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The Faith Healer: A Play In Four Acts [William Vaughn Moody] on leondumoulin.nl *​FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. This scarce antiquarian book is a facsimile.
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The local newspaper reported on the event, unable to adjudicate it scientifically but admitting that something remarkable had happened. A review. A chronicle. Everything that theaters beg for, from any paper-of-record. Now a tattered clipping. Faith Healer follows the Irish trope of exile and homecoming. It is, at its core, a study in one man crucified by a talent that betrays him so often. He has the intuition to stay out of his native Ireland, until one day, he returns home. This is not Rashomon revisited, where the truth of a fact is perceived relatively from the point-of-view of the storyteller.

For example, something happened in the North of Scotland town, Kinlochbervie. According to Frank, he had to leave in order to attend the death of his mother.

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According to Grace, it was his father who died. According to Teddy, Frank never left; rather, with abject cruelty, he abandoned Grace while she was giving birth to his child in a van awaiting repair of a broken front axle. To accept that fact, you have to believe the narrative, as told by one of the three characters, which Friel deliberately makes a dubious proposition. Michaelis watches her with a kind of vague intentness.

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Uncle has spent everything he could earn on them. She has been three times to the mineral baths, once as far as Virginia.

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Oh, yes. The pool in the Bible, where once a year an angel troubled the waters, and the sick and the lame and the blind gathered, hoping to be healed. And whoever first, after the troubling of the waters, stepped in, he was made whole of whatsoever disease he had. She goes on in a different tone, as if to escape from the embarrassment of her last speech.

It would make the world a very different—a very strange place, if that were true. I have been a wanderer, almost a fugitive—. And I never knew it, till now—I never knew it till—I looked into your face! All my life long I have walked in the light of something to come, some labor, some mission, I have scarcely known what—but I have risen with it and lain down with it, and nothing else has existed for me. The stars looked down from their places, the earth wheeled on among the stars.

Everything was as it had been, and nothing was as it had been; nor ever, ever can it be the same again. You must not say these things to me. You are—I am not—. You must not think of me so. Rhoda speaks in a lighter tone, as if to relieve the tension of their last words.


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A great table of stone, rising five hundred feet out of the endless waste of sand. A little adobe house, halfway up the mesa, with the desert far below and the Indian village far above. A few peach trees, and a spring—a sacred spring, which the Indians worshipped in secret. A little chapel, which my father had built with his own hands. He often spent the night there, praying.

And there, one night, he died. I found him in the morning, lying as if in quiet prayer before the altar. I went away south, into the mountains, and got work on a sheep range. I was a shepherd for five years. He sits absorbed in thought without answering. Rhoda continues, after a long pause. In the fall I would drive the sheep south, through the great basin which sloped down into Mexico, and in the spring back again to the mountains.

There were a few men on the ranges, but they were no more to me than the sheep—not so much. I had this pocket Bible, that had been my father's. I read that sometimes. But always in a dream, without understanding, without remembering. Yet there came a time when whole chapters started up in my mind, as plain as if the printed page were before me, and I understood it all, both the outer meaning and the inner. It was one morning in the fourth spring.

We were back in the mountains again.

The Faith Healer; A Play in Four Acts

It was lambing time, and I had been up all night. Just before sunrise, I sat down on a rock to rest. Then—it came. The living Christ!

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Tell me the rest. What happened to you, after—after what you saw—that morning in the mountains?

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The first time it came at night. I was walking on the top of the mountain, in a stony place. It—it was like a wind among the stones. In the same place, at dawn. The voice said, "Go forth, it is finished! Then it came again, like a wind among the stones, "Go forth, it is begun! I found a man to take my place, and started north. Three days after, I climbed the mesa toward my old home.

Above, in the pueblo, I heard the sound of tom-toms and wailing squaws. They told me that the young son of the chief lay dead in my father's chapel. I sat beside him all day and all night. Just before daylight—. Just before daylight, when the other watchers were asleep, the power of the spirit came strong upon me.

I bowed myself upon the boy's body, and prayed.