The Peace Offering

by H.H. Munro (SAKI)

　　

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"I want you to help me in getting up a dramatic entertainment of some sort,"said the Baroness to Clovis. "You see, there's been an election petition downhere, and a member unseated and no end of bitterness and ill-feeling, and theCounty is socially divided against itself. I thought a play of some kind wouldbe an excellent opportunity for bringing people together again, and giving themsomething to think of besides tiresome political squabbles."The Baroness was evidently ambitious of reproducing beneath her own roof thepacifying effects traditionally ascribed to the celebrated Reel of Tullochgorum."We might do something on the lines of Greek tragedy," said Clovis, after duereflection; "the Return of Agamemnon, for instance."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 homecoming.""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 the part ofCharlotte Corday?""That's a different story and a different century," said Clovis; "the dramaticunities forbid one to lay a scene in more than one century at a time. Thekilling in this case has to be done by Clytemnestra.""Rather a pretty name. I'll do that part. I suppose you want to be Aga-whateverhis name is?""Dear no. Agamemnon was the father of grown-up children, and probably wore abeard and looked prematurely aged. I shall be his charioteer or bath-attendant,or something decorative of that kind. We must do everything in the Sumurunmanner, you know.""I don't know," said the Baroness; "at least, I should know better if you wouldexplain exactly what you mean by the Sumurun manner."Clovis obliged: "Weird music, and exotic skippings and flying leaps, and lots ofdrapery and undrapery. Particularly undrapery.""I think I told you the County are coming. The County won't stand anything veryGreek.""You can get over any objection by calling it Hygiene, or limb-culture, orsomething of that sort. After all, every one exposes their insides to the publicgaze and sympathy nowadays, so why not one's outside?""My dear boy, I can ask the County to a Greek play, or to a costume play, but toa Greek-costume play, never. It doesn't do to let the dramatic instinct carryone too far; one must consider one's environment. When one lives amonggreyhounds one should avoid giving life-like imitations of a rabbit, unless onewants one's head snapped off. Remember, I've got this place on a seven yearslease. And then," continued the Baroness, "as to skippings and flying leaps; Imust ask Emily Dushford to take a part. She's a dear good thing, and will doanything she's told, or try to; but can you imagine her doing a flying leapunder any circumstances?""She can be Cassandra, and she need only take flying leaps into the future, in ametaphorical sense.""Cassandra; rather a pretty name. What kind of character is she?""She was a sort of advance-agent for calamities. To know her was to know theworst. Fortunately for the gaiety of the age she lived in, no one took her veryseriously. Still, it must have been fairly galling to have her turning up afterevery catastrophe with a conscious air of 'perhaps another time you'll believewhat I 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 putting a violent endto Cassandra must have been considerably damped by the fact that she hadforetold what was going to happen to her. She probably dies with an intenselyirritating 'what-did-I-tell-you' smile on her lips. By the way, of course allthe killing will be done in the Sumurun manner.""Please explain again," said the Baroness, taking out a notebook and pencil."Little and often, you know, instead of one sweeping blow. You see, you are atyour own home, so there's no need to hurry over the murdering as though it weresome disagreeable but necessary duty.""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 of the flyingleaps will come in."The getting-up and rehearsing of the play seemed likely to cause, in arestricted area, nearly as much heart-burning and ill-feeling as the electionpetition. Clovis, as adapter and stage-manager, insisted, as far as he was able,on the charioteer being quite the most prominent character in the play, and hispanther-skin tunic caused almost as much trouble and discussion asClytemnestra's spasmodic succession of lovers, who broke down on probation withalarming uniformity. When the cast was at length fixed beyond hope of reprievematters went scarcely more smoothly. Clovis and the Baroness rather overdid theSumurun manner, while the rest of the company could hardly be said to attempt itat all. As for Cassandra, who was expected to improvise her own prophecies, sheappeared to be as incapable of taking flying leaps into futurity as of executingmore than a severely plantigrade walk across the stage."Woe! Trojans, woe to Troy!" was the most inspired remark she could produceafter several hours of conscientious study of all the available authorities."It's no earthly use foretelling the fall of Troy," expostulated Clovis,"because Troy has fallen before the action of the play begins. And you mustn'tsay too much about your own impending doom either, because that will give thingsaway too much to the audience."After several minutes of painful brain-searching, Cassandra smiled reassuringly."I know. I'll predict a long and happy reign for George the Fifth.""My dear girl," protested Clovis, "have you reflected that Cassandra specializedin foretelling calamities?"There was another prolonged pause and another triumphant issue."I know. I'll foretell a most disastrous season for the foxhounds.""On no account," entreated Clovis; "do remember that all Cassandra's predictionscame true. The M.F.H. and the Hunt Secretary are both awfully superstitious, andthey are both going to be present."Cassandra retreated hastily to her bedroom to bathe her eyes before appearing attea.The Baroness and Clovis were by this time scarcely on speaking terms. Eachsincerely wished their respective role to be the pivot round which the entireproduction should revolve, and each lost no opportunity for furthering the causethey had at heart. As fast as Clovis introduced some effective bit of businessfor the charioteer (and he introduced a great many), the Baroness wouldremorselessly cut it out, or more often dovetail it into her own part, whileClovis retaliated in a similar fashion whenever possible. The climax came whenClytemnestra annexed some highly complimentary lines, which were to have beenaddressed to the charioteer by a bevy of admiring Greek damsels, and put theminto the mouth of her lover. Clovis stood by in apparent unconcern while thewords:"Oh, lovely stripling, radiant as the dawn," were transposed into:"Oh, Clytemnestra, radiant as the dawn," but there was a dangerous glitter inhis eye that might have given the Baroness warning. He had composed the versehimself, inspired and thoroughly carried away by his subject; he suffered,therefore, a double pang in beholding his tribute deflected from its destinedobject, and his words mutilated and twisted into what became an extravagantpanegyric on the Baroness's personal charms. It was from this moment that hebecame gentle and assiduous in his private coaching of Cassandra.The County, forgetting its dissensions, mustered in full strength to witness themuch-talked-of production. The protective Providence that looks after littlechildren and amateur theatricals made good its traditional promise thateverything should be right on the night. The Baroness and Clovis seemed to havesunk their mutual differences, and between them dominated the scene to thepartial eclipse of all the other characters, who, for the most part, seemed wellcontent to remain in the shadow. Even Agamemnon, with ten years of strenuouslife around Troy standing to his credit, appeared to be an unobtrusivepersonality compared with his flamboyant charioteer. But the moment came forCassandra (who had been excused from any very definite outpourings duringrehearsals) to support her role by delivering herself of a few well-chosenanticipations of pending misfortune. The musicians obliged with appropriatelylugubrious wailings and thumpings, and the Baroness seized the opportunity tomake a dash to the dressing-room to effect certain repairs in her make-up.Cassandra nervous but resolute, came down to the footlights and, like onerepeating a carefully learned lesson, flung her remarks straight at theaudience:"I see woe for this fair country if the brood of corrupt, self-seeking,unscrupulous, unprincipled politicians" (here she named one of the two rivalparties in the State) "continue to infest and poison our local councils andundermine our Parliamentary representation; if they continue to snatch votes bynefarious and discreditable means--"A humming as of a great hive of bewildered and affronted bees drowned herfurther remarks and wore down the droning of the musicians. The Baroness, whoshould have been greeted on her return to the stage with the pleasinginvocation, "Oh, Clytemnestra, radiant as the dawn," heard instead the imperiousvoice of Lady Thistledale ordering her carriage, and something like a storm ofopen discord going on at the back of the room.The social divisions in the County healed themselves after their own fashion;both parties found common ground in condemning the Baroness's outrageously badtaste and tactlessness.She has been fortunate in sub-letting for the greater part of her seven years'lease.

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