Good people!This is the Play of EverychildWith Cho-ChoAs 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 worldIs something like me,A little grotesque,A little whimsical,Serious often,Sometimes all the more seriousSeen through a Fool's wordsWith cap and jingle of bells.In this droll worldThere are lots of childrenWho are the children of fools—Like me.Good people!I bespeak your patienceWith EverychildDaughter of a Clown.
Good people!This is the Play of EverychildWith Cho-ChoAs 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 worldIs something like me,A little grotesque,A little whimsical,Serious often,Sometimes all the more seriousSeen through a Fool's wordsWith cap and jingle of bells.In this droll worldThere are lots of childrenWho are the children of fools—Like me.Good people!I bespeak your patienceWith EverychildDaughter of a Clown.
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 sleepingOut in the darkWhere fireflies glimmerSpark upon spark.Some little strangerCome from afarUnder the gloryOf moon and of star.Deep in the blossomsThat drift as they fallSome one is sleepingAnd stirs not at all.Sleep, little stranger!The night is near gone;Sleep, little stranger,But dream of the dawn!
Some one is sleepingOut in the darkWhere fireflies glimmerSpark upon spark.
Some one is sleeping
Out in the dark
Where fireflies glimmer
Spark upon spark.
Some little strangerCome from afarUnder the gloryOf moon and of star.
Some little stranger
Come from afar
Under the glory
Of moon and of star.
Deep in the blossomsThat drift as they fallSome one is sleepingAnd stirs not at all.
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!
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 sunriseFlower-breath and dew,Travelling wider circlesOf blue beyond the blue,Seeking strength of spirit,Happiness and joy—Heritage decreed forEvery girl and boy.Music of the moonbeamsAnd the orchard rain,Music of the meadowsWaving with the grain,Mountains in the sunlight,Colors of the flowers,Trailing cloud and shadow—All of these are ours.We are of the sunriseFlower-breath and dew,Travelling wider circlesOf blue beyond the blue.
We are of the sunriseFlower-breath and dew,Travelling wider circlesOf blue beyond the blue,
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 forEvery girl and boy.
Seeking strength of spirit,
Happiness and joy—
Heritage decreed for
Every girl and boy.
Music of the moonbeamsAnd the orchard rain,Music of the meadowsWaving with the grain,
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.
Mountains in the sunlight,
Colors of the flowers,
Trailing cloud and shadow—
All of these are ours.
We are of the sunriseFlower-breath and dew,Travelling wider circlesOf blue beyond the blue.
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 dietherewhich is being bornhereand 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 theothers 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 onEverychild'shead)
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.
(Everychildstarts down along a path leading off the stage to the right—the music and singing continue through the whole scene.Cho-Choappears, right, for a moment and points her path to her saying: "This way, Everychild.")
(CURTAIN FALLS)
Curtainrises 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 bestill 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.Everychildcomes into the room with her rosy lamp. The three children sit up in bed and rub their eyes.Everychildglides 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 aboutpigs. 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 thanmine. 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 saysbeefwentupin the Eastern market four cents.
Jim
Steers down, beef up! Robbin' both ways.
(EnterBillieandTomwith 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? (MaryandJimlook 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.
(Jimhangs his head. A knock at the door.Jimrises and opens it.Cho-choenters 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.
(EnterEverychilddisguised 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! (Jimdoes 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 asRosierises 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 toMary,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(handingEverychilda comb and brush)
My hands are so full of work——
Everychild(arrangingRosie'shair)
Yes, that's better. Now, father, a glass of milk! (Jimgoes into kitchen.) And mother, open that bag, please.
(WhileMaryopens bag.Jimreturns with glass of milk, whichRosiedrinks.)
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!
(Everychildworks fast, slips the gown on the patient with the stockings and slippers, whileRosiesmiles 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.EverychildleadsRosieout to join them.BillieandTommove 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 afterRosieandEverychild.)
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 Boybegins 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 daythey'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-choappears, right, and says: "Here they come!"Everychildenters, 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-cholingers behind for a few moments and pronounces an epilogue.)
Not all here yet—But they must comeTo 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 gaythere—Sometimes—Sometimes—Butthatis a fool's Paradise—My old Kingdom—And I must lead them upTo this new landOf hope and joy.
Not all here yet—But they must comeTo 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 gaythere—Sometimes—Sometimes—Butthatis a fool's Paradise—My old Kingdom—And I must lead them upTo this new landOf hope and joy.
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 gaythere—
Sometimes—
Sometimes—
Butthatis a fool's Paradise—
My old Kingdom—
And I must lead them up
To this new land
Of hope and joy.
(CURTAIN FALLS)
Akron
Empedocles
Pantheia
[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 theaffairs 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 Phœnicia! 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 Æschylus when he was here. I was very young then, but I rememberrunning 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 thatapparent 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. Ithought 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 Ætna, 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 Æsculapius 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 beliefin 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 augustraces 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.