Part 2

AUNT. Did the gentleman come himself?

BELLA. Yes, ma’m. He is waiting in the hall.

(_MINNIE looks over letter._)

AUNT. Show him in at once here.

HORACE. Don’t bring him in here. He can stay in the hall.

AUNT. Certainly not. Show him in here, Bella.

(_Exit BELLA R._)

HORACE. Well, who is my blessed preserver?

AUNT. Mr. Dicey.

HORACE. What, Arthur Dicey? That Stock Exchange fellow?

AUNT. A charming young man.

HORACE. A brainless idiot!

AUNT. A perfect gentleman, and besides, I hear he is enormously rich.

MINNIE. How kind and thoughtful of him! He always seems to be doing the right thing just at the right moment.

HORACE. Minnie, I don’t at all care that you should go with this fellow to-night. He is not at all the kind of man I wish you to be seen going about with.

MINNIE. He is always so attentive.

HORACE. I dare say he is. I don’t choose that you go with him.

AUNT. What dog-in-the-manger attitude is this? You won’t take her yourself nor let anyone else.

HORACE. I have expressed my wish on the matter and I propose to have my way, so——

(_Enter BELLA, showing in MR. DICEY R._)

BELLA. Mr. Dicey.

AUNT. This is a most opportune kindness you are showing us, Mr. Dicey. We gladly accept your escort. (_Shakes hands._)

MINNIE. (_Shaking hands_) You can hardly guess how much obliged we are to you. Thank you for thinking of us.

DICEY. The pleasure is doubled if I am of real service.

MINNIE. Somehow or other, we had forgotten to order a cab.

AUNT. Yes. _We_ had forgotten!

HORACE. I was just getting ready to run down the street after one.

AUNT. So of course my nephew is very grateful to you. Aren’t you, Horace? Now he will be able to pursue his scientific studies without fear of interruption.

DICEY. Aren’t you coming with us, Mr. Parker?

HORACE. Well, I had not thought of doing so.

MINNIE. If it had not been for you, Mr. Dicey, I doubt whether any of us would have gone. We were very nearly giving up going.

DICEY. Have I really saved the situation for you? That is jolly good luck. May I claim an extra number of dances on the strength of it?

MINNIE. As many as you wish.

(_DICEY helps AUNT with her cloak._)

DICEY. Thank you so much.

MINNIE. Won’t you come, Horace? I hardly care to go without you.

HORACE. Your dances are all booked, it seems. You have none left.

MINNIE. Oh, yes, I have, for those who have the grace to ask for them. Mr. Dicey will have his fair share. He dances beautifully and our steps suit each other to perfection.

HORACE. By which you mean to say you dance beautifully, too?

MINNIE. No, I leave it to others to say that. (_Turns away L._)

DICEY. And I wish to be the first to say it.

HORACE. My aunt is ready, I see. If you will take her, we will follow a little later.

DICEY. I thought you were out of town, or I should not have come. But there is plenty of room in the car. Won’t you and your sister come with us?

HORACE. Miss Templar is not my sister.

DICEY. Your adopted sister, I should have said.

HORACE. And my intended wife. (_Aside_) That’s a nasty one for Master Dicey.

DICEY. Pardon me. That I did not know. May I offer my congratulations?

MINNIE. Thank you, Mr. Dicey, but it is a little early for congratulations. We laugh it over between ourselves sometimes in a brotherly-sisterly sort of way without much serious consideration what marriage means. There’s nothing settled yet. Will you see Auntie to the car while I get my wrap?

AUNT. Good night, Horace.

HORACE. Good night, Aunt.

DICEY. Good-night, Mr. Parker.

HORACE. Good night, sir.

(_Exeunt AUNT and DICEY R._)

MINNIE. (_Coming to L. of table and taking off her engagement ring_) I think you will understand me when I say, “Here is your ring.” You have given me a glimpse of such a love-cheapening life that I have grown afraid. I believed in you, Horace, though I was never blind to your faults. I had hoped I might help you to conquer them, but I realize now the task is beyond me. A stronger spirit would have to be invoked. Without your love I should fail, and I see now you have none to offer me. The devotion of your life is for yourself and yourself alone.

HORACE. And all this fuss because I don’t want you to go with a silly ass to a dance to-night.

MINNIE. No. For your utter lack of consideration. I might hurt my dear friend, Kitty Clarence, by not going to her dance. Oh, that was nothing! Disappoint Auntie—nothing—give up my own pleasure—nothing—insult a visitor—nothing, nothing at all. Here it is, Horace. (_Puts ring on table._) I cannot wear it. The gold seems to have gone out of it. (_Exit R._)

HORACE. And that’s the girl I’ve been talking to about broad views! (_Working round table to paper on the floor._) Well, I’ve met some narrow-minded people in my life, but she is far and away the most narrow-minded of the lot. (_Picks up paper._) It’s very disappointing, that’s what it is, very disappointing. Women are all alike. No liberality, no generosity. You think you have found an exception, you pour out all the wealth of your priceless love upon her, and the moment the shoe pinches—there you are. I suppose she will want to make it up to-morrow, then I shall have to put down my foot and come to a thorough understanding. Confound that fellow Dicey! It’s all his fault. I never ought to have allowed him to take her. I ought to have gone myself. Damn Dicey! Now for this article. I suppose I’d better read it. Don’t feel a bit like it. However, it may act as a sedative. (_Settles down to read._)

BELLA. (_Entering R._) Please, sir, there’s a man wants to see you.

HORACE. A what wants to what?

BELLA. A man to see you, sir.

HORACE. What does he want?

BELLA. I don’t know, sir. He says he has a letter for you, sir.

HORACE. Why didn’t he give it to you?

BELLA. He wouldn’t trust it out of his hand, sir. He says he must give it to you himself.

HORACE. What sort of a man?

BELLA. Well, sir, he seems to think he is a respectable sort of a man, but he’s what I should call a tramp.

HORACE. A tramp? Well, I can’t see him, then. I can’t see him. Tell him to come again in the morning.

BELLA. I told him that, sir.

HORACE. Well, what did he say?

BELLA. Well, sir, he said he was a persevering kind of man, but he’s what I should call obstinate.

HORACE. What do you mean?

BELLA. He said he wouldn’t go away till he had seen you—and I don’t think he will.

HORACE. It is too maddening. I can’t have one moment to myself. Very well, show him in. Show him in. (_Exit BELLA._) First of all Aunt Martha, then that fool Dicey, then Minnie and now a tramp.

(_Enter BELLA with TRAMP. Exit BELLA R._)

HORACE. Well, what is it? What is it? What do you want?

TRAMP. Mr. Brampton told me to give you this. (_Hands letter._)

HORACE. Mr. Brampton—of Coventry?

TRAMP. Yes, sir.

HORACE. (_Reading_) “—might be able to give him some work.” I haven’t any work to give you. “Clever workman—seen better days.”

TRAMP. That’s true enough. I never see any worse than what I’m getting now.

HORACE. I’m afraid I cannot help you.

TRAMP. Don’t be hard, Guv’ner. I’m cold and tired. I’ve walked all the way from Coventry.

HORACE. Walked? Why, Mr. Brampton says here he has given you the money for your railway fare.

TRAMP. So he did, sir. I had a bit of bad luck with that.

HORACE. What? Lost it, I suppose. (_Half laughing._)

TRAMP. Not exactly, sir.

HORACE. What then?

TRAMP. Spent it.

HORACE. How? Drink?

TRAMP. Yes, drink and meat. There’s no crime in that, is there? Even a tramp must eat.

HORACE. Yes, and drink. Well, and when the money was gone——

TRAMP. I had to walk. That’s all.

HORACE. Well, that’s what you will have to do now. I can’t help you.

TRAMP. Just my luck! (_Going._) Beg pardon, Guv’ner, do you feel like standing me a drink before I go, just to keep out the cold?

HORACE. (_Shrugs his shoulders_) Help yourself.

TRAMP. (_Drinks glass of whiskey MINNIE had poured out_) Ah, that’s good! That brings back old times. You wouldn’t think, Guv’ner, that I was a prosperous man once. (_HORACE indicates that whiskey is responsible._) No, it wasn’t drink that ruined me. Drink may have kept me down, but it didn’t throw me. I’m an engineer by trade—leastways, I was, but I ain’t worked at it now these five years. Thank you kindly for the whiskey. Good night, sir.

HORACE. Care to take another?

TRAMP. Thank you, sir, I would. (_Helps himself._) Your health, Guv’ner! You wouldn’t think there was much of the inventor about me? Would you? But I’ve got some ideas, good uns too, only I ain’t got the capital, see?

HORACE. I see.

TRAMP. I’ll let you into one of my ideas, Guv’ner, if you’ll take it up. It’ll make your fortune.

HORACE. Thanks. I have all the money I require.

TRAMP. Have you, now? I haven’t, that’s the difference. Feels pretty comfortable, doesn’t it? I was doing very well once, over there in the States.

HORACE. America?

TRAMP. Yes. They’re pretty smart there, but I showed them I was as good as they. I made a steam valve that’s on most boilers to-day. Yes, I did. Just me. I got ten thousand dollars down before I got my papers out. But my partner got ahead of me. I never saw another cent. I fought him as long as the money lasted. But it didn’t go far in the Courts of _Justice_. It was the Law as downed me, Guv’ner. Drink?—only damned me.

HORACE. Too bad. You must try again.

TRAMP. Not much chance of that. One can’t do anything without a little capital, and who’s going to trust me? No, I’ll pick up a living how I can.

HORACE. How do you pick up a living?

TRAMP. Anyhow. Running after cabs.

HORACE. Surely to goodness, nobody pays you for doing that?

TRAMP. If I’m lucky I gets the job of lifting down the luggage.

HORACE. Oh, that’s it.

TRAMP. There’s a lovely fall of snow to-night.

HORACE. Cold comfort for you, I should have thought.

TRAMP. I may get a job shovelling it in the morning—if I am in luck.

HORACE. Why don’t you go back to your old trade?

TRAMP. Why don’t I go back to my old trade? Why don’t I? Who’s going to take me on? Who’ll give me a job? Will you?

HORACE. I told you I can’t do anything for you.

TRAMP. Then what’s the good of asking? But it don’t matter. I’ve got nothing to live for now. Nothing to save for. The Law broke me up, killed the missus.

HORACE. You were married, then?

TRAMP. Yes.

HORACE. Any children?

TRAMP. One. God forgive me. (_Affected._)

HORACE. Care to take another? Some biscuits if you like.

TRAMP. I ain’t proud. Thank you, Guv’ner. You’re a good un. I worked my way back to England only to find my missus dead and the little un gone.

HORACE. Gone? How gone?

TRAMP. The people she had been with had left, and I never could find out what had become of her. Poor little Minnie!

HORACE. Minnie!

TRAMP. That was her name, sir.

HORACE. Minnie? (_Rising and his manner hardening._)

TRAMP. Everything gone. Why should I care? Care! I beg pardon, sir. The whiskey set me talking. My story can’t interest you. Good night, sir. Perhaps if I come back in a day or two you might know of a job.

HORACE. No. Quite useless. I can do nothing for you. Get along, now.

TRAMP. Good night, sir. (_Exit TRAMP R._)

HORACE. Minnie! Minnie! How dare he mention her name? Of course she couldn’t possibly have anything to do with him. But it did give me a turn. Poor devil, I suppose I was rather rough on him. Never mind, serves him right. I dare say he deserved it. Anyhow, it will prevent him coming back again to-morrow. (_About to drink._) Confound him, he has used my glass! (_Fetches another from table L._) It seems to me I am curiously unlucky. I can’t think why people are so unfair to me. I’m such a good sort. I don’t know anyone who has a better temper or a more generous, open disposition. I expect that is the secret of it. (_Puts whiskey, glasses and biscuits on small table above fireplace._) Other people are so mean, and selfish, and unfair. (_Sits in armchair._) Now let me get on with it. (_Reads “Astronomer.”_) Where was I? Ah, yes, here we are. (_Reads._) “Latest observations have revealed strange lights which some astronomers believe to be signals put out in the hope of an answer from Earth.” I don’t believe a word of it. It may be possible, though. If Mars is inhabited, I wonder what they are like. Are they savages, or are they ahead of us? (_Lamp flickers a little._) Confound it! The lamp’s going out. Minnie never told her. Forgets all about a poor fellow left alone in the dark. Most selfish of her. (_Turns over page and reads by firelight as lamp fails more and more._) Ah, just the end. (_Reads._) “The advent of a messenger or an army from Mars should not seem to us of the twentieth century a greater marvel than did the shining sails of Columbus to the aborigines of America. What an unfolding of wisdom would their coming yield. What problems could they solve, what new ones set us. The mind fails in contemplation. Too vast—vast.” (_Lamp goes out. HORACE falls asleep. Enter A MESSENGER FROM MARS._)

(N.B. _If the lamp has the classical figure suggested, this will now be removed while the stage is dark and a proportionately larger one substituted in which an actor takes the place of the small figure. The lamp-shade will now be approximately four feet in diameter. If the figure does not form a part of the lamp ornamentation in the first instance it will remain simply as a lamp, and the actor takes up a position about C. while stage is dark, and the lights growing bring him slowly into view. A good effect is obtained by blacking out all the stage except the small part R. showing HORACE asleep in his chair, with the firelight playing upon him. A gentle roll of thunder should announce the arrival of the MESSENGER. The following is HORACE’S dream._)

MESSENGER. Man! Man of Earth! Give heed for the good of your kind.

HORACE. Hullo. Who are you? (_Drowsily._)

MESSENGER. I am a Messenger from Mars.

HORACE. Don’t believe a word of it.

MESSENGER. I am a Messenger from Mars. (_Sternly._)

HORACE. Are you really? Won’t you sit down?

MESSENGER. No.

HORACE. Have a drink, then?

MESSENGER. Worm!

HORACE. Meaning me? I note that politeness is at a discount in Mars.

MESSENGER. We are not upon that planet now.

HORACE. I thank my stars.

MESSENGER. Know you why I am here?

HORACE. No more than why the other tramp bothered me. You have come rather farther—you may stay a little longer. From the venturesome spirit that prompted this visit I conclude you are of the greatest of your race.

MESSENGER. I am the poorest gifted, most unhappy, lowest fallen, and easiest spared. I am a criminal, and therefore condemned to make this journey.

HORACE. What had you been up to? Do tell.

MESSENGER. I sinned in vanity. A dear companion and myself had composed a hymn of praise. He died, and I gave it forth as entirely my own.

HORACE. (_Gleefully_) Did you make much out of it?

MESSENGER. It was chanted by many.

HORACE. Then it paid pretty well?

MESSENGER. In Mars we do not write for gain. For five days I endured the bitterest remorse when I confessed my crime, and was sentenced to make this journey.

HORACE. Doubtless you have learnt that I am interested in your world and quite rightly expected a sympathetic welcome from me?

MESSENGER. No. But of all countries yours seemed the most promising field——

HORACE. Bravo! Rule, Britannia!

MESSENGER. Of all cities, this London, the greatest, and most intense——

HORACE. Good old London!

MESSENGER. And of all its citizens yourself the most striking example—(_HORACE bows_)—of the Greed and Egoism of the age.

HORACE. (_Staggering to his feet and about to rush at MESSENGER_) Hullo! I’ll not stand for this! Get out of my——

(_MESSENGER raises his arm and HORACE receives an electric shock which reels him back into his chair. The furniture may be arranged to shake and rock about as if under the same influence. MESSENGER refrains and HORACE slowly recovers himself._)

MESSENGER. Are you properly impressed, or shall I——?

HORACE. No, no! Don’t do it again, please! It hurts!

MESSENGER. Good! Now listen with heart and mind. You have learnt that Mars has a planetary lifetime brief compared with Earth, and yet we Martians are to you as are you to the cattle that you breed.

HORACE. As bad as that?

MESSENGER. Triflers of Time, learn the cause. Self—_Self_ is the Miasm of the world you live in; a soul plague blotching Earth’s body over with its petty spites, outraged homes, labor riots, revolutions, civil wars, carnivals of blood, marring the Grand Purpose. No war has ever wasted Mars, nor could it. There have been no rushings back, no buried epochs, no sleeping centuries, for Self was unmasked at the beginning.

HORACE. Mask? What mask?

MESSENGER. Self wears a thousand, making a counterfeit of every virtue. The soldier’s glory, the painter’s touch, the statesman’s aim, the poet’s dream hide something still of self behind them. Even your children are becoming egoists—the saddest sign of all.

HORACE. Very sad and quite true, but why tell me all this?

MESSENGER. You are the chosen subject.

HORACE. But why?

MESSENGER. Considering your opportunities, you are the basest, the most selfish of men.

HORACE. My opportunities?

MESSENGER. In your house is one whose impulses are fully half unselfish, the maid Minnie. You couldn’t spare one evening to make her happy.

HORACE. She took such a narrow view.

MESSENGER. Shame on you! Shame! Then there is your aunt——

HORACE. Oh, she is awfully narrow, too.

MESSENGER. Silence!

HORACE. If you’d lived in the house as long as I have with Aunt——

MESSENGER. Silence! Too lazy to call a cab.

HORACE. You don’t make any allowance.

MESSENGER. You deserve none. Again, there was that poor unfortunate who in a weak moment confided to you his life’s tragedy.

HORACE. You can’t make me responsible for that dirty tramp’s condition.

MESSENGER. You might have saved him. You would have been blessed a thousandfold if you had.

HORACE. How do you mean?

MESSENGER. In what a hideous Pretence you live. There, before you, stood a man of genius. You drove him out to die. An Inventor perishing in the hey-day of Invention-Worship.

HORACE. Do you really think that fellow’s ideas are good for anything?

MESSENGER. You a man of science! You know nothing at all. There is more in his little finger than your whole body.

HORACE. Look here. If you’ll guarantee him—and with your inside knowledge of things generally—I might hunt him up to-morrow and set him going.

MESSENGER. You will?

HORACE. Yes. Of course, you do guarantee him?

MESSENGER. For whose benefit would you do this?

HORACE. I should expect to come in, of course—

MESSENGER. Hypocrite! Beyond belief hypocrite! You train your dogs with hunger and a whip. It seems I must try that system upon you. Get up!

HORACE. What are you going to do now?

MESSENGER. You must come with me.

HORACE. Not out into the snow?

MESSENGER. Yes, into the snow and the night.

HORACE. Do let me explain. The fact is I am in rather a delicate state of health, and if I were to venture out on a night like this, the consequences might be most serious.

MESSENGER. You are wasting your breath. Come.

HORACE. You can’t really mean it?

MESSENGER. I do.

HORACE. You will let me put on my coat and hat?

MESSENGER. Put them on. We may find them useful. Hurry!

HORACE. (_Putting on his coat and muffler slowly_) You don’t give me time.

MESSENGER. Make haste, I say.

HORACE. I’m not starting out with any comfort at all. I really don’t think I should be wise to venture out to-night. It is so very sharp outside.

MESSENGER. Do you hear me? Come!

HORACE. No. I’m damned if I do! (_MESSENGER raises his arm, and again HORACE is electrified and the furniture thrown into a commotion. HORACE sinks to his knees in front of MESSENGER in terror._) I’ll come! I’ll come!

MESSENGER. On to your schooling! (_MESSENGER leading HORACE away._)

CURTAIN

ACT II

(_The Dream Continues._)

SCENE: _Outside of MRS. CLARENCE’S house in a fashionable London square. A front door is C. Large windows to R. of door. An area with practical steps descending below stage in front of windows. Area railing. The road is up in course of repairs, so that no vehicles can come quite near. A watchman’s hut L. An ash barrel near hut. Red lights hung about to show road is up. Snow thick upon the ground and steps and railings. Moonlight._

AT RISE: _HORACE discovered down area steps peeping along the pavement. Chuckles._

HORACE. I’ve given him the slip. I’ve fooled him! That’s one on Mars. (_Comes up steps cautiously, looking about him._) Deuce take his impudence! I wish he were in—— Well, Mars would be bad enough, from his description of it. If I could get a cab I’d ride round till morning. (_Enter a policeman R._) Good evening, Policeman.

POLICEMAN. Good evening, sir.

HORACE. Any cabs about?

POLICEMAN. No, sir. Very few out, sir. It’s a bad night.

HORACE. By Jove, you are right there. It is the worst night I have ever had.

POLICEMAN. There’s a cab stand in the Bouverie Road. You might find one there, sir.

HORACE. But you don’t think I will?

POLICEMAN. It’s doubtful, sir.

HORACE. Look here, I wish you would get me a taxi or four-wheeler, anything. I don’t care what it is. Here’s a half crown for you. If you bring it back in ten minutes I’ll double it with pleasure.

POLICEMAN. (_Takes coin_) Thank you, sir. Will you wait here?

HORACE. Here or hereabouts. Bring it as near as the road will let you.

POLICEMAN. All right, sir. (_Exit POLICEMAN L._)

HORACE. Splendid force, the police. I believe this is the best hiding place I can find. (_Descends area steps and disappears from view. Enter MESSENGER L._)

MESSENGER. My foolish rabbit! Come from your hole.

HORACE. (_Much discomfited—comes up again_) Rabbit! Beastly personal! Oh, there you are.

MESSENGER. Trying to hide?

HORACE. I’ve been looking for you everywhere—even down in that area. Where have you been?

MESSENGER. The policeman will not find a cab. I have taken care of that.

HORACE. (_Aside_) He must have been listening.

MESSENGER. I have brought you here....

HORACE. You brought me? (_Dejected._) There is no escape.

MESSENGER. None whatever. (_HORACE astounded to find his thought read by MESSENGER._) Look around. Do you know where you are?