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* * * * *
PLAYS
BY SUSAN GLASPELL
[Illustration]
BOSTON
SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
* * * * *
Copyright, 1920, BY SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY (INCORPORATED)
PRODUCTION OF ANY OF THE PLAYS HEREIN PRINTED MUST NOT BE MADE EXCEPT
BY WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR, WHO MAY BE ADDRESSED IN CARE OF
THE PUBLISHERS
PRESS OF GEO. H. ELLIS CO., BOSTON
CONTENTS
PAGE
TRIFLES. _A Play in One Act_ 1
THE PEOPLE. _A Play in One Act_ 31
CLOSE THE BOOK. _A Comedy in One Act_ 61
THE OUTSIDE. _A Play in One Act_ 97
WOMAN’S HONOR. _A Comedy in One Act_ 119
BERNICE. _A Play in Three Acts_ 157
SUPPRESSED DESIRES. _A Comedy in Two Scenes_ 231
(IN COLLABORATION WITH GEORGE CRAM COOK)
TICKLESS TIME. _A Comedy in One Act_ 273
(IN COLLABORATION WITH GEORGE CRAM COOK)
* * * * *
TRIFLES
A PLAY IN ONE ACT
* * * * *
First Performed by the Provincetown Players at the Wharf Theatre,
Provincetown, Mass., August 8, 1916
ORIGINAL CAST
GEORGE HENDERSON, _County Attorney_ ROBERT ROGERS
HENRY PETERS, _Sheriff_ ROBERT CONVILLE
LEWIS HALE, _A Neighboring Farmer_ GEORGE CRAM COOK
MRS. PETERS ALICE HALL
MRS. HALE SUSAN GLASPELL
TRIFLES
SCENE: _The kitchen in the now abandoned farmhouse of JOHN WRIGHT, a
gloomy kitchen, and left without having been put in order--unwashed
pans under the sink, a loaf of bread outside the bread-box, a
dish-towel on the table--other signs of incompleted work. At the rear
the outer door opens and the SHERIFF comes in followed by the COUNTY
ATTORNEY and HALE. The SHERIFF and HALE are men in middle life, the
COUNTY ATTORNEY is a young man; all are much bundled up and go at once
to the stove. They are followed by the two women--the SHERIFF’S wife
first; she is a slight wiry woman, a thin nervous face. MRS. HALE is
larger and would ordinarily be called more comfortable looking, but she
is disturbed now and looks fearfully about as she enters. The women
have come in slowly, and stand close together near the door._
COUNTY ATTORNEY
[_Rubbing his hands._] This feels good. Come up to the fire, ladies.
MRS. PETERS
[_After taking a step forward._] I’m not--cold.
SHERIFF
[_Unbuttoning his overcoat and stepping away from the stove as if to
mark the beginning of official business._] Now, Mr. Hale, before we
move things about, you explain to Mr. Henderson just what you saw when
you came here yesterday morning.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
By the way, has anything been moved? Are things just as you left them
yesterday?
SHERIFF
[_Looking about._] It’s just the same. When it dropped below zero last
night I thought I’d better send Frank out this morning to make a fire
for us--no use getting pneumonia with a big case on, but I told him not
to touch anything except the stove--and you know Frank.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
Somebody should have been left here yesterday.
SHERIFF
Oh--yesterday. When I had to send Frank to Morris Center for that man
who went crazy--I want you to know I had my hands full yesterday. I
knew you could get back from Omaha by today and as long as I went over
everything here myself--
COUNTY ATTORNEY
Well, Mr. Hale, tell just what happened when you came here yesterday
morning.
HALE
Harry and I had started to town with a load of potatoes. We came along
the road from my place and as I got here I said, “I’m going to see if I
can’t get John Wright to go in with me on a party telephone.” I spoke
to Wright about it once before and he put me off, saying folks talked
too much anyway, and all he asked was peace and quiet--I guess you know
about how much he talked himself; but I thought maybe if I went to the
house and talked about it before his wife, though I said to Harry that
I didn’t know as what his wife wanted made much difference to John--
COUNTY ATTORNEY
Let’s talk about that later, Mr. Hale. I do want to talk about that,
but tell now just what happened when you got to the house.
HALE
I didn’t hear or see anything; I knocked at the door, and still it was
all quiet inside. I knew they must be up, it was past eight o’clock.
So I knocked again, and I thought I heard somebody say, “Come in.”
I wasn’t sure, I’m not sure yet, but I opened the door--this door
[_indicating the door by which the two women are still standing_] and
there in that rocker--[_pointing to it_] sat Mrs. Wright.
[_They all look at the rocker._
COUNTY ATTORNEY
What--was she doing?
HALE
She was rockin’ back and forth. She had her apron in her hand and was
kind of--pleating it.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
And how did she--look?
HALE
Well, she looked queer.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
How do you mean--queer?
HALE
Well, as if she didn’t know what she was going to do next. And kind of
done up.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
How did she seem to feel about your coming?
HALE
Why, I don’t think she minded--one way or other. She didn’t pay much
attention. I said, “How do, Mrs. Wright, it’s cold, ain’t it?” And she
said, “Is it?”--and went on kind of pleating at her apron. Well, I was
surprised; she didn’t ask me to come up to the stove, or to set down,
but just sat there, not even looking at me, so I said, “I want to see
John.” And then she--laughed. I guess you would call it a laugh. I
thought of Harry and the team outside, so I said a little sharp: “Can’t
I see John?” “No,” she says, kind o’ dull like. “Ain’t he home?” says
I. “Yes,” says she, “he’s home.” “Then why can’t I see him?” I asked
her, out of patience. “’Cause he’s dead,” says she. “_Dead?_” says
I. She just nodded her head, not getting a bit excited, but rockin’
back and forth. “Why--where is he?” says I, not knowing what to say.
She just pointed upstairs--like that [_himself pointing to the room
above_]. I got up, with the idea of going up there. I walked from there
to here--then I says, “Why, what did he die of?” “He died of a rope
round his neck,” says she, and just went on pleatin’ at her apron.
Well, I went out and called Harry. I thought I might--need help. We
went upstairs and there he was lyin’--
COUNTY ATTORNEY
I think I’d rather have you go into that upstairs, where you can point
it all out. Just go on now with the rest of the story.
HALE
Well, my first thought was to get that rope off. It looked ... [_Stops,
his face twitches_] ... but Harry, he went up to him, and he said, “No,
he’s dead all right, and we’d better not touch anything.” So we went
back down stairs. She was still sitting that same way. “Has anybody
been notified?” I asked. “No,” says she, unconcerned. “Who did this,
Mrs. Wright?” said Harry. He said it business-like--and she stopped
pleatin’ of her apron. “I don’t know,” she says. “You don’t _know_?”
says Harry. “No,” says she. “Weren’t you sleepin’ in the bed with him?”
says Harry. “Yes,” says she, “but I was on the inside.” “Somebody
slipped a rope round his neck and strangled him and you didn’t wake
up?” says Harry. “I didn’t wake up,” she said after him. We must ’a
looked as if we didn’t see how that could be, for after a minute she
said, “I sleep sound.” Harry was going to ask her more questions but I
said maybe we ought to let her tell her story first to the coroner,
or the sheriff, so Harry went fast as he could to Rivers’ place, where
there’s a telephone.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
And what did Mrs. Wright do when she knew that you had gone for the
coroner?
HALE
She moved from that chair to this one over here [_Pointing to a
small chair in the corner_] and just sat there with her hands held
together and looking down. I got a feeling that I ought to make some
conversation, so I said I had come in to see if John wanted to put in a
telephone, and at that she started to laugh, and then she stopped and
looked at me--scared. [_The COUNTY ATTORNEY, who has had his notebook
out, makes a note._] I dunno, maybe it wasn’t scared. I wouldn’t like
to say it was. Soon Harry got back, and then Dr. Lloyd came, and you,
Mr. Peters, and so I guess that’s all I know that you don’t.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
[_Looking around._] I guess we’ll go upstairs first--and then out to
the barn and around there. [_To the SHERIFF._] You’re convinced that
there was nothing important here--nothing that would point to any
motive.
SHERIFF
Nothing here but kitchen things.
[_The COUNTY ATTORNEY, after again looking around the kitchen, opens
the door of a cupboard closet. He gets up on a chair and looks on a
shelf. Pulls his hand away, sticky._
COUNTY ATTORNEY
Here’s a nice mess.
[_The women draw nearer._
MRS. PETERS
[_To the other woman._] Oh, her fruit; it did freeze. [_To the
LAWYER._] She worried about that when it turned so cold. She said the
fire’d go out and her jars would break.
SHERIFF
Well, can you beat the women! Held for murder and worryin’ about her
preserves.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
I guess before we’re through she may have something more serious than
preserves to worry about.
HALE
Well, women are used to worrying over trifles.
[_The two women move a little closer together._
COUNTY ATTORNEY
[_With the gallantry of a young politician._] And yet, for all their
worries, what would we do without the ladies? [_The women do not
unbend. He goes to the sink, takes a dipperful of water from the pail
and pouring it into a basin, washes his hands. Starts to wipe them on
the roller-towel, turns it for a cleaner place._] Dirty towels! [_Kicks
his foot against the pans under the sink._] Not much of a housekeeper,
would you say, ladies?
MRS. HALE
[_Stiffly._] There’s a great deal of work to be done on a farm.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
To be sure. And yet [_With a little bow to her_] I know there are some
Dickson county farmhouses which do not have such roller towels.
[_He gives it a pull to expose its full length again._
MRS. HALE
Those towels get dirty awful quick. Men’s hands aren’t always as clean
as they might be.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
Ah, loyal to your sex, I see. But you and Mrs. Wright were neighbors. I
suppose you were friends, too.
MRS. HALE
[_Shaking her head._] I’ve not seen much of her of late years. I’ve not
been in this house--it’s more than a year.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
And why was that? You didn’t like her?
MRS. HALE
I liked her all well enough. Farmers’ wives have their hands full, Mr.
Henderson. And then--
COUNTY ATTORNEY
Yes--?
MRS. HALE
[_Looking about._] It never seemed a very cheerful place.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
No--it’s not cheerful. I shouldn’t say she had the homemaking instinct.
MRS. HALE
Well, I don’t know as Wright had, either.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
You mean that they didn’t get on very well?
MRS. HALE
No, I don’t mean anything. But I don’t think a place’d be any
cheerfuller for John Wright’s being in it.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
I’d like to talk more of that a little later. I want to get the lay of
things upstairs now.
[_He goes to the left, where three steps lead to a stair door._
SHERIFF
I suppose anything Mrs. Peters does’ll be all right. She was to take
in some clothes for her, you know, and a few little things. We left in
such a hurry yesterday.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
Yes, but I would like to see what you take, Mrs. Peters, and keep an
eye out for anything that might be of use to us.
MRS. PETERS
Yes, Mr. Henderson.
[_The women listen to the men’s steps on the stairs, then look about
the kitchen._
MRS. HALE
I’d hate to have men coming into my kitchen, snooping around and
criticising.
[_She arranges the pans under sink which the LAWYER had shoved out of
place._
MRS. PETERS
Of course it’s no more than their duty.
MRS. HALE
Duty’s all right, but I guess that deputy sheriff that came out to make
the fire might have got a little of this on. [_Gives the roller towel a
pull._] Wish I’d thought of that sooner. Seems mean to talk about her
for not having things slicked up when she had to come away in such a
hurry.
MRS. PETERS
[_Who has gone to a small table in the left rear corner of the room,
and lifted one end of a towel that covers a pan._] She had bread set.
[_Stands still._
MRS. HALE
[_Eyes fixed on a loaf of bread beside the bread-box, which is on a
low shelf at the other side of the room. Moves slowly toward it._]
She was going to put this in there. [_Picks up loaf, then abruptly
drops it. In a manner of returning to familiar things._] It’s a shame
about her fruit. I wonder if it’s all gone. [_Gets up on the chair
and looks._] I think there’s some here that’s all right, Mrs. Peters.
Yes--here; [_Holding it toward the window_] this is cherries, too.
[_Looking again._] I declare I believe that’s the only one. [_Gets
down, bottle in her hand. Goes to the sink and wipes it off on the
outside._] She’ll feel awful bad after all her hard work in the hot
weather. I remember the afternoon I put up my cherries last summer.
[_She puts the bottle on the big kitchen table, center of the room.
With a sigh, is about to sit down in the rocking-chair. Before she
is seated realizes what chair it is; with a slow look at it, steps
back. The chair which she has touched rocks back and forth._
MRS. PETERS
Well, I must get those things from the front room closet. [_She goes
to the door at the right, but after looking into the other room, steps
back._] You coming with me, Mrs. Hale? You could help me carry them.
[_They go in the other room; reappear, MRS. PETERS carrying a dress
and skirt, MRS. HALE following with a pair of shoes._
MRS. PETERS
My, it’s cold in there.
[_She puts the clothes on the big table, and hurries to the stove._
MRS. HALE
[_Examining the skirt._] Wright was close. I think maybe that’s why
she kept so much to herself. She didn’t even belong to the Ladies Aid.
I suppose she felt she couldn’t do her part, and then you don’t enjoy
things when you feel shabby. She used to wear pretty clothes and be
lively, when she was Minnie Foster, one of the town girls singing in
the choir. But that--oh, that was thirty years ago. This all you was to
take in?
MRS. PETERS
She said she wanted an apron. Funny thing to want, for there isn’t much
to get you dirty in jail, goodness knows. But I suppose just to make
her feel more natural. She said they was in the top drawer in this
cupboard. Yes, here. And then her little shawl that always hung behind
the door. [_Opens stair door and looks._] Yes, here it is.
[_Quickly shuts door leading upstairs._
MRS. HALE
[_Abruptly moving toward her._] Mrs. Peters?
MRS. PETERS
Yes, Mrs. Hale?
MRS. HALE
Do you think she did it?
MRS. PETERS
[_In a frightened voice._] Oh, I don’t know.
MRS. HALE
Well, I don’t think she did. Asking for an apron and her little shawl.
Worrying about her fruit.
MRS. PETERS
[_Starts to speak, glances up, where footsteps are heard in the room
above. In a low voice._] Mr. Peters says it looks bad for her. Mr.
Henderson is awful sarcastic in a speech and he’ll make fun of her
sayin’ she didn’t wake up.
MRS. HALE
Well, I guess John Wright didn’t wake when they was slipping that rope
under his neck.
MRS. PETERS
No, it’s strange. It must have been done awful crafty and still. They
say it was such a--funny way to kill a man, rigging it all up like that.
MRS. HALE
That’s just what Mr. Hale said. There was a gun in the house. He says
that’s what he can’t understand.
MRS. PETERS
Mr. Henderson said coming out that what was needed for the case was a
motive; something to show anger, or--sudden feeling.
MRS. HALE
[_Who is standing by the table._] Well, I don’t see any signs of anger
around here. [_She puts her hand on the dish towel which lies on the
table, stands looking down at table, one half of which is clean, the
other half messy._] It’s wiped to here. [_Makes a move as if to finish
work, then turns and looks at loaf of bread outside the breadbox.
Drops towel. In that voice of coming back to familiar things._] Wonder
how they are finding things upstairs. I hope she had it a little more
red-up up there. You know, it seems kind of _sneaking_. Locking her up
in town and then coming out here and trying to get her own house to
turn against her!
MRS. PETERS
But Mrs. Hale, the law is the law.
MRS. HALE
I s’pose ’tis. [_Unbuttoning her coat._] Better loosen up your things,
Mrs. Peters. You won’t feel them when you go out.
[_MRS. PETERS takes off her fur tippet, goes to hang it on hook at
back of room, stands looking at the under part of the small corner
table._
MRS. PETERS
She was piecing a quilt.
[_She brings the large sewing basket and they look at the bright
pieces._
MRS. HALE
It’s log cabin pattern. Pretty, isn’t it? I wonder if she was goin’ to
quilt it or just knot it?
[_Footsteps have been heard coming down the stairs. The SHERIFF
enters followed by HALE and the COUNTY ATTORNEY._
SHERIFF
They wonder if she was going to quilt it or just knot it!
[_The men laugh, the women look abashed._
COUNTY ATTORNEY
[_Rubbing his hands over the stove._] Frank’s fire didn’t do much up
there, did it? Well, let’s go out to the barn and get that cleared up.
[_The men go outside._
MRS. HALE
[_Resentfully._] I don’t know as there’s anything so strange, our
takin’ up our time with little things while we’re waiting for them to
get the evidence. [_She sits down at the big table smoothing out a
block with decision._] I don’t see as it’s anything to laugh about.
MRS. PETERS
[_Apologetically._] Of course they’ve got awful important things on
their minds.
[_Pulls up a chair and joins MRS. HALE at the table._
MRS. HALE
[_Examining another block._] Mrs. Peters, look at this one. Here, this
is the one she was working on, and look at the sewing! All the rest
of it has been so nice and even. And look at this! It’s all over the
place! Why, it looks as if she didn’t know what she was about!
[_After she has said this they look at each other, then start to
glance back at the door. After an instant MRS. HALE has pulled at a
knot and ripped the sewing._
MRS. PETERS
Oh, what are you doing, Mrs. Hale?
MRS. HALE
[_Mildly._] Just pulling out a stitch or two that’s not sewed very
good. [_Threading a needle._] Bad sewing always made me fidgety.
MRS. PETERS
[_Nervously._] I don’t think we ought to touch things.
MRS. HALE
I’ll just finish up this end. [_Suddenly stopping and leaning
forward._] Mrs. Peters?
MRS. PETERS
Yes, Mrs. Hale?
MRS. HALE
What do you suppose she was so nervous about?
MRS. PETERS
Oh--I don’t know. I don’t know as she was nervous. I sometimes sew
awful queer when I’m just tired. [_MRS. HALE starts to say something,
looks at MRS. PETERS, then goes on sewing._] Well I must get these
things wrapped up. They may be through sooner than we think. [_Putting
apron and other things together._] I wonder where I can find a piece of
paper, and string.
MRS. HALE
In that cupboard, maybe.
MRS. PETERS
[_Looking in cupboard._] Why, here’s a bird-cage. [_Holds it up._] Did
she have a bird, Mrs. Hale?
MRS. HALE
Why, I don’t know whether she did or not--I’ve not been here for so
long. There was a man around last year selling canaries cheap, but I
don’t know as she took one; maybe she did. She used to sing real pretty
herself.
MRS. PETERS
[_Glancing around._] Seems funny to think of a bird here. But she must
have had one, or why would she have a cage? I wonder what happened to
it.
MRS. HALE
I s’pose maybe the cat got it.
MRS. PETERS
No, she didn’t have a cat. She’s got that feeling some people have
about cats--being afraid of them. My cat got in her room and she was
real upset and asked me to take it out.
MRS. HALE
My sister Bessie was like that. Queer, ain’t it?
MRS. PETERS
[_Examining the cage._] Why, look at this door. It’s broke. One hinge
is pulled apart.
MRS. HALE
[_Looking too._] Looks as if someone must have been rough with it.
MRS. PETERS
Why, yes.
[_She brings the cage forward and puts it on the table._
MRS. HALE
I wish if they’re going to find any evidence they’d be about it. I
don’t like this place.
MRS. PETERS
But I’m awful glad you came with me, Mrs. Hale. It would be lonesome
for me sitting here alone.
MRS. HALE
It would, wouldn’t it? [_Dropping her sewing._] But I tell you what I
do wish, Mrs. Peters. I wish I had come over sometimes when _she_ was
here. I--[_Looking around the room_]--wish I had.
MRS. PETERS
But of course you were awful busy, Mrs. Hale--your house and your
children.
MRS. HALE
I could’ve come. I stayed away because it weren’t cheerful--and that’s
why I ought to have come. I--I’ve never liked this place. Maybe because
it’s down in a hollow and you don’t see the road. I dunno what it is,
but it’s a lonesome place and always was. I wish I had come over to see
Minnie Foster sometimes. I can see now--
[_Shakes her head._
MRS. PETERS
Well, you mustn’t reproach yourself, Mrs. Hale. Somehow we just don’t
see how it is with other folks until--something comes up.
MRS. HALE
Not having children makes less work--but it makes a quiet house, and
Wright out to work all day, and no company when he did come in. Did you
know John Wright, Mrs. Peters?
MRS. PETERS
Not to know him; I’ve seen him in town. They say he was a good man.
MRS. HALE
Yes--good; he didn’t drink, and kept his word as well as most, I
guess, and paid his debts. But he was a hard man, Mrs. Peters. Just to
pass the time of day with him--[_Shivers._] Like a raw wind that gets
to the bone. [_Pauses, her eye falling on the cage._] I should think
she would ’a wanted a bird. But what do you suppose went with it?
MRS. PETERS
I don’t know, unless it got sick and died.
[_She reaches over and swings the broken door, swings it again, both
women watch it._
MRS. HALE
You weren’t raised round here, were you? [_MRS. PETERS shakes her
head._] You didn’t know--her?
MRS. PETERS
Not till they brought her yesterday.
MRS. HALE
She--come to think of it, she was kind of like a bird
herself--real sweet and pretty, but kind of timid and--fluttery.
How?--she--did--change. [_Silence; then as if struck by a happy thought
and relieved to get back to every day things._] Tell you what, Mrs.
Peters, why don’t you take the quilt in with you? It might take up her
mind.
MRS. PETERS
Why, I think that’s a real nice idea, Mrs. Hale. There couldn’t
possibly be any objection to it, could there? Now, just what would I
take? I wonder if her patches are in here--and her things.
[_They look in the sewing basket._
MRS. HALE
Here’s some red. I expect this has got sewing things in it. [_Brings
out a fancy box._] What a pretty box. Looks like something somebody
would give you. Maybe her scissors are in here. [_Opens box. Suddenly
puts her hand to her nose._] Why--[_MRS. PETERS bends nearer, then
turns her face away._] There’s something wrapped up in this piece of
silk.
MRS. PETERS
Why, this isn’t her scissors.
MRS. HALE
[_Lifting the silk._] Oh, Mrs. Peters--its--
[_MRS. PETERS bends closer._
MRS. PETERS
It’s the bird.
MRS. HALE
[_Jumping up._] But, Mrs. Peters--look at it! Its neck! Look at its
neck! It’s all--other side _to_.
MRS. PETERS
Somebody--wrung--its--neck.
[_Their eyes meet. A look of growing comprehension, of horror. Steps
are heard outside. MRS. HALE slips box under quilt pieces, and
sinks into her chair. Enter SHERIFF and COUNTY ATTORNEY. MRS.
PETERS rises._
COUNTY ATTORNEY
[_As one turning from serious things to little pleasantries._] Well,
ladies, have you decided whether she was going to quilt it or knot it?
MRS. PETERS
We think she was going to--knot it.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
Well, that’s interesting, I’m sure. [_Seeing the bird-cage._] Has the
bird flown?
MRS. HALE
[_Putting more quilt pieces over the box._] We think the--cat got it.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
[_Preoccupied._] Is there a cat?
[_MRS. HALE glances in a quick covert way at MRS. PETERS._
MRS. PETERS
Well, not _now_. They’re superstitious, you know. They leave.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
[_To SHERIFF PETERS, continuing an interrupted conversation._] No
sign at all of anyone having come from the outside. Their own rope.
Now let’s go up again and go over it piece by piece. [_They start
upstairs._] It would have to have been someone who knew just the--
[_MRS. PETERS sits down. The two women sit there not looking at one
another, but as if peering into something and at the same time
holding back. When they talk now it is in the manner of feeling
their way over strange ground, as if afraid of what they are
saying, but as if they can not help saying it._
MRS. HALE
She liked the bird. She was going to bury it in that pretty box.
MRS. PETERS
[_In a whisper._] When I was a girl--my kitten--there was a boy took a
hatchet, and before my eyes--and before I could get there--[_Covers her
face an instant._] If they hadn’t held me back I would have--[_Catches
herself, looks upstairs where steps are heard, falters weakly_]--hurt
him.
MRS. HALE
[_With a slow look around her._] I wonder how it would seem never to
have had any children around. [_Pause._] No, Wright wouldn’t like the
bird--a thing that sang. She used to sing. He killed that, too.
MRS. PETERS
[_Moving uneasily._] We don’t know who killed the bird.
MRS. HALE
I knew John Wright.
MRS. PETERS
It was an awful thing was done in this house that night, Mrs. Hale.
Killing a man while he slept, slipping a rope around his neck that
choked the life out of him.
MRS. HALE
His neck. Choked the life out of him.
[_Her hand goes out and rests on the bird-cage._
MRS. PETERS
[_With rising voice._] We don’t know who killed him. We don’t _know_.
MRS. HALE
[_Her own feeling not interrupted._] If there’d been years and years of
nothing, then a bird to sing to you, it would be awful--still, after
the bird was still.
MRS. PETERS
[_Something within her speaking._] I know what stillness is. When we
homesteaded in Dakota, and my first baby died--after he was two years
old, and me with no other then--
MRS. HALE
[_Moving._] How soon do you suppose they’ll be through, looking for the
evidence?
MRS. PETERS
I know what stillness is. [_Pulling herself back._] The law has got to
punish crime, Mrs. Hale.
MRS. HALE
[_Not as if answering that._] I wish you’d seen Minnie Foster when she
wore a white dress with blue ribbons and stood up there in the choir
and sang. [_A look around the room._] Oh, I _wish_ I’d come over here
once in a while! That was a crime! That was a crime! Who’s going to
punish that?
MRS. PETERS
[_Looking upstairs._] We mustn’t--take on.
MRS. HALE
I might have known she needed help! I know how things can be--for
women. I tell you, it’s queer, Mrs. Peters. We live close together and
we live far apart. We all go through the same things--it’s all just
a different kind of the same thing. [_Brushes her eyes, noticing the
bottle of fruit, reaches out for it._] If I was you I wouldn’t tell
her her fruit was gone. Tell her it _ain’t_. Tell her it’s all right.
Take this in to prove it to her. She--she may never know whether it was
broke or not.
MRS. PETERS
[_Takes the bottle, looks about for something to wrap it in; takes
petticoat from the clothes brought from the other room, very nervously
begins winding this around the bottle. In a false voice._] My, it’s a
good thing the men couldn’t hear us. Wouldn’t they just laugh! Getting
all stirred up over a little thing like a--dead canary. As if that
could have anything to do with--with--wouldn’t they _laugh_!
[_The men are heard coming down stairs._
MRS. HALE
[_Under her breath._] Maybe they would--maybe they wouldn’t.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
No, Peters, it’s all perfectly clear except a reason for doing it. But
you know juries when it comes to women. If there was some definite
thing. Something to show--something to make a story about--a thing that
would connect up with this strange way of doing it--
[_The women’s eyes meet for an instant. Enter HALE from outer door._
HALE
Well, I’ve got the team around. Pretty cold out there.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
I’m going to stay here a while by myself. [_To the SHERIFF._] You can
send Frank out for me, can’t you? I want to go over everything. I’m not
satisfied that we can’t do better.
SHERIFF
Do you want to see what Mrs. Peters is going to take in?
[_The LAWYER goes to the table, picks up the apron, laughs._
COUNTY ATTORNEY
Oh, I guess they’re not very dangerous things the ladies have picked
out. [_Moves a few things about, disturbing the quilt pieces which
cover the box. Steps back._] No, Mrs. Peters doesn’t need supervising.
For that matter, a sheriff’s wife is married to the law. Ever think of
it that way, Mrs. Peters?
MRS. PETERS
Not--just that way.
SHERIFF
[_Chuckling._] Married to the law. [_Moves toward the other room._] I
just want you to come in here a minute, George. We ought to take a look
at these windows.
COUNTY ATTORNEY
[_Scoffingly._] Oh, windows!
SHERIFF
We’ll be right out, Mr. Hale.
[_HALE goes outside. The SHERIFF follows the COUNTY ATTORNEY into the
other room. Then MRS. HALE rises, hands tight together, looking
intensely at MRS. PETERS, whose eyes make a slow turn, finally
meeting MRS. HALE’S. A moment MRS. HALE holds her, then her own
eyes point the way to where the box is concealed. Suddenly MRS.
PETERS throws back quilt pieces and tries to put the box in the bag
she is wearing. It is too big. She opens box, starts to take bird
out, cannot touch it, goes to pieces, stands there helpless. Sound
of a knob turning in the other room. MRS. HALE snatches the box and
puts it in the pocket of her big coat. Enter COUNTY ATTORNEY and
SHERIFF._
COUNTY ATTORNEY
[_Facetiously._] Well, Henry, at least we found out that she was not
going to quilt it. She was going to--what is it you call it, ladies?
MRS. HALE
[_Her hand against her pocket._] We call it--knot it, Mr. Henderson.
(CURTAIN)
* * * * *
THE PEOPLE
A PLAY IN ONE ACT
* * * * *
First performed by the Provincetown Players, New York, March 9, 1917
ORIGINAL CAST
EDWARD WILLS, _Editor of_ “_The People_” GEORGE CRAM COOK
OSCAR TRIPP, _Associate Editor_ PENDLETON KING
THE ARTIST DONALD CORLEY
SARA NINA MOISE
TOM HOWE, _Printer_ LEWIS B. ELL
THE BOY _from Georgia_ LESLIE C. BEMIS
THE MAN _from the Cape_ IRA REMSEN
THE WOMAN _from Idaho_ SUSAN GLASPELL
THE EARNEST APPROACH LEW PARRISH
THE LIGHT TOUCH PIERRE LOVING
THE FIREBRAND HARRY KEMP
THE PHILOSOPHER HUTCHINSON COLLINS
THE PEOPLE
SCENE: _The office of “The People,” a morning in March, 1917. There is
little furniture--a long table strewn with manuscripts and papers, a
desk. On the walls are revolutionary posters; wads of paper are thrown
about on the floor--the office of a publication which is radical and
poor. This is an inner office; at the rear is the door into the outer
one. OSCAR is seated at the table writing. TOM, a printer who loves
the cause--or the crowd--almost enough to print for it, comes from the
other room, a galley-proof in his hand._
TOM
Why are you writing?
OSCAR
[_Jauntily._] Because I am a writer.
TOM
But I thought you said there wasn’t going to be another issue of _The
People_.
OSCAR
[_With dignity._] I am writing.
TOM
There’s a woman here with a suit case.
OSCAR
What’s in it?
TOM
She wants to see the Editor.
OSCAR
[_After writing._] All right.
[_TOM goes out and a moment later the woman appears. She is middle
aged, wears plain clothes not in fashion. Her manner is a little
shrinking and yet as she stands in the doorway looking about the
bare room, her face is the face of one who has come a long way and
reached a wonderful place._
THE WOMAN
This _is_ the office of _The People_?
OSCAR
Um-hum.
THE WOMAN
[_In a bated way._] I came to see the author of those wonderful words.
OSCAR
[_Rising._] Which wonderful words?
THE WOMAN
About moving toward the beautiful distances.
OSCAR
Oh. Those are Mr. Wills’ wonderful words.
[_Begins to write as one who has lost interest._
THE WOMAN
Could I see him?
OSCAR
He isn’t here yet. He’s just back from California. Won’t be at the
office till a little later.
THE WOMAN
[_With excitement._] He has been to California? He has just ridden
across this country?
OSCAR
Yes. Long trip. He was very cross over the ’phone.
THE WOMAN
Oh--no. I think you’re mistaken.
OSCAR
Anything you care to see me about?
THE WOMAN
[_After considering._] I could see him a little later, couldn’t I?
OSCAR
Yes, if its important. Of course he’ll be very busy.
THE WOMAN
It is important. At least--yes, it is important.
OSCAR
Very well then--later in the morning.
THE WOMAN
[_Thinking aloud._] I will stand down on the street and watch the
people go by.
OSCAR
What?
THE WOMAN
The people. It’s so wonderful to see them--so many of them. Don’t you
often just stand and watch them?
OSCAR
No, madam, not often. I am too busy editing a magazine about them.
THE WOMAN
Of course you are busy. You help edit this magazine?
[_Looks about at the posters._
OSCAR
I am associate editor of _The People_.
THE WOMAN
That’s a great thing for you--and you so young. Does Mr. Wills write in
this room?
OSCAR
That is his desk.
THE WOMAN
[_Looking at the desk._] It must be a wonderful thing for you to write
in the same room with him.
OSCAR
Well, I don’t know; perhaps it is a wonderful thing for him to--I am
Oscar Tripp, the poet.
THE WOMAN
[_Wistfully._] It would be beautiful to be a poet. [_Pause._] I will
come back later.
[_Picks up suit-case._
OSCAR
Just leave that if you aren’t going to be using it in the meantime.
THE WOMAN
[_Putting it down near the door._] Oh, thank you. I see you are a kind
young man.
OSCAR
That is not the general opinion.
THE WOMAN
I wonder why it is that the general opinion is so often wrong?
[_Stands considering it for a moment, then goes out._
OSCAR
I don’t quite understand that woman.
[_TOM comes back._
TOM
If this paper can’t go on, I ought to know it. I could get a job on
the _Evening World_. [_Oscar continues writing._] Can it go on?
OSCAR
I don’t see how it can, but many a time I haven’t seen how it
could--and it did. Doubtless it will go on, and will see days so much
worse than these that we will say, “Ah, the good old days of March,
1917.”
TOM
But can it pay salaries?
OSCAR
[_Shocked._] Oh, no, I think not; but we must work because we love our
work.
TOM
We must eat because we love our food.
OSCAR
You’ll know soon. There’s to be a meeting here this morning.
[_Enter SARA. TOM goes into the other room. SARA has the appearance
of a young business woman and the simple direct manner of a woman
who is ready to work for a thing she believes in._
SARA
Ed not here yet?
OSCAR
No.
SARA
Did he get any money?
OSCAR
Doesn’t look like it. He was snappish over the phone. Guess he’s for
giving it up this time.
SARA
I don’t want to give it up.
[_She takes a seat at the table where OSCAR is writing and unfolds a
manuscript she has brought with her._
OSCAR
Well, it’s not what we want, it’s what people want, and there aren’t
enough of them who want us.
SARA
The fault must lie with us.
OSCAR
I don’t think so. The fault lies with the failure to--
[_THE ARTIST has entered._
ARTIST
I’ll tell you where the fault lies. We should give more space to
pictures and less to stupid reading matter.
OSCAR
We have given too much expensive white paper to pictures and too little
to reading matter--especially to poetry. That’s where the fault lies.
[_Enter EDWARD WILLS, editor._
ED
I’ll tell you where the fault lies. [_Points first to THE ARTIST, then
to OSCAR._] Here! Just this! Everybody plugging for his own thing.
Nobody caring enough about the thing as a whole.
OSCAR
[_Rising._] I’ll tell you where the fault lies. [_Points to ED._] Here!
This. The Editor-in-chief returning from a long trip and the first
golden words that fall from his lips words of censure for his faithful
subordinates.
SARA
How are you Ed?
ED
Rotten. I hate sleeping cars. I always catch cold.
SARA
Any luck?
ED
[_His hand around his ear._] What’s the word?
[_Enter THE EARNEST APPROACH._
EARNEST APPROACH
I have heard that you may have to discontinue.
ED
[_Sitting down at his desk, beginning to look through his mail._] It
seems we might as well.
EARNEST APPROACH
Now just let me tell you what the trouble has been and how you can
remedy it. _The People_ has been afraid of being serious. But you deal
with ideas, and you must do it soberly. There is a place for a good
earnest journal of protest, but all this levity--this fooling--
[_Enter THE LIGHT TOUCH._
LIGHT TOUCH
Came in to see you, Ed, to say I hope the news I’m hearing isn’t true.
ED
If it’s bad, it’s true.
LIGHT TOUCH
Well, it’s an awful pity, but you’ve been too damn serious. A lighter
touch--that’s what _The People_ needs. You’re as heavy as mud. Try it
awhile longer along frivolous lines. I was in the building and just ran
in to let you have my idea of what’s the matter with you.
OSCAR
If we had as many subscribers as we have people to tell us what’s the
matter with us--
[_Enter PHILOSOPHER and FIREBRAND, TOM follows them in, a page of
manuscript in his hand._
ED
Now the Philosopher and the Firebrand will tell us what’s the matter
with us.
FIREBRAND
Too damn bourgeois! You should print on the cover of every issue--“To
hell with the bourgeoisie!” Pigs!
PHILOSOPHER
The trouble with this paper is efficiency.
[_This is too much for all of them. The PRINTER falls back against
the wall, then staggers from the room._
ED
Dear God! There are things it seems to me I can _not_ bear.
PHILOSOPHER
It should be more carelessly done, and then it would be more
perfectly done. You should be less definite, and you would have more
definiteness. You should not know what it is you want, and then you
would find what you are after.
OSCAR
You talk as if we had not been a success. But just last night I heard
of a woman in Bronxville who keeps _The People_ under her bed so her
husband won’t know she’s reading it.
FIREBRAND
If you had been a success you would have fired that woman with so great
a courage that she would proudly prop _The People_ on the pillow!
ARTIST
[_Who is sketching THE FIREBRAND._] It was my pictures got us under the
bed.
OSCAR
[_Haughtily._] I was definitely told it was my last “Talk with God” put
us under the bed.
FIREBRAND
Can you not see that she puts you under the bed because you yourselves
have made concessions to the bourgeoisie? Cows! Geese!
ARTIST
It must be more frivolous!
OSCAR
It must print more poetry.
[_They glare at one another._
EARNEST APPROACH
It should be more serious.
LIGHT TOUCH
It must be more frivolous!
[_Enter THE BOY from Georgia--dressed like a freshman with a good
allowance._
THE BOY
Is this the office of _The People_?
OSCAR
No, this is a lunatic asylum.
THE BOY
[_After a bewildered moment._] Oh, you’re joking. You know
[_Confidentially_], I wondered about that--whether you would joke here.
I thought you would. [_Stepping forward._] I came to see the Editor--I
want to tell him--
ED
So many people are telling me so many things, could you tell yours a
little later?
THE BOY
Oh, yes. Of course there must be many important things people have to
tell you.
ED
Well--many.
[_THE BOY goes out--reluctantly._
ARTIST
[_Who has all the time been glaring at OSCAR._] Speaking for the
artists, I want to say right now--
OSCAR
Speaking for the writers, I wish to say before we go further--
EARNEST APPROACH
A more serious approach--
LIGHT TOUCH
A lighter touch--
FIREBRAND
Speaking for myself--
PHILOSOPHER
Speaking for the truth--
[_Phone rings, OSCAR answers. Enter THE MAN from the Cape--slow,
heavy._
ED
You have come to tell us something about this paper?
THE MAN
Yes.
ED
There are a number ahead of you. Will you wait your turn? [_A look of
disappointment._] I’ll be glad to see you as soon as I can. There in
the outside office?
[_A moment THE MAN stands there, a mute ponderous figure, then very
slowly goes out._
OSCAR
[_Hanging up receiver._] Moritz Paper Company. Bill got to be paid
today. And here--
[_Takes from his drawer a huge packet of bills._
EARNEST APPROACH
You could pay your bills if you were not afraid to be serious!
LIGHT TOUCH
You could pay your bills if you were not afraid to be gay!
EARNEST APPROACH
[_From the door, solemnly._] A more earnest approach would save _The
People_.
LIGHT TOUCH
A lighter touch would turn the trick!
[_With that they leave._
FIREBRAND
[_Going over and pounding on THE EDITOR’S desk._] To hell with the
bourgeoisie! Apes!
PHILOSOPHER
Efficiency has put out the spark.
ED
Well, as long as the spark appears to be good and out, may I, in the
name of efficiency, ask you who do not belong here to retire, that we
may go ahead with our work?
PHILOSOPHER
There would be greater efficiency in our remaining. There would be
form. You have lacked form.
FIREBRAND
You have lacked courage! Donkeys!
ED
It would be illuminating, Leo, to hear you run through the animal
kingdom--toads, crocodiles, a number of things you haven’t mentioned
yet, but the animal kingdom is large--and we have work to do.
PHILOSOPHER
You lack form in your work. By form I do not mean what you think I
mean. I mean that particular significance of the insignificant which is
the fundamental--
ED
We couldn’t understand it. Why tell us?
PHILOSOPHER
No. You couldn’t understand it.
[_He leaves them to their fate._
FIREBRAND
Rest in peace. [_Gesture of benediction. Then hissingly._] Centipedes!
[_He goes--leaving a laugh behind him._
ED
What’s the matter with us is our friends.
SARA
[_Quietly._] Well, to be or not to be. I guess it’s up to you, Ed.
ED
Just what would we be going on for? To make a few more people like
the dear ones who have just left us? Seems to me we could best serve
society by not doing that. Precisely what do we do?--aside from getting
under the bed in Bronxville. Now and then something particularly rotten
is put over and we have a story that gets a rise out of a few people,
but--we don’t change anything.
SARA
We had another hope. We were going to express ourselves so simply and
so truly that we would be expressing the people.
ED
[_Wearily._] The People. I looked at them all the way across this
continent. Oh, I got so tired looking at them--on farms, in towns, in
cities. They’re like toys that you wind up and they’ll run awhile. They
don’t want to be expressed. It would topple them over. The longer I
looked the more ridiculous it seemed to me that we should be giving our
lives to--[_Picks up the magazine and reads._] _The People_--“A Journal
of the Social Revolution.” Certainly we’d better cut the sub-title. The
social revolution is dead.
OSCAR
You don’t think you are bringing back any news, do you, Ed?
ARTIST
[_Taking up magazine._] Instead of a sub-title we could have a design.
Much better.
[_Glares at OSCAR, then begins to draw._
SARA
This is a long way from what you felt a year ago, Ed. You had vision
then.
ED
You can’t keep vision in this office. It’s easy enough to have a
beautiful feeling about the human race when none of it is around. The
trouble about doing anything for your fellow-man is that you have to do
it with a few of them. Oh, of course that isn’t fair. We care. I’ll say
that for us. Even Oscar cares, or he wouldn’t work the way he has. But
what does our caring come to? It doesn’t connect up with anything, and
God knows it doesn’t seem to be making anything very beautiful of us.
There’s something rather pathetic about us.
OSCAR
Or is it merely ridiculous?
SARA
Let me read you something, Ed. [_She takes The People and reads very
simply._] “We are living now. We shall not be living long. No one can
tell us we shall live again. This is our little while. This is our
chance. And we take it like a child who comes from a dark room to which
he must return--comes for one sunny afternoon to a lovely hillside, and
finding a hole, crawls in there till after the sun is set. I want that
child to know the sun is shining upon flowers in the grass. I want him
to know it before he has to go back to the room that is dark. I wish I
had pipes to call him to the hilltop of beautiful distances. I myself
could see farther if he were seeing at all. Perhaps I can tell _you_:
you who have dreamed and dreaming know, and knowing care. Move! Move
from the things that hold you. If you move, others will move. Come!
Now. Before the sun goes down.” [_Very quietly._] You wrote that, Ed.
ED
Yes, I wrote it; and do you want to know why I wrote it? I wrote it
because I was sore at Oscar and wanted to write something to make him
feel ashamed of himself.
[_While SARA is reading, THE WOMAN has appeared at the door, has
moved a few steps into the room as if drawn by the words she is
hearing. Behind her are seen THE BOY from Georgia, THE MAN from the
Cape._
THE WOMAN
[_Moving forward._] I don’t believe that’s true! I don’t believe that’s
true! Maybe you think that’s why you wrote it, but it’s not the reason.
You wrote it because it’s the living truth, and it moved in you and you
had to say it.
ED
[_Rising._] Who are you?
THE WOMAN
I am one of the people. I have lived a long way off. I heard that call
and--I had to come.
THE BOY
[_Blithely._] I’ve come too. I’m from Georgia. I read it, and I didn’t
want to stay at school any longer. I said, “I want something different
and bigger--something more like this.” I heard about your not being
able to sell your paper on the newsstands just because lots of people
don’t want anything different and bigger, and I said to myself, “I’ll
sell the paper! I’ll go and sell it on the streets!” And I got so
excited about it that I didn’t even wait for the dance. There was a
dance that night, and I had my girl too.
THE WOMAN
He didn’t even wait for the dance.
OSCAR
The idealists are calling upon the intellectuals, and “calling” them.
ED
[_To THE MAN._] And what did you leave, my friend?
THE MAN
[_Heavily._] My oyster bed. I’m from the Cape. I had a chance to go in
on an oyster bed. I read what you wrote--a woman who had stopped in an
automobile left it, and I said to myself, “I’m nothing but an oyster
myself. Guess I’ll come to life.”
ED
But--what did you come here for?
THE MAN
Well--for the rest of it.
ED
The rest of what?
THE MAN
The rest of what you’ve got.
THE BOY
Yes--that’s it; we’ve come for the rest of what you’ve got.
OSCAR
This is awkward for Ed.
THE WOMAN
Give it to us.
ED
What?
THE WOMAN
The rest of it.
ED
[_An instant’s pause._] I haven’t got anything more to give.
THE BOY
But you made us think you had. You led us to believe you had.
THE WOMAN
And you have. If you hadn’t more to give, you couldn’t have given that.
OSCAR
Very awkward.
THE WOMAN
You said--“I call to _you_. You who have dreamed, and dreaming know,
and knowing care.” Well, three of us are here. From the South and the
East and the West we’ve come because you made us want something we
didn’t have, made us want it so much we had to move the way we thought
was toward it--before the sun goes down.
THE BOY
We thought people here had life--something different and bigger.
OSCAR
Perhaps we’d better go. Poor Ed.
ED
I wish you’d shut up, Oscar.
THE WOMAN
I know you will give it to us.
ED
Give _what_ to you?
THE WOMAN
What you have for the people. [_OSCAR coughs._] What you made us know
we need.
OSCAR
You shouldn’t have called personally. You should have sent in your
needs by mail.
ED
Oscar, try and act as if you had a soul.
THE WOMAN
I think he really has. [_A look at OSCAR--then, warmly._] At least he
has a heart. It’s only that he feels he must be witty. But you--you’re
not going to let us just go away again, are you? He gave up his oyster
bed, and this boy didn’t even wait for the dance, and me--I gave up my
tombstone.
ED
Your--?
THE WOMAN
Yes--tombstone. It had always been a saying in our family--“He won’t
even have a stone to mark his grave.” They said it so much that I
thought it meant something. I sew--plain sewing, but I’ve often said to
myself--“Well, at least I’ll have a stone to mark my grave.” And then,
there was a man who had been making speeches to the miners--I live in a
town in Idaho--and he had your magazine, and he left it in the store,
and the storekeeper said to me, when I went there for thread--“Here,
you like to read. Don’t you want this? I wish you’d take it away,
because if some folks in this town see it, they’ll think I’m not all I
should be.” He meant the cover.
ARTIST
[_Brightening._] That was my cover.
THE WOMAN
[_After a smile at THE ARTIST._] So I took it home, and when my work
was done that night, I read your wonderful words. They’re like a
spring--if you’ve lived in a dry country, you’ll know what I mean. And
they made me know that my tombstone was as dead as--well, [_With a
little laugh_] as dead as a tombstone. So I had to have something to
take its place.
SARA
[_Rising and going to THE WOMAN._] Talk to him. Tell him about it.
Come, Oscar!
THE BOY
As long as there seems to be so much uncertainty about this, perhaps
I’d better telegraph father. You see, the folks don’t know where I am.
I just came.
THE WOMAN
He didn’t even stay for the dance.
THE BOY
I’ll be glad to sell the papers. [_Seeing a pile of them on the
table._] Here, shall I take these?--and I’ll stop people on the street
and tell _why_ I’m selling them.
OSCAR
No, you can’t do that. You’d be arrested.
THE WOMAN
Let him sell them. What’s the difference about the law, if you have the
right idea?
OSCAR
The right idea has given us trouble enough already.
THE MAN
There’s something sure about an oyster bed.
OSCAR
You come with me and have a drink. Something sure about that too.
THE WOMAN
He could have had a drink at home.
SARA
[_To ARTIST._] Coming, Joe? [_To THE BOY._] It was corking of you to
want to help us. We must talk about--