For long enough, however, I had to wait my inspiration. I was kept so busy in the capacity of actor (from which my special talents would not permit me to retire as early as I should myself have wished) that it was comparatively late in life--I mean I had turned twelve--before the grand idea of writing a tragedy dawned in my ardent breast. Even then it was destined to simmer for three or four years, owing to pressure of other work and the still more pressing lack of a subject.

Meanwhile, however, I read tragedies ardently. I read Shakespeare, more or less, and admired him rather, although I could see his weak points, and thought him considerably overrated. I had also read the nursery rhymes carefully, and most of the harrowing stories of history and fiction, particularly the latter. I had, moreover, recently made a tragic acquaintance with the Greek Drama in the person of a scoundrel called Aeschylus, whose sickening lucubrations I was forced to learn by heart, and now and then to copy out, a hundred lines at a time, till I grew to detest him.

All these circ.u.mstances combined decided me to write a tragedy on my own account; which, while following Shakespeare in his good points, should avoid his weaknesses, which should embody the best features of the nursery rhymes, and which should avoid like poison the shockingly debased style of Aeschylus.

After mature reflection I hit upon a theme which I flattered myself was original and suggestive. Shakespeare had kept off it, and it was after Aeschylus' time; and as far as I knew I was the first to clothe it in a tragic garb. I refer to the story of Romulus and Remus. It was cla.s.sical, sanguinary, and sounded well on a t.i.tle-page. Besides, as very little was known about it, there was plenty of scope for original treatment, and no one could say whether I was wrong in my facts, because no one was in a position to contradict me. In addition to that, as the story related to boys and athletic sports (both of which subjects I knew something about), it seemed the very theme of a good tragedy, which might make my name immortal, and rank to all generations as an English cla.s.sic.

It might have, but somehow it didn't. However, I have kept the copy still, and this book shall be the fortunate medium of introducing the tragedy to the world.

In case any of my readers, as is possible, should be unacquainted with the story of Romulus and Remus, let me say that I believe (but am not quite sure) that they were two twin brothers, both boys, left orphans at an early age, and nursed by a stepmother in the shape of a wolf. They were subsequently discovered, and having grown to manhood, it occurred to Romulus to build Rome. For this modest undertaking Remus chaffed his brother, and practised the high jump over his walls, naturally damaging them considerably. Whereupon Romulus knocked him on the head, and lived happily ever afterwards.

This, briefly, is the story. Now for the tragedy:--

Romulus and Remus; Or, Catching Him On The Hop.

(The sub-t.i.tle was a concession to the democratic tastes of the present generation, who like to have their curiosity excited without being told too much.)

_Dramatis Persona_.

Men. Romulus (a boy). Remus (his brother). John (a shepherd).

Faustulus (a policeman).

Women. A Wolf. Mary Ann (a maiden of forty).

_Chorus, Soldiers, Sailors, Volunteers, Bricklayers, Boys, Maidens, and Lictors_.

_Act I_.

Scene I.--A Wood near Rome.

_Enter She-wolf with two boys in her mouth, John following_.

_John_. She-monster, tell me, what have you got there?

_Wolf_. Two kids, my John; and dinner-time is near.

_Rom. and Rem._ Oh my! alas! help! hi! Will no one hear?

_John (smacking his lips_). Say, gentle Lupus, where didst find them both?

_Wolf_. Listen! I'll tell you while you lay the cloth.

(_Sings_).

I'm a wolf, I'm a wolf, in this big lonely wood, And I live in a hole in a tree, And I daily prowl forth in my free, hungry mood To look for my dinner and tea.

I never object to the wing of a man, Or a tender young lamb gives me joy; But what I like best is a slice off the breast, Or the leg, or the arm, of a boy.

To-day I'm in luck, as you plainly may see By the morsels that kick in my maw; Fetch a knife, fork, and spoon, John, for you and for me.

Dinner's ready! Young boys taste best raw.

_Rom._ Oh, impious monster, hold thy howling jaw!

And you, John, to your flocks return once more.

Forbear to talk of eating me and Remus, You ugly, wicked, ill-conditioned schemers.

1. Here I should remark that to be strictly accurate my tragedy should be called a tragic opera. It abounds in songs calculated to stir familiar chords in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of a popular and juvenile audience.

2. It may here be objected that my heroes are at this time only a few weeks old. But instances of precocious children (especially in tragic drama) are not unheard of; and after careful inquiry the author is not satisfied that in the present case the young persons in question did not speak fluently. Allowance must, of course, be made for youthful inexperience in the matter of rhymes.

_Remus_.

D'you hear, you cads? Shut up, and let us be.

You shall not dine off Romulus and me!

_John (in alarm_).

Upon my word! What if the boys are right?

Friend Lupus, thanks--I'd rather not to-night.

_Wolf (scornfully_).

What? Do you funk it? Well, I call that rough.

_John_.

Fact is, I can't help thinking they'd taste tough.

_Rom. and Rem. (excitedly_).

We would! we would! we're awful tough to eat; We're only skin and bone and gristle; and no meat.

(_They sing_).

Two little kids from nurse are we, Skinny as two kids can be; Never a bite since yesterday, Two little kids from nurse.

Dropped we were by our cruel ma (With full consent of our awful pa) Into the stream of the river Tiber - Two little kids from nurse.

We were nearly drowned, when the stream stood still And left us dry (and hungry) till This old she-wolf came to take her fill Of two little kids from nurse.

You let us be, or we'll tell our ma, And she'll inform our awful pa; If he comes round, you'll catch a Tartar-- Two little kids from nurse.

_Wolf (turning pale_).

Your words alarm me! Gentle lads, behold, I'll be your nurse until you're two years old.

Then if you have not found your pa or ma, I will adopt you. What say you?

_Rom. and Rem._.

Hurrah!

_John_.

So now that's settled, let's chant one more strain, And after that I'll to my home again.

Song.

_Rom._.

Who ran to gulp me where I lay, And took me in her mouth away, And talked of eating me to-day?

The she-wolf.

_Rem._.