The Lord-Chamberlain Tells of a Famous Meeting

Unknown to each other, in a hostile camp-

Spies of two empire nations unallied-

These heroes met, princes of East and West,

Over a ragged pack of cards by chance.

Never believe what credulous annalists

Record you in good faith of that encounter-

I was there myself, East's man, and witnessed all.

In the main camp of the Middle Kingdom's army,

At a soldiers' mess, shortly before retreat,

East, a pretended trooper, stepping in,

Glanced round the room, shortly discerning West

Who sat dejected at a corner table.

East, moved by curiosity or compassion,

Pulled out his cards and offered West the cut;

Which West, disguised as a travelling ballad-man,

Took and cut. They played together then

For half an hour or more; then went their ways.

Never believe such credulous annalists

As tell you West, for sign of recognition-

Greatness to greatness, wit to dexterous wit-

With slight of magic most extraordinary

Altered the duty on his ace of Spades,

Making three-pence three-half-pence; East, said

For a fantastic sly acknowledgment

While his grave eyes betokened no surprise,

Made magic too; presto, the knave of Hearts

Nims the queen's rose and cocks it in his cap

Furtively, so that only West remarked it.

But such was not the fact; contrariwise,

When Proteus meets with Proteus each annuls

The variability of the other's mind:

Single they stand, casting their mutable cloaks.

So for this present chance I take my oath

That, leaning across and watching the cards close,

I caught no hint of prestidigitation.

Never believe approved biographers

Who'll show a sequence of the games then played,

Explaining that the minds of these two princes

Were of such subtlety and such nimbleness

That whipperginny, on the fall of a card,

Changed to bezique or cribbage or piquet,

Euchre or pinochle, then back once more;

Each comprehending, with no signal shown,

The opposing fancies of the other's mind.

It's said spectators of this play grew dazed-

They turned away, thinking the gamesters drunk.

But I, who sat there watching, keeping score,

Say they observed the rules of but one game-

The whole bout, playing neither well nor ill

But slowly, with their thoughts in other channels,

Serene and passionless like wooden men.

Neither believe those elegant essayists

Who reconstruct the princes' conversation

From grotesque fabrics of their own brains.

I only know that East gave West a nod,

Asking him careless questions about trade;

West gave the latest rumors from the front-

Raising of sieges, plots and pillages.

He told a camp-fire yarn to amuse the soldiers,

Whereat they all laughed emptily (East laughed too);

He sang a few staves of the latest catch,

And pulling out his roll of rhymes unfurled it,

Ballads and songs measured by the yard-rule.

But do not trust the elegant essayists

Who'd have you swallow all they care to tell

Of the riddling speech in painful double-entendre

That West and East juggled across the cards-

So intricate, so exquisitely resolved

In polished antithetical periods,

That by comparison, as you must believe, _

Solomon himself faced with the Queen of Sheba,

And Bishop Such preaching before the King,

Joined in one person, would have seemed mere trash.

I give my testimony beyond refutal,

Nailing the lie for all who ask the truth.

Pay no heed to those vagabond dramatists

Who, to present this meeting on the stage,

Would make my prince, stealthily drawing out

A golden quill and stabbing his arm for blood,

Scratch on a vellum slip some hasty sentence

And pass it under the table; which West signs

With is blood, so the treaty's made between them

All unobserved, and two far nations wedded

While enemy soldiers loll, yawning, around.

I was there myself, I say; seeing everything

Truly, this is what passed: that East, regarding

West with a steady look and knowing him sell,

For an instant let the heavy soldier-mask-

His best protection, a dull cast of face-

Light up with joy, and his eyes shoot out mirth.

West then knew East, checked, and misdealt the cards;

Nothing at all was said, on went the game.

But East bought from West's bag of ballads, after,

Two sombre histories, and some songs for dancing.

Also distrust those allegorical

Painters who, treating of this famous scene,

Are used to splash the skies with lurching cupids-

Goddesses with loose hair, and broad-cheeked zephyrs.

They burnish up the soldiers' breast-plate steel,

Rusted with languor of their long campaign,

Giving them buskins and tall plumes to wear;

While hard by, in a wanton imagery,

Aquatic Triton thunders on his conch

And satyrs gape from behind neighboring trees.

I, who was there lolling in my shirt-sleeves,

Felt no divinity brooding in that mess.

For human splendor gave the gods rebuff.

Do not believe them, seem they never so wise,

Credibly posted with all new research-

Those elegant essayists, vagabond dramatists,

Authentic and approved biographers,

Solemn annalists, allegorical

Painters, each one misleading or misled.

One thing is true: that of all the sights I have seen

In any quarter of this world of men,

By night, by day, in court, field, tavern or barn,

That was the noblest, East encountering West,

Their silent understanding and restraint,

Meeting and parting, like the kings they were,

With plain indifference to all circumstance;

Saying no goodbye, no hand-clasp and no tears,

But letting speech between them fade away

In casual murmurs and half-compliments;

East sauntering out for fresh intelligence,

And West shuffling away, not looking back;

Though each knew well that this chance meeting stood

For turning movement of world history.

And I? I trembled, knowing these things must be.

Structure

128 lines · 8 stanzas