Title: The snow man
A metrical play in one act
Author: Laurence Housman
Release date: March 14, 2023 [eBook #70285]
Language: English
Original publication: United States: Samuel French
Credits: Charlene Taylor, Krista Zaleski and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
Transcriber’s Notes
Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations in hyphenation and accents have been standardised but all other spelling and punctuation remains unchanged.
Samuel French: Publisher
28-30 West Thirty-eighth Street: New York
LONDON
Samuel French, Ltd.
26 Southampon Street Strand
PRICE TWENTY-FIVE CENTS
Copyright, 1916,
by LAURENCE HOUSMAN
CAUTION.—Amateurs and Professionals are hereby warned that “THE SNOW MAN”, being fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States, is subject to royalty, and any one presenting the play without the consent of the author or his authorized agent, will be liable to the penalties by law provided. Application for the right to produce “THE SNOW MAN” must be made to Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
[Pg 5]
Joan | A peasant woman | |
Mary Ann | } | Her children |
Matthew Mark | ||
Jaspar | Her husband | |
The Snow Man |
Scene:—A poor peasant dwelling, barely furnished with articles of the roughest description, a tressle-table, two benches,—a large one serving as a window-seat, and a smaller one standing by the hearth,—a wooden chair, a spinning wheel, a large bread pan, a shelf containing household crockery, and on the inner wall of the ingle a few pots and pans hanging on the wall. The room is wide and low; to the left is a deep hooded fireplace with containing walls on either side of it,—to one side a bread oven, to the other a cubby-bed with doors; opposite to the fireplace is a door leading to the woodshed. The house door is at the back rather to the right; in its left a long low window extends almost to a line with the fireplace. In the right hand corner stands a large chest. The roof is of heavy beams gray with smoke, and between them shows an inner surface of thatch, the walls are of blue plaster marked by mildew, with patches here and there where the plaster has peeled off. It is winter and daylight is drawing in. Outside the world is white with snow. A peasant-woman moves to and fro with quick dogged pace. The pace of a hard worker tired but always pushed for time. She takes black bread out of the oven, lays it out on the table, cuts off two pieces, and puts the remainder into the bread-pan. Then she takes down the garments from before the fire, presses them with a heavy iron, and puts them[Pg 6] away in the chest. While crossing the room to and fro she economizes her time, never going empty-handed. She puts milk to warm on the fire, and gets down two small mugs from a shelf. She also gets from the cubby-bed two night garments, and hangs them to warm over the bench by the hearth. While she is thus engaged, children’s voices are heard outside, laughing and shouting. The woman, absorbed in her work, pays no attention. Two small romping figures occasionally pass the window. Presently they begin to sing.
Children.—
(Now again)
(Now again)
(The door bursts open, the two children run in: Matthew Mark and Mary Ann.)
Mary.—
Matthew.—
Mary.—
Matthew.—
Joan.—
(She speaks in a good-humored scolding tone which the children seem not in the least afraid of. She goes and looks out)
Matthew.—
Mary.—
Matthew.—
(He rubs against her)
[Pg 8]
Joan.—
(Catches hold of Matthew)
(To Mary)
(Crosses the room)
Mary.—
Joan.—
Mary.—
Joan.—
(She goes out into the woodshed)
Matthew.—
(They run across to the window)
Mary. It’s no good, he don’t hear, he’s gone to sleep.
(Re-enter Joan.)
Joan. Ah, what are you up to there? Back you go, quick. Or else you’ll get the rod! (They skip back to the fireplace) Now you kneel down and say your prayers. “Pray God”——
(The two children kneel at bench with their backs to the fire.)
Children. “Pray God”——
Joan. (As she moves about folding up clothes, etc.) “Pray God make Baba good”——
Children. Pray God make Baba good.
Joan. “Give Baba bread.”
Children. Give Baba bread.
Joan. “Give all the hungry food”——
Children. Give all the hungry food.
Joan. “Peace to the dead.” (Crosses herself)
Children. Peace to the dead.
[Pg 10]
(Joan stands lost in reverie and speaks unconsciously by rote.)
Joan. “God bless”—(She turns and looks out)
Children. God bless—(They wait to be prompted)
Matthew. Say, muvver, shall we pray for the snowman too? Shall us? Shall us?
Joan. (Still musing) Nay, nay! You leave the snowman out! He knows his way—he knows his way.
Children.—
(Joan stands lost in her own thoughts. The children creep behind her toward the window.)
Mary. Good-night, snowman!
Matthew. Good-night!
(They approach Joan.)
Mary. Good-night, mother!
Joan. Good-night, darling!
Matthew. Night, mother.
Joan. Night-night, my dear,—night-night!
(Mary Ann goes and opens cubby-bed and begins to climb in. Matthew stops outside.)
Matthew.—
Joan. There, you get in! you’ve prayed enough to-night. (She goes to close doors)
Mary. Don’t shut it up yet, mother, leave a light.
Joan.—
(She leaves door of cubby-bed half open.)
Matthew. Sing, mother, will ye sing?
Joan. (Putting away the bread and the milk-mugs and folding up the strewn garments; starts to sing in a dull toneless voice with little tune)
(She goes and looks at the children and sees that they are asleep)
(While she sings, the firelight dies down and the light of the candle loses its warmth. Outside is a sound of rising wind, and the soft lash of snow against the pane. She goes and looks out of window)
(She shivers—three knocks are struck on the door)
(Another knock, very faint)
(Knock. The light burns blue. She opens the door. Pause. Slowly the snowman enters and moves across the room toward the bed)
(She interposes and lays hold of him. A cold rigour seizes her)
Snowman. Why do you touch me?
Joan. Why do you come here? Who are you?[Pg 13] Answer! (He again moves forward) No, you don’t go there! You shan’t, you shan’t come nigh of ’em.
Snowman. Take care! My touch is—cold!
Joan.—
(With a sort of exultation)
(Pause. The snowman lifts his hand and points toward the bed. Joan sees his meaning.)
Snowman. If you were dead?
Joan.—
Snowman.—
Joan.—
Snowman.—
Joan.—
[Pg 14]
Snowman.—
Joan.—
Snowman.—
Joan.—
Snowman.—
Joan.—
Snowman.—
Joan.—
Snowman.—
Joan.—
Snowman. Went? Where?
Joan. Nowhere. He roves about. Seeing the world, ’e calls it. Roving blood. That’s been ’is curse; and mind, ’is roving blood, it haven’t always roved. He liked his ease, he liked the victuals I give him well enough, he liked his fireside, and he liked his bed when I was by ’im. Ah! And then one day he’d ’ad enough of comfort, and was off,—looking for what? ’Ardship? He might have ’ad that ’ere if he’d but stayed. Aye, that ’e could—for it’s been ’ard enough—with they two there. Ah, you may look at ’em, they ’aven’t known trouble—yet they was with me all the time. Why, there’ve been days when I’ve not ’ad enough to eat myself. And what ’ave fed me? Just to ’ear ’em laugh and think they ’aven’t known. What do you look at me like that for? What do you know? What did you come for? Say!
Snowman. To bring you comfort.
Joan. Comfort? I’ve got no place for comfort in me now. It isn’t that I want—it’s rest.
Snowman. ’Tis rest I bring.
Joan. Where’s ’e?
Snowman. Here—near at hand. Come, come and do not be afraid. (He takes her hand)
Joan. Oh, dearie me. This feels like death. Like death!
[Pg 16]
(As they touch hands a mist draws over the stage, the walls of the house seem to fade away, the sound of the storm grows loud around them. They stand in a white world full of obscure movement and pale drifting forms.)
Snowman. What do you see?
Joan. A waste of snow.
Snowman. Anyone there?
Joan. No one I know. No—only you. What? You say you saw him on the road, coming? How do you know that it was ’im? Yes—yes—’e was like that. But younger, ’andsomer than that,—not lame——
(The snowman looses her hand, and she falls. The mist clears from a dark stage, the walls close in again, the chamber remains in darkness. A figure stumbles past the window, the door is[Pg 17] thrown open, the Snowman stands aside. Enter Jaspar.)
Jaspar.—
(Fumbles for match-box)
(Strikes a light)
(He lifts her onto the chair by the hearth and now holds the candle to her face, then draws away with a growing fear of what other deaths may be there. He advances to the crib, and looks in on the sleeping children. He assures himself that they are alive. It startles him to fresh hope; he turns back to his wife)
(He takes her to his heart)
(Her hand falls out across chair, pointing toward the crib)
(He bends and kisses her on the lips. The Snowman makes a pass toward her with his hand. She moves, and opens her eyes, all dazed and dreaming)
Joan. Who’s that, who’s that got hold o’ me? Let go! I must go to ’im.
Jaspar. No, no, bide ’e still. Here’s Jaspar!
Joan. Jaspar!
Jaspar. Oh, you be alive! (He sinks down broken, with his head on her breast. She takes his[Pg 19] head in her hands stroking it softly. The Snowman moves slowly to the door, fades through it, and disappears)
Joan. So you’ve come back, I knew you’d come—some day. What’s this? (She touches the coat)
Jaspar. My coat. I found you lyin’ there cold, so I put it round yer. But you made no sign—until I thought as yer was dead.
Joan. Dead? Would I leave ’em? Leave my little ’uns?
Jaspar. Ah, there you do get home. It’s a true charge. It’s what I done.
Joan. You ’ad the roving blood. You couldn’t ’elp it.
Jaspar. It ain’t brought me no joy.
Joan.—
(They lie still in each other’s arms. Dawn light begins to creep in. A sound of sliding snow is heard on the roof, a sharp twittering of birds; down across the window masses of snow fall in soft thunder. There follows a sound of dropping water: the thaw has begun. The outer world grows radiant with light. The doors of the cubby-bed fly open, the two children peep out. A soft but heavy crash of falling snow is heard. It strikes the door.)
Mary. Mother, what’s that? Get up, get up, it’s light! (Jumps out of bed, followed by Matthew) Oh, come and look! The snow’s all falling—right down off the roof. Look how it’s letting go!
[Pg 20]
Matthew. Oh, the snowman. Look at the snowman! Oh! (Opens door)
Mary. Mother, the snowman’s tumbled in the night.
(Joan opens her eyes.)
Joan. Hush, hush, don’t wake ’im. Come ’e and look ’ere.
(The children approach softly, curious and surprised.)
Mary. Who is it, mother?
Joan. The snowman, my dear. He’s come to stay.
CURTAIN.
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CHOOSING A CAREER, by G. A. de Caillavet. Written by one of the authors of “Love Watches.” A farce of mistaken identity, full of humorous situations and bright lines. Price 25 Cents.
FRENCH WITHOUT A MASTER, by Tristan Bernard. A clever farce by one of the most successful of French dramatists. It is concerned with the difficulties of a bogus-interpreter who does not know a word of French. Price 25 Cents.
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THE ROMANCERS, a comedy in three acts, by Edmond Rostand. New translation of this celebrated and charming little romantic play by the famous author of “Cyrano de Bergerac” and “Chantecler.” Price 25 Cents.
THE MERCHANT GENTLEMAN (Le Bourgeois Gentil-homme), by Moliere. New translation of one of Moliere’s comic masterpieces, a play which is peculiarly well adapted to amateur production. Price 50 Cents.