



Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images available at The Internet Archive)










                            _LANDED GENTRY_

                       _PLAYS BY W. S. MAUGHAM_

                       Uniform with this volume

                            _JACK STRAW_
                            _PENELOPE_
                            _MRS. DOT_
                            _THE EXPLORER_
                            _A MAN OF HONOUR_
                            _LADY FREDERICK_
                            _SMITH_
                            _THE TENTH MAN_

              _CHICAGO: THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY_




                            _LANDED GENTRY_

                              _A COMEDY_

                            _In Four Acts_

                          _BY W. S. MAUGHAM_

                              _CHICAGO_:
                   _THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY_

                              PRINTED BY
                       BALLANTYNE & COMPANY LTD
                            LONDON, ENGLAND

 This play was produced under the title “GRACE,” at the Duke of York’s
      Theatre, London, October 15, 1910, with the following cast:


               CLAUDE INSOLEY                DENNIS EADIE
               REV. ARCHIBALD INSOLEY        LESLIE FABER
               HENRY COBBETT               ARTHUR WONTNER
               GANN                          EDMUND GWENN
               MOORE                        HESTON COOPER
               GRACE INSOLEY               IRENE VANBRUGH
               MRS. INSOLEY                     LADY TREE
               MISS VERNON OF FOLEY      LILLAH MACCARTHY
               MISS HALL                      MARY BARTON
               EDITH LEWIS                  NINA SEVENING
               MARGARET GANN                GERTRUDE LANG




                            _LANDED GENTRY_




                             _CHARACTERS_


                         CLAUDE INSOLEY
                         REV. ARCHIBALD INSOLEY
                         HENRY COBBETT
                         GANN
                         MOORE
                         GRACE INSOLEY
                         MRS. INSOLEY
                         MISS VERNON OF FOLEY
                         MISS HALL
                         EDITH LEWIS
                         MARGARET GANN


_The Action takes place at Kenyon-Fulton, Claude Insoley’s place in
Somersetshire._

_The Performing Rights of this play are fully protected, and permission
to perform it, whether by Amateurs or Professionals, must be obtained in
advance from the author’s Sole Agent, R. Golding Bright, 20 Green
Street, Leicester Square, London, W.C., from whom all particulars can be
obtained._




                             LANDED GENTRY




THE FIRST ACT


     SCENE: _The drawing-room at Kenyon-Fulton. It is a handsome
     apartment with large windows, reaching to the ground. On the walls
     are old masters whose darkness conceals their artistic
     insignificance. The furniture is fine and solid. Nothing is very
     new or smart. The chintzes have a rather pallid Victorian air. The
     room with its substantial magnificence represents the character of
     a family rather than the taste of an individual._

     _It is night and one or two electric lamps are burning._

     MOORE, _an elderly impressive butler, comes in, followed by_ GANN.
     _This is_ CLAUDE INSOLEY’S _gamekeeper, a short, sturdy man,
     grizzled, with wild stubborn hair and a fringe of beard round his
     chin. He wears his Sunday clothes of sombre broadcloth._

MOORE.

You’re to wait here.

     [GANN, _hat in hand, advances to the middle of the room_.

MOORE.

They’ve not got up from dinner yet, but he’ll come and see you at once.

GANN.

I’ll wait.

MOORE.

He said I was to tell him the moment you come. What can he be wanting of
you at this time of night?

GANN.

Maybe if he wished you to know he’d have told you.

MOORE.

I don’t want to know what don’t concern me.

GANN.

Pity there ain’t more like you.

MOORE.

It’s the missus’ birthday to-day.

GANN.

Didn’t he say you was to tell him the moment I come?

MOORE.

I’ve only just took in the dessert. Give ’em a minute to sample the
peaches.

GANN.

I thought them was your orders.

MOORE.

You’re a nice civil-spoken one, you are.

     [_With an effort_ GANN _prevents himself from replying. It is as
     much as he can do to keep his hands off the sleek, obsequious
     butler._ MOORE _after a glance at him goes out. The gamekeeper
     begins to walk up and down the room like a caged beast. In a moment
     he hears a sound and stops still. He turns his hat round and round
     in his hands._

     [CLAUDE INSOLEY _comes in. He is a man of thirty-five, rather
     dried-up, rather precise, neither good-looking nor plain, with a
     slightly dogmatic, authoritative manner._

CLAUDE.

Good evening, Gann.

GANN.

Good evening, sir.

     [CLAUDE _hesitates for a moment; to conceal a slight embarrassment
     he lights a cigarette_. GANN _watches him steadily_.

CLAUDE.

I suppose you know what I’ve sent for you about.

GANN.

No, sir.

CLAUDE.

I should have thought you might guess without hurting yourself. The
Rector tells me that your daughter Peggy came back last night.

GANN.

Yes, sir.

CLAUDE.

Bit thick, isn’t it?

GANN.

I don’t know what you mean, sir.

CLAUDE.

Oh, that’s all rot, Gann. You know perfectly well what I mean. It’s a
beastly matter for both of us, but it’s no good funking it.... You’ve
been on the estate pretty well all your life, haven’t you?

GANN.

It’s fifty-four years come next Michaelmas that my father was took on,
and I was earning wages here before you was born.

CLAUDE.

My governor always said you were the best keeper he ever struck, and
hang it all, I haven’t had anything to complain about either.

GANN.

Thank you, sir.

CLAUDE.

Anyhow, we shan’t make it any better by beating about the bush. It
appears that Peggy has got into trouble in London.... I’m awfully sorry
for you, and all that sort of thing.

GANN.

Poor child. She’s not to blame.

     [CLAUDE _gives a slight shrug of the shoulders_.

GANN.

I want ’er to forget all she’s gone through. It was a mistake she ever
went to London, but she would go. Now I’ll keep ’er beside me. She’ll
never leave me again till I’m put underground.

CLAUDE.

That’s all very fine and large, but I’m afraid Peggy can’t stay on here,
Gann.

GANN.

Why not?

CLAUDE.

You know the rule of the estate as well as I do. When a girl gets into a
mess she has to go.

GANN.

It’s a wicked rule!

CLAUDE.

You never thought so before, and this isn’t the first time you’ve seen
it applied, by a long chalk.

GANN.

The girl went away once and come to grief. She wellnigh killed herself
with the shame of it. I’m not going to let ’er out of my sight again.

CLAUDE.

I’m afraid I can’t make an exception in your favour, Gann.

GANN.

[_Desperately._] Where’s she to go to?

CLAUDE.

Oh, I expect she’ll be able to get a job somewhere. Mrs. Insoley’ll do
all she can.

GANN.

It’s no good, Squire. I can’t let ’er go. I want ’er.

CLAUDE.

I don’t want to be unreasonable. I’ll give you a certain amount of time
to make arrangements.

GANN.

Time’s no good to me. I haven’t the ’eart to send her away.

CLAUDE.

I’m afraid it’s not a question of whether you like it or not. You must
do as you’re told.

GANN.

I can’t part with her, and there’s an end of it.

CLAUDE.

You’d better go and talk it over with your wife.

GANN.

I don’t want to talk it over with anyone. I’ve made up my mind.

     [CLAUDE _is silent for a moment. He looks at_ GANN _thoughtfully_.

CLAUDE.

[_Deliberately._] I’ll give you twenty-four hours to think about it.

GANN.

[_Startled._] What d’you mean by that, sir?

CLAUDE.

If Peggy isn’t gone by that time, I am afraid I shall have to send you
away.

GANN.

You wouldn’t do that, sir? You couldn’t do it, Squire, not after all
these years.

CLAUDE.

We’ll soon see about that, my friend.

GANN.

You can’t dismiss me for that. I’ll have the law of you. I’ll sue you
for wrongful dismissal.

CLAUDE.

You can do what you damned well like; but if Peggy hasn’t gone by
to-morrow night I shall turn you off the estate on Tuesday.

GANN.

[_Hoarsely._] You wouldn’t do it! You couldn’t do it.

     [_There is a sound of talking and laughter, and of a general
     movement as the dining-room door is opened._

CLAUDE.

They’re just coming in. You’d better hook it.

     [MISS VERNON _and_ EDITH LEWIS _come in, followed by_ GRACE. _For a
     moment_ GANN _stands awkwardly, and then leaves the room_. MISS
     VERNON _is a slight, faded, rather gaunt woman of thirty-five. Her
     deliberate manner, her composure, suggest a woman of means and a
     woman who knows her own mind._ EDITH LEWIS _is a pretty girl of
     twenty_. GRACE _is thirty. She is a beautiful creature with an
     eager, earnest face and fine eyes. She has a restless manner, and
     her frequent laughter strikes you as forced. She is always falling
     from one emotion to another. She uses a slightly satirical note
     when she speaks to her husband._

EDITH.

[_Going to the window._] Oh, what a lovely night! Do let’s go out. [_To_
GRACE.] May we?

GRACE.

Of course, if you want to.

EDITH.

I’m perfectly sick with envy every time I look out of the window. Those
lovely old trees!

GRACE.

I wonder if you’d be sick with envy if you looked at nothing else for
forty-six weeks in the year?

EDITH.

I adore the country.

GRACE.

People who habitually live in London generally do.

MISS VERNON.

Aren’t you fond of the country?

GRACE.

[_Vehemently._] I hate it! I hate it with all my heart and soul.

CLAUDE.

My dear Grace, what are you saying?

GRACE.

It bores me. It bores me stiff. Those endless trees, and those dreary
meadows, and those ploughed fields. Oh!

EDITH.

I don’t think I could ever get tired of the view from your dining-room.

GRACE.

Not if you saw it for three meals a day for ten years? Oh, my dear, you
don’t know what that view is like at an early breakfast on a winter’s
morning. You sit there looking at it, with icy fingers, wondering if
your nose is red, while your husband reads morning prayers, because his
father read morning prayers before him; and the sky looks as if it were
going to sink down and crush you.

CLAUDE.

You can’t expect sunshine all the year round, can you?

GRACE.

[_Smiling._] True, O King!

EDITH.

Well, I’m a Cockney, and I feel inclined