[_A Hall at the_ Grand Oriental. _At a long table are seated
innumerable Shades. The walls are decorated with flags of all
nations, and a band of musicians in sham uniform are playing very
loudly on a daïs._]
CATULLUS rises and makes a short speech, pointing out the
advantages of Strong Men, and making several delicate allusions
to Cæsar, who is too much of a gentleman to applaud. He then
gives them the toast of “Imperialism,” to which there is a hearty
response. Lucan replies in a few well-chosen words, and they fall
to conversation.
PETRONIUS--I would be crowned with paper flowers to-night
And scented with the rare opopanax,
Whose savour leads the Orient in, suggesting
The seas beyond Modore.
TALLEYRAND-- Shove up, Petronius,
And let me sit as near as possible
To Mr. Bingoe’s Grand Imperial Band
With Thirty-seven Brazen Instruments
And Kettle-Drums complete: I hear the players
Discourse the music called “What Ho! She Bumps!”
LORD CHESTERFIELD--What Ho! She Bumps! Likewise! C’est ça! There’s
’Air!
LORD GLENALTAMONT OF EPHESUS (_severely_)--Lord Chesterfield! Be
worthy of your name.
LORD CHESTERFIELD (_angrily_)--Lord Squab, be worthy of your
son-in-law’s.
HENRY V.--My Lords! my Lords! What do you with your swords?
I mean, what mean you by this strange demeanour
Which (had you swords and knew you how to use them)
Might ... I forget what I was going to say....
Oh! Yes----Is this the time for peers to quarrel,
When all the air is thick with Agincourt
And every other night is Crispin’s day?
The very supers bellow up and down,
Armed of rude cardboard and wide blades of tin
For England and St. George!
RICHARD YEA AND NAY-- You talk too much.
Think more. Revise. Avoid the commonplace;
And when you lack a startling word, invent it.
[_Their quarrel is stopped by_ THOMAS JEFFERSON _rising to propose
the toast of “The Anglo-Saxon Race.”_]
JEFFERSON--If I were asked what was the noblest message
Delivered to the twentieth century,
I should reply--
(_Etc., etc. While he maunders on_
ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, _and_ CÆSAR _begin talking
rather loud_)
CLEOPATRA--Waiter! I want a little crème de menthe.
(_The waiter pays no attention._)
ANTONY--Waiter! A glass of curaçao and brandy.
(_Waiter still looks at Jefferson._)
CÆSAR--That is the worst of these contracted dinners.
They give you quite a feed for 3_s._ 6_d._
And have a splendid Band. I like the Band,
It stuns the soul.... But when you call the waiter
He only sneers and looks the other way.
CLEOPATRA (_makes a moue_).
CÆSAR (_archly_)--Was _that_ the face that launched a thousand ships
And sacked....
ANTONY (_angrily_)--Oh! Egypt! Egypt! Egypt!
THOMAS JEFFERSON (_ending, interrupts the quarrel_).
... blessings
Of order, cleanliness, and business methods.
The base of Empire is a living wage.
One King ... (_applause_) ... (_applause_)
... (_applause_) shall always wave ... (_applause_)
... (_loud applause_) ... (_applause_)
THE REIGN OF LAW!
(_Thunders of applause_)
NAPOLEON (_rising to reply_)--I am myself a strong Imperialist.
A _brochure_, very recently compiled
(Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read),
Neglects the point, I think; the Anglo-Saxon ... (&c. &c.)
GEORGE III. (_to Burke_)--Who’s that? Eh, what?
Who’s that? Who ever’s that?
BURKE--Dread sire! It is the Corsican Vampire.
GEORGE III.--Napoleon? What? I thought that he was leaner.
I thought that he was leaner. What? What? What?
NAPOLEON (_sitting down_) ... such dispositions!
Order! _Tête d’Armée!_
(_Slight applause_)
HEROD (_rises suddenly without being asked, crosses his
arms, glares, and shouts very loudly_).
Ha! Would you have Imperial hearing? Hounds!
I am that Herod which is he that am
The lonely Lebanonian (_interruption_) who despaired
In Deep Marsupial Dens ... (_cries of “Sit down!”_)
... In dreadful hollows
To--(“_Sit down!_”)--tear great trees with the
teeth, and hurricanes--(“_Sit down!_”)--
That shook the hills of Moab!
CHORUS OF DEAD MEN--Oh! Sit down.
(_He is swamped by the clamour, in the midst of which
Lucullus murmurs to himself_)
LUCULLUS (_musing_)--The banquet’s done. There was a tribute drawn
Of anchovies and olives and of soup
In tins of conquered nations; subject whiting:
Saddle of mutton from the antipodes
Close on the walls of ice; Laponian pheasants;
Eggs of Canadian rebels, humbled now
To such obeisance--scrambled eggs--and butter
From Brittany enslaved, and the white bread
Hardened for heroes in the test of time,
Was California’s offering. But the cheese,
The cheese was ours.... Oh! but the glory faded
Of feasting at repletion mocks our arms
And threatens even Empire.
(_Great noise of Vulgarians, a mob of people, heralds,
trumpets, flags. Enter_ VITELLIUS.)
VITELLIUS-- I have dined!
But not with you. The master of the world
Has dined alone and at his own expense.
And oh!--I am almost too full for words--
But oh! My lieges, I have used you well!
I have commanded fifteen hundred seats
And standing room for something like a thousand
To view my triumph over Nobody
Upon the limelit stage.
HEROD-- Oh! rare Vitellius,
Oh! Prominent great Imperial ears! Oh! Mouth
To bellow largesse! Oh! And rolling Thunder,
And trains of smoke. And oh!...
VITELLIUS-- Let in the vulgar
To see the master sight of their dull lives:
Great Cæsar putting on his overcoat.
And then, my loved companions, we’ll away
To see the real Herod in the Play.
(_The Shades pass out in a crowd. In the street_ THEOCRITUS
_is heard singing in a voice that gets fainter and fainter
with distance...._)
“Put me somewhere ea-heast of Su-hez,
W’ere the best is loi-hoike the worst--
W’ere there hain’ no”--(_and so forth_).