Thirty Pieces of Silver: A Play in Three Acts Page 4

  SELWIN To a degree. I suppose it is needful to you.

  CARMICHAEL (shaking his head) You’re sentimental, Fred. Not good. Not kind. Simply sentimental. My own guess is that at home you’re a perfect son-of-a-bitch.

  (smiling at SELWIN who stares at him stolidly)

  Don’t get sore at that. That’s a sop to my own age. I am not sentimental, but I am also never deliberately cruel. That’s something you should understand, Fred, for your own good.

  SELWIN (walking over to the desk) What are you going to do? Ask for his resignation?

  CARMICHAEL Anything else I can do, Fred?

  SELWIN Don’t try to shift’ it to me. You’re the head of the Department, not me.

  CARMICHAEL I’m always intrigued by morality that holds aloof from action. The dead are always good, aren’t they? I repeat—what else can I do?

  SELWIN I don’t know. Yet even you will admit that the thing is essentially wrong.

  CARMICHAEL (folding his arms, leaning back in his chair and smiling) Even I. You put such stock in your superior morality. I’ll bet you’re a damn goat, Fred. Always right or wrong. Well, nothing is right and nothing is wrong. There is only the immediate necessity.

  SELWIN And the immediate necessity is so clear?

  CARMICHAEL Quite clear. There is a process. Human beings create the situation that starts that process, but the process itself is quite inhuman. The process is simply necessary so that you and I can continue to draw our pay and do whatever satisfies our respective souls. But don’t offer me any abstract morality; there is none.

  SELWIN I wonder what you would do if you had that kind of thing on me?

  CARMICHAEL You can guess, can’t you, Fred?

  SELWIN You know it was Phillips who gave Graham the job, and Phillips was a friend of—what’s his name?

  CARMICHAEL Agronsky.

  SELWIN And Phillips resigned, didn’t he? You were very friendly with Phillips, weren’t you, Mr. Carmichael? You saw a good deal of him.

  CARMICHAEL (the thin, caustic smile returning to his lips) I don’t know whether to be angry or amused. How have you been spending your time, Fred—seeing cheap pictures about the Gestapo?

  SELWIN Thinking, Mr. Carmichael.

  CARMICHAEL So you think, do you Fred? Were you thinking perhaps that you’re big enough to tangle with me?

  SELWIN This is not a case of who is big and who is little, Mr. Carmichael.

  (He is tense and white and nervous.)

  This is a new kind of thing. You are going to fire Graham—not because Graham is a Communist——

  CARMICHAEL Give the Communists a little credit, Fred.

  SELWIN —not because he’s a Communist, not even because he got the job through Agronsky, but to bolster yourself.

  CARMICHAEL And yourself, Fred.

  SELWIN Leave me out of it, Mr. Carmichael. I’ll build my own walls. You never had any conscience. I had a little. You sell Graham cheap. I’ll build my own walls.

  CARMICHAEL And you think——

  (He swings back in his chair with hard, convulsive laughter.)

  —you think that you’ve got me, Freddy. Agronsky was Phillips’ friend. I was Phillips’ friend. Ergo——

  (He stands up suddenly, his voice low and cold.)

  Shall I resign, Fred?

  SELWIN You don’t, frighten me, Mr. Carmichael. You would have once. You don’t now. This is a new situation. It has possibilities. I always considered myself a person of conscience Mr. Carmichael. Well, one adapts one’s conscience. I never made friends of people like Graham, like Phillips, like Agronsky. A certain fortunate purity, let us say. I’ll think about it.

  CARMICHAEL (with controlled anger) Don’t let your thoughts run away with you, Fred. Suppose you have Graham in now.

  SELWIN You really look forward to it, don’t you?

  CARMICHAEL It interests me, I’ll admit that. The high moments of life are usually unpleasant for someone. They are still high moments. That’s why men kill each other. That’s why I can sit here so calmly and watch you hate me. You spend too many hours planning how to get rid of me. You won’t, Fred. I have better staying power. I have also been in this rat race longer. Bureaucracy is a technique, and there is always someone hating someone else and planning to get rid of him. But it’s a technique you will never be good at, Fred—because behind it are certain prime forces you understand in only the most primitive fashion.

  SELWIN I see. Thank you, Mr. Carmichael. Do you want me to be here while you inform Graham?

  CARMICHAEL I think you should. After all, you’re the personnel department.

  SELWIN (He nods picks up one of the phones on Carmichael’s desk and talks quickly and flatly.) Will you send David Graham in here.

  (He replaces the phone and stares at CARMICHAEL, who is reading in the file folder.)

  CARMICHAEL (without looking up) The whole thing is a semantic trap. It’s not a question of loyalty. It’s a question of relative strength.

  SELWIN Yes?

  CARMICHAEL (still without looking up) And I don’t believe you feel any sorrier for Graham than I do. You’re sorry for yourself, Fred. You anticipate danger.

  SELWIN (unemotionally) That may be.

  CARMICHAEL And you suffer anxiety. You participate vicariously.

  SELWIN (His voice becomes cold and insinuating.) Possibly. But I think you will suffer some anxiety yourself, Mr. Carmichael. That can be, you know.

  (There is a knock on the door.)

  CARMICHAEL (looking up and smiling) Let him in, Fred.

  (SELWIN goes to the door and opens it. DAVID GRAHAM enters, his attitude one of mingled respect and uncertainty. He walks over to the desk.)

  DAVID You sent for me, Mr. Carmichael?

  CARMICHAEL That’s right, Graham.

  (SELWIN walks over to the window and parts two slats of the blind, looking out. For a long moment CARMICHAEL studies the file folder. Then he closes it and looks up at DAVID, his face impassive.)

  There is a little unpleasantness, Graham. I suppose you anticipated it?

  DAVID What—sir?

  CARMICHAEL Let me be a little more specific. You know, of course, that every bureau in Washington is under certain pressures. Ours not excluded. That is only to be expected within the context of present world events, and the approaching election doesn’t make it any better. There are bound to be many victims of such circumstances, and unfortunately you are one of them.

  DAVID (puzzled and troubled) I still don’t follow you, Mr. Carmichael.

  CARMICHAEL (smiling patiently) You know a man called Agronsky?

  DAVID Yes——

  CARMICHAEL As a matter of fact, it was through him that Phillips hired you.

  DAVID Yes—but I don’t see——

  CARMICHAEL (with the first note of impatience in his voice) I think you do, Graham. I called you in here to ask you to offer your resignation.

  DAVID (with complete bewilderment) What?

  SELWIN (turning away from the window and taking a few steps toward them) For God’s sake, Carmichael—we owe him a little more explanation than that.

  CARMICHAEL (smiling again) By all means.

  SELWIN (rubbing his face uneasily) It comes down to this, Graham. You’ve been seeing this Leonard Agronsky. The axe is going to fall on him—and on his friends, too. It’s better for you to resign than to go through the whole wretched business of a loyalty hearing and a forced dismissal. Better for you and better for the Department.

  DAVID (still unable to assimilate the fact) But my work—my work’s been satisfactory. I never heard any complaints.

  SELWIN This has nothing to do with your work, Graham.

  DAVID Then what are you accusing me of? What have I done?

  CARMICHAEL For all we know, Graham, you haven’t done anything. This is not a case of what you’ve done. This is a case of what you’ve allowed to be done to you.

  DAVID But what? That’s all I’m asking—what? What are you accusing me of? What am I s
upposed to be? What crime have I committed?

  CARMICHAEL (gently, with a note of patient tolerance) We’re not accusing you of any crime, Graham. We are simply stating the fact of your relationship with Agronsky.

  DAVID But what was my relationship with Agronsky?

  CARMICHAEL That we don’t know, Graham. We’re not a loyalty board. We’re just two people caught in a part of the same circumstances that surround you.

  DAVID (with deep earnestness) Mr. Carmichael, do you think I’m a Communist?

  CARMICHAEL (spreading his hands gravely) What difference does it make, Graham?

  DAVID I think it makes some difference. I’m being fired for being a Communist without anyone asking me if I’m a Communist and without being given any chance to deny that I’m a Communist.

  CARMICHAEL You’re not being fired, Graham; you’re being asked to resign. And you’re not being asked to resign because anyone considers you to be a Communist.

  DAVID Then why on earth——

  SELWIN (interrupting) Graham, we’re none of us children. I don’t think you’re a Communist; I don’t think Mr. Carmichael considers you to be a Communist. Speaking for myself, I don’t consider you to be disloyal. I’ve never seen any evidence of disloyalty on your part. You were in the service, and you’ve got a good record. So there’s no use of us bickering about that like a pack of children. The truth of the matter is that in one way or another you’re mixed up with Agronsky. Your relationship with him may be of the most casual kind. I suspect it is. Unfortunately that makes no difference. It’s the fact of the relationship, not the nature of it, that becomes the determining thing here. I don’t even know if Agronsky is a Communist; I have no thoughts at all on that subject and I don’t know Agronsky personally. But I do know that Agronsky is coming up before a Congressional Committee on charges of being a Communist and of being mixed up with the Soviets or the party here or whatever it is. That means inevitably that every friend of Agronsky’s will be checked and will come up before a loyalty board if he’s a government worker. The choice to us—and to you—is whether you go before the board or resign. We think it will be better for everyone concerned if you resign.

  DAVID But I’ve got nothing to, hide. That’s what I’m trying to get across to you. Even if I went before a loyalty board, I could prove that I’ve got nothing to hide and that I did nothing disloyal.

  CARMICHAEL We’re trying to be reasonable and sane, Graham. Do you know what will happen if you go up before a loyalty board and they recommend you for discharge?

  DAVID Why should they? That’s just what I’m trying to find out.

  CARMICHAEL (smiling sympathetically) They have found out all they need, you know. You might have trouble ever working again—anywhere.

  SELWIN (to whom DAVID turns incredulously) That’s right, Graham. That’s something we can’t close our eyes to. It would be a hell of a thing to go out of here disloyal, but it would be almost inevitable. The facts cannot be avoided. It’s not what you are, but what your associates are.

  DAVID But don’t you see—they came to me about Agronsky.

  CARMICHAEL (with sudden interest) Who did?

  DAVID The Department of Justice. I even helped them—all I could help them.

  CARMICHAEL They don’t seem to look at it that way, Graham.

  DAVID (with sudden earnestness, leaning over the desk, his palms on it) Look, Mr. Carmichael, I don’t like to plead any more than anyone else does …

  (SELWIN watches a moment, then turns abruptly and goes to the window.)

  … but I think I deserve a break in this thing. Maybe I’ve lived to the last dollar I made and maybe that was wrong, but I’m broke now. I have a wife and a kid. Look—I was an infantryman, Mr. Carmichael. How could I be disloyal? I love my country as much as anyone does. My ancestors came over here in 1659 on my mother’s side, and even earlier on my father’s side. I’m not a Communist. I can give you my word of honour on that, my oath if you want it——

  CARMICHAEL (with sudden harshness) You don’t have to go into all that, Graham. I told you this isn’t something we decide. If you won’t accept our advice, if you prefer a board hearing—well, go to it. That’s all.

  DAVID (straightening up and looking at CARMICHAEL, the final realization of defeat having sunk home) I see. (He turns and walks slowly toward the door. SELWIN makes as to approach and say something, takes a few steps, then stops and watches DAVID exit in silence. Then SELWIN turns to CARMICHAEL, who is leaning back in his swivel chair, looking at the Jar wall reflectively.)

  CARMICHAEL Not well done, was it? You look sick, Selwin.

  SELWIN Do I?

  CARMICHAEL You have the most peculiar conscience, you know.

  SELWIN I’m beginning to think that any conscience is peculiar.

  CARMICHAEL You’re not the type for cynicism, Fred. Anyway, I can’t share your concern. That’s not a very admirable character. When the department came to him, he helped them, didn’t he? No great solicitude for Agronsky. Now it’s his turn. This is not an age for heroes, Fred. This is not an age for morality. We have only one measure.

  SELWIN What is that? I’m eager to learn.

  CARMICHAEL Power.

  SELWIN That’s not a very new concept, is it?

  CARMICHAEL But the form changes to fit new circumstances.

  SELWIN How are we changing it, Mr. Carmichael? I. find the pattern recognizable—highly so, and——

  CARMICHAEL (interrupting) I wouldn’t go on in that vein.

  SELWIN (He stares at CARMICHAEL for a moment, then smiles bitterly.) I understand perfectly, Mr. Carmichael.

  Curtain—End of Scene One—Act II

  Scene Two

  The same as Scene One, Act I, the living-room of the GRAHAM home; and the time is late afternoon, the same day as Scene One, Act II. As the curtain rises, HILDA comes down the stairs, LORRY trailing her. HILDA puts on two of the lamps, and then stands for a moment, irresolute, as if undecided as to her next step.

  LORRY (holding out a book she is carrying) Read me this, Hilda.

  HILDA What?

  LORRY You promised before to read this later. You said you would.

  HILDA (impatiently) Well, I can’t. I don’t have time. I got other things to do.

  LORRY Well, you promised me. You promised me.

  HILDA (angrily) Stop that—just stop that whining!

  (LORRY stares at her; the child’s face wrinkles and then she starts to cry.)

  Stop crying!

  LORRY I don’t like that face.

  HILDA What face?

  LORRY That face you got. Why can’t you have a happy face? Why can’t you?

  HILDA I just got damn little to be happy about.

  LORRY There—you said it. You said damn, and you’re mad at me, too. Why can’t you be happy at me?

  HILDA I’m not mad at you.

  (She gets down and takes LORRY in her arms.)

  Don’t you understand? I’m not mad at you—I’m mad at myself. I’m sick with myself. Anyway, I got to work. I got two years of stuff I been accumulating down in the cellar, and I got to sort it out and see what I want to keep and what I want to throw away.

  LORRY Let me help you, Hilda.

  HILDA (rising and looking at LORRY speculatively) All right. Come along.

  (They go out though the dining-room. A moment after they have left, the doorbell rings. A pause, and then it rings again.)

  JANE (from upstairs) Hilda!

  (The bell rings again.)

  HILDA—will you please answer.

  (Again the bell. JANE comes running down the stairs, tying a bathrobe around her. She opens the door.)

  Mildred—this is a surprise. A good one. I’m glad to see you.

  (MILDRED ANDREWS enters. She wears a print dress and high heels, and too much make-up for the afternoon. She carries three pastry boxes, tied together with thin string.)

  I’m this way.

  (JANE points to herself.)

  I had one of t
hose days.

  MILDRED You’re not ill?

  JANE No—just going insane. And now Hilda’s disappeared.

  MILDRED They’re all the same, aren’t they? Where shall I put these?

  JANE What are they?

  MILDRED Our winnings last night—just turned into pastry. I was at Lucille’s and everything looked so good and smelled so good——

  JANE (actually troubled) You shouldn’t have done that. Why did you, Mildred?

  MILDRED Because I despise winning at bridge—and playing it, too, especially the way Jim Andrews plays it.

  (She drops into a chair.)

  JANE I think he plays very well.

  MILDRED He does everything well, darling. That’s one of the attributes of his special type of louse. Will you make me a drink, honey? It’s half-past four. I’ve been watching—I don’t drink before five now. I’ll just play with it.

  (studying JANE curiously)

  What’s wrong?

  JANE Nothing. (She goes to the butler’s tray.) Mildred—why don’t you divorce him if you hate him that much?

  MILDRED It’s a living, isn’t it?—and anyway, I don’t hate him that much. Where’s your beautiful daughter?

  JANE With Hilda, I suppose. What’ ll you have?

  MILDRED Just put some rye or bourbon or whatever you have on a piece of ice.

  (While she speaks, she wanders around the room.)

  Anyway, he wouldn’t give it to me, that is, if I wanted it, and I don’t, I don’t think. It’s no asset to have a divorce in this town if you’re after a big type of career, and Andrews is going to be a Cabinet something or other some day, or an ambassador or something——

  (She takes the glass JANE holds out to her.)

  Won’t you have any?

  JANE I will.

  (She makes one for herself.)

  MILDRED To you, sweetie. You’re a doll.

  JANE Thanks.

  MILDRED Don’t go bitter on me. I couldn’t stand that.

  JANE I’m not bitter. I’m just all mixed up.

  MILDRED (sitting down) Who isn’t? At least, you have a man once in a while.

  JANE Yes.

  MILDRED That has all the elements of something in it, hasn’t it? What goes on with you two? Is it the Agronsky business?

  JANE How do you know about that?