by George Moore
DEAN.
It was my speech to the hillside men that did it. The Aldermen were unconsciously influenced; they had to give way; they felt I had a great popular enthusiasm behind me. I sent you the report of my speech.
MILLICENT.
Yes; I didn’t show it to uncle... You were very hard on us at Southhaven.
DEAN.
I’m glad that you are here to congratulate me. Above all, that you don’t disapprove.
MILLICENT.
Disapprove! I know nothing about it.
ARABELLA.
We’re dying to hear how you convinced the Corporation.
MILLICENT.
Do tell us, Jasper. What did you say to convince them against their will?
DEAN.
I thought that you knew that, to-day, the Corporation was to meet to consider our claims against Southhaven.
MILLICENT.
Uncle says there’s nothing in your claim. Oh, is that it? I’m sorry it is that.
DEAN.
Why are you sorry, Millicent?
MILLICENT.
Merely that I should not like you to fail, and from what I’ve heard my uncle say you have not much chance.
MRS. POLLOCK.
If that is so, I think the Corporation did very wrong in voting for the resolution. I suppose your oratory clouded their reason. What did you say, Jasper?
DEAN.
There was a number of very good sentences. This money was a wound through which the life of this town spilt away — no, that was not it.
CAROLINE.
But what did you propose to do?
DEAN.
Merely to set the law in motion — that we had a legal claim to the money. I said that here every one was at variance, that the great enthusiasms which had once moved our people have faded, and that men cared for nothing but their private hatreds and their mean private interests.
CAROLINE.
But that is a foolish thing to say, Jasper. A man must look after his private interests, and the interests of his family. I’m sure you’re with me on this point, Miss Fell.
KIRWAN.
It is all these private interests that have ruined our town, and, because of them, nobody who did not come from outside our clique could unite us.
DEAN.
But you must not suppose, Millicent, that this town is worse than other towns, on account of its squabbles. It is as all other towns are when the fire burns low. It is a little image of the world. (CAROLINE is about to intervene.) Very likely I’m wrong, aunt, but that can’t be helped.
CAROLINE.
Why can’t it be helped?
DEAN.
Come, Kirwan, to the study; I want to show you a rough draft of a letter for our solicitor to send to Southhaven; but I’m forgetting. (Looks at KIRWAN.) Here is the man.
KIRWAN.
My dear Jasper, I do not wish it.
DEAN.
Here is the man. He preached in the wilderness, and what he preached has come to pass, though no one heard him. It is a mistake to think that words are lost if they do not fall into ears, for even those thoughts survive and influence that never find their way into words. A thought is a spiritual thing.
CAROLINE.
My dear Jasper, what do you mean?
DEAN.
Something that he taught me to understand. Tell my Aunt Caroline your ideas; she is most anxious to understand.
CAROLINE.
I understand very well, sir. You’re going to take advantage of some vaguely worded clause in an agreement to bring an action against Southhaven, and alienate every respectable person from our town. You talk about preaching in the wilderness, and would have us believe your ideas are spiritual, and the rest of it; it is a sum of money you are after.
KIRWAN.
This sum of money is a symbol —
CAROLINE.
Whenever people shrink from saying what they mean, they call it a symbol.
DEAN.
Then you won’t listen?
CAROLINE.
I’m listening.
KIRWAN.
Behind this money there is something more, far more precious than the material prosperity that the money will bring; the material prosperity we want, and sorely, for we want to liberate the mind, and we can only do that through the body. This money will be the liberation of many ideas which poverty holds in slavery, and the ideas thus liberated will urge the race to its appointed destiny.
DEAN.
The birds suddenly rise and fly “somewhere,” the people get up suddenly to go “somewhere — to the Crusades. In like manner the people here have decided suddenly that this town shall not crumble into ruin, that its people shall not be driven into exile, that its language shall not pass away. (Turning to KIRWAN.) And the destiny of the race, tell them what that is.
KIRWAN.
My dear Jasper, these are questions that we find interesting to ponder, but we must not intrude them upon the drawing-room. These ladies will excuse us. Come, show me the letter that you spoke of.
[Exeunt DEAN and KIRWAN.
LEECH.
Well, Caroline, Jasper seems to be coming out of his shell.
CAROLINE.
I can’t understand how you could have consented to support such a resolution. You’re afraid, because you think he has succeeded in stirring up the people.
LEECH.
I’m afraid he has. I met a man in the street just now and he said the hills are on fire. (Turns up stage.)
CAROLINE.
I have no patience with such cowardice. You, James, are just as bad. You voted for the resolution, I suppose. Was there not one among you who had the courage of his convictions?
POLLOCK.
Lawrence voted against it. I, too, would have voted against it. You really don’t understand, Caroline, it was not safe.
CAROLINE.
Jasper said only what Kirwan has been saying for years, and such words do not set the hills on fire.
LEECH.
Ah, there it is, you see. One can’t explain these things. (LEECH walks aside with POLLOCK.)
MRS. POLLOCK.
I’m afraid Jasper has ruined Pollock’s chance of that appointment.
MRS. LEECH.
I’m afraid we shan’t be asked anywhere.
MRS. POLLOCK.
It is always one’s relations that involve us in difficulties and troubles CAROLINE (turning to MILLICENT).
What do you think about all this, Millicent? Do you think that your friends will boycott all Northhaven people next season?
MILLICENT.
No; I don’t think so (laughing). I’ve heard a great deal of your differences of opinion, but I did not realise — well, that it was so much like a hornet’s nest.
MRS. LEECH.
I’m glad to hear you say you don’t think it will make any difference socially. There are all my dresses. But, Miss Fell, you can tell us what they are wearing now in Southhaven. (They walk up to MILLICENT.)
POLLOCK.
We could not oppose him, my wife may say what she likes.
LEECH.
Apparently a leader is merely one who identifies himself with — (He makes a vague gesture with his fingers in the air.)
POLLOCK.
Just so, James. God only knows how it will end. Perhaps Lawrence will pull us through. But I must be going.
LEECH.
So must I. I don’t believe much in Lawrence. Jasper has finished him. Goodbye, James.
(Exeunt, amid general leave-takings, ALDERMAN JAMES POLLOCK, ALDERMAN MICHAEL LEECH, and MRS. LEECH.)
CAROLINE (to MILLICENT).
Now they’ve all gone, will you tell me what you think of this matter? I will come and sit down by you.
MILLICENT.
I’m like one dazed. I only half understand what is happening. Kirwan seems to have obtained an extraordinary influence over Jasper.
CAROLINE.
I think he has; but what interests me more for the
moment is the effect that this sudden resolve to carry our claim into the Law Courts will have upon the people of Southhaven.
MILLICENT.
A dispute about money is always unfortunate.
CAROLINE.
But does not this strike you as being very serious? Don’t you think that you ought to write to Mr. Hardman? If these movements are not checked there is no saying how far they will go.
MILLICENT.
I think that Jasper would resent any interference. Don’t you think so?
ARABELLA.
I certainly think so.
But where is Jasper? Has he not yet finished his plans for the destruction of Southhaven? I want him to come with me for a walk. It is such a beautiful evening. Do you think I might venture to knock at his study door? I think I will. (She goes to the door and knocks.)
DEAN.
Who’s there?
MILLICENT.
I beg your pardon; I did not know you were so busy. I thought that perhaps you might find time to come for a walk with me.
(Enter DEAN.)
DEAN.
But, my dear Millicent, of course. I shall be delighted whenever you like... now.
(Enter KIRWAN.)
KIRWAN.
This matter can easily stand over till to-morrow.
DEAN.
Ah!... Very well; so much the better. Miss Fell wants me to go for a walk with her.
MILLICENT.
It is such a beautiful evening; the sea will be full of reflections, and I love reflections, and the sunset.
KIRWAN.
The empty harbour and the quays, the refuge of an occasional trader, are most picturesque at this hour.
MILLICENT.
Come, Jasper, it is a sin to remain indoors. Come.
[Exeunt JASPER and MILLICENT.
KIRWAN.
I have a few more letters to write, Miss Dean. Will you excuse me? — [Exit KIRWAN.
CAROLINE.
Jasper has never been the same since he met that man. I shall certainly try to persuade Millicent to write to Mr. Hardman when she comes in.
ARABELLA.
She can’t write to-night. The post has gone out. You had better not interfere, Caroline.
(Enter MAID.)
Alderman Foley, Miss.
(Enter FOLEY. Exit MAID.)
CAROLINE.
I hope, Valentine, that you have not lent your aid to this abominable agitation which will incite all parties in Southhaven against us. — [Exit ARABELLA FOLEY.
Well, you see, Caroline, that popular enthusiasm runs so high; one’s emotions over-rule one’s reasons, and I really do feel that —
CAROLINE.
I shall telegraph the facts of the case to Mr. Hardman. And you will take it to the post. (She goes to the table, writes the message. FOLEY waits in the middle of the stage.)
ACT THE THIRD.
THE SAME AS last act, JASPER DEAN’S drawing-room. Enter DEAN and KIRWAN. Voices heard cheering DEAN in the street.
DEAN.
My name is upon their lips, but it is you they are cheering.
KIRWAN.
Very likely. The man who cheers never knows whom he is cheering.
(Enter MACNEE.)
MACNEE.
I spoke to you at the door, sir, but you did not hear me. I hope you’ll excuse me for having followed you upstairs.
KIRWAN (aside to DEAN).
You know this man, I introduced you to him just now.
DEAN.
Well, I hope all is going well for the meeting, Macnee?
MACNEE.
It was about that that I wanted to speak. I’ve sounded them, sir, and you can reckon all the clubs. It will be the biggest and the most determined meeting ever held in the town, sir.
KIRWAN.
You’ve seen about the posters.
MACNEE.
Yes, sir; any further orders?
DEAN.
No; I feel I can leave everything to you.
KIRWAN.
Thank you, my man.
[Exit MACNEE.
DEAN (throwing himself into an armchair).
At last a quiet half-hour in which to live. I got up this morning seeing the day before me as a long battle in which my will went out to conquer numerous enemies, sometimes drawn up in battle array, and sometimes one by one in single combat.
KIRWAN.
That is public life. How does it strike you?
DEAN.
The first thing that strikes me is a sense of unreality; my real self is not here. Macnee, who has only just gone out, seems to me like something I have dreamed.
KIRWAN.
I love their simple minds and their mysterious subconscious life — the only real life. To be with them is to be united to the essential again. To hear them is as refreshing as the breathing of the earth on a calm spring morning.
DEAN.
But they understand nothing of our ideals — that man, for instance.
KIRWAN.
The earth underfoot does not understand our words, but it understands as we may not. So it is with the people.
DEAN.
I envy you your deep sympathies and their sudden simplifications of the world.
KIRWAN.
Unfortunately I have not the magnetism that moves the people.
I often wonder why your love and sympathy, which are much deeper than mine, should not reach them, should not appeal to them, as readily as mine.
KIRWAN.
It is for that very reason; your appeal is stronger because you are not of the people; you are the romantic element outside them, the delight they follow always.
DEAN.
I had no real understanding of any truth until I met you.
And yet, when I lived in Southhaven I was conscious of a vague disquiet — that was how the change began in me, in a vague disquiet. I tried to convince myself that it was I who was at fault, and I struggled with my feelings, I battled with my heart, but without avail; I had to give way at last; and once I let myself go, my life, like a tree released from rocks and planted in natural soil, shot up. It is such joy to allow the truth into one’s mind, to think for one’s self, to be true to one’s self. It was like a sudden change of light, and all that had seemed right was suddenly changed to wrong, and what I had thought despicable became right and praiseworthy.
KIRWAN.
Over there, in Southhaven, if one shuts one’s eyes all is pitch blackness, but here, if one shuts them, there is still light.
And the things which I had thought beautiful grew vile, small, and the whole world trivial and black and barren as a handful of gravel.
KIRWAN.
You were dissatisfied even with the earth under your feet; the air was empty of supersensuous life. We are lonely in a foreign land because we are deprived of our past life; but the past is about us here; we see it at evening glimmering among the hollows of the hills.
DEAN.
We miss that sense of kinship which the sight of our native land awakens in us — (he goes to the window) — the barren mountains over there, so lonely, draw me by their antique sympathy; and the rush of the river awakens echoes of old tales in my heart; truly our veins are as old as our rivers. But if I had not met you, Kirwan, I should have known nothing of these things. (Pause, walks down the stage to KIRWAN.) It is a necessity of my being to believe in the sacredness of the land underfoot; to see in it the birthplace of noble thought, heroism, and beauty, and divine ecstasies. These are souls, and in a far truer sense than we are souls; this land is the birthplace of our anterior selves; at once ourselves and our gods. Our gods have not perished; they have but retired to the lonely hills; and since I’ve known you, Kirwan, I’ve seen them there, at evening; they sit there brooding over our misfortunes, waiting for us to become united with them and with each other once more. You taught me to understand these things; and I think that I do not misinterpret your teaching. What are you thinking of, Kirwan?
KIRWAN.
&
nbsp; I’m wondering if when you are married you will think as you do to-day. Life is the enemy — we should fly from life.
DEAN.
Fly from life! How can we?
KIRWAN.
Life, always hungry, follows eager to devour us, and only three men, a Hindu, a Greek, and a Jew escaped; the others, the great ones, the greatest ones, lost some part of themselves in the jaws of life. Woman is life in its most typical form and family life a wolfish pack.
DEAN.
Then do you think I shall fail you? You think I am a wanderer, a will-of-the-wisp, and that I will light up the way but for a moment.
KIRWAN
Our lowlands are full of these merry gentlemen, and our skies are full of meteors. (Pause.) If the moment has arrived, you will suffice. Your speech which carried the Corporation with you and your speeches to the people do not convince me so much of your individual capacity as that the moment has come, and that you really are part and parcel of the movement of a nation. Your ideas are merely personal, it is Macnee’s ideas that are universal and valid. You are their voice for the moment.
(Enter MILLICENT.)
DEAN.
Oh, Millicent, here you are. I wish you had come a little sooner, the conversation has been so interesting; Kirwan has been saying most interesting things.
KIRWAN.
I think that on this occasion you have done most of the talking yourself, Jasper.
DEAN.
I was but repeating the ideas I learnt from you. It is a joy to me to hear them spoken. When you do not speak them, I have to speak them myself lest I should forget them.
MILLICENT.
Jasper is very modest. Even when he speaks quite original ideas he willingly attributes them to some one else. But on what subject were you saying such interesting things that it was a pity I was not here to hear them?
DEAN.
We were talking of the spiritual destiny of the Celtic race, because of its spiritual inheritance it is greater than any other race.
MILLICENT.
I know what Alderman Kirwan thinks on the subject of race. He said the other day he was afraid of me, for I come from Southhaven, and Southhaven is success, prosperity, the world’s desire.
KIRWAN.
Yes, indeed, the world’s desire.
MILLICENT.
But you would not have a country poor and forlorn?
KIRWAN.
We give our souls in exchange for success, prosperity, material organisation. Southhaven is spiritual death.
