Mary Hartwell Catherwood papers, 1865-1945 (box 2)

Front matter

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Act I

(Scene: Interior of country newspaper office. Two desks; overflowing waste-basket; a number of cheap chairs; a small shelf of books; on conspicuous perch at back of room a stuffed blue crane. Placard on wall, "Off ice of the Blue Crane. A high-class weekly. Terms, $1.50 per year. Job printing neatly done."

Noise of hand-press heard in next room. Sam Peevy at one desk opening letters. Printer* s boy stands waiting for copy, re¬ ceives a handful, and goes into next room.

Enter hurriedly Seth Adams, slamming street door and leaning for an instant with his back against it.)

Sam. (Still tearing envelopes open.) Here*s success to the Blue Crane, my boy. Seven new subscribers in the last mail! --What *s the matter with you? Have you seen a ghost?

Seth. (Listening covertly for outer sounds.) I think I have.

The ghost walks today.

Sam* --The ghost has walked pretty regularly in this office lately. Seven new subscribers! — and tonight we begin to board. —

To board, man! — instead of sleeping here on the office chairs and eating crackers and cheese we shall sleep in beds and eat like Christians !

Seth. — It will be a pleasure to see you eat like a Christian,

Sam.

Sam.-~But I’m not ashamed of the crackers and cheese. I’m going to put them in my political speeches when I run for congress.

Setli.--Thyy *11 be very filling in your speeches.

Sam. — Did you pick up any items?

Seth.-(-Approcahing his own desk and taking out note-book.)

The Thompson boy has been kicked out of the drug-store and gone back to sponge on his grandmother. I have it that our young friend William Thompson has severed his connection with Smith’s enter¬ prising pharmacy ,and will visit with his relatives awhile to recuperate his health.

Sam. --That’s in great shape. We can’t antagonize anybody, you know, except a political opponent. What else?

Seth. — Our postal card correspondent from Prairiw Dog Hollow missed the mail and sent these notes by the hand of a neighbor:*— -°Bob Gass is finishing his new house. That’s right. Bob. Fix the

cage and catch the bird!" "We regret to learn that Eli Harness's

children is down with the whooping-cough. But health in this dis¬ trict is otherwise good, except Milton Singly* s wife who is also bedfast." — I wish I had been born a postal card correspondent in a country neighborhood. (Sits down at his desk.)

Sam. --^Leaving his desk to put hand on Seth's shoulder. ) Seth, will you never tell me what ails you? You're not the man you were at college. Six years of Europe have done for you.

Seth. — If a fellow could always be coming home from Europe he might accomplish something by the mere rise of his spirits. Gorgeous autumn colors of my native country, high zenith shining as no other sky shines, clean gladness of a landscape unsoaked by media&jral filth — my God! how ray soul shouted hallelujah while I whirled through it in a dining-car, paying five prices for a vile breakfast and rancid butter!

Sam. — Don't remind your poor partner of your former prodigal¬ ity.

Seth. — It's really a compensation to me for the loss of my money, to see how defrauded my poor partner feels.

Sam, — Why, you had a hundred thousand dollars,

Seth. — And you'll come back at me a hundred thousand times to make me account for every dollar of it.

Sam. --You ought to account to somebody.

Seth. — That's been one of my fatal troubles, Sam: there was no one for me to account to; no father, mother, brother or sister.

Sampl'd be a whole family to you, and show you where to put the money if we had it .We are not here in the west, hanging by our eyelids on this little paper, for our health. We must do something. We ought to have a land-office here in the Blue Crane sanctum. Do you know how men get rich in western towns? They buy land: they subdivide lots.

Seth. — But my lot was subdivided before I came here.

Sam. — I can't understand it! You had no vices. Now poor Keened? profligacy was absolute drunkenness. Keene was the original Blue Crane.All sorts of a man he was: had been a mine owner, an actor, a special correspondent. He started this paper when the town sur¬ veyor drove the first stakes. In six months the paper was in the sheriff's hands and Keene was in the ditch.

Seth. — He's the man you opened your new graveyard with?

Sam. — Yes, that was Keene.

Seth.—Laid him like a corner-stone,

Sam. --Exactly. And a poor corner-stone h*k is for his child's fortunes. He left a half-grown daughter without a cent in the world or a shelter over her, except what her own labor gives her. Before a man accumulates a family he ought to sit down with pencil amd paper and figure out how many mouths he can accommodate with regular meals every day. Regular meals! (Takes his hat from a hook) Seth, this is an auspicious moment.We ourselves are about to return to regular meals.We are now going out to board! I feel that I am capable of boarding indefinitely. (Opens door into press-room.

Noise of press ceases. ) Thomas, we are going out to supper and shall not re turn .We are going o^i to supper. When you leave, please lock the press-room door and turn the boy out* (Closed door. )That 'll impress him more than paying him a month's wages.

Seth.-- And be cheaper for us.

Sam. --Well ! After three weeks of scant lunching are you wait¬ ing for the butler to announce dinner?0r am I to go forth alone and eat for the firm?

Seth. Perhaps we better begin that way and let the hostess gradually into the situation.

Sam.— I warn you, my boy, that you are trifling with what are at present my tenderest sensibilities.

Seth. — Don’t wait for me, Sam. I have some work to finish. Sam* — My boy, ordinarily I’d die for you — but, no, I won’t

wait.

Exit. )

(Seth sits writing, and gradually the room grows darker.

He throws down his pen and walks the floor Sat first in excitement, which subsides; and his arms form themselves to the carried shape of a child. He begins to whistle softly, then to croon, then to sing: — )

The girlie had two chairs turned down To make a house in a comer.

She tied her bonnet on her head,

And much it did adorn her.

MI lock my doo*,

Lick-lock!

Lick - lock! "

The girlie has two stones set up To make a house in a corner —

A corner of the churchyard space.

Where sky and grass adorn her.

She has locked her door;

We dare not knock!

V\ Lick-lock!

Lick-lock!*

(Timid knock at the door. He pauses with his back toward

aX

it, dropping arms sides and looking over shoulder .Door opens. Enter Kate Keene.)

Kate. — Goodevening. Is Mr. Adams here?

Seth* — Goodevening* Mr* Adams is here*

Kate* — I was sent to tell him that his supper will be spoiled* (As he turns toward her she moves to the wall and leans there hiding her face*)

Seth. — A spoiled suipper is really good cause for tears in the Blue Crane office.

Kate.You look like my father — 0! you look like my father!

Seth* — (Aside*) Now I wonder what distinguished citizen I am the counterpart of?

Kate* — He has been dead only a few months* I am not used to it yet, and the crane and you reminded me of him#

Seth. The crane and I reminded her of him.

Kate* — He was the best man in the world* Other people have bad faults, but he had only one little weakness*

That must have been the weakness they opened the new cemetery with; and this must be the daughter of the original Blue Crane*

Kate* I try not to make any fuss* But you can*t always wait until you go to bed ,to cry* (Turning, and drying her eyes.) I miss him so !

Seth. — He was then a good father?

Kate (with enthusiasm.) He was beautiful!

Seth* — (Aside*) The man I resemble was beautiful!

Kate* And brilliant*

Seth* — Brilliant, certainly*So perfect a father will by con¬ trast prove a serious drawback to your husband when you come to have one*

Kate* — I am never going to have a husband* My father told me not to marry.

Seth*--He was a man of sense as well as a beauty*I begin to find the resemblance very flattering.You are certain I am like your father?

Kate* — Even your voice and your eyes when you make a joke to keep the tears back*

Seth* — Well, then, I wish you would sometimes call me — fathes

Not openly, I mean, but --sometimes* I had . a child of my own,

•...and she died* She was just old enough to say* . .father* I car¬ ried her when she was ill*. .and her little arms clung round my neck* *.. And now I think and think about the little neglected for¬ eign grave*.. All around it are graves heaped with beaded flowers.

I put some violets over her... and came away. .. .alone*

Kate. — ^ (tenderly ) But where is the child’3 mother?

Seth* — That is what I used to ask myself — Where is the child’s mother? And the only answer I could ever give was — Damn the child’s mother! She left her little sick child with me, and she left me because she had impoverished me*

The Dead Sweetheart

I lie across her grave all night:

I walk beside her ghost all day;

Too numb to weep, too dazed to pray.

— Hew can I have her from my sight?

All life upon the world is done:

A sickening sunshine soaks the land; Like painted trees the forests stand; — Their soul went with my precious one!

And I must live, and do my part! —

Per years, and years, and years, and years - Without her kisses-fwith my tears! —

God smite me dead this broken heart!

FOR TIPPECANOE

I

The Golden Rose

"Glory and success are absolute certainties in the future!--I can see them coming! Can’t you, Camilla?

"My sight isn't as long as yours," responded Camilla. "But I can see them shying at New Harmony! That uniform would scare any¬ thing. 0 Frances, don't wear it ! ?

Frances looked down at white trousers which encased her from waist line to the fastening below the knee. A tunic or upper gar¬ ment, of the same heavy linen as the trousers, fitted every curve of her trim shape, and flared from her neck set like an ivory column.

It had Greek drapery which fell nearly as low as her ankle on one side, but on the other side was looped against the thigh. Her stockings also were white, and her feet carefully shod with leather instead of the satin slippers of that period.

She stood tall as a goddess, full chested, broad shouldered. She had one of the most beautiful heads that Nature ever fashioned, the short chestnut hair clustering and curling around it, a calyx for her face. Her straight nose, her oval cheeks and perfect mouth and full blue eyes, were mobile with intensity of expression which was power >wade visible. *Uf e radiated from her as from a being dowered with more than her share.

"These are my best new clothes," she said. "They give me freedom in every muscle. Try the Community uniform, Camilla; you’d like it yourself!"

"I’d rather die than be seen in it!" Camilla declared with "See how it looks on you! — and you so beautiful!"

A swinging mirror stood on the floor betwixt its pillars of mahog¬ any. Frances ** face w-£Ste, her reflection.

"I am a clean woman inside and out. That's more to the purpose than being beautiful."

"I’d rather see you put on the jacket and petticoat and skull-cap> that the Rappites made their women wear, so the men wouldn’t look at them!"

"That dress was too clumsy," pronounced Frances. "Who cares for the men! They look at us too much anyhow. We must keep them in their ^laces--as companions in organizing the new so<0-ety."

"The Duke of Saxe-Weimar is coming to the Assembly tonight."

Who’s the Duke of Saxe-Weimar? An ordinary German. He says nothing remarkable. As soon as he leaves the Tavern the Community will forget him."

"But he'll not forget how Community women dress! He'll go back to Europe and tell what he saw! It may reach General La Payette’s ears that Prances Wright— the girl he received in his family like a daugh¬ ter — has gone so wild over American experiments that she" _

"No longer dresses like a female! General La Payette will laugh.

He knows I always objected to £bing called a young female! --Do you know how men really feel about women, Camilla? They pretend devo¬ tion: but in their hearts they despise us! I am as well made, as free — I have a mind as well equipped — as any man! I have no» supersti¬ tions, no fears. A man is no more to me than a woman. I will never trick myself out for him to stare at!"

"The man who wouldn't stare at you now, would be blind!"

"Why? "

"Can't you see how you look?"

"The costume may appear a little singular at first , "admitted Pran¬ ces.

Camilla laughed. She then began to coax.

"Please wear the taffeta that Madame La Payette used to admire, Beautiful ! "

"I've grown since those days."

"Or the gauze with embroidered bands, Dorable!"

"The gauze with embroidered bands is too fine for a republican gathering, to say nothing of a laboring Community!"

"Then put on anything decent! — Take this off for my sake!"

"Let's carry the war into Africa," proposed Prances, a whimsical change going over her face. "Take off something for my sake, Tippecanoe. Take off your prejudices."

"Will you put them on if I do?"

Prances shook her head, smiling at Camilla’s persistence.

"I can't break my word, and prevent poorer women in the Community from having an equal chance with myself. We should all dress alike."

"What other women in the Community can afford the fine web you V\ave spoiled?"

A^JujJUL,

"I couldn’t wear stuff that scratched," said Prances. "It would do A

the cause no good to chafe my skin!"

"How many are going to wear the uniform?"

"All who are not afraid of men!"

"You mean all who are willing to make the men afraid of them!"

"There is only one tribute that I exact from men, Camilla: that is their respect. They shall respect me!"

"Do you think they can — in that?"

Visibly wincing, Prances laughed again, and lifted Camilla from the floor.

"Put me down, man," said Camilla. "You make me blush!"

Frances shook her. She was very small and undeveloped, as if her progress toward womanhood had been arrested at the beginning of her teens. Her mouth was so wide, and her eyes such caverns of darkness, that the shadow of the death’s head seemed always showing through Camilla Wright's count enance. Though neither emaciated nor repulsive, her body expressed piteous weakness.

She wore a short-waisted gown of mouse-colored silk, cut to show her doll like neck and arms, and the neat points of her slippered

^eet. Her trait£ were decided and individual. She clung with both arms, \nd fitted her head to the curve of Frances* neck.

"Do you like me, Frances?"

Frances kissed her as a mother devours the one little child in the

world. „ *

"1*11 never be a Communist hate philanthropy! I like old thought

a great deal better than new thought! And though I wouldn»t own it to anybody In Hew Harmony, It makes me flaw® to see you In breeches.

What makes you love a little bug of a twin like me? I'll always have to crawl the ground; and you were made to soar like t» a lark; you're generally in the clouds. I'm Jealous of the strangers that take you from me! "

"Strangers don*t take me from you, Tippecanoe."

"Yes, they do! Great hulking men and women crowd between us."

ome day," said Frances," a great hulking man will carry you

off."

Camilla shook her head.

"I was Just made of what was left from you. Prances. You are al¬ most two women, and I'm nothing but a scrap. Your twin is your pocket

—

piece: you*ll have to keep her.«»»i

"I couldn*t do without *■*«•," said Frances.

"I might," admitted Camilla," love someone else more, bodily; but I never could love anyone more, spiritually!"

Frances smiled as she let her twin escape lightly, and smoothed

Camilla's silk skirt.

"Some unseen ligament surely unites us, Tippecanoe! If I am trying to help rid the world of abuses, it is to make it a better place for you to live in."

"The world’s good enough. Prances, as long as you are in it."

"Let me help improve this corner of it while I am passing through, Sfc. There's the Assembly bell ringing, Tippecanoe. Madame and Jane and Lucy and Virginia have already gone over. We must hurry."

"They are not wearing the uniform," said Camilla. "It is easy for them to show themselves!"

The house which the two girls left, stood like a low Greek tem¬ ple, massive and broad, showing many pillars. It was known as the Man¬ sion, and Number Five in the Community.

Basking under a full moon, the village stretched level as a garden arched with trees. The season was well advanced in that angle made by the Ohio and Wabash rivers. Southward, beyond groves and fields, the horizon was guarded by a semicircle of hills rising to one tall head¬ land. Betwixt the village and the Wabash river slept many Rappite dead in a walled inclosure, spring's blanket stretched evenly over all, no fold of a grave wrinkling any of its surface. These German pioneers and their transplanted survivors had built the town; in solid handiwork of round based brick and stone houses, each secluded from the street, having its entrance at the side. Their fortress , for storing grain, or for retreat in time of danger, spread a huge oblong of shadow west¬ ward in the moonlight .Loopholes were slit in its stone sides, and look¬ outs pierced its upper story of brick. Donjon doors kept its entrance, and the tiled roof was bullet proof.

Prances stopped, drawing in her breath with delight. She lifted one white sleeved arm high above her head, in jubilant salutation to the future. The place satisfied her. No other town on the continent had such quaint individual traits. The Spanish who built in Florida, and the French who built in Quebec, built for themselves. But this town was built by a Community for communal life. She who so loved in¬ dividual freedom, saw the millennium coming through united individual effort !

The Rappites’ chief work, set in the heart of their village, was the church, which the new Community used as an Assembly Hall. It rose in the middle of an open square, and was shaped like a Greek cross. Or¬ chards, and black locusts of which the Rappites had been very fond, mass¬ ed shadows eastward and westward, but only a few great elms outlined the square.

Thffe huge cruciform structure blazed through all its windows like a lighted cathedral. There were four entrances, each a hundred and twen¬ ty feet from the opposite one. The principal door, fan-topped and dou¬ ble- leaved, faced north. The stone pillats of this beautiful door no¬ bly upheld a triangular tablet, on which was carved a golden rose set in a golden wreath, parting the figures of the year 1822. Moonlight showed it against the white stone as sparkles are struck on water; and "Micah IV J, 8;" which faithful Rappites had known by heart as they went in and out :-- "Unto thee shall come the golden rose, the first dominion."

This door, simple as a statue, imposing as if done by the hand of Nature, the Rappite leader had dreamed for his sanctuary.

Within, the Greek cross was outlined upon the floor in stone, sur¬ rounded by a parquetry of native woods. Between its arms were the signs of the zodiac. Twenty-eight huge pillars, .having pedestals six feet high, supported the dome. Triple arches separated the wings of the building from the center, each middle arch standing on pillars of wal¬ nut or cherry, the smaller ones on columns in the wall. Halfway between the arches were mighty shafts of sassafras, stretching twenty-one feet to the ceiling. In that part of the Indiana commonwealth the sassafras treegrew large enough to furnish the hunter with his favorite dugout.

The New Harmony orchestra — a violin, a violoncello, a clarionet,

and two flutes, played within an iron railing where a crown of wax lights seemed to hang under the dome. The great space below plenteously balzed; for candle-making was one of the Community industries. Other and rose¬ ate light glowed from logs in four fireplaces, at the corners of the central square. Though all the doors stood open and fe&e May air flowed through, the vast hollow of masonry needed these hearts of warmth.

A Commune in the wilderness was a strange sight to the European who sat on the speaker* s platform in the south wing . He was between two

other men;one plainly dressed, with a face of pure benevolence, the

other, blond , assum&vg the air of proprietor.

Is* A

The world* s capitol never presented stranger contrasts tha\n this crowd swarming in the Communal hive.

"Of course the scheme attracted many singular cattle," said the blond man to the European, "Nearly a thousand people rushed here as soon as it was known, and the undesirable ones can’t be weeded out at once."

The Duke of Saxe-Weimar, who preferred to be called Baron Brownburg In America, listened to the blond man but spoke to the plain gentleman on the other side of him.

"Why do you yourself leave the Community at its beginning, Herr Owen? "

"Because it must work out its own problems, Baron."

"But a guiding hand at this tOne may be very necessary."

"I have thought it all over, and decided to go back to England for a year. The new ideas shall be tested independently."

"You are a very generous and conf idin^Cft^leave so large an

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estate at the mercy of people you do not know."

"My sons will remain here."

•I

"And Mr. Owen leaves affairs in the hands of an efficient committee, said the blond man.

"What is this?" inquired the Duke of Saxe-Weimar, indicating a figure sprawling on the platform indifferent to his presence. The fig¬ ure was arrayed in a long sack coat of yellow nankeen , stained like a palette with aimny colors, A waistcoat also of nankeen, fastened as high as his chin, bulged in all its pockets with roots and herbs. His tight pantaloons were buttoned around his ankles. He was a lank cadav¬ erous man, whose oily black hair, stringing upon his shoulders, gave him a ghastly look , in spite of a full and noble forehead and stead¬ fast eyes.

"Is the Baron speaking of Rafinesque, Mr. Taylor?" said Robert

Owen.

"Yes," the blond man answered briskly . ", That * s Rafinesque, Constantine Rafinesque, born in Turkey, of a German mother and French father. A most remarkable naturalist, Baron."

"Remarkable, certainly, " admitted the Duke of Saxe-Weimar . " Am I mistaken in supposing that you manufacture soap in this Community,

Herr Owen?"

"The only products we amek make in excess of what we can use," answered Robert Owen , with his slow humorous smile, "are soap and glue. Rafinesque would never think of drawing soap; and glue itself couldn't stick him to us. He's here today, and off tomorrow. His home is any field or wood where he can find specimens. I'm afraid he will never be valued at his true worth. We have other men here who are making histo¬ ry in their service to science. There's Thomas Say — that muscular , tall, dark man — perhaps the most conspicuous in the Assembly — a fine conchologist. And Charles Le Seuer, the one with flaring nostrils, and a bit of whisker in front of his ears, who is talking with the slim large¬ eyed girl; --he is both artist and naturalist. The French government has pensioned him and sent him to America to push his studies."

"Why do these learned amm* wear their breeches buttoned over round¬ abouts, like little boys?"

"We are experimenting in Community uniforms," Robert Owen confessed.

"I see. The principal members of the colony exploit them first."

The Duke ran his eyes over the mobile crowd. All the children had drawn to the center, where they danced in a ring to the music of the orchestra. Other feet on the floor marked time. Young men and girls swung' by pairs into a great circle. The rhythmic changes of a Spanish dance progressed like the order of Nature. Their faces were rosy with passion¬ ate delight in dancing, as well as with the joy of new conditions, and

II expectation of a common good. Toning with the flutes, these young people talked exhuberantly,as one vast family, calling to one another by the baptismal name.

"How the Owen brothers pair off! — William and Robert Dale : --Richard and little Dale."

"And wherever the Neef girls are, there you will see Richard Owen and little Dale!"

"Sammy Dransfield was put over all the vineyards workers today."

"Lucy Sistare, I have some news for you."

"What is it, Jane?"

"Rob Faunt Le Roy says Mr. Say blistered his hands in the field!

The Blessed Sistare will have a patient!"

"I have more startling news for you. Virginia du Palais was kick¬ ed over by a cow! "

Virginia du Palais appealed to the young man at her side.

"Why should I be called from the piano to milk cows? Baron Brownburg asked me to play for him, and I had just begun. Matfuwe fcrcrfcTJi&ia

"Madame Pretazia should not put you to such Community work," he responded.

"I will not be downtrodden by a proud cow!"

"After this I'll milk for you," determined the boy.

"Billy Twigg is going to milk for Virginia du Palais!"

"No, he isn't!" spoke up a young man who led Camilla Wright by the finger tips to salute the opposite couple. "Even the birds that sing can't shirk in this Community."

"Camilla is'nt sent out to milk cows, Robert Dale Owen," Virginia protested.

"Do you ever see Prances hold back her hand from any Community work?"

"None of us can hope to be like Prances," spoke Lucy Sistare, who never made sarcastic thrusts which could be detected. She had a gliding motion. Nothing exhuberant worked in her. She was a ground bird.

"I should think not.'" one girl whispered to another, keeping the heresy secret. Por whatever shocking things Prances Wright did, they must admire her. She took hold of modern civilization with the soul of a Greek. Her physical expression of freedom awed beholders.

She was standing tall and white like the youngest stripling in a group of men. The sage heads of the colony were drawn around her. The Duke of Saxe-Weim^r had descended from his platform to examine more closely such a personality. On one side of her char¬ acter as much a citizen of the world as he, she canvassed with him in his own language the political situation of Europe, simply, with the zest of a living mind. Geologists, arttf^" even common men who read or pretended to read at tables near the fires, all gave atten-

tion to one how to move people in the mass. She compelled her

iN

audience to a unit; with latent lovesomeness of mind and body, that prevailed rather than charmed. She was perhaps the most guileless woman who ever tried to carry the sacred atmosphere of her individ¬ uality through the world. Her enthusiasm was the joy of a spirit yet inhabiting Eden.

Women, gathered by that silver sickle of a voice, awed and scandalized, and secretly jealous of her as a spoiled, fortunate being, yet acknowledged in her their best representative.

Prances Wright was indeed outside of all common standards.

Born to wealth, brought up with her sister by an English philosopher, cherished like a daughter in the family of LaPayette, she had travel¬ ed far, and lived the life of a sage and a saviour while yet in her

teens. Her first love was the American republic, to which she TfcvU

offered, sacrifice. She bought three thousand acres of land in Tennessee, and forty slaves. This place was called Nashoba, which is aboriginal for Desolation. There the high bred girl, unused to frontier life, attempted with her sister, to work out the old dense problem of Africa. She was determined to show the United States that the blacks could earn their freedom and establish homes. No prophet

yat r A

had eeexb risen to put the glory of ambition into that race. It ended in her chartering a ship and carrying her slaves to Hayti, where she gave them liberty and homes.

One auditor who steadfastly watched Frances Wright, had been kicked around the world ten years, part of the time upon the high seas, and he considered that he had not seen her equal in any port. "Look at Savella.' " said one boy to another. "Can the black