Harold Brighouse

“ As the curtain rises the room is in darkness, except for the glow from the fire, and the telephone bell right is ringing. After a moment's pause the outside door opens; then Peter in a lounge suit, overcoat, and bowler hat opens the door right and turns on the electric light. He speaks as he looks off right. His self-confidence has increased. He is, in fact, coarsened and even brazen at times.
Peter. Come in here. (Freddie and Gladys follow him in. Peter stands by door.) Make yourselves at home for two minutes. That's my telephone ringing like mad. ”

“ Garside is a working-class woman of 50, greyhaired, slight, with red toil-worn hands and a face expressive of resignation marred by occasional petulance, dressed in a rough serge skirt, dark print blouse, elastic-sided boots, and a white apron. She sits in the rocking-chair, watching the cheap alarm-clock fretfully. Outside a boy is heard calling "Last Edishun." She rises hastily, feels on the mantelpiece for her purse, opens the door centre and buys a paper from the boy who appears through the doorway. ”

“ He doesn't go deep and he likes money, but he is on good terms with the world and doesn't mind a little trouble or even unconventionality to put the world on good terms with him. He is fair, with fair moustache, and his figure is that of the ex-athlete who could still give a good account of himself. He leans back in the arm-chair, yawning and consulting his watch, glancing at Gladys, entrenched behind her book, again yawning and making up his mind to address her. ”

“ Peter tries not to look angry at the intrusion of domestic details. Exit Mrs. Garside. Peter closes the door and stands by it. Gladys is still in the revolving chair with her back to the table.
Peter. Yes. Fate didn't mean us two to miss each other.
Glad, (lightly) . Do you believe in Fate?
Peter. I believe in mine. I know I was born under a lucky star. I've a genius for overcoming obstacles, no matter what they are, Miss Mottram. I've the knack of getting what I want.
Glad. Don't you find continuous success monotonous?
Peter (smiling) . They're such precious small successes. ”

“ The door centre opens and Margaret Shawcross enters. She is young, dark, with a face beautiful in expression rather than feature. It is the face of an idealist, one who would go through fire and water for the faith that is in her.
She is a school teacher, speaking with an educated voice in a slightly apparent northern accent, dressed neatly and serviceably.
Mrs. Garside turns eagerly as she enters and is disappointed on seeing Margaret.
Mrs. Gar. Oh, it's you. I thought it might be——
Mar. (closing door, sympathetically) . Yes. But it's too early to expect Peter back yet. ”

“ Peter. I'm sure you always do what you ought, so——
(Putting his hand to the door-handle.)
Glad. (quickly) . Yes, I do—in Midlandton.
Peter (turning quickly from door) . And this is London. You're on holiday.
Glad, (checking him) . But not from my conscience, Mr. Garside.
Peter. Oh, conscience is so much a matter of climate. A Midlandton conscience finds London air very relaxing.
Glad, (sitting slowly right as before) . I don't think you ought to disturb your mother, Mr. Garside.
Peter (resuming his own chair, with conscious hypocrisy) . No. Old people need such a lot of sleep. ”

“ That's my work, comrades, not wasting my energy, my gift of oratory on the canting hypocrites at Westminster, but keeping them fresh for the honest man outside. I'm going to quarter England, town by town, until——
Ned (rising, and putting his hand on Peter's arm, shaking his head) . It won't do, Garsidc.
Jones. You needn't wag that silver tongue at us. You're found out.
Peter. Found out! You can't find out a man you're incapable of understanding. You can't drive genius with a bearing rein. I'm a man of genius, and you're angry because I can't be a cog in the parliamentary machine. ”

“ Mar. Good night, Lady Mottram. (She moves towards door. Freddie opens it, she turns back.) No, I won't go like this. You'd have the right to tell me I deceived you. (Freddie closes door and stands centre.) I can't take your warning, Lady Mottram. (Lady M. rises.) I dare say it's kindly meant. I thank you for that. But as for stopping speaking, working heart and soul for the cause that's all in all to me, I can't do that.
Lady M. Can't? Won't, you mean. This is defiance, Miss Shawcross. You'd better take care.
Mar. (splendidly contemptuous) . Care! Life isn't all taking care. ”

“ If I turned myself into a human gramophone, I shouldn't boast about it, Mr. Garside. It's not very creditable to live by fooling the public.
Peter (rising) . Creditable? If I fooled them from Fleet Street they'd make me a peer. The public likes to be fooled. They know I'm fooling them. They pay me to go on fooling them. Some men live by selling adulterated beer. I live by selling adulterated truth.
Glad. And neither makes an honest livelihood.
Peter. No, neither your father the brewer, nor I the demagogue. But I'm being frank with you, Miss Mottram. ”

“ You must find London a great change after Midlandton, Mrs. Garside.
Mrs. G. (sitting in left arm-chair, facing her—confidentially) . I haven't had an easy hour since Peter brought me. You wouldn't believe the prices they charge me in the shops if I want a chop or a bit of steak for Peter's tea. Dinner he calls it now, though how it can be dinner at seven of an evening I don't know. Thieves, that's what they are. Not shopkeepers. You mustn't mind me running on, I haven't a soul I know to talk to here. It's a pleasure to see you, I'm sure. And the streets! I'm feared for my life if I go out. ”

“ Garside sits in the rocking-chair, aloof, watching.
Mar. At twenty-six, Peter?
Peter (turning) . That's my tragedy. Waste. At twenty-six I'm looking backward on a closed account. The future's blank—all the brilliant fruitful years I might have lived.
Mar. That you will live, Peter.
Peter (sitting left of table, elbows on table and head in hands) . Oh, what's the use of that? I'm finished. Out, middle stump. And there's no second innings in life.
O'Cal. Isn't there? Don't the people need you just as much as ever?
Peter (without turning to him) . ”

“ Peter wavers visibly when Gladys interposes.
Glad. Mr. Garside is our guest.
Jones (more roughly still) . Come away.
Peter (his mind made up) . I shall do nothing of the sort.
Jones. Don't you understand? It's imperative. They're calling for you. We've done our best, marking time, promising them every minute you'd come—and you don't come. It's serious. They're impatient. They don't want us others. They want you— (sarcastically) —silver-tongued Garside. We can't hold them much longer. There'll be a riot if you don't turn up.
Peter (lightly) . Oh, I'll come soon. Let them wait. ”

“ Fred. (sweeping his hat round) . On all this.
Peter (still puzzled) . This?
Fred. This jolly little place, and so on.
Peter. Oh, that's nothing. Part of the game, my boy.
Fred. It's a profitable game when you can run to this after six months of it.
Peter. It doesn't afford it. Did you ever hear of the hire system? A man who means to be a big success simply must have a decent address and be on the telephone. People won't believe in you if you're content to hide yourself up a mean street.
Fred. But you are a big success, Mr. Garside.
Peter. Oh, I've not arrived yet. I'm ambitious. ”

“ People in deadly earnest usually are.
Glad, (gently) . We'll forget what you said, Mr. Garside.
Peter. No, we won't. I can't ask you to marry me yet because I am not rich. I'm merely prospering. But I ask you to wait. Give me a year—no, six months. I can offer you a home in London then. It won't be worthy of you, but we shan't stagnate. May I come to you in six months' time to get your answer to the question I haven't yet the right to ask?
Glad. I don't know.
Peter. No. Rut I know six months of Midlandton are longer than six years here. You badly want to live in London now. ”

“ Peter (hotly) . I haven't sown wild oats. I'm not that sort of man. (Hesitating.) Unless you mean——
Mar. I didn't, but I might have done.
Peter (sitting, sullenly) . I wish there were no such things as women in the world!
Mar. The bi-sexual system has its disadvantages. But we'll forget Miss Mottram, Peter. That was a private indiscretion. You sowed your wild oats publicly in the fierce light that beats upon a politician. That was the arrogance of youth.
Peter. I'm not so young as you.
Mar. No. Youth is a gift we both possess. I don't intend to waste mine, Peter.
Peter. No? ”

“ Afraid I must toddle, Garside. I've an appointment.
Peter (his face falling in deep disappointment) . Appointment! Oh, I did hope you'd both stay a bit. In fact, I—I put off an engagement while I was at the telephone.
Fred, (looking at Gladys) . Well—er—I might come back for my sister.
Peter (enthusiastically) . Splendid! Have something before you go?
Fred (surprised) . Eh?
Peter (taking his arm) . Just to keep the cold out. Next room.
Fred, (turning with him) . I'd an idea you were a teetotaller.
Peter. I was a lot of things in Midlandton. In London I'm a man of the world. ”

“ Garside.
Peter. I mean to succeed. I feel I'm one of the men who do succeed. (He doesn't boast, he states a conviction.)
Glad. (insincerely) . I'm sure you are.
Peter (ardently) . If you're sure, there's no doubt about it. I'm going to rise, Miss Mottram. I shall win fame, fortune—— Everything the heart of woman can desire will be mine to fling at the feet of my... my inspiration of the Midlandton election. ”

“ Fred, crosses and closes window. Faint murmur only is audible off.
Fred. I can't stand this. He's spouting Socialism from our balcony. (Angrily.) This is your fault, Gladys.
Glad. I was told to keep him here. ”

“ Margaret shrinks back still further.
Mrs. G. (going round to him) . Peter! My son a Member of Parliament!
Peter (repulsing her) . No, no, I'm not worthy.
Ned. We're the best judges of that.
Peter (firmly) . I'm too young. I'd be the youngest man in the Labour Party.
Jones. Someone's got to be that. They need young blood. There's too much antideluvian trades unionism about the old gang.
O'Cal. It's a queer thing you do be saying, and you without a grey hair to your head. It's a queer thing to hear a young man making moan beeause he's young. ”

“ Peter Garside, the Board School boy, the working engineer with a home in a back street—a great gulf yawned between that Garside of the past and the daughter of Sir Jasper Mottram, four times Mayor of Midlandton. The gulf is narrower to-day. In a year or two it won't exist. I'm not impertinent, Miss Mottram. I'm being bold enough to look into the future... the future you've inspired. ”

“ I see. You're marrying into one of the big political families.
Peter. No. I'm showing you how you can be done with Midlandton and get to London. You said you'd do anything for that.
Glad. I meant anything in reason. Shall we change the subject?
Peter. No.
Gladys (rising, curtly) . Then I must go back to the hotel.
Peter. Your brother's coming for you. Meantime I ask you to remember the difference between the Peter Garside of six months ago and the Garside of to-day. I've bridged the gulf that lay between us. A man of genius can do things like that. I meant what I said, Miss Mottram. ”

“ I haven't worked for Socialism without knowing the risks I took. There's nothing unusual in this. Since Socialism's been the bogey of the employing class, dismissal for Socialists is an everyday occurrence. ”

“ Garside.
Mrs. G. (irritably) . Calm? How can I be calm? I'm on edge till I know. (Rocking her chair quickly.)
Mar. (trying to soothe her) . It isn't as if he can't try again if he's not through this time.
Mrs. G. (confidently, keeping her chair still) . He'll have no need to try again. I've a son and his name this night is Peter Garside, b.a. I know he's through.
Mar. (sitting in chair lift of table) . Then if you're sure——
Mrs. G. Yes. I know I'm a fidget. I want to hear it from his own lips. He's worked so hard he can't fail. (Accusingly.) You don't believe me, Margaret. ”

“ Peter (growing increasingly hysterical) . The facts are that I'm a Member of the House of Commons for the term of this Parliament, and you can't force me to resign until I do it of my own free will. I'm still M.P. for Midlandton, if I've to sleep on the Embankment. I'll go to the House in rags. I'll be an M.P. still, M.P. for the outcast, the despised, the rejected, the human derelicts, victims of jealousy and injustice and all man's inhumanity to man.
Jones (contemptuously) . You're the victim of nothing but your own swelled head.
Peter. I'm the victim of my own great nature. ”

“ Peter. A hundred days to every week are not enough.
Ned. We sent you to Parliament to obey the Party Whips and be governed by older and wiser heads than yours.
Peter. Nelson won battles by disobeying orders. If you didn't want independence you shouldn't have chosen me.
Jones. We see that now. You'd ceased to be representative of the Midlandton working classes before we chose you for our candidate. You were a B.A. You're still less able to represent us now when you make as much in a month as your average constituent does in a year. We'll have a better man next time. ”