Part 16

WEDGECROFT. [_Smiling generously._] Well, it's a sensation to see you become arbiter. The Tories are owning they can't do without you. Percival likes you personally . . Townsend don't matter . . Cantelupe you buy with a price, I suppose . . Farrant you can put in your pocket. I tell you I think the man you may run up against is Blackborough.

TREBELL. No, all he wants is to be let look big . . and to have an idea given him when he's going to make a speech, which isn't often.

WEDGECROFT. Otherwise . . I suppose . . now I may go down to history as having been in your confidence. I'm very glad you've arrived.

TREBELL. [_With great seriousness._] I've sharpened myself as a weapon to this purpose.

WEDGECROFT. [_Kindly._] And you're sure of yourself, aren't you?

TREBELL. [_Turning his wrist._] Try.

WEDGECROFT. [_Slipping his doctor's fingers over the pulse._] Seventy, I should say.

TREBELL. I promise you it hasn't varied a beat these three big months.

WEDGECROFT. Well, I wish it had. Perfect balance is most easily lost. How do you know you've the power of recovery? . . and it's that gets one up in the morning day by day.

TREBELL. Is it? My brain works steadily on . . hasn't failed me yet. I keep it well fed. [_He breathes deeply._] But I'm not sure one shouldn't have been away from England for five years instead of five weeks . . to come back to a job like this with a fresh mind. D'you know why really I went back on the Liberals over this question? Not because they wanted the church money for their pensions . . but because all they can see in Disestablishment is destruction. Any fool can destroy! I'm not going to let a power like the Church get loose from the State. A thirteen hundred years' tradition of service . . and all they can think of is to cut it adrift!

WEDGECROFT. I think the Church is moribund.

TREBELL. Oh, yes, of course you do . . you sentimental agnostic anarchist. Nonsense! The supernatural's a bit blown upon . . till we re-discover what it means. But it's not essential. Nor is the Christian doctrine. Put a Jesuit in a corner and shut the door and he'll own that. No . . the tradition of self-sacrifice and fellowship in service for its own sake . . that's the spirit we've to capture and keep.

WEDGECROFT. [_Really struck._] A secular Church!

TREBELL. [_With reasoning in his tone._] Well . . why not? Listen here. In drafting an act of Parliament one must alternately imagine oneself God Almighty and the most ignorant prejudiced little blighter who will be affected by what's passed. God says: Let's have done with Heaven and Hell . . it's the Earth that shan't pass away. Why not turn all those theology mongers into doctors or schoolmasters?

WEDGECROFT. As to doctors--

TREBELL. Quite so, you naturally prejudiced blighter. That priestcraft don't need re-inforcing.

WEDGECROFT. It needs recognition.

TREBELL. What! It's the only thing most people believe in. Talk about superstition! However, there's more life in you. Therefore it's to be schoolmasters.

WEDGECROFT. How?

TREBELL. Listen again, young man. In the youth of the world, when priests were the teachers of men . . .

WEDGECROFT. [_Not to be preached at._] And physicians of men.

TREBELL. Shut up.

WEDGECROFT. If there's any real reform going, I want my profession made into a state department. I won't shut up for less.

TREBELL. [_Putting this aside with one finger._] I'll deal with you later. There's still Youth in the world in another sense; but the priests haven't found out the difference yet, so they're wasting most of their time.

WEDGECROFT. Religious education won't do now-a-days.

TREBELL. What's Now-a-days? You're very dull, Gilbert.

WEDGECROFT. I'm not duller than the people who will have to understand your scheme.

TREBELL. They won't understand it. I shan't explain to them that education is religion, and that those who deal in it are priests without any laying on of hands.

WEDGECROFT. No matter what they teach?

TREBELL. No . . the matter is how they teach it. I see schools in the future, Gilbert, not built next to the church, but on the site of the church.

WEDGECROFT. Do you think the world is grown up enough to do without dogma?

TREBELL. Yes, I do.

WEDGECROFT. What! . . and am I to write my prescriptions in English?

TREBELL. Yes, you are.

WEDGECROFT. Lord save us! I never thought to find you a visionary.

TREBELL. Isn't it absurd to think that in a hundred years we shall be giving our best brains and the price of them not to training grown men into the discipline of destruction . . not even to curing the ills which we might be preventing . . but to teaching our children. There's nothing else to be done . . nothing else matters. But it's work for a priesthood.

WEDGECROFT. [_Affected; not quite convinced._] Do you think you can buy a tradition and transmute it?

TREBELL. Don't mock at money.

WEDGECROFT. I never have.

TREBELL. But you speak of it as an end not as a means. That's unfair.

WEDGECROFT. I speaks as I finds.

TREBELL. I'll buy the Church, not with money, but with the promise of new life. [_A certain rather gleeful cunning comes over him._] It'll only look like a dose of reaction at first . . Sectarian Training Colleges endowed to the hilt.

WEDGECROFT. What'll the Nonconformists say?

TREBELL. Bribe them with the means of equal efficiency. The crux of the whole matter will be in the statutes I'll force on those colleges.

WEDGECROFT. They'll want dogma.

TREBELL. Dogma's not a bad thing if you've power to adapt it occasionally.

WEDGECROFT. Instead of spending your brains in explaining it. Yes, I agree.

TREBELL. [_With full voice._] But in the creed I'll lay down as unalterable there shall be neither Jew nor Greek . . What do you think of St. Paul, Gilbert?

WEDGECROFT. I'd make him the head of a college.

TREBELL. I'll make the Devil himself head of a college, if he'll undertake to teach honestly all he knows.

WEDGECROFT. And he'll conjure up Comte and Robespierre for you to assist in this little _rechauffee_ of their schemes.

TREBELL. Hullo! Comte I knew about. Have I stolen from Robespierre too?

WEDGECROFT. [_Giving out the epigram with an air._] Property to him who can make the best use of it.

TREBELL. And then what we must do is to give the children power over their teachers?

_Now he is comically enigmatic._ WEDGECROFT _echoes him_.

WEDGECROFT. And what exactly do you mean by that?

TREBELL. [_Serious again._] How positive a pedagogue would you be if you had to prove your cases and justify your creed every century or so to the pupils who had learnt just a little more than you could teach them? Give power to the future, my friend . . not to the past. Give responsibility . . even if you give it for your own discredit. What's beneath trust deeds and last wills and testaments, and even acts of Parliament and official creeds? Fear of the verdict of the next generation . . fear of looking foolish in their eyes. Ah, we . . doing our best now . . must be ready for every sort of death. And to provide the means of change and disregard of the past is a secret of statesmanship. Presume that the world will come to an end every thirty years if it's not reconstructed. Therefore give responsibility . . give responsibility . . give the children power.

WEDGECROFT. [_Disposed to whistle._] Those statutes will want some framing.

TREBELL. [_Relapsing to a chuckle._] There's an incidental change to foresee. Disappearance of the parson into the schoolmaster . . and the Archdeacon into the Inspector . . and the Bishop into--I rather hope he'll stick to his mitre, Gilbert.

WEDGECROFT. Some Ruskin will arise and make him.

TREBELL. [_As he paces the room and the walls of it fade away to him._] What a church could be made of the best brains in England, sworn only to learn all they could teach what they knew without fear of the future or favour to the past . . sworn upon their honour as seekers after truth, knowingly to tell no child a lie. It will come.

WEDGECROFT. A priesthood of women too? There's the tradition of service with them.

TREBELL. [_With the sourest look yet on his face._] Slavery . . not quite the same thing. And the paradox of such slavery is that they're your only tyrants.

[_At this moment the bell of the telephone upon the table rings. He goes to it talking the while._]

One has to be very optimistic not to advocate the harem. That's simple and wholesome . . Yes?

KENT _comes in_.

KENT. Does it work?

TREBELL. [_Slamming down the receiver._] You and your new toy! What is it?

KENT. I'm not sure about the plugs of it . . I thought I'd got them wrong. Mrs. O'Connell has come to see Miss Trebell, who is out, and she says will we ask you if any message has been left for her.

TREBELL. No. Oh, about dinner? Well, she's round at Mrs. Farrant's.

KENT. I'll ring them up.

_He goes back into his room to do so leaving_ TREBELL'S _door open. The two continue their talk._

TREBELL. My difficulties will be with Percival.

WEDGECROFT. Not over the Church.

TREBELL. You see I must discover how keen he'd be on settling the Education quarrel, once and for all . . what there is left of it.

WEDGECROFT. He's not sectarian.

TREBELL. It'll cost him his surplus. When'll he be up and about?

WEDGECROFT. Not for a week or more.

TREBELL. [_Knitting his brow._] And I've to deal with Cantelupe. Curious beggar, Gilbert.

WEDGECROFT. Not my sort. He'll want some dealing with over your bill as introduced to me.

TREBELL. I've not cross-examined company promoters for ten years without learning how to do business with a professional high churchman.

WEDGECROFT. Providence limited . . eh?

_They are interrupted by_ MRS. O'CONNELL'S _appearance in the doorway. She is rather pale, very calm; but there is pain in her eyes and her voice is unnaturally steady._

AMY. Your maid told me to come up and I'm interrupting business . . I thought she was wrong.

TREBELL. [_With no trace of self-consciousness._] Well . . how are you, after this long time?

AMY. How do you do? [_Then she sees_ WEDGECROFT _and has to control a shrinking from him_.] Oh!

WEDGECROFT. How are you, Mrs. O'Connell?

TREBELL. Kent is telephoning to Frances. He knows where she is.

AMY. How are you, Dr. Wedgecroft? [_then to_ TREBELL.] Did you have a good holiday? London pulls one to pieces wretchedly. I shall give up living here at all.

WEDGECROFT. You look very well.

AMY. Do I!

TREBELL. A very good holiday. Sit down . . he won't be a minute.

_She sits on the nearest chair._

AMY. You're not ill . . interviewing a doctor?

TREBELL. The one thing Wedgecroft's no good at is doctoring. He keeps me well by sheer moral suasion.

KENT _comes out of his room and is off downstairs_.

TREBELL _calls to him_.

TREBELL. Mrs. O'Connell's here.

KENT. Oh! [_He comes back and into the room._] Miss Trebell hasn't got there yet.

WEDGECROFT _has suddenly looked at his watch_.

WEDGECROFT. I must fly. Good bye, Mrs. O'Connell.

AMY. [_Putting her hand, constrained by its glove, into his open hand._] I am always a little afraid of you.

WEDGECROFT. That isn't the feeling a doctor wants to inspire.

KENT. [_To_ TREBELL.] David Evans--

TREBELL. Evans?

KENT. The reverend one . . is downstairs and wants to see you.

WEDGECROFT. [_As he comes to them._] Hampstead Road Tabernacle . . Oh, the mammon of righteousness!

TREBELL. Shut up! How long have I before Lord Charles--?

KENT. Only ten minutes.

MRS. O'CONNELL _goes to sit at the big table, and apparently idly takes a sheet of paper to scribble on_.

TREBELL. [_Half thinking, half questioning._] He's a man I can say nothing to politely.

WEDGECROFT. I'm off to Percival's now. Then I've another case and I'm due back at twelve. If there's anything helpful to say I'll look in again for two minutes . . not more.

TREBELL. You're a good man.

WEDGECROFT. [_As he goes._] Congratulations, Kent.

KENT. [_Taking him to the stairs._] Thank you very much.

AMY. [_Beckoning with her eyes._] What's this, Mr. Trebell?

TREBELL. Eh? I beg your pardon.

_He goes behind her and reads over her shoulder what she has written._ KENT _comes back_.

KENT. Shall I bring him up here?

TREBELL _looks up and for a moment stares at his secretary rather sharply, then speaks in a matter-of-fact voice_.

TREBELL. See him yourself, downstairs. Talk to him for five minutes . . find out what he wants. Tell him it will be as well for the next week or two if he can say he hasn't seen me.

KENT. Yes.

_He goes._ TREBELL _follows him to the door which he shuts. Then he turns to face_ AMY, _who is tearing up the paper she wrote on_.

TREBELL. What is it?

AMY. [_Her steady voice breaking, her carefully calculated control giving way._] Oh Henry . . Henry!

TREBELL. Are you in trouble?

AMY. You'll hate me, but . . oh, it's brutal of you to have been away so long.

TREBELL. Is it with your husband?

AMY. Perhaps. Oh, come nearer to me . . do.

TREBELL. [_Coming nearer without haste or excitement._] Well? [_Her eyes are closed._] My dear girl, I'm too busy for love-making now. If there are any facts to be faced, let me have them . . quite quickly.

_She looks up at him for a moment; then speaks swiftly and sharply as one speaks of disaster._

AMY. There's a danger of my having a child . . your child . . some time in April. That's all.

TREBELL. [_A sceptic who has seen a vision._] Oh . . it's impossible.

AMY. [_Flashing at him, revengefully._] Why?

TREBELL. [_Brought to his mundane self._] Well . . are you sure?

AMY. [_In sudden agony._] D'you think I want it to be true? D'you think I--? You don't know what it is to have a thing happening in spite of you.

TREBELL. [_His face set in thought._] Where have you been since we met?

AMY. Not to Ireland . . I haven't seen Justin for a year.

TREBELL. All the easier for you not to see him for another year.

AMY. That wasn't what you meant.

TREBELL. It wasn't . . but never mind.

_They are silent for a moment . . miles apart. . Then she speaks dully._

AMY. We do hate each other . . don't we!

TREBELL. Nonsense. Let's think of what matters.

AMY. [_Aimlessly._] I went to a man at Dover . . picked him out of the directory . . didn't give my own name . . pretended I was off abroad. He was a kind old thing . . said it was all most satisfactory. Oh, my God!

TREBELL. [_He goes to bend over her kindly._] Yes, you've had a torturing month or two. That's been wrong, I'm sorry.

AMY. Even now I have to keep telling myself that it's so . . otherwise I couldn't understand it. Any more than one really believes one will ever die . . one doesn't believe that, you know.

TREBELL. [_On the edge of a sensation that is new to him._] I am told that a man begins to feel unimportant from this moment forward. Perhaps it's true.

AMY. What has it to do with you anyhow? We don't belong to each other. How long were we together that night? Half an hour! You didn't seem to care a bit until after you'd kissed me and . . this is an absurd consequence.

TREBELL. Nature's a tyrant.

AMY. Oh, it's my punishment . . I see that well enough . . for thinking myself so clever . . forgetting my duty and religion . . not going to confession, I mean. [_Then hysterically._] God can make you believe in Him when he likes, can't he?

TREBELL. [_With comfortable strength._] My dear girl, this needs your pluck. [_And he sits by her._] All we have to do is to prevent it being found out.

AMY. Yes . . the scandal would smash you, wouldn't it?

TREBELL. There isn't going to be any scandal.

AMY. No . . if we're careful. You'll tell me what to do, won't you? Oh, it's a relief to be able to talk about it.

TREBELL. For one thing, you must take care of yourself and stop worrying.

_It soothes her to feel that he is concerned; but it is not enough to be soothed._

AMY. Yes, I wouldn't like to have been the means of smashing you, Henry . . especially as you don't care for me.

TREBELL. I intend to care for you.

AMY. Love me, I mean. I wish you did . . a little; then perhaps I shouldn't feel so degraded.

TREBELL. [_A shade impatiently, a shade contemptuously._] I can say I love you if that'll make things easier.

AMY. [_More helpless than ever._] If you'd said it at first I should be taking it for granted . . though it wouldn't be any more true, I daresay, than now . . when I should know you weren't telling the truth.

TREBELL. Then I'd do without so much confusion.

AMY. Don't be so heartless.

TREBELL. [_As he leaves her._] We seem to be attaching importance to such different things.

AMY. [_Shrill even at a momentary desertion._] What do you mean? I want affection now just as I want food. I can't do without it . . I can't reason things out as you can. D'you think I haven't tried? [_Then in sudden rebellion._] Oh, the physical curse of being a woman . . no better than any savage in this condition . . worse off than an animal. It's unfair.

TREBELL. Never mind . . you're here now to hand me half the responsibility, aren't you?

AMY. As if I could! If I have to lie through the night simply shaking with bodily fear much longer . . I believe I shall go mad.

_This aspect of the matter is meaningless to him. He returns to the practical issue._

TREBELL. There's nobody that need be suspecting, is there?

AMY. My maid sees I'm ill and worried and makes remarks . . only to me so far. Don't I look a wreck? I nearly ran away when I saw Dr. Wedgecroft . . some of these men are so clever.

TREBELL. [_Calculating._] Someone will have to be trusted.

AMY. [_Burrowing into her little tortured self again._] And I ought to feel as if I had done Justin a great wrong . . but I don't. I hate you now; now and then. I was being myself. You've brought me down. I feel worthless.

_The last word strikes him. He stares at her._

TREBELL. Do you?

AMY. [_Pleadingly._] There's only one thing I'd like you to tell me, Henry . . it isn't much. That night we were together . . it was for a moment different to everything that has ever been in your life before, wasn't it?

TREBELL. [_Collecting himself as if to explain to a child._] I must make you understand . . I must get you to realise that for a little time to come you're above the law . . above even the shortcomings and contradictions of a man's affection.

AMY. But let us have one beautiful memory to share.

TREBELL. [_Determined she shall face the cold logic of her position._] Listen. I look back on that night as one looks back on a fit of drunkenness.

AMY. [_Neither understanding nor wishing to; only shocked and hurt._] You beast.

TREBELL. [_With bitter sarcasm._] No, don't say that. Won't it comfort you to think of drunkenness as a beautiful thing? There are precedents enough . . classic ones.

AMY. You mean I might have been any other woman.

TREBELL. [_Quite inexorable._] Wouldn't any other woman have served the purpose . . and is it less of a purpose because we didn't know we had it? Does my unworthiness then . . if you like to call it so . . make you unworthy now? I must make you see that it doesn't.

AMY. [_Petulantly hammering at her idee fixe._] But you didn't love me . . and you don't love me.

TREBELL. [_Keeping his patience._] No . . only within the last five minutes have I really taken the smallest interest in you. And now I believe I'm half jealous. Can you understand that? You've been talking a lot of nonsense about your emotions and your immortal soul. Don't you see it's only now that you've become a person of some importance to the world . . and why?

AMY. [_Losing her patience, childishly._] What do you mean by the World? You don't seem to have any personal feelings at all. It's horrible you should have thought of me like that. There has been no other man than you that I would have let come anywhere near me . . not for more than a year.

_He realises that she will never understand._

TREBELL. My dear girl, I'm sorry to be brutal. Does it matter so much to you that I should have =wished= to be the father of your child?

AMY. [_Ungracious but pacified by his change of tone._] It doesn't matter now.

TREBELL. [_Friendly still._] On principle I don't make promises. But I think I can promise you that if you keep your head and will keep your health, this shall all be made as easy for you as if everyone could know. And let's think what the child may mean to you . . just the fact of his birth. Nothing to me, of course! Perhaps that accounts for the touch of jealousy. I've forfeited my rights because I hadn't honourable intentions. You can't forfeit yours. Even if you never see him and he has to grow up among strangers . . just to have had a child must make a difference to you. Of course, it may be a girl. I wonder.

_As he wanders on so optimistically she stares at him and her face changes. She realises . ._

AMY. Do you expect me to go through with this? Henry! . . I'd sooner kill myself.

_There is silence between them. He looks at her as one looks at some unnatural thing. Then after a moment he speaks, very coldly._

TREBELL. Oh . . indeed. Don't get foolish ideas into your head. You've no choice now . . no reasonable choice.

AMY. [_Driven to bay; her last friend an enemy._] I won't go through with it.

TREBELL. It hasn't been so much the fear of scandal then--

AMY. That wouldn't break my heart. You'd marry me, wouldn't you? We could go away somewhere. I could be very fond of you, Henry.

TREBELL. [_Marvelling at these tangents._] Marry you! I should murder you in a week.

_This sounds only brutal to her; she lets herself be shamed._

AMY. You've no more use for me than the use you've made of me.

TREBELL. [_Logical again._] Won't you realise that there's a third party to our discussion . . that I'm of no importance beside him and you of very little. Think of the child.

AMY _blazes into desperate rebellion_.

AMY. There's no child because I haven't chosen there shall be and there shan't be because I don't choose. You'd have me first your plaything and then Nature's, would you?

TREBELL. [_A little abashed._] Come now, you knew what you were about.

AMY. [_Thinking of those moments._] Did I? I found myself wanting you, belonging to you suddenly. I didn't stop to think and explain. But are we never to be happy and irresponsible . . never for a moment?

TREBELL. Well . . one can't pick and choose consequences.

AMY. Your choices in life have made you what you want to be, haven't they? Leave me mine.

TREBELL. But it's too late to argue like that.

AMY. If it is, I'd better jump into the Thames. I've thought of it.

_He considers how best to make a last effort to bring her to her senses. He sits by her._

TREBELL. Amy . . if you were my wife--

AMY. [_Unresponsive to him now._] I was Justin's wife, and I went away from him sooner than bear him children. Had I the right to choose or had I not?

TREBELL. [_Taking another path._] Shall I tell you something I believe? If we were left to choose, we should stand for ever deciding whether to start with the right foot or the left. We blunder into the best things in life. Then comes the test . . have we faith enough to go on . . to go through with the unknown thing?

AMY. [_So bored by these metaphysics._] Faith in what?

TREBELL. Our vitality. I don't give a fig for beauty, happiness, or brains. All I ask of myself is . . can I pay Fate on demand?

AMY. Yes . . in imagination. But I've got physical facts to face.

_But he has her attention now and pursues the advantage._

TREBELL. Very well then . . let the meaning of them go. Look forward simply to a troublesome illness. In a little while you can go abroad quietly and wait patiently. We're not fools and we needn't find fools to trust in. Then come back to England . . .

AMY. And forget. That seems simple enough, doesn't it?

TREBELL. If you don't want the child let it be mine . . not yours.

AMY. [_Wondering suddenly at this bond between them._] Yours! What would you do with it?

TREBELL. [_Matter-of-fact._] Provide for it, of course.

AMY. Never see it, perhaps.