world and in the home, most everybody, through lack of a little
precaution, makes a fool of himself or herself once or twice in a
life.
BESS
(_Suavely_)
I thought the average was higher; didn’t you, Mr. Hood?
LIVINGSTON
Perhaps the nasty messy mangling is. I’m not sure of the
mortalities. You see, Mr. Hood--if you are interested?
HOOD
(_With a start_)
Very.
LIVINGSTON
What I mean is that people cut off a useful hand or
limb--metaphorically, of course--because they go a little too near
the machinery: the machinery of what we call the hard facts of life.
HOOD
And what was your exhibit intended for?
LIVINGSTON
(_Pointedly_)
To have them read the danger signs _first_. It was my plan to
indicate how signs should be put up over terrain places, like
stores and homes and....
BESS
(_Calmly_)
How interesting. What sort of signs were they to be, dear?
HOOD
“Don’t Handle,” “Watch Your Step.” You know the sort. You see,
I have a theory that if these signs were placed about in enough
places people would soon grow accustomed to carrying them in their
mind’s eye, as it were. (_Pointedly_) Do you get my meaning?
BESS
But, dear; there are so many signs now. Look at these about here
for instance. I’m sure people would never get anything out of these
by carrying them about in their heads.
LIVINGSTON
It’s merely a matter of how much intelligence and imagination you
bring to signs--otherwise they are only words.
(_As_ LIVINGSTON _crosses to read sign under the_ BRONTOSAURUS,
HOOD _makes a movement as though to speak, but_ BESS, _who has
sat on the bench, stops him with an imploring gesture_.)
Um--highly suggestive, this. (_Reading_) “Great Amphibious Dinosaur
Brontosaurus ... Jurassic Period ... Donated by James Morrow....
The Brontosaurus lived several million years ago....” You see
(_To them_) James Morrow and the animal have clasped hands over
the centuries. Um. From this sign, can’t you picture the love and
devotion to science that prompted such a gift?
HOOD
(_Now smiling for the first time_)
As it happens he didn’t even know what his money was for. While I
was waiting here I heard Mrs. Morrow say.... (_He stops short as_
LIVINGSTON _gives him a sharp look_.)
BESS
(_Quickly_)
You see, dear, you were mistaken in that sign.
LIVINGSTON
(_Casually_)
Perhaps. Curious though how much information a man picks up while
he _waits_ about. (_He crosses over to the case opposite._) I
wonder what this one will reveal.
(HOOD _sees he has been caught in a slip. It spurs him into a
mood of retaliation. He overcomes a momentary hesitation and
then shows he resolves to tell_ LIVINGSTON _everything_.)
HOOD
(_With hoarse nervous intensity_)
Mr. Livingston!
BESS
(_Under her breath to him_)
Bob!
LIVINGSTON
(_Not turning_)
Yes?
(_For a second_ HOOD _is about to speak, but he is halted by_
BESS’S _look and voices, as the_ PROFESSOR, _followed by_
LARRY ANDERSON, _enters_.
LARRY _is a fine strapping doughboy in his uniform, on which
are two gold service stripes and several decorations for
bravery. His hand is bandaged. They come down._
_As_ LIVINGSTON _gives no indication of leaving_, BESS _still
sits there while_ HOOD _keeps his eyes on her husband’s back.
His silence holds them there._)
PROFESSOR
But I was expecting at least two hundred.
LARRY
They got lost on the way.
PROFESSOR
Lost?
LARRY
Yes. I left them at the Follies. But I’d heard my uncle speak of
this place.
PROFESSOR
(_Brightens_)
Is your uncle interested in fossils?
LARRY
Yes. He’s a queer bug. He told me to be sure and not miss the
Chamber of Horrors. You know, where all the Kings and Queens and
statesmen are embalmed in wax?
PROFESSOR
But, my dear friend, they tore down the Eden Musée several years
ago.
LARRY
They did? Why didn’t they wait till I got back? Haven’t you any
Chamber of Horrors here?
PROFESSOR
No; this is the Paleontological section.
LARRY
(_Looking about_)
Well, now that I’m here maybe this will do as well.
(LIVINGSTON _now turns, leaning against the case, much
interested in the two men. As he shows no intention of
moving_, BESS _sits there, twisting her handkerchief
nervously in her hand_. HOOD _is embarrassed and undecided_.)
Trot ’em out, so I can tell uncle I’ve seen ’em.
PROFESSOR
(_Pointing to_ BRONTOSAURUS)
This is a major Dinosaur.
LARRY
Major what?
PROFESSOR
The more popular name is the Brontosaurus.
LARRY
Is that so? (_Looking at it._) Some bird!
PROFESSOR
It’s a reptile: its name means Thunder Lizard because its mighty
tread shook the earth.
LARRY
Where did it grow?
PROFESSOR
From other bones we have found I should say it roamed all over the
world. This specimen was dug up in Wyoming.
LARRY
What was it doing in Wyoming?
PROFESSOR
(_On his dignity_)
It was possibly overtaken there by an earthquake.
LARRY
Must have been some earthquake.
PROFESSOR
Since it was thus buried in silica away from the decomposing air
and moisture, it was preserved for centuries--till we happened to
discover it with a pick.
LARRY
You don’t say so! (_He looks at it a bit awed._) When we were
digging trenches in No Man’s Land we used to find....
PROFESSOR
What?
LARRY
Not that sort of bones.
PROFESSOR
This was in an excellent state of preservation. It is sixty feet
long and must have weighed when alive forty tons. It took seven
years to dig it out and mount it. We had to be very careful not to
break its marvelous tail. If you’ll walk to the other end you’ll
get an idea of its length. We found ninety-seven perfect vertebræ.
LARRY
Ninety-seven? You don’t say so?
PROFESSOR
You can count them and see.
LARRY
Ninety-seven what you call ’ems! Think of that. (_As he goes up._)
And you say it came from Wyoming?
PROFESSOR
Yes.
LARRY
(_Proudly_)
That’s my state, too.
(LARRY _wanders off out of sight looking at the fossil. As
the_ PROFESSOR _starts to follow_, LIVINGSTON, _who has been
watching his wife and_ HOOD, _stops him_.)
LIVINGSTON
I beg your pardon. I hope you won’t mind our being interested
in what you were saying; but we were wondering about the animal
ourselves.
(HOOD _looks at_ BESS _quickly not knowing what_ LIVINGSTON
_is driving at_.)
PROFESSOR
(_Brightening_)
Indeed? I’m afraid our young friend is a bit irreverent.
LIVINGSTON
May I ask what is known of its domestic habits?
PROFESSOR
It was hardly a domestic animal. Its family life probably extended
only during the infancy of its young.
LIVINGSTON
Was this a female, by chance?
PROFESSOR
Yes: the large pelvic development....
LIVINGSTON
This one undoubtedly had young, too?
PROFESSOR
Of course. But we have never found any of its eggs. It was a
reptile, you know.
LIVINGSTON
But while they were dependent it undoubtedly fought to protect its
young--like other animals?
PROFESSOR
With very few exceptions all the female animals at least do that;
even those of low intelligence.
LIVINGSTON
This one couldn’t by any chance have been wooed away from that
obligation by romantic notions?
PROFESSOR
(_Suspiciously_)
This--romantic?
LIVINGSTON
But you said it roamed in search of adventure?
PROFESSOR
(_A bit on his dignity_)
Romance lies in the field of the emotions: I am a scientist.
LIVINGSTON
What I mean is: was she faithful to one or promiscuous?
PROFESSOR
(_Embarrassed_)
Undoubtedly promiscuous.
LIVINGSTON
Of course.--You see, Bess, the lady existed before man made his
conventions.
PROFESSOR
Yes. She could follow all her natural instincts.
LIVINGSTON
Which were?
PROFESSOR
Food and fighting. You will observe her large maw and small brain.
Her main weapon of defense was her long powerfully muscled tail.
From the teeth, we deduce she was mainly herbivorous.
LIVINGSTON
What did she feed on?
PROFESSOR
Everything she could pick up.
LIVINGSTON
(_Significantly_)
Think of that, Hood--“everything she could pick up.”
PROFESSOR
Young weeds, tender grass and the like.
LIVINGSTON
Young weeds--ah, yes, of course. Yet in spite of her diet, there is
something quite impressive about dead things, isn’t there?
PROFESSOR
(_Eyeing it_)
They have a dynamic power.
LIVINGSTON
Exactly. You see, Mr. Hood, a dead tree, that has in its time given
shelter and substance, fights to be left standing. It resists the
alien ax. Its roots go as deep as when they flowed with sap. They
also fight to prevent themselves from being torn up. They don’t
like to be disturbed--any more than this animal did in its cold
clayey comfort. (_To_ PROFESSOR) You say it took seven years?
PROFESSOR
(_Not understanding_)
Yes. We were afraid of hurting it if we were careless.
LIVINGSTON
You were right to be careful: one shouldn’t hurt the dead. What is
its scientific significance?
PROFESSOR
Nothing but a further proof of the slow processes of evolution.
LIVINGSTON
(_With a smile_)
I am a utilitarian. I see another significance. Possibly she was
dug up, a thousand centuries after she died, just to give _you_ an
occupation.
PROFESSOR
I can’t accept that as a working hypothesis.
LIVINGSTON
Just think, Hood. Several million years dead! There it stands for
man to look upon! Possibly that was _why_ it existed, after all:
for us _three_ to look upon. (_He glances pointedly at them._)
Mr. Hood is thinking of introducing a bill in the Legislature to
increase the wings of the Museum.
PROFESSOR
That’s very kind of him. We have many boxes still unpacked in the
cellar for lack of room. But, unfortunately, this museum is under
the control of the city, not the state.
LIVINGSTON
(_Smiling at_ HOOD)
Indeed?
BESS
(_Rising impatiently_)
It’s getting late.
LARRY
(_Re-entering_)
I only counted sixty-three.
PROFESSOR
(_Emphatically_)
But there are ninety-seven.
LARRY
All right. I won’t argue it.
PROFESSOR
If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you the Tyrannosaurus. They were
carnivorous and the greatest fighters of them all.
LARRY
Say, this is a fine place to be showing a fellow who’s just back
from France.
BESS
(_Sweetly_)
Young man, I’d like to shake your hand. I see you have all sorts of
lovely decorations. May I ask how you got them?
LARRY
(_Embarrassed_)
Oh, I was careless and they pinned a rose on me by mistake.
BESS
You must be very proud of them?
LARRY
Sure I am. (_Looking at the_ BRONTOSAURUS.) But that lizard kinder
takes the pride out of a fellow.
BESS
But _I_ admire bravery--whenever I see it. I’d like to hear about
how you really got those decorations.
LARRY
Would you?
(_The gong in the distance rings._)
PROFESSOR
(_In back_)
If you want to see the Tyrannosaurus before we close....
LARRY
Oh, all right. (_To others_) Gee, I’ll be glad to get out among the
live ones.
BESS
(_Smiling at him_)
So will I.
LIVINGSTON
(_Coldly_)
You should have gone to the Follies, young man.
LARRY
Oh, I might have sprained an ankle going to my seat.
(_He goes out after the_ PROFESSOR _as_ BESS _looks after
him_. SARAH _comes in back and then goes off. The rear of
room darkens, indicating she has pulled the curtain up._
LIVINGSTON _glances at_ HOOD _who is gazing at_ BESS _with a
strange enlightenment_.)
LIVINGSTON
I think you’re right, Bess: we’d better be going. We might stop and
take the children for a spin before it’s dark.
BESS
Yes.
LIVINGSTON
(_To_ HOOD)
Are you going _our_ way?
HOOD
No.
BESS
You’re sure we can’t drop you somewhere?
HOOD
No. Thank you.
LIVINGSTON
I’m delighted to have met you, Mr. Hood. (_Shaking hands._) I shall
follow your work in the Legislature with great interest.
HOOD
Perhaps I may be able to help you with _your_ museum.
LIVINGSTON
Just talking to you has encouraged me greatly. Good-bye. There is
a big political future waiting a young man these days--if he keeps
his head.
BESS
(_Shaking his hand_)
I’m sure my husband is right.
HOOD
(_Looking at her_)
So am I. Quite sure.
(_She turns away, as she sees what his tone of finality
implies, and looks up at the_ BRONTOSAURUS _with a start_.)
LIVINGSTON
What is it, dear?
BESS
Nothing. Only it seems to be smiling at us.
LIVINGSTON
All skulls grin: it’s the eternal laughter of the dead.
BESS
Come. (_As she starts._) Dear, don’t you think it might be a good
idea to rescue that fine strong good-looking young soldier? He must
be so lonely and we might take him for a drive.
LIVINGSTON
(_A bit wearily at what he sees ahead_)
Oh, yes; if you wish. But I’m sure he should have gone to the
Follies.
(_He offers her his arm--she takes it._ HOOD _watches them as
they walk out without turning back. He stands there a moment,
with a cynical smile creeping over his lips. He throws the
catalogue on the seat. Then he goes to the sign before the_
BRONTOSAURUS.)
HOOD
(_Reading and thinking_)
“Mainly Herbivorous.” “Anything she can pick up.” “Several million
years”....
(_As he gazes there_, SARAH _enters and goes out to pull
up the other curtain. She apparently does so for some red
rays slowly gather about the fossil. The room is darker. She
re-enters and stands there looking at him._ HOOD _gives a
sigh of relief, and determination: he puts on his hat, and,
with hands in his pockets, goes off whistling_.
SARAH _stands there as the room darkens. Then she goes over
near the seat and begins to mop._)
SARAH
Moppin’ and scrubbin’ ... moppin’....
(_She pauses and gives a glance at the_ BRONTOSAURUS _on
whose skull are now centered the rays of the setting sun_.)
Holy Mother of Saints! What are you grinnin’ at, ye dirty heathen?
(_She lifts her arm again in revolt as though to throw the
mop at it. Then she puts it down with a sense of futility.
She picks up her things and goes off slowly._
_The place is now dark save for the faint light on the skull;
and even that fades after a little while._)
[CURTAIN]
[B] Copyright by George Middleton. See back of title page.
TIDES
THE PEOPLE
WILLIAM WHITE, _a famous Internationalist_.
HILDA, _his wife_.
WALLACE, _their son_.
SCENE
_At the Whites; spring, 1917._
TIDES[C]
_A simply furnished study. The walls are lined with bookshelves,
indicating, by their improvised quality, that they have been
increased as occasion demanded. On these are stacked, in addition
to the books themselves, many files of papers, magazines and
“reports.” The large work-table, upon which rests a double student
lamp and a telephone, is conspicuous. A leather couch with pillows
is opposite, pointing towards a doorway which leads into the
living-room. There is also a doorway in back, which apparently
opens on the hallway beyond. The room is comfortable in spite of
its general disorder: it is essentially the work-shop of a busy man
of public affairs. The strong sunlight of a spring day comes in
through the window, flooding the table._
WILLIAM WHITE _is standing by the window, smoking a pipe. He is
about fifty, of striking appearance: the visual incarnation of
the popular conception of a leader of men. There is authority
and strength in the lines of his face; his whole personality is
commanding; his voice has all the modulations of a well-trained
orator; his gestures are sweeping--for, even in private
conversation, he is habitually conscious of an audience.
Otherwise, he is simple and engaging, with some indication of his
humble origin._
_On the sofa opposite, with a letter in her hand_, HILDA WHITE,
_his wife, is seated. She is somewhat younger in fact, though in
appearance she is as one who has been worn a bit by the struggle
of many years. Her manner contrasts with her husband’s: her
inheritance of delicate refinement is ever present in her soft
voice and gentle gesture. Yet she, too, suggests strength--the sort
which will endure all for a fixed intention._
_It is obvious throughout that she and her husband have been happy
comrades in their life together and that a deep fundamental bond
has united them in spite of the different social spheres from which
each has sprung._
WHITE
(_Seeing she has paused_)
Go on, dear; go on. Let’s hear all of it.
HILDA
Oh, what’s the use, Will? You know how differently he feels about
the war.
WHITE
(_With quiet sarcasm_)
But it’s been so many years since your respectable brother has
honored me even with the slightest allusion....
HILDA
If you care for what he says--(_Continuing to read the
letter_)--“Remember, Hilda, you are an American. I don’t suppose
your husband considers that an honor; but I do.”
WHITE
(_Interrupting_)
And what kind of an American has he been in times of peace? He’s
wrung forty per cent profit out of his factory and fought every
effort of the workers to organize. Ah, these smug hypocrites!
HILDA
(_Reading_)
“His violent opposition to America going in has been disgrace
enough----”
WHITE
But his war profits were all right. Oh, yes.
HILDA
Let me finish, dear, since you want it. (_Reading_) “--been
disgrace enough. But now that we’re in, I’m writing in the faint
hope, if you are not too much under his influence, that you will
persuade him to keep his mouth shut. This country will tolerate no
difference of opinion now. You radicals had better get on board the
band wagon. It’s prison or acceptance.” (_She stops reading._) He’s
right, dear. There will be nothing more intolerant than a so-called
democracy at war.
WHITE
By God! It’s superb! Silence for twenty years and now he writes his
poor misguided sister for fear she will be further disgraced by her
radical husband.
HILDA
We mustn’t descend to his bitterness.
WHITE
No: I suppose I should resuscitate the forgotten doctrine of
forgiving my enemies.
HILDA
He’s not your enemy; he merely looks at it all differently.
WHITE
I was thinking of his calm contempt for me these twenty years--ever
since you married me--“out of your class,” as he called it.
HILDA
Oh, hush, Will. I’ve been so happy with you I can bear him no ill
will. Besides, doesn’t his attitude seem natural? You mustn’t
forget that no man in this country has fought his class more than
you. That hurts--especially coming from an _acquired_ relative.
WHITE
Yes; that aggravates the offense. And I’ll tell you something you
may not know: (_Bitterly_) Whenever I’ve spoken against privilege
and wealth it’s been his pudgy, comfortable face I’ve shaken my
fist at. He’s been so damned comfortable all his life.
HILDA
(_She looks at him in surprise_)
Why, Will, you surely don’t envy him his comfort, do you? I can’t
make you out. What’s come over you these last weeks? You’ve always
been above such personal bitterness; even when you were most
condemned and ridiculed. If it were anybody but you I’d think you
had done something you were ashamed of.
WHITE
What do you mean?
HILDA
Haven’t you sometimes noticed that is what bitterness to another
means: a failure within oneself? (_He goes over to chair and
sits without answering._) I can think of you beaten by outside
things--that sort of failure we all meet; but somehow I can
never think of you failing yourself. You’ve been so brave and
self-reliant: you’ve fought so hard for the truth.
WHITE
(_Tapping letter_)
But he thinks _he_ knows the truth, too.
HILDA
He’s also an intense nature.
WHITE
(_Thoughtfully after a pause_)
Yet there is _some_ truth in what he says.
HILDA
(_Smiling_)
But you didn’t like it--coming from him?
WHITE
It will be different with you and me now that America’s gone in.
HILDA
Yes. It will be harder for us here; for hate is always furthest
from the trenches. But you and I are not the sort who would
compromise to escape the persecution which is the resource of the
non-combatant.
(_The phone rings: he looks at his watch._)
WHITE
That’s for me.
HILDA
Let me. (_She goes._) It may be Wallace. (_At phone._) Yes: this
is 116 Chelsea. Long Distance? (_He starts as she says to him_) It
must be our boy. (_At phone._) Who? Oh--_Mr._ William White? Yes:
he’ll be here. (_She hangs up receiver._) She’ll ring when she gets
the connection through.
WHITE
(_Turning away_)
It takes so long these days.
HILDA
Funny he didn’t ask for me.
WHITE
What made you think it was Wallace?
HILDA
I took it for granted. He must be having a hard time at college
with all the boys full of war fever.
WHITE
And a father with my record.
HILDA
He should be proud of the example. He has more than other boys to
cling to these days when everybody is losing his head as the band
plays and the flag is waved. He won’t be carried away by it. He’ll
remember all we taught him. Ah, Will, when I think we now have
conscription--as they have in Germany--I thank God every night our
boy is too young for the draft.
WHITE
But when his time comes what will he do?
HILDA
(_Calmly_)
He will do it with courage.
WHITE
(_Referring to her brother’s letter_)
Either prison or acceptance!
HILDA
I would rather have my son in prison than have him do what he felt
was wrong. Wouldn’t you?
WHITE
(_Evasively_)
We won’t have to face that problem for two years.
HILDA
And when it comes--if he falters--I’ll give him these notes of that
wonderful speech you made at the International Conference in 1910.
(_Picking it up._) I was looking through it only this morning.
WHITE
(_Troubled_)
Oh, that speech.
HILDA
(_Glancing through it with enthusiasm_)
“All wars are imperialistic in origin. Do away with overseas
investments, trade routes, private control of ammunition factories,
secret diplomacy....”
WHITE
Don’t you see that’s all dead wood?
HILDA
(_Not heeding him_)
This part gave me new strength when I thought of Wallace.
(_Reading with eloquence._) “War will stop when young men put
Internationalism above Nationality, the law of God above the
dictates of statesmen, the law of love above the law of hate, the
law of self-sacrifice above the law of profit. There must be no
boundaries in man’s thought. Let the young men of the world once
throw down their arms, let them once refuse to point their guns at
human hearts, and all the boundaries of the world will melt away
and peace will find a resting-place in the hearts of men!”
WHITE
(_Taking it from her_)
And I made you believe it! What silly prophets we radicals were.
(_He tears it up._) Mere scraps of paper, dear; scraps of paper,
now.
HILDA
But it was the truth; it still _is_ the truth.
WHITE
Hilda, there’s something I want to talk over very very seriously
with you. I’ve been putting it off.
HILDA
Yes, dear? (_The outer door is heard to bang._) Listen: wasn’t that
the front door?
WHITE
Perhaps it’s the maid?
HILDA
(_A bit nervously_)
No: she’s upstairs. No one rang. Please see.
WHITE
(_Smiling_)
Now don’t worry! It can’t possibly be the Secret Service.
HILDA
One never knows in war times what to expect. I sometimes feel I am
in a foreign country.
(WHITE _goes slowly to the door in back and opens it_.
WALLACE, _their son, with valise in hand, is standing there,
as though he had hesitated to enter_.
_He is a fine clean-cut young fellow, with his father’s
physical endowment and his mother’s spiritual intensity. The
essential note he strikes is that of honesty. It is apparent
he is under the pressure of a momentous decision which has
brought him unexpectedly home from college._)
WHITE
Wallace!
WALLACE
(_Shaking hands_)
Hello! Dad.
HILDA
Wallace! My boy!
(WALLACE _drops valise and goes to his mother’s arms_.)
WALLACE
(_With deep feeling_)
Mother!
WHITE
(_After a pause_)
Well, boy; this is unexpected. We were just talking of you.
WALLACE
Were you?
HILDA
I’m so glad to see you, so glad.
WALLACE
Yes ... yes ... but....
WHITE
There’s nothing the matter?
HILDA
You’ve had trouble at college?
WALLACE
Not exactly. But I couldn’t stand it there. I’ve left--for good.
WHITE
I was sure that would happen.
HILDA
Tell us. You know we’ll understand.
WALLACE
Dad, if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk it over with mother first.
WHITE
Of course, old fellow, that’s right. She’ll stand by you just as
she’s always stood by me--all these years. (_He kisses her._) I ...
I....
(_He smooths her hair gently, looking into her eyes as she
smiles up at him._)
We mustn’t let this war hurt all we’ve had together--you and I----
HILDA
(_Smiling and turning towards her son_)
And Wallace.
WHITE
And Wallace. Yes. (WALLACE _looks away guiltily_.) Let me know when
the phone comes.
(_He goes out hastily. She closes the door after him and
then comes to_ WALLACE, _who has sat down, indicating he is
troubled_.)
HILDA
They made it hard for you at college?
WALLACE
I don’t know how to tell you.
HILDA