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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Flutter of the Goldleaf; and Other Plays, by
Olive Tilford Dargan and Frederick Peterson

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Title: The Flutter of the Goldleaf; and Other Plays

Author: Olive Tilford Dargan and Frederick Peterson

Release Date: December 23, 2006 [EBook #20172]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

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                    THE FLUTTER OF THE GOLDLEAF

                          AND OTHER PLAYS


                                 BY
                        OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN

                                AND
                         FREDERICK PETERSON


                              NEW YORK
                      CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
                                1922






                        COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY
                      CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

                             PRINTED AT
                         THE SCRIBNER PRESS
                         NEW YORK, U. S. A.






CONTENTS



                                                      PAGE

  THE FLUTTER OF THE GOLDLEAF                            1

      BY OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN AND FREDERICK PETERSON


  THE JOURNEY                                           49

      BY OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN


  EVERYCHILD                                            75

      BY FREDERICK PETERSON AND OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN


  TWO DOCTORS AT AKRAGAS                               103

      BY FREDERICK PETERSON






THE FLUTTER OF THE GOLDLEAF

A PLAY IN ONE ACT

BY

Olive Tilford Dargan

AND

Frederick Peterson






CHARACTERS


  PHILO WARNER, _a student_
  HIRAM WARNER, _his father, the village grocer_
  MARY ANN WARNER, _his mother_
  DR. BELLOWS, _the village physician_
  DR. SEYMOUR, _a city specialist_
  REBA SLOAN, _a neighbor's daughter_




THE FLUTTER OF THE GOLDLEAF


SCENE: _Laboratory in the attic of the Warner cottage. At right, toward
    rear, entrance from down-stairs. A rude partition, left, with door
    in centre. Window centre rear. Large kitchen table loaded with
    apparatus. Shelves, similarly loaded, against wall near table, right.
    Wires strung about. A rude couch, bench, and several wooden chairs._

    _Time, about 8 p.m. Lamp burns on table._ MRS. WARNER _comes
    up-stairs, puts her head inside the room nervously, then enters and
    looks about._


_Mrs. W._

Such a mess! And the doctors will be here in half an hour! (_Tries to
get busy but seems bothered. Crosses to table and looks at a little
machine that stands upon it._) _That's_ what's driving my boy crazy! If
I only dared to smash it! The right sort of a mother would do just that!
(_Looks at machine with dire meditation._)

_Warner_ (_without, roaring up the stairs_)

Mary Ann!

_Mrs. W._ (_jumps_)

Yes, Hiram!

_Warner_ (_entering_)

Where's Philo?

_Mrs. W._

In the orchard. I watched my chance, and thought I'd redd up a little.
He won't let me touch anything when he's here.

_Warner_

Just about lives up here, don't he?

_Mrs. W._

Day and night now, since he's been too sick to go to the store. And
I can't have Dr. Bellows bring in that specialist from New York with
things lookin' as if a woman had never come up the stairs. (_Dusting
and rattling._)

_Warner_

Philo's not onto what the doctors are after, is he?

_Mrs. W._

He thinks they're coming to look at his machine mostly--and see what's
keepin' him awake nights. But maybe he knows. He's awful sharp.

_Warner_

Sharp? Wish he knew enough to sell eggs and bacon. He's ruinin' my
business. Weighs a pound of coffee as if he was asleep. I can see
customers watchin' him out o' the tail o' their eye. They're gettin'
_afraid_ of him! Mary Ann, the boy's going to be a shame to us. He's
crazy!

_Mrs. W._

Don't you call _my_ boy crazy. I won't hear it, Hiram.

_Warner_

No, you'll wait till the whole village tells you! They're all talkin'
now!

_Mrs. W._

It's none o' their business!

_Warner_

It'll be their business if he flies up and hurts somebody.

_Mrs. W._

Philo wouldn't hurt anything alive. He got mad at me once for killin'
a spider.

_Warner_ (_scornfully_)

Showed his sense there, didn't he?

_Mrs. W._

If Philo's queer it's not from my side of the house. You know what your
mother was like--wanderin' round nights starin' at the stars with that
old spy-glass Captain Barker gave her.

_Warner_

She was a good mother, all the same.

_Mrs. W._

Couldn't cook at all. Your father only kept alive by eating at the
neighbors occasionally--and as for sewing and mending, you children went
in rags till your Aunt Sary came to live with you.

_Warner_

Mother thought a heap of us, though. I remember how she cried because I
wouldn't go to school and went into the grocery business. And she cried
a lot more when I married you. I couldn't understand her--_then_....

_Mrs. W._

Humph! She'd been shut up fast enough if your father hadn't been the
softest-hearted man alive.

_Warner_

Maybe the boy does take after her, but he's worse'n she ever was.

_Mrs. W._

She didn't have any books--or college education--to turn her head.

_Warner_

Nothing to read but the _Weekly Mirror_. It was a good paper, though,
all about crops and stock, and what the country people were doing, and
a love story on the inside page. Father subscribed on her account. She
told him her mind had to have _something_ to work on. But she didn't
take to the paper, and he had to read it himself to get his money's
worth.

_Mrs. W._

A good thing she didn't have a library to get at like Philo. All those
books he brought home didn't do him any good. He began to get queer
about the time he was reading that set of Sir Humphry Davy's Complete
Works, with so much about electrics and the stars, and that sort of
stuff. If we could only get him to quit this studyin' and stay
out-o'-doors....

_Warner_

S'pose we clear out this hole--burn the books, and get rid of all these
confounded wires and jars and fixings. I don't believe he saves a penny
of the wages I give him for helpin' to ruin me. All he makes goes for
this truck. We'll clear it out.

_Mrs. W._

I've thought of that, but we oughtn't to go too far. They're his anyhow,
and I'm afraid----

_Warner_

Well, I'm not afraid! And I'll begin with this devil! (_Pauses over
machine. Starts suddenly._) What's that? He's coming!

_Mrs. W._ (_listening_)

It's only Alice going to her room.

_Warner_

Perhaps we'd better see what the specialist says first.

_Mrs. W._

I know Dr. Bellows wants us to send Philo away. But I'm against that,
first and last.

_Warner_

You wouldn't be if you'd listen to Bellows awhile. You know what he told
me when I met him this morning? "Why, Warner," he says, "I never go to
see the boy without taking a pair of handcuffs in my pocket. It's the
quiet ones that go the wildest when they do break out."

_Mrs. W._

Oh, Hiram, it's not going to be so bad as that. Don't let him set you
against your own flesh and blood. Just let me manage awhile. He needs to
get stirred up about something--get his mind off this. I wish I hadn't
stopped those letters he was getting from Reba Sloan when she went off
to school two years ago.

_Warner_

But you said you'd rather see him dead than married to Sloan's girl.

_Mrs. W._

I meant it, too! But seeing your child dead is not so bad as seeing him
crazy--and if Reba can save him----

_Warner_

How in thunder----

_Mrs. W._

She's a taking girl, Hiram--since she got back. If Philo gets his mind
fixed on _her_, she'll soon have him forgettin' this. Why,--you remember
for three months before we were married you couldn't think o' nothing
but me.

_Warner_

Good Lord! Is that so, Mary Ann?

_Mrs. W._

I had to hurry up the weddin' to save your business. You were letting
Jabe McKenny take all your trade right under your nose.

_Warner_

Sakes 'a' mighty! If I could come out of a spell like that, there's some
hope for our poor chap.

_Mrs. W._

That's what I'm telling you!

_Warner_

But Reba's father--you going to have old fiddler Sloan in the family?

_Mrs. W._

He's come into some money now, and any gentleman can take an interest
in music.

_Warner_

And the mother was that foreign woman.

_Mrs. W._

But she's dead. It's just as well Philo won't have a mother-in-law.

_Warner_

Reba'll have one, all right. If Philo stays queer it'll be hard on the
girl, won't it?

_Mrs. W._

He'll not stay queer. If he gets that girl in his head there won't be
room for anything else--for a while anyway. He'll be worse'n you ever
was. You let me manage it, Hiram.


(PHILO _is heard coming up the stairs. They listen in silence until
    he enters. He is talking, not quite audibly, to himself, and
    doesn't see them. Goes to table and stands by machine._)

_Philo_

Here--at last--I have caught the word ... the word of the stars.

_Mrs. W._

Philo!

_Philo_ (_looking up_)

Mother!... Father!... (_In alarm._) You haven't touched anything here?

_Mrs. W._

No, my son. I've just put the place to rights a bit. Dr. Seymour is
coming, you know.

_Philo_

Yes. (_Walks the floor, meditating._)

_Warner_

You must come out of this dream, Philo.

_Philo_

It is not a dream! I am the only being in the world who is awake!

_Mrs. W._

My son!

_Philo_

Man sleeps--like the rocks, trees, hills--while all around him, out of
the unseen, beating on blind eyes, deaf ears, numbed brain, sweep the
winds of eternity, the ether waves, the signals from the deeps of space!

_Warner_

Hey, diddle, diddle!

_Philo_

Sleep-walkers all--the people in the streets, the shops--the mad people
with their heaps of gold!

_Mrs. W._

Now don't work yourself up, Philo, with the doctor coming. You want to
tell him about your machine.

_Philo_

Yes. He is a great man. He has studied these things. I will talk to him.
He will not laugh.

_Warner_

Mary Ann, don't you think we'd better bring up some cider? It'll look
more hospitable like.

_Mrs. W._

That city doctor won't care anything about cider.

_Warner_

My cider's good enough for anybody! And Dr. Bellows'll be sure to ask
for it.

_Mrs. W._

Well, wait till he does. (_Looks uneasily about room._) Don't you think,
son, that if you're going to take to having visitors here I'd better
move some furniture up? You could have the haircloth sofa--the springs
are broke anyway--and Alice says she don't want the wax flowers in the
parlor any more. They're turnin' yellow, but you wouldn't notice it up
here.

_Philo_ (_clinching his hands_)

Do what you like, mother, only don't take anything _out_. If anything
happened to my work I believe I'd go crazy!

(_The parents look at each other._)

_Warner_

Thought your work was tendin' the store.

_Philo_

Brother Will is more help there than I am, father.

_Warner_

You're right about that. Will's got a head on.

_Mrs. W._

You'd better go down, Hiram, and meet the doctors.

_Warner_

Alice'll show them up.

_Mrs. W._

Where's that strange smell comin' from? Do you work in the other room,
too, Philo? (_Goes in, left._)

_Philo_

Father ... I'm sorry about the store ... I wish I could tell you ... but
what's the use? You won't believe!

(_Re-enter_ MRS. W.)

_Mrs. W._

Gracious! I couldn't breathe in there! Got to clear _something_ out
before Reba comes up here. She'd have no respect for my housekeeping.

_Philo_

Reba?

_Mrs. W._

Reba Sloan. She's been asking if she couldn't come. She's just wild to
see your machine.

_Philo_

Don't you ever let her up here, mother!

_Mrs. W._

But she asked me, Philo--and a neighbor's daughter, you know----

_Philo_

I thought she was away from home.

_Mrs. W._

Been back a month--walks all about right under your eyes. You ought to
be _civil_, Philo.

_Philo_

I want to see Dr. Seymour. I should like to have him know what I'm
doing. But if you're going to turn the whole village in here, I'll bar
the door, that's all.

_Mrs. W._

My son, if you'd only interest yourself a little----

_Philo_

I'm not interested in anything nearer than thirty-five million miles!

_Warner_

What did I tell you, Mary Ann?

_Mrs. W._

I hear the doctors! Now, Philo, if you can't talk sense, don't say
_anything_.

    (_Enter_ SEYMOUR _and_ BELLOWS.)

_Bellows_

Good evening, Warner. How d' do, Mrs. Warner! My friend, Dr. Seymour.

_Warner and Mrs. W._

How do you do, sir!

_Bellows_

Philo, I've brought Dr. Seymour around to have a talk with you. He's
down from New York for a day or two. Been sleeping any better?

_Philo_

Too much. I need all my time. I'm very glad to see you, Dr. Seymour.

    (_All take seats._)

_Mrs. W._

I hope you'll excuse the looks of the room, doctor.

_Seymour_

It looks very interesting indeed to me, Mrs. Warner. The workshop of a
student, and a busy one. (_To_ PHILO.) You've been working too hard, I
see.

_Philo_

I'm tired, perhaps, but I am well. When a man makes a momentous
discovery he is apt to be overwrought. He may not eat or sleep well for
a time. He may even appear to be strange or mad.

    (MRS. W. _coughs suddenly._)

_Mrs. W._

I'm afraid that's not a comfortable chair, Dr. Seymour.

_Seymour_

Quite comfortable, Mrs. Warner.

_Mrs. W._ (_rapidly_)

Philo is my oldest boy, and I never could keep him away from books.
Will, my second son, is as steady in the store as his father himself,
and Johnny is just fine on the wagon. As for Alice, there's not a neater
all-round girl to be found anywhere. They're healthy, sensible children,
every one of 'em, and don't care what's inside any book in the
world--but Philo was just bent on going to college----

_Seymour_

A very natural bent for an ambitious boy.

_Bellows_

Tell us about the discovery, Philo, my lad.

_Philo_ (_rising and walking slowly up and down the room_)

I think I will. It will be another experiment. I know what the effect
will be on Dr. Bellows. He is an old friend of mine--but you, sir, are a
stranger. I should like to try your mind and see if you are awake or
asleep.

    (BELLOWS _winks toward_ SEYMOUR, _who takes no notice, but gives_
    PHILO _careful attention._)

_Seymour_

I hope I shall not disappoint you.

_Philo_

I believe we have some points of view in common, for your profession
needs to take note of many problems connected with both evolution and
electricity. I have been a reader of general science for many years.
The fact that on the earth we have had a slow evolution from a monad
to a man contains a promise of further development of man into--let us
say an angel.

_Bellows_

Not very soon, I guess.

_Philo_ (_sharply_)

Hardly in your day, doctor. You needn't worry about the fashion in
wing-feathers.

_Seymour_

Go on, Mr. Warner.

_Philo_

In others of the many millions of globes about us in space, a similar
evolution is going on, and in some the evolution is less advanced than
in ours, in others incomparably more advanced.

_Seymour_

We may admit that.

    (BELLOWS _looks to_ WARNER _for sympathy, and shakes his head._)

_Philo_

We have reached a stage when we have begun to peer out into the stellar
depths and question them. We are beginning to master the light and the
lightning, to measure the vastness of space, to weigh the suns, to
determine the elements that comprise them, to talk and send messages
thousands of miles without wires. Each year uncovers new wonders,
infinitely minute, infinitely great.

_Seymour_

True,--all true.

_Philo_ (_becoming more repressed and tensely excited as he goes on_)

The dreams of the alchemists are being realized. That machine yonder
detects the waves from a millionth of a millionth of a milligramme of
radium.

_Seymour_

What!

_Philo_

I have invented a tuned electroscope that would be destroyed by such
waves, so sensitive as to react only to waves from an inconceivable
distance, beyond thirty-five million miles.

_Seymour_ (_trying to take it in_)

Thirty-five million miles!

_Philo_ (_with great tension_)

Three weeks ago I made this instrument, and ever since then, at regular
intervals, there have been rhythmic flutterings of the goldleaf, regular
repetitions, as if it were knocking at the door of earth from the
eternal silences. I have watched it--the same measured fluttering--two
beats--then three--then two--then four and a pause! It is a studied
measure! It has meaning! When I first noticed it--the faint flutter of
the goldleaf--and knew that any waves from a nearer point than
thirty-five million miles would utterly destroy so delicate an
instrument--my hair stood on end. I have watched it three
weeks--alone--and you ask me why I do not sleep!... Look!

    (_The doctors spring up electrified, and stare at the instrument._)

_Philo_

There it is again! Two beats--then three--then two--then four--now it
is over!

    (SEYMOUR _continues to stare at the instrument._ BELLOWS _subsides
    into a chair, looking foolish._)

_Seymour_ (_to himself_)

Impossible!... (_To_ PHILO.) What was it you were saying? What
did you see?

_Philo_

I saw what you saw--signals from a distance farther than the distance
of the nearest planet to our earth.

_Seymour_ (_shaken_)

But I saw nothing. At least a slight movement in anything so sensitive
might be due to many causes....

_Philo_

Yes! It is always the old story. Truths must be hammered into humanity!
Branded in with flame, or driven in with sword and bullet!

_Bellows_ (_starting up alarmed_)

Hadn't we better be going, doctor?

_Philo_

Oh, no! Wait till you've talked me over. Decide whether I'm mad or not!
If I'm a menace to the community! If I must be locked up! My father and
mother are waiting to know. Don't go! Finish your work! (_Rushes into
room, left._)

_Bellows_ (_triumphantly to_ SEYMOUR)

Well?

    (SEYMOUR _hesitates, looks at the father and mother, then at_
    BELLOWS, _and takes out his match-case._)

_Bellows_ (_making a conquest of the obvious_)

Warner, a little of that fine cider of yours would just finish off our
chat.

_Warner_

Nothing better! (_Starting out, whispers to_ MRS. W.) Where's grandma's
silver pitcher?

_Mrs. W._

I'll get _that_.

    (_They go down-stairs._)

_Bellows_ (_laughing_)

She never lets him go to the cellar by himself.

_Seymour_

Not a drinker, is he?

_Bellows_

Oh, no! The pattern of a deacon. But she keeps her hand on.

    (SEYMOUR _lights a cigar thinkingly._)

_Bellows_

No use to go over this case. It's clear enough. We'll have our
cider--it's worth waiting for--then go to my office and fix up the
commitment papers.

_Seymour_ (_rubbing his hand slowly over his forehead_)

To talk with such a patient sometimes bewilders the brain. He seemed so
clear in his utterance--so rational----

_Bellows_

Funny, wasn't he? I almost believed it myself for a minute.

_Seymour_

It might be true.

_Bellows_

Hey?

_Seymour_

Perhaps we are all somnambulists moving about in this dream-world we
call practical life. Behind this tough matter that takes so many shapes
and colors, what strange secrets are hidden, just beginning to reach our
dull senses--X-rays, radium emanations, wireless waves.

_Bellows_

Oh, they're natural enough now. Common sense has adopted them.

_Seymour_

Yes, we are easily satisfied. Give a mystery a name and that's enough
for the most of us. But here and there are minds that must explore
further; and if they discover something beyond the comprehension of us
who stay behind, we call them mad.

_Bellows_

Well, none of your mind-puzzles for me. Give me something clear cut,
like typhoid, or measles, an amputation, or new babies, something I can
fix my eyes on. You can take care of the madmen--except when they're
in my own village. I'm not going to have a boy like Philo gibbering
around ready to break out wild any time.

_Seymour_

It's true he may be led into frenzy, or even self-destruction, but it
will be from overwork and loneliness. I must have a talk with the
parents----

_Bellows_

What do you expect _them_ to do? They're asking us for help. And _I'm_
willing to give it to them.

    (_Re-enter_ WARNER _and_ MRS. W. _He carries pitcher, she carries
    tray with glasses._)

_Seymour_ (_to_ BELLOWS)

We'll see. As I say, the boy has been losing sleep, and giving his mind
no rest.

_Mrs. W._ (_holding tray while_ WARNER _pours cider_)

Just what I say, doctor. He's studied himself sick.

_Seymour_

You must get him out of here, Mrs. Warner. (_Sipping cider._) Excellent,
indeed!

_Mrs. W._

I'm doing my best.

_Warner_ (_to_ BELLOWS, _who has drained his glass_)

You're at home, doctor. Just help yourself.

    (_He does._)

_Seymour_

What is his age?

_Mrs. W._

Twenty. He went early to college.

_Seymour_ (_musingly_)

The usual age. Twenty. (_Sighs._) The age of visions and enchantments.
"The thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

_Bellows_

What are you saying, doctor?

_Seymour_

Just thinking. It's a healthy family, isn't it?

_Mrs. W._

I should say! Why, Will and Johnny and Alice----

_Bellows_

Best sort. The thoroughbreds of the town. Temperate, thriving, regular
at church. Warner here was once county supervisor. (_Clapping him on
shoulder._) Never had a better one.

_Seymour_ (_to_ WARNER)

And your parents?

_Warner_

Father was a sound, practical man. Stood flat-footed, I may say.

_Seymour_

And your mother?

_Mrs. W._

Law me, Hiram Warner thinks there was never anybody in the world like
his mother. And there never _was_!

_Seymour_

That's good to build on. It is clear that your boy is ill, and the
burden of his knowledge, whether truth or delusion, is far too great for
him to bear. If you could interest him for even a brief time in ordinary
life--(_smiling_) miracles that are too common to be disturbing--throw
him with young people----

_Bellows_

You don't mean you won't sign the commitment papers!

_Seymour_

Just that. I shall not sign them.

_Mrs. W._ (_gratefully_)

Oh, doctor!

_Bellows_

After what you saw here with your own eyes? He's completely gone off!

_Seymour_

The boy may be right. Under this tiny consciousness of ours lie vast
fields of subconscious intelligence as yet unexplored. Beyond our earth
are still greater mysteries, unimaginable, unthinkable.

_Bellows_ (_in disgust_)

And I counted on your common sense!

_Seymour_

Common sense is itself too frail and uncertain a thing to be a criterion
of sanity. The common sense of yesterday is to-day's folly, and our
present common sense will be the madness of to-morrow.

_Bellows_

Well, I'll be--I'll wait for you down-stairs, doctor. (_Exit._)

_Seymour_

The lad ought not to be in there alone. (_Goes to door._) Philo, my boy!

    (PHILO _comes out. He is extremely pale, his black hair pushed
    from his forehead, and his eyes burning, but his manner is calm._)

_Philo_

Well, am I a free man?

_Seymour_

You are free, Philo.

_Philo_ (_perfunctorily_)

Thank you, doctor.

_Seymour_

But you must have rest from this work. These subjects are too
overwhelming for a sane brain to carry without harm. This attic is
gloomy and the atmosphere unhealthy. You must have a complete change.

_Philo_

I see. That is your answer to my discovery. (_Turns suddenly to_
WARNER.) And what do you think of it, father?

_Warner_

I don't seem to get hold of it, somehow, Philo. (_Crosses to machine and
stares at it._) What's the good, anyhow? They're too far away.
'Twouldn't help business.

    (PHILO _gives a queer laugh._ WARNER _opens door._)

_Warner_

I'll see you down-stairs, doctor. (_Exit._)

_Philo_ (_turning to_ MRS. W.)

And you, mother?

_Mrs. W._ (_bustling up and gathering tray and glasses_)

I've got to set my bread. (_Crosses to machine and stares at it, holding
tray._) What'll we come to if folks in the stars begin pesterin'? We've
got enough to 'tend to right here. (_Goes out muttering._) Got to set my
bread.

    (SEYMOUR _and_ PHILO _look at each other and smile._)

_Seymour_

Won't you come down, Philo?

_Philo_

No. It's livelier for me up here. More to think about. But don't worry
about me, doctor. I know this is the end. If I can't convince you, then
all the world must think it hallucination.

_Seymour_

I'm not unconvinced. I simply don't know. And I'm deeply interested. But
you can't stand it, Philo. Get out of this. Be young. This is for older
heads. You'll have plenty of time. Get out--do anything. Fall in
love--fall in love--that will give you mysteries enough for a while.
Yes, I mean it--and don't forget, my dear boy, that you've interested
me.

    (_Shakes hands with_ PHILO _and goes down._ PHILO _listens until
    he has reached the foot of the stairs._)

_Philo_

The heavens open--the suns speak--and he is--interested! (_Closes
door._) Alone!... Fall in love! Light the candle and put out the
stars!... (_Returns to his instrument._) ... It is still.

    (_Steps are heard on the stairs, then a knock at the door.
    He crosses softly to door and shoots the bolt._)

_Voice_ (_without_)

It's Reba, Philo! Won't you let me in?

    (_He is silent, and steps retreat._)

_Philo_ (_crossing to centre_)

Reba! That folly's done with, thank God!... (_Begins walking._)
Seymour.... I didn't know how much I was hoping from him.... It is hard,
hard to go on alone. But I _must_! I can't turn back from that call.
When a child cries we turn, and listen, and help. And this--_this_ is
the voice of a world!

    (_A knock is heard at door._)

_Voice of_ WARNER

Philo!

_Philo_

Buzz, buzz, old bee!

_Voice_

Come down, son!

_Philo_

Please leave me alone, father. I can't bear anything more to-night.

    (_A pause, and_ WARNER _goes down._)

_Philo_ (_coming to table_)

I will work--work--work! (_Busies his hands._) Not a voice to help
me--not a smile of hope--not a touch of sympathy. (_Sits still and
despairing._) ... Perhaps the time is not ripe for larger knowledge.
Nature and the Divinity that guides her must protect their new evolving
creatures. A too sudden revelation and they might perish from sheer
wonder.... Yes, truth must come softened, as a dream, to the man child's
brain. Its naked light would sere and blind him forever.... But to me it
has been given to see--to hear--and keep sane in the light. Oh, from
what planet is the call? From what one of the hundred million spheres?
How many centuries has it been sent outward to the deaf, the dumb, and
the blind? And what is the word? Is it Hail? Help? Hope?... Or is it an
answer? An answer to some signal of mine? How shall I know?... How shall
I know?

    (_There is a noise outside the window._ PHILO _does not look up._
    REBA _appears and leaps lightly through the windows. Advances centre.
    Her dress is of clinging black, relieved by a floating scarf of
    cloudy white. She has a mass of blonde hair, and all the charms
    properly belonging to her age, which is eighteen._)

_Reba_

Philo!

_Philo_ (_turning_)

Reba!

_Reba_

Don't be angry.

_Philo_

How did you get here?

_Reba_

The window. Don't you remember--you showed me how to climb up once--with
a ladder--the tree--and the shed roof? Oh, the things you've forgotten,
Philo!

    (_He goes to door and unbolts it._)

_Philo_

You must go down, Reba. (_She does not move._) What will mother say?

_Reba_ (_laughing_)

She held the ladder for me.

_Philo_

Mother?

_Reba_

You've frightened her so. You mustn't bolt the door again. She's afraid
you'll do something dreadful.

_Philo_

You were not afraid to come.

_Reba_

I like to take risks. Life's dull in this village.

_Philo_

How you've changed, Reba!

_Reba_

It's taken you long enough to find it out. I've been back a month.

_Philo_

You'd better go down. I'm very busy, and I've had a long interruption
this evening.

_Reba_

I'm going to interrupt some more. Dr. Seymour says it's good for you.

_Philo_ (_angrily_)

Dr. Seymour knows you've come?

_Reba_

Yes. He said you might like the surprise. Don't you like it, Philo?

    (_Comes near him._ PHILO _turns away and busies himself about
    the table and shelves as if he meant to ignore her utterly._
    REBA _watches him, then goes to window and takes a large apple
    from the ledge. Comes back._)

_Reba_

I brought you an apple--such a love of an apple. There's a whole summer
of sunsets in it. I climbed the tree myself.

_Philo_ (_not looking_)

Thank you; I don't eat.

_Reba_

Don't eat! Well, there it is! (_Throws it on the table. He jumps to
protect his instrument._) You can _lick_ it when you're hungry!

    (_He sits down and begins to work. She walks to other side of table
    and picks up a book._)

_Reba_

Oh! Our old "Swiss Family Robinson"! The very one we read together! With
our names in it! You've kept it all the time! (_Hugging it._) Dear old
book! (_Turns the leaves._) Why--the leaves are half gone!

_Philo_

They're handy for cleaning my wires.

    (_She throws the book down, and stands uncertain._)

_Philo_

Going, Reba? Good night!

_Reba_

No, I'm not going. This is my last chance. You'll bar the window
to-morrow.

_Philo_ (_determinedly_)

Yes, I will.

    (_He bends closely over his work. She lies across the table opposite,
    watching his movements intently. He fumbles for a tool._)

_Reba_

The little one? Here it is!

    (_Hands him a small wire tool. He stares at her face so near his
    own, then takes the instrument and works confusedly. Jumps up and
    tries to reach a jar on one of the shelves._ REBA _leaps onto a
    chair, takes the jar and hands it down. He stares, and takes jar._)

_Reba_ (_as he returns to table_)

Ugh! These jars are so dirty, Philo. May I wash them for you?

_Philo_

Heavens, no!

_Reba_

Oh, _that_ makes you sit up! (_Hums a little, leaps down and begins to
move the things on the table._) I'll make the table tidy for you, Philo.

_Philo_ (_grabbing her hands_)

Stop!

_Reba_ (_sings, swinging his hands across the table_)

"All around the mulberry bush----"

_Philo_

Let go!

_Reba_

Why, you're holding _me_!

    (_He drops her hands and goes to window, as if intending flight.
    She becomes subtle._)

_Reba_

Dr. Seymour says you've done something wonderful, Philo. Won't you show
me your machine?

_Philo_

No.

_Reba_

But I _care_! I care more than anybody! I _want_ you to be great. I
could sit by you all my life just watching you being great.
(PHILO _smiles. She twirls over to him._) And I don't _like_ to
be still, either.

_Philo_

But suppose people began to laugh at you as they do at me?

_Reba_

I wouldn't care. Show me the machine, Philo.

    (_Takes his arm and they move back to table._)

_Philo_

There it is.

_Reba_ (_hovering over it_)

This is it. (_Throwing her head back._) Tell me about it.

_Philo_

Reba--your throat is--so white.

_Reba_ (_bending suddenly over machine_)

There's something moving.

_Philo_

So white.

_Reba_

Two--one--two, three----

    (PHILO _goes to door and flings it open._)

_Philo_

Reba, go down!

    (_She crosses to door, shuts it, and stands with her back against it._)

_Reba_

Not till we've had a talk, Philo. I've a right to it after what you said
two years ago--when I went away to school. Have you forgotten it? Shall
I tell you what you said?

_Philo_

No!

_Reba_

You said you loved me, Philo. And I believed it for two years. When I
came back you were silent. I've tried to make you speak--I've got in
your way--I've done everything nice girls don't do--because--I love you
as much as you love _that_! (_Waves her hand toward the machine._)

_Philo_

Don't say it. It can't be true. No woman could love so much as that.
(_Goes back to table._)

_Reba_ (_following him_)

I don't ask you to love me. But let me come here and sit by you
sometimes. I could be happy then--though I don't _like_ to be still.
I was going to a dance to-night.

_Philo_

A dance!

_Reba_

But I knew you were up here alone--and I had heard--oh, my dear!--that
they were going to send you away. I couldn't bear it. I _had_ to come.
Oh, Philo, they shall not send you away! Dr. Seymour says all you need
is a new interest.

_Philo_

To dance, perhaps!

_Reba_

Well--why not? It is fun. We were to be in fancy dress, and I was going
as Night. See--(_waving her scarf_) this is my cloud--and my hair is the
moon! I washed it to-day so it would be fluffy. Just see how soft it is!

_Philo_ (_touching her hair_)

How fine! Will you give me a lock, Reba?

_Reba_

Oh, yes! Where are your scissors? Here! (_Takes scissors from table._)
You cut it, Philo. (_He takes scissors._) Anywhere. It's curly at the
neck and temples.

_Philo_ (_cutting lock_)

I don't want a curl. (_Puts hair carefully in table drawer._) I'm making
a new machine and I need long hairs for some of the parts.

_Reba_ (_raging_)

You sha'n't have it! You sha'n't!

    (_Tries to open drawer. They struggle. She gets her arms about his
    neck._)

_Philo_ (_pushing her off_)

Your throat----

    (_Kisses it. She clings to him, and he sits down, holding her on his
    knee._)

_Reba_

I knew! I knew! Oh, Philo, you _haven't_ forgotten! You
remember--everything!

_Philo_

Everything!

_Reba_

That day we went fishing and----

_Philo_ (_laughing_)

Forgot the tackle!

_Reba_

And that last evening in the orchard, when you said----

_Philo_

I love you!

_Reba_

Oh, you look just as you did then--so happy! I nearly died when I came
home and saw the change in your face. It seemed to shut me out, like a
great iron door. Philo.... You won't forget again?

_Philo_

Never!

_Reba_

And I may come every day?

_Philo_

Every day!

_Reba_

I'll help you, Philo. I'll give you all my hair. (_Lays her head on his
shoulder._) And I'll let you work and not think of me at all. You can
live with your stars----

_Philo_ (_kissing her_)

There are no stars!

_Reba_ (_laughing_)

I'll never be jealous again! (_Gets up._) Come! Let's see what the dinky
thing is doing!

    (_Goes to table._ PHILO _watches her, slowly repeating her name._)

_Reba_

What a little thing it is! And--there _is_ something fluttering!

    (PHILO _crosses, still seeing nothing but the girl._)

_Reba_

See--I'm trying to count--two--three----

    (_He looks down, and becomes transfixed._)

_Philo_

Oh, my God! They've changed the signal!... Look, Reba! Count the beats!
Count for me! Count!

_Reba_ (_confused_)

Two--three--no, four----

_Philo_

Can't you _count_? Get away! (_Pushes her aside._)
Two--three--four--three-- They have _changed_ it! Oh, I must answer!

_Reba_

Philo----

_Philo_

Go down!

_Reba_ (_clinging to him_)

I won't--I won't----

_Philo_ (_putting her in a chair_)

Sit there, then. And for God's sake be still! (_Returns to machine and
counts under his breath._) It is true--it is true--and I am not ready! I
am dumb, like all the world! I cannot let them know! (_Walks the floor,
muttering_) But I will--I must. (_Crosses to window._) I must do
it!--think of nothing else--nothing! I shall not sleep till it is
done!... But they will call me mad--lock me up before I have finished,
God, before I have finished!

_Reba_

Philo, listen!

_Philo_

It's the world's way ... to beat the spirit down ... the eager spirit,
superbly sane, daring to pierce the barriers between heaven and earth!

_Reba_

I'll not sit here! (_She sits nevertheless._)

_Philo_

Oh, Truth-driven martyrs, seers of visions, prophets of the old world
and the new, born out of your time to suffer by fire, by sword, and
prison bars!

_Reba_ (_cooingly_)

Dear Philo!

_Philo_

I too shall join you! Forerunners of the waking spirit of the world!

    (REBA _gets before him as he walks. Completely absorbed, he puts
    her aside, absently but gently, as if she were a kitten he did not
    wish to hurt._)

_Philo_

I must finish it--I must--before they beat me down! (_Pauses by
machine._) There is no one but me to do it. If I fail they may have
to wait another million years--out there--working, waiting. (_Resumes
walk._) I shall not fail. I have gone too far. God will take my part
now. Be it His own eternal sign, I will answer it!

_Reba_

I'll make you see me!

    (_Runs to table, leaps upon it and begins a dance among the wires
    and bottles. He is stunned for a moment, then rushes to her, seizes
    her waist with both hands, lifts her up, and flings her to a chair._)

_Philo_

Sit there, you dragon-fly! Or I'll crush you! (_Goes to window, as if
for breath and air. Recovers poise._) Let them think me mad. Up here I
shall work it out. And I shall not be alone. Earth will not hear me, but
the heavens will listen. (_Holds his hands toward the stars._) My only
friends!

_Reba_

Crush me! (_She steals up to the table, seizes a large book, and brings
it down with utter destruction upon his machine._ PHILO _turns and sees.
They face each other. She shrinks, terrified._) Don't, Philo! (_Kneels,
throwing back her head, showing the long line of her throat._) Forgive
me! It was driving you mad! I wanted to save you! Don't look like that!
Forgive me, Philo!

_Philo_

Your throat--is--so white!

    (_Seizes and chokes her. As he seizes her she gives a cry of terror._
    WARNER, MRS. W., SEYMOUR, _and_ BELLOWS _rush up the stairs and
    enter._ PHILO _takes his hands from the girl's throat and stands
    apart. She lies motionless._)

_Warner_ (_roaring_)

You've managed, Mary Ann!

_Bellows_ (_excitedly_)

Who's right, now, Seymour?

    (SEYMOUR _bends over_ REBA, _listening for her heart-beat._)

_Warner_ (_choking_)

A hanging in the family!

_Mrs. W._

Is she--dead?

_Seymour_

No. It is chiefly fear. (_Works over her body._)

_Philo_ (_to himself_)

Poor little bird! Poor little bird!

_Bellows_ (_taking a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and offering them
to_ WARNER)

Better clap these on him. We're none of us safe.

_Philo_

Handcuffs, doctor? I'll make no trouble.

    (_Holds out his hands and_ BELLOWS _fastens handcuffs._)

_Bellows_

It's for your own good, Philo.

_Seymour_

Our mistake--our mistake! Poor boy!

_Bellows_

Poor _girl_, I should say!

_Seymour_ (_lifting_ REBA)

I'll take her down-stairs. (_Carries her to door._) I shall need you,
Mrs. Warner.

    (MRS. W. _follows, weeping and looking back at_ PHILO.)

_Philo_

I'm all right, mother.

_Mrs. W._

_All right._ Oh, God help him! (_Exit._)

_Bellows_

Clean mad!

_Philo_ (_crosses, and looks down on the wreck of his machine_)

Silent ... but I have heard! The divine whisper has reached me!

_Bellows_

That's still on his mind, you see. Better leave him up here till
morning. Seymour and I will fix up the papers and take him off
to-morrow. I'm sorry, Philo, but you know it's for the best.

_Philo_

I'll make no trouble. Don't worry, doctor.

_Bellows_ (_to himself, going_)

Lord, he's cool! (_Advising_ WARNER, _in cautiously lowered
tone._) That's the way with the worst of them. (_Exit._)

_Warner_

Want me to stay with you, Philo?

_Philo_

No, father.

_Warner_ (_relieved_)

Good night, son. (_At door._) Mother'll send up some blankets. (_Exit._)

_Philo_

Blankets!...

(CURTAIN)






THE JOURNEY

BY

OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN




CHARACTERS


  PRINCESS WONG FE, _bride of Yu Tai Shun_
  SO SIU, _her friend_
  PRINCE CHING
  MAKURO, _of Japan_
  YU TAI SHUN, _of all nations_




THE JOURNEY


SCENE: _Room in a farmhouse above Siangtan, where the Siang flows among
    hills. The rear of room has wide exit to a porch, beyond which show
    the tops of pear and peach trees in full bloom. Steps lead down to
    the orchard, and the orchard slopes to the river._

    WONG FE _and_ SO SIU _present._


_Wong Fe_

My lily So Siu, has not the dishonorable color left my wretched cheeks?
Is not my face like the dough before it goes into the oven?

_So Siu_

Oh, my golden Fe, pearls in the dawn are no fairer!

_Wong Fe_

But these cow-girl's tatters! Would not my gown of meadow-green mist
with the peach-gold underrobe make me less haggard?

_So Siu_

When your lord, Yu Tai Shun, returns from the hills he will say----

_Wong Fe_

Oh, what will he say?

_So Siu_

That the fairies have been your friends. They wove for you this robe of
rose-leaves, and threw over you a gray cloud from the Witch's Mountain.

    (WONG FE _trips gaily, then with sudden surrender begins to weep._)

_So Siu_

Have no shame, beloved of miserable So Siu. Water must follow the fire.
I am only a maid, but I know that when the honeymoon is without tears
two pigs have married. Ah, wet my sleeve, my dear one, and not thine
that will lie on the neck of the golden lord, Yu Tai Shun.

_Wong Fe_

When I awoke this morning the sunlight was on my pillow, but Yu Tai Shun
was gone. All day I have not seen his face. And now the last swallow has
left the sky.

_So Siu_

Why did Prince Ching and the young Japanese choose this day to be guests
of Yu Tai Shun? It is sad for the wife when the friends of her lord find
her alone. Yu Tai Shun will beat his doorstep for not calling him.

_Wong Fe_

He will! Prince Ching is almost his father. May his age climb as the
hills, always nearer the sky!

_So Siu_

Indeed, you would be sitting alone in a cloud of sighs, not fast wedded
to the bringer of dawn, Yu Tai Shun, if Prince Ching had not won his way
to your brothers, the mighty princes, Wong Li and Wong Sen.

_Wong Fe_

I kiss his honorable dust! He shall live with my ancestors! And Makuro,
the young Japanese, I shall love him too, for he is most dear to Yu Tai
Shun. Do they still sit in the orchard?

_So Siu_

They have not moved, nor paused in their talking. Do you not hear? Like
bees that cannot choose their flower. It may be that they have brought
news to Yu Tai Shun, and his gloom will pass.

_Wong Fe_

No, I feel it was their coming, like a far cloud, that shadowed him. Oh,
my So Siu, it will be darker now!

_So Siu_

I have sent tea and cakes to the orchard.

_Wong Fe_

It shall not be dark. Do not the fairies of the sun weave a white world
out of the threads of midnight? I will pray to them. We must be merry,
my lily So Siu.

_So Siu_

And why not?

_Wong Fe_

I shall dance to-night before Yu Tai Shun. (_Tripping._) Is it not good
to have feet? My honorable and glorious mamma weeps when I dance, but it
is because she was born too soon and they crippled her beloved feet.

_So Siu_

How glad I am that the old world is gone when only the painted
flower-girls could do the happy things!

_Wong Fe_

And it was my own lord, Yu Tai Shun, who made the earth new again!

    (_She listens, suddenly still._)

_So Siu_

He is here!

_Wong Fe_

My darling So Siu....

_So Siu_

I go! (_Darts from room, right._)

_Wong Fe_

I would be dancing, but I cannot move. There are anchors of fear on my
toes.

    (_Enter_ YU TAI SHUN, _left. He is dressed in gray flannels, of
    American pattern._)

_Shun_ (_stopping before_ WONG FE)

I left a witch-cloud on the hills, and it has dropped down before me.

    (_She courtesies to the floor. He snatches her up._)

_Shun_

No! I want my Western bride to-night.

_Wong Fe_

But this is a Chinese orchard, and it is springtime. Let me worship a
little.

_Shun_

Never, my mountain bird!

    (_Draws her to the steps, where they sit._)

_Wong Fe_

You are weary, beloved?

_Shun_

Not now. I have my rest. To-morrow you shall go with me.

_Wong Fe_

Up the mountain?

_Shun_

I will show you where I dropped the storm in my heart.

_Wong Fe_ (_timidly_)

Will it come again, Yu Tai Shun?

_Shun_

Nothing can wake it again.

_Wong Fe_

Then indeed I am your bride!

_Shun_

Heart of my body art thou, Wong Fe!

    (_Holds her to his breast a moment, looking distantly out. Suddenly
    sees his friends approaching._)

_Shun_

We have guests?

_Wong Fe_ (_quickly springing up_)

Forgive me! Your friends are here. Prince Ching, and Makuro, from Japan.

_Shun_

Makuro?

    (_He throws up his right hand. In a moment_ PRINCE CHING _and_
    Makuro _are seen advancing from the orchard_.)

_Wong Fe_

They have had my welcome. I leave you. (_Crosses to right, reluctantly._)

_Shun_

Return to us soon, my gold of the morning.

    (_She goes out_. CHING _and the Japanese enter._)

_Ching_

We have waited, Yu Tai Shun. We knew that the setting sun would turn a
bridegroom home.

_Makuro_

Master!

_Shun_

My friend! What brings you to China?

_Makuro_ (_with steady gaze_)

You know. I have come for you.

_Shun_ (_stubbornly, as if chidden_)

My work is done. China is free.

_Ching_

Her slavery is only beginning. You may hide your body but you cannot
bury your mind under peach-blossoms.

_Shun_

The republic is established.

_Ching_

But not a democracy.

_Shun_

My work is done. Twenty years have I given to the cause of the people.
Now until I die I will toil and sing in the fields of my fathers.

    (_They have gradually come to centre of room, which servants have
    lighted_. WONG FE _silently returns, but at a sign from_ CHING
    _she retreats and remains by wall, right, participating in the
    scene that follows, though_ YU TAI SHUN _and_ MAKURO _are unaware
    of her presence._)

_Makuro_

Do you remember when I stood here once before, Yu Tai Shun?

_Shun_

Can you ask me that, Makuro?

_Makuro_

Why not, when you seem to have forgotten all that passed between us? I
went from that meeting with an imperishable fire in my heart. I return,
and the light that kindled mine is dark. We stood here, and the words
you spoke were brighter than the lamps of Siangtan that we looked down
upon. Shall I repeat them, Yu Tai Shun?

    (_Shun is silent._)

_Ching_

I would hear them, Makuro.

_Makuro_

The master said: "Forty centuries has China been content to plough, to
sow, to reap, and with her harvest support one-quarter of the human lives
on our planet. Drudgery has been her lot, frugality her virtue. Only so
had she lease of breath. Now she is to unlock her mines, build ships,
and roads of commerce, and with the magic of machinery set her people
free. If that magic is owned by a few, there will be no freedom, but
a slavery whose agony no man can tell. Every owner will be a monarch
greater than the Son of Heaven to whom we bowed. We cannot shut them out
by war. We can do it solely by making China a true democracy where the
people themselves own the magic tools and the great ways to the markets.
To do this is the work of all who love Freedom, and I know no other
goddess." Were these your words, Yu Tai Shun?

_Shun_

Yes ... my words.

_Makuro_

That was five years ago. From all parts of the earth come powers
fulfilling your fear. Leagued with our own purblind princes and dwellers
in the dusk, they hover over China, waiting for war and bribery to
dismember her. And you say your work is done. Yu Tai Shun, where have
you buried my master?

_Ching_

In the heart of the Princess Wong Fe.

_Shun_ (_rallying_)

May we not be too stern in our judgment of the lords of steam and iron?
Lei Kung Sang and the British minister of the So-nan mineral beds have
built houses for the people.

_Ching_

And have taken their land. Men who plucked their own fruit, and took
food from their own gardens, now cannot eat until they have torn new
treasure out of the earth for the kind Briton and the good Lei Kung
Sang.

_Shun_

Their days of work were always long and weary.

_Ching_

But they toiled as free men in the sun, and as free men sang from the
river-boats when the moon rose. In America, where there is still much
land and few people, there are places where children go down into the
mines and never see the sun except on the day they call "holy." How will
it be with China's four hundred millions, when there are not even waste
places where those who would flee may gather? For even her great
untilled spaces are being covered by the foreign hand.

_Makuro_

Slavery will be born again with depths the ancients never knew.

_Shun_

But the spirit of brotherhood is growing.

_Makuro_

Power has no brothers! It was you who taught me that, Yu Tai Shun.

_Shun_

Do you forget that we built our republic with the aid of these same
princes of power?

_Ching_

We forget nothing. They let us beat down the throne because they could
not use it--a rigid tradition--but the republic--_they_ are the
republic!

_Shun_

Can we not trust a little? In our greatest need, alien hands have
reached out to help us. And we have true hearts among our Chinese
lords. Not all have joined with the invader to herd the people into
slave-yards. Pei Chen-Ping and Sa Yi are most liberal. You, Prince
Ching, and those you gather to you, have hearts like the rising sun. And
the noble princes of the house of Wong--have they not given me my bride?

_Ching_

Ay, when your sighs had blown around the world for seven years, they
yielded her. You were a power to be checked, and they set a woman in
your path.

_Shun_

No!

_Ching_

It was a Japanese from the Fushun collieries, a Russian prince of the
Northern railways, a French buyer of Yunnan copper, a British ship-baron
of Hongkong, and the Chinese owners of the unworked gold veins of
Szechuan, who went to the brothers of Wong Fe and said: "Give Yu Tai
Shun his bride."

_Shun_

It was you who spoke for me!

_Ching_

You had no father, and in my heart you were my son. I spoke for you
because I believed in you. I did not think that any bribe could lure you
from us. Yours was a soul that we thought would be a torch to every
nation of earth. And you choose to go out like a candle in the breath of
a woman.

    (YU TAI SHUN _is bowed and silent._ MAKURO _touches his sleeve._)

_Makuro_

Come with us, master.

_Ching_

In half an hour the boat will stop at the orchard pier for Makuro. He
starts for Japan. It is there you are needed.

_Makuro_

I come from our friends with their summons. Japan's oligarchy of
traders, with every means known to power--school, religion, racial pride
and hate--is fostering the spirit of war. All the seeds of the jungle
are being deliberately sown once more in men's hearts. They are
preparing Japan to hold the largest share of an industrially broken
China and weld her millions into one instrument of hate against the
West.

_Shun_

A pigmy's dream!

_Ching_

A dream that will come true if our giants continue to sleep.

_Makuro_

It is the menace of America that Japan holds before her people till
their hearts roll with fear, their brains grow sick with rage. America,
who has insulted us with exclusion--who has snatched an island chain
from our Eastern waters, and shot, starved, imprisoned thousands
ignorant enough and brave enough to resist her. _That_ is the America my
people are taught to believe in. But you know a different America, where
people love honor and hate war--whose religion is love thy neighbor as
thyself. Come, teach them of that America! You are known in a million
homes of Japan. You have taught us to love you, and where we love, we
listen.

_Shun_ (_with great effort_)

I cannot go. If I part from Wong Fe the blood will leave my veins and
flow back to her.

_Makuro_

Then take her with you.

_Shun_

You know what this journey means.

_Ching_

Yes, you must go free. With such a weight you would be useless. I will
take Wong Fe to her brothers.

_Shun_

I shall hold her forever!

_Ching_

You think joy can last so long? (_To_ MAKURO, _shrugging._) A boy yet!

_Shun_

In Japan you have my young scholar, Onoto. All my knowledge I have given
him. In his heart is my purpose, his eyes hold my vision.

_Makuro_

Onoto!

_Shun_

His years are younger, his flame will leap higher. I am only one who
fails you. In every nation our numbers are growing. Do not fear for
humanity. Our brothers are everywhere.

_Makuro_

You say Onoto?

_Shun_

He has the gift of the shining word--the word that draws the heart as a
full moon at sea draws the eye. I can turn my back on the world and rob
it of nothing, for I have given it Onoto.

_Ching_

How long have you been chirping here like a cricket under a leaf, with
no news from the roadside?

_Shun_

It is three weeks to-day since I brought Wong Fe to the door of my
fathers.

_Ching_

Three weeks! On the very day of your joy Onoto was thrown into prison.

_Shun_

They would not dare!

_Makuro_

They did dare.

_Shun_

In prison--Onoto!

_Makuro_

No, he is not now in prison.

_Shun_

Free?

_Makuro_

The enmity of the powers was bitter. Everywhere he was sowing the seed
of peace. In many a house the ancestral sword was broken at his bidding.

_Shun_

But he is free?

_Makuro_

Yesterday (_glances out at the stars_), at this hour, he was shot.

_Shun_ (_slowly comprehending_)

Then I have been twenty-four hours dead.

    (_He steps uncertainly out to the little porch. They gaze at the
    floor, respecting his grief_. WONG FE _makes a motion to follow
    him._ CHING _stops her with a gesture, and she shrinks back._ YU
    TAI SHUN _re-enters._)

_Shun_

Your mercy, friends. (_Crosses left, to exit._)

_Ching_

You will go with us now?

_Shun_ (_turns and hurls the word_)

No!

    (_An instant of silence follows his exit, then_ WONG FE _comes
    forward._)

_Wong Fe_

Peace to your hearts, honorable friends of Yu Tai Shun! He will depart
with you.

_Ching_

Not yet. We must wait. Invisible chains cannot be broken. But they will
disunite of themselves. Then he will come.

_Wong Fe_

I will send him with you to-night.

_Ching_

_You_ send him?

_Wong Fe_

Do you think I will divide his life so that the two halves can bear no
fruit? That I will wait until he hates me for that ruin?

_Ching_ (_with laughter_)

Hates you, oh princess!

_Wong Fe_

Wait till I must glean in his heart behind a spent passion?--like a poor
widow in the track of a grain-cart?

_Ching_

The coral of your lips will defeat their command, Wong Fe. Near you he
is a dry fagot seized by a flame.

_Wong Fe_

I tell you he will go! Wait in the orchard until you hear the first
whistle of the boat. Then come for him. He will be ready. Go, honorable
friends! He is returning.

_Ching_

It is useless. Your words may bite like winter, but his eyes will see
only the Spring morning.

_Wong Fe_

Go, I beg you, go!

    (_They pass out down the steps of porch._ WONG FE _hurries to a small
    table, opens a lacquered box and takes from it a stiletto, which she
    hides in the folds of her sleeve. She is dancing as_ YU TAI SHUN
    _enters, and sings as she dances._)

  The thousand odors of Spring
  Are the thousand arms of love.
  They find thee in the valleys,
  On the crest of the hills they reach thee;
  Till Spring bear no fragrance
  Thou canst not escape them,
  The thousand arms of love!

  The orchard pool is a pillow,
  A pillow for the twin lotus,
  And the wings of the flying geese
  Are warm in the air of heaven;
  They drop to the shadowy lake-sedge,
  For sweet looks the earth from the roads of the sky,
  And in heaven are no cool grasses.

  Ever listening
  Are the leaves of the slim dryanda,
  Whose heart is the harp of the Spring-wind.
  A dryanda-tree is my lover,
  And my thoughts are the leaves that listen.
  Autumn, Autumn, touch not my leaf-thoughts!
  Cast them not down when the pool is grey,
  And the teal no more sail two and two
  With their breasts above one shadow.


_Shun_

Come to me, Wong Fe! I feel that you have blown through my door like
a rose petal, and will drift away again, leaving me not a footprint
to kiss.

_Wong Fe_

Neither in life nor in death shall I leave you, my lord. Though I seem
to die, and these graces that please you fall to earth like
willow-blossoms, it is not I that will lie on the sand.

_Shun_

Why do you speak of death, Wong Fe?

_Wong Fe_

Because I am so happy. The sages say that we can have no fairer fortune
than to die in our happiest moment.

_Shun_

Do not speak of death. The word blisters the air, though your lips be as
two drops of June rain.

_Wong Fe_

But how sweet to die when I am fairest in your eyes! Every year, at this
time, you would walk down the peach-flower lanes and recall the glow of
my cheek. Oh, Heaven, let me not be a faded wife in the blooming time of
the year!

_Shun_

Thy soul, Wong Fe, is the flower of my worship.

_Wong Fe_

And death would give my soul wholly to you. I should be near you always.
Then morning would not call you to the peaks, leaving me behind in the
tear-dew.

_Shun_

To-morrow we shall go together. Your shadow will be with mine on the
rocks, and under the fir-trees we shall forget the valley.

_Wong Fe_

And the world? Oh, my lord, there are distances farther than the peaks
of Siang, and they will call you from me. It cannot be that you who have
known all lands will be content with one. I would see the strange people
you have made your brothers, would listen to their dreams, and read the
future with their hearts. There are dangers you would not let my body
share--I do not ask that--but my soul, you could forbid it nothing.

_Shun_

What have you heard? What has Makuro said to you?

_Wong Fe_

What should he say but that the cakes were good, and the tea had the
flavor of the fields of Hunan?

_Shun_

We must join our friends. Where do they wait?

_Wong Fe_

They listen for the boat that will stop at the foot of the orchard. Why
do they go? Old friends should not be so brief in greeting. Could they
not stay one night?

_Shun_

No--no. (_Sits down_.) They must go.

_Wong Fe_ (_laying her hand on his shoulder_)

What voice dost thou hear, and wilt not answer?

_Shun_

Nothing--nothing.

_Wong Fe_

You will not long be deaf between the beating of our two hearts. You
will hear and go. That is why I long for the death-fairy to come in my
hour of happiness. You have joined with strong men to lift a heavy yoke
from the world. My smiles cannot feed your spirit. Go with your friends.
Let the whistle of the boat part us.

_Shun_

The cassia-tree may draw itself from earth, and walk on feet of roots
through the world, but I cannot divide my days from yours, for you are
myself, Wong Fe.

_Wong Fe_ (_resigned_)

I believe you, my lord. We shall not part. But what joy it would be to
die now in your presence, while the love-cup is full! Oh, I could not
meet death alone! You know the poor ghost in the song who died in the
absence of her lover? She is always pleading to be allowed to die again
when his arms may be around her. So would my ghost go wailing if I lost
your kiss in death. (_Touches his cheek_.) Is that a tear, Yu Tai Shun?
I torture you because I am so happy! You shall laugh, my prince! I know
a new game we shall play. Little So Siu taught it to me to-day. She says
it is an American game. We call it "Guess behind you!" You turn your
back--like that--and you must tell me what I am doing. When you miss
three times, then I shall tell you what you must pay. Now--what is it
I do?

_Shun_

You throw me a kiss.

_Wong Fe_

So I do! And now, my soul's light?

    (_Takes stiletto from her sleeve. The whistle of the boat is heard.
    He turns. She hides stiletto._)

_Shun_

Our friends are going.

_Wong Fe_

But wait--there is time. You must guess once more! Oh, you are slow as
ten turns of a river! There!

    (_Turns his head with her hands, then snatches the stiletto, stabs
    herself and falls. He turns, kneels dazedly, and takes her in his arms
    as she dies._ CHING _and_ MAKURO _enter._)

_Ching_

The boat-- (_Stops in consternation._)

_Makuro_ (_softly_)

Master, I did not ask this price.

_Shun_ (_rising_)

It is paid.

(CURTAIN)






EVERYCHILD

A PLAY OR PAGEANT

BY

FREDERICK PETERSON

AND

OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN




DRAMATIS PERSONAE

_Scene I. The Garden of Joy_

    Cho-Cho The Clown Everychild Mother, Father, and dancing children

_Scene II. Sweat-shop_

    Father, Mother, three children, Everychild

_Scene III. The Farmstead_

    Jim the Father, Mary the Mother, Billie, Tom, and Rosie, their
    children. Cho-Cho and Everychild

_Scene IV. The Coal-mine_

    Joe, Jack, Bert--three old miners and two boys

_Final Scene. Same as first scene_

    Cho-Cho, Everychild, Mother, Father. Old group of children and new
    group with Everychild




PROLOGUE

BY CHO-CHO


    Good people!
  This is the Play of Everychild
  With Cho-Cho
  As Author and Manager.
  The play has defects--
  It has good points--
  And bad points--
  Like the world itself--
  Like life!
  Perhaps the author of the world
  Is something like me,
  A little grotesque,
  A little whimsical,
  Serious often,
  Sometimes all the more serious
  Seen through a Fool's words
  With cap and jingle of bells.
  In this droll world
  There are lots of children
  Who are the children of fools--
  Like me.
  Good people!
  I bespeak your patience
  With Everychild
  Daughter of a Clown.


    SCENE I: _Stage dark as curtain rises. Moderate starlight and quiet
    music of cradle-song type. Little fairies come out dancing in the
    darkness with firefly lamps and sing the following cradle song:_


  Some one is sleeping
    Out in the dark
  Where fireflies glimmer
    Spark upon spark.

  Some little stranger
    Come from afar
  Under the glory
    Of moon and of star.

  Deep in the blossoms
    That drift as they fall
  Some one is sleeping
    And stirs not at all.

  Sleep, little stranger!
    The night is near gone;
  Sleep, little stranger,
    But dream of the dawn!


    _The dim light reveals a dark figure lying on the mosses at the foot
    of an old tree. As the light grows gradually stronger the dark object
    begins to move, to slowly take off one after another of black
    coverings, revealing a little girl of nine or ten years, dressed in
    white. She rubs her eyes, looks about wonderingly, and slowly rises
    to a standing position. Meanwhile the earth grows more luminous and
    roseate. The birds have begun to twitter now and then before the dawn,
    and their notes increase in number and variety with the approach of
    morning. The growing light reveals an orchard of old apple-trees near
    at hand in full bloom, with petals falling, and hills and mountains
    lifting and towering upward higher and higher into the blue distance.
    A path leads from the orchard up the near hills and toward the
    heights. The music has grown louder, and is sweet and tender,
    interspersed with bird notes. A number of children, girls and boys,
    come out and sing and dance under the blossoms of the apple-trees.
    They sing the children's song:_


  We are of the sunrise
    Flower-breath and dew,
  Travelling wider circles
    Of blue beyond the blue,

  Seeking strength of spirit,
    Happiness and joy--
  Heritage decreed for
    Every girl and boy.

  Music of the moonbeams
    And the orchard rain,
  Music of the meadows
    Waving with the grain,

  Mountains in the sunlight,
    Colors of the flowers,
  Trailing cloud and shadow--
    All of these are ours.

  We are of the sunrise
    Flower-breath and dew,
  Travelling wider circles
    Of blue beyond the blue.



    _The little girl in the foreground looks with wonder and delight
    at the entrancing spectacle. She has her side to the audience.
    She raises her arms, listens, rubs her eyes, smiles with joy. She
    touches the grass, the flowers, the trees, picks up and smells the
    falling apple-blossoms. She begins to dance like the other children.
    One of them sees her and runs toward her with arms outstretched.
    The newcomer touches her hair and her hands. They smile at each
    other. The little girl leads the stranger toward the others and has
    her join in the dance. The dancing is in the Greek manner. They play
    with a light, large, bubble-like balloon._


_Little Girl_

What is your name?

_Stranger_

I do not understand.

_Little Girl_

Oh, of course, I forgot. I will lead you to some one who will give you a
name.

    (_A man and woman have come slowly through the orchard and seated
    themselves on a bench under an apple-tree. Two or three of the
    children lead the stranger up to them._)

_Stranger_ (_feeling of the hair and gown of the woman_)

Who are you?

_Woman_ (_smiling_)

I am your mother.

_Stranger_ (_feeling of the hair and face and garments of the man_)

Who are you?

_Man_

I am your father.

_Stranger_

What place is this? They told me somewhere--but I have forgotten--that I
should die _there_ which is being born _here_ and come to the earth.

_Mother_

Yes, this is our world, and I shall give you a name. I shall name you
Everychild.

_Everychild_

Is it always and everywhere so beautiful?

_Mother_

No, but it should be so, and some day it will be so.

_Father_

It is a dream we have.

_Mother_

It will be even more beautiful than this, for we shall go higher, and
climb those Morning Mountains. The flowers of the Spirit grow there.

_Everychild_

And we shall gather them?

_Father_

Yes, Everychild. Come now, and bring all the others with you. We will
take that path yonder to the hills.

_Mother_

No, wait! They are not all here. There are some missing. They must all
come.

_Father_

It will be so long to wait. Let us go with these.

_Mother_ (_laying her hand on_ EVERYCHILD'S _head_)

Have we not named her Everychild?

_Father_

Yes. She must go down and find all who have lost their way. Perhaps some
have awakened in the wrong place and are wandering about in the dark
jungle of the world. We will wait here till they come.

_Mother_

Go, Everychild. Find them and bring them all back with you. Take this
lamp. (_Hands her a rose-colored lamp, etc._)

_Father_

Our lamp?

_Mother_

Our love!

_Father_

Take it, Everychild. With this lamp you can find the lost children and
bring them all back with you.

_Mother_

We will wait for them no matter how long.

    (EVERYCHILD _starts down along a path leading off the stage to
    the right--the music and singing continue through the whole scene._
    CHO-CHO _appears, right, for a moment and points her path to her
    saying: "This way, Everychild."_)

(CURTAIN FALLS)

CURTAIN _rises revealing_


    SCENE II: _A squalid room in a city tenement, a miserable stove,
    a bedraggled bed. Right, a table at which a poorly dressed man and
    woman are working fast and feverishly. Three children of about four,
    eight, and ten years sit on a bench, left, sewing as fast as they
    can, looking tired, depressed, weary. It is evening, the room poorly
    lit. Noises from the street, street calls, rumbling of vehicles, honk
    of autos, etc., etc._


_The Younger Child_

Ma, can I go to bed? I am so tired and hungry.

_Mother_

It ain't ten yet. It will be only a few minutes more. The boss is coming
early in the morning and we must have the work ready. Now you be still
and keep working. You don't know what a good home you got. Ain't she got
a good home, John?

_Father_

You bet she got a good home, and if you all work now we get the good
coffee and bread in the morning and perhaps in a couple a weeks we all
go to the movies.

_Oldest Child_

Gee, I like to see that fairy play what we see once.

    (_Bell strikes ten._)

_Mother_

Now, go right to bed, children. It is ten o'clock.

    (_Takes light and goes with husband into room right. Children undress
    and scramble into one bed._)

    (_Street noises all discontinue, back of room opens out on to the
    orchard and the music of first scene is heard with dancing children._
    EVERYCHILD _comes into the room with her rosy lamp. The three children
    sit up in bed and rub their eyes._ EVERYCHILD _glides all about the
    room and looks at the squalid place in dismay, then goes up and smiles
    at the children._)

_Everychild_

You are some of the lost children. How did you get in here? Come with
me. I will give you some better clothes and you can dance and sing with
all of them.

    (_They get out of bed and she leads them in wonder and joy out into
    the orchard._)

(CURTAIN FALLS)


    SCENE III: _Plain interior of a farmer's kitchen with farmer's
    wife busy over stove, and kitchen table set for lunch for two. Adjacent
    room, left, small bedroom in which lies a pallid thin child in bed with
    dishes and bottles on little bedside table. Very little light. Curtains
    to a single window down. Farmer in overalls comes in, looking hot and
    tired. He throws hat on chair, says "Hullo, Mary, dinner ready?" and
    proceeds to wash hands and face in a basin on a stool. Then sits down
    at the table._


_Mary_ (_bringing food from stove and sitting down opposite_)

Here we are, Jim. Guess you're ready for something. It takes a man to
sprout a patch o' locusts, and you had breakfast by lamplight.

_Jim_

Some o' them roots seemed as long as from here to the barn.

_Mary_

But you'll have the best pasture in the county next year.

_Jim_

What's the good? We rationed our beef steers the way that government
chap taught us, and our pigs, and our sheep, and who got the profit?

_Mary_

A lot more documents came from the government to-day--all about _pigs_.
And we haven't got a decent house to live in! If we could only build on
that pretty bit of high ground I've had picked out for three years,
Rosie would quit havin' these sick spells.

_Jim_

How is she, mother?

_Mary_

I b'lieve she's a little better. Jim, have you got any money left from
sellin' the car?

_Jim_

You know we had to pay the interest at the bank first of all, and the
rest went for fertilizer.

_Mary_

I miss the car more on Rosie's account than mine. She's been cryin'
for a ride this morning. I didn't know what to say. And I had to promise
her she could go to the picnic if she got well. That'll mean a pretty
dress, and hat and shoes.

_Jim_

I don't know where you'll get 'em then.

_Mary_

Looks like we ought to be able to give our children a little pleasure.
There's poor Billie and Tom don't more'n get home from school an' lay
their books down till they have to go to hoein' and pullin' weeds. I
don't blame Billie a bit for runnin' away and goin' fishin' last
Saturday.

_Jim_

I don't either, though I had to whip him for it. I can't do without his
work and get through.

_Mary_

Get through? When did we ever get through anyhow? Look at this, Jim.
(_Picks up paper and points to paragraph._) Beef steers sold to-day in
Chicago at nine cents a pound. It cost us fourteen cents to raise ours,
and we're countin' on makin' things easier by raisin' more next year.
And see here, it says _beef_ went _up_ in the Eastern market four cents.

_Jim_

Steers down, beef up! Robbin' both ways.

    (_Enter_ BILLIE _and_ TOM _with schoolbooks, which they throw down,
    shouting: "We got a half-holiday!"_)

_Billie_

The big boys are goin' to play ball. Dad, can't we go watch 'em?
(MARY _and_ JIM _look at each other._)

We ain't seen a ball game this year, and we want to learn to play.
They're makin' a little boys' team at school.

_Mary_

Daddy's workin' awfully hard to-day. He needs you bad to pile brush for
him.

_Jim_

You can't go to-day, boys. Next time----

_Billie_ (_hopeless_)

Oh, next time! It's always next time.

_Mary_

Wash up now, and you can have a hot dinner.

    (_They wash listlessly._)

_Jim_

Mary, I think you'd better telephone for the doctor to come and have a
look at Rosie.

_Mary_ (_hesitating_)

I did--this morning. He said he didn't have time to come out to-day.

_Jim_

Dr. Lowden?

_Mary_

Guess he's tired o' comin' for nothing. You can't blame him.

    (JIM _hangs his head. A knock at the door._ JIM _rises and opens it._
    CHO-CHO _enters giggling and grimacing while the farmer and his wife
    are speechless with amazement._)

_Cho-Cho_

You sent for a doctor?

_Jim_

Yes--but--you--ain't--no doctor.

_Cho-Cho_

No, I--ain't--no--doctor (_mimicking_), but my daughter is a doctor and
here she is now.

    (_Enter_ EVERYCHILD _disguised as a doctor, with a long black cape
    hiding her white dress, a pair of goggles over her eyes, a long white
    beard, a white wig, a man's hat on, a little black bag in her hands._)

_Jim_ (_tearing his hair distractedly_)

You say that little old man is your daughter and a doctor?

_Cho-Cho_

That's right--but a new kind of doctor. This is a Health doctor, not a
Disease doctor. Present treatment for Health--absent treatment for
absence of Health. (_Ha--ha--hee--hee!_) I'll leave the doctor here.
(_Goes out._)

_Everychild_

Well, well, where is the patient? (_Putting hat on chair._)

_Jim_

I must be crazy, but I never seen a doctor like you. You ain't no
doctor.

_Everychild_

Oh, yes I am. I'm a children's specialist. Is she in that room? (_Goes
to door and opens it_--_draws back a little._) Whew! No air. Lift up
that curtain and open the window! (JIM _does it, rather aghast._) You
must show me where you keep your pigs. Don't they get light and air on a
day like this? (_Goes toward bed as_ ROSIE _rises up in bed and stares
with a smile at the little doctor_.) So this is the little patient.
Well! Well! (_Lifts up and looks at the bottles._) Take these and throw
them out. (_Hands them to_ MARY, _who takes them out and returns._) My!
My! Pork and potatoes and candy! Of all things! I'll have to make out a
diet list later. (_Feels pulse--listens to her chest._) I think the
trouble with you is bad food, bad air, and no light. The trouble is not
enough agricultural pamphlets on human live stock, not enough government
millions spent on the real thing. Now get up, Rose! Let me see you
stand. There, that's good. Now a comb and brush--we'll help this hair
a little.

_Mary_ (_handing_ EVERYCHILD _a comb and brush_)

My hands are so full of work----

_Everychild_ (_arranging_ ROSIE'S _hair_)

Yes, that's better. Now, father, a glass of milk! (JIM _goes
into kitchen._) And mother, open that bag, please.

    (_While_ MARY _opens bag._ JIM _returns with glass of milk, which_
    ROSIE _drinks._)

_Mary_

Oh, my!

    (_Takes out pretty dress, stockings and slippers, which she lifts up,
    looks at delightedly, and carries to the doctor._)

_Rosie_

Oh, mother! You did get them!

    (EVERYCHILD _works fast, slips the gown on the patient with the
    stockings and slippers, while_ ROSIE _smiles happily, though
    dazed by the splendor of it._)

_Rosie_

Are you going to take me to the picnic?

_Everychild_

Indeed I am! A picnic that will never be over!

_Rosie_

Are we going to ride? Have we got our car back?

_Everychild_

Better than that.

_Rosie_

What is it?

_Everychild_

You'll see. Maybe you'll dance out of the window.

_Mary_

Are you going to take her away?

_Everychild_

Yes, I shall keep her with me until she is well. Then she will return to
you.

    (_Takes out of the bag the rosy lamp and waves it. Throws aside her
    cap and pulls off goggles, wig, and beard. The back wall moves away,
    revealing the first scene with the same strains of music and the
    dancing children in the orchard._ EVERYCHILD _leads_ ROSIE _out to
    join them._ BILLIE _and_ TOM _move after them calling: "Let us go
    with you! Take us with you!"_)

_Rosie_

Oh, please take Billie and Tom!

_Everychild_

Yes, I want them, too. Come along, boys!

    (_They shout and run after_ ROSIE _and_ EVERYCHILD.)

_Mary_

Oh, Jim, is this a dream? Or am I awake at last?

_Jim_ (_putting his hand to his head, dazedly_)

Perhaps this is what it ought to be for all the children of the world.

(CURTAIN FALLS)


    SCENE IV: _Interior of a coal-mine, lit only by lamps on the
    heads of three men and two boys, about twelve and fourteen years, the
    men busy at work getting the coal down with picks, the boys shovelling
    coal into a car. They work a few minutes. Distant muffled sound of a
    steam-whistle. They immediately drop tools and go to corner and pick
    up each a can, paper bag, or small basket, and sit down to eat._


_One Man_

Lunch-time. It feels good to rest half an hour in this bloomin' hole.
(_Takes a drink from a bottle he brings from his pocket and hands to
another._) Have a swig, Jack?

_Jack_

Don't care if I do. (_Takes a swallow._) I'll bring some next time, Joe.

_Joe_ (_passing bottle to the other_)

Here, Bert, it helps. Take some and give a swallow to the boys.

_Bert_

I'll take some and thank you, but I guess the boys are better off
without it.

_Jack_

How long you worked here, Bert?

_Bert_

Nigh on fifteen years, and a devil's job it is. I wanted to be a sailor,
but I got into this, and it paid pretty good, and then I got tangled up
with a family and just stayed on the job. But it's no place to spend a
life. (_Coughs._)

_Joe_

I been here 'bout as long as you, Bert. I ran away from the big woods
where my father was a lumberman. Thought I'd see the world, and just got
stuck here and never could make up my mind to get away. See the world,
eh! All I ever seed was de inside of it. If I had my way to do over
again, I think I'd take to the tall timber up dere on top.

    (_Meantime the two boys, while eating with one hand out of their cans,
    have been whispering and playing knuckle-bones with pieces of coal,
    a little way from and behind the men. Suddenly they stop, look around
    at each other and listen, for they hear the fairy dance music of
    the first scene, which is not heard by these older men, who go on
    talking._)

_First Boy_

Dey's havin' parade up dere.

_Second Boy_

Dat ain't band music, you mutt.

    (FIRST BOY _begins to sway as if in time with the music._)

_Second Boy_

Wot's the matter?

_First Boy_ (_sheepish_)

Nuthin'. (_Tries to keep still. They both listen._) Did yer ever dance,
Buck?

_Second Boy_

Naw. (_Listens._) But I bet I could!

_First Boy_

I had a dream onct. I dremp I's in an orchard, an' they's blooms
floatin' round. I could smell 'em!

_Second Boy_

You's nutty. You can't smell in a dream.

    (_They listen, and finally yield to the music, swaying their bodies,
    moving their arms, and beginning to dance as the music goes on._)

_Jack_

I've been here fourteen years, since I was a boy. It ain't a place for
a man. It's too black. You get black outside and inside. Why, they say
your lungs get black from breathing this dust. And your soul gets black.
The place for an honest man to work is out in the white light, on your
ocean or in your woods, or on the roads and railways, and in the big
buildings. This kind of work is work with punishment added to it. A
little of it would be all right for men who go wrong, or for some as
needs discipline. Then some day they'll get machines to do the rest.
Ah--there's the whistle. Come on, boys, to work again!

    (_A whistle sounds and all start to work as before._)

(CURTAIN FALLS)


    FINAL SCENE: _Curtain rises on final scene. Same as first, with
    music as before, and with the mother and father and children among
    the apple-trees._ CHO-CHO _appears, right, and says: "Here they
    come!"_ EVERYCHILD _enters, right, bringing with her a number
    of children, who follow her and then scatter under the trees._

_Everychild_

Oh, mother, I went everywhere, and we've brought all who could come!
But there were some in holes in the ground that I couldn't reach, though
we danced and danced, and called and called. They were too far down.
And there were some ill and crippled, in hospitals, that couldn't walk,
and some hidden away in great buildings called factories--and some in
tenements, where there was no sun, and no green grass to walk on.
Mother, what shall we do? It was so hard to leave them. Won't you go
back with me, and help me?

_Mother_

Yes, Everychild. We must all go. Not one must be left down there.

_Father_

Yes, we cannot go on up the Morning Mountains until they come.

_Mother_

We will start at once, all of us, down through the highways and valleys
and cities of the world, and bring them here. Come, children, let us go.

    (_They gather about her and start down, right, singing as they
    go._ CHO-CHO _lingers behind for a few moments and pronounces an
    epilogue._)




EPILOGUE


  Not all here yet--
  But they must come
  To this sunshine--
  To these mountains--
  To these birds and trees--
  To the music--
  To the Land of Health,
  The Land of Happiness--
  They may be gay _there_--
      Sometimes--
      Sometimes--
  But _that_ is a fool's Paradise--
  My old Kingdom--
  And I must lead them up
  To this new land
  Of hope and joy.


(CURTAIN FALLS)






TWO DOCTORS AT AKRAGAS

BY

FREDERICK PETERSON




CHARACTERS


  AKRON
  EMPEDOCLES
  PANTHEIA




TWO DOCTORS AT AKRAGAS

[_Atlantic Monthly_, 1911.]


_Akron_

She has been dead these thirty days.

_Empedocles_

How say you, thirty days! and there is no feature of corruption?

_Akron_

None. She has the marble signature of death writ in her whole fair
frame. She lies upon her ivory bed, robed in the soft stuffs of Tyre, as
if new-cut from Pentelikon by Phidias, or spread upon the wood by the
magic brush of Zeuxis, seeming as much alive as this, no more, no less.
There is no beat of heart nor slightest heave of breast.

_Empedocles_

And have you made the tests of death?

_Akron_

There is no bleeding to the prick, nor film of breath upon the bronze
mirror. They have had the best of the faculty in Akragas, Gela, and
Syracuse, all save you; and I am sent by the dazed parents to beseech
you to leave for a time the affairs of state and the great problems
of philosophy, to essay your ancient skill in this strange mystery of
life in death and death in life.

_Empedocles_

I will go with you. Where lies the house?

_Akron_

Down yonder street of statues, past the Agora, and hard by the new
temple that is building to Olympian Zeus. It is the new house of yellow
sandstone, three stories in height, with the carved balconies and
wrought brazen doors. Pantheia is her name. I lead the way.

_Empedocles_

The streets are full to-day and dazzling with color. So many carpets
hang from the windows, and so many banners are flying! So many
white-horsed chariots, and such concourses of dark slaves from every
land in the long African crescent of the midland sea, from the pillars
of Hercules to ferocious Carthage and beyond to the confines of Egypt
and Phoenicia! Ah, I remember now! It is a gala day--the expected
visit of Pindar. I am to dine with him to-morrow at the Trireme. We
moderns are doing more to celebrate his coming than our fathers did
for AEschylus when he was here. I was very young then, but I remember
running with the other boys after him just to touch his soft gown and
look into his noble face.

_Akron_

I have several rolls of his plays, that I keep with some new papyri of
Pindar arrived by the last galley from Corinth, in the iron chest inside
my office door, along with some less worthy bags of gold of Tarshish and
coinage of Athens, Sybaris, Panormos, and Syracuse. Ah, here is the
door! It is ajar, and if you will go into the courtyard by the fountain
and seat yourself under the palm-trees and azaleas on yon bench, by the
statue of the nymph, I will go up to announce your coming.

_Empedocles_

All is still save for the far, faint step of Akron on the stair, and the
still fainter murmur from the streets. The very goldfish in the fountain
do not stir, and the long line of slaves against the marble wall, save
for their branded foreheads, might be gaunt caryatides hewn in Egyptian
wood or carved in ebony and amber. That gaudy tropic bird scarce ruffles
a feather. What is the difference between life and death? A voice, a
call, some sudden strange or familiar message on old paths, to the
consciousness that lies under that apparent unconsciousness, will waken
all these semblances of inanimation into new life of arms and fins and
wings. Let me try her thus! My grandfather was a pupil of Pythagoras
who had seen many such death-semblances among the peoples of the white
sacred mountains of far India. Ha! Akron beckons. I must follow him.

_Akron_

Enter yon doorway where the white figure lies resplendent with jewels
that gleam in the morning sun.

_Empedocles_

The arm drawn downward by the heavy golden bracelet is cold, yet soft
and yielding like a sleep. The face has the natural ease of slumber, and
not the rigid artificiality of death. 'Tis true there is no pulse, no
beat of heart nor stir of breath, yet neither is there the sombre
grotesqueness of the last pose. But the difference between life and
death is here so small that it is incommensurable, the point of the
mathematicians only. I shall hold this little hand in mine, and, with a
hand upon her forehead, call her by name; for, you know, Akron, one's
name has a power beyond every other word to reach the closed ears of the
imprisoned soul.

Pantheia! Pantheia! Pantheia! It is dawn. Your father calls you. Your
mother calls you. And I call you and command you. Open your eyes and
behold the sun!

_Akron_

A miracle, oh, Zeus! The eyelids tremble like flower-petals under the
wind of heaven. Was that a sigh or the swish of wings? Oh, wonder of
wonders! she breathes--she whispers!

_Pantheia_

Where am I? Is this death? Some one called my name. That is the pictured
ceiling of my own room. Surely that is Zaldu, my pet slave, with big
drops on her black face.... And father, mother, kneeling either side.
And who are you with rapt face and star-deep eyes, thick hair with
Delphic wreaths, and in purple gown and golden girdle? Are you a god?

_Empedocles_

Be tranquil, child, I am no god, only a physician come to heal you. You
have been ill and sleeping a long time.

_Pantheia_

Yes, I feel weakness, hunger, and thirst. I remember now that I was
well, when suddenly a strange thought came to me on my pillow. I
thought that I was dead. This took such possession of me that it shut
out every other thought, and being able to think only that one thought,
I must have been dead. It seemed but a moment's time when the spell of
the thought was broken by an alien deep voice from the void of nothing
about me, calling me by name, calling me to wake and see the day. With
that came floods of my own old thoughts, like molten streams from AEtna,
that were rigid as granite before the word was given that loosed them.

_Empedocles_

Did you not see new things or new lands or old dead faces, for you have
been gone a month? I am curious to know.

_Pantheia_

How passing strange! No, I saw neither darkness nor light. I heard no
sounds, nor was conscious of any silence. I must have had just the one
thought that I was dead, but I lost consciousness of that thought. I
remember saying good night to Zaldu, and I handed her the quaint doll
from Egypt and bade her care for it. Then the thought seized me, and I
knew no more. My thoughts which had always run so freely before, like
a plashing brook, must have suddenly frozen, as the amber-trader from
the Baltic told me one day the rivers do in his far northern home. Oh,
sir, are you going so soon?

_Empedocles_

Yes, child. You must take nourishment now, and talk no more. But I am
coming again to see you, for I have many earnest questions still to put
regarding this singular adventure.

_Akron_

Let me walk with you. I will close the great door. Already the gay
streets are silent, and the people crowd this way, whispering awe-struck
together of the deed of wonder you have done this day. You have called
back the dead to life, and they make obeisance to you as you pass, as if
you were in truth a son of the immortals. Your name will go down the
ages linked with the miracle of Pantheia. You are immortal.

_Empedocles_

Nay, 'tis not so strange as that, and yet 'tis stranger.

_Akron_

I would know your meaning better.

_Empedocles_

The power of a thought, that is the real wonder! We just begin to have
glimpses of the effects of the mind upon the body. To me, Akron, the
faculty has set too great store upon herbs and bitter drafts, and
cutting with the knife. I would fain have the soul acknowledged more,
our therapy built on the dual mechanism of mind and substance. For if an
idea can lead to the apparent death of the whole body, so might other
ideas bring about the apparent death of a part of the body, like, for
example, a paralysis of the members, or of the senses of sight, feeling,
hearing; and in truth I have seen such things. Or a thought might give
rise to a pain, or to a feeling of general illness, or to a feeling of
local disorder in some internal organ; and I feel sure I have likewise
met with such instances. And if an idea may produce such ailments, then
a contrary idea implanted by the physician may heal them. I believe
this to be the secret of many of the marvels we see at the temples and
shrines of AEsculapius and of the cures made by the touch of seers and
kings.

But this teaching goes much deeper and further. If we could in the
schools implant in our youth ideas which were strong enough, we should
be able to make of them all, each in proportion to his belief in himself
and his ambition, great men, great generals, thinkers, poets, a new race
of heroes in all lines of human endeavor, who should be able by their
united strength of idea and ideal finally to people the world with gods.

I have among my slaves, who work as vintners and olive-gatherers, a
physician of Thrace, as also a philosopher of the island of Rhodes, a
member of the Pythagorean League. These I bought not long ago from the
Etruscan pirates. Every evening I have them come to me on the roof after
the evening meal, and there under the quiet of the stars we discuss life
and death, the soul and immortality, and all the burning problems of
order, harmony, and number in the universe. What surprises me is that
this Thracian should be so in advance of the physicians of Hellas,
for he holds as I do that the mind should be first considered in the
treatment of most disorders of the body, because of its tremendous
power to force the healing processes, and because sometimes it
actually induces disease and death. And we have talked together of the
incalculable value of faith and enthusiasm so applied in the education
of the child, this new kind of gardening in the budding soul of mankind,
and of what new and august races might thereby come to repeople this
rather unsatisfactory globe.

I am minded to free these slaves, indeed all my slaves, and I have the
intention of devoting the most of a considerable fortune, both inherited
and amassed by me, to the spread of these doctrines and to the public
weal, particularly in the matter of planting in the souls of our youth,
not the mere ability to read and write Greek and do sums in arithmetic,
but the seeds of noble ideas that shall make this Trinacria of ours a
still more wonderful human garden than it has been as a granary for the
world's practical needs. From this sea-centre we send our freighted
galleys to Gades in the West, Carthage in the South, Tyre in the East,
and to the red-bearded foresters of the Far North. I would still send on
these same routes this food, but also better food than this, stuff that
should kindle and feed intellectual fires in all the remote places of
the earth.






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