billboards advertising the glory of war, the call of adventure
offered to youth, the pressure of your friends--all made it hard
for you to be called a slacker.
WALLACE
No, mother. I wasn’t afraid of what they could call me. That was
easy.
HILDA
(_Proudly_)
You are your father’s son!
WALLACE
Mother, I can’t stand the thought of killing, you know that. And I
couldn’t forget all you’ve told me. That’s why I’ve had to think
this out all these months alone; why I’ve hesitated longer than
most fellows. The only thing I was really afraid of was being
wrong. But now I know I’m right and I’m going clean through to the
limit.
HILDA
As your father said I’ll stand by you--whatever it is--if only you
feel it’s right.
WALLACE
Will you? Will you, mother? No matter what happens? (_She nods._)
I knew you would. (_Taking her hand._) Then mother, listen. I’ve
volunteered.
HILDA
(_Shocked_)
Volunteered!
WALLACE
Yes. I leave for training-camp to-night.
HILDA
To-night?
WALLACE
Yes, mother. Once I made up my mind I couldn’t wait to be drafted.
I wanted to offer myself. I didn’t want to be made to go.
HILDA
(_Hardly grasping it_)
But you are too young.
WALLACE
I lied about my age. You and father can stop me if you tell the
truth. That’s why I’ve come back. I want you to promise you won’t
tell.
HILDA
_You_ ask me to aid you in what I don’t believe?
WALLACE
But you said you’d stick by me if _I_ thought it was right.
HILDA
But....
WALLACE
(_With fervor_)
And I tell you, mother, I do feel it was right for America to go
in. I see now we ought to have declared war when they crushed
Belgium. Yes; we ought to have gone in when the Lusitania was sunk.
But we’ve been patient. The President tried to keep us out of it
until we _had_ to go in to save our self-respect. We had to go in
to show we were men of honor, not pussy cats. We had to go in to
show the world the Stars and Stripes wasn’t a dishrag on which the
Germans could dry their bloody hands!
HILDA
(_Gazing at him incredulously_)
You hate them as much as that?
WALLACE
Hate? No, mother, no. (_As though questioning himself._) I really
haven’t any hate for the German _people_. People are just people
everywhere, I suppose, and they’re tricked and fooled by their
rotten government, as the President says.
HILDA
Then why fight them?
WALLACE
Because they’re standing back of their government, doing what it
says. And they’ve got to be licked to show them what kind of a
government they have.
HILDA
At least you have no hate in your heart--that’s something.
WALLACE
Oh, yes, I have, mother. But it isn’t for the poor devils I’ve got
to shoot. It’s for the stay-at-home fellow here in America who sits
in a comfortable armchair, who applauds patriotic sentiment, cheers
the flag and does nothing for his country but hate and hate--while
we fight for him. That’s the fellow I’ll hate all right when I sit
in the trenches. And that’s why I couldn’t look myself in the face
if I stayed out a day longer; why, I’ve got to go in; why, I’m
going to die if I must, because _everybody_ ought to be willing to
die for what he believes.
HILDA
You are my son, _too_! For I would willingly have died if it could
have kept us out of this war.
WALLACE
Yes. I am your son, too. And that’s why you wouldn’t respect me if
I didn’t go through.
HILDA
No. I wouldn’t have respected you. But ... but.... (_She breaks
a bit, then controls herself._) You are quite sure you’re doing
what’s right?
WALLACE
(_Tenderly_)
Would I have been willing to hurt you like this?
HILDA
(_Holding him close to her_)
My boy; my boy!
WALLACE
It’ll be all right, mother.
HILDA
Ah, yes. It will be all right. Nothing matters in time: it’s only
the moments that hurt.
WALLACE
(_After a pause_)
Then you won’t tell my real age, or interfere?
HILDA
I respect your right to decide your own life.
WALLACE
(_Joyed_)
Mother!
HILDA
I respect your dedication; your willingness to sacrifice for your
beliefs. Why, Wallace, it would be a crime for me to stand in your
way--even with my mother’s love. (_He kisses her._) Do it all as
cleanly as you can. I’ll hope and pray that you’ll come back to
me. (_Half breaking down and taking him in her arms._) Oh, my boy;
my boy. Let me hold you. You’ll never know how hard it is for a
mother.
WALLACE
(_Gently_)
But other mothers send their boys.
HILDA
Most of them believe in what their sons are fighting for. Mothers
have _got_ to believe in it; or else how could they stand the
thought of bayonets stuck into the bodies they brought forth in
their own blood? (_There is a pause till she controls herself._)
I’ll help you get your things together.
WALLACE
And father?
HILDA
He will be angry.
WALLACE
But you will make him understand?
HILDA
I’ll try. Yet you must be patient with him if he doesn’t
understand. Don’t ever forget his long fight against all kinds of
Prussianism when you hear him reviled by those who have always
hated his radicalism and who, now, under the guise of patriotism,
are trying to render him useless for further attacks on them after
the war. He’s been persecuted so by them--even back in the days
when our press was praising Germany and our distinguished citizens
were dining at the Emperor’s table. Don’t forget all this, my boy.
These days are hard for him--and me--harder perhaps than for you
who go out to die in glory and praise. There are no flags for us,
no music that stirs, no applause; but we too suffer in silence for
what we believe. And it is only the strongest who can survive.--Now
call your father.
WALLACE
(_Goes to door_)
Dad! (_He leaves door open and turns to his mother._) I’ll be
getting my things together. (_There is a pause._ WHITE _enters_.)
Dad, mother has something to ask you. (_He looks from father to
mother._) Thanks, little mother.
(_He kisses her and goes out taking the valise. His father
and mother stand facing each other._)
HILDA
Wallace has volunteered. (_He looks at her keenly._) He has lied
about his age. He wants us to let him go.
WHITE
Volunteered?
HILDA
Yes; he leaves to-night.
WHITE
(_After a pause_)
And what have _you_ told him?
HILDA
That he must go.
WHITE
You can say that?
HILDA
It is the way he sees it.
WHITE
(_Going to her sympathetically_)
Hilda.
HILDA
(_Looking up at him tenderly_)
Oh, Will, do you remember when he was born? (_He soothes her._) And
all we nursed him through afterwards; and all we taught him; all
we tried to show him about war. (_With a shrug of her shoulders._)
None of it has mattered.
WHITE
War is stronger than all that.
HILDA
So we mustn’t blame him. You won’t blame him?
WHITE
He fears I will?
HILDA
He has always feared you a little though he loves you deeply. You
mustn’t oppose him, dear. You won’t?
WHITE
(_Wearily_)
Is there any use opposing anybody or anything these days?
HILDA
We must wait till the storm passes.
WHITE
That’s never been my way.
HILDA
No. You’ve fought all your life. But now we must sit silent
together and wait; wait for our boy to come back. Will, think of
it; we are going to have a boy “over there,” too.
WHITE
Hilda, hasn’t it ever struck you that we may have been all wrong?
(_She looks at him, as she holds his hand._) What could these frail
hands do? How could we poor little King Canutes halt this tide that
has swept over the world? Isn’t it better, after all, that men
should fight themselves out; bring such desolation upon themselves
that they will be forced to see the futility of war? May it not
become so terrible that men--the workers, I mean--will throw down
their worn-out weapons of their own accord? Won’t permanent peace
come through bitter experience rather than talk--talk--talk?
HILDA
(_Touching the torn pages of his speech and smiling_)
Here is your answer to your own question.
WHITE
Oh, that was all theory. We’re in now. You say yourself we can’t
oppose it. Isn’t it better if we try to direct the current to our
own ends rather than sink by trying to swim against it?
HILDA
Oh, yes; it would be easier for one who _could_ compromise.
WHITE
But haven’t we radicals been too intolerant of compromise?
HILDA
That has been _your_ strength. And it is your strength I’m relying
on now that Wallace.... Shall I call him?
WHITE
(_Significantly_)
No; wait.
HILDA
(_Apprehensive at his turn_)
Oh, yes. Before he came you said there was something...? (_The
phone rings. They both look at it._) That’s for you.
WHITE
(_Not moving_)
Yes.
HILDA
(_Hardly believing his attitude_)
Is--is it private?
WHITE
No. Perhaps it will be easier this way. (_He hesitates, then goes
to phone as she stands expectant._) Yes. Yes. Long Distance?
Washington? (_Her lips repeat the word._) Yes. This is William
White. Hello. Yes. Is this the Secretary speaking? Oh, I appreciate
the honor of having you confirm it personally. Senator Bough is
chairman? At _his_ request? Ah, yes; war makes strange bedfellows.
Yes. The passport and credentials? Oh, I’ll be ready. Yes. Good-bye.
(_He hangs up the receiver and looks at her._)
HILDA
You, too!
WHITE
I’ve been trying to tell you these last weeks; but I couldn’t
somehow.
HILDA
You were ashamed?
WHITE
No, dear; only I knew it would hurt you.
HILDA
I’m not thinking of myself but of you. You are going to be part of
this war?
WHITE
I’m going to do what I can to help finish it.
HILDA
By compromising with the beliefs of a lifetime?
WHITE
No, dear; not that. I’ve accepted the appointment on this
commission because I’m going to accept facts.
HILDA
Have the facts of war changed or is it you?
WHITE
Neither has changed; but I’m going to act differently. I’m going to
be part of it. Yes. I’m going to help direct the current.
HILDA
I can’t believe what I am hearing. Is it you, William White,
speaking? You who, for twenty years, have stood against _all_ war!
WHITE
Yes.
HILDA
And now when the test comes you are going to lend yourself to it!
You of all men!
WHITE
Hilda, dear; I didn’t expect you to accept it easily; but I think I
can make you see if you will let me.
HILDA
(_Poignantly_)
If I will _let_ you! Why, Will, I must understand; I must.
WHITE
Perhaps it will be difficult at first--with your standards.
HILDA
But my standards were yours, Will. You gave them to me. You taught
me. You took a young girl who loved you. You showed her the truth,
and she followed you and has followed you gladly through hard years
of struggle and poverty because of those ideals. And now you talk
of _my_ standards! Will, don’t you see, I _must_ understand?
WHITE
Dear, standards are relative things; they differ with circumstance.
HILDA
Have your ideals only been old clothes you change to suit the
weather?
WHITE
It’s the end we must keep in mind. _I_ haven’t changed or
compromised one bit in that. I’m working in changed conditions,
that’s all; working with all my heart to do away with all war.
HILDA
By fighting one?
WHITE
(_With eloquence_)
Yes. Because it is necessary. I’ve come to see we can’t argue war
out of the world with words. We’ve got to beat it out of the world.
It can’t be done with our hands lifted up in prayer; it can only
be done with iron hands crushing it down. War is the mood of the
world. Well, I’m going to fight in my fashion. And when it is over
I’m going to keep on fighting; for the next war will be greater
than this. It will be economic revolution. It will be the war of
capital and labor. And I mean to be ready.
HILDA
(_Listening incredulously_)
And to get ready you are willing to link arms now with Senator
Bough--a man you once called the lackey of Wall Street--a man who
has always opposed every democratic principle....
WHITE
Yes. Don’t you see the Government is beginning to realize
they can’t do without us? Don’t you see my appointment is an
acknowledgment of the rising tide of radicalism in the world?
Don’t you see, with the prestige that will come to me from this
appointment, I will have greater power after the war; power
to bring about the realization of all our dreams; power to
demand--even at the Peace table itself, perhaps--that all wars must
end?
HILDA
Do you actually believe you will have any power with your _own_
people when you have compromised them for a temporary expediency?
WHITE
(_With a gesture_)
The leader must be wiser than the people who follow.
HILDA
So, contempt for your people is the first thing your new power has
brought you! (_He makes a gesture of denial._) You feel you are
above them--not of them. Do you believe for a moment that Senator
Bough has anything but contempt for you, too?
WHITE
(_Confidently_)
He needs me.
HILDA
Needs you? Don’t you understand why he had you appointed on that
committee? He wanted to get you out of the way.
WHITE
Isn’t that an acknowledgment of my power?
HILDA
Yes. You’re a great asset _now_. You’re a “reformed” radical. Why,
Will, he’ll use you in the capitals of Europe to advertise his
liberalism; just as the prohibitionist exhibits a reformed drunkard.
WHITE
And I tell you, Hilda, after the war I shall be stronger than he
is, stronger than any of them.
HILDA
No man is strong unless he does what he feels is right. No, no,
Will; you’ve convicted yourself with your own eloquence. You’ve
wanted to do this for some reason. But it isn’t the one you’ve told
me. No; no.
WHITE
(_Angrily_)
You doubt my sincerity?
HILDA
No; only the way you have read yourself.
WHITE
Well, if you think I’ve tried to make it easy for myself you are
mistaken. Is it easy to pull out of the rut and habit of years?
Easy to know my friends will jeer and say I’ve sold out? Easy to
have _you_ misunderstand? (_Goes to her._) Hilda, I’m doing this
for their good. I’m doing it--just as Wallace is--because I feel
it’s right.
HILDA
No; you shouldn’t say that. You are not doing this for the same
reason Wallace is. He believes in this war. He has accepted it
all simply without a question. If you had seen the look in his
eyes, you would have known he was a dedicated spirit; there was
no shadow, no doubt; it was pure flame. But you! You believe
differently! You can’t hush the mind that for twenty years has
thought no war ever could henceforth be justified. You can’t give
yourself to this war without tricking yourself with phrases. You
see power in it and profit for yourself. (_He protests._) That’s
your own confession. You are only doing what is expedient--not what
is right. Oh, Will, don’t compare your motives with those of our
son. I sent him forth, without a word of protest, because he wishes
to die for his own ideals: you are killing your own ideals for the
ideals of others! (_She turns away._) Oh, Will, that’s what hurts.
If you were only like him, I--I could stand it.
WHITE
(_Quietly, after a pause_)
I can’t be angry at you--even when you say such things. You’ve
been too much a part of my life, and work, and I love you, Hilda.
You know that, don’t you, dear? (_He sits beside her and takes her
hand._) I knew it would be difficult to make you understand. Only
once have I lacked courage and that was when I felt myself being
drawn into this and they offered me the appointment. For then I
saw I must tell you. You know I never have wanted to cause you
pain. But when you asked me to let Wallace go, I thought you would
understand my going, too.--Oh, perhaps our motives are different;
he is young: war has caught his imagination; but, I, too, see a
duty, a way to accomplish my ideals.
HILDA
Let’s leave ideals out of this now. It’s like bitter enemies
praying to the same God as they kill each other.
WHITE
Yes. War is full of ironies. I see that: Wallace can’t. It’s so
full of mixed motives, good and bad. Yes. I’ll grant all that. Only
America has gone in. The whole tide was against us, dear. It is
sweeping over the world: a brown tide of khaki sweeping everything
before it. All my life I’ve fought against the current. (_Wearily_)
And now that I’ve gone in, too, my arms seem less tired. Yes; and
except for the pain I’ve caused you, I’ve never in all my life felt
so--so happy.
(_Then she understands. She slowly turns to him, with
tenderness in her eyes._)
HILDA
Oh, now, Will, I do understand. Now I see the real reason for what
you’ve done.
WHITE
(_Defensively_)
I’ve given the real reason.
HILDA
(_Her heart going out to him_)
You poor tired man. My dear one. Forgive me, if I made it difficult
for you; if I said cruel words. I ought to have guessed; ought
to have seen what life has done to you. (_He looks up, not
understanding her words._) Those hands of yours first dug a living
out of the ground. Then they built houses and grew strong because
you were a workman--a man of the people. You saw injustice and all
your life you fought against those who had the power to inflict
it: the press; the comfortable respectables, like my brother; and
even those of your own group who opposed you--you fought them all.
And they look at you as an outsider, an alien in your own country.
Oh, Will, I know how hard it has been for you to be always on the
defensive, against the majority. It is hard to live alone away from
the herd. It does tire one to the bone and make one envious of the
comfort and security they find by being together.
WHITE
Yes ... but....
HILDA
Now the war comes and with it a chance to get back; to be part
of the majority; to be welcomed with open arms by those who have
fought you; to go back with honor and praise. And, yes, to have
the warmth and comfort of the crowd. That’s the real reason you’re
going in. You’re tired and worn out with the fight. I know. I
understand now.
WHITE
(_Earnestly_)
If I thought it was that, I’d kill myself.
HILDA
There’s been enough killing already. I have to understand it
somehow to accept it at all.
(_He stares at her, wondering at her words. She smiles.
He goes to a chair and sits down, gazing before him. The
music of “Over There” is now heard outside in the street,
approaching nearer and nearer. It is a military band._
WALLACE _excitedly rushes in dressed in khaki_.)
WALLACE
Mother, mother. The boys are coming down the street. (_Sees
father._) Dad! Mother has told you?
HILDA
(_Calmly_)
Yes; I’ve told him.
WALLACE
And you’re going to let me go, Dad?
HILDA
Yes.
WALLACE
Oh, thanks, Dad. (_Grasping his hand._) I knew mother would make
you see. (_Music nearer._) Listen! Isn’t that a great tune? Lifts
you up on your feet and carries you over there. Gee, it just gets
into a fellow and makes him want to run for his gun and charge
over the top. (_He goes to balcony._) Look! They’re nearing here;
all ready to sail with the morning tide. They’ve got their helmets
on. You can’t see the end of them coming down the avenue. Oh,
thank God, I’m going to be one of them soon. Thank God! I’m going
to fight for Uncle Sam and the Stars and Stripes. (_Calls off._)
Hurrah! (_To them._) Oh, I wish I had a flag. Why haven’t we got a
flag here--Hurrah!!
(_As he goes out on the balcony the music plays louder._
HILDA _has gone to_ WHITE _during this, and stands behind
him, with her arms down his arms, as he sits there, gazing
before him_.)
HILDA
(_Fervently_)
Oh, Will, if I could only feel it as he does!!
(_The music begins to trail off as_ WHITE _tenderly takes
hold of her hands_.)
[CURTAIN]
[C] Copyright by George Middleton. See back of title page.
AMONG THE LIONS
THE PEOPLE
PATRICIA TENNER, _a popular “star.”_
MRS. EMILY FROWDE, “_a lion-hunter_.”
MISS EVA STANNARD, _about whom there has been talk_.
THE BROWN ONE, }
THE BLUE ONE, } _as they appear to Patricia_.
THE GREEN ONE, }
M. MAVOSKY, _an artist “who’s all the rage.”_
GEORGE SILVERTON, _a musician; an old friend of Patricia_.
OTHER GUESTS.
SCENE
_Drawing-room at Mrs. Frowde’s during a small reception given to
Patricia Tenner. A late afternoon._
AMONG THE LIONS[D]
_An elaborate drawing-room is disclosed, with bare high-paneled
walls, relieved only by attractive candle-clusters and a stretch
of tapestry. At back is an alcove effect in which a piano is seen,
with the usual decorations of a music-room suggested beyond.
There are two openings which lead to the hallways and street
doors without. Opposite these is a stone-built fireplace with a
smoldering log blaze and attractive “British Soldier” andirons. By
this rests a deep chair which tones with the other furnishings. A
tea-table, resplendent with silver, stands obliquely in the center,
with lighted candles. Appropriate ferns and flowers rest in likely
places._
GEORGE SILVERTON _is playing a Chopin étude in the music-room;
about the opening are grouped_ PATRICIA TENNER, MRS. FROWDE, THE
BROWN ONE, THE GREEN ONE, THE BLUE ONE _and others. They are
listening, duly impressed by the touch of an expert._
MAVOSKY, _the artist, is standing off alone by the tea-table
complacently munching a macaroon and eyeing_ PATRICIA.
MAVOSKY _is about forty, tall, with large eyes and a pointed beard.
There is a slight Russian accent in his speech and his manners have
the studied spontaneity of a professional foreigner exploiting
a new field. As he continues to watch_ PATRICIA _with a cynical
smile, she leaves the group unobserved by the others and moves
towards the low, deep chair near the fireplace_.
PATRICIA _has the large features of a stage-beauty, which enhance
her appearance before the footlights. Her hair is parted and coiled
low on her neck. She is elegantly gowned, and carries a long,
elaborate scarf which is hung across her back and held by each arm.
She uses this continually to increase her instinctive plasticity.
As she turns there is a serious expression upon her face, as
though, for once she had been her true self._
PATRICIA
(_Almost inaudibly_)
George Silverton. Poor George!
(_She seems to feel_ MAVOSKY’S _eyes; but again mistress
of herself, turns, and smiles invitingly. Then she drapes
herself artistically in the chair._ MAVOSKY _comes with
the plate of macaroons, which she declines with a pretty
gesture. He replaces them on the table, and, seeing no one
is watching, returns to her, speaking softly as the music
continues._)
MAVOSKY
_Quel charme!_
PATRICIA
The gown or the pose?
MAVOSKY
Mademoiselle Tenner, in _your_ profession they are inseparable.
PATRICIA
We actresses belong only to each moment we act. It is _your_
profession which fastens us as we should be in the memory of others.
MAVOSKY
Perhaps that is why my portraits please.
PATRICIA
(_Bantering charmingly_)
And you only take celebrities, Monsieur Mavosky.
MAVOSKY
I wish to go to posterity on the hem of their garments.
PATRICIA
(_Smiling_)
Some day I may wear a gown that pleases you, eh?
(_He starts to answer, but the music stops and the others
applaud in perfect taste. He offers his hand in parting, as
she seems to invite it._)
MAVOSKY
_Au revoir._
PATRICIA
(_With a fascinating smile_)
_Déjà?_
(_He bows far over her hand and their eyes meet with
interest. As he turns away, while the others come into the
room_, PATRICIA _gives a secret smile of satisfaction,
as though she had obtained her intention. Then she sighs
wearily, bored, as she glances at the others._
MRS. FROWDE, _the hostess is about fifty, looking forty;
rather large and as self-contained as possible in her
loose black tea-gown. She is a nervous woman with an
apparent seriousness in her social undertakings. Her eyes
are continually criticizing and her hands correcting. She
has a gracious voice, and towards_ PATRICIA, _at least, a
possessive protectiveness_.
THE BROWN ONE _has a good profile from her chin up, but
otherwise, in spite of lacing, is stout. Her tan gown makes
up in elegance what it lacks in outline._
_The clinging gown of_ THE BLUE ONE _accentuates the languid
manner she affects. There is a satisfied, set smile upon her
aquiline face and her voice maintains a gentle, persistent
tremolo._
THE GREEN ONE _is younger than the others and in general
indefiniteness of bearing and appearance merely suggests
money. Her olive-trimmed gown is very simple, but is caught
by a conspicuous jade belt._
_These, with the other guests who gradually depart, suggest
the atmosphere of a conventional tea._)
OMNES
(_Enthusiastically to Silverton_)
How delightful! How wonderful!
(GEORGE SILVERTON _is medium-sized, in the late thirties,
with a fine, sensitive face and short-cropped hair. He is
retiring in manner and seems ill at ease in the present
company. Towards_ PATRICIA, _however, this disappears and it
is evident he has known her well_.)
THE BROWN ONE
(_Shrugging her shoulders, and splashing each sentence with jerky
gestures throughout._)
He has such a _je-ne-sais-quoi_. Don’t you think?
THE BLUE ONE
(_In a shocked tone_)
I’d hardly put it that way.
SILVERTON
(_To_ THE BROWN ONE)
You compliment me.
MRS. FROWDE
Didn’t Pachmann play that at the Philharmonic Friday?
THE GREEN ONE
How should I know?