The Land of Promise: A Comedy in Four Acts

By William Somerset Maugham

"The Land of Promise" by W. Somerset Maugham is a satirical comedy that satirizes the American dream. Set in a small English town, the play follows a couple, driven by the allure of prosperity, who venture to America. Through clever dialogue and humorous situations, Maugham explores the disparity between expectations and reality, offering a witty commentary on cultural differences and the pursuit of success. The play's comedic elements and sharp social critique make it an entertaining exploration of the illusions and challenges faced by those seeking the promised land of opportunity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Interactive Media
• Release date: Oct 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9781787249233

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William Somerset Maugham

The Land of Promise:

A Comedy in Four Acts

New Edition

Published by Sovereign Classic

This Edition

First published in 2018

Copyright © 2018 Sovereign Classic

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 9781787249233

Contents

CHARACTERS

ACT I

ACT II

ACT III

ACT IV

CHARACTERS

Norah Marsh.

Edward Marsh.

Gertrude Marsh.

Frank Taylor.

Reginald Hornby.

Benjamin Trotter.

Sidney Sharp.

Emma Sharp.

James Wickham.

Dorothy Wickham.

Agnes Pringle.

Clement Wynne.

Kate.

The action of the play takes place at Tunbridge Wells, and later in Canada.

ACT I

Scene: The drawing-room at Miss Wickham’s house in Tunbridge Wells. It is a room in which there is too much furniture. There are armchairs covered with faded chintz, little tables here and there, cabinets containing china, a great many photographs in silver frames, porcelain ornaments wherever there is a vacant space, Chippendale chairs and chairs from the Tottenham Court Road. There are flowers in vases and growing plants. The wall-paper has a pattern of enormous chrysanthemums, and on the walls are a large number of old-fashioned watercolours in gilt frames. There is one door, which leads into the hall; and a French window opens on to the garden. The window is decorated with white lace curtains. It is four o’clock in the afternoon. The sun is streaming through the drawn blinds. There is a wreath of white flowers in a cardboard box on one of the chairs. The door is opened by Kate, the parlour-maid. She is of respectable appearance and of a decent age. She admits Miss Pringle. Miss Pringle is companion to a wealthy old lady in Tunbridge Wells. She is a woman of middle age, plainly dressed, thin and narrow of shoulders, with a weather-beaten, tired face and grey hair.

Kate.

I’ll tell Miss Marsh you’re here, Miss Pringle.

Miss Pringle.

How is she to-day, Kate?

Kate.

She’s tired out, poor thing. She’s lying down now. But I’m sure she’d like to see you, Miss.

Miss Pringle.

I’m very glad she didn’t go to the funeral.

Kate.

Dr. Evans thought she’d better stay at home, Miss, and Mrs. Wickham said she’d only upset herself if she went.

Miss Pringle.

I wonder how she stood it all those months, waiting on Miss Wickham hand and foot.

Kate.

Miss Wickham wouldn’t have a professional nurse. And you know what she was, Miss.... Miss Marsh slept in Miss Wickham’s room, and the moment she fell asleep Miss Wickham would have her up because her pillow wanted shaking, or she was thirsty, or something.

Miss Pringle.

I suppose she was very inconsiderate.

Kate.

Inconsiderate isn’t the word, Miss. I wouldn’t be a lady’s companion, not for anything. What they have to put up with!

Miss Pringle.

Oh, well, everyone isn’t like Miss Wickham. The lady I’m companion to, Mrs. Hubbard, is kindness itself.

Kate.

That sounds like Miss Marsh coming downstairs [She goes to the door and opens it.] Miss Pringle is here, Miss.

[Norah comes in. She is a woman of twenty-eight, with a pleasant, honest face and a happy smile. She is gentle, with quiet manners, but she has a quick temper, under very good control, and a passionate nature which is hidden under a demure appearance. She is simply dressed in black.]

Norah.

I am glad to see you. I was hoping you’d be able to come here this afternoon.

Miss Pringle.

Mrs. Hubbard has gone for a drive with somebody or other, and didn’t want me.

[They kiss one another. Norah notices the wreath.]

Norah.

What’s this?

Kate.

It didn’t arrive till after they’d started, Miss.

Norah.

I wonder whom it’s from. [She looks at a card which is attached to the wreath.] From Mrs. Alfred Vincent, with deepest regret for my dear Miss Wickham and heartiest sympathy for her sorrowing relatives.

Kate.

Sorrowing relatives is good, Miss.

Norah.

[Remonstrating.] Kate ... I think you’d better take it away.

Kate.

What shall I do with it, Miss?

Norah.

I’m going to the cemetery a little later. I’ll take it with me.

Kate.

Very good, Miss.

[Kate takes up the box and goes out.]

Miss Pringle.

You haven’t been crying, Norah?

Norah.

[With a little apologetic smile.] Yes, I couldn’t help it.

Miss Pringle.

What on earth for?

Norah.

My dear, it’s not unnatural.

Miss Pringle.

Well, I don’t want to say anything against her now she’s dead and gone, poor thing, but Miss Wickham was the most detestable old woman I ever met.

Norah.

I don’t suppose one can live all that time with anyone and not be a little sorry to part with them for ever. I was Miss Wickham’s companion for ten years.

Miss Pringle.

How you stood it! Exacting, domineering, disagreeable.

Norah.

Yes, I suppose she was. Because she paid me a salary she thought I wasn’t a human being. I never saw anyone with such a bitter tongue. At first I used to cry every night when I went to bed because of the things she said to me. But I got used to them.

Miss Pringle.

I wonder you didn’t leave her. I would have.

Norah.

It’s not easy to get posts as lady’s companion.

Miss Pringle.

That’s true. They tell me the agents’ books are full of people wanting situations. Before I went to Mrs. Hubbard I was out of one for nearly two years.

Norah.

It’s not so bad for you. You can always go and stay with your brother.

Miss Pringle.

You’ve got a brother too.

Norah.

Yes, but he’s farming in Canada. He had all he could do to keep himself, he couldn’t keep me too.

Miss Pringle.

How is he doing now?

Norah.

Oh, he’s doing very well. He’s got a farm of his own. He wrote over a couple of years ago and told me he could always give me a home if I wanted one.

Miss Pringle.

Canada’s so far off.

Norah.

Not when you get there.

Miss Pringle.

Why don’t you draw the blinds?

Norah.

I thought I ought to wait till they come back from the funeral.

Miss Pringle.

It must be a great relief to you now it’s all over.

Norah.

Sometimes I can’t realise it. These last few weeks I hardly got to bed at all, and when the end came I was utterly exhausted. For two days I could do nothing but sleep. Poor Miss Wickham. She did hate dying.

Miss Pringle.

That’s the extraordinary part of it. I believe you were really fond of her.

Norah.

D’you know that for nearly a year she would eat nothing but what I gave her with my own hands. And she liked me as much as she was capable of liking anybody.

Miss Pringle.

That wasn’t much.

Norah.

And then, I was so dreadfully sorry for her.

Miss Pringle.

Good heavens!

Norah.

She’d been a hard and selfish woman all her life, and there was no one who cared for her. It seemed so dreadful to die like that and leave not a soul to regret one. Her nephew and his wife were just waiting for her death. It was dreadful. Each time they came down from London I saw them looking at her to see if she was any worse than when last they’d seen her.

Miss Pringle.

Well, I thought her a horrid old woman, and I’m glad she’s dead. And I hope she’s left you well provided for.

Norah.

[With a smile.] Oh, I think she’s done that. Two years