But I see you believe it. You want to believe it.
Well, believe it, then. But don’t let it make a difference
To our relations. Or, perhaps, for the better?
Perhaps we’ll be happier together if you think
I am not your father. I’ll accept that.
If you will stay with me. It shall make no difference
To my plans for your future.
COLBY. Thank you, Sir Claude.
You’re a very generous man. But now I know who was my father
I must follow my father — so that I may come to know him.
SIR CLAUDE. What do you mean?
COLBY. I want to be an organist.
It doesn’t matter about success —
I aimed too high before — beyond my capacity.
I thought I didn’t want to be an organist
When I found I had no chance of getting to the top —
That is, to become the organist of a cathedral.
But my father was an unsuccessful organist.
MRS. GUZZARD. You should say, Colby, not very successful.
COLBY. And I wish to follow my father.
SIR CLAUDE. But, Colby:
Don’t you remember a talk we had —
So very long ago! — when we shared our ambitions
And shared our disappointment. And you described your feelings
On beginning to learn the ways of business;
The exhilaration of finding you could handle
Matters you would have thought so uncongenial;
And the way in which you felt that you were changing?
That conversation would have convinced me
With no other evidence, that you were my son,
Because you described my own experience, exactly.
Does that mean nothing to you, the experience we shared?
Heaven knows — and you know — I put no obstruction
In the way of your fulfilling your musical ambitions —
Had you been able to fulfil them.
Believe, if you like, that I am not your father:
I’ll accept that. I put no claim upon you —
Except the claim of our likeness to each other.
We have undergone the same disillusionment:
I want us to make the best of it, together.
COLBY. No, Sir Claude. I hate to hurt you
As I am hurting you. But it is very different.
As long as I believed that you were my father
I was content to have had the same ambitions
And in the same way to accept their failure.
You had your father before you, as a model;
You knew your inheritance. Now I know mine.
SIR CLAUDE. I shall never ask you to think of me as a father;
All I ask you is — to regard me as a friend.
COLBY. But you would still think of me as your son.
There can be no relation of father and son
Unless it works both ways. For you to regard me —
As you would — as your son, when I could not think of you
As my father: if I accepted that
I should be guilty towards you. I like you too much.
You’ve become a man without illusions
About himself, and without ambitions.
Now that I’ve abandoned my illusions and ambitions
All that’s left is love. But not on false pretences:
That’s why I must leave you.
SIR CLAUDE. Eggerson!
Can’t you persuade him?
LADY ELIZABETH. Yes. My poor Claude!
Do try to help him, Eggerson.
EGGERSON. I wouldn’t venture.
Mr. Simpkins is a man who knows his own mind.
Is it true, Mr. Simpkins, that what you desire
Is to become the organist of some parish church?
COLBY. That is what I want. If anyone will take me.
EGGERSON. If so, I happen to know of a vacancy
In my own parish, in Joshua Park —
If it should appeal to you. The organist we had
Died two months ago. We’ve been looking for another.
COLBY. Do you think that they would give me a trial?
EGGERSON. Give you a trial? I’m certain.
Good organists don’t seem to want to come to Joshua Park.
COLBY. But I’ve told you, I’m not a very good organist!
EGGERSON. Don’t say that, Mr. Simpkins, until you’ve tried our organ!
COLBY. Well, if you could induce them to try me …
EGGERSON. The Parochial Church Council will be only too pleased,
And I have some influence. I am the Vicar’s Warden.
COLBY. I’d like to apply.
EGGERSON. The stipend is small —
Very small, I’m afraid. Not enough to live on.
We’ll have to think of other ways
Of making up an income. Piano lessons? —
As a temporary measure; because, Mr. Simpkins —
I hope you won’t take this as an impertinence —
I don’t see you spending a lifetime as an organist.
I think you’ll come to find you’ve another vocation.
We worked together every day, you know,
For quite a little time, and I’ve watched you pretty closely.
Mr. Simpkins! You’ll be thinking of reading for orders.
And you’ll still have your music. Why, Mr. Simpkins,
Joshua Park may be only a stepping-stone
To a precentorship! And a canonry!
COLBY. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, Eggers.
Oh, I’m sorry …
EGGERSON. Don’t be sorry: I’m delighted.
And by the way, a practical point:
If you took the position, you’d want to find your feet
In Joshua Park, before you settled on lodgings;
We have a spare room. We should be most happy
If you cared to stop with us, until you were settled.
COLBY. I’d be very glad indeed — if Mrs. Eggerson approved.
EGGERSON. There’ll be no one so pleased as Mrs. E.;
Of that I can assure you.
MRS. GUZZARD. Mr. Eggerson,
I cannot see eye to eye with you,
Having been, myself, the wife of an organist;
But you too, I think, have had a wish realised.
— I believe that this interview can now be terminated.
If you will excuse me, Sir Claude …
SIR CLAUDE. Excuse you? Yes.
MRS. GUZZARD. I shall return to Teddington. Colby,
Will you get me a taxi to go to Waterloo?
COLBY. Get you a taxi? Yes, Aunt Sarah;
But I should see you home.
MRS. GUZZARD. Home? Only to a taxi.
Do you mind if I take my leave, Sir Claude?
I’m no longer needed here.
[Exit COLBY]
SIR CLAUDE. Mind? What do I mind?
MRS. GUZZARD. Then I will say goodbye. You have all had your wish
In one form or another. You and I, Sir Claude,
Had our wishes twenty-five years ago;
But we failed to observe, when we had our wishes,
That there was a time-limit clause in the contract.
SIR CLAUDE. What’s that? Oh. Good-bye, Mrs. Guzzard.
[Exit MRS. GUZZARD]
SIR CLAUDE. What’s happened? Have they gone? Is Colby coming back?
LADY ELIZABETH. My poor Claude!
[LUCASTA crosses to SIR CLAUDE and kneels beside him]
KAGHAN. You know, Claude, I think we all made the same mistake —
All except Eggers …
EGGERSON. Me, Mr. Kaghan?
KAGHAN. We wanted Colby to be something he wasn’t.
LADY ELIZABETH. I suppose that’s true of you and me, Claude.
Between not knowing what other people want of one,
And not knowing what one should ask of other people,
One does make mistakes! But I mean to do better.
Claude, we’ve got to try to understand our children.
KAGHAN. And we should like to understand you …
I mean, I’m including both of you,
Claude … and Aunt Elizabeth.
You know, Claude, both Lucasta and I
Would like to mean something to you … if you’d let us;
And we’d take the responsibility of meaning it.
[LUCASTA puts her arms around SIR CLAUDE]
SIR CLAUDE. Don’t leave me, Lucasta.
Eggerson! Do you really believe her?
[EGGERSON nods]
CURTAIN
The Cast of the First Production at the
Edinburgh Festival
August 25–September 5 1953
Sir Claude Mulhammer PAUL ROGERS
Eggerson ALAN WEBB
Colby Simpkins DENHOLM ELLIOTT
B. Kaghan PETER JONES
Lucasta Angel MARGARET LEIGHTON
Lady Elizabeth Mulhammer ISABEL JEANS
Mrs. Guzzard ALISON LEGGATT
Presented by HENRY SHEREK
Directed by E. MARTIN BROWNE
Settings designed by HUTCHINSON SCOTT
* Lady Elizabeth’s words off stage are not intended to be heard distinctly by an audience in the theatre.
THE ELDER STATESMAN
TO MY WIFE
To whom I owe the leaping delight
That quickens my senses in our wakingtime
And the rhythm that governs the repose of our sleepingtime,
The breathing in unison
Of lovers …
Who think the same thoughts without need of speech
And babble the same speech without need of meaning:
To you I dedicate this book, to return as best I can
With words a little part of what you have given me.
The words mean what they say, but some have a further meaning
For you and me only.
Characters
MONICA CLAVERTON-FERRY
CHARLES HEMINGTON
LAMBERT
LORD CLAVERTON
FEDERICO GOMEZ
MRS. PIGGOTT
MRS. CARGHILL
MICHAEL CLAVERTON-FERRY
ACT ONE
The drawing-room of Lord Claverton’s London house. Four o’clock in the afternoon
ACT TWO
The Terrace at Badgley Court. Morning
ACT THREE
The Same. Late afternoon of the following day
Act One
The drawing-room of LORD CLAVERTON’S London house. Four o’clock in the afternoon.
[Voices in the hall]
CHARLES. Is your father at home to-day?
MONICA. You’ll see him at tea.
CHARLES. But if I’m not going to have you to myself
There’s really no point in my staying to tea.
[Enter MONICA and CHARLEs carrying parcels]
MONICA. But you must stay to tea. That was understood
When you said you could give me the whole afternoon.
CHARLES. But I couldn’t say what I wanted to say to you
Over luncheon …
MONICA. That’s your own fault.
You should have taken me to some other restaurant
Instead of to one where the maître d’hôtel
And the waiters all seem to be your intimate friends.
CHARLES. It’s the only place where I’m really well known
And get well served. And when you’re with me
It must be a perfect lunch.
MONICA. It was a perfect lunch.
But I know what men are — they like to show off.
That’s masculine vanity, to want to have the waiters
That she’s not the only one who’s been there with him.
CHARLES. Well, tease me if you like. But a man does feel a fool
If he takes you to a place where he’s utterly unknown
And the waiters all appear to be avoiding his eye.
MONICA. We’re getting off the point …
CHARLES. You’ve got me off my point …
I was trying to explain …
MONICA. It’s simply the question
Of your staying to tea. As you practically promised.
CHARLES. What you don’t understand is that I have a grievance.
On Monday you’re leaving London, with your father:
I arranged to be free for the whole afternoon
On the plain understanding …
MONICA. That you should stop to tea.
CHARLES. When I said that I was free for the whole afternoon,
That meant you were to give me the whole afternoon.
I couldn’t say what I wanted to, in a restaurant;
And then you took me on a shopping expedition …
MONICA. If you don’t like shopping with me …
CHARLES. Of course I like shopping with you.
But how can one talk on a shopping expedition —
Except to guess what you want to buy
And advise you to buy it.
MONICA. But why not stop to tea?
CHARLES. Very well then, I will stop to tea,
But you know I won’t get a chance to talk to you.
You know that. Now that your father’s retired
He’s at home every day. And you’re leaving London.
And because your father simply can’t bear it
That any man but he should have you to himself,
Before I’ve said two words he’ll come ambling in …
MONICA. You’ve said a good deal more than two words already.
And besides, my father doesn’t amble.
You’re not at all respectful.
CHARLES. I try to be respectful;
But you know that I shan’t have a minute alone with you.
MONICA. You’ve already had several minutes alone with me
Which you’ve wasted in wrangling. But seriously, Charles,
Father’s sure to be buried in the library
And he won’t think of leaving it until he’s called for tea.
So why not talk now? Though I know very well
What it is you want to say. I’ve heard it all before.
CHARLES. And you’ll hear it again. You think I’m going to tell you
Once more, that I’m in love with you. Well, you’re right.
But I’ve something else to say that I haven’t said before,
That will give you a shock. I believe you love me.
MONICA. Oh, what a dominating man you are!
Really, you must imagine you’re a hypnotist.
CHARLES. Is this a time to torment me? But I’m selfish
In saying that, because I think —
I think you’re tormenting yourself as well.
MONICA. You’re right. I am. Because I am in love with you.
CHARLES. So I was right! The moment I’d said it
I was badly frightened. For I didn’t know you loved me —
I merely wanted to believe it. And I’ve made you say so!
But now that you’ve said so, you must say it again,
For I need so much assurance! Are you sure you’re not mistaken?
MONICA. How did this come, Charles? It crept so softly
On silent feet, and stood behind my back
Quietly, a long time, a long long time
Before I felt its presence.
CHARLES. Your words seem to come
From very far away. Yet very near. You are changing me
And I am changing you.
MONICA. Already
How much of me is you?
CHARLES. And how much of me is you?
I’m not the same person as a moment ago.
What do the words mean now — I and you?
MONICA. In our private world — now we have our private world —