Part 33
A tenor, all singers above (This doesn't admit of a question), Should keep himself quiet, Attend to his diet And carefully nurse his digestion; But when he is madly in love It's certain to tell on his singing— You can't do the proper chromatics With proper emphatics When anguish your bosom is wringing! When distracted with worries in plenty, And his pulse is a hundred and twenty, And his fluttering bosom the slave of mistrust is, A tenor can't do himself justice, Now observe—(sings a high note), You see, I can't do myself justice! I could sing if my fervour were mock, It's easy enough if you're acting— But when one's emotion Is born of devotion You mustn't be over-exacting. One ought to be firm as a rock To venture a shake in vibrato, When fervour's expected Keep cool and collected Or never attempt agitato. But, of course, when his tongue is of leather, And his lips appear pasted together, And his sensitive palate as dry as a crust is, A tenor can't do himself justice. Now observe—(sings a high note), It's no use—I can't do myself justice!
Zara: Why, Arthur, what does it matter? When the higher qualities of the heart are all that can be desired, the higher notes of the voice are matters of comparative insignificance. Who thinks slightingly of the cocoanut because it is husky? Be-sides (demurely), you are not singing for an engagement (putting her hand in his), you have that already!
Fitz.: How good and wise you are! How unerringly your practiced brain winnows the wheat from the chaff—the material from the merely incidental!
Zara: My Girton training, Arthur. At Girton all is wheat, and idle chaff is never heard within its walls! But tell me, is not all working marvelously well? Have not our Flowers of Progress more than justified their name?
Fitz.: We have indeed done our best. Captain Corcoran and I have, in concert, thoroughly remodeled the sister- services—and upon so sound a basis that the South Pacific trembles at the name of Utopia!
Zara: How clever of you!
Fitz.: Clever? Not a bit. It's easy as possible when the Admiral-ty and Horse Guards are not there to interfere. And so with the others. Freed from the trammels imposed upon them by idle Acts of Parliament, all have given their natural tal-ents full play and introduced reforms which, even in Eng-land, were never dreamt of!
Zara: But perhaps the most beneficent changes of all has been ef-fected by Mr. Goldbury, who, discarding the exploded theory that some strange magic lies hidden in the number Seven, has applied the Limited Liability principle to individuals, and every man, woman, and child is now a Company Limited with liability restricted to the amount of his declared Capital! There is not a christened baby in Utopia who has not already issued his little Prospectus!
Fitz.: Marvelous is the power of a Civilization which can trans-mute, by a word, a Limited Income into an Income Limited.
Zara: Reform has not stopped here—it has been applied even to the costume of our people. Discarding their own barbaric dress, the natives of our land have unanimously adopted the taste- ful fashions of England in all their rich entirety. Scaphio and Phantis have undertaken a contract to supply the whole of Utopia with clothing designed upon the most approved English models—and the first Drawing-Room under the new state of things is to be held here this evening.
Fitz.: But Drawing-Rooms are always held in the afternoon.
Zara: Ah, we've improved upon that. We all look so much better by candlelight! And when I tell you, dearest, that my Court train has just arrived, you will understand that I am long- ing to go and try it on.
Fitz.: Then we must part?
Zara: Necessarily, for a time.
Fitz.: Just as I wanted to tell you, with all the passionate enthu-siasm of my nature, how deeply, how devotedly I love you!
Zara: Hush! Are these the accents of a heart that really feels? True love does not indulge in declamation—its voice is sweet, and soft, and low. The west wind whispers when he woos the poplars!
DUET — Zara and Fitzbattleaxe.
Zara: Words of love too loudly spoken Ring their own untimely knell; Noisy vows are rudely broken, Soft the song of Philomel. Whisper sweetly, whisper slowly, Hour by hour and day by day; Sweet and low as accents holy Are the notes of lover's lay.
Both: Sweet and low, etc.
Fitz: Let the conqueror, flushed with glory, Bid his noisy clarions bray; Lovers tell their artless story In a whispered virelay. False is he whose vows alluring Make the listening echoes ring; Sweet and low when all-enduring Are the songs that lovers sing!
Both: Sweet and low, etc.
(Exit Zara. Enter King dressed as Field-Marshal.)
King: To a Monarch who has been accustomed to the uncontrolled use of his limbs, the costume of a British Field-Marshal is, perhaps, at first, a little cramping. Are you sure that this is all right? It's not a practical joke, is it? No one has a keener sense of humor than I have, but the First Statutory Cabinet Council of Utopia Limited must be conduct-ed with dignity and impressiveness. Now, where are the other five who signed the Articles of Association?
Fitz.: Sir, they are here.
(Enter Lord Dramaleigh, Captain Corcoran, Sir Bailey Barre, Mr. Blushington, and Mr. Goldbury from different entrances.)
King: Oh! (Addressing them) Gentlemen, our daughter holds her first Drawing-Room in half an hour, and we shall have time to make our half-yearly report in the interval. I am neces-sarily unfamiliar with the forms of an English Cabinet Council—perhaps the Lord Chamberlain will kindly put us in the way of doing the thing properly, and with due regard to the solemnity of the occasion.
Lord D.: Certainly—nothing simpler. Kindly bring your chairs forward—His Majesty will, of course, preside.
(They range their chairs across stage like Christy Minstrels. King sits center, Lord Dramaleigh on his left, Mr. Goldbury on his right, Captain Corcoran left of Lord Dramaleigh, Captain Fitzbattleaxe right of Mr. Goldbury, Mr. Blushington extreme right, Sir Bailey Barre extreme left.)
King: Like this?
Lord D.: Like this.
King: We take your word for it that this is all right. You are not making fun of us? This is in accordance with the prac- tice at the Court of St. James's?
Lord D.: Well, it is in accordance with the practice at the Court of St. James's Hall.
King: Oh! it seems odd, but never mind.
SONG — King.
Society has quite forsaken all her wicked courses. Which empties our police courts, and abolishes divorces.
Chorus: Divorce is nearly obsolete in England.
King: No tolerance we show to undeserving rank and splendour; For the higher his position is, the greater the offender.
Chorus: That's a maxim that is prevalent in England.
King: No peeress at our drawing-room before the Presence passes Who wouldn't be accepted by the lower middle-classes. Each shady dame, whatever be her rank, is bowed out neatly.
Chorus: In short, this happy country has been Anglicized completely Is really is surprising What a thorough Anglicizing We have brought about—Utopia's quite another land; In her enterprising movements, She is England—with improvements, Which we dutifully offer to our mother-land!
King: Our city we have beautified—we've done it willy- nilly— And all that isn't Belgrave Square is Strand and Piccadilly.
Chorus: We haven't any slummeries in England!
King: The chamberlain our native stage has purged beyond a question. Of "risky" situation and indelicate suggestion; No piece is tolerated if it's costumed indiscreetly—
Chorus: In short this happy country has been Anglicized com-pletely! It really is surprising, etc.
King: Our peerage we've remodelled on an intellectual basis, Which certainly is rough on our hereditary races—
Chorus: We are going to remodel it in England.
King: The Brewers and the Cotton Lords no longer seek admission, And literary merit meets with proper recognition—
Chorus: As literary merit does in England!
King: Who knows but we may count among our intellectual chickens, Like you, an Earl of Thackery and p'r'aps a Duke of Dickens— Lord Fildes and Viscount Millais (when they come) we'll welcome sweetly—
Chorus: In short, this happy country has been Anglicized completely! It really is surprising, etc.
(At the end all rise and replace their chairs.)
King: Now, then, for our first Drawing-Room. Where are the Prin-cesses? What an extraordinary thing it is that since Euro- pean looking-glasses have been supplied to the Royal bed-rooms my daughters are invariably late!
Lord D.: Sir, their Royal Highnesses await your pleasure in the Ante-room.
King: Oh. Then request them to do us the favor to enter at once.
(Enter all the Royal Household, including (besides the Lord Chamber-lain) the Vice-Chamberlain, the Master of the Horse, the Master of the Buckhounds, the Lord High Treasurer, the Lord Steward, the Comptroller of the Household, the Lord-in-Waiting, the Field Officer in Brigade Waiting, the Gold and Silver Stick, and the Gentlemen Ushers. Then enter the three Princesses (their trains carried by Pages of Honor), Lady Sophy, and the Ladies-in- Waiting.)
King: My daughters, we are about to attempt a very solemn ceremo-nial, so no giggling, if you please. Now, my Lord Chamber- lain, we are ready.
Lord D.: Then, ladies and gentlemen, places, if you please. His Maj-esty will take his place in front of the throne, and will be so obliging as to embrace all the debutantes. (LADY SOPHY much shocked.)
King: What—must I really?
Lord D.: Absolutely indispensable.
King: More jam for the Palace Peeper!
(The King takes his place in front of the throne, the Princess Zara on his left, the two younger Princesses on the left of Zara.)
King: Now, is every one in his place?
Lord D.: Every one is in his place.
King: Then let the revels commence.
(Enter the ladies attending the Drawing-Room. They give their cards to the Groom-in-Waiting, who passes them to the Lord-in- Waiting, who passes them to the Vice-Chamberlain, who passes them to the Lord Chamberlain, who reads the names to the King as each lady approaches. The ladies curtsey in succession to the King and the three Princesses, and pass out. When all the presentations have been accomplished, the King, Princesses, and Lady Sophy come forward, and all the ladies re-enter.)
RECITATIVE — King
This ceremonial our wish displays To copy all Great Britain's courtly ways. Though lofty aims catastrophe entail, We'll gloriously succeed or nobly fail!
UNACCOMPANIED CHORUS
Eagle High in Cloudland soaring— Sparrow twittering on a reed— Tiger in the jungle roaring— Frightened fawn in grassy mead— Let the eagle, not the sparrow, Be the object of your arrow— Fix the tiger with your eye— Pass the fawn in pity by. Glory then will crown the day— Glory, glory, anyway!
(Exit all.)
Enter Scaphio and Phantis, now dressed as judges in red and ermine robes and undress wigs. They come down stage melodramatically — working together.
DUET — Scaphio and Phantis.
Sca.: With fury deep we burn
Phan.: We do—
Sca.: We fume with smothered rage—
Phan.: We do—
Sca.: These Englishmen who rule supreme, Their undertaking they redeem By stifling every harmless scheme In which we both engage—
Phan.: They do—
Sca.: In which we both engage—
Phan.: We think it is our turn—
Sca.: We do—
Phan.: We think our turn has come—
Sca.: We do.
Phan.: These Englishmen, they must prepare To seek at once their native air. The King as heretofore, we swear, Shall be beneath our thumb—
Sca.: He shall—
Phan.: Shall be beneath out thumb—
Sca.: He shall.
Both: (with great energy) For this mustn't be, and this won't do. If you'll back me, then I'll back you, No, this won't do, No, this mustn't be. With fury deep we burn...
Enter the King.
King: Gentlemen, gentlemen—really! This unseemly display of energy within the Royal precincts is altogether unpardon-able. Pray, what do you complain of?
Scaphio: (furiously) What do we complain of? Why, through the innovations introduced by the Flowers of Progress all our harmless schemes for making a provision for our old age are ruined. Our Matrimonial Agency is at a standstill, our Cheap Sherry business is in bankruptcy, our Army Clothing contracts are paralyzed, and even our Society paper, the Palace Peeper, is practically defunct!
King: Defunct? Is that so? Dear, dear, I am truly sorry.
Scaphio: Are you aware that Sir Bailey Barre has introduced a law of libel by which all editors of scurrilous newspapers are pub- licly flogged—as in England? And six of our editors have resigned in succession! Now, the editor of a scurrilous paper can stand a good deal—he takes a private thrashing as a matter of course—it's considered in his salary—but no gentleman likes to be publicly flogged.
King: Naturally. I shouldn't like it myself.
Phantis: Then our Burlesque Theater is absolutely ruined!
King: Dear me. Well, theatrical property is not what it was.
Phantis: Are you aware that the Lord Chamberlain, who has his own views as to the best means of elevating the national drama, has declined to license any play that is not in blank verse and three hundred years old—as in England?
Scaphio: And as if that wasn't enough, the County Councillor has or-dered a four-foot wall to be built up right across the proscenium, in case of fire—as in England.
Phantis: It's so hard on the company—who are liable to be roasted alive—and this has to be met by enormously increased salaries—as in England.
Scaphio: You probably know that we've contracted to supply the entire nation with a complete English outfit. But perhaps you do not know that, when we send in our bills, our customers plead liability limited to a declared capital of eighteenpence, and apply to be dealt with under the Winding-up Act—as in England?
King: Really, gentlemen, this is very irregular. If you will be so good as to formulate a detailed list of your grievances in writing, addressed to the Secretary of Utopia Limited, they will be laid before the Board, in due course, at their next monthly meeting.
Scaphio: Are we to understand that we are defied?
King: That is the idea I intended to convey.
Phantis: Defied! We are defied!
Scaphio: (furiously) Take care—you know our powers. Trifle with us, and you die!
TRIO — Scaphio, Phantis, and King.
Sca.: If you think that, when banded in unity, We may both be defied with impunity, You are sadly misled of a verity!
Phan.: If you value repose and tranquility, You'll revert to a state of docility, Or prepare to regret your temerity!
King.: If my speech is unduly refractory You will find it a course satisfactory At an early Board meeting to show it up. Though if proper excuse you can trump any, You may wind up a Limited Company, You cannot conveniently blow it up!
(Scaphio and Phantis thoroughly baffled)
King.: (Dancing quietly) Whene'er I chance to baffle you I, also, dance a step or two— Of this now guess the hidden sense:
(Scaphio and Phantis consider the question as King continues dancing quietly—then give it up.)
It means complete indifference!
Sca. and Phan.: Of course it does—indifference! It means complete indifference!
(King dancing quietly. Sca. and Phan. dancing furiously.)
Sca. and Phan.: As we've a dance for every mood With pas de trois we will conclude, What this may mean you all may guess— It typifies remorselessness!
King.: It means unruffled cheerfulness!
(King dances off placidly as Scaphio and Phantis dance furiously.)
Phantis: (breathless) He's right—we are helpless! He's no longer a human being—he's a Corporation, and so long as he confines himself to his Articles of Association we can't touch him! What are we to do?
Scaphio: Do? Raise a Revolution, repeal the Act of Sixty-Two, recon-vert him into an individual, and insist on his immediate ex- plosion! (Tarara enters.) Tarara, come here; you're the very man we want.
Tarara: Certainly, allow me. (Offers a cracker to each; they snatch them away impatiently.) That's rude.
Scaphio: We have no time for idle forms. You wish to succeed to the throne?
Tarara: Naturally.
Scaphio: Then you won't unless you join us. The King has defied us, and, as matters stand, we are helpless. So are you. We must devise some plot at once to bring the people about his ears.
Tarara: A plot?
Phantis: Yes, a plot of superhuman subtlety. Have you such a thing about you?
Tarara: (feeling) No, I think not. No. There's one on my dressing-table.
Scaphio: We can't wait—we must concoct one at once, and put it into execution without delay. There is not a moment to spare!
TRIO — Scaphio, Phantis, and Tarara.
Ensemble
With wily brain upon the spot A private plot we'll plan, The most ingenious private plot Since private plots began. That's understood. So far we've got And, striking while the iron's hot, We'll now determine like a shot The details of this private plot.
Sca.: I think we ought—(whispers) Phan. and Tar.: Such bosh I never heard! Phan.: Ah! happy thought!—(whispers) Sca. and Tar.: How utterly dashed absurd! Tar.: I'll tell you how—(whispers) Sca and Phan.: Why, what put that in your head? Sca.: I've got it now—(whispers) Phan. and Tar.: Oh, take him away to bed! Phan.: Oh, put him to bed! Tar.: Oh, put him to bed! Sca.: What, put me to bed? Phan. and Tar.: Yes, certainly put him to bed! Sca.: But, bless me, don't you see— Phan.: Do listen to me, I pray— Tar.: It certainly seems to me— Sca.: Bah—this is the only way! Phan.: It's rubbish absurd you growl! Tar.: You talk ridiculous stuff! Sca.: You're a drivelling barndoor owl! Phan.: You're a vapid and vain old muff!
(All, coming down to audience.)
So far we haven't quite solved the plot— They're not a very ingenious lot— But don't be unhappy, It's still on the tapis, We'll presently hit on a capital plot!
Sca.: Suppose we all—(whispers) Phan.: Now there I think you're right. Then we might all—(whispers) Tar.: That's true, we certainly might. I'll tell you what—(whispers) Sca.: We will if we possibly can. Then on the spot— (whispers) Phan. and Tar.: Bravo! A capital plan! Sca.: That's exceedingly neat and new! Phan.: Exceedingly new and neat. Tar.: I fancy that that will do. Sca.: It's certainly very complete. Phan.: Well done you sly old sap! Tar.: Bravo, you cunning old mole! Sca.: You very ingenious chap! Phan.: You intellectual soul!
(All, coming down and addressing audience.)
At last a capital plan we've got We won't say how and we won't say what: It's safe in my noddle— Now off we will toddle, And slyly develop this capital plot!
(Business. Exeunt Scaphio and Phantis in one direction, and Tarara in the other.)
(Enter Lord Dramaleigh and Mr. Goldbury.)
Lord D.: Well, what do you think of our first South Pacific Drawing-Room? Allowing for a slight difficulty with the trains, and a little want of familiarity with the use of the rouge-pot, it was, on the whole, a meritorious affair?
Gold.: My dear Dramaleigh, it redounds infinitely to your credit.
Lord D.: One or two judicious innovations, I think?
Gold.: Admirable. The cup of tea and the plate of mixed biscuits were a cheap and effective inspiration.
Lord D.: Yes—my idea entirely. Never been done before.
Gold.: Pretty little maids, the King's youngest daughters, but timid.
Lord D.: That'll wear off. Young.
Gold.: That'll wear off. Ha! here they come, by George! And with-out the Dragon! What can they have done with her?
(Enter Nekaya and Kalyba timidly.)
Nekaya: Oh, if you please, Lady Sophy has sent us in here, because Zara and Captain Fitzbattleaxe are going on, in the garden, in a manner which no well-conducted young ladies ought to witness.
Lord D.: Indeed, we are very much obliged to her Ladyship.
Kalyba: Are you? I wonder why.
Nekaya: Don't tell us if it's rude.
Lord D.: Rude? Not at all. We are obliged to Lady Sophy because she has afforded us the pleasure of seeing you.
Nekaya: I don't think you ought to talk to us like that.
Kalyba: It's calculated to turn our heads.
Nekaya: Attractive girls cannot be too particular.
Kalyba: Oh pray, pray do not take advantage of our unprotected inno-cence.
Gold.: Pray be reassured—you are in no danger whatever.
Lord D.: But may I ask—is this extreme delicacy—this shrinking sensitiveness—a general characteristic of Utopian young ladies?
Nekaya: Oh no; we are crack specimens.
Kalyba: We are the pick of the basket. Would you mind not coming quite so near? Thank you.
Nekaya: And please don't look at us like that; it unsettles us.
Kalyba: And we don't like it. At least, we do like it; but it's wrong.
Nekaya: We have enjoyed the inestimable privilege of being educated by a most refined and easily shocked English lady, on the very strictest English principles.
Gold.: But, my dear young ladies—-
Kalyba: Oh, don't! You mustn't. It's too affectionate.
Nekaya: It really does unsettle us.
Gold.: Are you really under the impression that English girls are so ridiculously demure? Why, an English girl of the highest type is the best, the most beautiful, the bravest, and the brightest creature that Heaven has conferred upon this world of ours. She is frank, open-hearted, and fearless, and never shows in so favorable a light as when she gives her own blameless impulses full play!
Nekaya Oh, you shocking story! and Kalyba:
Gold.: Not at all. I'm speaking the strict truth. I'll tell you all about her.
SONG — Mr. Goldbury.
A wonderful joy our eyes to bless, In her magnificent comeliness, Is an English girl of eleven stone two, And five foot ten in her dancing shoe! She follows the hounds, and on she pounds— The "field" tails off and the muffs diminish—
Over the hedges and brooks she bounds, Straight as a crow, from find to finish. At cricket, her kin will lose or win— She and her maids, on grass and clover, Eleven maids out—eleven maids in— And perhaps an occasional "maiden over!"
Go search the world and search the sea, Then come you home and sing with me There's no such gold and no such pearl As a bright and beautiful English girl!
With a ten-mile spin she stretches her limbs, She golfs, she punts, she rows, she swims— She plays, she sings, she dances, too, From ten or eleven til all is blue! At ball or drum, til small hours come (Chaperon's fans concealing her yawning) She'll waltz away like a teetotum. And never go home til daylight's dawning. Lawn-tennis may share her favours fair— Her eyes a-dance, and her cheeks a-glowing— Down comes her hair, but then what does she care? It's all her own and it's worth the showing! Go search the world, etc.
Her soul is sweet as the ocean air, For prudery knows no haven there; To find mock-modesty, please apply To the conscious blush and the downcast eye. Rich in the things contentment brings, In every pure enjoyment wealthy, Blithe and beautiful bird she sings, For body and mind are hale and healthy. Her eyes they thrill with right goodwill— Her heart is light as a floating feather— As pure and bright as the mountain rill That leaps and laughs in the Highland heather! Go search the world, etc.
QUARTET
Nek.: Then I may sing and play?
Lord D.: You may!
Kal.: Then I may laugh and shout?
Gold.: No doubt!.
Nek.: These maxims you endorse?
Lord D.: Of course!
Kal.: You won't exclaim "Oh fie!"
Gold.: Not I!
Gold: Whatever you are—be that: Whatever you say—be true: Straightforwardly act— Be honest—in fact, Be nobody else but you.
Lord D.: Give every answer pat— Your character true unfurl; And when it is ripe, You'll then be a type Of a capital English girl.