Thomas Wolfe, page 535
richard: Here! Let me have it. Been so long since I—(He sights the rifle with a swift sure movement.) It’s light as a feather! Easy to handle as—(He notices Tom’s sardonic grin and releases the rifle in deep disgust.) Here! Take the damn thing! I don’t want to ever see it again.
tom weaver (ironically): Yeh! I seen how you fought shy of hit. (He digs Richard in the ribs with a dry cackle.) You’ll do, Dick, you’ll do.
richard [Richard turns on Tom] (angrily): What?—Ah! [He flings himself in chair—right of table.]
tom weaver [sets gun down] (coming up to him and speaking very earnestly): Son, I’m a broken down ole man but as long as I can tote a gun an’ see to shoot one I’m ready to fight a Gudger. Yore pa an’ I have waited fer ye, Dick, an’ ye ain’t goin’ back on us now. Yore pa’s gittin’ ole, Dick, an’ yore young an’ stout as a mule. [Tom bends over Richard’s chair.] You’re a Weaver, Dick. Don’t ye know what that means? Thar ain’t nothin’ else ye can do but go with yore tribe.
richard (rising furiously): There’s not? Well, we’ll see, Uncle Tom. We’ll just see about that.
tom weaver (with a tolerant smile): Go on with the fireworks, son. You’ll tone down when the time comes. You’re yore daddy over again an’ I know how he was. [Puts gun back by hearth.]
There is a knocking at the door. Richard starts to answer it but Laura passes by in the hall. She pauses a moment.
laura: Supper’s ready, you folks. I’ll see who’s here.
She opens the door and ushers in a mountaineer, a man of thirty-five, evidently in a suppressed but highly keyed state of excitement. He shuffles in awkwardly, looks apprehensively at Richard and Tom, snatches his hat off suddenly and stands twisting it in his hands.
the man [anxiously]: Good evenin’, Miss Laura. I come to see yore pa. Is he in?
laura: Yes. I’ll get him for you. Have a seat.
She goes out. Tom has been looking suspiciously at the visitor all the time and now half bustles up to him.
tom weaver: Ain’t ye one of them Roberts?
the man (half defiantly): Ed Roberts my name.
tom weaver (contemptuously): Hah! I knowed hit! What air ye doin’ hyeh?
At this point Weaver enters, the man turns to him swiftly and speaks to him rapidly, earnestly, and with a note of pleading in his voice.
the man: Doc, I come to ask ye to go out to my place with me. My leetle gal’s been took with a cold an’ she’s been gaspin’ since mornin’ like she couldn’t git her breath.
weaver: Where do you live?
the man: Out on Beaverdam. I got a team hyeh, I’m all ready to go. (Weaver starts for desk.)
tom weaver [Tom at chair L.] (interjecting roughly): D’ye know who this feller is, Dick? His name is Roberts; he’s a cousin of Clem Gudger’s.
richard [1 step forward] (excitedly): It doesn’t make any difference who he is. One of us ought to go with him.
[Weaver walks over to desk—his back to Roberts.]
the man (pleading earnestly to Weaver): Doc, ye ain’t goin’ to throw me down count o’ that, air ye? I ain’t never had nothing to do with Clem Gudger nor his crowd. I ain’t never harmed ye, Doc. I swear I ain’t. [Roberts crosses to desk.] The ole woman’s nigh crazy ’bout the gal, Doc. [Weaver at desk.] If I come back without ye I don’t know what she’d do.
richard (in great excitement, breaking in) [comes down, crosses to Weaver]: Pa! Let me go with him. I can—
weaver (his pride touched into a moment’s anger): It’s all right. I’m still able to tend to my own patients. (He writes rapidly on the top of his desk.) Here, Roberts [Roberts crosses quickly to him.], take this prescription down to Joe Wetherby’s. Go to his house, the store’s closed. Come back here as quick as you’ve got it filled. Make it quick, now, do you hear?
The Man snatches the prescription and goes out quickly. The door closes and his heavy boots may be heard clattering down the steps. There is absolute silence for a moment while Tom looks with amazement at his brother.
tom weaver [Tom crosses to front of table L.]: You don’t aim to go out thar with that feller, do ye?
weaver (firmly): I do.
tom weaver: Didn’t I tell ye he’s Clem Gudger’s cousin?
weaver: I’d go if it was Clem Gudger himself, Tom.
richard [Richard steps forward right] (with enthusiasm): That’s right, pa.
tom weaver (in deep disgust): Hell! This beats all I ever heerd of.
weaver [crosses to Tom] (slapping him affectionately on the back): You mustn’t take these things so seriously, Tom. I’m a doctor and I can’t draw the line on a man because his family isn’t agreeable to me.
tom weaver: All the same we’ve got to stick together. We can’t let it go gittin’ ’round that we’re hobnobbin’ with any o’ that crowd.
weaver: Pshaw! Don’t make a mountain out of a mole hill, Tom. Think of the man’s little girl. You can’t let a child suffer. She might have pneumonia from the way he talked. (There are sounds of footsteps on the steps outside.) He’s getting back mighty quick. (A knocking at the door.) Must be somebody else. (He opens the door. A man, breathless from running, and greatly agitated, runs in.)
weaver: What is it, Sam? (Noting his agitation and speaking sharply.) What’s the matter, Sam?
sam: Where’s Tom? Is he here?
weaver (jerking his head): Inside. Come on in. (Sam comes in quickly.)
sam [Sam comes back of table C.]: Clem Gudger killed Joe while ago.
tom weaver (leaping forward) [to L. of table]: What! Where was he?
sam: Joe went into Clem’s store and tol’ him he was the one who shot at him last week. Clem had been drinkin’ an’ he said: “No, damn ye, but I’ll git ye now.” So he pulled a gun from under his counter an’ shot him.
tom weaver (turning passionately to Weaver and speaking in a voice choked with rage) [Sam moves to R. of table. Richard listens deeply agitated.]: What did I tell ye? I knowed it was comin’. I’ve seen ’em with their heads together talkin’—all of ’em as quiet as rats when ye walked by ’em, an’ I knowed hit was comin’. Now, damn ’em, we’ll have it out. (To Sam.) Where air they now?
sam: Clem an’ two of the Fitzpatrick boys air down in the store with the doors locked. They’re waiting on ye to come, I reckon. (Mag and Laura enter. [Laura crosses to “Paw” quickly.])
mag: What is hit, Tom? (Quickly.) Has thar been shootin’ agin?
tom weaver [at door]: Joe Weaver’s been killed. I was jest goin’ t’ git the boys. You stay here with Laurie, Mag. [Turning to Weaver.] By drivin’ hard I can git back in four hours. Can you an’ Dick drive over to Beaverdam an’ get Cousin Joe and Bob Blackwell?
weaver (slowly): Why—I reckon, Tom.
tom weaver: We’ll have to hurry to do it in four hours. Sam you come along with me. (He starts to go.)
mag [Mag stopping him]: Oh, Lord, I knowed hit was comin’ agin. An’ now ye’ll go out thar, Tom, an’ like as not git shot.
tom weaver: You close yore trap, Mag. I ain’t got no time to go foolin’ with you.
mag: No, you hain’t never had no time to think of me. What’s to become of me, Tom? A lot you care an’ I’ve slaved fer ye nigh onto twenty-five year.
tom weaver [pushes her aside to L.] (roughly): You stay like I tol’ you with Laurie. I’ll come an’ git you as soon as it’s over.
mag: More’n likely they’ll bring ye in with a bullet in you.
tom weaver (quickly): Come on, Sam. I’ll be expectin’ ye back, Dick. (He goes out with Sam.)
weaver (quietly after a moment to Richard): I’ll go get the buggy out. Meet me out front. [Starts for door.]
richard (in a low voice): I’m not going with you. I’ll go with Roberts when he comes back.
weaver [stops, turns a few steps towards Richard] (firmly): No, you’ll come with me, Dick. There’s nothing else you can do. (Roberts comes in quickly.)
roberts [coming to Weaver]: Well, I’m ready, Doc. I got the medicine an’ I reckon we better not lose no more time.
weaver (after some hesitation): I’m sorry, Roberts, but I can’t go with you now.
roberts: What’s that? Aw—Doc, ye can’t mean it. Why, ye jest tol’ me ye’d go with me.
weaver: I know, but something has happened since then that makes it impossible. (Roberts [takes steps] hopefully to Richard.)
richard: Yes, Roberts, I’ll go with you. (He starts to go, but his father stops him.) [Roberts crosses to Richard.]
weaver: Just a minute, Dick. I have something to say to you. (Turning to Roberts.) Roberts, go outside and wait. If my son can go with you he’ll be out very soon.
roberts (with a menace in his voice): All right, Doc Weaver, but let me tell ye somethin’. If anything happens to my leetle gal because ye won’t go with me I’ll git ye if I have to hunt ye the rest of my life. [Comes close to Weaver.]
weaver: That talk doesn’t do you any good, Roberts. Now, go on out.
roberts (doggedly): I ain’t goin’ to be throwed over like this. (He goes out but turns for a moment at the door and speaks in a trembling voice.) I ain’t never harmed ye, Doc, but so help me Gawd, if anything happens—(He goes out.)
richard (impatiently): Go on and say what you have to say, I’m going with him!
weaver: You’re coming with me, Dick. It’s your family that needs you tonight, my boy. And that’s a call we can’t resist. [Puts hand on Richard’s shoulder.] Every day, every year of your life up here, you’ll feel the tug of that call. If you despise it now you’ll regret it all the days of your life.
richard (stubbornly): You can’t make me go.
weaver: I won’t try. But you’ll come, Dick. [Richard moves to R.] Oh, yes, you will. You think you can get away, Dick, if you have the schooling. I know, for I’ve been through the same mill. But you can’t. You can’t desert us all that way.
richard (desperately [turning on him]): You’re asking me to do a hideous thing. Don’t you see, it’s a test, a test when these two things come together this way and I won’t give in. There’s a bigger struggle than you and I have any idea of going on out there somewhere tonight and I’m going to line myself up on the right side. (In a clear voice.) Do you hear me? [Crosses to door.] I’m going with Roberts. [He starts toward the door.]
laura [springing forward, stops him] (with a sharp cry): Dick! Stop!
richard: What! You? (Brokenly.) Oh, Laura, I thought you were with me. [Throws Laura off.]
laura (sobbing): Dick, Dick, you don’t know what you’re doing.
richard (to Weaver): I tell you for the last time, if you’ll let a sick child suffer, I won’t. [Crosses to Weaver.] While you’re out there doing your bloody work tonight what is going to happen to that man’s child? Have you thought of that? What of the little girl?
weaver: What of your family, Dick? What of your cousin Joe who lies dead with a Gudger bullet in him? What of your Uncle Tom, what of me? It’s your family, son. (With a note of sternness.) And one of them was killed tonight. Come, Dick [False start.], we must go.
richard: I’ll not go, I tell you. [Breaks away.] I’ll not go. Did you send me away to prepare me for this bloody game? Haven’t you seen enough murder eating through this family? Didn’t my mother die because—[Laura to chair L.]
weaver (hoarsely): Stop, Dick!
richard (controlling himself): I’m sorry, pa. I didn’t mean to say that. But I can’t go out there with you. I can’t and I won’t. Every principle, every fine thing I hold in my heart depends on what I do now. And I won’t surrender them to carry on a fight that means nothing but murder for its own sake, murder because of the quarrel of two hot-tempered old men I never knew. I won’t go! [Richard, to window, back to audience.]
weaver (with infinite sadness and tenderness): Son [Pause, puts hand on Richard’s shoulder.], we’re like that mountaineer who thought he was a bird. [Turns Richard slowly.] Our fine schemes are hitched on eagle’s wings.
richard [one step toward Weaver]: We’re not like Uncle Tom and his people. We got away from them.
weaver: It’s the same stock. They’re your people. We went away but we came back to them. (Sternly.) And one of them was killed tonight. [False start.] Come, Dick, we must be going.
richard (wildly) [draws away]: You knew this would happen! [Richard S. steps C.] Why did you send me away?
weaver: I have no regrets. You have a place to fill here when I am gone. When I am gone, Dick, when your Uncle Tom is gone—why, then—(He pauses.) [Richard back a few steps.]
richard: Then what?
weaver (in a deep strong voice): Then—Freedom! Victory! It will be your release. But not ’til then. “The old order changeth,” they say. The old order never changes. It dies. (A pause.) I can’t make you come with me. [Goes to door.] I shan’t try. But I’m going out now to get the buggy. I’ll be out front in five minutes. You can meet me there.
He goes out taking [one of the rifles from fireplace, and] his hat from Laura who stands silently in the door. Mag during all the foregoing conversation has stood awkwardly over near the fireplace. Several times she seemed about to speak but thought better of it. Now she twists her rough, toil-worn hands before her and glances quickly, furtively from Laura to Dick. Laura moves up to Richard who has turned toward the window and rests her hand lightly on his sleeve.
laura [crosses to Richard]: I’m sorry, Dick.
richard (wheeling quickly): What’s that? [Turns a little.] Oh!
laura: I’m sorry it happened so soon.
richard: It doesn’t matter when, I suppose.
laura: You mustn’t blame pa, I suppose.
richard: Blame him? (Pause.) No. I’ve learned to know him and to understand. (With an ironic laugh.) How deep we think we are! How wise and original! And then we find that all our depth is not even knee-high to the other man’s. [Two steps right.] O God! If I could have dreamed forever. If only—[Crosses to Laura C.] (Turning desperately to her.) Laura, Laura, I’m beginning to give in to it. Is there no getting away from it?
laura: Not from your family, Dick.
richard [Richard turns to window]: It’s not the family. It’s those accursed mountains.
laura [takes Dick by arms, turns him]: Pa,—Dick! Think of him. He’s an old man. You can’t let him go out there alone.
richard [pause—low tone] (after a desperate moment): No! [turns, drops hands.] I can’t. (He strides resolutely to the closet and takes out the rifle, filling his pockets carelessly with cartridges, speaking absently all the while.) I suppose it’s in good shape. (He snaps the barrel down and squints through it. In a quiet voice.) O God, they are drawing me in!
laura [confirmation in her voice]: Dick, you are going with them?
richard: I was a prophet in the wilderness too soon. The mountains aren’t ready to receive the prophets. [Laura C. back.]
laura (dry-eyed but choking): It’s too bad, Dick.
richard (jeering himself cruelly): The mountains wouldn’t come to Mahomet Weaver. Mahomet Weaver must go to the mountains. And the mountains are laughing tonight, Laura. They’ve just played one of their little jokes. And they think it’s very funny. (He goes to the window and calls out loudly.) You think it’s very funny, don’t you?
laura (in terror): Dick, Dick! [To Dick at window.]
richard [in the same loud voice]: Bald Pate! Bald Pate! By God, he’s grinning at me! (Mockingly.) It’s all right, Bald Pate. Go ahead and laugh. It’s now the proper time to laugh.
(His father’s voice outside: “I’m waiting on you, Dick.”)
mag (speaking for the first time): Hit’s too bad, Dick, but I reckon ye’d better go. I ain’t never seen no way out of hit.
laura: Go quick. They’re waiting on you.
richard: That’s where they get you. They can wait the longest. (He goes quickly to the door.)
laura: You are going with them.
richard (with a rasping laugh): There’s nothing else to do. I’ve learned early. You always go with them when they want you. (He goes out.)
laura: When they want you? (With sudden understanding turns [to window].) The Mountains—(sobbing.) Mag, Mag, why is it? Why has it got to be?
mag [at fireplace] (dully): Land, child, don’t ask me why hit is. I don’t know. (In hard, cracked, sullen tones.) I don’t know nothin’. I reckon Tom don’t think me fit fer nothin’ except to do the chores an’ raise a family. Now I’m an ole worn-out woman an’ he’ll go out thar an’ like as not git killed. But does he think of me? Land, child, don’t ask me why things is like they air. I reckon thar ain’t no way o’ findin’ out.
CURTAIN
[¬]
thomas wolfe
MANNERHOUSE
A Play in a Prologue and Four Acts
Louisiana State University Press, Louis D. Rubin, Jr. and John L. Idol, Jr., eds., 1985
[The text follows the first edition.]
PROLOGUE
Scene: Upon a hillside in the South a hundred years ago.
A primitive landscape is in the process of conversion. Here, on top, where the hill is round, and before it slopes away to the east, a clearing has been made in the dense undergrowth of young pine, oak, chestnut, and laurel. It is clearly summer, but in that warm lush wooded place, the brown and fragrant needles of the pines yet carpet the earth.
In the foreground are the stumps of trees white and bleeding fresh. In the background, black-barred against a red and smoky sun which is sloping swiftly into the west, is a forest of great pines.
Beside the pines, upon the very brink of the hill, before it drops, a house is rearing its white and comely sides. From within comes the sound of hammering, and the shearing of boards, and a low steady sustained and savage chant sung by deep barbaric voices.
To the left, a wide path has been cut straight down the flank of the hill through the dense growth: in that green place it bleeds like a wound.
From below there are cries and confused noises, and the sound of men crashing through the thickets.
