MURDER IN THE CATHEDRAL

by Eliot · Cluster: Guilt · Conscience · Fate and Free Will

Abstract

Verse drama of the martyrdom of Thomas Becket: the four tempters, the conflict of spiritual and temporal power, and his death in Canterbury Cathedral as a Christian martyr and christ-figure.

Connections

Topoi: Fortune’s Wheel Archetypes: Martyr Saint, Christ Figure Motifs: Wheel, Blood, Cross, Bread and Wine Eucharist, Seasons, Swords and Weapons, Death Themes & Concepts: Martyrdom, Temptation, Faith, Conscience, Power and Corruption, Pride, Humility, Providence, Kingship and Legitimacy, Common Man, Good vs Evil, Fate and Free Will, History Forms & Genres: Verse Drama, Tragedy Historical References: Medieval England, Catholic Church, Christianity, Bible Settings: Cathedral, Medieval England (2) Characters: Christ, Thomas Becket

Testo integrale / Full text

MURDER IN THE CATHEDRAL This play is fully protected by copyright and no performance can be given without a licence from the Author’s agents THE LEAGUE OF DRAMATISTS 84 DRAYTON GARDENS, LONDON, S.W.10 from whose Secretary all information about fees or royalties can be obtained.

Characters PART I  A CHORUS OF WOMEN OF CANTERBURY THREE PRIESTS OF THE CATHEDRAL A MESSENGER ARCHBISHOP THOMAS BECKET FOUR TEMPTERS ATTENDANTS The scene is the Archbishop’s Hall, on December 2nd, 1170 

PART II  THREE PRIESTS FOUR KNIGHTS ARCHBISHOP THOMAS BECKET CHORUS OF WOMEN OF CANTERBURY ATTENDANTS The first scene is in the Archbishop’s Hall, the second scene is in the Cathedral, on December 29th, 1170

Part I

Chi parla	Battuta
CHORUS	Here let us stand, close by the cathedral. Here let us wait. Are we drawn by danger? Is it the knowledge of safety, that draws         our feet Towards the cathedral? What danger can be For us, the poor, the poor women of Canterbury? what tribulation With which we are not already familiar? There is no danger For us, and there is no safety in the cathedral. Some presage of an         act Which our eyes are compelled to witness, has forced our feet Towards the cathedral. We are forced to bear witness. Since golden October declined into sombre November And the apples were gathered and stored, and the land became         brown sharp points of death in a waste of water and mud, The New Year waits, breathes, waits, whispers in darkness. While the labourer kicks off a muddy boot and stretches his hand         to the fire, The New Year waits, destiny waits for the coming. Who has stretched out his hand to the fire and remembered the         Saints at All Hallows, Remembered the martyrs and saints who wait? and who shall Stretch out his hand to the fire, and deny his master? who shall be         warm By the fire, and deny his master? Seven years and the summer is over Seven years since the Archbishop left us, He who was always kind to his people. But it would not be well if he should return. King rules or barons rule; We have suffered various oppression, But mostly we are left to our own devices, And we are content if we are left alone. We try to keep our households in order; The merchant, shy and cautious, tries to compile a little fortune, And the labourer bends to his piece of earth, earth-colour, his own         colour, Preferring to pass unobserved. Now I fear disturbance of the quiet seasons: Winter shall come bringing death from the sea, Ruinous spring shall beat at our doors, Root and shoot shall eat our eyes and our ears, Disastrous summer burn up the beds of our streams And the poor shall wait for another decaying October. Why should the summer bring consolation For autumn fires and winter fogs? What shall we do in the heat of summer But wait in barren orchards for another October? Some malady is coming upon us. We wait, we wait, And the saints and martyrs wait, for those who shall be martyrs and         saints. Destiny waits in the hand of God, shaping the still unshapen: I have seen these things in a shaft of sunlight. Destiny waits in the hand of God, not in the hands of statesmen Who do, some well, some ill, planning and guessing, Having their aims which turn in their hands in the pattern of time. Come, happy December, who shall observe you, who shall preserve         you? Shall the Son of Man be born again in the litter of scorn? For us, the poor, there is no action, But only to wait and to witness.
(didascalia)	[Enter PRIESTS]
FIRST PRIEST	Seven years and the summer is over. Seven years since the Archbishop left us.
SECOND PRIEST	What does the Archbishop do, and our Sovereign         Lord the Pope With the stubborn King and the French King In ceaseless intrigue, combinations, In conference, meetings accepted, meetings refused, Meetings unended or endless At one place or another in France?
THIRD PRIEST	I see nothing quite conclusive in the art of temporal         government, But violence, duplicity and frequent malversation. King rules or barons rule: The strong man strongly and the weak man by caprice. They have but one law, to seize the power and keep it, And the steadfast can manipulate the greed and lust of others, The feeble is devoured by his own.
FIRST PRIEST	Shall these things not end Until the poor at the gate Have forgotten their friend, their Father in God, have forgotten That they had a friend?
(didascalia)	[Enter MESSENGER]
MESSENGER	Servants of God, and watchers of the temple, I am here to inform you, without circumlocution: The Archbishop is in England, and is close outside the city. I was sent before in haste To give you notice of his coming, as much as was possible, That you may prepare to meet him.
FIRST PRIEST	What, is the exile ended, is our Lord Archbishop Reunited with the King? what reconciliation Of two proud men?
THIRD PRIEST	What peace can be found To grow between the hammer and the anvil?
SECOND PRIEST	Tell us, Are the old disputes at an end, is the wall of pride cast down That divided them? Is it peace or war?
FIRST PRIEST	Does he come In full assurance, or only secure In the power of Rome, the spiritual rule, The assurance of right, and the love of the people?
MESSENGER	You are right to express a certain incredulity. He comes in pride and sorrow, affirming all his claims, Assured, beyond doubt, of the devotion of the people, Who receive him with scenes of frenzied enthusiasm, Lining the road and throwing down their capes, Strewing the way with leaves and late flowers of the season. The streets of the city will be packed to suffocation, And I think that his horse will be deprived of its tail, A single hair of which becomes a precious relic. He is at one with the Pope, and with the King of France, Who indeed would have liked to detain him in his kingdom: But as for our King, that is another matter.
FIRST PRIEST	But again, is it war or peace?
MESSENGER	Peace, but not the kiss of peace. A patched up affair, if you ask my opinion. And if you ask me, I think the Lord Archbishop Is not the man to cherish any illusions, Or yet to diminish the least of his pretensions. If you ask my opinion, I think that this peace Is nothing like an end, or like a beginning. It is common knowledge that when the Archbishop Parted from the King, he said to the King, My Lord, he said, I leave you as a man Whom in this life I shall not see again. I have this, I assure you, on the highest authority; There are several opinions as to what he meant, But no one considers it a happy prognostic.
(didascalia)	[Exit]
FIRST PRIEST	I fear for the Archbishop, I fear for the Church, I know that the pride bred of sudden prosperity Was but confirmed by bitter adversity. I saw him as Chancellor, flattered by the King. Liked or feared by courtiers, in their overbearing fashion, Despised and despising, always isolated, Never one among them, always insecure; His pride always feeding upon his own virtues, Pride drawing sustenance from impartiality, Pride drawing sustenance from generosity, Loathing power given by temporal devolution, Wishing subjection to God alone. Had the King been greater, or had he been weaker Things had perhaps been different for Thomas.
SECOND PRIEST	Yet our lord is returned. Our lord has come back to his own again. We have had enough of waiting, from December to dismal December. The Archbishop shall be at our head, dispelling dismay and doubt. He will tell us what we are to do, he will give us our orders, instruct us. Our Lord is at one with the Pope, and also the King of France. We can lean on a rock, we can feel a firm foothold Against the perpetual wash of tides of balance of forces of barons and landholders. The rock of God is beneath our feet. Let us meet the Archbishop with cordial thanksgiving: Our lord, our Archbishop returns. And when the Archbishop returns Our doubts are dispelled. Let us therefore rejoice, I say rejoice, and show a glad face for his welcome. I am the Archbishop’s man. Let us give the Archbishop welcome!
THIRD PRIEST	For good or ill, let the wheel turn. The wheel has been still, these seven years, and no good. For ill or good, let the wheel turn. For who knows the end of good or evil? Until the grinders cease And the door shall be shut in the street, And all the daughters of music shall be brought low.
CHORUS	Here is no continuing city, here is no abiding stay. Ill the wind, ill the time, uncertain the profit, certain the danger. O late late late, late is the time, late too late, and rotten the year; Evil the wind, and bitter the sea, and grey the sky, grey grey grey. O Thomas, return, Archbishop; return, return to France. Return. Quickly. Quietly. Leave us to perish in quiet. You come with applause, you come with rejoicing, but you come bringing death into Canterbury: A doom on the house, a doom on yourself, a doom on the world. We do not wish anything to happen. Seven years we have lived quietly, Succeeded in avoiding notice, Living and partly living. There have been oppression and luxury, There have been poverty and licence, There has been minor injustice. Yet we have gone on living, Living and partly living. Sometimes the corn has failed us, Sometimes the harvest is good, One year is a year of rain, Another a year of dryness, One year the apples are abundant, Another year the plums are lacking. Yet we have gone on living, Living and partly living. We have kept the feasts, heard the masses, We have brewed beer and cider, Gathered wood against the winter, Talked at the corner of the fire, Talked at the corners of streets, Talked not always in whispers, Living and partly living. We have seen births, deaths and marriages, We have had various scandals, We have been afflicted with taxes, We have had laughter and gossip, Several girls have disappeared Unaccountably, and some not able to. We have all had our private terrors, Our particular shadows, our secret fears. But now a great fear is upon us, a fear not of one but of many, A fear like birth and death, when we see birth and death alone In a void apart. We Are afraid in a fear which we cannot know, which we cannot face,         which none understands, And our hearts are torn from us, our brains unskinned like the         layers of an onion, our selves are lost lost In a final fear which none understands. O Thomas Archbishop, O Thomas our Lord, leave us and leave us be, in our humble and         tarnished frame of existence, leave us; do not ask us To stand to the doom on the house, the doom on the Archbishop,         the doom on the world. Archbishop, secure and assured of your fate, unaffrayed among the         shades, do you realise what you ask, do you realise what it         means To the small folk drawn into the pattern of fate, the small folk who         live among small things. The strain on the brain of the small folk who stand to the doom of         the house, the doom of their lord, the doom of the world? O Thomas, Archbishop, leave us, leave us, leave sullen Dover, and         set sail for France. Thomas our Archbishop still         our Archbishop even in France. Thomas Archbishop, set the         white sail between the grey sky and the bitter sea, leave         us, leave us for France.
SECOND PRIEST	What a way to talk at such a juncture! You are foolish, immodest and babbling women. Do you not know that the good Archbishop Is likely to arrive at any moment? The crowds in the streets will be cheering and cheering, You go on croaking like frogs in the treetops: But frogs at least can be cooked and eaten. Whatever you are afraid of, in your craven apprehension, Let me ask you at the least to put on pleasant faces, And give a hearty welcome to our good Archbishop.
(didascalia)	[Enter THOMAS]
THOMAS	Peace. And let them be, in their exaltation. They speak better than they know, and beyond your understanding. They know and do not know, what it is to act or suffer. They know and do not know, that action is suffering And suffering is action. Neither does the agent suffer Nor the patient act. But both are fixed In an eternal action, an eternal patience To which all must consent that it may be willed And which all must suffer that they may will it, That the pattern may subsist, for the pattern is the action And the suffering, that the wheel may turn and still Be forever still.
SECOND PRIEST	O my Lord, forgive me, I did not see you coming, Engrossed by the chatter of these foolish women. Forgive us, my Lord, you would have had a better welcome If we had been sooner prepared for the event. But your Lordship knows that seven years of waiting, Seven years of prayer, seven years of emptiness, Have better prepared our hearts for your coming, Than seven days could make ready Canterbury. However, I will have fires laid in all your rooms To take the chill off our English December, Your Lordship now being used to a better climate. Your Lordship will find your rooms in order as you left them.
THOMAS	And will try to leave them in order as I find them. I am more than grateful for all your kind attentions. These are small matters. Little rest in Canterbury With eager enemies restless about us. Rebellious bishops, York, London, Salisbury, Would have intercepted our letters, Filled the coast with spies and sent to meet me Some who hold me in bitterest hate. By God’s grace aware of their prevision I sent my letters on another day, Had fair crossing, found at Sandwich Broc, Warenne, and the Sheriff of Kent, Those who had sworn to have my head from me Only John, the Dean of Salisbury, Fearing for the King’s name, warning against treason, Made them hold their hands. So for the time We are unmolested.
FIRST PRIEST	But do they follow after?
THOMAS	For a little time the hungry hawk Will only soar and hover, circling lower, Waiting excuse, pretence, opportunity. End will be simple, sudden, God-given. Meanwhile the substance of our first act Will be shadows, and the strife with shadows. Heavier the interval than the consummation. All things prepare the event. Watch.
(didascalia)	[Enter FIRST TEMPTER]
FIRST TEMPTER	You see, my Lord, I do not wait upon ceremony: Here I have come, forgetting all acrimony, Hoping that your present gravity Will find excuse for my humble levity Remembering all the good time past. Your Lordship won’t despise an old friend out of favour? Old Tom, gay Tom, Becket of London, Your Lordship won’t forget that evening on the river When the King, and you and I were all friends together? Friendship should be more than biting Time can sever. What, my Lord, now that you recover Favour with the King, shall we say that summer’s over Or that the good time cannot last? Fluting in the meadows, viols in the hall, Laughter and apple-blossom floating on the water, Singing at nightfall, whispering in chambers, Fires devouring the winter season, Eating up the darkness, with wit and wine and wisdom! Now that the King and you are in amity, Clergy and laity may return to gaiety, Mirth and sportfulness need not walk warily.
THOMAS	You talk of seasons that are past. I remember Not worth forgetting.
TEMPTER	And of the new season. Spring has come in winter. Snow in the branches Shall float as sweet as blossoms. Ice along the ditches Mirror the sunlight. Love in the orchard Send the sap shooting. Mirth matches melancholy.
THOMAS	We do not know very much of the future Except that from generation to generation The same things happen again and again. Men learn little from others’ experience. But in the life of one man, never The same time returns. Sever The cord, shed the scale. Only The fool, fixed in his folly, may think He can turn the wheel on which he turns.
TEMPTER	My Lord, a nod is as good as a wink. A man will often love what he spurns. For the good times past, that are come again I am your man.
THOMAS	Not in this train Look to your behaviour. You were safer Think of penitence and follow your master.
TEMPTER	Not at this gait! If you go so fast, others may go faster. Your Lordship is too proud! The safest beast is not the one that roars most loud, This was not the way of the King our master! You were not used to be so hard upon sinners When they were your friends. Be easy, man! The easy man lives to eat the best dinners. Take a friend’s advice. Leave well alone, Or your goose may be cooked and eaten to the bone.
THOMAS	You come twenty years too late.
TEMPTER	Then I leave you to your fate. I leave you to the pleasures of your higher vices, Which will have to be paid for at higher prices. Farewell, my Lord, I do not wait upon ceremony, I leave as I came, forgetting all acrimony, Hoping that your present gravity Will find excuse for my humble levity. If you will remember me, my Lord, at your prayers, I’ll remember you at kissing-time below the stairs.
THOMAS	Leave-well-alone, the springtime fancy, So one thought goes whistling down the wind. The impossible is still temptation. The impossible, the undesirable, Voices under sleep, waking a dead world, So that the mind may not be whole in the present.
(didascalia)	[Enter SECOND TEMPTER]
SECOND TEMPTER	Your Lordship has forgotten me, perhaps. I will remind you. We met at Clarendon, at Northampton, And last at Montmirail, in Maine. Now that I have recalled them, Let us but set these not too pleasant memories In balance against other, earlier And weightier ones: those of the Chancellorship. See how the late ones rise! You, master of policy Whom all acknowledged, should guide the state again.
THOMAS	Your meaning?
TEMPTER	The Chancellorship that you resigned When you were made Archbishop — that was a mistake On your part — still may be regained. Think, my Lord, Power obtained grows to glory, Life lasting, a permanent possession. A templed tomb, monument of marble. Rule over men reckon no madness.
THOMAS	To the man of God what gladness?
TEMPTER	Sadness Only to those giving love to God alone. Shall he who held the solid substance Wander waking with deceitful shadows? Power is present. Holiness hereafter.
THOMAS	Who then?
TEMPTER	The Chancellor, King and Chancellor. King commands. Chancellor richly rules. This is a sentence not taught in the schools. To set down the great, protect the poor, Beneath the throne of God can man do more? Disarm the ruffian, strengthen the laws, Rule for the good of the better cause, Dispensing justice make all even, Is thrive on earth, and perhaps in heaven.
THOMAS	What means?
TEMPTER	Real power Is purchased at price of a certain submission. Your spiritual power is earthly perdition. Power is present, for him who will wield.
THOMAS	Who shall have it?
TEMPTER	He who will come.
THOMAS	What shall be the month?
TEMPTER	The last from the first.
THOMAS	What shall we give for it?
TEMPTER	Pretence of priestly power.
THOMAS	Why should we give it?
TEMPTER	For the power and the glory.
THOMAS	No!
TEMPTER	Yes! Or bravery will be broken, Cabined in Canterbury, realmless ruler, Self-bound servant of a powerless Pope, The old stag, circled with hounds.
THOMAS	No!
TEMPTER	Yes! men must manœuvre. Monarchs also, Waging war abroad, need fast friends at home. Private policy is public profit; Dignity still shall be dressed with decorum.
THOMAS	You forget the bishops Whom I have laid under excommunication.
TEMPTER	Hungry hatred Will not strive against intelligent self-interest.
THOMAS	You forget the barons. Who will not forget Constant curbing of petty privilege.
TEMPTER	Against the barons Is King’s cause, churl’s cause, Chancellor’s cause.
THOMAS	No! shall I, who keep the keys Of heaven and hell, supreme alone in England, Who bind and loose, with power from the Pope, Descend to desire a punier power? Delegate to deal the doom of damnation, To condemn kings, not serve among their servants, Is my open office. No! Go.
TEMPTER	Then I leave you to your fate. Your sin soars sunward, covering kings’ falcons.
THOMAS	Temporal power, to build a good world, To keep order, as the world knows order. Those who put their faith in worldly order Not controlled by the order of God, In confident ignorance, but arrest disorder, Make it fast, breed fatal disease, Degrade what they exalt. Power with the King — I was the King, his arm, his better reason. But what was once exaltation Would now be only mean descent.
(didascalia)	[Enter THIRD TEMPTER]
THIRD TEMPTER	I am an unexpected visitor.
THOMAS	I expected you.
TEMPTER	But not in this guise, or for my present purpose.
THOMAS	No purpose brings surprise.
TEMPTER	Well, my Lord, I am no trifler, and no politician. To idle or intrigue at court I have no skill. I am no courtier. I know a horse, a dog, a wench; I know how to hold my estates in order, A country-keeping lord who minds his own business. It is we country lords who know the country And we who know what the country needs. It is our country. We care for the country. We are the backbone of the nation. We, not the plotting parasites About the King. Excuse my bluntness: I am a rough straightforward Englishman.
THOMAS	Proceed straight forward.
TEMPTER	Purpose is plain. Endurance of friendship does not depend Upon ourselves, but upon circumstance. But circumstance is not undetermined. Unreal friendship may turn to real But real friendship, once ended, cannot be mended. Sooner shall enmity turn to alliance. The enmity that never knew friendship Can sooner know accord.
THOMAS	For a countryman You wrap your meaning in as dark generality As any courtier.
TEMPTER	This is the simple fact! You have no hope of reconciliation With Henry the King. You look only To blind assertion in isolation. That is a mistake.
THOMAS	O Henry, O my King!
TEMPTER	Other friends May be found in the present situation. King in England is not all-powerful; King is in France, squabbling in Anjou; Round him waiting hungry sons. We are for England. We are in England. You and I, my Lord, are Normans. England is a land for Norman Sovereignty. Let the Angevin Destroy himself, fighting in Anjou. He does not understand us, the English barons. We are the people.
THOMAS	To what does this lead?
TEMPTER	To a happy coalition Of intelligent interests.
THOMAS	But what have you — If you do speak for barons —
TEMPTER	For a powerful party Which has turned its eyes in your direction — To gain from you, your Lordship asks. For us, Church favour would be an advantage, Blessing of Pope powerful protection In the fight for liberty. You, my Lord, In being with us, would fight a good stroke At once, for England and for Rome, Ending the tyrannous jurisdiction Of king’s court over bishop’s court, Of king’s court over baron’s court.
THOMAS	Which I helped to found.
TEMPTER	Which you helped to found. But time past is time forgotten. We expect the rise of a new constellation.
THOMAS	And if the Archbishop cannot trust the King, How can he trust those who work for King’s undoing?
TEMPTER	Kings will allow no power but their own; Church and people have good cause against the throne.
THOMAS	If the Archbishop cannot trust the Throne, He has good cause to trust none but God alone. I ruled once as Chancellor And men like you were glad to wait at my door. Not only in the court, but in the field And in the tilt-yard I made many yield. Shall I who ruled like an eagle over doves Now take the shape of a wolf among wolves? Pursue your treacheries as you have done before: No one shall say that I betrayed a king.
TEMPTER	Then, my Lord, I shall not wait at your door. And I well hope, before another spring The King will show his regard for your loyalty.
THOMAS	To make, then break, this thought has come before, The desperate exercise of failing power. Samson in Gaza did no more. But if I break, I must break myself alone.
(didascalia)	[Enter FOURTH TEMPTER]
FOURTH TEMPTER	Well done, Thomas, your will is hard to bend. And with me beside you, you shall not lack a friend.
THOMAS	Who are you? I expected Three visitors, not four.
TEMPTER	Do not be surprised to receive one more. Had I been expected, I had been here before. I always precede expectation.
THOMAS	Who are you?
TEMPTER	As you do not know me, I do not need a name. And, as you know me, that is why I come. You know me, but have never seen my face. To meet before was never time or place.
THOMAS	Say what you come to say.
TEMPTER	It shall be said at last. Hooks have been baited with morsels of the past. Wantonness is weakness. As for the King, His hardened hatred shall have no end. You know truly, the King will never trust Twice, the man who has been his friend. Borrow use cautiously, employ Your services as long as you have to lend. You would wait for trap to snap Having served your turn, broken and crushed. As for barons, envy of lesser men Is still more stubborn than king’s anger. Kings have public policy, barons private profit, Jealousy raging possession of the fiend. Barons are employable against each other; Greater enemies must kings destroy.
THOMAS	What is your counsel?
TEMPTER	Fare forward to the end. All other ways are closed to you Except the way already chosen. But what is pleasure, kingly rule. Or rule of men beneath a king, With craft in corners, stealthy stratagem, To general grasp of spiritual power? Man oppressed by sin, since Adam fell — You hold the keys of heaven and hell. Power to bind and loose: bind, Thomas, bind, King and bishop under your heel. King, emperor, bishop, baron, king: Uncertain mastery of melting armies, War, plague, and revolution, New conspiracies, broken pacts; To be master or servant within an hour, This is the course of temporal power. The Old King shall know it, when at last breath, No sons, no empire, he bites broken teeth. You hold the skein: wind, Thomas, wind The thread of eternal life and death. You hold this power, hold it.
THOMAS	Supreme, in this land?
TEMPTER	Supreme, but for one.
THOMAS	That I do not understand.
TEMPTER	It is not for me to tell you how this may be so; I am only here, Thomas, to tell you what you know.
THOMAS	How long shall this be?
TEMPTER	Save what you know already, ask nothing of me. But think, Thomas, think of glory after death. When king is dead, there’s another king, And one more king is another reign. King is forgotten, when another shall come: Saint and Martyr rule from the tomb. Think, Thomas, think of enemies dismayed, Creeping in penance, frightened of a shade; Think of pilgrims, standing in line Before the glittering jewelled shrine, From generation to generation Bending the knee in supplication, Think of the miracles, by God’s grace, And think of your enemies, in another place.
THOMAS	I have thought of these things.
TEMPTER	That is why I tell you. Your thoughts have more power than kings to compel you. You have also thought, sometimes at your prayers, Sometimes hesitating at the angles of stairs, And between sleep and waking, early in the morning, When the bird cries, have thought of further scorning. That nothing lasts, but the wheel turns, The nest is rifled, and the bird mourns; That the shrine shall be pillaged, and the gold spent, The jewels gone for light ladies’ ornament, The sanctuary broken, and its stores Swept into the laps of parasites and whores. When miracles cease, and the faithful desert you. And men shall only do their best to forget you. And later is worse, when men will not hate you Enough to defame or to execrate you, But pondering the qualities that you lacked Will only try to find the historical fact. When men shall declare that there was no mystery About this man who played a certain part in history.
THOMAS	But what is there to do? what is left to be done? Is there no enduring crown to be won?
TEMPTER	Yes, Thomas, yes; you have thought of that too. What can compare with glory of Saints Dwelling forever in presence of God? What earthly glory, of king or emperor, What earthly pride, that is not poverty Compared with richness of heavenly grandeur? Seek the way of martyrdom, make yourself the lowest On earth, to be high in heaven. And see far off below you, where the gulf is fixed, Your persecutors, in timeless torment, Parched passion, beyond expiation.
THOMAS	No! Who are you, tempting with my own desires? Others have come, temporal tempters, With pleasure and power at palpable price. What do you offer? what do you ask?
TEMPTER	I offer what you desire. I ask What you have to give. Is it too much For such a vision of eternal grandeur?
THOMAS	Others offered real goods, worthless But real. You only offer Dreams to damnation.
TEMPTER	You have often dreamt them.
THOMAS	Is there no way, in my soul’s sickness, Does not lead to damnation in pride? I well know that these temptations Mean present vanity and future torment. Can sinful pride be driven out Only by more sinful? Can I neither act nor suffer Without perdition?
TEMPTER	You know and do not know, what it is to act or suffer. You know and do not know, that action is suffering, And suffering action. Neither does the agent suffer Nor the patient act. But both are fixed In an eternal action, an eternal patience To which all must consent that it may be willed And which all must suffer that they may will it, That the pattern may subsist, that the wheel may turn and still Be forever still.
CHORUS	There is no rest in the house. There is no rest in the street. I hear restless movement of feet. And the air is heavy and thick. Thick and heavy the sky. And the earth presses up against our feet. What is the sickly smell, the vapour? the dark green light from a         cloud on a withered tree? The earth is heaving to parturition         of issue of hell. What is the sticky dew that forms on the back         of my hand? THE FOUR TEMPTERS. Man’s life is a cheat and a disappointment; All things are unreal, Unreal or disappointing: The Catherine wheel, the pantomime cat, The prizes given at the children’s party, The prize awarded for the English Essay, The scholar’s degree, the statesman’s decoration. All things become less real, man passes From unreality to unreality. This man is obstinate, blind, intent On self-destruction, Passing from deception to deception, From grandeur to grandeur to final illusion, Lost in the wonder of his own greatness, The enemy of society, enemy of himself. THE THREE PRIESTS. O Thomas my Lord do not fight the intractable         tide, Do not sail the irresistible wind; in the storm, Should we not wait for the sea to subside, in the night Abide the coming of day, when the traveller may find his way. The sailor lay course by the sun? CHORUS, PRIESTS and TEMPTERS alternately. C. Is it the owl that calls, or a signal between the trees? P. Is the window-bar made fast, is the door under lock and bolt? T. Is it rain that taps at the window, is it wind that pokes at the door? C. Does the torch flame in the hall, the candle in the room? P. Does the watchman walk by the wall? T. Does the mastiff prowl by the gate? C. Death has a hundred hands and walks by a thousand ways. P. He may come in the sight of all, he may pass unseen unheard. T. Come whispering through the ear, or a sudden shock on the skull. C. A man may walk with a lamp at night, and yet be drowned in a ditch. P. A man may climb the stair in the day, and slip on a broken step. T. A man may sit at meat, and feel the cold in his groin.
CHORUS	We have not been happy, my Lord, we have not been too         happy. We are not ignorant women, we know what we must expect and not expect. We know of oppression and torture, We know of extortion and violence, Destitution, disease, The old without fire in winter, The child without milk in summer, Our labour taken away from us, Our sins made heavier upon us. We have seen the young man mutilated, The torn girl trembling by the mill-stream. And meanwhile we have gone on living, Living and partly living, Picking together the pieces, Gathering faggots at nightfall, Building a partial shelter, For sleeping, and eating and drinking and laughter. God gave us always some reason, some hope; but now a new terror         has soiled us, which none can avert, none can avoid, flowing         under our feet and over the sky; Under doors and down chimneys, flowing in at the ear and the         mouth and the eye. God is leaving us, God is leaving us, more pang, more pain than         birth or death. Sweet and cloying through the dark air Falls the stifling scent of despair; The forms take shape in the dark air: Puss-purr of leopard, footfall of padding bear, Palm-pat of nodding ape, square hyaena waiting For laughter, laughter, laughter. The Lords of Hell are here. They curl round you, lie at your feet, swing and wing through the         dark air. O Thomas Archbishop, save us, save us, save yourself that we may         be saved; Destroy yourself and we are destroyed.
THOMAS	Now is my way clear, now is the meaning plain: Temptation shall not come in this kind again. The last temptation is the greatest treason: To do the right deed for the wrong reason. The natural vigour in the venial sin Is the way in which our lives begin. Thirty years ago, I searched all the ways That lead to pleasure, advancement and praise. Delight in sense, in learning and in thought,
(didascalia)	Music and philosophy, curiosity,
THOMAS	The purple bullfinch in the lilac tree, The tiltyard skill, the strategy of chess, Love in the garden, singing to the instrument, Were all things equally desirable. Ambition comes when early force is spent And when we find no longer all things possible. Ambition comes behind and unobservable. Sin grows with doing good. When I imposed the King’s law In England, and waged war with him against Toulouse, I beat the barons at their own game. I Could then despise the men who thought me most contemptible, The raw nobility, whose manners matched their finger-nails. While I ate out of the King’s dish To become servant of God was never my wish. Servant of God has chance of greater sin And sorrow, than the man who serves a king. For those who serve the greater cause may make the cause serve         them, Still doing right: and striving with political men May make that cause political, not by what they do But by what they are. I know What yet remains to show you of my history Will seem to most of you at best futility, Senseless self-slaughter of a lunatic, Arrogant passion of a fanatic. I know that history at all times draws The strangest consequence from remotest cause. But for every evil, every sacrilege, Crime, wrong, oppression and the axe’s edge, Indifference, exploitation, you, and you, And you, must all be punished. So must you. I shall no longer act or suffer, to the sword’s end. Now my good Angel, whom God appoints To be my guardian, hover over the swords’ points. Interlude THE ARCHBISHOP preaches in the Cathedral on Christmas Morning, 1170 ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men of good will.’ The fourteenth verse of the second chapter of the Gospel according to Saint Luke. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. Dear children of God, my sermon this Christmas morning will be a very short one. I wish only that you should meditate in your hearts the deep meaning and mystery of our masses of Christmas Day. For whenever Mass is said, we re-enact the Passion and Death of Our Lord; and on this Christmas Day we do this in celebration of His Birth. So that at the same moment we rejoice in His coming for the salvation of men, and offer again to God His Body and Blood in sacrifice, oblation and satisfaction for the sins of the whole world. It was in this same night that has just passed, that a multitude of the heavenly host appeared before the shepherds at Bethlehem, saying ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men of good will’; at this same time of all the year that we celebrate at once the Birth of Our Lord and His Passion and Death upon the Cross. Beloved, as the World sees, this is to behave in a strange fashion. For who in the World will both mourn and rejoice at once and for the same reason? For either joy will be overborne by mourning, or mourning will be cast out by joy; so it is only in these our Christian mysteries that we can rejoice and mourn at once for the same reason. Now think for a moment about the meaning of this word ‘peace’. Does it seem strange to you that the angels should have announced Peace, when ceaselessly the world has been stricken with War and the fear of War? Does it seem to you that the angelic voices were mistaken, and that the promise was a disappointment and a cheat? Reflect now, how Our Lord Himself spoke of Peace. He said to His disciples, ‘Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you.’ Did He mean peace as we think of it: the kingdom of England at peace with its neighbours, the barons at peace with the King, the householder counting over his peaceful gains, the swept hearth, his best wine for a friend at the table, his wife singing to the children? Those men His disciples knew no such things: they went forth to journey afar, to suffer by land and sea, to know torture, imprisonment, disappointment, to suffer death by martyrdom. What then did He mean? If you ask that, remember then that He said also, ‘Not as the world gives, give I unto you.’ So then, He gave to His disciples peace, but not peace as the world gives. Consider also one thing of which you have probably never thought. Not only do we at the feast of Christmas celebrate at once Our Lord’s Birth and His Death: but on the next day we celebrate the martyrdom of His first martyr, the blessed Stephen. Is it an accident, do you think, that the day of the first martyr follows immediately the day of the Birth of Christ? By no means. Just as we rejoice and mourn at once, in the Birth and in the Passion of Our Lord; so also, in a smaller figure, we both rejoice and mourn in the death of martyrs. We mourn, for the sins of the world that has martyred them; we rejoice, that another soul is numbered among the Saints in Heaven, for the glory of God and for the salvation of men. Beloved, we do not think of a martyr simply as a good Christian who has been killed because he is a Christian: for that would be solely to mourn. We do not think of him simply as a good Christian who has been elevated to the company of the Saints: for that would be simply to rejoice: and neither our mourning nor our rejoicing is as the world’s is. A Christian martyrdom is never an accident, for Saints are not made by accident. Still less is a Christian martyrdom the effect of a man’s will to become a Saint, as a man by willing and contriving may become a ruler of men. A martyrdom is always the design of God, for His love of men, to warn them and to lead them, to bring them back to His ways. It is never the design of man; for the true martyr is he who has become the instrument of God, who has lost his will in the will of God, and who no longer desires anything for himself, not even the glory of being a martyr. So thus as on earth the Church mourns and rejoices at once, in a fashion that the world cannot understand; so in Heaven the Saints are most high, having made themselves most low, and are seen, not as we see them, but in the light of the Godhead from which they draw their being. I have spoken to you to-day, dear children of God, of the martyrs of the past, asking you to remember especially our martyr of Canterbury, the blessed Archbishop Elphege; because it is fitting, on Christ’s birth day, to remember what is that Peace which He brought; and because, dear children, I do not think I shall ever preach to you again; and because it is possible that in a short time you may have yet another martyr, and that one perhaps not the last. I would have you keep in your hearts these words that I say, and think of them at another time. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

Part II

Chi parla	Battuta
CHORUS	Does the bird sing in the South? Only the sea-bird cries, driven inland by the storm. What sign of the spring of the year? Only the death of the old: not a stir, not a shoot, not a breath. Do the days begin to lengthen? Longer and darker the day, shorter and colder the night. Still and stifling the air: but a wind is stored up in the East. The starved crow sits in the field, attentive; and in the wood The owl rehearses the hollow note of death. What signs of a bitter spring? The wind stored up in the East. What, at the time of the birth of Our Lord, at Christmastide, Is there not peace upon earth, goodwill among men? The peace of this world is always uncertain, unless men keep the         peace of God. And war among men defiles this world, but death in the Lord         renews it, And the world must be cleaned in the winter, or we shall have         only A sour spring, a parched summer, an empty harvest. Between Christmas and Easter what work shall be         done? The ploughman shall go out in March and turn the same earth He has turned before, the bird shall sing the same song. When the leaf is out on the tree, when the elder and may Burst over the stream, and the air is clear and high, And voices trill at windows, and children tumble in front of the door, What work shall have been done, what wrong Shall the bird’s song cover, the green tree cover, what wrong Shall the fresh earth cover? We wait, and the time is short But waiting is long.
(didascalia)	[Enter the FIRST PRIEST with a banner of St. Stephen borne before him. The lines sung are in italics.]
FIRST PRIEST	Since Christmas a day: and the day of St. Stephen, First         Martyr. Princes moreover did sit, and did witness falsely against me. A day that was always most dear to the Archbishop Thomas. And he kneeled down and cried with a loud voice: Lord, lay not this sin to their charge. Princes moreover did sit.
(didascalia)	[Introit of St. Stephen is heard]
(didascalia)	[Enter the SECOND PRIEST, with a banner of St. John the Apostle borne before him.]
SECOND PRIEST	Since St. Stephen a day: and the day of St. John the         Apostle. In the midst of the congregation he opened his mouth. That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, Which we have seen with our eyes, and our hands have handled Of the word of life; that which we have seen and heard Declare we unto you. In the midst of the congregation.
(didascalia)	[Introit of St. John is heard]
(didascalia)	[Enter the THIRD PRIEST, with a banner of the Holy Innocents borne before him.]
THIRD PRIEST	Since St. John the Apostle a day: and the day of the         Holy Innocents. Out of the mouth of very babes, O God. As the voice of many waters, of thunder, of harps, They sang as it were a new song. The blood of thy saints have they shed like water, And there was no man to bury them. Avenge, O Lord, The blood of thy saints. In Rama, a voice heard, weeping. Out of the mouth of very babes, O God!
(didascalia)	[THE PRIESTS stand together with the banners behind them]
FIRST PRIEST	Since the Holy Innocents a day: the fourth day from         Christmas. THE THREE PRIESTS. Rejoice we all, keeping holy day.
FIRST PRIEST	As for the people, so also for himself, he offereth         for sins. He lays down his life for the sheep. THE THREE PRIESTS. Rejoice we all, keeping holy day.
FIRST PRIEST	To-day?
SECOND PRIEST	To-day, what is to-day? For the day is half gone.
FIRST PRIEST	To-day, what is to-day? but another day, the dusk of         the year.
SECOND PRIEST	To-day, what is to-day? Another night, and another         dawn.
THIRD PRIEST	What day is the day that we know that we hope for or         fear for? Every day is the day we should fear from or hope from. One         moment Weighs like another. Only in retrospection, selection, We say, that was the day. The critical moment That is always now, and here. Even now, in sordid particulars The eternal design may appear.
(didascalia)	[Enter the FOUR KNIGHTS. The banners disappear]
FIRST KNIGHT	Servants of the King.
FIRST PRIEST	And known to us. You are welcome. Have you ridden far?
FIRST KNIGHT	Not far to-day, but matters urgent Have brought us from France. We rode hard, Took ship yesterday, landed last night, Having business with the Archbishop.
SECOND KNIGHT	Urgent business.
THIRD KNIGHT	From the King.
SECOND KNIGHT	By the King’s order.
FIRST KNIGHT	Our men are outside.
FIRST PRIEST	You know the Archbishop’s hospitality. We are about to go to dinner. The good Archbishop would be vexed If we did not offer you entertainment Before your business. Please dine with us. Your men shall be looked after also. Dinner before business. Do you like roast pork?
FIRST KNIGHT	Business before dinner. We will roast your pork First, and dine upon it after.
SECOND KNIGHT	We must see the Archbishop.
THIRD KNIGHT	Go, tell the Archbishop We have no need of his hospitality. We will find our own dinner. FIRST PRIEST [to attendant]. Go, tell His Lordship.
FOURTH KNIGHT	How much longer will you keep us waiting?
(didascalia)	[Enter THOMAS]
FOURTH KNIGHT	THOMAS [to PRIESTS]. However certain our expectation The moment foreseen may be unexpected When it arrives. It comes when we are Engrossed with matters of other urgency. On my table you will find The papers in order, and the documents signed. [To KNIGHTS]. You are welcome, whatever your business may be. You say, from the King?
FIRST KNIGHT	Most surely from the King. We must speak with you alone. THOMAS [to PRIESTS]                     Leave us then alone. Now what is the matter?
FIRST KNIGHT	This is the matter. THE THREE KNIGHTS. You are the Archbishop in revolt against the         King; in rebellion to the King and the law of the land; You are the Archbishop who was made by the King; whom he set         in your place to carry out his command. You are his servant, his tool, and his jack, You wore his favours on your back, You had your honours all from his hand; from him you had the         power, the seal and the ring. This is the man who was the tradesman’s son: the backstairs brat         who was born in Cheapside; This is the creature that crawled upon the King; swollen with         blood and swollen with pride. Creeping out of the London dirt, Crawling up like a louse on your shirt, The man who cheated, swindled, lied; broke his oath and betrayed         his King.
THOMAS	This is not true. Both before and after I received the ring I have been a loyal subject to the King. Saving my order, I am at his command, As his most faithful vassal in the land.
FIRST KNIGHT	Saving your order! let your order save you — As I do not think it is like to do. Saving your ambition is what you mean, Saving your pride, envy and spleen.
SECOND KNIGHT	Saving your insolence and greed. Won’t you ask us to pray to God for you, in your need?
THIRD KNIGHT	Yes, we’ll pray for you!
FIRST KNIGHT	Yes, we’ll pray for you! THE THREE KNIGHTS. Yes, we’ll pray that God may help you!
THOMAS	But, gentlemen, your business Which you said so urgent, is it only Scolding and blaspheming?
FIRST KNIGHT	That was only Our indignation, as loyal subjects.
THOMAS	Loyal? to whom?
FIRST KNIGHT	To the King!
SECOND KNIGHT	The King!
THIRD KNIGHT	The King! THE THREE KNIGHTS.         God bless him!
THOMAS	Then let your new coat of loyalty be worn Carefully, so it get not soiled or torn. Have you something to say?
FIRST KNIGHT	By the King’s command. Shall we say it now?
SECOND KNIGHT	Without delay, Before the old fox is off and away.
THOMAS	What you have to say By the King’s command — if it be the King’s command — Should be said in public. If you make charges, Then in public I will refute them.
FIRST KNIGHT	No! here and now!
(didascalia)	[They make to attack him, but the priests and attendants return and quietly interpose themselves.]
THOMAS	Now and here!
FIRST KNIGHT	Of your earlier misdeeds I shall make no mention. They are too well known. But after dissension Had ended, in France, and you were endued With your former privilege, how did you show your gratitude? You had fled from England, not exiled Or threatened, mind you; but in the hope Of stirring up trouble in the French dominions. You sowed strife abroad, you reviled The King to the King of France, to the Pope, Raising up against him false opinions.
SECOND KNIGHT	Yet the King, out of his charity. And urged by your friends, offered clemency. Made a pact of peace, and all dispute ended Sent you back to your See as you demanded.
THIRD KNIGHT	And burying the memory of your transgressions Restored your honours and your possessions. All was granted for which you sued: Yet how, I repeat, did you show your gratitude?
FIRST KNIGHT	Suspending those who had crowned the young prince, Denying the legality of his coronation.
SECOND KNIGHT	Binding with the chains of anathema.
THIRD KNIGHT	Using every means in your power to evince The King’s faithful servants, every one who transacts His business in his absence, the business of the nation.
FIRST KNIGHT	These are the facts. Say therefore if you will be content To answer in the King’s presence. Therefore were we sent.
THOMAS	Never was it my wish To uncrown the King’s son, or to diminish His honour and power. Why should he wish To deprive my people of me and keep me from my own And bid me sit in Canterbury, alone? I would wish him three crowns rather than one, And as for the bishops, it is not my yoke That is laid upon them, or mine to revoke. Let them go to the Pope. It was he who condemned them.
FIRST KNIGHT	Through you they were suspended.
SECOND KNIGHT	By you be this amended.
THIRD KNIGHT	Absolve them.
FIRST KNIGHT	Absolve them.
THOMAS	I do not deny That this was done through me. But it is not I Who can loose whom the Pope has bound. Let them go to him, upon whom redounds Their contempt towards me, their contempt towards the Church         shown.
FIRST KNIGHT	Be that as it may, here is the King’s command: That you and your servants depart from this land.
THOMAS	If that is the King’s command, I will be bold To say: seven years were my people without My presence; seven years of misery and pain. Seven years a mendicant on foreign charity I lingered abroad: seven years is no brevity. I shall not get those seven years back again. Never again, you must make no doubt, Shall the sea run between the shepherd and his fold.
FIRST KNIGHT	The King’s justice, the King’s majesty, You insult with gross indignity; Insolent madman, whom nothing deters From attainting his servants and ministers.
THOMAS	It is not I who insult the King, And there is higher than I or the King. It is not I, Becket from Cheapside, It is not against me, Becket, that you strive. It is not Becket who pronounces doom, But the Law of Christ’s Church, the judgement of Rome.
FIRST KNIGHT	Priest, you have spoken in peril of your life.
SECOND KNIGHT	Priest, you have spoken in danger of the knife.
THIRD KNIGHT	Priest, you have spoken treachery and treason. THE THREE KNIGHTS. Priest! traitor, confirmed in malfeasance.
THOMAS	I submit my cause to the judgement of Rome. But if you kill me, I shall rise from my tomb To submit my cause before God’s throne.
(didascalia)	[Exit]
FOURTH KNIGHT	Priest! monk! and servant! take, hold, detain, Restrain this man, in the King’s name.
FIRST KNIGHT	Or answer with your bodies.
SECOND KNIGHT	Enough of words. THE FOUR KNIGHTS. We come for the King’s justice, we come with         swords.
(didascalia)	[Exeunt]
CHORUS	I have smelt them, the death-bringers, senses are quickened By subtile forebodings; I have heard Fluting in the night-time, fluting and owls, have seen at noon Scaly wings slanting over, huge and ridiculous. I have tasted The savour of putrid flesh in the spoon. I have felt The heaving of earth at nightfall, restless, absurd. I have heard Laughter in the noises of beasts that make strange noises: jackal,         jackass, jackdaw; the scurrying noise of mouse and jerboa; the         laugh of the loon, the lunatic bird. I have seen Grey necks twisting, rat tails twining, in the thick light of dawn. I         have eaten Smooth creatures still living, with the strong salt taste of living         things under the sea; I have tasted The living lobster, the crab, the oyster, the whelk and the prawn;         and they live and spawn in my bowels, and my bowels dissolve         in the light of dawn. I have smelt Death in the rose, death in the hollyhock, sweet pea, hyacinth,         primrose and cowslip. I have seen Trunk and horn, tusk and hoof, in odd places; I have lain on the floor of the sea and breathed with the breathing         of the sea-anemone, swallowed with ingurgitation of the         sponge. I have lain in the soil and criticised the worm. In the         air Flirted with the passage of the kite, I have plunged with the kite         and cowered with the wren. I have felt The horn of the beetle, the scale of the viper, the mobile hard         insensitive skin of the elephant, the evasive flank of the fish. I have smelt Corruption in the dish, incense in the latrine, the sewer in the         incense, the smell of sweet soap in the woodpath, a hellish         sweet scent in the woodpath, while the ground heaved. I have         seen Rings of light coiling downwards, descending To the horror of the ape. Have I not known, not known What was coming to be? It was here, in the kitchen, in the passage, In the mews in the barn in the byre in the market-place In our veins our bowels our skulls as well As well as in the plottings of potentates As well as in the consultations of powers. What is woven on the loom of fate What is woven in the councils of princes Is woven also in our veins, our brains, Is woven like a pattern of living worms In the guts of the women of Canterbury. I have smelt them, the death-bringers; now is too late For action, too soon for contrition. Nothing is possible but the shamed swoon Of those consenting to the last humiliation. I have consented, Lord Archbishop, have consented. Am torn away, subdued, violated, United to the spiritual flesh of nature, Mastered by the animal powers of spirit, Dominated by the lust of self-demolition, By the final utter uttermost death of spirit, By the final ecstasy of waste and shame, O Lord Archbishop, O Thomas Archbishop, forgive us, forgive us,         pray for us that we may pray for you, out of our shame.
(didascalia)	[Enter THOMAS]
THOMAS	Peace, and be at peace with your thoughts and visions. These things had to come to you and you to accept them, This is your share of the eternal burden, The perpetual glory. This is one moment, But know that another Shall pierce you with a sudden painful joy When the figure of God’s purpose is made complete. You shall forget these things, toiling in the household, You shall remember them, droning by the fire, When age and forgetfulness sweeten memory Only like a dream that has often been told And often been changed in the telling. They will seem unreal. Human kind cannot bear very much reality.
(didascalia)	[Enter PRIESTS]
THOMAS	PRIESTS [severally]. My Lord, you must not stop here. To the minster.         Through the cloister. No time to waste. They are coming back,         armed. To the altar, to the altar.
THOMAS	All my life they have been coming, these feet. All my life I have waited. Death will come only when I am worthy, And if I am worthy, there is no danger. I have therefore only to make perfect my will. PRIESTS, My Lord, they are coming. They will break through         presently. You will be killed. Come to the altar. Make haste, my Lord. Don’t stop here talking. It is not right. What shall become of us, my Lord, if you are killed;         what shall become of us?
THOMAS	Peace! be quiet! remember where you are, and what is         happening; No life here is sought for but mine, And I am not in danger: only near to death.
PRIESTS	My Lord, to vespers! You must not be absent from vespers.         You must not be absent from the divine office. To vespers.         Into the Cathedral!
THOMAS	Go to vespers, remember me at your prayers. They shall find the shepherd here; the flock shall be spared. I have had a tremor of bliss, a wink of heaven, a whisper, And I would no longer be denied; all things Proceed to a joyful consummation.
PRIESTS	Seize him! force him! drag him!
THOMAS	Keep your hands off!
PRIESTS	To vespers! Hurry.
(didascalia)	[They drag him off. While the CHORUS speak, the scene is changed to the cathedral.]
PRIESTS	CHORUS [while a Dies Iræe is sung in Latin by a choir in the distance]. Numb the hand and dry the eyelid, Still the horror, but more horror Than when tearing in the belly. Still the horror, but more horror Than when twisting in the fingers, Than when splitting in the skull. More than footfall in the passage, More than shadow in the doorway, More than fury in the hall. The agents of hell disappear, the human, they shrink and dissolve Into dust on the wind, forgotten, unmemorable; only is here The white flat face of Death, God’s silent servant, And behind the face of Death the Judgement And behind the Judgement the Void, more horrid than active         shapes of hell; Emptiness, absence, separation from God; The horror of the effortless journey, to the empty land Which is no land, only emptiness, absence, the Void, Where those who were men can no longer turn the mind To distraction, delusion, escape into dream, pretence, Where the soul is no longer deceived, for there are no objects, no         tones, No colours, no forms to distract, to divert the soul From seeing itself, foully united forever, nothing with nothing, Not what we call death, but what beyond death is not death, We fear, we fear. Who shall then plead for me, Who intercede for me, in my most need? Dead upon the tree, my Saviour, Let not be in vain Thy labour; Help me, Lord, in my last fear. Dust I am, to dust am bending, From the final doom impending Help me, Lord, for death is near.
(didascalia)	[In the cathedral. THOMAS and PRIESTS]
PRIESTS	Bar the door. Bar the door The door is barred. We are safe. We are safe. They dare not break in. They cannot break in. They have not the force. We are safe. We are safe.
THOMAS	Unbar the doors! throw open the doors! I will not have the house of prayer, the church of Christ, The sanctuary, turned into a fortress. The Church shall protect her own, in her own way, not As oak and stone; stone and oak decay, Give no stay, but the Church shall endure. The Church shall be open, even to our enemies. Open the door!
PRIESTS	My Lord! these are not men, these come not as men come, but Like maddened beasts. They come not like men, who Respect the sanctuary, who kneel to the Body of Christ, But like beasts. You would bar the door Against the lion, the leopard, the wolf or the boar, Why not more Against beasts with the souls of damned men, against men Who would damn themselves to beasts. My Lord! My Lord!
THOMAS	You think me reckless, desperate and mad. You argue by results, as this world does, To settle if an act be good or bad. You defer to the fact. For every life and every act Consequence of good and evil can be shown. And as in time results of many deeds are blended So good and evil in the end become confounded. It is not in time that my death shall be known; It is out of time that my decision is taken If you call that decision To which my whole being gives entire consent. I give my life To the Law of God above the Law of Man. Unbar the door! unbar the door! We are not here to triumph by fighting, by stratagem, or by         resistance, Not to fight with beasts as men. We have fought the beast And have conquered. We have only to conquer Now, by suffering. This is the easier victory. Now is the triumph of the Cross, now Open the door! I command it. OPEN THE DOOR!
(didascalia)	[The door is opened. The KNIGHTS enter, slightly tipsy]
PRIESTS	This way, my Lord! Quick. Up the stair. To the roof. To the crypt. Quick. Come. Force him.
KNIGHTS	Where is Becket, the traitor to the King?           Where is Becket, the meddling priest?       Come down Daniel to the lions’ den,           Come down Daniel for the mark of the beast.       Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?           Are you marked with the mark of the beast?       Come down Daniel to the lions’ den,           Come down Daniel and join in the feast.       Where is Becket the Cheapside brat?           Where is Becket the faithless priest?       Come down Daniel to the lions’ den,           Come down Daniel and join in the feast.
THOMAS	It is the just man who Like a bold lion, should be without fear. I am here. No traitor to the King. I am a priest, A Christian, saved by the blood of Christ, Ready to suffer with my blood. This is the sign of the Church always. The sign of blood. Blood for blood. His blood given to buy my life, My blood given to pay for His death, My death for His death.
FIRST KNIGHT	Absolve all those you have excommunicated.
SECOND KNIGHT	Resign the powers you have arrogated.
THIRD KNIGHT	Restore to the King the money you appropriated.
FIRST KNIGHT	Renew the obedience you have violated.
THOMAS	For my Lord I am now ready to die, That his Church may have peace and liberty. Do with me as you will, to your hurt and shame; But none of my people, in God’s name, Whether layman or clerk, shall you touch. This I forbid.
KNIGHTS	Traitor! traitor! traitor!
THOMAS	You, Reginald, three times traitor you: Traitor to me as my temporal vassal, Traitor to me as your spiritual lord, Traitor to God in desecrating His Church.
FIRST KNIGHT	No faith do I owe to a renegade, And what I owe shall now be paid.
THOMAS	Now to Almighty God, to the Blessed Mary ever Virgin, to the blessed John the Baptist, the holy apostles Peter and Paul, to the blessed martyr Denys, and to all the Saints, I commend my cause and that of the Church. While the KNIGHTS kill him, we hear the
CHORUS	Clear the air! clean the sky! wash the wind! take stone from         stone and wash them. The land is foul, the water is foul, our beasts and ourselves defiled         with blood. A rain of blood has blinded my eyes. Where is England? where is         Kent? where is Canterbury? O far far far far in the past; and I wander in a land of barren boughs:         if I break them, they bleed; I wander in a land of dry stones: if         I touch them they bleed. How how can I ever return, to the soft quiet seasons? Night stay with us, stop sun, hold season, let the day not come, let         the spring not come. Can I look again at the day and its common things, and see them         all smeared with blood, through a curtain of falling blood? We did not wish anything to happen. We understood the private catastrophe, The personal loss, the general misery, Living and partly living; The terror by night that ends in daily action, The terror by day that ends in sleep; But the talk in the market-place, the hand on the broom, The night-time heaping of the ashes, The fuel laid on the fire at daybreak, These acts marked a limit to our suffering. Every horror had its definition, Every sorrow had a kind of end: In life there is not time to grieve long. But this, this is out of life, this is out of time, An instant eternity of evil and wrong. We are soiled by a filth that we cannot clean, united to supernatural         vermin, It is not we alone, it is not the house, it is not the city that is defiled, But the world that is wholly foul. Clear the air! clean the sky! wash the wind! take the stone from the         stone, take the skin from the arm, take the muscle from the         bone, and wash them. Wash the stone, wash the bone, wash the         brain, wash the soul, wash them wash them!
(didascalia)	[The KNIGHTS, having completed the murder, advance to the front of the stage and address the audience.]
FIRST KNIGHT	We beg you to give us your attention for a few moments. We know that you may be disposed to judge unfavourably of our action. You are Englishmen, and therefore you believe in fair play: and when you see one man being set upon by four, then your sympathies are all with the under dog. I respect such feelings, I share them. Nevertheless, I appeal to your sense of honour. You are Englishmen, and therefore will not judge anybody without hearing both sides of the case. That is in accordance with our long-established principle of Trial by Jury. I am not myself qualified to put our case to you. I am a man of action and not of words. For that reason I shall do no more than introduce the other speakers, who, with their various abilities, and different points of view, will be able to lay before you the merits of this extremely complex problem. I shall call upon our eldest member to speak first, my neighbour in the country: Baron William de Traci.
THIRD KNIGHT	I am afraid I am not anything like such an experienced speaker as my old friend Reginald Fitz Urse would lead you to believe. But there is one thing I should like to say, and I might as well say it at once. It is this: in what we have done, and whatever you may think of it, we have been perfectly disinterested. [The other KNIGHTS: ‘Hear! hear!’] We are not getting anything out of this. We have much more to lose than to gain. We are four plain Englishmen who put our country first. I dare say that we didn’t make a very good impression when we came in just now. The fact is that we knew we had taken on a pretty stiff job; I’ll only speak for myself, but I had drunk a good deal — I am not a drinking man ordinarily — to brace myself up for it. When you come to the point, it does go against the grain to kill an Archbishop, especially when you have been brought up in good Church traditions. So if we seemed a bit rowdy, you will understand why it was; and for my part I am awfully sorry about it. We realised this was our duty, but all the same we had to work ourselves up to it. And, as I said, we are not getting a penny out of this. We know perfectly well how things will turn out. King Henry — God bless him — will have to say, for reasons of state, that he never meant this to happen; and there is going to be an awful row; and at the best we shall have to spend the rest of our lives abroad. And even when reasonable people come to see that the Archbishop had to be put out of the way — and personally I had a tremendous admiration for him — you must have noted what a good show he put up at the end — they won’t give us any glory. No, we have done for ourselves, there’s no mistake about that. So, as I said at the beginning, please give us at least the credit for being completely disinterested in this business. I think that is about all I have to say.
FIRST KNIGHT	I think we will all agree that William de Traci has spoken well and has made a very important point. The gist of his argument is this: that we have been completely disinterested. But our act itself needs more justification than that; and you must hear our other speakers. I shall next call upon Hugh de Morville, who has made a special study of statecraft and constitutional law. Sir Hugh de Morville.
SECOND KNIGHT	I should like first to recur to a point that was very well put by our leader, Reginald Fitz Urse: that you are Englishmen, and therefore your sympathies are always with the under dog. It is the English spirit of fair play. Now the worthy Archbishop, whose good qualities I very much admired, has throughout been presented as the under dog. But is this really the case? I am going to appeal not to your emotions but to your reason. You are hardheaded sensible people, as I can see, and not to be taken in by emotional clap-trap. I therefore ask you to consider soberly: what were the Archbishop’s aims? and what are King Henry’s aims? In the answer to these questions lies the key to the problem.        The King’s aim has been perfectly consistent. During the reign of the late Queen Matilda and the irruption of the unhappy usurper Stephen, the kingdom was very much divided. Our King saw that the one thing needful was to restore order: to curb the excessive powers of local government, which were usually exercised for selfish and often for seditious ends, and to reform the legal system. He therefore intended that Becket, who had proved himself an extremely able administrator — no one denies that — should unite the offices of Chancellor and Archbishop. Had Becket concurred with the King’s wishes, we should have had an almost ideal State: a union of spiritual and temporal administration, under the central government. I knew Becket well, in various official relations; and I may say that I have never known a man so well qualified for the highest rank of the Civil Service. And what happened? The moment that Becket, at the King’s instance, had been made Archbishop, he resigned the office of Chancellor, he became more priestly than the priests, he ostentatiously and offensively adopted an ascetic manner of life, he affirmed immediately that there was a higher order than that which our King, and he as the King’s servant, had for so many years striven to establish; and that — God knows why — the two orders were incompatible.        You will agree with me that such interference by an Archbishop offends the instincts of a people like ours. So far, I know that I have your approval: I read it in your faces. It is only with the measures we have had to adopt, in order to set matters to rights, that you take issue. No one regrets the necessity for violence more than we do. Unhappily, there are times when violence is the only way in which social justice can be secured. At another time, you would condemn an Archbishop by vote of Parliament and execute him formally as a traitor, and no one would have to bear the burden of being called murderer. And at a later time still, even such temperate measures as these would become unnecessary. But, if you have now arrived at a just subordination of the pretensions of the Church to the welfare of the State, remember that it is we who took the first step. We have been instrumental in bringing about the state of affairs that you approve. We have served your interests; we merit your applause; and if there is any guilt whatever in the matter, you must share it with us.
FIRST KNIGHT	Morville has given us a great deal to think about. It seems to me that he has said almost the last word, for those who have been able to follow his very subtle reasoning. We have, however, one more speaker, who has I think another point of view to express. If there are any who are still unconvinced, I think that Richard Brito, coming as he does of a family distinguished for its loyalty to the Church, will be able to convince them. Richard Brito.
FOURTH KNIGHT	The speakers who have preceded me, to say nothing of our leader, Reginald Fitz Urse, have all spoken very much to the point. I have nothing to add along their particular lines of argument. What I have to say may be put in the form of a question: Who killed the Archbishop? As you have been eye-witnesses of this lamentable scene, you may feel some surprise at my putting it in this way. But consider the course of events. I am obliged, very briefly, to go over the ground traversed by the last speaker. While the late Archbishop was Chancellor, no one, under the King, did more to weld the country together, to give it the unity, the stability, order, tranquillity, and justice that it so badly needed. From the moment he became Archbishop, he completely reversed his policy; he showed himself to be utterly indifferent to the fate of the country, to be, in fact, a monster of egotism. This egotism grew upon him, until it became at last an undoubted mania. I have unimpeachable evidence to the effect that before he left France he clearly prophesied, in the presence of numerous witnesses, that he had not long to live, and that he would be killed in England. He used every means of provocation; from his conduct, step by step, there can be no inference except that he had determined upon a death by martyrdom. Even at the last, he could have given us reason: you have seen how he evaded our questions. And when he had deliberately exasperated us beyond human endurance, he could still have easily escaped; he could have kept himself from us long enough to allow our righteous anger to cool. That was just what he did not wish to happen; he insisted, while we were still inflamed with wrath, that the doors should be opened. Need I say more? I think, with these facts before you, you will unhesitatingly render a verdict of Suicide while of Unsound Mind. It is the only charitable verdict you can give, upon one who was, after all, a great man.
FIRST KNIGHT	Thank you, Brito, I think that there is no more to be said; and I suggest that you now disperse quietly to your homes. Please be careful not to loiter in groups at street corners, and do nothing that might provoke any public outbreak.
(didascalia)	[Exeunt KNIGHTS]
FIRST PRIEST	O father, father, gone from us, lost to us, How shall we find you, from what far place Do you look down on us? You now in Heaven, Who shall now guide us, protect us, direct us? After what journey through what further dread Shall we recover your presence? when inherit Your strength? The Church lies bereft, Alone, desecrated, desolated, and the heathen shall build on the         ruins, Their world without God. I see it. I see it.
THIRD PRIEST	No. For the Church is stronger for this action, Triumphant in adversity. It is fortified By persecution: supreme, so long as men will die for it. Go, weak sad men, lost erring souls, homeless in earth or heaven. Go where the sunset reddens the last grey rock Of Brittany, or the Gates of Hercules. Go venture shipwreck on the sullen coasts Where blackamoors make captive Christian men; Go to the northern seas confined with ice Where the dead breath makes numb the hand, makes dull the brain; Find an oasis in the desert sun, Go seek alliance with the heathen Saracen, To share his filthy rites, and try to snatch Forgetfulness in his libidinous courts. Oblivion in the fountain by the date-tree; Or sit and bite your nails in Aquitaine. In the small circle of pain-within the skull You still shall tramp and tread one endless round Of thought, to justify your action to yourselves, Weaving a fiction which unravels as you weave, Pacing forever in the hell of make-believe Which never is belief: this is your fate on earth And we must think no further of you.
FIRST PRIEST	O my lord The glory of whose new state is hidden from us, Pray for us of your charity.
SECOND PRIEST	Now in the sight of God Conjoined with all the saints and martyrs gone before you,         Remember us.
THIRD PRIEST	Let our thanks ascend To God, who has given us another Saint in Canterbury. CHORUS [while a Te Deum is sung in Latin by a choir in the distance].         We praise Thee, O God, for Thy glory displayed in all the         creatures of the earth, In the snow, in the rain, in the wind, in the storm; in all of Thy         creatures, both the hunters and the hunted. For all things exist only as seen by Thee, only as known by Thee,         all things exist Only in Thy light, and Thy glory is declared even in that which         denies Thee; the darkness declares the glory of light. Those who deny Thee could not deny, if Thou didst not exist; and         their denial is never complete, for if it were so, they would not         exist. They affirm Thee in living; all things affirm Thee in living; the         bird in the air, both the hawk and the finch; the beast on the         earth, both the wolf and the lamb; the worm in the soil and the         worm in the belly. Therefore man, whom Thou hast made to be conscious of Thee,         must consciously praise Thee, in thought and in word and in         deed. Even with the hand to the broom, the back bent in laying the fire,         the knee bent in cleaning the hearth, we, the scrubbers and         sweepers of Canterbury, The back bent under toil, the knee bent under sin, the hands to the         face under fear, the head bent under grief, Even in us the voices of seasons, the snuffle of winter, the song of         spring, the drone of summer, the voices of beasts and of birds,         praise Thee. We thank Thee for Thy mercies of blood, for Thy redemption by         blood. For the blood of Thy martyrs and saints Shall enrich the earth, shall create the holy places. For wherever a saint has dwelt, wherever a martyr has given his         blood for the blood of Christ, There is holy ground, and the sanctity shall not depart from it Though armies trample over it, though sightseers come with guide-books looking over it; From where the western seas gnaw at the coast of Iona, To the death in the desert, the prayer in forgotten places by the broken imperial column, From such ground springs that which forever renews the earth Though it is forever denied. Therefore, O God, we thank Thee Who hast given such blessing to Canterbury. Forgive us, O Lord, we acknowledge ourselves as type of the         common man, Of the men and women who shut the door and sit by the fire; Who fear the blessing of God, the loneliness of the night of God,         the surrender required, the deprivation inflicted; Who fear the injustice of men less than the justice of God; Who fear the hand at the window, the fire in the thatch, the fist in         the tavern, the push into the canal, Less than we fear the love of God. We acknowledge our trespass, our weakness, our fault; we         acknowledge That the sin of the world is upon our heads; that the blood of the         martyrs and the agony of the saints Is upon our heads. Lord, have mercy upon us. Christ, have mercy upon us. Lord, have mercy upon us. Blessed Thomas, pray for us. THE FAMILY REUNION Persons AMY, DOWAGER LADY MONCHENSEY, IVY, VIOLET, and AGATHA, her younger sisters
COL	THE HON. GERALD PIPER, and THE HON. CHARLES PIPER, brothers of her deceased husband MARY, daughter of a deceased cousin of Lady Monchensey DENMAN, a parlourmaid HARRY, LORD MONCHENSEY, Amy’s eldest son DOWNING, his servant and chauffeur
DR	WARBURTON SERGEANT WINCHELL THE EUMENIDES The scene is laid in a country house in the North of England

PART I

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	The drawing-room, after tea. An afternoon in late March.

Scene I

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	AMY, IVY, VIOLET, AGATHA, GERALD, CHARLES, MARY
(didascalia)	[DENMAN enters to draw the curtains]
AMY	Not yet! I will ring for you. It is still quite light. I have nothing to do but watch the days draw out, Now that I sit in the house from October to June, And the swallow comes too soon and the spring will be over And the cuckoo will be gone before I am out again. O Sun, that was once so warm, O Light that was taken for granted When I was young and strong, and sun and light unsought for And the night unfeared and the day expected And clocks could be trusted, tomorrow assured And time would not stop in the dark! Put on the lights. But leave the curtains undrawn. Make up the fire. Will the spring never come? I am cold.
AGATHA	Wishwood was always a cold place, Amy.
IVY	I have always told Amy she should go south in the winter. Were I in Amy’s position, I would go south in the winter. I would follow the sun, not wait for the sun to come here. I would go south in the winter, if I could afford it, Not freeze, as I do, in Bayswater, by a gas-fire counting shillings.
VIOLET	Go south! to the English circulating libraries, To the military widows and the English chaplains, To the chilly deck-chair and the strong cold tea — The strong cold stewed bad Indian tea.
CHARLES	That’s not Amy’s style at all. We are country-bred people. Amy has been too long used to our ways Living with horses and dogs and guns Ever to want to leave England in the winter. But a single man like me is better off in London: A man can be very cosy at his club Even in an English winter.
GERALD	Well, as for me, I’d just as soon be a subaltern again To be back in the East. An incomparable climate For a man who can exercise a little common prudence; And your servants look after you very much better.
AMY	My servants are perfectly competent, Gerald. I can still see to that.
VIOLET	Well, as for me, I would never go south, no, definitely never, Even could I do it as well as Amy: England’s bad enough, I would never go south, Simply to see the vulgarest people — You can keep out of their way at home; People with money from heaven knows where —
GERALD	Dividends from aeroplane shares.
VIOLET	They bathe all day and they dance all night In the absolute minimum of clothes.
CHARLES	It’s the cocktail-drinking does the harm: There’s nothing on earth so bad for the young. All that a civilised person needs Is a glass of dry sherry or two before dinner. The modern young people don’t know what they’re drinking, Modern young people don’t care what they’re eating; They’ve lost their sense of taste and smell Because of their cocktails and cigarettes.
(didascalia)	[Enter DENMAN with sherry and whisky. CHARLES takes sherry and GERALD whisky.]
CHARLES	That’s what it comes to.
(didascalia)	[Lights a cigarette]
IVY	The younger generation Are undoubtedly decadent.
CHARLES	The younger generation Are not what we were. Haven’t the stamina, Haven’t the sense of responsibility.
GERALD	You’re being very hard on the younger generation. I don’t come across them very much now, myself; But I must say I’ve met some very decent specimens And some first-class shots — better than you were, Charles, as I remember. Besides, you’ve got to make allowances: We haven’t left them such an easy world to live in. Let the younger generation speak for itself: It’s Mary’s generation. What does she think about it?
MARY	Really, Cousin Gerald, if you want information About the younger generation, you must ask someone else. I’m afraid that I don’t deserve the compliment: I don’t belong to any generation.
(didascalia)	[Exit]
VIOLET	Really, Gerald, I must say you’re very tactless, And I think that Charles might have been more considerate.
GERALD	I’m very sorry: but why was she upset? I only meant to draw her into the conversation.
CHARLES	She’s a nice girl; but it’s a difficult age for her. I suppose she must be getting on for thirty? She ought to be married, that’s what it is.
AMY	So she should have been, if things had gone as I intended. Harry’s return does not make things easy for her At the moment: but life may still go right. Meanwhile, let us drop the subject. The less said the better.
GERALD	That reminds me, Amy, When are the boys all due to arrive?
AMY	I do not want the clock to stop in the dark. If you want to know why I never leave Wishwood That is the reason. I keep Wishwood alive To keep the family alive, to keep them together, To keep me alive, and I live to keep them. You none of you understand how old you are And death will come to you as a mild surprise, A momentary shudder in a vacant room. Only Agatha seems to discover some meaning in death Which I cannot find. — I am only certain of Arthur and John, Arthur in London, John in Leicestershire: They should both be here in good time for dinner. Harry telephoned to me from Marseilles, He would come by air to Paris, and so to London, And hoped to arrive in the course of the evening.
VIOLET	Harry was always the most likely to be late.
AMY	This time, it will not be his fault. We are very lucky to have Harry at all.
IVY	And when will you have your birthday cake, Amy, And open your presents?
AMY	After dinner: That is the best time.
IVY	It is the first time You have not had your cake and your presents at tea.
AMY	This is a very particular occasion As you ought to know. It will be the first time For eight years that we have all been together.
AGATHA	It is going to be rather painful for Harry After eight years and all that has happened To come back to Wishwood.
GERALD	Why, painful?
VIOLET	Gerald! you know what Agatha means.
AGATHA	I mean painful, because everything is irrevocable, Because the past is irremediable, Because the future can only be built Upon the real past. Wandering in the tropics Or against the painted scene of the Mediterranean, Harry must often have remembered Wishwood — The nursery tea, the school holiday, The daring feats on the old pony, And thought to creep back through the little door. He will find a new Wishwood. Adaptation is hard.
AMY	Nothing is changed, Agatha, at Wishwood. Everything is kept as it was when he left it, Except the old pony, and the mongrel setter Which I had to have destroyed. Nothing has been changed. I have seen to that.
AGATHA	Yes. I mean that at Wishwood he will find another Harry. The man who returns will have to meet The boy who left. Round by the stables, In the coach-house, in the orchard, In the plantation, down the corridor That led to the nursery, round the corner Of the new wing, he will have to face him — And it will not be a very jolly corner. When the loop in time comes — and it does not come for everybody — The hidden is revealed, and the spectres show themselves.
GERALD	I don’t in the least know what you’re talking about. You seem to be wanting to give us all the hump. I must say, this isn’t cheerful for Amy’s birthday Or for Harry’s homecoming. Make him feel at home, I say! Make him feel that what has happened doesn’t matter. He’s taken his medicine, I’ve no doubt. Let him marry again and carry on at Wishwood.
AMY	Thank you, Gerald. Though Agatha means As a rule, a good deal more than she cares to betray, I am bound to say that I agree with you.
CHARLES	I never wrote to him when he lost his wife — That was just about a year ago, wasn’t it? Do you think that I ought to mention it now? It seems to me too late.
AMY	Much too late. If he wants to talk about it, that’s another matter; But I don’t believe he will. He will wish to forget it. I do not mince matters in front of the family: You can call it nothing but a blessed relief. VIOLET, I call it providential.
IVY	Yet it must have been shocking, Especially to lose anybody in that way — Swept off the deck in the middle of a storm, And never even to recover the body.
CHARLES	‘Well-known Peeress Vanishes from Liner’.
GERALD	Yes, it’s odd to think of her as permanently missing.
VIOLET	Had she been drinking?
AMY	I would never ask him.
IVY	These things are much better not enquired into. She may have done it in a fit of temper.
GERALD	I never met her.
AMY	I am very glad you did not. I am very glad that none of you ever met her. It will make the situation very much easier And is why I was so anxious you should all be here. She never would have been one of the family, She never wished to be one of the family, She only wanted to keep him to herself To satisfy her vanity. That’s why she dragged him All over Europe and half round the world To expensive hotels and undesirable society Which she could choose herself. She never wanted Harry’s relations or Harry’s old friends; She never wanted to fit herself to Harry, But only to bring Harry down to her own level. A restless shivering painted shadow In life, she is less than a shadow in death. You might as well all of you know the truth For the sake of the future. There can be no grief And no regret and no remorse. I would have prevented it if I could. For the sake of the future: Harry is to take command at Wishwood And I hope we can contrive his future happiness. Do not discuss his absence. Please behave only As if nothing had happened in the last eight years.
GERALD	That will be a little difficult.
VIOLET	Nonsense, Gerald! You must see for yourself it’s the only thing to do.
AGATHA	Thus with most careful devotion Thus with precise attention To detail, interfering preparation Of that which is already prepared Men tighten the knot of confusion Into perfect misunderstanding, Reflecting a pocket-torch of observation Upon each other’s opacity Neglecting all the admonitions From the world around the corner The wind’s talk in the dry holly-tree The inclination of the moon The attraction of the dark passage The paw under the door. CHORUS (IVY, VIOLET, GERALD and CHARLES). Why do we feel embarrassed, impatient, fretful, ill at ease, Assembled like amateur actors who have not been assigned their parts? Like amateur actors in a dream when the curtain rises, to find themselves dressed for a different play, or having rehearsed the wrong parts, Waiting for the rustling in the stalls, the titter in the dress circle, the laughter and catcalls in the gallery?
CHARLES	I might have been in St. James’s Street, in a comfortable chair rather nearer the fire.
IVY	I might have been visiting Cousin Lily at Sidmouth, if I had not had to come to this party.
GERALD	I might have been staying with Compton-Smith, down at his place in Dorset.
VIOLET	I should have been helping Lady Bumpus, at the Vicar’s American Tea.
CHORUS	Yet we are here at Amy’s command, to play an unread part in some monstrous farce, ridiculous in some nightmare pantomime.
AMY	What’s that? I thought I saw someone pass the window. What time is it?
CHARLES	Nearly twenty to seven.
AMY	John should be here now, he has the shortest way to come. John at least, if not Arthur. Hark, there is someone coming: Yes, it must be John.
(didascalia)	[Enter HARRY]
AMY	Harry!
(didascalia)	[HARRY stops suddenly at the door and stares at the window]
IVY	Welcome, Harry!
GERALD	Well done!
VIOLET	Welcome home to Wishwood!
CHARLES	Why, what’s the matter?
AMY	Harry, if you want the curtains drawn you should let me ring for Denman.
HARRY	How can you sit in this blaze of light for all the world to look at? If you knew how you looked, when I saw you through the window! Do you like to be stared at by eyes through a window?
AMY	You forget, Harry, that you are at Wishwood, Not in town, where you have to close the blinds. There is no one to see you but our servants who belong here. And who all want to see you back, Harry.
HARRY	Look there, look there: do you see them?
GERALD	No, I don’t see anyone about.
HARRY	No, no, not there. Look there! Can’t you see them? You don’t see them, but I see them, And they see me. This is the first time that I have seen them. In the Java Straits, in the Sunda Sea, In the sweet sickly tropical night, I knew they were coming. In Italy, from behind the nightingale’s thicket, The eyes stared at me, and corrupted that song. Behind the palm trees in the Grand Hotel They were always there. But I did not see them. Why should they wait until I came back to Wishwood? There were a thousand places where I might have met them! Why here? why here?                                      Many happy returns of the day, mother. Aunt Ivy, Aunt Violet, Uncle Gerald, Uncle Charles. Agatha.
AMY	We are very glad to have you back, Harry. Now we shall all be together for dinner. The servants have been looking forward to your coming: Would you like to have them in after dinner Or wait till tomorrow? I am sure you must be tired. You will find everybody here, and everything the same. Mr. Bevan — you remember — wants to call tomorrow On some legal business, a question about taxes — But I think you would rather wait till you are rested. Your room is all ready for you. Nothing has been changed.
HARRY	Changed? nothing changed? how can you say that nothing is changed? You all look so withered and young.
GERALD	We must have a ride tomorrow. You’ll find you know the country as well as ever. There wasn’t an inch of it you didn’t know. But you’ll have to see about a couple of new hunters.
CHARLES	And I’ve a new wine merchant to recommend you; Your cellar could do with a little attention.
IVY	And you’ll really have to find a successor to old Hawkins. It’s really high time the old man was pensioned. He’s let the rock garden go to rack and ruin, And he’s nearly half blind. I’ve spoken to your mother Time and time again: she’s done nothing about it Because she preferred to wait for your coming.
VIOLET	And time and time again I have spoken to your mother About the waste that goes on in the kitchen. Mrs. Packell is too old to know what she is doing. It really needs a man in charge of things at Wishwood.
AMY	You see your aunts and uncles are very helpful, Harry. I have always found them forthcoming with advice Which I have never taken. Now it is your business. I have only struggled to keep Wishwood going And to make no changes before your return. Now it’s for you to manage. I am an old woman. They can give me no further advice when I’m dead.
IVY	Oh, dear Amy! No one wants you to die, I’m sure! Now that Harry’s back, is the time to think of living.
HARRY	Time and time and time, and change, no change! You all of you try to talk as if nothing had happened, And yet you are talking of nothing else. Why not get to the point Or if you want to pretend that I am another person — A person that you have conspired to invent, please do so In my absence. I shall be less embarrassing to you. Agatha?
AGATHA	I think, Harry, that having got so far — If you want no pretences, let us have no pretences: And you must try at once to make us understand, And we must try to understand you.
HARRY	But how can I explain, how can I explain to you? You will understand less after I have explained it. All that I could hope to make you understand Is only events: not what has happened. And people to whom nothing has ever happened Cannot understand the unimportance of events.
GERALD	Well, you can’t say that nothing has happened to me. I started as a youngster on the North-West Frontier — Been in tight corners most of my life And some pretty nasty messes.
CHARLES	And there isn’t much would surprise me, Harry; Or shock me, either.
HARRY	You are all people To whom nothing has happened, at most a continual impact Of external events. You have gone through life in sleep, Never woken to the nightmare. I tell you, life would be unendurable If you were wide awake. You do not know The noxious smell untraceable in the drains, Inaccessible to the plumbers, that has its hour of the night; you do not know The unspoken voice of sorrow in the ancient bedroom At three o’clock in the morning. I am not speaking Of my own experience, but trying to give you Comparisons in a more familiar medium. I am the old house With the noxious smell and the sorrow before morning, In which all past is present, all degradation Is unredeemable. As for what happens — Of the past you can only see what is past, Not what is always present. That is what matters.
AGATHA	Nevertheless, Harry, best tell us as you can: Talk in your own language, without stopping to debate Whether it may be too far beyond our understanding.
HARRY	The sudden solitude in a crowded desert In a thick smoke, many creatures moving Without direction, for no direction Leads anywhere but round and round in that vapour — Without purpose, and without principle of conduct In flickering intervals of light and darkness; The partial anæsthesia of suffering without feeling And partial observation of one’s own automatism While the slow stain sinks deeper through the skin Tainting the flesh and discolouring the bone — This is what matters, but it is unspeakable, Untranslatable: I talk in general terms Because the particular has no language. One thinks to escape By violence, but one is still alone In an over-crowded desert, jostled by ghosts. It was only reversing the senseless direction For a momentary rest on the burning wheel That cloudless night in the mid-Atlantic When I pushed her over.
VIOLET	Pushed her?
HARRY	You would never imagine anyone could sink so quickly. I had always supposed, wherever I went That she would be with me; whatever I did That she was unkillable. It was not like that. Everything is true in a different sense. I expected to find her when I went back to the cabin. Later, I became excited, I think I made enquiries; The purser and the steward were extremely sympathetic And the doctor very attentive. That night I slept heavily, alone.
AMY	Harry!
CHARLES	You mustn’t indulge such dangerous fancies. It’s only doing harm to your mother and yourself. Of course we know what really happened, we read it in the papers — No need to revert to it. Remember, my boy, I understand, your life together made it seem more horrible. There’s a lot in my own past life that presses on my chest When I wake, as I do now, early before morning. I understand these feelings better than you know — But you have no reason to reproach yourself. Your conscience can be clear.
HARRY	It goes a good deal deeper Than what people call their conscience; it is just the cancer That eats away the self. I knew how you would take it. First of all, you isolate the single event As something so dreadful that it couldn’t have happened, Because you could not bear it. So you must believe That I suffer from delusions. It is not my conscience, Not my mind, that is diseased, but the world I have to live in. — I lay two days in contented drowsiness; Then I recovered. I am afraid of sleep: A condition in which one can be caught for the last time. And also waking. She is nearer than ever. The contamination has reached the marrow And they are always near. Here, nearer than ever. They are very close here. I had not expected that.
AMY	Harry, Harry, you are very tired And overwrought. Coming so far And making such haste, the change is too sudden for you. You are unused to our foggy climate And the northern country. When you see Wishwood Again by day, all will be the same again. I beg you to go now and rest before dinner. Get Downing to draw you a hot bath, And you will feel better.
AGATHA	There are certain points I do not yet understand: They will be clear later. I am also convinced That you only hold a fragment of the explanation. It is only because of what you do not understand That you feel the need to declare what you do. There is more to understand: hold fast to that As the way to freedom.
HARRY	I think I see what you mean, Dimly — as you once explained the sobbing in the chimney The evil in the dark closet, which they said was not there, Which they explained away, but you explained them Or at least, made me cease to be afraid of them. I will go and have my bath.
(didascalia)	[Exit]
GERALD	God preserve us! I never thought it would be as bad as this.
VIOLET	There is only one thing to be done: Harry must see a doctor.
IVY	But I understand — I have heard of such cases before — that people in his condition Often betray the most immoderate resentment At such a suggestion. They can be very cunning — Their malady makes them so. They do not want to be cured And they know what you are thinking.
CHARLES	He has probably let this notion grow in his mind, Living among strangers, with no one to talk to. I suspect it is simply that the wish to get rid of her Makes him believe he did. He cannot trust his good fortune. I believe that all he needs is someone to talk to, To get it off his mind. I’ll have a talk to him tomorrow.
AMY	Most certainly not, Charles, you are not the right person. I prefer to believe that a few days at Wishwood Among his own family, is all that he needs.
GERALD	Nevertheless, Amy, there’s something in Violet’s suggestion. Why not ring up Warburton, and ask him to join us? He’s an old friend of the family, it’s perfectly natural That he should be asked. He looked after all the boys When they were children. I’ll have a word with him. He can talk to Harry, and Harry need have no suspicion. I’d trust Warburton’s opinion.
AMY	If anyone speaks to Dr. Warburton It should be myself. What does Agatha think?
AGATHA	It seems a necessary move In an unnecessary action, Not for the good that it will do But that nothing may be left undone On the margin of the impossible.
AMY	Very well. I will ring up the doctor myself.
(didascalia)	[Exit]
CHARLES	Meanwhile, I have an idea. Why not question Downing? He’s been with Harry ten years, he’s absolutely discreet. He was with them on the boat. He might be of use.
IVY	Charles! you don’t really suppose That he might have pushed her over?
CHARLES	In any case, I shouldn’t blame Harry. I might have done the same thing once, myself. Nobody knows what he’s likely to do Until there’s somebody he wants to get rid of.
GERALD	Even so, we don’t want Downing to know Any more than he knows already. And even if he knew, it’s very much better That he shouldn’t know that we knew it also. Why not let sleeping dogs lie?
CHARLES	All the same, there’s a question or two
(didascalia)	[Rings the bell]
CHARLES	That I’d like to ask Downing.                                                  He shan’t know why I’m asking.
(didascalia)	[Enter DENMAN]
CHARLES	Denman, where is Downing? Is he up with his Lordship?
DENMAN	He’s out in the garage, Sir, with his Lordship’s car.
CHARLES	Tell him I’d like to have a word with him, please.
(didascalia)	[Exit DENMAN]
VIOLET	Charles, if you are determined upon this investigation. Which I am convinced is going to lead us nowhere, And which I am sure Amy would disapprove of — I only wish to express my emphatic protest Both against your purpose and the means you are employing.
CHARLES	My purpose is, to find out what’s wrong with Harry: Until we know that, we can do nothing for him. And as for my means, we can’t afford to be squeamish In taking hold of anything that comes to hand. If you are interested in helping Harry You can hardly object to the means.
VIOLET	I do object.
IVY	And I wish to associate myself with my sister In her objections —
AGATHA	I have no objection, Any more than I object to asking Dr. Warburton: I only see that this is all quite irrelevant; We had better leave Charles to talk to Downing And pursue his own methods.
(didascalia)	[Rises]
VIOLET	I do not agree. I think there should be witnesses. I intend to remain. And I wish to be present to hear what Downing says. I want to know at once, not be told about it later.
IVY	And I shall stay with Violet.
AGATHA	I shall return When Downing has left you.
(didascalia)	[Exit]
CHARLES	Well, I’m very sorry You all see it like this: but there simply are times When there’s nothing to do but take the bull by the horns, And this is one.
(didascalia)	[Knock: and enter DOWNING]
CHARLES	Good evening, Downing. It’s good to see you again, after all these years. You’re well, I hope?
DOWNING	Thank you, very well indeed, Sir.
CHARLES	I’m sorry to send for you so abruptly, But I’ve a question I’d like to put to you, I’m sure you won’t mind, it’s about his Lordship. You’ve looked after his Lordship for over ten years …
DOWNING	Eleven years, Sir, next Lady Day.
CHARLES	Eleven years, and you know him pretty well. And I’m sure that you’ve been a good friend to him, too. We haven’t seen him for nearly eight years; And to tell the truth, now that we’ve seen him, We’re a little worried about his health. He doesn’t seem to be … quite himself.
DOWNING	Quite natural, if I may say so, Sir, After what happened.
CHARLES	Quite so, quite. Downing, you were with them on the voyage from New York — We didn’t learn very much about the circumstances; We only knew what we read in the papers — Of course, there was a great deal too much in the papers. Downing, do you think that it might have been suicide, And that his Lordship knew it?
DOWNING	Unlikely, Sir, if I may say so. Much more likely to have been an accident. I mean, knowing her Ladyship, I don’t think she had the courage.
CHARLES	Did she ever talk of suicide?
DOWNING	Oh yes, she did, every now and again. But in my opinion, it is those that talk That are the least likely. To my way of thinking She only did it to frighten people. If you take my meaning — just for the effect.
CHARLES	I understand, Downing. Was she in good spirits?
DOWNING	Well, always about the same, Sir. What I mean is, always up and down. Down in the morning, and up in the evening, And then she used to get rather excited, And, in a way, irresponsible, Sir. If I may make so bold, Sir, I always thought that a very few cocktails Went a long way with her Ladyship. She wasn’t one of those that are designed for drinking: It’s natural for some and unnatural for others.
CHARLES	And how was his Lordship, during the voyage?
DOWNING	Well, you might say depressed, Sir. But you know his Lordship was always very quiet: Very uncommon that I saw him in high spirits. For what my judgment’s worth, I always said his Lordship Suffered from what they call a kind of repression. But what struck me … more nervous than usual; I mean to say, you could see that he was nervous. He behaved as if he thought something might happen.
CHARLES	What sort of thing?
DOWNING	Well, I don’t know, Sir. But he seemed very anxious about my Lady. Tried to keep her in when the weather was rough, Didn’t like to see her lean over the rail. He was in a rare fright, once or twice. But you know, it is just my opinion, Sir, That his Lordship is rather psychic, as they say.
CHARLES	Were they always together?
DOWNING	Always, Sir. That was just my complaint against my Lady. It’s my opinion that man and wife Shouldn’t see too much of each other, Sir. Quite the contrary of the usual opinion, I dare say. She wouldn’t leave him alone. And there’s my complaint against these ocean liners With all their swimming baths and gymnasiums There’s not even a place where a man can go For a quiet smoke, where the women can’t follow him. She wouldn’t leave him out of her sight.
CHARLES	During that evening, did you see him?
DOWNING	Oh yes, Sir, I’m sure I saw him. I don’t mean to say that he had any orders — His Lordship is always most considerate About keeping me up. But when I say I saw him, I mean that I saw him accidental. You see, Sir, I was down in the Tourist, And I took a bit of air before I went to bed, And you could see the corner of the upper deck. And I remember, there I saw his Lordship Leaning over the rail, looking at the water — There wasn’t a moon, but I was sure it was him. While I took my turn about, for near half an hour He stayed there alone, looking over the rail. Her Ladyship must have been all right then, Mustn’t she, Sir? or else he’d have known it.
CHARLES	Oh yes … quite so. Thank you, Downing, I don’t think we need you any more.
GERALD	Oh, Downing, Is there anything wrong with his Lordship’s car?
DOWNING	Oh no, Sir, she’s in good running order: I see to that.
GERALD	I only wondered Why you’ve been busy about it tonight.
DOWNING	Nothing wrong, Sir: Only I like to have her always ready. Would there be anything more, Sir?
GERALD	Thank you, Downing; Nothing more.
(didascalia)	[Exit DOWNING]
VIOLET	Well, Charles, I must say, with your investigations, You seem to have left matters much as they were — Except for having brought Downing into it: Of which I disapprove.
CHARLES	Of which you disapprove. But I believe that an unconscious accomplice is desirable.
CHORUS	Why should we stand here like guilty conspirators, waiting for some revelation When the hidden shall be exposed, and the newsboy shall shout in the street? When the private shall be made public, the common photographer Flashlight for the picture papers: why do we huddle together In a horrid amity of misfortune? why should we be implicated, brought in and brought together?
IVY	I do not trust Charles with his confident vulgarity, acquired from worldly associates.
GERALD	Ivy is only concerned for herself, and her credit among her shabby genteel acquaintance.
VIOLET	Gerald is certain to make some blunder, he is useless out of the army.
CHARLES	Violet is afraid that her status as Amy’s sister will be diminished.
CHORUS	We all of us make the pretension To be the uncommon exception To the universal bondage. We like to appear in the newspapers So long as we are in the right column. We know about the railway accident We know about the sudden thrombosis And the slowly hardening artery. We like to be thought well of by others So that we may think well of ourselves. And any explanation will satisfy: We only ask to be reassured About the noises in the cellar And the window that should not have been open. Why do we all behave as if the door might suddenly open, the curtains be drawn, The cellar make some dreadful disclosure, the roof disappear, And we should cease to be sure of what is real or unreal? Hold tight, hold tight, we must insist that the world is what we have always taken it to be. AMY’S VOICE. Ivy! Violet! has Arthur or John come yet?
IVY	There is no news of Arthur or John.
(didascalia)	[Enter AMY and AGATHA]
AMY	It is very annoying. They both promised to be here In good time for dinner. It is very annoying. Now they can hardly arrive in time to dress. I do not understand what could have gone wrong With both of them, coming from different directions. Well, we must go and dress, I suppose. I hope Harry will feel better After his rest upstairs.
(didascalia)	[Exeunt, except AGATHA]

Scene II

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	AGATHA
(didascalia)	[Enter MARY with flowers]
MARY	The spring is very late in this northern country‚ Late and uncertain, clings to the south wall. The gardener had no garden-flowers to give me for this evening.
AGATHA	I always forget how late the spring is, here.
MARY	I had rather wait for our windblown blossoms, Such as they are, than have these greenhouse flowers Which do not belong here, which do not know The wind and rain, as I know them.
AGATHA	I wonder how many we shall be for dinner.
MARY	Seven … nine … ten surely. I hear that Harry has arrived already And he was the only one that was uncertain. Arthur or John may be late, of course. We may have to keep the dinner back …
AGATHA	And also Dr. Warburton. At least, Amy has invited him.
MARY	Dr. Warburton? I think she might have told me; It is very difficult, having to plan For uncertain numbers. Why did she ask him?
AGATHA	She only thought of asking him a little while ago.
MARY	Well, there’s something to be said for having an outsider; For what is more formal than a family dinner? An official occasion of uncomfortable people Who meet very seldom, making conversation. I am very glad if Dr. Warburton is coming. I shall have to sit between Arthur and John. Which is worse, thinking of what to say to John, Or having to listen to Arthur’s chatter When he thinks he is behaving like a man of the world? Cousin Agatha, I want your advice.
AGATHA	I should have thought You had more than you wanted of that, when at college.
MARY	I might have known you’d throw that up against me. I know I wasn’t one of your favourite students: I only saw you as a hard headmistress Who knew the way of dominating timid girls. I don’t see you any differently now; But I really wish that I’d taken your advice And tried for a fellowship, seven years ago. Now I want your advice, because there’s no one else to ask, And because you are strong, and because you don’t belong here Any more than I do. I want to get away.
AGATHA	After seven years?
MARY	Oh, you don’t understand! But you do understand. You only want to know Whether I understand. You know perfectly well, What Cousin Amy wants, she usually gets. Why do you so seldom come here? You’re not afraid of her, But I think you must have wanted to avoid collision. I suppose I could have gone, if I’d had the moral courage, Even against a will like hers. I know very well Why she wanted to keep me. She didn’t need me: She would have done just as well with a hired servant Or with none. She only wanted me for Harry — Not such a compliment: she only wanted To have a tame daughter-in-law with very little money, A housekeeper-companion for her and Harry. Even when he married, she still held on to me Because she couldn’t bear to let any project go; And even when she died: I believed that Cousin Amy — I almost believed it — had killed her by willing. Doesn’t that sound awful? I know that it does. Did you ever meet her? What was she like?
AGATHA	I am the only one who ever met her, The only one Harry asked to his wedding: Amy did not know that. I was sorry for her; I could see that she distrusted me — she was frightened of the family, She wanted to fight them — with the weapons of the weak, Which are too violent. And it could not have been easy, Living with Harry. It’s not what she did to Harry, That’s important, I think, but what he did to himself.
MARY	But it wasn’t till I knew that Harry had returned That I felt the strength to go. I know I must go. But where? I want a job: and you can help me.
AGATHA	I am very sorry, Mary, I am very sorry for you; Though you may not think me capable of such a feeling. I would like to help you: but you must not run away. Any time before now, it would have shown courage And would have been right. Now, the courage is only the moment And the moment is only fear and pride. I see more than this, More than I can tell you, more than there are words for. At this moment, there is no decision to be made; The decision will be made by powers beyond us Which now and then emerge. You and I, Mary, Are only watchers and waiters: not the easiest rôle. I must go and change for dinner.
(didascalia)	[Exit]
MARY	So you will not help me! Waiting, waiting, always waiting. I think this house means to keep us waiting.
(didascalia)	[Enter HARRY]
HARRY	Waiting? For what?
MARY	How do you do, Harry. You are down very early. I thought you had just arrived. Did you have a comfortable journey?
HARRY	Not very. But, at least, it did not last long. How are you, Mary?
MARY	Oh, very well. What are you looking for?
HARRY	I had only just noticed that this room is quite unchanged: The same hangings … the same pictures … even the table, The chairs, the sofa … all in the same positions. I was looking to see if anything was changed, But if so, I can’t find it.
MARY	Your mother insisted On everything being kept the same as when you left it.
HARRY	I wish she had not done that. It’s very unnatural, This arresting of the normal change of things: But it’s very like her. What I might have expected. It only makes the changing of people All the more manifest.
MARY	Yes, nothing changes here, And we just go on … drying up, I suppose, Not noticing the change. But to you, I am sure, We must seem very altered.
HARRY	You have hardly changed at all — And I haven’t seen you since you came down from Oxford.
MARY	Well, I must go and change for dinner. We do change — to that extent.
HARRY	No, don’t go just yet.
MARY	Are you glad to be at home?
HARRY	There was something I wanted to ask you. I don’t know yet. All these years I’d been longing to get back Because I thought I never should. I thought it was a place Where life was substantial and simplified — But the simplification took place in my memory, I think. It seems I shall get rid of nothing. Of none of the shadows that I wanted to escape; And at the same time, other memories, Earlier, forgotten, begin to return Out of my childhood. I can’t explain. But I thought I might escape from one life to another, And it may be all one life, with no escape. Tell me, Were you ever happy here, as a child at Wishwood?
MARY	Happy? not really, though I never knew why: It always seemed that it must be my own fault, And never to be happy was always to be naughty. But there were reasons: I was only a cousin Kept here because there was nothing else to do with me. I didn’t belong here. It was different for you. And you seemed so much older. We were rather in awe of you — At least, I was.
HARRY	Why were we not happy?
MARY	Well, it all seemed to be imposed upon us; Even the nice things were laid out ready, And the treats were always so carefully prepared; There was never any time to invent our own enjoyments. But perhaps it was all designed for you, not for us.
HARRY	No, it didn’t seem like that. I was part of the design As well as you. But what was the design? It never came off. But do you remember
MARY	The hollow tree in what we called the wilderness
HARRY	Down near the river. That was the stockade From which we fought the Indians, Arthur and John.
MARY	It was the cave where we met by moonlight To raise the evil spirits.
HARRY	Arthur and John. Of course we were punished for being out at night After being put to bed. But at least they never knew Where we had been.
MARY	They never found the secret.
HARRY	Not then. But later, coming back from school For the holidays, after the formal reception And the family festivities, I made my escape As soon as I could, and slipped down to the river To find the old hiding place. The wilderness was gone, The tree had been felled, and a neat summer-house Had been erected, ‘to please the children’. It’s absurd that one’s only memory of freedom Should be a hollow tree in a wood by the river.
MARY	But when I was a child I took everything for granted, Including the stupidity of older people — They lived in another world, which did not touch me. Just now, I find them very difficult to bear. They are always assured that you ought to be happy At the very moment when you are wholly conscious Of being a misfit, of being superfluous. But why should I talk about my commonplace troubles? They must seem very trivial indeed to you. It’s just ordinary hopelessness.
HARRY	One thing you cannot know: The sudden extinction of every alternative, The unexpected crash of the iron cataract. You do not know what hope is, until you have lost it. You only know what it is not to hope: You do not know what it is to have hope taken from you, Or to fling it away, to join the legion of the hopeless Unrecognised by other men, though sometimes by each other.
MARY	I know what you mean. That is an experience I have not had. Nevertheless, however real, However cruel, it may be a deception.
HARRY	What I see May be one dream or another; if there is nothing else The most real is what I fear. The bright colour fades Together with the unrecapturable emotion, The glow upon the world, that never found its object; And the eye adjusts itself to a twilight Where the dead stone is seen to be batrachian, The aphyllous branch ophidian.
MARY	You bring your own landscape No more real than the other. And in a way you contradict yourself: That sudden comprehension of the death of hope Of which you speak, I know you have experienced it, And I can well imagine how awful it must be. But in this world another hope keeps springing In an unexpected place, while we are unconscious of it. You hoped for something, in coming back to Wishwood, Or you would not have come.
HARRY	Whatever I hoped for Now that I am here I know I shall not find it. The instinct to return to the point of departure And start again as if nothing had happened, Isn’t that all folly? It’s like the hollow tree, Not there.
MARY	But surely, what you say Only proves that you expected Wishwood To be your real self, to do something for you That you can only do for yourself. What you need to alter is something inside you Which you can change anywhere — here, as well as elsewhere.
HARRY	Something inside me, you think, that can be altered! And here, indeed! where I have felt them near me, Here and here and here — wherever I am not looking, Always flickering at the corner of my eye, Almost whispering just out of earshot — And inside too, in the nightly panic Of dreaming dissolution. You do not know, You cannot know, you cannot understand.
MARY	I think I could understand, but you would have to be patient With me, and with people who have not had your experience.
HARRY	If I tried to explain, you could never understand: Explaining would only make a worse misunderstanding; Explaining would only set me farther away from you. There is only one way for you to understand And that is by seeing. They are much too clever To admit you into our world. Yours is no better. They have seen to that: it is part of the torment.
MARY	If you think I am incapable of understanding you — But in any case, I must get ready for dinner.
HARRY	No, no, don’t go! Please don’t leave me Just at this moment. I feel it is important. Something should have come of this conversation.
MARY	I am not a wise person, And in the ordinary sense I don’t know you very well, Although I remember you better than you think, And what is the real you. I haven’t much experience, But I see something now which doesn’t come from tutors Or from books, or from thinking, or from observation: Something which I did not know I knew. Even if, as you say, Wishwood is a cheat, Your family a delusion — then it’s all a delusion, Everything you feel — I don’t mean what you think, But what you feel. You attach yourself to loathing As others do to loving: an infatuation That’s wrong, a good that’s misdirected. You deceive yourself Like the man convinced that he is paralysed Or like the man who believes that he is blind While he still sees the sunlight. I know that this is true.
HARRY	I have spent many years in useless travel; You have staid in England, yet you seem Like someone who comes from a very long distance, Or the distant waterfall in the forest, Inaccessible, half-heard. And I hear your voice as in the silence Between two storms, one hears the moderate usual noises In the grass and leaves, of life persisting, Which ordinarily pass unnoticed. Perhaps you are right, though I do not know How you should know it. Is the cold spring Is the spring not an evil time, that excites us with lying voices?
MARY	The cold spring now is the time For the ache in the moving root The agony in the dark The slow flow throbbing the trunk The pain of the breaking bud. These are the ones that suffer least: The aconite under the snow And the snowdrop crying for a moment in the wood.
HARRY	Spring is an issue of blood A season of sacrifice And the wail of the new full tide Returning the ghosts of the dead Those whom the winter drowned Do not the ghosts of the drowned Return to land in the spring? Do the dead want to return?
MARY	Pain is the opposite of joy But joy is a kind of pain I believe the moment of birth Is when we have knowledge of death I believe the season of birth Is the season of sacrifice For the tree and the beast, and the fish Thrashing itself upstream: And what of the terrified spirit Compelled to be reborn To rise toward the violent sun Wet wings into the rain cloud Harefoot over the moon?
HARRY	What have we been saying? I think I was saying That it seemed as if I had been always here And you were someone who had come from a long distance. Whether I know what I am saying, or why I say it, That does not matter. You bring me news Of a door that opens at the end of a corridor, Sunlight and singing; when I had felt sure That every corridor only led to another, Or to a blank wall; that I kept moving Only so as not to stay still. Singing and light. Stop! What is that? do you feel it?
MARY	What, Harry?
HARRY	That apprehension deeper than all sense, Deeper than the sense of smell, but like a smell In that it is indescribable, a sweet and bitter smell From another world. I know it, I know it! More potent than ever before, a vapour dissolving All other worlds, and me into it. O Mary! Don’t look at me like that! Stop! Try to stop it! I am going. Oh why, now? Come out! Come out! Where are you? Let me see you, Since I know you are there, I know you are spying on me. Why do you play with me, why do you let me go, Only to surround me? — When I remember them They leave me alone: when I forget them Only for an instant of inattention They are roused again, the sleepless hunters That will not let me sleep. At the moment before sleep I always see their claws distended Quietly, as if they had never stirred. It was only a moment, it was only one moment That I stood in sunlight, and thought I might stay there.
MARY	Look at me. You can depend on me. Harry! Harry! It’s all right, I tell you. If you will depend on me, it will be all right.
HARRY	Come out!
(didascalia)	[The curtains part, revealing the Eumenides in the window embrasure.]
HARRY	Why do you show yourselves now for the first time? When I knew her, I was not the same person. I was not any person. Nothing that I did Has to do with me. The accident of a dreaming moment, Of a dreaming age, when I was someone else Thinking of something else, puts me among you. I tell you, it is not me you are looking at, Not me you are grinning at, not me your confidential looks Incriminate, but that other person, if person You thought I was: let your necrophily Feed upon that carcase. They will not go.
MARY	Harry! There is no one here.
(didascalia)	[She goes to the window and pulls the curtains across]
HARRY	They were here, I tell you. They are here. Are you so imperceptive, have you such dull senses That you could not see them? If I had realised That you were so obtuse, I would not have listened To your nonsense. Can’t you help me? You’re of no use to me. I must face them. I must fight them. But they are stupid. How can one fight with stupidity? Yet I must speak to them.
(didascalia)	[He rushes forward and tears apart the curtains: but the embrasure is empty.]
MARY	Oh, Harry!

Scene III

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	HARRY, MARY, IVY, VIOLET, GERALD, CHARLES
VIOLET	Good evening, Mary: aren’t you dressed yet? How do you think that Harry is looking? Why, who could have pulled those curtains apart?
(didascalia)	[Pulls them together]
VIOLET	Very well, I think, after such a long journey; You know what a rush he had to be here in time For his mother’s birthday.
IVY	Mary, my dear, Did you arrange these flowers? Just let me change them. You don’t mind, do you? I know so much about flowers; Flowers have always been my passion. You know I had my own garden once, in Cornwall, When I could afford a garden; and I took several prizes With my delphiniums. I was rather an authority.
GERALD	Good evening, Mary. You’ve seen Harry, I see. It’s good to have him back again, isn’t it? We must make him feel at home. And most auspicious That he could be here for his mother’s birthday.
MARY	I must go and change. I came in very late.
(didascalia)	[Exit]
CHARLES	Now we only want Arthur and John I’m glad that you’ll all be together, Harry; They need the influence of their elder brother. Arthur’s a bit irresponsible, you know; You should have a sobering effect upon him. After all, you’re the head of the family. AMY’S VOICE. Violet! Has Arthur or John come yet?
VIOLET	Neither of them is here yet, Amy.
(didascalia)	[Enter AMY, with DR. WARBURTON]
AMY	It is most vexing. What can have happened? I suppose it’s the fog that is holding them up, So it’s no use to telephone anywhere. Harry! Haven’t you seen Dr. Warburton? You know he’s the oldest friend of the family, And he’s known you longer than anybody, Harry. When he heard that you were going to be here for dinner He broke an important engagement to come.
WARBURTON	I dare say we’ve both changed a good deal, Harry. A country practitioner doesn’t get younger. It takes me back longer than you can remember To see you again. But you can’t have forgotten The day when you came back from school with measles And we had such a time to keep you in bed. You didn’t like being ill in the holidays.
IVY	It was unpleasant, coming home to have an illness.
VIOLET	It was always the same with your minor ailments And children’s epidemics: you would never stay in bed Because you were convinced that you would never get well.
HARRY	Not, I think, without some justification: For what you call restoration to health Is only incubation of another malady.
WARBURTON	You mustn’t take such a pessimistic view Which is hardly complimentary to my profession. But I remember, when I was a student at Cambridge, I used to dream of making some great discovery To do away with one disease or another. Now I’ve had forty years’ experience I’ve left off thinking in terms of the laboratory. We’re all of us ill in one way or another: We call it health when we find no symptom Of illness. Health is a relative term.
IVY	You must have had a very rich experience, Doctor, In forty years.
WARBURTON	Indeed, yes. Even in a country practice. My first patient, now — You wouldn’t believe it, ladies — was a murderer, Who suffered from an incurable cancer. How he fought against it! I never saw a man More anxious to live.
HARRY	Not at all extraordinary. It is really harder to believe in murder Than to believe in cancer. Cancer is here: The lump, the dull pain, the occasional sickness: Murder a reversal of sleep and waking. Murder was there. Your ordinary murderer Regards himself as an innocent victim. To himself he is still what he used to be Or what he would be. He cannot realise That everything is irrevocable, The past unredeemable. But cancer, now, That is something real.
WARBURTON	Well, let’s not talk of such matters. How did we get onto the subject of cancer? I really don’t know. — But now you’re all grown up I haven’t a patient left at Wishwood. Wishwood was always a cold place, but healthy. It’s only when I get an invitation to dinner That I ever see your mother.
VIOLET	Yes, look at your mother! Except that she can’t get about now in winter You wouldn’t think that she was a day older Than on her birthday ten years ago.
GERALD	Is there any use in waiting for Arthur and John?
AMY	We might as well go in to dinner. They may come before we finish. Will you take me in, Doctor? I think we are very much the oldest present — In fact we are the oldest inhabitants. As we came first, we will go first, in to dinner.
WARBURTON	With pleasure, Lady Monchensey, And I hope that next year will bring me the same honour.
(didascalia)	[Exeunt AMY, DR. WARBURTON, HARRY]
CHORUS	I am afraid of all that has happened, and of all that is to come; Of the things to come that sit at the door, as if they had been there always. And the past is about to happen, and the future was long since settled. And the wings of the future darken the past, the beak and claws have desecrated History. Shamed The first cry in the bedroom, the noise in the nursery, mutilated The family album, rendered ludicrous The tenants’ dinner, the family picnic on the moors. Have torn The roof from the house, or perhaps it was never there. And the bird sits on the broken chimney. I am afraid.
IVY	This is a most undignified terror, and I must struggle against it.
GERALD	I am used to tangible danger, but only to what I can understand.
VIOLET	It is the obtuseness of Gerald and Charles and that doctor, that gets on my nerves.
CHARLES	If the matter were left in my hands, I think I could manage the situation.
(didascalia)	[Exeunt]
(didascalia)	[Enter MARY, and passes through to dinner. Enter AGATHA]
AGATHA	The eye is on this house The eye covers it There are three together May the three be separated May the knot that was tied Become unknotted May the crossed bones In the filled-up well Be at last straightened May the weasel and the otter Be about their proper business The eye of the day time And the eye of the night time Be diverted from this house Till the knot is unknotted The crossed is uncrossed And the crooked is made straight.
(didascalia)	[Exit to dinner]
AGATHA	END OF PART I

PART II

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	The library, after dinner.

Scene I

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	HARRY, WARBURTON
WARBURTON	I’m glad of a few minutes alone with you, Harry. In fact, I had another reason for coming this evening Than simply in honour of your mother’s birthday. I wanted a private conversation with you On a confidential matter.
HARRY	I can imagine — Though I think it is probably going to be useless, Or if anything, make matters rather more difficult. But talk about it, if you like.
WARBURTON	You don’t understand me. I’m sure you cannot know what is on my mind; And as for making matters more difficult — It is much more difficult not to be prepared For something that is very likely to happen.
HARRY	O God, man, the things that are going to happen Have already happened.
WARBURTON	That is in a sense true, But without your knowing it, and what you know Or do not know, at any moment May make an endless difference to the future. It’s about your mother …
HARRY	What about my mother? Everything has always been referred back to mother. When we were children, before we went to school, The rule of conduct was simply pleasing mother; Misconduct was simply being unkind to mother; What was wrong was whatever made her suffer, And whatever made her happy was what was virtuous — Though never very happy, I remember. That was why We all felt like failures, before we had begun. When we came back, for the school holidays, They were not holidays, but simply a time In which we were supposed to make up to mother For all the weeks during which she had not seen us Except at half-term, and seeing us then Only seemed to make her more unhappy, and made us Feel more guilty, and so we misbehaved Next day at school, in order to be punished, For punishment made us feel less guilty. Mother Never punished us, but made us feel guilty. I think that the things that are taken for granted At home, make a deeper impression upon children Than what they are told.
WARBURTON	Stop, Harry, you’re mistaken. I mean, you don’t know what I want to tell you. You may be quite right, but what we are concerned with Now, is your mother’s happiness in the future, For the time she has to live: not with the past.
HARRY	Oh, is there any difference! How can we be concerned with the past And not with the future? or with the future And not with the past? What I’m telling you Is very important. Very important. You must let me explain, and then you can talk. I don’t know why, but just this evening I feel an overwhelming need for explanation — But perhaps I only dream that I am talking And shall wake to find that I have been silent Or talked to the stone deaf: and the others Seem to hear something else than what I am saying. But if you want to talk, at least you can tell me Something useful. Do you remember my father?
WARBURTON	Why, yes, of course, Harry, but I really don’t see What that has to do with the present occasion Or with what I have to tell you.
HARRY	What you have to tell me Is either something that I know already Or unimportant, or else untrue. But I want to know more about my father. I hardly remember him, and I know very well That I was kept apart from him, till he went away. We never heard him mentioned, but in some way or another We felt that he was always here. But when we would have grasped for him, there was only a vacuum Surrounded by whispering aunts: Ivy and Violet — Agatha never came then. Where was my father?
WARBURTON	Harry, there’s no good probing for misery. There was enough once: but what festered Then, has only left a cautery. Leave it alone. You know that your mother And your father were never very happy together: They separated by mutual consent And he went to live abroad. You were only a boy When he died. You would not remember.
HARRY	But now I do remember. Not Arthur or John, They were too young. But now I remember A summer day of unusual heat, The day I lost my butterfly net; I remember the silence, and the hushed excitement And the low conversation of triumphant aunts. It is the conversations not overheard, Not intended to be heard, with the sidewise looks, That bring death into the heart of a child. That was the day he died. Of course. I mean, I suppose, the day on which the news arrived.
WARBURTON	You overinterpret. I am sure that your mother always loved him; There was never the slightest suspicion of scandal.
HARRY	Scandal? who said scandal? I did not. Yes, I see now. That night, when she kissed me, I felt the trap close. If you won’t tell me, I must ask Agatha. I never dared before.
WARBURTON	I advise you strongly, not to ask your aunt — I mean, there is nothing she could tell you. But, Harry, We can’t sit here all the evening, you know; You will have to have the birthday celebration, And your brothers will be here. Won’t you let me tell you What I had to say?
HARRY	Very well, tell me.
WARBURTON	It’s about your mother’s health that I wanted to talk to you. I must tell you, Harry, that although your mother Is still so alert, so vigorous of mind, Although she seems as vital as ever — It is only the force of her personality, Her indomitable will, that keeps her alive. I needn’t go into technicalities At the present moment. The whole machine is weak And running down. Her heart’s very feeble. With care, and avoiding all excitement She may live several years. A sudden shock Might send her off at any moment. If she had been another woman She would not have lived until now. Her determination has kept her going: She has only lived for your return to Wishwood, For you to take command at Wishwood, And for that reason, it is most essential That nothing should disturb or excite her.
HARRY	Well!
WARBURTON	I’m very sorry for you, Harry. I should have liked to spare you this, Just now. But there were two reasons Why you had to know. One is your mother, To make her happy for the time she has to live. The other is yourself: the future of Wishwood Depends on you. I don’t like to say this; But you know that I am a very old friend, And have always been a party to the family secrets — You know as well as I do that Arthur and John Have been a great disappointment to your mother. John’s very steady — but he’s not exactly brilliant; And Arthur has always been rather irresponsible. Your mother’s hopes are all centred on you.
HARRY	Hopes? … Tell me Did you know my father at about my present age?
WARBURTON	Why, yes, Harry, of course I did.
HARRY	What did he look like then? Did he look at all like me?
WARBURTON	Very much like you. Of course there are differences: But, allowing for the changes in fashion And your being clean-shaven, very much like you. And now, Harry, let’s talk about yourself.
HARRY	I never saw a photograph. There is no portrait.
WARBURTON	What I want to know is, whether you’ve been sleeping …
(didascalia)	[Enter DENMAN]
DENMAN	It’s Sergeant Winchell is here, my Lord, And wants to see your Lordship very urgent, And Dr. Warburton. He says it’s very urgent Or he wouldn’t have troubled you.
HARRY	I’ll see him.
(didascalia)	[Exit DENMAN]
WARBURTON	I wonder what he wants. I hope nothing has happened To either of your brothers.
HARRY	Nothing can have happened To either of my brothers. Nothing can happen — If Sergeant Winchell is real. But Denman saw him. But what if Denman saw him, and yet he was not real? That would be worse than anything that has happened. What if you saw him, and …
WARBURTON	Harry! Pull yourself together. Something may have happened to one of your brothers.
(didascalia)	[Enter WINCHELL]
WINCHELL	Good evening, my Lord. Good evening, Doctor. Many happy … Oh, I’m sorry, my Lord, I was thinking it was your birthday, not her Ladyship’s.
HARRY	Her Ladyship’s!
(didascalia)	[He darts at WINCHELL and seizes him by the shoulders]
HARRY	He is real, Doctor. So let us resume the conversation. You, and I And Winchell. Sit down, Winchell, And have a glass of port. We were talking of my father.
WINCHELL	Always at your jokes, I see. You don’t look a year older Than when I saw you last, my Lord. But a country sergeant Doesn’t get younger. Thank you, no, my Lord; I don’t find port agrees with the rheumatism.
WARBURTON	For God’s sake, Winchell, tell us your business. His Lordship isn’t very well this evening.
WINCHELL	I understand, Sir. It’d be the same if it was my birthday — I beg pardon, I’m forgetting. If it was my mother’s. God rest her soul, She’s been dead these ten years. How is her Ladyship, If I may ask, my Lord?
HARRY	Why do you keep asking About her Ladyship? Do you know or don’t you? I’m not afraid of you.
WINCHELL	I should hope not, my Lord. I didn’t mean to put myself forward. But you see, my Lord, I had good reason for asking …
HARRY	Well, do you want me to produce her for you?
WINCHELL	Oh no indeed, my Lord, I’d much rather not …
HARRY	You mean you think I can’t. But I might surprise you; I think I might be able to give you a shock.
WINCHELL	There’s been shock enough for one evening, my Lord: That’s what I’ve come about.
WARBURTON	For Heaven’s sake, Winchell, Tell us your business.
WINCHELL	It’s about Mr. John.
HARRY	John!
WINCHELL	Yes, my Lord, I’m sorry. I thought I’d better have a word with you quiet, Rather than phone and perhaps disturb her Ladyship. So I slipped along on my bike. Mostly walking, What with the fog so thick, or I’d have been here sooner. I’d telephoned to Dr. Warburton’s, And they told me he was here, and that you’d arrived. Mr. John’s had a bit of an accident On the West Road, in the fog, coming along At a pretty smart pace, I fancy, ran into a lorry Drawn up round the bend. We’ll have the driver up for this: Says he doesn’t know this part of the country And stopped to take his bearings. We’ve got him at the Arms — Mr. John, I mean. By a bit of luck Dr. Owen was there, and looked him over; Says there’s nothing wrong but some nasty cuts And a bad concussion; says he’ll come round In the morning, most likely, but he mustn’t be moved. But Dr. Owen was anxious that you should have a look at him.
WARBURTON	Quite right, quite right. I’ll go and have a look at him. We must explain to your mother … AMY’S VOICE.                                        Harry! Harry! Who’s there with you? Is it Arthur or John?
(didascalia)	[Enter AMY, followed severally by VIOLET, IVY, AGATHA, GERALD and CHARLES.]
WARBURTON	Winchell! what are you here for?
WINCHELL	I’m sorry, my Lady, but I’ve just told the doctor, It’s really nothing but a minor accident.
WARBURTON	It’s John has had the accident, Lady Monchensey; And Winchell tells me Dr. Owen has seen him And says it’s nothing but a slight concussion, But he mustn’t be moved tonight. I’d trust Owen On a matter like this. You can trust Owen. We’ll bring him up tomorrow; and a few days’ rest, I’ve no doubt, will be all that he needs.
AMY	Accident? What sort of an accident?
WINCHELL	Coming along in the fog, my Lady, And he must have been in rather a hurry. There was a lorry drawn up where it shouldn’t be, Outside of the village, on the West Road.
AMY	Where is he?
WINCHELL	At the Arms, my Lady; Of course, he hasn’t come round yet. Dr. Owen was there, by a bit of luck.
GERALD	I’ll go down and see him, Amy, and come back and report to you.
AMY	I must see for myself. Order the car at once.
WARBURTON	I forbid it, Lady Monchensey. As your doctor, I forbid you to leave the house tonight. There is nothing you could do, and out in this weather At this time of night, I would not answer for the consequences I am going myself. I will come back and report to you.
AMY	I must see for myself. I do not believe you.
CHARLES	Much better leave it to Warburton, Amy. Extremely fortunate for us that he’s here. We must put ourselves under Warburton’s orders.
WARBURTON	I repeat, Lady Monchensey, that you must not go out. If you do, I must decline to continue to treat you. You are only delaying me. I shall return at once.
AMY	Well, I suppose you are right. But can I trust you?
WARBURTON	You have trusted me a good many years, Lady Monchensey; This is not the time to begin to doubt me. Come, Winchell. We can put your bicycle On the back of my car.
(didascalia)	[Exeunt WARBURTON and WINCHELL]
VIOLET	Well, Harry, I think that you might have had something to say. Aren’t you sorry for your brother? Aren’t you aware Of what is going on? and what it means to your mother?
HARRY	Oh, of course I’m sorry. But from what Winchell says I don’t think the matter can be very serious. A minor trouble like a concussion Cannot make very much difference to John. A brief vacation from the kind of consciousness That John enjoys, can’t make very much difference To him or to anyone else. If he was ever really conscious, I should be glad for him to have a breathing spell: But John’s ordinary day isn’t much more than breathing.
IVY	Really, Harry! how can you be so callous? I always thought you were so fond of John.
VIOLET	And if you don’t care what happens to John, You might show some consideration to your mother.
AMY	I do not know very much: And as I get older, I am coming to think How little I have ever known. But I think your remarks are much more inappropriate Than Harry’s.
HARRY	It’s only when they see nothing That people can always show the suitable emotions — And so far as they feel at all, their emotions are suitable. They don’t understand what it is to be awake, To be living on several planes at once Though one cannot speak with several voices at once. I have all of the rightminded feeling about John That you consider appropriate. Only, that’s not the language That I choose to be talking. I will not talk yours.
AMY	You looked like your father When you said that.
HARRY	I think, mother, I shall make you lie down. You must be very tired.
(didascalia)	[Exeunt HARRY and AMY]
VIOLET	I really do not understand Harry’s behaviour.
AGATHA	I think it is as well to leave Harry to establish If he can, some communication with his mother.
VIOLET	I do not seem to be very popular tonight.
CHARLES	Well, there’s no sort of use in any of us going — On a night like this — it’s a good three miles; There’s nothing we could do that Warburton can’t. If he’s worse than Winchell said, then he’ll let us know at once.
GERALD	I am really more afraid of the shock for Amy; But I think that Warburton understands that.
IVY	You are quite right, Gerald, the one thing that matters Is not to let her see that anyone is worried. We must carry on as if nothing had happened, And have the cake and presents.
GERALD	But I’m worried about Arthur: He’s much more apt than John to get into trouble.
CHARLES	Oh, but Arthur’s a brilliant driver. After all the experience he’s had at Brooklands, He’s not likely to get into trouble.
GERALD	A brilliant driver, but more reckless.
IVY	Yet I remember, when they were boys, Arthur was always the more adventurous But John was the one that had the accidents, Somehow, just because he was the slow one. He was always the one to fall off the pony, Or out of a tree — and always on his head.
VIOLET	But a year ago, Arthur took me out in his car, And I told him I would never go out with him again. Not that I wanted to go with him at all — Though of course he meant well — but I think an open car Is so undignified: you’re blown about so, And you feel so conspicuous, lolling back And so near the street, and everyone staring; And the pace he went at was simply terrifying. I said I would rather walk: and I did.
GERALD	Walk? where to?
VIOLET	He started out to take me to Cheltenham; But I stopped him somewhere in Chiswick, I think. Anyway, the district was unfamiliar And I had the greatest trouble in getting home. I am sure he meant well. But I do think he is reckless.
GERALD	I wonder how much Amy knows about Arthur?
CHARLES	More than she cares to mention, I imagine.
(didascalia)	[Enter HARRY]
HARRY	Mother is asleep, I think: it’s strange how the old Can drop off to sleep in the middle of calamity Like children, or like hardened campaigners. She looked Very much as she must have looked when she was a child. You’ve been holding a meeting — the usual family inquest On the characters of all the junior members? Or engaged in predicting the minor event, Engaged in foreseeing the minor disaster? You go on trying to think of each thing separately, Making small things important, so that everything May be unimportant, a slight deviation From some imaginary course that life ought to take, That you call normal. What you call the normal Is merely the unreal and the unimportant. I was like that in a way, so long as I could think Even of my own life as an isolated ruin, A casual bit of waste in an orderly universe. But it begins to seem just part of some huge disaster, Some monstrous mistake and aberration Of all men, of the world, which I cannot put in order. If you only knew the years that I have had to live Since I came home, a few hours ago, to Wishwood.
VIOLET	I will make no observations on what you say, Harry; My comments are not always welcome in this family.
(didascalia)	[Enter DENMAN]
DENMAN	Excuse me, Miss Ivy. There’s a trunk call for you.
IVY	A trunk call? for me? why, who can want me?
DENMAN	He wouldn’t give his name, Miss; but it’s Mr. Arthur.
IVY	Arthur! Oh dear, I’m afraid he’s had an accident.
(didascalia)	[Exeunt IVY and DENMAN]
VIOLET	When it’s Ivy that he’s asking for, I expect the worst.
AGATHA	Whatever you have learned, Harry, you must remember That there is always more: we cannot rest in being The impatient spectators of malice or stupidity. We must try to penetrate the other private worlds Of make-believe and fear. To rest in our own suffering Is evasion of suffering. We must learn to suffer more.
VIOLET	Agatha’s remarks are invariably pointed.
HARRY	Do you think that I believe what I said just now? That was only what I should like to believe. I was talking in abstractions: and you answered in abstractions. I have a private puzzle. Were they simply outside, I might escape somewhere, perhaps. Were they simply inside I could cheat them perhaps with the aid of Dr. Warburton — Or any other doctor, who would be another Warburton, If you decided to set another doctor on me. But this is too real for your words to alter. Oh, there must be another way of talking That would get us somewhere. You don’t understand me. You can’t understand me. It’s not being alone That is the horror — to be alone with the horror. What matters is the filthiness. I can clean my skin, Purify my life, void my mind, But always the filthiness, that lies a little deeper …
(didascalia)	[Enter IVY]
IVY	Where is there an evening paper?
GERALD	Why, what’s the matter.
IVY	Somebody, look for Arthur in the evening paper. That was Arthur, ringing up from London: The connection was so bad, I could hardly hear him, And his voice was very queer. It seems that Arthur too Has had an accident. I don’t think he’s hurt, But he says that he hasn’t got the use of his car, And he missed the last train, so he’s coming up tomorrow; And he said there was something about it in the paper, But it’s all a mistake. And not to tell his mother.
VIOLET	What’s the use of asking for an evening paper? You know as well as I do, at this distance from London Nobody’s likely to have this evening’s paper.
CHARLES	Stop, I think I bought a lunch edition Before I left St. Pancras. If I did, it’s in my overcoat. I’ll see if it’s there. There might be something in that.
(didascalia)	[Exit]
GERALD	Well, I said that Arthur was every bit as likely To have an accident as John. And it wasn’t John’s fault, I don’t believe. John is unlucky, But Arthur is definitely reckless.
VIOLET	I think these racing cars ought to be prohibited.
(didascalia)	[Re-enter CHARLES, with a newspaper]
CHARLES	Yes, there is a paragraph … I’m glad to say It’s not very conspicuous …
GERALD	There’ll have been more in the later editions. You’d better read it to us. CHARLES [reads]. ‘Peer’s Brother in Motor Smash The Hon. Arthur Gerald Charles Piper, younger brother of Lord Monchensey, who ran into and demolished a roundsman’s cart in Ebury Street early on the morning of January 1st, was fined £50 and costs to-day, and forbidden to drive a car for the next twelve months. While trying to extricate his car from the collision, Mr. Piper reversed into a shop-window. When challenged, Mr. Piper said: “I thought it was all open country about here” —’
GERALD	Where?
CHARLES	In Ebury Street. ‘The police stated that at the time of the accident Mr. Piper was being pursued by a patrol, and was travelling at the rate of 66 miles an hour. When asked why he did not stop when signalled by the police car, he said: “I thought you were having a game with me.”’
GERALD	This is what the Communists make capital out of.
CHARLES	There’s a little more. ‘The Piper family …’ no, we needn’t read that.
VIOLET	This is just what I expected. But if Agatha Is going to moralise about it, I shall scream.
GERALD	It’s going to be awkward, explaining this to Amy.
IVY	Poor Arthur! I’m sure that you’re being much too hard on him.
CHARLES	In my time, these affairs were kept out of the papers; But nowadays, there’s no such thing as privacy.
CHORUS	In an old house there is always listening, and more is heard than is spoken. And what is spoken remains in the room, waiting for the future to hear it. And whatever happens began in the past, and presses hard on the future. The agony in the curtained bedroom, whether of birth or of dying, Gathers in to itself all the voices of the past, and projects them into the future. The treble voices on the lawn The mowing of hay in summer The dogs and the old pony The stumble and the wail of little pain The chopping of wood in autumn And the singing in the kitchen And the steps at night in the corridor The moment of sudden loathing And the season of stifled sorrow The whisper, the transparent deception The keeping up of appearances The making the best of a bad job All twined and tangled together, all are recorded. There is no avoiding these things And we know nothing of exorcism And whether in Argos or England There are certain inflexible laws Unalterable, in the nature of music. There is nothing at all to be done about it, There is nothing to do about anything, And now it is nearly time for the news We must listen to the weather report And the international catastrophes.
(didascalia)	[Exeunt CHORUS]

Scene II

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	HARRY, AGATHA
HARRY	John will recover, be what he always was; Arthur again be sober, though not for very long; And everything will go on as before. These mild surprises Should be in the routine of normal life at Wishwood. John is the only one of us I can conceive As settling down to make himself at home at Wishwood, Make a dull marriage, marry some woman stupider — Stupider than himself. He can resist the influence Of Wishwood, being unconscious, living in gentle motion Of horses, and right visits to the right neighbours At the right times; and be an excellent landlord.
AGATHA	What is in your mind, Harry? I can guess about the past and what you mean about the future; But a present is missing, needed to connect them. You may be afraid that I would not understand you, You may also be afraid of being understood, Try not to regard it as an explanation.
HARRY	I still have to learn exactly what their meaning is. At the beginning, eight years ago, I felt, at first, that sense of separation, Of isolation unredeemable, irrevocable — It’s eternal, or gives a knowledge of eternity, Because it feels eternal while it lasts. That is one hell. Then the numbness came to cover it — that is another — That was the second hell of not being there, The degradation of being parted from my self, From the self which persisted only as an eye, seeing. All this last year, I could not fit myself together: When I was inside the old dream, I felt all the same emotion Or lack of emotion, as before: the same loathing Diffused, I not a person, in a world not of persons But only of contaminating presences. And then I had no horror of my action, I only felt the repetition of it Over and over. When I was outside, I could associate nothing of it with myself, Though nothing else was real. I thought foolishly That when I got back to Wishwood, as I had left it, Everything would fall into place. But they prevent it. I still have to find out what their meaning is. Here I have been finding A misery long forgotten, and a new torture, The shadow of something behind our meagre childhood, Some origin of wretchedness. Is that what they would show me? And now I want you to tell me about my father.
AGATHA	What do you want to know about your father?
HARRY	If I knew, then I should not have to ask. You know what I want to know, and that is enough: Warburton told me that, though he did not mean to. What I want to know is something I need to know, And only you can tell me. I know that much.
AGATHA	I had to fight for many years to win my dispossession, And many years to keep it. What people know me as, The efficient principal of a women’s college — That is the surface. There is a deeper Organisation, which your question disturbs.
HARRY	When I know, I know that in some way I shall find That I have always known it. And that will be better.
AGATHA	I will try to tell you. I hope I have the strength.
HARRY	I have thought of you as the completely strong, The liberated from the human wheel. So I looked to you for strength. Now I think it is A common pursuit of liberation.
AGATHA	Your father might have lived — or so I see him — An exceptionally cultivated country squire, Reading, sketching, playing on the flute, Something of an oddity to his county neighbours, But not neglecting public duties. He hid his strength beneath unusual weakness, The diffidence of a solitary man: Where he was weak he recognised your mother’s power, And yielded to it.
HARRY	There was no ecstasy. Tell me now, who were my parents?
AGATHA	Your father and your mother.
HARRY	You tell me nothing.
AGATHA	The dead man whom you have assumed to be your father, And my sister whom you acknowledge as your mother: There is no mystery here.
HARRY	What then?
AGATHA	You see your mother as identified with this house — It was not always so. There were many years Before she succeeded in making terms with Wishwood, Until she took your father’s place, and reached the point where Wishwood supported her, and she supported Wishwood. At first it was a vacancy. A man and a woman Married, alone in a lonely country house together, For three years childless, learning the meaning Of loneliness. Your mother wanted a sister here Always. I was the youngest: I was then An undergraduate at Oxford. I came Once for a long vacation. I remember A summer day of unusual heat For this cold country.
HARRY	And then?
AGATHA	There are hours when there seems to be no past or future, Only a present moment of pointed light When you want to burn. When you stretch out your hand To the flames. They only come once, Thank God, that kind. Perhaps there is another kind, I believe, across a whole Thibet of broken stones That lie, fang up, a lifetime’s march. I have believed this.
HARRY	I have known neither.
AGATHA	The autumn came too soon, not soon enough. The rain and wind had not shaken your father Awake yet. I found him thinking How to get rid of your mother. What simple plots! He was not suited to the role of murderer.
HARRY	In what way did he wish to murder her?
AGATHA	Oh, a dozen foolish ways, each one abandoned For something more ingenious. You were due in three months’ time; You would not have been born in that event: I stopped him. I can take no credit for a little common sense, He would have bungled it.                                              I did not want to kill you! You to be killed! What were you then? only a thing called ‘life’ — Something that should have been mine, as I felt then. Most people would not have felt that compunction If they felt no other. But I wanted you! If that had happened, I knew I should have carried Death in life, death through lifetime, death in my womb. I felt that you were in some way mine! And that in any case I should have no other child.
HARRY	And have me. That is the way things happen. Everything is true in a different sense, A sense that would have seemed meaningless before. Everything tends towards reconciliation As the stone falls, as the tree falls. And in the end That is the completion which at the beginning Would have seemed the ruin. Perhaps my life has only been a dream Dreamt through me by the minds of others. Perhaps I only dreamt I pushed her.
AGATHA	So I had supposed. What of it? What we have written is not a story of detection, Of crime and punishment, but of sin and expiation. It is possible that you have not known what sin You shall expiate, or whose, or why. It is certain That the knowledge of it must precede the expiation. It is possible that sin may strain and struggle In its dark instinctive birth, to come to consciousness And so find expurgation. It is possible You are the consciousness of your unhappy family, Its bird sent flying through the purgatorial flame. Indeed it is possible. You may learn hereafter, Moving alone through flames of ice, chosen To resolve the enchantment under which we suffer.
HARRY	Look, I do not know why, I feel happy for a moment, as if I had come home. It is quite irrational, but now I feel quite happy, as if happiness Did not consist in getting what one wanted Or in getting rid of what can’t be got rid of But in a different vision. This is like an end.
AGATHA	And a beginning. Harry, my dear, I feel very tired, as only the old feel. The young feel tired at the end of an action — The old, at the beginning. It is as if I had been living all these years upon my capital, Instead of earning my spiritual income daily: And I am old, to start again to make my living.
HARRY	But you are not unhappy, just now?
AGATHA	What does the word mean? There’s relief from a burden that I carried, And exhaustion at the moment of relief. The burden’s yours now, yours The burden of all the family. And I am a little frightened.
HARRY	You, frightened! I can hardly imagine it. I wish I had known — but that was impossible. I only now begin to have some understanding Of you, and of all of us. Family affection Was a kind of formal obligation, a duty Only noticed by its neglect. One had that part to play. After such training, I could endure, these ten years, Playing a part that had been imposed upon me; And I returned to find another one made ready — The book laid out, lines underscored, and the costume Ready to be put on. But it is very odd: When other people seemed so strong, their apparent strength Stifled my decision. Now I see I might even become fonder of my mother — More compassionate at least — by understanding. But she would not like that. Now I see I have been wounded in a war of phantoms, Not by human beings — they have no more power than I. The things I thought were real are shadows, and the real Are what I thought were private shadows. O that awful privacy Of the insane mind! Now I can live in public. Liberty is a different kind of pain from prison.
AGATHA	I only looked through the little door When the sun was shining on the rose-garden: And heard in the distance tiny voices And then a black raven flew over. And then I was only my own feet walking Away, down a concrete corridor In a dead air. Only feet walking And sharp heels scraping. Over and under Echo and noise of feet. I was only the feet, and the eye Seeing the feet: the unwinking eye Fixing the movement. Over and under.
HARRY	In and out, in an endless drift Of shrieking forms in a circular desert Weaving with contagion of putrescent embraces On dissolving bone. In and out, the movement Until the chain broke, and I was left Under the single eye above the desert.
AGATHA	Up and down, through the stone passages Of an immense and empty hospital Pervaded by a smell of disinfectant, Looking straight ahead, passing barred windows. Up and down. Until the chain breaks.
HARRY	To and fro, dragging my feet Among inner shadows in the smoky wilderness, Trying to avoid the clasping branches And the giant lizard. To and fro. Until the chain breaks.                                        The chain breaks, The wheel stops, and the noise of machinery, And the desert is cleared, under the judicial sun Of the final eye, and the awful evacuation Cleanses.                  I was not there, you were not there, only our phantasms And what did not happen is as true as what did happen O my dear, and you walked through the little door And I ran to meet you in the rose-garden.
AGATHA	This is the next moment. This is the beginning. We do not pass twice through the same door Or return to the door through which we did not pass. I have seen the first stage: relief from what happened Is also relief from that unfulfilled craving Flattered in sleep, and deceived in waking.                                                                       You have a long journey.
HARRY	Not yet! not yet! this is the first time that I have been free From the ring of ghosts with joined hands, from the pursuers, And come into a quiet place.                                                 Why is it so quiet? Do you feel a kind of stirring underneath the air? Do you? don’t you? a communication, a scent Direct to the brain … but not just as before, Not quite like, not the same …
(didascalia)	[The EUMENIDES appear]
HARRY	and this time You cannot think that I am surprised to see you. And you shall not think that I am afraid to see you. This time, you are real, this time, you are outside me, And just endurable. I know that you are ready, Ready to leave Wishwood, and I am going with you. You followed me here, where I thought I should escape you — No! you were already here before I arrived. Now I see at last that I am following you, And I know that there can be only one itinerary And one destination. Let us lose no time. I will follow.
(didascalia)	[The curtains close. AGATHA goes to the window, in a somnambular fashion, and opens the curtains, disclosing the empty embrasure. She steps into the place which the EUMENIDES had occupied.]
AGATHA	A curse comes to being As a child is formed. In both, the incredible Becomes the actual Without our intention Knowing what is intended. A curse is like a child, formed In a moment of unconsciousness In an accidental bed Or under an elder tree According to the phase Of the determined moon. A curse is like a child, formed To grow to maturity: Accident is design And design is accident In a cloud of unknowing. O my child, my curse, You shall be fulfilled: The knot shall be unknotted And the crooked made straight.
(didascalia)	[She moves back into the room]
AGATHA	What have I been saying? I think I was saying That you have a long journey. You have nothing to stay for. Think of it as like a children’s treasure hunt: Here you have found a clue, hidden in the obvious place. Delay, and it is lost. Love compels cruelty To those who do not understand love. What you have wished to know, what you have learned Mean the end of a relation, make it impossible. You did not intend this, I did not intend it, No one intended, but … You must go.
HARRY	Shall we ever meet again?
AGATHA	Shall we ever meet again? And who will meet again? Meeting is for strangers. Meeting is for those who do not know each other.
HARRY	I know that I have made a decision In a moment of clarity, and now I feel dull again. I only know that I made a decision Which your words echo. I am still befouled, But I know there is only one way out of defilement — Which leads in the end to reconciliation. And I know that I must go.
AGATHA	You must go.
(didascalia)	[Enter AMY]
AMY	What are you saying to Harry? He has only arrived, And you tell him to go?
AGATHA	He shall go.
AMY	He shall go? and who are you to say he shall go? I think I know well enough why you wish him to go.
AGATHA	I wish nothing. I only say what I know must happen.
AMY	You only say what you intended to happen.
HARRY	Oh, mother, This is not to do with Agatha, any more than with the rest of you. My advice has come from quite a different quarter, But I cannot explain that to you now. Only be sure That I know what I am doing, and what I must do, And that it is the best thing for everybody. But at present, I cannot explain it to anyone: I do not know the words in which to explain it — That is what makes it harder. You must just believe me, Until I come again.
AMY	But why are you going?
HARRY	I can only speak And you cannot hear me. I can only speak So you may not think I conceal an explanation, And to tell you that I would have liked to explain.
AMY	Why should Agatha know, and I not be allowed to?
HARRY	I do not know whether Agatha knows Or how much she knows. Any knowledge she may have — It was not I who told her … All this year, This last year, I have been in flight But always in ignorance of invisible pursuers. Now I know that all my life has been a flight And phantoms fed upon me while I fled. Now I know That the last apparent refuge, the safe shelter, That is where one meets them. That is the way of spectres …
AMY	There is no one here! No one, but your family!
HARRY	And now I know That my business is not to run away, but to pursue, Not to avoid being found, but to seek. I would not have chosen this way, had there been any other! It is at once the hardest thing, and the only thing possible. Now they will lead me. I shall be safe with them; I am not safe here.
AMY	So you will run away.
AGATHA	In a world of fugitives The person taking the opposite direction Will appear to run away.
AMY	I was speaking to Harry.
HARRY	It is very hard, when one has just recovered sanity, And not yet assured in possession, that is when One begins to seem the maddest to other people. It is hard for you too, mother, it is indeed harder, Not to understand.
AMY	Where are you going?
HARRY	I shall have to learn. That is still unsettled. I have not yet had the precise directions. Where does one go from a world of insanity? Somewhere on the other side of despair. To the worship in the desert, the thirst and deprivation, A stony sanctuary and a primitive altar, The heat of the sun and the icy vigil, A care over lives of humble people, The lesson of ignorance, of incurable diseases. Such things are possible. It is love and terror Of what waits and wants me, and will not let me fall. Let the cricket chirp. John shall be the master. All I have is his. No harm can come to him. What would destroy me will be life for John, I am responsible for him. Why I have this election I do not understand. It must have been preparing always, And I see it was what I always wanted. Strength demanded That seems too much, is just strength enough given. I must follow the bright angels.
(didascalia)	[Exit]

Scene III

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	AMY, AGATHA
AMY	I was a fool, to ask you again to Wishwood; But I thought, thirty-five years is long, and death is an end, And I thought that time might have made a change in Agatha — It has made enough in me. Thirty-five years ago You took my husband from me. Now you take my son.
AGATHA	What did I take? nothing that you ever had. What did I get? thirty years of solitude, Alone, among women, in a women’s college, Trying not to dislike women. Thirty years in which to think. Do you suppose that I wanted to return to Wishwood?
AMY	The more rapacious, to take what I never had; The more unpardonable, to taunt me with not having it. Had you taken what I had, you would have left me at least a memory Of something to live upon. You knew that you took everything Except the walls, the furniture, the acres; Leaving nothing — but what I could breed for myself, What I could plant here. Seven years I kept him, For the sake of the future, a discontented ghost, In his own house. What of the humiliation, Of the chilly pretences in the silent bedroom, Forcing sons upon an unwilling father? Dare you think what that does to one? Try to think of it. I would have sons, if I could not have a husband: Then I let him go. I abased myself. Did I show any weakness, any self-pity? I forced myself to the purposes of Wishwood; I even asked you back, for visits, after he was gone, So that there might be no ugly rumours. You thought I did not know! You may be close, but I always saw through him. And now it is my son.
AGATHA	I know one thing, Amy: That you have never changed. And perhaps I have not. I thought that I had, until this evening. But at least I wanted to. Now I must begin. There is nothing more difficult. But you are just the same: Just as voracious for what you cannot have Because you repel it.
AMY	I prepared the situation For us to be reconciled, because of Harry, Because of his mistakes, because of his unhappiness, Because of the misery that he has left behind him, Because of the waste. I wanted to obliterate His past life, and have nothing except to remind him Of the years when he had been a happy boy at Wishwood; For his future success.
AGATHA	Success is relative: It is what we can make of the mess we have made of things, It is what he can make, not what you would make for him.
AMY	Success is one thing, what you would make for him Is another. I call it failure. Your fury for possession Is only the stronger for all these years of abstinence. Thirty-five years ago you took my husband from me And now you take my son.
AGATHA	Why should we quarrel for what neither can have? If neither has ever had a husband or a son We have no ground for argument.
AMY	Who set you up to judge? what, if you please, Gives you the power to know what is best for Harry? What gave you this influence to persuade him To abandon his duty, his family and his happiness? Who has planned his good? is it you or I? Thirty-five years designing his life, Eight years watching, without him, at Wishwood, Years of bitterness and disappointment. What share had you in this? what have you given? And now at the moment of success against failure, When I felt assured of his settlement and happiness, You who took my husband, now you take my son. You take him from Wishwood, you take him from me, You take him …
(didascalia)	[Enter MARY]
MARY	Excuse me, Cousin Amy. I have just seen Denman. She came to tell me that Harry is leaving: Downing told her. He has got the car out. What is the matter?
AMY	That woman there, She has persuaded him: I do not know how. I have been always trying to make myself believe That he was not such a weakling as his father In the hands of any unscrupulous woman. I have no influence over him; you can try, But you will not succeed: she has some spell That works from generation to generation.
MARY	Is Harry really going?
AGATHA	He is going. But that is not my spell, it is none of my doing: I have only watched and waited. In this world It is inexplicable, the resolution is in another.
MARY	Oh, but it is the danger comes from another! Can you not stop him? Cousin Agatha, stop him! You do not know what I have seen and what I know! He is in great danger, I know that, don’t ask me, You would not believe me, but I tell you I know. You must keep him here, you must not let him leave. I do not know what must be done, what can be done, Even here, but elsewhere, everywhere, he is in danger. I will stay or I will go, whichever is better; I do not care what happens to me, But Harry must not go. Cousin Agatha!
AGATHA	Here the danger, here the death, here, not elsewhere; Elsewhere no doubt is agony, renunciation, But birth and life. Harry has crossed the frontier Beyond which safety and danger have a different meaning. And he cannot return. That is his privilege. For those who live in this world, this world only, Do you think that I would take the responsibility Of tempting them over the border? No one could, no one who knows. No one who has the least suspicion of what is to be found there. But Harry has been led across the frontier: he must follow; For him the death is now only on this side, For him, danger and safety have another meaning. They have made this clear. And I who have seen them must believe them.
MARY	Oh! … so … you have seen them too!
AGATHA	We must all go, each in his own direction, You, and I, and Harry. You and I, My dear, may very likely meet again In our wanderings in the neutral territory Between two worlds.
MARY	Then you will help me! You remember what I said to you this evening? I knew that I was right: you made me wait for this — Only for this. I suppose I did not really mean it Then, but I mean it now. Of course it was much too late Then, for anything to come for me: I should have known it; It was all over, I believe, before it began; But I deceived myself. It takes so many years To learn that one is dead! So you must help me. I will go. But I suppose it is much too late Now, to try to get a fellowship?
AMY	So you will all leave me! An old woman alone in a damned house. I will let the walls crumble. Why should I worry To keep the tiles on the roof, combat the endless weather, Resist the wind? fight with increasing taxes And unpaid rents and tithes? nourish investments With wakeful nights and patient calculations With the solicitor, the broker, agent? Why should I? It is no concern of the body in the tomb To bother about the upkeep. Let the wind and rain do that.
(didascalia)	[While AMY has been speaking,HARRY has entered, dressed for departure.]
HARRY	But, mother, you will always have Arthur and John To worry about: not that John is any worry — The destined and the perfect master of Wishwood, The satisfactory son. And as for me, I am the last you need to worry about; I have my course to pursue, and I am safe from normal dangers If I pursue it. I cannot account for this But it is so, mother. Until I come again.
AMY	If you go now, I shall never see you again.
(didascalia)	[Meanwhile VIOLET, GERALD and CHARLES have entered]
CHARLES	Where is Harry going? What is the matter?
AMY	Ask Agatha.
GERALD	Why, what’s the matter? Where is he going?
AMY	Ask Agatha.
VIOLET	I cannot understand at all. Why is he leaving?
AMY	Ask Agatha.
VIOLET	Really, it sometimes seems to me That I am the only sane person in this house. Your behaviour all seems to me quite unaccountable. What has happened, Amy?
AMY	Harry is going away — to become a missionary.
HARRY	But …!
CHARLES	A missionary! that’s never happened in our family! And why in such a hurry? Before you make up your mind …
VIOLET	You can’t really think of living in a tropical climate!
GERALD	There’s nothing wrong with a tropical climate — But you have to go in for some sort of training; The medical knowledge is the first thing. I’ve met with missionaries, often enough — Some of them very decent fellows. A maligned profession. They’re sometimes very useful, knowing the natives, Though occasionally troublesome. But you’ll have to learn the language And several dialects. It means a lot of preparation.
VIOLET	And you need some religious qualification! I think you should consult the vicar …
GERALD	And don’t forget That you’ll need various inoculations — That depends on where you’re going.
CHARLES	Such a thing Has never happened in our family.
VIOLET	I cannot understand it.
HARRY	I never said that I was going to be a missionary. I would explain, but you would none of you believe it; If you believed it, still you would not understand. You can’t know why I am going. You have not seen What I have seen. Oh why should you make it so ridiculous Just now? I only want, please, As little fuss as possible. You must get used to it; Meanwhile, I apologise for my bad manners. But if you could understand you would be quite happy about it, So I shall say good-bye, until we meet again.
GERALD	Well, if you are determined, Harry, we must accept it; But it’s a bad night, and you will have to be careful. You’re taking Downing with you?
HARRY	Oh, yes, I’m taking Downing. You need not fear that I am in any danger Of such accidents as happen to Arthur and John: Take care of them. My address, mother, Will be care of the bank in London until you hear from me. Good-bye, mother.
AMY	Good-bye, Harry.
HARRY	Good-bye.
AGATHA	Good-bye.
HARRY	Good-bye, Mary.
MARY	Good-bye, Harry. Take care of yourself.
(didascalia)	[Exit HARRY]
AMY	At my age, I only just begin to apprehend the truth About things too late to mend: and that is to be old. Nevertheless, I am glad if I can come to know them. I always wanted too much for my children More than life can give. And now I am punished for it. Gerald! you are the stupidest person in this room, Violet, you are the most malicious in a harmless way; I prefer your company to that of any of the others Just to help me to the next room. Where I can lie down. Then you can leave me.
GERALD	Oh, certainly, Amy.
VIOLET	I do not understand A single thing that’s happened.
(didascalia)	[Exeunt AMY, VIOLET, GERALD]
CHARLES	It’s very odd, But I am beginning to feel, just beginning to feel That there is something I could understand, if I were told it. But I’m not sure that I want to know. I suppose I’m getting old: Old age came softly up to now. I felt safe enough; And now I don’t feel safe. As if the earth should open Right to the centre, as I was about to cross Pall Mall. I thought that life could bring no further surprises; But I remember now, that I am always surprised By the bull-dog in the Burlington Arcade. What if every moment were like that, if one were awake? You both seem to know more about this than I do.
(didascalia)	[Enter DOWNING, hurriedly, in chauffeur’s costume]
DOWNING	Oh, excuse me, Miss, excuse me, Mr. Charles: His Lordship sent me back because he remembered He thinks he left his cigarette-case on the table. Oh, there it is. Thank you. Good night, Miss; good night, Miss Mary; good night, Sir.
MARY	Downing, will you promise never to leave his Lordship While you are away?
DOWNING	Oh, certainly, Miss; I’ll never leave him so long as he requires me.
MARY	But he will need you. You must never leave him.
DOWNING	You may think it laughable, what I’m going to say — But it’s not really strange, Miss, when you come to look at it: After all these years that I’ve been with him I think I understand his Lordship better than anybody; And I have a kind of feeling that his Lordship won’t need me Very long now. I can’t give you any reasons. But to show you what I mean, though you’d hardly credit it, I’ve always said, whatever happened to his Lordship Was just a kind of preparation for something else. I’ve no gift of language, but I’m sure of what I mean: We most of us seem to live according to circumstance, But with people like him, there’s something inside them That accounts for what happens to them. You get a feeling of it. So I seem to know beforehand, when something’s going to happen, And it seems quite natural, being his Lordship. And that’s why I say now, I have a feeling That he won’t want me long, and he won’t want anybody.
AGATHA	And, Downing, if his behaviour seems unaccountable At times, you mustn’t worry about that. He is every bit as sane as you or I, He sees the world as clearly as you or I see it, It is only that he has seen a great deal more than that, And we have seen them too — Miss Mary and I.
DOWNING	I understand you, Miss. And if I may say so, Now that you’ve raised the subject, I’m most relieved — If you understand my meaning. I thought that was the reason We was off tonight. In fact, I half expected it, So I had the car all ready. You mean them ghosts, Miss! I wondered when his Lordship would get round to seeing them — And so you’ve seen them too! They must have given you a turn! They did me, at first. You soon get used to them. Of course, I knew they was to do with his Lordship, And not with me, so I could see them cheerful-like, In a manner of speaking. There’s no harm in them, I’ll take my oath. Will that be all, Miss?
AGATHA	That will be all, thank you, Downing. We mustn’t keep you; His Lordship will be wondering why you’ve been so long.
(didascalia)	[Exit DOWNING. Enter IVY]
IVY	Where is Downing going? where is Harry? Look. Here’s a telegram come from Arthur;
(didascalia)	[Enter GERALD and VIOLET]
IVY	I wonder why he sent it, after telephoning. Shall I read it to you? I was wondering Whether to show it to Amy or not.
(didascalia)	[Reads]
IVY	‘Regret delayed business in town many happy returns see you tomorrow many happy returns hurrah love Arthur.’ I mean, after what we know of what did happen, Do you think Amy ought to see it?
VIOLET	No, certainly not. You do not know what has been going on, Ivy. And if you did, you would not understand it. I do not understand, so how could you? Amy is not well; And she is resting.
IVY	Oh, I’m sorry. But can’t you explain? Why do you all look so peculiar? I think I might be allowed To know what has happened. AMY’S VOICE.                             Agatha! Mary! come! The clock has stopped in the dark!
(didascalia)	[Exeunt AGATHA and MARY. Pause. Enter WARBURTON]
WARBURTON	Well! it’s a filthy night to be out in. That’s why I’ve been so long, going and coming. But I’m glad to say that John is getting on nicely; It wasn’t so serious as Winchell made out, And we’ll have him up here in the morning. I hope Lady Monchensey hasn’t been worrying? I’m anxious to relieve her mind. Why, what’s the trouble?
(didascalia)	[Enter MARY]
MARY	Dr. Warburton!
WARBURTON	Excuse me.
(didascalia)	[Exeunt MARY and WARBURTON]
CHORUS	We do not like to look out of the same window, and see quite a different landscape. We do not like to climb a stair, and find that it takes us down. We do not like to walk out of a door, and find ourselves back in the same room. We do not like the maze in the garden, because it too closely resembles the maze in the brain. We do not like what happens when we are awake, because it too closely resembles what happens when we are asleep. We understand the ordinary business of living, We know how to work the machine, We can usually avoid accidents, We are insured against fire, Against larceny and illness, Against defective plumbing, But not against the act of God. We know various spells and enchantments. And minor forms of sorcery, Divination and chiromancy, Specifics against insomnia, Lumbago, and the loss of money. But the circle of our understanding Is a very restricted area. Except for a limited number Of strictly practical purposes We do not know what we are doing; And even, when you think of it, We do not know much about thinking. What is happening outside of the circle? And what is the meaning of happening? What ambush lies beyond the heather And behind the Standing Stones? Beyond the Heaviside Layer And behind the smiling moon? And what is being done to us? And what are we, and what are we doing? To each and all of these questions There is no conceivable answer. We have suffered far more than a personal loss — We have lost our way in the dark.
IVY	I shall have to stay till after the funeral: will my ticket to London still be valid?
GERALD	I do not look forward with pleasure to dealing with Arthur and John in the morning.
VIOLET	We must wait for the will to be read. I shall send a wire in the morning.
CHARLES	I fear that my mind is not what it was — or was it? — and yet I think that I might understand.
ALL	But we must adjust ourselves to the moment: we must do the right thing.
(didascalia)	[Exeunt]
(didascalia)	[Enter, from one door, AGATHA and MARY, and set a small portable table. From another door, enter DENMAN carrying a birthday cake with lighted candles, which she sets on the table. Exit DENMAN. AGATHA and MARY walk slowly in single file round and round the table, clock wise. At each revolution they blow out a few candles, so that their last words are spoken in the dark.]
AGATHA	A curse is slow in coming To complete fruition It cannot be hurried And it cannot be delayed
MARY	It cannot be diverted An attempt to divert it Only implicates others At the day of consummation
AGATHA	A curse is a power Not subject to reason Each curse has its course Its own way of expiation                     Follow follow
MARY	Not in the day time And in the hither world Where we know what we are doing There is not its operation                     Follow follow
AGATHA	But in the night time And in the nether world Where the meshes we have woven Bind us to each other                     Follow follow
MARY	A curse is written On the under side of things Behind the smiling mirror And behind the smiling moon                     Follow follow
AGATHA	This way the pilgrimage Of expiation Round and round the circle Completing the charm So the knot be unknotted The crossed be uncrossed The crooked be made straight And the curse be ended By intercession By pilgrimage By those who depart In several directions For their own redemption And that of the departed —                                                 May they rest in peace.