NURSE GUINNESS I’ll go get you some fresh tea, ducky. [She takes up the tray.]
ELLIE But the old gentleman said he would make some himself.
NURSE GUINNESS Bless you! he’s forgotten what he went for already. His mind wanders from one thing to another.
LADY UTTERWORD Papa, I suppose?
NURSE GUINNESS Yes, Miss.
LADY UTTERWORD [vehemently] Don’t be silly, Nurse. Don’t call me Miss.
NURSE GUINNESS [placidly] No, lovey [she goes out with the tea-tray].
LADY UTTERWORD [sitting down with a flounce on the sofa] I know what you must feel. Oh, this house, this house! I come back to it after twenty-three years; and it is just the same: the luggage lying on the steps, the servants spoilt and impossible, nobody at home to receive anybody, no regular meals, nobody ever hungry because they are always gnawing bread and butter or munching apples, and, what is worse, the same disorder in ideas, in talk, in feeling. When I was a child I was used to it: I had never known anything better, though I was unhappy, and longed all the time — oh, how I longed! — to be respectable, to be a lady, to live as others did, not to have to think of everything for myself. I married at nineteen to escape from it. My husband is Sir Hastings Utterword, who has been governor of all the crown colonies in succession. I have always been the mistress of Government House. I have been so happy: I had forgotten that people could live like this. I wanted to see my father, my sister, my nephews and nieces (one ought to, you know), and I was looking forward to it. And now the state of the house! the way I’m received! the casual impudence of that woman Guinness, our old nurse! really Hesione might at least have been here: some preparation might have been made for me. You must excuse my going on in this way; but I am really very much hurt and annoyed and disillusioned: and if I had realized it was to be like this, I wouldn’t have come. I have a great mind to go away without another word [she is on the point of weeping].
ELLIE [also very miserable] Nobody has been here to receive me either. I thought I ought to go away too. But how can I, Lady Utterword? My luggage is on the steps; and the station fly[298] has gone.
The captain emerges from the pantry with a tray of Chinese lacquer and a very fine tea-set on it. He rests it provisionally on the end of the table; snatches away the drawing-board, which he stands on the floor against table legs; and puts the tray in the space thus cleared. ELLIE pours out a cup greedily.
THE CAPTAIN Your tea, young lady. What! another lady! I must fetch another cup [he makes for the pantry].
LADY UTTERWORD [rising from the sofa, suffused with emotion] Papa! Don’t you know me? I’m your daughter.
THE CAPTAIN Nonsense! my daughter’s upstairs asleep. [He vanishes through the half door.]
LADY UTTERWORD retires to the window to conceal her tears.
ELLIE [going to her with the cup] Don’t be so distressed. Have this cup of tea. He is very old and very strange: he has been just like that to me. I know how dreadful it must be: my own father is all the world to me. Oh, I’m sure he didn’t mean it. The captain returns with another cup.
THE CAPTAIN Now we are complete. [He places it on the tray.]
LADY UTTERWORD [hysterically] Papa, you can’t have forgotten me. I am Ariadne. I’m little Paddy Patkins. Won’t you kiss me? [She goes to him and throws her arms round his neck.]
THE CAPTAIN [woodenly enduring her embrace] How can you be Ariadne? You are a middle-aged woman: well preserved, madam, but no longer young.
LADY UTTERWORD But think of all the years and years I have been away, Papa. I have had to grow old, like other people.
THE CAPTAIN [disengaging himself] You should grow out of kissing strange men: they may be striving to attain the seventh degree of concentration.
LADY UTTERWORD But I’m your daughter. You haven’t seen me for years.
THE CAPTAIN So much the worse! When our relatives are at home, we have to think of all their good points or it would be impossible to endure them. But when they are away, we console ourselves for their absence by dwelling on their vices. That is how I have come to think my absent daughter Ariadne a perfect fiend; so do not try to ingratiate yourself here by impersonating her [he walks firmly away to the other side of the room].
LADY UTTERWORD Ingratiating myself indeed! [With dignity .] Very well, papa. [She sits down at the drawing-table and pours out tea for herself.]
THE CAPTAIN I am neglecting my social duties.You remember Dunn? Billy Dunn?
LADY UTTERWORD Do you mean that villainous sailor who robbed you?
THE CAPTAIN [introducing ELLIE] His daughter. [He sits down on the sofa. ]
ELLIE [protesting] No —
NURSE GUINNESS returns with fresh tea.
THE CAPTAIN Take that hogwash away. Do you hear?
NURSE You’ve actually remembered about the tea! [To ELLIE.] Oh, miss, he didn’t forget you after all! You have made an impression.
THE CAPTAIN [gloomily] Youth! beauty! novelty! They are badly wanted in this house. I am excessively old. Hesione is only moderately young. Her children are not youthful.
LADY UTTERWORD How can children be expected to be youthful in this house? Almost before we could speak we were filled with notions that might have been all very well for pagan philosophers of fifty, but were certainly quite unfit for respectable people of any age.
NURSE You were always for respectability, Miss Addy.
LADY UTTERWORD Nurse, will you please remember that I am Lady Utterword, and not Miss Addy, nor lovey, nor darling, nor doty? Do you hear?
NURSE Yes, ducky: all right. I’ll tell them all they must call you My lady. [She takes her tray out with undisturbed placidity.]
LADY UTTERWORD What comfort? what sense is there in having servants with no manners?
ELLIE [rising and coming to the table to put down her empty cup] Lady Utterword, do you think Mrs Hushabye really expects me?
LADY UTTERWORD Oh, don’t ask me. You can see for yourself that I’ve just arrived; her only sister, after twenty-three years’ absence! and it seems that I am not expected.
THE CAPTAIN What does it matter whether the young lady is expected or not? She is welcome. There are beds: there is food. I’ll find a room for her myself [he makes for the door].
ELLIE [following him to stop him] Oh, please — [He goes out.] Lady Utterword, I don’t know what to do. Your father persists in believing that my father is some sailor who robbed him.
LADY UTTERWORD You had better pretend not to notice it. My father is a very clever man; but he always forgot things; and now that he is old, of course he is worse. And I must warn you that it is sometimes very hard to feel quite sure that he really forgets.
MRS HUSHABYE bursts into the room tempestuously and embraces ELLIE. She is a couple of years older than LADY UTTERWORD, and even better looking. She has magnificent black hair, eyes like the fish pools of Heshbon, [299] and a nobly modelled neck, short at the back and low between her shoulders in front. Unlike her sister she is uncorseted and dressed anyhow in a rich robe of black pile [300] that shows off her white skin and statuesque contour.
MRS HUSHABYE Ellie, my darling, my pettikins [kissing her], how long have you been here? I’ve been at home all the time: I was putting flowers and things in your room; and when I just sat down for a moment to try how comfortable the armchair was I went off to sleep. Papa woke me and told me you were here. Fancy your finding no one, and being neglected and abandoned. [Kissing her again.] My poor love! [She deposits ELLIE on the sofa. Meanwhile ARIADNE has left the table and come over to claim her share of attention.] Oh! you’ve brought someone with you. Introduce me.
LADY UTTERWORD Hesione, is it possible that you don’t know me?
MRS HUSHABYE [conventionally] Of course I remember your face quite well. Where have we met?
LADY UTTERWORD Didn’t Papa tell you I was here? Oh! this is really too much. [She throws herself sulkily into the big chair.]
MRS HUSHABYE Papa!
LADY UTTERWORD Yes, Papa. Our papa, you unfeeling wret
ch! [Rising angrily.] I’ll go straight to a hotel.
MRS HUSHABYE [seizing her by the shoulders] My goodness gracious goodness, you don’t mean to say that you’re Addy!
LADY UTTERWORD I certainly am Addy; and I don’t think I can be so changed that you would not have recognized me if you had any real affection for me. And Papa didn’t think me even worth mentioning!
MRS HUSHABYE What a lark! Sit down [she pushes her back into the chair instead of kissing her, and posts herself behind it]. You do look a swell. You’re much handsomer than you used to be. You’ve made the acquaintance of Ellie, of course. She is going to marry a perfect hog of a millionaire for the sake of her father, who is as poor as a church mouse; and you must help me to stop her.
ELLIE Oh, please, Hesione!
MRS HUSHABYE My pettikins, the man’s coming here today with your father to begin persecuting you; and everybody will see the state of the case in ten minutes; so what’s the use of making a secret of it?
ELLIE He is not a hog, Hesione. You don’t know how wonderfully good he was to my father, and how deeply grateful I am to him.
MRS HUSHABYE [to LADY UTTERWORD]. Her father is a very remarkable man, Addy. His name is Mazzini Dunn. Mazzini[301] was a celebrity of some kind who knew Ellie’s grandparents. They were both poets, like the Brownings; and when her father came into the world Mazzini said, “Another soldier born for freedom!” So they christened him Mazzini; and he has been fighting for freedom in his quiet way ever since. That’s why he is so poor.
ELLIE I am proud of his poverty.
MRS HUSHABYE Of course you are, pettikins. Why not leave him in it, and marry someone you love?
LADY UTTERWORD [rising suddenly and explosively] Hesione, are you going to kiss me or are you not?
MRS HUSHABYE What do you want to be kissed for?
LADY UTTERWORD I don’t want to be kissed; but I do want you to behave properly and decently. We are sisters. We have been separated for twenty-three years. You ought to kiss me.
MRS HUSHABYE To-morrow morning, dear, before you make up. I hate the smell of powder.
LADY UTTERWOOD Oh! you unfeeling — [she is interrupted by the return of the captain].
THE CAPTAIN [to ELLIE] Your room is ready. [ELLIE rises.] The sheets were damp; but I have changed them [he makes for the garden door on the port side].
LADY UTTERWORD Oh! What about my sheets?
THE CAPTAIN [halting at the door] Take my advice: air them: or take them off and sleep in blankets. You shall sleep in Ariadne’s old room.
LADY UTTERWORD Indeed I shall do nothing of the sort. That little hole! I am entitled to the best spare room.
THE CAPTAIN [continuing unmoved] She married a numskull. She told me she would marry anyone to get away from home.
LADY UTTERWORD You are pretending not to know me on purpose. I will leave the house.
MAZZINI DUNN enters from the hall. He is a little elderly man with bulging credulous eyes and earnest manners. He is dressed in a blue serge jacket suit with an unbuttoned mackintosh over it, and carries a soft black hat of clerical cut.
ELLIE At last! Captain Shotover, here is my father.
THE CAPTAIN This! Nonsense! not a bit like him [he goes away through the garden, shutting the door sharply behind him].
LADY UTTERWORD I will not be ignored and pretended to be somebody else. I will have it out with Papa now, this instant. [To MAZZINI.] Excuse me. [She follows the captain out, making a hasty bow to MAZZINI, who returns it.]
MRS HUSHABYE [hospitably shaking hands] How good of you to come, Mr Dunn! You don’t mind Papa, do you? He is as mad as a hatter, you know, but quite harmless and extremely clever. You will have some delightful talks with him.
MAZZINI I hope so. [To ELLIE.] So here you are, Ellie, dear. [He draws her arm affectionately through his.] I must thank you, Mrs Hushabye, for your kindness to my daughter. I’m afraid she would have had no holiday if you had not invited her.
MRS HUSHABYE Not at all. Very nice of her to come and attract young people to the house for us.
MAZZINI [smiling] I’m afraid Ellie is not interested in young men, Mrs Hushabye. Her taste is on the graver, solider side.
MRS HUSHABYE [with a sudden rather hard brightness in her manner ] Won’t you take off your overcoat, Mr Dunn? You will find a cupboard for coats and hats and things in the corner of the hall.
MAZZINI [hastily releasing ELLIE] Yes — thank you — I had better — [he goes out].
MRS HUSHABYE [emphatically] The old brute!
ELLIE Who?
MRS HUSHABYE Who! Him. He. It [pointing after MAZZINI]. “Graver, solider tastes,” indeed!
ELLIE [aghast] You don’t mean that you were speaking like that of my father!
MRS HUSHABYE I was.You know I was.
ELLIE [with dignity] I will leave your house at once. [She turns to the door.]
MRS HUSHABYE If you attempt it, I’ll tell your father why.
ELLIE [turning again] Oh! How can you treat a visitor like this, Mrs Hushabye?
MRS HUSHABYE I thought you were going to call me Hesione.
ELLIE Certainly not now?
MRS HUSHABYE Very well: I’ll tell your father.
ELLIE [distressed] Oh!
MRS HUSHABYE If you turn a hair — if you take his part against me and against your own heart for a moment, I’ll give that born soldier of freedom a piece of my mind that will stand him on his selfish old head for a week.
ELLIE Hesione! My father selfish! How little you know — She is interrupted by MAZZINI, who returns, excited and perspiring.
MAZZINI Ellie, Mangan has come: I thought you’d like to know. Excuse me, Mrs Hushabye, the strange old gentleman —
MRS HUSHABYE Papa. Quite so.
MAZZINI Oh, I beg your pardon, of course: I was a little confused by his manner. He is making Mangan help him with something in the garden; and he wants me too — A powerful whistle is heard.
THE CAPTAIN’ S VOICE Bosun ahoy! [the whistle is repeated].
MAZZINI [flustered] Oh dear! I believe he is whistling for me. [He hurries out.]
MRS HUSHABYE Now my father is a wonderful man if you like.
ELLIE Hesione, listen to me.You don’t understand. My father and Mr Mangan were boys together. Mr Ma —
MRS HUSHABYE I don’t care what they were: we must sit down if you are going to begin as far back as that. [She snatches at ELLIE’s waist, and makes her sit down on the sofa beside her.] Now, pettikins, tell me all about Mr Mangan. They call him Boss Mangan, don’t they? He is a Napoleon of industry and disgustingly rich, isn’t he? Why isn’t your father rich?
ELLIE My poor father should never have been in business. His parents were poets; and they gave him the noblest ideas; but they could not afford to give him a profession.
MRS HUSHABYE Fancy your grandparents, with their eyes in fine frenzy rolling! And so your poor father had to go into business. Hasn’t he succeeded in it?
ELLIE He always used to say he could succeed if he only had some capital. He fought his way along, to keep a roof over our heads and bring us up well; but it was always a struggle: always the same difficulty of not having capital enough. I don’t know how to describe it to you.
MRS HUSHABYE Poor Ellie! I know. Pulling the devil by the tail.
ELLIE [hurt] Oh, no. Not like that. It was at least dignified.
MRS HUSHABYE That made it all the harder, didn’t it? I shouldn’t have pulled the devil by the tail with dignity. I should have pulled hard — [between her teeth] hard. Well? Go on.
ELLIE At last it seemed that all our troubles were at an end. Mr Mangan did an extraordinarily noble thing out of pure friendship for my father and respect for his character. He asked him how much capital he wanted, and gave it to him. I don’t mean that he lent it to him, or that he invested it in his business. He just simply made him a present of it. Wasn’t that splendid of him?
MRS HUSHABYE On condition that you married him?
ELLIE Oh, no, no, no! This wa
s when I was a child. He had never even seen me: he never came to our house. It was absolutely disinterested. Pure generosity.
MRS HUSHABYE Oh! I beg the gentleman’s pardon. Well, what became of the money?
ELLIE We all got new clothes and moved into another house. And I went to another school for two years.
MRS HUSHABYE Only two years?
ELLIE That was all: for at the end of two years my father was utterly ruined.
MRS HUSHABYE How?
ELLIE I don’t know. I never could understand. But it was dreadful. When we were poor my father had never been in debt. But when he launched out into business on a large scale, he had to incur liabilities. When the business went into liquidation he owed more money than Mr Mangan had given him.
MRS HUSHABYE Bit off more than he could chew, I suppose.
ELLIE I think you are a little unfeeling about it.
MRS HUSHABYE My pettikins, you mustn’t mind my way of talking. I was quite as sensitive and particular as you once; but I have picked up so much slang from the children that I am really hardly presentable. I suppose your father had no head for business, and made a mess of it.
ELLIE Oh, that just shows how entirely you are mistaken about him. The business turned out a great success. It now pays forty-four per cent after deducting the excess profits tax.
MRS HUSHABYE Then why aren’t you rolling in money?
ELLIE I don’t know. It seems very unfair to me.You see, my father was made bankrupt. It nearly broke his heart, because he had persuaded several of his friends to put money into the business. He was sure it would succeed; and events proved that he was quite right. But they all lost their money. It was dreadful. I don’t know what we should have done but for Mr Mangan.
MRS HUSHABYE What! Did the Boss come to the rescue again, after all his money being thrown away?
ELLIE He did indeed, and never uttered a reproach to my father. He bought what was left of the business — the buildings and the machinery and things — from the official trustee for enough money to enable my father to pay six and eightpence in the pound and get his discharge.[302] Everyone pitied papa so much, and saw so plainly that he was an honorable man, that they let him off at six-and-eight-pence instead of ten shillings. Then Mr Mangan started a company to take up the business, and made my father a manager in it to save us from starvation; for I wasn’t earning anything then.
Pygmalion and Three Other Plays Page 52