The Family Reunion

by T. S. Eliot

  When there’s nothing to do but take the bull by the horns,

  And this is one.

  [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.

  [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.

  [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.

  [Exeunt, except AGATHA.]

  Scene II

  AGATHA

  [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 the principal

  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.

  [Exit.]

  MARY

  So you will not help me!

  Waiting, waiting, always waiting.

  I think this house means to keep us waiting.

  [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.

&n
bsp; 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,