Complete Works of J. M. Barrie

by Unknown

  LEONORA. Oh?

  CAPTAIN R. Absurd!

  LEONORA. I don’t see why it should be so absurd.

  CAPTAIN R. You don’t tell me you would come here if you knew a murderess had been invited?

  LEONORA. I did know she had been invited.

  CAPTAIN R. Ah, of course there is some explanation.

  LEONORA (brightly). Yes, it is really all right. I thought at first that you were to be fussy about it.

  CAPTAIN R. Fussy! Would you mind telling me about this woman?

  LEONORA. She was in a railway carriage with her little girl. A man came into the carriage, and he put down the window. She was quite polite. She said, ‘Would you mind keeping the window up, because my little girl has a cold?’ He said, ‘I’m sorry, but I feel stifled unless I have a window open.’ (She looks to see if Captain Rattray is taking in the enormity of this man’s behaviour.)

  CAPTAIN R. (attentively). Yes?

  LEONORA She was splendidly patient. She said, ‘But my little girl has a cold. Please to shut the window.’ He refused. Then there was nothing else for her to do, was there?

  CAPTAIN R. (rather breathless). What did she do?

  LEONORA. She opened the door and pushed him out.

  CAPTAIN R. You don’t mean he was killed?

  LEONORA. Yes, he fell on the line and killed himself.

  CAPTAIN R. Before her eyes?

  LEONORA. The train was going rather fast, but she had just time to see him go bump.

  CAPTAIN R. What a dreadful — And then?

  LEONORA (finishing her story). Then she put up the window. Nothing so very dreadful, you see.

  CAPTAIN R. (dazed). Is this England?

  LEONORA (huffily). Oh, if you are to take it in that way.

  captain R. This man —

  LEONORA. Of course you take the man’s side.

  CAPTAIN R. (exasperated). You talk as if you didn’t blame her.

  LEONORA (patiently). Haven’t I told you that her little girl had a cold.

  CAPTAIN R. Damn her little girl!

  LEONORA (imperious). Leave me. Go and dine somewhere else. Eat your hat.

  CAPTAIN R. But I — but —

  LEONORA (again making for the leads). And I came here specially to meet you. I broke another engagement to meet you.

  CAPTAIN R. (doddering). What? I was told she DID that. Don’t tell me you are this woman!

  LEONORA. Yes, I am the woman — and I wish you had been the man! (She sinks down by the window, but whether she is sobbing or laughing it would need a woman to say, such as MRS.

  tovey, who now returns in evening dress.)

  MRS TOVEY (finding herself plunged in drama.) Dearest, whatever is the matter?

  (leonora still hides her countenance.)

  Captain Rattray? I am so delighted. But I don’t understand.

  LEONORA (through her fingers). He has been calling me the most awful names.

  MRS. TOVEY. Do you know each other?

  CAPTAIN R. (sternly). I wish we didn’t, Mrs. TOVEY.

  LEONORA (shrinking). He wants to mast-head me!

  MRS. TOVEY. Really, Captain Rattray. (But she suspects those heaving shoulders of LEONORA.)

  (MR. TOVEY comes.)

  TOVEY. So sorry to be late, Leonora. Well, what do you think of the great man, Laura? Doesn’t come up to expectation, does he? But they never do. Hullo, anything wrong?

  LEONORA (appealing). Jack, he says I pushed a man out of a railway carriage.

  CAPTAIN R. I said it!

  LEONORA. There he goes again!

  TOVEY. But how did you get to know about that, Rattray?

  CAPTAIN R. You told me of the woman, and she has admitted that it was she.

  TOVEY. I’m lost!

  MRS. TOVEY. Jack, you are incorrigible!

  LEONORA. Tell him, Jack.

  TOVEY. Bobbin, it’s all right. Leonora never actually did it. It is just the sort of thing that we often say of her she would do. So silly about her brats, you know.

  (The Captain is unspeakably relieved.)

  LEONORA (reproachful). How could you think such a thing of me?

  CAPTAIN R. (with equal justice). Why did you deceive me?

  LEONORA (sweetly). To pay you back for the melon.

  CAPTAIN R. (as it becomes clearer). I’m glad. But, I say, I am so sorry I made you cry.

  MRS. TOVEY (merciless to the real delinquent). You didn’t make her cry, Captain Rattray.

  LEONORA. At any rate my eyes are red — oh, dear, and so many people coming.

  MRS. TOVEY. Many people? Whatever makes you think that?

  LEONORA. Captain Rattray said sol CAPTAIN R. You told me of seven ladies, Jack.

  (MRS. TOVEY bestows on her husband the sad look of wives.)

  MRS. TOVEY. Jack, why doesn’t the law let me give you up!

  TOVEY. The fact is, Bobbin — you see, Leonora — I — ah — the fact is —

  (The dinner announcement comes opportunely.)

  LEONORA (only half enlightened). But — but — the others? Aren’t we to wait for them?

  CAPTAIN R. (still entirely benighted). Yes, the other guests — all those ladies?

  TOVEY. You thick-headed sailor-man, give my wife your arm and come into dinner. There are no other ladies. This lady — is all those ladies.

  LEONORA (as she goes into dinner with him). You wretch, Jack!

  CAPTAIN R. (who needs a moment longer to grasp it). All the seven? But how can — I see it, I see it. Mrs. TOVEY, she is all the seven!

  MRS. TOVEY. She is indeed — and some more. (She takes his arm.) — , captain r. Just one other word; is she a widow?

  MRS. TOVEY. Yes.

  CAPTAIN R. Good!

  DER TAG (THE TRAGIC MAN)

  CHARACTERS

  Emperor

  Chancellor

  Officer

  Spirit of Culture

  “DER TAG”

  A bare chamber lighted by a penny dip which casts shadows. On a hard chair by a table sits an Emperor in thought. To him come his Chancellor and an Officer.

  Chancellor. Your Imperial Majesty ——

  Officer. Sire ——

  Emperor (the Emperor rises). Is that the paper?

  (Indicating a paper in the Chancellor’s hand.)

  Chancellor (presenting it). It awaits only your Imperial Majesty’s signature.

  Officer. When you have signed that paper, Sire, the Fatherland will be at war with France and Russia.

  Emperor. At last, this little paper ——

  Chancellor. Not of the value of a bird’s feather until it has your royal signature. The ——

  Emperor. Then it will sing round the planet. The vibration of it will not pass in a hundred years. My friend, how still the world has grown since I raised this pen! All Europe’s listening. Europe! That’s Germany, when I have signed! And yet ——

  Officer. Your Imperial Majesty is not afraid to sign?

  Emperor (flashing). Afraid!

  Officer (abject). Oh, Sire!

  Emperor. I am irresistible to-day! “Red blood boils in my veins. To me every open door is the gift of a world! I hear a thousand nightingales! I would eat all the elephants in Hindustan and pick my teeth with the spire of Strassburg Cathedral.”

  Officer. That is the Fatherland to-day. Such as we are, that you have made us, each seeking to copy you in so far as man can repeat his deity. It was you fashioned us into a sword, Sire, and now the sword must speak.

  Emperor (approvingly). There the sword spoke — and yet the wise one said: “Take not your enemies together, but separately, lest the meal go to them instead of to you.” One at a time. (To Chancellor) Why am I not a friend of Russia till France is out of the way, or France’s friend until the bear is muzzled? That was your part.

  Chancellor. For that I strove, but their mean minds suspected me. Sire, your signature!

  Emperor. What of Britain?

  Officer (intently). This — The Day, to which we have so often drunk,
draws near!

  Emperor. The Day! To The Day! (All salute The Day with their swords.) But when?

  Officer. Now, if she wants it!

  Emperor. There is no road to Britain — until our neighbors are subdued. Then, for us, there will be no roads that do not lead to Britain.

  Chancellor (suavely). Your Imperial Majesty, Britain will not join in just now.

  Emperor. If I was sure of that!

  Chancellor. I vouch for it. So well we’ve chosen our time, it finds her at issue with herself, her wild women let loose, her colonies ready to turn against her, Ireland aflame, the paltry British Army sulking with the civic powers.

  Emperor. These wounds might heal suddenly if German bugles sounded. It is a land that in the past has done things.

  Officer. In the past, your Imperial Majesty, but in the past alone lies Britain’s greatness.

  Emperor. Yes, that’s the German truth. Britain has grown dull and sluggish; a belly of a land, she lies overfed; no dreams within her such as keep powers alive — and timid, too — without red blood in her, but in its stead a thick, yellowish fluid. The most she’ll play for is her own safety. Pretend to grant her that and she’ll seek her soft bed again. Britain’s part in the world’s making is done. “I was,” her epitaph.

  Chancellor. How well you know her, Sire! All she needs is some small excuse for saying, “I acted in the best interests of my money-bags.” That excuse I’ve found for her. I have promised in your name a secret compact with her, that if she stands aloof the parts of France we do not at present need we will not at present take.

  Emperor. A secret bargain over the head of France, her friend! Surely an infamous proposal.

  Chancellor. The British Government will not think so. Trust me to know them, Sire. Your signature?

  Emperor (gleaming). I can fling a million men within the week across the border by way of Alsace and Lorraine.

  Officer (with a frown). There are a hundred gates to open that way.

  Emperor. My guns shall open them.

  Officer (with meaning). You can think of no easier road, Sire?

  Emperor. I think of it night and day.

  Officer. One further north — through Belgium?

  Emperor. If I could dare! But no, that road is barred.

  Officer (misunderstanding). On the contrary, Sire ——

  Emperor. Barred by a fortress no gun of mine may bear against — by honor, by my plighted word.

  Officer. Yet, Sire ——

  Emperor (after hesitating). No, no! I will not so stain my name.

  Chancellor. I am with you, Sire, but I fear it will not be so with France. She has grown cynical. She will find the road through Belgium.

  Emperor. You seek to tempt me. She also signed the treaty.

  Chancellor. Your Imperial Majesty judges others by yourself. I have private ground for fearing that in the greed for a first advantage France will call the treaty but a scrap of paper.

  Emperor. I think your private ground may be your own private newspaper.

  Chancellor. She will say that necessity knows no law, or some such dastard words.

  Emperor. Belgium is no craven. She will fight the betrayer.

  Chancellor. France will hack her way through her.

  Emperor. My Chancellor, that is a hideous phrase.

  Chancellor. I ask your pardon, Sire. It came, somehow, pat to my lips.

  Officer. Your Imperial Majesty, the time passes. Will it please you to sign?

  Chancellor. Bonaparte would have acted quickly.

  Emperor. Bonaparte!

  Chancellor. The paper, Sire.

  Emperor. Leave it now with me. Return in an hour and you shall have it signed.

  Officer (warningly). The least delay ——

  Chancellor. Overmuch reflection ——

  Emperor. I wish to be alone.

  (They retire respectfully, but anxious. He is left alone in thought.)

  Emperor. Even a King’s life is but a day, and in his day the sun is only at its zenith once. This is my zenith; others will come to Germany, but not to me. The world pivots on me tonight. They said Bonaparte, coupling me with him. To dim Napoleon! Paris in three weeks — say four, to cover any chance miscalculation; Russia on her back in six, with Poland snapping at her, and then, after a breathing space, we reach — The Day! We sweep the English Channel, changing its name as we embark, and cross by way of Calais, which will have fallen easily into our hands, the British fleet destroyed — for that is part of the plan — Dover to London is a week of leisured marching, and London itself, unfortified and panic-stricken, falls in a day! Væ victis! I’ll leave conquered Britain some balls to play with, so that there shall be no uprising. Next I carve America in great mouthfuls for my colonists, for now I strike the seas. It’s all so docketed. I feel it’s as good as done before I set forth to do it. Dictator of the world! And all for pacific ends. For once, the whole is mine. We come at last to the great desideratum, a universal peace. Rulers over all! God in the heavens, I upon the earth — we two! (Raising his brows threateningly) And there are still the Zeppelins! I’ll sign!

  (He sits in thought. He is very tired, and soon he is asleep. The lighting becomes strange; he dreams, and we see his dream. The Spirit of Culture appears, a noble female figure in white robes.)

  Emperor. Who’s that?

  Culture. A friend. I am Culture, who has so long hovered well-placed over happy Germany.

  Emperor (who gives her royal honor). A friend — a consort! I would hear you say, O Queen, that I have done some things for you.

  Culture. You have done much for me. I have held my head higher since you were added to the roll of sovereigns. I may have smiled at you at times, as when you seemed to think that you were the two of us in one, but as Kings go you have been a worthy King.

  Emperor. It was all done for you.

  Culture. So, for long, I thought. I looked upon Germany’s golden granaries, plucked from ground once barren; its busy mills and furnaces, its outstretching commerce and teeming people and noble seats of learning, all mellowing in the sun, and I heard you say they were dedicate to me, and I was proud. You have honored me, my Emperor, and now I am here to be abased by you. All the sweet garments you have robed me in, tear them off me and send me naked out of Germany.

  Emperor. You would not have me sign?

  Culture. I warn you first to know yourself, you who have gloated in a lookingglass too long.

  Emperor. I sign, so that Germany may be greater still, to spread your banner farther; thus I make the whole world cultured.

  Culture. My banner needs no such spreading. It has ever been your weakness to think that I have no other home save here in Germany. I have many homes, and the fairest is in France.

  Emperor. If that were true, Germany would care less for you.

  Culture. If that is true, I have never had a home in Germany. I am no single nation’s servant, no single race’s Queen. I am not of German make. My banner is already in every land on which you would place your heel. Culture spreads not by way of maiming freedom. I’ll not have you say you fight for me. Find some other reason.

  Emperor. The jealousies of nations ——

  Culture. All are guilty there. Jealousy, not love of money, is the root of all evil; that was a misprint. Yet I know of nothing those others want that is yours to give, save peace. What do you want of them? Bites out of each, and when they refuse to be dismembered you cry: “The blood be on their heads; they force me into war.”

  Emperor. Germany must expand. That is her divine mission; I have it from on high.

  Culture. Your system of espionage is known to be tolerably complete.

  Emperor. All Germany is with me. I hold in leash the mightiest machine for war the world has forged.

  Culture. I have seen your legions, and all are with you. Never was a Lord more trusted. O Emperor, does that not make you pause?

  Emperor. France invades little Belgium.

  Culture. Chivalrous Franc
e! Never! Emperor, I leave one last word to you at the parting of the ways. France, Russia, Britain, these are great opponents, but it is not they will bring the pillars of Germany down. Beware of Belgium!