Part 5

MR. J--E K. J--E (elected) 333 MR. R--D--D K--P--G 12 MR. M--X B--B--M 3 MR. H--LL C--E 2

[_The Meeting breaks up amidst terrific cheers._

CURTAIN.

X

CALIGULA’S PICNIC

SCENE.--_A large banqueting table in the centre of a bridge, which stretches for three miles between Puteoli and Baiæ. The_ EMPEROR CALIGULA _is reclining in the place of honour. There are hundreds of guests._

RUFUS (_an intensely eager, bearded man to his neighbour_ PROTEUS, _a dandy_). As I was saying, the whole point of the question is this: all diseases come from the secretion in the blood of certain poisons. Now since we imbibe these poisons from certain foodstuffs, what I say is--Cut off the poison at the supply.

PROTEUS (_helping himself to roast boar with stuffing_). Yes, yes, perfectly.

RUFUS. Cut off the poison at the supply. Prevent; don’t try to cure when it’s too late. You follow me?

PROTEUS (_absently_). Exactly. (_He gives himself an additional helping of roast boar._)

RUFUS. But there you are, helping yourself to poison again. (RUFUS _gives up_ PROTEUS _and turns to his other neighbour._)

HYGERIUS (_on_ PROTEUS’S _right, an aged Senator_). May I trouble you for the peacock?

PROTEUS. I beg your pardon. (_He passes the peacock._)

HYGERIUS. I suppose these peacocks are imported.

PROTEUS (_not interested_). I suppose so.

HYGERIUS. Now what I say is, the land’s the question.

PROTEUS (_foreseeing a discourse on political economy_). The General is trying to catch your eye.

HYGERIUS. Where? Where? I don’t see him.

PROTEUS. Right at the other end of the table. (_To his vis-à-vis,_ DEMOPHILUS, _an officer._) Were you lucky yesterday?

DEMOPHILUS. No, I lost. They told me Chilon was a certainty.

PROTEUS. Ah! Chilon.

DEMOPHILUS. He didn’t do himself justice.

PROTEUS. Over-trained?

HYGERIUS (_to his vis-à-vis,_ PETRONIUS, _a fashionable philosopher_). Now you no doubt agree with me that nowadays the whole problem of agriculture----

PETRONIUS (_upsetting a large bowl of wine on the table on purpose_). A thousand pardons! It was too awkward of me.

[_Slaves come and mop up the mess._

SEVERUS (_a literary man, sitting on_ HYGERIUS’S _left, to_ PETRONIUS). “Spilt wine shall buy the favour of the Gods,” as Particus says.

PETRONIUS. Have you seen Cossatius’s play?

SEVERUS. Yes, it’s clever, but----

HYGERIUS. That kind of play ought not to be tolerated. It undermines the principles of morality.

SEVERUS. Morals have nothing to do with art.

HYGERIUS. I repeat that these kinds of plays are the ruin of the Empire.

PETRONIUS. I see you are on the side of the “Extensionists.”

HYGERIUS. I don’t know what you mean by an “Extensionist,” but if you mean a Roman and a patriot----

PETRONIUS. No, I mean a Greek and a swindler.

PROTEUS. Excellent eels--try them.

RUFUS. Let me beg you not to touch them; they are full of poison.

DEMOPHILUS (_alarmed_). Poison! Who’s poisoned them?

PETRONIUS. Rufus means they give you gout.

PROTEUS. I once knew a man who ate twenty-seven eels for a bet.

DEMOPHILUS (_really interested_). Oh! Did he win?

PROTEUS. Yes; but he died afterwards. Hush! the speeches are beginning.

PETRONIUS. Oh dear! Oh dear!

[_The_ PREFECT OF PUTEOLI _rises farther up the table._

THE PREFECT. Friends and citizens, and more especially, citizens of Puteoli and Baiæ: It is with feelings of peculiar emotion that I rise to propose that toast, which of all toasts is the nearest to the heart and leaps most readily to the lips of a Roman--I mean, of course, the toast of our beloved Emperor. I may say that in all the vast extent of this Empire, of which we are so justly proud, the Emperor has no more loyal subjects than those of Baiæ and--(_cheers_)--of Puteoli. (_Cheers._) Although in the past we of Puteoli may not always have been able to see eye to eye with our neighbours of Baiæ, in matters of local administration, to-day, happily, all such rivalry has ended. And to whom is this due? To whom but the Emperor, who, with his knowledge of the Roman heart, has had the happy, the graceful, nay, more, the truly Imperial and the truly Roman idea of joining the two cities by this elegant and monumental bridge. (_Loud cheers._) We of Puteoli are not quick to forget the benefit we have received in the past from the Imperial Family. And some of us who are here present remember that auspicious and never-to-be-forgotten day when the Emperor’s illustrious father, the ever-memorable Germanicus--(_loud and prolonged cheers_)--I say many of us here present will recall that thrice-memorable occasion when the illustrious Germanicus--(_loud cheers_)--paid us a visit. Romans, I have no wish to rake up things which are better forgotten; I have no desire to abuse the ashes of him who, whatever his faults and his failings may have been, is now for ever beyond the reach of our recrimination. We Romans have a proverb which says: “Of the dead nothing but good”--(_cheers_)--and you, citizens of Puteoli and Baiæ, have ever strictly observed, both by precept and by practice, the wisdom that has been handed down to us in the popular phrases of the Roman people. (_Cheers._) Therefore, it is with no fear of being misunderstood, and in no carping or unjust spirit, that I say that the example which our beloved Emperor Caligula is daily setting us, both in peace and in war, and in all the arts and graces of life--this example is, I say, as it were, heightened when we--and we of Puteoli and Baiæ are especially sensible of the fact--when we think of the shortcomings and the mistakes of the late and unfortunate Tiberius--(_hisses and groans_)--shortcomings and mistakes to which our present Emperor put so swift an end, and out of whose ashes he bade our Empire and our Government, our internal affairs and our foreign policy, rise rejuvenated and splendid like the Phœnix. (_Cheers._) Citizens, I will detain you no longer. All I will say is this: so long as we have at the head of us one who is the pattern of what a Roman gentleman should be, one who is at the same time the elder brother and the father of his people, so long as this shall be, so long will the Roman Empire, throughout all its length and breadth, act together in that same spirit of fraternal love and unity, bound by ties as strong as that with which our Emperor has to-day united and linked the people of Baiæ to the people of Puteoli. Citizens, I propose the health of the divine Emperor. (_Loud cheers. The toast is drunk with enthusiasm._)

HYGERIUS. A first-rate speech.

THE PREFECT OF BAIÆ (_rises_). Citizens, it is with the keenest sense of my unfitness to so exalted a task that I rise to propose the toast which is second on our list, that toast which of all others, with the exception of that which we have just drunk, is most grateful to Roman ears, namely, the Army. (_Cheers._) Although not a soldier myself, my heart is with the Army; but I will go farther, I will say that all of us, whatever our avocations may be, whether we be lawyers, merchants, engineers, painters, poets, philosophers, are in a sense soldiers of the Emperor. (_Cheers._) And Peace, citizens, has its battles as well as War. (_Loud cheers._) To-day we are gathered together to celebrate one of those battles--a battle which has ended in a triumph. (_Cheers._) [DEMOPHILUS (_aside_). What battle?] I allude to the completion of this handsome bridge--(_cheers_)--which is a notable--I may even say an unparalleled example--of the triumph of man’s will over the elements. As the immortal poet Camerinus--(_cheers_)--has said:

O’er vanquished Nature Man shall spread his sway, And force the fretful ocean to obey.

(_Cheers._)

And while the utmost credit is due to the skill and patience with which the engineers, Demonax and Hegias, of Corinth, have executed their stupendous task, still greater praise is due to the Emperor, in whose fertile brain the great idea had its origin, and without whose unceasing aid and constant interest, it could never have been completed. (_Cheers._) We of Baiæ know how keen was that interest, how valuable that aid, and we will never forget it. I have said, citizens, we are all of us in a sense soldiers, and it is a sight like this, an occasion such as to-day’s, that brings home to every Roman the self-sacrifice, the patience, the stubborn will, and the dogged persistence--qualities all of them essentially military--of the Roman race. I therefore propose the health of the Army, coupled with the name of its glorious Commander-in-Chief, the Emperor. (_Loud cheers. The toast is drunk._)

SEVERUS. He misquoted Camerinus.

[_A_ PRÆTORIAN OFFICER _rises._

THE PRÆTORIAN OFFICER. Citizens, my trade is to speak and not to act--I mean to act and not to speak. (_Loud cheers._) I am a humble particle of what has so rightly been called the great dumb one. (_Cheers._) I thank you all very much for drinking the last toast, and I in my turn have great pleasure in proposing the toast which comes next on the list, namely, the toast of Literature. (_Cheers._) I am not much of a literary man myself, but I greatly enjoy reading the description of battles in the works of that poet who, though not a Roman by birth, is practically a Roman--I mean Homer--(_cheers_)--and also in the great epic of our Roman Homer, I mean Camerinus. (_Loud cheers._) I propose the toast of Literature, coupled with that of the divine Emperor, who, as we all know, is a first-rate author himself. (_Cheers._)

[EROTIANUS, _an elderly poet, rises to reply._

EROTIANUS. Citizens, great and immortal names have been mentioned to-day. Homer, Camerinus, have lent by the very mention of their names a diviner light to this already illustrious occasion. Nor has our gallant friend in his masterly oration failed to remind us of the talents, the brilliant and exceptional literary gifts, of our noble Master. (_Cheers._) I am the last person who should address you on this theme. (_Cries of No, No._) We had hoped that Seneca--(_cheers_)--whose verses are for ever on our lips, would be present. Unfortunately a bad cold has detained him in Rome. Æsculapius has conquered the Muses--(_cries of Shame_)--and instead of a brilliant literary light you have the flicker of a new artisan in the field of letters. (_Cries of No, No._) I am, if I may say so, no more than a humble shepherd on the slopes of Parnassus. But, citizens, those slopes are so high and so wide that there is room on them for the greatest, such as Homer and Ovid--(_cheers_)--and for more humble but none the less painstaking, such as Virgil and myself. (_Cheers._) I will now proceed to read to you a short epic in six cantos which I have prepared for this occasion. (_Cheers. He clears his throat._) It is called “The Bridge.” (_Cheers._)

[_The_ EMPEROR _makes a signal, upon which a regiment of Prætorians, concealed in a neighbouring tent, rush among the guests armed with swords and sharp tridents, and proceed to toss them into the sea. The meal breaks up in confusion. Some of the guests escape, but a large number are drowned, including_ EROTIANUS.

CURTAIN.

XI

THE AULIS DIFFICULTY

SCENE.--AGAMEMNON’S _tent at Aulis. Discovered:_ AGAMEMNON _seated at a camp table writing._

_Enter_ IPHIGENIA

IPHIGENIA. Do you want to speak to me, papa?

AGAMEMNON (_nervously_). Yes, yes, a moment. (_A pause._)

IPHIGENIA. Well?

AGAMEMNON. Sit down--on that chair--it’s more comfortable there.... I ... er.... (_A pause._)

IPHIGENIA. If you’ve got nothing particular to say, papa, I’ll go, if you don’t mind; because mamma wants me to help her with the dinner. The cook is quite helpless----

AGAMEMNON. Wait a minute. I do want to speak to you very particularly.... (_A pause._)... It’s a lovely day again to-day.

IPHIGENIA. Really, papa----

AGAMEMNON. It’s not so irrelevant as you think. You see, there’s not a breath of wind.

IPHIGENIA. I know. They say it’s quite impossible for you to start.

AGAMEMNON. We shall have been here two months next Tuesday.

IPHIGENIA. You mean next Saturday.

AGAMEMNON. Tuesday or Saturday, it’s all the same.

IPHIGENIA. It’s a mercy we did stop here. Mamma says that your linen was in a dreadful state, and that if she hadn’t come out she doesn’t know how you would have managed.

AGAMEMNON. Yes, I don’t say that the stay hasn’t been of some use; but now it is absolutely essential that we should get to Troy.

IPHIGENIA. Why don’t you start to-day?

AGAMEMNON. Whenever we put to sea there’s either no wind at all, or a gale which drives us straight back home.

IPHIGENIA. It is very tiresome, but it can’t be helped, can it?

AGAMEMNON. Well, that’s just it. I’m afraid it can be helped.

IPHIGENIA. What do you mean, papa?

AGAMEMNON. To cut a long story short, Calchas consulted the Oracle this morning, and it appears, he says, I mean the Oracle said, or rather the goddess----

IPHIGENIA. Which goddess?

AGAMEMNON. Artemis.

IPHIGENIA. Oh, she’s impossible.

AGAMEMNON. Well, as I told you, Calchas says that it is Artemis who is causing the delay by sending us adverse winds, and----

IPHIGENIA. Can’t something be done?

AGAMEMNON. That is precisely the point. The goddess has, through the Oracle, suggested a way out of the difficulty, and it concerns you.

IPHIGENIA. Me? What can I have to do with it?

AGAMEMNON. Now, my dearest Iphigenia, I want you to be reasonable. You always were a sensible girl, and I want you to bring all your good sense to bear on this ... in this ... er ... trying occasion.

IPHIGENIA. I don’t understand.

AGAMEMNON. I will go straight to the point. Artemis says that we shall never leave Aulis unless you consent to go through the form of being sacrificed to her.

IPHIGENIA. What do you mean by “going through the form”?

AGAMEMNON. I mean that in all probability ... in fact, quite certainly, the sacrifice would be purely a formal one, and that there is every chance ... in fact, I may say it is almost certain that one of the other gods or goddesses would intervene at the last moment and prevent the sacrifice from being fatal.

IPHIGENIA. You mean to say that there is not the slightest chance of my being killed--that it’s only a farce?

AGAMEMNON. I won’t go so far as that ... but I will say that as far as we know every precedent in the past----

IPHIGENIA. Oh, bother the precedents. What I want to know is this: Is there the slightest chance of my being _really_ sacrificed?

AGAMEMNON. It is highly improbable, of course; only you _must_ consent; you must behave exactly as if you were going to be sacrificed; you must express your entire willingness to lay down your life for your country; and knowing what a patriotic, obedient, filial child you are, I am certain this will be a positive pleasure to you.

IPHIGENIA. I won’t.

AGAMEMNON. You mean you won’t even pretend to----

IPHIGENIA. I won’t have anything to do with it at all--I think it’s monstrous, and I’m sure mamma will agree with me.

AGAMEMNON. My dearest child, let me beg of you not to say a word about this to your mother just yet.

IPHIGENIA. Of course I shall tell her. (_Enter Clytæmnestra._) Here is mamma. Mamma----

CLYTÆMNESTRA. What is all this?

IPHIGENIA. Papa says I must be sacrificed to Artemis, in order that they may have a smooth passage to Troy, and to prevent Ajax being sea-sick. I say I won’t. (_She begins to cry._)

CLYTÆMNESTRA (_taking her in her arms_). Of course you shan’t, my love--my darling. (_To_ AGAMEMNON) What is this ridiculous nonsense?

AGAMEMNON. I assure you it is not my doing. I merely repeated what Calchas had said. He consulted the Oracle, and it appears that Artemis is vexed: she is, in fact, very much displeased. She says we shall never leave Aulis unless Iphigenia consents to go through the form of being sacrificed--of course it’s only a matter of form--but she must consent.

CLYTÆMNESTRA. I see. As long as I’m here my child shall not degrade herself by being a party to any ridiculous farce of this nature. I don’t care a bit if we do stay here. You ought never to have come here for one thing. I always said it was absurd from the first--just because of Helen’s silly escapade. If you can’t get a fair wind you’ll have to go home; but you shan’t touch Iphigenia.

_Enter a_ MAID

THE MAID (_to_ CLYTÆMNESTRA). The cook wants to know whether the fish are to be boiled or fried.

CLYTÆMNESTRA (_angrily_). I told her fried. (_To_ AGAMEMNON) I must go and look after her. I’ll be back in a moment.

[_Exit_ CLYTÆMNESTRA.

AGAMEMNON. There, you see what you’ve done. You’ve set your mother against the whole plan.

IPHIGENIA (_crying_). I hope I have. Of course, if you want to kill me, please do ... just (_sobbing_) as if I were a sheep.

AGAMEMNON. My dear child, do be calm. Who ever talked of killing----

_Enter_ CALCHAS

AGAMEMNON. She won’t hear of it.

CALCHAS. My dear child, please be sensible and think of the interests at stake. Remember you are grown up, and we grown-up people have to face these things.

IPHIGENIA. I don’t care what you say, I won’t be sacrificed--I won’t be killed like a sheep.

CALCHAS. Even if the worst came to the worst, I promise you you would feel no pain. I assure you we have reached a pitch of perfection in the working of these things which makes all accidents impossible. Besides, think of the honour and the glory.

AGAMEMNON. And it’s not as if she would be killed _really_.

CALCHAS. It’s extremely improbable; but even if she were to lose consciousness and not recover, I am sure most girls would envy her. Just think, your statue would be put up in every city in Greece.

AGAMEMNON. All the poets would celebrate her.

CALCHAS. You see it’s not as if she were married.

AGAMEMNON. She has always refused every one.

CALCHAS. And now it’s too late.

AGAMEMNON. Girls are so independent nowadays.

CALCHAS. They think nothing of tradition, country, or of the respect they owe their parents. They are ungrateful.

AGAMEMNON. They never think of what they owe the goddesses. In my time....

_Enter_ ODYSSEUS

IPHIGENIA. I don’t care what you say. I won’t be sacrificed. (_She bursts into tears._)

[ODYSSEUS _whispers to_ AGAMEMNON _and_ CALCHAS _to withdraw. They go out._

ODYSSEUS. And how is our little Iphigenia to-day?

IPHIGENIA (_drying her eyes_). Quite well, thank you; only papa wants to kill me.

ODYSSEUS. Kill you, my dear child! I assure you you are mistaken. Nobody, and least of all your father, could dream of such a thing. You are the life and soul of the expedition. It was only this morning I wrote to Penelope to tell her how well you were looking and what a difference it made to all of us your being here.

IPHIGENIA. Papa wants me to be sacrificed.

ODYSSEUS. You can’t have understood your father. Let me explain it to you. You know what Artemis is; she’s a charming goddess--quite charming--only she’s touchy. Well, she happens to be very much put out at this moment by the attention that has been paid to the other goddesses; and by a very regrettable oversight her sacrifice has been neglected once or twice lately. Of course she is put out; but, believe me, the situation only requires tact--just a little tact ... and we all want you to help us.... You see if you don’t help us we are lost, and the whole expedition may be ruined, all just for the want of a little tact at the right moment. Now, nobody can help us as well as you can. You see Artemis has taken a peculiar fancy to you. She admires you enormously. I happen to know this on the very best authority. She thinks you are far more beautiful than your Aunt Helen. At the same time she is just a shade hurt that you never take any notice of her. Now, what we want you to do is to consent to our stratagem: a delicate piece of flattery which will soothe Artemis and make everything all right. All you will have to do is to wear the most beautiful dress--white and silver--and a band of wrought gold studded with rubies round your head, and to walk with your wonderful hair reaching almost to your feet, in a procession of weeping maidens to the Temple; and there, after the usual prayers and chants, you will sing a hymn to Artemis, especially composed for the occasion, to a flute accompaniment; then, in the gaze of all the crowd, you will kneel down before the altar, and Artemis, flattered and pleased, will carry you off in a cloud, and substitute a sheep or something else for you. Every one will praise you; you will have had all the amusement of the festival, all the glory and honour of the sacrifice, and none of the inconvenience.

IPHIGENIA (_pensively_). It would be rather fun. Are you sure I shouldn’t risk being killed really? Calchas said I probably would.

ODYSSEUS. Calchas knows nothing about it at all. I promise you that it’s just as safe as if you were going to sing at the festival of Bacchus.

IPHIGENIA. But what will happen to me afterwards?

ODYSSEUS. That must be a secret between you and me. Artemis has arranged that a charming young man shall carry you away. I need not mention his name, as you know it too well. It begins with an A. But the marriage must remain a secret until after the siege.

IPHIGENIA. All right, I will do it. I mean I will pretend to consent, but there must be no question of its really coming off. That you must swear.

ODYSSEUS. I swear we shall sacrifice a sheep instead of you, or if the worst comes to the worst Achilles’ slave, who is so like you.

IPHIGENIA. And then I shall really marry Achilles.

_Enter_ CLYTÆMNESTRA

ODYSSEUS (_to_ CLYTÆMNESTRA). It’s all settled; only don’t discuss it with Agamemnon. He doesn’t quite know how to deal with goddesses. He is--you forgive me saying so--a little bit heavy.

CLYTÆMNESTRA (_to_ IPHIGENIA). You don’t mean to say you’ve consented. I forbid it.... I am your mother, and I positively forbid you to do any such thing.

IPHIGENIA. I’m of age. I’m old enough to judge what I can do and what I can’t do. It’s my duty, and it’s a question of principle; and if I choose to be sacrificed, nobody has the right to prevent me. And I _do_ choose. The one thing I’ve always longed for all my life has been to die for my country.

[_Exit_ IPHIGENIA _in a passion._

[ODYSSEUS _looks at_ CLYTÆMNESTRA _and smiles._

CLYTÆMNESTRA. Serpent!

CURTAIN.

XII

DON JUAN’S FAILURE

LUCASTA. My mother will be down directly, if you don’t mind waiting.

DON JUAN. On the contrary, I could wait a hundred years in the company of one whom I know not whether she be a goddess or a mortal.

LUCASTA (_blushing_). It’s very kind of you to say so, sir, but I am very busy this morning. I am wanted at the farm to see about the cows.

DON JUAN. Fortunate cows! But cannot they wait a moment? Surely there is no desperate hurry?

LUCASTA. I am late already, sir, and I am loath to keep people waiting.

DON JUAN. How nice, how considerate and charming of you. I adore those who are loath to keep others waiting. It is the revelation of a delightful nature. I am sure we shall be friends. I feel as if we had always known one another.

LUCASTA. Oh, sir, but I do not even know your name! I only know you are the Spanish nobleman who was expected.

DON JUAN (_proudly_). My name is one you may perhaps have heard of. I am Don Juan of Seville.

LUCASTA. One of our ponies is called Don Juan--the old one. It takes the children out in a cart; but he’s lame now.

DON JUAN (_vexed_). You must let me give you a horse, a fiery steed fit to carry you, for I’m sure you ride like Diana, and you shall call that Don Juan.

LUCASTA. Thank you, sir, but my mother says one must never accept gifts from strangers.

DON JUAN. But I am not a stranger. You must not look upon me as a stranger. You must look upon me as a friend.

LUCASTA. Mistress Markham says that one has no right to call people friends until one has known them for seven years.

DON JUAN. Who is Mistress Markham?

LUCASTA. She is our governess.