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| author | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2026-05-27 09:23:31 -0700 |
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| committer | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2026-05-27 09:23:31 -0700 |
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| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/78768-0.txt b/78768-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..26d69ee --- /dev/null +++ b/78768-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1134 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78768 *** + + [Illustration: + + THE PEASANT WOMAN + EDITH WYNNE MATTHISON + FROM PHOTOGRAPH BY ALICE BOUGHTON] + + + + + THE + TERRIBLE MEEK + + A ONE-ACT STAGE PLAY FOR THREE + VOICES: TO BE PLAYED IN DARKNESS + + BY + CHARLES RANN KENNEDY + AUTHOR OF + “THE SERVANT IN THE HOUSE” + + “_For they shall inherit the earth_” + + [Illustration] + + HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS + NEW YORK AND LONDON + + + + + ALL STAGE, RECITATION, PUBLICATION, TRANSLATION + AND OTHER RIGHTS RESERVED. APPLICATION + SHOULD BE MADE TO MESSRS. HARPER & BROTHERS + + + + + BOOKS BY + + CHARLES RANN KENNEDY + + SEVEN PLAYS FOR SEVEN PLAYERS + + _Volumes now ready_: + THE WINTERFEAST + THE SERVANT IN THE HOUSE + THE IDOL-BREAKER + THE RIB OF THE MAN + + SHORTER PLAYS FOR SMALL CASTS + + _Volumes now ready_: + THE TERRIBLE MEEK + THE NECESSARY EVIL + + HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK + + + COPYRIGHT, 1912. BY CHARLES RANN KENNEDY + PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + + + TO + MY MOTHER + + A NEWER COURAGE. MORE LIKE + WOMAN’S. DEALING WITH LIFE, NOT + DEATH. IT CHANGES EVERYTHING + + + + + PERSONS OF THE PLAY + + A PEASANT WOMAN + AN ARMY CAPTAIN + A SOLDIER + + + THE TIME + + A TIME OF DARKNESS + + + THE PLACE + + A WIND-SWEPT HILL + + + + + THE TERRIBLE MEEK + + + + + THE TERRIBLE MEEK + + + _Before the curtain rises, a bell from some distant place of + worship tolls the hour. Nine brazen notes, far off, out of + tune. Then a heavy peal of thunder, and the sharp, cracking + strike of a bolt; yet, above all, one other sound, more + piercing--a strange, unearthly Cry. There follows a mighty + howling of wind, blended with a confused clamour of voices + and the hurrying of many feet. The noises have almost all + died away, when the Curtain rises upon inky darkness._ + + _A sudden hush. The silence deepens. There is a sense of + moorlands and desolate places._ + + _Far off, a cow lows in her stall. Some lost sheep down in the + valley bleats dismally. Silence again._ + + _It is broken by the Voice of a Woman, weeping + bitterly._ A PEASANT WOMAN. + +WOMAN. Oh!... + + _Another Voice: the gentlemanly, well-bred voice + of an army man, now under some stress of + emotion._ A CAPTAIN. + +CAPTAIN. My God, this is awful. I can’t stand it. + +WOMAN. Oh!... + +CAPTAIN. Come, my good woman, it’s all over now. There’s no earthly +help for it. You can’t remain here, you know. + +WOMAN. Leave me be. Leave me be. + +CAPTAIN. All the others left long ago. They hurried off home the +moment--the moment the storm came.... + +Come, it’s bleak and quite too dreadful for you up on this hill. Let +me send you back to the town with one of the soldiers. + +WOMAN. One of the--soldiers!... + +CAPTAIN. Yes: come, come now.... + +WOMAN. Leave me be. Don’t touch me. There’s the smell of death on you. + +CAPTAIN. Well, since you.... And, after all.... + + _The clank and rattle of his sword and uniform + mark his moving away. He sits._ + +The smell of death. My God, it’s true. + + _A bitter wind comes soughing up from the valley. + The sheep bleats once, piteously. Then all is + quiet again._ + + _Some one else is coming. He is heard stumbling + blindly up over the hill, the steel butt + of his weapon ringing among the stones._ A + SOLDIER. + + _Groping in darkness, he collides suddenly with + the_ CAPTAIN. _His Voice is that of a common + man, city-bred_; + +SOLDIER. Gawd blimey, wot the ’ell.... + +Oh, beg pawdon, sir. Didn’t know it was you, Captain. + +CAPTAIN. That’s all right, sentry. + +SOLDIER. ’Pon my word, sir, you give me a start, fust go orf. Wot +with the storm an’ the darkness, an’ this ’ere little job we been +doin’, I tek my oath I thought for a moment as you was ... well, +summat else. + +Wasn’t quite a nice thing wot ’appened up ’ere just nah, sir, was it? + +CAPTAIN. It wasn’t. + +SOLDIER. I’m on guard myself, sir; or I don’t know as I’d ’a’ come +up, not for choice. + +You bin ’ere all the time, Captain? + +CAPTAIN. Have I? Yes, I suppose I have. I’ve been here ... ever since. + +SOLDIER. It’s not exackly the place ter spend a pleasant arternoon, +is it, sir? + +CAPTAIN. No, I suppose not. + +SOLDIER. O’ course, there’s company, as you might say; but not quite +congenial company, eh wot? + +CAPTAIN. That depends entirely upon the point of view. + +SOLDIER. Dam’ creepy, I call it!... + +Well, we done for _’im_ good an’ proper, any’ah. + +CAPTAIN. My God, yes. We builders of empire know how to do our +business. + +SOLDIER. Pretty bloody business, too, ain’t it, sir? + +CAPTAIN. Yes, that’s the word. + + _They consider it for a moment. Presently the_ + SOLDIER _laughs at some amusing recollection_; + +SOLDIER. It’s an ill wind wot blows nobody any good. _I_ got summat +aht o’ this, orl said an’ done. + +CAPTAIN. What’s that? + +SOLDIER. I got some of ’is togs. + +CAPTAIN. His togs. How do you mean? + +SOLDIER. Why, I’ll tell yer. _’E_ didn’t want no more togs, not the +way ’e was goin’; nah did ’e? So me an’ the boys, we got our ’eds +together, and arter we’d undressed ’im an’ put ’im to bed, so to +speak, we pitched an’ tossed for the ’ole bag lot, one by one, till +they was orl bloomin’ well divided aht. I got ’is boots. + +CAPTAIN. You got his boots, did you? + +SOLDIER. Yes, pore devil. _’E_ don’t want them no more. Not quite my +fit; but they’ll do to tek ’ome for a keepsake--that is, if we ever +do get ’ome aht of this ’ere stinkin’ ’ole. My little missis ’ll +think a lot of them boots. + +CAPTAIN. They will be a pleasant memento. + +SOLDIER. Just wot _I_ say, sir. Oh, my missis, she got an ’oly nose +for ’orrors: she reely ’ave. Tellin’ abaht them boots ’ll last ’er a +lifetime. + +CAPTAIN. She must be an attractive young woman, your--missis. + +SOLDIER. Oh no, sir, just ordinary, just ordinary. Suits _me_, orl +right.... + + _Some memory holds him for a moment_; + +Funny thing, Captain, ’ow this ’ere foreign service keeps you--well, +sort of thinkin’, don’t it? S’pose it’s the lonely nights an’ the +long sentry duties an’ such like.... + +CAPTAIN. You’ve felt that too, then, have you? + +SOLDIER. Yessir; meks me think abaht my missis. ’Er was in the family +way when I left ’ome, sir--expectin’ just a couple of month arter I +sailed.... + +The little beggar ’ll be gettin’ on by nah--that is, if ’e come orl +right. + +CAPTAIN. You’ve made up your mind for a boy then, eh? + +SOLDIER. She allus ’oped for a boy, sir. Women’s like that. S’pose +it’s orl right; it’s men wot’s wanted these days, wot with the Army +an’ the Spread of Empire an’ orl that. + +CAPTAIN. Yes, they make better killing. + + _The_ SOLDIER _is rather stupid, or he would have + laughed. He goes on_; + +SOLDIER. Yessir, ’er’s bin ’ankerin’ arter a kid ever since we was +married six year ago; but some-’ow or other it never seemed to come +orf. ’Ealthy woman, too, sir. _You_ unnerstand ’ow these things is, +Captain: there’s no tellin’. Little beggars come by guess an’ by +Gawd, it seems to me.... + +I wonder if it’s a boy. There’s no gettin’ no news aht in this +blarsted.... + +Good Gawd, wot’s that?... + +CAPTAIN. What? + +SOLDIER. Be’ind us. Summat sort of.... There, ’ark! + + _The_ WOMAN’S _Voice rises, sighing like wind_; + +WOMAN. Oh!... + +SOLDIER. My Gawd, wot is it? + +CAPTAIN. It’s a woman. + +SOLDIER. A woman! Up _’ere_? + +CAPTAIN. She has every right to be here. This is her place. + +SOLDIER. But does she know? Does she know wot’s ... danglin’ up +yonder, over ’er ’ed? + +CAPTAIN. She knows more than we do. She belongs to him. She is his +mother. + +SOLDIER. ’Is mother!... + +CAPTAIN. Yes, he was her baby once. + + _The_ SOLDIER _is affected by this. He speaks + with real compassion_; + +SOLDIER. Pore devil! + + _Their minds go wandering through many troubled + by-paths of thought. Presently the_ SOLDIER + _speaks again_; + +Wot was it ’e done, Captain? + +CAPTAIN. Don’t you know? + +SOLDIER. Not exackly. I got enough to look arter with my drills an’ +vittles withaht messin’ abaht with politics an’ these ’ere funny +foreign religions. + +CAPTAIN. And yet you, if I mistake not, were one of the four men told +off to do the job. + +SOLDIER. Well, I ’ope I know my duty, sir. I on’y obeyed orders. Come +to that, sir, arskin’ your pawdon, it was you as give them orders. I +s’pose _you_ knew orl right wot it was ’e done? + +CAPTAIN. No, I don’t know exactly, either. I am only just beginning +to find out. We both did our duty, as you call it, in blindness. + +SOLDIER. That’s strange langwidge to be comin’ from _your_ lips, +Captain. + +CAPTAIN. Strange thoughts have been coming to me during the last six +hours. + +SOLDIER. It’s difficult to know wot’s wot in these outlandish +places. It’s not like at ’ome, sir, where there’s Law an’ Order an’ +Patriotism an’ Gawd’s Own True Religion. These blarsted ’eathens got +no gratitude. ’Ere’s the Empire sweatin’ ’er guts aht, tryin’ ter +knock some sense inter their dam’ silly ’eds; an’ wot do you get aht +of it, orl said an’ done? Nuthin’! Nuthin’ but a lot of ingratitude, +’ard words, insurrections, an’ every nah an’ then a bloody example +like this ’ere to-day! Oh, these foreigners mek me sick, they do +reely! + +CAPTAIN. Yes, perhaps that has been the real mistake all along. + +SOLDIER. Wot ’as, Captain? + +CAPTAIN. Taking these people--men like this one, for instance--for +foreigners. + +SOLDIER. Well, you’ll excuse me, sir, but wot the ’ell else are they? + +CAPTAIN. I’m not quite sure; but supposing they were more nearly +related? Supposing, after all, they happened to be made of the same +flesh and blood as you and me? Supposing they were men? Supposing, +even, they were--brothers? + +SOLDIER. Brothers! Why, that’s exackly wot ’e used ter say--’im up +there.... + +Did you ever ’ear ’im, sir? + +CAPTAIN. Once. Did you? + +SOLDIER. Once. + + _They remain silent for a little._ + +It was politics when I ’eard ’im. On’y it sahnded more like some +rummy religion. + +CAPTAIN. When I heard him it was religion--sounding curiously like +politics. + +SOLDIER. Them two things don’t ’ardly seem to go together, do they, +sir? + +CAPTAIN. They don’t. Perhaps they ought to. + +SOLDIER. I don’t know. Seems to ’ave led _’im_ into a pretty mess.... + +It’s a queer world!... + +I wonder wot it was ’e reely done. + +CAPTAIN. It’s rather late in the day for us to be considering that, +seeing what we have done, isn’t it? + +SOLDIER. Well, I don’t know. P’r’aps it’s funny of me, but I never +done a job like this yet withaht thinkin’ abaht it arterwards.... An’ +I done a few of ’em, too. + +If you arsk me, sir, it was them--well, them long-faced old jossers +dahn there as begun the ’ole beastly business. You know ’oo I mean. + +CAPTAIN. Yes, I know whom you mean. But haven’t they a name? + +SOLDIER. Well, I ’ardly know _wot_ ter call them, sir. They’re like +a lot of old washerwomen. Allus jawin’. We got nuthin’ exackly like +that sort at ’ome, sir. + +CAPTAIN. Oh, I don’t know that there’s all that difference. + +SOLDIER. They was allus naggin’ the pore fellow, one way an’ another. +Couldn’t leave ’im alone. They started the ’ole business. + +CAPTAIN. Why, what fault did they find with him? What was it they +said he did? + +SOLDIER. It wasn’t nuthin’ ’e done, far as I could mek aht. It was +summat as ’e said, wot riled them. + +CAPTAIN. Something he said? + +SOLDIER. Yes, summat ’orrible; that’s wot they said. Summat too bad +ter be spoken, summat they wasn’t a-goin’ ter stand from anybody. +Least, that’s wot I ’eard.... + +Wasn’t so very ’orrible, neither. Not ter me. Sahnded a bit mad, +that’s orl. + +CAPTAIN. Oh, then you know what it was? + +SOLDIER. Yessir. They ’ad a name for it, too: on’y I can’t quite +remember. One of them big jaw-crackers, you unnerstand. Seems a bit +orf for a bloke ter come ter this, just for usin’ a few words. + +CAPTAIN. There is great power in words. All the things that ever get +done in the world, good or bad, are done by words. + +SOLDIER. Well, there’s summat in that, too. On’y this thing ’e +said--blimey, it was nuthin’! There ain’t a loony alive wot doesn’t +say the same thing ’e said, an’ more, a thahsand times a day, when +’e’s reel bad in ’is ’ead. At the most, it sahnded like a bit of +langwidge, that’s orl. + +CAPTAIN. And _you_ don’t mind that, do you? + +SOLDIER. Me? ’E could ’a’ done it till ’e was blue in the face an’ +welcome, far as I’d care. + +CAPTAIN. You yourself, of course, had nothing at all against him? +Nothing personal, nothing political, I mean. No more than I had. + +SOLDIER. Lor’ bless you, no, sir. Rawther liked ’im, the bit I saw of +’im. + +CAPTAIN. Only they--the long-faced gentlemen--found him guilty. So, +of course, they had to hand him over to the magistrate. + +SOLDIER. Yes, blarst them. What did they want ter go an’ do that for? + +CAPTAIN. It was perhaps their--duty, don’t you see? + +SOLDIER (_taken aback on the sacred word_). Oh, was it? Well, since +you put it in that way, o’ course.... + +CAPTAIN. Then, again, came the magistrate’s duty. I suppose he found +he had some duty in the matter? Did _he_ very much object to this +horrible thing that had been said? + +SOLDIER. Not much! ’E ain’t that sort, not this fellow!... + +That’s the funny thing abaht it. Far as I could ’ear, there weren’t +no mention of that, by the time the case come into ’is ’ands. No, it +was riotin’ an’ stirrin’ people up agen the government, as ’e on’y +’ad ter deal with. + +CAPTAIN. Was that charge proved against the prisoner? + +SOLDIER. They ’ad witnesses, I suppose. On’y you know wot witnesses +are, in a case like this, sir. Got their orders, you unnerstand. + +CAPTAIN. And, of course, they all did their duty. That sacred +obligation was attended to. They obeyed. + +SOLDIER. I don’t know. Don’t arsk me. I know nuthin’ abaht it. + + _He is a little nettled at the turn the + conversation is taking._ + +CAPTAIN. Was there no one, from among all those crowds that followed +him, to stand up and say a word for him? + +SOLDIER. Well, wot do _you_ think? Them greasy blighters! You saw ’ow +they be’aved just nah, when we done the job. + +CAPTAIN. _Their_ duty, as voicers of public opinion, I suppose. + +SOLDIER (_sullenly_). I don’t know. + +CAPTAIN. Had they any very strong feelings against this monstrous +thing he said? Were they so stirred with affection for the +government? Or didn’t their duty cover those unessential points? + +SOLDIER. I don’t know. + +CAPTAIN. Well then, this magistrate? Having examined this poor wretch +in the presence of all that exemplary, patriotic, obedient mob of +people, he soon found out where _his_ duty lay? It was his duty to +hand him over to us--to you and me. + +SOLDIER (_shortly_). Yessir. + +CAPTAIN (_insisting_). To you and me. + +SOLDIER. I said, Yessir. + +CAPTAIN. Whereupon, though we were practically ignorant as to the +charge upon which this man was convicted: though we had grave doubts +as to whether he were guilty at all; and while it is perfectly +certain that we had nothing against him personally, that we even +liked him, sympathized with him, pitied him: it became _our_ duty, +our sworn, our sacred duty, to do to him--the terrible thing we did +just now. + +SOLDIER. I can’t see wot you’re drivin’ at, sir. You wouldn’t ’ave a +man go agen ’is duty, would you? + +CAPTAIN. I’m trying to make up my mind. I don’t know. I’m blind. I +don’t think I know what duty is. + +SOLDIER. It’s perfectly plain, sir. Arter all, duty _is_ duty, ain’t +it? + +CAPTAIN. Yes, it doesn’t seem to be very much else. + +SOLDIER. ’Ow do you mean, sir? + +CAPTAIN. Well, for instance, it doesn’t seem to be love or +neighborliness or pity or understanding or anything that comes out +hot and fierce from the heart of a man. Duty! Duty! We talk of duty! +What sort of devil’s duties are there in the world, do you think, +when they lead blindly, wantonly, wickedly, to the murder of such a +man as this! + +SOLDIER. Well, far as I’m concerned, I on’y obeyed my orders. + +CAPTAIN. Orders! Obeyed orders! + +SOLDIER. Well, sir, it was you as give them to me. + +CAPTAIN. Good God, man, why didn’t you strike me in the blasphemous +teeth, the hour I gave them? + +SOLDIER. Me, sir? Strike my superior orficer! + +CAPTAIN. You struck this defenceless man. You had no scruples about +his superiority. You struck him to the death. + +SOLDIER (_hotly_). I on’y did my duty! + +CAPTAIN. We have murdered our brother. We have destroyed a woman’s +child. + +SOLDIER. I on’y obeyed my orders. When my superior orficer says, +_Kill a man_, why, I just kill ’im, that’s orl. O’ course I kill ’im. +Wot’s a soldier for? That’s duty! (_With sudden lust._) Blood an’ +’ell! I’d kill ’im soon as look at ’im, yes, I would, if ’e was Gawd +aht of ’Eaven, ’Imself!... + +Not as I ’ave anythin’ personal agen this pore devil. On’y I _do_ +know my duty. + + _They are silent for a little while. Then the_ + SOLDIER, _feeling that he has gone too far, + begins assuaging the situation_; + +There’s one thing certain: it’s no use cryin’ over spilt milk. ’E’s +dead an’ done for nah, wotever comes. Dead as a door-nail, pore cuss. + + _The_ CAPTAIN, _who has risen during his + excitement, now sits down again. His sword + clatters against a boulder._ + + _A pause._ + +’E ain’t the fust man I done for, neither; an’ I bet ’e won’t be the +last. Not by a long way. + + _He speaks in an aggrieved tone. It is the way in + which shame comes to a soldier._ + + _A pause._ + +CAPTAIN (_deeply_). So you think he is dead, do you? + +SOLDIER. Well, wot do _you_ think? A man don’t live forever, ’ung up +as ’igh as we got ’im yonder. Besides, we did a bit of business with +’is vital parts, arter we’d got ’im up there. + +CAPTAIN. And all that, you think, means--death. + +SOLDIER. Well, don’t it? + +CAPTAIN. That’s what I’m wondering. + +SOLDIER. Six hours, mind you. It’s a long time. + +CAPTAIN. There is something mightier than time. + +SOLDIER. Well, they don’t supply little boys’ playthings, not from +our War Office. One of these ’ere beauties.... + + _He rattles his weapon in the darkness and + continues_; + +... when they _do_ start business, generally touch the spot. + +CAPTAIN. It would have to reach very far, to touch--this man’s life. + +SOLDIER. Nah, wotever do you mean, Captain? + +CAPTAIN. I mean that life is a terrible, a wonderful thing. You +can’t kill it. All the soldiers in the world, with all their hate, +can’t kill it. It comes back, it can’t die, it rises again. + +SOLDIER. Good Gawd, Captain, don’t you talk like that! + +CAPTAIN. Why, what are you afraid of? We have shown great courage +to-day, you and I. Soldiers should be brave, you know. + +SOLDIER. That’s orl very well, when it’s a matter of plain flesh an’ +blood; but Lor’! Ghosts!... + +Do you believe in them, sir? + +CAPTAIN. What? + +SOLDIER. Ghosts. + +CAPTAIN. Yes. It came to me to-day. + +SOLDIER (_slowly_). If I believed there was reely ghosts abaht.... + +CAPTAIN. They are the only realities. Two of them ought to be +especially important to you and me just now. + +SOLDIER. Two? Blimey! ’Oose? + +CAPTAIN. Why, yours, man, and mine. Our ghosts. Our immortal ghosts. +This deed of ours to-day should make us think of them forever. + +SOLDIER. Yours an’ mine? I didn’t know we ’ad ghosts, you an’ me. + +CAPTAIN. It makes a difference, doesn’t it? There have been millions +of our sort in the long history of the world. I wonder how many +more millions there will be in the years to come. Blind, dutiful, +bloody-handed: murderers, all of us. A soldier’s ghost must be a +pitiable thing to see. + + _The cloudy darkness slightly lifts from + the ground. Their forms can be dimly + discerned--vague shadows upon a deeper gloom. + Up above there still dwells impenetrable + night._ + +Tell me, brother murderer, have you ever prayed? + +SOLDIER. Me, sir?... (_Ashamed._) Well, sir, nah you arsk me, yes I +’ave--once. + +CAPTAIN. When was that? + +SOLDIER. Why, sir, abaht a couple of month arter I set sail for this +blarsted little ’ole. + +CAPTAIN. I understand. You prayed then for the birth of an innocent +child? + +SOLDIER. Yessir. + +CAPTAIN. You will have need to pray again to-night. Both of us will +have need. This time for the death of an innocent man. + + _The_ SOLDIER _is embarrassed. He does not know + what to say. Something about “duty” comes into + his head; but somehow it seems inappropriate._ + + _A brighter thought occurs to him_; + +SOLDIER. Well, it’s time I was dahn yonder, lookin’ arter the boys. +Any orders, sir? + +CAPTAIN. Orders? No, no more--orders. + +SOLDIER. Orl right, sir. + + _There is heard the rattle of his salute, and the + dying away of his footsteps, as he stumbles + blindly up and over the hill._ + + _The_ CAPTAIN _does not speak until all is still + again_. + +CAPTAIN. My God! My God! Oh, my God! + + _He buries his face in the dirt and stones._ + + _The faintest moaning of wind. The sheep bleats. + A dog, disturbed by the sound, barks, far off. + Then there is a deep silence, lasting one + minute._ + + _The Voice of the_ PEASANT WOMAN _is heard, + speaking at first in dull, dead tones, very + slowly_; + +WOMAN. Thirty-three year ago he was my baby. I bore him. I warmed +him: washed, dressed him: fended for him. I fed his little mouth with +milk. Thirty-three year ago. And now he’s dead. + +Dead, that’s what he is. Dead. Hung up in the air like a thief: +broken and bleeding like a slaughtered beast. All the life gone out +of him. And I’m his mother. + + _A gray, misty light creeps over her face and + hands. Moment by moment, her features limn out + faintly through the darkness, one pale agony._ + + _Her garments still blend with the general gloom._ + +That’s what they done to my son. Killed him like a beast. Respectable +people, they was. Priests, judges, soldiers, gentlemen: even common +folk like me. _They_ done it. And now he’s dead. + +He didn’t hold with their kind, my son. He was always telling them +about it. He would stand up open in the market-place, at the street +corners, even in the House of God itself, and tell them about it. +That’s why they killed him. + +He had a strange way with him, my son: always had, from the day he +first come. His eyes.... They was wonderful. They held folk. That and +his tongue and his tender, pitiful heart. + +They didn’t understand it down here. None of us understood it. We was +blind--even me. Many a time I got in his way and tried to hinder him: +I was afraid for him, ashamed. And then he’d look at me.... + +They was always wonderful, his eyes. + +He wasn’t particular, my son. He would go with anybody. He loved them +so. There wasn’t a drunken bibber in the place, not a lozel, not a +thief, not a loose woman on the streets, but called him brother. He +would eat with them, drink with them, go to their parties. He would +go with grand folk, too: gentlemen. He wasn’t particular: he would go +with anybody. + +And I tried to hinder him: I got in his way, because I was ashamed. +I kept pushing in. I was afraid of what the people might think. +Like I was blind. Like I didn’t understand. I never told him as I +understood. And now it’s too late. He’s dead. + + _A gust of anguish takes her, overwhelming her_; + +Oh, my son, my own son, child of my sorrow, my lad, come back to me! +It’s me, it’s your mother, calling to you. Cannot you hear me out of +the lone waste and the darkness yonder? My lad, come back, come back +to me!... + +He’s gone. I shall never know the touch and the healing gladness of +him again, my son, my little lad.... Hark!... + + _The wind rises and falls away like a whisper._ + +On’y the wind blowing up over the moors. God’s breath, men call it. +Ah! It strikes chill to the bones.... + +Is it cold you are, my lad? I cannot reach you yonder--on’y your +feet, your poor broken feet and the ankles hanging limp toward me. +My bosom warms and waits for you, hungering, yearning like the day +I bare you; but I cannot get up to you: I am cramped and cold and +beaten: I cannot reach you yonder.... + + _There is heard a low fluttering as of wings_; + +The night-birds and the bats may come anigh you, they with their +black wings; but not your mother, the mother that gave you life, the +mother that held you warm, my son, my son, my little cold lad. + + _Her speech breaks away into sobs for a little + while. As she recovers, she goes into a dazed + dream of memories_; + +That was a cold night, too--the night you was born, way out in the +country yonder, in the barn with them beasties. My man, he was sore +about it. He covered us over with his great wool coat, and went and +sat out in the yard--under the stars--till them three gentlemen come. + +Them three gentlemen.... They talked wonderful. I have it all here in +my heart. + +Ay, it was rare and cold that night. Like now. Like it is now.... + +Wonderful. They was not common folk. They was like lords, they spoke +so fine. About my little lad. About you. + +And then, that other night, before you come. It was a kind of light: +it was a kind of glory. Like sunshine. I remember every word he said. +About you. About my little lad. + + _The agony begins to prick through again, stab by + stab, as she continues_; + +It was all promise in them days, all promise and hope. Like you was +to be somebody. Like you was to be a great man. I kept it inside of +me: I fed on it: day by day as you sprung up, I learned you about +it. You was to be no common man, you wasn’t. You was to lord it over +everybody. You was to be a master of men, you was. And now you’m dead. + +Oh!... Oh!... Oh me!... + +That day of the fairing, when we went up to the big city, your father +and me and yourself. The wide asking eyes of you, your little hand, +how it would go out so and so, your little tongue all a-clatter, the +ways, the wonderings of you, and the heartbreak, the heartbreak when +we had you lost. Talking to the good priests, you said. Good priests! +My God!... + +It began that day, that bitter day of the fairing when we went up to +the big city. I lost you then. I have lost you ever since. + +Oh, the big city, the cruel city, the city of men’s sin! Calling, +calling the sweet life of a man and swallowing him up in death. +There was no doing with you from that day. No home for you in the +little village from that day. Your father’s trade, your tasks, +your companions, all fell off from you that day. The city, the big +city called you, and the country thereabouts. It was your kingdom, +you said. You must find out and build your kingdom. And the people +thronged about you and followed you wherever you went in them days. +They hung upon your words: they worshipped you. In them days. It was +the way you had--your strange way. A power went out from you. You was +always like nobody else. A king! A king! It was me as put it first +into your head. You looked like a king. You spoke like a king. You +ruled like a king. You, the little peasant lad I bore. I never told +you: I never lifted up my hand to help you: I hindered you; but I was +proud of you, my lad, proud and ashamed, and afraid, too! And now +it’s too late. You’m dead. All come to nothing. You’m dead.... + +Dead. Killed by the soldiers and the judges of the great city. I’ll +tell them about it. I’ll go through all the earth telling about it. +Killed by the men you called your brothers. Killed by the children +of your kingdom. Killed, and the golden crown of your glory torn +off, battered, and cast to the ground. Beaten, mocked, murdered by +the mighty masters of the world. Hung up, high up in the air like a +thief. Broken and bleeding like a slaughtered beast. + + _She has come to the bottom of her grief. Her + voice dies away through strangled sobs into + silence._ + + _A pause._ + + _The_ CAPTAIN _rises. He halts irresolute for a + moment. Then he can be heard moving over to + where she lies prone on the ground._ + +CAPTAIN. Woman, will you let me speak to you? + +WOMAN. Who are you? + +CAPTAIN. I am the captain who spoke to you just now. I am in charge +here. I am the man who gave the order that killed your son. + +WOMAN. Ah!... + +CAPTAIN. Won’t you hear me? I must speak to you. + +WOMAN. What do you want to say? What is there for you to say? + +CAPTAIN. It is about myself.... I.... + +WOMAN. Go on. I’m listening. + +CAPTAIN. I am a murderer. I want you to forgive me. + + _She does not answer._ + +I did it. I did it with a word. It was like magic. One word, one +little word, and I was a murderer. There is nothing more terrible in +the world than to be a murderer.... + +And now I want you to forgive me. + + _She does not answer._ + +I suppose it’s impossible. Forgiveness is impossible for a wretch +like me. Because I killed him. + +For God’s sake, speak to me! + +WOMAN (_in a stupor_). I want to. I’m trying to. But you say you +killed my son. + +CAPTAIN. Oh!... + +WOMAN. Why did you do it? + +CAPTAIN. I did not know. Killing’s my trade. It was the only thing +they brought me up to do. + + _She does not answer._ + +I have been mixed up with it ever since I can remember. My father did +it before me. All my people did it. It is considered the thing--the +sort of thing a gentleman ought to do. They call it glory: they call +it honor; courage; patriotism. Great kings hold their thrones by it. +Great merchants get their beastly riches by it. Great empires are +built that way. + +WOMAN. By murder? + +CAPTAIN. By murder. By the blood of just men. Women and little +children too. + +WOMAN. What makes them do it? + +CAPTAIN. They want money. They want power. They want kingdom. They +want to possess the earth. + +WOMAN. And they have won. They have it. + +CAPTAIN. Have they? Not while your son hangs there. + + _She is bewildered._ + +WOMAN. What do you mean? My son.... My son is dead. + +CAPTAIN. Is he? Not while God is in Heaven. + +WOMAN. I don’t understand you. What were you saying yourself, just +now? On’y a little while ago I heard his blood dripping down here in +the darkness. The stones are dank with it. Not an hour ago. He’s +dead. + +CAPTAIN. He’s alive. + +WOMAN. Why do you mock me? You’m mad. Are you God, as you can kill +and make alive, all in one breath? + +CAPTAIN. He’s alive. I can’t kill him. All the empires can’t kill +him. How shall hate destroy the power that possesses and rules the +earth? + +WOMAN. The power that.... Who? + +CAPTAIN. This broken thing up here. Your son. + +WOMAN. My son, the power that.... + +CAPTAIN. Listen. I will tell you.... + +I am a soldier. I have been helping to build kingdoms for over twenty +years. I have never known any other trade. Soldiery, bloodshed, +murder: that’s my business. My hands are crimson with it. That’s what +empire means. + +In the city I come from, it is the chief concern of the people. +Building kingdoms, rule, empire. They’re proud of it. The little +children in the schools are drilled in obedience to it: they are +taught hymns in praise of it: they are brought up to reverence its +symbols. When they wave its standard above them, they shout, they +leap, they make wild and joyful noises; like animals, like wolves, +like little brute beasts. Children! Young children! Their parents +encourage them in it: it never occurs to them to feel ashamed: they +would be treated like lepers if they felt ashamed. That’s what empire +does to human beings in the city I come from. It springs from fear--a +peculiar kind of fear they call courage. + +And so we go on building our kingdoms--the kingdoms of this world. We +stretch out our hands, greedy, grasping, tyrannical, to possess the +earth. Domination, power, glory, money, merchandise, luxury, these +are the things we aim at; but what we really gain is pest and famine, +grudge labour, the enslaved hate of men and women, ghosts, dead +and death-breathing ghosts that haunt our lives forever. It can’t +last: it never has lasted, this building in blood and fear. Already +our kingdoms begin to totter. Possess the earth! We have lost it. +We never did possess it. We have lost both earth and ourselves in +trying to possess it; for the soul of the earth is man and the love +of him, and we have made of both, a desolation. + +I tell you, woman, this dead son of yours, disfigured, shamed, spat +upon, has built a kingdom this day that can never die. The living +glory of him rules it. The earth is _his_ and he made it. He and his +brothers have been moulding and making it through the long ages: they +are the only ones who ever really did possess it: not the proud: not +the idle, not the wealthy, not the vaunting empires of the world. +Something has happened up here on this hill to-day to shake all our +kingdoms of blood and fear to the dust. The earth is his, the earth +is theirs, and they made it. The meek, the terrible meek, the fierce +agonizing meek, are about to enter into their inheritance. + + _There is a deep, solemn silence for a moment or + two, broken only by the tinkle of sheep-bells, + which are gradually approaching._ + +WOMAN. Then it was not all wasted. It was the truth, that night. I +have borne a Man. + +CAPTAIN. A man and more than a man. A King. + +WOMAN. My peasant lad, a king: Yes. And more yet. He was what he said +he was. He was God’s Son. + +CAPTAIN. It will take a new kind of soldier to serve in his kingdom. +A new kind of duty. + +WOMAN. A newer courage. More like woman’s. Dealing with life, not +death. + +CAPTAIN. It changes everything. + +WOMAN. It puts them back again. What he done, puts all things back +again, where they belong. + +CAPTAIN. I can see the end of war in this: some day. + +WOMAN. I can see the joy of women and little children: some day. + +CAPTAIN. I can see cities and great spaces of land full of happiness. + +WOMAN. I can see love shining in every face. + +CAPTAIN. There shall be no more sin, no pain.... + +WOMAN. No loss, no death.... + +CAPTAIN. Only life, only God.... + +WOMAN. And the kingdom of my Son.... + +CAPTAIN. Some day. + +WOMAN. When the world shall have learned. + +CAPTAIN. Mother!... I am a murderer!... + +WOMAN. I have been with Child. I forgive you. + + _It grows a little lighter._ + + _Some one is heard stumbling blindly over the + hill. It is the_ SOLDIER. _His form emerges + gray out of the gloom._ + +SOLDIER. ’Ello! Are you there, Captain? + +CAPTAIN. Yes. I’m here. + +SOLDIER. The fog’s liftin’ dahn below there--liftin’ fast. It’ll soon +be up orf this ’ill, thank Gawd! + +The General wants ter see you, sir. + +CAPTAIN. What does he want with me? Do you know? + +SOLDIER. Another of these ’ere bleedin’ jobs, I think, sir. Been a +bit of a disturbance dahn in the tahn. The boys ’ave their orders, +sir. General wants you ter take command. + +CAPTAIN. Tell him I refuse to come. + +SOLDIER. Beg pawdon, sir.... + +CAPTAIN. I refuse to come. I disobey. + +SOLDIER. I don’t think I quite ’eard, sir. + +CAPTAIN. I disobey. I have sworn duty to another General. I serve the +Empire no longer. + +SOLDIER. Beg pawdon, sir, it’s not for the likes of me; but.... Well, +you know wot that means. + +CAPTAIN. Perfectly. It means what you call death. Tell the General. + +SOLDIER. Tell ’im as you refuse to obey orders, sir? + +CAPTAIN. His: yes. (_Half to himself_); How simple it all is, after +all. + +SOLDIER (_after a moment_); I’m sorry, Captain. + +CAPTAIN. Thank you, brother. + + _The_ SOLDIER _has no word to say_. + + _The darkness is rapidly melting away. All three + figures are now beginning to be seen quite + clearly._ + +SOLDIER. Look sir, wot did I tell yer? It’s comin’ light again. + +CAPTAIN. Eternally. + + _An unearthly splendour fills the place. It is + seen to be the top of a bleak stony hill with + little grass to it._ + + _The_ WOMAN _is dressed in Eastern garments; the_ + CAPTAIN _is a Roman centurion; the_ SOLDIER, + _a Roman legionary. Above them rise three + gaunt crosses bearing three dead men gibbeted + like thieves._ + + _At the foot of the crosses a flock of sheep + nibble peacefully at the grass. The air is + filled with the sound of their little bells._ + + + CURTAIN + + + + +TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE: + +Words and phrases in italics are surrounded by underscores, _like +this_. Words may have multiple spelling variations in the text. These +were left unchanged. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78768 *** diff --git a/78768-h/78768-h.htm b/78768-h/78768-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5fbc435 --- /dev/null +++ b/78768-h/78768-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1622 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <meta name="format-detection" content="telephone=no,date=no,address=no,email=no,url=no"> + <title> + The Terrible Meek | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} +h1,h2,h3 { + clear: both; +} +h1 { margin: 1em 5% 1em; + text-align: center; + font-size: 180%;} +h2 { margin:2em 5% 1em; + text-align: center; + font-size: 160%;} +h3 { margin: 2em 5% 1em; + text-align: center; + font-size: 130%;} +.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} /* use with h2 for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; + margin-top: 4em;} + +p { text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-top: .5em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .5em; + line-height: 135%;} +.unindent {text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em;} +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.right {text-align: right;} +.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} +.right {text-align: right;} +p.hanging {margin-left: 1.5em; + text-indent: -1.5em;} +.rightblock {text-align:right; margin-left: 30%;} +.tall {line-height: 135%;} +em {font-style: italic;} +.small {font-size: 90%;} +.smaller {font-size: 83%;} +.muchsmaller {font-size: 75%;} +.xxs {font-size: 65%;} +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} +.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} +.ls {letter-spacing: .25em; + margin-right: -0.25em;} +.tall {line-height: 150%;} +.sansserif {font-family: sans-serif;} + +hr { + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} +hr.short {width: 10%; margin-left: 45%; margin-right: 45%;} +hr.medium {width: 20%; margin: .5em 40%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin: 2em 17.5%;} + +ul { list-style-type: none; } +li.ifrst { + margin-top: 1em; + text-indent: -1em; + padding-left: 2em; +} +li.isub1 { + text-indent: -2em; + padding-left: 5em; + font-size: 92%; +} +li.isub2 { + text-indent: -2em; + padding-left: 6em; + font-size: 85%; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} /* page numbers */ + +blockquote { + margin-top: 0; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +figcaption {font-weight: normal;} +figcaption p {margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: .2em; text-align: inherit;} + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} +img.w100 {width: 100%;} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:small; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; +} + +a { border:none; text-decoration:none; font-variant:normal; } +abbr { border:none; text-decoration:none; font-variant:normal; } + +.linebox {border-top-style:double; border-top-width:thick; + border-bottom-style:double; border-bottom-width:thick; + margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; + text-align: center;} + +.box {border: solid .1em; + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 5%; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: 2em; + padding-right: 2em;} + +.illowp20 {width: 20%;} +.illowp55 {width: 55%;} + </style> + </head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78768 ***</div> + + + +<figure class="figcenter illowp55" id="frontis" style="max-width: 46.4375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/frontis.jpg" alt="Photo of the face of a woman, lit from the side; she wear a cloth head covering and holds her right hand at her throat. Darkness enshrouds the image."> + <figcaption><br> + <p class="p2 sansserif right"><span class="small ls">THE PEASANT WOMAN</span><br> + <span class="smaller">EDITH WYNNE MATTHISON</span><br> + <span class="xxs">FROM PHOTOGRAPH BY ALICE BOUGHTON</span></p> + </figcaption> +</figure> +<hr aria-hidden="true" class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter box"> +<h1> +THE<br> +TERRIBLE MEEK +</h1> + +<p class="center allsmcap">A ONE-ACT STAGE PLAY FOR THREE<br> +VOICES: TO BE PLAYED IN DARKNESS</p> + +<p class="p2 center x-ebookmaker-important"><span class="allsmcap">BY</span><br> +CHARLES RANN KENNEDY<br> +<span class="muchsmaller">AUTHOR OF +“THE SERVANT IN THE HOUSE”</span></p> + +<p class="p2 center">“<i>For they shall inherit the earth</i>”</p> +<br> +<figure class="figcenter illowp20" id="colophon" style="max-width: 2.5em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/colophon.jpg" alt="Publisher's colophon. Inside an oval laurel wreath, a hand holdng a torch extends from the left. From the right, an open hand extends to accept the torch. Four words in Greek, ΛΑΜΩΑΔΙΑ ΕΧΟΝΤΕΣ ΔΙΑΔΩΣΟΥΣΙΝ ΑΛΛΗΛΟΙΣ, are in the background."> +</figure> +<br> +<p class="center">HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS<br> +<span class="allsmcap">NEW YORK AND LONDON</span></p> +</div><!--end chapter and box--> + +<hr aria-hidden="true" class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter linebox"> +<p class="center muchsmaller"> +ALL STAGE, RECITATION, PUBLICATION, TRANSLATION<br> +AND OTHER RIGHTS RESERVED. APPLICATION<br> +SHOULD BE MADE TO MESSRS. HARPER & BROTHERS +</p> +</div> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center"> +<span class="smcap">Books by</span><br> +CHARLES RANN KENNEDY</p> +<hr class="short"> +</div> + +<ul> +<li class="ifrst">SEVEN PLAYS FOR SEVEN PLAYERS</li> + <li class="isub1"><i>Volumes now ready</i>:</li> + <li class="isub2">THE WINTERFEAST</li> + <li class="isub2">THE SERVANT IN THE HOUSE</li> + <li class="isub2">THE IDOL-BREAKER</li> + <li class="isub2">THE RIB OF THE MAN</li> +<li class="ifrst">SHORTER PLAYS FOR SMALL CASTS</li> + <li class="isub1"><i>Volumes now ready</i>:</li> + <li class="isub2">THE TERRIBLE MEEK</li> + <li class="isub2">THE NECESSARY EVIL</li> +</ul> +<hr class="short"> + +<p class="center"> +HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK<br> +<br> +<br> +<span class="muchsmaller">COPYRIGHT, 1912. BY CHARLES RANN KENNEDY</span></p> +<hr class="medium"> +<p class="center muchsmaller">PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA +</p> + +<hr aria-hidden="true" class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center sansserif tall"> +TO<br> +<strong>MY MOTHER</strong></p> + +<p class="center sansserif"><span class="muchsmaller">A NEWER COURAGE. MORE LIKE<br> +WOMAN’S. DEALING WITH LIFE, NOT<br> +DEATH. IT CHANGES EVERYTHING</span> +</p> +</div> + +<hr aria-hidden="true" class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center"> +PERSONS OF THE PLAY<br><br> +<span class="muchsmaller">A PEASANT WOMAN<br> +AN ARMY CAPTAIN<br> +A SOLDIER</span><br> +<br> +<br> +THE TIME<br><br> +<span class="muchsmaller">A TIME OF DARKNESS</span><br> +<br> +<br> +THE PLACE<br><br> +<span class="muchsmaller">A WIND-SWEPT HILL</span> +</p> +</div> +<hr aria-hidden="true" class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_TERRIBLE_MEEK"> + THE TERRIBLE MEEK + </h2> +</div> +<hr aria-hidden="true" class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1"></span></p> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_TERRIBLE_MEEK_1"> + THE TERRIBLE MEEK + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="hanging"><i>Before the curtain rises, a bell from some distant +place of worship tolls the hour. Nine brazen notes, +far off, out of tune. Then a heavy peal of thunder, +and the sharp, cracking strike of a bolt; yet, above +all, one other sound, more piercing—a strange, +unearthly Cry. There follows a mighty howling of +wind, blended with a confused clamour of voices and +the hurrying of many feet. The noises have almost +all died away, when the Curtain rises upon inky +darkness.</i></p> + +<p class="hanging"><i>A sudden hush. The silence deepens. There is a +sense of moorlands and desolate places.</i></p> + +<p class="hanging"><i>Far off, a cow lows in her stall. Some lost sheep down +in the valley bleats dismally. Silence again.</i></p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>It is broken by the Voice of a Woman, +weeping bitterly.</i> <span class="smcap">A Peasant Woman.</span></p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> Oh!...</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>Another Voice: the gentlemanly, well-bred +voice of an army man, now under +some stress of emotion.</i> <span class="smcap">A Captain.</span></p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> My God, this is awful. I can’t stand it.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> Oh!...</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Come, my good woman, it’s all over +now. There’s no earthly help for it. You can’t +remain here, you know.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> Leave me be. Leave me be.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> All the others left long ago. They hurried +off home the moment—the moment the storm +came....</p> + +<p>Come, it’s bleak and quite too dreadful for you up +on this hill. Let me send you back to the town with +one of the soldiers.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> One of the—soldiers!...</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Yes: come, come now....</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> Leave me be. Don’t touch me. There’s +the smell of death on you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Well, since you.... And, after all....</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>The clank and rattle of his sword and +uniform mark his moving away. He +sits.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>The smell of death. My God, it’s true.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>A bitter wind comes soughing up from +the valley. The sheep bleats once, +piteously. Then all is quiet again.</i></p> + +<p class="hanging"><i>Some one else is coming. He is heard +stumbling blindly up over the hill, the +steel butt of his weapon ringing among +the stones.</i> <span class="smcap">A Soldier.</span></p> + +<p class="hanging"><i>Groping in darkness, he collides suddenly +with the</i> <span class="smcap">Captain</span>. <i>His Voice +is that of a common man, city-bred</i>;</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Gawd blimey, wot the ’ell....</p> + +<p>Oh, beg pawdon, sir. Didn’t know it was you, +Captain.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_4"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> That’s all right, sentry.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> ’Pon my word, sir, you give me a start, +fust go orf. Wot with the storm an’ the darkness, +an’ this ’ere little job we been doin’, I tek my oath +I thought for a moment as you was ... well, summat +else.</p> + +<p>Wasn’t quite a nice thing wot ’appened up ’ere +just nah, sir, was it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> It wasn’t.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> I’m on guard myself, sir; or I don’t +know as I’d ’a’ come up, not for choice.</p> + +<p>You bin ’ere all the time, Captain?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Have I? Yes, I suppose I have. I’ve +been here ... ever since.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> It’s not exackly the place ter spend a +pleasant arternoon, is it, sir?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> No, I suppose not.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> O’ course, there’s company, as you +might say; but not quite congenial company, eh wot?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> That depends entirely upon the point +of view.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Dam’ creepy, I call it!...</p> + +<p>Well, we done for <em>’im</em> good an’ proper, any’ah.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> My God, yes. We builders of empire +know how to do our business.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Pretty bloody business, too, ain’t it, sir?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Yes, that’s the word.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>They consider it for a moment. Presently +the</i> <span class="smcap">Soldier</span> <i>laughs at some +amusing recollection</i>;</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> It’s an ill wind wot blows nobody +any good. <em>I</em> got summat aht o’ this, orl said an’ +done.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> What’s that?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> I got some of ’is togs.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> His togs. How do you mean?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_6"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Why, I’ll tell yer. <em>’E</em> didn’t want no +more togs, not the way ’e was goin’; nah did ’e? So +me an’ the boys, we got our ’eds together, and arter +we’d undressed ’im an’ put ’im to bed, so to speak, we +pitched an’ tossed for the ’ole bag lot, one by one, till +they was orl bloomin’ well divided aht. I got ’is boots.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> You got his boots, did you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Yes, pore devil. <em>’E</em> don’t want them +no more. Not quite my fit; but they’ll do to tek +’ome for a keepsake—that is, if we ever do get ’ome +aht of this ’ere stinkin’ ’ole. My little missis ’ll +think a lot of them boots.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> They will be a pleasant memento.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Just wot <em>I</em> say, sir. Oh, my missis, she +got an ’oly nose for ’orrors: she reely ’ave. Tellin’ +abaht them boots ’ll last ’er a lifetime.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> She must be an attractive young woman, +your—missis.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Oh no, sir, just ordinary, just ordinary. +Suits <em>me</em>, orl right....</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7"></span></p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>Some memory holds him for a moment</i>;</p> +</div> + +<p>Funny thing, Captain, ’ow this ’ere foreign service +keeps you—well, sort of thinkin’, don’t it? S’pose +it’s the lonely nights an’ the long sentry duties an’ +such like....</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> You’ve felt that too, then, have you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Yessir; meks me think abaht my missis. +’Er was in the family way when I left ’ome, +sir—expectin’ just a couple of month arter I +sailed....</p> + +<p>The little beggar ’ll be gettin’ on by nah—that is, +if ’e come orl right.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> You’ve made up your mind for a boy +then, eh?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> She allus ’oped for a boy, sir. Women’s +like that. S’pose it’s orl right; it’s men wot’s wanted +these days, wot with the Army an’ the Spread of Empire +an’ orl that.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Yes, they make better killing.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8"></span></p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Soldier</span> <i>is rather stupid, or he +would have laughed. He goes on</i>;</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Yessir, ’er’s bin ’ankerin’ arter a kid +ever since we was married six year ago; but some-’ow +or other it never seemed to come orf. ’Ealthy +woman, too, sir. <em>You</em> unnerstand ’ow these things +is, Captain: there’s no tellin’. Little beggars come +by guess an’ by Gawd, it seems to me....</p> + +<p>I wonder if it’s a boy. There’s no gettin’ no news +aht in this blarsted....</p> + +<p>Good Gawd, wot’s that?...</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> What?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Be’ind us. Summat sort of.... There, +’ark!</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Woman’s</span> <i>Voice rises, sighing like +wind</i>;</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> Oh!...</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> My Gawd, wot is it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> It’s a woman.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> A woman! Up <em>’ere</em>?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> She has every right to be here. This +is her place.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> But does she know? Does she know +wot’s ... danglin’ up yonder, over ’er ’ed?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> She knows more than we do. She belongs +to him. She is his mother.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> ’Is mother!...</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Yes, he was her baby once.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Soldier</span> <i>is affected by this. He +speaks with real compassion</i>;</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Pore devil!</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>Their minds go wandering through +many troubled by-paths of thought. +Presently the</i> <span class="smcap">Soldier</span> <i>speaks again</i>;</p> +</div> + +<p>Wot was it ’e done, Captain?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Don’t you know?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Not exackly. I got enough to look +arter with my drills an’ vittles withaht messin’ +abaht with politics an’ these ’ere funny foreign +religions.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> And yet you, if I mistake not, were one +of the four men told off to do the job.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Well, I ’ope I know my duty, sir. I +on’y obeyed orders. Come to that, sir, arskin’ +your pawdon, it was you as give them orders. I +s’pose <em>you</em> knew orl right wot it was ’e done?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> No, I don’t know exactly, either. I +am only just beginning to find out. We both did +our duty, as you call it, in blindness.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> That’s strange langwidge to be comin’ +from <em>your</em> lips, Captain.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Strange thoughts have been coming to +me during the last six hours.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> It’s difficult to know wot’s wot in these +outlandish places. It’s not like at ’ome, sir, where +there’s Law an’ Order an’ Patriotism an’ Gawd’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11"></span>Own True Religion. These blarsted ’eathens got +no gratitude. ’Ere’s the Empire sweatin’ ’er guts +aht, tryin’ ter knock some sense inter their dam’ +silly ’eds; an’ wot do you get aht of it, orl said an’ +done? Nuthin’! Nuthin’ but a lot of ingratitude, +’ard words, insurrections, an’ every nah an’ then a +bloody example like this ’ere to-day! Oh, these +foreigners mek me sick, they do reely!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Yes, perhaps that has been the real +mistake all along.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Wot ’as, Captain?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Taking these people—men like this one, +for instance—for foreigners.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Well, you’ll excuse me, sir, but wot the +’ell else are they?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> I’m not quite sure; but supposing +they were more nearly related? Supposing, after +all, they happened to be made of the same +flesh and blood as you and me? Supposing they +were men? Supposing, even, they were—brothers?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Brothers! Why, that’s exackly wot ’e +used ter say—’im up there....</p> + +<p>Did you ever ’ear ’im, sir?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Once. Did you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Once.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>They remain silent for a little.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>It was politics when I ’eard ’im. On’y it sahnded +more like some rummy religion.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> When I heard him it was religion—sounding +curiously like politics.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Them two things don’t ’ardly seem to +go together, do they, sir?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> They don’t. Perhaps they ought to.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> I don’t know. Seems to ’ave led <em>’im</em> +into a pretty mess....</p> + +<p>It’s a queer world!...</p> + +<p>I wonder wot it was ’e reely done.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> It’s rather late in the day for us to +be considering that, seeing what we have done, +isn’t it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Well, I don’t know. P’r’aps it’s funny +of me, but I never done a job like this yet withaht +thinkin’ abaht it arterwards.... An’ I done a few of +’em, too.</p> + +<p>If you arsk me, sir, it was them—well, them long-faced +old jossers dahn there as begun the ’ole +beastly business. You know ’oo I mean.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Yes, I know whom you mean. But +haven’t they a name?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Well, I ’ardly know <em>wot</em> ter call them, +sir. They’re like a lot of old washerwomen. Allus +jawin’. We got nuthin’ exackly like that sort at +’ome, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Oh, I don’t know that there’s all that +difference.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> They was allus naggin’ the pore fellow, +one way an’ another. Couldn’t leave ’im alone. +They started the ’ole business.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Why, what fault did they find with +him? What was it they said he did?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> It wasn’t nuthin’ ’e done, far as I could +mek aht. It was summat as ’e said, wot riled them.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Something he said?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Yes, summat ’orrible; that’s wot they +said. Summat too bad ter be spoken, summat they +wasn’t a-goin’ ter stand from anybody. Least, that’s +wot I ’eard....</p> + +<p>Wasn’t so very ’orrible, neither. Not ter me. +Sahnded a bit mad, that’s orl.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Oh, then you know what it was?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Yessir. They ’ad a name for it, too: +on’y I can’t quite remember. One of them big jaw-crackers, +you unnerstand. Seems a bit orf for a +bloke ter come ter this, just for usin’ a few words.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> There is great power in words. All the +things that ever get done in the world, good or bad, +are done by words.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Well, there’s summat in that, too. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15"></span>On’y this thing ’e said—blimey, it was nuthin’! +There ain’t a loony alive wot doesn’t say the same +thing ’e said, an’ more, a thahsand times a day, +when ’e’s reel bad in ’is ’ead. At the most, it sahnded +like a bit of langwidge, that’s orl.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> And <em>you</em> don’t mind that, do you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Me? ’E could ’a’ done it till ’e was blue +in the face an’ welcome, far as I’d care.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> You yourself, of course, had nothing at +all against him? Nothing personal, nothing political, +I mean. No more than I had.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Lor’ bless you, no, sir. Rawther liked +’im, the bit I saw of ’im.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Only they—the long-faced gentlemen—found +him guilty. So, of course, they had to hand +him over to the magistrate.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Yes, blarst them. What did they want +ter go an’ do that for?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> It was perhaps their—duty, don’t you +see?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier</span> (<i>taken aback on the sacred word</i>). Oh, +was it? Well, since you put it in that way, o’ +course....</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Then, again, came the magistrate’s duty. +I suppose he found he had some duty in the matter? +Did <em>he</em> very much object to this horrible thing that +had been said?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Not much! ’E ain’t that sort, not this +fellow!...</p> + +<p>That’s the funny thing abaht it. Far as I could +’ear, there weren’t no mention of that, by the time the +case come into ’is ’ands. No, it was riotin’ an’ +stirrin’ people up agen the government, as ’e on’y ’ad +ter deal with.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Was that charge proved against the +prisoner?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> They ’ad witnesses, I suppose. On’y +you know wot witnesses are, in a case like this, sir. +Got their orders, you unnerstand.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> And, of course, they all did their duty. +That sacred obligation was attended to. They obeyed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> I don’t know. Don’t arsk me. I know +nuthin’ abaht it.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>He is a little nettled at the turn the conversation +is taking.</i></p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Was there no one, from among all those +crowds that followed him, to stand up and say a +word for him?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Well, wot do <em>you</em> think? Them greasy +blighters! You saw ’ow they be’aved just nah, +when we done the job.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> <em>Their</em> duty, as voicers of public opinion, +I suppose.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier</span> (<i>sullenly</i>). I don’t know.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Had they any very strong feelings +against this monstrous thing he said? Were they +so stirred with affection for the government? Or +didn’t their duty cover those unessential points?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> I don’t know.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Well then, this magistrate? Having +examined this poor wretch in the presence of all that +exemplary, patriotic, obedient mob of people, he soon +found out where <em>his</em> duty lay? It was his duty to +hand him over to us—to you and me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier</span> (<i>shortly</i>). Yessir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain</span> (<i>insisting</i>). To you and me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> I said, Yessir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Whereupon, though we were practically +ignorant as to the charge upon which this man was +convicted: though we had grave doubts as to +whether he were guilty at all; and while it is perfectly +certain that we had nothing against him personally, +that we even liked him, sympathized with him, pitied +him: it became <em>our</em> duty, our sworn, our sacred duty, +to do to him—the terrible thing we did just now.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> I can’t see wot you’re drivin’ at, sir. +You wouldn’t ’ave a man go agen ’is duty, would +you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> I’m trying to make up my mind. I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19"></span>don’t know. I’m blind. I don’t think I know what +duty is.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> It’s perfectly plain, sir. Arter all, duty +<em>is</em> duty, ain’t it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Yes, it doesn’t seem to be very much +else.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> ’Ow do you mean, sir?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Well, for instance, it doesn’t seem to be +love or neighborliness or pity or understanding or anything +that comes out hot and fierce from the heart +of a man. Duty! Duty! We talk of duty! What +sort of devil’s duties are there in the world, do you +think, when they lead blindly, wantonly, wickedly, +to the murder of such a man as this!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Well, far as I’m concerned, I on’y +obeyed my orders.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Orders! Obeyed orders!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Well, sir, it was you as give them to +me.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Good God, man, why didn’t you strike +me in the blasphemous teeth, the hour I gave them?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Me, sir? Strike my superior orficer!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> You struck this defenceless man. You +had no scruples about his superiority. You struck +him to the death.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier</span> (<i>hotly</i>). I on’y did my duty!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> We have murdered our brother. We +have destroyed a woman’s child.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> I on’y obeyed my orders. When my +superior orficer says, <cite>Kill a man</cite>, why, I just kill ’im, +that’s orl. O’ course I kill ’im. Wot’s a soldier for? +That’s duty! (<i>With sudden lust.</i>) Blood an’ ’ell! +I’d kill ’im soon as look at ’im, yes, I would, if ’e +was Gawd aht of ’Eaven, ’Imself!...</p> + +<p>Not as I ’ave anythin’ personal agen this pore +devil. On’y I <em>do</em> know my duty.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>They are silent for a little while. Then +the</i> <span class="smcap">Soldier</span>, <i>feeling that he has gone +too far, begins assuaging the situation</i>;</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21"></span></p> + +<p>There’s one thing certain: it’s no use cryin’ over +spilt milk. ’E’s dead an’ done for nah, wotever +comes. Dead as a door-nail, pore cuss.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Captain</span>, <i>who has risen during his +excitement, now sits down again. +His sword clatters against a boulder.</i></p> + +<p class="hanging"><i>A pause.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>’E ain’t the fust man I done for, neither; an’ I +bet ’e won’t be the last. Not by a long way.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>He speaks in an aggrieved tone. It is +the way in which shame comes to a +soldier.</i></p> + +<p class="hanging"><i>A pause.</i></p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain</span> (<i>deeply</i>). So you think he is dead, do +you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Well, wot do <em>you</em> think? A man don’t +live forever, ’ung up as ’igh as we got ’im yonder. +Besides, we did a bit of business with ’is vital parts, +arter we’d got ’im up there.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> And all that, you think, means—death.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Well, don’t it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> That’s what I’m wondering.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Six hours, mind you. It’s a long time.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> There is something mightier than time.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Well, they don’t supply little boys’ playthings, +not from our War Office. One of these ’ere +beauties....</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>He rattles his weapon in the darkness +and continues</i>;</p> +</div> + +<p class="unindent">... when they <em>do</em> start business, generally touch the +spot.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> It would have to reach very far, to +touch—this man’s life.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Nah, wotever do you mean, Captain?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> I mean that life is a terrible, a wonderful +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23"></span>thing. You can’t kill it. All the soldiers in the +world, with all their hate, can’t kill it. It comes +back, it can’t die, it rises again.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Good Gawd, Captain, don’t you talk +like that!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Why, what are you afraid of? We +have shown great courage to-day, you and I. Soldiers +should be brave, you know.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> That’s orl very well, when it’s a matter +of plain flesh an’ blood; but Lor’! Ghosts!...</p> + +<p>Do you believe in them, sir?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> What?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Ghosts.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Yes. It came to me to-day.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier</span> (<i>slowly</i>). If I believed there was reely +ghosts abaht....</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> They are the only realities. Two of +them ought to be especially important to you and +me just now.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_24"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Two? Blimey! ’Oose?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Why, yours, man, and mine. Our +ghosts. Our immortal ghosts. This deed of ours +to-day should make us think of them forever.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Yours an’ mine? I didn’t know we ’ad +ghosts, you an’ me.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> It makes a difference, doesn’t it? There +have been millions of our sort in the long history of +the world. I wonder how many more millions there +will be in the years to come. Blind, dutiful, bloody-handed: +murderers, all of us. A soldier’s ghost must +be a pitiable thing to see.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>The cloudy darkness slightly lifts from +the ground. Their forms can be +dimly discerned—vague shadows upon +a deeper gloom. Up above there still +dwells impenetrable night.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>Tell me, brother murderer, have you ever prayed?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Me, sir?... (<i>Ashamed.</i>) Well, sir, nah +you arsk me, yes I ’ave—once.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> When was that?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Why, sir, abaht a couple of month arter +I set sail for this blarsted little ’ole.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> I understand. You prayed then for the +birth of an innocent child?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Yessir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> You will have need to pray again to-night. +Both of us will have need. This time for +the death of an innocent man.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Soldier</span> <i>is embarrassed. He does +not know what to say. Something +about “duty” comes into his head; +but somehow it seems inappropriate.</i></p> + +<p class="hanging"><i>A brighter thought occurs to him</i>;</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Well, it’s time I was dahn yonder, +lookin’ arter the boys. Any orders, sir?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Orders? No, no more—orders.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Orl right, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_26"></span></p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>There is heard the rattle of his salute, +and the dying away of his footsteps, as +he stumbles blindly up and over the +hill.</i></p> + +<p class="hanging"><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Captain</span> <i>does not speak until all is +still again</i>.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> My God! My God! Oh, my God!</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>He buries his face in the dirt and +stones.</i></p> + +<p class="hanging"><i>The faintest moaning of wind. The +sheep bleats. A dog, disturbed by the +sound, barks, far off. Then there is +a deep silence, lasting one minute.</i></p> + +<p class="hanging"><i>The Voice of the</i> <span class="smcap">Peasant Woman</span> <i>is +heard, speaking at first in dull, dead +tones, very slowly</i>;</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> Thirty-three year ago he was my baby. +I bore him. I warmed him: washed, dressed him: +fended for him. I fed his little mouth with milk. +Thirty-three year ago. And now he’s dead.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27"></span></p> + +<p>Dead, that’s what he is. Dead. Hung up in the +air like a thief: broken and bleeding like a slaughtered +beast. All the life gone out of him. And I’m his +mother.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>A gray, misty light creeps over her face +and hands. Moment by moment, her +features limn out faintly through the +darkness, one pale agony.</i></p> + +<p class="hanging"><i>Her garments still blend with the general +gloom.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>That’s what they done to my son. Killed him +like a beast. Respectable people, they was. Priests, +judges, soldiers, gentlemen: even common folk like +me. <em>They</em> done it. And now he’s dead.</p> + +<p>He didn’t hold with their kind, my son. He was +always telling them about it. He would stand up +open in the market-place, at the street corners, even +in the House of God itself, and tell them about it. +That’s why they killed him.</p> + +<p>He had a strange way with him, my son: always +had, from the day he first come. His eyes.... They +was wonderful. They held folk. That and his +tongue and his tender, pitiful heart.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28"></span></p> + +<p>They didn’t understand it down here. None of +us understood it. We was blind—even me. Many +a time I got in his way and tried to hinder him: I +was afraid for him, ashamed. And then he’d look +at me....</p> + +<p>They was always wonderful, his eyes.</p> + +<p>He wasn’t particular, my son. He would go with +anybody. He loved them so. There wasn’t a +drunken bibber in the place, not a lozel, not a thief, +not a loose woman on the streets, but called him +brother. He would eat with them, drink with them, +go to their parties. He would go with grand folk, +too: gentlemen. He wasn’t particular: he would +go with anybody.</p> + +<p>And I tried to hinder him: I got in his way, because +I was ashamed. I kept pushing in. I was +afraid of what the people might think. Like I was +blind. Like I didn’t understand. I never told him +as I understood. And now it’s too late. He’s +dead.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>A gust of anguish takes her, overwhelming +her</i>;</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29"></span></p> + +<p>Oh, my son, my own son, child of my sorrow, my +lad, come back to me! It’s me, it’s your mother, calling +to you. Cannot you hear me out of the lone +waste and the darkness yonder? My lad, come +back, come back to me!...</p> + +<p>He’s gone. I shall never know the touch and the +healing gladness of him again, my son, my little +lad.... Hark!...</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>The wind rises and falls away like a +whisper.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>On’y the wind blowing up over the moors. God’s +breath, men call it. Ah! It strikes chill to the +bones....</p> + +<p>Is it cold you are, my lad? I cannot reach you +yonder—on’y your feet, your poor broken feet and +the ankles hanging limp toward me. My bosom +warms and waits for you, hungering, yearning like +the day I bare you; but I cannot get up to you: I +am cramped and cold and beaten: I cannot reach you +yonder....</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>There is heard a low fluttering as of +wings</i>;</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30"></span></p> + +<p>The night-birds and the bats may come anigh +you, they with their black wings; but not your +mother, the mother that gave you life, the mother +that held you warm, my son, my son, my little cold +lad.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>Her speech breaks away into sobs for +a little while. As she recovers, she +goes into a dazed dream of memories</i>;</p> +</div> + +<p>That was a cold night, too—the night you was +born, way out in the country yonder, in the barn +with them beasties. My man, he was sore about it. +He covered us over with his great wool coat, and +went and sat out in the yard—under the stars—till +them three gentlemen come.</p> + +<p>Them three gentlemen.... They talked wonderful. +I have it all here in my heart.</p> + +<p>Ay, it was rare and cold that night. Like now. +Like it is now....</p> + +<p>Wonderful. They was not common folk. They +was like lords, they spoke so fine. About my little +lad. About you.</p> + +<p>And then, that other night, before you come. It +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31"></span>was a kind of light: it was a kind of glory. Like +sunshine. I remember every word he said. About +you. About my little lad.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>The agony begins to prick through +again, stab by stab, as she continues</i>;</p> +</div> + +<p>It was all promise in them days, all promise and +hope. Like you was to be somebody. Like you +was to be a great man. I kept it inside of me: I +fed on it: day by day as you sprung up, I learned +you about it. You was to be no common man, you +wasn’t. You was to lord it over everybody. You +was to be a master of men, you was. And now +you’m dead.</p> + +<p>Oh!... Oh!... Oh me!...</p> + +<p>That day of the fairing, when we went up to the +big city, your father and me and yourself. The wide +asking eyes of you, your little hand, how it would +go out so and so, your little tongue all a-clatter, the +ways, the wonderings of you, and the heartbreak, +the heartbreak when we had you lost. Talking to +the good priests, you said. Good priests! My +God!...</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_32"></span></p> + +<p>It began that day, that bitter day of the fairing +when we went up to the big city. I lost you then. +I have lost you ever since.</p> + +<p>Oh, the big city, the cruel city, the city of men’s +sin! Calling, calling the sweet life of a man and +swallowing him up in death. There was no doing +with you from that day. No home for you in the +little village from that day. Your father’s trade, +your tasks, your companions, all fell off from you +that day. The city, the big city called you, and +the country thereabouts. It was your kingdom, you +said. You must find out and build your kingdom. +And the people thronged about you and followed +you wherever you went in them days. They hung +upon your words: they worshipped you. In them +days. It was the way you had—your strange way. +A power went out from you. You was always like +nobody else. A king! A king! It was me as put +it first into your head. You looked like a king. +You spoke like a king. You ruled like a king. You, +the little peasant lad I bore. I never told you: I +never lifted up my hand to help you: I hindered +you; but I was proud of you, my lad, proud and +ashamed, and afraid, too! And now it’s too late. +You’m dead. All come to nothing. You’m dead....</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33"></span></p> + +<p>Dead. Killed by the soldiers and the judges of +the great city. I’ll tell them about it. I’ll go +through all the earth telling about it. Killed by the +men you called your brothers. Killed by the children +of your kingdom. Killed, and the golden +crown of your glory torn off, battered, and cast to +the ground. Beaten, mocked, murdered by the +mighty masters of the world. Hung up, high up +in the air like a thief. Broken and bleeding like a +slaughtered beast.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>She has come to the bottom of her grief. +Her voice dies away through strangled +sobs into silence.</i></p> + +<p class="hanging"><i>A pause.</i></p> + +<p class="hanging"><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Captain</span> <i>rises. He halts irresolute +for a moment. Then he can be +heard moving over to where she lies +prone on the ground.</i></p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Woman, will you let me speak to +you?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> Who are you?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> I am the captain who spoke to you just +now. I am in charge here. I am the man who +gave the order that killed your son.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> Ah!...</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Won’t you hear me? I must speak to +you.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> What do you want to say? What is +there for you to say?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> It is about myself.... I....</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> Go on. I’m listening.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> I am a murderer. I want you to forgive +me.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>She does not answer.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>I did it. I did it with a word. It was like magic. +One word, one little word, and I was a murderer. +There is nothing more terrible in the world than to +be a murderer....</p> + +<p>And now I want you to forgive me.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35"></span></p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>She does not answer.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>I suppose it’s impossible. Forgiveness is impossible +for a wretch like me. Because I killed him.</p> + +<p>For God’s sake, speak to me!</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman</span> (<i>in a stupor</i>). I want to. I’m trying to. +But you say you killed my son.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Oh!...</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> Why did you do it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> I did not know. Killing’s my trade. +It was the only thing they brought me up to do.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>She does not answer.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>I have been mixed up with it ever since I can remember. +My father did it before me. All my people +did it. It is considered the thing—the sort of +thing a gentleman ought to do. They call it glory: +they call it honor; courage; patriotism. Great +kings hold their thrones by it. Great merchants +get their beastly riches by it. Great empires are +built that way.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> By murder?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> By murder. By the blood of just men. +Women and little children too.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> What makes them do it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> They want money. They want power. +They want kingdom. They want to possess the +earth.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> And they have won. They have it.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Have they? Not while your son hangs +there.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>She is bewildered.</i></p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> What do you mean? My son.... +My son is dead.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Is he? Not while God is in Heaven.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> I don’t understand you. What were +you saying yourself, just now? On’y a little while +ago I heard his blood dripping down here in the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37"></span>darkness. The stones are dank with it. Not an +hour ago. He’s dead.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> He’s alive.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> Why do you mock me? You’m mad. +Are you God, as you can kill and make alive, all in +one breath?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> He’s alive. I can’t kill him. All the +empires can’t kill him. How shall hate destroy the +power that possesses and rules the earth?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> The power that.... Who?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> This broken thing up here. Your +son.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> My son, the power that....</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Listen. I will tell you....</p> + +<p>I am a soldier. I have been helping to build +kingdoms for over twenty years. I have never known +any other trade. Soldiery, bloodshed, murder: that’s +my business. My hands are crimson with it. That’s +what empire means.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38"></span></p> + +<p>In the city I come from, it is the chief concern of the +people. Building kingdoms, rule, empire. They’re +proud of it. The little children in the schools are +drilled in obedience to it: they are taught hymns in +praise of it: they are brought up to reverence its +symbols. When they wave its standard above them, +they shout, they leap, they make wild and joyful +noises; like animals, like wolves, like little brute +beasts. Children! Young children! Their parents +encourage them in it: it never occurs to them to feel +ashamed: they would be treated like lepers if they +felt ashamed. That’s what empire does to human +beings in the city I come from. It springs from +fear—a peculiar kind of fear they call courage.</p> + +<p>And so we go on building our kingdoms—the +kingdoms of this world. We stretch out our hands, +greedy, grasping, tyrannical, to possess the earth. +Domination, power, glory, money, merchandise, +luxury, these are the things we aim at; but what we +really gain is pest and famine, grudge labour, the enslaved +hate of men and women, ghosts, dead and +death-breathing ghosts that haunt our lives forever. +It can’t last: it never has lasted, this building in +blood and fear. Already our kingdoms begin to +totter. Possess the earth! We have lost it. We +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39"></span>never did possess it. We have lost both earth and +ourselves in trying to possess it; for the soul of the +earth is man and the love of him, and we have made +of both, a desolation.</p> + +<p>I tell you, woman, this dead son of yours, disfigured, +shamed, spat upon, has built a kingdom this +day that can never die. The living glory of him +rules it. The earth is <em>his</em> and he made it. He and +his brothers have been moulding and making it +through the long ages: they are the only ones who +ever really did possess it: not the proud: not the +idle, not the wealthy, not the vaunting empires of +the world. Something has happened up here on +this hill to-day to shake all our kingdoms of blood +and fear to the dust. The earth is his, the earth is +theirs, and they made it. The meek, the terrible +meek, the fierce agonizing meek, are about to enter +into their inheritance.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>There is a deep, solemn silence for a +moment or two, broken only by the +tinkle of sheep-bells, which are gradually +approaching.</i></p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> Then it was not all wasted. It was the +truth, that night. I have borne a Man.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> A man and more than a man. A King.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> My peasant lad, a king: Yes. And +more yet. He was what he said he was. He was +God’s Son.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> It will take a new kind of soldier to serve +in his kingdom. A new kind of duty.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> A newer courage. More like woman’s. +Dealing with life, not death.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> It changes everything.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> It puts them back again. What he done, +puts all things back again, where they belong.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> I can see the end of war in this: some day.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> I can see the joy of women and little +children: some day.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> I can see cities and great spaces of land +full of happiness.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> I can see love shining in every face.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_41"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> There shall be no more sin, no pain....</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> No loss, no death....</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Only life, only God....</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> And the kingdom of my Son....</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Some day.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> When the world shall have learned.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Mother!... I am a murderer!...</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Woman.</span> I have been with Child. I forgive +you.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>It grows a little lighter.</i></p> + +<p class="hanging"><i>Some one is heard stumbling blindly over +the hill. It is the</i> <span class="smcap">Soldier</span>. <i>His +form emerges gray out of the gloom.</i></p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> ’Ello! Are you there, Captain?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Yes. I’m here.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> The fog’s liftin’ dahn below there—liftin’ +fast. It’ll soon be up orf this ’ill, thank Gawd!</p> + +<p>The General wants ter see you, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> What does he want with me? Do you +know?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Another of these ’ere bleedin’ jobs, I +think, sir. Been a bit of a disturbance dahn in the +tahn. The boys ’ave their orders, sir. General +wants you ter take command.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Tell him I refuse to come.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Beg pawdon, sir....</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> I refuse to come. I disobey.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> I don’t think I quite ’eard, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> I disobey. I have sworn duty to another +General. I serve the Empire no longer.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Beg pawdon, sir, it’s not for the +likes of me; but.... Well, you know wot that +means.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_43"></span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Perfectly. It means what you call +death. Tell the General.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Tell ’im as you refuse to obey orders, sir?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> His: yes. (<i>Half to himself</i>); How +simple it all is, after all.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier</span> (<i>after a moment</i>); I’m sorry, Captain.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Thank you, brother.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Soldier</span> <i>has no word to say</i>.</p> + +<p class="hanging"><i>The darkness is rapidly melting away. +All three figures are now beginning to +be seen quite clearly.</i></p> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Soldier.</span> Look sir, wot did I tell yer? It’s comin’ +light again.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Captain.</span> Eternally.</p> + +<div class="rightblock"> +<p class="hanging"><i>An unearthly splendour fills the place. +It is seen to be the top of a bleak stony +hill with little grass to it.</i></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44"></span></p> + +<p class="hanging"><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Woman</span> <i>is dressed in Eastern garments; +the</i> <span class="smcap">Captain</span> <i>is a Roman +centurion; the</i> <span class="smcap">Soldier</span>, <i>a Roman +legionary. Above them rise three +gaunt crosses bearing three dead men +gibbeted like thieves.</i></p> + +<p class="hanging"><i>At the foot of the crosses a flock of sheep +nibble peacefully at the grass. The +air is filled with the sound of their +little bells.</i></p> +</div> + +<p class="p2 center"><span class="smcap">Curtain</span></p> +<hr aria-hidden="true" class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter transnote"> +<h3>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:</h3> + +<p>Words may have multiple spelling variations or inconsistent +hyphenation in the text. These were left unchanged.</p> +</div> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78768 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/78768-h/images/colophon.jpg b/78768-h/images/colophon.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..27ca48d --- /dev/null +++ b/78768-h/images/colophon.jpg diff --git a/78768-h/images/cover.jpg b/78768-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2cbbaa9 --- /dev/null +++ b/78768-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/78768-h/images/frontis.jpg b/78768-h/images/frontis.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..354256d --- /dev/null +++ b/78768-h/images/frontis.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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