The Complete Poems and Plays, 1909-1950

  But it shall be proved. The truth has come out.

  It’s Colby. Colby is my lost child!

  SIR CLAUDE. What? Your child, Elizabeth? What on earth makes you think so?

  LADY ELIZABETH. I must see this Mrs. Guzzard. I must confront her.

  This couldn’t possibly be a coincidence.

  It seems incredible, doesn’t it, Claude?

  And yet it would be still more incredible

  If it were only a coincidence.

  Perhaps I ought not to believe it yet,

  Perhaps it is wrong of me to feel so sure,

  But it seems that Providence has brought you back to me,

  And you, Claude, and Eggerson have been the instruments.

  I must be right. Claude, tell me I am right.

  SIR CLAUDE. But Elizabeth, what has led you to believe

  That Colby is your son?

  LADY ELIZABETH. Oh, I forgot

  In my excitement: you arrived the very moment

  When the truth dawned on me. Mrs. Guzzard!

  Claude, Colby was brought up by a Mrs. Guzzard.

  SIR CLAUDE. I know that. But why should that make him your son?

  LADY ELIZABETH. It’s the name I’ve been hunting for all these years —

  That, and the other name, Teddington:

  Mrs. Guzzard of Teddington. That was all I knew.

  Then Tony was killed, as you know, in Africa,

  And I had lost the name. Mrs. Guzzard.

  SIR CLAUDE. I’m beginning now to piece it together.

  You’ve been asking Colby about his family …

  LADY ELIZABETH. And when he mentioned Teddington, there was a faint echo —

  And then Mrs. Guzzard! It must be true.

  SIR CLAUDE. It is certainly a remarkable coincidence —

  If it is a coincidence. But I’m afraid, Elizabeth,

  What has happened is that, brooding on the past,

  You began to think of Colby as what your son would be,

  And then you began to see him as your son,

  And then — any name you heard would have seemed the right one.

  LADY ELIZABETH. Oh Claude, how can you be so sceptical!

  We must see this Mrs. Guzzard, and get her to confess it.

  SIR CLAUDE. I’m sorry, Elizabeth. If Mrs. Guzzard comes

  To make her confession, it will be very different

  From what you expect. I’m afraid, Colby,

  It seems to me that we must let her know the truth.

  COLBY. It seems to me … there is nothing for me —

  Absolutely nothing — for me to say about it.

  I must leave that to you.

  SIR CLAUDE. I should have told you one day.

  I’ve always loathed keeping such a thing from you.

  I see now I might as well have told you before,

  But I’d hoped — and now it seems a silly thought …

  What happens is so like what one had planned for,

  And yet such a travesty of all one’s plans —

  I’d hoped that you would become fond of Colby,

  And that he might come to take the place of your own child,

  If you got to know him first — and that you’d want to adopt him.

  LADY ELIZABETH. But of course I want to adopt him, Claude!

  That is, if one’s allowed to adopt one’s own child.

  SIR CLAUDE. That’s not what I meant. Elizabeth,

  Colby is my son.

  LADY ELIZABETH. Quite impossible, Claude!

  You have a daughter. Now you want a son.

  SIR CLAUDE. I’d never want to take your son away from you.

  Perhaps you have a son. But it isn’t Colby.

  I ought to have told you, years ago.

  I told you about Lucasta, and you told me

  About your own … misfortune. And I almost told you

  About Colby. I didn’t. For such a foolish reason.

  Absurd it sounds now. One child each —

  That seemed fair enough — though yours had been lost,

  And mine I couldn’t lose. But if I had another

  I thought you might think — ‘and how many more?’

  You might have suspected any number of children!

  That seems grotesque now. But it influenced me.

  And I found a better reason for keeping silent.

  I came to see how you longed for a son of your own,

  And I thought, I’ll wait for children of our own,

  And tell her then. And they never came.

  And now I regret the decision bitterly.

  I ought to have told you that I had a son.

  LADY ELIZABETH. But why do you think that Colby is your son?

  SIR CLAUDE. Colby is the son of Mrs. Guzzard’s sister,

  Who died when he was born. Mrs. Guzzard brought him up,

  And I provided for his education.

  I have watched him grow. And Mrs. Guzzard

  Knows he is my son.

  LADY ELIZABETH. But where were you, Claude,

  When Colby was born?

  SIR CLAUDE. Where was I? In Canada.

  My father had sent me on a business tour

  To learn about his overseas investments.

  LADY ELIZABETH. Then how do you know that the sister had a child?

  Perhaps Mrs. Guzzard invented the story….

  SIR CLAUDE. Why should she invent it? The child was expected.

  LADY ELIZABETH. In order to get money from you, perhaps.

  No, I shouldn’t say that. But she had a child

  Left on her hands. The father had died

  And she’d never been told the name of the mother;

  And the mother had forgotten the name of Mrs. Guzzard,

  And I was the mother and the child was Colby;

  And Mrs. Guzzard thought you would be happy

  To think you had a son, and would do well by him —

  Because you did care for the girl, didn’t you?

  SIR CLAUDE. Yes, I did care. Very much. I had never

  Been in love before.

  LADY ELIZABETH. Very well then.

  That is the way it must have happened.

  Oh, Claude, you know I’m rather weak in the head

  Though I try to be clever. Do try to help me.

  SIR CLAUDE. It could have happened. But I’m sure it didn’t.

  LADY ELIZABETH. Oh, Colby, doesn’t your instinct tell you?

  SIR CLAUDE. Yes, tell us everything that’s in your mind.

  I know this situation must be more of an agony

  To you, than it can be even to … us.

  COLBY. I only wish it was more acute agony:

  I don’t know whether I’ve been suffering or not

  During this conversation. I only feel … numb.

  If there’s agony, it’s part of a total agony

  Which I can’t begin to feel yet. I’m simply indifferent.

  And all the time that you’ve been talking

  I’ve only been thinking: ‘What does it matter

  Whose son I am?’ You don’t understand

  That when one has lived without parents, as a child,

  There’s a gap that never can be filled. Never.

  I like you both, I could even come to love you —

  But as friends … older friends. Neither, as a parent.

  I am sorry. But that’s why I say it doesn’t matter

  To me, which of you should be my parent.

  LADY ELIZABETH. But a mother, Colby, isn’t that different?

  There should always be a bond between mother and son,

  No matter how long they have lost each other.

  COLBY. No, Lady Elizabeth. The position is the same

  Or crueller. Suppose I am your son.

  Then it’s merely a fact. Better not know

  Than to know the fact and know it means nothing.

  At the time I was born, you might have been my mother,

  But y
ou chose not to be. I don’t blame you for that:

  God forbid! but we must take the consequences.

  At the time when I was born, your being my mother —

  If you are my mother — was a living fact.

  Now, it is a dead fact, and out of dead facts

  Nothing living can spring. Now, it is too late.

  I never wanted a parent till now —

  I never thought about it. Now, you have made me think,

  And I wish that I could have had a father and a mother.

  LADY ELIZABETH. Stop, Colby! Something has come to me.

  Claude! I don’t want to take away from you

  The son you thought was yours. And I know from what you said,

  That you would rather he was ours than only yours.

  Why should we make any further enquiries?

  Let us regard him as being our son:

  It won’t be the same as what we had wanted —

  But in some ways better! And prevent us both

  From making unreasonable claims upon you, Colby.

  It’s a good idea! Why should we not be happy,

  All of us? Already, Claude,

  I feel as if this brought us closer together.

  SIR CLAUDE. I should be contented with such an understanding;

  And indeed, it’s not so far from what I had intended.

  Could you accept us both in that way, Colby?

  COLBY. I can only say what I feel at the moment:

  And yet I believe I shall always feel the same.

  SIR CLAUDE. Well?

  COLBY. It would be easier, I think,

  To accept you both in the place of parents

  If neither of you could be. If it was pure fiction —

  One can live on a fiction — but not on such a mixture

  Of fiction and fact. Already, it’s been hard

  For me, who have never known the feelings of a son,

  To be disputed between two parents.

  But, if we followed your suggestion,

  I know, I know I should always be haunted

  By the miserable ghosts of the other parents!

  It’s strange enough to have two parents —

  But I should have four! What about those others?

  I should have to live with those ghosts, one indignant

  At being cheated of his — or her — parenthood,

  The other indignant at the imputation

  Of false parenthood. Both mocked at.

  SIR CLAUDE. Then what do you want, Colby? What do you want?

  Think of the future. When you marry

  You will want parents, for the sake of your children.

  COLBY. I don’t feel, tonight, that I ever want to marry.

  You may be right. I can’t take account of that.

  But now I want to know whose son I am.

  SIR CLAUDE. Then the first thing is: we must see Mrs. Guzzard.

  LADY ELIZABETH. Oh Claude! I am terribly sorry for you.

  I believe that if I had known of your … delusion

  I would never have undeceived you.

  SIR CLAUDE. And as for me,

  If I could have known what was going to happen,

  I would gladly have surrendered Colby to you.

  But we must see Mrs. Guzzard. I’ll arrange to get her here.

  LADY ELIZABETH. And I think you ought to get Eggerson as well.

  SIR CLAUDE [rising]. Oh, of course, Eggerson! He knows all about it.

  Let us say no more tonight. Now, Colby,

  Can you find some consolation at the piano?

  COLBY. I don’t think, tonight, the piano would help me:

  At the moment, I never want to touch it again.

  But there’s another reason. I must remind you

  About your speech for the Potters’ Company

  Tomorrow night. I must get to work on it.

  SIR CLAUDE. Tomorrow night. Must I go to that dinner

  Tomorrow night?

  COLBY. I was looking at your notes —

  Before you brought me into the conversation —

  And I found one note I couldn’t understand.

  ‘Reminiscent mood.’ I can’t develop that

  Unless you can tell me — reminiscent of what?

  SIR CLAUDE. Reminiscent of what? Reminiscent of what?

  ‘Tonight I feel in a reminiscent mood’ —

  Oh yes. To say something of my early ambitions

  To be a potter. Not that the Members

  Of the Potters’ Company know anything at all

  About ceramics … or any other art.

  No, I don’t think I shall be in a reminiscent mood.

  Cross that out. It would only remind me

  Of things that would surprise the Potters’ Company

  If I told them what I was really remembering.

  Come, Elizabeth.

  LADY ELIZABETH. My poor Claude!

  [Exeunt SIR CLAUDE and LADY ELIZABETH]

  CURTAIN

  Act Three

  The Business Room, as in Act 1. Several mornings later. SIR CLAUDE is moving chairs about. Enter LADY ELIZABETH.

  LADY ELIZABETH. Claude, what are you doing?

  SIR CLAUDE. Settling the places.

  It’s important, when you have a difficult meeting,

  To decide on the seating arrangements beforehand.

  I don’t think you and I should be near together.

  Will you sit there, beside the desk?

  LADY ELIZABETH. On the other side, with the light behind me:

  But won’t you be sitting at the desk yourself?

  SIR CLAUDE. No, that would look too formal. I thought it would be better

  To put Eggerson there, behind the desk.

  You see, I want him to be a sort of chairman.

  LADY ELIZABETH. That’s a good idea.

  SIR CLAUDE. On the other hand,

  We mustn’t look like a couple of barristers

  Ready to cross-examine a witness.

  It’s very awkward. We don’t want to start

  By offending Mrs. Guzzard. That’s why I thought

  That Eggerson should put the first questions.

  He’s very good at approaching a subject

  In a roundabout way. But where shall we place her?

  LADY ELIZABETH. Over there, with the light full on her:

  I want to be able to watch her expression.

  SIR CLAUDE. But not in this chair! She must have an armchair …

  LADY ELIZABETH. Not such a low one. Leave that in the corner

  For Colby. He won’t want to be conspicuous,

  Poor boy!

  SIR CLAUDE. After all, it was he who insisted

  On this … investigation. But perhaps you’re right.

  LADY ELIZABETH. Claude, I’ve been thinking things over and over —

  All through the night. I hardly slept at all.

  I wish that Colby, somehow, might prove to be your son

  Instead of mine. Really, I do!

  It would be so much fairer. If he is mine —

  As I am sure he is — then you never had a son;

  While, if he were yours … he could still take the place

  Of my son: and so he could be our son.

  Oh dear, what do I want? I should like him to be mine,

  But for you to believe that he is yours!

  So I hope Mrs. Guzzard will say he is your son

  And I needn’t believe her. I don’t believe in facts.

  You do. That is the difference between us.

  SIR CLAUDE. I’m not so sure of that. I’ve tried to believe in facts;

  And I’ve always acted as if I believed in them.

  I thought it was facts that my father believed in;