Collected Novels and Plays (58 page)

BOOK: Collected Novels and Plays
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CHARLES:

Ladies and gentleman: this is a play about birth.

(
Scene: A pleasant living room whose chief feature is red walls, arranged with a neatness that can mean only a party; it is furnished in no particular period but with good taste. There is a low sofa between the door
, R,
and window
, L,
concealed by Venetian blinds. In front of the sofa there is a low table with a bottle of wine and four glasses. There may be flowers in the room, a few books, and a Nativity

preferably
Picasso’s
Mother and Child—
above the sofa facing the audience.
)

(
As the curtain rises, MRS. CRANE, the first guest, is seated alone on the sofa; she is poised and congenial, on the brink of fifty. She rises, wanders about, inspects her makeup, fingernails, hair, and returns to the sofa at last as CHARLES enters, ushering in two more guests: MAX, the primitive painter, somewhat carelessly dressed, extremely young in appearance, carrying a portfolio; and MR. KNIGHT, slightly past thirty, but also with an unusually young,
though tired, expression. CHARLES himself looks uncomfortably like a man of distinction. In his first speech, he speaks as much to the audience as to any of the actors.
)

CHARLES:

I believe you all know one another. Mrs. Crane,

Our leading lady for the afternoon,

Who always makes these gatherings so pleasant.

My good friend Max, who not only paints
à ravir

But to my knowledge has no surname. And Mr. Knight.

Mr. Knight is a wizard; indeed, we are all wizards—

My dear Mrs. Crane, my good Max, you are wizards also,

And perhaps more fortunate in that you are

Comparatively unaware of your powers.

MAX:

Charles is the most embarrassing person I know.

MRS. C.:

It has been quite a while since I was here last, Charles,

And I shan’t say you should entertain more often—

I know you give your parties constantly

And I suppose it’s just as well I stay away

Occasionally—but really you might have asked me

Before you changed this room. I scarcely know it.

CHARLES:

You dislike it, of course?

MRS. C.:

Oh, no, except for the walls

Which make me think of …

MAX:

… Of the inside of the mouth!

Exactly! Oh I like them enormously now.

That red is exactly like the inside of the mouth.

You know, Charles, I have just discovered the mouth.

And I spent all of the past week painting Helen

With her mouth open and a background of orange trees.

I brought some sketches with me.

(
He unfastens portfolio.
)

Look at this one.

MRS. C.:

Gracious, what splendid teeth! You do have talent.

Don’t you agree, he has talent, Mr. Knight?

MAX:

I believe in painting only what I see.

Perhaps in these I have tried to be too precise.

MRS. C.:

But Max, they are lovely.

KNIGHT:

And it is precisely

This precision of yours, this splendid confidence

In your own eye, that makes your paintings good

And in the bargain unbelievable.

A painting is to the face it transforms as a balloon

Is to the hand that holds the string. The worthiness

Of art exists in this tenuous relation.

This will never disturb Max, he is a painter;

But you, Mrs. Crane, and Charles, and I, we are all

Doomed to walk the battlements of the abstract.

MRS. C.:

I’m sure you exaggerate. Who is coming today, Charles?

CHARLES:

He should be here any minute. His name is Raymond.

And allow me to express once more my wishes

As to your attitudes. There must be no argument

Among yourselves; for everything that takes place

Must happen through him, as actors assume credit

For the dazzling lines they speak. You have all attended

Enough of these parties to guess their limitations

That, once imposed, like masks, are not discarded

Till the play ends, sometimes not even then.

Remember also that he is not a wizard.

The single purpose of this celebration

Is that Raymond meet you and opaquely gather

Your more than luminous importance.
You
know—

Give him a cigarette, a glass of wine;

Ask him your riddles: What is your home town?

How old are you? Were you a happy child?

He’s not, however, applying for a job.

I’ll fetch him now. Let me wish you in advance

A congenial hour. (
Exit.
)

MAX:

It always has such a flavor of excitement.

Charles should have been a seventeenth-century king.

MRS. C.:

The glamour wore off rather suddenly for me.

I don’t mind admitting the only reason I come

Is from a sense of obligation to Charles.

KNIGHT:

Obligation, indeed! You deceive yourself, Mrs. Crane.

MRS. C.:

That is why I am here. If anyone is deceiving …

I should like just once, however, to be absent.

We might as well, for that matter, be puppets

Or wooden ducks on a lake that might be real.

KNIGHT:

Though you will never stay away, if once you should keep

From coming when Charles needs you, it would be

Impossible to estimate the confusion

And helplessness and anguish of our guest.

MRS. C.:

Are you trying to be clever?

KNIGHT:

No.

MRS. C.:

Thank you.

MAX:

Do you mean to say you don’t like these afternoons?

It’s funny, but there’s nothing I enjoy

As much as being here. As a little boy

I sailed in a glass-bottomed boat. There were circus tunes

Across the water. I always think of them here.

KNIGHT:

This is because you are the spirit of change.

I am Heraclitus barefoot in the streams,

But you are the flattered current. I do not see change,

I create it. I do not see it because,

Like music to a deaf man, it is all

I can believe. Therefore when I come here …

When I come here, I come with a single promise.

I swear that in this room I will not explain

Myself, I will not analyze, I will

Not even speak. Once here, I am made to speak,

I am made to reveal.

(
He has risen in agitation.
)

MRS. C.:

But you are the wizard, Charles said.

KNIGHT:

That, like change, is what I cannot bear.

How dare we wear these masks before we accept

What we are masking!

MAX:

I hear them coming. Sit down.

KNIGHT:

I will not speak.

MAX:

So fascinating!

MRS. C.:

I feel

So sorry for them, they could be my own children.

(
Enter CHARLES with RAYMOND, a young man rather ill at ease.
)

CHARLES:

Raymond, I should like you to meet Mrs. Crane,

Max …

MAX:

I have no last name.

CHARLES:

… And Mr. Knight.

(
MRS. CRANE and MAX shake hands with RAYMOND. There is a pause before KNIGHT rises, crosses, shakes hands and speaks.
)

KNIGHT:

I am very pleased to meet you, Raymond.

CHARLES:

I hope you don’t mind if I leave you now.

I will see you later, Raymond, I am sure.

RAYMOND:

Would you mind before you go telling me what …?

CHARLES:

You will have to excuse me now. (
Exit.
)

MRS. C.:

You will have to excuse Charles. He’s so often that way.

I don’t suppose you’ve known him very long;

Tell me, where did you meet him?

RAYMOND:

We shared a taxi.

MAX (
to KNIGHT
):

I’ll never get over being amazed at Charles.

MRS. C.:

Charles always meets such interesting people.

I don’t know what you do, of course, but Max

Is a painter and Mr. Knight is a magician.

I’m nobody in particular, but Charles

Always invites me because he knows how much

I like to meet his interesting friends.

Won’t you sit down? How old are you, Raymond?

RAYMOND:

Nineteen.

MAX:

Happy Birthday! (
Pause.
)

RAYMOND:

I don’t know what you mean by that. My birthday

Is not until October twenty-first.

MAX:

No please don’t spoil the party; we were told

This was your birthday. We’re all here today

To drink your health. Many happy returns!

(
MAX has by this time opened the wine, poured it, and offered glasses to MRS. CRANE and RAYMOND, at the end of the speech. He now takes a glass to KNIGHT, who refuses it.
)

RAYMOND:

Who told you it was my birthday? Was it Charles?

MRS. C.:

Yes, but good heavens, we should know his tricks by now.

We can all have a glass of wine at any rate

(
With not altogether forced sentiment.
)

And drink to your birthday on October twenty-first

And to all birthdays in an aging world.

That’s all one ever drinks to.

RAYMOND (
who does not drink
):

Who is Charles?

MAX:

Charles is the most wonderful person in the world.

He’s simply rather hard to understand.

To your health, Raymond.

(
Drinks.
)

RAYMOND:

But who is he, what does he do?

KNIGHT:

I am obliged to intervene.

Now really, Max, you can be dreadfully gauche.

Today is your birthday in the sense that every day

Is a birthday, every minute the minute of one’s birth.

You have been asked here, this celebration has been arranged,

Only that you may begin to realize this.

RAYMOND:

Thank you for being so explicit.

KNIGHT:

I cannot speak plainly to you: I cannot speak plainly

To myself.

MRS. C.:

I can speak plainly, Raymond. Today

Is your birthday. You must accept that to begin with.

Everything that we may say …

RAYMOND:

But it’s not true.

My birthday’s not today.

MRS. C.:

Please let me finish.

Everything that we may say this afternoon

Is of the greatest importance. We are here

Because we are all so deeply involved in you.

Do you understand, will you take my word for it?

RAYMOND (
indicating them all
):

Who are you?

MAX:

We are you. (
Pause.
) I hope you’re not disappointed.

(
Before RAYMOND can speak, KNIGHT begins.
)

KNIGHT:

Raymond, have you ever traveled on the sea?

RAYMOND:

I think we went to Europe when I was nine.

KNIGHT:

The waters are of different colors; the shallows

Pink and green where the reefs are and fish look

Like colored advertisements; where the ocean is grey,

Grey-black, fish lunge like weapons; but far out

In the purple Gulf Stream, blue, it is as though

One were pulling up a cluster of angels seen

Through the reverse end of a telescope.

Sailors, too, with their sense of stylization,

Tattoo blue hips on their arms, rococo veins,

Calling them images of the sea. There are

Innumerable relations, all quite useless.

A drop of human blood, as you will remember,

In chemical proportion is equivalent

To simple seawater.

MAX:

That will be my next painting.

RAYMOND:

You were explaining why I should be here.

KNIGHT:

I was explaining nothing, nothing. Communication

Is a peeling leprosy. I was speaking of the sea.

MAX:

Isn’t it splendid? I told you it would be.

MRS. C:

Raymond, listen to me.

RAYMOND:

What is it now?

MRS. C.:

What are your memories? I always feel

A person is what he remembers. We

Must know who you are. Tell us about yourself.

RAYMOND:

There’s not too much. I like to go horseback riding.

My father always laughed when I fell off.

(
He is embarrassed.
)

When I was a child I walked between two hedges,

It was late September and there had been a frost,

I remember finding a robin’s egg in the grass

And picking it up. But when I turned it over

The bird’s foot was sticking through the shell.

It was all frozen, of course. I don’t know why

I bother to tell you, except that I’ve never forgotten it.

MRS. C.:

My poor child.

RAYMOND:

There was one room in our house

I never saw. It was just an empty room.

My cousin went inside and laughed at me

Because I was afraid. I hadn’t been afraid,

I simply didn’t want to go inside.

But I threw a chestnut once and broke the window.

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