Why the Chimes Rang: A Play in One Act by Elizabeth Apthorp McFadden
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Elizabeth Apthorp McFadden >> Why the Chimes Rang: A Play in One Act
Why The Chimes Rang: A Play in One Act:
by Elizabeth Apthorp McFadden:
Adapted from the story of the same name:
by Raymond McDonald Alden
Samuel French: Publisher
25 West Forty-fifth Street: New York
LONDON
Samuel French, Ltd.
26 SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND
COPYRIGHT, 1915,
BY E.A. MCFADDEN
WHY THE CHIMES RANG.
This play is fully protected by copyright.
Permission to act, read publicly or make any use of it must be obtained
of Samuel French, 25 West 45th Street, New York. It may be presented by
amateurs upon payment of the following royalties:
1. This play may be presented by amateurs upon payment of a royalty of
Five Dollars for each performance, payable to Samuel French, at 25 West
45th Street, New York, or at 811 West 7th Street, Los Angeles, Calif.,
one week before the date when the play is given.
2. Professional rates quoted on application.
3. Whenever this play is to be produced the following note must appear
on all programs, printing and advertising for the play:
This play is a dramatization of the story by Raymond MacDonald Alden
entitled "WHY THE CHIMES RANG," published by The Bobbs-Merrill Company.
This version of Raymond MacDonald Alden's story is published with
permission of the Bobbs-Merrill Company of Indianapolis, Indiana, the
publishers of Professor Alden's story and the holders of the copyright.
_WARNING_
The copying, either of separate parts or the whole of this work by any
process whatsoever, is forbidden by law and subject to the penalties
prescribed by Section 28 of the Copyright Law, in force July 1, 1909.
PREFACE.
This little play is prentice work done in Professor George P. Baker's
class, English 47 at Radcliffe College in the fall of 1908. Several
years later it was staged by Professor Baker in the "47 Workshop," his
laboratory for trying out plays written in the Harvard and Radcliffe
courses in dramatic technique.
I am glad to acknowledge here my indebtedness to the "Shop" and its
workers for this chance of seeing the play in action. Of the various
advantages which a "Workshop" performance secures to the author none is
more helpful than the mass of written criticism handed in by the
audience, and representing some two or three hundred frank and widely
varying views of the work in question. I am especially grateful for this
constructive criticism, much of which has been of real service in the
subsequent rewriting of the piece.
"Why the Chimes Rang" was again tried out the next year in seven
performances by the "Workshop" company in various Boston settlements.
Other groups of amateurs have given it in Arlington, Massachusetts, Los
Angeles, California and in Honolulu. These performances have proved that
while its setting may seem to call for the equipment of a theatre, the
play can be acceptably given in any hall or Sunday school room.
Suggestions for the simplest possible staging have been added to the
present publication in an appendix which contains data on the scenery,
music, lighting, costumes and properties for the piece.
ELIZABETH APTHORP McFADDEN.
WHY THE CHIMES RANG.
CHARACTERS.
HOLGER......................._A peasant boy_
STEEN........................_His younger brother_
BERTEL......................._Their uncle_
AN OLD WOMAN
LORDS, LADIES, _etc._--
TIME:--_Dusk of a day of long ago_.
* * * * *
SCENE:--_The interior of a wood-chopper's hut on the edge of a forest_.
Why the Chimes Rang.
The scene is laid in a peasant's hut on the edge of a forest near a
cathedral town. It is a dark low-raftered room lit only by the glowing
wood fire in the great fireplace in the wall to the right, and by a
faint moonlight that steals in through the little window high in the
left wall. This window commands a view of the cathedral and of the road
leading down into the town. The only entrance into the hut is the front
door near the window.
The furnishings are few: two substantial stools, one near the window,
the other before the fire, logs piled up near the hearth, and on the
chimney shelf above a few dishes, three little bowls, three spoons and a
great iron porridge pot. A wooden peg to the right of the chimney holds
Steen's cap and cape, one to the left an old shawl. Near the door
Holger's cap and cape hang from a third peg.
Despite its poverty the room is full of beautiful coloring as it lies
half hidden in deep shadow save where the light of the fire falls on the
brown of the wood and the warmer shades of the children's garments,
illuminates their faces and gleams on their bright hair.
When the curtain is raised Steen is sitting disconsolately on the stool
near the fire. He is a handsome sturdy little lad of nine or ten,
dressed in rough but warm garments of a dark red. Holger a slender boy
some four years older, bends over Steen patting him comfortingly on the
shoulder.
There is petulance and revolt in the expression of the younger boy but
Holger's face is full of a blended character and spirituality that makes
him beautiful. He is clad like his brother in comfortable but worn
jerkin and hose of a dark leaf green. His manner to the little boy is
full of affection, though occasionally he is superior after the manner
of big brothers. Throughout the play, two moods alternate in Holger, a
certain grave, half-mystical dreaminess and bubbling through it, the
high spirits of his natural boyish self.
HOLGER. Take heart, Steen, perhaps we can go next year.
STEEN. Next year! Next year I'll be so old I won't want to go.
HOLGER. Oh, quite old folks go to the Christmas service. Come, let's watch
the people going down to town.
STEEN. No.
HOLGER. The road'll be full, grand folk! (_He crosses to the window_)
Come watch, Steen.
STEEN. No!
HOLGER. (_Looking out_) Why the road's all empty again!
STEEN. (_In a wailing tone_) Everybody's gone!
HOLGER. (_Trying to be brave_) They're lighting the cathedral!
STEEN. I don't care!
HOLGER. Oh, Steen, come see,--like the stars coming out!
STEEN. I won't see! Mother said way last summer that we could go to-night,
and now--(_His voice breaks in a sob_)
HOLGER. She meant it! She didn't know that the grandmother would be ill,
and she and father'ud have to go to _her_. Be fair, Steen!
STEEN. They might let us go alone. "Too little!" Bah!
HOLGER. (_In a low almost frightened tone_) Steen, come here!
(_The tone, rather than the words, take_ STEEN _quickly to_ HOLGER'S
_side_.)
STEEN. What?
HOLGER. (_Pointing out the window_) Look, by the dead pine yonder,
an old woman facing us, kneeling in the snow, see? praying!
STEEN. (_In an awed tone_) She's looking at us!
HOLGER. She's raising her hand to us!
STEEN. She's beckoning!
HOLGER. No, she's making the Sign of the Cross.
(_Both boys drop their heads devoutly._)
STEEN. Who is she, Holger?
HOLGER. I don't know.
STEEN. (_Drawing back from the window and crossing the room to the
fire_) Oh, Holger, I'm afraid!
HOLGER. No, no! Look, she has turned away,--she's deeper in the
shadow,--why, she's gone! (_Following_ STEEN _with all his bright
courage bubbling high again, and speaks in a bantering tone_) Just some
old granny going down to town, and thou afraid!
STEEN. (_Recovering also_) And _thou_ afraid!
HOLGER. I was not!
STEEN. (_Derisively_) Oh-h-h-h!
HOLGER. Well, I was just a little bit afraid--lest she might frighten
thee. (_Steps are heard outside the house. Both boys start and look
frightened again_) Hush,--steps--coming here!
STEEN. (_Backing from the door_) The old woman!
HOLGER. (_Crosses the room, looks cautiously out of the window, then
cries joyously_) No,--Uncle Bertel!
BERTEL. (_Off stage_) Hullo, there,--open, Holger!
(STEEN _and_ HOLGER _make a dash for the door, fling it open and_
BERTEL _enters. He is a jolly robust peasant uncle of early middle
life, clad in rough gray jerkin and hose, with a dark gray cloak
wrapped about him. He so radiates cheer that the room seems warmer
for his presence in it. Nothing to be afraid of about him, the
children adore him._)
STEEN. (_Clinging to him, happily_) Oh, Uncle, Uncle, Uncle Bertel!
HOLGER. (_Seizing_ BERTEL _on his other side_) Uncle Bertel,
welcome!
BERTEL. (_Tousling their hair and shaking himself loose in pretended
dismay_) Help, help!--Robbers!--I'm beset!--Gently, youngsters!--(_He
goes over to the fire and stands warming himself_) Brrrrr! It's cold in
the forest to-night!--Well, (_He faces them genially_) why am I
come?--Tell me that!
STEEN. (_Exultantly_) To take us to the Christmas Service?
HOLGER. Uncle! How didst thou know we were not going?
BERTEL. I met a fox--who said--
HOLGER. Oh-h!--Thou hast seen mother and father!
BERTEL. (_Draws the stool nearer the fire and sits, the children
promptly drop on the floor beside him_) By our Lady, yes!--and walking
so fast they had only time to throw me a word from the sides of their
mouths. "Go up," cried Mother,--"I wist my boys are deep in tears!"--and
I, not wishing to see you drown in so much water--
HOLGER. (_Patting his arm_) Dear Uncle Bertel!
STEEN. (_Rising on his knees_) Come, let's go quick!
BERTEL. Patience, patience, young colt, plenty of time, mother said
something else.
STEEN. What?
BERTEL. (_His eye on the shelf above the fire_) That I should find some
warm porridge for my pains.
HOLGER. (_Springing to his feet_) Why, of course, there _is_
porridge! (_He goes to the shelf_) Nice and warm it is! All ready
for supper. (_He hands the first bowl to_ BERTEL, STEEN _capers
nimbly across the intervening space and seats himself on the side of the
hearth, facing_ BERTEL, _his back to the audience_)
STEEN. Supper! How could we forget supper?--Give me a _big_ bowlful,
Holger.
HOLGER. (_Handing_ STEEN _his porridge_) There isn't a _big_
bowlful here.
STEEN. (_Taking the bowl and hugging it_) Nice kind good supper, umh!
(_Begins to eat eagerly_)
HOLGER. (_Suddenly looking toward the door_) Listen!
BERTEL. To what?
HOLGER. (_Awed, hesitant_) Someone--sobbing--at the door! (_He goes
to it, the others watching him startled, he opens the door, finds nothing,
closes it and comes back_) Nothing there!
BERTEL. The wind!--Thy old tricks, Holger,--always dreaming some strange
thing.
HOLGER. (_Recalled by_ BERTEL'S _words to something else_) Didst
thou pass an old woman on the road--near here?
BERTEL. Not a soul nearer than the town gate. (HOLGER _stands thinking,
absorbed_) Come, boy, eat,--_eat_! See how Steen eats!
HOLGER. (_Breaks through his abstraction and reverts to his bright
self_) Oh, Uncle Bertel,--I'm too glad to eat!
BERTEL. (_More seriously_) Thou art right, lad,--fasting were better
than feasting this day in Tralsund!--they say,--do you know what they
say in the town?
HOLGER. What?
BERTEL. They say--that to-night in the great church--when the offerings
are laid upon the altar for the Christ child,--_something will happen_!
(STEEN _has finished his porridge, puts the bowl on the shelf near
him, seizes his cloak and cap from the peg near the hearth and
stands eager to be gone._)
HOLGER. What?
BERTEL. Who can say? All day the folk have been pouring into the town as
never before. The market place is crowded, every inn is full. No church
but the cathedral could hold such a multitude. Never have I seen such
excitement, such fervor!
HOLGER. There will be many gifts!
BERTEL. --the rich are bringing their treasure, gold and jewels, king's
ransoms, aye and the King comes. (BERTEL _finishes his porridge and
hands the bowl to_ STEEN)
HOLGER. The King?
BERTEL. The King Himself!
STEEN. Oh, and shall we see Him, Uncle, and the fine gifts and
everything?
BERTEL. Why not?--Even the poorest may go up and give--what hast thou to
offer?
STEEN. (_Abashed_) I?--Nothing! (_Puts his porridge bowl and_
BERTEL'S _on the shelf then goes restlessly to the door_)
HOLGER. (_Breaking in with eagerness_) Oh, I have, see, Uncle?
(_Feels in his pocket and brings out two pennies_) See!--Last week
I was gathering sticks in the forest and a fine gentleman rode past and
asked the way of me. I showed him the path and he gave me these!
(_Holds up the pennies_)
BERTEL. (_Rising and going to_ HOLGER _who is in the middle of the
room_) Faith, real money in the family. (_Stoops and looks at the
pennies as though they were a rare sight_)
STEEN. Oh, I thought we were going to buy cakes with those, Holger.
HOLGER. But it's better to give it to the Christ Child. You see He is a
little child, smaller than even you,--and I think He would like a little
gift,--a little bright gift that would buy cakes for Him. (HOLGER _goes
toward the window and stands looking dreamily out at the lights of the
church_)
BERTEL. Aye, to-night we must think of Him,--there in His Holy Church.
HOLGER. It _is_ a holy place, the church!--I feel it every time I
go,--it's like God's forest,--the pillars like old oaks and the great
windows all colors like sunsets through the trees.
BERTEL. _'Tis_ like the forest.
HOLGER. And when the organ plays that's like a storm gathering in the
mountains.
BERTEL. A storm?--Aye!--"The Lord hath His way in the whirlwind and in
the storm and the clouds are the dust of His feet!"--Why should He not
do a wonder as of old? Perhaps the great miracle will come again!
HOLGER. Oh, which, Uncle?--There are so many in the Bible!
STEEN. Yes, which?--Would there be a whale now to swallow a priest?
BERTEL. Thou goosey! This was no Bible miracle,--it happened there,
_there_, where we see the lights,--hundreds of years ago. (BERTEL
_has followed_ HOLGER _to the window and_ STEEN _joins them.
As he speaks_ BERTEL _slips his arms affectionately round both
children and the three stand looking out. At this moment something stirs
in the dim shadows that shroud the corner up above the fire-place.
Suddenly out of the dark the_ OLD WOMAN _emerges. A tall figure,
if she were not so bent, wrapped in a black cloak. There is nothing
grotesque or sinister in her appearance, she might have stood for a
statue of old age, impressive in its pathos. As she sits on the stool
near the fire she throws back the cloak disclosing the plain straight
dress of gray beneath. The light of the fire reveals her crouched,
swaying back and forth praying silently, her face still shaded by the
heavy hood of her cloak. The others gazing intently out at the church
do not see her._ BERTEL _continues speaking_) Surely thou hast
heard of the Miracle of the Chimes?
HOLGER. I've heard folks speak of it,--but I never knew just what
happened.
STEEN. Oh, tell us, Uncle Bertel.
BERTEL. Aye, listen then!--You see the great tower there?--(_Both
children nod emphatically_) It goes so high into the clouds that no one
can see it's top!--No one even knows how high it is for the men who
built it have been dead for hundreds of years.
STEEN. But what has that to do with the chimes?
HOLGER. Hush, Steen, let uncle speak!
BERTEL. The chimes are up at the top of the tower--and they are holy
bells,--miraculous bells, placed there by sainted hands,--and when they
rang 'twas said that angels' voices echoed through them.
STEEN. Why doesn't someone ring them _now_?
BERTEL. Ah, that is not so easy!--They are said to ring on Christmas Eve
when the gifts are laid on the altar for the Christ-child,--but not
every offering will ring them, it must be a perfect gift. And for all
these years not one thing has been laid upon the altar good enough to
make the chimes ring out.
HOLGER. Oh, that's what the priest was talking about to mother, then. He
said it mustn't be just a fine gift for show but something full of love
for the Christ-child.
STEEN. Oh, I want to hear them!
BERTEL. _We shall!_--The very air is full of holy mystery! The Spirit
of Christ will be there in the church to-night! (_To_ HOLGER) Thy cap,
boy!
(HOLGER _stands wrapt in thought gazing out at the cathedral._)
STEEN. (_Taking the cap and cloak from the peg near the door and
bringing them down and piling them into_ HOLGER'S _arms_) Here
they are, old dreamer!--(_He turns back up toward the door in such a
way that he does not see the silent figure in the corner_) _And
hurry!_
(BERTEL _too turns toward his left hand and does not see the
woman._)
HOLGER. (_In a tone of bright happiness, roused from his dreaming_) I'm
coming!--Nothing can happen to stop us now, can it? (_As he says this he
wheels to his right in a way that brings the chimney corner in his line
of vision. He starts, bends forward staring as the others open the door,
then he speaks in a tone that is little more than a gasp_) _Steen!_
(_The others stop and stare at him, then in the direction of his
look._)
STEEN. Oh!--The Old Woman!
BERTEL. (_Looking to_ STEEN) When did she come in?
STEEN. I didn't see her!
(HOLGER _crosses timidly towards her. As he approaches the_ OLD
WOMAN _turns her eyes on him and holds out her hands in pitiful
appeal._)
HOLGER. What dost thou want, dame?
OLD WOMAN. (_In a voice that is harsh and broken_) Refuge--from the
storm of the world!
HOLGER. Surely thou shalt rest here.
OLD WOMAN. (_Half rises stiffly as_ HOLGER _draws nearer_) Oh,
son, I am so weary and so heavy laden. (_She sways and_ HOLGER
_runs forward, catching her in his arms and supporting her on the stool.
The others stand watching. She sits huddled forward in a position that
suggests collapse_)
HOLGER. She's faint! (_He touches her hands_) She's so cold! Quick,
Steen, build up the fire! (STEEN _goes to the fire and puts on another
log, the flames blase up_. HOLGER _busies himself chafing the woman's
hands and covering her with the old cloak that has dropped back from her
shoulders_) She must have lost her way in the forest.
BERTEL. (_Stands watching the woman rather suspiciously, now comes to_
HOLGER _taps him on the arm and draws him a little apart, speaking in an
undertone_) We have scant time to lose with that old beggar.
HOLGER. What'll I do with her?
BERTEL. Leave her and come on.
STEEN. And _come_--before it is to-morrow! (_He is back by the door, his
hand on the latch_)
HOLGER. (_Turns and looks at the old woman and then back to_ BERTEL) Oh,
I--ought we to go and leave her?
STEEN. Not go?
BERTEL. Go, of course we'll go, she'll warm herself and march along.
HOLGER. But she is ill. (_Turns to_ STEEN _with new decision in his
manner_) Thou shalt go with Uncle but I--must stay with her.
BERTEL. Nonsense, Holger!
HOLGER. No, it isn't!--If we should all go now, the fire would go out
and the light,--and she would wake up in the cold darkness and not know
where to turn for help.
BERTEL. Na, by Saint Christopher!--Miss a miracle to keep company with
a beggar!--Who held her hand before thou camest along? Send her packing
and make haste, Holger.
STEEN. Oh, do, Holger!
HOLGER. If there were some place near that we could take her.
BERTEL. There isn't a place on the road,--they've all gone to town long
ago. Bid her fare there also!
HOLGER. (_Looks at the_ OLD WOMAN, _then at_ BERTEL, _then back to the_
OLD WOMAN, _then he shakes his head_) Mother wouldn't treat her
so,--she'd be good to her.
BERTEL. Think of what you'll miss! (_An expression of anguish passes
over_ HOLGER'S _face, but he shakes his head and turns toward the old
woman_) Well, this is idle talk, thou and I will go, Steen.
STEEN. Oh, come,--let's go!
BERTEL. (_To_ STEEN, _but for_ HOLGER'S _benefit_) Thou
and I will see the King, perchance--The Christ! Thou art stubborn, Holger,
I who am older tell thee what to do! (HOLGER _shakes his head again_)
Come, Steen! (_He opens the door and goes out_)
STEEN. (_Following him_) Good-bye, Holger.
HOLGER. Good-bye! (STEEN _goes out and shuts the door. There is a
moment's pause while_ HOLGER _stands staring at the closed door, then he
suddenly runs toward it_) Oh, wait, wait for me, Uncle, I will go! (_He
opens the door, starts to go through it, then stops, turns and looks at
the Woman, is drawn slowly backward by his gaze and comes in closing the
door_) No!
WOMAN. (_Moaning_) The path--is so--steep!
HOLGER. (_Goes to her and bends over her_) Didst thou speak, dame?
(_The_ WOMAN _does not answer_) Thou art like Grandmother, and
I know what Mother would do for _her_! (_Feeling her hands_)
Art warmer, dame?--still cold!--The covers aren't very thick. (_He looks
about the bare room, sees the old shawl hanging from the peg near the fire,
takes it down and spreads it over the woman_) Thou must get warm!
(_Goes to the fire and builds it higher_)
WOMAN. (_Still wandering in her mind_) Berries,--yes, find berries.
HOLGER. Oh, thou art hungry! (_He turns to the shelf, takes his own
untasted bowl of porridge, brings it to her_) Dame, here is food!
WOMAN. (_Rousing_) Food, give it to me, child, I am dying for food!
(HOLGER _gives her the porridge and sits down on the floor beside
her._)
HOLGER. (_Watching her as she devours the porridge_) _Ah, poor
soul!_--Why, thou wert starving!--Na, just see!--Mother says that's what
makes my little brother so round and rosy, because he eats so much
porridge,--you like it, don't you?
WOMAN. It is life itself! (_Her voice has grown young and strong. Sinks
back again as she has eaten it all_) Bless thee, Child!
(HOLGER _sets the empty dish aside on the hearth and turns to feel
her hands._)
HOLGER. Oh, thou art warm!
WOMAN. Aye, warm! (_In a voice increasingly rich and sweet. At this
moment there comes the distant sound of organ music._ HOLGER
_straightens suddenly in a listening attitude_) Listen,--is that music?
HOLGER. From the Cathedral!--Aye, it must be,--last summer we could hear
it plain, and now with so many thousands there! (_Leaves the woman and
stands in the center of the room listening attentively_) It's
beginning!--(_Pause_) Everyone is there!
WOMAN. Why are they there.
HOLGER. It's the great service! (_He goes toward the window and stands
looking out. He talks on half to her, half to himself_) All the world is
there, the village folk, and strangers from afar, great court folk,
too,--aye, and the King,--our King! And He will give a gift,--a King's
gift! (_She rises erectly and follows him across the room. There is the
strength and poise of youth in her walk. The heavy black hood has fallen
back revealing a head covering of white linen that suggests a sister of
Charity and gives her face a look of austerity and sweetness. She is
strong, maternal, beautiful. Intuitively,_ HOLGER, _in his
disappointment begins to lean upon her sympathy. The music grows a
little louder and floats into the room_) Look, dame, you can even see
the windows gleam! It is so near! It's all beginning and--I--am not
there! (_A sob creeps into his voice_)
WOMAN. Son!
HOLGER. Aye, dame? (_He turns and comes toward her, she seats herself on
the stool near the window, reaches out a hand and draws him down beside
her_)
WOMAN. Thou, too, wouldst go? (HOLGER, _too moved by her sympathy to
speak, nods silently and puts up a hand to hide the trembling of his
lips. She slips her hand to his shoulder_) Another time thou'll go!
HOLGER. (_Fighting back his tears_) It'll never be the same again!
To-night the Christ comes. Bertel said--"The Christ!"
WOMAN. Nay, son, pray to the Christ-child, pray that He does not pass
thee by! (_She sits facing the back wall of the hut._ HOLGER _kneels
before her, and drops his head in her lap. She lays her hand gently upon
his hair and makes the sign of the cross above him_)
(_As they have been talking together, the fire on the hearth has
burned itself out and the shadows in the room have crept forward and
closed around them till only a faint outline of_ HOLGER _and the_
WOMAN _can be distinguished in the glimmer of moonlight shining
through the window nearby. There is a long pause broken only by the
boy's sobbing which gradually sinks to silence. As he prays, a faint
light begins to grow behind him. The smoke-grimed back wall of the
hut has vanished and in its place appears a vision of the cathedral
chancel.--One by one objects emerge from the darkness. The light
touches the golden altar, the gleaming appointments upon it, the
jewel-like tones of the stained glass window above, and the rich
carpet under foot; it shows the marble arches at the sides and
shines softly on the robe of the kneeling_ PRIEST. _As the dim
vision grows to clearness, so the music comes nearer and swells
forth softly into the Christmas processional. Unconscious of it all_
HOLGER _looks up at the_ WOMAN, _his face swept with despair_.)
HOLGER. Oh, it's no use! I'd rather be all blind and never see than miss
the vision that the Christ will send!
WOMAN. (_Gazing at the vision_) Look, look what comes!
HOLGER. (_Staring at the woman's face illuminated by the light from the
chancel_) Dame! (_He turns to see where the light comes from and the
vision meets his eye_) Oh-h-h-h! (_He crouches back at the_ WOMAN'S
_feet, held spell-bound by the sight. As the music changes the_ PRIEST
_rises slowly to his feet, faces the congregation and makes a gesture of
approach. The voices of the choir join the music, and from the left side
of the chancel, people begin to enter carrying their gifts_)