Explore The House of Rimmon a drama in four acts by Henry Van Dyke

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< < < The House of Rimmon Act 1 – Act 2 – Act 3 – Act 4
The House of Rimmon Act 1 – Act 2 – Act 3 – Act 4 > > >

ACT II

Time: A
week later

The
fore-court of the House of Rimmon. At the back the broad steps and
double doors of the shrine; above them the tower of the god, its summit
invisible. Enter various groups of citizens, talking, laughing,
shouting: Rakhaz, Hazael, Shumakim and
others.

First Citizen:Great
news, glorious news, the Assyrians are beaten!

Second Citizen:Naaman
is returning, crowned with victory. Glory to our noble captain!

Third Citizen:No,
he is killed. I had it from one of the camp-followers who saw him fall
at the head of the battle. They are bringing his body to bury it with
honour. O sorrowful victory!

Rakhaz:Peace,
my good fellows, you are ignorant, you have not been rightly informed,
I will misinform you. The accounts of Naaman’s death are overdrawn. He
was killed, but his life has been preserved. One of his wounds was
mortal, but the other three were curable, and by these the physicians
have saved him.

Shumakim: [Balancing
himself before Rakhaz in
pretended admiration.]O
wonderful! Most admirable logic! One mortal, and three curable,
therefore he must recover as it were, by three to one. Rakhaz, do you
know that you are a marvelous man?

Rakhaz:Yes,
I know it, but I make no boast of my knowledge.

Shumakim:Too
modest, for in knowing this you know more than any other in Damascus!

[Enter, from
the right, Saballidin in
armour: from the left, Tsarpi with
her attendants, among whom is Ruahmah.]

Hazael:Here
is Saballidin, we’ll question him;He
was enflamed by Naaman’s wild words,And
rode with him to battle. Give us news,Of
your great captain! Is he safe and well?When
will he come? Or will he come at all?

[All gather
around him listening eagerly.]

Saballidin:He
comes but now, returning from the fieldWhere
he hath gained a crown of deathless fame!Three
times he led the charge; three times he fellWounded,
and the Assyrians beat us back.Yet
every wound was but a spur to urgeHis
valour onward. In the last attackHe
rode before us as the crested waveThat
leads the flood; and lo, our enemiesWere
broken like a dam of river-reeds.The
flying King encircled by his guardWas
lodged like driftwood on a little hill.Then
Naaman, who led our foremost bandOf
whirlwind riders, hammered through the hedgeOf
spearmen, brandishing the golden yoke.“Take
back this gift,” he cried; and shattered itOn
Shalmaneser’s helmet. So the fightDissolved
in universal rout; the King,His
chariots and his horsemen fled away;Our
captain stood the master of the field,And
saviour of Damascus! Now he brings,First
to the King, report of this great triumph.

[Shouts of
joy and applause.]

Ruahmah: [Coming
close to Saballidin.]But
what of him who won it? Fares he well?My
mistress would receive some word of him.

Saballidin:Hath
she not heard?

Ruahmah: But
one brief message came:A
letter saying, “We have fought and conquered,”No
word of his own person. Fares he well?

Saballidin:Alas,
most ill! For he is like a manConsumed
by some strange sickness: wasted, wan,—His
eyes are dimmed so that he scarce can see;His
ears are dulled; his fearless face is paleAs
one who walks to meet a certain doomYet
will not flinch. It is most pitiful,—But
you shall see.

Ruahmah: Yea,
we shall see a manWho
dared to face the wrath of evil powersUnknown,
and hazard all to save his country.

[Enter Benhadad with
courtiers.]

Benhadad:Where
is my faithful servant Naaman,The
captain of my host?

Saballidin: My
lord, he comes.

[Trumpet
sounds. Enter company of soldiers in armour. Then four soldiers bearing
captured standards of Asshur. Naaman follows,
very pale, armour dinted and stained; he is blind, and guides himself
by cords from the standards on each side, but walks firmly. The doors
of the temple open slightly, and Rezon appears
at the top of the steps. Naaman lets
the cords fall, and gropes his way for a few paces.]

Naaman: [Kneeling.] Where
is my King?Master,
the bearer of thy sword returns.The
golden yoke thou gavest me I brokeOn
him who sent it. Asshur’s Bull hath fledDehorned.
The standards of his host are thine!Damascus
is all thine, at peace, and free!

Benhadad: [Holding out
his arms.]Thou
art a mighty man of valour! Come,And
let me fold thy courage to my heart.

Rezon: [Lifting his
rod.]Forbear,
O King! Stand back from him, all men!By
the great name of Rimmon I proclaimThis
man a leper! See, upon his brow,This
little mark, the death-white seal of doom!That
tiny spot will spread, eating his flesh,Gnawing
his fingers bone from bone, untilThe
impious heart that dared defy the godsDissolves
in the slow death which now begins.Unclean!
unclean! Henceforward he is dead:No
human hand shall touch him, and no homeOf
men shall give him shelter. He shall walkOnly
with corpses of the selfsame deathDown
the long path to a forgotten tomb.Avoid,
depart, I do adjure you all,Leave
him to god,—the leper Naaman!

[All shrink
back horrified. Rezon retires
into the temple; the crowd melts away, wailing; Tsarpi is
among the first to go, followed by her attendants, except Ruahmah,
who crouches, with her face covered, not far from Naaman.]

Benhadad: [Lingering
and turning back.]Alas,
my son! O Naaman, my son!Why
did I let thee go? I must obey.Who
can resist the gods? Yet none shall takeThy
glorious title, captain of my host!I
will provide for thee, and thou shalt dwellWith
guards of honour in a house of mineAlways.
Damascus never shall forgetWhat
thou hast done! O miserable wordsOf
crowned impotence! O mockery of powerGiven
to kings who cannot even defendTheir
dearest from the secret wrath of heaven!O
Naaman, my son, my son! [Exit.]

Naaman: [Slowly
passing his hand over his eyes, and looking up.] Am
I aloneWith
thee, inexorable one, whose prideOffended
takes this horrible revenge?I
must submit my mortal flesh to thee,Almighty,
but I will not call thee god!Yet
thou hast found the way to wound my soulMost
deeply through the flesh; and I must findThe
way to let my wounded soul escape! [Drawing his
sword.]Come,
my last friend, thou art more mercifulThan
Rimmon. Why should I endure the doomHe
sends me? Irretrievably cut offFrom
all dear intercourse of human love,From
all the tender touch of human hands,From
all brave comradeship with brother-men,With
eyes that see no faces through this dark,With
ears that hear all voices far away,Why
should I cling to misery, and gropeMy
long, long way from pain to pain, alone?

Ruahmah: [At his feet.]Nay,
not alone, dear lord, for I am here;And
I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee!

Naaman:What
voice is that? The silence of my tombIs
broken by a ray of music,—whose?

Ruahmah: [Rising.]The
one who loves thee best in all the world.

Naaman:Why
that should be,—O dare I dream it true?Tsarpi,
my wife? Have I misjudged thy heartAs
cold and proud? How nobly thou forgivest!Thou
com’st to hold me from the last disgrace,—The
coward’s flight into the dark. Go backUnstained,
my sword! Life is endurableWhile
there is one alive on earth who loves us.

Ruahmah:My
lord,—my lord,—O listen! You have erred,—You
do mistake me now,—this dream—

Naaman:Ah,
wake me not! For I can conquer deathDreaming
this dream. Let me at last believe,Though
gods are cruel, a woman can be kind.Grant
me but this! For see,—I ask so little,—Only
to know that thou art faithful,That
thou art near me, though I touch thee not,—O
this will hold me up, though it be givenFrom
pity more than love.

Ruahmah: [Trembling,
and speaking slowly.] Not
so, my lord!My
pity is a stream; my pride of theeIs
like the sea that doth engulf the stream;My
love for thee is like the sovereign moonThat
rules the sea. The tides that fill my soulFlow
unto thee and follow after thee;And
where thou goest I will go; and whereThou
diest I will die,—in the same hour.

[She lays
her hand on his arm. He draws back.]

Naaman:O
touch me not! Thou shalt not share my doom.

Ruahmah:Entreat
me not to go. I will obeyIn
all but this; but rob me not of this,—The
only boon that makes life worth the living,—To
walk beside thee day by day, and keepThy
foot from stumbling; to prepare thy foodWhen
thou art hungry, music for thy rest,And
cheerful words to comfort thy black hour;And
so to lead thee ever on, and on,Through
darkness, till we find the door of hope.

Naaman:What
word is that? The leper has no hope.

Ruahmah:Dear
lord, the mark upon thy brow is yetNo
broader than my little finger-nail.Thy
force is not abated, and thy stepIs
firm. Wilt thou surrender to the enemyBefore
thy strength is touched? Why, let me putA
drop of courage from my breast in thine!There
is a hope for thee. The captive maidOf
Israel who dwelt within thy houseKnew
of a god very compassionate,Long-suffering,
slow to anger, one who healsThe
sick, hath pity on the fatherless,And
saves the poor and him who has no helper.His
prophet dwells nigh to Samaria;And
I have heard that he hath brought the deadTo
life again. We’ll go to him. The King,If
I beseech him, will appoint a guardOf
thine own soldiers and Saballidin,Thy
friend, to convoy us upon our journey.He’ll
give us royal letters to the KingOf
Israel to make our welcome sure;And
we will take the open road, beneathThe
open sky, to-morrow, and go onTogether
till we find the door of hope.Come,
come with me!

[She grasps
his hand.]

Naaman: [Drawing
back.]Thou
must not touch me!

Ruahmah: [Unclasping
her girdle and putting the end in his hand.] Take
my girdle, then!

Naaman: [Kissing the
clasp of the girdle.]I
do begin to think there is a God,Since
love on earth can work such miracles!

CURTAIN.

< < < The House of Rimmon Act 1 – Act 2 – Act 3 – Act 4
The House of Rimmon Act 1 – Act 2 – Act 3 – Act 4 > > >

American Literature – Children Books – American Poetry – Henry Van Dyke – Poems by Henry Van Dyke

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Drama in 4 acts: “The House of Rimmon” by Henry Van Dyke

ACT II

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