Chapter 2
SCENE.--_Grand saloon of the Divan._ L. _Doors leading to the Emperor's apartment._ R. _Doors leading to_ TURANDOT'S _Hareem_. _Black slaves discovered, engaged in setting the saloon in order;_ TRUFFALDIN _majestically directing them_.
TRUF.
Come, look alive! His Majesty's Divan Will soon assemble. Now, look sharp, my man! A carpet for this throne; here sits her Highness; Bring brooms, and sweep up all this horrid dry mess.
(_Enter_ BRIGHELLA, _looking around wonderingly_.)
BRIG.
I say, Truffaldin, what's this grand array? The high Divan again--twice in one day?
TRUF. (_without minding him_).
Eight seats here for the doctors! They're all muffs, But look imposing in their brocade stuffs.
BRIG.
Truffaldin, do you hear? What is the matter?
TRUF.
How dare you make such a confounded clatter? You stupid, don't you know the whole Divan Are called to meet as quickly as they can? Another suitor for my mistress' heart Is anxious from his silly head to part.
BRIG.
For shame! Three hours ago one victim fell.
TRUF.
This new pretender seems a precious swell. His curly poll will grace the hangman's pole, A charming barber's block, upon my soul! 'Twill cut a figure in our "_Rotten Row_;" I think that jest is witty--Ho, ho, ho!
BRIG.
Your soul in blackness with your visage vies-- You grin whene'er a fellow-creature dies.
TRUF.
You jackanapes! None of your paltry spite; My heart's not black,--your liver 'tis that's white; So hold your jaw. Why should I grieve to see That men for love such arrant fools can be? The more the merrier; for on each day, Our Princess 'scapes a husband's dreaded sway; She gives us all a good jollification, Besides munificent gratification.
BRIG.
How barbarous.
TRUF.
Now, don't you be so silly. Her suitors are not dragged here willy-nilly; They know the journey here their heads may cost 'em, But 'tis no loss; for they've already lost 'em. Perhaps that's why the riddles they can't guess, And always fall into a hideous mess. I'm sure my charming mistress is most lenient To have devised a method so convenient To rid herself, and China, of such geese; Much harder tasks,--to fetch the golden fleece-- Or singing water--or the talking bird-- Were formerly exacted, as I've heard. My lovely Highness is not so inhuman, She only tests her sweethearts' fine acumen; And if she must submit to husband's rule, At least she'll not be governed by a fool.
(_March music is heard._)
BRIG.
The royal trumpets sound. Hark, don't you hear 'em.
TRUF.
I'll run t'escort my Princess from her hareem. Be off! and guard the palace portals, Let none pass thro' but Mandarin-born mortals.
(_Exeunt severally._)
(_Enter guards and musicians; then eight doctors pedantically dressed;_ PANTALOON _and_ TARTAGLIA _in characteristic costumes; then the_ KHAN ALTOUM, _in extravagantly rich attire, he ascends his throne_, PANT. and TART. _station themselves near it_. _At his entrance, all prostrate themselves, their foreheads to the ground, and remain thus until he is seated._ _At a sign from_ PANTALOON, _the march ceases_.)
ALT.
Good folk, behold your monarch much perplexed,
I must confess I'm seriously vexed. My daughter's obstinacy quite unnerves me, Such unforeseen and jadish tricks she serves me. One charming prince was killed this morn, at six; Another's just arrived,--I'm in a fix, And worritted to death by constant butch'ry, Of lovers caught by my fair daughter's witch'ry; But yet I cannot break my oath. Fo-hi Has heard my vow; his wrath I dar'n't defy. Prime Minister, can't you some project form And be your monarch's rudder thro' this storm?
PANT.
Celestial Majesty--
ALT.
What do you say?
PANT. (_aside_.)
The loudest bawling's all time thrown away! He's deaf as any post--a perfect dummy-- It's no use preaching wisdom to a mummy. I wish I were in Venice back again! I had to fly her happy shores, on pain Of being hanged, or losing liberty, Because the bigwigs thought my tongue too free. I hoped, as minister, I was secure To fatten in an easy sinecure; Instead of which, I've not one moment's leisure; No carnival, nor any Christian pleasure. But constant squabbles, tears, and imprecations, Divans, beheadings, sphinxes,--I've lost patience! I'll quit this land of pigtails, gongs, and teas; Return to Italy, and live at ease.
ALT.
I _see_ you're talking; speak a little louder.
PANT. (_aside_.)
He wouldn't hear the bursting of gunpowder.
ALT.
Tartaglia, have you seen this poor young fellow?
TART. (_stammering, until he speaks Italian very glibly_)--
Y-y-your h-hi-high-ness, y-y-es, a-and f-f-found h-hi-him--_molto bello_.
ALT.
What do you say?
TART.
S-so p-p-please y-your M-majesty, (_aside_) _Non posso piu! che sordo! sapresty!_
ALT.
Then bring this suitor to divan at once. (_Exit guards._) We'll urge him the hard trial to renounce.
PANT.
I'll try my best;
ALT.
What do you say?
PANT. (_aside_.)
But fear He'll be as deaf as you, and will not hear.
(_Enter_ KALAF, _with guards_. _He kneels before the Khan, with his hands to his forehead._ ALTOUM _regards him with pity_.)
ALT.
Arise, rash man. (_Aside_.) Ah, what a gallant youth, Behead him? 'Twould be quite a shame, in sooth. (_aloud_) Say, who art thou? From what far distant land Dost come to seek in marriage that fair hand Which only royal blood may justly claim?
KAL.
Great Khan, permit me to conceal my name; My lineage justifies my bold desire.
PANT.
I'm sure he's nobly born and nurtured, sire.
ALT.
What do you say?
PANT. (_despairingly_.)
It doesn't signify.
ALT.
'Twould break my aged heart to see thee die. I'd save thy life if possible. Oh, quit The sharp encounter with my child's keen wit. My heart and eyes are sickened by the blood That's daily shed.
KAL.
Your Majesty's too good.
ALT.
I'm captivated by thy noble air; With thee my royal throne I'll gladly share. So thou but force me not to take thy life; Avoid the fatal Sphinx--give up the strife.
KAL.
My thanks are all I have, and these I give; But without Turandot I will not live. My motto is, "Or death, or Turandot."
PANT. (_aside_.)
He really is a most pig-headed sot! (_aloud_) Young man, you cannot know the risk you run. Th' alternative's in earnest--not in fun. Dame Turandot will spin you a tough riddle, That's not to be "got thro' like any fiddle." Not such as this, which any child might guess-- (Though the Emperor could not, I must confess;) "_What gives a cold, cures a cold, and pays the doctor's bill?_" Not short enigmas lightly disentangled; Hard nuts you'll have to crack, fresh made, new-fangled; And if you cannot guess them all _instanter_, Your head will be struck off--I do not banter. You'll have to answer rightly in a twink; Your head once off, you'll have no time to think.
KAL.
Your warning's vain: "Or death or Turandot."
PANT. (_aside_.)
For all my sermon he don't care one jot.
TART.
D-d-dear s-sir, l-let m-me p-persuade you. _Lasci stare_ Th-this d-dr-dread-f-ful st-str-strife, _bruttissimo affare_.
KAL.
Again I say, "Or death, or Turandot."
TART.
H-he-he's ho-hope-l-l-less-l-ly in l-lo-love. _L'e proprio cot._
ALT.
As no persuasion moves this headstrong man, Go, summon Turandot to this divan.
(_Exit guards._)
(KALAF, _violently agitated, gazes towards the hareem entrance_.)
KAL.
She comes--her beauty will enchant my sight, Ye Gods, inspire my mind with sapient might!
(_March heard._ _Enter_ TRUFFALDIN, _with his drawn sabre on his shoulder_. _Black male and female slaves, beating tantans and cymbals._ ADELMA, _in Tartar costume, and_ SKIRINA, _both veiled_. ADELMA _carries a salver upon which are sealed papers_. TRUFFALDIN _and male slaves prostrate themselves as they pass_ ALTOUM'S _throne; the female slaves kneel, with their hands to their forehead_. _Then appears_ TURANDOT, _veiled, in rich Chinese costume_. _The courtiers and doctors prostrate themselves before her._ ALTOUM _rises; the Princess makes him a slight inclination, with her hands to her forehead, then ascends the throne, and seats herself_; ADELMA _and_ SKIRINA _on either side, the former nearest the audience_. TRUFFALDIN _takes the salver from_ ADELMA, _and with exaggerated ceremony, distributes the papers to the eight doctors, and resumes his place. March ceases._)
TUR. (_haughtily_.)
Once more a vain aspirant for my hand, Compels me here before you all to stand. This rash intruder, who thus fondly thinks To overcome in wit the Chinese Sphinx, Must little prize his life. His downfall's sore.
ALT.
There stands the man. Now don't be so demure. He's young and handsome, do have some compassion, Don't doubly kill him, in your usual fashion. Accept him as your husband, my sweet daughter, Don't keep us any longer in hot water.
TUR. (_after gazing at_ KALAF, _aside to_ SKIRINA)--
Skirina, what can ail me? Heigho! surely This can't be love--I feel so faint--quite poorly. No man has ever touched my heart--but now For this sweet youth I feel--I don't know how. In all my life I never felt so queer.
SKIR.
At last you've fall'n in love; that's very clear. So much the better! make your riddles plain. And then he needn't puzzle his poor brain.
TUR.
Nay, peace, Skirina, recollect my glory.
(ADELMA _has observed_ KALAF _with emotion_.)
ADELMA.
'Tis he! my former slave. I guessed his story. My heart was right, he's one of noble birth.
TUR.
Young prince, I clearly recognise your worth. Be wise in time. Relinquish your attempt. Too arduous is the trial. Do not tempt The Fates. I am not cruel, as they say, But shun the yoke of Man's despotic sway. In virgin freedom would I live and die; The meanest hind may claim this boon,--shall I, The daughter of an emperor, not have That birthright which belongs to all? Be slave To brutish force, that makes your sex our lord? Why does my hand such tempting bait afford? The gods have made me beauteous, rich, and wise, Presumptuous man considers me his prize. If nature dowered me with bounteous treasure You tyrants think 'twas all to serve your pleasure. Why should my person, throne, and wealth be booty To one harsh, jealous master? No, all beauty Is heaven's gift, and like the sun, should shine To glad earth's children, and their souls refine. I hate proud man, and like to make him feel He may not crush free woman 'neath his heel.
KAL.
Such high-souled sentiments, so fine a mind, Transcendent grace and beauty, all combin'd Must justify my love and seeming boldness. I ne'er accused you of disdain or coldness. I duly honour maidenly reserve.-- Your favour I pretend not to deserve; But who would not risk all, with blindfold eyes,-- To win a heaven on earth,--a Paradise? Each day do we not see, for smaller gain, Great captains brave the dangers of the main? For glory's empty bubble thousands perish, Above all treasures your fair hand I cherish; Your heart and not your throne, is my desire; Condemn me not if madly I aspire.
SKIR. (_aside to_ Turandot.)
For Fo-hi's sake! three easy riddles give, Don't let him die, but as your husband live.
ADELMA.
How noble are his words! Ah, had my sire But known he was a prince. My heart's desire I'll yet obtain; I'll save him by some plot, He ne'er shall wed the hateful Turandot. (_to_ Turandot.) Princess, you're agitated; calm your nerves, And treat him with contempt as he deserves.
TUR.
You're right, Adelma; thanks for your kind zeal; He's woman's foe; no pity must I feel. (_to_ Kalaf.) Prepare then, arrogant young man.--
ALT.
Dear prince, May not our Royal words your ear convince?
KAL.
I still repeat: "Or death or Turandot!"
PANT. (_aside_.)
My poor young man, you'll surely go to pot!
ALT.
Then read the awful mandate.
SKIR.
How I tremble.
ADELMA.
My jealousy I scarcely can dissemble.
(PANTALOON _receives the Doomsday Book, first prostrating Himself before it; then reads in a loud voice_:)--"By command of his Celestial Majesty, the Son of the Moon, cousin to the planets, and near relative to the firmament in general,--oyes! oyes! oyes!" (_Rings crier's bell._) (_Aside_.) If I said what I liked, I should say, oh no! oh no! oh no! (_Aloud_.) "Any person of royal descent may sue for the hand of our daughter, Empress Turandot, on the following conditions:--The Princess shall propound three riddles to any suitor proposing himself as her husband; should he be unable to unravel them, his head shall be struck off with an axe, and exposed on the city-gate of Peking; should he unravel them, the Empress Turandot shall become his lawful bride, and together they shall inherit the throne of the celestial empire. We swear it by our ancestor, the sun."
ALT. (_placing his hands on the book_)--
This law, tho' it cause tears and blood to flow, I've sworn to keep, alas! it must be so.
TUR. (_rises and declaims_)--
A tree on which men grow and fade; Old as the world, yet ever new; Its leaves, on one side, live in shade, On th' other bears the sun's bright show. Each time it blooms a ring it wears, It tells the age of each event. Upon its bark men's names it bears, Forgotten e'er its life be spent. What is this tree, so young, so old, So sunny warm, so icy cold?
KALAF. (_ponders awhile, then bows to the Princess_)--
Too happy is your slave, divine Princess, If nothing harder he may have to guess; This ancient tree which ever buds anew, Which sun and shade, man's age and deeds doth shew, It is "a year," revolving day and night.
PANT. (_joyfully_.)
Shake hands, Tartaglia, I'm quite sure he's right!
TART.
A-a-as-ass-tounding! _Sono contentissimo!_
DOCTORS (_having opened the papers_).
_Eureka! Optime! Optissimo!_
(_Flourish of gongs and cymbals_.)
ALT. (_graciously_.)
Fo-hi protects thee, son; He'll save thy life.
ADELMA (_aside_.)
Ye gods, let not my rival be his wife, Though I rejoice her vanity is vext.
SKIR.
I hope he'll be as clever at the next!
TUR.
Shall he outwit me? No, by sun and moon; (_to_ KALAF.) Your joy's precocious--triumph not too soon.
(_Rises and declaims_)--
Canst thou the fragile mirror name, Reflecting all creation on its limpid face; 'Tis closed within a narrow frame, Yet compasses high heav'n's blue vault of endless space. This crystal is of priceless worth, But yet the poor possess it, nor possession pay; It is the brightest gem on earth, It gives and yet receives its heaven-born brilliant ray. What is this mirror bright and clear, Free given to all, to all so dear?
KALAF (_ponders, then bows to the Princess_).
Your mystery's not hard to penetrate; The mirror you describe so small, so great, So priceless, so benign, "the eye" must be, A heaven 'twill show if thine speak love to me.
PANT. (_embraces_ TART.)
He's shot the bull's-eye through the very middle.
SKIR.
I never knew his equal at a riddle.
DOCTORS (_having opened the papers_).
_Eureka! Optime! Optissimo!_
(_Flourish of gongs and cymbals._)
TART.
_Bravo-o-o! Bravissimo! Benissimo!_
ALT.
I give you joy; you _are_ a clever fellow!
PANT.
Our Chinese Sphinx with rage is turning yellow.
ADELMA.
In vain the Fates themselves would seek to foil me; My rival shall not of my love despoil me.
SKIR.
I wish to Fo-hi all was fairly over!
ADEL. (_to_ Turandot.)
If you be mocked by this conceited lover, Your former victories will naught avail; Your honour's lost if this pert fop prevail.
TUR.
The world shall perish first! Exultant fool! My hate increases with thy hope to rule. Escape my wrath whilst yet thy life is free, My vengeance dread, and from the contest flee.
KAL.
Your hate alone, adored Princess, can move My soul. If vainly I implore your love, Then let me die; my life I do not prize If loathsome I appear in your sweet eyes.
ALT.
Hear reason, Prince, nor longer tempt the gods. Throw up the game,--too fearful are the odds. With honour canst thou quit this high divan, For thou'st done more than any other man. Yet two successes serve not, though they're glorious, Unless for the third time thou be victorious. And thou, my domineering, wilful child, Wilt not relent towards this youth? Be mild, And graciously accept his suit.
TUR.
Relent! I scorn his love,--his pity I resent. The law prescribes three trials. Let's proceed, And try if in the third he may succeed.
KAL.
The gods decide! "Or death or Turandot!"
TUR. (_angrily_.) Death--death will be your well-deserved lot.
PANT.
Keep silence in the court! Ahem! ahem! (_aside_) Now for some crackjaw, mystic apophthegm.
TUR. (_rises and declaims_)--
What is that thing, held cheap as dust, Yet honor'd by the Emperor's hand? 'Tis made to pierce, with sword's keen thrust, But sheds no blood, tho' wounds like sand, In number deep inflicts; robs none; Enriches thousands; rules the earth; Makes life with ease and smoothness run; Has founded kingdoms; ended dearth; Most ancient cities it has built, But ne'er caused war, nor war's sad guilt. Answer my question (_unveils_). Look me in the face, Avow you're vanquished and deserve disgrace.
KAL. (_gazes on her with rapture._)
Refulgent loveliness! Ecstatic bliss!
PANT, (_shaking him._)
Collect your senses! Don't take on like this!
ALT.
Alas, I fear his intellect is puzzled; He's mute,--his tongue seems tied,--his lips tight muzzled.
PANT.
Were't not for dignity, into the kitchen, I'd rush a glass of something short to fetch 'un.
TUR. (_who has returned_ KALAF'S. _fixed gaze_)--
Unhappy wretch! thou'rt silent; thou must die.
KAL. (_recovers himself, and bows to_ TURANDOT _with extreme composure_)--
'Twas but your beauty dazed my wondering eye. My mind can grasp the meaning of the Sphinx, Tho' it's as puzzling as the "Babe of Ginx." The iron thing which wounds yet sheds no blood; That rules the earth, and gives man wealth and food; On which each year the Khan doth place his hand, To typify his reign o'er China's land; In short, the instrument your riddle mentions Is one of mankind's earliest inventions. If I mistake not, Hm--ha--Let me see! "_The plough_" is meant by Riddle Number three.
DOCTORS (_having opened the papers_).
_Eureka! Optime! Optissimo!_
(_Flourish of gongs and cymbals._)
PANT.
I kiss our future Emperor's great toe!
TART.
Th-the S-sp-sphinx is v-van-qui-quished--_Vinto e il Demonio!_ Sh-she's f-fou-found her m-ma-match. _Evviva il matrimonio!_
(TURANDOT _faints_, ADELMA _and_ SKIRINA _support her_. ALTOUM _leaning on_ PANT. _and_ TART. _descends his throne, and embraces_ KALAF. _The_ DOCTORS _quit their seats, and retire to the background_.)
ALT.
Sweet prince, our son-in-law thou'lt be to-morrow, A joyful climax to our royal sorrow.
TUR. (_recovers her senses, and rashes wildly between_ ALTOUM _and_ KALAF)--
Oh, make me not his slave! 'Twill drive me mad, My mind no time for due reflection had. Too easily his triumph was obtained.
ALT.
The hard-won victory he fairly gained. With gratitude become this good youth's wife, Obey the law, and end this weary strife.
TUR.
Once more call the divan--renew the contest, If I have time for thought, I'm sure of conquest.
PANT.
Fair Princess Tigerheart, that's _rather_ cool; Don't make his Majesty act like a fool. D'you think the royal head of your kind Daddy Is lined with lead, like a Japan tea-caddy; What say you, colleague; and ye Doctors wise?
(_Doctors join hands in a circle, nodding their chins._)
DOCTORS.
Let bloodshed cease. The chopped-off heads suffice.
ALT.
To great Fo-hi's pagoda we'll repair And finish off this hymeneal affair.
TUR.
Have mercy--
ALT.
Mercy hast thou shewn to none, I've kept my oath; do thou as I have done. Fulfil Fo-hi's decree.
TUR.
Oh, spare me, Sire, Or at your feet behold your child expire.
(_Throws herself at his feet._)
ALT.
Thy marriage is ordained. Proud girl, obey, Too long I've bowed to thy capricious sway. Entreat no more. I swear by Fo-hi's sword.
TUR.
Hold, father, do not speak the sacred word. This overbearing tyrant I'll not wed; I'd rather make the sullen grave my bed.
KAL. (_to_ TURANDOT.)
Abate your terror; nor so madly grieve; I'll intercede myself for your reprieve. Fair cruel one, who may your tears withstand?
(_to_ ALTOUM.) Great monarch, grant her wish; I'd win her hand By love's sweet power; not by enforced consent.
(_to_ TURANDOT.) I see thou crav'st my head--then be content. I love thee so intensely, that my life Is worthless if I may not call thee wife. Again a solemn test I'll undergo.
ALT.
She's yours by right of law. Fate willed it so.
TUR.
You shall not drag me to the bridal altar; This hand shall slay me first (_draws a dagger._) It will not falter.
KAL.
Stay, hold your hand, and calm your poignant sorrow; We'll meet again in high divan. To-morrow The Chinese Sphinx this problem shall unravel: "Who is that Prince who, after weary travel Escaped from slavedom's thrall, and reached the goal And blissful summit of his longing soul; Yet at fulfilment of his heart's desire Was plunged yet deeper into tortures dire?" Relentless beauty, if you name aright The name and lineage of this luckless wight Then shall you gratify your hate, and take My life. But if you fail, then shall you make Me blessed, by giving me your hand. Decide.
TUR.
By this new compact I consent to abide.
ALT.
Imprudent youth, too generously kind, Thou know'st not her all-penetrating mind. But, should she conquer thee by female wile, Thou shalt not fall a victim to her guile. To-morrow's high divan shall seal her fate; Her wit may free her; or she'll be thy mate. Enough of blood's been shed.
TUR. (_aside_.)
My subtle art Shall crush his pride. Be firm, fond, wav'ring heart.
(_March strikes up._ ALTOUM, _leaning on_ KALAF'S _shoulder, followed by_ PANT., TART., DOCTORS, _and Courtiers, exeunt_ L. TURANDOT, ADELMA, SKIRINA, TRUFFALDIN, _and slaves, exeunt_ R.)
END OF ACT II.