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