Part 10 (2/2)

It happened to be just before Christmas of last year. The season some way impressed itself on me, and I began to think what a desolate place New York must be for a lot of fellows who had come here from small towns and who were thinking of the homes they had left there, and longing to go back to them for the Christmas season. Doubtless there are hundreds of them here who came here years ago vowing that they would never go back till they had ”made good,” with the result that they have never since spent Christmas in the old home. [_The initial idea._] There is always somebody to whom we are always successful, and some one to whom we are never successful, and many times, if these fellows would go back to their old homes, among the people who really care for them, they would be regarded as successes, whereas in the great city they are looked upon as failures. [_Type character._]

It seemed to me that a character of that kind would make a good subject for a play, and then I began to look around for some one tangible to work from. Suddenly I thought of a newspaper man I used to know when I lived at a boarding house on 51st Street, here in New York. He was a free lance, and a grouchy, rheumatic, envious, bitter fellow, who had all the ”dope” on life--was a philosopher and could tell every one else how to live, but didn't seem to be able to apply any of his knowledge to himself. He wouldn't even speak to any one in the boarding house but me, and why he singled me out for the honor I don't know. But anyway he did, and he used to tell me all of his troubles--how he had come from a little town with great ambitions, and had vowed never to go back till he had attained all that he had set out to get. And yet he had never been back. He was a failure; dressed shabbily and had given up hope for himself--and still, as I say, he could tell everybody else just what to do to succeed. When I lived there in the boarding house and used to see him, I thought he was the only one of his kind in town, but since then I have found that there are many others just like him. [_Individual character._]

So it occurred to me that he would be a good subject for _The Country Boy_, and I worked out his life as it had actually been lived here in New York. Though the character was good I presently discovered that it would not do for my central figure, for the reason that he had been here too long. He had gone through the mill and knew all about it, and what I really needed was a boy who could be shown to come from the country, and who could be taken through the temptations and discouragements that a boy of that sort would have to endure. So I just drew this younger character from my imagination. [_Selection of special figure._]

I had to have this chap a b.u.mptious, conceited sort of youth so as to have the contrast stronger when he met the hard knocks that were to come to him in the city. There are many boys of that sort in small towns. They do not see the opportunities around them but imagine nothing short of a big city has s.p.a.ce enough for them to develop in.

[_Purpose determining characterization._][15]

From idea through type-character to the individual Mr. Selwyn worked to the life in New York of the older man, and the story of the temptations and discouragements of the boy. When he had reached these, Mr. Selwyn saw that the best story for his purpose would be a mingling of the two.

The boy ”worked, in very well with the character of the old newspaper man, because it allowed him to give the youngster the benefit of his experience, and to succeed eventually by taking advantage of it. That brought a happy ending for both of them.”[16]

Any one of these stories as it lay in the mind of Mr. Selwyn before he turned it into plot, was a sequence of incidents, actions ill.u.s.trative of one or both of the two characters, and, through them, of the original idea. Just what is meant by this ”ill.u.s.trative action” so often mentioned? In _Les Oberle_, by Rene Bazin, is a charming chapter describing the Alsatian vintage festival. At their work the women sing the song of the Black Bow of Alsace--in the novel but one detail of an interesting description. The account comes about midway in the book.

When the novel was dramatized it became necessary to make the audience understand, even before the hero, Jean, enters in Act I, that absorbed in his studies in Germany, he has been unaware of the constant friction in the home land between the governing Germans and the Alsatians. Here is the way the dramatist, emotionalizing the description of the novel, turned it into dramatic ill.u.s.tration of Jean's ignorance of the condition of the country. Uncle Ulrich, Bastian, a neighbor, and his daughter, Odile, at sunset are waiting in a wood road for Jean, just arrived from Germany and walking home from the station.

(_Outside a voice sings as it approaches in the distance._)

_The Black Bow of the daughters of Alsace Is like a bird with spreading wings._

_Ulrich._ Ah, look there! Who can be so imprudent as to sing that air of Alsace?

_The Voice._ _It can overpa.s.s the mountains._

_Bastian._ If it should be he!

_The Voice_.

_And watch what goes on there._

_Odile._ I am sure it is Jean's voice.

_Ulrich._ Foolhardy! They will hear him!

_The Voice._ (_Nearer._) _The Black Bow of the daughters of Alsace--_

_Ulrich._ Again, and louder than ever!

_The Voice._ _Is like a cross we carry In memory of those men and women Whose souls were like our own._

_Ulrich._ Jean! Upon my word that young lawyer cannot know the laws.

Jean![17]

Just at the end of the same act it is necessary to ill.u.s.trate the constant presence, the activity and alertness of the German forces and the irritation all this means to the Alsatians. In a story much of this would be described by the author. In the play we feel with each of the speakers the irritating presence of the troops, and so have perfect dramatic ill.u.s.trative action.

(_They are just starting off when Bastian stops them._)

_Bastian._ Chut!

_Jean._ What?

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