metempsychosis: or a mad world: a play in one act

Irish Review (Dublin)

Metempsychosis: Or a Mad World: A Play in One ActAuthor(s): Thomas MacDonaghSource: The Irish Review (Dublin), Vol. 1, No. 12 (Feb., 1912), pp. 585-599Published by: Irish Review (Dublin)Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/30063135 .

Accessed: 14/06/2014 10:50

Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at .http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

.JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range ofcontent in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new formsof scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].

.

Irish Review (Dublin) is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to The Irish Review(Dublin).

http://www.jstor.org

This content downloaded from 185.44.78.115 on Sat, 14 Jun 2014 10:50:04 AMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=irishrevdub

http://www.jstor.org/stable/30063135?origin=JSTOR-pdf

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp


Metempsychosis: or A Mad World*

a Play in one act

By 'THOMAS aIacID O NA G H

What, in ill thoughts again? Men must endure Their going hence even as their coming hither. Ripeness is all. Come on.

SHAKESPEARE.

(King Lear.) Au carrefour douteux, Ygrec de Pythagore, 7'ai pris la branche gauche, et je chemine encore

Sans arriver jamais. TIHEOPHILE GAUTIER.

(La Comedie de la Mort.) PERSONS

EARL WINTON-WINTON DE WINTON.

COUNTESS WINTON-WINTON DE WINTON.

THE STRANGER. GLADYS.

The Earl is voluble, excitable, earnest, visionary, victim of ease and enthusiasm, nearly forty years of age. The Countess is languid, bored, courteous, interested it things exotic, but with an interest without enthusiasm ; much younger than her husband ; the sanest of them. The stranger is about thirty, timid, shy, awkward in company, opportunist in conversation, with no interest in anything but his present fad, enthusiastic when speaking of it, otherwise hesitating and given to distraction. He has a knack of emphasising most of his syllables, thus giving a tone of gravity to commonplace remarks. All three are thoroughly selfish, thoroughly decent people of no earthly use or importance. Gladys is a lay figure.

PERIOD: The Present. PLACE: Castle Winton, near Drogheda. SCENE: A Room in Castle Winton, a study, simply furnished, with

*Produced by the Theatre of Ireland, 1912. Rights reserved by the Author.

585



THE IRISH REVIEW

a blackboard in one corner. COUNTESS WINTON-WINTON DE WINTON discovered, searching languidly for a book.

COUNTESS (going to door, calling). Gladys. (Pause.) Gladys. (Wearily.) I thought that girl was in the next room. Gladys !

(Enter GLADYS. GLADYS. Yes, my lady. COUNTESS. Did Lord Winton leave any message for me, about a

book he was to find for me-a book on orchids ? GLADYS. No, my lady, not that I know. He left this blackboard,

though. COUNTESS. A blackboard! What for GLADYS. I don't know, my lady. He was drawing things on it

this morning. He told me to put the blackboard in this corner and to

change the bust of Py-thagoras to the top of the staircase. COUNTESS. Well, I want that book. Will you go and see if he has

left any message about it ?

(GLADYS goes to the door, then turns back. GLADYS. His lordship's coming now, my lady.

(Exit. COUNTESS (sinking wearily into a chair). Oh, how perfectly naturally

wearying it is to have to do things !

(Enter EARL WINTON-WINTON DE WINTON and the STRANGER.

WINTON (volubly, showing in the STRANGER). Ah, here we are! (To COUNTESS.) This is a friend of mine, my dear. (To STRANGER.) Lady Winton, Lady Winton. So. (STRANGER bows, puzzled. WINToN motions him to a chair. He sits down doubtfully on the edge of it.)

COUNTESS (aside to WINTON). I didn't catch the gentleman's name. WINTON (aside to COUNTESS). Neither did I. Doesn't matter at

all, doesn't matter. (To STRANGER.) So extraordinary to meet you like that! (To COUNTESS.) Down on the shore. (To STRANGER.)

Look here, you must tell her about that boat. What did I say when

you told me, eh ? STRAN GER. Oh, you said: " Of course----." WINTON. Of course. STRANGER. And then you said it would be all right. WINTON. Of course. Well, about the boat

586



METEMPSYCHOSIS: OR A MAD WORLD

STRANGER. Well, Lady- ah--- (To WINTON.) By the way, your name keeps slipping from me. 'Tis so long ago, you see-

WINTON. Of course - Winton-Winton de Winton - Lord Winton-Winton de Winton of Castle Winton.

STRANGER. Thank you. Well, about the boat, Lady Winton- WINTON. Yes, tell her it all; do tell her it all, please. STRANGER (awkwardly). Well- ah----I had just lost my boat-

little rowing boat. Most unfortunate. I had rowed up from Dublin to Drogheda along the coast.

COUNTESS (languidly). How perfectly natural! STRANGER (enthusiastically, smiling). Yes, isn't it ? Hugging the

coast, you see, not going out far at all. I was going right round Ireland like that.

COUNTESS (bored). Right round Ireland like that WINTON. Yes, but now he's lost the boat. Ha, ha ! STRANGER. The tide, you see. I came out into the town, and left

the boat so. I always do leave it so. The dear people, the peasants and fisherfolk, are so good. They never touch my boat, I know. But then I forgot to pull it up or something- I quite forget what it was I did forget. It must be the tide- it's gone.

COUNTESS. How natural! WINTON. Well, there he was. He reminds me of that thing, you

know- ah- (Pats his forehcad. Pause.) STRANGER (resuming). There I was. How on earth was I to get

back by sea- or to get round ? I've given up travelling by land. How was I to get on or to get back ? There I was-on the shore.

WINTON. Right on the shore when I found him. STRANGER. I turned round, and I saw Lord- WINTON. Winton. STRANGER. Winton-Winton de Winton. Wonderful how you recog-

nised me. WINTON. Oh, I knew you at once. I always do. STRANGER. And here I am, boat gone and all. WINTON. 'Twill be all right. Look here, it's just a migration.

You're all the fresher for the next thing you go by. STRANGER. I beg your pardon.

587



THE IRISH REVIEW

COUNTESS. Oh, he means metempsychosis, transmigration. He's making a figure of speech or something. (To WINTON.) By the way, lest I forget it- (To STRANGER.) Excuse me. (To WINTON.) Have you found out where that orchid book is ? I've tired myself dead looking for it.

WINTON. Yes, yes, I found it-(Thinking.) I put it somewhere for you. Where did I put it ? I wanted to be sure it wouldn't go astray again.

COUNTESS. Oh ! WINTON. I'll remember presently. (To STRANGER.) But just now,

do you know, it strikes me that that thing of the boat is really a symbol of your transmigration.

STRANGER. Do you believe in transmigration-.of the soul ? WINTON. Why, of course-don't you ? STRANGER. Well, on the whole---yes. But, you see, I have been

so keen on that plan of mine- You understand, of course, that to row round Ireland----

WINTON. Of course, you hadn't- ah- well, I might say- STRANGER (confidentially). - made what you would call a proper

study of met----ah----met----- WINTON. Metempsychosis. Well, now you've got breathing time,

you ought really to find out who you are. I don't know yet who you are.

STRANGER (Slowly). Yes- I thought that- at first. But then-

WINTON. That is, who you were, of course. For a long time I couldn't find out who Lady Winton waj.

COUNTESS (bored, now irritated). Oh, don't bother. I do wish

you'd tell me where you left that thing. (To STRANGER.) And you're really interested in metempsychosis too ?

STRANGER. Oh, yes-ah---yes. COUNTESS. And in orchids perhaps ? STRANGER (gushingly, having now got something intelligible to talk

about.) Oh, I do love orchids. WINTON. Do you really i That may be a clue. STRANGER. To the boat ?

588




WINTON. No, to you. Ah, you were probably a navigator----and in the days before they got inventions

too----steam and the rest.

STRANGER (snobbishly). Oh, I wouldn't use steam on any account only a little sail and my oars.

WINTON. A sure clue. You're just going on where you stopped before. That's how I found myself. I found it all out for myself again. We may have had to do so in each transmigration. But now that I have the great secret and shall be able to start from this point next time, there shall be no more losing of the knowledge, no more groping in the dark, no drawing out of futile life-(With a sudden change)-Who was the founder of it all ?

STRANGER (abashed). Of all what ? WINTON. Metempsychosis. COUNTESS. Pythagoras- Tell him and go on. WINTON. Well, yes, Pythagoras. But not under that name then.

Pythagoras discovered it before he was Pythagoras--in Egypt before-ah, the great land! And now, who has discovered the second secret ?

COUNTESS. Oh, is there a second ? WINTON. Oh, my dear, I remember now, I remember-- COUNTESS. The second ? WINTON. That book- on the third shelf between the two large

windows, over the encyclopedia. COUNTESS. Oh, how perfectly natural- at last. WINTON. Won't you go and get it ? You won't disturb the

encyclopedia ? There are two volumes open, at " Metempsychosis " and " Pythagoras "; I want to refer to things.

COUNTESS (to STRANGER). Excuse me. I'm simply dying to see an illustration.

(Exit COUNTESS.

WINTON (oho has opened the door for COUNTESS, coming eagerly to STRANGER). I want to tell you the second secret. I always know the man who is to know it.

STRANGER. Just like the Ancient Mariner. WINTON. Yes, isn't it ? Well, I've found out who I was before. STRANGER. I know- Pythagoras.

589



THE IRISH REVIEW

WINTON. Yes, yes. How splendid that you should guess! Well -when a soul goes on from transmigration to transmigration, it has

to be kept fresh. That's the secret. STRANGER. Oh! But, look here. All this- metempsychosis---

transmigration- is very interesting. But you see, you're so original --you talk a bit hard, obscurely. You don't mind my saying it, I hope ?

WINTON. Oh, I'm very sorry. But it's all really quite simple. A soul leaves the body. That we know. What next ?

STRANGER. (sagely) Aye, that's the question. What next ? WINTON. No question at all now- in general. As the soul came

into the body we have known, so it inevitably goes into other bodies. But all souls are not fit for immediate reincarnation.

STRANGER (still puzzled, feigning intelligence). Do you think not ? WINTON (going to the blackboard, taking chalk, and drawing an

upward sloping line). Look at this.

maturity

Degeneracy

The progress of a soul in a life may be said to begin so ! It rises to maturity. Then, when it is mature, if it remain in the same

body, having brought the body to maturity with it, and so having no

scope for further advance, it begins on the down grade, so to speak. (He completes Diagram I.) If it has gone down the whole way-that is, if it has reached degeneracy in one Ilife-it suffers for it in the

next. It has to begin all over again in lits next existence----and, as a matter of fact, it often goes farther down at the end of a life than the point from which it started. Well, in that case it takes a rest of ages to freshen it, to prepare it for a new incarnation. But take it on the up grade- free it from one life when it still rising to maturity, or when just mature, and in its next incarnation it is the soul of a great human, of a genius. (While saying this he has drawn Diagram II.) The influence of heredity is humbug, for the soul; it does count for the body; commonplace people have the parts of a body just as a genius has, but their souls are all different. The soul is from

590




another place. I haven't yet quite succeeded in explaining to myself the system on which souls are given out.

STRANGER. The little lines ? I do love diagrams. I always plan out my routes when I'm going to row a long way.

WINTON (showing Diagram II.). Well, take the soul in the ascendant, or best in its first freshness of maturity. Free it from this life; let it be aware at the moment of its leaving of the fact that it is going on; and it rises in its next transmigration. But if a soul is allowed to grow decrepit or stale or degenerate in one life, it takes a long time to fit it for a fresh life. And that is how we forget from one life to another. If the soul could leave one life fresh with all its acquired knowledge, it could begin its next life right away, avoiding oblivion and the waters of Lethe. All knowledge is recollection. A soul that leaves one life fresh regains its acquired knowledge in its next life. Have you ever asked yourself what is the fundamental difference between cleverness and stu- pidity ?

STRANGER. Well, no, one doesn't, you know. One knows when one is clever, you know.

WINTON. Has it ever seemed to you that you recollect things in a strange way ----that things happening to you for the first time somehow don't seem

Genius

Maturity

4 O

Ct~

to be happening for the first time ? STRANGER. Oh, yes, often. But you don't mean to say-- WINTON. I do. It's the same in all things, in things you hear and

learn, only that we very rarely notice that it is recollection. And now, have you ever heard of a stupid man troubled by those recollections ?

STRANGER. No, indeed. WINTOn. No. Well, the soul of a clever, intelligent man is a

591



THE IRISH REVIEW

fresh soul reincarnate; the soul of a stupid man is a degenerate soul reincarnate. The degenerate soul has been so long in Lethe, in forget- fulness, in oblivion, that it recollects with difficulty, as if learning for the first time. The fresh soul learns easily, recalling all the knowledge of a recent pre-existence.

STRANGER. And you think I learned things about boats---? WINTON. Yes, sure of it. Well, that's how I came to be Pythagoras.

I was cut off soon enough in my previous life, and so when the time came I remembered the life I had lived before.

STRANGER. Yes, indeed, I often remember things--at least it strikes me that way. Now, when I was leaving my boat to-day I was aware-

WINTON. Ah, that's it, to be aware. It's the last moment that counts; a surrender of freshness, a surrender of knowledge, a defect at the last moment before the going out of the soul, sends the sout down degenerate.

STRANGER. And you are Pythagoras ? I've often heard of Pythagoras. He made a diagram in Geometry like the sails of a boat.

(He goes to blackboard and draws diagram of Pythagoras' theorem, Euclid I. 47.) Now, isn't it like the sails of a boat ? Do you remember finding out that when you were Pythagoras ?

WiNToN (hedging). I'm not sure if it had anything to do with boats. I suppose I left boats to Ulysses. You know I was Euphorbus at Troy, and was killed by

Menelaus---cut off fresh, you see. STRANGER. Were you ? WINTON. Before that I was Aethalides the son of Mercury. And

I was Hermantius. But now, in the life before this present one I died fresh-

STRANGER. Ah, is that the secret? WINToN. Now you will learn the secret in full, the secret that

makes you regard life a bondage and death the beginning of freedom. (Pulling out a pistol.) Look at this.

STRANGER (in terror). Is it loaded ? WINTro (pointing it). Always. STRANGER. Please don't, it might go off.

592




WINTON. Have you ever felt that your soul was losing its freshness e (He lowers pistol.)

STRANGER. Indeed I have. WINTON. And now ?- But I haven't told you. STRANGER. NO. Put up the pistol- please. (WINTON puts pistol

in his pocket.) Thank you. The second secret, you called it ? WINTON. Yes. When I was Pythagoras I made two mistakes that

have kept metempsychosis back since---that have retarded the progress of metempsychosis. I accepted the theory that souls might be reincarnated in the bodies of brutes. No. The human soul informs a human body.

STRANGER. IS that the second secret ? WINTON. No, that's part of the first. But that gives us our duty

to the human race, to ourselves and to our souls. The second secret is-SUICIDE----to keep the soul fresh.

STRANGER. That should freshen it indeed. WINTON. If you feel your soul fresh now, and fear it is going to

lose its freshness, it is your duty to move on. STRANGER. Move on ? WINTON. To your next transmigration. STRANGER. No, thanks. WINTON. Move on. Get killed. Die. Get rid of this life.

Free the soul while it is fresh and knows this secret. (Pulling out the

pistol and pointing it.) It would be better now to end this life of yours--- STRANGER (crouching behind the blackboard). Oh, don't- please.

I'm degenerate. I'm not fresh. I know I'm not. I'm- stale. WINTON (lowering the pistol). No, I won't do it. STRANGER (coming out). Thanks. WINTON. I won't do it, because they understand it all so little

that they might take my life then- move me on. And though my soul is fresh, it may not be mature now. But for those laws of theirs I and my disciples, when others join me, would start a crusade for the salvation and regeneration of the race. But now they regard all homicide as crime.

STRANGER. They do indeed. WINTON. My soul is fresh. but may not be mature. It is nearly

593



THE IRISH REVIEW

so, I feel. The moment it reaches its full maturity, and before it has lost any of its freshness, my duty comes- my duty to my soul----to move on. (Pointing the pistol to his right ear). If I thought now that this was the due moment-

STRANGER. Oh, don't. Oh, I'm sure you're not nearly mature yet. (WINTON slowly lets his hand with the pistol drop to his side.) Look here, one is always thinking that sort of thing. The first time I rowed over to Lambay Island, I thought I had reached quite a great maturity in travelling alone in a small boat. Now I am going right round Ireland!

WINION. One never knows. At worst the maturity is reached early on in the next life- if only the soul is fresh. Now, I believe it was the devil that gave to suicide its bad name. I can't understand how I failed to discover this second secret in some former life. Indeed, my second great mistake was that-I declared that life is the post of man, that duty holds us at our post, life. So I was blinded like the rest, and failed to discover the second secret. I got killed by accident a few times and that always helps-

STRANGER. Look here. That's the safe thing. If I had broken

up that boat of mine or anything I'd never forgive myself. As it is- WINTON. Ah, but the danger of being unprepared. How is it

that all who are cut off while fresh do not move forward in the next life, as surely all do not ? It is that they collapse just before they leave the body. Degeneration is like sin. Sin in a moment can make void all a life's virtue. All a life's freshness in a moment may be lost. Ah, the danger of that moment ! A moment of surrender before the

passing, and we fall to instant degeneration. Then Lethe for a long age.

STRANGER. I don't know. Take a boat now-- WINTON. The boat is like the body, not the soul. Someone has

written a poem on that. Now the third secret-- STRANGER. Ah, the third ? Then the second isn't the last ?

Suicide isn't the last ? Keep on. Why not a fourth and a fifth ? WINTON. No. Give me the third, and man will want no more.

The third is to know the importance of maturity, to know if it is to be waited for, to know the due time. That's why I keep my pistol loaded, to be ready the moment I know. Perhaps I'll know by instinct. I

594




think I knew like that in other lives, and so did this. (Pointing the pistol to his right ear.)

STRANGER. Did you ? With a pistol? (Brightening.) Look here, do you think a pistol quite the thing for Pythagoras ?

WINTON. To each life its means, as to each life its body-the readiest means always. Only keep the soul fresh- fresh for the ages- for the lives to come- for the world to be--for the race to be.

STRANGER (impressed). It certainly is a very extraordinary conception. WINTON. Oh, the noblest that the mind of man has known. All

others attach importance to the mortal body----as to where it is to go and the rest. And they think all duty is to send to an eternity of ease the soul of one poor life. But I know that all duty is to the spirit alone, not to this life. I know that the soul goes on, life after life, heaven and hell in life, in the future phases of the eternal soul.

STRANGER (alarmed by this heterodoxy). I beg your pardon, but I'm a Catholic, you see, and-

WINTON. Oh, of course. I beg your pardon. I'm so sorry. All the same I'm glad I've told you now. I knew you the moment I saw your back.

STRANGER. You must really excuse me-I know it's very stupid of me- but I can't for the life of me recall where it was I met you.

WINTON. Not in this life. STRANGER. Oh, is that it? WINTON. I thought you understood. You looked at me with just

that familiar look. STRANGER. Did I ? When I saw you coming to me like that, with

your hand out, I said to myself- I don't remember him. But then, everyone one meets is like someone else, you know.

WINTON. Of course. You have met others who are fresh. STRANGER. And Lady Winton ? What does she think of it ? WINTON (in terror). Oh, for heaven's sake, don't mention it to her.

If she knew- well, she has queer ideas at times. That's what makes me surer still of you, that you're the right soul-

STRANGER. She has queer ideas of me ? WINTON. I shouldn't have used the word ideas. Ideas are just the

things that frighten her.

595



THE IRISH REVIEW

STRANGER (flattered). And she thinks I have got ideas ? WINTON. Well, you know how other people will think things. I'm

always glad of it for myself, I know. Not a word. Here she is. (Enter COUNTESS.

WINTON (to COUNTESS). You've found the book ? COUNTESS. No, I told Gladys to look for it. I found one of the

illustrations I wanted. I'm wearied out. (She sits down. To STRANGER.) I'm so gladyou like orchids.

STRANGER. Oh, I do. But, you see, I've been so busy with one thing and another about boats, that I've had little or no time, you see, to cultivate- my----

COUNTESS. Ah, you don't grow them; you only buy your orchids ? STRANGER (guardedly, lying). Well, yes-yes. COUNTESS. Anyhow you'll be interested in this illustration. I took

it out of that book that's always getting lost. (She shows him a picture.) STRANGER. A very beautiful picture indeed! What a beautiful

flower the orchid is- generally. COUNTESS. Flower ? Yes, the orchid has a beautiful flower as

you say. Since you onlybuy them, the great thing for you would be to get them fresh, cut at the right stage.

WINTON. My dear, don't you think they should be allowed to grow to maturity ?

COUNTESS. Not at all. Maturity of life- I read somewhere the other day with regard to plants- maturity of life is the beginning of decay. I believe it is the first stage of decay.

WINTON. Of degeneration, eh ? COUNTESS. Yes, I suppose so. Don't worry me with questions. WINTON (with exaltation, rising). The third secret ! Maturity is

imminent, yet the soul is fresh ! Excuse me. (Exit WINTON.

COUNTESS (having looked in an untroubled way at WINTON as he

leaves, turning to STRANGER). Have you known Lord Winton for long, Mr.- ?

STRANGER. I- I never met him till to-day. COUNTESS. Oh, indeed ? He seems very intimate with you. You'll

pardon my saying so, and please pardon my extraordinary question, but he seems to have talked so much to you-What do you think of his ideas ?

596




STRANGER. Oh, admirable, Lady Winton, so like my own! COUNTESS (disappointed). Oh- naturally--I mean, I'm so glad. STRANGER (enthusiastically). And he's so generous, impetuously

generous. Now, that time on the shore to-day- (Suddenly catching himself up.) Oh, by the way, why did he go off like that now ? I'm afraid

(A pause, then a pistol shot is heard. COUNTESS. Whatever is Winton doing now ? STRANGER (bitterly, breaking into furious anger). That's just like

him. They're all like that, all selfish, selfish. COUNTESS (mildly surprised). What is it? What do you think

Winton has been shooting ? STRANGER. Oh, he's all right. He's just moved on. But how am

I going to get on now without my boat ? (A step heard without, mounting the stairs. The STRANGER if

standing at a corner of the stage front. A knock at the door. Door opens, and WINTON enters, with the pistol smoking in one hand, a book in the other. The hair over his right ear is singed.

STRANGER (shrinking back). Transmigrated already! COUNTESS. Winton, why do you frighten us in this way ? WINTON. It's all right, my dear, I'll frighten you no more. That

part of it is over for me. (To STRANGER.) At the last moment I thought of something to tell you.

STRANGER (brightening). About a boat ? About getting me a boat to go on ? Oh, I must apologize. I had just begun to blame you for moving on and leaving me here. How thoughtful of you!

WINTON (solemnly). Well, yes, it has to do with your boat. At that moment, the greatest of my life, things flashed clearly on my mind - all the wisdom of my soul came to me. I saw first that your journeying so round the island of your birth is a symbol of all life. When you have accomplished your journey you will repeat it again and again. So the soul repeats life after life its voyage. But be true to the symbol. No man can live your life for you. Rely on no man in your journeying. Accept no extraneous aid. Rely on the impulse from within that sends you on your way. Rely on your own strength and resources. Go now and complete your journey in the boat in which you began it; that

597



THE IRISH REVIEW

boat is to your present journey as your present body to this life. Or, if you cannot find it, go back and begin again. Go back as best you can, the readiest way, relying still on yourself and your own resources. Turn neither to me nor to another for means or aid.

STRANGER. What! You won't! I have only lost my time! WINTON. Ah, no. You have gained a great thing. You are to be

my disciple. You are to be the chosen, the first called. For I saw another thing in that great moment. Every cause, every philosophy, must have its martyr. I am to be the martyr of metempsychosis.

COUNTESS. Winton, please give me that pistol at once. WINTON. Excuse me, my dear, I have need of it. (Sadly.)

Martyrdom means sacrifice, the loss of some fair cherished thing. Those who embrace my philosophy will keep their souls fresh-will cut themselves from this life at the due time. That is denied to me. I see my duty. It is for me to stay on in this life, to stay even beyond the hour of my maturity, to teach this new knowledge. I alone of the initiated deny myself suicide. I will live on, even at the risk of my soul's degeneracy.

STRANGER (Scornfully). That's heroic and unselfish, indeed! WINTON (with modesty, unconscious of the irony). No, not so very

heroic either. When I next am reincarnated this knowledge of mine will be common. I shall not be a martyr in my next transmigration. I shall regain the knowledge. Yet it is hard to make this sacrifice.

STRANGER (sarcastically). And I'm the first called ? WINTON. Yes, my friend. You ask me for a boat. Ignorantly

you ask for what might spoil your destiny. I give you a far better gift. (Proffering him the pistol.) You now possess the knowledge. Take this. Be the first to take advantage of what you have learned. (Turning to CouNTESS.) My dear, you must excuse me for this. You know you always refused to learn metempsychosis.

COUNTESS (who has been paying more attention to her illustration than to her husband). I don't know what you're talking about.

STRANGER (bluntly and angrily). You offer to give me a boat and then give me a pistol instead! You invite me to your house and then tell me to shoot myself!

WINTON (with sorrow and disappointment). Ah, I thought you understood.

598




STRANGER. I understand quite well, thank you. Good day. (He goes towards the door.

COUNTESS (to WINTON). Won't you ask your friend to dine with us ? WINTON. Oh, of course. (To STRANGER.) I beg your pardon.

Won't you stay and dine with us ? STRANdER. No.

(Exit STRANGER. COUNTESS. How very rude! Winton, give me that pistol. WINTON (handing her first the pistol and then the book). Here it is;

and, by the way, I quite forgot to give you this. When Gladys heard that shot she ran out of the library. She had just found this book of yours.

COUNTESS. Oh, how natural! And now run after your friend and show him out.

(As WINTON goes towards the door and the COUNTESS settles herself cosily in her chair with her book, the curtain falls.

599



metempsychosis: or a mad world: a play in one act

Documents