The World Above E-Book

Martha Foote Crow

• Herausgeber: Booksell-Verlag
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

In "The World Above," Martha Foote Crow crafts a compelling narrative that invites readers into the intricacies of human emotion and the interplay between nature and civilization. Set against a backdrop of the American wilderness, the book employs a lyrical prose style that reflects Crow's keen observation of the flora and fauna surrounding her. Through vivid imagery and a rich tapestry of sensory details, the text explores themes of solitude, wonder, and the quest for transcendence'Äîtying the human experience to the larger cycle of life. Crow's work sits comfortably within the tradition of early 20th-century American literature, echoing the transcendentalist movement while simultaneously grounding itself in realism. Martha Foote Crow was not only a pioneering writer but also an esteemed naturalist, which deeply informed her literary endeavors. Her background in education and affinity for nature allowed her to seamlessly blend scientific observation with poetic expression. Crow's encounters with various landscapes and her engagement with the philosophical undercurrents of her time inspired her to delve into the relationship between humanity and the natural world, which is poignantly portrayed in this work. "The World Above" is a must-read for those who seek to immerse themselves in poetic explorations of nature and self. It offers profound insights into the human spirit and its connection to the environment, making it an essential addition to the library of anyone interested in American literature, nature writing, or philosophical inquiry.

Leseprobe

Martha Foote Crow

The World Above

A Duologue

Published by Good Press, 2022

[email protected]

EAN 4064066134419

Table of Contents

Scene I.

Scene II.

Scene III.

Scene I.

Table of Contents

(A place in The Darker Realm. The background forms a cave-like enclosure or gallery with an arched roof composed of massive blocks of fitted stone. At the center of the enclosure is a tall well-sweep with other gigantic structures. Chains and tubes range along the walls and ceiling. At the right there is an opening into one of the larger conduits, and over the opening a trap-door is held up diagonally by a long dusty rope with a pulley attaching it to the wall above. From above this opening dangles a cord that floats out tensely, showing that a strong current of air is coming down through the conduit and is flowing out into the gallery. Near the front a foot-bridge crosses a gulley in the floor of the passage; one can see the glint of the water flowing below. At the left, high up on the wall, juts forth a crane and on this hangs an iron lantern from which a sickly light is given forth. This is almost the only center of light in the place, though it is possible to see that there is some kind of a lamp beyond the half-open door of a windowless hut which is dimly perceived at the back of the gallery. Also, above the foot-bridge, there is a flue in the ceiling, and through this flows downward a faint, pale light, almost imperceptible, like the dimmest twilight. At the back of the gallery, arched openings on either side lead to passages of impenetrable blackness.

From the door of the hut a young girl emerges and passes across the gallery. She hums a strain of the hymn Varina, and as she comes along, she touches the wall lightly with her white finger tips and walks with a hesitating step as if the floor were slippery, or as if she were accustomed to find her way more by the sense of touch than by that of sight. She is a slender and delicate looking girl, and the pupils of her eyes are large and dark as if they were trying to gather all the light they could. Her garment is a poor, dull-colored thing, and her face and her two hands are the only spots of pure white in the whole picture. She comes forward slowly, touching the wall sensitively and sings, as she approaches, in a voice like a soft, sweet flute, and yet more pathetic than any words can describe.)

[Listen]

(She comes forward to the bridge and looks down into the water.)

[Listen]

(She looks up toward the flue; the dim radiance there falls like a halo upon her head. She whispers:)

Angelica—“Saints immortal!” I wonder what “saints immortal” may be!

(She looks around wonderingly and then looks down at her hand and turns a ring upon her finger, and then holds it up to the pale light from above, and smiles as she sings the second line of the stanza.)

[Listen]

(Then she turns and takes in long breaths of the air from the fresh current, lifting her shoulders as if she enjoyed the mere pleasure of breathing.)

[Listen]

(She rests her face upon her hand meditatively.)

Angelica—This air—it must be the “everlasting spring” that mother sings about, it is so sweet!—for when I ask mother what “spring” is, she says it is where the air is fresh and sweet. Ah, yes! I would rather be out here, rather than in the close room, since mother is so sad and will not talk with me. Here the air comes rushing down the conduit and pours out into the gallery and fills me with such joy that I can scarcely breathe enough of it! I breathe and breathe it in! But—(she stops, listening, and holds her hand to her heart) surely, surely that is Jean’s step! It comes nearer! It turns down the Branch of Blind Alleys. It is, it is! Jean! Jean! (Then with an effort to gain composure of tone—) Why, Jean, is that you? (A boyish-looking fellow comes forward; he is dressed in workman’s clothes and has all the marks of sordid labor upon his frame. His body is muscular but his complexion shows the pallor that suggests the cellar-grown plant. His eyes glow, however, with happy expectancy as he moves swiftly toward Angelica and takes her hands in his.)

Jean—Angelica! Do not pretend you did not hear my step; I saw you listening. I could tell from the very Court of Miracles what you were thinking of if I saw only the bend of your head! But look you! I am here! Jean! It is Jean!

Angelica—I know. (She turns and seems to make up her mind to throw all ruse aside; with a gesture of welcome she cries:) Ah, I thought I was never to see you again!

Jean—I thought so, too. I have wished to see you!

Angelica—Why, then, were you so long?

Jean—I was working with old Jacques over in the Old Freestone Branch beyond the Court of Miracles.

Angelica—(She shudders.) The Old Freestone? O, why did you go there?

Jean—Some one must go, Angelica, and I was the youngest and strongest. If I had not gone, old Jacques would have had to as he was the only one that understood the buttressing of the ancient wall, and I wouldn’t have had old Jacques made to go for worlds!

Angelica—No indeed, old Jacques that saved your life and pulled you out of the Great River!