The Return of Peter Grimm by David Belasco (classic reads .TXT) 📕

under his arm._

DR. MACPHERSON. How's William? [CATHERINE _tries to hide her tears, but he sees through her. He tosses his cap, coat and book on the sofa._] What's the matter?

CATHERINE. Nothing.... I was only thinking.... I was hoping that those we love ... and lose ... _can't_ see us here. I'm beginning to believe there's not much happiness in _this_ world.

DR. MACPHERSON. Why, you little snip. I've a notion to spank you. Talking like that with life before you! Read this book, child; [_Gesturing towards the book on the sofa._] it proves that the dead do see us; they do come back. [_Walks to the foot of the stairs--turns._] Catherine, I understand that you've not a penny to your name--unless you marry Frederik; that he has inherited you along with the orchids and tulips. Don't let that influence you. If Peter's plans bind you--and you look as though they did--my door's open. Think it over. It's not too late. [_Goes half-way up the stairs--then pauses._] Don't let the neighbours' opinions and a few silver spoons--[_Pointing to the wedding presents_ stand in the way of your future. [_Exit into_ WILLIAM'S _room. The rain increases. The sky grows blacker--the room darker._ CATHERINE _gives a cry and stretches out her arms, not looking up._

CATHERINE. Uncle Peter! Uncle Peter! Why did you do it? Why did you ask it? Oh, dear! Oh, dear! If you could see me now. [_She stands rigid--her arms outstretched._ MARTA, _who has silently entered from the dining-room with fresh candles, goes to_ CATHERINE. CATHERINE _suddenly buries her face on_ MARTA'S _broad breast, breaking into sobs; then recovering, wipes her eyes._] There, there ... I mustn't cry ... others have troubles, too, haven't they?

MARTA. Others have troubles, too.

CATHERINE. I had hoped, Marta, that Annamarie would have heard of Uncle's loss and come back to us at this time....

MARTA. If it had only brought us all together once more; but no message ... nothing ... I cannot understand.

CATHERINE. She knows that our door is open....

_The rain beats against the windows. A sharp double knock is heard at the door._ CATHERINE _starts as though suddenly brought to herself, hastily goes into the next room, taking the_ DOCTOR'S _book with her._ MARTA _has hurried towards the front door, when the_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _and_ COLONEL LAWTON _appear in the hall as though they had entered quickly, to escape the storm._ MARTA, _greeting them, passes of to tell_ FREDERIK _of their presence. The_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _wears a long, black cloth, rain-proof coat._ COLONEL LAWTON _wears a rubber poncho._ COLONEL LAWTON _is a tall man with a thin brown beard and moustache, about forty-eight. He is dressed in a Prince Albert coat, unpressed trousers, and a negligee shirt. He wears spectacles and has a way of throwing back his head and peering at people before answering them. The_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _sets his umbrella in the hall and the_ COLONEL _hangs his broad-brimmed hat on the handle--as though to let it drip._

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Brr! I believe it's raining icicles.

COLONEL LAWTON. [_Taking off his overshoes._] Gee Whillikins! What a day! Good thing the old windmill out yonder is tied up. Great weather for baptisms, Parson. [_There is a faint, far-away rumble of thunder._ FREDERIK _enters._] Well, here we are, Frederik, my boy--at the time you mentioned.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. How are you, Frederik?

COLONEL LAWTON _crosses to the fire, followed by the_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY.

FREDERIK. [_Who has gone to the desk for a paper lying under a paper-weight._] I sent for you to hear a memorandum left by my uncle. I only came across it yesterday. [_There is a louder peal of thunder. A flash of lightning illuminates the room._

COLONEL LAWTON. I must have drawn up ten wills for the old gentleman, but he always tore 'em up. May I have a drink of his plum brandy, Frederik?

FREDERIK. Help yourself. Pastor?

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Er--er--

COLONEL LAWTON _goes to the sideboard and pours out two drinks from a decanter. A heavy roll of thunder now ends in a sharp thunderclap._ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY, _who is entering the room, gives a cry and puts her hands over her face._ COLONEL LAWTON _bolts his whiskey. The_ REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _takes a glass and stands with it in his hand._

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Removing her hands in time to see the brandy._] Why, Henry! What are you doing? Are your feet wet?

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. No, Rose; they're not. I want a drink and I'm going to take it. It's a bad night. [_Drinks._

COLONEL LAWTON. [_Throws a hickory log on the fire, which presently blazes up, making the room much lighter._] Go ahead, Frederik. [_Sits._

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _has drawn up a chair for his wife, and now seats himself before the snapping hickory fire._

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. I knew that your uncle would remember his friends and his charities. He was so liberal! One might say of him that he was the very soul of generosity. He gave in such a free-handed, princely fashion.

FREDERIK. [_Reading in a businesslike manner._] For Mrs. Batholommey--

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. The dear man--to think that he remembered me! I knew he'd remember the church and Mr. Batholommey, of course; but to think that he'd remember me! He knew that my income was very limited. He was so thoughtful! His purse was always open.

FREDERIK. [_Eyes_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY _for a second, then continues._] For Mr. Batholommey--[REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY _nods solemnly._] and the Colonel.

COLONEL LAWTON. [_Taking out a cigar._] He knew that I did the best I could for him ... [_His voice breaks._] the grand old man. [_Recovering._] What'd he leave me? Mrs. B.--er? [_Nods inquiringly at_ MRS. BATHOLOMMEY, _who bows assent, and he lights his cigar._

FREDERIK. [_Glancing at the paper._] Mrs. Batholommey, he wished you to have his miniature--with his affectionate regards.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Dear old gentleman--and er--yes?

FREDERIK. To Mr. Batholommey--

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. But--er--you didn't finish with me.

FREDERIK. You're finished.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I'm finished?

FREDERIK. You may read it yourself if you like.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. No, no, no. She'll take your word for it. [_Firmly._] Rose!

FREDERIK. [_Reads._] "To Mr. Batholommey, my antique watch fob--with my profound respects." [_Continues._] To Colonel Lawton--

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. His watch fob? Is _that_ what he left to _Henry_? Is that all? [_As_ FREDERIK _nods._] Well! If he had no wish to make _your_ life easier, Henry, he should at least have left something for the church. Oh! Won't the congregation have a crow to pick with you!

FREDERIK. [_Reading._] "To my life-long friend, Colonel Lawton, I leave my most cherished possession." [COLONEL LAWTON _has a look on his face as though he were saying, "Ah! I'll get something worth while."_

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Angrily._] When the church members hear that--

COLONEL LAWTON. [_Chewing his cigar._] I don't know why he was called upon to leave anything to the church--he gave it thousands; and only last month, he put in chimes. As _I_ look at it, he wished to give you something he had _used_--something personal. Perhaps the miniature and the fob _ain't_ worth three whoops in Hell,--it's the sentiment of the thing that counts--[_Chewing the word with his cigar._] the sentiment. Drive on, Fred.

FREDERIK. "To Colonel Lawton, my father's prayer-book."

COLONEL LAWTON. [_Suddenly changing--dazed._] His prayer-book ... me?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Seeing_ FREDERIK _lay down the paper and rise._] Is that all?

FREDERIK. That's all.

COLONEL LAWTON. [_Still dazed._] A prayer-book.... Me? Well, I'll be-- [_Struck._] Here, Parson, let's swap. You take the prayer-book--I'll take the old fob.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Stiffly._] Thank you. I already _have_ a prayer-book. [_Goes to the window and looks out--his back turned to the others--trying to control his feelings._

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Her voice trembling with vexation and disappointment._] Well, all that I can say is--I'm disappointed in your uncle.

COLONEL LAWTON. Is it for this you hauled us out in the rain, Frederik?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Bitterly._] I see now ... he only gave to the church to show off.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Rose! ... I myself am disappointed, but--

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. He did! Or why didn't he _continue_ his work? He was _not_ a generous man. He was a hard, uncharitable, selfish old man.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Horrified._] Rose, my dear!

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. He was! If he were here, I'd say it to his face. The congregation sicked _you_ after him. Now that he's gone and you'll get nothing more, they'll call you slow--slow and pokey. You'll see! You'll see to-morrow.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Sh!

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. As for the Colonel, who spent half his time with Mr. Grimm, what is his reward? A watch-fob! [_Prophetically._] Henry, mark my words--this will be the end of _you_. It's only a question of a few weeks. One of these new football playing ministers, just out of college, will take _your_ place. It's not what you _preach_ now that counts; it's what you coax out of the rich parishioners' pockets.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [_In a low voice._] _Mrs._ Batholommey!

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Religion doesn't stand where it did, Henry--there's no denying that. There was a time when people had to go to church--they weren't decent if they didn't. Now you have to wheedle 'em in. The church needs funds in these days when a college professor is openly saying that-- [_Her voice breaks._] the Star of Bethlehem was a comet. [_Weeps._

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Control yourself. I must insist upon it, Mrs. Batholommey.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Breaking down--almost breathlessly._] Oh! If I said all the things I feel like saying about Peter Grimm--well--I shouldn't be fit to be a clergyman's wife. Not to leave his dear friends a--

COLONEL LAWTON. He _wasn't_ liberal; but, for God's sake, madam, pull yourself together and think what he ought to have done for me!--I've listened to his plans for twenty years. I've virtually given up my business for him, and what have I got out of it? Not a button! Not a button! A bible. Still _I'm_ not complaining. Hang that chimney, Frederik, it's smoking. [COLONEL LAWTON _stirs the fire--a log falls out and the flame goes down. The room has gradually grown darker as the night approaches._

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [_Turning on_ COLONEL LAWTON.] Oh, you've feathered your nest, Colonel! You're a rich man.

COLONEL LAWTON. [_Enraged, raising his voice._] What? I never came here that _you_ weren't begging.

FREDERIK. [_Virtuously--laying down the paper._] Well, I'm disgusted! When I think how much more I should have if he hadn't continually doled out money to every one of you!

COLONEL LAWTON. What?

FREDERIK. He was putty in your hands.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Yes, you can afford to defend his memory--you've got the money.

FREDERIK. I don't defend his memory. He was a gullible old fossil, and the whole town knew it.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. _You_ did at any rate. I've heard you flatter him by the hour.

FREDERIK. Of course. He liked flattery and I gave him what he wanted. Why not? I gave him plenty. The rest of you were at the same thing; and I had the pleasure of watching him give you the money that belonged to me--to _me_--my money.... What business had he to be generous with my money? [_The_ COLONEL _strikes a match to light his cigar, and, as it flares up, the face of_ FREDERIK _is seen--distorted with anger._] I'll tell you this: had he lived much longer, there would have been nothing left for me. It's a fortunate thing for me that--[_He pauses, knowing that he has