The Project Gutenberg EBook of Two Mothers, by John Gneisenau Neihardt

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.

Title: Two Mothers

Author: John Gneisenau Neihardt

Release Date: December 1, 2016 [EBook #53642]

Language: English

Character set encoding: UTF-8

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWO MOTHERS ***




Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)






Transcriber's Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

TWO MOTHERS
BY
JOHN G. NEIHARDT
The Splendid Wayfaring
The Song of Three Friends
The Song of Hugh Glass
The Quest

TWO MOTHERS

BY
JOHN G. NEIHARDT
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1921
All rights reserved

Copyright, 1913
By POETRY: A MAGAZINE OF VERSE
Copyright, 1915
By THE FORUM
Copyright, 1921,
By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
Set up and electrotyped. Published, January, 1921

TO
ALICE AND MONA

CONTENTS

PAGE
 
Eight Hundred Rubles 3
 
Agrippina 27

EIGHT HUNDRED RUBLES

GIRL’S SONG

Noble Kreider
The heart’s an open inn,
And from the four winds fare....
Vagrants blind with care,
Waifs that limp with sin;
Ghosts of what has been,...
Wraiths of what may be:...
But One shall bring the sacred gift
And which ... is He?
And with their wounds of care
And with their scars of sin....
All these shall en-ter in
To find a welcome there;
And he who gives with prayer
Shall be the richer host:...
For surely unto him shall come
The Holy Ghost.

The last stanza same as second except in second “‘Tis he” at close of stanza take “he” on C for end.

3
TWO MOTHERS
EIGHT HUNDRED RUBLES

The combined living room and kitchen of a peasant house. Before an open fire, where supper is in preparation, stoops a girl of about sixteen. It is evening and dusk is growing. Vines hang outside and the light of a rising moon comes through the window.

Girl

(Singing.)

The heart’s an open inn,
And from the four winds fare
Vagrants blind with care,
Waifs that limp with sin;
Ghosts of what has been,
Wraiths of what may be:
4But one shall bring the sacred gift—
And which is he?
And with their wounds of care
And with their scars of sin,
All these shall enter in
To find a welcome there;
And he who gives with prayer
Shall be the richer host;
For surely unto him shall come
The Holy Ghost.

(Ceases singing and stares into the fire.)

What if he’d vanish like a dream one keeps
No more than starshine when the morning breaks!
I’ll look again.

(Arises, goes softly to the open window and looks out into the garden.)

How peacefully he sleeps!
The red rose shields him from the moon that makes
5The garden like a witch-tale whispered low.
He came a stranger, yet he is not strange;
For O, how often I have dreamed it so,
Until a sudden, shivering gust of change
Went over things, making the cow-sheds flare
On fire with splendor while one might count three,
And riding swiftly down the populous air,
Prince-like he came for me.
There were no banners when he really came,
No clatter of brave steel chafing in the sheath,
No trumpets blown to hoarseness with his fame.
Silently trudging over the dusky heath,
Clad in a weave of twilight, shod with dew,
Weary he came and hungry to the door.
The lifting latch made music, and I knew
My prince was dream no more.

(Sings low.)

O weary heart and sore,
6O yearning eyes that blur,
A hand that drips with myrrh
Is knocking at the door!
The waiting time is o’er,
Be glad, look up and see
How splendid is a dream come true—
‘Tis he! ‘Tis he!

(During the latter part of the song, the back door opens and the father and mother enter, stooped beneath heavy packs.)

Mother
What’s this, eh? Howling like a dog in heat,
Snout to the moon! And not a bite to eat,
And the pot scorching like the devil’s pit!
Bestir yourself there, will you! Here you sit
Tra-la-ing while the supper goes to rack,
And your old father like to break his back,
Tramping from market!
7Father
Tut, tut! Girls must sing,
And one burned supper is a little thing
In seventy creeping years.
Mother
Ah, there it goes!
My hunger makes no difference, I suppose!
Tra-la, tut tut, and I can slave and slave
Until my nose seems sniffing for a grave,
I’m bent so—and it’s little that you care!
Girl

(Who has arisen from window and regards her mother as in a dream.)

Hush, Mother dear, you’ll wake him!
Mother
Wake him? Where?
Who sleeps that should not wake? Are you bewitched?
Hush me again, and you’ll be soundly switched!
8As though I were a work brute to be dumb!
I’ll talk my fill!
Girl
O Mother, he has come——
Mother

(Her body straightening slightly from its habitual stoop)

Eh? Who might come that I would care to know
Since Ivan left?—He’s dead.
Father
Aye, years ago,
And stubborn grieving is a foolish sin.
Mother

(With the old weary voice.)

One’s head runs empty and the ghosts get in
When one is old and stooped.

(Peevishly to the girl.)

Bestir yourself!
Lay plates and light the candles on the shelf.
No corpse lies here that it should be so dark.

9(Girl, moving as in a trance, lights candles with a brand from the fireplace. Often she glances expectantly at the window. The place is fully illumined.)

What ails the hussy?
Father
‘Tis a crazy lark
Sings in her head all day. Don’t be too rough.
Come twenty winters, ‘twill be still enough,
God knows!
Mother

(At the fireplace.)

I heard no larks sing at her age.
They put me in the field to earn a wage
And be some use in the world.

(To girl.)

What! Dawdling yet?
I’ll lark you in a way you won’t forget,
Come forty winters! Speak! What do you mean?
10Girl

(Still staring at the window and speaking dreamily as to herself.)

Up from the valley creeps the loving green
Until the loneliest hill-top is a bride.
Mother
The girl’s gone daft!
Father
‘Tis vapors. Let her bide.
She’s weaving bride-veils with a woof of the moon,
And every wind’s a husband. All too soon
She’ll stitch at grave-clothes in a stuff more stern.
Girl

(Arousing suddenly.)

I’m sorry that I let the supper burn—
‘Tis all so sweet, I scarce know what I do—
He came——
Mother
Who came?
11Girl
A stranger that I knew;
And he was weary, so I took him in
And gave him supper, thinking ‘twere a sin
That anyone should want and be denied.
And while he ate, the place seemed glorified,
As though it were the Saviour sitting there!
It could not be the sunset bound his hair
Briefly with golden haloes—made his eyes
Such depths to gaze in with a dumb surprise
While one blinked thrice!—Then suddenly it passed,
And he was some old friend returned at last
After long years.
Mother
A pretty tale, indeed!
And so it was our supper went to feed
A sneaking ne’er-do-well, a shiftless scamp!
Girl
O Mother, wasn’t Jesus Christ a tramp?
12Mother
Hush, will you! hush! ‘Tis plain the Devil’s here!
To think my only child should live to jeer
At holy things!
Father
Come, don’t abuse the maid.
They say He was a carpenter by trade,
Yet no one ever saw the house He built.
Mother
So! Shield the minx! Make nothing of her guilt,
And let the Devil get her—as he will!
I’ll hold my tongue and work, and eat my fill
From what the beggars leave, for all you care!
Quick! Where’s this scoundrel?
Girl
‘Sh! He’s sleeping there
Out in the garden.

(Shows a gold piece.)

Mother, see, he paid
13So much more than he owed us, I’m afraid.
We lose in taking, profit what we give.
Mother

(Taking the coin.)

What! Gold? A clever bargain, as I live!
It’s five times what the fowls brought!—Not so bad!
And yet—I’ll wager ‘tis not all he had—
Eh?
Girl
No—eight hundred rubles in a sack!
Mother
Eight—hundred—rubles! Yet the times are slack,
And coins don’t spawn like fishes, Goodness knows!
I’ll warrant he’s some thief that comes and goes
About the country with a ready smile
And that soft speech that is the Devil’s guile,
Nosing out hoards that reek with honest sweat!
Ha, ha—there’s little here that he can get.

14(Goes to window softly, peers out, then closes the casement.)

Eight—hundred—rubles—
Girl
Mother, had you heard
How loving kindness spoke in every word,
You could not doubt him. O, his eyes were mild,
And there were heavens in them when he smiled!
Mother
Satan can outsmile God.
Girl
No, no, I’m sure
He brought some gift of good that shall endure
And be a blessing to us!
Mother
So indeed!
Eight—hundred—rubles—with the power to breed
Litters of copecks till one need not work!
Eight hundred hundred backaches somehow lurk
15In that snug wallet.

(To the father.)

What’s the thing to do?
Father
It would be pleasant with a pot of brew
To talk until the windows glimmer pale.
‘Tis good to harken to a traveller’s tale
Of things far off where almost no one goes.
Mother
As well to parley with a wind that blows
Across fat fields, yet has no grain to share.
Rubles are rubles, and a tale is air.
I’ll have the rubles!
Girl

(Aghast.)

Mother! Mother dear!
What if ‘twere Ivan sleeping far from here,
And some one else should do this sinful deed!
Mother
Had they not taken my son, I should not need
16Eight hundred rubles now! The world’s made wrong,
And I’ll not live to vex it very long.
Who work should take their wages where they can.
It should have been my boy come back a man,
With this same goodly hoard to bring us cheer.
Now let some other mother peer and peer
At her own window through a blurring pane,
And see the world go out in salty rain,
And start at every gust that shakes the door!
What does a green girl know? You never bore
A son that you should prate of wrong and right!
I tell you, I have wakened in the night,
Feeling his milk-teeth sharp upon my breast,
And for one aching moment I was blest,
Until I minded that ‘twas years ago
These flattened paps went milkless—and I know!
Girl
O Mother! ‘twould be sin!
17Mother
Sin! What is that—
When all the world prowls like a hungry cat,
Mousing the little that could make us glad?
Father
Don’t be forever grieving for the lad.
‘Twas hard, but there are troubles worse than death.
Let’s eat and think it over.
Mother
Save your breath,
Or share your empty prate with one another!
One moment makes a father, but a mother
Is made by endless moments, load on load.

(Pause: then to girl.)

I left a bundle three bends down the road.
Go fetch it.
Girl

(Pleadingly.)

Mother, promise not to do
This awful thing you think.
18Mother

(Seizing a stick from the fireplace.)

I’ll promise you,
And pay in welts—you simpering hussy!

(The girl flees through back door. After a pause the woman turns to the man.)

—Well?
Eight hundred rubles, and no tale to tell—
The fresh earth strewn with leaves—is that the plan?
Father

(Startled.)

Eh?—That?—You mean—You would not kill a man?
Not that!
Mother
Eight—hundred—rubles.
Father
It is much.
Old folk might hobble far with less for crutch—
19But murder!—Rubles spent are rubles still—Blood
squandered—‘tis a fearsome thing to kill!
I know what rubles cost—they all come hard,
But life’s the dearer.
Mother
Kill a hog for lard,
A thief for gold—one reason and one knife!
I tell you, gold is costlier than life!
What price shall we have brought when we are gone?
When Ivan died, the heartless world went on
Breeding more sons that men might still be cheap.
And who but I had any tears to weep?
I mind ‘twas April when the tale was brought
That he’d been lost at sea. I thought and thought
About the way all things were mad to breed—
One big hot itch to suckle or bear seed—
And my boy dead!
Life costly?—Cheap as mud!
You want the rubles, sicken at the blood,
20You grey old limping coward!
Father
Come now, Mother!
I’d kill to live as lief as any other.
You women don’t weigh matters like a man.
I like the gold—‘tis true—but not the plan.
Why not put pebbles where the rubles were,
Then send him forth?
Mother
And set the place a-whir
With a wind of tongues! I tell you, we must kill!
No tale dies harder than a tale of ill.
Once buried, he will tell none.
Father
Let me think—
I’ll go down to the tavern for a drink
To whet my wits—belike the dread will pass.

(He goes out through the back door, shaking his head in perplexity)

21Mother

(Alone.)

He’ll find a coward’s courage in his glass—
Enough to dig a hole when he comes back.

(She goes to shelf and snuffs the candles. The moon shines brightly through the window and the firelight glows. She takes a knife from a table drawer, feels the edge; goes to the window and peers out; turns about, uneasily scanning the room, then moves toward the side door, muttering.)

Eight hundred shining rubles in a sack!

(She goes out softly and closes the door. A cry is heard as of one in a nightmare. After a considerable interval the mother reënters with a small bag which she is opening with nervous fingers. The moonlight falls upon her. Now and then she endeavors to shake something from her hands, which she finally wipes on her apron, muttering the while.)

22When folks get rich they find their fingers dirty.

(She counts the coins in silence for awhile, then aloud.)

Eight and twenty—nine and twenty—thirty—

(Clutching a handful of gold, she suddenly stops counting and stares at the back door. There is the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. The door flies open and the old man enters excitedly.)

Father
Mother! Mother! Wake him! Wake him—quick!
‘Tis Ivan with an old-time, merry trick—
They told me at the tavern—‘tis our son!

(Rushes toward the side door.)

Ivan! Ivan!

(Stops abruptly, aghast at the look of the woman. The coins jangle on the floor)

God! What have you done!

23(As the curtain falls, the singing voice of the returning girl is heard nearer and nearer.)

Girl

(Outside.)

O weary heart and sore,
O yearning eyes that blur,
A hand that drips with myrrh
Is knocking at the door!
The waiting time is o’er,
Be glad, look up and see
How splendid is a dream come true—
‘Tis he! ‘tis he!
27

AGRIPPINA

(The courtyard of the Imperial villa at Baiae. A moonlit night in late March. Occupying the left half of background is seen a portion of the villa. A short, broad flight of steps leads through the arched doorway to a pillared hall beyond, vague, but seeming vast in the uncertain lights that flicker in the draught. To the right of the doorway is a broad open window at the height of a mans head from the courtyard. An urn stands near window in the shadow to the right. From within harp music is heard threading the buzzing merriment of a banquet that is being given to celebrate Nero’s reconciliation with his mother. To the right of stage a glimpse of the moonlit sea is caught through trees.)

28(Enter from left walking toward the sea, Anicetus and the Captain of a galley.)

Captain

(Pointing toward sea.)

Yon lies the galley weltering in the moon.
A fair ship!—like a lady in a swoon
Of languid passion. Never fairer craft
Flung the green rustle of her skirts abaft
And wooed the dwindling leagues!
Anicetus
A boat’s a boat!
And were she thrice the fairest keel afloat
Tonight she founders, sinks—make sure of that!
Captain
And all to drown one lean imperial cat
With claws and teeth too sharp despite the purr!
Ah, scan the graceful woman lines of her!
Fit for the male Wind’s love is she—alas!
Scuttled and buried in a sea of glass
By her own master! It will cost me pain.
29Better a night of lightning-riven rain
With hell-hounds baying in the driven gloom!
Anicetus
The will of Nero is her wind of doom—
Woe to the seaman who defies that gale!
Go now—make ready that we may not fail
To crown the wish of Caesar with the deed.
Captain
Aye, Master!

(Exit Captain toward sea.)

Anicetus
And no brazen wound shall bleed
Red scandal over Rome; the nosing mob
Shall sniff no poison. Just a gulping sob
And some few bubbles breaking on the swell—
Then, good night, Agrippina, rest you well!
And may the gods revamp the silly fish
With guts of brass for coping with that dish!

(A muffled outburst of laughter in banquet hall. 30Anicetus turns toward window. Uproar dies out.)

They’re drinking deep—the banquet’s at its height
And all therein are kings and queens tonight.

(Goes to urn, mounts it and peers in at window.)

A merry crew! Quite drunk, quite drunk I fear,
My noble Romans!—Burrus’ eyes are blear!
One goblet hence, good Burrus, you will howl!
E’en Seneca sits staring like an owl
And strives to pilot in some heavy sea
That wisdom-laden boat, his head. Ah me,
Creperius Gallus, you are floundering deep
In red Falernian bogs, so you shall sleep
Quite soundly while your mistress takes the dip!
Fair Acerronia thinks the place a ship
And greenly sickens in the dizzy roll!
There broods Poppaea, certain of her goal,
Her veil a sea-fog clutching at the moon,
A portent to wise sailors! Very soon
The sea shall wake in hunger and be fed!
31She smiles!—the glimmer on a thunderhead
That vomits ruin!—What has made her smile?
Ah, Nero’s wine is sugared well with guile!
So—kiss your mother—gently fondle her—
Pet the old she-cat till she mew and purr
Unto the tender hand that strokes her back:
So shall there be no sniffing at the sack!
Would that her eyes, like his, with wine were dim!
Gods! What a tragic actor died in him
To make a comic Caesar!
I surmise
By the too rheumy nature of your eyes,
Divine imperial Nero, and their sunk
Lugubrious aspect—pardon!—but you’re drunk,
Drunk as a lackey when the master’s out!
O kingly tears that down that regal snout
Pour salty love upon a mother’s breast!
So shall her timid doubts be lulled to rest!

(Bustle within as of many rising to their feet.)

They rise! The prologue’s ended—now the play!

32(He gets down from urn and goes off toward sea.)

Heralds

(Crying within.)

Make way for Caesar! Ho!
Make way! Make way!

(The musicians within strike up a martial strain. After a few moments, within the hall appear Nero and Agrippina, arm in arm, approaching the flight of steps. Nero is robed in a tunic of the color of amethyst, with a winged harp embroidered on the front. He is crowned with a laurel wreath, now askew in his disordered hair. Agrippina wears a robe of maroon without decoration. Nero endeavors to preserve the semblance of supporting his mother, but in fact is supported by her, while he caresses her with considerable extravagance. They pause half way down the steps, and the music within changes to a low melancholy air.)

33Agrippina

(Lifting her face to the moon seaward.)

How fair a moon to crown our happy revel!
Nero

(Gazing blankly at the moon.)

Eh? Veil the hussy!
Agrippina
Son, son!
Nero
She’s a devil!
Agrippina

(Placing a loving arm closer about Nero.)

Just such a night ‘twas, Lucius—you remember?—
When Claudius’ spirit like a smouldering ember
Struggled ‘twixt flame and ash—do you forget?
Nero
Ha ha—‘twas snuffed—ho ho!
Agrippina

(Stroking his hair.)

‘Twas then I set
34The imperial circlet here; ‘twas then I cloaked
My boy with world-robes!
Nero

(Still staring at moon and pointing unsteadily.)

Have that vixen choked!
Her staring makes me stagger—where’s her veil?
Agrippina
It all comes back like an enchanted tale—
The moon set and the sun rose—
Nero
Dead and gone—
The sun set and the moon rose—
Agrippina
Nay, at dawn
The blear flame died, the new flame blossomed up.
Nero
Did someone drop a poison in my cup?
The windless sea crawls moaning—

(They move slowly down stairs, Nero clinging to his mother.)

35Agrippina
Son of mine,
Cast off the evil humors of the wine!
I am so happy and was so forlorn!
Ah, not another night since you were born
Has flung such purple through me! Son—at last
The haggard hours that parted us are past;
I’ve wept my tears and have no more to shed!
I live—I live—I live! And I was dead.
Nero

(Clinging closer.)

Dead—dead—what ails the sea—‘tis going red—

(Laughter in banquet hall.)

Who’s laughing?—Mother—scourge them from the place!
Who gave the moon Poppaea’s dizzy face
To scare the sea?
Agrippina
Your message gave me life!
Ah, Lucius, not for us to mar with strife
36A world so made for loving!
Lucius dear,
I was too harsh, perhaps; the fault is here.

(Places hand on heart.)

Nero

(Staring into his mother’s eyes.)

Too harsh perhaps—
Agrippina
Yea, so we mothers err:
Too long we see our babies as they were,
And last of all the world confess them tall.
They stride so far—we shudder lest they fall—
They toddle yet.
And she who bears a son
Shall be two women ever after; one
The fountain of a seaward cooing stream,
And one the shrouded virgin of a dream
Whom no man wooes, whose heart, a muted lyre,
Pines with a wild but unconfessed desire
For him who—never understands, my son!
37I’ll be all fountain—kill that other one!
Nero
That other one—
Agrippina
Oh, like a wind of Spring
Wooing the sere grave of a buried thing,
Your summons came! Such happy tendrils creep
Out of me, in that old ache rooted deep,
To blossom sunward greener for the sorrow.
And, O my Emperor, if on the morrow
Your heart could soften toward that gentle one,
That frail white lily pining for the sun,
Octavia, your patient little wife,
Smile, smile upon that flower and give it life!
Make of my Lucius emperor in truth,
Not Passion’s bondman!
‘Tis the way of youth
To drive wild stallions with too slack a rein
Toward fleeing goals no fleetness can attain!
Oh splendid speed that fails for lack of fear!
38The grip of iron makes the charioteer!
The lyric fury heeds the master beat
And is the freer for its shackled feet!
You who are Law shall be more free than others
By seeming less so, Lucius.
Nero
Best of mothers,
Tomorrow—yes, tomorrow—Mother, stay!
You must not go so far, so far away!
Agrippina
Only to Bauli.

(They have reached the extreme right of stage. The guests now begin to come out of banquet hall, scattering a rippling laughter. Nero is aroused by the merry sound, looks back, gathers himself together with a start.)

Nero
Ah! The moon is bright!
The sea is still! We’ll banquet every night,
Shall we not, Mother?
39Certain cares of state
Weigh heavily—‘tis awful to be great—
Nay, terrible at times! Can I be ill?
It seemed the sea moaned—yet ‘tis very still!
Mother, my Mother—kiss me! Let us go
Down to the galley—so.

(They pass out toward the sea, Nero caressing his mother. The guests now throng down the steps into the courtyard. They are in various states of intoxication. Many are dressed to represent mythological figures: Fauns and Satyrs; Bacchus crowned with grape leaves, wearing a leopard skin on his shoulders; six Bacchantes; Psyche with wings; Luna in a spangled tunic with silver horns in her hair; Mercury with winged sandals and the caduceus; Neptune in an emerald robe, crowned and bearing the trident; Iris, rainbow-clad; Silenus. Some are dressed in brilliant oriental garments. There are Senators in broad bordered togas 40with half moons embroidered on their sandals; Pages dressed as Cupids and infant Bacchi; Officers of the Praetorian Guard in military uniform. Turbaned, half nude Numidian slaves, with bronze rings in their ears, come trotting in with litters, attended by torchbearers. Some of the guests depart in the litters. The music continues in banquet hall.)

Neptune

(Staggering against Luna.)

Who’d be a sailor when great Neptune staggers
Dashed in the Moon’s face!—Calm me, gentle Luna,
And silver me with kisses!
Luna

(Fleeing from his outstretched arms, but regarding him invitingly over her shoulder.)

Fie, you wine-skin!
A hiccough’s not a tempest! Lo, I glide,
Treading a myriad stars!

41(Neptune follows with a rolling gait.)

A Satyr

(Looking after them as they disappear.)

Roll, eager Tide!
Methinks ere long the wooing moon shall fall!

(Those near laugh.)

First Senator

(To Second Senator.)

Was Nero acting, think you?
Second Senator
Not at all.
‘Twas staged, no doubt, but—
First Senator
Softly, lest they hear!
Second Senator
The mimic is in mimicry sincere—
The rôle absorbed the actor. So he wept.

(They pass on, talking low.)

A Praetorian Officer

(To Psyche leaning on his arm.)

Was it a vision, Psyche? Have I slept?
42By the pink-nippled Cyprian, I swear
Our Caesar knows a woman! Gods! That hair!
Spun from the bowels of Ophir!
Psyche
Who’s so fair?
Praetorian
Poppaea!
Psyche
She?—A Circe, queen of hogs!
A cross-road Hecate, bayed at by the dogs!
A morbid Itch—
Praetorian
Sh!
Psyche
—strutting in a cloak
Of what she has not, virtue!
Praetorian
Ha! You joke!
All cloaks are ruses, fashioned to reveal
43What all possess, pretending to conceal—
Who’d love a Psyche else?

(They pass on.)

Iris

(To a Satyr who supports her.)

A clever wile
Her veil is! Ah, we women must beguile
The stupid male by seeming to withhold
What’s dross, displayed, but, guarded well, is gold!
Faugh! Hunger sells it and the carter buys!
Satyr
Consume me with the lightning of her eyes!
She’s Aphrodite!
Iris
Helen!
Satyr
Helen, then!
A peep behind that veil, and once again
The sword-flung music of the fighting men,
Voluptuous ruin and wild battle joy,
44The swooning ache and rapture that was Troy!
Delirious doom!
Iris

(Laughing.)

O Sorcery of Night!
We’re all one woman in the morning light!
Satyr

(Laughing.)

You’re jealous!
Iris
No, I rend the veil in twain!

(They mingle with the throng.)

Silenus

(To a Naval Officer.)

The wind veers and the moon seems on the wane!
What bodes it—reinstatement for the Queen?
Naval Officer
No seaman knows the wind and moon you mean;
Yet land were safer when those signs concur!

(They pass on.)

45Mercury

(To a Bacchante.)

‘Twould rouse compassion in a toad, and stir
A wild boar’s heart with pity!
Bacchante

(Placing a warning hand on his mouth.)

Hush! Beware!
Mercury
Could you not feel the hidden gorgon stare
The venom of her laughter dripping slow?

(The musicians from within, having followed the departing throng from the banquet hall, and having stationed themselves on the steps, now strike up a wild Bacchic air.)

Bacchus

(Swinging into the dance.)

Bacchantes, wreathe the dance!
Bacchantes

(From various parts of the throng.)

Io, Bacche! Io!

46(Pirouetting to the music, they assemble, circling about Bacchus, joining hands and singing. When the song is finished, the circle breaks, the dancers wheel, facing outward. Bacchus endeavors to kiss a Bacchante who regards him with head thrown back. The dance music becomes more abandoned, and the Bacchante flees, pursued by Bacchus, who reels as he dances. All the other Bacchantes follow, weaving in and out between pursuer and pursued. The throng laughingly makes way for them. At length the pursued Bacchante flings off in a mad whirl toward the grove in the background, followed by Bacchus and the Bacchantes. Fauns and Satyrs now take up the dance and join in the pursuit. The throng follows eagerly, enjoying the spectacle. All disappear among the trees. Laughter in the distance, growing dimmer. The musicians withdraw into the villa and disappear, their music dying 47out. The lights go out in the banquet hall. The stage is now lit by the moon alone, save for the draughty lamps within the pillared hall.

After a period of silence, re-enter Nero, walking backward from the direction of the sea toward which he gazes.)

Nero
Dimmer—dimmer—dimmer—
A shadow melting in a moony shimmer
Down the bleak seaways dwindling to that shore
Where no heaved anchor drips forevermore
Nor winds breathe music in the homing sail:
But over sunless hill and fruitless vale,
Gaunt spectres drag the age-long discontent
And ponder what this brief, bright moment meant—
The loving—and the dreaming—and the laughter.
Ah, ships that vanish take what never after
Returning ships may carry.
Dawn shall flare,
Make bloom the terraced gardens of the air
48For all the world but Lucius. He shall see
The haunted hollow of Infinity
Gray in the twilight of a heart’s eclipse.
With our own wishes woven into whips
The jealous gods chastise us!—I’m alone!
About the transient brilliance of my throne
The giddy moths flit briefly in the glow;
But when at last that light shall flicker low,
A taper guttering in a gust of doom,
What hand shall grope for Nero’s in the gloom,
What fond eyes shed the fellows of his tears?
She bore her heart these many troublous years
Before me, like a shield. And she is dead.
Her hand ‘twas set the crown upon my head;
Her heart’s blood dyed the kingly robe for me.
Dank seaweed crowns her, and the bitter sea
Enshrouds with realmless purple!
Round and round,
Swirled in the endless nightmare of the drowned,
Her fond soul gropes for something vaguely dear
49That lures, eludes forever. Shapes that leer,
Distorted Neros of a tortured sleep,
Cry “Mother, come to Baiae.” Deep on deep
The green death folds her and she can not come.
Vague, gaping mouths that hunger and are dumb
Mumble the tired heart so ripe with woe,
Where night is but a black wind breathing low
And daylight filters like a ghostly rain!
O Mother! Mother! Mother!

(With arms extended, he stares seaward a moment, then covers his face, turns, and walks slowly toward entrance of villa.)

Vain, ‘tis vain!
How shall one move an ocean with regret?

(He has reached the steps and pauses.)

Ah, one hope lives in all this bleakness yet.
Song!—Mighty Song the hurt of life assuages!
This fateful night shall fill the vaulted ages
With starry grief, and men unborn shall sing
The mournful measure of the Ancient King!
50I’ll write an ode!

(He stands for a moment, glorified with the thought.)

Great heart of Nero, strung
Harplike, endure till this last song be sung,
Then break—then break—

(Turns and mounts the steps.)

Oh Fate, to be a bard!
The way is hard, the way is very hard!

(A dim outburst of laughter from the revellers in the distance.)

II

(The same night. Nero’s private chamber in his villa at Baiae. Nero is discovered asleep in his state robes on a couch, where he has evidently thrown himself down, overcome by the stupor incident to the feast of the night. Beside the couch is a writing stand, bearing writing materials. A few lights burn dimly. Nero groans, cries out, and, as though terrified 51by a nightmare, sits up, trembling and staring upon some projected vision of his sleep. He is yet only half awake.)

Nero
Oh—oh—begone, blear thing!—She is not dead!
You are not she—my mother!—Ghastly head—
Trunkless—and oozing green gore like the sea,
Wind-stabbed! Begone! Go—do not look at me—
I will not be so tortured!—Eyes burned out
With scorious hell-spew!—Locks that grope about
To clutch and strangle!

(He has got up from the couch and now struggles with something at his throat, still staring at the thing.)

Off! Off!

(In an outburst of terrified tenderness extends his arms as toward a woman.)

Mother—mother—come
Into these arms—speak to me—be not dumb!
52Stare not so wildly—kiss me as of old!
Be flesh again—warm flesh! Oh green and cold
As the deep grave they gave you!
‘Twas not I!
Mother, ‘twas not my will that you should die—
‘Twas hers!—I hate her! Mother, pity me!
Oh, is it you?—Sole goddess of the sea
I shall proclaim you! Pity! I shall pour
The hot blood of your foes on every shore,
A huge libation! Hers shall be the first!
I swear it! May my waking be accursed,
My sleep a-swarm with furies if I err!

(He has advanced a short distance toward what he sees, but now shrinks back burying his face in his robe.)

Go!—Spare me!—Guards! Guards!

(Three soldiers, who have been standing guard without the chamber, rush in and stand at attention.)

Seize and shackle her!
53There ‘tis!—eh?

(He stares blankly, rubs his eyes.)

It is gone!

(Blinks at soldiers, and cries petulantly.)

What do you here?
First Soldier
Great Caesar summoned us.
Nero

(Glancing nervously about.)

The night is blear—
Make lights! I will not have these shadow things
Crawling about me! Poisoners of kings
Fatten on shadows! Quick there, dog-eyed scamp,
Lean offal-sniffer! Kindle every lamp!

(Soldier tremblingly takes a lamp and lights a number of others with its flame. Stage is flooded with light.)

By the bronze beard I swear there shall be lights
Enough hereafter, though I purge the nights
With conflagrating cities, till the crash
54Of Rome’s last tower beat up the smouldering ash
Of Rome’s last city!
So—I breathe again!
Some cunning, faceless god who hated men
Devised this curse of darkness! What’s the hour?
Second Soldier
The third watch wanes.
Nero
Too late! Too late! The power
Of Nero Caesar can not stay the sun!
The stars have marched against me—it is done!
And all Rome’s legions could not rout this swarm
Of venom-footed moments!
—She was warm
One little lost eternity ago.

(With awakening resolution.)

‘Twas not my deed! I did not wish it so!
Some demon, aping Caesar, gave the word
While Lucius Aenobarbus’ eyes were blurred
With too much beauty!
55Oh, it shall be done!
Ere these unmothered eyes behold the sun,
She shall have vengeance, and that gift is mine!

(To First Soldier.)

Rouse the Praetorians! Bid a triple line
Be flung about the palace!

(To Second Soldier.)

Send me wine—
Strong wine to nerve a resolution!

(To Third Soldier.)

You—
Summon Poppaea!

(The Soldiers go out.)

This deed I mean to do
Unties the snarl, but broken is the thread.
Would that the haughty blood these hands will shed
Might warm my mother! that the breath I crush—
So—(clutching air) from that throat of sorceries, might rush
Into the breast that loved and nurtured me!
56The heart of Nero shivers in the sea,
And Rome is lorn of pity!
Could the world
And all her crawling spawn this night be hurled
Into one woman’s form, with eyes to shed
Rivers of scalding woe, her towering head
Jeweled with realms aflare, with locks of smoke,
Huge nerves to suffer, and a neck to choke—
That woman were Poppaea! I would rear
About the timeless sea, my mother’s bier,
A sky-roofed desolation groined with awe,
Where, nightly drifting in the stream of law,
The vestal stars should tend their fires, and weep
To hear upon the melancholy deep
That shipless wind, her ghost, amid the hush!
Alas! I have but one white throat to crush
With these world-hungry fingers!

(From behind Nero, enter Page—a little boy—bearing a goblet of wine on a salver. Nero turns, startled.)

57Ah!—You!—You!
Page
I bring wine, mighty Caesar.

(Nero passes his hand across his face, and the expression of fright leaves.)

Nero
So you do—
I saw—the boy Brittanicus!—One sees—
Things—does one not?—such eerie nights as these?
Page

(With eager boyish earnestness.)

With woozy heads?
Nero

(Irritably.)

The wine!

(The Page, startled, presents the salver, from which Nero takes the goblet with unsteady hand. Page is in the act of fleeing.)

Stay!

58(Page stops and turns tremblingly.)

Never dare
Again to look like—anyone! Beware!

(Page’s head shakes a timid negative. Nero stares into goblet and muses.)

Blood’s red too. Ah, a woman is the grape
Ripe for the vintage, from whose flesh agape
Glad feet tonight shall stamp the hated ooze!
It boils!—See!—like some witch’s pot that brews
Venomous ichor!—Nay—some angry ghost
Hurls bloody breakers on a bleeding coast!—
’Tis poisoned!—Out, Locusta’s brat!

(Hurls goblet at Page, who flees precipitately.)

‘Twas she!
The hand that flung my mother to the sea
Now pours me death!
Alas, great Hercules
Too long has plied the distaff at the knees
Of Omphale, spinning a thread of woe!
Was ever king of story driven so
59By unrelenting Fate? Lo, round on round
The slow coils grip and choke—a mother drowned,
Her wrathful spirit rising from the dead—
A gentle wife outcast, discredited,
With sighs to wake the dread Eumenides!
Some thunder-hearted, vaster Sophocles,
His aeon-beating blood the stellar stream,
Has flung on me the mantle of his dream,
And Nero grapples Fate! O wondrous play!
With smoking brand aloft, the haggard Day
Gropes for the world! Pursued by subtle foes,
Superbly tragic ‘mid a storm of woes,
The fury-hunted Caesar takes the cue!
One time-outstaring deed remains to do,
Then let the pit howl—Caesar sings no more!
Go ask the battered wreckage on the shore
Who sought his mother in a sudden sleep,
To be with her forever on the deep
A twin ship-hating tempest!

(Enter Anicetus excitedly.)

60Anicetus
Lost! We’re lost!
The Roman ship yaws rock-ward tempest-tossed
And Nero is but Lucius in the wreck!
Nero
Croak on! Each croak’s a dagger in that neck,
You vulture with the hideous dripping beak,
The clutching tearing talons that now reek
With what dear sacred veins!
Anicetus
O Caesar, hear!
So keen the news I bear you, that I fear
To loose it like the arrow it must be.
I know not why such wrath you heap on me;
I know what peril deepens ‘round my lord;
How, riven by the lightning of the sword,
The doom-voiced blackness labors round his head!
Nero
Say what I know, that my poor mother’s dead—
So shall your life be briefer!
61Anicetus
Would ‘t were so!
Nero

(A light coming into his face.)

She lives?
Anicetus
Yea, lives—and lives to overthrow!
Nero
Not perished?
Anicetus
—And her living is our death!
Nero
She moves and breathes?
Anicetus
—And potent is her breath
To blow rebellion up!
Nero

(Rubbing his eyes.)

Still do I sleep?
62Is this a taunting dream that I may weep
More bitterly? Or some new foul intrigue?
Anicetus
‘Tis bitter fact to her who swam a league,
And bitter fact to Nero shall it be!
At Bauli now, still dripping from the sea,
She crouches snarling!
Nero

(In an outburst of joy.)

Oh, you shall not die,
My best-loved Anicetus! Though you lie,
Sweeter these words are than profoundest truth!
They breathe the fresh, white morning of my youth
Upon the lampless night that smothered me!
O more than human Sea
That spared my mother that her son might live!
What bounty can I give?
I—Caesar—falter beggared at this gift
Of living words that lift
63My mother from the regions of the dead!
Ah—I shall set a crown upon your head,
Snip you a kingdom from Rome’s flowing robe!
I’ll temple you in splendors! Yea, I’ll probe
Your secret heart to know what wishes pant
In wingless yearning there, that I may grant!

(Pause, while Anicetus regards Nero with gloomy face.)

What sight thus makes your face a pool of gloom?
Anicetus
The ghost of Nero crying from his tomb!
Nero

(Startled.)

Eh?—Nero’s ghost—mine?
Anicetus
Even so I said.
The doomed to perish are already dead
Who woo not Fate with swift unerring deeds!
That breathless moment when the tigress bleeds
Is ours to strike in, ere the tigress spring!
64What could it boot your servant to be king
While any moment may the trumpets cry,
Hailing the certain hour when we shall die—
Caesar, the deaf, and his untrusted slave?
Peer deep, peer deep into this yawning grave
And tell me who shall fill it!—Wind and fire,
Harnessed with thrice the ghost of her dead sire,
Your mother is tonight! She knows, she knows
How galleys founder when no tempest blows
And moonlight slumbers on a glassy deep!
The beast our wound has wakened shall not sleep
Till it be gorged with slaughter, or be slain!
Lull not your heart, O Caesar! It is vain
To dream this cub-lorn tigress will not turn.
Lo, flaring through the dawn I see her burn,
A torch of revolution! Hear her raise
The legions with a voice of other days,
Worded with pangs to fret their ancient scars!
And every sword-wound of her father’s wars
Will shriek aloud with pity!
65Nero

(During Anicetus’ speech he has shown growing fear.)

Listen!—There!
You heard it?—Did you hear a trumpet blare?
Anicetus
‘Tis but the shadow of a sound to be
One rushing hour away!
Nero

(In panic.)

Where shall I flee?—
I, the sad poet whom she made a king!
At last we flesh the ghost of what we sing—
We bards!—I sang Orestes.

(His face softens with a gentler thought.)

Ah—I’ll go
To my poor heartsick mother. Tears shall flow,
The tears of Lucius, not imperial tears.
I’ll heap on her the vast, too vast arrears
Of filial love. The Senate shall proclaim
66My mother regnant with me—write her name
Beside Augustus with the demigods!
Yea, lictors shall attend her with the rods,
And massed Praetorians tramp the rabble down
Whene’er her chariot flashes through the town!
One should be kind to mothers.
Anicetus
Yea, and be
Kind to the senseless fury of the sea,
Fondle the tempest in a rotten boat!
Nero
What would you, Anicetus?
Anicetus
Cut her throat!

(Nero gasps and shrinks from Anicetus.)

Nero
No, no!—her ghost!—one can not stab so deep—
One can not kill these tortures spawned of sleep!
No, no—one can not kill them with a sword!
67Anicetus
Faugh! One good thrust—the rest is air, my lord!

(Enter Page timorously. Nero turns upon him.)

Page

(Frightened.)

Spare me, good Caesar!—Agerinus—
Nero
Go!
Bid Agerinus enter!

(Page flees. Nero to Anicetus menacingly.)

We shall know
What breath from what damned throat tonight shall hiss!

(Enter Agerinus, bowing low.)

Agerinus
My mistress sends fond greetings and a kiss
To her most noble son, and bids me say,
She rests and would not see him until day.
The royal galley, through unhappy chance,
Struck rock and foundered; but no circumstance
68So meagre might deprive a son so dear
Of his beloved mother! Have no fear,
The long swim leaves her weary, but quite well.
She knows what tender love her son would tell
And yearns for dawn to bring him to her side.
Nero

(To Anicetus.)

So! Spell your doom from that! You lied! You lied!
I’ll lance that hateful fester in your throat!
Yea, we shall prove who rides the rotten boat
And supplicates the tempest!

(With a rapid motion, Nero draws Agerinus’ sword from its sheath. Anicetus shrinks back. Nero cries to Agerinus.)

Wait to see
The loving message you bear back from me!

(Nero brandishing the sword, makes at Anicetus. As he is about to deliver the stroke, enter Poppaea from behind. She has evidently been 69quite leisurely about her toilet, being dressed gorgeously; and wearing her accustomed half-veil. Her manner is stately and composed. She approaches slowly. Nero stops suddenly in the act to strike Anicetus, and stares upon the beautiful apparition. Anger leaves his face, which changes as though he had seen a great light.)

Poppaea

(Languidly.)

My Nero longed for me?

(Nero with his free hand brushes his eyes in perplexity.)

Nero
I—can not—tell—
What—‘twas—I wished—I wished—
Poppaea

(Haughtily.)

Ah, very well.

(She walks slowly on across the stage. Nero 70stares blankly after her. The sword drops from his hand. As Poppaea disappears, he rouses suddenly as from a stupor.)

Nero
Ho! Guards!

(Three soldiers enter. Nero points to Agerinus.)

There—seize that wretch who came to kill Imperial Caesar!

(Agerinus is seized. Nero turns to Anicetus.)

Hasten! Do your will!

(Nero turns, and with an eager expression on his face, goes doddering after Poppaea.)

III

(The same night. Agrippina’s private chamber in her villa at Bauli near Baiae. There is one lamp in the room. At the center back is a broad door closed with heavy hangings. At the right is an open window through which the moonlight falls. Agrippina is discovered 71lying on a couch. One maid, Nina, is in attendance and is arranging Agrippina’s hair.)

Agrippina
He was so tender—what should kindness mean?

(The maid seems not to hear.)

I spoke!—you heard me speak?
Nina
I heard, my Queen.
Agrippina
And deemed my voice some ghostly summer wind
Fit for autumnal hushes? He was kind!
Was ever breath in utterance better spent?
Nina
Your slave could scarcely fancy whom you meant,
There are so many tender to the great.
Agrippina
When all the world is one sky-circled state,
Pray, who shall fill it as the sun the sky?
The mother of that mighty one am I—
72And he caressed me!
I shall feel no pain
Forever now. So, drenched with winter rain,
The friendless marshland knows the boyish South
And shivers into color!
On the mouth
He kissed me, as before that other came—
That Helen of the stews, that corpse aflame
With lust for life, that—
Ah, he maidened me!
What dying wind could sway so tall a tree
With such proud music? I shall be again
That darkling whirlwind down the fields of men,
That dart unloosed, barbed keenly for his sake,
That living sword for him to wield or break,
But never sheathe!

(Lifts herself on elbow.)

O Nina, let me be
Robed as the Queen I am in verity!
Robed as a victrix home from splendid wars,
73Whom, ‘mid the rumble of spoil-laden cars
Trundled by harnessed kings, the trumpets hail!
Let quiet garments be for those who fail,
Mourning a world ill-lost with meek surrenders!
I would flare bright ‘mid Death’s unhuman splendors,
Dazzle the moony hollows of the dead!
Ah no—

(Arising and going to window.)

I shall not die yet.

(Parts the curtains and gazes out.)

Nina
‘Tis the dread
Still clinging from the clutches of the sea,
That living, writhing horror! Ugh! O’er me
Almost I feel the liquid terror crawl!
Through glassy worlds of tortured sleep to fall,
Where winds blow not, nor mornings ever blush,
But green, cold, ghastly light-wraiths wander—
74Agrippina

(Turning from window with nervous anger.)

Hush!

(Turns again to window; after pause, continues musingly.)

She battles in a surf of spectral fire.
No—like some queen upon a funeral pyre,
Gasping, she withers in a fever swoon.
Had she a son too?
Nina

(Approaching the window.)

Who, O Queen?
Agrippina
The moon!
See, she is strangled in a noose of pearl!
What tell-tale scars she has!
—Look yonder, girl—
Your eyes are younger—by the winding sea
Where Baiae glooms and blanches; it may be
Old eyes betray not, but some horsemen take
75The white road winding hither by the lake.
Nina
The way lies plain—I see no moving thing.
Agrippina
Why thus is Agerinus loitering?
For he was ever true.

(Joyously.)

Ah foolish head!
My heart knows how my son shall come instead,
My little Lucius! Even now he leaps
Into the saddle and the dull way creeps
Beneath the spurred impatience of his horse,
He longs so for me!

(Pause—She scans the moonlit country.)

Shrouded like a corse,
Hoarding a mother’s secret, lies the sea;
And Capri, like a giant Niobe,
Outgazes Fate!
O sweet, too gentle lies
And kisses sword-like! Would the sun might rise
76No more on Baiae! Would that earth might burst
Spewing blear doom upon this world accursed
With truth too big for hiding!
See! He sleeps
Beside her, and the shame-dimmed lamp-light creeps
Across her wine-stained mouth—so red—so red—
Like mother blood!—See! hissing round her head
Foul hate-fanged vipers that he calls her hair!
Ah no—beyond all speaking is she fair!
Sweet as a sword-wound in a gasping foe
Her mouth is; and too well, too well I know
Her face is dazzling as a funeral flame
Battened on queen’s flesh!

(Turning angrily from window.)

Oh the blatant shame!
The bungling drunkard’s plot!—Tonight, tonight
I shall swoop down upon them by the light
Of naked steel! Faugh! Had it come to that?
Had Rome no sword, that like a drowning rat
The mother of a king should meet her end?
77What Gallic legion would not call me friend?
Did they not love Germanicus, my sire?
Oh, I will rouse the cohorts, scattering fire
Till all Rome blaze rebellion!

(She has advanced to a place beside the couch, stands in a defiant attitude for a moment, then covers her face with her hands and sinks to the couch.)

No, no, no—
It could not be, I would not have it so!
Not mine to burn the tower my hands have built!
And somewhere ‘mid the shadows of his guilt
My son is good.

(Lifts herself on elbow.)

Look, Nina, toward the roofs
Of sleeping Baiae. Say that eager hoofs
Beat a white dust-cloud moonward.

(Nina goes to window and peers out.)

Nina
Landward crawls
78A sea fog; Capri’s league-long shadow sprawls
Lengthening toward us—soon the moon will set.
Agrippina
No horsemen?
Nina
None, my Queen.
Agrippina
—And yet—and yet—
He called me baby names. Ah, ghosts that wept
Big tears down smiling faces, twined and crept
About my heart, and still I feel their tears.
They make me joyous.—After all these years,
The little boy my heart so often dirged
Shivered the man-husk, beardless, and emerged!
He kissed my breasts and hung upon my going!
Once more I felt the happy nurture flowing,
The silvery, tingling shivers of delight!
What though my end had come indeed tonight—
I was a mother!
—Have you children?
79Nina
No,
My Queen.
Agrippina
Yet you are winsome.
Nina
Lovers go
Like wind, as lovers come; I am unwed.
Agrippina
How lonely shall you be among the dead
Where hearts remember, but are lorn of hope!
Poor girl! No dream of tiny hands that grope,
And coaxing, hunting little mouths shall throw
Brief glories ‘round you!
Nina, I would go
Like any brazen bawd along the street,
Hailing the first stout carter I should meet,
Ere I would perish childless! Though we nurse
The cooing thing that some day hurls the curse,
Forge from our hearts the matricidal sword,
80The act of loving is its own reward.
We mothers need no pity!
‘Twill be said,
When this brief war is done, and I am dead,
That I was wanton, shameless—be it so!
Unto the swarm of insect scribes I throw
The puffed-up purple carcass of my name
For them to feast on! Pointed keen with shame,
How shall each busy little stylus bite
A thing that feels not! I have fought my fight!
That mine were but the weapons of the foe,
Too well the ragged scars I bear can show.
Oh, I have triumphed, and am ripe to die!
About my going shall the trumpets cry
Forever and forever!
I can thread
The twilit under-regions of the dead
A radiant shadow with a heart that sings!
Before the myriad mothers of great kings
I shall lift up each livid spirit hand
81Spotted with blood—and they shall understand
How small the price was!
Nina
Hark!

(The tramp of soldiery and the clatter of arms are heard from without. Nina, panic-stricken, runs to window, peers out, shrinks back, and, turning, flees by a side door.)

Agrippina
Why do you flee?
Did I not say my son would come to me?
‘Tis Nero—Nero Caesar, Lord of Rome!
My little boy grown tall is coming home!

(She goes to window, peers out, shrinks back, then turns toward the door and sees three armed men standing there—Anicetus, the Captain of a Galley and a Centurion of the Navy. The men stare at her without moving.)

Why come you here?

(Silence.)

82To know my health?—Go tell
My son, your master, I am very well—
And happy—

(The men make no reply. Agrippina straightens her body haughtily.)

—If like cowards in the night
You come to stab a woman—
Anicetus

(Drawing his sword and speaking to Captain.)

Snuff the light!

(The men spring forward with drawn swords. Agrippina does not move. The light is stricken out.)

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

  1. Added missing period to many stage directions to conform with majority practice in book.
  2. Changed 'faneless' to 'faceless' on p. 54.
  3. Silently corrected typographical errors.
  4. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Two Mothers, by John Gneisenau Neihardt

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWO MOTHERS ***

***** This file should be named 53642-h.htm or 53642-h.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
        http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/6/4/53642/

Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)

Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will
be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
States without permission and without paying copyright
royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive
specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this
eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook
for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports,
performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given
away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks
not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the
trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.

START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at
www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your
possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the
person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph
1.E.8.

1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this
agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the
Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual
works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting
free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm
works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily
comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when
you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no
representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
country outside the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear
prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work
on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed,
performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

  This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
  most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
  restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
  under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
  eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
  United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you
  are located before using this ebook.

1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is
derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm
trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works
posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format
other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official
version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site
(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain
Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the
full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
provided that

* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
  the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
  you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
  to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has
  agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
  Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
  within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
  legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
  payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
  Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
  Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
  Literary Archive Foundation."

* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
  you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
  does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
  License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
  copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
  all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm
  works.

* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
  any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
  electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
  receipt of the work.

* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
  distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than
are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The
Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm
trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO
OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in
accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or
additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any
Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm

Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future
generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at
www.gutenberg.org



Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.

The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the
mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its
volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous
locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt
Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to
date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and
official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

For additional contact information:

    Dr. Gregory B. Newby
    Chief Executive and Director
    [email protected]

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular
state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works.

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be
freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of
volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
edition.

Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org

This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.