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No, I've heard say It is at times a risky game to play.
STIVER.
The very devil!
FALK.
Only for the great.
STIVER [zealously].
No, no, for all us servants of the state.
Only imagine how my future chances Would dwindle, if the governor once knew I keep Pegasus that neighs and prances In office hours--and such an office, too!
From first to last, you know, in our profession, The winged horse is viewed with reprobation: But worst of all would be, if it got wind That I against our primal law had sinn'd By bringing secret matters to the light--
FALK.
That's penal, is it--such an oversight?
STIVER [mysteriously].
It can a servant of the state compel To beg for his dismissal out of hand.
On us officials lies a strict command, Even by the hearth to be inscrutable.
FALK.
O those despotical authorities, Muzzling the--clerk that treadeth out the grain!
STIVER [shrugging his shoulders].
It is the law; to murmur is in vain.
Moreover, at a moment such as this, When salary revision is in train, It is not well to advertise one's views Of office time's true function and right use.
That's why I beg you to be silent; look, A word may forfeit my--
FALK.
Portfolio?
STIVER.
Officially it's called a transcript book; A protocol's the clasp upon the veil of snow That shrouds the modest breast of the Bureau.
What lies beneath you must not seek to know.
FALK.
And yet I only spoke at your desire; You hinted at your literary crop.
STIVER.
How should I guess he'd grovel in the mire So deep, this parson perch'd on fortune's top, A man with snug appointments, children, wife, And money to defy the ills of life?
If such a man prove such a Philistine, What shall of us poor copyists be said?
Of me, who drive the quill and rule the line, A man engaged and shortly to be wed, With family in prospect--and so forth?
[More vehemently.
O, if I only had a well-lined berth, I'd bind the armour'd helmet on my head, And cry defiance to united earth!
And were I only unengaged like you, Trust me, I'd break a road athwart the snow Of prose, and carry the Ideal through!
FALK.
To work then, man!
STIVER.
How?
FALK.
You may still do so!
Let the world's prudish owl unheeded flutter by; Freedom converts the grub into a b.u.t.terfly!
STIVER.
You mean, to break the engagement--?
FALK.
That's my mind;-- The fruit is gone, why keep the empty rind?
STIVER.
Such a proposal's for a green young shoot, Not for a man of judgment and repute.
I heed not what King Christian in his time (The Fifth) laid down about engagements broken-off; For that relations.h.i.+p is nowhere spoken of In any rubric of the code of crime.
The act would not be criminal in name, It would in no way violate the laws--
FALK.
Why there, you see then!
STIVER [firmly].
Yes, but all the same,-- I must reject all pleas in such a cause.
Staunch comrades we have been in times of dearth; Of life's disport she asks but little share, And I'm a homely fellow, long aware G.o.d made me for the ledger and the hearth.
Let others emulate the eagle's flight, Life in the lowly plains may be as bright.
What does his Excellency Goethe say About the white and s.h.i.+ning milky way?
Man may not there the milk of fortune skim, Nor is the b.u.t.ter of it meant for him.
FALK.
Why, even were fortune-churning our life's goal, The labour must be guided by the soul;-- Be citizens of the time that is--but then Make the time worthy of the citizen.
In homely things lurks beauty, without doubt, But watchful eye and brain must draw it out.
Not every man who loves the soil he turns May therefore claim to be another Burns.(5)
STIVER.
Then let us each our proper path pursue, And part in peace; we shall not hamper you; We keep the road, you hover in the sky, There where we too once floated, she and I.
But work, not song, provides our daily bread, And when a man's alive, his music's dead.
A young man's life's a lawsuit, and the most Superfluous litigation in existence: Plead where and how you will, your suit is lost.
FALK [bold and confident, with a glance at the summer-house].
Nay, tho' I took it to the highest place,-- Judgment, I know, would be reversed by grace!
I know two hearts can live a life complete, With hope still ardent, and with faith still sweet; You preach the wretched gospel of the hour, That the Ideal is secondary!
STIVER.
No!
It's primary: appointed, like the flower, To generate the fruit, and then to go.
[Indoors, MISS JAY plays and sings: "In the Gloaming."
STIVER stands listening in silent emotion.
With the same melody she calls me yet Which thrilled me to the heart when first we met.
[Lays his hand on FALK's arm and gazes intently at him.
