60 Plays: The George Bernard Shaw Edition (Illustrated). GEORGE BERNARD SHAW
(beaming). Claret cup, ma’am! Certainly, ma’am.
GLORIA Oh, well I’ll have a claret cup instead of coffee. Put some cucumber in it.
WAITER (delighted). Cucumber, miss! yes, miss. (To Bohun.) Anything special for you, sir? You don’t like cucumber, sir.
BOHUN. If Mrs. Clandon will allow me — syphon — Scotch.
WAITER. Right, sir. (To Crampton.) Irish for you, sir, I think, sir? (Crampton assents with a grunt. The waiter looks enquiringly at Valentine.)
VALENTINE. I like the cucumber.
WAITER. Right, sir. (Summing up.) Claret cup, syphon, one Scotch and one Irish?
MRS. CLANDON. I think that’s right.
WAITER (perfectly happy). Right, ma’am. Directly, ma’am. Thank you. (He ambles off through the window, having sounded the whole gamut of human happiness, from the bottom to the top, in a little over two minutes.)
McCOMAS. We can begin now, I suppose?
BOHUN. We had better wait until Mrs. Clandon’s husband arrives.
CRAMPTON. What d’y’ mean? I’m her husband.
BOHUN (instantly pouncing on the inconsistency between this and his previous statement). You said just now your name was Crampton.
CRAMPTON. So it is.
MRS. CLANDON } (all four { I —
GLORIA } speaking { My —
McCOMAS } simul- { Mrs. —
VALENTINE } taneously). { You —
BOHUN (drowning them in two thunderous words). One moment. (Dead silence.) Pray allow me. Sit down everybody. (They obey humbly. Gloria takes the saddlebag chair on the hearth. Valentine slips around to her side of the room and sits on the ottoman facing the window, so that he can look at her. Crampton sits on the ottoman with his back to Valentine’s. Mrs. Clandon, who has all along kept at the opposite side of the room in order to avoid Crampton as much as possible, sits near the door, with McComas beside her on her left. Bohun places himself magisterially in the centre of the group, near the corner of the table on Mrs. Clandon’s side. When they are settled, he fixes Crampton with his eye, and begins.) In this family, it appears, the husband’s name is Crampton: the wife’s Clandon. Thus we have on the very threshold of the case an element of confusion.
VALENTINE (getting up and speaking across to him with one knee on the ottoman). But it’s perfectly simple.
BOHUN (annihilating him with a vocal thunderbolt). It is. Mrs. Clandon has adopted another name. That is the obvious explanation which you feared I could not find out for myself. You mistrust my intelligence, Mr. Valentine — (Stopping him as he is about to protest.) No: I don’t want you to answer that: I want you to think over it when you feel your next impulse to interrupt me.
VALENTINE (dazed). This is simply breaking a butterfly on a wheel. What does it matter? (He sits down again.)
BOHUN. I will tell you what it matters, sir. It matters that if this family difference is to be smoothed over as we all hope it may be, Mrs. Clandon, as a matter of social convenience and decency, will have to resume her husband’s name. (Mrs. Clandon assumes an expression of the most determined obstinacy.) Or else Mr. Crampton will have to call himself Mr. Clandon. (Crampton looks indomitably resolved to do nothing of the sort.) No doubt you think that an easy matter, Mr. Valentine. (He looks pointedly at Mrs. Clandon, then at Crampton.) I differ from you. (He throws himself back in his chair, frowning heavily.)
McCOMAS (timidly). I think, Bohun, we had perhaps better dispose of the important questions first.
BOHUN. McComas: there will be no difficulty about the important questions. There never is. It is the trifles that will wreck you at the harbor mouth. (McComas looks as if he considered this a paradox.) You don’t agree with me, eh?
McCOMAS (flatteringly). If I did —
BOHUN (interrupting him). If you did, you would be me, instead of being what you are.
McCOMAS (fawning on him). Of course, Bohun, your specialty —
BOHUN (again interrupting him). My specialty is being right when other people are wrong. If you agreed with me I should be of no use here. (He nods at him to drive the point home; then turns suddenly and forcibly on Crampton.) Now you, Mr. Crampton: what point in this business have you most at heart?
CRAMPTON (beginning slowly). I wish to put all considerations of self aside in this matter —
BOHUN (interrupting him). So do we all, Mr. Crampton. (To Mrs. Clandon.) Y o u wish to put self aside, Mrs. Clandon?
MRS. CLANDON. Yes: I am not consulting my own feelings in being here.
BOHUN. So do you, Miss Clandon?
GLORIA. Yes.
BOHUN. I thought so. We all do.
VALENTINE. Except me. My aims are selfish.
BOHUN. That’s because you think an impression of sincerity will produce a better effect on Miss Clandon than an impression of disinterestedness. (Valentine, utterly dismantled and destroyed by this just remark, takes refuge in a feeble, speechless smile. Bohun, satisfied at having now effectually crushed all rebellion, throws himself back in his chair, with an air of being prepared to listen tolerantly to their grievances.) Now, Mr. Crampton, go on. It’s understood that self is put aside. Human nature always begins by saying that.
CRAMPTON. But I mean it, sir.
BOHUN. Quite so. Now for your point.
CRAMPTON. Every reasonable person will admit that it’s an unselfish one — the children.
BOHUN. Well? What about the children?
CRAMPTON (with emotion). They have —
BOHUN (pouncing forward again). Stop. You’re going to tell me about your feelings, Mr. Crampton. Don’t: I sympathize with them; but they’re not my business. Tell us exactly what you want: that’s what we have to get at.
CRAMPTON (uneasily). It’s a very difficult question to answer, Mr. Bohun.
BOHUN. Come: I’ll help you out. What do you object to in the present circumstances of the children?
CRAMPTON. I object to the way they have been brought up.
BOHUN. How do you propose to alter that now?
CRAMPTON. I think they ought to dress more quietly.
VALENTINE. Nonsense.
BOHUN (instantly flinging himself back in his chair, outraged by the interruption). When you are done, Mr. Valentine — when you are quite done.
VALENTINE. What’s wrong with Miss Clandon’s dress?
CRAMPTON (hotly to Valentine). My opinion is as good as yours.
GLORIA (warningly). Father!
CRAMPTON (subsiding piteously). I didn’t mean you, my dear. (Pleading earnestly to Bohun.) But the two younger ones! you have not seen them, Mr. Bohun; and indeed I think you would agree with me that there is something very noticeable, something almost gay and frivolous in their style of dressing.
MRS. CLANDON (impatiently). Do you suppose I choose their clothes for them? Really this is childish.
CRAMPTON (furious, rising). Childish! (Mrs. Clandon rises indignantly.)
McCOMAS } (all ris- } Crampton, you promised —
VALENTINE } ing and } Ridiculous. They dress
} speaking } charmingly.
GLORIA } together). } Pray let us behave reasonably.
Tumult. Suddenly they hear a chime of glasses in the room behind them. They turn in silent surprise and find that the waiter has just come back from the bar in the garden, and is jingling his tray warningly as he comes