JULIA. I wondered where you were taking us, with your monkeys.
I thought I was going to dine out on those monkeys:
But one can’t dine out on eating Christians —
Even among pagans!
ALEX. Not on the whole story.
EDWARD. And have any of the English residents been murdered?
ALEX. Yes, but they are not usually eaten.
When these people have done with a European
He is, as a rule, no longer fit to eat.
EDWARD. And what has your commission accomplished?
ALEX. We have just drawn up an interim report.
EDWARD. Will it be made public?
ALEX. It cannot be, at present:
There are too many international complications.
Eventually, there may be an official publication.
EDWARD. But when?
ALEX. In a year or two.
EDWARD. And meanwhile?
ALEX. Meanwhile the monkeys multiply.
LAVINIA. And the Christians?
ALEX. Ah, the Christians! Now, I think I ought to tell you
About someone you know — or knew …
JULIA. Edward!
Somebody must have walked over my grave:
I’m feeling so chilly. Give me some gin.
Not a cocktail. I’m freezing — in July!
CATERER’S MAN. Mr. Quilpe!
EDWARD. Now who …
[Enter PETER]
Why, it’s Peter!
LAVINIA. Peter!
PETER. Hullo, everybody!
LAVINIA. When did you arrive?
PETER. I flew over from New York last night —
I left Los Angeles three days ago.
I saw Sheila Paisley at lunch to-day
And she told me you were giving a party —
She’s coming on later, after the Gunnings —
So I said, I really must crash in:
It’s my only chance to see Edward and Lavinia.
I’m only over for a week, you see,
And I’m driving down to the country this evening,
So I knew you wouldn’t mind my looking in so early.
It does seem ages since I last saw any of you!
And how are you, Alex? And dear old Julia!
LAVINIA. So you’ve just come from New York.
PETER. Yes, from New York.
The Bologolomskys saw me off.
You remember Princess Bologolomsky
In the old days? We dined the other night
At the Saffron Monkey. That’s the place to go now.
ALEX. How very odd. My monkeys are saffron.
PETER. Your monkeys, Alex? I always said
That Alex knew everybody. But I didn’t know
That he knew any monkeys.
JULIA. But give us your news;
Give us your news of the world, Peter.
We lead such a quiet life, here in London.
PETER. You always did enjoy a leg-pull, Julia:
But you all know I’m working for Pan-Am-Eagle?
EDWARD. No. Tell us, what is Pan-Am-Eagle?
PETER. You must have been living a quiet life!
Don’t you go to the movies?
LAVINIA. Occasionally.
PETER. Alex knows.
Did you see my last picture, Alex?
ALEX. I knew about it, but I didn’t see it.
There is no cinema in Kinkanja.
PETER. Kinkanja? Where’s that? They don’t have pictures?
Pan-Am-Eagle must look into this.
Perhaps it would be a good place to make one.
— Alex knows all about Pan-Am-Eagle:
It was he who introduced me to the great Bela.
JULIA. And who is the great Bela?
PETER. Why, Bela Szogody —
He’s my boss. I thought everyone knew his name.
JULIA. Is he your connection in California, Alex?
ALEX. Yes, we have sometimes obliged each other.
PETER. Well, it was Bela sent me over
Just for a week. And I have my hands full
I’m going down tonight, to Boltwell.
JULIA. To stay with the Duke?
PETER. And do him a good turn.
We’re making a film of English life
And we want to use Boltwell.
JULIA. But I understood that Boltwell
Is in a very decayed condition.
PETER. Exactly. It is. And that’s why we’re interested.
The most decayed noble mansion in England!
At least, of any that are still inhabited.
We’ve got a team of experts over
To study the decay, so as to reproduce it.
Then we build another Boltwell in California.
JULIA. But what is your position, Peter?
Have you become an expert on decaying houses?
PETER. Oh dear no! I’ve written the script of this film,
And Bela is very pleased with it.
He thought I should see the original Boltwell;
And besides, he thought that as I’m English
I ought to know the best way to handle a duke.
Besides that, we’ve got the casting director:
He’s looking for some typical English faces —
Of course, only for minor parts —
And I’ll help him decide what faces are typical.
JULIA. Peter, I’ve thought of a wonderful idea!
I’ve always wanted to go to California:
Couldn’t you persuade your casting director
To take us all over? We’re all very typical.
PETER. No, I’m afraid …
CATERER’S MAN. Sir Henry Harcourt-Reilly!
JULIA. Oh, I forgot! I’d another surprise for you.
[Enter REILLY]
I want you to meet Sir Henry Harcourt-Reilly —
EDWARD. We’re delighted to see him. But we have met before.
JULIA. Then if you know him already, you won’t be afraid of him.
You know, I was afraid of him at first:
He looks so forbidding …
REILLY. My dear Julia,
You are giving me a very bad introduction —
Supposing that an introduction was necessary.
JULIA. My dear Henry, you are interrupting me.
LAVINIA. If you can interrupt Julia, Sir Henry,
You are the perfect guest we’ve been waiting for.
REILLY. I should not dream of trying to interrupt Julia …
JULIA. But you’re both interrupting!
REILLY. Who is interrupting now?
JULIA. Well, you shouldn’t interrupt my interruptions:
That’s really worse than interrupting.
Now my head’s fairly spinning. I must have a cocktail.
EDWARD. [To REILLY]. And will you have a cocktail?
REILLY. Might I have a glass of water?
EDWARD. Anything with it?
REILLY. Nothing, thank you.
LAVINIA. May I introduce Mr. Peter Quilpe?
Sir Henry Harcourt-Reilly. Peter’s an old friend
Of my husband and myself. Oh, I forgot —
[Turning to ALEX]
I rather assumed that you knew each other —
I don’t know why I should. Mr. MacColgie Gibbs.
ALEX. Indeed, yes, we have met.
REILLY. On several commissions.
JULIA. We’ve been having such an interesting conversation.
Peter’s just over from California
Where he’s something very important in films.
He’s making a film of English life
And he’s going to find parts for all of us. Think of it!
PETER. But, Julia, I was just about to explain —
I’m afraid I can’t find parts for anybody
In this film — it’s not my business;
And that’s not the way we do it.
JULIA. But, Peter;
If you’re taking Boltwell to California
Why can’t you take me?
PETER. We’re not taking Boltwell.
We reconstruct a Boltwell.
JULIA. Very well, then:
Why not reconstruct me? It’s very much cheaper.
Oh, dear, I can see you’re determined not to have me:
So good-bye to my hopes of seeing California.
PETER. You know you’d never come if we invited you.
But there’s someone I wanted to ask about,
Who did really want to get into films,
And I always thought she could make a success of it
If she only got the chance. It’s Celia Coplestone.
She always wanted to. And now I could help her.
I’ve already spoken to Bela about her,
And I want to introduce her to our casting director.
I’ve got an idea for another film.
Can you tell me where she is? I couldn’t find her
In the telephone directory.
JULIA. Not in the directory,
Or in any directory. You can tell them now, Alex.
LAVINIA. What does Julia mean?
ALEX. I was about to speak of her
When you came in, Peter. I’m afraid you can’t have Celia.
PETER. Oh … Is she married?
ALEX. Not married, but dead.
LAVINIA. Celia?
ALEX. Dead.
PETER. Dead. That knocks the bottom out of it.
EDWARD. Celia dead.
JULIA. You had better tell them, Alex,
The news that you bring back from Kinkanja.
LAVINIA. Kinkanja? What was Celia doing in Kinkanja?
We heard that she had joined some nursing order …
ALEX. She had joined an order. A very austere one.
And as she already had experience of nursing …
LAVINIA. Yes, she had been a V.A.D. I remember.
ALEX. She was directed to Kinkanja,
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
&n
bsp; 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 tend 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.
The Complete Poems and Plays of T. S. Eliot Page 37