Doctors of Philosophy: A Play

by Muriel Spark

  CATHERINE. She has a theory, unfortunately.

  ANNIE. Charlie, you must put her mind at rest and blow all her theories to hell.

  CATHERINE. That’s one of the things she’s afraid he is going to do.

  ANNIE. We shall work it all out when we see your parents tonight, Charlie. Have you told them that Daphne has refused to marry you?

  CHARLIE. No.

  ANNIE. Good. Then we can spring it on them, and take the wind out of their sails. That will be our first move. The naturally hostile spirit between in-laws can then be exploited in a friendly atmosphere. It’s only right that Daphne should be unobtainable.

  YOUNG CHARLIE. That’s a nice dress.

  CATHERINE. Annie’s going to change into something less formal. We want to give the right impression of the family as a whole, and so Annie has kindly agreed to give the wrong impression of herself.

  YOUNG CHARLIE. You look nice, Annie.

  ANNIE. Charlie, when you do decide to speak, it sounds terrifically eloquent. (Exit.)

  YOUNG CHARLIE. Annie looks nice.

  CATHERINE. Nicer than Daphne?

  YOUNG CHARLIE. Daphne’s different.

  DAPHNE appears at the French windows with the tape recorder. She silently places it on a table, switches it on, and withdraws unobserved by CATHERINE and YOUNG CHARLIE.

  CATHERINE. Annie is attractive.

  YOUNG CHARLIE. I like the red dress.

  CATHERINE. You have simple tastes, Charlie. Men whose work has to do with abstractions have simple tastes, don’t you think?

  YOUNG CHARLIE. I won’t discuss my work.

  CATHERINE. I don’t see that there will be anything at all to discuss if Daphne refuses to marry you.

  YOUNG CHARLIE. She will have to marry me for the sake of the child.

  CATHERINE. That’s a grim view of things, I must say.

  YOUNG CHARLIE. It’s grim that she doesn’t love me enough to marry me. She didn’t mind going to bed with a nuclear-physicist.

  CATHERINE. Daphne is a very complicated girl for a man who has simple tastes in women.

  YOUNG CHARLIE. Complicated women attract men of simple tastes.

  CATHERINE. DO they now? Would you say Leonora was an attractive woman? I mean, like Annie?

  YOUNG CHARLIE. I don’t know. I’ll have a look and see.

  CATHERINE. We think there’s a man in her life. Or at least the opportunity of one. Do you really want to marry my complicated daughter?

  YOUNG CHARLIE. Yes.

  CATHERINE. Are you feeling very miserable because she has said she won’t marry you?

  YOUNG CHARLIE. Not at the moment.

  CATHERINE. Why not at the moment?

  YOUNG CHARLIE. Because I like being flirted with by her complicated mother.

  CATHERINE. Charlie, you have a very unexpected cast of mind.

  YOUNG CHARLIE. It’s a simple mind. If you go on talking on this subject, naturally I shall make love to you.

  CATHERINE. What subject?

  YOUNG CHARLIE. The relative attractions of women.

  CATHERINE. ? speak in the academic sense.

  YOUNG CHARLIE. I don’t listen in the academic sense. (Kisses her passionately.) Women are women to me, not ideas.

  Enter MRS.S. with cardboard carton, which she dumps on the floor.

  MRS. S. Found this under the kitchen table. (Going over to look at tape recorder.) You don’t want to waste the tape. (Switches it off. Returns to the box.) Now then. If I’m going to stop overnight to help you out with the dinner, you got to listen to me, Mrs. D. (Picks out hot-water bottle.) What you want to throw this away for?

  CATHERINE. It’s finished, it’s got a leak. Charlie, I think I’m insulted.

  MRS. S. What did you throw it away for, then? You should of chucked it out. This is the box for throwing things away. Objects is of no use to me if they got a leak, what’s the use of me taking them home? Be more careful in the future. It should a been chucked out.

  CATHERINE. Anyway, I just am not satisfied.

  MRS. S. (bringing out pyjama trousers). And what you want to throw this away for?

  CATHERINE. I forget. There must be some reason. Charlie, I don’t know what to do with you.

  MRS. S. Ought to be chucked out. Gone at the knee. Have you got the top to it, Mrs. D.?

  CATHERINE. No, I chucked it out last week. I must go and get ready.

  MRS. S. You don’t want to waste the cord. It might do for tying up things that you want to chuck out.

  Enter DAPHNE with telegram.

  DAPHNE. A wire for Father.

  CATHERINE. I think I know what it is. I’m dying to open it. I wonder if I ought?

  DAPHNE. Your delicacy is unbelievable.

  YOUNG CHARLIE. Daphne—

  Exit DAPHNE through window.

  CATHERINE (opens telegram). It’s Charlie’s new appointment. That means he’s a Professor of Economics — confirmation to follow. Oh well, I’m glad this has happened before the party. (Goes out.)

  Fade.

  Lights up on empty room after dinner.

  Noises from the dining-room.

  Enter LEONORA, MRS. WESTON and ANNIE. ANNIE is dressed in black skirt, black stockings, white blouse with floppy black tie and heavy-rimmed glasses.

  MRS. WESTON. I always think it’s awfully degrading, this habit of having to leave the men after dinner to get down to their serious talk. It makes one feel like an empty chattel, and they always take such a long time to come.

  LEONORA. We’re supposed to take a long time to powder our noses, Mrs. Weston.

  ANNIE. In any case, Mrs. Weston, we here don’t depend on the male element to provide intellectual nourishment. The women of this household always engage in a high level of conversation amongst themselves; very high.

  LEONORA. In my experience learned women mostly talk about the dreariest things when they withdraw at dinner-parties. They save all their bright talk till the men appear. There’s a positively hostile feeling till the men appear. It shouldn’t be so, but it is so.

  ANNIE. It may be so, Leonora, but you shouldn’t be saying so. My point is, that we’re not a frivolous set.

  LEONORA. Frivolity isn’t the only alternative to dreariness. Let’s not give Mrs. Weston the impression that we’re a dreary set.

  ANNIE. I disagree. On the whole, I think Mrs. Weston should have the impression that we are quite impersonal and as dreary as hell.

  MRS. WESTON. My dears, we’re all going to be great friends. Herbert and I have made that decision in spite of the circumstances. When we heard the news, Herbert said to me, ‘Now look, we’ve got to like them or lump them, so we’d better like them.’ And when Herbert says a thing, believe me, he means it.

  ANNIE. What are your husband’s other names, Mrs. Weston?

  MRS. WESTON. He has no other names. (Enter CATHERINE.) Plain Herbert Weston.

  ANNIE. We wondered if he might be a Charlie, which would have been confusing. The Professor is a Charlie, and your son is a Charlie, we call him young Charlie.

  LEONORA. Which Professor is a Charlie?

  CATHERINE. Charlie has had unofficial news, Leonora.

  LEONORA. Oh I see. Splendid.

  Enter DAPHNE.

  MRS. WESTON. And we may have an even younger Charlie before we know where we are! Perhaps he’ll be a scholar like his father.

  ANNIE. Daphne is also a scholar. I have high hopes of Daphne, personally, when she is able to continue her studies.

  MRS. WESTON. Oh, she won’t have much time for studies, believe me.

  ANNIE. I speak from an academic point of view, of course, it’s ingrained in us, I’m afraid. It runs in the family.

  CATHERINE. You’re being very practical, Mrs. Weston. The more practical thing, of course, would be for Daphne to employ a well-trained nurse with a suitable domestic staff.

  MRS. WESTON. Well that’s funny, on Charlie’s pay, isn’t it, Daphne?

  DAPHNE. It’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard in my
life. I’m not remotely interested in Charlie’s pay, it doesn’t concern me in the least.

  ANNIE. The Professor would be mildly disturbed if he could hear you, Daphne.

  MRS. WESTON. I’m wondering how Herbert and Charlie are getting on with the Professor in there. My son never has much to say to his father, because of course his job has done that, it‘s silenced him. Poor Herbert will be rather out of his depth between the two of them. Herbert isn‘t the studious type. He only studies me! I’ve got my little interest in life, though. Of course, it’s not so deep as what you’re accustomed to. I study herbs.

  ANNIE. Herbs the diminutive of Herbert?

  LEONORA. I think Mrs. Weston means herbology. A very vast subject, Mrs. Weston.

  MRS. WESTON. Remind me, Daphne, to give you the recipe for Artemisia Absinthium, commonly known as Saint John’s Girdle or Wormwood. An infusion of this herb has been recommended for healthy childbearing since the Middle Ages,

  DAPHNE runs off to be sick.

  and as Tusser wrote in the sixteenth century, ‘It is as a comfort for heart and for brain. And therefore to have it, it is not in vaine.‘ An early belief taught that it was worn by Saint John, hence Cingulum Sanctus Johannis, and was used as a charm against evil. It is also used to this day in country districts as a disinfectant in cases of the measles.

  ANNIE. How very thrilling, or rather, I should say, exciting. Do you make up love potions, Mrs. Weston?

  MRS. WESTON. Oh, scholars are not interested in love potions, I’m sure.

  ANNIE. One takes an impersonal interest in everything, potions, love and all the other superstitions of the Dark Ages — doesn’t one, Leonora? Doesn’t one, Catherine?

  CATHERINE. I take an immediate interest in Daphne. Everything makes her sick. (Exit.)

  MRS. WESTON. Daphne’s Paying the Price.

  LEONORA. If you mean her child then it’s cheap at the price. If you mean she’s paying for anything else then we don’t care to hear it.

  MRS. WESTON. Well, I’m afraid I’m a realist. It’s inevitable that an unmarried mother should be more inconvenienced than a married mother, as there’s more nervous strain.

  ANNIE. A realist might say she isn’t yet an unmarried mother.

  MRS. WESTON. A realist might say she was very fortunate in the circumstances. I’m proud that my son has a sense of honour.

  LEONORA. You make it a moral question, Mrs. Weston?

  ANNIE. Because that‘s what we feel you’re making it.

  MRS. WESTON. Well, of course, morals come into it. I’ve been a member of the Mothers’ Union for twenty-three years, my dears, and I’ve done a lot of welfare work in that capacity as well as doing my little bit to help Herbert when a case like this crops up in his business. Both Charlie and Daphne are answerable for their morals.

  LEONORA. To whom?

  MRS. WESTON. To God and Society.

  LEONORA. Then they are not answerable to us. We are not God and as there are no men present, we can’t propose to represent Society. I think the subject is improper for us.

  ANNIE. And we’re devoted to Daphne, we won’t hear a word against her.

  MRS. WESTON. You scholars are not realists, that‘s my theory.

  ANNIE. Show her realism, Leonora. Go on! Blow all her theories to hell.

  LEONORA reaches out and gives the wall a push. The ceiling rises, while the wall recedes. Everything then settles back into place.

  MRS. WESTON. Oh, what are you doing? What did you do? I thought—

  Enter Catherine.

  CATHERINE. Mrs. Weston, do you think you could concoct a love potion for Daphne? She’s being particularly disagreeable.

  MRS. WESTON. Where’s Herbert? Why don’t they come? I feel very odd. I had a most strange illusion just now, as if the house was shaking. Are these houses flimsy?

  LEONORA. Realism is very flimsy.

  CATHERINE. Leonora, this is hardly the time for abstractions. I’m afraid my cousin Leonora has no sense of the concrete at all. Can I get you some brandy, Mrs. Weston?

  MRS. WESTON. A little water, please. I must have taken a turn.

  Enter DAPHNE with tape recorder.

  DAPHNE. Haven’t they come in yet ?

  MRS. WESTON. No, dear, they are discussing your future, I daresay.

  DAPHNE. Well, we’ll have to make our own entertainment, I daresay. (Opens tape recorder.)

  CATHERINE. Daphne, it’s not …?

  DAPHNE. No, it’s something new. Are you good at recognising voices, Mrs. Weston?

  MRS. WESTON. I don’t know, dear, why ?

  DAPHNE. Because I want you to hear a small portion of a recent performance by your lustful, incestuous monster of a nuclear-physicist son, playing opposite my unprincipled mother.

  CATHERINE’S VOICE. Would you say Leonora was an attractive woman? I mean — like Annie?

  YOUNG CHARLIE’S VOICE. I don’t know. I’ll have a look and see.

  Enter CHARLIE and YOUNG CHARLIE.

  CATHERINE’S VOICE. We think there’s a man in her life. Or at least the opportunity of one. Do you really want to marry my complicated daughter?

  YOUNG CHARLIE’S VOICE. Yes.

  CHARLIE. Sorry, but Weston’s father was to blame. He’s been telling funny … What’s going on?

  YOUNG CHARLIE. Who? What?

  CHARLIE. Daphne, it’s not … ?

  CATHERINE’S VOICE. Are you feeling very miserable because she has said she won‘t marry you?

  YOUNG CHARLIE’S VOICE. Not at the moment.

  DAPHNE. Listen to this bit.

  CATHERINE’S VOICE. Why not at the moment?

  YOUNG CHARLIE’S VOICE. Because I like being flirted with by her complicated mother.

  CATHERINE’S VOICE. Charlie, you have a very unexpected cast of mind.

  YOUNG CHARLIE’S VOICE. It’s a simple mind. If you go on talking on this subject, naturally I shall make love to you.

  CATHERINE’S VOICE. What subject?

  YOUNG CHARLIE‘S VOICE. The relative attractions of women.

  CATHERINE. Stop it, Daphne!

  DAPHNE prevents CATHERINE from stopping the machine.

  CATHERINE’S VOICE. I speak in the academic sense.

  YOUNG CHARLIE’S VOICE. I don’t listen in the academic sense. (Long kissing sound.) Women are women to me, not ideas.

  MRS. S.’s VOICE. Found this under the kitchen table.

  DAPHNE switches it off.

  MRS. WESTON. Was that part of a play?

  DAPHNE. It’s what you’d call a realistic part.

  YOUNG CHARLIE. Daphne, be sensible.

  DAPHNE. Get out of my life, Charlie. Disappear out of my life.

  Exit YOUNG CHARLIE through French windows.

  CHARLIE. Catherine, I must say …

  MRS. WESTON. I can’t stand any more of this, it’s … Herbert, where is he?

  LEONORA. Daphne, I know that you’re in difficulties, but I think you‘re most unpleasant. (Slaps her face: DAPHNE slaps LEONORA.)

  CHARLIE (calls upstairs). Weston, I say Weston!

  MRS. WESTON (slapping DAPHNE). Don’t you strike an older woman.

  CATHERINE (slapping MRS. W.). Take your hands off my daughter.

  ANNIE. Go on, Catherine. That‘s right, Leonora, just give as good as you get.

  MRS. WESTON (slapping CATHERINE). You and your daughter have seduced an innocent young man. Do you … ?

  CHARLIE (as LEONORA moves to slap MRS. WESTON). Leonora! Remember your invisible audience. Eyes upon you. (LEONORA hesitates then proceeds to slap MRS. WESTON regardless.)

  Fade.

  Lights up later in the evening, CHARLIE, ANNIE and LEONORA sit drinking in dejected silence for some moments.

  CHARLIE. Where‘s Catherine? LEONORA. Out on the terrace looking at the stars.

  CHARLIE. She‘s been looking at the stars for the last half hour.

  LEONORA. Twenty minutes.

  CHARLIE. This is no time to be looking at the stars for twenty minutes. (Calls.
) Catherine!

  CATHERINE (from terrace). Coming in a minute.

  LEONORA. We’ve been looking at each other for twenty minutes.

  ANNIE. I haven’t been looking at each other for twenty minutes. I’ve been looking at the problem from various angles. I see everyone’s point of view, which is very confusing. Seeing everyone’s point of view is like mixing your drinks.

  CHARLIE. You’ve been mixing your drinks, all right.

  ANNIE. It’s terrible to feel that one’s host is watching every sip and every mouthful. I wish someone would send me a bunch of flowers to restore my confidence. Why do they never come at the moment I need them?

  CHARLIE. The place is cluttered up with your flowers. (Calls.) Catherine! — Why does she go and look at the stars when we’re busy discussing a family crisis? (Calls.) Catherine!

  ANNIE (turning in her chair to look out). Shout at her politely, Charlie, she’s talking to someone.

  CHARLIE. Why is she talking to someone at this time of night? She’s always wasting her time gossiping with the neighbours. A higher education was wasted on Catherine. Like mother like daughter.

  Enter CATHERINE from terrace.

  CATHERINE. Haven’t you gone to bed yet?

  CHARLIE. Well, what an utterly stupid question. Like mother like daughter. Only fit for married life.

  ANNIE. Daphne isn’t fit for married life if you mean she’s got to marry into that family.

  CHARLIE. She won’t have the chance now.

  ANNIE. Most unsuitable. I shall adopt the baby, and Daphne can either continue her studies or marry the man of her choice.

  LEONORA. I shall adopt the baby.

  ANNIE. I spoke for it first.

  LEONORA. No, if you recall, I spoke for it first.

  ANNIE. You spoke to the wrong Charlie. I shall speak to the right Charlie.

  CATHERINE. You’re neither of you fit to adopt any baby. We shall speak to Daphne, and we shall adopt the baby. If all else fails.

  CHARLIE. All else has failed, but we can’t afford to adopt the baby. I’ll have to resign.

  CATHERINE. Why?

  CHARLIE. Well, when word gets round that my wife is a seducer of young graduates …