The Complete Plays of Gilbert and Sullivan Part 14

LUD. Oh, it's the old story--the Grand Duke!

ALL. Ugh!

LUD. It seems that the little imp has selected this, our wedding day, for a convocation of all the clergy in the town to settle the details of his approaching marriage with the enormously wealthy Baroness von Krakenfeldt, and there won't be a parson to be had for love or money until six o'clock this evening!

LISA. And as we produce our magnificent cla.s.sical revival of Troilus and Cressida to-night at seven, we have no alternative but to eat our wedding breakfast before we've earned it. So sit down, and make the best of it.

GRET. Oh, I should like to pull his Grand Ducal ears for him, that I should! He's the meanest, the cruellest, the most spiteful little ape in Christendom!

OLGA. Well, we shall soon be freed from his tyranny.

To-morrow the Despot is to be dethroned!

LUD. Hush, rash girl! You know not what you say.

OLGA. Don't be absurd! We're all in it--we're all tiled, here.

LUD. That has nothing to do with it. Know ye not that in alluding to our conspiracy without having first given and received the secret sign, you are violating a fundamental principle of our a.s.sociation?

SONG--LUDWIG.

By the mystic regulation Of our dark a.s.sociation, Ere you open conversation With another kindred soul, You must eat a sausage-roll! (Producing one.)

ALL. You must eat a sausage-roll!

LUD. If, in turn, he eats another, That's a sign that he's a brother-- Each may fully trust the other.

It is quaint and it is droll, But it's bilious on the whole.

ALL. Very bilious on the whole.

LUD. It's a greasy kind of pasty, Which, perhaps, a judgement hasty Might consider rather tasty: Once (to speak without disguise) It found favour in our eyes.

ALL. It found favour in our eyes.

LUD. But when you've been six months feeding (As we have) on this exceeding Bilious food, it's no ill-breeding If at these repulsive pies Our offended gorges rise!

ALL. Our offended gorges rise!

MARTHA. Oh, bother the secret sign! I've eaten it until I'm quite uncomfortable! I've given it six times already to-day--and (whimpering) I can't eat any breakfast!

BERTHA. And it's so unwholesome. Why, we should all be as yellow as frogs if it wasn't for the make-up!

LUD. All this is rank treason to the cause. I suffer as much as any of you. I loathe the repulsive thing--I can't contemplate it without a shudder--but I'm a conscientious conspirator, and if you won't give the sign I will. (Eats sausage-roll with an effort.) LISA. Poor martyr! He's always at it, and it's a wonder where he puts it!

NOT. Well now, about Troilus and Cressida. What do you play?

LUD. (struggling with his feelings). If you'll be so obliging as to wait until I've got rid of this feeling of warm oil at the bottom of my throat, I'll tell you all about it.

(LISA gives him some brandy.) Thank you, my love; it's gone.

Well, the piece will be produced upon a scale of unexampled magnificence. It is confidently predicted that my appearance as King Agamemnon, in a Louis Quatorze wig, will mark an epoch in the theatrical annals of Pfennig Halbpfennig. I endeavoured to persuade Ernest Dummkopf, our manager, to lend us the cla.s.sical dresses for our marriage. Think of the effect of a real Athenian wedding procession cavorting through the streets of Speisesaal!

Torches burning--cymbals banging--flutes tootling--citharae tw.a.n.ging--and a throng of fifty lovely Spartan virgins capering before us, all down the High Street, singing "Eloia! Eloia!

Opoponax, Eloia!" It would have been tremendous!

NOT. And he declined?

LUD. He did, on the prosaic ground that it might rain, and the ancient Greeks didn't carry umbrellas! If, as is confidently expected, Ernest Dummkopf is elected to succeed the dethroned one, mark any words, he will make a mess of it.

[Exit LUDWIG with LISA.

OLGA. He's sure to be elected. His entire company has promised to plump for him on the understanding that all the places about the Court are filled by members of his troupe, according to professional precedence.

ERNEST enters in great excitement.

BERTHA (looking off). Here comes Ernest Dummkopf. Now we shall know all about it!

ALL. Well--what's the news? How is the election going?

ERN. Oh, it's a certainty--a practical certainty! Two of the candidates have been arrested for debt, and the third is a baby in arms--so, if you keep your promises, and vote solid, I'm c.o.c.ksure of election!

OLGA. Trust to us. But you remember the conditions?

ERN. Yes--all of you shall be provided for, for life.

Every man shall be enn.o.bled--every lady shall have unlimited credit at the Court Milliner's, and all salaries shall be paid weekly in advance!

GRET. Oh, it's quite clear he knows how to rule a Grand Duchy!

ERN. Rule a Grand Duchy? Why, my good girl, for ten years past I've ruled a theatrical company! A man who can do that can rule anything!

SONG--ERNEST.

Were I a king in very truth, And had a son--a guileless youth-- In probable succession; To teach him patience, teach him tact, How promptly in a fix to act, He should adopt, in point of fact, A manager's profession.

To that condition he should stoop (Despite a too fond mother), With eight or ten "stars" in his troupe, All jealous of each other!

Oh, the man who can rule a theatrical crew, Each member a genius (and some of them two), And manage to humour them, little and great, Can govern this tuppenny State!

ALL. Oh, the man, etc.

Both A and B rehearsal slight-- They say they'll be "all right at night"

(They've both to go to school yet); C in each act must change her dress, D will attempt to "square the press"; E won't play Romeo unless His grandmother plays Juliet; F claims all hoydens as her rights (She's played them thirty seasons); And G must show herself in tights For two convincing reasons-- Two very well-shaped reasons!

Oh, the man who can drive a theatrical team, With wheelers and leaders in order supreme, Can govern and rule, with a wave of his fin, All Europe--with Ireland thrown in!

ALL. Oh, the man, etc.

[Exeunt all but ERNEST.

ERN. Elected by my fellow-conspirators to be Grand Duke of Pfennig Halbpfennig as soon as the contemptible little occupant of the historical throne is deposed--here is promotion indeed!

Why, instead of playing Troilus of Troy for a month, I shall play Grand Duke of Pfennig Halbpfennig for a lifetime! Yet, am I happy? No--far from happy! The lovely English comdienne--the beautiful Julia, whose dramatic ability is so overwhelming that our audiences forgive even her strong English accent--that rare and radiant being treats my respectful advances with disdain unutterable! And yet, who knows? She is haughty and ambitious, and it may be that the splendid change in my fortunes may work a corresponding change in her feelings towards me!

Enter JULIA JELLICOE.

JULIA. Herr Dummkopf, a word with you, if you please.

ERN. Beautiful English maiden-- JULIA. No compliments, I beg. I desire to speak with you on a purely professional matter, so we will, if you please, dispense with allusions to my personal appearance, which can only tend to widen the breach which already exists between us.

ERN. (aside). My only hope shattered! The haughty Londoner still despises me! (Aloud.) It shall be as you will.

JULIA. I understand that the conspiracy in which we are all concerned is to develop to-morrow, and that the company is likely to elect you to the throne on the understanding that the posts about the Court are to be filled by members of your theatrical troupe, according to their professional importance.

ERN. That is so.

JULIA. Then all I can say is that it places me in an extremely awkward position.

ERN. (very depressed). I don't see how it concerns you.

JULIA. Why, bless my heart, don't you see that, as your leading lady, I am bound under a serious penalty to play the leading part in all your productions?

ERN. Well?

JULIA. Why, of course, the leading part in this production will be the Grand d.u.c.h.ess!

ERN. My wife?

JULIA. That is another way of expressing the same idea.

ERN. (aside--delighted). I scarcely dared even to hope for this!

JULIA. Of course, as your leading lady, you'll be mean enough to hold me to the terms of my agreement. Oh, that's so like a man! Well, I suppose there's no help for it--I shall have to do it!

ERN. (aside). She's mine! (Aloud.) But--do you really think you would care to play that part? (Taking her hand.) JULIA (withdrawing it). Care to play it? Certainly not--but what am I to do? Business is business, and I am bound by the terms of my agreement.

ERN. It's for a long run, mind--a run that may last many, many years--no understudy--and once embarked upon there's no throwing it up.

JULIA. Oh, we're used to these long runs in England: they are the curse of the stage--but, you see, I've no option.

ERN. You think the part of Grand d.u.c.h.ess will be good enough for you?

JULIA. Oh, I think so. It's a very good part in Gerolstein, and oughtn't to be a bad one in Pfennig Halbpfennig.

Why, what did you suppose I was going to play?

ERN. (keeping up a show of reluctance) But, considering your strong personal dislike to me and your persistent rejection of my repeated offers, won't you find it difficult to throw yourself into the part with all the impa.s.sioned enthusiasm that the character seems to demand? Remember, it's a strongly emotional part, involving long and repeated scenes of rapture, tenderness, adoration, devotion--all in luxuriant excess, and all of the most demonstrative description.

JULIA. My good sir, throughout my career I have made it a rule never to allow private feeling to interfere with my professional duties. You may be quite sure that (however distasteful the part may be) if I undertake it, I shall consider myself professionally bound to throw myself into it with all the ardour at my command.

ERN. (aside--with effusion). I'm the happiest fellow alive!

(Aloud.) Now--would you have any objection--to--to give me some idea--if it's only a mere sketch--as to how you would play it?

It would be really interesting--to me--to know your conception of--of--the part of my wife.