Plays - Susan Glaspell
FEJEVARY: More likely he's trying to start something. (_they are both
listening intently_) I don't think our boys will stand much more.
(_A scoffing whoop_. MADELINE _springs to the window; he reaches it
ahead and holds it_.)
FEJEVARY: This window stays closed.
(_She starts to go away, he takes hold of her_.)
MADELINE: You think you can keep me in here?
FEJEVARY: Listen, Madeline--plain, straight truth. If you go out there
and get in trouble a second time, I can't make it right for you.
MADELINE: You needn't!
FEJEVARY: You don't know what it means. These things are not child's
play--not today. You could get twenty years in prison for things you'll
say if you rush out there now. (_she laughs_) You laugh because you're
ignorant. Do you know that in America today there are women in our
prisons for saying no more than you've said here to me!
MADELINE: Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself!
FEJEVARY: I? Ashamed of myself?
MADELINE: Yes! Aren't you an American? (_a whistle_) Isn't that a
policeman's whistle? Are they coming back? Are they hanging around here
to--(_pulling away from her uncle as he turns to look, she jumps up in
the deep sill and throws open the window. Calling down_)
Here--Officer--_You_--Let that boy alone!
FEJEVARY: (_going left, calling sharply_) Holden. Professor
Holden--here--quick!
VOICE: (_coming up from below, outside_) Who says so?
MADELINE: I say so!
VOICE: And who are you talking for?
MADELINE: I am talking for Morton College!
FEJEVARY: (_returning--followed, reluctantly, by_ HOLDEN) Indeed you are
not. Close that window or you'll be expelled from Morton College.
(_Sounds of a growing crowd outside_.)
VOICE: Didn't I see you at the station?
MADELINE: Sure you saw me at the station. And you'll see me there again,
if you come bullying around here. You're not what this place is for!
(_her uncle comes up behind, right, and tries to close the window--she
holds it out_) My grandfather gave this hill to Morton College--a place
where anybody--from any land--can come and say what he believes to be
true! Why, you poor simp--this is America! Beat it from here! Atna!
Don't let him take hold of you like that! He has no right to--Oh, let me
_down_ there!
(_Springs down, would go off right, her uncle spreads out his arms to
block that passage. She turns to go the other way_.)
FEJEVARY: Holden! Bring her to her senses. Stand there. (HOLDEN _has not
moved from the place he entered, left, and so blocks the doorway_) Don't
let her pass.
(_Shouts of derision outside_.)
MADELINE: You think you can keep me in here--with that going on out
there? (_Moves nearer_ HOLDEN, _stands there before him, taut, looking
him straight in the eye. After a moment, slowly, as one compelled, he
steps aside for her to pass. Sound of her running footsteps. The two
men's eyes meet. A door slams_.)
CURTAIN
ACT IV
SCENE: _At the_ MORTON _place, the same room in which_ SILAS MORTON
_told his friend_ FELIX FEJEVARY _of his plan for the hill. The room has
not altogether changed since that day in 1879. The table around which
they dreamed for the race is in its old place. One of the old chairs is
there, the other two are modern chairs. In a corner is the rocker in
which_ GRANDMOTHER MORTON _sat. This is early afternoon, a week after
the events of Act II_.
MADELINE _is sitting at the table, in her hand a torn, wrinkled piece of
brown paper-peering at writing almost too fine to read. After a moment
her hand goes out to a beautiful dish on the table--an old dish of
coloured Hungarian glass. She is about to take something from this, but
instead lets her hand rest an instant on the dish itself Then turns and
through the open door looks out at the hill, sitting where her_
GRANDFATHER MORTON _sat when he looked out at the hill._
_Her father_, IRA MORTON, _appears outside, walking past the window,
left. He enters, carrying a grain sack, partly filled. He seems hardly
aware of_ MADELINE, _but taking a chair near the door, turned from her,
opens the sack and takes out a couple of ears of corn. As he is bent
over them, examining in a shrewd, greedy way_, MADELINE _looks at that
lean, tormented, rather desperate profile, the look of one confirming a
thing she fears. Then takes up her piece of paper_.
MADELINE: Do you remember Fred Jordan, father? Friend of our Fred--and
of mine?
IRA: (_not wanting to take his mind from the corn_) No. I don't remember
him. (_his voice has that timbre of one not related to others_)
MADELINE: He's in prison now.
IRA: Well I can't help that. (_after taking out another ear_) This is
the best corn I ever had. (_he says it gloatingly to himself_)
MADELINE: He got this letter out to me--written on this scrap of paper.
They don't give him paper. (_peering_) Written so fine I can hardly read
it. He's in what they call 'the hold', father--a punishment cell. (_with
difficulty reading it_) It's two and a half feet at one end, three feet
at the other, and six feet long. He'd been there ten days when he wrote
this. He gets two slices of bread a day; he gets water; that's all he
gets. This because he balled the deputy warden out for chaining another
prisoner up by the wrists.
IRA: Well, he'd better a-minded his own business. And you better mind
yours. I've got no money to spend in the courts. (_with excitement_)
I'll not mortgage this farm! It's been clear since the day my father's
father got it from the government--and it stays clear--till I'm gone. It
grows the best corn in the state--best corn in the Mississippi Valley.
Not for _anything_--you hear me?--would I mortgage this farm my father
handed down to me.
MADELINE: (_hurt_) Well, father, I'm not asking you to.
IRA: Then go and see your Uncle Felix. Make it up with him. He'll help
you--if you say you're sorry.
MADELINE: I'll not go to Uncle Felix.
IRA: Who will you go to then? (_pause_) Who will help you then? (_again
he waits_) You come before this United States Commissioner with no one
behind you, he'll hold you for the grand jury. Judge Watkins told Felix
there's not a doubt of it. You know what that means? It means you're on
your way to a cell. Nice thing for a Morton, people who've had their own
land since we got it from the Indians. What's the matter with your
uncle? Ain't he always been good to you? I'd like to know what things
would 'a' been for you without Felix and Isabel and all their friends.
You want to think a little. You like good times too well to throw all
that away.
MADELINE: I do like good times. So does Fred Jordan like good times.
(_smooths the wrinkled paper_) I don't know anybody--unless it is
myself--loves to be out, as he does. (_she tries to look out, but
cannot; sits very still, seeing what it is pain to see. Rises, goes to
that corner closet, the same one from which_ SILAS MORTON _took the deed
to the hill. She gets a yard stick, looks in a box and finds a piece of
chalk. On the floor she marks off_ FRED JORDAN'S _cell. Slowly, at the
end left unchalked, as for a door, she goes in. Her hand goes up as
against a wall; looks at her other hand, sees it is out too far, brings
it in, giving herself the width of the cell. Walks its length, halts,
looks up_.) And one window--too high up to see out.
(_In the moment she stands there, she is in that cell; she is all the
people who are in those cells_. EMIL JOHNSON _appears from outside; he
is the young man brought up on a farm, a crudely Americanized Swede_.)
MADELINE: (_stepping out of the cell door, and around it_) Hello, Emil.
EMIL: How are you, Madeline? How do, Mr Morton. (IRA _barely nods and
does not turn. In an excited manner he begins gathering up the corn he
has taken from the sack_. EMIL _turns back to_ MADELINE) Well, I'm just
from the courthouse. Looks like you and I might take a ride together,
Madeline. You come before the Commissioner at four.
IRA: What have you got to do with it?
MADELINE: Oh, Emil has a courthouse job now, father. He's part of the
law.
IRA: Well, he's not going to take you to the law! Anybody else--not Emil
Johnson!
MADELINE: (_astonished--and gently, to make up for his rudeness_)
Why--father, why not Emil? Since I'm going, I think it's nice to go in
with someone I know--with a neighbour like Emil.
IRA: If _this_ is what he lived for! If this is why--
(_He twists the ear of corn until some of the kernels drip off_.
MADELINE _and_ EMIL _look at one another in bewilderment_.)
EMIL: It's too bad anybody has to take Madeline in. I should think your
uncle could fix it up. (_low_) And with your father taking it like
this--(_to help_ IRA) That's fine corn, Mr Morton. My corn's getting
better all the time, but I'd like to get some of this for seed.
IRA: (_rising and turning on him_) You get my corn? I raise this corn
for you? (_not to them--his mind now going where it is shut off from any
other mind_) If I could make the _wind_ stand still! I want to _turn the
wind around_.
MADELINE: (_going to him_) Why--father. I don't understand at all.
IRA: Don't understand. Nobody understands. (_a curse with a sob in it_)
God damn the wind!
(_Sits down, his back to them_.)
EMIL: (_after a silence_) Well, I'll go. (_but he continues to look at_
IRA, _who is holding the sack of com shut, as if someone may take it_)
Too bad--(_stopped by a sign from_ MADELINE, _not to speak of it_) Well,
I was saying, I have go on to Beard's Crossing. I'll stop for you on my
way back. (_confidentially_) Couldn't you telephone your uncle? He could
do something. You don't know what you're going up against. You heard
what the Hindus got, I suppose.
MADELINE: No. I haven't seen anyone to-day.
EMIL: They're held for the grand jury. They're locked up now. No bail
for them. I've got the inside dope about them. They're going to get what
this country can hand 'em; then after we've given them a nice little
taste of prison life in America, they're going to be sent back home--to
see what India can treat them to.
MADELINE: Why are you so pleased about this, Emil?
EMIL: Pleased? It's nothin' to me--I'm just telling you. Guess you don't
know much about the Espionage Act or you'd go and make a little friendly
call on your uncle. When your case comes to trial--and Judge Lenon may
be on the bench--(_whistles_) He's one fiend for Americanism. But if
your uncle was to tell the right parties that you're just a girl, and
didn't realize what you were saying--
MADELINE: I did realize what I was saying, and every word you've just
said makes me know I meant what I said. I said if this was what our
country has come to, then I'm not for our country. I said that--and
a-plenty more--and I'll say it again!
EMIL: Well--gee, you don't know what it means.
MADELINE: I do know what it means, but it means not being a coward.
EMIL: Oh, well--Lord, you can't say everything you think. If everybody
did that, things'd be worse off than they are now.
MADELINE: Once in a while you have to say what you think--or hate
yourself.
EMIL: (_with a grin_) Then hate yourself.
MADELINE: (_smiling too_) No thank you; it spoils my fun.
EMIL: Well, look-a-here, Madeline, aren't you spoiling your fun now?
You're a girl who liked to be out. Ain't I seen you from our place, with
this one and that one, sometimes all by yourself, strikin' out over the
country as if you was crazy about it? How'd you like to be where you
couldn't even see out?
MADELINE: (_a step nearer the cell_) There oughtn't to be such places.
EMIL: Oh, well--Jesus, if you're going to talk about that--! You can't
change the way things are.
MADELINE: (_quietly_) Why can't I?
EMIL: Well, say, who do you think you are?
MADELINE: I think I'm an American. And for that reason I think I have
something to say about America.
EMIL: Huh! America'll lock you up for your pains.
MADELINE: All right. If it's come to that, maybe I'd rather be a
locked-up American than a free American.
EMIL: I don't think you'd like the place, Madeline. There's not much
tennis played there. Jesus--what's Hindus?
MADELINE: You aren't really asking Jesus, are you, Emil? (_smiles_) You
mightn't like his answer.
EMIL: (_from the door_) Take a tip. Telephone your uncle.
(_He goes_.)
IRA: (_not looking at her_) There might be a fine, and they'd come down
on me and take my land.
MADELINE: Oh, no, father, I think not. Anyway, I have a little money of
my own. Grandfather Morton left me something. Have you forgotten that?
IRA: No. No, I know he left you something. (_the words seem to bother
him_) I know he left you something.
MADELINE: I get it to-day. (_wistfully_) This is my birthday, father.
I'm twenty-one.
IRA: Your birthday? Twenty-one? (_in pain_) Was that twenty-one years
ago? (_it is not to his daughter this has turned him_)
MADELINE: It's the first birthday I can remember that I haven't had a
party.
IRA: It was your Aunt Isabel gave you your parties.
MADELINE: Yes.
IRA: Well, you see now.
MADELINE: (_stoutly_) Oh, well, I don't need a party. I'm grown up now.
(_She reaches out for the old Hungarian dish on the table; holding it,
she looks to her father, whose back is still turned. Her face tender,
she is about to speak when he speaks_.)
IRA: Grown up now--and going off and leaving me alone. You too--the last
one. And--_what for? (turning, looking around the room as for those long
gone_) There used to be so many in this house. My grandmother. She sat
there. (_pointing to the place near the open door_) Fine days like
this--in that chair (_points to the rocker_) she'd sit there--tell me
stories of the Indians. Father. It wasn't ever lonely where father was.
Then Madeline Fejevary--my Madeline came to this house. Lived with me in
this house. Then one day she--walked out of this house. Through that
door--through the field--out of this house. (_bitter silence_) Then
Fred--out of this house. Now you. With Emil Johnson! (_insanely, and
almost with relief at leaving things more sane_) Don't let him touch my
corn. If he touches one kernel of this corn! (_with the suspicion of the
tormented mind_) I wonder where he went? How do I know he went where he
_said_ he was going? (_getting up_) I dunno as that south bin's locked.
MADELINE: Oh--father!
IRA: I'll find out. How do I know what he's doing?
(_He goes out, turning left_. MADELINE _goes to the window and looks
after him. A moment later, hearing someone at the door, she turns and
finds her_ AUNT ISABEL, _who has appeared from right. Goes swiftly to
her, hands out_.)
MADELINE: Oh, _auntie_--I'm glad you came! It's my birthday, and
I'm--lonely.
AUNT ISABEL: You dear little girl! (_again giving her a hug, which_
MADELINE _returns, lovingly_) Don't I know it's your birthday? Don't
think that day will ever get by while your Aunt Isabel's around. Just
see what's here for your birthday. (_hands her the package she is
carrying_)
MADELINE: (_with a gasp--suspecting from its shape_) Oh! (_her face
aglow_) Why--_is_ it?
AUNT ISABEL: (_laughing affectionately_) Foolish child, open it and see.
(MADELINE _loosens the paper and pulls out a tennis racket_.)
MADELINE: (_excited, and moved_) Oh, aunt Isabel! that was dear of you.
I shouldn't have thought you'd--quite do that.
AUNT ISABEL: I couldn't imagine Madeline without a racket. (_gathering
up the paper, lightly reproachful_) But be a little careful of it,
Madeline. It's meant for tennis balls. (_they laugh together_)
MADELINE: (_making a return with it_) It's a _peach_. (_changing_)
Wonder where I'll play now.
AUNT ISABEL: Why, you'll play on the courts at Morton College. Who has a
better right?
MADELINE: Oh, I don't know. It's pretty much balled up, isn't it?
AUNT ISABEL: Yes; we'll have to get it straightened out. (_gently_) It
was really dreadful of you, Madeline, to rush out a second time. It
isn't as if they were people who were anything to you.
MADELINE: But, auntie, they are something to me.
AUNT ISABEL: Oh, dear, that's what Horace said.
MADELINE: What's what Horace said?
AUNT ISABEL: That you must have a case on one of them.
MADELINE: That's what Horace would say. That makes me sore!
AUNT ISABEL: I'm sorry I spoke of it. Horace is absurd in some ways.
MADELINE: He's a--
AUNT ISABEL: (_stopping it with her hand_) No, he isn't. He's a
headstrong boy, but a very loving one. He's dear with me, Madeline.
MADELINE: Yes. You are good to each other. (_her eyes are drawn to the
cell_)
AUNT ISABEL: Of course we are. We'd be a pretty poor sort if we weren't.
And these are days when we have to stand together--all of us who are the
same kind of people must stand together because the thing that makes us
the same kind of people is threatened.
MADELINE: Don't you think we're rather threatening it ourselves, auntie?
AUNT ISABEL: Why, no, we're fighting for it.
MADELINE: Fighting for what?
AUNT ISABEL: For Americanism; for--democracy.
MADELINE: Horace is fighting for it?
AUNT ISABEL: Well, Horace does go at it as if it were a football game,
but his heart's in the right place.
MADELINE: Somehow, I don't seem to see my heart in that place.
AUNT ISABEL: In what place?
MADELINE: Where Horace's heart is.
AUNT ISABEL: It's too bad you and Horace quarrel. But you and I don't
quarrel, Madeline.
MADELINE: (_again drawn to the cell_) No. You and I don't quarrel. (_she
is troubled_)
AUNT ISABEL: Funny child! Do you want us to?
(MADELINE _turns, laughing a little, takes the dish from the table,
holds it out to her aunt_.)
MADELINE: Have some fudge, auntie.
AUNT ISABEL: (_taking the dish_) Do you _use_ them?--the old Hungarian
dishes? (_laughingly_) I'm not allowed to--your uncle is so choice of
the few pieces we have. And here are you with fudge in one of them.
MADELINE: I made the fudge because--oh, I don't know, I had to do
something to celebrate my birthday.
AUNT ISABEL: (_under her breath_) Dearie!
MADELINE: And then that didn't seem to--make a birthday, so I happened
to see this, way up on a top shelf, and I remembered that it was my
mother's. It was nice to get it down and use it--almost as if mother was
giving me a birthday present.
AUNT ISABEL: And how she would love to give you a birthday present.
MADELINE: It was her mother's, I suppose, and they brought it from
Hungary.
AUNT ISABEL: Yes. They brought only a very few things with them, and
left--oh, so many beautiful ones behind.
MADELINE: (_quietly_) Rather nice of them, wasn't it? (_her aunt waits
inquiringly_) To leave their own beautiful things--their own beautiful
life behind--simply because they believed life should be more beautiful
for more people.
AUNT ISABEL: (_with constraint_) Yes. (_gayly turning it_) Well, now, as
to the birthday. What do you suppose Sarah is doing this instant?
Putting red frosting on white frosting, (_writing it with her finger_)
Madeline. And what do you suppose Horace is doing? (_this a little
reproachfully_) Running around buying twenty-one red candles.
Twenty-two--one to grow on. Big birthday cake. Party to-night.
MADELINE: But, auntie, I don't see how I can be there.
AUNT ISABEL: Listen, dear. Now, we've got to use our wits and all pull
together. Of course we'd do anything in the world rather than see
you--left to outsiders. I've never seen your uncle as worried,
and--truly, Madeline, as sad. Oh, my dear, it's these human things that
count! What would life be without the love we have for each other?
MADELINE: The love we have for each other?
AUNT ISABEL: Why, yes, dearest. Don't turn away from me Madeline.
Don't--don't be strange. I wonder if you realize how your uncle has
worked to have life a happy thing for all of us? Be a little generous to
him. He's had this great burden of bringing something from another day
on into this day. It is not as simple as it may seem. He's done it as
best he could. It will hurt him as nothing has ever hurt him if you now
undo that work of his life. Truly, dear, do you feel you know enough
about it to do that? Another thing: people are a little absurd out of
their own places. We need to be held in our relationships--against our
background--or we are--I don't know--grotesque. Come now, Madeline,
where's your sense of humour? Isn't it a little absurd for you to leave
home over India's form of government?
MADELINE: It's not India. It's America. A sense of humour is nothing to
hide behind!
AUNT ISABEL: (_with a laugh_) I knew I wouldn't be a success at world
affairs--better leave that to Professor Holden. (_a quick keen look
from_ MADELINE) They've driven on to the river--they'll be back for me,
and then he wants to stop in for a visit with you while I take Mrs
Holden for a further ride. I'm worried about her. She doesn't gain
strength at all since her operation. I'm going to try keeping her out in
the air all I can.
MADELINE: It's dreadful about families!
AUNT ISABEL: Dreadful? Professor Holden's devotion to his wife is one of
the most beautiful things I've ever seen.
MADELINE: And is that all you see it in?
AUNT ISABEL: You mean the--responsibility it brings? Oh, well--that's
what life is. Doing for one another. Sacrificing for one another.
MADELINE: I hope I never have a family.
AUNT ISABEL: Well, I hope you do. You'll miss the best of life if you
don't. Anyway, you have a family. Where is your father?
MADELINE: I don't know.
AUNT ISABEL: I'd like to see him.
MADELINE: There's no use seeing him today.
AUNT ISABEL: He's--?
MADELINE: Strange--shut in--afraid something's going to be taken from
him.
AUNT ISABEL: Poor Ira. So much has been taken from him. And now you.
Don't hurt him again, Madeline. He can't bear it. You see what it does
to him.
MADELINE: He has--the wrong idea about things.
AUNT ISABEL: 'The wrong idea!' Oh, my child--that's awfully young and
hard. It's so much deeper than that. Life has made him into
something--something he can't escape.
MADELINE: (_with what seems sullenness_) Well, I don't want to be made
into that thing.
AUNT ISABEL: Of course not. But you want to help him, don't you? Now,
dear--about your birthday party--
MADELINE: The United States Commissioner is giving me my birthday party.
AUNT ISABEL: Well, he'll have to put his party off. Your uncle has been
thinking it all out. We're to go to his office and you'll have a talk
with him and with Judge Watkins. He's off the state supreme bench
now--practising again, and as a favour to your uncle he will be your
lawyer. You don't know how relieved we are at this, for Judge Watkins
can do--anything he wants to do, practically. Then you and I will go on
home and call up some of the crowd to come in and dance to-night. We
have some beautiful new records. There's a Hungarian waltz--
MADELINE: And what's the price of all this, auntie?
AUNT ISABEL: The--Oh, you mean--Why, simply say you felt sorry for the
Hindu students because they seemed rather alone; that you hadn't
realized--what they were, hadn't thought out what you were saying--
MADELINE: And that I'm sorry and will never do it again.
AUNT ISABEL: I don't know that you need say that. It would be gracious,
I think, to indicate it.
MADELINE: I'm sorry you--had the cake made. I suppose you can eat it,
anyway. I (_turning away_)--can't eat it.
AUNT ISABEL: Why--Madeline.
(_Seeing how she has hurt her_, MADELINE _goes out to her aunt_.)
MADELINE: Auntie, dear! I'm sorry--if I hurt your feelings.
AUNT ISABEL: (_quick to hold out a loving hand, laughing a little_)
They've been good birthday cakes, haven't they, Madeline?
MADELINE: (_she now trying not to cry_) I don't know--what I'd have done
without them. Don't know--what I will do without them. I don't--see it.
AUNT ISABEL: Don't try to. Please don't see it! Just let me go on
helping you. That's all I ask. (_she draws_ MADELINE _to her_) Ah,
dearie, I held you when you were a little baby without your mother. All
those years count for something, Madeline. There's just nothing to life
if years of love don't count for something. (_listening_) I think I hear
them. And here are we, weeping like two idiots. (MADELINE _brushes away
tears_, AUNT ISABEL _arranges her veil, regaining her usual poise_)
Professor Holden was hoping you'd take a tramp with him. Wouldn't that
do you good? Anyway, a talk with him will be nice. I know he admires you
immensely, and really--perhaps I shouldn't let you know
this--sympathizes with your feeling. So I think his maturer way of
looking at things will show you just the adjustment you need to become a
really big and useful person. There's so much to be done in the world,
Madeline. Of course we ought to make it a better world. (_in a manner of
agreement with_ MADELINE) I feel very strongly about all that. Perhaps
we can do some things together. I'd love that. Don't think I'm hopeless!
Way down deep we have the same feeling. Yes, here's Professor Holden.
(HOLDEN _comes in. He seems older_.)
HOLDEN: And how are you, Madeline? (_holding out his hand_)
MADELINE: I'm--all right.
HOLDEN: Many happy returns of the day. (_embarrassed by her half laugh_)
The birthday.
AUNT ISABEL: And did you have a nice look up the river?