Karma: A Re-incarnation Play In Prologue, Epilogue & Three Acts
ACT III. THEIR THIRD LIFE TOGETHER.
TIME--FIFTEENTH CENTURY. ITALY 123
EPILOGUE. PRESENT DAY 189
PROLOGUE
PRESENT DAY
CHARACTERS
PHILLIP LATTIN (45), British Agent in Egypt. MRS. LATTIN, his wife (40), mentally and physically ill; a woman of strong personality and exacting. THE DOCTOR, unpretentious, simple in bearing, gentle in manner. NURSE.
PROLOGUE
SCENE--_Room in LATTIN’S London house. MRS. LATTIN lies on sofa. A picture of Ancient Egypt, showing the Nile, palms and temples on wall easily visible to her._
TIME--_Present day, evening._
_Mrs. Lattin_
What time is it, nurse--_now_?
_Nurse_
Close on half-past five.
_Mrs. Lattin_
(_With irritability of a sick woman._) Not later? Are you sure? It’s so dark.
_Nurse_
(_Soothingly._) The dusk is closing in; I’ll light your lamp.
_Mrs. Lattin_
Half-past five, you said? My husband expected to be back before this. Hasn’t he come? The appointment was for half-past two.
_Nurse_
The Foreign Office takes its time. Mr. Lattin will come to you the moment he gets in.
_Mrs. Lattin_
You’re sure? I thought I heard his step.
_Nurse_
I’ll go and see the moment the lamp is lit. But he never forgets. He always comes in here first.
_Mrs. Lattin_
But he’s so long to-day, longer than usual. And he looked so grave, nurse, when he left. He looked worried, I thought. You noticed it?
_Nurse_
He _is_ taken up with these politics just now. It’s only natural, considering the crisis in Egypt. But he’s always so in earnest, isn’t he? I noticed nothing unusual. The Government is lucky to have him at such a time. No one could fill _his_ place. (_Brings lamp._) There’s the lamp. Is the shading right?
_Mrs. Lattin_
Fill his place! No, indeed. Phillip understands the natives better than anybody in the world. And the country too (_wistfully_). If only I could bring myself to go back to Egypt with him. (_Irritably._) The light catches my eye there. To the left a little. Now to the right. Thank you.
_Nurse_
The doctors all agree it’s best not, don’t they? The dry climate----
_Mrs. Lattin_
It’s not that, nurse. Dryness is what I _need_--warmth and dryness. It’s something else. Egypt frightens me. I can’t sleep there. Dreams come to me.
_Nurse_
The doctors said it was the effect of the climate on the nerves.
_Mrs. Lattin_
Oh, I know. I’d face it if I could--another winter. It means so much to Mr. Lattin, doesn’t it? Nurse! It’s curious--it’s strange, don’t you think--that Mr. Lattin feels nothing of that _I_ feel there? I mean----
_Nurse_
Hark! I think that’s Mr. Lattin’s step. I’ll go and see.
_Mrs. Lattin_
It can’t be the new doctor, can it?
_Nurse_
Dr. Ogilvie? Not yet. Six o’clock he was to come. He won’t be here before his time. These great specialists are busy men.
_Mrs. Lattin_
(_Wearily._) I’ve seen so many doctors. I hardly feel as if I had the strength for a new examination. Dr. Ogilvie will do me no good.
_Nurse_
Still you will see him. For your husband’s sake.
_Mrs. Lattin_
Ah, yes, for Phillip’s sake. I think my husband’s coming, nurse.
(_Enter PHILLIP._)
_Nurse_
Good-evening, Mr. Lattin. Mrs. Lattin is a trifle better. I’ll leave you for a little, but she must not tire herself. We are expecting Dr. Ogilvie at six.
_Phillip_
I’ll be very careful.
[_NURSE exit._
(_PHILLIP comes to his wife._)
_Mrs. Lattin_
At last, Phillip. I’m so glad you’ve come, dear. I’ve been waiting and longing so. They kept you--but you belong to me, don’t you? You’re tired, poor old thing. Come to me, Phillip--closer. (_Stretches out hand._)
_Phillip_
I _am_ a bit late. I’m sorry, Little Child. They kept me, yes. But _you_----?
_Mrs. Lattin_
I’m well enough to listen. You’re back; I forgive you. And it’s all arranged as you wished--as you hoped?
_Phillip_
Sir George was kindness itself----
_Mrs. Lattin_
You saw the Foreign Secretary!
_Phillip_
You didn’t know I was such a big-wig, did you? It is important, you see, dear. The situation out there is complicated. I’ve left them in the lurch a little, and my advice--er--my knowledge, Sir George was good enough to say--at such a time----
_Mrs. Lattin_
In the lurch, Phillip! How in the lurch? You’re only asking a longer leave than usual.
_Phillip_
There, there. I don’t want you to worry your dear head with politics. The new doctor will be here any minute now. That’s far more important.
_Mrs. Lattin_
I would rather know exactly. It doesn’t worry me.
_Phillip_
It’s all been arranged most satisfactorily, dear; and I’m very pleased. So _you’re_ pleased with me--eh?
_Mrs. Lattin_
Phillip--what has been arranged?
_Phillip_
Sir George was most complimentary. The Government would recognise my services--my long services, he called it. He even discussed with me--asked my advice, if you _must_ know the full weight of honour placed upon me!--as to my successor----
_Mrs. Lattin_
Successor!
_Phillip_
But, darling, _some one_ must fill my place. There must be a _locum tenens_, as they say in the church.
_Mrs. Lattin_
You’ve--resigned!
_Phillip_
Dear one, there was no other way. It’s a formality, you see. I can always take it up again where I left it off. Our man in Egypt--just now--must be _there_. He must be on the spot, of course----
_Mrs. Lattin_
But six months’ leave! Surely, six months’ leave----
_Phillip_
Means the entire winter. There, there, Little Child, it’s nothing. You must not exaggerate like this. What is my work in Egypt compared to being with you. The doctors forbid you to go out. It’s quite simple: I prefer to stay with you. _My_ world lies in your heart. I--I can always take up the work again when--when you’re better.
_Mrs. Lattin_
Resigned, resigned! You have actually resigned. Your career--I have broken your career--at last--completely. Is it wrong, then, that I need you so?
_Phillip_
Hush, dearest----
_Mrs. Lattin_
You have paid this tremendous price--and I have made you pay it.
_Phillip_
I wish to be always with you. That is my only wish, my only happiness.
_Mrs. Lattin_
For my sake you have sacrificed----
_Phillip_
It’s I who am selfish to tire you with all this stupid Government business. There, now; you’ve talked too much and I have done you harm. There’s only happiness in my heart. No more nonsense-talk about sacrifice. You must lie quiet and rest again. I can be always with you.
_Mrs. Lattin_
Yes, to the end--my end and yours. O God! Why did I not understand before?
_Phillip_
You must not speak like that. Love--our love--knows no end.
_Mrs. Lattin_
Oh, I am miserable, Phillip, miserable, miserable.
_Phillip_
_Please_, do not say such things.
_Mrs. Lattin_
But I must, I must. My selfishness has brought you to this last renouncement. Egypt has meant so much to you.
_Phillip_
Too much, Mary, too much. Egypt was coming between us.
_Mrs. Lattin_
Your work there, the great work I have ruined…! Egypt meant home to you.
_Phillip_
Home is where you are, dearest, and nowhere else. You have taught me this--in time. (_To himself._) Egypt! Ah, Egypt!
_Mrs. Lattin_
I hate it. It terrifies me. There is pain for me in Egypt. An instinctive dread comes over me always--something from very far away. I _have_ struggled against it, for your sake, but--oh, it’s so, so strong. If only you could forgive me----!
_Phillip_
Hush, dearest!
_Mrs. Lattin_
But it _has_ come between us. You love it so. And it’s my fault that you can’t--your career, I mean----
_Phillip_
Dear one, whatever is, is right. There is nothing to regret. Egypt, indeed, has drawn me strangely. There is some power out there--a spiritual power--that has cast a glamour over me. It has been a passion with me.
_Mrs. Lattin_
My instinctive terror!
_Phillip_
And my instinctive love!
[_They glance together in silence at a great picture above the bed--an Egyptian night-scene, with stars and Nile._
Yes … yes … strange indeed! From my earliest days it drew me. Those palms and temples, that majestic desert----!
_Mrs. Lattin_
Phillip, don’t! Those stars, that river bring me sadness--immense regret. I feel them always rising over me. They watch me!
_Phillip_
Forgive me. It was the marvellous beauty took me. I----
_Mrs. Lattin_
But it’s an unearthly beauty. And something in it--lost. It’s lost to you. And I--oh, but I do love you so; for ever and ever you are _mine_--aren’t you?
[_He stoops and kisses her. She half rises, whispering_:
Phillip, dearest--something strange comes over me. I see a lifting of this heavy English sky. I have been through this before--I have done this very thing before--long, long ago--injured you somehow! Oh, Phillip, can it be that we have lived before--pre-existence--is it true? (_Sinks back._) I think … I think I must be near to … death!
_Phillip_
Hush, hush, my darling. These are sick fancies only. Your brain is tired. We must not talk like this.
_Mrs. Lattin_
I _am_ tired, yes; but it is my soul that aches and not my body. Phillip, I want your forgiveness.
_Phillip_
There is nothing to forgive. I love you.
_Mrs. Lattin_
(_Spiritually tortured and perplexed._) I want your real forgiveness--before I go. I have been suffering deeply, deeply. Curtains have been rising. I almost see. Something seems growing clearer to me. I’ve done wrong somewhere! Why have I pulled against you all these years--against your work? It cannot be my love that is at fault. You’re wholly mine--and yet I want your forgiveness somehow----
_Phillip_
(_Deep patience._) All the love and forgiveness in the world I give you, Little Child. But you ask for what was always yours.
_Mrs. Lattin_
Your broken mission. You alone have the strength and patience Egypt needs. I have ruined all, all, all!
_Phillip_
There! I forgive you, then. (_Kisses her._) I forgive you all, all, all. But please calm yourself. This excitement does you harm. You torment yourself for nothing. It is I who have been, and am, the egoist. All men who think their work is a mission are shameless egoists.
_Mrs. Lattin_
Thank you, Phillip, for this great gift of your forgiveness. But it is not enough. I want to understand--and so forgive _myself_.
_Phillip_
You must rest now a little. It was criminal of me to let you talk so much. No, not another word. I’ll leave you for a bit. You must be calm to see the Doctor. It’s nearly six----
_Mrs. Lattin_
Dr. Ogilvie can’t help me.
_Phillip_
What! The first man of the day! His wonderful cures----
_Mrs. Lattin_
He cures the body only. _I_ need a soul physician. Oh, Phillip, I believe sometimes my yearning _must_ bring him to me.
_Phillip_
My darling, it is your body alone that is ill. Your suffering gives you these strange fancies.
_Mrs. Lattin_
You love me too well to understand. (_Sighs._) My illness is not only of the body. Now, leave me, dearest. I wish to see him quite alone.
_Phillip_
Little Child, you shall. You can dismiss the nurse. (_Glances at clock._) It is close on six.
_Mrs. Lattin_
Kiss me. (_He kisses her softly and goes out._) If only--ah, if only my great yearning.…
[_She lies back exhausted. Sighs. Covers her face with her hands. After a moment she uncovers her face and half sits up again. She stares hard at Egyptian picture on the wall._
The fault lies in my soul, and it comes first from there--from Egypt. The river is rising, rising once again. The stars are rising too. They watch me, and they wait. They’re always watching us. O God! If only some one could make me understand! If some great doctor of the soul…! (_Sinks back. Her eyes close. She lies very still._)
[_A big clock on the mantelpiece strikes the first three strokes of six o’clock, then stops. The door opens slowly and a man enters quietly. He looks round the room, sees her on the sofa apparently asleep, and stands still, a few feet inside the door. He looks steadily at her a moment, then glances at the picture of Egypt on the wall. He smiles gently. His figure is a little bent, perhaps. He is not a big man with any marked presence. As he smiles, she opens her eyes and sees him. She shows surprise and slight embarrassment. She raises herself on one arm. Her voice is hushed rather when she speaks. He remains near the open door._
I beg your pardon. Is it--Dr. Ogilvie?
_Doctor_
I am the Doctor.
_Mrs. Lattin_
I must apologise. Did no one----?
_Doctor_
I found my way.
[_Both pause, gazing._
_Mrs. Lattin_
(_With relief._) Ah! Thank you.
[_She makes an unfinished gesture towards a seat. Her eyes remain fixed on his. She smiles faintly._
_Doctor_
You called for me. (_He makes one step nearer._)
_Mrs. Lattin_
My husband, I believe, did write. We--expected you.
_Doctor_
I am come.
_Mrs. Lattin_
It is exceedingly--it is more than kind of you. You are so good. I mean--(_stammers; sinks back upon the cushions, unable to maintain the effort_). I am very ill.
_Doctor_
I know.
_Mrs. Lattin_
You know! Ah yes--you know.
_Doctor_
That is why you called me. That is why I am here now.
_Mrs. Lattin_
I can tell you very briefly what----
_Doctor_
It is unnecessary.
_Mrs. Lattin_
But----
_Doctor_
I have been watching you.
[_He straightens up a little; a new dignity is in him. She gazes intently. She stretches out a hand, then withdraws it, hesitatingly, again._
_Mrs. Lattin_
You mean----?
_Doctor_
I knew--that you would send for me.
_Mrs. Lattin_
Ah! The medical journals! My case, of course--its peculiar--er--its hopelessness.
_Doctor_
There are no hopeless cases. (_He smiles. His voice is very gentle._)
_Mrs. Lattin_
(_Bewildered._) You are very ki--good. I thank you, already.
_Doctor_
(_Shaking his head quietly._) And you already--I see--are on the way to your recovery.
_Mrs. Lattin_
Recovery!
_Doctor_
Since you realise that you are very ill.
_Mrs. Lattin_
Oh--in that sense.
_Doctor_
In every sense.
[_She is more and more aware of something unusual in him. She keeps her gaze steadily on his face. She makes a gesture towards him, then hesitates. She seems on the point of saying more--speaking more freely._
_Mrs. Lattin_
I think--there must be a mistake somewhere. I don’t quite understand how you----
_Doctor_
There are no mistakes.
_Mrs. Lattin_
But you are sure it is _me_ you have come to see?
_Doctor_
It is you.
_Mrs. Lattin_
Mrs. Lattin?
[_He bows his head._
In this street and house--13 Bristol Square?
_Doctor_
This street, this square (_moves nearer and puts his hand upon her head_), this very house you occupy--for the moment.
[_She stares at him. They smile. She is aware of another meaning in his words. A touch of awe shows in her manner._
_Mrs. Lattin_
(_Low._) This--body?
_Doctor_
Which, for the moment, _you_--are occupying, Little Child.
_Mrs. Lattin_
(_Awed._) You know that name! My husband’s secret name!
_Doctor_
It is--_your_ name.
[_He moves back a step so that she can see the picture. One hand he stretches towards her as in blessing. Her eyes turn from the Egyptian night-scene to his face again._
_Mrs. Lattin_
(_Softly, to herself._) My little secret love-name. It is too marvellous--this. I am completely at a loss to--(_breaks off, as he looks down and smiles at her_).
_Doctor_
Love names truly always.
_Mrs. Lattin_
He … has … always … called me so.
_Doctor_
He has loved you truly--always.
_Mrs. Lattin_
(_Sitting up._) But you know everything in the world! Who are you--really? (_Awe increases in her._)
_Doctor_
I am the Doctor.
_Mrs. Lattin_
Doctor! The greatest calling in world! A doctor’s powers----
_Doctor_
Are, by rights, divine.
_Mrs. Lattin_
Life or death----
_Doctor_
Life _and_ death.
_Mrs. Lattin_
(_Hushed._) But--you are more than doctor; you are also--Priest.
_Doctor_
I am at your service.
_Mrs. Lattin_
(_Light breaking on her face. She stretches out a hand to him. He takes it._) To heal me. I feel great power pouring from you--into me. It is like wind and fire.
_Doctor_
Life is a wind and fire. It is life you feel. Your claim is great, because of your great wish, your true desire. You deserve. And I have come.
_Mrs. Lattin_
(_Puzzled._) Deserve! My great desire! My claim…!
_Doctor_
Your sickness is not of the heart, but of the soul. Your desire was prayer.
_Mrs. Lattin_
You have read my heart.
_Doctor_
Little Child, it is in your eyes.
_Mrs. Lattin_
And you know my very soul.
_Doctor_
Little Child, I am come to heal it.
_Mrs. Lattin_
Recovery! You said recovery. While I lie dying here by inches!
_Doctor_
You love.
_Mrs. Lattin_
With all my heart.
_Doctor_
And--soul?
[_He looks questioningly down at her with great tenderness. Her expression shows the dawn of comprehension._
_Mrs. Lattin_
(_Very low._) I love--wrongly--somewhere. I forgot--my soul. And I have wrecked him, wrecked his life, his work.
_Doctor_
(_To himself._) Again.
_Mrs. Lattin_
(_Not catching his word._) Is there recovery for _that_? Can you heal that?
_Doctor_
He does not question your love for him?
_Mrs. Lattin_
He is too big-hearted. He has sacrificed all for me. It is regret and remorse that kill me now--they bring death more quickly. If only I could understand!
_Doctor_
You shall.
_Mrs. Lattin_
(_Bitterly._) When it is too late. Can you give recovery for that? Can the forgiveness that I crave--his forgiveness--undo what has been? (_Hides her face and sobs._) I must die without forgiveness.
_Doctor_
Recovery begins with understanding.
_Mrs. Lattin_
I want _his_ forgiveness.
_Doctor_
You must--forgive yourself.
_Mrs. Lattin_
Oh, oh, I do not understand. My remorse goes with me even into the grave.
_Doctor_
Remorse brings weakness. The forgiveness of another affects that other only.
_Mrs. Lattin_
(_Looking up._) Yes?
_Doctor_
Understand. Then, without regret, go forward. To forgive yourself is--true forgiveness.
_Mrs. Lattin_
I feel something wonderful in you. Your words bring life again.… I.… There seems something I remember--remember almost--very dim and far away.… (_Her eye falls upon the Egyptian picture. She gazes fascinated at it._) The stars … the river … are rising, surely.…
_Doctor_
You remember--life. And life shall teach you this.
_Mrs. Lattin_
Life! My life! Oh, what is it rising in me? A curtain lifts. I see … myself. Ah, now it goes again.… The pain … the pain is awful! It all has been before somewhere, I know.… Have I done this before, then? If only I could see, I might understand.
_Doctor_
You shall see. Understanding shall bring recovery.
[_As he speaks he retires slowly backwards towards the open door. Her eyes remain fixed upon the picture._
_Mrs. Lattin_
Recovery! I half remember.… I begin to … understand…!
_Doctor_
The soul reaps ever its own harvest, for the soul is linked to all its past.
_Mrs. Lattin_
(_Faintly._) The past! _My_ past…! _Our_ past together.…
_Doctor_
Your pain and prayer may lift for once the curtain. Remembering, you shall understand. And, understanding, you shall learn to--forgive yourself.
[_A light falls on his face and figure by the door. Just before he disappears she tears her gaze away from the picture, and turns to him with outstretched hands. He raises his hands as though he were lifting a curtain and holding it up._
_Mrs. Lattin_
It lifts, it lifts! I hear wind among the palms, and lapping waters. A voice is whispering … “Little Child” … yet in another tongue.…
[_From beyond the door his last words reach her with a distant, half-chanting sound._
_Doctor_
Egypt! Where you began--with him. Your earliest life. Then other lives as well. See--and understand.
[_She sinks back exhausted. Her face is radiant through her tears. She has just strength enough to touch the pneumatic bell beside the bed._
CURTAIN