An Inspector Calls and Other Plays

by J. B. Priestley

  [Here all the children give a yell. But suddenly MRS LINDEN has stopped laughing, and has turned her face away. As the laughter dies down,]

  PROFESSOR [to his wife]: What’s the matter, my dear?

  MRS LINDEN [turned away, muffled tone]: No – it’s nothing – don’t bother –

  [They have all stopped laughing now, and glance curiously at her.]

  PROFESSOR: All right. Well, let’s play, shall we?

  MRS LINDEN: No. I mean – you all play, of course. But I don’t want to.

  MARION: What is it, Mother?

  MRS LINDEN: I suddenly felt awful – hearing you all laughing again – and remembering what fun we used to have. Oh – I went back long before that holiday in Cumberland – to other holidays and times – to when you were all very little – and before that – when everything was beginning for us. [She looks rather defiantly at her husband.] I don’t know what you tell those students of yours, Robert. But I’d like to tell them something – the truth, for once – the real truth.

  PROFESSOR [gravely]: And what’s that, Isabel?

  [MRS LINDEN now speaks with great sincerity and feeling, with a certain magnificence of manner.]

  MRS LINDEN: That everything just gets worse and worse – and it’s time we stopped pretending it doesn’t. Oh – I’m not just thinking about being short of things and having rations and queuing up. But when we were young – up to 1914 – the world was sensible and safe and kind – and even if people didn’t have much money, they had most of the things they wanted. They could be happy in a simple easy way – because life seemed good. Oh – the very roads and the grass and the trees and the lilac in spring were different then, and you could notice and enjoy everything, and be quiet and peaceful. And then afterwards – after those years of great black casualty lists every day – it was never the same again – never the same. But it wasn’t too bad – we still didn’t know all the horrors and the cruelties and the miseries – and you could go away for real holidays – and the children were such fun. But then everything got worse and worse – and look at us now, just look at us – with only a few years more and all the colour and fun and life gone for ever – I tell you, it’s heart-breaking –

  DINAH [eagerly]: Oh, Mother, you’re not fair. It’s just because you’re not interested, so you make it all seem dull and grey to yourself. It’s all terribly exciting, really, and sometimes I lie awake at night – and think – and wonder – and can hardly bear it –

  MRS LINDEN [harshly]: No, Dinah, you don’t understand what I’m talking about – you’re too young – much too young –

  PROFESSOR: Yes, she’s too young to understand what you feel. But she’s given you the answer, just because she is young. And what am I to tell my students? That because I’m getting old and weary, they mustn’t believe the very blood that’s beating in their veins?

  MARION: But there are such things as standards, Father. And Mother’s quite right –

  JEAN [contemptuously]: What – just because she’s talking like any elderly member of a decayed middle class?

  MRS LINDEN [angrily]: Oh – don’t talk that pompous inhuman rubbish to me, Jean. I’m being real now. I’m not quoting books but talking about real life – and what I feel here – [indicating her heart].

  PROFESSOR: Some things are worse, some things are better. And the sun will shine for Dinah tomorrow, my love, as it once shone for you, forty years ago – the same sun. And young families are still laughing somewhere at old farmers who burst their collars. And while there’s time to lose the world, Rex, there’s also time to save it – if we really want to save it. And there’s also time – and of course it might be the last, you never know – for a Linden family game of Black Sam. Give us our counters, Rex – that’s your job – [He has now taken the cards out of the case] while the old man, with his patience, shuffles the cards. Patience… patience … and shuffle the cards….

  [He is now shuffling the cards, REX is distributing the counters in heaps, while the others begin to sit round.]

  SLOW CURTAIN

  Act Two

  SCENE ONE

  The Scene as before, but it is afternoon again, with mild sunlight coming through the window. MARION, JEAN, EDITH WESTMORE and BERNARD FAWCETT are all standing about, having a heated and noisy argument. Door is open and through it we hear MRS LINDEN and REX occasionally calling to each other, with a good deal of movement and bumping, and also we can hear, fragmentarily, DINAH practising bits of the ’cello part of Elgar’s ’Cello Concerto. It is altogether a noisy messy sort of scene.

  FAWCETT [an aggressive debater]: How do you make that out? Just tell me that. How do you make that out?

  EDITH [heatedly]: It’s your business to make it out, as you call it. Not ours. [Appealing to MARION, her ally] Isn’t it?

  MARION [nearly as heated as they are]: Of course it is. They think they can come along with any piffling little argument against religion, and that we have to reply, when the best minds of the last two thousand years –

  JEAN [cooler than the other three]: Wait a minute, Marion. We really can’t swallow that.

  FAWCETT [disgusted]: Of course we can’t. Lot o’ tripe, that’s all. Yes, tripe!

  JEAN [louder now]: The best minds have always been fighting the Churches tooth and nail. Just as they are today. And for the same old reason –

  FAWCETT [triumphantly]: Exactly – the same old reason –

  REX [off, but near door, calling]: What do you say, Mother? I know – but there’s a hell of a row going on down here –

  MRS LINDEN [off, distant, calling]: It’s in the dining-room. Din-ing Room!

  REX [calling]: Okay! I’ll go and look.

  MARION: Yes, and what is the reason?

  EDITH [backing her up]: We know what it is. It’s simply not to have any real moral responsibility –

  MARION: To do what you like. And then you wonder why you’re all so miserable –

  FAWCETT [shouting]: Who said we’re miserable? Were people any better off when they had Inquisitions and had to buy pardons and keep thousands of lazy priests and monks –

  EDITH: How do you know they were lazy?

  MARION: And anyhow people were better off. First, the scientists want to be free of religion, and now when they’ve invented atom bombs and think we’ll all blow ourselves to bits with them, they’re telling us it’s a pity there’s no religion –

  JEAN: No, they’re not, if they’ve any sense. What they’re asking for is a properly planned and controlled world –

  FAWCETT: Which you lot couldn’t give us anyhow, and have done your best to stop –

  MARION: How can you plan and control without any real authority to guide you? That’s where the Church comes in –

  EDITH: And if people don’t worship God, then they’ll worship the devil –

  FAWCETT [jeering]: Superstition! Dope! That’s all you’re giving us.

  MARION [annoyed]: Don’t be so loutish.

  FAWCETT [to JEAN]: There you are, you see. Bad temper now.

  EDITH [angrily]: Well, you started it.

  REX [calling, as before]: Are you sure it’s a brown one? There’s a green one here, that’s all.

  MRS LINDEN [as before]: No, darling – the brown one.

  REX [calling]: And what about this basket thing? Do you really want it?

  JEAN [who apparently started earlier]: Just a little elementary psychology is what I’d suggest. And somatic medical treatment too.

  EDITH: What about them? Are they supposed to explain everything – what we’re doing here at all, for instance –

  FAWCETT: Well, can you explain that?

  MARION: We can make a better shot at it than you people can.

  JEAN: But don’t you see that that kind of question is idiotic?

  EDITH: No, I don’t. It’s what I’ve always wanted to know – ever since I can remember –

  JEAN: Yes, of course it’s a child’s question – and that’s all it is. We can explain how we came
to be what we are – what physical and social forces –

  MARION [crossly]: Oh – never mind about physical and social forces – they don’t give the answer – they only explain how things work –

  JEAN: Well, that’s the only explanation that’s sensible and necessary.

  EDITH [shouting]: No, it isn’t.

  JEAN [haughtily]: I’ll be much obliged if you won’t shout at me like that.

  FAWCETT: Can’t face the argument. All alike.

  EDITH [to him]: Oh – you shut up! [To JEAN] I’m sorry – I won’t shout any more – but it always annoys me when people talk like that. Knowing how a thing works isn’t knowing what it’s for.

  MARION: Exactly – and that’s the mistake they all make –

  JEAN: There’s no exactly about it. Reality can’t be for anything. It just is. You’re talking out-of-date metaphysics – and don’t even know it – that’s your trouble.

  MARION [hotly]: And your trouble is – you’re so ridiculously conceited –

  FAWCETT [insufferably]: Now – now – now – now!

  MARION [turning on him]: Really – you’re insufferable. Please be quiet.

  [Enter MRS COTTON, if anything odder than in the previous Act. She is smoking a cigarette and carrying a cup of tea.]

  MRS COTTON: ’Avin’a proper argy-bargy in ’ere, aren’t you? Losing your tempers too, some of yer. [To JEAN and MARION] Your tea’ll be ready soon. Dining-room. Packed up to go?

  MARION: Yes. At least I have.

  JEAN: So have I.

  MRS COTTON: Your mother’s makin’ a proper job of it – an’ keepin’ Mr Rex on the run all right. Yer’d think she was goin’ for good, the way she’s throwin’ things about – never saw such a mess upstairs – every drawer out of every chest. All gone straight to ’er ’ead. Excitement. I knew it would.’Im comin’. I’d ’ave bin just the same. [Sits on edge of chair, takes a sip of tea, and looks at the others cynically.] Well, get on with the argument. Don’t let me stop yer. I like a bit of ding-dong.

  MARION: No, I think we’ve had enough.

  MRS COTTON: My ’usband wouldn’t say more than ten words for two or three days, then ’e’d ’ave two or three bottles o’ stout an’ argue the point about anything – shout you down too. I used to grumble but I wish to God ’e’d come in now an’ start shoutin’ me down again – an’ you too –

  FAWCETT [grinning]: Perhaps we wouldn’t let him.

  MRS COTTON [with contempt]: ’E’d ’ave told you to run away an’ play –

  [EDITH giggles. FAWCETT is annoyed.]

  FAWCETT: Here, wait a minute –

  MRS COTTON: What for? [To JEAN] Who’s this Cass Als?

  JEAN: Cass Als?

  MRS COTTON: That’s right. Dinah come ’ome like a mad thing early this afternoon an’ she shouts ‘Mrs Cotton. Isn’t it wonderful? I met a man at my lesson who used to know Cass Als’.

  MARION: Oh – she means Casals – the great ’cellist –

  MRS COTTON: That’ll be ’im. Nearly off ’er ’ead with excitement ’cos she’d met a man who knew ’im. What it is to be young an’ silly. She started practisin’ right off then. Proper mad thing. Not knowin’ what’s in store. I was the same about Fox Trots, years an’ years ago, when they’d just started – mad on Fox Trots – couldn’t think about work or eatin’or sleepin’ for Fox Trots… even the name sounds dam’ silly now. [Suddenly, to EDITH] What are you mad on?

  EDITH [startled]: I don’t know really –

  MRS COTTON: I’ll bet yer don’t. [To JEAN] Well, what about gettin’ on with the Brains Trust ’ere? Not quite time for your tea yet, even though yer are ’avin’it early. What’s the subject?

  JEAN [amused]: A good old favourite. Science versus Religion.

  MRS COTTON: Never fancied either of ’em really. ’Ad a sister that went religious, chapel, and an uncle that was a bit on the scientific side – insecks, chiefly –

  [REX appears at door. He is in his shirt-sleeves, carrying a suitcase in one hand, and a woman’s coat and various oddments in the other. He has a cigarette, unlit, in his mouth, and looks rather ruffled.]

  REX: Put a light to this cigarette, somebody, please.

  [FAWCETT goes up to him, with lighter. He speaks now to JEAN and MARION.]

  MARION: Well, we’re not really debating chapels versus insects.

  REX: Thanks, old boy. Helping mother pack is no joke. [Looking at them all] You look a queer gang in here. Mrs Cotton, do you know anything about a little travelling clock?

  MRS COTTON: No, I don’t.

  REX: Neither do I.

  JEAN: I believe it’s in my room. Shall I go –

  REX: No, I’m going up – [Goes out.]

  [During all this scraps of ’cello playing, often repeating same pasage, have been heard, with breaks. It continues now, though not heard above dialogue clearly.]

  EDITH [rather shyly]: But – in a way – it is chapels versus insects. I mean, they [indicating JEAN and FAWCETT] talk as if we were only a superior sort of insect –

  FAWCETT [impatiently]: Oh – don’t start all that old stuff. Nobody’s ever said anything of the sort.

  MARION: No, you don’t say it. But that’s what you mean.

  JEAN: No, we don’t. The point is, if we study insect life, we know exactly what we’re doing –

  EDITH [sharply]: And we know what we’re doing in chapels and churches –

  MARION: We’re behaving like spiritual beings –

  FAWCETT: Or like superstitious savages –

  EDITH [angrily]: Do savages have chapels and churches?

  MARION: It’s just savages who don’t. And now they’re turning themselves into savages again –

  JEAN: On the contrary, we’re using our reason and knowledge of scientific method –

  MARION [loudly]: To blow everything and everybody to bits –

  MRS COTTON: ’Ere, ’ere.

  JEAN [to MARION, angrily]: Chiefly encouraged by your precious Church –

  MARION [angrily]: That’s simply not true –

  FAWCETT [rudely]: Yes of course it is –

  MARION [angrily]: No it isn’t – and I’m not talking to you –

  FAWCETT [loudly]: You can’t reason with ’em. They won’t listen to it.

  MRS COTTON [top of her voice]: Go on, our side. Chapels versus Insecks. [She laughs.]

  EDITH [to FAWCETT]: If you’d just be quiet a minute and not interrupt –

  FAWCETT [overlapping with her]: Why should I be quiet? I’ve as much right to talk as you.

  MARION [angrily, overlapping too]: Because you don’t understand what we’re talking about. You’re not arguing, you’re just shouting –

  JEAN [very loud, overlapping]: Well, I know what I’m talking about. I’ve had all this out years ago –

  EDITH [cutting in]: That doesn’t make any difference. It doesn’t prove you’re right, does it?

  JEAN [together with MARION, as below]: I say, we used to talk this stuff for hours when I was in college, years ago –

  MARION [together with JEAN, as above]: No, but Jean always did know it all, and now she’s a doctor, of course, naturally –

  [PROFESSOR LINDEN has entered, and his voice cuts them off.]

  PROFESSOR [loudly]: Just a minute!

  [They are quiet, attentive to him. He speaks quietly now.]

  Listen to Dinah –

  [The door is open behind him, and now we hear quite clearly, though at some distance, the ’cello playing the rich melancholy second subject of the First Movement of the Elgar Concerto. They are all very still. The music dies away. Short pause.]

  MARION [quietly]: What is that?

  PROFESSOR: First Movement of the Elgar Concerto. I didn’t know Dinah was doing the Elgar. She must have just started.

  MRS COTTON [softly]: It sounds a sad piece.

  PROFESSOR [quietly]: Yes, it is. A kind of long farewell. An elderly man remembers his world before the war of 1914, some of it years and years before perha
ps – being a boy at Worcester – or Germany in the ’Nineties – long days on the Malvern Hills – smiling Edwardian afternoons – Maclaren and Ranji batting at Lords, then Richter or Nikisch at the Queen’s Hall – all gone, gone, lost for ever – and so he distils his tenderness and regret, drop by drop, and seals the sweet melancholy in a Concerto for ’cello. And he goes, too, where all the old green sunny days and the twinkling nights went – gone, gone. But then what happens? Why, a little miracle. You heard it.

  JEAN [softly]: Dinah playing?

  PROFESSOR: Why yes. Young Dinah Linden, all youth, all eagerness, saying hello and not farewell to anything, who knows and cares nothing about Bavaria in the ’Nineties or the secure and golden Edwardian afternoons, here in Burmanley, this very afternoon, the moment we stop shouting at each other, unseals for us the precious distillation, uncovers the tenderness and regret, which are ours now as well as his, and our lives and Elgar’s, Burmanley today and the Malvern Hills in a lost sunlight, are all magically intertwined …

  MRS COTTON [to the others, proudly]: When he likes, the Professor’s a lovely talker.

  PROFESSOR: That settles me. But that theme, you know – [hums it a moment] you can tell at once it’s a farewell to long-lost summer afternoons. It’s got a deep drowsy summerishness that belongs to everybody’s youth – it’s telling you quite plainly that now there aren’t any such afternoons – the sun’s never as hot, the grass as thick, the shade as deep and drowsy – and where are the bumble bees? God help me – I haven’t seen a hammock for years and years and years. I must tell Dinah. [Half turns, then checks himself.] No, no, that’ll keep. [To the students] What are you two doing here? What about that meeting?

  FAWCETT: We came to tell you. It’s been cancelled.

  EDITH: So as we had no other subject for this week’s essay, we thought we’d better tell you at once.

  PROFESSOR [thoughtfully]: I see.

  MARION [to MRS COTTON]: What about tea? I’ll help.

  MRS COTTON: Come on then.

  [They go out together. PROFESSOR looks at students.]

  PROFESSOR: You’re probably both going to the Union show tonight aren’t you?

  [They nod and murmur ‘Yes’.]