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F. Glazer. Scene designed by H. Devitt

       Welsh. Costumes designed by Martha G. Speiser.

CHARACTERS

A Beggar A Townsman A Townswoman Their Seven-year-old Son An Artist An American A Cocotte A Waiter A Workingman A Young Man Two Officers The Crowd

Place: Paris.

Time: Present.

On the banks of the Seine.

      The play was later produced by the Washington Square Players, at the Comedy Theatre, New York City. The professional and amateur stage rights are reserved by the translator, Mr. Benjamin F. Glazer, Editorial Department, The Press, Philadelphia, Pa., to whom all requests for permission to produce the play should be made.

ALTRUISM

       Table of Contents

      A Satire

      By Karl Ettlinger

      [In the background the end of a pier. On a post hangs a rope and a life buoy. Close by the Beggar is sitting on the floor. At right a street café; two tables stand under the open sky on the street. At one of the tables sits the Waiter, reading a newspaper. At the other sits the Cocotte and the blond Young Man. At left on a public bench sits the Artist. He has a sketch book and pencil with which he is drawing the Cocotte, who has noticed it and is flirting with him.]

      [Lady xes from Left to Right.]

      [Man xes from Right to Left.]

      Beggar [sings]:

      Kind sir, have pity while you can,

       Remember the old beggar man

       The poor beggar man.

      Waiter [sitting at table, R. C., looks up from his newspaper]. Shut up!

      Beggar. Don't get fresh! I was once a head waiter!

      Waiter. That must have been a fine place.

      Beggar. It was too. I traveled all around the world as a waiter. I saw better days before I became a beggar.

      Young Man [at table Left, fondly to the Cocotte]. Indeed if I were a millionaire—my word of honor I would buy you an automobile. Nothing would be too dear for you.

      Cocotte [at table Left]. My darling Kangaroo. How liberal you are. I am sure I am your first love.

      Young Man. Yes—you are—that is if I don't count the cook who has been at our house for five years—yes, on my word of honor.

      [He finishes in pantomime.]

      Beggar [to Waiter]: Yes, yes, one goes down. Life is a tight rope dance—before you look around you've lost your balance, and are lying in the dirt.

      Waiter [laying aside the paper]. You ought to go to work. That would do you more good than talking.

      Beggar. I've tried working too. But work for our kind is the surest way to remain poor. And, do you know, begging is no pleasure either. To get the money centime by centime and no rest from the police—well, well, if I'm born into this world again I will become a government official.

      [A man passes. Enter lady from Left. Stops lady Center. Sings and holds out his hat.]

      The rich man in his banquet hall,

       Has everything I long for!

       The poor man gets the scraps that fall;

       That's what I sing this song for.

       Kind sir, have pity while you can—

      [Man exit Left.]

      Do you see? he doesn't give me anything! (Social enlightenment ends with the lower classes. That is where need is greatest and the police are thickest.)

      Young Man [to the Cocotte]. I would buy you a flying machine too, but you shouldn't fly alone in it—Ah, to soar with you a thousand meters above the earth—and far and wide nothing—only you and our love—

      Cocotte. What a wonderful boy you are.

      [She flirts with the Artist.]

      Beggar. How often have I wanted to commit suicide. But why should I gratify my fellow man by doing that?—suicide is the one sin I can see nothing funny in. I always say to myself, so long as there's a jail one can never starve.

      Waiter. You have no dignity.

      Beggar. No. My dignity was taken away from me ten years ago by the law. But I'm not so sure I want it back.

      Waiter [in disgust]. I ought to call the cops and have them drive you away from here.

      Beggar [confidentially]. You wouldn't do that. Only yesterday I paid my colleagues 20 francs for this place. [Searches in his pockets.] Here is a receipt. I won't go away from here unless the police carry me away in their arms. The police seem to be the only people who make a fuss over me these days. [Laughs.]

      Waiter. Disgusting old beggar. Why on earth such people—[The rest is lost in his teeth.]

      [The Townsman, the Townswoman, and their child enter. The Townsman carries the child on his shoulder and is perspiring from the exertion.]

      [Waiter X to Right of Table. Beggar goes up stage Center.]

      Townswoman [center Left with boy; sighs]. That is all I have to say, just let me come to that. Just let me come to it. On the spot I'll get a divorce.

      Townsman [following her]. Give me your word of honor on it.

      Townsman. Now I know what they mean when they say that all men were polygamists.

      Townsman. Calm yourself, old woman. It's all theoretical that married women are good cooks and married men are polygamists.

      Beggar.

      The rich man in his banquet hall

       Has everything I long for!

       The poor....

      Townsman. Let him banquet in peace.

      [They sit at the table from which the Waiter has just risen.]

      Child. I want to give the poor man something. Papa! Money! Papa! Money!

      Townsman [kisses child]. A heart of gold has my little Phillip. A disposition like butter. He gets that from me.

      Townsman. What? Asking for money or the oleo margerine disposition?

      Child. When I give the poor man something he makes a funny face and I have to laugh. Papa, money!

      Townsman. Since I've been married I make all kinds of faces, but no one gives me anything. [Searches in his pocket book.] Too bad, I've nothing smaller than a centime piece.

      Townsman. Of course, you'd rather bring up our Phillip to have a heart of stone. Children should be taught to love people. They must be brought up in that way—to have regard and respect for the most unfortunate fellow beings—How that woman is perfumed. Women like that shouldn't be permitted in the city.

      Young Man [to the Cocotte]. I would buy you two beautiful air ships, a half moon for week days and a star for Sundays. All my millions I would lay at your feet. [Raising his hand.] Waiter—another glass of water, please.

      Cocotte. I'd like to kiss you, my little wild horse.

      [Waiter dusts table, Right Center. Flirts with the Artist.]

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