The Peace Offerring

by H.H. Munro (SAKI)

　　"I want you to help me in getting up a dramatic entertainment ofsome sort," said the Baroness to Clovis. "You see, there's beenan election petition down here, and a member unseated and no endof bitterness and ill-feeling, and the County is socially dividedagainst itself. I thought a play of some kind would be anexcellent opportunity for bringing people together again, andgiving them something to think of besides tiresome politicalsquabbles."The Baroness was evidently ambitious of reproducing beneath herown roof the pacifying effects traditionally ascribed to thecelebrated Reel of Tullochgorum."We might do something on the lines of Greek tragedy," saidClovis, after due reflection; "the Return of Agamemnon, forinstance."The Baroness frowned."It sounds rather reminiscent of an election result, doesn't it?""It wasn't that sort of return;" explained Clovis it was a home-coming.""I thought you said it was a tragedy.""Well, it was. He was killed in his bathroom, you know.""Oh, now I know the story, of course. Do you want me to take thepart of Charlotte Corday?""That's a different story and a different century," said Clovis;"the dramatic unities forbid one to lay a scene in more than onecentury at a time. The killing in this case has to be done byClytemnestra.""Rather a pretty name. I'll do that part. I suppose you want tobe Aga--whatever his name is?""Dear no. Agamemnon was the father of grown-up children, andprobably wore a beard and looked prematurely aged. I shall be hischarioteer or bath-attendant, or something decorative of thatkind. We must do everything in the Sumurun manner, you know.""I don't know," said the Baroness; "at least, I should know betterif you would explain exactly what you mean by the Sumurun manner."Clovis obliged: "Weird music, and exotic skippings and flyingleaps, and lots of drapery and undrapery. Particularlyundrapery.""I think I told you the County are coming. The County won't standanything very Greek.""You can get over any objection by calling it Hygiene, or limb-culture, or something of that sort. After all, every one exposestheir insides to the public gaze and sympathy nowadays, so why notone's outside?""My dear boy, I can ask the County to a Greek play, or to acostume play, but to a Greek-costume play, never. It doesn't doto let the dramatic instinct carry one too far; one must considerone's environment. When one lives among greyhounds one shouldavoid giving life-like imitations of a rabbit, unless one want'sone's head snapped off. Remember, I've got this place on a sevenyears' lease. And then," continued the Baroness, "as to skippingsand flying leaps; I must ask Emily Dushford to take a part. She'sa dear good thing, and will do anything she's told, or try to; butcan you imagine her doing a flying leap under any circumstances?""She can be Cassandra, and she need only take flying leaps intothe future, in a metaphorical sense.""Cassandra; rather a pretty name. What kind of character is she?""She was a sort of advance-agent for calamities. To know her wasto know the worst. Fortunately for the gaiety of the age shelived in, no one took her very seriously. Still, it must havebeen fairly galling to have her turning up after every catastrophewith a conscious air of 'perhaps another time you'll believe whatI say.'""I should have wanted to kill her.""As Clytemnestra I believe you gratify that very natural wish.""Then it has a happy ending, in spite of it being a tragedy?""Well, hardly," said Clovis; "you see, the satisfaction of puttinga violent end to Cassandra must have been considerably damped bythe fact that she had foretold what was going to happen to her.She probably dies with an intensely irritating 'what-did-I-tell-you' smile on her lips. By the way, of course all the killingwill be done in the Sumurun manner.""Please explain again," said the Baroness, taking out a notebookand pencil."Little and often, you know, instead of one sweeping blow. Yousee, you are at your own home, so there's no need to hurry overthe murdering as though it were some disagreeable but necessaryduty.""And what sort of end do I have? I mean, what curtain do I get?""I suppose you rush into your lover's arms. That is where one ofthe flying leaps will come in."The getting-up and rehearsing of the play seemed likely to cause,in a restricted area, nearly as much heart-burning and ill-feelingas the election petition. Clovis, as adapter and stage-manager,insisted, as far as he was able, on the charioteer being quite themost prominent character in the play, and his panther-skin tuniccaused almost as much trouble and discussion as Clytemnestra'sspasmodic succession of lovers, who broke down on probation withalarming uniformity. When the cast was at length fixed beyondhope of reprieve matters went scarcely more smoothly. Clovis andthe Baroness rather overdid the Sumurun manner, while the rest ofthe company could hardly be said to attempt it at all. As forCassandra, who was expected to improvise her own prophecies, sheappeared to be as incapable of taking flying leaps into futurityas of executing more than a severely plantigrade walk across thestage."Woe! Trojans, woe to Troy!" was the most inspired remark shecould produce after several hours of conscientious study of allthe available authorities."It's no earthly use foretelling the fall of Troy," expostulatedClovis, "because Troy has fallen before the action of the playbegins. And you mustn't say too much about your own impendingdoom either, because that will give things away too much to theaudience."After several minutes of painful brain-searching, Cassandra smiledreassuringly."I know. I'll predict a long and happy reign for George theFifth.""My dear girl," protested Clovis, "have you reflected thatCassandra specialized in foretelling calamities?"There was another prolonged pause and another triumphant issue."I know. I'll foretell a most disastrous season for thefoxhounds.""On no account," entreated Clovis; "do remember that allCassandra's predictions came true. The M.F.H. and the HuntSecretary are both awfully superstitious, and they are both goingto be present."Cassandra retreated hastily to her bedroom to, bathe her eyesbefore appearing at tea.The Baroness and Clovis were by this time scarcely on speakingterms. Each sincerely wished their respective rle to be thepivot round which the entire production should revolve, and eachlost no opportunity for furthering the cause they had at heart.As fast as Clovis introduced some effective bit of business forthe charioteer (and he introduced a great many), the Baronesswould remorselessly cut it out, or more often dovetail it into herown part, while Clovis retaliated in a similar fashion wheneverpossible. The climax came when Clytemnestra annexed some highlycomplimentary lines, which were to have been addressed to thecharioteer by a bevy of admiring Greek damsels, and put them intothe mouth of her lover. Clovis stood by in apparent unconcernwhile the words:"Oh, lovely stripling, radiant as the dawn," were transposed into:"Oh, Clytemnestra, radiant as the dawn," but there was a dangerousglitter in his eye that might have given the Baroness warning. Hehad composed the verse himself, inspired and thoroughly carriedaway by his subject; he suffered, therefore, a double pang inbeholding his tribute deflected from its destined object, and hiswords mutilated and twisted into what became an extravagantpanegyric on the Baroness's personal charms. It was from thismoment that he became gentle and assiduous in his private coachingof Cassandra.The County, forgetting its dissensions, mustered in full strengthto witness the much-talked-of production. The protectiveProvidence that looks after little children and amateurtheatricals made good its traditional promise that everythingshould be right on the night. The Baroness and Clovis seemed tohave sunk their mutual differences, and between them dominated thescene to the partial eclipse of all the other characters, who, forthe most part, seemed well content to remain in the shadow. EvenAgamemnon, with ten years of strenuous life around Troy standingto his credit, appeared to be an unobtrusive personality comparedwith his flamboyant charioteer. But the moment came for Cassandra(who had been excused from any very definite outpourings duringrehearsals) to support her rle by delivering herself of a fewwell-chosen anticipations of pending misfortune. The musiciansobliged with appropriately lugubrious wailings and thumpings, andthe Baroness seized the opportunity to make a dash to thedressing-room to effect certain repairs in her make-up.Cassandra, nervous but resolute, came down to the footlights and,like one repeating a carefully learned lesson, flung her remarksstraight at the audience:"I see woe for this fair country if the brood of corrupt, self-seeking, unscrupulous, unprincipled politicians " (here she namedone of the two rival parties in the State) "continue to infest andpoison our local councils and undermine our Parliamentaryrepresentation; if they continue to snatch votes by nefarious anddiscreditable means--"A humming as of a great hive of bewildered and affronted beesdrowned her further remarks and wore down the droning of themusicians. The Baroness, who should have been greeted on herreturn to the stage with the pleasing invocation, "Oh,Clytemnestra, radiant as the dawn," heard instead the imperiousvoice of Lady Thistledale ordering her carriage, and somethinglike a storm of open discord going on at the back of the room.. . . . . . . . .The social divisions in the County healed themselves after theirown fashion; both parties found common ground in condemning theBaroness's outrageously bad taste and tactlessness.She has been fortunate in sub-letting for the greater part of herseven years' lease.