T. S. Eliot's plays are remarkably like complex mathematical equations painted in vivid colors upon a canvas. Beautiful in conception and poetry, they are still quite meaningless if one cannot solve the formulas and reinterpret the symbols. A number of people laughed when members of the Institute for Advanced Study whispered that Eliot was writing Greek letters on the Institute's blackboards, during his year of residence there. Far from trying to emulate the physicists and logicians, Eliot was merely working his own kinds of unique mathematics; all of his plays fir the same two forms, the simultaneous equation of Greek myth and Christian theology.

I must admit that I find it impossible to relate The Confidential Clerk to any of the myths. Eliot claims the Greek is there, however, and perhaps an under standing of the particular legend would delineate some of the aspects of The Confidential Clerk's characters I still find confusing. The theological framework is much clearer to me, and I shall review The Confidential Clerk in its context.

As The Cocktail Party was an attempt to synthesize current mores and, more exactly, modern theories of psychology with the Medieval framework of faith, reason, and salvation, The Confidential Clerk tries to dramatize the paradox of free will with recent thinking on heredity and parental discipline. In the process of fitting together the old world, of philosophy with the age of data, Eliot usually manufactures his dramatic conflict largely in the mind of the spectator rather than in action of the characters. The Confidential Clerk in this respect, depends even more on the symbolic clash of ideas than did The Cocktail Party. Eliot fashioned his earlier play with far better poetry, injected sporadic ironies and amusing lines, and allowed his non-cognitive audience plot and interrelationships which could be enjoyed on many different levels. The Confidential Clerk is less tolerant of its audience. Perched, in essence, high above the actual stage, it expects one to constantly interpret and mold Eliot's continuity out of what is, on first glance, obscure. In other words, one should really read this play before he goes to see it.

There are two confidential clerks in the employ of Sir Claude Mulhammer, one an old, pure soul, about to retire. The other, Colby Simpkins, is a frustrated musician, whom Sir Claude believes to be his illegitimate son. Simpkins feels that his music exits in an unreal world as long as Sir Claude is his father; his life belongs in finance, with his parent. Yet, strangely enough, finance also seems like fantasy to him, and for a while, he feels that every man is given one vocation from his parents and one from God alone. In the final act, as Simpkins assumes the role of the Christ-symbol, he finds that his real father was a second-rate organist, and the woman who raised him from infancy, the Mary-symbol, is his mother, Now he can be happy, his own will (or his God-given characteristic) is in harmony with heredity. His music, which was once only a mystical religion, now becomes his existence.

Eliot's Free Will

Throughout the resolution of Simpkins' problems there is the repetition of the thought by Sir Claude, his wife Lady Elizabeth, and his doubtlessly illegitimate child, Lucasta Angel, that if someone is able to see us in our God-given role we will be able to assume that persons. Finally, through conversation with Simpkins and his acceptance of them, they all begin to understand themselves. Self-realization does not insure happiness, however, unless you are Christ or pure in faith like the old clerk, Eggerson. As Sir Claude says, one must accept the terms life imposes upon you, even if it seems like make-believe, unless you have the strength of will to impose your own terms. Those who are weak, like Sir Claude, Lady Elizabeth, and Lucasta, may have their wished granted, but the facts will be in line with God's will, not necessarily their own. For the ordinary man, then, to Eliot, unhappiness is merely a misalignment of wills. There is only free will or realization to him whose will is perfectly attuned. Simpkins is God-like when he discovers that he wants what he should be, and Eggerson wants nothing, wished for three things, and in fact gets them all. Simpkins, in the end, will become the organist in Eggerson's small town chapel, live with the Eggerson's and study for orders. He who seeks nothing, but has faith, will inherit the earth.

Considering the fact that a good actor must interpret his role intelligently, The Confidential Clerk makes tremendous demands on its performers. As Simpkins, Doughlas Watson seems unable to grasp the plane between God and man upon which he should stand. Consequently, he seems a bit over detached. Claude Rains, as Sir Claude, although he reads his lines extremely well, seems to have an equally difficult time of deciding whether he should be hard and dominating or confused and sentimental. He is a little too much of the Latter. Newton Blick makes an excellent Eggerson, however. He is a blessed soul, completely at terms with the world.

The women are much more difficult to understand than the male roles. In a Claire, as Lady Elizabeth, represents a complete denial of the world. Always searching for some kind of reality in Eastern mysticism and the like, she refuses to accept it even when it is thrust in her face. "I don't believe in facts," she exclaims. Miss Claire's performance well portrays the character as I see it, but frankly I think Lady Elizabeth has something to do with the myth.

Moralist Overtones

Joan Greenwood, a young woman who is always delightful in both voice and appearance, makes Lucasta the most appealing character in the play, and possibly the only human being. In the opening of the second act, the best part of the play from a purely dramatic point of view, she tells Simpkins of her self-hatred and search for security. In Simpkins, she finds the first person who sees her as she wants to be. Whether or not you take Simpkins as Christ, the process of self understanding through rapport with another being is highly emotional and dramatic.

In her small role as Simpkins' aunt-mother, Aline MacMahon presents an exceptionally moving study of a woman who wanted a child, got hi, then found he could never really be hers, although he would always be the son of someone (Someone) not on this earth.

In conclusion, it was very easy to like The Cocktail Party for the wrong reason; it is even more simple to dislike The Confidential Clerk for something it does not pretend to be. In its evangelical message, it seems strangely more Calvinistic than Anglican (man find God through himself without mention of the church and with a predestined role). And these moralistic overtones make the characters into theological robots rather than into the crisp, little chessmen of The Cocktail Party. Mush as I enjoy the intellectual exercise The Confidential Clerk imposes, I had the feeling, when it was all over that the equations didn't balance, not even when you accept the particular set of coordinates in which Eliot chooses to devote his life.