Seeing the Elephant

SEEING THE ELEPHANT

Silas Somerby, a Farmer, occasionally addicted to the bottle.

Harry Holden, his right-hand Man.

Bias Black, a Teamster.

Pat Murphy, a Laborer.

Johnny Somerby, Silas’s Son.

Rachel Somerby, his Wife.

Sally Somerby, his Daughter.

Silas, dark pants, short, thick boots, yellow vest, a towel pinned about his neck, gray wig, face lathered.

Harry, gray pants, blue shirt, black neckkerchief, dark coat.

Bias, thick boots, blue frock, woolly wig, black face, long whip.

Pat Murphy, in shirt sleeves, blue overalls, cap, wig.

Johnny, close-cut hair, pants of his father’s, rolled up at bottom, drawn up very high with suspenders, thin coat, short and open, very broad brimmed straw hat.

Rachel and Sally, neat calico dresses.

Scene. —Room in Somerby’s House. Old-fashioned sofa, R.; table, C., laid for breakfast. Harry seated R. of table, eating; rocking-chair, R. C. Sally seated, L., shelling peas or paring apples. Entrances, R., L., and C.

Sally. (Singing.)

Harry. Beautiful, beautiful! “There’s music in that air.” Now take a fresh roll, and keep me company while I take another of your mother’s delicious fresh rolls.

Sally. Making the sixth you have devoured before my eyes!

Harry. Exactly. What a tribute to her cooking! She’s the best bred woman in the country. Her pies are miracles of skill; her rolls are rolls of honor; her golden butter is so sweet, it makes me sweet upon her.

Sally. Well, I declare, Harry Holden, that’s poetry!

Harry. Is it? Then hereafter call me the poet of the breakfast table. My lay shall be seconded with a fresh egg.

Sally. Another? Land sakes! you think of nothing but eating.

Harry. Exactly, when I’m hungry. My hunger once appeased, I think of this good farm – the broad fields, mowing, haying, the well-fed cattle, and sometimes, when I am very hungry, I think of the time when I leaned over the fence, and gazed enchanted upon the pretty girl milking her cow – whose name was Sally.

Sally. Eh – the cow?

Harry. Now, Sally, don’t destroy the poetry of my language.

Sally. Don’t be ungrammatical, Harry; and do stop talking nonsense.

Harry. I will, for my breakfast is finished, and I can talk to you no longer. I’m off. (Sings.)

(Rises.) Ah, I little dreamed, two years ago, when I was playing the fine gentleman at Squire Jordan’s, – a city swell, up in the country here on a vacation, – that I should soon become a farmer.

Sally. Are you sorry it is so, Harry?

Harry. (Comes down, places a cricket beside Sally, and sits on it.) Sorry, you gypsy, when it has made a man of me? No. It has been my salvation. I have a fortune left me, and was in a fair way of squandering it in all the vices of the city; had acquired a taste for hot suppers, fine wines, gambling, and all sorts of dissipation; was on the high road to ruin, when some good angel sent me up here. I saw you, and was saved.

Sally. And you are perfectly contented with your situation?

Harry. Well, no, I’m not. In fact, I’m getting very much dissatisfied.

Sally. Not with me, Harry?

Harry. With you? Bless your dear little heart! you’re the only satisfaction I have. When I asked the old gentleman – your father – to give you to me, two years ago, he said, “No, young man. Though I’ve no doubt you love my Sally, you’ve got too much money. You never worked a day in your life. Suppose your wealth should take to itself wings some day, what’s to become of her? She shall be a farmer’s wife, or die an old maid. You say you would die for her. Go to work, learn to run a farm, bring out your muscle, get some color in that pale face, get rid of your vices, and then, if your money goes, you’ve the power to earn a living, and a smart wife to help you.”

Sally. That’s just what he said, and ’twas good advice.

Harry. It was, though I did not think so at the time. But I took it, hired out to him, and now thank my good fortune for the copy he set me.

Sally. And everybody says there’s not a more likely farmer in the neighborhood than you.

Harry. Much obliged to everybody. But, Sally, I think your father is a little selfish.

Sally. Don’t abuse father. He’s the most generous man —

Harry. I know. But I’ve grown valuable to him. And now, when I ask him to let me marry you, he “hems” and “haws,” and says, “Don’t be in a hurry. Have patience.” He knows that the moment you are my wife, I shall pack up and be off; and that’s what’s the matter.

Sally. It will all come right one of these days.

Harry. I suppose it will. But it don’t come right now. I tell you, Sally, I’m going to have an answer this very day, or to-morrow I’m off.

Sally. Off? And leave me?

Harry. O, no. Take you with me. You love me – don’t you, Sally?

Sally. You know I do, Harry.

Harry. Then marry me. I’ll make you the happiest woman in the world. I’ll carry you to an elegant home, and scatter money in every direction, to bring around you luxuries and enjoyments.

Sally. No, Harry; I could enjoy nothing, leaving my father without his consent. I have always tried to be a good daughter. He would be very angry, should I disobey him, and no good fortune would follow me. No, Harry. Be patient. There’s a good time coming.

Harry. Yes, it’s always coming. But I shall ask his consent to-day.

Sally. Do, Harry. I hope he’ll say yes, for you deserve it. (Puts her arm about his neck.)

Harry. And you deserve the best husband in the world, you gypsy. (Puts his arm round her waist, and kisses her.)

Johnny. Christopher Columbus! O, hokey! (Sally and Harry jump up.) Did you hear it?

Sally. Hear what? Why don’t you frighten a body to death, and have done with it!

Johnny. Somebody fired off something close to my head. Blunderbuss, I guess. Did it hit you, Sally?

Sally. I didn’t hear anything.

Johnny. Didn’t you feel it? Must have hit yer right in the mouth. It’s awful red!

Harry. Come, Johnny, there’s enough of that. I don’t like it.

Johnny. Don’t you, though? Thought you did. Seemed to take to it nat’ral nuff. Where’s dad?

Sally. He is not up yet. (Sits and resumes her work. Harry goes to chair, back, and takes up his hat.)

Johnny. Guess he’s kinder sleepy after his jaunt to the city yesterday. Guess the coppers are hot! O, won’t he catch it?

Harry. Why, what’s the matter?

Johnny. Matter? Say, thought you was goin’ down with me after that woodchuck this mornin’. Don’t see what a feller wants to fool away his time here with a gal for, when there’s a woodchuck to be got so handy.

Mrs. S. I’ll woodchuck yer! (Taking him by the ear.) What d’ ye mean by keeping out er the way all the morning – hey?

Johnny. O! Quit, now! You hurt!

Mrs. S. Hope I do. You jest stir out er this room till I’ve done with yer, if you dare! (Sits in rocking-chair, and rocks violently.) Sakes alive! It’s enough to drive one ravin’ distracted! There’s yer father sleeping like a log, and it’s arter eight o’clock! Where did you two critters go yesterday – hey?

Johnny. Went to the city, of course.

Mrs. S. Yes, yer did go to the city with a load of live and dead stuff; and there’s that man in there, with not a cent in his pocket to show for it. He’d a never got home at all if the brute in the shafts hadn’t known more than the brute in the wagon. Drunk clean through!

Harry. What! Has Mr. Somerby had another spree?

Mrs. S. I should think he had! They come thicker and thicker. – You young one! you speak up, and tell me what you know ’bout it, quick!

Johnny. Well, all I know, dad an’ I went to market. He sold off everything, and then sent me down to Scudder’s to git a new rake, and over to Jinks’s for some sugar, and round to Stevens’s to borry a screw-driver, cos something got loose.

Mrs. S. Somethin’ got loose! I should think so!

Johnny. Said he’d wait till I come back. When I got back, he hadn’t waited; so I went tearin’ round arter him. Man in a white hat said he saw him goin’ down onto the wharf to see the elephant; so I went down. Big crowd down there. They was a auctioneering off a lot of animals. Lion, tiger, and monkeys – Jemimy! – by the dozen. Purty soon I spied dad. He was sprung.

Mrs. S. Sprung? For the land sakes! what’s that? Not overboard?

Johnny. Sprung – over the bay.

Mrs. S. Over the bay? Thought he was on the wharf. Now, don’t yer lie, you young one!

Harry. He means he was in liquor.

Mrs. S. More likely liquor in him. Why don’t you say he was drunk, and have done with it?

Johnny. Well, he was pretty full; and when I got there, he was leanin’ up agin a hogshead, and biddin’ on an elephant.

Mrs. S. On an elephant! Why, he might have broke his neck!

Johnny. O, fush! He was a biddin’ for the elephant. He offered a hundred dollars. But I didn’t see it; so I jest took a hold er him, h’isted him inter the wagon, and drove back to Stevens’s. When I come out, the wagon and dad were out of sight, and I had to foot it ten miles. So I jest crept inter the barn when I got here, and had a snooze on the hay.

Mrs. S. Dear me! what capers! Two or three times a year he has these sprees, and they cost a mint of money. There was apples and cider, hens and chickens, eggs and butter, all gone. Dear me, what will become of us? If there’s anything in this world I detest, it’s a toper!

Sally. Poor mother, she’s in a fever of excitement. I’ll try and get her to lie down.

Johnny. I say, Mr. Holden, it’s purty hard sleddin’ for marm – ain’t it?

Harry. It is, indeed, Johnny; and don’t you make it any harder for her. Never touch a drop of liquor.

Johnny. O, don’t you fret about me. I feel bad enough to see dad on these times. I’m a purty rough boy, but it does make me feel mean to see dad, who’s such a smart old gent when he’s sober, let himself out in this way. I’ve never touched a drop of liquor, and you can bet your life I never will.

Harry. That’s right, Johnny. Drinking is the meanest kind of enjoyment, and the dearest, too. I’m going to try and reform the old gentleman.

Johnny. Are you? Well, you’ve got a big job.

Harry. Perhaps not. His bidding for the elephant has given me an idea.

Johnny. It gave me an idea he was purty far gone.

Harry. Yes. We will make him believe he bought the elephant.

Johnny. What good will that do?

Harry. I think we’ll turn the animal into a temperance lecturer. Come with me. Let’s see your mother and Sally, and arrange matters before your father appears.

Johnny. Yes. But I want ter go after the woodchuck.

Harry. Never mind him now. We’ve got bigger game – the elephant.

Silas. I’m in an awful state. My hand shakes so I can’t shave; my throat is all on fire, my head splitting, and I feel mean enough to steal. Wonder how I got home! Guess I’ve been and made a fool of myself. I ain’t got a copper in my pocket; and I know when I sold out I had over a hundred dollars in my wallet. (Takes out wallet.) Looks now as though an elephant had stepped on it. An elephant? Seems to me I saw one yesterday in teown. Jest remember biddin’ for him at auction. Lucky I didn’t buy him. ’Twas that plaguy “Ottawa beer” set me goin’. Well, I s’pose I shall catch it from the old lady. But it’s none of her business. ’Twas my sarse and my live stock, and I’ve a right to jest what I please with it.

Mrs. S. Silas Somerby! are you a man, or are you a monster?

Silas. Hey? Ha, ha! Yes, I don’t look very spruce, that’s a fact. The water was cold, and the razor dull, and – and —

Mrs. S. And your hand shakes so you can’t shave. O, Silas, Silas! At your time of life! I blush for you!

Silas. O, bother, now! What are you frettin’ ’bout? I ain’t killed anybody, or robbed anybody’s house – have I?

Mrs. S. You’ve done somethin’ as bad. You’ve been on a spree, and squandered every cent you had in your pocket.

Silas. S’pose I did? Ain’t a hard-working man a right to enjoy himself once in a while, I’d like to know? Now you jest shet up! I’m the master of this farm, and if I choose to show a liberal spirit once in a while, and help along trade by spreading a little cash about, it ain’t for you to holler and “blush – ”

Mrs. S. Silas Somerby!

Silas. Shet up! if you don’t, I’ll harness up old Jack, and clear out.

Mrs. S. For another spree? O, you wretch! ain’t you ashamed of yourself, to set sich an example to the young uns? And that critter you sent home! Do you want us to be devoured?

Silas. Critter! critter! What critter?

Mrs. S. O, you know well enough; and I guess you’ll find you’ve made a poor bargain this time. I always told you rum would be your ruin; and if you don’t see the poorhouse staring you in the face afore night, I’m very much mistaken.

Silas. What on airth are yer talking about? Are yer crazy, or have yer been drinking?

Harry. (Comes down between them.) Hush! not a word! We must not let anybody know you are in the house!

Silas. Hey! what ails you? Got a touch of the old lady’s complaint?

Harry. Hush! Not so loud! We must be cautious. Sheriff Brown is looking for you; but I’ve put him off the scent.

Silas. Then oblige me by putting me on it. What’s the matter? Why is the sheriff looking for me?

Harry. Hush! Not so loud! It’s all about him. (Pointing over his left shoulder.)

Silas. Him! him! Consarn his picter! who is him?

Harry. Hush! Not so loud! I’ve got him locked up in the barn. He got into the melon beds; they’re gone: then into the cucumbers; he’s pickled them all. But I’ve got him safe now.

Johnny. By Jinks! the critter’s hauled the sleigh down from the rafters; broke it all to smash!

Sally. O, mother, he’s stepped into your tub of eggs, and there ain’t a whole one left.

Mrs. S. I told you so. O, Silas, how could you?

Silas. Are you all crazy? Who has trampled the melons? Who has pickled the cucumbers? Who has smashed the sleigh? And who has sucked the eggs? I pause for a reply.

All. (In chorus.) Your elephant!

Silas. My elephant? My elephant? Pooh! Nonsense! I don’t own any such critter.

Johnny. Say, dad, have yer forgotten the auction yesterday – the tiger, and the monkey, and the elephant?

Silas. What? Stop! O, my head! It must be so. Did I buy that elephant?

Harry. He is in the barn, Mr. Somerby.

Silas. I’m a ruined man! (Sinks into chair L. of table.) Is he alive?

Mrs. S. He ought to be, with half a ton of hay inside him.

Silas. O, my hay! my hay!

Johnny. And a barrel of turnips.

Silas. O, ruin! ruin!

Sally. And a whole basket of carrots.

Silas. I’ll shoot him! I’ll shoot him!

Johnny. That’s easier said than done, dad. Them critters die hard; and we ain’t got the cannon to bombard him with.

Harry. Come, Johnny, let’s look after him. I’m afraid he will get into more mischief. Will you have a look at him, Mr. Somerby?

Silas. Look at him? Never! Find me a way to get rid of him, quick!

Harry. That’s not such an easy matter. Nobody would take the gift of him; and nobody but a fool would buy him.

Mrs. S. That’s a fact. O, my eggs! my eggs! Eighty dozen, all ready for market!

Sally. Law sakes! that elephant has made me forget the breakfast things. (Clears away the table, carrying things off, L.)

Harry. I suppose you want him to have plenty of hay?

Silas. (Fiercely.) Feed him till he splits, or dies of indigestion!

Johnny. Say, dad, he’ll be grand, if we can only put him to the plough.

Silas. (Fiercely.) Clear out, yer jackanapes!

Mrs. S. I’ll go and look after the poultry. If he gets in among ’em, good by to Thanksgiving. It’s all right, Silas. It’s a pretty big critter to have about; but it shows “a liberal spirit” – don’t it?

Silas. Shut up! Clear out! – Wal, I guess I brought home a pretty big load last night, accordin’ to the looks of things. Now, what on airth set me on to buy that elephant? Must have been the Ottawa beer. What on airth shall I do with him? He’ll eat us out of house and home. If I kill him, there’s an end of it. No, the beginnin’, for we’d have to dig up the whole farm to bury him. But he must be got rid of somehow. O, Somerby, you’ve a long row to hoe here!

Harry. Now, sir, let us look this matter calmly in the face. (Sits R. of table.)

Silas. What matter?

Harry. Well, suppose we call it “consequential damages.”

Silas. Call it what you like. It’s a big critter, and should have a big name.

Harry. You don’t understand me. I told you Sheriff Brown was looking for you. There are about a dozen complaints lodged against you already. This is likely to be a costly affair.

Silas. Sheriff Brown – complaints – costly affair! Why, what do you mean? Isn’t it bad enough to be caught with an elephant on your hands?

Harry. Well, your elephant, not being acquainted in this part of the country, got out of the road a little in travelling towards his present quarters. For instance, he walked into Squire Brown’s fence, and carried away about a rod of it.

Silas. You don’t mean it!

Harry. And, in endeavoring to get back to the road, walked through his glass house, and broke some glass.

Silas. Goodness gracious!

Harry. Mr. Benson’s flower garden, being near the road, was hastily visited by his highness, and a few of the rare plants will flourish no more.

Silas. O, my head! Is that all?

Harry. No, for Mrs. Carter was on the road with her span. On the appearance of the great hay-eater, one of the horses dropped dead.

Silas. O, ruin, ruin! Why didn’t the elephant keep him company?

Harry. These parties have made complaint, and will sue you for damages. There are other disasters connected with the entry of your pet —

Silas. Don’t mention ’em. Don’t speak of any more. There’s enough now to ruin me. Broken fences, smashed hot-houses, ruined flower beds, and a dead horse!

Harry. Consequential damages.

Silas. Consequential humbugs! I am the victim of a conspiracy. I don’t own an elephant. I won’t own him. I never bought him. He’s escaped from a menagerie. Why should I buy an elephant?

Harry. That won’t do, Mr. Somerby. You were seen at the auction; you were heard to bid for the animal. I’m afraid you will have to suffer.

Silas. I won’t pay a cent. They may drag me to jail, torture me with cold baths and hot irons; but not a cent will I pay for the capers of that elephant.

Bias. Hay! What’s dat? Am yer gwine to ’pudiate, Massa Somebody? Gwine back on de ber – ber – bullephant – am yer?

Silas. What’s the matter with you, Bias Black?

Bias. Wal, I speck a heap, Massa Somebody. Dat ar bullephant of yourn has driben dis indervideral inter bankrupturicy. Dar’s been a reg’lar smash up ob his commercial crisis, and de wabes ob affliction are rollin’ into dis yer bussom.

Silas. Now, yeou black imp, talk English, or walk Spanish, quick! What do yeou want?

Bias. Want damages, heavy damages; dat’s what I want, Massa Somebody.

Silas. Damages for what?

Bias. Wal, hold yer hush, an’ I’ll tell yer. Las’ night I was gwine along de road, see, wid my hoss and wagon chock full, an’ ole Missey Pearson sittin’ alongside ob me – picked her up in de road. Pore ole lady! Guess she won’t ax any more rides! An’ jes’ when I got by Square Jones’s door, den dar was an airthquake, by golly! Somethin’ took right hole ob de tail-board. Felt somethin’ h’ist. Knowed ’twas a shock; and de nex’ ting I knowed, I was up in a tree! Missey Pearson was h’isted onto de fence, an’ dat ar bullephant was a chasin’ dat ar hoss ober de wagon, an’ a trampin’ round an’ chawin’ up things fine, I tell yer. Golly! such a mess! Dat’s what de matter. Lost eberyting. Wouldn’t a taken sebenty-five dollars for dat ar wagon. An’ dat ole lady, guess she’s shook all to pieces.

Silas. And you expect me to pay for this!

Bias. Ob course, ob course. If old gents will sow dar wild oats wid bullephants, dey must expect to pay for de thrashin’. Sebenty-five dollars for de wagon, sixty-seben dollars and ninepence for de goods, an’ about fifty dollars for de scare to dat pore ole hoss. I’ll trow de ole lady in.

Silas. I’ll throw yeou inter the horse-pond, yeou black imp! Not a dollar will yeou get from me.

Bias. Hey! You won’t pay? Den I’ll hab de law. Yes, sir. I’ll hab a jury set onto you, an’ – , an’ – an’ – a judge, and two or three habus corpuses. You can’t fool dis chile. Dar want no muzzle on de bullephant, an’ it’s agin de law.

Silas. Well, go to law. I shan’t pay a cent.

Pat. Where’s the kaper of the brute, I’d like to know? Where’s the hathin that sinds wild bastes a rarin’ an’ a tarin’ into the paceful quarthers of the globe?

Silas. What’s the matter with yeou, Pat Murphy?

Pat. Aha, owld gint, ’tis there ye are. It’s a mighty foine scrape yer in this time, wid yer drinkin’ an’ rollickin’.

Silas. Come, come, Pat Murphy, keep a civil tongue in your head.

Pat. O, blarney! It’s an ondacent man ye are, by me sowl! Wasn’t I sittin’ on my own doorstep last night, a smokin’ my pipe genteelly, wid de childers innercently amusin’ theirselves a throwin’ brickbats at one another, an’ Biddy a washin’ in the yard (as beautiful a picture of domestic felicity as ye don’t often say), when an oogly black snout kim over the fence, an’, afore ye could spake, away wint the fence, an’ away wint Biddy into the tub, an’ the childers into the pig-pen, an’ mesilf ilevated to the top of the woodshed by that same oogly black baste!

Harry. Ah, the elephant on another frolic!

Pat. Frolic – is it? Bedad, it must be paid for, ony how. An’ so, owld gint, I’ll jist throuble yez for the damages – to mesilf, a broken constitution, Biddy, a wake’s washin’ intirely spoiled, and the childers, bliss their dirthy faces! for a scare, an’ the fright to the pig, an’ the broken fence. Come down, owld gint. Them as jig must pay the piper.