Class Book.__JM_^^fc___ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIR ^- iO V iK^ -ry •? THE MELTING-POT THE MACMILLAN COMPANY NEW YORK - BOSTON - CHICAGO ATLANTA - SAN FRANCISCO MACMILLAN & CO., Limited LONDON - BOMBAY • CALCUTTA MELBOURNE THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. TORONTO THE MELTING-POT DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS BY ISRAEL ZANGWILL AUTHOR OF " CHILDREN OF THE GHETTO," " MERELY MARY ANN," ETC., ETC. THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 1909 A2l rights reserved LIBRARY of CONGRESS Two Copies Received Copynghi Entry CLASS *^ AXc. NO. ^^cV Copyright, 1909, By the MACMILLAN COMPANY. Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1909. NotfaoolJ ^tess J. S. Gushing Co. — lleiw ick & Smith Co. Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 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 NOTE The rights of performing or translating this play, which is published simultaneously in England and America and has been performed in both countries, are strictly reserved by the author. The perform- ing rights for the United States and Canada have been exclusively acquired by Messrs. Liebler and Co., to whom, as to Mr. Hugh Ford, the Stage-producer, and to Mr. Walker Whiteside and the rest of the players, the author desires to express his indebted- ness for their artistic execution of his ideas. THE CAST [As first produced at the Columbia Theatre, Washington, on the fifth of October, 1908] 3 David Quixano Walker Whiteside Mendel Quixano Henry Bergman _:> Baron Revendal John Blair ^ Quincy Davenport, Jr Grant Stewart > Herr Pappelmeister Henry Vogel i Vera Revendal Chrystal Heme ^ Baroness Revendal Leonora Von Ottinger Frau Quixano Louise Muldener Kathleen O'Reilly Mollie Revel 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 st)'le. Nailed on the right- hand door-post gleams a Mezuzah, a small metal case, containing a Biblical passage. On the right of the door is a small hat-stand holding Mendel's ovei'coat, um- brella, etc. There are two windows, one on either side of the door, and tht'ee other exits, one down-stage on the left leading to the stairs and family bedrooms, 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 inusic-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 tvall 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 re^ cloth and a litter of objects, music, and tiewspapers. The fireplace, in which a fire is bui-ning, occupies the centre of the right B I 2 THE MELTING-POT 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 stafids against the back wall on the right. There are a few cheap chairs. The whole effect is a curious blend of shab- biness, Americanism, Jeivishness, atid tnusic, 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 Jewis^ face, pathetically furrowed by misfortunes, and a short grizzled beard.'\ MENDEL Good-bye, Johnny ! . . . And don't forget to prac- tise your scales. [Shutting door, shivers.] Ugh ! It'll snow again, I guess. [He yawns, heaves great sigh of relief, walks toward the table, and perceives a music-roll^ The chump ! He's forgotten his music ! [He picks it up and runs toward the window on the left, muttering furiously i\ Brainless, earless, thumb-fingered Gentile ! [Throwing open the window?^ Here, Johnny ! You can't practise your scales if you leave 'em here ! [He throws out the music-roll and shivers again at the cold as he shuts the window?^ THE MELTING-POT 3 Ugh ! And I must go out to that miserable dancing class to scrape the rent together. \_He goes to the fire and warms his hands. '\ Ach Gott ! What a life ! What a life ! \_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 a7i instant an irate Irish voice is heard fro7n behind the kitchen door.'\ KATHLEEN \Without?^ Divil take the butther ! I wouldn't put up with ye, not for a hundred dollars a week. MENDEL \Raising himself to listen, heaves great sigh?)^ Ach! Mother and Kathleen again ! KATHLEEN \_Still louder. '\ Pots and pans and plates and knives. Sure 'tis enough to make a saint chrazy. FRAU QUIXANO \_Equally loudly from kitchen^ Wos schreist dti ? Gott iti Hinimel, dieses America ! KATHLEEN \_Opening door of kitchoi toward the end of Frau Quixano's speech, but turning back, with her hand visible on the door.'\ 4 THE MELTING-POT 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. MENDEL One's very servants are anti-Semites, KATHLEEN \_Banging door as she enters excitedly, carrying a folded white table-cloth. She is a pretty Irish maid of all work. '\ Bad luck to me, if iver I take sarvice again with liaythen Jews. \She perceives Mendel huddled up on the armchair, gives a little scream, and drops the cloth.'\ Och, I thought ye was out! MENDEL \_Rising.~\ And so you dared to be rude to my mother. KATHLEEN \_Atigrily, as she picks up the cloth.'\ She said I put mate on a butther-plate. MENDEL Well, you know that's against her religion. KATHLEEN But I didn't do nothing of the soort. I ounly put butther on a mate-plate. THE MELTING-POT 5 MENDEL That's just as bad. What the Bible forbids — KATHLEEN \^Lays the cloth on a chair and vigorotisly clears off the litter 0/ things on the table. ~\ Sure, the Pope himself couldn't remimber it all. Why don't ye have a sinsible religion.? MENDEL You are impertinent. Attend to your work. [Zrs back his pistol, a little ashamedJ] BARONESS Ze Intellectuals and ze Bund, zey all hate my hus- band because he is faizful to Christ [ Crossing herself.'] and ze Czar. QUINCY But the Intellectuals are in Russia. BARON They have their branches here — the refugees are the leaders — it is a diabolical network. QUINCY Well, anyhow, zve'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. 1 1 2 THE MEL TING-POT BARON A thousand thanks. [ Wiping his forehead. '\ But surely no gentleman would sit in the public car, squeezed between workingmen and shop-girls, not to say Jews and Blacks. 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. BARON By the European standard, Mr. Davenport, you put our hospitality to the shame. From the moment you sent your yacht for us to Odessa — QUINCY Pray, don't ever speak of that again — you know how anxious I was to get you to New York. BARON Provided we have arrived in time ! QUINCY That's all right, I keep telling you. They aren't married yet — BARON [^Grinding his teeth and shaking his fist J\ Those Jew-vermin — all my life I have suffered from them ! THE MELTING-POT II3 QUINCY We all suffer from them. BARONESS Zey are ze pests of ze civilisation. 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 ! QUINCY No, no, Baron, that's not done here. Besides, if you shoot her down, where do / come in, eh } BARON \_Ptizzled.'\ Where you come in ">. QUINCY Oh, Baron ! Surely you have guessed that it is not merely Jew-hate, but — er — Christian love. Eh .■* \_Laughing uneasily. ] BARON You! BARONESS \^Clappinq her hands.'] Oh, charmant, charniant ! But it ees a romance ! 114 THE MELTING-POT BARON But you are married ! BARONESS \Downcast.'\ Ah, Old. Quel dommage, vat a peety ! QUINCY You forget, Baron, we are in America. The law giveth and the law taketh away. \He sniggers^ BARONESS It ees a vonderful country ! But your vife — hein ? — vould she consent .'' 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. BARONESS Mais parfaitement. BARON \_Frowning at herj] 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. . . . THE MELTING-POT I15 QUINCY Well, anyhow, don't shoot her — shoot the beast rather. \_Smggeringly.'\ BARON Shooting is too good for the enemies of Christ. [ Crossing himself.'] At Kishineff we stick the swine. QUINCY \_Interesfed.'] Ah ! I read about that. Did you see the mas- sacre ? BARON Which one ? Give me a cigarette, Katusha. \_She obeys.'] We've had several Jew-massacres. QUINCY Have you ? The papers only boomed one — four or five years ago — about Easter time, I think — BARON Ah, yes — when the Jews insulted the procession of the Host! \_Taking a light from the cigarette iti his wife's mouth.'\ QUINCY Did they ? I thought — Il6 THE MELTING-POT BARON \_Sarcastically7\ 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. \_He drops into a chair.'] I had charge of the whole district. QUINCY {^StartledJ] You! BARON Yes, and I hurried a regiment up to teach the blaspheming brutes manners — \_He puffs out a leisurely cloud.] QUINCY [ Whistling.'] Whew ! . . . I — I say, old chap, I mean Baron, you'd better not say that here. BARON Why not ? I am proud of it. BARONESS My husband vas decorated for it — he has ze order of St. Vladimir, THE MELTING-POT II7 BARON 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. BARONESS A plague-spot muz be cut out ! 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 — BARON Squeamish ! Don't you lynch and roast your niggers .-' QUINCY Not officially. Whereas your Black Hundreds — BARON Black Hundreds ! My dear Mr. Davenport, they are the white hosts of Christ \_Crossing himself. ~\ and of the Czar, who is God's vicegerent on earth. Have you not read the works of our sainted Pobie^ donostzeff, Procurator of the Most Holy Synod } Il8 THE MELTING-POT QUINCY Well, of course, I always felt there was another side to it, but still — BARONESS Perhaps he has right, Alexis. Our Ambassador vonce told me ze Americans are more sentimental zan civilised. BARON 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 burrow- ing 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 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. BARONESS Mon dicii ! Cest vrai. Ve real Russians vould be- come slaves. QUINCY Then what are you going to do with them } BARON One-third will be baptized, one-third massacred, the other third emigrated here. \He strikes a match to relight his cigarette.'^ THE MELTING-POT II9 QUINCY ^■ [ Sh udderingly. ] Thank you, my dear Baron, — you've already sent me one Jew too many. We're going to stop all alien immigration. BARON To stop all alien — ? But that is barbarous ! QUINCY Well, don't let us waste our time on the Jew-prob- lem . . . our own little Jew-problem is enough, eh ? Get rid of this little fiddler. Then / may have a look in. Adieu, Baron, BARON Adieu. \_Holdmg his hand.'\ But you are not really serious about Vera .-* \The Baroness makes a gesture of annoyance ?i^ 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. \He kisses her hand with a pretentious foreign air.'\ BARONESS \_In sentimental approvaL~\ ^ Ah I Vani07ir! ramotir! \_Exit QuiNCY Davenport, taking his cap in passing."] You might have given him a little encouragement, Alexis. VPS 120 THE MELTING-POT BARON Silence, Katusha. I only tolerated the man in Europe because he was a link with Vera. BARONESS You accepted his yacht and his — BARON If I had known his loose views on divorce — BARONESS I am sick of your scruples. You are ze only poor official in Bessarabia. BARON Be silent ! Have I not forbidden — ? BARONESS \Petulantly l\ Forbidden ! Forbidden ! All your life you have served ze Czar, and you cannot afford a single auto- mobile. A millionnaire son-in-law is just vat you owe me, BARON What I owe you .'' 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. THE MELTING-POT 121 BARON You knew I was a Revendal. The Revendals keep their hands clean. . . . [ 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.'^ BARONESS \^Has shared his nervousness till the door was opened, but now bursts into mocking laughter."] If you thought less about your precious safety, and more about me and Vera — BARON Hush ! You do not know Vera. You saw I was ^ven afraid to give my name. She might have St it me away as she sent away the Czar's plate of V . ton. BARONESS Czar's plate of — } BARON Did I never tell you .-' When she was only a schoolgirl — at the Imperial High School — the Czar on his annual visit tasted the food, and Vera as the show pupil was given the honour of finishing His Majesty's plate. BARONESS [/« incredulous horror.'] And she sent it avay ? 122 THE MELTING-POT BARON Gave it to a servant. \_Awed silence. '\ And then you thinK I can impose a husband on her. No, Katusha, I have to win her love for my- self, not for millionnaires. BARONESS \_Angry again ^ Alvays so affrightfully selfish ! BARON I have no control over her, I tell you ! {^Bitterly.l I never could control my womankind. BARONESS Because you zink zey are your soldiers. Silence ! Halt! Forbidden! Right Veel ! March! BARON \SuHenly.'\ I wish I did think they were my soldiers — I might try the lash. BARONESS \_Springing up angrily, shakes parasol at hi?n.'] You British barbarian ! THE MELTING-POT 1 23 VERA [ Outside the door kaditig to the interior^ Yes, thank you, Miss Andrews. I know I have visitors. ••• BARON \_Ec static ally. '\ Vera's voice ! \_The Baroness lowers her parasol. He looks yearningly toward the door. It opejis. Enter Vera with inquir- ing gaze."] VERA [ JVith a great shock of surprise. '\ Father ! ! BARON My dearest darling! . . . \He makes a movement toward her, but is checked by her irresponsiveness. ] Why, you've grown more beautiful than ever. VERA You in New York ! BARON The Baroness wished to see America. Katusha, this is my daughter. BARONESS \_In sugared sweetness.'] And mine, too, if she vill let me love her. 124 THE MELTING-POT VERA \_B owing coldly. '\ But how ? When ? BARON We have just come and — BARONESS \_D ashing /«.] Zat charming young man lent us his yacht — he is adorahble. VERA What charming young man ? BARONESS Ah, she has many, ze little coquette — ha ! ha ! ha ! \She touches V'E.^iA playfully with her parasoL'\ BARON We wished to give you a pleasant surprise. VERA It is certainly a surprise. BARON [ Chilled.'] You are not very . . . daughterly. VERA Do you remember when you last saw me .-' You did not claim me as a dausfhter then. THE MELTING-POT 1 25 BARON [ Covers his eyes with his hand.] Do not recall it ; it hurts too much. VERA I was in the dock. BARON It was horrible. I hated you for the devil of re- bellion that had entered into your soul, but I thanked God when you escaped. VERA [_So/tened.'] I think I was more sorry for you than for myself. I hope, at least, no suspicion fell on you. BARONESS [JSager/y.'] 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, 7no7i ejifant, you owe your fazer a grand reparation ! VERA What reparation can I possibly make ? BARON \Passionately^ You can love me again. Vera. 126 THE MELTING-POT BARONESS \_Sfamping/oot.'\ Alexis, you are interrupting — VERA I fear, father, we have grown too estranged — our ideas are so opposite — BARON But not now. Vera, surely not now ? You are no longer \_He lowers his voice a7id looks around^ a Revolutionist ? 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 mis- taken. In Russia I fought against the autocracy — BARON Hush! Hush! \_He looks round nervously 7^ VERA Here I fight against the poverty. No, father, a woman who has once heard the call will always be a wild creature. BARON But [^Lowering his voice.~\ those revolutionary Russian clubs here — you are not a member ? THE MELTING-POT 12/ VERA I do not believe in Revolutions carried on at a safe distance. I have found my life-work in America. BARON I am enchanted, Vera, enchanted. BARONESS [ Gushingly. '\ Permit me to kiss you, belle enfant. VERA I do not know you enough yet ; I will kiss my father. BARON [ With a great cry of Joy ^ Vera! \_Ife embraces her passionately.'] At last ! At last ! I have found my little Vera again ! VERA No, father, yottr Vera belongs to Russia with her mother and the happy days of childhood. But for their sakes — \_She breaks down in emotion^ BARON Ah, your poor mother ! BARONESS {^Tartly:] Alexis, I perceive I am too manyd \She begins to go toward the door.] 128 THE MELTING-POT BARON No, no, Katusha. Vera will learn to love you, too. VERA \_To Baroness.] What does my loving you matter 1 I can never return to Russia. BARONESS S^Pausingr\ But ve can come here — often — ven you are married. VERA When I am married .-' \_Softly blushing?^ You know .'' BARONESS \Smiling.'\ Ve know zat charming young man adores ze floor your foot treads on ! VERA \^B lushing^ You have seen David .'' BARON \_Hoarselyi\ David ! \_He clenches his fist^ THE MELTING-POT 1 29 BARONESS \_Half aside, as tmich gestured as spoken.'\ Sh ! Leave it to me. {^Sweetlyr^ Oh, no, ve have not seen David. VERA [^Looking from one to the other."] Not seen — .'' Then what — whom are you talk- ing about .-* BARONESS About zat handsome, quite adorahble Mr. Daven- port. VERA Davenport ! BARONESS Who combines ze manners of Europe viz ze mill- ions of America ! VERA \_Breaks into girlish laughter.] Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! So Mr. Davenport has been talk- ing to you ! But you all seem to forget one small point — bigamy is not permitted even to millionnaires. BARONESS Ah, not boz at vonce, but — VERA And do you think I would take another woman's leavings .'' No, not even if she were dead. K I30 THE MELTING-POT BARONESS You are insulting ! 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 en- gaged. BARON \_Trembltng, hoarse. ~\ By name, David ! VERA Yes, — David Quixano. BARON A Jew ! VERA How did you know .? Yes, he is a Jew, a noble Jew. BARON A Jew noble ! \^IIe laughs bitterly.'\ 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. BARON And you, a Revendal, would mate with an unbap- tized dog .-' THE MELTING-POT 131 VERA Dog ! You call my husband a dog ! BARON Husband ! God in heaven — are you married al- ready ? VERA • No ! But not being unemployed millionnaires like Mr. Davenport, we hold even our troth eternal. [ Calmer.'] Our poverty, not your prejudice, stands in the way of our marriage. But David is a musician of genius, and some day — BARONESS A fiddler in a beer-hall ! She prefers a fiddler to a millionnaire of ze first families of America ! VERA [ Contemptuously.'] First families ! I told you David's family came to Poland in 1492 — some months before America was discovered. BARON Christ save us ! You have become a Jewess ! 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. 132 THE MELTING-POT BARONESS But ze girl is an ateist ! BARON Silence, Katusha ! Leave me to deal with my daughter. \_Changing tone to pathos, taking her face between his hands. '\ Oh, Vera, Verotschka, my dearest darling, I had sooner you had remained buried in Siberia than that — \^He breaks downJ] VERA \Touched, sitting beside him.'] For you, father, I tvas as though buried in Siberia. Why did you come here to stab yourself afresh ? BARON I wish to God I had come here earlier. I wish I had not been so nervous of Russian spies. Ah, VerotscJika, if you only knew how I have pored over the newspaper pictures of you, and the reports of your life in this Settlement ! VERA You asked me not to send letters. BARON I know, I know — and yet sometimes I felt as if I could risk Siberia myself to read your dear, dainty handwriting again. THE MELTING-POT 1 33 VERA \_Still more softened.~\ Father, if you love me so much, surely you will love David a little too — for my sake. BARON \_Dazed.'\ I — love — a Jew ? Impossible. \^He shudders.'] VERA \_^Moving away, icify.'] 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. BARON ^Pitifully.'] Choice .'' I have no choice. Can I carry moun- tains .'* No more can I love a Jew. \_He rises resolutely.'] BARONESS [ Who has turned away, fretting and fuming, turns back to her husband, clapping her hands ^ Bravo ! 134 ^^^^ MELTING-POT VERA [ Going to him again, coaxingiy.'] I don't ask you to carry mountains, but to drop the mountains you carry — the mountains of preju- dice. Wait till you see him. BARON I will not see him. VERA Then you will hear him — he is going to make music for all the world. You can't escape hixn, f>apa- s/ia, you with your love of music, any more than you escaped Rubinstein. BARONESS Rubinstein vas not a Jew. VERA Rubinstein was a Jewish boy-genius, just like my David. BARONESS But his parents vere baptized soon after his birth. I had it from his patroness, ze Grand Duchess He- lena Pavlovna. VERA And did the water outside change the blood with- in .'' Rubinstein was our Court pianist and was deco- rated by the Czar. And you, the Czar's servant, dare to say you could not meet a Rubinstein. BARON [ Wave7'ing.~\ I did not say I could not meet a Rubinstein. THE MELTING-POT 135 VERA You practically said so. David will be even greater than Rubinstein. Come, father, I'll tele- phone for him ; he is only round the corner. BARONESS \_Excitedly.'\ Ve vill not see him ! VERA \_Ignoring 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. \_She caresses his forehead.'] Never mind ! David will smooth it out with his music as his Biblical ancestor smoothed that surly old, Saul. BARONESS Ve vill not hear him ! BARON Silence, Katusha ! Oh, my little Vera, I little thought when I let you study music at Petersburg — VERA \_SmiH12g wheedlingfy.'] That I should marry a musician. But you see, little father, it all ends in music after all. Now I 136 THE MELTING-POT will go and perform on the telephone, I'm not angel enough to bear one in here. \She goes toward the door of the hall, smilivg happily^ BARON \With a last agonized cry of resistance. "^ Halt! VERA \_Turning, makes mock military salute^ Yes, papasJia. BARON [^Overcome by her roguish smile. '\ You — I — he — do you love this J — this David so much ? VERA \_Suddenly tragicj It would kill me to give him up. \Resuming smile.'] But don't let us talk of funerals on this happy day of sunshine and reunion. [She kisses her hand to him and exit toward the hall^ BARONESS [^Atig?'ily.'\ You are in her hands as vax ! 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. [He drops on a chair, and leans his head on the table.] THE MELTING-POT 1 37 BARONESS [^Approaching tauntingly. 1 So you vill have a Jew son-in-law! BARON You don't know what it meant to me to feel her arms round me again. BARONESS And a hook-nosed brat to call you grandpapa, and nestle his greasy face against yours. BARON {Banging his fist on the table.'\ Don't drive me mad ! \His head drops againJ] BARONESS Then drive me home — I vill not meet him. . . . Alexis ! \_She taps him on the shoulder with her parasol. He does not move.^ Alexis Ivanovitch ! Do you not listen ! . . . [She stamps her foot.] Zen I go to ze hotel alone. [She walks angrily toward the hall. Jicst before she reaches the door, it opens, and the servant ushers in Herr Pappelmeister with his umbrella. The Baron- ess's tone cha?tges instantly to a sugared society accent.'] How do you do, Herr Pappelmeister ? \_She extends her hand, 7uhich he takes limply.'] 138 THE MELTING-POT You don't remember me ? Noii f \_Exit servafit.'\ Ve vere with Mr. Quincy Davenport at Wiesbaden — ze Baroness Revendal. PAPPELMEISTER So! \_He drops her hand.'] BARONESS Yes, it vas ze Baron's entousiasm for you zat got you your present position. PAPPELMEISTER \Arching his eyebrows.'] So! BARONESS Yes — zere he is! \_She turns toward the Baron.] Alexis, rouse yourself ! \She taps him with her parasol.] Zis American air makes ze Baron so sleepy. BARON \_Rises dazedly and bows.] Charmed to meet you, Herr — BARONESS Pappelmeister ! You remember ze great Pappel- meister. THE MELTING-POT 1 39 BARON [ Waking up, becomes keen.~\ Ah, yes, yes, charmed — why do you never bring your orchestra to Russia, Herr Pappelmeister ? PAPPELMEISTER \_Surprised.'\ Russia ? It never occurred to me to go to Russia — she seems so uncivilised. BARONESS \_Angry.'] Uncivilised ! Vy, ve have ze finest restaurants in ze vorld ! And ze best telephones ! PAPPELMEISTER So? BARONESS Yes — Russia is affrightfully misunderstood. \She sweeps away in btirnijig indignation. Pappelmeister murmurs in deprecation. Re-enter Yera from the hall. She is gay and happy. '\ VERA He is coming round at once — \_She utters a cry of pleased surprise.'] Herr Pappelmeister ! This is indeed a pleasure ! \_She gives Pappelmeister her hand, which he kisses^ I40 THE MELTING-POT BARONESS \Sotto voce to the Baron.] Let us go before he comes. \The Baron ignores her, his eyes hungrily on Vera.] PAPPELMEISTER {^To Vera.] But I come again — you have visitors. VERA \_SniiUng. ] Only my father and — PAPPELMEISTER \Surpnsed.~\ Your fader } Ach so ! \_He taps his forehead.'] Revendal ! BARONESS \_Sotto voce to the Baron.] I vill not meet a Jew, I tell you. PAPPELMEISTER But you vill vant to talk to your fader, and all / vant is Mr. Quixano's address. De Irish girl at de house says de bird is flown. VERA [ Gravely^ I don't know if I ought to tell you where the new nest is — THE MELTING-POT 141 PAPPELMEISTER \_Dis appointed J\ Ach ! VERA \Smiling?^ But I will produce the bird. PAPPELMEISTER \_Looks round.'] You vill broduce Mr. Quixano ? VERA [^Merrily.'] By clapping my hands. \_Mysteriously.~\ I am a magician. BARON [ Whose eyes have been glued on Vera.] You are indeed ! I don't know how you have be- witched me. \_The Baroness glares at him.~\ VERA Dear little father ! \_She crosses to him and strokes his hair.] Herr Pappelmeister, tell father about Mr. Quixano's music. 142 THE MELTING-POT PAPPELMEISTER \_Shaking his head.'\ Music cannot be talked about. VERA \_Smilmg?\ That's a nasty one for the critics. But tell father what a genius Da — Mr. Quixano is. BARONESS [Desperately intervening?[ Good-bye, Vera. \_She thrusts out her hand, which Vera takes?^ I have a headache. You muz excuse me. Herr Pappelmeister, an plaisir de vous revoir. [Pappelmeister hastens to the door, which he holds open. The Baroness turns and glares at the BaronT^ BARON [Agitated^ Let me see you to the auto — BARONESS You could see me to ze hotel almost as quick. BARON \_To Vera.] I won't say good-bye, VerotscJika — I shall be back. \_He goes toward the hall, theti turns.'] You will keep him waiting .'' [Vera smiles lovingly.] THE MELTING-POT I43 BARONESS You are keeping fne vaiting. \He turns quickly. Exeicnt Baron and Baroness\ PAPPELMEISTER And now broduce Mr. Quixano ! VERA Not so fast. What are you going to do with him .? PAPPELMEISTER Put him in my orchestra ! VERA \_Ecstatic7\ Oh, you dear ! [ The7i Jter tone changes to disappointmentr\ But he won't go into Mr. Davenport's orchestra. PAPPELMEISTER It is no more Mr. Davenport's orchestra. He fired me, don't you remember.-' Now I boss — how say you in American .-' VERA \_Smiling!\ Your own show. PAPPELMEISTER Ja, my own band. Ven I left dat comic opera millionnaire, dey all shtick to me almost to von man. 144 ^-^^ MELTING-POT VERA How nice of them ! PAPPELMEISTER All egsept de Christian — he vas de von man. He shtick to de millionnaire. So I lose my brincipal first violin. VERA And Mr. Quixano is to — oh, how delightful ! \She claps her hands girlishly.'] PAPPELMEISTER \_Looks round mischievously. ] Ack, de magic failed. VERA \_Puzzled.~\ Eh! PAPPELMEISTER You do not broduce him. You clap de hands — but you do not broduce him. Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! \_IIe breaks into a great roar of genial laughter 1^ VERA \_Chiming in merrily r\ Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! But I said I have to know every- thing first. Will he get a good salary .-' PAPPELMEISTER Enough to keep a vife and eight children ! THE MELTING-POT 1 45 VERA \_B lushing^ But he hasn't a — PAPPELMEISTER 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? VERA You are good to us — \_HastiIy correcting herself. '\ to Mr. Quixano. PAPPELMEISTER \_Smiling.'\ And aldough you cannot broduce him, I broduce his symphony. Was f VERA Oh, Herr Pappelmeister ! You are an angel. PAPPELMEISTER Neiii, nein, nichi liebes Kind ! I fear I haf not de correct shape for an angel. \_He laughs heartily. A knock at the door from the hall.'] L 146 THE MELTING-POT VERA \_Merrily^ Now I clap my hands. \She claps ^ Come ! \The door opens^ Behold him ! \She makes a conjurer's gesture. David, bareheaded, ca7-ry- ing his fiddle, opejis the door, and stands staring in amazement at Pappelmeister. ] DAVID I thought you asked me to meet your father. PAPPELMEISTER She is a magician. She has changed us. \_He waves his umbrella^ Hey presto, was ? Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! \_IIe goes to David, and shakes hands. '\ Und zvie gehfsf I hear you've left home. DAVID Yes, but I've such a bully cabin — PAPPELMEISTER \Alarmed.'\ You are sailing avay .-' THE MELTING-POT 147 VERA {^Laugliing.'l No, no — that's only his way of describing his two- dollar-a-month garret. DAVID Yes — my state-room on the top deck ! VERA \^SmUing.'\ Six foot square. DAVID But three other passengers aren't squeezed in, and it never pitches and tosses. It's heavenly. PAPPELMEISTER ^SmilingP^ And from heaven you flew down to blay in dat beer-hall. Was ? [David looks surprised.'] I heard you. DAVID You ! What on earth did you go there for .? PAPPELMEISTER 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 148 THE MELTING-POT Symphony Concerts, dat boy shall be one of my first violins. Was ? \_IIe slaps David ott the left shoulder. '\ DAVID [ Overwhelmed, ecstatic, yet wmcing a little at the slap on his wound.'] Be one of your first — \_Remembering, ] Oh, but it is impossible. VERA S^Alarmed?^ Mr. Quixano ! You must not refuse. DAVID But does Herr Pappelmeister know about the wound in my shoulder .'' PAPPELMEISTER {Agitated^ You haf been vounded .'' DAVID Only a legacy from Russia — but it twinges in some weathers. PAPPELMEISTER And de pain ubsets your blaying .-' THE MELTING-POT 1 49 DAVID Not SO much the pain — it's all the dreadful mem- ories — VERA \_Alai-med?[ Don't talk of them, DAVID I miist explain to Herr Pappelmeister — it wouldn't be fair. Even now \_Shudde}-ing.'\ there comes up before me the bleeding body of my mother, the cold, fiendish face of the Russian officer, supervising the slaughter — VERA Hush! Hush! DAVID \Hysterically^ Oh, that butcher's face — there it is — hovering in the air, that narrow, fanatical forehead, that — PAPPELMEISTER \_.Briiigs down his umbrella with a bang.'] Scklussf No man ever dared break down under me. My baton will beat avay all dese faces and fancies. Out v/ith your violin ! \_IIe laps his umbrella impei-iotisly on the table.] Keinen Miit verlieren I I50 THE MELTING-POT [David takes out his violin from its case and puts it to his shoulder, Pappelmeister keeping up a hypnotic tor- rent of e^icouraging Gert?ian cries.'] Also I Fertig ! Anfangen I \He raises and zvaves his umbrella like a baton.'] Von, dwo, dree, four — DAVID [ With a great sigh of relief] Thanks, thanks — they are gone already. PAPPELMEISTER Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! You see. And ven ve blay your American symphony — DAVID {^Dazed.] You will play my American symphony ? VERA \_Disappoi7ited.] Don't you jump for joy? DAVID \Still dazed but ecstatic?^ Herr Pappelmeister ! \_Changing back to despondency^] But what certainty is .there your Carnegie Hall audience would understand me ? It would be the same smart set. \He drops dejectedly into a chair and lays down his violin.] THE MELTING-POT 151 PAPPELMEISTER Ach, nein. Of course, some — ve can't keep peoble out merely because dey pay for deir seats. Was? \_He laughs^ 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. PAPPELMEISTER Try it on the dog. Was ? DAVID Yes — on the dog that here will become a man ! PAPPELMEISTER \^Shakes his head.'\ I fear neider dogs nor men are a musical breed. DAVID The immigrants will not understand my music with their brains or their ears, but with their hearts and their souls. VERA Well, then, why shouldn't it be done here — on our Roof- Garden ? DAVID \Jumping up.'\ A Bas-Kol! A Bas-Kol! 152 THE MELTING-POT VERA What are you talking ? DAVID Hebrew ! It means a voice from heaven. VERA Ah, but will Herr Pappelmeister consent ? PAPPELMEISTER \^Bo'wing.'\ Who can disobey a voice from heaven ? . . . But ven ? VERA On some holiday evening. . . . Why not the Fourth of July? DAVID \_Still more ecstaticP\^ Another Bas-Kol ! . . . My American Symphony ! Played to the People ! Under God's sky ! On In- dependence Day ! With all the — [ Waving his hand expressively, sighs voluphiously^ That will be too perfect. PAPPELMEISTER \_Smili7ig. ] Dat has to be seen. You must permit me to invite — THE MELTING-POT 1 53 DAVID [/« horror.'^ Not the musical critics ! PAPPELMEISTER [^Raising doth hands with umbrella in equal horror?^ Gott bewahre ! But I'd like to invite all de persons in New York who really undershtand music. VERA Splendid ! But should we have room ? PAPPELMEISTER Room ? I vant four blaces. VERA \SmilingI\ You are severe ! Mr. Davenport was right. PAPPELMEISTER \_Smiling.'\ Perhaps de oders vill be out of town. Also ! \Holding out his hand to David.] You come to Carnegie to-morrow at eleven. Yes } Frdidein. \_Kisses her hand^ Auf wiederseheii ! [Going.'] On de Roof-Garden — nic/il zvaJir f 154 THE MELTING-POT VERA \S)niling.'\ Wind and weather permitting. PAPPELMEISTER I haf alvays mein umbrella. Was ? Ha ! Ha ! Ha! VERA \^Murmuring.'\ Isn't he a darling 1 Isn't he — } PAPPELMEISTER [^Pausing suddenlyl\ But ve never settled de salary. DAVID Salary ! \He looks dazedly from one to the other?[ For the honour of playing in your orchestra ! PAPPELMEISTER Shylock ! ! . . . Never mind — ve settle de pound of flesh to-morrow. Lebe woJil ! [Exit, the door closes^ VERA [Suddenly miserable.'^ How selfish of you, David ! DAVID Selfish, Vera ? THE MELTING-POT 1 55 VERA Yes — not to think of your salary. It looks as if you didn't reatly love me. DAVID Not love you .-' I don't understand. VERA \Half in tears ^ Just when I was so happy to think that now we shall be able to marry. DAVID Shall we ? Marry .-* On my salary as first violin .-' VERA Not if you don't want to. DAVID Sweetheart ! Can it be true } How do you know ? VERA \Smiling.'\ r^n not a Jew. I asked. DAVID My guardian angel ! \_Embraci71g her. He sits down, she lovingly at his feet.'\ VERA \Looking up at him.'] Then you do care .'' 156 THE MELTING-POT DAVID What a question ! VERA And you don't think wholly of your music and for- get me ? DAVID Why, you are behind all I write and play ! > VERA . [ With jealous passion. '\ Behind ? But I want to be before ! I want you to love me first, before everything. DAVID I do put you before everything. VERA You are sure ? And nothing shall part us ? DAVID Not all the seven seas could part you and me. VERA And you won't grow tired of me — not even when you are world-famous — ? DAVID \_A shade petulant.'^ Sweetheart, considering I should owe it all to you — THE MELTING-POT 1 57 VERA \_Drawitig his head down to her breast'^ 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 — 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, VERA Still, we ought to soften the suffering as much as — DAVID Yes, but only Time can heal it. VERA [ With transition to happiness.'\ But father seems half-reconciled already ! Dear little father, if only he were not so narrow about Holy Russia ! 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. 158 THE MELTING-POT VERA Yes, David, yes. You are the prophet of the liv- ing present. I am so happy. \She looks tip wis tf idly. '\ You are happy, too .-' DAVID I am dazed — I cannot realise that all our troubles have melted away — it is so sudden. 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 — DAVID We Jews are cheerful in gloom, mistrustful in joy. It is our tragic history — VERA But you have come to end the tragic history ; to throw off the coils of the centuries. DAVID \_Smiling again.~\ 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. \_He takes up his violin.'] THE MELTING-POT 1 59 Yes, I will make my old fiddle-strings burst with joy! \He dashes into a jtibilant 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^ The face ! The face ! VERA David — my dearest ! DAVID \_Nis eyes closed, his violin clasped mechanically. '\ Don't be anxious — I shall be better soon — I oughtn't to have talked about it — the hallucination has never been so complete. VERA Don't speak — rest against Vera's heart — till it has passed away. [77^1? Baron comes dazedly forzuard, half with a shocked sense of Vera's impropriety, half to relieve her of her burden. She motions him back.~\ This is the work of your Holy Russia. l60 THE MELTING-POT BARON \_Harshly^ What is the matter with him ? [David's violin and bow drop from his grasp and fall on the table.'] DAVID The voice ! \_He opens his eyes, stares frenziedly at the Baron, then struggles out of Vera's anns.] VERA \Trying to stop him.] Dearest — DAVID Let me go. \_He moves like a sleep-walker toward the paralysed Baron, puts out his hand, and testingly touches the face.] BARON \_Shuddering back.] Hands off! DAVID [ With a great cry.] A-a-a-h ! It is flesh and blood. No, it is stone — the man of stone ! Monster ! \^He raises his hatid frenziedly.] THE MELTING-POT l6l BARON [ Whipping out his pistol.^ Back, dog ! [Vera darts between them with a shnek.'] DAVID \_Frozen again, surveying the pistol stonily.'] Ha ! You want my life, too. Is the cry not yet loud enough ? BARON The cry ? DAVID l^Mystically.'] 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 ? BARON Tush ! [Pocketing the pistol a little shamefacedly.'] VERA Justice on himself ? For what ? DAVID For crimes beyond human penalty, for obscenities beyond human utterance, for — l62 THE MELTING-POT VERA You are raving. DAVID Would to heaven I were ! VERA But this is my father. DAVID Your father ! . . . God ! \_He staggers.'\ BARON Come, Vera, I told you — VERA \Frantically, shrinking back.'\ Don't touch me! BARON \Starting back in amdzel\ Vera! VERA \Hoarsely^ Say it's not true. BARON What is not true .-• VERA What David said. It was the mob that massacred — you had no hand in it. THE MELTING-POT 1 63 BARON \SuUenlyP[ I was there with my soldiers, DAVID {Leaning, pale, against a chair, hisses] And you looked on with that cold face of hate — while my mother — my sister — BARON {Suilenly.'] I could not see everything. DAVID Now and again you ordered your soldiers to fire — VERA \l7i joyous relief P\ Ah, he did check the mob — he didXeSS. his soldiers to fire. DAVID At any Jew who tried to defend himself. VERA Great God ! {She falls on the sofa and buries her head o?i the cushion, moaning.] Is there no pity in heaven ? 1 64 THE MELTING-POr DAVID There was no pity on earth. BARON It was the People avenging itself, Vera. The People rose like a flood. It had centuries of spolia- tion to wipe out. The voice of the People is the voice of God. VERA \^Moaning^ But you could have stopped them. BARON I had no orders to defend the foes of Christ [ Crossing himself ^^ and the Czar. The People — VERA But you could have stopped them. BARON Who can stop a flood.'' I did my duty. A soldier's duty is not so pretty as a musician's. VERA But you could have stopped them. BARON \_Losing all patience.'] Silence! You talk like an ignorant girl, blinded by passion. ThQ pogrom is a holy crusade. Are we THE MELTING-POT 165 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 — 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. \He falls as if kneeling on a chair, and leans his head on the rail.^ O God, shall we always be broken on the wheel of history? How long, O Lord, how long? BARON l^Savagely.'] Till you are all stamped out, ground into your dirt. \_Tenderly.^ Look up, little Vera! You saw \\o^ 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. VERA Father, I will be calm. T will speak without passion or blindness. I will tell David the truth. I was never absolutely sure of my love for him — perhaps that l66 THE MELTING-POT 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 cen- turies of Jew-loathing, some strange shrinking from his Christless creed — BARON [ With an exultatit cry.'] Ah ! She is a Revendal. VERA But now — [She rises, and walks firmly toward Tikwn?^ 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 ! \_She stretches out her hands to David,] BARON You shameless — ! \He stops as he perceives David i-emains impassive^ VERA [ With agojiised cry.] David ! DAVID \_In low, icy tofies.] You cannot come to me. There is a river of blood between us. THE MELTING-POT 1 67 VERA Were it seven seas, our love must cross them. DAVID Easy words to you. You never saw that red flood bearing the mangled breasts of women and the spat- tered brains of babes and sucklings. Oh ! \He covers his eyes with his hands. The Baron /urns away in gloomy impotence. At last David begins to speak quietly, almost dreamily. ~\ It was your Easter, and the_a ir-was full ofjiolv bells and t^ streets of holy proc essions — 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 good-will, 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 pro- claimed re-risen, was born in the form of a brother 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 v/ine, 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 v/hich 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 1 68 THE MELTING-POT home, and how we were looking forward to his hymns at the Passover table — \He breaks down. The Baron has gradually turned round under the spell of DAvm's story and now listens hyp- notised.'] 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 — [Vera's eyes involuntarily seek the face of her father, who shrinks away as their eyes meet.] VERA \^In a low sob.~\ O God! DAVID When I came to myself, with a curious aching in my left shoulder, I saw lying beside me a strange shapeless Something — [David points weirdly to the floor, andVis.KA, hunched for- wards, gazes stonily at if, as if seeing the horror.] THE MELTING-POT 169 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 Chris- tians 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. \He breaks down in spasmodic, ironic, long-drawn, terrible laughter. '\ VERA \Trying vainly to tranquillise him.'\ Hush, David ! Your laughter hurts more than tears. Let Vera comfort you. \_She kneels by his chair, tries to put her arms round him.'] DAVID [^Shuddering.'] Take them away ! Don't you feel the cold dead pushing between us ? VERA \_Unfaltering, moving his face toward her lips.] Kiss me ! DAVID I should feel the blood on my lips. VERA My love shall wipe it out. 170 THE MELTING-POT DAVID Love ! Christian love ! \_He unwinds her clinging arms ; she sinks prostrate on the floor as he rises. ] 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. \BrokenIy^^ Let me go home, let me go home. \_He looks litigeringly at Vera's prostrate form, hit over- coming the instiiict to touch and comfort her, begins tot- tering with uncertain pauses toward the door leading to the hall.'] BARON \_Extending his arms in relief ajid longing.] And here is your home, Vera ! \He raises her gradually from the floor ; she is dazed, but suddenly she becofnes conscious of whose arms she is in, and utters a cry of repulsion^ VERA Those arms reeking from that crimson river ! \_She falls back.] BARON [Sullenly^ Don't echo that babble. You came to these arms often enough when they were fresh from the battle- field. THE MELTING-POT 171 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 — \_Slie breaks down for the first time in hysterical sobs ^ BARON \^Brokenly.'\ Vera ! Little Vera ! Don't cry ! You stab me ! VERA You thought you were ordering your soldiers to fire at the Jews, but it was my heart they pierced. She sobs onJ] BARON . . . And my own. . . . But we will comfort each other. I will go to the Czar myself — with my fore- head to the earth — to beg for your pardon ! . . . Come, put your wet face to little father's. . . . VERA \_Violently pushing his face away.'] I hate you ! I curse the day I was born your daughter ! [^She staggers toward the door leading to the interior. At the same moment David, who has i-eached the door leading to the hall, now feeling subconsciously that Vera is going and that his last reason for lingering on is re- moved, turns the door-handle. The click attracts the Baron's atte?ition, he veers round.] 1/2 THE MELTING-POT BARON \To David.] Halt! [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 awaitifig his fate. The Baron hands the pistol to David.] You were right ! \_Ife steps back swiftly with a touch of stern heroism into the attitude of the culprit at a military execution, awaiting the bullet.~\ 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 violifi, and as his fingers draw out the broken string he murmurs'] I must get a new string. \_He resumes his dragging march toward the door, repeating maunderingly~\ I must get a new string. [ The curtain falls ^ ACT IV \_Saturday, July 4, evening. The Roof- Garden of the Set- tlement House, showing a beautiful, far-stretching pano- rama 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 gleami?ig 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 lifies 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 be- low 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.'^ MENDEL Come down, David ! Don't you hear them shout- ing for you ? \He passes his hand over the wet bench.'] Good heavens ! You will get rheumatic fever ! DAVID Why have you followed me ? MENDEL Get up — everything is still damp. 173 1/4 THE MELTING-POT DAVID \_Ristng, gloomily. '\ Yes, there's a damper over everything. 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 ! DAVID Let them shout. Who told you I was up here .-• MENDEL Miss Revendal, of course. DAVID [^Agitated.'] Miss Revendal .? How should she know .? MENDEL \_Sullenly.'] She seems to understand your crazy ways. DAVID \Passing his hand over his eyes. '\ Ah, yott never understood me, uncle. . . . How did she look .-' Was she pale .'' MENDEL Never mind about Miss Revendal. Pappelmeister wants you — the people insist on seeing you. No- body can quiet them. THE MELTING-POT 175 DAVID They saw me all through the symphony in my place in the orchestra. MENDEL They didn't know you were the composer. Now Miss Revendal has told them. \_Louder applause.'] There! Eleven minutes it has gone on — like for an office-seeker. You micst come and show yourself. DAVID I won't — I'm not an office-seeker. Leave me to my misery. MENDEL Your misery .? With all this glory and greatness opening before you ? Wait till you're my age — \_Shouis of " QuiXANO ! "] You hear ! What is to be done with them ^ DAVID Send somebody on the platform to remind them this is the interval for refreshments ! MENDEL Don't be cynical. You know your dearest wish was to melt these simple souls with your music. And now — DAVID Now I have only made my own stony. 176 THE MELTING-POT 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. DAVID That was the punishment for looking backward. Ah, uncle, there's more sense to that old Bible than the Rabbis suspect. Perhaps that is the secret of our people's paralysis — we are always looking backward, \He drops hopelessly into an iron garden-chair behind him^ MENDEL {Stopping him before he touches the seat. ] Take care — it's sopping wet. You don't look back- ward enough. \_He takes out his handkerchief and begins drying the chair."] DAVID \Faintly smiling.] I thought you wanted the salt to melt. MENDEL It is melting a little if you can smile. Do you know, David, I haven't seen you smile since that Piirim afternoon } THE MELTING-POT 1 77 DAVID You haven't worn a false nose since, uncle. \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 } \_He drops into the wiped chair^ MENDEL \_Angrily.'\ 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 — DAVID \Pained^ Uncle ! MENDEL I'd rather see you marry her than go about like this. You couldn't make the house any gloomier. DAVID Go back to the concert, please. They have quieted down. MENDEL \HesitaHng?[ And you } N 178 THE MELTING-POT 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. MENDEL Then you don't want to carry this about. \_Takingthe violui frotn David's arvis^^ DAVID [ Clinging to it.'\ Don't rob me of my music — it's all I have. MENDEL You'll spoil it in the wet. I'll take it home. DAVID No — \He suddenly catches sight of two figures entering from the left, — Frau Quixano and Kathleen clad in their best, and wearing tiny American flags iji 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 pufling and panting after the many stairs. David jumps up in surprise, releases the violin case to Mendel.] They at my symphony ! MENDEL Mother would come — even though, being Shabbos, she had to walk. THE MELTING-POT lyg DAVID But wasn't she shocked at my playing on the Sabbath ? MENDEL No — that's the curious part of it. She said, even as a boy you played your fiddle on Shabbos, and if the Lord has stood it all these years, He must con- sider you an exception. DAVID You see ! She's more sensible than you thought. I daresay whatever I had done she'd have considered me an exception. MENDEL \_In sullen acquiescence^ I suppose geniuses are. KATHLEEN \_Reachingthem ; panting with admiration and breathlessness.'] Oh, Mr. David ! it was like midnight mass ! But the misthress was ashleep. DAVID Asleep ! [^Laughs half -merrily, half -sadly ?^ Ha! Ha! Ha! FRAU QUIXANO [Panting and laughing in respo?ise.^ He ! He ! He ! Dovidel lacht widder. He ! He ! He! l8o THE MELTING-POT \^She touches his arm affectionately, but feeling his wet coat utters a cry of horror^ Dh bist nass ! DAVID Es ist gar nicht, Miimme — my clothes are thick. \_She fusses over him, wiping him dotvn with her gloved hand.'] MENDEL But what brought you up here, Kathleen ? KATHLEEN Sure, not the elevator. The misthress said 'twould be breaking the Shabbos to ride up in it. DAVID [ Uneasily?^ But did — did Miss Revendal send you up .-' KATHLEEN And who else should be axin' the misthress if she wasn't proud of Mr. David .'' Faith, she's a sweet lady. MENDEL \_Impatiently .'\ Don't chatter, Kathleen. KATHLEEN But, Mr. Quixano — ! DAVID \Sweetly.'\ Please take your mistress down again — don't let her walk. THE MELTING-POT l8l KATHLEEN But Shabbos isn't out yet ! MENDEL Chattering again ! DAVID [ Gently. '\ There's no harm, Kathleen, in going down in the elevator. KATHLEEN Troth, I'll egshplain to her that dropping down isn't riding. DAVID \^Smili)ig.'\ Yes, tell her dropping down is natural — not work^ like flying up. [Kathleen begins to move toward the stairs, explaining to Frau Quixano.] And, Kathleen ! You'll get her some refreshments. KATHLEEN \ Turns, glaring."] Refrishments, is it ? Give her refrishments where they mix the mate with the butther-plates ! Oh, Mr. David ! \_She moves off toward the stairs in reproachful sorrow.] MENDEL ^Smiling.] I'll get her some coffee. 1 82 THE MELTING-POT DAVID \Smiling^ Yes, that'll keep her awake. Besides, Pappelmeis- ter was so sure the people wouldn't understand me, he's relaxing them on Gounod and Rossini. MENDEL Pappelmeister's idea of relaxation ! / should have given them comic opera. [ With sudden call to Kathleen, who with her mistress is at the wrong exit."] Kathleen ! The elevator's this side ! KATHLEEN l^Turning.'] Sure, how can that be, when I came up this side ^ MENDEL You chatter too much. [Frau Quixano, not understanding, exit.'] Come this way. Can't you see the elevator ? KATHLEEN \_Perceives Frau Quixano has gone, calls after her in Irish- sounding Yiddish.'] Wo geht IJir, bedad .? . . . \Impatiently?[ Houly Moses, kormn snrick! [Exit anxiously, 7-e-enter with Frau Quixano.] THE MELTING-POT 1 83 Begorra, we Jews never know our way. [Mendel, carrying the violin, escorts his another and Kath- leen to the elevator. When they are near it, it stops with a thud, and Pappelmeister springs out, his um- brella up, meeting them face to face. He looks happy and beaming over David's triumph^ PAPPELMEISTER \In loud,joyotis voice ^ Nun, Frait Qtiixano, tuas sagen Sie ? Vat you tink of your David ? FRAU QUIXANO Dovid? Er ist vteshiiggah. \She taps her forehead.~\ PAPPELMEISTER \_Puzzled, to Mendel.] Meshuggah! WaXvaQdins 'mesh7iggah? Crazy .'' MENDEL \_H'alf-smiling.~\ You've struck it. She says David doesn't know enough to go in out of the rain. \_General laughter^ DAVID \_Risi7ig.'\ But it's stopped raining, Herr Pappelmeister. You don't want your umbrella. [ General laughter.'] 1 84 THE MELTING-POT PAPPELMEISTER So. \_Shuts it down.'] MENDEL Herein, Mutter. \_He pushes Frau Quixano's somewhat shrinking form into the elevator. Kathleen /^//, East and West, and North and South, the palm 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 King- dom 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 ! \^Ile raises his hands in benediction over the shining eity.J Peace, peace, to all ye unborn millions, fated to fill this giant continent — the God of our children give you Peace. \_An instajifs solemn pause. The sunset is swiftly fading, and the vast panorama is suffusedwith a more restful twi- light^ to which the many-gleaming lights of the town add 20O THE MELTING-POT the tender poetry of the night. Far back, like a lonely, beautiful star, twinkles over the da7-kening water the torch of the Statue of Liberty. From below comes up the softened sotind of voices and instruments joining in "My Country^ Uis of Thee." The curtain falls slowly^ Deacidified using the Bookkeeper proces Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date; May 2009 PreservationTechnologie A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATK 111 Thomson Park Drive /~„„l,arn/ Tr,wn5hin PA 16066