A View from the Bridge - Alfieri

All right.

You won't touch him. This is your promise. This is not God, Marco. You hear? Only God makes justice.

That's what I wanted to ask you.

Because there's nothing illegal about a girl falling in love with an immigrant.

All right. I'm talking to you confidential, ain't I?

Certainly.

I know what's in his mind Mr. Alfieri!

Eddie, even if you could prove that-

I know a tenor, Mr. Alfieri. This ain't no tenor. I mean if you came in the house and you didn't know who was singin', you wouldn't be lookin' for him you be lookin' for her.

Eddie, look. I understand you. But the law is very specific. There is nothing you can do, Eddie, believe me.

Yeah, what about it if the only reason for it is to get his papers?

First of all you don't know that... I'm a lawyer. I can only deal in what's provable. You understand that, don't you? Can you prove that?

It just- it's breakin' my heart, y'know.

I understand. Put it out of your mind. Can you do that?

He's stealing from me!

She wants to get married, Eddie-she can't marry you, can she?

EDDIE: Hey, kid- hey, wait a minute- Look, kid; you don't want to be picked up, do ya? MARCO: (rises) No- no! EDDIE: Because we never had no singers here... and all of a sudden there's a singer in the house. Y'know what I mean? (Rodolpho nods)

(Lights down. Lights up on Alfieri) Who can never know what will be discovered? Eddie Carbone had never expected to have a destiny. A man works, raises his family, goes bowling, eats, gets old, and then dies. Now, as the weeks passed, there was a future, there was a trouble that would not go away.

I'm- I'll see you around.

These are times when you want to spread an alarm, but nothing has happened. I knew, I knew then and there- I could have finished the whole story that afternoon. It wasn't as though there was a mystery to unravel, I could see every step coming, step after step, like a dark figure walking down a hall toward certain door. I knew where he was heading for, I knew where he was going to end. And I sat here many afternoons asking myself why, I was so powerless to stop it. (Lights down)

I mean it don't go no place but here. Because I don't like to say this about anybody. Even my wife I didn't exactly say this.

What is it?

But him?-there is still a chance, eh?

When she marries him he can start to become an American. They permit that, if the wife is born here.

What do you mean, I shouldn't look out for her good?

Yes, but these things have to end, Eddie, that's all. The child has to grow up and go away, and the man has to learn to forget. Because after all, Eddie-what other way can it end? Let her go. That's my advice. You did your job, now it's her life; wish her luck, and let her go. The law is not interested in this.

Marco never hurt anybody.

I can bail you out until your hearing comes up. But I'm not going to do it, you understand me? Unless I have your promise. You're an honorable man, I will believe your promise. Now what do you say?

EDDIE: Oh, you mother's- FIRST OFFICER: Cut it out! EDDIE: I'll kill you for that! I don't forget that Marco! You hear what I'm sayin'?

I'm waiting, Marco, what do you say?

Eddie: Then why- Oh, Bea! Beatrice: Yes, yes! Eddie: My Bea...!

Most of the time now we settle for half and I like it better. But the Truth is holy, and even as I know how wrong he was, and his death useless, I tremble-for I confess that something perversely pure calls to me from his memory- not purely good, but himself purely, for he allowed himself to be wholly known and for that I think I will love him more than all my sensible clients. And yet, it is better to settle for half, it must be! And so I mourn him- I admit it- with a certain... alarm. Curtain

I have no chance?

No, Marco. You're going back. The hearing is a formality, that's all.

Nothin'.

Nothing at all. There's only one legal question.

BEATRICE: That's enough. Eddie. EDDIE: He could be very good, Marco. I'll teach him again.

On the twenty third of that December there was no snow, but it was cold, his wife was out shopping. Marco was still at work. The boy had not been hired that day; Catherine told me later that this was the first time they had been alone together in the house. (Lights out and up on the living room)

EDDIE: I don't care what question it is. You. Don't. Know. Nothin'. They got stool pigeons all over this neighborhood they're payin' them every week for information, and you don't know who they are. It could be your best friend. You hear? (Catherine shakes her head) Remember, kid, you can quickerr get back a million dollars that was stole than a word that you gave away. CATHERINE: Okay, I won't say a word to nobody, I swear.

(The lights go down and come up on Alfieri) He was as good a man as he had to be in a life that was hard and even. He worked on the piers when there was work, he brought home his pay, and he lived. And toward ten o' clock of that night, after they had eaten, the cousins came.

He sings, see. Which is- I mean it's all right, but sometimes he hits a note, see. I turn around. I mean- high. You know what I mean?

Well, that's called a tenor.

Mr. Alfieri, I can't believe what you tell me. I mean there must be some kinda law which-

Eddie, I want you to listen to me. We all love somebody, the wife, the kids... every man's got somebody that he loves, heh? But sometimes... there's too much. You know? There's too much, and it goes where it mustn't. A man works hard, he brings up a child, sometimes a niece, sometimes even a daughter, and never realizes it, but through the years- there is too much love for the daughter, there is too much love for the niece. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?

All right.

Good!

You mean...?

Well, they entered illegally...

BEATRICE: I'm telling you. It's wonderful for a whole family to love each other, but you're a grown woman and you're in the same house with a grown man. So you'll act different now, heh? CATHERINE: Yeah, I will.

It was at this time that he came to me. I remember him now as he walked through the doorway. His eyes were like tunnels; my first thought was that he had committed a crime. But soon I saw it was only a passion that had moved into his body, like a stranger. (To Eddie) I don't quite understand what I can do for you. Is there a question of law somewhere?

I don't understand this country.

Well? What is your answer? You have five or six weeks you could work. Or else you sit here. What do you say to me?

What?

The manner in which they entered the country. But I don't think you want to do anything about that, do you?

The guy ain't right, Mr. Alfieri.

What do you mean?

RODOLPHO: Marco, tell the man. MARCO: He knows such a promise is dishonorable.

To promise not to kill is not dishonorable.

(start of show)

You wouldn't have known it, but something amusing has just happened. I am a lawyer. In this neighborhood to meet a lawyer or a priest on the street is unlucky. We're only thought of in the connection with disasters. A lawyer means the law, and I am inclined to notice the ruins in things. This is Red Hook, this is the slum that faces the bay on the seaward side of Brooklyn Bridge. My wife has warned me, so have my friends; they tell me the people in this neighborhood lack elegance, glamour. After all, who have I dealt with all my life? Longshoremen and their wives, and fathers and grandfathers, compensation cases, evictions, family squabbles, the petty troubles of the poor - and yet . . . every few years there is still a case, and, another lawyer, quite differently dressed, heard the same complaint and sat there as powerless as I, and watched it run its bloody course. This one's name was Eddie Carbone, a longshoreman working the docks from Brooklyn Bridge to the breakwater where the open sea begins. (Alfieri walks into darkness.)