William Vaughn Moody

“ Beeler turns to Michaelis and gazes intently into his face.
Mrs. Beeler.
The light has come into your face again! You are—you are—Oh, my brother, what has come to you?
Michaelis.
I have shaken off my burden. Do you shake off yours. What is pain but a kind of selfishness? What is disease but a kind of sin? Lay your suffering and your sickness from you as an out-worn garment. Rise up! It is Easter morning. One comes, needing you. Rise up and welcome her!
Mrs. Beeler rises and goes to meet Rhoda, entering from the porch.
Rhoda.
Aunt Mary! You are walking again! ”

“ Now you will think I am—not quite right in my mind, as Mat does, and Martha!
Michaelis.
Mrs. Beeler, there is such a perfume about us this beautiful Easter morning. You perceive it, with senses which suffering and a pure soul have made fine beyond the measure of woman. There is a kindness in the air, new-born happiness, and new-risen hope. ”

“ Annie Beeler! Don't want your mother to be cured?
Annie.
No, I don't. I want her to be like she always has been. She don't seem like my Mamma at all this way. What's the matter with all those people out there? Why don't we have any supper?
She bursts out crying and clings feverishly to Martha.
Oh, what's going to happen to us?
Martha.
There, Annie, don't cry.
She looks at Rhoda, throws a cover over her knees, and draws Annie away, speaking low.
Come out in the kitchen, and I'll give you your supper.
Exeunt. The singing grows louder and nearer. Michaelis enters from the hall. ”

“ Rhoda.
Yes, he's coming down, right out of the blue sky.
Annie.
In a panic.
Let me go.
She breaks away and retreats to the hall door, watching the stair door open, and Ulrich Michaelis enter. Thereupon, with a glance of frightened curiosity, she flees. Michaelis is a man of twenty-eight or thirty, and his dark, emaciated face, wrinkled by sun and wind, looks older. His abundant hair is worn longer than common. His frame, though slight, is powerful, and his way of handling himself has the freedom and largeness which come from much open-air life. ”

“ As Beeler goes hurriedly to the door it bursts open and a young woman with a baby in her arms crowds past him, and stands looking wildly about the room.
Beeler.
As he forces the others back.
You can't come in here, my friends! Stand back!
The woman gazes from one to another of the men. The old negro points at Michaelis. She advances to him, holding out the child.
Mother.
Don't let my baby die! For Christ's sake, don't let him die!
He examines the child's face, touches the mother's head tenderly, and signs to Rhoda to take them into the inner room. ”

“ What I am is no matter. What this girl is, though you lived a thousand years, you would never have the grace to imagine. She gave you her young love, in childish blindness, not knowing what she did, and you killed it idly, wantonly, as a beast tortures its frail victim, for sport. You find her again, still weak and bleeding from her wounds, and you fling her marriage, in words whose every syllable is an insult. Marriage! When every fibre of her nature must cry out against you, if she is woman. ”

“ I thought that love had come to me. Girls are so eager for love. They snatch at the shadow of it.—That is what I did.—I am not trying to plead for myself.—Some things are not to be forgiven.—Somewhere in my nature there was a taint—a plague-spot.—If life is given me, I shall find it and root it out. I only ask for time to do that. But meanwhile I have done what I could. I have told you the truth. I have set you free. I have given you back your mission.
Dr. Littlefield enters, carrying his hat and medicine case. He looks sharply at Rhoda, then turns to Michaelis. ”

“ Littlefield goes on, watching him with interest.
Nervously speaking, you are a high power machine. The dynamo that runs you is what is called "faith," "religious inspiration," or whatnot. It's a dynamo which nowadays easily gets out of order. Well, my friend, as a doctor, I warn you that your little dynamo is out of order.—In other words, you've lost your grip. You're in a funk.
Rhoda opens the hall door and looks anxiously at the two. Michaelis approaches her with averted eyes. As he is about to pass out, she speaks timidly. ”

“ Beeler goes out by the kitchen. Martha takes up mechanically her eternal task of setting things to rights—gathering up Annie's toys and arranging the furniture in more precise order. Meanwhile, Rhoda enters from the hall with the mother of the sick child, a frail young woman of nervous type. She clings to Rhoda feverishly.
Mother.
Don't leave me!
Rhoda.
You mustn't worry. Your baby will get well.
Rhoda sinks in a low easy chair before the fire, and the woman kneels beside her, her face hidden on the chair arm.
You must keep up your courage and your trust. ”

“ She goes to the outer door, rings the breakfast bell loudly, and exit to kitchen. Rhoda enters, wheeling Mrs. Beeler in an invalid chair. Mrs. Beeler is a woman of forty, slight of body, with hair just beginning to silver. Her face has the curious refinement which physical suffering sometimes brings. Annie lingers at the door, looking timidly at Michaelis, as he approaches Mrs. Beeler and takes her hand from the arm of the chair. ”

“ Rhoda raises the cup to Mrs. Beeler's lips.
Beeler.
You can't live on tea, Mary.
Martha.
I guess she can live on tea better than on some things!
With a resentful glance at Michaelis.
Some things that some folks seem to live on, and expect other folks to live on.
Michaelis looks up from Annie, who has been whispering in his ear. Beeler nods at Martha in covert approval, as she takes up dishes and goes into the kitchen.
Mrs. Beeler.
Leans forward across the table to Michaelis.
Don't mind my sister-in-law, Mr. Michaelis. It's her way. She means nothing by it. ”

“ Beeler.
Caressing her.
Ah, no! She needs help. She cannot bear it that this disaster has come, through her. It has made her morbid. She says things about herself, that make me tremble. Has she spoken to you—about herself?
Michaelis.
She has laid her heart bare to me.
Mrs. Beeler.
That is good. Young people, when they are generous, always lay disaster at their own door.
She kisses Rhoda. The girl goes into the porch, where she lingers a moment, then disappears. Mrs. Beeler sinks back in her chair again, overtaken by despondency. ”

“ At Mr. Beeler's right is the Indian boy, at his left Annie's vacant chair. Martha beckons to Annie to come to the table, but the child, eyeing the strangers, refuses, taking a chair behind her mother by the mantelpiece. Mrs. Beeler speaks after the meal has progressed for some time in silence.
Mrs. Beeler.
Mat, you haven't said good morning to our guest.
Beeler.
Gruffly.
How are you?
He helps himself to meat and passes it to the others; the plate goes round the table. There is a constrained silence. Annie tugs at Rhoda's skirt, and asks in dumb show to have her breakfast given her. ”

“ The outer door opens. Mrs. Beeler enters, supported by her husband, and accompanied by Martha and the Rev. Culpepper, with Uncle Abe following in the rear. Rhoda hastens to her aunt's side.
Mrs. Beeler.
Ah, Rhoda, I wish you had been out there with me. Such beautiful human faces! Such poor, suffering, believing human faces, lit up by such a wonderful new hope!
She turns to the minister.
Wasn't it a wonderful thing to see?
Culpepper.
It is wonderful to see human nature so credulous. And to me, very painful.
Mrs. Beeler. ”

“ Littlefield.
Bless my soul!
He turns to Rhoda, pointedly ignoring Michaelis.
Look here, Rho, be sensible. I'm tired of this hole of a town already. We'll go west and renew our youth. Country's big, and nobody to meddle. You'll flourish like a green bay tree. ”

“ In the cold black and white of print and paper, without the accessories of the stage or the personality of actors to help illusion or enforce the story told, the real strength of the drama is most impressive. ”

“ Michaelis turns away with bent head. Annie enters from the kitchen. Michaelis holds out his hand to her, and she takes it with shy hesitation.
Martha.
Guess you'd like to know where Rhody is, wouldn't you? She's where she's been all night,—out yonder with the sick folks.
Michaelis.
What is she doing there?
Martha.
Feedin' 'em, first off, an' then heart'nin' of 'em up. That's a purty hard job, I reckon; but it's the way o' women when they feel like she does.
Michaelis sinks in a chair, drawing Annie to him. Mrs. Beeler's bell rings; Martha goes out by the hall door. ”

“ Beeler points to the pictures of Darwin and Spencer.
Nor them?
He unpins the pictures, lays them upon the heap of books, and returns to her.
You don't know how happy that makes me!
They go out by the hall door, Martha, as she lowers the lid of the window-seat, points derisively at the heap.
Martha.
That's a good riddance of bad rubbish!
She comes to the table and continues packing the basket.
You'd better help me with this basket. Them folks will starve to death, if the neighborhood round don't give 'em a bite to eat.
Rhoda fetches other articles from the cupboard. ”

“ The mother goes out. Distant singing is heard. Martha comes to the mantelpiece with matches, which she arranges in the match tray. She looks at Rhoda, who sits with closed eyes.
Martha.
Guess you're about dead beat.
Rhoda.
I think I never was so tired in my life.
Martha.
Worry does it, more'n work. Better try and doze off, Rhody.
The hall door opens, and Annie enters. She comes to Martha, and clings nervously to her skirts.
Annie.
Aunt Martha! I want to stay with you. You're the only person in this house that ain't different. What's the matter with Mamma? ”

“ Rhoda turns distractedly, as to escape; he intercepts her.
Confound it, if you're so set on it, I'll marry you! Say yes, and let John the Baptist here give us his blessing. Speak up. Is it a go?—Till death us do part.
Michaelis.
Death has already parted you and her.
Littlefield.
So? I feel like a reasonably healthy corpse.
Michaelis.
There is no health in you. Every word you speak gives off corruption.
Littlefield.
Indeed! My advice to you is, make tracks for your starvation desert. A parcel of locoed Indians are about right for a busted prophet.
Michaelis. ”

“ Beeler.
Hotly, as if a sort point has been touched upon.
There's nothing more than science will account for.
He points to a shelf of books.
You can read it up any day you like. Read that book yonder, chapter called Hallucinations. Pathological, that's what it is, pathological.
Rhoda.
What does that mean?
Beeler taps his forehead significantly.
Uncle, you know that's not true!
Beeler.
Growls to himself.
Pathological, up and down.
Rhoda replaces the lamp on the mantel.
Martha opens the kitchen door and calls in.
Martha.
Here's Uncle Abe!
Beeler.
Uncle Abe? ”

“ It is a privilege to read at leisure and to examine in detail a play which, when presented upon the boards, sweeps the auditor along in a whirlwind of emotion.... The triumph of nature, with its impulse, its health, its essential sanity and rightness, over the cryptic formulas of convention and Puritanism, marks the meaning of the play.... ”

“ Rhoda.
I know very little about either of them. But I know Mr. Michaelis is not—what you say.
Beeler.
Well, he's a crank at the best of it. He's worked your aunt up now so's she can't sleep. You brought him here, and you've got to get rid of him.
Exit by outer door, with inarticulate grumblings, among which can be distinguished.
Hump! Ulrich Michaelis! There's a name for you.
Annie.
What's a fakir?
Rhoda does not answer.
Cousin Rho, what's a fakir?
Rhoda.
Humoring her.
A man, way off on the other side of the world, in India, who does strange things.
Annie. ”

“ Chants in a high, trilling voice.
"Chillun, chillun, they ain' no Gawd, they ain' no sin nor no jedgment, they's jes' springtime an' happy days, and folks carryin' on. Whar's yo' lil gal, Abe Johnson? Whar's yo' lil sweet-heart gal?" An' me on'y got religion wintah befo', peekin' roun' pie-eyed, skeered good. En fo' you could say "De Lawd's my Shepherd," kerchunk goes de Black Man in de mud-puddle, change' into a big green bullfrog!
Mrs. Beeler.
You just imagined all that.
Uncle Abe. ”

“ Rhoda.
Yes. One of the old heathen gods.
Beeler.
Call him heathen if you like! The folks that worshipped him thought he was orthodox, I guess.
He pins up the print, which represents a palmer of crusading times surprised in the midst of a forest by the god Pan.
Rhoda.
What does the picture mean?
Beeler.
Well, Pan there, he was a kind of a nature god. The old Romans thought him out, to stand for a lot of things.
Rhoda.
What kind of things?
Beeler.
Natural things, with plenty of sap and mischief in 'em. Growin' plants, and frisky animals, and young folks in love. ”

“ Ulrich Michaelis Matthew Beeler Mary Beeler, his wife Martha Beeler, his sister Annie Beeler, his daughter Rhoda Williams, Mrs. Beeler's niece Dr. George Littlefield Rev. John Culpepper Uncle Abe, an old negro An Indian Boy A Young Mother with her Baby Various Sick People and Others Attendant upon Them ACT I
A large old-fashioned room in Matthew Beeler's farm-house, near a small town in the Middle West. The room is used for dining and for general living purposes. It suggests, in architecture and furnishings, a past of considerable prosperity, which has now given place to more humble living. ”

“ Michaelis looks at Mrs. Beeler, then for a long time at Rhoda. He gathers himself together, and gazes steadfastly before him, as at some unseen presence.
No.—I have waited so long. I have had such deep assurances.—I must not fail. I must not fail.
CURTAIN
ACT II
Late afternoon of the same day.
Mrs. Beeler sits in a low chair near the window. She has ceased reading the Testament, which lies open in her lap.
Uncle Abe sits on the floor with Annie. They are playing with building blocks, piling up and tearing down various ambitious structures. ”

“ Annie retreats to Uncle Abe, who bends over the child and whispers in her ear. She grows amused, and begins to sway as to a tune, then chants.
Annie.
"Mary an' a' Martha's jus' gone along,
Mary an' a' Martha's jus' gone along,
Mary an' a' Martha's jus' gone along,
Ring dem charmin' bells."
As she finishes the rhyme she runs out into the hall. Mrs. Beeler begins again to read her Testament. The old negro approaches Mrs. Beeler and Rhoda, and speaks mysteriously.
Uncle Abe.
That thah chil' she's talkin' sense. They's sumpin' ain't right about dis hyah house.
Mrs. Beeler. ”