Anarchism and Other Essays
loves had been driven by the merciless economic Moloch to sell
herself. She "tried making skirts ... cheap things.... I never
made more than ten shillings a week, buying my own cotton, and
working all day. I hardly ever got to bed till past twelve....
And then ... my employer happened--he's happened ever since." At
this terrible psychologic moment the police appear to drag him back
to prison for failing to report himself as ticket-of-leave man.
Completely overwhelmed by the inexorability of his environment, young
Falder seeks and finds peace, greater than human justice, by throwing
himself down to death, as the detectives are taking him back to
prison.
It would be impossible to estimate the effect produced by this play.
Perhaps some conception can be gained from the very unusual
circumstance that it had proved so powerful as to induce the Home
Secretary of Great Britain to undertake extensive prison reforms in
England. A very encouraging sign this, of the influence exerted by
the modern drama. It is to be hoped that the thundering indictment
of Mr. Galsworthy will not remain without similar effect upon the
public sentiment and prison conditions of America. At any rate, it
is certain that no other modern play has borne such direct and
immediate fruit in wakening the social conscience.
Another modern play, THE SERVANT IN THE HOUSE, strikes a vital key
in our social life. The hero of Mr. Kennedy's masterpiece is Robert,
a coarse, filthy drunkard, whom respectable society has repudiated.
Robert, the sewer cleaner, is the real hero of the play; nay, its
true and only savior. It is he who volunteers to go down into the
dangerous sewer, so that his comrades "can 'ave light and air."
After all, has he not sacrificed his life always, so that others may
have light and air?
The thought that labor is the redeemer of social well-being has been
cried from the housetops in every tongue and every clime. Yet the
simple words of Robert express the significance of labor and its
mission with far greater potency.
America is still in its dramatic infancy. Most of the attempts along
this line to mirror life, have been wretched failures. Still, there
are hopeful signs in the attitude of the intelligent public toward
modern plays, even if they be from foreign soil.
The only real drama America has so far produced is THE EASIEST WAY,
by Eugene Walter.
It is supposed to represent a "peculiar phase" of New York life. If
that were all, it would be of minor significance. That which gives
the play its real importance and value lies much deeper. It lies,
first, in the fundamental current of our social fabric which drives
us all, even stronger characters than Laura, into the easiest way--a
way so very destructive of integrity, truth, and justice. Secondly,
the cruel, senseless fatalism conditioned in Laura's sex. These two
features put the universal stamp upon the play, and characterize it
as one of the strongest dramatic indictments against society.
The criminal waste of human energy, in economic and social
conditions, drives Laura as it drives the average girl to marry any
man for a "home"; or as it drives men to endure the worst indignities
for a miserable pittance.
Then there is that other respectable institution, the fatalism of
Laura's sex. The inevitability of that force is summed up in the
following words: "Don't you know that we count no more in the life of
these men than tamed animals? It's a game, and if we don't play our
cards well, we lose." Woman in the battle with life has but one
weapon, one commodity--sex. That alone serves as a trump card in the
game of life.
This blind fatalism has made of woman a parasite, an inert thing.
Why then expect perseverance or energy of Laura? The easiest way is
the path mapped out for her from time immemorial. She could follow
no other.
A number of other plays could be quoted as characteristic of the
growing role of the drama as a disseminator of radical thought.
Suffice to mention THE THIRD DEGREE, by Charles Klein; THE FOURTH
ESTATE, by Medill Patterson; A MAN'S WORLD, by Ida Croutchers,--all
pointing to the dawn of dramatic art in America, an art which is
discovering to the people the terrible diseases of our social body.
It has been said of old, all roads lead to Rome. In paraphrased
application to the tendencies of our day, it may truly be said that
all roads lead to the great social reconstruction. The economic
awakening of the workingman, and his realization of the necessity for
concerted industrial action; the tendencies of modern education,
especially in their application to the free development of the child;
the spirit of growing unrest expressed through, and cultivated by,
art and literature, all pave the way to the Open Road. Above all,
the modern drama, operating through the double channel of dramatist
and interpreter, affecting as it does both mind and heart, is the
strongest force in developing social discontent, swelling the
powerful tide of unrest that sweeps onward and over the dam of
ignorance, prejudice, and superstition.
[1] HONOR.
[2] MAGDA.
[3] BEFORE SUNRISE.
[4] THE WEAVERS.
[5] THE SUNKEN BELL.
[6] YOUTH.
[7] THE AWAKENING OF SPRING.