Man and Superman and Three Other Plays

by George Bernard Shaw

  VIVIE Mr. Praed: once for all, there is no beauty and no romance in life for me. Life is what it is; and I am prepared to take it as it is.

  PRAED [enthusiastically] You will not say that if you come to Verona and on to Venice. You will cry with delight at living in such a beautiful world.

  FRANK This is most eloquent, Praddy. Keep it up.

  PRAED Oh, I assure you I have cried—I shall cry again, I hope—at fifty! At your age, Miss Warren, you would not need to go so far as Verona. Your spirits would absolutely fly up at the mere sight of Ostend. You would be charmed with the gaiety, the vivacity, the happy air of Brussels. [VIVIE recoils.] What’s the matter ?

  FRANK Hallo, Viv!

  VIVIE [to PRAED with deep reproach] Can you find no better example of your beauty and romance than Brussels to talk to me about?

  PRAED [puzzled] Of course it’s very different from Verona. I don’t suggest for a moment that—

  VIVIE [bitterly] Probably the beauty and romance come to much the same in both places.

  PRAED [completely sobered and much concerned] My dear Miss Warren: I—[looking enquiringly at FRANK] Is anything the matter?

  FRANK She thinks your enthusiasm frivolous, Praddy. She’s had ever such a serious call.

  VIVIE [sharply] Hold your tongue, Frank. Don’t be silly.

  FRANK [calmly] Do you call this good manners, Praed?

  PRAED [anxious and considerate] Shall I take him away, Miss Warren? I feel sure we have disturbed you at your work. [He is about to rise.]

  VIVIE Sit down: I’m not ready to go back to work yet. You both think I have an attack of nerves. Not a bit of it. But there are two subjects I want dropped, if you don’t mind. One of them [to FRANK] is love’s young dream in any shape or form: the other [to PRAED] is the romance and beauty of life, especially as exemplified by the gaiety of Brussels. You are welcome to any illusions you may have left on these subjects: I have none. If we three are to remain friends, I must be treated as a woman of business, permanently single [to FRANK] and permanently unromantic [to PRAED].

  FRANK I also shall remain permanently single until you change your mind. Praddy: change the subject. Be eloquent about something else.

  PRAED [diffidently] I’m afraid there’s nothing else in the world that I can talk about. The Gospel of Art8 is the only one I can preach. I know Miss Warren is a great devotee of the Gospel of Getting On; but we can’t discuss that without hurting your feelings, Frank, since you are determined not to get on.

  FRANK Oh, don’t mind my feelings. Give me some improving advice by all means; it does me ever so much good. Have another try to make a successful man of me, Viv. Come: let’s have it all: energy, thrift, foresight, self-respect, character. Don’t you hate people who have no character, Viv?

  VIVIE [wincing] Oh, stop: stop: let us have no more of that horrible cant. Mr. Praed: if there are really only those two gospels in the world, we had better all kill ourselves; for the same taint is in both, through and through.

  FRANK [looking critically at her] There is a touch of poetry about you to-day, Viv, which has hitherto been lacking.

  PRAED [remonstrating] My dear Frank: aren’t you a little unsympathetic ?

  VIVIE [merciless to herself] No: it’s good for me. It keeps me from being sentimental.

  FRANK [bantering her] Checks your strong natural propensity that way, don’t it?

  VIVIE [almost hysterically] Oh, yes: go on: don’t spare me. I was sentimental for one moment in my life—beautifully sentimental—by moonlight; and now—

  FRANK [quickly] I say, Viv: take care. Don’t give yourself away.

  VIVIE Oh, do you think Mr. Praed does not know all about my mother? [Turning on PRAED.] You had better have told me that morning, Mr. Praed. You are very old-fashioned in your delicacies, after all.

  PRAED Surely it is you who are a little old-fashioned in your prejudices, Miss Warren. I feel bound to tell you, speaking as an artist, and believing that the most intimate human relationships are far beyond and above the scope of the law, that though I know that your mother is an unmarried woman, I do not respect her the less on that account. I respect her more.

  FRANK [airily] Hear, hear!

  VIVIE [staring at him] Is that all you know?

  PRAED Certainly that is all.

  VIVIE Then you neither of you know anything. Your guesses are innocence itself compared to the truth.

  PRAED [startled and indignant, preserving his politeness with an effort] I hope not. [More emphatically.] I hope not, Miss Warren. [FRANK’s face shows that he does not share PRAED’s incredulity. VIVIE utters an exclamation of impatience. PRAED’s chivalry droops before their conviction. He adds, slowly] If there is anything worse—that is, anything else—are you sure you are right to tell us, Miss Warren?

  VIVIE I am sure that if I had the courage I should spend the rest of my life in telling it to everybody—in stamping and branding it into them until they felt their share in its shame and horror as I feel mine. There is nothing I despise more than the wicked convention that protects these things by forbidding a woman to mention them. And yet I can’t tell you. The two infamous words that describe what my mother is are ringing in my ears and struggling on my tongue; but I can’t utter them: my instinct is too strong for me. [She buries her face in her hands. The two men, astonished, stare at one another and then at her. She raises her head again desperately and takes a sheet of paper and a pen.] Here: let me draft you a prospectus.

  FRANK Oh, she’s mad. Do you hear, Viv, mad. Come: pull yourself together.

  VIVIE You shall see. [She writes.] “Paid up capital: not less than £40,000 standing in the name of Sir George Crofts, Baronet, the chief shareholder.” What comes next?—I forget. Oh, yes: “Premises at Brussels, Berlin, Vienna and Buda-Pesth. Managing director: Mrs. Warren;” and now don’t let us forget her qualifications : the two words.u There! [She pushes the paper to them.] Oh, no: don’t read it: don‘t! [She snatches it back and tears it to pieces; then seizes her head in her hands and hides her face on the table. FRANK, who has watched the writing carefully over her shoulder, and opened his eyes very widely at it, takes a card from his pocket; scribbles a couple of words; and silently hands it to PRAED, who looks at it with amazement. FRANK then remorsefully stoops over VIVIE.]

  FRANK [whispering tenderly] Viv, dear: that’s all right. I read what you wrote: so did Praddy. We understand. And we remain, as this leaves us at present, yours ever so devotedly. [VIVIE slowly raises her head.]

  PRAED We do, indeed, Miss Warren. I declare you are the most splendidly courageous woman I ever met. [This sentimental compliment braces VIVIE. She throws it away from her with an impatient shake, and forces herself to stand up, though not without some support from the table.]

  FRANK Don’t stir, Viv, if you don’t want to. Take it easy.

  VIVIE Thank you. You can always depend on me for two things, not to cry and not to faint. [She moves a few steps towards the door of the inner rooms, and stops close to PRAED to say] I shall need much more courage than that when I tell my mother that we have come to the parting of the ways. Now I must go into the next room for a moment to make myself neat again, if you don’t mind.

  PRAED Shall we go away?

  VIVIE No: I’ll be back presently. Only for a moment. [She goes into the other room, PRAED opening the door for her. ]

  PRAED What an amazing revelation! I’m extremely disappointed in Crofts: I am indeed.

  FRANK I’m not in the least. I feel he’s perfectly accounted for at last. But what a facerv for me, Praddy! I can’t marry her now.

  PRAED [sternly] Frank! [The two look at one another, FRANK unruffled, PRAED deeply indignant. Let me tell you, Gardner, that if you desert her now you will behave very despicably.

  FRANK Good old Praddy! Ever chivalrous! But you mistake: it’s not the moral aspect of the case: it’s the money aspect. I really can’t bring myself to touch the old woman’s money now!

  PRAED And was that what you were go
ing to marry on?

  FRANK What else? I haven’t any money, nor the smallest turn for making it. If I married Viv now she would have to support me; and I should cost her more than I am worth.

  PRAED But surely a clever, bright fellow like you can make something by your own brains.

  FRANK Oh, yes, a little. [He takes out his money again.] I made all that yesterday—in an hour and a half. But I made it in a highly speculative business. No, dear Praddy: even if Jessie and Georgina marry millionaires and the governor dies after cutting them off with a shilling, I shall have only four hundred a year. And he won’t die until he’s three score and ten: he hasn’t originality enough.9 I shall be on short allowance for the next twenty years. No short allowance for Viv, if I can help it. I withdraw gracefully and leave the field to the gilded youth of England. So that’s settled. I shan’t worry her about it: I’ll just send her a little note after we’re gone. She’ll understand.

  PRAED [grasping his hand] Good fellow, Frank! I heartily beg your pardon. But must you never see her again?

  FRANK Never see her again! Hang it all, be reasonable. I shall come along as often as possible, and be her brother. I cannot understand the absurd consequences you romantic people expect from the most ordinary transactions. [A knock at the door.] I wonder who this is. Would you mind opening the door? If it’s a client it will look more respectable than if I appeared.

  PRAED Certainly. [He goes to the door and opens it. FRANK sits down in VIVIE’s chair to scribble a note.] My dear Kitty: come in, come in. [MRS. WARREN comes in, looking apprehensively round for VIVIE. She has done her best to make herself matronly and dignified. The brilliant hat is replaced by a sober bonnet, and the gay blouse covered by a costly black silk mantle. She is pitiably anxious and ill at ease—evidently panic-stricken. ]

  MRS. WARREN [to FRANK] What! You’re here, are you?

  FRANK [turning in his chair from his writing, but not rising]w Here, and charmed to see you. You come like a breath of spring.

  MRS. WARREN Oh, get out with your nonsense. [In a low voice.] Where’s Vivie? [FRANK points expressively to the door of the inner room, but says nothing. ]

  MRS. WARREN [sitting down suddenly and almost beginning to cry] Praddy: won’t she see me, don’t you think?

  PRAED My dear Kitty: don’t distress yourself. Why should she not?

  MRS. WARREN Oh, you never can see why not: you’re too amiable. Mr. Frank:x did she say anything to you?

  FRANK [folding his note] She must see you, i f [very expressively] you wait until she comes in.

  MRS. WARREN [frightened] Why shouldn’t I wait? [FRANK looks quizzically at her; puts his note carefully on the ink-bottle, so that VIVIE cannot fail to find it when next she dips her pen; then rises and devotes his attention entirely to her.]

  FRANK My dear Mrs. Warren: suppose you were a sparrow—ever so tiny and pretty a sparrow hopping in the roadway—and you saw a steam roller coming in your direction, would you wait for it?

  MRS. WARREN Oh, don’t bother me with your sparrows. What did she run away from Haslemere like that for?

  FRANK I’m afraid she’ll tell you if you wait until she comes back.

  MRS. WARREN Do you want me to go away?

  FRANK No. I always want you to stay. But I advise you to go away.

  MRS. WARREN What! And never see her again!

  FRANK Precisely.

  MRS. WARREN [crying again] Praddy: don’t let him be cruel to me. [She hastily checks her tears and wipes her eyes.] She’ll be so angry if she sees I’ve been crying.

  FRANK [with a touch of real compassion in his airy tenderness] You know that Praddy is the soul of kindness, Mrs. Warren. Praddy: what do you say? Go or stay?

  PRAED [to MRS. WARREN] I really should be very sorry to cause you unnecessary pain; but I think perhaps you had better not wait. The fact is—[VIVIE is heard at the inner door.]

  FRANK Sh! Too late. She’s coming.

  MRS. WARREN Don’t tell her I was crying. [VIVIE comes in. She stops gravely on seeing MRS. WARREN, who greets her with hysterical cheerfulness.] Well, dearie. So here you are at last.

  VIVIE I am glad you have come: I want to speak to you. You said you were going, Frank, I think.

  FRANK Yes. Will you come with me, Mrs. Warren? What do you say to a trip to Richmond, and the theatre in the evening? There is safety in Richmond. No steam roller there.

  VIVIE Nonsense, Frank. My mother will stay here.

  MRS. WARREN [scared] I don’t know: perhaps I’d better go. We’re disturbing you at your work.

  VIVIE [with quiet decision] Mr. Praed: please take Frank away. Sit down, mother. [MRS. WARREN obeys helplessly.]

  PRAED Come, Frank. Good-bye, Miss Vivie.

  VIVIE [shaking hands] Good-bye. A pleasant trip.

  PRAED Thank you: thank you. I hope so.

  FRANK [to MRS. WARREN] Good-bye: you’d ever so much better have taken my advice. [He shakes hands with her. Then airily to VIVIE] Bye-bye, Viv.

  VIVIE Good-bye. [He goes out gaily without shaking hands with her. PRAED follows. VIVIE, composed and extremely grave, sits down in Honoria’s chair, and waits for her mother to speak. MRS. WARREN, dreading a pause, loses no time in beginning.]

  MRS. WARREN Well, Vivie, what did you go away like that for without saying a word to me? How could you do such a thing! And what have you done to poor George? I wanted him to come with me; but he shuffled out of it. I could see that he was quite afraid of you. Only fancy: he wanted me not to come. As if [trembling] I should be afraid of you, dear. [VIVIE’s gravity deepens. ] But of course I told him it was all settled and comfortable between us, and that we were on the best of terms. [She breaks down.] Vivie: what’s the meaning of this? [She produces a paper from an envelope; comes to the table; and hands it across.] I got it from the bank this morning.

  VIVIE It is my month.’s allowance. They sent it to me as usual the other day. I simply sent it back to be placed to your credit, and asked them to send you the lodgment receipt. In future I shall support myself.

  MRS. WARREN [not daring to understand] Wasn’t it enough? Why didn’t you tell me? [With a cunning gleam in her eye.] I’ll double it: I was intending to double it. Only let me know how much you want.

  VIVIE You know very well that that has nothing to do with it. From this time I go my own way in my own business and among my own friends. And you will go yours. [She rises.] Good-bye.

  MRS. WARREN [appalled] Good-bye?

  VIVIE Yes: good-bye. Come: don’t let us make a useless scene: you understand perfectly well. Sir George Crofts has told me the whole business.

  MRS. WARREN [angrily] Silly old—[She swallows an epithet, and turns white at the narrowness of her escape from uttering it.] He ought to have his tongue cut out. But I explained it all to you; and you said you didn’t mind.

  VIVIE [steadfastly] Excuse me: Idomind. You explained how it came about. That does not alter it. [MRS. WARREN, silenced for a moment, looks forlornly at VIVIE, who waits like a statue, secretly hoping that the combat is over. But the cunning expression comes back into MRS. WARREN’s face; and she bends across the table, sly and urgent, half whispering. ]

  MRS. WARREN Vivie: do you know how rich I am?

  VIVIE I have no doubt you are very rich.

  MRS. WARREN But you don’t know all that that means: you’re too young. It means a new dress every day; it means theatres and balls every night; it means having the pick of all the gentlemen in Europe at your feet; it means a lovely house and plenty of servants ; it means the choicest of eating and drinking; it means everything you like, everything you want, everything you can think of. And what are you here? A mere drudge, toiling and moiling early and late for your bare living and two cheap dresses a year. Think over it. [Soothingly.] You’re shocked, I know. I can enter into your feelings; and I think they do you credit; but trust me, nobody will blame you: you may take my word for that. I know what young girls are; and I know you’ll think better of it when you’ve turned it over in
your mind.

  VIVIE So that’s how it’s done, is it? You must have said all that to many a woman, mother, to have it so pat.

  MRS. WARREN [passionately] What harm am I asking you to do? [VIVIE turns away contemptuously. MRS. WARREN follows her desperately.] Vivie: listen to me: you don’t understand: you’ve been taught wrong on purpose: you don’t know what the world is really like.

  VIVIE [arrested] Taught wrong on purpose! What do you mean?

  MRS. WARREN I mean that you’re throwing away all your chances for nothing. You think that people are what they pretend to be—that the way you were taught at school and college to think right and proper is the way things really are. But it’s not: it’s all only a pretence, to keep the cowardly, slavish, common run of people quiet. Do you want to find that out, like other women, at forty, when you’ve thrown yourself away and lost your chances; or won’t you take it in good time now from your own mother, that loves you and swears to you that it’s truth—gospel truth? [Urgently.] Vivie: the big people, the clever people, the managing people, all know it. They do as I do, and think what I think. I know plenty of them. I know them to speak to, to introduce you to, to make friends of for you. I don’t mean anything wrong: that’s what you don’t understand: your head is full of ignorant ideas about me. What do the people that taught you know about life or about people like me? When did they ever meet me, or speak to me, or let anyone tell them about me?—the fools! Would they ever have done anything for you if I hadn’t paid them? Haven’t I told you that I want you to be respectable? Haven’t I brought you up to be respectable? And how can you keep it up without my money and my influence and Lizzie’s friends? Can’t you see that you’re cutting your own throat as well as breaking my heart in turning your back on me?

  VIVIE I recognise the Crofts philosophy of life, mother. I heard it all from him that day at the Gardners’.

  MRS. WARREN You think I want to force that played-out old sot on you! I don‘t, Vivie: on my oath I don’t.

  VIVIE It would not matter if you did: you would not succeed. [MRS. WARREN winces, deeply hurt by the implied indifference towards her affectionate intention. VIVIE, neither understanding this nor concerning herself about it, goes on calmly] Mother: you don’t at all know the sort of person I am. I don’t object to Crofts more than to any other coarsely built man of his class. To tell you the truth, I rather admire him for being strong-minded enough to enjoy himself in his own way and make plenty of money instead of living the usual shooting, hunting, dining-out, tailoring, loafing life of his set merely because all the rest do it. And I’m perfectly aware that if I’d been in the same circumstances as my aunt Liz, I’d have done exactly what she did. I don’t think I’m more prejudiced or straitlaced than you: I think I’m less. I’m certain I’m less sentimental. I know very well that fashionable morality is all a pretence: and that if I took your money and devoted the rest of my life to spending it fashionably, I might be as worthless and vicious as the silliest woman could possibly want to be without having a word said to me about it. But I don’t want to be worthless. I shouldn’t enjoy trotting about the park to advertise my dressmaker and carriage builder, or being bored at the opera to show off a shop windowful of diamonds.