George Kelly

“ Ritter commences to rummage in a sewing-basket on the piano. This basket is Mrs. Ritter at a glance, all green and yellow satin, fraught with meaningless bows and weird-looking knots. She undoubtedly made it herself, and it must have taken her months. But she’s a practical woman; at least she thinks she is; and the sewing-basket helps in a way to sustain the conviction. Poor Paula! As one looks at her and listens to her he appreciates the fortune of the circumstance that there is some sane and capable person between her and the world ”

“ We have all met our Pampinellis, and we have all seen the lady prompter take a curtain call, or had our mustache fall off in the big scene. We can never resist some characterization on the stage, and as for such hokum as this record of all the mishaps of the amateur actor, ill luck is the heart of broad comedy and when ill luck comes where it is most painful—in personal display—Cassandra herself must smile.
There were other things to make the death-watch wonder whether The Torch Bearers could live. It was satire. Satire is not ordinarily a popular commodity in the theatre. ”

“ She moves across to the left to Mr. Ritter. She is an imposing woman, in her late fifties, with a wealth of false hair, perfectly done, and a martial bearing. She is one of those matrons who is frequently referred to in the suburban weeklies as a “leading spirit”; and this particular description has always so flattered Mrs. Pampinelli’s particular vanity, that she overlooks no opportunity of justifying it: an effort that has resulted in a certain grandeur of voice and manner; which, rather fortunately, becomes the distinction of her person. ”

“ Ritter. But, I feel so unsuccessful.
Mrs. Pampinelli. I know, dear—I know exactly how you feel. But you must go on. Just remember that art is the highest expression of truth,—and you cannot fail. For you have everything in your favor, Paula. ”

“ The stage manager, in a tan jumper and army shirt, dirty white running-pumps, a battered old cap adorned with many tobacco-tags, and carrying a hammer, wanders on from the right and crosses the stage, passing below Florence and Mrs. Ritter, who turn and look at him curiously, and continues on up at the left to [98] the switch-board, where he picks up the newspaper from the broken chair, and, after lighting his pipe, sits down to read. He is apparently disgusted with the world and utterly oblivious of his surroundings. ”

“ Why, how could I be dead, dear,—when I’m here,—talking to you? [He stands looking straight ahead, smoking. She bursts out crying, and turns to the partition-seat at the right of the center-door.] Oh, Fred! it’s terrible to see you this way!
Ritter. [Sweeping his hand across his brow and starting across below the table towards the right] The human brain can only stand so much.
Mrs. Ritter. [Setting her roses down on the partition-seat] You’ve just been working yourself to death! But nobody could tell you anything! [She starts out into the left hallway for the telephone.] ”

“ Just at the moment America is beginning to display a surprising fondness for theatrical satire. Beginning is hardly the word, perhaps, for the first American drama, The Contrast, lampooned society with a large “S”; Fashion, our first play by a woman, spoke out smartly against the smart world, and from Our American Cousin down to date, so many of our playwrights have spoofed the alien and the aristocratic for the benefit of the homespun, that it is only by a hair that I can risk the statement that it is a “surprising fondness” which we now display for satire. ”

“ Jenny. [Running up the stairs] Yes, mam, I know where they are.
Mrs. Pampinelli. [Gathering up the roses from the table] Let me take these flowers out of your way, dear. You’ve been treated abominably. Although your husband’s attitude is entirely consistent with that of the average husband’s, after his wife has distinguished herself. [Ritter makes a little sound of amusement, and she glares at him.] And any observations of Mr. Ritter’s to the contrary, you did distinguish yourself tonight, Paula. [She turns to her right and puts the roses on the piano.] ”

“ Spindler is a young man who has made quite an exhaustive study of the Little Theatre Movement throughout the country; [Spindler moves back towards his former position, and Paula, over at the right, takes a piece of fudge from a box on the little table below the casement-window.] and is working very hard to bring about something of the same kind here. [Ritter inclines his head, and Spindler listens to Mrs. Pampinelli, wreathed in smiles.] And is going to succeed, too, aren’t you, Mr. Spindler?
Spindler. [With a kind of pert assurance] Never fell down on a big job yet. ”

“ Fell waves her hand at them, to be quiet.]
Spindler. Well, My God! I can’t be in a half-a-dozen places at the same time!
Mrs. Fell. Shush! [Hossefrosse tiptoes up to her and deplores the noise that Mrs. Pampinelli and Spindler are making.]
Mrs. Pampinelli. No one is asking you to be in half-a-dozen places at the same time! You’ve simply been asked to attend to your cues; and you’ve missed every one you’ve had!
[131] Mrs. Fell and Hossefrosse, together. Shush!
Spindler. You told me to take care of Teddy, didn’t you?
Mrs. Pampinelli. I told you to take him to the door! ”

“ Oh, you can laugh all you like, Frederick [188] Ritter, but you can’t fool Nelly Fell! [She comes back towards Mrs. Ritter, addressing her.] I’ve had three husbands,—I know their tricks. [She places her finger on Mrs. Ritter’s shoulder.] Pauline, dear child, you may be sure that that young man is proud of you tonight if he never was before. [Mrs. Ritter tries to laugh.] And when he gets you alone— [Mrs. Ritter’s attempt at laughter is instantly abandoned, and she gives a startled glance toward Ritter, who turns away to his left and goes up towards the mantelpiece.] Oh, when he gets you alone! ”

“ There are far too many who are only too willing to make the necessary sacrifices without being urged. [She picks up her fan and roses from the partition-seat, lays them across her left arm, and turns regnantly to Mrs. Ritter.] Only remember this, Paula,—there will be actresses when husbands are a thing of the past. [She sweeps out through the center-door and out into the right hallway. There is a slight pause; then Nelly Fell comes in at the left door. She misses Mrs. Pampinelli.] ”

“ Mrs. Ritter. [Looking away out] I might not like it, after I’d get there.
Ritter. Maybe not. I suppose fame becomes monotonous like everything else. But, I wouldn’t want you in the future, to look back and feel that I had stood in your way.
Mrs. Ritter. [Carefully] No, Fred,—I really don’t know whether I want to be a great actress or not.
Ritter. But, you are a great actress, dear.
Mrs. Ritter. Thank you.
Ritter. [Indicating the anchor of roses down at the left] Look at this anchor,—of hope. [He steps back and picks up the horseshoe.] ”

“ Jenny. No, sir. [Into the telephone] Yes, sir? [He listens, without turning.] No, sir, she hasn’t got home yet. [She lowers the telephone and looks at him, wide-eyed. He feels that she’s looking at him and turns suddenly.]
Ritter. [Taking a step towards her, below the piano] What is it?
Jenny. [Into the telephone] No, sir, he hasn’t got home yet neither.
Ritter. [Apprehensively] Do they want me? [168] [She nods yes.] Who is it? [She nods that she doesn’t know.] Police Headquarters I’ll bet a ten dollar note! [He crosses down below the table at the left and around up to the mantelpiece.] ”

“ Ritter. Why, what about her home? [Nelly Fell touches her hair and gives Mrs. Pampinelli a look of amused impatience.] She couldn’t very well walk away and leave that, could she?
Mrs. Pampinelli. Well, personally, Mr. Ritter, I have always felt that, where it is a question of talent, [35] one should not allow himself to be deterred by purely personal considerations.
Mrs. Fell. She’s really awfully good, Fred! You wait till you see—You’ll want her to go yourself.
Ritter. [Stepping quietly to the table at the left and disposing of some cigar-ashes] She’ll have to be pretty good. ”

“ Ritter. [Beyond the flats] Good night, kid.
Mrs. Pampinelli. [Going towards him] You should never walk off the stage, Teddy, in the middle of a scene! [He closes the door behind him, and, pressing his hand to his brow, starts towards the left.] Do something, no matter what it is! [He falls backward in a full-length faint. She catches him.] Oh, dear child! Mr. Spindler! Come here, Mr. Twiller, Teddy’s fainted! [Twiller, who has been standing [123] over at the left, and forward, rushes towards her; and Mrs. Fell, followed by Hossefrosse, comes rushing from the right.] ”

“ She comes through the center-door, carrying her fan and an armload of orchids and red chrysanthemums, and wearing an enormous flowing cape of ruffled black lace, touched all over with tiny circular sequins in gold. ”

“ Pampinelli, making marginal notes in the manuscript, laughs faintly.] “Well,” I said, “it’d be a change, anyway,—from being stopped all the time.” [She abstractedly picks up her fan again.] I don’t think he likes my chauffeur. And I don’t blame him; I don’t like him myself. He drives too slow— [She starts for the center-door.] He’s like an old woman. [She sees Ritter, peering at her, and starts abruptly.] Well, for Mercy’s sake, Frederick Ritter, you don’t mean to tell me that’s you! ”

“ I have the day and date of the majority of them. So, you see, your chivalry is a bit trying, under the circumstances. [He looks straight ahead and tries to look sullen and defeated.]
Mrs. Ritter. [Up in the center-door, holding aloft a glass of punch] Betty!
Florence. But, I haven’t come here to reproach you, or to plead for your return. Not at all. I think you love this woman. ”

“ Pampinelli’s vast activities. He reminds her of things, or, “brings them to her attention,” as she puts it. For Mr. Spindler is one of those—fortunately few—people who remembers things—word for word—even the things he’s read—And he appears to have read most everything. And he quotes incessantly. As Mrs. Pampinelli has already observed of him, “he is one of those rare persons who never forsakes one in the hour of quotation.”] Look here, Nelly.
Mrs. Fell. Yes, dear. [Mrs. Ritter comes in from the left hallway carrying several punch-glasses, which she puts down on the hallway table.] ”

“ People will always talk; it may as well be at my expense as anybody else’s.
Mrs. Pampinelli. [Leaning towards him across the table, and speaking with poisonous sweetness] Anybody’s else, dear.
Hossefrosse. Beg pardon?
Mrs. Pampinelli. Would you say anybody’s else; it sounds better.
Hossefrosse. [Turning back again to Florence] [74] It may as well be at my expense as anybody else’s. [Mr. Spindler’s elbow slips off the piano onto the keyboard, striking a perfectly villainous chord, and causing everybody to turn and look in that direction.]
Mrs. Pampinelli. Mr. Spindler, please. ”

“ Fell, taking advantage of the circumstance of Mrs. Pampinelli’s crossing, tiptoes up to Twiller and strikes him on the left arm, quite viciously, with the rolled manuscript. As a polite remonstrance, he shakes his left hand and foot at her. But, she is not dismayed, and repeats the attack, even more viciously. Then he turns and glares at her, and she turns away towards the right, desperately.]
Florence. A great mistake.
[135] Mrs. Ritter. Disappointed? Because, you know, we can invent a scandal, if you insist.
Mrs. Fell. Oh, what a man! What a man!
Florence and Mrs. Pampinelli, together. ”

“ It certainly isn’t a very inviting one. [Nelly Fell starts to whisper something in his ear.]
Florence. But it has its compensations. [Mrs. Pampinelli, having finished her cake and claret, sets the empty glass down on the table below the piano and uses her handkerchief.] You’ll have your memories, and I shall have the wisdom of disillusionment;— [The telephone-bell rings, up in the left hallway. Mrs. Ritter jumps up, places her sewing-basket on the chair, and, touching her hair, comes forward quickly at the right to the table below the piano.] as well as the consciousness of lots of company. ”

“ Satire has had its great moments, however, in the history of the drama. Aristophanes made merry over the fashions, foibles, and philosophies of Athens. Satire was Molière’s stock in trade. Shaw has done very well by poking a finger at society. Every nation has at least one outstanding theatrical satire to its credit. ”

“ Mrs. Ritter and Florence, together.
Mrs. Ritter. [Turning to Mrs. Pampinelli] Oh, I beg your pardon! [She leans across the table explaining to Mrs. Pampinelli, who tries politely to silence her by suggestion that the scene is in progress.] I thought that was my cue.
Florence—Secondary women. [She moves around above the table and stands just above Hossefrosse.] So don’t look so tragic; you haven’t lost anything but a lot of time;
Jenny. [At the telephone] Hello?
Mrs. Ritter, Florence and Mrs. Fell, together. ”