She does not react. She stands there gaping at him. He waits. With no sound she backs a few steps, then comes downstage and lightly sets both hands on the couch, never taking her eyes from him. A pause. As though hearing what he said again, she is impelled to move again, to a chair on whose back she sets a hand—facing him now. They stand so a moment.
I thought surely you knew. Or at least you would know soon. She does not answer. Do you know?
HESTER: I’ve almost thought so sometimes. . . . But I can’t believe he . . .
GUS—a new directness, now that she has taken the blow: I have been trying to straighten him out all month. But I have no more wisdom, Hester. I . . . I would like to take him to the doctors in Burley.
HESTER, shocked: Burley!
GUS: Tonight. They will know what to say to him there.
HESTER, horrified: No, he’s not going there.
GUS: It is no disgrace. You are talking like a silly woman.
HESTER: He’s not going there! There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s worried, that’s all . . .
GUS: When those animals begin dying he will be more than worried. Nothing worse could possibly happen . . .
HESTER: No. If he can take the shock tonight he’ll be all right. I think it’s better if they die.
GUS: For God’s sake, no!
HESTER: All his life he’s been waiting for it. All his life, waiting, waiting for something to happen. It’ll be over now, all over, don’t you see? Just stay here tonight. And when it happens, you’ll talk to him . . .
GUS: What he has lost I can’t put back, Hester. He is not a piece of machinery.
HESTER, stops moving: What has he lost? What do you mean, lost?
GUS: What a man must have, what a man must believe. That on this earth he is the boss of his life. Not the leafs in the teacups, not the stars. In Europe I seen already millions of Davids walking around, millions. They gave up already to know that they are the boss. They gave up to know that they deserve this world. And now here too, with such good land, with such a . . . such a big sky they are saying . . . I hear it every day . . . that it is somehow unnatural for a man to have a sweet life and nice things. Daily they wait for catastrophe. A man must understand the presence of God in his hands. And when he don’t understand it he is trapped. David is trapped, Hester. You understand why everything he has is in the mink?
HESTER, wide-eyed: It’s the baby, isn’t it. He thought it was going to be . . .
GUS: Dead, yes. Say, say out now. I was here that night. He always wanted so much to have a son and that is why he saw him dead. This, what he wanted most of all he couldn’t have. This finally would be his catastrophe. And then everything would be guaranteed for him. And that is why he put everything in those animals.
HESTER: Gus . . .
GUS: The healthy baby stole from David his catastrophe, Hester. Perfect he was born and David was left with every penny he owns in an animal that can die like this . . . Snaps his fingers. . . . and the catastrophe still on its way.
HESTER, seeing the reason: He never touched the baby . . .
GUS: How can he touch him? He is bleeding with shame, Hester. Because he betrayed his son, and he betrayed you. And now if those animals die he will look into the tea leafs of his mind, into the sky he will look where he always looked, and if he sees retribution there . . . you will not call him worried any more. Let me take him to Burley before he notices anything wrong in the cages.
HESTER: No. He’s Davey, he’s not some . . .
GUS: They will know what to do there!
HESTER: I know what to do! She moves away and faces him. I could have warned him. . . . Dan called before he started feeding.
GUS, shocked and furious: Hester!
HESTER: I wanted them dead! I want them dead now, those beautiful rats!
GUS: How could you do that!
HESTER: He’s got to lose. Once and for all he’s got to lose. I always knew it had to happen, let it happen now, before the baby can see and understand. You’re not taking him anywhere. He’ll be happy again. It’ll be over and he’ll be happy!
GUS, unwillingly: Hester.
HESTER: No, I’m not afraid now. It’ll be over now.
GUS: What will be over, Hester? He took out last week an insurance policy. A big one. Hester stops moving. It covers his life.
HESTER: No, Gus.
GUS: What will be over?
HESTER, a cry: No, Gus! Breaks into sobbing.
GUS, taking her by the arms: Get hold now, get hold!
HESTER, sobbing, shaking her head negatively: Davey, Davey . . . he was always so fine, what happened to him . . . !
GUS: He mustn’t see you this way . . . ! Nothing is worse than . . .
HESTER, trying to break from Gus to go out: Davey, Davey . . . !
GUS: Stop it, Hester! He’s shamed enough!
He has her face in his hands as the door suddenly opens and David is standing there. Gus releases her. They stand apart. David has stopped moving in surprise. He looks at her, then at Gus, then at her. David goes toward her.
DAVID, astonished, alarmed: Hess. What’s the matter?
HESTER: Nothing . . . How is everything outside?
DAVID: It’s still hailing . . . Stops. With an edge of self-accusation: Why were you crying?
HESTER, her voice still wet: I wasn’t really.
DAVID, feeling the awkwardness, glances at both; to Gus: Why were you holding her?
HESTER, with an attempt at a laugh: He wasn’t holding me. He’s decided to go to Chicago and . . .
DAVID, mystified, to Gus: Chicago! Why . . . ?
HESTER, tries to laugh: He wants to find a wife! Imagine?
DAVID, to Gus: All of a sudden you . . . ?
HESTER, unbuttoning his coat, ready to weep and trying to be gay: Let’s have some tea and sit up till way late and talk! Don’t go out anymore, Davey. . . . From now on I’m not letting you out of my sight. . . . There are so many nice things to talk about!
She has his coat and has just stepped away with a gross animation.
DAVID, deeply worried. Brushing her attempt away: Why were you crying, Hester?
The phone rings. Hester fairly leaps at the sound. She starts quickly for the phone but David is close to it and picks it up easily, slightly puzzled at her frantic eagerness to take it.
HESTER: It’s probably Ellie. I promised to lend her a hat for tomorrow.
DAVID—looks at her perplexed. He lifts the receiver: Yes?
As she speaks Hester steps away from him, in fear now. Gus changes position instinctively, almost as though for physical advantage.
Mr. Dibble? No, he isn’t here; I don’t expect him. Oh! Well, he isn’t here yet. What’s it all about? Listens. What are you talking about; have I got what under control? Listens. Now with horror: Of course I’ve fed! Why didn’t you call me, you know I feed before this! God damn your soul, you know I use the same feed he does! Roars: Don’t tell me he called me! Don’t . . . ! Listens. When did he call?
Breaks off; listens. He turns, listening, to Hester; slowly, an expression of horrified perplexity and astonishment grips his face. His eyes stay on Hester.
Well, they seem all right now . . . maybe it hasn’t had time to grip them. Still into the phone: Yeh . . . yeh . . . all right, I’ll wait for him.
He hangs up weakly. For a long time he looks at her. Then he looks at Gus and back to her as though connecting them somehow.
What . . . Why . . . didn’t you tell me he called?
HESTER—suddenly she dares not be too near him; she holds out a hand to touch and ward him off . . . she is a distance from him: Davey . . .
DAVID: Why didn’t you stop me from feeding?
GUS: Dan’ll be here. Maybe he can do something.
DAVID, facing Hester: What can h
e do? Something’s wrong in the feed! He can’t pull it out of their stomachs! With welling grief. To Hester: Why didn’t you tell me? Hester retreats a few inches. Why are you moving away from me? He suddenly reaches out and catches her arm. You wanted them to die!
HESTER, straining at his grip: You always said something had to happen. It’s better this way, isn’t it?
DAVID: Better?! My boy is a pauper, we’re on the bottom of a hole, how is it better!
HESTER—her fear alone makes her brave: Then I . . . I think I’ll have to go away, Davey. I can’t stay here, then.
She moves toward the stairs. He lets her move a few steps, then moves across to her and she stops and faces him.
DAVID: You can’t . . . What did you say?
HESTER: I can’t live with you, Davey. Not with the baby.
DAVID: No, Hester . . .
HESTER: I don’t want him to see you this way. It’s a harmful thing. I’m going away.
DAVID—he breathes as though about to burst into weeping. He looks to Gus, stares at him, then back to her. Incredibly: You’re going with him?
HESTER—she darts a suddenly frightened glance toward Gus: Oh, no, no, I didn’t mean that. He was going anyway.
DAVID—it is truer to him now: You’re going with him.
HESTER: No, David, I’m not going with anybody . . .
DAVID, with certainty. Anger suddenly stalks him: You’re going with him!
HESTER: No, Davey . . . !
DAVID, to Gus: You told her not to tell me!
HESTER: He wasn’t even here when Dan phoned!
DAVID: How do I know where he was! To Gus: You think I’m a blind boy?!
HESTER: You’re talking like a fool!
DAVID: You couldn’t have done this to me! He wants you!
He starts to stride for Gus. Hester gets in front of him.
HESTER: I did it! Grabs his coat. Davey, I did it myself!
DAVID: No, you couldn’t have! Not you! To Gus: You think I’ve fallen apart? You want her . . . ?
He starts to push her aside, knocking a chair over, going for Gus. She slaps him hard across the face. He stops moving.
HESTER, with loathing and heartbreak: I did it!
For an instant they are still, she watching for his reaction. He quietly draws in a sob, looking at her in grief.
HESTER: I wanted you like you were, Davey—a good man, able to do anything. You were always a good man, why can’t you understand that?
DAVID: A good man! You pick up a phone and everything you’ve got dies in the ground! A man! What good is a man!
HESTER: You can start again, start fresh and clean!
DAVID: For what! For what!! The world is a madhouse, what can you build in a madhouse that won’t be knocked down when you turn your back!
HESTER: It was you made it all and you destroyed it! I’m going, Davey . . . With a sob: I can’t bear any more. She rushes to the landing.
DAVID, a call, and yet strangled by sobs: Hester . . .
Hester halts, looks at him. His hands raised toward her, shaken and weeping, he moves toward the landing . . . frantically.
I love you. . . . I love you. . . . Don’t . . . don’t . . . don’t.
He reaches her, and sobbing, lost, starts drawing her down to him as the door, left, swings open. Dan Dibble rushes in and halts when he sees David. He carries a small satchel.
DIBBLE, indicating downstage, right: I’ve been out there looking for you, what are you doing in here? I’ve got something may help them. Come on. He starts for the door.
DAVID: I don’t want to look at them, Dan. He goes to a chair.
DIBBLE: You can’t be sure, it might take . . . Opens the door.
DAVID: No, I’m sure they digested, it’s over two hours.
DIBBLE, stops moving suddenly at door: Over two hours what?
DAVID: Since I fed them.
DIBBLE: You didn’t give them this morning’s load of fish?
DAVID: What else could I give them? The load I split with you, goddamit.
DIBBLE: Well, you just couldn’t’ve, David. They don’t show a sign yet: that kind of silkworm’ll kill them in twenty minutes. You must’ve . . .
DAVID: Silkworm.—But my fish wasn’t wormy . . .
DIBBLE: They don’t look like worms, they’re very small, you wouldn’t have noticed them, they’re black, about the size of a . . .
DAVID: Poppyseed . . .
DIBBLE: A grain of ground pepper, yah. Come on . . . But David is motionless, staring . . . Well? You want me to look at them?
David slowly sits in a chair.
GUS: At least have a look, Dave. Slight pause.
DAVID, wondrously; but also an edge of apology: . . . I saw them, Dan. I didn’t know what they were but I decided not to take any chances, so I threw them away.
DIBBLE, angering: But you couldn’t have gone over every piece of fish!
DAVID: Well I . . . yah, I did, Dan. Most of it was okay, but the ones with the black specks I threw away.
HESTER: Davey!—You saved them!
DAVID: Well, you told me to watch the feed very carefully, Dan—I figured you’d notice them the same as me!
DIBBLE: But you know nobody’s got the time to go over every goddam piece of fish!
DAVID: But I thought everybody did!—I swear, Dan!
DIBBLE: God Almighty, Dave, a man’d think you’d warn him if you saw silkworm!—The least you could’ve done is call me.
DAVID: I started to, I had the phone in my hand—but it seemed ridiculous, me telling you something. Listen, let me give you some of my breeders to start you off again.
DIBBLE: No—no . . .
DAVID: Please, Dan, go out and pick whatever you like.
DIBBLE: . . . Well, I might think about that, but I’m too old to start all over again, I don’t think I could get up the steam. Well, goodnight.
Dibble exits.
Gus and Hester stand watching David who is puzzled and astonished.
DAVID: I can’t believe it. He’s the best in the business.
GUS: Not anymore.
HESTER: This wasn’t something from the sky, dear. This was you only. You must see that now, don’t you?
The baby crying is heard from above.
I’d better go up, he’s hungry. Come up?—Why don’t you, Dave?
DAVID, awkwardly: I will . . . right away. Hester exits. His face is rapt. But they couldn’t all have made their own luck!—J.B. with his drinking, Shory with his whores, Dad and Amos . . . and you losing your shop. Seizing on it: And I could never have fixed that Marmon if you hadn’t walked in like some kind of an angel!—That Marmon wasn’t me!
GUS: You’d have towed it to Newton and fixed it there without me. Grasps David’s hand. But is that really the question anyway? Of course bad things must happen. And you can’t help it when God drops the other shoe. But whether you lay there or get up again—that’s the part that’s entirely up to you, that’s for sure.
DAVID: You don’t understand it either, do you.
GUS: No, but I live with it. All I know is you are a good man, but also you have luck. So you have to grin and bear it—you are lucky!
DAVID: For now.
GUS: Well, listen—“for now” is a very big piece of “forever.”
HESTER, from above: Dave? You coming up?
GUS: Go on, kiss the little fellow.
DAVID: . . . I had the phone in my hand to call him. And I put it down. I had his whole ranch right here in my hand.
GUS: You mean you were a little bit like God . . . for him.
DAVID: Yes. Except I didn’t know it.
GUS, a thumb pointing heavenward: Maybe he doesn’t know either.
HESTER, from above: David? Are you there?
GUS: G
oodnight, Dave.
DAVID, with a farewell wave to Gus, calls upstairs: Yes, I’m here!
He goes to the stairs. A shock of thunder strikes. He quickly turns toward the windows, the old apprehension in his face.
. . . To himself: For now.
With a self-energized determination in his voice and body. Comin’ up!
As he mounts the stairs a rumble of thunder sounds in the distance.
ALL MY SONS
A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS
1947
Characters
JOE KELLER
KATE KELLER
CHRIS KELLER
ANN DEEVER
GEORGE DEEVER
DR. JIM BAYLISS
SUE BAYLISS
FRANK LUBEY
LYDIA LUBEY
BERT
SYNOPSIS OF SCENES
Act One
The back yard of the Keller home in the outskirts of an American town. August of our era.
Act Two
Scene, as before. The same evening, as twilight falls.
Act Three
Scene, as before. Two o’clock the following morning.
ACT ONE
The back yard of the Keller home in the outskirts of an American town. August of our era.
The stage is hedged on right and left by tall, closely planted poplars which lend the yard a secluded atmosphere. Upstage is filled with the back of the house and its open, unroofed porch which extends into the yard some six feet. The house is two stories high and has seven rooms. It would have cost perhaps fifteen thousand in the early twenties when it was built. Now it is nicely painted, looks tight and comfortable, and the yard is green with sod, here and there plants whose season is gone. At the right, beside the house, the entrance of the driveway can be seen, but the poplars cut off view of its continuation downstage. In the left corner, downstage, stands the four-foot-high stump of a slender apple tree whose upper trunk and branches lie toppled beside it, fruit still clinging to its branches. Downstage right is a small, trellised arbor, shaped like a sea-shell, with a decorative bulb hanging from its forward-curving roof. Garden chairs and a table are scattered about. A garbage pail on the ground next to the porch steps, a wire leaf-burner near it.
The Penguin Arthur Miller Page 10