The Great Adventure

Arnold Bennett

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• Publié par: vawyer
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 11
• Langue: English

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The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Great Adventure, by Arnold Bennett

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online atwww.gutenberg.net Title: The Great Adventure Author: Arnold Bennett Release Date: October 29, 2004 [eBook #13894] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 ***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREAT ADVENTURE***

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THE GREAT ADVENTURE

A PLAY OF FANCY IN FOUR ACTS BY ARNOLD BENNETT

1913

CHARACTERS

ILAM CARVEAn illustrious Painter ALBERT SHAWNIlam's Valet DR. PASCOE EDWARD HORNINGDoctor's Assistant

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CYRUS CARVE FATHER LOOE PETER HORNING EBAG JOHN SHAWN JAMES SHAWN LORD LEONARD ALCAR TEXEL A WAITER A PAGE A SERVANT JANET CANNOT MRS. ALBERT SHAWN HONORIA LOOE

Ilam's Cousin, a City Auctioneer A Catholic Priest A Journalist A Picture Dealer A Curate His Brother, a Curate

An American Millionaire

A Widow

Sister of Father Looe

SCENES

ACT I

ROOM IN ILAM CARVE'S HOUSE, 126 REDCLIFFE GARDENS

ACT II

PRIVATE ROOM AT THE GRAND BABYLON HOTEL

ACT III

JANET'S SITTING-ROOM AT WERTER ROAD, PUTNEY

ACT IV

LORD LEONARD ALCAR'S STUDY, GROSVENOR GARDENS

SPECIAL NOTE.—Each Act is divided

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into two scenes, separated by a passage of time more or less short. The passage of time is indicated by darkening the stage for a few moments. No change of scenery is involved.

NOTE

The play was produced for the first time in London at the Kingsway Theatre, by Granville Barker, on Tuesday, March 25th, 1913.

THE GREAT ADVENTURE

ACT I SCENE I

Front room on ground floor at 126 Redcliffe Gardens. An apartment furnished richly but in an old-fashioned way. Fine pictures. Large furniture. Sofa near centre. General air of neglect and dustiness. Carpet half-laid. Trunks and bags lying about in corners, some opened. Men's wearing apparel exposed. Mantelpiece, R.,in disorder. At back double doors (ajar) leading to another room. Door, L.,leading to hall and front door. T IME .—Evening in August. A LBERT  S HAWN   is reclining on the sofa, fully dressed, but obviously ill: an overcoat has been drawn over his legs. A conspicuous object is a magnificent light purple dressing-gown thrown across a chair. Door bangs off. Enter   I LAM C ARVE   in his shirt sleeves, hurriedly.   S HAWN   feebly tries to get up. C ARVE . Now, don't move. Remember you're a sick man, and forget you're a servant.

(S HAWN  shivers.C ARVE ,about to put on his dressin - own, chan es his mind,

ir! C ARVE . (Genia  eniy uo reb,ds   hmyp?el AW S H  M N . t otb eh ?dehtiW u the yock oe sana dno—eg vi'Ill ionp ee tatthn llub yllK ).gniy irgn.s S ) .B(le lor comesthe doctfeb— ero.nehyrT  Nt. towhe n tpo s S( AH EV ).C  RA xEti d—— ( foun Con RVE . A C .em esucxe—ris, llbee Th.  WNHA deb  AH S ?  . NW aw Ijus  dstngoit, i obtu).I s ya d , di you make up the os dna s WAH S ?no  ou b I N .mesot gh C . RA s ri uB t EV  . abowhatheetut s e osd anit—wthh  nillur gt eht evar rning, r this moem,ds riaeydh me  yrkwod ulcou yo tuo egassap ruoll, . We ARVE g—— Cni k uht toyod'n tht puo ernd uislA ).tcet em wolf a  halte. ( minu roty uof rogneu  theesak HA  S' SWN ivaHd gn eno ,osing at his watchw irtsa dn ,olko ehT .eslup s'tnetipa he ttsunco,  c rul wonia  EV  , C AR g torninn tu nige RA C ? t di b sihWh)  denvot edic  enoylb tai ,sh  now. Th VE . Just uohg NW c  dup sna hand ts a hiefkerc sih ot C .htuom ture VEAR meims rnidtale yiwhtD . R  P ASCOE .) P ASCOE .lG( icnar gndnuoui qlyck T.)s hi (Goent?patithe a dn WA , N  o H Sset  Th. im hat ksoo l ilc a gnikat ,neermometenical thsip coek rrfmoh ngpit; iant wid   dekpser tiw  ram h

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 .kceW

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ocpmalnigenat  oix o'clo about s k, squic ARVE ir. C  eebuov're ynev  nl omplae rethy nuof I . der a d E  then puts on a  lsa ehc na . A C VR N . AW Fe (lyeb Y.) lo nhsid taoc H S ).     lew sa  NWAH S dnurot  ipsra wnd   a dna ,rot dlot I erthm hia s wae wo c -efll ru eertaerinsuff No.g at aw ty ,sf uo,loohe wI n n'do no t k?wI s milp ysaekd to see the doc  ss,wat  iatwhn  aineG( . EVRA C ?ri uld w co) Holly.tai  nhwlpia Ixe  Hf.lle'ordoofs ni glah  eb nolate. S HAWN f a minu  uxelpia .iD doy  hatd e'mecons ituo tfa m reht e. Then he yelled -yis—xna dar o n ff  aeddrunntwe tndnraelc hh a )sseculaarti witting EV  .C ? RA di(  Ias ,yasris  did uoy W.)t ha stolemiT(yrni gS " AHNW  . r years.ut up fohs neeb sah 621" d,ai she" 6?12 "cn.etao mo eehc uld d wo, an 126 d'g no eota h toel now. (Walks a ,ydhsadi de I fn'do It!is wweh  I f sa.tilekee lrimi a c lrea nal a rbelec e eM detariars ha latd ve tire stre t the en t ah thttek onsw n deanchis hud s .eneb Io egot fcoul. I eredscovrfmoah tllt  det ay s I....lyntta id er'ew ,nwahS ,

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arrived in London this morning from Madrid. P ASCOE . (Reading thermometer.) Temperature 104-1/2. Pulse is 140—and weak. I must have some boiling water. C ARVE . (At a loss.) What for? P ASCOE . What for? For a poultice. C ARVE . (Helplessly.there isn't any ... we've nothing except this spirit-lamp.) But (Pointing to lamp on table.) P ASCOE . No women in the house? C ARVE . (humour that the doctor declines to see.With ) Not one. P ASCOE . (Controlling his exasperation.) Never mind. I'll run round to the surgery and get my hypodermic. (To   S HAWN ,reassuringly and deferentially.) I shall be back at once, Mr. Carve. (To   C ARVE ,near door.) Keep your master well covered up—I suppose you can do that? (Exit.) C ARVE Shawn, my poor fellow, he takes you for the illustrious Ilam Carve. This. is what comes of me rushing out in shirt sleeves. (Gesture of despair.) I can't explain it to him. S HAWN . But—— C ARVE be infinitely better looked after, you know, and I shall. It's all right. You'll be saved from their infernal curiosity. S HAWN . It's only this, sir. I was half-expecting a young lady to-night, sir (very feebly). At least, I believe she's young. C ARVE . Shawn, I've always suspected you were a bad lot. Now I know. I also know why you were so devilish anxious to put me to bed early. What am I to say to this young lady on your behalf? (S HAWN   worse, too ill to answer. Pause. Re-enter   D R . P ASCOE ,very rapidly, with a large tumbler half-full of hot liquid.) P ASCOE . You may say I've been quick. (As he bends down to   S HAWN ,addressing C ARVE .) Get me a wine glass of clean cold water. (To   S HAWN .) Now, please. I want you to drink a little brandy and water. (S HAWN   makes no response.) By Jove! (The doctor pours some of the brandy and water down   S HAWN ' S   throat.) C ARVE . (Who has been wandering about vaguely.) I don't think we've got a wine glass. There's a cup, but I suppose that isn't medical enough. P ASCOE . (Taking a syringe from his pocket and unscrewing it.) Pour some water in it. (C ARVE   obeys.) Now, hold it. C ARVE . (Indicating syringe.) What is this device?P ASCOE . This device? I'm going to get some strychnine into him by injection. Steady with that cup, now!

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(Pascoe drops a tablet into the syringe and screws it up again, draws a little water up into the syringe and shakes the syringe. Then he goes to   S HAWN   to make the injection, on the top side of the patient's forearm.   C ARVE   still holds the cup out mechanically.) P ASCOE . I've done with that cup. C ARVE . (Putting the cup down.Might I ask what's the matter with him?) P ASCOE . Pneumonia is the matter. (Noise of some one in the hall.) C ARVE . (Startled.) Surely that's some one in the hall. P ASCOE my assistant. I left the door open on. Keep perfectly calm, my man. It's purpose for him. He's got the poultice and things. (In a loud voice as he finishes the injection.) Come along, come along there. This way. (Enter   E DWARD  H ORNING   with poultice, lint, bandages, etc.) P ASCOE . Found the antiphlogistine? E DWARD . Yes. (patient, and exchanges a glance withHe looks at   P ASCOE .) P ASCOE . Where's the bedroom? C ARVE . There's one there. (Pointing to double doors.) P ASCOE . (To   H ORNING .) We'll get him into bed now. (To   C ARVE .) Bed ready? C ARVE Yes. I—I think he was just making it up.. P ASCOE . (Startled.Does he make up his own bed?) C ARVE . (Perceiving the mistake, but resuming his calm.) Always. P ASCOE . (Controlling his astonishment; looking through double doors and opening them wider. To   H ORNING .) Yes, this will do. Put those things down here a minute while we lift him. (P ASCOE   and   H ORNING   then carry the inanimate form of   S HAWN   into the room behind, while   C ARVE   hovers about uselessly.) C ARVE . Can I do anything? P ASCOE . (Indicating a chair furthest away from the double doors.) You see that chair? C ARVE . I see it. P ASCOE . Go and sit on it.

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(Exeunt P ASCOE  and H ORNING ,back, closing double door's.) (After walking about,C ARVE   sits down on another chair. A bell rings twice. He pays no attention. Then enter   J ANET  C ANNOT , L. C ARVE   jumps up, but is inarticulate, though very favourably   interested.) J ANET . (Smiling sympathetically.) I rang twice. C ARVE The bell must be out of order.. J ANET . I couldn't be sure, but I don't think it's the bell that's out of order. C ARVE . Oh! You think I'm out of order. J ANET that you'd only just come into the house—all you. No. I was thinking famous folk—and you hadn't quite got it straight yet—as it were. (Looking vaguely at room.) C ARVE . All we famous folk? J ANET . Well—I don't know myself about that sort of thing. C ARVE . What sort of thing? J ANET real pictures done by hand, coloured—. Picture-painting, isn't it? I mean — C ARVE . Ah—yes. J ANET . (After a slight pause.) It struck me all of a sudden, while I was waiting at the door, that it might have been left open on purpose. C ARVE . The front door? On purpose? What for? J ANET . Oh—for some one particular to walk in without any fuss. So in I stepped. C ARVE . You're the young lady that Mr. Shawn's expecting——(Going towards passage.) J ANET . (Stopping him.) It's shut now. You don't wanteverybodywalking in, do you? C ARVE . (Looking at   J ANET   with pleasure.) So you're the young lady—Mrs. —Miss—— J ANET . (Ignoring his questiona message you had for me?.) Was it C ARVE . No, no. Not a message.... But—the fact is, we're rather upset here for the moment. J ANET . Yes. Illness. C ARVE . Now, if it isn't an indiscreet question, howdidyou know that there was illness? J ANET . I was standin lookin at this house and wonderin whether I shouldn't

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do better to go right back home there and then. But "No," I said, "I've begun, and I'll go through with it."—Well, I was standing there when what should I see but a parlour maid pop up from the area steps next door, and she says to me over the railings, "The doctor's just been." Just like that, excited. So I said, "Thank you, miss." I hope it's nothing serious? C ARVE . Pneumonia. J ANET . Pneumonia. What a mercy! C ARVE . Mercy? J ANET it sensibly it's about the best illness anybody could have in. If you look at hot weather like this. You've got to keep them warm. The weather does it for you. If it was typhoid now, and you'd got to keep them cool—thatwould be awkward. Not but it passes me how anybody can catch pneumonia in August. C ARVE . Coming over from the Continent. J ANET . Oh! the Continent. It's not Mr. Shawn that's ill? C ARVE . (Hesitating.) Mr. Shawn? Oh no, no! It's Ilam Carve. J ANET . (Half whispering. Awed.) Oh,him! Poor thing. And nobody but men in the house. C ARVE . And who told youthat? J ANET . Well! (waves her hand to indicate the state of the room, smiling indulgentlyfor gentlemen when they have to manage for) I always feel sorry themselves, even if they're well and hearty. But when it comes to illness—I can't bear to think about it. Still, everybody has their own notions of comfort. And I've no doubt he'll very soon be better. C ARVE . You think he will? J ANET . (Blandly cheerful.) As a general rule, you may say that people do get better. That's my experience. Of course sometimes they take a longish time. And now and then one dies—else what use would cemeteries be? But as a general rule they're soon over it. Now am I going to see Mr. Shawn, or shall I— — C ARVE . Well, if youcouldcall again—— J ANET . You say you hadn't a message? C ARVE . Not precisely a message. But if you could call again—— J ANET . When? C ARVE . (Rather eagerly.) Any time. Any time. Soon. J ANET . Night after to-morrow? C ARVE . Why not morning? J ANET . Perhaps morning is safer. Thank you. Very well, then. Day after to- morrow.... I suppose Mr. Shawn has a rare fine situation here?

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C ARVE . (Shrugging his shoulders.) Nothing to complain of, if you ask me. (J ANET   offers her hand quite simply. The double doors open,C ARVE   looks alarmed.) J ANET . Thank you very much. I think I can open the front door myself. C ARVE . I say—you won't forget? J ANET . Well, what doyouthink? (Exit, L.) (Enter   D R . P ASCOE   through double doors.) P ASCOE . (At double doors, to   H ORNING   invisible behind.) Then there's no reason why the nurse at Edith Grove shouldn't come along here. H ORNING . (Off.) Yes. She'll be free in an hour. P ASCOE . All right. I'll look in there. H ORNING . (Nervous.) What am I to do if his respiration—— P ASCOE . (Interrupting.) Don't worry. I'm not gone yet. I must just clean up my hypodermic. Shut those doors. (H ORNING   obeys.) C ARVE . What's this about a nurse? P ASCOE . (Busy with syringe, water, and syringe-case.) I'm sending one in. (Ironically.) Do you see any objection? C ARVE to be treated with every care. He's. On the contrary, I should like him invaluable to me. P ASCOE . (Staggered.) Invaluable toyou! Of course in my line of business I get used to meeting odd people—— C ARVE . (Recovering from his mistake.) But you think I carry oddness rather far? P ASCOE . The idea did pass through my mind. C ARVE . Nervousness—nothing but nervousness. I'm very nervous. And then —you know the saying—like master, like man. P ASCOE . (Indicating back room with a gesture; in a slightly more confidential tone as   C ARVE ' S   personal attractiveness gains on him.) Mr. Carve odd? C ARVE . Oh, very. Always was. Ever since I've known him. You remember his first picture at the Academy? P ASCOE . No, not exactly. C ARVE . Either you remember it exactly or you don't remember it at all. Life-size

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picture of a policeman blowing his whistle. P ASCOE must have been odd, that must.. Yes; it C ARVE . Not a bit. The oddness of the fellow—— P ASCOE . What 'fellow'—your governor? C ARVE . (Nods.) His oddness came out in this way—although the thing had really a great success, from that day to this he's never painted another life-size picture of a policeman blowing his whistle. P ASCOE . I don't see anything very odd there—— C ARVE go in for art much. If you did, you'd. Don't you? Well, perhaps you don't know that the usual and correct thing for a painter who has made a great success with a life-size picture of a policeman blowing his whistle, is to keep on doing life-size pictures of a policeman blowing his whistle for ever and ever, so that the public can always count on getting from him a life-size picture of a policeman blowing his whistle. P ASCOE . I observe you are one of those comic valets. Nervousness again, no doubt. C ARVE . (Smiling and continuing.) Seeing the way he invariably flouted the public, it's always been a mystery to me how he managed to make a name, to say nothing of money. P ASCOE go in for art much, but I. Money! He must make pots. You say I don't always read the big sales at Christie's. Why, wasn't it that policeman picture that Lord Leonard Alcar bought for 2000 guineas last year? C ARVE . No, not Alcar. I think the bobby was last bought by Texel. P ASCOE . Texel? Who's Texel? C ARVE . Collector—United States—one of their kings, I'm told. P ASCOE . Oh, him! Controls all the ink in the United States. C ARVE what I should call influence. No. It was the "Pelicans. Really! That's feeding their Young" that Alcar bought. Four thousand. You're getting mixed up. P ASCOE . Perhaps I am. I know I'm constantly seeing Mr. Carve's name in connection with Lord Leonard Alcar's. It's a nice question which is the best known of the two. C ARVE . Then the—governor really is famous in England? You see we never come to England. P ASCOE . Famous—I should think he was. Aren't they always saying he's the finest colourist since Titian? And look at his prices! C ARVE . Yes. I've looked at his prices. Titian's prices are higher, but Titian isn't what you'd call famous with the general public, is he? What I want to know is —is the governor famous among the general public?

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P ASCOE . Yes. C ARVE . About how famous should you say he is? P ASCOE . (Hesitating.) Well—(abruptly) that's a silly question. C ARVE . No, it isn't. Is he as famous as—er—Harry Lauder? P ASCOE . (Shakes his head.) You mustn't go to extremes. C ARVE . Is he as famous as Harry Vardon? P ASCOE . Never heard of him. C ARVE . I only see these names in the papers. Is he as famous as Bernard Shaw? P ASCOE . Yes, I should say he was. C ARVE . Oh, well that's not so bad. Better than I thought! It's so difficult to judge where one is—er—personally concerned. Especially if you're never on the spot. P ASCOE . So it's true Mr. Carve never comes to England? C ARVE isn't a portrait painter. It's true he. Why should he come to England? He owns this house, but surely that isn't sufficient excuse for living in a place like England? P ASCOE . Of course, if you look at it like that, there's no particular attractiveness in England that I've ever seen. But that answer wouldn't satisfy Redcliffe Gardens. Redcliffe Gardens is persuaded that there must be a special reason. C ARVE . Well, there is. P ASCOE . (Interested, in spite of himself.) Indeed! C ARVE . (Confidentially.) Have a cigarette? (Offering case.) P ASCOE . (Staggered anew, but accepting.) That's a swagger case. C ARVE . Oh! (Calmly.) He gave it me. P ASCOE . Really? C ARVE . Well, you see we're more like brothers—been together so long. He gives me his best suits too. Look at this waistcoat. (Motions the hypnotised P ASCOE   to take a chair. They light their cigarettes.) (Enter   H ORNING .) P ASCOE . (Somewhat impatient.) He's not worse already? H ORNING . Where's that brandy and water? P ASCOE . Be careful. He's had about enough of that. H ORNING no dinner yet—I thought it might suit me. (. Seeing I've had Exit with tumbler.)