Complete works of hall c.., p.644
Complete Works of Hall Caine, page 644
Secretary. I’m ready, sir.
Governor (dictating). “Dear friend and respected colleague—”
Secretary (writing). “ — respected colleague.”
Governor (dictating). “I have just received from secret sources a very important piece of news! A royal Prince, cruising on his yacht, is likely to put it at the Isle of Boy. He will pretend to be a private person and may come at any time, if he has not already arrived — and is at this moment staying somewhere incognito—”
Secretary’. “ — incognito.”
Governor. Wonder if the ignorant ass will know what incognito means! No matter! (Dictating.) “Therefore I beg of you to exercise your usual wisdom and discretion in this delicate and difficult matter. Let a sharp look-out be kept on all yachts entering and leaving the bay, and lest our royal guest should be already ashore in the disguise which it has pleased him to adopt, let every hotel be visited and every exceptional-looking visitor sagaciously interviewed—”
Secretary. “ — interviewed.”
Governor. Hope the green goose won’t imagine that means the newspapers. Go on, (dictating) “I need not tell a pubic servant of your great intelligence and experience to regard these instructions as strictly confidential, but you will oblige me by communicating immediately with the Judge, the Bishop, the Mayor, and the Seneschal, and request them to step up to me without a moment’s delay.”
Secretary. “ — a moment’s delay!”
Governor (dictating). “Yours in frantic haste — Lieutenant-Governor.” (Ringing bell.)
Secretary. “ — Lieutenant-Governor.”
(Governor signs letter, puts it in envelope and gives it back to Secretary.)
Governor. By messenger — at once.
Secretary. At once. (Secretary goes out.)
Footman enters.
Governor. Tell your mistress and my daughter that I wish to see them instantly.
Footman. Instantly, Excellency.
(Footman goes out.)
Governor. Here’s a pretty business! Incognito! Why incognito? Why in the devil’s name, incognito? (Walks to and fro, slapping his forehead:) I have it! I have it!
Enter Wife and Daughter of Governor.
Ah, Rubina! And Agatha, my child, come here — I have something to tell you: a Prince is coming to visit the Isle of Boy.
Wife (joyfully). A Prince?
Governor. Yes, a Prince! Of the royal blood too.
Wife. Well, I declare!
Governor. Here is a letter from that clerk in the Treasury — You know him, Rubina — the one I sent the little present to at Christmas. He tells me Prince Henry —
Wife. The young Prince! Shall we have him here?
Governor. He will pretend to be a private person and come in disguise.
Daughter. How extraordinary!
Wife. How jolly! But there’ll be receptions and processions and dances — will there not?
Governor. Rubina, my darling, you are a dunce. Why do people travel incognito?
Wife. I don’t know, unless they are trying to prevent anybody from knowing them.
Governor. Precisely! And why do people try to prevent anybody from knowing them?
Wife. I don’t know, unless they’ve been doing something.
Governor. Or are going to do something. Great celebrities and great criminals always travel incognito when they are going to do something — something serious, something disturbing.
Wife. Goodness me, you don’t mean that! And yet I might have known. I had a sort of presentiment of it. All last night I dreamt of spiders. There were four of them — so black and enormous. I thought I was a fly and when they seized hold of me in bed —
Governor. My dear, you must get the spare room ready.
Wife. The spare room?
Governor. He may arrive at any hour, if he has not already done so.
Daughter. But if he is to come in disguise
Governor. Leave it to me, my child. Meantime have the spare room ready.
Wife. But there’s Bill.
Governor. Which Bill?
Wife. Why, our Bill, my dear. The poor boy is coming home from Cambridge.
Governor. Send him back. Tell him not to come.
Daughter. But he is coming on such a particular end: he has fallen in love, papa.
Governor. The booby!
Wife. He wants to tell us all about the lady, and to ask your permission to marry her.
Governor. Bah!
Daughter. She’s so bright, he says, so clever — and if she’s poor she’s so pretty and if she’s little, she’s so sweet.
Governor. Pickles! Send Master Bill a telegram to say his room will probably be wanted for more important company.
Wife. But he has telegraphed that he is to arrive this afternoon.
Governor. Then put him in the loft, the stable, the hen-coop — anywhere. I’ve something better to think of to-day than a boy with a head full of love and flim-flam.
Enter Footman.
Footman. His Honour the Judge, the Bishop, the Mayor, and the Seneschal!
(The Ladies go out.)
Four Elderly Men come in — grotesque figures in black, long, old-fashioned coats, silk hats — All very solemn and severe.
Governor. Sit down, gentlemen, sit down.
(They sit in a half-circle — the Governor in the middle.)
I have called you together, my dear and esteemed colleagues, to hear an alarming piece of news.
Judge (a red-nosed person). Yes, we know. We heard something from the Head Constable.
Govenor. Where is the Head Constable?
Bishop. Gone to the post-office to consult the postmaster.
Governor. Good!
Seneschal. But who is the Prince that is coming, your Excellency?
Governor. What — didn’t I mention the name — Prince Henry!
Judge. The young Prince Henry?
Governor. He is coming incognito!
Bishop. Extraordinary!
Mayor. Simply extraordinary!
Governor. Incognito, you understand. There must be some meaning in that! What do you think about it, Bishop?
Bishop (with the manner of the pulpit). What do I think about it, your Excellency? I think it is a deep political move of some sort. Probably England intends to make war on some foreign nation and is sending the young Prince to see if she can rely on the support of the Isle of Boy.
Governor (derisively). Ah, you’ve got it! You know a thing or two. The idea of England relying on the Isle of Boy! Why, we’ve only two soldiers in the place, and one of them is the old pensioner who keeps the Castle — and the other goes hopping about on a wooden leg. What do you say, Seneschal?
Senescal. I say it looks serious — undoubtedly serious. But why should we think the young Prince is coming to do us harm? Why not to do us good? Isn’t he to come of age shortly? — and at royal festivals of that sort isn’t it usual to give away titles and decorations and orders and so forth? Now, who knows but the King has sent the Prince to see for himself which of us is worthy –
Governor. Pooh! As if titles were in the habit of chasing people around like that! It’s the other way about, my friend! Titles are like women: you follow them about until you get them, and then you tell everybody they followed you. But what do you say, Judge?
Judge (taking a nip of spirits out of a flask, then clearing his throat and speaking with a judicial air). I say, your Excellency, there’s no reason to suppose the young Prince is coming on public business at all. Why not private business? The Prince is young and merry and fond of pleasure, isn’t he? Even if he is a Prince, he is of the same flesh and blood as ourselves — you’ll not deny that, gentlemen. And then the Isle of Boy is a little Elysium in the holiday season — and isn’t this the holiday season, gentlemen? Heaps of girls, music playing, flags flying, dances, drinks –
Governor. Bosh! Girls indeed! What an idea! Do you think that with London and Paris and all the world to choose from, I, even I, when I want girls — h’m — that is to say, in a manner of speaking, if I wanted them — But how do you feel about it, Mr. Mayor?
Mayor, How do I feel? I feel — I feel — How do you feel, your Excellency?
Governor. I? Well, I’m no coward, but I confess I feel a little — just a little uncomfortable. It’s this cursed incognito that’s on my brain. Why incognito? Why the deuce should a Prince of the royal blood come incognito to the Isle of Boy? Shall I tell you why?
All. Tell us, your Excellency,
Governor (in bated breathy drawing their heads together). Annexation!
All. Never!
Governor. Yes, one after another the islands have been annexed, and we have escaped hitherto, but it’s to be our turn next!
Bishop. You don’t say so!
Governor (opening letter). I have an influential friend in the Treasury. Listen. (Reads.) “Dear friend and benefactor — Having received so many and such particular proofs of your friendship—” H’m, family matters, you know. (Mutters over sentences.) Ah, here it is— “what the object of the visit is I do not know, but as it is a surprise visit it is probably intended to take you unawares, so (lifting his finger and raising his voice) I advise you to use precautions, and if there is anything in the administration of the Isle of Boy which you do not wish the King and the Government to
hear about -”
Mayor. Good Lord, our time has come at last!
Seneschal. Yes, the Government may be far away, but it sees everything –
Governor. It may or it may not — Anyhow, gentlemen, I have warned you. You especially, Judge. Without doubt, when the Prince comes the first thing he will want to look into is the administration of the law, and when he finds that the Judge of the Isle of Boy is a drunkard –
Judge (rising indignantly). A drunkard! What do you mean by a drunkard, your Excellency? There are drunkards and drunkards. You wouldn’t call a man a drunkard because he has the misfortune to get drunk — My doctor orders me to take a little whiskey at the end of a meal, and so I merely –
Governor. You merely go on taking it until the beginning of the next — precisely! (Judge sits.) And then you, Bishop. (Bishop moves uneasily.) I intended to mention it to you before, but somehow it escaped my memory. You represent the Church — yet everybody knows you are a rank Atheist, and to hear you talk after dinner on the subject of the Creation is simply enough to make one’s
hair stand on end.
Bishop (rising). What has that got to do with the Prince? I’ve reasoned it out with my own un-aided intellect.
Governor. Perhaps so, but too much intellect in a Bishop isn’t good for religion, and I wouldn’t do it if I were you. (Bishop sits.) And then you, too, Mr. Mayor. (The Mayor moves uneasily.) You are the magistrate who grants the licenses, but when the Prince finds out that you are a publican yourself, in secret –
Mayor (rising). A publican?
Governor. In secret, I say –
Mayor (sitting). Lord save us!
Governor. And hold half the public houses in the name of your mother-in-law
Mayor. I’ll sell them all off to-morrow.
Governor. I would recommend you to do so. And you also, Seneschal.
(Seneschal moves uneasily.)
Seneschal (rising). A grocer!
Governor. Well, a wholesale Chandler or Provision Merchant — (Seneschal sits.) And you supply the prisons, and I advise you to see that the women have enough soap to wash their linen occasionally — and that the men sometimes have clean faces. Prisoners are not persons to be pampered with luxuries, I admit, but that’s no reason why they should always go about looking like chimney-sweeps.
Seneschal (trembling). They shall have soap to-day, your Excellency, soft soap — oceans of it.
Governor. As regards myself, of course –
All (groaning). Yes, of course!
Governor (emphatically). Of course there isn’t a man living who hasn’t some little peccadilloes to account for, and I’m sure to hear of mine now the Prince is coming.
All. Sure to — sure to!
Governor. It seems that I’m unpopular with the Banks, merely because I hold a few overdrafts — and with the shopkeepers simply because I don’t pay my bills. I always give them my I. O. U. and what more do they want? (Seneschal and Mayor groan audibly and Governor looks severely at them.) But I believe there’ll be some sort of complaint drawn up against me when the Prince comes.
All. Certain to be! Certain to be!
Governor (significantly). Not that I care a snap about that, and if you hear of anybody who wants to complain, just tell him to wait until the Prince has gone and I’ll give him something to complain about. (Mayor and Seneschal groan again.) But it’s this cursed incognito that bothers me. I fully expect the door to open, and all of a sudden. (The door opens with a bang and Governor rises with a gasp.) I knew it!
The Head Constable and the Postmaster enter breathless.
Head Constable (who speaks with a lisp). Such a piece of news.
Postmaster (who stutters). Su-such a fi-find!
All. What is it — what is it?
Postmaster. The Con-con-constable and I –
Head Constable. All right, Postmaster, let me tell it!
Postmaster. Al-allow me.
Head Constable. No, no — you can’t tell the story — you stutter.
Postmaster. And you lis-lis-lisp!
Governor. Go on, for the Lord’s sake, somebody. My heart’s in my mouth! Sit down, gentlemen, take seats! Postmaster, here’s a chair for you. (They sit in a circle with the Postmaster and Head Constable in the middle and Judge and Bishop with their backs to the audience.) Well now, what is it? What is it?
Head Constable. Permit me — permit me. Do let me tell the news. As soon as I received the message from your Excellency I rang up the Judge, the Bishop, the Mayor, and the Seneschal, and then went over to the Postmaster.
Postmaster. Y-y-yes, he ca-came over to m-me-
Head Constable. To see if any remarkable kind of letter had passed through his hands — anything with a royal coat-of-arms on it — that would help us to trace the personage we want if he had already arrived on the island.
Postmaster. Noth-noth-nothing, gentlemen, nothing!
Head Constable. But as luck would have it, the Postmaster — now, don’t interrupt me — please, gentlemen, oblige me –
Governor. Go on, for Heaven’s sake.
Head Constable. The Postmaster was at that moment talking to one of his postmen who was reporting a peculiar circumstance
Postmaster. Mo-mo-most peculiar!
Head Constable. He had delivered a letter every day for a week — with the Cambridge postmark — always the Cambridge postmark — to a young lady staying at an inn on the –
Postmaster. Cl-close to the fish-fish-market.
Head Constable (nodding). Close to the fish-market.
Postmaster. Kept by Peter Quiggan.
Head Constable. Yes, kept by Peter Quiggan.
Postmaster. His wi-wi-wife presented him wi-wi-with a baby last week, a boy.
Head Constable. Good Lord! Will nobody –
Postmaster. Ju-ju-just like his father.
Governor (rising in anger). Will you stop, Postmaster? (Sitting.) Go on, Mr. Constable.
Head Constable. Well, the young lady had turned out to be a young man.
Governor. A what?
Head Constable. Yes, your Excellency — when the postman took the letter this morning.
Postmaster. Wi-wi-with the Cam-Cambridge postmark –
Governor. Confound the Cambridge postmark!
Head Constable. He opened the door of the sitting-room suddenly and beheld the young woman was a young man! (All lean back and whistle.)
Head Constable. When I heard that I said “Hello!”
Postmaster. No, I sa-said— “Hel-hell-hello!”
Head Constable. Well, first you said it, and then I did. “Hello,” we said. “There’s something up here.” So off we go to the inn.
Postmaster. On the qu-quay?
Head Constable. On the quay
Postmaster. Where the cir-circus pe-people stay.
Head Constable. And when we get there we peep into the room through the round glass panels over the door.
Postmaster. Li-like this — (Lifts the arm of the Bishop to his head to make a loop).
Head Constable. Yes, both of us, like this. (Lifts the arm of the Judge in the same tcay — they both look through with faces to the audience.)
Governor. Well, well, what do you see?
Head Constable. We haven’t been peeping a moment when in comes a young woman from the street –
Postmaster. Ra-rather goo-good-looking.
Head Constable. Very good-looking.
Governor. What is she doing?
Head Constable. She is beginning to undress!
All. Oh! Oh! (They look at each other.)
Head Constable. That is to say, a little at a time, you know — first she takes off her bodice — then she slips off her — (Indicates skirt).
Judge. Order!
Bishop. Really, gentlemen! (They break up. Business.)
Head Constable. We couldn’t help it — we really couldn’t — and before we knew where we were — it was a young man –
Postmaster. R-rather handsome and well — well-dressed.
Head Constable. Very well-dressed — frock-coat, white waistcoat, patent leather boots — that was walking about the room. “Hello,” says I —
Postmaster. No, — no, I said Hell –
Governor (rising again). Postmaster, you are a fool.
Postmaster. Ye-yes, yes, sir!
Head Constable. “Hello,” says I. “Here’s a lucky find!” Such a noble physiognomy, such a regal style, so haughty and distinguished! And when he caught sight of the Postmaster peeping behind the door =
Postmaster. No, no, — the Con-constable!
Head Constable (brushing him aside). And looked like this — (imitating a majestic look), I had a sudden presentiment, and I said, “It’s He!”
Governor. He? Who — what?
Head Constable. Why the Prince who was to come incognito.
Governor. You don’t say so! It can’t be!
Head Constable. It is though! Why, I called up Peter, and asked him privately: “Who is that young man?” I said, and Peter answered: “I don’t know who he is, but his goings-on are peculiar. When he goes out he’s a woman, and when he comes in he’s a man.” Yes, sir, and Peter said: “He’s been here a week and he takes everything on trust, and doesn’t pay a penny — and yet he sings all day long.”
