by Unknown
ERNEST (airily). You stick to me, Brocky, and I’ll pull you through.
CRICHTON. Monsieur Fleury.
ERNEST. The chef.
LORD LOAM (shaking hands with the chef). Very charmed to see you, Monsieur Fleury.
FLEURY. Thank you very much.
(FLEURY bows to AGATHA, who is not effusive.)
LORD LOAM (warningly). Agatha — recitation!
(She tosses her head, but immediately finds a seat and tea for M. FLEURY. TREHERNE and ERNEST move about, making themselves amiable. LADY MARY is presiding at the tea-tray.)
CRICHTON. Mr. Rolleston.
LORD LOAM (shaking hands with his valet). How do you do, Rolleston?
(CATHERINE looks after the wants of ROLLESTON.)
CRICHTON. Mr. Tompsett.
(TOMPSETT, the coachman, is received with honours, from which he shrinks.)
CRICHTON. Miss Fisher.
(This superb creature is no less than LADY MARY’S maid, and even LORD LOAM is a little nervous.)
LORD LOAM. This is a pleasure, Miss Fisher.
ERNEST (unabashed). If I might venture, Miss Fisher (and he takes her unto himself).
CRICHTON. Miss Simmons.
LORD LOAM (to CATHERINE’S maid). You are always welcome, Miss Simmons.
ERNEST (perhaps to kindle jealousy in Miss FISHER). At last we meet. Won’t you sit down?
CRICHTON. Mademoiselle Jeanne.
LORD LOAM. Charmed to see you, Mademoiselle Jeanne.
(A place is found for AGATHA’S maid, and the scene is now an animated one; but still our host thinks his girls are not sufficiently sociable. He frowns on LADY MARY.)
LADY MARY (in alarm). Mr. Treherne, this is Fisher, my maid.
LORD LOAM (sharply). Your what, Mary?
LADY MARY. My friend.
CRICHTON. Thomas.
LORD LOAM. How do you do, Thomas?
(The first footman gives him a reluctant hand.)
CRICHTON. John.
LORD LOAM. How do you do, John?
(ERNEST signs to LORD BROCKLEHURST, who hastens to him.)
ERNEST (introducing). Brocklehurst, this is John. I think you have already met on the doorstep.
CRICHTON. Jane.
(She comes, wrapping her hands miserably in her apron.)
LORD LOAM (doggedly). Give me your hand, Jane.
CRICHTON. Gladys.
ERNEST. How do you do, Gladys. You know my uncle?
LORD LOAM. Your hand, Gladys.
(He bestows her on AGATHA.)
CRICHTON. Tweeny.
(She is a very humble and frightened kitchenmaid, of whom we are to see more.)
LORD LOAM. So happy to see you.
FISHER. John, I saw you talking to Lord Brocklehurst just now; introduce me.
LORD BROCKLEHURST (at the same moment to ERNEST). That’s an uncommon pretty girl; if I must feed one of them, Ernest, that’s the one.
(But ERNEST tries to part him and FISHER as they are about to shake hands.)
ERNEST. No you don’t, it won’t do, Brocky. (To Miss FISHER.) You are too pretty, my dear. Mother wouldn’t like it. (Discovering TWEENY.) Here’s something safer. Charming girl, Brocky, dying to know you; let me introduce you. Tweeny, Lord Brocklehurst — Lord Brocklehurst, Tweeny.
(BROCKLEHURST accepts his fate; but he still has an eye for FISHER, and something may come of this.)
LORD LOAM (severely). They are not all here, Crichton.
CRICHTON (with a sigh). Odds and ends.
(A STABLE-BOY and a PAGE are shown in, and for a moment no daughter of the house advances to them.)
LORD LOAM (with a roving eye on his children). Which is to recite?
(The last of the company are, so to say, embraced.)
LORD LOAM (to TOMPSETT, as they partake of tea together). And how are all at home?
TOMPSETT. Fairish, my lord, if ‘tis the horses you are inquiring for?
LORD LOAM. No, no, the family. How’s the baby?
TOMPSETT. Blooming, your lordship.
LORD LOAM. A very fine boy. I remember saying so when I saw him; nice little fellow.
TOMPSETT (not quite knowing whether to let it pass). Beg pardon, my lord, it’s a girl.
LORD LOAM. A girl? Aha! ha! ha! exactly what I said. I distinctly remember saying, If it’s spared it will be a girl.
(CRICHTON now comes down.)
LORD LOAM. Very delighted to see you, Crichton.
(CRICHTON has to shake hands.)
Mary, you know Mr. Crichton?
(He wanders off in search of other prey.)
LADY MARY. Milk and sugar, Crichton?
CRICHTON. I’m ashamed to be seen talking to you, my lady.
LADY MARY. To such a perfect servant as you all this must be most distasteful. (CRICHTON is too respectful to answer.) Oh, please do speak, or I shall have to recite. You do hate it, don’t you?
CRICHTON. It pains me, your ladyship. It disturbs the etiquette of the servants’ hall. After last month’s meeting the pageboy, in a burst of equality, called me Crichton. He was dismissed.
LADY MARY. I wonder — I really do — how you can remain with us.
CRICHTON. I should have felt compelled to give notice, my lady, if the master had not had a seat in the Upper House. I cling to that.
LADY MARY. Do go on speaking. Tell me, what did Mr. Ernest mean by saying he was not young enough to know everything?
CRICHTON. I have no idea, my lady.
LADY MARY. But you laughed.
CRICHTON. My lady, he is the second son of a peer.
LADY MARY. Very proper sentiments. You are a good soul, Crichton.
LORD BROCKLEHURST (desperately to TWEENY). And now tell me, have you been to the Opera? What sort of weather have you been having in the kitchen? (TWEENY gurgles.) For Heaven’s sake, woman, be articulate.
CRICHTON (still talking to LADY MARY). No, my lady; his lordship may compel us to be equal upstairs, but there will never be equality in the servants’ hall.
LORD LOAM (overhearing this). What’s that? No equality? Can’t you see, Crichton, that our divisions into classes are artificial, that if we were to return to nature, which is the aspiration of my life, all would be equal?
CRICHTON. If I may make so bold as to contradict your lordship —
LORD LOAM (with an effort). Go on.
CRICHTON. The divisions into classes, my lord, are not artificial. They are the natural outcome of a civilised society. (To LADY MARY.) There must always be a master and servants in all civilised communities, my lady, for it is natural, and whatever is natural is right.
LORD LOAM (wincing). It is very unnatural for me to stand here and allow you to talk such nonsense.
CRICHTON (eagerly). Yes, my lord, it is. That is what I have been striving to point out to your lordship.
AGATHA (to CATHERINE). What is the matter with Fisher? She is looking daggers.
CATHERINE. The tedious creature; some question of etiquette, I suppose.
(She sails across to FISHER.)
How are you, Fisher?
FISHER (with a toss of her head). I am nothing, my lady, I am nothing at all.
AGATHA. Oh dear, who says so?
FISHER (affronted). His lordship has asked that kitchen wench to have a second cup of tea.
CATHERINE. But why not?
FISHER. If it pleases his lordship to offer it to her before offering it to me —
AGATHA. So that is it. Do you want another cup of tea, Fisher?
FISHER. No, my lady — but my position — I should have been asked first.
AGATHA. Oh dear.
(All this has taken some time, and by now the feeble appetites of the uncomfortable guests have been satiated. But they know there is still another ordeal to face — his lordship’s monthly speech. Every one awaits it with misgiving — the servants lest they should applaud, as last time, in the wrong place, and the daughters because he may be personal about them, as the time before. ERNEST is annoyed that there should be th
is speech at all when there is such a much better one coming, and BROCKLEHURST foresees the degradation of the peerage. All are thinking of themselves alone save CRICHTON, who knows his master’s weakness, and fears he may stick in the middle. LORD LOAM, however, advances cheerfully to his doom. He sees ERNEST’S stool, and artfully stands on it, to his nephew’s natural indignation. The three ladies knit their lips, the servants look down their noses, and the address begins.)
LORD LOAM. My friends, I am glad to see you all looking so happy. It used to be predicted by the scoffer that these meetings would prove distasteful to you. Are they distasteful? I hear you laughing at the question.
(He has not heard them, but he hears them now, the watchful CRICHTON giving them a lead.)
No harm in saying that among us to-day is one who was formerly hostile to the movement, but who to-day has been won over. I refer to Lord Brocklehurst, who, I am sure, will presently say to me that if the charming lady now by his side has derived as much pleasure from his company as he has derived from hers, he will be more than satisfied.
(All look at TWEENY, who trembles.)
For the time being the artificial and unnatural — I say unnatural (glaring at CRICHTON, who bows slightly) — barriers of society are swept away. Would that they could be swept away for ever.
(The PAGEBOY cheers, and has the one moment of prominence in his life. He grows up, marries and has children, but is never really heard of again.)
But that is entirely and utterly out of the question. And now for a few months we are to be separated. As you know, my daughters and Mr. Ernest and Mr. Treherne are to accompany me on my yacht, on a voyage to distant parts of the earth. In less than forty-eight hours we shall be under weigh.
(But for CRICHTON’S eye the reckless PAGEBOY would repeat his success.)
Do not think our life on the yacht is to be one long idle holiday. My views on the excessive luxury of the day are well known, and what I preach I am resolved to practise. I have therefore decided that my daughters, instead of having one maid each as at present, shall on this voyage have but one maid between them.
(Three maids rise; also three mistresses.)
CRICHTON. My lord!
LORD LOAM. My mind is made up.
ERNEST. I cordially agree.
LORD LOAM. And now, my friends, I should like to think that there is some piece of advice I might give you, some thought, some noble saying over which you might ponder in my absence. In this connection I remember a proverb, which has had a great effect on my own life. I first heard it many years ago. I have never forgotten it. It constantly cheers and guides me. That proverb is — that proverb was — the proverb I speak of —
(He grows pale and taps his forehead.)
LADY MARY. Oh dear, I believe he has forgotten it.
LORD LOAM (desperately). The proverb — that proverb to which I refer —
(Alas, it has gone. The distress is general. He has not even the sense to sit down. He gropes for the proverb in the air. They try applause, but it is no help.)
I have it now — (not he).
LADY MARY (with confidence). Crichton.
(He does not fail her. As quietly as if he were in goloshes, mind as well as feet, he dismisses the domestics; they go according to precedence as they entered, yet, in a moment, they are gone. Then he signs to MR. TREHERNE, and they conduct LORD LOAM with dignity from the room. His hands are still catching flies; he still mutters, ‘The proverb — that proverb’; but he continues, owing to CRICHTON’S skilful treatment, to look every inch a peer. The ladies have now an opportunity to air their indignation.)
LADY MARY. One maid among three grown women!
LORD BROCKLEHURST. Mary, I think I had better go. That dreadful kitchenmaid —
LADY MARY. I can’t blame you, George.
(He salutes her.)
LORD BROCKLEHURST. Your father’s views are shocking to me, and I am glad I am not to be one of the party on the yacht. My respect for myself, Mary, my natural anxiety as to what mother will say. I shall see you, darling, before you sail.
(He bows to the others and goes.)
ERNEST. Selfish brute, only thinking of himself. What about my speech?
LADY MARY. One maid among three of us. What’s to be done?
ERNEST. Pooh! You must do for yourselves, that’s all.
LADY MARY. Do for ourselves. How can we know where our things are kept?
AGATHA. Are you aware that dresses button up the back?
CATHERINE. How are we to get into our shoes and be prepared for the carriage?
LADY MARY. Who is to put us to bed, and who is to get us up, and how shall we ever know it’s morning if there is no one to pull up the blinds?
(CRICHTON crosses on his way out.)
ERNEST. How is his lordship now?
CRICHTON. A little easier, sir.
LADY MARY. Crichton, send Fisher to me.
(He goes.)
ERNEST. I have no pity for you girls, I —
LADY MARY. Ernest, go away, and don’t insult the broken-hearted.
ERNEST. And uncommon glad I am to go. Ta-ta, all of you. He asked me to say a few words. I came here to say a few words, and I’m not at all sure that I couldn’t bring an action against him.
(He departs, feeling that he has left a dart behind him. The girls are alone with their tragic thoughts.)
LADY MARY (becomes a mother to the younger ones at last). My poor sisters, come here. (They go to her doubtfully.) We must make this draw us closer together. I shall do my best to help you in every way. Just now I cannot think of myself at all.
AGATHA. But how unlike you, Mary.
LADY MARY. It is my duty to protect my sisters.
CATHERINE. I never knew her so sweet before, Agatha. (Cautiously.) What do you propose to do, Mary?
LADY MARY. I propose when we are on the yacht to lend Fisher to you when I don’t need her myself.
AGATHA. Fisher?
LADY MARY (who has the most character of the three). Of course, as the eldest, I have decided that it is my maid we shall take with us.
CATHERINE (speaking also for AGATHA). Mary, you toad.
AGATHA. Nothing on earth would induce Fisher to lift her hand for either me or Catherine.
LADY MARY. I was afraid of it, Agatha. That is why I am so sorry for you.
(The further exchange of pleasantries is interrupted by the arrival of FISHER.)
LADY MARY. Fisher, you heard what his lordship said?
FISHER. Yes, my lady.
LADY MARY (coldly, though the others would have tried blandishment). You have given me some satisfaction of late, Fisher, and to mark my approval I have decided that you shall be the maid who accompanies us.
FISHER (acidly). I thank you, my lady.
LADY MARY. That is all; you may go.
FISHER (rapping it out). If you please, my lady, I wish to give notice.
(CATHERINE and AGATHA gleam, but LADY MARY is of sterner stuff.)
LADY MARY (taking up a book). Oh, certainly — you may go.
CATHERINE. But why, Fisher?
FISHER. I could not undertake, my lady, to wait upon three. We don’t do it. (In an indignant outburst to LADY MARY.) Oh, my lady, to think that this affront —
LADY MARY (looking up). I thought I told you to go, Fisher.
(FISHER stands for a moment irresolute; then goes. As soon as she has gone LADY MARY puts down her book and weeps. She is a pretty woman, but this is the only pretty thing we have seen her do yet.)
AGATHA (succinctly). Serves you right.
(CRICHTON comes.)
CATHERINE. It will be Simmons after all. Send Simmons to me.
CRICHTON (after hesitating). My lady, might I venture to speak?
CATHERINE. What is it?
CRICHTON. I happen to know, your ladyship, that Simmons desires to give notice for the same reason as Fisher.
CATHERINE. Oh!
AGATHA (triumphant). Then, Catherine, we take Jeanne.
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