UNDER EASTERN SKIES

(A Romantic Drama suitable for performance at His Majesty’s Theatre.)

First Scene.—A street in Damascus, copied, with meticulous exactitude, from the Byway of Beggars in that famous city. Even the smells are there—thanks to an ingenious contrivance of concealed sprays, by means of which the appropriate odour is insinuated into the nostrils of the audience.A party of camels, an elephant and a couple of giraffes, are loitering about in the charge of officials from the Zoological Gardens disguised as Bedouin Sheiks.Ali Baba,Sinbad the Sailor,Shibli Bagarag,and other familiar Eastern figures are exchanging hoarse Oriental salutations from their houses and shops. Goats, sheep, goatwomen, shepherds, etc., complete the picture.

—A street in Damascus, copied, with meticulous exactitude, from the Byway of Beggars in that famous city. Even the smells are there—thanks to an ingenious contrivance of concealed sprays, by means of which the appropriate odour is insinuated into the nostrils of the audience.

A party of camels, an elephant and a couple of giraffes, are loitering about in the charge of officials from the Zoological Gardens disguised as Bedouin Sheiks.Ali Baba,Sinbad the Sailor,Shibli Bagarag,and other familiar Eastern figures are exchanging hoarse Oriental salutations from their houses and shops. Goats, sheep, goatwomen, shepherds, etc., complete the picture.

Ali Baba(in a wailing shriek): Inshallah, wullahy, eywallah.

Shibli Bagarag(lamenting): Eywah! Traadisveribadahii! (He beats his breast).

A Passer-by(indignantly addressing a stolid camel-driver): Bismillah, O Son of my Uncle, have thy camels, on whom be peace, acquired afirmaninvesting in them the sole use of this highway?

The Outraged Camel-driver(forgetting his part and falling back on the language of Regent’s Park): ’Ere. Look ’ere——

Another Passer-by(hastily interrupting, and turning upon the first with contumely): Hence, brother of a baboon. Mock not dumb beasts, as it is written.

A Goat: M-a-a-a-a.

A Goatwoman: Aie, little one, muzzle thy tongue ... (resuming her conversation). In sooth, O my father, as thou dost say——

The Goat(rebelliously): M-a-a-a-a-a.

The Goatwoman: Arree, be silent, child of misfortune, or thou shalt see the inside of a stewpan. (The goat thinks better of it.)

The Hajji Oskarashi Ben Daoud Ben Ismail(a holy and very dirty man of enormous size, sinister appearance and awe-inspiring voice, appearing from a hovel): Alms. Alms for the love of Allah. (People give him money. He takes it nonchalantly and without thanks.) Alms in the name of the Compassionate. (He moves majestically on, until he meets a disreputable-looking being who has just emerged from a side street. Aside to this apparition.) Is all arranged?

His Confederate(in a low tone): Ya, holy one. (At the top of his voice in order to deceiveeveryone except the audience.) Nay, I have nothing for thee, thou evil-smelling and consummate old humbug.

Oskarashi(whining): Deny not of thy plenty, O gracious benefactor, as it is written. (Aside) What is the signal?

His Confederate(giving money with bad grace): Veialeikum a-salaam, O holy one. (Aside) Three raps on the outer postern gate: and then——

Oskarashi(showing his teeth in a terrible smile): And then—blood and much booty (passing on). Alms in the name of Allah.

The Goat(unable to contain itself): M-a-a-a-a-a!

The Camels and Giraffes: M-o-o-o-o-o!

The Elephant—But no, we cannot describe the cry of the elephant.

A Muezzin(appearing on his minaret): La Allah il Allah (a bell tolls. The faithful prostrate themselves towards the East).

Second Scene.—Bagdad. The harem of Oskarashi ben Daoud, etc. We deduce either that alms-seeking in the East is a highly lucrative profession, or else that the “much booty,” referred to in the first scene, proved even more abundant than was expected. The harem is an enormous apartment, about the size of the Albert Hall, with a swimming pool fed by agolden fountain in the centre, and rows of marble colonnades receding in all directions into an apparently illimitable distance. A vast concourse of beautiful and, despite their biscuit-coloured complexions, unmistakably European young women, languish on cushions of every variety of texture and colouring.A pair of acrobats, a jazz band of strange instruments, and some kind of Oriental glee party are giving a simultaneous performance. Some withered crones with birches are chastising certain recalcitrant wives in a corner. Our friends the camels, giraffes and elephants have been replaced by a party of leopards, duck-billed platypuses, anthropoid apes, okapis and tapirs.Oskarashihimself, comatose after an enormous Eastern supper, is keeping awake with difficulty, propped up against a mound of cushions piled on a huge divan. Entwined around him, serpent-wise, is Zobeide el Okra, the Bulbul of the harem.

—Bagdad. The harem of Oskarashi ben Daoud, etc. We deduce either that alms-seeking in the East is a highly lucrative profession, or else that the “much booty,” referred to in the first scene, proved even more abundant than was expected. The harem is an enormous apartment, about the size of the Albert Hall, with a swimming pool fed by agolden fountain in the centre, and rows of marble colonnades receding in all directions into an apparently illimitable distance. A vast concourse of beautiful and, despite their biscuit-coloured complexions, unmistakably European young women, languish on cushions of every variety of texture and colouring.

A pair of acrobats, a jazz band of strange instruments, and some kind of Oriental glee party are giving a simultaneous performance. Some withered crones with birches are chastising certain recalcitrant wives in a corner. Our friends the camels, giraffes and elephants have been replaced by a party of leopards, duck-billed platypuses, anthropoid apes, okapis and tapirs.Oskarashihimself, comatose after an enormous Eastern supper, is keeping awake with difficulty, propped up against a mound of cushions piled on a huge divan. Entwined around him, serpent-wise, is Zobeide el Okra, the Bulbul of the harem.

The Glee Party(bursting into the well-known Eastern ditty):

We sit and gobble with chopsticks and spoonFrom the midnight hour to the stroke of noon,Gobble at work and——

We sit and gobble with chopsticks and spoon

From the midnight hour to the stroke of noon,

Gobble at work and——

Oskarashi: Enough. Let them be dispatched. (Black slaves hurl them into the Tigris, which obligingly flows near by.) Let the feastproceed. (An obsequious conjurer appears; nobody, however, pays any attention, except the junior members of the audience, who are properly fascinated.)

One of the Acrobats(drawing aside his disguise and revealing himself as the terribleAswarak—whom we forgot to mention in Scene I, but who plays an important part in the proceedings. He addresses one of the attendants, who draws aside his disguise and reveals the features of the dreadedBoo Boo): All is ready?

Boo Boo(grimly): Ya Aswarak. Allah hath favoured us. Every door is stopped and the black guards have received their price.

Aswarak: It is well.... Remember she is to be mine.

Boo Boo: Whom—I mean who?

Aswarak(rapturously): The Bulbul of the night, the reward of the favoured of Islam.

Boo Boo: Have a care, Holy One, we may be overheard.

Aswarak: And the signal?

Boo Boo: Thy song. (The conjurer concludes his entertainment.)

Aswarak: I will now sing.

Everyone: Oh, Allah, must this be?

Oskarashi(grimly): Let him sing. Guards be at hand to do my bidding.

Aswarak(aside): Thy last bidding in this world,O corpulent Father of Obscenity. (Aloud) As thou sayest, O Protector of the Poor. (He takes his lute and sings, gazing ardently—almost too ardently—at Zobeide):

Ah, when the sunGives up the ghost;And lovers run,With ardent boast,To woo the oneEach fancies most—The stars ariseBehind thine eyesO Bulbul.

Ah, when the sunGives up the ghost;And lovers run,With ardent boast,

Ah, when the sun

Gives up the ghost;

And lovers run,

With ardent boast,

To woo the oneEach fancies most—The stars ariseBehind thine eyesO Bulbul.

To woo the one

Each fancies most—

The stars arise

Behind thine eyes

O Bulbul.

All:

O Bul-bul-bul.

Aswarak:

And I thy sighsApostrophizeO Bulbul.

And I thy sighs

Apostrophize

O Bulbul.

All:

O Bul-bul-bul—

Oskarashi(who has no intention of allowing this kind of thing to go on): Enough! Well sung, Minstrel. (Darkly) Thy reward?

Aswarak(throwing off his disguise): Thy head, Father of Abomination. (Tumult. He draws a sword and rushes at the divan. The wives scuttle wailing, pursued by the guards, who pour into the chamber. Everyone runs shouting after someone else.Oskarashistrikes hisassailants into a heap, and hurls himself roaring into the Tigris. The curtain falls upon a writhing mass of humanity.)

Third Scene.—The action has for some reason shifted to China—probably in order that Mr. Gloomy Bishop, the celebrated producer, may be enabled to show the London public what he is really capable of, when he cares to extend himself. The stage, therefore, is a blaze of red lacquer and Chinese Lanterns, supplemented by pagodas, palanquins and pigtails. A forbidding archway of crumbling masonry—flanked on either side by a barbaric figure armed with crossbow, javelin, long horsehair moustache and a hideous expression of brutality, indicates that the action is about to continue at the Gateway of the Lotus—a bypath in Old Pekin.Oskarashi,the Venerable Hajji, has lain here in honourable concealment ever since his escape in the Tigris. But ah! his hiding place has been discovered. This is made apparent by the highly suspicious conduct of two strolling passers-by, whose physical characteristics appear to correspond more or less accurately with those ofAswarakand the odiousBoo Boo.

—The action has for some reason shifted to China—probably in order that Mr. Gloomy Bishop, the celebrated producer, may be enabled to show the London public what he is really capable of, when he cares to extend himself. The stage, therefore, is a blaze of red lacquer and Chinese Lanterns, supplemented by pagodas, palanquins and pigtails. A forbidding archway of crumbling masonry—flanked on either side by a barbaric figure armed with crossbow, javelin, long horsehair moustache and a hideous expression of brutality, indicates that the action is about to continue at the Gateway of the Lotus—a bypath in Old Pekin.Oskarashi,the Venerable Hajji, has lain here in honourable concealment ever since his escape in the Tigris. But ah! his hiding place has been discovered. This is made apparent by the highly suspicious conduct of two strolling passers-by, whose physical characteristics appear to correspond more or less accurately with those ofAswarakand the odiousBoo Boo.

First Stroller(accosting the other with all the honeyed courtesy of the Celestial Empire): Honourable Dweller in a foreign land, deignto accept of my accursed superfluity. (Gives money and continues in an undertone) The detested of Islam has been discovered.

Second Stroller(performing the ceremonies, observances and obeisances prescribed in the canons of Celestial etiquette): May the shadow of this undeserving one diminish and disappear, if he should unworthily be found wanting in gratitude to your honourable and beatific and excellent self. (Pouches the coins and continues also in an undertone) Where, O Father of Procrastination?

First Stroller: As Confucius justly remarks, charity—(dropping his voice). In a certain hovel in the back street beyond the wall, he conceals himself, plying the disreputable calling—may his porkers perish—of a seller of swine’s flesh—the curse of the prophet’s beard be upon him. Everything is arranged. To-night we surround the house: rush in at the appointed hour: and nail him to the counter in the midst of his abominable merchandise. Bismillah.

Second Stroller(fiercely): Inshallah! (Louder) The honourable greeting of your illustrious Excellency has brought sunshine and hope into the miserable existence of this one.

First Stroller: Your honourable praise is sweeter in the ears of this obsequiousrubbish-heap, than the music of the Celestial stars. Peace be with you.

They depart. A bundle of rags and blankets in a neighbouring corner suddenly comes to life, and reveals the familiar lineaments of Oskarashi, as he slinks away, like an enormous anthropoid ape, to his hovel in the back street beyond the wall.

Fourth Scene.—We now find ourselves at night in an even more ancient and dilapidated part of the city—the neighbourhood of the hovel in the back street, beyond the wall. A number of American tourists, shepherded by an unsightly and bespectacled Baboo from the local Cook’s office, are making a tour of these rather unsavoury precincts, before embarking to join the P. and O. steamer at Hong Kong. Lurking in the background areAswarak,Boo Boo and Co., with an arsenal of weapons, closing in upon their enemy.

—We now find ourselves at night in an even more ancient and dilapidated part of the city—the neighbourhood of the hovel in the back street, beyond the wall. A number of American tourists, shepherded by an unsightly and bespectacled Baboo from the local Cook’s office, are making a tour of these rather unsavoury precincts, before embarking to join the P. and O. steamer at Hong Kong. Lurking in the background areAswarak,Boo Boo and Co., with an arsenal of weapons, closing in upon their enemy.

The Baboo(addressing his audience collectively): And—here—we—have—a—typical—example—of—the—ar—chitecture—of old—Pekin—dating—to—a—time—co—eval—with—Ginghis Khan—in—my—country.

A Tourist: My, Sally. Look at here! (To the guide) Say, cutey, what you callum this?(She points to a procession forming up among the houses.)

The Baboo: This—is—a very—fortunate—circumstance. Ladies—and—gentlemen—we—are—about—to—witness—a—Manchu—funeral.

Another Tourist: Some guy pegged out, I guess.

The Baboo: We must—withdraw—to—one—side. (They do so.)

Aswarak(orBoo Boo): A thousand curses. We must delay the assault until this pig of an unbeliever has been taken away. (They confer.)

The procession advances, headed by the Mourners, who are singing a terrible wailing melody. As they approach the words become audible.

The Mourners(dolefully):

Honourable mandarin gone west,Welly sick belly and pain in chest,Silly fellow leave off winter vest,No can facee breeze.First catchee chicken-pox, then get croup,Double pneumonia, and off he poop:Chop-suey, Laichee, Birds-nest-soup,That’s good stage Chinese.

Honourable mandarin gone west,

Welly sick belly and pain in chest,

Silly fellow leave off winter vest,

No can facee breeze.

First catchee chicken-pox, then get croup,

Double pneumonia, and off he poop:

Chop-suey, Laichee, Birds-nest-soup,

That’s good stage Chinese.

(They go out with their melancholy burden.)

The Baboo: We—will—now—return—in time—for—the—especial—dance—for—ladies—and gentlemen—at—the—Nautical—Club. (He takes his tribe away.)

(The stage darkens.Aswarak and Co.begin to emerge stealthily from their hiding place. Red limelight illumines the stage. Weird music. They rush into the hovel. Reappear raving like Bedlamites.Oskarashihas escaped. They realise that he was in the coffin of the Manchu funeral. In the thick of the hubbub, the voices of the returning mourners are heard.)

The Mourners(returning):

Chinky Chinky Chip Chip Choop,And any damn rot you please,Chop-suey, Laichee, Birds-nest-soupWelly good stage Chinese.

Chinky Chinky Chip Chip Choop,

And any damn rot you please,

Chop-suey, Laichee, Birds-nest-soup

Welly good stage Chinese.

Aswarak(foaming at the mouth): Halt, evil-tongued progeny of obscene mothers!

The Mourners(tearing off their disguises): What? Offal-eating scum of the bazaar! (They fall on each other. The curtain falls on the familiar spectacle of writhing humanity.)

The last scene we are not sure about. It depends largely on the temperamental judgment of Mr. Gloomy Bishop. It was originally planned to be the courtyard of the Dalai Lamasery ofThibet. Mr. Bishop, however, leans in favour of a Patagonian village or alternatively a street scene in Tristan d’Acunha. He thinks the latter might enable him to introduce a talking penguin as a counterweight to Mr. Charles Cochran’s singing duck. And he is not absolutely certain that he wouldn’t like a Honolulu surf scene, or perhaps a salt mining camp on the Gulf of Carpentaria. Mr. Bishop is not sure; and he must have time to think it over.

Things, therefore, are held up until the producer and author can come to an agreement. But on one thing the author is adamant. Oskarashi has got to come to a sticky end. The author absolutely refuses to allow the fellow to be perpetuated in another play.

Back to Index Next