Produced by Eve Sobol





THE INCA OF PERUSALEM: AN ALMOST HISTORICAL COMEDIETTA

By George Bernard Shaw



I must remind the reader that this playlet was written when its
principal character, far from being a fallen foe and virtually a
prisoner in our victorious hands, was still the Caesar whose legions
we were resisting with our hearts in our mouths. Many were so horribly
afraid of him that they could not forgive me for not being afraid of
him: I seemed to be trifling heartlessly with a deadly peril. I knew
better; and I have represented Caesar as knowing better himself. But
it was one of the quaintnesses of popular feeling during the war that
anyone who breathed the slightest doubt of the absolute perfection of
German organization, the Machiavellian depth of German diplomacy, the
omniscience of German science, the equipment of every German with a
complete philosophy of history, and the consequent hopelessness
of overcoming so magnificently accomplished an enemy except by the
sacrifice of every recreative activity to incessant and vehement war
work, including a heartbreaking mass of fussing and cadging and bluffing
that did nothing but waste our energies and tire our resolution, was
called a pro-German.

Now that this is all over, and the upshot of the fighting has shown that
we could quite well have afforded to laugh at the doomed Inca, I am in
another difficulty. I may be supposed to be hitting Caesar when he is
down. That is why I preface the play with this reminder that when it
was written he was not down. To make quite sure, I have gone through the
proof sheets very carefully, and deleted everything that could possibly
be mistaken for a foul blow. I have of course maintained the ancient
privilege of comedy to chasten Caesar's foibles by laughing at them,
whilst introducing enough obvious and outrageous fiction to relieve both
myself and my model from the obligations and responsibilities of sober
history and biography. But I should certainly put the play in the fire
instead of publishing it if it contained a word against our defeated
enemy that I would not have written in 1913.

The Inca of Perusalem was performed for the first time in England by
the Pioneer Players at the Criterion Theatre, London, on 16th December,
1917, with Gertrude Kingston as Ermyntrude, Helen Morris as the
Princess, Nigel Playfair as the waiter, Alfred Drayton as the hotel
manager, C. Wordley Hulse as the Archdeacon, and Randle Ayrton as the
Inca.




PROLOGUE

The tableau curtains are closed. An English archdeacon comes through
them in a condition of extreme irritation. He speaks through the
curtains to someone behind them.

THE ARCHDEACON. Once for all, Ermyntrude, I cannot afford to maintain
you in your present extravagance. [He goes to a flight of steps
leading to the stalls and sits down disconsolately on the top step. A
fashionably dressed lady comes through the curtains and contemplates him
with patient obstinacy. He continues, grumbling.] An English clergyman's
daughter should be able to live quite respectably and comfortably on an
allowance of £150 a year, wrung with great difficulty from the domestic
budget.

ERMYNTRUDE. You are not a common clergyman: you are an archdeacon.

THE ARCHDEACON [angrily]. That does not affect my emoluments to the
extent of enabling me to support a daughter whose extravagance would
disgrace a royal personage. [Scrambling to his feet and scolding at
her.] What do you mean by it, Miss?

ERMYNTRUDE. Oh really, father! Miss! Is that the way to talk to a widow?

THE ARCHDEACON. Is that the way to talk to a father? Your marriage was
a most disastrous imprudence. It gave you habits that are absolutely
beyond your means--I mean beyond my means: you have no means. Why did
you not marry Matthews: the best curate I ever had?

ERMYNTRUDE. I wanted to; and you wouldn't let me. You insisted on my
marrying Roosenhonkers-Pipstein.

THE ARCHDEACON. I had to do the best for you, my child.
Roosenhonkers-Pipstein was a millionaire.

ERMYNTRUDE. How did you know he was a millionaire?

THE ARCHDEACON. He came from America. Of course he was a millionaire.
Besides, he proved to my solicitors that he had fifteen million dollars
when you married him.

ERYNTRUDE. His solicitors proved to me that he had sixteen millions when
he died. He was a millionaire to the last.

THE ARCHDEACON. O Mammon, Mammon! I am punished now for bowing the knee
to him. Is there nothing left of your settlement? Fifty thousand dollars
a year it secured to you, as we all thought. Only half the securities
could be called speculative. The other half were gilt-edged. What has
become of it all?

ERMYNTRUDE. The speculative ones were not paid up; and the gilt-edged
ones just paid the calls on them until the whole show burst up.

THE ARCHDEACON. Ermyntrude: what expressions!

ERMYNTRUDE. Oh bother! If you had lost ten thousand a year what
expressions would you use, do you think? The long and the short of it is
that I can't live in the squalid way you are accustomed to.

THE ARCHDEACON. Squalid!

ERMYNTRUDE. I have formed habits of comfort.

THE ARCHDEACON. Comfort!!

ERMYNTRUDE. Well, elegance if you like. Luxury, if you insist. Call it
what you please. A house that costs less than a hundred thousand dollars
a year to run is intolerable to me.

THE ARCHDEACON. Then, my dear, you had better become lady's maid to a
princess until you can find another millionaire to marry you.

ERMYNTRUDE. That's an idea. I will. [She vanishes through the curtains.]

THE ARCHDEACON. What! Come back. Come back this instant. [The lights are
lowered.] Oh, very well: I have nothing more to say. [He descends the
steps into the auditorium and makes for the door, grumbling all the
time.] Insane, senseless extravagance! [Barking.] Worthlessness!!
[Muttering.] I will not bear it any longer. Dresses, hats, furs,
gloves, motor rides: one bill after another: money going like water. No
restraint, no self-control, no decency. [Shrieking.] I say, no decency!
[Muttering again.] Nice state of things we are coming to! A pretty
world! But I simply will not bear it. She can do as she likes. I wash
my hands of her: I am not going to die in the workhouse for any
good-for-nothing, undutiful, spendthrift daughter; and the sooner that
is understood by everybody the better for all par---- [He is by this
time out of hearing in the corridor.]




THE PLAY

A hotel sitting room. A table in the centre. On it a telephone. Two
chairs at it, opposite one another. Behind it, the door. The fireplace
has a mirror in the mantelpiece.

A spinster Princess, hatted and gloved, is ushered in by the hotel
manager, spruce and artifically bland by professional habit, but
treating his customer with a condescending affability which sails very
close to the east wind of insolence.

THE MANAGER. I am sorry I am unable to accommodate Your Highness on the
first floor.

THE PRINCESS [very shy and nervous.] Oh, please don't mention it. This
is quite nice. Very nice. Thank you very much.

THE MANAGER. We could prepare a room in the annexe--

THE PRINCESS. Oh no. This will do very well.

She takes of her gloves and hat: puts them on the table; and sits down.

THE MANAGER. The rooms are quite as good up here. There is less noise;
and there is the lift. If Your Highness desires anything, there is the
telephone--

THE PRINCESS. Oh, thank you, I don't want anything. The telephone is so
difficult: I am not accustomed to it.

THE MANAGER. Can I take any order? Some tea?

THE PRINCESS. Oh, thank you. Yes: I should like some tea, if I might--if
it would not be too much trouble.

He goes out. The telephone rings. The Princess starts out of her chair,
terrified, and recoils as far as possible from the instrument.

THE PRINCESS. Oh dear! [It rings again. She looks scared. It rings
again. She approaches it timidly. It rings again. She retreats hastily.
It rings repeatedly. She runs to it in desperation and puts the receiver
to her ear.] Who is there? What do I do? I am not used to the telephone:
I don't know how--What! Oh, I can hear you speaking quite distinctly.
[She sits down, delighted, and settles herself for a conversation.] How
wonderful! What! A lady? Oh! a person. Oh, yes: I know. Yes, please,
send her up. Have my servants finished their lunch yet? Oh no: please
don't disturb them: I'd rather not. It doesn't matter. Thank you. What?
Oh yes, it's quite easy. I had no idea--am I to hang it up just as it
was? Thank you. [She hangs it up.]

Ermyntrude enters, presenting a plain and staid appearance in a long
straight waterproof with a hood over her head gear. She comes to the end
of the table opposite to that at which the Princess is seated.

THE PRINCESS. Excuse me. I have been talking through the telephone: and
I heard quite well, though I have never ventured before. Won't you sit
down?

ERMYNTRUDE. No, thank you, Your Highness. I am only a lady's maid. I
understood you wanted one.

THE PRINCESS. Oh no: you mustn't think I want one. It's so unpatriotic
to want anything now, on account of the war, you know. I sent my
maid away as a public duty; and now she has married a soldier and is
expecting a war baby. But I don't know how to do without her. I've tried
my very best; but somehow it doesn't answer: everybody cheats me; and
in the end it isn't any saving. So I've made up my mind to sell my piano
and have a maid. That will be a real saving, because I really don't care
a bit for music, though of course one has to pretend to. Don't you think
so?

ERMYNTRUDE. Certainly I do, Your Highness. Nothing could be more
correct. Saving and self-denial both at once; and an act of kindness to
me, as I am out of place.

THE PRINCESS. I'm so glad you see it in that way. Er--you won't mind my
asking, will you?--how did you lose your place?

ERMYNTRUDE. The war, Your Highness, the war.

THE PRINCESS. Oh yes, of course. But how--

ERMYNTRUDE [taking out her handkerchief and showing signs of grief]. My
poor mistress--

THE PRINCESS. Oh please say no more. Don't think about it. So tactless
of me to mention it.

ERMYNTRUDE [mastering her emotion and smiling through her tears]. Your
Highness is too good.

THE PRINCESS. Do you think you could be happy with me? I attach such
importance to that.

ERMYNTRUDE [gushing]. Oh, I know--I shall.

THE PRINCESS. You must not expect too much. There is my uncle. He is
very severe and hasty; and he is my guardian. I once had a maid I liked
very much; but he sent her away the very first time.

ERMYNTRUDE. The first time of what, Your Highness?

THE PRINCESS. Oh, something she did. I am sure she had never done it
before; and I know she would never have done it again, she was so truly
contrite and nice about it.

ERMYNTRUDE. About what, Your Highness?

THE PRINCESS. Well, she wore my jewels and one of my dresses at a rather
improper ball with her young man; and my uncle saw her.

ERYMNTRUDE. Then he was at the ball too, Your Highness?

THE PRINCESS [struck by the inference]. I suppose he must have been. I
wonder! You know, it's very sharp of you to find that out. I hope you
are not too sharp.

ERMYNTRUDE. A lady's maid has to be, Your Highness. [She produces some
letters.] Your Highness wishes to see my testimonials, no doubt. I have
one from an Archdeacon. [She proffers the letters.]

THE PRINCESS [taking them]. Do archdeacons have maids? How curious!

ERMYNTRUDE. No, Your Highness. They have daughters. I have first-rate
testimonials from the Archdeacon and from his daughter.

THE PRINCESS [reading them]. The daughter says you are in every respect
a treasure. The Archdeacon says he would have kept you if he could
possibly have afforded it. Most satisfactory, I'm sure.

ERMYNTRUDE. May I regard myself as engaged then, Your Highness?

THE PRINCESS [alarmed]. Oh, I'm sure I don't know. If you like, of
course; but do you think I ought to?

ERMYNTRUDE. Naturally I think Your Highness ought to, most decidedly.

THE PRINCESS. Oh well, if you think that, I daresay you're quite right.
You'll excuse my mentioning it, I hope; but what wages--er--?

ERMYNTRUDE. The same as the maid who went to the ball. Your Highness
need not make any change.

THE PRINCESS. M'yes. Of course she began with less. But she had such a
number of relatives to keep! It was quite heartbreaking: I had to raise
her wages again and again.

ERMYNTRUDE. I shall be quite content with what she began on; and I have
no relatives dependent on me. And I am willing to wear my own dresses at
balls.

THE PRINCESS. I am sure nothing could be fairer than that. My uncle
can't object to that, can he?

ERMYNTRUDE. If he does, Your Highness, ask him to speak to me about
it. I shall regard it as part of my duties to speak to your uncle about
matters of business.

THE PRINCESS. Would you? You must be frightfully courageous.

ERMYNTRUDE. May I regard myself as engaged, Your Highness? I should like
to set about my duties immediately.

THE PRINCESS. Oh yes, I think so. Oh certainly. I--

A waiter comes in with the tea. He places the tray on the table.

THE PRINCESS. Oh, thank you.

ERMYNTRUDE [raising the cover from the tea cake and looking at it]. How
long has that been standing at the top of the stairs?

THE PRINCESS [terrified]. Oh please! It doesn't matter.

THE WAITER. It has not been waiting. Straight from the kitchen, madam,
believe me.

ERMYNTRUDE. Send the manager here.

THE WAITER. The manager! What do you want with the manager?

ERMYNTRUDE. He will tell you when I have done with him. How dare you
treat Her Highness in this disgraceful manner? What sort of pothouse is
this? Where did you learn to speak to persons of quality? Take away your
cold tea and cold cake instantly. Give them to the chambermaid you were
flirting with whilst Her Highness was waiting. Order some fresh tea
at once; and do not presume to bring it yourself: have it brought by a
civil waiter who is accustomed to wait on ladies, and not, like you, on
commercial travellers.

THE WAITER. Alas, madam, I am not accustomed to wait on anybody. Two
years ago I was an eminent medical man, my waiting-room was crowded with
the flower of the aristocracy and the higher bourgeoisie from nine to
six every day. But the war came; and my patients were ordered to give
up their luxuries. They gave up their doctors, but kept their week-end
hotels, closing every career to me except the career of a waiter.
[He puts his fingers on the teapot to test its temperature, and
automatically takes out his watch with the other hand as if to count the
teapot's pulse.] You are right: the tea is cold: it was made by the wife
of a once fashionable architect. The cake is only half toasted: what can
you expect from a ruined west-end tailor whose attempt to establish a
second-hand business failed last Tuesday week? Have you the heart to
complain to the manager? Have we not suffered enough? Are our miseries
nev---- [the manager enters]. Oh Lord! here he is. [The waiter withdraws
abjectly, taking the tea tray with him.]

THE MANAGER. Pardon, Your Highness; but I have received an urgent
inquiry for rooms from an English family of importance; and I venture
to ask you to let me know how long you intend to honor us with your
presence.

THE PRINCESS [rising anxiously]. Oh! am I in the way?

ERMYNTRUDE [sternly]. Sit down, madam. [The Princess sits down
forlornly. Ermyntrude turns imperiously to the Manager.] Her Highness
will require this room for twenty minutes.

THE MANAGER. Twenty minutes!

ERMYNTRUDE. Yes: it will take fully that time to find a proper apartment
in a respectable hotel.

THE MANAGER. I do not understand.

ERMYNTRUDE. You understand perfectly. How dare you offer Her Highness a
room on the second floor?

THE MANAGER. But I have explained. The first floor is occupied. At
least--

ERMYNTRUDE. Well? at least?

THE MANAGER. It is occupied.

ERMYNTRUDE. Don't you dare tell Her Highness a falsehood. It is not
occupied. You are saving it up for the arrival of the five-fifteen
express, from which you hope to pick up some fat armaments contractor
who will drink all the bad champagne in your cellar at 5 francs a
bottle, and pay twice over for everything because he is in the same
hotel with Her Highness, and can boast of having turned her out of the
best rooms.

THE MANAGER. But Her Highness was so gracious. I did not know that Her
Highness was at all particular.

ERMYNTRUDE. And you take advantage of Her Highness's graciousness. You
impose on her with your stories. You give her a room not fit for a dog.
You send cold tea to her by a decayed professional person disguised as a
waiter. But don't think you can trifle with me. I am a lady's maid; and
I know the ladies' maids and valets of all the aristocracies of Europe
and all the millionaires of America. When I expose your hotel as the
second-rate little hole it is, not a soul above the rank of a curate
with a large family will be seen entering it. I shake its dust off my
feet. Order the luggage to be taken down at once.

THE MANAGER [appealing to the Princess]. Can Your Highness believe this
of me? Have I had the misfortune to offend Your Highness?

THE PRINCESS. Oh no. I am quite satisfied. Please--

ERMYNTRUDE. Is Your Highness dissatisfied with me?

THE PRINCESS [intimidated]. Oh no: please don't think that. I only
meant--

ERMYNTRUDE [to the manager]. You hear. Perhaps you think Her Highness
is going to do the work of teaching you your place herself, instead of
leaving it to her maid.

THE MANAGER. Oh please, mademoiselle. Believe me: our only wish is to
make you perfectly comfortable. But in consequence of the war, all royal
personages now practise a rigid economy, and desire us to treat them
like their poorest subjects.

THE PRINCESS. Oh yes. You are quite right--

ERMYNTRUDE [interrupting]. There! Her Highness forgives you; but don't
do it again. Now go downstairs, my good man, and get that suite on the
first floor ready for us. And send some proper tea. And turn on the
heating apparatus until the temperature in the rooms is comfortably
warm. And have hot water put in all the bedrooms--

THE MANAGER. There are basins with hot and cold taps.

ERMYNTRUDE [scornfully]. Yes: there WOULD be. Suppose we must put up
with that: sinks in our rooms, and pipes that rattle and bang and guggle
all over the house whenever anyone washes his hands. I know.

THE MANAGER [gallant]. You are hard to please, mademoiselle.

ERMYNTRUDE. No harder than other people. But when I'm not pleased I'm
not too ladylike to say so. That's all the difference. There is nothing
more, thank you.

The Manager shrugs his shoulders resignedly; makes a deep bow to the
Princess; goes to the door; wafts a kiss surreptitiously to Ermyntrude;
and goes out.

THE PRINCESS. It's wonderful! How have you the courage?

ERMYNTRUDE. In Your Highness's service I know no fear. Your Highness can
leave all unpleasant people to me.

THE PRINCESS. How I wish I could! The most dreadful thing of all I have
to go through myself.

ERMYNTRUDE. Dare I ask what it is, Your Highness?

THE PRINCESS. I'm going to be married. I'm to be met here and married to
a man I never saw. A boy! A boy who never saw me! One of the sons of the
Inca of Perusalem.

ERMYNTRUDE. Indeed? Which son?

THE PRINCESS. I don't know. They haven't settled which. It's a dreadful
thing to be a princess: they just marry you to anyone they like. The
Inca is to come and look at me, and pick out whichever of his sons he
thinks will suit. And then I shall be an alien enemy everywhere except
in Perusalem, because the Inca has made war on everybody. And I shall
have to pretend that everybody has made war on him. It's too bad.

ERMYNTRUDE. Still, a husband is a husband. I wish I had one.

THE PRINCESS. Oh, how can you say that! I'm afraid you're not a nice
woman.

ERMYNTRUDE. Your Highness is provided for. I'm not.

THE PRINCESS. Even if you could bear to let a man touch you, you
shouldn't say so.

ERMYNTRUDE. I shall not say so again, Your Highness, except perhaps to
the man.

THE PRINCESS. It's too dreadful to think of. I wonder you can be so
coarse. I really don't think you'll suit. I feel sure now that you know
more about men than you should.

ERMYNTRUDE. I am a widow, Your Highness.

THE PRINCESS [overwhelmed]. Oh, I BEG your pardon. Of course I ought to
have known you would not have spoken like that if you were not married.
That makes it all right, doesn't it? I'm so sorry.

The Manager returns, white, scared, hardly able to speak.

THE MANAGER. Your Highness, an officer asks to see you on behalf of the
Inca of Perusalem.

THE PRINCESS [rising distractedly]. Oh, I can't, really. Oh, what shall
I do?

THE MANAGER. On important business, he says, Your Highness. Captain
Duval.

ERMYNTRUDE. Duval! Nonsense! The usual thing. It is the Inca himself,
incognito.

THE PRINCESS. Oh, send him away. Oh, I'm so afraid of the Inca. I'm not
properly dressed to receive him; and he is so particular: he would order
me to stay in my room for a week. Tell him to call tomorrow: say I'm ill
in bed. I can't: I won't: I daren't: you must get rid of him somehow.

ERMYNTRUDE. Leave him to me, Your Highness.

THE PRINCESS. You'd never dare!

ERMYNTRUDE. I am an Englishwoman, Your Highness, and perfectly capable
of tackling ten Incas if necessary. I will arrange the matter. [To the
Manager.] Show Her Highness to her bedroom; and then show Captain Duval
in here.

THE PRINCESS. Oh, thank you so much. [She goes to the door. Ermyntrude,
noticing that she has left her hat and gloves on the table, runs after
her with them.] Oh, THANK you. And oh, please, if I must have one of his
sons, I should like a fair one that doesn't shave, with soft hair and a
beard. I couldn't bear being kissed by a bristly person. [She runs out,
the Manager bowing as she passes. He follows her.]

Ermyntrude whips off her waterproof; hides it; and gets herself swiftly
into perfect trim at the mirror, before the Manager, with a large jewel
case in his hand, returns, ushering in the Inca.

THE MANAGER. Captain Duval.

The Inca, in military uniform, advances with a marked and imposing stage
walk; stops; orders the trembling Manager by a gesture to place the
jewel case on the table; dismisses him with a frown; touches his helmet
graciously to Ermyntrude; and takes off his cloak.

THE INCA. I beg you, madam, to be quite at your ease, and to speak to me
without ceremony.

ERMYNTRUDE [moving haughtily and carelessly to the table]. I hadn't the
slightest intention of treating you with ceremony. [She sits down: a
liberty which gives him a perceptible shock.] I am quite at a loss to
imagine why I should treat a perfect stranger named Duval: a captain!
almost a subaltern! with the smallest ceremony.

THE INCA. That is true. I had for the moment forgotten my position.

ERMYNTRUDE. It doesn't matter. You may sit down.

THE INCA [frowning.] What!

ERMYNTRUDE. I said, you...may...sit...down.

THE INCA. Oh. [His moustache droops. He sits down.]

ERMYNTRUDE. What is your business?

THE INCA. I come on behalf of the Inca of Perusalem.

ERMYNTRUDE. The Allerhochst?

THE INCA. Precisely.

ERMYNTRUDE. I wonder does he feel ridiculous when people call him the
Allerhochst.

THE INCA [surprised]. Why should he? He IS the Allerhochst.

ERMYNTRUDE. Is he nice looking?

THE INCA. I--er. Er--I. I--er. I am not a good judge.

ERMYNTRUDE. They say he takes himself very seriously.

THE INCA. Why should he not, madam? Providence has entrusted to his
family the care of a mighty empire. He is in a position of half divine,
half paternal, responsibility towards sixty millions of people, whose
duty it is to die for him at the word of command. To take himself
otherwise than seriously would be blasphemous. It is a punishable
offence--severely punishable--in Perusalem. It is called
Incadisparagement.

ERMYNTRUDE. How cheerful! Can he laugh?

THE INCA. Certainly, madam. [He laughs, harshly and mirthlessly.] Ha ha!
Ha ha ha!

ERMYNTRUDE [frigidly]. I asked could the Inca laugh. I did not ask could
you laugh.

THE INCA. That is true, madam. [Chuckling.] Devilish amusing, that!
[He laughs, genially and sincerely, and becomes a much more agreeable
person.] Pardon me: I am now laughing because I cannot help it. I am
amused. The other was merely an imitation: a failure, I admit.

ERMYNTRUDE. You intimated that you had some business?

THE INCA [producing a very large jewel case, and relapsing into
solemnity.] I am instructed by the Allerhochst to take a careful note
of your features and figure, and, if I consider them satisfactory, to
present you with this trifling token of His Imperial Majesty's regard.
I do consider them satisfactory. Allow me [he opens the jewel case and
presents it.]

ERMYNTRUDE [staring at the contents]. What awful taste he must have! I
can't wear that.

THE INCA [reddening]. Take care, madam! This brooch was designed by the
Inca himself. Allow me to explain the design. In the centre, the shield
of Arminius. The ten surrounding medallions represent the ten castles
of His Majesty. The rim is a piece of the telephone cable laid by His
Majesty across the Shipskeel canal. The pin is a model in miniature of
the sword of Henry the Birdcatcher.

ERMYNTRUDE. Miniature! It must be bigger than the original. My good man,
you don't expect me to wear this round my neck: it's as big as a turtle.
[He shuts the case with an angry snap.] How much did it cost?

THE INCA. For materials and manufacture alone, half a million Perusalem
dollars, madam. The Inca's design constitutes it a work of art. As such,
it is now worth probably ten million dollars.

ERMYNTRUDE. Give it to me [she snatches it]. I'll pawn it and buy
something nice with the money.

THE INCA. Impossible, madam. A design by the Inca must not be exhibited
for sale in the shop window of a pawnbroker. [He flings himself into his
chair, fuming.]

ERMYNTRUDE. So much the better. The Inca will have to redeem it to save
himself from that disgrace; and the poor pawnbroker will get his money
back. Nobody would buy it, you know.

THE INCA. May I ask why?

ERMYNTRUDL. Well, look at it! Just look at it! I ask you!

THE INCA [his moustache drooping ominously]. I am sorry to have to
report to the Inca that you have no soul for fine art. [He rises
sulkily.] The position of daughter-in-law to the Inca is not compatible
with the tastes of a pig. [He attempts to take back the brooch.]

ERMYNTRUDE [rising and retreating behind her chair with the brooch].
Here! you let that brooch alone. You presented it to me on behalf of the
Inca. It is mine. You said my appearance was satisfactory.

THE INCA. Your appearance is not satisfactory. The Inca would not allow
his son to marry you if the boy were on a desert island and you were the
only other human being on it [he strides up the room.]

ERMYNTRUDE [calmly sitting down and replacing the case on the table].
How could he? There would be no clergyman to marry us. It would have to
be quite morganatic.

THE INCA [returning]. Such an expression is out of place in the mouth of
a princess aspiring to the highest destiny on earth. You have the morals
of a dragoon. [She receives this with a shriek of laughter. He struggles
with his sense of humor.] At the same time [he sits down] there is a
certain coarse fun in the idea which compels me to smile [he turns up
his moustache and smiles.]

ERMYNTRUDE. When I marry the Inca's son, Captain, I shall make the Inca
order you to cut off that moustache. It is too irresistible. Doesn't it
fascinate everyone in Perusalem?

THE INCA [leaning forward to her energetically]. By all the thunders of
Thor, madam, it fascinates the whole world.

ERMYNTRUDE. What I like about you, Captain Duval, is your modesty.

THE INCA [straightening up suddenly]. Woman, do not be a fool.

ERMYNTRUDE [indignant]. Well!

THE INCA. You must look facts in the face. This moustache is an exact
copy of the Inca's moustache. Well, does the world occupy itself with
the Inca's moustache or does it not? Does it ever occupy itself with
anything else? If that is the truth, does its recognition constitute
the Inca a coxcomb? Other potentates have moustaches: even beards
and moustaches. Does the world occupy itself with those beards and
moustaches? Do the hawkers in the streets of every capital on the
civilized globe sell ingenious cardboard representations of their faces
on which, at the pulling of a simple string, the moustaches turn up and
down, so--[he makes his moustache turn, up and down several times]? No!
I say No. The Inca's moustache is so watched and studied that it has
made his face the political barometer of the whole continent. When that
moustache goes up, culture rises with it. Not what you call culture;
but Kultur, a word so much more significant that I hardly understand
it myself except when I am in specially good form. When it goes down,
millions of men perish.

ERMYNTRUDE. You know, if I had a moustache like that, it would turn my
head. I should go mad. Are you quite sure the Inca isn't mad?

THE INCA. How can he be mad, madam? What is sanity? The condition of the
Inca's mind. What is madness? The condition of the people who disagree
with the Inca.

ERMYNTRUDE. Then I am a lunatic because I don't like that ridiculous
brooch.

THE INCA. No, madam: you are only an idiot.

ERMYNTRUDE. Thank you.

THE INCA. Mark you: It is not to be expected that you should see eye to
eye with the Inca. That would be presumption. It is for you to accept
without question or demur the assurance of your Inca that the brooch is
a masterpiece.

ERMYNTRUDE. MY Inca! Oh, come! I like that. He is not my Inca yet.

THE INCA. He is everybody's Inca, madam. His realm will yet extend to
the confines of the habitable earth. It is his divine right; and let
those who dispute it look to themselves. Properly speaking, all those
who are now trying to shake his world predominance are not at war with
him, but in rebellion against him.

ERMYNTRUDE. Well, he started it, you know.

THE INCA. Madam, be just. When the hunters surround the lion, the lion
will spring. The Inca had kept the peace of years. Those who attacked
him were steeped in blood, black blood, white blood, brown blood, yellow
blood, blue blood. The Inca had never shed a drop.

ERMYNTRUDE. He had only talked.

THE INCA. Only TALKED! ONLY talked! What is more glorious than talk? Can
anyone in the world talk like him? Madam, when he signed the declaration
of war, he said to his foolish generals and admirals, 'Gentlemen, you
will all be sorry for this.' And they are. They know now that they had
better have relied on the sword of the spirit: in other words, on their
Inca's talk, than on their murderous cannons. The world will one day do
justice to the Inca as the man who kept the peace with nothing but his
tongue and his moustache. While he talked: talked just as I am talking
now to you, simply, quietly, sensibly, but GREATLY, there was peace;
there was prosperity; Perusalem went from success to success. He has
been silenced for a year by the roar of trinitrotoluene and the bluster
of fools; and the world is in ruins. What a tragedy! [He is convulsed
with grief.]

ERMYNTRUDE. Captain Duval, I don't want to be unsympathetic; but suppose
we get back to business.

THE INCA. Business! What business?

ERMYNTRUDE. Well, MY business. You want me to marry one of the Inca's
sons: I forget which.

THE INCA. As far as I can recollect the name, it is His Imperial
Highness Prince Eitel William Frederick George Franz Josef Alexander
Nicholas Victor Emmanuel Albert Theodore Wilson--

ERMYNTRUDE [interrupting]. Oh, please, please, mayn't I have one with a
shorter name? What is he called at home?

THE INCA. He is usually called Sonny, madam. [With great charm of
manner.] But you will please understand that the Inca has no desire to
pin you to any particular son. There is Chips and Spots and Lulu and
Pongo and the Corsair and the Piffler and Jack Johnson the Second,
all unmarried. At least not seriously married: nothing, in short, that
cannot be arranged. They are all at your service.

ERMYNTRUDE. Are they all as clever and charming as their father?

THE INCA [lifts his eyebrows pityingly; shrugs his shoulders; then,
with indulgent paternal contempt]. Excellent lads, madam. Very honest
affectionate creatures. I have nothing against them. Pongo imitates
farmyard sounds--cock crowing and that sort of thing--extremely well.
Lulu plays Strauss's Sinfonia Domestica on the mouth organ really
screamingly. Chips keeps owls and rabbits. Spots motor bicycles. The
Corsair commands canal barges and steers them himself. The Piffler
writes plays, and paints most abominably. Jack Johnson trims ladies'
hats, and boxes with professionals hired for that purpose. He is
invariably victorious. Yes: they all have their different little
talents. And also, of course, their family resemblances. For example,
they all smoke; they all quarrel with one another; and they none of them
appreciate their father, who, by the way, is no mean painter, though the
Piffler pretends to ridicule his efforts.

ERMYNTRUDE. Quite a large choice, eh?

THE INCA. But very little to choose, believe me. I should not recommend
Pongo, because he snores so frightfully that it has been necessary to
build him a sound-proof bedroom: otherwise the royal family would get no
sleep. But any of the others would suit equally well--if you are really
bent on marrying one of them.

ERMYNTRUDE. If! What is this? I never wanted to marry one of them. I
thought you wanted me to.

THE INCA. I did, madam; but [confidentially, flattering her] you are not
quite the sort of person I expected you to be; and I doubt whether
any of these young degenerates would make you happy. I trust I am not
showing any want of natural feeling when I say that from the point of
view of a lively, accomplished, and beautiful woman [Ermyntrude bows]
they might pall after a time. I suggest that you might prefer the Inca
himself.

ERMYNTRUDE. Oh, Captain, how could a humble person like myself be of
any interest to a prince who is surrounded with the ablest and most
far-reaching intellects in the world?

TAE INCA [explosively]. What on earth are you talking about, madam? Can
you name a single man in the entourage of the Inca who is not a born
fool?

ERMYNTRUDE. Oh, how can you say that! There is Admiral von Cockpits--

THE INCA [rising intolerantly and striding about the room]. Von
Cockpits! Madam, if Von Cockpits ever goes to heaven, before three weeks
are over the Angel Gabriel will be at war with the man in the moon.

ERMYNTRUDE. But General Von Schinkenburg--

THE INCA. Schinkenburg! I grant you, Schinkenburg has a genius for
defending market gardens. Among market gardens he is invincible. But
what is the good of that? The world does not consist of market gardens.
Turn him loose in pasture and he is lost. The Inca has defeated all
these generals again and again at manoeuvres; and yet he has to
give place to them in the field because he would be blamed for every
disaster--accused of sacrificing the country to his vanity. Vanity! Why
do they call him vain? Just because he is one of the few men who are not
afraid to live. Why do they call themselves brave? Because they have
not sense enough to be afraid to die. Within the last year the world
has produced millions of heroes. Has it produced more than one Inca? [He
resumes his seat.]

ERMYNTRUDE. Fortunately not, Captain. I'd rather marry Chips.

THE INCA [making a wry face]. Chips! Oh no: I wouldn't marry Chips.

ERMYNTRUDE. Why?

THE INCA [whispering the secret]. Chips talks too much about himself.

ERMYNTRUDE. Well, what about Snooks?

THE INCA. Snooks? Who is he? Have I a son named Snooks? There are so
many--[wearily] so many--that I often forget. [Casually.] But I wouldn't
marry him, anyhow, if I were you.

ERMYNTRUDE. But hasn't any of them inherited the family genius? Surely,
if Providence has entrusted them with the care of Perusalem--if they are
all descended from Bedrock the Great--

THE INCA [interrupting her impatiently]. Madam, if you ask me, I
consider Bedrock a grossly overrated monarch.

ERMYNTRUDE [shocked]. Oh, Captain! Take care! Incadisparagement.

THE INCA. I repeat, grossly overrated. Strictly between ourselves, I
do not believe all this about Providence entrusting the care of sixty
million human beings to the abilities of Chips and the Piffler and Jack
Johnson. I believe in individual genius. That is the Inca's secret. It
must be. Why, hang it all, madam, if it were a mere family matter, the
Inca's uncle would have been as great a man as the Inca. And--well,
everybody knows what the Inca's uncle was.

ERMYNTRUDE. My experience is that the relatives of men of genius are
always the greatest duffers imaginable.

THE INCA. Precisely. That is what proves that the Inca is a man of
genius. His relatives ARE duffers.

ERMYNTRUDE. But bless my soul, Captain, if all the Inca's generals are
incapables, and all his relatives duffers, Perusalem will be beaten in
the war; and then it will become a republic, like France after 1871, and
the Inca will be sent to St Helena.

THE INCA [triumphantly]. That is just what the Inca is playing for,
madam. It is why he consented to the war.

ERMYNTRUDE. What!

THE INCA. Aha! The fools talk of crushing the Inca; but they little know
their man. Tell me this. Why did St Helena extinguish Napoleon?

ERMYNTRUDE. I give it up.

THE INCA. Because, madam, with certain rather remarkable qualities,
which I should be the last to deny, Napoleon lacked versatility. After
all, any fool can be a soldier: we know that only too well in Perusalem,
where every fool is a soldier. But the Inca has a thousand other
resources. He is an architect. Well, St Helena presents an unlimited
field to the architect. He is a painter: need I remind you that St
Helena is still without a National Gallery? He is a composer: Napoleon
left no symphonies in St Helena. Send the Inca to St Helena, madam,
and the world will crowd thither to see his works as they crowd now to
Athens to see the Acropolis, to Madrid to see the pictures of Velasquez,
to Bayreuth to see the music dramas of that egotistical old rebel
Richard Wagner, who ought to have been shot before he was forty, as
indeed he very nearly was. Take this from me: hereditary monarchs are
played out: the age for men of genius has come: the career is open to
the talents: before ten years have elapsed every civilized country from
the Carpathians to the Rocky Mountains will be a Republic.

ERMYNTRUDE. Then goodbye to the Inca.

THE INCA. On the contrary, madam, the Inca will then have his first real
chance. He will be unanimously invited by those Republics to return from
his exile and act as Superpresident of all the republics.

ERMYNTRUDE. But won't that be a come-down for him? Think of it! after
being Inca, to be a mere President!

THE INCA. Well, why not! An Inca can do nothing. He is tied hand and
foot. A constitutional monarch is openly called an India-rubber stamp.
An emperor is a puppet. The Inca is not allowed to make a speech: he
is compelled to take up a screed of flatulent twaddle written by
some noodle of a minister and read it aloud. But look at the American
President! He is the Allerhochst, if you like. No, madam, believe me,
there is nothing like Democracy, American Democracy. Give the people
voting papers: good long voting papers, American fashion; and while the
people are reading the voting papers the Government does what it likes.

ERMYNTRUDE. What! You too worship before the statue of Liberty, like the
Americans?

THE INCA. Not at all, madam. The Americans do not worship the statue
of Liberty. They have erected it in the proper place for a statue of
Liberty: on its tomb [he turns down his moustaches.]

ERMYNTRUDE [laughing]. Oh! You'd better not let them hear you say that,
Captain.

THE INCA. Quite safe, madam: they would take it as a joke. [He rises.]
And now, prepare yourself for a surprise. [She rises]. A shock. Brace
yourself. Steel yourself. And do not be afraid.

ERMYNTRUDE. Whatever on earth can you be going to tell me, Captain?

THE INCA. Madam, I am no captain. I--

ERMYNTRUDE. You are the Inca in disguise.

THE INCA. Good heavens! how do you know that? Who has betrayed me?

ERMYNTRUDE. How could I help divining it, Sir? Who is there in the world
like you? Your magnetism--

THE INCA. True: I had forgotten my magnetism. But you know now that
beneath the trappings of Imperial Majesty there is a Man: simple, frank,
modest, unaffected, colloquial: a sincere friend, a natural human being,
a genial comrade, one eminently calculated to make a woman happy. You,
on the other hand, are the most charming woman I have ever met. Your
conversation is wonderful. I have sat here almost in silence, listening
to your shrewd and penetrating account of my character, my motives, if I
may say so, my talents. Never has such justice been done me: never have
I experienced such perfect sympathy. Will you--I hardly know how to put
this--will you be mine?

ERMYNTRUDE. Oh, Sir, you are married.

THE INCA. I am prepared to embrace the Mahometan faith, which allows a
man four wives, if you will consent. It will please the Turks. But I had
rather you did not mention it to the Inca-ess. If you don't mind.

ERMYNTRUDE. This is really charming of you. But the time has come for
me to make a revelation. It is your Imperial Majesty's turn now to brace
yourself. To steel yourself. I am not the princess. I am--

THE INCA. The daughter of my old friend Archdeacon Daffodil Donkin,
whose sermons are read to me every evening after dinner. I never forget
a face.

ERMYNTRUDE. You knew all along!

THE INCA [bitterly, throwing himself into his chair]. And you supposed
that I, who have been condemned to the society of princesses all my
wretched life, believed for a moment that any princess that ever walked
could have your intelligence!

ERMYNTRUDE. How clever of you, Sir! But you cannot afford to marry me.

THE INCA [springing up]. Why not?

ERMYNTRUDE. You are too poor. You have to eat war bread. Kings nowadays
belong to the poorer classes. The King of England does not even allow
himself wine at dinner.

THE INCA [delighted]. Haw! Ha ha! Haw! haw! [He is convulsed with
laughter, and, finally has to relieve his feelings by waltzing half round
the room.]

ERMYNTRUDE. You may laugh, Sir; but I really could not live in that
style. I am the widow of a millionaire, ruined by your little war.

THE INCA. A millionaire! What are millionaires now, with the world
crumbling?

ERMYNTRUDE. Excuse me: mine was a hyphenated millionaire.

THE INCA. A highfalutin millionaire, you mean. [Chuckling]. Haw! ha ha!
really very nearly a pun, that. [He sits down in her chair.]

ERMYNTRUDE [revolted, sinking into his chair]. I think it quite the
worst pun I ever heard.

THE INCA. The best puns have all been made years ago: nothing remained
but to achieve the worst. However, madam [he rises majestically; and she
is about to rise also]. No: I prefer a seated audience [she falls back
into her seat at the imperious wave of his hand]. So [he clicks his
heels]. Madam, I recognize my presumption in having sought the honor
of your hand. As you say, I cannot afford it. Victorious as I am, I am
hopelessly bankrupt; and the worst of it is, I am intelligent enough
to know it. And I shall be beaten in consequence, because my most
implacable enemy, though only a few months further away from bankruptcy
than myself, has not a ray of intelligence, and will go on fighting
until civilization is destroyed, unless I, out of sheer pity for the
world, condescend to capitulate.

ERMYNTRUDE. The sooner the better, Sir. Many fine young men are dying
while you wait.

THE INCA [flinching painfully]. Why? Why do they do it?

ERMYNTRUDE. Because you make them.

THE INCA. Stuff! How can I? I am only one man; and they are millions.
Do you suppose they would really kill each other if they didn't want
to, merely for the sake of my beautiful eyes? Do not be deceived by
newspaper claptrap, madam. I was swept away by a passion not my own,
which imposed itself on me. By myself I am nothing. I dare not walk down
the principal street of my own capital in a coat two years old, though
the sweeper of that street can wear one ten years old. You talk of
death as an unpopular thing. You are wrong: for years I gave them art,
literature, science, prosperity, that they might live more abundantly;
and they hated me, ridiculed me, caricatured me. Now that I give them
death in its frightfullest forms, they are devoted to me. If you doubt
me, ask those who for years have begged our taxpayers in vain for a
few paltry thousands to spend on Life: on the bodies and minds of the
nation's children, on the beauty and healthfulness of its cities, on
the honor and comfort of its worn-out workers. They refused: and because
they refused, death is let loose on them. They grudged a few hundreds
a year for their salvation: they now pay millions a day for their own
destruction and damnation. And this they call my doing! Let them say it,
if they dare, before the judgment-seat at which they and I shall answer
at last for what we have left undone no less than for what we have done.
[Pulling himself together suddenly.] Madam, I have the honor to be your
most obedient [he clicks his heels and bows].

ERMYNTRUDE. Sir! [She curtsies.]

THE INCA [turning at the door]. Oh, by the way, there is a princess,
isn't there, somewhere on the premises?

ERMYNTRUDE. There is. Shall I fetch her?

THE INCA [dubious], Pretty awful, I suppose, eh?

ERMYNTRUDE. About the usual thing.

THE INCA [sighing]. Ah well! What can one expect? I don't think I need
trouble her personally. Will you explain to her about the boys?

ERMYNTRUDE. I am afraid the explanation will fall rather flat without
your magnetism.

THE INCA [returning to her and speaking very humanly]. You are making
fun of me. Why does everybody make fun of me? Is it fair?

ERMYNTRUDE [seriously]. Yes, it is fair. What other defence have we poor
common people against your shining armor, your mailed fist, your pomp
and parade, your terrible power over us? Are these things fair?

THE INCA. Ah, well, perhaps, perhaps. [He looks at his watch.] By the
way, there is time for a drive round the town and a cup of tea at the
Zoo. Quite a bearable band there: it does not play any patriotic airs.
I am sorry you will not listen to any more permanent arrangement; but if
you would care to come--

ERMYNTRUDE [eagerly]. Ratherrrrrr. I shall be delighted.

THE INCA [cautiously]. In the strictest honor, you understand.

ERMYNTRUDE. Don't be afraid. I promise to refuse any incorrect
proposals.

THE INCA [enchanted]. Oh! Charming woman: how well you understand men!

He offers her his arm: they go out together.





End of Project Gutenberg's The Inca of Perusalem, by George Bernard Shaw