 | The Happy Land |  |
1. Part First.
Scene: A FAIRY LANDSCAPE ON THE BACK OF A CLOUD.[The Earth is seen as a terrestrial globe through a rent in the cloud. Entrance to a large public building with portico, L. Statues of fairy-like beings, R. and L. Trees, fountains, &c.]
[Zayda and Fairies discovered grouped about stage. Zayda is standing on an eminence at back, looking at the Earth through a large telescope.]
Zayda and Darine.
Lullaby Fairyland,
On the clouds blown about;
By the soft zephyrs fann'd,
Nothing to moan about.
We know not vanity,
Ne'er dream of wedding rings;
Men doubt our sanity,
Poor foolish things!
Chorus.
Our little feet we never show,
We've never heard of Rotten Row.
D'you think we care,
To live in Eaton Square?
Oh, we're such sweet and simple girls,
We never set our caps at Earls.
We even wear
Our own—our own—back hair!
Dear sister Zayda, our three brothers have been absent
on that wicked world for nearly three weeks. Is there no
sign of their return?
Zay.
None whatever.
Dar.
Can you see them?
Zay.
Distinctly.
Dar.
What are they doing?
Zay.
They appear to be dancing on an Oriental platform, illuminated
by ten thousand additional lamps. They are expressing
their detestation of the wickedness of the world in a Parisian
quadrille!
Dar.
Poor fellows; what agonies they seem to be undergoing!
See how they fling their arms about in horror at the abominations
that surround them; their arms are insufficient to express their
indignation, and up go their legs as well! In a paroxysm of virtuous
indignation, Ethais seizes a young woman round the waist,
and endeavours to whirl her away from the scene of wickedness
that surrounds them. But in vain! A policeman comes up;
he is collared and led away. Thus are the champions of propriety
maltreated whenever they endeavour to raise their voices against
the improprieties of that wicked, wicked world.
Enter Selene, L. U. E.
Sel.
Nonsense!
Dar.
Nonsense!
Sel.
Nonsense, my dears; I've watched them very carefully
since they went to Earth, and I've come to the conclusion that
their report of it is not to be depended upon. I daresay it's a
very wicked world, but I don't believe it's half as bad as they
make it out to be. If it is, why are they always wanting to go
there?
Dar.
True; and, when they do go, why do they stop so
long?
Zay.
Oh, I'm sure they can't like it. They always return
with the most dreadful headaches.
Dar.
Yes, and I've seen them so overcome by worldly influences
that they have had the very greatest difficulty in walking straight.
Zay.
Poor fellows, they have been run in by a mortal policeman;
only think of that!
Have they? Then depend upon it they'll return to
Fairyland at once.
(Looking towards Earth)
—Ha, they are on their
way. Let us conceal ourselves and hear what they have to say.
[The Fairies retire.
Enter Ethais, Phyllon and Lutin, through the gap, as if returning from Earth.
Eth.
Up in the clouds again. Once more at home—
Phyl.
In our slow, steady-going Fairyland!
Lut.
Compelled to be in bed by half-past six,
To rise at five, to breakfast, dine and sup
On apple-blossoms dressed in curds and whey,
Here is a dismal state of things for one
Who for the last three weeks on yonder Earth
Has drained the cup of pleasure to the dregs!
Here is a state of things for one—
Phyl.
Oh, drop it!
Lut.
Oh, drop what?
Phyl.
Blank verse. During my spell on Earth I learnt to
speak prose, and I prefer it. Oh, its a jolly world.
Lut.
Ah! what dinners one gets down there. There's a
certain dish called chops that beats our fairy food into fits; and
they've a peculiar kind of nectar known as “bottled stout,”
which makes a fairy's hair curl to think of.
Phyl.
Oh, that's something like a world. No need for wings
down there, where omnibuses from all parts pass every door.
Men think it an advantage to have wings, but they never tried
'em. Only try and lean back in an arm chair with a pair of
wings on, and you're crippled for life. No, no; give me a
country where all one's flying is done for one.
Eth.
And then their women! Now I call them something
like women. What pains they take to please us! How they plot
and plan to tickle our tastes. What pains they take to paint
their cheeks, because we like 'em red; to darken their eyes,
because we like 'em black; to bleach their hair, because we like
it white; to pull in their waists, because we like 'em small!
Lut.
Ah! and what sums they spend on their back hair,
because we like a lot of it. Now that's true modesty. Why I
know a really pretty girl down there who's so dissatisfied with
her personal appearance, that she devotes five or six hours every
up here, who are so pleased with what nature has done for them,
that it never occurs to them that it can be improved upon.
Phil.
But, I say—not a word about all this to any of our
sisters up here, or they'll be wanting to go too.
Eth.
No, no; we must keep up the illusion that the world
is a detestable place.
Phyl.
An abandoned hole, where dissipation of every kind
reigns supreme—ah, and so it does.
Lut.
And that only a strict sense of duty
(holding his head.)
Eth.
Combined with a laudable thirst for information,
Phyl.
Reconcile us to a destiny which compels us to pay it a
visit from time to time.
Trio—Ethais, Phyllon and Lutin.
Eth.
We are three unhappy fairies,
Doomed to flit from flower to flower;
Phyl.
And our one engrossing care is
To improve each shining hour.
Lut.
We're so good that for our dinners,
We get only lotus leaf;
Don't we envy earthly sinners,
Fed on pure New Zealand beef!
Chorus.
Oh, we're three most wretched fairies,
Bored to death by every flower;
With our smile that never varies,
Don't we hate the shining hour!
Phyl.
We ne'er see the morning papers,
Tho' we rise at break of day;
Lut.
To cut idiotic capers,
And on clouds at leap-frog play.
Chorus.
—Oh, we're three, &c.
Eth.
So we drag out our existence,
Wearing our perpetual smiles;
Lut.
Wishing we could span the distance,
And retire to Seven Dials.
Chorus.
—Oh, we're three, &c.
Sel.
So, sir, you are back again at last?
Eth.
Back again to enjoy the pure delights of this blameless
land—
(mournfully)
Ecstacy!
Phyl.
Joy!
(very dismally).
Lut.
Rapture!
(very dismally).
Eth.
Oh, we've had an awful time of it!
Phyl.
Fearful!
Lut.
Oh, the wickedness of the world, its artfulness, its
deceptions!
Phyl.
The repulsiveness of its women!
Eth.
The inferior quality of its champagne!
Lut.
Its evening parties—its picnics—its Derby days—its
flirtations—its theatricals—its Ritualistic services—its elopements
—its marriages—and its divorces.
Phyl.
Such goings on—oh! lor!
Sel.
And you—you poor ethereal beings voluntarily take
upon yourselves to associate with these loathsome souls—you
have to mix with them—to eat with them—to drink with them—
The Three.
We have—we have.
Sel.
While we remain up here, basking in the sunshine of
eternal idleness!
The Three.
You do—you do.
Sel.
And shall we—shall we, I say, permit you to take this
fearful burden on your ethereal shoulders?
The Three.
You shall—you shall.
Sel.
I beg your pardon—we shall not. No; we are not quite
selfish—we will go to Earth next time.
Eth.
But—
Sel.
No use talking, we have made up our minds.
Fairies.
We have—we have.
Lut.
(aside to his brothers).
Here, but I say, this won't do, you
know.
(aloud).
My dear sisters, my very dear sisters, don't be
rash; you don't know what you are undertaking. It's not a
place for ladies; no respectable young woman would be seen on
the world on any consideration.
Dar.
But we are resolved. To be quite plain with you, we
believe the world isn't so black as it's painted.
Sel.
We find it very dull up here, and we mean to try a
change.
Phyl.
But, it's an awful world!
It's not so bad as this. At any rate, down there the
balance of the sexes is about equal.
Zay.
Such a humdrum life as we spend up here! Up at five.
Nothing to do but sing, and fly from tree to tree like ridiculous
dicky-birds. Nothing to eat but fruit—and this has been a very
bad fruit year. Nothing to drink but water—
Lut.
Well, it's been a very good water year.
Sel.
It's no use; we are determined to see what mortal men
are like.
Lut.
Stop, I've a plan. You can do that, without going down
to them.
Sel.
How?
Lut.
Bring 'em up to you. We'll go to Earth, and ask our
monarch, who is in England just now, to send up three mortals
in our places, and then you can judge for yourselves.
Sel.
(delighted).
What, send them up here?
Lut.
Up here.
Dar.
Three of 'em?
Lut.
Three of 'em.
Zay.
And if we like 'em, we can send for some more?
Lut.
As many more as you like.
Sel.
Capital; go and send them up directly.
Zay.
But what is our monarch doing in England?
Phyl.
He's studying political economy; they're famous for it
in England. He's there as a guest of royalty.
Dar.
As a guest of royalty! And which—oh, which, of the
royal palaces is placed at his disposal?
Phyl.
It's called “Claridge's Hotel.”
Sel.
Do they put up their royal guests at an hotel?
Lut.
Invariably: it's found to be the most politically economical
course they can adopt.
Dar.
But it must be rather an expensive process in the end.
Isn't political economy the same thing as social economy?
Lut.
Quite the reverse. Social economy means spending a
penny to save a pound. Political economy is spending a pound
to save a penny. Now then, off we go.
Quintett and Chorus.
Zayda.
Send us up from yonder wicked den,
Three very wicked men—
Or six, or eight, or ten.
We only wish, as proper fairies should,
To see them grow
Up amiable and good.
Zayda.
They'll have to leave all joy that enervates
—All flower shows and fêtes,
All gas and water rates.
Omnes.
Oh, do go down, and hurry up
These poor dear wicked men!
Phyllon.
What, from that world! where all deceives!
Where man's so steeped in vice,
He makes cigars of cabbage leaves,
And lives on penny ice!
Ethais.
Where literature is light and cheap,
And coals extremely dear!
Where tragedy produces sleep—
Burlesque—a manly tear!
Lutin.
Oh, it's such a wicked world down there!
Such allurements for the eye!
There's a paradise called Leicester Square,
All walled in ten feet high.
Omnes.
(repeat.)
Oh, what a wicked world. &c.
(Then original strain.)
Still we want from yonder wicked den, &c.
(At the end Ethais, Phyllon and Lutin descend.)
Neodie.
There, now we've done it.
Zay.
Oh! oh! please—please—I'm frightened.
Dar.
Oh! I wish we hadn't done it. What is going to happen?
Locrine.
Oh, I don't want any men up here. I don't like the
idea—at least I do like it, but it's wrong.
Neod.
Oh! we shall all be as bad as men and women are,
and fairyland won't be fairyland any longer.
Zay.
Then men will infect our atmosphere, and we shall all
become great, coarse, hulking men.
Sel.
Nonsense! listen to me. The world is a very unhappy
one, taken all round, but our brothers are going to send us up
three Englishmen. Now England is an exception to every rule.
in. I have heard that it is the pride of the ocean; the home of
the brave and the free. People tell me that it's a right little,
tight little island. Rumour says that its natives always strike
home, and that they never, never, never will, on any consideration,
be slaves!
Loc.
They are quite right.
Zay.
And what is the reason of this singular pre-eminence
over the rest of the world?
Sel.
With all their wickedness, with all their sin,
They have one great and ever-glorious gift
That compensates for every ill. It's called
A Popular Government, whose ministers,
Chosen exclusively upon the score
Of intellectual pre-eminence,
Are posted to such offices as they,
By dint of long and arduous 'prenticeship,
Have shown themselves to be most fitted for.
Their War-Office is governed (without doubt)
By some stout warrior whose dinted helm
Has danced triumphant through a thousand fights.
Their Admiralty (p'raps) is piloted
By some First Lord whose bosom bears the scars
Of fifty tough sea-battles—whose renown
For well-trained pluck and cunning seamanship
Points to him as the man of all mankind
To rule a Navy that shall rule the world.
And of all marvels the most marvellous,
Their First Commissioner of Public Works
Is (in all human probability)
A minister whose exquisite good taste,
Whose polished wit, whose cultured courtesy,
Form the incessant and exhaustless theme
Of those delighted men of Art, whose works
Are subject to his scholarly review!
Zay.
Oh for one hour of such a government
To set us all to rights! Why, after all,
Great Britain is the type of Fairyland!
Sel.
Exactly, and my object in bringing the three mortals to
Fairyland is to ascertain from them, if possible, the principles
introduce them, if possible, into our Fairyland.
Dar.
Oh! happiness!
Zay.
Oh! extacy!
Sel.
But, hush! they are here. Let us watch them unobserved.
[Exeunt Selene and Fairies.
(The mortals, Mr. G., Mr. L. and Mr. A., come up trap.
Trio, Mr. G., Mr. L. and Mr. A.
Mr. G.
We are three statesmen old and tried,
I know what I'm about!
Mr. L.
And I all figures—facts deride!
All precedent I scout.
Mr. A.
And I love rows here, I love rows there,
Here a row, there a row,
Everywhere a row!
Still we are three most popular men.
(defiantly, with a swagger.)
I'd like to know who'll turn us out.
Chorus.
Oh, we are three most popular men!
We want to know who'll turn us out!
Mr. G.
Once on a time, what I now think is wrong,
I thought was right.
Mr. L.
And I know some arithmetic—and
(indicating him)
Lutin was polite!
Mr. A.
With politeness here, and politeness there,
Here polite, there polite,
Everywhere polite.
(obsequiously)
With a low bow here, and a low bow there,
Here a bow, there a bow,
Everywhere a bow.
(jauntily)
With a bit of hauteur here, and a bit of hauteur there,
Here a haw! there a haw!
Everywhere a haw.
(energetically)
With a good row here, and a good row there,
Here a row, there a row,
Everywhere a row!
That no one cares to turn us out!
Chorus.
And so being three most popular men,
(defiantly)
We want to know who'll turn us out!
Mr. G.
Our foreign policy
Is philosophical and plain.
Mr. L.
It's simply this—when we get hit
We don't hit back again.
Mr. A.
But we get a kick here, get a kick there,
Here a kick, there a kick,
Everywhere a kick!
Mr. G.
With a good snub here, a good snub there,
Here a snub, there a snub,
Everywhere a snub!
Mr. L.
Save a ha'penny here, save a ha'penny there,
Here a save, there a save,
Everywhere a save!
Omnes.
Still we are three most popular men,
And want to know who'll turn us out!
Mr. L.
Why, where in the world are we?
Mr. G.
Where out of the world are we?
Mr. A.
What an awful place! What taste in Art!
Mr. L.
What lavish expenditure! Oh, lor! Statues to public
benefactors! What ridiculous extravagance.
Mr. A.
Solid marble temple! Here's waste! Put marble to
such purposes as these! What's to become of brick and stucco,
I should like to know? Now then, the question is, being here,
what are we to do? We appeal, sir, to you.
Mr. L.
We appeal, sir, to you.
Mr. G.
It is perfectly clear to me, gentlemen, that there are
three courses open to us.
Mr. L., Mr. A.
Hear, hear!
Mr. G.
Firstly, to return to Earth at once. Secondly, not to
return to Earth at once. Thirdly—thirdly—hum—ha—yes!
there must be a third course, though upon my word I don't see
what it is. Hullo! who are these?
Sel.
We are fairies.
Mr. G.
(surveying Selene.)
Thirdly, to remain where we are.
I move that the third course be adopted.
Mr. A.
Carried nem. con.
Sel.
(looking at Mr. G.)
How beautiful!
Dar.
(looking at Mr. L.)
How intellectual!
Zay.
(looking at Mr. A.)
How gentlemanly!
Sel.
(to Mr. G.)
Here is a man who would look upon an
insult to his country as an insult to himself.
Dar.
(to Mr. L.)
Here is a person who is generous to the
limits of extravagance.
Zay.
(to Mr. A.)
Here is an individual whose taste in Art is
about equal to his courtesy to its professors.
Mr. A.
Bless my soul, they've hit us off to a T.
Sel.
I hope and trust, that in bringing you up here we have
not put you to any great inconvenience.
Mr. G.
Well, to tell you the truth, you interrupted us at a most
important cabinet council; the honor of the kingdom is at stake,
and we were deliberating on the best means of saving it.
Mr. L.
On the most economical terms.
Dar.
But, what was the difficulty?
Mr. G.
Why this. The King of Bonny—of whom I desire to
speak with the utmost respect—has laid claim to Scotland.
(Mr. L. begins to dance a Highland Fling violently— Mr. G. checks him.)
Mu. A.
Impulsive boy! but a convert is always an enthusiast.
Mr. G.
Well, the King of Bonny has laid claim to Scotland—
the question is, “What is to be done?” Now, it is quite clear
that there are three courses open to us. Firstly, to give it up,
unhesitatingly. Secondly, to implore him not to press his claim.
Thirdly, to—
Sel.
To fight for it!
All.
Oh, dear, no! Oh, no—no—no!
Mr. G.
Oh, dear, no—no! Thirdly, to refer the matter to
arbitration.
Sel.
What is arbitration?
Mr. A.
Arbitration, my dear, is that conscious power which
enables the strong man to take to his heels in the face of danger.
Now, we were just debating which of the three we should
adopt, when you interrupted us. What will our brother ministers
think of our desertion at such an hour?
Zay.
I don't think you'll be missed.
Mr. G.
That may be, but it isn't pretty to say so.
Mr. A.
(to Zayda).
You mustn't talk like that; I've a monopoly
of that kind of repartee, and I can't allow it to be intruded upon.
It amounts to a breach of privilege.
Mr. L.
Now, perhaps, you'll tell us why you've brought us up
here?
Sel.
Certainly. We understand the people of Great Britain
are distinguished from the rest of the world by the possession of
a certain inestimable blessing called a popular government.
All.
You are right.
Sel.
A blessing which they appreciate and value beyond all
price.
Mr. A.
Well,
(hesitating)
some people never know when they're
well off.
Dar.
And we have brought you here that you may initiate us
into all its mysteries.
Zay.
So just begin at once, and look sharp about it; we can't
stop shilly-shallying here all day.
Mr. A.
Now, upon my word, this is too bad; I really cannot and
will not allow my private and exclusive forms of repartee to be
trespassed upon in this manner. Upon my word, it really is
nothing short of a breach of privilege.
Mr. L.
Bear with her—remember she is wholly unacquainted
with the decencies of refined society.
Mr. G.
Now, the first thing to be done is to divide you into two
great groups—one called Ministerial, the other Opposition.
(The Fairies divide and range themselves R. and L. in two parties).
Mr. A.
Very good—you
(to R. party)
are the Government. You
(to L. party)
are the Opposition. Very well, the Opposition go
out—out you go.
Leila.
Go out! What, mayn't we stop and hear what's going on?
Mr. A.
Admit the Opposition to the Ministerial conferences!
Whoever heard of such a thing? No, no—when the Government
come in the Opposition go out. It's the rule; come, off you go.
Leila.
Well, I don't think much of the Government.
[Exit with Fairies.
The leader of the Opposition never does. Now we must
distribute portfolios. Who will be Premier?
All.
I—I—I—
Mr. L.
Stop—stop! we must settle this by competitive examination.
(The three men sit L. The Fairies range themselves in semicircle R.)
Mr. G.
Now then,
(to Zayda)
are you jealous of your country's
honour?
Zay.
No, not particularly.
Mr. G.
Very good.
Mr. L.
Would you submit to an insult rather than strike a
blow?
Zay.
Decidedly, as long as the insult was only aimed at my
country.
All the Men.
Very good indeed; admirable.
Mr. G.
If, by dint of sheer mismanagement on your part, your
country had to submit to an unparalleled series of humiliations
in the eyes of surrounding nations, and you were called upon by
the unanimous voice of the people to give place to a more able
person, what would you do?
Zay.
I should resign.
The Three Men.
Oh, dear, no! Oh, no, no! That wouldn't
do on any account.
(to Darine)
What would you do?
Dar.
Promise not to do so any more.
The Three.
No, no; oh, dear, no!
Mr. G.
Never make a promise you don't intend to keep. You?
(To the next. She doesn't answer).
You?
(She shakes her head.)
(Selene puts up her hand to show she has an answer ready).
You
—you—you?
(All shake their heads).
You?
(To Selene.)
Sel.
Please, sir, I know. If through my sheer mismanagement
my country were involved in a series of unparalleled
humiliations, and I were unanimously called upon to resign—
The Three Men.
Yes, yes!
Sel.
Why, it seems to me, that in such a case there would be
three courses open to me.
The Three.
Take her down; take her down.
(Selene goes to the top of the class, next the footlights. ... Mr. G. goes up to her and shakes her hand.)
(shaking her hand).
My dear, allow me. It is quite clear
that you are a heaven-born Premier.
(Gives her portfolio with “First Lord of the Treasury” inscribed on it. She takes it, and falls out of the class.)
Mr. A.
Now then! Examination for First Lord of the Admiralty.
(To Darine).
What's the average cost of a first-class ironclad
ship?
Zay.
Five hundred pounds.
Mr. A.
No. Next.
Dar.
Five-and-twenty.
Mr. A.
Next.
Next Fairy.
Fifty thousand.
Mr. A.
Next.
Next Fairy.
Don't know.
Mr. A.
Very good, but not quite right. Next.
(to Darine.)
Dar.
Please, sir, a first-class ironclad what?
All the Men.
Ship, my dear—ship, ship.
Dar.
(innocently).
Please, sir, what is a ship?
Mr. A.
Here's a First Lord ready made! Take 'em all down.
(Gives her portfolio labelled “First Lord of the Admiralty.” Darine goes to top of class.)
Dar.
But, please, sir, I don't know anything about ships!
Mr. A.
My dear, its one of the beautiful principles of our system
of government never to appoint anybody to any post to which he
is at all fitted. Our government offices are so many elementary
schools for the instruction of ministers. To take a minister who
knows his duties, and to send him to an elementary school to
learn them, is an obvious waste of educational power. Nature
has pointed you out as eminently qualified for First Lord of the
Admiralty, because you don't know anything about ships. You
take office—you learn all about ships—and when you know all
about ships, the Opposition comes in, out you go, and somebody
else, who doesn't know anything about ships, comes in and takes
your place. That's how we educate our ministers.
(Darine retires with portfolio labelled “First Lord of the Admiralty.”)
Mr. L.
Now then! Chancellor of the Exchequer.
(to Locrine.)
Twice two?
Locr.
Four.
Mr. L.
No! Next; twice two?
Nothing!
Mr. L.
Better, but not right. Next; twice two?
Neod.
Three or five, according to circumstances.
Mr. L.
Take 'em all down.
(She goes to top of class. He gives her portfolio labelle “Chancellor of the Exchequer,” and she retires with it.)
Mr. G.
Now then! Secretary of State for War. Who faints at
the sight of blood?
Locr.
I do.
Mr. G.
Allow me.
(Gives her portfolio labelled “Secretary of State
for War.”)
Who can't read?
Next Fairy.
I can't.
Mr. G.
President of Committee of Council on Education.
Zay.
(the only one left).
Here; but, I say, what's to become of
me? You appoint people to posts because they know nothing
about them. Well, I know nothing about anything. Rude am I in
speech, and little blessed with the set phrase of peace. I've no
taste, I've no courtesy, I've no knowledge of Art, and if you don't
give me something to do, I'll make the country too hot to hold
you.
Mr. A.
(bowing very low, and handing her a portfolio).
Allow me;
we have the very thing for you—First Commissioner of Public
Works.
Finale to Part First.
Dar.
By playing loose and fast,
I will govern them, be sure;
The talisman of all good luck at last is ours.
We'll happy be at last,
For ever, evermore.
Chorus.
We'll happy be at last,
Three Rht. Hons.
Not never any more. Repeated.
Zay.
I shall dreaded be,
Wait and you shall see,
Everlasting snubbing,
Drubbing.
Treading on its toes;
Wait and you shall see,
How I'll dreaded be.
Mr. G.
With joyous acclamation,
And joyous tral-lal-la;
We'll elevate the nation,
While singing tral-lal-la.
| The Happy Land | |