The Ruling Class (Modern Plays)

by Peter Barnes

  Dr Herder His Lordship is a paranoid schizophrenic

  Sir Charles But he’s a Gurney.

  Dr Herder Then he’s a paranoid-schizophrenic Gurney who believes he’s God.

  Sir Charles But we’ve always been Church of England.

  Dr Herder In paranoid schizophrenia the patient’s relationship with reality is disturbed. His idea of the world we live in is determined solely by his feelings. What he feels is – is.

  Sir Charles If my nephew’s bonkers, why the blazes did you let him out?

  Dr Herder He’s a voluntary patient in a private clinic, free to leave when he chooses. His father insisted on no official certification. If you want him permanently detained here, bring him before the Board of Control or get the Master in Lunacy to sign an order.

  Sir Charles Er – later, when we’ve got a few things settled.

  Dr Herder From the medical point of view a plunge into the waking world won’t do the Earl any harm.

  Sir Charles Won’t do him any harm. What about the rest of us?

  Dr Herder He’s not dangerous. Provided he’s left relatively secluded it shouldn’t be too difficult. It’ll be a very interesting experiment. A harsh dose of reality can sometimes help towards a cure.

  Sir Charles Cure! You’ve had him here for seven years already, and look at him. What’ve you been doing?

  Dr Herder Exercising patience and understanding. Something he’ll need from his family.

  Sir Charles (testily) Yes, yes, but why haven’t you used the knife?

  Dr Herder Because labotomy is irrelevant and dangerous in this case. He showed classic schizophrenic symptoms by withdrawing from his environment. Then, of course, he never forgot being brutally rejected by his mother and father at the age of eleven. They sent him away, alone, into a primitive community of licensed bullies and pederasts.

  Sir Charles You mean he went to public school.

  Herder nods and they begin to walk slowly to the wings left. Spot follows them, while another spot remains on the white backing, which is taken up to show the Earl of Gurney standing in exactly the same place as before, centre stage.

  Dr Herder You must realise the Earl’s strange position. It’s what makes him such an interesting case. Remember, he’s suffering from delusions of grandeur. In reality he’s an Earl, an English aristocrat, a peer of the realm, a member of the ruling class. Naturally, he’s come to believe there’s only one person grander than that – the Lord God Almighty Himself.

  Sir Charles (suspiciously) Are you English?

  Dr Herder No.

  Sir Charles Ahhh . . .

  They exit.

  Scene Four

  Spot on the Earl, stage centre, remains.

  Earl of Gurney (looking after them) Q.E.D. If I saw a man eating grass I’d say he was hungry. They’d have him certified. They claim snow is only precipitation and not candied dew, and the single heartbeat only the contraction and dilation of the central organ of the vascular system. Whroom. (He makes a circular motion with his right hand.) I’m always thinking so fast. Could a rooster forget he was a rooster and lay an egg? Whroom. Space and time only exist within the walls of my brain. What I’m trying to say is, if the words sound queer or funny to your ear, a little bit jumbled and jivy, sing mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy. Ivy? Who’s Ivy? . . . I . . .

  Lights come up to show Claire listening attentively on sofa.

  Earl of Gurney I am that Lord Jesus come again in my body to save the sick, the troubled, the ignorant. I am He that liveth and behold I am alive for everyone. (Opens his arms mimicking American nightclub entertainer Ted Lewis.) Is everybody happy? Now hear this, I come to proclaim the new Dispensation. The Gospel Dispensation promised only salvation for the soul, my new Dispensation of Love gives it to the body as well. J. Christ Mark I suffered to redeem the spirit and left the body separated from God, so Satan found a place in man, and formed in him a false consciousness, a false love, a love of self. EXPLODE only FEEL, LOVE, and sin no more. Most everything you see, touch and FEEL glorifies my love. (Mimes putting on a hat.) The top hat is my mitre and the walking stick my rod. (Twirls imaginary stick.) I’m sorry. I really must apologise. Once I get started I find it damnable difficult to stop. They diagnose it as arbitrary discharge from the speech centre. Diarrhoea of the mouth. Nobody else gets much of a look in.

  Claire It’s fascinating.

  Earl of Gurney If there’s anything you’d like me to explain, fire away.

  Claire How do you know you’re . . . God?

  Earl of Gurney Simple. When I pray to Him I find I’m talking to myself.

  Claire I see. How did it happen? How did you come to be in this state . . . of grace?

  Earl of Gurney Like every prophet I saw visions, heard voices. I ran but the voices of St Francis, Socrates, General Gordon and Tim O’Leary the Jewish Buddha all told me I was God. Pretty reliable witnesses – agreed? It was Sunday August 25th at 3.32 standard British Summer Time. I heard with my outward ear a terrible thunderclap and I saw a great body of light like the light from the sun, and red as fire, in the form of a drum. I clapped my hands and cried Amen! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Amen! I cried out, Lord what will you do? But the light vanished . . . a blackness of darkness until a great brush dipped in light swept across the sky. And I saw the distinction, diversity, variety, all clearly rolled up into the unity of Universal Love.

  Claire Where did all this happen?

  Earl of Gurney East Acton. Outside the public urinal.

  Claire What does it feel like to be God?

  Earl of Gurney Like a river flowing over everything. I pick up a newspaper and I’m everywhere, conducting a Summit Conference, dying of hunger in a Peruvian gutter, accepting the Nobel Prize for Literature, raping a nun in Sumatra.

  Claire You don’t look any different.

  Earl of Gurney (starts taking off his monk’s habit) When a parasite called the Sacculina attacks the common shore crab, it bores a tiny hole through the crab’s protective outer shell. Once in the body it spreads like a root devouring the tissues and turning the flesh to pulp. It’s no longer crab’s flesh but Sacculina. The crab is transformed, even its sex changes. The outer shell remains unaltered, but inside is a new creature. (He is dressed underneath in a loose-fitting white tropical suit and Eton tie: his hair cascades over his shoulder.) I was devoured by the Divine Sacculina, it hollowed me out. Under this protective shell I’m God-filled.

  Tucker stands in the doorway upstage centre. Sir Charles, with a briefcase under his arm, comes in behind him.

  Tucker Your Lordship, Sir . . .

  As Sir Charles impatiently brushes past, Tucker grabs the bottom of his jacket and jerks him back.

  Sir Charles What in . . . ?

  Tucker I haven’t finished yet, Sir Charles. (Continuing unruffled.) Your Lordship, Sir Charles Gurney.

  He steps aside, lets the furious Sir Charles into the room, then exits.

  Sir Charles Insolent clown!

  Tucker (reappearing) I heard that, sir.

  He disappears again.

  Sir Charles The world’s gone mad. He’ll have to go.

  Claire Hadn’t we better wait till things get sorted out? Someone new might not understand the situation.

  Sir Charles (opening his briefcase on desk) How come he’s still here anyway, with twenty thousand in the bank? Why’s he hanging on?

  Earl of Gurney Out of love. He knows he’s needed.

  Sir Charles (taking out a document) Love? Tucker? Rot. Now, m’boy, certain matters concerning the estate need clearing up. Nothing important. Just needs your signature. Gives me power to handle odd things.

  Earl of Gurney Of course, Uncle. (Crosses to him, putting on glasses.)

  Sir Charles (hastily) You don’t have to read it. Just take my word.

  Earl of Gurney I take your word. I put on my glasses because I feel cold. Need one of Dr Jaegers’ Sanitary Woollens to keep my soul-duft in. Where do I sign?

  Sir Cha
rles Just there.

  The Earl signs with a flourish. Sir Charles glances triumphantly at Claire.

  Sir Charles Excellent. Excellent. Easily done, eh? (Reads.) ‘I the undersigned . . . Mycroft Holmes? Who’s Mycroft Holmes?

  Tucker (entering carrying robes and coronet) Brother of Sherlock Holmes, illiterate oaf!

  Sir Charles But your name’s Jack!

  Earl of Gurney Never call me that! (Strokes forehead.) Jack’s a word I reject absolutely. It’s a word I put into my galvanised pressure-cooker, whrr . . .

  Claire Your pressure-cooker?

  Earl of Gurney I don’t mince words. I prefer them parboiled, fried or scrambled. Jack’s dead! It’s my old shellname – a sham name.

  Claire All right, what should we call you then?

  Earl of Gurney Any of the nine billion names of God. My Lordship will do, or J.C., Eric, Bert, Barney Entwistle. I don’t need to cling to one name. I know exactly who I am.

  Tucker (indicating robes) You asked for these, my Lord.

  Earl of Gurney Burn ’em, Mr Tucker. Burn ’em.

  Sir Charles What? Great Scott, man, these are your coronation robes! Marks of our elevation.

  Tucker Lot of tradition here, Your Lordship.

  Earl of Gurney The axe must be laid to the root. Pomp and riches, pride and property will have to be lopped off. All men are brothers. Love makes all equal. The mighty must bow down before the pricks of the louse-ridden rogues. (Suddenly warmly embraces Sir Charles.) I love you dearly, Uncle Charles. (Gestures to robes.) Keep them if you feel so lost. But soon you will abandon everything to follow me. Come, Mr Tucker, join me in a constitutional before lunch.

  Tucker dumps the robes and they move to French windows stage right.

  Earl of Gurney Enjoy yourself whilst I’m gone. Relax. Have sex.

  He exits with Tucker. Claire and Sir Charles look after him.

  Sir Charles My God!

  Earl of Gurney (popping his head back) Yes?

  Claire No, no. Nothing.

  The Earl exits again.

  Claire Well, you heard what he said, Charles.

  Sir Charles (trembling with rage) I did . . . bowing before rogues . . . destroying property . . . all men equal . . . (Pointing after the Earl.) My God, Claire, he’s not only mad, he’s Bolshie!

  Lights down.

  Scene Five

  Spot up immediately on a metal sun lowered from flies, downstage centre. Footlights up as Tucker and the Earl of Gurney enter wings right.

  Earl of Gurney Just smell that soul-dust from the lawns and hedgerows. What a beautiful day I’ve made. Look – Soft Thistle and Nigella. (Crouches down.) My sweet poetics. (Ear to imaginary flower.) What? No water in days. I can’t be expected to think of everything. I’ll see to it. Remember the Sunday picnics here, Mr Tucker, in my old shell-days? The world was all top hats and white lace.

  Tucker (taking out a hip flask) And the best heavy silverware. A snort, your lordship?

  Earl of Gurney Not during Yom Kippur.

  Tucker You mind if I partake?

  Earl of Gurney Go ahead. I’m God-intoxicated. If only I knew then who I was now. (Stretching out hand.) Ah, Mr Grasshopper, of course I bless you, my chirrup, along with General de Gaulle.

  Tucker (drinking) First chance I’ve had of speaking to you alone, Your Lordship. Be on guard, sir.

  Earl of Gurney (straightening up) Mr Tucker, I’m puzzled.

  Tucker The family. I’ve seen ’em at work a’fore. They got the power and they made the rules. They’re back there plotting against you like mad.

  Earl of Gurney Love cannot doubt nor faith the mustard seed, no more plotting, Mr Tucker, please. It’s negativism. Plotting’s a word I put into my pressure-cooker, whrrr. It’s gone. Feeling persecuted’s one of the signs of paranoid schizophrenia. Many poor wretches in Dr Herder’s Dancing Academy suffered from same. But I am being watched, they said. Everybody is against me, they cried. (Shakes himself vigorously.) You’ve set up profound negative disturbances with your Kremlin plots, Mr Tucker, I’m going in. (Turns abruptly and walks upstage centre.) Resist it, Mr Tucker, that way madness lies.

  He disappears into the darkness. Tucker looks after him, swaying slightly.

  Tucker That’s the thanks you get. He’s the same as all the rest, what he doesn’t want to be so just isn’t so. Tried to help, you stupid old fool. No skin off my nose. My twenty thousand’s safe – and I deserve every last penny of it, and more, more, more! Why should I worry – villa in the South of France, and a bit o’ golden crumpet every day, breast and buttocks done to a turn. (He cackles.) Just pack a toothbrush and a French letter and you’re away, Daniel Tucker. What’s keeping you then, Dan? You’ve got the scratch. (Drinks, gloomily.) Fear. Be honest now, Daniel. Fear and habit. You get into the habit of serving. Born a servant, see, son of a servant. Family of servants. From a nation of servants. Very first thing an Englishman does, straight from his mother’s womb, is touch his forelock. That’s how they can tell the wrinkled little bastard’s English. Me, this tired old creeping servant, I’m the real England, not beef-eating Johnny Bullshit. I know my history. Masters and servants, that’s the way of it. Didn’t think I was like that, eh? A lot yer don’t know about Daniel Tucker. Just old faithful Tucker. Give doggy boney. Just ’ere for comic relief. Know who I really am? (Beckons confidentially.) Alexei Kronstadt. Number 243. Anarchist – Trotskyist – Communist – Revolutionary. I’m a cell! All these years I’ve been working for the Revolution, spitting in the hot soup, peeing on the Wedgwood dinner plates.

  Coming to attention and singing.

  ‘Then raise the scarlet standard high!

  Within its shade we’ll live or die;

  Tho’ cowards flinch and traitors sneer,

  We’ll keep the red flag flying here.’

  Spot out. He exits.

  Scene Six

  Lights up to show Earl of Gurney crucified on a wooden cross, leaning against the far wall to the right of the centre doorway. The crossbeam is above the gallery. Tucker is still heard singing faintly off. Lights up to show Claire, by the sofa, smoking nervously and staring up at the Earl on the cross.

  Claire J.C.? . . . Bert? . . . My Lord? . . . Barney Entwistle?

  Still no response from the Earl. Tucker comes in upstage, pushing a tea-trolley. He crosses to Claire, wincing at every sound, obviously suffering from a bad hangover.

  Tucker Tea, madam?

  Claire Oh, yes. What was that you were singing just now, Tucker?

  Tucker An old German hymn, madam – ‘Tannenbaum’. Lemon or milk, madam?

  Claire Lemon.

  He pours shakily as a flustered Dinsdale enters upstage.

  Dinsdale Gurney I say, where’s the Guv’nor? Is that tea? Just the job, Tucker.

  Claire Your father’s in town. Another meeting with Sir Humphrey Spens trying to find a way round this mess.

  Dinsdale Gurney When’s he back?

  Claire Any time now if he doesn’t drop in on his mistress first.

  Dinsdale shoots a sidelong glance at Tucker, who is too busy pouring and shuddering with nausea to react.

  Dinsdale Gurney Ah, hmm. Hope he gets things settled soon. It’s already getting awkward. They’re used to us Gurneys being in everything. Mrs Piggot-Jones and Mrs Treadwell and the other old girls thought it’d be a splendid idea for the new Earl to open the fête, Sunday week.

  Claire Naturally you told them it was impossible.

  Tucker Milk or lemon, sir?

  Dinsdale Gurney Lemon, Tucker. But dammit I am prospective Parliamentary candidate for the division. Had to watch my step with ’em. Couldn’t say he was ‘non-compis’.

  Claire If you’re going to be a successful Conservative politician, you’ll have to learn to make convincing excuses.

  Dinsdale Gurney Where is he now?

  Tucker hands him his tea.

  Claire (gesturing behind him) Up there.

  Dinsdale Gurney (turning) Oh . . . Ah!

 
He gives an involuntary cry of fright at his first sight of the Earl on the cross and spills some tea.

  Tucker Now look what you’ve done. (Wipes carpet with foot.) Never get tea-stains out. Show some consideration.

  Dinsdale Gurney Is it Yogi or something?

  Tucker has walked upstage to the cross.

  Tucker Tea, My Lord?

  Claire It’s no good, Tucker, I’ve tried. He’s asleep; dead to the world.

  Earl of Gurney His Body sleeps but his Divinity is always watching. Yes, Mr Tucker. Milk please. Any toasted muffins?

  Tucker Yes, sir. Shall I bring them up?

  Earl of Gurney No thanks. I’ll be right down.

  The Earl twists round, and clambers off the cross.

  Dinsdale Gurney It’s Yogi, isn’t it? A form of Yogi?

  Claire Don’t give me another headache, Dinsdale.

  Earl of Gurney (puts his hands together, Indian style) Welcome, Dinsdale.

  Dinsdale Gurney Oh, ah, yes. How are you?

  Earl of Gurney Sometimes my spirit sinks below the high water mark in Palestine, but I’m adjusting gradually.

  Tucker uncovers a dish of muffins and sways slightly.

  Earl of Gurney Mr Tucker, you look ill. Bed, Mr Tucker. Right now.

  Tucker Thank you, My Lord.

  Earl of Gurney Take a cup of Dr Langley’s Root and Herb Bitters. It acts directly on the bowels and blood, eradicates all liver disorders, dyspepsia, dizziness, heartburn –

  Tucker (exiting) Yes, sir.

  Earl of Gurney (calling) – foul stomach and piles.

  Tucker is heard muttering agreement off.

  Earl of Gurney For what I am about to receive may I make myself truly thankful. (Eats muffin.) I must soon be moving on. Sail to Wigan, Wrexham, Port Said and Crewe.

  Claire and Dinsdale exchange uneasy glances.

  Earl of Gurney First I shall command the Pope to consecrate a planeload of lightweight contraceptives for the priest-ridden Irish. (Mimes blessing.) ‘Pax et benedictio . . . adjutorium nostrum. Dominus vobiscum’. (Chanting.) Arise, shine for my light is come and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee . . . (Singing with actions.) ‘Here is the Drag, See how it goes; Down on the heels; Up on the toes. That’s the way to the Varsity Drag.’ (He dances round in exuberant ragtime.) ‘Hotter than hot, Newer than new! Meaner than mean, Bluer than blue. Gets as much applause as waving the flag!’