The cub there snores good counsel. When all's done,
What a bubble is ambition!... When all's done....
What's yet to do?... Why, sleep.... Yet even now
I was on fire to see myself and you
Off for the Colony with Raleigh's men.
I've been beholden to 'ee.... Why, for thee
I could make shift to suffer plays o' Thursday.
Thou'rt the best man among them, o' my word.
There's other trades and crafts and qualities
Could serve ... an thou wouldst lay thy wit to mine.
Us two!... us two!...
THE PLAYER [_apart, to the fire_].
"Fair, kind, and true."...
WAT. ... Poor Nick!
[_He nods over his ale. There is muffled noise in the taproom. Someone
opens the door a second, letting in a stave of a song, then slams the
door shut. THE PLAYER, who has turned, gloomily, starts to rise.
DICKON moves in his sleep, sighs heavily, and settles his cheek
against THE PLAYER's shoes. THE PLAYER looks down for a moment. Then
he sits again, looking now at the fire, now at the boy, whose hair he
touches._]
THE PLAYER.
So, heavy-head. You bid me think my thought
Twice over; keep me by, a heavy heart,
As ballast for thy dream. Well, I will watch ...
Like slandered Providence. Nay, I'll not be
The prop to fail thy trust untenderly,
After a troubled day....
Nay, rest you here.
[THE CURTAIN.]
THE LITTLE MAN[54]
By JOHN GALSWORTHY
[Footnote 54: From _The Little Man and Other Satires_;
copyright, 1915, by Charles Scribner's Sons. By permission of
the publishers. Acting rights, professional and amateur,
reserved to the author in care of the publisher.]
"Close by the Greek temples at Paestum there are violets that seem
redder, and sweeter, than any ever seen--as though they have sprung up
out of the footprints of some old pagan goddess; but under the April
sun, in a Devonshire lane, the little blue scentless violets capture
every bit as much of the spring." Affection for the West country that
was the home of John Galsworthy's ancestors heightens the glamour of
this enchanting bit of writing from one of his essays. As he himself
has said, the Galsworthys have been in Devonshire as far back as
records go--"since the flood of Saxons at all events." He was born,
though, at Coombe in Surrey in 1867. From 1881 to 1886, he was at
Harrow where he did well at work and games. He was graduated with an
honor degree in law from New College, Oxford, in 1889. Following his
father's example, he took up the law and was called to the bar
(Lincoln's Inn) in 1890. "I read," he says, "in various chambers,
practised almost not at all, and disliked my profession thoroughly."
For nearly two years thereafter, Galsworthy traveled, visiting among
other places, Russia, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, the Fiji
Islands, and South Africa. On a sailing-ship plying between Adelaide
and the Cape he met and made a friend of the novelist, Joseph Conrad,
then still a sailor. Galsworthy was soon to become a writer himself,
publishing his first novel in 1899. Since that date he has written
novels, plays, essays, and verse that have made him famous.[55]
Through his writings he has become a great social force. In this
respect his influence resembles that of Charles Dickens. He has made
people who read his books or see his plays acted think about the
justice or injustice of institutions commonly accepted without a
question. The presentation of his play _Justice_ (1909), moved the
Home Secretary of the day, Winston Churchill, to put into effect
several important reforms affecting the English prison system.
[Footnote 55: For a short bibliography, see Sheila
Kaye-Smith, _John Galsworthy_, London, 1916.]
_The Little Man_, no less a socializing agency in its way, was
produced in New York at Maxine Elliott's Theatre in February, 1917, as
a curtain raiser to G. K. Chesterton's play, Magic. The part of the
Little Man himself was taken by O. P. Heggie, one of the most
intelligent and distinguished actors on the English-speaking stage. J.
Ranken Towse, reviewing the performance for the Saturday Magazine of
the _New York Evening Post_, on February 17, 1917, wrote: "Another
entertainment of notable excellence is that provided by the double
bill at Maxine Elliott's Theatre, consisting of Galsworthy's _The
Little Man_ and Chesterton's _Magic_. Here are two plays of diverse
character and superior quality, in which some highly intelligent and
artistic acting is done by Mr. O. P. Heggie. Some sensitive reviewers
have found cause of offense in Mr. Galsworthy's somewhat fanciful
American, but the dramatist has been equally disrespectful in his
handling of Germans, Dutch, and English. The value and significance of
the piece, of course, are to be looked for, not in its broad
humors--which are largely conventional--but in the ethical and moral
lesson and profound social philosophy which they suggest and
illustrate." It is hard to sympathize with the "sensitive reviewers,"
though to the native ear, to be sure, the utterances of the American
lack verisimilitude. The author of _The Little Man_ has even been
humorously reproached with using the speech of Deadwood Dick for his
model.
The play was also given quite recently, during the season of 1920-21,
as part of the repertory at the Everyman Theatre in London. On the
programs invariably appears the note which is prefixed also to this as
to every printed version. It explains carefully that this play was
written before the days of the Great War. This note bespeaks the
playwright's perfect detachment which is, as has been said, "an
artistic device, not a matter of divine indifference." Yet the satire
does seem to be directed, incidentally at least, against certain
familiar national characteristics, for it is the humanity of the
Little Man, whose mixed ancestry is described by the American as being
"a bit streaky," that puts to shame the various types of human
arrogance and indifference with which he is surrounded.
THE LITTLE MAN[56]
[Footnote 56: AUTHOR'S NOTE
Since it is just possible that someone may think _The Little
Man_ has a deep, dark reference to the war, it may be as well
to state that this whimsey was written in October, 1913.]
_SCENE I.--Afternoon, on the departure platform of an Austrian railway
station. At several little tables outside the buffet persons are
taking refreshment, served by a pale young waiter. On a seat against
the wall of the buffet a woman of lowly station is sitting beside two
large bundles, on one of which she has placed her baby, swathed in a
black shawl._
WAITER [_approaching a table whereat sit an English traveler and his
wife_]. Zwei Kaffee?
ENGLISHMAN [_paying_]. Thanks. [_To his wife, in an Oxford voice._]
Sugar?
ENGLISHWOMAN [_in a Cambridge voice_]. One.
AMERICAN TRAVELER [_with field-glasses and a pocket camera--from
another table_]. Waiter, I'd like to have you get my eggs. I've been
sitting here quite a while.
WAITER. Yes, sare.
GERMAN TRAVELER. Kellner, bezahlen! [_His voice is, like his mustache,
stiff and brushed up at the ends. His figure also is stiff and his
hair a little gray; clearly once, if not now, a colonel._]
WAITER. Komm' gleich! [_The baby on the bundle wails. The mother takes
it up to soothe it. A young, red-cheeked Dutchman at the fourth table
stops eating and laughs._]
AMERICAN. My eggs! Get a wiggle on you!
WAITER. Yes, sare. [_He rapidly recedes. A LITTLE MAN in a soft hat is
seen to the right of the tables. He stands a moment looking after the
hurrying waiter, then seats himself at the fifth table._]
ENGLISHMAN [_looking at his watch_]. Ten minutes more.
ENGLISHWOMAN. Bother!
AMERICAN [_addressing them_]. 'Pears as if they'd a prejudice against
eggs here, anyway. [_The English look at him, but do not speak._]
GERMAN [_in creditable English_]. In these places man can get nothing.
[_The WAITER comes flying back with a compote for the DUTCH YOUTH, who
pays._]
GERMAN. Kellner, bezahlen!
WAITER. Eine Krone sechzig. [_The GERMAN pays._]
AMERICAN [_rising, and taking out his watch--blandly_]. See here! If I
don't get my eggs before this watch ticks twenty, there'll be another
waiter in heaven.
WAITER [_flying_]. Komm' gleich!
AMERICAN [_seeking sympathy_]. I'm gettin' kind of mad!
[_The ENGLISHMAN halves his newspaper and hands the advertisement half
to his wife. The BABY wails. The MOTHER rocks it. The DUTCH YOUTH
stops eating and laughs. The GERMAN lights a cigarette. The LITTLE MAN
sits motionless, nursing his hat. The WAITER comes flying back with
the eggs and places them before the AMERICAN._]
AMERICAN [_putting away his watch_]. Good! I don't like trouble. How
much? [_He pays and eats. The WAITER stands a moment at the edge of
the platform and passes his hand across his brow. The LITTLE MAN eyes
him and speaks gently._]
LITTLE MAN. Herr Ober! [_The WAITER turns._] Might I have a glass of
beer?
WAITER. Yes, sare.
LITTLE MAN. Thank you very much. [_The WAITER goes._]
AMERICAN [_pausing in the deglutition of his eggs--affably_]. Pardon
me, sir; I'd like to have you tell me why you called that little bit
of a feller "Herr Ober." Reckon you would know what that means? Mr.
Head Waiter.
LITTLE MAN. Yes, yes.
AMERICAN. I smile.
LITTLE MAN. Oughtn't I to call him that?
GERMAN [_abruptly_]. Nein--Kellner.
AMERICAN. Why, yes! Just "waiter." [_The ENGLISHWOMAN looks round her
paper for a second. The DUTCH YOUTH stops eating and laughs. The
LITTLE MAN gazes from face to face and nurses his hat._]
LITTLE MAN. I didn't want to hurt his feelings.
GERMAN. Gott!
AMERICAN. In my country we're vurry democratic--but that's quite a
proposition.
ENGLISHMAN [_handling coffee-pot, to his wife_]. More?
ENGLISHWOMAN. No, thanks.
GERMAN [_abruptly_]. These fellows--if you treat them in this manner,
at once they take liberties. You see, you will not get your beer. [_As
he speaks the WAITER returns, bringing the LITTLE MAN's beer, then
retires._]
AMERICAN. That 'pears to be one up to democracy. [_To the LITTLE
MAN._] I judge you go in for brotherhood?
LITTLE MAN [_startled_]. Oh, no! I never--
AMERICAN. I take considerable stock in Leo Tolstoi myself. Grand
man--grand-souled apparatus. But I guess you've got to pinch those
waiters some to make 'em skip. [_To the ENGLISH, who have carelessly
looked his way for a moment._] You'll appreciate that, the way he
acted about my eggs. [_The ENGLISH make faint motions with their
chins, and avert their eyes. To the WAITER, who is standing at the
door of the buffet._] Waiter! Flash of beer--jump, now!
WAITER. Komm' gleich!
GERMAN. Cigarren!
WAITER. Schoen. [_He disappears._]
AMERICAN [_affably--to the LITTLE MAN_]. Now, if I don't get that
flash of beer quicker'n you got yours, I shall admire.
GERMAN [_abruptly_]. Tolstoi is nothing--nichts! No good! Ha?
AMERICAN [_relishing the approach of argument_]. Well, that is a
matter of temperament. Now, I'm all for equality. See that poor woman
there--vurry humble woman--there she sits among us with her baby.
Perhaps you'd like to locate her somewhere else?
GERMAN [_shrugging_]. Tolstoi is sentimentalisch. Nietzsche is the
true philosopher, the only one.
AMERICAN. Well, that's quite in the prospectus--vurry stimulating
party--old Nietzsch--virgin mind. But give me Leo! [_He turns to the
red-cheeked youth._] What do you opine, sir? I guess by your labels,
you'll be Dutch. Do they read Tolstoi in your country? [_The DUTCH
YOUTH laughs._]
AMERICAN. That is a vurry luminous answer.
GERMAN. Tolstoi is nothing. Man should himself express. He must
push--he must be strong.
AMERICAN. That is so. In Amurrica we believe in virility; we like a
man to expand--to cultivate his soul. But we believe in brotherhood
too; we're vurry democratic. We draw the line at niggers; but we
aspire, we're vurry high-souled. Social barriers and distinctions
we've not much use for.
ENGLISHMAN. Do you feel a draught?
ENGLISHWOMAN [_with a shiver of her shoulder toward the AMERICAN_]. I
do--rather.
GERMAN. Wait! You are a young people.
AMERICAN. That is so; there are no flies on us. [_To the LITTLE MAN,
who has been gazing eagerly from face to face._] Say! I'd like to have
you give us your sentiments in relation to the duty of man. [_The
LITTLE MAN fidgets, and is about to open his mouth._]
AMERICAN. For example--is it your opinion that we should kill off the
weak and diseased, and all that can't jump around?
GERMAN [_nodding_]. Ja, ja! That is coming.
LITTLE MAN [_looking from face to face_]. They might be me. [_The
DUTCH YOUTH laughs._]
AMERICAN [_reproving him with a look_]. That's true humility. 'Tisn't
grammar. Now, here's a proposition that brings it nearer the bone:
Would you step out of your way to help them when it was liable to
bring you trouble?
GERMAN. Nein, nein! That is stupid.
LITTLE MAN [_eager but wistful_]. I'm afraid not. Of course one wants
to--
GERMAN. Nein, nein! That is stupid! What is the duty?
LITTLE MAN. There was St. Francis d'Assisi and St. Julien
l'Hospitalier, and--
AMERICAN. Vurry lofty dispositions. Guess they died of them. [_He
rises._] Shake hands, sir--my name is--[_He hands a card._] I am an
ice-machine maker. [_He shakes the LITTLE MAN's hand._] I like your
sentiments--I feel kind of brotherly. [_Catching sight of the WAITER
appearing in the doorway._] Waiter, where to h--ll is that flash of
beer?
GERMAN. Cigarren!
WAITER. Komm' gleich! [_He vanishes._]
ENGLISHMAN [_consulting watch_]. Train's late.
ENGLISHWOMAN. Really! Nuisance! [_A station POLICEMAN, very square and
uniformed, passes and repasses._]
AMERICAN [_resuming his seat--to the GERMAN_]. Now, we don't have so
much of that in Amurrica. Guess we feel more to trust in human nature.
GERMAN. Ah! ha! you will bresently find there is nothing in him but
self.
LITTLE MAN [_wistfully_]. Don't you believe in human nature?
AMERICAN. Vurry stimulating question. That invites remark. [_He looks
round for opinions. The DUTCH YOUTH laughs._]
ENGLISHMAN [_holding out his half of the paper to his wife_]. Swap!
[_His wife swaps._]
GERMAN. In human nature I believe so far as I can see him--no more.
AMERICAN. Now that 'pears to me kind o' blasphemy. I'm vurry
idealistic; I believe in heroism. I opine there's not one of us
settin' around here that's not a hero--give him the occasion.
LITTLE MAN. Oh! Do you believe that?
AMERICAN. Well! I judge a hero is just a person that'll help another
at the expense of himself. That's a vurry simple definition. Take that
poor woman there. Well, now, she's a heroine, I guess. She would die
for her baby any old time.
GERMAN. Animals will die for their babies. That is nothing.
AMERICAN. Vurry true. I carry it further. I postulate we would all die
for that baby if a locomotive was to trundle up right here and try to
handle it. I'm an idealist. [_To the GERMAN._] I guess _you_ don't
know how good you are. [_As the GERMAN is twisting up the ends of his
mustache--to the ENGLISHWOMAN._] I should like to have you express an
opinion, ma'am. This is a high subject.
ENGLISHWOMAN. I beg your pardon.
AMERICAN. The English are vurry humanitarian; they have a vurry high
sense of duty. So have the Germans, so have the Amurricans. [_To the
DUTCH YOUTH._] I judge even in your little country they have that.
This is a vurry civilized epoch. It is an epoch of equality and
high-toned ideals. [_To the LITTLE MAN._] What is your nationality,
sir?
LITTLE MAN. I'm afraid I'm nothing particular. My father was
half-English and half-American, and my mother half-German and
half-Dutch.
AMERICAN. My! That's a bit streaky, any old way. [_The POLICEMAN
passes again._] Now, I don't believe we've much use any more for those
gentlemen in buttons, not amongst the civilized peoples. We've grown
kind of mild--we don't think of self as we used to do. [_The WAITER
has appeared in the doorway._]
GERMAN [_in a voice of thunder_]. Cigarren! Donnerwetter!
AMERICAN [_shaking his fist at the vanishing WAITER_]. That flash of
beer!
WAITER. Komm' gleich!
AMERICAN. A little more, and he will join George Washington! I was
about to remark when he intruded: The kingdom of Christ nowadays is
quite a going concern. The Press is vurry enlightened. We are mighty
near to universal brotherhood. The colonel here [_he indicates the
GERMAN_], he doesn't know what a lot of stock he holds in that
proposition. He is a man of blood and iron, but give him an
opportunity to be magnanimous, and he'll be right there. Oh, sir! yes.
[_The GERMAN, with a profound mixture of pleasure and cynicism,
brushes up the ends of his mustache._]
LITTLE MAN. I wonder. One wants to, but somehow--[_He shakes his
head._]
AMERICAN. You seem kind of skeery about that. You've had experience
maybe. The flesh is weak. I'm an optimist--I think we're bound to make
the devil hum in the near future. I opine we shall occasion a good
deal of trouble to that old party. There's about to be a holocaust of
selfish interests. We're out for high sacrificial business. The
colonel there with old-man Nietzsch--he won't know himself. There's
going to be a vurry sacred opportunity. [_As he speaks, the voice of a
RAILWAY OFFICIAL is heard in the distance calling out in German. It
approaches, and the words become audible._]
GERMAN [_startled_]. Der Teufel! [_He gets up, and seizes the bag
beside him. The STATION OFFICIAL has appeared, he stands for a moment
casting his commands at the seated group. The DUTCH YOUTH also rises,
and takes his coat and hat. The OFFICIAL turns on his heel and
retires, still issuing directions._]
ENGLISHMAN. What does he say?
GERMAN. Our drain has come in, de oder platform; only one minute we
haf. [_All have risen in a fluster._]
AMERICAN. Now, that's vurry provoking. I won't get that flash of beer.
[_There is a general scurry to gather coats and hats and wraps, during
which the lowly woman is seen making desperate attempts to deal with
her baby and the two large bundles. Quite defeated, she suddenly puts
all down, wrings her hands, and cries out: "Herr Jesu! Hilfe!" The
flying procession turn their heads at that strange cry._]
AMERICAN. What's that? Help? [_He continues to run. The LITTLE MAN
spins round, rushes back, picks up baby and bundle on which it was
seated._]
LITTLE MAN. Come along, good woman, come along! [_The woman picks up
the other bundle and they run. The WAITER, appearing in the doorway
with the bottle of beer, watches with his tired smile._]
_SCENE II.--A second-class compartment of a corridor carriage, in
motion. In it are seated the ENGLISHMAN and his wife, opposite each
other at the corridor end, she with her face to the engine, he with
his back. Both are somewhat protected from the rest of the travelers
by newspapers. Next to her sits the GERMAN, and opposite him sits the
AMERICAN; next the AMERICAN in one window corner is seated the DUTCH
YOUTH; the other window corner is taken by the GERMAN's bag. The
silence is only broken by the slight rushing noise of the train's
progression and the crackling of the English newspapers._
AMERICAN [_turning to the DUTCH YOUTH_]. Guess I'd like that winder
raised; it's kind of chilly after that old run they gave us. [_The
DUTCH YOUTH laughs, and goes through the motions of raising the
window. The ENGLISH regard the operation with uneasy irritation. The
GERMAN opens his bag, which reposes on the corner seat next him, and
takes out a book._]
AMERICAN. The Germans are great readers. Vurry stimulating practice. I
read most anything myself! [_The GERMAN holds up the book so that the
title may be read._] "Don Quixote"--fine book. We Amurricans take
considerable stock in old man Quixote. Bit of a wild-cat--but we
don't laugh at him.
GERMAN. He is dead. Dead as a sheep. A good thing, too.
AMERICAN. In Amurrica we have still quite an amount of chivalry.
GERMAN. Chivalry is nothing--sentimentalisch. In modern days--no good.
A man must push, he must pull.
AMERICAN. So you say. But I judge your form of chivalry is sacrifice
to the state. We allow more freedom to the individual soul. Where
there's something little and weak, we feel it kind of noble to give up
to it. That way we feel elevated. [_As he speaks there is seen in the
corridor doorway the LITTLE MAN, with the WOMAN'S BABY still on his
arm and the bundle held in the other hand. He peers in anxiously. The
ENGLISH, acutely conscious, try to dissociate themselves from his
presence with their papers. The DUTCH YOUTH laughs._]
GERMAN. Ach! So!
AMERICAN. Dear me!
LITTLE MAN. Is there room? I can't find a seat.
AMERICAN. Why, yes! There's a seat for one.
LITTLE MAN [_depositing bundle outside, and heaving BABY_]. May I?
AMERICAN. Come right in! [_The GERMAN sulkily moves his bag. The
LITTLE MAN comes in and seats himself gingerly._]
AMERICAN. Where's the mother?
LITTLE MAN [_ruefully_]. Afraid she got left behind. [_The DUTCH YOUTH
laughs. The ENGLISH unconsciously emerge from their newspapers._]
AMERICAN. My! That would appear to be quite a domestic incident. [_The
ENGLISHMAN suddenly utters a profound "Ha, Ha!" and disappears behind
his paper. And that paper and the one opposite are seen to shake, and
little squirls and squeaks emerge._]
GERMAN. And you haf got her bundle, and her baby. Ha! [_He cackles
dryly._]
AMERICAN [_gravely_]. I smile. I guess Providence has played it pretty
low down on you. I judge it's acted real mean. [_The BABY wails, and
the LITTLE MAN jigs it with a sort of gentle desperation, looking
apologetically from face to face. His wistful glance renews the fire
of merriment wherever it alights. The AMERICAN alone preserves a
gravity which seems incapable of being broken._]
AMERICAN. Maybe you'd better get off right smart and restore that
baby. There's nothing can act madder than a mother.
LITTLE MAN. Poor thing; yes! What she must be suffering! [_A gale of
laughter shakes the carriage. The ENGLISH for a moment drop their
papers, the better to indulge. The LITTLE MAN smiles a wintry smile._]
AMERICAN [_in a lull_]. How did it eventuate?
LITTLE MAN. We got there just as the train was going to start; and I
jumped, thinking I could help her up. But it moved too quickly,
and--and--left her. [_The gale of laughter blows up again._]
AMERICAN. Guess I'd have thrown the baby out.
LITTLE MAN. I was afraid the poor little thing might break. [_The BABY
wails; the LITTLE MAN heaves it; the gale of laughter blows._]
AMERICAN [_gravely_]. It's highly entertaining--not for the baby. What
kind of an old baby is it, anyway? [_He sniffs._] I judge it's a
bit--niffy.
LITTLE MAN. Afraid I've hardly looked at it yet.
AMERICAN. Which end up is it?
LITTLE MAN. Oh! I think the right end. Yes, yes, it is.
AMERICAN. Well, that's something. Guess I should hold it out of winder
a bit. Vurry excitable things, babies!
ENGLISHWOMAN [_galvanized_]. No, no!
ENGLISHMAN [_touching her knee_]. My dear!
AMERICAN. You are right, ma'am. I opine there's a draught out there.
This baby is precious. We've all of us got stock in this baby in a
manner of speaking. This is a little bit of universal brotherhood. Is
it a woman baby?
LITTLE MAN. I--I can only see the top of its head.
AMERICAN. You can't always tell from that. It looks kind of
over-wrapped-up. Maybe it had better be unbound.
GERMAN. Nein, nein, nein!
AMERICAN. I think you are vurry likely right, colonel. It might be a
pity to unbind that baby. I guess the lady should be consulted in this
matter.
ENGLISHWOMAN. Yes, yes, of course--I--
ENGLISHMAN [_touching her_]. Let it be! Little beggar seems all right.
AMERICAN. That would seem only known to Providence at this moment. I
judge it might be due to humanity to look at its face.
LITTLE MAN [_gladly_]. It's sucking my finger. There, there--nice
little thing--there!
AMERICAN. I would surmise you have created babies in your leisure
moments, sir?
LITTLE MAN. Oh! no--indeed, no.
AMERICAN. Dear me! That is a loss. [_Addressing himself to the
carriage at large._] I think we may esteem ourselves fortunate to have
this little stranger right here with us; throws a vurry tender and
beautiful light on human nature. Demonstrates what a hold the little
and weak have upon us nowadays. The colonel here--a man of blood and
iron--there he sits quite ca'm next door to it. [_He sniffs._] Now,
this baby is ruther chastening--that is a sign of grace, in the
colonel--that is true heroism.