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The Mob, a play by John Galsworthy |
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Act 3 - Scene 1 |
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_ ACT III - SCENE I [A cobble-stoned alley, without pavement, behind a suburban theatre. The tall, blind, dingy-yellowish wall of the building is plastered with the tattered remnants of old entertainment bills, and the words: "To Let," and with several torn, and one still virgin placard, containing this announcement: "Stop-the- War Meeting, October 1st. Addresses by STEPHEN MORE, Esq., and others." The alley is plentifully strewn with refuse and scraps of paper. Three stone steps, inset, lead to the stage door. It is a dark night, and a street lamp close to the wall throws all the light there is. A faint, confused murmur, as of distant hooting is heard. Suddenly a boy comes running, then two rough girls hurry past in the direction of the sound; and the alley is again deserted. The stage door opens, and a doorkeeper, poking his head out, looks up and down. He withdraws, but in a second reappears, preceding three black-coated gentlemen.] DOORKEEPER. It's all clear. You can get away down here, gentlemen. Keep to the left, then sharp to the right, round the corner. THE THREE. [Dusting themselves, and settling their ties] Thanks, very much! Thanks! FIRST BLACK-COATED GENTLEMAN. Where's More? Isn't he coming? [They are joined by a fourth black-coated GENTLEMAN.] FOURTH BLACK-COATED GENTLEMAN. Just behind. [TO the DOORKEEPER] Thanks. [They hurry away. The DOORKEEPER retires. Another boy runs past. Then the door opens again. STEEL and MORE come out.] [MORE stands hesitating on the steps; then turns as if to go back.] STEEL. Come along, sir, come! MORE. It sticks in my gizzard, Steel. STEEL. [Running his arm through MORE'S, and almost dragging him down the steps] You owe it to the theatre people. [MORE still hesitates] We might be penned in there another hour; you told Mrs. More half-past ten; it'll only make her anxious. And she hasn't seen you for six weeks. MORE. All right; don't dislocate my arm. [They move down the steps, and away to the left, as a boy comes running down the alley. Sighting MORE, he stops dead, spins round, and crying shrilly: "'Ere 'e is! That's 'im! 'Ere 'e is!" he bolts back in the direction whence he came.] STEEL. Quick, Sir, quick! MORE. That is the end of the limit, as the foreign ambassador remarked. STEEL. [Pulling him back towards the door] Well! come inside again, anyway! [A number of men and boys, and a few young girls, are trooping quickly from the left. A motley crew, out for excitement; loafers, artisans, navvies; girls, rough or dubious. All in the mood of hunters, and having tasted blood. They gather round the steps displaying the momentary irresolution and curiosity that follows on a new development of any chase. MORE, on the bottom step, turns and eyes them.] A GIRL. [At the edge] Which is 'im! The old 'un or the young? [MORE turns, and mounts the remaining steps.] TALL YOUTH. [With lank black hair under a bowler hat] You blasted traitor! [MORE faces round at the volley of jeering that follows; the chorus of booing swells, then gradually dies, as if they realized that they were spoiling their own sport.] A ROUGH GIRL. Don't frighten the poor feller! [A girl beside her utters a shrill laugh.] STEEL. [Tugging at MORE's arm] Come along, sir. MORE. [Shaking his arm free--to the crowd] Well, what do you want? A VOICE. Speech. MORE. Indeed! That's new. ROUGH VOICE. [At the back of the crowd] Look at his white liver. You can see it in his face. A BIG NAVY. [In front] Shut it! Give 'im a chanst! TALL YOUTH. Silence for the blasted traitor? [A youth plays the concertina; there is laughter, then an abrupt silence.] MORE. You shall have it in a nutshell! A SHOPBOY. [Flinging a walnut-shell which strikes MORE on the shoulder] Here y'are! MORE. Go home, and think! If foreigners invaded us, wouldn't you be fighting tooth and nail like those tribesmen, out there? TALL YOUTH. Treacherous dogs! Why don't they come out in the open? MORE. They fight the best way they can. [A burst of hooting is led by a soldier in khaki on the outskirt.] MORE. My friend there in khaki led that hooting. I've never said a word against our soldiers. It's the Government I condemn for putting them to this, and the Press for hounding on the Government, and all of you for being led by the nose to do what none of you would do, left to yourselves. [The TALL YOUTH leads a somewhat unspontaneous burst of execration.] MORE. I say not one of you would go for a weaker man. VOICES IN THE CROWD.
COCKNEY VOICE. And git your wife to put cottonwool in yer ears. [A spurt of laughter.] A FRIENDLY VOICE. [From the outskirts] Shame! there! Bravo, More! Keep it up! [A scuffle drowns this cry.] MORE. [With vehemence] Stop that! Stop that! You---! TALL YOUTH. Traitor! AN ARTISAN. Who black-legged? MIDDLE-AGED MAN. Ought to be shot-backin' his country's enemies! MORE. Those tribesmen are defending their homes. TWO VOICES. Hear! hear! [They are hustled into silence.] TALL YOUTH. Wind-bag! MORE. [With sudden passion] Defending their homes! Not mobbing unarmed men! [STEEL again pulls at his arm.] ROUGH. Shut it, or we'll do you in! MORE. [Recovering his coolness] Ah! Do me in by all means! You'd deal such a blow at cowardly mobs as wouldn't be forgotten in your time. STEEL. For God's sake, sir! MORE. [Shaking off his touch] Well! [There is an ugly rush, checked by the fall of the foremost figures, thrown too suddenly against the bottom step. The crowd recoils.] [There is a momentary lull, and MORE stares steadily down at them.] COCKNEY VOICE. Don't 'e speak well! What eloquence! Two or three nutshells and a piece of orange-peel strike MORE across the face. He takes no notice. ROUGH VOICE. That's it! Give 'im some encouragement. [The jeering laughter is changed to anger by the contemptuous smile on MORE'S face.] A TALL YOUTH. Traitor! A VOICE. Don't stand there like a stuck pig. A ROUGH. Let's 'ave 'im dahn off that! [Under cover of the applause that greets this, he strikes MORE across the legs with a belt. STEEL starts forward. MORE, flinging out his arm, turns him back, and resumes his tranquil staring at the crowd, in whom the sense of being foiled by this silence is fast turning to rage.][ THE CROWD. Speak up, or get down! Get off! Get away, there--or we'll make you! Go on! [MORE remains immovable.] A YOUTH. [In a lull of disconcertion] I'll make 'im speak! See! [He darts forward and spits, defiling MORES hand. MORE jerks it up as if it had been stung, then stands as still as ever. A spurt of laughter dies into a shiver of repugnance at the action. The shame is fanned again to fury by the sight of MORES scornful face.] TALL YOUTH. [Out of murmuring] Shift! or you'll get it! A VOICE. Enough of your ugly mug! A ROUGH. Give 'im one! [Two flung stones strike MORE. He staggers and nearly falls, then rights himself.] A GIRL'S VOICE. Shame! FRIENDLY VOICE. Bravo, More! Stick to it! A ROUGH. Give 'im another! A VOICE. No! A GIRL'S VOICE. Let 'im alone! Come on, Billy, this ain't no fun! [Still looking up at MORE, the whole crowd falls into an uneasy silence, broken only by the shuffling of feet. Then the BIG NAVVY in the front rank turns and elbows his way out to the edge of the crowd.] THE NAVVY. Let 'im be! [With half-sullen and half-shamefaced acquiescence the crowd breaks up and drifts back whence it came, till the alley is nearly empty.] MORE. [As if coming to, out of a trance-wiping his hand and dusting his coat] Well, Steel! [And followed by STEEL, he descends the steps and moves away. Two policemen pass glancing up at the broken glass. One of them stops and makes a note.] [THE CURTAIN FALLS.] _ |
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