Thomas Wolfe, page 539
eugene (With restrained fierceness). But eighty years is a long time, General. And a record must be broken sometime.
general. You are behaving like a drunken thug. Tonight you were observed drinking with four of the commonest enlisted men in the regiment. You command not even the respect of your own men; you are the butt of their jokes—
(For the first time eugene winces)
eugene. Yes, General, you yourself have called me a clown. And what’s a clown for if not to make men laugh!
general. I grow old, Eugene; but the pride of my breed is in me. (His voice sinks. A pause) And yet, with you—
eugene. It seems to fail.
general. It seems to fail. (A pause; then with a deep, hurt cry) Where is your pride! Your sense of honor?
eugene (Quoting). “What is honor—a word?”
general. A fine word.
eugene. And he who had it died on Wednesday. Sir, I am Falstaff without the belly.
general. And I have lost you, then?
eugene. I have grown tired of lace and tinsel.
general. You have never learned how to love them.
eugene. Perhaps I learned and have forgotten. But a road leads back if you will follow it. This is a real thing.
general (In a low voice—as clear as an old bell). Tinsel and lace are real. Men have died for less; men will die for no more—yes, and soon.
eugene. And it is for that I must die like a clown—with a plume in my hat.
general. No. You describe the death of a gentleman.
eugene (With a desperate movement). I had expected that! And is that all—to do things grandly, with a manner?
general. Sir, when I die, I hope I shall make a large gesture.
(eugene turns away swiftly, and begins to laugh terribly, controlling himself presently by clamping one hand upon his mouth)
eugene (Gasping). O God! O God! O God! A good laugh, isn’t it? (He moves toward the window and the dark)
general. Where are you going, ’Gene?
eugene (Thickly—groping with his hands). Anywhere—to the dark!
general. No; for you must talk with me tonight, my son.
eugene (Turning slowly). Not tonight with you, or ever. It is not possible.
general. You do not know me, ’Gene.
eugene. I admire your courage. I respect your character. I trust you.
general. And you do not know me.
eugene. I have lost my way—I cannot find you.
general. And you pity the old man who cannot see, who cannot understand.
eugene. I never said that, General.
general. Where blows the wind, Eugene?
(There is a pause)
eugene (In a low tone). I cannot tell you that. But this I know: the wind is up; one ship is sailing to a far strange port.
general (With infinite sadness and tenderness). And you believe in harbors at the end?
eugene. With all my heart. With all my heart.
general. Poor boy! Your harbor is around you here and now.
eugene (Quietly). You are mistaken, General. Not now; not here; not mine.
general. Yes, yours. And mine. You mad young fool; I give you proof of this our kingdom, and you ride tilting at the moon.
eugene. Our kingdom.
general. This house, this hill, those fertile fields.
eugene. And just beyond the gates—the rabble.
general. This is my house—this my kingdom. And that is all that matters. Who cares what is beyond the gates!
eugene (In a low[,] barely audible voice). Beyond the gates perhaps is—God!
general (Softly. There is a pause). Ah—h! But never, never, boy.
eugene (As before). Yes, General. Out there with all His people. (A pause) I do not record a religious conviction, General. My feeling is purely geographic.
general. No, above, not with them. God is a great gentleman.
eugene. And of our kind! How convenient it is to have God in our own back yard, with all in its proper order.
general (Steadily). Yes, ’Gene, with all in its proper order.
eugene (With a desperate movement). Come, General! Do you think your God grows cotton!
general. I know that He is with me against all my enemies.
eugene. Eternal Partisan!
general. Would you serve a king who wasn’t?
eugene. And a soldier in our war, as well?
general. Quite true.
eugene. Then let Him serve your cause. But why must I?
general. No, ’Gene, I cannot tell you that.
eugene (Desperately). Then, in God’s name, General, give me reasons of your own. Give me a sign. What is it you believe in?
(There is a pause. Bugles are sounded)
general. You shall have it—The credo of an ancient. (There is a pause; then he begins in a low clear voice) I believe in God, in Hell and Heaven; and, in my House; in a great ladder of things on which it rests. I believe in heroes and hero worship; in men and in masters; in the inequality of all things and all people. I believe in the value of men, and in the beauty and virtue of women, in gallantry, grace, and a sensitive personal honor! I believe in truth, goodness, and beauty; in the preservation of my order of things, and in a society which has for its purpose the preservation of ladies and gentlemen, whom God ever cherish, love, and protect. Amen.
eugene. That is your gospel.
general. My creed.
eugene. Founded upon the enslavement of men like us—
general (Quickly). No! No!
eugene. Of men, who but for the grace of your own God, might own the fields we make them till; might hold the reins above us.
general. That is wild and foolish talk, Eugene.
eugene. And so we must fight to keep our rights of bondage?
general. No! Do you think a war—a simple, stupid, bloody war—will ruin slavery?
eugene. If we lose—
general. We lose. But slavery is eternal; slavery of field and house may go down to slavery of mill and wheel. And that in turn may go for slavery of another baser sort—of the slavery of a mob to itself—to Rebellion, Rebellion, Rebellion.
eugene (His eyes afire). Yes, General! To Rebellion.
general. There is no virtue in it.
eugene. It is excellent and wise—always. I speak for others, General.
general. Ah, boy! Blind, blind rebel!
eugene. No, General, not I. (A pause) But you, General?
general (Surprised). I?
eugene (Panting). That braid upon your sleeve—Are you not a rebel, too?
general. No, ’Gene. I am a defender of things established.
eugene. You are a rebel, General, and I do not know you.
general. Do you think, then, you young fool, with all your dreams and your speeches, that you will abolish it? Come, Eugene, slaves are not made—they are born. Win a war, publish a proclamation, make a law! Can you legislate mind into the skull of a savage? Strength into the arm of a weakling? Heart into the breast of a coward? Can you change this?
(Bugles are blown—A pause)
eugene. General, I do not believe in change. My mother gave birth to me when I was a thousand years old. You are quite wrong about me. I have no reforms; I have no progressions; I would save nothing. I believe only in endings.
general. Why, come—this is a very passionate fidelity to death. I have misjudged you. What would you then, Eugene?
eugene. Sir, I would have an ending to all things, for I am tired of loneliness.
general. Loneliness?
eugene. Of loneliness, my ghost. For I am living in a world where all the ghosts are people; all the people ghosts. (With a great cry) You do not know me, General. I am an ancient man, and I must find my way back to my shades again. (He goes swiftly toward the window, and would pass; but he strikes his head against the edge of the lowered sill)
general. You are too tall, Eugene. Where would you go?
eugene. Where a tall man must; I shall come to my house and my home again to find the doors a little taller and the windows high.
general. I no longer believe in growth, Eugene.
eugene. General, you have lived in this house so long that you remember all the chairs when they were nothing but little stools. I am too tall for that. I remember all the stools when they were chairs. (A pause. Bugles are blown) Why then if this is so, we are united. I salute you. The ends of the earth are met.
general. No, the ends of the earth are never met, and you must greet me from afar.
eugene. Your gates are fastened on the world; the world is pressing in.
general. I must preserve my kingdom.
eugene. Your kingdom will vanish in coils of smoke. There must be endings—nothing more.
general. I must preserve my kingdom! If I can. I will not change it.
eugene. You are a very ancient man as well.
(The general inclines his head slowly and gravely)
(Bugles are blown)
general. And now the time grows short, and we must go—I on my way, and you on yours.
(A pause)
eugene (In a low voice). I—on mine?
general. Yes, ’Gene. For you shall have no other Gods above your own, and now you know where mine direct. Go where the wind may blow you, boy. Follow your fates to the uttermost part. I am an ancient man, and I shall not prevent you. But tonight when I am gone to war, I charge you, you must go up to your room and take those regimentals off, and leave this house; it is strange to you, and shelters you no longer.
eugene (Inclining his head). I have decided!
general. Then, go your ways, boy. God be with you.
eugene. The ends of the earth are met. Our ways are one.
general. What do you mean?
eugene. I go with you. I think I see you now, for the first time; and there’s a halo round your head.
general (With a deep laugh). Idolatry.
eugene. I follow the man and not the cause; and serve the man so long as he may live. For I shall go with you, my General, striking a blow for my own disbelief, even though it lead me up the streets of hell at noon.
general. Your service is accepted as it is given—honestly. (Bugles are sounded) Our time is short. Come, boy, come. (They begin to leave the room)
eugene (As they go). I heard a fish story yesterday.
general (Absently). Yes?
eugene. A man on a creek four hundred miles from sea caught a sea-bass.
general. The story is absurd.
eugene. No. Perhaps the rivers are flowing backwards.
general (Chuckling and repeating to himself). “Even though they lead me up the streets of hell at noon.” Why this is excellent, splendid! You are learning the language: the gestures should follow naturally. (They go out. There is music)
(There comes a man from the darkness, who stands and knocks hesitantly against the portal. In the dim light in which he stands, it can be seen that his dress is common and his body meager; and that his face is small, narrow, mean and pinched, half covered by a straggly unkempt moustache and unshaven beard. And as he stands there he flenses constantly with the stubby nails of one blunt hand the skin on the back of the other, and one notices that this awful hand is scorbutic and unclean)
(The negro, tod, appears with stealthy speed, and looms with open menace over the little man)
the man. Evenin’, Tod. Is Mistah Ramsay heah?
tod (In a low savage growl). You means de gennul.
the man (Affably). That’s right, Tod.
tod. He’s in, but he cain’t see yo’. They’s big goin’s-on heah tonight.
porter (Pleadingly). Jes’ fer a little spell, Tod. Tell him hit’s jes’ fer a minnit.
tod. He cain’t see yo’, I says.
porter (With sudden fierceness). Now, heah, you let me in. (He attempts to force himself into the room, but the old negro thrusts him back with one gaunt arm)
(The little man withdraws like a trap[-]cornered rat; he retreats a step and draws stealthily from one pocket a large knife, which he opens; he advances softly upon the negro. He makes a rapid lunge with the knife; his arm is checked in mid-air with the speed of a cat by the old negro, who disarms him with a single deft twist of his hand. They come to grips; the little man is pinioned like a futile toy in the mighty grip of the savage. Words pour from his contorted mouth in a filthy stream)
I have had enough of your lip. I ain’t goin’ to stand for no mo’, Nigger! Damned dirty nigger! Black bastards—I hate niggers. (The general enters the room)
general (Sharply). Tod!
porter. I told him I wa’nt goin’ to stand fer his back-talk!
general. Release Mr. Porter.
(tod releases the man)
porter. Mr. Ramsay—
tod (With a quick movement). General, I says—
porter. You damn nigger!
tod (With infinite loathing). White trash!
general. That will do, Tod.
porter. I told him, Mister Ramsay—
general (Checking him). In a moment! (To tod) Leave us, Tod.
(tod goes out)
porter. When I asked fer you, he wa’nt goin’ to let me in.
general. I shall punish him if he has been insolent. No doubt he thought he was doing his duty in keeping you out. As you know, this is our last night at home—
porter (Eagerly). Yes, sir. That’s what I come to see ye about.
general (Pointedly). We are very busy, Porter.
porter (In open entreaty). Only a minnit, Mister Ramsay—(He gulps and flenses his hand nervously)
general (Sharply). Yes, Porter.
porter. I have a boy, Mister Ramsay.
general. Yes. He is enlisted in the regiment, I believe.
porter (Eagerly). Yes, sir. That’s what I came to see ye about.
(A brief pause)
general. Well, Porter?
porter. I don’t know how I’m going to git along without that boy, Mister Ramsay—me nor the ole woman, neither. What with the flood, an’ the crops late—I need that boy bad, Mister Ramsay.
general. His cause and his country—the South—need that boy, Porter.
porter. Yes, sir. But someone’s got to work the farms, ain’t they. Sojers got to have victuals, Mr. Ramsay, an’ my boy’s not cut out fer sojerin’.
general. Did he tell you that, Porter?
(A pause)
porter (Bitterly). Him! What’s he know! They’re all damn fools at twenty!
general. May their number increase, then! I can do nothing for you, Porter. You come to me with an unworthy and dishonorable request at a time your cause requires the loyal service of every man.
porter (With rising passion). Hit ain’t my war, Mister Ramsay. Nor my boy’s neither. Why must he be sent way off som’ers to Virginny? What’s Virginny got to do with hit! Let ’em come down heah, if they want, an’ I’ll shoulder a gun with the best of ’em.
general. Your country’s battles are your battles, wherever they may be fought—here or in Virginia.
porter (Rising with a passionate movement). No, by God! Hit ain’t my war, fer all you talk. I don’t fight fer yore niggers, Mister Ramsay—damn dirty niggers who don’t think me fit to wipe their feet on.
general (Coldly). That will do! I can do nothing for you!
porter. No, but you can take my boy. Hit ain’t my war, Mister Ramsay. I don’t own no niggers. I don’t live in a house like this’n. No, by God!
general (Sharply). Tod!
(tod appears miraculously and advances on porter, who backs away in nervous fury, flensing his hands as he goes)
Show Mr. Porter out!
porter (With a mad cry, extending his blunt hands in impotent fury). Christ! Christ!
general (With cold and implacable disgust, not glancing at the man). Since you seem destitute of honor, I shall give you payment for the sacrifice which other men have made without reward. (porter stops nervously and, continuing to flense his scaly hand, stares with fixed interest at the general. The general, in an even inflexible tone:) The land you till is my land. The house in which you live belongs to my estate; the food you eat, and the air you breathe are mine as well. To you, your heirs, and your inheritors, now and forever, I give outright, without reservation that land, food, house, and air. It is yours.
porter (In a hoarse, unbelieving whisper). Give? Did ye say give?
general. Give. It is your payment, Judas.
porter (In the same hoarse whisper). Will ye put hit on paper—to do hit legal?
general (Coldly). It shall be put on paper.
porter (With a queer twisted smile, advancing a step or two). I’ll shake hands with ye on hit.
(The general stares at the terrible hand and shudders slightly)
general (Turning away suddenly). Good evening, sir.
(He goes out to the left)
(porter continues to flense his hand. tod bears down on him fiercely. The man backs out, but as he goes, he devours the room—its walls and its furnishings with malevolent and greedy eyes; and just before he disappears in darkness he raps gently, twice, against the great white column to his right)
(Bugles are sounded in the camp)
(Within the house there is a swelling movement of the music, which ends. The voices and the mirth of all the guests are heard, coming closer. tod crosses the room and goes out)
voices (Young and beautiful, joyous, near the door). The toast, General. The toast.
other voices (Older, farther off, sadder). Yes, yes. The toast, General.
a thin voice (Mockingly, from the upper air). The toast, General, the toast.
(The general comes in quickly from the left)
ralph (Entering from the right). The guests are all ready.
(The major enters with mrs. ramsay)
(A confused hum of voices)
mrs. ramsay. Ralph! My son! (She goes to him)
general (Calling). Tod!
ralph (Tenderly). My precious mother!
(tod appears with wine, in glasses, upon a tray)
(Laughter far and near within the house)
margaret (Entering alone). Where is Eugene?
(eugene appears from the darkness)
eugene. And did you call me, lady? (To major) Major, I have written you a poem.
“Oh Alas and Alack
None of the Virgins
I’ve known are black.”
general. Tod?
general. You are behaving like a drunken thug. Tonight you were observed drinking with four of the commonest enlisted men in the regiment. You command not even the respect of your own men; you are the butt of their jokes—
(For the first time eugene winces)
eugene. Yes, General, you yourself have called me a clown. And what’s a clown for if not to make men laugh!
general. I grow old, Eugene; but the pride of my breed is in me. (His voice sinks. A pause) And yet, with you—
eugene. It seems to fail.
general. It seems to fail. (A pause; then with a deep, hurt cry) Where is your pride! Your sense of honor?
eugene (Quoting). “What is honor—a word?”
general. A fine word.
eugene. And he who had it died on Wednesday. Sir, I am Falstaff without the belly.
general. And I have lost you, then?
eugene. I have grown tired of lace and tinsel.
general. You have never learned how to love them.
eugene. Perhaps I learned and have forgotten. But a road leads back if you will follow it. This is a real thing.
general (In a low voice—as clear as an old bell). Tinsel and lace are real. Men have died for less; men will die for no more—yes, and soon.
eugene. And it is for that I must die like a clown—with a plume in my hat.
general. No. You describe the death of a gentleman.
eugene (With a desperate movement). I had expected that! And is that all—to do things grandly, with a manner?
general. Sir, when I die, I hope I shall make a large gesture.
(eugene turns away swiftly, and begins to laugh terribly, controlling himself presently by clamping one hand upon his mouth)
eugene (Gasping). O God! O God! O God! A good laugh, isn’t it? (He moves toward the window and the dark)
general. Where are you going, ’Gene?
eugene (Thickly—groping with his hands). Anywhere—to the dark!
general. No; for you must talk with me tonight, my son.
eugene (Turning slowly). Not tonight with you, or ever. It is not possible.
general. You do not know me, ’Gene.
eugene. I admire your courage. I respect your character. I trust you.
general. And you do not know me.
eugene. I have lost my way—I cannot find you.
general. And you pity the old man who cannot see, who cannot understand.
eugene. I never said that, General.
general. Where blows the wind, Eugene?
(There is a pause)
eugene (In a low tone). I cannot tell you that. But this I know: the wind is up; one ship is sailing to a far strange port.
general (With infinite sadness and tenderness). And you believe in harbors at the end?
eugene. With all my heart. With all my heart.
general. Poor boy! Your harbor is around you here and now.
eugene (Quietly). You are mistaken, General. Not now; not here; not mine.
general. Yes, yours. And mine. You mad young fool; I give you proof of this our kingdom, and you ride tilting at the moon.
eugene. Our kingdom.
general. This house, this hill, those fertile fields.
eugene. And just beyond the gates—the rabble.
general. This is my house—this my kingdom. And that is all that matters. Who cares what is beyond the gates!
eugene (In a low[,] barely audible voice). Beyond the gates perhaps is—God!
general (Softly. There is a pause). Ah—h! But never, never, boy.
eugene (As before). Yes, General. Out there with all His people. (A pause) I do not record a religious conviction, General. My feeling is purely geographic.
general. No, above, not with them. God is a great gentleman.
eugene. And of our kind! How convenient it is to have God in our own back yard, with all in its proper order.
general (Steadily). Yes, ’Gene, with all in its proper order.
eugene (With a desperate movement). Come, General! Do you think your God grows cotton!
general. I know that He is with me against all my enemies.
eugene. Eternal Partisan!
general. Would you serve a king who wasn’t?
eugene. And a soldier in our war, as well?
general. Quite true.
eugene. Then let Him serve your cause. But why must I?
general. No, ’Gene, I cannot tell you that.
eugene (Desperately). Then, in God’s name, General, give me reasons of your own. Give me a sign. What is it you believe in?
(There is a pause. Bugles are sounded)
general. You shall have it—The credo of an ancient. (There is a pause; then he begins in a low clear voice) I believe in God, in Hell and Heaven; and, in my House; in a great ladder of things on which it rests. I believe in heroes and hero worship; in men and in masters; in the inequality of all things and all people. I believe in the value of men, and in the beauty and virtue of women, in gallantry, grace, and a sensitive personal honor! I believe in truth, goodness, and beauty; in the preservation of my order of things, and in a society which has for its purpose the preservation of ladies and gentlemen, whom God ever cherish, love, and protect. Amen.
eugene. That is your gospel.
general. My creed.
eugene. Founded upon the enslavement of men like us—
general (Quickly). No! No!
eugene. Of men, who but for the grace of your own God, might own the fields we make them till; might hold the reins above us.
general. That is wild and foolish talk, Eugene.
eugene. And so we must fight to keep our rights of bondage?
general. No! Do you think a war—a simple, stupid, bloody war—will ruin slavery?
eugene. If we lose—
general. We lose. But slavery is eternal; slavery of field and house may go down to slavery of mill and wheel. And that in turn may go for slavery of another baser sort—of the slavery of a mob to itself—to Rebellion, Rebellion, Rebellion.
eugene (His eyes afire). Yes, General! To Rebellion.
general. There is no virtue in it.
eugene. It is excellent and wise—always. I speak for others, General.
general. Ah, boy! Blind, blind rebel!
eugene. No, General, not I. (A pause) But you, General?
general (Surprised). I?
eugene (Panting). That braid upon your sleeve—Are you not a rebel, too?
general. No, ’Gene. I am a defender of things established.
eugene. You are a rebel, General, and I do not know you.
general. Do you think, then, you young fool, with all your dreams and your speeches, that you will abolish it? Come, Eugene, slaves are not made—they are born. Win a war, publish a proclamation, make a law! Can you legislate mind into the skull of a savage? Strength into the arm of a weakling? Heart into the breast of a coward? Can you change this?
(Bugles are blown—A pause)
eugene. General, I do not believe in change. My mother gave birth to me when I was a thousand years old. You are quite wrong about me. I have no reforms; I have no progressions; I would save nothing. I believe only in endings.
general. Why, come—this is a very passionate fidelity to death. I have misjudged you. What would you then, Eugene?
eugene. Sir, I would have an ending to all things, for I am tired of loneliness.
general. Loneliness?
eugene. Of loneliness, my ghost. For I am living in a world where all the ghosts are people; all the people ghosts. (With a great cry) You do not know me, General. I am an ancient man, and I must find my way back to my shades again. (He goes swiftly toward the window, and would pass; but he strikes his head against the edge of the lowered sill)
general. You are too tall, Eugene. Where would you go?
eugene. Where a tall man must; I shall come to my house and my home again to find the doors a little taller and the windows high.
general. I no longer believe in growth, Eugene.
eugene. General, you have lived in this house so long that you remember all the chairs when they were nothing but little stools. I am too tall for that. I remember all the stools when they were chairs. (A pause. Bugles are blown) Why then if this is so, we are united. I salute you. The ends of the earth are met.
general. No, the ends of the earth are never met, and you must greet me from afar.
eugene. Your gates are fastened on the world; the world is pressing in.
general. I must preserve my kingdom.
eugene. Your kingdom will vanish in coils of smoke. There must be endings—nothing more.
general. I must preserve my kingdom! If I can. I will not change it.
eugene. You are a very ancient man as well.
(The general inclines his head slowly and gravely)
(Bugles are blown)
general. And now the time grows short, and we must go—I on my way, and you on yours.
(A pause)
eugene (In a low voice). I—on mine?
general. Yes, ’Gene. For you shall have no other Gods above your own, and now you know where mine direct. Go where the wind may blow you, boy. Follow your fates to the uttermost part. I am an ancient man, and I shall not prevent you. But tonight when I am gone to war, I charge you, you must go up to your room and take those regimentals off, and leave this house; it is strange to you, and shelters you no longer.
eugene (Inclining his head). I have decided!
general. Then, go your ways, boy. God be with you.
eugene. The ends of the earth are met. Our ways are one.
general. What do you mean?
eugene. I go with you. I think I see you now, for the first time; and there’s a halo round your head.
general (With a deep laugh). Idolatry.
eugene. I follow the man and not the cause; and serve the man so long as he may live. For I shall go with you, my General, striking a blow for my own disbelief, even though it lead me up the streets of hell at noon.
general. Your service is accepted as it is given—honestly. (Bugles are sounded) Our time is short. Come, boy, come. (They begin to leave the room)
eugene (As they go). I heard a fish story yesterday.
general (Absently). Yes?
eugene. A man on a creek four hundred miles from sea caught a sea-bass.
general. The story is absurd.
eugene. No. Perhaps the rivers are flowing backwards.
general (Chuckling and repeating to himself). “Even though they lead me up the streets of hell at noon.” Why this is excellent, splendid! You are learning the language: the gestures should follow naturally. (They go out. There is music)
(There comes a man from the darkness, who stands and knocks hesitantly against the portal. In the dim light in which he stands, it can be seen that his dress is common and his body meager; and that his face is small, narrow, mean and pinched, half covered by a straggly unkempt moustache and unshaven beard. And as he stands there he flenses constantly with the stubby nails of one blunt hand the skin on the back of the other, and one notices that this awful hand is scorbutic and unclean)
(The negro, tod, appears with stealthy speed, and looms with open menace over the little man)
the man. Evenin’, Tod. Is Mistah Ramsay heah?
tod (In a low savage growl). You means de gennul.
the man (Affably). That’s right, Tod.
tod. He’s in, but he cain’t see yo’. They’s big goin’s-on heah tonight.
porter (Pleadingly). Jes’ fer a little spell, Tod. Tell him hit’s jes’ fer a minnit.
tod. He cain’t see yo’, I says.
porter (With sudden fierceness). Now, heah, you let me in. (He attempts to force himself into the room, but the old negro thrusts him back with one gaunt arm)
(The little man withdraws like a trap[-]cornered rat; he retreats a step and draws stealthily from one pocket a large knife, which he opens; he advances softly upon the negro. He makes a rapid lunge with the knife; his arm is checked in mid-air with the speed of a cat by the old negro, who disarms him with a single deft twist of his hand. They come to grips; the little man is pinioned like a futile toy in the mighty grip of the savage. Words pour from his contorted mouth in a filthy stream)
I have had enough of your lip. I ain’t goin’ to stand for no mo’, Nigger! Damned dirty nigger! Black bastards—I hate niggers. (The general enters the room)
general (Sharply). Tod!
porter. I told him I wa’nt goin’ to stand fer his back-talk!
general. Release Mr. Porter.
(tod releases the man)
porter. Mr. Ramsay—
tod (With a quick movement). General, I says—
porter. You damn nigger!
tod (With infinite loathing). White trash!
general. That will do, Tod.
porter. I told him, Mister Ramsay—
general (Checking him). In a moment! (To tod) Leave us, Tod.
(tod goes out)
porter. When I asked fer you, he wa’nt goin’ to let me in.
general. I shall punish him if he has been insolent. No doubt he thought he was doing his duty in keeping you out. As you know, this is our last night at home—
porter (Eagerly). Yes, sir. That’s what I come to see ye about.
general (Pointedly). We are very busy, Porter.
porter (In open entreaty). Only a minnit, Mister Ramsay—(He gulps and flenses his hand nervously)
general (Sharply). Yes, Porter.
porter. I have a boy, Mister Ramsay.
general. Yes. He is enlisted in the regiment, I believe.
porter (Eagerly). Yes, sir. That’s what I came to see ye about.
(A brief pause)
general. Well, Porter?
porter. I don’t know how I’m going to git along without that boy, Mister Ramsay—me nor the ole woman, neither. What with the flood, an’ the crops late—I need that boy bad, Mister Ramsay.
general. His cause and his country—the South—need that boy, Porter.
porter. Yes, sir. But someone’s got to work the farms, ain’t they. Sojers got to have victuals, Mr. Ramsay, an’ my boy’s not cut out fer sojerin’.
general. Did he tell you that, Porter?
(A pause)
porter (Bitterly). Him! What’s he know! They’re all damn fools at twenty!
general. May their number increase, then! I can do nothing for you, Porter. You come to me with an unworthy and dishonorable request at a time your cause requires the loyal service of every man.
porter (With rising passion). Hit ain’t my war, Mister Ramsay. Nor my boy’s neither. Why must he be sent way off som’ers to Virginny? What’s Virginny got to do with hit! Let ’em come down heah, if they want, an’ I’ll shoulder a gun with the best of ’em.
general. Your country’s battles are your battles, wherever they may be fought—here or in Virginia.
porter (Rising with a passionate movement). No, by God! Hit ain’t my war, fer all you talk. I don’t fight fer yore niggers, Mister Ramsay—damn dirty niggers who don’t think me fit to wipe their feet on.
general (Coldly). That will do! I can do nothing for you!
porter. No, but you can take my boy. Hit ain’t my war, Mister Ramsay. I don’t own no niggers. I don’t live in a house like this’n. No, by God!
general (Sharply). Tod!
(tod appears miraculously and advances on porter, who backs away in nervous fury, flensing his hands as he goes)
Show Mr. Porter out!
porter (With a mad cry, extending his blunt hands in impotent fury). Christ! Christ!
general (With cold and implacable disgust, not glancing at the man). Since you seem destitute of honor, I shall give you payment for the sacrifice which other men have made without reward. (porter stops nervously and, continuing to flense his scaly hand, stares with fixed interest at the general. The general, in an even inflexible tone:) The land you till is my land. The house in which you live belongs to my estate; the food you eat, and the air you breathe are mine as well. To you, your heirs, and your inheritors, now and forever, I give outright, without reservation that land, food, house, and air. It is yours.
porter (In a hoarse, unbelieving whisper). Give? Did ye say give?
general. Give. It is your payment, Judas.
porter (In the same hoarse whisper). Will ye put hit on paper—to do hit legal?
general (Coldly). It shall be put on paper.
porter (With a queer twisted smile, advancing a step or two). I’ll shake hands with ye on hit.
(The general stares at the terrible hand and shudders slightly)
general (Turning away suddenly). Good evening, sir.
(He goes out to the left)
(porter continues to flense his hand. tod bears down on him fiercely. The man backs out, but as he goes, he devours the room—its walls and its furnishings with malevolent and greedy eyes; and just before he disappears in darkness he raps gently, twice, against the great white column to his right)
(Bugles are sounded in the camp)
(Within the house there is a swelling movement of the music, which ends. The voices and the mirth of all the guests are heard, coming closer. tod crosses the room and goes out)
voices (Young and beautiful, joyous, near the door). The toast, General. The toast.
other voices (Older, farther off, sadder). Yes, yes. The toast, General.
a thin voice (Mockingly, from the upper air). The toast, General, the toast.
(The general comes in quickly from the left)
ralph (Entering from the right). The guests are all ready.
(The major enters with mrs. ramsay)
(A confused hum of voices)
mrs. ramsay. Ralph! My son! (She goes to him)
general (Calling). Tod!
ralph (Tenderly). My precious mother!
(tod appears with wine, in glasses, upon a tray)
(Laughter far and near within the house)
margaret (Entering alone). Where is Eugene?
(eugene appears from the darkness)
eugene. And did you call me, lady? (To major) Major, I have written you a poem.
“Oh Alas and Alack
None of the Virgins
I’ve known are black.”
general. Tod?
