Part 5
[_This produces a great sensation, though many seem to pooh-pooh the tale._]
And still their chanting voices may you hear, Give Glory to the Father, to the Son, And to the Holy Spirit.... Three in One!
[_She pauses, impressively, and indeed at this moment may be heard a sweet, faint sound, as of boys’ voices, seeming to issue from the mountain._]
THE PRIEST.
’Tis the Cathedral choir that practises!
THE SCHOOLMASTER.
Thus fact of fantasy disposes, mocks An old wife’s tale!
THE OLD SLAVE WOMAN.
I give you what I heard! If it displease you, punish me ... but not My boy, my Constantine!... If proof you lack Another stone rolled down, rough-hewn will show A cross to mock their sleeping-place!
THE SCHOOLMASTER.
[_Seizing a tool._]
Deathblow To fiction, first am I to strike!
THE PRIEST.
[_Also seizing a tool._]
So I To superstition!
THE MAGISTRATE.
[_Doing the same._]
I to mutiny!
[_Assisted by willing hands the three roll down the stone indicated by the old SLAVE WOMAN. As the cloud of dust it raises subsides a cry arises from all, for on the side of the mountain thus exposed is seen rough-hewn a cross. All now hasten to clear away the rubble beneath this, and soon the entrance to a cave is visible. A ray of light, as from a sunbeam, falls athwart this opening, whereupon there is a faint cock-crow within the cave. So great a panic does this cause that most of the people run away, the MAGISTRATE, the PRIEST, and the SCHOOLMASTER in the lead. Only the SCHOOLBOYS remain with the FRIEND. Then, one by one the people creep back, the OLD SLAVE WOMAN and her grandson first, and the officials last and most cautiously of all._]
THE SEVEN SLEEPERS.
[_Within the cave call one to another._]
What, ho! ’Tis morning! See the sun hath risen!
[_One by one yawning and stretching they come from the cave._]
CONSTANTINE [_the Sleeper_].
After night’s tempest, ah, how sweet the morn! But ... what a change! All hushed the frenzied din That rent the skies of yesterday! No more The market-place runs blood, with fire and sword As man hunts down his fellow-creatures! Calm The city rests, and rises like a song The hum of gently avocationed lives And happy people! And ... surely I dream! Above the city gate a cross ... the cross Of Christos ... Him for love of whom we fled, Were prisoned here last night!
THE SCHOOLMASTER.
[_Explaining._]
That night, how long! A century and half a century!
[_All hush him, though the young SLEEPER seems not to have heard him, nor indeed to be aware that others are present._]
IOANNES [_the Sleeper_].
[_Coming forth._]
Let’s to the river and skip oyster-shells, Or sail our galleys! ’Tis a holiday. ’Tis Artemision!
THE PRIEST.
[_Kindly correcting._]
Come, come, my child; Forbear such terms and call it Easter!
[_The other watchers silence him, though still the SLEEPERS fail to notice them._]
DION [_the Sleeper_].
[_Coming forth._]
Fine weather for the games! Ho, Maximus! I’ll race you to the city gate and back!
MAXIMUS [_the Sleeper_].
[_Coming forth._]
Wait, Dion, till I get my breath! [_Yawns._] How stiff My muscles! [_Stretching._]
DION AND MAXIMUS [_the Schoolboys_].
[_Advancing with outstretched hands._]
Dion and Maximus, Even as we, come to the stadion!
[_But the others fail to see them or to heed the invitation._]
MARTINUS [_the Sleeper_].
[_Coming forth._]
That loaf of bread my mother sent me for I was forgetting it! That tetradrachm She bade me change, where is it?... I forgot! At flipcoin lost I it to Malchus!
MARTINUS [_the Schoolboy_].
Just As I did!
MALCHUS [_the Sleeper_].
[_Coming forth, carrying a basket._]
Here, Martinus! Take your coin! We slept on it, Aléxandros and I! Your mother’s is it, so not yours to lose, Nor mine to win!
MARTINUS [_the Sleeper_].
[_Accepting the coin the other holds out to him._]
I thank you, Malchus!
MALCHUS [_the Schoolboy_].
I, Too, thank you, namesake mine! Martinus, here! Take back your mother’s tetradrachm!
MARTINUS [_the Schoolboy_].
[_Accepting the coin his friend holds out to him._]
Malchus, I say, that’s fine!
SERAPÍON [_the Sleeper_].
My Æsop’s fables must I get by heart! “A nightingale did sing ... did sing ... did sing....”
SERAPÍON [_the Schoolboy_].
[_Prompting._]
“When hungry hawk espied her!” My name is Serapíon, too!
SERAPÍON [_the Sleeper_].
[_Seeing him._]
Oh, what a funny looking little boy!
SERAPÍON [_the Schoolboy_].
Funny looking yourself! I knew more of the fable than you did, anyway!
SERAPÍON [_the Sleeper_].
[_To his fellows._]
Look! A little boy!... And, oh, crowds and crowds of people!
THE OTHER SLEEPERS.
No, dear child! There’s no one but ourselves!
SERAPÍON [_the Sleeper_].
But I see them clearly!... Come and play with me!
[_To the other SERAPÍON._]
SERAPÍON [_the Schoolboy_].
[_Timidly advancing._]
I’d like to, but ... somehow ... you seem ... not real.... No, I don’t mean that! But just as if you came out of a dream!
SERAPÍON [_the Sleeper_].
Dream yourself! Why, as I look at you you fade and fade away ... and now I don’t see you at all!... Constantine, is it true we shall be put to death for loving Christos?
THE OTHER SLEEPERS.
[_Suddenly recalling their plight._]
Aye; truth is it, or dream?
CONSTANTINE [_the Sleeper_].
Dream of a night Forever vanished!... Listen to the song Praising the God of Love!
[_Clear and sweet rises the sound of the Gloria. The SLEEPERS, rejoicing, seek to join in it, but their voices fail them._]
SERAPÍON [_the Sleeper_].
Home ... then may we go home?
THE OTHER SLEEPERS.
Home! That’s the word! May we go home?
[_The FRIEND stands forth, and a radiance comes from him. CONSTANTINE the Sleeper sees him, and exclaims, joyfully._]
CONSTANTINE [_the Sleeper_].
Home, home! Here is a friend Will guide us!
[_THE FRIEND passes quietly from the scene, a light streaming from the direction he has taken. THE SLEEPERS stretch their hands toward him, with a joyful cry._]
THE SEVEN SLEEPERS.
Lead, Master! We follow ... follow ... home!
[_Even while speaking they sink down on the ground near the cave, and close their eyes as if in sleep. The EMPEROR and his suite approach, as if they had been looking on, near by, and fall reverently on their knees, their example being followed by the multitude, while the chant rises ever more clear and sweet. The Seven SCHOOLBOYS pluck brightly flowering branches and lay these beside the SLEEPERS and shower blossoms over them. And so the scene fades from our sight._]
PRINCESS MOSS-ROSE
_For Every Child’s Birthday_
GREETING TO THE AUDIENCE
Spoken in front of the curtain
by
THE CHILD WHOSE BIRTHDAY IT IS
To-day it is my birthday. Yes! Now who this group among Can guess, I wonder, just how old I am, or just how young: One, two, three, four, five, six, or seven; eight, nine, ten, or ... stay! I’m one year older than I was this same hour yesterday! Wait till you see my birthday cake in which a candle burns For every year I’ve lived, plus one for luck and glad returns!
I’ve read that children carefully their birthdays ought to keep, And yet how can we, when they come, and go, when we’re asleep? Still, if you’ll kindly help me keep this one I’ll do my best That no one ... no, not even Time, shall rob me of the rest! Then when I’m very, very old I’ll tell you what I’ll do: I’ll give those birthdays all away. And some I’ll give to you!
PRINCESS MOSS-ROSE
_We shall now witness THREE EVENTS in the Life of the PRINCESS MOSS-ROSE. These take place in the hall of her father’s castle. Besides the PRINCESS herself her parents, the KING and QUEEN, will assist at the EVENTS, also the COURT: the LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR, the ROYAL NURSE, GOVERNESS, BUTLER, COOK, GARDENER, and LORDS and LADIES OF QUALITY. HUNTSMEN, PAGES and LACKEYS, too, will come and go as they are needed. Then there is a FROG of high degree in Frogdom, who will receive the knightly accolade, thereafter being known as SIR AMPHIBIOUS BATRACHIAN, with the right also to call himself BARON FRESHWATER. TWO TADPOLES who grow up into rather grouchy, rheumatic elderly FROGS are of his retinue. The THREE FATES and DESTINY have inconspicuous, but important parts in the EVENTS. Then we shall also see several FRAGMENTS of KINGS’ SONS who have perished in their quest for the fabled MOSS-ROSE, and, accompanied by his tutor, MENTOR, the victorous King’s Son, PRINCE CHARMING. Sixteen years divide the SECOND EVENT from the first, and one hundred years the THIRD from the SECOND. These passages of time, however, touch our royal friends but lightly, and do not cause their royal clothes to wear out, or their royal furniture to become shabby in the least. The scene is laid in the hall of the KING’S castle, an apartment of suitable magnificence. Entrances lead to banqueting-hall, servants’ offices, and other parts of the establishment. Windows overlook the attractive grounds with a glimpse of the forest beyond._
_THE FIRST EVENT_
_shows a pleasant morning in summer. THE KING and his HUNTSMEN are assembled in the hall, singing a jovial hunting-chorus, while without the DOGS bay, and the HORSES champ with proper impatience for the start._
HUNTING CHORUS
Ho, Yoicks! ho! Hey, tally-ho! A-hunting, hunting, hunting; a-hunting will we go! We’ll hunt by day, and we’ll hunt by dark; We’ll hunt the slipper, we’ll hunt the snark; The lion, tiger and buffalo, We’ll hunt them all, Ho, Yoicks, ho! We’ll hunt the bulrush and bull-moose, We’ll hunt mongander and mongoose! We’ll hunt the pole-cat, polar bear, The hairy musk-ox and the hare, We’ll hunt the dodo, dinosaur, The wild-boar and tame, talking bore! Aye, all the beasts in Noah’s Ark We’ll hunt by day and hunt by dark! And every one of them, you’ll see, Will love the sport as much as we, Because to kill is not our aim, Or hurt, since that would spoil the game! So, Yoicks, so, Hey, tally-ho! A-hunting, hunting, hunting; a-hunting will we go!
[_At the close of the HUNTING SONG the KING and his suite are about to go when the LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR enters with as much haste as his girth and dignity allow._]
THE CHANCELLOR.
The King, the King, where is the King!... Oh, Sire, I feared I should be too late! Her Majesty the Queen begs you to forego your day’s hunting, as she has a piece of news of the utmost importance to communicate to you!
THE KING.
My dear Lord High Chancellor, I am always most anxious to please the Queen, as well you know, but as you can see and hear for yourself, the nettlesome steeds are saddled, and are champing and pawing the ground, the hounds are baying, and all the wild animals in the royal forest are gnashing their teeth and growling fearsomely, impatient for the day’s sport to begin!
THE CHANCELLOR.
Nevertheless, Sire, under the circumstances ... the extraordinary circumstances....
THE KING.
Does the Queen’s news concern itself with house-cleaning the castle? Or is Her Majesty desirous of purchasing a new crown? If so, can’t you suggest to her to get the old one turned and made over? The jewels in it are not in the least shabby; they are as good as new, in fact!
THE CHANCELLOR.
Sire, this is more important even than a crown! Here comes the Queen herself to tell you all about it!
[_THE QUEEN enters to a flourish of trumpets, attended by her LADIES. Following these comes the ROYAL NURSE bearing a tiny infant, wrapped in a magnificent silken coverlet. THE NURSE stands in the background, with the LADIES, while the QUEEN converses with the KING._]
THE QUEEN.
Oh, my dear, what luck to have caught you!
THE KING.
How can I serve my gracious consort?
THE QUEEN.
[_About to tell him the news._] Listen, then, and I’ll begin at the beginning.
THE KING.
As you please! Hark! What noise is that!
[_He listens, while a slight wail issues from the bundle the NURSE carries._]
THE QUEEN.
Guess!
THE KING.
If it is the throne-room door that is screaking it had better be oiled!
[_Protesting exclamations rise from all the LADIES and the NURSE at this prosaic idea._]
THE QUEEN.
[_Amused, as if it were a game._] Oh, cold, cold!
THE KING.
If any of the Dukes have on new boots that creak they must be banished from Court for a while. Boots should be seen but not heard!
THE QUEEN AND THE LADIES.
Boots, indeed! Cold, cold!
THE KING.
There it goes again. Sounds like a kitten, or a little squealing pig!
[_The QUEEN, NURSE and LADIES protest violently._]
THE CHANCELLOR.
Warm—in the temperate zone!
THE KING.
I have it. It’s a mechanical toy. One of those dolls from Paris that say “Papa, Mama,” when you pinch them!
[_ALL laugh at this._]
THE QUEEN.
Hot! Getting hot! My dear, suppose it were a doll, what should we wish for?
THE KING.
I don’t know, I’m sure! Is it a doll?
THE QUEEN.
It most certainly is not!
THE KING.
Then what is the use of wishing anything, or of guessing what we should wish for, if it were a doll!... Mayn’t I go hunting now?
THE QUEEN.
No! You darling stupid, I shall have to tell you! But let me begin at the beginning.
THE KING.
[_With resignation._] As you please! Only that Bengalese tiger does so hate to be kept waiting.! [_ALL sit._]
THE QUEEN.
This morning I went into the garden to watch the gardener set out the rose bed, and while sitting there beside the fountain a great big frog jumped out of the basin, and spoke to me. It is true that he splashed me a wee bit, but he apologised so prettily I didn’t really mind! “Good morning, fair Queen,” said he. “I know wherefore you are sad!”
THE KING.
Oh! But were you sad?
THE QUEEN.
No! But that’s what he said! “Cease weeping and dry your lovely eyes,” he then went on!
THE KING.
But were you weeping, and did you dry your lovely eyes?
THE QUEEN.
No, I can’t say I was or did! However that’s what he said!
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Explains._] Queens and princesses generally weep beside a fountain, Sire! You’ll find it here in the “Book of Royal Etiquette”! [_He turns over the leaves of a huge volume._] It is customary for them accidentally to drop a precious ring into its green depths, and then to shed tears over it!
THE KING.
I see! Go on, my love!
THE QUEEN.
The frog continued, “It is your birthday!” “Oh,” I replied, “I know that! And I’m sure the dear King is going to surprise me with a beautiful present!”
THE KING.
Of course! I was just on my way to inquire why it has not been sent!
THE QUEEN.
But it has been sent! It is here! That is the great news! That is what the frog told me! “Go home,” said he, “and look in your work-basket, and see what you will find all rolled up in the red and yellow comforter you are knitting for a surprise for the King on his birthday!” And there indeed I found it! And, oh, nothing else in all the world could have given me one millionth part of the pleasure!
THE KING.
I thought you’d like it. Is it becoming? Does it fit?
THE QUEEN.
Eh?
THE KING.
I told them to send the very latest style, but you can have it changed if it isn’t the right size!
THE QUEEN.
It is perfect in every respect, absolutely perfect! Eh, my Ladies?
THE LADIES.
[_Enthusiastically._] Yes, indeed, Your Majesty!
THE KING.
Good!... Whatever is that queer noise?
THE QUEEN.
Why, didn’t you know it could do that?
THE KING.
It sounded very different in the shop! But we can get the piano-tuner to attend to it!
THE CHANCELLOR.
His Majesty is so full of humour!
THE QUEEN.
Come and have a peep at it!
[_THE NURSE approaches with her precious bundle, but the KING draws back._]
THE KING.
Those little kinds are so snappish! Did they send the collar and the chain?
THE QUEEN.
Now, my love, I know you are very absent-minded! Last year when I wanted a diamond bracelet you got me a silver thimble, but when it comes to a little daughter ... a sweet little baby daughter...!
THE KING.
Bless my soul ... a daughter! To be sure! I hope they packed her carefully!
THE LADIES.
Her Royal Highness is perfect! Absolutely the loveliest baby that ever was!
THE KING.
[_Looking at the baby which is now presented for his closer inspection._] As babies go she really is ... well, she is a baby! My Lord High Chancellor, what does one say to them?
THE CHANCELLOR.
I have been looking that up, Sire, and I find that “Diddums wasms” is not unacceptable in the earlier stages of conversation with little Royal Highnesses!
THE KING.
[_As if learning a lesson._] Diddums wasms! Wasms Diddums! I never shall remember that!
THE CHANCELLOR.
How about simple Duckums, or Ooo-galloo-galloo?
THE KING.
[_Experiments with these._] That’s better. [_He turns again to the group._] Now what shall we do to celebrate this joyful occasion? Suppose I go a-hunting and bring in a pretty spotted leopard, a great, big, huggy bear, or a gaudy tiger with orange stripes to play with the little one!
THE CHANCELLOR.
The usual thing, Sire, is to hold a feast ... a christening feast!
THE QUEEN.
Yes, my dear; our child must have a name! Now what shall it be?
THE CHANCELLOR.
Why not call the Princess after Your Majesties?
THE KING.
Too commonplace. I am King Johannes, Ivor, Ivan, Ian, Giovanni, Juan, John! And the Queen is Marietta, Marina, Marequita, Marioletta, Polyanthus Mary! No; we want something more distinguished! Now who has something to suggest? Begin with A.
THE LADIES.
[_One after another._] Abel, Abraham, Apple-dumpling, Andalusia, Artichoke.
THE KING.
Artichoke! That’s a good name for a baby!
THE CHANCELLOR.
That’s a boy’s name, Sire!
THE KING.
Why not Asparagus—Gussie for short?
THE CHANCELLOR.
Too kitchen-gardeny!
THE KING.
Well, let’s try B. Benjamin, Bohemia, Bank-account, Bootblack, Baronet....
THE CHANCELLOR.
Too masculine!
THE KING.
Well, then, go on with C.
THE LADIES.
[_Suggesting in turn._] Calico, Caramel.... That’s a sweet one! Crystal-gazer, Caraway-seed....
THE QUEEN.
My dear, why not name her after a flower?
THE KING.
Good! What flower begins with C? I have it: Cauliflower! Or Castor-Oil bean! Columbine!
THE QUEEN.
No, no! Let us call her after the queen of flowers, rose! And as the gardener was just setting out one when the frog accosted me, why not Moss-Rose?
ALL.
Oh, yes; Moss-Rose! Princess Moss-Rose!
THE KING.
I like that! There’s something soft and tender about it! It moves me to tears, or at least to a tear! That is, if the Lord High Chancellor has no objection, and I can find my pocket-handkerchief!
THE CHANCELLOR.
Tears on the part of Your Majesty are quite appropriate! Let the Court Chronicler note that the King shed tears!
THE KING.
A tear ... a single one! I insist that history shall not be falsified!
THE CHANCELLOR.
A single tear.... Really, Sire, it is never done! Try and screw out another, I beg!
THE KING.
Oh, have it your own way, then! Tears! [_He wipes his eyes, and the COURT CHRONICLER records the episode._]
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Considering._] Moss-Rose. And for extra names without which, of course, no person of royal birth should be, the Princess can have the botanical terms, Rosa Centifolia, Rosaceæ!
THE QUEEN.
I don’t think I want my baby called that!
THE CHANCELLOR.
Madam, no one would ever think of using these! But Royal Persons have to own them!
THE QUEEN.
Oh, then, it is all right! Now we must choose godparents! For godmothers I want all the wise women and good fairies in the kingdom! Because instead of the usual commonplace sterling silver mug they will bestow on our child blessings: virtues and talents!
THE KING.
A capital idea! Have we their names, my Lord High Chancellor?
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Referring to a volume._] The latest census gives the list: Fairy Good-Looks, Fairy Good-Heart, Fairy Good-Temper, and Fairy Good-Manners!
THE KING AND QUEEN.
Excellent!
THE CHANCELLOR.
Then there are the Wise Women: Dame Honesty, Dame Diligence, Dame Order and Dame Thrift. Then there’s Lady Generosity and Countess Courage!
THE QUEEN.
Oh, we must have them all, every one!
THE KING.
[_Agreeing._] Surely! Every blessed one!
THE CHANCELLOR.
Then there are those two old-fashioned gentlewomen whom everybody respects, the Sisters Purity and Piety!
THE QUEEN.
Oh, these above all!
THE KING.
By all means! Let Heralds be sent forth north, south, east and west, inviting them! What about the godfather?
THE CHANCELLOR.
Some neighbouring potentate. Some reigning monarch!
THE KING.
[_Demurring._] Um-m-m! They’re all so uneducated! They only talk foreign languages. And I never can feel sociable with people through an interpreter!
THE QUEEN.
My dear, I have a suggestion. I know you’ll think it odd, but why not that dear, delightful frog who brought me the joyful news?
THE KING.
Hm! A frog for godfather. Is that ever done, my Lord High Chancellor?
THE CHANCELLOR.
I can’t at this moment recall an instance, Sire, but I’ll look it up!
[_He consults a volume._]
THE QUEEN.
He has charming manners. And he would not mind being splashed if he held the baby at the font!
THE KING.
I wonder if it would be considered anarchistic by the populace?
THE CHANCELLOR.
You could bestow a title on him. Puss-In-Boots was knighted, I find!
THE KING.
I wonder how he would mix in with the rest of the company. For example, however would he sit down to table?
THE QUEEN.
Why not have a large finger-bowl, or a sitz-bath, placed on a chair for him?
THE CHANCELLOR.
A very happy suggestion on the part of Your Majesty! But....
THE QUEEN.
And what a figure he would make at the Court ball! I’m sure he can do the latest dances beautifully!
THE KING.
I’ll take it under consideration. It is not a matter in which to act hastily!... Whatever noise is that? Surely not another birthday present!
[_THE FROG is heard approaching with a measured ker-plunk._]
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Looking down the corridor._] Why, speak of a distinguished visitor, and here he comes!
THE HERALD.
[_Blows a blast._]
THE BUTLER.
[_Announces._] The Honorable Mr. Frog of Frog-Pond!
[_THE FROG enters. He wears high rubber boots, and carries a storm-coat over his arm._]
THE QUEEN.
My dear Mr. Frog, how kind this is!
THE FROG.
Not at all! How-do! How-do!
THE QUEEN.
[_Presenting._] The King. The Princess Royal. The Lord High Chancellor. The Court.
THE FROG.