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They Call Me Morton (Part II ONLY)
From a Collection of Crowley's Plays and Scenarios
II
THE ELIXIR
(The Voice Within) I am all dazed. What did he say, at first? “They call me Morton!”
I wonder if he's gone, and left me here. What did he say? He said he'd wait . . . . . awhile!
Awhile . . . . . ? How long it seems to me since last I heard his voice — his mocking voice.
Hi! Morton! MORTON! M O R T O N !
Nothing but echoes. Mort - on! Mort . . . . . on!
The swine! He took my matches. Left me only this . . . . . one match.
And then, those tales he told. Yes! I remember now, the first, it was in all the papers, years ago.
Poor Colin Lloyd!
Poor? did I say? Oh, lucky Colin Lloyd compared to me. He died ! I shall live on . . . . . and ON . . . . . in darkness.
That thought will send me mad if I allow it lodgement. On . . . . . and On . . . . . and On . . . . .
Why! That is Hell! Then, this is Hell, this place!
It is, for me, at any rate.
But who is Morton?
All his ways were strange, and then . . . . . his name?
Mort! — That means Death, I'm sure!
“Death's not for you” he said.
Why! Death has tricked me — left me here . . . . . alive!
And then, that second tale, the tale of Poe's. There was a remedy in that — the man escaped. But I am here in Nature's grip; and Nature's work is sure. The teeth within this trap will close . . . . . on ME!
Oh, I feel faint and sick. If I could find just one smooth spot whereon to lie . . . . . and die.
Die! Why! “You cannot die” he said.
CANNOT!
Hell! How that elixir burns! (The swine!)
He tricked me with that drink! That's where I fell. And he will never breathe a word about my fault. No one will ever know that I am sure — in Carlsbad Cavern.
And my name is Carl! Oh, what a horrid joke. It's bad for me, alright. My cavern! Carl's!
'Twere bad for any one to linger here with Death. But even Death has left me in this hole.
I always thought Death was man's enemy. Yet, 'tis His rule to leave no man alone. All meet him once; all fear to go with Him.
But he has left me! Given me Life —His gift — His very Self, that I may be Un - dying.
What a gift! To be UNDYING in the grasp of Nature while yet Her work goes on . . . . .
“You will be crushed” he said.
How can that be? Alone — for ages — looking forward to eternal crushment in this awful maw!
Hell! This is Hell!
And what will it become . . . . . long ages hence . . . . . for me?
O God! Give me back Death; I never knew I needed Him till now! . . . . .
Hark! Is that Morton's voice? What does he say? “A ray of hope?”
Yes, that's his voice . . . . . but, far away, so I must listen carefully.
(The Voice Without) Can you hear me, friend? Alone in Nature's tomb, There is a ray of hope that someday you'll be free.
Not yet! ah, no! That were too great a boon. Go slow. That is your special privilege.
But listen, friend! You have eternal life — life in the flesh, I say!
But Nature's work goes on. You will be crushed and torn and suffer . . . . . long. But all of Nature gradually corrupts. That is the law! Someday this Earth itself will melt — dissolve — and then, you will be Free.
Think of it, friend! Free . . . . . to drop through Space. Your body's weight will keep you falling . . . . . Falling . . . . . FALLING . . . . .
Others have felt that horror in a dream, but you will know the real thing . . . . . to fall . . . . . and fall . . . . . and fall!
Fall . . . . . where? . . . . .
You must have heard of ON! My name is Mort-ON! ON, the City of the Sun.
You will fall on until . . . . . you reach the SUN! And it is warmer there.
I heard you mention hell! Why, its too cool within this cave to call it that. Be grateful for your lot, and even though your stay seems long, when you pass ON, you'll wish you could return to this fine shelter. Fare thee well!
(Voice Within) That was not Death, his voice — (how sweet seems Death, man's friend). Morton's the fiend incarnate!
“A ray of hope” he said. The swine!
But, shall I fall . . . . . and fall . . . . . millions of miles; to burn at last . . . . . undying in undying fires?
Dave me! O God! (He lies! That devil lies!)
Give me back Faith — and Hope — and Love!
Death! Come to me! Thou art the Gate I need!
That one last match!
It's safe in the box; I hear it rattle in this awful stillness.
“Keep it!” he said.
But he has lied to me all through. Even the Truth he formed into a lie . . . . . and lies he made like Truth.
I'll not take his advice a moment more. 'Twas his advice that brought me into this Abyss — of Sorrow and of Gloom.
One little light! A moment's flicker and it will be gone.
Light . . . . . gone forever!
I will have Faith and Hope!
God is the LIGHT ITSELF. He will not fail me in this hour of need . . . . . of need . . . . . How great my need of God . . . . . and Light.
I will turn right about, and face my fate, undaunted!
Strike! O my God! Strike for me — 'tis my only match.
There is a passage straight ahead of me! I saw it! Now, it's dark again and blacker than before, but I'll crawl to it on my hands and knees. (But first, I'll kneel in prayer.)
It's not so dark now I have had my eyes shut for a little while.
O Light! More Light . . . . . it G R O W S . . . . . the passage Ends . . . . . in Freedom . . . . . in God's Open Air!
Ah! How it fills my lungs with His own gift to man — Fresh Country Air!
Thank God! I know it now! THAT is the Great Elixir of Life!
Finis.
NOTES ON THEME
They Call Me Morton
Part I. The Mouth. Death's call is certain; but man hates to realize it.
Death is man's friend; but man always doubts it.
Now, suppose (Part I) Death only pretended to be man's friend, then tricked and left him untouched — while Nature (otherwise) moves on as usual.
But: (Part II) It is not Death who deceives and cruelly tricks man.
It is the Devil. Even Morton's name, then, was a deception. They call me Morton — in error.
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