by Dan Laurence
PROLA. Perhaps he is weak with hunger.
THE CLERGYMAN. No: it’s not that. I have been under a great strain for a long time; and now that I have escaped – and the beauty of those four – and your lovely awfulness – and – oh [collapsing on the stone seat] I am making a fool of myself. I always make a fool of myself. Dont mind me.
PRA. He thinks he has been chaplain in a pirate ship.
THE CLERGYMAN [rising in desperate protest] But I have. I have. They kidnapped me at Weston Super Mare where I was doing locum tenens for the Rector of Saint Biddulphs. It was on a Sunday afternoon: I had my clerical clothes on after taking the afternoon service. ‘You look so innocent and respectable’ they said. ‘Just what we want!’ They took me all over the world, where I couldnt speak the language and couldnt explain.
PRA. And they wanted you to minister to them spiritually?
THE CLERGYMAN. No no: that was what was so dreadful. They were crooks, racketeers, smugglers, pirates, anything that paid them. They used me to make people believe that they were respectable. They were often so bored that they made me hold a service and preach; but it was only to make themselves ill laughing at me. Though perhaps I shouldnt say that. Some of them were such dear nice fellows: they assured me it did them no end of good. But they got tired of me and put me ashore here. [He again resorts to the stone seat, clasping his temples distractedly] Oh dear! oh dear! nothing ever happens to me that happens to other people. And all because I was not a natural baby. I was a nitrogen baby.
PROLA. A nitrogen baby!
PRA [to Prola] Steady. There may be something in this. [He goes to the clergyman and sits down beside him] What do you mean by a nitrogen baby?
THE CLERGYMAN. You see, my father is a famous biological chemist.
PROLA. I do not see. Your father may be a biological chemist; but biological chemists’ children are like other people’s children.
THE CLERGYMAN. No. No, I assure you. Not my father’s children. You dont know my father. Even my Christian name is Phosphor.
PRA. Is what?
THE CLERGYMAN. Phosphor. [He spells it] P.H.O.S.P.H.O.R. The name of the morning star. Phosphorus, you know. The stuff they make matches with. Such a name to baptize a boy by! Please dont call me by it.
PRA. Come come! Neither your father nor your godfathers and godmothers could change your human nature by giving you an unusual name in baptism.
THE CLERGYMAN. But it wasnt only the name. My father fed our cow on nitrogen grass.
PRA. Nitrogen gas, you mean.
THE CLERGYMAN. No: nitrogen grass. Some sort of grass that came up when he sprinkled our fields with chemicals. The cows ate it; and their butter was very yellow and awfully rich. So was the milk. I was fed on that sort of milk and butter. And the wheat in my bread was grown from special nitrates that my father made.
PRA [to Prola] I believe he is not mad after all.
THE CLERGYMAN. I assure you I am not. I am weak minded; but I am not mad.
PRA. I have read some very interesting articles about this by an English chemist named Hammingtap.
THE CLERGYMAN. Thats my father. My name is Hammingtap. The old family name is Hummingtop; but my grandfather changed it when he was at Oxford.
PRA. Prola: our young friend here may really be a new sort of man. Shall we go in and tell the others about him? We might take him into the family for a while, as an experiment.
THE CLERGYMAN [alarmed] Oh please, no. Why does everyone want to make an experiment of me?
PROLA. All men and women are experiments. What is your religion?
THE CLERGYMAN. The Christian religion, of course. I am a clergyman.
PROLA. What is the Christian religion?
THE CLERGYMAN. Well, it is – well, I suppose it is the Christian religion. I thought everybody knew. But then of course you are a heathen.
PROLA. What does the Christian religion mean to you?
THE CLERGYMAN. Oh, to me it means everything that is good and lovely and kind and holy. I dont profess to go any further than that.
PROLA. You need not. You had better not. Wait here until we return. We may find some use for you. Come, Pra.
She goes up the steps into the house, followed by Pra. The Clergyman, left with the four figures, looks at them, looks round to make sure that nobody is watching. Then he steals up to the fair goddess.
THE CLERGYMAN. Oh, how lovely you are! How I wish you were alive and I could kiss your living lips instead of the paint on a hard wooden image. I wonder is it idolatry to adore you? St Peter in Rome is only a bronze image; but his feet have been worn away by the kisses of Christian pilgrims. You make me feel as I have never felt before. I must kiss you. [He does so and finds that she is alive. She smiles as her eyes turn bewitchingly towards him]. Oh!!! [He stands gasping, palpitating].
THE ELDER YOUTH. Beware.
THE YOUNGER. On guard.
THE FAIR GIRL. Let him worship. His lips are sweet and pure.
THE DARK ONE. ‘For he on honey dew hath fed’ –
THE FAIR ONE. – ‘and drunk the milk of paradise.’
THE DARK ONE. I, Vashti, can see his aura. It is violet.
THE FAIR ONE. I, Maya, can see his halo. It is silvery.
VASHTI. Blessed are the shining ones!
MAYA. Blessed are the simple ones!
THE ELDER YOUTH. Beware. I, Janga, warn thee.
THE YOUNGER YOUTH. On guard. I, Kanchin, shew thee the red light.
JANGA. Their eyebrows are drawn bows.
KANCHIN. Their arrows feel sweet in the heart –
JANGA. – but are deadly.
KANCHIN. The ground within reach of their arms is enchanted.
JANGA. Vashti is lovely even to her brothers.
KANCHIN. Little children would die for Maya.
JANGA. Beware.
KANCHIN. On guard.
JANGA. Trust them not.
KANCHIN. They will break thy spear.
JANGA. They will pierce thy shield.
VASHTI. Fear not, beginner: I will strengthen thee.
MAYA. Strive not, beloved: I will keep thy soul for thee.
THE 2 YOUTHS [together, fortissimo] Beware.
The two girl-goddesses suddenly and simultaneously spring from their shrines and march down upon him, Vashti to his left, Maya to his right.
VASHTI. Dare you tread the plains of heaven with us, young pilgrim?
MAYA. We are waves of life in a sea of bliss. Dare you breast them, young swimmer?
THE CLERGYMAN. Oh, I dont know whether you are gods and goddesses or real people. I only know that you fill my heart with inexpressible longings.
MAYA. We are the awakening.
VASHTI. We are the way.
MAYA. We are the life.
VASHTI. I am the light. Look at me. [She throws her arm round him and turns his face to hers].
MAYA. I am the fire. Feel how it glows [She also throws her arm round him].
Lady Farwaters comes from the house, and pauses at the top of the steps to take in what is going on.
THE CLERGYMAN. Oh, one at a time, please.
VASHTI. Perfect love casteth out choice.
MAYA. In love there is neither division nor measure.
LADY FARWATERS [rushing to him and dragging him away from them] Stop it, children: you are driving the man mad. Go away, all of you.
The two youths spring from their pedestals and whirl the girls away through the shrubberies.
VASHTI [invisible, calling] I will return in dreams.
MAYA [similarly] I leave my arrow in your heart.
LADY FARWATERS. You mustnt mind them.
Prola and Pra come down the steps, followed by Sir Charles Farwaters and by Hugo Hyering C.B. and Mrs Hyering. Hyering is the former emigration officer, now an elderly and very different man, disciplined, responsible and well groomed. His wife is the emigrant girl twenty years older and better drilled socially, but still very much her old self. Lady Farwaters, once a gaunt and affected tourist
visiting cave temples and distributing tracts to the heathen, is now a bland and attractive matron.
PRA. Mr Hammingtap: let me introduce you to the Governor of the Unexpected Isles, Sir Charles Farwaters.
SIR CHARLES [offering his hand] How do you do, Mr Hammingtap?
THE CLERGYMAN [jerkily nervous] Very pleased. [They shake hands].
Sir Charles sits down in the middle of the stone seat nearest the steps.
PRA. Lady Farwaters.
LADY FARWATERS [smiles and proffers her hand]!
THE CLERGYMAN. Most kind – er. [He shakes].
Lady Farwaters sits down in the middle of the other stone seat.
PRA. This is Mr Hugo Hyering, political secretary to the Isles.
THE CLERGYMAN. How do you do, Sir Hugo?
HYERING [shaking hands] Not Sir Hugo. [Introducing] Mrs. Hyering.
MRS HYERING [shaking hands] C.B., in case you are addressing a letter. [She sits down on Sir Charles’s left].
THE CLERGYMAN. Oh, I am so sorry.
HYERING. Not at all. [He sits on Lady Farwaters’ right].
PRA [indicating the parapet of the well] You had better sit here.
THE CLERGYMAN [sitting down as directed] Thank you.
Prola sits down on Sir Charles’s left, and Pra on Lady Farwaters’ left.
LADY FARWATERS. You have made the acquaintance of our four children, Mr Hammingtap?
THE CLERGYMAN. I couldnt help it. I mean –
PROLA. We know what you mean. You need not explain.
THE CLERGYMAN. But I assure you I – that is –
MRS HYERING. Dont apologize, Mr Hammingtap. We know quite well what our daughters are capable of when they are attracted by a young stranger.
THE CLERGYMAN. I did not understand. They are so sunburnt, and their dresses are so eastern: I thought they were orientals.
SIR CHARLES. They are half orientals. You see, the family is a mixed one. This lady, whom you may address as Prola, and this gentleman, known as Pra, are both entirely oriental, and very dominant personalities at that; so that naturally our children would have a strong oriental strain, would they not?
THE CLERGYMAN [hastily] Oh, of course. Quite. Certainly. [He looks piteously at their gracious unconcerned faces, which tell him nothing]. I beg your pardon. I am frightfully sorry; but my nerves are in rags; and I cannot follow what you are saying.
HYERING. Oh yes you can. It’s all right: you have understood perfectly.
MRS HYERING. Buck up, Mr Hammingtap. Let life come to you.
LADY FARWATERS. Our family arrangements are not those usual in England. We are making a little domestic experiment –
THE CLERGYMAN. Oh, not an experiment, I hope. Chemical experiments are bad enough: I am one myself; but they are scientific. I dont think I could countenance a domestic experiment. And in spite of what you say I am not sure that I am not going mad.
SIR CHARLES. We are distracting you. Let us change the subject. Would you like to be a bishop?
THE CLERGYMAN. Oh dear! Can you make me one?
SIR CHARLES. Well, my recommendation would probably be decisive. A bishop is needed here: a bishop in partibus infidelium. Providence seems to have thrown you on this shore for the purpose, like Jonah. Will you undertake it?
THE CLERGYMAN. I should like to have a bishop’s salary, certainly. But unfortunately I am weakminded.
SIR CHARLES. Many bishops are; and they are the best sort. A strongminded bishop is a horror.
THE CLERGYMAN. I am too young.
SIR CHARLES. You will not remain so. Most bishops are too old.
THE CLERGYMAN [templed] It would be rather a lark, wouldnt it?
MRS HYERING. Thats right, Mr Hammingtap: let life come to you.
PRA. What objection have you to be a bishop?
THE CLERGYMAN. Oh, none, I assure you. Of course no clergyman could object to be a bishop. But why do you want to make me one?
SIR CHARLES. I will be quite frank with you, Mr Hammingtap. Twenty years ago my wife and I, with Mr and Mrs Hyering, joined this eastern gentleman and his colleague in a eugenic experiment. Its object was to try out the result of a biological blend of the flesh and spirit of the west with the flesh and spirit of the east. We formed a family of six parents.
THE CLERGYMAN. Six?
SIR CHARLES. Yes, six. The result has been a little disappointing from the point of view of numbers; but we have produced four children, two of each sex, and educated them in the most enlightened manner we were capable of. They have now grown up; consequently the time has arrived when the family group must be extended by young persons of their own age, so that the group may produce a second generation. Now sooner or later this extension of the family group will set people talking.
THE CLERGYMAN. It would strike my people dumb, if I grasp your meaning rightly.
SIR CHARLES. You do. I mean exactly what I say. There will be a struggle with public opinion in the empire. We shall not shirk it: it is part of our plan to open people’s minds on the subject of eugenics and the need for mixing not only western and eastern culture but eastern and western blood. Still, we do not want to be stopped, as the Mormons were, or as the Oneida Community would have been if it had not voluntarily broken up. We want to set the intelligent people talking, and to strike the stupid people dumb. And we think we could do both by adding a bishop to the family.
MRS HYERING. And that is where you come in, young man.
PRA. There is another consideration that weighs with us: at least with me. I am convinced that there is something lacking in the constitution of the children. It may be a deficiency of nitrogen. It certainly is a deficiency of something that is essential to a complete social human being.
THE CLERGYMAN. Oh, I cannot believe that. They seemed to me to be quite perfect. I cannot imagine anyone more perfect than Maya.
PRA. Well, what did you think of Maya’s conscience, for example?
THE CLERGYMAN [bewildered] Her conscience? I suppose – I dont know – I –
PRA. Precisely. You dont know. Well, we do know. Our four wonderful children have all sorts of talents, all sorts of accomplishments, all sorts of charms. And we are heartily tired of all their attractions because, though they have artistic consciences, and would die rather than do anything ugly or vulgar or common, they have not between the whole four of them a scrap of moral conscience. They have been very carefully fed: all the vitamins that the biological chemists have discovered are provided in their diet. All their glands are scientifically nourished. Their physical health is perfect. Unfortunately the biological chemists have not yet discovered either the gland that produces and regulates the moral conscience or the vitamins that nourish it. Have you a conscience, Mr Hammingtap?
THE CLERGYMAN. Oh yes: I wish I hadnt. It tortures me. You know, I should have enjoyed being a pirate’s chaplain sometimes if it hadnt been for my terrible conscience. It has made my life one long remorse; for I have never had the strength of mind to act up to it.
PRA. That suggests very strongly that the conscientious man is, chemically speaking, the nitrogenic man. Here, then, we have four young adults, insufficiently nitrogenized, and therefore deficient in conscience. Here also we have a young adult saturated with nitrogen from his cradle, and suffering from a morbid excess of conscience. A union between him and our girls is clearly indicated.
THE CLERGYMAN. You mean that I ought to marry one of them?
PRA. Not at all. They would regard that as an invidious proceeding.
THE CLERGYMAN. Invidious! I dont understand.
LADY FARWATERS [goodnaturedly] Let me try to break it to you, Mr Hammingtap. The two girls attract you very much, dont they?
THE CLERGYMAN. How can one help being attracted, Lady Farwaters? Theyre quite beautiful.
LADY FARWATERS. Both of them?
THE CLERGYMAN. Oh, as a clergyman I could not be attracted by more than one at a time. Still, somehow, I seem to love them all in an inexpressible sort of way. Only, if there were a
ny question of marriage, I should have to choose.
PROLA. And which would you choose?
THE CLERGYMAN. Oh, I should choose Maya.
PROLA. Maya would at once reject you.
THE CLERGYMAN [much dejected] I suppose so. I know I am no catch for Maya. Still, she was very kind to me. In fact – but perhaps I oughtnt to tell you this – she kissed me.
