University of Virginia Library

Scene Third.

—Neatherd's Cottage and Public Bakehouse; placards about, “Best bread down again”—“Hot rolls at 8”—“Bakings punctually attended to,” &c. &c.; an oven forward, L.
Alfred discovered, as in Wilkie's picture, only with a baker's peel instead of a bow, L.; Maude making dough and watching him in his reverie, R.
Alfred.
(musing)
Muffins! and monarchy! Oh! it's all right!

Maude.
Aye—there he sits—and would from morn till night.
This comes of paying workmen by the hour!
To see the time he wastes—

Alfred.
(as before, not heeding her)
The choicest flower—

Maude.
Ah! much you know of that—

Alfred.
(as before)
Of England's Army!

Maude.
Bring me that yeast—

Alfred.
(mechanically stirring some yeast)
Why is the 'East called Barmy?
Dawn brings no slumber to these eyes unwilling—

Maude.
You're a nice baker—

Alfred.
And the night-work's killing!
All were not lost yet—by a desp'rate plunge
In Guthrum's camp—if I could set a sponge,
I might stir up a little fermentation
And make bad bread between him and the nation.
(Maude comes forward, looking at him astonished, Alfred continues not heeding her)
What right has Guthrum, any more than I,
To dip his finger in another's pie?
(he mechanically suits the action to the word, with a large unbaked pie on the table—Maude aghast)
Pies! (excited)
If my time I o'er again could go!
I'd cram the humblest down his throat—just so!

(in his excitement, he crams a very small patty from a tray, into his mouth)
Maude.
(coming forward)
Upon my word!

Alfred.
(aside)
Oh! fatal dis-illusion!
Madam! I'm all puff paste—I mean—confusion—
But I'll make good the act that's roused your ire, I see,
Of petty larceny—or patty pi-racy!

Maude.
(R.)
You'll make it good?

Alfred.
(L.)
Say that, I scarcely durst.
It wasn't very good—to eat—at first.

Maude.
I told you to keep up a fire, you dunce!

Alfred.
(clutching her by the wrist)
You should have seen the fire I kept up once—
(Maude slightly alarmed)
On Guthrum's troops! (checking himself)
Back! back! incautious cat!
You were observing—

Maude.
Yes! observing that—
Look at the stove—half black—a pretty state!

Alfred.
(aside)
Half black the stove, and I Alf-red the Grate!
I shall betray myself. (to Maude)
It will soon catch—
That is, if I can only find my match.
There! just observe me set the bellows going—
Here we are—all a blowing—all a glowing!

(sits on a stool, blowing fire)
Exit Maude, D. in flat.—Alfred, alone, puts on apron, &c..
Alfred.
Yes! to a monarch in my situation—
The only policy is resignation.
(proceeds to put different articles of pastry into the oven, in a business-like manner)
Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which, like this currant bun, though hard and dry,
And difficult to chew, howe'er you grind it,
Is worth a plum, (inspects bun critically)
if one could only find it!
But now a king—now thus! But yesterday
A mighty realm acknowledged Alfred's sway.
A kingly diadem embraced this head.
Now—how the gilt's come off that gingerbread!
(looks at a piece of gingerbread)
The poet's fame—the lover's joy were mine.
My last flirtation with the tuneful Nine
Sold six impressions—gratis copies none of them!
How the press buttered it! (sees a piece of paper under some cakes on a tin)
By Jove! here's one of them! (shoves it angrily aside)

Yet my worst trial—my severest smart—
Unfeeling Elswith— (looks at a small queen cake)
what a small queen's heart!—
Was thy desertion on our wedding day
That should have been. In-doors how could I stay!
The ruthless Danes were on us ten to one—
I was obliged to make a Sally—Lunn.
(action of peel)
To think I'd sneaked away to save myself—
To fly and leave that note upon the shelf,
Whose withering words have dimmed my manhood's lustre.
My heart! my heart! Down, palpitating buster!

(falls, overcome by his feelings, on a large loaf on the table, and remains sobbing, R.)
An old Beggar Man in rags, enters at back, and raps with a penny on the counter.
Old M.
Shop!

Alfred.
(not moving)
Bother!

Old M.
Want-ed!

Alfred.
Call again! Eh! Stop!
I'd best mind this—and sink my former shop.
Let a gay mask conceal the pangs I suffer—
(skips behind counter in a lively shop-boy style)
What can I serve you with, respected buffer?
(tosses different specimens of cakes, &c., about the counter as he speaks)
Anything in the plain or fancy line?
Our brandy-snaps are thought extremely fine.
Or let me strew some crackers in your path,
A Chelsea bun—No? Then we'll go to Bath!

Old M.
(amused)
I'faith, young man, you'd set one at one's ease,
But these are not the times for luxuries.

Alfred.
Something in plain goods, eh? Then take your pick,
(strewing small loaves on counter)
Or let me for you—There's a jolly brick!
Or go at once to twopence—don't be shabby,
See—that's the famous roll of Battle Abbey!

Old M.
(laughing)
Nay! nay! a white loaf's price would knock me down!

Alfred.
So poor as that? Then catch! (throws him a loaf)
It's my last brown!
But in your state of impecuniosity,
(coming down)
'Tis yours free gratis.

Old M.
(changing his tone of voice)
Kingly generosity!
A deed that shall perpetuate your name,
On Pinnock's highest Pinnac-le of fame;
In letters of the purest gold designed,
By history's own Goldsmith—

Alfred.
Now that's kind.
Of course the circumstance need ne'er be known,
That the presented loaf was not my own?

Old M.
A bagatelle!

Alfred.
Then may I beg to learn
Who the small prophet is—this quick return
That promises?

Old M.
With that I'll soon acquaint you.

(crosses, R.)
(chord—his disguise flies off; he appears as Merlin the Enchanter)
Alfred.
(L.)
Oh! my prophetic soul! you're Zadkiel, arn't you?

Merlin.
Get out! I'm Merlin!

Alfred.
(incredulously)
Merlin! stop a bit!
Don't say a word, that might yourself commit—
You're talking to King Alfred!

Merlin.
(R.)
Well, I know him!

Alfred.
(L.)
Then mind—I've read my next great namesake's poem,
Which proved how naughty Vivian—fair as clever,
Sent Merlin—ages back—to sleep for ever!

Merlin.
Alfred the Greater, listen. Butts of sherry
And public praise, are apt to make folks merry;
Your laureate did but joke—I'm wide awake,
And a few incantations come to make.
Have you a cauldron—just for half a minute?

Alfred.
(producing a cauldron from L.)
Here's this! but we've been boiling alum in it!

Merlin.
The very thing! 'twill but improve the flavour!
(Alfred places cauldron over trap, L.—Merlin waves his wand)
Now, Spirits, just oblige me as a favour,
Come high, or low—show in official shape!

The Apparition of a small Government Clerk rises, with a huge piece of red tape in his hand.
1st Apparition.
Al-fred! Al-fred! Al-fred! Beware red tape!
Beware diplomacy and all such stuff;
Dismiss me—on a pension, please—enough!

(descends)
Alfred.
(R.)
Whoe'er thou art, for this good caution, thanks!

Merlin.
(C.)
Hold! let me raise another from the ranks!

The Apparition of an armed Rifleman rises.
2nd App.
Al-fred! Al-fred! Al-fred! Be firm and bold.
Have any quantity of us enrolled;
Don't snub us—but encourage us to arm,
And none of woman born shall England harm!

(descends)
Alfred.
Then, Guthrum, live! Of thee what need to fear!
Still I don't want to have him living here.
How from henceforth to keep invaders far—
The Apparition of a small Sailor rises, with a model frigate on his head.
What's this that rises with a smell of tar?
And bears upon its baby forehead's tip,
A model of the new Victoria ship?

3rd App.
Be iron metall'd—screw propell'd—steel-plated,
Take thou no care where plots are incubated;
England shall never with invasion meet,
So long as she keeps up a channel fleet!

(descends)
Alfred.
Good gracious! If we'd thought of that before—
Yet tell me one thing—

Merlin.
Seek to know no more!

Taps Alfred on head with wand and disappears—the cauldron sinks.
Alfred.
Why sinks that cauldron? Is this all a joke?
Where's the enchanter? And what's all this smoke?
Have I been dreaming of the future learning?
What could it mean? And what's this smell of burning?
Methought I was a Scottish king—with vassals,
Kernes, gallowglasses, gillies, duniewassels,
Consulting witches at their midnight work
Around a crackling fire— (sniffs)
it's like roast pork!
They promised things that did my spirits rouse and fire;
(seeing smoke come from the oven)
Which it's the batch—a blazing like a house on fire!
(runs to oven door, wrenches it open, a cloud of smoke comes from it)
Get out! (slams oven door)
It's not to be put out, I see,
Would I could say the same of Mrs. D!
What's to become of me? Where shall I run?
I am afraid to think what I have done;
And done too much; look on't again, I'm loath—
A king and baker too—one can't make both.
(vacantly)
Make both! what Caledonian sprite or wraith
Prompted my tongue to sound the words, “Mak' baith!”
“Mak' baith! Mak' baith! Mak' baith!” oh, pack of stuff!
Again it says—“Beware—how ye Mak'-dough!”
These fiery scenes have made my senses wander;
E'en now I feel as though in Scotland yonder.
The land of gallowglasses and of kernes,
(pointing tragically to oven)
The land of cakes and of immortal Burns!
Horror! that well-known footstep's dreaded sound,
For well it tells me I'm on English ground;
As soon in roundest Saxon she'll inform me,
I'm all a shiver—never mind—she'll warm me!

(stands before oven, L.)
Enter Maude at back, D. in F.
Maude.
(R.)
Bless those dear Danes—what appetites they've got!
These fêtes will clear the shop out, stock and lot.
Out with the batch! (seeing Alfred frightened)
You good for nothing plague, you,
What are you trembling with?

Alfred.
(L.)
The quartern ague!
Madam, the batch has met, I grieve to say,
A trifling accident! (Maude makes a furious gesture)
Be calm, I pray!
In the best families they will take place—
Remember the Atlantic cable's case;
That was a twist 'bout which to make a coil,
And what's our stock of gingerbread to spoil;
Suppose Guy Fawkes—not foiled in his intent—
Had blown up all the British parliament?
Sweet maids of honour will get over toasted,
Even the poet Bunn's been too much roasted!

Maude.
(pulling him away from oven)
Sophist! stand back!

(crosses to L.)
Alfred.
(R.)
I soon shall stand corrected
So-fistically!

Maude.
(opening oven)
So! as I suspected;
I can't find words—you oaf! you lazy loon!
But you shall catch it to a pretty tune!

(she throws a quartern loaf, which Alfred adroitly catches, and brings forward to her expostulating)
Air.—Alfred.—“Pray Goody.”
Pray, Goody, please to calculate the missile you have flung,
Might smash a party's skull of twice my size;
Remember, certain heads are weak, and certain arms are strong
A stranger's bones for bread why pulverize?
Shy me!
Try me!
Take what I've saved by me—
Scold or “sauce” me,
Charge or toss me,
For your damaged pies!
But, Goody, cease to imitate the weapon called Armstrong,
A breast-work slight as mine to pulverize!

(Maude bursts into tears)
Enter Dunulf and Headred, D. in F.
Dun.
(coming down R.)
What's this?

Maude.
(L.)
You brute! this floor you ne'er set foot upon,
Except as now, to see your poor wife put upon.

(she attacks Alfred with a rolling pin)
Dun.
“Give it him, wife, and never mind his fretting;
He wants a taste of what I'm always getting”

Enter Oddune and Soldiers hastily at back, D. in F.
Odd.
Up, lads, and at 'em!
(strikes up Maude's rolling pin—the Guards overpower Dunulf and Headred. Tableau)
Now, what's this about?
Come mother Brownrigg—let's hear you—speak out!
What's your excuse for turning 'prentice beater?
(patting Alfred on his head)
Don't be afraid, my lad! I'm not Sir Peter!

Alfred.
(R. C., aside, sobbing)
My faithful Devon!

Odd.
(patting his shoulder)
Come! we're here to free you!

Alfred.
(unable to control himself any longer)
Devon, my boy, I'm Devonish glad to see you.

(leaps spasmodically into Oddune's arms, to the great astonishment of that officer)
Odd.
(C.)
That voice—those limbs—that kingly air—yes—no!
It is King Alfred!

(chord)
Maude.
(falling on her knees, L.)
Murder!

Dun.
(falling on his knees, R.)
Here's a go!

Maude
(pointing to Dunulf)
He set me on, sire!

Dun.
(pointing to Maude)
'Twas by her direction.

Alfred.
(C. regally holding out his hand to be kissed)
Good people, rise, and count on our protection!
(to Oddune)
No explanations, spare us further shocks.
State the best news—and what's the price of stocks?

Odd.
This news will raise the stocks, sire, I'll be bound,
In every English village—by the pound.
Now is the time for help—your eye—you'll find it—
Will create soldiers.

Alfred.
(looking at the small army)
Then I'd better mind it
If these are all we've left. How Fate would frown upon them,
Were there but forty sentries looking down upon them.
But have we ne'er a strong-hold left?

Odd.
(R. C.)
I doubt
We've aught that's e'en a week old.

Alfred.
Holds not out
Our cloistered Athelney?

Odd.
(aside)
How'll he receive it?
Yes, it was holding out when I did leave it;
Or rather, hanging out—most royally.

Alfred.
So! they've not touched the royal property,
Our favourite pleasaunce, flanked by elm trees tall,
So full of walks, we'd christened it, waux-hall!
Where erst we wandered far from courts and camps,
'Neath the cool shadows cast by extra lamps;
Where soothing punch, lost peace of mind brought back,
When we had set our minds upon the rack!
The hermit's cave—half screened from vulgar sight,
Where right at anchor, sat our anchorite
In solitary state! Stop, that's a blunder,
There were more ancore-ites at the Rotunda
To hear the singing. Then the platform vast!
Where the proceedings were a leetle fast.
And, oh, the scenes within that fairy ring,
I shall again be master of—!

Odd.
(R.)
Great king,
Your mind this flattering vision dispossess of it,
And learn the truth at once.

Alfred.
Humph! I've a guess of it.

Odd.
Vauxhall is taken in distress; your grounds
Turned to a kennel for the Danish hounds;
The traitor, Edric, has betrayed the wicket,
And passed the foeman in without a ticket;
To-night they revel there with feast and clamour;
To-morrow brings the gardens to the hammer.

(Alfred is overcome à la Macduff)
Maude.
Nay, never pull your cap, man, o'er your brow.

Alfred.
You have no garden—Maude, so hold your row.
What, all my slender chickens and thin ham
At one fell swoop!

Odd.
Be firm, my liege!

Alfred.
I am,
I swear, alone—unaided—in disguise;
This last bespeak, the king shall patronise—
Ask not my scheme. To-night I play the spy
In Guthrum's tents—first step to victory;
To lead my followers—

Odd.
Who are they?

Alfred.
(excited)
Who?
Why you—and you—and you—and you—and you.
The first man we appeal to—

Dun.
(R., enthusiastically)
'Cod! I'm willing!

Head.
(L.)
And I!

Alfred.
Fall in! we'll owe you each a shilling!
E'en women to our standard would repair.

Maude.
(L. C.)
Who can resist him? Here's for Vivandière!

(pulls up her skirt by a tape, puts on an oilskin hat, slings a cask over her shoulder, and stands equipped as a “Daughter of the Regiment”)
Alfred.
Song and Chorus.—Air, “Villikins and his Dinah.”
(stops reflectingly)
Air changes to “Dumble dum deary.”

They march off at D. in F. as scene closes in.