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THE BIRTH OF MAN AND THE MOTHER’S TRAVAIL

Profound darkness; not a stir. Like a swarm of mice in hiding, the gray silhouettes of Old Women in strange headgear are dimly discerned; also vaguely the outline of a large, lofty room. The Old Women carry on a conversation in low, mocking voices.

OLD WOMEN’S CONVERSATIONS

I wonder whether it’ll be a boy or a girl.

What difference does it make to you?

I like boys.

I like girls. They always sit at home waiting till you call on them.

Do you like to go visiting?

[The Old Women titter.

He knows.

He knows. (Silence)

Our friend would like to have a girl. She says boys are so restless and venturesome and are always seeking danger. Even when they are little, they like to climb tall trees and bathe in deep water. They often fall, and they drown. And when they get to be men, they make wars and kill one another.

She thinks girls don’t drown. I have seen many girls drowned. They look like all drowned people, wet and green.

She thinks girls don’t get killed by stones thrown at them.

Poor woman, she has such a hard time giving birth to her child. We have been sitting here sixteen hours, and she is still crying. At first she cried out loud. Her screams pierced our ears. Then she cried more quietly, and now she is only moaning.

The doctor says she’ll die.

No, the doctor says the child will die and she will live.

Why do they bear children? It is so painful.

And why do they die? It is still more painful.

[The Old Women laugh suppressedly.

Yes, they bear children and die.

And bear children again.

[They laugh. A subdued cry of the suffering woman is heard.

Beginning again.

She’s recovered her voice. That’s good.

That’s good.

Poor husband. He’s lost his head completely. You ought to see him. He’s a sight. At first he was glad his wife was pregnant and said he wanted a boy. He thinks his son will be a cabinet minister or a general. Now he doesn’t want anything, neither a boy nor a girl. He just goes about grieving and crying.

Every time she is seized with pain he begins to labor, too, and gets red in the face.

He was sent to the chemist’s shop for medicine, and he hung about there for two hours without being able to remember what he was sent for. He returned without it.

[The Old Women titter. The cries grow louder and die away. Silence.

What’s the matter with her? Maybe she has died already.

No. If she had, we’d hear crying, and the doctor would come running and begin to talk nonsense. They’d bring her husband out in a faint, and we’d have to work over him. No, she’s not dead.

Then what are we sitting here for?

Ask Him. What do we know?

He won’t tell.

He won’t tell. He never tells anything.

He orders us about as he pleases, gets us out of bed, and makes us watch; and then it turns out that our coming wasn’t even needed.

We came of our own accord, didn’t we? We must tell the truth. There, she’s screaming again.

Haven’t you had as much of it as you want?

Are you satisfied?

I keep my mouth shut and wait.

You’re an angel.

[They laugh. The cries grow louder.

Listen to her. What fearful pain she must be suffering. Have you any idea of what the pain is like? It’s as if your insides were being torn to pieces.

We all have borne children.

It’s just as if she were not herself. I don’t recognize our friend’s voice. It’s naturally so soft and gentle.

Her screaming is more like the roar of a wild beast.

You feel the night in it.

You feel the boundless black forest and hopelessness and terror.

You feel solitude and grief. There are other people with her. Why can’t you hear other voices beside that savage, dismal wail?

They are talking, but you can’t hear them. Have you ever noticed how solitary man’s cries are? Any number of men will talk, and you won’t hear them. But let one human being cry, and it seems as if the others were all silent, listening.

I once heard a man scream who had been run over by a Carriage and had his leg crushed. The street was full of people. Yet he seemed to be the only one there.

But this is more terrible.

Say rather it is louder.

I should say it is more prolonged.

No, it’s more terrible. You feel death in it.

You had a feeling of death then, too. In fact, the man did die.

Don’t dispute. It’s all the same to you.

[Silence. Cries.

How strange man’s crying is! When you yourself are ill and cry, you don’t notice how strange it is. I can’t imagine the mouth that produces such sounds. Can it be a woman’s mouth? I can’t imagine it.

It’s as if it got twisted and crooked.

As if the sound issued from some depth. Now it’s like the cry of someone drowning. Listen, she’s choking.

A heavy person is sitting on her chest.

Someone is choking her.

[The crying ceases.

At last she has quieted down. You get tired of crying. It’s monotonous and not beautiful.

You’re looking for beauty here too, are you?

[The Old Women titter.

Hush! Is He here?

I don’t know.

He seems to be.

He doesn’t like laughing.

They say He laughs Himself.

Whoever heard Him laugh? You are simply repeating hearsay. So many lies are told about Him.

He hears us. Let us be serious.

[They laugh quietly.

After all, I’d like to know whether it’ll be a boy or a girl.

I admit, it’s interesting to know whom you’ll have to deal with.

I wish it died before it was born.

What a kind creature you are.

No better than you.

I hope it turns out to be a general.

[They laugh.

You are too merry. I don’t like it.

And you are too sad. I don’t like that.

Don’t wrangle. Don’t wrangle. We are all both sad and merry. Let each be what she pleases. (Silence)

When they are born, they are so funny. Babies are very funny.

And self-satisfied.

And very exacting, I don’t like them. They begin to cry at once and make demands, as if they expected everything to be ready for them. Even before looking, they know there is a breast and milk, and demand them. Then they demand to be put to sleep and rocked and dandled and patted on their red backs. I like them better when they die. Then they’re less exacting. They stretch out of themselves and don’t ask to be rocked.

No, they are very funny. I like to wash them when they are born.

I like to wash them when they are dead.

Don’t dispute. Don’t dispute. Each will have her way. One will wash the child when it is born, another when it dies.

But why do they think they have a right to make demands the moment they are born? I don’t like it. They don’t think they have. It’s their stomachs that make the demands.

They’re forever demanding.

But their demands are never granted.

[The Old Women laugh. The cries begin again.

She is screaming again.

Animals give birth to their offspring more easily.

And they die more easily, and live more easily; I have a cat. You ought to see how fat and happy she is.

I have a dog, and I tell him every day: “You are going to die.” His only reply is to show his teeth and to wag his tail gayly.

But they are animals.

And these are human beings.

[They laugh.

Now she’ll either die or be delivered. I feel that the whole remnant of her strength is in that wail.

Eyes wide open.

Cold perspiration on her forehead.

[They listen.

She is giving birth to the child.

No, she is dying.

[The cries cease.

I tell you

SOMEONE IN GRAY (speaks in a resonant, powerful voice)

Silence! Man is born.

[Almost simultaneously with His announcement the crying of an infant is heard and the candle in His hand lights. A tall candle. It burns hesitatingly and feebly. Gradually the flame grows stronger. The corner in which Someone in Gray stands motionless is always darker than the other corners, and the yellow flame illumines His blunt chin, His tightly closed lips, and His massive, bony face. The upper part of His face is concealed by His cap. He is somewhat taller than an ordinary man.

He puts the long, thick candle in an antique candlestick. His hand comes into relief against the green bronze. It is gray, firm, with long, thin fingers.

Gradually the room grows brighter. The figures of five hunch-backed Old Women emerge from the gloom, and the room becomes visible. It is rectangular, with high, smooth, monotonously colored walls. Two curtainless windows in the background and two on the right. The night glooms through them. Straight, high-backed chairs against the walls._

THE OLD WOMEN (talking rapidly)

Hear them running about. They’re coming here.

How bright it is! Let’s go.

Look, the candle is tall and bright.

Let’s go, let’s go. Quick!

But we’ll come back. We’ll come back.

[They laugh quietly, mockingly, and disappear into the dusk with odd, zigzagging movements. As they leave, the light grows brighter, but still it remains dim, lifeless, and cold. The corner in which Someone in Gray stands motionless with the burning candle is darker than the others.

Enter the Doctor in a white uniform, and Man’s Father, whose face wears an expression of extreme exhaustion and joy. There are lines under his eyes; his cheeks are sunken and his hair is dishevelled; he is very negligently dressed. The Doctor looks very learned._

DOCTOR

Up to the very last moment I didn’t know whether your wife would pull through or not. I used all the means at the disposal of medical skill and science. But science can do very little unless nature helps too; I was really excited. My pulse is still going hard. Though I have assisted at so many births, yet I can’t rid myself of a sense of uneasiness. But you are not listening to me, sir.

MAN’S FATHER

I’m listening, but I can’t hear. Her screams are still ringing in my ears, and it’s hard for me to pull myself together. Poor woman, how she suffered! I was a fool, I was stupid and wanted to have children. But hereafter I will renounce. It is criminal.

DOCTOR

You will call me again when your next child comes.

FATHER

No, never. I’m ashamed to admit it, but just now I hate the child for which she suffered so. I didn’t even see him. What sort of a boy is he?

DOCTOR

He’s a well-fed, strong little youngster, and if I’m not mistaken he resembles you.

FATHER

Me? Fine! Now I’m beginning to love him. I always wanted a boy to look like me. Did you see his nose is like mine, isn’t it?

DOCTOR

Yes, his nose and eyes.

FATHER

His eyes too? Ah, that’s good. I’ll raise your fee.

DOCTOR

You’ll have to pay me for using the instruments also.

FATHER (turning to the corner where He stands motionless)

God, I thank Thee for having granted my wish and given me a son who resembles me. I thank Thee for preserving my wife from death, and bringing my child into the world alive. I pray Thee that he may grow up big, healthy, and strong; that he may be wise and honest, and that he may never cause us grief, but be a constant joy to his mother and me. If Thou wilt do this, I will always believe in Thee and go to church.

[Enter Relatives, six in number. An elderly woman, uncommonly stout, with a double chin and small, proud eyes and an air of extreme haughtiness and self-importance. An elderly man, her husband, very tall and uncommonly thin, so that his coat hangs loosely on his body; a short goatee, long, smooth hair, as if wet, reaching to his shoulders; eye-glasses; has a frightened; yet pedantic expression; a low black silk hat in his hand. A young girl, their daughter, with naively upturned nose, blinking eyes, and open mouth. A weazened woman, with contracted features and a sour expression, in her hand a handkerchief, with which she frequently wipes her mouth; Two young men, looking absolutely alike, with extremely high collars that stretch their necks; glossy hair; a hesitating, embarrassed expression. The characteristics of each of the Relatives is exaggerated in the extreme.

ELDERLY LADY

Let me congratulate you on the birth of your son, dear brother. (Kisses him)

ELDERLY MAN

My dear brother, I heartily congratulate you on the birth of your son, to which you have been looking forward so long. (Kisses him)

THE REST

We congratulate you, dear uncle, on the birth of your son.

[They kiss him. Exit the Doctor.

MAN’S FATHER (greatly moved)

Thank you! Thank you! You are all very good, very nice, dear people, and I love you very much. I had my doubts beforehand thought that you, dear sister, were a little too much rapt up in yourself and your own worth and importance; and that you, dear brother, were somewhat too pedantic. The rest of you I thought were too cold to me, and came here only for the sake of the dinners. Now I see I was mistaken. I’m very happy. I get a son who resembles me, and then all at once I see myself surrounded by so many good people who love me. (They kiss)

GIRL

Uncle dear, what are you going to call your son? I hope you’ll give him a lovely, poetic name. So much depends on a man’s name.

ELDERLY LADY

I should advise a simple, solid name. Men with nice names are usually frivolous and rarely successful.

ELDERLY MAN

It seems to me, brother, you should name your son after some older relative. Keeping the same names in the family tends to preserve and strengthen the line.

FATHER

Yes, my wife and I have already discussed the subject, but have not been able to reach a decision. You see, there are so many new things to think of when a child comes, so many new problems to solve which never arose before.

ELDERLY LADY

It fills up your life.

ELDERLY MAN

It gives life a beautiful purpose. By properly educating a child, preventing it from making the mistakes which we had to pay for so dearly, and strengthening its mind with our own rich experiences, we produce a better man and advance slowly but surely toward the final goal of existence, which is perfection.

FATHER

You are quite right, brother. When I was little I loved to torture animals. That developed cruelty in me. I won’t allow my son to torture animals. Even after I had grown up I often made mistakes in my friendships and love. I chose friends who were unworthy and women who were faithless. I’ll explain to my son

DOCTOR (enters and says aloud)

Your wife is feeling very bad. She wants to see you.

FATHER

Oh, my God! (He and the Doctor leave)

[The Relatives seat themselves in a semicircle. Solemn silence for a time. Someone in Gray stands motionless in the corner, His stony face turned toward them.

RELATIVES’ CONVERSATION

Do you think, dear, she may die?

No, I don’t think so. She is a very impatient woman and makes too much of her pains. All women bear children and none of them die. I have borne six children.

But the way she screamed, mamma?

Yes, her face was purple from screaming. I noticed it.

Not from screaming, but from laboring. You don’t understand about these things. My face got purple too, but I didn’t scream.

Not long ago an acquaintance of mine, the civil engineer’s wife, gave birth to a child, and she scarcely made a sound.

I know. There’s no need for my brother to be so upset. One must be firm and take things calmly. And I’m afraid, too, he’ll introduce a lot of his fantastic notions in the bringing up of his children and indulge their every whim.

He’s a very weak character. He has little enough money, and yet he lends it to people who don’t deserve to be trusted.

Do you know how much the child’s layette cost?

Don’t talk to me of it! It gets on my nerves, my brother’s extravagance does. I often quarrel with him because he’s so improvident.

They say a stork brings babies. What sort of a stork is it?

[The young men burst out laughing.

Don’t talk nonsense. I gave birth to five children right in your presence, and I’m no stork, thank the Lord.

[The young men burst our laughing again. The Elderly Woman eyes them long and sternly.

It’s only a superstition. Children are born in an absolutely natural way, firmly established by science. They’ve moved to new quarters now.

Who?

The engineer and his wife. Their old place was chilly and damp. They complained to the landlord several times, but he paid no attention.

I think it’s better to live in a small place that’s warm than in a large place that’s damp. You are liable to catch your death of cold and rheumatism if you live in a damp house.

I have a friend, too, who lives in a very damp house. And I too. Very damp.

There are so many damp places nowadays.

Tell me, please I’ve been wanting to ask you a long time how do you remove a grease stain from light-colored material?

Woollen?

No, silk.

[The child’s crying is heard behind the scene.

Take a piece of ice and rub it on the spot hard. Then take a hot iron and press the spot.

No? Fancy, how simple! I heard benzine was better.

No, benzine is good for dark material. For light goods ice is better.

I wonder whether smoking is allowed here. Somehow at never occurred to me before whether one may or may not smoke where there is a new-born baby.

It never occurred to me either. How strange! I know it isn’t proper to smoke at funerals, but here

Nonsense! Of course you may smoke.

Smoking is a bad habit just the same. You are still a very young man and ought to take good care of your health. There are many occasions in life when good health is highly essential.

But smoking stimulates.

Believe me, it’s a very unhealthy stimulant. When I was young and reckless, I was also guilty of using, or rather abusing, tobacco

Mamma, listen to him crying. My, how he’s crying! Does he want milk, mamma?

[The young men burst out laughing. The Elderly Woman looks at them sternly.

CURTAIN