Broken Glass

by Arthur Miller

  GELLBURG: But there are some days I feel like going and sitting in the schul with the old men and pulling the talles over my head and be a full-time Jew the rest of my life. With the sidelocks and the black hat, and settle it once and for all. And other times... yes, I could almost kill them. They infuriate me. I am ashamed of them and that I look like them. Gasping again: -Why must we be different? Why is it? What is it for?

  HYMAN: And supposing it turns out that we’re not different, who are you going to blame then?

  GELLBURG: What are you talking about?

  HYMAN: I’m talking about all this grinding and screaming that’s going on inside you—you’re wearing yourself out for nothing, Phillip, absolutely nothing!—I’ll tell you a secret—I have all kinds coming into my office, and there’s not one of them who one way or another is not persecuted. Yes. Everybody’s persecuted. The poor by the rich, the rich by the poor, the black by the white, the white by the black, the men by the women, the women by the men, the Catholics by the Protestants, the Protestants by the Catholics—and of course all of them by the Jews. Everybody’s persecuted-sometimes I wonder, maybe that’s what holds this country together! And what’s really amazing is that you can’t find anybody who’s persecuting anybody else.

  GELLBURG: So you mean there’s no Hitler?

  HYMAN: Hitler? Hitler is the perfect example of the persecuted man! I’ve heard him—he kvetches like an elephant was standing on his pecker! They’ve turned that whole beautiful country into one gigantic kvetch! Takes his bag. The nurse’ll be here soon.

  GELLBURG: So what’s the solution?

  HYMAN: I don’t see any. Except the mirror. But nobody’s going to look at himself and ask what am I doing—you might as well tell him to take a seat in the hottest part of hell. Forgive her, Phillip, is all I really know to tell you. Grins: But that’s the easy part—I speak from experience.

  GELLBURG: What’s the hard part?

  HYMAN: To forgive yourself, I guess. And the Jews. And while you’re at it, you can throw in the goyim. Best thing for the heart you know.

  Hyman exits. Gellburg is left alone, staring into space. Sylvia enters, Margaret pushing the chair.

  MARGARET: I’ll leave you now, Sylvia.

  SYLVIA: Thanks for sitting with me.

  GELLBURG, a little wave of the hand: Thank you Mrs. Hyman!

  MARGARET: I think your color’s coming back a little.

  GELLBURG: Well, I’ve been running around the block.

  MARGARET, a burst of laughter and shaking her finger at him: I always knew there was a sense of humor somewhere inside that black suit!

  GELLBURG: Yes, well... I finally got the joke.

  MARGARET, laughs, and to Sylvia: I’ll try to look in tomorrow. To both: Good-bye!

  Margaret exits.

  A silence between them grows self-conscious.

  GELLBURG: You all right in that room?

  SYLVIA: It’s better this way, we’ll both get more rest. You all right?

  GELLBURG: I want to apologize.

  SYLVIA: I’m not blaming you, Phillip. The years I wasted I know I threw away myself. I think I always knew I was doing it but I couldn’t stop it.

  GELLBURG: If only you could believe I never meant you harm, it would...

  SYLVIA: I believe you. But I have to tell you something. When I said not to sleep with me ...

  GELLBURG: I know...

  SYLVIA, nervously sharp: You don’t know!—I’m trying to tell you something! Containing herself: For some reason I keep thinking of how I used to be; remember my parents’ house, how full of love it always was? Nobody was ever afraid of anything. But with us, Phillip, wherever I looked there was something to be suspicious about, somebody who was going to take advantage or God knows what. I’ve been tip-toeing around my life for thirty years and I’m not going to pretend—I hate it all now. Everything I did is stupid and ridiculous. I can’t find myself in my life.

  She hits her legs.

  Or in this now, this thing that can’t even walk. I’m not this thing. And it has me. It has me and will never let me go.

  She weeps.

  GELLBURG: Sshh! I understand. I wasn’t telling you the truth. I always tried to seem otherwise, but I’ve been more afraid than I looked.

  SYLVIA: Afraid of what?

  GELLBURG: Everything. Of Germany. Mr. Case. Of what could happen to us here. I think I was more afraid than you are, a hundred times more! And meantime there are Chinese Jews, for God’s sake.

  SYLVIA: What do you mean?

  GELLBURG: They’re Chinese!-and here I spend a lifetime looking in the mirror at my face!—Why we’re different I will never understand but to live so afraid, I don’t want that anymore. I tell you, if I live I have to try to change myself.—Sylvia, my darling Sylvia, I’m asking you not to blame me anymore. I feel I did this to you! That’s the knife in my heart.

  Gellburg’s breathing begins to labor.

  SYLVIA, alarmed: Phillip!

  GELLBURG: God almighty, Sylvia forgive me!

  A paroxysm forces Gellburg up to a nearly sitting position, agony on his face.

  SYLVIA: Wait! Phillip!

  Struggling to break free of the chair’s support, she starts pressing down on the chair arms.

  There’s nothing to blame! There’s nothing to blame!

  Gellburg falls back; unconscious. She struggles to balance herself on her legs and takes a faltering step toward her husband.

  Wait, wait ... Phillip, Phillip!

  Astounded, charged with hope yet with a certain inward seeing, she looks down at her legs, only now aware that she has risen to her feet.

  Lights fade.

  THE END.