The Complete Poems and Plays of T. S. Eliot

by By (author): T. S. Eliot

  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.

  [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?

  [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.

  [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 co
ncerts 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?

  [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.

  [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 …

  [The telephone rings]

  EDWARD. Excuse me a moment.

  [Into telephone]

  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.

  [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.

  [Exeunt ALEX and PETER]

  [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

  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?

  [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?

  [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!