An Inspector Calls and Other Plays

by J. B. Priestley

  ORMUND: Well, what are we all doing here?

  SALLY: No, that’s different, Mr Ormund. Why should he come here looking for you?

  ORMUND [puzzled]: For me?

  SALLY: No, for you three.

  [This linking of the three of them together – for the first time – has its immediate effect, as if it chimed with some deep obscure feeling each of them knew. There is a pause, before SALLY resumes.]

  He comes here – looking about him – and when I tell him we’ve no room to spare because I’m expecting three visitors – he looks at me and asks if two of ’em are a married couple with the man older than his wife, and the other a younger man. And when I say No, we’re expecting three ladies from Manchester, he seems disappointed and says something about it being the wrong year. So off he goes, and then the three ladies say they can’t come, and you ring up for rooms, and when he comes back, there’s a room for him too, and you’re all here, and it’s just what he expected.

  ORMUND: Oh – he was looking for somebody, and then gave it up.

  SALLY: And then upsetting you like that! He makes me feel right uneasy. [Short pause.] Nothing more you’ll be wanting, Mrs Ormund?

  JANET: No, thank you, Mrs Pratt. Good night.

  SALLY: Good night.

  [The two men say good night as she goes. ORMUND takes some papers from his dispatch-case, preparing to work. FARRANT is going back to his book.]

  JANET [who has obviously been thinking about it all]: How could he have been looking for us?

  ORMUND [busy with his papers]: He couldn’t.

  FARRANT [looking up, in light easy tone]: The arrival of a mysterious foreigner, plus a coincidence, has obviously been too much tonight for poor Mrs Pratt. And Görtler’s prophetic manner has only made it worse.

  ORMUND: Yes, he rather asks for it.

  JANET [after thinking for a few moments]: Well, I’m tired, Walter. [Moving towards door.] Your room’s the far one.

  FARRANT [casually]: I thought I’d met him before somewhere.

  [The clock chimes.]

  JANET [turning, sharply at door]: You did! Where?

  FARRANT: That’s the trouble. Can’t remember.

  JANET [tentatively]: Has it … worried you?

  FARRANT [slightly surprised]: Yes … a little. Why?

  JANET: I … wondered. [Pause, then coming forward.] Walter, will you stop working just one minute –?

  ORMUND [looking up from his work, first at JANET, then at FARRANT, then back to JANET, coolly and humorously]: You want me to tell you all about it? Quite simple. We’re all three a bit off our heads. Farrant says he’s been overworking and the doctor sent him away. I’ve been half-dotty for years. And as for you, Janet, you’re just a young woman, always ready to have your fortune told and your horoscope read, always longing for marvels and miracles, not even wanting to be sane.

  JANET [with a smile]: Yes, that’s quite simple – and quite silly. [Moves.] Good night.

  [She is now in doorway; the two men stand up and say good night. She looks at them a moment, then nods and goes. ORMUND sits down again to resume work, but FARRANT remains standing.]

  FARRANT [after a pause]: Ormund – I hope – you’ll let me talk to you about the school sometime.

  ORMUND: Yes, of course. Not now, though, not now.

  FARRANT [after another pause, with touch of nervous diffidence]: I’m – rather worried – [Pauses, and ORMUND looks at him.] I feel – I haven’t – somehow – created a very good first impression.

  ORMUND: On me – or on my wife?

  FARRANT: On both of you.

  ORMUND: I don’t think you have, altogether.

  FARRANT: Do you mind – telling me why?

  ORMUND: My dear chap, I honestly haven’t the least idea. So let’s forget it. [Breaking it off] What’s your book?

  FARRANT: New Pathways in Science. You might like to look at it afterwards. It answers a lot of questions that have been puzzling me.

  ORMUND [easily, but with an undercurrent of despair]: Yes, but does it answer the questions that have been puzzling me? Who or what are we? What are we supposed to be doing here? What the devil is it all about?

  FARRANT: I’m afraid it doesn’t.

  ORMUND: I thought not. Turning in?

  FARRANT [as he goes]: Yes, I think so. Good night.

  ORMUND [back at his work]: Good night.

  [ORMUND tries to settle down to his work but cannot concentrate and looks as if some despairing thought is haunting him. He looks queerly at the wall in front of him, the one he can’t see. He rises slowly, and in his distress he snaps the fountain-pen he is holding in two, and as he looks down at the broken pen, the curtain falls.]

  END OF ACT ONE

  Act Two

  Scene as before. Saturday evening. Still daylight, but though the light is still good, it is that of a clear twilight. ORMUND is discovered sitting at the bureau in the window, smoking and doing some work, making notes and calculations. After a moment or two, SAM enters with a tray with bottle of whisky, syphon and glass. ORMUND looks up.

  ORMUND: Sam, you have the noble instincts of a good landlord. Thank you.

  SAM [as he puts tray on centre table]: Well, t’bar’s still pretty full and I thought you’d like it handy in here.

  ORMUND [going up to the table]: Quite right. [Takes up bottle.] But not much in this bottle, Sam.

  SAM [with a grin]: It’s one you started on at tea-time, Mr Ormund.

  ORMUND: Then I must have had a very good tea.

  SAM [grinning]: Ay, you didn’t do bad.

  ORMUND: It looks to me, Sam, as if I drink too much.

  SAM: Well, that’s not for me to say, Mr Ormund –

  ORMUND: Never mind, Sam, say it, say it.

  SAM: I haven’t seen monny as could shift it better.

  ORMUND: Nor carry it better. Admit that, Sam.

  SAM: I do, Mr Ormund. There’s one or two as comes here – owd Joe Watson, farmer down t’dale, for one – who’s got a head on ’em for liquor, but – by gow! – I’d back you, Mr Ormund, against best of ’em. You’d have ’em under table i’ no time.

  ORMUND: Yes, Sam, and sometimes it’s useful to have ’em under table. But it won’t do. If I ask for another bottle tonight, remind me that I drink too much. [He returns to the bureau.]

  SAM: You’ve had your supper, haven’t you, Mr Ormund?

  ORMUND: Yes. Had it with Dr Görtler. We got tired of waiting for the other two.

  SAM [going to the door]: Ay, they’re making a long day of it. Let’s hope they haven’t got lost.

  ORMUND: Not much chance of that, is there?

  SAM: No, not on these light nights. It’s easy enough i’ winter, if you stop too long on t’moors. I’ve known a few daftheads that did. But don’t you worry. Mr Farrant’s a good head on his shoulders.

  ORMUND: I don’t think my wife’s with Mr Farrant. They went out separately.

  SAM: Oh – well – happen she’s gone a few mile farther than she thought. But she’ll be all right, Mr Ormund.

  [DR GÖRTLER has come in now. SAM takes empty tray and goes.]

  ORMUND [after pause]: Have a drink, Dr Görtler?

  DR GÖRTLER: No, thank you.

  ORMUND [indifferently]: Don’t like too much drinking, eh?

  DR GÖRTLER [coolly, not priggishly]: It is a kind of escape, and I do not need it. I am not afraid.

  ORMUND [with more attention]: Not afraid of what?

  DR GÖRTLER: I am not afraid of thinking, of reality.

  ORMUND [considering him, after pause]: I wonder what you think you’re doing here.

  DR GÖRTLER [with a smile]: I am asking questions. [A pause.] This drinking, it is an escape – from what?

  ORMUND [really dodging the question]: Well – as you see – not from responsibility – and work.

  DR GÖRTLER: No, I think you work very hard.

  ORMUND: I work like hell.

  DR GÖRTLER: And that too is a kind of escape.

  O
RMUND [not liking this]: Is it? But don’t forget, my dear professor, I’ve great responsibilities. Even these people here – and their precious boy – would be badly let down if I failed ’em. I have to keep on.

  DR GÖRTLER: No, you give yourself these tasks so that you must keep on. You dare not stop.

  ORMUND [with an effort]: All right. I dare not stop. [Turns to his notes and looks as if he wanted to be done with this talk, yet cannot bring himself to break it off definitely. A pause.]

  DR GÖRTLER [with a shade of irony]: And yet – you are rich.

  ORMUND [turning]: Have you ever been rich, Dr Görtler, or lived among the rich?

  DR GÖRTLER [who has his own irony]: No, I have only been poor, and lived among the poor. But that is quite an experience, too.

  ORMUND: I’ve no illusions about that. But being rich isn’t simply the opposite of being poor. It’s not really worth much – being rich. Half the time there’s a thick glass wall between you and most of the fun and friendliness of the world. There’s something devilishly dull about most of the rich. Too much money seems to take the taste and colour out of things. It oughtn’t to do, but it does – damn it!

  DR GÖRTLER: But power – you have that, haven’t you?

  ORMUND: Yes, and that’s a very different thing.

  DR GÖRTLER: Ah! – you like power.

  ORMUND: Well, you get some fun out of it. I don’t mean bullying a lot of poor devils. But putting ideas into action. And not being at the end of somebody else’s bit of string.

  DR GÖRTLER: And yet that is what you always feel, and that is why you try to escape.

  ORMUND [sharply]: What do you mean?

  DR GÖRTLER: That you are – as you say – at the end of a bit of string.

  ORMUND [as he rises and moves]: Nonsense! Do I look like – a puppet?

  DR GÖRTLER [calmly]: No. But I say you feel like one. [Pauses, then with calm force] You are rich. You are successful. You have power. Yet all the time you try to escape, because deep down you feel that your part in this life is settled for you and that it is a tragic one. So all the time you are in despair. [As ORMUND does not reply.] Is that not true?

  ORMUND [half-wondering and half-angry as he crosses to the sofa]: Yes – damn your impudence – it is.

  DR GÖRTLER [pressing him]: Now please tell me why you – who have so much – should feel this despair.

  ORMUND [after a pause, turning, speaking more freely than before]: I suppose – in the last resort – you trust life – or you don’t. Well – I don’t. There’s something malicious … corrupt … cruel … at the heart of it. Nothing’s on our side. We don’t belong. We’re a mistake.

  DR GÖRTLER: But you have known – good things?

  ORMUND [looking down now at the sitting GÖRTLER]: Yes. When you’re young, you snatch at ’em and then find they’re bait in a trap. Cheese for the mice. One nibble, you’re caught and the wires are boring through your guts. I can feel ’em there.

  DR GÖRTLER: No. It is something in yourself, something that hates life.

  ORMUND: All right, it’s something in me. [Almost muttering] Something that’s waiting to blot out the whole bloody business. [Moves restlessly, then finally speaks with more freedom, coming nearer and then sitting at the table across from DR GÖRTLER.] Görtler – when I was a boy I watched my mother die – of cancer. For two years she was tortured … she might as well have been put on the rack and broken on the wheel … and when she couldn’t suffer any longer … when there was nothing left to feel any more devilish bloody torment … she was allowed to escape, to die. You see, there wasn’t any more fun to be had out of her. Let her go.

  DR GÖRTLER: Yes, that was bad. But did she complain?

  ORMUND: No, she didn’t complain much. She was a very brave woman. I remember – when she could bear it no longer and screamed in the night, she’d apologize next morning. [With terrible irony] She was sorry if she’d disturbed us, Görtler, she was sorry if she’d disturbed us…. [Pause.] No, she didn’t complain – but – by God! – I complain.

  DR GÖRTLER: Yes, I understand. [Pause.] You feel too much and do not know enough.

  ORMUND [grimly]: I know too much.

  DR GÖRTLER: No. You are like a child who thinks because it rains one morning, he will never play out of doors again. You believe we have only this one existence?

  ORMUND: Of course.

  DR GÖRTLER [with irony]: Of course. We all know that now. It is so obvious. But what a pity – if we are brutes that perish – we have not the dim feelings of brutes that perish. To have this one short existence and to spend it being tortured by cancer – to be given delicate nerves and consciousness only to feel pain – that would be a terrible cruelty. It would be better that nobody should be born at all.

  ORMUND: I’ve thought so many a time.

  DR GÖRTLER: Because you do not understand the long drama of the soul. To suffer like that, then to die young, that is not easy nor pleasant, but it is a role, a part – like any other brief appearance here –

  ORMUND [harshly, as he moves away restlessly]: I’m sorry, Doctor. That may mean something to you. It means nothing to me. Just so many fine useless words.

  DR GÖRTLER [with authority and dignity]: You will please remember, Mr Ormund, that all my life I have been a man of science, and then a philosopher. I am not a political orator. My fine words mean something. [Pauses.] You were in the War?

  [SALLY enters, hears them speaking, goes out quickly.]

  ORMUND [moving]: Yes. I went all through it. My brother was killed. And before the lunacy stopped, I’d found half a dozen fellows who were nearly as good as brothers, but they never lasted long…. I came out of it to find the whole world limping on one foot and with a hole in its head…. Most of us are really half-crazy. I know I am.

  DR GÖRTLER: But when you began to forget about the War, things were better, eh?

  ORMUND: No. I didn’t forget, and things were worse. They were very bad indeed – when – I met my wife, Janet. Then things looked different for a time – [Breaks off, then resumes in more normal tone] Well, that’s how it’s been. Not very cheerful. But I don’t suppose you’ve had a rollicking time.

  DR GÖRTLER [quietly and with great dignity]: I lost my only son in the War – a young boy. I saw all my family and friends ruined by the economic collapse of Germany. I think it was the worry, the shame, of that period which killed my wife. And now I have seen my pupils taken away from me, and have been turned out of my university and out of my country.

  ORMUND: I’m sorry, Dr Görtler.

  DR GÖRTLER: Yet I do not hate life. I accept it all. Because you see – there is no traitor – here – [He touches his chest.]

  ORMUND: You think there is – in me?

  DR GÖRTLER: I do not know. I can only guess.

  ORMUND [after a pause, more freely]: Görtler, I’ll tell you something I’ve never told anybody. All my life, I’ve had a haunted sort of feeling … as if, just round the corner, there’d be a sudden blotting out of everything. During the War I thought it meant I was going to be killed, so I didn’t give a damn what I did and they thought I was a brave fellow and pinned medals on me. But when it was all over, I still had the same feeling. It’s getting stronger all the time.

  DR GÖRTLER: And then, last night, when you arrived here –

  ORMUND: How did you notice that? I didn’t know I gave myself away.

  DR GÖRTLER: What did you feel?

  ORMUND: I felt like a man staring into his grave.

  DR GÖRTLER: When you entered this room?

  ORMUND: Yes, yes.

  DR GÖRTLER: When you saw your bedroom?

  ORMUND [rather impatiently]: Yes, yes.

  DR GÖRTLER: But it was worst in the garage?

  ORMUND [surprised]: The garage? I haven’t been in the garage. Sam put my car away last night and I haven’t looked at it since – [Stops, stares at DR GÖRTLER suspiciously, then with urgency] – how did you know I kept it there?

  DR
GÖRTLER: Where?

  ORMUND: In the car.

  DR GÖRTLER: Kept what in the car?

  ORMUND: My revolver.

  DR GÖRTLER [significantly]: So!

  ORMUND: I keep a revolver in a side pocket of the car. How did you know that?

  DR GÖRTLER: I did not know.

  ORMUND: Then why did you ask me about the garage?

  DR GÖRTLER: I wanted to know what you had felt there, that is all.

  ORMUND [after staring at him a moment, calls]: Sam. Sam.

  DR GÖRTLER: Be careful.

  [SALLY enters.]

  SALLY: Father’s busy in the bar, Mr Ormund. Can I get you anything?

  ORMUND: Is the garage open?

  SALLY: Yes, Mr Ormund, straight across the yard.

  DR GÖRTLER: Do you want me to come with you?

  [SALLY gives them a sharp look. ORMUND goes out to the yard, leaving door ajar. DR GÖRTLER, who has risen, looks anxiously after him. SALLY looks at DR GÖRTLER, curiously and dubiously.]

  SALLY: Oh – Doctor – er – [as he turns] I don’t think you said how long you wanted your room, did you?

  DR GÖRTLER [puzzled by this]: Yes. I said it last night, when I came here.

  SALLY [coldly]: I don’t remember. It wasn’t said to me.

  DR GÖRTLER: I said I wanted it over the week-end. I could not tell, exactly.

  SALLY: Well, folks who come here usually know how long they’re staying.

  DR GÖRTLER: Yes, but I could not say. I have something to do here.

  SALLY [eyeing him]: Something to do?

  DR GÖRTLER [still anxious about ORMUND, not bothering about her]: Yes, yes, something very important.

  SALLY [hostile]: Oh, I see.

  DR GÖRTLER [really attending to her now]: There is no need to talk to me in this way. I have done you no injury. I am quite a harmless person, even though I am a foreigner – and was once a professor.

  SALLY: And so you want to know what’s the matter?

  DR GÖRTLER: Yes, there is evidently something. What have I done?

  SALLY [sturdily]: Well – seeing you’ve asked me, Doctor – er – I’ll tell you. You make me feel uneasy in my mind. That wouldn’t be so bad, but I’ve noticed you’ve a trick of upsetting other people too. And I don’t like it.