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GEORGE BERNARD SHAW >> The Inca of Perusalem
This etext was produced by Eve Sobol, South Bend, Indiana, USA
THE INCA OF PERUSALEM: AN ALMOST HISTORICAL COMEDIETTA
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
œ150 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 Highess, 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.