Man and Superman and Three Other Plays (36 page)

UNCLE TITUS
[indignantly]
Be ashamed of yourself, sir—

RICHARD
[interrupting him and shaking his hand in spite of him]
I am: I am; but I am proud of my uncle—proud of all my relatives—
[again surveying them]
who could look at them and not be proud and joyful?
[UNCLE TITUS, overborne, resumes his seat on the sofa. RICHARD turns to the table].
Ah, Mr. Anderson, still at the good work, still shepherding them. Keep them up to the mark, minister, keep them up to the mark. Come!
[with a spring he seats himself on the table and takes up the decanter]
clink a glass with me, Pastor, for the sake of old times.

ANDERSON You know, I think, Mr. Dudgeon, that I do not drink before dinner.

RICHARD You will, some day, Pastor: Uncle William used to drink before breakfast. Come: it will give your sermons unction.
[He smells the wine and makes a wry face].
But do not begin on my mother's company sherry. I stole some when I was six years old; and I have been a temperate man ever since.
[He puts the decanter down and changes the subject
]
.
So I hear you are married, Pastor, and that your wife has a most ungodly allowance of good looks.

ANDERSON [
quietly indicating JUDITH
] Sir: you are in the presence of my wife. [
JUDITH rises and stands with stony propriety].

RICHARD [
quickly slipping down from the table with instinctive good manners]
Your servant, madam: no offence. [
He
looks at her
earnestly
]
.
You deserve your reputation; but I'm sorry to see by your expression that youre a good woman.
[She looks shocked, and sits down amid a murmur of indignant sympathy from his relatives. ANDERSON, sensible enough to know that these demonstrations can only gratify and encourage a man who is deliberately trying to provoke them, remains perfectly goodhumored].
All the same, Pastor, I respect you more than I did before. By the way, did I hear, or did I not, that our late lamented Uncle Peter, though unmarried, was a father?

UNCLE TITUS He had only one irregular child, sir. RICHARD Only one! He thinks one a mere trifle! I blush for you, Uncle Titus.

ANDERSON Mr. Dudgeon: you are in the presence of your mother and her grief.

RICHARD It touches me profoundly, Pastor. By the way, what has become of the irregular child?

ANDERSON [
pointing to ESSIE]
There, sir, listening to you.

RICHARD [
shocked into sincerity]
What! Why the devil didnt you tell me that before? Children suffer enough in this house without—[
He hurries remorsefully to ESSIE].
Come, little cousin! never mind me: it was not meant to hurt you. [
She looks up gratefully at him. Her tearstained face affects him violently, and he bursts out, in a transport of wrath]
Who has been making her cry? Who has been ill-treating her? By God—

MRS. DUDGEON
[rising and confronting him]
Silence your blasphemous tongue. I will bear no more of this. Leave my house.

RICHARD How do you know it's your house until the will is read?
[They look at one another for a moment with intense hatred; and then she sinks, checkmated, into her chair. RICHARD goes boldly up past ANDERSON to the window, where he takes the railed chair in his hand].
Ladies and gentlemen: as the eldest son of my late father, and the unworthy head of this household, I bid you welcome. By your leave, Minister Anderson: by your leave, Lawyer Hawkins. The head of the table for the head of the family.
[He places the chair at the table between the minister and the attorney; sits down between them; and addresses the assembly with a presidential air].
We meet on a melancholy occasion: a father dead! an uncle actually hanged, and probably damned.
[He shakes his head deploringly. The relatives freeze with horror].
T h a t sright: pull your longest faces
[his voice suddenly sweetens gravely as his glance lights on ESSIE]
provided only there is hope in the eyes of the child. [
Briskly
] Now then, Lawyer Hawkins: business, business. Get on with the will, man.

TITUS Do not let yourself be ordered or hurried, Mr. Hawkins.

HAWKINS
[very politely and willingly]
Mr. Dudgeon means no offence, I feel sure. I will not keep you one second, Mr. Dudgeon. Just while I get my glasses—[
he fumbles for
them. The DUDGEONS look at one another with misgiving].

RICHARD Aha! They notice your civility, Mr. Hawkins. They are prepared for the worst. A glass of wine to clear your voice before you begin.
[He pours out one for him and hands it; then pours one for himself
]
.

HAWKINS Thank you, Mr. Dudgeon. Your good health, sir.

RICHARD Yours, sir.
[With the glass halfway to his lips, he checks himself, giving a dubious glance at the wine, and adds, with quaint intensity]
Will anyone oblige me with a glass of water?

HAWKINS The will is not exactly in proper legal phraseology.

RICHARD No: my father died without the consolations of the law.

HAWKINS Good again, Mr. Dudgeon, good again.
[Preparing to read]
Are you ready, sir?

RICHARD Ready, aye ready. For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful. Go ahead.

HAWKINS
[reading]
“This is the last will and testament of me Timothy Dudgeon on my deathbed at Nevinstown on the road from Springtown to Websterbridge on this twenty-fourth day of September, one thousand seven hundred and seventy seven. I hereby revoke all former wills made by me and declare that I am of sound mind and know well what I am doing and that this is my real will according to my own wish and affections.”

RICHARD [
glancing at his mother]
Aha!

HAWKINS [
shaking his head]
Bad phraseology, sir, wrong phraseology. “I give and bequeath a hundred pounds to my younger son Christopher Dudgeon, fifty pounds to be paid to him on the day of his marriage to Sarah Wilkins if she will have him, and ten pounds on the birth of each of his children up to the number of five.”

RICHARD How if she wont have him?

CHRISTY She will if I have fifty pounds.

RICHARD Good, my brother. Proceed.

HAWKINS “I give and bequeath to my wife Annie Dudgeon, born Annie Primrose”—you see he did not know the law, Mr. Dudgeon: your mother was not born Annie: she was christened so—“an annuity of fifty two pounds a year for life
[MRS. DUDGEON, with all eyes on her, holds herself convulsively rigid]
to be paid out of the interest on her own money”—t here‘ssaway to put it, Mr. Dudgeon! Her own money!

MRS. DUDGEON A very good way to put God's truth. It was every penny my own. Fifty-two pounds a year!

HAWKINS “And I recommend her for her goodness and piety to the forgiving care of her children, having stood between them and her as far as I could to the best of my ability.”

MRS. DUDGEON And this is my reward!
[raging inwardly]
You know what I think, Mr. Anderson: you know the word I gave to it.

ANDERSON It cannot be helped, Mrs. Dudgeon. We must take what comes to us. [
To HAWKINS
]
.
Go on, sir.

HAWKINS “I give and bequeath my house at Websterbridge with the land belonging to it and all the rest of my property soever to my eldest son and heir, Richard Dudgeon.”

RICHARD Oho! The fatted calf, Minister, the fatted calf.

HAWKINS “On these conditions—”

RICHARD The devil! Are there conditions?

HAWKINS “To wit: first, that he shall not let my brother Peter's natural child starve or be driven by want to an evil life.”

RICHARD [
emphatically, striking his fist on the table]
Agreed.
MRS. DUDGEON, turning to look malignantly at ESSIE, misses her and looks quickly round to see where she has moved to; then, seeing that she has left the room without leave, closes her lips vengefully.

HAWKINS “Second, that he shall be a good friend to my old horse Jim”—[
again shaking his head]
he should have written James, sir.

RICHARD James shall live in clover. Go on.

HAWKINS—“and keep my deaf farm laborer Prodger Feston in his service.”

RICHARD Prodger Feston shall get drunk every Saturday.

HAWKINS “Third, that he make Christy a present on his marriage out of the ornaments in the best room.”

RICHARD
[holding up the stuffed birds]
Here you are, Christy.

CHRISTY
[disappointed]
I'd rather have the china peacocks.

RICHARD You shall have both.
[CHRISTY is greatly pleased].
Go on.

HAWKINS “Fourthly and lastly, that he try to live at peace with his mother as far as she will consent to it.”

RICHARD [
dubiously
] Hm! Anything more, Mr. Hawkins?

HAWKINS [
solemnly
] “Finally I give and bequeath my soul into my Maker's hands, humbly asking forgiveness for all my sins and mistakes, and hoping that he will so guide my son that it may not be said that I have done wrong in trusting to him rather than to others in the perplexity of my last hour in this strange place.”

ANDERSON Amen.

THE UNCLES AND AUNTS Amen.

RICHARD My mother does not say Amen.

MRS. DUDGEON
[rising, unable to give up her property without a struggle
] Mr. Hawkins: is that a proper will? Remember, I have his rightful, legal will, drawn up by yourself, leaving all to me.

HAWKINS This is a very wrongly and irregularly worded will, Mrs. Dudgeon; though
[turning politely to RICHARD]
it contains in my judgment an excellent disposal of his property.

ANDERSON
[interposing before MRS. DUDGEON can retort]
That is not what you are asked, Mr. Hawkins. Is it a legal will?

HAWKINS The courts will sustain it against the other.

ANDERSON But why, if the other is more lawfully worded?

HAWKINS Because, sir, the courts will sustain the claim of a man—and that man the eldest son—against any woman, if they can. I warned you, Mrs. Dudgeon, when you got me to draw that other will, that it was not a wise will, and that though you might make him sign it, would never be easy until he revoked it. But you wouldn't take advice; and now Mr. Richard is cock of the walk.
[He takes his hat from the floor; rises; and begins pocketing his papers and spectacles].

This is the signal for the breaking-up of the party. ANDERSON takes his hat from the rack and joins UNCLE WILLIAM at the fire. UNCLE TITUS fetches JUDITH her things from the rack. The three on the sofa rise and chat with HAWKINS. MRS. DUDGEON, now an intruder in her own house, stands erect, crushed by the weight of the law on women, accepting it, as she has been trained to accept all monstrous calamities, as proofs of the greatness of the power that inflicts them, and of her own wormlike insignificance. For at this time, remember, Mary Wollstonecraft is as yet only a girl of eighteen, and her Vindication of the Rights of Women is still fourteen years off. MRS. DUDGEON is rescued from her
apathy by ESSIE, who comes back with the
jug full of
water. She is taking it to RICHARD when MRS. DUDGEON stops her.

MRS. DUDGEON [
threatening her]
Where have you been? [
ESSIE, appalled, tries to answer, but cannot].
How dare you go out by yourself after the orders I gave you?

ESSIE He asked for a drink—[
she stops, her tongue cleaving to her palate with terror].

JUDITH
[with gentler severity]
Who asked for a drink? [
ESSIE, speechless, points to RICHARD].

RICHARD What! I!

JUDITH [
shocked
] Oh Essie, Essie!

RICHARD I believe I did. [
He takes a glass and holds it to ESSIE to be filled. Her hand shakes].
What! afraid of me?

ESSIE [
quickly
] No. I—[
She pours out the water].

RICHARD [
tasting it]
Ah, youve been up the street to the market gate spring to get that.
[He takes a draught].
Delicious! Thank you.
[Unfortunately, at this moment he chances to catch sight of JUDITH's face, which expresses the most prudish disapproval of his evident attraction for ESSIE, who is devouring him with her grateful eyes. His mocking expression returns instantly. He puts down the glass; deliberately winds his arm round ESSIE's shoulders; and brings her into the middle of the company. MRS. DUDGEON being in ESSIE's way as they come past the table, he says] By your leave, mother [and compels her to make way for them].
What do they call you? Bessie?

ESSIE Essie.

RICHARD Essie, to be sure. Are you a good girl, Essie?

ESSIE [
greatly disappointed that he, of all people, should begin at her in this way]
Yes.
[She looks doubtfully at JUDITH
]
.
I think so. I mean I—I hope so.

RICHARD Essie: did you ever hear of a person called the devil?

ANDERSON
[revolted]
Shame on you, sir, with a mere child—

RICHARD By your leave, Minister: I do not interfere with your sermons: do not you interrupt mine.
[To ESSIE]
Do you know what they call me, Essie?

ESSIE Dick.

RICHARD [
amused: patting her on the shoulder]
Yes, Dick; but something else too. They call me the Devil's Disciple.

ESSIE Why do you let them?

RICHARD [
seriously
] Because it's true. I was brought up in the other service; but I knew from the first that the Devil was my natural master and captain and friend. I saw that he was in the right, and that the world cringed to his conqueror only through fear. I prayed secretly to him; and he comforted me, and saved me from having my spirit broken in this house of children's tears. I promised him my soul, and swore an oath that I would stand up for him in this world and stand by him in the next. [
Solemnly
] That promise and that oath made a man of me. From this day this house is his home; and no child shall cry in it: this hearth is his altar; and no soul shall ever cower over it in the dark evenings and be afraid. Now [
turning forcibly on the rest]
which of you good men will take this child and rescue her from the house of the devil?