Plays - Susan Glaspell
CLAIRE: (_low_) Don't use those words.
ELIZABETH: Why--why not?
CLAIRE: Because you don't know what they mean.
ELIZABETH: Why, of course I know what they mean!
CLAIRE: (_turning away_) You're--stepping on the plants.
HARRY: (_hastily_) Your mother has been working awfully hard at all
this.
ELIZABETH: Well, now that I'm here you'll let me help you, won't you,
mother?
CLAIRE: (_trying for control_) You needn't--bother.
ELIZABETH: But I _want_ to. Help add to the wealth of the world.
CLAIRE: Will you please get it out of your head that I am adding to the
wealth of the world!
ELIZABETH: But, mother--of course you are. To produce a new and better
kind of plant--
CLAIRE: They may be new. I don't give a damn whether they're better.
ELIZABETH: But--but what are they then?
CLAIRE: (_as if choked out of her_) They're different.
ELIZABETH: (_thinks a minute, then laughs triumphantly_) But what's the
use of making them different if they aren't better?
HARRY: A good square question, Claire. Why don't you answer it?
CLAIRE: I don't have to answer it.
HARRY: Why not give the girl a fair show? You never have, you know.
Since she's interested, why not tell her what it is you're doing?
CLAIRE: She is not interested.
ELIZABETH: But I am, mother. Indeed I am. I do want awfully to
understand what you are doing, and help you.
CLAIRE: You can't help me, Elizabeth.
HARRY: Why not let her try?
CLAIRE: Why do you ask me to do that? This is my own thing. Why do you
make me feel I should--(_goes to_ ELIZABETH) I will be good to you,
Elizabeth. We'll go around together. I haven't done it, but--you'll see.
We'll do gay things. I'll have a lot of beaus around for you. Anything
else. Not--this is--Not this.
ELIZABETH: As you like, mother, of course. I just would have been so
glad to--to share the thing that interests you. (_hurt borne with good
breeding and a smile_)
HARRY: Claire! (_which says, 'How can you?'_)
CLAIRE: (_who is looking at_ ELIZABETH) Yes, I will try.
TOM: I don't think so. As Claire says--anything else.
ELIZABETH: Why, of course--I don't at all want to intrude.
HARRY: It'll do Claire good to take someone in. To get down to brass
tacks and actually say what she's driving at.
CLAIRE: Oh--_Harry_. But yes--I will try. (_does try, but no words come.
Laughs_) When you come to say it it's not--One would rather not nail it
to a cross of words--(_laughs again_) with brass tacks.
HARRY: (_affectionately_) But I want to see you put things into words,
Claire, and realize just where you are.
CLAIRE: (_oddly_) You think that's a--good idea?
ELIZABETH: (_in her manner of holding the world capably in her hands_)
Now let's talk of something else. I hadn't the least idea of making
mother feel badly.
CLAIRE: (_desperately_) No, we'll go on. Though I don't know--where
we'll end. I can't answer for that. These plants--(_beginning
flounderingly_) Perhaps they are less beautiful--less sound--than the
plants from which they diverged. But they have found--otherness,
(_laughs a little shrilly_) If you know--what I mean.
TOM: Claire--stop this! (_To_ HARRY) This is wrong.
CLAIRE: (_excitedly_) No; I'm going on. They have been shocked out of
what they were--into something they were not; they've broken from the
forms in which they found themselves. They are alien. Outside. That's
it, outside; if you--know what I mean.
ELIZABETH: (_not shocked from what she is_) But of course, the object of
it all is to make them better plants. Otherwise, what would be the sense
of doing it?
CLAIRE: (_not reached by_ ELIZABETH) Out there--(_giving it with her
hands_) lies all that's not been touched--lies life that waits. Back
here--the old pattern, done again, again and again. So long done it
doesn't even know itself for a pattern--in immensity. But this--has
invaded. Crept a little way into--what wasn't. Strange lines in life
unused. And when you make a pattern new you know a pattern's made with
life. And then you know that anything may be--if only you know how to
reach it. (_this has taken form, not easily, but with great struggle
between feeling and words_)
HARRY: (_cordially_) Now I begin to get you, Claire. I never knew before
why you called it the Edge Vine.
CLAIRE: I should destroy the Edge Vine. It isn't--over the edge. It's
running, back to--'all the girls'. It's a little afraid of Miss Lane,
(_looking sombrely at it_) You are out, but you are not alive.
ELIZABETH: Why, it looks all right, mother.
CLAIRE: Didn't carry life with it from the life it left. Dick--you know
what I mean. At least you ought to. (_her ruthless way of not letting
anyone's feelings stand in the way of truth_) Then destroy it for me!
It's hard to do it--with the hands that made it.
DICK: But what's the point in destroying it, Claire?
CLAIRE: (_impatiently_) I've told you. It cannot create.
DICK: But you say you can go on producing it, and it's interesting in
form.
CLAIRE: And you think I'll stop with that? Be shut in--with different
life--that can't creep on? (_after trying to put destroying hands upon
it_) It's hard to--get past what we've done. Our own dead things--block
the way.
TOM: But you're doing it this next time, Claire, (_nodding to the inner
room_.) In there!
CLAIRE: (_turning to that room_) I'm not sure.
TOM: But you told me Breath of Life has already produced itself. Doesn't
that show it has brought life from the life it left?
CLAIRE: But timidly, rather--wistfully. A little homesick. If it is less
sure this time, then it is going back to--Miss Lane. But if the
pattern's clearer now, then it has made friends of life that waits. I'll
know to-morrow.
ELIZABETH: You know, something tells me this is _wrong_.
CLAIRE: The hymn-singing ancestors are tuning up.
ELIZABETH: I don't know what you mean by that, mother but--
CLAIRE: But we will now sing, 'Nearer, my God, to Thee: Nearer to--'
ELIZABETH: (_laughingly breaking in_) Well, I don't care. Of course you
can make fun at me, but something does tell me this is wrong. To do
what--what--
DICK: What God did?
ELIZABETH: Well--yes. Unless you do it to make them better--to _do_ it
just to do it--that doesn't seem right to me.
CLAIRE: (_roughly_) 'Right to you!' And that's all you know of
adventure--and of anguish. Do you know it is you--world of which you're
so true a flower--makes me have to leave? You're there to hold the door
shut! Because you're young and of a gayer world, you think I can't _see_
them--those old men? Do you know why you're so sure of yourself? Because
you can't _feel_. Can't feel--the limitless--out there--a sea just over
the hill. I will not stay with you! (_buries her hands in the earth
around the Edge Vine. But suddenly steps back from it as she had from_
ELIZABETH) And I will not stay with _you! (grasps it as we grasp what we
would kill, is trying to pull it up. They all step forward in horror.
ANTHONY is drawn in by this harm to the plant_)
ANTHONY: Miss Claire! Miss Claire! The work of years!
CLAIRE: May only make a prison! (_struggling with_ HARRY, _who is trying
to stop her_) You think I too will die on the edge? (_she has thrown him
away, is now struggling with the vine_) Why did I make you? To get past
you! (_as she twists it_) Oh yes, I know you have thorns! The Edge Vine
should have thorns, (_with a long tremendous pull for deep roots, she
has it up. As she holds the torn roots_) Oh, I have loved you so! You
took me where I hadn't been.
ELIZABETH: (_who has been looking on with a certain practical horror_)
Well, I'd say it would be better not to go there!
CLAIRE: Now I know what you are for! (_flings her arm back to strike_
ELIZABETH _with the Edge Vine_)
HARRY: (_wresting it from her_) Claire! Are you mad?
CLAIRE: No, I'm not mad. I'm--too sane! (_pointing to_ ELIZABETH--_and
the words come from mighty roots_) To think that object ever moved my
belly and sucked my breast! (ELIZABETH _hides her face as if struck_)
HARRY: (_going to_ ELIZABETH, _turning to_ CLAIRE) This is atrocious!
You're cruel.
(_He leads_ ELIZABETH _to the door and out. After an irresolute moment
in which he looks from_ CLAIRE _to_ TOM, DICK _follows._ ANTHONY _cannot
bear to go. He stoops to take the Edge Vine from the floor._ CLAIRE's
_gesture stops him. He goes into the inner room._)
CLAIRE: (_kicking the Edge Vine out of her way, drawing deep breaths,
smiling_) O-h. How good I feel! Light! (_a movement as if she could
fly_) Read me something, Tom dear. Or say something pleasant--about God.
But be very careful what you say about him! I have a feeling--he's not
far off.
CURTAIN
ACT II
_Late afternoon of the following day._ CLAIRE _is alone in the tower--a
tower which is thought to be round but does not complete the circle. The
back is curved, then jagged lines break from that, and the front is a
queer bulging window--in a curve that leans. The whole structure is as
if given a twist by some terrific force--like something wrong. It is
lighted by an old-fashioned watchman's lantern hanging from the ceiling;
the innumerable pricks and slits in the metal throw a marvellous pattern
on the curved wall--like some masonry that hasn't been.
There are no windows at back, and there is no door save an opening in
the floor. The delicately distorted rail of a spiral staircase winds up
from below._ CLAIRE _is seen through the huge ominous window as if shut
into the tower. She is lying on a seat at the back looking at a book of
drawings. To do this she has left the door of her lantern a little
open--and her own face is clearly seen.
A door is heard opening below; laughing voices,_ CLAIRE _listens, not
pleased._
ADELAIDE: (_voice coming up_) Dear--dear, why do they make such
twisting steps.
HARRY: Take your time, most up now. (HARRY_'s head appears, he looks
back._) Making it all right?
ADELAIDE: I can't tell yet. (_laughingly_) No, I don't think so.
HARRY: (_reaching back a hand for her_) The last lap--is the bad lap.
(ADELAIDE _is up, and occupied with getting her breath._)
HARRY: Since you wouldn't come down, Claire, we thought we'd come up.
ADELAIDE: (_as_ CLAIRE _does not greet her_) I'm sorry to intrude, but I
have to see you, Claire. There are things to be arranged. (CLAIRE
_volunteering nothing about arrangements,_ ADELAIDE _surveys the tower.
An unsympathetic eye goes from the curves to the lines which diverge.
Then she looks from the window_) Well, at least you have a view.
HARRY: This is the first time you've been up here?
ADELAIDE: Yes, in the five years you've had the house I was never asked
up here before.
CLAIRE: (_amiably enough_) You weren't asked up here now.
ADELAIDE: Harry asked me.
CLAIRE: It isn't Harry's tower. But never mind--since you don't like
it--it's all right.
ADELAIDE: (_her eyes again rebuking the irregularities of the tower_)
No, I confess I do not care for it. A round tower should go on being
round.
HARRY: Claire calls this the thwarted tower. She bought the house
because of it. (_going over and sitting by her, his hand on her ankle_)
Didn't you, old girl? She says she'd like to have known the architect.
ADELAIDE: Probably a tiresome person too incompetent to make a perfect
tower.
CLAIRE: Well, now he's disposed of, what next?
ADELAIDE: (_sitting down in a manner of capably opening a conference_)
Next, Elizabeth, and you, Claire. Just what is the matter with
Elizabeth?
CLAIRE: (_whose voice is cool, even, as if herself is not really engaged
by this_) Nothing is the matter with her. She is a tower that is a
tower.
ADELAIDE: Well, is that anything against her?
CLAIRE: She's just like one of her father's portraits. They never
interested me. Nor does she. (_looks at the drawings which do interest
her_)
ADELAIDE: A mother cannot cast off her own child simply because she does
not interest her!
CLAIRE: (_an instant raising cool eyes to_ ADELAIDE) Why can't she?
ADELAIDE: Because it would be monstrous!
CLAIRE: And why can't she be monstrous--if she has to be?
ADELAIDE: You don't have to be. That's where I'm out of patience with
you Claire. You are really a particularly intelligent, competent person,
and it's time for you to call a halt to this nonsense and be the woman
you were meant to be!
CLAIRE: (_holding the book up to see another way_) What inside dope have
you on what I was meant to be?
ADELAIDE: I know what you came from.
CLAIRE: Well, isn't it about time somebody got loose from that? What I
came from made you, so--
ADELAIDE: (_stiffly_) I see.
CLAIRE: So--you being such a tower of strength, why need I too be
imprisoned in what I came from?
ADELAIDE: It isn't being imprisoned. Right there is where you make your
mistake, Claire. Who's in a tower--in an unsuccessful tower? Not I. I go
about in the world--free, busy, happy. Among people, I have no time to
think of myself.
CLAIRE: No.
ADELAIDE: No. My family. The things that interest them; from morning
till night it's--
CLAIRE: Yes, I know you have a large family, Adelaide; five and
Elizabeth makes six.
ADELAIDE: We'll speak of Elizabeth later. But if you would just get out
of yourself and enter into other people's lives--
CLAIRE: Then I would become just like you. And we should all be just
alike in order to assure one another that we're all just right. But
since you and Harry and Elizabeth and ten million other people bolster
each other up, why do you especially need me?
ADELAIDE: (_not unkindly_) We don't need you as much as you need us.
CLAIRE: (_a wry face_) I never liked what I needed.
HARRY: I am convinced I am the worst thing in the world for you, Claire.
CLAIRE: (_with a smile for his tactics, but shaking her head_) I'm
afraid you're not. I don't know--perhaps you are.
ADELAIDE: Well, what is it you want, Claire?
CLAIRE: (_simply_) You wouldn't know if I told you.
ADELAIDE: That's rather arrogant.
HARRY: Yes, take a chance, Claire. I have been known to get an idea--and
Adelaide quite frequently gets one.
CLAIRE: (_the first resentment she has shown_) You two feel very
superior, don't you?
ADELAIDE: I don't think we are the ones who are feeling superior.
CLAIRE: Oh, yes, you are. Very superior to what you think is my feeling
of superiority, comparing my--isolation with your 'heart of humanity'.
Soon we will speak of the beauty of common experiences, of the--Oh, I
could say it all before we come to it.
HARRY: Adelaide came up here to help you, Claire.
CLAIRE: Adelaide came up here to lock me in. Well, she can't do it.
ADELAIDE: (_gently_) But can't you see that one may do that to one's
self?
CLAIRE: (_thinks of this, looks suddenly tired--then smiles_) Well, at
least I've changed the keys.
HARRY: 'Locked in.' Bunkum. Get that our of your head, Claire. Who's
locked in? Nobody that I know of, we're all free Americans. Free as air.
ADELAIDE: I wish you'd come and hear one of Mr Morley's sermons, Claire.
You're very old-fashioned if you think sermons are what they used to be.
CLAIRE: (_with interest_) And do they still sing 'Nearer, my God, to
Thee'?
ADELAIDE: They do, and a noble old hymn it is. It would do you no harm
at all to sing it.
CLAIRE: (_eagerly_) Sing it to me, Adelaide. I'd like to hear you sing
it.
ADELAIDE: It would be sacrilege to sing it to you in this mood.
CLAIRE: (_falling back_) Oh, I don't know. I'm not so sure God would
agree with you. That would be one on you, wouldn't it?
ADELAIDE: It's easy to feel one's self set apart!
CLAIRE: No, it isn't.
ADELAIDE: (_beginning anew_) It's a new age, Claire. Spiritual values--
CLAIRE: Spiritual values! (_in her brooding way_) So you have pulled
that up. (_with cunning_) Don't think I don't know what it is you do.
ADELAIDE: Well, what do I do? I'm sure I have no idea what you're
talking about.
HARRY: (_affectionately, as_ CLAIRE _is looking with intentness at what
he does not see_) What does she do, Claire?
CLAIRE: It's rather clever, what she does. Snatching the phrase--(_a
movement as if pulling something up_) standing it up between her
and--the life that's there. And by saying it enough--'We have life! We
have life! We have life!' Very good come-back at one who would really
be--'Just so! _We_ are that. Right this way, please--'That, I suppose is
what we mean by needing each other. All join in the chorus, 'This is it!
This is it! This is it!' And anyone who won't join is to be--visited by
relatives, (_regarding_ ADELAIDE _with curiosity_) Do you really think
that anything is going on in you?
ADELAIDE: (_stiffly_) I am not one to hold myself up as a perfect
example of what the human race may be.
CLAIRE: (_brightly_) Well, that's good.
HARRY: Claire!
CLAIRE: Humility's a _real_ thing--not just a fine name for laziness.
HARRY: Well, Lord A'mighty, you can't call Adelaide lazy.
CLAIRE: She stays in one place because she hasn't the energy to go
anywhere else.
ADELAIDE: (_as if the last word in absurdity has been said) I_ haven't
energy?
CLAIRE: (_mildly_) You haven't any energy at all, Adelaide. That's why
you keep so busy.
ADELAIDE: _Well_--Claire's nerves are in a worse state than I had
realized.
CLAIRE: So perhaps we'd better look at Blake's drawings, (_takes up the
book_)
ADELAIDE: It would be all right for me to look at Blake's drawings.
You'd better look at the Sistine Madonna, (_affectionately, after she
has watched_ CLAIRE_'s face a moment_) What is it, Claire? Why do you
shut yourself out from us?
CLAIRE: I told you. Because I do not want to be shut in with you.
ADELAIDE: All of this is not very pleasant for Harry.
HARRY: I want Claire to be gay.
CLAIRE: Funny--you should want that, (_speaks unwillingly, a curious,
wistful unwillingness_) Did you ever say a preposterous thing, then go
trailing after the thing you've said and find it wasn't so preposterous?
Here is the circle we are in._describes a big circle_) Being gay. It
shoots little darts through the circle, and a minute later--gaiety all
gone, and you looking through that little hole the gaiety left.
ADELAIDE: (_going to her, as she is still looking through that little
hole_) Claire, dear, I wish I could make you feel how much I care for
you. (_simply, with real feeling_) You can call me all the names you
like--dull, commonplace, lazy--that is a new idea, I confess, but the
rest of our family's gone now, and the love that used to be there
between us all--the only place for it now is between you and me. You
were so much loved, Claire. You oughtn't to try and get away from a
world in which you are so much loved, (_to_ HARRY) Mother--father--all
of us, always loved Claire best. We always loved Claire's queer gaiety.
Now you've got to hand it to us for that, as the children say.
CLAIRE: (_moved, but eyes shining with a queer bright loneliness_) But
never one of you--once--looked with me through the little pricks the
gaiety made--never one of you--once, looked with me at the queer light
that came in through the pricks.
ADELAIDE: And can't you see, dear, that it's better for us we didn't?
And that it would be better for you now if you would just resolutely
look somewhere else? You must see yourself that you haven't the poise of
people who are held--well, within the circle, if you choose to put it
that way. There's something about being in that main body, having one's
roots in the big common experiences, gives a calm which you have missed.
That's _why_ I want you to take Elizabeth, forget yourself, and--
CLAIRE: I do want calm. But mine would have to be a calm I--worked my
way to. A calm all prepared for me--would stink.
ADELAIDE: (_less sympathetically_) I know you have to be yourself,
Claire. But I don't admit you have a right to hurt other people.
HARRY: I think Claire and I had better take a nice long trip.
ADELAIDE: Now why don't you?
CLAIRE: I am taking a trip.
ADELAIDE: Well, Harry isn't, and he'd like to go and wants you to go
with him. Go to Paris and get yourself some awfully good-looking
clothes--and have one grand fling at the gay world. You really love
that, Claire, and you've been awfully dull lately. I think that's the
whole trouble.
HARRY: I think so too.
ADELAIDE: This sober business of growing plants--
CLAIRE: Not sober--it's mad.
ADELAIDE: All the more reason for quitting it.
CLAIRE: But madness that is the only chance for sanity.
ADELAIDE: Come, come, now--let's not juggle words.
CLAIRE: (_springing up_) How dare you say that to me, Adelaide. You who
are such a liar and thief and whore with words!
ADELAIDE: (_facing her, furious_) How _dare_ you--
HARRY: Of course not, Claire. You have the most preposterous way of
using words.
CLAIRE: I respect words.
ADELAIDE: Well, you'll please respect me enough not to dare use certain
words to me!
CLAIRE: Yes, I do dare. I'm tired of what you do--you and all of you.
Life--experience--values--calm--sensitive words which raise their heads
as indications. And you _pull them up_--to decorate your stagnant little
minds--and think that makes you--And because you have pulled that word
from the life that grew it you won't let one who's honest, and aware,
and troubled, try to reach through to--to what she doesn't know is
there, (_she is moved, excited, as if a cruel thing has been done_) Why
did you come here?
ADELAIDE: To try and help you. But I begin to fear I can't do it. It's
pretty egotistical to claim that what so many people are, is wrong.
(_CLAIRE, after looking intently at ADELAIDE, slowly, smiling a little,
describes a circle. With deftly used hands makes a quick vicious break
in the circle which is there in the air._)
HARRY: (_going to her, taking her hands_) It's getting close to
dinner-time. You were thinking of something else, Claire, when I told
you Charlie Emmons was coming to dinner to-night, (_answering her look_)
Sure--he is a neurologist, and I want him to see you. I'm perfectly
honest with you--cards all on the table, you know that. I'm hoping if
you like him--and he's the best scout in the world, that he can help
you. (_talking hurriedly against the stillness which follows her look
from him to ADELAIDE, where she sees between them an 'understanding'
about her_) Sure you need help, Claire. Your nerves are a little on the
blink--from all you've been doing. No use making a mystery of it--or a
tragedy. Emmons is a cracker-jack, and naturally I want you to get a
move on yourself and be happy again.
CLAIRE: (_who has gone over to the window_) And this neurologist can
make me happy?
HARRY: Can make you well--and then you'll be happy.
ADELAIDE: (_in the voice of now fixing it all up_) And I had just an
idea about Elizabeth. Instead of working with mere plants, why not think
of Elizabeth as a plant and--
(CLAIRE, _who has been looking out of the window, now throws open one of
the panes that swings out--or seems to, and calls down in great
excitement._)
CLAIRE: Tom! _Tom!_ Quick! Up here! I'm in trouble!
HARRY: (_going to the window_) That's a rotten thing to do, Claire!
You've frightened him.
CLAIRE: Yes, how fast he can run. He was deep in thought and I stabbed
right through.
HARRY: Well, he'll be none too pleased when he gets up here and finds
there was no reason for the stabbing!
(_They wait for his footsteps,_ HARRY _annoyed,_ ADELAIDE _offended, but
stealing worried looks at_ CLAIRE, _who is looking fixedly at the place
in the floor where_ TOM _will appear.--Running footsteps._)
TOM: (_his voice getting there before he does_) Yes,
Claire--yes--yes--(_as his head appears_) What is it?
CLAIRE: (_at once presenting him and answering his question_) My sister.
TOM: (_gasping_) Oh,--why--is that all? I mean--how do you do? Pardon, I
(_panting_) came up--rather hurriedly.
HARRY: If you want to slap Claire, Tom, I for one have no objection.
CLAIRE: Adelaide has the most interesting idea, Tom. She proposes that I
take Elizabeth and roll her in the gutter. Just let her lie there until
she breaks up into--
ADELAIDE: _Claire!_ I don't see how--even in fun--pretty vulgar fun--you
can speak in those terms of a pure young girl. I'm beginning to think I
had better take Elizabeth.
CLAIRE: Oh, I've thought that all along.
ADELAIDE: And I'm also beginning to suspect that--oddity may be just a
way of shifting responsibility.
CLAIRE: (_cordially interested in this possibility_) Now you know--that
might be.
ADELAIDE: A mother who does not love her own child! You are an unnatural
woman, Claire.
CLAIRE: Well, at least it saves me from being a natural one.
ADELAIDE: Oh--I know, you think you have a great deal! But let me tell
you, you've missed a great deal! You've never known the faintest
stirring of a mother's love.
CLAIRE: That's not true.
HARRY: No. Claire loved our boy.
CLAIRE: I'm glad he didn't live.
HARRY: (_low_) Claire!
CLAIRE: I loved him. Why should I want him to live?
HARRY: Come, dear, I'm sorry I spoke of him--when you're not feeling
well.
CLAIRE: I'm feeling all right. _Just_ because I'm seeing something, it
doesn't mean I'm sick.
HARRY: Well, let's go down now. About dinner-time. I shouldn't wonder if
Emmons were here. (_as ADELAIDE is starting down stairs_) Coming,
Claire?