AustLit

Ladder Game

by

Kester Berwick

(c.1934)

Characters

The Announcer:  – You may not like the record I am going to play for you. However, I think it is a good idea to have it, for a reason which I shall tell you when you have heard it. It is called "Octandre," by Varese, a modern composer, and is one of the special "Columbia History of Music" series.

(Here the record.)

Now I know what some of you are thinking. You are thinking, "What an odd thing." Yes; it is odd. A critique said of it that it must be heard to be believed. It is also experimental, for Varese composes with the sole idea of organising the twelve semitones of the octave, and has developed his own individual technique. Well, the dramatic dialogue we are going to do is also odd and experimental in some ways, and so it seemed to me that it would not be out of place to have them both together on the same programme.

Sitting on top of some ladders forming an archway is a man who might be – well a professor. At any rate, he is somebody we all know. He is gazing at the sun. He does not notice that an elegant woman with a beautiful but determined face has come below him. She is carrying under her arm a large red umbrella, and is obviously looking for something. Suddenly she sees the man. Immediately she knows what to do, for she has done this kind of thing before. She hurries to the nearest ladder and starts climbing.

(The sound of her steps on the ladder is represented by beating slowly up two octaves of a very wooden xylophone, starting at middle c. This is climaxed by a loud sigh of contentment, indicating that she has arrived.)

The Woman:   Of course, under the circumstances, I could hardly expect you to stand up in the presence of a lady; but I think you might at least give some slight acknowledgement.

The Man:   What! Then I am no longer alone? Oh, I beg your pardon. I was not aware of you until you spoke.

The Woman:   And until I poked you, no doubt! Are you surprised to see me?

The Man:   I am rather. I have sat here in solitude for so long.

The Woman:   Then I hope you don’t resent my intrusion. Still you can’t expect to keep the high places for yourself always.

The Man:   (Reluctantly) No; I suppose not.

The Woman:  Had you really wished to do so?

The Man:   I think perhaps I had; but now you have come –

The Woman: Yes; you realise how bored you’ve been. Anyway, it was nice of you to say that.

The Man:   I didn’t say that.

The Woman:   Well, you would have later... But now you remind me of someone. I suppose it was your love of light and all that sort of thing that brought you up here.

The Man:    (Impressively) It’s nearer the sun here.

The Woman:    Dear me! Yes; you do remind me of someone. Well, listen to this. You can have too much sun. I’m one of those who think that shadows can be good by contrast. That’s my philosophy.

The Man:    So I observe.

The Woman:    Why, how did you? In which way did you observe?

The Man:    You’ve brought your umbrella, even here.

The Woman:     One especially needs it even here ... Just a little forethought I assure you. 

The Man:    Forethought? But how could you know the sun would be so bright here? You have been here before? 

The Woman:    Well, perhaps not here exactly; but this isn’t the only ladder one can climb. If you open your eyes wide enough, you’ll see ladders everywhere. Look, over there and over there. Oh, I have had my moments of – uplift shall I say? And a woman doesn’t easily forget such things. There were Peter, Roland, Marcel – and –well – one or two others!

The Man:    I see. I begin to understand.

The Woman:    Yes; women arrive on the heights so naturally, don’t they? It seems that you men have to struggle every bit of the way. At least, that was Marcel's opinion. He had read a great deal, you know; but never lived much, and had such fixed ideas.

The Man:    Yet, even with him you went to the heights?

The Woman:    Well, not with him. Perhaps I should say owing to him. You see, anyone will do who gives you the impulse; but whether you arrive together is quite another thing. It so often happens that you start off with someone and that when you get to the top you find yourself alone.

The Man:    There are no Marcels and Peters any longer?

The Woman:    Well, one never quite likes to admit that; but even when they are all gone, the desire to climb remains just the same. Some say it’s even worse when you have once been on the heights, you know. Oh, it’s very odd really, and as you got older you become more used to climbing alone. Moat people would agree with me.

The Man:   Climbing alone.

The Woman:    Even as you are; though being a woman I perhaps am better equipped.

The Man:    Yes?

The Woman:    I have my umbrella. Don’t forget that. Where would a woman be without an umbrella? 

The Man:    Dear, dear! And you expected to find someone up this particular ladder?

The Woman:    I admit I had hopes. That’s my philosophy!

The Man:    Well, you have not hoped in vain. 

The Woman:    No. 

The Man:    (Reflectively) I was jealous of my loneliness.

The Woman:    No, no; you were jealous of the company it brought you. 

The Man:    You mean – ? 

The Woman:    Exactly what I said. Those who seek loneliness are weary of the solitude occasioned by a crowd. 

The Man:    What an idea!

The Woman:    Indeed, an idea. Do you mean to say you’ve never thought of it? 

The Man:    Oh, there must be many things one doesn’t think of up here. Somehow, you make me realise that. Here the sun is so strong. It rather dazzles one.

The Woman:    Quite right. So it does. I shall open my umbrella before we grow a minute older. There! Does that keep a little light from you? 

The Man:    Oh, how different everything looks! This is incredible. Is that – is that the earth down there?

The Woman:    Ha-ha, you are not so far above it as you thought, eh? How does it strike you?

The Man:    (Hesitantly) There is much that is inviting.

The Woman:    I'm glad you see it that way, especially as you’ll soon be returning.

The Man:    Oh, no! 

The Woman:    But you must. 

The Man:    I protest.

The Woman:   Oh, many greater than you have protested in just that way ... (There is no doubt whatever that you remind me of somebody.) You are stranded in your ideas. You are high and dry, and high and dryness at any altitude means stagnation. The truth is, you are up a pole.

The Man:  Then, so are you.

The Woman:   Ah, but I’m not staying. That's the great sin, my dear – staying put. Yes; I'm opposed to all stagnation. Most certainly that is my philosophy!

The Man:    (Wonderingly) You don’t really mean it is good to go back down there?

The Woman:   Well, why not? I assure you that after each little flutter the world is never the same. Come with me and see. 

The Man:    Only to climb up again? No, never!

The Woman:    To climb up again, as you say; but it'll be a different ladder next time, one of the others. Yes; for those who are sharp-eyed, the whole landscape is almost nothing but ladders.

The Man:    Strange. I think I knew that before.

The Woman:    You did. You knew it very well before you got so burnt up and grey; but you've half forgotten... And such ladders! Lengths to suit everyone, and some higher and more in the sun than this one. 

The Man:   And to get to then? 

The Women:    You must go down first. You hear me? You must go down first. That is Rule No. 1 of the Ladder Game. 

The Man:    Go down first. Ah well, if I must, let it be so. Only, let's go down together.

The Woman:    Naturally! A man and a woman can always go down together.

The Man:   Oh hush. Not so loud, I beg you. Somebody might hear.

The Woman:    Hear what?

The Men:    That one must go down first. How do you know such things? 

The Woman:    (Very feminine) Well, you see, I have an umbrella – an essentially feminine thing. Let me tell you another. A man and a women can always go up together.

The Man:    (Resigned) Yes, if you say so.

The Woman:    You see! It was only coaxing you needed. Now stop thinking so much, and trust yourself to what there is between us. Hold the umbrella firmly, and let us parachute down.

(The fall is represented by a swift glissando down the two octaves of the xylophone, ending in a dull thud.)

The Man:    Alas, the world is a hard place, even though we are together.

The Woman:    Hush, my love. The trip down was exceedingly pleasant while it lasted. As for the bump at the end, well, that's the price one pays... THAT'S MY PHILOSOPHY.

(Four downward glissandos over the same range as previously, finishing dramatically on the note F.)
 

[The end.]