The Complete Poems and Plays, 1909-1950

by T. S. Eliot

  She will come to you here. You will be here to meet her.

  [The doorbell rings]

  EDWARD. I must answer the door.

  [EDWARD goes to the door]

  So it’s you again, Julia!

  [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?

  [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.

  [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 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?

  [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 jac
ket 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!