Plays Extravagant

by Dan Laurence

  HYERING. Oh, an invention. We cant swallow those cherubs, really.

  SIR CHARLES [taking up a third paper] This sounds a little more plausible. ‘A representative of the Fascist Press has called at the War Office to ask whether any steps were being taken to defend the right of public meeting, and to deal with the angelic peril. The Commander-in-Chief, whilst denying that there is any such thing as a right of public meeting by undisciplined and irresponsible persons, declared that the Mansion House incident was quite incomprehensible to him, as he could not conceive how the only really practical part of the National Anthem could give any offence. Any suggestion that it was not the plain duty of the Ruler of the Universe to confound England’s enemies could only lead to widespread atheism. The First Lord of the Admiralty, interviewed last night, said that he could not make head or tail of the reports, but that he could assure the public that whatever had really happened, the British Navy would not take it lying down. Later. A Hyde Park orator was thrown into the Serpentine for saying that the British Empire was not the only pebble on the beach. He has been fined thirty shillings for being in unlawful possession of a life buoy, the property of the Royal Humane Society. There can be no doubt that the disparaging remarks and assumed superiority of the angels has started a wave of patriotism throughout the country which is bound to lead to action of some sort.’

  PRA. Which means, if it means anything, that England’s next war will be a war with heaven.

  PROLA. Nothing new in that. England has been at war with heaven for many a long year.

  VASHTI [inspired] The most splendid of all her wars!

  KANCHIN. The last conquest left to her to achieve!

  VASHTI. To overcome the angels!

  JANGA. To plant the flag of England on the ramparts of heaven itself! that is the final glory.

  PROLA. Oh go away, children: go away. Now that Maya has gone to kiss somebody, there is nothing left for you to glorify but suicide.

  VASHTI [rising] I rebel.

  JANGA [rising] We rebel against Prola, the goddess empress.

  KANCHIN [rising] Prola has turned back from the forlorn hope.

  VASHTI. Prola is a coward. She fears defeat and death.

  KANCHIN. Without death there can be no heroism.

  JANGA. Without faith unto death there can be no faith.

  VASHTI. Prola has failed us in the great Day of Judgment.

  KANCHIN. Our souls have been called to their final account.

  ALL THREE [marching away through the garden] Guilty, Prola: guilty. Adieu, Prola!

  PROLA. Oh, adieu until you want your tea.

  PRA. We have taught them everything except common sense.

  LADY FARWATERS. We have taught them everything except how to work for their daily bread instead of praying for it.

  PROLA. It is dangerous to educate fools.

  PRA. It is still more dangerous to leave them uneducated.

  MRS HYERING. There just shouldnt be any fools. They wernt born fools: we made fools of them.

  PRA. We must stop making fools.

  Iddy returns alone. Something strange has happened to him. He stares at them and tries to speak; but no sound comes from his lips.

  LADY FARWATERS. What on earth is the matter with you, Iddy? Have you been drinking?

  IDDY [in a ghastly voice] Maya.

  PROLA. What has happened to Maya?

  IDDY. Heaven and earth shall pass away; but I shall not pass away. That is what she said. And then there was nothing in my arms. Nothing. Nothing in my arms. Heaven and earth would pass away; but the love of Maya would never pass away. And there was nothing. [He collapses on the well parapet, overcome, not in tears but in a profound awe].

  PRA. Do you mean that she died in your arms?

  IDDY. Died? No. I tell you there was nothing. Dont you understand? Where she had just been there was nothing. There never had been anything.

  PROLA. And the others? Quick, Pra: go and find the others.

  PRA. What others?

  PROLA. The other three: our children. I forget their names.

  IDDY. They said ‘Our names shall live forever.’ What were their names?

  HYERING. They have gone clean out of my head.

  SIR CHARLES. Most extraordinary. I cant for the life of me remember. How many of them did you say there were, Prola?

  PROLA. Four. Or was it four hundred?

  IDDY. There were four. Their names were Love, Pride, Heroism and Empire. Love’s pet name was Maya. I loved Maya. I loved them all; but it was through love of Maya that I loved them. I held Maya in my arms. She promised to endure for ever; and suddenly there was nothing in my arms. I have searched for the others; but she and they were one: I found nothing. It is the Judgment.

  PROLA. Has she left a great void in your heart, Iddy, that girl who turned to nothing in your arms?

  IDDY. No. This is a beautiful climate; and you are beautiful people; but you are not real to me; and the sun is not what it is in the valley of the Severn. I am glad I am an English clergyman. A village and a cottage: a garden and a church: these things will not turn to nothing. I shall be content with my little black coat and my little white collar and my little treasure of words spoken by my Lord Jesus. Blessed be the name of the Lord: I shall not forget it as I shall forget Maya’s. [He goes out seaward like a man in a trance].

  LADY FARWATERS [troubled, half rising] But, Iddy, –

  PROLA. Let him go. The pigeon knows its way home.

  Lady Farwaters sinks back into her seat. There is a moment of rather solemn silence. Then the telephone rings.

  PRA [taking up the receiver] Yes? … What? … Yes: amazing news: we know all about that. What is the latest? … Yes: ‘plot to destroy our most valuable citizens’: I got that; but what was the first word? What plot? … Oh, Russian plot. Rubbish! havnt you some sensible reports? … Special news broadcast just coming in? … Good: put me on to it. [To the others] I’m through to London Regional. Listen: I’ll repeat it as it comes. [He echoes the news] Extraordinary disappearances. Indescribable panic. Stock Exchange closes: only two members left. House of Commons decimated: only fourteen members to be found: none of Cabinet rank. House of Lords still musters fifty members; but not one of them has ever attended a meeting of the Chamber. Mayfair a desert: six hotels left without a single guest. Fresh disappearances. Crowded intercession service at Westminster Abbey brought to a close by disappearance of the congregation at such a rate that the rest fled leaving the dean preaching to the choir. At the Royal Institution Sir Ruthless Bonehead, Egregious Professor of Mechanistic Biology to the Rockefeller Foundation, drew a crowded audience to hear his address on ‘Whither have they gone?’ He disappeared as he opened his mouth to speak. Noted Cambridge professor suggests that what is happening is a weeding-out of nonentities. He has been deprived of his Chair; and The Times, in a leading article, points out that not only is it our most important people who are vanishing, but that it is the most unquestionably useful and popular professions that are most heavily attacked, the medical profession having disappeared almost en bloc, whilst the lawyers and clergy are comparatively immune. A situation of terrible suspense has been created everywhere. Happy husbands and fathers disappear from the family dinner with the soup. Several popular leaders of fashion and famous beauties, after ringing their bells for their maids, have been found non-existent when the bells were answered. More than a million persons have disappeared in the act of reading novels. The Morning Post contains an eloquent protest by Lady Gushing, president of the Titled Ladies’ League of Social Service, on the inequality of sacrifice as between the west end and the east, where casualties have been comparatively few. Lady Gushing has since disappeared. There is general agreement that our losses are irreparable, though their bad effects are as yet unfelt. But before long –

  HYERING. Whats the use of going on, Pra? The angels are weeding the garden. The useless people, the mischievous people, the selfish somebodies and the noisy nobodies, are dissolving into space, which
is the simplest form of matter. We here are awaiting our own doom.

  MRS HYERING. What was it the angel said?

  PROLA. The lives which have no use, no meaning, no purpose, will fade out. We shall have to justify our existences or perish. We shall live under a constant sense of that responsibility. If the angels fail us we shall set up tribunals of our own from which worthless people will not come out alive. When men no longer fear the judgment of God, they must learn to judge themselves.

  SIR CHARLES. I seem to remember somebody saying ‘Judge not, that ye be not judged.’

  PROLA. That means ‘Punish not, that ye be not punished.’ This is not punishment, but judgment.

  HYERING. What is judgment?

  PRA. Judgment is valuation. Civilizations live by their valuations. If the valuations are false, the civilization perishes as all the ancient ones we know of did. We are not being punished today: we are being valued. That is the Newest Dispensation.

  LADY FARWATERS. I feel an absolute conviction that I shall not disappear and that Charles will not disappear. We have done some queer things here in the east perhaps; but at bottom we are comfortable commonsense probable English people; and we shall not do anything so improbable as disappear.

  SIR CHARLES [to his wife] Do not tempt the angels, my dear. Remember: you used to distribute tracts before you met Pra.

  LADY FARWATERS. Ssh-sh-sh! Dont remind the angels of those tracts.

  HYERING [rising] Look here. I have an uneasy feeling that we’d better go back to our work. I feel pretty sure that we shant disappear as long as we’re doing something useful; but if we only sit here talking, either we shall disappear or the people who are listening to us will. What we have learnt here today is that the day of judgment is not the end of the world but the beginning of real human responsibility. Charles and I have still our duties: the Unexpected Isles have to be governed today just as they had to be yesterday. Sally: if you have given your orders for the housework today, go and cook something or sew something or tidy up the books. Come on, Charles. Lets get to work. [He goes into the house].

  SIR CHARLES [to his wife, rising] You might take a turn in the garden, dear: gardening is the only unquestionably useful job. [He follows Hyering into the house].

  LADY FARWATERS [rising] Prola: shall I bring you some knitting to occupy you?

  PROLA. No, thank you. I have some thinking to do.

  LADY FARWATERS. Well, dear: I hope that will count as work. I shall feel safer with my gardening basket. [She goes into the house].

  MRS HYERING. J’you think itll be all right if I go and do some crossword puzzles? It cultivates the mind so, dont you think?

  PROLA. Does it? Well, do the puzzles and see what will happen. Let life come to you. Goodbye.

  MRS HYERING [alarmed] Why do you say goodbye? Do you think I am going to disappear?

  PROLA. Possibly. Or possibly I may.

  MRS HYERING. Oh then for heaven’s sake dont do it in my presence. Wait til Ive gone.

  She scuttles up the steps into the house, leaving Prola and Pra alone together.

  PRA. Tell me the truth, Prola. Are you waiting for me to disappear? Do you feel that you can do better without me? Have you always felt that you could do better without me?

  PROLA. That is a murderer’s thought. Have you ever let yourself think it? How often have you said to yourself ‘I could do better alone, or with another woman’?

  PRA. Fairly often, my dear, when we were younger. But I did not murder you. Thats the answer. And you?

  PROLA. All that stuff belongs to the past: to the childhood of our marriage. We have now grown together until we are each of us a part of the other. I no longer think of you as a separate possibility.

  PRA. I know. I am part of the furniture of your house. I am a matter of course. But was I always that? Was I that in the childhood of our marriage?

  PROLA. You are still young enough and manlike enough to ask mischievous questions.

  PRA. No matter: we shall both disappear presently; and I have still some curiosity left. Did you ever really care for me? I know I began as a passion and have ended as a habit, like all husbands; but outside that routine there is a life of the intellect that is quite independent of it. What have I been to you in that life? A help or a hindrance?

  PROLA. Pra: I always knew from the very beginning that you were an extraordinarily clever fool.

  PRA. Good. That is exactly what I am.

  PROLA. But I knew also that nobody but a fool would be frivolous enough to join me in doing all the mad things I wanted to do. And no ordinary fool would have been subtle enough to understand me, nor clever enough to keep off the rocks of social ruin. Ive grown fond enough of you for all practical purposes; –

  PRA. Thank you.

  PROLA. – but Ive never allowed you or any other man to cut me off my own stem and make me a parasite on his. That sort of love and sacrifice is not the consummation of a capable woman’s existence: it is the temptation she must resist at all costs.

  PRA. That temptation lies in the man’s path too. The worst sacrifices I have seen have been those of men’s highest careers to women’s vulgarities and follies.

  PROLA. Well, we two have no reproaches and no regrets on that score.

  PRA. No. We are awaiting judgment here quite simply as a union of a mad woman with a fool.

  PROLA. Who thought they had created four wonderful children. And who are now brought to judgment and convicted of having created nothing. We have only repeated the story of Helen and Faust and their beautiful child Euphorion. Euphorion also vanished, in his highest flight.

  PRA. Yes; but Helen was a dream. You are not a dream. The children did not vanish like Euphorion in their infancy. They grew up to bore me more intensely than I have ever been bored by any other set of human creatures. Come, confess: did they not bore you?

  PROLA. Have I denied it? Of course they bored me. They must have bored one another terribly in spite of all their dressing up and pretending that their fairyland was real. How they must have envied the gardener’s boy his high spirits!

  PRA. The coming race will not be like them. Meanwhile we are face to face with the fact that we two have made a precious mess of our job of producing the coming race by a mixture of east and west. We are failures. We shall disappear.

  PROLA. I do not feel like that. I feel like the leader of a cavalry charge whose horse has been shot through the head and dropped dead under him. Well, a dead hobby horse is not the end of the world. Remember: we are in the Unexpected Isles; and in the Unexpected Isles all plans fail. So much the better: plans are only jigsaw puzzles: one gets tired of them long before one can piece them together. There are still a million lives beyond all the Utopias and the Millenniums and the rest of the jigsaw puzzles: I am a woman and I know it. Let men despair and become cynics and pessimists because in the Unexpected Isles all their little plans fail: women will never let go their hold on life. We are not here to fulfil prophecies and fit ourselves into puzzles, but to wrestle with life as it comes. And it never comes as we expect it to come.

  PRA. It comes like a thief in the night.

  PROLA. Or like a lover. Never will Prola go back to the Country of the Expected.

  PRA. There is no Country of the Expected. The Unexpected Isles are the whole world.

  PROLA. Yes, if our fools only had vision enough to see that. I tell you this is a world of miracles, not of jigsaw puzzles. For me every day must have its miracle, and no child be born like any child that ever was born before. And to witness this miracle of the children I will abide the uttermost evil and carry through it the seed of the uttermost good.

  PRA. Then I, Pra, must continue to strive for more knowledge and more power, though the new knowledge always contradicts the old, and the new power is the destruction of the fools who misuse it.

  PROLA. We shall plan commonwealths when our empires have brought us to the brink of destruction; but our plans will still lead us to the Unexpected Isles. We shall make wars b
ecause only under the strain of war are we capable of changing the world; but the changes our wars will make will never be the changes we intended them to make. We shall clamor for security like frightened children; but in the Unexpected Isles there is no security; and the future is to those who prefer surprise and wonder to security. I, Prola, shall live and grow because surprise and wonder are the very breath of my being, and routine is death to me. Let every day be a day of wonder for me and I shall not fear the Day of Judgment. [She is interrupted by a roll of thunder]. Be silent: you cannot frighten Prola with stage thunder. The fountain of life is within me.