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An exhaustive study of this topic can be found in Anton Wagner's Frederick Jacobi and Herman Voaden: The Prodigal Son.
THE PRODIGAL SON
Opera in Three Acts Based on Four Early American Prints
Text by Herman Voaden. Music by Frederick Jacobi.
The scene is laid in America in the early Nineteenth Century.
Characters:
Robert, the Prodigal Son Tenor
His Father Baritone
John, his brother Bass-baritone
Nancy, his sister Soprano
Ruth, his sister Mezzo-soprano
The Traveller Baritone
Hope Nightingale Soprano
Belinda, her maid Mezzo-soprano
Sylvia Slender, Gilda, Frederick Dancing Characters
The Cynic Baritone
Johnny Appleseed Baritone
Tom Rice, a trapper Tenor
His two nephews Soprano and Mezzo-soprano
Neighbours, servants,
a few boon companions, a waiter
The Prodigal Son received its first complete stage premiere by the Recreation Commission of the Village of Forest Hill at the Forest Hill Collegiate Auditorium in Toronto on March 23 and 27, 1954. Subtitled “An Opera in Four Acts Retelling the Biblical Story in an Early American Setting,” the opera’s program credits were as follows:
Music: Frederick Jacobi
Libretto: Herman Voaden
Direction: Jack McAllister
Choreography: Gweneth Lloyd
Chorus: The English Madrigal Singers, under the direction of John Sidgwick
Robert, the Prodigal Son Gordon Wry
His Father Don Garrard
John, his Brother Bernard Turgeon
Nancy, his Sister Patricia Snell
Ruth, his Sister Margaret Stilwell
The Traveller Alexander Gray
Hope Nightingale Zilba Georgieva
Belinda, her Maid Jean-Marie Scott
Sylvia Slender Anna Wilmot
Gilda Terry Johnson
Frederick Victor Duret
The Cynic Ted Reynolds
Johnny Appleseed Don Brown
Tom Rice, a Trapper William Harper
His two nephews Peter Wreglesworth, Manley Stark
The Servants Allan Zielonka, Russel Heise
The Neighbours Pat McFarquhar, Martha Corson, Wilda Judson, Harold Ross, John Coulson, Alan Paul
Dancers Joan Roberts, Chuck Chandler, John Bayliss
Chorus: Robin Patterson, Rae Reilly, Marjorie Kennedy, Mary Sidgwick, Mrs. Margaret Tomkinson, Isobel Gould, Mrs. Magdalene Jaeckell, Mabel Capling, Pat Salter, Reta McWhinney, Margaret Leake, Mr. and Mrs. M. Atkinson, Eva Wright,Wilfrid Gallimore, Donna Haley, Wilber Sisson, John Clark, Chad Bennett, Tom Brown, Ken Jarvis.
At the two pianos: Irene Jacobi and George Brough
ACT I
The Prodigal Son Receives His Patrimony
Pastorale (pantomime):
Autumn scene outside a prosperous farm home in the United States, early Nineteenth Century.
The steps and portico of the house upstage; trees and shrubbery elsewhere. Late afternoon. Servants cross and recross the stage, carrying fruits and vegetables; overflowing bounty, rich contentment.
Robert and his father enter, arm in arm, from the garden.
The Father enters the house.
A trapper comes in and has a short scene with Robert in which he shows him his furs and some of these Robert buys.
The trapper leaves.
Simultaneously the father re-enters from the house. John, Nancy and Ruth come in from the garden.
Robert greets his sisters and brother. The father embraces his children and the family is united in the centre of the stage. End of Pastorale.
Father:
(Spoken)
My children! God has been good to us.
Great is our debt to him.
Again the fruits of harvest are around us:
The bounty of the year:
The ripened corn,
The bins, with yellow grain overflowing,
The orchard boughs
Weighed to the good brown earth,
The ripeness and the goodness everywhere.
Truly we are blessed, my children.
(He kisses his elder daughter, Ruth)
You, my daughter,
Have made my home a place of peace and gentleness
Since that sad day on which your Mother died.
(To his younger daughter, Nancy) My happy child!
(To John) My son, you follow in my footsteps,
Faithful and good.
(To Robert) And you, my boy, for whom I have such hopes!
For all of you, and my great blessings, I give thanks.
Robert:
(Sung)
Father!
Father:
(Turning) What, my son?
Robert:
Father, I had in mind to speak to you today.
Father:
Of what, my son?
Robert:
I had in mind to speak to you today.
Ruth:
(Gesturing to her brother to keep silent) Oh, not today Robert. Don’t speak of that today.
(In the distance we hear the sound of a fiddle, with laughter and cheerful talk. Nancy runs down left and looks off).
Nancy:
(Spoken)
It’s Thomas, father, and all the neighbours.
They’ve come to wish you happy birthday.
The Neighbours:
(Entering; Spoken)
We’ve come to wish you happy birthday.
We wish you happy birthday, sir.
Happy birthday! Happy birthday! Happy birthday!
(Robert has turned away down right, brooding and restless. Ruth watches him go, then turns to the revellers as they come in).
Country dance.
Neighbours:
(Sung)
We wish you happy birthday, Friend and Neighbour.
We wish you happy birthday, Neighbour, Friend.
We wish you joy.
Joy without end.
We wish you happy birthday, Neighbour, Friend.
Nancy:
What a pleasant surprise! How pleasant! How gay!
Dance Leader:
Swing your partner!
John:
I wonder who told them that today was father’s birthday.
One never knows how these things leak out.
Dance Leader:
Swing your partner! Turn your lady!
Ladies right, ladies left!
Nancy:
How pleasant! How gay!
Men Neighbours:
Happy the man who lives on the hill.
Wishing him kindly, never an ill.
Wishing him kindly, never an ill.
Happy the man who lives on the hill!
Chorus of Women:
We wish you happy birthday, Friend and Neighbour,
We wish you happy birthday, Neighbour, Friend.
We wish you joy,
Joy without end.
We wish you happy birthday, Neighbour, Friend.
Father:
My good friends:
Seventy years ago I was born here.
Here I have laboured among you, my life long,
Happy in your friendship and the love of my family.
Thank you, one and all, for your kindness
In remembering me today.
Neighbours:
Good old John!
Hurrah for Mr. Randall!
A Good neighbour!
A good friend, and a good father!
Hurrah for Mr. Randall!
(The dance is resumed. Exit of the neighbours. The older neighbours shake the father’s hand and bow to Ruth, who stands beside her father. John may also be with them. The last of the youthful dancers whirl off with the fiddler, waving, and calling goodbye. One old friend may wait until most of the neighbours have gone before he turns to the father to wish him goodspeed.
As the sounds of the music retreat in the distance the father, Ruth and John go in. Ruth may appear and call to Nancy, who is watching the merry-makers dance down the road. Nancy skips in. Ruth may call: “Are you coming, Robert?” to which he would reply: “In a moment.” She and Nancy go in, and Robert is left alone on the stage as the last sounds of the fiddle and laughter are silent.
Now the voice of the peddler, or traveller, is heard off stage, calling his wares in a merry song. He comes on stage, followed by three or four of the girls, who have encountered him and have been attracted by his bright trinkets.
The peddler is a waggish yet unsavoury character. Robert is drawn to him and his wares.)
The Traveller:
Brushes, fine new brushes!
Brushes, brushes!
Fine new, fine new, fine new, fine new
Fine new brushes, bright and new
Just the thing for me and you.
I’ve got the big ones, small ones,
Fat ones, tall ones.
Red and blue and green and black.
Just the thing to scratch your back.
I’ve got them ev’ry shape and almost every hue.
Ribbons, laces,
Flowers, faces,
Pictures, bonnets green.
I’ve got the finest pills for all your ills,
Silks and satins, frocks and frills.
I’ve got the finest shoes,
The latest news
For baby, baby, baby, baby,
The latest toy
For sonny boy,
For Ma and Papa’s sonny boy,
For Ma and Papa’s sonny boy,
For Ma and Papa’s sonny, sonny, sonny, sonny,
Sonny, sonny, sonny, sonny…
(He nudges Robert)
I’ve got the big ones, small ones,
Fat ones, tall ones.
Red and blue and green and black.
Just the thing to scratch your back.
I’ve got them ev’ry shape and almost every hue.
(To Robert meaningfully)
I’ve got some sweets at home
Will drive you crazy.
You’ll never want to roam
You’ll feel so lazy, lazy.
You’ll never want to roam,
You’ll feel too lazy, lazy, lazy.
You’ll never want to roam,
You’ll never want to roam,
You’ll feel too lazy, lazy,
You’ll never want to roam,
You’ll feel so lazy, lazy, lazy.
You’ll never want to roam.
La, la, la, la, la, la,
La, la, la, la, la,
La, la, la, la, la, la,
Brushes, fine new brushes,
Fine new brushes, brushes!
(Clapping his hands; Spoken) Well, my lads and lassies!
(He leers at one of the girls)
Hello Sweetheart!
What would you like, eh? What would you like?
Whatever it is, I’ve got it.
I’m quite a boy!
I’m the answer to a maiden’s prayer.
Ha-ha!
(He grins at Robert and smiles at the girl, who stands as if hypnotized, watching him).
She likes me.
She’s never seen the likes of me before.
(The girl turns and runs off, while he laughs heartily. To Robert.)
What can I do for you, young man?
You’re handsome, young fellow.
(The music resumes)
Robert:
I’d like this bonnet, please, and this scarf.
Traveller:
Sartinly. Thank ye. (He takes the bill that Robert offers). Thanks.
(Robert indicates by gestures that he should keep the change).
No change? Thanks.
I’ll warrant the girls like you, eh? (He pokes him in the ribs)
Ever go after a girl? You know?
Robert:
(Spoken)
No…I…
Traveller:
I know a couple would take a great shine to you.
Why don’t you come along with me?
We can use fellows like you in the city.
Robert:
I’ve been thinking of going away.
I’m not happy here. I want to see things, know things,
For myself.
Traveller:
Good. Come along. I’m going south tonight.
Three or four days we’ll be there. Maybe some
Adventures along the road.
There’s lots of hearty wenches looking for a good time.
Goo’bye. I’ll be waiting for you!
(He goes off, humming his song, laughing. Robert watches him go, breathing heavily, his eyes burning. Then to a violent outcry in the music, he shudders and covers his eyes with horror and disgust. When he sings, it is brokenly and with low intensity.)
Robert:
Shame, shame, O shame!
Lost in this vile desire,
This fever in my blood.
Am I my father’s son?
Aria:
Think of his grief,
His lonely grief,
If I should leave him,
And be no more his son,
No more his son,
As in the days gone by,
No more his son.
And not to know again
His sheltering love
And never feel again
The pleasantness of home.
The pang of loneliness,
As in the alien crowd I stand!
Oh! To be no more his son!
To be no more his son!
To know
Only the horizon road,
A never ending restlessness,
A road without an end!
Oh! To be no more his son,
To be no more his son!
And yet there is another life,
Exquisite, radiant!
With lovely flowers set
In perfumed hair,
Jewels, laughter.
Their mocking tender laughter,
Radiant, fair.
Their soft white hands,
Their lovely soft white hands.
Oh, I am sick for love!
What is this fever
That consumes like a flame?
Ah! What is this fire,
This all-consuming fire
That makes me sick for love!
If I could have my portion of his goods,
The portion that is truly mine,
I would be rich,
Famous,
Generous,
Beloved;
I should have all the things
That I have always hoped to have.
I would have friends among the great—
Statesmen, poets, philosophers.
I would astonish the world with my grandeur of life.
Be rich!
Be famous!
Be beloved.
Now, now is the moment to go,
To know the truth,
To seek the light,
To be free,
To dare and boldly live,
To see the unseen miracle.
Now is the moment to go!
(As Robert is about to enter the house, Ruth appears in the doorway).
Finale I:
Ruth:
You are leaving us…
Robert:
Yes.
Ruth:
When?
Robert:
Tonight.
Ruth:
Oh not tonight, Robert!
Not on your father’s birthday.
Not tonight, when he is so happy.
Robert:
Yes, tonight.
Don’t be sad, Ruth, I’m eager to go.
Ruth:
I know how much it means to you.
But father will not have you go.
If you do, against his will,
It will break his heart.
He loves you most of all.
Robert:
See! I have a present for you.
Ruth:
(Delighted) Oh!
Nancy:
(Entering lightly) Robert! Why have you not come in?
Robert:
A traveller just went by.
Nancy:
Oh! What a beautiful scarf!
Robert:
I bought it from the traveller. It’s for you.
Nancy:
It’s wonderful!
(She whirls and dances with it, admiring herself).
Thank you, Robert. (She kisses him)
(Ruth tries on her bonnet, demurely)
Robert:
(Gallantly, with a bow) Mademoiselles, vous etes charmantes.
Ruth:
Robert, you are so kind, so good!
Always you think of others,
Never of yourself.
But they are costly,
You know John says
You spend money too freely.
We love you for it,
All the girls do,
And for your free, easy, gallant ways.
But you should be more careful.
Robert:
Money means nothing to me.
I want friends.
I want to know of many things
I can never know here.
I want to be happy, popular, famous.
That’s why I gave you
Those little presents.
Ruth knows I’ve wanted to leave.
I’m going away tonight, with the traveller.
Ruth:
You will need money
To get started.
Robert:
I’m going to ask father
For my inheritance.
Nancy:
Not all of it?
Ruth:
No! Robert!
Robert:
Yes, I’ll need it.
If I am to have a fine home,
And many friends,
And make a name for myself.
He has my portion
In the iron box.
I shall ask him for it.
Ruth:
Oh Robert!
I feel so many things.
Please do not go.
Robert:
No, I must.
Never was I more certain of anything.
And I love you both,
And father,
Deeply…
And John…
But I must go.
Think of the things I shall see:
Swift clipper ships
Crowding the harbours,
Big shops
With all manner of goods
To astonish the eye,
And delight the heart.
Churches with spires
That arrow to the sky,
Great crowds,
All the glow and excitement.
The pulse of a new land opening up.
The wealth of millions pouring into cities.
Cities of wonder,
Cities of delight!
There will I live,
Be rich,
Know the happy crowds,
The gay, bright people.
(To Nancy, pretending she is a great lady)
Mademoiselle, je vous prie l’honneur de cette danse.
(They dance gaily, while Ruth laughs at them. The Father enters as the dance climaxes).
Nancy, Ruth and Robert:
(Together) Ah!
Father :
Bravo! How well you dance!
(After a moment)
What a bright scarf!
And a bonnet, too!
Nancy:
Aren’t they lovely?
Robert gave them to us.
Father:
(Gently and with a touch of humour)
Ah, my son!
Ever generous!
I know you give
Because your heart is kind.
And yet I fear
You will come to
No good end,
Unless you save your pence.
Remember:
A fool and his money
Are soon parted.
Robert:
Father,
Many times I have tried to tell you.
I am not content here.
I am weary of these dull and quiet days.
I am a prisoner,
Beating my heart out
Against invisible bars,
Your love the strongest of them.
Here I remain in your shadow
And in the shadow of my brother.
I am nothing!
The younger son!
I wish to leave tonight with the traveller.
And I should like to go as your son:
I pray you give me your blessing,
And the portion of your goods
That is owing to me,
That I may launch my fortunes
With dignity,
As our son.
Father:
Go not, my son!
Stay with us
This year, at least!
The cities are far!
And if you go
You will not soon return.
Go, and there will be an emptiness,
A break in the circle
Holding me against time and loss.
Go, and I shall no longer be complete,
My house will fall about me,
The days no more will be
As they have been.
Go not, my son!
Stay with us this year at least!
Oh, do not go, my son!
Not this year, at least!
Robert:
It is a cause.
Something bigger compels me.
Father, I grieve
To make you sorrow.
I love you,
But I must go!
Father:
(His anger rising)
I am quick to anger, boy.
I would it were not so.
It is for your own good
That I forbid you now to go.
John:
It is not good
To defy your father, Robert.
Consider wisely.
Honour him!
Father:
Impatient, foolish boy!
Unreasonable, ungrateful!
The inheritance is yours in trust.
In a few months you would waste it all.
It shall not be!
Go, if you will,
But go without my blessing!
Robert:
(Breathing heavily) Good!
I go without my inheritance,
Without your blessing.
But I go.
No longer a child.
A man!
Living my own life!
(Intensely, almost with tears)
I shall try to keep my heart from hate…
(Blindly) Oh, never! Come hate into my heart.
Ruth:
Father! (Nancy has turned away, crying)
John:
If it means so much to him
Let him go…
And give him his inheritance.
Father:
I should not have given way to anger.
You are my son.
I am older—
Shaken by this passion.
May you find that the best world is here.
May you come home again
Before I die.
We shall wait for you,
The door open,
Our love calling you home again.
(Pause).
Bring me the box.
The Prodigal Son Receiving his Patrimony
(Allegro agitato. John directs the servants, who bring out a table and chairs, and finally the iron box, studded with its big nails. Robert has consulted his sisters, who go into the house. The stage picture may now approximate the Kellogg print. The mood is one of sombre suspense, with the imminence of departure and the passion of the quarrel heightening it. The money is briefly counted out by the father: bundles of bills, and perhaps some gold and silver coin. This Robert puts into a large purse, almost like a satchel. See costume prints of the period.
The sisters reappear, with a bundle for Robert. Robert goes to them and kisses them in farewell. He turns toward John uncertainly. Suddenly John opens his arms and they embrace.
The father stands, holding in his hands a locket on a chain. He crosses to Robert slowly).
Father:
(Gruffly) Here…
Your mother’s picture…
Wear it.
Remember us.
Robert:
Father! (They embrace)
Father:
My son!
(Crescendo molto. Robert goes. The darkness increases. Stunned by what has happened, the Father, John, Ruth and Nancy remain as if transfixed in the deepening twilight. Each speaks in turn, revealing his inner thoughts).
Father:
I, too, knew
Long ago
The hungering of the young,
The questing,
The black waves of desire,
Beauty, swift and trembling,
And eager hope
Up-leaping.
Ah, my son!
My heart, with passionate longing goes with you.
Along the lonely miles
I send my strength to you.
Quartette of Father, Ruth, Nancy and John:
Father:
Young eagle,
Testing your wings!
May they be strong enough
To bear you
Over the sombre waters
Of passion and desire.
May they be strong enough
To bear you, young eagle.
See, I am strong
In the rich sturdy land.
I am secure,
With the oak and the pine.
I grow, I ripen in strength.
See, I am strong
In the rich, sturdy land.
Ruth:
Oh Robert, my brother,
Keep a clean heart!
Be always as good
As you are this day.
Be always as good
As you are this day.
Robert, my brother,
Keep a good hart!
Your far wonders
Are not for me…
I sigh for them…
It may not be.
We shall go on
Living quietly
Month after month,
Year after year.
We shall go on
Living quietly,
Year after year.
Nancy :
Dear Brother! It will be
A long time before I dance with you again.
How I wish I could go with you!
What marvellous sights you will see!
The ships, the harbours, the stores, the crowds.
We shall go on living quietly
Month after month, year after year.
We shall go on living quietly
Year after year.
John:
I, too, should like to go
But in me there is no fever…
No fierce longing!
What a fire consumes him!
Wonderful, terrible!
I am content,
If it must be,
Living here quietly,
Month after month,
Year after year.
We shall go on
Living quietly,
Year after year,
Year after year.
Father:(John and Ruth agree by signs to leave the father alone. Ruth and Nancy gently withdraw. John regards his father a moment with admiration and love, before he follows them).
The Prodigal Son Wastes His Substance
The Cynic:(Private room in an elegant “hot-spot” of Pre-Victorian America . The curtains open on an animated, jolly scene. Most of the ladies and gentlemen are dancing a polka. There is a table down right, at the head of which sits the Prodigal Son and his love, Hope Nightingale. She is a pert, impertinent witch, obviously playing up to him. There is a certain quaintness about the ladies and gentlemen, but they are self-centered, trivial, shallow, artificial people—interested in little vanities, gossips and foibles. They are aware of their gestures, of the tones they employ. In contrast to the characters in the other acts, they do not seem genuine or real. They glitter like pretty butterflies.
Robert imitates them and has almost become one of them. Only in the last moment of the act does he discover his real self again. Nevertheless, the ladies and gentlemen are likeable, refined and pleasant. The entire picture should be sparkling and bright.
To the right of the table, somewhat apart from the crowd, sits Philip, the Cynic. While the gay polka is danced, he speaks to the audience in light, amused, tolerant asides.)
The dance might be saved for later in the act. In this case the curtain might open on a scene of gambling).
The Cynic:(Now the polka whirls to its gay close. The dancers gather around the table. Amidst applause Philip rises to propose a toast to his friend).
(As he raises his glass, Hope Nightingale imitates the actions of the lady in the second print, pouring her champagne on his youthful head. Gales of laughter).
The Prodigal Son Revelling With Harlots
Robert:
Waiter! (The waiter appears)
Waiter:
Yes, sir.
Robert:
We need some more champagne. (Laughter)
Waiter:
Yes, sir.
The Cynic:
I marvel, Robert, at your munificence.
Will the well never run dry?
Robert:
(Paying the waiter as the wine is brought in).
Never, I hope.
Now sing for us, my Nightingale, my Hope!(His manner is bland, but it betrays his uneasiness. This is no time for gloomy thoughts. He fills Hope’s glass and they drink).
Hope:(Applause and cheers from the company. The music is already under way. Hope takes centre stage, but plays throughout for Robert).
Robert:(Vociferous applause, with Hope the darling at the moment. As the applause for the song dies down, one of the men calls for the dancer, Sylvia Slender. The name is taken up by others in the company, and finally by Philip, the Cynic, and Robert).
Belinda:(Sylvia’s Dance: The music has already started, and Sylvia begins her dance, followed by the admiring eyes of the company. She does her best to win Robert’s attention from Hope, her rival. It is, however, a good-natured rivalry. Encouraged by Hope, Robert becomes steadily more intoxicated as the dance proceeds. The entire company is happier, and there are whispers and laughing asides directed toward Robert.
Just as the dance is finishing, Belinda, Hope Nightingale’s coloured companion, bursts into the room or hall. She feigns a desperate and breathless grief, rushing to her mistress. In the scene that follows her acting and the reactions of the company must not be done so broadly as to become farce. They must be kept within the glittering and champagne-like temper of the act as a whole. Everything must be disciplined and under control—nothing overdone. The disaster song is sung without mawkish sentiment, archly, deftly, with tongue in cheek. It is sharply edged, and sung almost impersonally, objectively, but without unpleasantness.
The other members of the company quickly catch on to what is happening. They play up to Belinda. Only Robert is taken in by the deception).
Hope:(The ballerina faints. One of the gentlemen applies smelling salts. There is general consternation and sympathy).
Belinda’s Song: The conductor raps off. Belinda clears her throat and then gives him a sign to go on again.Belinda:
(He takes out his purse. There is a sudden check to his ardour when he sees how little it contains. He gives Hope three or four bills, returning the last to his wallet. Hope eyes it knowingly. He puts the purse in his vest pocket. Hope passes the money to Belinda).Belinda:
(He kisses her ardently, happily. Belinda has gone to the door, where she now makes a sign to, or calls, her mistress).
Hope:
(Spoken)
Dear Robert!
Please pardon me.
A word of counsel
To poor Belinda.
Robert:
(Spoken)
Only a moment!
Remember!
(Hope goes to the door, where, in pantomime, she congratulates Belinda. Belinda returns the money to her, and Hope gives her one of the bills. Belinda curtseys and exits, laughing, while Hope waves to her).Robert:
(The company applauds the request and the pas-de-deux, the Tarantella, begins. Meanwhile, Sylvia Slender has come to Robert. He fills their glasses. She sits on his knee and they drink. Hope returns to Robert, too, and sits on his other knee. The girls laugh, drink and flirt with him and watch the dance.Robert:
Either here or during the next short scene occurs a scene of pick pocketing. Sylvia takes out Robert’s watch from his vest pocket and admires it. As he turns to her, Hope swiftly removes his wallet from the other pocket, takes out the remaining bill and then, or at a convenient opportunity thereafter, replaces the wallet. Having done so, she is more than usually demonstrative to him, with an occasional triumphant glance at the Cynic. Robert, with both girls showering attentions on him is in a delirious seventh heaven of bliss. They may begin to indicate to the rest of the company, in merry whispers, that Robert is no longer wealthy. The dance ends).
The Cynic:(The waiter appears and exits again for the champagne).
Robert:(The waiter returns with the champagne. Robert opens his wallet to pay for it and finds that the wallet is empty).
Robert:(There is an outburst of laughter from the entire company).
Ladies and Gentlemen:(The music flows into the quick polka rhythm).
The Cynic:(Some of the dancers seize Robert, laughing as they do so, and dance with him at a whirling pace that makes him look foolish and desperate. The Cynic beckons to the waiter. He pays him and the waiter leaves.
The dancers pass Robert from one to the other. They quickly make a game of this, whirling him like a straw man. As they do so, they clean out his pockets, leaving him flapping. The ballerina proudly exhibits his watch and chain, her trophies. His coat may be stripped from him. His hair is tousled, his shirt is open, and he resembles a comic scarecrow).
A Lady:(The laughter of the company grows with the quickening tempo of the music. One of the ladies might be particularly affected by the sight of our luckless hero).
Robert:(At last Robert breaks from the ladies and turns to Hope, who has been watching the scene, drinking, amused. The music might become more subdued for a moment, so that the words are clearly heard, but the hollow, swift, delicate cruel tempo is maintained. If anything, it quickens now to the final explosion).
A locket! Oh Robert, you didn’t tell me.(Hope sees the locket. Her eyes light up greedily).
Ladies and Gentlemen:(Now their outcries and laughter begin against him. Only the Cynic refrains from denouncing him).
The Cynic:(They pull and push him toward the door. When it is opened, it may perhaps reveal a wintry scene. They shove and kick him out. As the door closes on him the dance rhythm breaks out overwhelmingly, joyfully, and the dance is resumed with merry laughter and wild abandon).
ACT III
Scene 1: The Prodigal Son in Misery
(When the curtains open the stage is filled with the grey light of dawn. It is the strange time between winter and spring. As yet there is no sign of growth in the bleak countryside. If there are bushes or trees, winter death is on them. The broken or gnarled shapes of the trees, the scrubby little bushes, perhaps a patch of dirty snow in the hollows. The entire scene, with its grey lighting, should suggest desolation and evoke pity. Upstage right or left there might be a little mound or hump, in which are set three or four of Johnny Appleseed’s seedlings.
The Prodigal Son is asleep by the trough where the swine come to be fed. His clothes are rags; his face is marked with sorrow.
The music is sombre and expectant for a little while. Then a serene note enters, perhaps reminiscent of the night music at the end of Act I. The Prodigal Son moves restlessly in his sleep, as if dreaming. Finally there is an outcry in the music, and he awakes. The moment should carry the sharp poignancy of an awakening from a sweet dream that dissolves even as we reach for it.)
The Prodigal Son In Misery
Robert:
Where am I?
What is this place?
Ah! It was but a dream of home
And distant loved ones.
Oh, what goodness, what kindness,
Once I knew!
What hope! Gone now!
What a fool I was to leave them!
Blind folly!
Stupid, blind fool!
I am cold.
I hunger.
For days I have hungered.
Nothing but these husks that the swine have left,
And remnants of food that are thrown to me.
Ah! There is a demon crying at me here!
(He grabs a husk from the rough and mouths it desperately, wolfishly).
Food!
I must eat!
Must eat!
(After a moment he gives over in disgust, dropping the husk).
Vile husk…filthy…
Better to starve, to die.
Oh, how wretched I am!
Oh, how low I have fallen!
Better to starve, to die,
Than to live so low!
Long ago, it seems,
I left the home I loved
To travel the horizon road.
I was young then—
Brave hope in my heart!
Dreaming the far worlds,
The splendour of life!
Voices calling me,
Sleeping and waking…
Shining tides bore me away
Toward the vision
Toward the light…
False vision!
False light!
When I sought truth I found falsehood.
When I sought light I found darkness.
When I sought freedom I bound myself in chains!
Wanderer, exile,
Stranger in lowly crowds.
A restlessness consumed me,
A blind and fruitless restlessness,
A never-ending restlessness.
Oh! How sick I was for love…
Ravishing beauty…jewels…laughter…
Fool! I knew them all.
I am content to die.
The earth is barren about me.
Grey-sodden, black and dun.
Its rains drench me.
A fever burns in me…
I cough, I starve,
Weaker each morning as I wake.
Oh, let me wake no more!
Loneliness enshrouds me,
It is the end.
I shall measure my grave in this mortal earth.
See! The morning comes.
And I shall wake no more.
(Not used in music score)
[I shall greet you, O sun,
For the last time.
Tomorrow you will shine…
I shall not see you.
I shall be in darkness
And it will be well.
The riddle of life is hard to solve.
I have blundered and lost my way.]
I am done…
I faint.
I can do no more.
Ah!
Johnny:(He faints. Robert’s attitude resembles that of the profound sleep in which we first saw him.
When sufficient musical preparation has been made, Johnny Appleseed, a quiet, almost supernatural figure, appears silhouetted in the morning light, which makes an aura around him. There is a golden, mellow change in the music, matching the gold and rose promise of the morning sky, and Johnny’s prophetic mission in our play. He is hatless and shoeless and wears his traditional coffee sack with holes for head and shoulders, and trousers that are ragged and far too short for him. His beard is long and scraggly and his long black hair falls over his shoulders. Altogether he looks like a primitive Christian, an odd patriarchal figure, slender, supple and strong, and bronzed with out-of-doors life. Over his shoulders he carried his bag of apple seeds.
He comes up over the hump upstage looking at his apple seedlings, then he sees Robert. For a moment he stands, looking down at him. Then he strides slowly to him and kneels beside him regarding him with compassion).
See, the sap already flowing(He goes upstage to the clump of little seedlings, and returns to Robert, showing him the green end of a twig which he has broken off).
Robert:(His face is shining…An American St. Francis of the Wilderness).
Ah, no.(He breaks off, falls to the ground, in a new wave of despair).
Song:(At this point something causes Robert and Johnny suddenly to prick up their ears: they hear something. It is the sound of a banjo, off stage, and the song of Tom Rice, the trapper, and his two nephews).
Song:(Tom Rice and his nephews come on the stage).
First Boy:(He pulls out two handfuls of nuts from the natural pouch made by his bloused shirt. The first handful goes to the smaller boy who is already smiling at him).
Tom:(As he crosses to Robert a smile of recognition appears on his face, followed by a puzzled look. He tries to recall where he has seen him).
(Johnny puts his let hand on Johnny’s shoulder and with his right clasps Robert’s hand in a touching farewell.
Robert, Tom Rice and the boys start off into the bright eastern sunlight while Johnny stands waving to them. He turns gently to his clump of seedlings and begins to prune them. Curtain).
ACT III
Scene 2: The Prodigal Son Returned to His Father
Father:(The setting is the same as for Act I. But instead of Autumn colours we have the greens and yellows of early spring. It is the moment before the sun sets, and the light falls in long golden lines across the smiling landscape.
Music begins as the curtains open. It is music that is grey, full of suspense and wistful desire. After a few bars the Prodigal comes slowly on stage—perhaps a poignant line in the music. He is weary, and in rags.
This is the long-awaited moment. But as he draws near, fears and doubts assail him, and he drops on the bench, overcome with weakness and pent-up emotions. The sun sets, and a
greyness descends on the stage.
Perhaps a light is turned on within the house. In his mind’s eye the Prodigal reviews his experiences, and is torn between a desire to join his family and the impulse to flee.
Then the door of the house opens. Still hesitant, he edges back into the shadows. Then, unable to bear the thought of facing his family, he retreats into the garden upstage.
The father comes down to the bench with Ruth and Nancy. Nancy may sit at her father’s feet, while Ruth stands beside him, or behind him. The pre-Victorian mood of the fourth sketch should be imitated. One of the girls has a lyre guitar in her hands).
Nancy and Ruth:(There is a cord from the lyre guitar as Nancy strikes her instrument. Then the two girls begin their duet. The song creates a quiet, expectant atmosphere).
Pantomime: The Return of the Prodigal(They turn to go into the house. It is almost dark now. The light in the portico is lit. They go in).
Pantomime—Part II:A servant crosses the stage. Another servant rushes up to him and whispers something into his ear. The servants may be men or women. A third servant appears; the other two depart. The third servant summons another and yet another of his comrades. After a time they may knock and enter the house, returning swiftly. There is mystery and suspense in the hurrying of the figures in the deepening twilight; there is excitement as the lanterns flash across the stage. The stage is alive with lights and movement, all anticipating Robert’s entry.
At a given moment the father appears in the doorway of the house followed by Nancy, Ruth and John. Robert has entered from the right, at the exit he used in Act I. He stands irresolutely, his back partly to the audience. He may be alone or he may be supported and urged on gently by one or two of the men servants who have recognized him. He is a frail, doubtful figure, illuminated, perhaps, by the galaxy of lights, lanterns which follow the father onto the stage. Robert and his father approach each other very slowly; there is a ritualistic quality to their encounter. Just before the climax Robert, perhaps two thirds of the way across the stage, runs to his father. At the climax he falls on his knees and embraces his father, as in the print. Slowly the father raises his son up.
The Prodigal Son Returned To His Father
Robert:
Father!
Father:
My son!
Robert:
Ashamed, I have come home
To work in the fields
With the poorest of your servants—
If you will have me.
Father:
Oh my son!
You were lost
And are found again.
Robert:
Ashamed, when I remember
How I went from you.
I have been foolish,
Unreasonable…
I thought the world was made for my pleasure.
My pride consumed me
Like a flame within,
Burning my heart out…
But now I find the faith and kindness
That shelter’d me
All the days of my youth.
Father:
Oh my son!
You were lost
And found again.
(Happily) My daughters,
Set out new clothes for him.
Call all the neighbours
And prepare a feast.
For tonight we rejoice
That he has returned.
Robert:
(Incredulous) A feast…
I, your son!
A feast…
How good you are!
Ruth!(He greets the servants, then turns to the family).
John:(Nancy runs upstage and brings down John, who has been standing moodily in the background).
John:(Robert, Nancy and Ruth go into the house. The servants leave).
Nancy:(John goes, unsatisfied. The music stops. The door of the house opens quietly and Nancy appears. She sees her father seated on the bench, head low, hand on his knees. She comes down to him).
Robert:(Now Robert appears and comes down to join them. Ruth follows him. They say nothing. After a moment he speaks, quietly, slowly, as with difficulty).
I went west, west(John enters and comes down stage. He is obviously moved by what he hears).
Father:(The neighbours arrive, and with them Tom Rice and his two nephews).
Tom Rice and Nephews:(The sound of a banjo is heard)
(Some of the neighbours and servants start swaying. There is a slight indication of dancing. Servants come out of the house, bringing a table and a long white table cloth. One should have the feel that the “Feast of the Fatted Calf” is about to begin).