Collected Plays and Teleplays (Irish Literature) (10 page)

SHAW:
I haven’t finished with you yet, Kelly. Impertinent language won’t help you.

KELLY:
And I haven’t finished with you. Indeed I haven’t started yet. You will not be the first pup in this town that I put in his box.

SHAW:
(
Looking at
KILSHAUGHRAUN,
who is puffing contentedly in the armchair.
) I happen to be a brother of the lady who owns this house—

KELLY:
And who ordered you to clear out of it a moment ago.

SHAW:
I happen to be a brother of the householder. My name is Shaw. May I ask who you are?

SHAWN:
(
Smiling genially.
) Me, avic? (
He rises.
) Ah, isn’t it a terrible thing to hear anybody in Ireland asking who Shawn Kilshaughraun is? Mr. Shaw. (
He takes
SHAW
by the hand, catching the arm by the elbow at the same time with his other hand.
) Mr. Shaw, you are shaking hands with Shawn Kilshaughraun, an humble . . . hard-working . . . good-hearted . . . mimber of the historic Irish nation.

SHAW:
(
Taken aback and shaking his hand free.
) Glad to meet you, I am sure.

TOWN CLERK:
(
‘Introducing’
CULLEN
.) This is another mimber of the gineral public like meself. (
He turns to
REILLY,
who is skulking in the background.
) And this is Mr. Reilly.

SHAW:
Hullo, Reilly. What on earth brings you here?

REILLY:
(
Coming forward defiantly.
) I just dropped in to tell the Chairman that there’s an inspector from the Department in the town. He’s above in the hotel and he’s down to smell out the ready-up about the rate collector or my name isn’t Reilly.

TOWN CLERK:
Begob, Chairman, if there’s an Inspictor in the town, my place is me office. (
He grabs his hat.
) My place is me office. I’ll see yez all later. You too, Mr. Bernard Shaw! (
He hurries out.
)

KELLY:
(
Sneering.
) Huh! I notice that you’re already acquainted with this distinguished visitor. By God, I see it all now. I know who my detractor and persecutor is.

CULLEN:
Won’t somebody tell me what’s going on in this house? What’s the trouble, Mr. Shaw?

KELLY:
The man’s out of his mind, Tom.

SHAW:
This man Kelly, if you must know, is a low swine who has destroyed my sister’s good name and robbed her.

CULLEN:
What?

KELLY:
You heard that, Tom?

CULLEN:
(
To
SHAW
.) You must be off your head, man.

KELLY:
You heard that, Tom? Make a good note of it. Mark it and note it well because your testimony on it will be required at another place and at another time.

CULLEN:
(
Amazed, to
SHAW
.) But surely, man, you’re not serious? Sure if the Chairman wants to court your sister, hasn’t he every right to?

SHAW:
If you don’t mind, I’ll be the judge of any matter affecting the honour of my family and the right of my sister to regulate her own life. (
Sneering.
) And her bank balance, too.

CULLEN:
My God, you must be crazy!

KELLY:
Listen, Tom, pay no attention. The man glories in calumny and detraction. I ask you, Tom, to make a note of everything that is said here. Not forgetting the part played by our mutual friend,

Mr. Reilly.

CULLEN:
What has he been doing? What’s this about, Martin?

REILLY:
(
Coming forward and standing near
SHAW
,
facing
KELLY
.) Do I have to ask leave from you to attend to me own private affairs? I don’t give a snap of me fingers for you or any other twister. And you won’t get away with your ready-up about the rate collector and don’t think it.

KELLY:
(
Throwing out his hands and turning his eyes to heaven.
) Ah, this poor man, this poor misguided man!

SHAW:
Sanctimonious nonsense of that kind will avail you nothing. I’m going to smash you up in this town, you rotter!

CULLEN:
(
Horrified, crossing the stage to the left, where
KELLY
and
SHAWN
are, leaving
SHAW
and
REILLY
together on right.
) Listen, Shawn, can’t we do something in the name of God about this? This is awful and a reflection on the whole lot of us.

SHAWN:
(
Puffing happily.
) I do, I do, I do. ‘Tis reminiscent of me own stormy . . . hard . . . advinturous election days when Shawn Kilshaughraun stood out alone against the besht brains in the country. Sure, ‘tis many a row the Chairman will have before he reaches the free Parliament of the Irish people.

SHAW:
(
To
SHAWN
.) Many a row after he reaches there? I’ll see that he’s kicked out at this election even if I have to go up against him myself.

REILLY:
(
Astonished.
) Go up yourself?

SHAW:
(
Staring at
REILLY
.
There is a pause.
) And perhaps it’s not a bad idea at that. Perhaps it’s not a bad idea at that! Why shouldn’t I go up against him? WHY SHOULDN’T I?

REILLY:
Are you gone crazy, man?

CULLEN:
(
Flabbergasted.
) You go up? You a T.D.?

KELLY:
(
To
SHAWN
.) I told you the man wasn’t right in the head. I told you.

SHAW:
(
Pleased with himself, looking to each of them in turn.
) Why shouldn’t I go up? I’m Irish, aren’t I? I’m Irish. I have the money. Why shouldn’t I go up and expose and defeat this rotter on his own ground? What do you say, Mr. Reilly?

REILLY:
(
Puzzled.
) Well, begob, Mr. Shaw, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to say. (
He scratches his head in perplexity.
) Begob, maybe you wouldn’t be the last man in the world to be appointed.

SHAW:
(
Pleased.
) D’you know, I think I will go up. I think I will go up.

SHAWN:
Begob now, three candidates would make it a grand . . . fine . . . heart-rending . . . pulsating election fight. (
He rubs his hands gleefully.
)

SHAW:
(
Beginning to pace and think.
) Yes. Quite. Quite . . .

REILLY:
Begob, if you’re not coddin’ about going up you’ll have to look snappy. You haven’t much time left. You’ll have to get your committee goin’ and get good substantial men to nominate you, and get posters printed. And all that takes money—bags of money. Could you put your hands in you pocket for a thousand pounds?

SHAW:
(
Still thinking.
) I have the funds, old boy, I have the funds.

SHAWN:
Yerrah, sure Mr. Shaw has the stuff. I’d know that to take wan look at him.

KELLY:
Lord save us, the next thing you’ll see me doing is laughing. LAUGHING! (
He gives a long forced hollow guffaw.
) The idea of it! The idea of it!

SHAWN:
Yerrah, boy, if he wants to go up isn’t he entitled.

KELLY:
(
Half to himself.
) The idea of it! The idea! And something tells me that if this lunatic goes up, it certainly won’t do me any harm. Listen, Shawn . . .

(
He goes over and begins to converse
sotto voce
with
SHAWN
.
The only audible portion of the latter’s replies is the phrase ‘I do, I do.
’)

REILLY:
(
Rubbing his hands together.
) Begob, do you know, Mr. Shaw, I think you’re the man we’re all looking for. I think you’d be a good match for all the political rogues we have in this bloody country. I think you’d know how to down-face the bastards and clean up all this dirty jobbery and back-door stuff.

SHAW:
I’m Irish, anyhow—born within two miles of this town.

REILLY:
(
To
SHAW
,
confidentially.
) Listen here, Mr. Shaw. You say you’re Irish and that you come from this part of the country. Well, you speak like a man that spent a long time across the water. Tell me this. Maybe you changed your colours like a lot more when you were over there. The people here wouldn’t like that at all. Are you an R.C. still or did you learn to dig with the wrong foot?

SHAW:
Don’t be an ass, old man. I was born a Roman Catholic, and please God when I am called I will still be a Roman Catholic.

REILLY:
(
Loudly and jubilantly.
) Ah, well, that’s all right. If you’re an R.C., that’s all right. That’s grand. Grand.

CULLEN:
Are you seriously going up or is all this a joke?

REILLY:
Of course he’s going up.

SHAW:
I haven’t the pleasure of your acquaintance nor do I know your name, sir, but I may——

REILLY:
Cullen. His name is Cullen. Tom Cullen and he’s not the worst.

SHAW:
Ao. Mr. Cullen? (
Bowing.
) Glad to meet you, I am sure. I may tell you this much, Mr. Cullen. I am going up for election. Even if I never took my seat and never attended a single meeting of the Irish House of Commons in Dublin, I would still be doing the people of this country a great service. Do you know why?

REILLY:
Why?

SHAW:
Because by presenting myself for the election I would be saving them from that ruffian (
his voice rises and he points at
KELLY
) —that impostor of a publican. No matter how it is done or what it costs me, I will save the people from that gentleman.

REILLY:
(
Cynically.
) Good man yourself. Well spoken!

(
KELLY
has begun to glare at
SHAW
angrily and now walks over to confront him.
)

SHAWN:
The blood is up. The election blood is up. I do, I do. (
Pause.
)

KELLY:
God in His mercy has so far given me the grace to keep my temper and I do not intend to lose it now. The golden virtue of control—control of self—is a thing I have always endeavoured to practise. I intend to persevere in that. I will not let a person of your type deflect me from that purpose. But this much I will say. This much I will permit myself. In a lifetime extending over a period close on fifty years I have never had the misfortune to encounter a person who is a greater pup, a greater bags, than yourself. You have the effrontery to talk of your sister’s money. Not one penny of that have I ever touched. Not one penny of it could I ever bear to touch. WHAT YOU SAY IS A DAMNED LIE!

SHAW:
It is the truth, you rotter, and you know it!

KELLY:
But what is more important is why you are so interested in your sister’s money. What is more important is why you are afraid your sister should get married.

SHAW:
(
Sneering.
) Really? Really?

KELLY:
(
Fiercely.
) PERHAPS THAT IS WHY YOU LET LOOSE ON ME IN THIS ROOM THE MOST VILE FLOOD OF CALUMNY . . . AND SLANDER . . . AND FOUL LANGUAGE IT HAS EVER BEEN MY MISFORTUNE TO LISTEN TO!

(
SHAW
glares at
KELLY
,
then rushes over for his hat and stick and makes for the door, where he delivers a parting shot.
)

KELLY:
And that is about the size and shape of it and please contradict me if I am wrong, Mr. Kilshaughraun.

SHAW:
(
At the door, after taking up hat, stick and gloves.
) If it’s the last thing I do in this world, I’ll break you into little pieces, so help me—I’ll run you out of this house and out of this country, you objectionable little pig of a publican. I’ll destroy you, do you hear? And I’ll make sure of one thing. You’ll never be an Irish M.P. YOU’LL NEVER BE AN IRISH M.P. YOU——
*

CURTAIN QUICKLY

*
Insert appropriate local term of abuse.

ACT III

Four weeks later
.

The scene is the same save that the room is in a far more advanced state of disorder with posters, stationery, banners, flags and all manner of electioneering paraphernalia. A clock shows that it is about nine in the evening. The curtains are drawn.

MARGARET
is sitting disconsolately alone on the sofa, which is facing the audience towards the left of the stage.
KELLY
is listening on the phone, bending over a small table towards the right. There is complete silence for a few seconds after the curtain goes up.

KELLY:
What? What?

(
MARGARET
sighs and passes her hand wearily across her brow.
)

KELLY:
(
Eagerly.
) Yes. Yes, yes! Good, good. Excellent. Yes? (
He pauses to listen.
)

MARGARET:
What does he say?

KELLY:
(
Holding up his hand to silence her.
) Are you sure of that?

WHAT? (
He listens.
) Good! Ring me up later. I SAID RING ME UP LATER! Goodbye!

(
He bangs down the phone and turns to
MARGARET
,
gleefully rubbing his hands.
)

KELLY:
Margaret, Margaret, I’m nearly home and dried. I’m nearly home and dried! (
He flops down on the sofa beside her and takes her hand.
) I’m nearly home, Margaret.

MARGARET:
(
Dejectedly.
) That’s good news.