Complete Poems and Plays

by T. S. Eliot

Where there are various endemic diseases

  Besides, of course, those brought by Europeans,

  And where the conditions are favourable to plague.

  EDWARD. Go on.

  ALEX. It seems that there were three of them —

  Three sisters at this station, in a Christian village;

  And half the natives were dying of pestilence.

  They must have been overworked for weeks.

  EDWARD. And then?

  ALEX. And then, the insurrection broke out

  Among the heathen, of which I was telling you.

  They knew of it, but would not leave the dying natives.

  Eventually, two of them escaped:

  One died in the jungle, and the other

  Will never be fit for normal life again.

  But Celia Coplestone, she was taken.

  When our people got there, they questioned the villagers —

  Those who survived. And then they found her body,

  Or at least, they found the traces of it.

  EDWARD. But before that …

  ALEX. It was difficult to tell.

  But from what we know of local practices

  It would seem that she must have been crucified

  Very near an ant-hill.

  LAVINIA. But Celia! … Of all people …

  EDWARD. And just for a handful of plague-stricken natives

  Who would have died anyway.

  ALEX. Yes, the patients died anyway;

  Being tainted with the plague, they were not eaten.

  LAVINIA. Oh, Edward, I’m so sorry — what a feeble thing to say!

  But you know what I mean.

  EDWARD. And you know what I’m thinking.

  PETER. I don’t understand at all. But then I’ve been away

  For two years, and I don’t know what happened

  To Celia, during those two years.

  Two years! Thinking about Celia.

  EDWARD. It’s the waste that I resent.

  PETER. You know more than I do:

  For me, it’s everything else that’s a waste.

  Two years! And it was all a mistake.

  Julia! Why don’t you say anything?

  JULIA. You gave her those two years, as best you could.

  PETER. When did she … take up this career?

  JULIA. Two years ago.

  PETER. Two years ago! I tried to forget about her,

  Until I began to think myself a success

  And got a little more self-confidence;

  And then I thought about her again. More and more.

  At first I did not want to know about Celia

  And so I never asked. Then I wanted to know

  And did not dare to ask. It took all my courage

  To ask you about her just now; but I never thought

  Of anything like this. I suppose I didn’t know her,

  I didn’t understand her. I understand nothing.

  REILLY. You understand your métier, Mr. Quilpe —

  Which is the most that any of us can ask for.

  PETER. And what a métier! I’ve tried to believe in it

  So that I might believe in myself.

  I thought I had ideas to make a revolution

  In the cinema, that no one could ignore —

  And here I am, making a second-rate film!

  But I thought it was going to lead to something better,

  And that seemed possible, while Celia was alive.

  I wanted it, believed in it, for Celia.

  And, of course, I wanted to do something for Celia —

  But what mattered was, that Celia was alive.

  And now it’s all worthless. Celia’s not alive.

  LAVINIA. No, it’s not all worthless, Peter. You’ve only just begun.

  I mean, this only brings you to the point

  At which you must begin. You were saying just now

  That you never knew Celia. We none of us did.

  What you’ve been living on is an image of Celia

  Which you made for yourself, to meet your own needs.

  Peter, please don’t think I’m being unkind …

  PETER. No, I don’t think you’re being unkind, Lavinia;

  And I know that you’re right.

  LAVINIA. And perhaps what I’ve been saying

  Will seem less unkind if I can make you understand

  That in fact I’ve been talking about myself.

  EDWARD. Lavinia is right. This is where you start from.

  If you find out now, Peter, things about yourself

  That you don’t like to face: well, just remember

  That some men have to learn much worse things

  About themselves, and learn them later

  When it’s harder to recover, and make a new beginning.

  It’s not so hard for you. You’re naturally good.

  PETER. I’m sorry. I don’t believe I’ve taken in

  All that you’ve been saying. But I’m grateful all the same.

  You know, all the time that you’ve been talking,

  One thought has been going round and round in my head —

  That I’ve only been interested in myself:

  And that isn’t good enough for Celia.

  JULIA. You must have learned how to look at people, Peter,

  When you look at them with an eye for the films:

  That is, when you’re not concerned with yourself

  But just being an eye. You will come to think of Celia

  Like that, one day. And then you’ll understand her

  And be reconciled, and be happy in the thought of her.

  LAVINIA. Sir Henry, there is something I want to say to you.

  While Alex was telling us what had happened to Celia

  I was looking at your face. And it seemed from your expression

  That the way in which she died did not disturb you

  Or the fact that she died because she would not leave

  A few dying natives.

  REILLY. Who knows, Mrs. Chamberlayne,

  The difference that made to the natives who were dying

  Or the state of mind in which they died?

  LAVINIA. I’m willing to grant that. What struck me, though,

  Was that your face showed no surprise or horror

  At the way in which she died. I don’t know if you knew her.

  I suspect that you did. In any case you knew about her.

  Yet I thought your expression was one of … satisfaction!

  REILLY. Mrs. Chamberlayne, I must be very transparent

  Or else you are very perceptive.

  JULIA. Oh, Henry!

  Lavinia is much more observant than you think.

  I believe that she has forced you to a show-down.

  REILLY. You state the position correctly, Julia.

  Do you mind if I quote poetry, Mrs. Chamberlayne?

  LAVINIA. Oh no, I should love to hear you speaking poetry …

  JULIA. She has made a point, Henry.

  LAVINIA. … if it answers my question.

  REILLY. Ere Babylon was dust

  The magus Zoroaster, my dead child,

  Met his own image walking in the garden.

  That apparition, sole of men, he saw.

  For know there are two worlds of life and death:

  One that which thou beholdest; but the other

  Is underneath the grave, where do inhabit

  The shadows of all forms that think and live

  Till death unite them and they part no more!

  When I first met Miss Coplestone, in this room,

  I saw the image, standing behind her chair,

  Of a Celia Coplestone whose face showed the astonishment

  Of the first five minutes after a violent death.

  If this strains your credulity, Mrs. Chamberlayne,

  I ask you only to entertain the suggestion

  That a sudden intuition, in certain minds,

  May ten
d to express itself at once in a picture.

  That happens to me, sometimes. So it was obvious

  That here was a woman under sentence of death.

  That was her destiny. The only question

  Then was, what sort of death? I could not know;

  Because it was for her to choose the way of life

  To lead to death, and, without knowing the end

  Yet choose the form of death. We know the death she chose.

  I did not know that she would die in this way;

  She did not know. So all that I could do

  Was to direct her in the way of preparation.

  That way, which she accepted, led to this death.

  And if that is not a happy death, what death is happy?

  EDWARD. Do you mean that having chosen this form of death

  She did not suffer as ordinary people suffer?

  REILLY. Not at all what I mean. Rather the contrary.

  I’d say that she suffered all that we should suffer

  In fear and pain and loathing — all these together —

  And reluctance of the body to become a thing.

  I’d say she suffered more, because more conscious

  Than the rest of us. She paid the highest price

  In suffering. That is part of the design.

  LAVINIA. Perhaps she had been through greater agony beforehand.

  I mean — I know nothing of her last two years.

  REILLY. That shows some insight on your part, Mrs. Chamberlayne;

  But such experience can only be hinted at

  In myths and images. To speak about it

  We talk of darkness, labyrinths, Minotaur terrors.

  But that world does not take the place of this one.

  Do you imagine that the Saint in the desert

  With spiritual evil always at his shoulder

  Suffered any less from hunger, damp, exposure,

  Bowel trouble, and the fear of lions,

  Cold of the night and heat of the day, than we should?

  EDWARD. But if this was right — if this was right for Celia —

  There must be something else that is terribly wrong,

  And the rest of us are somehow involved in the wrong.

  I should only speak for myself. I’m sure that I am.

  REILLY. Let me free your mind from one impediment:

  You must try to detach yourself from what you still feel

  As your responsibility.

  EDWARD. I cannot help the feeling

  That, in some way, my responsibility

  Is greater than that of a band of half-crazed savages.

  LAVINIA. Oh, Edward, I knew! I knew what you were thinking!

  Doesn’t it help you, that I feel guilty too?

  REILLY. If we all were judged according to the consequences

  Of all our words and deeds, beyond the intention

  And beyond our limited understanding

  Of ourselves and others, we should all be condemned.

  Mrs. Chamberlayne, I often have to make a decision

  Which may mean restoration or ruin to a patient —

  And sometimes I have made the wrong decision.

  As for Miss Coplestone, because you think her death was waste

  You blame yourselves, and because you blame yourselves

  You think her life was wasted. It was triumphant.

  But I am no more responsible for the triumph —

  And just as responsible for her death as you are.

  LAVINIA. Yet I know I shall go on blaming myself

  For being so unkind to her … so spiteful.

  I shall go on seeing her at the moment

  When she said good-bye to us, two years ago.

  EDWARD. Your responsibility is nothing to mine, Lavinia.

  LAVINIA. I’m not sure about that. If I had understood you

  Then I might not have misunderstood Celia.

  REILLY. You will have to live with these memories and make them

  Into something new. Only by acceptance

  Of the past will you alter its meaning.

  JULIA. Henry, I think it is time that I said something:

  Everyone makes a choice, of one kind or another,

  And then must take the consequences. Celia chose

  A way of which the consequence was Kinkanja.

  Peter chose a way that leads him to Boltwell:

  And he’s got to go there …

  PETER. I see what you mean.

  I wish I didn’t have to. But the car will be waiting,

  And the experts — I’d almost forgotten them.

  I realise that I can’t get out of it —

  And what else can I do?

  ALEX. It is your film.

  And I know that Bela expects great things of it.

  PETER. So now I’ll be going.

  EDWARD. Shall we see you again, Peter,

  Before you leave England?

  LAVINIA. Do try to come to see us.

  You know, I think it would do us all good —

  You and me and Edward … to talk about Celia.

  PETER. Thanks very much. But not this time —

  I simply shan’t be able to.

  EDWARD. But on your next visit?

  PETER. The next time I come to England, I promise you.

  I really do want to see you both, very much.

  Good-bye, Julia. Good-bye, Alex. Good-bye, Sir Henry. [Exit]

  JULIA. … And now the consequence of the Chamberlaynes’ choice

  Is a cocktail party. They must be ready for it.

  Their guests may be arriving at any moment.

  REILLY. Julia, you are right. It is also right

  That the Chamberlaynes should now be giving a party.

  LAVINIA. And I have been thinking, for these last five minutes,

  How I could face my guests. I wish it was over.

  I mean … I am glad you came … I am glad Alex told us …

  And Peter had to know …

  EDWARD. Now I think I understand …

  LAVINIA. Then I hope you will explain it to me!

  EDWARD. Oh, it isn’t much

  That I understand yet! But Sir Henry has been saying,

  I think, that every moment is a fresh beginning;

  And Julia, that life is only keeping on;

  And somehow, the two ideas seem to fit together.

  LAVINIA. But all the same … I don’t want to see these people.

  REILLY. It is your appointed burden. And as for the party,

  I am sure it will be a success.

  JULIA. And I think, Henry,

  That we should leave before the party begins.

  They will get on better without us. You too, Alex.

  LAVINIA. We don’t want you to go!

  ALEX. We have another engagement.

  REILLY. And on this occasion I shall not be unexpected.

  JULIA. Now, Henry. Now, Alex. We’re going to the Gunnings.

  [Exeunt JULIA, REILLY and ALEX]

  LAVINIA. Edward, how am I looking?

  EDWARD. Very well.

  I might almost say, your best. But you always look your best.

  LAVINIA. Oh, Edward, that spoils it. No woman can believe

  That she always looks her best. You’re rather transparent,

  You know, when you’re trying to cheer me up.

  To say I always look my best can only mean the worst.

  EDWARD. I never shall learn how to pay a compliment.

  LAVINIA. What you should have done was to admire my dress.

  EDWARD. But I’ve already told you how much I like it.

  LAVINIA. But so much has happened since then. And besides,

  One sometimes likes to hear the same compliment twice.

  EDWARD. And now for the party.

  LAVINIA. Now for the party.

  EDWARD. It will soon be over.

  LAVINIA. I wish it would begin.

  EDWARD. There’s the d
oorbell.