When we come to the denarius itself, I’m afraid verisimilitude must give way to dramatic necessity. We simply cannot hold up the action while the chap pops round the corner to borrow half-a-crown, leaving Jesus to entertain the audience with patter, like a conjurer waiting for his props.4 We must just carry on and hope the purists won’t notice. (There was once a purist who objected, in much the same way, about Zeal of Thy House, saying that the Prior ought not to have heard William of Sens’ confession till he had said, “Excuse me a moment”, and run off to the Cathedral to fetch his stole. I replied on that occasion that, quite apart from the tedium for the audience of waiting while his aged limbs carried him there and back, the delay would have caused the reluctant penitent to go off the boil, and that in dealing with a sinner as tough as William, the only way was to make a sharp and unceremonious grab at his soul the moment it poked its head out, without bothering to observe ecclesiastical Queensberry rules!)…
A correspondent begs me to go on and dramatise the Acts of the Apostles. After that, I suppose it will be the Early Fathers, the Schoolmen, the Reformers, and the Missionary Activities of the S.P.G.5 Will no one deliver me from the body of this death?
Yours in the expectation of Judgement,
[Dorothy]
1 They had now advanced to the use of Christian names.
2 Lord’s Day Observance Society.
3 C.R. stands for the Community of the Resurrection, also known as the Mirfield Fathers, an Anglican religious community in Yorkshire.
4 The reference is to Matthew, chapter 22, verses 17–21: “Tell us therefore, What thinkest thou? Is it lawful to give tribute unto Caesar, or not?… [Jesus answers] Shew me the tribute money. And they brought unto him a penny.” In the Vulgate these last words are, “At illi obtulerunt ei denarium”, the implication being that the denarius had to be fetched from somewhere.
5 Society for the Propagation of the Gospel.
[24 Newland Street
Witham
Essex]
TO MAYNARD D. FOLLIN1
23 July 1942
Dear Sir,
Thank you for your letter, and for the elegant stamps adorning it, which my husband immediately seized upon with loud cries of delight.
As for the frivolity of my Trinitarian book2 – never, I beg you, be led into imagining that the English take a thing less seriously because they handle it lightly. We may “take our pleasures sadly”, but we make up for it by taking our real interests cheerfully. Misunderstanding of this simple fact is at the root of half the accusation of hypocrisy levelled against us by those more sober-minded nations who habitually express themselves in correct and appropriate attitudes. In Strictly Personal, Somerset Maugham3 tells us that the French were affronted because the British troops marched to the strains of the “Lambeth Walk”,4 instead of to something dignified about death and glory. “These men”, he told them, “will die for you; but they will do it with a joke – probably a bad one – on their lips.” The French did not believe him; they are now experiencing the Germans, who do not joke on serious subjects.
From this national tendency to ill-timed hilarity the scientists are, perhaps, the most free – particularly, of course, sociologists and psychologists, who are strongly continentalised. But biologists also, in their degree, are earnest and sensitive, and the Mendelian limerick5 distresses them. It is true that the colourful results alluded to would not appear till the second generation; it is also true, that, had the offspring in fact been only four in number, the colours would probably not have been distributed with so engaging a symmetry, though in a generation of four hundred the proportions would no doubt be approximately correct. In future editions I shall label the thing in large letters: THIS IS A JOKE – for it is just about as serious as that other famous limerick on the Trinity, which, though expressed in French is (as the rhyme shows) “British-made”, and which British theologians relish:
Il était un jeune homme de Dijon
Qui aimait beaucoup la religion;
Il disait, “Ma foi!
J’adore tous les trois,
Et le Père et le Fils et le Pigeon”.6
No – I shall not write a book about the Scriptural sanction for the doctrine of the Trinity. Why should I? The thing was hammered out six hundred hears ago at Nicaea, by men who were fifty times greater sticklers for Biblical authority than any one living today. It has since been dealt with by qualified theologians in scholarly works to which I could add nothing of weight. There is no point in doing badly what competent persons have already done well. And any discussion of the sort would have been quite out of place in The Mind of the Maker, which, as I hoped I had made clear in the introduction, is not a work of Christian apologetic, but an examination of that particular doctrine in its application to creative mind. The origin of the doctrine is outside my terms of reference; my only concern is to show how far it is true in a particular case. About that particular case I may claim to speak with some “authority” not because I was educated at Oxford, but because I am a writer – i.e. because I have direct experience of mind in the [act] of creation. My Oxford training is only some sort of guarantee that I know (or ought to know) the way to handle a subject – as, for example, that I should not step outside my terms of reference.
“Thus saith the Lord” is, therefore, not within my terms of reference at all. But since you demand Scriptural warrant for everything, where is your Scriptural authority for the Scriptures themselves? On what texts do you rely for the make-up of the Canon as we have it? Where, for example, does the Lord say that there are to be those four Gospels and no more? or that the Revelation of Peter7 and The Shepherd of Hermas8 are not authoritative – though the first was read in churches as early as the second century, and the second was included in the Codex Sinaiticus9 as late as the fourth century? The doctrine of the Trinity was worked out and formulated in the Church – the same Church that is the authority for the Canon itself. If you want to see how, as a matter of historical fact, the Trinitarian formula was arrived at, read Prestige’s God in Patristic Thought10 (you will find it toughish). Or if you want to see how a contemporary Congregationalist arrives at it (by studying the Canon and using his brains) read J. S. Whale’s Christian Doctrine11 (which is easier going).
Finally, let me hasten to assure you that I do not belong to any “Anglican Group”. I am a member of the Church of England, but owe no allegiance to any group, clique, caucus within the Anglican Communion.
Yours faithfully,
[Dorothy L. Sayers]
1 A correspondent in Detroit, Michigan; identity unknown.
2 The Mind of the Maker.
3 Somerset Maugham (1874 1965), novelist, short-story writer and playwright. Strictly Personal, expressing his views on life and art, was published in 1942.
4 The best known tune of the popular show Me and My Girl, starring Lupino Lane.
5 Quoted in The Mind of the Maker, Methuen, p. 4, note 1: “There was a young lady named Starkie, Who had an affair with a darkie; The result of her sins Was quadruplets, not twins, One black and one white and two khaki.”
6 There was a young person of Dijon, Who dearly revered his religion. He said. “As for me I adore them all three, the Father, the Son and the Pigeon”.
7 The Apocalypse of Peter, dating from the early second century, accounted Scripture by Clement of Alexandria.
8 Hermas, accounted one of the Apostolic Fathers, was the author of The Shepherd, a text consisting of Visions, Mandates and Similitudes.
9 The manuscript of the Greek Bible, discovered in the monastery of St Catherine on Mount Sinai, now in the British Museum. It contains part of The Shepherd of Hermas.
10 George Leonard Prestige, God in Patristic Thought (1936). He also wrote Fathers and Heretics (1940).
11 See letter to Michael de la Bedoyère, 7 October 1941, note 12.
[24 Newland Street
Witham
Essex]
TO MISS DOROTHY M. E. DAWSON1
5 August 1942
Dear Miss Dawson,
Thank you very much for your letter, I am glad you like my two books.
With regard to the general attitude of women, I agree with practically everything you say – except the suggestion that I should head a Women’s Crusade! For one thing, I have no time to take on a new job of this kind; and for another, I am the wrong person to do it. I belong to a profession in which women suffer from no inferiority; and when that is the case, the best proof one can give of the equality of the sexes is to stay where one is and do one’s work, taking that equality for granted. To get up on an openly feminist platform would be, in a sense, to admit inferiority and throw away all the advantage gained. I do occasionally draw attention to the fact that society in general and the Church in particular will have to cope with this particular aspect of social justice; but actually, my own work is my best argument, since it is quietly accepted, not as woman’s work, but simply as work – which is the point to which our aims are directed. That is why I think it is a mistake to talk about “replacing” the masculine conception of this and that by a feminine one. That would be mere aggression on the part of the female! What is wanted is a merely “human” approach to every question, with neither sex trying to force the other under any sort of domination.
Yours very truly,
[Dorothy L. Sayers]
1 Identity unknown.
[24 Newland Street
Witham
Essex]
TO VAL GIELGUD
18 August 1942
Dear Val,
I had an awful sort of feeling that my reminder about the tune for the song in “Princes of This World”1 hadn’t registered! I hope I made myself clear to Miss Eaves (was it Miss Eaves?) on the phone; I want just a plain straightforward tune – nothing oriental or antiquarian – and rather jolly; and it must be sung rough, like soldiers singing in a canteen. It would, of course, be much best if sung “live” in the studio, so that it could be interrupted naturally by the arrival of the message from Pilate. But that I leave to you.
To my horror, your young lady was under the impression that “Lalage” was a kind of “tra-la-la”. I shouted the correct pronunciation over the phone – but in case the composer should share the same delusion, would you see that it is made clear to him that it is a girl’s name, and is accented on the ante-penultimate, as:
There was a young lady called Lalage
Who took her degree in metallurgy
She received her first-class
With a forehead of brass –
But only by way of analogy.
I have finished the Crucifixion – except in cutting and polishing. It is pretty brutal and full of bad language, but you can’t expect crucified robbers to talk like a Sunday-school class. The Archbishop will probably fall dead and all the parents will complain. The children won’t mind – they like blood and tortures and Miss Barber says that the vocabulary of her Hampstead youngsters among themselves is enough to startle anybody – and the Elementaries are probably worse – but the adults always delude themselves with visions of childish innocence and sweetness. Mr. McCulloch will swoon away. Perhaps it is as well that the script will have to be passed in a hurry!
Yours ever,
[D. L. S.]
1 The 10th play.
[24 Newland Street
Witham
Essex]
TO VAL GIELGUD
22 September 1942
Dear Val,
I’ve just had a very nice letter from the poor dear Archbishop of York (who, after all, has suffered many things) thanking me for writing the plays and saying a lot of kind things about them. After apologising in the most friendly way for having sometimes had to ask for alterations, he says: “I should like to add how greatly moved I was at listening yesterday to the Crucifixion play. I shall be very interested to see if I have any letters about it”.1 So he did take the trouble to hear it after all, and if the performance moved him, that is a big tribute to you and the company, because I gather he didn’t much like the script when he read it. (For which I didn’t altogether blame him.) Also, he seems prepared to stand the racket (if any) like a man, bless his heart. So it looks as though all was well in that quarter. He’s not a had old stick, really.
I was most awfully proud of the company – they worked like absolute heros, and the crowd-work was just about as good as it could be. I’m afraid I did land you an awful packet this time. But it’s no good going on apologising for that – I always do it! (They will write on your tombstone: “Here lies a chaser who never refused a fence”!) I hope I said thank you properly, but I was rather dazed, and when I got out and found a taxi, I couldn’t remember what road the house was in, and said Maida Vale when I meant St. John’s Wood. I don’t know why I should have come over so stupid – I hadn’t been doing any of the work.
I am deprived this time of Miss Barber’s comments, because she had to go and look after a sick friend and get her to hospital, and couldn’t listen in. But her school-children listened, and reported that they had just sat together and cried all the time. I hope it doesn’t haunt them, or anything! But they are fairly toughish youngsters, I gather. According to the news, Hitler has recently chosen to crucify fifty people in Jugo-Slavia, or at any rate string them up on stakes, which is much the same thing. So we haven’t got very far in close on 2000 years. And it’s just as well people should know that Christianity deals with that kind of thing, and not with merely deprecating the pleasanter sins and urging people to go to church. I mean, whether anybody believes in it or not, it’s got to be reckoned as belonging to that kind of situation and not exclusively to Little Puddlecombe vestry-meeting.
Dr. Welch seems to think that our party will go through all right. I do hope we shall be able to get together as many of the scattered people as possible. There are so many of them I haven’t thanked properly, and I want to most frightfully. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a devoted and enthusiastic bunch of people to work with – not even in Zeal, and there they did at least get their names on the play-bills.2 I’ve written a line to John Laurie3, by the way, whom I somehow missed altogether on Sunday. I think I managed to say something to most of the others, either individually or collectively. I thought Hermione Gingold4 did uncommonly well – though I’m still furious with the man5 who wrote that silly tune – she got hold of the idea and played it with very real sincerity, I thought. And Jonathan Field’s6 was a lovely performance – I didn’t want an inflection different.…
Bless you, dear, and thank you again.
Yours ever,
[D. L. S.]
1 The Archbishop added: “During the first months of your plays I had a stream of letters all on the critical side, most of them quite unreasonable and many very abusive, but these have almost entirely died away during these last months.” (Letter dated 21 September 1942)
2 At the time of the broadcasts, all the actors were anonymous, except for Robert Speaight, who played the part of Christ. It was thought best to make his name known to put an end to inquisitive speculation. The casts are printed in full in the published version of the plays.
3 John Laurie (1897–1980) played the part of Gestas; he later played in Dad’s Army.
4 Hermione Gingold (1897–1987) played the part of Mary Magdalen.
5 Benjamin Britten!
6 Jonathan Field (b. 1912), author, director, composer: played the part of Dysmas.
24 Newland Street
Witham,
Essex
TO MARJORIE BARBER
22 September 1942
Dearest Bar,
What a shame!1 Never mind – we’ll hope there will be a re-play one of these days. Anyhow, I greatly rejoice in the determined enthusiasm of Liquorice-All-Sorts and Co., and I’m glad they enjoyed it.
We had an awful time with rehearsals. Everything seemed to go wrong – it was one of those days. Claudia’s Dream had been done badly (owing to my not being there to explain just what I
wanted!) and the ASS2 who set the song disregarded all my instructions, and not only set it in ¾ time instead of march time, but had the vile impertinence to alter my lines because they wouldn’t fit his tune. I threw my one and only fit of temperament, and we sang the thing in march-time and restored the line, but it wasn’t a good tune anyway! Half the principals seemed to be missing on Saturday, and on Sunday Val lost his tobacco pouch! And poor Hermione Gingold had great difficulty with Magdalen – but in the end she was quite good. And the play did run too long – so we had eventually to cut the second little scene with the Romans (the one about the Hippocratic death-countenance) but it didn’t matter much, and as a matter of fact the man playing Glaucus was not very good, so in the end we were probably better without it. But it was a trying two days – oh, yes! and we had to modify one or two bits that the Archbishop jibbed at (I don’t blame him) – altogether, everything was hot, agitated and under-rehearsed.
Having said all that, I will say that the company played up simply nobly. My God! I’ve never heard anything like the crowd.… They were in a crucifying mood, and upon my word, they frightened me. Yes, Bobbie3 was grand – and I do wish you had heard John Laurie4 as Gestas and Jonathan Field5 as Dysmas. John Laurie was simply terrifying – I have never heard anything that sounded so like somebody being crucified, the passion he put into it scared the people on the floor stiff – they said it was quite frightening to play with him. And Jonathan Field got that difficult Dysmas speech perfectly – I couldn’t have asked for anything better. I was very glad I put in the Balthazar bit at the end; Robert Adams’s6 lovely rich voice seemed to bring it all back into the realm of the mystical and fold it up and put it to bed in the right spirit. We were unfortunate in not having our usual Proclus – he was doing some other show – but the man7 who took his part made quite a nice job of it.
The Letters of Dorothy L. Sayers. Vol. 1 Page 47
