Books: The Inca of Perusalem
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GEORGE BERNARD SHAW >> The Inca of Perusalem
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.