Getting Married (2/2) (8/12)

| Soames | Inexorably. I’m waiting for my instructions as to the term of the agreement. | | Reginald | Impatiently, leaving the hearth and going behind Soames. It’s no good talking all over the shop like this. We shall be here all day. I propose that the agreement holds good until the parties are divorced. | | Soames | They can’t be divorced. They will not be married. | | Reginald | But if they can’t be divorced, then this will be worse than marriage. | | Mrs. Bridgenorth | Of course it will. Do stop this nonsense. Why, who are the children to belong to? | | Lesbia | We have already settled that they are to belong to the mother. | | Reginald | No: I’m dashed if you have. I’ll fight for the ownership of my own children tooth and nail; and so will a good many other fellows, I can tell you. | | Edith | It seems to me that they should be divided between the parents. If Cecil wishes any of the children to be his exclusively, he should pay a certain sum for the risk and trouble of bringing them into the world: say a thousand pounds apiece. The interest on this could go towards the support of the child as long as we live together. But the principal would be my property. In that way, if Cecil took the child away from me, I should at least be paid for what it had cost me. | | Mrs. Bridgenorth | Putting down her knitting in amazement. Edith! Who ever heard of such a thing!! | | Edith | Well, how else do you propose to settle it? | | The Bishop | There is such a thing as a favorite child. What about the youngest child⁠—the Benjamin⁠—the child of its parents’ matured strength and charity, always better treated and better loved than the unfortunate eldest children of their youthful ignorance and wilfulness? Which parent is to own the youngest child, payment or no payment? | | Collins | There’s a third party, my lord. There’s the child itself. My wife is so fond of her children that they can’t call their lives their own. They all run away from home to escape from her. A child hasn’t a grown up person’s appetite for affection. A little of it goes a long way with them; and they like a good imitation of it better than the real thing, as every nurse knows. | | Soames | Are you sure that any of us, young or old, like the real thing as well as we like an artistic imitation of it? Is not the real thing accursed? Are not the best beloved always the good actors rather than the true sufferers? Is not love always falsified in novels and plays to make it endurable? I have noticed in myself a great delight in pictures of the Saints and of Our Lady; but when I fall under that most terrible curse of the priest’s lot, the curse of Joseph pursued by the wife of Potiphar, I am invariably repelled and terrified. | | Hotchkiss | Are you now speaking as a saint, Father Anthony, or as a solicitor? | | Soames | There is no difference. There is not one Christian rule for solicitors and another for saints. Their hearts are alike; and their way of salvation is along the same road. | | The Bishop | But “few there be that find it.” Can you find it for us, Anthony? | | Soames | It lies broad before you. It is the way to destruction that is narrow and tortuous. Marriage is an abomination which the Church has founded to cast out and replace by the communion of saints. I learnt that from every marriage settlement I drew up as a solicitor no less than from inspired revelation. You have set yourselves here to put your sin before you in black and white; and you can’t agree upon or endure one article of it. | | Sykes | It’s certainly rather odd that the whole thing seems to fall to pieces the moment you touch it. | | The Bishop | You see, when you give the devil fair play he loses his case. He has not been able to produce even the first clause of a working agreement; so I’m afraid we can’t wait for him any longer. | | Lesbia | Then the community will have to do without my children. | | Edith | And Cecil will have to do without me. | | Leo | Getting off the chest. And I positively will not marry Sinjon if he is not clever enough to make some provision for my looking after Rejjy. She leaves Hotchkiss, and goes back to her chair at the end of the table behind Mrs. Bridgenorth. | | Mrs. Bridgenorth | And the world will come to an end with this generation, I suppose. | | Collins | Can’t nothing be done, my lord? | | The Bishop | You can make divorce reasonable and decent: that is all. | | Lesbia | Thank you for nothing. If you will only make marriage reasonable and decent, you can do as you like about divorce. I have not stated my deepest objection to marriage; and I don’t intend to. There are certain rights I will not give any person over me. | | Reginald | Well, I think it jolly hard that a man should support his wife for years, and lose the chance of getting a really good wife, and then have her refuse to be a wife to him. | | Lesbia | I’m not going to discuss it with you, Rejjy. If your sense of personal honor doesn’t make you understand, nothing will. | | Soames | Implacably. I’m still awaiting my instructions. | | | They look at one another, each waiting for one of the others to suggest something. Silence. | | Reginald | Blankly. I suppose, after all, marriage is better than⁠—well, than the usual alternative. | | Soames | Turning fiercely on him. What right have you to say so? You know that the sins that are wasting and maddening this unhappy nation are those committed in wedlock. | | Collins | Well, the single ones can’t afford to indulge their affections the same as married people. | | Soames | Away with it all, I say. You have your Master’s commandments. Obey them. | | Hotchkiss | Rising and leaning on the back of the chair left vacant by the General. I really must point out to you, Father Anthony, that the early Christian rules of life were not made to last, because the early Christians did not believe that the world itself was going to last. Now we know that we shall have to go through with it. We have found that there are millions of years behind us; and we know that that there are millions before us. Mrs. Bridgenorth’s question remains unanswered. How is the world to go on? You say that that is our business⁠—that it is the business of Providence. But the modern Christian view is that we are here to do the business of Providence and nothing else. The question is, how. Am I not to use my reason to find out why? Isn’t that what my reason is for? Well, all my reason tells me at present is that you are an impracticable lunatic. | | Soames | Does that help? | | Hotchkiss | No. | | Soames | Then pray for light. | | Hotchkiss | No: I am a snob, not a beggar. He sits down in the General’s chair. | | Collins | We don’t seem to be getting on, do we? Miss Edith: you and Mr. Sykes had better go off to church and settle the right and wrong of it afterwards. It’ll ease your minds, believe me: I speak from experience. You will burn your boats, as one might say. | | Soames | We should never burn our boats. It is death in life. | | Collins | Well, Father, I will say for you that you have views of your own and are not afraid to out with them. But some of us are of a more cheerful disposition. On the Borough Council now, you would be in a minority of one. You must take human nature as it is. | | Soames | Upon what compulsion must I? I’ll take divine nature as it is. I’ll not hold a candle to the devil. | | The Bishop | That’s a very unchristian way of treating the devil. | | Reginald | Well, we don’t seem to be getting any further, do we? | | The Bishop | Will you give it up and get married, Edith? | | Edith | No. What I propose seems to me quite reasonable. | | The Bishop | And you, Lesbia? | | Lesbia | Never. | | Mrs. Bridgenorth | Never is a long word, Lesbia. Don’t say it. | | Lesbia | With a flash of temper. Don’t pity me, Alice, please. As I said before, I am an English lady, quite prepared to do without anything I can’t have on honorable conditions. | | Soames | After a silence expressive of utter deadlock. I am still awaiting my instructions. | | Reginald | Well, we don’t seem to be getting along, do we? | | Leo | Out of patience. You said that before, Rejjy. Do not repeat yourself. | | Reginald | Oh, bother! He goes to the garden door and looks out gloomily. | | Soames | Rising with the paper in his hands. Psha! He tears it in pieces. So much for the contract! | | The Voice Of The Beadle | By your leave there, gentlemen. Make way for the Mayoress. Way for the worshipful the Mayoress, my lords and gentlemen. He comes in through the tower, in cocked hat and goldbraided overcoat, bearing the borough mace, and posts himself at the entrance. By your leave, gentlemen, way for the worshipful the Mayoress. | | Collins | Moving back towards the wall. Mrs. George, my lord. | | | Mrs. George* is every inch a Mayoress in point of stylish dressing; and she does it very well indeed. There is nothing quiet about Mrs. George; she is not afraid of colors, and knows how to make the most of them. Not at all a lady in Lesbia’s use of the term as a class label, she proclaims herself to the first glance as the triumphant, pampered, wilful, intensely alive woman who has always been rich among poor people. In a historical museum she would explain Edward the Fourth’s taste for shopkeepers’ wives. Her age, which is certainly 40, and might be 50, is carried off by her vitality, her resilient figure, and her confident carriage. So far, a remarkably well-preserved woman. But her beauty is wrecked, like an ageless landscape ravaged by long and fierce war. Her eyes are alive, arresting and haunting; and there is still a turn of delicate beauty and pride in her indomitable chin; but her cheeks are wasted and lined, her mouth writhen and piteous. The whole face is a battlefield of the passions, quite deplorable until she speaks, when an alert sense of fun rejuvenates her in a moment, and makes her company irresistible. | | | All rise except Soames, who sits down. Leo joins Reginald at the garden door. Mrs. Bridgenorth hurries to the tower to receive her guest, and gets as far as Soames’s chair when Mrs. George appears. Hotchkiss, apparently recognizing her, recoils in consternation to the study door at the furthest corner of the room from her. | | Mrs. George | Coming straight to the Bishop with the ring in her hand. Here is your ring, my lord; and here am I. It’s your doing, remember: not mine. | | The Bishop | Good of you to come. | | Mrs. Bridgenorth | How do you do, Mrs. Collins? | | Mrs. George | Going to her past the Bishop, and gazing intently at her. Are you his wife? | | Mrs. Bridgenorth | The Bishop’s wife? Yes. | | Mrs. George | What a destiny! And you look like any other woman! | | Mrs. Bridgenorth | Introducing Lesbia. My sister, Miss Grantham. | | Mrs. George | So strangely mixed up with the story of the General’s life? | | The Bishop | You know the story of his life, then? | | Mrs. George | Not all. We reached the house before he brought it up to the present day. But enough to know the part played in it by Miss Grantham. | | Mrs. Bridgenorth | Introducing Leo. Mrs. Reginald Bridgenorth. | | Reginald | The late Mrs. Reginald Bridgenorth. | | Leo | Hold your tongue, Rejjy. At least have the decency to wait until the decree is made absolute. | | Mrs. George | To Leo. Well, you’ve more time to get married again than he has, haven’t you? | | Mrs. Bridgenorth | Introducing Hotchkiss. Mr. St. John Hotchkiss. | | | Hotchkiss, still far aloof by the study door, bows. | | Mrs. George | What! That! She makes a half tour of the kitchen and ends right in front of him. Young man: do you remember coming into my shop and telling me that my husband’s coals were out of place in your cellar, as Nature evidently intended them for the roof? | | Hotchkiss | I remember that deplorable impertinence with shame and confusion. You were kind enough to answer that Mr. Collins was looking out for a clever young man to write advertisements, and that I could take the job if I liked. | | Mrs. George | It’s still open. She turns to Edith. | | Mrs. Bridgenorth | My daughter Edith. She comes towards the study door to make the introduction. | | Mrs. George | The bride! Looking at Edith’s dressing-jacket. You’re not going to get married like that, are you? | | The Bishop | Coming round the table to Edith’s left. That’s just what we are discussing. Will you be so good as to join us and allow us the benefit of your wisdom and experience? | | Mrs. George | Do you want the Beadle as well? He’s a married man. | | | They all turn, involuntarily and contemplate the Beadle, who sustains their gaze with dignity. | | The Bishop | We think there are already too many men to be quite fair to the women. | | Mrs. George | Right, my lord. She goes back to the tower and addresses the Beadle. Take away that bauble, Joseph. Wait for me wherever you find yourself most comfortable in the neighborhood. The Beadle withdraws. She notices Collins for the first time. Hullo, Bill: you’ve got ’em all on too. Go and hunt up a drink for Joseph: there’s a dear. Collins goes out. She looks at Soames’s cassock and biretta. What! Another uniform! Are you the sexton? He rises. | | The Bishop | My chaplain, Father Anthony. | | Mrs. George | Oh Lord! To Soames, coaxingly. You don’t mind, do you? | | Soames | I mind nothing but my duties. | | The Bishop | You know everybody now, I think. | | Mrs. George | Turning to the railed chair. Who’s this? | | The Bishop | Oh, I beg your pardon, Cecil. Mr. Sykes. The bridegroom. | | Mrs. George | To Sykes. Adorned for the sacrifice, aren’t you? | | Sykes | It seems doubtful whether there is going to be any sacrifice. | | Mrs. George | Well, I want to talk to the women first. Shall we go upstairs and look at the presents and dresses? | | Mrs. Bridgenorth | If you wish, certainly. | | Reginald | But the men want to hear what you have to say too. | | Mrs. George | I’ll talk to them afterwards: one by one. | | Hotchkiss | To himself. Great heavens! | | Mrs. Bridgenorth | This way, Mrs. Collins. She leads the way out through the tower, followed by Mrs. George, Lesbia, Leo, and Edith. | | The Bishop | Shall we try to get through the last batch of letters whilst they are away, Soames? | | Soames | Yes, certainly. To Hotchkiss, who is in his way. Excuse me. | | | The Bishop and Soames go into the study, disturbing Hotchkiss, who, plunged in a strange reverie, has forgotten where he is. Awakened by Soames*, he stares distractedly; then, with sudden resolution, goes swiftly to the middle of the kitchen. | | Hotchkiss | Cecil. Rejjy. Startled by his urgency, they hurry to him. I’m frightfully sorry to desert on this day; but I must bolt. This time it really is pure cowardice. I can’t help it. | | Reginald | What are you afraid of? | | Hotchkiss | I don’t know. Listen to me. I was a young fool living by myself in London. I ordered my first ton of coals from that woman’s husband. At that time I did not know that it is not true economy to buy the lowest priced article: I thought all coals were alike, and tried the thirteen shilling kind because it seemed cheap. It proved unexpectedly inferior to the family Silkstone; and in the irritation into which the first scuttle threw me, I called at the shop and made an idiot of myself as she described. | | Sykes | Well, suppose you did! Laugh at it, man. |