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diff --git a/3068-h/3068-h.htm b/3068-h/3068-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dcbcc7f --- /dev/null +++ b/3068-h/3068-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5184 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Washington Square Plays, by Various + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Washington Square Plays, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Washington Square Plays + Volume XX, The Drama League Series of Plays + +Author: Various + +Release Date: November 1, 2009 [EBook #3068] +Last Updated: January 8, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WASHINGTON SQUARE PLAYS *** + + + + +Produced by Dianne Bean, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + <big>WASHINGTON SQUARE PLAYS</big> + </h1> + <h3> + Volume XX, The Drama League Series of Plays + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + 1. The Clod. By Lewis Beach + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + 2. Eugenically Speaking. By Edward Goodman + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + 3. Overtones. By Alice Gerstenberg + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + 4. Helena's Husband. By Philip Moeller + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h3> + With An Introduction By Walter Prichard Eaton + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE TO THE PLAYS </a> + </p> + <br /> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> I. THE CLOD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> II. EUGENICALLY SPEAKING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> III. OVERTONES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> IV. HELENA'S HUSBAND </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Preface By Edward Goodman Director of the Washington Square Players + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Garden City New York + Doubleday, Page & Company + 1925 + + Copyright, 1916, By + Doubleday, Page & Company + + The Clod. Copyright, 1914, By Emmet Lewis Beach + Eugenically Speaking. Copyright, 1914, By Edward Goodman + Overtones. Copyright, 1913, By Alice Gerstenberg + Helena's Husband. Copyright, 1915, By Philip Moeller +</pre> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + In its present form these plays are dedicated to the reading public only, + and no performance of them may be given. + </p> + <p> + Printed In The United States At The Country Life Press, Garden City, N. Y. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION + </h2> + <p> + The rigid conventionality of the theatre has been frequently remarked + upon. Why the world should ever fear a radical, indeed, is hard to see, + since he has against him the whole dead weight of society; but least of + all need the radical be dreaded in the theatre. When the average person + pays money for his amusements, he is little inclined to be pleased with + something which doesn't amuse him: and what amuses him, nine times out of + ten, is what has amused him. That is why changes in the theatre are + relatively slow, and customs long prevail, even till it seems they may + corrupt the theatrical world. + </p> + <p> + For many generations in our playhouse it was the custom to follow the long + play of the evening with an "afterpiece," generally in one act, but always + brief, and almost always gay, if not farcical. Audiences, which in the + early days assembled before seven o'clock, had to be sent home happy. + After the tragedy, the slap-stick or the loud guffaw; after "Romeo and + Juliet," Cibber's "Hob in the Well"; after "King Lear," "The Irish Widow." + (These two illustrations are taken at random from the programs of the + Charleston theatre in 1773.) This custom persisted until comparatively + recent times. The fathers and mothers of the present generation can + remember when William Warren, at the Boston Museum, would turn of an + evening from such a part as his deep-hearted Sir Peter Teazle to the loud + and empty vociferations of a Morton farce. The entertainment in those days + would hardly have been considered complete without the "afterpiece," or, + as time went on, sometimes the "curtain raiser." It is by no means certain + that theatre seats were always cheaper than to-day. In some cases, + certainly, they were relatively quite as high. But it is certain that you + got more for your money. You frequently saw your favorite actor in two + contrasted roles, two contrasted styles of acting perhaps, and you saw him + from early evening till a decently late hour. You didn't get to the + theatre at 8.30, wait for the curtain to rise on a thin-spun drawing-room + comedy at 8.45, and begin hunting for your wraps at 10.35. One hates to + think, in fact, what would have happened to a manager fifty years ago who + didn't give more than that for the price of a ticket. Our fathers and + mothers watched their pennies more sharply than we do. + </p> + <p> + For various reasons, one of them no doubt being the growth of cheaper + forms of amusement and the consequent desertion from the traditional + playhouse of a considerable body of those who least like, and can least + afford, to spend money irrespective of returns, the "afterpiece" and + "curtain raiser" have practically vanished from our stage. They have so + completely vanished, in fact, that theatre goers have lost not only the + habit of expecting them, but the imaginative flexibility to enjoy them. If + you should play "Romeo and Juliet" to-day and then follow it with a + one-act farce, your audience would be uncomfortably bewildered. They would + be unable to make the necessary adjustment of mood. If you focus your + vision rapidly from a near to a far object, you probably suffer from + eye-strain. Similarly, the jump from one play to the other in the theatre + gives a modern audience mind- or mood-strain. It is largely a matter of + habit. We, to-day, have lost the trick through lack of practice. The old + custom is dead; we are fixed in a new one. If Maude Adams, for instance, + should follow "The Little Minister" with a roaring farce, or Sothern + should turn on the same evening from "If I Were King" to "Box and Cox," we + should feel that some artistic unity had been rudely violated; nor am I at + all sure, being a product of this generation, but that we should be quite + right. + </p> + <p> + Matters standing as they do, then, it seems to me that the talk we + frequently hear about reviving "the art of the one-act play" by restoring + the curtain raisers or afterpieces to the programs of our theatres is + reactionary and futile. All recent attempts to pad out a slim play with an + additional short one have failed to meet with approval, even when the + short piece was so masterly a work as Barrie's "The Will," splendidly + acted by John Drew, or the same author's "Twelve Pound Look," acted by + Miss Barrymore. Nor is it at all certain that the one-act plays of our + parents and grandparents and great-grandparents, the names of which you + may read by the thousands on ancient playbills, added anything to the + store of dramatic literature. Some of them are decently entombed in the + catacombs of Lacy's British Drama, or still available for amateurs in + French's library. Did you ever try to read one? Of course, there was "Box + and Cox," but it is doubtful if there will be any great celebration at the + tercentenary of Morton's death. For the most part, those ancient + afterpieces were frankly padding, conventional farces to fill up the bill + and send the audiences home happy. To the real art of the drama or the + development of the one-act play as a form of serious literary expression, + they made precious little contribution. They were a theatrical tradition, + a convention. + </p> + <p> + But the one-act play, nonetheless, has an obvious right to existence, as + much as the short story, and there are plentiful proofs that it can be as + terse, vivid, and significant. Most novelists don't tack on a short story + at the end of their books for full measure, but issue their contes either + in collections or in the pages of the magazines. What similar chances are + there, or can there be, for the one-act play, the dramatic short story? + </p> + <p> + An obvious chance is offered by vaudeville. The vaudeville audience is in + the mood for rapid alterations of attention; it has the habit of variety. + This is just as much a convention of vaudeville as the single play is now + a convention of the traditional theatre. Indeed, anything longer than a + one-act play in vaudeville would be frowned upon. Any one wishing to push + the analogy can find more than one correspondence between a vaudeville + program and the contents of a "popular" magazine; each, certainly, is the + present refuge of short fiction. Yet vaudeville can hardly be considered + an ideal cradle for a serious dramatic art. (Shall we say that the analogy + to the "popular" magazine still holds?) The average "playlet"—atrocious + word—in the variety theatres is a dreadful thing, crude, obvious, + often sensational or sentimental, usually very badly acted at least in the + minor recircles, and still more a frank padding, a thing of the + footlights, than the afterpiece of our parents. It has been frequently + said by those optimists who are forever discovering the birth of the arts + in popular amusements that vaudeville audiences will appreciate and + applaud the best. This is only in part true. They will appreciate the best + juggler, the cleverest trained dog, the most appealing ballad singer such + as Chevalier or Harry Lauder. But they will no more appreciate those + subtleties of dramatic art which must have free play in the serious + development of the one-act play than the readers of a "popular" magazine + in America (or England either) would appreciate Kipling's "They," or + George Moore's "The Wild Goose," or de Maupassant's "La Ficelle." To + expect them to is silly; and to expect that because the supreme, vivid + example of any form is comprehensible to all classes and all mixtures of + classes, therefore the supreme example is going to be developed out of the + commonplace stuff such mixed audiences daily enjoy, is equally to + misunderstand the evolution of an art product in our complex modern world. + But, indeed, the matter scarce calls for argument. Vaudeville itself + furnishes the answer. Where are its one-act plays which can be called + dramatic literature? It is a hopeful sign, perhaps, that certain of the + plays in this volume have percolated into the varieties! But they were not + cradled there. + </p> + <p> + If the traditional theatre, then, is now in a rut which affords no room + for the one-act play, and if vaudeville is an empty cradle for this branch + of dramatic art, where shall we turn? The one-act play to-day has found + refuge and encouragement in the experimental theatres, and among the + amateurs. The best one-act plays so far written in English have come out + of Ireland, chiefly from the Abbey Theatre in Dublin where they were first + acted by a company recruited from amateur players. Synge's "Riders to the + Sea," Yeats's "The Hour Glass," the comedies of Lady Gregory and others of + that school, have not only proved the power of this form to carry the + sense of reality, but its power as well to reach tragic intensity or high + poetic beauty. The sombre loveliness and cleansing reality of Synge's + masterpiece are almost unrivaled in our short-play literature. Not from + the Abbey Theatre, but from the pen of an Irishman, Lord Dunsany, have + come such short fantasies as "The Gods of the Mountain" and "The + Glittering Gate," which the so-called "commercial" theatre has quite + ignored, but which have been played extensively by amateurs and + experimental theatres throughout America; and the latter piece, + especially, has probably been provocative of more experimental stagecraft + and a greater stimulation of poetic fancy among amateur producers than any + drama, short or long, written in recent years. + </p> + <p> + When the Washington Square Players, for the most part amateurs of the + theatre, began their experiment in the spring of 1915, they began with a + bill of one-act plays. With but two exceptions, all their succeeding + productions have been composed of one-act plays, usually in groups of + four, the last one for the evening sometimes being a pantomime. (It should + be noted that a program of four one-act plays has the unity of a + collection. A short play following a long one is overbalanced and the + program seems to most of us awry.) The reason for this choice was not + entirely a devotion to the art of the one-act play. When players are + inexperienced, it is far easier to present a group of plays of one act + than it is to sustain a single set of characters for an entire evening. + The action moves more rapidly, the tale is told before the monotony of the + actors becomes too apparent. Moreover, the difference between the plays + helps to furnish that variety which the players themselves cannot supply + by their impersonations. Still again, it was no doubt easier for the + Washington Square Players to find novelties within their capacity in the + one-act form than in the longer medium. At any rate, they did produce + one-act plays, and are still producing them. + </p> + <p> + Four of these plays are presented in this book, four which won approval + first on the stage of the Bandbox Theatre and later, acted by other + players, in various other theatres. One of them, "Overtones," is a + theatrical novelty which if prolonged beyond the one-act form would become + monotonous. Another, "Helena's Husband," is a bantering satire, an + intellectual "skit," which would equally suffer by prolongation. + "Eugenically Speaking" could certainly bear no further extension, unless + its mood were deepened into seriousness. Finally, "The Clod" approaches + the true episodic roundness of the one-act drama, or the short story, in + its best estate. Here is a single episode of reality, taken from its + context and set apart for contemplation. It begins at the proper moment + for understanding, it ends when the tale is told. There is here more than + a hint of the art of Guy de Maupassant. And the episode is theatrically + exciting—a prime requisite for practical performance, and + spiritually significant—a prime requisite for the serious + consideration of intelligent spectators. In these four plays, then, + written for the Washington Square Players, the one-act form demonstrates + its right to our attention and cultivation, for it takes interesting ideas + or situations which are incapable of expansion into longer dramas and + makes intelligent entertainment of what otherwise would be lost. + </p> + <p> + Because such organizations as the Abbey Theatre have demonstrated the + value of the one-act play in portraying local life, in stimulating a local + stage literature; because such organizations in America as the Washington + Square Players have demonstrated the superior value of the one-act play as + a weapon with which to win recognition and build up the histrionic + capacity to tackle longer works; and, finally, because the one-act play + offers such obvious advantages to amateurs, it seems fairly certain that + in the immediate future, at least, the one-act play in America, as a + serious art form, will be cultivated by the experimental theatres, the + so-called "Little Theatres," and by the more ambitious and talented + amateurs. As our experimental theatres increase in number—and they + are increasing—it will probably play its part, and perhaps no + insignificant a part, in the development of a national drama through the + development of a local drama and the cultivation of a taste for + self-expression in various communities. It is only when these experimental + theatres are sufficient in number, and the amateur spirit has been + sufficiently aroused in various communities, that the commercial theatre + of tradition will be seriously influenced. When that time comes—if + it does come—one of the results will undoubtedly be a more flexible + theatre, the growth of repertoire companies, the expansion of the + activities of popular players. In a more flexible theatre, where + repertoire is a rule rather than a strange and dreaded experiment, and + where actors pride themselves on versatility and the public honors them + for it, the one-act play will again have its place, but not then as a + curtain raiser or afterpiece, to pad out an evening or "send the suburbs + home happy," but as a serious branch of dramatic art. In that happy day + Barrie will not be the only first-class talent in the commercial playhouse + daring the one-act form, or at least able to induce a commercial manager + to produce his work in that form. + </p> + <p> + But that time is not yet. The one-act play in our country to-day is an + ally of the amateurs and the innovators. For that very reason, perhaps, it + is the form which will bear the most watching for signs of imagination and + for flashes of insight and interpretative significance. + </p> + <p> + WALTER PRICHARD EATON. Stockbridge, Massachusetts. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + PREFACE TO THE PLAYS + </h2> + <p> + If fools did not rush in where theatrical angels fear to tread, this + Preface would never have been written. Two years back the Washington + Square Players were called, by many who had theatrical experience, fools. + Now some term us pioneers. The future may write us fools again, or + something better—the conclusion being that the difference between + the fool and the pioneer lies in the outcome; the secret, that the motive + power behind both is enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + Without enthusiasm the Washington Square Players could never have come + into existence, nor survived. From the first, when we had barely enough + money for rent and none for the costumes and properties we borrowed and + disguised, ours was an enthusiasm strong in quantity as well as quality. + The theatre is a peculiar art. Both in production and reception it + requires numbers and an enduring faith. Many a similar attempt has failed + because its experimentation and expression have been restricted by a + single point of view. Many have not continued because the desire has waned + in the face of the hardships and sacrifices entailed. But the Players + rightly had a plural name. We were, and are, a collection of many + individuals—actors, authors, artists, and art-lovers—all fired + with the sincere desire to give to playgoers something they had not been + able previously to find on the American stage. And our desire has been + strong enough to face and fight, and to continue to face and fight, the + ever-growing, ever-changing problems of finance, art, and human + inter-relations, which are the inescapable factors of the theatre. + </p> + <p> + We believed in the democracy of the drama. But we understand democracy to + mean, not the gratification of the taste of the many to the exclusion of + that of the few, but the satisfaction of all tastes. We had no quarrel + with the stage as it was, save that there wasn't enough of it. We felt + there was a public that wanted something other than it could get—as + evidenced by the rise of such institutions as the Drama League—and + that that public was large enough to support what it wanted once it + learned where to find it. The problem was to bridge the gap of waiting. + And it was met by the sacrifices of all those who worked at first for + nothing, and then for little more, so that the Players would not fall into + debt in the process of reaching an audience. As an able New York dramatic + critic stated, the establishment of the Washington Square Players was + merely one more proof that in America, as elsewhere, joy was a greater + incentive to work than money. + </p> + <p> + This enthusiasm among the workers, both in quality and quantity, was + generously shared by the spectators. The public which looked for plays, + acting and producing different from what it could find on the regular + stage, proved us right in believing that it was sufficiently large and + interested to warrant our experiment. Critics and patrons gave us from the + first, and we hope will continue to give us, that personal interest and + sympathetic appreciation which have been among the most vital factors + contributing to our growth. + </p> + <p> + So far we have produced thirty-two plays, of one-act and greater length, + and of these twenty have been American. The emphasis of our interest has + been placed on the American playwright, because we feel that no American + theatre can be really successful unless it develops a native drama to + present and interpret those emotions, ideas, characters, and conditions + with which we, as Americans, are primarily concerned. + </p> + <p> + Of these twenty American plays the Drama League has selected four for this + volume of its series. Excluding comment on my farce—for an author is + notoriously unfit to judge his own work—I think it may be said that + these represent a fair example of the success the Players have met with in + trying to encourage the writing of American plays with "freshness and + sincerity of theme and development; skilful delineation of character; + non-didactic presentation of an idea; and dramatic and esthetic + effectiveness without theatricalism." They are the early products of a new + movement in the American theatre of which we are happy to be a part, and + if their publication meets with the sympathetic, appreciative reception + that has been accorded their production, we feel and hope that not only + these authors, not only the Washington Square Players, but all of the + workers in this new movement will be encouraged and stimulated to a + further effort, a greater mastery, and a bigger achievement. + </p> + <p> + EDWARD GOODMAN, Director of the Washington Square Players. Comedy Theatre, + New York, 1916. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + I. THE CLOD + </h2> + <h3> + A One-Act Play + </h3> + <p> + By Lewis Beach + </p> + <p> + Copyright, 1914, by Emmet Lewis Beach, Jr. + </p> + <p> + (Note—The author acknowledges indebtedness to "The Least of These," + by Donal Hamilton Haines, a short story which suggested the play.) + </p> + <p> + "The Clod" was produced by the Washington Square Players, under the + direction of Holland Hudson, at the Bandbox Theatre, New York City, + beginning January 10, 1916. + </p> + <p> + In the cast, in the order of their appearance, were the following: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARY TRASK. Josephine A. Meyer + THADDEUS TRASK. John King + A NORTHERN SOLDIER. Glenn Hunter + A SOUTHERN SERGEANT. Robert Strange + A SOUTHERN PRIVATE. Spalding Hall +</pre> + <p> + The Scene was designed by John King. + </p> + <p> + "The Clod" was subsequently revived by the Washington Square Players at + the Comedy Theatre, New York City, beginning June 5, 1916. In this + production Mary Morris played the part of Mary Trask. + </p> + <p> + Later it was presented in vaudeville by Martin Beck, opening at the Palace + Theatre, New York City, August 21, 1916, with the following cast: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARY TRASK. Sarah Padden + THADDEUS TRASK. John Cameron + A NORTHERN SOLDIER. Glenn Hunter + A SOUTHERN SERGEANT. Thomas Hamilton + A SOUTHERN PRIVATE. Gordon Gunnis +</pre> + <p> + "The Clod" was first produced by the Harvard Dramatic Club, in March, + 1914, with the cast as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MARY TRASK. Christine Hayes + THADDEUS TRASK. Norman B. Clark + A NORTHERN SOLDIER. Dale Kennedy + A SOUTHERN SERGEANT. James W. D. Seymour + DICK. Richard Southgate +</pre> + <p> + THE CLOD CHARACTERS + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THADDEUS TRASK + MARY TRASK + A NORTHERN SOLDIER + A SOUTHERN SERGEANT + DICK +</pre> + <div class="play"> + <p> + SCENE: The kitchen of a farmhouse on the borderline between the Southern + and Northern states. TIME: Ten o'clock in the evening, September, 1863. + </p> + <p> + The back wall is broken at stage left by the projection at right angles + of a partially enclosed staircase, four steps of which, leading to the + landing, are visible to the audience. Underneath the enclosed stairway + is a cubby-hole with a door; in front of the door stands a small table. + To the left of this table is a kitchen chair. A door leading to the yard + is in the centre of the unbroken wall back; to the right of the door, a + cupboard, to the left, a stove. In the wall right are two windows. + Between them is a bench, on which there are a pail and a dipper; above + the bench a towel hanging on a nail, and above the towel a + double-barrelled shot-gun suspended on two pegs. + </p> + <p> + In the wall left, and well down stage, is a closed door leading to + another room. In the centre of the kitchen stands a large table; to the + right and left of this, two straight-backed chairs. + </p> + <p> + The walls are roughly plastered. The stage is lighted by the moon, which + shines into the room through the windows, and a candle on table centre. + When the door back is opened, a glimpse of a desolate farmyard is seen + in the moonlight. + </p> + <p> + When the curtain rises, THADDEUS TRASK, a man of fifty or sixty years of + age, short and thick set, slow in speech and movement, yet in perfect + health, sits lazily smoking his pipe in a chair at the right of the + centre table. + </p> + <p> + After a moment, MARY TRASK, a tired, emaciated woman, whose years equal + her husband's, enters from the yard, carrying a pail of water and a + lantern. She puts the pail on the bench and hangs the lantern above it; + then crosses to the stove. + </p> + <p> + MARY. Ain't got wood 'nough fer breakfast, Thad. + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS. I'm too tired to go out now; wait till mornin'. + </p> + <p> + [Pause. MARY lays the fire in the stove.] + </p> + <p> + Did I tell ye that old man Reed saw three Southern troopers pass his + house this mornin'? + </p> + <p> + MARY [takes coffee pot from stove, crosses to bench, fills pot with + water]. I wish them soldiers would git out o' the neighborhood. Whenever + I see 'em passin', I have t' steady myself 'gainst somethin' or I'd + fall. I couldn't hardly breathe yesterday when the Southerners came + after fodder. I'd die if they spoke t' me. + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS. Ye needn't be afraid of Northern soldiers. + </p> + <p> + MARY [puts coffee pot on stove]. I hate 'em all—Union or Southern. + I can't make head or tail t' what all this fightin's 'bout. An' I don't + care who wins, so long as they git through, an' them soldiers stop + stealin' our corn an' potatoes. + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS. Ye can't hardly blame 'em if they're hungry, ken ye? + </p> + <p> + MARY. It ain't right that they should steal from us poor folk. [Lifts a + huge gunny sack of potatoes from the table and begins setting the table + for breakfast, getting knives, forks, spoons, plates, cups, and saucers—two + of each—from the cupboard.] We have hard 'nough times t' make + things meet now. I ain't set down onct to-day, 'cept fer meals; an' when + I think o' the work I got t' do t'morrow, I ought t' been in bed hours + ago. + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS. I'd help if I could, but it ain't my fault if the Lord see'd + fit t' lay me up, so I'm always ailin'. [Rises lazily.] Ye better try + an' take things easy t'morrow. + </p> + <p> + MARY. It's well 'nough t' say, but them apples got t' be picked an' the + rest o' the potatoes sorted. If I could sleep at night it'd be all + right, but with them soldiers 'bout, I can't. + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS [crosses to right; fondly handles his double-barrelled + shot-gun]. Jolly, wish I'd see a flock o' birds. + </p> + <p> + MARY [showing nervousness]. I'd rather go without than hear ye fire. I + wish ye didn't keep it loaded. + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS. Ye know I ain't got time t' stop an' load when I see the + birds. They don't wait fer ye. [Hangs gun on wall, drops into his chair, + dejectedly.] Them pigs has got to be butchered. + </p> + <p> + MARY. Wait till I git a chance t' go t' sister's. I can't stand it t' + hear 'em squeal. + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS [pulling off his boots, grunting meanwhile]. Best go soon then, + 'cause they's fat as they'll ever be, an' there ain't no use in wastin' + feed on 'em. [Pause, rises.] Ain't ye most ready fer bed? + </p> + <p> + MARY. Go on up. + </p> + <p> + [THADDEUS takes candle in one hand, boots in other; moves toward + stairs.] + </p> + <p> + An', Thad, try not t' snore to-night. + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS [reaching the landing]. Hit me if I do. [Disappears from view.] + </p> + <p> + [MARY fills the kettle with water and puts it on the stove; closes the + door back; takes the lantern from the wall, tries twice before she + succeeds in blowing it out. Puts the lantern on the table before the + cubby-hole. Drags herself up the stairs, pausing a moment on the top + step for breath before she disappears from sight. There is a silence. + Then the door back is opened a trifle and a man's hand is seen. + Cautiously the door is opened wide, and a young NORTHERN SOLDIER is + silhouetted on the threshold. He wears a dirty uniform and has a bloody + bandage tied about his head. He is wounded, sick, and exhausted. He + stands at the door a moment, listening intently; then hastily crosses to + the centre table looking for food. He bumps against the chair and + mutters an oath. Finding nothing on the table, he moves toward the + cupboard. Suddenly the galloping of horses is heard in the distance. The + NORTHERNER starts; then rushes to the window nearer the audience. For a + moment the sound ceases, then it begins again, growing gradually louder + and louder. The NORTHERNER hurries through the door left. Horses and + voices are heard, in the yard, and almost immediately heavy thundering + knocks sound on the door back. A racket is heard above stairs. The + knockers on the door grow impatient, and push the door open. A large, + powerful SOUTHERN SERGEANT and a smaller, more youthful TROOPER of the + same army enter. At the same time, THADDEUS appears on the stairs, + carrying a candle.] + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT [to THADDEUS; not unkindly]. Sorry, my friend, but you were so + darn slow 'bout openin' the door, that we had to walk in. Has there been + a Northern soldier round here to-day? + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS [timidly]. I ain't seed one. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. Have you been here all day? + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS. I ain't stirred from the place. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. Call the rest of your family down. + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS. My wife's all there is. [Goes to foot of stairs, and calls + loudly and excitedly.] Mary! Mary! Come down right off. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. You better not lie to me or it'll go tough with you. + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS. I swear I ain't seed no one. + </p> + <p> + [MARY comes downstairs slowly. She is all atremble.] + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS. Say, Mary, you was h—— + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. You keep still, man. I'll question her myself. [To MARY.] You + were here at the house all day? + </p> + <p> + [MARY is very fearful and embarrassed, but after a moment manages to nod + her head slowly.] You didn't take a trip down to the store? [MARY shakes + her head slowly.] Haven't you got a tongue? + </p> + <p> + MARY [with difficulty]. Y-e-s. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. Then use it. The Northern soldier who came here a while ago + was pretty badly wounded, wasn't he? + </p> + <p> + MARY. I—I—no one's been here. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. Come, come, woman, don't lie. [MARY shows a slight sign of + anger.] He had a bad cut in his forehead, and you felt sorry for him, + and gave him a bite to eat. + </p> + <p> + MARY [haltingly]. No one's been near the house to-day. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT [trying a different tone]. We're not going to hurt him, woman. + He's a friend of ours. We want to find him, and put him in a hospital, + don't we, Dick? [Turning to his companion.] + </p> + <p> + DICK. He's sick and needs to go to bed for a while. + </p> + <p> + MARY. He ain't here. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. What do you want to lie for? + </p> + <p> + MARY [quickly]. I ain't lyin'. I ain't seed no soldier. + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS. No one could 'a' come without her seein' 'em. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. I suppose you know what'll happen to you if you are hidin' the + man? [MARY stands rooted to the spot where she stopped when she came + downstairs. Her eyes are fixed on the SERGEANT.] + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS. There ain't no one here. We both been here all day, an' there + couldn't no one come without our knowin' it. What would they want round + here anyway? + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. We'll search the place. + </p> + <p> + MARY [quickly]. Ye ain't got no—— + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT [sharply]. What's that, woman? + </p> + <p> + MARY. There ain't no one here, an' ye're keepin' us from our sleep. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. Your sleep? This is an affair of life and death. Get us a + lantern. + </p> + <p> + [THADDEUS moves to the table which stands in front of the cubby-hole, + and lights the lantern from the candle which he holds in his hand. He + hands the lantern to the SERGEANT.] + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT [seeing the door to the cubby-hole]. Ha! Tryin' to hide the + door are you, by puttin' a table in front of it. You can't fool me. [To + THADDEUS.] Pull the table away and let's see what's behind the door. + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS. It's a cubby-hole an' ain't been opened in years. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT [sternly and emphatically]. I said to open the door. + </p> + <p> + [THADDEUS sets the candle on the larger table, moves the smaller table + to the right, and opens the door to the cubby-hole. Anger is seen on + MARY'S face. The SERGEANT takes a long-barrelled revolver from his belt, + and peers into the cubby-hole. He sees nothing.] + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT [returning his revolver to his belt]. We're goin' to tear this + place to pieces till we find him. You might just as well hand him over + now. + </p> + <p> + MARY. There ain't no one here. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. All right. Now we'll see. Dick, you stand guard at the door. + </p> + <p> + [DICK goes to the door back, and stands gazing out into the night—his + back to the audience.] + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT [to THADDEUS]. Come along, man. I'll have a look at the + upstairs. [To MARY.] You sit down in that chair [points to the chair at + right of table, and feeling for a sufficiently strong threat]. Don't you + stir or I'll—I'll set fire to your house. [To THADDEUS.] Go on + ahead. + </p> + <p> + [THADDEUS and the SERGEANT go upstairs. MARY sinks almost lifelessly + into the chair. She is the picture of fear. She sits facing left. + Suddenly she leans forward. The door left is being opened. She opens her + eyes wide and draws her breath sharply. She opens her mouth as though + she would scream, but makes no sound. The NORTHERNER comes slowly and + cautiously through the door. (DICK cannot see him because of the jog in + the wall.) MARY only stares in bewilderment at the NORTHERNER, as the + man, with eyes fixed appealingly on her, opens the door to the + cubby-hole and crawls inside.] + </p> + <p> + DICK. Woman! + </p> + <p> + MARY [almost with a cry—thinking that DICK has seen the + NORTHERNER]. Yes. + </p> + <p> + DICK. Have you got an apple handy? I'm starved. [MARY moves to the + cupboard to get the apple for DICK. The SERGEANT and THADDEUS come + downstairs. The SERGEANT, seeing that MARY is not where he left her, + looks about quickly and discovers her at the cupboard.] + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. Here, what'd I tell you I'd do if you moved from that chair? + </p> + <p> + MARY [with great fear]. Oh, I didn't—I only—he wanted—— + </p> + <p> + DICK. It's all right, Sergeant. I asked her to get me an apple. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. Dick, take this lantern and search the barn. [DICK takes the + lantern from the SERGEANT and goes out back.] [To THADDEUS.] Come in + here with me. [Takes the candle from centre table.] [The SERGEANT and + THADDEUS move toward the door left. As though in a stupor, MARY starts + to follow.] Sit down! [MARY falls into the chair at the right of the + centre table. The SERGEANT and THADDEUS go into the room at left. They + can be heard moving furniture about. MARY'S eyes fall on a pin on the + floor. She bends over, picks it up, and fastens it in her belt. The + SERGEANT and THADDEUS return.] + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. If I find him now, after all the trouble you've given me, you + know what'll happen. There's likely to be two dead men and a woman, + instead of only the Yankee. + </p> + <p> + DICK [bounding into the room]. Sergeant! + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. What is it? [DICK hurries to the SERGEANT and says something + in a low voice to him. Satisfaction shows on the latter's face.] + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. Now my good people, how did that horse get here? + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS. What horse? + </p> + <p> + DICK. There's a horse in the barn with a saddle on his back. I swear + he's been ridden lately. + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS [amazed]. There is? + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. You know it. [To MARY.] Come, woman, who drove that horse + here? + </p> + <p> + MARY [silent for a moment—her eyes on the floor]. I don't know. I + didn't hear nothin'. + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS [moving in the direction of the door back]. Let me go an' see. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT [pushing THADDEUS back]. No, you don't. You two have done + enough to justify the harshest measures. Show us the man's hiding-place. + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS. If there's anybody here, he's come in the night without our + knowin' it. I tell ye I didn't see anybody, an' she didn't, an'—— + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT [has been watching MARY]. Where is he? [The SERGEANT'S tone + makes THADDEUS jump. There is a pause, during which MARY seems trying to + compose herself. Then slowly, she lifts her eyes and looks at the + SERGEANT.] + </p> + <p> + MARY. There ain't nobody in the house 'cept us two. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT [to DICK]. Did you search all the outbuildings? + </p> + <p> + DICK. Yes. There's not a trace of him except the horse. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT [wiping the perspiration from his face; speaks with apparent + deliberation at first, but increases to great strength and emphasis]. He + didn't have much of a start of us, and I think he was wounded. A farmer + down the road said he heard hoof-beats. The man the other side of you + heard nothing, and the horse is in your barn. [Slowly draws revolver, + and points it at THADDEUS.] There are ways of making people confess. + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS [covering his face with his hands]. For God's sake, don't. I + know that horse looks bad—but as I live I ain't heard a sound, or + seen anybody. I'd give the man up in a minute if he was here. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT [lowering his gun]. Yes, I guess you would. You wouldn't want + me to hand you and your wife over to our army to be shot down like dogs. + [MARY shivers.] [Swings round sharply, and points the gun at MARY.] Your + wife knows where he's hid. + </p> + <p> + MARY [breaking out in irritating, rasping voice]. I'm sure I wish I did. + An' I'd tell ye quick, an' git ye out of here. 'Tain't no fun fer me to + have ye prowlin' all over my house. Ye ain't got no right t' torment me + like this. Lord knows how I'll git my day's work done, if I can't have + my sleep. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT [has been gazing at her in astonishment; lowers his gun]. Good + God, what a clod! Nothing but her own petty existence. [In different + voice to MARY.] I'll have to ask you to get us something to eat. We're + famished. [With relief, but showing some anger, MARY turns to the stove. + She lights the fire, and puts more coffee in the pot.] + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. Come, Dick, we better give our poor horses some water. They're + all tired out. [In lower voice.] The man isn't here. If he were, he + couldn't get away while we're in the yard. [To THADDEUS.] Get us a pail + to give the horses some water. [Sees the pails on the bench. Picks one + of them up and moves toward the door.] + </p> + <p> + MARY. That ain't the horses' pail. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT [to THADDEUS]. Come along, you can help. + </p> + <p> + MARY [louder]. That's the drinkin' water pail. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. That's all right. + </p> + <p> + [The SERGEANT, DICK, and THADDEUS go out back. MARY needs more wood for + the fire, so she follows them in a moment. When she has disappeared, the + NORTHERNER drags himself from the cubby-hole. He looks as though he + would fall with exhaustion. MARY returns with an armful of wood.] + </p> + <p> + MARY [sees the NORTHERNER. Shows no sympathy for the man in this speech, + nor during the entire scene]. Ye git back! Them soldiers'll see ye. + </p> + <p> + NORTHERNER. Some water. Quick. [Falls into chair at left of table.] It + was so hot in there. + </p> + <p> + MARY [gives him water in the dipper]. Don't ye faint here. If them + soldiers git ye, they'll kill me an' Thad. Hustle an' git back in the + cubby-hole. [MARY turns quickly to the stove. The NORTHERNER drinks the + water; puts dipper on table, then, summoning all his strength, rises and + crosses to MARY. He touches her on the shoulder. MARY is so startled, + that she jumps and utters a faint cry.] + </p> + <p> + NORTHERNER. Be still, or they'll hear you. How are you going to get me + out of this? + </p> + <p> + MARY [angrily]. Ye git out. Why did ye come here, a-bringin' me all this + extra work, an' maybe death? + </p> + <p> + NORTHERNER. I couldn't go any farther. My horse and I were both near + dropping. Won't you help me? + </p> + <p> + MARY. No, I won't. I don't know who ye are or nothin' 'bout ye, 'cept + that them men want t' ketch ye. [In a changed tone of curiosity.] Did ye + steal somethin' from 'em? + </p> + <p> + NORTHERNER. Don't you understand? Those men belong to the Confederacy, + and I'm a Northerner. They've been chasing me all day. [Pulling a bit of + crumpled paper from his breast.] They want this paper. If they get it + before to-morrow morning it will mean the greatest disaster that's ever + come to the Union army. + </p> + <p> + MARY [with frank curiosity]. Was it ye rode by yesterday? + </p> + <p> + NORTHERNER. Don't you see what you can do? Get me out of here and away + from those men, and you'll have done more than any soldier could do for + the country—for your country. + </p> + <p> + MARY. I ain't got no country. Me an' Thad's only got this farm. Thad's + ailin', an' I do most the work, an'—— + </p> + <p> + NORTHERNER. The lives of thirty thousand men hang by a thread. I must + save them. And you must help me. + </p> + <p> + MARY. I don't know nothin' 'bout ye, an' I don't know what ye're talkin' + 'bout. + </p> + <p> + NORTHERNER. Only help me get away. + </p> + <p> + MARY [angrily]. No one ever helped me or Thad. I lift no finger in this + business. Why ye come here in the first place is beyond me—sneakin' + round our house, spoilin' our well-earned sleep. If them soldiers ketch + ye, they'll kill me an' Thad. Maybe ye didn't know that. + </p> + <p> + NORTHERNER. What's your life and your husband's compared to thirty + thousand! I haven't any money or I'd give it to you. + </p> + <p> + MARY. I don't want yer money. + </p> + <p> + NORTHERNER. What do you want? + </p> + <p> + MARY. I want ye t' git away. I don't care what happens t' ye. Only git + out of here. + </p> + <p> + NORTHERNER. I can't with the Southerners in the yard. They'd shoot me + like a dog. Besides, I've got to have my horse. + </p> + <p> + MARY [with naive curiosity]. What kind o' lookin' horse is it? + </p> + <p> + NORTHERNER [dropping into chair at left of centre table in disgust and + despair]. O God! If I'd only turned in at the other farm. I might have + found people with red blood. [Pulls out his gun, and hopelessly opens + the empty chamber.] + </p> + <p> + MARY [alarmed]. What ye goin' t' do with that gun? + </p> + <p> + NORTHERNER. Don't be afraid. It's not load—— + </p> + <p> + MARY. I'd call 'em in, if I wasn't—— + </p> + <p> + NORTHERNER [leaping to the wall left and bracing himself against it]. Go + call them in. Save your poor skin and your husband's if you can. Call + them in. You can't save yourself. [Laughs hysterically.] You can't save + your miserable skin. Cause if they get me, and don't shoot you, I will. + </p> + <p> + MARY [leans against left side of centre table for support; in agony]. + Oh! + </p> + <p> + NORTHERNER. You see, you've got to help me whether you want to or not. + </p> + <p> + MARY [feeling absolutely caught]. I ain't done nothin'. I don't see why + ye an' them others come here a threatenin' t' shoot me. I don't want + nothin'. I don't want t' do nothin'. I jest want ye all t' git out a + here an' leave me an' Thad t' go t' sleep. Oh, I don't know what t' do. + Ye got me in a corner where I can't move. [Passes her hand back along + the table. Touches the dipper accidentally, and it falls to the floor. + Screams at the sound.] + </p> + <p> + NORTHERNER [leaping toward her]. Now you've done it. They'll be here in + a minute. You can't give me up. They'll shoot you if you do. They'll + shoot. [Hurries up the stairs, and disappears from sight.] + </p> + <p> + [MARY stands beside the table, trembling terribly. The SERGEANT, DICK, + and THADDEUS come running in.] + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. What did you yell for? [No answer.] [Seizing her by the arm.] + Answer! + </p> + <p> + MARY. I knocked the dipper off the table. It scared me. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT [dropping wearily into chair at left of centre table]. Well, + don't drop our breakfast. Put it on the table. We're ready. + </p> + <p> + MARY [stands gazing at him]. It ain't finished. + </p> + <p> + OFFICER [worn out by his day's work and MARY'S stupidity, from now on + absolutely brutish]. You've had time to cook a dozen meals. You're as + slow as a snail. What did you do all the time we were in the barn? + </p> + <p> + MARY. I didn't do nothin'. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. You lazy female. Now get a move on, and give us something fit + to eat. Don't try to get rid of any left-overs on us. If you do, you'll + suffer for it. + </p> + <p> + [MARY stands looking at him.] Don't you know anything, you brainless + farm-drudge? Hurry, I said. + </p> + <p> + [MARY turns to the stove. THADDEUS sits in chair at left of smaller + table.] + </p> + <p> + DICK. What a night. My stomach's as hollow as these people's heads. + [Takes towel which hangs above the bench and wipes the barrel of his gun + with it.] + </p> + <p> + MARY [sees DICK]. That's one of my best towels. + </p> + <p> + DICK. Can't help it. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. 'Tend to the breakfast. That's enough for you to do at one + time. + </p> + <p> + [DICK puts his gun on the smaller table, and sits at right of centre + table.] + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT [quietly to DICK]. I don't see how he gave us the slip. + </p> + <p> + DICK. He knew we were after him, and drove his horse in here, and went + on afoot. Clever scheme, I must admit. + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS [endeavoring to get them into conversation]. Have ye rid far + to-night, misters? + </p> + <p> + DICK [shortly]. Far enough. + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS. Twenty miles or so? + </p> + <p> + DICK. Perhaps. + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS. How long ye been chasin' the critter? + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. Shut up, man! Don't you see we don't want to talk to you. Take + hold and hurry, woman. My patience's at an end. + </p> + <p> + [MARY puts a loaf of bread, some fried eggs, and a coffee pot on the + table.] + </p> + <p> + MARY. There! I hope ye're satisfied. + </p> + <p> + [The SERGEANT and DICK pull their chairs to the table, and begin to + eat.] + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. Is this all we get? Come, it won't do you any good to be + stingy. [Obviously, from now on, everything the SERGEANT says drives + MARY nearer madness.] + </p> + <p> + MARY. It's all I got. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. It isn't a mouthful for a chickadee! Give us some butter. + </p> + <p> + MARY. There ain't none. + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. No butter on a farm? God, the way you lie! + </p> + MARY. I— + <p> + SERGEANT. Shut up! + </p> + <p> + DICK. Have you got any cider? + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. Don't ask. She and the man probably drank themselves stupid on + it. [Throws fork on floor.] I never struck such a place in my life. Get + me another fork. How do you expect me to eat with that bent thing? + </p> + <p> + [MARY stoops with difficulty and picks up the fork. Gets another from + the cupboard and gives it to the SERGEANT.] + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT. Now give us some salt. Don't you know that folks eat it on + eggs? + </p> + <p> + [MARY crosses to the cupboard; mistakes the pepper for the salt, and + puts it on the table.] + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT [sprinkles pepper on his food]. I said salt, woman! [Spelling.] + S-A-L-T. Salt! Salt! + </p> + <p> + [MARY goes to the cupboard; returns to the table with the salt. Almost + ready to drop, she drags herself to the window nearer back, and leans + against it, watching the SOUTHERNERS like a hunted animal. THADDEUS sits + nodding in the corner. The SERGEANT and DICK go on devouring the food. + The SERGEANT pours the coffee. Puts his cup to his lips, takes one + swallow; then, jumping to his feet and upsetting his chair as he does + so, he hurls his cup to the floor. The crash of china stirs THADDEUS. + MARY shakes in terror.] + </p> + <p> + SERGEANT [bellowing and pointing to the fluid trickling on the floor]. + Have you tried to poison us, you God damn hag? + </p> + <p> + [MARY screams, and the faces of the men turn white. It is like the cry + of the animal goaded beyond endurance.] + </p> + <p> + MARY [screeching]. Call my coffee poison, will ye? Call me a hag? I'll + learn ye! I'm a woman, and ye're drivin' me crazy. [Snatches the gun + from the wall, points it at the SERGEANT, and fires. Keeps on + screeching. The SERGEANT falls to the floor. DICK rushes for his gun.] + </p> + <p> + THADDEUS. Mary! Mary! + </p> + <p> + MARY [aiming at DICK, and firing]. I ain't a hag, I'm a woman, but ye're + killin' me. + </p> + <p> + [DICK falls just as he reaches his gun. THADDEUS is in the corner with + his hands over his ears. The NORTHERNER stands on the stairs. MARY + continues to pull the trigger of the empty gun. The NORTHERNER is + motionless for a moment; then he goes to THADDEUS, and shakes him.] + </p> + <p> + NORTHERNER. Go get my horse, quick! + </p> + <p> + [THADDEUS obeys. The NORTHERNER turns to MARY. She gazes at him, but + does not understand a word he says.] + </p> + <p> + NORTHERNER [with great fervor]. I'm ashamed of what I said. The whole + country will hear of this, and you. [Takes her hand, and presses it to + his lips; then turns and hurries out of the house. MARY still holds the + gun in her hand. She pushes a strand of gray hair back from her face, + and begins to pick up the fragments of the broken coffee cup.] + </p> + <p> + MARY [in dead, flat tone]. I'll have to drink out the tin cup now. + </p> + <p> + [The hoof-beats of the NORTHERNER'S horse are heard.] + </p> + <p> + Curtain. + </p> + <br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. EUGENICALLY SPEAKING + </h2> + <h3> + A One-Act Play + </h3> + <p> + By Edward Goodman + </p> + <p> + Copyright, 1914, by Edward Goodman + </p> + <p> + "Eugenically Speaking" was produced by the Washington Square Players, + under the direction of Philip Moeller, as part of their first program at + the Bandbox Theatre, New York City, beginning February 19, 1915. + </p> + <p> + In the cast, in the order of their appearance, were the following: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + UNA BRAITHEWAITE. Florence Enright + GEORGE COXEY. Karl Karsten + MR. BRAITHEWAITE. George C. Somnes + JARVIS a manservant Ralph Roeder +</pre> + <p> + The scene was designed by Engelbert Gminska and Miss Enright's costume by + Mrs. Edward Flammer. + </p> + <p> + "Eugenically Speaking" was subsequently revived by the Washington Square + Players at the Comedy Theatre, New York City, beginning August 30, 1916. + In this production Arthur Hohl played the part of George Coxey; Robert + Strange, Wm. Braithewaite; and Spalding Hall, Jarvis. + </p> + <p> + CHARACTERS + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + UNA. A girl + GEORGE COXEY. A conductor + MR. BRAITHEWAITE. A financier + JARVIS. A butler +</pre> + <div class="play"> + <p> + TIME: Between to-day and to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + SCENE: A room in the Braithewaite mansion, richly but tastefully + furnished. Among these furnishings it is necessary for the play to note, + besides the door at the back, only the table that stands a little to the + right of the centre of the room, with a statue on it, and three chairs + which stand, one to the right, one to the left, and one in the middle. + It is a winter afternoon, and the room is illuminated by invisible + lights. + </p> + <p> + Enter UNA, followed by GEORGE COXEY. UNA is a charming, fashionable girl + of twenty with a suave blend of will and poise. GEORGE COXEY is a + handsome, well-built, magnetic-looking youth of about twenty-five. He is + dressed in the garb of a street-car conductor and carries the cap in his + hand. Although somewhat inconvenienced and preoccupied with the novelty + of his surroundings and his situation, he remains, in the main, in + excellent self-possession, an occasional twinkle in his eye showing that + he is even quietly alive to a certain humor in the adventure. Above all, + his attitude is that rare one, which we like to feel typical of American + youth, of facing an unusual situation firmly, and seeing and grasping + its possibilities quickly. + </p> + <p> + He stands near the door, waiting, examining the room and warming his + hands, while UNA goes to the bell and rings it and then proceeds to the + mirror to primp a little. When she is finished she turns and notices + him. + </p> + <p> + UNA. Why, my dear man, sit down. [She points to a chair at the right.] + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Thanks, after you. + </p> + <p> + UNA [laughs]. Oh! Excuse me. I forgot. You're a car conductor. Naturally + you're polite. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Not naturally, Miss. But I've learned. + </p> + <p> + UNA. An apt pupil, too. Let me teach you then that the ruder you are to + a woman, the more she'll hate you—or love you. [She goes up to him + and invites him with a gesture.] Sit down. + </p> + <p> + [GEORGE remains immobile.] The polite are not only bourgeois, they're + boring. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. When I know I'm right, I stick to it. + </p> + <p> + UNA. But you must grow tired of standing. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. If I did, I'd lose my job. + </p> + <p> + UNA. You have already. Sit down. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE [firmly]. After you. + </p> + <p> + UNA [taking the chair, centre, and sitting on it]. You're splendid. Now! + </p> + <p> + [GEORGE sits in the offered chair a little stiffly.] + </p> + <p> + UNA. Isn't that better than ringing up fares? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE [smiling at his attempt at a pun]. Fairly. + </p> + <p> + UNA [rising, perturbed]. No! You mustn't do that. That's vulgar. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE [rising in alarm]. What have I done? + </p> + <p> + UNA [vexed again]. Sit down. You mustn't jump up when I do. [He remains + standing. Vexed but smiling she sits.] Well, there! [He sits down.] You + punned! You mustn't. We all like puns, but it's good form to call them + bad taste. + </p> + <p> + [Enter JARVIS the Butler.] + </p> + <p> + JARVIS [starts slightly at perceiving the situation, but controls + himself]. Did you ring for me, Miss? + </p> + <p> + UNA. Yes. Please tell my father that I'd like to see him at once. + </p> + <p> + [JARVIS goes out.] + </p> + <p> + UNA. Do you know the reason that you are here? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. The hundred dollars you gave me. + </p> + <p> + UNA. No—— + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Yes. I wouldn't have left my job if you hadn't given me that. + </p> + <p> + UNA. I suppose not. But I mean, do you know why I brought you here? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. I'm waiting to see. + </p> + <p> + UNA [enthusiastically]. I wonder if you'll like it. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Your father? + </p> + <p> + UNA. No. Dad's a dear. That is, he is when he sees you mean business. + </p> + <p> + [Enter MR. BRAITHEWAITE. He is a well-preserved man near sixty, almost + always completely master of himself. On seeing COXEY he, too, gives a + little start and then controls himself.] + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. Una, dear? + </p> + <p> + UNA [jumping up in excitement]. Oh, Daddy! I'm so glad you were in. [To + GEORGE who has risen, too.] Keep your seat. Draw up a chair, Dad—I've + done it. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. Done what? + </p> + <p> + UNA [bringing up a chair and placing it to her right]. Do sit down, Dad. + He's so delicious. He won't sit down till we do—and you know how + much they have to stand. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [looks at GEORGE and UNA and then sits in the chair + allotted to him, whereupon UNA sits in hers and then GEORGE sits down]. + Now, dear, what is it you have done? + </p> + <p> + UNA. Selected a husband. + </p> + <p> + [GEORGE moves a little uneasily. BRAITHEWAITE looks at GEORGE and then + speaks to UNA.] + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. You mean? + </p> + <p> + UNA [pointing to GEORGE]. Him! [GEORGE rises in discomfiture.] Do sit + down. We're all sitting now, you see. [GEORGE brings himself to sit down + again.] + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. But, my dear—— + </p> + <p> + UNA. Now don't say a word until you hear the whole story. You read that + article by Shaw in the Metropolitan, didn't you? I did. You remember + what he wrote? "The best eugenic guide is the sex attraction—the + Voice of Nature." He thinks the trouble is at present that we dare not + marry out of our own sphere. But I'll show you exactly what he says. + [She fusses in her handbag and pulls out a sheet of a magazine which she + unfolds as she says:] I always carry the article with me. It's so + stimulating. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [protesting]. You're not going to read me a whole Shaw + article, are you? It's five o'clock now and we've a dinner date at + eight, dear. + </p> + <p> + UNA. It's a Shaw article, not a Shaw preface. However, I'll only read + the passage I've marked. Listen. [She reads.] "I do not believe you will + ever have any improvement in the human race until you greatly widen the + area of possible sexual selection; until you make it as wide as the + numbers of the community make it. Just consider what occurs at the + present time. I walk down Oxford Street, let me say, as a young man." He + might just as well have said, "young woman," you know. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. And? + </p> + <p> + UNA [continues reading], "I see a woman who takes my fancy." With me it + would be a man, of course. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. For your purpose, of course. + </p> + <p> + UNA [continuing again]. "I fall in love with her. It would seem very + sensible in an intelligent community that I should take off my hat and + say to this lady: 'Will you excuse me; but you attract me strongly, and + if you are not already engaged, would you mind taking my name and + address and considering whether you would care to marry me?' + [BRAITHEWAITE looks uncomfortably at GEORGE who looks uncomfortable, + though amused, himself.] Now I have no such chance at present." + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. Exactly. You see, he admits it. + </p> + <p> + UNA. Yes, but why shouldn't I have the chance? That set me thinking. I + decided he was right. I am intelligent, am I not? + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. I refuse to commit myself, dear, until I hear all your + story. + </p> + <p> + UNA. Well, I decided I'd make the chance. You see, I—I've been led + to think recently that I ought to be getting married. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. May I ask why? + </p> + <p> + UNA. Yes, dear, but I'd rather not answer. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. I beg pardon. + </p> + <p> + UNA. And when I looked about me for the possibilities in my own set, I—[she + makes a face]—well, I wasn't attracted. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. I admit, in society, as a rule, the women grow stronger + and the men weaker. + </p> + <p> + UNA. Exactly. And I knew you wanted to be a proud grandfather. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. You're mistaken, dear. I hadn't given the subject any + thought; so I had no desires. + </p> + <p> + UNA. Well, I have... [BRAITHEWAITE slightly shows that he is perhaps + shocked. UNA notices this and continues in explanation] given the + subject a good deal of thought. I've spent days buying second-hand + clothing to give away at the missions and lodging houses in order to + have a look. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. At least there was charity in that. + </p> + <p> + UNA. Yes. You see I didn't want charity to have to begin at my home. + Self-preservation is the first law of Nature. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. And self-propagation, I suppose, the second. + </p> + <p> + UNA. Well—the missions were no good. They were all so starved and + pinched-looking there I couldn't tell what they'd be like if they got + proper nourishment. And I didn't want to take a chance. So I went to + some coal yards. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. To find the devil not so black as painted? + </p> + <p> + UNA [with a grimace]. Blacker! I couldn't see what they looked like. Of + course if I could have asked them to wash their faces. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [looking at GEORGE]. Considering what you have done, I + don't see—— + </p> + <p> + UNA. I did ask one, but he made some vulgar remark about black dirt and + red paint. So I left him. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. And then? + </p> + <p> + UNA. I spent all to-day riding up and down town in street cars. It's + very fascinating, Dad. All you can see for a nickel! I never realized + what a public benefactor you were. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [modestly]. Oh, I am amply repaid. + </p> + <p> + UNA [in explanation to GEORGE]. Dad's the president of your traction + company, you know. [GEORGE rises in fright.] Oh, that's all right. I've + lost you your job, but I'll get you a better one as I promised. Don't be + afraid of Dad—in the parlor. Sit down. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [to GEORGE]. You might as well make yourself physically + comfortable, you know. There's no telling how my daughter may make us + feel in other ways. + </p> + <p> + [GEORGE sits down again, regaining his composure a little.] + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [to UNA]. And so to-day you investigated travelling in + street cars? + </p> + <p> + UNA. Yes. "Joy-riding," you know. Then I saw him—and decided. I + knew he wouldn't dare to propose to me—under existing conditions. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. So you asked him to marry you? + </p> + <p> + UNA. Certainly not. I've too much consideration for you, dear. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. But I thought you said——? + </p> + <p> + UNA. I decided to bring him home to get your consent first. + [BRAITHEWAITE starts to say something.] I knew you'd approve when you + saw him. But I wanted to be sure I hadn't overlooked anything. And if I + had, I didn't want to have raised his hopes for nothing. [To GEORGE.] + Would you mind standing a moment, now, until Dad looks you over? + </p> + <p> + [GEORGE fidgets a little in embarrassment.] + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. My dear, do you think the gentleman——? + </p> + <p> + UNA. "Gentleman!" Oh, yes, I forgot. I needn't have been so clumsy. [She + rises. GEORGE rises automatically. She continues to GEORGE.] I + apologize. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [also rising and moving his chair aside]. I fear you have + been too rude. + </p> + <p> + UNA. So do I. I've never even introduced you. Father, this is—this + is—— [To GEORGE.] By the way—I forgot to ask—what + is your name? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Coxey, Miss. + </p> + <p> + UNA [sounding it]. Coxey. What's the first name? I can't call my husband + "Coxey," you know. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. George, Miss. + </p> + <p> + UNA [triumphantly]. George! There's a fine virile name for you. George + Coxey! How strong that sounds! One of those names that would go equally + well in the blue book or the police blotter. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. I never—— + </p> + <p> + UNA. Don't disclaim. I know you've never been arrested. One can see your + goodness in your face. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [reprovingly]. Many of the best people go to jail now, + dear. + </p> + <p> + UNA. I know. But he's not rich and thank heaven he's not a fanatic. + Isn't he good-looking? And I'm sure he's strong. See those hands of his—a + little rough, of course, but I like that, and so firm and, for his job, + wonderfully clean. Don't hide them, George. They attracted me from the + start. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. How did you come here with my daughter at all, sir? + </p> + <p> + UNA [quickly]. I got off with him at the car barn when he finished his + run and asked him. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. Didn't you know you would lose your job by leaving that + way? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE [with a suppressed smile]. Yes, sir. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. And you came at any rate? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. You see, sir, she gave me—— + </p> + <p> + UNA [interrupting hurriedly]. A beseeching look. Just one. I didn't use + more than was necessary. [Pointedly to GEORGE.] You see, George, I have + learnt economy from father. He hates me to be extravagant. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. That, my dear, is the chief objection I have to this + episode—it's extravagance. + </p> + <p> + UNA. Please don't call it an "episode," father. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. You must admit it's—rather unusual. + </p> + <p> + UNA. In England, lords always marry chorus girls. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. But he is a conductor. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE [angry]. Yes. And conductors are—— + </p> + <p> + UNA. As hard working as chorus girls—only. Don't be snobbish, + George. Of course a conductor is more unusual, I admit. I can't help + that though—— [To her father.] You shouldn't have called me + "Una," if you didn't want me to be unique. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [reminiscently]. That was most unfortunate—most. It + was your mother's idea. She believed in symbols—and in a small + family. + </p> + <p> + UNA. Oh! Was that why——? Well, no matter. I've always + thought it meant individuality and I've done my best to live up to it. + [She looks at the statue.] That statue ought to be on the other side of + the room. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. I'll have some of the men move it to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + UNA. I'd like to see the effect now. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [slightly annoyed at this seeming irrelevance]. I wish I + could teach you concentration. I'm not strong enough to move it myself, + dear, and—— + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Can I? + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. Why— + </p> + <p> + UNA. Oh! If you would! + </p> + <p> + [GEORGE goes over to it and then hesitates what to do with his cap which + he has in his hand.] + </p> + <p> + UNA. I'll take that. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE [giving it to her]. Thanks. [He bends and lifts the statue + without effort, while UNA watches him admiringly, fingering his cap. + When he reaches the other side of the room he stops, waveringly, + awaiting instructions.] + </p> + <p> + UNA [talking as GEORGE waits]. Look at him. He's as fine as the statue, + isn't he? And you know what you think of that. See the strength he has? + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. Well—— + </p> + <p> + UNA [to GEORGE]. Thank you so much. You may put it back again. That was + all I wanted. [After GEORGE has.] I hope I didn't overtax you. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Oh, it ain't very heavy. + </p> + <p> + UNA [triumphantly to her father]. You see! + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. But he uses "ain't." + </p> + <p> + UNA [imitating the reproof of her father]. Many of the best people use + "ain't" now, dear. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. Not with his enunciation. + </p> + <p> + UNA. What was yours like when you were a railroad signalman? + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. Una! The past of a public man should be private. + </p> + <p> + UNA. George has our children's future before him. All the others I know + have only their parents' past behind. You could give him a job suitable + for my husband. I'll make my husband suitable for the job. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. But you don't know him, my dear. + </p> + <p> + UNA. I don't know myself for that matter. If I don't like him, it's easy + enough to go to Reno. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. Then you insist? + </p> + <p> + UNA. I'm tremendously eager. It's so unusual. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. I suppose I could sue Shaw. + </p> + <p> + UNA. Don't be silly. Sue an Englishman with German sympathies! Where's + your neutrality? + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [sinking into a chair]. Very well. + </p> + <p> + UNA [running up to GEORGE with delight]. Then it's settled, dear. We're + going to marry. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Excuse me, Miss, we ain't. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [shocked]. "Ain't" again! + </p> + <p> + UNA [correcting]. "Aren't," dear—I mean, we are. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Not. + </p> + <p> + UNA [backing away]. Why not? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Because—I'm married already. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [rising]. What? + </p> + <p> + UNA. How annoying! + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Married three years, and expecting a baby, Miss. + </p> + <p> + UNA [troubled]. Oh, please! + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. You see what plunging means. I told you I believed in + eugenic examinations first. + </p> + <p> + UNA [walking up and down, thinking]. Sh! Be quiet, father. Don't lose + your head. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. Better than losing your heart. + </p> + <p> + UNA [laughing]. I have it. Of course. How stupid of me not to think. + George. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Yes, Miss. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. Wouldn't you better call him "Mr. Coxey" now? + </p> + <p> + UNA [paying no heed to her father's remark]. George, you must divorce + your wife. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Me? Why she's as good as gold and—— + </p> + <p> + UNA. That's unfortunate. [Thinking.] Then I'll have to run away with you + and let her get the divorce. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [now really shocked]. Una! + </p> + <p> + UNA [innocently]. What, Dad? Have you something better to suggest? + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [fuming]. I can't permit it. I didn't mind the uncommon + scandal of your marrying a car conductor, but I absolutely draw the line + at common scandal. + </p> + <p> + UNA [a little bored]. Father, dear, why will you sometimes talk to me as + though I were the Public Service Commission? There's going to be no + scandal. You can keep it out of the newspapers. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Excuse me, but that don't make any difference. I don't want to + get a divorce. + </p> + <p> + UNA. You don't? Why? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE [embarrassed]. Sounds like a song, I know, but—I love my + wife. + </p> + <p> + UNA [in despair]. And you're the unusual man I'm to marry. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [with the contempt of a professional toward an amateur]. + Stealing nickels doesn't develop the imagination. + </p> + <p> + UNA [desperately]. How can you love your wife? Some simple, economizing, + prosaic, hausfrau who—— + </p> + <p> + GEORGE [with spirit]. I don't know what you're saying, but you better be + careful not to insult my wife. She's as good as you are and a rector's + daughter. + </p> + <p> + UNA [dumbfounded]. What? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Yes. Daughter of one of the biggest sky-pilots in town. I met + her at a settlement house. She put the question to me, too. + </p> + <p> + UNA [angry and doubting]. She——? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Sure. I've been through something like this before or I'd never + been able to stand it so well. + </p> + <p> + UNA [as before]. Your wife——? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Had a good deal more pluck than you, though. Up and told her + father she would marry me if he liked it or lumped it. He said he'd cut + her. And he did. We never seen him since. But Naomi and I don't care. + That's her name; so you can see she's a Bible-poacher's daughter. Naomi + and I've been happier than any people on earth. [Sternly.] She's taught + me to stand when a lady was standing. That's why I wouldn't obey you. + She's teaching me how to speak, too, and if I do say "ain't" and a lot + of other things I oughtn't to when I'm excited, that ai—isn't her + fault. + </p> + <p> + UNA. Then she—Naomi—has done everything unusual that I + wanted to do, before I did? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Sure. You can't be unusual to-day. Too much brains been in the + world before. + </p> + <p> + UNA. How is it I never heard this story, if her father's so well known? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. D'you think your father's the only one can keep things out of + the papers? + </p> + <p> + UNA [going over and weeping on her father's shoulder]. Oh! And I wanted + to be unique. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [patting her]. There, there, dear. [To GEORGE.] You'd + better go, now, Coxey. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. And my job? + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. I'll see you still keep it. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Thanks. I don't want to. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. No? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. I want a better. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [putting his daughter aside]. Indeed! Pray what? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE [nonchalantly]. Superintendent or something. I leave it to you. + You know more about what jobs there are than I do. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [controlling his anger]. And on what basis do you ask for a + better job? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Naomi always said my chance would come and I could take it, if I + had nerve and my eyes open. I think now's the time. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. Why? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Oh, this story about your daughter wouldn't look nice. + </p> + <p> + UNA. Oh! + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. You forget the power your father-in-law and I have in the + press. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. No, I don't. But I remember that you can't keep me from + spreading the news among your men. And I don't think—— + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [angry and advancing on him]. I could have you prosecuted + for blackmail, sir. Have you no honor? + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Sure. My honor says provide for your family. I've got the + makings of a big man in me, Mr. Braithewaite. You can't chain me down + with a poor man's morals. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE. Well! I—— + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. I'll work in any job you give me, too. I'm not asking for a + cinch, only a chance. If she— [pointing to UNA]—could teach + me, Naomi can. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [after a pause]. Well, call around at my office in the + morning. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Thanks. [He goes out.] + </p> + <p> + UNA [sitting to weep]. And I thought I could be unusual. + </p> + <p> + BRAITHEWAITE [patting her]. It's easy enough for Shaw, dear. He only + writes it. + </p> + <p> + UNA [jumping up]. That's it. I'll write it. I'll write a play showing + it's useless trying to escape the usual. [Running up to her father, + GEORGE'S cap in her hands.] That will be unusual, won't it, Dad? + </p> + <p> + [Reenter GEORGE.] + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. Excuse me. I left my cap. + </p> + <p> + UNA [stretching it out to him without looking at him]. Here it is. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE [taking it]. Thanks. [Approaching her.] Buck up, Miss! You meant + well. + </p> + <p> + UNA. I suppose I was too daring. + </p> + <p> + GEORGE. If you ask me, I think the trouble was you and that Shaw fellow + wasn't daring enough. Marriage is a very particular sort of business. + Now if you'd come up to me in the street and just asked me to—— + [UNA and BRAITHEWAITE look at GEORGE.] Well—I—I guess I'll + go. But remember my tip next try, Miss. + </p> + <p> + [He goes out quickly, leaving UNA gradually grasping the idea and + appreciating it, while her father's shock at what GEORGE has said is + increased only by noticing his daughter's reception of the words.] + </p> + <p> + Curtain. + </p> + <br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + III. OVERTONES + </h2> + <h3> + A One-Act Play + </h3> + <p> + By Alice Gerstenberg + </p> + <p> + Author of "Unquenched Fire," "The Conscience of Sarah Platt," and + Dramatization of "Alice in Wonderland," etc. + </p> + <p> + Copyright, 1913, by Alice Gerstenberg + </p> + <p> + "Overtones" was produced by the Washington Square Players under the + direction of Edward Goodman at the Bandbox Theatre, New York City, + beginning November 8, 1915, to represent an American one-act play on a + bill of four comparative comedies, "Literature" by Arthur Schnitzler of + Austria, "The Honorable Lover" by Roberto Bracco of Italy, and "Whims" by + Alfred de Musset of France. In the cast were the following: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HETTY. Josephine A. Meyer + HARRIET, her overtone. Agnes McCarthy + MAGGIE. Noel Haddon + MARGARET, her overtone. Grace Griswold +</pre> + <p> + The scene was designed by Lee Simonson and the costumes and draperies by + Bertha Holley. + </p> + <p> + "Overtones" was subsequently presented in vaudeville by Martin Beck, + beginning at the Palace Theatre, Chicago, February 28, 1916, with Helena + Lackaye as star, with the following cast: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARRIET, a cultured woman Helene Lackaye + HETTY, her primitive self. Ursula Faucett + MARGARET, a cultured woman Francesca Rotoli + MAGGIE, her primitive self. Nellie Dent +</pre> + <p> + The scene was designed by Jerome Blum. + </p> + <p> + CHARACTERS + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HARRIET, a cultured woman + HETTY, her primitive self + MARGARET, a cultured woman + MAGGIE, her primitive self +</pre> + <div class="play"> + <p> + TIME: The present. + </p> + <p> + SCENE: HARRIET'S fashionable living-room. The door at the back leads to + the hall. In the centre a tea table with a chair either side. At the + back a cabinet. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET'S gown is a light, "jealous" green. Her counterpart, HETTY, + wears a gown of the same design but in a darker shade. MARGARET wears a + gown of lavender chiffon while her counterpart, MAGGIE, wears a gown of + the same design in purple, a purple scarf veiling her face. Chiffon is + used to give a sheer effect, suggesting a possibility of primitive and + cultured selves merging into one woman. The primitive and cultured + selves never come into actual physical contact but try to sustain the + impression of mental conflict. HARRIET never sees HETTY, never talks to + her but rather thinks aloud looking into space. HETTY, however, looks at + HARRIET, talks intently and shadows her continually. The same is true of + MARGARET and MAGGIE. The voices of the cultured women are affected and + lingering, the voices of the primitive impulsive and more or less + staccato. When the curtain rises HARRIET is seated right of tea table, + busying herself with the tea things. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. Harriet. [There is no answer.] Harriet, my other self. [There is + no answer.] My trained self. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [listens intently]. Yes? [From behind HARRIET'S chair HETTY + rises slowly.] + </p> + <p> + HETTY. I want to talk to you. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Well? + </p> + <p> + HETTY [looking at HARRIET admiringly]. Oh, Harriet, you are beautiful + to-day. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Am I presentable, Hetty? + </p> + <p> + HETTY. Suits me. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. I've tried to make the best of the good points. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. My passions are deeper than yours. I can't keep on the mask as + you do. I'm crude and real, you are my appearance in the world. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. I am what you wish the world to believe you are. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. You are the part of me that has been trained. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. I am your educated self. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. I am the rushing river; you are the ice over the current. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. I am your subtle overtones. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. But together we are one woman, the wife of Charles Goodrich. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. There I disagree with you, Hetty, I alone am his wife. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [indignantly]. Harriet, how can you say such a thing! + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Certainly. I am the one who flatters him. I have to be the one + who talks to him. If I gave you a chance you would tell him at once that + you dislike him. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [moving away], I don't love him, that's certain. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. You leave all the fibbing to me. He doesn't suspect that my + calm, suave manner hides your hatred. Considering the amount of scheming + it causes me it can safely be said that he is my husband. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. Oh, if you love him—— + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. I? I haven't any feelings. It isn't my business to love + anybody. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. Then why need you object to calling him my husband? + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. I resent your appropriation of a man who is managed only + through the cleverness of my artifice. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. You may be clever enough to deceive him, Harriet, but I am still + the one who suffers. I can't forget he is my husband. I can't forget + that I might have married John Caldwell. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. How foolish of you to remember John, just because we met his + wife by chance. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. That's what I want to talk to you about. She may be here at any + moment. I want to advise you about what to say to her this afternoon. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. By all means tell me now and don't interrupt while she is here. + You have a most annoying habit of talking to me when people are present. + Sometimes it is all I can do to keep my poise and appear not to be + listening to you. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. Impress her. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Hetty, dear, is it not my custom to impress people? + </p> + <p> + HETTY. I hate her. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. I can't let her see that. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. I hate her because she married John. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Only after you had refused him. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [turning on HARRIET]. Was it my fault that I refused him? + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. That's right, blame me. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. It was your fault. You told me he was too poor and never would be + able to do anything in painting. Look at him now, known in Europe, just + returned from eight years in Paris, famous. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. It was too poor a gamble at the time. It was much safer to + accept Charles's money and position. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. And then John married Margaret within the year. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Out of spite. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. Freckled, gawky-looking thing she was, too. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [a little sadly]. Europe improved her. She was stunning the + other morning. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. Make her jealous to-day. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Shall I be haughty or cordial or caustic or—— + </p> + <p> + HETTY. Above all else you must let her know that we are rich. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Oh, yes, I do that quite easily now. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. You must put it on a bit. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Never fear. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. Tell her I love my husband. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. My husband—— + </p> + <p> + HETTY. Are you going to quarrel with me? + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [moves away]. No, I have no desire to quarrel with you. It is + quite too uncomfortable. I couldn't get away from you if I tried. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [stamping her foot and following HARRIET]. You were a stupid fool + to make me refuse John, I'll never forgive you—never—— + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [stopping and holding up her hand]. Don't get me all excited. + I'll be in no condition to meet her properly this afternoon. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [passionately]. I could choke you for robbing me of John. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [retreating]. Don't muss me! + </p> + <p> + HETTY. You don't know how you have made me suffer. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [beginning to feel the strength of HETTY'S emotion surge through + her and trying to conquer it]. It is not my business to have heartaches. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. You're bloodless. Nothing but sham—sham—while I—— + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [emotionally]. Be quiet! I can't let her see that I have been + fighting with my inner self. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. And now after all my suffering you say it has cost you more than + it has cost me to be married to Charles. But it's the pain here in my + heart—I've paid the price—I've paid——Charles is + not your husband! + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [trying to conquer emotion]. He is. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [follows HARRIET]. He isn't. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [weakly]. He is. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [towering over HARRIET]. He isn't! I'll kill you! + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [overpowered, sinks into a chair]. Don't—don't—you're + stronger than I—you're—— + </p> + <p> + HETTY. Say he's mine. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. He's ours. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [the telephone rings]. There she is now. + </p> + <p> + [HETTY hurries to 'phone but HARRIET regains her supremacy.] + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [authoritatively]. Wait! I can't let the telephone girl down + there hear my real self. It isn't proper. [At 'phone.] Show Mrs. + Caldwell up. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. I'm so excited, my heart's in my mouth. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [at the mirror]. A nice state you've put my nerves into. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. Don't let her see you're nervous. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. *Quick, put the veil on, or she'll see you shining through me. + [HARRIET takes a scarf of chiffon that has been lying over the back of a + chair and drapes it on HETTY, covering her face. The chiffon is the same + color of their gowns but paler in shade so that it pales HETTY'S darker + gown to match HARRIET'S lighter one. As HETTY moves in the following + scene the chiffon falls away revealing now and then the gown of deeper + dye underneath.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * (The vaudeville production did not use Harriet's line + about the veil because at the rise of the curtain Hetty is + already veiled in chiffon the same dark green shade as her + gown.) +</pre> + <p> + HETTY. Tell her Charles is rich and fascinating—boast of our + friends, make her feel she needs us. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. I'll make her ask John to paint us. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. That's just my thought—if John paints our portrait—— + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. We can wear an exquisite gown—— + </p> + <p> + HETTY. And make him fall in love again and—— + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [schemingly]. Yes. + </p> + <p> + [MARGARET parts the portieres back centre and extends her hand. MARGARET + is followed by her counterpart MAGGIE.] Oh, MARGARET, I'm so glad to see + you! + </p> + <p> + HETTY [to MAGGIE]. That's a lie. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [in superficial voice throughout]. It's enchanting to see you, + Harriet. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [in emotional voice throughout]. I'd bite you, if I dared. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [to MARGARET]. Wasn't our meeting a stroke of luck? + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [coming down left of table]. I've thought of you so often, + HARRIET; and to come back and find you living in New York. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [coming down right of table]. Mr. Goodrich has many interests + here. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Flatter her. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. I know, Mr. Goodrich is so successful. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [to HARRIET]. Tell her we're rich. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [to MARGARET]. Won't you sit down? + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [takes a chair]. What a beautiful cabinet!* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * What beautiful lamps! (In vaudeville production.) +</pre> + <p> + HARRIET. Do you like it? I'm afraid Charles paid an extravagant price. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to HETTY]. I don't believe it. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [sitting down. To HARRIET]. I am sure he must have. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [sitting down]. How well you are looking, Margaret. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. Yes, you are not. There are circles under your eyes. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to HETTY]. I haven't eaten since breakfast and I'm hungry. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [to HARRIET]. How well you are looking, too. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to HETTY]. You have hard lines about your lips, are you happy? + </p> + <p> + HETTY [to HARRIET]. Don't let her know that I'm unhappy. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [to MARGARET]. Why shouldn't I look well? My life is full, + happy, complete—— + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I wonder. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [in HARRIET'S ear]. Tell her we have an automobile. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [to HARRIET]. My life is complete, too. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. My heart is torn with sorrow; my husband cannot make a living. + He will kill himself if he does not get an order for a painting. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [laughs]. You must come and see us in our studio. John has been + doing some excellent portraits. He cannot begin to fill his orders. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [to HARRIET]. Tell her we have an automobile. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [to MARGARET]. Do you take lemon in your tea? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Take cream. It's more filling. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [looking nonchalantly at tea things]. No, cream, if you please. + How cozy! + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [glaring at tea things]. Only cakes! I could eat them all! + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [to MARGARET]. How many lumps? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Sugar is nourishing. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [to HARRIET], Three, please. I used to drink very sweet coffee + in Turkey and ever since I've—— + </p> + <p> + HETTY. I don't believe you were ever in Turkey. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I wasn't, but it is none of your business. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [pouring tea]. Have you been in Turkey, do tell me about it. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Change the subject. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [to HARRIET]. You must go there. You have so much taste in + dress you would enjoy seeing their costumes. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Isn't she going to pass the cake? + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [to HARRIET]. John painted several portraits there. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [to HARRIET]. Why don't you stop her bragging and tell her we have + an automobile? + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [offers cake across the table to MARGARET]. Cake? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [stands back of MARGARET, shadowing her as HETTY shadows HARRIET. + MAGGIE reaches claws out for the cake and groans with joy]. At last! + [But her claws do not touch the cake.] + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [with a graceful, nonchalant hand places cake upon her plate + and bites at it slowly and delicately]. Thank you. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [to HARRIET]. Automobile! + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Follow up the costumes with the suggestion that + she would make a good model for John. It isn't too early to begin + getting what you came for. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [ignoring MAGGIE]. What delicious cake. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [excitedly to HARRIET]. There's your chance for the auto. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [nonchalantly to MARGARET]. Yes, it is good cake, isn't it? + There are always a great many people buying it at Harper's. I sat in my + automobile fifteen minutes this morning waiting for my chauffeur to get + it. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Make her order a portrait. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [to HARRIET]. If you stopped at Harper's you must have noticed + the new gowns at Henderson's. Aren't the shop windows alluring these + days? + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Even my chauffeur notices them. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I know you have an automobile, I heard you the first time. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. I notice gowns now with an artist's eye as John does. The one + you have on, my dear, is very paintable. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. Don't let her see you're anxious to be painted. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [nonchalantly]. Oh, it's just a little model. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Don't seem anxious to get the order. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [nonchalantly]. Perhaps it isn't the gown itself but the way + you wear it that pleases the eye. Some people can wear anything with + grace. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. Yes, I'm very graceful. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [to MARGARET]. You flatter me, my dear. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. On the contrary, Harriet, I have an intense admiration for + you. I remember how beautiful you were—as a girl. In fact, I was + quite jealous when John was paying you so much attention. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. She is gloating because I lost him. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Those were childhood days in a country town. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. She's trying to make you feel that John was only a + country boy. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. Most great men have come from the country. There is a fair + chance that John will be added to the list. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. I know it and I am bitterly jealous of you. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Undoubtedly he owes much of his success to you, Margaret, your + experience in economy and your ability to endure hardship. Those first + few years in Paris must have been a struggle. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. She is sneering at your poverty. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. Yes, we did find life difficult at first, not the luxurious + start a girl has who marries wealth. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [to HARRIET]. Deny that you married Charles for his money. + [HARRIET deems it wise to ignore HETTY'S advice.] + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. But John and I are so congenial in our tastes, that we were + impervious to hardship or unhappiness. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [in anguish]. Do you love each other? Is it really true? + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [sweetly]. Did you have all the romance of starving for his art? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. She's taunting you. Get even with her. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. Not for long. Prince Rier soon discovered John's genius, and + introduced him royally to wealthy Parisians who gave him many orders. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [to MAGGIE]. Are you telling the truth or are you lying? + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. If he had so many opportunities there, you must have had great + inducements to come back to the States. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to HETTY]. We did, but not the kind you think. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. John became the rage among Americans travelling in France, + too, and they simply insisted upon his coming here. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Whom is he going to paint here? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [frightened]. What names dare I make up? + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [calmly]. Just at present Miss Dorothy Ainsworth of Oregon is + posing. You may not know the name, but she is the daughter of a wealthy + miner who found gold in Alaska. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. I dare say there are many Western people we have never heard + of. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. You must have found social life in New York very interesting, + Harriet, after the simplicity of our home town. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [to MAGGIE]. There's no need to remind us that our beginnings were + the same. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Of course Charles's family made everything delightful for me. + They are so well connected. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Flatter her. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. I heard it mentioned yesterday that you had made yourself very + popular. Some one said you were very clever! + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [pleased]. Who told you that? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Nobody! + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [pleasantly]. Oh, confidences should be suspected—respected, + I mean. They said, too, that you are gaining some reputation as a critic + of art. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. I make no pretenses. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. Are you and Mr. Goodrich interested in the same things, too? + </p> + <p> + HETTY. No! + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Yes, indeed, Charles and I are inseparable. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I wonder. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Do have another cake. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [in relief]. Oh, yes. [Again her claws extend but do not touch + the cake.] + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [takes cake delicately]. I really shouldn't—after my big + luncheon. John took me to the Ritz and we are invited to the Bedfords' + for dinner—they have such a magnificent house near the drive—I + really shouldn't, but the cakes are so good. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Starving! + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [to MARGARET]. More tea? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Yes! + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. No, thank you. How wonderfully life has arranged itself for + you. Wealth, position, a happy marriage, every opportunity to enjoy all + pleasures; beauty, art—how happy you must be. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [in anguish]. Don't call me happy. I've never been happy since I + gave up John. All these years without him—a future without him—no—no—I + shall win him back—away from you—away from you—— + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [does not see MAGGIE pointing to cream and MARGARET stealing + some]. I sometimes think it is unfair for any one to be as happy as I + am. Charles and I are just as much in love now as when we married. To me + he is just the dearest man in the world. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [passionately]. My John is. I love him so much I could die for + him. I'm going through hunger and want to make him great and he loves + me. He worships me! + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [leisurely to HARRIET]. I should like to meet Mr. Goodrich. + Bring him to our studio. John has some sketches to show. Not many, + because all the portraits have been purchased by the subjects. He gets + as much as four thousand dollars now. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [to HARRIET]. Don't pay that much. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [to MARGARET]. As much as that? + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. It is not really too much when one considers that John is in + the foremost rank of artists to-day. A picture painted by him now will + double and treble in value. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. It's all a lie. He is growing weak with despair. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Does he paint all day long? + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. No, he draws advertisements for our bread. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [to HARRIET]. When you and your husband come to see us, + telephone first—— + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Yes, so he can get the advertisements out of the way. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. Otherwise you might arrive while he has a sitter, and John + refuses to let me disturb him then. + </p> + <p> + HETTY. Make her ask for an order. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [to MARGARET]. Le Grange offered to paint me for a thousand. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. Louis Le Grange's reputation isn't worth more than that. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Well, I've heard his work well mentioned. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. Yes, he is doing splendid work. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. Oh, dear me, no. He is only praised by the masses. He is + accepted not at all by artists themselves. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [anxiously]. Must I really pay the full price? + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Le Grange thought I would make a good subject. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Let her fish for it. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. Of course you would. Why don't you let Le Grange paint you, if + you trust him? + </p> + <p> + HETTY. She doesn't seem anxious to have John do it. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. But if Le Grange isn't accepted by artists, it would be a waste + of time to pose for him, wouldn't it? + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. Yes, I think it would. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [passionately to HETTY across back of table]. Give us the order. + John is so despondent he can't endure much longer. Help us! Help me! + Save us! + </p> + <p> + HETTY [to HARRIET]. Don't seem too eager. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. And yet if he charges only a thousand one might consider it. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. If you really wish to be painted, why don't you give a little + more and have a portrait really worth while? John might be induced to do + you for a little below his usual price considering that you used to be + such good friends. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [in glee]. Hurrah! + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [quietly to MARGARET]. That's very nice of you to suggest—of + course I don't know—— + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [in fear]. For God's sake, say yes. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [quietly to HARRIET]. Of course, I don't know whether John + would. He is very peculiar in these matters. He sets his value on his + work and thinks it beneath him to discuss price. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [to MAGGIE]. You needn't try to make us feel small. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. Still, I might quite delicately mention to him that inasmuch + as you have many influential friends you would be very glad to—to—— + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to HETTY]. Finish what I don't want to say. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [to HARRIET]. Help her out. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Oh, yes, introductions will follow the exhibition of my + portrait. No doubt I—— + </p> + <p> + HETTY [to HARRIET]. Be patronizing. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. No doubt I shall be able to introduce your husband to his + advantage. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [relieved]. Saved. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. If I find John in a propitious mood I shall take pleasure, for + your sake, in telling him about your beauty. Just as you are sitting now + would be a lovely pose. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. We can go now. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [to HARRIET]. Don't let her think she is doing us a favor. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. It will give me pleasure to add my name to your husband's list + of patronesses. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [excitedly to MARGARET]. Run home and tell John the good news. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [leisurely to HARRIET]. I little guessed when I came for a + pleasant chat about old times that it would develop into business + arrangements. I had no idea, Harriet, that you had any intention of + being painted. By Le Grange, too. Well, I came just in time to rescue + you. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. Run home and tell John. Hurry, hurry! + </p> + <p> + HETTY [to HARRIET]. You managed the order very neatly. She doesn't + suspect that you wanted it. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Now if I am not satisfied with my portrait I shall blame you, + Margaret, dear. I am relying upon your opinion of John's talent. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. She doesn't suspect what you came for. Run home + and tell John! + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. You always had a brilliant mind, Margaret. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET. Ah, it is you who flatter, now. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to MARGARET]. You don't have to stay so long. Hurry home! + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. Ah, one does not flatter when one tells the truth. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [smiles]. I must be going or you will have me completely under + your spell. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [looks at clock]. Yes, do go. I have to dress for dinner. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [to MARGARET]. Oh, don't hurry. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to HETTY]. I hate you! + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [to HARRIET]. No, really I must, but I hope we shall see each + other often at the studio. I find you so stimulating. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [to MAGGIE]. I hate you! + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [to MARGARET]. It is indeed gratifying to find a kindred spirit. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to HETTY]. I came for your gold. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [to HARRIET]. How delightful it is to know you again. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [to MAGGIE]. I am going to make you and your husband suffer. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. My kind regards to John. + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE [to HETTY]. He has forgotten all about you. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [rises]. He will be so happy to receive them. + </p> + <p> + HETTY [to MAGGIE]. I can hardly wait to talk to him again. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET. I shall wait, then, until you send me word? + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [offering her hand]. I'll speak to John about it as soon as I + can and tell you when to come. + </p> + <p> + [HARRIET takes MARGARET'S hand affectionately. HETTY and MAGGIE rush at + each other, throw back their veils, and fling their speeches fiercely at + each other.] + </p> + <p> + HETTY. I love him—I love him—— + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. He's starving—I'm starving—— + </p> + <p> + HETTY. I'm going to take him away from you—— + </p> + <p> + MAGGIE. I want your money—and your influence. + </p> + <p> + HETTY and MAGGIE. I'm going to rob you—rob you. + </p> + <p> + [There is a cymbal crash, the lights go out and come up again slowly, + leaving only MARGARET and HARRIET visible.] + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [quietly to HARRIET]. I've had such a delightful afternoon. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [offering her hand]. It has been a joy to see you. + </p> + <p> + MARGARET [sweetly to HARRIET]. Good-bye. + </p> + <p> + HARRIET [sweetly to MARGARET as she kisses her]. Good-bye, my dear. + </p> + <p> + Curtain. + </p> + <br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. HELENA'S HUSBAND + </h2> + <h3> + An Historical Comedy + </h3> + <p> + By Philip Moeller + </p> + <p> + Copyright, 1915, by Philip Moeller + </p> + <p> + "Helena's Husband" was produced by the Washington Square Players, under + the direction of Philip Moeller, at the Bandbox Theatre, New York City, + beginning October 4, 1915. + </p> + <p> + In the cast, in the order of their appearance, were the following: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HELENA, Queen of Sparta. Noel Haddon + TSUMU, her slave. Helen Westley + MENELAUS, the King. Frank Conroy + ANALYTIKOS, his librarian. Walter Frankl + PARIS, a shepherd. Harold Meltzer +</pre> + <p> + The scene was designed by Paul T. Frankl and the costumes by Robert + Locker. + </p> + <p> + "Helena's Husband" was subsequently revived by the Washington Square + Players at the Comedy Theatre, New York City, beginning June 5, 1916, with + Margaret Mower playing the part of Helen. + </p> + <p> + CHARACTERS + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HELENA, the Queen + TSUMU, a black woman, slave to Helena + MENELAUS, the King + ANALYTIKOS, the King's librarian + PARIS, a shepherd +</pre> + <div class="play"> + <p> + SCENE: Is that archeolological mystery, a Greek interior. A door on the + right leads to the KING'S library, one on the left to the apartments of + the QUEEN. Back right is the main entrance leading to the palace. Next + this, running the full length of the wall, is a window with a platform, + built out over the main court. Beyond is a view of hills bright with + lemon groves, and in the far distance shimmers the sea. On the wall near + the QUEEN'S room hangs an old shield rusty with disuse. A bust of Zeus + stands on a pedestal against the right wall. There are low coffers about + the room from which hang the ends of vivid colored robes. The scene is + bathed in intense sunlight. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU is massaging the QUEEN. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. There's no doubt about it. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. Analytikos says there is much doubt about all things. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Never mind what he says. I envy you your complexion. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [falling prostrate before HELENA]. Whom the Queen envies should + beware. + </p> + <p> + HELENA [annoyed]. Get up, Tsumu. You make me nervous tumbling about like + that. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [still on the floor]. Why does the great Queen envy Tsumu? + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Get up, you silly. [She kicks her.] I envy you because you can + run about and never worry about getting sunburnt. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [on her knees]. The radiant beauty of the Queen is unspoilable. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. That's just what's worrying me, Tsumu. When beauty is so perfect + the slightest jar may mean a jolt. [She goes over and looks at her + reflection in the shield.] I can't see myself as well as I would like + to. The King's shield is tarnished. Menelaus has been too long out of + battle. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [handing her a hand mirror]. The Gods will keep Sparta free from + strife. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. I'll have you beaten if you assume that prophetic tone with me. + There's one thing I can't stand, and that's a know-all. [Flinging the + hand mirror to the floor.] + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [in alarm]. Gods grant you haven't bent it. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. These little mirrors are useless. His shield is the only thing + in which I can see myself full-length. If he only went to war, he'd have + to have it cleaned. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [putting the mirror on a table near the QUEEN]. The King is a + lover of peace. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. The King is a lover of comfort. Have you noticed that he spends + more time than he used to in the library? + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. He is busy with questions of State. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. You know perfectly well that when anything's the matter with the + Government it's always straightened out at the other end of the palace. + Finish my shoulder. [She examines her arm.] I doubt if there is a finer + skin than this in Sparta. + </p> + <p> + [TSUMU begins to massage the QUEEN'S shoulder.] + </p> + <p> + HELENA [taking up a mirror]. That touch of deep carmine right here in + the centre of my lips was quite an idea. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [busily pounding the QUEEN]. An inspiration of the Gods! + </p> + <p> + HELENA. The Gods have nothing to do with it. I copied it from a low + woman I saw at the circus. I can't understand how these bad women have + such good ideas. [HELENA twists about.] + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. If your majesty doesn't sit still, I may pinch you. + </p> + <p> + HELENA [boxing her ears]. None of your tricks, you ebony fiend! + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [crouching]. Descendant of paradise, forgive me. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. If you bruise my perfect flesh, the King will kill you. My + beauty is his religion. He can sit for hours, as if at prayer, just + examining the arch of my foot. Tsumu, you may kiss my foot. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [prostrate]. May the Gods make me worthy of your kindness! + </p> + <p> + HELENA. That's enough. Tsumu, are you married? + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [getting up]. I've been so busy having babies I never had time to + get married. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. It's a great disillusionment. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [aghast]. What! + </p> + <p> + HELENA. I'm not complaining. Moo Moo is the best of husbands, but + sometimes being adored too much is trying. [She sighs deeply.] I think + I'll wear my heliotrope this afternoon. + </p> + <p> + [A trumpet sounds below in the courtyard. TSUMU goes to the window.] + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. They are changing the guards at the gates of the palace. It's + almost time for your bath. [She begins scraping the massage ointment + back into the box.] + </p> + <p> + HELENA. You're as careful with that ointment as Moo Moo is with me. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. Precious things need precious guarding. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. It's very short-sighted on Moo Moo's part to send everybody to + the galleys who dares lift a head when I pass by—and all those + nice-looking soldiers! Why—the only men I ever see besides Moo Moo + are Analytikos and a lot of useless eunuchs. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. Oh, those eunuchs! + </p> + <p> + HELENA [as she sits dreaming]. I wish, I wish—— [She stops + short.] + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. You have but to speak your desire to the King. + </p> + <p> + HELENA [shocked]. Tsumu! How can you think of such a thing? I'm not a + bad woman. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. He would die for you. + </p> + <p> + HELENA [relieved]. Ah! Do you think so, Tsumu? + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. All Sparta knows that His Majesty is a lover of peace, and yet he + would rush into battle to save you. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. I should love to have men fighting for me. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [in high alarm]. May Zeus turn a deaf ear to your voice. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Don't be impertinent, Tsumu. I've got to have some sort of + amusement. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. You've only to wait till next week, and you can see another of + the priestesses sacrificed to Diana. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. That doesn't interest me any longer. The girls are positively + beginning to like it. No! My mind is set on war. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [terrified]. I have five fathers of my children to lose. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. War, or—or—— + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [hopefully]. Have I been so long your slave that I no longer know + your wish? + </p> + <p> + HELENA [very simply]. Well, I should like to have a lover. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [springs up and rushes over in horror to draw the curtains across + the door to the library. All of a tremble]. Gods grant they didn't hear + you. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Don't be alarmed, Tsumu. Analytikos is over eighty. [She bursts + into a loud peal of laughter and MENELAUS rushes into the room.] + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [in high irritation]. I wish you wouldn't make so much noise in + here. A King might at least expect quiet in his own palace. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Tsumu, see if my bath is ready. [TSUMU exits.] You used not + speak like that to me, Moo Moo. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [in a temper]. How many times must I tell you that my name is + Menelaus and that it isn't "Moo Moo?" + </p> + <p> + HELENA [sweetly]. I'll never do it again, Moo Moo. [She giggles.] + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. Your laugh gets on my nerves. It's louder than it used to be. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. If you wish it, I'll never, never laugh again. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. You've promised that too often. + </p> + <p> + HELENA [sadly]. Things are not as they used to be. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. Are you going to start that again? + </p> + <p> + HELENA [with a tinge of melancholy]. I suppose you'd like me to be still + and sad. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [bitterly]. Is it too much to hope that you might be still and + happy? + </p> + <p> + HELENA [speaking very quickly and tragically]. Don't treat me cruelly, + Moo Moo. You don't understand me. No man ever really understands a + woman. There are terrible depths to my nature. I had a long talk with + Dr. Aesculapius only last week, and he told me I'm too introspective. + It's the curse of us emotional women. I'm really quite worried, but much + you care, much you care. [A note of tears comes into her voice.] I'm + sure you don't love me any more, Moo Moo. No! No! Don't answer me! If + you did you couldn't speak to me the way you do. I've never wronged you + in deed or in thought. No, never—never. I've given up my hopes and + aspirations, because I knew you wanted me around you. And now, NOW—— + [She can contain the tears no longer.] Because I have neglected my + beauty and because I am old and ugly, you regret that Ulysses or + Agamemnon didn't marry me when you all wanted me, and I know you curse + the day you ever saw me. [She is breathless.] + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [fuming]. Well! Have you done? + </p> + <p> + HELENA. No. I could say a great deal more, but I'm not a talkative + woman. + </p> + <p> + [ANALYTIKOS comes in from the library.] + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Your Majesty, are we to read no longer to-day? + </p> + <p> + HELENA. I have something to say to the King. [ANALYTIKOS goes toward the + library. MENELAUS anxiously stops him.] + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. No. Stay here. You are a wise man and will understand the + wisdom of the Queen. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS [bowing to HELENA]. Helena is wise as she is beautiful. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. She is attempting to prove to me in a thousand words that + she's a silent woman. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Women are seldom silent. [HELENA resents this.] Their beauty + is forever speaking for them. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. The years have, indeed, taught you wisdom. [TSUMU enters.] + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. The almond water awaits Your Majesty. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. I hope you haven't forgotten the chiropodist. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. He has been commanded but he's always late. He's so busy. + </p> + <p> + HELENA [in a purring tone to MENELAUS]. Moo Moo. + </p> + <p> + [MENELAUS, bored, turns away.] + </p> + <p> + HELENA [to TSUMU]. I think after all I'll wear my Sicily blue. + </p> + <p> + [She and TSUMU go into the QUEEN'S apartment.] + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Shall we go back to the library? + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. My mind is unhinged again—that woman with her endless + protestations. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. I am sorry the poets no longer divert you. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. A little poetry is always too much. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. To-morrow we will try the historians. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. No! Not the historians. I want the truth for a change. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. The truth! + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. Where in books can I find escape from the grim reality of + being hitched for life to such a wife? Bah! + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Philosophy teaches—— + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. Why have the Gods made woman necessary to man, and made them + fools? + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. For seventy years I have been resolving the problem of woman + and even at my age—— + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. Give it up, old man. The answer is—don't. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Such endless variety, and yet—— + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [with the conviction of finality]. There are only two sorts of + women! Those who are failures and those who realize it. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Is not Penelope, the model wife of your cousin Ulysses, an + exception? + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. Duty is the refuge of the unbeautiful. She is as commonplace + as she is ugly. [And then with deep bitterness.] Why didn't he marry + Helen when we all wanted her? He was too wise for that. He is the only + man I've ever known who seems able to direct destiny. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. You should not blame the Gods for a lack of will. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [shouting]. Will! Heaven knows I do not lack the will to rid + myself of this painted puppet, but where is the instrument ready to my + hand? + </p> + <p> + [At this moment a SHEPHERD of Apollonian beauty leaps across the rail of + the balcony and bounds into the room. MENELAUS and ANALYTIKOS start back + in amazement.] + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Who are you? + </p> + <p> + PARIS. An adventurer. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Then you have reached the end of your story. In a moment you + will die. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. I have no faith in prophets. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. The soldiers of the King will give you faith. Don't you know + that it means death for any man to enter the apartments of the Queen? + </p> + <p> + PARIS [looking from one to the other]. Oh! So you're a couple of + eunuchs. + </p> + <p> + [Though nearly eighty this is too much for ANALYTIKOS to bear. He rushes + to call the guards, but MENELAUS stops him.] + </p> + <p> + PARIS [to ANALYTIKOS]. Thanks. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. You thank me for telling you your doom? + </p> + <p> + PARIS. No—for convincing me that I'm where I want to be. It's + taken me a long while, but I knew I'd get here. [And then very + intimately to MENELAUS.] Where's the Queen? + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. Where do you come from? + </p> + <p> + PARIS. From the hills. I had come down into the market-place to sell my + sheep. I had my hood filled with apples. They were golden-red like a + thousand sunsets. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [annoyed]. You might skip those bucolic details. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. At the fair I met three ancient gypsies. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. What have they to do with you coming here? + </p> + <p> + PARIS. You don't seem very patient. Can't I tell my story in my own way? + They asked me for the apple I was eating and I asked them what they'd + give for it. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. I'm not interested in market quotations. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. You take everything so literally. I'm sure you're easily bored. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [with meaning]. I am. + </p> + <p> + PARIS [going on cheerfully]. The first was to give me all the money she + could beg, and the second was to tell me all the truth she could learn + by listening, and the third promised me a pretty girl. So I chose—— + [He hesitates.] + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. You cannot escape by spinning out your tale. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. Death is the end of one story and the beginning of another. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. Well! Well! Come to the point. Which did you choose? + </p> + <p> + PARIS [smiling]. Well, you see I'd been in the hills for a long while, + so I picked the girl. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. It would have been better for you if you had chosen wisdom. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. I knew you'd say that. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. I have spoken truly. In a moment you will die. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. It is because the old have forgotten life that they preach + wisdom. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. So you chose the girl? Well, go on. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. This made the other cronies angry, and when I tossed her the + apple one of the others yelped at me: "You may as well seek the Queen of + Sparta: she is the fairest of women." And as I turned away I heard their + laughter, but the words had set my heart aflame and though it costs me + my life, I'll follow the adventure. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS [scandalized]. Haven't we heard enough of this? + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [deeply]. No! I want to hear how the story ends. It may amuse + the King. [He makes a sign to ANALYTIKOS.] + </p> + <p> + PARIS. And on the ship at night I looked long at the stars and dreamed + of possessing Helen. [ANALYTIKOS makes an involuntary movement toward + the balcony but MENELAUS stops him.] Desire has been my guiding Mercury; + the Fates are with me, and here I am! + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. The wrath of the King will show you no mercy. + </p> + <p> + PARIS [nonchalantly]. I'm not afraid of the King. He's fat, and—a + fool. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Shall I call the guards? [MENELAUS stops him.] + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [very significantly]. So you would give your life for a glimpse + of the Queen? + </p> + <p> + PARIS [swiftly]. Yes! My immortal soul, and if the fables tell the + truth, the sight will be worth the forfeit. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [suddenly jumping up]. It shall be as you wish! + </p> + <p> + PARIS [buoyantly]. Venus has smiled on me. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. In there beyond the library you will find a room with a bath. + Wait there till I call you. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. Is this some trick to catch me? + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. A Spartan cannot lie. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. What will happen to you if the King hears of this? + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. I will answer for the king. Go. + </p> + <p> + [PARIS exits into the library.] + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS [rubbing his hands]. Shall I order the boiling oil? + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [surprised]. Oil? + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Now that he is being cleaned for the sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. His torture will be greater than being boiled alive. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS [eagerly]. You'll have him hurled from the walls of the + palace to a forest of waiting spears below? + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. None is so blind as he who sees too much. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Your Majesty is subtle in his cruelty. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. Haven't the years taught you the cheapness of revenge? + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS [mystified]. You do not intend to alter destiny. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. Never before has destiny been so clear to me. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Then the boy must die. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [with slow determination]. No! He has been sent by the Gods to + save me! + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Your majesty! [He is trembling with apprehension.] + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [with unbudgeable conviction]. Helena must elope with him! + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS [falling into a seat]. Ye Gods! + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [quickly]. I couldn't divorce the Queen. That would set a bad + example. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Yes, very. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. I couldn't desert her. That would be beneath my honor. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS [deeply]. Was there no other way? + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [pompously]. The King can do no wrong, and besides I hate the + smell of blood. Are you a prophet as well as a scholar? Will she go? + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. To-night I will read the stars. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [meaningfully]. By to-night I'll not need you to tell me. + [ANALYTIKOS sits deep in thought.] Well? + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Ethics cite no precedent. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. Do you mean to say I'm not justified? + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS [cogitating]. Who can establish the punctilious ratio between + necessity and desire? + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [beginning to fume]. This is no time for language. Just put + yourself in my place. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Being you, how can I judge as I? + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [losing control]. May you choke on your dialectics! Zeus + himself could have stood it no longer. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Have you given her soul a chance to grow? + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. Her soul, indeed! It's shut in her rouge pot. [He has been + strutting about. Suddenly he sits down crushing a roll of papyrus. He + takes it up and in utter disgust reads.] "The perfect hip, its + development and permanence." Bah! [He flings it to the floor.] I've done + what I had to do, and Gods grant the bait may be sweet enough to catch + the Queen. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. If you had diverted yourself with a war or two you might + have forgotten your troubles at home. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [frightened]. I detest dissension of any kind—my dream + was perpetual peace in comfortable domesticity with a womanly woman to + warm my sandals. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Is not the Queen——? + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. No! No! The whole world is but her mirror. And I'm expected to + face that woman every morning at breakfast for the rest of my life, and + by Venus that's more than even a King can bear! + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Even a King cannot alter destiny. I warn you, whom the Gods + have joined together—— + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [in an outburst]. Is for man to break asunder! + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS [deeply shocked]. You talk like an atheist. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. I never allow religion to interfere with life. Go call the + victim and see that he be left alone with the Queen. [MENELAUS exits and + ANALYTIKOS goes over to the door of the library and summons PARIS, who + enters clad in a gorgeous robe.] + </p> + <p> + PARIS. I found this in there. It looks rather well, doesn't it? Ah! So + you're alone. I suppose that stupid friend of yours has gone to tell the + King. When do I see the Queen? + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. At once. [He goes to the door of the QUEEN'S apartment and + claps his hand. TSUMU enters and at the sight of her PARIS recoils the + full length of the room.] + </p> + <p> + PARIS. I thought the Queen was a blonde! + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Tell Her Majesty a stranger awaits her here. [TSUMU exits, + her eyes wide on PARIS.] You should thank the Gods for this moment. + </p> + <p> + PARIS [his eyes on the door]. You do it for me. I can never remember all + their names. + </p> + <p> + [HELENA enters clad in her Sicily blue, crowned with a garland of golden + flowers. She and PARIS stand riveted, looking at each other. Their + attitude might be described as fatalistic. ANALYTIKOS watches them for a + moment and then with hands and head lifted to heaven he goes into the + library.] + </p> + <p> + PARIS [quivering with emotion]. I have the most strange sensation of + having seen you before. Something I can't explain—— + </p> + <p> + HELENA [quite practically]. Please don't bother about all sorts of fine + distinctions. Under the influence of Analytikos and my husband, life has + become a mess of indecision. I'm a simple, direct woman and I expect you + to say just what you think. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. Do you? Very well, then—— [He comes a step nearer to + her.] Fate is impelling me toward you. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Yes. That's much better. So you're a fatalist. It's very Greek. + I don't see what our dramatists would do without it. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. In my country there are no dramatists. We are too busy with + reality. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Your people must be uncivilized barbarians. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. My people are a genuine people. There is but one thing we + worship. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Don't tell me it's money. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. It's—— + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Analytikos says if there weren't any money, there wouldn't be + any of those ridiculous socialists. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. It isn't money. It's sincerity. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. I, too, believe in sincerity. It's the loveliest thing in the + world. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. And the most dangerous. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. The truth is never dangerous. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. Except when told. + </p> + <p> + HELENA [making room on the couch for him to sit next to her]. You + mustn't say wicked things to me. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. Can your theories survive a test? + </p> + <p> + HELENA [beautifully]. Truth is eternal and survives all tests. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. No. Perhaps, after all, your soul is not ready for the supremest + heights. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Do you mean to say I'm not religious? Religion teaches the + meaning of love. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. Has it taught you to love your husband? + </p> + <p> + HELENA [starting up and immediately sitting down again]. How dare you + speak to me like that? + </p> + <p> + PARIS. You see. I was right. [He goes toward the balcony.] + </p> + <p> + HELENA [stopping him]. Whatever made you think so? + </p> + <p> + PARIS. I've heard people talk of the King. You could never love a man + like that. + </p> + <p> + HELENA [beautifully]. A woman's first duty is to love her husband. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. There is a higher right than duty. + </p> + <p> + HELENA [with conviction]. Right is right. + </p> + <p> + PARIS [with admiration]. The world has libelled you. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Me! The Queen? + </p> + <p> + PARIS. You are as wise as you are beautiful. + </p> + <p> + HELENA [smiling coyly]. Why, you hardly know me. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. I know you! I, better than all men. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. You? + </p> + <p> + PARIS [rapturously]. Human law has given you to Menelaus, but divine law + makes you mine. + </p> + <p> + HELENA [in amazement]. What! + </p> + <p> + PARIS. I alone appreciate your beauty. I alone can reach your soul. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Ah! + </p> + <p> + PARIS. You hate your husband! + </p> + <p> + HELENA [drawing back]. Why do you look at me like that? + </p> + <p> + PARIS. To see if there's one woman in the world who dares tell the + truth. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. My husband doesn't understand me. + </p> + <p> + PARIS [with conviction]. I knew you detested him. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. He never listens to my aspirations. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. Egoist. + </p> + <p> + HELENA [assuming an irresistible pose]. I'm tired of being only lovely. + He doesn't realize the meaning of spiritual intercourse, of soul + communion. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. Fool! + </p> + <p> + HELENA. You dare call Moo Moo a fool? + </p> + <p> + PARIS. Has he not been too blind to see that your soul outshines your + beauty? [Then, very dramatically.] You're stifling! + </p> + <p> + HELENA [clearing her throat]. I—I———— + </p> + <p> + PARIS. He has made you sit upon your wings. [HELENA, jumping up, shifts + her position.] You are groping in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Don't be silly. It's very light in here. + </p> + <p> + PARIS [undisturbed]. You are stumbling, and I have come to lead you. [He + steps toward her.] + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Stop right there! [PARIS stops.] No man but the King can come + within ten feet of me. It's a court tradition. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. Necessity knows no tradition. [He falls on his knees before her.] + I shall come close to you, though the flame of your beauty consume me. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. You'd better be careful what you say to me. Remember I'm the + Queen. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. No man weighs his words who has but a moment to live. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. You said that exactly like an actor. [He leans very close to + her.] What are you doing now? + </p> + <p> + PARIS. I am looking into you. You are the clear glass in which I read + the secret of the universe. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. The secret of the universe. Ah! Perhaps you could understand me. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. First you must understand yourself. + </p> + <p> + HELENA [instinctively taking up a mirror]. How? + </p> + <p> + PARIS. You must break with all this prose. [With an unconscious gesture + he sweeps a tray of toilet articles from the table. HELENA emits a + little shriek.] + </p> + <p> + HELENA. The ointment! + </p> + <p> + PARIS [rushing to the window and pointing to the distance]. And climb to + infinite poesie! + </p> + <p> + HELENA [catching his enthusiasm, says very blandly]. There is nothing in + the world like poetry. + </p> + <p> + PARIS [lyrically]. Have you ever heard the poignant breathing of the + stars? + </p> + <p> + HELENA. No. I don't believe in astrology. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. Have you ever smelt the powdery mists of the sun? + </p> + <p> + HELENA. I should sneeze myself to death. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. Have you ever listened to the sapphire soul of the sea? + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Has the sea a soul? But please don't stop talking. You do it so + beautifully. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. Deeds are sweeter than words. Shall we go hand in hand to meet + eternity? + </p> + <p> + HELENA [not comprehending him]. That's very pretty. Say it again. + </p> + <p> + PARIS [passionately]. There's but a moment of life left me. I shall + stifle it in ecstasy. Helena, Helena, I adore you! + </p> + <p> + HELENA [jumping up in high surprise]. You're not making love to me, you + naughty boy? + </p> + <p> + PARIS. Helena! + </p> + <p> + HELENA. You've spoken to me so little, and already you dare to do that. + </p> + <p> + PARIS [impetuously]. I am a lover of life. I skip the inessentials. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Remember who I am. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. I have not forgotten. Daughter of Heaven. [Suddenly he leaps to + his feet.] Listen! + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Shhh! That's the King and Analytikos in the library. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. No! No! Don't you hear the flutter of wings? + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Wings? + </p> + <p> + PARIS [ecstatically]. Venus, mother of Love! + </p> + <p> + HELENA [alarmed]. What is it? + </p> + <p> + PARIS. She has sent her messenger. I hear the patter of little feet. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Those little feet are the soldiers below in the courtyard. [A + trumpet sounds.] + </p> + <p> + PARIS [the truth of the situation breaking through his emotion]. In a + moment I shall be killed. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Killed? + </p> + <p> + PARIS. Save me and save yourself! + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Myself? + </p> + <p> + PARIS. I shall rescue you and lead you on to life. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. No one has ever spoken to me like that before. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. This is the first time your ears have heard the truth. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Was it of you I've been dreaming? + </p> + <p> + PARIS. Your dream was but your unrealized desire. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Menelaus has never made me feel like this. [And then with a + sudden shriek.] Oh! I'm a wicked woman! + </p> + <p> + PARIS. No! No! + </p> + <p> + HELENA. For years I've been living with a man I didn't love. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. Yes! Yes! + </p> + <p> + HELENA. I'm lost! + </p> + <p> + PARIS [at a loss]. No! Yes! Yes! No! + </p> + <p> + HELENA. It was a profanation of the most holy. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. The holiest awaits you, Helena! Our love will lighten the + Plutonian realms. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Menelaus never spoke to me like that. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. 'Tis but the first whisper of my adoration. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. I can't face him every morning at breakfast for the rest of my + life. That's even more than a Queen can bear. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. I am waiting to release you. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. I've stood it for seven years. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. I've been coming to you since the beginning of time. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. There is something urging me to go with you, something I do not + understand. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. Quick! There is but a moment left us. [He takes her rapturously + in his arms. There is a passionate embrace in the midst of which TSUMU + enters.] + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. The chiropodist has come. + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Bring me my outer garment and my purse. + </p> + <p> + [TSUMU exits, her eyes wide on PARIS.] + </p> + <p> + PARIS. Helena! Helena! + </p> + <p> + [HELENA looks about her and takes up the papyrus that MENELAUS has flung + to the floor.] + </p> + <p> + HELENA. A last word to the King. [She looks at the papyrus.] No, this + won't do; I shall have to take this with me. + </p> + <p> + PARIS. What is it? + </p> + <p> + HELENA. Maskanda's discourse on the hip. + </p> + <p> + [A trumpet sounds below in the courtyard.] + </p> + <p> + PARIS [excitedly]. Leave it—or your hip may cost me my head. We + haven't a minute to spare. Hurry! Hurry! + </p> + <p> + [HELENA takes up an eyebrow pencil and writes on the back of the + papyrus. She looks for a place to put it and seeing the shield she + smears it with some of the ointment and sticks the papyrus to it.] + </p> + <p> + PARIS [watching her in ecstasy]. You are the fairest of all fair women + and your name will blaze as a symbol throughout eternity. [TSUMU enters + with the purse and the QUEEN'S outer robe.] + </p> + <p> + HELENA [tossing the purse to PARIS]. Here, we may need this. + </p> + <p> + PARIS [throwing it back to TSUMU]. This for your silence, daughter of + darkness. A prince has no heed of purses. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [looking at him]. A prince! + </p> + <p> + HELENA [gloriously]. My prince of poetry. My deliverer! + </p> + <p> + PARIS [divinely]. My queen of love! + </p> + <p> + [They go out, TSUMU looking after them in speechless amazement. Suddenly + she sees the papyrus on the shield, runs over and reads it and then + rushes to the door of the library.] + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [calling]. Analytikos. [She hides the purse in her bosom. + ANALYTIKOS enters, scroll in hand.] + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Has the Queen summoned me? + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [mysteriously]. A terrible thing has happened. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. What's the matter? + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. Where's the King? + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. In the library. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. I have news more precious than the gold of Midas. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS [giving her a purse]. Well! What is it? + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [speaking very dramatically and watching the effect of her words]. + The Queen has deserted Menelaus. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS [receiving the shock philosophically]. Swift are the ways of + Nature. The Gods have smiled upon him. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. The Gods have forsaken the King to smile upon a prince. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. What? + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. He was a prince. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS [apprehensively]. Why do you say that? + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [clutching her bosom]. I have a good reason to know. [There is a + sound of voices below in the courtyard. MENELAUS rushes in expectantly. + TSUMU falls prostrate before him.] Oh, King, in thy bottomless agony + blame not a blameless negress. The Queen has fled! + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [in his delight forgetting himself and flinging her a purse]. + Is it true? + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. Woe! Woe is me! + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [storming]. Out of my sight, you eyeless Argus! + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS [to TSUMU]. Quick, send a messenger. Find out who he was. + [TSUMU sticks the third purse in her bosom and runs out.] + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [with radiant happiness, kneeling before the bust of Zeus]. Ye + Gods, I thank ye. Peace and a happy life at last. [The shouts in the + courtyard grow louder.] + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. The news has spread through the palace. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [in trepidation, springing up]. No one would dare stop the + progress of the Queen. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [rushes in and prostrates herself before the KING]. Woe is me! + They have gone by the road to the harbor. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [anxiously]. Yes! Yes! + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. By the King's orders no man has dared gaze upon Her Majesty. They + all fell prostrate before her. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. Good! Good! [Attempting to cover his delight.] Go! Go! You + garrulous dog. [TSUMU gets up and points to shield. ANALYTIKOS and the + KING look toward it. ANALYTIKOS tears off the papyrus and brings it to + MENELAUS. TSUMU, watching them, exits.] + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [reading]. "I am not a bad woman. I did what I had to do." How + Greek to blame fate for what one wants to do. [TSUMU again comes + tumbling in.] + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [again prostrate before the KING]. A rumor flies through the city. + He—he—— + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS [anxiously]. Well? Well? + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. He—he—— + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [furiously to ANALYTIKOS]. Rid me of this croaking raven. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. Evil has fallen on Sparta. He—— + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Yes—yes—— + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [in a rage]. Out of my sight, perfidious Nubian. [Sounds of + confusion in the courtyard. Suddenly she springs to her feet and yells + at the top of her voice.] + </p> + <p> + TSUMU. He was Paris, Prince of Troy! + </p> + <p> + [They all start back. ANALYTIKOS stumbles into a seat. MENELAUS turns + pale. TSUMU leers like a black Nemesis.] + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS [very ominously]. Who can read the secret of the Fates? + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [frightened]. What do you mean? + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. He is the son of Priam, King of Troy. + </p> + <p> + TSUMU [adding fuel]. And of Hecuba, Queen of the Trojans. [She rushes + out to spread the news.] + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. That makes the matter international. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [quickly]. But we have treaties with Troy. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Circumstances alter treaties. They will mean nothing. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. Nothing? + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. No more than a scrap of papyrus. Sparta will fight to regain + her Queen. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. But I don't want her back. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Can you tell that to Sparta? Remember, the King can do no + wrong. Last night I dreamed of war. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. No! No! Don't say that. After the scandal I can't be expected + to fight to get her back. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Sparta will see with the eyes of chivalry. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [fuming]. But I don't believe in war. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS [still obdurate]. Have you forgotten the oath pledged of old, + with Ulysses and Agamemnon? They have sworn, if ever the time came, to + fight and defend the Queen. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [bitterly]. I didn't think of the triple alliance. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Can Sparta ask less of her King? + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS. Let's hear the other side. We can perhaps arbitrate. Peace at + any price. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Some bargains are too cheap. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [hopelessly]. But I am a pacifist. + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. You are Menelaus of Sparta, and Sparta's a nation of + soldiers. + </p> + <p> + MENELAUS [desperately]. I am too proud to fight! + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS. Here, put on your shield. [A great clamor comes up from the + courtyard. ANALYTIKOS steps out on the balcony and is greeted with + shouts of "The King! The King!" Addressing the crowd.] People of Sparta, + this calamity has been forced upon us. + </p> + <p> + [MENELAUS winces.] We are a peaceful people. But thanks to our + unparalleled efficiency, the military system of Sparta is the most + powerful in all Greece and we can mobilize in half an hour. + </p> + <p> + [Loud acclaims from the people. MENELAUS, the papyrus still in hand, + crawls over and attempts to stop ANALYTIKOS.] + </p> + <p> + ANALYTIKOS [not noticing him]. In the midst of connubial and communal + peace the thunderbolt has fallen on the King.[MENELAUS tugs at + ANALYTIKOS' robe.] Broken in spirit as he is, he is already pawing the + ground like a battle steed. Never will we lay down our arms! We and + Jupiter! [Cheers.] Never until the Queen is restored to Menelaus. Never, + even if it takes ten years. + </p> + <p> + [MENELAUS squirms. A loud cheer.] + </p> + <p> + HELENA'S HUSBAND Even now the King is buckling on his shield. [More + cheers. ANALYTIKOS steps farther forward and then with bursting + eloquence.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + One hate we have and one alone! [Yells from below.] + Hate by water and hate by land, + Hate of the head and hate of the hand, + Hate of Paris and hate of Troy + That has broken the Queen for a moment's toy. + [The yells grow fiercer.] + Zeus' thunder will shatter the Trojan throne. + We have one hate and one alone! +</pre> + <p> + [MENELAUS sits on the floor dejectedly looking at the papyrus. A thunder + of voices from the people.] + </p> + <p> + We have one hate and one alone. Troy! Troy! + </p> + <p> + [Helmets and swords are thrown into the air. The cheers grow tumultuous, + trumpets are blown, and the curtain falls.] + </p> + <br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Washington Square Plays, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WASHINGTON SQUARE PLAYS *** + +***** This file should be named 3068-h.htm or 3068-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/6/3068/ + +Produced by Dianne Bean, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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