Short Plays

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 comedown 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 Allerhöchst, 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.