Plays - Susan Glaspell
DICK: Any place is for saving a man's life.
HATTIE: Sure, Anthony. Mrs Archer wouldn't want Mr Demming shot.
DICK: That's right, Anthony. Miss Claire will be angry at you if you get
me shot. (_he makes for the door of the inner room_)
ANTHONY: You can't go in there. It's locked. (HARRY _rushes in from
outside_.)
HARRY: I thought so! (_he has the revolver_. HATTIE _screams_)
ANTHONY: Now, Mr Archer, if you'll just stop and think, you'll know Miss
Claire wouldn't want Mr Demming shot.
HARRY: You think that can stop me? You think you can stop me? (_raising
the revolver_) A dog that--
ANTHONY: (_keeping squarely between_ HARRY _and_ DICK) Well, you can't
shoot him in here. It is not good for the plants. (HARRY _is arrested by
this reason_) And especially not today. Why, Mr Archer, Breath of Life
may flower today. It's years Miss Claire's been working for this day.
HARRY: I never thought to see this day!
ANTHONY: No, did you? Oh, it will be a wonderful day. And how she has
worked for it. She has an eye that sees what isn't right in what looks
right. Many's the time I've thought--Here the form is set--and then
she'd say, 'We'll try this one', and it had--what I hadn't known was
there. She's like that.
HARRY: I've always been pleased, Anthony, at the way you've worked with
Miss Claire. This is hardly the time to stand there eulogizing her. And
she's (_can hardly say it_) things you don't know she is.
ANTHONY: (_proudly_) Oh, I know that! You think I could work with her
and not know she's more than I know she is?
HARRY: Well, if you love her you've got to let me shoot the dirty dog
that drags her down!
ANTHONY: Not in here. Not today. More than like you'd break the glass.
And Breath of Life's in there.
HARRY: Anthony, this is pretty clever of you--but--
ANTHONY: I'm not clever. But I know how easy it is to turn life back.
No, I'm not clever at all (CLAIRE _has appeared and is looking in from
outside_), but I do know--there are things you mustn't hurt, (_he sees
her_) Yes, here's Miss Claire.
(_She comes in. She is looking immaculate._)
CLAIRE: From the gutter I rise again, refreshed. One does, you know.
Nothing is fixed--not even the gutter, (_smilingly to_ HARRY _and
refusing to notice revolver or agitation_) How did you like the way I
entertained the nerve specialist?
HARRY: Claire! You can _joke_ about it?
CLAIRE: (_taking the revolver from the hand she has shocked to
limpness_) Whom are you trying to make hear?
HARRY: I'm trying to make the world hear that (_pointing_) there stands
a dirty dog who--
CLAIRE: Listen, Harry, (_turning to_ HATTIE, _who is over by the tall
plants at right, not wanting to be shot but not wanting to miss the
conversation_) You can do my room now, Hattie. (_HATTIE goes_) If you're
thinking of shooting Dick, you can't shoot him while he's backed up
against that door.
ANTHONY: Just what I told them, Miss Claire. Just what I told them.
CLAIRE: And for that matter, it's quite dull of you to have any idea of
shooting him.
HARRY: I may be dull--I know you think I am--but I'll show you that I've
enough of the man in me to--
CLAIRE: To make yourself ridiculous? If I ran out and hid my head in the
mud, would you think you had to shoot the mud?
DICK: (_stung out of fear_) That's pretty cruel!
CLAIRE: Well, would you rather be shot?
HARRY: So you just said it to protect him!
CLAIRE: I change it to grass, (_nodding to_ DICK) Grass. If I hid my
face in the grass, would you have to burn the grass?
HARRY: Oh, Claire, how _can_ you? When you know how I love you--and how
I'm suffering?
CLAIRE: (_with interest_) Are you suffering?
HARRY: Haven't you _eyes_?
CLAIRE: I should think it would--do something to you.
HARRY: God! Have you no heart? (_the door opens._ TOM _comes in_)
CLAIRE: (_scarcely saying it_) Yes, I have a heart.
TOM: (_after a pause_) I came to say good-bye.
CLAIRE: God! Have you no heart? Can't you at least wait till Dick is
shot?
TOM: Claire! (_now sees the revolver in her hand that is turned from
him. Going to her_) Claire!
CLAIRE: And even you think this is so important? (_carelessly raises the
revolver, and with her left hand out flat, tells_ TOM _not to touch
her_) Harry thinks it important he shoot Dick, and Dick thinks it
important not to be shot, and you think I mustn't shoot anybody--even
myself--and can't any of you see that none of that is as important
as--where revolvers can't reach? (_putting revolver where there is no
Edge Vine_) I shall never shoot myself. I'm too interested in
destruction to cut it short by shooting. (_after looking from one to the
other, laughs. Pointing_) One--two--three. You-love-me. But why do you
bring it out here?
ANTHONY: (_who has resumed work_) It is not what this place is for.
CLAIRE: No this place is for the destruction that can get through.
ANTHONY: Miss Claire, it is eleven. At eleven we are to go in and see--
CLAIRE: Whether it has gone through. But how can we go--with Dick
against the door?
ANTHONY: He'll have to move.
CLAIRE: And be shot?
HARRY: (_irritably_) Oh, he'll not be shot. Claire can spoil anything.
(DICK _steps away from the door_; CLAIRE _takes a step nearer it_.)
CLAIRE: (_halting_) Have I spoiled everything? I don't want to go in
there.
ANTHONY: We're going in together, Miss Claire. Don't you remember? Oh
(_looking resentfully at the others_) don't let any little thing spoil
it for you--the work of all those days--the hope of so many days.
CLAIRE: Yes--that's it.
ANTHONY: You're afraid you haven't done it?
CLAIRE: Yes, but--afraid I have.
HARRY: (_cross, but kindly_) That's just nervousness, Claire. I've had
the same feeling myself about making a record in flying.
CLAIRE: (_curiously grateful_) You have, Harry?
HARRY: (_glad enough to be back in a more usual world_) Sure. I've been
afraid to know, and almost as afraid of having done it as of not having
done it.
(CLAIRE _nods, steps nearer, then again pulls back_.)
CLAIRE: I can't go in there. (_she almost looks at_ TOM) Not today.
ANTHONY: But, Miss Claire, there'll be things to see today we can't see
tomorrow.
CLAIRE: You bring it in here!
ANTHONY: In--out from its own place? (_she nods_) And--where they are?
(_again she nods. Reluctantly he goes to the door_) I will not look into
the heart. No one must know before you know.
(_In the inner room, his head a little turned away, he is seen very
carefully to lift the plant which glows from within. As he brings it in,
no one looks at it_. HARRY _takes a box of seedlings from a stand and
puts them on the floor, that the newcomer may have a place_.)
ANTHONY: Breath of Life is here, Miss Claire.
(CLAIRE _half turns, then stops._)
CLAIRE: Look--and see--what you see.
ANTHONY: No one should see what you've not seen.
CLAIRE: I can't see--until I know.
(ANTHONY _looks into the flower._)
ANTHONY: (_agitated_) Miss Claire!
CLAIRE: It has come through?
ANTHONY: It has gone on.
CLAIRE: Stronger?
ANTHONY: Stronger, surer.
CLAIRE: And more fragile?
ANTHONY: And more fragile.
CLAIRE: Look deep. No--turning back?
ANTHONY: (_after a searching look_) The form is set. (_he steps back
from it_)
CLAIRE: Then it is--out. (_from where she stands she turns slowly to the
plant_) You weren't. You are.
ANTHONY: But come and see, Miss Claire.
CLAIRE: It's so much more than--I'd see.
HARRY: Well, I'm going to see. (_looking into it_) I never saw anything
like that before! There seems something alive--inside this outer shell.
DICK: (_he too looking in and he has an artist's manner of a hand up to
make the light right_) It's quite new in form. It--says something about
form.
HARRY: (_cordially to_ CLAIRE, _who stands apart_) So you've really put
it over. Well, well,--congratulations. It's a good deal of novelty, I
should say, and I've no doubt you'll have a considerable success with
it--people always like something new. I'm mighty glad--after all your
work, and I hope it will--set you up.
CLAIRE: (_low--and like a machine_) Will you all--go away?
(ANTHONY _goes--into the other room._)
HARRY: Why--why, yes. But--oh, Claire! Can't you take some pleasure in
your work? (_as she stands there very still_) Emmons says you need a
good long rest--and I think he's right.
TOM: Can't this help you, Claire? Let this be release. This--breath of
the uncaptured.
CLAIRE: (_and though speaking, she remains just as still_)
Breath of the uncaptured?
You are a novelty.
Out?
You have been brought in.
A thousand years from now, when you are but a form too long repeated,
Perhaps the madness that gave you birth will burst again,
And from the prison that is you will leap pent queernesses
To make a form that hasn't been--
To make a person new.
And this we call creation, (_very low, her head not coming up_)
Go away!
(TOM _goes_; HARRY _hesitates, looking in anxiety at_ CLAIRE. _He starts
to go, stops, looks at_ DICK, _from him to_ CLAIRE. _But goes. A moment
later_ DICK _moves near_ CLAIRE; _stands uncertainly, then puts a hand
upon her. She starts, only then knowing he is there._)
CLAIRE: (_a slight shrinking away, but not really reached_) Um, um.
(_He goes_. CLAIRE _steps nearer her creation. She looks into what
hasn't been. With her breath, and by a gentle moving of her hands, she
fans it to fuller openness. As she does this_ TOM _returns and from
outside is looking in at her. Softly he opens the door and comes in. She
does not know that he is there. In the way she looks at the flower he
looks at her._)
TOM: Claire, (_she lifts her head_) As you stood there, looking into the
womb you breathed to life, you were beautiful to me beyond any other
beauty. You were life and its reach and its anguish. I can't go away
from you. I will never go away from you. It shall all be--as you wish. I
can go with you where I could not go alone. If this is delusion, I want
that delusion. It's more than any reality I could attain, (_as she does
not move_) Speak to me, Claire. You--are glad?
CLAIRE: (_from far_) Speak to you? (_pause_) Do I know who you are?
TOM: I think you do.
CLAIRE: Oh, yes. I love you. That's who you are. (_waits again_) But why
are you something--very far away?
TOM: Come nearer.
CLAIRE: Nearer? (_feeling it with her voice_) Nearer. But I think I am
going--the other way.
TOM: No, Claire--come to me. Did you understand, dear? I am not going
away.
CLAIRE: You're not going away?
TOM: Not without you, Claire. And you and I will be together. Is
that--what you wanted?
CLAIRE: Wanted? (_as if wanting is something that harks far back. But
the word calls to her passion_) Wanted! (_a sob, hands out, she goes to
him. But before his arms can take her, she steps back_) Are you trying
to pull me down into what I wanted? Are you here to make me stop?
TOM: How can you ask that? I love you because it is not in you to stop.
CLAIRE: And loving me for that--would stop me? Oh, help me see it! It is
so important that I see it.
TOM: It is important. It is our lives.
CLAIRE: And more than that. I cannot see it because it is so much more
than that.
TOM: Don't try to see all that it is. From peace you'll see a little
more.
CLAIRE: Peace? (_troubled as we are when looking at what we cannot see
clearly_) What is peace? Peace is what the struggle knows in moments
very far apart. Peace--that is not a place to rest. Are you resting?
What are you? You who'd take me from what I am to something else?
TOM: I thought you knew, Claire.
CLAIRE: I know--what you pass for. But are you beauty? Beauty is that
only living pattern--the trying to take pattern. Are you trying?
TOM: Within myself, Claire. I never thought you doubted that.
CLAIRE: Beauty is it. (_she turns to Breath of Life, as if to learn it
there, but turns away with a sob_) If I cannot go to you now--I will
always be alone.
(TOM _takes her in his arms. She is shaken, then comes to rest._)
TOM: Yes--rest. And then--come into joy. You have so much life for joy.
CLAIRE: (_raising her head, called by promised gladness_) We'll run
around together. (_lovingly he nods_) Up hills. All night on hills.
TOM: (_tenderly_) All night on hills.
CLAIRE: We'll go on the sea in a little boat.
TOM: On the sea in a little boat.
CLAIRE: But--there are other boats on other seas, (_drawing back from
him, troubled_) There are other boats on other seas.
TOM: (_drawing her back to him_) My dearest--not now, not now.
CLAIRE: (_her arms going round him_) Oh, I would love those hours with
you. I want them. I want you! (_they kiss--but deep in her is sobbing_)
Reminiscence, (_her hand feeling his arm as we touch what we would
remember_) Reminiscence. (_with one of her swift changes steps back from
him_) How dare you pass for what you're not? We are tired, and so we
think it's you. Stop with you. Don't get through--to what you're in the
way of. Beauty is not something you say about beauty.
TOM: I say little about beauty, Claire.
CLAIRE: Your life says it. By standing far off you pass for it. Smother
it with a life that passes for it. But beauty--(_getting it from the
flower_) Beauty is the humility breathed from the shame of succeeding.
TOM: But it may all be within one's self, dear.
CLAIRE: (_drawn by this, but held, and desperate because she is held_)
When I have wanted you with all my wanting--why must I distrust you now?
When I love you--with all of me, why do I know that only you are worth
my hate?
TOM: It's the fear of easy satisfactions. I love you for it.
CLAIRE: (_over the flower_) Breath of Life--you here? Are you
lonely--Breath of Life?
TOM: Claire--hear me! Don't go where we can't go. As there you made a
shell for life within, make for yourself a life in which to live. It
must be so.
CLAIRE: As you made for yourself a shell called beauty?
TOM: What is there for you, if you'll have no touch with what we have?
CLAIRE: What is there? There are the dreams we haven't dreamed. There is
the long and flowing pattern, (_she follows that, but suddenly and as if
blindly goes to him_) I am tired. I am lonely. I'm afraid, (_he holds
her, soothing. But she steps back from him_) And because we are
tired--lonely--and afraid, we stop with you. Don't get through--to what
you're in the way of.
TOM: Then you don't love me?
CLAIRE: I'm fighting for my chance. I don't know--which chance.
(_Is drawn to the other chance, to Breath of Life. Looks into it as if
to look through to the uncaptured. And through this life just caught
comes the truth she chants._)
I've wallowed at a coarse man's feet,
I'm sprayed with dreams we've not yet come to.
I've gone so low that words can't get there,
I've never pulled the mantle of my fears around me
And called it loneliness--And called it God.
Only with life that waits have I kept faith.
(_with effort raising her eyes to the man_)
And only you have ever threatened me.
TOM: (_coming to her, and with strength now_) And I will threaten you.
I'm here to hold you from where I know you cannot go. You're trying what
we can't do.
CLAIRE: What else is there worth trying?
TOM: I love you, and I will keep you--from fartherness--from harm. You
are mine, and you will stay with me! (_roughly_) You hear me? You will
stay with me!
CLAIRE: (_her head on his breast, in ecstasy of rest. Drowsily_) You can
keep me?
TOM: Darling! I can keep you. I will keep you--safe.
CLAIRE: (_troubled by the word, but barely able to raise her head_)
Safe?
TOM: (_bringing her to rest again_) Trust me, Claire.
CLAIRE: (_not lifting her head, but turning it so she sees Breath of
Life_) Now can I trust--what is? (_suddenly pushing him roughly away_)
No! I will beat my life to pieces in the struggle to--
TOM: To _what_, Claire?
CLAIRE: Not to stop it by seeming to have it. (_with fury_) I will keep
my life low--low--that I may never stop myself--or anyone--with the
thought it's what _I_ have. I'd rather be the steam rising from the
manure than be a thing called beautiful! (_with sight too clear_) Now I
know who you are. It is you puts out the breath of life. Image of
beauty--_You fill the place--should be a gate._ (_in agony_) Oh, that it
is _you_--fill the place--should be a gate! My darling! That it should
be you who--(_her hands moving on him_) Let me tell you something. Never
was loving strong as my loving of you! Do you know that? Oh, know that!
Know it now! (_her arms go around his neck_) Hours with you--I'd give my
life to have! That it should be you--(_he would loosen her hands, for he
cannot breathe. But when she knows she is choking him, that knowledge is
fire burning its way into the last passion_) It _is_ you. It is you.
TOM: (_words coming from a throat not free_) Claire! What are you doing?
(_then she knows what she is doing_)
CLAIRE: (_to his resistance_) No! You are _too much_! You are _not
enough_. (_still wanting not to hurt her, he is slow in getting free. He
keeps stepping backward trying, in growing earnest, to loosen her hands.
But he does not loosen them before she has found the place in his throat
that cuts off breath. As he gasps_)
Breath of Life--my gift--to you!
(_She has pushed him against one of the plants at right as he sways,
strength she never had before pushes him over backward, just as they
have struggled from sight. Violent crash of glass is heard._)
TOM: (_faint smothered voice_) _No_. I'm--hurt.
CLAIRE: (_in the frenzy and agony of killing_) Oh, gift! Oh, gift!
(_there is no sound._
CLAIRE _rises--steps back--is seen now; is looking down_) Gift.
(_Like one who does not know where she is, she moves into the
room--looks around. Takes a step toward Breath of Life; turns and goes
quickly to the door. Stops, as if stopped. Sees the revolver where the
Edge Vine was. Slowly goes to it. Holds it as if she cannot think what
it is for. Then raises it high and fires above through the place in the
glass left open for ventilation_. ANTHONY _comes from the inner room.
His eyes go from her to the body beyond_. HARRY _rushes in from
outside_.)
HARRY: Who fired that?
CLAIRE: I did. Lonely.
(_Seeing_ ANTHONY'S _look_, HARRY _'s eyes follow it_.)
HARRY: Oh! What? What? (DICK _comes running in_) Who? Claire!
(DICK _sees--goes to_ TOM)
CLAIRE: Yes. I did it. MY--Gift.
HARRY: Is he--? He isn't--? He isn't--?
(_Tries to go in there. Cannot--there is the sound of broken glass, of a
position being changed--then_ DICK _reappears_.)
DICK: (_his voice in jerks_) It's--it's no use, but I'll go for a
doctor.
HARRY: No--no. Oh, I suppose--(_falling down beside_ CLAIRE--_his face
against her_) My darling! How can I save you now?
CLAIRE: (_speaking each word very carefully_) Saved--myself.
ANTHONY: I did it. Don't you see? I didn't want so many around.
Not--what this place is for.
HARRY: (_snatching at this but lets it go_) She wouldn't let--(_looking
up at_ CLAIRE--_then quickly hiding his face_) And--don't you see?
CLAIRE: Out. (_a little like a child's pleased surprise_) Out.
(DICK _stands there, as if unable to get to the door--his face
distorted, biting his hand_.)
ANTHONY: Miss Claire! You can do anything--won't you try?
CLAIRE: Reminiscence? (_speaking the word as if she has left even that,
but smiles a little_)
(ANTHONY _takes Reminiscence, the flower she was breeding for fragrance
for Breath of Life--holds it out to her. But she has taken a step
forward, past them all_.)
CLAIRE: Out. (_as if feeling her way_)
Nearer,
(_Her voice now feeling the way to it_.)
Nearer--
(_Voice almost upon it_.)
--my God,
(_Falling upon it with surprise_.)
to Thee,
(_Breathing it_.)
Nearer--to Thee,
E'en though it be--
(_A slight turn of the head toward the dead man she loves--a
mechanical turn just as far the other way_.)
a cross
That
(_Her head going down_.)
raises me;
(_Her head slowly coming up--singing it_.)
Still all my song shall be,
Nearer, my--
(_Slowly the curtain begins to shut her out. The last word heard is the
final_ Nearer--_a faint breath from far_.)
CURTAIN
INHERITORS
_Inheritors_ was first performed at the Provincetown Playhouse on April 27, 1921.
SMITH (a young business man)
GRANDMOTHER (SILAS MORTON'S mother)
SILAS MORTON (a pioneer farmer)
FELIX FEJEVARY, the First (an exiled Hungarian nobleman)
FELIX FEJEVARY, the Second (his son, a Harvard student)
FELIX FEJEVARY, the Second (a banker)
SENATOR LEWIS (a State Senator)
HORACE FEJEVARY (son of FELIX FEJEVARY, the Second)
DORIS (a student at Morton College)
FUSSIE (another college girl)
MADELINE FEJEVARY MORTON (daughter of IRA MORTON, and granddaughter of
SILAS MORTON)
ISABEL FEJEVARY (wife of FELIX FEJEVARY, the Second, and MADELINE'S
aunt)
HARRY (a student clerk)
HOLDEN (Professor at Morton College)
IRA MORTON (son of SILAS MORTON, and MADELINE'S father)
EMIL JOHNSON (an Americanized Swede)
ACT I
SCENE: _Sitting-room of the Mortons' farmhouse in the Middle West--on
the rolling prairie just back from the Mississippi. A room that has been
long and comfortably lived in, and showing that first-hand contact with
materials which was pioneer life. The hospitable table was made on the
place--well and strongly made; there are braided rugs, and the wooden
chairs have patchwork cushions. There is a corner closet--left rear. A
picture of Abraham Lincoln. On the floor a home-made toy boat. At rise
of curtain there are on the stage an old woman and a young man._
GRANDMOTHER MORTON _is in her rocking-chair near the open door, facing
left. On both sides of door are windows, looking out on a generous land.
She has a sewing basket and is patching a boy's pants. She is very old.
Her hands tremble. Her spirit remembers the days of her strength._
SMITH _has just come in and, hat in hand, is standing by the table. This
was lived in the year 1879, afternoon of Fourth of July._
SMITH: But the celebration was over two hours ago.
GRANDMOTHER: Oh, celebration, that's just the beginning of it. Might as
well set down. When them boys that fought together all get in one
square--they have to swap stories all over again. That's the worst of a
war--you have to go on hearing about it so long. Here it is--1879--and
we haven't taken Gettysburg yet. Well, it was the same way with the war
of 1832.
SMITH: (_who is now seated at the table_) The war of 1832?
GRANDMOTHER: News to you that we had a war with the Indians?
SMITH: That's right--the Blackhawk war. I've heard of it.
GRANDMOTHER: Heard of it!
SMITH: Were your men in that war?
GRANDMOTHER: I was in that war. I threw an Indian in the cellar and
stood on the door. I was heavier then.
SMITH: Those were stirring times.
GRANDMOTHER: More stirring than you'll ever see. This war--Lincoln's
war--it's all a cut and dried business now. We used to fight with
anything we could lay hands on--dish water--whatever was handy.
SMITH: I guess you believe the saying that the only good Indian is a
dead Indian.
GRANDMOTHER: I dunno. We roiled them up considerable. They was mostly
friendly when let be. Didn't want to give up their land--but I've
noticed something of the same nature in white folks.
SMITH: Your son has--something of that nature, hasn't he?
GRANDMOTHER: He's not keen to sell. Why should he? It'll never be worth
less.
SMITH: But since he has more land than any man can use, and if he gets
his price--
GRANDMOTHER: That what you've come to talk to him about?
SMITH: I--yes.
GRANDMOTHER: Well, you're not the first. Many a man older than you has
come to argue it.
SMITH: (_smiling_) They thought they'd try a young one.
GRANDMOTHER: Some one that knew him thought that up. Silas'd help a
young one if he could. What is it you're set on buying?
SMITH: Oh, I don't know that we're set on buying anything. If we could
have the hill (_looking off to the right_) at a fair price--
GRANDMOTHER: The hill above the town? Silas'd rather sell me and the
cat.
SMITH: But what's he going to do with it?
GRANDMOTHER: Maybe he's going to climb it once a week.
SMITH: But if the development of the town demands its use--
GRANDMOTHER: (_smiling_) You the development of the town?
SMITH: I represent it. This town has been growing so fast--
GRANDMOTHER: This town began to grow the day I got here.
SMITH: You--you began it?
GRANDMOTHER: My husband and I began it--and our baby Silas.
SMITH: When was that?
GRANDMOTHER: 1820, that was.
SMITH: And--you mean you were here all alone?
GRANDMOTHER: No, we weren't alone. We had the Owens ten miles down the
river.
SMITH: But how did you get here?
GRANDMOTHER: Got here in a wagon, how do you s'pose? (_gaily_) Think we
flew?
SMITH: But wasn't it unsafe?
GRANDMOTHER: Them set on safety stayed back in Ohio.
SMITH: But one family! I should think the Indians would have wiped you
out.
GRANDMOTHER: The way they wiped us out was to bring fish and corn. We'd
have starved to death that first winter hadn't been for the Indians.
SMITH: But they were such good neighbours--why did you throw dish water
at them?
GRANDMOTHER: That was after other white folks had roiled them up--white
folks that didn't know how to treat 'em. This very land--land you want
to buy--was the land they loved--Blackhawk and his Indians. They came
here for their games. This was where their fathers--as they called
'em--were buried. I've seen my husband and Blackhawk climb that hill
together. (_a backward point right_) He used to love that
hill--Blackhawk. He talked how the red man and the white man could live
together. But poor old Blackhawk--what he didn't know was how many white
man there was. After the war--when he was beaten but not conquered in
his heart--they took him east--Washington, Philadelphia, New York--and
when he saw the white man's cities--it was a different Indian came back.
He just let his heart break without ever turning a hand.