by T. S. Eliot
HARRY
Oh, mother,
This is not to do with Agatha, any more than with the rest of you.
My advice has come from quite a different quarter,
But I cannot explain that to you now. Only be sure
That I know what I am doing, and what I must do,
And that it is the best thing for everybody.
But at present, I cannot explain it to anyone:
I do not know the words in which to explain it—
That is what makes it harder. You must just believe me,
Until I come again.
AMY
But why are you going?
HARRY
I can only speak
And you cannot hear me. I can only speak
So you may not think I conceal an explanation,
And to tell you that I would have liked to explain.
AMY
Why should Agatha know, and I not be allowed to?
HARRY
I do not know whether Agatha knows
Or how much she knows. Any knowledge she may have—
It was not I who told her . . . All this year,
This last year, I have been in flight
But always in ignorance of invisible pursuers.
Now I know that all my life has been a flight
And phantoms fed upon me while I fled. Now I know
That the last apparent refuge, the safe shelter,
That is where one meets them. That is the way of spectres . . .
AMY
There is no one here.
No one, but your family!
HARRY
And now I know
That my business is not to run away, but to pursue,
Not to avoid being found, but to seek.
I would not have chosen this way, had there been any other!
It is at once the hardest thing, and the only thing possible.
Now they will lead me. I shall be safe with them;
I am not safe here.
AMY
So you will run away.
AGATHA
In a world of fugitives
The person taking the opposite direction
Will appear to run away.
AMY
I was speaking to Harry.
It is very hard, when one has just recovered sanity,
And not yet assured in possession, that is when
One begins to seem the maddest to other people.
It is hard for you too, mother, it is indeed harder,
Not to understand.
AMY
Where are you going?
HARRY
I shall have to learn. That is still unsettled.
I have not yet had the precise directions.
Where does one go from a world of insanity?
Somewhere on the other side of despair.
To the worship in the desert, the thirst and deprivation,
A stony sanctuary and a primitive altar,
The heat of the sun and the icy vigil,
A care over lives of humble people,
The lesson of ignorance, of incurable diseases.
Such things are possible. It is love and terror
Of what waits and wants me, and will not
let me fall. Let the cricket chirp. John shall be the master.
All I have is his. No harm can come to him.
What would destroy me will be life for John,
I am responsible for him. Why I have this election
I do not understand. It must have been preparing always,
And I see it was what I always wanted. Strength demanded
That seems too much, is just strength enough given.
I must follow the bright angels.
[Exit.]
Scene III
AMY, AGATHA
AMY
I was a fool, to ask you again to Wishwood;
But I thought, thirty-five years is long, and death is an end,
And I thought that time might have made a change in Agatha—
It has made enough in me. Thirty-five years ago
You took my husband from me. Now you take my son.
AGATHA
What did I take? nothing that you ever had.
What did I get? thirty years of solitude,
Alone, among women, in a women’s college,
Trying not to dislike women. Thirty years in which to think.
Do you suppose that I wanted to return to Wishwood?
AMY
The more rapacious, to take what I never had;
The more unpardonable, to taunt me with not having it.
Had you taken what I had, you would have left me at least a memory
Of something to live upon. You knew that you took everything
Except the walls, the furniture, the acres;
Leaving nothing—but what I could breed for myself,
What I could plant here. Seven years I kept him,
For the sake of the future, a discontented ghost.
In his own house. What of the humiliation,
Of the chilly pretences in the silent bedroom,
Forcing sons upon an unwilling father?
Dare you think what that does to one? Try to think of it.
I would have sons, if I could not have a husband:
Then I let him go. I abased myself.
Did I show any weakness, any self-pity?
I forced myself to the purposes of Wishwood;
I even asked you back, for visits, after he was gone,
So that there might be no ugly rumours.
You thought I did not know!
You may be close, but I always saw through him.
And now it is my son.
AGATHA
I know one thing, Amy:
That you have never changed. And perhaps I have not.
I thought that I had, until this evening.
But at least I wanted to. Now I must begin.
There is nothing more difficult. But you are just the same:
Just as voracious for what you cannot have
Because you repel it.
AMY
I prepared the situation
For us to be reconciled, because of Harry,
Because of his mistakes, because of his unhappiness,
Because of the misery that he has left behind him,
Because of the waste. I wanted to obliterate
His past life, and have nothing except to remind him
Of the years when he had been a happy boy at Wishwood;
For his future success.
AGATHA
Success is relative:
It is what we can make of the mess we have made of things,
It is what he can make, not what you would make for him.
AMY
Success is one thing, what you would make for him
Is another. I call it failure. Your fury for possession
Is only the stronger for all these years of abstinence.
Thirty-five years ago you took my husband from me
And now you take my son.
AGATHA
Why should we quarrel for what neither can have?
If neither has ever had a husband or a son
We have no ground for argument.
AMY
Who set you up to judge? what, if you please,
Gives you the power to know what is best for Harry?
What gave you this influence to persuade him
To abandon his duty, his family and his happiness?
Who has planned his good? is it you or I?
Thirty-five years designing his life,
Eight years watching, without him, at Wishwood,
Years of bitterness and disappointment.
What share had you in this? what have you given?
And now at the moment of success against failure,
When I felt assured of his settlement and happiness,
You who took my husband, no
w you take my son.
You take him from Wishwood, you take him from me, You take him . . .
[Enter MARY.]
MARY
Excuse me, Cousin Amy. I have just seen Denman.
She came to tell me that Harry is leaving:
Downing told her. He has got the car out.
What is the matter?
AMY
That woman there,
She has persuaded him: I do not know how.
I have been always trying to make myself believe
That he was not such a weakling as his father
In the hands of any unscrupulous woman.
I have no influence over him; you can try,
But you will not succeed: she has some spell
That works from generation to generation.
MARY
Is Harry really going?
AGATHA
He is going.
But that is not my spell, it is none of my doing:
I have only watched and waited. In this world
It is inexplicable, the resolution is in another.
MARY
Oh, but it is the danger comes from another!
Can you not stop him? Cousin Agatha, stop him!
You do not know what I have seen and what I know!
He is in great danger, I know that, don’t ask me,
You would not believe me, but I tell you I know.
You must keep him here, you must not let him leave.
I do not know what must be done, what can be done,
Even here, but elsewhere, everywhere, he is in danger.
I will stay or I will go, whichever is better;
I do not care what happens to me,
But Harry must not go. Cousin Agatha!
AGATHA
Here the danger, here the death, here, not elsewhere;
Elsewhere no doubt is agony, renunciation,
But birth and life. Harry has crossed the frontier
Beyond which safety and danger have a different meaning.
And he cannot return. That is his privilege.
For those who live in this world, this world only,
Do you think that I would take the responsibility
Of tempting them over the border? No one could, no one who knows.
No one who has the least suspicion of what is to be found there.
But Harry has been led across the frontier: he must follow;
For him the death is now only on this side,
For him, danger and safety have another meaning.
They have made this clear. And I who have seen them must believe them.
MARY
Oh! . . . so . . . you have seen them too!
AGATHA
We must all go, each in his own direction,
You, and I, and Harry. You and I,
My dear, may very likely meet again
In our wanderings in the neutral territory
Between two worlds.
MARY
Then you will help me!
You remember what I said to you this evening?
I knew that I was right: you made me wait for this—
Only for this. I suppose I did not really mean it
Then, but I mean it now. Of course it was much too late
Then, for anything to come for me: I should have known it;
It was all over, I believe, before it began;
But I deceived myself. It takes so many years
To learn that one is dead! So you must help me.
I will go. But I suppose it is much too late
Now, to try to get a fellowship?
AMY
So you will all leave me!
An old woman alone in a damned house.
I will let the walls crumble. Why should I worry
To keep the tiles on the roof, combat the endless weather,
Resist the wind? fight with increasing taxes
And unpaid rents and tithes? nourish investments
With wakeful nights and patient calculations
With the solicitor, the broker, agent? Why should I?
It is no concern of the body in the tomb
To bother about the upkeep. Let the wind and rain do that.
[While AMY has been speaking, HARRY has entered, dressed for departure.]
HARRY
But, mother, you will always have Arthur and John
To worry about: not that John is any worry—
The destined and the perfect master of Wishwood,
The satisfactory son. And as for me,
I am the last you need to worry about;
I have my course to pursue, and I am safe from normal dangers
If I pursue it. I cannot account for this
But it is so, mother. Until I come again.
AMY
If you go now, I shall never see you again.
[Meanwhile VIOLET, GERALD and CHARLES have entered.]
CHARLES
Where is Harry going? What is the matter?
AMY
Ask Agatha.
GERALD
Why, what’s the matter? Where is he going?
AMY
Ask Agatha.
VIOLET
I cannot understand at all. Why is he leaving?
AMY
Ask Agatha.
VIOLET
Really, it sometimes seems to me
That I am the only sane person in this house.
Your behaviour all seems to me quite unaccountable.
What has happened, Amy?
AMY
Harry is going away—to become a missionary.
HARRY
But. . . !
CHARLES
A missionary! that’s never happened in our family!
And why in such a hurry? Before you make up your mind . . .
VIOLET
You can’t really think of living in a tropical climate!
GERALD
There’s nothing wrong with a tropical climate—
But you have to go in for some sort of training;
The medical knowledge is the first thing.
I’ve met with missionaries, often enough—
Some of them very decent fellows. A maligned profession.
They’re sometimes very useful, knowing the natives,
Though occasionally troublesome. But you’ll have to learn the language
And several dialects. It means a lot of preparation.
VIOLET
And you need some religious qualification!
I think you should consult the vicar . . .
GERALD
And don’t forget
That you’ll need various inoculations—
That depends on where you’re going.
CHARLES
Such a thing
Has never happened in our family.
VIOLET
I cannot understand it.
HARRY
I never said that I was going to be a missionary.
I would explain, but you would none of you believe it;
If you believed it, still you would not understand.
You can’t know why I’m going. You have not seen
What I have seen. Oh, why should you make it so ridiculous
Just now? I only want, please,
As little fuss as possible. You must get used to it;
Meanwhile, I apologise for my bad manners.
But if you could understand you would be quite happy about it,
So I shall say good-bye, until we meet again.
GERALD
Well, if you are determined, Harry, we must accept it;
But it’s a bad night, and you will have to be careful.
You’re taking Downing with you?
HARRY
Oh, yes, I’m taking Downing.
You need not fear that I am in any danger
Of such accidents as happen to Arthur and John:
Take care of them. My address, mother,
; Will be care of the bank in London until you hear from me.
Good-bye, mother.
AMY
Good-bye, Harry.
HARRY
Good-bye.
AGATHA
Good-bye.
HARRY
Good-bye, Mary.
MARY
Good-bye, Harry. Take care of yourself.
[Exit HARRY.]
AMY
At my age, I only just begin to apprehend the truth
About things too late to mend: and that is to be old.
Nevertheless, I am glad if I can come to know them.
I always wanted too much for my children,
More than life can give. And now I am punished for it.
Gerald! you are the stupidest person in this room,
Violet, you are the most malicious in a harmless way;
I prefer your company to that of any of the others
Just to help me to the next room. Where I can lie down.
Then you can leave me.
GERALD
Oh, certainly, Amy.
VIOLET
I do not understand
A single thing that’s happened.
[Exeunt AMY, VIOLET, GERALD.]
CHARLES
