THE RAVEN 
 
 A Play 
 
 Four Acts and a Tableau, 
 
 by 
 
 GEORGE C. HAZELTON, Jr., 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "Mistress Nell", "The National Capitol", etc. 
 
 "How can so strange and so fine a genius^ and so 
 sad a life, be exprest and comprest in one line?" 
 
 Alfred, Lord Tennyson. 
 
 New York. 
 190^ 
 
 PE0PE5RTY OF 
 fStfe IS3RAEY OF CONGRB^ 
 
THE RAVEN 
 
 A Play 
 
 in Four Acts and a Tableau, 
 
 by 
 
 GEORGE C. HAZELTON, Jr., 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 ]J7 It ' 
 
 Mistress Nell", "The National Capitol", etc. 
 
 " How can so strange and so fine a genius, and so 
 sad a life, be exprest and comprest in one line?" 
 
 Alfred, Lord Tennyson. 
 
 New York. 
 190^ 
 
 WOfBEt^ OF 
 
P5 3515 
 
 LIBRAHY of CONGRESS 
 Two Cupies Received 
 
 APR 11 1904 
 
 t, ^ Copyrisht Etiiry 
 
 CLASS/^ XXo. No. 
 ' %bpY B 
 
 Copyright, 1903, 
 
 by 
 
 GEORGE C. HAZELTON, Jr. 
 
 (All rights of publication and production strictly reserved) 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONM 
 
 JOHN ALLAN. 
 
 EDGAR ALLAN POE, his adopted son. 
 
 ROSCOE PELHAM, A. M., Allan's secretary. 
 
 TONY PRESTON, Poe's friend. 
 
 PARSON PRIME. 
 
 CARROLL BRENT. 
 
 WILLIAM PIDGEON. 
 
 EREBUS. 
 
 MRS. (Dolly) PIDGEON. 
 
 MRS. ALLAN. 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. 
 
 MARJARY- 
 
 VIRGINIA CLEMM. » 
 HELEN WHITMAN. \ 
 
 Act. I. Lawn before John Allan's home near Rich- 
 mond, Virginia. 
 
 Act II. Sitting room in Poe's cottage, Fordham, New- 
 York. 
 
 Tableau. The Writing of "The Raven." 
 Act. III. 
 
 Scene I. — Hall in Helen Whitman's country house 
 near Fordham. 
 
 Scene II. — Country-lane by High Bridge. 
 Scene III. — Churchyard at night. 
 Act IV. Garret, Baltimore. 
 
ACT I. 
 
 Scene: Lawn before John Allan's house, Rich- 
 mond, Virginia. Landscape backing. Wooden fence 
 {snake fence) from R. J/, to L. 2, and down to L. 1. 
 Gates C. Stile L. 3. Set house {Colonial) R. 3. Steps. 
 Set tree R. 3. E. Rustic seat in front of tree. Rustic 
 bench L. ^. Round rustic table R. of bench R. C. 
 Rocking chair R. Log up L. C. Small table and chair 
 down R. Mr. and Mrs. Allan discovered, drinking tea 
 under trees. Negroes heard singing in distance. 
 
 ALLAN. {Seated on bench R. C. Song dies aioay.) 
 I tell you, my dear, it is your fault. Now, that ends it, 
 once for all. 
 
 MRS. ALLAN. {Seated in rocking chair R.) Just 
 as you say, John. I have had all the faults of the 
 family for thirty-one years, but I am still the " better- 
 half". Have another dish of tea, John? 
 
 ALLAN. No, it's weak. The fault was in adopt- 
 ing the boy at first. It was bad stock, bad stock ; and 
 you should have known it, my dear. 
 
 MRS. ALLAN. John, you know you have said a 
 thousand times that the Poes came of the best blood in 
 the land. 
 
 ALLAN. I said the boy's grandfather was a good 
 man, my dear. General Poe was a patriot, a patriot, a 
 friend of Washington. Lafayette visited his grave be- 
 fore he left the country, knelt and kissed the sod, ex- 
 claiming with tears in his eyes, " Here lies a noble 
 heart." I said the Poes came of the best blood — way 
 back, my dear, way back. 
 
 MRS. ALLEN. Two generations. {Rises and puts 
 tea cup on table.) 
 
ALLAN". Well, two generations is — two generations. 
 
 MRS. ALLAN. {Placing her hand on his shoulder.) 
 Yon remember, John, the day I took you to the poor 
 dead mother's room ? She had died, John, a stranger 
 in a strange land, a beautiful actress, struggling nobly 
 in her art to keep the wolf from the door and from her 
 little ones. A child was clinging to this mother's arm. 
 He called her in the sweetest baby voice, and put out 
 his dimpled hands to her. She did not answer, John. 
 His big brown eyes were full of tears. You remember, 
 John, how the raven curls tossed wildly upon his pretty 
 temples ? God had given us no children of our own, 
 John, — well, you brought the baby here. You gave 
 him a home and yoar name. 
 
 ALLAN. I don't remember any such thing. You are 
 growing old. You forget, my dear, you forget. I have 
 noticed it for some time. You are losing your faculties, 
 I fear. 
 
 MRS. ALLAN. You are losing your heart, John. 
 
 ALLAN. {Rises ; crosses L. Mrs. Allan sits R.) 
 I am losing my patience. He gambles away my money 
 like a song and then comes back with his roguish eye 
 and blandly calls for more. {Ad^vances to L. C.) 
 
 MRS. ALLAN. And you give it to him, John. 
 
 ALLAN. That's it; lay it all at my door. Just like 
 a woman. By George, you have ruined the boy, posi- 
 tively ruined him. I'll make a man of him or kill him. 
 That's the only way to raise boys. He must not be 
 coddled ; he must obey. {Advances to table.) 
 
 MRS. ALLAN. [Rises.) Then you should have 
 begun that way years ago. 
 
 ALLAN. And you have encouraged his infatuation 
 for his cousin Virginia against my pronounced wishes, 
 my dear. It must be stopped. 
 
MRS. ALLAN. His love we cannot control, John. 
 That is the Province of God, not man. 
 
 ALLAN. {Crosses to R. Mrs. Allan crosses to R. 0.) 
 Love ! I will not hear such bosh. 
 
 MRS. ALLAN. Virginia is a beautiful girl and 
 worthy of a prince. 
 
 ALLAN. Tush ! I know the girl for Edgar. An 
 alliance, {Crosses up R. of table.) my dear, an 
 alliance ; no love nonsense. Unite two fortunes to back 
 the boy's brains, and he will own the State, become a 
 great leader, a politican of some use to his country. I 
 never believed much in love. {Crosses to L.) 
 
 MRS. ALLAN. {Crosses to C.) You told me once you 
 did, John, quite vehemently. 
 
 ALLAN. {Sits L.) Times have changed, my dear. I 
 had the faults of a boy then. 
 
 MRS. ALLAN. You have the faults of a man now. 
 I prefer those of the boy. {To bench and sits.) Edgar 
 loves Virginia. I am sure of it. Love is the strongest 
 fibre of his being. You cannot eradicate it. 
 
 ALLAN. Nonsense, I adopted him, he is my boy, 
 he's all wrong ; and I will correct him or have done 
 with him. There ! {Negroes cross up stage., returning 
 from the fitld^ and exeunt saying: ^'^ Good night, 
 Marsa.''"' '•'Good night. Missus.^'' " Whereas Mars'* 
 EdgahT' ''Say 'Good night' 'to Mars' Edgah."" 
 " Good night fo' Mars' Edgah."" etc.) 
 
 MRS. ALLAN. {Rises and up C.) See, John, every 
 one on the place loves him. They would not change 
 " Mars' Edgah." 
 
 ALLAN. {Rises.) Ha ! He is not half so dear to 
 them as he is to me. They do not have to pay his bills. 
 {Goes up L. C.) 
 
 MRS. ALLAN. Are you going far, my dear ? 
 
ALLAN. I am going down the street. I want room 
 to think. 
 
 MRS. ALLAN. {L. of Allan ; putting lier hand on 
 Ms sJioulder fondly .) Then think of this, John: the 
 old grandfather you spoke so hi2;hly of, but now, had 
 worldly notions like yours, John. Yet, you remember, 
 his boy turned his back on home to follow the fortunes 
 of the girl he loved. He threw away a career, the pres- 
 tige of his name, his home, his friends ; he became a 
 strolling player, to be at that sweetheart's side. He 
 was true to his love till death divorced him. Have a 
 care, John. That boy was Edgar's father, {Exit into 
 house.) 
 
 ALLAN. Sentimential bosh ! I've given him one 
 more chance to straighten up ; and it shall be the last. 
 {Calls after her.) Mrs. Allan, Mrs. Allan ! {Hesitates ; 
 then returns O.) My wife never did understand men. 
 By the Lord Harry, the boy, needs making over ; that's 
 what he needs ; and I'll do it or — {Eater Pelham R. 3. 
 E. Stands looking on unobserved.) 
 
 EREBUS. {Enters from L. 2 E.) Where is Mars' 
 Edgah, Marsa ? 
 
 ALLAN. [Crosses to C.) Oh, go to the devil. {Exit 
 C.) 
 
 EREBUS. {Bowing.) Yes, sah. 
 
 FELHAM. {Runs into Erebus.) Where are you 
 going ? 
 
 EREBUS. Todedebble, sah ; but I got dar bef o' I 
 'spected. 
 
 PELHAM. Whose niggah are you ? 
 
 EREBUS. Mars' Edgah' s, sah. 
 
 PELHAM. Ah, Master Edgar's, are you ? 
 
 EREBUS. Yes, sah, he done bought me, sah. 
 
6 
 
 PELHAM. Oh, he bought you, did lie ? 
 
 EREBUS. Yes, sah. Mars' Johnson was murderin' 
 me wid de black snake, sah, an' de good Lord sen' Mars' 
 Edgah to save me, sail. Mars' Edgali don' bought me 
 fo' six hundred dollars, sah. 
 
 PELHAM. {Crossing to house steps ; stands looking 
 in.) Grenerous, wasn't he, with the Grovernor's money ? 
 
 EREBUS. {L. C.) 'Deed he was, sah. 
 
 PELHAM. {Looking at Erebus critically.) What is 
 your name ? 
 
 EREBUS. {Frightened.) Dunno, sah. 
 
 PELHAM. Who was your father ? 
 
 EREBUS. Fo' de Lord, Marsa, I don' forget de gem- 
 man's name. 
 
 PELHAM. Oh ! 
 
 EREBUS. Mars' Johnson call me, " Dat damn nigga,h, 
 sah"; but Mars' Edgah he call me " Mr. Erebus," sah. 
 
 PELHAM. {Crossing to Erebus.) So Mr. Edgar 
 calls you Erebus, Prince of Darkness, does he ; quite 
 clever of him. 
 
 EREBUS. Yes, sah, an' he calls me his "valley", 
 sah. 
 
 PELHAM. {Crossing to L.) He needs a troop of 
 valets to look after him. Well, Mr. Erebus, you may 
 get me a glass of milk and some crackers. 
 
 EREBUS. Yes, sah. {A.nde.) Mars' Edgah nebber 
 ask fo' no milk. 
 
 PELHAM. Hurry up there. 
 
 EREBUS. I'se gwine, sah. {Exit into house.) 
 
 PELHAM. {Sits L.) So Virginia had an engage- 
 ment, had she ? Could not see me this afternoon. No 
 doubt, taking a siesta so she could sit up and count the 
 stars with our handsome si)endlhrift to-night. A ro- 
 
mantic pop-in-jay who writes bad verses — a Byronic 
 genius, bah ! Her veranda is so pretty, tind these nights 
 are so enchanting there. We'll wait — the fool will 
 hang himself in time — just a little time. The Gov- 
 ernor has stood it a good while ; but it will end, and 
 then Miss Virginia may sit in the moonlight with the 
 beggar nntil — 
 
 EREBUS. {Enters at cue ^^ moonllqliV and places 
 tray on table R.) Dar's yo' milk and crackers. Mars' 
 Pelham. 
 
 PELHAM. {Grosses to tahle.) Hem. What makes 
 you look so black ? 
 
 EREBUS. T reckon de good Lord, Mars' Pelham. 
 {Pelham sits at tahle and eats. Erebus crosses at 
 back, goes up and looks off L. C, then comes down L 3 
 and looks off\ shaking his head and mumbling . Pel- 
 ham looks around at him.) 
 
 PELHAM. What is the matter ? Do you hear ? 
 
 EREBUS. I'se powerful feared fo' Mars' Edgah. 
 
 PELHAM. He needs your solicitude and prayers. 
 
 EREBUS. Somethin' turrible's gwine to happen. 
 When I went fo' de milk, I stub my toe free times ; an' 
 when I'se gwine to milk Ole Brindle, Mars' Edgah's 
 cow, dis morning, she don' dried up. 
 
 PELHAM. That's most prophetic ! Where is your 
 young master ? 
 
 EREBUS. Dunno, sah. He don' ride away wid 
 Mars' Tony Preston las' night an' I nebber put eyes on 
 him sence. {Ooes up L. and sitsonlog. Falls asleep.) 
 
 PELHAM. Probably he was ashamed to come home. 
 {Enter Allan C. and down L. 0. with letters in his 
 hand.) 
 
 ALLAN. That boy will drive me to the poorhouse. 
 Bills, bills, bills ; nothing but bills ! Wine, horses and 
 
8 
 
 cards from morning till night ! By George, I won't 
 stand it any longer. My mind is set. He shall go, bag 
 and baggage. Ah, Pelham ! 
 
 PELHAM. (Rises.) Has anything gone wrong, 
 sir? Can't I 
 
 ALLAN. Grone wrong, gone wrong ! I will be a 
 bankrupt, sir, if that boy keeps on. Here is a letter 
 asking for $600 for some late extravagance. 
 
 PELHAM. [Aside.) Erebus! He will come around 
 all right, Mr. Allan. He is only sowing his wild oats, 
 sir. 
 
 ALLAN. Wild oats, sir ! I reckon he has sowed a 
 gopd many acres of them since I was fool enough to 
 give him a home. (Crosses to H.) 
 
 PELHAM. But he is so brilliant, so handsome, and 
 such an honor to the family, sir, if I may be allowed 
 
 ALLAN. He was such a promising fellow when I 
 adopted him — such a promising fellow. I loved him, 
 sir ; yes, I loved him, and do still ; but there is an end 
 to everything. At the University he disgraced himself 
 and me by his mad conduct. I forgave him — to please 
 my wife. Dismissed from West Point, I took him to 
 my heart and home again. I have paid his debts and 
 paid his debts, and here it is again, sir ; and you see, 
 sir — you see — there is my mail, Pelham. You will 
 please attend to it, sir. That boy will drive me to the 
 grave. (Exits into house.) 
 
 PELHAM. Nothing will make a man surer that he 
 is right than to cross him gently. Miss Virginia may 
 
 yet prefer a poor secretary with some expectations to 
 
 Erebus ! 
 
 EREBUS. (Wakening and coining down L.C) Yes, 
 sah ; yes, sah ! 
 
9 
 
 PELHAM. So you are worried about Mr. Edgar, are 
 yon? 
 
 EREBUS. Yes, sah. {Pelham gives 7iim small fee.) 
 Thank yo', Marsa ; thank yo', sah. 
 
 PELHAM. Your master spends a good part of his 
 leisure at his fair cousin's, eh ? 
 
 EREBUS. Dunno, sah. 
 
 PELHAM. Stupid. He sends you with the messages 
 and flowers, eh ? Come, what have you seen ? Out 
 with it, and not a word about my asking. 
 
 EREBUS. Nothin', Marsa, nothin'. 
 
 PELHAM. Black liar ! Wake up or I'll break every 
 bone in your infernal body. {About to strike Erebus 
 with, his cane.) 
 
 EREBUS. Don' strike. Mars' Pelham, don' strike 
 me, sah. 
 
 PELHAM. Then answer my question, 
 
 EREBUS. Fo' God, I don' know, Mars' Pelham. 
 
 PELHAM. {Offers again to strike him.) Answer, 
 slave. 
 
 POE. {Ofi L. E. U.) Here, enough of that ! {Enters, 
 wearing long cloak., riding boots and spurs. Tony 
 follows.) Fair play, Pelham, fair play! {Comes be- 
 tween them C.) Here, make a ring, Tony. General 
 Pelham and Judge Erebus are about to fight it out. 
 
 TONY. Wait a minute ! I call time until Erebus 
 brings the referees a little something to tone up the 
 judgment. {Sits L. Pelham takes glass of milk and 
 letters ; goes R. and sits.) 
 
 POE. {Standing 0.) Good ! Quick, Erebus, to the 
 cellar with you and bring us some of the Governor's 
 best. We have had a hard gallop. Do you hear, some 
 of the choicest. 
 
10 
 
 EEEBUS. Yes, Mars' Edgah, I'se got it waitin' fo' 
 yo'. {Crosses and hack and exits into the house.) 
 
 TONY. {L. C.) Look at Pelham ! He is drinking 
 .milk ! Ha, ha, lia ! A man that will drink milk is 
 lost, irrevocably lost. 
 
 POE. Tony, don't be critical. 
 
 PELHAM. Tn this world, Mr. Preston, a man's 
 capabilities are not judged by the liquor he drinks. 
 
 POE. But his capacity is, Pelham. Each man to his 
 taste. For myself, I can't drink milk — my digestion 
 won't allow it. 
 
 TONY. And I can't drink water on account of my 
 iron constitution. {He-enter Erebus with tray, bottle, 
 water and glasses, which he places on table R. C.) 
 
 POE. Come, Tony, we'll lower these spirits to raise 
 our own. {Both laugh.) You look disconsolate, Ere- 
 bus. What is the matter with you ? 
 
 EREBUS. A little touch obhigh life, I reckon, Mars' 
 Edgah. {Exit L. C.) 
 
 POE. High life ! Ha, ha, ha ! Come, drink with us, 
 Mr. Pelham. Come, we will have a milk punch. While 
 you drink the milk, we will drink the — punch, eh, 
 Tony ? 
 
 PELHAM. I think it would be wiser for you to join 
 me, sir. I have just been defending you at some risk 
 to myself, sir. 
 
 POE. What, is the Governor in another whirlwind ? 
 Dear old Dad ! He will worry so about nothing. I 
 have told him that I can stop whenever I want to. Now, 
 Tony, {Crosses to Tony with glass ) I leave it to you : 
 If a man can't stop, there is some use of his stopping ; 
 but, when he can, where is the use ? 
 
 TONY. I don't see myself ; but this is a digression. 
 Here's to you, Mr. Pelham. 
 
11 
 
 POE. Hold ! 
 
 TONY. Pelham hasn't any objection to my drinking 
 tiis health, has he? 
 
 POE. Not a drop on your life until you drink to the 
 fairest flower of the South, Virginia Clemm ! 
 
 BOTH. {Standing.) Virginia Clemm ! 
 
 TONY. Ye Gods, I'll drink nine glasses to her. 
 {Drink.) 
 
 POE. Well, Tony, how do you like the first glass ? 
 TONY. {Reoerses empty gtass. Sadly.) Hush, I 
 never speak ill of the dead. 
 
 POE. 'Tis the Governor's best vintage, I promise 
 you. I've sampled them all. 
 
 TONY. It has a taste on the tongue I like. {Crosses 
 to table R. C. Poe to L.) Another drop, please ; even a 
 glass looks better full. Why don't you join us, Mr. 
 Pelham ? What, refuse to toast the fair Virginia ? 
 Rumor says you had a fond eye for her once yourself. 
 
 POE. Yes, Pelham, they tell me you are my most 
 dangerous rival. 
 
 PELHAM. Indeed, I was not aware I was so fortu- 
 nate {Reading letter. Aside.) Hello, what is this? 
 A letter the Governor has overlooked. Whew ! a bill 
 for $1,600,— a gambling debt contracted at College. 
 The last straw. ( Virginia sings off L. 3 E.) 
 
 POE. See, Tony, see, a vision of beauty ! Come, 
 marshal the zephyrs, draw back the curtains of the sky, 
 still the music of the streams, bid the great elms bow 
 their crested heads ; Virginia comes, — behold and listen ! 
 ( Virginia enters oner stile L. 3 E., Poe helping her., a 
 crown., woven of wild flowers^ in her hand.) Enchant- 
 ress, we welcome thee. 
 
 VIRGINIA. {Crossing Poe to C.) You will not sue 
 
12 
 
 me for trespassing. Cousin Edgar ? I am a lone woman 
 entering a den of lions, and no Daniel to protect me. 
 
 TONY. {O.) I'll be your Daniel, Miss Virginia. 
 
 POE. {L.) What beast would harm th(^ wild rose ? 
 
 VIRGINIA. Flatterer. 
 
 POE. {Mock heroically.) Afraid? " In a nation of 
 gallant men, in a nation of men of honor and of cava- 
 liers ! I thought ten thousand swords must have leaped 
 from their scabbards to avenge even a look that 
 threatened her with insult ! " 
 
 TONY. Bravo ! Bravo ! 
 
 VIRGINIA. Aptly quoted for one who never wore a 
 sword. 
 
 PELHAM. Who is the gallant. Miss Virginia, to re- 
 ceive your crown of wild flowers ? 
 
 VIRGINIA. {Crosses to Felham. Tony near Poe.) 
 What, this ? isn't it pretty ? I gathered these by the 
 path through the woods. Why, this crown goes to the 
 cavalier who would be the bravest if this were a verita 
 ble lion's den. Conae, gentlemen, tell me, what would 
 you do? (C.) 
 
 TONY. I reckon I'd ask the lion to take a little 
 something. 
 
 POE. {Crosses to L. corner.) 1 reckon I'd take to ray 
 heels pretty lively. {General laugh.) 
 
 VIRGINIA. And you, Mr. Pelham? 
 
 PELHAM. Oh, Miss Virginia, I wish the test were 
 here, that you might know where sits the truest heart 
 and bravest hand. I would flght until the ruby drops — 
 
 VIRGINIA. Oh, Mr. Pelham ! Your valor would 
 ooze out before the ruby drops, I fear, and yoa would 
 take to your heels before Tony could extend his invita- 
 tion or Edgar scale the fence. No, Truth is its own re- 
 ward. Edgar is the victor. 
 
13 
 
 POE. But, you forget, mine would have been a run- 
 ning fight. 
 
 VIRGrlNIA. Discretion is the better part of valor. 
 
 POE. {Crosses to her ; kneels. Tony down L.) I 
 bend the knee, fair queen. 
 
 VIRGINIA. I crown thee, Edgar, my champion pro- 
 tector, Knight of my Heart. {Crowns Poe with wreath 
 of flowers.) 
 
 POE. I kiss thy hand, sweet sovereign. {Playfully 
 kisses her hand repeatedly.) 
 
 VIRGINIA. That will do. Arise, sir knight ! 
 
 POE. {Crosses to Pelham R., Virginia to Tony L.) 
 How like you my coronation, Brother Pelham ? Was 
 ever prince more nobly crowned ? 
 
 PELHAM. I have no leisure for this child's play, 
 Mr. Poe. Good evening. {Exits into house.) 
 
 TONY. The angel has shut one lion's mouth with a 
 bang. {General laugh.) 
 
 POE. Yes, you have vanquished one lion, Virginia, 
 and not with love. 
 
 TONY. Hello ! Only three of us left ? I cannot 
 stand this. I reckon I better go for your glove. Did 
 you not forget your fan ? That must be your kerchief 
 down the path. Don't you understand? Where are 
 your wits ? Send me for your salts, a glass of water — 
 anything ! 
 
 VIRGINIA. Oh, you horrid fellow. 
 
 TONY. For staying so long? Hello, there goes my 
 horse ! I must after him. You are so sorry he got 
 away. Yes ; oh, yes ; I know ! Whoa, Charger ; whoa 
 there, whoa ! {Exit, running and laughing, L. 2 E.) 
 
 POE. He is a merry boy. Quick, one kiss, Virginia. 
 
 VIRGIN I A . ( Taking crown from Poe and crossing 
 R.) No ; no more kisses. 
 
14 
 
 POE. Refuse me a kiss, one kiss, a paltry kiss ! 
 What, a niggard of a kiss ! The zephyrs playing in your 
 glossy curls rob you of them every day you live, as they 
 lovingly pass by, and you never say them "Nay"; 
 the sunbeams wrest them from your lips to feed the 
 daisies with ; they are silvered by the moonbeams on a 
 summer's night; the joyous song, bursting into bloom 
 between these love-lips, breathes millions of kisses into 
 life. Why, worse than the horder of the mountains' 
 gold, or the grey-beard tottering to a lonely grave, 
 clutching as some drowning man the jewels of a selfish 
 life, is the miser of a kiss. 
 
 VIRGINIA. I think I will keep my kisses for all that. 
 Your philosophy may suit some other girl who does not 
 know you. {Sits R.) 
 
 POE. Sweet Virginia, what is a kiss to you or me, if 
 kept ? It has no being. 'Tis useless to the owner's lips ; 
 while a fair exchange makes both more rich by the 
 barter of such merchandise. 
 
 VIRGINIA. Oh, my kisses are not rich unless ex- 
 changed for yours? A man's conceit. 
 
 POE. No, I do not mean . {Going L.) Well, keep 
 
 them. I can live without them. 
 
 VIRGINIA. {Rises and follows). Indeed ! How 
 long ? 
 
 POE. A second ! {He attempts to kiss her ; site 
 laughingly crosses to bench). Virginia, we are wasting 
 time. They will all be back and then I must wait until 
 the moon is up. 
 
 VIRGINIA. {Sits L.) The moon. {Laughs.) Oh, she 
 is a formidable rival. 
 
 POE. How so? 
 
 VIRGINIA. Why, is not the Queen of Night the 
 mistress of all poets? t hope it was she who claimed 
 you last night. 
 
15 
 
 POE, No, truth to tell, no spirit-body claimed me 
 last night. I was with Tony. 
 
 VIIiGINIA. With Tony ? And you are sure no 
 spirits — 
 
 POE. Virginia, you must learn not to ask such fool- 
 ish questions. 
 
 YIRGrlNIA. How did you spend the evening ? Come, 
 confess. 
 
 POE. Telling fortunes. 
 
 VIRGINIA. With cards? 
 • POE. Nay, love, reading your fortune, my fortune, 
 in the stars. 
 
 VIRGINIA. Pm sorry. {Sighs.) 
 
 POE. Why? {Sits hy her.) 
 
 VIRGINIA. That 'tis not starlight now that you 
 might read my fortune. 
 
 POE. Stars are not necessary ; for 
 
 " The brightness of her cheek would shame those 
 
 stars 
 " As daylight doth a lamp." 
 
 VIRGINIA. Begin, astrologer, begin. My fortune 
 was told but yesterday. I'll see if you confirm it. 
 
 POE. Who told it? 
 
 VIRGINIA. A gypsy. He was very handsome, too. 
 
 POE. No doubt. What did he tell ? 
 
 VIRGINIA. He mentioned a dark gallant who was 
 desperately in love with me, and another who was likely 
 to become a very dangerous rival. 
 
 POE. Perhaps he meant Pelham. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 Come, sit very still, {Rises and crosses back of her) 
 and I'll convince you that I am a prince of necromancy. 
 Do not be frightened as I cast the horoscope. ( Vir- 
 
16 
 
 ginia laughs.) Hush ! If you laugh, you will destroy 
 the spell. You see, I take my kerchief so : {Meas- 
 uring.) 
 
 From eye to chin 
 It is too thin ; 
 From eye to ear, 
 Much I fear ; 
 Beneath the eyes, 
 The prize all lies. 
 
 {Poe covers her eyes loith his handkerchief in meas- 
 uring and quickly kisses her. Tony enters L. °2 E. 
 Virginia rises., confused ; crosses R. Poe R. C.) 
 
 TONY. Whoa, there, whoa ! I reckon I caught my 
 horse too soon. I came back to say good-bye. I 
 really must go this time. Mother does not know I'm 
 out. 
 
 POE. What is your hurry, Tony ? Oh, you need not 
 fear. There is nothing more to see. — Is there, Virginia ? 
 Ha, ha, ha ! You are not de trop, Tonj^ — Is he 
 Virginia ? 
 
 VIRGINIA. [Crosses up C. to be/ich.) Tony de 
 trop ? Of course not. I wish he had come sooner. 
 
 TONY. Oh, no. I am not de trop. It is the 
 lovers who are always de trop in this world. That 
 is the reason they leave the earth for little pilgrimages 
 among the clouds. 
 
 VIRtrlNIA. {Playfully hitting him. ) Hard-hearted 
 scoffer ! {Grosses to L.). 
 
 POE. I must buy your silence if it takes tlie Gover- 
 nor's last drop. Here, fill a stirrup-cup ! 
 
 TONY. {Crossing to table R. C. Virginia sits L.) 
 Don't force me or I shall have to yield. None of our 
 family ever could say "No," — but that's a digression. 
 Fill, fill ! Here's to my sweetheart ! 
 
 POE and VIRGINIA. Your sweetheart, Tony ! 
 
17 
 
 TONY. Have you not heard? I thought everyone 
 knew that. 
 
 POE and VIRGIISIA. Who is she, Tony ? 
 
 TONY. Merry Whiskey! {Takes up bottle. General 
 laugh.) There's a figure for you ! {Talks to dotUe lov- 
 ingly.) Show me a. more swan-like neck or a sweeter 
 pucker to the lips. We have our lovers' quarrels, too ; 
 but they are short. Father objects to our union. 8uh 
 rosa, he's in love with her himself. Oh, Merry, you 
 are the dearest love a man ever had, so soothing, so con- 
 fiding, so demonstrative. I am never so happy as when 
 we are together. Sweet one, you inspire me with new 
 life and hope. My veins leap for joy at your approach. 
 I swear Merry Whiskey shall never know so true a 
 lover as Tony Preston ! ( Tony and Poe shake hands 
 as they sing., near table., Tom Mooters ^''Drinking 
 8ong^\ Air — ''' Paddy Snap'' \ Yirglnia applauds 
 heartily. ) 
 
 " Quick ! We have but a second, 
 Fill round the cup, while you may ; 
 For Time, the churl, hath beckon' d. 
 And we must away, away! 
 Grasp the pleasure that's flying, 
 For Oh, not Orpheus' strain 
 Could keep sweet hours from dying, 
 Or charm them to life again. 
 Then, quick ! we have but a second. 
 Fill round the cup, while you may ; 
 For Time, the churl, hath beckon' d 
 And we must away, away ! 
 
 " See the glass, how it flushes. 
 Like some young Hebe's lip ; 
 And half meets thine and blushes 
 That thou shouldst delay to sip. 
 Shame, oh shame unto thee, 
 If ever thou seest that day. 
 When a cup or lip shall woo thee, 
 
18 
 
 And turn untouched away ! 
 Then quick ! we have but a second, 
 Fill round, fill round, while you may ; 
 For Time, the churl, hath beckon' d, 
 And we must away, away !" 
 
 ALLAN". {Outside.) No, no, no ! 
 
 PELHAM. {Outside.) Do not be too hard, Mr. Allan. 
 I may have been mistaken, sir. 
 
 ALLAN. {Enters from house, followed by PeUtam. 
 As they o.ppear, Tony goes down hack of bench L. Poe 
 down L. C. Virginia seated.) No, no, no! Don't 
 excuse him, sir. In everything, he has opposed my 
 will. 
 
 POE. Ah, father, come to join our revel ? 
 
 ALLAN. You scamp! {Virginia rises.) You have 
 had your last revel here. ( Virginia makes a movement 
 towards Allan. Poe stops her. ) 
 
 POE. Father, Cousin Virginia is i)resent. Let us 
 settle any misunderstanding some time when we are 
 alone. 
 
 ALLAN. The world may witness my final resolution, 
 sir. {Enter Mrs. Allan, who advances to rocking chair 
 R.) 1 have endured your prodigalities as long as I can. 
 You must leave this place at once. I disinherit you. 
 {Takes R. corner. Virginia crosses to Mrs. Allan. 
 Enter Erebus L. C; remains up L.) 
 
 MRS. ALLAN. John, what are you saying? {Vir- 
 ginia kneels by her.) 
 
 POE. Do you mean this, father ? 
 
 ALLAN. {Crossing back to C.) Father me no more. 
 I was your benefactor, your father, until you so often 
 proved unworthy of my love. I gave you everything, 
 even to my name. Read this, sir, read this. {Banding 
 Poe letter. ) 
 
19 
 
 POE. {Reading:) A bill for $1,600 ! Well, I ac- 
 knowledft-e it. At least, I never hide my faults. 
 
 ALLAN. Oh, 'tis not merely this ; 'tis everything 
 combined. You oppose my will ; you upset the rules 
 of my house ; you cross me in everything ; the high 
 aspirations I had for yoa, you have blighted ; you spend 
 your hours with dissolute companions 
 
 POE. Father! 
 
 MRS. ALLAN. John ! {Rises. Virginia rises and 
 crosses to R. of Mrs. Allan. ) 
 
 ALLAN. {Grossing to L.) You will drive me mad. 
 {Turns upon Foe.) You must go, sir; do you hear? 
 Collect your traps, everything that belongs to you. 
 Not another day shall you spend beneath my roof. 
 Here is some money for a new start, and Grod go with 
 you. 
 
 POE. {Refuses purse.) No, Mr. Allan ! I could ac- 
 cept kindness from you as a son, but as a stranger 
 never. You bid me leave the only home 1 have ever 
 kaown, the only father I remember. It is well. I would 
 be loo ungrateful not to obey your wish. I will not say 
 your command. Nor will I attempt to justify myself, 
 sir, further than to say that I believe you do me wrong. 
 You brought me up a child of luxury ; wine flowed in 
 fountains at your table ; I was not taught what money 
 meant ; my associates were gay, and you laughed at my 
 boyish follies. I have done wrong, sir, very wrong ; but 
 am I all to blame? {Allan, sits L.) Give me your 
 hand, sir. You will not deny me that. {Allan half 
 gives Jiand. Face averted.) A good-bye for you and 
 the sweer one who took my mother's place. {^Embraces 
 Mrs. Allan.) 
 
 MRS. ALLAN. Edgar! 
 
 POE. Mother ! Heaven bless you both, and grant 
 
20 
 
 that you may live to know that the little orphan boy 
 you gave a home has a memory and a heart. I go alone 
 
 into the vporld {Takes liat and cloak and starts 
 
 up O.) 
 
 EREBUS. {Softly.) Not alon', Mars' Edgah ! 
 {Kneels to Foe.') 
 
 VIRGINIA. {Grossing to Mm.) No, Edgar, not 
 alone ! 
 
 ALL. Virginia ! 
 
 POE, Reflect ! I am an outcast ! 
 
 VIRGINIA. And I love you. {They eiribrace.) 
 
 POE. Then, come, sweet girl, we will build a home 
 for ourselves. 
 
 (curtain.) 
 
21 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene : Sitting room in Foe's cottage, Fordham. N 
 Y. Door L. C. to street ; R. '2 and L. 3 to other 
 rooms. Sm^all stove and, wood box np R. Table G. 
 Very plain interior " laid loith checked matting, 
 a light stand witli presentation volumes of the Brown- 
 ings on it, some other sheloes with a few other books 
 arranged on them, and four chairs.'''' One or two small 
 house plants., a bird in a cage, a cot, L. C, and an old 
 military cloak hanging against the wall. Snow scene 
 through window R. C. Virginia discovered at loindow 
 poorly clad. Curtain music, ^"Home Sweet Home^\ 
 Lights up. 
 
 Some Years After Act I. 
 
 VIRGINIA. {Looking off R. Coughs.) Even the 
 dear old cherry tree looks hungry and forlorn in its 
 garb of ice and snow. Will the sun ever warm its 
 heart again and the robins sing in its branches, and 
 Edgar and I sit beneatli its shade and dream the hours 
 away in happiness ? The spring seems so far off. {Enter 
 Mrs. Clemnc. L.) Hush, mother ; you will disturb 
 Edgar. 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. A good morning to my daugliter. I 
 did not know that yon were up. {Kisses her.) And 
 how is Eddie ? 
 
 VIRGINIA. {Crosses to door L. U. E. Mrs. Clemm 
 puts shawl on chair L. Slips roll of MSS. ontable R., 
 unobserved by Virginia. Comes down R. C.) He has 
 been working all night and he acts so wild and strange 
 it frightens me. Once or twice I stole into the room, 
 but he would only stare at me wiih liis deep, sad eyes, 
 run his hands wildly through his hair and plunge again 
 
22 
 
 into Ills work. It breaks my heart, mother dear. 
 {Going to Mrs. Glemm.) 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. Poor Eddie ! The darkest cloud has 
 a silver lining, child. You must be brave. 
 
 VIRGINIA. I try to look happy and laugh when the 
 road is roughest, mother. Edgar's pen runs night and 
 day and you know how meagre the reward. {Crosses 
 R. Sits.) What have we left for dinner ? 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. {At cup board L. 1.) Scarcely enough 
 for one. 
 
 VIRGINIA. Do not tell Edgar. He has so much to 
 bear. And the fire ? {Erebus passes windoio. ) 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. Here is Erebus now with an arm full. 
 
 EREBUS. {Entering L. G. with armful of small 
 twigs and sticks.) Don' yo' worry, Miss Virginiah. 
 We'll soon hab a fire — boo ! {Throwing down sticks.) 
 I don' likedis yarNew York State fo' notliin'. Gib me 
 ole Virginiah 1 
 
 NYRQINIA. {Smiling.) Why, Erebus? 
 
 EREBUS. Fo' de Lord, honey, it pears like up yah 
 dars nine months ob winter and free months ob damn 
 late fall. 
 
 VIRGINIA. Erebus— What are you saying? 
 
 EREBUS. Pardon, Miss Virginiah, dat 'flection jes' 
 slip out. {Exit L. O.) 
 
 VIRGINIA. {Trying to laugh ; to Mrs. Clemm, who 
 is momny sticks. ) Save those to cook his dinner, but 
 do not let him know. I am not very cold, 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. You angel ! 
 
 VIRGINIA. Oh, why will the world slander Edgar, 
 mother? We know and love him. We are right. 
 {Coughs.) 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. You are not well, Virginia. A little 
 
23 
 
 patience. {She helps Virginia to chair, and sits beside 
 her. ) 
 
 VIRGINIA. I am patient for myself, but Edgar ! 
 He is so proud, noble, ambitious : and the wordly 
 struggle, the insults and mockeries of common natures 
 afflict him deeply. 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. The world is slow to recognize a 
 genius ; but, when his words are known to his country's 
 lire side lore, imprinted in the people's hearts, nothing 
 can shake them. We should be proud of Edgar, truly. 
 {Music.') 
 
 VIRGrlNIA. I am proud of Edgar, mother, proud of 
 his great gifts. {Enter Foe L. U. E. with quill pen 
 over ear, and long MS. rolled up in his hand.) It 
 shows that he is loved of God ; but I did not know, 
 when I threw myself into his arms that day in Rich- 
 mond to meet the great world hand in hand, how tlie 
 struggle would be all for him and what a burden I 
 would be. 
 
 POE. {Coming down L. to Virginia.) And what a 
 blessing. 
 
 VIRGINIA. Oh, Edgar, how you frightened me. 
 
 POE. {Cheerfully.) Come, what are these long faces 
 for ? Poor child, these lips were made for smiles and 
 kisses. 
 
 VIRGINIA. Oh, Edgar, even your jest is sickly. It 
 is you who have the pale and careworn face. Has he 
 not, mother ? 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. {Crosses to chair R. corner, takes 
 needlework from mantlepiece and busies herself.) It's 
 those old goose quills. 
 
 POE. {Crossing, places MS. on table R.) Hush, 
 Mother Clemm, that's sacrilage. The world's best wis- 
 dom has run off a goose quill ! Have faith, muddy 
 
24 
 
 dear ; "The Stilus", aye, my magazine, "The Stilus", 
 will make us nabobs yet. 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. " The Stilus " ! I believe more in the 
 hoe. You work too hard the wrong way, my son. 
 
 POE. Work too hard ! No ; though I admit were I 
 the builder of a world it is an element I would omit 
 most cheerfully. 
 
 VIRGINIA. {Rists and crosses to Poe.) We might 
 be worse. 
 
 POE. Hardly. Is this the casket for such a jewel ? 
 You, Virginia, should have a palace, {He helps Virginia 
 to chair L. of table) and you, dear mother, should have 
 a farm, the best that wealth can buy. Perhaps, well, 
 perhaps, I may yet find the rainbow's end and stumble 
 on my pot of gold. 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. Few get their deserts here, my boy. 
 
 POE. {Pointing down.) True, most of us get them 
 hereafter. 
 
 VIRGINIA. It seems wrong that some men like our 
 churlish neighbor down the road should have so much 
 more than he can use and we so little. 
 
 POE. {Leading her to conch.) There, there, my 
 pretty, jealous little wife. Nature has her compensa- 
 tions ; she divides her stores. 
 
 VIRGINIA. {Sits on couch; complainingJy.) He 
 is so rich. 
 
 POE. Rich ! Yes, he has vulgar wealth, a civilized 
 barbarian. His name draws the bolts of iron vaults and 
 back swing the mighty doors ; huge jewels light his 
 path by night and make the sun ashamed by day ; a 
 retinue of men stand at his beck and call ; his carriage 
 waits, and on his walls of tapestry hang pictures which 
 fashion tells him to admire ! But; oh, my love, my 
 
25 
 
 name upon the check book of my dreamhmd bank draws 
 forth a wealth this world has never seen, a mighty haze 
 of glory, cloud palaces and seraphim to wait on me, 
 rivers of fire and the murky shores of Death, fiends, 
 goblins, ghastly haunted ruins, — all men. — all things, 
 jumbled in one black trembling chaos ! Skulls with 
 hollow eyes— 
 
 VIRGINIA. Edgar, Edgar, stop ! You frighten me ! 
 
 POE. {Laughing with forced gay ety.) And will not 
 Virginia join me in my fancy's palace? 'Tis the only 
 one that I can build. 
 
 A^IRGINIA. Love in a cottage would be more to my 
 taste, my dear. 
 
 POE. {Looking around^ half bitterly.) Well, we 
 have it here. 
 
 VIRGINIA. {Crosses to Poe C.) It is all my fault 
 you have so much to bear. 
 
 POE. {Emhracing her.) Why, Virginia, I had not 
 realized half of life until I knew thee. Oh, what a reve- 
 lation ! I, who swaggered with the youthful boast that 
 I had tasted every cup, had not tasted one ! Love, the 
 soul's guardian of perfect joy, I had not known. 
 
 VIRGINIA. Then you never loved before i 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. Stupid girl ! Have 1 not told you a 
 thousand times, never let your husband know that you 
 are jealous ! And, above all, never let him know that 
 you love him too well. It ruins men. If wives would 
 only reverse things a little, they would get more love. 
 {^Poe leads Virginia to couch.) 
 
 POE. {Crossing to table B.) Here is mutiny in 
 camp ! Ha, ha, ha i Muddy dear has joined the enemy, 
 {To Virginia.) Where are my " Stilus" letters, dear, 
 and the prospectus? Have you seen them ? 
 
26 
 
 yiRGrlNIA. I have them pat away. No, let me get 
 them. I can do so little. {Poe smiles and humors her. 
 She exits to room above.) 
 
 POE. {Sees rejected manuscript on table wliicli Mrs. 
 Clemm has placed tJtere.) You played truant yester- 
 day, Muddy. You were in town to sell my verses ? 
 (^She nods.) I would not have let you gone through the 
 storm had I known it. {Smiling sadly.) You trudged 
 the rounds and they all said " No " ? {She nods. ) Dear 
 Muddy. {Kisses her fondly.) Do not let Virginia 
 know. Erebus — 
 
 EREBUS. {Enters with arms full of wood, some 
 split.) Don' worry, marsa. I'll soon hab a little fire I'o' 
 Miss Yirginiah. Boo ! Dis yah New York State ! 
 
 POE. {Looking at him critically.) Where did you 
 get the sticks, Erebus ? 
 
 EREBUS. {Eoasively.) I'll soon hab a little fire dat 
 will warm yo' heart. Mars' Edgah. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 POE. There is no wood left on our place, Erebus. 
 
 EREBUS. Ain't dar ? Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 POE. You know right well there is not. Answer me. 
 Where did you get the wood ? 
 EREBUS. I don' track it in de snow, Marsa. 
 POE. {Amused.) Tracked it in the snow ! Where ? 
 
 EREBUS. {A little anxiously.) Dat's 'tween de 
 Lord an' me, Marsa. 
 POE. {Sharply.) Erebus I 
 
 EREBUS. Yo' wouldn't 'spec' Erebus, would yo', 
 Marsa, long as yo'se knowed him ? 
 
 POE. I'd only suspect you of too good a heart 
 under your black skin, Erebus. {Rolls out MS. many 
 feet in lengtli. Aside., reflect ioely.) I've had some 
 days m3'self when I thought most anything was honest. 
 
27 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. {Looking up. Erebus fixes small fire.') 
 What have you there ? 
 
 POB. {Arranging MS. at table R.) A few yards of 
 my brains that go to the highest bidder. My stomach 
 aspires to be the auctioneer. Jack Frost seems the only 
 reliable patron of the poets. {Sleigh bells heard off M. 
 gently., then gradually increase.) 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. Are you going now ? 
 
 POE. Yes, to town to fight the publishers, the 
 rhymsters' delight. 
 
 EREBUS. {Rising.) Let me go fo' yo', Marsa. 
 
 POE. Not to day, Erebus. I don't want you to track 
 anything more in the snow. 
 
 EREBUS. 'Deed I'se hones', Marsa. 
 
 POE. Of course, we're all honest — even poets. 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. {To Poe.) Let me go, Edgar. You 
 stay here and write and look after her. 
 
 POE. {Aside to Mrs. Clemm.) I can look after her 
 better, I hope, by going, and the trip is too hard for 
 you. Someone is passing. I must hurry and steal a 
 ride or trudge knee-deep in snow, and my sole has 
 scarce the fortitude for that. {Stop bells. Music.) 
 Hello ! He is stopping. He is coming in. Ah ! \En,- 
 ter Tony, in big fur cloak carrying driving whip. He 
 is covered with snow., which also blows in as the door 
 opens.) Tony Pre.ston, as I live ! Well, this is a sur- 
 prise. Come right in and— get warm. Tony! Tony! 
 
 TONY. {Embracing Poe.) Edgar! And Muddy! 
 Well ! Well ! {Embracing her. Comedy bcsiness.) 
 Ha ! Ha ! And Erebus too ! Black as ever ! 
 
 POE. But how in the world did you find us, Tony ? 
 
 TONY. I stopped at the house of a friend a short dis- 
 tance down the road and picked up two youngsters who 
 
28 
 
 said they would show me the King's Bridg-e road. 
 Much good they did me. 
 
 POE, {LaugJiiiig.) Where are your youngsters ? 
 
 TONY. I don't know. 
 
 BOTH. Don't know! 
 
 TONY. They ought to be in the sleigh. They started 
 with me, that's all I know. 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. {Running to window.) They must be 
 cold. 
 
 TONY. Not they ! They don't know its snowing. 
 They are in love ! 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. {At loindow.) Why, I can't see a 
 thing in the sleigh but a big robe. 
 
 POE. Did you expect to ? Erebus, tie the horses and 
 send them in, 
 
 EREBUS. Yes, Marsa. {Exit L. O.) 
 
 POE. {Going to door and calling.) Virginia, Yir- 
 ginia, come quick. Here is Tony ! 
 
 VIRGINIA. {Entering, papers relating to the 
 " Stilus " in lier hand.) Tony ! Oh, but it's good to 
 see you ! {She kisses him ; Poe pretends annoyance.) 
 Our old friend Tony ! 
 
 TONY. {Laughing.) I beg your pardon. Some 
 years have passed, but still your young friend Tony. 
 But that's a digression ! Quite a family re-union, eh, 
 
 Virginia {SJie coughs.) What are you doing? 
 
 Playing sick? For shame! And Mrs. Cleram, — 
 {Crosses to her and attempts to embrace her again. 
 Gomed.y business.) How's Muddy, eh ? Looking the 
 brightest an youngest of them all in spite of that 
 dyspepsia ! I have come just in time to help you run 
 the hospital. 
 
 POE. {Brushing snow from door where it had blown 
 
29 
 
 in.) You will be a tit subject for a hospital yourself if 
 you don't restrain your arms and kisses in my family. 
 
 VIRGrlNIA. {Laughing.) What a doctor you would 
 make, Tony. Why, T begin to feel better already. 
 
 POE. His father intended him for a doctor, but some 
 how he never got his diploma. 
 
 VIRGINIA. Never mind. I will give you a certiti- 
 cate of good professional standing, for the sight of you 
 has helped me more than all the medicine I have taken 
 for weeks. {The door L. C. opens aud Erebus ushers 
 in Carroll Brent and Marjary, looking oery sheepish. 
 Their hair is considerably mussed.) 
 
 TONY. Oh, here are my guides ! This is Mr. Car- 
 roll Brent of Baltimore, who is visiting iny friend Miss 
 Byrd, and this, — {Indicating Marjary, slyly) as I 
 understand it, — is Mr. Brent's friend, — Miss Marjary — 
 hem 
 
 CARROLL. A neighbor — a recently arrived neighbor. 
 
 TONY. {Winking t» Foe.) Yes, a neighbor — a very 
 near neighbor. 
 
 POE. {Greeting them.') We are glad to know you and 
 thank you for showing Mr. Preston the way. 
 
 MARJARY. {With a languishing look at Curroll.) 
 You must thank Mr. Brent. I am a newcomer too and 
 don't know the roads hereabout, but Mr. Brent knows 
 everything. 
 
 VIRGrlNIA. {Smiling.) How fortunate for you. 
 
 MARJARY. {Dropping her eyes.) lama fortunate 
 girl. 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. {Leading them near the stove lohere 
 there is a very small fire.) I fear you are cold. 
 
 MARJARY. {Scarcely able to keep her eyes off Car- 
 
30 
 
 roll during the wliole visit and vice versa.) Oh, not in 
 the least. 
 
 CARROLL. Oh, not a bit cold. 
 
 TONY. Oh, not a bit cold, I am sure. They sat to- 
 gether on the back seat. 
 
 BOTH. {Indignant.) Oh, Mr. Preston. 
 
 POE. {To Tony.) And you and Merry Whiskey 
 drove? {Generallaugh.) 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. Here are some chairs. {She places 
 two straight-back chairs near the fire. Carroll and 
 Marjary sit in. a stiff and awkward, manner close to- 
 gether, and Mrs, Clemm tries to entertain them, hut 
 soon finds it hopeless.) 
 
 POE. {Coming down L. C. Tony R. C.) It is good to 
 see you again, old fellow. It sends us back to the days 
 when bouyant youth sent hope coursing through our 
 veins. Come, throw off your cloak and stay a while. 
 Courtesy is blind with joy. 
 
 TONY. {Eoasively.) Thank you, I will keep it on. I 
 am a little chilly from riding, if my friends are not. It 
 is bitter out to-day. 
 
 POE. I forgot. You will be more comfortable with 
 it on. 
 
 TONY. {Aside to Poe.) Edgar, let me speak plainly 
 to you. Why did you not let me know that you were 
 in trouble, — I must say it, — in want? I would have 
 come at once ; you know it. 
 
 POE. {Proudly.) There is nothing that I need. ( Vir- 
 ginia coughs.) , 
 
 TONY. And is there nothing that she needs ? Ah, 
 dear friend, this is not the time for pride. Bad luck ! 
 The cards have been against yoii. You must let me 
 help you, Edgar; and, when the game is yours, why 
 you can repay the bank. Willis' words in the "Home 
 
31 
 
 Journal " about your suffering have brought me post- 
 haste from Richmond. 
 
 POE. They were false. He is 
 
 TONY. Your friend. 
 
 POE. {Controlling himself with di^culty.) You are 
 right, Tony ! You are riglit. For her sake, yes. But 
 one more chance. 1 will go to the city with you and 
 try to coin this last expenditure of a weary brain. {In- 
 dicating MS.) If I fail, you may help — Virginia ; and 
 God will bless you for it. I have sometimes thought I 
 had no friends. 
 
 TONY. When foolish pride shuts the door upon 
 them. 
 
 VIRGINIA. {Sitting on couch L.) What are you 
 talking about over there? You are not a bit polite. 
 We have visitors. 
 
 TONY. Hem. Yes. {Glancing at Carroll and Mar- 
 jnry, crossing to Virginia.) The doctors are holding 
 a consultation, Virginia. 
 
 VIRGINIA. Nonsense ! Last night I dreamed I 
 would live a hundred years. Shall I not, mother ? 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. I hope so, child. 
 
 TONY. Here, let me feel your "pult." as old Doc. 
 Mixum down home used to say. {Poe crosses back of 
 sofa ; kneels hy Virginia, who half reclines.) 
 
 VIRGINIA. {To Tony.) Ha, ha, ha ! Yoa cannot 
 find it. You are a remarkable doctor. 
 
 TONY. Well, T can hold your hand and prescribe. 
 
 POE. I like that. 
 
 VIRGINIA. So do I. You must promise not to give 
 me bad medicine. 
 
 TON Y. Bad medicine k Wait until you taste it. I 
 begin to feel ill myself when I think of it. Do not 
 fear, I will join you, dose for dose. 
 
32 
 
 FOE. Then you propose a liquid diet. 
 VIRGINIA. What is it, Tony, come ? 
 
 TONY. {Yery gravely.) I prescribe— a big re-union 
 ' dinner, well cooked, slowly eaten and— to use the homely 
 but expressive phrase -well washed down. 
 VIRGINIA. You have not changed a bit, Tony. 
 
 TONY. Changed ! You can't improve us angels, 
 Virginia. But that's another digression. I'm on earth 
 to teach you mortals how to cook. {Crossing to Mrs. 
 Clerum, pointedly.) 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. That's the first time I ever heard of 
 an angel cook; and, as for men, I never saw the man 
 yet who could cook. Mr. Clemm, Heaven rest his soul, 
 thought he could, but — ugh ! {Shudders. All laugh.) 
 
 VIRGlr^IA. A big dinner would kill me. I cannot 
 eat. 
 
 TONY. {E. C.) Yes, but you must. That is what I 
 prescribe to all my patients, with a good drink to top 
 it off. It cures ttiera all. Edgar and I will go to the 
 city and bring back the dinner, and cook it too. 
 {Pointedly again to Mrs. Glemm, who again shudders.) 
 
 POE. {Grosses to Tony.) I'm with you, Tony. It; 
 shall be seasoned with jokes and spiced with jests and 
 liquified with laughter. Why, this is glorious, Tony. 
 This is a lark for our Richmond days. Virginia and 
 Muddy shall join us in our revel. It shall be a Bacchan- 
 alian feast. We will set up " Little Love " as the God 
 of Joy, and he shall pour the wine ; and for one short 
 hour time shall be as nothing. 
 
 TONY. Virginia and Muddy shall eat, eat, eat, noth- 
 ing but eat. Oh, it will cure you. {Crossing to Vir- 
 ginia.) 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. Or kill her. 
 
33 
 
 POE. {Crossing to Mrs. Glemm.) Mother is skeptical 
 about yonr cooking. 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. I should think I was. Unless Tony 
 has changed materially, he mixes his dinners better than 
 he cooks them. 
 
 TON Y. Well, sometimes I do drink more than I drink 
 other times— 
 
 POE. But never less. {General laugh.) 
 
 VIRGINIA. Don't you ever suffer from remorse, 
 Tony ? 
 
 POE. Remorse is born of a bad stomach, not a good 
 conscience. Tony is safe both ways. 
 
 TONY. Why, one of my dinners cures everything. 
 It cures 
 
 POE. {Tnterrtipting him.) Peace, peace, peace! Keep 
 its remaining virtues till after we have dined. {Goes 
 up ; gets cloak from peg R.) 
 
 TONY. Very well ; you shall be the judge. Oh-re-vo, 
 as the French say. Keep a brave heart, and, mother 
 Clemm, we will cure that dyspepsia, as sure as — - 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. Go along with you. {Tony laughs; 
 goes up to door L. C.) 
 
 POE. We will not bo long behind one of Tony's 
 horses, if he does not tip us out in the snow. 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. The devil looks after his own. 
 
 VIRGINIA. It is cruel to drive your horses so fast, 
 Tony. 
 
 TONY, Cruel ! I drive them fast in winter to keep 
 them warm. Is not that kind ? 
 
 POE. And you drive them fast in summer to keep 
 them cool. 
 
 TONY. Isn't that thoughtful, too? I am the best 
 whip this side of the Rockies. Hurry, Edgar ; we must 
 
34 
 
 be off. {Starts to go ; sees Carroll and Marjary.) Oh, 
 I am forgetting something. Hem ! I am ready. ( TJiey 
 are so absorbed in eacJi other they do not hear.) I am 
 ready ! Mr. Brent, Miss Marjary ! 
 
 BOTH. {Staging up.) Oh ! {They start to go.) 
 
 VIRGINIA. We are glad you called. 
 
 BOTH. Thanks ! We have enjoyed our visit. 
 
 CARROLL. {At door.) The front seat or the back 
 seat ? 
 
 TONY {Seriously.) The back seat, please. 
 
 BOTH. Oh, yes. {Exeunt Carroll and Marjary. 
 General laughter.) 
 
 TONY. 
 
 Ten thousand hearts are beating 
 By the wild and boisterous sea ; 
 
 Ten thousand hearts are beating. 
 But not one heart for me ! 
 
 Oh, I must tell yon before we go. What do you 
 think ! I saw Pelham at the Astor House. 
 
 POE. {Getting hat.) Mr. Roscoe Pelham, A. M., of 
 Virginia ? 
 
 TONY. Even he. 
 
 VIRGINIA. {Pretending interest.) My old admirer! 
 I had almost forgotten him. 
 
 POE. {Pretending jealousy.) I have not forgotten 
 him. He always had that benign look of one who con- 
 tinually smells something disagreeable. 
 
 TONY. Yes, one of those lovable men who hates you 
 if you don't hate everyone whom he hates. Boo ! Pel- 
 ham would freeze the ocean in mid-summer. He never 
 liked me much. 
 
 POE. And you never liked him much. 
 
 TONY. No, my dog wouMn't make friends with him. 
 
35 
 
 Never trust a man your dog does not like. Some aunt 
 left him a little money, they say, with which he has 
 become quite a politician in Baltimore. You should 
 have seen him to-day. His waistcoat was a marvel of 
 elegance, his stock superb ; and he walked the office 
 with an important air, his eyes fixed up there some- 
 where on vacancy. {Foe. and Tony near door^ L. C. 
 Looking at Virginia.) We'll bring him back with us. 
 
 VIRGINIA. Yes, do. 
 
 POE. If he comes, I will cook bis dinner. {General 
 laugh. Poe takes the old military cloak from ;p eg.) 
 
 TONY. Put on your cloak and wrap up warm. It's 
 freezing out. Here, let me help you. 
 
 POE. Hush ! ( Wraps cloak about Yirgiuia on couch, 
 instead of putting it on.) Good-bye, sweetheart, good- 
 bye. 
 
 VIRGINIA. You must take your cloak. Edgar. 
 
 POE. {Eoasively.) I do not need it. 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. {Rises, and goes up to window.) 
 Yes, you must, Eddie. 
 
 POE. Tony has one for me in the sleigh. (Tony is 
 about to speak; Poe gioes him a look ; C.) Hush! 
 Keep your heart warm, sweet girl. {Music. Aside to 
 Tony at door.) Why am I haunted with these dark 
 presentiments ? Is it not enough that I suffer once, 
 without living a life of fear and dread ? Ah, Tony, will 
 she leave me when the baby buds are laughing at flying 
 Winter, or fall like the autumn leaves, red as the even- 
 ing glow of promise? The Raven croaks! {To Vir- 
 ginia.) A little while, Virginia, only a little while. 
 {Kisses her. Exits after Tony L. C.) 
 
 MRS. CLEMM {At window). Well, that Tony is a 
 rascal. He has led Edgar into such scrapes. I reckon 
 they are all right, but I do not believe in these pranks 
 myself. 
 
36 
 
 * VIRGINIA. {Rising.) His heart is in the right place, 
 mother. {Sleigh bells.) 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. {At window.) There they go like the 
 wind. Hear the merry bells. Why, they are taking 
 Erebus. 
 
 VlRGrlNIA. To the village store no doubt for wood. 
 {Crosses to window.) Oh, how I wish I could snowball 
 them. {Sleigh bellsdie away.) 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. What are you doing here, child? 
 {Helps Virginia downto couch L.) You will never get 
 well. There is a terrible draught around this window. 
 You must lie down and try to keep warm until Edgar 
 returns. ( Virginia coughs oiolently .) There, you are 
 coughing again. What did I tell you ? {Goes to cup- 
 board.) And the cough mixture is gone. What shall I 
 do? Why didn't I think of it? {Runs to window.) 
 They are out of hearing. I will go to the store mj^selF. 
 It will not take long. 
 
 VIRGINIA. No, no. 
 
 MRS. CLEMM. I will be back in a few minutes. Will 
 you want anything, Virginia? 
 
 VIRGINIA. (A little ddirious.) No, mother. But it 
 is too bad for you to go. {Exit Mrs. (Jlemm.) She is 
 gone. Mother ! Mother ! Oh, how I dread to be left 
 alone — alone, even for a minute. I cannot- understand 
 it. They watch me so. I am not sick, — that is, not very 
 sick ; and then ray dream, was it not sweet ? I dreamed 
 that I would live a hundred years. How funny it will 
 be to see the world and all my friends grown old. To 
 see dear Edgar with white hair and brow chiselled with 
 wrinkles, and Muddy hunting for the spectacles she 
 says she will never wear. Ha, ha, ha ! But, would 
 they live a hundred years too ? No, no, I would be 
 alone ! The very thought is horrible. No, we shall all 
 
37 
 
 live a hundred years, all, all. How cold it is ! (A 
 JcnocJi. Music.) Why does she knock? Come in. 
 Muddy. 
 
 PELHAM. {Eidering door L. C.) This is what I call 
 a cold reception. So, this is the domicile of the great 
 poet, the father of rhymes, jingles and riddles. {Com- 
 ing down R.) I would rather sell cabbages and buy a 
 stove. Boo ! 
 
 VIRGINIA. Who's there? A stranger ! 
 
 PELHAM. Pardon the instrusion, but is this the 
 winter domicile of Mr. Edgar Allan Poe, the exalted 
 poet ? 
 
 VIRGINIA. This is Mr. Poe's home, sir, but he 
 is— Why, Mr. Pelham ! 
 
 PELHAM. {Starting.) Virginia Clemm ! 
 
 VIRGINIA. Virginia Poe. I have not seen you for 
 so long that I scarcely knew you. 
 
 PELHAM. {Advancing C.) Yes, separation has made 
 me what inclination never has, and never vpill— a 
 stranger. 
 
 VIRGINIA. That is kind. Draw up a chair. Excuse 
 my rising ; I nm uot quite myself to-day. 
 
 PELHAM. And this is the pretty bright-eyed laugh- 
 ing girl that married the handsomest man in Richmond 
 and sought her fortunes in the North, — envied by every 
 Southern beauty. 
 
 VIRGINIA. I married the dearest man in all the 
 world, Mr. Pelham. 
 
 PELHAM. Of course, the dearest — 
 VIRGINIA. {Uneasily.) Yoa find me changed ? 
 PELHAM. Not at all The same flush of health and 
 pride is in your cheek. Time and the Muses have been 
 good to you. Your husband's name is on the lips of 
 
.38 
 
 all the world. Yoii must be very happy — very liappy — 
 he is so good to you. 
 
 VIRGINIA. I am happy. {Nervously.) It is kind 
 of you to call. I hope you are well and prosperous. I 
 love to hear all our friends are so. You have moved to 
 Baltimore, I hear, and deserted Richmond, dear old 
 Richmond, where I first met Edgar. 
 
 PELHAM. And where you left so many friend^ to 
 mourn your loss, not to say envy your bright fortunes. 
 
 VIRGINIA. {Evading reply.) Many changes since 
 then. Mr. Allan has passed away. Alas, he never un- 
 derstood Edgar. 
 
 PELHAM. His second wife and little ones enjoy the 
 old home now. 
 
 VIRGINIA. They will never know how much until 
 they lose it. 
 
 PELHAM. I could buy the place myself these days. 
 You might have been mistress there had you not found 
 a better man. 
 
 VIRGINIA. {Rising.) Mr. Pelham ! 
 
 PELHAM. I prophesied his greatness. 
 
 VIRGINIA. {Anxiously.) I must call my husband. 
 He will be glad to see you. 
 
 PELHAM. {Putting chair aside.) Your husband, 
 passed me on the Kings Bridge road, but he did not 
 bow, no, he did not bow. 
 
 VIRGINIA. {Suspiciously.) He did not see you, 
 then. 
 
 PELHAM. I fear he has forgotten his old friends in 
 his days of prosperity. 
 
 VIRGINIA. He was never like that, Mr. Pelham. 
 
 PELHAM. I bought a volume of the poet's verse to- 
 day in town. I thought it would be a sign of respecta- 
 
.39 
 
 bility on my poor shelves and — and perhaps contribute 
 a trifle to— 
 
 VIRGINIA. Mr. Pelham- 
 
 PELHAM. Well, report led me to believe that the 
 purchase might not be ungratefully received ; but I am 
 glad to note that I can contribute nothing to your hap- 
 piness or comfort. 
 
 VIRGINIA. {Controlling Tier self with difficulty.) 
 Nothing. I thank you for your call. 
 
 PELHAM. It was a pleasure I could not forego. 
 VIRGINIA. {Standing xoith difficulty.) Good day, 
 Mr. Pelham. 
 
 PELHAM {Surprised, but covers it quickly.) Good 
 day — Miss— Mrs. Poe. {After a little effort he moves 
 toward door. Virginia coughs. He turns. She sways 
 as if to fall. He returns and takes her hand.) Ah, 
 Viiginia! Virginia! 
 
 VIRGINIA, {Coughs. Makes an effort to cross him., 
 hut sways backward. He supports her in his arms.) 
 No, no, you must iiot. Edgar ! Edgar ! 
 
 PELHAM. Save your strength. Let me help you. I 
 fear he will not come. 
 
 VIRGINIA. {Coughing violently.) He will! He 
 will ! Edgar ! Edgar ! {Enter Poe, Toni/, Mrs. Clemm 
 and Erebus. Pelham crosses to R. corner.) 
 
 POE. Ah, What was that cry ? My God ! Virginia ! 
 Pelham! What is the matter, love? {Catches Vir- 
 ginia in his arms.) 
 
 VIRGINIA. I knew you would come. I knew you 
 would come. 
 
 POE. 'Twas fate that broke the sleigh and sent us 
 back. {To Pelham.) What does this mean ? 
 
 PELHAM. {Suavely.) 1 called to pay my respects, 
 Mr. Poe, and found your wife in this sad state. 
 
40 
 
 POE. Speak, girl, what is it ? You are safe — dearest ! 
 
 VIRGINIA. {Coughing and subbing.) Oh, Edgar, 
 Edgar ! 
 
 POE. Poor child. Help me. Tony. Erebus ! Some 
 brandy — quick! {Tony produces Jiask. Music.) 
 
 VIRGINIA. Hush ! {Aside to Tony loho assists her 
 while Poe and Erebus prepare brandy.) If Edgar 
 learns the truth, he will fight, and, perhaps be killed. 
 No, no, no ! {Laughs hysterically.) It is all right, 
 Edgar, Mr. Pelham was only calling. I was faint and 
 he caught me — from falling. He has been very kind to 
 me. Saj^ it is all right. You will not blame Mr. Pelham, 
 will you ? 1 was wild and sick, but I am quite well now. 
 Oh, I am so glad you came. {Laughs.) We will have 
 such a merry time, a re-union dinner ! Tony shall sit 
 on one side of me and Edgar on the other. ( Tries to 
 rise.) Such a merry time as we will have. {Sings ;) 
 
 Then quick ! we have but a second, 
 Fill round the cup, while you may 
 For time, the churl hath beckoned 
 
 Oh! {Coughs violently, falls back on sofa, dead.) 
 
 POE. Virginia ! Lenore ! Speak to me. Ah, the 
 bolt has fallen — dead, dead, dead ! 
 
 (CURTAIK.) 
 
41 
 
 TABLEAU. 
 
 The Writing of " The Raven." - 
 Between Acts II and III. 
 
 Poe discovered icriting at old table C. Manuscripts 
 on table and floor. Lights on Poe. Dark surroundings. 
 The poet is writing fiercely at rise of curtain. He then 
 gathers up his manuscript and reads and recites the 
 more dramatic verses of " The Raven,'' ^ as if he desired 
 to knoio what he Jiadjust written. 
 
 This scene should be worked behind, a screen, like the 
 dream scene in " The Bells.'''' See Dor d' s illustrations, 
 etc., in working back ground effects to enhance Poe^ s act- 
 ing. Virginia appears in a vision as Lenore, and the 
 Raven in shadow is revealed sitting upon a bust of 
 Pallas above a faintly outlined door. These effects 
 should be produced with lights, au,d a mirror or other 
 mechanical device, as if they had arisen in Poe^s 
 fancy out of the darkness. One small candle on the 
 table furnishes an excuse for the light which is 
 thrown upon the poet. Music throughout. Dark 
 change to Act III.) 
 
42 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. : Parlor in Helen Whitman^ s country house 
 near Fordham. Handsome appointments. Large double 
 window R. 3. Garden to back window. Mantle piece 
 and mirror R. '2. Door R. 1 E. ; door L. 1, E. Cnrtained 
 Entrance G. Piano and stool L. 3. Table and two 
 chairs L. Medalion on table. Large book on table. 
 Candles on table, lighted. Ornaments and lamp 
 (lighted) on piano. Enter Marjary stealthily. 
 
 MARJAHY. {Entering and looking out windoio. 
 Calls., softly.) Carroll! CiarroU! Why, its Parson Prime, 
 to see Cousin Helen. Why does he come ? Nobody is 
 waiting for him. {Knock.) Oh, dear, he'll ask all about 
 my Sabbath School lesson, and I — 1 can't think of any- 
 thing but Carroll. Where's the Bible ? {Takes up large 
 black book wnconsciously. Tries to read intently as she 
 answers door R. 1.) 
 
 PARSON. {Entering.) Thank you, my dear, thank 
 you. 
 
 MARJARY. {Looking up demurely.) Oh, Parson 
 Prime, is it you ? I was so absorbed. 
 
 PARSON. Very commendable, my dear. Pious in- 
 dustry is the greatest of virtues. 
 MARJARY. Yes, Parson. 
 
 PARSON. And what were you reading in the Grood 
 Book? 
 
 MARJARY. I — I was looking for Solomon and his 
 wives. 
 
 PARSON. Solomon and his wives? A rather serious 
 text, my child. 
 
 MARJARY. {Confused.) Yes,— well— I wanted to 
 see if any of them eloped — that is, — do you think it 
 wicked to elope. Parson ? All mj' family have eloped. 
 
43 
 
 PARSON. {Smilmg.) To be sure I do. Very 
 wicked. Heaven keep such nonsense from your pretty 
 head. {TaMng hook froitn her.') Why, this is not the 
 Good Book ! 
 
 MARJARY. Oh, dear, isn't it, Parson Prime? 
 {Aside.) I can't see anything but Carroll. 
 
 PARSON. {SJiaTcing Ms finger good-naturedly at 
 lier.) Is your Cousin Helen in ? 
 
 MARJARY. Yes, Parson Prime ; I'll call her. 
 
 Parson. Nay, nay, don't disturb her poetical re- 
 flections. Just bring the basket of provisions she 
 promised for poor Miss Honeygood. I told her I would 
 call for it. 
 
 MARJARY. Yes, Parson Prime. {Exit L. 1 E.) 
 
 PARSON. How my parish is lately blessed. Miss 
 
 Whitman, a poetess, — a philantrophist {Enter Mar - 
 
 jafy L. 1 E. loith basket of promsions.) Is this the 
 basket, my dear ? 
 
 MARJARY. Yes, Parson Prime ; and here is a little 
 purse. I heard Cousin Helen say she was sure the Par- 
 son could put it where it would do most good. 
 
 PARSON. So I can, my dear, so I can. {Quite un- 
 covsciously places purse in Ms own pocket.) She 
 will receive her reward in heaven. 
 
 MARJARY. {Looking uneasily at clock and win- 
 dow.) Must you go so soon. Parson ? 
 
 PARSON. Not a moment to stay, my dear. Miss 
 Honeygood needs my constant visitation and prayers. 
 This will be so welcome to the dear good sister. And 
 then my Sabbath sermon is still incomplete, my dear. 
 I must brush it up a little to-night. {Grossing to M.) 
 
 MARJARY. {Innocently.) If you are so very busy, 
 Parson, couldn't you — couldn't you make it a little 
 shorter next Sunday ? 
 
44 
 
 PARSON. My dear child. I never neglect my flock, 
 never. Did you place the little bottle of port in the 
 basket? Miss Honeygood is very weak, poor soal. 
 {Looks under napkin.) 
 
 MARJAR-Y. Oh, yes, Parson Prime, two bottles. 
 Take care ; the basket's very heavy. There's enough 
 to last her a week. 
 
 PARSON. Ah, your cousin's sweet charity! My 
 compliments to her. Emulate her, emulate her, my 
 dear. {Exit R. 1 E. Marjary closes door and, crosses 
 to L. and. sits.) 
 
 MARJARY. It's a wonder to me what the poor of 
 this neighborhood did before cousin Helen came. 
 {Heads letter.) 
 
 ''My Own Dear Marjary: Meet me in the lane to- 
 night by Miss Honeygood' s, if I do not see you before. 
 I have so much to tell you. 
 
 From yours now and for always. You know !" 
 
 I know ! I have so much to tell him, I can't remem- 
 ber it. {Noise. She hides letter.) 
 
 HELEN. {Enters through portieres C, reading., 
 dressed in white. She is quite a contrast in character 
 to Virginia, though strangely suggestive of her in 
 face and Ugure. Helen is poetical, brilliant, dashing 
 at times, a cultured, woman of the world. Virginia 
 was sweet and sympathetic. Helen dresses in the 
 height of fashion. Virginia was simply gowned in 
 Act I and poorly clad in Act II.) Surely someone 
 crossed the veranda. {Calls.) Marjary, who was here 
 just now ? 
 
 MARJARY. It was the Parson. 
 
 HELEN. Oh, has Dr. Prime been here ? 
 
 MARJARY. Yes, and gone. Cousin Helen. I gave 
 him the basket and the purse. Cousin Helen ? 
 
 HELEN. Well, Marjary. 
 
45 
 
 MARJARY. Cousin Helen — do you think— do yon 
 think it quite right to marry ? 
 
 HELEJSr. {Laughing.) Right to marry ! Of course, 
 I do — holy — but at the proper age and time and place, 
 sweet youthful cousin. 
 
 MARJARY. And what is the proper age and time 
 and place, dear Cousin Helen ? 
 
 HELEN. Why, when the man loves the girl so very 
 much that he cannot help but marry her ; and when 
 the girl loves the man so very much that she can no 
 longer help but marry him, then 'tis the time and right- 
 ful age to marry. 
 
 MARJARY. And the proper place, dearest cousin ; 
 you forget to name the place ? 
 
 HELEN. When you reach the proper age and time, 
 the place is highly proper. 
 
 MARJARY. {Sighs.) Thank you, dearest cousin. 
 Goodnight. 
 
 HELEN. {Smiles and kisses Marjary.) Good night, 
 Marjary, and pleasant dre;ims. 
 
 MARJARY. Good night. {Aside.) I can no longer 
 help but marry. {Exit L. IE.) 
 
 HELEN. Her little heart begins to flutter. I would 
 her cousin's heart were as bubbling o'er with sunshine. 
 Dear child, she has not lived to see her ideals shattered. 
 I am sorry I missed the Parson. I feel so strangely 
 restless to-night that a few minutes discourse with that 
 good man might have quieted me. {Sits on couch R., 
 reading.) 
 
 " Tell this soul with sorrow laden 
 If, within the distant Aidenn, 
 It shall clasp a sainted maiden 
 Whom the angels call Lenore — 
 Clasp a rare and radiant maiden 
 Whom the angels name Lenore." 
 Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 
 
46 
 
 {Musing.) Lenore ! Who and what isLenore? {Throws 
 book aside.) This is the hundredth time to-ni^ht I've 
 asked myself that question. Oh, would I could dismiss 
 "The Raven " from my mind as easily as I toss the 
 book from me. {Rises and crosses to table; takes up 
 picture.) Edgar Poe ! I remember when I first saw 
 your miniature ; 'twas with an indifferent, careless eye ; 
 but now, the more I gaze the more enrapt I am. To 
 know and commune with such a soul would be for me 
 Elisium. Here is a man capable of that higher love 
 that jjoets attribute only to women. If the picture is 
 so beautifully sad, what must the man be. {Laughs.) 
 Oh, Helen, Helen, Helen ! For shame ! (Goes to piano; 
 plays several strains.) Even music has lost its charm 
 for me, and the waltz sounds funereal. The notes 
 break like the wail of the sea on some barren rock. 
 {Rises ; goes to whidoio.) How is the night? A fairy- 
 land ! What a moon ! I'll take a stroll, and yet tlie 
 neighbors annoy me so. When I wander forth at night, 
 they are thunderstruck with wonder. Simple folk, 
 they know no better. There's more in one breath of 
 night for me than in all the breezes of a livelong day 
 for them. {Throvis loJiite lace shaiolover her head and 
 starts for windrow.) A step on the path at this hour? I 
 trust there is no visitor. I am in no mood to be enter- 
 taining to-night. A stranger advancing quickly ! Why, 
 how curiously he acts, how wildly he stares. {Momng 
 towards L. ^, calls.) Marjary ! Marjary ! 
 
 TOXY. {Appears at window R 3). Virginia ! 
 HELEN. Sir! 
 
 TONY. Virginia! {Enters French window.) 
 HELEN. I beg your pardou, sir. What do you 
 want and who are you ? 
 
 TONY. Y"es — well— but — you must pardon me. A 
 
47 
 
 miracle ! You are the living image of a dear friend of 
 mine. 
 
 HELEN. Indeed ! 
 
 TONY. Her image. 
 
 HELEN. Her suggestion, possibly. 
 
 TONY. Ob, speak again— the same sweet voice— her 
 voice. 
 
 HELEN. I have heard of doubles in romance, sir, 
 but have never till now put any faith in them. 
 
 TONY. Pardon me, I can scarcely master myself. It 
 is all so strange. It will pass in a moment. I am not 
 often frightened, madam, but — the moonlight — the 
 hour— and the suddenness — once more, pardon me. 
 
 HELEN. Be seated. 
 
 TONY. {SUs B.). She was so beautiful. Her hus- 
 band nearly lost his mind with grief. 
 
 HELEN. Her husband ! 
 
 TONY. Understand me, madam, her husband and I 
 are brothers in all but blood. 
 
 HELEN. I appreciate your sympathy and regret I 
 gave you i)ain unconsciously. What can I do to help 
 you? 
 
 TONY. I had almost forgotten my triHing mission. 
 I wish to find — to find — {Ta/ces out note and reads.) 
 Find Miss Helen Whitman — Helen Whitman. 
 
 HELEN, That is my name. {Tony rises. ^ 
 
 TONY. Indeed, I should have known ! I am Tony 
 Preston, on my way to town from your neighbor's — I 
 believe Miss Byrd is our mutual friend — and at her re- 
 quest, I merely stopped to leave this note. • 
 
 HELEN. Oh, indeed, from Dorothy ? (7'a/5:e5 note.) 
 Thank you, you are welcome. 
 
 TONY. And as my errand brought me up the path. 
 
48 
 
 your face was at the window, and — you see, I had just 
 passed the lonely spot where we laid her to rest nearly 
 two years ago. 
 
 . HELEN. By the path? I've seen the place. It is the 
 shortest way to Dorothy's house. I like to stroll there 
 myself ; for I do not fear the dead — only the living. 
 Pardon me. {Reads.) 
 
 " Dear Helen: — Carroll received word to-day from 
 my agent, Mr. Pelham. of Baltimore, in regard to our 
 investments there by his good advice. I trust him im- 
 plicity. I cannot get out, so I am making a conven- 
 ience of my fiiend, Mr. Preston, who just called and is 
 returning to town. Come to me, Dorothy Byrd.'' 
 {Rises.) 
 
 TONY. I hope I am not the bearer of ill news, 
 madam ? 
 
 HELEN. A business note merely. A very good rea- 
 son for a stroll to Dorothy's for a chat with her to- 
 night. I thank you for your trouble. Won't you step 
 into the drawing room ? I'll order refreshments. 
 
 TONY. I assure you, it is not my way to refuse the 
 good things of life, but I have not the time to-night. 
 {Starts to go; then stops.) I mast ask you again to 
 pardon my strange deportment, but you are so like 
 Virginia Poe. 
 
 HELEN. Virginia Poe! Virginia Poe! Notthepoet'5 
 w^ife ? 
 
 TONY. Yes. she that was. 
 
 PELBN. Virginia Po^ ! It is a name that casts a 
 spell over me. I had just laid down " The Raven " as 
 you entered. {Crosses to R.) 
 
 TONY. Indeed 
 
 HELEN. {Sits R.) I have many friends in common 
 
.49 
 
 with the poet, but it has never been my good fortune to 
 look upon his face. 
 
 TONY. I remember now, though I did not know you 
 had moved into the neighborhood. Helen Whitman is 
 a name often on his lips. 
 
 HELEN. I am glad to hear that. We have corres- 
 ponded on several occasions, and I hear he has hallowed 
 some of my poor verses by speaking well of them. 
 
 TONY. He admires jour writings exceedingly, 
 madam. 
 
 HELEN. How good of him. 
 
 TONY. You are almost the living image of his de- 
 parted wife, though, now I look more closely, the hair 
 and eyes are lighter, but the lirst impression is the 
 same. {Goes up.) 
 
 HELEN. Strange ! I have not been told of this 
 before ! 
 
 TONY. No, Virginia was an invalid for years, and 
 many of his friends had never seen her. 
 
 HELEN. I am sorry you have to go so soon. 
 
 TONY. To tell the truth, I am anxious for Poe to- 
 night. He left me in town early this morning, and I 
 have not seen him since. It may be foolish, but we are 
 all that way sometimes — and — I am very fond of Edgar. 
 Good evening, Miss Wl)itman. (Crosses to R. 1.) 
 
 HELEN. Good evening, Mr. Preston. 
 
 TONY^. Good evening. {Exit R. 1 E. Music.) 
 
 HELEN. {Thinking aloud.) His wife, whom he 
 loved so tenderly ; and I look like her. I wonder if he 
 would think so ? And if he did — Pshaw ! {Goes to 
 toindow R. 0.) E'en the crickets and the whippoorwills 
 are hushed to night, and the owls are strangely silent. 
 There is something mysterious in the air. Legend 
 
60 
 
 says that the stars are but peep-holes cut from the floor 
 of Heaven by curious Gods to watch us mortals through, 
 and that the azure bits cut therefrom fell to earth and 
 made the violets. I trust 'tis but a fable ; for there's 
 something sprung unbidden in my heart tonight I 
 would e'en keep from Heaven's eye. I look like her, 
 and he loved her — lie loved her — {Goes out by loindow 
 dreamily^ as the scene closes.) 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene II : A country lane by High Bridge near 
 Miss Honey good'' s. Night. The moon is partly ob- 
 scured by clouds during this scene. Enter Carroll 
 Brent cautiously. 
 
 CARROLL. {Enter R. IE.) Marjary ! Marjary ! 
 Marjary ! I wish she would come. {LooTcs off L.^ 
 anxiously.) 
 
 MARJARY. {Outside L. J E.) Carroll, Carroll, is 
 that you ? 
 
 CARROLL. Of course, it is. Who else could it be? 
 
 MARJARY. {Entering cautiously L. 1 E.) Oh, 
 Carroll ! Did you see ? Did you see ? 
 
 CARROLL. See what ? 
 
 MARJARY. Something in white, moving among the 
 trees, — like a spirit ! 
 
 CARROLL. {Frightened.) There are no such things 
 as spirits, Marjary. 
 
 MARJARY. I tell you I saw it. And Old Aunt 
 Betty told me that there are spirits. Oh, see there, 
 again, through the trees, Carroll. 
 
 CARROLL. Where? 
 
 MARJARY. I can't see it now. I wish I were home, 
 I wish I were home. 
 
51 
 
 CARROLL. {Close to her.) Don't be afraid, Mar- 
 jary. 
 
 MARJARY. I am not so much afraid when von are 
 with me, Carroll. 
 
 CARROLL. Then you are not afraid to be with me 
 always ? 
 
 MARJARY. Not afraid. 
 
 CARROLL. Then you will marry me, and come to 
 ni}^ home in Baltimore ? 
 
 MARJARY. I'll marry you at the proper age and 
 time and place, dear Carroll. 
 
 CARROLL. And what is the proper age and time and 
 place-, dear Marjary ? 
 
 MARJARY. 1 thought perhaps you'd know. {They 
 embrace.) 
 
 CARROLL. I do — it's now— at once. It will be such 
 fun. We'll run away and come back and tell them all 
 about it. 
 
 MARJARY. Run away ! Elope ! Impossible ! We 
 have no horse, Carroll, dear. 
 
 CARROLL. And why a horse ? 
 
 MARJORY. We could not elope without a horse. 
 None of my family ever did. 
 
 CARROLL. {LaugJiing.) But where would I get a 
 horse this hour of night, Marjary ? 
 
 MARJARY. Oh, dear, oh, dear, what shall we do ? 
 It's no use to reason with you. It would be no elope- 
 ment at all. It would ruin my family reputation. 
 Grandmamma eloped on a pillion behind grandpapa. 
 They had a banquet, a duel— swords ! I often heard 
 my mother tell of it before she died. Grandpapa came 
 into the ball room like a hero in a book, took grandmam- 
 ma from the arms of his rival, whom he wounded with his 
 
52 
 
 sword, and away tliey went in the moonlight on a 
 gallop ! {Proudly.) Oh, I have a family with skele- 
 tons in its closet, Carroll dear. 
 
 CARROLL. And your dear mother, Marjary, did she 
 elope, too ? 
 
 MARJARY. To be sure she did. All my family. 
 Mamma eloped with a coach and four. 
 
 CARROLL. A coach and four ! That was royal. 
 
 MARJARY. And my great-grandmamma had ahorse, 
 too ! No one ever heard of eloping in any other way. 
 {Very coiifidcntiallii .) Only — you musn't tell, Carroll* 
 — for we only speak of it in the immediate family circle. 
 Great grandmamma eloped with the butcher's boy. He 
 borrowed the butcher's horse. 
 
 CARROLL. Didn't anyone ever elope on foot, Mar- 
 jary, dear ? 
 
 MARJARY. Not that I ever heard of. It would be 
 so foolish to elope that way. 
 
 CARROLL. If we can t do any better, perhaps we 
 might be foolish this time. 
 
 MARJARY. Perhaps. {They embrace.) 
 
 PARSON. {Noise. Marjary and, Carroll stand close 
 together anxiously R. G. Enter Parson Prime from 
 Miss Honey good'' s cottage L. C.) Good night. Miss 
 Honey good. I trust the morning will find you brighter. 
 
 MARJARY. {To Carroll.) It's Parson Prime ! 
 
 PARSON. {Seeing them in the shadoio.) What is it, 
 friends ? You surely are not afraid joi me. 
 
 CARROLL. We — we were only 
 
 MARJARY. Yes— we were only — Parson Prime 
 
 PARSON. Why, Marjary, is it you? What brings 
 you here ? Is some one ill at home ? You,r cousin ? 
 
 MARJARY. No, Parson Prime. 
 
5:3 
 
 PARSON. Some poor soul requires my prayers ? 
 
 MARJARY. Not yonr prayers, Parson. 
 
 PARSON. What is it, child? What has hap- 
 pened ? 
 
 MARJARY. Ask Carroll. 
 
 CARROLL. Ask Marjary. 
 
 PARSON. Oh, ho, I see. But have you contem- 
 plated the seriousness of your step, my children ? Have 
 you fully weighed its gravities ? 
 
 MARJARY. Oh, yes, all its gravities. Parson. 
 
 PARSON. And what says the dear Miss Whitman ? 
 
 MARJARY. Well, we haven't had time to ask her. 
 
 PARSON. No time to ask her ? 
 
 MAKJARY. No, Parson Prime. You see 1 only 
 just made up my mind. 
 
 CARROLL. Yes, Parson, she only just made up her 
 mind. 
 
 PARSON. {Laughing.') When would you have the 
 ceremony performed ? 
 
 MARJARY. Is it necessary to put it off. Parson ? 
 CARROLL. To-night ? Why not to-night, Marjary ? 
 
 PARSON. To-night ! 
 
 MARJARY. It is nearly to-morrow already, Parson. 
 
 PARSON. Nay, nay, my children. There is a time 
 and place for all good things. Back to your homes. 
 The moonlit lanes and secret walks are places only in 
 which to whisper love. Let your happy thoughts be 
 runaways; your eager hearts elope in joyous expecta- 
 tion ; but wed with proclamation bells and witnesses, 
 that all may see the happiness and sanctity of the mar- 
 riage scene and read in another love-ruled home an- 
 other omen of a peaceful, prosperous State. To-mor- 
 row, we will catechise your hearts ; if they are true and 
 
54 
 
 things are fitting, far be it from me to say you nay. 
 {Gar roll and Marjary embrace.) Tut! Tut! You are 
 not wedded yet. Home, home ; reflect and pray. 
 ■ MARJARY. Good night, Parson Prime. 
 
 CARROLL. Gfood night, Parson Prime. 
 
 PARSON. Good night, my children. Heaven bless 
 you both and make you wiser. ( Exeunt Carroll and 
 Marjary, L. 1 E.) 
 
 PARSON. {Looking after them.) Oh, youth, youth ! 
 How can old hearts sit in judgment on young hearts' 
 follies ? How can the evening judge the morning of the 
 day? Hush! {Church clock tolls midnight.) The 
 clock strikes the very hour that forty years ago this old 
 heart was gladdened by a softly spoken vow. Ah ! 
 to-morrow shall witness your nuptials, children, if lean 
 consummate it. I'll overtake them. {Exit after them, 
 L. 1 E.) 
 
 ACT in. 
 
 Scene 3. Graveyard at midnight. Church and par- 
 sonage off. Bright moonlight. Tomb C. Flowers, 
 etc. An open grave near tomb. Grate-digger'' s tools 
 near open grave, among which is a knife. City lights 
 in distance across fiver. Enter Poe, cloaked. Music. 
 
 What a night ! The sky rains stars. Aurora darts 
 her streams of silvery light in shafts till lost in heavenly 
 ether. What does this day in night portend ? Is it to 
 light me on my way? Out, ye twinkling orbs and 
 scinder of a moon ! I have found this path when na- 
 ture's shroud of snow mantled the earth. I have found 
 it when the darkness gathered and the midnight storm 
 uprooted trees and made the people tremble ; and think 
 ye I need thy rays to point my path to-night ? {At 
 tomb.) Ah, here lies all the earth — the Lenore of my 
 
55 
 
 brain, the Virginia of my heart. Where art thou, 
 child ? All here. Come, speak to me. Ah, can this 
 coverlet of flowers wei<?h thee down and hide thy face, 
 or their sweet odor drug thee for a little dream ? Oh, 
 man, what do I here? (Bises.) Awake! Have I 
 naught but idle words to cast upon the grave of her I 
 love ? Why came I here ? To join thee, prettj^ one. 
 Hush! Whose voice was that ? 'Twas but the wind, 
 self- weary like myself. Fool, coward, fancy's slave ! 
 Virginia did not fear to go, and she had naught but 
 simple faith to guide her steps. I am armed with 
 philosphy, worlds of philosophy, and yet I pause. 
 What is it rises unbidden to my lips? A prayer my 
 mother taught me. Why comes it at such a time and 
 such a place out of the past ? I just recall it. Ah, that 
 baby-prayer shall be the a^ant-cour i er of my wretched 
 soul and bear the tidings of my coming to Virginia. 
 {Kneels at tomb, 'praying. Enter Parson., Marjary 
 and Carroll, L., 2 E.) 
 
 PARSON". This way. Leave it all to me. Hush ! 
 
 POE. Is the Day of Judgment come, and these the 
 first to answer to their names ? 
 
 PARSON. Whence came that cry? It is Sorrow's 
 own. 
 
 POE. Who and what are ye that invade this scared 
 place ? 
 
 PARSON. Friends, who, mortal like, missed their 
 path, but still have faith the eye of God is on them. 
 
 CARROLL. Where are we, sir ? 
 
 POE. In the grave-yard. Can you not see ? ' 
 
 PARSON. What do you here at such an hotir? 
 
 POE The better part of me dwells here. {Aside.) 
 God gives the earth to such as these and takes Virginia. 
 
56 
 
 PARSON. {Aside to Carroll and Marjary.) He is 
 some deranged man. Fear not, friend. 
 
 POE. Fear ! My soul is seamed and scarred. I have 
 writhed in the toils of every fanged and hissing monster 
 that feeds upon the weary brain, and you talk to me 
 of fear. 
 
 PARSON. Life has made you bitter. It grieves me 
 to leave you, brother, so unreconciled ; but we intrude. 
 Come, friends. {Exeunt Parson^ Marjary and Car- 
 roll L. '2 E. Music. ) 
 
 POE. How little some times stays the ship in port. 
 It is growing late, and here I linger on life's bleak shore 
 alone, and listen to the mocking winds, wafted from the 
 great and unknown deep. We must slip the anchor and 
 take to the open sea or be mangled on the reefs. There's 
 no alternative. What's this? {Stumbles over tools left 
 hy grave-digger.) A grave-digger's knife! E'en 
 Heaven sends a toy of destruction to spur on tardy 
 purpose. Friend, thou hast forgotten the best thing 
 in life, the means of leaving it. Lie there, thou 
 rusty steel, and help some poorer beggar o'er the stile. 
 I would welcome thee, were I not better provided. 
 {Places knife on tomb and takes a oial of poison from 
 his pocket.) This is the la^t friend of whom Edgar Poe 
 will ask a favor. {Sees city lights tuoinkling in dis- 
 tance and laughs mockingly.') Farewell, farewell, thou 
 selfish, sleeping world ! I have no tears for thee at 
 parting. Rob, murder and satiate thy greed for gold; 
 hew down the forests ; seine the seas of every pearl ; 
 kill the last warbling bird and living thing ; pillage the 
 hidden vaults of Mother Earth ; then wrangle for thine 
 ill-gotten gains. {Laughs hysterically.) Thou art 
 right ! Let notliing live ! And then, when thou hast 
 translated Beauty itito Filth, made Art a Wanton, 
 laughed at Truth, and broken Justice's image. Heaven's 
 
57 
 
 best gift to man, come then> oh, World, to this sweet, 
 secluded spot beneath the trees, to the neglected grave 
 of Edgar Poe, the hapless poet ; for he has found what 
 thou hast not, the mystery of peace. Read in the 
 daisies that grow over him of one, who. weary of life's 
 shadows, was cradled to eternal rest in the arms of his 
 Lenore. {Enter Helen R. 1 E. Crosses slowly to 
 L. 1 E. Blue calcium on her.) Farewell, oh, World, 
 farewell ! I drink my last, sweet draught to thee ! 
 {Places vial to his lips. Sees Helen.) Yirginia ! {He 
 drops vial and falls back on tomb, overcome by the 
 vision.) 
 
 (cURTAITSr.) 
 
58 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 ScEKE : A dilapidated garret in Baltimore in 3. 
 Street hacking in I/., showing roofs. Small gable win- 
 dow L. C. Windoio R., corner showing outside stairs 
 and. platform. Doors L. 3 and L. 1. Fireplace R. 2. 
 Old trunk up R. ope7i, loith manuscripts strewn about. 
 Manuscripts and, papers cover table L. Old candle 
 stick and candle on table. Cot up L. Table up R.^ 
 with biickei and gourd dipper. Chair down R., old 
 and rickety. Everything very old and pomrty-stricken 
 Small Bible on table up R. Enter Erebus., loith 
 old-fashioned iron-bound bucket filled with water. 
 
 EREBUS. {Talking to Jams elf after the fasldon of 
 the negro. ^ ^Deed I wish dis yer water 'ud run up hill. 
 {Knock L. 1.) Dat's dat polertician woman 'bout de 
 rent. Poor white trash ! I wouldn't dirty my bands 
 wid her, but I owes her money. I didn't tell Mars' 
 Ed^ah 'bout dat. He ain't right nohow , deed he ain't. 
 Erebus, your ole Marsa's possessed. {Opens door.) 
 
 MRS. PIDGEON. {Enters L. 1 E. Crosses towards 
 table L. She speaks with Southern accent and drawl.) 
 Keep me waitin', would you, in my own house ? Better 
 I)ay your rent before you put on airs . 
 
 EREBUS. 'Deed, Missus, dat rent don' split my 
 memory 'tirely. 'Deed, I'll pay. 
 
 MRS. PIDGEON. I leckon you will or go into the 
 street, you lazy good-for-nothin'. {Sits L.) Who is 
 this man you brought home with you without your 
 landlady's askin' ? I haven't got a good look at him, 
 but my William has. 
 
 EREBUS. {C.) Dat's Mars' Edgah. 
 
 MRS. PIDGEON. Your master ! You told me you 
 were a free nigger. 
 
59 
 
 EREBUS. {Going towards table R.) Mars' Edgali 
 done freed me long years ago, Missus. 
 
 MRS. PIDGEON. Wasn't worth your keeping, eh ? 
 {Rises, advances towards trunk.) What's all this lit- 
 ter? (About to touch manuscripts.) 
 
 EREBUS. {Greatly excited.) Don' yo' touch dat, 
 Missus ; don' yo' touch dat ? 
 
 MRS. PIDGEON. {Starts bacTc frightened.) Lord a 
 Mercy, what is it, man ? 
 
 EREBUS. Dat's Mars' Edgah's writin's. 
 
 MRS. PIDGEON. Diat the nigger ! I thought it was 
 gunpowder. Writin's, eh? {Pushes Erebus aside and 
 crosses to trunk.) A nice mess of writin's these are 
 anyway. {Kneels; looks over MSS.; throws some 
 about. ) 
 
 EREBUS. {L. of her; doion stage.) Does dey tell 
 what's de matter wid Mars' Edgah ? 
 
 MRS. PIDGEON. Hear that ignorance! {TJirows 
 MSS. aside ; rises ; goes to Erebus.) Why don't he 
 sell his writin's ? 
 
 EREBUS. Dar ain't nobody wid brains 'nuff to buy 
 'em, Missus, dat's why. 
 
 MRS. PIDGEON. Rubbish ! If my rent ain't paid 
 by to-night, when my William gets home from 'lec- 
 tin' Major Pelham'to Congress, out you go. Mars' Edgah, 
 writin's and all ! Do you acquiesce in the notice to 
 vacate ? 
 
 EREBUS. {Woefully.) Will dar be fo'ce used, 
 Missus ? 
 
 MRS. PIDGEON. Yes, there'll be force used. 
 
 EREBUS. {Thoughtfully.) Den I acquiesces. 
 
 MRS. PIDGEON. {Loud cheers in the street below., 
 she goes to window.) Hear the 'lectioneerin'. Hurrah 
 
60 
 
 for William ! Htirrali for Pelliam ! A free nigger I 
 Bah I {Exit L. 1 E. Voice dies in distance.) 
 
 EREBUS. {Sighs.) I certainly is sorry to see her go. 
 I'se powerful weary ob dis life. Dis 'sponsibility ob 
 minglin' wid society's killin' me. I can cook fo' dem, 
 open de do' an' black de shoes ; but I can't do dis en- 
 tertainin'. Fo' God, I'se becomin' de shadow ob my 
 old self. {Noise outside, runs to window.) What's 
 dat crowd doin' ? Dey's fightin' in de entry-way. No. 
 It's Mars' Edgah ! He looks pale as de dead. Dey's 
 followin' him half-way up de stairs — Marsa ! Marsa ! 
 {Opens door C.) 
 
 POE. {Entering/ C, talking to crowd on stairs 
 below. He is badly broken in appearance and is visibly 
 under the influence of drugs and liquor which Jiaoe 
 affected his reason rather than intoxicated him.) In- 
 solent street beggars ! This is Richmond ! I reckon I 
 know Richmond — every stone in Richmond ! {Coming 
 down C.) They did not treat me so when I lived here. 
 They did not dare — the cowards. I was young then ; 
 but now I have lived an eternity. It cannot be far. 
 How everything has changed. Courage, I am nearly 
 home. I feel I am nearly home. Oh, I cannot stand. 
 My head ! Help ! Help ! I must get home. Oh ! 
 {Sinks on floor by chair C. Jeering and laughter 
 outside on stairs below. Looking into space. Erebus 
 tries to help him.) Even the children and the dogs 
 have forgotten me. {Faintly.) Mr. Allan? 
 
 EREBUS. Mars' Allan ! 
 
 POE. Everyone in Richmond knows Mr. Allan, 
 
 EREBUS. Richmond ! Dis am Baltimore, Marsa. 
 
 POE. He is just like the rest. 
 
 POE. Thank you, boy. He's 'most asleep. Dead 
 tired, {Knock. Erebus opens door C.) Mars' Tony ! 
 
61 
 
 TONY. {Surprised.) Erebus, you here ! It is true 
 then. They told me such a man entered here, hatless 
 and hagoard, perhaps dying. 
 
 EREBUS. {Poivting to Poe.) He's dar, Mars' Tony. 
 
 TONY. Edgar ! found, found ! My God ! Go for 
 help — quick ! No, here. We must get him to the 
 hospital. That will be better. Come, Edgar. {liaises 
 him gently. They mone toioards door. Erebus on Poe" s 
 L.) Come, it is all right, now. I am Tony Don't 
 you know Tony ? You will be taken care of now, dear 
 fellow. {Leading him slowly towards G.) 
 
 POE. The boy ? 
 
 EREBUS. I'm here, marsa. {TaTtes Poe' s left hand.) 
 
 POE. How far is home ? 
 
 TONY. {R. of Poe.) Not far, not far. This way, 
 Edgar, this way. 
 
 POE. {Breaks from Mm.) You would deceive me 
 again, would you ? You would cage Edgar Allan Poe 
 again ! No, no. {Laughs.) I have seen too many of 
 your tricks. Come, boy. Come. {To Tony.) Go your 
 way and I'll go mine. Teach me the way in Richmond. 
 Teach me — come, boy, come ! {Moves haughtily 
 towards L. with Erebus, who looks anxiously at Tony 
 for help. ) 
 
 TONY. This is heart-rending. Edgar, I am Tony, 
 your old friend, Tony. 
 
 POE. That is what they told me before. They were 
 my old friends. They patted me on the back, and we 
 toasted the old times, and drove in a cab and I voted, 
 and we laughed and sang, and they took me somewhere, 
 and the door was bolted and I could not get out — I do 
 not remember. {Arm about Erebus.) 
 
 TONY. Edgar, listen to me. 
 
62 
 
 POE. Boy, you are my only friend now. The flowers 
 are growing over all the rest. Yon shall share my old 
 room with me, and shall be great some day. I will show 
 you the way, my boy, the way where I failed. 
 
 TONY. Must I look on this, the bitter penalty of 
 genius ? Edgar, look at me. 
 
 POE. How cold it is. {Kneels.) The fire is out. 
 There are only asHes on the hearth. See, boy, see, those 
 pictures hanging there are father and mother. You 
 must know them, boy. And this, hanging just as I 
 left it by the open window — that's Virginia. I hung it 
 there myself. {Melody ready in street below.) 
 
 TONY. The tears are trickling down my cheeks. 
 
 POE. And I am home at last. 
 
 TONY {Supporting him.) Yes, yes, your old room, 
 Edgar. {Aside to Erehus.) We must humor him until 
 he will go with us. 
 
 POE {Rising.) Strange, I cannot remember. Every- 
 thing is confused. Home, home, home ! {Negroes pass- 
 ing helow in street sing melody which dies in distance. 
 It greatly excites Poe and raises his spirits. He goes 
 to window, speaks gayly, feverishly, hut wildly.) Do 
 you hear, do you hear ! the plantation song ! It is 
 nightfall and they are coming from the fields. They 
 shall have a good supper for that song. But where' s 
 Virginia, Virginia ? {Crosses to Tony R. Sits on chair. 
 Tony moves hack of him. Erehus on Foe's left.) 
 Call Virginia ! 
 
 TONY. {Aside to Erebus:) Would I could. 
 
 POE. Boy, go call Virginia. 
 
 EREBUS. I would not know her now, Marsa. 
 
 POE. Would you not know an angel, boy ? 
 
 TONY. {Leading Erebus to C.) Yes, I will show 
 
63 
 
 you the way. {Aside to Erebus.) Get a carriage at 
 once. Hnsli ! {Exit Erehus C.) 
 
 POE. {On couch.) How fragrant are the jessamine 
 tiowers ! The}' are all in bloom to welcome me. 
 
 TONY. {Advances to Poe, kneels by liim.) Edgar ! 
 Edgar! Don't you remember me? Try. Try. 
 
 FOE. Tony! Tony! Tony! 
 
 TONY. Thank God ! Thank God ! Thank God ! 
 
 POE. We have been friends a long, long time, Tony. 
 Where is Virginia ? Strange, she does not come, the 
 little truant. 
 
 TONY. {Standing back of Poe on Ids left.) You 
 will see her very soon, very soon. 
 
 POE. Ah, I forgot the signal — the signal ! Where's 
 the window, Tony? My eyes are dim yet. [Tries to 
 rise ; falls back.) Oh, I cannot 
 
 TONY. What is it, Edgar ? 
 
 POE. My kerchief — wave it, wave it ! 
 
 TONY. If it will give you any happiness. 
 
 POE. 1\\(ive— {Music) there, the other window, Tony. 
 Higher ; she cannot see you. She is watching and 
 waiting, I know. She will meet me at the cross-roads ; 
 then we will stroll together through the woods, and I 
 will pick the wild flowers for her ; and the violets will 
 tell her of my love. She comes, she comes. {Rises and 
 crosses to C.) See, Tony, as beautiful as the Dawn ! 
 Virginia ! Virginia ! Virginia ! Where have you been, 
 'Virginia! I thought you would never come. No, no, 
 not my Virginia, not my Lenore ; I am deceived again. 
 It's the other face, the other face ! 
 
 TONY. Oh, if Helen Whitman were only here now — 
 
 POE. {Affected, and brought more to himself at the 
 mention (f her name.) Hush ! Don't speak her name, 
 if you love me, Tony. 
 
64 
 
 TONY, But she is here in Baltimore with Marjary 
 and Carroll. She seeks everywhere for you. 
 POE. Poor soul. She followed me then. 
 
 TONY. Edgar ! She will help you as she has helped 
 you for weeks by her companionship and love. I have 
 seen it. You have been like one inspired with new life 
 since you met that night — 
 
 POE. That night! Iknow— Iknow- 
 TONY. Rumor whispers you are engaged to wed — 
 that happiness and health await you in her love. Your 
 friends rejoice. 
 POE. {Sarcastically.) Rumor always knows. 
 
 TONY. Come with me, Edgar, to Marjary's. Do 
 not let her find you here in such surroundings. 
 
 POE. It is my home, sir. 
 
 TONY. There, there. We know. Come with me. 
 She will nurse you back to life and love. Why did you 
 leave her in the hour of your happiness. It was cruel. 
 
 POE. I cannot talk of this, Tony, even to you. I 
 shall never see Helen Whitman again. Never ! It is 
 best, best — believe me it is best. {Exit L. 3, leaving 
 Tony ) 
 
 EREBUS. {Entering C.) Mars' Tony, de carriage ! 
 
 TONY. Yes, yes. He is in there. Look after him. 
 Let no one see him until I return with the doctor. He 
 would not go with us. 
 
 EREBUS. Yes, Mars' Tony. {Exit L. 3 E.) 
 TONY. I have had many dark days, but none so 
 black as this. {Exits C.) 
 
 PELHAM. {Entering L. IE., followed by Pidgeon 
 and Carroll.) The latter goes up to the window C. and 
 looks out.) Much as a man's life is worth to climb such 
 stairs. Is this where he lives ? 
 
65 
 
 PIDGEON. This the place, Gov'nor. 
 
 PELHAM. (Seeing Erebus re-enter at noise and close 
 door anxiously behind him.) Here is someone now. 
 Ah, is Poe in ? 
 
 EREBUS. {Aside^ Mars' Pelham ! Who says Mars' 
 Poe live yah, sah ? 
 
 PIDGEON . I do, and I ought to know the lodgers in 
 my own house. 
 
 EREBUS. 'Deed, Mars' Pelham 
 
 PELHAM. You know me ? 
 
 EREBUS. Yes, Marsa. Don' yo' know me, sah ? I'se 
 Mr. Erebus. 
 
 PELHAM. Mr. Erebus of Hades ? 
 
 EREBUS. No, sah. Mr. Erebus of Richmon', sah. 
 
 PELHAM. (Tb Pidgeon.) Is this the only room ? 
 
 PIDGEON. This is Poe's. The ni2:ger sleeps in there 
 under the eaves. {Pointing to room where Poe has 
 gone. ) 
 
 EREBUS. {Trying to guard door.) Yes, Marsa, — 
 we — I — has two rooms, excusin' de parlor downstairs. 
 
 PELHAM. Be still. 
 
 EREBUS. Yes, sah. 
 
 PIDGEON. Get out ! 
 
 EREBUS. Yes, sah. {Exit L. 3 E. and shuts 
 door. ) 
 
 PELHAM. What did you say they did with him ? 
 Tell me again. 
 
 PIDGEON. Nineteen of them drugged — voted in 
 every ward 
 
 PELHAM. Yes, yes. But where did he go ? After — 
 after 
 
 PIDGEON. They turned him loose with the rest- 
 about done fqr — thanks to your friends 
 
66 
 
 PELHAM. {Conscience stricken.) Don't say that. 
 
 PIDGEON. I won't say it aloud, Gov'nor— voted 
 eleven times. He'll never peach. On his last legs when 
 We got him. 
 
 PELHAM. If he dies it was not through my orders. 
 Do you understand ? It was not through my orders. 
 By Heaven, I knew nothing of it. 
 
 PIDGEON. Yes, Gov'nor. 
 
 PELHAM. It only happened to torment me. Here, 
 get a drink for yourself while I wait to see — to see — if 
 he comes. {Offers money.') 
 
 PIDGEOM. This won't satisfy my constituency, 
 Gov'nor. You know Dolly's down stairs waiting for me. 
 
 PELHAM. {Impatiently.) I got you both work at 
 the hospital. What more do you want ? 
 
 PIDGEO-N. Well, you see as how I promised Dolly a 
 little something on the 'lection. It don't pay for a man 
 to lie to his wife, Gov'nor. Women remembers too 
 long. {Cheers helow in street.) 
 
 PELHAM. What's that? 
 
 NEWSBOY. {Outside, helow.) Papah ! Even' papah ! 
 Papah ! Even' papah ! Full 'count of Major Pelham's 
 defeat for Congress ! • 
 
 PELHAM. My God ! That too ! 
 
 CARROLL. Did you hear. Governor? The election 
 has gone against us. 
 
 PELHAM, It all seems like retribution. 
 
 PIDGEON. {Following Pelham to C) We are beat ; 
 I say we are beat. 
 
 PELHAM. I hear you. 
 
 PIDGEON. Well, what do I get out of it ? 
 
 PELHAM. What do you expect, fool ? {Crossing L.) 
 We are beaten and there's an end of it. 
 
67 
 
 PIDGEON. You didn't say that way yesterday, 
 Gov' nor. Yon said as how William Pidgeon was the 
 greatest i^ollertician vote-catcher in the business and 
 how there was rewards. 
 
 PELHAM. That was yesterday. You are one day 
 behind the times. 
 
 PIDGEON. You can't crawl that way, Gov'nor. 
 
 PELHAM. See! {Cheers outside. Goes to window.) 
 What's that fire down the street ; something is burning ? 
 
 CARROLL. It looks like you in effigy, Governor. 
 
 PIDGEON. I reckon the people want you to get 
 used to fire. 
 
 PELHAM. {Ooming down R.) Curse them. Come, 
 Carroll. I can't wait here any longer. I am not well — 
 come — 
 
 PIDGEON. See here, Gov'nor, I am not as young as 
 I look ; you know I works pollertics by the job, win or 
 lose. 
 
 PELHAM. I tell you, if there is nothing for me, there 
 is nothing for you. 
 
 PIDGEON. {Catching his coat sleeve.) I reckon 
 there is, though. How about my lodger and the 
 " coop" that you didn't know about but your friends 
 did? 
 
 PELHAM. Silence, sir ! I will allow no one to re- 
 flect upon my innocence in that. 
 
 CARROLL. There is someone coming up the stairs 
 now. Governor. 
 
 PIDGEON. Ten to one its the blackhaired, sickly- 
 looking chap that talks to himself and says as how he's 
 in Richmond. 
 
 PELHAM. Yes, yes. But how can I look into those 
 great eyes ! Remain below until I join you. {Pidgeon 
 
68 
 
 and Carroll exeunt L. IE.) Ke lives — he lives — and I 
 have not that on my conscience. Ah, this way, Mr. 
 Poe ; you are a better climber than I. {Opens door C. 
 Enter Helen.) Madam! I was not looking for you — 
 here. 
 HELEN. No? 
 
 PELHAM. {Recovering himself.) Pardon the bou- 
 doir ; the drawing room is occupied. The parlors are in 
 the hands of the decorators. It is a trifle gloomy, but 
 this is what the poets call a " gray day" at home. 
 
 HELEN. {Agliast at the surroundings.) I was told 
 Mr. Poe lived here. 
 
 PELHAM. Don't be disappointed; it's all the way 
 you look at things, madam. Is not this an airy castle ? 
 You must expect a poet to dwell among the clouds. 
 {He goes up toward windoio G.) Look, yonder are the 
 roofs and steeples. 
 
 HELEN. The great poet reduced to this ? It cannot 
 be, Mr. Pelham. {Crosses to Erehus, who enters L. 3.) 
 Erebus. {Aside) He sleeps. Ah, does Mr. Poe live — I 
 mean, come here ? 
 
 EREBUS. Yes, Miss Yirginiah ! {Pelham comes 
 down to back of table L.) 
 
 BOTH. Virginia ! 
 
 EREBUS. You'se Miss Yirginiah on earth de secon' 
 time, sure as Erebus has eyes ; else you'se de spit image 
 ob her. 
 
 HELEN. De spit image ! {Smiling.) Another wit- 
 ness of my former advent, Mr. Pelham. I begin to 
 think I am Yirginia, [Aside, crossing to L.) 1 long 
 so much to take her place in Edgar's heart. {At corner, 
 looking about the room.) A garret, a garret, and so 
 great a mind. {To Erebus. She speaks across without 
 moving from L.) See if your master is coming. 
 
69 
 
 EREBUS. Yes, Missus. (As/de.) I'll see if Mars' 
 Tony is comin' first. {£JxU C.) 
 
 HELEN". {Aside, going i/p and over to L. C, hy win- 
 doio.) I can scarcely wait ; yet how I dread tlie meet- 
 ing. 
 
 PELHAM. {Down to chair B., watcMng her in- 
 tently.') I trust you are cured, madam. 
 
 HELEN {At window C) Cured, sir? Of what? 
 {Lauahs sadly.) You know I am a poetess; and a 
 writer of verse, I fear, is seldom cured of anything. 
 
 PELHAM. {Advances towards her, loith chair. Rests 
 one knte on its seat.) Believe me, he is unworthy of 
 you. {Turns chair ; leans on its hack, facing Helen, 
 xoho advances towards him.) Don't be angry, madam. 
 For your own sake, let not romance mislead you, be- 
 cause, on a moonlight night, a twelvemonth past, it was 
 your mission to stay the hand of death. 
 
 HELEN. You followed me. 
 
 PELHAM. Hardly, madam. This world is not large 
 enough to hold a woman's secret. My secretary, Car- 
 roll Brent, told me. 
 
 HELEN. {Crossing to L.) Oh ! 
 
 PELHAM. My duty as ycmr adviser makes me speak 
 what I had otherwise rather die than utter of so old a 
 friend. My repeated efforts for his good have been 
 without avail. Fate, it seems, has placed the poet's 
 destiny in your hands. You should know the responsi- 
 bility and the danger. 
 
 HELEN". My confidence seems deeper set than 
 yours. 
 
 PELHAM. And your acquaintance shorter. There is 
 a serpent ready to devour you both, — called Drink ! 
 
 HELEN. {Rises.) That serpent lies dead. 
 
 PELHAM. {Rises.) I hoped so. 
 
70 
 
 HELEN. {Crossing R.) I know so. I hold Ms 
 promise, sir. 
 
 PELHAM. {Throws cliair aside lack of table L. 
 Crosses doion R.) His promise. 
 
 HELEN". I am warned by so-called friends like you 
 till I am heart sick. He has given me pledges. I be- 
 lieve him, sir. 
 
 PELHAM. {Crossing hacTc to her.) And 1 believe — 
 my eyes. 
 
 HELEN". Your insinuations are unkind. I will hear 
 no more. {Starts to go R.) 
 
 PELHAM. {Stopping her.) I am speaking of last 
 night. 
 
 HELEN. Last night? 
 
 PELHAM. Our poet has made good use of his short 
 stay in town, I assure you, madam. {Crosses to C, 
 then calls.) Erebus ! Erebus ! 
 
 EREBUS. {Enters ) Yes, sah ; yes, sah ; I'se yah. 
 
 PELHAM. {Ironically.) Ask his i^alet.^ if you will 
 not believe me. 
 
 HELEN. {Reprovingly.) Mr. Pelham ! 
 
 PELHAM. His reply I presume would not be pleas- 
 ant. 
 
 HELEN. I am not in the habit of questioning the ser- 
 vants of my friends. 
 
 PELHAM. Unfortunately, I cannot be so punctilious 
 where the interests of my client are concerned, madam. 
 {To Erebus^ who crosses to C. Pelham down R.) Did 
 you go for your master last night ? 
 
 EREBUS. Yes, sah. 
 
 PELHAM. Where did you find him ? 
 
 EREBUS. Ifoun' him {Catches Pelhar/i's eye.) 
 
 — don' 'member, sah. 
 
71 
 
 PELHAM. ril awaken your memory. Answer me or 
 I'll liave you whipped. {It begins to rain gently.) 
 HELEN. Mr. Pelham ! 
 
 PELHAM. Pardon. Was he not at the tavern, with 
 my— with the politicians, intoxicated, when you found 
 him ? 
 
 EKEBUS. No, sah ; Mars' Edgah was not 'toxicated. 
 I nebber see Mars' Edgah 'toxicated. (Aside.) I 
 wouldn't tell on Mars' Edgah if he kill me. {Crossing 
 to B.) 
 
 HELEN. {Triumphantly.) You do not progress well, 
 Mr. Pelham. 
 
 PELHAM He has not been sworn yet. A nigger is 
 afraid to swear to a lie. {Takes a small Bible from 
 table up R.) 
 
 HELEN. It would be well if all white men had that 
 scruple. 
 
 PELHAM. {Angrily. Forgetting himself.) Come 
 here. Put your black hand on the Scripture and swear 
 your master was not drunk. {Helen has her back one- 
 half to Pelham, looking off R.) 
 
 POE. {Enters L. ^ E., ragged and death-like, but 
 still proud as a prince.) The master will answer for 
 himself. {Coming do/on.) In this world, no tribunal has 
 jurisdiction o'er the private life of Edgar Poe but his 
 own conscience ; in the next, his God ! 
 
 PELHAM. {Taking Bible from Erebus.) "Judge 
 not that ye be not judged " is such a well worn word 
 of this Book, sir, that even you should have thumbed 
 it. 
 
 HELEN. {Crossing to Poe.) Edgar! 
 
 POE. {Sees her for the first time.) Helen ! You 
 here ! {Helen goes up C. and^ over to L. C.) 
 
72 
 
 PELHAM. {Advancing a little toioards Poe. Suavely 
 insulting.) Oh, joy, joy ! you live ; you live ! My old 
 Mend Edgar Poe of Riclimond ! They told me your 
 eye was bleared ; your step infirm ; your cheek sunken ; 
 your once buoyant carriage gone forever. 'Tis false. 
 Thank Grod, I have the ocular proof, 'tis false. From 
 this moment, sir, believe me your champion to confront 
 rumor with her own lies. My duty to my Party calls 
 me. (Poe crosses to table L. Pelham moves toward 
 door C.) The storm is gathering. Marjary will be 
 anxious about you, madam. I am ready to show you 
 to your coach. 
 
 HELEN. {Coming down 0.) Thank you, I will not 
 trouble you further, Mr. Pelham. 
 
 PELHAM. I do not understand. 
 
 HELEN. I have business with Mr. Poe. 
 
 MR. PELHAM. You surely do not intend — Pardon 
 me, but — What will scandal say if I leave you here un- 
 protected and alone ? 
 
 HELEN. Scandal ! You see that little hoop of gold? 
 It is the betrothal ring of honest souls, placed upon my 
 finger with holiest affiance-vows by Edgar Poe. 
 
 POE. {At table. Aside.) God forgive me. 
 
 PELHAM. Pardon, a thousand pardons, madam. I 
 did not think it had gone so far. My congratulations ; 
 may every happiness attend your coming union. 
 
 POE. Erebus, see this gentleman safely out. We 
 regret that he must depart so soon. 
 
 PELHAM. Thank you. I can find the way quite 
 well alone. I bid you a good afternoon, my friends. 
 {£Jxit C, followed by Erebus. Helen moves towards 
 B. a few steps.) 
 
 POE. {Looking after Pelham.) How I pity such a 
 man ; to fall below contempt is to fall very low indeed. 
 
73 
 
 HELEN". {Turns toioards Poe ivithout advancing.) 
 Edgar, do not mind his insults. 
 
 POE. It is not that, it is not that, which gnaws my 
 heart. Pardon, pardon my discourtesy. I have grown 
 so thoughtless of late. Did my valet not offer you a 
 chair ? Erebus, what do you mean ? Bring the lady — 
 Erebus? Permit me, madam. {Brings broken chair. 
 Places it oner towards R. and returns to L. O.) Be 
 seated. 
 
 HELEN". {Leaning against cliair.) Heaven support 
 me. I was not prepared for this. 
 
 POE. Erebus ! Erebus ! I say, bring the lady some 
 refreshments. She has travelled far. Some wine and 
 cakes, Erebus. "We honor ourselves in honoring our 
 fair guest. Erebus, some wine ! {Goes up to table H. 
 Helen crosses to table L. Poe taJces up empty decanter. 
 Aside.) I forgot. Times have changed for me. lam 
 no longer the prodigal son at home. {Fills glass with 
 water from gourd-dipper.) Ah, here is one drink left, 
 the most priceless of them all. Even the tattered, vaga- 
 bond, by lifting a refreshing draught from the wayside 
 stream, in this, can play mine host most royally. It 
 comes from the hillside. It is as pure as Mother Earth. 
 Honor me, madam, in God's own beverage. {Down to 
 Helen L. C. Proudly.) 
 
 HELEN. {Takes glass ; places it on table.) No, no, 
 Edgar. Oh, what has happened to you, dearest ? 
 Your eyes are so sad and distant. What is it, love ? 
 If I am not to be your confidant, then I should not be 
 your wife. {Takes Poe'' s hand.) It is my happiness to 
 divide your cares. You tremble but do not answer, 
 Edgar. "Yonr silence chills my very heart. Has your 
 love grown cold and does some other passion now fill 
 your breast ? 
 
74 
 
 POE. Yes, yes, that is it. A passion that will de- 
 vour us both. You have heard but now the words of 
 your friend, — my friend ; for God's sake heed his warn- 
 ing, heed his warning. {Totters to cliaii' R. Sits.) 
 
 HELEN. {Crossing to Mm; stands hy 7iim.) Yoa 
 are trifling. Why did you leave me so ? You filled me 
 with every hope. You told me, in words such as angels 
 only can speak, how you loved me. And when I 
 breathed accordant answer to you vows, lo, you were 
 gone ; and I had naught but idle tears to till the place 
 of love. 
 
 POE. {Seated, distractedly.) 
 
 " It was a July midnight 
 
 Clad all in white upon a violet bank 
 
 I saw thee 
 
 And thou a ghost, amid the entombing trees 
 Didn't glide away. Only thine eyes remained. 
 They would not go — They never yet have gone." 
 
 HELEN". {Kneels by him.) All this, and still you 
 fled from me, Edgar ! 
 
 POE. My promise. I could not look into your sweet 
 face, it was so like hers. I could not deceive you about 
 myself and so I fled, fled, fled. {Rises and crosses to 
 table L. Leans on it. Helen rises.) 
 
 HELEN. {Crosses to C.) The ways of Heaven are 
 manifold. God made me in her image for a purpose, 
 Edgar. I believe that purpose was to save you from 
 yourself. 
 
 POE. Save me ! For what ? More hours of wretched 
 poverty — I mean — . {Advances to her C.) I — I — am 
 unworthy of your interest, Helen. I fled from you to 
 save you, not myself. I am past redemption. Oh, why 
 did you follow me here ? 
 
 HELEN. {Takes his hand.) Because I love you, 
 Edgar, and love alone can save you, Edgar, as the lesser 
 
75 
 
 passion is lost and smothered in the greater. Trust in 
 love, dear ; it has saved the world. 
 
 POE. I brought wretchedness to one soul who trustad 
 me. I cannot to another and live. Look about you. 
 Is this the home to ask a wife to share — a poet's gar- 
 ret ? Ah, is there no escape from it all ; no refuge from 
 myself ? {Lightning and thunder. He starts as if to 
 hurl himself from window. Lightning half hlinds 
 Mm. ) 
 
 HELEN. {Screams, crosses to L. and up to Poe. She 
 puts her hand- on his shoulder to restrain him.) Edgar, 
 for love of Heaven, what would you do ? {Bells in dis- 
 tant steeple ring a merry chime. Poe listens.) 
 
 POE. Hush, the bells, bells, bells, bells ! They laugh 
 at the storm without and the storm within. Would I 
 were made like them. I would laugh as well. 
 
 HELEN. " Hear the mellow wedding bells, 
 Grolden bells, 
 What a world of happiness their harmony 
 foretells." 
 An omen, Edgar, an omen ! They ring out hope for 
 you and hope for me. An omen, love ! {Kisses his 
 hand. Thunder ; distant roll. ) 
 
 POE. {Bfills change and toll in distant steeple. 
 Helen goes slowly douon to table L.) 
 " Hear the tolling of the bells — 
 
 Iron bells — 
 What a world of solemn thought their monody com- 
 pels." 
 An omen, yes ! The wedding march and then the 
 funeral dirge. A merry omen, truly. I would reverse 
 the order to perfect joy. The tolling first. {Thunder ; 
 another distant roll.) Hark, you hear the roar of the 
 maelstrom ! Flee, flee, from me, Helen, as you would 
 
76 
 
 from death ! {Low crash.) It comes, it comes, it 
 comes — for me ! 
 
 HELEN. What, Edgar ? 
 
 POE. Don't you hear the ominous flapping of its 
 wings ? 
 
 HELEN". {Goes to him). It is the storm distracts you, 
 Edgar. There is no soul here but you and I. 
 
 POE. It has no soul ; it is a demon, the demon of my 
 blighted life! It's curse is written. {Thunder and 
 lightning. ) 
 
 HELEN. Edgar I ( Turns head away, covering her 
 eyes, hut does not move from Poe. During the follow- 
 ing speech the lightning occasionally forms an outline 
 over the window of a raven sitting on a hust of Pallas 
 and fading away with the flashes.) 
 
 POE. See, see, where it has perched upon the bust of 
 Pallas ; it's basilisk ej^'es pierce into my very soul. Last 
 night, it tempted me to follow it ; it led me to a tavern 
 black as the nether hell, and, pointing to a cauldron, 
 bade me, "Drink" ! As I approached to do so, the 
 darkness lifted and there stood God's Angel ! A halo 
 of light encircled her ; she spoke to me, and the tears 
 coursed down my cheeks. I strove to whisper "Vir- 
 ginia ", but my tongue clove to my mouth. I tried to 
 stretch my arms to her, but, my limbs refused their 
 office ; and so she passed away. 
 
 " Prophet ! I said," " thing of evil, ! 
 Prophet still, if bird or devil ! — 
 By that Heaven that bends above us — 
 By that God we both adore-- 
 Tell this soul with sorrow laden 
 If, within the distant Aidenn, 
 It shall clasp a sainted maiden 
 Whom the angels name Lenore — 
 
77 
 
 Clasp a rare and radiant maiden 
 Whom the angels name Lenore." 
 {Crash of tJiunder.) Nevermore, nevermore, never- 
 more ! 
 
 HELEN. Edgar! 
 
 POE. Oh! I am "a thing, a nameless thing o'er 
 which the raven flaps his funeral wing !" Lord help my 
 poor soul. {Falls dead C.) 
 
 HELEN. {Kneeling by Mm.) Edgar, Edgar!. I un- 
 derstand it now. It was the memory he loved, not me. 
 
 (CURTAIN.) 
 
 {Picture : Tony^ Marjary and Erebus at door. Helen 
 raises hand to them significantly.) 
 
eOPYRIBHT 
 APR 11 1904 
 
 OFFICE 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 015 905 83 P I f