Part 2

More than a coward would fear you, master of blood-suckers. I like you not myself. I have come to distract you a moment from your fell intention. If I were forced to do military service I should hope to eschew your company, albeit you have taken your place in history as a celebrity, some lion, take it from me. But, roar as you will, I won’t invite you to my dinner parties. Nor could you convert me to your cause, for I am always ready to see both sides of a question, to embrace both ladies at once, as it were, with equal ardor and love. Apropos of that, friend Mars, a flea in your ear!...

MARS

Talk if you must, but do not talk too long....

FLIP

(_speaking rapidly--even earnestly_)

If you raise hob now, it will not add to your popularity one whit. There is nothing but stage bombast to fight about. There is a little need of Capital for expansion, and of Labor for more bread, since he breeds fifty per cent. too fast. There is the hope of enlarging certain rooms in The World Inn to accommodate more strangers, or else of reducing the number of travellers who wish to sojourn therein. But you are not essential in the development of these designs, nor will they give you a good background for the acting of melodrama. You cannot shout “God and the right!” as you did in the days when you were popular and more or less necessary. To-day you are a bluff and we know it. So does your enemy, one Soul of Man, a personage as yet invisible to me, who may one day dissolve even my divine impudence into prudent beauty and make a hymnal out of my wit. With this thought I leave you. Look well before you leap, you heavy-weight. You may land in the trenches!

(_Exit Flip_)

MARS

He talks too much. I live for gallant deeds! You fellows here were arguing with me About my war. I will have your consent-- They would be cowards who would answer nay....

(_Reenter Flip_)

FLIP

Here is The Daily Bewilderer running headlines that will delight you, O Mars. Somebody has shot an arch-duke somewhere. Now, indeed, we shall be unable to hold you back! Now indeed we have fine cause for war!

LABOR AND CAPITAL

(_going rapidly to Mars_)

We are not cowards. We serve you, mighty Mars.

MARS

My shield, my spear! Now am I well content. Go, Science, and prepare for this great war As Capital and Labor shall agree, And send me Poetry, my ancient friend!

(_Exeunt Science, Labor, Capital, and Flip. Enter Poetry._)

MARS

Poetry, it was you, who made my fame, Who taught the people all the best of me--

POETRY

Mars, I shall sing your praises nevermore, Nor shall the people need you evermore. I sing the people, as I always have, And, as they change, the new song of new times. Who till The World Field for the harvest’s sake And feast in The World Inn at set of sun, And mate with healthy joy in one another, And gladly breed the children of the flesh And of the spirit, and who build our homes, Who cleanse and fashion, and repair your wrongs, These are my folk, and their new songs I sing, And a new era, burning bright with peace.

(_A chain breaks and frees the right arm of Soul of Man, who extends it in blessing toward Poetry._)

SOUL OF MAN

O Poetry, your word has broken bonds Forged long ago when earth was very young. Sing you for me till you and I together Shall leaven all this lump of humankind With the new yeast of kindly brotherhood. We’ll purge the old earth of this festering fear And heal this cancer! Poetry, sing on!

MARS

(_scornfully, to Poetry_)

I need you not, then. I can do without you If I have Music and her seducer, Glamour. Come, Music!

(_Exit Poetry. Enter Music, in bonds to Glamour._)

GLAMOUR

I brought her in. She would have stayed behind To sing with Poetry for all mankind. But, once deceived, she can go free no more Save in the triumph of the Soul of Man, Who is your thrall. Come, Music, my good wench, Tell Mars your service and your song are his.

MUSIC

If I must give myself against my will And where my instinct would make swift refusal, I will so give myself through Mars to men That, treading in his flashing path of pain, They shall know less of him because of me. And I shall be their glory when his guns Vomit black horror upon body and soul, And I shall be their solace in the hours When stiffening Death would have them for his own. Oh woe is me that listened unto Glamour! Yet I await your freedom, Soul of Man.

MARS

Tush, girl, a beauty like your precious self Has ever need of a more lusty lover-- And such am I, and such is Glamour here! What captive can a woman’s kisses keep? Come, take my kiss, and then, throughout the world, Sing me the ballads that do make men wild! Give me the froward chanteys of the camp, Beat me the marches unto Victory, Or, with bravado, even unto Death. Come, come; begin. The whole world waits for you!

(_Music wipes tears from her eyes and sets a bugle to her lips. Exit Music, sounding the advance, followed by Glamour. Then in close succession and increasing volume are heard the national anthems of the warring nations of Europe, in the order in which they declared war. It is dark and lights flash out in the distance. There is more or less noise and confusion at the back. Horses, artillery, men, crossing and recrossing, running, marching, working. Mars, proudly erect in the center shouts “Good!” and repeats it. A man, marching in with others, leaves his group and runs to the steps of The World Inn._)

THE MAN

Are you there, dear? I have come to say farewell!

A WOMAN

(_coming out to meet him._)

Beloved, must you go? I am alone, Alone in all the world, and of our love A child, a little human flower is coming-- Surely I need you most!

THE MAN

Tell him his father tried to do his duty And loved his country. Dear one, I must go....

(_They kiss passionately and the man rejoins his group and marches off. The woman flings herself down on the steps of The World Inn and weeps bitterly. There is more noise and confusion and then three youths come to the steps and call out._)

THREE YOUTHS

Mother.... O Mother.... Mother!

(_A woman comes forward holding wide arms for the three_)

THE WOMAN

Children, you are not going--you, my babies? It seems but yesterday my body held you-- It seems but yesterday your toys were lying, Toy cannon and bright soldiers made of tin Upon the cottage floor. O children, children, Who are just old enough at last to leave me-- Surely you will not leave your poor old mother?

ONE BOY

The bugle called us and we must be going--

THE WOMAN,

A bugle calls more strongly than a mother....

THE SECOND BOY

We will come back to you as heroes, mother....

THE WOMAN,

You were my heroes when you were my babies....

THE THIRD BOY

You would not have us cowards to be near you....

THE WOMAN,

I am Love’s coward--I never ... should ... have ... made you....

(_The lads kiss their mother and tear themselves from her arms. The anthems of the nations are repeated. The guns volley in the distance, getting louder and louder. Fires flame up and there is more or less noise and confusion. A woman runs out from The World Inn, sobbing._)

THE WOMAN,

I want my lover who was never mine. Will they not let him come to say farewell? Where are you, O Desired of all my days?

(_She runs hither and thither looking for him, wildly, and finally stumbles against Mars, shrieks, and tries to escape, but is caught and held by him. Mars roars his elation and carries her off at left screaming. There is a pause, utter quiet, absolute darkness. Then Mars returns alone and stumbles into The World Inn._)

MARS

Now I can feast me to my full content, And then, a little while, I shall have rest.

(_Exit Mars. There is another pause and silence while it gradually becomes lighter. Men and women are heard groaning, and, in the pale, eerie light, weird moth-like figures, like ghosts of the dead, flit here and there across the field. When it becomes light enough to see, all the world is changed. Flowers, fruit, produce are gone. The wagon that held the grain is now filled with corpses. On the ground are the sick and wounded, bandaged. The women waiting on them are lean, ragged, haggard. A few children are huddled together in silent terror. The scene is blackened as if by fire. On the steps of The World Inn sits The Old Mother, as in the beginning._)

A WOMAN

The dawn is nearly here, the strange grey dawn!

ANOTHER WOMAN

What bodes it now? Sunset or dawn or noon Are all alike to those who have seen hell And bear in body and soul the brand of sorrow.

THE OLD MOTHER,

’Twas even as I feared and as I spoke. So was it, children, in my younger days, The days that I can nevermore forget.

(_She rises and hobbles toward the wounded men._)

Children of mothers’ flesh this cannot last Forever. I am old and soon I die, And nothing can torment me very long, Wherefore I speak what youth might fear to say To you, as to my sons of long ago, Who died, as all your friends have died, in war.

A MAN

Speak, for we listen.

THE OLD MOTHER,

That is very well, For this is murder that ye did commit, For glamour and for vanity and lust, For selfishness in trade, and for all freedom To breed your own kind over all the earth, Each for himself and his own kind alone, Forgetting that ye all have suckled mothers, Forgetting that ye owe us fealty, And that ye owe it to yourselves to be Staunch farmers of the World Field, and good friends, One flesh, one love, one state, one family.

A MAN

Even that we might be able to achieve If one would help us to the holy way. We fight not for ourselves, good mother, no! We fight for place, for honor and for home, For what the great, who lead us, say is best, The whims of senators, the dreams of kings; And often know not why our blood is poured, A turbulent, unholy river of lust. And when the people cry for war and shout The sure destruction of another nation It is because they fear and know that fear Is far more terrible than roughest strife. Nor are we fools to give up life with joy, Save when the feud of Capital and Labor Has made our minds a Hell of sordid warfare And clothed our gayety in querulous crepe. Then, in our desperate mourning for young joy, The sweetness and variety of life, The rainbow radiance and the cloth of gold That are youth’s great inalienable right, We know no other way and follow blindly The one mad way that gives a thrill of glory, And frees our pulsing life. So are we made.... But we, who lie on beds of bloody sweat, Washed by our women’s tears, we fain would see Another era of mankind made new, Young Titans, strong enough to war on war, This hoary curse from the stringy throat of Mars To answer and to silence and to choke!

OTHER MEN

Mother, the way--the upward way from Hell!

THE OLD MOTHER,

I’ll show it, thankfully, and, if I do, I can go gaily, gladly to my grave As one who treads a quickstep of her youth. See, children, that strange figure, Soul of Man, In bonds to our arch enemy and his? He is our friend, and all our life would share If we would only take him for our own. There is no morning made by sun and sea And towering mountains, larksong, flower breath And rapture, but his coming into it Can give a finer and diviner joy. There is no darkness, damp and fraught with death, Down-bearing, stifling, but his coming makes A rift of light, an easement of the strain. Now Mars, his foe, is held in ugly sleep, Full-fed on thin, raw flesh of women’s babes, Deep drunken on the sap of many hearts-- Be not deceived, for he will wake again, Unless ye learn of this good Soul of Man How to defy this Mars, and get you peace. Children, commend you to the Soul of Man.

A MAN

How can we free you, free you, Soul of Man?

SOUL OF MAN

I tremble--for my hour of joy is near.... Ah, can it be that I shall rise at last, Gay winged and glorious with the rising sun, To hover where mankind shall bloom anew In The World Field where only stubble was? Hearken! For now, together ye must go, Not here a few and there a few, but all, And hale him forth, this monster butcher, now, While he is full and has no lust to feed, Yes, hale him forth into the light and look, And looking, know him truly as he is. If for that look he wake, defy his power, For your own sakes fight one more fight for peace.

A MAN

Alas, we are too weak for this god Mars, And some of us have known him all too well.

SOUL OF MAN

Who does my bidding has no sense of fear-- For all the stars will shine into his night And all the winds acclaim him to the end. And this was true of Socrates and Christ, Of Lincoln and of all great harvesters In The World Field. It shall be so for you On the same terms of brave obedience. Do ye my bidding and ye shall be free And I, to live and grow with you, forever.

(_The people talk together in twos and threes. Enter Capital and Labor, two lean cripples supporting one another, followed by Flip, who is wearing deep mourning._)

SOUL OF MAN

Labor and Capital, be well content To lend me but yourselves. I ask no money. I lay no tax upon you as did Mars. And I do promise you an opulent peace, Wrought out with right goodwill between you soon For I know well what others do not know, But should discover by your present plight, That you must ever win or lose together, Sharing each other’s burden and reward And I do promise sweet regeneration Your broken selves shall be made whole again When you have helped the people set me free....

(_Capital and Labor discuss the offer._)

FLIP

What will you do for me, O Soul of Man, whom I can see and perceive at last? I have lost many rich relations in this war and profited nothing--wherefore I wear mourning! But if I turn my wit to good account by making men’s anger funny, what will you do for me?

SOUL OF MAN

Your name, I’ll change, and you yourself, good Flip, You shall be my own Humor, kindly spoken, And my strong Reason leading men to Truth-- But look who comes with face of Galahad And thews of Ajax, wearing spotless white--

(_Enter Religion, a new personality, athletic and beautiful, wearing a short white garment with the symbols of the great religions wrought in gold upon the hem and carrying a shining cross. All the people turn and look and with one accord make obeisance._)

THE PEOPLE

Religion.... O Religion.... Religion!

SOUL OF MAN

Religion, have you come to serve the people?

LABOR

(_joyfully_)

Are you the old guest, radiant and serene?

CAPITAL

And will you lead against this bully, Mars?

RELIGION

Listen, for with new power I come to you Seeking to serve, claiming a mighty task. I was a sinner who had nibbled Truth And let its sweetness all dissolve away Into the rancid spittle of dead dogmas. The loss of your allegiance was the stroke That cleansed and chastened me. I have spewed out All the old wordy liquor of dead days, And all the prowess of my being now Shall foster and defend the Soul of Man.

(_The people cheer. A chain breaks, releasing the left arm of Soul of Man who reaches out both arms in benediction._)

SOUL OF MAN

Then welcome, and thrice welcome, good Religion-- Coming to serve, men will be glad to follow. O happy folk of ages yet to be New flowering from the pollen of the past, I see your budding glory everywhere. This is the spring and this the shining dawn-- The men shall be as great grave trees at rest With the new strength that grapples, grows, and gives, And the world’s women even as her men, And fruitful as the orchards of the valley, And little children dancing with delight Shall blossom fearlessly, in perfect grace, Like windblown poppies nodding in the sun. And all The World Field shall be cropped in peace And all the sheaves of life shall be brought home-- Such fruitage for High God is in your lives As I had never dreamed in life’s beginning. This is the dawn, the spring, and we are planting The harvest that the race shall gather in. Therefore to Mars, and quickly bring him hither!

(_Religion and The Old Mother lead the people up the steps and into The World Inn, the people cheering and shouting. Then there is a moment of silence, after which they come out again, carrying the dead body of Mars._)

A MAN

He is dead, old Mars, and must have died of fear!

(_The chains drop from the body of Soul of Man, and he, leaping to his feet, runs to take his place in the center, in front of the body of Mars and in a widening semi-circle of the people. His black garment falls on Mars, and Soul of Man is transfigured, a radiant figure in blue and gold and crimson, with flaming wings rising behind him and above. The people, also, are glorified by the rising of the sun behind them. They kneel._)

(_There is heard the triumphant singing of “The Hallelujah Chorus”_).

CURTAIN

_Published and for sale by_

MARGUERITE WILKINSON

CORONADO, CAL.

Price, 50 cents, postpaid

EXTRACTS FROM REVIEWS OF “IN VIVID GARDENS”

“A rich contralto voice singing out of the deepest experiences of life.”--_Poetry._

“The emotions are human, lofty and honorable; their voicing is sincere, passionate, and at times exalted.”--_Twentieth Century Magazine._

“Few of the modern poets can so easily convince the doubting ones of the necessity of their vocation as the author of this slender volume of verse.”--_Chicago Daily News._

“Aside from their poetic beauty, the verses possess a dignity, wholesomeness and outspoken valiance that carry conviction. Sincerity is their dominant note; they are the utterance of one who has heard ‘the quiet but far-reaching voice of truth.’”--_The Craftsman._

“The vigor of its thought raises it above questions of technique, and it is poetry unquestionably, inevitably, simply because it is the authentic voice of womanhood proclaiming itself in the unfaltering accents of real passion.”--Harold Monro in _The Poetry Review_ (London, 1912).

“Sincere, unconventional, forthright verse.”--_The Oakland Enquirer._

“A human document, even a social document.”--_The New York Times._

“Distinctly worthy of note.”--_Chicago Record-Herald._

“Here is a new song under the sun, a woman’s love song which neither pretends to be a man’s love song, nor confines itself to feelings which most men are accustomed to think of women as having. It is solar, not lunar; it is clear with its own light and warm with its own fire.”--_The Chicago Evening Post._

“The poems in this volume are as meat and wine to literary tastes.”--_Albany Times-Union._

“Not only do we have the woman spirit here, but a poetical spirit of no mean sort.”--_Zion’s Herald._

“It is clear, true poetry, without aping, effusiveness, or striving for effect; the refraction of momentous personal experience through a richly-dowered soul. It is also precious as an exquisite voicing of pure womanliness in its highest phase. It is worthy not only to be enjoyed, but to be studied as a clue to the soul of the coming woman.”--Edward A. Ross, Author of “Sin and Society,” “The Changing Chinese,” etc., etc.

“No clearer voice than that of Marguerite Wilkinson sings today of the coming woman and of the democracy we are working for. ‘In Vivid Gardens,’ a glimpse into the souls of women, was her first book of poems.”--_Life and Labor._

“In Vivid Gardens,” Sherman, French & Co., Publishers, Boston