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- Herausgeber: Musaicum Books
- Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
- Sprache: Englisch
Israel Zangwill's 'The Melting-Pot (A Tale of Russian Jewish Immigrants)' is a groundbreaking novel that delves into the lives of Russian Jewish immigrants in America during the early 20th century. Zangwill's literary style combines elements of romanticism and realism, showcasing vivid descriptions of immigrant experiences, cultural clashes, and the pursuit of the American Dream. Set against the backdrop of a changing America, the novel explores themes of identity, assimilation, and the complexities of cultural diversity in a rapidly evolving society. Zangwill's portrayal of the immigrant experience is both poignant and thought-provoking, making it a crucial work in American literary history. Israel Zangwill, a prominent Jewish-British writer and social activist, drew inspiration from his own Jewish heritage and his observations of immigrant communities in London and New York. Zangwill's unique perspective as an outsider looking in provides a nuanced portrayal of the challenges and triumphs of the immigrant experience. 'The Melting-Pot' is a must-read for anyone interested in the rich tapestry of American immigration history and the ongoing struggles of cultural integration in contemporary society.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020
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The Melting-Pot (A Tale of Russian Jewish Immigrants)
Books
Table of Contents
THE CAST
[As first produced at the Columbia Theatre, Washington, on the fifth of October 1908]
David Quixano
Walker Whiteside
Mendel Quixano
Henry Bergman
Baron Revendal
John Blair
Quincy Davenport, Jr.
Grant Stewart
Herr Pappelmeister
Henry Vogel
Vera Revendal
Chrystal Herne
Baroness Revendal
Leonora Von Ottinger
Frau Quixano
Louise Muldener
Kathleen O'Reilly
Mollie Revel
Settlement Servant
Annie Harris
Produced by
Hugh Ford
[As first produced by the Play Actors at the Court Theatre, London on the twenty-fifth of January 1914]
David Quixano
Harold Chapin
Mendel Quixano
Hugh Tabberer
Baron Revendal
H. Lawrence Leyton
Quincy Davenport, Jr.
P. Perceval Clark
Herr Pappelmeister
Clifton Alderson
Vera Revendal
Phyllis Relph
Baroness Revendal
Gillian Scaife
Frau Quixano
Inez Bensusan
Kathleen O'Reilly
E. Nolan O'Connor
Settlement Servant
Ruth Parrott
Produced by
Norman Page
Act I
The scene is laid in the living-room of the small home of the Quixanos in the Richmond or non-Jewish borough of New York, about five o'clock of a February afternoon. At centre back is a double street-door giving on a columned veranda in the Colonial style. Nailed on the right-hand door-post gleams a Mezuzah, a tiny metal case, containing a Biblical passage. On the right of the door is a small hat-stand holding Mendel's overcoat, umbrella, etc. There are two windows, one on either side of the door, and three exits, one down-stage on the left leading to the stairs and family bedrooms, and two on the right, the upper leading to Kathleen's bedroom and the lower to the kitchen. Over the street door is pinned the Stars-and-Stripes. On the left wall, in the upper corner of which is a music-stand, are bookshelves of large mouldering Hebrew books, and over them is hung a Mizrach, or Hebrew picture, to show it is the East Wall. Other pictures round the room include Wagner, Columbus, Lincoln, and "Jews at the Wailing place." Down-stage, about a yard from the left wall, stands David's roll-desk, open and displaying a medley of music, a quill pen, etc. On the wall behind the desk hangs a book-rack with brightly bound English books. A grand piano stands at left centre back, holding a pile of music and one huge Hebrew tome. There is a table in the middle of the room covered with a red cloth and a litter of objects, music, and newspapers. The fireplace, in which a fire is burning, occupies the centre of the right wall, and by it stands an armchair on which lies another heavy mouldy Hebrew tome. The mantel holds a clock, two silver candlesticks, etc. A chiffonier stands against the back wall on the right. There are a few cheap chairs. The whole effect is a curious blend of shabbiness, Americanism, Jewishness, and music, all four being combined in the figure of Mendel Quixano, who, in a black skull-cap, a seedy velvet jacket, and red carpet-slippers, is discovered standing at the open street-door. He is an elderly music master with a fine Jewish face, pathetically furrowed by misfortunes, and a short grizzled beard.
MENDEL
Good-bye, Johnny! … And don't forget to practise your scales.
[Shutting door, shivers.]
Ugh! It'll snow again, I guess.
[He yawns, heaves a great sigh of relief, walks toward the table, and perceives a music-roll.]
The chump! He's forgotten his music!
[He picks it up and runs toward the window on the left, muttering furiously]
Brainless, earless, thumb-fingered Gentile!
[Throwing open the window]
Here, Johnny! You can't practise your scales if you leave 'em here!
[He throws out the music-roll and shivers again at the cold as he shuts the window.]
Ugh! And I must go out to that miserable dancing class to scrape the rent together.
[He goes to the fire and warms his hands.]
Ach Gott! What a life! What a life!
[He drops dejectedly into the armchair. Finding himself sitting uncomfortably on the big book, he half rises and pushes it to the side of the seat. After an instant an irate Irish voice is heard from behind the kitchen door.]
KATHLEEN [Without]
Divil take the butther! I wouldn't put up with ye, not for a hundred dollars a week.
MENDEL [Raising himself to listen, heaves great sigh]
Ach! Mother and Kathleen again!
KATHLEEN [Still louder]
Pots and pans and plates and knives! Sure 'tis enough to make a saint chrazy.
FRAU QUIXANO [Equally loudly from kitchen]
Wos schreist du? Gott in Himmel, dieses Amerika!
KATHLEEN [Opening door of kitchen toward the end of Frau Quixano's speech, but turning back, with her hand visible on the door]
What's that ye're afther jabberin' about America? If ye don't like God's own counthry, sure ye can go back to your own Jerusalem, so ye can.
MENDEL
One's very servants are anti-Semites.
KATHLEEN [Bangs her door as she enters excitedly, carrying a folded white table-cloth. She is a young and pretty Irish maid-of-all-work]
Bad luck to me, if iver I take sarvice again with haythen Jews.
[She perceives Mendel huddled up in the armchair, gives a little scream, and drops the cloth.]
Och, I thought ye was out!
MENDEL [Rising]
And so you dared to be rude to my mother.
KATHLEEN [Angrily, as she picks up the cloth]
She said I put mate on a butther-plate.
MENDEL
Well, you know that's against her religion.
KATHLEEN
But I didn't do nothing of the soort. I ounly put butther on a mate-plate.
MENDEL
That's just as bad. What the Bible forbids——
KATHLEEN [Lays the cloth on a chair and vigorously clears off the litter of things on the table.]
Sure, the Pope himself couldn't remimber it all. Why don't ye have a sinsible religion?
MENDEL
You are impertinent. Attend to your work.
[He seats himself at the piano.]
KATHLEEN
And isn't it laying the Sabbath cloth I am?
[She bangs down articles from the table into their right places.]
MENDEL
Don't answer me back.
[He begins to play softly.]
KATHLEEN
Faith, I must answer somebody back—and sorra a word of English she understands. I might as well talk to a tree.
MENDEL
You are not paid to talk, but to work.
[Playing on softly.]
KATHLEEN
And who can work wid an ould woman nagglin' and grizzlin' and faultin' me?
[She removes the red table-cloth.]
Mate-plates, butther-plates, kosher, trepha, sure I've smashed up folks' crockery and they makin' less fuss ouver it.
MENDEL [Stops playing.]
Breaking crockery is one thing, and breaking a religion another. Didn't you tell me when I engaged you that you had lived in other Jewish families?
KATHLEEN [Angrily]
And is it a liar ye'd make me out now? I've lived wid clothiers and pawnbrokers and Vaudeville actors, but I niver shtruck a house where mate and butther couldn't be as paceable on the same plate as eggs and bacon—the most was that some wouldn't ate the bacon onless 'twas killed kosher.
MENDEL [Tickled]
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
KATHLEEN [Furious, pauses with the white table-cloth half on.]
And who's ye laughin' at? I give ye a week's notice. I won't be the joke of Jews, no, begorra, that I won't.
[She pulls the cloth on viciously.]
MENDEL [Sobered, rising from the piano]
Don't talk nonsense, Kathleen. Nobody is making a joke of you. Have a little patience—you'll soon learn our ways.
KATHLEEN [More mildly]
Whose ways, yours or the ould lady's or Mr. David's? To-night being yer Sabbath, you'll be blowing out yer bedroom candle, though ye won't light it; Mr. David'll light his and blow it out too; and the misthress won't even touch the candleshtick. There's three religions in this house, not wan.
MENDEL [Coughs uneasily.]
Hem! Well, you learn the mistress's ways—that will be enough.
KATHLEEN [Going to mantelpiece]
But what way can I understand her jabberin' and jibberin'?—I'm not a monkey!
[She takes up a silver candlestick.]
Why doesn't she talk English like a Christian?
MENDEL [Irritated]
If you are going on like that, perhaps you had better not remain here.
KATHLEEN [Blazing up, forgetting to take the second candlestick]
And who's axin' ye to remain here? Faith, I'll quit off this blissid minit!
MENDEL [Taken aback]
No, you can't do that.
KATHLEEN
And why can't I? Ye can keep yer dirthy wages.
[She dumps down the candlestick violently on the table, and exit hysterically into her bedroom.]
MENDEL [Sighing heavily]
She might have put on the other candlestick.
[He goes to mantel and takes it. A rat-tat-tat at street-door.]
Who can that be?
[Running to Kathleen's door, holding candlestick forgetfully low.]
Kathleen! There's a visitor!
KATHLEEN [Angrily from within]
I'm not here!
MENDEL
So long as you're in this house, you must do your work.
[Kathleen's head emerges sulkily.]
KATHLEEN
I tould ye I was lavin' at wanst. Let you open the door yerself.
MENDEL
I'm not dressed to receive visitors—it may be a new pupil.
[He goes toward staircase, automatically carrying off the candlestick which Kathleen has not caught sight of. Exit on the left.]
KATHLEEN [Moving toward the street-door]
The divil fly away wid me if ivir from this 'our I set foot again among haythen furriners——
[She throws open the door angrily and then the outer door. Vera Revendal, a beautiful girl in furs and muff, with a touch of the exotic in her appearance, steps into the little vestibule.]
VERA
Is Mr. Quixano at home?
KATHLEEN [Sulkily]
Which Mr. Quixano?
VERA [Surprised]
Are there two Mr. Quixanos?
KATHLEEN [Tartly]
Didn't I say there was?
VERA
Then I want the one who plays.
KATHLEEN
There isn't a one who plays.
VERA
Oh, surely!
KATHLEEN
Ye're wrong entirely. They both plays.
VERA [Smiling]
Oh, dear! And I suppose they both play the violin.
KATHLEEN
Ye're wrong again. One plays the piano—ounly the young ginthleman plays the fiddle—Mr. David!
VERA [Eagerly]
Ah, Mr. David—that's the one I want to see.
KATHLEEN
He's out.
[She abruptly shuts the door.]
VERA [Stopping its closing]
Don't shut the door!
KATHLEEN [Snappily]
More chanst of seeing him out there than in here!
VERA
But I want to leave a message.
KATHLEEN
Then why don't ye come inside? It's freezin' me to the bone.
[She sneezes.]
Atchoo!
VERA
I'm sorry.
[She comes in and closes the door]
Will you please say Miss Revendal called from the Settlement, and we are anxiously awaiting his answer to the letter asking him to play for us on——
KATHLEEN
What way will I be tellin' him all that? I'm not here.
VERA
Eh?
KATHLEEN
I'm lavin'—just as soon as I've me thrunk packed.
VERA
Then I must write the message—can I write at this desk?
KATHLEEN
If the ould woman don't come in and shpy you.
VERA
What old woman?
KATHLEEN
Ould Mr. Quixano's mother—she wears a black wig, she's that houly.
VERA [Bewildered]
What? … But why should she mind my writing?
KATHLEEN
Look at the clock.
[Vera looks at the clock, more puzzled than ever.]
If ye're not quick, it'll be Shabbos.
VERA
Be what?
KATHLEEN [Holds up hands of horror]
Ye don't know what Shabbos is! A Jewess not know her own Sunday!
VERA [Outraged]
I, a Jewess! How dare you?
KATHLEEN [Flustered]
Axin' your pardon, miss, but ye looked a bit furrin and I——
VERA [Frozen]
I am a Russian.
[Slowly and dazedly]
Do I understand that Mr. Quixano is a Jew?
KATHLEEN
Two Jews, miss. Both of 'em.
VERA
Oh, but it is impossible.
[Dazedly to herself]
He had such charming manners.
[Aloud again]
You seem to think everybody Jewish. Are you sure Mr. Quixano is not Spanish?—the name sounds Spanish.
KATHLEEN
Shpanish!
[She picks up the old Hebrew book on the armchair.]
Look at the ould lady's book. Is that Shpanish?
[She points to the Mizrach.]
And that houly picture the ould lady says her pater-noster to! Is that Shpanish? And that houly table-cloth with the houly silver candle——
[Cry of sudden astonishment]
Why, I've ounly put——
[She looks toward mantel and utters a great cry of alarm as she drops the Hebrew book on the floor.]
Why, where's the other candleshtick! Mother in hivin, they'll say I shtole the candleshtick!
[Perceiving that Vera is dazedly moving toward door]
Beggin' your pardon, miss——
[She is about to move a chair toward the desk.]
VERA
Thank you, I've changed my mind.
KATHLEEN
That's more than I'll do.
VERA [Hand on door]
Don't say I called at all.
KATHLEEN
Plaze yerself. What name did ye say?
[Mendel enters hastily from his bedroom, completely transmogrified, minus the skull-cap, with a Prince Albert coat, and boots instead of slippers, so that his appearance is gentlemanly. Kathleen begins to search quietly and unostentatiously in the table-drawers, the chiffonier, etc., etc., for the candlestick.
MENDEL
I am sorry if I have kept you waiting——
[He rubs his hands importantly.]
You see I have so many pupils already. Won't you sit down?
[He indicates a chair.]
VERA [Flushing, embarrassed, releasing her hold of the door handle]
Thank you—I—I—I didn't come about pianoforte lessons.
MENDEL [Sighing in disappointment]
Ach!
VERA
In fact I—er—it wasn't you I wanted at all—I was just going.
MENDEL [Politely]
Perhaps I can direct you to the house you are looking for.
VERA
Thank you, I won't trouble you.
[She turns toward the door again.]
MENDEL
Allow me!
[He opens the door for her.]
VERA [Hesitating, struck by his manners, struggling with her anti-Jewish prejudice]
It—it—was your son I wanted.
MENDEL [His face lighting up]
You mean my nephew, David. Yes, he gives violin lessons.
[He closes the door.]
VERA
Oh, is he your nephew?
MENDEL
I am sorry he is out—he, too, has so many pupils, though at the moment he is only at the Crippled Children's Home—playing to them.
VERA
How lovely of him!
[Touched and deciding to conquer her prejudice]
But that's just what I came about—I mean we'd like him to play again at our Settlement. Please ask him why he hasn't answered Miss Andrews's letter.
MENDEL [Astonished]
He hasn't answered your letter?
VERA
Oh, I'm not Miss Andrews; I'm only her assistant.
MENDEL
I see—Kathleen, whatever are you doing under the table?
[Kathleen, in her hunting around for the candlestick, is now stooping and lifting up the table-cloth.]
KATHLEEN
Sure the fiend's after witching away the candleshtick.
MENDEL [Embarrassed]
The candlestick? Oh—I—I think you'll find it in my bedroom.
KATHLEEN
Wisha, now!
[She goes into his bedroom.]
MENDEL [Turning apologetically to Vera]
I beg your pardon, Miss Andrews, I mean Miss—er——
VERA
Revendal.
MENDEL [Slightly more interested]
Revendal? Then you must be the Miss Revendal David told me about!
VERA [Blushing]
Why, he has only seen me once—the time he played at our Roof-Garden Concert.
MENDEL
Yes, but he was so impressed by the way you handled those new immigrants—the Spirit of the Settlement, he called you.
VERA [Modestly]
Ah, no—Miss Andrews is that. And you will tell him to answer her letter at once, won't you, because there's only a week now to our Concert.
[A gust of wind shakes the windows. She smiles.]
Naturally it will not be on the Roof Garden.
MENDEL [Half to himself]
Fancy David not saying a word about it to me! Are you sure the letter was mailed?
VERA
I mailed it myself—a week ago. And even in New York——
[She smiles. Re-enter Kathleen with the recovered candlestick.]
KATHLEEN
Bedad, ye're as great a shleep-walker as Mr. David!
[She places the candlestick on the table and moves toward her bedroom.]
MENDEL
Kathleen!
KATHLEEN [Pursuing her walk without turning]
I'm not here!
MENDEL
Did you take in a letter for Mr. David about a week ago?
[Smiling at Miss Revendal]
He doesn't get many, you see.
KATHLEEN [Turning]
A letter? Sure, I took in ounly a postcard from Miss Johnson, an' that ounly sayin'——
VERA
And you don't remember a letter—a large letter—last Saturday—with the seal of our Settlement?
KATHLEEN
Last Saturday wid a seal, is it? Sure, how could I forgit it?
MENDEL
Then you did take it in?
KATHLEEN
Ye're wrong entirely. 'Twas the misthress took it in.
