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list handcd her ceremoniously by SATAN). All these (dubbing his skeleton finger on to it) have still to come, confound them all for an idle, vapouring, bloodless, fiddle-faddling lot! Mankind has coddled its Passions up of late years, or fed them on humanitarian water-gruel, till you can’t recognize the anaemic wretches!
SATAN. Oh, that’s quite easily mended, once the performance is in full swing, dear Ballet Master Death! then it’s brandy for heroes, eh ? Come, I will help you call them. (Knocks loudly and repeatedly at the door to the right.) Hullo, you there! Are you deaf or asleep ?
THE MUsE (rising from a packing case on to which SATAN had politely bid her be seated, and where she has been conning the list of performers, and following SATAN). Forgive my indiscretion. I want my notes to be as full as possible. Who is it you are calling, my Lord ?
SATAN. Self-Interest, a most industrious fellow, but unluckily not much addicted to such artistic pleasures as our shows. It
is he who, on week days, plays unremittingly the ground bass of Life.
SATAN knocks still more loudly.
SELF-INTEREsT (heard from within). This is a half-holiday. Call to~morrow. I’m a Trade Unionist and can’t break the rules. I must have my sleep out. Let me see : What was I dreaming about i’ Yes, to be sure (drowsily) the Coming Reconstruction of So-ci-e-ty on a more—a more-rational _ , _
DEATH (shaking his skeleton fist at the house of SELF-I NTEREsT). Confound your insolence! Is that a way to answer Satan and Death 5’ But Self-Interest was always a dull dog; not a spark of divine fire to be struck out of him! Your Lordship need not have wasted your time and mine in calling on such a gross modern materialist.
SATAN. May I point out that you skeletons are just a trifle testy ? Don’t you see, excellent but shortsighted Ballet Master Death, that knocking at Self-Interest’s door has brought Fear, that over-retiring slut, to her window? Hi! Widow Fear! It’s only a couple of old friends inviting you to a little entertainment.
THE MUsE (writing on her tablets, while what she is describing is seen happening by the spectator). So, Fear, squalid beyond all other Passions, came down, hesitating just a little, because she had heard Self-Interest refuse the invitation. But she was speedily dragged along by her shabby, restless twins, Suspicion and Panic; and the family carried penny whistles and fog-horns and a cracked storm-and-massacre bell, genuine medizeval, but wrapped in yesterday’s Daily Mail and Globe.
SATAN (to the MUsE). Rather an unpresentable lot, though first-rate performers. I hope we have something really handsome, a few genuine Virtues, to make up for them, since the Nations have grown detestably superfine of late, and some of the other indispensable members of our Orchestra aren’t very attractive either. Ah! the very thing! (Goes forward to meet two new-comers.) I am enchanted that you deign to join our amateur band, small but very choice and famous under the name of Patriotism, my dear Lady Idealism and my brilliant young Prince Adventure. (He rustles his wings in cerernonious salutation to the new-comers.)
THE MUsE (writes after looking round). And Idealism and Adventure, bride and bridegroom, having come out of their palace of cloud and sunbeams and rainbow, went up into the theatre. Very magnificent they were, and of noblest bearing, if a little over-dressed. Idealism carried a silver trumpet and Adventure a woodland horn. (SIN and her crew slink in.) There came also Death’s mother (or wife, for their family relations are primitive and best not inquired into), Sin, whom the all-knowing Gods call Disease; nor was there any need of calling her. With her came her well-known crew,
Rapine, Lust, Murder, and Torture, fitted out with bullroarers and rattles and other cannibalish instruments.
MUsE (looks up and then writes). Pretending not to be acquainted,but nevertheless hurrying together out of the tavern of Vanity, and trundling between them a huge double-bass and a small harmonium, on which, as soon as they had unpacked, SelfRighteousness most obligingly offered to give Hatred his right pitch. Hatred, the stupidest of all Passions, yet the most cunning in deceits, brought with him a double-bass of many strings: shrill and plaintive gut, rasping steel and growling bronze, and more besides ; some strangely comforting in their tone like a rich cordial, although they heartened men to massacre each other.
DEATH (in a hurry). That’ll do to begin with; and there are a lot of the Orchestra, both virtuous and vicious Passions, already within. Heroism will join as soon as we have begun, and he can be dumped anywhere. See! here troop the Dancers for a few words of encouragement from your Lordship. By the way, you mustn’t mind if they address you as Lord of Hosts; they are rather ignorant of everything except my especial dances.
SATAN. Oh, I have so many noms de guerre! my dear Ballet Master.
DEATH. Since some of you have your instruments handy, just strike up a bit, you, Widow Fear, and you, Madame Idealism; and you, Hatred, growl on the deep string, not too loud. Just a bar or two, no matter what, only to make the Nations look up and get over that tiresome mauvaise honte of theirs.
THE MUsE (writing). The Nations had meanwhile arrived
by twos and twos on the top step of the theatre, each brilliant
and tidyin its ballet dress, which was far better cut and of handsomer stuff, of course, than its everyday broadcloth or rags. And Idealism and Adventure, Hatred and Self-Righteousness, all fell to tuning, for unlike some other members of the Orchestra they were sticklers for correctness.
Enter ScIENcE and ORoANIzATIoN.
THE MUsE (not writing, but speaking as she looks round). Whom have we here ? I have never seen either of these before in all the centuries of my regular attendance at Death’s Ballets. All other Human Passions are correctly dressed in allegoric fashion, classical, or mediaeval, or biblical. But one of these two new-comers, might, for all I see, be a clerk in a public office ; and as to the lady, if one may call her such, she seems to be wearing a laboratory smock, let alone spectacles ; uncompromisingly literal and modern.
DEATH (jumping down three steps with a clatter, and flying at the new-comers). Get out with you! Kick them out ! Kick out the new-fangled intruders who want to spoil our fun! Knock them down! Trample on them! Don’t you see they are aliens ? Spies ? Spies in the service of Life and Progress ?
SATAN (with an archangelic gesture which paralyses the uplifted skeleton arm of Death). Hush, hush! Which is Master here, I wonder ? Will you never learn manners, you senseless old relic of the Stone Age, with your rabble of instruments fit for an ethnological museum? (Turns to the newcomers.) Excuse his country manners, dear Madame Science and dear Councillor Organization. You know the ways of skeletons ; their skulls are inevitably empty.
THE MUsE (writing). The two new-comers carried newfangled instruments, and fell to unpacking them ; Science, a handy gramophone; and Organization a miniature pianola with its various rollers.
SCIENcE. Do not mention it, my Lord. Qui sait comprendre
sait tout pardonner, so it is part of my professional duty to find excuses for your Ballet Master’s very interesting primitiveness.
ORGANIZATION. It’s all as it should be. And of course there’s no denying that Science and I are permanently on the staff of Life and Progress ; but that firm is working slack at present ; so we feel at liberty to take a brief temporary engagement elsewhere.
THE MUsE (writing). Satan extended both hands in welcome, and Science snatched the opportunity of hurriedly verifying whether or not they were furnished with claws.
SATAN (low to SCIENcE and ORGANIZATION). Nothing could be more conducive to the success of our Ballet, and I only hope our collaboration may grow permanent. You see, Death is getting a bit old for his job and dreadfully prejudiced. Besides I fear it can’t be denied that both of you have done one or two things calculated to rub him the wrong way; and then everything is so dreadfully exaggerated by the daily press! Come here, you peppery old Ballet Master and salute the lady and gentleman prettily. (Places one hand above DEATH’s head, and playfully twitches his arms and legs like a marionette on a string fort/1e amusementof SCIENCE and ORGANIZATION.) That’s right! Now shake hands with this illustrious couple, who will keep up our Ballet with their wonderful mechanical instruments when the rest of our classic band have neither strings nor wind left. And now you had better so far unbend as to tell me how you intend the members of your Orchestra to sit once we are all in the theatre; and also give a few last instructions to all our excellent and obliging performers. Is all the Orchestra here? Let me see the list of them. Dear Clio, this is work for you, like Homer’s catalogue of ships. Please read out the list of the Passions constituting the famous Orchestra called
THE MUsE (reading the list. As she (all; eac/t name, its owner makes obeisance to SATA'‘'\. Greed, Loyalty, Chivalry,