THE FAMILY REUNION

by Eliot · Cluster: Blood · Verse Drama · Revenge

Abstract

Eliot’s verse drama transposing the Oresteia onto an English country house: Harry, Lord Monchensey, haunted by the Eumenides and by guilt over his wife’s death, seeks expiation and spiritual deliverance while his family clings to surfaces.

Connections

Topoi: Katabasis Descent Archetypes: Avenger, Outsider, Ghost Motifs: Ghosts, Supernatural, Seasons Themes & Concepts: Guilt, Sin and the Fall, Grace and Redemption, Conscience, Alienation, Appearance vs Reality Forms & Genres: Verse Drama, Tragedy Historical References: Greek Tragedy, Greek Mythology Settings: Rural England Characters: Harry, Lord Monchensey, Amy, Lady Monchensey, Agatha

Testo integrale / Full text

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. THE COCKTAIL PARTY Persons EDWARD CHAMBERLAYNE JULIA (MRS. SHUTTLETHWAITE) CELIA COPLESTONE ALEXANDER MACCOLGIE GIBBS PETER QUILPE AN UNIDENTIFIED GUEST, later identified as SIR HENRY HARCOURT-REILLY LAVINIA CHAMBERLAYNE A NURSE-SECRETARY TWO CATERER’S MEN The scene is laid in London

Act One. Scene 1

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	The drawing-room of the Chamberlaynes’ London flat. Early evening. EDWARD CHAMBERLAYNE, JULIA SHUTTLETHWAITE, CELIA COPLESTONE, PETER QUILPE, ALEXANDER MACCOLGIE GIBBS, and an UNIDENTIFIED GUEST.
ALEX	You’ve missed the point completely, Julia: There were no tigers. That was the point.
JULIA	Then what were you doing, up in a tree: You and the Maharaja?
ALEX	My dear Julia! It’s perfectly hopeless. You haven’t been listening.
PETER	You’ll have to tell us all over again, Alex.
ALEX	I never tell the same story twice.
JULIA	But I’m still waiting to know what happened. I know it started as a story about tigers.
ALEX	I said there were no tigers.
CELIA	Oh do stop wrangling, Both of you. It’s your turn, Julia. Do tell us that story you told the other day, about Lady Klootz and the wedding cake.
PETER	And how the butler found her in the pantry, rinsing her mouth out with champagne. I like that story.
CELIA	I love that story.
ALEX	I’m never tired of hearing that story.
JULIA	Well, you all seem to know it.
CELIA	Do we all know it? But we’re never tired of hearing you tell it. I don’t believe everyone here knows it. [To the UNIDENTIFIED GUEST] You don’t know it, do you?
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	No, I’ve never heard it.
CELIA	Here’s one new listener for you, Julia; And I don’t believe that Edward knows it.
EDWARD	I may have heard it, but I don’t remember it.
CELIA	And Julia’s the only person to tell it. She’s such a good mimic.
JULIA	Am I a good mimic?
PETER	You are a good mimic. You never miss anything.
ALEX	She never misses anything unless she wants to.
CELIA	Especially the Lithuanian accent.
JULIA	Lithuanian? Lady Klootz?
PETER	I thought she was Belgian.
ALEX	Her father belonged to a Baltic family — One of the oldest Baltic families With a branch in Sweden and one in Denmark. There were several very lovely daughters: I wonder what’s become of them now.
JULIA	Lady Klootz was very lovely, once upon a time. What a life she led! I used to say to her: ‘Greta! You have too much vitality.’ But she enjoyed herself. [To the UNIDENTIFIED GUEST] Did you know Lady Klootz?
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	No, I never met her.
CELIA	Go on with the story about the wedding cake.
JULIA	Well, but it really isn’t my story. I heard it first from Delia Verinder Who was there when it happened. [To the UNIDENTIFIED GUEST] Do you know Delia Verinder?
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	No, I don’t know her.
JULIA	Well, one can’t be too careful Before one tells a story.
ALEX	Delia Verinder? Was she the one who had three brothers?
JULIA	How many brothers? Two, I think.
ALEX	No, there were three, but you wouldn’t know the third one: They kept him rather quiet.
JULIA	Oh, you mean that one.
ALEX	He was feeble-minded.
JULIA	Oh, not feeble-minded: He was only harmless.
ALEX	Well then, harmless.
JULIA	He was very clever at repairing clocks; And he had a remarkable sense of hearing — The only man I ever met who could hear the cry of bats.
PETER	Hear the cry of bats?
JULIA	He could hear the cry of bats.
CELIA	But how do you know he could hear the cry of bats?
JULIA	Because he said so. And I believed him.
CELIA	But if he was so … harmless, how could you believe him? He might have imagined it.
JULIA	My darling Celia, You needn’t be so sceptical. I stayed there once At their castle in the North. How he suffered! They had to find an island for him Where there were no bats.
ALEX	And is he still there? Julia is really a mine of information.
CELIA	There isn’t much that Julia doesn’t know.
PETER	Go on with the story about the wedding cake.
(didascalia)	[EDWARD leaves the room]
JULIA	No, we’ll wait until Edward comes back into the room. Now I want to relax, Are there any more cocktails?
PETER	But do go on. Edward wasn’t listening anyway.
JULIA	No, he wasn’t listening, but he’s such a strain — Edward without Lavinia! He’s quite impossible! Leaving it to me to keep things going. What a host! And nothing fit to eat! The only reason for a cocktail party For a gluttonous old woman like me Is a really nice tit-bit. I can drink at home.
(didascalia)	[EDWARD returns with a tray]
JULIA	Edward, give me another of those delicious olives. What’s that? Potato crisps? No, I can’t endure them. Well, I started to tell you about Lady Klootz. It was at the Vincewell wedding. Oh, so many years ago! [To the UNIDENTIFIED GUEST] Did you know the Vincewells?
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	No, I don’t know the Vincewells.
JULIA	Oh, they’re both dead now. But I wanted to know. If they’d been friends of yours, I couldn’t tell the story.
PETER	Were they the parents of Tony Vincewell?
JULIA	Yes. Tony was the product, but not the solution. He only made the situation more difficult. You know Tony Vincewell? You knew him at Oxford?
PETER	No, I never knew him at Oxford: I came across him last year in California.
JULIA	I’ve always wanted to go to California. Do tell us what you were doing in California.
CELIA	Making a film.
PETER	Trying to make a film.
JULIA	Oh, what film was it? I wonder if I’ve seen it.
PETER	No, you wouldn’t have seen it. As a matter of fact It was never produced. They did a film But they used a different scenario.
JULIA	Not the one you wrote?
PETER	Not the one I wrote: But I had a very enjoyable time.
CELIA	Go on with the story about the wedding cake.
JULIA	Edward, do sit down for a moment. I know you’re always the perfect host, But just try to pretend you’re another guest At Lavinia’s party. There are so many questions I want to ask you. It’s a golden opportunity Now Lavinia’s away. I’ve always said: ‘If I could only get Edward alone And have a really serious conversation!’ I said so to Lavinia. She agreed with me. She said: ‘I wish you’d try.’ And this is the first time I’ve ever seen you without Lavinia Except for the time she got locked in the lavatory And couldn’t get out. I know what you’re thinking! I know you think I’m a silly old woman But I’m really very serious. Lavinia takes me seriously. I believe that’s the reason why she went away — So that I could make you talk. Perhaps she’s in the pantry Listening to all we say!
EDWARD	No, she’s not in the pantry.
CELIA	Will she be away for some time, Edward?
EDWARD	I really don’t know until I hear from her. If her aunt is very ill, she may be gone some time.
CELIA	And how will you manage while she is away?
EDWARD	I really don’t know. I may go away myself.
CELIA	Go away yourself!
JULIA	Have you an aunt too?
EDWARD	No, I haven’t any aunt. But I might go away.
CELIA	But, Edward … what was I going to say? It’s dreadful for old ladies alone in the country, And almost impossible to get a nurse.
JULIA	Is that her Aunt Laura?
EDWARD	No; another aunt Whom you wouldn’t know. Her mother’s sister And rather a recluse.
JULIA	Her favourite aunt?
EDWARD	Her aunt’s favourite niece. And she’s rather difficult. When she’s ill, she insists on having Lavinia.
JULIA	I never heard of her being ill before.
EDWARD	No, she’s always very strong. That’s why when she’s ill She gets into a panic.
JULIA	And sends for Lavinia. I quite understand. Are there any prospects?
EDWARD	No, I think she put it all into an annuity.
JULIA	So it’s very unselfish of Lavinia Yet very like her. But really, Edward, Lavinia may be away for weeks, Or she may come back and be called away again. I understand these tough old women — I’m one myself. I feel as if I knew All about that aunt in Hampshire.
EDWARD	Hampshire?
JULIA	Didn’t you say Hampshire?
EDWARD	No, I didn’t say Hampshire.
JULIA	Did you say Hampstead?
EDWARD	No, I didn’t say Hampstead.
JULIA	But she must live somewhere.
EDWARD	She lives in Essex.
JULIA	Anywhere near Colchester? Lavinia loves oysters.
EDWARD	No. In the depths of Essex.
JULIA	Well, we won’t probe into it. You have the address, and the telephone number? I might run down and see Lavinia On my way to Cornwall. But let’s be sensible: Now you must let me be your maiden aunt — Living on an annuity, of course. I am going to make you dine alone with me On Friday, and talk to me about everything.
EDWARD	Everything?
JULIA	Oh, you know what I mean. The next election. And the secrets of your cases.
EDWARD	Most of my secrets are quite uninteresting.
JULIA	Well, you shan’t escape. You dine with me on Friday. I’ve already chosen the people you’re to meet.
EDWARD	But you asked me to dine with you alone.
JULIA	Yes, alone! Without Lavinia! You’ll like the other people — But you’re to talk to me. So that’s all settled. And now I must be going.
EDWARD	Must you be going?
PETER	But won’t you tell the story about Lady Klootz?
JULIA	What Lady Klootz?
CELIA	And the wedding cake.
JULIA	Wedding cake? I wasn’t at her wedding. Edward, it’s been a delightful evening: The potato crisps were really excellent. Now let me see. Have I got everything? It’s such a nice party, I hate to leave it. It’s such a nice party, I’d like to repeat it. Why don’t you all come to dinner on Friday? No, I’m afraid my good Mrs. Batten Would give me notice. And now I must be going.
ALEX	I’m afraid I ought to be going.
PETER	Celia — May I walk along with you?
CELIA	No, I’m sorry, Peter; I’ve got to take a taxi.
JULIA	You come with me, Peter: You can get me a taxi, and then I can drop you. I expect you on Friday, Edward. And Celia — I must see you very soon. Now don’t all go Just because I’m going. Good-bye, Edward.
EDWARD	Good-bye, Julia.
(didascalia)	[Exeunt JULIA and PETER]
CELIA	Good-bye, Edward. Shall I see you soon?
EDWARD	Perhaps. I don’t know.
CELIA	Perhaps you don’t know? Very well, good-bye.
EDWARD	Good-bye, Celia.
ALEX	Good-bye, Edward. I do hope You’ll have better news of Lavinia’s aunt.
EDWARD	Oh … yes … thank you. Good-bye, Alex, It was nice of you to come.
(didascalia)	[Exeunt ALEX and CELIA]
EDWARD	[To the UNIDENTIFIED GUEST] Don’t go yet. Don’t go yet. We’ll finish the cocktails. Or would you rather have whisky?
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	Gin.
EDWARD	Anything in it?
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	A drop of water.
EDWARD	I want to apologise for this evening. The fact is, I tried to put off this party: These were only the people I couldn’t put off Because I couldn’t get at them in time; And I didn’t know that you were coming. I thought that Lavinia had told me the names Of all the people she said she’d invited. But it’s only that dreadful old woman who mattered — I shouldn’t have minded anyone else,
(didascalia)	[The doorbell rings. EDWARD goes to the door, saying:]
EDWARD	But she always turns up when she’s least wanted.
(didascalia)	[Opens the door]
EDWARD	Julia!
(didascalia)	[Enter JULIA]
JULIA	Edward! How lucky that it’s raining! It made me remember my umbrella, And there it is! Now what are you two plotting? How very lucky it was my umbrella, And not Alexander’s — he’s so inquisitive! But I never poke into other people’s business. Well, good-bye again. I’m off at last.
(didascalia)	[Exit]
EDWARD	I’m sorry. I’m afraid I don’t know your name.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	I ought to be going.
EDWARD	Don’t go yet. I very much want to talk to somebody; And it’s easier to talk to a person you don’t know. The fact is, that Lavinia has left me.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	Your wife has left you?
EDWARD	Without warning, of course; Just when she’d arranged a cocktail party. She’d gone when I came in, this afternoon. She left a note to say that she was leaving me; But I don’t know where she’s gone.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	This is an occasion. May I take another drink?
EDWARD	Whisky?
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	Gin.
EDWARD	Anything in it?
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	Nothing but water. And I recommend you the same prescription … Let me prepare it for you, if I may … Strong … but sip it slowly … and drink it sitting down. Breathe deeply, and adopt a relaxed position. There we are. Now for a few questions. How long married?
EDWARD	Five years.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	Children?
EDWARD	No.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	Then look at the brighter side. You say you don’t know where she’s gone?
EDWARD	No, I do not.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	Do you know who the man is?
EDWARD	There was no other man — None that I know of.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	Or another woman Of whom she thought she had cause to be jealous?
EDWARD	She had nothing to complain of in my behaviour.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	Then no doubt it’s all for the best. With another man, she might have made a mistake And want to come back to you. If another woman, She might decide to be forgiving And gain an advantage. If there’s no other woman And no other man, then the reason may be deeper And you’ve ground for hope that she won’t come back at all. If another man, then you’d want to re-marry To prove to the world that somebody wanted you; If another woman, you might have to marry her — You might even imagine that you wanted to marry her.
EDWARD	But I want my wife back.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	That’s the natural reaction. It’s embarrassing, and inconvenient. It was inconvenient, having to lie about it Because you can’t tell the truth on the telephone. It will all take time that you can’t well spare; But I put it to you …
EDWARD	Don’t put it to me.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	Then I suggest …
EDWARD	And please don’t suggest. I have often used these terms in examining witnesses, So I don’t like them. May I put it to you? I know that I invited this conversation: But I don’t know who you are. This is not what I expected. I only wanted to relieve my mind By telling someone what I’d been concealing. I don’t think I want to know who you are; But, at the same time, unless you know my wife A good deal better than I thought, or unless you know A good deal more about us than appears — I think your speculations rather offensive.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	I know you as well as I know your wife; And I knew that all you wanted was the luxury Of an intimate disclosure to a stranger. Let me, therefore, remain the stranger. But let me tell you, that to approach the stranger Is to invite the unexpected, release a new force, Or let the genie out of the bottle. It is to start a train of events Beyond your control. So let me continue. I will say then, you experience some relief Of which you’re not aware. It will come to you slowly: When you wake in the morning, when you go to bed at night, That you are beginning to enjoy your independence; Finding your life becoming cosier and cosier Without the consistent critic, the patient misunderstander Arranging life a little better than you like it, Preferring not quite the same friends as yourself, Or making your friends like her better than you; And, turning the past over and over, You’ll wonder only that you endured it for so long. And perhaps at times you will feel a little jealous That she saw it first, and had the courage to break it — Thus giving herself a permanent advantage.
EDWARD	It might turn out so, yet …
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	Are you going to say, you love her?
EDWARD	Why, I thought we took each other for granted. I never thought I should be any happier With another person. Why speak of love? We were used to each other. So her going away At a moment’s notice, without explanation, Only a note to say that she had gone And was not coming back — well, I can’t understand it. Nobody likes to be left with a mystery: It’s so … unfinished.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	Yes, it’s unfinished; And nobody likes to be left with a mystery. But there’s more to it than that. There’s a loss of personality; Or rather, you’ve lost touch with the person You thought you were. You no longer feel quite human. You’re suddenly reduced to the status of an object — A living object, but no longer a person. It’s always happening, because one is an object As well as a person. But we forget about it As quickly as we can. When you’ve dressed for a party And are going downstairs, with everything about you Arranged to support you in the role you have chosen, Then sometimes, when you come to the bottom step There is one step more than your feet expected And you come down with a jolt. Just for a moment You have the experience of being an object At the mercy of a malevolent staircase. Or, take a surgical operation. In consultation with the doctor and the surgeon, In going to bed in the nursing home, In talking to the matron, you are still the subject, The centre of reality. But, stretched on the table, You are a piece of furniture in a repair shop For those who surround you, the masked actors; All there is of you is your body And the ‘you’ is withdrawn. May I replenish?
EDWARD	Oh, I’m sorry. What were you drinking? Whisky?
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	Gin.
EDWARD	Anything with it?
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	Water.
EDWARD	To what does this lead?
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	To finding out What you really are. What you really feel. What you really are among other people. Most of the time we take ourselves for granted, As we have to, and live on a little knowledge About ourselves as we were. Who are you now? You don’t know any more than I do, But rather less. You are nothing but a set Of obsolete responses. The one thing to do Is to do nothing. Wait.
EDWARD	Wait! But waiting is the one thing impossible. Besides, don’t you see that it makes me ridiculous?
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	It will do you no harm to find yourself ridiculous. Resign yourself to be the fool you are. That’s the best advice that I can give you.
EDWARD	But how can I wait, not knowing what I’m waiting for? Shall I say to my friends, ‘My wife has gone away’? And they answer ‘Where?’ and I say ‘I don’t know’; And they say, ‘But when will she be back?’ And I reply ‘I don’t know that she is coming back’. And they ask ‘But what are you going to do?’ And I answer ‘Nothing’. They will think me mad Or simply contemptible.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	All to the good. You will find that you survive humiliation. And that’s an experience of incalculable value.
EDWARD	Stop! I agree that much of what you’ve said Is true enough. But that is not all. Since I saw her this morning when we had breakfast I no longer remember what my wife is like. I am not quite sure that I could describe her If I had to ask the police to search for her. I’m sure I don’t know what she was wearing When I saw her last. And yet I want her back. And I must get her back, to find out what has happened During the five years that we’ve been married. I must find out who she is, to find out who I am. And what is the use of all your analysis If I am to remain always lost in the dark?
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	There is certainly no purpose in remaining in the dark Except long enough to clear from the mind The illusion of having ever been in the light. The fact that you can’t give a reason for wanting her Is the best reason for believing that you want her.
EDWARD	I want to see her again — here.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	You shall see her again — here.
EDWARD	Do you mean to say that you know where she is?
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	That question is not worth the trouble of an answer. But if I bring her back it must be on one condition: That you promise to ask her no questions Of where she has been.
EDWARD	I will not ask them. And yet — it seems to me — when we began to talk I was not sure I wanted her; and now I want her. Do I want her? Or is it merely your suggestion?
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	We do not know yet. In twenty-four hours She will come to you here. You will be here to meet her.
(didascalia)	[The doorbell rings]
EDWARD	I must answer the door.
(didascalia)	[EDWARD goes to the door]
EDWARD	So it’s you again, Julia!
(didascalia)	[Enter JULIA and PETER]
JULIA	Edward, I’m so glad to find you. Do you know, I must have left my glasses here, And I simply can’t see a thing without them. I’ve been dragging Peter all over town Looking for them everywhere I’ve been. Has anybody found them? You can tell if they’re mine — Some kind of a plastic sort of frame — I’m afraid I don’t remember the colour, But I’d know them, because one lens is missing. UNIDENTIFIED GUEST [Sings]. As I was drinkin’ gin and water, And me bein’ the One Eyed Riley, Who came in but the landlord’s daughter And she took my heart entirely. You will keep our appointment?
EDWARD	I shall keep it. UNIDENTIFIED GUEST [Sings]. Tooryooly toory-iley, What’s the matter with One Eyed Riley?
(didascalia)	[Exit]
JULIA	Edward, who is that dreadful man? I’ve never been so insulted in my life. It’s very lucky that I left my spectacles: This is what I call an adventure! Tell me about him. You’ve been drinking together! So this is the kind of friend you have When Lavinia is out of the way! Who is he?
EDWARD	I don’t know.
JULIA	You don’t know?
EDWARD	I never saw him before in my life.
JULIA	But how did he come here?
EDWARD	I don’t know.
JULIA	You don’t know! And what’s his name? Did I hear him say his name was Riley?
EDWARD	I don’t know his name.
JULIA	You don’t know his name?
EDWARD	I tell you I’ve no idea who he is Or how he got here.
JULIA	But what did you talk about Or were you singing songs all the time? There’s altogether too much mystery About this place to-day.
EDWARD	I’m very sorry.
JULIA	No, I love it. But that reminds me About my glasses. That’s the greatest mystery. Peter! Why aren’t you looking for them? Look on the mantelpiece. Where was I sitting? Just turn out the bottom of that sofa — No, this chair. Look under the cushion.
EDWARD	Are you quite sure they’re not in your bag?
JULIA	Why no, of course not: that’s where I keep them. Oh, here they are! Thank you, Edward; That really was very clever of you; I’d never have found them but for you. The next time I lose anything, Edward, I’ll come straight to you, instead of to St. Anthony. And now I must fly. I’ve kept the taxi waiting. Come along, Peter.
PETER	I hope you won’t mind If I don’t come with you, Julia? On the way back I remembered something I had to say to Edward …
JULIA	Oh, about Lavinia?
PETER	No, not about Lavinia. It’s something I want to consult him about, And I could do it now.
JULIA	Of course I don’t mind.
PETER	Well, at least you must let me take you down in the lift.
JULIA	No, you stop and talk to Edward. I’m not helpless yet. And besides, I like to manage the machine myself — In a lift I can meditate. Good-bye then. And thank you — both of you — very much.
(didascalia)	[Exit]
PETER	I hope I’m not disturbing you, Edward.
EDWARD	I seem to have been disturbed already; And I did rather want to be alone. But what’s it all about?
PETER	I want your help. I was going to telephone and try to see you later; But this seemed an opportunity.
EDWARD	And what’s your trouble?
PETER	This evening I felt I could bear it no longer. That awful party! I’m sorry, Edward; Of course it was really a very nice party For everyone but me. And that wasn’t your fault. I don’t suppose you noticed the situation.
EDWARD	I did think I noticed one or two things; But I don’t pretend I was aware of everything.
PETER	Oh, I’m very glad that you didn’t notice: I must have behaved rather better than I thought. If you didn’t notice, I don’t suppose the others did, Though I’m rather afraid of Julia Shuttlethwaite.
EDWARD	Julia is certainly observant, But I think she had some other matter on her mind.
PETER	It’s about Celia. Myself and Celia.
EDWARD	Why, what could there be about yourself and Celia? Have you anything in common, do you think?
PETER	It seemed to me we had a great deal in common. We’re both of us artists.
EDWARD	I never thought of that. What arts do you practise?
PETER	You won’t have seen my novel, Though it had some very good reviews. But it’s more the cinema that interests both of us.
EDWARD	A common interest in the moving pictures Frequently brings young people together.
PETER	Now you’re only being sarcastic: Celia was interested in the art of the film.
EDWARD	As a possible profession?
PETER	She might make it a profession; Though she had her poetry.
EDWARD	Yes, I’ve seen her poetry — Interesting if one is interested in Celia. Apart, of course, from its literary merit Which I don’t pretend to judge.
PETER	Well, I can judge it, And I think it’s very good. But that’s not the point. The point is, I thought we had a great deal in common And I think she thought so too.
EDWARD	How did you come to know her?
(didascalia)	[Enter ALEX]
ALEX	Ah, there you are, Edward! Do you know why I’ve looked in?
EDWARD	I’d like to know first how you got in, Alex.
ALEX	Why, I came and found that the door was open And so I thought I’d slip in and see if anyone was with you.
PETER	Julia must have left it open.
EDWARD	Never mind; So long as you both shut it when you go out.
ALEX	Ah, but you’re coming with me, Edward. I thought, Edward may be all alone this evening, And I know that he hates to spend an evening alone, So you’re going to come out and have dinner with me.
EDWARD	That’s very thoughtful of you, Alex, I’m sure; But I rather want to be alone, this evening.
ALEX	But you’ve got to have some dinner. Are you going out? Is there anyone here to get dinner for you?
EDWARD	No, I shan’t want much, and I’ll get it myself.
ALEX	Ah, in that case I know what I’ll do. I’m going to give you a little surprise: You know, I’m rather a famous cook. I’m going straight to your kitchen now And I shall prepare you a nice little dinner Which you can have alone. And then we’ll leave you. Meanwhile, you and Peter can go on talking And I shan’t disturb you.
EDWARD	My dear Alex, There’ll be nothing in the larder worthy of your cooking. I couldn’t think of it.
ALEX	Ah, but that’s my special gift — Concocting a toothsome meal out of nothing. Any scraps you have will do. I learned that in the East. With a handful of rice and a little dried fish I can make half a dozen dishes. Don’t say a word. I shall begin at once.
(didascalia)	[Exit to kitchen]
EDWARD	Well, where did you leave off?
PETER	You asked me how I came to know Celia. I met her here, about a year ago.
EDWARD	At one of Lavinia’s amateur Thursdays?
PETER	A Thursday. Why do you say amateur?
EDWARD	Lavinia’s attempts at starting a salon, Where I entertained the minor guests And dealt with the misfits, Lavinia’s mistakes. But you were one of the minor successes For a time at least.
PETER	I wouldn’t say that. But Lavinia was awfully kind to me And I owe her a great deal. And then I met Celia. She was different from any girl I’d ever known And not easy to talk to, on that occasion.
EDWARD	Did you see her often? ALEX’S VOICE. Edward, have you a double boiler?
EDWARD	I suppose there must be a double boiler: Isn’t there one in every kitchen? ALEX’S VOICE.                                 I can’t find it. There goes that surprise. I must think of another.
PETER	Not very often. And when I did, I got no chance to talk to her.
EDWARD	You and Celia were asked for different purposes. Your role was to be one of Lavinia’s discoveries; Celia’s, to provide society and fashion. Lavinia always had the ambition To establish herself in two worlds at once — But she herself had to be the link between them. That is why, I think, her Thursdays were a failure.
PETER	You speak as if everything was finished.
EDWARD	Oh no, no, everything is left unfinished. But you haven’t told me how you came to know Celia.
PETER	I saw her again a few days later Alone at a concert. And I was alone. I’ve always gone to concerts alone — At first, because I knew no one to go with, And later, I found I preferred to go alone. But a girl like Celia, it seemed very strange, Because I thought of her merely as a name In a society column, to find her there alone. Anyway, we got into conversation And I found that she went to concerts alone And to look at pictures. So we often met In the same way, and sometimes went together. And to be with Celia, that was something different From company or solitude. And we sometimes had tea And once or twice dined together.
EDWARD	And after that Did she ever introduce you to her family Or to any of her friends?
PETER	No, but once or twice she spoke of them And about their lack of intellectual interests.
EDWARD	And what happened after that?
PETER	Oh, nothing happened. But I thought that she really cared about me. And I was so happy when we were together — So … contented, so … at peace: I can’t express it; I had never imagined such quiet happiness. I had only experienced excitement, delirium, Desire for possession. It was not like that at all. It was something very strange. There was such … tranquillity …
EDWARD	And what interrupted this interesting affair?
(didascalia)	[Enter ALEX in shirtsleeves and an apron]
ALEX	Edward, I can’t find any curry powder.
EDWARD	There isn’t any curry powder. Lavinia hates curry.
ALEX	There goes another surprise, then. I must think. I didn’t expect to find any mangoes, But I did count upon curry powder.
(didascalia)	[Exit]
PETER	That is exactly what I want to know. She has simply faded — into some other picture — Like a film effect. She doesn’t want to see me; Makes excuses, not very plausible, And when I do see her, she seems preoccupied With some secret excitement which I cannot share.
EDWARD	Do you think she has simply lost interest in you?
PETER	You put it just wrong. I think of it differently. It is not her interest in me that I miss — But those moments in which we seemed to share some perception, Some feeling, some indefinable experience In which we were both unaware of ourselves. In your terms, perhaps, she’s lost interest in me.
EDWARD	That is all very normal. If you could only know How lucky you are. In a little while This might have become an ordinary affair Like any other. As the fever cooled You would have found that she was another woman And that you were another man. I congratulate you On a timely escape.
PETER	I should prefer to be spared Your congratulations. I had to talk to someone. And I have been telling you of something real — My first experience of reality And perhaps it is the last. And you don’t understand.
EDWARD	My dear Peter, I have only been telling you What would have happened to you with Celia In another six months’ time. There it is. You can take it or leave it.
PETER	But what am I to do?
EDWARD	Nothing. Wait. Go back to California.
PETER	But I must see Celia.
EDWARD	Will it be the same Celia? Better be content with the Celia you remember. Remember! I say it’s already a memory.
PETER	But I must see Celia at least to make her tell me What has happened, in her terms. Until I know that I shan’t know the truth about even the memory. Did we really share these interests? Did we really feel the same When we heard certain music? Or looked at certain pictures? There was something real. But what is the reality …
(didascalia)	[The telephone rings]
EDWARD	Excuse me a moment.
(didascalia)	[Into telephone]
EDWARD	Hello! … I can’t talk now … Yes, there is … Well then, I’ll ring you As soon as I can. [To PETER] I’m sorry. You were saying?
PETER	I was saying, what is the reality Of experience between two unreal people? If I can only hold to the memory I can bear any future. But I must find out The truth about the past, for the sake of the memory.
EDWARD	There’s no memory you can wrap in camphor But the moths will get in. So you want to see Celia. I don’t know why I should be taking all this trouble To protect you from the fool you are. What do you want me to do?
PETER	See Celia for me. You know her in a different way from me And you are so much older.
EDWARD	So much older?
PETER	Yes, I’m sure that she would listen to you As someone disinterested.
EDWARD	Well, I will see Celia.
PETER	Thank you, Edward. It’s very good of you.
(didascalia)	[Enter ALEX, with his jacket on]
ALEX	Oh, Edward! I’ve prepared you such a treat! I really think that of all my triumphs This is the greatest. To make something out of nothing! Never, even when travelling in Albania, Have I made such a supper out of so few materials As I found in your refrigerator. But of course I was lucky to find half-a-dozen eggs.
EDWARD	What! You used all those eggs! Lavinia’s aunt Has just sent them from the country.
ALEX	Ah, so the aunt Really exists. A substantial proof.
EDWARD	No, no … I mean, this is another aunt.
ALEX	I understand. The real aunt. But you’ll be grateful. There are very few peasants in Montenegro Who can have the dish that you’ll be eating, nowadays.
EDWARD	But what about my breakfast?
ALEX	Don’t worry about breakfast. All you should want is a cup of black coffee And a little dry toast. I’ve left it simmering. Don’t leave it longer than another ten minutes. Now I’ll be going, and I’ll take Peter with me.
PETER	Edward, I’ve taken too much of your time, And you want to be alone. Give my love to Lavinia When she comes back … but, if you don’t mind, I’d rather you didn’t tell her what I’ve told you.
EDWARD	I shall not say anything about it to Lavinia.
PETER	Thank you, Edward. Good night.
EDWARD	Good night, Peter, And good night, Alex. Oh, and if you don’t mind, Please shut the door after you, so that it latches.
ALEX	Remember, Edward, not more than ten minutes, Twenty minutes, and my work will be ruined.
(didascalia)	[Exeunt ALEX and PETER]
(didascalia)	[EDWARD picks up the telephone, and dials a number]
EDWARD	Is Miss Celia Coplestone in? … How long ago? … No, it doesn’t matter. CURTAIN

Act One. Scene 2

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	The same room: a quarter of an hour later. EDWARD is alone, playing Patience. The doorbell rings, and he goes to answer it. CELIA’S VOICE. Are you alone?
(didascalia)	[EDWARD returns with CELIA]
EDWARD	Celia! Why have you come back? I said I would telephone as soon as I could: And I tried to get you a short while ago.
CELIA	If there had happened to be anyone with you I was going to say I’d come back for my umbrella…. I must say you don’t seem very pleased to see me. Edward, I understand what has happened But I could not understand your manner on the telephone. It did not seem like you. So I felt I must see you. Tell me it’s all right, and then I’ll go.
EDWARD	But how can you say you understand what has happened? I don’t know what has happened, or what is going to happen; And to try to understand it, I want to be alone.
CELIA	I should have thought it was perfectly simple. Lavinia has left you.
EDWARD	Yes, that was the situation. I suppose it was pretty obvious to everyone.
CELIA	It was obvious that the aunt was a pure invention On the spur of the moment, and not a very good one. You should have been prepared with something better, for Julia; But it doesn’t really matter. They will know soon enough. Doesn’t that settle all our difficulties?
EDWARD	It has only brought to light the real difficulties.
CELIA	But surely, these are only temporary. You know I accepted the situation Because a divorce would ruin your career; And we thought that Lavinia would never want to leave you. Surely you don’t hold to that silly convention That the husband must always be the one to be divorced? And if she chooses to give you the grounds …
EDWARD	I see. But it is not like that at all. Lavinia is coming back.
CELIA	Lavinia coming back! Do you mean to say that she’s laid a trap for us?
EDWARD	No. If there is a trap, we are all in the trap, We have set it for ourselves. But I do not know What kind of a trap it is.
CELIA	Then what has happened?
(didascalia)	[The telephone rings]
EDWARD	Damn the telephone. I suppose I must answer it. Hello … oh, hello! … No. I mean yes, Alex; Yes, of course … it was marvellous. I’ve never tasted anything like it … Yes, that’s very interesting. But I just wondered Whether it mightn’t be rather indigestible? … Oh, no, Alex, don’t bring me any cheese; I’ve got some cheese … No, not Norwegian; But I don’t really want cheese … Slipper what? … Oh, from Jugoslavia … prunes and alcohol? No, really, Alex, I don’t want anything. I’m very tired. Thanks awfully, Alex. Good night.
CELIA	What on earth was that about?
EDWARD	That was Alex.
CELIA	I know it was Alex. But what was he talking of?
EDWARD	I had quite forgotten. He made his way in, a little while ago, And insisted on cooking me something for supper; And he said I must eat it within ten minutes. I suppose it’s still cooking.
CELIA	You suppose it’s still cooking! I thought I noticed a peculiar smell: Of course it’s still cooking — or doing something. I must go and investigate.
(didascalia)	[Starts to leave the room]
EDWARD	For heaven’s sake, don’t bother!
(didascalia)	[Exit CELIA]
EDWARD	Suppose someone came and found you in the kitchen?
(didascalia)	[EDWARD goes over to the table and inspects his game of Patience. He moves a card. The doorbell rings repeatedly. Re-enter CELIA, in an apron.]
CELIA	You’d better answer the door, Edward. It’s the best thing to do. Don’t lose your head. You see, I really did leave my umbrella; And I’ll say I found you here starving and helpless And had to do something. Anyway, I’m staying And I’m not going to hide.
(didascalia)	[Returns to kitchen. The bell rings again. EDWARD goes to front door, and is heard to say:]
CELIA	Julia! What have you come back for?
(didascalia)	[Enter JULIA]
JULIA	I’ve had an inspiration!
(didascalia)	[Enter CELIA with saucepan]
CELIA	Edward, it’s ruined!
EDWARD	What a good thing.
CELIA	But it’s ruined the saucepan too.
EDWARD	And half a dozen eggs: I wanted one for breakfast. A boiled egg. It’s the only thing I know how to cook.
JULIA	Celia! I see you’ve had the same inspiration That I had. Edward must be fed. He’s under such a strain. We must keep his strength up. Edward! Don’t you realise how lucky you are To have two Good Samaritans? I never heard of that before.
EDWARD	The man who fell among thieves was luckier than I: He was left at an inn.
JULIA	Edward, how ungrateful. What’s in that saucepan?
CELIA	Nobody knows.
EDWARD	It’s something that Alex came and prepared for me. He would do it. Three Good Samaritans. I forgot all about it.
JULIA	But you mustn’t touch it.
EDWARD	Of course I shan’t touch it.
JULIA	My dear, I should have warned you: Anything that Alex makes is absolutely deadly. I could tell such tales of his poisoning people. Now, my dear, you give me that apron And we’ll see what I can do. You stay and talk to Edward.
(didascalia)	[Exit JULIA]
CELIA	But what has happened, Edward? What has happened?
EDWARD	Lavinia is coming back, I think.
CELIA	You think! Don’t you know?
EDWARD	No, but I believe it. That man who was here —
CELIA	Yes, who was that man? I was rather afraid of him; He has some sort of power.
EDWARD	I don’t know who he is. But I had some talk with him, when the rest of you had left, And he said he would bring Lavinia back, tomorrow.
CELIA	But why should that man want to bring her back — Unless he is the Devil! I could believe he was.
EDWARD	Because I asked him to.
CELIA	Because you asked him to! Then he must be the Devil! He must have bewitched you. How did he persuade you to want her back?
(didascalia)	[A popping noise is heard from the kitchen]
EDWARD	What the devil’s that?
(didascalia)	[Re-enter JULIA, in apron, with a tray and three glasses]
JULIA	I’ve had an inspiration! There’s nothing in the place fit to eat: I’ve looked high and low. But I found some champagne — Only a half-bottle, to be sure, And of course it isn’t chilled. But it’s so refreshing; And I thought, we are all in need of a stimulant After this disaster. Now I’ll propose a health. Can you guess whose health I’m going to propose?
EDWARD	No, I can’t. But I won’t drink to Alex’s.
JULIA	Oh, it isn’t Alex’s. Come, I give you Lavinia’s aunt! You might have guessed it. EDWARD and CELIA. Lavinia’s aunt.
JULIA	Now, the next question Is, what’s to be done. That’s very simple. It’s too late, or too early, to go to a restaurant. You must both come home with me.
EDWARD	No, I’m sorry, Julia. I’m too tired to go out, and I’m not at all hungry. I shall have a few biscuits.
JULIA	But you, Celia? You must come and have a light supper with me — Something very light.
CELIA	Thank you, Julia. I think I will, if I may follow you In about ten minutes? Before I go, there’s something I want to say to Edward.
JULIA	About Lavinia? Well, come on quickly. And take a taxi. You know, you’re looking absolutely famished. Good night, Edward.
(didascalia)	[Exit JULIA]
CELIA	Well, how did he persuade you?
EDWARD	How did he persuade me? Did he persuade me? I have a very clear impression That he tried to persuade me it was all for the best That Lavinia had gone; that I ought to be thankful. And yet, the effect of all his argument Was to make me see that I wanted her back.
CELIA	That’s the Devil’s method! So you want Lavinia back! Lavinia! So the one thing you care about Is to avoid a break — anything unpleasant! No, it can’t be that. I won’t think it’s that. I think it is just a moment of surrender To fatigue. And panic. You can’t face the trouble.
EDWARD	No, it is not that. It is not only that.
CELIA	It cannot be simply a question of vanity: That you think the world will laugh at you Because your wife has left you for another man? I shall soon put that right, Edward, When you are free.
EDWARD	No, it is not that. And all these reasons were suggested to me By the man I call Riley — though his name is not Riley; It was just a name in a song he sang …
CELIA	He sang you a song about a man named Riley! Really, Edward, I think you are mad — I mean, you’re on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Edward, if I go away now Will you promise me to see a very great doctor Whom I have heard of — and his name is Reilly!
EDWARD	It would need someone greater than the greatest doctor To cure this illness.
CELIA	Edward, if I go now, Will you assure me that everything is right, That you do not mean to have Lavinia back And that you do mean to gain your freedom, And that everything is all right between us? That’s all that matters. Truly, Edward, If that is right, everything else will be, I promise you.
EDWARD	No, Celia. It has been very wonderful, and I’m very grateful, And I think you are a very rare person. But it was too late. And I should have known That it wasn’t fair to you.
CELIA	It wasn’t fair to me! You can stand there and talk about being fair to me!
EDWARD	But for Lavinia leaving, this would never have arisen. What future had you ever thought there could be?
CELIA	What had I thought that the future could be? I abandoned the future before we began, And after that I lived in a present Where time was meaningless, a private world of ours, Where the word ‘happiness’ had a different meaning Or so it seemed.
EDWARD	I have heard of that experience.
CELIA	A dream. I was happy in it till to-day, And then, when Julia asked about Lavinia And it came to me that Lavinia had left you And that you would be free — then I suddenly discovered That the dream was not enough; that I wanted something more And I waited, and wanted to run to tell you. Perhaps the dream was better. It seemed the real reality, And if this is reality, it is very like a dream. Perhaps it was I who betrayed my own dream All the while; and to find I wanted This world as well as that … well, it’s humiliating.
EDWARD	There is no reason why you should feel humiliated …
CELIA	Oh, don’t think that you can humiliate me! Humiliation — it’s something I’ve done to myself. I am not sure even that you seem real enough To humiliate me. I suppose that most women Would feel degraded to find that a man With whom they thought they had shared something wonderful Had taken them only as a passing diversion. Oh, I dare say that you deceived yourself: But that’s what it was, no doubt.
EDWARD	I didn’t take you as a passing diversion! If you want to speak of passing diversions How did you take Peter?
CELIA	Peter? Peter who?
EDWARD	Peter Quilpe, who was here this evening. He was in a dream And now he is simply unhappy and bewildered.
CELIA	I simply don’t know what you are talking about. Edward, this is really too crude a subterfuge To justify yourself. There was never anything Between me and Peter.
EDWARD	Wasn’t there? He thought so. He came back this evening to talk to me about it.
CELIA	But this is ridiculous! I never gave Peter Any reason to suppose I cared for him. I thought he had talent; I saw that he was lonely; I thought that I could help him. I took him to concerts. But then, as he came to make more acquaintances, I found him less interesting, and rather conceited. But why should we talk about Peter? All that matters Is, that you think you want Lavinia. And if that is the sort of person you are — Well, you had better have her.
EDWARD	It’s not like that. It is not that I am in love with Lavinia. I don’t think I was ever really in love with her. If I have ever been in love — and I think that I have — I have never been in love with anyone but you, And perhaps I still am. But this can’t go on. It never could have been … a permanent thing: You should have a man … nearer your own age.
CELIA	I don’t think I care for advice from you, Edward: You are not entitled to take any interest Now, in my future. I only hope you’re competent To manage your own. But if you are not in love And never have been in love with Lavinia, What is it that you want?
EDWARD	I am not sure. The one thing of which I am relatively certain Is, that only since this morning I have met myself as a middle-aged man Beginning to know what it is to feel old. That is the worst moment, when you feel that you have lost The desire for all that was most desirable, Before you are contented with what you can desire; Before you know what is left to be desired; And you go on wishing that you could desire What desire has left behind. But you cannot understand. How could you understand what it is to feel old?
CELIA	But I want to understand you. I could understand. And, Edward, please believe that whatever happens I shall not loathe you. I shall only feel sorry for you. It’s only myself I am in danger of loathing. But what will your life be? I cannot bear to think of it. Oh, Edward! Can you be happy with Lavinia?
EDWARD	No — not happy: or, if there is any happiness, Only the happiness of knowing That the misery does not feed on the ruin of loveliness, That the tedium is not the residue of ecstasy. I see that my life was determined long ago And that the struggle to escape from it Is only a make-believe, a pretence That what is, is not, or could be changed. The self that can say ‘I want this — or want that’ — The self that wills — he is a feeble creature; He has to come to terms in the end With the obstinate, the tougher self; who does not speak, Who never talks, who cannot argue; And who in some men may be the guardian — But in men like me, the dull, the implacable, The indomitable spirit of mediocrity. The willing self can contrive the disaster Of this unwilling partnership — but can only flourish In submission to the rule of the stronger partner.
CELIA	I am not sure, Edward, that I understand you; And yet I understand as I never did before. I think — I believe — you are being yourself As you never were before, with me. Twice you have changed since I have been looking at you. I looked at your face: and I thought that I knew And loved every contour; and as I looked It withered, as if I had unwrapped a mummy. I listened to your voice, that had always thrilled me, And it became another voice — no, not a voice: What I heard was only the noise of an insect, Dry, endless, meaningless, inhuman — You might have made it by scraping your legs together — Or however grasshoppers do it. I looked, And listened for your heart, your blood; And saw only a beetle the size of a man With nothing more inside it than what comes out When you tread on a beetle.
EDWARD	Perhaps that is what I am. Tread on me, if you like.
CELIA	No, I won’t tread on you. That is not what you are. It is only what was left Of what I had thought you were. I see another person, I see you as a person whom I never saw before. The man I saw before, he was only a projection — I see that now — of something that I wanted — No, not wanted — something I aspired to — Something that I desperately wanted to exist. It must happen somewhere — but what, and where is it? Edward, I see that I was simply making use of you. And I ask you to forgive me.
EDWARD	You … ask me to forgive you!
CELIA	Yes, for two things. First …
(didascalia)	[The telephone rings]
EDWARD	Damn the telephone. I suppose I had better answer it.
CELIA	Yes, better answer it.
EDWARD	Hello! … Oh, Julia: what is it now? Your spectacles again … where did you leave them? Or have we … have I got to hunt all over? Have you looked in your bag? … Well, don’t snap my head off … You’re sure, in the kitchen? Beside the champagne bottle? You’re quite sure? … Very well, hold on if you like; We … I’ll look for them.
CELIA	Yes, you look for them. I shall never go into your kitchen again.
(didascalia)	[Exit EDWARD. He returns with the spectacles and a bottle]
EDWARD	She was right for once.
CELIA	She is always right. But why bring an empty champagne bottle?
EDWARD	It isn’t empty. It may be a little flat — But why did she say that it was a half-bottle? It’s one of my best: and I have no half-bottles. Well, I hoped that you would drink a final glass with me.
CELIA	What should we drink to?
EDWARD	Whom shall we drink to?
CELIA	To the Guardians.
EDWARD	To the Guardians?
CELIA	To the Guardians. It was you who spoke of guardians.
(didascalia)	[They drink]
CELIA	It may be that even Julia is a guardian. Perhaps she is my guardian. Give me the spectacles. Good night, Edward.
EDWARD	Good night … Celia.
(didascalia)	[Exit CELIA]
EDWARD	Oh!
(didascalia)	[He snatches up the receiver]
EDWARD	Hello, Julia! are you there? … Well, I’m awfully sorry to have kept you waiting; But we … I had to hunt for them … No, I found them. … Yes, she’s bringing them now … Good night. CURTAIN

Act One. Scene 3

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	The same room: late afternoon of the next day. EDWARD alone. He goes to answer the doorbell.
EDWARD	Oh … good evening.
(didascalia)	[Enter the UNIDENTIFIED GUEST]
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	Good evening, Mr. Chamberlayne.
EDWARD	Well. May I offer you some gin and water?
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	No, thank you. This is a different occasion.
EDWARD	I take it that as you have come alone You have been unsuccessful.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	Not at all. I have come to remind you — you have made a decision.
EDWARD	Are you thinking that I may have changed my mind?
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	No. You will not be ready to change your mind Until you recover from having made a decision. No. I have come to tell you that you will change your mind, But that it will not matter. It will be too late.
EDWARD	I have half a mind to change my mind now To show you that I am free to change it.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	You will change your mind, but you are not free. Your moment of freedom was yesterday. You made a decision. You set in motion Forces in your life and in the lives of others Which cannot be reversed. That is one consideration. And another is this: it is a serious matter To bring someone back from the dead.
EDWARD	From the dead? That figure of speech is somewhat … dramatic, As it was only yesterday that my wife left me.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	Ah, but we die to each other daily. What we know of other people Is only our memory of the moments During which we knew them. And they have changed since then. To pretend that they and we are the same Is a useful and convenient social convention Which must sometimes be broken. We must also remember That at every meeting we are meeting a stranger.
EDWARD	So you want me to greet my wife as a stranger? That will not be easy.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	It is very difficult. But it is perhaps still more difficult To keep up the pretence that you are not strangers. The affectionate ghosts: the grandmother, The lively bachelor uncle at the Christmas party, The beloved nursemaid — those who enfolded Your childhood years in comfort, mirth, security — If they returned, would it not be embarrassing? What would you say to them, or they to you After the first ten minutes? You would find it difficult To treat them as strangers, but still more difficult To pretend that you were not strange to each other.
EDWARD	You can hardly expect me to obliterate The last five years.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	I ask you to forget nothing. To try to forget is to try to conceal.
EDWARD	There are certainly things I should like to forget.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	And persons also. But you must not forget them. You must face them all, but meet them as strangers.
EDWARD	Then I myself must also be a stranger.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	And to yourself as well. But remember, When you see your wife, you must ask no questions And give no explanations. I have said the same to her. Don’t strangle each other with knotted memories. Now I shall go.
EDWARD	Stop! Will you come back with her?
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	No, I shall not come with her.
EDWARD	I don’t know why, But I think I should like you to bring her yourself.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	Yes, I know you would. And for definite reasons Which I am not prepared to explain to you I must ask you not to speak of me to her; And she will not mention me to you.
EDWARD	I promise.
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	And now you must await your visitors.
EDWARD	Visitors? What visitors?
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	Whoever comes. The strangers. As for myself, I shall take the precaution Of leaving by the service staircase.
EDWARD	May I ask one question?
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	You may ask it.
EDWARD	Who are you?
UNIDENTIFIED GUEST	I also am a stranger.
(didascalia)	[Exit. A pause. EDWARD moves about restlessly. The bell rings, and he goes to the front door.]
EDWARD	Celia!
CELIA	Has Lavinia arrived?
EDWARD	Celia! Why have you come? I expect Lavinia at any moment. You must not be here. Why have you come here?
CELIA	Because Lavinia asked me.
EDWARD	Because Lavinia asked you!
CELIA	Well, not directly. Julia had a telegram Asking her to come, and to bring me with her. Julia was delayed, and sent me on ahead.
EDWARD	It seems very odd. And not like Lavinia. I suppose there is nothing to do but wait. Won’t you sit down?
CELIA	Thank you.
(didascalia)	[Pause]
EDWARD	Oh, my God, what shall we talk about? We can’t sit here in silence.
CELIA	Oh, I could. Just looking at you. Edward, forgive my laughing. You look like a little boy who’s been sent for To the headmaster’s study; and is not quite sure What he’s been found out in. I never saw you so before. This is really a ludicrous situation.
EDWARD	I’m afraid I can’t see the humorous side of it.
CELIA	I’m not really laughing at you, Edward. I couldn’t have laughed at anything, yesterday; But I’ve learnt a lot in twenty-four hours. It wasn’t a very pleasant experience. Oh, I’m glad I came! I can see you at last as a human being. Can’t you see me that way too, and laugh about it?
EDWARD	I wish I could. I wish I understood anything. I’m completely in the dark.
CELIA	But it’s all so simple. Can’t you see that …
(didascalia)	[The doorbell rings]
EDWARD	There’s Lavinia.
(didascalia)	[Goes to front door]
EDWARD	Peter!
(didascalia)	[Enter PETER]
PETER	Where’s Lavinia?
EDWARD	Don’t tell me that Lavinia Sent you a telegram …
PETER	No, not to me, But to Alex. She told him to come here And to bring me with him. He’ll be here in a minute. Celia! Have you heard from Lavinia too? Or am I interrupting?
CELIA	I’ve just explained to Edward — I only got here this moment myself — That she telegraphed to Julia to come and bring me with her.
EDWARD	I wonder whom else Lavinia has invited.
PETER	Why, I got the impression that Lavinia intended To have yesterday’s cocktail party to-day. So I don’t suppose her aunt can have died.
EDWARD	What aunt?
PETER	The aunt you told us about. But Edward — you remember our conversation yesterday?
EDWARD	Of course.
PETER	I hope you’ve done nothing about it.
EDWARD	No, I’ve done nothing.
PETER	I’m so glad. Because I’ve changed my mind. I mean, I’ve decided That it’s all no use. I’m going to California.
CELIA	You’re going to California!
PETER	Yes, I have a new job.
EDWARD	And how did that happen, overnight?
PETER	Why, it’s a man Alex put me in touch with And we settled everything this morning. Alex is a wonderful person to know, Because, you see, he knows everybody, everywhere. So what I’ve really come for is to say good-bye.
CELIA	Well, Peter, I’m awfully glad, for your sake, Though of course we … I shall miss you; You know how I depended on you for concerts, And picture exhibitions — more than you realised. It was fun, wasn’t it! But now you’ll have a chance, I hope, to realise your ambitions. I shall miss you.
PETER	It’s nice of you to say so; But you’ll find someone better, to go about with.
CELIA	I don’t think that I shall be going to concerts. I am going away too.
(didascalia)	[LAVINIA lets herself in with a latch-key]
PETER	You’re going abroad?
CELIA	I don’t know. Perhaps.
EDWARD	You’re both going away!
(didascalia)	[Enter LAVINIA]
LAVINIA	Who’s going away? Well, Celia. Well, Peter. I didn’t expect to find either of you here. PETER and CELIA. But the telegram!
LAVINIA	What telegram?
CELIA	The one you sent to Julia.
PETER	And the one you sent to Alex.
LAVINIA	I don’t know what you mean. Edward, have you been sending telegrams?
EDWARD	Of course I haven’t sent any telegrams.
LAVINIA	This is some of Julia’s mischief. And is she coming?
PETER	Yes, and Alex.
LAVINIA	Then I shall ask them for an explanation. Meanwhile, I suppose we might as well sit down. What shall we talk about?
EDWARD	Peter’s going to America.
PETER	Yes, and I would have rung you up tomorrow And come in to say good-bye before I left.
LAVINIA	And Celia’s going too? Was that what I heard? I congratulate you both. To Hollywood, of course? How exciting for you, Celia! Now you’ll have a chance At last, to realise your ambitions. You’re going together?
PETER	We’re not going together. Celia told us she was going away, But I don’t know where.
LAVINIA	You don’t know where? And do you know where you are going, yourself?
PETER	Yes, of course, I’m going to California.
LAVINIA	Well, Celia, why don’t you go to California? Everyone says it’s a wonderful climate: The people who go there never want to leave it.
CELIA	Lavinia, I think I understand about Peter …
LAVINIA	I have no doubt you do.
CELIA	And why he is going …
LAVINIA	I don’t doubt that either.
CELIA	And I believe he is right to go.
LAVINIA	Oh, so you advised him?
PETER	She knew nothing about it.
CELIA	But now that I may be going away — somewhere — I should like to say good-bye — as friends.
LAVINIA	Why, Celia, but haven’t we always been friends? I thought you were one of my dearest friends — At least, in so far as a girl can be a friend Of a woman so much older than herself.
CELIA	Lavinia, Don’t put me off. I may not see you again. What I want to say is this: I should like you to remember me As someone who wants you and Edward to be happy.
LAVINIA	You are very kind, but very mysterious. I’m sure that we shall manage somehow, thank you, As we have in the past.
CELIA	Oh, not as in the past!
(didascalia)	[The doorbell rings, and EDWARD goes to answer it]
CELIA	Oh, I’m afraid that all this sounds rather silly! But …
(didascalia)	[EDWARD re-enters with JULIA]
JULIA	There you are, Lavinia! I’m sorry to be late. But your telegram was a bit unexpected. I dropped everything to come. And how is the dear aunt?
LAVINIA	So far as I know, she is very well, thank you.
JULIA	She must have made a marvellous recovery. I said so to myself, when I got your telegram.
LAVINIA	But where, may I ask, was this telegram sent from?
JULIA	Why, from Essex, of course.
LAVINIA	And why from Essex?
JULIA	Because you’ve been in Essex.
LAVINIA	Because I’ve been in Essex!
JULIA	Lavinia! Don’t say you’ve had a lapse of memory! Then that accounts for the aunt — and the telegram.
LAVINIA	Well, perhaps I was in Essex. I really don’t know.
JULIA	You don’t know where you were? Lavinia! Don’t tell me you were abducted! Tell us I’m thrilled …
(didascalia)	[The doorbell rings. EDWARD goes to answer it. Enter ALEX]
ALEX	Has Lavinia arrived?
EDWARD	Yes.
ALEX	Welcome back, Lavinia! When I got your telegram …
LAVINIA	Where from?
ALEX	Dedham.
LAVINIA	Dedham is in Essex. So it was from Dedham. Edward, have you any friends in Dedham?
EDWARD	No, I have no connections in Dedham.
JULIA	Well, it’s all delightfully mysterious.
ALEX	But what is the mystery?
JULIA	Alex, don’t be inquisitive. Lavinia has had a lapse of memory, And so, of course, she sent us telegrams: And now I don’t believe she really wants us. I can see that she is quite worn out After her anxiety about her aunt — Who, you’ll be glad to hear, has quite recovered, Alex — And after that long journey on the old Great Eastern, Waiting at junctions. And I suppose she’s famished.
ALEX	Ah, in that case I know what I’ll do …
JULIA	No, Alex. We must leave them alone, and let Lavinia rest. Now we’ll all go back to my house. Peter, call a taxi.
(didascalia)	[Exit PETER]
JULIA	We’ll have a cocktail party at my house to-day.
CELIA	Well, I’ll go now. Good-bye, Lavinia. Good-bye, Edward.
EDWARD	Good-bye, Celia.
CELIA	Good-bye, Lavinia.
LAVINIA	Good-bye, Celia.
(didascalia)	[Exit CELIA]
JULIA	And now, Alex, you and I should be going.
EDWARD	Are you sure you haven’t left anything, Julia?
JULIA	Left anything? Oh, you mean my spectacles. No, they’re here. Besides, they’re no use to me. I’m not coming back again this evening.
LAVINIA	Stop! I want you to explain the telegram.
JULIA	Explain the telegram? What do you think, Alex?
ALEX	No, Julia, we can’t explain the telegram.
LAVINIA	I am sure that you could explain the telegram. I don’t know why. But it seems to me that yesterday I started some machine, that goes on working, And I cannot stop it; no, it’s not like a machine — Or if it’s a machine, someone else is running it. But who? Somebody is always interfering … I don’t feel free … and yet I started it …
JULIA	Alex, do you think we could explain anything?
ALEX	I think not, Julia. She must find out for herself: That’s the only way.
JULIA	How right you are! Well, my dears, I shall see you very soon.
EDWARD	When shall we see you?
JULIA	Did I say you’d see me? Good-bye. I believe … I haven’t left anything.
(didascalia)	[Enter PETER]
PETER	I’ve got a taxi, Julia.
JULIA	Splendid! Good-bye!
(didascalia)	[Exeunt JULIA, ALEX and PETER]
LAVINIA	I must say, you don’t seem very pleased to see me.
EDWARD	I can’t say that I’ve had much opportunity To seem anything. But of course I’m glad to see you.
LAVINIA	Yes, that was a silly thing to say. Like a schoolgirl. Like Celia. I don’t know why I said it. Well, here I am.
EDWARD	I am to ask no questions.
LAVINIA	And I know I am to give no explanations.
EDWARD	And I am to give no explanations.
LAVINIA	And I am to ask no questions. And yet … why not?
EDWARD	I don’t know why not. So what are we to talk about?
LAVINIA	There is one thing I ought to know, because of other people And what to do about them. It’s about that party. I suppose you won’t believe I forgot all about it! I let you down badly. What did you do about it? I only remembered after I had left.
EDWARD	I telephoned to everyone I knew was coming But I couldn’t get everyone. And so a few came.
LAVINIA	Who came?
EDWARD	Just those who were here this evening …
LAVINIA	That’s odd.
EDWARD	… and one other. I don’t know who he was, But you ought to know.
LAVINIA	Yes, I think I know. But I’m puzzled by Julia. That woman is the devil. She know’s by instinct when something’s going to happen. Trust her not to miss any awkward situation! And what did you tell them?
EDWARD	I invented an aunt Who was ill in the country, and had sent for you.
LAVINIA	Really, Edward! You had better have told the truth: Nothing less than the truth could deceive Julia. But how did the aunt come to live in Essex?
EDWARD	Julia compelled me to make her live somewhere.
LAVINIA	I see. So Julia made her live in Essex; And made the telegrams come from Essex. Well, I shall have to tell Julia the truth. I shall always tell the truth now. We have wasted such a lot of time in lying.
EDWARD	I don’t quite know what you mean.
LAVINIA	Oh, Edward! The point is, that since I’ve been away I see that I’ve taken you much too seriously. And now I can see how absurd you are.
EDWARD	That is a very serious conclusion To have arrived at in … how many? … thirty-two hours.
LAVINIA	Yes, a very important discovery, Finding that you’ve spent five years of your life With a man who has no sense of humour; And that the effect upon me was That I lost all sense of humour myself. That’s what came of always giving in to you.
EDWARD	I was unaware that you’d always given in to me. It struck me very differently. As we’re on the subject, I thought that it was I who had given in to you.
LAVINIA	I know what you mean by giving in to me: You mean, leaving all the practical decisions That you should have made yourself. I remember — Oh, I ought to have realised what was coming — When we were planning our honeymoon, I couldn’t make you say where you wanted to go …
EDWARD	But I wanted you to make that decision.
LAVINIA	But how could I tell where I wanted to go Unless you suggested some other place first? And I remember that finally in desperation I said: ‘I suppose you’d as soon go to Peacehaven’ — And you said ‘I don’t mind’.
EDWARD	Of course I didn’t mind. I meant it as a compliment.
LAVINIA	You meant it as a compliment! And you were so considerate, people said; And you thought you were unselfish. It was only passivity; You only wanted to be bolstered, encouraged….
EDWARD	Encouraged? To what?
LAVINIA	To think well of yourself. You know it was I who made you work at the Bar …
EDWARD	You nagged me because I didn’t get enough work And said that I ought to meet more people: But when the briefs began to come in — And they didn’t come through any of your friends — You suddenly found it inconvenient That I should be always too busy or too tired To be of use to you socially …
LAVINIA	I never complained.
EDWARD	No; and it was perfectly infuriating, The way you didn’t complain …
LAVINIA	It was you who complained Of seeing nobody but solicitors and clients …
EDWARD	And you were never very sympathetic.
LAVINIA	Well, but I tried to do something about it. That was why I took so much trouble To have those Thursdays, to give you the chance Of talking to intellectual people …
EDWARD	You would have given me about as much opportunity If you had hired me as your butler: Some of your guests may have thought I was the butler.
LAVINIA	And on several occasions, when somebody was coming Whom I particularly wanted you to meet, You didn’t arrive until just as they were leaving.
EDWARD	Well, at least, they can’t have thought I was the butler.
LAVINIA	Everything I tried only made matters worse, And the moment you were offered something that you wanted You wanted something else. I shall treat you very differently In future.
EDWARD	Thank you for the warning. But tell me, Since this is how you see me, why did you come back?
LAVINIA	Frankly, I don’t know. I was warned of the danger, Yet something, or somebody, compelled me to come. And why did you want me?
EDWARD	I don’t know either. You say you were trying to ‘encourage’ me: Then why did you always make me feel insignificant? I may not have known what life I wanted, But it wasn’t the life you chose for me. You wanted your husband to be successful, You wanted me to supply a public background For your kind of public life. You wished to be a hostess For whom my career would be a support. Well, I tried to be accommodating. But, in future, I shall behave, I assure you, very differently.
LAVINIA	Bravo! Edward. This is surprising. Now who could have taught you to answer back like that?
EDWARD	I have had quite enough humiliation Lately, to bring me to the point At which humiliation ceases to humiliate. You get to the point at which you cease to feel And then you speak your mind.
LAVINIA	That will be a novelty To find that you have a mind to speak. Anyway, I’m prepared to take you as you are.
EDWARD	You mean, you are prepared to take me As I was, or as you think I am. But what do you think I am?
LAVINIA	Oh, what you always were. As for me, I’m rather a different person Whom you must get to know.
EDWARD	This is very interesting: But you seem to assume that you’ve done all the changing — Though I haven’t yet found it a change for the better. But doesn’t it occur to you that possibly I may have changed too?
LAVINIA	Oh, Edward, when you were a little boy, I’m sure you were always getting yourself measured To prove how you had grown since the last holidays. You were always intensely concerned with yourself; And if other people grow, well, you want to grow too. In what way have you changed?
EDWARD	The change that comes From seeing oneself through the eyes of other people.
LAVINIA	That must have been very shattering for you. But never mind, you’ll soon get over it And find yourself another little part to play, With another face, to take people in.
EDWARD	One of the most infuriating things about you Has always been your perfect assurance That you understood me better than I understood myself.
LAVINIA	And the most infuriating thing about you Has always been your placid assumption That I wasn’t worth the trouble of understanding.
EDWARD	So here we are again. Back in the trap, With only one difference, perhaps — we can fight each other, Instead of each taking his corner of the cage. Well, it’s a better way of passing the evening Than listening to the gramophone.
LAVINIA	We have very good records; But I always suspected that you really hated music And that the gramophone was only your escape From talking to me when we had to be alone.
EDWARD	I’ve often wondered why you married me.
LAVINIA	Well, you really were rather attractive, you know; And you kept on saying that you were in love with me — I believe you were trying to persuade yourself you were. I seemed always on the verge of some wonderful experience And then it never happened. I wonder now How you could have thought you were in love with me.
EDWARD	Everybody told me that I was; And they told me how well suited we were.
LAVINIA	It’s a pity that you had no opinion of your own. Oh, Edward, I should like to be good to you — Or if that’s impossible, at least be horrid to you — Anything but nothing, which is all you seem to want of me. But I’m sorry for you …
EDWARD	Don’t say you are sorry for me! I have had enough of people being sorry for me.
LAVINIA	Yes, because they can never be so sorry for you As you are for yourself. And that’s hard to bear. I thought that there might be some way out for you If I went away. I thought that if I died To you, I who had been only a ghost to you, You might be able to find the road back To a time when you were real — for you must have been real At some time or other, before you ever knew me: Perhaps only when you were a child.
EDWARD	I don’t want you to make yourself responsible for me: It’s only another kind of contempt. And I do not want you to explain me to myself. You’re still trying to invent a personality for me Which will only keep me away from myself.
LAVINIA	You’re complicating what is in fact very simple. But there is one point which I see clearly: We are not to relapse into the kind of life we led Until yesterday morning.
EDWARD	There was a door And I could not open it. I could not touch the handle. Why could I not walk out of my prison? What is hell? Hell is oneself, Hell is alone, the other figures in it Merely projections. There is nothing to escape from And nothing to escape to. One is always alone.
LAVINIA	Edward, what are you talking about? Talking to yourself. Could you bear, for a moment, To think about me?
EDWARD	It was only yesterday That damnation took place. And now I must live with it Day by day, hour by hour, for ever and ever.
LAVINIA	I think you’re on the edge of a nervous breakdown!
EDWARD	Don’t say that!
LAVINIA	I must say it. I know … of a doctor who I think could help you.
EDWARD	If I go to a doctor, I shall make my own choice; Not take one whom you choose. How do I know That you wouldn’t see him first, and tell him all about me From your point of view? But I don’t need a doctor. I am simply in hell. Where there are no doctors — At least, not in a professional capacity.
LAVINIA	One can be practical, even in hell: And you know I am much more practical than you are.
EDWARD	I ought to know by now what you consider practical. Practical! I remember, on our honeymoon, You were always wrapping things up in tissue paper And then had to unwrap everything again To find what you wanted. And I never could teach you How to put the cap on a tube of tooth-paste.
LAVINIA	Very well, then, I shall not try to press you. You’re much too divided to know what you want. But, being divided, you will tend to compromise, And your sort of compromise will be the old one.
EDWARD	You don’t understand me. Have I not made it clear That in future you will find me a different person?
LAVINIA	Indeed. And has the difference nothing to do With Celia going to California?
EDWARD	Celia? Going to California?
LAVINIA	Yes, with Peter. Really, Edward, if you were human You would burst out laughing. But you won’t.
EDWARD	O God, O God, if I could return to yesterday Before I thought that I had made a decision. What devil left the door on the latch For these doubts to enter? And then you came back, you The angel of destruction — just as I felt sure. In a moment, at your touch, there is nothing but ruin. O God, what have I done? The python. The octopus. Must I become after all what you would make me?
LAVINIA	Well, Edward, as I am unable to make you laugh, And as I can’t persuade you to see a doctor, There’s nothing else at present that I can do about it. I ought to go and have a look in the kitchen. I know there are some eggs. But we must go out for dinner. Meanwhile, my luggage is in the hall downstairs: Will you get the porter to fetch it up for me? CURTAIN