DAVID [In pained amaze]
Uncle!
[Slowly] Then your hankering after the synagogue was serious after all.
MENDEL
It is not so much the synagogue-it is the call of our blood through immemorial generations.
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.
MENDEL [Passionately]
Not our race, not your race and mine.
DAVID
What immunity has our race?
[Meditatively] 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.
MENDEL [With prophetic fury]
The Jew has been tried in a thousand fires and only tempered and annealed.
DAVID
Fires of hate, not fires of love. That is what melts.
MENDEL [Sneeringly]
So I see.
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.
MENDEL [Speaking passionately and rapidly]
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.
DAVID
These countries were not in the making. They were 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--
MENDEL [Passionately interrupting]
We must look backwards, too.
DAVID [Hysterically]
To what? To Kishineff?
[As if seeing his vision] To that butcher's face directing the slaughter? To those--?
MENDEL [Alarmed]
Hush! Calm yourself!
DAVID [Struggling 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.
MENDEL
You are mad already-your dreams are mad-the Jew is hated here as everywhere-you are false to your race.
DAVID
I keep faith with America. I have faith America will keep faith with us.
[He raises his hands in religious rapture toward the flag over
the door.] Flag of our great Republic, guardian of our homes, whose stars and--
MENDEL
Spare me that rigmarole. Go out and marry your Gentile and be happy.
DAVID
You turn me out?
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!
DAVID [Thundrously]
And the God of our children-does He demand no service?
[Quieter, coming toward his uncle and touching him
affectionately on the shoulder.] You are right-I do need a wider world.
[Expands his lungs.] I must go away.
MENDEL
Go, then-I'll hide the truth-she must never suspect-lest she mourn you as dead.
FRAU QUIXANO [Outside, in the kitchen]
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
[Both men turn toward the kitchen and listen.]
KATHLEEN
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
FRAU QUIXANO AND KATHLEEN
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
MENDEL [Bitterly]
A merry Purim!
[The kitchen door opens and remains ajar. FRAU QUIXANO rushes
in, carrying DAVID'S violin and bow. KATHLEEN looks in,
grinning.]
FRAU QUIXANO [Hilariously]
Nu spiel noch! spiel!
[She holds the violin and bow appealingly toward DAVID. ]
MENDEL [Putting out a protesting hand]
No, no, David-I couldn't bear it.
DAVID
But I must! You said she mustn't suspect.
[He looks lovingly at her as he loudly utters these words, which
are unintelligible to her.] And it may be the last time I shall ever play for her.
[Changing to a mock merry smile as he takes the violin and bow
from her] Gewiss, Granny!
[He starts the same old Slavic dance.]
FRAU QUIXANO [Childishly pleased]
He! He! He!
[She claps on a false grotesque nose from her pocket.]
DAVID [Torn between laughter and tears]
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
MENDEL [Shocked]
Mutter!
FRAU QUIXANO
Un' du auch!
[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.]
DAVID [Joining tearfully in the laughter]
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 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 is in a
smart spring suit with a motor dust-coat and cap, which last he
lays down on the mantelpiece.
SERVANT
Miss Revendal is on the roof-garden. I'll go and tell her.
[Exit, toward the hall.]
BARON
A marvellous people, you Americans. Gardens in the sky!<
br />
QUINCY
Gardens, forsooth! We plant a tub and call it Paradise. No, Baron. New York is the great stone desert.
BARONESS
But ze big beautiful Park vere ve drove tru?
QUINCY
No taste, Baroness, modern sculpture and menageries! Think of the Medici gardens at Rome.
BARONESS
Ah, 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, produces his match-box.]
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?
BARON
You are always of the most amiable.
[He strikes a match.]
BARONESS
Tout à fait charmant.
[The BARON lights her cigarette.]
QUINCY [Bows gallantly]
Don't mention it. I'll just have my auto take me to the Club, and then I'll send it back for you.
BARONESS
Ah, zank you-zat street-car looks horreeble.
[She puffs out smoke.]
BARON
Quite impossible. What is to prevent an anarchist sitting next to you and shooting out your brains?
QUINCY
We haven't much of that here-I don't mean brains. Ha! Ha! Ha!
BARON
But I saw desperadoes spying as we came off your yacht.
QUINCY
Oh, that was newspaper chaps.
BARON [Shakes his head]
No-they are circulating my appearance to all the gang in the States. They took snapshots.
QUINCY
Then you're quite safe from recognition.
[He sniggers.] Didn't they ask you questions?
BARON
Yes, but I am a diplomat. I do not reply.
QUINCY
That's not very diplomatic here. Ha! Ha!
BARON
Diable!
[He claps his hand to his hip pocket, half-producing a pistol.
The BARONESS looks equally anxious.]
QUINCY
What's up?
BARON [Points to window, whispers hoarsely]
Regard! A hooligan peeped in!
QUINCY [Goes to window]
Only some poor devil come to the Settlement.
BARON [Hoarsely]
But under his arm-a bomb!
QUINCY [Shaking his head smilingly]
A soup bowl.
BARONESS
Ha! Ha! Ha!
QUINCY
What makes you so nervous, Baron?
[The BARON slips back his pistol, a little ashamed.]
BARONESS
Ze Intellectuals and ze Bund, zey all hate my husband because he is faizful to Christ
[Crossing herself] and ze Tsar.
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, 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.
BARON
A thousand thanks.
[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.
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]
Those Jew-vermin-all my life I have suffered from them!
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 I come in, eh?
BARON [Puzzled]
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 [Clapping her hands]
Oh, charmant, charmant! But it ees a romance!
BARON
But you are married!
BARONESS [Downcast]
Ah, oui. 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 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....
QUINCY
Well, anyhow, don't shoot her-shoot the beast rather.
[Sniggeringly.]
BARON
Shooting is too good for the enemies of Christ.
[Crossing himself.] At Kishineff we stick the swine.
QUINCY [Interested]
Ah! I read about that. Did you see the massacre?
BARON
Which one? Give me a cigarette, Katusha.
[She obeys.] We've had several Jew-massacres in Kishineff.
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 in his wife's mouth. ]
QUINCY
Did they? I thought--
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.
[He drops into a chair.] I had charge of the whole district.
QUINCY [Startled]
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.
BARON [Proudly]
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 th
e 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 Tsar, who is God's vicegerent on earth. Have you not read the works of our sainted Pobiedonostzeff, Procurator of the Most Holy Synod?
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 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 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 dieu! C'est vrai. Ve real Russians vould become 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.]
QUINCY [Shudderingly]
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-problem ... our own little Jew-problem is enough, eh? Get rid of this little fiddler. Then I may have a look in. Adieu, Baron.
BARON
Adieu.
[Holding his hand] But you are not really serious about Vera?
[The BARONESS makes a gesture of annoyance.]
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! l'amour! l'amour!
[Exit QUINCY DAVENPORT, taking his cap in passing.] You might have given him a little encouragement, Alexis.
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
The Melting-Pot Page 6