Possession: A Peep-Show in Paradise Part 1

Possession.

by Laurence Housman.

Introduction

THIS play--originally intended to form part of _Angels and Ministers_--was separated on an after-thought as a concession to those who do not like to have their politics and their religion mixed. And, as the Victorian age was eminently successful in keeping the two apart, it is 'in keeping,' in another sense, with the Victorianism of the religion here portrayed that it should make its appearance under a separate cover.

As some of my critics seem anxious to trace the inspiration of these Victorian plays to an outside source, and are divided, as regards the historical section, between the _Abraham Lincoln_ of Mr. John Drinkwater and the _Queen Victoria_ of Mr. Lytton Strachey, may I a.s.sure them that my historical method of treating Kings and Queens 'intimately' was derived from my own play _Pains and Penalties_, published in 1911, and that my anthropomorphic theology is based upon the first book I ever wrote, _G.o.ds and their Makers_, published in 1897. I do not think that _Possession_ owes anything either to _Cranford_ or the writings of Mrs.

Humphry Ward.

Possession

SCENE.--_The Everlasting Habitations_

_It is evening (or so it seems), and to the comfortably furnished Victorian drawing-room a middle-aged maid-servant in cap and ap.r.o.n brings a lamp, and proceeds to draw blinds and close curtains. To do this she pa.s.ses the fire-place, where before a pleasantly bright hearth sits, comfortably sedate, an elderly lady whose countenance and att.i.tude suggest the very acme of genteel repose. She is a handsome woman, very conscious of herself, but carrying the burden of her importance with an ease which, in her own mind, leaves nothing to be desired. The once-striking outline of her features has been rounded by good feeding to a softness which is merely physical; and her voice, when she speaks, has a calculated gentleness very caressing to her own ear, and a little irritating to others who are not of an inferior cla.s.s. Menials like it, however. The room, though over-upholstered, and not furnished with any more individual taste than that which gave its generic stamp to the great Victorian period, is the happy possessor of some good things._ _Upon the mantel-shelf, backed by a large mirror, stands old china in alternation with alabaster jars, under domed shades, and tall vases encompa.s.sed by pendant ringlets of gla.s.s-l.u.s.tre. Rose-wood, walnut, and mahogany make a well-wooded interior; and in the dates thus indicated there is a touch of Georgian. But, over and above these mellowing features of a respectable ancestry, the annunciating Angel of the Great Exhibition of 1851 has spread a brooding wing. And while the older articles are treasured on account of family a.s.sociation, the younger and newer stand erected in places of honour by reason of an intrinsic beauty never previously attained to. Through this chamber the das.h.i.+ng crinoline has wheeled the too vast orb of its fate, and left fifty years after (if we may measure the times of Heaven by the ticks of an earthly chronometer) a mark which nothing is likely to erase. Upon the small table, where Hannah the servant deposits the lamp, lies a piece of crochet-work. The fair hands that have been employed on it are folded on a lap of corded silk representing the fas.h.i.+ons of the nineties, and the grey-haired beauty (that once was) sits contemplative, wearing a cap of creamish lace, tastefully arranged, not unaware that in the entering lamp-light, and under the fire's soft glow of approval, she presents to her domestic's eye an improving picture of gentility. It is to Miss Julia Robinson's credit--and she herself places it there emphatically--that she always treats_ _servants humanly, though at a distance. And when she now speaks she confers her slight remark just a little as though it were a favour._

JULIA. How the days are drawing out, Hannah.

HANNAH. Yes, Ma'am; nicely, aren't they?

(_For Hannah, being old-established, may say a thing or two not in the strict order. In fact, it may be said that, up to a well-understood point, character is encouraged in her, and is allowed to peep through in her remarks._)

JULIA. What time is it?

HANNAH (_looking with better eyes than her mistress at the large ormolu clock which records eternally the time of the great Exhibition_). Almost a quarter to six, Ma'am.

JULIA. So late? She ought to have been here long ago.

HANNAH. Who, Ma'am, did you say, Ma'am?

JULIA. My sister, Mrs. James. You remember?

HANNAH. What, Miss Martha, Ma'am? Well!

JULIA. No, it's Miss Laura this time: you didn't know she had married, I suppose?

HANNAH (_with a world of meaning, well under control_). No, Ma'am. (_A pause._) I made up the bed in the red room; was that right, Ma'am?

JULIA (_archly surprised_). What? Then you knew someone was coming? Why did you pretend, Hannah?

HANNAH. Well, Ma'am, you see, you hadn't _told_ me before.

JULIA. I couldn't. One cannot always be sure. (_This mysteriously._) But something tells me now that she is to be with us. I have been expecting her over four days.

HANNAH (_picking her phrases a little, as though on doubtful ground_). It must be a long way, Ma'am. Did she make a comfortable start, Ma'am?

JULIA. Very quietly, I'm told. No pain.

HANNAH. I wonder what she'll be able to eat now, Ma'am. She was always very particular.

JULIA. I daresay you will be told soon enough. (_Thus in veiled words she conveys that Hannah knows something of Mrs. James's character._)

HANNAH (_resignedly_). Yes, M'm.

JULIA. I don't think I'll wait any longer. If you'll bring in tea now.

Make enough for two, in case: pour it off into another pot, and have it under the tea-cosy.

HANNAH. Yes, Ma'am.

(_Left alone, the dear lady enjoys the sense of herself and the small world of her own thoughts in solitude. Then she sighs indulgently._)

JULIA. Yes, I suppose I would rather it had been Martha. Poor Laura!

(_She puts out her hand for her crochet, when it is arrested by the sound of a knock, rather rapacious in character._) Ah, that's Laura all over!

(_Seated quite composedly and fondling her well-kept hands, she awaits the moment of arrival. Very soon the door opens, and the over-expected Mrs. James--a luxuriant garden of widow's weeds, enters. She is a lady more strongly and sharply featured than her sister, but there is nothing thin-lipped about her; with resolute eye and mouth a little grim, yet pleased at so finding herself, she steps into this chamber of old memories and cherished possessions, which translation to another and a better world has made hers again. For a moment she sees the desire of her eyes and is satisfied; but for a moment only. The apparition of another already in possession takes her aback._)

JULIA (_with soft effusiveness_). Well, Laura!

LAURA (_startled_). Julia!

JULIA. _Here_ you are!

LAURA. Whoever thought of finding you?

JULIA (_sweetly_). Didn't you?

(_They have managed to embrace: but Laura continues to have her grievance._)

LAURA. No! not for a moment. I really think they might have told me. What brought you?

JULIA. Our old home, Laura. It was a natural choice, I think: as one was allowed to choose. I suppose you were?

LAURA (_her character showing_). I didn't ask anyone's leave to come.

JULIA. And how are you?

LAURA. I don't know; I want my tea.

JULIA. Hannah is just bringing it.

LAURA. Who's Hannah?

JULIA. _Our_ Hannah: our old servant. Didn't _she_ open the door to you?