THE PANTALOON. The railings are very strong. They are black railings.
They are in front of the area. She hands things to him through the
railings. She gives him things to eat and things to drink.
THE CLOWN. It is on his beat.
THE PANTALOON. No, it is not on his beat, but it is quite close to
his beat. Your poker has got cold.
THE CLOWN. I will warm it. I will warm it on the back of the
policeman. He has a broad back.
[_He rubs the_ POLICEMAN _with the poker._
THE POLICEMAN. That poker is warm. It is much warmer than you think
it is. (_The_ CLOWN _rubs him again._) When you do that I feel
strange. I feel as if a ruby were burning near me.
THE CLOWN. I am warming you with my poker. It is good to be warm. It
is so cold in this street. It never used to be so cold. It is foggy.
The fog makes me hungry and thirsty. I am so hungry that I would like
to eat a sausage.
THE PANTALOON. I am so hungry that I would like to eat many sausages,
first one and then another. I could eat six sausages.
THE CLOWN. Let us go and take some sausages. There are some sausages
hanging in that shop. I cannot see them through the fog, but I know
there are some sausages there.
THE PANTALOON. I can see the sausages. They are all huddled together
like pigeons.
THE CLOWN. They are close together like little wood-pigeons. I like
sausages. But before we go I will warm the policeman. He is so cold.
THE PANTALOON. It is not on his beat.
[_The_ CLOWN _rubs the_ POLICEMAN _with his poker._
THE POLICEMAN. When you do that I feel as if this had happened
before. I feel as if I were in a strange room full of doors and
lighted candles. I do not like the feeling.
[_The_ PANTALOON _and the_ CLOWN _go into the
sausage shop._
_Enter_ COLUMBINE
COLUMBINE. I had nine sisters. They were all blind, and they were all
born on a Friday. Friday is an unlucky day.
THE POLICEMAN. I have been waiting for you. I thought you had gone to
him. He is wanted. I thought you had gone to tell him he is wanted.
COLUMBINE. You never will find him.
THE POLICEMAN. I have been looking for him since Wednesday. I am
tired of looking. It was not on my beat.
COLUMBINE. You will never find him. He knows you are looking for him.
When he sees you coming round the corner of the street he runs away
round the other corner. He runs quicker than you. Nobody runs so
quickly as he does.
THE POLICEMAN. I saw the end of his wand yesterday. It was quite
white. It was as white as the milk in the pails.
COLUMBINE. The milk in the pails is not always white. Sometimes it
is yellow. But his wand is white. He hits people with it and he runs
away. He runs so fast nobody can catch him.
THE POLICEMAN. I saw the spangles of his clothes the day before
yesterday. They were all gold. I looked again and I thought they were
silver spangles. I thought his clothes were red at first. Afterwards
they seemed to be green as leaves in the orchard they cut down.
COLUMBINE. Why did they cut it down?
THE POLICEMAN. Because it was green. There are too many green
orchards.
COLUMBINE. He changes his clothes so quickly nobody knows what he has
got on.
THE POLICEMAN. His clothes are like the scales of fishes. They are
like the scales of grey fishes in the old pond. The old pond is full
of fishes. It ought to be dredged.
COLUMBINE. Nobody will ever dredge the old pond. The children fish in
it.
THE POLICEMAN. His clothes are like the wings of birds. Like the
wings of owls, that fly about in the tower, hooting. The tower is
full of owls. It ought to be pulled down.
COLUMBINE. Nobody will ever pull down the tower. The owls kill the
mice.
THE POLICEMAN. His clothes are like red sparks. Like the sparks that
fly from the horses’ hoofs in the crooked lane. The crooked lane is
full of horses. It ought to be made into a field.
COLUMBINE. It will never be made into a field. Too many people use
the crooked lane. It leads to the mill. It is the shortest way to the
mill.
THE POLICEMAN. His clothes are like the blue pebbles the old women
drop into the stream. The stream is full of pebbles. It ought to be
dried up.
COLUMBINE. It will never be dried up, because the old women wash
their clothes in it. It is not pebbles they throw into it. It is blue
from the blue-bag. They throw it in to whiten the linen.
THE POLICEMAN. I do not know. It is not on my beat. Some people say
it is pebbles. Their linen is all in holes. It is frayed linen.
COLUMBINE. His linen is never frayed.
THE POLICEMAN. His clothes hide his linen. You cannot tell what
colour his clothes are. Sometimes they are blue and sometimes they
are red.
COLUMBINE. Some people say they are grey clothes--grey like the sand.
THE POLICEMAN. They told me they were blue. I am sure his clothes are
blue.
_Enter the_ CLOWN _through the window_
THE CLOWN. I would have brought you some sausages. I would have
brought you a hundred sausages. They are made of pork. The pig was
killed on a Friday.
COLUMBINE. Everything always happens on a Friday. I was born on a
Friday.
THE CLOWN. I would have brought you more sausages than I can eat
myself. I would have brought you more sausages than you can eat.
THE POLICEMAN. Nobody can eat more than a certain amount of sausages.
That is why they are so sad in this street. I can eat a great many
sausages.
COLUMBINE. It is a bad thing to eat too many sausages.
THE CLOWN. It is not right to go into a shop, to take away the
sausages, and to eat them. The shopkeeper called him a thief because
he took away the sausages.
THE POLICEMAN. It is not on my beat.
COLUMBINE. He was very hungry.
THE CLOWN. He had no right to take away all the sausages. There were
none left for us. If he had not taken away all the sausages I could
have brought them to you. He jumped down the chimney. It was cleaned
yesterday. He took away all the sausages. He took away the sausages I
would have brought you. I had meant to bring them all.
THE POLICEMAN. What colour were his clothes?
THE CLOWN. I was so frightened when he took away the sausages that
I did not notice the colour of his clothes. I think they were red
clothes.
THE POLICEMAN. Were they not blue clothes?
THE CLOWN. They may have been blue clothes. He jumped down the
chimney and drew out his knife. It was a steel knife, and there
were spots on the blade. He cut the string of the sausages from the
ceiling. They were all huddled together in the ceiling like birds ...
like birds in the winter.
_Enter the_ PANTALOON
THE PANTALOON. He has taken away all the sausages. I was going to
bring you sausages to eat. They were hanging from the roof like
little fat mice. But I am so old--I forget things. Then he came with
his knife and cut them down. You must take him up. He has stolen the
sausages. They were not his sausages.
THE POLICEMAN. It is not on my beat. What colour were his clothes?
THE PANTALOON. I am so old I forget things. I think they were green
clothes.
THE POLICEMAN. Were they not blue clothes?
THE CLOWN (_to the_ POLICEMAN). You are so cold. I will warm you with
my poker. It is a red-hot poker.
THE POLICEMAN. Whenever you do that I feel strange.
[_The_ CLOWN _rubs him with the poker._
THE POLICEMAN. I will take away your poker. I do not like to be made
to feel strange so often.
[_The_ CLOWN _runs away and jumps through the shop window. The_
POLICEMAN _runs after him. At that moment the_ HARLEQUIN--_he
is all blue--darts round the street corner and runs off with_
COLUMBINE.
THE POLICEMAN. He has run away with her. They said he would come when
I was not looking. I shall never catch him. His clothes were blue.
(_To the_ PANTALOON) I will take you up instead. I will say you took
the sausages. I will not speak the truth. You will speak the truth.
You will say he took the sausages. But they will not believe you.
They will believe me. Now you shall come with me, along.
THE PANTALOON. I am so old. I feel as if all this had happened before.
THE POLICEMAN. I will say it was on my beat.
[_As he leads off the_ PANTALOON, _the_ CLOWN _jumps out of the
window and hits him with the red-hot poker._
THE POLICEMAN. Whenever he does that I feel strange.
[_The_ PANTALOON _escapes and fades into the fog._
CURTAIN.
IX
THE MEMBER FOR LITERATURE
_It having been settled that a Member for “Literature” should be
elected to the House of Commons, a plebiscite was taken among the
members of all the literary clubs and societies in London._
_The result was that_ Mr. M--X B--B--M, Mr. H--LL C--E, Mr.
R--D--D K--P--G, _and_ Mr. J--E K. J--E _all received exactly the
same number of votes. In order to settle which of them should be
chosen, it was decided that these four authors should each in
turn address the same public meeting, after which the election
should be by ballot, and the author chosen by the audience at the
meeting should be the Member for Literature._
SCENE.--_A hall at Battersea. On the platform are a_ CHAIRMAN, _a
small Committee, and the four_ AUTHORS _in question._
Mr. M--X B--B--M (_rises to address the meeting_). No politician I.
A VOICE FROM THE BACK OF THE HALL. Then why the ---- ---- do you come
here to talk politics?
Mr. M--X B--B--M. That, gentle public, is what I wish carefully to
avoid doing. You can lead me to the hustings, but you cannot make
me think--politically. Therefore bear with me a little. Examine
yourselves and you will see that, were you in my position, you would
do exactly what I am going to do now. Candidature has been thrust
upon me. I am forced to speak to you, I am indeed anxious to speak to
you so that you may be able to choose one of the three distinguished
literary men, whom you see before you on this platform, to be your
Literary Member, and I wish to prevent your choice falling upon me.
I will put before you in chosen sentences, which I have carefully
arranged beforehand, the reasons why I think you should not elect
me. I do not want to be elected. To elect me would indeed be an
unfriendly act. Such a choice would not only cause me inconvenience,
but it would bring to yourselves neither profit nor pleasure. Be
sure I should never think of your interests, be surer still I should
never attend the tedious sittings at St. Stephen’s. I have listened
to eloquence at the Oxford Union and to the gentle rhetoric of
Cambridge. Not for me are the efforts of the half-witted and the
wholly inarticulate at Westminster, who stammer where old Gladstone
used to sing. If you have views I am not privy to them, and from your
sympathies I am aloof. I know well enough that you--no more than
I--care a red farthing whether the label of your Member be Liberal or
Conservative. What you do care for, and what leaves me frigid, is the
figure whom you can encourage by chaff or vex by sarcasm.
You want to hear that Lloyd-George ought to be thrown into a den of
Suffragettes--(_Hear, Hear_)--or that Winston Churchill is good and
old. (_Hear, Hear._) You want to hear it not adumbrated, but said
emphatically and without the introduction of a _nuance_, either that
Mr. Balfour is infallible or that he is invincibly ignorant. (_Cheers
and groans._)
Now, I care not whether Mr. Balfour be right or wrong. I murmur to
myself the jest of Pilate, and I do not wait for the answer. And as
to the province of affairs which concerns you here, the province of
the Budget, the Fiscal Question, Home Rule, the House of Lords, the
Disestablishment of the Welsh Church, and other falbalas, it is for
me a vague land into which Leonardo da Vinci never looked forward,
and about which I have not experienced the first curiosity; nor do I
care whether Mr. Balfour be inspired by an angel or an ape. (_Liberal
cheers._)
As to Mr. Asquith’s claims, I am just as undecided and just as
indifferent. (_Conservative cheers._) I know nothing about the
Education Bill or the Children’s Bill; I have heard that one of
these measures will make “Hunt the Slipper” compulsory for children
under five years old, and that there is somewhere a clause being
moulded which will prevent boys over sixteen years of age from
playing marbles in the public thoroughfares. But since before long
children will have votes for themselves and be represented in
Parliament--(_cries of “Votes for Children”_)--we can surely for
the present leave these perplexing questions gently suspended until
they shall be dealt with by those whom they more nearly concern. (_A
little boy is carried out struggling and waving a megaphone._)
But you will say--our Imperial Policy? Well, I will be frank, I am in
favour of the restoration of the Heptarchy. Had I my way even Rutland
should have, not only Home Rule--(_Liberal cheers_)--but a King, by
Divine Right absolute. Of course, I wish our present King to remain
a super-King of all the little Englands, of the 52 (or is it 365?)
counties of England. (_Loud cheers._) As for the Colonies, blood may
be thicker than water, but water, happily for us, is broader than
blood--(_loud cheers_)--and I have always been thankful that we are
separated from America, and from our other high-spirited offsprings,
by so broad an ocean as the Atlantic. Our Colonies are our children.
Their place is in the nursery or at school. There let us leave
them to their ninepins, their whipping-tops, their rocking-horses,
and their marbles. Their exploits can only weary us who are their
grown-up parents, we who are obliged to read their tri-monthly
reports, and to pay wages which we can ill afford for their nurses
and their ushers.
I hear a lady murmuring the words “Budget” and “Fiscal
Question”--magical words it is true. But we need hardly discuss them,
because whatever we say or do there will always be a Budget; there
will always be a Fiscal Question, and a vague alternative to it
preached by an indignant and sanguine Opposition.
Whatever our taxes may be, and however we have to pay them, they
will always have to be paid, and I for one shall never pay them with
ecstasy. (_Cheers._) Formerly the poor had the exclusive right of
paying taxes; now it is rumoured that the rich have usurped that
privilege, and so grossly abused it that, the rich having become
poorer than the poor, the poor must needs pay a super-tax. (_Groans
and cries of “Shame.”_) Well, I only desire that there may always be
people so much richer than myself that they will pay me cheerfully
and generously for taking pains to write what few will trouble to
read. When the day comes that there will be no more rich--(Oh,
dreadful day!)--Max’s occupation will be gone, because even were I
then to draw flaming seascapes in coloured chalk on the paving-stones
of Piccadilly, there will be no one richer than myself to drop a
bad halfpenny into the saucer which shall hang under the card,
so needlessly telling the passer-by what the pictures themselves
proclaim: that the artist is blind.
I think I have now lightly shaken by the hand those questions which,
as the phrase goes, are at issue, and although I have not given you
my reasons in clauses, headings, and sections, I hope I have made it
perspicuous to you that I do not wish to be a member of Parliament,
and that were I to be chosen, I should not lift my eye-glass to
justify your choice; I would not sacrifice the whiff of a cigarette
for all the perfumes of St. Stephen’s. But as a postscript, I am in
favour of full-dress debates; and by that I mean debates in the House
of Lords where the Peers are dressed in robe and coronet; and these
debates, were I King of England, should be compulsory and frequent.
And as one postscript leads to another, I will tell you that were a
more competent Guy Fawkes to blow up the House of Commons, and were
it never to arise from its ashes, I should say “Ouf!”
[_He sits down. Discreet cheers._
MR. H--LL C--E (_rises_). Mr. Chairman, ladies and gentlemen, loath
as I have always been to obtrude upon the public gaze----
A VOICE. Why, it’s Shakespeare!
ANOTHER VOICE. No, it tain’t. It’s the Wax Bust.
MR. H--LL C--E. Loath as I have always been----
A VOICE. As a Manxman, are you, or are you not, in favour of Votes
for Women?
MR. H--LL C--E. Loath as I am----
THE SAME VOICE. He’s not in favour of Votes for Women and he’s a
Manxman! (_A terrific blast is blown on toy trumpets and megaphones._)
ANOTHER VOICE. Tails for Manx Cats.
MR. H--LL C--E. Loath as I am----
VOICES. Votes for Women. (_Loud uproar--some women are ejected._)
[_After a hurried confabulation it is settled that_ MR. R--D--D
K--P--G _shall address the audience, and that_ MR. H--LL C--E
_shall speak later._
MR. R--D--D K--P--G (_rises_). There was once an Aunt-Hill. It was a
small Aunt-Hill, and from the summit to the base of it the distance
was about as long as the slip of an E.P. Tent.
The Aunts were busy. They worked all day and sometimes all night.
Now when Aunts work all night it’s worth going to see. The hill
grew bigger and bigger, and tunnels were burrowed, and after some
months the Aunts had annexed a whole forest. They were pleased with
themselves.
“The sun doesn’t set on our Aunt-Hill,” said one Aunt.
“Our Aunt-Hill is the key of the Eastern forest,” said another. The
Kingdom of the Aunts grew so large that they sent some of their
younger workers to make Aunt-Hills beyond the forest. This they did,
and their Aunt-Hills grew big, too. Then the Aunts were pleased
and said: “We are the greatest Aunts in the World.” But one of the
Aunts--he wrote things for the other Aunts to read--said: “Take care,
you were small once; and if you don’t go on working you’ll be small
again.” But the Aunts said he was a fool. Then the Aunts began to get
slack and look on at their little Aunts playing at rolling the acorn.
Now in a neighbouring forest a rival Aunt set up a hill and began
training an army.
Then the Aunt who wrote things said: “Take care, these new Aunts
will grow strong and take away your Aunt-Hill.” But the Aunts didn’t
listen, they went on looking at the Aunts playing at rolling the
acorn. And one of the leading Aunts said: “He’s a scaremonger, don’t
listen. He’s a ‘Jingaunt.’ It’s Unauntish to say such things.”
So nobody cared, and the new Aunts came and took the old Aunts’
Aunt-Hill and made them all into slaves.
[MR. R--D--D K--P--G _sits down._ (_Cheers._)
MR. J--E K. J--E (_rises_). Mr. Chairman, ladies and gentlemen----
A VOICE. Does your mother know you’re out?
MR. J--E K. J--E. Yes, but my mother-in-law doesn’t. (_Terrific
cheers._) Gentlemen, I don’t think I need say any more. I’m the only
man so far who has said to you a single word you’ve understood.
(_Cheers._) So I think I’ll let well alone. My politics are Home Rule
at Home, and down with Mothers-in-Law. (_Renewed cheering._)
[MR. J--E K. J--E _sits down._
[_After brief consultation on the platform_, MR.
H--LL C--E _rises again._
MR. H--LL C--E. Loath as I am----
MANY WOMEN. What about Votes for Women?
[_There is an uproar; a scuffle and a fight. It is impossible to
continue the business, so the question as to who shall be elected
is put to the Meeting. The people proceed to vote by ballot. The
votes are then counted by the Committee in a room adjoining the
platform. After an interval the_ CHAIRMAN_comes on to the
platform._
THE CHAIRMAN. Ladies and gentlemen, I will now have the pleasure of
reading out the result of the Election. The figures are as follows:--
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._