Part 7
[_Brandishing whatever comes to hand as weapon ALL rush out in different directions, seeking the enemy. Meanwhile the buzzing sound seems to pervade the place, as if myriad spinning-wheels were at work. MOSS-ROSE, who alone remains, dances in ecstasy. Rising from her christening mug appear the THREE FATES, known to the ancients as ATROPOS, CLOTHO and LACHESIS in their traditional attitudes. They are singing as they work._]
THE SPIN-WHEEL SONG
Hear the merry spin-wheel’s song: Wake! Day’s begun! Thread comes short and thread comes long, Spin, spinning, spun! Baby wakes and crows with glee. Spin-wheel sings and so sings she: Mm-m-m! Spin-wheel sings M-m!
See the King ride forth at noon, Heralds before. Life and death are in his boon, Sweet peace and war. Baby laughs and claps her hands; She knows what the King commands. Br-r-r! King commands Br!
God’s own angels from aloft Down white moon’s beam Gently slide and whisper soft In baby’s dream. Baby smiles, as well she may, For she hears the angels say, Hush! Angels say Hush-sh!
[_During this MOSS-ROSE looks up and seeing the THREE WEIRD SISTERS dances and claps her hands in an ecstasy of glee, joining in the chorus of the song. At one point, noticing the spindle, she holds up her hands for this entreatingly, on which the FATE holding it, lowers it to her by its thread. MOSS-ROSE delightedly dances about, playing with it, its thread still retained by the FATE. Suddenly the maiden pricks her finger, and stops in her dance. She staggers slightly, as if dizzy, looks at her finger, sucks this, and laughs, as if it were but a trifling matter. Then she passes her hand over her brow, as if dazed, becomes more and more sleepy, and finally falls on a couch at the foot of the mug in enchanted slumber. THE KING, QUEEN and all the COURT return, breathless with their quest. THE FATES disappear as they came, but the spindle with its attaching thread remains in the young girl’s hand._]
THE KING.
Strange, it’s nowhere to be found!
THE QUEEN.
Nowhere! We must just have thought there was one!
THE CHANCELLOR.
High and low—nowhere!
THE FROG.
By land or water—nowhere!
ALL.
Nowhere!
THE KING.
It is all right, Moss-Rose! Where are you, child?
THE QUEEN.
She’s hiding, frightened! Moss-Rose! There’s nothing to be afraid of, darling! Where can the child be?
ALL.
[_Searching._] Moss-Rose! Princess Moss-Rose!
THE KING.
Search the forest! Drag the pond!
THE COURT.
Aye, search the forest, drag the pond!
THE FROG.
You look to the forest; leave the pond to me! [_While about to run out he sees MOSS-ROSE and utters a wild cry._] Ah-h!
ALL.
What is it? [_They run to the spot, and seeing her, also cry out._]
THE KING.
My child, my little daughter, my Moss-Rose!
THE QUEEN.
Moss-Rose! Oh, my baby!
THE KING.
But however did it happen?
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Lifting the spindle._] See! See! A spindle! [_ALL exclaim._]
THE KING.
But how, where, why.... Where did it come from?
THE CHANCELLOR.
Attached to a thread that reaches ... reaches.... [_Growing sleepy._]
THE FROG.
Clear to the centre of the earth ... and the waters under the earth! [_Yawning._]
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Dropping the spindle._] No precedent.... I don’t recall any precedent! [_Yawning, he staggers over to the statute books and tries to turn over the leaves of these._]
THE KING.
[_Chafing a hand of the sleeping girl._] But, my child—surely she is not dead? [_ALL echo, “Not dead?”_]
THE QUEEN.
[_Kissing MOSS-ROSE._] No, no! Only sleeping!
ALL.
Ah, only sleeping!
THE CHANCELLOR.
Term not exceeding one hundred years—[_Sleepily._] Kind courtesy of Sir Amphid—Amphid—phib—phib—phib—ib—ib—
THE FROG.
Just a trifling matter of a century!
THE QUEEN.
So kind of him when already—given—mug! [_Sleepily._] Good-night, my darling, for one hundred years! [_Again kisses MOSS-ROSE and staggers to throne, falls on this, in sound slumber._]
THE KING.
[_Following the QUEEN’S example._] Good-night, daughter—good-night, everybody—one hundred—
ALL.
Good-night—everybody—one hundred—[_Falling asleep._]
THE FROG.
You see, moral is, no escaping Fate! Fate! [_Yawns._] Oh, I am so dry! Can’t you spray me? [_To the GARDENER._]
THE GARDENER.
[_To his assistants who hold garden hose and watering-pot._] Don’t you hear? Let spray!
THE FROG.
Aye, let spray! Always spray before going to bed! ’specially one hundred years!
[_Drops off to sleep._]
THE GARDENER.
[_Catching hold of a branch of the wonderful moss-rose bush._] It’s the finest moss-rose bush in all the world!—Little slip—this size—sixteen years—Just think!—One hundred years—whole forest—moss roses!
[_Drops off to sleep._]
THE COOK.
[_Waking slightly._] Left roast on spit—bread in oven—Slightly overdone—one hundred years!
THE BUTLER.
[_Very drowsy, taking an alarm clock from his pocket, and trying to set it._] Those lazy footmen—Set alarm—wake promptly—one hundred years!
THE GOVERNESS.
[_Almost asleep._] Have to go to work—learn new set of dates—important events—one hundred years!
THE QUEEN.
[_Waking slightly._] How the fashions will have changed—one hundred years!—New clothes—Shall have to order—entire new wardrobe! From Paris—one hundred—new hats!
THE KING.
[_Slightly waking._] No, no! Same old styles—come back—into fashion again—every hundred years! [_He settles himself comfortably, and is about to doze again when some sound without arrests his attention._] Hark! Hark!
ALL.
[_Slightly roused._] Hark, hark, the lark!
THE KING.
Aye, the lark, and the hawk; bird of song and bird of prey alike; the lion and the lamb—all, all falling fast asleep! Hear old lion snore! Sleep one hundred years! [_He drops into slumber again._]
THE FROG.
Oh, I am so dry! I am so dry!
ALL.
Do keep still—not wake—everybody—one hundred—
THE FROG.
But I am so dry! [_A GARDENER’S BOY sprays him._] That’s better! Oh, I was so dry! I was so dry! [_Again ALL murmur._] All very well for landlubbers, but first time—I ever went without bath—one hundred years!
[_There is a slight somnolent pause, then softly, faintly the whir of the wheels of FATE and the SPIN-WHEEL SONG rise from the enchanted mug; meanwhile roses bubble over its sides, their long trailing sprays falling like a veil over the sleeping PRINCESS._]
THE GARDENER.
[_Catching a handful of sprays, crosses the hall, these lengthening in his progress, as if by miraculous growth from their root in the enchanted mug._] Little slip—whole forest—one hundred years! [_Still holding the ends of the trailing sprays he falls down, asleep._]
THE KING AND QUEEN.
[_In their sleep._] Good-night, Moss-Rose! Good-night, everybody, one hundred years!
ALL.
[_In their sleep._] Good-night—everybody—one hundred years!
[_The CURTAINS now shut out the scene from our view, but if by any chance these are lifted again we see roses, always moss-roses, fountaining from the mug over the assemblage in their enchanted sleep._]
THE THIRD EVENT
[_The CURTAINS lifted, now disclose the same scene, but with the GARDENER’S prophecy evidently fulfilled, for we seem to be on the outskirts of a dense forest of moss-roses. As we gaze on this, wondering what ever will come of it, we hear two voices, one which might properly belong, and proves so to do, to a charming YOUNG PRINCE, while the other is that of his TUTOR._]
THE PRINCE.
This way! What ho, Mentor! This way! [_He blows a blast on his horn._]
MENTOR.
What ho! Oh, I’m nearly smothered! And I’m almost pricked to death! Where, in the name of forestry, are you?
THE PRINCE.
Here! This way!... To the right! So! Here we are!
[_They come from opposite directions, and meet on the outskirts of the thicket confronting us, and we now see that PRINCE CHARMING fully justifies his name, while MENTOR is no doubt a tutor with excellent references. Each carries or drags a number of trophies in the way of arms and legs and other portions of the anatomy, or some piece of the outfit, of other PRINCES. They pause to rest._]
MENTOR.
What a wild-goose chase! And so far, not even the ghost of a wild-goose! Only this human bric-a-brac! [_Throws down his burden._]
THE PRINCE.
Still, as an antiquarian, you ought not to grumble! [_Throwing down his burden, also. Both sit._] Did you ever see such a collection?
MENTOR.
[_Picking up specimens._] Leg of the time of your great grandfather! Right arm dating, let me see, fifty years back! Torso ninety-nine years old!
THE PRINCE.
And we can’t construct one symmetrical skeleton out of them! None of the rights match the lefts! Whatever shall we do with them? As trophies they are interesting, yet one wouldn’t want them on the walls of the dining-room!
MENTOR.
As soon as you ascend the throne you must build a new wing to the Royal Museum for them. Ouch! Another thorn in my foot!
THE PRINCE.
Oh, I’m getting used to thorns! As for these fellows, look at them! Everyone of them a human pin-cushion! Well, they certainly made a valiant battle for the rose!
MENTOR.
The rose, the rose, always the rose! Haven’t you got that old tale out of your mind yet?
THE PRINCE.
How can I, when I was brought up on it? It is true, nurses in long succession were dismissed for attempting to tell me fairy-tales, but these things will out! There was a jackdaw who used to sit on the barn door and talk to himself about it, hour after hour. Then in the pond were two venerable frogs who told me that in their tadpole youth they had been to the palace itself to carry a mug as christening present for the Rose!
MENTOR.
Fudge! Have you any sandwiches left?
[_The PRINCE offers him the lunch-box that he carries, also a flask, then proceeds with his discourse._]
THE PRINCE.
Also there was a robin whose grandmother had escaped from the forest just before the slumber-spell fell on it!
MENTOR.
[_With his mouth full._] Fudge! Stuff and nonsense!
THE PRINCE.
And in my nursery there is a tiger-skin rug, you remember! Well, one day it whispered to me—
MENTOR.
Gammon and spinach! I beg your pardon, my dear Prince, but really, when you talk this way—Why, the thesis on which I took my doctor’s degree is a refutation of the tissue of lies—very poetic ones, I grant you—which form the myth of the Sleeping Beauty! [_He takes a drink._] There’s a presentation copy in the Royal library! The trouble is that the poetic myth is a best seller, while the leaves of the presentation-copy-refutation remain uncut!
THE PRINCE.
But, my dear Mentor, how do you account for the disappearance of King Johannes Johann Ivor Ivan Ian Giovanni Juan Jean John? The sudden mysterious disappearance with all his court that caused my royal ancestors to annex the kingdom to their own! It’s an historical fact, you know!
MENTOR.
Oh, probably good King Jack got into some slight trouble—violated the game laws, or something, so abdicated and went quietly abroad, leaving the Court Chronicler to invent some pretty tale to hush up the scandal!
THE PRINCE.
But this forest that we have hewed and hacked our way through—How do you account for it that every living thing in it, bird and beast, is fast, fast asleep?
MENTOR.
The sleeping sickness is nothing new! Everyone, from Adam down, who has had to sit through after-dinner oratory has felt a touch of it! It is only the orators who are immune!
THE PRINCE.
And this forest—this marvellous forest of moss-roses?
MENTOR.
Just moss-roses! The soil in this region happens to be peculiarly favourable to their growth!
THE PRINCE.
And the Princess herself, the heart and soul and living embodiment of a moss-rose?
MENTOR.
My dear lad, all youths of the princely temperament are like you! All want to turn the cold hard facts of science into romance, with a beautiful maid at the root of a beautiful mystery! To let you into a family confidence, it originated with my great-aunt! Oh, she was not beautiful; she was practical and punctual, like me! In order to be always in the right and put her husband always in the wrong she used to turn the hands of the clock to whatever hour she thought would be for his best good! It was one of those large, old-fashioned clocks, you know! And one night, while inside the case, she got caught in the works, and for eight days went up and down, clinging to the weights, ticking off the seconds, striking the hours, before she was rescued by the little Swiss man who came periodically to wind and regulate the household time-pieces! My great-uncle-by-marriage, though at the time distracted with anxiety, has since been heard to say that those were the happiest because the most unpunctual hours of his life! Since which time it has passed into a proverb when anything is wrong with the works of anything to look for a woman in the case!
THE PRINCE.
What you say no doubt is true, and yet—
MENTOR.
And yet, like all young fools you won’t believe me till you yourself have proved it! In spite of all these warnings, in the shape of fragments of Kings’ Sons who have lost their lives in the attempt! If these poor witnesses could speak, which, think you, would say, go forward, Prince Charming? Persevere unto the end!
THE PRINCE.
Which, think, you, would say, Turn back, Prince Charming! Give it up!
MENTOR.
All! Every mother’s son of them!
THE PRINCE.
Not one! Not one protoplasmic atomy of one!
[_At this challenge the FRAGMENTS OF KINGS’ SONS become endowed with the powers of life. The HANDS applaud, clap the PRINCE on the back, or shake hands with him, the LEGS dance, and indeed the ruder of these buffet MENTOR, one going so far as to kick his hat off. The TORSO inclines itself approvingly, the HEADS bow, and many VOICES cry “Go forward, Prince Charming! Persevere to the end!”_]
THE PRINCE.
You hear? [_To MENTOR._] I thank you, comrades, or fragments of comrades; I thank you with all my heart!
MENTOR.
More fools they!... You see that while we have found countless hearts we have not come upon one single set of brains! Now, now! [_Evading some of the FRAGMENTS who seem disposed to resent this._] Since you are in pieces can’t you rest in peace?
THE PRINCE.
Forward, that’s the word! With the Heart for my device, let my motto be: Forward, to success, or death in the attempt!
[_He hacks away at the hedge, on which all the FRAGMENTS aid him._]
MENTOR.
Since you are determined to go on, why not try skill instead of strength! See how all these branches seem to radiate from a common centre, somewhere not far away, as if they had fountained, tent-wise, over a clear space!... What’s that noise?
THE PRINCE.
People approaching! Who can it be?
[_We now hear a swish-swash approaching from the outer forest, also the sound of an old man’s stick. Pausing, the PRINCE and MENTOR turn, and see two elderly FROGS. These halt, and salute._]
FIRST FROG.
Pardon. Prince Charming, I believe!
SECOND FROG.
We believe!
THE PRINCE.
[_Salutes._] At your service, gentlemen!—Why, you are my two old friends from the Frog-pond!
THE FROGS.
[_Gratified._] The same. The same!
FIRST FROG.
It’s a long time since Your Highness has made mud pies and listened to our tales!
THE PRINCE.
But never have I forgotten these! The proof is, I am here, following the prickly quest for the Sleeping Beauty in the enchanted forest of moss-roses!
FIRST FROG.
All Kings’ Sons to whom the tale is told sooner or later follow the same quest!
THE PRINCE.
And fall beside the way! [_Sighs, on which all the HEARTS sigh also._]
SECOND FROG.
True! Failures, but glorious! They fell because they were in advance of their time! But you—
THE PRINCE.
I?
SECOND FROG.
You will succeed, because you are the Man of the Hour!
THE PRINCE.
[_Bows._] I thank you much for telling me this!
FIRST FROG.
Don’t mention it! We have followed you, every step of the way, rather slowly, because of my brother’s rheumatism—
SECOND FROG.
I always get rheumatism unless I have wet feet! To sit in a puddle on a chilly evening, that’s the only way to keep well!
FIRST FROG.
At any rate we got ahead of the jackdaw and the robin. Flighty things, they stopped to wake up everybody and have a bit of worm with every old acquaintance on the way!—There they are now! Flighty things! [_He shakes his stick at two birds whom we hear chattering and whistling in a nearby thicket._]
THE PRINCE.
My old friends! [_He waves his hand, whistling to the BIRDS who respond in kind._] But, come! To work!
FIRST FROG.
Sir, we ask the privilege of following the adventure with you! In our tadpole days, aye, even as pollywogs, we were devoted to the Frog who was the oldest and most respected inhabitant of our pond. When he was chosen godfather to the Princess it was we who carried the christening mug to the palace. We were present when he was knighted, and baroneted! And now, if he has dried up we wish to bestow on him a watery grave and dig a mud-hole to his memory. [_He weeps._]
SECOND FROG.
That’s it; a mud-hole to the memory of Sir Amphibious! [_Weeps._]
THE PRINCE.
Gentlemen, your sentiments do you credit, and believe me, if there is anything I can do in the way of restoratives ... casting a wet blanket, or the like—! Why, what’s this? [_Stepping aside, he stoops to examine something against which his foot had brushed._]
ALL.
[_Excited._] What is it?
THE PRINCE.
The hand of a man—not dead, but warm with sleep!
MENTOR.
[_Excited, stoops to examine._] A man wearing the badge of Court Gardener, of the time of King Johannes Giovanni John!
[_Releasing the spray from the GARDENER’S hand the PRINCE raises this, whereupon it snaps back toward the still invisible mug. ALL exclaim, and set to work vigorously, assisted by the FRAGMENTS, and soon all the sprays are drawn aside, curtain-wise, or pulled back by unseen forces toward the mug. At last the scene is revealed, of the COURT asleep, PRINCESS MOSS-ROSE in the centre, on her couch, against the mug. ALL exclaim, and do homage._]
THE PRINCE.
At last, at last!
THE HEAD FRAGMENTS.
At last!
[_THE HEARTS sigh._]
THE PRINCE.
Poor dears, to think that I should succeed where such good men and true have failed!
FIRST FROG.
Ah, to be the Man of the Hour—that’s success! If only one knows enough to realise it!
SECOND FROG.
And there, there, is our own dear Sir Amphibious! Not changed one bit!
MENTOR.
Well, it’s all very well to talk of success, but after all you have only come upon a bit of still-life, a canvas by an old master, as it were! And the chances are it would crumble to dust if you were to transfer it to the Royal Museum!
THE PRINCE.
But they’re only asleep!
THE FROGS.
That’s all!
MENTOR.
What’s the difference, if you can’t wake them?
THE PRINCE.
But I must! I must!... Eh, my friends?
VOICES.
[_From invisible sources._] You must!
THE PRINCE.
[_Gazing on MOSS-ROSE from afar._] And yet, so beautiful, how dare I?
THE VOICES.
You must!
THE PRINCE.
[_To MENTOR._] You hear? They say I must!
MENTOR.
Who say so? Simply the echoes of your sophomoric fancy!
THE VOICES.
Fiddlestrings!
MENTOR.
Eh? I beg your pardon?
THE VOICES.
Fudge! Gammon and spinach!
MENTOR.
[_Piqued._] Oh, very well! Only I don’t see the good of getting a degree if I’m not allowed to know anything about anything!
A SINGLE VOICE.
Go forward! Take your fate into your own hands!
THE PRINCE.
Who gave me that counsel? You, my jackdaw? You, friend robin?
FIRST FROG.
Oh, that’s Destiny! Destiny always is in at the death!
THE PRINCE.
The death?
FIRST FROG.
Or the other ending!
MENTOR.
Well, if they have to be wakened let’s go to work and waken them! Here, I’ll begin with the governess! [_He approaches the GOVERNESS._] Miss! I regret to disturb you, Miss, but do you happen to know the date? Where was the first nail knocked, eh? How many scruples make a conscience? Bah! Things that I could answer in my sleep!
THE FROGS.
[_Stroking SIR AMPHIBIOUS._] Dry as a bone, poor dear! Lucky we brought a wet sponge with us! [_After repeated efforts to arouse their friend, they desist in despair._] Dear, dear, if we could only get him down to the _marshes_!
THE PRINCE.
What can I do? [_He appeals to the HEARTS who sigh in response. He listens to them more closely._] What’s that? You want to sing! [_He sets them in the window where they give the notes of the scale, like an Æolian harp._] Do, re, mi, fa, sol, la, si—and the scale is closed by the echo in my own heart! What is it you sing,
King’s son, King’s son, Nothing ventured, nothing won! Forward! Forward! To your bliss! Wake your Princess with your kiss!
[_At this the PRINCE throws up his arm in an ecstasy of understanding, then reverently approaches the sleeping MOSS-ROSE, and, stooping, kisses her. The HEARTS sigh in musical sympathy not unmixed with personal regret. MOSS-ROSE stirs slightly, then, by degrees wakens fully. Meanwhile the PRINCE stands aside. ALL waken._]
MOSS-ROSE.
Oh, mother, father, I had such a dream! I dreamed that I was asleep!
THE KING.
Oh, my child, impossible! Though I believe I’ve had forty winks myself! What were we saying, love?
THE QUEEN.
About our daughter’s future. You know it’s time we thought of a suitable, ahem!
THE CHANCELLOR.
A suitable alliance, madam! I was just running over the list of marriageable princes!
THE GARDENER.
[_Waking._] Eh, a bonny bush from a wee slip!
THE FROG.
Oh, I am so dry! Eh? Who’s this? And this? [_Seeing the other FROGS._]
MOSS-ROSE.
I dreamed I had been asleep one hundred years—We all had been asleep one hundred years! I wonder if it could be true!
THE GOVERNESS.
But, my dear, such things don’t happen!
MENTOR.
Yes, they do! And you’re a living illustration!
THE GOVERNESS.
[_Surprised._] I beg your pardon! Whoever you are, if you had a diploma you would know better!
MENTOR.
If you had a degree you’d know better, so there!
MOSS-ROSE.
[_Half rising from her couch._] Haven’t we all been asleep one hundred years?
THE QUEEN.
What can the child mean?
THE CHANCELLOR.
There’s no precedent for it, Your Royal Highness! And yet—[_Yawns and rubs eyes._]
MOSS-ROSE.
There was a word that everyone was afraid to say to me!
ALL.
[_Beginning to remember._] Oh, yes!
MOSS-ROSE.
Beginning with s-p!
ALL.
Oh, hush!
MOSS-ROSE.
Oh, but one mustn’t be afraid of anything!... What’s this? [_Noticing the spindle in her hand. ALL look, interested._]
MENTOR.
[_Advances, examines it._] Spindle belonging to a spinning-wheel of a century ago!
ALL.
[_Exclaim, remembering._] Oh!
MOSS-ROSE.
That’s the word! Spin! Oh, it won’t ever hurt me any more!
[_As she speaks the spindle is drawn by its thread back into the mug._]
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Remembering._] To be sure. Sentence commuted—kindness of Sir Amphibious—sleep for one hundred years!
ALL.
[_Remembering._] To be sure!
THE FROG.
[_Waking fully._] Oh, I am so dry! Eh, what? Why, here are my two tadpoles! Quite grown up, eh, lads!
MOSS-ROSE.
[_Rising._] And here’s my birthday cake, uncut! But now I’m one hundred and sixteen years old! But my dream—A great many Kings’ Sons tried to hack their way through the moss-rose forest! [_The HEARTS sigh loud, the FRAGMENTS salute, and do homage, as best they can._] See! See! There they all are, what’s left of them! But one—Prince Charming was his name! Ah, me! [_She turns away, and so comes face to face with the PRINCE who now steps forward._] Ah! You—are you real, or my dream?
THE PRINCE.
By my faith, lady, I do not know! It is all as I myself have hoped and dreamed, only more beautiful!
THE KING.