Les Blancs

by Lorraine Hansberry

  EVERETT halts with his mouth open to speak to his father in outrage. MACON interrupts with a deliberately quiet note.

  BULLETT (TO MARIA) Get him to take these four times a day, if you can, Maria. (To HIRAM) Not three times and not five times—four.

  MARIA (Taking the bottle and going out with it) I will try, Macon, I will try. (To EVERETT as she passes him) Do try not to upset your father so, darling.

  (She kisses him lightly and pats his cheek and exits with the bottle) EVERETT moves to a window and stands looking out at the darkness in irritation. BULLETT clearly waits for MARIA’s distance and then looks at his patient as he starts to put his things away.

  BULLETT Well, Hiram—it’s all over.

  From the finality of his tone, EVERETT turns slowly to listen and stare at them and HIRAM, who also understands the opening remark, at once also winds up for a great and loud protest.

  No, I mean it. There’s nothing left to joke about and no more trusting to luck. It’s that bad.

  HIRAM stares hard at him and the protest starts to fall away as the gravity of his friend penetrates.

  As much as you hate reading, you have got to buy all the books you can and spend the rest of your life doing very little else. That’s all. I absolutely insist that you stay out of the fields.

  HIRAM Well, now, just a minute, Macon—

  BULLETT I’m sorry, Hiram—

  HIRAM Well, your being sorry doesn’t help me one bit!

  EVERETT Papa!

  BULLETT That’s all right, son.

  HIRAM What do you expect me to do with my plantation? Turn it over to him so he can turn it over to a pack of overseers?

  BULLETT Well, I hadn’t intended to get into that, Hiram, but since you ask me, I think it would be the best thing that could happen to the Sweet plantation. (Seeing that the remark has cut the man deeply, he tries to amplify in the most impartial and reasonable tone) You and I have to face the fact that this is a new era, Hiram. Cotton is a big business in a way it never was before. It you treat it any other way, you’re lost. You just have to adjust to that, Hiram. For the good of yourself and for the good of the South.

  HIRAM (Bitterly) That’s easy talk for a blue blood, Macon! We all know that you came from a long line of lace-hankied Bordeaux wine-sniffers, but I think you forget that I don’t.

  EVERETT (Hating most of all that he should raise the question) Papa, please!

  BULLETT (Coolly) I cannot imagine what makes you think I have forgotten. Certainly not your manners.

  EVERETT (Obligatory) Sir, I must remind you this is my father’s house.

  HIRAM (To EVERETT) Don’t you ever hush? I’m sorry, Macon, I was a little insulting and a little—

  EVERETT (Almost to himself, involuntarily) —common.

  This is clearly EVERETT’s anguish. all three men suffer a moment of extreme discomfort and MACON stirs himself for departure.

  BULLETT Well, that was an extraordinary meal as usual. That Rissa of yours is an eternal wonder.

  HIRAM Macon, tell me something. Don’t you have the gray hours, too?

  BULLETT The what?

  HIRAM The gray hours—you know what I mean, don’t sit there looking dumb. I call them the gray hours, you probably call them something else. That doesn’t matter. I know perfectly well you have them, whatever you call them. I think every man that draws breath on this earth has those hours when—well—when, by God, he wonders why the stars hang out there and this planet turns and rivers run—and what he’s here for.

  BULLETT Yes, I suppose we all do.

  HIRAM Then what happens, Macon, if it’s all a lie—the way we live, the things we tell ourselves?

  BULLETT Oh, come now, Hiram …

  HIRAM NO, I mean it—what happens if there really is some old geezer sitting up there, white beard and all—

  BULLETT I don’t think I’m so unready to meet my Maker, Hiram. I haven’t been the worst of men on this earth—

  HIRAM Macon—you own slaves.

  BULLETT Well, that’s not a sin. It was meant to be that way. That’s why He made men different colors.

  HIRAM Is it? I hope so, Macon, I truly hope so.

  BULLETT (Rising) Hiram, I really must get on. No, don’t call Maria. Harry can see me out. Good night, Everett.

  EVERETT Good night, sir.

  BULLETT (Touching his friend on his shoulder as he exits) Books and long afternoon naps. Good night, Hiram.

  HIRAM (Having become strangely quiet) Good night, Macon.

  (The doctor exits)

  EVERETT (Turning on him savagely as soon as the man is out of sight) Papa, why must you insist upon eternally bringing up your “humble beginnings”—

  HIRAM (Sighing) Good night, son. I want to be alone. I am tired.

  EVERETT (Concerned) Are—you all right?

  HIRAM Yes. Good night.

  EVERETT does not say another word and exits quietly from the room as the planter sits on. Presently a stir in the shadows behind him makes him turn his head.

  That you, Rissa? You there.

  RISSA (Coming out of the shadows as all of the servants seem to do when they are called or needed) Yessah.

  HIRAM (Himself) There wasn’t enough salt in the greens.

  RISSA There was all you gona get from now on.

  HIRAM NOW, Rissa—

  RISSA If you aimin’ on killin’ yourself, Marster Hiram, don’t be askin’ Riss’ to hep you none ’cause she ain’t gona do it.

  HIRAM One thing about always listening to other people’s conversations, Rissa, is that you hear a lot of blasted nonsense.

  RISSA I don’t have to listen to no other folks’ conversations to see h’you ailin’. You sittin’ there now, white as cotton, sweatin’ like you seen the horseman comin’. (She stands behind him and forces him to sit back in the chair with comforting gestures) Lord, you one stubborn man. I ’spect you was allus the most stubborn man I ever come across.

  HIRAM Took a stubborn man to do the things I had to. To come into the wilderness and make a plantation. Came here with four slaves and fifty dollars and made one of the finest plantations in this district.

  RISSA (Attending to him, gently, patiently, mopping his brow as she stands behind his chair) Yessah. Jes you and me and old Ezra and Zekial who run off and poor old Leo who died last year.

  HIRAM (Shaking his head) You ever expect that Ezekial would run off from me after all those years?

  RISSA Sprise me just as much as you. Reckon I don’t know what gets into some folks.

  HIRAM (Suddenly breaking into laughter) Remember that time when we were building the old barn and Zeke fell from the loft straight into that vat of molasses you had put in there to cool the day before? By God, he was a sticky boy that day!

  (He roars and she does also)

  RISSA —Come flyin’ to me in the kitchen screamin’; “Rissa, Rissa, I’se kilt, I’se kilt!” Me and Ezra had to tie him down to wash him he was so scared. (A new surge of laughter) Finally had to shave his head like a egg, ’member?

  HIRAM And the time the wild hogs went after the corn in the south fields and I had to go after them with the gun and Farmer Burns thought I was shooting at him!

  RISSA Do I remember?—Why we had po’k ’round here for months after that!

  HIRAM (Feeling festive) Fetch the gun, Rissa, go ahead let’s have a look at it—

  RISSA (Fussing good-naturedly as she obeys, reaching for a key hanging among a dozen or so keys on her belt) I knew it! Every time you get to thinkin’ ’bout them days I have to get out that old gun so’s you kin look at it.

  She opens a long drawer and pulls the old weapon out. It is wrapped in a cloth and has been kept in excellent repair.

  HIRAM (Reaching out for it eagerly as she brings it to him) Ah! … And still shoots true as an arrow … (He caresses it a little) My father gave me this gun and I remember feeling—I was fourteen—I remember feeling, “I’m a man now. A true man. I shall go into the wilderness and not seek my fortune—but
make it!” Hah! What a cocky boy I was! …

  (Hiram is smiling happily)

  RISSA (Clearly getting ready to remind him of something. Placing both fists on her hips) Speakin’ of boys, Marster Sweet, ain’t you forgot about a certain promise in the last couple of months?

  HIRAM (Frowning like a boy being reprimanded) Oh, Rissa, Maria says she won’t have it. She put up a terrible fuss about it …

  RISSA (Just as childishly—they are, in fact, very much alike) Marster, a promise is a promise! And you promise me when that boy was born that he wasn’t never gona have to be no field hand …

  HIRAM But we need all the hands in the fields we’ve got and Maria says there is absolutely nothing for another house servant to do around here.

  As he is saying this, MARIA has reentered with a single pill and a glass of water. She stands where she is and watches the two of them.

  RISSA He kin do a little bit of everything. He kin hep me in the kitchen and Harry some in the house. He’s gettin’ so unruly, Marster Hiram. And you promised me—

  HIRAM All right, for God’s sake! Anything for peace in this house! Soon as pickin’s over, Hannibal is a house servant—

  RISSA sees MARIA and becomes quite still. HIRAM follows her eyes and turns to see MARIA as she advances toward him with the medicine and water, her face set in silent anger. HIRAM shouts at her suddenly.

  Because I say so, that’s why! Because I am master of this plantation and every soul on it. I am master of those fields out there and I am master of this house as well. (She is silent) There are some men born into this world who make their own destiny. Men who do not tolerate the rules of other men or other forces.

  He is angry at his illness and goes into a mounting rage as the camera pans away from him to the slightly nodding RISSA who is cut of the same cloth in her individualism; to his wife who feels in the moment only clear despair for her husband; across the floor through the open door where EVERETT stands listening in half-shadow.

  I will not die curled up with some book! When the Maker wants me, let him come for me in the place where He should know better than all I can be found …

  EVERETT’s face turns intently as if for the first time he is hearing the essence of his father.

  I have asked no man’s permission for the life I have lived—and I will not start now!

  Fade out

  End of Act One

  ACT TWO

  FADE IN:

  INTERIOR. EVERETT’S BEDROOM—

  AFTERNOON.

  He is sitting dejectedly alone. Drinking. The door bursts open and his mother stands there with urgency in her face.

  MARIA You had better come, son!

  EVERETT (With concern) An attack?

  MARIA Yes, I’ve sent for Macon.

  He rushes to her and steadies her.

  EVERETT It’s all right, Mother. It’s going to be all right.

  CUT TO:

  INTERIOR. HIRAM’S BEDROOM.

  The shades have been pulled and HIRAM lies stretched out on his back, fully dressed. A male house servant is trying to gently remove his clothes. EVERETT and MARIA enter and go directly to his bedside.

  MARIA Hiram, Macon is on his way. Everything is going to be all right.

  HIRAM Saw him that time … old horseman … riding out the swamps … He was smiling at me.

  MARIA (Taking over from the servant in an effort to make him comfortable) Just lie still. Don’t talk. Macon will be here in a little while and everything will be all right.

  EVERETT (Aside, to the servant) When did it happen?

  SERVANT Jes a little while ago, suh. They found him stretched out yonder in the fields. Eben and Jed carried him up here and me and Missus got him on the bed fust thing. I think he’s powaful sick this time, suh.

  HIRAM Fifty dollars and four slaves … Planted the first seed myself …

  MARIA looks at her husband intently in his pain and then rises with a new air of determination and signals for her son to follow her out of the room. He obeys—a little quizzically.

  MARIA (To the servant as they go out) We’ll be right here, Harry.

  SERVANT Yes, ma’am.

  MARIA (In the hall, in half tones and with a more precise spirit than her son has ever seen before) Do you propose to wait any longer now, son?

  EVERETT (Confused) For what—?

  MARIA To become master here.

  EVERETT Oh, Mother …

  MARIA Everett, your father is perfectly capable of killing himself. We must become perfectly capable of stopping him from doing it.

  EVERETT You heard him last week—“Some men make their destiny”—Well—

  MARIA (Sharply) I am not interested in your bitterness at this moment, Everett. You must take over the running of the plantation—no, listen to me—and you must make him believe you have done no such thing. Every night, if necessary, you must sit with pencil and pad and let him tell you everything he wishes. And then—well, do as you please. You will be master then. But he will think that he is still, which is terrible important.

  (With that, she turns to the door)

  EVERETT YOU would deceive him like that?

  MARIA (Only half-turning to reply) Under the circumstances, Everett, I consider that to be the question of a weak boy, when I have clearly asked you to be a very strong man. (Looking at him) Which is the only kind I have ever been able to truly love.

  (She turns and goes and the camera lingers with Everett’s face)

  DISSOLVE TO:

  EXTERIOR. A SMALL FARM.

  A lean farmer stands in a cornfield between rows of feeble burnt-out looking corn. A bushel basket sits at his feet. He reaches out and twists an ear off a stalk, pulls hack the green shuck and looks at the ear with anger and despair and throws it roughly into the basket, where other ears like it are collected. He picks up the basket and strides angrily toward his cabin.

  CUT TO:

  INTERIOR. THE CABIN.

  His wife is working at the stove. ZEB DUDLEY, the farmer, kicks the door open roughly with his foot and walks in and slams the basket down with fury. The woman watches him.

  ZEB That ain’t corn. That’s sticks!

  (ELIZABETH wipes her hands and comes to inspect the corn. She picks up a piece or two and drops them sadly back into the basket)

  ZEB Ain’t nobody going to buy that! Can’t hardly get a decent price when it’s good. Who’s going to buy that?

  ELIZABETH Well, take it in anyhow. We have to try at least, Zeb.

  Two small children stand in a corner watching them, looking as if they might welcome the corn at the moment, no matter what its condition.

  ZEB Well then—you try!

  He strides across the floor and gets a jug down from the shelf and uncorks it and drinks deeply from it.

  ELIZABETH We ain’t got no choice, Zeb.

  ZEB I said all right, you try! (More quietly) How’s Timmy?

  ELIZABETH (Looking into the crib in a corner of the room) He ain’t been cryin’ at least.

  The man walks over to his baby’s crib and then turns away and takes another drink from the jug, only to discover that it is now empty. He looks at it and suddenly smashes it on the floor. An old man has appeared at the door which ZEB has left open.

  PREACHER H’dy do.

  He surprises both of them a little.

  ELIZABETH Oh, hello, Preacher, come on in.

  PREACHER Thought I’d pay my respects to the Dudleys and mebbe find out why they ain’t made it to meetin’ in the last month of Sundays. Reckon I could stand a cup of lemonade too, if you got it handy, ’Lizabeth.

  He signals the two older children without interrupting his remarks and gives them each a candy.

  Zeb, you look like a stallion somebody been whippin’ with a bullwhip.

  ZEB strides out of the cabin and makes splashing sounds from a basin outside the door. ELIZABETH puts a glass of lemonade before the Preacher.

  What’s the matter with Timmy, there?

  ELIZA
BETH Got the croup all week.

  Her husband comes back in, stripped to the waist, water dripping from his head. She pours lemonade for him also.

  PREACHER NOW, that’s better. Nothin’ to bring temper down off a man like a little coolin’ water.

  ZEB I’m clearin’, Preacher.

  PREACHER Clearin’ where, son?

  ZEB Don’t know. The West, mebbe.

  PREACHER Oh, the West?

  ZEB (Defensively) Well, a lotta folks been pullin’ out goin’ West lately.

  PREACHER Lookin’ for the Frontier again? I kin remember when this was the Frontier.

  ZEB (Quickly) That was a long time ago.

  PREACHER A long time. Before the big plantations started gobblin’ up the land and floodin’ the country with slaves.

  ZEB I heard me some good things ’bout the West. That if a man got a little get up in him, he still got a chance. Hear there’s plenty of land still. Good land.

  PREACHER Seems to be three things the South sends out more than anything else. A steady stream of cotton, runaway slaves and poor white folks. I guess the last two is pretty much lookin’ for the same thing and they both runnin’ from the first.

  ZEB Not me—! No sir! I ain’t runnin’ from cotton! I’m lookin’ for some place where I kin plant me some, that’s what. I know ’bout plantin’ and I know how to drive slaves!

  PREACHER And you figger you kin get to be somebody, eh? Like the Sweets, mebbe?

  ZEB If I ever got my chance, I make that Sweet plantation look like a shanty! … Why you laughin’ like that?

  PREACHER Allus been a laughin’ man, allus loved a good joke.

  ZEB Well, I ain’t told none.

  PREACHER Yep, it’s a hard life.

  ZEB It’s a hard life if you ain’t got slaves.

  PREACHER That what you think, Zeb?

  ZEB That’s what I know.

  PREACHER Your Pa managed to be a pretty good farmer without slaves, Zeb.

  ZEB My Pa was a fool.

  PREACHER Sure hate to hear good men called fools. He was honest and he worked hard. Didn’t call anybody Master and caused none to call him Master. He was a farmer and a good one.

  ZEB And he died eatin’ dirt.

  There is a sound of reining-up outside the cabin. ELIZABETH goes to look out.