Three Plays by Granville-Barker Part 40

MR. VOYSEY. [_hardening._] Trenchard! [_he dismisses that._] Well, you're a better man than Booth. Edward, you mustn't imagine that the whole world is standing on its head merely because you've had an unpleasant piece of news. You come down to Chislehurst to-night . .

well, say to-morrow night. It'll be good for you . . stop your brooding . . that's your worst vice, Edward. You'll find the household as if nothing had happened. Then you'll remember that nothing really has happened. And presently you'll get to see that nothing need happen, if you keep your head. I remember times, when things have seemed at their worst, what a relief it's been to me . . my romp with you all in the nursery just before your bed time. Do you remember?

EDWARD. Yes. I cut your head open once with that gun.

MR. VOYSEY. [_in a full glow of fine feeling._] And, my dear boy, if I knew that you were going to inform the next client you met of what I've just told you . .

EDWARD. [_with a shudder._] Oh, father!

MR. VOYSEY. . . And that I should find myself in prison to-morrow, I wouldn't wish a single thing I've ever done undone. I have never wilfully harmed man or woman. My life's been a happy one. Your dear mother has been spared to me. You're most of you good children and a credit to what I've done for you.

EDWARD. [_the deadly humour of this too much for him._] Father!

MR. VOYSEY. Run along now, run along. I must finish my letters and get into the City.

_He might be scolding a schoolboy for some trifling fault._ EDWARD _turns to have a look at the keen unembarra.s.sed face_. MR. VOYSEY _smiles at him and proceeds to select from the bowl a rose for his b.u.t.tonhole_.

EDWARD. I'll think it over, sir.

MR. VOYSEY. Of course, you will. And don't brood, Edward, don't brood.

_So_ EDWARD _leaves him; and having fixed the rose to his satisfaction, he rings his table telephone and calls through it to the listening clerk_.

Send Atkinson to me, please. [_Then he gets up, keys in hand to lock away Mrs. Murberry's and the Hatherley trust papers._]

THE SECOND ACT

_The_ VOYSEY _dining-room at Chislehurst, when children and grandchildren are visiting, is dining table and very little else. And at this moment in the evening when five or six men are sprawling back in their chairs, and the air is clouded with smoke, it is a very typical specimen of the middle-cla.s.s English domestic temple; the daily sacrifice consummated, the acolytes dismissed, the women safely in the drawing room, and the chief priests of it taking their surfeited ease round the dessert-piled altar. It has the usual red-papered walls, (like a refection, they are, of the underdone beef so much consumed within them) the usual varnished woodwork which is known as grained oak; there is the usual, hot, mahogany furniture; and, commanding point of the whole room, there is the usual black-marble sarcophagus of a fireplace.

Above this hangs one of the two or three oil paintings, which are all that break the red pattern of the walls, the portrait painted in 1880 of an undistinguished looking gentleman aged sixty; he is shown sitting in a more graceful att.i.tude than it could ever have been comfortable for him to a.s.sume._ MR. VOYSEY'S _father it is, and the bra.s.s plate at the bottom of the frame tells us that the portrait was a presentation one.

On the mantelpiece stands, of course, a clock; at either end a china vase filled with paper spills. And in front of the fire,--since that is the post of vantage, stands at this moment_ MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. _He is the second son, of the age that it is necessary for a Major to be, and of an appearance that many ordinary Majors in ordinary regiments are. He went into the army because he thought it would be like a schoolboy's idea of it; and, being there, he does his little all to keep it so. He stands astride, hands in pockets, coat-tails through his arms, cigar in mouth, moustache bristling. On either side of him sits at the table an old gentleman; the one is_ MR. EVAN COLPUS, _the vicar of their parish, the other_ MR. GEORGE BOOTH, _a friend of long standing, and the Major's G.o.dfather. Mr. Colpus is a harmless enough anachronism, except for the waste of 400 a year in which his stipend involves the community.

Leaving most of his parochial work to an energetic curate, he devotes his serious attention to the composition of two sermons a week. They deal with the difficulties of living the christian life as experienced by people who have nothing else to do. Published in series from time to time, these form suitable presents for bedridden paris.h.i.+oners._ MR.

GEORGE BOOTH, _on the contrary, is as gay an old gentleman as can be found in Chislehurst. An only son; his father left him at the age of twenty-five a fortune of a hundred thousand pounds (a plum, as he called it). At the same time he had the good sense to dispose of his father's business, into which he had been most unwillingly introduced five years earlier, for a like sum before he was able to depreciate its value. It was_ MR. VOYSEY'S _invaluable a.s.sistance in this transaction which first bound the two together in great friends.h.i.+p. Since that time Mr. Booth has been bent on nothing but enjoying himself. He has even remained a bachelor with that object. Money has given him all he wants, therefore he loves and reverences money; while his imagination may be estimated by the fact that he has now reached the age of sixty-five, still possessing more of it than he knows what to do with. At the head of the table, meditatively cracking walnuts, sits_ MR. VOYSEY. _He has his back there to the conservatory door--you know it is the conservatory door because there is a curtain to pull over it, and because half of it is frosted gla.s.s with a purple key pattern round the edge. On_ MR. VOYSEY'S _left is_ DENIS TREGONING, _a nice enough young man. And at the other end of the table sits_ EDWARD, _not smoking, not talking, hardly listening, very depressed. Behind him is the ordinary door of the room, which leads out into the dismal draughty hall. The Major's voice is like the sound of a cannon through the tobacco smoke._

MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. Of course I'm hot and strong for conscription . .

MR. GEORGE BOOTH. My dear boy, the country'd never stand it. No Englishman--

MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. [_dropping the phrase heavily upon the poor old gentleman._] I beg your pardon. If we . . the Army . . say to the country . . Upon our honour conscription is necessary for your safety . .

what answer has the country? What? [_he pauses defiantly._] There you are . . none!

TREGONING. Booth will imagine because one doesn't argue that one has nothing to say. You ask the country.

MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. Perhaps I will. Perhaps I'll chuck the Service and go into the House. [_then falling into the sing song of a favourite phrase._] I'm not a conceited man . . but I believe that if I speak out upon a subject I understand and only upon that subject the House will listen . . and if others followed my example we should be a far more business-like and go-ahead community.

_He pauses for breath and_ MR. BOOTH _seizes the opportunity_.

MR. GEORGE BOOTH. If you think the gentlemen of England will allow themselves to be herded with a lot of low fellers and made to carry guns--!

MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. [_obliterating him once more._] Just one moment.

Have you thought of the physical improvement which conscription would bring about in the manhood of the country? What England wants is Chest!

[_he generously inflates his own._] Chest and Discipline. I don't care how it's obtained. Why, we suffer from a lack of it in our homes--

MR. VOYSEY. [_with the crack of a nut._] Your G.o.dson talks a deal, don't he? You know, when Booth gets into a club, he gets on the committee . .

gets on any committee to enquire into anything . . and then goes on at 'em just like this. Don't you, Booth?

BOOTH _knuckles under easily enough to his father's sarcasm_.

MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. Well, sir, people tell me I'm a useful man on committees.

MR. VOYSEY. I don't doubt it . . your voice must drown all discussion.

MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. You can't say I don't listen to you, sir.

MR. VOYSEY. I don't . . and I'm not blaming you. But I must say I often think what a devil of a time the family will have with you when I'm gone. Fortunately for your poor mother, she's deaf.

MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. And wouldn't you wish me, sir, as eldest son . . .

Trenchard not counting . . .

MR. VOYSEY. [_with the crack of another nut._] Trenchard not counting.

By all means, bully them. Get up your subjects a bit better, and then bully them. I don't manage things that way myself, but I think it's your best chance . . if there weren't other people present I'd say your only chance, Booth.

MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. [_with some discomfort._] Ha! If I were a conceited man, sir, I could trust you to take it out of me.

MR. VOYSEY. [_as he taps_ MR. BOOTH _with the nut crackers_.] Help yourself, George, and drink to your G.o.dson's health. Long may he keep his chest notes! Never heard him on parade, have you?

TREGONING. I notice military men must display themselves . . that's why Booth acts as a firescreen. I believe that after mess that position is positively rushed.

MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. [_cheering to find an opponent he can tackle._] If you want a bit of fire, say so, you sucking Lord Chancellor. Because I mean to allow you to be my brother-in-law, you think you can be impertinent.

_So_ TREGONING _moves to the fire and that changes the conversation_.

MR. VOYSEY. By the bye, Vicar, you were at Lady Mary's yesterday. Is she giving us anything towards that window?

MR. COLPUS. Five pounds more; she has promised me five pounds.

MR. VOYSEY. Then how will the debt stand?

MR. COLPUS. Thirty-three . . no, thirty-two pounds.

MR. VOYSEY. We're a long time clearing it off.

MR. COLPUS. [_gently querulous._] Yes, now that the window is up, people don't seem so ready to contribute as they were.

TREGONING. We must mention that to Hugh!