Initial commit of ebook 78768 filesHEAD main

author: www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> 2026-05-27 09:23:31 -0700
committer: www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> 2026-05-27 09:23:31 -0700
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+      The Terrible Meek | Project Gutenberg
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+  </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 &amp; 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 &amp; 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 &amp; 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>
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author	www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org>	2026-05-27 09:23:31 -0700
committer	www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org>	2026-05-27 09:23:31 -0700
commit	984bf3c9702c8dff1723626f1436514ecf93cccd (patch)
tree	be33236ee2f2bdd9e676638023e3e7db1cdf6e2c /78768-h