Plays
hope they buried him--I hope they didn't just--(_tormented_)
MADELINE: Oh, father--of course not. I know they did.
IRA: How do you know? What do you care--once they got him? _He_ talked
about the world--better world--end war. Now he's in his grave--I hope he
is--and look at the front page of the paper! No such thing--war to end
war!
MADELINE: But he thought there was, father. Fred believed that--so what
else could he do?
IRA: He could 'a' minded his own business.
MADELINE: No--oh, no. It was fine of him to give his life to what he
believed should be.
IRA: The light in his eyes as he talked of it, now--eyes gone--and the
world he died for all hate and war. Waste. Waste. Nothin' but waste--the
life of this house. Why, folks to-day'd laugh to hear my father talk. He
gave his best land for ideas to live. Thought was going to make us a
better people. What was his word? (_waits_) Aspiration. (_says it as if
it is a far-off thing_) Well, look at your friend, young Jordan. Kicked
from the college to prison for ideas of a better world. (_laughs_) His
'aspiration' puts him in a hole on bread and water! So--mind your own
business, that's all that's so in this country. (_constantly tormented
anew_) Oh, I told your brother all that--the night I tried to keep him.
Told him about his mother--to show what come of running to other folks.
And he said--standing right there--(_pointing_) eyes all bright, he
said, 'Golly, I think that's great!' And then _he_--walked out of this
house. (_fear takes him_) Madeline! (_she stoops over him, her arm
around him_) Don't you leave me--all alone in this house--where so many
was once. What's Hindus--alongside your own father--and him needing you?
It won't be long. After a little I'll be dead--or crazy--or something.
But not here alone where so many was once.
MADELINE: Oh--father. I don't know what to do.
IRA: Nothing stays at home. Not even the corn stays at home. If only the
wind wouldn't blow! Why can't I have my field to myself? Why can't I
keep what's mine? All these years I've worked to make it better. I
wanted it to be--the most that it could be. My father used to talk about
the Indians--how our land was their land, and how we must be more than
them. He had his own ideas of bein' more--well, what's that come to? The
Indians lived happier than we--wars, strikes, prisons. But I've made the
corn more! This land that was once Indian maize now grows corn--I'd like
to have the Indians see my corn! I'd like to see them side by
side!--their Indian maize, my corn. And how'd I get it? Ah, by
thinkin'--always tryin', changin', carin'. Plant this corn by that corn,
and the pollen blows from corn to corn--the golden dust it blows, in the
sunshine and of nights--blows from corn to corn like a--(_the word
hurts_) gift. No, you don't understand it, but (_proudly_) corn don't
stay what it is! You can make it anything--according to what you do,
'cording to the corn it's alongside. (_changing_) But that's it. I want
it to stay in my field. It goes away. The prevailin' wind takes it on to
the Johnsons--them Swedes that took my Madeline! I hear it! Oh, nights
when I can't help myself--and in the sunshine I can see it--pollen--soft
golden dust to make new life--goin' on to _them_,--and them too ignorant
to know what's makin' their corn better! I want my field to myself.
What'd I work all my life for? Work that's had to take the place o' what
I lost--is that to go to Emil Johnson? No! The wind shall stand still!
I'll make it. I'll find a way. Let me alone and I--I'll think it out.
Let me alone, I say.
(_A mind burned to one idea, with greedy haste he shuts himself in the
room at left_. MADELINE _has been standing there as if mist is parting
and letting her see. And as the vision grows power grows in her. She is
thus flooded with richer life when her_ AUNT _and Professor_ HOLDEN
_come back. Feeling something new, for a moment they do not speak_.)
AUNT ISABEL: Ready, dear? It's time for us to go now.
MADELINE: (_with the quiet of plentitude_) I'm going in with Emil
Johnson.
AUNT ISABEL: Why--Madeline. (_falteringly_) We thought you'd go with us.
MADELINE: No. I have to be--the most I can be. I want the wind to have
something to carry.
AUNT ISABEL: (_after a look at Professor_ HOLDEN, _who is looking
intensely at_ MADELINE) I don't understand.
MADELINE: The world is all a--moving field. (_her hands move, voice too
is of a moving field_) Nothing is to itself. If America thinks
so--America is like father. I don't feel alone any more. The wind has
come through--wind rich from lives now gone. Grandfather Fejevary, gift
from a field far off. Silas Morton. No, not alone any more. And afraid?
I'm not even afraid of being absurd!
AUNT ISABEL: But Madeline--you're leaving your father?
MADELINE: (_after thinking it out_) I'm not leaving--what's greater in
him than he knows.
AUNT ISABEL: You're leaving Morton College?
MADELINE: That runt on a high hill? Yes, I'm leaving grandfather's
college--then maybe I can one day lie under the same sod with him, and
not be ashamed. Though I must tell you (_a little laugh_) under the sod
is my idea of no place to be. I want to be a long time--where the wind
blows.
AUNT ISABEL: (_who is trying not to cry_) I'm afraid it won't blow in
prison, dear.
MADELINE: I don't know. Might be the only place it would blow. (EMIL
_passes the window, hesitates at the door_) I'll be ready in just a
moment, Emil.
(_He waits outside_.)
AUNT ISABEL: Madeline, I didn't tell you--I hoped it wouldn't be
necessary, but your uncle said--if you refused to do it his way, he
could do absolutely nothing for you, not even--bail.
MADELINE: Of course not. I wouldn't expect him to.
AUNT ISABEL: He feels so deeply about these things--America--loyalty, he
said if you didn't come with us it would be final, Madeline.
Even--(_breaks_) between you and me.
MADELINE: I'm sorry, auntie. You know how I love you. (_and her voice
tells it_) But father has been telling me about the corn. It gives
itself away all the time--the best corn a gift to other corn. What you
are--that doesn't stay with you. Then--(_not with assurance, but feeling
her way_) be the most you can be, so life will be more because you were.
(_freed by the truth she has found_) Oh--do that! Why do we three go
apart? Professor Holden, his beautiful trained mind; Aunt Isabel--her
beautiful love, love that could save the world if only you'd--throw it
to the winds. (_moving nearer_ HOLDEN, _hands out to him_) Why
do--(_seeing it is not to be, she turns away. Low, with sorrow for that
great beauty lost_) Oh, have we brought mind, have we brought heart, up
to this place--only to turn them against mind and heart?
HOLDEN: (_unable to bear more_) I think we--must go. (_going to_
MADELINE, _holding out his hand and speaking from his sterile life to
her fullness of life_) Good-bye, Madeline. Good luck.
MADELINE: Good-bye, Professor Holden. (_hesitates_) Luck to you.
(_Shaking his head, stooped, he hurries out_.)
MADELINE: (_after a moment when neither can speak_) Good-bye--auntie
dearest. Thank you--for the birthday present--the cake--everything.
Everything--all the years.
(_There is something_ AUNT ISABEL _would say, but she can only hold
tight to_ MADELINE_'s hands. At last, with a smile that speaks for love,
a little nod, she goes_. EMIL _comes in_.)
EMIL: You better go with them, Madeline. It'd make it better for you.
MADELINE: Oh no, it wouldn't. I'll be with you in an instant, Emil. I
want to--say good-bye to my father.
(_But she waits before that door, a door hard to go through. Alone_,
EMIL _looks around the room. Sees the bag of corn, takes a couple of
ears and is looking at them as_ MADELINE _returns. She remains by the
door, shaken with sobs, turns, as if pulled back to the pain she has
left_.)
EMIL: Gee. This is great corn.
MADELINE: (_turning now to him_) It is, isn't it, Emil?
EMIL: None like it.
MADELINE: And you say--your corn is getting better?
EMIL: Oh, yes--I raise better corn every year now.
MADELINE: (_low_) That's nice. I'll be right out, Emil.
(_He puts the corn back, goes out. From the closet_ MADELINE _takes her
hat and wrap. Putting them on, she sees the tennis racket on the table.
She goes to it, takes it up, holds it a moment, then takes it to the
closet, puts it carefully away, closes the door behind it. A moment she
stands there in the room, as if listening to something. Then she leaves
that house_.)
CURTAIN