Modern Drama—Stirring Plays of the Hour.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLIV, Issue 26, 29 June 1910, Page 49

Modern Drama —Stirring Plays of the Hour.

THE BATTLE—STEPHEN MOFFETT'S CONTROVERSIAL PLAY.

FEW plays within recent years have aroused more discussion than Cleveland Moffett’s dramatic portrayal of the battle waged between capitalistic endeavour and Socialist ideals in a filthy tenement in the most crowded part of New York. The love-motive also enters strongly, but the interest of the audience is centred on the principal conflict. There are obvious suggestions of John D. Rockefeller in the principal character of the play. John J. llaggleton is an oil magnate, and in his lines are incorporated utterances from several of Mr. Rockefeller’s authentic speeches. There are also references to “the System.” But in personal appearance Haggleton, as impersonated, bears little or no resemblance to Mr. Rockefeller, and in the details of their lives the oil-king of the play and the real oil-king are very dissimilar. The play is probably accepted by nine out of ten of its hearers as a satire on Socialism. It is possible that its author so intended it, and one of the leading Socialists in New York created a sensation at one of the first presentations by rising in his seat in the audience between aets and endeavouring to give a Socialistic speech in reply. As a matter of fact, however, much of Haggleton’s philosophy, which puts to confusion the Socialist characters, is closely parallel to the tenets of the

Socialists of to-day, who hold that the trust is a necessary step of progress towards the Socialist goal, who ridicule as futile the efforts of tenement house reformers, and who lay unending stress upon the necessity for a war between classes, as voiced in one of the most telling of Haggleton’s speeches. The first act of Mr. Moffett’s play takes place in Moran’s tenement on Market-street. Moran, formerly an independent business man, ousted by the “system, 5 ’ works now for nine dollars a week as a baker; he also takes boarders. The living room is a wretched place, with a floor of ba»re boards partly covered with bits of tattered carpet. The furniture is battered and broken. At the back are two windows with a view' of Brooklyn Bridge. The windows are covered with cheap lace curtains holding the dust of years. Enter John J. Haggleton! The oil magnate, two hours before his intended departure for a long cruise on his private yacht, has come to this tenement, owned by him, to meet a mild-mannered person of Socialistic tendencies called Gentle. Haggleton is described as a man of large frame, spare built, pale; his mouth is wide, his lips flexible, close shut, and clean-shaven. He fe wrinkled, bald, and ill, yet one feels the spirit of an extraordinary personality in his presence. In him and about him seems to breathe the spirit of domination. He is not,

however, at least for the present, to dominate Gentle. It appears that many years ago Haggleton’s wife had deserted him with his son Philip because she disapproved of his crooked business methods. It had been Gentle’s good fortune to assist her, and to help bring up Philip, with militantly altruistic ideas. On her deathbed she had entrusted Gentle with certain papers which made it possible for that individual to dictate to Haggleton. Philip, who earns his own living—a good living at as a master diver, is ignorant of his father’s name. In Gentle’s opinion, however, the time has now come to open his eyes to his parent’s identity and shame. He has determined that Philip is to meet his famous father at first without being told of the bond between them. “I must put my promise to his mother,” he rehiarks to Haggleton, “before your feelings. I’ve trained him for a battle with you—a great battle that’s coming now, and I’ll see that the start , is fair—a battle between you and money and his high purpose. You’ll try to tempt him. That’s why I’ve waited. He’s only 26, and he’s your son.” At this moment Philip enters. Gentle introduces Haggleton as Mr. Jackson—connected in business with Mr. Haggleton. Philip (incredulous): You know him personally? You can’t know him personally? Gentle: Mr Jackson is associated with, him in business, and has been helping Mr Haggleton in schemes for tenement improvements. Philip: I’d like to tell Mr llaggleton a few things about tenement improvements. Haggleton: What? Philip (aroused): I’d tell him he owns blocks and blocks on the lower east side which are in such a lovely state that he might as well be running a factory for turning out (He cheeks himself.) What’s the use? llaggleton: Go on. A factory for turning out — Philip (slowly, looking llaggleton full in face): Thieves and —drunkards and —wrecks of women. (lie pauses a moment, and then bursts out furiously.) My God! why can’t mon be decent? llaggleton: Mr llaggleton has rooms to rent and these people rent them. Philip: What a rotten idea! Dio and steal, plunder people and break their hearts, and,

if you say "business is business,” then it is aa light Gentle (rubbing his bauds): Ab! Haggleton: You’ve been reading the muckrakers. Philip: Why not? Haggleton: All rich mon are robbers, eb? Philip: I don’t cay that. Haggleton: If 1 had a daughter, she’d be a princess? Philip: Probably. llaggleton: And my son would be a fool? Philip: No doubt. llaggleton: Anti reformers care nothing about money? The editor of the Socialist paper lakes no Interest in his salary, eh? Philip: Even reformers have to live. Haggleton (grimly): Usten to me. young man. There isn’t a reformer in this country who wouldn’t stop reforming damned quick if he found it was hurting his pocket book. Philip (with tire): That’s false! Besides, it has nothing to do with the question. The question is. where do yon get your money, you rich men? Do you earn it? Do you dig it out of the ground? No. You get it by the toil of men. by the tears of women and children. You get it by grinding human beings down to starvation wages and taking the rest, millions and millions that belong to the workers, but go into your fat pockets because you’re strong enough and cruel enough to take it. (There is a knock at door.) Ami that’s how you get such placet) as Lung Blink and such monsters as John J llaggleton. Grimes (Haggleton’s secretary—entering): Mr Haggleton (looks at watch, takes «'IY hat.) You’ve only got a few minutes if you want to sail with the tide. Haggleton (impatiently, to Grimes): When I want you I’ll send for you! Grimes (flustered): I’m sorry, sir. Haggleton (cutting him short): That will do. (Grimes goes out in confusion.) Philip (to Haggleton): He called you Mr Haggleton! llaggleton: Weil? Philip (astonished): Are you—Mr Haggleton ? Haggleton: That’s my name. Philip: But - — (to Gentle.) Did you think his name was Jackson? •Gentle (shaking his head, explaining): I — I— There was a reason for introducing Mr llaggleton in that way. Haggleton: A very simple reason. I want to study tenement conditions without newspaper notoriety. Philip: Oh! Haggleton: Now’ if you’ll go on with what you were saying—— Philip: What’s the use? You can’t tackle the problems of poverty while your yacht waits—Mr llaggleton. Haggleton: I can give certain orders, can’t I? I can authorise certain improvements'. Now talk quick! Philip: That's tl»e way with you rich, people—you think you can settle anything

by signing a cheque. Well, you can't do It! The only real help for •><<■ P" or comes plough "love. and %u can't pay someone to love for you. You might » 8 >’* sa S?» *.» r-XSS.SffixRS thinking hlilg’else.’and is weighing the pr<» and eons before coming >m portant decision.) After » w i in are not a lot of misfortunes worth loving I hej hrmg in< e man tenant started In a toneincut myself. , Phl'X changed since lt? :, <h^rae^7Sc"’ t no7 , Y^e , rel"v S SpitaTand their atu t hen abilities. A POvXSust as well to-day as “ViX incredulous): A .nan like Moran? llaggleton: Who's Morant Philip: He's your tenant here. Iles a b Gentle: He had a small oil business in the West. Your System closed him up. philin- Now he's a baker. (liaggieton gets up and walks about the Toom thinking hard. Gentle watches him CU Haggleton (sharply): He can’t be much good if this is the way he keeps his house. Philip: He's half sick. Haggleton: Half sick? So am I half Bilk. That’s why the doctors have ordered me away on this yachting trip. (He continues to walk back and forth.) How much does Moran earn? Philip: Nine dollars a week. Haggleton (after a pai.se): Do you know what I’d do in Moran's place? Philip: Yes. In Moran's place you d do about the same as he does. llaggleton: Yon think so? ' Philip: I’m sure of it. . llaggleton (Half to himself.) If I only had time! (Long pause while he walks about the room, glancing keenly at Ih.llp now and then.) Does this junk belong to Moran? Philip: Yes. llaggleton (studying furniture): Not a bad iold hat stand, but it’s in the way. We ought to get something on these marble clocks. And we don’t need this sewing machine. -Hm! - (He continues -to walk about absorbed in his thoughts.) We ought to (get thirty dollars for useless stuff in this room. Philip: Wh<V ate you driving at? liaggieton JxSee here; 'are. you two willing to let me prove this proposition? (Haggleton’s manner is confident,-, his .eyes-flash with authority; he is quite a master,-of the situation.) Gentle (with meaning):. I am willing! Philip: I don’t understand. llaggleton: Get mo some paper. I want to write the captain of my yacht to tel! him to sail at once as arranged, without me. Gentle and Philip: Without you? llaggleton (to Genfie): I’m going to Impose secrecy on him and you! Philip (in amazement): You’re not going on the yacht? .

Haggleton (slowly and impressively): No. I’m going to stay here.' I’m going to win a little bet I’ve made with your friend, Mr. Gentle. And I’m going to show, you what I would do if I had to hustle in a tenement without a dollar. One week elapses between the first and the second act, but in this brief period a wonderful transformation has taken place in the flat. Rubbish has been cleared away, the floor covered with matting, and the windows are hung with neat white curtains. The occupants of the rooms, too, are considerably improved in appearance. Joe, a good for nothing sort of a chap, frequenting pool rooms and cheap cafes, has been aroused to industry, and even Jenny, Moran’s daughter, feels the beneficent influence of the new regime. She is a girl who, upon the loss of her husband, had gone to the bad, until her love for Philip checked her deviations from the primrose path. Philip, however, is in love •with Margaret, a nurse, whose father, like so many others, had been one of the oil king’s victims. Haggleton has meanwhile formed an organisation for the control of the East side baker shops, and Philip, despite his socialistic leanings, takes a lively interest in the endeavour. The following conversation takes place between Haggleton and Gentle: Gentle: Philip is demoralised. I hardly know him. Haggleton: You’ve never known him. You’re just getting acquainted with him. lie’s my son. (Looking at picture.) Gentle (shaking his head): It’s a temporary infatuation. He is fascinated by the Idea that John J. liaggieton has done this extraordinary thing. 'Haggleton: Yes, and he’ll be more fascinated when he knows why John J. Haggleton did it. Gentle: And why did you do it? Haggleton (reflectively): Why did I do It? Don’t you know? Gentle: It was a clever move. liaggieton (shaking his head): No. It turned out to be a clever move. I’m gaining ground with the boy every day; but that’s not why I did it. I’m sixty years old, Mr. Gentle, and used to my comforts. Do you think I’d stand all this because it was a clever move? No, sir; I stayed down here on account of a few little words that my son fired at me. Remember? Maybe you didn’t notice. He looked me straight in ..the ,eyes, and he said: “You.’ve got to do your loving yourself!” By God! that hit me hard? I’ve beep -up against .Jough In my life, and made some quick decisions, but I never djd anything that. surprised me as much as I’m not gettthg sentimental.; I’m gpiiig to fight you fftr all I’m worth, Mr. Gentlef but yovtwe played your laSt card atfd tord-.this boyVtfie worst you can. tell abojit me., then anyhow he’s got”,to know that his father came down here and lived in a tenement—(slowly and impressively)—because he wanted to do his loving himself. Gentle: All that does yon honour, sif'* and yet you would influence Philip to be hard and selfish. ITaggleton: I want him to be a fine business man. ; - Genfle (slowly): I want him to be a fine man.

“Here,” solemnly said the Bostonian, ’'General Warren fell.” “Bo?” replied the gentleman from Chicago, running a speculative eye up and down the perpendicular of Bunker Hill monument. ‘'Must have been a swell subject for a moving-picture act.”

liaggieton: H’m! As far as that goes, I don’t expect my son to be a business man and nothing else. I’m glad to have him study these problems of poverty and salve them, if he can. All 1 ask is that you and he be reasonable. Suppose we draw up a plan that will satisfy all of us. I won’t give a dollar for sloppy, sentimental nonsense, but I’ll put up a million—two millions—five millions—if we can work out some sound scheme of public betterment! Gentle (impressed): Five millions! Haggleton: Yes, sir. And I should want the work of carrying out such a scheme —• the executive work—to be in your hands. Gentle (surprised): In my nands? liaggieton: Precisely. You’re honest, and you mean to do right. That’s a whole lot in these days. (Pause.) It’s a great chance for you. . Gentle: Then Philip would know_ bis father? liaggieton: Of course. Gentle: And his mother? What about her. Haggleton (studying Gentle keenly): We will tell Philip there was trouble years ago between his mother and me. I’m willing to admit I was much in the wrong—absorbed in business —too keen about money. That ought to fix it. Gentle: Oh, no! “Suppose,” Haggleton rejoins, “Philip preferred not to see this statement. You would advise against it. wouldn’t you? Gentle hesitates. The interview is interrupted by Philip’s entrance. Haggleton (to Philip): How many bakers have come into the combination? Philip: Six, so far; but we can get more. Haggleton: Get more? Within ten days all the little bakers on the East side will be tumbling over themselves to get in. Philip: They’ve got to come in or Gentle: Or—or what? (Pauses.) Philip: Or go out of business. Gentle (gravely to Philip): Do you realise that you are building up a little trust: That you will turn men out of work? Philip: A few men. But we’ll give better bread and cheaper bread to the whole East side. Haggleton (pleased): Ah! And incidentally I’ll prove a poor man like Moran can conquer these tenement conditions if he has any gumption. That’s what I started out to do, and I’m doing it. Philip: Yes, you’re doing it; but why are you doing it? Haggleton: You’ll know that before long. The point is, in a month we’ll have a prosperous business going on here. (He thinks.) Ah, we’d better take that empty flat across the hall for sleeping rooms; we’ll need this one for offices. Philip: I suppose we will. liaggieton: In a week you’ll see Joe Caffrey at work in a clean shirt with pool rooms cut out, and Moran will stop kicking. Gentle: I doubt that. ; Haggleton: As long as a man has no money he’s a kicker about the Wrongs of the poor. Give him some money -arid he stops kicking. That’s why Socialists ; are poor. Gentle: Some Socialists are rich. Haggleton: Yes. parlour Socialists; but they never earned the money themselves. And I notice they hang on to it all right. Philip (at the table, signing contracts): The main point is that things in this country are not fair between the rich and the poor. 'liaggieton: I tell you the men of this generation arfe entering into a heritage which makes their fathers’ lives look poverty stricken by comparison.

Gentle: A heritage? What sort of a heritage? Boundless wealth and power for a few, boundless misery for millions! In the splendour of Fifth-avenue you forget the slums—you forget hunger, unemployment, the. black list, and disease and slaughter, tog. Remember that your railroads and inmistries destroy more men every year than were killed and wounded in the whole Civil War. liaggieton (emphatically): Our industries have built up this country. Gentle (indignant): It’s the superiority of the American that has built up the country, sir. And. you and your industries oppress and rob and slaughter the people, exploited for your own selfish interests. Haggleton (snapping his fingers): We’re in business to make money. Philip: Ah! you admit that? Haggleton: Certainly. It's true. It always has been true, and it always will be true. You can’t expect one class to fight the battle of another class. Why should they? Do you fight our battles? If you want us to run our railroads, mines, and factories in a certain way, it’s up to you to make us do it. You’ve got numbers and votes; we’ve got money and organisation. Well, there you are; it’s a fight class against class; you want to get rid of your grievances, we want to keep our privileges. Now go ahead, make laws, inspect our books, learn our secrets, put us in gaol, do something, everything; but if you can’t do anything, keep still, take your medicine, and don’t come whining to us to play your game for you; we’ll never do it —never; we’re too busy playing our own game. Moran (enters): Jackson, I want to see you! (Scowling at Haggleton.) You think you can grab the whole bakeshop business of the East side and throw hundreds of men like me out of work! Philip: Men like you? Moran: Yes, sir; men like me! My boss has joined your combination, and I’ve had notice to quit. It’s an outrage! (He turns fiercely to Haggleton.) I say to you Philip: Hold on! (Stops.) Haggleton (to Philip): Let me talk to him. (To Moran.) See here, this combination is a good thing. Moran: It’s a d monopoly. Haggleton (aside to Gentle): You watch him. (To Moran.) We’ll make better bread iand cheaper bread than has ever been sold on the East side. Moran (oratorical manner): Yes, and you’ll ruin homes in every street; you’ll starve little children; you'll break the hearts of struggling mothers. Haggleton: We’re going to make a lot of money. Moran: Blood money. Any man who would touch a penny of it is a low hound. Haggleton: I’m sorry, you feel that way. I had picked you out as assistant manager. Moran: Assistant manager! Haggleton: With a salary of eighteen dollars a week. Moran (overwhelmed): Eighteen dollars a week! Haggleton: Of course, I can't ask you to take it, knowing how. you feel. Moran (dazed): Eighteen dollars a week! For me? Haggleton: You wrould regard it as blood money. _ Moran (confused): Yes, of course That is to say Come to think of it, I don’t know as I would! Haggleton (smiling): You would always be thinking of those struggling mothers and starving children. Moran (scratching his head): As assistant manager F could make things easier for ’em. Haggleton: Then you accept? Moran: Yes, I accept. I’ve got to. Haggleton: Good! Go down to .Madisonstreet bakeshop and help set up the electric kneading machine. Moran (backing toward door): Very well, sir. (Haggleton folds.his arms and eyes Philip and Geutle in grim amusement.) Haggleton, Philip and Gentle go out •with Moran. Philip, lured back by a note from Jenny, returns a few momenta later. They enact a scene suggesting a modern version of Joseph’s temptation by Potiphar’s wife. Philip succeeds in extricating himself; the girl rushes from the room out into the streets that knew her once, and, as Haggleton re-enters, he finds the discomfited Piulip. . Haggleton: I thought you were coming back. Philip: I was; but I’ve had an unpleasant set. Haggleton: With Jenny Morgan? Philip: How do you know? Haggleton (wisely): I passed her oh the Stairs. What’s the matter? Philip: Oh, I—er—l tried to help her. (Haggleton studies his face attentively, brushes face powder off Philip’s coat.) Haggleton. I see. (Pause.) She’s in love with you. eh? Philip (savagely): In love? Haggleton (studying him.): H’m! (He brushes powder off again.) Next time, I advise you to help some older and homelier female—one who doesn’t put on so much powder, Phil. Philip (bitterly): Next time? What about this time? Haggleton: Why, nothing—er—happened, did there? Philip: Nothing? I—l took her in my arms. 1 kissed her! Haggleton: She tempted you. Philip (to himself): How miserably weak I am! Haggleton: It’s a little thing. Philip: Little? If I can’t control myself in little things, how can I control myself in big things? Besides, it Isn’t a little thing. I am engaged to n fine, pure girl. I’in going to tell her, and—she’ll despise mo. liaggieton: Why tell her? (Takes I’hii’i arm and they walk.) Philip: She lias a right to know, liaggieton; She has a right to know any-

thing serious; but this isn’t serious. You love her, don’*t you? Philip: Love her? I worship her! ‘ ' * r - liaggleton: You don’t care Hir this other wont# n? Philip: No! No* Haggleton: Then you’re easy with your conscience. It would be cowardly to t *ll her. Philip (brightening): You really think that? liaggleton: I know it! It would cause her needless pain. Philip (reflecting): By George! You’re right! 1 mustn’t tell her. (Admiring y.) i’t’s wonderful how you see the best tiling to do. (Pause.) 1 don’t know why I speak of it, but I—l feel a sympathy for you. sir. I used to think you were a sort of inhuman, but you’ve been kind to me; you’ve taught me a lot. Haggleton: 1 take a great interest in you—my boy. Philip (troubled): Sometimes I’ve thought that I have two natures—one from my mother, one—(bis face darkens)—from my father. liaggleton (disturbed): What about your father? Philip (in a low tone): Mr father was—he was not a good man, Mr. liaggleton. lie—he pretty well broke my mother s heart, and—(with growing anger)—any man who could be unkind to such a woman —she was a saint on earth!—any man who could bo cruel to her was a brute and a scoundrel! liaggleton: How do you know he was cruel to her? Philip: I know how she suffered. I know what 1 saw. Many a time she’s he d me tight in her arms, and once—l don’t suppose she thought I understood—she prayed God to forgive my father’s sins, and to let me make amends when I came to ba a man! Their discussion is interrupted by the entrance of Margaret, who informs Philip of an accident on the river. He hastens off, and Margaret, recognising Haggleton as the despoiler of her father’s fortune, throws down the gauntlet to him in the battle to gain his son’s affection. ,

liaggleton:. Let me tell you something. I’ve never breathed this to a human being. I’m telling you because you’re a woman—a good woman. But, Miss Lawrence, it’s astonishing how much harm is done in this world -by good women. Margaret: What do you mean? liaggleton: I’ll show you righ’t in my life. My life! You think it lias been all hard and cruel—no love in it at all. Just scheming for money, grabbing everything in sight and not caring who suffered. In a way that’s true—1 admit it. But who made it true? A woman! A splendid, high-pda-cip ed woman—like you! Margaret: You mean your wife? liaggleton: Yes, my wife. She <UdJi!t approve of pertain tilings I did in business; but instead of helping me to do letter, she left me; she stole away my boy—my little son; and when she took him she took all the love out of my life. Four yeais old he was then—when she took him away. Such a brave little fellow! Just bad his curls cut off. Used to walk along and hold my hand and swing his little cane. I—l’ve always kept that cane. (Pause.) Love him! Love him! What plans 1 made for that boy! What hopes I had for him! And when ho got fever—well, never, mind that; but I loved him all right. He—.ie was my son, my only son! Margaret: I understand. Haggleton: You think I have all I want because I have money. Money! What is it? A drug that makes us forget what we haven’t got! I tell you I want my son, mid you want to take him from me- I’ve waited for him—l’ve got him—and I’m going to keep him! (Enter Gentle unobserved.) , . Margaret: Why didn’t you tell him you were his father? liaggleton: Because Gentle said it wasn t fair to throw my millions in the scale against his ideals. Margaret: Gentle made you promise? Gentle: Yes. liaggleton: I didn’t want to buy a son; I wanted ’to win his respect and love. Margaret: You have aroused Philip’s admiration by your conduct of this business. You have appealed to Gentle by this promise, as you appealed to me through my father’s name. You can bend every one to your will. But you can’t bend me! Gentle: Wait. Margaret! You believe me to be Philip’s friend—and yours? Margare’t: Yes; but — Gentle: Don’t tell Philip! Margaret: But — Gentle (earnestly): It is most important Philip should not know this until I say the word. T Margaret: I trust you. Mr. Gentle. I promise not to speak; but (She turns defiantly ’to Haggleton.) Ilaggle’ton: The battle! I accept your challenge. You love him. He loves ybu. But, remember this—he’s my son! We are one flesh that’s an elemental fact. oii can’t keep us apart! The next act opens on the same scene; but a startling change is apparent. The place has the air of an oihee sitting room. The glass hall doors bears the inscription. "The East Side Associated Bakeshops.’’ Moran. Jenny s father, is moody, and toys with a revolver. In spite of his present prosperity, he cannot forget his daughter, whom lie now knows to walk the streets. Philip has become a keen man of affairs, and Margaret fears that she is losing her fight. She tells him of a pitiful case requiring charity. He offers money. “It's all money now!” she exclaims angrily. "You've always said the only way to help the poor was to love them.”

Philip (Impatient): Yes, yes; but—there’* a strike of bakers on, with serious •interests at stake. Margaret (angrily): I hate your serious interests and your bakeshops and all of it. (She changes to pleading tones.) Phil, leave this business scheming! Philip: I want to do everything 1 can to please you. I’ll work for you—l’ll protect you—i’ii i O ve you; but—(firmly)—Margaret, it's the man who must decide bn>in* s» matters, and I’ve decided this. Margaret (with a wistful smile): Yes, Phil, you have decided more 'than you know! (She moves toward private office. Philip follows her.) Philip: Wait! Margaret, what are you going to do? Wait! Margaret: I’m going to call Mr. Haggleton. Philip: You know' who he is? 'Margaret: Yes. May I speak to you, Mr. llaggleton? Will you come too, Mr. Gentle? . . Yes, please. Philip: They have nothing to do with this. Margaret: They have everything ’to do with this. (Enter llaggleton and Gentle. All sit down, llaggleton. Gentle, and Philip turn uneasily from Margaret to one another, and then look inquiringly at Margaret.) Margaret: Philip—for the last time, choose between him and me! (Philip looks from Margaret to llaggleton.) Gentle (half to himself): The fight is on! Philip (to Gentle): What fight? Margaret (earnestly to Philip): The fight for you! The fight between your better land your baser nature. I want you to speak out, Phil, right from your soul, and Bay what you think of—of Mr. Haggleton’s life! Philip: What has his life got to do with its? ’Margaret (earnestly): More than you dream of, Phil! Trust me. Do what I Fay—if you love me. Tell Mr. llaggleton whether you approve of him. Philip: I like him. t Margaret: His business methods?

i Philip: If you put it that way, why 1 flMargaret (triumphant): Ah! 'Haggleton (to Philip): What is it you don’t approve of? Philip: You know what! Every schoolboy knows; it's the old thing -monopoly find bribery, and rebates, and —why go into this? Margaret: Go on! I‘hillp: You know very well that you and a dozen other men practically own this republic. /Gentle: Thai’s true! 'llaggleton: No! I‘hillp: Don’t yon control prices? Don’t you force people to pay what you like for public necessities? llaggleton: Listen to me. No big wo: k has ever been done in this world without leaders, and when a man delivers the goods lie’s entitled to the reward. Well, we’ve delivered the goods in this country! (Pause.) Go over to Europe and ask what they think of the United States. They’ll tell you it’s the greatest nation on earth >*—and it Is. Why is it? Because the men you call robbers and grafters have organized things—railroads, industries, telephones, banks —everything. Gentle: You’ve organized things for yourself; you’ve broken the law. Margaret: You haven’t been honest. Haggleton: Honest! We’ve kept to the standard of average honesty in 'this country, and no man can succeed in business ,>v!io keeps above it. The faults of America’s industrial leaders are the faults of the [American people. You attack us and blackguard us, but you know that in your hearts foil'd do exactly what we do If you had the chance. You know we are precisely •is honest as the average American citizen. Ilf we weren't we’d be in gaol! (I’au e ) (You say we break the law. Well, we do! But who doesn’t? (Jive the average American citizen an automobile ami watch him break the speed law. Let a policeman stop Jilin ami see the Hash ot his ten dollar bill! That’s bribery! Watch the average American woman back from Paris with a lot “f new drcffses. Does she smuggle them in? Well, wn’tch her (Pause.) I will tell you the only law anybody respects is cuMoni. (What does the average American citizen du when he wants a drink In n prohibition State? He breaks the law and gets the flrink! And the average American woninti when she tells the conductor how «»!<! her

little boy Is? She’s a good mother, and all tha’t; but she’d let Jimmie ride on a halffare ticket until he has whiskers if she could. (Pause.) When It comes to business, the average American citizen does, in a small way, exactly what we do in a big way. Give him a chance to crush a rival and see how quick he’ll take it. (He turns sharp y to Philip.) What have you been doing to these opposition bakers? Philip (taken back): Why—er—(Margaret turns to I*hil.) Haggleton: I'm not blaming you—l’m stating facts. And remember this, the way to improve things is not to attack and declaim and stir up class hatred, but to raise the standard of honesty of the American people. •Margaret (to Philip): Do you believe that? Philip: There’s a lot of truth in what he says. Gentle: That’s not the point. Would you do as he has done? , I‘hilip: Certainly not. I wouldn’t lead that kind of a life. Margaret: You say you’re going into business. Philip: I’m not going to be a railway president or a trust magnate. llaggleton: How do you know you’re not? Gentle: Suppose you were? Philip: That’s foolish! Margaret: No, Phil, it’s not foolish. Suppose—suppose you were in Mr. Haggleton’s place—what would you do? (She leans toward Philip with her whole soul in her eyes.) Think, dear! What would you do? (Philip hesitates.) llaggleton (keenly, to Philip): If you had important interests in trust, would you protect them or would you sacrifice them? Philip: I’d protect them. Gentle: Would you be dishonest? Haggleton (to Philip): Would you cripple your business by refusing rebates, grafts, and such practices as sanctioned by custom? Margaret (quickly): Dishonest practices? Would you, Phil? Philip: I—er —l don’t know. It isn’t fair to ask such questions.

THE DIMENSIONS OF FATHER ACCORDING TO JAMES.

Margaret (to Gentle): I’m not going to be silent any longer! (She turns angrily to llaggleton. Philip stares at her in alarm.) Philip: Silent about what? (In passion.) There's some infernal mystery here! (To Gentle.) What is it? (To llaggleton.) What is it? (To Margaret.) What is it? Margaret: I’m going to do the last thing I can show you your danger. Mr Haggleton Is your father! Philip (slowly): My father! (With a sudden idea.) But (lie turns to Gentle.) My name Is Philip Ames! Gentle (gravely): Your name is Philip llaggleton. Margaret: Now you understand! Philip: So that’s why you are leaving me ? Margaret : No! The Philip I loved is leaving me. You’re becoming like him! Philip (to llaggleton): What reason had you for not telling me this? Margaret: Why didn’t you? Haggleton: I wanted you to know me as a man before you knew me as a father. Margaret: Was that your only reason? (To Haggleton.) Didn’t something happen in your first talk with Mr Gentle? Philip (to Gentle): Did something happen ? Gentle (quietly): Yes, something happened. Margaret (quickly): Ah, 1 see! Some wrong has been done! Gentle (earnestly to Philip): Whatever wrong there was will bp atoned for nobly. Your father will put aside ten million dol. lars for a splendid campaign against tyMargaret (to Gentle): So that’s how he managed you! (She turns to llaggleton.) You’re a master of men, sir. You find the weak point in each one ami use it; but you must learn a little more about women. You have shut his lips. (Sin* glances at Gentle.) But you haven’t shut mine. My name is Margaret. His mother’s name and the spirit of the wife you couldn’t manage is here In the girl you can’t manage! Gentle (with sweet dignity): Margaret, it’s the attribute of youth to be severe. 1 haven’t sold my silence. This money Is for the poor not a penny of it for me. (He turns to Philip.) You know my life, Phil. You trust me? Philip: Yes. Gent Ip (impressive): Then I tell you I have done what your mother would have wished. Margaret: That’s not for you to decide.

The question is. have you the evidence of the wrong he d.ld? (She looks at Haggleton.) Haggleton fto Gentle): One moment! (To I‘hilip.) Y’ou said you did not want to judge any man. (’an you understand a man doing something under sudden temptation that he regrets afterwards? Philip: Y’es—l—l can. Haggleton: Can you understand that there might bp someone this man loved very much —(Philip looks at Margaret)—who woukl suffer pain, needless pain, if told what he had done? (’an you understand that? I‘hilip (moved): Yes. llaggleton (pursuing his advantage): Suppose I knew you had done something you were sorry for, wouldn’t it be cowardly of me to tell your fault to —to someone you loved? (He glances at Margaret). Philip: I think it woukl. (Gentle turns away.) Margaret (to Philip): That’s not the case. Your mother deprived you of your name and birthright. That was a monstrous crime unless she had justification. (To Gentle, iu strong appeal.) You know the truth. Yon made me keep silent. You said you would speak the truth when the time came. The time is now. Y’ou have a duty to his mother. For her sake Gentle (to Margaret): Y’ou’re right! (To llaggleton.) For his mother’s sake. I’m sorry, but (He draws a paper from his pocket and hands it to I‘hillp.) There! (Philip takes paper and holds it hesitatingly.) Philip (to Gentle): Is this something I ought fo read? Gentle (gravely): In my opinion, no. That’s why I’ve kept it from you. But if you insist Philip: I don’t insist. Margaret: Think of your mother! Philip (to Margaret): My mother is dead. I have a right to think a little of my father. (He turns to llaggleton.) Margaret (reproachfully): I‘hilip! Philip (tenderly to Margaret): Y’ou know I love you, Margaret. Whatever you do, wherever you go. I shall love you—always! I love Gentle, too. He's been a father to me, and I trust him. He knows what is on.

this paper. Y’ou do not. lie can judge, and —(appealing)—let me do my duty, dear, as I feel it! I must! (He walks toward stove.) We’ll end this—here! (He throws statement Into coals and watches it crumble to ashes.) Margaret: I’ve tried to save you and failed. I—l’m going. (She goes toward door and opens it.) Haggleton: Not yet! You started this trouble, now you’ll see it through. (Margaret comes back, leaving door partly open.) (To Philip.) It’s all very well to burn that statement, but you can’t burn the memory of It. It would always come between you and me—always. (All turn to Haggleton.) I’m going to tell you what was on that paper. It was an order I wrote over my own signature that an opposition oil refinery should be destroyed! I’hilip: My God! It’s a crime! Haggleton: We were desperate. Our whole business future depended on our getting control of the field. We had to reimAl* that opposition. We tried to buy them out, we made them generous offers, but that stubborn fool. Lawrence Margaret: Stop! You are speaking of my father! Haggleton: I beg your pardon! Philip (half to himself): Her father. And I am bis son! Here Moran bursts into the room with Jenny. He is crazed with grief. “I found her in a Bowery dive. It’s the Haggleton system.” lie cries, “that crushes men and women. By God! if I had him here—l’d show him.” Haggleton replies: “Well, show me. I’m Haggleton!” Moran reaches for his pistol. Philip springs forward to save his father. lie is wounded, staggers, and falls to the floor. “My son, my son,” exclaims Hagger ton. “He risked his life for me! I told you nothing could keep us apart.” The last act takes place in Haggleton’s Fifth Avenue mansion. Margaret, who has nursed I’liilip in his sickness, announces her intention to leave him now. Haggleton: Walt! I'm not going to argue or plead. I’m going to yield. I’ve done wrong and I’ve got to suffer. That’s the eternal law! Well, I’ll suffer.

I‘hillp (to llaggleton): No! llaggleton: My son, I have only a tsw years before me. You have a lifetime before you—with her. You have the best thing In the world, as I had once—the love of a line woman. Don’t lose it, my boy, as 1 did! Don’t let anything part you from it—not even your father! (Pause.) You must go with her. (Philip makes movement of protest.) That is my wish. We can see each other once in a while. (To Margaret.) It won’t hurt him to —to see bis father once in a while! Margaret (with emotion, to llaggleton): Don’t speak like that. Would you—'would you please leave me a moment with Philip? llaggleton: I’ll do whatever you say. (He moves toward door.) I w’aut you to be happy—both of you. (Haggleton goes out.) Margaret (timidly): Philip! Y’ou remember what I said about loving you for your courage aud your beautiful ideals? Philip: Y’es, dear. Margaret (in great distress): I—l’ve just seen Jennie, and she tells me some distressful —almost unbelievable things about my—my brother. (She breaks down.) Oh, I’hil! I would make no allowance for your father. I was full of wicked pride. I set myself up to judge others and now—now — my own brother (She can’t speak for emotion.) Philip: Y’ou poor darling! (He takes her in his arms, lifts up her chin, caressingly.) Then you’ll stay? Margaret (smiling through her tears): Yo i —you want me? (He clasps her in his arms.) (Enter Haggleton and Gentle.) Haggleton (smiling): -So you’ve made it up, you two? (Margaret breaks away from Philip and looks shyly at Haggleton.) Haggleton (holding out both arms to her): Margaret! Margaret (embarrassed): Mr llaggleton, I didn’t think I could like you, but what you said to Phil was so generous that —(she gives him her hands) —I want to like you now. You see, I—l’ve learned that people who live in glass houses mustn’t throw stoues. llaggleton: My daughter! (Very quietly, while petting her.) Anyhow, you’ve got a sense of humour, which is more than your father had. Now, my children, I’m going into business again. (They look at him ’u surprise.) The business of making you happy! And we’ll make the poor happy, too, 'if that will make you happier. See here, I’m going to pht ten million dollars aside for you three. (He indicates Margaret, Philip and Gentle.) You shall be custodians. I may give a little—ahem!—advice from time to time, but in the main I want vou to swing the thing yourselves. You’ve spent a good many years studying these problems of poverty, and doubtless know the very best plan to follow. Now what scheme * would you propose to utilise ten million dollars in helping the poor of this city without demoralising them? Its up to you! Gentle: Ten million dollars! We could cover this island with model tenements. Philip: Cover the island! We could build about fifty. And—they’d never pay. We’d waste ova- millions. Gentle (to Philip): I'd suggest homes for consumptives. That’s what this city needs. Margaret: I don’t agree with you. We need homes to prevent consumption. We must think of the young. We must help the poor children. We must give them sunshine, green fields—• — Philip: Impossible! You can’t take children away from their parents. Margaret: Let the parents go too. I’hilip: No, no! The parents have to work! Gentle: No, no! That would pauperise Margaret: I never thought of that. (She turns to Haggleton.) What would you advise? Philip (to llaggleton): Yes, what would you do? Gentle (to llaggleton): What would you do? llaggleton (deliberately): It’s the easiest thing in the world. There’s only one sound, practical. common sense way to help the poor of New York City with ten million dollars without demoralising them. (lie walks to a desk.) This is the way! (lie opens drawer in desk and draws out a bundle of blue prints and papers.) I can put the thing in one word—education! There is the only hope. You’ve got to do on a big scale what I’ve been doing on a small scale. You’ve got to show the people how to help themselves! You’ve got to naivse their standards! (Curt jin.)