by Peter Barnes
Fraser grabs him as he lurches forward. The Earl whispers to Dinsdale who helps Fraser pick Tucker up. As they carry him out, stiff and horizontal upstage he starts bawling:
Tucker ‘Then comrades come rally. And the last fight let us face. The International Army, Unites the human race.’ (Passing Grace he tips his hat.) ‘I’m only a strolling vagabond, so good night, pretty maiden, good night.’
Grace What an exit.
Brockett Sorry you heard all that, Your Ladyship, but I had to let him rave on. The more they talk, the more they convict themselves.
Grace At least, Inspector, this destroys any doubts anyone might have had about Jack.
Brockett Of course, My Lady.
Sir Charles Good work, Inspector. Let me show you out.
Brockett (to the Earl) My Lord, I’d just like to say what a pleasure it’s been meeting you. It couldn’t ’ave been easy. But you realised I was only doing my job. You’ve shown me what ‘noblesse oblige’ really means.
He gives a slight bow and exits, with Sir Charles.
Bishop Lampton (looking down at the outline) She was beautiful as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, the darling of her mother, flawless to her that loved her. Dead now. Gone, down, down, down, down.
Earl of Gurney Up, up, up, up, she flies. Her soul flies up. Surely you believe she’s gone to another place to enjoy even greater privileges than she had on earth?
Bishop Lampton I have to. I’m a bishop. Forgive an old man’s wavering. I remember her fondly, such a terrible death.
Earl of Gurney Lean on me. Trust God’s judgment.
Bishop Lampton You make an old man ashamed. You’ve become a great source of strength to me, Jack. (Grasps his arm.) I won’t forget what you’ve done, Jack. You were the instrument that restored my faith. I feel reborn. I’ve found the way. Now let me walk humbly with my God.
The Earl walks with him upstage, then hands him to Grace and the two exit.
Scene Eight
The Earl takes out a pair of binoculars from the desk as cries are heard off.
Tucker’s Voice (hysterical) I done nothing! I want justice!
Brockett’s Voice Justice is what you’re going to get, Tucker. If he gives you any trouble, Fraser, break his arm. Now, MARCH!
Tucker’s Voice I’m another Dreyfus case!
The Earl leans on his cane and looks out of the French windows through the binoculars.
Earl of Gurney Left-right, left-right, left-right, left-right, left-right.
Dr Herder, tired and sick, enters with the aid of a walking stick. He stares at the Earl, crosses, and stops beside Claire’s outline on the floor.
Dr Herder Mir ist es winterlich im Leibe. She was cut up like meat.
Earl of Gurney Left-right, left-right, left-right.
Dr Herder (looks across at Earl) It’s not possible. I cured you. You could never turn violent. It’s not in your illness. If I’d failed I’d know it. You’d retreat back into delusion. You haven’t. You’ve accepted the world on its own terms. You believe more or less what other people believe.
Earl of Gurney (turns, raising cane in salute) En garde. Your job’s done, Herr Doktor. I’m adjusted to my environment. I brush my teeth twice daily. And smile. You trepanned me, opened my brain, telephoned the truth direct into my skull, as it were.
Dr Herder Let me be the judge of that.
Earl of Gurney There’s only one Judge here. (Looks at him through the wrong end of the binoculars.) You’ve shrunk to a teutonic midget.
Dr Herder You call that being adjusted?
Earl of Gurney Behaviour which would be considered insanity in a tradesman is looked on as mild eccentricity in a lord. I’m allowed a certain lat-i-tude.
He lunges at Dr Herder.
Dr Herder (involuntarily parrying stroke with his stick) I want to know about Claire.
Earl of Gurney An irreversible rearrangement of her structural molecules has taken place, Doctor. She’s dead. One of the facts of life.
Dr Herder I know that.
Earl of Gurney She lies stinking. Algo mortis, rigor mortis, livor mortis. She’s turning to slime, Doctor. She’s puss, Doctor, stinking puss, Doctor!
Dr Herder I don’t wish to know that!
Earl of Gurney Then kindly leave the stage. (Lunges.) These are scientific facts.
Dr Herder (parrying) You killed her.
Earl of Gurney A touch.
Dr Herder You killed heeeeeeeeer.
He leaps at the Earl, flailing wildly with his stick.
Earl of Gurney (parrying the stroke) Ha, a swordsman worthy of me steel. Didn’t we meet at Heidelberg?
Dr Herder You killed her!
Earl of Gurney (driving him back) You were fornicating lovers. Sperm dancers.
Dr Herder It’s a lie. Lady Claire meant nothing to me.
Earl of Gurney Cock-a-doodle-do!
Dr Herder (lashes out) You killed her.
Earl of Gurney (beating off the attack) I’m cured, Herr Doktor, M.D., Ph.D. You cured me. I was a pale lovesick straw-in-the-air moon-looney. You changed me into a murderer, is that what you’re saying?
Dr Herder (attacking wildly) Yes. No. Yes. May God forgive me.
Earl of Gurney Never. What proof have you?
Dr Herder I don’t need proof, I know.
Earl of Gurney (parrying with contemptuous ease) Physician heal thyself. Don’t you recognise the symptoms? You suddenly know against all the evidence. You don’t need proof from anybody or anything. This monstrous belief of yours that I’m guilty is a clear case of paranoia. I’ve heard of ‘transference’, Doctor, but this is ridiculous! . . . If they ask about me at the trial, tell them the truth.
Dr Herder What truth?
Earl of Gurney That I’m a hundred per cent normal.
He lunges and hits Dr Herder, who sits with a bump.
Earl of Gurney Touché, Herr Doktor.
Clicking his heels, he salutes with his cane and crosses upstage right. Dr Herder remains on the floor. The lights dim slightly as he punches the ground in frustration.
Dr Herder He’s right. He is normal. It’s only a feeling. (Shudders.) I can’t rely on feelings. Everything he’s done conforms to a classic recovery pattern. His occasional paralalia is normal. Even his trying to blackmail me into saying he’s completely normal, is normal. Natural I should have doubts. This is pioneer work. Claire’s death, one of those terrible ironies – nothing to do with the case. Unpleasant as he is, the good lord’s himself again . . . My head’s splitting. I’ve had an abdomen full of the upper classes. Claire, Claire, I should have specialised in heart diseases. (Suddenly trembling with rage.) Cock-a-doodle-do. Scheisshund! He made me deny you. (He picks up and clasps cardboard outline tenderly.) Cock-a-doodle-do. Cock-a-doodle-do. Cock-a-doodle-do.
He exits crowing with the cardboard outline.
Scene Nine
Sir Charles and Grace enter upstage centre.
Sir Charles There. It’s what I’ve always said. You simply can’t give the working class money.
Grace (to the Earl) It must have been a terrible shock for you, Sweet. Someone like Jeeves – someone you’ve known all your life turning out to be a killer. I was proud of you.
Sir Charles Yes, Jack, this time you behaved like a Gurney should.
Grace You might apologise for all the stinking things you’ve said about him.
Sir Charles Jack understands. I did what I had to.
Earl of Gurney I won’t forget what you did, Charles. (Arm round Grace’s shoulder.) Or you, my dear.
Grace Jack, let’s take off. It’s been hell here. We need a holiday.
Earl of Gurney No. Here I stand. Now our little local difficulty has been solved I must show myself. It’ll be the perfect storybook ending.
Dinsdale enters carrying the Earl’s parliamentary robes.
Earl of Gurney I’m taking my seat in the House of Lords.
Sir Charles What . . . ?
Grace What, now? So soon after your illn
ess? I mean, are you ready for them?
Earl of Gurney Are they ready for me, madam?
Dinsdale Gurney We’re going to work as a team once I get elected. Jack in the Lords, me in the ‘other place’. We think alike on lots of things.
He helps the Earl on with his parliamentary robes.
Sir Charles It’s asking for trouble. What happens if you have a relapse? Fine spectacle you’d make, gibbering in the Upper House.
Grace You’re so bloody tactful, Charles. (Helps Dinsdale.) If Jack thinks he’s ready, then he’s ready and I’m with him all the way.
Sir Charles It’s out of the question.
Earl of Gurney Who asked you a question, pray? Did anybody here ask him a question?
They shake their heads.
Nobody asked a question so I’ll ask a question. Who’s the legit head of the family Gurney-cum-Gurney?
Sir Charles You are, Jack, but . . .
Earl of Gurney Don’t let me hear you answering unasked questions again.
Dinsdale Gurney Don’t make a complete ass of yourself, Father.
Grace From now on just keep quiet, Charles.
Earl of Gurney Your days of hard manipulating are over. Your brain’s silting, Charles!
Sir Charles starts to grow old, his limbs shake slightly.
Sir Charles Don’t talk to me like that! After all I’ve done. (Voice quavers.) Where’d you be without me? No wife, no Gurney heir without me – answer me, sir! (Passes hands over hair and moustache: they turn white.) I’m giving you the benefit of my experience, years of . . .
Dinsdale sniggers.
Sir Charles What are you sniggering at, you young pup?
Dinsdale Gurney I wasn’t sniggering.
Sir Charles You were sniggering too. I know sniggering when I hear it, I’m not deaf. You’ve got nothing to snigger about. It’ll happen to you one day. You’ll be standing there and then suddenly nobody’s taking any notice. You start coughing and coughing. Skin goes dry and the veins show through. Everything turns watery. It dribbles away, bowels, eyes, ears, nose . . . hmm. The hard thing is you’re still twenty-one inside, but outside your feet go flop, flop, flop, flop, nothing you can do, flop, flop, flop . . .
The Earl points to Sir Charles. Dinsdale nods and leads him firmly upstage.
Dinsdale Gurney That’s enough, Father. You’ve had a long innings. It’s beddy-byes and milk-rusks for you now.
Grace (carefully adjusting the Earl’s robe) He’s getting tiresome, but I feel obligated. He did introduce us, honey. Luckily Dinsdale can handle him. That boy’s come on. He worships you, you know.
Earl of Gurney Splendid fella, Dinsdale.
Grace Guess we’ve all changed. You’re more than just cured, Jack. People look up to you now. You’ve got something extra. What we used to call star quality!
Earl of Gurney Ek, ek, ek, ek. It’s going to be a triumphant climax.
Grace Talking about climaxes, we must get together again. We were more loving when you were batty. (Closer to him.) Now it should be even better. Do you love me, Jack?
Earl of Gurney Y’know, in Roman times it was always the women who turned down their thumbs when defeated gladiators asked for mercy, Annie.
Grace (laughing) Annie? Why Annie?
Earl of Gurney Mary, Annie, Elizabeth, Catherine, Marie Kelly – a name by any other name would smell as sweet.
Grace Jack, you’re not going off again?
Earl of Gurney It’s nothing m’dear. Don’t forget I’ve a big day ahead of me. I’m speaking in the House of Lords.
Grace Oh, you’ve got first-night nerves. Don’t worry, you’ll kill ’em.
Earl of Gurney In time. Perhaps.
Grace I know it. Then you’ll get around to me, I hope. Promise?
The Earl nods, smiling.
Grace Jack, Jack, you’re so attractive when you smile like that. (Kisses him.) Jack, Jack . . .
Earl of Gurney Must get my grunch thoughts in order, marshal my facts, prepare my argument, pro and contra.
Grace You don’t have to worry. After all, you’re one of ’em, only more so. Be your own sweet self and they’ll adore you as I adore you, Jack. (Kissing him again and moving upstage.) I just love happy endings.
The lights dim. The ‘Pomp and Circumstance’ march is played softly over.
Scene Ten
The image of the Earl in his parliamentary robes downstage centre is menacing as he hunches his shoulder and drags his leg.
Earl of Gurney Tash t’ur tshh t’aigh, s’ssssh kkk? Freee ’eee u Me Me Me epeeeeee . . . tita a-a-a grahhh serk Khraht! (Sounds now coming from back of throat, rising intensely.) Grak GRACK. Graaa gruuuuuuaaKK ka-ka-ka-ka-ka. YU. OOOO. YU.
Arm jerks out convulsively at audience, his leg twists under him.
YU. Screee. Fuuuuuth, CRUUUKK-aa-K.
Grinds heel into ground, face contorted with rage.
HRRRUUUR TRUGHUUUK.
As if bringing up phlegm, the cries now come from the pit of the stomach.
Ha-CH-U-UR-UR. URRR. GoooooaRCH. TROKK! EK-K-Y. Am-Bra-K-Yi-Skiiii, Arrk-ar-rk ARR ARR K-K-K-K, YIT YIT TRUGHUUGH ARK KKKK A-A-A-A-A-A-KRUTK! aaaaaaaaaaaaAAA-ARRRRRR!
Scene Eleven
Even as the scream dies away a backcloth with a blow-up photograph of Westminster captioned ‘House of Lords’ is lowered, stage centre. On either side of it are massive purple drapes. The ‘Pomp and Circumstance’ march is loud now as two tiers of mouldering dummies dressed as Lords and covered with cobwebs are pushed on either side, stage right and left. Smothered in age-old dust, three goitred Lords with bloated stomachs and skull-like faces crawl on stage groaning, to take their places beside the dummies and the Earl of Gurney. One of them drags a skeleton behind him. The music stops as the First Lord hauls himself as upright as his twisted body allows.
First Lord (croaking) My Lords, I wish to draw attention to the grave disquiet felt throughout the country at the increase in immorality.
Second Lord (wheezing) I must support the Noble Lord. For thirteen years there has been no flogging, and there has been a steadily rising volume of crime, lawlessness and thuggery. I believe the cissy treatment of young thugs and hooligans is utterly wrong.
Third Lord My Lord, we must step up the penalties by making hanging and flogging the punishments for certain State crimes. In order to protect the public the criminal must be treated as an animal.
The Earl of Gurney jerks up. All eyes on him. Dinsdale and Sir Charles, hobbling on two walking sticks, enter wings left.
Earl of Gurney My Lords, I had doubts about speaking here but after what I’ve heard, I realise this is where I belong. My Lords, these are grave times, killing times. Stars collapse, universes shrink daily, but the natural order is still crime – guilt – punishment. Without pause. There is no love without fear. By His hand, sword, pike and grappling-hook, God, the Crowbar of the World, flays, stabs, bludgeons, mutilates. Just as I was – is – have been – flayed, bludgeoned . . . (Recovering.) You’ve forgotten how to punish, my Noble Lords. The strong must manipulate the weak. That’s the first law of the universe – was and ever shall be world without end. The weak would hand this planet back to the crabs and primeval slime. The Hard survive, the Soft quickly turn to corruption. (Shuddering.) God the Son wants nothing only to give freely in love and gentleness. It’s loathsome, a foul perversion of life! And must be rooted out. God the Father demands, orders, controls, crushes. We must follow Him, my Noble Lords. This is a call to greatness . . . On, on you noblest English.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips
Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot
Follow your spirit; and upon this charge
Cry, God for Jack, England and Saint George.
A pause, then all burst into spontaneous shouts of ‘Hear-hear’, ‘Bravo’, as the excited Peers, waving order papers, stumble over to congratulate the Earl.
Dinsdale Gurney Bravo! Bravo! You see, Father, you see. He’s capable of anything!<
br />
Sir Charles (waving stick excitedly) He’s one of us at last!
They all exit except the Earl, singing exultantly.
All (singing)
‘Let us now praise famous men
And our fathers that begat us.
Such as did there rule in their kingdoms
Men renowned for their power.’
Epilogue
The Earl is alone among the dummies. The chorus fades down with the lights. Grace enters upstage centre in a black nightdress, singing,
Grace (singing)
‘Along came Jack, not my type at all . . .
You’d meet him on the street and never notice him . . .
But his form and face, his manly grace.
Makes me – thrill . . . I love him . . . ’
He stands smiling as she circles him sensually.
‘I love him, because he’s . . . wond-er-ful . . . ’
She yields as he pulls her close.
‘Because he’s just my Jack.’
Faint street cries are heard over and they kiss passionately. As the Earl envelops her in his parliamentary robes, his hand reaches for his pocket. The lights fade down slowly, then, out of the darkness, a single scream of fear and agony.
Curtain.
Bloomsbury Methuen Drama
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This electronic edition published in 2015 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
First published in Barnes Collected Plays
by Heinemann Educational Books Ltd in 1981
Reissued as Peter Barnes Plays 1 by Methuen Drama
in the Contemporary Dramatists series in 1989
Published as a single play edition in 2015
© Peter Barnes 1969, 1981, 1989, 2015
Peter Barnes has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
