by C. S. Lewis
ACT IV
– – – – – – – – – –
The sitting room in Bar’s house, as in Act I. The table which was formerly at the back has been moved to its original position, after the fuss of the dance has subsided, and it now stands under the left hand window, serving as a general rubbish heap. The windows look out on a large square. The time is about ten o’clock in the morning. After a short pause the dining room door on the right opens and VANT, CHUTNEY, MISS CHUTNEY, VISCOUNT PUDDIPHAT and MISS PUDDIPHAT, enter. The gentlemen are in morning coats, the ladies in ‘glad rags’. They scatter about the room, Miss Chutney taking one of the easy chairs which still stand in front of the fire.
VANT: (sitting down with a sigh of relief) Ahh! We have breakfasted royally!
MISS PUDDIPHAT: Its really extraordinary, Mr Vant, the way your mind runs on things to eat.
PUDDIPHAT: (at the table) You know, this has been one of the great surprises of my life.
CHUTNEY: What?
PUDDIPHAT: This marriage.
MISS CHUTNEY: (laughing) That was funny enough after what we all know, but the part that baffles me is Lord Big being present and playing the kind old uncle.
CHUTNEY: (shortly) The poor old fellow’s gone at last. ’Knew he would.
PUDDIPHAT: But, Colonel, what do you think is the real explanation?
CHUTNEY: I’ve no idea.
VANT: (authoritatively) My own opinion is that Big is here under compulsion. Considering his age, his temper, and his views about Bar, I can’t believe he’s doing it for fun.
MISS PUDDIPHAT: but how could he possibly be interested in befriending Bar?
VANT: (comes forward, full of information) Well, look here. I happen to know – dash it all, here they come.
MISS CHUTNEY: (in a hurried aside as the dining-room door opens) Its all right. I don’t expect your story was worth much. (BAR, in morning-coat and GLADYS in bridal atire, enter, followed by BIG and QUICKSTEPPE in frock-coats. BIG looks cheerful and satisfied, while the other is jocular and laconic as ever. A general bustle in the room. The KINGS follow, presently.)
BAR: (who has got into the centre of the scene somehow) I say, you people, I’ve got an idea –
QUICKSTEPPE: (In a loud aside) Marriage has quite reformed him. Its the first idea he’s ever had.
BAR: (proceeding) Don’t take any notice of that rude old man! As I was saying, his Lordship made such an excellent speech at the table, that I vote we put him up again. The General was rude enough to go to sleep, and the speech stopped. But I am sure there was more to come.
BIG: (hastily) On the contrary, Mr Bar –
GLADYS: Oh yes, m’Lord, you must go on. You’re the success of the event.
PUDDIPHAT: Yes, let us hear the Little-Master.
QUICKSTEPPE: (goes towards the folding doors) There’s a sofa in here, Mrs Bar, isn’t there? I’m going to have another doze. (GLADYS smiles and intercepts him.)
GLADYS: (firmly) You’ll do nothing of the kind, General. If you aren’t very careful I shall make you speak yourself. (QUICKSTEPPE sits down. BIG has backed out, and puts HAWKI forward.)
BIG: Here’s your man, gentlemen! (The protesting RAJAH is bustled onto a chair between CHUTNEY and the VISCOUNT. He darts a vicious glance at BIG, who is explaining the joke to GLADYS. The others all sit down. A deathly silence.)
HAWKI: (aside to CHUTNEY, in a feverish whisper) Let go of me, you devil! What the hell do you mean by it? You wait –
BIG: Come on, your Majesty, we’re waiting.
HAWKI: (faces the company, grimly) Ladies and gentlemen, unaccustomed as I am to public speaking –
(He rolls this sentence out like a recitation, and then comes to a full stop. After a pause)
Er – I’m awfully glad – er – don’t you know – to be, – ah – present, at this function. (finding nothing to say he repeats several times ‘awfully glad’) I think – er – that it’ll be a – er – very good thing for the country, – no I don’t though. What I mean to say is that, ah, it – well I’m hanged if I know what it is I do want to say. (wrenches himself violently free, and sits down sulkily)
BIG: (in a dissapointed tone) H’m! I don’t think much of that.
THE OTHERS: (applauding vociferously) Here! Here! Very good! Quite so!
(The crowd rises and bears HAWKI off into the next room. Loud laughter and uncorking of bottles within. BIG and QUICKSTEPPE remain.)
QUICKSTEPPE: (sits by the fire) Well, old man? How do you like the new arrangement?
BIG: (comes back from the door, rubbing his hands and chuckling) I wonder what master Hawki will have to say to me when we get home? Ha! Ha!
QUICKSTEPPE: I’m glad to see that you’re more cheerful, this morning.
BIG: Yes, Quicksteppe, I think well of the arrangement.
QUICKSTEPPE: (with a sour smile) And you think you may possibly be able to stand out to the expense?
BIG: (as if he had never thought of it) Pooh: Sure, thats nothing! We’re not quite brought down to counting our pence like stockbrokers yet! (with breezy contempt)
QUICKSTEPPE: I quite agree. But the next time a bill comes in sixpence higher than last month, don’t come and make my evening miserable by grumbling about it.
BIG: (offended) Well now, isn’t it cruel, when I can’t even confide my little troubles to my friends and get some comfort –
QUICKSTEPPE: (rises and comes towards him) My dear Big! You’ve just hit upon the colossal mistake of your life, and of a good many other lives, too. You get NO comfort from coming and pouring out your grievances to some one else, and you make him uncomfortable.
BIG: Then must an old man suffer in silence without a word?
QUICKSTEPPE: (with conviction) If you don’t admit any trouble, you’ll find there aren’t many.
BIG: (after a pause, then smiling) I believe you are right, Frederic.
CURTAIN
CHAPTER I
* * * * * * *
A cutting wind was blowing up D. Street as an extremely brisk pedestrian turned the Inn Corner and set out towards Riverside Palace: he was a short man, neatly but not fashionably clad, and wearing a small brown moustache. His handsome and intelligent face was of the smooth, unwrinkled type that leads one to think it was originally modeled of prastic wax.
On arriving outside the stately pile which has for generations been the favourite residence of Boxonian kings, the pedestrian entered the wing devoted to the Little-Master, and asked to be shown to his private council chamber. A minute later the footman, who seemed to expect the visitor, ushered him into a small cabinet panelled in cedar, and in the centre of which stood a table littered with writing-materials and papers; at the far end of this sat a tall frog of about fifty seven years of age, whose height, although above the ordinary, was made to seem less by his stoutness. This person, (as my readers have doubtless guessed) was no less a dignitary than Lord Big, the Little-Master. No other country in the world has an office so complex and so powerful as that of Little-Master. That title includes the duties of speaker of the double House, guardian of the two kings, head of the Clique or cabinet and Prime-minister. Unkind people had been heard to say that Lord Big’s only claim to such an office was based upon cubic and not intellectual capacity, but there is no doubt that he was really an accomplished statesman.
Close to the powerful Piscian were seated a body of men whose power had before now swayed the destiny of the world – the Clique. There sat Lord Oliver Vant, First Lord of the Admiralty, a gaunt & inefficiant pig: there was Chutney, the officer of second importance in the war office: that well dressed owl was Viscount Puddiphat, Keeper of the Privy Seal, one who had led Boxonian society through five years: there was Mr Hedges the Beetle, an insect of good repute as a business man and Lord High Treasurer: there also sat Sir Henry Bradshaw, Attorney-General, whose eloquence and scathing speeches were a real power. Such was the company with whom the traveller thought himself fit to mix: for he himself was Major Lord Fortescue, Head of
the War Office.
‘Good morning, Fortescue,’ said Lord Big. ‘You have come at an important moment: sit down.’
‘Good day, gentlemen,’ returned the other. ‘Where have we got to?’
‘We have got to the question – Peace or War?’ said Chutney.
‘Peace,’ said Vant gravely. ‘There is no occasion for such violence.’
‘Is there not!’ said Chutney. ‘It is well known how all Tararo is boiling with sedition. The Prussians cross our territory and carry off our natives as slaves, and our troops fire a round of shot after them and think they’ve done enough. Then, what is the result? The natives have ceased to trust us and certainly to respect us. The Prussian troopers are brutal to them but they represent strength, and your native will always cringe to strength: at present we are weak. They see a handful of our colonists whose only protection is a wretchedly inadequate force of soldiers, planted in the midst of the foreigners! What –’
‘Ah it’s a scandal!’ broke in the worthy frog who for some time had been struggling to repress his emotion. ‘Why are there only a handful of troops?’
‘Neither army nor navy can afford a man more than they have at this minute,’ said Hedges.
‘If we intend to fight,’ put in Fortescue, ‘we must do so with a poor force: all the money we can raise must go to supplies & guns and the commissioning of vessels.’
‘An army,’ observed Vant sententiously, ‘marches on its stomach.’
‘Ah,’ said Bradshaw, ‘apparently we won’t be on the pig’s back.’ Vant spent the rest of his time in trying to think of a retort, and owing to his silence the business proceeded with greater speed: the Viscount pressed the barrister’s hand beneath the table in silent gratitude.
‘The question is,’ said Puddiphat, ‘do we mean to fight?’
‘Of course thats the question, Puddiphat,’ said the Little Master rather impatiently. ‘Let us take the votes.’
‘War!’ cried several voices. ‘War!’
The Little Master, although, true to his ancestors, he enjoyed a fight, observed rather gloomily: ‘Gentlemen, you have voted for war, and war it shall be. Of course we shall be soundly thrashed, but I daresay it will do us a lot of good and help some slackers to realize the condition of their country’s army and navy. No amount of talking will ever wake Boxen from her present lethargy, but they will get a rude awakening. I will take your proposal to their Majesties for their consent, and to morrow it will be publicly announced. Good-day!’
In the interests of justice, I must observe that the good frog would have assumed just as pessimistic an air had his ministers decided on peace: for, like a great number of persons, he invariably found that thing which he could not get to be his dearest wish.
CHAPTER II
* * * * * * *
A hurrying special train was speeding along the track of the Great Northern Railway between Figurdied & Fych, and if the reader has ever been on this piece of line he will realize what an unpleasant journey the train was having: he will recall a vision of a single, badly laid line, shooting straight as if ruled by a gigantic draughtsman along Animalland’s North Coast, with its jet black rocks thrown into relief against the curling white foam of the breaker: on the left there is a barren heath, extending as far as the eye can reach and broken up by a few stunted pines.
In a certain first class compartment in this train, sat two friends opposite one another, the one a big, lazy man with chestnut hair and moustaches and a handsome countenance: his companion was a very small but neatly built bear whose fur was of a rich hock-brown color, and who was well, although rather loudly dressed. The most profound depression reigned over the two travellers, as well it might, for had they not just been summoned from Constantinople to join their ship, the GREYHOUND, at some unknown spot between Fych and Figurdied? They were, in point of fact, officers on board this vessel, who, although by no means cowards nor shirkers of hard fighting, looked askance at a war which cut short a hard earned holyday: it annoyed them also to be made to start from such an out of the way place as the little mining settlement between Fych and Figurdied which had not even a station, although they could not deny the wisdom of making the expedition as secret as possible.
But logic is often the most unconvincing when it is the most unanswerable, and so James Bar R.N., paymaster & head of the Victualling Department and his chestnut-haired companion Percy Wilkins, R.N., Lieutenant of Marines were still angry and depressed when the brakes squeaked and the special stood still. Gazing out of the window, the little bear recieved a still greater shock: they had stopped just dead on the metals at a spot where there was neither platform or junction. The place where they were standing had no feature to distinguish it from the stretch of rails in front and behind! There was a cove in the coast surrounded by a few wooden huts, and out to sea lay the GREYHOUND, tossing in the swell & obscured by the thin rain that was falling: and that was all!
‘Come on,’ said Wilkins from behind. ‘Get out. There’s nothing to be gained by looking at it.’
‘But – but,’ stammered the astonished paymaster, ‘we haven’t come to anywhere.’
‘Well, at any rate, here’s something coming to us.’
Bar followed his friend’s glance and saw a figure approaching through the rain: it was that of a tall man with a caustic, clean-shaven face, and clad in a makintosh. This was Commodore Murray, the strict but popular master of the GREYHOUND.
‘Come along, tumble out, men,’ he cried, glancing up and down the train.
In a few moments a responce was made in the shape of an opening of doors, and Bar, collecting his belongings, clambered down onto the coarse, sandy grass, followed by Wilkins.
‘Hullo, Mr Bar,’ said the Commodore approaching with outstretched hand. ‘I shan’t hope you’ve had a pleasant journey, because I know you have not. How are you?’
‘Pretty well,’ said Bar. ‘How long have you been in this hole of a place?’
‘Two days: and it’s rained all the time! Hullo Wilkins!’
‘Good day, Commodore,’ said the marine officer, shaking his commander by the hand. ‘What do you think of this expedition?’
‘As an amusement its very poor,’ laughed Murray. ‘But war had to come. And’ – he added in a more serious tone – ‘the Prussians need a lesson!’
‘Yes,’ agreed Wilkins and added suddenly, ‘Here come Macphail and Cottle,’ as a small cat approached from another compartment accompanied by a rather sour man of fifty. These two were respectively the chief engineer and the second officer of marines.
After exchanging the usual greetings with the two newcomers and afterwards with a handsome pig – Mr Hogge – his first lieutenant, Commodore Murray drew up his men in marching order, and filed them into the huts set apart for their use until they should get on board their vessel on the following day. Bar’s spirits sank to zero as he viewed the hovel in which he and his fellow-officers were to spend the night. The only furniture was a clamped table with benches and a few rude bunks: as the copper mine for whose service these huts had been erected had not been worked for several years, the place was in ill repair and the wind whistled through every joint and seam. When, however, a brazier filled with glowing coals had been set up, and a plentiful but homely meal had been eaten he became more reconciled to his lot, and fell asleep remembering that the Little-Master of Boxen and other nobles & two regiments had lived there for two days in the same discomfort which he was enduring.
CHAPTER III
* * * * * * *
At about ten oclock next morning Lord John Big was seated in a hut, somewhat larger and more portentious than the others, but not a whit more comfortable; for its only appliances were a deal table, two benches and a windsor chair. By his side sat a tall, young man of some twenty five summers whose swarthy skin proclaimed him an Indian, and whose regular features were what are conventionally known as ‘noble’: it was Rajah Hawki of India. Opposite to him sat a stout rabit of about the same age, genial of e
xpression and careless of appearance, which individual was King Benjamin of Animalland. Thus seated between the joint sovereigns of the realm he almost ruled, the worthy frog seemed to be propounding some scheme to the kings whom he adressed in a most familiar manner, since, having been formerly their tutor, they had come to regard him almost as a parent.
‘Boys,’ said Lord Big, ‘the expedition is ready: the transport ship which we have commissioned is expected any moment. What part do you intend to take? I do not purpose that you travel out on the transport with me, in idleness. You are out of condition, and some really hard work is the best preparation you can have for the war that is to come. What I sugest is that you take up a position of second lieutenants on board the GREYHOUND, and, during the voyague, fall into the ordinary work and discipline of the ship.’
There was silence in the hut for a few moments: for neither monarch liked the idea, but neither could think of any objection. At length Benjamin spoke.
‘Only, Big, what will Murray say?’
It was a weak card and he knew it as soon as he played it.
‘Oh! That’ll be all right,’ returned the frog cheerfully. ‘I’ve asked him about it.’
‘Oh.’ Hawki pronounced the monosyllable dryly, and lit a cigarette. Big frowned.
‘Are you going to do it?’ he asked.
With a reluctant consent the two kings left the hut and went out for a brief walk upon the shore. Here they met Viscount Puddiphat, who, having come to the settlement in command of a body of volunteers, was hurrying along the heath in his uniform. It surprised the two kings to see how he made them the slightest salutation which ettiquette demanded, for he was on good terms with them and rarely passed them without a few words of conversation. Thus they glanced with interest on the retreating figure which hurried on towards Fych.
His sharp tread quickly carried him out of their sight & he continued to walk briskly until he reached a very small cottage: it was too far away from the group of huts which he had left to be mistaken for an outlying member of that hamlet, and indeed it differed from them in construction, for it was well built of stone and soundly thatched. The good bird knocked upon the door, and a man’s voice from within bade him enter.