ANN, to Mother: You know what he’s got to do! Tell him!
MOTHER: Let him go.
ANN: I won’t let him go. You’ll tell him what he’s got to do . . .
MOTHER: Annie!
ANN: Then I will!
Keller enters from house. Chris sees him, goes down right near arbor.
KELLER: What’s the matter with you? I want to talk to you.
CHRIS: I’ve got nothing to say to you.
KELLER, taking his arm: I want to talk to you!
CHRIS, pulling violently away from him: Don’t do that, Dad. I’m going to hurt you if you do that. There’s nothing to say, so say it quick.
KELLER: Exactly what’s the matter? What’s the matter? You got too much money? Is that what bothers you?
CHRIS, with an edge of sarcasm: It bothers me.
KELLER: If you can’t get used to it, then throw it away. You hear me? Take every cent and give it to charity, throw it in the sewer. Does that settle it? In the sewer, that’s all. You think I’m kidding? I’m tellin’ you what to do, if it’s dirty then burn it. It’s your money, that’s not my money. I’m a dead man, I’m an old dead man, nothing’s mine. Well, talk to me!—what do you want to do!
CHRIS: It’s not what I want to do. It’s what you want to do.
KELLER: What should I want to do? Chris is silent. Jail? You want me to go to jail? If you want me to go, say so! Is that where I belong?—then tell me so! Slight pause. What’s the matter, why can’t you tell me? Furiously. You say everything else to me, say that! Slight pause. I’ll tell you why you can’t say it. Because you know I don’t belong there. Because you know! With growing emphasis and passion, and a persistent tone of desperation: Who worked for nothin’ in that war? When they work for nothin’, I’ll work for nothin’. Did they ship a gun or a truck outa Detroit before they got their price? Is that clean? It’s dollars and cents, nickels and dimes; war and peace, it’s nickels and dimes, what’s clean? Half the Goddam country is gotta go if I go! That’s why you can’t tell me.
CHRIS: That’s exactly why.
KELLER: Then . . . why am I bad?
CHRIS: I know you’re no worse than most men but I thought you were better. I never saw you as a man. I saw you as my father. Almost breaking: I can’t look at you this way, I can’t look at myself! He turns away unable to face Keller. Ann goes quickly to Mother, takes letter from her and starts for Chris. Mother instantly rushes to intercept her.
MOTHER: Give me that!
ANN: He’s going to read it! She thrusts letter into Chris’s hand. Larry. He wrote it to me the day he died. . . .
KELLER: Larry?!
MOTHER: Chris, it’s not for you. He starts to read. Joe . . . go away . . .
KELLER, mystified, frightened: Why’d she say, Larry, what . . . ?
MOTHER—she desperately pushes him toward alley, glancing at Chris: Go to the street, Joe, go to the street! She comes down beside Keller. Don’t, Chris . . . Pleading from her whole soul: Don’t tell him . . .
CHRIS, quietly: Three and one half years . . . talking, talking. Now you tell me what you must do. . . . This is how he died, now tell me where you belong.
KELLER, pleading: Chris, a man can’t be a Jesus in this world!
CHRIS: I know all about the world. I know the whole crap story. Now listen to this, and tell me what a man’s got to be! Reads: “My dear Ann . . . ” You listening? He wrote this the day he died. Listen, don’t cry . . . listen! “My dear Ann: It is impossible to put down the things I feel. But I’ve got to tell you something. Yesterday they flew in a load of papers from the States and I read about Dad and your father being convicted. I can’t express myself. I can’t tell you how I feel—I can’t bear to live any more. Last night I circled the base for twenty minutes before I could bring myself in. How could he have done that? Every day three or four men never come back and he sits back there doing business. . . . I don’t know how to tell you what I feel . . . I can’t face anybody . . . I’m going out on a mission in a few minutes. They’ll probably report me missing. If they do, I want you to know that you mustn’t wait for me. I tell you, Ann, if I had him here now I could kill him—” Keller grabs letter from Chris’s hand and reads it. After a long pause: Now blame the world. Do you understand that letter?
KELLER—he speaks almost inaudibly: I think I do. Get the car, I’ll put on my jacket. He turns and starts slowly for the house. Mother rushes to intercept him.
MOTHER: Why are you going? You’ll sleep, why are you going?
KELLER: I can’t sleep here. I’ll feel better if I go.
MOTHER: You’re so foolish. Larry was your son too, wasn’t he? You know he’d never tell you to do this.
KELLER, looking at letter in his hand: Then what is this if it isn’t telling me? Sure, he was my son. But I think to him they were all my sons. And I guess they were, I guess they were. I’ll be right down. Exits into house.
MOTHER, to Chris, with determination: You’re not going to take him!
CHRIS: I’m taking him.
MOTHER: It’s up to you, if you tell him to stay he’ll stay. Go and tell him!
CHRIS: Nobody could stop him now.
MOTHER: You’ll stop him! How long will he live in prison?—are you trying to kill him?
CHRIS, holding out letter: I thought you read this!
MOTHER, of Larry, the letter: The war is over! Didn’t you hear?—it’s over!
CHRIS: Then what was Larry to you? A stone that fell into the water? It’s not enough for him to be sorry. Larry didn’t kill himself to make you and Dad sorry.
MOTHER: What more can we be!
CHRIS: You can be better! Once and for all you can know there’s a universe of people outside and you’re responsible to it, and unless you know that you threw away your son because that’s why he died.
A shot is heard in the house. They stand frozen for a brief second. Chris starts for porch, pauses at step, turns to Ann.
CHRIS: Find Jim! He goes on into the house and Ann runs up driveway. Mother stands alone, transfixed.
MOTHER, softly, almost moaning: Joe . . . Joe . . . Joe . . . Joe . . .
Chris comes out of house, down to Mother’s arms.
CHRIS, almost crying: Mother, I didn’t mean to . . .
MOTHER: Don’t, dear. Don’t take it on yourself. Forget now. Live. Chris stirs as if to answer. Shhh . . . She puts his arms down gently and moves towards porch. Shhh . . . As she reaches porch steps she begins sobbing, as:
THE CURTAIN FALLS.
PROPERTY LIST
I
Garbage pail
Leaf burner
Sunday paper
Paper bag
Flower petals
Glass of water and aspirins
Ladder
Pot of raw stringbeans
II
Limb of broken-off tree
Tray with grape juice, pitcher, glasses
Scrap of paper
Hat (for George)
Flowered hat (for Lydia)
Sheet of paper
About 6 apples in small fruit box
Saw
III
Letter
NOTES
1. Interview with the author for BBC TV, “Miller Shorts” (1999).
2. Arthur Miller, The Theatre Essays of Arthur Miller, ed. Robert A. Martin and Steven R. Centola (New York, 1996), p. 133.
3. Arthur Miller, A View from the Bridge, All My Sons (Harmondsworth, 1961), p. 104.
4. Ibid., p. 129.
5. Ibid., p. 128.
6. Arthur Miller, Timebends (London, 1987), p. 134.
7. Theatre Essays, p. 128.
8. Ibid., p. 130.
9. Edvard Beyer, Ibsen: The Man and His Work, trans. Marie Wells (London, 1978), p. 138.
10. Interview with the author.
11. Arthur Miller, Collected
Plays (London, 1958), pp. 22, 134.
12. Interview with the author.
13. Clifford Odets, Golden Boy, Awake and Sing, The Big Knife (Harmondsworth, 1963), p. 136.
14. Interview with the author.
15. Christopher Bigsby, ed., Arthur Miller and Company (London, 1990), p. 50.
16. Interview with the author.
17. Ibid.
18. Ibid.
19. Ibid.
20. Ibid.
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