Feliciana—Thy father must be a terrible care, Don Rodriguez.
Rodriguez—He is not always easy to understand.
Feliciana—Thou dost not manage him right. Bring his Castilian nose nearer the earth. There are wholesome smells he is missing.
Pedro—(Shocked.) Feliciana!
Feliciana—Pedro, I'm going to dance, I feel I'm going to dance. Throw thy veil away. Beauty should never be hidden.
(Pedro throws the veil over the wall.)
Pedro—Feliciana!
(Pedro and Feliciana exeunt laughing.)
Lagrimas—(Shyly.) The little fellow is hurt.
Rodriguez—He is faint. Let me get some wine.
Tarik—(Sobbing.) I will not drink wine. It is forbidden.... I want my mother.... She will make me well.... I want my mother.
(Lagrimas and Rodriguez catch him as hefaints.)
Lagrimas—See, his eyes are open again.
Tarik—I am well. Let me stand alone.
Rodriguez—Thou art a brave lad despite thy brown skin.
(Enter soldier.)
Soldier—The General says the boy prisoner is to go with his mother.
(Tarik looks at Lagrimas, then stoops and kisses the hem of her dress.)
Tarik—Allah will bless thee, and thy little children. It is written. (Exit with soldier.)
(Lagrimas and Don Rodriguez sit as they were in the opening scene.)
Lagrimas—It is just as it was last night.
Rodriguez—(Quietly.) But I have captured Hafiz.
Lagrimas—And thou speakest neither of thy bravery nor thy—
Rodriguez—I am getting wisdom.
Lagrimas—Too much wisdom will make a monk of thee.
Rodriguez—(After a pause.) I think the stars will shine to-night.
Lagrimas—(Piqued.) Oh, dost thou?
Rodriguez—The air is blowing up a little sharp.
Lagrimas—Maria be adored, there is always the weather.
Rodriguez—Of what else shall I speak?
Lagrimas—Of thee and—oh anything!
(Silence. Guitars tinkle in the valley.)
Lagrimas—Dost hear the guitars?
Rodriguez—No.
Lagrimas—I can hear them plainly. The señor is a constant lover; she will yield to him soon.... What has stopped thine ears?
Rodriguez—The beating of my heart.
Lagrimas—A soldier's heart—(stops suddenly.)
Rodriguez—Hast thou lost something?
Lagrimas—It is no matter. I do not want it back.
(Looks fixedly at his coat until he fidgets.)
Rodriguez—Why dost thou stare? Is my coat—?
Lagrimas—What I lost, it has gone inside thy breast. I saw it.
Rodriguez—(Bewildered.) I—oh—what is it?
Lagrimas—My heart, most beautifully stupid, my heart!
Rodriguez—(Clasping her.) Lagrimas!
(CURTAIN)
THE TURTLE DOVE
A Chinese Play
Cast
The Turtle Dove
The play is acted in the Chinese manner, without stage setting. The back drop is painted to represent a Willow plate. Chorus is present at the left side of the stage throughout the action, to explain the story, announce the characters as they appear, and thank the audience for its interest. The Property Man, in a black costume, remains at the back of the stage. At various specified times, he hands the necessary properties to the several characters, from a small box beside him. When not occupied with stage work, he spends the time reading a Chinese paper, and smoking a pipe or cigarette.
All the persons in the play are in blue and white costumes, to make the plate picture. The Gong-Bearer may be in royal yellow, and Chorus in emerald green.
The Curtain is drawn slightly open, and the Gong-bearer appears, strikes the gong three times very slowly and ten times rapidly, then walks to the right side of the stage, and stands there throughout the play. Chorus appears between the parted curtains, holds up his left hand while the Gong-bearer strikes once, then addresses the audience in a very suave manner.
Chorus—Most illustrious friends, I deliver the three bows to Heaven, Earth, and Man, (bows ceremoniously to right, left, and centre) and obtrude myself on your exalted vision that you may know the meaning of our poor play. The story deals withthe always new love of youth for maid, the abrupt tempering of a father's wrath to forgiveness, and the immutability of Fate.
Our hero, Chang-sut-yen, (Chang-sut-yen appears between the curtains, bows to right, left and centre, then disappears behind the curtains) will come before you as a servant, but in reality he is none other than the son of Chang-won-yin, the Great, ruler of this province of Canton. (Gong-bearer strikes the gong.) The God of Fate decreed that he should be known as a turtle dove, and have his image forever emblazoned on the shining surface of a Willow plate. To avert this calamitous ending to his august life, Chang-sut-yen has fled the home of his father, and entered the service of a rich and powerful Mandarin, where he hopes, by virtue of his obscure position, to escape the notice of the God. But, as we have said, Fate is immutable, what the God plans must ever be, despite the efforts of puny man.
You will see the Mandarin, (Mandarin appears, bows, and disappears) rich, proud, majestic, with eyes for everything that may tend to make him more powerful, but superbly blind to virtue and worth in the humble.
Kwen-lin, his daughter (Kwen-lin appears, bows, and retires) is swayed by love alone; a dangerous practice usually, but in this story, one begging your approval. Do not judge her harshly, in that her heart leads her. Remember she is a woman. Much may be forgiven women.
(The Property Man appears, bows, and looks inquiringly at Chorus, who hesitates an instant, andthen, as if fulfilling a rather unpleasant duty, proceeds.) I would I might ignore the Property Man. He composed a version of this poetic tale, putting in all the ugly truths, and serenely forgetting all the possible flower like episodes. As artists we could not consider it. (Property Man with a slight shrug leaves stage.) The Property Man is not sufficiently large minded to accept our ripe and impartial opinion. He is superbly indifferent to the luminous fruit from his successful rival's quill, and will probably sulk through his duties. That you may not be disturbed by his presence, we have clothed him invisibly in black, and you will therefore be spared the pain of seeing him at all.
I fear I have kept you all too long from the feast prepared for your delectation. If my brothers behind the curtain show not that histrionic merit you so rightly demand, I pray you be lenient, and listen with ears, and see with eyes, not too critical. I conduct you at once to the moon-lit garden of the wealthy Mandarin, where Chang-sut-yen is loitering, hoping to meet there the Mandarin's beautiful daughter, Kwen-lin, who smiles on him. Is it not traditionally the fashion of women to adore most that youth who is forbidden?
I bow to you for your attentively honorable ears. I bow. I bow. (Gong-bearer strikes gong. Chorus walks to left of stage, and curtains are pulled apart, revealing Chang-sut-yen standing before the back drop.)
Chang-sut-yen—(Singing.)Bor lo un doy, bor lo un doy, chin lo, chin lo, bor lo un doy.Kwen-lin will know that song. It is nothing, itsays nothing, therefore it is pregnant with meaning, and my Bright Water-lily will understand. (Singing.)Bor lo un doy, bor lo un doy, chin lo, chin lo, bor lo un doy.She will come, dancing like sun-rays on the flowers of my mind, and I will press my honorable lips to hers, and our solemn breaths will mingle. Though I seem but a servant, I am Chang-sut-yen, son of Chang-won-yin, the Great, ruler of this province. (Gong-bearer strikes gong.) I am also the most glorious lover the Gods have made. My soul was fashioned from the wind of Heaven, and the purple fire of the mountain peak. My illustrious body is the sturdy tree to which maidens will ever sigh their timid love.
Chorus—It is the Mandarin who walks this way.
Chang-sut-yen—(Singing.)Bor lo un doy, bor lo un doy, chin lo, chin lo, bor lo un doy,—who comes? Alas, not Kwen-lin the fragrant, but my master. He will spit anger that I linger in the garden. I must summon my snake tongue to puzzle his cow-brain, lest he suspect I wait for her. I will divest myself of my honorable senses, and speak with an empty head. I will be gloriously fool possessed. (Singing.)Bor lo un doy, bor lo un doy, chin lo, chin lo, bor lo un doy.
(Enter Mandarin.)
Mandarin—The night is full of chill. If the God of Frost bites his sharp teeth into my fruit trees, they will perish. Br-r-r, cold!
Chang-sut-yen—(Clasping Mandarin in his arms.) August one, the white moon lady slumbers in the chamber of Heaven, while I wait for you tolight the path of my dreams.
Mandarin—Ancestors, save me!
Chang-sut-yen—We will make loud prayers to the tablets of our magnificently worthy ancestors after we embrace. Let me pluck you, and wear you across my heart, before your flower beauty fades.
Mandarin—(Recognizing him.) Miserable three footed dog, what maiden did you think to greet?
Chang-sut-yen—I press to my superb breast only your lily feet, honorable Cherry Blossom.
Mandarin—I am no Cherry Blossom.
Chang-sut-yen—You are all the Cherry Blossoms in the Garden of Earth, shedding perfume and petals with every sighing breeze.
Mandarin—I shed nothing but the light of Truth and Justice.
Chang-sut-yen—My heart cracks with love for you, and your tasks. At night when sleep seals the minds of other servants, I journey forth to count again your dazzling possessions. Your peach trees bend before me, and I am blinded. I beg to work for you until Death sews a black seam in my brain, and I go to my ancestors.
Mandarin—You have departed your unhappy wits. I give you to-morrow to offer gifts to the gods. Pursue sleep, and think not of my possessions, but rather of your venerable poverty. Your august brain is not large enough for Death to waste thread on. Thread is costly. Away with you, and rest.
Chang-sut-yen—May your golden finger nails grow, and grow, and grow, until they grasp all wealth and honor. (Singing.)Bor lo un doy, borlo un doy, chin lo, chin lo, bor lo un doy.
(Exit Chang, singing.)
Mandarin—He is a faithful dog, who begs but a kick to make him lick my hand. I have given him too many tasks. He is bereft of his toad mind. I dislike a man who sings as he works. Life does not plan it so.
Chorus—Kwen-lin, Bright Water-Lily, comes to meet her lover.
(Enter Kwen-lin, singing. Property Man hands her a branch of blossoms.)
Kwen-lin—(Singing.)Bor lo un doy, bor lo un doy, chin lo, chin lo, bor lo un doy.
Mandarin—The mad one croaked that. (Turns back and sings.)Bor lo un doy, bor lo un doy, chin lo,—
Kwen-lin—(Clasping him.) Supreme lover! The happy breezes dance when your voice is the lute.
Mandarin—My important ears to be so assailed! The world box collapses, and tumbles round me.
Kwen-lin—Noble father! I thought it was my—
Mandarin—Your?
Kwen-lin—My singing bird.
Mandarin—A Cherry Blossom, and a singing bird! An illustrious choice for a man of high position.
Kwen-lin—You sound very like a singing bird.
Mandarin—Something has broken in their heads. Spring has tangled the brain threads. It must be Spring!
Kwen-lin—It is Spring, and soon it will be superb Summer, then Fall, then Winter. The year gone pff! like that, and miserable life flower desolated.
Mandarin—Before the honorable year goes pff! like that, you will be an exalted wife.
Kwen-lin—A wife! I, a wife?
Mandarin—For seventeen years of moons, your nurses and teachers have polished you into a state of passable excellence. You are very wonderful as foolish little girls go. You are something of a somebody.
Kwen-lin—But to what impressive man are my charms to be presented?
Mandarin—(Looking at invisible garden.) This late frost will surely steal the jewels in my garden. The servant Chang must cover the iris. I can trust Chang.
Kwen-lin—You marry me to Chang-sut-yen?
Mandarin—Do I throw my child of five thousand and one delectable graces into the arms of a servant? I was speaking of my garden.
Kwen-lin—If I am to wed, let us speak of husbands.
Mandarin—Ah, many men have sought to wed you, but I have turned their eyes away, until the sublime one should ask.
Kwen-lin—To whom do I go?
Mandarin—To the greatest of all! To be dazzled, to be petted, to be surrounded by every superior luxury.
Kwen-lin—(Impatiently.) To whom do I go?
Mandarin—There is honor and eminence thealliance will give me, and money it will add to my already considerable store. We will not, as a matter of policy, show we are flattered. We will be proud, we will be haughty, we will drive a shrewd bargain when the wealthy Ta-yin of Canton would make you his bride.
Kwen-lin—The Ta-yin of Canton! I will not marry the Ta-yin of Canton!
Mandarin—What strange words do your lips produce? Does my daughter oppose her insect mind to mine?
Kwen-lin—I will not marry the Ta-yin of Canton. He's ugly, he's bold, he's yellow as—
Mandarin—Gold!
Kwen-lin—He shakes when he walks—
Mandarin—He's a—
Kwen-lin—Hundred years old! My heart would crack with grief were I to marry him.
Mandarin—I never yet heard that any maiden died of grief at the prospect of being a bride.
Kwen-lin—Br-r-r-r!
Mandarin—(Jumping.) What was that?
Kwen-lin—My heart cracking. Death is clutching for me.
Mandarin—(Wearily.) Go away, Death. Take her, if you must, after she is wed. The wealthy Ta-yin can better bear the sad expenses.
Kwen-lin—I'm dying now, dying, dying. It's quite delicious! (Lies down. Property Man puts a blue cushion under her head.) I'm almost dead!
Mandarin—You can't die like this. It's most absurd, besides being unbeautiful.
Kwen-lin—Have no fear, my death will bemagnificently beautiful. I have practiced many times, and know.
Mandarin—Get up, fox soul!
Kwen-lin—(Sitting up.) Have respect for my solemnly departing life. My heart will not throb longer. (Lies down.) I am dead!
Mandarin—(Prodding her with foot.) Get up, get up, get up! I must carry her! (Stoops, and puts arms under Kwen-lin.) Oh, for the strong muscles of my lusty young arms. We have fed her too well. She weighs many pounds. (Stands up, and claps hands. Chang-sut-yen enters.)
Chang-sut-yen—My serene mind presents itself to you, great master.
Mandarin—Sleep should be gathering up the ends of your serene mind, but it is as well. My daughter's honorable body has persuaded itself to seek its illustrious ancestors—
Chang-sut-yen—(Kneeling beside Kwen-lin.) Kwen-lin dead, dead! Then let the lady moon fall from the mighty loft of Heaven, and burn my life to ashes of wistaria!
Mandarin—Your overwhelming grief at my bereavement becomes a servant, but let not the pockets of your eyes fill with tears. Bear her to the house. She shall be whipped alive! (Kwen-lin shudders.) The sublime wasp shakes at that?
Chang-sut-yen—(Bending over Kwen-lin, and looking into her wide open eyes.) It was a death throe, exalted one.
Mandarin—Can your arms support her?
Chang-sut-yen—I lift a Cherry Blossom with more effort.
Mandarin—Speak not of Cherry Blossoms. Pick her up. (Chang starts to lift Kwen-lin.) No, no, that is not wise. How shall we do it?
Chang-sut-yen—(Craftily.) I can guard the crystal vase of her departed soul, while you go for help.
Mandarin—It had not penetrated my disturbed brain. I go for help.
(Exit Mandarin.)
Kwen-lin—(Sitting up.) Superb love mate!
Chang-sut-yen—(Hurriedly.) Augustly enter the world of the venerable dead again, luscious one, your honorable father looks this way.
Kwen-lin—(Lying down.) Do your eyes grow pearls that I am with my ancestors?
Chang-sut-yen—The love butterflies are winging in the happy recesses of my heart. My breath will smother me with joy.
Kwen-lin—(Sitting up.) Joy, when my father is going to marry me to the Ta-yin of Canton?
Chang-sut-yen—Exalted joy, because before that can happen my father will have the Ta-yin beheaded.
Kwen-lin—An orphan has no father.
Chang-sut-yen—I have a celestial now and then father, who does these necessary but disagreeable things. I think he will dispose of the wealthy Ta-yin if I ask him.
Kwen-lin—It must be a wonderful convenience. We will make a list of all those superbly annoying persons we do not like, and have your celestial now and then father, behead them.
Chang-sut-yen—We will ponder it, BrightWater-lily, when we are not serenely happy.
Kwen-lin—I do not like being whipped alive! My teeth chatter when I think of it, and I can't be happy.
Chang-sut-yen—A base whip to touch you! Nay, my lips shall make you live. (Kisses her.) I am gloriously versed in lip magic. (Kisses her again.)
Kwen-lin—Let us fly on our illustrious legs, and be married with the six ceremonies, before my father returns. I like that lip magic. It makes singing here.
(Kwen-lin touches heart. She and Chang-sut-yen exeunt. The Property Man looks around the stage slowly, glances in the property box, then saunters casually off.)
(CURTAIN)
Chorus—I bow.
(Chorus leaves stage followed by Gong-bearer.)
Scene II
(Chorus again appears before the closed curtains, and raises his left hand, while the Gong-bearer, who has walked to his original position at the right side of the stage strikes the Gong once.)
Chorus—Many perfumed months have passed since Chang-sut-yen wedded Kwen-lin, and each has added a white hibiscus blossom to the garland of life. But now bitter winter comes, snow is on the paeony hill, the hosts of evil are abroad. The Mandarin, with never ending rage, has spent the months searching throughout the Empire to discovertheir dwelling place. Now he has learned where it is, and pursues Chang-sut-yen with a death dealing thong, which he will wield with dire results. It is the pleasure of the illustrious author that the villain act in a supremely unpleasant manner, in order to bring out the tenderness of the play. Our lovers, not knowing this is a comedy, (and therefore must conclude with smiles and feasting), are overwhelmed with fear. I beg you not to share this fear, except inasmuch as it may make the after enjoyment of the happy ending more piquant and superbly satisfying.
I bow to you, and conduct you to the home of Chang-sut-yen, and Kwen-lin, his wife.
(Gong-bearer strikes gong. Chorus walks to his place at the left of stage. The Curtains are drawn apart, and reveal Chang-sut-yen, and Kwen-lin. The Property Man is at the back of the stage, as before.)
Kwen-lin—Is my august father yet stamping on the road? Peep out of the door, heroic one, and show but part of one eye, lest the radiance from both light the world like stars, and he swoop upon us.
Chang-sut-yen—(Looking out of imaginary doorway.) I see not his angry body.
Kwen-lin—I would not face him here. Let us go outside, and sit neath the eaves of the pagoda. He may miss our presence, and leave without shattering this temple of our love dreams.
(Property Man opens invisible door, they descend two steps and sit down, and Property Man closes the door.)
Chang-sut-yen—Little humming bird, yourheart wings beat wildly against my solemn breast.
Kwen-lin—His fiery breath will wither our blood. Feel how it scorches the grey veil of night. He is coming to consume us, he is coming to consume us! I fear his terrible rage.
Chang-sut-yen—Nay, tremble not, for I, your lover, shelter you in my heart.
Chorus—The Mandarin comes.
Kwen-lin—(Sadly.) The wine cup is drained, the love songs all are silenced.
(Enter Mandarin.)
Mandarin—Base thief and destroyer, at last I have found the hole in which you hide!
Chang-sut-yen—A lover seeks only food for his love. If he destroys or thieves what matter? Love is first.
Mandarin—My tongue sends flame into your viper soul. Go to your ancestors, they beckon you.
Kwen-lin—Let us escape across the bridge!
(Property Man holds bamboo stick horizontally for bridge.)
Chang-sut-yen—Why should we flee?
Kwen-lin—Why should we perish? To the bridge! We will outrun him.
(They run onto bridge.)
Chang-sut-yen—(Grasping bamboo.) The bridge shakes. Its ribs are rotten. We will fall into the water.
Kwen-lin—(Off stage.) I fall, I drown!
Chang-sut-yen—Bright Water-lily, float upon the water's face.
Mandarin—I pull down your star from Heaven's dome.
Chang-sut-yen—My star dropped to Earth, when the light of hers failed.
(Property Man hands whip to Mandarin.)
Mandarin—I strike with my exalted whip. By the God of Fate, you die!
(Strikes Chang with whip. Chang falls. Gong-bearer strikes gong. The God of Fate, wearing grotesque mask, enters.)
Fate—Who calls me to the world of men?
Mandarin—What unknown fear are you?
Fate—I am the God of Fate.
Mandarin—I have sent a dog to death. (Stoops and takes a small red bag from Chang's breast.)
Fate—Chang-sut-yen is mine! He must not die.
Mandarin—My exulting mind does not record your meaning.
Fate—(Stooping over Chang, and putting the red bag back.) Chang-sut-yen, son of Chang-won-yin, the Great, I give you back your heart! (Gong-bearer strikes gong.)
Mandarin—Chang-sut-yen, son of Heaven! I bow in the dust three times. (Prostrates himself.)
Fate—(To Chang.) Arise, and continue your exalted life.
Chang-sut-yen—(Rising.) My path is lost in crookedness until I join her. Let me go.
Fate—The gods have not yet dried the ink on the pages of your book of life. You must live, to live upon a Willow plate.
Chang-sut-yen—And be broken by the heavy hand of august Time, and unkind Chance. (Property Man hands knife to Chang.) With this frosty blade, I cut the circle of life, and press my lips tothe jade cup of nothingness. I am a lover bereft of my mate.
Fate—You must live! (Touches Chang's arm with staff. The knife falls to the ground. Property Man picks it up, and puts it back in the property box.)
Chang-sut-yen—Kwen-lin, I leap across the river of Heaven to your arms!
Fate—She is not dead. She dreams, and smiles upon the bosom of the water.
(To Kwen-lin.) Awake! Awake!
(Kwen-lin enters, and goes to Chang.)
Fate—Your sublime father, Chang-won-yin, has gone to his ancestors. You are Chang-sut-yen, the Great, ruler of this province.
(Gong-bearer strikes gong.)
Chang-sut-yen—I renounce my rule. I am a lover, not a ruler.
Fate—You are a turtle dove. (To Mandarin.) To your home, and set forth majestic feasting. Chang-sut-yen will honor your house. He rules.
Chang-sut-yen—I rule not. I am a lover.
Kwen-lin—Exalted one, a lover is a turtle dove.
Fate—It is sometimes given to women to know the truth. Thus Fate is fulfilled, and Chang-sut-yen, the turtle dove, will live upon a Willow plate.
(Gong-bearer strikes the gong twice.)
(CURTAIN)
Chorus—For your eager ears, for your shining eyes, for your smiling faces, I bow, I bow, I bow.
(Chorus followed by the Gong-bearer goes behind the curtains.)
THIS YOUTH—GENTLEMEN!
A Fantasy
Cast
This Youth—Gentlemen!
Scene I—A narrow lane sharply ascending the hill-side. In the distance a lake shimmers in the sunlight. As the curtain rises the BOY is discovered sitting on a huge boulder. He curiously watches the approaching MAN.
Man—The road is narrow.
Boy—(Curtly.) I like it so.
Man—I have followed you from the valley.
Boy—(Moving aside.) I'll follow you up the hill.
Man—(Smiling.) I may wait here.
Boy—I may play. (He throws a stone across the waters, and laughs as it strikes the surface.)
Man—(Sharply.) Now! You have disturbed the frogs and hidden green things!
Boy—A ripple on the waters! It's the smile that quick adorns my lady's face when I tell.... A little ripple—it whispers of spring and youth to the hidden green things. I am glad I flung the stone!
Man—Youth! A braggart word employed by fools and poets who have not lived.
Boy—Youth! A magic word, the talisman of those who seek the promised land!
Man—(Slowly.) I seek the world of yesterday!
Boy—We left it ... yesterday. Your road lies back in the valley.
Man—I carry a chart in my breast, it marks the place where yesterday stands. This lane leads there.
Boy—It leads to the land of promise.
Man—I carry a chart in my breast....
Boy—Your chart, it lies! I'm going on; follow if you like.
Man—What shall you, who have not lived, do when we reach the world of yesterday?
Boy—Show you my land of promise.
Man—Then haste!
Boy—Never fear. My feet are swift.
Scene II—A ledge between a deep ravine and the mountain. Night.
Man—Dear lad, let us rest here.
Boy—(Laughing.) This is the edge of the world.
Man—Sit not too near, I beg you.
Boy—I'll dangle my legs over the cliff, and watch the shadow of the devil diminish.
Man—(Lying wearily on the ground.) To flutter like a feather from the wing of a soaring eagle—to lie unseen and forgotten among the dead leaves of the forest.
Boy—Come, and see the shadow.
Man—I feel it on my heart.
Boy—The devil made that chart you boast about!
Man—And locked it in my breast.
Boy—It has taken away your peace.
Man—Peace! To hear that name on all men's lips, to search and search and never know its habitation.
Boy—They say: He that pursueth, never shall overtake!
Man—(To himself.) Desires die, ideals are forgotten, love passes away. The mantel of eternal snow envelops all men, what shall escape?
Boy—Youth!
Man—Which knows not life.
Boy—Must one experience to know?... Do I not feel?
Man—In all these days we have been together, what have you felt for me?
Boy—That you sowed wisely, but knew not how to garner. You speak of ideals lost—
Man—I am not sure I ever had them.
Boy—Is it work or play, love or life, your ideal of yesterday?
Man—Yesterday! Did it ever exist?
Boy—It died the night of its birth, and vanished in rose smoke, making incense to the gods who once reigned.
Man—Who told you all this?
Boy—My lady—in the twilight.
Man—Your lady?
Boy—She sent me to find the promised land. She will come when I am there. My heart is strong, and I can wait for her.
Man—My heart was strong and passionate; it pulses no longer like a man's, but serves to beat out the unconsidered tickings of the ashen days.
Boy—Then sit with me, be a child, and laugh at the shadow. So faith may come again.
Man—The day is breaking.
Boy—(Whimsically.) Alas, the shadow's gone,and you have not seen it! Look yonder at the little stream, it leaps like a white flame down the grey old rocks.
(They peer over the cliff together.)
Man—I smell the living earth.
Boy—I want to climb the mountain side. Who knows what treasures may be there?
Man—(Slowly.) I know the place—the place above.
Boy—Have you been there?
Man—No.... I dreamed and thought to reach it once, but lost the way.
(They climb together.)
Boy—Why do you laugh?
Man—My blood has turned to flame. I feel it burning in my body.
Boy—The morning sun is in your veins. I know.... What do you see?
Man—(Whispering.) Your land of promise!
Boy—It is not so! My land of promise is more beautiful than anything one may imagine!
Man—This is more beautiful.
Boy—I would know if this were it.
Man—This is the land I say. Laugh with me and shout. The shadow of the devil has gone. I have found the place and myself.
Boy—Not so! The place is farther off, and higher. I am not content with this!
Man—Come with me, youth, to the summit!
Boy—(Eagerly.) I'll climb with you.... I'll climb ... to the summit!
(CURTAIN)
THE STRIKER
Cast
The Striker
Scene—A dining room in a workman's home. Plain but scrupulously neat and clean. Door L leads to kitchen. Door R leads to front door. Mrs. Quinn is seated at centre table darning socks and talking to her neighbor, Mrs. Martin.
Mrs. Martin—(Dropping a few pennies into a purse, and shutting it with a snap.) Seven weeks, and not one cent coming in. I don't know how we'll live, if it keeps up much longer.
Mrs. Quinn—A strike's a bitter thing Mrs. Martin, and no one knowin' how it will end.
Mrs. Martin—Why can't they talk it out? It seems to me if the motormen and conductors sent a committee to the company, they might arrive at an understanding.
Mrs. Quinn—But the company don't take stock in the Union, and a committee of men would be a Union committee, or nothin'.
Mrs. Martin—Let them arbitrate, I say, let them arbitrate.
Mrs. Quinn—It's a nice soundin' word, is arbitrate, but no one wants to do it, save them as ain't interested. A man hits with his fist first, and arbitrates afterwards,—in the police court.
Mrs. Martin—Men are queer creatures. There's my Bill, a more religious man never walked, if I do say it myself, and yet he's as bitter as poison against the company.
Mrs. Quinn—Religion don't always kill bitterness—
Mrs. Martin—This morning I wakened up before five o'clock, and he wasn't in bed. I went down stairs to see what had happened, and found him sneaking in the back gate like a thief. Heaven only knows what he was doing outside at that time in the morning. Mischief, I'll bet.
Mrs. Quinn—Aye, it was mischief, and my old man in it too. I got it out of John when he came back. They had been out before the dawn, pryin' up trolley tracks with a crow-bar.
Mrs Martin—A fine mess if they'd been caught.
Mrs. Quinn—Locked up, that's what would have happened, nice pair of old fools that they are!
Mrs. Martin—It must be devilish though, to have strike breakers come in and run the cars, while the men are sticking out for a principle.
Mrs. Quinn—A principle's a fine excuse now and then, for a bunch of men to fight behind.
Mrs. Martin—But this is a principle worth fighting for.
Mrs. Quinn—Maybe it is.
Mrs. Martin—I wish you'd go to the lectures at the Lyceum with me. You'd understand things better. My, I miss your Molly. We heard so many wonderful men talk, and she was so quick getting their ideas, it was just great to be with her.
Mrs. Quinn—Well, you know, she'dtellme about them when she got home. I remember that first man who talked of the virtue of humility and self-sacrifice. Molly was that full of onselfishness after hearin' him, that she almost gave her job toJennie Tubbs, thinkin'sheneeded the money more than we did.
Mrs. Martin—That was Prof. William Mason. He was a noble character.
Mrs. Quinn—Aye, but he didn't last. He was followed by the moral uplifter one. Sure, we lived on pins and needles then! After him we had a course in sanitation, and pure food, and how to feed a fam'ly of six on $4.00 a week. Oh, them last was wonderful fairy tales. The meals that woman could manufacture out of an old ham bone! It was past belief.
Mrs. Martin—I tried a few of her receipts, but Bill wouldn't eat the things I made. He said he wasn't a horse yet.
Mrs. Quinn—Aw, she was a joker, I'm thinkin', put in the pack to lighten the others up a bit. Lectures is an easy way of gettin' scraps of learnin', but it's done neither of ye lastin' hurt that I can see.
Mrs. Martin—I heard the walking delegate talk this afternoon. The men got pretty excited listening to him. He told them their rights, and it'll be a wonder to me, if they don't do a good bit of damage to the Company's property before this thing ends.
Mrs. Quinn—The walkin' delegate's a smart lad, from all I hear.
Mrs. Martin—He's smart enough to get paid for the work he does.
Mrs. Quinn—He gets paid for startin' strikes, is it?
Mrs. Martin—He goes all over the countrytelling the men when to strike, and what to strike for. He gets paid for that.
Mrs. Quinn—But the men don't get paid for strikin'.
Mrs. Martin—That's a silly idea, Mrs. Quinn.
Mrs. Quinn—You can have it for what it's worth. Molly used to say I had more ideas than a dog has fleas, but I fancy she was just slatherin' me over with the blarney.
Mrs. Martin—Well, I believe the walking delegate's right. The men must fight this out to a finish.
Mrs. Quinn—It's likely to be our finish, alright, alright.
Mrs. Martin—(Unconsciously imitating the delegate.) It's not only for ourselves, but for our children that the war must be waged.
Mrs. Quinn—Our children! Sure, it shouldn't be a bequeathment job, this trolley business.
Mrs. Martin—He says our children will be saved a fight for their rights, if we conquer now.
Mrs. Quinn—Whist darlin', our children will have their own notion of rights and fights by the time they grow up. They can blow on their own broth when it bubbles over.
Mrs. Martin—But the noble way is to consider the ones who come after us.
Mrs. Quinn—Maybe that's so, me dear Mrs. Martin, but I'm after lookin' out for the man of to-day. The better off we are, the better off our kids'll be.
Mrs. Martin—The walking delegate says that's a very selfish way of looking at it.
Mrs. Quinn—The walkin' delegate's got the fine words in his mouth.
(Silence.)
Mrs. Martin—Have you heard from Molly lately?
Mrs. Quinn—Poor darlin', I got a letter from her this mornin'. She's comin' home.
Mrs. Martin—Does Mr. Quinn know?
Mrs. Quinn—I'll have it out with him to-night.
Mrs. Martin—He's a pretty stubborn man.
Mrs. Quinn—I'll bring him around, never fear.
Mrs. Martin—I think you're a wonderful woman, the way you manage him, Mrs. Quinn.
Mrs. Quinn—Sure it's just me knowledge of that, keeps me goin'. When I lose conceit of meself, I'll be fit for no place but—Heaven.
Mrs. Martin—(Listens, with finger uplifted.) Sh! That's Bill slamming the back gate. I'll go put the kettle on. A cup of hot tea soon takes all the ugly kinks out of him.
Mrs. Quinn—It's an upliftin' beverage, is tea. It does miracles for my old man, when he has his back up.
Mrs. Martin—(Going to door L. then hesitating.) I'm not a specially religious woman, Mrs. Quinn, and I've never heard you say much about it, but I think now that everything else has failed and the strike seems no nearer an end, we might as well take it to God in prayer. As Bill says, we've tried every other way.
Mrs. Quinn—(Slowly.) Well, I guess Gawd's used to bein' the last on the list, so I'll join ye in yer prayers, Mrs. Martin. Good-night to ye.
(Exit Mrs Martin door L.)
(Mrs. Quinn pulls down the blind and fusses about the room. There is a sharp bang on the front door. She leaves room R. and returns with the evening paper. Looks out the window again, raising the blind ever so little, then sits at table, and opens the paper.)
Mrs. Quinn—(Reads—then.) Nothin' but strike, strike, strike, wherever ye look. A few cents an hour more, a few hours a week less, what a little to fight for, and yet they won't get it, they won't get it.
(Quinn enters door L. Hangs hat and coat on rack near kitchen door. Sits in chair at side of table, and is noticeably nervous.)
Quinn—(After a pause, during which they both steal furtive glances at one another.) Well?
Mrs. Quinn—I see yer home again. Anything doin'?
Quinn—Nothin'.
Mrs. Quinn—(Tartly.) Well, it's a fine husky way for a man to be makin' a livin' for his wife, throwin' up his good job as a motorman, and walkin' the streets.
Quinn—(Moodily.) Good job,—hell!
Mrs. Quinn—I don't see what way ye'll pay for shoe leather, if ye don't get some money soon.
Quinn—We'll live. The Union won't see us go under for the lack of a dollar or two.
Mrs. Quinn—I don't like livin' on the Union.
Quinn—We ain't beggars yet.
Mrs. Quinn—We're not far from it, Gawd knows.
(Picks up paper, and again reads. A pause.)
Quinn—(Irritably.) Can't ye stop rattlin' that paper?
(Mrs. Quinn glances at him casually, and calmly proceeds with her reading. It is the sort of calm that arouses temper in a jumpy person.)
Quinn—(Springing up.) Stop that infernal noise! Seems like a man might have peace in his own house. Here I am walkin' the streets all day, with me legs and head that tired I'm ready to drop, and when I get home at night, a clatter that would wake the dead, in me ears.
Mrs. Quinn—Yer blood may be Irish, John Quinn, but yer nerves are American.... I never saw such a changed man in me life. It's bad enough to have ye walk out on strike—
Quinn—Now see here, I didn't walk out on strike, and ye know it. I'd be workin' yet if the Union hadn't told us to lay off until we got our rights.
Mrs. Quinn—Ye'll rot before ye get yer rights, I'm thinkin'.
Quinn—Maybe, maybe so.
(Silence again.)
Mrs. Quinn—(Putting down paper.) I see the walking delegate discussed the strike at an elegant banquet at the Hotel Hoffman last night. Ye know,hedon't seem to suffer no privation. Mrs. Martin says he gets a princely wage for orderin' strikes all over the country. No wonder he's in earnest about his job.
Quinn—Some one has to lead the men.
Mrs. Quinn—I fancy he wouldn't lead far, ifhis wage stopped.
Quinn—(Shortly.) Aw, don't be a fool.
(Silence again. Quinn moves uneasily in his chair.)
Mrs. Quinn—What's on yer mind? Can't ye sit still?
Quinn—What should be on me mind?
Mrs. Quinn—I haven't lived with ye five and twenty years without knowin' when ye've done somethin' ye're ashamed of.
Quinn—I've done nothin' I'm ashamed of.
Mrs. Quinn—Out with it.
Quinn—(After a slight hesitation.) I walked down town to-night to see the sights. Bill Martin went with me.
Mrs. Quinn—(Content to get her knowledge by Quinn's roundabout way of telling it.) Were the streets crowded?
Quinn—Nothin' like they are up here.... D'ye know they have the State Constabulary on the Avenue now?
Mrs. Quinn—I saw them this mornin'. Big hulkin' brutes they are, chargin' into groups of women and children like as if they were offenders agin the law.
Quinn—It's makin' the men see red.
Mrs. Quinn—If the men are wise, they'll give them a wide berth, and not start any ructions, or they'll get smashed heads for their pains.
Quinn—Well, we can smash heads, too.
Mrs. Quinn—And be put in the lock-up for it.
Quinn—Am I in the lock-up?
Mrs. Quinn—(Quickly.) Whose head haveyousmashed John?
Quinn—To-night while we stood at the corner of Fourth and Marion, a trolley came along with passengers in it, a woman and two men.
Mrs. Quinn—John, ye didn't—
Quinn—The dirty scab who ran the car must have come from New York with that last bunch of strike breakers.
Mrs. Quinn—What did ye do?
Quinn—(Defiantly.) I picked up a brick, and let it fly through the window. Maybe the company can starve us, but we'll teach the public it's a damned unsafe thing to ride in the cars, while we're bein' starved.
Mrs. Quinn—Did ye do any hurt?
Quinn—Well, I guess I damaged the woman's arm, if ye want to know. She let out a yell ye could hear a mile, and flopped over. Then I took to me heels.
Mrs. Quinn—(In a rage.) Ye fool, have ye quite quit yer senses? Ye'll be caught and locked up fer this.
Quinn—(Glad that he has gotten the story out.) Not much.
Mrs. Quinn—Yer temper'll do fer ye, one of these days, me man. I suppose that's what ye call seem' red? Seein' red! Gawd'll get ye by the scruff of the neck when yer not lookin', and shake the ugly devil of a temper out of ye. Ye'll face the consequence for it, sooner or later.
Quinn—Aw, stop yer blather, and get me a cup of tea.
Mrs. Quinn—Tea! I'm tempted to put a pinkbean in it, and make ye croak before the gallows gets ye, ye ruffian.
(There is a knock at the front door. Mrs. Quinn exits R. and returns with the Martins.)
Quinn—Hello Martin, what's up now?
Martin—Have ye seen the papers?
Quinn—No.
Martin—It's in them already.
Quinn—What's in them?
Martin—Listen, (reads) "Just at dusk this evening a mob of strikers attacked a west bound car at Fourth and Marion Streets, and did considerable damage to the car and occupants. The only woman passenger was seriously injured in the right hand and arm, and was taken to the Lester Hospital, where"—
Quinn—(Interrupting.) Do they know who done it?
Martin—(Reads.) "No clue to the man has been found, but Chief of Police"—
Quinn—(Shortly.) Aw, cut it, Martin. They'll never find the man who did it, unless your tongue wags. I'd like to break the arms of ev'ry one who runs or rides in the cars till we win our fight.
Martin—(Somberly.) Maybe the only wayisto do a little damage, break a few bones, show them we've got some spunk ... and yet it is written if a man smite thee on the right cheek—
Mrs.Quinn—I thought the plan this time was to keep the confidence of the people?
Quinn—We've tried that for seven weeks, and it's taken us nowheres.
Mrs. Martin—We've tried most everything I guess, but prayer. Maybe we'd do more if we prayed over it.
Quinn—(Slowly.) Do ye say pray over it?
Martin—(Diffidently.) If we could all get together on it. I know it's hard to talk religion to the boys, they all think different about it. It takes some courage for a man to come out and say he's a Christian, but I'm willing to do it. Think—if all the men and women and children would pray for a settlement, it would have some weight with the Lord.
Mrs. Martin—(Eagerly.) He'd give an answer, I know. I heard a minister say once, if we'd ask foranythingwith all our hearts and souls the Lord wouldn't deny us.
Mrs. Quinn—What a mix-up we'd have then!
Quinn—Well, I've not much use for prayers when there's a fight on—but if ye—
Mrs. Quinn—Ye know, I had a mad sort of a dream tother night.
Quinn—(Impatiently.) Whist woman, with yer dreams!
Mrs. Quinn—(Undeterred.) I dreamed I was after havin' a nice easy talk with Gawd, and he sez to me, "Mary Ann Quinn, I want ye to sit up here with me in Heaven on me right hand side. For sure," sez he, pleasant like, "you'venever pestered me with requests since ye've been a woman grown." "Well Gawd," sez I, "I've been that mortal busy tendin' to the bodily comforts of me man John, and me daughter Molly, that I've had me mind fair occupied, and I apologize for not comin' to yeoftener." "Oh, Mary Ann," sez he, "can't ye see I like it? I'm fair sick of havin' to stand sponsor for all the mistakes of me numberless Christian children. They go along in their headstrong ways doin' the things theywantto do, right or wrong, and when they run amuck, they up and come tomewith prayers and supplications, cryin' and pleadin' for help, when a slight use of their own wits and decency and common sense would have kept them from difficulties in the first place."
"Oh, Gawd," begins I, but he smiles at me and sez he, "get up wid ye on me right hand side, and keep that grin on yer face Mary Ann Quinn, while I tend to me regular customers."
Quinn—(Shocked.) I can't help ye bein' heathenish in yer views, but I'll not have ye outspoken voicin' them.
Martin—(Puzzled.) It was a very odd dream to have.
Mrs. Martin—It certainly was.
Mrs. Quinn—The meanin' of it's mortal clear, I'm thinkin'. But, that's not gettin' the tea, is it?
(Exit to kitchen L.)
Quinn—Martin, I don't know about yer prayers, but fer meself I'm in this fight till the finish, and man nor devil'll make me yield an inch.
Martin—Then I'm with you, Quinn. (To Mrs. Martin, who goes to him protestingly.) No, Bessie, its no use. We canprayafter we've won.
(Molly enters door R. She is in hat and coat, and carries a muff.)
Mrs. Martin—Molly!
(Molly does not answer, but stands and looksat Quinn.)
Martin—(Taking Mrs Martin by the arm, and going to door R.) I guess you'd rather be alone with her.
(Exeunt Martins door R.)
Molly—Father.
(Quinn rises and looks at her, but does not speak.)
Molly—Father.