TRANSFORMATION
The same city, decorated with innumerable flags. Two Workmen are putting the finishing touches to a speaker’s rostrum.
First Workman:
I should have preferred oleander to fir-trees. Oleander, I should say, has a more solemn appearance.
Second Workman:
But fir-trees make things look more cheerful.
[Enter two Constables, who look on.
First Workman:
Oleander is better to work with.
Second Workman:
Oleander and palms are better when there’s a statue between them. But fir-trees are nicest with flags.
First Workman:
Or flowers.
Second Workman:
Well, that’s finished.
First Workman:
That’s a good thing. Now let’s be off.
[Exeunt. The Constables approach.
It’s a nice platform. The fir-tree on it looks all right.
Second Constable:
Oleander wouldn’t have been bad, either.
First Constable:
Oleander goes better with a statue.
Second Constable:
They might have put some flowers there as well.
First Constable:
Of all flowers my favourites are snow-drops.
Second Constable:
Why snow-drops? What is there so special about snow-drops? There are other flowers better than them.
First Constable:
I don’t know. Perhaps because they are the earliest buds. The earth is still dead, and already the first snow-drops appear. When I see them, it somehow touches me to the heart; words are beyond me—why, I almost feel ready to cry, or what-not, and it makes me want to roam about on the mountains. I am from the mountains. There wasn’t many people there. When I was a small boy, I used to take snow-drops home with me. Mother was so fond of them.
Second Constable:
Now, I like jasmine best. It’s got the most smell. Hallo! it’s burst. At the thumb. My gloves always burst at the thumb.
Now I always get them most dirty at the thumbs. Snow-drops
Second Constable (looking at his watch):
Well, it’ll start soon now. But there’s nobody here yet.
[Enter First and Second Man and Stripling, and sit down near the proscenium.]
First Constable:
Now they’re crowding up all at once
Second Constable:
And never any proper order.
The Stripling:
I say, aren’t they dressed up? And what shiny boots!
First Man:
And white gloves. They can afford it. Why, I haven’t even got any socks.
Second Man:
I’ve got some, but they’re full of holes.
The Stripling:
But these policemen have got holes in their socks too, I expect.
First Man:
Go and ask them.
The Stripling:
Yes, but I’d rather not wait for an answer.
Pooh! they’re human beings same as what we are.
The Stripling:
But they’ve got their eye on us like a couple of bulldogs. Hi! what are you staring at?
First Man:
I’ve come across that fat one before. He ran me in once. For being disorderly, so he said.
The Stripling:
Yes, he’s a bad ’un. I know him from the demonstrations.
Second Man:
But the other one isn’t, though. He only keeps saying: “Now then, people, don’t be silly.”
First Man:
They’re keeping watch on the platform.
The Stripling:
They’ve got enough flags here. I suppose it’s celebrations again for somebody who’s dead.
First Man:
They wouldn’t celebrate us like that.
Second Man:
Nobody cares a rap about a poor man. But these aren’t celebrations for somebody who’s dead.
First Man:
What are they for, then?
Because the earthquake’s over.
First Man:
It’s all the same to me.
Second Man:
To me, too.
[Short pause. The First Man scratches his left side, then the Second Man does the same.]
First Man:
There’s people here haven’t got a crust of bread to eat, but there’s enough money for celebrations.
Second Man:
These flags’d provide clothes for plenty of people.
First Man:
Nobody troubles about a poor man. Look at the boy.
[In the meanwhile the Stripling has climbed on to the rostrum.]
The Stripling (on the rostrum):
Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen, listen to the latest song about the dreadful earthquake that happened last night:
From yesterday until to-day
What an awful night we’ve had!
The end of the world was not far off,
And the earth it shook like mad.
What ho, what ho, what ho!
Went off their upper storeys;
Lord love us, what a fine mix-up
Of Bolsheviks and Tories!
What a mix-up it is all round
Of wenches and of brats,
Of young ’uns and of old ’uns too,
Of mongrels and tom-cats!
Second Constable:
Stop that, will you? This isn’t a public-house. You just come down from there, or I’ll have to run you in.
[Enter School-children led by Teachers.
First Constable:
Don’t be silly, now.
Second Constable:
This is insubordination.
[The Stripling returns to his place.
First Man:
Ha, ha!
The Stripling:
Ha, ha!
Second Man:
Ha, ha, ha! These kids could learn a thing or two from you. But we shan’t be long now before things get started, I expect.
[Enter Vandergold and Dollarson. The stage fills up.]
Aren’t you going to stay for the celebrations?
Vandergold:
No, I’ve got some things to see to.
Dollarson:
So have I.
Vandergold:
But I’ve given my workmen a holiday. This is a big affair.
Dollarson:
Oh yes, undoubtedly it is. A big affair. But I must be off now.
Vandergold:
Good-bye.
[Exit.
First and Second Constables (controlling the crowd):
Now then, order there, if you please. Stand back a bit there. Back—farther back; that’s it, that’s it. Don’t shove so. Keep in a line there. Move forward a little, gentlemen, this way. Let the children get to the front. And keep quiet here. Just remain quiet, if you please.
[In the meanwhile enter the Mayor with notables and Pieris. The Mayor ascends the rostrum.]
The Mayor (from the rostrum):
Citizens!
The Crowd:
Quiet! Let’s hear what the Mayor has to tell us.
Citizens! We have assembled here for a rare, I may say a unique, celebration. The memory of this moment will be preserved even by future ages, and they will envy us for having had the privilege of participating in so great, so unusual, so elevating an occurrence. In all countries of the world, and precisely at this hour, the whole of mankind is solemnly assembled under the auspices of the same rejoicings by which our beautiful city is set astir. These rejoicings are to-day arched above the world like a rainbow of peace. May this fair rainbow never be blotted out, and may it continue for ever, perpetually shedding the light of family affection upon the links which bind nation to nation, across all continents and oceans.
Our city also was a witness of the bygone night—a night which was a terrible night, for amid turmoil and thunder the earth seemed to be crumbling in its very foundations. Perhaps all of us trembled with the fear that all terrestrial things were about to succumb to perdition and ruin. But it was not so—by no means. This earthquake was not, as we feared, a portent of ruin, but on the contrary, if I may put it so, it was on the contrary, as it were, a mighty symphony, proclaiming the accomplishment of a stupendous miracle and wonder.
The morning, then, brought us the astounding news that in the centre of the ocean there has emerged from the depths of the sea a new land, a new continent.
To the five parts of the world has been added a sixth. A great event has occurred. Its hugeness overwhelms us; its beauty delights and captivates us with a divine awe face to face with the marvels of creation. At the same time, however, we experience a feeling of joy, an emotion of zealous sympathy and humane solidarity, for we are children of the same great mother earth, who this night has laid into our hand the youngest member, the youngest continent, a new world. This family joy to-day solemnly stirs the hearts of all lands and nations of the earth. But this joy can best be interpreted to us only by the words of a poet. Mr. Pieris has consented to recite an ode in honour of the new continent, and I now call upon him to speak.
[The Mayor descends from the rostrum.
Pieris (on the rostrum):
Thanks be bestowed upon heaven and earth!
In the darkness of the heavens roared the organ of the winds
And earth quivered in birth-pangs,
Gnashing her stony teeth.
A great matter has been granted to us by Providence,
From whose lap a new joy has been granted to all.
Welcome ye the new-born!
A radiant star, our beloved sun, illumines it—
The Bethlehem star of us all.
Bring ye your love as a gift unto it,
And strew the light of joy before it.
From our cradle it is born.
Welcome ye the youngest sister!
A new continent has been born from ocean,
New Atlantis.
Ah, from ocean-foam a new Aphrodite emerges.
Nature has created a new land.
It is pure and virginal.
God’s spirit still hovers above it.
Not yet have birds carried the seed of the first tree to it,
Not yet do the springs moisten its mountains,
Not yet has human tread entered it.
Fair is that region and blessed,
Happier than its sisters.
It is a new continent without sin—
A sixth continent, a new paradise,
Better than the others,
The new world of our hopes.
Not yet have human blood and torment tainted it,
Not yet do human misery and brawl abide therein.
Angels soar over it.
Over it are uplifted our dreams and eternal yearnings.
Elan Chol:
This is that land.
The Beloved and the Lover:
This is that land.
The Crowd:
This is that land.
Pieris:
Bare your heads before the sixth continent,
The creation of ancient dreams,
The youngest daughter of earth
Who is mother of all continents and peoples.
Greet ye the youngest sister.
It has yet no name.
Let us then give it the sweetest of names as befits its beauty.
New Eve, Land of Dream, Continent of New Hope
Craved and Vouchsafed.
[The Crowd applauds.
The Mayor (ascends the rostrum):
We have rendered our thanks to the poet. It was most fitting that the Continent of New Hope should first be greeted by a poet. And now sing in chorus the hymn of celebration.
[A band plays the first verse.
Chorus:
Exult, O song of gladsome aim,
Now earth a joy divine can claim,
A boundlessly entrancing prize:
Woe is ended, grief is ended,
A new star from the sea ascended.
Bliss, endless bliss, shall unto it arise.
The Land of Hope shall be its name;
It shall have greetings, goodly fame;
Old yearnings in a new-wrought guise,
There is new faith, new happiness.
All shall the new-found shrine possess.
Bliss, endless bliss, shall unto it arise.
The Mayor:
Three cheers for it!
Hip-hip-hurrah!
[The men wave their hats, the women their handkerchiefs, the children small flags.]
Curtain.