MENDEL from kitchen.]
MENDEL [To VERA]
I'm so sorry-I can't get him to come in-he's terrible shy.
QUINCY
Won't face the music, eh?
[He sniggers.]
VERA
Did you tell him I was here?
MENDEL
Of course.
VERA [Disappointed]
Oh!
MENDEL
But I've persuaded him to let me show his MS.
VERA [With forced satisfaction]
Oh, well, that's all we want.
[MENDEL goes to the desk, opens it, and gets the MS. and offers
it to QUINCY DAVENPORT.]
QUINCY
Not for me-Poppy!
[MENDEL offers it to PAPPELMEISTER, who takes it solemnly. ]
MENDEL [Anxiously to PAPPELMEISTER]
Of course you must remember his youth and his lack of musical education--
PAPPELMEISTER
Bitte, das Pult!
[MENDEL moves DAVID'S music-stand from the corner to the centre
of the room. PAPPELMEISTER puts MS. on it.] So!
[All eyes centre on him eagerly, MENDEL standing uneasily, the
others sitting. PAPPELMEISTER polishes his glasses with
irritating elaborateness and weary "achs," then reads in absolute
silence. A pause.]
QUINCY [Bored by the silence]
But won't you play it to us?
PAPPELMEISTER
Blay it? Am I an orchestra? I blay it in my brain.
[He goes on reading, his brow gets wrinkled. He ruffles his hair
unconsciously. All watch him anxiously-he turns the page. ] So!
VERA [Anxiously]
You don't seem to like it!
PAPPELMEISTER
I do not comprehend it.
MENDEL
I knew it was crazy-it is supposed to be about America or a Crucible or something. And of course there are heaps of mistakes.
VERA
That is why I am suggesting to Mr. Davenport to send him to Germany.
QUINCY
I'll send as many Jews as you like to Germany. Ha! Ha! Ha!
PAPPELMEISTER [Absorbed, turning pages]
Ach!-ach!-So!
QUINCY
I'd even lend my own yacht to take 'em back. Ha! Ha! Ha!
VERA
Sh! We're disturbing Herr Pappelmeister.
QUINCY
Oh, Poppy's all right.
PAPPELMEISTER [Sublimely unconscious]
Ach so-so-SO! Das ist etwas neues!
[His umbrella begins to beat time, moving more and more
vigorously, till at last he is conducting elaborately, stretching
out his left palm for pianissimo passages, and raising it
vigorously for forte, with every now and then an exclamation. ] Wunderschön!... pianissimo!-now the flutes! Clarinets! Ach, ergötzlich ... bassoons and drums!... Fortissimo!... Kolossal! Kolossal!
[Conducting in a fury of enthusiasm.]
VERA [Clapping her hands]
Bravo! Bravo! I'm so excited!
QUINCY [Yawning]
Then it isn't bad, Poppy?
PAPPELMEISTER [Not listening, never ceasing to conduct]
Und de harp solo ... ach, reizend! ... Second violins--!
QUINCY
But Poppy! We can't be here all day.
PAPPELMEISTER [Not listening, continuing pantomime action]
Sh! Sh! Piano.
QUINCY [Outraged]
Sh to me!
[Rises.]
VERA
He doesn't know it's you.
QUINCY
But look here, Poppy--
[He seizes the wildly-moving umbrella. Blank stare of
PAPPELMEISTER gradually returning to consciousness.]
PAPPELMEISTER
Was giebt's...?
QUINCY
We've had enough.
PAPPELMEISTER [Indignant]
Enough? Enough? Of such a beaudiful symphony?
QUINCY
It may be beautiful to you, but to us it's damn dull. See here, Poppy, if you're satisfied that the young fellow has sufficient talent to be sent to study in Germany--
PAPPELMEISTER
In Germany! Germany has nodings to teach him, he has to teach Germany.
VERA
Bravo!
[She springs up.]
MENDEL
I always said he was a genius!
QUINCY
Well, at that rate you could put this stuff of his in one of my programmes. Sinfonia Americana, eh?
VERA
Oh, that is good of you.
PAPPELMEISTER
I should be broud to indroduce it to de vorld.
VERA
And will it be played in that wonderful marble music-room overlooking the Hudson?
QUINCY
Sure. Before five hundred of the smartest folk in America.
MENDEL
Oh, thank you, thank you. That will mean fame!
QUINCY
And dollars. Don't forget the dollars.
MENDEL
I'll run and tell him.
[He hastens into the kitchen, PAPPELMEISTER is re-absorbed in
the MS., but no longer conducting.]
QUINCY
You see, I'll help even a Jew for your sake.
VERA
Hush!
[Indicating PAPPELMEISTER.]
QUINCY
Oh, Poppy's in the moon.
VERA
You must help him for his own sake, for art's sake.
QUINCY
And why not for heart's sake-for my sake?
[He comes nearer.]
VERA [Crossing to PAPPELMEISTER]
Herr Pappelmeister! When do you think you can produce it?
PAPPELMEISTER
Wunderbar!...
[Becoming half-conscious of VERA] Four lumps....
[Waking up] Bitte?
VERA
How soon can you produce it?
PAPPELMEISTER
How soon can he finish it?
VERA
Isn't it finished?
PAPPELMEISTER
I see von Finale scratched out and anoder not quite completed. But anyhow, ve couldn't broduce it before Saturday fortnight.
QUINCY
Saturday fortnight! Not time to get my crowd.
PAPPELMEISTER
Den ve say Saturday dree veeks. Yes?
QUINCY
Yes. Stop a minute! Did you say Saturday? That's my comic opera night! You thief!
PAPPELMEISTER
Somedings must be sagrificed.
MENDEL [Outside]
But you must come, David.
[The kitchen door opens, and MENDEL drags in the boyishly
shrinking DAVID. PAPPELMEISTER thumps with his umbrella, VERA
claps her hands, QUINCY DAVENPORT produces his eyeglass and
surveys DAVID curiously.]
VERA
Oh, Mr. Quixano, I am so glad! Mr. Davenport is going to produce your symphony in his wonderful music-room.
QUINCY
Yes, young man, I'm going to give you the smartest audience in America. And if Poppy is right, you're just going to rake in the dollars. America wants a composer.
PAPPELMEISTER [Raises hands emphatically.]
Ach Gott, ja!
VERA [To DAVID]
Why don't you speak? You're not angry with me for interfering--?
DAVID
I can never be grateful enough to you--
VERA
Oh, not to me. It is to Mr. Davenport you--
DAVID
And I can never be grateful enough to Herr Pappelmeister. It is an honour even to meet him.
[Bows.]
PAPPELMEISTER [Choking with emotion, goes and pats him on the back.]
Mein braver Junge!
VERA [Anxiously]
&nb
sp; But it is Mr. Davenport--
DAVID
Before I accept Mr. Davenport's kindness, I must know to whom I am indebted-and if Mr. Davenport is the man who--
QUINCY
Who travelled with you to New York? Ha! Ha! Ha! No, I'm only the junior.
DAVID
Oh, I know, sir, you don't make the money you spend.
QUINCY
Eh?
VERA [Anxiously]
He means he knows you're not in business.
DAVID
Yes, sir; but is it true you are in pleasure?
QUINCY [Puzzled]
I beg your pardon?
DAVID
Are all the stories the papers print about you true?
QUINCY
All the stories. That's a tall order. Ha! Ha! Ha!
DAVID
Well, anyhow, is it true that--?
VERA
Mr. Quixano! What are you driving at?
QUINCY
Oh, it's rather fun to hear what the masses read about me. Fire ahead. Is what true?
DAVID
That you were married in a balloon?
QUINCY
Ho! Ha! Ha! That's true enough. Marriage in high life, they said, didn't they? Ha! Ha! Ha!
DAVID
And is it true you live in America only two months in the year, and then only to entertain Europeans who wander to these wild parts?
QUINCY
Lucky for you, young man. You'll have an Italian prince and a British duke to hear your scribblings.
DAVID
And the palace where they will hear my scribblings-is it true that--?
VERA [Who has been on pins and needles]
Mr. Quixano, what possible--?
DAVID [Entreatingly holds up a hand.]
Miss Revendal!
[To QUINCY DAVENPORT] Is this palace the same whose grounds were turned into Venetian canals where the guests ate in gondolas-gondolas that were draped with the most wonderful trailing silks in imitation of the Venetian nobility in the great water fêtes?
QUINCY [Turns to VERA]
Ah, Miss Revendal-what a pity you refused that invitation! It was a fairy scene of twinkling lights and delicious darkness-each couple had their own gondola to sup in, and their own side-canal to slip down. Eh? Ha! Ha! Ha!
DAVID
And the same night, women and children died of hunger in New York!
QUINCY [Startled, drops eyeglass.]
Eh?
DAVID [Furiously]
And this is the sort of people you would invite to hear my symphony-these gondola-guzzlers!
VERA
Mr. Quixano!
MENDEL
David!
DAVID
These magnificent animals who went into the gondolas two by two, to feed and flirt!
QUINCY [Dazed]
Sir!
DAVID
I should be a new freak for you for a new freak evening-I and my dreams and my music!
QUINCY
You low-down, ungrateful--
DAVID
Not for you and such as you have I sat here writing and dreaming; not for you who are killing my America!
QUINCY
Your America, forsooth, you Jew-immigrant!
VERA
Mr. Davenport!
DAVID
Yes-Jew-immigrant! But a Jew who knows that your Pilgrim Fathers came straight out of his Old Testament, and that our Jew-immigrants are a greater factor in the glory of this great commonwealth than some of you sons of the soil. It is you, freak-fashionables, who are undoing the work of Washington and Lincoln, vulgarising your high heritage, and turning the last and noblest hope of humanity into a caricature.
QUINCY [Rocking with laughter]
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ho! Ho! Ho!
[To VERA.] You never told me your Jew-scribbler was a socialist!
DAVID
I am nothing but a simple artist, but I come from Europe, one of her victims, and I know that she is a failure; that her palaces and peerages are outworn toys of the human spirit, and that the only hope of mankind lies in a new world. And here-in the land of to-morrow-you are trying to bring back Europe--
QUINCY [Interjecting]
I wish we could!--
DAVID
Europe with her comic-opera coronets and her worm-eaten stage decorations, and her pomp and chivalry built on a morass of crime and misery--
QUINCY [With sneering laugh]
Morass!
DAVID [With prophetic passion]
But you shall not kill my dream! There shall come a fire round the Crucible that will melt you and your breed like wax in a blowpipe--
QUINCY [Furiously, with clenched fist]
You--
DAVID
America shall make good...!
PAPPELMEISTER [Who has sat down and remained imperturbably seated
throughout all this scene, springs up and waves his umbrella
hysterically] Hoch Quixano! Hoch! Hoch! Es lebe Quixano! Hoch!
QUINCY
Poppy! You're dismissed!
PAPPELMEISTER [Goes to DAVID with outstretched hand]
Danke.
[They grip hands. PAPPELMEISTER turns to QUINCY DAVENPORT. ] Comic Opera! Ouf!
QUINCY [Goes to street-door, at white heat.]
Are you coming, Miss Revendal?
[He opens the door.]
VERA [To QUINCY, but not moving]
Pray, pray, accept my apologies-believe me, if I had known--
QUINCY [Furiously]
Then stop with your Jew!
[Exit.]
MENDEL [Frantically]
But, Mr. Davenport-don't go! He is only a boy.
[Exit after QUINCY DAVENPORT.] You must consider--
DAVID
Oh, Herr Pappelmeister, you have lost your place!
PAPPELMEISTER
And saved my soul. Dollars are de devil. Now I must to an appointment. Auf baldiges Wiedersehen.
[He shakes DAVID'S hand.] Fräulein Revendal!
[He takes her hand and kisses it. Exit. DAVID and VERA stand
gazing at each other.]
VERA
What have you done? What have you done?
DAVID
What else could I do?
VERA
I hate the smart set as much as you-but as your ladder and your trumpet--
DAVID
I would not stand indebted to them. I know you meant it for my good, but what would these Europe-apers have understood of my America-the America of my music? They look back on Europe as a pleasure ground, a palace of art-but I know
[Getting hysterical] it is sodden with blood, red with bestial massacres--
VERA [Alarmed, anxious]
Let us talk no more about it.
[She holds out her hand.] Good-bye.
DAVID [Frozen, taking it, holding it]
Ah, you are offended by my ingratitude-I shall never see you again.
VERA
No, I am not offended. But I have failed to help you. We have nothing else to meet for.
[She disengages her hand.]
DAVID
Why will you punish me so? I have only hurt myself.
VERA
It is not a punishment.
DAVID
What else? When you are with me, all the air seems to tremble with fairy music played by some unseen fairy orchestra.
VERA [Tremulous]
And yet you wouldn't come in just now when I--
DAVID
I was too frightened of the others....
VERA [Smiling]
Frightened indeed!
DAVID
Yes, I know I became overbold-but to take all that magic sweetness out of my life for ever-you don't call that a punishment?
VERA [Blushing]
How could I wish to punish you? I was proud of you!
[Drops her eyes, murmurs] Besides it would be punishing myself.
DAVID [I
n passionate amaze]
Miss Revendal!... But no, it cannot be. It is too impossible.
VERA [Frightened]
Yes, too impossible. Good-bye.
[She turns.]
DAVID
But not for always?
[VERA hangs her head. He comes nearer. Passionately] Promise me that you-that I--
[He takes her hand again.]
VERA [Melting at his touch, breathes]
Yes, yes, David.
DAVID
Miss Revendal!
[She falls into his arms.]
VERA
My dear! my dear!
DAVID
It is a dream. You cannot care for me-you so far above me.
VERA
Above you, you simple boy? Your genius lifts you to the stars.
DAVID
No, no; it is you who lift me there--
VERA [Smoothing his hair]
Oh, David. And to think that I was brought up to despise your race.
DAVID [Sadly]
Yes, all Russians are.
VERA
But we of the nobility in particular.
DAVID [Amazed, half-releasing her]
You are noble?
VERA
My father is Baron Revendal, but I have long since carved out a life of my own.
DAVID
Then he will not separate us?
VERA
No.
[Re-embracing him.] Nothing can separate us.
[A knock at the street-door. They separate. The automobile is
heard clattering off.]
DAVID
It is my uncle coming back.
VERA [In low, tense tones]
Then I shall slip out. I could not bear a third. I will write.
[She goes to the door.]
DAVID
Yes, yes ... Vera.
[He follows her to the door. He opens it and she slips out. ]
MENDEL [Half-seen at the door, expostulating]
You, too, Miss Revendal--?
[Re-enters.] Oh, David, you have driven away all your friends.
DAVID [Going to window and looking after VERA]
Not all, uncle. Not all.
[He throws his arms boyishly round his uncle.] I am so happy.
MENDEL
Happy?
DAVID
She loves me-Vera loves me.
MENDEL
Vera?
DAVID
Miss Revendal.
MENDEL
Have you lost your wits?
[He throws DAVID off.]
DAVID
I don't wonder you're amazed. Maybe you think I wasn't. It is as if an angel should stoop down--
MENDEL [Hoarsely]
This is true? This is not some stupid Purim joke?
DAVID
True and sacred as the sunrise.
MENDEL
But you are a Jew!
DAVID
Yes, and just think! She was bred up to despise Jews-her father was a Russian baron--
MENDEL
If she was the daughter of fifty barons, you cannot marry her.
The Melting-Pot Page 5
