The G. Bernard Shaw Collection: Plays, Novels, Personal Letters, Articles, Lectures & Essays. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW
PROLOGUE
I
Moncrief House, Panley Common. Scholastic establishment for the sons of gentlemen, etc.
Panley Common, viewed from the back windows of Moncrief House, is a tract of grass, furze and rushes, stretching away to the western horizon.
One wet spring afternoon the sky was full of broken clouds, and the common was swept by their shadows, between which patches of green and yellow gorse were bright in the broken sunlight. The hills to the northward were obscured by a heavy shower, traces of which were drying off the slates of the school, a square white building, formerly a gentleman’s countryhouse. In front of it was a well-kept lawn with a few clipped holly-trees. At the rear, a quarter of an acre of land was enclosed for the use of the boys. Strollers on the common could hear, at certain hours, a hubbub of voices and racing footsteps from within the boundary wall. Sometimes, when the strollers were boys themselves, they climbed to the coping, and saw on the other side a piece of common trampled bare and brown, with a few square yards of concrete, so worn into hollows as to be unfit for its original use as a ball-alley. Also a long shed, a pump, a door defaced by innumerable incised inscriptions, the back of the house in much worse repair than the front, and about fifty boys in tailless jackets and broad, turned-down collars. When the fifty boys perceived a stranger on the wall they rushed to the spot with a wild halloo, overwhelmed him with insult and defiance, and dislodged him by a volley of clods, stones, lumps of bread, and such other projectiles as were at hand.
On this rainy spring afternoon a brougham stood at the door of Moncrief House. The coachman, enveloped in a white indiarubber coat, was bestirring himself a little after the recent shower. Within-doors, in the drawingroom, Dr. Moncrief was conversing with a stately lady aged about thirty-five, elegantly dressed, of attractive manner, and only falling short of absolute beauty in her complexion, which was deficient in freshness.
“No progress whatever, I am sorry to say,” the doctor was remarking.
“That is very disappointing,” said the lady, contracting her brows.
“It is natural that you should feel disappointed,” replied the doctor. “I would myself earnestly advise you to try the effect of placing him at some other—” The doctor stopped. The lady’s face had lit up with a wonderful smile, and she had raised her hand with a bewitching gesture of protest.
“Oh, no, Dr. Moncrief,” she said. “I am not disappointed with YOU; but I am all the more angry with Cashel, because I know that if he makes no progress with you it must be his own fault. As to taking him away, that is out of the question. I should not have a moment’s peace if he were out of your care. I will speak to him very seriously about his conduct before I leave to-day. You will give him another trial, will you not?”
“Certainly. With the greatest pleasure,” exclaimed the doctor, confusing himself by an inept attempt at gallantry. “He shall stay as long as you please. But” — here the doctor became grave again— “you cannot too strongly urge upon him the importance of hard work at the present time, which may be said to be the turning-point of his career as a student. He is now nearly seventeen; and he has so little inclination for study that I doubt whether he could pass the examination necessary to entering one of the universities. You probably wish him to take a degree before he chooses a profession.”
“Yes, of course,” said the lady, vaguely, evidently assenting to the doctor’s remark rather than expressing a conviction of her own. “What profession would you advise for him? You know so much better than I.”
“Hum!” said Dr. Moncrief, puzzled. “That would doubtless depend to some extent on his own taste—”
“Not at all,” said the lady, interrupting him with vivacity. “What does he know about the world, poor boy? His own taste is sure to be something ridiculous. Very likely he would want to go on the stage, like me.”
“Oh! Then you would not encourage any tendency of that sort?”
“Most decidedly not. I hope he has no such idea.”
“Not that I am aware of. He shows so little ambition to excel in any particular branch that I should say his choice of a profession may be best determined by his parents. I am, of course, ignorant whether his relatives possess influence likely to be of use to him. That is often the chief point to be considered, particularly in cases like your son’s, where no special aptitude manifests itself.”
“I am the only relative he ever had, poor fellow,” said the lady, with a pensive smile. Then, seeing an expression of astonishment on the doctor’s face, she added, quickly, “They are all dead.”
“Dear me!”
“However,” she continued, “I have no doubt I can make plenty of interest for him. But it is difficult to get anything nowadays without passing competitive examinations. He really must work. If he is lazy he ought to be punished.”
The doctor looked perplexed. “The fact is,” he said, “your son can hardly be dealt with as a child any longer. He is still quite a boy in his habits and ideas; but physically he is rapidly springing up into a young man. That reminds me of another point on which I will ask you to speak earnestly to him. I must tell you that he has attained some distinction among his schoolfellows here as an athlete. Within due bounds I do not discourage bodily exercises: they are a recognized part of our system. But I am sorry to say that Cashel has not escaped that tendency to violence which sometimes results from the possession of unusual strength and dexterity. He actually fought with one of the village youths in the main street of Panley some months ago. The matter did not come to my ears immediately; and, when it did, I allowed it to pass unnoticed,