Priestley Plays Four Page 17

MARTIN: The Theatre’s dying – though it may last out your time –

  LEATHERS: Yes, thank God! – but I don’t give it much longer –

  MARTIN: The old spirit’s gone –

  LEATHERS: Right! The plays aren’t the same –

  MARTIN: The audiences aren’t the same –

  LEATHERS: And the actors –

  MARTIN finishes this with him.

  (With MARTIN.) – aren’t the same. (LEATHERS looks at MARTIN humorously.) Here – this is a duet.

  MARTIN: Well, you see, Alfred, I know that speech about the dying Theatre. I’ve heard it before tonight.

  LEATHERS: Not from me you haven’t

  MARTIN: No, but from somebody rather like you – only he was talking a hundred years ago, and it was panoramas then and not films and he’d acted with Kean and Mrs. Glover in his youth instead of Irving and Ellen Terry –

  LEATHERS: Who had?

  MARTIN: This old actor I heard –

  LEATHERS: Heard? Where?

  MARTIN: Here is this Green Room. Just the place to hear it.

  LEATHERS: Ah – I see – you’ve been dreaming.

  WHITEFOOT: That’s the stuff, Martin!

  Both turn away while PAULINE lingers.

  MARTIN: Hang on a minute, Pauline. I’ve a call coming through that will interest you.

  She turns enquiringly and hopefully, while the two actors go out L..

  PAULINE: George Gavin?

  MARTIN: Yes. He rang me earlier but now I’ve asked Otley to get through to him as soon as he can. I think you’d like to hear what I say to him.

  PAULINE: (With some excitement.) I will if you’re going to accept his offer. And you are! What’s happened? Why have you changed your mind?

  MARTIN: (Slowly, reflectively.) I’ve been thinking about the Theatre. About its being life in miniature, as the old writers, especially Shakespeare, were always saying.

  PAULINE: (Rather impatiently.) I know. All the world’s a stage – and so on. Rather obvious stuff, I’ve always thought it.

  MARTIN: (As before.) I wonder if it is – even that. One man – in his time – plays many parts. The man, you see, is distinct from the parts, and his time is the stage on which he plays them. Is it so obvious, Pauline?

  PAULINE: Well – perhaps not – if you put it that way. But what about the Theatre?

  MARTIN: I believe now that in our life, as in the Theatre, the scenery and costumes and character make-ups and props are only a shadow show, to be packed up and put away when the performance is over. And what’s real and enduring, perhaps indestructible, is all that so many fools imagine to be flimsy and fleeting – the innermost and deepest feelings – the way an honest artist sees his work – the root and heart of a real personal relationship – the flame – the flame burning clear. And Pauline, I believe that for all our vulgar mess of paint and canvas and lights and advertisement, we who work in the Theatre do our share in helping to guard and to show that flame –

  The telephone rings. MARTIN answers it.

  Yes, that’s right – Sir George Gavin… Oh – hello, George… Yes, I am… No, there were some more… Well, call them that if you like, but I’m not so sure… No, that’s where you’re wrong, George. I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to say Yes – yes…if your offer’s still open, I’m coming in with you – Yes, if you like, with every penny I possess… No, I can’t because I’m going to rewrite my third act, but give me a few days and I’ll have a scheme for you… All right then, see you on the First Night here… Do I? Well, perhaps I am. Goodbye, George.

  He comes away from the telephone. PAULINE looks at him.

  PAULINE: He told you that you sounded different, didn’t he?

  MARTIN: Yes. Good guess.

  PAULINE: But what can you do for those characters of yours. You remember what you said? No real understanding. No genuine communication. All making frantic gestures behind glass doors.

  MARTIN: I’ll try to fling open those doors for them. I’ll try to show them that communication may reach further and understanding go deeper than – than many of us ever dreamt. I’ve got to take that risk.

  PAULINE: What risk? What do you mean?

  MARTIN: (Half smiling.) No, Pauline.

  PAULINE: (Firmly.) Martin, what happened?

  MARTIN: I took four tablets instead of two.

  PAULINE: No, that’s not all. Something happened.

  MARTIN: No, my dear, don’t press me. What I felt was intensely real – and that’s why I’m ready to take the risk of opening these doors – but the rest of it – well, if might have been a dream – or delirium – or –

  PAULINE: (As he hesitates.) Or what? That’s not all.

  MARTIN: Probably it is.

  PAULINE: No. Because you felt it – and it’s changed you –

  MARTIN: (Very slowly, hesitantly.) Or – perhaps – communication and understanding – outside our time – in some unknown dimension of things – oh, I can’t say any more.

  PAULINE: All right. I won’t ask now. But don’t go back on whatever it was.

  MARTIN: I don’t want to. But I can’t help remembering the sceptical grin on that doctor’s face. He’s seen people like me before.

  PAULINE: Doctors don’t know everything.

  MARTIN: No, but they get about a bit. And I’ve no proof. There can’t be any proof now.

  PAULINE: Proof – of what?

  But MARTIN shakes his head. She looks at him curiously for a moment.

  You know – I told you you ought to fall in love – you remember? And you laughed at me. Well, you can laugh at me again – because now I can’t help feeling you have fallen in love.

  MARTIN: You may be right. Perhaps I have.

  PAULINE: (Astonished.) Yes – but how can you? Who is it?

  MARTIN: (Rather sadly.) I don’t know. I told you – I’ve no proof now. You’d better go down to the stage now, Pauline.

  PAULINE: (As she goes.) All right. But don’t let go, Martin.

  MARTIN: (As she goes, uncertainly.) I’ll try not to, Pauline. (But he looks sombre and bewildered as he sits, away from desk, with writing pad on his knee but not writing. Clearly he feels uncertain and rather unhappy as he tries to keep a hold on his experience during the evening. Then he looks up sharply. The crimson gauntlet glove lies on the floor again and he goes forward and as he picks it up and stares at it, the Jenny music plays softly.

  Then OTLEY looks in R..

  OTLEY: Miss Seward.

  He holds the door open and ANN enters and comes forward. OTLEY going out and closing door. Still holding glove, MARTIN stares at her.

  MARTIN: (Involuntarily.) Jenny Villiers!

  ANN: No, but my grandmother – my mother’s mother – was an actress – quite well-known once – Margaret Shirley –

  MARTIN: Yes, I remember her.

  ANN: And her grandfather – who went out to Australia about a hundred years ago, when my grandmother’s mother, my great grandmother was just a tiny baby – well, he’d worked in the Theatre – though he wasn’t famous or anything –

  MARTIN: And what was his name?

  ANN: Oh – you wouldn’t ever have heard of him. His name was Kettle – Walter Kettle. (As she notices the effect of this.) What’s the matter? You’re trembling.

  MARTIN: You’re trembling too.

  ANN: Yes, but it’s different for me – a girl – talking to somebody I’ve always admired –

  MARTIN: I don’t think that’s it. Is it now?

  ANN: That’s not fair. And look at you. What’s the matter? It couldn’t be as quick as this could it?

  MARTIN: Quick, slow – here, there – now, then – tomorrow, yesterday – perhaps it’s all different from what we think. Aren’t you either playing or rehearsing this week?

  ANN: No, they gave me a week off. But I must go – because I know you have some work to do.

  MARTIN: I have – and it’s urgent – worse luck – rewriting the end of my play.

  ANN: Then I’m going (S
he goes towards door R.. He watches her. Just before she reaches door, she turns and gives him a wonderful smile.) Am I mad? Or – if I came tomorrow – could we talk?

  MARTIN: (With his heart in it.) You’re not mad – or we both are, so it doesn’t matter. And tomorrow we’ll start talking – and go on for ever and ever –

  As they look up and smile at each other, the music swells up and the curtain slowly descends.

  End of Play.