The Revolt in the Theatre
(From Act I. of “A Topsy-Turvy World.”)
Scaramuccio.1 Poet.
SCARAMUCCIO.
No, Sir Poet, say what you please, talk as you wish, make as many objections as you can possibly make, it shall in no wise alter my purpose, to listen to nothing, to consider nothing, to insist upon having my own way,—so there!
POET.
Dear Scaramuccio!
SCARAMUCCIO.
I listen to nothing. Look, Sir Poet, how I am stopping up my ears.
POET.
But the piece——
SCARAMUCCIO.
Nonsense! the piece! I am a piece too, and I have a perfect right to say my say. Or do you suppose I have no will of my own? Do you poets labour under the delusion that a gentleman actor is called upon to do just as you say? My dear sir, know you not that the times are changing?
POET.
But the spectators——
SCARAMUCCIO.
And because there are spectators in the world, would you make me unhappy? Nice principles those!
POET.
Friend, you must listen to me.
SCARAMUCCIO.
Very well then, if I must. Here I sit; now talk like a sensible man, if it is in your nature so to do. (Sits down on the ground.)
POET.
Most esteemed Sir Scaramuccio! Your Grace has been engaged at this theatre for a special rôle—in a word, to express myself briefly, you are the Scaramuccio. It is not to be denied that you have reached a degree of excellence in this your speciality, and there is no man in the world more willing than myself to do justice to your talents; but, my dear sir, for all that you are not possessed of the qualities fitting you for a tragedian; for all that you will never be able to play a lofty character.
SCARAMUCCIO.
The impudence of it! By my soul, I’ll play you a loftier character than you will be able to write. I take your remark as a personal insult, and I challenge the whole world to out-do me in the high and lofty.
SCAEVOLA (one of the spectators).
Oh, Sir Scaramuccio, we’ll all take up your challenge.
SCARAMUCCIO.
How so? What now? I confess I am struck dumb by this insolence.
SCAEVOLA.
My dear sir, there is no cause for that. I am here for my money, Sir Scaramuccio, and I can think what I please.
SCARAMUCCIO.
You are free to think as you see best, but you are not allowed to speak here.
SCAEVOLA.
So long as you may speak, I don’t see why I shouldn’t.
SCARAMUCCIO.
Well, then, what have you done that was so noble?
SCAEVOLA.
The day before yesterday I helped my spendthrift of a nephew out of his debts.
SCARAMUCCIO.
And yesterday I saved the prompter from talking himself hoarse by leaving out a whole scene.
SCAEVOLA.
I was in a merry humour at table one day last week, and gave a whole shilling in charity.
SCARAMUCCIO.
The day before yesterday I quarrelled with my tailor, who came to dun me, and I had the last word.
SCAEVOLA.
A week ago I helped get a tipsy man home.
SCARAMUCCIO.
Sir, I was this tipsy man; but I had been drinking my sovereign’s health.
SCAEVOLA.
I confess myself vanquished.
(Enter Pierrot in a state of excitement.)
POET.
What’s the matter, Pierrot?
PIERROT.
What’s the matter? I will not play to-day. On no account will I play.
POET.
Why not?
PIERROT.
Why not? Because it’s high time for me to become a spectator. I’ve been a mime long enough.
(Enter Wagemann, the manager.)
POET.
You are just in time, Herr Wagemann. There is confusion abroad.
WAGEMANN.
How so?
POET.
Pierrot will not play to-day. He wants to be a spectator, and Scaramuccio insists upon taking the rôle of Apollo in my drama.
SCARAMUCCIO.
And am I not right, Herr Wagemann? I have played the fool long enough, and I should like to try my hand at the wise.
WAGEMANN.
You are too severe, Sir Poet. You must give the poor fellows a little more liberty. Let them have it their own way.
POET.
But the requirements of the drama, of art——
WAGEMANN.
Oh, all that will come right enough. Look you, my way of thinking is this—the spectators have paid their money, and with that the most important thing is regulated.
PIERROT.
Adieu, Sir Poet. I go to join the illustrious assembly of spectators. I will venture the bold leap over the footlights, to see if I can be cured of being a fool, and graduate to a spectator. (Sings.) Fare-thee-well, thou old love; a new life is dawning for me, and most sensible impulses are moving my heart. No footlight shall affright me, no prompter can hold me. Ah, I would taste the peaceful bliss of being an auditor. Receive me, wild waves; stage, fare-thee-well, my spirit yearns to be drawn beyond thy precincts. (Jumps into the parterre.) Where am I? Oh heavens! do I still breathe? Ah! is it possible I stand here below? The rays of the footlights shine over yonder. Ye gods, ye behold me surrounded by people. Who gave me this life, this better life?
THE AUDIENCE.
Monsieur Pierrot is one of us. A hearty welcome to thee, Spectator Pierrot. We greet thee, thou great man!
PIERROT.
Can it be, ye noble ones, that you will count me as your brother? Ah, my gratitude will last as long as there is breath within this bosom.
GRÜNHELM (one of the spectators).
Glorious, glorious! By my soul he speaks well! But as for me, I should like to take a part on the stage for a change; it would do my heart good. To be sure I tremble and stammer, and my wit is not of the quickest, but I am never so happy as when I am making a little joke. (He scrambles up on the stage.) And so, Sir Scaramuccio, leave your funny rôle to me, and then, for all I care, you may play the Apollo.
POET.
And what then is to become of my excellent drama?
AUDIENCE.
Scaramuccio shall play the Apollo. It is a unanimous decision.
POET.
’Tis well. I wash my hands of it. The audience may bear the responsibility. I am deeply miserable. Ah, yes, it is the fate of Art to be misunderstood and travestied, and it is only then that it finds its public. In vengeance for the judgment passed upon Marsyas, Poetry herself is flayed alive to-day. My sorrow is greater than I can endure. Herr Grünhelm, so you undertake to do the joking?
GRÜNHELM.
I do, Sir Poet, and I will hold my own against any rival.
POET.
How will you do it?
GRÜNHELM.
Sir, I have been one of those whose chief business it is to be amused long enough to know what will please. The people down there want to be entertained. At bottom that is the only reason they stand there so quietly and patiently. The good-will of the public is the principal thing, I know that as well as you do. True art is to keep this good-will on the surface.
POET.
Yes, of course, but by what means do you propose——?
GRÜNHELM.
Let that be my care, Sir Poet. (Sings:)
“A fowler’s trade is mine, heigh-ho,” etc.
AUDIENCE.
Bravo! bravo!
GRÜNHELM.
Are you pretty well amused, gentlemen?
AUDIENCE.
Excellently, most excellently!
GRÜNHELM.
Do you feel a longing for anything reasonable?
AUDIENCE.
No, no; but by-and-by we should like to have our feelings worked upon.
GRÜNHELM.
Patience, you can’t have all good things in a lump. Do you miss the genuine Apollo?
AUDIENCE.
Not in the least.
GRÜNHELM.
Well, Sir Poet, do you still object to granting the excellent Scaramuccio’s request?
POET.
Not in the least. I withdraw all my objections.
AUDIENCE.
But we don’t want him to give us nothing but nonsense.
SCARAMUCCIO.
Mercy on us! We would not be guilty of such a sinful thing. What kind of an Apollo were I if I should admit of that? No, gentlemen, there shall be an abundance of serious things—things to think about, things to train one’s intellectual faculties.
SCAEVOLA.
Is it to be a tragedy?
PIERROT.
No, gentlemen, we actors have all sworn that we will not die, so it won’t be a tragedy, whatever the poet may have in his mind.
SCAEVOLA.
I am relieved to hear it, for I am possessed of a very soft heart.
PIERROT.
Hang it, sir, neither are we made of stone and iron. I have the honour of assuring you that my susceptibilities are uncommonly delicate. The devil take all inelegancies.
SCAEVOLA.
That is what I say. There is nothing above being a spectator. It is the highest thing one can be.
PIERROT.
Ay, that it is. Are we not more than all the emperors and princes that are but acted?
SCARAMUCCIO.
Thunder and lightning! Where, in the hangman’s name, is my Parnassus?
GRÜNHELM.
I will go and get it. (Exit.)
WAGEMANN.
Now all is in order. Adieu, Sir Scaramuccio.
SCARAMUCCIO.
Your humble servant. Beg you to express my respects to Madam, your wife. (The manager exit. Three attendants enter, carrying the Parnassus.) Put it down here,—a trifle further to this side, so that I can hear the prompter. (He climbs up and takes a seat.) A pleasant mount this. What revenues does it yield? Can any one tell me? Send for the treasurer.
(Enter the Treasurer.)
SCARAMUCCIO.
What does the mount bring me annually?
TREASURER.
Under your predecessor, the only profits derived were those from the Castalian Spring.
SCARAMUCCIO.
What sort of a spring? Was it a mineral spring; a sulphur spring, perhaps? Was there much demand for the waters? What was the price per bottle?
TREASURER.
What little there was wanted was given away. Few people liked the water. Your predecessor, the other Apollo, was fond of it.
SCARAMUCCIO.
I hope there are no mortgages on the mount?
TREASURER.
No, your majesty.
SCARAMUCCIO.
Is it insured?
TREASURER.
Oh, yes.
SCARAMUCCIO.
There is some security in that. I shall have a brewery and a bakery put up at the foot. The common pastures must be otherwise disposed of; Pegasus and the other beasts that belong to me must henceforth be fed in the stable.
TREASURER.
It shall be as you say.
SCARAMUCCIO.
Have the spectators paid for the play?
TREASURER.
Yes, your excellency.
SCARAMUCCIO.
I hereby decree that there shall be no complimentary tickets in future.
TREASURER.
These are innovations not at all in accordance with the institutions of Greece.
SCARAMUCCIO.
Hang Greece! Thank goodness we live in better times. This is an age of enlightenment, and I reign supreme. Send for the Muses. (Exit the Treasurer.)
(Enter the nine Muses, bowing profoundly.)
SCARAMUCCIO (lightly nodding to them).
Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mademoiselles. Hope we shall get on finely together. Henceforth you shall be my tenants on the Parnassus. Should you ever desire to change your residence, quarterly notice is required. What is your name, fair child?
MELPOMENE.
I am Melpomene.
SCARAMUCCIO.
You look so woe-begone.
MELPOMENE.
Oh, Herr Apollo! I am of a very good family. My father had a high position at court, and the thane gave me a matchless education. Ah, how happy I was in my parents’ house, and what a dutiful daughter did I strive to be! I also had a lover, but he jilted me, and my parents died of grief. Our family physician, a worthy man, took an interest in me; but he was too poor to marry me, so there was nothing for it but to join the Muses. Have I no right to be sad?
SCARAMUCCIO.
Yes indeed, my child; but I will be as a father to you.
SCAEVOLA (to another spectator).
Now see, for heaven’s sake, how the tears are flowing from my eyes.
THE OTHER.
Why, neighbour, save them for the fifth act.
SCARAMUCCIO.
And who are you, pretty maid?
THALIA.
Thank you kindly, sir, for asking; I was christened Thalia. I was a servant in the family of this excellent lady, and I could not bring myself to leave her in her distress, and followed her among the Muses.
SCARAMUCCIO.
When the last act comes your faithfulness will surely be rewarded. Where is my groom?
(Enter the Groom.)
SCARAMUCCIO.
Saddle my Pegasus. I wish to go riding.
(Exit the Groom, coming back immediately with a bridled donkey.)
Help me. (He gets in the saddle.)
By what rules of quantity does your Honour choose to take his pleasure to-day?
SCARAMUCCIO.
Oh, fool! I will ride in plain, sensible prose. Do you suppose I wish to be jolted in Alcaic measures, or break my neck in Proceleusmatics? No, I am for sense and order.
GROOM.
Your predecessor was always flying in the air.
SCARAMUCCIO.
Don’t talk to me about the fellow. He must have been a very clown, a most eccentric ass. To fly into the air! No, the air has no pillars, I am all for the earth. Adieu, my friends! I am only going to ride a short essay on the value of family portraits. I shall be back presently. (He rides slowly away.)
(The curtain drops.)
SCAEVOLA.
That was only the introduction.
PIERROT.
The first act is always of great importance for the lucidity of the whole.
THE OTHER TO SCAEVOLA.
There is much morality in the piece.
SCAEVOLA.
Indeed there is; I feel myself growing better already.
PIERROT.
Music!
Ludwig Tieck (1773-1853).