The 'Mind the Paint' Girl E-Book

Arthur Wing Pinero

• Herausgeber: Booksell-Verlag
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

In Arthur Wing Pinero's play, The 'Mind the Paint' Girl, the intricacies of love, ambition, and social class converge within a vibrant theatrical landscape of late Victorian England. The narrative follows a young woman, a theatre dresser, whose passionate aspirations and sacrifices illuminate the struggles faced by working-class individuals in a society that often marginalizes them. Pinero's deft use of dialogue and his keen understanding of character lend a poignant realism to the storyline, while his keen observation of the theatrical world provides a rich backdrop for the unfolding drama. The play captures the tension between aspiration and reality, ultimately revealing the ever-present gap between social classes that was a hallmark of this literary period. Arthur Wing Pinero, a prominent figure in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, was renowned for his contributions to the theatre, shunning the melodramatic norms of his time in favor of more nuanced character portrayal and social commentary. His involvement in the theatrical arts, both as an actor and a playwright, profoundly influenced his perceptions of social class and the human condition, themes that resonate deeply within this work. Pinero's experiences in the theatre imbued him with the skills necessary to craft authentic characters whose aspirations mirror those of the emerging modern individual. The 'Mind the Paint' Girl is a compelling exploration of social mobility and the human spirit, making it a pivotal read for those interested in the intersection of class and identity in literature. Pinero'Äôs incisive commentary, woven into the fabric of a deeply engaging narrative, offers readers not only entertainment but also vital insights into the struggles of the human condition. This play is highly recommended for enthusiasts of classic drama, as well as for anyone looking to deepen their understanding of social dynamics in literature.

Leseprobe

Arthur Wing Pinero

The 'Mind the Paint' Girl

A Comedy in Four Acts

Published by Good Press, 2019

[email protected]

EAN 4057664613035

Table of Contents

THE

“ MIND THE PAINT ”

GIRL

THE “MIND THE PAINT” GIRL

THE FIRST ACT

THE SECOND ACT

THE THIRD ACT

THE FOURTH ACT

Contents (added by transcriber)

First Act: Lily Parradell’s drawing room

Second Act: refreshment-saloon of Pandora Theatre

Second Act (after curtain): the same, later

Third Act: Lily Parradell’s boudoirSong: “If you would only love me”

Fourth Act: the same, later

THE PLAYS OF ARTHUR W. PINERO

Paper cover, 1s. 6d.; cloth, 2s. 6d. each

THE TIMESTHE PROFLIGATE

THE CABINET MINISTER

THE HOBBY-HORSELADY BOUNTIFULTHE MAGISTRATEDANDY DICKSWEET LAVENDERTHE SCHOOLMISTRESS

THE WEAKER SEX

THE AMAZONS*

THE SECOND MRS. TANQUERAY

THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH

THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT

THE PRINCESS AND THE BUTTERFLY

TRELAWNY OF THE “WELLS”

†

THE GAY LORD QUEX

IRISLETTYA WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE

HIS HOUSE IN ORDER

THE THUNDERBOLTMID-CHANNEL

PRESERVING MR. PANMURE

THE “MIND THE PAINT” GIRL

* This Play can be had in library form, 4to, cloth, with a portrait, 5s.

† A Limited Edition of this play on hand-made paper, with a new portrait, 10s net.

THE PINERO BIRTHDAY BOOK

Selected and Arranged by MYRA HAMILTON With a Portrait, cloth extra, price 2s. 6d.

LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN

THE

Table of Contents

“ MIND THE PAINT ”

Table of Contents

GIRL

Table of Contents

A COMEDY

In Four Acts

By ARTHUR PINERO

LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN

MCMXIII

Copyright 1912 by Arthur Pinero

This play was produced in London, at the Duke of York’s Theatre, on Saturday, February 17, 1912; in New York, at the New Lyceum Theatre, on Monday, September 9, 1912; and in Germany, at the Stadttheater in Mainz, on Monday, January 13, 1913

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

Viscount FarncombeColonel the Hon. Arthur StidulphBaron von RettenmayerCaptain Nicholas JeyesLionel RoperSam de CastroHerbert FulkersonStewart HeneageGerald Grimwood

Carlton Smythe (Manager of the Pandora Theatre)

Douglas Glynn, Albert Palk, Wilfrid Tavish, and Sigismund Shirley

(Actors at the Pandora)

Vincent Bland (A Musical Composer, attached to the Pandora)

Morris Cooling (Business Manager at the Pandora)

Luigi (Maître d’hôtel at Catani’s Restaurant)

Waiters

The Hon. Mrs. Arthur Stidulph (Formerly, as Dolly Ensor, of the Pandora Theatre)

Lily Parradell(Of the Pandora)Jimmie BirchGabrielle KatoEnid MoncrieffDaphne DureNita TrevennaFlo ConnifySybil DermottOlga CookEvangeline Ventris

Mrs. Upjohn (Lily Parradell’smother)

Gladys (Lily’sparlourmaid)

Maud (Lily’smaid)

The action of the piece takes place in London—at Lily Parradell’s house in Bloomsbury, in the foyer of the Pandora Theatre, and again at Lily’s house.

The curtain will be lowered for a few moments in the course of the Second Act.

The following advertisements are to appear conspicuously in the programme.

MIND THE PAINT (the complete song), words by D’Arcy Wingate, music by Vincent Bland, as originally sung by Miss Lily Parradell at the Pandora Theatre in the Musical Play of “The Duchess of Brixton,” may be obtained from Messrs. Church and Co. (Ltd.), Music Publishers, 181 New Bond Street.

After the Theatre. Catani’s Restaurant, 459 Strand. Best cuisine in London. Milanese Band. Private Rooms. Urbano Catani, Sole Proprietor. Tel.: 10,337 Gerrard.

THE “MIND THE PAINT” GIRL

Table of Contents

THE FIRST ACT

Table of Contents

The scene is a drawing-room, prettily but somewhat showily decorated. The walls are papered with a design representing large clusters of white and purple lilac. The furniture is covered with a chintz of similar pattern, and the curtains, carpet, and lamp-shades correspond.

In the wall facing the spectator are two windows, and midway between the windows there is the entrance to a conservatory. The conservatory, which is seen beyond, is of the kind that is built out over the portico of a front-door, and is plentifully stocked with flowers and hung with a velarium and green sun-blinds. In the right-hand wall there is another window and, nearer the spectator, a console-table supporting a high mirror; and in the wall on the left, opposite the console-table, there is a double-door opening into the room, the further half of which only is used.

In the entrance to the conservatory, to the right, there is a low, oblong tea-table at which are placed three small chairs; and near-by, on the left, are a grand-piano and a music-stool. Against the piano there is a settee, and on the extreme left, below the door, there is an arm-chair with a little round table beside it. At the right-hand window in the wall at the back is another settee, and facing this window and settee there is a smaller arm-chair.

Not far from the fire-place there is a writing-table with a telephone-instrument upon it. A chair stands at the writing-table, its back to the window in the wall on the right; and in front of the table, opposing the settee by the piano, there is a third settee. On the left of this settee, almost in the middle of the room, is an arm-chair; and closer to the settee, on its right, are two more arm-chairs. Other articles of furniture—a cabinet, “occasional” chairs, etc., etc.—occupy spaces against the walls.

On the piano, on the console-table and cabinet, on the settee at the back, on the round table, and upon the floor, stand huge baskets of flowers, and other handsome floral devices in various forms, with cards attached to them; and lying higgledy-piggledy upon the writing-table are a heap of small packages, several little cases containing jewellery, and a litter of paper and string. The packages and the cases of jewellery are also accompanied by cards or letters.

A fierce sunlight streams down upon the velarium, and through the green blinds, in the conservatory.

[Note: Throughout, “right” and “left” are the spectators’ right and left, not the actor’s.]

Lord Farncombe, his gloves in his hand, is seated in the arm-chair in the middle of the room. He is a simple-mannered, immaculately dressed young man in his early twenties, his bearing and appearance suggesting the soldier. He rises expectantly as Gladys, a flashy parlourmaid in a uniform, shows in Lionel Roper, a middle-aged individual of the type of the second-class City man.

Roper.

To Farncombe. Hul-lo! I’m in luck! Just the chap I’m hunting for. Shaking hands with Farncombe. How d’ye do, Lord Farncombe?

Farncombe.

How are you, Roper?

Gladys.

To Roper, languidly. I’ll tell Mrs. Upjohn you’re here.

Roper.

Ta. Gladys withdraws. Phew, it’s hot!

Farncombe.

Miss Parradell’s out.

Roper.

Taking off his gloves. She won’t be long, I dare say.

Farncombe.

I’ve brought her a few flowers.

Roper.

Have you? I’ve sent her a trifle of jewellery.

Farncombe.

Glancing at the writing-table. She seems to have received a lot of jewellery.

Roper.

Bustling across to the table. By Jove, doesn’t she! Ah, there’s my brooch!

Farncombe.

Modestly. I didn’t consider I’d a right to offer her anything but flowers, on so slight an acquaintance.

Roper.

Exactly; but I’m an old friend, you know. Turning to Farncombe. Perhaps, by her next birthday——

Farncombe.

Smiling. I hope so.

Roper.

Approaching Farncombe and taking him by the lapel of his coat. What I want to say to you is, doing anything to-night?

Farncombe.

I—I shall be at the theatre.

Roper.

Oh, we shall all be at the theatre, to shout Many Happy Returns. Later, I mean.

Farncombe.

Nothing that I can’t get out of.

Roper.

Good. Look here. Smythe is giving her a bit of supper in the foyer after the show, a dance on the stage to follow. About five-and-twenty people. ’Ull you come?

Farncombe.

If Mr. Smythe is kind enough to ask me——

Roper.

He does ask you, through me. He’s left all the arrangements to me and Morrie Cooling. Carlton never did anything in his life; I egged him on to this. I’ve been sweating at it since eleven o’clock this morning. Haven’t been near the City; not near it. Well?

Farncombe.

His eyes glowing. I shall be delighted.

Roper.

Splendid. Been trying to get on to you all day. I’ve called twice at your club and at St. James’s Place.

Farncombe.

Sorry you’ve had so much trouble.

Roper.

Dropping on to the settee in front of the writing-table and wiping his brow. There’ll be the Baron, Sam de Castro, Bertie Fulkerson, Stew Heneage, Jerry Grimwood, Dwarf Kennedy, Colonel and Mrs. Stidulph—Dolly Ensor that was—and ourselves, besides Cooling and Vincent Bland and the pick o’ the Company. Catani does the food and drink. I don’t believe I’ve forgotten a single thing. With a change of tone, pointing to the arm-chair in the middle of the room. Sit down a minute. Farncombe sits and Roper edges nearer to him. Are you going to wait to see Lily this afternoon?

Farncombe.

I—I should like to.

Roper.

Because if Jeyes should happen to drop in while you’re here——

Farncombe.

Captain Jeyes?

Roper.

Nicko Jeyes—or if you knock up against him to-night at the theatre—mum about this.

Farncombe.

About the supper?

Roper.

Nodding. Um. We don’t want Nicko Jeyes; we simply don’t want him. And if he heard that you and some of the boys are coming, he might wonder why he isn’t included.

Farncombe.

He strikes me as being rather a surly, ill-conditioned person.

Roper.

A regular loafer.

Farncombe.

He appears to live at Catani’s. I never go there without meeting him.

Roper.

Exactly. Catani’s and a top, back bedroom in Jermyn Street, and hanging about the Pandora; that’s Nicko Jeyes’s life.

Farncombe.

He’s an old friend of Mrs. Upjohn’s and Miss Parradell’s too, isn’t he?

Roper.

Evasively. Known ’em some time. That’s it; Lily’s so faithful to her old friends.

Farncombe.

Smiling.You oughtn’t to complain of that.

Roper.

Oh, but I’m a real friend. I’ve always been a patron of the musical drama—it’s my fad; and I’ve kept an eye on Lily from the moment she sprang into prominence—singing “Mind the paint! Mind the paint!” —looked after her like a father. Uncle Lal she calls me. Reassuringly. I’m a married man, you know; Farncombe nods but the wife has plenty to occupy her with the kids and she leaves the drama to me. She prefers Bexhill. Leaning forward and speaking with great earnestness. Farncombe, what a charming creature!

Farncombe.

Innocently. Mrs. Roper?

Roper.

No, no, no; Lily. Hastily. Oh, and so’s my missus, for that matter, when she chooses. But Lily Upjohn——!

Farncombe.

In a low voice. Beautiful; perfectly beautiful.

Roper.

Yes, and as good as she’s beautiful; you take it from me. With a wave of the hand. Well, if you see Jeyes, you won’t——?

Farncombe.

Not a word.

Roper.

Rising and walking away to the left. I’ve warned the others. Returning to Farncombe who has also risen. By-the-bye, if Lily should mention the supper in the course of conversation, remember, she’s not in the conspiracy.

Farncombe.

Conspiracy?

Roper.

To shunt Nicko. We’re letting her think there are to be no outsiders.

Farncombe.

Becoming slightly puzzled by Roper’s manner. Why, would she very much like Captain Jeyes to be asked?

Roper.

Rather impatiently. Haven’t I told you, once you’re a friend of Lil’s——! Looking towards the door. Is this Ma? Mrs. Upjohn enters. Hul-lo, Ma!

Mrs. Upjohn.

A podgy little, gaily dressed woman of five-and-fifty with a stupid, good-humoured face. ’Ullo, Uncle!

Roper.

Lord Farncombe——

Mrs. Upjohn.

Advancing and shaking hands with Farncombe. Glad to see you ’ere again. You ’ave been before, ’aven’t you?

Farncombe.

Last week.

Mrs. Upjohn.

Of course; you came with Mr. Bertie Fulkerson. But somebody or other’s always poppin’ in. Pleasantly. Lil sees too many, I say. It’s tirin’ for ’er. Won’t you set?

Roper.

Lord Farncombe’s brought Lily some flowers, Ma. To Farncombe. Where are they?

Farncombe.

Who, after waiting for Mrs. Upjohn to settle herself upon the settee in front of the writing-table, sits in the chair at the end of the settee—pointing to a large basket of flowers. On the piano.

Mrs. Upjohn.

Barely glancing at the flowers. ’Ow kind of ’im! Sech a waste o’ money too! They do go off so quick.

Roper.

Reading the cards attached to the various floral gifts. Where is Lil?

Mrs. Upjohn.

She’s settin’ to a risin’ young artist in Fitzroy Street—Claude Morgan. She won’t be ’ome till past five. So tirin’ for ’er.

Roper.

Never heard of Morgan.

Mrs. Upjohn.

No, nor anybody else. That’s what I tell ’er. Why waste your time givin’ settin’s to a risin’ young artist when the big men ’ud go down on their ’ands and knees to do you? But that’s Lil all over. She’s the best-natured girl in the world, and so she gets imposed on all round.

Farncombe.

Gallantly. I prophesy that Mr. Morgan’s picture of Miss Parradell won’t have dried before he’s quite famous.

Mrs. Upjohn.

Turning a pair of dull eyes full upon him. ’Ow do you mean?

Farncombe.

Disconcerted. Er—I mean—

Mrs. Upjohn.

Why won’t it ’ave dried?

Farncombe.

I mean he will have become celebrated before it has dried.

Mrs. Upjohn.

’Is pictures never do dry, you mean?

Roper.

No, no, Ma!

Mrs. Upjohn.

’Owever, it doesn’t matter. ’E isn’t even goin’ to put ’er name to it.

Roper.

Why not?

Mrs. Upjohn.

You may well ask. ’E’s bent on callin’ it “The ‘Mind the Paint’ Girl.”

Roper.

What’s wrong with that? Everybody’ll recognise who that is.

Mrs. Upjohn.

Unconvinced. ’Er name’s printed on all ’er photos.

Farncombe.

The first time I had the pleasure of seeing your daughter on the stage, Mrs. Upjohn, a man next to me said, “Here comes the ‘Mind the Paint’ girl.”

Mrs. Upjohn.

Cheering up. Oh, well, p’r’aps young Morgan knows ’is own business best. Let’s ’ope so, at any rate.

Roper.

By the tea-table, beckoning to Farncombe. Farncombe——

Farncombe.

To Roper. Eh? To Mrs. Upjohn, rising. Excuse me.

Farncombe joins Roper, whereupon Mrs. Upjohn goes to the writing-table and, seating herself there, examines the jewellery delightedly.

Roper.

To Farncombe, in a whisper. Do me a favour.

Farncombe.

Certainly.

Roper.

Looking at his watch. It’s only half-past four. Take a turn round the Square. I’ve some business to talk over with the old lady.

Farncombe.

Nodding to Roper and then coming forward and addressing Mrs. Upjohn. I—er—I think I’ll go for a little walk and come back later on, if I may.

Mrs. Upjohn.

Contentedly. Oh, jest as you like.

Farncombe.

Moving towards the door. In about a quarter-of-an-hour.

Mrs. Upjohn.

If we don’t see you again, I’ll tell Lil you’ve been ’ere.

Farncombe.

At the door. Oh, but you will; you will see me again.

Mrs. Upjohn.

Well, please yourself and you please your dearest friend, as Lil’s dad used to say.

Farncombe.

Thank you—thank you very much.

He disappears, closing the door after him.

Mrs. Upjohn.

To Roper, looking up. I b’lieve you gave that young man the ’int to go, Uncle.

Roper.

I did; told him I wanted to talk business with you.

Mrs. Upjohn.

Business? Resuming her inspection of the trinkets. This is a ’andsome thing Mr. Grimwood’s sent ’er.

Roper.

His hands in his trouser-pockets, contemplating Mrs. Upjohn desperately. Upon my soul, Ma, you’re a champion!

Mrs. Upjohn.

Now wot ’ave I done!

Roper.

Well, you might spread yourself a little over young Farncombe.

Mrs. Upjohn.

Spread myself! Why should I?

Roper.

Lord Farncombe!

Mrs. Upjohn.

I treat ’em all alike; so does Lil. ’E’s not the first title we’ve ’ad ’ere, not by a dozen.

Roper.

No, but damn it all—! I beg your pardon——

Mrs. Upjohn.

Beaming. So you ought—swearin’ like a trooper.

Roper.

This chap’s in love with her.

Mrs. Upjohn.

Oh, they’re all in love with ’er; or ’ave been, one time or another.

Roper.

Yes, but they’re not all Farncombes and they’re not all marrying men. I’m prepared to bet my boots that if Lil and young Farncombe could be thrown together——! Sitting on the settee in front of the writing-table as Mrs. Upjohn rises and comes forward. Here! Do talk it over.

Mrs. Upjohn.

Placidly. Where’s the use o’ talkin’ it over? It’s wastin’ one’s breath. Moving to the settee by the piano. My Lil doesn’t want to marry—any’ow not yet awhile; she’s ’appy and contented as she is. Sitting and smoothing out her skirt. When she does, I s’pose it’ll be the Captain.

Roper.

Between his teeth. The Captain! Quietly. Ma, the day Lil marries Nicko Jeyes, you and she’ll see the last o’ me.

Mrs. Upjohn.

Oh, don’t say that, Uncle.

Roper.

I do say it. The disappointment ’ud be more than I could stand. Selfish, designing beggar!

Mrs. Upjohn.

Now, no low abuse.

Roper.

A fellow who gets on the soft side of Lil before she’s out of her teens—before she’s made any position to speak of; and when she has made a position, and he’s practically on his uppers, sticks to her like a limpet!

Mrs. Upjohn.

She sticks to ’im, too. It meant a deal to Lil in ’er ’umble days, reck’lect—receivin’ attentions from a gentleman in the army. She doesn’t forget that.

Roper.

Jumping up and walking about. It’s cruel; that’s what it is—it’s cruel. Here’s Gwennie Harker and Maidie Trevail both married to peers’ sons, and Eva Shafto to a baronet—all of ’em Pandora girls; and Lil—she’s left high and dry, engaged to a nobody! It’s cruel!

Mrs. Upjohn.

She’s not ackshally engaged.

Roper.

Ho, ho!

Mrs. Upjohn.

The ideer was, when ’e shirked goin’ to India an’ gave up soldierin’, so as to be near ’er, that ’e should get something to do in London; then they were to be engaged.

Roper.

Sarcastically. Oh, to be just, I admit he’s in no hurry. He’s been a whole year looking for something to do in London—looking for it at Catani’s and at the Pandora bars!

Mrs. Upjohn.

’E ’as to be on the spot at night, to bring Lil ’ome after ’er work.

Roper.