Marguerite Wilkinson

“ FLIP
May Heaven have mercy on the sheepskin degree I cribbed for in college! What say the sages? A common fear unites foes of long standing. And here, verily, are Labor and Capital discoursing earnestly together like young brides on the subject of biscuits. Are you, then, the cause of their peace, O Mars?
MARS
Well asked. Indeed they are too much afraid
To seem like men. Men used to be more bold
When I was young. When earth was young with me
They were not cowards—
LABOR AND CAPITAL
(wheeling about angrily)
Nor are we cowards today! ”

“ Is far more terrible than roughest strife.
Nor are we fools to give up life with joy,
Save when the feud of Capital and Labor
Has made our minds a Hell of sordid warfare
And clothed our gayety in querulous crepe.
Then, in our desperate mourning for young joy,
The sweetness and variety of life,
The rainbow radiance and the cloth of gold
That are youth’s great inalienable right,
We know no other way and follow blindly
The one mad way that gives a thrill of glory,
And frees our pulsing life. So are we made.... ”

“ These are my folk, and their new songs I sing,
And a new era, burning bright with peace.
(A chain breaks and frees the right arm of Soul of Man, who extends it in blessing toward Poetry.)
SOUL OF MAN
O Poetry, your word has broken bonds
Forged long ago when earth was very young.
Sing you for me till you and I together
Shall leaven all this lump of humankind
With the new yeast of kindly brotherhood.
We’ll purge the old earth of this festering fear
And heal this cancer! Poetry, sing on!
MARS
(scornfully, to Poetry)
I need you not, then. ”

“ The chains drop from the body of Soul of Man, and he, leaping to his feet, runs to take his place in the center, in front of the body of Mars and in a widening semi-circle of the people. His black garment falls on Mars, and Soul of Man is transfigured, a radiant figure in blue and gold and crimson, with flaming wings rising behind him and above. The people, also, are glorified by the rising of the sun behind them. ”

“ Labor turns up his sleeves, clenches his fist and takes a stride or two toward Capital, who is frightened and blows a whistle in alarm. Enter Religion from The World Inn, a little man in black, carrying a book, who trots up to Capital as to a master. ”

“ O Cult, come hither, I have need of you.
(Enter Cult in fantastic costume, carrying a crystal into which he gazes. He walks slowly, with an air of craft and mystery, and speaks in a droning monotone.)
CULT
Abracadabra—someone spoke my name—
The aura that I wear about me shivered
As if for vocal contact. I am here.
(While Cult is speaking Trade comes slyly forward from the back, where she has been sitting, watching in disdainful amusement, and gradually draws nearer to the sleeping Mars.)
RELIGION
(to Cult)
Brother, I need you here to stop a fight ”

“ FLIP
But they will not, Blackcoat, no. I can make men behave a few minutes at a time because I amuse them. One would think your derivative graces almost funny enough to serve the same purpose. But men do not want you to be funny. They would have you large and majestic, and to-day you do not seem big enough to enforce attention from any but an audience of corpses. These two, Labor and Capital, are not corpses, but red-blooded men, having given themselves over to the same ha——fair lady, Trade. ”

“ They find their families or greet their sweethearts and most of the happy couples go off down the road together at the left. A few enter The World Inn. There is the rattle of dishes, laughter and good cheer. The sun sinks perceptibly and it grows darker. Enter Capital and Labor, quarreling. ”

“ He has slept long, and while he has been sleeping, women have indulged their husbands and borne too many children, and the world is full to overflowing; men have indulged their families in new luxuries of all kinds. All fear temperance as they fear death, for, like death it curbs desire. The Soul of Man, of whom we constantly hear, has not yet made himself conspicuous, although the women’s clubs claim to know all about him. But, if the enemy should awaken—
(Mars stirs in his sleep)
CULT ”

“ He would look through a crystal to find what is hidden in brush and pumpkins.
(Trade seats herself on the shield of Mars and lights a cigarette)
LABOR
Enough of nonsense. I am not a child
That I should swallow all this mystic mush.
If old Religion were what once he seemed,
He never would have called on you, O Cult.
(Labor takes a step toward Capital again, and Religion makes a gesture of appeal to Flip.)
FLIP
Blackcoat, there is no use. There is but one enemy who can drain them of their feverish passions and so reconcile them, the same who lies sleeping under the brush in the corner. ”

“ Apropos of that, friend Mars, a flea in your ear!...
MARS
Talk if you must, but do not talk too long....
FLIP
(speaking rapidly—even earnestly)
If you raise hob now, it will not add to your popularity one whit. There is nothing but stage bombast to fight about. There is a little need of Capital for expansion, and of Labor for more bread, since he breeds fifty per cent. too fast. There is the hope of enlarging certain rooms in The World Inn to accommodate more strangers, or else of reducing the number of travellers who wish to sojourn therein. ”

“ Horses, artillery, men, crossing and recrossing, running, marching, working. Mars, proudly erect in the center shouts “Good!” and repeats it. A man, marching in with others, leaves his group and runs to the steps of The World Inn. ”

“ Homespun I can forgive if a man bring his soul and stand before me bravely. I will have no dealings with go-betweens.”
Here then, is my work, faulty, and plainly clad, but brave enough to go humbly before you who read and think, and by your thinking rule. If it find favor, it can be clothed anew in finer raiment. If judgment and equity prevail against it, surely it is well enough shrouded.
Copyright, 1915, by Marguerite Wilkinson
To the memory of
my father,
a strong and valiant lover of the soul of man, and
to his brave mate
my mother
PERSONS OF THE PLAY
Mars, the ancient god of war. ”

“ And too many yous would be poor company for one another. Wherever one man has a bulge to his stomach, another must find his a siege and a retreat. Well, friends, tell me your troubles, and I will be a judge without the recall and a jury without opinions to settle the case.
LABOR
Both of us love the lady men call Trade.
FLIP
The prettiest of all she-devils, she—
LABOR
And she is pliant ever to his will
Who has most power. And we do both contend
That power resides in pumpkins—but I claim—
CAPITAL
Of pumpkins we were speaking. Be exact.
(To Flip)
He claims them all because he planted them. ”

“ EXTRACTS FROM REVIEWS OF “IN VIVID GARDENS”
“A rich contralto voice singing out of the deepest experiences of life.”—Poetry.
“The emotions are human, lofty and honorable; their voicing is sincere, passionate, and at times exalted.”—Twentieth Century Magazine. ”