A PASSING IN JUNE, 1915
PROLOGUE
SCENE. The parlour of an Auberge.
PERSONS. A stoist motherly MADAME, a wrinkled fatherly MONSIEUR, and a plain but pleasant MA'MSELLE. Some English soldiers drinking. CECIL is talking in French to MONSIEUR, and they are all very friendly.
MADAME. Alors, vous n'avez pas encore été aux tranchées?
CECIL. Mais non, Madame, peut-être ce soir.
(MONSIEUR and MADAME exchange glances. CECIL rises to go.)
CECIL. À Jeudi, Monsieur, Madame, Ma'mselle.
MONSIEUR, MADAME, AND MA'MSELLE (in chorus). À Jeudi, Monsieur.
MADAME (earnestly). Bon courage, Monsieur!
(Curtain)
ACT I. DAWN
CECIL is discovered lying behind a wall of sandbags. On one side are the sandbags, and on the other an idyllic spring scene, with flowers and orchards seen in the half-light of a spring morning. The dawn breaks gently, and soon bullets begin to ping through the air, flattening themselves against the sandbags, or passing over CECIL's head. He wakes and yawns, and then composes himself with his eyes open.
Enter Allegorical personages: FATHER SUN, MOTHER EARTH, and a chorus of GRASSES, POPPIES, CORNFLOWERS, RAGGED ROBINS, DAISIES, BEETLES, BEES, FLIES, and insects of all kinds.
FATHER SUN.
Wake, children, rub your eyes,
Up and dance and sing and play,
Not a cloud is in the skies;
This is going to be my day.
See the tiny dew-drop glisten
In my glancing golden ray;
See the shadows dancing, listen
To the lark so blithe and gay.
Up, children, dance and play,
This is my own festal day.
FLOWERS, BEETLES, ETC.
Dance and sing
In a ring,
Naughty clouds are chased away;
Oh what fun,
Father Sun
Is going to shine the whole long day.
MOTHER EARTH. That's right, children. This is the day to grow in; but don't forget to come home to dinner; I've got such a nice dinner for you.
(The children dance away delightedly, while CECIL watches them, fascinated.)
MOTHER EARTH. What's this absurd young man doing, sitting behind that ugly wall? Why don't he sit under a tree if he must sit?
FATHER SUN. Oh, he's a lunatic! Must be.
(RANDOM BULLET jumps over the sandbags into the dug-out, and jibbers impotently at CECIL, who glances up at him with a look of disgust.)
RANDOM BULLET. Ping! Ping. It's me he's afraid of. He daren't stir a yard from this wall, or I'd tear his brains out. Ping! Ping!
MOTHER EARTH. Who are you, Monster?
RANDOM BULLET. I'm Random Bullet. I am a monster, I am! Ping!
MOTHER EARTH. Who sent you, anyway?
RANDOM BULLET. Why, the idiots behind the other wall, over there! Sometimes I jump at them, and sometimes I jump over here. I don't care which way it is; but I like tearing their brains out, I do. I don't care which lot it is.
MOTHER EARTH. What madness!
FATHER SUN (indignantly). On my day too!
RANDOM BULLET. Mad! I should think they were! Never mind, they give me some fun! Ping! So long, I'm off, going to jump at the other fellows, back in a second if you like to wait.
(RANDOM BULLET jumps out of sight, and MOTHER EARTH and FATHER SUN move disgustedly away.)
CECIL (getting up). Mad! By God, we are mad! Curse the war! Curse the fools who started it! Why did I ever come out here? What a way to spend a morning in June!
(Curtain.)
ACT II. MIDDAY
SCENE. The same. CECIL as before, but sweltering in the sun. Enter the SPIRIT OF THIRST.
THIRST. Oh for a drink! Water, anything! I could drink a bath full. What a place to spend a June day in! When one thinks of all the drinks one might be having, it is really infuriating. Gad! The very thought of 'em makes me feel quite poetic! Think of the great barrels of still cider in cool Devonshire cellars! Think of the sour refreshing wine we used to get in Italy! And the iced cocktails of Colombo! And Pimm's No. 1 in the City. Anywhere but here it's a pleasure to be a Thirst; but here! Good Lord, it will send me off my head. How would a bath go now, old chap? By God, don't you wish you were back in your canoe, drawn up among the rushes near Islip, and you just going to plunge into the cool waters of the Char? Or think of that day you bathed in the deep still pool at the foot of the Tamarin Falls, with the water crashing down above you, into the deep shady chasm. Even a dip in the sea at Mount Lavinia wouldn't be bad now,—or, better still, a dive into Como from a rowboat; you remember that hot summer we went to Como? I'll tell you another thing that wouldn't go down badly either. Do you remember a great bowl of strawberries and cream with a huge ice in it, that you had the day before you left school, after that hot bike ride to Leamington? Not bad, was it?
CECIL (fiercely). Shut up, you beast! Oh, curse this idiotic war! Why are we such fools?
(Curtain.)
ACT III. LATE AFTERNOON
SCENE. As before. CECIL is discovered reading a letter from home.
CECIL (to himself). Tom dead. Good Lord! What times we have had together! Where are all the good fellows I used to know? Half of them dead, and the rest condemned to die! No more yachting on the broads! No more convivial evenings at the Troc.! No more long nights spinning yarns in Tom's old rooms in the Temple! Curse this blasted war that robs one of everything worth having, that dulls every sense of decency and kills all feeling for beauty, destroys the joy of life, and mutilates one's dearest friends. Curse it!
(A sound as of an express train is heard, followed by the roar of an explosion, while a dense cloud of smoke and dust rises immediately in view of the trench.)
PORTENTOUS VOICE. Prepare to face eternity!
CECIL (clenching his fists). Beast, loathsome beast! Don't think I am afraid of you.
(The sounds are repeated as a second shell drops, rather nearer. A Shadow appears round the dug-out, and hesitates.)
CECIL (to the Shadow). Who is that? Is that the Shadow of Fear?
A THIN, QUAVERING VOICE. Yes, shall I come in?
CECIL (furiously). Out of my sight, vile, cringing wretch! Not even your shadow will I tolerate in my presence!
(A third shell bursts nearer still.)
PORTENTOUS VOICE (thunderously). Set not your affections on things below.
(CECIL pauses in a listening attitude).
CECIL (more quietly, and with a new look in his eyes). I think I have forgotten something,—something rather important.
(Enter the twin Spirits of HONOUR and DUTY, Spirits of a very noble and courtly mien.)
CECIL (simply and humbly). Gentlemen, to my sorrow and loss I had forgotten you. You are doubly welcome.
THE SPIRIT OF DUTY. Young sir, we thank you. After all, it is but right that in this hour of danger and dismay we should be with you.
THE SPIRIT OF HONOUR. I am so old a friend of you and yours, Cecil, that you may surely trust me. I was your father's friend. Side by side we stood in every crisis of his varied life. Together faced the Dervish rush at Abu Klea, and afterwards in India took our part in many a desperate unnamed frontier tussle. I helped him woo your mother, spoke for him when he put up for Parliament, advised him when he visited the city. In fact, I was his companion all through life, and I stood beside his bed at death.
THE SPIRIT OF DUTY. I too may claim to have been as much your father's friend as was my brother. Indeed, where one is, the other is never far away. We do agree most wonderfully, and since our birth, no quarrel has ever disturbed the harmony of our ways.
CECIL. Gentlemen, you have recalled me to myself. I had forgotten that I was no more a child. I wanted to dance in the sun with the flowers, and sing with the birds, to swim in the pool with yonder newt, and lie down to dry in the long meadow grass among the poppies. Because I might not do this and other things as fond and foolish, I was petulant and peevish, like a spoilt child. I look to you, gentlemen, to help me to be a man, and play a man's part in the world.
HONOUR. We will remain at hand, call us when you need us, we shall not fail you.
(The bombardment increases in intensity. Shrapnel bursts overhead. Shells with increasing rapidity and accuracy explode both short and over the trench. The hail of bullets is continuous. An N.C.O. rushes by shouting "Stand to"; men rush from the dug-outs and seize their rifles; CECIL, like the others, grasps his rifle and sees that it is fully loaded.)
(Curtain.)
ACT IV. SUNSET
SCENE. The same, but the wall of sand-bags bags is broken in many places. The dead lie half-buried beneath them. CECIL lies, badly wounded, against a gap in the wall, his rifle by his side. HONOUR and DUTY kneel beside him tenderly. The last rays of the sun light up his painful smile. THIRST stands gloomily over him, and the wild flowers are peeping at him with sleepy eyes through the gap, while MOTHER EARTH calls to them to go to bed. FATHER SUN leans sadly over the broken parapet.
CECIL (slowly and with difficulty). Honour, Duty, I thank you. You did not fail me.
HONOUR. You played the man, Cecil, as your father did before you.
DUTY. Your example it was that steadied your comrades, and kept craven fear at a distance. You saved the trench.
HONOUR. This is the beauty of manhood, to die for a good cause. There is no fairer thing in all God's world.
CECIL. I thank you. Good-night, Sun; good-night, Mother Earth. Think kindly of me. I don't think I was mad after all.
SUN. Good-night, brave lad. (To MOTHER EARTH) I can hardly bear to look on so sad a sight.
CECIL. Good-night, Ragged Robins; good-night, Poppies. You have played your game, and I mine. Only they are different because we are different.
CHORUS OF FLOWERS. Good-night, dear Cecil. We are so very sorry that you are hurt.
(Enter the MASTER, flowers shyly following him. HONOUR and DUTY raise CECIL gently to a standing position.)
THE MASTER (extending his arms with a loving smile). "Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."
(CECIL, with a look of wonder and joy, is borne forward.)
(Curtain.)