B. B. No, not Mister. This is your hat, I think [giving it to him]. Gloves? No, of course: no gloves. Good day to you. [He edges him out at last; shuts the door on him; and returns to SIR PATRICK as RIDGEON and WALPOLE come back from the recess, WALPOLE crossing the room to the hat-stand, and Ridgeon coming between SIR RALPH and SIR PATRICK]. Poor fellow! Poor young fellow! How well he died! I feel a better man, really.
SIR PATRICK When youre as old as I am, youll know that it matters very little how a man dies. What matters is, how he lives. Every fool that runs his nose against a bullet is a hero nowadays, because he dies for his country. Why dont he live for it to some purpose?
B. B. No, please, Paddy: dont be hard on the poor lad. Not now, not now. After all, was he so bad? He had only two failings: money and women. Well, let us be honest. Tell the truth, Paddy. Dont be hypocritical, Ridgeon. Throw off the mask, Walpole. Are these two matters so well arranged at present that a disregard of the usual arrangements indicates real depravity?
WALPOLE I dont mind his disregarding the usual arrangements. Confound the usual arrangements! To a man of science theyre beneath contempt both as to money and women. What I mind is his disregarding everything except his own pocket and his own fancy. He didnt disregard the usual arrangements when they paid him. Did he give us his pictures for nothing? Do you suppose he’d have hesitated to blackmail me if I’d compromised myself with his wife? Not he.
SIR PATRICK Dont waste your time wrangling over him. A blackguard’s a blackguard; an honest man’s an honest man; and neither of them will ever be at a loss for a religion or a morality to prove that their ways are the right ways. It’s the same with nations, the same with professions, the same all the world over and always will be.
B. B. Ah, well, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Still, d e m o r tuis nil nisi bonum.fm He died extremely well, remarkably well. He has set us an example: let us endeavor to follow it rather than harp on the weaknesses that have perished with him. I think it is Shakespear who says that the good that most men do lives after them: the evil lies interred with their bones. Yes: interred with their bones. Believe me, Paddy, we are all mortal. It is the common lot, Ridgeon. Say what you will, Walpole, Nature’s debt must be paid. If tis not to-day, twill be to-morrow.
To-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow
After life’s fitful fever they sleep well
And like this insubstantial bourne from which
No traveller returns
Leave not a wrack behind.
WALPOLE is about to speak, but B. B., suddenly and vehemently proceeding, extinguishes him.
Out, out, brief candle:
For nothing canst thou to damnation add
The readiness is all. 10
WALPOLE [gently; for B. B’s feeling, absurdly expressed as it is, is too sincere and humane to be ridiculed] Yes, B. B. Death makes people go on like that. I dont know why it should; but it does. By the way, what are we going to do? Ought we to clear out; or had we better wait and see whether Mrs Dubedat will come back?
SIR PATRICK I think we’d better go. We can tell the charwoman what to do.
They take their hats and go to the door.
MRS DUBEDAT [coming from the inner door wonderfully and beautifully dressed, and radiant, carrying a great piece of purple silk, handsomely embroidered, over her arm] I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.
MRS DUBEDAT [coming to them] I felt that I must shake hands with his friends once before we part to-day. We have shared together a great privilege and a great happiness. I dont think we can ever think of ourselves as ordinary people again. We have had a wonderful experience; and that gives us a common faith, a common ideal, that nobody else can quite have. Life will always be beautiful to us: death will always be beautiful to us. May we shake hands on that?
SIR PATRICK [shaking hands] Remember: all letters had better be left to your solicitor. Let him open everything and settle everything. Thats the law, you know.
MRS DUBEDAT Oh, thank you: I didnt know. [SIR PATRICK goes].
WALPOLE Good-bye. I blame myself: I should have insisted on operating. [He goes].
B. B. I will send the proper people: they will know what to do: you shall have no trouble. Good-bye, my dear lady. [He goes].
RIDGEON Good-bye. [He offers his hand].
MRS DUBEDAT [drawing back with gentle majesty] I said his f r i e n d s, Sir Colenso. [He bows and goes].
She unfolds the great piece of silk, and goes into the recess to cover her dead.
ACT V
One of the smaller Bond Streetfn Picture Galleries. The entrance is from a picture shop. Nearly in the middle of the gallery there is a writing-table, at which the Secretary, fashionably dressed, sits with his back to the entrance, correcting catalogue proofs. Some copies of a new book are on the desk, also the Secretary’s shining hat and a couple of magnifying glasses. At the side, on his left, a little behind him, is a small door marked PRIVATE. Near the same side is a cushioned bench parallel to the walls, which are covered with Dubedat’s works. Two screens, also covered with drawings, stand near the corners right and left of the entrance.
Jennifer, beautifully dressed and apparently very happy and prosperous, comes into the gallery through the private door.
JENNIFER Have the catalogues come yet, Mr Danby?
THE SECRETARY Not yet.
JENNIFER What a shame! It’s a quarter past: the private view will begin in less than half an hour.
THE SECRETARY I think I’d better run over to the printers to hurry them up.
JENNIFER Oh, if you would be so good, Mr Danby. I’ll take your place while youre away.
THE SECRETARY If anyone should come before the time dont take any notice. The commissionaire wont let anyone through unless he knows him. We have a few people who like to come before the crowd—people who really buy; and of course we’re glad to see them. Have you seen the notices in Brush and Crayon and in The Easel?
JENNIFER [indignantly] Yes: most disgraceful. They write quite patronizingly, as if they were Mr Dubedat’s superiors. After all the cigars and sandwiches they had from us on the press day, and all they drank, I really think it is infamous that they should write like that. I hope you have not sent them tickets for to-day.
THE SECRETARY Oh, they wont come again: theres no lunch to-day. The advance copies of your book have come. [He indicates the new books].
JENNIFER [pouncing on a copy, wildly excited] Give it to me. Oh! excuse me a moment [she runs away with it through the private door]. The SECRETARY takes a mirror from his drawer and smartens himself before going out. RIDGEON comes in.
RIDGEON Good morning. May I look round, as usual, before the doors open?
THE SECRETARY Certainly, Sir Colenso. I’m sorry the catalogues have not come: I’m just going to see about them. Heres my own list, if you dont mind.
RIDGEON Thanks. Whats this? [He takes up one of the new books] .
THE SECRETARY Thats just come in. An advance copy of Mrs Dubedat’s Life of her late husband.
RIDGEON [reading the title] The Story of a King of Men. By His Wife. [He looks at the portrait frontis-piece]. Ay: there he is. You knew him here, I suppose.
THE SECRETARY Oh, we knew him. Better than she did, Sir Colenso, in some ways, perhaps.
RIDGEON So did I. [They look significantly at one another]. I’ll take a look round.
The SECRETARY puts on the shining hat and goes out. RIDGEON begins looking at the pictures. Presently he comes back to the table for a magnifying glass, and scrutinizes a drawing very closely. He sighs; shakes his head, as if constrained to admit the extraordinary fascination and merit of the work; then marks the SECRETARY’s list. Proceeding with his survey, he disappears behind round the screen.
JENNIFER comes back with her book. A look round satisfies her that she is alone. She seats herself at the table and admires the memoir—her first printed book—to her heart’s content. RIDGEON re-appears, face to the wall, scrutinizing the drawings. After using his glass again, h
e steps back to get a more distant view of one of the larger pictures. She hastily closes the book at the sound; looks round; recognizes him; and stares, petrified. He takes a further step back which brings him nearer to her.
RIDGEON [shaking his head as before, ejaculates] Clever brute!
[She flushes as though he had struck her. He turns to put the glass down on the desk, and finds himself face to face with her intent gaze]. I beg your pardon. I thought I was alone.
JENNIFER [controlling herself, and speaking steadily and meaningly] I am glad we have met, Sir Colenso Ridgeon. I met Dr Blenkinsop yesterday. I congratulate you on a wonderful cure.
RIDGEON [can find no words: makes an embarrassed gesture of assent after a moment’s silence, and puts down the glass and the SECRETARY’s list on the table].
JENNIFER He looked the picture of health and strength and prosperity. [She looks for a moment at the walls, contrasting BLENKlNSOP’s fortune with the artist’s fate].
RIDGEON [in low tones, still embarrassed] He has been fortunate.
JENNIFER Very fortunate. His life has been spared.
RIDGEON I mean that he has been made a Medical Officer of Health. He cured the Chairman of the Borough Council very successfully.
JENNIFER With your medicines?
RIDGEONNo. I believe it was with a pound of ripe greengages.
JENNIFER [with deep gravity] Funny!
RIDGEON Yes. Life does not cease to be funny when people die any more than it ceases to be serious when people laugh.
JENNIFER Dr Blenkinsop said one very strange thing to me.
RIDGEONWhat was that?
JENNIFER He said that private practice in medicine ought to be put down by law. When I asked him why, he said that private doctors were ignorant licensed murderers.
RIDGEONThat is what the public doctor always thinks of the private doctor. Well, Blenkinsop ought to know. He was a private doctor long enough himself. Come! you have talked at me long enough. Talk to me. You have something to reproach me with. There is reproach in your face, in your voice: you are full of it. Out with it.
JENNIFER It is too late for reproaches now. When I turned and saw you just now, I wondered how you could come here coolly to look at his pictures. You answered the question. To you, he was only a clever brute.
RIDGEON [quivering] Oh, dont. You know I did not know you were here.
JENNIFER [raising her head a little with a quite gentle impulse of pride] You think it only mattered because I heard it. As if it could touch me, or touch him! Dont you see that what is really dreadful is that to you living things have no souls.
RIDGEON [with a sceptical shrug] The soul is an organ I have not come across in the course of my anatomical work.
JENNIFER You know you would not dare to say such a silly thing as that to anybody but a woman whose mind you despise. If you dissected me you could not find my conscience. Do you think I have got none?
RIDGEON I have met people who had none.
JENNIFER Clever brutes? Do you know, doctor, that some of the dearest and most faithful friends I ever had were only brutes! You would have vivisected them. The dearest and greatest of all my friends had a sort of beauty and affec tionateness that only animals have. I hope you may never feel what I felt when I had to put him into the hands of men who defend the torture of animals because they are only brutes.
RIDGEON Well, did you find us so very cruel, after all? They tell me that though you have dropped me, you stay for weeks with the Bloomfield Boningtons and the Walpoles. I think it must be true, because they never mention you to me now.
JENNIFER The animals in Sir Ralph’s house are like spoiled children. When Mr Walpole had to take a splinter out of the mastiff’s paw, I had to hold the poor dog myself; and Mr Walpole had to turn Sir Ralph out of the room. And Mrs Walpole has to tell the gardener not to kill wasps when Mr Walpole is looking. But there are doctors who are naturally cruel; and there are others who get used to cruelty and are callous about it. They blind themselves to the souls of animals; and that blinds them to the souls of men and women. You made a dreadful mistake about Louis; but you would not have made it if you had not trained yourself to make the same mistake about dogs. You saw nothing in them but dumb brutes; and so you could see nothing in him but a clever brute.
RIDGEON [with sudden resolution] I made no mistake whatever about him.
JENNIFER Oh, doctor!
RIDGEON [obstinately] I made no mistake whatever about him.
JENNIFER Have you forgotten that he died?
RIDGEON [with a sweep of his hand towards the pictures] He is not dead. He is there. [Taking up the book] And there.
JENNIFER [springing up with blazing eyes] Put that down. How dare you touch it?
RIDGEON, amazed at the fierceness of the outburst, puts it down with a deprecatory shrug. She takes it up and looks at it as if he had profaned a relic.
RIDGEON I am very sorry. I see I had better go.
JENNIFER [putting the book down] I beg your pardon. I—I forgot myself. But it is not yet—it is a private copy.
RIDGEON But for me it would have been a very different book.
JENNIFER But for you it would have been a longer one.
RIDGEON You know then that I killed him?
JENNIFER [suddenly moved and softened] Oh, doctor, if you acknowledge that—if you have confessed it to yourself—if you realize what you have done, then there is forgiveness. I trusted in your strength instinctively at first; then I thought I had mistaken callousness for strength. Can you blame me? But if it was really strength—if it was only such a mistake as we all make sometimes—it will make me so happy to be friends with you again.
RIDGEON I tell you I made no mistake. I cured Blenkinsop: was there any mistake there?
JENNIFER He recovered. Oh, dont be foolishly proud, doctor. Confess to a failure, and save our friendship. Remember, Sir Ralph gave Louis your medicine; and it made him worse.
RIDGEON I cant be your friend on false pretences. Something has got me by the throat: the truth must come out. I used that medicine myself on Blenkinsop. It did not make him worse. It is a dangerous medicine: it cured Blenkinsop: it killed Louis Dubedat. When I handle it, it cures. When another man handles it, it kills—sometimes.
JENNIFER [naïvely: not yet taking it all in] Then why did you let Sir Ralph give it to Louis?
RIDGEON I’m going to tell you. I did it because I was in love with you.
JENNIFER [innocently surprised] In lo—You! an elderly man!
RIDGEON [thunderstruck, raising his fists to heaven] Dubedat: thou art avenged! [He drops his hands and collapses on the bench]. I never thought of that. I suppose I appear to you a ridiculous old fogey.
JENNIFER But surely—I did not mean to offend you, indeed—but you must be at least twenty years older than I am.
RIDGEON Oh, quite. More, perhaps. In twenty years you will understand how little difference that makes.
JENNIFER But even so, how could you think that I—his wife—could ever think of y o u—
RIDGEON [stopping her with a nervous waving of his fingers] Yes, yes, yes, yes: I quite understand: you neednt rub it in.
JENNIFER But—oh, it is only dawning on me now—I was so surprised at first—do you dare to tell me that it was to gratify a miserable jealousy that you deliberately—oh! oh! you murdered him.
RIDGEON I think I did. It really comes to that.
Thou shalt not kill, but needst not strive Officiously to keep alive.fo
I suppose—yes: I killed him.
JENNIFER And you tell me that! to my face! callously! You are not afraid!
RIDGEON I am a doctor: I have nothing to fear. It is not an in dictable offence to call in B. B. Perhaps it ought to be; but it isnt.
JENNIFER I did not mean that. I meant afraid of my taking the law into my own hands, and killing you.
RIDGEON I am so hopelessly idiotic about you that I should not mind it a bit. You would always remember me if you did that.
&nb
sp; JENNIFER I shall remember you always as a little man who tried to kill a great one.
RIDGEON Pardon me. I succeeded.
JENNIFER [with quiet conviction] No. Doctors think they hold the keys of life and death; but it is not their will that is fulfilled. I dont believe you made any difference at all.
RIDGEON Perhaps not. But I intended to.
JENNIFER [looking at him amazedly: not without pity] And you tried to destroy that wonderful and beautiful life merely because you grudged him a woman whom you could never have expected to care for you!
RIDGEON Who kissed my hands. Who believed in me. Who told me her friendship lasted until death.
JENNIFER And whom you were betraying.
RIDGEON No. Whom I was saving.
JENNIFER [gently] Pray, doctor, from what?
RIDGE ON From making a terrible discovery. From having your life laid waste.
JENNIFER How?
RIDGEON No matter. I h a v e saved you. I have been the best friend you ever had. You are happy. You are well. His works are an imperishable joy and pride for you.
JENNIFER And you think that is y o u r doing. Oh doctor, doctor! Sir Patrick is right: you do think you are a little god. How can you be so silly? Y o u did not paint those pictures which are my imperishable joy and pride: y o u did not speak the words that will always be heavenly music in my ears. I listen to them now whenever I am tired or sad. That is why I am always happy.
RIDGEON Yes, now that he is dead. Were you always happy when he was alive?
JENNIFER [wounded] Oh, you are cruel, cruel. When he was alive I did not know the greatness of my blessing. I worried meanly about little things. I was unkind to him. I was unworthy of him.
RIDGEON [laughingbitterly]Ha!
JENNIFER Dont insult me: dont blaspheme. [She snatches up the book and presses it to her heart in a paroxysm of remorse, exclaiming] Oh, my King of Men!
RIDGEON King of Men! Oh, this is too monstrous, too grotesque. We cruel doctors have kept the secret from you faithfully; but it is like all secrets: it will not not keep itself. The buried truth germinates and breaks through to the light.
Pygmalion and Three Other Plays (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) Page 36