by T. S. Eliot
For all the weeks during which she had not seen us
Except at half-term, and seeing us then
Only seemed to make her more unhappy, and made us
Feel more guilty, and so we misbehaved
Next day at school, in order to be punished,
For punishment made us feel less guilty. Mother
Never punished us, but made us feel guilty.
I think that the things that are taken for granted
At home, make a deeper impression upon children
Than what they are told.
WARBURTON. Stop, Harry, you’re mistaken.
I mean, you don’t know what I want to tell you.
You may be quite right, but what we are concerned with
Now, is your mother’s happiness in the future,
For the time she has to live: not with the past.
HARRY. Oh, is there any difference!
How can we be concerned with the past
And not with the future? or with the future
And not with the past? What I’m telling you
Is very important. Very important.
You must let me explain, and then you can talk.
I don’t know why, but just this evening
I feel an overwhelming need for explanation —
But perhaps I only dream that I am talking
And shall wake to find that I have been silent
Or talked to the stone deaf: and the others
Seem to hear something else than what I am saying.
But if you want to talk, at least you can tell me
Something useful. Do you remember my father?
WARBURTON. Why, yes, of course, Harry, but I really don’t see
What that has to do with the present occasion
Or with what I have to tell you.
HARRY. What you have to tell me
Is either something that I know already
Or unimportant, or else untrue.
But I want to know more about my father.
I hardly remember him, and I know very well
That I was kept apart from him, till he went away.
We never heard him mentioned, but in some way or another
We felt that he was always here.
But when we would have grasped for him, there was only a vacuum
Surrounded by whispering aunts: Ivy and Violet —
Agatha never came then. Where was my father?
WARBURTON. Harry, there’s no good probing for misery.
There was enough once: but what festered
Then, has only left a cautery.
Leave it alone. You know that your mother
And your father were never very happy together:
They separated by mutual consent
And he went to live abroad. You were only a boy
When he died. You would not remember.
HARRY. But now I do remember. Not Arthur or John,
They were too young. But now I remember
A summer day of unusual heat,
The day I lost my butterfly net;
I remember the silence, and the hushed excitement
And the low conversation of triumphant aunts.
It is the conversations not overheard,
Not intended to be heard, with the sidewise looks,
That bring death into the heart of a child.
That was the day he died. Of course.
I mean, I suppose, the day on which the news arrived.
WARBURTON. You overinterpret.
I am sure that your mother always loved him;
There was never the slightest suspicion of scandal.
HARRY. Scandal? who said scandal? I did not.
Yes, I see now. That night, when she kissed me,
I felt the trap close. If you won’t tell me,
I must ask Agatha. I never dared before.
WARBURTON. I advise you strongly, not to ask your aunt —
I mean, there is nothing she could tell you. But, Harry,
We can’t sit here all the evening, you know;
You will have to have the birthday celebration,
And your brothers will be here. Won’t you let me tell you
What I had to say?
HARRY. Very well, tell me.
WARBURTON. It’s about your mother’s health that I wanted to talk to you.
I must tell you, Harry, that although your mother
Is still so alert, so vigorous of mind,
Although she seems as vital as ever —
It is only the force of her personality,
Her indomitable will, that keeps her alive.
I needn’t go into technicalities
At the present moment. The whole machine is weak
And running down. Her heart’s very feeble.
With care, and avoiding all excitement
She may live several years. A sudden shock
Might send her off at any moment.
If she had been another woman
She would not have lived until now.
Her determination has kept her going:
She has only lived for your return to Wishwood,
For you to take command at Wishwood,
And for that reason, it is most essential
That nothing should disturb or excite her.
HARRY. Well!
WARBURTON. I’m very sorry for you, Harry.
I should have liked to spare you this,
Just now. But there were two reasons
Why you had to know. One is your mother,
To make her happy for the time she has to live.
The other is yourself: the future of Wishwood
Depends on you. I don’t like to say this;
But you know that I am a very old friend,
And have always been a party to the family secrets —
You know as well as I do that Arthur and John
Have been a great disappointment to your mother.
John’s very steady — but he’s not exactly brilliant;
And Arthur has always been rather irresponsible.
Your mother’s hopes are all centred on you.
HARRY. Hopes? … Tell me
Did you know my father at about my present age?
WARBURTON. Why, yes, Harry, of course I did.
HARRY. What did he look like then? Did he look at all like me?
WARBURTON. Very much like you. Of course there are differences:
But, allowing for the changes in fashion
And your being clean-shaven, very much like you.
And now, Harry, let’s talk about yourself.
HARRY. I never saw a photograph. There is no portrait.
WARBURTON. What I want to know is, whether you’ve been sleeping …
[Enter DENMAN]
DENMAN. It’s Sergeant Winchell is here, my Lord,
And wants to see your Lordship very urgent,
And Dr. Warburton. He says it’s very urgent
Or he wouldn’t have troubled you.
HARRY. I’ll see him.
[Exit DENMAN]
WARBURTON. I wonder what he wants. I hope nothing has happened
To either of your brothers.
HARRY. Nothing can have happened
To either of my brothers. Nothing can happen —
If Sergeant Winchell is real. But Denman saw him.
But what if Denman saw him, and yet he was not real?
That would be worse than anything that has happened.
What if you saw him, and …
WARBURTON. Harry! Pull yourself together.
Something may have happened to one of your brothers.
[Enter WINCHELL]
WINCHELL. Good evening, my Lord. Good evening, Doctor.
Many happy … Oh, I’m sorry, my Lord,
I was thinking it was your birthday, not her Ladyship’s.
HARRY. Her Ladyship’s!
[He darts at WINCHELL and seizes him by the shoulders]<
br />
He is real, Doctor.
So let us resume the conversation. You, and I
And Winchell. Sit down, Winchell,
And have a glass of port. We were talking of my father.
WINCHELL. Always at your jokes, I see. You don’t look a year older
Than when I saw you last, my Lord. But a country sergeant
Doesn’t get younger. Thank you, no, my Lord;
I don’t find port agrees with the rheumatism.
WARBURTON. For God’s sake, Winchell, tell us your business.
His Lordship isn’t very well this evening.
WINCHELL. I understand, Sir.
It’d be the same if it was my birthday —
I beg pardon, I’m forgetting.
If it was my mother’s. God rest her soul,
She’s been dead these ten years. How is her Ladyship,
If I may ask, my Lord?
HARRY. Why do you keep asking
About her Ladyship? Do you know or don’t you?
I’m not afraid of you.
WINCHELL. I should hope not, my Lord.
I didn’t mean to put myself forward.
But you see, my Lord, I had good reason for asking …
HARRY. Well, do you want me to produce her for you?
WINCHELL. Oh no indeed, my Lord, I’d much rather not …
HARRY. You mean you think I can’t. But I might surprise you;
I think I might be able to give you a shock.
WINCHELL. There’s been shock enough for one evening, my Lord:
That’s what I’ve come about.
WARBURTON. For Heaven’s sake, Winchell,
Tell us your business.
WINCHELL. It’s about Mr. John.
HARRY. John!
WINCHELL. Yes, my Lord, I’m sorry.
I thought I’d better have a word with you quiet,
Rather than phone and perhaps disturb her Ladyship.
So I slipped along on my bike. Mostly walking,
What with the fog so thick, or I’d have been here sooner.
I’d telephoned to Dr. Warburton’s,
And they told me he was here, and that you’d arrived.
Mr. John’s had a bit of an accident
On the West Road, in the fog, coming along
At a pretty smart pace, I fancy, ran into a lorry
Drawn up round the bend. We’ll have the driver up for this:
Says he doesn’t know this part of the country
And stopped to take his bearings. We’ve got him at the Arms —
Mr. John, I mean. By a bit of luck
Dr. Owen was there, and looked him over;
Says there’s nothing wrong but some nasty cuts
And a bad concussion; says he’ll come round
In the morning, most likely, but he mustn’t be moved.
But Dr. Owen was anxious that you should have a look at him.
WARBURTON. Quite right, quite right. I’ll go and have a look at him.
We must explain to your mother …
AMY’S VOICE. Harry! Harry!
Who’s there with you? Is it Arthur or John?
[Enter AMY, followed severally by VIOLET, IVY, AGATHA, GERALD and CHARLES.]
Winchell! what are you here for?
WINCHELL. I’m sorry, my Lady, but I’ve just told the doctor,
It’s really nothing but a minor accident.
WARBURTON. It’s John has had the accident, Lady Monchensey;
And Winchell tells me Dr. Owen has seen him
And says it’s nothing but a slight concussion,
But he mustn’t be moved tonight. I’d trust Owen
On a matter like this. You can trust Owen.
We’ll bring him up tomorrow; and a few days’ rest,
I’ve no doubt, will be all that he needs.
AMY. Accident? What sort of an accident?
WINCHELL. Coming along in the fog, my Lady,
And he must have been in rather a hurry.
There was a lorry drawn up where it shouldn’t be,
Outside of the village, on the West Road.
AMY. Where is he?
WINCHELL. At the Arms, my Lady;
Of course, he hasn’t come round yet.
Dr. Owen was there, by a bit of luck.
GERALD. I’ll go down and see him, Amy, and come back and report to you.
AMY. I must see for myself. Order the car at once.
WARBURTON. I forbid it, Lady Monchensey.
As your doctor, I forbid you to leave the house tonight.
There is nothing you could do, and out in this weather
At this time of night, I would not answer for the consequences
I am going myself. I will come back and report to you.
AMY. I must see for myself. I do not believe you.
CHARLES. Much better leave it to Warburton, Amy.
Extremely fortunate for us that he’s here.
We must put ourselves under Warburton’s orders.
WARBURTON. I repeat, Lady Monchensey, that you must not go out.
If you do, I must decline to continue to treat you.
You are only delaying me. I shall return at once.
AMY. Well, I suppose you are right. But can I trust you?
WARBURTON. You have trusted me a good many years, Lady Monchensey;
This is not the time to begin to doubt me.
Come, Winchell. We can put your bicycle
On the back of my car.
[Exeunt WARBURTON and WINCHELL]
VIOLET. Well, Harry,
I think that you might have had something to say.
Aren’t you sorry for your brother? Aren’t you aware
Of what is going on? and what it means to your mother?
HARRY. Oh, of course I’m sorry. But from what Winchell says
I don’t think the matter can be very serious.
A minor trouble like a concussion
Cannot make very much difference to John.
A brief vacation from the kind of consciousness
That John enjoys, can’t make very much difference
To him or to anyone else. If he was ever really conscious,
I should be glad for him to have a breathing spell:
But John’s ordinary day isn’t much more than breathing.
IVY. Really, Harry! how can you be so callous?
I always thought you were so fond of John.
VIOLET. And if you don’t care what happens to John,
You might show some consideration to your mother.
AMY. I do not know very much:
And as I get older, I am coming to think
How little I have ever known.
But I think your remarks are much more inappropriate
Than Harry’s.
HARRY. It’s only when they see nothing
That people can always show the suitable emotions —
And so far as they feel at all, their emotions are suitable.
They don’t understand what it is to be awake,
To be living on several planes at once
Though one cannot speak with several voices at once.
I have all of the rightminded feeling about John
That you consider appropriate. Only, that’s not the language
That I choose to be talking. I will not talk yours.
AMY. You looked like your father
When you said that.
HARRY. I think, mother,
I shall make you lie down. You must be very tired.
[Exeunt HARRY and AMY]
VIOLET. I really do not understand Harry’s behaviour.
AGATHA. I think it is as well to leave Harry to establish
If he can, some communication with his mother.
VIOLET. I do not seem to be very popular tonight.
CHARLES. Well, there’s no sort of use in any of us going —
