This is a modern-English version of The Melting-Pot, originally written by Zangwill, Israel.
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and grammar—to ensure clarity for contemporary readers, while preserving the original spirit and nuance. If
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WORKS OF ISRAEL ZANGWILL
THE MELTING-POT
THE AMERICAN JEWISH BOOK COMPANY
NEW YORK
1921
THE AMERICAN JEWISH BOOK COMPANY
NEW YORK
1921
THE MELTING-POT
Copyright, 1909, 1914,
By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
THE MELTING-POT
Copyright, 1909, 1914,
By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Printed by
The Lord Baltimore Press
Baltimore, Md.
Printed by
The Lord Baltimore Press
Baltimore, MD.
TO THEODORE ROOSEVELT
TO THEODORE ROOSEVELT
IN RESPECTFUL RECOGNITION OF HIS STRENUOUS STRUGGLE AGAINST THE FORCES THAT THREATEN TO SHIPWRECK THE GREAT REPUBLIC WHICH CARRIES MANKIND AND ITS FORTUNES, THIS PLAY IS, BY HIS KIND PERMISSION, CORDIALLY DEDICATED
IN RESPECTFUL RECOGNITION OF HIS HARD STRUGGLE AGAINST THE FORCES THAT THREATEN TO DESTROY THE GREAT REPUBLIC THAT SUPPORTS MANKIND AND ITS FORTUNES, THIS PLAY IS, WITH HIS KIND PERMISSION, CORDIALLY DEDICATED
The rights of performing or publishing this play in any country or language are strictly reserved by the author.
The author strictly reserves the rights to perform or publish this play in any country or language.
THE CAST
[As first produced at the Columbia Theatre, Washington, on the fifth of October 1908]
[As first performed at the Columbia Theatre, Washington, on October 5, 1908]
| David Quixano | Walker Whiteside |
| Mendel Quixano | Henry Bergman |
| Baron Revendal | John Blair |
| Quincy Davenport, Jr. | Grant Stewart |
| Herr Pappelmeister | Henry Vogel |
| Vera Revendal | Chrystal Herne |
| Baroness Revendal | Leonora Von Ottinger |
| Frau Quixano | Louise Muldener |
| Kathleen O'Reilly | Mollie Revel |
| Settlement Servant | Annie Harris |
| Produced by Hugh Ford | |
[As first produced by the Play Actors at the Court Theatre, London on the twenty-fifth of January 1914]
[As first performed by the Play Actors at the Court Theatre, London on the twenty-fifth of January 1914]
| David Quixano | Harold Chapin |
| Mendel Quixano | Hugh Tabberer |
| Baron Revendal | H. Lawrence Leyton |
| Quincy Davenport, Jr. | P. Perceval Clark |
| Herr Pappelmeister | Clifton Alderson |
| Vera Revendal | Phyllis Relph |
| Baroness Revendal | Gillian Scaife |
| Frau Quixano | Inez Bensusan |
| Kathleen O'Reilly | E. Nolan O'Connor |
| Settlement Servant | Ruth Parrott |
| Produced by Norman Page | |
Act I
The scene is laid in the living-room of the small home of the Quixanos in the Richmond or non-Jewish borough of New York, about five o'clock of a February afternoon. At centre back is a double street-door giving on a columned veranda in the Colonial style. Nailed on the right-hand door-post gleams a Mezuzah, a tiny metal case, containing a Biblical passage. On the right of the door is a small hat-stand holding Mendel's overcoat, umbrella, etc. There are two windows, one on either side of the door, and three exits, one down-stage on the left leading to the stairs and family bedrooms, and two on the right, the upper leading to Kathleen's bedroom and the lower to the kitchen. Over the street door is pinned the Stars-and-Stripes. On the left wall, in the upper corner of which is a music-stand, are bookshelves of large mouldering Hebrew books, and over them is hung a Mizrach, or Hebrew picture, to show it is the East Wall. Other pictures round the room include Wagner, Columbus, Lincoln, and "Jews at the Wailing place." Down-stage, about a yard from the left wall, stands David's roll-desk, open and displaying a medley of music, a quill pen, etc. On the wall behind the desk hangs a book-rack with brightly bound English books. A grand piano stands at left centre back, holding a pile of music and one huge Hebrew tome. There is a table in the middle of the room covered with a red cloth and a litter of objects, music, and newspapers. [Pg 2]The fireplace, in which a fire is burning, occupies the centre of the right wall, and by it stands an armchair on which lies another heavy mouldy Hebrew tome. The mantel holds a clock, two silver candlesticks, etc. A chiffonier stands against the back wall on the right. There are a few cheap chairs. The whole effect is a curious blend of shabbiness, Americanism, Jewishness, and music, all four being combined in the figure of Mendel Quixano, who, in a black skull-cap, a seedy velvet jacket, and red carpet-slippers, is discovered standing at the open street-door. He is an elderly music master with a fine Jewish face, pathetically furrowed by misfortunes, and a short grizzled beard.
The scene is set in the living room of the small home of the Quixanos in the Richmond or non-Jewish neighborhood of New York, around five o'clock on a February afternoon. At the center back is a double street door leading to a columned porch in Colonial style. Attached to the right door frame shines a Mezuzah, a tiny metal case containing a Biblical passage. To the right of the door is a small hat rack holding Mendel's experiments overcoat, umbrella, and other items. There are two windows, one on either side of the door, and three exits: one downstage on the left leading to the stairs and family bedrooms, and two on the right, the upper leading to Kathleen's bedroom and the lower to the kitchen. Above the street door is pinned the Stars and Stripes. On the left wall, in the upper corner of which is a music stand, are bookshelves filled with large, deteriorating Hebrew books, and above them hangs a Mizrach, or Hebrew picture, indicating it is the East Wall. Other pictures around the room include Wagner, Columbus, Lincoln, and "Jews at the Wailing Wall." Downstage, about a yard from the left wall, stands David's roll-top desk, open and displaying a mix of music, a quill pen, and more. On the wall behind the desk hangs a book rack with brightly bound English books. A grand piano is positioned at left center back, covered with a pile of music and one large Hebrew tome. There is a table in the middle of the room draped with a red cloth and a clutter of objects, music, and newspapers. [Pg 2]The fireplace, which is burning, is located in the center of the right wall, next to an armchair on which lies another heavy, deteriorating Hebrew tome. The mantel holds a clock, two silver candlesticks, and more. A chiffonier is placed against the back wall on the right. There are a few inexpensive chairs. The overall effect is a bizarre mix of shabbiness, American culture, Jewish identity, and music, all embodied in the figure of Mendel Quixano, who, wearing a black skullcap, a worn-out velvet jacket, and red carpet slippers, is found standing at the open street door. He is an elderly music teacher with a kind Jewish face, sadly lined by hardships, and a short, grizzled beard.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Good-bye, Johnny!... And don't forget to practise your scales.
Goodbye, Johnny!... And remember to practice your scales.
[Shutting door, shivers.]
Shutting the door, shivers.
Ugh! It'll snow again, I guess.
Ugh! I guess it's going to snow again.
[He yawns, heaves a great sigh of relief, walks toward the table, and perceives a music-roll.]
He yawns, lets out a big sigh of relief, walks over to the table, and sees a music roll.
The chump! He's forgotten his music!
The fool! He's forgotten his music!
[He picks it up and runs toward the window on the left, muttering furiously]
[He grabs it and races toward the window on the left, grumbling angrily]
Brainless, earless, thumb-fingered Gentile!
Mindless, earless, thumbed Gentile!
[Throwing open the window]
Opening the window
Here, Johnny! You can't practise your scales if you leave 'em here!
Here, Johnny! You can't practice your scales if you leave them here!
[He throws out the music-roll and shivers again at the cold as he shuts the window.]
He tosses the music roll aside and shivers again from the cold as he closes the window.
Ugh! And I must go out to that miserable dancing class to scrape the rent together.
Ugh! And I have to go to that terrible dance class to make enough money for the rent.
[He goes to the fire and warms his hands.]
He goes to the fire and warms his hands.
[He drops dejectedly into the armchair. Finding himself sitting uncomfortably on the big book, he half rises and pushes it to the side of the seat. After an instant an irate Irish voice is heard from behind the kitchen door.]
[He sinks sadly into the armchair. Realizing he's awkwardly sitting on a big book, he half gets up and moves it to the side of the seat. After a moment, an annoyed Irish voice is heard through the kitchen door.]
KATHLEEN [Without]
KATHLEEN [Unavailable]
Divil take the butther! I wouldn't put up with ye, not for a hundred dollars a week.
Damn the butter! I wouldn't put up with you, not for a hundred bucks a week.
MENDEL [Raising himself to listen, heaves great sigh]
MENDEL [Leaning in to listen, he lets out a deep sigh]
Ach! Mother and Kathleen again!
Ugh! Mom and Kathleen again!
KATHLEEN [Still louder]
KATHLEEN [Even louder]
Pots and pans and plates and knives! Sure 'tis enough to make a saint chrazy.
Pots and pans and plates and knives! It's enough to drive anyone crazy.
FRAU QUIXANO [Equally loudly from kitchen]
FRAU QUIXANO [Just as loudly from the kitchen]
Wos schreist du? Gott in Himmel, dieses Amerika!
What are you yelling about? God in heaven, this America!
KATHLEEN [Opening door of kitchen toward the end of Frau Quixano's speech, but turning back, with her hand visible on the door]
KATHLEEN [Opening the kitchen door towards the end of Ms. Quixano's speech, but turning back, with her hand visible on the door]
What's that ye're afther jabberin' about America? If ye don't like God's own counthry, sure ye can go back to your own Jerusalem, so ye can.
What's that you're talking about America? If you don't like God's own country, you can always go back to your own Jerusalem, you can.
MENDEL
MENDEL
One's very servants are anti-Semites.
Even one's servants are anti-Semites.
KATHLEEN [Bangs her door as she enters excitedly, carrying a folded white table-cloth. She is a young[Pg 4] and pretty Irish maid-of-all-work]
KATHLEEN [Slams her door as she comes in excitedly, holding a folded white tablecloth. She is a young[Pg 4] and attractive Irish maid-of-all-work]
Bad luck to me, if iver I take sarvice again with haythen Jews.
Bad luck to me if I ever take service again with heathen Jews.
[She perceives Mendel huddled up in the armchair, gives a little scream, and drops the cloth.]
She sees Mendel curled up in the armchair, lets out a small scream, and drops the cloth.
Och, I thought ye was out!
Oh, I thought you were out!
MENDEL [Rising]
MENDEL [Emerging]
And so you dared to be rude to my mother.
And so you had the audacity to be rude to my mom.
KATHLEEN [Angrily, as she picks up the cloth]
KATHLEEN [Furiously, as she grabs the cloth]
She said I put mate on a butther-plate.
She said I put mate on a butter plate.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Well, you know that's against her religion.
Well, you know that's against her beliefs.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
But I didn't do nothing of the soort. I ounly put butther on a mate-plate.
But I didn't do anything like that. I only put butter on a plate.
MENDEL
MENDEL
That's just as bad. What the Bible forbids——
That's just as bad. What the Bible forbids——
KATHLEEN [Lays the cloth on a chair and vigorously clears off the litter of things on the table.]
KATHLEEN [Puts the cloth on a chair and energetically clears off the mess on the table.]
Sure, the Pope himself couldn't remimber it all. Why don't ye have a sinsible religion?
Sure, the Pope himself couldn't remember it all. Why don't you have a sensible religion?
MENDEL
MENDEL
You are impertinent. Attend to your work.
You are disrespectful. Focus on your work.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
And isn't it laying the Sabbath cloth I am?
And isn't it setting the Sabbath table I am?
[She bangs down articles from the table into their right places.]
She slams the articles down from the table into their proper places.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Don't answer me back.
Don't reply to me.
[He begins to play softly.]
He starts playing softly.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Faith, I must answer somebody back—and sorra a word of English she understands. I might as well talk to a tree.
Faith, I have to respond to somebody—and not a word of English she understands. I might as well be talking to a tree.
MENDEL
MENDEL
You are not paid to talk, but to work.
You’re not paid to chat, but to get work done.
[Playing on softly.]
Playing softly.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
And who can work wid an ould woman nagglin' and grizzlin' and faultin' me?
And who can work with an old woman nagging and complaining and criticizing me?
[She removes the red table-cloth.]
She takes off the red tablecloth.
Mate-plates, butther-plates, kosher, trepha, sure I've smashed up folks' crockery and they makin' less fuss ouver it.
Mate plates, butter plates, kosher, treif, sure, I've broken people's dishes and they're making less of a fuss over it.
MENDEL [Stops playing.]
MENDEL [Pauses game.]
Breaking crockery is one thing, and breaking a religion another. Didn't you tell me when I engaged you that you had lived in other Jewish families?
Breaking dishes is one thing, but breaking a faith is another. Didn’t you tell me when I hired you that you had lived with other Jewish families?
KATHLEEN [Angrily]
KATHLEEN [Fuming]
And is it a liar ye'd make me out now? I've lived[Pg 6] wid clothiers and pawnbrokers and Vaudeville actors, but I niver shtruck a house where mate and butther couldn't be as paceable on the same plate as eggs and bacon—the most was that some wouldn't ate the bacon onless 'twas killed kosher.
And are you trying to call me a liar now? I've lived[Pg 6] with clothiers and pawnbrokers and Vaudeville actors, but I never encountered a household where meat and butter couldn't coexist on the same plate as eggs and bacon—the most was that some wouldn’t eat the bacon unless it was killed kosher.
MENDEL [Tickled]
MENDEL [Amused]
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
KATHLEEN [Furious, pauses with the white table-cloth half on.]
KATHLEEN [Furious, pauses with the white tablecloth partially on.]
And who's ye laughin' at? I give ye a week's notice. I won't be the joke of Jews, no, begorra, that I won't.
And who are you laughing at? I've given you a week's notice. I won't be the punchline for anyone, no way, I won't.
[She pulls the cloth on viciously.]
She yanks the cloth violently.
MENDEL [Sobered, rising from the piano]
MENDEL [Collecting himself, getting up from the piano]
Don't talk nonsense, Kathleen. Nobody is making a joke of you. Have a little patience—you'll soon learn our ways.
Don't say silly things, Kathleen. No one is teasing you. Be a little patient—you'll learn our ways soon enough.
KATHLEEN [More mildly]
KATHLEEN [More gently]
Whose ways, yours or the ould lady's or Mr. David's? To-night being yer Sabbath, you'll be blowing out yer bedroom candle, though ye won't light it; Mr. David'll light his and blow it out too; and the misthress won't even touch the candleshtick. There's three religions in this house, not wan.
Whose ways, yours or the old lady's or Mr. David's? Tonight being your Sabbath, you'll blow out your bedroom candle, even though you won’t light it; Mr. David will light his and blow it out too; and the mistress won’t even touch the candlestick. There are three religions in this house, not one.
MENDEL [Coughs uneasily.]
MENDEL [Coughs awkwardly.]
Hem! Well, you learn the mistress's ways—that will be enough.[Pg 7]
Hem! Well, you get to know how the mistress operates—that should be sufficient.[Pg 7]
KATHLEEN [Going to mantelpiece]
KATHLEEN [Going to fireplace]
But what way can I understand her jabberin' and jibberin'?—I'm not a monkey!
But how am I supposed to make sense of her rambling and chatter?—I'm not a monkey!
[She takes up a silver candlestick.]
She picks up a silver candlestick.
Why doesn't she talk English like a Christian?
Why doesn't she speak English like a proper person?
MENDEL [Irritated]
MENDEL [Frustrated]
If you are going on like that, perhaps you had better not remain here.
If you're going to keep acting like that, maybe you shouldn't stay here.
KATHLEEN [Blazing up, forgetting to take the second candlestick]
KATHLEEN [Flaring up, forgetting to grab the second candlestick]
And who's axin' ye to remain here? Faith, I'll quit off this blissid minit!
And who’s asking you to stay here? Honestly, I’ll leave this blessed minute!
MENDEL [Taken aback]
MENDEL [Surprised]
No, you can't do that.
No, you can't do that.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
And why can't I? Ye can keep yer dirthy wages.
And why can't I? You can keep your dirty wages.
[She dumps down the candlestick violently on the table, and exit hysterically into her bedroom.]
She slams the candlestick down on the table and runs hysterically into her bedroom.
MENDEL [Sighing heavily]
MENDEL [Sighing deeply]
She might have put on the other candlestick.
She could have used the other candlestick.
[He goes to mantel and takes it. A rat-tat-tat at street-door.]
He walks over to the mantel and picks it up. There's a knock at the front door.
Who can that be?
Who could that be?
[Running to Kathleen's door, holding candlestick forgetfully low.]
[i>Running to Kathleen's door, holding the candlestick a bit too low.]
KATHLEEN [Angrily from within]
KATHLEEN [Angrily from inside]
I'm not here!
I'm not here!
MENDEL
MENDEL
So long as you're in this house, you must do your work.
As long as you're in this house, you need to get your work done.
[Kathleen's head emerges sulkily.]
Kathleen's head pops up sulkily.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
I tould ye I was lavin' at wanst. Let you open the door yerself.
I told you I was leaving right away. You can open the door yourself.
MENDEL
MENDEL
I'm not dressed to receive visitors—it may be a new pupil.
I'm not dressed to have guests—it might be a new student.
[He goes toward staircase, automatically carrying off the candlestick which Kathleen has not caught sight of. Exit on the left.]
[He heads towards the staircase, automatically taking the candlestick that Kathleen hasn't noticed. Exits left.]
KATHLEEN [Moving toward the street-door]
KATHLEEN [Heading to the street door]
The divil fly away wid me if ivir from this 'our I set foot again among haythen furriners——
The devil fly away with me if I ever set foot again among heathen foreigners.
[She throws open the door angrily and then the outer door. Vera Revendal, a beautiful girl in furs and muff, with a touch of the exotic in her appearance, steps into the little vestibule.]
She angrily throws open the door and then the outer door. Vera Revendal, a stunning girl in furs and with a muff, has an exotic touch to her appearance as she steps into the small vestibule.
VERA
VERA
Is Mr. Quixano at home?
Is Mr. Quixano home?
KATHLEEN [Sulkily]
KATHLEEN [Pouting]
Which Mr. Quixano?[Pg 9]
Which Mr. Quixano?
VERA [Surprised]
VERA [Shocked]
Are there two Mr. Quixanos?
Are there two Mr. Quixanos?
KATHLEEN [Tartly]
KATHLEEN [Sarcastically]
Didn't I say there was?
Didn't I say there was?
VERA
VERA
Then I want the one who plays.
Then I want the one who plays.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
There isn't a one who plays.
No one is playing.
VERA
VERA
Oh, surely!
Oh, definitely!
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Ye're wrong entirely. They both plays.
You're completely wrong. They both play.
VERA [Smiling]
VERA [Smiling]
Oh, dear! And I suppose they both play the violin.
Oh, no! And I guess they both play the violin.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Ye're wrong again. One plays the piano—ounly the young ginthleman plays the fiddle—Mr. David!
You're wrong again. One plays the piano—only the young gentleman plays the fiddle—Mr. David!
VERA [Eagerly]
VERA [Excitedly]
Ah, Mr. David—that's the one I want to see.
Ah, Mr. David—that's the person I want to see.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
He's out.
He's gone.
VERA [Stopping its closing]
VERA [Preventing its closure]
Don't shut the door!
Don't close the door!
KATHLEEN [Snappily]
KATHLEEN [Quickly]
More chanst of seeing him out there than in here!
More chance of seeing him out there than in here!
VERA
VERA
But I want to leave a message.
But I want to send a message.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Then why don't ye come inside? It's freezin' me to the bone.
Then why don't you come inside? It's freezing me to the bone.
[She sneezes.]
She just sneezed.
Atchoo!
Atchoo!
VERA
VERA
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
[She comes in and closes the door]
[i]She comes in and closes the door[/i]
Will you please say Miss Revendal called from the Settlement, and we are anxiously awaiting his answer to the letter asking him to play for us on——
Will you please let them know that Miss Revendal called from the Settlement, and we are eagerly waiting for his response to the letter asking him to perform for us on——
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
What way will I be tellin' him all that? I'm not here.
What way am I supposed to tell him all that? I'm not here.
VERA
VERA
Eh?
Huh?
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
I'm lavin'—just as soon as I've me thrunk packed.[Pg 11]
I'm leaving—just as soon as I've packed my trunk.[Pg 11]
VERA
VERA
Then I must write the message—can I write at this desk?
Then I have to write the message—can I write at this desk?
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
If the ould woman don't come in and shpy you.
If the old woman doesn't come in and surprise you.
VERA
VERA
What old woman?
Which old woman?
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Ould Mr. Quixano's mother—she wears a black wig, she's that houly.
Ould Mr. Quixano's mother—she wears a black wig, she's that old.
VERA [Bewildered]
VERA [Confused]
What?... But why should she mind my writing?
What?... But why would she care about my writing?
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Look at the clock.
Check the time.
[Vera looks at the clock, more puzzled than ever.]
Vera looks at the clock, feeling more confused than ever.
If ye're not quick, it'll be Shabbos.
If you're not quick, it'll be Shabbos.
VERA
VERA
Be what?
Be what now?
KATHLEEN [Holds up hands of horror]
KATHLEEN [Raises hands in shock]
Ye don't know what Shabbos is! A Jewess not know her own Sunday!
You don't know what Shabbos is! A Jewish woman doesn't know her own Sunday!
VERA [Outraged]
VERA [Furious]
KATHLEEN [Flustered]
KATHLEEN [Stressed]
Axin' your pardon, miss, but ye looked a bit furrin and I——
Axin' your pardon, miss, but you looked a bit foreign and I——
VERA [Frozen]
VERA [Frozen]
I am a Russian.
I'm Russian.
[Slowly and dazedly]
Dazed and slow
Do I understand that Mr. Quixano is a Jew?
Do I understand that Mr. Quixano is Jewish?
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Two Jews, miss. Both of 'em.
Two Jews, ma'am. Both of them.
VERA
VERA
Oh, but it is impossible.
Oh, but that's impossible.
[Dazedly to herself]
Dazedly to herself
He had such charming manners.
He had really charming manners.
[Aloud again]
[Read it out loud]
You seem to think everybody Jewish. Are you sure Mr. Quixano is not Spanish?—the name sounds Spanish.
You seem to think everyone is Jewish. Are you sure Mr. Quixano isn't Spanish? The name sounds Spanish.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Shpanish!
Spanish!
[She picks up the old Hebrew book on the armchair.]
[i]She picks up the old Hebrew book from the armchair.[/i]
Look at the ould lady's book. Is that Shpanish?
Look at the old lady's book. Is that Spanish?
[She points to the Mizrach.]
[She points to the East.]
And that houly picture the ould lady says her pater-noster to! Is that Shpanish? And that houly table-cloth with the houly silver candle——
And that holy picture the old lady says her prayers to! Is that Spanish? And that holy tablecloth with the holy silver candle——
[Cry of sudden astonishment]
[Shocked exclamation]
Why, I've ounly put——
Why, I’ve only put——
[Pg 13][She looks toward mantel and utters a great cry of alarm as she drops the Hebrew book on the floor.]
[Pg 13][She looks at the mantel and lets out a loud cry of alarm as she drops the Hebrew book on the floor.]
Why, where's the other candleshtick! Mother in hivin, they'll say I shtole the candleshtick!
Why, where's the other candlestick! My goodness, they'll think I stole the candlestick!
[Perceiving that Vera is dazedly moving toward door]
[Seeing that Vera is confusedly making her way to the door]
Beggin' your pardon, miss——
Excuse me, miss——
[She is about to move a chair toward the desk.]
She is about to push a chair up to the desk.
VERA
VERA
Thank you, I've changed my mind.
Thank you, I've had a change of heart.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
That's more than I'll do.
That's more than I’ll do.
VERA [Hand on door]
VERA [Hand on the door]
Don't say I called at all.
Don't mention that I called at all.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Plaze yerself. What name did ye say?
Plaze yourself. What name did you say?
[Mendel enters hastily from his bedroom, completely transmogrified, minus the skull-cap, with a Prince Albert coat, and boots instead of slippers, so that his appearance is gentlemanly. Kathleen begins to search quietly and unostentatiously in the table-drawers, the chiffonier, etc., etc., for the candlestick.
Mendel rushes in from his bedroom, looking totally transformed, without his skull-cap, wearing a Prince Albert coat, and boots instead of slippers, giving him a polished appearance. Kathleen starts to quietly and discreetly search through the table drawers, the chiffonier, and so on, for the candlestick.
MENDEL
MENDEL
I am sorry if I have kept you waiting——
I’m sorry if I made you wait——
[He rubs his hands importantly.]
He rubs his hands eagerly.
You see I have so many pupils already. Won't you sit down?
You see, I already have so many students. Why don’t you take a seat?
VERA [Flushing, embarrassed, releasing her hold of the door handle]
VERA [Feeling flushed and embarrassed, letting go of the door handle]
Thank you—I—I—I didn't come about pianoforte lessons.
Thank you—I—I—I didn’t come for piano lessons.
MENDEL [Sighing in disappointment]
MENDEL [Sighing in disappointment]
Ach!
Ugh!
VERA
VERA
In fact I—er—it wasn't you I wanted at all—I was just going.
In fact, I—um—it wasn't you I wanted at all—I was just leaving.
MENDEL [Politely]
MENDEL [Respectfully]
Perhaps I can direct you to the house you are looking for.
Maybe I can help you find the house you're looking for.
VERA
VERA
Thank you, I won't trouble you.
Thank you, I won’t bother you.
[She turns toward the door again.]
She turns back toward the door.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Allow me!
Let me!
[He opens the door for her.]
[i]He opens the door for her.[/i]
VERA [Hesitating, struck by his manners, struggling with her anti-Jewish prejudice]
VERA [Hesitating, taken aback by his manners, grappling with her anti-Jewish bias]
It—it—was your son I wanted.
It was your son I wanted.
MENDEL [His face lighting up]
MENDEL [His face lit up]
You mean my nephew, David. Yes, he gives violin lessons.
You mean my nephew, David. Yes, he gives violin lessons.
VERA
VERA
Oh, is he your nephew?
Oh, is he your nephew?
MENDEL
MENDEL
I am sorry he is out—he, too, has so many pupils, though at the moment he is only at the Crippled Children's Home—playing to them.
I’m sorry he’s not here—he has a lot of students, but right now he’s at the Crippled Children's Home—playing for them.
VERA
VERA
How lovely of him!
How sweet of him!
[Touched and deciding to conquer her prejudice]
[i>Touched and deciding to overcome her biases]
But that's just what I came about—I mean we'd like him to play again at our Settlement. Please ask him why he hasn't answered Miss Andrews's letter.
But that's exactly why I came here—I mean we'd like him to play again at our Settlement. Please ask him why he hasn't replied to Miss Andrews's letter.
MENDEL [Astonished]
MENDEL [Wow]
He hasn't answered your letter?
He hasn't replied to your letter?
VERA
VERA
Oh, I'm not Miss Andrews; I'm only her assistant.
Oh, I'm not Miss Andrews; I'm just her assistant.
MENDEL
MENDEL
I see—Kathleen, whatever are you doing under the table?
I see—Kathleen, what are you doing under the table?
[Kathleen, in her hunting around for the candlestick, is now stooping and lifting up the table-cloth.]
[Kathleen, while searching for the candlestick, is now bending down and lifting the tablecloth.]
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Sure the fiend's after witching away the candleshtick.[Pg 16]
Sure, the villain's trying to steal the candlestick.[Pg 16]
MENDEL [Embarrassed]
MENDEL [Awkward]
The candlestick? Oh—I—I think you'll find it in my bedroom.
The candlestick? Oh—I think you'll find it in my bedroom.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Wisha, now!
Wish it now!
[She goes into his bedroom.]
She enters his bedroom.
MENDEL [Turning apologetically to Vera]
MENDEL [Turning apologetically to Vera]
I beg your pardon, Miss Andrews, I mean Miss—er——
I’m sorry, Miss Andrews, I mean Miss—uh—
VERA
VERA
Revendal.
Revendal.
MENDEL [Slightly more interested]
MENDEL [A bit more interested]
Revendal? Then you must be the Miss Revendal David told me about!
Revendal? So you must be the Miss Revendal that David mentioned!
VERA [Blushing]
VERA [Blushing]
Why, he has only seen me once—the time he played at our Roof-Garden Concert.
Why, he’s only seen me once—the time he performed at our Roof-Garden Concert.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Yes, but he was so impressed by the way you handled those new immigrants—the Spirit of the Settlement, he called you.
Yes, but he was really impressed by how you dealt with those new immigrants—the Spirit of the Settlement, he called you.
VERA [Modestly]
VERA [Humbly]
Ah, no—Miss Andrews is that. And you will tell him to answer her letter at once, won't you, because there's only a week now to our Concert.
Ah, no—Miss Andrews is that. And you'll tell him to reply to her letter right away, won't you? Because there's only a week left until our Concert.
[A gust of wind shakes the windows. She smiles.]
[i]A gust of wind rattles the windows. She smiles.[/i]
Naturally it will not be on the Roof Garden.[Pg 17]
Naturally, it will not be on the Roof Garden.[Pg 17]
MENDEL [Half to himself]
MENDEL [Half whispering]
Fancy David not saying a word about it to me! Are you sure the letter was mailed?
Can you believe David didn't say anything about it to me! Are you sure the letter was sent?
VERA
VERA
I mailed it myself—a week ago. And even in New York——
I sent it myself—last week. And even in New York—
[She smiles. Re-enter Kathleen with the recovered candlestick.]
She smiles. Kathleen comes back in with the candlestick she found.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Bedad, ye're as great a shleep-walker as Mr. David!
Wow, you're just as much of a sleepwalker as Mr. David!
[She places the candlestick on the table and moves toward her bedroom.]
She puts the candlestick on the table and walks toward her bedroom.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Kathleen!
Kathleen!
KATHLEEN [Pursuing her walk without turning]
KATHLEEN [Continuing her walk without looking back]
I'm not here!
I’m not here!
MENDEL
MENDEL
Did you take in a letter for Mr. David about a week ago?
Did you receive a letter for Mr. David about a week ago?
[Smiling at Miss Revendal]
[Smiling at Miss Revendal]
He doesn't get many, you see.
He doesn't get many, you see.
KATHLEEN [Turning]
KATHLEEN [Spinning]
A letter? Sure, I took in ounly a postcard from Miss Johnson, an' that ounly sayin'——
A letter? Sure, I only got a postcard from Miss Johnson, and that only said——
VERA
VERA
And you don't remember a letter—a large letter—last Saturday—with the seal of our Settlement?[Pg 18]
And you don’t remember a letter—a big letter—last Saturday—with the seal of our Settlement?[Pg 18]
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Last Saturday wid a seal, is it? Sure, how could I forgit it?
Last Saturday, with a seal, right? Of course, how could I forget it?
MENDEL
MENDEL
Then you did take it in?
Then you actually took it in?
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Ye're wrong entirely. 'Twas the misthress took it in.
You're completely wrong. It was the mistress who brought it in.
MENDEL [To Vera]
MENDEL [To Vera]
I am sorry the boy has been so rude.
I’m sorry the boy has been so disrespectful.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
But the misthress didn't give it him at wanst—she hid it away bekaz it was Shabbos.
But the mistress didn't give it to him right away—she hid it because it was Shabbos.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Oh, dear—and she has forgotten to give it to him. Excuse me.
Oh no—and she forgot to give it to him. Sorry about that.
[He makes a hurried exit to the kitchen.]
He rushes out to the kitchen.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
And excuse me—I've me thrunk to pack.
And excuse me—I have my trunk to pack.
[She goes toward her bedroom, pauses at the door.]
[i]She walks toward her bedroom and stops at the door.[/i]
And ye'll witness I don't pack the candleshtick.
And you'll see I don't carry the candlestick.
[Emphatic exit.]
Bold exit.
VERA [Still dazed]
VERA [Still confused]
A Jew! That wonderful boy a Jew!... But then[Pg 19] so was David the shepherd youth with his harp and his psalms, the sweet singer in Israel.
A Jew! That amazing boy is a Jew!... But then[Pg 19] so was David, the shepherd boy with his harp and his psalms, the sweet singer of Israel.
[She surveys the room and its contents with interest. The windows rattle once or twice in the rising wind. The light gets gradually less. She picks up the huge Hebrew tome on the piano and puts it down with a slight smile as if overwhelmed by the weight of alien antiquity. Then she goes over to the desk and picks up the printed music.]
She looks around the room and its contents with curiosity. The windows shake a few times in the increasing wind. The light gradually dims. She picks up the large Hebrew book on the piano and puts it down with a small smile, as if feeling the weight of its unfamiliar history. Then she walks over to the desk and grabs the sheet music.
Mendelssohn's Concerto, Tartini's Sonata in G Minor, Bach's Chaconne...
Mendelssohn's Concerto, Tartini's Sonata in G Minor, Bach's Chaconne...
[She looks up at the book-rack.]
She looks up at the bookshelf.
"History of the American Commonwealth," "Cyclopædia of History," "History of the Jews"—he seems very fond of history. Ah, there's Shelley and Tennyson.
"History of the American Commonwealth," "Cyclopædia of History," "History of the Jews"—he seems really into history. Ah, there's Shelley and Tennyson.
[With surprise]
[In shock]
Nietzsche next to the Bible? No Russian books apparently——
Nietzsche next to the Bible? No Russian books, it seems——
[Re-enter Mendel triumphantly with a large sealed letter.]
Re-enter Mendel triumphantly with a large sealed letter.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Here it is! As it came on Saturday, my mother was afraid David would open it!
Here it is! Since it arrived on Saturday, my mom was worried that David would open it!
VERA [Smiling]
VERA [Grinning]
But what can you do with a letter except open it? Any more than with an oyster?
But what can you do with a letter besides opening it? Just like with an oyster?
MENDEL [Smiling as he puts the letter on David's[Pg 20] desk]
MENDEL [Smiling as he places the letter on David's desk]
To a pious Jew letters and oysters are alike forbidden—at least letters may not be opened on our day of rest.
To a devout Jew, both letters and oysters are forbidden—though letters shouldn't be opened on our day of rest.
VERA
VERA
I'm sure I couldn't rest till I'd opened mine.
I'm sure I couldn't relax until I'd opened mine.
[Enter from the kitchen Frau Quixano, defending herself with excited gesticulation. She is an old lady with a black wig, but her appearance is dignified, venerable even, in no way comic. She speaks Yiddish exclusively, that being largely the language of the Russian Pale.]
[Enter from the kitchen Ms. Quixano, defending herself with animated gestures. She is an elderly woman with a black wig, but her demeanor is dignified, even venerable, and not at all comical. She speaks exclusively in Yiddish, which is primarily the language of the Russian Pale.]
FRAU QUIXANO
LADY QUIXANO
Obber ich hob gesogt zu Kathleen——
I'm telling you, Kathleen
MENDEL [Turning and going to her]
MENDEL [Turning and going to her]
Yes, yes, mother, that's all right now.
Yes, yes, mom, that's all good now.
FRAU QUIXANO [In horror, perceiving her Hebrew book on the floor, where Kathleen has dropped it]
FRAU QUIXANO [In shock, noticing her Hebrew book on the floor, where Kathleen has dropped it]
Mein Buch!
My book!
[She picks it up and kisses it piously.]
[i]She picks it up and kisses it reverently.[/i]
MENDEL [Presses her into her fireside chair]
MENDEL [Pushing her into her fireside chair]
Ruhig, ruhig, Mutter!
Calm down, Mom!
[To Vera]
[To Vera]
She understands barely a word of English—she won't disturb us.
She hardly understands any English—she won't bother us.
VERA
VERA
Oh, but I must be going—I was so long finding the house, and look! it has begun to snow!
Oh, I really need to get going—I took so long to find the house, and look! It's started to snow!
[Pg 21][They both turn their heads and look at the falling snow.]
[Pg 21][They both turn to watch the snow as it falls.]
MENDEL
MENDEL
All the more reason to wait for David—it may leave off. He can't be long now. Do sit down.
All the more reason to wait for David—it might stop. He shouldn't be much longer. Please, have a seat.
[He offers a chair.]
He offers a seat.
FRAU QUIXANO [Looking round suspiciously]
FRAU QUIXANO [Looking around suspiciously]
Wos will die Shikseh?
Will Wos die, Shikseh?
VERA
VERA
What does your mother say?
What does your mom say?
MENDEL [Half-smiling]
MENDEL [Half-smiling]
Oh, only asking what your heathen ladyship desires.
Oh, just asking what you, my non-religious lady, want.
VERA
VERA
Tell her I hope she is well.
Tell her I hope she's doing well.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Das Fräulein hofft dass es geht gut——
The young lady hopes that everything goes well——
FRAU QUIXANO [Shrugging her shoulders in despairing astonishment]
FRAU QUIXANO [Shrugging her shoulders in a mix of despair and disbelief]
Gut? Un' wie soll es gut gehen—in Amerika!
Good? And how is it supposed to be good—in America!
[She takes out her spectacles, and begins slowly polishing and adjusting them.]
She takes out her glasses and starts slowly cleaning and adjusting them.
VERA [Smiling]
VERA [Smiling]
I understood that last word.
I got that last word.
MENDEL
MENDEL
She asks how can anything possibly go well in America![Pg 22]
She asks how anything can possibly go well in America![Pg 22]
VERA
VERA
Ah, she doesn't like America.
Ah, she isn't a fan of America.
MENDEL [Half-smiling]
MENDEL [Half-smiling]
Her favourite exclamation is "A Klog zu Columbessen!"
Her favorite exclamation is "A Klog zu Columbessen!"
VERA
VERA
What does that mean?
What does that mean?
MENDEL
MENDEL
Cursed be Columbus!
Cursed be Columbus!
VERA [Laughingly]
VERA [Laughs]
Poor Columbus! I suppose she's just come over.
Poor Columbus! I guess she just arrived.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Oh, no, it must be ten years since I sent for her.
Oh no, it must have been ten years since I called for her.
VERA
VERA
Really! But your nephew was born here?
Really! But your nephew was born here?
MENDEL
MENDEL
No, he's Russian too. But please sit down, you had better get his answer at once.
No, he's Russian too. But please take a seat; you should get his answer right away.
[Vera sits.]
Vera takes a seat.
VERA
VERA
I suppose you taught him music.
I guess you taught him music.
MENDEL
MENDEL
I? I can't play the violin. He is self-taught. In[Pg 23] the Russian Pale he was a wonder-child. Poor David! He always looked forward to coming to America; he imagined I was a famous musician over here. He found me conductor in a cheap theatre—a converted beer-hall.
I? I can’t play the violin. He taught himself. In[Pg 23] the Russian Pale, he was a child prodigy. Poor David! He always looked forward to coming to America; he thought I was a famous musician here. He found me conducting in a cheap theater—a converted beer hall.
VERA
VERA
Was he very disappointed?
Was he really disappointed?
MENDEL
MENDEL
Disappointed? He was enchanted! He is crazy about America.
Disappointed? He was thrilled! He is obsessed with America.
VERA [Smiling]
VERA [Smiling]
Ah, he doesn't curse Columbus.
Ah, he doesn't criticize Columbus.
MENDEL
MENDEL
My mother came with her life behind her: David with his life before him. Poor boy!
My mother came with her past behind her: David with his future ahead of him. Poor kid!
VERA
VERA
Why do you say poor boy?
Why do you call him a poor kid?
MENDEL
MENDEL
What is there before him here but a terrible struggle for life? If he doesn't curse Columbus, he'll curse fate. Music-lessons and dance-halls, beer-halls and weddings—every hope and ambition will be ground out of him, and he will die obscure and unknown.
What else is there for him here but a brutal fight for survival? If he doesn't blame Columbus, he'll blame fate. Music lessons and dance clubs, bars and weddings—every hope and ambition will be crushed out of him, and he will die unknown and unrecognized.
[His head sinks on his breast, Frau Quixano is heard faintly sobbing over her book. The sobbing [Pg 24]continues throughout the scene.]
[His head drops onto his chest, Mrs. Quixano can be heard softly crying over her book. The crying [Pg 24] goes on throughout the scene.]
VERA [Half rising]
VERA [Partially standing]
You have made your mother cry.
You have caused your mom to cry.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Oh, no—she understood nothing. She always cries on the eve of the Sabbath.
Oh, no—she didn't understand anything. She always cries the night before the Sabbath.
VERA [Mystified, sinking back into her chair]
VERA [Confused, sinking back into her chair]
Always cries? Why?
Always crying? Why?
MENDEL [Embarrassed]
MENDEL [Feeling awkward]
Oh, well, a Christian wouldn't understand——
Oh, well, a Christian wouldn’t get it—
VERA
VERA
Yes I could—do tell me!
Yes, I could—please share!
MENDEL
MENDEL
She knows that in this great grinding America, David and I must go out to earn our bread on Sabbath as on week-days. She never says a word to us, but her heart is full of tears.
She knows that in this vast, grinding America, David and I have to go out to earn our living on the Sabbath just like we do on weekdays. She never says a word to us, but her heart is heavy with sorrow.
VERA
VERA
Poor old woman. It was wrong of us to ask your nephew to play at the Settlement for nothing.
Poor old woman. It was unfair of us to ask your nephew to perform at the Settlement for free.
MENDEL [Rising fiercely]
MENDEL [Intensely rising]
If you offer him a fee, he shall not play. Did you think I was begging of you?
If you offer him a payment, he won’t play. Did you think I was asking you for something?
VERA
VERA
I beg your pardon——
Excuse me—
[She smiles.]
She smiles.
There, I am begging of you. Sit down, please.[Pg 25]
There, I am asking you. Please, have a seat.[Pg 25]
MENDEL [Walking away to piano]
MENDEL [Walking away to piano music]
I ought not to have burdened you with our troubles—you are too young.
I shouldn't have put our troubles on you—you are too young.
VERA [Pathetically]
VERA [Sadly]
I young? If you only knew how old I am!
I’m young? If you only knew how old I am!
MENDEL
MENDEL
You?
You?
VERA
VERA
I left my youth in Russia—eternities ago.
I left my youth in Russia—ages ago.
MENDEL
MENDEL
You know our Russia!
You know our Russia!
[He goes over to her and sits down.]
He walks over to her and sits down.
VERA
VERA
Can't you see I'm a Russian, too?
Can't you see I'm Russian, too?
[With a faint tremulous smile]
With a faint shaky smile
I might even have been a Siberian had I stayed. But I escaped from my gaolers.
I might have even ended up in Siberia if I had stayed. But I managed to escape from my captors.
MENDEL
MENDEL
You were a Revolutionist!
You were a revolutionary!
VERA
VERA
Who can live in Russia and not be? So you see trouble and I are not such strangers.
Who can live in Russia and not be affected? So you see, trouble and I are not that unfamiliar with each other.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Who would have thought it to look at you? Siberia, gaolers, revolutions!
Who would have guessed it just by looking at you? Siberia, jailers, revolutions!
[Rising]
[Growing]
VERA
VERA
Yes, even in free America.
Yes, even in America.
[Frau Quixano's sobbing grows slightly louder.]
[Ms. Quixano's sobbing grows slightly louder.]
MENDEL
MENDEL
That Settlement work must be full of tragedies.
That settlement work must be full of heartbreaks.
VERA
VERA
Sometimes one sees nothing but the tragedy of things.
Sometimes all you see is the tragedy of things.
[Looking toward the window]
[Facing the window]
The snow is getting thicker. How pitilessly it falls—like fate.
The snow is getting heavier. How relentlessly it falls—like destiny.
MENDEL [Following her gaze]
MENDEL [Observing her gaze]
Yes, icy and inexorable.
Yes, cold and relentless.
[The faint sobbing of Frau Quixano over her book, which has been heard throughout the scene as a sort of musical accompaniment, has combined to work it up to a mood of intense sadness, intensified by the growing dusk, so that as the two now gaze at the falling snow, the atmosphere seems overbrooded with melancholy. There is a moment or two without dialogue, given over to the sobbing of Frau Quixano, the roar of the wind shaking the windows, the quick falling of the snow. Suddenly a happy voice singing "My Country 'tis of Thee" is heard from without.]
[The quiet sobs of Ms. Quixano over her book, which have provided a kind of musical backdrop throughout the scene, have come together to create a mood of deep sadness, heightened by the encroaching darkness. As the two now look at the snowfall, the atmosphere feels heavy with melancholy. There is a brief moment of silence, filled with Ms. Quixano's sobbing, the wind howling against the windows, and the steady fall of snow. Suddenly, a cheerful voice singing "My Country 'tis of Thee" can be heard from outside.]
FRAU QUIXANO [Pricking up her ears, joyously]
FRAU QUIXANO [Perking up her ears, excitedly]
Do ist Dovidel!
Do it, Dovidel!
MENDEL
MENDEL
That's David!
That's David!
[Pg 27][He springs up.]
He jumps up.
VERA [Murmurs in relief]
VERA [Sighs in relief]
Ah!
Ah!
[The whole atmosphere is changed to one of joyous expectation, David is seen and heard passing the left window, still singing the national hymn, but it breaks off abruptly as he throws open the door and appears on the threshold, a buoyant snow-covered figure in a cloak and a broad-brimmed hat, carrying a violin case. He is a sunny, handsome youth of the finest Russo-Jewish type. He speaks with a slight German accent.]
The entire atmosphere shifts to one of joyful anticipation. David can be seen and heard passing by the left window, still singing the national anthem, but it suddenly stops as he flings the door open and steps onto the threshold, a cheerful figure covered in snow, wearing a cloak and a wide-brimmed hat, holding a violin case. He is a bright, attractive young man of the best Russo-Jewish heritage. He speaks with a slight German accent.
DAVID
DAVID
Isn't it a beautiful world, uncle?
Isn't this world amazing, Uncle?
[He closes the inner door.]
He shuts the inner door.
Snow, the divine white snow——
Snow, the beautiful white snow——
[Perceiving the visitor with amaze]
[Seeing the visitor in awe]
Miss Revendal here!
Miss Revendal is here!
[He removes his hat and looks at her with boyish reverence and wonder.]
He takes off his hat and gazes at her with youthful admiration and astonishment.
VERA [Smiling]
VERA [Smiling]
Don't look so surprised—I haven't fallen from heaven like the snow. Take off your wet things.
Don't look so shocked—I didn't drop down from the sky like the snow. Take off your wet clothes.
DAVID
DAVID
Oh, it's nothing; it's dry snow.
Oh, it's nothing; it's just dry snow.
[He lays down his violin case and brushes off the snow from his cloak, which Mendel takes from him and hangs on the rack, all without interrupting the dialogue.]
[i]He sets down his violin case and shakes the snow off his cloak, which Mendel takes from him and hangs on the rack, all without breaking the conversation.[/i]
VERA
VERA
I am glad you didn't—I wouldn't have had those poor little cripples cheated out of a moment of your music.
I'm glad you didn't—I wouldn't want those poor little kids missing out on a moment of your music.
DAVID
DAVID
Uncle has told you? Ah, it was bully! You should have seen the cripples waltzing with their crutches!
Has Uncle told you? It was amazing! You should have seen the disabled people dancing with their crutches!
[He has moved toward the old woman, and while he holds one hand to the blaze now pats her cheek with the other in greeting, to which she responds with a loving smile ere she settles contentedly to slumber over her book.]
[He has approached the old woman, and while he holds one hand to the fire, he gently pats her cheek with the other in greeting, to which she responds with a warm smile before she settles down contentedly to sleep over her book.]
Es war grossartig, Granny. Even the paralysed danced.
It was amazing, Granny. Even the paralyzed danced.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Don't exaggerate, David.
Don't overdo it, David.
DAVID
DAVID
Exaggerate, uncle! Why, if they hadn't the use of their legs, their arms danced on the counterpane; if their arms couldn't dance, their hands danced from the wrist; and if their hands couldn't dance, they danced with their fingers; and if their fingers couldn't dance, their heads danced; and if their heads were paralysed, why, their eyes danced—God never curses so utterly but you've something left to dance with!
Exaggerate, uncle! If they couldn't use their legs, their arms danced on the bedcover; if their arms couldn’t dance, their hands danced from the wrists; and if their hands couldn’t dance, they danced with their fingers; and if their fingers couldn’t dance, their heads danced; and if their heads were paralyzed, well, their eyes danced—God never curses so completely that you don’t have something left to dance with!
[He moves toward his desk.]
He heads to his desk.
VERA [Infected with his gaiety]
VERA [Infected by his joy]
DAVID
DAVID
So they did—they shook their legs like mad!
So they did—they shook their legs like crazy!
VERA
VERA
Oh, why wasn't I there?
Oh, why wasn't I there?
[His eyes meet hers at the thought of her presence.]
[i]His eyes connect with hers at the thought of her being there.[/i]
DAVID
DAVID
Dear little cripples, I felt as if I could play them all straight again with the love and joy jumping out of this old fiddle.
Dear little ones, I felt like I could make them all feel whole again with the love and joy pouring out of this old fiddle.
[He lays his hand caressingly on the violin.]
He gently rests his hand on the violin.
MENDEL [Gloomily]
MENDEL [Sad]
But in reality you left them as crooked as ever.
But in reality, you left them just as crooked as before.
DAVID
DAVID
No, I didn't.
No, I didn't.
[He caresses the back of his uncle's head in affectionate rebuke.]
[i]He lovingly strokes the back of his uncle's head in a teasing way.[/i]
I couldn't play their bones straight, but I played their brains straight. And hunch-brains are worse than hunch-backs....
I couldn't play their bones correctly, but I played their minds correctly. And hunch-brains are worse than hunch-backs....
[Suddenly perceiving his letter on the desk]
[i]Suddenly noticing his letter on the desk[/i]
A letter for me!
A letter for me!
[He takes it with boyish eagerness, then hesitates to open it.]
He grabs it with youthful excitement but then pauses before opening it.
VERA [Smiling]
VERA [Smiling]
Oh, you may open it!
Oh, you can open it!
DAVID [Wistfully]
DAVID [Nostalgically]
May I?[Pg 30]
May I?
VERA [Smiling]
VERA [Grinning]
Yes, and quick—or it'll be Shabbos!
Yes, and hurry—or it'll be Shabbos!
[David looks up at her in wonder.]
David stares at her in awe.
MENDEL [Smiling]
MENDEL [Smiling]
You read your letter!
You've read your letter!
DAVID [Opens it eagerly, then smiles broadly with pleasure.]
DAVID [Opens it excitedly, then smiles widely with joy.]
Oh, Miss Revendal! Isn't that great! To play again at your Settlement. I am getting famous.
Oh, Miss Revendal! Isn't that amazing! To play again at your Settlement. I am becoming famous.
VERA
VERA
But we can't offer you a fee.
But we can't afford to pay you.
MENDEL [Quickly sotto voce to Vera]
MENDEL [Quickly whispering to Vera]
Thank you!
You're welcome!
DAVID
DAVID
A fee! I'd pay a fee to see all those happy immigrants you gather together—Dutchmen and Greeks, Poles and Norwegians, Welsh and Armenians. If you only had Jews, it would be as good as going to Ellis Island.
A fee! I'd pay a fee to see all those happy immigrants you bring together—Dutch, Greeks, Poles, Norwegians, Welsh, and Armenians. If you only had Jews, it would be just as good as going to Ellis Island.
VERA [Smiling]
VERA [Smiling]
What a strange taste! Who on earth wants to go to Ellis Island?
What a weird taste! Who even wants to go to Ellis Island?
DAVID
DAVID
Oh, I love going to Ellis Island to watch the ships coming in from Europe, and to think that all those weary, sea-tossed wanderers are feeling what I felt[Pg 31] when America first stretched out her great mother-hand to me!
Oh, I love going to Ellis Island to watch the ships arriving from Europe, and to think that all those tired, seasick travelers are feeling what I felt[Pg 31] when America first reached out her big motherly hand to me!
VERA [Softly]
VERA [Gently]
Were you very happy?
Were you really happy?
DAVID
DAVID
It was heaven. You must remember that all my life I had heard of America—everybody in our town had friends there or was going there or got money orders from there. The earliest game I played at was selling off my toy furniture and setting up in America. All my life America was waiting, beckoning, shining—the place where God would wipe away tears from off all faces.
It was paradise. You have to remember that my whole life I had heard about America—everyone in our town had friends there, was planning to go, or received money orders from there. The first game I played was selling my toy furniture and imagining myself in America. Throughout my life, America was always there, calling to me, glowing—the place where God would wipe away tears from everyone’s faces.
[He ends in a half-sob.]
He finishes with a half-sob.
MENDEL [Rises, as in terror]
MENDEL [Gets up, as in fear]
Now, now, David, don't get excited.
Now, now, David, don't get worked up.
[Approaches him.]
[Walks over to him.]
DAVID
DAVID
To think that the same great torch of liberty which threw its light across all the broad seas and lands into my little garret in Russia, is shining also for all those other weeping millions of Europe, shining wherever men hunger and are oppressed——
To think that the same great torch of freedom that cast its light across all the vast seas and lands into my small room in Russia is also shining for all those other grieving millions in Europe, shining wherever people are hungry and oppressed—
MENDEL [Soothingly]
MENDEL [Calmly]
Yes, yes, David.
Yeah, yeah, David.
[Laying hand on his shoulder]
[Touching his shoulder]
DAVID [Unheeding]
DAVID [Not Listening]
Shining over the starving villages of Italy and Ireland, over the swarming stony cities of Poland and Galicia, over the ruined farms of Roumania, over the shambles of Russia——
Shining over the starving villages of Italy and Ireland, over the swarming stony cities of Poland and Galicia, over the ruined farms of Romania, over the chaos of Russia——
MENDEL [Pleadingly]
MENDEL [Begging]
David!
David!
DAVID
DAVID
Oh, Miss Revendal, when I look at our Statue of Liberty, I just seem to hear the voice of America crying: "Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden and I will give you rest—rest——"
Oh, Miss Revendal, when I look at our Statue of Liberty, I just hear the voice of America crying: "Come to me all you who are struggling and burdened, and I will give you peace—peace——"
[He is now almost sobbing.]
He is nearly crying now.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Don't talk any more—you know it is bad for you.
Don't say anything more—you know it's not good for you.
DAVID
DAVID
But Miss Revendal asked—and I want to explain to her what America means to me.
But Miss Revendal asked—and I want to explain to her what America means to me.
MENDEL
MENDEL
You can explain it in your American symphony.
You can explain it in your American symphony.
VERA [Eagerly—to David]
VERA [Eagerly—to David]
You compose?
Do you compose?
DAVID [Embarrassed]
DAVID [Awkward]
Oh, uncle, why did you talk of—? Uncle always—my music is so thin and tinkling. When I am writing[Pg 33] my American symphony, it seems like thunder crashing through a forest full of bird songs. But next day—oh, next day!
Oh, Uncle, why did you bring that up? Uncle always—my music feels so light and tinkly. When I'm writing[Pg 33] my American symphony, it sounds like thunder rolling through a forest full of bird songs. But the next day—oh, the next day!
[He laughs dolefully and turns away.]
He laughs sadly and turns away.
VERA
VERA
So your music finds inspiration in America?
So your music is inspired by America?
DAVID
DAVID
Yes—in the seething of the Crucible.
Yes—in the heat of the Crucible.
VERA
VERA
The Crucible? I don't understand!
The Crucible? I don't get it!
DAVID
DAVID
Not understand! You, the Spirit of the Settlement!
Not understand! You, the Spirit of the Community!
[He rises and crosses to her and leans over the table, facing her.]
[i]He gets up, walks over to her, and leans on the table, looking at her.[/i]
Not understand that America is God's Crucible, the great Melting-Pot where all the races of Europe are melting and re-forming! Here you stand, good folk, think I, when I see them at Ellis Island, here you stand
Not understanding that America is God's Crucible, the great Melting Pot where all the races of Europe are blending and reshaping! Here you are, good people, I think, when I see them at Ellis Island, here you are.
[Graphically illustrating it on the table]
[Graphically illustrating it on the table]
in your fifty groups, with your fifty languages and histories, and your fifty blood hatreds and rivalries. But you won't be long like that, brothers, for these are the fires of God you've come to—these are the fires of God. A fig for your feuds and vendettas! Germans and Frenchmen, Irishmen and Englishmen, Jews and Russians—into the Crucible with you all! God is making the American.[Pg 34]
in your fifty groups, with your fifty languages and histories, and your fifty blood feuds and rivalries. But you won't stay like that for long, brothers, because these are the fires of God you've come to—these are the fires of God. Forget your conflicts and vendettas! Germans and French, Irish and English, Jews and Russians—into the Crucible with you all! God is shaping the American.[Pg 34]
MENDEL
MENDEL
I should have thought the American was made already—eighty millions of him.
I should have thought the American was already made—eighty million of them.
DAVID
DAVID
Eighty millions!
Eighty million!
[He smiles toward Vera in good-humoured derision.]
He smiles at Vera with good-natured mockery.
Eighty millions! Over a continent! Why, that cockleshell of a Britain has forty millions! No, uncle, the real American has not yet arrived. He is only in the Crucible, I tell you—he will be the fusion of all races, perhaps the coming superman. Ah, what a glorious Finale for my symphony—if I can only write it.
Eighty million! Across a whole continent! That tiny Britain has forty million! No, uncle, the true American hasn’t shown up yet. He’s still in the Crucible, I tell you—he will be the blend of all races, maybe even the next superhuman. Ah, what a beautiful ending for my symphony—if I can just write it.
VERA
VERA
But you have written some of it already! May I not see it?
But you've already written some of it! Can I see it?
DAVID [Relapsing into boyish shyness]
DAVID [Becoming shy again]
No, if you please, don't ask——
No, please don't ask—
[He moves over to his desk and nervously shuts it down and turns the keys of drawers as though protecting his MS.]
He moves over to his desk and nervously shuts it down and locks the drawers as if he’s protecting his manuscript.
VERA
VERA
Won't you give a bit of it at our Concert?
Won't you share a little of it at our Concert?
DAVID
DAVID
Oh, it needs an orchestra.
Oh, it needs a band.
VERA
VERA
MENDEL
MENDEL
You didn't tell me you played, Miss Revendal!
You didn’t mention that you play, Miss Revendal!
VERA
VERA
I told you less commonplace things.
I shared with you some uncommon things.
DAVID
DAVID
Miss Revendal plays quite like a professional.
Miss Revendal plays just like a pro.
VERA [Smiling]
VERA [Smiling]
I don't feel so complimented as you expect. You see I did have a professional training.
I don't feel as flattered as you think. You see, I did receive professional training.
MENDEL [Smiling]
MENDEL [Smiling]
And I thought you came to me for lessons!
And I thought you came to me for lessons!
[David laughs.]
David laughs.
VERA [Smiling]
VERA [Smiling]
No, I went to Petersburg——
No, I went to St. Petersburg——
DAVID [Dazed]
DAVID [Confused]
To Petersburg——?
To St. Petersburg——?
VERA [Smiling]
VERA [Smiling]
Naturally. To the Conservatoire. There wasn't much music to be had at Kishineff, a town where——
Naturally. To the Conservatoire. There wasn't much music to be found in Kishineff, a town where——
DAVID
DAVID
Kishineff!
Kishinev!
[He begins to tremble.]
He starts to shake.
VERA [Still smiling]
VERA [Still smiling]
MENDEL [Coming toward him, protectingly]
MENDEL [Approaching him, protectively]
Calm yourself, David.
Chill out, David.
DAVID
DAVID
Yes, yes—so you are a Russian!
Yes, yes—so you're from Russia!
[He shudders violently, staggers.]
He shudders violently and staggers.
VERA [Alarmed]
VERA [Concerned]
You are ill!
You're sick!
DAVID
DAVID
It is nothing, I—not much music at Kishineff! No, only the Death-March!... Mother! Father! Ah—cowards, murderers! And you!
It’s nothing, I—not much music in Kishineff! No, just the Death-March!... Mom! Dad! Ah—cowards, murderers! And you!
[He shakes his fist at the air.]
[He shakes his fist at the air.]
You, looking on with your cold butcher's face! O God! O God!
You, staring at me with your emotionless butcher's face! Oh God! Oh God!
[He bursts into hysterical sobs and runs, shamefacedly, through the door to his room.]
He breaks down in tears and hurriedly runs through the door to his room, feeling embarrassed.
VERA [Wildly]
VERA [Wildly]
What have I said? What have I done?
What did I say? What did I do?
MENDEL
MENDEL
Oh, I was afraid of this, I was afraid of this.
Oh, I was worried about this, I was worried about this.
FRAU QUIXANO [Who has fallen asleep over her book, wakes as if with a sense of the horror and gazes dazedly around, adding to the thrillingness of the moment]
FRAU QUIXANO [Who has dozed off with her book, wakes up as if feeling the terror and looks around in a daze, enhancing the excitement of the moment]
Dovidel! Wu is' Dovidel! Mir dacht sach—[Pg 37]—
Dovidel! Who is Dovidel! I really thought so—[Pg 37]—
MENDEL [Pressing her back to her slumbers]
MENDEL [Pressing her back to sleep]
Du träumst, Mutter! Schlaf!
You're dreaming, Mom! Sleep!
[She sinks back to sleep.]
She falls back asleep.
VERA [In hoarse whisper]
VERA [In a raspy voice]
His father and mother were massacred?
Did his parents die?
MENDEL [In same tense tone]
MENDEL [In same serious tone]
Before his eyes—father, mother, sisters, down to the youngest babe, whose skull was battered in by a hooligan's heel.
Before him—father, mother, sisters, all the way down to the youngest baby, whose skull was crushed by a thug's foot.
VERA
VERA
How did he escape?
How did he get away?
MENDEL
MENDEL
He was shot in the shoulder, and fell unconscious. As he wasn't a girl, the hooligans left him for dead and hurried to fresh sport.
He was shot in the shoulder and passed out. Since he wasn't a girl, the thugs left him for dead and rushed off to find new fun.
VERA
VERA
Terrible! Terrible!
Awful! Awful!
[Almost in tears.]
About to cry.
MENDEL [Shrugging shoulders, hopelessly]
MENDEL [Shrugging shoulders, feeling hopeless]
It is only Jewish history!... David belongs to the species of pogrom orphan—they arrive in the States by almost every ship.
It’s just Jewish history! David is one of those pogrom orphans—they come to the States on almost every ship.
VERA
VERA
Poor boy! Poor boy! And he looked so happy!
Poor kid! Poor kid! And he looked so happy!
MENDEL
MENDEL
So he is, most of the time—a sunbeam took human shape when he was born. But naturally that dreadful scene left a scar on his brain, as the bullet left a scar on his shoulder, and he is always liable to see red when Kishineff is mentioned.
So he is, most of the time—a sunbeam took human shape when he was born. But naturally, that awful scene left a mark on his mind, just like the bullet left a scar on his shoulder, and he always tends to feel angry when Kishineff comes up.
VERA
VERA
I will never mention my miserable birthplace to him again.
I will never bring up my awful hometown to him again.
MENDEL
MENDEL
But you see every few months the newspapers tell us of another pogrom, and then he screams out against what he calls that butcher's face, so that I tremble for his reason. I tremble even when I see him writing that crazy music about America, for it only means he is brooding over the difference between America and Russia.
But you see, every few months the newspapers report on another pogrom, and then he rages against what he calls that butcher's face, which makes me worry about his sanity. I even get anxious when I see him composing that wild music about America, because it just means he's contemplating the differences between America and Russia.
VERA
VERA
But perhaps—perhaps—all the terrible memory will pass peacefully away in his music.
But maybe—maybe—all the awful memories will fade away quietly in his music.
MENDEL
MENDEL
There will always be the scar on his shoulder to remind him—whenever the wound twinges, it brings up these terrible faces and visions.
There will always be the scar on his shoulder to remind him—whenever the wound aches, it brings up these awful faces and images.
VERA
VERA
MENDEL
MENDEL
No—on his left. For a violinist that is even worse.
No—on his left. For a violinist, that's even worse.
VERA
VERA
Ah, of course—the weight and the fingering.
Ah, of course—the weight and the way it feels in your hands.
[Subconsciously placing and fingering an imaginary violin.]
[i]Subconsciously holding and playing an imaginary violin.[/i]
MENDEL
MENDEL
That is why I fear so for his future—he will never be strong enough for the feats of bravura that the public demands.
That’s why I worry so much about his future—he’ll never be strong enough for the bold performances that people expect.
VERA
VERA
The wild beasts! I feel more ashamed of my country than ever. But there's his symphony.
The wild animals! I’m more embarrassed by my country than ever. But there's his symphony.
MENDEL
MENDEL
And who will look at that amateurish stuff? He knows so little of harmony and counterpoint—he breaks all the rules. I've tried to give him a few pointers—but he ought to have gone to Germany.
And who would pay attention to that amateurish stuff? He knows so little about harmony and counterpoint—he just breaks all the rules. I've tried to give him some tips—but he really should have gone to Germany.
VERA
VERA
Perhaps it's not too late.
Maybe it's not too late.
MENDEL [Passionately]
MENDEL [With great passion]
Ah, if you and your friends could help him! See—I'm begging after all. But it's not for myself.
Ah, if you and your friends could help him! Look—I’m actually begging here. But it's not for me.
VERA
VERA
My father loves music. Perhaps he—but no! he[Pg 40] lives in Kishineff. But I will think—there are people here—I will write to you.
My dad loves music. Maybe he—but no! he[Pg 40] lives in Kishineff. But I’ll think—there are people here—I’ll write to you.
MENDEL [Fervently]
MENDEL [Passionately]
Thank you! Thank you!
Thanks! Thanks!
VERA
VERA
Now you must go to him. Good-bye. Tell him I count upon him for the Concert.
Now you need to go see him. Goodbye. Let him know I’m relying on him for the concert.
MENDEL
MENDEL
How good you are!
You're so good!
[He follows her to the street-door.]
[He walks with her to the front door.]
VERA [At door]
VERA [At the door]
Say good-bye for me to your mother—she seems asleep.
Say goodbye for me to your mom—she looks like she's sleeping.
MENDEL [Opening outer door]
MENDEL [Opening front door]
I am sorry it is snowing so.
I’m sorry it’s snowing so much.
VERA
VERA
We Russians are used to it.
We Russians are used to it.
[Smiling, at exit]
[Smiling, at the exit]
Good-bye—let us hope your David will turn out a Rubinstein.
Goodbye—let's hope your David becomes a Rubinstein.
MENDEL [Closing the doors softly]
MENDEL [Shutting the doors gently]
I never thought a Russian Christian could be so human.
I never thought a Russian Christian could be so relatable.
Gott in Himmel—my dancing class!
God in Heaven—my dance class!
[He hurries into the overcoat hanging on the hat-rack. Re-enter David, having composed himself, but still somewhat dazed.]
[i]He rushes into the overcoat hanging on the hat rack. Re-enter David, having gathered himself, but still a bit stunned.[/i]
DAVID
DAVID
She is gone? Oh, but I have driven her away by my craziness. Is she very angry?
She’s gone? Oh no, but I pushed her away with my craziness. Is she really angry?
MENDEL
MENDEL
Quite the contrary—she expects you at the Concert, and what is more——
Quite the opposite—she's expecting you at the concert, and what's more——
DAVID [Ecstatically]
DAVID [Excited]
And she understood! She understood my Crucible of God! Oh, uncle, you don't know what it means to me to have somebody who understands me. Even you have never understood——
And she got it! She got my Crucible of God! Oh, uncle, you have no idea how much it means to me to have someone who understands me. Even you have never understood——
MENDEL [Wounded]
MENDEL [Injured]
Nonsense! How can Miss Revendal understand you better than your own uncle?
Nonsense! How could Miss Revendal understand you better than your own uncle?
DAVID [Mystically exalted]
DAVID [Spiritually elevated]
I can't explain—I feel it.
I can’t explain—I just feel it.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Of course she's interested in your music, thank Heaven. But what true understanding can there be between a Russian Jew and a Russian Christian?[Pg 42]
Of course she's interested in your music, thank goodness. But what real understanding can there be between a Russian Jew and a Russian Christian?[Pg 42]
DAVID
DAVID
What understanding? Aren't we both Americans?
What understanding? Aren't we both Americans?
MENDEL
MENDEL
Well, I haven't time to discuss it now.
Well, I don't have time to talk about it right now.
[He winds his muffler round his throat.]
[i]He wraps his scarf around his neck.[/i]
DAVID
DAVID
Why, where are you going?
Why, where are you off to?
MENDEL [Ironically]
MENDEL [Ironically]
Where should I be going—in the snow—on the eve of the Sabbath? Suppose we say to synagogue!
Where should I go—in the snow—on the eve of the Sabbath? Let's say to the synagogue!
DAVID
DAVID
Oh, uncle—how you always seem to hanker after those old things!
Oh, Uncle—how you always seem to long for those old things!
MENDEL [Tartly]
MENDEL [Sarcastically]
Nonsense!
Nonsense!
[He takes his umbrella from the stand.]
[i]He grabs his umbrella from the stand.[/i]
I don't like to see our people going to pieces, that's all.
I just don’t want to see our people falling apart, that’s all.
DAVID
DAVID
Then why did you come to America? Why didn't you work for a Jewish land? You're not even a Zionist.
Then why did you come to America? Why didn't you work for a Jewish homeland? You're not even a Zionist.
MENDEL
MENDEL
I can't argue now. There's a pack of giggling schoolgirls waiting to waltz.[Pg 43]
I can't argue right now. There's a group of giggling schoolgirls waiting to dance.[Pg 43]
DAVID
DAVID
The fresh romping young things! Think of their happiness! I should love to play for them.
The lively young ones! Just imagine their joy! I would love to play for them.
MENDEL [Sarcastically]
MENDEL [Sarcastically]
I can see you are yourself again.
I see you’re back to being yourself again.
[He opens the street-door—turns back.]
He opens the door—looks back.
What about your own lesson? Can't we go together?
What about your lesson? Can't we go together?
DAVID
DAVID
I must first write down what is singing in my soul—oh, uncle, it seems as if I knew suddenly what was wanting in my music!
I need to express what's resonating in my soul—oh, uncle, it feels like I've suddenly realized what's missing in my music!
MENDEL [Drily]
MENDEL [Dryly]
Well, don't forget what is wanting in the house! The rent isn't paid yet.
Well, don't forget what needs to be done in the house! The rent still isn't paid.
[Exit through street-door. As he goes out, he touches and kisses the Mezuzah on the door-post, with a subconsciously antagonistic revival of religious impulse. David opens his desk, takes out a pile of musical manuscript, sprawls over his chair and, humming to himself, scribbles feverishly with the quill. After a few moments Frau Quixano yawns, wakes, and stretches herself. Then she looks at the clock.]
He exits through the street door. As he leaves, he touches and kisses the Mezuzah on the doorpost, a subconscious yet rebellious gesture towards his faith. David opens his desk, pulls out a stack of music sheets, slumps into his chair, and starts humming to himself while furiously scribbling with a quill. After a little while, Ms. Quixano yawns, wakes up, and stretches. Then she glances at the clock.
FRAU QUIXANO
Frau Quixano
Shabbos!
Shabbat!
[Pg 44][She rises and goes to the table and sees there are no candles, walks to the chiffonier and gets them and places them in the candlesticks, then lights the candles, muttering a ceremonial Hebrew benediction.]
[Pg 44][She stands up and walks to the table, noticing that there are no candles. She goes over to the dresser, picks them up, and puts them in the candlesticks, then lights the candles while quietly saying a Hebrew blessing.]
Boruch atto haddoshem ellôheinu melech hoôlam assher kiddishonu bemitzvôsov vettzivonu lehadlik neir shel shabbos.
Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments and instructed us to light the Sabbath candle.
[She pulls down the blinds of the two windows, then she goes to the rapt composer and touches him, remindingly, on the shoulder. He does not move, but continues writing.]
She lowers the blinds on the two windows, then she approaches the focused composer and gently touches his shoulder to get his attention. He doesn’t respond but keeps writing.
Dovidel!
Look!
[He looks up dazedly. She points to the candles.]
[i]He looks up, confused. She points to the candles.[/i]
Shabbos!
Shabbat!
[A sweet smile comes over his face, he throws the quill resignedly away and submits his head to her hands and her muttered Hebrew blessing.]
A sweet smile spreads across his face, he tosses the quill aside with resignation and leans his head into her hands as she softly murmurs a Hebrew blessing.
Yesimcho elôhim ke-efrayim vechimnasseh—yevorechecho haddoshem veyishmerecho, yoer hadoshem ponov eilecho vechunecho, yisso hadoshem ponov eilecho veyosem lecho sholôm.
May God bless you and keep you—may He shine His face upon you and be gracious to you, may He look upon you with favor and give you peace.
[Then she goes toward the kitchen. As she turns at the door, he is again writing. She shakes her finger at him, repeating]
[i>Then she heads to the kitchen. As she turns at the door, he is writing again. She shakes her finger at him, repeating]
Gut Shabbos!
Happy Sabbath!
DAVID
DAVID
Gut Shabbos!
Good Shabbos!
[Puts down the pen and smiles after her till the door closes, then with a deep sigh takes his cape from the peg and his violin-case, pauses, still humming, to[Pg 45] take up his pen and write down a fresh phrase, finally puts on his hat and is just about to open the street-door when Kathleen enters from her bedroom fully dressed to go, and laden with a large brown paper parcel and an umbrella. He turns at the sound of her footsteps and remains at the door, holding his violin-case during the ensuing dialogue.]
[i>Puts down the pen and smiles after her until the door closes, then with a deep sigh grabs his cape from the hook and his violin case, pauses, still humming, to[Pg 45] pick up his pen and jot down a new phrase, finally puts on his hat and is just about to open the front door when Kathleen walks in from her bedroom fully dressed to leave, carrying a large brown paper package and an umbrella. He turns at the sound of her footsteps and stays by the door, holding his violin case during the conversation that follows.]
DAVID
DAVID
You're not going out this bitter weather?
You're not going out in this freezing weather?
KATHLEEN [Sharply fending him off with her umbrella]
KATHLEEN [Fending him off sharply with her umbrella]
And who's to shtay me?
And who’s to stop me?
DAVID
DAVID
Oh, but you mustn't—I'll do your errand—what is it?
Oh, but you shouldn’t—I will run your errand—what do you need?
KATHLEEN [Indignantly]
KATHLEEN [Angrily]
Errand, is it, indeed! I'm not here!
Errand, really! I'm not around!
DAVID
DAVID
Not here?
Not around?
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
I'm lavin', they'll come for me thrunk—and ye'll witness I don't take the candleshtick.
I'm leaving, they'll come for me drunk—and you'll see I don't take the candlestick.
DAVID
DAVID
But who's sending you away?[Pg 46]
But who's kicking you out?
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
It's sending meself away I am—yer houly grandmother has me disthroyed intirely.
It's sending myself away I am—your holy grandmother has me completely destroyed.
DAVID
DAVID
Why, what has the poor old la—?
Why, what has the poor old lady—?
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
I don't be saltin' the mate and I do be mixin' the crockery and——!
I don’t add salt to the tea and I mix the dishes and—!
DAVID [Gently]
DAVID [Softly]
I know, I know—but, Kathleen, remember she was brought up to these things from childhood. And her father was a Rabbi.
I get it, I really do—but, Kathleen, remember she was raised with all of this from a young age. And her dad was a rabbi.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
What's that? A priest?
What's that? A pastor?
DAVID
DAVID
A sort of priest. In Russia he was a great man. Her husband, too, was a mighty scholar, and to give him time to study the holy books she had to do chores all day for him and the children.
A kind of priest. In Russia, he was a big deal. Her husband was a powerful scholar, and to allow him time to study the holy books, she had to do chores all day for him and the kids.
KATHLEEN
KAT
Oh, those priests!
Oh, those pastors!
DAVID [Smiling]
DAVID [Smiling]
No, he wasn't a priest. But he took sick and died[Pg 47] and the children left her—went to America or heaven or other far-off places—and she was left all penniless and alone.
No, he wasn't a priest. But he got sick and died[Pg 47] and the kids left her—went to America or heaven or other distant places—and she was left all broke and alone.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Poor ould lady.
Poor old lady.
DAVID
DAVID
Not so old yet, for she was married at fifteen.
Not too long ago, since she got married at fifteen.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Poor young crathur!
Poor young creature!
DAVID
DAVID
But she was still the good angel of the congregation—sat up with the sick and watched over the dead.
But she was still the good angel of the community—stayed up with the sick and watched over the deceased.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Saints alive! And not scared?
Saints alive! And not afraid?
DAVID
DAVID
No, nothing scared her—except me. I got a broken-down fiddle and used to play it even on Shabbos—I was very naughty. But she was so lovely to me. I still remember the heavenly taste of a piece of Motso she gave me dipped in raisin wine! Passover cake, you know.
No, nothing scared her—except for me. I had a beat-up fiddle and I would play it even on Shabbos—I was really naughty. But she was so sweet to me. I still remember the amazing taste of a piece of Motso she gave me dipped in raisin wine! Passover cake, you know.
KATHLEEN [Proudly]
KATHLEEN [Feeling proud]
Oh, I know Motso.
Oh, I know Motso.
DAVID [Smacks his lips, repeats]
DAVID [Smacks his lips, repeats]
Heavenly![Pg 48]
Heavenly!
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Sure, I must tashte it.
Sure, I must taste it.
DAVID [Shaking his head, mysteriously]
DAVID [Shaking his head, mysteriously]
Only little boys get that tashte.
Only little boys get that taste.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
That's quare.
That's weird.
DAVID [Smiling]
DAVID [Smiling]
Very quare. And then one day my uncle sent the old lady a ticket to come to America. But it is not so happy for her here because you see my uncle has to be near his theatre and can't live in the Jewish quarter, and so nobody understands her, and she sits all the livelong day alone—alone with her book and her religion and her memories——
Very strange. Then one day my uncle sent the old lady a ticket to come to America. But it's not so happy for her here because my uncle has to be close to his theater and can't live in the Jewish neighborhood, so nobody understands her. She sits all day long—alone with her book, her religion, and her memories—
KATHLEEN [Breaking down]
KATHLEEN [Having a breakdown]
Oh, Mr. David!
Oh, Mr. David!
DAVID
DAVID
And now all this long, cold, snowy evening she'll sit by the fire alone, thinking of her dead, and the fire will sink lower and lower, and she won't be able to touch it, because it's the holy Sabbath, and there'll be no kind Kathleen to brighten up the grey ashes, and then at last, sad and shivering, she'll creep up to her room without a candlestick, and there in the dark and the cold—[Pg 49]—
And now, all this long, cold, snowy evening she'll sit by the fire alone, thinking about her dead, and the fire will burn lower and lower, and she won't be able to touch it because it's the holy Sabbath, and there won't be any kind Kathleen to brighten up the gray ashes, and then finally, feeling sad and cold, she'll creep up to her room without a candlestick, and there in the dark and the cold—[Pg 49]—
KATHLEEN [Hysterically bursting into tears, dropping her parcel, and untying her bonnet-strings]
KATHLEEN [Hysterically bursting into tears, dropping her package, and untying her bonnet strings]
Oh, Mr. David, I won't mix the crockery, I won't——
Oh, Mr. David, I won't mix the dishes, I won't——
DAVID [Heartily]
DAVID [Enthusiastically]
Of course you won't. Good night.
Of course you won't. Good night.
[He slips out hurriedly through the street-door as Kathleen throws off her bonnet, and the curtain falls quickly. As it rises again, she is seen strenuously [Pg 50]poking the fire, illumined by its red glow.]
He hurriedly slips out through the street door as Kathleen removes her bonnet, and the curtain quickly falls. When it rises again, she is seen vigorously [Pg 50] poking the fire, illuminated by its red glow.
Act II
The same scene on an afternoon a month later. David is discovered at his desk, scribbling music in a fever of enthusiasm. Mendel, dressed in his best, is playing softly on the piano, watching David. After an instant or two of indecision, he puts down the piano-lid with a bang and rises decisively.
The same scene on an afternoon a month later. David is found at his desk, excitedly writing music. Mendel, dressed in his best, is playing quietly on the piano while watching David. After a moment of hesitation, he slams the piano lid shut and stands up firmly.
MENDEL
MENDEL
David!
David!
DAVID [Putting up his left hand]
DAVID [Waving his left hand]
Please, please——
Please, please—
[He writes feverishly.]
He writes passionately.
MENDEL
MENDEL
But I want to talk to you seriously—at once.
But I want to talk to you seriously—right now.
DAVID
DAVID
I'm just re-writing the Finale. Oh, such a splendid inspiration!
I'm just rewriting the finale. Oh, what a wonderful inspiration!
[He writes on.]
He keeps writing.
MENDEL [Shrugs his shoulders and reseats himself at piano. He plays a bar or two. Looks at watch impatiently. Resolutely]
MENDEL [Shrugs his shoulders and sits back down at the piano. He plays a few bars. Checks his watch impatiently. Determined]
David, I've got wonderful news for you. Miss Revendal is bringing somebody to see you, and we have hopes of getting you sent to Germany to study composition.
David, I have amazing news for you. Miss Revendal is bringing someone to see you, and we’re hoping to get you sent to Germany to study composition.
[Pg 52][David does not reply, but writes rapidly on.]
[Pg 52][David stays silent but keeps writing quickly.]
Why, he hasn't heard a word!
He hasn't heard anything!
[He shouts.]
He yells.
David!
David!
DAVID [Writing on]
DAVID [Typing on]
I can't, uncle. I must put it down while that glorious impression is fresh.
I can't, uncle. I have to write it down while that amazing impression is fresh.
MENDEL
MENDEL
What impression? You only went to the People's Alliance.
What impression? You just went to the People's Alliance.
DAVID
DAVID
Yes, and there I saw the Jewish children—a thousand of 'em—saluting the Flag.
Yes, and there I saw the Jewish children—thousands of them—saluting the Flag.
[He writes on.]
He keeps writing.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Well, what of that?
So, what about that?
DAVID
DAVID
What of that?
What about that?
[He throws down his quill and jumps up.]
[i]He drops his pen and stands up.[/i]
But just fancy it, uncle. The Stars and Stripes unfurled, and a thousand childish voices, piping and foreign, fresh from the lands of oppression, hailing its fluttering folds. I cried like a baby.
But just imagine it, uncle. The Stars and Stripes waving, and a thousand childish voices, singing and foreign, fresh from places of oppression, celebrating its fluttering fabric. I cried like a baby.
MENDEL
MENDEL
I'm afraid you are one.[Pg 53]
I'm afraid you are one.
DAVID
DAVID
Ah, but if you had heard them—"Flag of our Great Republic"—the words have gone singing at my heart ever since—
Ah, but if you had heard them—"Flag of our Great Republic"—those words have been echoing in my heart ever since—
[He turns to the flag over the door.]
He looks at the flag above the door.
"Flag of our Great Republic, guardian of our homes, whose stars and stripes stand for Bravery, Purity, Truth, and Union, we salute thee. We, the natives of distant lands, who find
"Flag of our Great Republic, protector of our homes, whose stars and stripes represent Bravery, Purity, Truth, and Unity, we salute you. We, the natives of far-off lands, who find
[Half-sobbing]
Half-crying
rest under thy folds, do pledge our hearts, our lives, our sacred honour to love and protect thee, our Country, and the liberty of the American people for ever."
rest under your folds, we pledge our hearts, our lives, our sacred honor to love and protect you, our Country, and the freedom of the American people forever.
[He ends almost hysterically.]
He finishes almost hysterically.
MENDEL [Soothingly]
MENDEL [Calmly]
Quite right. But you needn't get so excited over it.
That's true. But you don't need to get so worked up about it.
DAVID
DAVID
Not when one hears the roaring of the fires of God? Not when one sees the souls melting in the Crucible? Uncle, all those little Jews will grow up Americans!
Not when you hear the roaring of God's fires? Not when you see the souls melting in the Crucible? Uncle, all those little Jews will grow up to be Americans!
MENDEL [Putting a pacifying hand on his shoulder and forcing him into a chair]
MENDEL [Calming him by putting a hand on his shoulder and guiding him into a chair]
Sit down. I want to talk to you about your affairs.
Sit down. I want to talk to you about what's going on in your life.
DAVID [Sitting]
DAVID [Sitting down]
My affairs! But I've been talking about them all the time![Pg 54]
My issues! But I've been talking about them non-stop![Pg 54]
MENDEL
MENDEL
Nonsense, David.
That's ridiculous, David.
[He sits beside him.]
He sits next to him.
Don't you think it's time you got into a wider world?
Don't you think it's time you stepped into a bigger world?
DAVID
DAVID
Eh? This planet's wide enough for me.
Eh? This planet is big enough for me.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Do be serious. You don't want to live all your life in this room.
Do take it seriously. You don't want to spend your entire life in this room.
DAVID [Looks round]
DAVID [Glances around]
What's the matter with this room? It's princely.
What's wrong with this room? It's magnificent.
MENDEL [Raising his hands in horror]
MENDEL [Raising his hands in shock]
Princely!
Regal!
DAVID
DAVID
Imperial. Remember when I first saw it—after pigging a week in the rocking steerage, swinging in a berth as wide as my fiddle-case, hung near the cooking-engines; imagine the hot rancid smell of the food, the oil of the machinery, the odours of all that close-packed, sea-sick——
Imperial. I remember when I first saw it—after spending a week in the cramped steerage, swinging in a berth as wide as my fiddle case, which was right next to the cooking equipment; picture the hot, rancid smell of the food, the oil from the machinery, the odors from all that closely packed, seasick crowd—
MENDEL [Putting his hand over David's mouth]
MENDEL [Covering David's mouth]
Don't! You make me ill! How could you ever bear it?[Pg 55]
Don't! You make me sick! How could you ever handle it?[Pg 55]
DAVID [Smiling]
DAVID [Smiling]
I was quite happy—I only had to fancy I'd been shipwrecked, and that after clinging to a plank five days without food or water on the great lonely Atlantic, my frozen, sodden form had been picked up by this great safe steamer and given this delightful dry berth, regular meals, and the spectacle of all these friendly faces.... Do you know who was on board that boat? Quincy Davenport.
I was really happy—I just had to imagine I’d been shipwrecked, and that after clinging to a plank for five days without food or water in the vast, lonely Atlantic, my cold, drenched body had been rescued by this huge, safe ship and given this wonderful dry spot, regular meals, and the sight of all these friendly faces.... Do you know who was on that boat? Quincy Davenport.
MENDEL
MENDEL
The lord of corn and oil?
The lord of corn and oil?
DAVID [Smiling]
DAVID [Grinning]
Yes, even we wretches in the steerage felt safe to think the lord was up above, we believed the company would never dare drown him. But could even Quincy Davenport command a cabin like this?
Yes, even we unfortunate ones in steerage felt reassured that the lord was up above; we believed the company would never risk drowning him. But could even Quincy Davenport manage a cabin like this?
[Waving his arm round the room.]
[Waving his arm around the room.]
Why, uncle, we have a cabin worth a thousand dollars—a thousand dollars a week—and what's more, it doesn't wobble!
Why, uncle, we have a cabin worth a thousand dollars—a thousand dollars a week—and what's more, it’s sturdy!
[He plants his feet voluptuously upon the floor.]
He sensually places his feet on the floor.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Come, come, David, I asked you to be serious. Surely, some day you'd like your music produced?
Come on, David, I asked you to take this seriously. Surely, someday you'd want your music produced?
DAVID [Jumps up]
DAVID [Leaps up]
Wouldn't it be glorious? To hear it all actually coming out of violins and 'cellos, drums and trumpets.[Pg 56]
Wouldn't it be amazing? To hear it all actually coming from violins and cellos, drums and trumpets.[Pg 56]
MENDEL
MENDEL
And you'd like it to go all over the world?
And you want it to spread all around the world?
DAVID
DAVID
All over the world and all down the ages.
All around the world and throughout history.
MENDEL
MENDEL
But don't you see that unless you go and study seriously in Germany——?
But don't you see that unless you go study seriously in Germany—?
[Enter Kathleen from kitchen, carrying a furnished tea-tray with ear-shaped cakes, bread and butter, etc., and wearing a grotesque false nose. Mendel cries out in amaze.]
[Enter Kathleen from the kitchen, carrying a beautifully arranged tea tray with ear-shaped cakes, bread and butter, and more, while wearing a silly fake nose. Mendel exclaims in surprise.]
Kathleen!
Kathleen!
DAVID [Roaring with boyish laughter]
DAVID [Laughing like a kid]
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
KATHLEEN [Standing still with her tray]
KATHLEEN [Staying put with her tray]
Sure, what's the matter?
Sure, what's up?
DAVID
DAVID
Look in the glass!
Check yourself in the mirror!
KATHLEEN [Going to the mantel]
KATHLEEN [Walking to the mantel]
Houly Moses!
Holy Moses!
[She drops the tray, which Mendel catches, and snatches off the nose.]
She drops the tray, which Mendel catches, and rips off the nose.
Och, I forgot to take it off—'twas the misthress gave it me—I put it on to cheer her up.[Pg 57]
Oh, I forgot to take it off—it was the mistress who gave it to me—I put it on to cheer her up.[Pg 57]
DAVID
DAVID
Is she so miserable, then?
Is she really that miserable?
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Terrible low, Mr. David, to-day being Purim.
Terribly low, Mr. David, since today is Purim.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Purim! Is to-day Purim?
Purim! Is today Purim?
[Gives her the tea-tray back. Kathleen, to take it, drops her nose and forgets to pick it up.]
Gives her the tea tray back. Kathleen, to take it, drops her head and forgets to pick it up.
DAVID
DAVID
But Purim is a merry time, Kathleen, like your Carnival. Haven't you read the book of Esther—how the Jews of Persia escaped massacre?
But Purim is a fun time, Kathleen, just like your Carnival. Haven't you read the book of Esther—how the Jews of Persia avoided being killed?
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
That's what the misthress is so miserable about. Ye don't keep the Carnival. There's noses for both of ye in the kitchen—didn't I go with her to Hester Street to buy 'em?—but ye don't be axin' for 'em. And to see your noses layin' around so solemn and neglected, faith, it nearly makes me chry meself.
That's what the mistress is so unhappy about. You don't keep the Carnival. There are noses for both of you in the kitchen—didn't I go with her to Hester Street to buy them?—but you aren't asking for them. And to see your noses just lying around so seriously and ignored, honestly, it almost makes me cry myself.
MENDEL [Bitterly to himself]
MENDEL [Bitterly to himself]
Who can remember about Purim in America?
Who remembers about Purim in America?
DAVID [Half-smiling]
DAVID [Half-smiling]
Poor granny, tell her to come in and I'll play her Purim jig.[Pg 58]
Poor granny, tell her to come in and I'll play her Purim jig.[Pg 58]
MENDEL [Hastily]
MENDEL [Quickly]
No, no, David, not here—the visitors!
No, no, David, not here—the guests!
DAVID
DAVID
Visitors? What visitors?
Visitors? What guests?
MENDEL [Impatiently]
MENDEL [Impatiently]
That's just what I've been trying to explain.
That's exactly what I've been trying to say.
DAVID
DAVID
Well, I can play in the kitchen.
Well, I can cook in the kitchen.
[He takes his violin. Exit to kitchen. Mendel sighs and shrugs his shoulders hopelessly at the boy's perversity, then fingers the cups and saucers.]
He picks up his violin and heads to the kitchen. Mendel sighs and hopelessly shrugs at the boy's stubbornness, then fiddles with the cups and saucers.
MENDEL [Anxiously]
MENDEL [Nervously]
Is that the best tea-set?
Is that the best tea set?
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Can't you see it's the Passover set!
Can't you see it's the Passover meal set!
[Ruefully]
[Sadly]
And shpiled intirely it'll be now for our Passover.... And the misthress thought the visitors might like to thry some of her Purim cakes.
And completely spoiled it'll be now for our Passover... And the mistress thought the visitors might like to try some of her Purim cakes.
[Indicates ear-shaped cakes on tray.]
Ear-shaped cakes on tray.
MENDEL [Bitterly]
MENDEL [Harshly]
Purim cakes!
Purim treats!
[He turns his back on her and stares moodily out of the [Pg 59]window.]
He turns away from her and gazes sulkily out of the [Pg 59]window.
KATHLEEN [Mutters contemptuously]
KATHLEEN [Mutters disdainfully]
Call yerself a Jew and you forgettin' to keep Purim!
Call yourself a Jew and you're forgetting to celebrate Purim!
[She is going back to the kitchen when a merry Slavic dance breaks out, softened by the door; her feet unconsciously get more and more into dance step, and at last she jigs out. As she opens and passes through the door, the music sounds louder.]
She heads back to the kitchen when a lively Slavic dance starts playing softly through the door; her feet instinctively start moving to the rhythm, and before she knows it, she’s dancing along. As she opens the door and steps through, the music gets louder.
FRAU QUIXANO [Heard from kitchen]
FRAU QUIXANO [Heard from the kitchen]
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Kathleen!!
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Kathleen!!
[Mendel's feet, too, begin to take the swing of the music, and his feet dance as he stares out of the window. Suddenly the hoot of an automobile is heard, followed by the rattling up of the car.]
Mendel's feet also start to move to the rhythm of the music, and he dances as he gazes out of the window. Suddenly, the honk of a car is heard, followed by the sound of the car approaching.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Ah, she has brought somebody swell!
Ah, she has brought someone awesome!
[He throws open the doors and goes out eagerly to meet the visitors. The dance music goes on softly throughout the scene.]
He flings the doors open and rushes out excitedly to greet the visitors. The dance music plays softly in the background throughout the scene.
QUINCY DAVENPORT [Outside]
QUINCY DAVENPORT [Outdoors]
Oh, thank you—I leave the coats in the car.
Oh, thank you—I’ll leave the coats in the car.
[Enter an instant later Quincy Davenport and Vera Revendal, Mendel in the rear. Vera is dressed much as before, but with a motor veil, which she takes off during the scene. Davenport is a dude, aping the air of a European sporting clubman. Aged about thirty-five and well set-up, he wears an orchid and an intermittent eyeglass, and gives the impression of a coarse-fibred and patronisingly facetious [Pg 60]but not bad-hearted man, spoiled by prosperity.]
[Enter a moment later Quincy Davenport and Vera Revendal, with Mendel in the back. Vera is dressed similarly as before, but now she’s wearing a motor veil, which she removes during the scene. Davenport is a dandy, mimicking the style of a European club member. Around thirty-five and well-built, he sports an orchid and a sporadic eyeglass, projecting the vibe of a coarse, patronizingly funny [Pg 60] but not inherently bad person, spoiled by wealth.]
MENDEL
MENDEL
Won't you be seated?
Would you like to sit?
VERA
VERA
First let me introduce my friend, who is good enough to interest himself in your nephew—Mr. Quincy Davenport.
First, let me introduce my friend who is kind enough to take an interest in your nephew—Mr. Quincy Davenport.
MENDEL [Struck of a heap]
MENDEL [Hit hard]
Mr. Quincy Davenport! How strange!
Mr. Quincy Davenport! How bizarre!
VERA
VERA
What is strange?
What’s weird?
MENDEL
MENDEL
David just mentioned Mr. Davenport's name—said they travelled to New York on the same boat.
David just brought up Mr. Davenport's name—said they traveled to New York on the same boat.
QUINCY
QUINCY
Impossible! Always travel on my own yacht. Slow but select. Must have been another man of the same name—my dad. Ha! Ha! Ha!
Impossible! Always travel on my own yacht. Slow but exclusive. Must have been another guy with the same name—my dad. Ha! Ha! Ha!
MENDEL
MENDEL
Ah, of course. I thought you were too young.
Ah, I see. I thought you were too young.
QUINCY
QUINCY
My dad, Miss Revendal, is one of those antiquated Americans who are always in a hurry!
My dad, Miss Revendal, is one of those old-fashioned Americans who are always rushing around!
VERA
VERA
QUINCY
QUINCY
Precisely! Ha! Ha! Ha!
Exactly! Ha! Ha! Ha!
MENDEL
MENDEL
Won't you sit down—I'll go and prepare David.
Won't you take a seat—I’ll go get David ready.
VERA [Sitting]
VERA [Sitting down]
You've not prepared him yet?
You haven't prepared him yet?
MENDEL
MENDEL
I've tried to more than once—but I never really got to——
I've tried more than once—but I never really got to——
[He smiles]
He grins
to Germany.
to Germany.
[Quincy sits.]
Quincy is sitting.
VERA
VERA
Then prepare him for three visitors.
Then prepare him for three visitors.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Three?
Three?
VERA
VERA
You see Mr. Davenport himself is no judge of music.
You see, Mr. Davenport himself isn’t a good judge of music.
QUINCY [Jumps up]
QUINCY [Leaps up]
I beg your pardon.
Excuse me.
VERA
VERA
QUINCY
QUINCY
Ah, of course not. Music should be heard, not seen—like that jolly jig. Is that your David?
Ah, of course not. Music should be heard, not seen—like that cheerful dance. Is that your David?
MENDEL
MENDEL
Oh, you mustn't judge him by that. He's just fooling.
Oh, you shouldn't judge him by that. He's just kidding around.
QUINCY
QUINCY
Oh, he'd better not fool with Poppy. Poppy's awful severe.
Oh, he’d better not mess with Poppy. Poppy's really strict.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Poppy?
Poppy?
QUINCY
QUINCY
Pappelmeister—my private orchestra conductor.
Pappelmeister—my personal orchestra conductor.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Is it your orchestra Pappelmeister conducts?
Is it your orchestra that Pappelmeister conducts?
QUINCY
QUINCY
Well, I pay the piper—and the drummer too!
Well, I pay the piper—and the drummer as well!
[He chuckles.]
He laughs.
MENDEL [Sadly]
MENDEL [Unfortunately]
I wanted to play in it, but he turned me down.
I wanted to play in it, but he said no.
QUINCY
QUINCY
I told you he was awful severe.
I told you he was really strict.
He only allows me comic opera once a week. My wife calls him the Bismarck of the baton.
He only lets me listen to comic opera once a week. My wife calls him the Bismarck of conducting.
MENDEL [Reverently]
MENDEL [With respect]
A great conductor!
An amazing conductor!
QUINCY
QUINCY
Would he have a twenty-thousand-dollar job with me if he wasn't? Not that he'd get half that in the open market—only I have to stick it on to keep him for my guests exclusively.
Would he have a $20,000 job with me if he wasn't? Not that he'd get half that on the open market—it's just that I have to pay him to keep him for my guests only.
[Looks at watch.]
[Checks the time.]
But he ought to be here, confound him. A conductor should keep time, eh, Miss Revendal?
But he should be here, damn it. A conductor should keep time, right, Miss Revendal?
[He sniggers.]
He sblacks.
MENDEL
MENDEL
I'll bring David. Won't you help yourselves to tea?
I'll bring David. Why don't you help yourselves to some tea?
[To Vera]
[To Vera]
You see there's lemon for you—as in Russia.
You see, there's lemon for you—just like in Russia.
[Exit to kitchen—a moment afterwards the merry music stops in the middle of a bar.]
[Exit to kitchen—a moment later, the cheerful music stops abruptly in the middle of a bar.]
VERA
VERA
Thank you.
Thank you.
[Taking a cup.]
[Grabbing a cup.]
Do you like lemon, Mr. Davenport?
Do you like lemon, Mr. Davenport?
QUINCY [Flirtatiously]
QUINCY [Playfully]
That depends. The last I had was in Russia itself—from the fair hands of your mother, the Baroness.[Pg 64]
That depends. The last one I had was in Russia itself—from the skilled hands of your mother, the Baroness.[Pg 64]
VERA [Pained]
VERA [Suffering]
Please don't say my mother, my mother is dead.
Please don’t say my mom, my mom is gone.
QUINCY [Fatuously misunderstanding]
QUINCY [Completely misunderstanding]
Oh, you have no call to be ashamed of your step-mother—she's a stunning creature; all the points of a tip-top Russian aristocrat, or Quincy Davenport's no judge of breed! Doesn't speak English like your father—but then the Baron is a wonder.
Oh, you shouldn’t be ashamed of your step-mother—she's a beautiful woman; all the qualities of a top-notch Russian aristocrat, or Quincy Davenport doesn’t know anything about pedigree! She doesn’t speak English like your father—but then the Baron is something special.
VERA [Takes up teapot]
VERA [Picks up teapot]
Father once hoped to be British Ambassador—that's why I had an English governess. But you never told me you met him in Russia.
Father once hoped to be the British Ambassador—that's why I had an English governess. But you never told me you met him in Russia.
QUINCY
QUINCY
Surely! When I gave you all those love messages——
Sure! When I sent you all those love messages——
VERA [Pouring tea quickly]
VERA [Pouring tea fast]
You said you met him at Wiesbaden.
You said you met him in Wiesbaden.
QUINCY
QUINCY
Yes, but we grew such pals I motored him and the Baroness back to St. Petersburg. Jolly country, Russia—they know how to live.
Yes, but we became such good friends that I drove him and the Baroness back to St. Petersburg. What a wonderful country, Russia—they really know how to enjoy life.
VERA [Coldly]
VERA [With no emotion]
I saw more of those who know how to die.... Milk and sugar?
I saw more people who know how to die... Milk and sugar?
QUINCY [Sentimentally]
QUINCY [Feeling sentimental]
VERA [Politely snubbing]
VERA [Politely ignoring]
How should I remember?
How can I remember?
QUINCY
QUINCY
You don't remember our first meeting? At the Settlement Bazaar? When I paid you a hundred dollars for every piece of sugar you put in?
You don't remember our first meeting? At the Settlement Bazaar? When I gave you a hundred dollars for every piece of sugar you added?
VERA
VERA
Did you? Then I hope you drank syrup.
Did you? Then I hope you had some syrup.
QUINCY
QUINCY
Ugh! I hate sugar—I sacrificed myself.
Ugh! I hate sugar—I put myself through this.
VERA
VERA
To the Settlement? How heroic of you!
To the Settlement? How brave of you!
QUINCY
QUINCY
No, not to the Settlement. To you!
No, not to the Settlement. To you!
VERA
VERA
Then I'll only put milk in.
I'll just add milk then.
QUINCY
QUINCY
I hate milk. But from you——
I hate milk. But from you—
VERA
VERA
Then we must fall back on the lemon.
Then we have to fall back on the lemon.
QUINCY
QUINCY
VERA
VERA
Then you shall have your tea neat.
Then you can have your tea straight.
QUINCY
QUINCY
I detest tea, and here it would be particularly cheap and nasty. But——
I hate tea, and it would definitely be especially bad and low-quality here. But——
VERA
VERA
Then you shall have a cake!
Then you will have a cake!
[She offers plate.]
She offers a plate.
QUINCY [Taking one]
QUINCY [Grabbing one]
Would they be eatable?
Would they be edible?
[Tasting it.]
Tasting it.
Humph! Not bad.
Meh! Not bad.
[Sentimentally]
Sentimentally
A little cake was all you would eat the only time you came to one of my private concerts. Don't you remember? We went down to supper together.
A little cake was all you had the one time you came to one of my private concerts. Don't you remember? We went down to dinner together.
VERA [Taking his tea for herself and putting in lemon]
VERA [Taking his tea for herself and adding lemon]
I shall always remember the delicious music Herr Pappelmeister gave us.
I will always remember the amazing music Herr Pappelmeister shared with us.
QUINCY
QUINCY
How unkind of you!
That's so rude of you!
VERA
VERA
Unkind?
Mean?
[She sips the tea and puts down the cup.]
[i]She takes a sip of the tea and sets the cup down.[/i]
QUINCY
QUINCY
You know what I mean—to forget me!
You know what I mean—to forget me!
[He tries to take her hand.]
[i]He tries to hold her hand.[/i]
VERA [Rising]
VERA [On the Rise]
Aren't you forgetting yourself?
Aren't you forgetting who you are?
QUINCY
QUINCY
You mean because I'm married to that patched-and-painted creature? She's hankering for the stage again, the old witch.
You mean because I'm married to that made-up character? She's itching to get back on stage again, the old witch.
VERA
VERA
Hush! Marriages with comic opera stars are not usually domestic idylls.
Hush! Marriages with comic opera stars aren't typically peaceful domestic lives.
QUINCY
QUINCY
I fell a victim to my love of music.
I became a victim of my love for music.
VERA [Murmurs, smiling]
VERA [Whispers, smiling]
Music!
Music!
QUINCY
QUINCY
And I hadn't yet met the right breed—the true blue blood of Europe. I'll get a divorce.
And I still hadn't met the right kind—the real aristocracy of Europe. I’ll get a divorce.
[Approaching her]
[Walking up to her]
Vera!
Vera!
VERA [Retreating]
VERA [Backing off]
QUINCY
QUINCY
No, don't say that—promised the Baron I'd always do all I could for——
No, don't say that—I promised the Baron I’d always do everything I could for——
VERA
VERA
You promised? You dared discuss my affairs?
You promised? You actually talked about my business?
QUINCY
QUINCY
It was your father began it. When he found I knew you, he almost wept with emotion. He asked a hundred questions about your life in America.
It was your father who started it. When he found out I knew you, he almost cried from emotion. He asked a hundred questions about your life in America.
VERA
VERA
His life and mine are for ever separate. He is a Reactionary, I a Radical.
His life and mine are forever separate. He is a conservative, I am a progressive.
QUINCY
Quincy
But he loves you dreadfully—he can't understand why you should go slaving away summer and winter in a Settlement—you a member of the Russian nobility!
But he loves you so much—he can't understand why you would spend your time working hard, summer and winter, in a Settlement—you, a member of the Russian nobility!
VERA [With faint smile]
VERA [With a faint smile]
I might say, noblesse oblige. But the truth is, I earn my living that way. It would do you good to slave there too!
I might say, noblesse oblige. But honestly, that's how I make my living. It would benefit you to work hard there too!
QUINCY [Eagerly]
QUINCY [Excitedly]
Would they chain us together? I'd come to-morrow.
Would they chain us together? I’ll come tomorrow.
[Pg 69][He moves nearer her. There is a double knock at the door.]
[Pg 69][He steps closer to her. There’s a knock at the door, twice.]
VERA [Relieved]
VERA [Glad]
Here's Pappelmeister!
Here’s Pappelmeister!
QUINCY
QUINCY
Bother Poppy—why is he so darned punctual?
Bother Poppy—why is he so annoyingly punctual?
[Enter Kathleen from the kitchen.]
[Enter Kathleen from the kitchen.]
VERA [Smiling]
VERA [Smiling]
Ah, you're still here.
Oh, you're still here.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
And why would I not be here?
And why wouldn't I be here?
[She goes to open the door.]
[i]She goes to open the door.[/i]
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPERMASTER
Mr. Quixano?
Mr. Quixano?
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Yes, come in.
Sure, come in.
[Enter Herr Pappelmeister, a burly German figure with a leonine head, spectacles, and a mane of white hair—a figure that makes his employer look even coarser. He carries an umbrella, which he never lets go. He is at first grave and silent, which makes any burst of emotion the more striking. He and Quincy Davenport suggest a picture of "Dignity and Impudence." His English, as roughly indicated in the text, is extremely Teutonic.]
[Enter Mr. Pappelmeister, a stout German man with a lion-like head, glasses, and a flowing mane of white hair—a presence that makes his employer seem even more uncouth. He holds onto an umbrella at all times. Initially serious and quiet, his sudden outbursts of emotion are even more impactful. He and Quincy Davenport create a scene of "Dignity and Impudence." His English, as roughly reflected in the text, has a distinctly German flavor.]
QUINCY
QUINCY
You're late, Poppy!
You're late, Poppy!
VERA [Smilingly goes and offers her hand.]
VERA [Smiling, she goes and offers her hand.]
Proud to meet you, Herr Pappelmeister!
Pleased to meet you, Mr. Pappelmeister!
QUINCY
QUINCY
Excuse me——
Excuse me—
[Introducing]
[Welcome]
Miss Revendal!—I forgot you and Poppy hadn't been introduced—curiously enough it was at Wiesbaden I picked him up too—he was conducting the opera—your folks were in my box. I don't think I ever met anyone so mad on music as the Baron. And the Baroness told me he had retired from active service in the Army because of the torture of listening to the average military band. Ha! Ha! Ha!
Miss Revendal! I forgot that you and Poppy hadn't met yet—funny enough, I met him in Wiesbaden too—he was conducting the opera—your family was in my box. I don't think I've ever met anyone as obsessed with music as the Baron. And the Baroness mentioned that he retired from active duty in the Army because he couldn't stand the pain of listening to the average military band. Ha! Ha! Ha!
VERA
VERA
Yes, my father once hoped my music would comfort him.
Yes, my dad once hoped my music would comfort him.
[She smiles sadly.]
She smiles with sadness.
Poor father! But a soldier must bear defeat. Herr Pappelmeister, may I not give you some tea?
Poor father! But a soldier must endure defeat. Mr. Pappelmeister, can I get you some tea?
[She sits again at the table.]
[i]She sits again at the table.[/i]
QUINCY
QUINCY
Tea! Lager's more in Poppy's line.
Tea! Lager works better for Poppy.
[He chuckles.]
He laughs.
PAPPELMEISTER [Gravely]
PAPPELMEISTER [Seriously]
Bitte. Tea.
Please. Tea.
Lemon. Four lumps.... Nun, five!... Or six!
Lemon. Four chunks.... Nun, five!... Or six!
[She hands him the cup.]
She gives him the cup.
Danke.
Thanks.
[As he receives the cup, he utters an exclamation, for Kathleen after opening the door has lingered on, hunting around everywhere, and having finally crawled under the table has now brushed against his leg.]
[As he takes the cup, he exclaims, because Kathleen has lingered after opening the door, looking around everywhere, and finally crawling under the table, she has now brushed against his leg.]
VERA
VERA
What are you looking for?
What are you searching for?
KATHLEEN [Her head emerging]
KATHLEEN [Her head popping up]
My nose!
My nose!
[They are all startled and amused.]
[i]They are all surprised and entertained.[/i]
VERA
VERA
Your nose?
Your nostrils?
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
I forgot me nose!
I forgot my nose!
QUINCY
QUINCY
Well, follow your nose—and you'll find it. Ha! Ha! Ha!
Well, just follow your nose—and you'll discover it. Ha! Ha! Ha!
KATHLEEN [Pouncing on it]
KATHLEEN [Jumping on it]
Here it is!
Please provide the text you would like me to modernize.
[Picks it up near the armchair.]
[i]Picks it up near the armchair.[/i]
OMNES
OMNES
Oh![Pg 72]
Oh!
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Sure, it's gotten all dirthy.
Sure, it's gotten all dirty.
[She takes out a handkerchief and wipes the nose carefully.]
[i]She pulls out a tissue and gently wipes her nose.[/i]
QUINCY
QUINCY
But why do you want a nose like that?
But why do you want a nose like that?
KATHLEEN [Proudly]
KATHLEEN [Proud]
Bekaz we're Hebrews!
Because we're Hebrews!
QUINCY
QUINCY
What!
What!
VERA
VERA
What do you mean?
What do you mean?
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
It's our Carnival to-day! Purim.
It's our Carnival today! Purim.
[She carries her nose carefully and piously toward the kitchen.]
She walks carefully and respectfully toward the kitchen.
VERA
VERA
Oh! I see.
Oh! Got it.
[Exit Kathleen.]
[Exit Kathleen.]
QUINCY [In horror]
QUINCY [In shock]
Miss Revendal, you don't mean to say you've brought me to a Jew!
Miss Revendal, you can't be serious that you've brought me to a Jew!
VERA
VERA
I'm afraid I have. I was thinking only of his genius,[Pg 73] not his race. And you see, so many musicians are Jews.
I'm afraid I have. I was thinking only of his talent,[Pg 73] not his ethnicity. And you see, so many musicians are Jewish.
QUINCY
QUINCY
Not my musicians. No Jew's harp in my orchestra, eh?
Not my musicians. No Jew's harp in my orchestra, right?
[He sniggers.]
He slays.
I wouldn't have a Jew if he paid me.
I wouldn't want a Jew even if he paid me.
VERA
VERA
I daresay you have some, all the same.
I bet you have some, though.
QUINCY
QUINCY
Impossible. Poppy! Are there any Jews in my orchestra?
Impossible. Poppy! Are there any Jews in my orchestra?
PAPPELMEISTER [Removing the cup from his mouth and speaking with sepulchral solemnity]
PAPPELMEISTER [Taking the cup away from his mouth and speaking with grave seriousness]
Do you mean are dere any Christians?
Do you mean, are there any Christians?
QUINCY [In horror]
QUINCY [In shock]
Gee-rusalem! Perhaps you're a Jew!
Gee-rusalem! Maybe you're Jewish!
PAPPELMEISTER [Gravely]
PAPPELMEISTER [Seriously]
I haf not de honour. But, if you brefer, I will gut out from my brogrammes all de Chewish composers. Was?
I don't have the honor. But, if you prefer, I will remove all the Jewish composers from my programs. What?
QUINCY
QUINCY
Why, of course. Fire 'em out, every mother's son of 'em.[Pg 74]
Why, of course. Let’s get rid of them, every last one.[Pg 74]
PAPPELMEISTER [Unsmiling]
PAPPELMEISTER [Serious]
Also—no more comic operas!
Also—no more musical comedies!
QUINCY
QUINCY
What!!!
What!!!
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPER MASTER
Dey write all de comic operas!
They write all the comic operas!
QUINCY
QUINCY
Brute!
Brute!
[Pappelmeister's chuckle is heard gurgling in his cup. Re-enter Mendel from kitchen.]
[Pappelmaster's chuckle bubbles in his cup. Mendel re-enters from the kitchen.]
MENDEL [To Vera]
MENDEL [To Vera]
I'm so sorry—I can't get him to come in—he's terrible shy.
I'm really sorry—I can't get him to come in—he's super shy.
QUINCY
QUINCY
Won't face the music, eh?
Won't face the consequences, huh?
[He sniggers.]
He’s black.
VERA
VERA
Did you tell him I was here?
Did you tell him I was here?
MENDEL
MENDEL
Of course.
Of course.
VERA [Disappointed]
VERA [Let down]
Oh!
Oh!
MENDEL
MENDEL
But I've persuaded him to let me show his MS.[Pg 75]
But I've convinced him to let me show his manuscript.[Pg 75]
VERA [With forced satisfaction]
VERA [Reluctantly satisfied]
Oh, well, that's all we want.
Oh, well, that's all we want.
[Mendel goes to the desk, opens it, and gets the MS. and offers it to Quincy Davenport.]
[i]Mendel goes to the desk, opens it, and takes out the manuscript, then hands it to Quincy Davenport.]
QUINCY
QUINCY
Not for me—Poppy!
Not for me—Poppy!
[Mendel offers it to Pappelmeister, who takes it solemnly.]
[Mendel hands it to Papel Master, who accepts it with seriousness.]
MENDEL [Anxiously to Pappelmeister]
MENDEL [Anxiously to Pappelmeister]
Of course you must remember his youth and his lack of musical education——
Of course, you should keep in mind his young age and his limited musical training—
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPER MASTER
Bitte, das Pult!
Please, the podium!
[Mendel moves David's music-stand from the corner to the centre of the room. Pappelmeister puts MS. on it.]
[Mendel moves David's music stand from the corner to the center of the room. Papel Master places the manuscript on it.]
So!
So!
[All eyes centre on him eagerly, Mendel standing uneasily, the others sitting. Pappelmeister polishes his glasses with irritating elaborateness and weary "achs," then reads in absolute silence. A pause.]
Everyone's attention is on him, with Mendel standing awkwardly while the others sit. Papel Master cleans his glasses with annoying care and tired "achs," then reads in complete silence. A pause.
QUINCY [Bored by the silence]
QUINCY [Overwhelmed by the silence]
But won't you play it to us?
But won't you play it for us?
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPERMASTER
Blay it? Am I an orchestra? I blay it in my brain.
Blay it? Am I a conductor? I play it in my mind.
[Pg 76][He goes on reading, his brow gets wrinkled. He ruffles his hair unconsciously. All watch him anxiously—he turns the page.]
[Pg 76][He continues reading, his brow furrowing. He runs his fingers through his hair without thinking. Everyone watches him nervously—he flips the page.]
So!
So!
VERA [Anxiously]
VERA [Worried]
You don't seem to like it!
You don't seem to enjoy it!
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPPELMEISTER
I do not comprehend it.
I don’t get it.
MENDEL
MENDEL
I knew it was crazy—it is supposed to be about America or a Crucible or something. And of course there are heaps of mistakes.
I knew it was insane—it’s supposed to be about America or a Crucible or something. And of course, there are tons of mistakes.
VERA
VERA
That is why I am suggesting to Mr. Davenport to send him to Germany.
That's why I'm suggesting to Mr. Davenport that he sends him to Germany.
QUINCY
QUINCY
I'll send as many Jews as you like to Germany. Ha! Ha! Ha!
I'll send as many Jews as you want to Germany. Ha! Ha! Ha!
PAPPELMEISTER [Absorbed, turning pages]
PAPPELMEISTER [Engrossed, flipping through pages]
Ach!—ach!—So!
Ugh!—ugh!—Got it!
QUINCY
QUINCY
I'd even lend my own yacht to take 'em back. Ha! Ha! Ha!
I'd even lend my own yacht to take them back. Ha! Ha! Ha!
VERA
VERA
QUINCY
QUINCY
Oh, Poppy's all right.
Oh, Poppy's good.
PAPPELMEISTER [Sublimely unconscious]
PAPPELMEISTER [Utterly unaware]
Ach so—so—SO! Das ist etwas neues!
Oh, I see—so—SO! That's something new!
[His umbrella begins to beat time, moving more and more vigorously, till at last he is conducting elaborately, stretching out his left palm for pianissimo passages, and raising it vigorously for forte, with every now and then an exclamation.]
[i]His umbrella starts to keep rhythm, moving more and more energetically, until he is fully conducting, extending his left hand for soft parts, and lifting it energetically for loud sections, occasionally letting out an exclamation.[/i]
Wunderschön!... pianissimo!—now the flutes! Clarinets! Ach, ergötzlich ... bassoons and drums!... Fortissimo!... Kolossal! Kolossal!
Beautiful!... very soft!—now the flutes! Clarinets! Oh, delightful ... bassoons and drums!... Very loud!... Huge! Huge!
[Conducting in a fury of enthusiasm.]
Leading with strong enthusiasm.
VERA [Clapping her hands]
VERA [Applauding]
Bravo! Bravo! I'm so excited!
Yay! Yay! I'm so excited!
QUINCY [Yawning]
QUINCY [Yawning]
Then it isn't bad, Poppy?
So it's not bad, Poppy?
PAPPELMEISTER [Not listening, never ceasing to conduct]
PAPPELMEISTER [Not paying attention, always continuing to conduct]
Und de harp solo ... ach, reizend! ... Second violins——!
And the harp solo ... oh, delightful! ... Second violins——!
QUINCY
QUINCY
But Poppy! We can't be here all day.
But Poppy! We can't stay here all day.
PAPPELMEISTER [Not listening, continuing pantomime action]
PAPPELMEISTER [Not paying attention, still acting out the pantomime]
QUINCY [Outraged]
QUINCY [Furious]
Sh to me!
Sh to me!
[Rises.]
[Gets up.]
VERA
VERA
He doesn't know it's you.
He doesn't know it's you.
QUINCY
QUINCY
But look here, Poppy——
But check this out, Poppy——
[He seizes the wildly-moving umbrella. Blank stare of Pappelmeister gradually returning to consciousness.]
He grabs the flailing umbrella. The blank expression on Papel Master slowly starts to show signs of awareness.
PAPPELMEISTER
Papel Master
Was giebt's...?
What's going on...?
QUINCY
QUINCY
We've had enough.
We’ve had enough.
PAPPELMEISTER [Indignant]
PAPPELMEISTER [Upset]
Enough? Enough? Of such a beaudiful symphony?
Enough? Enough? Of such a beautiful symphony?
QUINCY
QUINCY
It may be beautiful to you, but to us it's damn dull. See here, Poppy, if you're satisfied that the young fellow has sufficient talent to be sent to study in Germany——
It might be beautiful to you, but to us it's really boring. Look, Poppy, if you're convinced that the young guy has enough talent to go study in Germany——
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPER MASTER
In Germany! Germany has nodings to teach him, he has to teach Germany.[Pg 79]
In Germany! Germany has nothing to teach him; he has to teach Germany.[Pg 79]
VERA
VERA
Bravo!
Great job!
[She springs up.]
She jumps up.
MENDEL
MENDEL
I always said he was a genius!
I’ve always said he’s a genius!
QUINCY
QUINCY
Well, at that rate you could put this stuff of his in one of my programmes. Sinfonia Americana, eh?
Well, at that pace you could include his stuff in one of my programs. Sinfonia Americana, right?
VERA
VERA
Oh, that is good of you.
Oh, that's really nice of you.
PAPPELMEISTER
Papel Master
I should be broud to indroduce it to de vorld.
I should be proud to introduce it to the world.
VERA
VERA
And will it be played in that wonderful marble music-room overlooking the Hudson?
And will it be played in that beautiful marble music room with a view of the Hudson?
QUINCY
QUINCY
Sure. Before five hundred of the smartest folk in America.
Sure. In front of five hundred of the smartest people in America.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Oh, thank you, thank you. That will mean fame!
Oh, thank you, thank you. That will mean fame!
QUINCY
QUINCY
MENDEL
MENDEL
I'll run and tell him.
I'll go tell him.
[He hastens into the kitchen, Pappelmeister is re-absorbed in the MS., but no longer conducting.]
He rushes into the kitchen, Papelmaster is back into the manuscript, but no longer directing.
QUINCY
QUINCY
You see, I'll help even a Jew for your sake.
You see, I'll help even someone Jewish for your sake.
VERA
VERA
Hush!
Be quiet!
[Indicating Pappelmeister.]
[Indicating Paper Master.]
QUINCY
QUINCY
Oh, Poppy's in the moon.
Oh, Poppy's in the zone.
VERA
VERA
You must help him for his own sake, for art's sake.
You need to help him for his own good, for the sake of art.
QUINCY
QUINCY
And why not for heart's sake—for my sake?
And why not for love's sake—for my sake?
[He comes nearer.]
He approaches.
VERA [Crossing to Pappelmeister]
VERA [Crossing to Pappelmeister]
Herr Pappelmeister! When do you think you can produce it?
Mr. Pappelmeister! When do you think you'll be able to finish it?
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPERMASTER
Wunderbar!...
Awesome!...
[Becoming half-conscious of Vera]
[Becoming semi-aware of Vera]
Four lumps....
Four lumps...
[Waking up]
Getting up
VERA
VERA
How soon can you produce it?
How soon can you have it ready?
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPER MASTER
How soon can he finish it?
How soon can he get it done?
VERA
VERA
Isn't it finished?
Isn't it done?
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPERMASTER
I see von Finale scratched out and anoder not quite completed. But anyhow, ve couldn't broduce it before Saturday fortnight.
I see von Finale crossed out and another one not quite finished. But anyway, we couldn't produce it before Saturday two weeks from now.
QUINCY
QUINCY
Saturday fortnight! Not time to get my crowd.
Saturday in two weeks! Not enough time to gather my people.
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPERMASTER
Den ve say Saturday dree veeks. Yes?
Den ve say Saturday dree weeks. Yes?
QUINCY
QUINCY
Yes. Stop a minute! Did you say Saturday? That's my comic opera night! You thief!
Yes. Hold on a minute! Did you say Saturday? That's my night for comic opera! You thief!
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPPELMEISTER
Somedings must be sagrificed.
Some things must be sacrificed.
MENDEL [Outside]
MENDEL [Outside]
But you must come, David.
But you have to come, David.
[Pg 82][The kitchen door opens, and Mendel drags in the boyishly shrinking David. Pappelmeister thumps with his umbrella, Vera claps her hands, Quincy Davenport produces his eyeglass and surveys David curiously.]
[Pg 82][The kitchen door swings open, and Mendel drags in the increasingly boyish David. Papel master pounds his umbrella on the ground, Vera claps her hands, and Quincy Davenport puts on his eyeglasses to examine David with curiosity.]
VERA
VERA
Oh, Mr. Quixano, I am so glad! Mr. Davenport is going to produce your symphony in his wonderful music-room.
Oh, Mr. Quixano, I’m so happy! Mr. Davenport is going to perform your symphony in his amazing music room.
QUINCY
QUINCY
Yes, young man, I'm going to give you the smartest audience in America. And if Poppy is right, you're just going to rake in the dollars. America wants a composer.
Yes, young man, I'm going to give you the smartest audience in America. And if Poppy is right, you're about to make a lot of money. America wants a composer.
PAPPELMEISTER [Raises hands emphatically.]
PAPPELMEISTER [Raises hands dramatically.]
Ach Gott, ja!
Oh God, yes!
VERA [To David]
VERA [To David]
Why don't you speak? You're not angry with me for interfering——?
Why aren't you saying anything? Are you mad at me for getting involved?
DAVID
DAVID
I can never be grateful enough to you——
I can never thank you enough——
VERA
VERA
Oh, not to me. It is to Mr. Davenport you——
Oh, not to me. It's to Mr. Davenport you——
DAVID
DAVID
And I can never be grateful enough to Herr Pappelmeister. It is an honour even to meet him.
And I can never be thankful enough to Mr. Pappelmeister. It's an honor just to meet him.
[Pg 83][Bows.]
[Bows.]
PAPPELMEISTER [Choking with emotion, goes and pats him on the back.]
PAPPELMEISTER [Overcome with emotion, walks over and gives him a pat on the back.]
Mein braver Junge!
My brave boy!
VERA [Anxiously]
VERA [Nervously]
But it is Mr. Davenport——
But it's Mr. Davenport—
DAVID
DAVID
Before I accept Mr. Davenport's kindness, I must know to whom I am indebted—and if Mr. Davenport is the man who——
Before I accept Mr. Davenport's kindness, I need to know who I owe it to—and if Mr. Davenport is the person who——
QUINCY
QUINCY
Who travelled with you to New York? Ha! Ha! Ha! No, I'm only the junior.
Who went with you to New York? Ha! Ha! Ha! No, I'm just the junior.
DAVID
DAVID
Oh, I know, sir, you don't make the money you spend.
Oh, I get it, sir, you don't earn the money you spend.
QUINCY
QUINCY
Eh?
Huh?
VERA [Anxiously]
VERA [Stressed]
He means he knows you're not in business.
He means he knows you’re not running a business.
DAVID
DAVID
Yes, sir; but is it true you are in pleasure?
Yes, sir; but is it true that you are having fun?
QUINCY [Puzzled]
QUINCY [Confused]
I beg your pardon?[Pg 84]
Excuse me?
DAVID
DAVID
Are all the stories the papers print about you true?
Are all the stories the newspapers print about you true?
QUINCY
QUINCY
All the stories. That's a tall order. Ha! Ha! Ha!
All the stories. That's a big ask. Haha!
DAVID
DAVID
Well, anyhow, is it true that——?
Well, anyway, is it true that——?
VERA
VERA
Mr. Quixano! What are you driving at?
Mr. Quixano! What are you aiming for?
QUINCY
QUINCY
Oh, it's rather fun to hear what the masses read about me. Fire ahead. Is what true?
Oh, it’s pretty entertaining to hear what everyone is saying about me. Go ahead. What’s true?
DAVID
DAVID
That you were married in a balloon?
That you got married in a balloon?
QUINCY
QUINCY
Ho! Ha! Ha! That's true enough. Marriage in high life, they said, didn't they? Ha! Ha! Ha!
Ho! Ha! Ha! That's totally true. They used to say that marriage in high society, right? Ha! Ha! Ha!
DAVID
DAVID
And is it true you live in America only two months in the year, and then only to entertain Europeans who wander to these wild parts?
And is it true you only live in America for two months each year, and then just to entertain Europeans who come to these wild areas?
QUINCY
QUINCY
Lucky for you, young man. You'll have an Italian prince and a British duke to hear your scribblings.[Pg 85]
Lucky for you, young man. You'll have an Italian prince and a British duke to listen to your writings.[Pg 85]
DAVID
DAVID
And the palace where they will hear my scribblings—is it true that——?
And the palace where they will hear my writings—is it true that——?
VERA [Who has been on pins and needles]
VERA [Who has been on edge]
Mr. Quixano, what possible——?
Mr. Quixano, what could——?
DAVID [Entreatingly holds up a hand.]
DAVID [Holds up a hand in a pleading manner.]
Miss Revendal!
Ms. Revendal!
[To Quincy Davenport]
[To Quincy Davenport]
Is this palace the same whose grounds were turned into Venetian canals where the guests ate in gondolas—gondolas that were draped with the most wonderful trailing silks in imitation of the Venetian nobility in the great water fêtes?
Is this palace the same one whose grounds were turned into Venetian canals where guests dined in gondolas—gondolas draped with the most beautiful flowing silks, mimicking the Venetian nobility at the grand water festivals?
QUINCY [Turns to Vera]
QUINCY [Looks at Vera]
Ah, Miss Revendal—what a pity you refused that invitation! It was a fairy scene of twinkling lights and delicious darkness—each couple had their own gondola to sup in, and their own side-canal to slip down. Eh? Ha! Ha! Ha!
Ah, Miss Revendal—what a shame you turned down that invitation! It was a magical setting of sparkling lights and cozy shadows—each couple had their own gondola to dine in, and their own side-canal to drift down. Right? Ha! Ha! Ha!
DAVID
DAVID
And the same night, women and children died of hunger in New York!
And that same night, women and children starved in New York!
QUINCY [Startled, drops eyeglass.]
QUINCY [Startled, drops glasses.]
Eh?
Huh?
DAVID [Furiously]
DAVID [Angrily]
And this is the sort of people you would invite to hear my symphony—these gondola-guzzlers![Pg 86]
And these are the kind of people you would invite to listen to my symphony—these gondola-drinkers![Pg 86]
VERA
VERA
Mr. Quixano!
Mr. Quixano!
MENDEL
MENDEL
David!
David!
DAVID
DAVID
These magnificent animals who went into the gondolas two by two, to feed and flirt!
These amazing animals that entered the gondolas two by two, to eat and socialize!
QUINCY [Dazed]
QUINCY [Confused]
Sir!
Dude!
DAVID
DAVID
I should be a new freak for you for a new freak evening—I and my dreams and my music!
I should be a new weirdo for you on this new freaky night—I and my dreams and my music!
QUINCY
QUINCY
You low-down, ungrateful——
You low-down, ungrateful jerk——
DAVID
DAVID
Not for you and such as you have I sat here writing and dreaming; not for you who are killing my America!
Not for you and people like you have I sat here writing and dreaming; not for you who are destroying my America!
QUINCY
QUINCY
Your America, forsooth, you Jew-immigrant!
Your America, indeed, you Jew-immigrant!
VERA
VERA
Mr. Davenport!
Mr. Davenport!
DAVID
DAVID
Yes—Jew-immigrant! But a Jew who knows that[Pg 87] your Pilgrim Fathers came straight out of his Old Testament, and that our Jew-immigrants are a greater factor in the glory of this great commonwealth than some of you sons of the soil. It is you, freak-fashionables, who are undoing the work of Washington and Lincoln, vulgarising your high heritage, and turning the last and noblest hope of humanity into a caricature.
Yes—Jew immigrant! But a Jew who knows that[Pg 87] your Pilgrim Fathers came straight out of his Old Testament, and that our Jew immigrants are a bigger part of the glory of this great commonwealth than some of you natives. It’s you, trend-followers, who are undoing the work of Washington and Lincoln, cheapening your proud heritage, and turning the last and greatest hope of humanity into a joke.
QUINCY [Rocking with laughter]
QUINCY [Laughing hard]
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ho! Ho! Ho!
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ho! Ho! Ho!
[To Vera.]
To Vera.
You never told me your Jew-scribbler was a socialist!
You never mentioned that your Jewish writer was a socialist!
DAVID
DAVID
I am nothing but a simple artist, but I come from Europe, one of her victims, and I know that she is a failure; that her palaces and peerages are outworn toys of the human spirit, and that the only hope of mankind lies in a new world. And here—in the land of to-morrow—you are trying to bring back Europe——
I’m just a simple artist, but I come from Europe, one of her victims, and I know that she’s a failure; her palaces and titles are outdated toys of the human spirit, and the only hope for humanity lies in a new world. And here—in the land of tomorrow—you’re trying to bring back Europe—
QUINCY [Interjecting]
QUINCY [Interrupting]
I wish we could!——
I wish we could!
DAVID
DAVID
Europe with her comic-opera coronets and her worm-eaten stage decorations, and her pomp and chivalry built on a morass of crime and misery——
Europe with her silly royal crowns and her rundown stage decorations, and her showy displays of chivalry resting on a foundation of crime and suffering——
QUINCY [With sneering laugh]
QUINCY [With a mocking laugh]
Morass![Pg 88]
Morass!
DAVID [With prophetic passion]
DAVID [With prophetic fervor]
But you shall not kill my dream! There shall come a fire round the Crucible that will melt you and your breed like wax in a blowpipe——
But you won't kill my dream! A fire will come around the Crucible that will melt you and your kind like wax in a blowtorch—
QUINCY [Furiously, with clenched fist]
QUINCY [Angrily, with clenched fist]
You——
You—
DAVID
DAVID
America shall make good...!
America will make good...!
PAPPELMEISTER [Who has sat down and remained imperturbably seated throughout all this scene, springs up and waves his umbrella hysterically]
PAPPELMEISTER [Who has sat down and stayed completely calm throughout this whole scene, jumps up and waves his umbrella frantically]
Hoch Quixano! Hoch! Hoch! Es lebe Quixano! Hoch!
Cheers to Quixano! Cheers! Cheers! Long live Quixano! Cheers!
QUINCY
QUINCY
Poppy! You're dismissed!
Poppy! You're free to go!
PAPPELMEISTER [Goes to David with outstretched hand]
PAPPELMEISTER [Goes to David with an outstretched hand]
Danke.
Thanks.
[They grip hands. Pappelmeister turns to Quincy Davenport.]
They hold hands. Pappelmeister turns to Quincy Davenport.
Comic Opera! Ouf!
Comic Opera! Oof!
QUINCY [Goes to street-door, at white heat.]
QUINCY [Goes to the front door, extremely agitated.]
Are you coming, Miss Revendal?
Are you coming, Miss Revendal?
[He opens the door.]
He opens the door.
VERA [To Quincy, but not moving]
VERA [To Quincy, but staying still]
Pray, pray, accept my apologies—believe me, if I had known—[Pg 89]—
Pray, pray, accept my apologies—believe me, if I had known—[Pg 89]—
QUINCY [Furiously]
QUINCY [Angrily]
Then stop with your Jew!
Then stop with your Jewish!
[Exit.]
[Leave.]
MENDEL [Frantically]
MENDEL [In a panic]
But, Mr. Davenport—don't go! He is only a boy.
But, Mr. Davenport—please don’t go! He’s just a kid.
[Exit after Quincy Davenport.]
[Exit after Quincy Davenport.]
You must consider——
You need to consider—
DAVID
DAVID
Oh, Herr Pappelmeister, you have lost your place!
Oh, Mr. Pappelmeister, you've lost your position!
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPERMASTER
And saved my soul. Dollars are de devil. Now I must to an appointment. Auf baldiges Wiedersehen.
And saved my soul. Money is the devil. Now I have to go to a meeting. See you soon.
[He shakes David's hand.]
He shakes David's hand.
Fräulein Revendal!
Ms. Revendal!
[He takes her hand and kisses it. Exit. David and Vera stand gazing at each other.]
[i]He takes her hand and kisses it. Exit. David and Vera stand gazing at each other.[/i]
VERA
VERA
What have you done? What have you done?
What did you do? What did you do?
DAVID
DAVID
What else could I do?
What else can I do?
VERA
VERA
I hate the smart set as much as you—but as your ladder and your trumpet——
I dislike the smart crowd just as much as you do—but as your ladder and your trumpet——
DAVID
DAVID
I would not stand indebted to them. I know you[Pg 90] meant it for my good, but what would these Europe-apers have understood of my America—the America of my music? They look back on Europe as a pleasure ground, a palace of art—but I know
I wouldn't want to owe them anything. I know you meant it for my benefit, but what would these European-types understand about my America—the America of my music? They see Europe as a place of enjoyment, a palace of art—but I know
[Getting hysterical]
Panicking
it is sodden with blood, red with bestial massacres——
it is soaked with blood, stained red from brutal massacres——
VERA [Alarmed, anxious]
VERA [Worried, nervous]
Let us talk no more about it.
Let's drop the subject.
[She holds out her hand.]
She extends her hand.
Good-bye.
Goodbye.
DAVID [Frozen, taking it, holding it]
DAVID [Frozen, taking it, holding it]
Ah, you are offended by my ingratitude—I shall never see you again.
Ah, you're upset by my ingratitude—I won't see you again.
VERA
VERA
No, I am not offended. But I have failed to help you. We have nothing else to meet for.
No, I'm not offended. But I haven't been able to help you. There's no reason for us to meet anymore.
[She disengages her hand.]
She lets go of her hand.
DAVID
DAVID
Why will you punish me so? I have only hurt myself.
Why are you going to punish me like this? I've only hurt myself.
VERA
VERA
It is not a punishment.
It's not a punishment.
DAVID
DAVID
What else? When you are with me, all the air seems to tremble with fairy music played by some unseen fairy orchestra.[Pg 91]
What else? When I'm with you, the air feels like it’s alive with magical music from some invisible fairy orchestra.[Pg 91]
VERA [Tremulous]
VERA [Trembling]
And yet you wouldn't come in just now when I——
And yet you wouldn't come in just now when I——
DAVID
DAVID
I was too frightened of the others....
I was too scared of the others....
VERA [Smiling]
VERA [Smiling]
Frightened indeed!
Scared for sure!
DAVID
DAVID
Yes, I know I became overbold—but to take all that magic sweetness out of my life for ever—you don't call that a punishment?
Yes, I know I got too bold—but stripping all that magic sweetness out of my life for good—you really don't think that's a punishment?
VERA [Blushing]
VERA [Feeling shy]
How could I wish to punish you? I was proud of you!
How could I want to punish you? I was proud of you!
[Drops her eyes, murmurs]
[drops her gaze, whispers]
Besides it would be punishing myself.
Besides, it would be punishing __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.
DAVID [In passionate amaze]
DAVID [In awe]
Miss Revendal!... But no, it cannot be. It is too impossible.
Miss Revendal!... But no, it can't be. It's too impossible.
VERA [Frightened]
VERA [Scared]
Yes, too impossible. Good-bye.
Yes, too impossible. Goodbye.
[She turns.]
She turns.
DAVID
DAVID
But not for always?
But not forever?
[Pg 92][Vera hangs her head. He comes nearer. Passionately]
[Pg 92][Vera lowers her gaze. He approaches her. With intense emotion]
Promise me that you—that I——
Promise me that you—I——
[He takes her hand again.]
He grabs her hand again.
VERA [Melting at his touch, breathes]
VERA [Melting at his touch, breathes]
Yes, yes, David.
Yeah, yeah, David.
DAVID
DAVID
Miss Revendal!
Ms. Revendal!
[She falls into his arms.]
She collapses into his arms.
VERA
VERA
My dear! my dear!
My dear! My dear!
DAVID
DAVID
It is a dream. You cannot care for me—you so far above me.
It’s a dream. You can’t care about me—you’re so far above me.
VERA
VERA
Above you, you simple boy? Your genius lifts you to the stars.
Above you, you simple boy? Your brilliance elevates you to the stars.
DAVID
DAVID
No, no; it is you who lift me there——
No, no; it’s you who lift me up there——
VERA [Smoothing his hair]
VERA [Combing his hair]
Oh, David. And to think that I was brought up to despise your race.
Oh, David. And to think I was raised to hate your people.
DAVID [Sadly]
DAVID [Unfortunately]
Yes, all Russians are.[Pg 93]
Yes, all Russians are.
VERA
VERA
But we of the nobility in particular.
But we, the nobility, in particular.
DAVID [Amazed, half-releasing her]
DAVID [In awe, half-releasing her]
You are noble?
Are you noble?
VERA
VERA
My father is Baron Revendal, but I have long since carved out a life of my own.
My dad is Baron Revendal, but I've created my own life a long time ago.
DAVID
DAVID
Then he will not separate us?
So he won't separate us?
VERA
VERA
No.
No.
[Re-embracing him.]
[Embracing him again.]
Nothing can separate us.
Nothing can tear us apart.
[A knock at the street-door. They separate. The automobile is heard clattering off.]
[A knock at the front door. They move apart. The sound of the car can be heard driving away.]
DAVID
DAVID
It is my uncle coming back.
It's my uncle coming back.
VERA [In low, tense tones]
VERA [In quiet, tense tones]
Then I shall slip out. I could not bear a third. I will write.
Then I'll sneak out. I can't handle a third. I'll write.
[She goes to the door.]
She walks to the door.
DAVID
DAVID
Yes, yes ... Vera.
Yeah, yeah ... Vera.
[Pg 94][He follows her to the door. He opens it and she slips out.]
[Pg 94][He walks her to the door. He opens it and she steps outside.]
MENDEL [Half-seen at the door, expostulating]
MENDEL [Partially visible at the door, arguing]
You, too, Miss Revendal——?
You, too, Miss Revendal?
[Re-enters.]
[Enters again.]
Oh, David, you have driven away all your friends.
Oh, David, you've pushed away all your friends.
DAVID [Going to window and looking after Vera]
DAVID [Going to the window and watching Vera]
Not all, uncle. Not all.
Not everyone, uncle. Not everyone.
[He throws his arms boyishly round his uncle.]
He wraps his arms around his uncle in a playful, boyish way.
I am so happy.
I’m so happy.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Happy?
Happy?
DAVID
DAVID
She loves me—Vera loves me.
She loves me—Vera loves me.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Vera?
Vera?
DAVID
DAVID
Miss Revendal.
Ms. Revendal.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Have you lost your wits?
Have you lost your mind?
[He throws David off.]
He throws David off.
DAVID
DAVID
I don't wonder you're amazed. Maybe you think I wasn't. It is as if an angel should stoop down——
I can see why you're surprised. Maybe you think I wasn't. It's like an angel should come down——
MENDEL [Hoarsely]
MENDEL [Raspy]
This is true? This is not some stupid Purim joke?[Pg 95]
This is true? This isn't some dumb Purim joke?[Pg 95]
DAVID
DAVID
True and sacred as the sunrise.
True and sacred like the sunrise.
MENDEL
MENDEL
But you are a Jew!
But you're Jewish!
DAVID
DAVID
Yes, and just think! She was bred up to despise Jews—her father was a Russian baron——
Yes, and just think! She was raised to look down on Jews—her father was a Russian baron—
MENDEL
MENDEL
If she was the daughter of fifty barons, you cannot marry her.
If she were the daughter of fifty barons, you still couldn't marry her.
DAVID [In pained amaze]
DAVID [In shocked disbelief]
Uncle!
Uncle!
[Slowly]
Slowly
Then your hankering after the synagogue was serious after all.
Then your longing for the synagogue was genuine after all.
MENDEL
MENDEL
It is not so much the synagogue—it is the call of our blood through immemorial generations.
It’s not really about the synagogue—it’s the call of our ancestors through countless generations.
DAVID
DAVID
You say that! You who have come to the heart of the Crucible, where the roaring fires of God are fusing our race with all the others.
You say that! You who have come to the core of the Crucible, where the blazing fires of God are merging our race with all the others.
MENDEL [Passionately]
MENDEL [With Intensity]
DAVID
DAVID
What immunity has our race?
What immunity does our race have?
[Meditatively]
[Mindfully]
The pride and the prejudice, the dreams and the sacrifices, the traditions and the superstitions, the fasts and the feasts, things noble and things sordid—they must all into the Crucible.
The pride and the prejudice, the dreams and the sacrifices, the traditions and the superstitions, the fasts and the feasts, noble things and sordid things—they all must go into the Crucible.
MENDEL [With prophetic fury]
MENDEL [With intense foresight]
The Jew has been tried in a thousand fires and only tempered and annealed.
The Jew has been tested in countless situations and has only become stronger and more resilient.
DAVID
DAVID
Fires of hate, not fires of love. That is what melts.
Fires of hate, not fires of love. That is what melts.
MENDEL [Sneeringly]
MENDEL [Mockingly]
So I see.
Got it.
DAVID
DAVID
Your sneer is false. The love that melted me was not Vera's—it was the love America showed me—the day she gathered me to her breast.
Your sneer isn't genuine. The love that melted me wasn't Vera's—it was the love America showed me—the day she pulled me in close.
MENDEL [Speaking passionately and rapidly]
MENDEL [Speaking passionately and quickly]
Many countries have gathered us. Holland took us when we were driven from Spain—but we did not become Dutchmen. Turkey took us when Germany oppressed us, but we have not become Turks.
Many countries have welcomed us. Holland took us in when we were forced out of Spain—but we didn't become Dutch. Turkey took us in when Germany persecuted us, but we haven't become Turks.
DAVID
DAVID
These countries were not in the making. They were[Pg 97] old civilisations stamped with the seal of creed. In such countries the Jew may be right to stand out. But here in this new secular Republic we must look forward——
These countries weren’t just emerging; they were[Pg 97] ancient civilizations marked by their beliefs. In those places, it makes sense for the Jew to stand out. But here in this new secular Republic, we need to look ahead——
MENDEL [Passionately interrupting]
MENDEL [Interrupting enthusiastically]
We must look backwards, too.
We also need to look back.
DAVID [Hysterically]
DAVID [Laughing uncontrollably]
To what? To Kishineff?
To where? To Kishineff?
[As if seeing his vision]
[Like witnessing his vision]
To that butcher's face directing the slaughter? To those——?
To that butcher's face overseeing the slaughter? To those——?
MENDEL [Alarmed]
MENDEL [Worried]
Hush! Calm yourself!
Shh! Relax!
DAVID [Struggling with himself]
DAVID [Battling with himself]
Yes, I will calm myself—but how else shall I calm myself save by forgetting all that nightmare of religions and races, save by holding out my hands with prayer and music toward the Republic of Man and the Kingdom of God! The Past I cannot mend—its evil outlines are stamped in immortal rigidity. Take away the hope that I can mend the Future, and you make me mad.
Yes, I will calm myself—but how else can I find peace except by forgetting all that terrible history of religions and races, except by reaching out with prayer and music toward the Republic of Humanity and the Kingdom of God! I can’t change the Past—its dark shapes are fixed in unchangeable severity. Take away the hope that I can change the Future, and you drive me crazy.
MENDEL
MENDEL
You are mad already—your dreams are mad—the Jew is hated here as everywhere—you are false to your race.[Pg 98]
You’re already crazy—your dreams are crazy—the Jew is hated here like everywhere else—you’re betraying your own people.[Pg 98]
DAVID
DAVID
I keep faith with America. I have faith America will keep faith with us.
I believe in America. I trust that America will believe in us.
[He raises his hands in religious rapture toward the flag over the door.]
He raises his hands in religious excitement toward the flag over the door.
Flag of our great Republic, guardian of our homes, whose stars and——
Flag of our great Republic, protector of our homes, with its stars and——
MENDEL
MENDEL
Spare me that rigmarole. Go out and marry your Gentile and be happy.
Spare me the nonsense. Go out and marry your non-Jewish partner and be happy.
DAVID
DAVID
You turn me out?
You kicking me out?
MENDEL
MENDEL
Would you stay and break my mother's heart? You know she would mourn for you with the rending of garments and the seven days' sitting on the floor. Go! You have cast off the God of our fathers!
Would you stay and break my mother's heart? You know she would grieve for you by tearing her clothes and sitting on the floor for a week. Go! You have rejected the God of our ancestors!
DAVID [Thundrously]
DAVID [With great intensity]
And the God of our children—does He demand no service?
And the God of our children—does He expect no service?
[Quieter, coming toward his uncle and touching him affectionately on the shoulder.]
[He approached his uncle quietly, affectionately touching him on the shoulder.]
You are right—I do need a wider world.
You’re right—I really do need a bigger world.
[Expands his lungs.]
[Takes a deep breath.]
I must go away.
I need to leave.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Go, then—I'll hide the truth—she must never suspect—lest she mourn you as dead.[Pg 99]
Go ahead—I'll keep the truth hidden—she must never find out—otherwise, she'll grieve for you as if you were dead.[Pg 99]
FRAU QUIXANO [Outside, in the kitchen]
FRAU QUIXANO [Outside, in the kitchen]
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
[Both men turn toward the kitchen and listen.]
Both men turn toward the kitchen and listen.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
FRAU QUIXANO AND KATHLEEN
Frau Quixano and Kathleen
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
MENDEL [Bitterly]
MENDEL [Seriously]
A merry Purim!
Happy Purim!
[The kitchen door opens and remains ajar. Frau Quixano rushes in, carrying David's violin and bow. Kathleen looks in, grinning.]
[The kitchen door opens and stays slightly open. Mrs. Quixano hurries in, holding David's violin and bow. Kathleen peeks in, smiling.]
FRAU QUIXANO [Hilariously]
Ms. Quixano [Hilariously]
Nu spiel noch! spiel!
Play again! Play!
[She holds the violin and bow appealingly toward David.]
[i>She holds the violin and bow attractively toward David.]
MENDEL [Putting out a protesting hand]
MENDEL [Putting out a hand in protest]
No, no, David—I couldn't bear it.
No, no, David—I just couldn't handle it.
DAVID
DAVID
But I must! You said she mustn't suspect.
But I have to! You said she shouldn't suspect.
[He looks lovingly at her as he loudly utters these words, which are unintelligible to her.]
[He looks at her with affection as he says these words aloud, which she can't understand.]
And it may be the last time I shall ever play for her.
And it might be the last time I ever play for her.
[Changing to a mock merry smile as he takes the violin and bow from her]
[Switching to a feigned cheerful smile as he takes the violin and bow from her]
Gewiss, Granny!
Sure thing, Granny!
FRAU QUIXANO [Childishly pleased]
MRS. QUIXANO [Childishly pleased]
He! He! He!
He! He! He!
[She claps on a false grotesque nose from her pocket.]
She puts on a fake, funny nose from her pocket.
DAVID [Torn between laughter and tears]
DAVID [Caught between laughter and tears]
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
MENDEL [Shocked]
MENDEL [Stunned]
Mutter!
Mutter!
FRAU QUIXANO
MRS. QUIXANO
Un' du auch!
Did you too?
[She claps another false nose on Mendel, laughing in childish glee at the effect. Then she starts dancing to the music, and Kathleen slips in and joyously dances beside her.]
She puts another fake nose on Mendel, laughing with childlike joy at how it looks. Then she starts dancing to the music, and Kathleen joins her and joyfully dances next to her.
DAVID [Joining tearfully in the laughter]
DAVID [Joining in the laughter with tears in his eyes]
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
[The curtain falls quickly. It rises again upon the picture of Frau Quixano fallen back into a chair, exhausted with laughter, fanning herself with her apron, while Kathleen has dropped breathless across the arm of the armchair; David is still playing on, and Mendel, his false nose torn off, stands by, glowering. The curtain falls again and rises upon a final tableau of David in his cloak and hat, stealing out of the door with his violin, casting a sad farewell glance at the old woman and at the home which has [Pg 101]sheltered him.]
The curtain drops quickly. It rises again to show Ms. Quixano slumped back in a chair, out of breath from laughing, fanning herself with her apron, while Kathleen is sprawled breathlessly across the arm of the chair; David keeps playing, and Mendel, with his false nose ripped off, stands nearby, fuming. The curtain falls again and rises to reveal a final scene of David in his cloak and hat, quietly slipping out the door with his violin, casting a sorrowful farewell glance at the old woman and the home that has [Pg 101] sheltered him.
Act III
April, about a month later. The scene changes to Miss Revendal's sitting-room at the Settlement House on a sunny day. Simple, pretty furniture: a sofa, chairs, small table, etc. An open piano with music. Flowers and books about. Fine art reproductions on walls. The fireplace is on the left. A door on the left leads to the hall, and a door on the right to the interior. A servant enters from the left, ushering in Baron and Baroness Revendal and Quincy Davenport. The Baron is a tall, stern, grizzled man of military bearing, with a narrow, fanatical forehead and martinet manners, but otherwise of honest and distinguished appearance, with a short, well-trimmed white beard and well-cut European clothes. Although his dignity is diminished by the constant nervous suspiciousness of the Russian official, it is never lost; his nervousness, despite its comic side, being visibly the tragic shadow of his position. His English has only a touch of the foreign in accent and vocabulary and is much superior to his wife's, which comes to her through her French. The Baroness is pretty and dressed in red in the height of Paris fashion, but blazes with barbaric jewels at neck and throat and wrist. She gestures freely with her hand, which, when ungloved, glitters with heavy rings. She is much younger than the Baron and self-consciously fascinating. Her parasol, which matches her costume, suggests the sunshine without. Quincy Davenport [Pg 102]is in a smart spring suit with a motor dust-coat and cap, which last he lays down on the mantelpiece.
April, about a month later. The scene shifts to Ms. Revendal's sitting room at the Settlement House on a sunny day. The furniture is simple and pretty: a sofa, chairs, a small table, etc. There's an open piano with music on it. Flowers and books are scattered around. Reproductions of fine art hang on the walls. The fireplace is on the left. A door on the left leads to the hall, and a door on the right goes to the interior. A servant enters from the left, bringing in Baron and Baroness Revendal along with Quincy Davenport. The Baron is a tall, stern man with gray hair and a military posture, sporting a narrow, intense forehead and strict manners, yet he appears honest and distinguished, with a short, well-groomed white beard and tailored European attire. Although his dignity is undermined by a constant nervous suspiciousness characteristic of Russian officials, it never truly fades; his nervousness, despite having a comic side, is visibly a tragic reflection of his situation. His English has just a hint of a foreign accent and vocabulary, which is significantly better than his wife's, who speaks through her French influence. The Baroness is pretty and dressed in red, following the latest Paris fashion, but she dazzles with extravagant jewelry around her neck, throat, and wrist. She gestures freely with her hand, which, when ungloved, sparkles with heavy rings. She is much younger than the Baron and is self-consciously captivating. Her parasol, matching her outfit, hints at the sunshine outside. Quincy Davenport [Pg 102] is in a stylish spring suit with a motor dust coat and cap, which he places on the mantelpiece.
SERVANT
ASSISTANT
Miss Revendal is on the roof-garden. I'll go and tell her.
Miss Revendal is in the rooftop garden. I'll go and let her know.
[Exit, toward the hall.]
[Leave, through the hallway.]
BARON
Baron
A marvellous people, you Americans. Gardens in the sky!
A wonderful group of people, you Americans. Gardens in the sky!
QUINCY
QUINCY
Gardens, forsooth! We plant a tub and call it Paradise. No, Baron. New York is the great stone desert.
Gardens, really! We plant a pot and call it Paradise. No way, Baron. New York is just a big concrete jungle.
BARONESS
Baroness
But ze big beautiful Park vere ve drove tru?
But the big beautiful park where we drove through?
QUINCY
QUINCY
No taste, Baroness, modern sculpture and menageries! Think of the Medici gardens at Rome.
No taste, Baroness, modern sculpture and animal collections! Think of the Medici gardens in Rome.
BARONESS
Baroness
Ah, Rome!
Oh, Rome!
[With an ecstatic sigh, she drops into an armchair. Then she takes out a dainty cigarette-case, pulls off her right-hand glove, exhibiting her rings, and chooses a cigarette. The Baron, seeing this, [Pg 103]produces his match-box.]
[With a blissful sigh, she sinks into an armchair. Then she pulls out a delicate cigarette case, removes her right glove to show off her rings, and picks a cigarette. The Baron, noticing this, [Pg 103]takes out his matchbox.]
QUINCY
QUINCY
And now, dear Baron Revendal, having brought you safely to the den of the lioness—if I may venture to call your daughter so—I must leave you to do the taming, eh?
And now, dear Baron Revendal, having brought you safely to the lair of the lioness—if I can call your daughter that—I must leave you to handle the taming, right?
BARON
LORD
You are always of the most amiable.
You're always super friendly.
[He strikes a match.]
He lights a match.
BARONESS
Baroness
Tout à fait charmant.
Absolutely charming.
[The Baron lights her cigarette.]
[The Baron lights her cigarette.]
QUINCY [Bows gallantly]
QUINCY [Bows elegantly]
Don't mention it. I'll just have my auto take me to the Club, and then I'll send it back for you.
Don't worry about it. I'll have my car take me to the Club, and then I'll send it back for you.
BARONESS
Baroness
Ah, zank you—zat street-car looks horreeble.
Ah, thank you—that streetcar looks horrible.
[She puffs out smoke.]
She exhales smoke.
BARON
BARON
Quite impossible. What is to prevent an anarchist sitting next to you and shooting out your brains?
Quite impossible. What’s to stop an anarchist from sitting next to you and shooting you in the head?
QUINCY
QUINCY
We haven't much of that here—I don't mean brains. Ha! Ha! Ha!
We don't have much of that here—I don't mean brains. Ha! Ha! Ha!
BARON
LORD
But I saw desperadoes spying as we came off your yacht.[Pg 104]
But I saw some tough characters watching us as we got off your yacht.[Pg 104]
QUINCY
QUINCY
Oh, that was newspaper chaps.
Oh, that was newspaper guys.
BARON [Shakes his head]
BARON [Shakes his head]
No—they are circulating my appearance to all the gang in the States. They took snapshots.
No—they're sharing my looks with everyone in the gang back in the States. They took some pictures.
QUINCY
QUINCY
Then you're quite safe from recognition.
Then you're totally safe from being recognized.
[He sniggers.]
[He slacks.]
Didn't they ask you questions?
Didn't they ask you anything?
BARON
LORD
Yes, but I am a diplomat. I do not reply.
Yes, but I'm a diplomat. I don't respond.
QUINCY
QUINCY
That's not very diplomatic here. Ha! Ha!
That's not very diplomatic here. Haha!
BARON
LORD
Diable!
Damn!
[He claps his hand to his hip pocket, half-producing a pistol. The Baroness looks equally anxious.]
[i]He slaps his hand against his hip pocket, partially pulling out a gun. The Baroness looks just as worried.[/i]
QUINCY
QUINCY
What's up?
What’s up?
BARON [Points to window, whispers hoarsely]
BARON [Points to the window, whispers hoarsely]
Regard! A hooligan peeped in!
Look! A troublemaker is spying!
QUINCY [Goes to window]
QUINCY [Looks out the window]
Only some poor devil come to the Settlement.[Pg 105]
Only some unfortunate person has arrived at the Settlement.[Pg 105]
BARON [Hoarsely]
BARON [Gravely]
But under his arm—a bomb!
But under his arm—a bomb!
QUINCY [Shaking his head smilingly]
QUINCY [Shaking his head, smiling]
A soup bowl.
A bowl of soup.
BARONESS
BARONESS
Ha! Ha! Ha!
Ha! Ha! Ha!
QUINCY
QUINCY
What makes you so nervous, Baron?
What’s making you so nervous, Baron?
[The Baron slips back his pistol, a little ashamed.]
The Baron holsters his gun, somewhat embarrassed.
BARONESS
Baroness
Ze Intellectuals and ze Bund, zey all hate my husband because he is faizful to Christ
Ze Intellectuals and ze Bund, they all hate my husband because he is faithful to Christ.
[Crossing herself]
Making the sign of the cross
and ze Tsar.
and the Tsar.
QUINCY
QUINCY
But the Intellectuals are in Russia.
But the intellectuals are in Russia.
BARON
LORD
They have their branches here—the refugees are the leaders—it is a diabolical network.
They have their branches here—the refugees are in charge—it’s a wicked network.
QUINCY
QUINCY
Well, anyhow, we're not in Russia, eh? No, no, Baron, you're quite safe. Still, you can keep my automobile as long as you like—I've plenty.[Pg 106]
Well, anyway, we're not in Russia, right? No, no, Baron, you're totally safe. Still, you can keep my car for as long as you want—I have plenty.[Pg 106]
BARON
LORD
A thousand thanks.
Thanks a lot.
[Wiping his forehead.]
Wiping his forehead.
But surely no gentleman would sit in the public car, squeezed between working-men and shop-girls, not to say Jews and Blacks.
But surely no gentleman would sit in the public car, squeezed between working men and shop girls, not to mention Jews and Blacks.
QUINCY
QUINCY
It is done here. But we shall change all that. Already we have a few taxi-cabs. Give us time, my dear Baron, give us time. You mustn't judge us by your European standard.
It is done here. But we’re going to change all that. We already have a few taxis. Give us time, my dear Baron, give us time. You mustn't judge us by your European standards.
BARON
LORD
By the European standard, Mr. Davenport, you put our hospitality to the shame. From the moment you sent your yacht for us to Odessa——
By European standards, Mr. Davenport, you put our hospitality to shame. From the moment you sent your yacht for us to Odessa——
QUINCY
QUINCY
Pray, don't ever speak of that again—you know how anxious I was to get you to New York.
Pray, don’t ever bring that up again—you know how stressed I was to get you to New York.
BARON
LORD
Provided we have arrived in time!
Provided we made it on time!
QUINCY
QUINCY
That's all right, I keep telling you. They aren't married yet——
That's fine, I keep telling you. They aren't married yet—
BARON [Grinding his teeth and shaking his fist]
BARON [Grinding his teeth and shaking his fist]
Those Jew-vermin—all my life I have suffered from them![Pg 107]
Those Jewish pests—all my life I have suffered because of them![Pg 107]
QUINCY
QUINCY
We all suffer from them.
We all struggle with them.
BARONESS
BARONESS
Zey are ze pests of ze civilisation.
Zey are the pests of the civilization.
BARON
BARON
But this supreme insult Vera shall not put on the blood of the Revendals—not if I have to shoot her down with my own hand—and myself after!
But Vera will not get away with this ultimate insult to the Revendals—not if I have to take her down myself—and then end it for myself too!
QUINCY
QUINCY
No, no, Baron, that's not done here. Besides, if you shoot her down, where do I come in, eh?
No, no, Baron, that's not how things work here. Besides, if you take her out, where do I fit in, huh?
BARON [Puzzled]
BARON [Confused]
Where you come in?
Where do you come in?
QUINCY
QUINCY
Oh, Baron! Surely you have guessed that it is not merely Jew-hate, but—er—Christian love. Eh?
Oh, Baron! You must have figured out that it’s not just hatred for Jews, but—uh—love for Christians. Right?
[Laughing uneasily.]
Nervous laughter.
BARON
Baron
You!
You!
BARONESS [Clapping her hands]
BARONESS [Applauding]
Oh, charmant, charmant! But it ees a romance!
Oh, charming, charming! But it's a romance!
BARON
BARON
BARONESS [Downcast]
BARONESS [Sad]
Ah, oui. Quel dommage, vat a peety!
Ah, yes. What a pity, that's a shame!
QUINCY
QUINCY
You forget, Baron, we are in America. The law giveth and the law taketh away.
You forget, Baron, we're in America. The law gives and the law takes away.
[He sniggers.]
He’s slacking.
BARONESS
Baroness
It ees a vonderful country! But your vife—hein?—vould she consent?
It’s a wonderful country! But your wife—what?—would she agree?
QUINCY
QUINCY
She's mad to get back on the stage—I'll run a theatre for her. It's your daughter's consent that's the real trouble—she won't see me because I lost my temper and told her to stop with her Jew. So I look to you to straighten things out.
She's eager to get back on stage—I'll manage a theater for her. The real issue is your daughter's approval—she won't talk to me because I lost my cool and told her to cut it out with her Jewish boyfriend. So I'm counting on you to sort things out.
BARONESS
LADY
Mais parfaitement.
But perfectly.
BARON [Frowning at her]
BARON [Frowning at her]
You go too quick, Katusha. What influence have I on Vera? And you she has never even seen! To kick out the Jew-beast is one thing....
You’re going too fast, Katusha. What effect do I have on Vera? And you she has never even met! Kicking out the Jew-beast is one thing...
QUINCY
QUINCY
Well, anyhow, don't shoot her—shoot the beast rather.
Well, anyway, don't shoot her—shoot the beast instead.
BARON
BARON
Shooting is too good for the enemies of Christ.
Shooting is too merciful for Christ's enemies.
[Crossing himself.]
Making the sign of the cross.
At Kishineff we stick the swine.
At Kishineff, we process the pigs.
QUINCY [Interested]
QUINCY [Curious]
Ah! I read about that. Did you see the massacre?
Ah! I read about that. Did you see the massacre?
BARON
LORD
Which one? Give me a cigarette, Katusha.
Which one? Hand me a cigarette, Katusha.
[She obeys.]
She complies.
We've had several Jew-massacres in Kishineff.
We've experienced several massacres of Jews in Kishineff.
QUINCY
QUINCY
Have you? The papers only boomed one—four or five years ago—about Easter time, I think——
Have you? The papers only talked about it one—four or five years ago—around Easter time, I think——
BARON
Baron
Ah, yes—when the Jews insulted the procession of the Host!
Ah, yes—when the Jews dissed the procession of the Host!
[Taking a light from the cigarette in his wife's mouth.]
[Lighting a cigarette from his wife's cigarette.]
QUINCY
QUINCY
Did they? I thought——
Did they? I thought—
BARON [Sarcastically]
BARON [Sarcastically]
I daresay. That's the lies they spread in the West. They have the Press in their hands, damn 'em. But you see I was on the spot.
I would say. That's the lies they spread in the West. They control the media, damn them. But you see, I was there.
[He drops into a chair.]
He plops down in a chair.
QUINCY [Startled]
QUINCY [Surprised]
You!
You!
BARON
BARON
Yes, and I hurried a regiment up to teach the blaspheming brutes manners——
Yes, and I quickly sent a group of soldiers to teach the disrespectful idiots some etiquette——
[He puffs out a leisurely cloud.]
He breathes out a relaxed cloud.
QUINCY [Whistling]
QUINCY [whistling]
Whew!... I—I say, old chap, I mean Baron, you'd better not say that here.
Whew!... I—I mean, hey there, Baron, you might want to rethink saying that here.
BARON
LORD
Why not? I am proud of it.
Why not? I'm proud of it.
BARONESS
Baroness
My husband vas decorated for it—he has ze order of St. Vladimir.
My husband was honored for it—he has the Order of St. Vladimir.
BARON [Proudly]
BARON [Proud]
Second class! Shall we allow these bigots to mock at all we hold sacred? The Jews are the deadliest enemies of our holy autocracy and of the only orthodox Church. Their Bund is behind all the Revolution.
Second class! Should we let these bigots ridicule everything we hold dear? The Jews are the greatest enemies of our holy autocracy and the only true Church. Their Bund is behind the entire Revolution.
BARONESS
BARONESS
A plague-spot muz be cut out!
A plague spot must be cut out!
QUINCY
QUINCY
Well, I'd keep it dark if I were you. Kishineff is a back number, and we don't take much stock in the new massacres. Still, we're a bit squeamish—[Pg 111]—
Well, I'd keep it dark if I were you. Kishineff is old news, and we don't put much faith in the new massacres. Still, we're a bit squeamish—[Pg 111]—
BARON
Nobleman
Squeamish! Don't you lynch and roast your niggers?
Squeamish! Don't you hang and cook your Black people?
QUINCY
QUINCY
Not officially. Whereas your Black Hundreds——
Not officially. While your Black Hundreds——
BARON
LORD
Black Hundreds! My dear Mr. Davenport, they are the white hosts of Christ
Black Hundreds! My dear Mr. Davenport, they are the white hosts of Christ.
[Crossing himself]
Making the sign of the cross
and of the Tsar, who is God's vicegerent on earth. Have you not read the works of our sainted Pobiedonostzeff, Procurator of the Most Holy Synod?
and of the Tsar, who is God's representative on earth. Have you not read the works of our esteemed Pobiedonostzeff, Procurator of the Most Holy Synod?
QUINCY
QUINCY
Well, of course, I always felt there was another side to it, but still——
Well, of course, I always felt there was another side to it, but still——
BARONESS
BARONESS
Perhaps he has right, Alexis. Our Ambassador vonce told me ze Americans are more sentimental zan civilised.
Perhaps he's right, Alexis. Our ambassador once told me that Americans are more sentimental than civilized.
BARON
LORD
Ah, let them wait till they have ten million vermin overrunning their country—we shall see how long they will be sentimental. Think of it! A burrowing swarm creeping and crawling everywhere, ugh! They ruin our peasantry with their loans and their drink shops, ruin our army with their revolutionary propaganda, ruin our professional classes by snatching all the prizes and professorships, ruin our commercial[Pg 112] classes by monopolising our sugar industries, our oil-fields, our timber-trade.... Why, if we gave them equal rights, our Holy Russia would be entirely run by them.
Ah, let them wait until they have ten million pests overrunning their country—we'll see how long they stay sentimental. Just think about it! A burrowing swarm creeping and crawling everywhere, ugh! They destroy our farmers with their loans and their bars, ruin our army with their revolutionary propaganda, wreck our professional classes by taking all the prizes and teaching positions, and mess up our commercial[Pg 112] classes by monopolizing our sugar industries, oil fields, and timber trade... Honestly, if we gave them equal rights, our Holy Russia would be completely run by them.
BARONESS
BARONESS
Mon dieu! C'est vrai. Ve real Russians vould become slaves.
Oh my God! It's true. Real Russians would become slaves.
QUINCY
QUINCY
Then what are you going to do with them?
Then what are you going to do with them?
BARON
Noble Title
One-third will be baptized, one-third massacred, the other third emigrated here.
One-third will be baptized, one-third will be killed, and the other third will have emigrated here.
[He strikes a match to relight his cigarette.]
He lights a match to relight his cigarette.
QUINCY [Shudderingly]
QUINCY [In horror]
Thank you, my dear Baron,—you've already sent me one Jew too many. We're going to stop all alien immigration.
Thank you, my dear Baron—you've already sent me one too many. We're going to put a halt to all foreign immigration.
BARON
LORD
To stop all alien—? But that is barbarous!
To stop all aliens? That's brutal!
QUINCY
QUINCY
Well, don't let us waste our time on the Jew-problem ... our own little Jew-problem is enough, eh? Get rid of this little fiddler. Then I may have a look in. Adieu, Baron.[Pg 113]
Well, let’s not waste our time on the Jewish issue... our own little issue is enough, right? Get rid of this little fiddler. Then I can have a look. Goodbye, Baron.[Pg 113]
BARON
Nobleman
Adieu.
Goodbye.
[Holding his hand]
[Holding his hand]
But you are not really serious about Vera?
But you're not actually serious about Vera, right?
[The Baroness makes a gesture of annoyance.]
[The Baroness gestures in annoyance.]
QUINCY
QUINCY
Not serious, Baron? Why, to marry her is the only thing I have ever wanted that I couldn't get. It is torture! Baroness, I rely on your sympathy.
Not serious, Baron? Marrying her is the only thing I've ever wanted that I can't have. It's torture! Baroness, I'm counting on your sympathy.
[He kisses her hand with a pretentious foreign air.]
He kisses her hand with an affected foreign flair.
BARONESS [In sentimental approval]
BARONESS [In emotional approval]
Ah! l'amour! l'amour!
Ah! Love! Love!
[Exit Quincy Davenport, taking his cap in passing.]
[Exit Quincy Davenport, grabbing his cap as he goes.]
You might have given him a little encouragement, Alexis.
You might have given him some encouragement, Alexis.
BARON
Nobleman
Silence, Katusha. I only tolerated the man in Europe because he was a link with Vera.
Silence, Katusha. I only put up with the guy in Europe because he was connected to Vera.
BARONESS
BARONESS
You accepted his yacht and his——
You accepted his yacht and his——
BARON
Noble
If I had known his loose views on divorce——
If I had known how relaxed he was about divorce——
BARONESS
Baroness
I am sick of your scruples. You are ze only poor official in Bessarabia.[Pg 114]
I’m tired of your scruples. You’re the only poor official in Bessarabia.[Pg 114]
BARON
Noble
Be silent! Have I not forbidden——?
Be quiet! Didn’t I tell you not to——?
BARONESS [Petulantly]
BARONESS [Poutingly]
Forbidden! Forbidden! All your life you have served ze Tsar, and you cannot afford a single automobile. A millionaire son-in-law is just vat you owe me.
Forbidden! Forbidden! All your life you have served the Tsar, and you can't afford a single car. A millionaire son-in-law is exactly what you owe me.
BARON
Noble
What I owe you?
What do I owe you?
BARONESS
BARONESS
Yes, ven I married you, I vas tinking you had a good position. I did not know you were too honest to use it. You vere not open viz me, Alexis.
Yes, when I married you, I thought you had a good job. I didn't know you were too honest to take advantage of it. You weren't upfront with me, Alexis.
BARON
NOBLEMAN
You knew I was a Revendal. The Revendals keep their hands clean....
You knew I was a Revendal. The Revendals stay out of any dirty business....
[With a sudden start he tiptoes noiselessly to the door leading to the hall and throws it open. Nobody is visible. He closes it shamefacedly.]
With a jolt, he quietly tiptoes to the door that leads to the hall and flings it open. No one is in sight. He closes it, feeling embarrassed.
BARONESS [Has shared his nervousness till the door was opened, but now bursts into mocking laughter]
BARONESS [Has shared his nervousness until the door was opened, but now bursts into mocking laughter]
If you thought less about your precious safety, and more about me and Vera——
If you focused less on your precious safety and more on me and Vera——
BARON
LORD
Hush! You do not know Vera. You saw I was even afraid to give my name. She might have sent me away as she sent away the Tsar's plate of mutton.[Pg 115]
Hush! You don’t know Vera. You saw I was even scared to say my name. She could have sent me away just like she sent away the Tsar's plate of mutton.[Pg 115]
BARONESS
BARONESS
The Tsar's plate of——?
The Tsar's plate of——?
BARON
LORD
Did I never tell you? When she was only a school-girl—at the Imperial High School—the Tsar on his annual visit tasted the food, and Vera, as the show pupil, was given the honour of finishing his Majesty's plate.
Did I never mention it? When she was just a schoolgirl—at the Imperial High School—the Tsar tried the food during his annual visit, and Vera, being the star student, was given the honor of finishing his Majesty's plate.
BARONESS [In incredulous horror]
BARONESS [In shocked disbelief]
And she sent it avay?
And she sent it away?
BARON
LORD
Gave it to a servant.
Gave it to a helper.
[Awed silence.]
Awestruck silence.
And then you think I can impose a husband on her. No, Katusha, I have to win her love for myself, not for millionaires.
And then you think I can just force a husband on her? No, Katusha, I need to win her love for myself, not for some millionaires.
BARONESS [Angry again]
BARONESS [Upset again]
Alvays so affrightfully selfish!
Always so incredibly selfish!
BARON
BARON
I have no control over her, I tell you!
I have no control over her, I swear!
[Bitterly]
Bitterly
I never could control my womenkind.
I could never control the women in my life.
BARONESS
BARONESS
Because you zink zey are your soldiers. Silence! Halt! Forbidden! Right Veel! March![Pg 116]
Because you think they are your soldiers. Silence! Stop! Not allowed! Right. A lot! March!__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
BARON [Sullenly]
BARON [Gloomily]
I wish I did think they were my soldiers—I might try the lash.
I wish I really thought they were my soldiers—I might give the whip a try.
BARONESS [Springing up angrily, shakes parasol at him]
BARONESS [Jumping up angrily, shakes her parasol at him]
You British barbarian!
You British savage!
VERA [Outside the door leading to the interior]
VERA [Outside the door leading into the building]
Yes, thank you, Miss Andrews. I know I have visitors.
Yes, thank you, Miss Andrews. I know I have guests.
BARON [Ecstatically]
BARON [Super excited]
Vera's voice!
Vera's voice!
[The Baroness lowers her parasol. He looks yearningly toward the door. It opens. Enter Vera with inquiring gaze.]
[i]The Baroness lowers her umbrella. He gazes longingly at the door. It opens. Vera enters with a curious look.[/i]
VERA [With a great shock of surprise]
VERA [With a huge shock of surprise]
Father!!
Dad!!
BARON
NOBLE
Verotschka! My dearest darling!...
Verotschka! My beloved!...
[He makes a movement toward her, but is checked by her irresponsiveness.]
He reaches out to her, but her lack of response stops him.
Why, you've grown more beautiful than ever.
Wow, you've become even more beautiful.
VERA
VERA
You in New York!
You're in New York!
BARON
Noble
The Baroness wished to see America. Katusha, this is my daughter.[Pg 117]
The Baroness wanted to visit America. Katusha, this is my daughter.[Pg 117]
BARONESS [In sugared sweetness]
BARONESS [In sweet sugar]
And mine, too, if she vill let me love her.
And mine, too, if she'll let me love her.
VERA [Bowing coldly, but still addressing her father]
VERA [Bowing coldly, but still talking to her father]
But how? When?
But how? When?
BARON
LORD
We have just come and——
We just arrived and——
BARONESS [Dashing in]
BARONESS [Entering boldly]
Zat charming young man lent us his yacht—he is adoràhble.
That charming young man lent us his yacht—he is adorable.
VERA
VERA
What charming young man?
What a charming young man?
BARONESS
BARONESS
Ah, she has many, ze little coquette—ha! ha! ha!
Ah, she has many, the little flirt—ha! ha! ha!
[She touches Vera playfully with her parasol.]
She playfully touches Vera with her parasol.
BARON
LORD
We wished to give you a pleasant surprise.
We wanted to surprise you in a nice way.
VERA
VERA
It is certainly a surprise.
It's definitely a surprise.
BARON [Chilled]
BARON [Chilled]
You are not very ... daughterly.
You’re not very ... daughterly.
VERA
VERA
Do you remember when you last saw me? You did not claim me as a daughter then.[Pg 118]
Do you remember when you last saw me? You didn’t claim me as your daughter then.[Pg 118]
BARON [Covers his eyes with his hand]
BARON [Covers his eyes with his hand]
Do not recall it; it hurts too much.
Do not think about it; it hurts too much.
VERA
VERA
I was in the dock.
I was in court.
BARON
Noble
It was horrible. I hated you for the devil of rebellion that had entered into your soul. But I thanked God when you escaped.
It was awful. I hated you for the spirit of rebellion that had taken over your soul. But I was grateful to God when you broke free.
VERA [Softened]
VERA [Soften]
I think I was more sorry for you than for myself. I hope, at least, no suspicion fell on you.
I think I felt more sorry for you than for myself. I hope, at least, that no suspicion was cast on you.
BARONESS [Eagerly]
BARONESS [Excitedly]
But it did—an avalanche of suspicion. He is still buried under it. Vy else did they make Skovaloff Ambassador instead of him? Even now he risks everyting to see you again. Ah, mon enfant, you owe your fazer a grand reparation!
But it did—an avalanche of suspicion. He is still buried under it. Why else would they make Skovaloff Ambassador instead of him? Even now he risks everything to see you again. Ah, mon enfant, you owe your father a huge apology!
VERA
VERA
What reparation can I possibly make?
What kind of compensation can I possibly provide?
BARON [Passionately]
BARON [With Enthusiasm]
You can love me again, Vera.
You can love me again, Vera.
BARONESS [Stamping foot]
BARONESS [Stomping foot]
VERA
VERA
I fear, father, we have grown too estranged—our ideas are so opposite——
I’m afraid, Dad, we’ve become too distant—our ideas are so different—
BARON
Noble
But not now, Vera, surely not now? You are no longer
But not now, Vera, definitely not now? You are no longer
[He lowers his voice and looks around]
He whispers and looks around.
a Revolutionist?
a Revolutionary?
VERA
VERA
Not with bombs, perhaps. I thank Heaven I was caught before I had done any practical work. But if you think I accept the order of things, you are mistaken. In Russia I fought against the autocracy——
Not with bombs, maybe. I thank Heaven I was caught before I had done any real work. But if you think I accept how things are, you’re wrong. In Russia, I fought against the autocracy——
BARON
BARON
Hush! Hush!
Shh! Shh!
[He looks round nervously.]
He looks around nervously.
VERA
VERA
Here I fight against the poverty. No, father, a woman who has once heard the call will always be a wild creature.
Here I struggle against poverty. No, father, a woman who has heard the call will always be a free spirit.
BARON
LORD
But
But
[Lowering his voice]
Lowering his voice
those revolutionary Russian clubs here—you are not a member?[Pg 120]
those revolutionary Russian clubs here—you’re not a member?[Pg 120]
VERA
VERA
I do not believe in Revolutions carried on at a safe distance. I have found my life-work in America.
I don't believe in revolutions that happen from afar. I've found my life's work in America.
BARON
LORD
I am enchanted, Vera, enchanted.
I'm enchanted, Vera, enchanted.
BARONESS [Gushingly]
BARONESS [Enthusiastically]
Permit me to kiss you, belle enfant.
Permit me to kiss you, beautiful child.
VERA
VERA
I do not know you enough yet; I will kiss my father.
I don’t know you well enough yet; I will kiss my dad.
BARON [With a great cry of joy]
BARON [With a loud shout of happiness]
Vera!
Vera!
[He embraces her passionately.]
He hugs her passionately.
At last! At last! I have found my little Vera again!
At last! At last! I've found my little Vera again!
VERA
VERA
No, father, your Vera belongs to Russia with her mother and the happy days of childhood. But for their sakes——
No, Dad, your Vera belongs to Russia with her mom and the joyful days of childhood. But for their sake——
[She breaks down in emotion.]
She breaks down in tears.
BARON
LORD
Ah, your poor mother!
Oh, your poor mom!
BARONESS [Tartly]
BARONESS [Snappily]
Alexis, I perceive I am too many!
Alexis, I realize that I’m too much!
BARON
LORD
No, no, Katusha. Vera will learn to love you, too.
No, no, Katusha. Vera will learn to love you as well.
VERA [To Baroness]
VERA [To Baroness]
What does my loving you matter? I can never return to Russia.
What does it matter that I love you? I can never go back to Russia.
BARONESS [Pausing]
BARONESS [Taking a moment]
But ve can come here—often—ven you are married.
But we can come here—often—when you are married.
VERA [Surprised]
VERA [Shocked]
When I am married?
When will I get married?
[Softly, blushing]
Softly, blushing
You know?
You know?
BARONESS [Smiling]
BARONESS [Smiling]
Ve know zat charming young man adores ze floor your foot treads on!
We know that charming young man adores the ground your foot walks on!
VERA [Blushing]
VERA [Blushing]
You have seen David?
Have you seen David?
BARON [Hoarsely]
BARON [Raspy]
David!
David!
[He clenches his fist.]
He balls his fist.
BARONESS [Half aside, as much gestured as spoken]
BARONESS [Half to herself, with more gesture than words]
Sh! Leave it to me.
Shh! Let me handle it.
[Sweetly.]
Sweetly.
VERA [Looking from one to the other]
VERA [Looking back and forth]
Not seen—? Then what—whom are you talking about?
Not seen—? Then who are you talking about?
BARONESS
BARONESS
About zat handsome, quite adoràhble Mr. Davenport.
About that handsome, quite adorable Mr. Davenport.
VERA
VERA
Davenport!
Davenport!
BARONESS
BARONESS
Who combines ze manners of Europe viz ze millions of America!
Who combines the manners of Europe with the millions of America!
VERA [Breaks into girlish laughter]
VERA [Bursts into giggles]
Ha! Ha! Ha! So Mr. Davenport has been talking to you! But you all seem to forget one small point—bigamy is not permitted even to millionaires.
Ha! Ha! Ha! So Mr. Davenport has been chatting with you! But you all seem to overlook one small detail—bigamy isn't allowed, even for millionaires.
BARONESS
BARONESS
Ah, not boz at vonce, but——
Ah, not both at once, but——
VERA
VERA
And do you think I would take another woman's leavings? No, not even if she were dead.
And do you really think I would take someone else's leftovers? No, not even if she were dead.
BARONESS
BARONESS
You are insulting!
You're being rude!
VERA
VERA
I beg your pardon—I wasn't even thinking of you. Father, to put an end at once to this absurd conversation, let me inform you I am already engaged.[Pg 123]
I’m sorry—I wasn’t even thinking about you. Dad, to put an end to this ridiculous conversation, I want to let you know that I’m already engaged.[Pg 123]
BARON [Trembling, hoarse]
BARON [Trembling, raspy]
By name, David.
By name, David.
VERA
VERA
Yes—David Quixano.
Yes—David Quixano.
BARON
BARON
A Jew!
A Jewish person!
VERA
VERA
How did you know? Yes, he is a Jew, a noble Jew.
How did you know? Yes, he is a Jew, a noble Jew.
BARON
LORD
A Jew noble!
A Jewish noble!
[He laughs bitterly.]
He laughs cynically.
VERA
VERA
Yes—even as you esteem nobility—by pedigree. In Spain his ancestors were hidalgos, favourites at the Court of Ferdinand and Isabella; but in the great expulsion of 1492 they preferred exile in Poland to baptism.
Yes—even as you value nobility—by family background. In Spain, his ancestors were hidalgos, favorites at the Court of Ferdinand and Isabella; but during the great expulsion of 1492, they chose exile in Poland over conversion.
BARON
Noble
And you, a Revendal, would mate with an unbaptized dog?
And you, a Revendal, would mate with an unbaptized dog?
VERA
VERA
Dog! You call my husband a dog!
Dog! You call my husband a dog!
BARON
BARON
Husband! God in heaven—are you married already?[Pg 124]
Husband! Oh my God in heaven—are you already married?[Pg 124]
VERA
VERA
No! But not being unemployed millionaires like Mr. Davenport, we hold even our troth eternal.
No! But since we’re not unemployed millionaires like Mr. Davenport, we still value our promises forever.
[Calmer]
[More relaxed]
Our poverty, not your prejudice, stands in the way of our marriage. But David is a musician of genius, and some day——
Our poverty, not your prejudice, is what's blocking our marriage. But David is a brilliant musician, and someday——
BARONESS
Baroness
A fiddler in a beer-hall! She prefers a fiddler to a millionaire of ze first families of America!
A fiddler in a bar! She’d rather have a fiddler than a millionaire from one of America's top families!
VERA [Contemptuously]
VERA [With disdain]
First families! I told you David's family came to Poland in 1492—some months before America was discovered.
First families! I told you David's family arrived in Poland in 1492—just a few months before America was discovered.
BARON
LORD
Christ save us! You have become a Jewess!
Christ save us! You've become a Jewish woman!
VERA
VERA
No more than David has become a Christian. We were already at one—all honest people are. Surely, father, all religions must serve the same God—since there is only one God to serve.
No more than David has become a Christian. We were already one—all honest people are. Surely, Dad, all religions must serve the same God—since there is only one God to serve.
BARONESS
BARONESS
But ze girl is an ateist!
But the girl is an atheist!
BARON
LORD
Silence, Katusha! Leave me to deal with my daughter.
Silence, Katusha! Let me handle my daughter.
[Pg 125][Changing tone to pathos, taking her face between his hands]
[Pg 125][Switching to an emotional tone, he cupped her face in his hands]
Oh, Vera, Verotschka, my dearest darling, I had sooner you had remained buried in Siberia than that——
Oh, Vera, Verotschka, my dearest darling, I would have preferred you to stay buried in Siberia than that——
[He breaks down.]
He has a breakdown.
VERA [Touched, sitting beside him]
VERA [Moved, sitting next to him]
For you, father, I was as though buried in Siberia. Why did you come here to stab yourself afresh?
For you, Dad, I felt like I was buried in Siberia. Why did you come here to hurt yourself again?
BARON
BARON
I wish to God I had come here earlier. I wish I had not been so nervous of Russian spies. Ah, Verotschka, if you only knew how I have pored over the newspaper pictures of you, and the reports of your life in this Settlement!
I wish to God I had gotten here sooner. I wish I hadn't been so paranoid about Russian spies. Ah, Verotschka, if you only knew how I've studied the pictures of you in the newspapers and the reports about your life in this Settlement!
VERA
VERA
You asked me not to send letters.
You told me not to send any letters.
BARON
LORD
I know, I know—and yet sometimes I felt as if I could risk Siberia myself to read your dear, dainty handwriting again.
I get it, I really do—and yet sometimes I felt like I could brave Siberia just to see your lovely, delicate handwriting again.
VERA [Still more softened]
VERA [Even more softened]
Father, if you love me so much, surely you will love David a little too—for my sake.
Father, if you care about me this much, then you must care about David a bit, too—just for my sake.
BARON [Dazed]
BARON [Lightheaded]
I—love—a Jew? Impossible.
I love a Jew? No way.
VERA [Moving away, icily]
VERA [Walking away coldly]
Then so is any love from me to you. You have chosen to come back into my life, and after our years of pain and separation I would gladly remember only my old childish affection. But not if you hate David. You must make your choice.
Then so is any love from me to you. You’ve chosen to come back into my life, and after all our years of pain and separation, I would happily remember only my old childish affection. But not if you hate David. You need to make your choice.
BARON [Pitifully]
BARON [Pitiful]
Choice? I have no choice. Can I carry mountains? No more can I love a Jew.
Choice? I have no choice. Can I carry mountains? I can no more love a Jew.
[He rises resolutely.]
He stands up firmly.
BARONESS [Who has turned away, fretting and fuming, turns back to her husband, clapping her hands]
BARONESS [Who has turned away, frustrated and angry, turns back to her husband, clapping her hands]
Bravo!
Awesome!
VERA [Going to him again, coaxingly]
VERA [Approaching him again, gently persuading]
I don't ask you to carry mountains, but to drop the mountains you carry—the mountains of prejudice. Wait till you see him.
I’m not asking you to move mountains, but to let go of the mountains you’re carrying—the mountains of prejudice. Just wait until you meet him.
BARON
BARON
I will not see him.
I'm not going to see him.
VERA
VERA
Then you will hear him—he is going to make music for all the world. You can't escape him, papasha, you with your love of music, any more than you escaped Rubinstein.
Then you’ll hear him—he’s going to make music for everyone. You can’t escape him, papasha, with your love of music, any more than you escaped Rubinstein.
BARONESS
BARONESS
VERA
VERA
Rubinstein was a Jewish boy-genius, just like my David.
Rubinstein was a Jewish child prodigy, just like my David.
BARONESS
Baroness
But his parents vere baptized soon after his birth. I had it from his patroness, ze Grande Duchesse Helena Pavlovna.
But his parents were baptized soon after he was born. I heard it from his sponsor, the Grand Duchess Helena Pavlovna.
VERA
VERA
And did the water outside change the blood within? Rubinstein was our Court pianist and was decorated by the Tsar. And you, the Tsar's servant, dare to say you could not meet a Rubinstein.
And did the water outside change the blood inside? Rubinstein was our Court pianist and was honored by the Tsar. And you, the Tsar's servant, have the audacity to say you couldn't meet a Rubinstein.
BARON [Wavering]
BARON [Unsure]
I did not say I could not meet a Rubinstein.
I didn't say I couldn't meet a Rubinstein.
VERA
VERA
You practically said so. David will be even greater than Rubinstein. Come, father, I'll telephone for him; he is only round the corner.
You basically said that. David will be even greater than Rubinstein. Come on, Dad, I’ll call him; he’s just around the corner.
BARONESS [Excitedly]
BARONESS [Thrilled]
Ve vill not see him!
We will not see him!
VERA [Ignoring her]
VERA [Disregarding her]
He shall bring his violin and play to you. There! You see, little father, you are already less frowning—now take that last wrinkle out of your forehead.
He'll bring his violin and play for you. There! You see, little father, you're already frowning less—now smooth out that last wrinkle on your forehead.
[She caresses his forehead.]
She strokes his forehead.
Never mind! David will smooth it out with his music as his Biblical ancestor smoothed that surly old Saul.[Pg 128]
Never mind! David will fix it with his music just like his Biblical ancestor calmed down that grumpy old Saul.[Pg 128]
BARONESS
BARONESS
Ve vill not hear him!
We will not hear him!
BARON
Noble
Silence, Katusha! Oh, my little Vera, I little thought when I let you study music at Petersburg——
Silence, Katusha! Oh, my little Vera, I never imagined when I let you study music in Petersburg——
VERA [Smiling wheedlingly]
VERA [Smiling sweetly]
That I should marry a musician. But you see, little father, it all ends in music after all. Now I will go and perform on the telephone, I'm not angel enough to bear one in here.
That I should marry a musician. But you see, little father, it all ends in music anyway. Now I'm going to go and perform on the phone; I'm not angelic enough to handle one in here.
[She goes toward the door of the hall, smiling happily.]
She walks towards the hall door, smiling happily.
BARON [With a last agonized cry of resistance]
BARON [With one final, desperate scream of defiance]
Halt!
Stop!
VERA [Turning, makes mock military salute]
VERA [Turns and gives a playful military salute]
Yes, papasha.
Yes, dad.
BARON [Overcome by her roguish smile]
BARON [Engulfed by her mischievous smile]
You—I—he—do you love this J—this David so much?
You—I—he—do you love this J—this David so much?
VERA [Suddenly tragic]
VERA [Unexpectedly tragic]
It would kill me to give him up.
It would be devastating to let him go.
[Resuming smile]
[Smiling again]
But don't let us talk of funerals on this happy day of sunshine and reunion.
But let's not talk about funerals on this joyful day of sunshine and coming together.
[She kisses her hand to him and exit toward the hall.]
She blows him a kiss and walks out toward the hall.
BARONESS [Angrily]
BARONESS [Furious]
BARON
BARON
She is the only child I have ever had, Katusha. Her baby arms curled round my neck; in her baby sorrows her wet face nestled against little father's.
She is the only child I’ve ever had, Katusha. Her little arms wrapped around my neck; in her baby sadness, her wet face pressed against her little dad's.
[He drops on a chair, and leans his head on the table.]
He plops down on a chair and rests his head on the table.
BARONESS [Approaching tauntingly]
BARONESS [Approaching playfully]
So you vill have a Jew son-in-law!
So you want a Jewish son-in-law!
BARON
LORD
You don't know what it meant to me to feel her arms round me again.
You have no idea how much it meant to me to feel her arms around me again.
BARONESS
BARONESS
And a hook-nosed brat to call you grandpapa, and nestle his greasy face against yours.
And a kid with a hooked nose calling you grandpa, snuggling his greasy face against yours.
BARON [Banging his fist on the table]
BARON [Slamming his fist on the table]
Don't drive me mad!
Don't drive me crazy!
[His head drops again.]
His head drops again.
BARONESS
BARONESS
Then drive me home—I vill not meet him.... Alexis!
Then drive me home—I will not meet him.... Alexis!
[She taps him on the shoulder with her parasol. He does not move.]
[She taps him on the shoulder with her umbrella. He doesn't move.]
Alexis Ivanovitch! Do you not listen!...
Alexis Ivanovitch! Are you not listening!...
[She stamps her foot.]
She stomps her foot.
Zen I go to ze hotel alone.
Zen I go to the hotel alone.
[Pg 130][She walks angrily toward the hall. Just before she reaches the door, it opens, and the servant ushers in Herr Pappelmeister with his umbrella. The Baroness's tone changes instantly to a sugared society accent.]
[Pg 130][She storms toward the hall. Just as she gets to the door, it swings open, and the servant lets in Mr. Pappelmeister with his umbrella. The Baroness tone shifts immediately to a sweet, refined accent.]
How do you do, Herr Pappelmeister?
How's it going, Mr. Pappelmeister?
[She extends her hand, which he takes limply.]
She reaches out her hand, and he takes it weakly.
You don't remember me? Non?
You don’t remember me? No?
[Exit servant.]
[Leave, servant.]
Ve vere with Mr. Quincy Davenport at Wiesbaden—-ze Baroness Revendal.
Ve vere with Mr. Quincy Davenport at Wiesbaden—the Baroness Revendal.
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPERMASTER
So!
Got it!
[He drops her hand.]
He lets go of her hand.
BARONESS
BARONESS
Yes, it vas ze Baron's entousiasm for you zat got you your present position.
Yes, it was the Baron's enthusiasm for you that got you your current position.
PAPPELMEISTER [Arching his eyebrows]
PAPPELMEISTER [Raising his eyebrows]
So!
Alright!
BARONESS
Baroness
Yes—zere he is!
Yes—there he is!
[She turns toward the Baron.]
[She faces the Baron.]
Alexis, rouse yourself!
Alexis, wake up!
[She taps him with her parasol.]
[i]She taps him with her umbrella.[/i]
Zis American air makes ze Baron so sleepy.
This American air makes the Baron so sleepy.
BARON [Rises dazedly and bows]
BARON [Stands up, dazed, and bows]
BARONESS
BARONESS
Pappelmeister! You remember ze great Pappelmeister.
Pappelmeister! You remember the great Pappelmeister.
BARON [Waking up, becomes keen]
BARON [Waking up, gets focused]
Ah, yes, yes, charmed—why do you never bring your orchestra to Russia, Herr Pappelmeister?
Ah, yes, yes, enchanted—why do you never bring your orchestra to Russia, Mr. Pappelmeister?
PAPPELMEISTER [Surprised]
PAPPELMEISTER [Shocked]
Russia? It never occurred to me to go to Russia—she seems so uncivilised.
Russia? I never thought about going there—she seems so uncivilized.
BARONESS [Angry]
BARONESS [Furious]
Uncivilised! Vy, ve have ze finest restaurants in ze vorld! And ze best telephones!
Uncivilized! We have the best restaurants in the world! And the best phones!
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPER MASTER
So?
So?
BARONESS
BARONESS
Yes, and the most beautiful ballets—Russia is affrightfully misunderstood.
Yes, and the most beautiful ballets—Russia is terribly misunderstood.
[She sweeps away in burning indignation. Pappelmeister murmurs in deprecation. Re-enter Vera from the hall. She is gay and happy.]
She storms off in a blaze of anger. Paper Master mutters in disapproval. Vera re-enters from the hall, cheerful and content.
VERA
VERA
He is coming round at once——
He’s on his way now—
[She utters a cry of pleased surprise.]
She lets out a cry of happy surprise.
Herr Pappelmeister! This is indeed a pleasure!
Mr. Pappelmeister! This is truly a pleasure!
[Pg 132][She gives Pappelmeister her hand, which he kisses.]
[Pg 132][She extends her hand to Papel Master, and he kisses it.]
BARONESS [Sotto voce to the Baron]
BARONESS [In a low voice to the Baron]
Let us go before he comes.
Let’s leave before he gets here.
[The Baron ignores her, his eyes hungrily on Vera.]
The Baron ignores her, his eyes eagerly on Vera.
PAPPELMEISTER [To Vera]
PAPPELMEISTER [To Vera]
But I come again—you have visitors.
But I'm back again—you have guests.
VERA [Smiling]
VERA [Smiling]
Only my father and——
Only my dad and——
PAPPELMEISTER [Surprised]
PAPPELMEISTER [Shocked]
Your fader? Ach so!
Your fader? Got it!
[He taps his forehead.]
He taps his head.
Revendal!
Revendal!
BARONESS [Sotto voce to the Baron]
BARONESS [Whispers to the Baron]
I vill not meet a Jew, I tell you.
I will not meet a Jew, I tell you.
PAPPELMEISTER
Papel Master
But you vill vant to talk to your fader, and all I vant is Mr. Quixano's address. De Irish maiden at de house says de bird is flown.
But you'll want to talk to your father, and all I want is Mr. Quixano's address. The Irish girl at the house says the bird has flown.
VERA [Gravely]
VERA [Gravely]
I don't know if I ought to tell you where the new nest is——
I don't know if I should tell you where the new nest is——
PAPPELMEISTER [Disappointed]
PAPPELMEISTER [Let down]
Ach!
Ugh!
VERA [Smiling]
VERA [Smiling]
PAPPELMEISTER [Looks round]
PAPPELMEISTER [Scans the room]
You vill broduce Mr. Quixano?
You will introduce Mr. Quixano?
VERA [Merrily]
VERA [Happily]
By clapping my hands.
By clapping my hands.
[Mysteriously]
Mysteriously
I am a magician.
I'm a magician.
BARON [Whose eyes have been glued on Vera]
BARON [Whose eyes have been fixed on Vera]
You are, indeed! I don't know how you have bewitched me.
You really are! I have no idea how you’ve enchanted me.
[The Baroness glares at him.]
The Baroness glares at him.
VERA
VERA
Dear little father!
Dear dad!
[She crosses to him and strokes his hair.]
[i]She walks over to him and gently runs her fingers through his hair.[/i]
Herr Pappelmeister, tell father about Mr. Quixano's music.
Mr. Pappelmeister, please tell my dad about Mr. Quixano's music.
PAPPELMEISTER [Shaking his head]
PAPPELMEISTER [Shakes his head]
Music cannot be talked about.
Music is beyond words.
VERA [Smiling]
VERA [Smiling]
That's a nasty one for the critics. But tell father what a genius Da—Mr. Quixano is.
That's a tough one for the critics. But tell Dad what a genius Mr. Quixano is.
BARONESS [Desperately intervening]
BARONESS [Urgently intervening]
Good-bye, Vera.
Goodbye, Vera.
[She thrusts out her hand, which Vera takes.]
She reaches out her hand, which Vera takes.
I have a headache. You muz excuse me. Herr Pappelmeister, au plaisir de vous revoir.
I have a headache. You must excuse me. Mr. Pappelmeister, it's a pleasure to see you again.
[Pg 134][Pappelmeister hastens to the door, which he holds open. The Baroness turns and glares at the Baron.]
[Pg 134][Papel Master rushes to the door and holds it open. The Baroness turns and shoots a glare at the Baron.]
BARON [Agitated]
BARON [Upset]
Let me see you to the auto——
Let me take you to the car—
BARONESS
BARONESS
You could see me to ze hotel almost as quick.
You could take me to the hotel almost as quickly.
BARON [To Vera]
BARON [To Vera]
I won't say good-bye, Verotschka—I shall be back.
I won’t say goodbye, Verotschka—I’ll be back.
[He goes toward the hall, then turns.]
[i]He walks toward the hallway, then turns.[/i]
You will keep your Rubinstein waiting?
You’re really going to keep your Rubinstein waiting?
[Vera smiles lovingly.]
Vera smiles affectionately.
BARONESS
BARONESS
You are keeping me vaiting.
You are keeping me waiting.
[He turns quickly. Exeunt Baron and Baroness.]
[He turns quickly. Exit Baron and Baroness.]
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPERMASTER
And now broduce Mr. Quixano!
And now, introduce Mr. Quixano!
VERA
VERA
Not so fast. What are you going to do with him?
Not so fast. What are you going to do with him?
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPER MASTER
Put him in my orchestra!
Put him in my band!
VERA [Ecstatic]
VERA [Thrilled]
Oh, you dear!
Oh, you sweetheart!
[Then her tone changes to disappointment.]
[Then her tone shifts to disappointment.]
But he won't go into Mr. Davenport's orchestra.
But he won't join Mr. Davenport's orchestra.
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPER MASTER
It is no more Mr. Davenport's orchestra. He fired[Pg 135] me, don't you remember? Now I boss—how say you in American?
It's not Mr. Davenport's orchestra anymore. He fired[Pg 135] me, don't you remember? Now I'm in charge—how do you say that in American?
VERA [Smiling]
VERA [Grinning]
Your own show.
Your own series.
PAPPELMEISTER
Papel Master
Ja, my own band. Ven I left dat comic opera millionaire, dey all shtick to me almost to von man.
Yeah, my own band. When I left that comic opera millionaire, they all stuck to me almost like one person.
VERA
VERA
How nice of them!
How sweet of them!
PAPPELMEISTER
Papel Master
All egsept de Christian—he vas de von man. He shtick to de millionaire. So I lose my brincipal first violin.
All except the Christian—he was the one man. He stuck to the millionaire. So I lost my principal first violin.
VERA
VERA
And Mr. Quixano is to—oh, how delightful!
And Mr. Quixano is to—oh, how wonderful!
[She claps her hands girlishly.]
She claps her hands excitedly.
PAPPELMEISTER [Looks round mischievously]
PAPPELMEISTER [Glances around playfully]
Ach, de magic failed.
Ah, the magic failed.
VERA [Puzzled]
VERA [Confused]
Eh!
Eh!
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPERMASTER
You do not broduce him. You clap de hands—but you do not broduce him. Ha! Ha! Ha!
You don't introduce him. You clap your hands—but you don't introduce him. Ha! Ha! Ha!
[Pg 136][He breaks into a great roar of genial laughter.]
[Pg 136][He bursts into a loud, cheerful laugh.]
VERA [Chiming in merrily]
VERA [Joining in cheerfully]
Ha! Ha! Ha! But I said I have to know everything first. Will he get a good salary?
Ha! Ha! Ha! But I said I need to know everything first. Will he get a good salary?
PAPPELMEISTER
Papel Master
Enough to keep a vife and eight children!
Enough to support a wife and eight kids!
VERA [Blushing]
VERA [Blushing]
But he hasn't a——
But he doesn't have a——
PAPPELMEISTER
Papel Master
No, but de Christian had—he get de same—I mean salary, ha! ha! ha! not children. Den he can be independent—vedder de fool-public like his American symphony or not—nicht wahr?
No, but de Christian had—he gets the same—I mean salary, ha! ha! ha! not children. Then he can be independent—whether the foolish public likes his American symphony or not—right?
VERA
VERA
You are good to us——
You're good to us——
[Hastily correcting herself]
Hastily correcting herself
to Mr. Quixano.
to Mr. Quixano.
PAPPELMEISTER [Smiling]
PAPPELMEISTER [Smiling]
And aldough you cannot broduce him, I broduce his symphony. Was?
And although you cannot produce him, I produce his symphony. What?
VERA
VERA
Oh, Herr Pappelmeister! You are an angel.
Oh, Mr. Pappelmeister! You’re an angel.
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPER MASTER
Nein, nein, mein liebes Kind! I fear I haf not de correct shape for an angel.
No, no, my dear child! I fear I do not have the right figure for an angel.
[Pg 137][He laughs heartily. A knock at the door from the hall.]
[Pg 137][He's laughing loudly. There's a knock at the door from the hallway.]
VERA [Merrily]
VERA [Merrily]
Now I clap my hands.
Now I clap my hands.
[She claps.]
She applauds.
Come!
Come on!
[The door opens.]
The door opens.
Behold him!
Check him out!
[She makes a conjurer's gesture. David, bare-headed, carrying his fiddle, opens the door, and stands staring in amazement at Pappelmeister.]
[i>She makes a magical gesture. David, hatless and holding his fiddle, opens the door and stares in shock at Paper Master.]
DAVID
DAVID
I thought you asked me to meet your father.
I thought you asked me to meet your dad.
PAPPELMEISTER
Papel Master
She is a magician. She has changed us.
She’s a magician. She has transformed us.
[He waves his umbrella.]
He waves his umbrella.
Hey presto, was? Ha! Ha! Ha!
Hey, just like that, was? Ha! Ha! Ha!
[He goes to David, and shakes hands.]
He walks over to David and shakes his hand.
Und wie geht's? I hear you've left home.
How's it going? I heard you've moved out.
DAVID
DAVID
Yes, but I've such a bully cabin——
Yes, but I have such a cramped cabin—
PAPPELMEISTER [Alarmed]
PAPPELMEISTER [Concerned]
You are sailing avay?
You are sailing away?
VERA [Laughing]
VERA [Laughing]
No, no—that's only his way of describing his two-dollar-a-month garret.
No, no—that's just his way of talking about his $2-a-month attic room.
DAVID
DAVID
VERA [Smiling]
VERA [Smiling]
Six foot square.
Six-foot square.
DAVID
DAVID
But three other passengers aren't squeezed in, and it never pitches and tosses. It's heavenly.
But three other passengers aren't crammed in, and it never sways or bounces. It's amazing.
PAPPELMEISTER [Smiling]
PAPPELMEISTER [Smiling]
And from heaven you flew down to blay in dat beer-hall. Was?
And from heaven, you came down to play in that beer hall. What?
[David looks surprised.]
David looks surprised.
I heard you.
I heard you.
DAVID
DAVID
You! What on earth did you go there for?
You! What on earth did you go there for?
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPER MASTER
Vat on earth does one go to a beer-hall for? Ha! Ha! Ha! For vawter! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ven I hear you blay, I dink mit myself—if my blans succeed and I get Carnegie Hall for Saturday Symphony Concerts, dat boy shall be one of my first violins. Was?
Vat on earth does one go to a beer hall for? Ha! Ha! Ha! For water! Ha! Ha! Ha! When I hear you play, I think to myself—if my plans succeed and I get Carnegie Hall for Saturday Symphony Concerts, that guy will be one of my first violins. What?
[He slaps David on the left shoulder.]
He taps David on the shoulder.
DAVID [Overwhelmed, ecstatic, yet wincing a little at the slap on his wound.]
DAVID [Overwhelmed, ecstatic, but flinching slightly at the sting on his injury.]
Be one of your first——
Be one of the first——
[Remembering]
[Memories]
Oh, but it is impossible.
Oh, but that's impossible.
VERA [Alarmed]
VERA [Concerned]
DAVID
DAVID
But does Herr Pappelmeister know about the wound in my shoulder?
But does Mr. Pappelmeister know about the injury in my shoulder?
PAPPELMEISTER [Agitated]
PAPPELMEISTER [Upset]
You haf been vounded?
You have been wounded?
DAVID
DAVID
Only a legacy from Russia—but it twinges in some weathers.
Only a legacy from Russia—but it stings in certain weathers.
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPER MASTER
And de pain ubsets your blaying?
And does the pain upset your playing?
DAVID
DAVID
Not so much the pain—it's all the dreadful memories—
Not so much the pain—it's all the terrible memories—
VERA [Alarmed]
VERA [Worried]
Don't talk of them.
Don't mention them.
DAVID
DAVID
I must explain to Herr Pappelmeister—it wouldn't be fair. Even now
I have to explain to Herr Pappelmeister—it wouldn't be fair. Even now
[Shuddering]
[Shivering]
there comes up before me the bleeding body of my mother, the cold, fiendish face of the Russian officer, supervising the slaughter——
there comes up before me the bloody body of my mother, the cold, evil face of the Russian officer, overseeing the massacre——
VERA
VERA
Hush! Hush![Pg 140]
Hush! Hush!
DAVID [Hysterically]
DAVID [Laughing uncontrollably]
Oh, that butcher's face—there it is—hovering in the air, that narrow, fanatical forehead, that——
Oh, that butcher's face—there it is—hovering in the air, that narrow, intense forehead, that——
PAPPELMEISTER [Brings down his umbrella with a bang]
PAPPELMEISTER [slams his umbrella]
Schluss! No man ever dared break down under me. My baton will beat avay all dese faces and fancies. Out with your violin!
Enough! No man has ever dared to give in to me. My baton will drive away all these faces and distractions. Get your violin out!
[He taps his umbrella imperiously on the table.]
He bangs his umbrella on the table in a commanding way.
Keinen Mut verlieren!
Don't lose hope!
[David takes out his violin from its case and puts it to his shoulder, Pappelmeister keeping up a hypnotic torrent of encouraging German cries.]
[i][David takes his violin out of the case and places it on his shoulder, Papel Master maintaining a mesmerizing stream of supportive German exclamations.]
Also! Fertig! Anfangen!
Done! Start!
[He raises and waves his umbrella like a baton.]
He lifts and waves his umbrella like a conductor's baton.
Von, dwo, dree, four——
One, two, three, four——
DAVID [With a great sigh of relief]
DAVID [Letting out a huge breath of relief]
Thanks, thanks—they are gone already.
Thanks, thanks—they're already gone.
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPER MASTER
Ha! Ha! Ha! You see. And ven ve blay your American symphony——
Ha! Ha! Ha! You see. And when we play your American symphony——
DAVID [Dazed]
DAVID [Confused]
You will play my American symphony?
Are you going to play my American symphony?
VERA [Disappointed]
VERA [Let down]
DAVID [Still dazed but ecstatic]
DAVID [Still dazed but thrilled]
Herr Pappelmeister!
Mr. Pappelmeister!
[Changing back to despondency]
[Returning to sadness]
But what certainty is there your Carnegie Hall audience would understand me? It would be the same smart set.
But how can I be sure that your Carnegie Hall audience would get me? It would be the same elitist crowd.
[He drops dejectedly into a chair and lays down his violin.]
He sinks into a chair with a heavy heart and puts down his violin.
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPER MASTER
Ach, nein. Of course, some—ve can't keep peoble out merely because dey pay for deir seats. Was?
Oh, no. Of course, some—we can't keep people out just because they pay for their seats. What?
[He laughs.]
He’s laughing.
DAVID
DAVID
It was always my dream to play it first to the new immigrants—those who have known the pain of the old world and the hope of the new.
It was always my dream to play it first for the new immigrants—those who have experienced the struggles of the old world and the optimism of the new.
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPER MASTER
Try it on the dog. Was?
Try it on the dog. Was?
DAVID
DAVID
Yes—on the dog that here will become a man!
Yes—on the dog that will become a man here!
PAPPELMEISTER [Shakes his head]
PAPPELMEISTER [Shakes his head]
I fear neider dogs nor men are a musical breed.
I fear neither dogs nor men are a musical group.
DAVID
DAVID
The immigrants will not understand my music with their brains or their ears, but with their hearts and their souls.[Pg 142]
The immigrants won’t understand my music with their minds or their ears, but with their hearts and their souls.[Pg 142]
VERA
VERA
Well, then, why shouldn't it be done here—on our Roof-Garden?
Well, then, why shouldn't we do it here—on our Roof-Garden?
DAVID [Jumping up]
DAVID [Leaping up]
A Bas-Kôl! A Bas-Kôl!
A Bas-Kôl! A Bas-Kôl!
VERA
VERA
What are you talking?
What are you talking about?
DAVID
DAVID
Hebrew! It means a voice from heaven.
Hebrew! It means a voice from heaven.
VERA
VERA
Ah, but will Herr Pappelmeister consent?
Ah, but will Mr. Pappelmeister agree?
PAPPELMEISTER [Bowing]
PAPPELMEISTER [Bowing]
Who can disobey a voice from heaven?... But ven?
Who can ignore a voice from heaven?... But then?
VERA
VERA
On some holiday evening.... Why not the Fourth of July?
On a holiday evening.... How about the Fourth of July?
DAVID [Still more ecstatic]
DAVID [Even more thrilled]
Another Bas-Kôl!... My American Symphony! Played to the People! Under God's sky! On Independence Day! With all the——
Another Bas-Kôl!... My American Symphony! Played for the People! Under God's sky! On Independence Day! With all the——
[Waving his hand expressively, sighs voluptuously.]
[Waving his hand dramatically, he sighs with a sense of longing.]
That will be too perfect.
That will be too ideal.
PAPPELMEISTER [Smiling]
PAPPELMEISTER [Smiling]
Dat has to be seen. You must permit me to invite—[Pg 143]—
Dat has to be seen. You have to let me invite—[Pg 143]—
DAVID [In horror]
DAVID [In shock]
Not the musical critics!
Not the music critics!
PAPPELMEISTER [Raising both hands with umbrella in equal horror]
PAPPELMEISTER [Raising both hands with the umbrella in equal fear]
Gott bewahre! But I'd like to invite all de persons in New York who really undershtand music.
Good heavens! But I'd like to invite all the people in New York who really understand music.
VERA
VERA
Splendid! But should we have room?
Splendid! But do we have enough space?
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPPELMEISTER
Room? I vant four blaces.
Room? I want four spaces.
VERA [Smiling]
VERA [Smiling]
You are severe! Mr. Davenport was right.
You are harsh! Mr. Davenport was right.
PAPPELMEISTER [Smiling]
PAPPELMEISTER [Smiling]
Perhaps de oders vill be out of town. Also!
Perhaps the others will be out of town. Also!
[Holding out his hand to David]
[Reaching out to David]
You come to Carnegie to-morrow at eleven. Yes? Fräulein.
You’re coming to Carnegie tomorrow at eleven, right? Miss.
[Kisses her hand.]
Kisses her hand.
Auf Wiedersehen!
Goodbye!
[Going]
Going
On de Roof-Garden—nicht wahr?
On the Roof Garden—right?
VERA [Smiling]
VERA [Smiling]
Wind and weather permitting.
Weather permitting.
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPPELMEISTER
I haf alvays mein umbrella. Was? Ha! Ha! Ha![Pg 144]
I always have my umbrella. What? Ha! Ha! Ha![Pg 144]
VERA [Murmuring]
VERA [Mumbling]
Isn't he a darling? Isn't he——?
Isn't he cute? Isn't he——?
PAPPELMEISTER [Pausing suddenly]
PAPPELMEISTER [Stops abruptly]
But ve never settled de salary.
But we've never agreed on the salary.
DAVID
DAVID
Salary!
Pay!
[He looks dazedly from one to the other.]
He looks confused as he glances between them.
For the honour of playing in your orchestra!
For the honor of playing in your orchestra!
PAPPELMEISTER
Papel Master
Shylock!!... Never mind—ve settle de pound of flesh to-morrow. Lebe wohl!
Shylock!!... Never mind—let's settle the pound of flesh tomorrow. Farewell!
[Exit, the door closes.]
[Exit, the door shuts.]
VERA [Suddenly miserable]
VERA [Instantly unhappy]
How selfish of you, David!
How selfish of you, David!
DAVID
DAVID
Selfish, Vera?
Selfish, Vera?
VERA
VERA
Yes—not to think of your salary. It looks as if you didn't really love me.
Yes—not thinking about your salary. It seems like you didn't really love me.
DAVID
DAVID
Not love you? I don't understand.
Not love you? I don’t get it.
VERA [Half in tears]
VERA [About to cry]
Just when I was so happy to think that now we shall be able to marry.[Pg 145]
Just when I was so happy to think that now we can finally get married.[Pg 145]
DAVID
DAVID
Shall we? Marry? On my salary as first violin?
Shall we? Get married? With my salary as first violin?
VERA
VERA
Not if you don't want to.
Not if you don't want to.
DAVID
DAVID
Sweetheart! Can it be true? How do you know?
Sweetheart! Could it really be true? How do you know?
VERA [Smiling]
VERA [Grinning]
I'm not a Jew. I asked.
I'm not Jewish. I asked.
DAVID
DAVID
My guardian angel!
My guardian angel!
[Embracing her. He sits down, she lovingly at his feet.]
[i>Embracing her. He sits down, and she lovingly sits at his feet.]
VERA [Looking up at him]
VERA [Gazing up at him]
Then you do care?
So you care?
DAVID
DAVID
What a question!
What a question!
VERA
VERA
And you don't think wholly of your music and forget me?
And you don't get so caught up in your music that you forget about me?
DAVID
DAVID
Why, you are behind all I write and play!
Why, you're the reason for everything I write and perform!
VERA [With jealous passion]
VERA [With jealous desire]
Behind? But I want to be before! I want you to love me first, before everything.[Pg 146]
Behind? But I want to be ahead! I want you to love me first, before everything.[Pg 146]
DAVID
DAVID
I do put you before everything.
I prioritize you above everything else.
VERA
VERA
You are sure? And nothing shall part us?
You’re sure? And nothing will separate us?
DAVID
DAVID
Not all the seven seas could part you and me.
Not even the seven seas could separate you and me.
VERA
VERA
And you won't grow tired of me—not even when you are world-famous——?
And you won't get sick of me—not even when you're famous worldwide?
DAVID [A shade petulant]
DAVID [A bit annoyed]
Sweetheart, considering I should owe it all to you——
Sweetheart, I feel like I owe it all to you——
VERA [Drawing his head down to her breast]
VERA [Pulling his head down to her chest]
Oh, David! David! Don't be angry with poor little Vera if she doubts, if she wants to feel quite sure. You see father has talked so terribly, and after all I was brought up in the Greek Church, and we oughtn't to cause all this suffering unless——
Oh, David! David! Please don't be upset with poor little Vera if she doubts or wants to feel completely certain. You see, Dad has said some really intense things, and after all, I was raised in the Greek Church, and we shouldn’t create all this pain unless——
DAVID
DAVID
Those who love us must suffer, and we must suffer in their suffering. It is live things, not dead metals, that are being melted in the Crucible.
Those who love us have to suffer, and we have to suffer in their suffering. It is living beings, not dead metals, that are being melted in the Crucible.
VERA
VERA
Still, we ought to soften the suffering as much as——
Still, we should ease the suffering as much as——
DAVID
DAVID
VERA [With transition to happiness]
VERA [On the path to happiness]
But father seems half-reconciled already! Dear little father, if only he were not so narrow about Holy Russia!
But Dad seems halfway to being okay with it already! Dear little Dad, if only he weren't so tight-minded about Holy Russia!
DAVID
DAVID
If only my folks were not so narrow about Holy Judea! But the ideals of the fathers shall not be foisted on the children. Each generation must live and die for its own dream.
If only my parents weren't so close-minded about Holy Judea! But the ideals of the parents shouldn't be forced onto the children. Each generation has to live and die for its own dream.
VERA
VERA
Yes, David, yes. You are the prophet of the living present. I am so happy.
Yes, David, yes. You are the voice of the here and now. I'm so happy.
[She looks up wistfully.]
She gazes up longingly.
You are happy, too?
Are you happy, too?
DAVID
DAVID
I am dazed—I cannot realise that all our troubles have melted away—it is so sudden.
I’m stunned—I can’t believe that all our problems have disappeared—it’s so unexpected.
VERA
VERA
You, David? Who always see everything in such rosy colours? Now that the whole horizon is one great splendid rose, you almost seem as if gazing out toward a blackness——
You, David? Who always sees everything so positively? Now that the entire horizon is a beautiful rose, you almost look like you're staring out into darkness——
DAVID
DAVID
We Jews are cheerful in gloom, mistrustful in joy. It is our tragic history——
We Jews tend to find happiness even in dark times and can be skeptical during moments of joy. It’s part of our tragic history——
VERA
VERA
But you have come to end the tragic history; to throw off the coils of the centuries.[Pg 148]
But you have come to put an end to the tragic history; to break free from the burdens of the centuries.[Pg 148]
DAVID [Smiling again]
DAVID [Smiling once more]
Yes, yes, Vera. You bring back my sunnier self. I must be a pioneer on the lost road of happiness. To-day shall be all joy, all lyric ecstasy.
Yes, yes, Vera. You bring back my happier self. I must be a trailblazer on the forgotten path to happiness. Today will be all joy, all lyrical ecstasy.
[He takes up his violin.]
He picks up his violin.
Yes, I will make my old fiddle-strings burst with joy!
Yes, I will make my old fiddle strings burst with joy!
[He dashes into a jubilant tarantella. After a few bars there is a knock at the door leading from the hall; their happy faces betray no sign of hearing it; then the door slightly opens, and Baron Revendal's head looks hesitatingly in. As David perceives it, his features work convulsively, his string breaks with a tragic snap, and he totters backward into Vera's arms. Hoarsely]
He bursts into a lively tarantella. After a few measures, there's a knock at the door from the hall; their joyful faces show no sign of hearing it; then the door opens slightly, and Baron Revendal's head peeks in hesitantly. As David notices it, his expression twists in shock, his string snaps dramatically, and he stumbles backward into Vera's arms. Hoarsely
The face! The face!
The face! The face!
VERA
VERA
David—my dearest!
David—my darling!
DAVID [His eyes closed, his violin clasped mechanically]
DAVID [His eyes shut, his violin held tightly]
Don't be anxious—I shall be better soon—I oughtn't to have talked about it—the hallucination has never been so complete.
Don't worry—I'll be okay soon—I shouldn't have mentioned it—the hallucination has never felt this real.
VERA
VERA
Don't speak—rest against Vera's heart—till it has passed away.
Don't say anything—just lean against Vera's heart—until it has stopped beating.
[The Baron comes dazedly forward, half with a shocked sense of Vera's impropriety, half to relieve her of her burden. She motions him back.]
[i]The Baron steps forward, a bit stunned, partly shocked by Vera's rudeness, and partly to help her with her load. She gestures for him to step back.[/i]
BARON [Harshly]
BARON [In a blunt manner]
What is the matter with him?
What’s wrong with him?
[David's violin and bow drop from his grasp and fall on the table.]
[i][David's violin and bow slip from his hands and land on the table.]
DAVID
DAVID
The voice!
The voice!
[He opens his eyes, stares frenziedly at the Baron, then struggles out of Vera's arms.]
[He opens his eyes, frantically looks at the Baron, then pushes himself away from Vera's embrace.]
VERA [Trying to stop him]
VERA [Trying to stop him]
Dearest——
Dear——
DAVID
DAVID
Let me go.
Let me leave.
[He moves like a sleep-walker toward the paralysed Baron, puts out his hand, and testingly touches the face.]
He moves like a sleepwalker toward the paralyzed Baron, reaches out his hand, and cautiously touches the face.
BARON [Shuddering back]
BARON [Recoiling]
Hands off!
Hands off!
DAVID [With a great cry]
DAVID [With a loud shout]
A-a-a-h! It is flesh and blood. No, it is stone—the man of stone! Monster!
A-a-a-h! It’s flesh and blood. No, it’s stone—the stone man! Monster!
[He raises his hand frenziedly.]
He raises his hand wildly.
BARON [Whipping out his pistol]
BARON [Drawing his gun]
Back, dog!
Back off, dog!
DAVID [Frozen again, surveying the pistol stonily]
DAVID [Frozen again, staring at the pistol blankly]
Ha! You want my life, too. Is the cry not yet loud enough?
Ha! You want my life, too. Is the shout not loud enough yet?
BARON
Nobleman
The cry?
The shout?
DAVID [Mystically]
DAVID [Spiritually]
Can you not hear it? The voice of the blood of my brothers crying out against you from the ground? Oh, how can you bear not to turn that pistol against yourself and execute upon yourself the justice which Russia denies you?
Can you not hear it? The voice of the blood of my brothers crying out against you from the ground? Oh, how can you stand to not turn that gun on yourself and serve the justice that Russia denies you?
BARON
LORD
Tush!
No way!
[Pocketing the pistol a little shamefacedly.]
[Putting the pistol away a bit sheepishly.]
VERA
VERA
Justice on himself? For what?
Vigilante justice? Why?
DAVID
DAVID
For crimes beyond human penalty, for obscenities beyond human utterance, for——
For crimes that go beyond human punishment, for atrocities that are beyond human description, for——
VERA
VERA
You are raving.
You're raving.
DAVID
DAVID
VERA
VERA
But this is my father.
But this is my dad.
DAVID
DAVID
Your father!... God!
Your dad!... Oh my God!
[He staggers.]
He stumbles.
BARON [Drawing her to him]
BARON [Pulling her close]
Come, Vera, I told you——
Come on, Vera, I told you—
VERA [Frantically, shrinking back]
VERA [Panic-stricken, recoiling]
Don't touch me!
Don't touch me!
BARON [Starting back in amaze]
BARON [Starting back in awe]
Vera!
Vera!
VERA [Hoarsely]
VERA [In a raspy voice]
Say it's not true.
Say it’s not true.
BARON
BARON
What is not true?
What isn't true?
VERA
VERA
What David said. It was the mob that massacred—you had no hand in it.
What David said. It was the mob that carried out the massacre—you had nothing to do with it.
BARON [Sullenly]
BARON [Moody]
I was there with my soldiers.
I was there with my troops.
DAVID [Leaning, pale, against a chair, hisses]
DAVID [Leaning, pale, against a chair, hisses]
And you looked on with that cold face of hate—while my mother—my sister—[Pg 152]—
And you looked on with that cold face of hate—while my mom—my sister—[Pg 152]—
BARON [Sullenly]
BARON [Moody]
I could not see everything.
I couldn't see everything.
DAVID
DAVID
Now and again you ordered your soldiers to fire——
Now and then, you commanded your soldiers to shoot—
VERA [In joyous relief]
VERA [With joyful relief]
Ah, he did check the mob—he did tell his soldiers to fire.
Ah, he did check the crowd—he did tell his soldiers to shoot.
DAVID
DAVID
At any Jew who tried to defend himself.
At any Jew who tried to defend themselves.
VERA
VERA
Great God!
Oh my God!
[She falls on the sofa and buries her head on the cushion, moaning]
She collapses on the sofa and buries her head in the cushion, moaning
Is there no pity in heaven?
Is there no compassion in heaven?
DAVID
DAVID
There was no pity on earth.
There was no compassion on earth.
BARON
LORD
It was the People avenging itself, Vera. The People rose like a flood. It had centuries of spoliation to wipe out. The voice of the People is the voice of God.
It was the People getting back at themselves, Vera. The People rose up like a wave. They had centuries of wrongs to right. The voice of the People is the voice of God.
VERA [Moaning]
VERA [Sighing]
BARON
Noble
I had no orders to defend the foes of Christ and
I had no orders to defend the enemies of Christ and
[Crossing himself]
[Making the sign of the cross]
the Tsar. The People——
the Tsar. The People—
VERA
VERA
But you could have stopped them.
But you could have stopped them.
BARON
Nobleman
Who can stop a flood? I did my duty. A soldier's duty is not so pretty as a musician's.
Who can stop a flood? I did my part. A soldier's responsibility isn't as glamorous as a musician's.
VERA
VERA
But you could have stopped them.
But you could have stopped them.
BARON [Losing all patience]
BARON [Completely losing patience]
Silence! You talk like an ignorant girl, blinded by passion. The pogrom is a holy crusade. Are we Russians the first people to crush down the Jew? No—from the dawn of history the nations have had to stamp upon him—the Egyptians, the Assyrians, the Persians, the Babylonians, the Greeks, the Romans——
Silence! You speak like an uninformed girl, blinded by your emotions. The pogrom is a sacred mission. Have we Russians been the first to oppress the Jews? No—from the beginning of history, nations have had to subdue them—the Egyptians, the Assyrians, the Persians, the Babylonians, the Greeks, the Romans——
DAVID
DAVID
Yes, it is true. Even Christianity did not invent hatred. But not till Holy Church arose were we burnt at the stake, and not till Holy Russia arose were our babes torn limb from limb. Oh, it is too much! Delivered from Egypt four thousand years ago, to be slaves to the Russian Pharaoh to-day.
Yes, it’s true. Even Christianity didn’t create hatred. But it wasn’t until the Holy Church came into power that we were burned at the stake, and it wasn’t until Holy Russia emerged that our babies were torn apart. Oh, it’s too much! We were freed from Egypt four thousand years ago, only to become slaves to the Russian Pharaoh today.
[Pg 154][He falls as if kneeling on a chair, and, leans his head on the rail.]
[Pg 154][He collapses like he's kneeling on a chair and rests his head on the rail.]
O God, shall we always be broken on the wheel of history? How long, O Lord, how long?
O God, will we always be stuck in the painful cycle of history? How long, Lord, how long?
BARON [Savagely]
BARON [Brutally]
Till you are all stamped out, ground into your dirt.
Till you are all stamped out, crushed into your dirt.
[Tenderly]
[Tenderly]
Look up, little Vera! You saw how papasha loves you—how he was ready to hold out his hand—and how this cur tried to bite it. Be calm—tell him a daughter of Russia cannot mate with dirt.
Look up, little Vera! You saw how papasha loves you—how he was ready to reach out his hand—and how that cur tried to bite it. Stay calm—tell him a daughter of Russia cannot associate with trash.
VERA
VERA
Father, I will be calm. I will speak without passion or blindness. I will tell David the truth. I was never absolutely sure of my love for him—perhaps that was why I doubted his love for me—often after our enchanted moments there would come a nameless uneasiness, some vague instinct, relic of the long centuries of Jew-loathing, some strange shrinking from his Christless creed——
Father, I will stay composed. I will speak without emotion or bias. I will tell David the truth. I was never completely sure of my love for him—maybe that’s why I questioned his love for me—often after our magical moments, there would be a nameless uneasiness, some vague feeling, a remnant of centuries of anti-Semitism, some strange aversion to his non-Christian beliefs—
BARON [With an exultant cry]
BARON [With a triumphant shout]
Ah! She is a Revendal.
Ah! She’s a Revendal.
VERA
VERA
But now——
But now—
[She rises and walks firmly toward David]
She stands up and strides confidently toward David
now, David, I come to you, and I say in the words of Ruth, thy people shall be my people and thy God my God!
Now, David, I come to you, and I say in the words of Ruth, your people shall be my people and your God my God!
BARON
Baron
You shameless——!
You shameless person!
[He stops as he perceives David remains impassive.]
He stops as he notices David is still unmoved.
VERA [With agonised cry]
VERA [With a pained cry]
David!
David!
DAVID [In low, icy tones]
DAVID [In a cold tone]
You cannot come to me. There is a river of blood between us.
You can't come to me. There's a river of blood separating us.
VERA
VERA
Were it seven seas, our love must cross them.
Were it seven seas, our love would cross them.
DAVID
DAVID
Easy words to you. You never saw that red flood bearing the mangled breasts of women and the spattered brains of babes and sucklings. Oh!
Easy words for you. You never witnessed that red flood carrying the mutilated bodies of women and the splattered brains of infants and young children. Oh!
[He covers his eyes with his hands. The Baron turns away in gloomy impotence. At last David begins to speak quietly, almost dreamily.]
[i]He covers his eyes with his hands. The Baron turns away in gloomy frustration. Finally, David starts to speak softly, almost like he’s in a dream.[/i]
It was your Easter, and the air was full of holy bells and the streets of holy processions—priests in black and girls in white and waving palms and crucifixes, and everybody exchanging Easter eggs and kissing one another three times on the mouth in token of peace and goodwill, and even the Jew-boy felt the spirit of love brooding over the earth, though he did not then know that this Christ, whom holy chants proclaimed re-risen, was born in the form of a brother[Pg 156] Jew. And what added to the peace and holy joy was that our own Passover was shining before us. My mother had already made the raisin wine, and my greedy little brother Solomon had sipped it on the sly that very morning. We were all at home—all except my father—he was away in the little Synagogue at which he was cantor. Ah, such a voice he had—a voice of tears and thunder—when he prayed it was like a wounded soul beating at the gates of Heaven—but he sang even more beautifully in the ritual of home, and how we were looking forward to his hymns at the Passover table——
It was your Easter, and the air was filled with holy bells and the streets were alive with holy processions—priests in black, girls in white, waving palms and crucifixes, everyone exchanging Easter eggs and kissing each other three times on the mouth as a sign of peace and goodwill. Even the Jewish boy felt the spirit of love hovering over the earth, although he didn’t yet realize that this Christ, whom the holy chants proclaimed as resurrected, was born as a brother[Pg 156] Jew. What made the peace and holy joy even better was that our own Passover was just ahead. My mother had already made the raisin wine, and my eager little brother Solomon had sneaked a sip that very morning. We were all at home—all except my father—who was at the little synagogue where he was the cantor. Ah, what a voice he had—a voice full of emotion and power—when he prayed it was like a wounded soul pounding on the gates of Heaven—but he sang even more beautifully during our family rituals, and we were all looking forward to his hymns at the Passover table——
[He breaks down. The Baron has gradually turned round under the spell of David's story and now listens hypnotised.]
He falls apart. The Baron has slowly turned around under the influence of David's story and now listens in a trance.
I was playing my cracked little fiddle. Little Miriam was making her doll dance to it. Ah, that decrepit old china doll—the only one the poor child had ever had—I can see it now—one eye, no nose, half an arm. We were all laughing to see it caper to my music.... My father flies in through the door, desperately clasping to his breast the Holy Scroll. We cry out to him to explain, and then we see that in that beloved mouth of song there is no longer a tongue—only blood. He tries to bar the door—a mob breaks in—we dash out through the back into the street. There are the soldiers—and the Face——
I was playing my old, damaged fiddle. Little Miriam was making her doll dance to the music. Ah, that worn-out china doll—the only one the poor girl ever had—I can picture it now—one eye, no nose, half an arm. We were all laughing as we watched it move to my music.... My father bursts through the door, desperately holding the Holy Scroll to his chest. We shout for him to explain, and then we notice that in that cherished mouth of song there is no longer a tongue—just blood. He tries to block the door—a mob rushes in—we run out through the back into the street. There are the soldiers—and the Face——
[Vera's eyes involuntarily seek the face of her father, who shrinks away as their eyes meet.]
Vera's eyes instinctively look for her father's face, but he pulls back as their eyes connect.
VERA [In a low sob]
VERA [In a soft cry]
DAVID
DAVID
When I came to myself, with a curious aching in my left shoulder, I saw lying beside me a strange shapeless Something....
When I came to, feeling a strange ache in my left shoulder, I saw a weird, shapeless thing lying next to me...
[David points weirdly to the floor, and Vera, hunched forwards, gazes stonily at it, as if seeing the horror.]
[i][David awkwardly points to the floor, and Vera, leaning forward, stares at it blankly, as if witnessing something terrifying.]
By the crimson doll in what seemed a hand I knew it must be little Miriam. The doll was a dream of beauty and perfection beside the mutilated mass which was all that remained of my sister, of my mother, of greedy little Solomon— Oh! You Christians can only see that rosy splendour on the horizon of happiness. And the Jew didn't see rosily enough for you, ha! ha! ha! the Jew who gropes in one great crimson mist.
By the crimson doll that looked like a hand, I realized it had to be little Miriam. The doll represented beauty and perfection next to the horrible sight of what was left of my sister, my mother, and greedy little Solomon— Oh! You Christians can only see that bright glow on the horizon of happiness. And the Jew didn’t see it as brightly as you do, ha! ha! ha! The Jew who feels lost in a thick crimson fog.
[He breaks down in spasmodic, ironic, long-drawn, terrible laughter.]
He erupts into fits of long, ironic, terrible laughter.
VERA [Trying vainly to tranquillise him]
VERA [Trying unsuccessfully to calm him down]
Hush, David! Your laughter hurts more than tears. Let Vera comfort you.
Hush, David! Your laughter hurts more than crying. Let Vera take care of you.
[She kneels by his chair, tries to put her arms round him.]
[i]She kneels by his chair, trying to wrap her arms around him.[/i]
DAVID [Shuddering]
DAVID [Trembling]
Take them away! Don't you feel the cold dead pushing between us?
Take them away! Don't you feel the cold, lifeless barrier between us?
VERA [Unfaltering, moving his face toward her lips]
VERA [Unwavering, turning his face toward her lips]
DAVID
DAVID
I should feel the blood on my lips.
I should feel the blood on my lips.
VERA
VERA
My love shall wipe it out.
My love will make it disappear.
DAVID
DAVID
Love! Christian love!
Love! Christian love!
[He unwinds her clinging arms; she sinks prostrate on the floor as he rises.]
He unwraps her tight grip; she collapses onto the floor as he stands up.
For this I gave up my people—darkened the home that sheltered me—there was always a still, small voice at my heart calling me back, but I heeded nothing—only the voice of the butcher's daughter.
For this, I gave up my people—dimmed the home that sheltered me—there was always a quiet, persistent voice in my heart calling me back, but I ignored everything—only listening to the voice of the butcher's daughter.
[Brokenly]
Brokenly
Let me go home, let me go home.
Let me go home, let me go home.
[He looks lingeringly at Vera's prostrate form, but overcoming the instinct to touch and comfort her, begins tottering with uncertain pauses toward the door leading to the hall.]
He gazes lingeringly at Vera's still body, but resisting the urge to reach out and comfort her, starts to stumble with unsteady stops toward the door that leads to the hall.
BARON [Extending his arms in relief and longing]
BARON [Opening his arms in relief and yearning]
And here is your home, Vera!
And here is your home, Vera!
[He raises her gradually from the floor; she is dazed, but suddenly she becomes conscious of whose arms she is in, and utters a cry of repulsion.]
[He lifts her slowly off the floor; she's disoriented, but suddenly she realizes whose arms she's in and lets out a cry of disgust.]
VERA
VERA
Those arms reeking from that crimson river!
Those arms smelling like that red river!
BARON [Sullenly]
BARON [Downcast]
Don't echo that babble. You came to these arms often enough when they were fresh from the battlefield.
Don't repeat that nonsense. You used to come to these arms pretty often when they were fresh from the battlefield.
VERA
VERA
But not from the shambles! You heard what he called you. Not soldier—butcher! Oh, I dared to dream of happiness after my nightmare of Siberia, but you—you——
But not from the ruins! You heard what he called you. Not soldier—butcher! Oh, I dared to dream of happiness after my nightmare in Siberia, but you—you——
[She breaks down for the first time in hysterical sobs.]
She starts crying uncontrollably for the first time.
BARON [Brokenly]
BARON [Incoherently]
Vera! Little Vera! Don't cry! You stab me!
Vera! Little Vera! Don't cry! You're hurting me!
VERA
VERA
You thought you were ordering your soldiers to fire at the Jews, but it was my heart they pierced.
You thought you were telling your soldiers to shoot at the Jews, but it was my heart they hit.
[She sobs on.]
She keeps sobbing.
BARON
NOBLEMAN
... And my own.... But we will comfort each other. I will go to the Tsar myself—with my forehead to the earth—to beg for your pardon!... Come, put your wet face to little father's....
... And my own.... But we will support each other. I will go to the Tsar myself—with my forehead to the ground—to ask for your forgiveness!... Come, press your wet face against little father's....
VERA [Violently pushing his face away]
VERA [Pushing his face away forcefully]
I hate you! I curse the day I was born your daughter!
I hate you! I regret the day I was born your daughter!
[She staggers toward the door leading to the interior. At the same moment David, who has reached the door leading to the hall, now feeling subconsciously[Pg 160] that Vera is going and that his last reason for lingering on is removed, turns the door-handle. The click attracts the Baron's attention, he veers round.]
She stumbles toward the door that leads inside. At the same time, David, who's at the door leading to the hallway, suddenly feels deep down that Vera is leaving and that his last reason for sticking around is gone, so he turns the door handle. The click catches the Baron’s attention, and he turns around.
BARON [To David]
BARON [To David]
Halt!
Stop!
[David turns mechanically. Vera drifts out through her door, leaving the two men face to face. The Baron beckons to David, who as if hypnotised moves nearer. The Baron whips out his pistol, slowly crosses to David, who stands as if awaiting his fate. The Baron hands the pistol to David.]
David turns stiffly. Vera glides out through her door, leaving the two men facing each other. The Lord gestures for David, who approaches as if in a trance. The Baron pulls out his pistol, slowly walks over to David, who stands there, seemingly waiting for his fate. The Baron hands the pistol to David.
You were right!
You were correct!
[He steps back swiftly with a touch of stern heroism into the attitude of the culprit at a military execution, awaiting the bullet.]
He quickly steps back with a hint of serious bravery, adopting the stance of someone guilty at a military execution, bracing for the bullet.
Shoot me!
Shoot me!
DAVID [Takes the pistol mechanically, looks long and pensively at it as with a sense of its irrelevance. Gradually his arm droops and lets the pistol fall on the table, and there his hand touches a string of his violin, which yields a little note. Thus reminded of it, he picks up the violin, and as his fingers draw out the broken string he murmurs]
DAVID [Takes the gun almost absentmindedly, staring at it thoughtfully as if realizing how pointless it is. Gradually, his arm droops, and he lets the gun fall on the table. There, his hand brushes against a string on his violin, producing a soft note. Reminded of it, he picks up the violin, and as his fingers pull at the broken string, he murmurs]
I must get a new string.
I need to get a new string.
[He resumes his dragging march toward the door, repeating maunderingly]
[i]He continues his slow walk toward the door, mumbling to himself[/i]
I must get a new string.
I need to get a new string.
Act IV
Saturday, July 4, evening. The Roof-Garden of the Settlement House, showing a beautiful, far-stretching panorama of New York, with its irregular sky-buildings on the left, and the harbour with its Statue of Liberty on the right. Everything is wet and gleaming after rain. Parapet at the back. Elevator on the right. Entrance from the stairs on the left. In the sky hang heavy clouds through which thin, golden lines of sunset are just beginning to labour. David is discovered on a bench, hugging his violin-case to his breast, gazing moodily at the sky. A muffled sound of applause comes up from below and continues with varying intensity through the early part of the scene. Through it comes the noise of the elevator ascending. Mendel steps out and hurries forward.
Saturday, July 4, evening. The Roof Garden of the Settlement House offers a stunning view of New York, with its oddly shaped skyscrapers on the left and the harbor, featuring the Statue of Liberty, on the right. Everything glistens and is damp from the rain. There's a parapet at the back and an elevator on the right. The entrance is via the stairs on the left. Heavy clouds hang in the sky, with faint golden rays of sunset starting to break through. David is sitting on a bench, holding his violin case tightly, gazing thoughtfully at the sky. A muffled applause rises from below, varying in intensity throughout the early part of the scene. The sound of the elevator can be heard ascending. Mendel steps out and quickly moves forward.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Come down, David! Don't you hear them shouting for you?
Come down, David! Can’t you hear them calling for you?
[He passes his hand over the wet bench.]
He runs his hand over the wet bench.
Good heavens! You will get rheumatic fever!
Goodness! You’re going to get rheumatic fever!
DAVID
DAVID
Why have you followed me?
Why did you follow me?
MENDEL
MENDEL
Get up—everything is still damp.
Get up—everything's still damp.
DAVID [Rising, gloomily]
DAVID [Getting up, sadly]
MENDEL
MENDEL
Nonsense—the rain hasn't damped your triumph in the least. In fact, the more delicate effects wouldn't have gone so well in the open air. Listen!
Nonsense—the rain hasn't taken away from your victory at all. In fact, the more delicate details wouldn’t have turned out as well outside. Listen!
DAVID
DAVID
Let them shout. Who told you I was up here?
Let them yell. Who told you I was up here?
MENDEL
MENDEL
Miss Revendal, of course.
Miss Revendal, obviously.
DAVID [Agitated]
DAVID [Anxious]
Miss Revendal? How should she know?
Miss Revendal? How would she know?
MENDEL [Sullenly]
MENDEL [Glumly]
She seems to understand your crazy ways.
She seems to get your wild habits.
DAVID [Passing his hand over his eyes]
DAVID [Rubbing his eyes]
Ah, you never understood me, uncle.... How did she look? Was she pale?
Ah, you never really got me, uncle.... What did she look like? Was she pale?
MENDEL
MENDEL
Never mind about Miss Revendal. Pappelmeister wants you—the people insist on seeing you. Nobody can quiet them.
Forget about Miss Revendal. Pappelmeister wants you—the people are demanding to see you. No one can calm them down.
DAVID
DAVID
They saw me all through the symphony in my place in the orchestra.
They saw me the entire time during the symphony in my spot in the orchestra.
MENDEL
MENDEL
They didn't know you were the composer as well[Pg 163] as the first violin. Now Miss Revendal has told them.
They didn't realize you were both the composer and the first violin. Now Miss Revendal has informed them.[Pg 163]
[Louder applause.]
[More applause.]
There! Eleven minutes it has gone on—like for an office-seeker. You must come and show yourself.
There! It’s been eleven minutes—like for someone looking for a job. You have to come and show yourself.
DAVID
DAVID
I won't—I'm not an office-seeker. Leave me to my misery.
I won't—I'm not looking for a job in the office. Just let me be in my misery.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Your misery? With all this glory and greatness opening before you? Wait till you're my age——
Your misery? With all this glory and greatness unfolding in front of you? Just wait until you're my age——
[Shouts of "Quixano!"]
[Shouts of "Quixano!"]
You hear! What is to be done with them?
You hear! What should we do with them?
DAVID
DAVID
Send somebody on the platform to remind them this is the interval for refreshments!
Send someone to the platform to remind them that this is the break for refreshments!
MENDEL
MENDEL
Don't be cynical. You know your dearest wish was to melt these simple souls with your music. And now——
Don't be negative. You know your greatest wish was to touch these simple hearts with your music. And now——
DAVID
DAVID
Now I have only made my own stony.
Now I've only made my own stone.
MENDEL
MENDEL
You are right. You are stone all over—ever since you came back home to us. Turned into a pillar of salt, mother says—like Lot's wife.[Pg 164]
You’re right. You’ve turned completely cold—ever since you came back home to us. Mom says you’ve become a pillar of salt—like Lot's wife.[Pg 164]
DAVID
DAVID
That was the punishment for looking backward. Ah, uncle, there's more sense in that old Bible than the Rabbis suspect. Perhaps that is the secret of our people's paralysis—we are always looking backward.
That was the consequence of looking back. Ah, uncle, there's more wisdom in that old Bible than the Rabbis realize. Maybe that's the reason our people can't move forward—we constantly look to the past.
[He drops hopelessly into an iron garden-chair behind him.]
He drops hopelessly into a metal garden chair behind him.
MENDEL [Stopping him before he touches the seat]
MENDEL [Stopping him before he can grab the seat]
Take care—it's sopping wet. You don't look backward enough.
Take care—it's really wet. You don't look behind you enough.
[He takes out his handkerchief and begins drying the chair.]
He pulls out his handkerchief and starts wiping the chair.
DAVID [Faintly smiling]
DAVID [Smiling faintly]
I thought you wanted the salt to melt.
I thought you wanted the salt to dissolve.
MENDEL
MENDEL
It is melting a little if you can smile. Do you know, David, I haven't seen you smile since that Purim afternoon?
It is melting a bit if you can smile. You know, David, I haven't seen you smile since that Purim afternoon?
DAVID
DAVID
You haven't worn a false nose since, uncle.
You haven't worn a fake nose since then, uncle.
[He laughs bitterly.]
He laughs bitterly.
Ha! Ha! Ha! Fancy masquerading in America because twenty-five centuries ago the Jews escaped a pogrom in Persia. Two thousand five hundred years ago! Aren't we uncanny?
Ha! Ha! Ha! Imagine pretending to be in America because twenty-five centuries ago the Jews escaped a pogrom in Persia. Two thousand five hundred years ago! Aren't we something?
MENDEL [Angrily]
MENDEL [Furiously]
Better you should leave us altogether than mock at us. I thought it was your Jewish heart that drove you back home to us; but if you are still hankering after Miss Revendal——
Better you should just leave us entirely than make fun of us. I thought it was your Jewish heart that brought you back to us; but if you’re still longing for Miss Revendal——
DAVID [Pained]
DAVID [In pain]
Uncle!
Uncle!
MENDEL
MENDEL
I'd rather see you marry her than go about like this. You couldn't make the house any gloomier.
I'd prefer you to marry her instead of acting like this. You couldn't make the house any more depressing.
DAVID
DAVID
Go back to the concert, please. They have quieted down.
Go back to the concert, please. They've settled down.
MENDEL [Hesitating]
MENDEL [Unsure]
And you?
And you?
DAVID
DAVID
Oh, I'm not playing in the popular after-pieces. Pappelmeister guessed I'd be broken up with the stress of my own symphony—he has violins enough.
Oh, I'm not involved in the trendy follow-up pieces. Pappelmeister thought I’d be overwhelmed by the pressure of my own symphony—he has plenty of violins.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Then you don't want to carry this about.
Then you don't want to carry this around.
[Taking the violin from David's arms.]
Taking the violin from David.
DAVID [Clinging to it]
DAVID [Holding on to it]
MENDEL
MENDEL
You'll spoil it in the wet. I'll take it home.
You'll ruin it in the rain. I'll take it home.
DAVID
DAVID
No——
Nope.
[He suddenly catches sight of two figures entering from the left—Frau Quixano and Kathleen clad in their best, and wearing tiny American flags in honour of Independence Day. Kathleen escorts the old lady, with the air of a guardian angel, on her slow, tottering course toward David. Frau Quixano is puffing and panting after the many stairs. David jumps up in surprise, releases the violin-case to Mendel.]
He suddenly spots two figures coming in from the left—Ms. Quixano and Kathleen dressed in their finest, wearing small American flags to celebrate Independence Day. Kathleen supports the elderly woman, looking like a guardian angel, as they slowly make their way toward David. Ms. Quixano is out of breath from climbing all those stairs. David jumps up in surprise and hands the violin case to Mendel.
They at my symphony!
They’re at my concert!
MENDEL
MENDEL
Mother would come—even though, being Shabbos, she had to walk.
Mother would come—even though, since it was Shabbos, she had to walk.
DAVID
DAVID
But wasn't she shocked at my playing on the Sabbath?
But wasn’t she surprised by my playing on the Sabbath?
MENDEL
MENDEL
No—that's the curious part of it. She said that even as a boy you played your fiddle on Shabbos, and that if the Lord has stood it all these years, He must consider you an exception.
No—that's the interesting part. She mentioned that even as a kid you played your fiddle on Shabbos, and that if the Lord has put up with it all these years, He must see you as an exception.
DAVID
DAVID
You see! She's more sensible than you thought.[Pg 167] I daresay whatever I were to do she'd consider me an exception.
You see! She's more reasonable than you realized.[Pg 167] I bet that whatever I do, she'd see me as an exception.
MENDEL [In sullen acquiescence]
MENDEL [In gloomy acceptance]
I suppose geniuses are.
I guess geniuses are.
KATHLEEN [Reaching them; panting with admiration and breathlessness]
KATHLEEN [Getting to them; out of breath with admiration and excitement]
Oh, Mr. David! it was like midnight mass! But the misthress was ashleep.
Oh, Mr. David! It felt like midnight mass! But the mistress was asleep.
DAVID
DAVID
Asleep!
Asleep!
[Laughs half-merrily, half-sadly.]
[Laughs bittersweetly.]
Ha! Ha! Ha!
Ha! Ha! Ha!
FRAU QUIXANO [Panting and laughing in response]
FRAU QUIXANO [Out of breath and laughing in reply]
He! He! He! Dovidel lacht widder. He! He! He!
He! He! He! He laughed again. He! He! He!
[She touches his arm affectionately, but feeling his wet coat, utters a cry of horror.]
She touches his arm affectionately, but when she feels his wet coat, she gasps in horror.
Du bist nass!
You’re wet!
DAVID
DAVID
Es ist gor nicht, Granny—my clothes are thick.
It's really not, Granny—my clothes are thick.
[She fusses over him, wiping him down with her gloved hand.]
She cares for him, cleaning him with her gloved hand.
MENDEL
MENDEL
But what brought you up here, Kathleen?
But what brought you up here, Kathleen?
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Sure, not the elevator. The misthress said 'twould be breaking the Shabbos to ride up in it.[Pg 168]
Sure, not the elevator. The mistress said it would be breaking the Shabbos to ride up in it.[Pg 168]
DAVID [Uneasily]
DAVID [Feeling uneasy]
But did—-did Miss Revendal send you up?
But did—did Miss Revendal send you up?
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
And who else should be axin' the misthress if she wasn't proud of Mr. David? Faith, she's a sweet lady.
And who else would be asking the mistress if she wasn't proud of Mr. David? Honestly, she's a lovely woman.
MENDEL [Impatiently]
MENDEL [Waiting impatiently]
Don't chatter, Kathleen.
Stop talking, Kathleen.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
But, Mr. Quixano——!
But, Mr. Quixano—!
DAVID [Sweetly]
DAVID [Kindly]
Please take your mistress down again—don't let her walk.
Please take your girlfriend down again—don't let her walk.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
But Shabbos isn't out yet!
But Shabbat isn't over yet!
MENDEL
MENDEL
Chattering again!
Talking again!
DAVID [Gently]
DAVID [Softly]
There's no harm, Kathleen, in going down in the elevator.
There's nothing wrong, Kathleen, in going down in the elevator.
KATHLEEN
KATHLEEN
Troth, I'll egshplain to her that droppin' down isn't ridin'.[Pg 169]
Honestly, I'll explain to her that dropping down isn't the same as riding.[Pg 169]
DAVID [Smiling]
DAVID [Grinning]
Yes, tell her dropping down is natural—not work, like flying up.
Yes, tell her that dropping down is natural—not work, like flying up.
[Kathleen begins to move toward the stairs, explaining to Frau Quixano.]
[i>Kathleen starts to head towards the stairs, talking to Mrs. Quixano.]
And, Kathleen! You'll get her some refreshments.
And, Kathleen! You'll get her some snacks.
KATHLEEN [Turns, glaring]
KATHLEEN [Turns, glaring]
Refrishments, is it? Give her refrishments where they mix the mate with the butther plates! Oh, Mr. David!
Refrishments, huh? Give her refreshments where they mix the mate with the butter plates! Oh, Mr. David!
[She moves off toward the stairs in reproachful sorrow.]
She walks away toward the stairs, feeling regretful and sad.
MENDEL [Smiling]
MENDEL [Smiling]
I'll get her some coffee.
I’ll get her coffee.
DAVID [Smiling]
DAVID [Grinning]
Yes, that'll keep her awake. Besides, Pappelmeister was so sure the people wouldn't understand me, he's relaxing them on Gounod and Rossini.
Yes, that will keep her awake. Besides, Pappelmeister was so confident that the people wouldn’t get me, he’s calming them down with Gounod and Rossini.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Pappelmeister's idea of relaxation! I should have given them comic opera.
Pappelmeister's idea of relaxation! I should have offered them a comedy show.
[With sudden call to Kathleen, who with her mistress is at the wrong exit.]
[With a sudden shout to Kathleen, who is at the wrong exit with her boss.]
Kathleen! The elevator's this side!
Kathleen! The elevator's over here!
KATHLEEN [Turning]
KATHLEEN [Turning]
What way can that be, when I came up this side?[Pg 170]
What way can that be, when I came up this side?[Pg 170]
MENDEL
MENDEL
You chatter too much.
You talk too much.
[Frau Quixano, not understanding, exit.]
[Mrs. Quixano, confused, exits.]
Come this way. Can't you see the elevator?
Come this way. Can't you see the elevator?
KATHLEEN [Perceives Frau Quixano has gone, calls after her in Irish-sounding Yiddish]
KATHLEEN [Notices that Ms. Quixano has left, calls after her in an Irish-sounding Yiddish]
Wu geht Ihr, bedad?...
Where are you going, right?...
[Impatiently]
Impatiently
Houly Moses, komm' zurick!
Houly Moses, come back!
[Exit anxiously, re-enter with Frau Quixano.]
[Exit nervously, re-enter with Frau Quixano.]
Begorra, we Jews never know our way.
Begorra, we Jews never know our way.
[Mendel, carrying the violin, escorts his mother and Kathleen to the elevator. When they are near it, it stops with a thud, and Pappelmeister springs out, his umbrella up, meeting them face to face. He looks happy and beaming over David's triumph.]
Mendel, holding the violin, walks with his mother and Kathleen to the elevator. As they get close, it suddenly stops with a bang, and Pencil Master jumps out, his umbrella raised, facing them directly. He looks joyful and excited about David's success.
PAPPELMEISTER [In loud, joyous voice]
PAPPELMEISTER [In a loud, joyful voice]
Nun, Frau Quixano, was sagen Sie? Vat you tink of your David?
Now, Mrs. Quixano, what do you say? What do you think of your David?
FRAU QUIXANO
Mrs. Quixano
Dovid? Er ist meshuggah.
Dovid? He's crazy.
[She taps her forehead.]
She taps her head.
PAPPELMEISTER [Puzzled, to Mendel]
PAPPELMEISTER [Puzzled, to Mendel]
Meshuggah! Vat means meshuggah? Crazy?
Meshuggah! What does meshuggah mean? Crazy?
MENDEL [Half-smiling]
MENDEL [Half-smiling]
You've struck it. She says David doesn't know enough to go in out of the rain.
You've hit the mark. She says David isn't smart enough to come in out of the rain.
DAVID [Rising]
DAVID [Ascending]
But it's stopped raining, Herr Pappelmeister. You don't want your umbrella.
But it's stopped raining, Mr. Pappelmeister. You don't need your umbrella.
[General laughter.]
[Everyone laughs.]
PAPPELMEISTER
Papel Master
So.
So.
[Shuts it down.]
Closes it.
MENDEL
MENDEL
Herein, Mutter.
Listen up, Mutter.
[He pushes Frau Quixano's somewhat shrinking form into the elevator. Kathleen follows, then Mendel.]
He guides Ms. Quixano's slightly shrinking figure into the elevator. Kathleen steps in after her, then Mendel.
Herr Pappelmeister, we are all your grateful servants.
Mr. Pappelmeister, we are all grateful to serve you.
[Pappelmeister bows; the gates close, the elevator descends.]
Paper Master bows; the gates close, and the elevator goes down.
DAVID
DAVID
And you won't think me ungrateful for running away—you know my thanks are too deep to be spoken.
And you won't think I'm ungrateful for running away—you know my gratitude is too deep to express.
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPER MASTER
And zo are my congratulations!
And so are my congratulations!
DAVID
DAVID
Then, don't speak them, please.
Then, please don't say them.
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPPELMEISTER
But you must come and speak to all de people in America who undershtand music.[Pg 172]
But you have to come and talk to everyone in America who understands music.[Pg 172]
DAVID [Half-smiling]
DAVID [Half-smiling]
To your four connoisseurs?
To your four foodies?
[Seriously]
[No kidding]
Oh, please! I really could not meet strangers, especially musical vampires.
Oh, come on! I really can't deal with strangers, especially musical vampires.
PAPPELMEISTER [Half-startled, half-angry]
PAPPELMEISTER [Partially startled, partially angry]
Vampires? Oh, come!
Vampires? Oh, please!
DAVID
DAVID
Voluptuaries, then—rich, idle æsthetes to whom art and life have no connection, parasites who suck our music——
Voluptuaries, then—wealthy, lazy aesthetes for whom art and life are unrelated, parasites who drain our music——
PAPPELMEISTER [Laughs good-naturedly]
PAPPELMEISTER [Laughs warmly]
Ha! Ha! Ha! Vait till you hear vat dey say.
Ha! Ha! Ha! Wait till you hear what they say.
DAVID
DAVID
I will wait as long as you like.
I’ll wait as long as you want.
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPPELMEISTER
Den I like to tell you now.
Den I like to tell you now.
[He roars with mischievous laughter.]
He laughs mischievously.
Ha! Ha! Ha! De first vampire says it is a great vork, but poorly performed.
Ha! Ha! Ha! The first vampire says it’s a great piece of work, but not done well.
DAVID [Indignant]
DAVID [Uptight]
Oh!
Oh!
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPPELMEISTER
De second vampire says it is a poor vork, but greatly performed.[Pg 173]
The second vampire says it's a bad job, but it's done really well.[Pg 173]
DAVID [Disappointed]
DAVID [Let down]
Oh!
Oh!
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPPELMEISTER
De dird vampire says it is a great vork greatly performed.
The third vampire says it’s a great work, really well done.
DAVID [Complacently]
DAVID [Relaxed]
Ah!
Ah!
PAPPELMEISTER
PAPER MASTER
And de fourz vampire says it is a poor vork poorly performed.
And the fourth vampire says it is a bad job poorly done.
DAVID [Angry and disappointed]
DAVID [Pissed and let down]
Oh!
Oh!
[Then smiling]
[Then smiling]
You see you have to go by the people after all.
You see, you have to go with the people after all.
PAPPELMEISTER [Shakes head, smiling]
PAPPELMEISTER [Shakes head, smiles]
Nein. Ven critics disagree—I agree mit mineself. Ha! Ha! Ha!
No. Ven critics disagree—I agree with myself. Ha! Ha! Ha!
[He slaps David on the back.]
He pats David on the back.
A great vork dat vill be even better performed next time! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ten dousand congratulations.
A great job that will be even better next time! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ten thousand congratulations.
[He seizes David's hand and grips it heartily.]
He grabs David's hand and shakes it enthusiastically.
DAVID
DAVID
Don't! You hurt me.
Don't! You hurt me.
PAPPELMEISTER [Dropping David's hand,—misunderstanding]
PAPPELMEISTER [Letting go of David's hand,—misunderstanding]
DAVID
DAVID
No—no—what does my wound matter? That never stung half so much as these clappings and congratulations.
No—no—what does my wound matter? That never hurt nearly as much as all this clapping and praise.
PAPPELMEISTER [Puzzled but solicitous]
PAPPELMEISTER [Puzzled but caring]
I knew your nerves vould be all shnapping like fiddle-shtrings. Oh, you cheniuses!
I knew your nerves would be all frayed like violin strings. Oh, you geniuses!
[Smiling.]
[Smiling.]
You like neider de clappings nor de criticisms,—was?
You don't like neither the applause nor the criticism, — what?
DAVID
DAVID
They are equally—irrelevant. One has to wrestle with one's own art, one's own soul, alone!
They are just as irrelevant. You have to grapple with your own art, your own soul, alone!
PAPPELMEISTER [Patting him soothingly]
PAPPELMEISTER [Gently patting him]
I am glad I did not let you blay in Part Two.
I’m glad I didn’t let you play in Part Two.
DAVID
DAVID
Dear Herr Pappelmeister! Don't think I don't appreciate all your kindnesses—you are almost a father to me.
Dear Mr. Pappelmeister! Don’t think I don’t appreciate all your kindness—you’re like a father to me.
PAPPELMEISTER
Papel Master
And you disobey me like a son. Ha! Ha! Ha! Vell, I vill make your excuses to de—vampires. Ha! Ha! Also, David.
And you ignore me like a son. Ha! Ha! Ha! Well, I’ll make your excuses to the—vampires. Ha! Ha! Also, David.
[He lays his hand again affectionately on David's right shoulder.]
He places his hand affectionately on David's right shoulder again.
Lebe wohl! I must go down to my popular classics.
Goodbye! I need to head down to my favorite classics.
[Gloomily]
Gloomily
DAVID [Smiling]
DAVID [Grinning]
Oh, it isn't such a descent as all that. Uncle said you ought to have given them comic opera.
Oh, it’s not such a big deal. Uncle said you should have given them a comic opera.
PAPPELMEISTER [Shuddering convulsively]
PAPPELMEISTER [Trembling uncontrollably]
Comic opera.... Ouf!
Comic opera... Oof!
[He goes toward the elevator and rings the bell. Then he turns to David.]
He walks over to the elevator and presses the button. Then he turns to David.
Vat vas dat vord, David?
What was that word, David?
DAVID
DAVID
What word?
What word?
PAPPELMEISTER [Groping for it]
PAPPELMEISTER [Searching for it]
Mega—megasshu....
Mega—megasshu....
DAVID [Puzzled]
DAVID [Confused]
Megasshu?
Megasshu?
[The elevator comes up; the gates open.]
[i]The elevator arrives; the doors open.[/i]
PAPPELMEISTER
Papel Master
Megusshah! You know.
Megusshah! You know.
[He taps his forehead with his umbrella.]
[He taps his forehead with his umbrella.]
DAVID
DAVID
Ah, meshuggah!
Ah, meshuggah!
PAPPELMEISTER [Joyously]
PAPPELMEISTER [Joyfully]
Ja, meshuggah!
Yeah, crazy!
[He gives a great roar of laughter.]
He lets out a big laugh.
Ha! Ha! Ha!
Ha! Ha! Ha!
[Pg 176][He waves umbrella at David.]
He waves an umbrella at David.
Well, don't be ... meshuggah.
Well, don't be ... crazy.
[He steps into the elevator.]
He gets in the elevator.
Ha! Ha! Ha!
Ha! Ha! Ha!
[The gates close, and it descends with his laughter.]
[i]The gates close, and it goes down with his laughter.[/i]
DAVID [After a pause]
DAVID [After a moment]
Perhaps I am ... meshuggah.
Maybe I am ... meshuggah.
[He walks up and down moodily, approaches the parapet at back.]
[i]He paces back and forth in a gloomy mood, moving toward the railing at the back.[/i]
Dropping down is indeed natural.
Dropping down is definitely natural.
[He looks over.]
He glances over.
How it tugs and drags at one!
How it pulls and drags at you!
[He moves back resolutely and shakes his head.]
[i]He steps back firmly and shakes his head.[/i]
That would be even a greater descent than Pappelmeister's to comic opera. One must fly upward—somehow.
That would be an even bigger fall than Pappelmeister's shift to comic opera. One must rise above—somehow.
[He drops on the chair that Mendel dried. A faint music steals up and makes an accompaniment to all the rest of the scene.]
He sits down on the chair that Mendel dried. A soft music rises up and adds to the atmosphere of the scene.
Ah! the popular classics!
Ah! the trending classics!
[His head sinks on a little table. The elevator comes up again, but he does not raise his head. Vera, pale and sad, steps out and walks gently over to him; stands looking at him with maternal pity; then decides not to disturb him and is stealing away when suddenly he looks up and perceives her and springs to his feet with a dazed glad cry.]
His head drops onto a small table. The elevator comes up again, but he doesn't lift his head. Vera, looking pale and sad, steps out and gently walks over to him; she stands there, watching him with a motherly pity. Then she decides not to interrupt him and starts to slip away when suddenly he looks up, sees her, and jumps to his feet with a confused, happy shout.
Vera!
Vera!
VERA [Turns, speaks with grave dignity]
VERA [Turns, speaks with serious dignity]
Miss Andrews has charged me to convey to you the heart-felt thanks and congratulations of the Settlement.[Pg 177]
Miss Andrews has asked me to pass on the sincere thanks and congratulations of the Settlement.[Pg 177]
DAVID [Frozen]
DAVID [Frozen]
Miss Andrews is very kind.... I trust you are well.
Miss Andrews is really nice.... I hope you're doing well.
VERA
VERA
Thank you, Mr. Quixano. Very well and very busy. So you'll excuse me.
Thank you, Mr. Quixano. I'm doing well, just a bit busy. So I hope you don't mind.
[She turns to go.]
She turns to leave.
DAVID
DAVID
Certainly.... How are your folks?
Sure! How are your parents?
VERA [Turns her head]
VERA [Looks away]
They are gone back to Russia. And yours?
They have gone back to Russia. What about yours?
DAVID
DAVID
You just saw them all.
You just saw everyone.
VERA [Confused]
VERA [Perplexed]
Yes—yes—of course—I forgot! Good-bye, Mr. Quixano.
Yes—yes—of course—I forgot! Goodbye, Mr. Quixano.
DAVID
DAVID
Good-bye, Miss Revendal.
Goodbye, Miss Revendal.
[He drops back on the chair. Vera walks to the elevator, then just before ringing turns again.]
[i>He slumps back in the chair. Vera heads to the elevator, then just before pressing the button, she stops and turns back.]
VERA
VERA
I shouldn't advise you to sit here in the damp.
I shouldn't advise you to sit here in the moisture.
DAVID
DAVID
My uncle dried the chair.
My uncle dried the chair.
Curious how every one is concerned about my body and no one about my soul.
Curious how everyone cares about my body and no one cares about my soul.
VERA
VERA
Because your soul is so much stronger than your body. Why, think! It has just lifted a thousand people far higher than this roof-garden.
Because your soul is so much stronger than your body. Just think about it! It has just lifted a thousand people far higher than this rooftop garden.
DAVID
DAVID
Please don't you congratulate me, too! That would be too ironical.
Please don't congratulate me, too! That would be too ironic.
VERA [Agitated, coming nearer]
VERA [Frustrated, approaching]
Irony, Mr. Quixano? Please, please, do not imagine there is any irony in my congratulations.
Irony, Mr. Quixano? Please, don’t think for a second that there’s any irony in my congratulations.
DAVID
DAVID
The irony is in all the congratulations. How can I endure them when I know what a terrible failure I have made!
The irony is in all the congratulations. How can I handle them when I know what a complete failure I’ve been!
VERA
VERA
Failure! Because the critics are all divided? That is the surest proof of success. You have produced something real and new.
Failure! Just because the critics can't agree? That's actually the best sign of success. You've created something genuine and original.
DAVID
DAVID
I am not thinking of Pappelmeister's connoisseurs—I am the only connoisseur, the only one who knows. And every bar of my music cried "Failure! Failure!" It shrieked from the violins, blared from the trombones, thundered from the drums. It was written on all the faces—[Pg 179]—
I’m not talking about Pappelmeister's fans—I’m the only one who really gets it. Every note of my music screamed "Failure! Failure!" It screeched from the violins, blared from the trombones, and thundered from the drums. It showed on everyone's faces—[Pg 179]—
VERA [Vehemently, coming still nearer]
VERA [Strongly, coming even closer]
Oh, no! no! I watched the faces—those faces of toil and sorrow, those faces from many lands. They were fired by your vision of their coming brotherhood, lulled by your dream of their land of rest. And I could see that you were right in speaking to the people. In some strange, beautiful, way the inner meaning of your music stole into all those simple souls——
Oh, no! no! I looked at the faces—those faces of hard work and sadness, those faces from different places. They were inspired by your vision of their upcoming brotherhood, comforted by your dream of their peaceful land. And I could see that you were right to speak to the people. In some strange, beautiful way, the deeper meaning of your music reached all of those genuine souls—
DAVID [Springing up]
DAVID [Jumping up]
And my soul? What of my soul? False to its own music, its own mission, its own dream. That is what I mean by failure, Vera. I preached of God's Crucible, this great new continent that could melt up all race-differences and vendettas, that could purge and re-create, and God tried me with his supremest test. He gave me a heritage from the Old World, hate and vengeance and blood, and said, "Cast it all into my Crucible." And I said, "Even thy Crucible cannot melt this hate, cannot drink up this blood." And so I sat crooning over the dead past, gloating over the old blood-stains—I, the apostle of America, the prophet of the God of our children. Oh—how my music mocked me! And you—so fearless, so high above fate—how you must despise me!
And my soul? What about my soul? It’s not true to its own music, its own purpose, its own dream. That’s what I mean by failure, Vera. I talked about God's Crucible, this great new land that could dissolve all racial differences and feuds, that could cleanse and transform, and God tested me with his greatest challenge. He gave me a legacy from the Old World—hate, revenge, and blood—and said, "Put it all into my Crucible." And I replied, "Not even your Crucible can melt away this hate or absorb this blood." So I sat there, lamenting the dead past, reveling in the old bloodstains—I, the messenger of America, the prophet of the God of our children. Oh—how my music taunted me! And you—so brave, so far above destiny—how you must look down on me!
VERA
VERA
I? Ah no!
Me? Oh no!
DAVID
DAVID
You must. You do. Your words still sting. Were[Pg 180] it seven seas between us, you said, our love must cross them. And I—I who had prated of seven seas——
You have to. You do. Your words still hurt. Even if there were seven seas between us, you said, our love would still find a way across them. And I—I who had talked about seven seas—
VERA
VERA
Not seas of blood—I spoke selfishly, thoughtlessly. I had not realised that crimson flood. Now I see it day and night. O God!
Not seas of blood—I spoke selfishly, thoughtlessly. I hadn't realized that crimson flood. Now I see it all day and night. O God!
[She shudders and covers her eyes.]
[i]She shudders and covers her eyes.[/i]
DAVID
DAVID
There lies my failure—to have brought it to your eyes, instead of blotting it from my own.
There lies my failure—to have shown it to you instead of erasing it from my own memory.
VERA
VERA
No man could have blotted it out.
No one could have erased it.
DAVID
DAVID
Yes—by faith in the Crucible. From the blood of battlefields spring daisies and buttercups. In the divine chemistry the very garbage turns to roses. But in the supreme moment my faith was found wanting. You came to me—and I thrust you away.
Yes—by faith in the Crucible. From the blood of battlefields spring daisies and buttercups. In the divine chemistry, even the waste turns to roses. But in that crucial moment, my faith fell short. You came to me—and I pushed you away.
VERA
VERA
I ought not to have come to you.... I ought not to have come to you to-day. We must not meet again.
I shouldn't have come to you. I shouldn't have come to you today. We can't meet again.
DAVID
DAVID
VERA
VERA
Forgive? It is I that should go down on my knees for my father's sin.
Forgive? I’m the one who should be begging for forgiveness because of my father's mistake.
[She is half-sinking to her knees. He stops her by a gesture and a cry.]
She is almost dropping to her knees. He stops her with a gesture and a shout.
DAVID
DAVID
No! The sins of the fathers shall not be visited on the children.
No! The sins of the fathers won’t be passed down to the children.
VERA
VERA
My brain follows you, but not my heart. It is heavy with the sense of unpaid debts—debts that can only cry for forgiveness.
My mind is with you, but my heart isn’t. It feels weighed down by the burden of unpaid debts—debts that can only plead for forgiveness.
DAVID
DAVID
You owe me nothing——
You don’t owe me anything——
VERA
VERA
But my father, my people, my country....
But my dad, my community, my country...
[She breaks down. Recovers herself.]
She has a breakdown. Recovers.
My only consolation is, you need nothing.
My only comfort is that you need nothing.
DAVID [Dazed]
DAVID [Confused]
I—need—nothing?
I need nothing?
VERA
VERA
Nothing but your music ... your dreams.
Nothing but your music... your dreams.
DAVID
DAVID
VERA [Shaking her head sadly]
VERA [Shakes her head sadly]
No.
No.
DAVID
DAVID
You say that because I have forfeited it.
You say that because I’ve given it up.
VERA
VERA
It is my only consolation, I tell you, that you do not need me. In our happiest moments a suspicion of this truth used to lacerate me. But now it is my one comfort in the doom that divides us. See how you stand up here above the world, alone and self-sufficient. No woman could ever have more than the second place in your life.
It’s my only comfort, I swear, that you don’t need me. In our happiest moments, this realization used to hurt me deeply. But now it’s my only solace in the separation between us. Look at how you stand up here, above everything, alone and independent. No woman could ever hold more than a secondary spot in your life.
DAVID
DAVID
But you have the first place, Vera!
But you have 1st place, Vera!
VERA [Shakes her head again]
VERA [Shakes her head]
No—I no longer even desire it. I have gotten over that womanly weakness.
No—I don't even want it anymore. I've moved past that feminine weakness.
DAVID
DAVID
You torture me. What do you mean?
You’re driving me crazy. What do you mean?
VERA
VERA
What can be simpler? I used to be jealous of your music, your prophetic visions. I wanted to come first—before them all! Now, dear David, I only pray that they may fill your life to the brim.
What could be simpler? I used to feel jealous of your music and your prophetic visions. I wanted to be first—ahead of everyone else! Now, dear David, I just hope that they fill your life completely.
DAVID
DAVID
VERA
VERA
They will—have faith in yourself, in your mission—good-bye.
They will—believe in yourself, in your purpose—goodbye.
DAVID [Dazed]
DAVID [Stunned]
You love me and you leave me?
You love me and then you leave me?
VERA
VERA
What else can I do? Shall the shadow of Kishineff hang over all your years to come? Shall I kiss you and leave blood upon your lips, cling to you and be pushed away by all those cold, dead hands?
What else can I do? Will the shadow of Kishineff loom over all your future years? Should I kiss you and leave blood on your lips, hold on to you, only to be pushed away by all those cold, lifeless hands?
DAVID [Taking both her hands]
DAVID [Holding her hands]
Yes, cling to me, despite them all, cling to me till all these ghosts are exorcised, cling to me till our love triumphs over death. Kiss me, kiss me now.
Yes, hold on to me, no matter what they say, hold on to me until all these ghosts are gone, hold on to me until our love wins over death. Kiss me, kiss me now.
VERA [Resisting, drawing back]
VERA [Resisting, pulling away]
I dare not! It will make you remember.
I can't do that! It will make you remember.
DAVID
DAVID
It will make me forget. Kiss me.
It will help me forget. Kiss me.
[There is a pause of hesitation, filled up by the Cathedral music from "Faust" surging up softly from below.]
[There's a moment of hesitation, filled with the soft surge of the Cathedral music from "Faust" drifting up from below.]
VERA [Slowly]
VERA [Taking her time]
I will kiss you as we Russians kiss at Easter—the three kisses of peace.
I will kiss you like we Russians do at Easter—with three kisses of peace.
[Pg 184][She kisses him three times on the mouth as in ritual solemnity.]
[Pg 184][She kisses him three times on the lips with a serious, almost ceremonial vibe.]
DAVID [Very calmly]
DAVID [Calmly]
Easter was the date of the massacre—see! I am at peace.
Easter was the day of the massacre—see! I feel at peace.
VERA
VERA
God grant it endure!
May it last!
[They stand quietly hand in hand.]
They stand quietly, holding hands.
Look! How beautiful the sunset is after the storm!
Look! The sunset is so beautiful after the storm!
[David turns. The sunset, which has begun to grow beautiful just after Vera's entrance, has now reached its most magnificent moment; below there are narrow lines of saffron and pale gold, but above the whole sky is one glory of burning flame.]
David turns. The sunset, which started to look beautiful right after Vera's arrival, has now reached its most stunning point; below, there are thin lines of saffron and soft gold, but above, the entire sky is a dazzling display of fiery colors.
DAVID [Prophetically exalted by the spectacle]
DAVID [Moved by the impressive sight]
It is the fires of God round His Crucible.
It is the fires of God around His Crucible.
[He drops her hand and points downward.]
He lets go of her hand and points down.
There she lies, the great Melting Pot—listen! Can't you hear the roaring and the bubbling? There gapes her mouth
There she lies, the great Melting Pot—listen! Can’t you hear the roaring and the bubbling? There’s her mouth gaping.
[He points east]
He points to the east.
—the harbour where a thousand mammoth feeders come from the ends of the world to pour in their human freight. Ah, what a stirring and a seething! Celt and Latin, Slav and Teuton, Greek and Syrian,—black and yellow——
—the harbor where a thousand massive ships arrive from all corners of the globe to unload their human cargo. Ah, what a lively and chaotic scene! Celts and Latins, Slavs and Teutons, Greeks and Syrians,—blacks and yellows——
VERA [Softly, nestling to him]
VERA [Softly, cuddling with him]
Jew and Gentile——
Jew and Gentile
DAVID
DAVID
Yes, East and West, and North and South, the palm[Pg 185] and the pine, the pole and the equator, the crescent and the cross—how the great Alchemist melts and fuses them with his purging flame! Here shall they all unite to build the Republic of Man and the Kingdom of God. Ah, Vera, what is the glory of Rome and Jerusalem where all nations and races come to worship and look back, compared with the glory of America, where all races and nations come to labour and look forward!
Yes, East and West, and North and South, the palm[Pg 185] and the pine, the pole and the equator, the crescent and the cross—how the great Alchemist melts and fuses them with his purifying flame! Here they will all come together to create the Republic of Man and the Kingdom of God. Ah, Vera, what is the glory of Rome and Jerusalem where all nations and races come to worship and reflect, compared to the glory of America, where all races and nations come to work and look ahead!
[He raises his hands in benediction over the shining city.]
He raises his hands in blessing over the shining city.
Peace, peace, to all ye unborn millions, fated to fill this giant continent—the God of our children give you Peace.
Peace, peace, to all you unborn millions destined to inhabit this vast continent—the God of our children grant you peace.
[Pg 187][An instant's solemn pause. The sunset is swiftly fading, and the vast panorama is suffused with a more restful twilight, to which the many-gleaming lights of the town add the tender poetry of the night. Far back, like a lonely, guiding star, twinkles over the darkening water the torch of the Statue of Liberty. From below comes up the softened sound of voices and instruments joining in "My Country, [Pg 186]'tis of Thee." The curtain falls slowly.]
[Pg 187][A moment of serious reflection. The sunset is quickly fading, and the wide view is bathed in a calming twilight, enhanced by the twinkling lights of the town that bring the gentle beauty of the night. In the distance, like a lonely guiding star, the torch of the Statue of Liberty sparkles over the darkening water. From below, the soft sounds of voices and instruments rise as they sing "My Country, [Pg 186]'tis of Thee." The curtain descends slowly.]
APPENDIX A
THE MELTING POT IN ACTION
| Aliens allowed entry to the United States in the year ending June 30, 1913 | |
|---|---|
| African (black) | 9,734 |
| Armenian | 9,554 |
| Bohemian and Moravian | 11,852 |
| Bulgarian, Servian, Montenegrin | 10,083 |
| Chinese | 3,487 |
| Croatian and Slavonian | 44,754 |
| Cuban | 6,121 |
| Dalmatian, Bosnian, Herzegovinian | 4,775 |
| Dutch and Flemish | 18,746 |
| East Indian | 233 |
| English | 100,062 |
| Finnish | 14,920 |
| French | 26,509 |
| German | 101,764 |
| Greek | 40,933 |
| Hebrew | 105,826 |
| Irish | 48,103 |
| Italian (north) | 54,171 |
| Italian (south) | 264,348 |
| Japanese | 11,672 |
| Korean | 74 |
| Lithuanian | 25,529 |
| Magyar | 33,561 |
| Mexican | 15,495 |
| Pacific Islander | 27 |
| Polish | 185,207 |
| Portuguese | 14,631 |
| Roumanian | 14,780 |
| Russian | 58,380 |
| Ruthenian (Russniak) | 39,405 |
| Scandinavian | 51,650 |
| Scotch | 31,434 |
| Slovak | 29,094 |
| Spanish | 15,017 |
| Spanish-American | 3,409 |
| Syrian | 10,019 |
| Turkish | 2,132 |
| Welsh | 3,922 |
| West Indian (except Cuban) | 2,302 |
| Other peoples | 3,512 |
| Total | 1,427,227 |
APPENDIX B
THE POGROM
(I) A RUSSIAN ON ITS REASONS
[From The Nation, November 15, 1913]
[From The Nation, Nov. 15, 1913]
It is now over thirty years since the crew of the sinking ship of Russian absolutism first tried this unworthy weapon to save their failing cause. This was when Plehve organised an anti-Semitic agitation and Jewish pogroms in 1883 in South Russia, where the Jews formed almost the only merchant class in the villages, and where the ignorant peasants, together with some crafty Russian tradesmen, had a natural grudge against them. The result was that the prevailing discontent of the masses was diverted against the Jews. A large public meeting of protest was organised at that time in the London Mansion House, the Lord Mayor taking the chair. English public opinion rightly appreciated the value of this criminal method of using Jews as scapegoats for political purposes. Now we see merely a further, and let us hope a final, development of the same tactics. They have been used on many occasions since 1883. One of the largest Jewish pogroms of the latest series in Kishineff in 1903 has been clearly traced to the same experienced hand of Plehve, when the passive attitude of the local administration and the military was explained by the presence in the town of a mysterious colonel of the Imperial Gendarmerie who arrived with secret orders and a large supply of pogrom literature from St. Petersburg, and who organised the scum of the town population for the purpose of looting and killing Jews.
It’s been over thirty years since the crew of the sinking ship of Russian absolutism first used this despicable tactic to save their failing cause. This occurred when Plehve orchestrated an anti-Semitic campaign and Jewish pogroms in 1883 in South Russia, where Jews made up almost the entire merchant class in the villages, and where the uneducated peasants, along with some cunning Russian merchants, had a natural hostility toward them. As a result, the widespread discontent of the masses was redirected against the Jews. At that time, a large public protest meeting was organized at the London Mansion House, with the Lord Mayor presiding. The English public correctly recognized the dangers of this criminal tactic of using Jews as scapegoats for political gains. Now we see just another, and hopefully final, development of these same strategies. They have been employed many times since 1883. One of the largest Jewish pogroms in the most recent series in Kishineff in 1903 was clearly linked to the same skilled hand of Plehve, as the passive response of the local administration and military was explained by the presence of a mysterious colonel of the Imperial Gendarmerie who came with secret orders and a large supply of pogrom pamphlets from St. Petersburg, and who mobilized the town’s lowlifes for the purpose of looting and attacking Jews.
The repulsive stories of further pogroms all over the country immediately after the issue of the constitutional manifesto of[Pg 189] October 17, 1905, are fresh in the memory of the civilised world. At that time anti-Semitic doctrine was openly preached, not only against Jews, but against the whole constitutional and revolutionary upheaval. Pogroms against both were organised under the same pretext of saving the Tsar, the orthodoxy, and the Fatherland. Local police and military officials had secret orders to abstain from interference with the looting and murdering of Jews or "their hirelings." Processions of peaceful citizens and children were trampled down by the Cossack horses, and the Cossacks received formal thanks from high quarters for their excellent exploits....
The disturbing stories of more pogroms happening across the country right after the release of the constitutional manifesto on[Pg 189] October 17, 1905, are still vivid in the minds of the civilized world. At that time, anti-Semitic beliefs were openly promoted, targeting not just Jews but also the entire constitutional and revolutionary movement. Pogroms against both were organized under the same excuse of protecting the Tsar, the Church, and the Fatherland. Local police and military leaders had secret instructions to refrain from interfering with the looting and killing of Jews or “their supporters.” Peaceful citizens and children were trampled by Cossack horses, and the Cossacks received formal praise from high officials for their actions....
N. W. Tchaykovsky.
N. W. Tchaikovsky.
(II) A NURSE ON ITS RESULTS
[From Public Health, Nurses' Quarterly, Cleveland, Ohio, October 1913]
[From Public Health, Nurses' Quarterly, Cleveland, Ohio, October 1913]
I was a Red Cross nurse on the battlefield.
I was a Red Cross nurse on the front lines.
The words of the chief doctor of the Jewish Hospital of Odessa still ring in my ears. When the telephone message came, he said, "Moldvanko is running in blood; send nurses and doctors." This meant that the Pogrom (massacre) was going on.
The words of the head doctor of the Jewish Hospital in Odessa still echo in my mind. When the phone call came, he said, "Moldvanko is running in blood; send nurses and doctors." This meant that the pogrom was happening.
Dr. P—— came into the wards with these words: "Sisters, there is no time for weeping. Those who have no one dependent upon them, come. Put on your white surgical gowns, and the red cross. Make ready to go on the battlefield at once. God knows how many of our sisters and brothers are already killed." Tears were just running down his cheeks as he spoke. In a minute twelve nurses and eight doctors had volunteered. There was one Red Cross nurse who was in bed waiting to be operated on. She got up and made ready too. Nobody could keep her from going with us. "Where my sisters and brothers fall, there shall I fall," she said, and with these words, jumped into the ambulance and went on to the City Hospital with us. There they had better equipment, and[Pg 190] they sent out three times as many nurses as the Jewish Hospital. At the City Hospital they hung silver crosses about our necks. We wore the silver crosses so that we would not be recognised as Jewish by the Holiganes (Hooligans).
Dr. P—— walked into the wards and said, "Nurses, we don’t have time to cry. If you don’t have anyone depending on you, come here. Put on your white surgical gowns and the red cross. Get ready to head to the battlefield immediately. God knows how many of our sisters and brothers are already dead." Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he spoke. In a minute, twelve nurses and eight doctors had stepped up to volunteer. There was one Red Cross nurse who was in bed waiting for surgery. She got up and prepared to join us too. No one could stop her from coming along. "Where my sisters and brothers fall, there shall I fall," she declared, and with that, she jumped into the ambulance and went with us to the City Hospital. They had better equipment there, and[Pg 190] they sent out three times as many nurses as the Jewish Hospital. At the City Hospital, they hung silver crosses around our necks. We wore the silver crosses so that the Holiganes (Hooligans) wouldn’t recognize us as Jewish.
Then we went to Molorosiskia Street in the Moldvanko (slums). We could not see, for the feathers were flying like snow. The blood was already up to our ankles on the pavement and in the yards. The uproar was deafening but we could hear the Holiganes' fierce cries of "Hooray, kill the Jews," on all sides. It was enough to hear such words. They could turn your hair grey, but we went on. We had no time to think. All our thoughts were to pick up wounded ones, and to try to rescue some uninjured ones. We succeeded in rescuing some uninjured who were in hiding. We put bandages on them to make it appear that they were wounded. We put them in the ambulance and carried them to the hospital, too. So at the Jewish Hospital we had five thousand injured and seven thousand uninjured to feed and protect for two weeks. Some were left without homes, without clothes, and children were even without parents.
Then we went to Molorosiskia Street in Moldvanko (the slums). We couldn’t see anything because feathers were flying around like snow. The blood was already up to our ankles on the pavement and in the yards. The noise was deafening, but we could hear the Holiganes screaming, "Hooray, kill the Jews," all around us. Just hearing those words was enough to make your hair turn grey, but we kept going. We didn’t have time to think. Our only thoughts were about picking up the wounded and trying to rescue some uninjured people. We managed to save some uninjured individuals who were hiding. We wrapped bandages around them to make it seem like they were hurt. We put them in the ambulance and took them to the hospital as well. So at the Jewish Hospital, we had five thousand injured and seven thousand uninjured to care for and protect for two weeks. Some were left homeless, without clothes, and there were even children without parents.
My dear reader, I want to tell you one thing before I describe the scenes of the massacre any further; do not think that you are reading a story which could not happen! No, I want you to know that everything you read is just exactly as it was. My hair is a little grey, but I am surprised it is not quite white after what I witnessed.
My dear reader, I need to say something before I go on describing the scenes of the massacre; don’t think you’re reading a story that couldn’t happen! No, I want you to understand that everything you read is exactly as it was. My hair is a bit gray, but I’m surprised it’s not completely white after what I witnessed.
The procession of the Pogrom was led by about ten Catholic (Greek) Sisters with about forty or fifty of their school children. They carried ikons or pictures of Jesus and sang "God Save the Tsar." They were followed by a crowd containing hundreds of men and women murderers yelling "Bey Zhida," which means "Kill the Jews." With these words they ran into the yards where there were fifty or a hundred tenants. They rushed in like tigers. Soon they began to throw children out of the windows of the second, third, and fourth stories. They would take a poor, innocent six-months-old baby, who could not possibly have done any harm in this world and[Pg 191] throw it down on to the pavement. You can imagine it could not live after it struck the ground, but this did not satisfy the stony-hearted murderers. They then rushed up to the child, seized it and broke its little arm and leg bones into three or four pieces, then wrung its neck too. They laughed and yelled, so carried away with pleasure at their successful work.
The procession of the Pogrom was led by about ten Catholic (Greek) Sisters with around forty or fifty of their schoolchildren. They carried icons or pictures of Jesus and sang "God Save the Tsar." Behind them was a crowd of hundreds of men and women, shouting "Bey Zhida," which means "Kill the Jews." They charged into the yards where there were fifty or a hundred tenants. They rushed in like wild animals. Soon, they began throwing children out of the windows of the second, third, and fourth floors. They would take a poor, innocent six-month-old baby, who could not have harmed anyone, and throw it down onto the pavement. You can imagine it couldn’t survive after hitting the ground, but this didn’t satisfy the cold-hearted murderers. They then rushed up to the child, grabbed it, and broke its little arms and legs into three or four pieces, then twisted its neck too. They laughed and cheered, completely caught up in the thrill of their horrific actions.
I do wish a few Americans could have been there to see, and they would know what America is, and what it means to live in the United States. It was not enough for them to open up a woman's abdomen and take out the child which she carried, but they took time to stuff the abdomen with straw and fill it up. Can you imagine human beings able to do such things? I do not think anybody could, because I could not imagine it myself when a few years before I read the news of the massacre in Kishineff, but now I have seen it with my own eyes. It was not enough for them to cut out an old man's tongue and cut off his nose, but they drove nails into the eyes also. You wonder how they had enough time to carry away everything of value—money, gold, silver, jewels—and still be able to do so much fancy killing, but oh, my friends, all the time for three days and three nights was theirs.
I really wish some Americans could have been there to see it, so they would understand what America is and what it means to live in the United States. It wasn’t enough for them to open up a woman’s abdomen and take out the child she was carrying; they took the time to stuff the abdomen with straw and fill it up. Can you imagine that human beings could do such things? I don't think anyone could, because I couldn’t even picture it myself when, a few years earlier, I read about the massacre in Kishineff. But now I have seen it with my own eyes. It wasn't enough for them to cut out an old man's tongue and slice off his nose; they also drove nails into his eyes. You wonder how they managed to carry away everything of value—money, gold, silver, jewels—and still have time for such gruesome killing, but, oh my friends, they had all the time in the world for three days and three nights.
The last day and night it poured down rain, and you would think that might stop them, but no, they worked just as hard as ever. We could wear shoes no longer. Our feet were swollen, so we wore rubbers over our stockings, and in this way worked until some power was able to stop these horrors. They not only killed, but they had time to abuse young girls of twelve and fourteen years of age, who died immediately after being operated upon.
The last day and night it poured rain, and you’d think that would stop them, but no, they worked just as hard as ever. We couldn’t wear shoes anymore. Our feet were swollen, so we put on rubbers over our stockings, and this is how we worked until someone could finally put an end to these horrors. They not only killed, but they also had time to abuse young girls who were twelve and fourteen, and they died immediately after being operated on.
I remember what happened to my own class-mates. They were two who came from a small town to Odessa to become midwives. These girls ran to the school to hide themselves as it was a government school, and they knew the Holiganes would not dare to come in there. But the dean of the school had ordered they should not be admitted, because they were Jewish, as if they had different blood running in their veins.[Pg 192] So when they came, the watchman refused to open the doors, according to his instructions. The crowd of Holiganes found them outside the doors of the hospital. They abused them right there in the middle of the street. One was eighteen years old and the other was twenty. One died after the operation and the other went insane from shame.
I remember what happened to my classmates. There were two girls who came from a small town to Odessa to become midwives. They rushed to the school to seek refuge since it was a government school, and they knew the Holiganes wouldn't dare go inside. But the school dean had ordered that they shouldn't be admitted because they were Jewish, as if they had different blood in their veins.[Pg 192] So when they arrived, the watchman refused to open the doors, following his orders. The crowd of Holiganes found them outside the hospital doors. They assaulted them right there in the street. One was eighteen and the other was twenty. One died after the operation, and the other went insane from shame.
Some people ask why the Jews did not leave everything and go away. But how could they go and where could they go? The murderers were scattered throughout the Jewish quarters. All they could do was hide where they were in the cellars and garrets. The Holiganes searched them out and killed them where they were hidden. Others may ask, why did they not resist the murderers with their knives and pistols? The grown men organised by the second day. They were helped by the Vigilantes, too, who brought them arms. The Vigilantes were composed of students at the University and high-school boys, and also the strongest man from each Jewish family. There were a good many Gentiles among the students who belonged to the Vigilantes because they wanted justice. So on the second day the Vigilantes stood before the doors and gave resistance to the murderers. Some will ask where were the soldiers and the police? They were sent to protect, but on arriving, joined in with the murderers. However, the police put disguises on over their uniforms. Later, when they were brought to the hospital with other wounded, we found their uniforms underneath their disguises.
Some people wonder why the Jews didn’t just leave everything behind and escape. But where could they go? The killers were all over the Jewish neighborhoods. Their only option was to hide in cellars and attics. The Holiganes hunted them down and killed them wherever they were hiding. Others might question why they didn’t fight back with their knives and guns. The adult men organized themselves by the second day. They were aided by the Vigilantes, who provided them with weapons. The Vigilantes included students from the university and high school boys, as well as the strongest man from each Jewish family. Many non-Jewish students also joined the Vigilantes because they wanted justice. So on the second day, the Vigilantes stood guard at the doors, resisting the killers. Some might ask where the soldiers and police were. They were sent to protect the community but ended up joining the killers when they arrived. However, the police put disguises over their uniforms. Later, when they were taken to the hospital with the other injured, we discovered their uniforms underneath their disguises.
When the Vigilantes took their stations, the scene was like a battlefield. Bullets were flying from both sides of the Red Cross carriages. We expected to be killed any minute, but notwithstanding, we rushed wherever there were shots heard in order to carry away the wounded. Whenever we arrived we shouted "Red Cross, Red Cross," in order to help make them realise we were not Vigilantes. Then they would stop and let us pick up the wounded. They did this on account of their own wounded.
When the Vigilantes took their positions, the scene looked like a battlefield. Bullets were flying from both sides of the Red Cross carriages. We expected to be killed any moment, but despite that, we rushed toward the sounds of gunfire to carry away the wounded. Whenever we arrived, we shouted "Red Cross, Red Cross," to help them understand that we weren't Vigilantes. Then they would stop and allow us to pick up the injured. They did this for their own wounded.
The Vigilantes could not stop the butchery entirely because they were not strong enough in numbers. On the fourth day,[Pg 193] the Jewish people of Odessa, through Dr. P——, succeeded in communicating to the Mayor of a different State. Soldiers from outside, strangers to the murderers, came in and took charge of the city. The city was put under martial law until order could be restored.
The Vigilantes couldn’t completely stop the slaughter because they didn’t have enough people. On the fourth day,[Pg 193] the Jewish community in Odessa, through Dr. P——, managed to reach out to the Mayor of another State. Soldiers from outside, who weren’t connected to the murderers, arrived and took control of the city. The city was placed under martial law until order could be restored.
On the fifth day the doctors and nurses were called to the cemetery, where there were four hundred unidentified dead. Their friends and relatives who came to search for them were crazed and hysterical and needed our attention. Wives came to look for husbands, parents hunting children, a mother for her only son, and so on. It took eight days to identify the bodies and by that time four hundred of the wounded had died, and so we had eight hundred to bury. If you visit Odessa, you will be shown two long graves, about one hundred feet long, beside the Jewish Cemetery. There lie the victims of the massacre. Among them are Gentile Vigilantes whose parents asked that they be buried with the Jews....
On the fifth day, doctors and nurses were called to the cemetery, where there were four hundred unidentified bodies. The friends and relatives who came to search for them were frantic and hysterical, needing our help. Wives were looking for husbands, parents were searching for children, a mother for her only son, and so on. It took eight days to identify the bodies, and by then, four hundred of the wounded had died, so we had eight hundred to bury. If you visit Odessa, you’ll be shown two long graves, about one hundred feet long, next to the Jewish Cemetery. There lie the victims of the massacre. Among them are Gentile Vigilantes whose parents requested that they be buried alongside the Jews....
Another case I knew was that of a married man. He left his wife, who was pregnant, and three children, to go on a business trip. When he got back the massacre had occurred. His home was in ruins, his family gone. He went to the hospital, then to the cemetery. There he found his wife with her abdomen stuffed with straw, and his three children dead. It simply broke his heart, and he lost his mind. But he was harmless, and was to be seen wandering about the hospital as though in search of some one, and daily he grew more thin and suffering.
Another case I knew about was a married guy. He left his pregnant wife and three kids to go on a work trip. When he came back, the massacre had happened. His home was destroyed, and his family was gone. He went to the hospital and then to the cemetery. There, he found his wife with her stomach filled with straw, and his three kids dead. It completely shattered him, and he lost his mind. But he was harmless, and he could be seen wandering around the hospital as if he was looking for someone, and each day he grew thinner and more distressed.
This story is told in the hope that Americans will appreciate the safety and freedom in which they live and that they will help others to gain that freedom.[Pg 194]
This story is shared with the hope that Americans will recognize the safety and freedom they enjoy and that they will assist others in achieving that freedom.[Pg 194]
APPENDIX C
THE STORY OF DANIEL MELSA
Another example of Nature aping Art is afforded by the romantic story of Daniel Melsa, a young Russo-Jewish violinist who has carried audiences by storm in Berlin, Paris and London, and who had arranged to go to America last November. The following extract from an interview in the Jewish Chronicle of January 24, 1913, shows the curious coincidence between his beginnings and David Quixano's:
Another example of nature imitating art is the romantic story of Daniel Melsa, a young Russo-Jewish violinist who has captivated audiences in Berlin, Paris, and London, and who planned to go to America last November. The following excerpt from an interview in the Jewish Chronicle on January 24, 1913, highlights the strange coincidence between his beginnings and David Quixano's:
"Melsa is not yet twenty years of age, but he looks somewhat older. He is of slight build and has a sad expression, which increased to almost a painful degree when recounting some of his past experiences. He seems singularly devoid of any affectation, while modesty is obviously the keynote of his nature.
"Melsa is not yet twenty years old, but he looks a bit older. He has a slender build and a sad expression that becomes almost painful when he talks about some of his past experiences. He appears completely free of any pretense, and modesty is clearly a defining trait of his personality."
"After some persuasion, Melsa put aside his reticence, and, complying with the request, outlined briefly his career, the early part of which, he said, was overshadowed by a great tragedy. He was born in Warsaw, and, at the age of three, his parents moved to Lodz, where shortly after a private tutor was engaged for him.
"After some convincing, Melsa set aside his hesitation and agreed to share a bit about his career. He mentioned that the beginning of it was marked by a significant tragedy. He was born in Warsaw, and when he was three, his parents relocated to Lodz, where soon after, they hired a private tutor for him."
"'Although I exhibited a passion for music quite early, I did not receive any lessons on the subject till my seventh birthday, but before that my father obtained a cheap violin for me upon which I was soon able to play simple melodies by ear.'
"'Although I showed a passion for music pretty early on, I didn't get any lessons until my seventh birthday. But before that, my dad got me an inexpensive violin, and I was soon able to play simple melodies by ear.'"
"By chance a well-known professor of the town heard him play, and so impressed was he with the talent exhibited by the boy that he advised the father to have him educated. Acting upon this advice, as far as limited means allowed, tutors were engaged, and so much progress did he make that at the age of nine he was admitted to the local Conservatorium of[Pg 195] Professor Grudzinski, where he remained two years. It was at the age of eleven that a great calamity overtook the family, his father and sister falling victims to the pogroms.
"By chance, a well-known professor from the town heard him play, and he was so impressed by the boy's talent that he advised the father to get him an education. Following this advice, and as far as their limited means allowed, they hired tutors. The boy made such progress that by the age of nine, he was accepted into the local Conservatorium of[Pg 195] under Professor Grudzinski, where he stayed for two years. At the age of eleven, a terrible tragedy struck the family when his father and sister became victims of the pogroms."
"Melsa's story runs as follows:
"Melsa's story goes like this:
"'It was in June of 1905, at the time of the pogroms, when one afternoon my father, accompanied by my little sister, ventured out into the street, from which they never returned. They were both killed,' he added sadly, 'by Cossacks. A week later I found my sister in a Christian churchyard riddled with bullets, but I have not been able to trace the remains of my father, who must have been buried in some out-of-the-way place. During this awful period my mother and myself lived in imminent danger of our lives, and it was only the recollection of my playing that saved us also falling a prey to the vodka-besodden Cossacks.'"[Pg 196]
"It was June 1905, during the pogroms, when one afternoon my father took my little sister out into the street, but they never came back. They were both killed," he added sadly, "by Cossacks. A week later, I found my sister in a Christian graveyard, shot full of bullets, but I haven’t been able to find my father's remains, who must have been buried in some remote place. During this terrible time, my mother and I lived in constant danger, and it was only the memory of my playing that kept us from becoming victims of the vodka-fueled Cossacks." [Pg 196]
APPENDIX D
BEILIS AND AMERICA
The close relation in Jewish thought between Russo-Jewish persecution and America as the land of escape from it is well illustrated by the recent remarks of the Jewish Chronicle on the future of the victim of the Blood-Ritual Prosecution in Kieff. "So long as Beilis continues to live in Russia, his life is unsafe. The Black Hundreds, he himself says, have solemnly decided on his death, and we have seen, in the not distant past, that they can carry out diabolical plots of this description with complete immunity.... He would gladly go to America, provided he was sure of a living. The condition should not be difficult to fulfil, and if this victim of a barbarous régime—we cannot say latest victim, for, as we write, comes the news of an expulsion order against 1200 Jewish students of Kieff—should find a home and place under the sheltering wing of freedom, it would be a fitting ending to a painful chapter in our Jewish history."
The close connection in Jewish thought between Russo-Jewish persecution and America as a place of refuge is highlighted by the recent comments from the Jewish Chronicle regarding the future of the victim of the Blood-Ritual Prosecution in Kieff. "As long as Beilis remains in Russia, his life is in danger. The Black Hundreds, he says, have officially decided on his death, and we have witnessed, not too long ago, that they can execute sinister plans like this without facing consequences.... He would be eager to go to America if he could be assured of a livelihood. Meeting this condition shouldn't be too challenging, and if this victim of a brutal régime—we can't call him the latest victim, as we write this, we learn of an expulsion order against 1200 Jewish students from Kieff—were to find a home and support under the protective umbrella of freedom, it would be a fitting conclusion to a painful chapter in our Jewish history."
That it is the natural ending even the Jew-baiting Russian organ, the Novoe Vremya, indirectly testifies, for it has published a sneering cartoon representing a number of Jews crowded on the Statue of Liberty to welcome the arrival of Beilis. One wonders that the Russian censor should have permitted the masses to become aware that Liberty exists on earth, if only in the form of a statue.[Pg 197]
That it is the natural ending even the Jew-baiting Russian newspaper, the Novoe Vremya, indirectly shows, as it has published a mocking cartoon depicting a group of Jews gathered on the Statue of Liberty to welcome Beilis's arrival. One wonders why the Russian censor allowed the public to realize that Liberty exists in the world, even if just as a statue.[Pg 197]
APPENDIX E
THE ALIEN IN THE MELTING POT
Mr. Frederick J. Haskin has recently published in the Chicago Daily News the following graphic summary of what immigrants have done and do for the United States:
Mr. Frederick J. Haskin has recently published in the Chicago Daily News the following detailed summary of what immigrants have contributed to the United States:
I am the immigrant.
I'm the immigrant.
Since the dawn of creation my restless feet have beaten new paths across the earth.
Since the beginning of time, my restless feet have walked new paths across the earth.
My uneasy bark has tossed on all seas.
My anxious ship has been tossed on every sea.
My wanderlust was born of the craving for more liberty and a better wage for the sweat of my face.
My desire to travel came from wanting more freedom and a better pay for my hard work.
I looked towards the United States with eyes kindled by the fire of ambition and heart quickened with new-born hope.
I looked toward the United States with eyes fueled by ambition and a heart filled with newfound hope.
I approached its gates with great expectation.
I walked up to its gates with high hopes.
I entered in with fine hopes.
I came in with high hopes.
I have shouldered my burden as the American man of all work.
I have taken on my responsibilities as the all-purpose American guy.
I contribute eighty-five per cent. of all the labour in the slaughtering and meat-packing industries.
I do eighty-five percent of all the work in the slaughtering and meatpacking industries.
I do seven-tenths of the bituminous coal mining.
I do 70% of the bituminous coal mining.
I do seventy-eight per cent. of all the work in the woollen mills.
I do seventy-eight percent of all the work in the woolen mills.
I contribute nine-tenths of all the labour in the cotton mills.
I do 90% of all the work in the cotton mills.
I make nine-twentieths of all the clothing.
I make 45% of all the clothing.
I manufacture more than half the shoes.
I make more than half of the shoes.
I build four-fifths of all the furniture.
I make 80% of all the furniture.
I make half of the collars, cuffs, and shirts.
I make half of the collars, cuffs, and shirts.
I turn out four-fifths of all the leather.
I produce 80% of all the leather.
I make half the gloves.
I make 50% of the gloves.
I refine nearly nineteen-twentieths of the sugar.
I refine almost ninety-five percent of the sugar.
And yet, I am the great American problem.
And yet, I am the big American issue.
When I pour out my blood on your altar of labour, and lay down my life as a sacrifice to your god of toil, men make no more comment than at the fall of a sparrow.
When I pour out my blood on your altar of work, and give my life as a sacrifice to your god of labor, people make no more remark than at the fall of a sparrow.
But my brawn is woven into the warp and woof of the fabric of your national being.
But my strength is intricately connected to the very essence of your national identity.
My children shall be your children and your land shall be my land because my sweat and my blood will cement the foundations of the America of To-Morrow.
My kids will be your kids, and your land will be my land because my hard work and sacrifice will build the foundations of the America of Tomorrow.
If I can be fused into the body politic, the Melting-Pot will have stood the supreme test.[Pg 199]
If I can be integrated into the society, the Melting-Pot will have passed its ultimate test.[Pg 199]
Afterword
I
The Melting Pot is the third of the writer's plays to be published in book form, though the first of the three in order of composition. But unlike The War God and The Next Religion, which are dramatisations of the spiritual duels of our time, The Melting Pot sprang directly from the author's concrete experience as President of the Emigration Regulation Department of the Jewish Territorial Organisation, which, founded shortly after the great massacres of Jews in Russia, will soon have fostered the settlement of ten thousand Russian Jews in the West of the United States.
The Melting Pot is the third play by the author to be published in book form, though it is the first of the three to be written. However, unlike The War God and The Next Religion, which are adaptations of the spiritual battles of our time, The Melting Pot came directly from the author's personal experience as the head of the Emigration Regulation Department of the Jewish Territorial Organization. This organization, established shortly after the horrific massacres of Jews in Russia, will soon have helped settle ten thousand Russian Jews in the western United States.
"Romantic claptrap," wrote Mr. A. B. Walkley in the Times of "this rhapsodising over music and crucibles and statues of Liberty." As if these things were not the homeliest of realities, and rhapsodising the natural response to them of the Russo-Jewish psychology, incurably optimist. The statue of Liberty is a large visible object at the mouth of New York harbour; the crucible, if visible only to the eye of imagination like the inner reality of the sunrise to the eye of Blake, is none the less a roaring and flaming actuality. These things are as substantial, if not as important, as Adeline Genée and Anna Pavlova, the objects of Mr. Walkley's own rhapsodising. Mr. Walkley, never having lacked Liberty, nor cowered for days in a cellar in terror of a howling mob, can see only theatrical exaggeration in the enthusiasm for a land of freedom, just as, never having known or never having had eyes to see the grotesque and tragic creatures existing all[Pg 200] around us, he has doubted the reality of some of Balzac's creations. It is to be feared that for such a play as The Melting Pot Mr. Walkley is far from being the χαρίεις of Aristotle. The ideal spectator must have known and felt more of life than Mr. Walkley, who resembles too much the library-fed man of letters whose denunciation by Walter Bagehot he himself quotes without suspecting de te fabula narratur. Even the critic, who has to deal with a refracted world, cannot dispense with primary experience of his own. For "the adventures of a soul among masterpieces" it is not only necessary there should be masterpieces, there must also be a soul. Mr. Walkley, one of the wittiest of contemporary writers and within his urban range one of the wisest, can scarcely be accused of lacking a soul, though Mr. Bernard Shaw's long-enduring misconception of him as a brother in the spirit is one of the comedies of literature. But such spiritual vitality as Oxford failed to sterilise in him has been largely torpified by his profession of play-taster, with its divorcement from reality in the raw. His cry of "romantic claptrap" is merely the reaction of the club armchair to the "drums and tramplings" of the street. It is in fact (he will welcome an allusion to Dickens almost as much as one to Aristotle) the higher Podsnappery. "Thus happily acquainted with his own merit and importance, Mr. Podsnap settled that whatever he put behind him he put out of existence.... The world got up at eight, shaved close at a quarter past, breakfasted at nine, went to the City at ten, came home at half-past five, and dined at seven."[Pg 201]
"Romantic nonsense," wrote Mr. A. B. Walkley in the Times about "this over-the-top celebration of music, melting pots, and statues of Liberty." As if these were not the most basic realities, and celebrating them isn’t the natural reaction of the Russo-Jewish mindset, forever optimistic. The statue of Liberty is a large, visible monument at the entrance of New York harbor; the melting pot, even if it can only be seen by the imagination like Blake’s vision of sunrise, is still a roaring and vibrant reality. These are as substantial, if not as significant, as Adeline Genée and Anna Pavlova, the subjects of Mr. Walkley’s own enthusiasm. Mr. Walkley, who has never lacked liberty or hidden in fear of a violent mob, only sees theatrical exaggeration in the love for a land of freedom, just as he has doubted the existence of some of Balzac’s characters because he has never truly witnessed or recognized the grotesque and tragic figures that exist all around us. It is worrying that for a play like The Melting Pot, Mr. Walkley is far from being the ideal spectator as described by Aristotle. The ideal viewer must have experienced and felt more about life than Mr. Walkley, who resembles too much the well-read literary figure described by Walter Bagehot, whom he quotes without realizing that de te fabula narratur. Even a critic, who must navigate a distorted world, cannot ignore their own primary experiences. For "the adventures of a soul among masterpieces," not only must there be masterpieces, but there must also be a soul. Mr. Walkley, one of the cleverest contemporary writers and notably wise within his urban sphere, can hardly be accused of lacking a soul, even though Mr. Bernard Shaw’s long-standing misunderstanding of him as a kindred spirit is one of literature’s comedies. However, any spiritual vitality that Oxford didn’t manage to drain from him has largely been dulled by his role as a critic, which separates him from raw reality. His shout of "romantic nonsense" is simply the reaction of an armchair critic to the "drums and tramplings" of the streets. In fact, it's (he would appreciate a nod to Dickens as much as one to Aristotle) the higher form of smugness. "Thus blissfully aware of his own worth and importance, Mr. Podsnap decided that whatever he left behind was erased from existence.... The world got up at eight, shaved closely at a quarter past, had breakfast at nine, went to the City at ten, returned home at half-past five, and dined at seven."[Pg 201]
Mr. Roosevelt, with his multifarious American experience as soldier and cowboy, hunter and historian, police-captain and President, comes far nearer the ideal spectator, for this play at least, than Mr. Walkley. Yet his enthusiasm for it has been dismissed by our critic as "stupendous naïveté." Mr. Roosevelt apparently falls under that class of "people who knowing no rules, are at the mercy of their undisciplined taste," which Mr. Walkley excludes altogether from his classification of critics, in despite of Dr. Johnson's opinion that "natural judges" are only second to "those who know but are above the rules." It is comforting, therefore, to find Mr. Augustus Thomas, the famous American playwright, who is familiar with the rules to the point of contempt, chivalrously associating himself, in defence of a British rival, with Mr. Roosevelt's "stupendous naïveté."
Mr. Roosevelt, with his diverse American experiences as a soldier, cowboy, hunter, historian, police captain, and President, is much closer to being the ideal viewer for this play than Mr. Walkley. Yet, our critic has dismissed his enthusiasm as "stupendous naïveté." Mr. Roosevelt seems to belong to that group of "people who, knowing no rules, are at the mercy of their undisciplined taste," which Mr. Walkley entirely excludes from his classification of critics, despite Dr. Johnson's view that "natural judges" come in second to "those who know but are above the rules." It's reassuring, then, to see Mr. Augustus Thomas, the well-known American playwright who knows the rules almost to the point of disdain, gallantly standing up for a British rival by associating himself with Mr. Roosevelt's "stupendous naïveté."
"Mr. Zangwill's 'rhapsodising' over music and crucibles and statues of Liberty is," says Mr. Thomas, "a very effective use of a most potent symbolism, and I have never seen men and women more sincerely stirred than the audience at The Melting Pot. The impulses awakened by the Zangwill play were those of wide human sympathy, charity, and compassion; and, for my own part, I would rather retire from the theatre and retire from all direct or indirect association with journalism than write down the employment of these factors by Mr. Zangwill as mere claptrap."
"Mr. Zangwill's enthusiasm for music, melting pots, and statues of Liberty is," says Mr. Thomas, "a very powerful use of strong symbolism, and I have never seen people more genuinely moved than the audience at The Melting Pot. The feelings stirred by Zangwill's play were those of deep human sympathy, kindness, and compassion; and for my part, I would prefer to leave the theater and cut ties with journalism altogether than to describe Mr. Zangwill's use of these elements as nothing more than gimmicky nonsense."
"As a work of art for art's sake," also wrote Mr. William Archer, "the play simply does not exist." He added: "but Mr. Zangwill would not dream of appealing to such a standard." Mr. Archer had the[Pg 202] misfortune to see the play in New York side by side with his more cynical confrère, and thus his very praise has an air of apologia to Mr. Walkley and the great doctrine of "art for art's sake." It would almost seem as if he even takes a "work of art" and a "work of art for art's sake" as synonymous. Nothing, in fact, could be more inartistic. "Art for art's sake" is one species of art, whose right to existence the author has amply recognised in other works. (The King of Schnorrers was even read aloud by Oscar Wilde to a duchess.) But he roundly denies that art is any the less artistic for being inspired by life, and seeking in its turn to inspire life. Such a contention is tainted by the very Philistinism it would repudiate, since it seeks a negative test of art in something outside art—to wit, purpose, whose presence is surely as irrelevant to art as its absence. The only test of art is artistic quality, and this quality occurs perhaps more frequently than it is achieved, as in the words of the Hebrew prophets, or the vision of a slum at night, the former consciously aiming at something quite different, the latter achieving its beauty in utter unconsciousness.
"As a work of art for art's sake," Mr. William Archer also wrote, "the play simply does not exist." He added, "but Mr. Zangwill would never think of appealing to such a standard." Mr. Archer had the[Pg 202] misfortune of seeing the play in New York alongside his more cynical colleague, which means his praise has a tone of justification for Mr. Walkley and the important idea of "art for art's sake." It almost seems like he considers a "work of art" and a "work of art for art's sake" to be the same. Nothing could be more unartistic. "Art for art's sake" is one type of art, and the author has clearly acknowledged its right to exist in other works. (The King of Schnorrers was even read aloud by Oscar Wilde to a duchess.) However, he strongly denies that art is any less artistic for being inspired by life and seeking to inspire life in return. This argument is tainted by the very Philistinism it claims to reject, as it tries to measure art by something outside of it—namely, purpose, which is just as irrelevant to art as its absence. The only measure of art is its artistic quality, and this quality happens more often than it is consciously achieved, as seen in the words of the Hebrew prophets or the vision of a slum at night, with the former aiming for something completely different and the latter achieving its beauty without any awareness.
II
It will be seen from the official table of immigration that the Russian Jew is only one and not even the largest of the fifty elements that, to the tune of nearly a million and a half a year, are being fused in the greatest "Melting Pot" the world has ever known; but if he has been selected as the typical immigrant, it is because he alone of all the fifty has no home[Pg 203]land. Some few other races, such as the Armenians, are almost equally devoid of political power, and, in consequence, equally obnoxious to massacre; but except the gipsy, whose essence is to be homeless, there is no other race—black, white, red, or yellow—that has not remained at least a majority of the population in some area of its own. There is none, therefore, more in need of a land of liberty, none to whose future it is more vital that America should preserve that spirit of William Penn which President Wilson has so nobly characterised. And there is assuredly none which has more valuable elements to contribute to the ethnic and psychical amalgam of the people of to-morrow.
It can be seen from the official immigration stats that the Russian Jew is just one of the fifty groups, and not even the largest, that are blending together in the greatest "Melting Pot" the world has ever seen, with nearly one and a half million people a year; however, he has been chosen as the typical immigrant because he alone among all fifty has no homeland. A few other groups, like the Armenians, are nearly as powerless politically and therefore just as vulnerable to violence; but aside from the gypsies, whose nature is to be without a home, there is no other race—black, white, red, or yellow—that hasn't at least formed a majority in some area of its own. Consequently, there is none more in need of a land of freedom, and none for whom it is more crucial that America maintains the spirit of William Penn, as President Wilson has nobly described. And certainly, there is no group that can contribute more valuable elements to the ethnic and psychological mix of tomorrow's society.
The process of American amalgamation is not assimilation or simple surrender to the dominant type, as is popularly supposed, but an all-round give-and-take by which the final type may be enriched or impoverished. Thus the intelligent reader will have remarked how the somewhat anti-Semitic Irish servant of the first act talks Yiddish herself in the fourth. Even as to the ultimate language of the United States, it is unreasonable to suppose that American, though fortunately protected by English literature, will not bear traces of the fifty languages now being spoken side by side with it, and of which this play alone presents scraps in German, French, Russian, Yiddish, Irish, Hebrew, and Italian.
The process of American blending isn’t just about fitting in or surrendering to the dominant culture, as many think, but rather a mutual exchange that can either enrich or diminish the final result. For instance, an observant reader will notice how the somewhat anti-Semitic Irish servant in the first act speaks Yiddish in the fourth. When it comes to the ultimate language of the United States, it's unrealistic to think that American, while fortunately influenced by English literature, won’t show traces of the fifty languages currently spoken alongside it, and this play alone includes bits of German, French, Russian, Yiddish, Irish, Hebrew, and Italian.
That in the crucible of love, or even co-citizenship, the most violent antitheses of the past may be fused into a higher unity is a truth of both ethics and observation, and it was in order to present historic[Pg 204] enmities at their extremes that the persecuted Jew of Russia and the persecuting Russian race have been taken for protagonists—"the fell incensèd points of mighty opposites."
That in the heat of love, or even shared citizenship, the most intense conflicts of the past can be combined into a greater unity is a truth seen in both ethics and observation. It was to showcase historic enmities at their extremes that the persecuted Jews of Russia and the persecuting Russian people have been chosen as main characters—"the fierce, inflamed points of powerful opposites."
The Jewish immigrant is, moreover, the toughest of all the white elements that have been poured into the American crucible, the race having, by its unique experience of several thousand years of exposure to alien majorities, developed a salamandrine power of survival. And this asbestoid fibre is made even more fireproof by the anti-Semitism of American uncivilisation. Nevertheless, to suppose that America will remain permanently afflicted by all the old European diseases would be to despair of humanity, not to mention super-humanity.
The Jewish immigrant is, furthermore, the strongest of all the white groups that have come together in America, having developed a remarkable ability to survive through thousands of years of dealing with different majorities. This resilience is even tougher because of the anti-Semitism found in American society. However, to think that America will always be burdened by old European issues would be to lose hope in humanity, not to mention in something greater.
III
Even the negrophobia is not likely to remain eternally at its present barbarous pitch. Mr. William Archer, who has won a new fame as student of that black problem, which is America's nemesis for her ancient slave-raiding, and who favours the creation of a Black State as one of the United States, observes: "It is noteworthy that neither David Quixano nor anyone else in the play makes the slightest reference to that inconvenient element in the crucible of God—the negro." This is an oversight of Mr. Archer's, for Baron Revendal defends the Jew-baiting of Russia by asking of an American: "Don't you lynch and roast your niggers?" And David Quixano expressly throws both "black and yellow" into the crucible. No[Pg 205] doubt there is an instinctive antipathy which tends to keep the white man free from black blood, though this antipathy having been overcome by a large minority in all the many periods and all the many countries of their contiguity, it is equally certain that there are at work forces of attraction as well as of repulsion, and that even upon the negro the "Melting Pot" of America will not fail to act in a measure as it has acted on the Red Indian, who has found it almost as facile to mate with his white neighbours as with his black. Indeed, it is as much social prejudice as racial antipathy that to-day divides black and white in the New World; and Sir Sydney Olivier has recorded that in Jamaica the white is far more on his guard and his dignity against the half-white than against the all-black, while in Guiana, according to Sir Harry Johnston in his great work "The Negro in the New World," it is the half-white that, in his turn, despises the black and succeeds in marrying still further whitewards. It might have been thought that the dark-white races on the northern shore of the Mediterranean—the Spaniards, Sicilians, &c.—who have already been crossed with the sons of Ham from its southern shore, would, among the American immigrants, be the natural links towards the fusion of white and black, but a similar instinct of pride and peril seems to hold them back. But whether the antipathy in America be a race instinct or a social prejudice, the accusations against the black are largely panic-born myths, for the alleged repulsive smell of the negro is consistent with being shaved by him, and the immorality of the negress is consistent with her control of the nurseries[Pg 206] of the South. The devil is not so black nor the black so devilish as he is painted. This is not to deny that the prognathous face is an ugly and undesirable type of countenance or that it connotes a lower average of intellect and ethics, or that white and black are as yet too far apart for profitable fusion. Melanophobia, or fear of the black, may be pragmatically as valuable a racial defence for the white as the counter-instinct of philoleucosis, or love of the white, is a force of racial uplifting for the black. But neither colour has succeeded in monopolising all the virtues and graces in its specific evolution from the common ancestral ape, and a superficial acquaintance with the work of Dr. Arthur Keith teaches that if the black man is nearer the ape in some ways (having even the remains of throat-pouches), the white man is nearer in other ways (as in his greater hairiness).
Even the fear of black people is unlikely to remain at its current, brutal level forever. Mr. William Archer, who has gained new recognition as a scholar of that black issue, which remains a haunting problem for America due to its history of slavery, argues for the establishment of a Black State as part of the United States. He notes, "It’s interesting that neither David Quixano nor anyone else in the play mentions the inconvenient factor in the mix—black people." This is a mistake by Mr. Archer because Baron Revendal justifies the Jew-baiting in Russia by asking an American: "Don't you lynch and burn your black people?" And David Quixano explicitly includes both "black and yellow" in the discussion. No[Pg 205] doubt there's an instinctive resistance that tends to keep white people from mixing with black people, though this resistance has been overcome by a significant minority at various times and in various places. It’s also true that there are forces of attraction and connection, just as there are forces of separation, and that even on black individuals, America's "Melting Pot" will have some effect, just like it has on the Native American, who has found it almost as easy to partner with white neighbors as with other Native Americans. In fact, it's as much about social bias as it is about racial dislike that separates black and white in the New World today. Sir Sydney Olivier noted that in Jamaica, white individuals are much more guarded and dignified around mixed-race people than around all-black individuals, while in Guiana, Sir Harry Johnston's significant work "The Negro in the New World" states that it is the mixed-race individuals who, in turn, hold disdain for black people and manage to marry into even whiter circles. It might have been expected that the darker white races on the northern Mediterranean shore—the Spaniards, Sicilians, etc.—who have already mixed with the descendants of Ham from the southern shore, would naturally be the bridge for blending white and black among American immigrants, but a similar sense of pride and fear seems to hold them back. However, whether the animosity in America is a racial instinct or a social bias, the stereotypes against black people are largely myths born of panic, as the supposed unpleasant odor of black individuals holds true even for those who are shaved by them, and the perceived immorality of black women aligns with their caretaking roles in the Southern nurseries[Pg 206]. The devil is not as wicked as he’s portrayed, nor are black individuals as malevolent as depicted. This doesn't mean to ignore that the prognathous face is an unattractive and undesirable feature or that it suggests a below-average level of intelligence and ethics, nor that white and black people are still too far apart for meaningful blending. Melanophobia, or fear of black individuals, may pragmatically serve as a racial defense for white people, just as the opposite instinct of philoleucosis, or affection for white individuals, acts as an uplifting force for black individuals. Yet, neither group has a monopoly on all the virtues and strengths that evolved from our common ancestry with apes, and a basic understanding of Dr. Arthur Keith's research shows that while black individuals may share some physical traits with apes (like the remnants of throat pouches), white individuals may share others (like increased hairiness).
And besides being, as Sir Sydney Olivier says, "a matrix of emotional and spiritual energies that have yet to find their human expression," the African negro has obviously already not a few valuable ethnic elements—joy of life, love of colour, keen senses, beautiful voice, and ear for music—contributions that might somewhat compensate for the dragging-down of the white and, in small doses at least, might one day prove a tonic to an anæmic and art-less America. A musician like Coleridge-Taylor is no despicable product of the "Melting Pot," while the negroes of genius whom the writer has been privileged to know—men like Henry O. Tanner, the painter, and Paul Laurence Dunbar, the poet—show the potentialities of the race even without white admixture; and as[Pg 207] men of this stamp are capable of attracting cultured white wives, the fusing process, beginning at the top with types like these, should be far less unwelcome than that which starts with the dregs of both races. But the negroid hair and complexion being, in Mendelian language, "dominant," these black traits are not easy to eliminate from the hybrid posterity; and in view of all the unpleasantness, both immediate and contingent, that attends the blending of colours, only heroic souls on either side should dare the adventure of intermarriage. Blacks of this temper, however, would serve their race better by making Liberia a success or building up an American negro State, as Mr. William Archer recommends, or at least asserting their rights as American citizens in that sub-tropical South which without their labour could never have been opened up. Meantime, however scrupulously and justifiably America avoids physical intermarriage with the negro, the comic spirit cannot fail to note the spiritual miscegenation which, while clothing, commercialising, and Christianising the ex-African, has given "rag-time" and the sex-dances that go to it, first to white America and thence to the whole white world.
And besides being, as Sir Sydney Olivier says, "a matrix of emotional and spiritual energies that have yet to find their human expression," Black Africans clearly have many valuable traits—enjoyment of life, love of color, sharp senses, beautiful voices, and an ear for music—contributions that might somewhat offset the drawbacks of whites and, in small doses at least, could one day rejuvenate a tired and uninspired America. A musician like Coleridge-Taylor is not a trivial product of the "Melting Pot," and the brilliant Black individuals I've had the privilege to know—like the painter Henry O. Tanner and the poet Paul Laurence Dunbar—demonstrate the potential of the race even without any white influence. As[Pg 207] such men can attract cultured white partners, the merging process, starting with exceptional individuals like these, should be much more welcome than one that begins with the lower classes of both races. However, since Black traits like hair and complexion are, in Mendelian terms, "dominant," these characteristics are hard to eliminate from mixed descendants. Given all the unpleasantness, both immediate and long-term, that comes with blending cultures, only courageous individuals on both sides should risk intermarriage. Those with this mindset would be better off serving their race by making Liberia successful or building an American Black State, as Mr. William Archer suggests, or at least asserting their rights as American citizens in the subtropical South, which could never have been developed without their labor. In the meantime, while America carefully and justifiably avoids physical intermarriage with Blacks, it’s hard to ignore the spiritual blending that, while providing clothing, commercializing, and Christianizing the ex-African, has introduced "ragtime" and the dances that go with it first to white America and then to the entire white world.
The action of the crucible is thus not exclusively physical—a consideration particularly important as regards the Jew. The Jew may be Americanised and the American Judaised without any gamic interaction.[Pg 208]
The action of the crucible is therefore not just physical—a point that is especially significant when it comes to the Jew. The Jew can be Americanized and the American can be Judaized without any direct interaction.[Pg 208]
IV
Among the Jews The Melting Pot, though it has in some instances served to interpret to each other the old generation and the new, has more frequently been misunderstood by both. While a distinguished Christian clergyman wrote that it was "calculated to do for the Jewish race what 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' did for the coloured man," the Jewish pulpits of America have resounded with denunciation of its supposed solution of the Jewish problem by dissolution. As if even a play with a purpose could do more than suggest and interpret! It is true that its leading figure, David Quixano, advocates absorption in America, but even he is speaking solely of the American Jews and asks his uncle why, if he objects to the dissolving process, he did not work for a separate Jewish land. He is not offering a panacea for the Jewish problem, universally applicable. But he urges that the conditions offered to the Jew in America are without parallel throughout the world.
Among the Jews, The Melting Pot has, at times, helped the old generation and the new understand each other, but more often, it has been misunderstood by both. While a prominent Christian clergyman claimed it could do for the Jewish race what 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' did for Black Americans, Jewish leaders in America have criticized it for its supposed solution to the Jewish problem through assimilation. As if even a purposeful play could do anything more than suggest and interpret! It’s true that the main character, David Quixano, supports assimilation in America, but he is only referring to American Jews and asks his uncle why, if he opposes the assimilation process, he doesn’t advocate for a separate Jewish homeland. He’s not proposing a one-size-fits-all solution to the Jewish problem. Instead, he highlights that the opportunities available to Jews in America are unmatched anywhere else in the world.
And, in sooth, the Jew is here citizen of a republic without a State religion—a republic resting, moreover, on the same simple principles of justice and equal rights as the Mosaic Commonwealth from which the Puritan Fathers drew their inspiration. In America, therefore, the Jew, by a roundabout journey from Zion, has come into his own again. It is by no mere accident that when an inscription was needed for the colossal statue of Liberty in New York Harbour, that "Mother of Exiles" whose torch lights the entrance to the New Jerusalem, the best expression[Pg 209] of the spirit of Americanism was found in the sonnet of the Jewess, Emma Lazarus:
And, indeed, the Jew is now a citizen of a republic without a state religion—a republic based on the same basic principles of justice and equal rights as the Mosaic Commonwealth that inspired the Puritan Fathers. In America, then, the Jew, after a long journey from Zion, has found a home. It is no coincidence that when an inscription was needed for the massive statue of Liberty in New York Harbor, that "Mother of Exiles" whose torch illuminates the way to the New Jerusalem, the best expression of the spirit of Americanism was captured in the sonnet by the Jewish woman, Emma Lazarus:
Your gathered people longing for freedom,
The miserable rejects from your crowded shore.
Send these, the homeless, battered by storms, to me,
I hold my lamp next to the golden door.
And if, alas! passing through the golden door, the Jew finds his New Jerusalem as much a caricature by the crumbling of its early ideals as the old became by the fading of the visions of Isaiah and Amos, he may find his mission in fighting for the preservation of the original Hebraic pattern. In this fight he will not be alone, and intermarriage with his fellow-crusaders in the new Land of Promise will naturally follow wherever, as with David Quixano and Vera Revendal, no theological differences divide. There will be neither Jew nor Greek. Intermarriage, wherever there is social intimacy, will follow, even when the parties stand in opposite religious camps; but this is less advisable as leading to a house divided against itself and to dissension in the upbringing of the children. It is only when a common outlook has been reached, transcending the old doctrinal differences, that intermarriage is denuded of those latent discords which the instinct of mankind divines, and which keep even Catholic and Protestant wisely apart.
And if, unfortunately, as he goes through the golden door, the Jew finds his New Jerusalem just as distorted by the decay of its early ideals as the old one was by the fading visions of Isaiah and Amos, he might see his purpose in fighting to maintain the original Hebraic model. In this struggle, he won't be alone, and intermarriage with his fellow fighters in the new Land of Promise will naturally happen wherever, like with David Quixano and Vera Revendal, there are no theological differences separating them. There will be neither Jew nor Greek. Intermarriage will occur wherever there is social closeness, even when the parties come from different religious backgrounds; although this is not advisable as it can lead to a house divided and conflict in raising children. It's only when a shared perspective has been achieved, one that goes beyond old doctrinal differences, that intermarriage is free of the hidden conflicts that human instinct senses, which is why even Catholics and Protestants wisely maintain their distance.
These discords, together with the prevalent anti-Semitism and his own ingrained persistence, tend to preserve the Jew even in the "Melting Pot," so that his dissolution must be necessarily slower than that of[Pg 210] the similar aggregations of Germans, Italians, or Poles. But the process for all is the same, however tempered by specific factors. Beginning as broken-off bits of Germany, Italy, or Poland, with newspapers and theatres in German, Italian, or Polish, these colonies gradually become Americanised, their vernaculars, even when jealously cherished, become a mere medium for American conceptions of life; while in the third generation the child is ashamed both of its parents and their lingo, the newspapers dwindle in circulation, the theatres languish. The reality of this process has been denied by no less distinguished an American than Dr. Charles Eliot, ex-President of Harvard University, whose prophecy of Jewish solidarity in America and of the contribution of Judaism to the world's future is more optimistic than my own. Dr. Eliot points to the still unmelted heaps of racial matter, without suspecting—although he is a chemist—that their semblance of solidity is only kept up by the constant immigration of similar atoms to the base to replace those liquefied at the apex. Once America slams her doors, the crucible will roar like a closed furnace.
These conflicts, along with the widespread anti-Semitism and his own deep-rooted determination, tend to keep the Jew distinct even in the "Melting Pot," which means his assimilation will naturally be slower than that of[Pg 210] the other immigrant groups like Germans, Italians, or Poles. But the overall process is the same, though influenced by specific factors. Starting as fragments of Germany, Italy, or Poland, with newspapers and theaters in German, Italian, or Polish, these communities slowly become Americanized; their languages, even when passionately preserved, turn into just a way to express American ideas of life. By the third generation, children feel embarrassed by their parents and their language, newspaper circulation declines, and theaters struggle. This reality has been acknowledged by no less a figure than Dr. Charles Eliot, former President of Harvard University, who envisions a hopeful future for Jewish unity in America and the role of Judaism in shaping the world. Dr. Eliot notes the still-intact masses of racial identity, unaware—despite being a chemist—that their appearance of solidity is sustained only by the ongoing influx of similar individuals replacing those who have assimilated at the top. Once America closes its doors, the melting pot will roar like a sealed furnace.
Heaven forbid, however, that the doors shall be slammed for centuries yet. The notion that the few millions of people in America have a moral right to exclude others is monstrous. Exclusiveness may have some justification in countries, especially when old and well-populated; but for continents like the United States—or for the matter of that Canada and Australia—to mistake themselves for mere countries is an intolerable injustice to the rest of the human race.[Pg 211]
Heaven forbid that the doors remain closed for centuries to come. The idea that a few million people in America have the moral right to shut others out is outrageous. Being exclusive might make some sense in countries, particularly those that are old and densely populated; but for continents like the United States—or for that matter, Canada and Australia—to think of themselves as just countries is an unacceptable injustice to the rest of humanity.[Pg 211]
The exclusion of criminals even is as impossible in practice as the exclusion of the sick and ailing is unchristian. Infinitely more important were it to keep the gates of birth free from undesirables. As for the exclusion of the able-bodied, whether illiterate or literate, that is sheer economic madness in so empty a continent, especially with the Panama Canal to divert them to the least developed States. Fortunately, any serious restriction will avenge itself not only by the stagnation of many of the States, but by the paralysis of the great liners which depend on steerage passengers, without whom freights and fares will rise and saloon passengers be docked of their sailing facilities. Meantime the inquisition at Ellis Island has to its account cruelties no less atrocious than the ancient Spanish—cruelties that only flash into momentary prominence when some luxurious music-hall lady of dubious morals has a taste of the barbarities meted out daily to blameless and hard-working refugees from oppression or hunger, who, having staked their all on the great adventure, find themselves hustled back, penniless and heartbroken, to the Old World.
Excluding criminals is just as impractical as it is un-Christian to exclude the sick and suffering. It’s far more important to keep the gates of birth open to those who don’t fit in. As for excluding the able-bodied, whether they can read or not, that's just economic madness on such an empty continent, especially with the Panama Canal making it easier to move them to the least developed states. Luckily, any serious restrictions will not only hurt many states but will also paralyze the large ships that rely on steerage passengers. Without them, freight and fare prices will go up, and first-class passengers will find their travel options limited. In the meantime, the scrutiny at Ellis Island has resulted in cruelties that are just as terrible as those committed by the ancient Spanish, which only get attention when some wealthy performer with questionable morals experiences a taste of the barbarities inflicted daily on innocent, hardworking refugees fleeing oppression or hunger. These individuals, having risked everything for a chance at a better life, end up being sent back, broke and heartbroken, to the Old World.
V
Whether any country will ever again be based like those of the Old World upon a unity of race or religion is a matter of doubt. New England, of course, like Pennsylvania and Maryland, owes its inception to religion, but the original impulse has long been submerged by purely economic pressures. And the same motley immigration from the Old World[Pg 212] is building up the bulk of the coming countries. At most, the dominant language gives a semblance of unity and serves to attract a considerable stream of immigrants who speak it, as of Portuguese to Brazil, Spaniards to the Argentine. But the chief magnet remains economic, for Brazil draws six times as many Italians as Portuguese, and the Argentine two and a half times as many Italians as Spanish. It may be urged, of course, that the Italian gravitation to these countries is still a matter of race, and that, in the absence of an El Dorado of his own, the Italian is attracted towards States that are at least Latin. But though Brazil and the Argentine be predominantly Latin, the minority of Germans, Austrians, and Swiss is by no means insignificant. The great modern steamship, in fact—supplemented by its wandering and seductive agent—is playing the part in the world formerly played by invasions and crusades, while the "economic" immigrant is more and more replacing the refugee, just as the purely commercial company working under native law is replacing the Chartered Company which was a law to itself. How small a part in the modern movement is played by patriotism proper may be seen from the avidity with which the farmers of the United States cross the borders to Canada to obtain the large free holdings which enable them to sell off their American properties. How little the proudest tradition counts against the environment is shown in the shame felt by Argentine-born children for the English spoken by their British parents.
Whether any country will ever again be based like those in the Old World on a unity of race or religion is uncertain. New England, like Pennsylvania and Maryland, originated from religious reasons, but that initial drive has long been overshadowed by purely economic pressures. The same diverse immigration from the Old World[Pg 212] is forming the bulk of upcoming nations. At most, the dominant language provides a false sense of unity and helps draw a significant number of immigrants who speak it, like Portuguese to Brazil and Spaniards to Argentina. However, the main attraction remains economic; Brazil attracts six times as many Italians as Portuguese, while Argentina draws two and a half times as many Italians as Spaniards. It could be argued that the Italian migration to these countries is still about race, and that, lacking a land of opportunity of their own, Italians are drawn to states that are at least Latin. But even though Brazil and Argentina are predominantly Latin, the presence of Germans, Austrians, and Swiss is still notable. The modern steamship—along with its wandering and persuasive agents—plays a role in the world that invasions and crusades used to fulfill, while the "economic" immigrant increasingly replaces the refugee, just as the purely commercial company operating under local law is taking the place of the Chartered Company that operated independently. The little role that true patriotism plays in the modern movement can be seen in how eagerly farmers from the United States cross into Canada to secure large free lands that allow them to sell off their properties back in America. The little significance of even the proudest traditions against their environment is evident in the embarrassment felt by Argentine-born children over the English spoken by their British parents.
The difference in the method of importing the ingredients makes thus no difference to the action of[Pg 213] the crucible. Though the peoples now in process of formation in the New World are being recruited by mainly economic forces, it may be predicted they will ultimately harden into homogeneity of race, if not even of belief. For internationalism in religion seems to be again receding in favour of national religions (if, indeed, these were ever more than superficially superseded), at any rate in favour of nationalism raised into religion.
The way the ingredients are brought in doesn't really change how the crucible works. Although the new populations forming in the New World are mostly driven by economic factors, it's likely that they will eventually develop into a more uniform race, if not also a shared belief system. It seems like internationalism in religion is once again fading, making way for national religions (if they were ever more than just a surface-level shift), or at least for nationalism that has taken on a religious aspect.
If racial homogeneity has not yet been evolved completely even in England—and, of course, the tendency can never be more than asymptotic—it is because cheap and easy transport and communication, with freedom of economic movement, have been late developments and are still far from perfect. Hence, there has never been a thorough shake-up and admixture of elements, so that certain counties and corners have retained types and breeds peculiar to them. But with the ever-growing interconnection of all parts of the country, and with the multiplication of labour bureaux, these breeds and types will be—alas, for local colour!—increasingly absorbed in the general mass. For fusion and unification are part of the historic life-process. "Normans and Saxons and Danes" are we here in England, yes and Huguenots and Flemings and Gascons and Angevins and Jews and many other things.
If racial homogeneity hasn’t been fully achieved even in England—and it’s important to note that it likely never will be—it’s because affordable transportation and communication, along with the freedom to move economically, are relatively recent developments and still pretty imperfect. As a result, there hasn’t been a complete mixing of different groups, so certain counties and areas have kept their unique types and backgrounds. However, with the increasing connectivity across the country and the rise of job centers, these unique groups will sadly be absorbed into the larger population, diminishing local diversity. Fusion and unification are part of the ongoing historical process. "Normans and Saxons and Danes" make up who we are here in England, along with Huguenots and Flemings and Gascons and Angevins and Jews, among many others.
In fact, according to Sir Harry Johnston, there is hardly an ethnic element that has not entered into the Englishman, including even the missing link, as the Piltdown skull would seem to testify. The earlier discovery at Galley Hill showed Britannia rising from[Pg 214] the apes with an extinct Tasmanian type, not unlike the surviving aboriginal Australian. Then the west of Britain was invaded by a negroid type from France followed by an Eskimo type of which traces are still to be seen in the West of Ireland and parts of Scotland. Next came the true Mediterranean white man, the Iberian, with dark hair and eyes and a white skin; and then the round-headed people of the Bronze Age, probably Asiatic. And then the Gael, the long-headed, fair-haired Aryan, who ruled by iron and whose Keltic vocabulary was tinged with Iberian, and who was followed by the Brython or Belgian. And, at some unknown date, we have to allow for the invasion of North Britain by another Germanic type, the Caledonian, which would seem to have been a Norse stock, foreshadowing the later Norman Conquest. And, as if this mish-mash was not confusion enough, came to make it worse confounded the Roman conquerors, trailing like a mantle of many colours the subject-races of their far-flung Empire.
In fact, according to Sir Harry Johnston, there's hardly an ethnic element that hasn't blended into the Englishman, even including what seems to be the missing link, as the Piltdown skull suggests. The earlier discovery at Galley Hill showed Britannia emerging from[Pg 214] the apes with an extinct Tasmanian type, similar to the surviving Aboriginal Australians. Then, the west of Britain was invaded by a black type from France, followed by an Eskimo type whose traces can still be seen in the West of Ireland and parts of Scotland. Next came the true Mediterranean white man, the Iberian, with dark hair, dark eyes, and light skin; and then the round-headed people of the Bronze Age, likely of Asiatic origin. After that, the Gael arrived, the long-headed, fair-haired Aryan who ruled with iron and whose Celtic vocabulary had hints of Iberian influence, followed by the Brython or Belgian. At some unknown point, we also have to account for the invasion of North Britain by another Germanic type, the Caledonian, which seems to have been of Norse descent, foreshadowing the later Norman Conquest. And, as if this mix wasn’t confusing enough, along came the Roman conquerors, bringing with them the diverse subject races of their vast Empire like a cloak of many colors.
Is it wonderful if the crucible, capable of fusing such a motley of types into "the true-born Briton," should be melting up its Jews like old silver? The comparison belongs to Mr. Walkley, who was more moved by the beauty of the old and the pathos of its passing than by the resplendence of the new, and who seemed to forget that it is for the dramatist to register both impartially—their conflict constituting another of those spiritual duels which are peculiarly his affair. Jews are, unlike negroes, a "recessive" type, whose physical traits tend to disappear in the blended offspring. There does not exist in England to-day a[Pg 215] single representative of the Jewish families whom Cromwell admitted, though their lineage may be traced in not a few noble families. Thus every country has been and is a "Melting Pot." But America, exhibiting the normal fusing process magnified many thousand diameters and diversified beyond all historic experience, and fed not by successive waves of immigration but by a hodge-podge of simultaneous hordes, is, in Bacon's phrase, an "ostensive instance" of a universal phenomenon. America is the "Melting Pot."
Isn't it amazing that the melting pot, which can blend such a variety of types into "the true-born Briton," is also melting down its Jews like old silver? This comparison comes from Mr. Walkley, who was more affected by the beauty of the old and the sadness of its loss than by the brilliance of the new. He seemed to forget that it's the playwright's job to capture both sides equally—their struggle represents another one of those spiritual conflicts that are uniquely his concern. Unlike black people, Jews are a "recessive" type, whose physical features tend to fade in their mixed descendants. There isn't a single representative today in England from the Jewish families that Cromwell allowed in, although their lineage can be traced in several noble families. Thus, every country has been and continues to be a "Melting Pot." However, America, showcasing the typical fusion process magnified thousands of times and diversified beyond any historical experience, and fed not by waves of immigration but by a mix of simultaneous groups, is, in Bacon's words, an "obvious example" of a universal phenomenon. America is the "Melting Pot."
Her people has already begun to take on such a complexion of its own, it is already so emphatically tending to a new race, crossed with every European type, that the British illusion of a cousinly Anglo-Saxon people with whom war is unthinkable is sheer wilful blindness. Even to-day, while the mixture is still largely mechanical not chemical, the Anglo-Saxon element is only preponderant; it is very far from being the sum total.
Her people have already started to take on a distinct identity of their own. They are clearly evolving into a new race, mixed with various European types, making the British belief in a harmonious Anglo-Saxon kinship—where war seems impossible—an act of willful ignorance. Even today, while the mix is still mostly superficial rather than deep-rooted, the Anglo-Saxon influence is just the majority; it is far from being everything.
VI
While our sluggish and sensual English stage has resisted and even burked the writer's attempt to express in terms of the theatre our European problems of war and religion, and to interpret through art the "years of the modern, years of the unperformed," it remains to be acknowledged with gratitude that this play, designed to bring home to America both its comparative rawness and emptiness and its true significance and potentiality for history and civilisation, has been universally acclaimed by Americans[Pg 216] as a revelation of Americanism, despite that it contains only one native-born American character, and that a bad one. Played throughout the length and breadth of the States since its original production in 1908, given, moreover, in Universities and Women's Colleges, passing through edition after edition in book form, cited by preachers and journalists, politicians and Presidential candidates, even calling into existence a "Melting Pot" Club in Boston, it has had the happy fortune to contribute its title to current thought, and, in the testimony of Jane Addams, to "perform a great service to America by reminding us of the high hopes of the founders of the Republic."
While our slow and indulgent English theater has resisted and even pushed back against the writer's efforts to address our European issues of war and religion, and to express through art the "years of the modern, years of the unperformed," we must acknowledge with gratitude that this play, aimed at highlighting both America's relative rawness and emptiness as well as its true significance and potential for history and civilization, has been widely celebrated by Americans[Pg 216] as a revelation of American identity, despite featuring only one native-born American character, who is not a good one. Since its original production in 1908, it has been performed across the entire country, presented in universities and women's colleges, published in numerous editions, and frequently quoted by preachers, journalists, politicians, and presidential candidates. It even inspired the creation of a "Melting Pot" Club in Boston, enjoying the fortunate legacy of contributing its title to contemporary discourse, and, in the words of Jane Addams, to "perform a great service to America by reminding us of the high hopes of the founders of the Republic."
I. Z.
I. Z.
January 1914.
January 1914.
Printed in the United States of America.
Made in the USA.
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