A POLITICAL CONFERENCE.
Scene—The interior of a classic Country Villa. Present—An aged, illustrious, but retired, Statesman and Leader, engaged now in thrumming a lyre. To him enter his youthful successor, with certain scrolls.
Senex (eagerly). My dear Primula! So glad you have come! The very man I wished to see. Be seated.
Juvenis (depositing scrolls). A thousand thanks. Delighted to see you looking so well, my dear Gladstonius.
Senex (cheerily). Never better, thank the gods!—and the ocularius!
[Twangles nimbly.
Juvenis. Ah! Cincinnatus, in retirement, pleased himself with the plough; your recreation was wont to be the axe or the banjo; now I perceive it is the—harp!
Senex (sharply). Not at all, Primula, not at all. This is not a harp!
[Plays and sings.
Poscimur. Si quid vacui sub umbra
Lusimus tecum, quod et hunc in annum
Vivat et plures, age, dic Latinum,
Barbite, carmen.
O decus Phœbi et dapibus supremi
Grata testudo Jovis, O laborum
Dulce lenimen mihi cunque salve
Rite vocanti.
Juvenis (astounded). Charming, I'm sure!
Senex (beaming). Think so? I fear you flatter.
Juvenis. Not at all. You may say, with your new favourite—
"Quod si me lyricis vatibus inseres,
Sublimi feriam sidera vertice."
Senex (modestly). Very pretty! But I fear the ever-youthful Muses may disdain an Old Man's belated wooing.
Juvenis (slily). Even a Grand Old Man's?
Senex (shuddering). Nay, no more of that, an' you love me. By the way, I wanted to consult you on a little musical matter.
Juvenis (dubiously). Ah! Concerning yon Hibernian Harp, I presume?
Senex (impatiently). Dear me, no! The Hibernian Harp be—jangled. As, indeed, it is, and unstrung into the bargain.
Juvenis (relieved). Why, have you then, like the other Minstrel Boy, "torn its chords asunder"?
Senex. Well, no, not that exactly. I fear its native thrummers will spare others that trouble. But—ahem!—it is the Horatian Lyre that interests me at present.
Juvenis. I see:—
"Quem virum aut heroa lyra vel acri
Tibia sumis celebrare, Clio?
Quem deum? Cujus recinet jocosa Nomen imago,
Aut in umbrosis Heliconis oris
Aut super Pindo gelidove in Hæmo?"
Senex (musingly). Hum! I have not yet tried the Tibia—the shrill pipe—but I may.
Juvenis. Doubtless; and you are quite equal to it.
Senex (drily). Thanks! But I've no wish, my dear Primula, "to play the rôle of elderly Narcissus." At present my part is only that of Echo—to the Venusian's vibrant voice.
[Muses.
Juvenis (taking advantage of the opportunity). Well, my dear Gladstonius, there are one or two little matters upon which I want to take your opinion. For example, Cæcilius——
Senex (quickly). "Cæcilius, who provoked the populace to such a degree, that Cicero could hardly restrain them from doing him violence." Do you want me to play the part of Cicero?
Juvenis (taken aback). Well—ahem!—hardly that, perhaps. But——
Senex (interrupting him). My dear Primula, as I have already said in response to an appeal from a friend of the modern Orbilius (not like Horace's pedagogue, "Plagosus," though), "After a contentious life of fifty-two years, I am naturally anxious to spend the remainder of my days in freedom from controversy."
Juvenis. Oh! Quite so—of course. But ahem!—the people are a little pressing——
Senex. Eh? To hurtful measures? What says Augustus's "pleasant mannikin" again, à propos?
[Thrums.
Justum et tenacem propositi virum
Non civium ardor prava jubentium,
Non vultus instantis tyranni,
Mente quatit solida neque Auster,
Dux inquieti turbidus Hadriae,
Nec fulminantis magna manus Jovis
Si fractus illabitur orbis,
Impavidum ferient ruinæ.
Juvenis. Doubtless. One such as yourself, "retired from business," like your beloved Horace on his Sabine farm.
"Ille potens sui
Lætusque deget, cui licet in diem
Dixisse Vixi;"
But of me it cannot—yet—be said—
"He, master of himself, in mirth may live
Who saith, 'I rest well pleased with former days.'"
Senex. Hah! Sir John Beaumont's version. Not so bad, but might be improved, I think. By the way, why should not you and I do the "Satires"—together?
Juvenis. Charmed, I am sure. Just now, however, I fear I'm a little too busy.
Senex. Pooh! Only occupies one's odd moments, and is as easy as shaving, or shaping a new Constitution. For example, I'll give you an impromptu version—call it adaptation if you like—of the first "Ad Mæcenatem":
"Mæcenas atavis edite regibus."
Juvenis. Oh! thanks, so much! Only——
Senex. It won't take ten minutes. Listen!
[Tunes up and sings.
Ad Roseberiam.
Primula, from old Scotia sprung!
My chos'n successor, though so young!
"You, 'midst Olympian dust delight
To whirl the chariot's rapid flight.
I'll watch your glowing axles roll
Nicely around the close-grazed goal.
You hold the palm of wondrous worth
Which late I wore upon the earth:
The Commons, now, sole crown desire,
And to un-veto'd power aspire.
You'll have enough to rule the deep
And Gaul placate, and Libya keep.
I'm now a swain who loves his toil,
To tune his pipe, and tend his soil.
Not Asia's wealth tempts me to sail
O'er faction's deep, and brave the gale.
Some say, though now, in love with ease,
I shun the storms of party seas;
That soon I'll summon the old crew,
And rig our shattered bark anew.
Too much I love this ancient wine,
Pressed from the old Venusian's vine!
Lo my free limbs at leisure laid!
The old instruments that once I played,
The harp, the banjo, hung aloft!
Hibernian airs, though sweet and soft,
And Ethiopian minstrelsy,
No longer have much charm for me.
Now I prefer the Lydian lyre,
And of bland Horace never tire.
You youngsters like a martial life—
The trumpet-challenge and the strife;
With ardour seek the tented plain.
Your "gauntlet's down"! Good may you gain!
For me, another line I choose,
And, late in life, I court the Muse,
Unmindful of Bellona's charms,
And the old stir of War's alarm.
Ah! once in full tilt I had borne
Against Cæcilius full of scorn;
But Music now seems more divine!
With ivy-wreaths my temples shine.
Far from the world's tumultuous throng,
The nymphs seduce me with their song;
Here in cool grove I'm going to dwell.
Like Horace, with "the sounding shell."
I feel a wish—sweet leisure's fruit—
To tootle on Euterpe's lute;
With Polyhymnia I desire
To twangle on the Lesbian lyre.
If, late, to lyric fame I rise,
My brow indeed shall strike the skies."
There! What think you of that—for an impromptu?
Juvenis (rousing himself). Oh, excellent—most excellent! How do you do it? And now, my dear Gladstonius, with your kind permission, we will go——
Senex (promptly). To dinner! Exactly, my dear Primula.
Nunc is bibendum, nunc pede libero
Pulsanda tellus, nunc Saliaribus,
Ornare pulvinar deorum
Tempus erat, dapibus, sodales.
Come along, my boy!!!
[Skips away, followed slowly by his guest.
A POLITICAL CONFERENCE.
"Gladstonius parvam rem Horatianam compositionis suoe ad Roseberium recitans."
A GOOD GUESS.
First 'Arry (who has been reading City Article). "I say, what's 'Brighton A's' mean?"
Second 'Arry (of a Sporting turn). "'Brighton 'Arriers,' I s'pose."
WONDERFUL WHAT AN ADJECTIVE WILL DO.
Brown (newly married—to Jones, whom he entertained a few evenings previously). "Well, what did you think of us, old Boy, eh?"
Jones. "Oh, pretty Flat. Er—awfully pretty Flat!"