Part 2
You weren’t raised round here, were you? [_MRS. PETERS shakes her head._] You didn’t know--her?
MRS. PETERS
Not till they brought her yesterday.
MRS. HALE
She--come to think of it, she was kind of like a bird herself--real sweet and pretty, but kind of timid and--fluttery. How?--she--did--change. [_Silence; then as if struck by a happy thought and relieved to get back to every day things._] Tell you what, Mrs. Peters, why don’t you take the quilt in with you? It might take up her mind.
MRS. PETERS
Why, I think that’s a real nice idea, Mrs. Hale. There couldn’t possibly be any objection to it, could there? Now, just what would I take? I wonder if her patches are in here--and her things.
[_They look in the sewing basket._
MRS. HALE
Here’s some red. I expect this has got sewing things in it. [_Brings out a fancy box._] What a pretty box. Looks like something somebody would give you. Maybe her scissors are in here. [_Opens box. Suddenly puts her hand to her nose._] Why--[_MRS. PETERS bends nearer, then turns her face away._] There’s something wrapped up in this piece of silk.
MRS. PETERS
Why, this isn’t her scissors.
MRS. HALE
[_Lifting the silk._] Oh, Mrs. Peters--its--
[_MRS. PETERS bends closer._
MRS. PETERS
It’s the bird.
MRS. HALE
[_Jumping up._] But, Mrs. Peters--look at it! Its neck! Look at its neck! It’s all--other side _to_.
MRS. PETERS
Somebody--wrung--its--neck.
[_Their eyes meet. A look of growing comprehension, of horror. Steps are heard outside. MRS. HALE slips box under quilt pieces, and sinks into her chair. Enter SHERIFF and COUNTY ATTORNEY. MRS. PETERS rises._
COUNTY ATTORNEY
[_As one turning from serious things to little pleasantries._] Well, ladies, have you decided whether she was going to quilt it or knot it?
MRS. PETERS
We think she was going to--knot it.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
Well, that’s interesting, I’m sure. [_Seeing the bird-cage._] Has the bird flown?
MRS. HALE
[_Putting more quilt pieces over the box._] We think the--cat got it.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
[_Preoccupied._] Is there a cat?
[_MRS. HALE glances in a quick covert way at MRS. PETERS._
MRS. PETERS
Well, not _now_. They’re superstitious, you know. They leave.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
[_To SHERIFF PETERS, continuing an interrupted conversation._] No sign at all of anyone having come from the outside. Their own rope. Now let’s go up again and go over it piece by piece. [_They start upstairs._] It would have to have been someone who knew just the--
[_MRS. PETERS sits down. The two women sit there not looking at one another, but as if peering into something and at the same time holding back. When they talk now it is in the manner of feeling their way over strange ground, as if afraid of what they are saying, but as if they can not help saying it._
MRS. HALE
She liked the bird. She was going to bury it in that pretty box.
MRS. PETERS
[_In a whisper._] When I was a girl--my kitten--there was a boy took a hatchet, and before my eyes--and before I could get there--[_Covers her face an instant._] If they hadn’t held me back I would have--[_Catches herself, looks upstairs where steps are heard, falters weakly_]--hurt him.
MRS. HALE
[_With a slow look around her._] I wonder how it would seem never to have had any children around. [_Pause._] No, Wright wouldn’t like the bird--a thing that sang. She used to sing. He killed that, too.
MRS. PETERS
[_Moving uneasily._] We don’t know who killed the bird.
MRS. HALE
I knew John Wright.
MRS. PETERS
It was an awful thing was done in this house that night, Mrs. Hale. Killing a man while he slept, slipping a rope around his neck that choked the life out of him.
MRS. HALE
His neck. Choked the life out of him.
[_Her hand goes out and rests on the bird-cage._
MRS. PETERS
[_With rising voice._] We don’t know who killed him. We don’t _know_.
MRS. HALE
[_Her own feeling not interrupted._] If there’d been years and years of nothing, then a bird to sing to you, it would be awful--still, after the bird was still.
MRS. PETERS
[_Something within her speaking._] I know what stillness is. When we homesteaded in Dakota, and my first baby died--after he was two years old, and me with no other then--
MRS. HALE
[_Moving._] How soon do you suppose they’ll be through, looking for the evidence?
MRS. PETERS
I know what stillness is. [_Pulling herself back._] The law has got to punish crime, Mrs. Hale.
MRS. HALE
[_Not as if answering that._] I wish you’d seen Minnie Foster when she wore a white dress with blue ribbons and stood up there in the choir and sang. [_A look around the room._] Oh, I _wish_ I’d come over here once in a while! That was a crime! That was a crime! Who’s going to punish that?
MRS. PETERS
[_Looking upstairs._] We mustn’t--take on.
MRS. HALE
I might have known she needed help! I know how things can be--for women. I tell you, it’s queer, Mrs. Peters. We live close together and we live far apart. We all go through the same things--it’s all just a different kind of the same thing. [_Brushes her eyes, noticing the bottle of fruit, reaches out for it._] If I was you I wouldn’t tell her her fruit was gone. Tell her it _ain’t_. Tell her it’s all right. Take this in to prove it to her. She--she may never know whether it was broke or not.
MRS. PETERS
[_Takes the bottle, looks about for something to wrap it in; takes petticoat from the clothes brought from the other room, very nervously begins winding this around the bottle. In a false voice._] My, it’s a good thing the men couldn’t hear us. Wouldn’t they just laugh! Getting all stirred up over a little thing like a--dead canary. As if that could have anything to do with--with--wouldn’t they _laugh_!
[_The men are heard coming down stairs._
MRS. HALE
[_Under her breath._] Maybe they would--maybe they wouldn’t.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
No, Peters, it’s all perfectly clear except a reason for doing it. But you know juries when it comes to women. If there was some definite thing. Something to show--something to make a story about--a thing that would connect up with this strange way of doing it--
[_The women’s eyes meet for an instant. Enter HALE from outer door._
HALE
Well, I’ve got the team around. Pretty cold out there.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
I’m going to stay here a while by myself. [_To the SHERIFF._] You can send Frank out for me, can’t you? I want to go over everything. I’m not satisfied that we can’t do better.
SHERIFF
Do you want to see what Mrs. Peters is going to take in?
[_The LAWYER goes to the table, picks up the apron, laughs._
COUNTY ATTORNEY
Oh, I guess they’re not very dangerous things the ladies have picked out. [_Moves a few things about, disturbing the quilt pieces which cover the box. Steps back._] No, Mrs. Peters doesn’t need supervising. For that matter, a sheriff’s wife is married to the law. Ever think of it that way, Mrs. Peters?
MRS. PETERS
Not--just that way.
SHERIFF
[_Chuckling._] Married to the law. [_Moves toward the other room._] I just want you to come in here a minute, George. We ought to take a look at these windows.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
[_Scoffingly._] Oh, windows!
SHERIFF
We’ll be right out, Mr. Hale.
[_HALE goes outside. The SHERIFF follows the COUNTY ATTORNEY into the other room. Then MRS. HALE rises, hands tight together, looking intensely at MRS. PETERS, whose eyes make a slow turn, finally meeting MRS. HALE’S. A moment MRS. HALE holds her, then her own eyes point the way to where the box is concealed. Suddenly MRS. PETERS throws back quilt pieces and tries to put the box in the bag she is wearing. It is too big. She opens box, starts to take bird out, cannot touch it, goes to pieces, stands there helpless. Sound of a knob turning in the other room. MRS. HALE snatches the box and puts it in the pocket of her big coat. Enter COUNTY ATTORNEY and SHERIFF._
COUNTY ATTORNEY
[_Facetiously._] Well, Henry, at least we found out that she was not going to quilt it. She was going to--what is it you call it, ladies?
MRS. HALE
[_Her hand against her pocket._] We call it--knot it, Mr. Henderson.
(CURTAIN)
* * * * *
THE PEOPLE
A PLAY IN ONE ACT
* * * * *
First performed by the Provincetown Players, New York, March 9, 1917
ORIGINAL CAST
EDWARD WILLS, _Editor of_ “_The People_” GEORGE CRAM COOK OSCAR TRIPP, _Associate Editor_ PENDLETON KING THE ARTIST DONALD CORLEY SARA NINA MOISE TOM HOWE, _Printer_ LEWIS B. ELL THE BOY _from Georgia_ LESLIE C. BEMIS THE MAN _from the Cape_ IRA REMSEN THE WOMAN _from Idaho_ SUSAN GLASPELL THE EARNEST APPROACH LEW PARRISH THE LIGHT TOUCH PIERRE LOVING THE FIREBRAND HARRY KEMP THE PHILOSOPHER HUTCHINSON COLLINS
THE PEOPLE
SCENE: _The office of “The People,” a morning in March, 1917. There is little furniture--a long table strewn with manuscripts and papers, a desk. On the walls are revolutionary posters; wads of paper are thrown about on the floor--the office of a publication which is radical and poor. This is an inner office; at the rear is the door into the outer one. OSCAR is seated at the table writing. TOM, a printer who loves the cause--or the crowd--almost enough to print for it, comes from the other room, a galley-proof in his hand._
TOM
Why are you writing?
OSCAR
[_Jauntily._] Because I am a writer.
TOM
But I thought you said there wasn’t going to be another issue of _The People_.
OSCAR
[_With dignity._] I am writing.
TOM
There’s a woman here with a suit case.
OSCAR
What’s in it?
TOM
She wants to see the Editor.
OSCAR
[_After writing._] All right.
[_TOM goes out and a moment later the woman appears. She is middle aged, wears plain clothes not in fashion. Her manner is a little shrinking and yet as she stands in the doorway looking about the bare room, her face is the face of one who has come a long way and reached a wonderful place._
THE WOMAN
This _is_ the office of _The People_?
OSCAR
Um-hum.
THE WOMAN
[_In a bated way._] I came to see the author of those wonderful words.
OSCAR
[_Rising._] Which wonderful words?
THE WOMAN
About moving toward the beautiful distances.
OSCAR
Oh. Those are Mr. Wills’ wonderful words.
[_Begins to write as one who has lost interest._
THE WOMAN
Could I see him?
OSCAR
He isn’t here yet. He’s just back from California. Won’t be at the office till a little later.
THE WOMAN
[_With excitement._] He has been to California? He has just ridden across this country?
OSCAR
Yes. Long trip. He was very cross over the ’phone.
THE WOMAN
Oh--no. I think you’re mistaken.
OSCAR
Anything you care to see me about?
THE WOMAN
[_After considering._] I could see him a little later, couldn’t I?
OSCAR
Yes, if its important. Of course he’ll be very busy.
THE WOMAN
It is important. At least--yes, it is important.
OSCAR
Very well then--later in the morning.
THE WOMAN
[_Thinking aloud._] I will stand down on the street and watch the people go by.
OSCAR
What?
THE WOMAN
The people. It’s so wonderful to see them--so many of them. Don’t you often just stand and watch them?
OSCAR
No, madam, not often. I am too busy editing a magazine about them.
THE WOMAN
Of course you are busy. You help edit this magazine?
[_Looks about at the posters._
OSCAR
I am associate editor of _The People_.
THE WOMAN
That’s a great thing for you--and you so young. Does Mr. Wills write in this room?
OSCAR
That is his desk.
THE WOMAN
[_Looking at the desk._] It must be a wonderful thing for you to write in the same room with him.
OSCAR
Well, I don’t know; perhaps it is a wonderful thing for him to--I am Oscar Tripp, the poet.
THE WOMAN
[_Wistfully._] It would be beautiful to be a poet. [_Pause._] I will come back later.
[_Picks up suit-case._
OSCAR
Just leave that if you aren’t going to be using it in the meantime.
THE WOMAN
[_Putting it down near the door._] Oh, thank you. I see you are a kind young man.
OSCAR
That is not the general opinion.
THE WOMAN
I wonder why it is that the general opinion is so often wrong?
[_Stands considering it for a moment, then goes out._
OSCAR
I don’t quite understand that woman.
[_TOM comes back._
TOM
If this paper can’t go on, I ought to know it. I could get a job on the _Evening World_. [_Oscar continues writing._] Can it go on?
OSCAR
I don’t see how it can, but many a time I haven’t seen how it could--and it did. Doubtless it will go on, and will see days so much worse than these that we will say, “Ah, the good old days of March, 1917.”
TOM
But can it pay salaries?
OSCAR
[_Shocked._] Oh, no, I think not; but we must work because we love our work.
TOM
We must eat because we love our food.
OSCAR
You’ll know soon. There’s to be a meeting here this morning.
[_Enter SARA. TOM goes into the other room. SARA has the appearance of a young business woman and the simple direct manner of a woman who is ready to work for a thing she believes in._
SARA
Ed not here yet?
OSCAR
No.
SARA
Did he get any money?
OSCAR
Doesn’t look like it. He was snappish over the phone. Guess he’s for giving it up this time.
SARA
I don’t want to give it up.
[_She takes a seat at the table where OSCAR is writing and unfolds a manuscript she has brought with her._
OSCAR
Well, it’s not what we want, it’s what people want, and there aren’t enough of them who want us.
SARA
The fault must lie with us.
OSCAR
I don’t think so. The fault lies with the failure to--
[_THE ARTIST has entered._
ARTIST
I’ll tell you where the fault lies. We should give more space to pictures and less to stupid reading matter.
OSCAR
We have given too much expensive white paper to pictures and too little to reading matter--especially to poetry. That’s where the fault lies.
[_Enter EDWARD WILLS, editor._
ED
I’ll tell you where the fault lies. [_Points first to THE ARTIST, then to OSCAR._] Here! Just this! Everybody plugging for his own thing. Nobody caring enough about the thing as a whole.
OSCAR
[_Rising._] I’ll tell you where the fault lies. [_Points to ED._] Here! This. The Editor-in-chief returning from a long trip and the first golden words that fall from his lips words of censure for his faithful subordinates.
SARA
How are you Ed?
ED
Rotten. I hate sleeping cars. I always catch cold.
SARA
Any luck?
ED
[_His hand around his ear._] What’s the word?
[_Enter THE EARNEST APPROACH._
EARNEST APPROACH
I have heard that you may have to discontinue.
ED
[_Sitting down at his desk, beginning to look through his mail._] It seems we might as well.
EARNEST APPROACH
Now just let me tell you what the trouble has been and how you can remedy it. _The People_ has been afraid of being serious. But you deal with ideas, and you must do it soberly. There is a place for a good earnest journal of protest, but all this levity--this fooling--
[_Enter THE LIGHT TOUCH._
LIGHT TOUCH
Came in to see you, Ed, to say I hope the news I’m hearing isn’t true.
ED
If it’s bad, it’s true.
LIGHT TOUCH
Well, it’s an awful pity, but you’ve been too damn serious. A lighter touch--that’s what _The People_ needs. You’re as heavy as mud. Try it awhile longer along frivolous lines. I was in the building and just ran in to let you have my idea of what’s the matter with you.
OSCAR
If we had as many subscribers as we have people to tell us what’s the matter with us--
[_Enter PHILOSOPHER and FIREBRAND, TOM follows them in, a page of manuscript in his hand._
ED
Now the Philosopher and the Firebrand will tell us what’s the matter with us.
FIREBRAND
Too damn bourgeois! You should print on the cover of every issue--“To hell with the bourgeoisie!” Pigs!
PHILOSOPHER
The trouble with this paper is efficiency.
[_This is too much for all of them. The PRINTER falls back against the wall, then staggers from the room._
ED
Dear God! There are things it seems to me I can _not_ bear.
PHILOSOPHER
It should be more carelessly done, and then it would be more perfectly done. You should be less definite, and you would have more definiteness. You should not know what it is you want, and then you would find what you are after.
OSCAR
You talk as if we had not been a success. But just last night I heard of a woman in Bronxville who keeps _The People_ under her bed so her husband won’t know she’s reading it.
FIREBRAND
If you had been a success you would have fired that woman with so great a courage that she would proudly prop _The People_ on the pillow!
ARTIST
[_Who is sketching THE FIREBRAND._] It was my pictures got us under the bed.
OSCAR
[_Haughtily._] I was definitely told it was my last “Talk with God” put us under the bed.
FIREBRAND
Can you not see that she puts you under the bed because you yourselves have made concessions to the bourgeoisie? Cows! Geese!
ARTIST
It must be more frivolous!
OSCAR
It must print more poetry.
[_They glare at one another._
EARNEST APPROACH
It should be more serious.
LIGHT TOUCH
It must be more frivolous!
[_Enter THE BOY from Georgia--dressed like a freshman with a good allowance._
THE BOY
Is this the office of _The People_?
OSCAR
No, this is a lunatic asylum.
THE BOY
[_After a bewildered moment._] Oh, you’re joking. You know [_Confidentially_], I wondered about that--whether you would joke here. I thought you would. [_Stepping forward._] I came to see the Editor--I want to tell him--
ED
So many people are telling me so many things, could you tell yours a little later?
THE BOY
Oh, yes. Of course there must be many important things people have to tell you.
ED
Well--many.
[_THE BOY goes out--reluctantly._
ARTIST
[_Who has all the time been glaring at OSCAR._] Speaking for the artists, I want to say right now--
OSCAR
Speaking for the writers, I wish to say before we go further--
EARNEST APPROACH
A more serious approach--
LIGHT TOUCH
A lighter touch--
FIREBRAND
Speaking for myself--
PHILOSOPHER
Speaking for the truth--
[_Phone rings, OSCAR answers. Enter THE MAN from the Cape--slow, heavy._
ED
You have come to tell us something about this paper?
THE MAN
Yes.
ED
There are a number ahead of you. Will you wait your turn? [_A look of disappointment._] I’ll be glad to see you as soon as I can. There in the outside office?
[_A moment THE MAN stands there, a mute ponderous figure, then very slowly goes out._
OSCAR
[_Hanging up receiver._] Moritz Paper Company. Bill got to be paid today. And here--
[_Takes from his drawer a huge packet of bills._
EARNEST APPROACH
You could pay your bills if you were not afraid to be serious!
LIGHT TOUCH
You could pay your bills if you were not afraid to be gay!
EARNEST APPROACH
[_From the door, solemnly._] A more earnest approach would save _The People_.
LIGHT TOUCH
A lighter touch would turn the trick!
[_With that they leave._
FIREBRAND
[_Going over and pounding on THE EDITOR’S desk._] To hell with the bourgeoisie! Apes!
PHILOSOPHER
Efficiency has put out the spark.
ED
Well, as long as the spark appears to be good and out, may I, in the name of efficiency, ask you who do not belong here to retire, that we may go ahead with our work?
PHILOSOPHER
There would be greater efficiency in our remaining. There would be form. You have lacked form.
FIREBRAND
You have lacked courage! Donkeys!
ED
It would be illuminating, Leo, to hear you run through the animal kingdom--toads, crocodiles, a number of things you haven’t mentioned yet, but the animal kingdom is large--and we have work to do.
PHILOSOPHER
You lack form in your work. By form I do not mean what you think I mean. I mean that particular significance of the insignificant which is the fundamental--
ED
We couldn’t understand it. Why tell us?
PHILOSOPHER
No. You couldn’t understand it.
[_He leaves them to their fate._
FIREBRAND
Rest in peace. [_Gesture of benediction. Then hissingly._] Centipedes!
[_He goes--leaving a laugh behind him._
ED
What’s the matter with us is our friends.
SARA
[_Quietly._] Well, to be or not to be. I guess it’s up to you, Ed.
ED
Just what would we be going on for? To make a few more people like the dear ones who have just left us? Seems to me we could best serve society by not doing that. Precisely what do we do?--aside from getting under the bed in Bronxville. Now and then something particularly rotten is put over and we have a story that gets a rise out of a few people, but--we don’t change anything.
SARA
We had another hope. We were going to express ourselves so simply and so truly that we would be expressing the people.
ED
[_Wearily._] The People. I looked at them all the way across this continent. Oh, I got so tired looking at them--on farms, in towns, in cities. They’re like toys that you wind up and they’ll run awhile. They don’t want to be expressed. It would topple them over. The longer I looked the more ridiculous it seemed to me that we should be giving our lives to--[_Picks up the magazine and reads._] _The People_--“A Journal of the Social Revolution.” Certainly we’d better cut the sub-title. The social revolution is dead.
OSCAR
You don’t think you are bringing back any news, do you, Ed?
ARTIST
[_Taking up magazine._] Instead of a sub-title we could have a design. Much better.
[_Glares at OSCAR, then begins to draw._
SARA
This is a long way from what you felt a year ago, Ed. You had vision then.
ED
You can’t keep vision in this office. It’s easy enough to have a beautiful feeling about the human race when none of it is around. The trouble about doing anything for your fellow-man is that you have to do it with a few of them. Oh, of course that isn’t fair. We care. I’ll say that for us. Even Oscar cares, or he wouldn’t work the way he has. But what does our caring come to? It doesn’t connect up with anything, and God knows it doesn’t seem to be making anything very beautiful of us. There’s something rather pathetic about us.
OSCAR
Or is it merely ridiculous?
SARA