Mrs. Warren’s Profession · Act III (2/2) (1/2)
Frank, seated on the chair near the sundial, on which he has placed the morning paper, is reading the Standard*. His father comes from the house, red-eyed and shivery, and meets Frank’s* eye with misgiving.
Frank Looking at his watch. Half-past eleven. Nice hour for a rector to come down to breakfast!
Rev. S. Don’t mock, Frank: don’t mock. I’m a little⁠—er⁠—Shivering.⁠—
Frank Off color?
Rev. S. Repudiating the expression. No, sir: unwell this morning. Where’s your mother?
Frank Don’t be alarmed: she’s not here. Gone to town by the 11:13 with Bessie. She left several messages for you. Do you feel equal to receiving them now, or shall I wait till you’ve breakfasted?
Rev. S. I have breakfasted, sir. I am surprised at your mother going to town when we have people staying with us. They’ll think it very strange.
Frank Possibly she has considered that. At all events, if Crofts is going to stay here, and you are going to sit up every night with him until four, recalling the incidents of your fiery youth, it is clearly my mother’s duty, as a prudent housekeeper, to go up to the stores and order a barrel of whisky and a few hundred siphons.
Rev. S. I did not observe that Sir George drank excessively.
Frank You were not in a condition to, gov’nor.
Rev. S. Do you mean to say that I⁠—
Frank Calmly. I never saw a beneficed clergyman less sober. The anecdotes you told about your past career were so awful that I really don’t think Praed would have passed the night under your roof if it hadn’t been for the way my mother and he took to one another.
Rev. S. Nonsense, sir. I am Sir George Crofts’ host. I must talk to him about something; and he has only one subject. Where is Mr. Praed now?
Frank He is driving my mother and Bessie to the station.
Rev. S. Is Crofts up yet?
Frank Oh, long ago. He hasn’t turned a hair: he’s in much better practice than you⁠—has kept it up ever since, probably. He’s taken himself off somewhere to smoke. Frank* resumes his paper. The Rev. S.* turns disconsolately towards the gate; then comes back irresolutely.
Rev. S. Er⁠—Frank.
Frank Yes.
Rev. S. Do you think the Warrens will expect to be asked here after yesterday afternoon?
Frank They’ve been asked already. Crofts informed us at breakfast that you told him to bring Mrs. Warren and Vivie over here today, and to invite them to make this house their home. It was after that communication that my mother found she must go to town by the 11:13 train.
Rev. S. With despairing vehemence. I never gave any such invitation. I never thought of such a thing.
Frank Compassionately. How do you know, gov’nor, what you said and thought last night? Hallo! here’s Praed back again.
Praed Coming in through the gate. Good morning.
Rev. S. Good morning. I must apologize for not having met you at breakfast. I have a touch of⁠—of⁠—
Frank Clergyman’s sore throat, Praed. Fortunately not chronic.
Praed Changing the subject. Well, I must say your house is in a charming spot here. Really most charming.
Rev. S. Yes: it is indeed. Frank will take you for a walk, Mr. Praed, if you like. I’ll ask you to excuse me: I must take the opportunity to write my sermon while Mrs. Gardner is away and you are all amusing yourselves. You won’t mind, will you?
Praed Certainly not. Don’t stand on the slightest ceremony with me.
Rev. S. Thank you. I’ll⁠—er⁠—er⁠—He stammers his way to the porch and vanishes into the house.
Praed Curious thing it must be writing a sermon every week.
Frank Ever so curious, if he did it. He buys ’em. He’s gone for some soda water.
Praed My dear boy: I wish you would be more respectful to your father. You know you can be so nice when you like.
Frank My dear Praddy: you forget that I have to live with the governor. When two people live together⁠—it don’t matter whether they’re father and son, husband and wife, brother and sister⁠—they can’t keep up the polite humbug which comes so easy for ten minutes on an afternoon call. Now the governor, who unites to many admirable domestic qualities the irresoluteness of a sheep and the pompousness and aggressiveness of a jackass⁠—
Praed No, pray, pray, my dear Frank, remember! He is your father.
Frank I give him due credit for that. Rising and flinging down his paper. But just imagine his telling Crofts to bring the Warrens over here! He must have been ever so drunk. You know, my dear Praddy, my mother wouldn’t stand Mrs. Warren for a moment. Vivie mustn’t come here until she’s gone back to town.
Praed But your mother doesn’t know anything about Mrs. Warren, does she?
Frank I don’t know. Her journey to town looks as if she did. Not that my mother would mind in the ordinary way: she has stuck like a brick to lots of women who had got into trouble. But they were all nice women. That’s what makes the real difference. Mrs. Warren, no doubt, has her merits; but she’s ever so rowdy; and my mother simply wouldn’t put up with her. So⁠—hallo! This exclamation is provoked by the reappearance of the clergyman, who comes out of the house in haste and dismay.
Rev. S. Frank: Mrs. Warren and her daughter are coming across the heath with Crofts: I saw them from the study windows. What am I to say about your mother?
Frank Jumping up energetically. Stick on your hat and go out and say how delighted you are to see them; and that Frank’s in the garden; and that mother and Bessie have been called to the bedside of a sick relative, and were ever so sorry they couldn’t stop; and that you hope Mrs. Warren slept well; and⁠—and⁠—say any blessed thing except the truth, and leave the rest to Providence.
Rev. S. But how are we to get rid of them afterwards?
Frank There’s no time to think of that now. Here! He bounds into the porch and returns immediately with a clerical felt hat, which he claps on his father’s head. Now: off with you. Rushing him through the gate. Praed and I’ll wait here, to give the thing an unpremeditated air. The clergyman*, dazed but obedient, hurries off through the gate. Praed* gets up from the turf, and dusts himself.
Frank We must get that old lady back to town somehow, Praed. Come! honestly, dear Praddy, do you like seeing them together⁠—Vivie and the old lady?
Praed Oh, why not?
Frank His teeth on edge. Don’t it make your flesh creep ever so little?⁠—that wicked old devil, up to every villainy under the sun, I’ll swear, and Vivie⁠—ugh!
Praed Hush, pray. They’re coming. The clergyman* and Crofts are seen coming along the road, followed by Mrs. Warren and Vivie* walking affectionately together.
Frank Look: she actually has her arm round the old woman’s waist. It’s her right arm: she began it. She’s gone sentimental, by God. Ugh! ugh! Now do you feel the creeps? The clergyman* opens the gate: and Mrs. Warren and Vivie pass him and stand in the middle of the garden looking at the house. Frank, in an ecstasy of dissimulation, turns gaily to Mrs. Warren*, exclaiming: Ever so delighted to see you, Mrs. Warren. This quiet old rectory garden becomes you perfectly.
Mrs. Warren Well, I never! Did you hear that, George? He says I look well in a quiet old rectory garden.
Rev. S. Still holding the gate for Crofts, who loafs through it, heavily bored. You look well everywhere, Mrs. Warren.
Frank Bravo, gov’nor! Now look here: let’s have an awful jolly time of it before lunch. First let’s see the church. Everyone has to do that. It’s a regular old thirteenth century church, you know: the gov’nor’s ever so fond of it, because he got up a restoration fund and had it completely rebuilt six years ago. Praed will be able to show its points.
Rev. S. Mooning hospitably at them. I shall be pleased, I’m sure, if Sir George and Mrs. Warren really care about it.
Mrs. Warren Oh, come along and get it over. It’ll do George good: I’ll lay he doesn’t trouble church much.
Crofts Turning back toward the gate. I’ve no objection.
Rev. S. Not that way. We go through the fields, if you don’t mind. Round here. He leads the way by the little path through the box hedge.
Crofts Oh, all right. He goes with the parson. Praed follows with Mrs. Warren. Vivie does not stir: she watches them until they have gone, with all the lines of purpose in her face marking it strongly.
Frank Ain’t you coming?
Vivie No. I want to give you a warning, Frank. You were making fun of my mother just now when you said that about the rectory garden. That is barred in the future. Please treat my mother with as much respect as you treat your own.
Frank My dear Viv: she wouldn’t appreciate it. She’s not like my mother: the same treatment wouldn’t do for both cases. But what on earth has happened to you? Last night we were perfectly agreed as to your mother and her set. This morning I find you attitudinizing sentimentally with your arm around your parent’s waist.
Vivie Flushing. Attitudinizing!
Frank That was how it struck me. First time I ever saw you do a second-rate thing.
Vivie Controlling herself. Yes, Frank: there has been a change; but I don’t think it a change for the worse. Yesterday I was a little prig.
Frank And today?
Vivie Wincing; then looking at him steadily. Today I know my mother better than you do.
Frank Heaven forbid!
Vivie What do you mean?
Frank Viv: there’s a freemasonry among thoroughly immoral people that you know nothing of. You’ve too much character. That’s the bond between your mother and me: that’s why I know her better than you’ll ever know her.
Vivie You are wrong: you know nothing about her. If you knew the circumstances against which my mother had to struggle⁠—
Frank Adroitly finishing the sentence for her. I should know why she is what she is, shouldn’t I? What difference would that make? Circumstances or no circumstances, Viv, you won’t be able to stand your mother.
Vivie Very angry. Why not?
Frank Because she’s an old wretch, Viv. If you ever put your arm around her waist in my presence again, I’ll shoot myself there and then as a protest against an exhibition which revolts me.
Vivie Must I choose between dropping your acquaintance and dropping my mother’s?
Frank Gracefully. That would put the old lady at ever such a disadvantage. No, Viv: your infatuated little boy will have to stick to you in any case. But he’s all the more anxious that you shouldn’t make mistakes. It’s no use, Viv: your mother’s impossible. She may be a good sort; but she’s a bad lot, a very bad lot.
Vivie Hotly. Frank⁠—! He stands his ground. She turns away and sits down on the bench under the yew tree, struggling to recover her self-command. Then she says: Is she to be deserted by the world because she’s what you call a bad lot? Has she no right to live?
Frank No fear of that, Viv: she won’t ever be deserted. He sits on the bench beside her.
Vivie But I am to desert her, I suppose.
Frank Babyishly, lulling her and making love to her with his voice. Mustn’t go live with her. Little family group of mother and daughter wouldn’t be a success. Spoil our little group.
Vivie Falling under the spell. What little group?
Frank The babes in the wood: Vivie and little Frank. He nestles against her like a weary child. Let’s go and get covered up with leaves.
Vivie Rhythmically, rocking him like a nurse. Fast asleep, hand in hand, under the trees.
Frank The wise little girl with her silly little boy.
Vivie The dear little boy with his dowdy little girl.
Frank Ever so peaceful, and relieved from the imbecility of the little boy’s father and the questionableness of the little girl’s⁠—
Vivie Smothering the word against her breast. Sh‑sh‑sh‑sh! little girl wants to forget all about her mother. They are silent for some moments, rocking one another. Then Vivie wakes up with a shock, exclaiming: What a pair of fools we are! Come: sit up. Gracious! your hair. She smooths it. I wonder do all grown up people play in that childish way when nobody is looking. I never did it when I was a child.
Frank Neither did I. You are my first playmate. He catches her hand to kiss it, but checks himself to look round first. Very unexpectedly he sees Crofts emerging from the box hedge. Oh, damn!
Vivie Why damn, dear?
Frank Whispering. Sh! Here’s this brute Crofts. He sits farther away from her with an unconcerned air.
Vivie Don’t be rude to him, Frank. I particularly wish to be polite to him. It will please my mother. Frank makes a wry face.
Crofts Could I have a few words with you, Miss Vivie?
Vivie Certainly.
Crofts To Frank. You’ll excuse me, Gardner. They’re waiting for you in the church, if you don’t mind.
Frank Rising. Anything to oblige you, Crofts⁠—except church. If you want anything, Vivie, ring the gate bell, and a domestic will appear. He goes into the house with unruffled suavity.
Crofts Watching him with a crafty air as he disappears, and speaking to Vivie with an assumption of being on privileged terms with her. Pleasant young fellow that, Miss Vivie. Pity he has no money, isn’t it?
Vivie Do you think so?
Crofts Well, what’s he to do? No profession, no property. What’s he good for?
Vivie I realize his disadvantages, Sir George.
Crofts A little taken aback at being so precisely interpreted. Oh, it’s not that. But while we’re in this world we’re in it; and money’s money. Vivie does not answer. Nice day, isn’t it?
Vivie With scarcely veiled contempt for this effort at conversation. Very.
Crofts With brutal good humor, as if he liked her pluck. Well, that’s not what I came to say. Affecting frankness. Now listen, Miss Vivie. I’m quite aware that I’m not a young lady’s man.
Vivie Indeed, Sir George?
Crofts No; and to tell you the honest truth, I don’t want to be either. But when I say a thing I mean it; when I feel sentiment I feel it in earnest; and what I value I pay hard money for. That’s the sort of man I am.
Vivie It does you great credit, I’m sure.
Crofts Oh, I don’t mean to praise myself. I have my faults, Heaven knows: no man is more sensible of that than I am. I know I’m not perfect: that’s one of the advantages of being a middle-aged man; for I’m not a young man, and I know it. But my code is a simple one, and, I think, a good one. Honor between man and man; fidelity between man and woman; and no cant about this religion or that religion, but an honest belief that things are making for good on the whole.
Vivie With biting irony. “A power, not ourselves, that makes for righteousness,” eh?
Crofts Taking her seriously. Oh, certainly, not ourselves, of course. You understand what I mean. He sits down beside her, as one who has found a kindred spirit. Well, now as to practical matters. You may have an idea that I’ve flung my money about; but I haven’t: I’m richer today than when I first came into the property. I’ve used my knowledge of the world to invest my money in ways that other men have overlooked; and whatever else I may be, I’m a safe man from the money point of view.
Vivie It’s very kind of you to tell me all this.
Crofts Oh well, come, Miss Vivie: you needn’t pretend you don’t see what I’m driving at. I want to settle down with a Lady Crofts. I suppose you think me very blunt, eh?