Part Four
“Our Own Day”
[The Chronicler rises in light.]
The Chronicler
Death that takes Lincoln spares him the disillusion and the time of waste that comes after him. The face of Freedom is covered and she turns her gaze away from the land.
The Choir
(Fortissimo)
Allons! Through struggles and wars!The goal that was named cannot be countermanded.
Four Voices
We found our own, O my Soul, in the calm and cool of the daybreak.
[The beginnings of light upon the scene show Freedom weeping upon her balustrade, alone on the stair between the two halves of the Choir.In the distance the Chorus begins to sing that great chantey of American labor, “I’ve been working on the Railroad.”At the back of the stage, just below the beginning of the stair, is a pathway of light into which, from either side of the scene, come single lines of men who bear upon their shoulders rails and ties. Across the stage they build the transcontinental railroad, forming sculptural and beautiful groups as they bend over the joints of the rails and swing their sledges. When the task is completed, the headlights of engines shine along the lines.Whereupon two wedges of laborers emerge from the sides of the scene, lower down on the incline of the stage and stand in pools of flame. That on the right is the group of steel workers. That on the left is the group of coal miners.Whereupon, still lower down stage, two other wedges emerge, similarly dressed and lighted. They are the groups of farmers and of builders. Whereupon the forestage is filled with women and children of a most sorrowful and wretched aspect and with little old men, poorly dressed and meek of manner.All of this movement has been executed to the great march of labor which is built upon the theme of “I’ve been working on the Railroad.” The band has taken it up from the Chorus and woven it into a minor dirge and into bizarre dissonances and elaborated it with syncopations and new themes played upon strange instruments and sung by the voices of the Chorus so that the whole thing is at once triumphal and macabre. It rises to magnificent climaxes and subsides again so that the speakers, the crowds, the Choir and the Spokesmen may be clearly audible.At the same time the Spokesmen and the Choir speak antiphonally against the action and complete the prophecy of Walt Whitman.]
[The beginnings of light upon the scene show Freedom weeping upon her balustrade, alone on the stair between the two halves of the Choir.
In the distance the Chorus begins to sing that great chantey of American labor, “I’ve been working on the Railroad.”
At the back of the stage, just below the beginning of the stair, is a pathway of light into which, from either side of the scene, come single lines of men who bear upon their shoulders rails and ties. Across the stage they build the transcontinental railroad, forming sculptural and beautiful groups as they bend over the joints of the rails and swing their sledges. When the task is completed, the headlights of engines shine along the lines.
Whereupon two wedges of laborers emerge from the sides of the scene, lower down on the incline of the stage and stand in pools of flame. That on the right is the group of steel workers. That on the left is the group of coal miners.
Whereupon, still lower down stage, two other wedges emerge, similarly dressed and lighted. They are the groups of farmers and of builders. Whereupon the forestage is filled with women and children of a most sorrowful and wretched aspect and with little old men, poorly dressed and meek of manner.
All of this movement has been executed to the great march of labor which is built upon the theme of “I’ve been working on the Railroad.” The band has taken it up from the Chorus and woven it into a minor dirge and into bizarre dissonances and elaborated it with syncopations and new themes played upon strange instruments and sung by the voices of the Chorus so that the whole thing is at once triumphal and macabre. It rises to magnificent climaxes and subsides again so that the speakers, the crowds, the Choir and the Spokesmen may be clearly audible.
At the same time the Spokesmen and the Choir speak antiphonally against the action and complete the prophecy of Walt Whitman.]
Eight Voices
The shapes arise!
The First Spokesman
Shapes of factories, arsenals, foundries, markets!
The Second Spokesman
Shapes of the two threaded tracks of railroads!
The First Spokesman
Shapes of the sleepers of bridges, vast frameworks, girders, arches!
The Second Spokesman
Shapes of the fleets of barges, tows, lake and canal craft, river craft!
The First Spokesman
Shipyards and drydocks along the eastern and western seas and in many a bay and by-place!
The Second Spokesman
The ships themselves on their ways, the tiers of scaffolds, the workmen.
The First Spokesman
The shape of the family home, the home of the friendly parents and children.
Full Choir
The shapes arise!
Four Voices
Shapes of Democracy, total, result of centuries!
Eight Voices
Shapes ever projecting other shapes!
Twelve Voices
Shapes of turbulent manly cities!
Twenty Voices
Shapes of friends and home givers to the whole earth!
Full Choir
Shapes bracing the earth and braced with the whole earth!
Four Voices
In the labor of engines and trades and the labor of fields I find the developmentsAnd find the eternal meanings....
The Railroad Builders
O Freedom, in your name,We have built a railroad across a continentAnd linked the east and the west with strips of steel;We have worked, Freedom, for the empire which is yours,For that which is not yours is nothing.
[Freedom lifts her head and listens.]
[Freedom lifts her head and listens.]
The Steel Workers
Steel! Steel! Steel!Flame and smoke and blood!We have pounded with our fists, Freedom,And forged with our hearts,And our bodies have fed the furnaces,That your empire, Freedom, might endure in steelOver the land and upon the seas.
[Freedom listens still but gives no sign.]
[Freedom listens still but gives no sign.]
The Coal Miners
Though we died in the depths of the earth, we have given coal, Freedom, in your name.Though we had many masters, we owned no rule but yours,For that is vain which is not done for Freedom.
The Farmers
In your name, Freedom,We have cleared forests and made deserts bloomAnd covered the states with corn and wheat and herds,And suffered droughts and storms, Freedom,That yours might be a great empire.
The Builders
Freedom, we have built the fences of your farmers and the roofs of your cities,We have made machines of your empire, Freedom, and we have built our lives into its structure,For you, Freedom, only for you.
The Women and Children
We have given, Freedom, in your hands, our youth and our health and our beautyIn the fields, and the factories of your empire, Freedom, we have given all that we had to give,Holding always to our faith in you.
The Meek Men
Durably, without complaint, day after day,We have filled the little tasks of your empire, Freedom,Performed little duties and earned little wages,Without complaining, without understanding,Save that we worked in your name.
The Whole Crowd
Reward us, Freedom!
The Choir
Workmen and Workwomen!I do not affirm that what you see beyond is futile ...I do not say leading you, thought great are not great ...But I say that none lead to greater than these lead to.
The Whole Crowd
Reward us, Freedom!
[With one accord the whole crowd turns and lifts its hands to Freedom. A sudden hush comes and the light on the crowd begins to pale.]
[With one accord the whole crowd turns and lifts its hands to Freedom. A sudden hush comes and the light on the crowd begins to pale.]
Four Voices
We found our own, O my Soul, in the calm and cool of the daybreak.
The Chronicler
The word is Roosevelt’s.
[The crowd turns towards the audience and listens as the Spokesmen speak words of Roosevelt’s.]
[The crowd turns towards the audience and listens as the Spokesmen speak words of Roosevelt’s.]
The First Spokesman
No nation great as ours can escape the penalty of greatness. Ours is a government of liberty by, through and under the law.
The Second Spokesman
No man is above it and no man is below it.
Eight Voices
We found our own, O my Soul, in the calm and cool of the daybreak.
The Chronicler
The word is Wilson’s.
The First Spokesman
There has been something crude and heartless and unfeeling in our haste to succeed and be great.
The Second Spokesman
The great government we loved has too often been made use of for private and selfish purposes and those who used it had forgotten the people.
[Through all this the music has progressed sometimes tempestuously, sometimes lyrically. Now it becomes swiftly and terribly sinister and, behind Freedom, where she sits immobile upon her throne, flashes of light, bloody and flaming, run along the balustrade of the uppermost level and the eyes of the people are turned fearfully upwards. Freedom does not move.]
[Through all this the music has progressed sometimes tempestuously, sometimes lyrically. Now it becomes swiftly and terribly sinister and, behind Freedom, where she sits immobile upon her throne, flashes of light, bloody and flaming, run along the balustrade of the uppermost level and the eyes of the people are turned fearfully upwards. Freedom does not move.]
The Chronicler
The world is filled with dread and a great war wages but still Freedom holds aloof from her people, for this war is not waged in her name until the prophet, speaking, gives it meaning.
The Full Choir
Allons, through struggles and wars!The goal that was named cannot be countermanded.
The Chronicler
Again, the word is Wilson’s.
[Freedom rises.The lurid terrace shifts and swarms with figures seen through smoke. Now a new army of olive drab bursts up over the crest and the next lines are shouted by the Choir over a wild pantomime of battle.]
[Freedom rises.
The lurid terrace shifts and swarms with figures seen through smoke. Now a new army of olive drab bursts up over the crest and the next lines are shouted by the Choir over a wild pantomime of battle.]
First Spokesman and Eight Voices
We are glad now to fight thus for the ultimate peace of the world and for the liberation of its peoples.
The Second Spokesman and Sixteen Voices
The world must be made safe for democracy.
Freedom and Four Voices
To such a task we can dedicate our lives and our fortunes, everything that we are and everything that we have, with the pride of those who know that the day is come when America is privileged to spend her blood and her might for the principles that gave her birth and happiness and the peace which she has treasured.
The Whole Choir
God helping her, she can do no other!
[A great frenzy of enthusiasm takes the crowd and the music lifts itself into a supreme climax. But Freedom’s two arms go up for silence and the four Voices are heard again, the words of Carl Sandburg.]
[A great frenzy of enthusiasm takes the crowd and the music lifts itself into a supreme climax. But Freedom’s two arms go up for silence and the four Voices are heard again, the words of Carl Sandburg.]
Eight Voices
(Intoning upon a high wild note.)
Smash down the cities,Knock the walls to pieces.Break the factories and cathedrals, warehouses and homesInto loose piles of stone and lumber and black burnt wood:You are the soldiers and we command you.
[The light dies upon the uppermost terrace and increases upon the crowd.]
[The light dies upon the uppermost terrace and increases upon the crowd.]
Four Other Voices
Build up the cities.Set up the walls again.Put together once more the factories and cathedrals, warehouses and homesInto buildings for life and labor;You are the workmen and citizens all: We command you.
[Again Freedom’s face falls. She comes disconsolately down the stair.]
[Again Freedom’s face falls. She comes disconsolately down the stair.]
The People
Ah!
Four Other Voices
(Again from Sandburg.)
Make us one new dream, us who forgot,Out of the storm let us have one star.
[She stops and looks mournfully down upon them, all the people, and shakes her head.Whereupon, the music going mad again, the people begin all to move and shift about in little, futile designs and, at the same time, on Freedom’s left, a cone of men shoot acrobatically up. There are not more than a dozen figures in it. They wear hot purples and outrageous masks and speak in unison.]
[She stops and looks mournfully down upon them, all the people, and shakes her head.
Whereupon, the music going mad again, the people begin all to move and shift about in little, futile designs and, at the same time, on Freedom’s left, a cone of men shoot acrobatically up. There are not more than a dozen figures in it. They wear hot purples and outrageous masks and speak in unison.]
The Cone
You people,What are you to Freedom?What is Freedom to you?You have no rights, but only duties.Produce!Faster and faster.Harder and harder.It doesn’t matterHow tired you are.Produce, do you hear?
[Whereupon a second cone shoots up on Freedom’s right. It is exactly like the first except that the men in it are dressed in dirty red and orange.]
[Whereupon a second cone shoots up on Freedom’s right. It is exactly like the first except that the men in it are dressed in dirty red and orange.]
The Second Cone
You people!Stand up for your rights!To hell with your duties!Do you want Freedom?Well, then, organize!Wealth is labor!Property is labor!Capital is labor!Organize!
[Whereupon a third cone shoots up at Freedom’s very feet, a cone all of black with senatorial hats topping the masked faces.]
[Whereupon a third cone shoots up at Freedom’s very feet, a cone all of black with senatorial hats topping the masked faces.]
The Third Cone
You people!Forget about freedom!Government’s government.Republican. Democrat.Right or wrong,My country still!The Constitution,Wonderful instrument!Land of the FreeAnd the home of the Brave!Politics. Politics.Don’t forget Washington,Lincoln or Hamilton.What did they tell you?Worship the government.
[The three cones disappear as magically as they appeared and, in their place about Freedom’s feet, is a fan of scarlet figures.]
[The three cones disappear as magically as they appeared and, in their place about Freedom’s feet, is a fan of scarlet figures.]
The Fan
You masses! You masses! You masses!Do you know your power?Do you know your meaning?Do you know what you can do?We’re Freedom.We’re Russia!We’re God!Awake masses!You are the state!You are the world!You are the universe!Take what is yours.
[All this while the people, to swifter and swifter music, always more and more macabre and dissonant, have moved ever and ever more swiftly. Now the music comes back to a horrible parody of “I’ve been working on the Railroad” and the movement takes shape in designs and formal groups, large and small. And the men who made up three cones and the fan surge over the stair and drag Freedom down so that she is lost in the whirling mob. And the light, broken and colorful, dies to gloom and the movement is a movement of patterns and the music drowns all, singing andinstrumental. Then, just at the front of the stage, just above the throne of the Chronicler, a single ray of white light breaks upon Freedom again and, along the upper level, the light once more lifts, and as Freedom begins to speak, it seems to be daybreak.]
[All this while the people, to swifter and swifter music, always more and more macabre and dissonant, have moved ever and ever more swiftly. Now the music comes back to a horrible parody of “I’ve been working on the Railroad” and the movement takes shape in designs and formal groups, large and small. And the men who made up three cones and the fan surge over the stair and drag Freedom down so that she is lost in the whirling mob. And the light, broken and colorful, dies to gloom and the movement is a movement of patterns and the music drowns all, singing andinstrumental. Then, just at the front of the stage, just above the throne of the Chronicler, a single ray of white light breaks upon Freedom again and, along the upper level, the light once more lifts, and as Freedom begins to speak, it seems to be daybreak.]
Freedom
Lost! Lost! Lost!
[The desperate cry pierces all the tumult and brings complete silence upon the scene.]
[The desperate cry pierces all the tumult and brings complete silence upon the scene.]
O People, my People, my People,Where are your wits and your hearts and your souls?What have you done with the destiny I left you?Fools! Fools! Fools!
[A stricken sigh goes up from the people and those about Freedom fall upon their knees.]
[A stricken sigh goes up from the people and those about Freedom fall upon their knees.]
Man does not seek the dream that is not his,Nor dream the search to which he was not destined,Nor hope for that which he does not believe.Who would be free is free;Who would be otherwise is otherwise.Ever man is himself man’s enemy;Ever man’s fear to be himself shall beBetween man and man’s liberty.
[A murmur goes up from the people. She looks sorrowfully and majestically over them.]
[A murmur goes up from the people. She looks sorrowfully and majestically over them.]
Soldiers of Freedom!Comrades of Freedom!Brothers of Freedom!Children of Freedom!Not slaves, but men!Not sheep, but men!Not masses, but men!I cannot set you free who were born free.Nor strike your shackles off who were born slaves.Be to yourselves yourselves, the rest is glory.
[A louder murmur and many of the crowd lift their hands to her.]
[A louder murmur and many of the crowd lift their hands to her.]
Workmen and workwomen!Children and aged!You were born of the past!You are pledged to the future.
[She goes a little up among the kneeling crowd.]
[She goes a little up among the kneeling crowd.]
Soldiers of Freedom,Comrades of Freedom,Brothers of Freedom,You! You! And You!I lead again! I live again! I love!Who dares to follow now!Who comes beside me, bravely and alone,Not one of masses, but as man alone?What, none?Are you all masses, then?
[Some of them come eagerly up to her.]
[Some of them come eagerly up to her.]
You, have you faith?You, are you honest?You, is your spirit strong?You, can you face the sun?Why then, come on!Come on! On! On!I lead—Come on! Come on!
[She plunges up the slope toward the light, her own refulgence illuminating those who come immediately after her. The music reaches its wildest and highest point as the crowds falling in widely behind her, begins to ascend the slope. Freedomis seen to pause and wave the crowd on and a great cone of humanity moves up the stair. Then the music stops upon a tremendous major resolution and Freedom is standing at the top of the stair at last and all the people, their arms reached upwards to her, are spread out below and the light is blinding. The music gives way to a rolling of drums and from the hills come crazy voices invoked by the wild cries and the wilder arms of Freedom most transfigured, most blazing of all.]
[She plunges up the slope toward the light, her own refulgence illuminating those who come immediately after her. The music reaches its wildest and highest point as the crowds falling in widely behind her, begins to ascend the slope. Freedomis seen to pause and wave the crowd on and a great cone of humanity moves up the stair. Then the music stops upon a tremendous major resolution and Freedom is standing at the top of the stair at last and all the people, their arms reached upwards to her, are spread out below and the light is blinding. The music gives way to a rolling of drums and from the hills come crazy voices invoked by the wild cries and the wilder arms of Freedom most transfigured, most blazing of all.]
Freedom
Soldiers of Freedom out of the past of the race, huzza!
A Voice
(Screaming wildly.)
Don’t shoot till you see the whites of their eyes!
Freedom
Again!
Another Voice
(Wilder and from a different position.)
If they mean to have a war let it begin here!
Freedom
Again!
Another Voice
Trust in God and keep your powder dry!
Another Voice
We have not yet begun to fight!
[Now rockets are bursting in the air, gorgeous beautiful rockets.]
[Now rockets are bursting in the air, gorgeous beautiful rockets.]
Freedom
Brothers of Freedom, out of the past of the race, your songs!
Several Voices
(Singing wildly.)
Yankee Doodle came to town,Riding on a pony,Stuck a feather in his hatAnd called it macaroni!Yankee Doodle....
Other Voices
I’ll fight it out on this line if it takes all summer! Give me liberty or give me death! Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and inseparable! Millions for defense but not one cent for tribute! A war to end war! Don’t give up the ship! Lafayette, here we are! Too proud to fight! In the name of the great Jehovah and the Continental Congress!
Other Voices
John Brown’s body lies a moulding in the grave,John Brown’s body lies a moulding in the grave,John Brown’s body lies a moulding in the grave,But his soul goes marching on!Glory, glory, hallelujah!Glory, glory....
Other Voices
Way down south in the land of cotton,Cinnamon seed and sandy bottom,Look away, look away, look away, look away!That’s the land where I was born in....
Other Voices
Over there! Over there! Over there! Over there! Over there! The Yanks are coming....
[By this the light has gone from the people and shines only upon Freedom who turns and holds her hands out over all the multitude. A terrific flight of rockets bursts with a terrific explosion. Then there is absolute silence.]
[By this the light has gone from the people and shines only upon Freedom who turns and holds her hands out over all the multitude. A terrific flight of rockets bursts with a terrific explosion. Then there is absolute silence.]
Freedom
(Coming through the crowds, back down the stair.)
Children of Freedom,Out of the mind of God,Hear ye the truth—Woe unto you, Scribes and Pharisees!...Can ye grow grapes from thorns or figs from thistles?What man, by taking thought, can add a cubit to his stature?Woe unto you, Scribes and Pharisees!To him that hath shall be given. From him that hath not shall be taken away even that which he hath....Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth....Seek and ye shall find....
[With each line of the words of Jesus she has come a little further down the stair. At the last, she stands above the Chronicler’s throne and, on either side of her, two youths kneel, who have followed her down from the Choir. When she has come to the bottom of the slope and when the darkness has taken all else but her figure, she turns her back upon the audience and her hands go out as though she evoked one further image out of the past. We see it, as light scatters the darkness above her—the Common of Lexington in the cold dawn of the Glorious Morning and the line of Minute Men drawn up across it. The Chronicler rises.]
[With each line of the words of Jesus she has come a little further down the stair. At the last, she stands above the Chronicler’s throne and, on either side of her, two youths kneel, who have followed her down from the Choir. When she has come to the bottom of the slope and when the darkness has taken all else but her figure, she turns her back upon the audience and her hands go out as though she evoked one further image out of the past. We see it, as light scatters the darkness above her—the Common of Lexington in the cold dawn of the Glorious Morning and the line of Minute Men drawn up across it. The Chronicler rises.]
The Chronicler
One hundred and fifty years ago there was fought upon this place a battle. Out of that battle came a nation and a nation’s race and a race’s vision of freedom.
[Then the four boys from the Choir speak together as the light goes.]
[Then the four boys from the Choir speak together as the light goes.]
The Four Boys
The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion; that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain; that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of Freedom; and that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth.
[The darkness is now complete. The Chronicler has closed his book. In the hills, a bugle blows taps. The play is finished.]
[The darkness is now complete. The Chronicler has closed his book. In the hills, a bugle blows taps. The play is finished.]