Trilby[1]
By Paul Potter
Produced by Mr. Palmer’s company at Boston Museum 4 March 1895 (and Garden Theatre, New York 15-20 April 1895).Revised for Herbert Beerbohm Tree and performed at Theatre Royal Manchester, 7 September 1895.[2]Opened at Her Majesty’s Theatre (London), 30 October 1895.
New York / LondonSvengali / Wilton Lackaye / Herbert Beerbohm Tree
Talbot Wynne, “Taffy” / Burr McIntosh / Edmund Maurice[3]
Alexander McAlister, “The Laird of Cockpen” / John Glendinning / Lionel Brough
William Bagot, “Little Billee” / Alfred Hickman / Patrick Evans[4]
Gecko, second violin at the Gymnase / Robert Faton Gibbs / C.M. Hallard
Duc de la Rochemartel, “Zouzou” / Leo Ditrichstein / Herbert Ross
Theodore de la Farce, “Dodor” / Alex L. Gisiko / Gerald Du Maurier[5]
Antony, art student / W.M. de Silke / Berte Thomas
Lorimer, art student / Edwin Brandt / Gayer Mackay
Rev. Thomas Bagot / Edward L. Walton / Charles Allan
Colonel Kaw, a theatrical manager / Reuben Fax / Holman Clark[6]
Philippe, a footman
Trilby O’Ferrall, an artist’s model / Virginia Harned / Dorothea Baird
Mrs. Bagot / Rosa Rand / Frances Ivor
Madame Vinard, a concierge / Mathilde Cottrelly / Rosina Filippi[7]
Angele, a grisette[8] / Grace Pierrepont / Cicely Turner
Honorine, a grisette / Lucile Nelson / Agnes Russell
Musette, a grisette / Josephine Bennett / Sadie Wigley
Ernestine, a grisette / Sybil Erlyn
Mimi, dancer from the Salle Valentino / Menta Elmo / Olive Owen
La petite Noisette, dancer from the Salle Valentino / Winnie Leon
Hortense, dancer from the Salle Valentino / Madge Langton
Desirée, dancer from the Salle Valentino / Helen Graeme
Director Herbert Beerbohm Tree
Musical DirectorRaymond Roze
ChoreographyJohn d’Auban
<A> Act I
It is the 1850s.A Studio.Large bay window at back, through which is seen a church, with old houses on either side, and in the distance a glimpse of the Seine.Walls covered with plaster-casts, studies in oil, foils, masks, and boxing-gloves.Large fireplace, with log fire, between L.1 E. and L.3 E.Gridiron, frying-pan, toasting fork and bellows hang on wall near it.Cupboard up C. with crockery.Model throne C.Three easels in different parts of room.Small table R.1.Two lay figurespainted; one dressed as a Toreador the other as a rag-picker.Trilby’s foot scratched on wall.There are three entrances.The door is in flat L. of the bay window.There is an alcove, containing piano R.2 E. and another alcove at an angle L.U.E.Both these alcoves are filled with bric-à-brac, books and knick-knacks.They serve as passages to other rooms in the apartment.It is late on a November afternoon.Snow is falling in the street.Discovered—stage empty.
MADAME VINARD (heard outside R. at back).Monsieur Billee.Monsieur Billee. Voici une dépêche.[9](Enter D.U.L.She is a good-looking, dark-haired garrulous woman.She looks round.) But where is he then, this Litrebili?
(She is about to exit by L.U.E. when she stumbles against Taffy who enters carrying a large log).
MADAME VINARD.Ah pardon, mille pardons,[10]Monsieur Taffy.
TAFFY(with a drawl).[11]Not at all, Madame Vinard.My fault.You see—ha, ha—I’m—a—I’m rather a ponderous individual even without the—a—log.(Crosses to fireplace where he puts log on fire) What’s up?
MADAME VINARD(R.C.). Here is a dispatch, a telegram, for Monsieur Billee.
TAFFY.Hand over.I’ll deliver it.(Takes telegram, looks at it) More trouble, I suppose(pockets telegram, sighs heavily, then proceeds to stir up the logs).
MADAME VINARD(crosses to C.). Trouble, Monsieur Taffy.Why, never since I have been concierge in the Latin Quarter[12]have I seen three happier people than you, Monsieur Sandy and Monsieur Litrebili.
TAFFY(taking bellows and blowing fire). You’re a good sort, Madame Vinard, but you don’t know everything.
MADAME VINARD(crosses to L. by couch.Mysteriously). I know that you go every day to the Morgue.It’s horrible.
TAFFY(blowing fiercely). A fellow must find inspiration somewhere.This wood’s wet (stay seated on couch L.).
MADAMEVINARD(mysteriously). And you paint the most dreadful subjects—drowning, murder, the guillotine(turns up C., shudders).
TAFFY(facing fire, same business with bellows). We can’t all paint Toreadors[13] like the Laird.[14]Wish you’d oblige me with a dry log now and then.
MADAMEVINARD (same business). And I know why you paint terrible subjects.(Looking around to see that nobody listens)It is because you’re in love.
TAFFY(turns in horror, bellows in hand). Eh?
MADAME VINARD (same manner). You’re in love with Trilby.
TAFFY (scared). Shut up.
MADAME VINARD. What?
TAFFY.Fermez-vous![15]
MADAME VINARD.And you’re afraid to let Monsieur Sandy and Monsieur Litrebili know it.
(He protests).
And you’re afraid to ask Trilby to marry you.
(He protests).
And Monsieur Vinard, my husband—who is fond of you all as I—Vinard says you’re nothing but a great big baby.
TAFFY (angrily).If Vinard has been spreading this story about—(jumps over sofa).
MADAME VINARD.But no; not no—
TAFFY (with determination).There’s not a minute to lose.(Crosses R.Aside) I’ll tackle Trilby and know my fate.I—(hesitating again) you see, I’m not very good at proposals.I—I’ll ask the Laird to coach me—great diplomat, the Laird, and meanwhile, just shut up about it, like a good woman, and—and—I’ll get some dry logs(crosses L. to door very hastily.Exit quickly L.U.E.).
MADAME VINARD.Ah, the dear Monsieur Taffy (crosses to R. at table).
(Laird is heard singing “Comin’ thro’ the Rye”).[16]
And here is Monsieur Sandy.
(Enter from door in flat, the Laird.He is jauntily dressed, and carries a bunch of white violets).
Good afternoon, Monsieur Sandy.
LAIRD (in very bad French, L.C.).Bon jour, Madame Vinard.
MADAME VINARD (R.C. near table R.).But how gaily you are dressed, Monsieur Sandy.
LAIRD (puts hat on easel L.Scotch accent).Benighted Gaul though you are, you may have heard that when my eponym, the Laird of Cockpen, went wooing, he took special pains with his attire.(Recites)[17]
His wig was well pouther’d[18] and as gude[19] as new,
His waistcoat was white; his coat it was blue;
He put on a ring, a sword and cocked hat,
And wha’ could refuse the Laird wi’ a’ that?
(Crosses to R.C.).
MADAME VINARD (L.).And are yougoing to woo, Monsieur Sandy?
LAIRD.I come from the Flower Market and am about to lay these white violets at her still whiter feet(crosses L. puts violets on mantelpiece L.).
MADAME VINARD (R.).At whose feet?(Suddenly understanding) Ah, Mon Dieu,[20] not—not—at Trilby’s?
LAIRD (L. at end of couch taking off coat).And pray, MadameVinard, do you know any just cause or impediment why I should not pay my homage to that angel ever bright and fair?
MADAME VINARD (getting jacket from dais chair).Ma foi, non.[21]Only Monsieur Taffy (laughing) might object.
LAIRD.I waive Monsieur Taffy’s objections.Oblige me with that jacket(throws overcoat on dais).
MADAME VINARD (putting on his coat).And Trilby might refuse you.
LAIRD.I should console myself with the sentiment of my illustrious name-sake.(Crosses R.Recites)
And often he thought as he ga’ed[22] through the glen,
She’s daft to refuse the Laird of Cockpen.[23]
MADAME VINARD (L.). And she might love another.
LAIRD (R.).I should call my trusty claymore[24] to my aid and lay that “other” low(gestures with mighty claymore).
MADAME VINARD (L.C.).Ah, but you are ferocious, Monsieur Sandy.
LAIRD(R.Sheathing his imaginary claymore).Voilà l’espèce d’homme que je suis[25](goes up to window, at easel).
MADAME VINARD (laughing).I must go.I have to see Maître Galvin, the lawyer, about that wretch Svengali’s rent.Bonjour, Monsieur Sandy (exit D.F.).
LAIRD (bowing low).Bong jour, Madame Vinard (at piano filling pipe.Lights pipe which he smokes upside down; then begins to arrange the lay-figure Toreador, singing as he works)
Here are we met, three merry boys[26]
Three merry boys, I trow, are we;
And mony a night we’ve merry been,
And mony mae we hope to be.
TAFFY (enter from L.2 E. carrying logs.Sadly).Hello Sandy(crosses to fire, throws on the logs recklessly.Back to L.C.).
LAIRD. Ha, my bold militaire.(Sings)
We’re na fou, we’re no that fou,
But just a drappie in our e’e.[27](Crosses to L. and R.S.)
TAFFY (kicking logs; his back to the Laird, stands in front of dais).Notice anything odd about me?
LAIRD (coming down to him, looking at him).Nothing; your back’s still as broad as some of Zouzou’s stories.(Runs, slaps back, sings, going to easel)
The cock may craw, the day may daw,
But aye we’ll taste the barley bree.[28]
(goes up to easel near door).
TAFFY (in front of dais, suddenly).Shut up.I want your advice.You’ll laugh, but I don’t care.Laugh, hang it, I say, laugh(crosses to the rag-picker lay figure and arranges it).
LAIRD.All right.(Coming down R.C. mahlstick[29]in hand, laughs)What did I laugh for?
TAFFY (woe-begone).[30]Sandy, I’m in love (sits at foot of dais).
LAIRD (R. of dais, sees violets).Love!(Begins to laugh, suddenly checks himself) There’s nothing so absurd in that.Still, for a man of your Titanic proportions—
TAFFY (seated R. at foot of dais, firing up).Hang my proportions.I knew you’d say that.Big men are just as liable to fall in love as little men.And, I tell you, it hurts them a deuced deal more—for they’ve farther to fall.What I want is advice, not chaff.I’ve made up my mind to marry; and when my mind’s made up, I stick at nothing (crosses to R., picks up dumb-bells and exercises).
LAIRD (C.).Right(gets more sticks).
TAFFY.Come.How do you propose to a girl?(dumb-bells business:R.).
LAIRD (L.C.).Eh?I’ll be frank with you, Taffy.I’ve been pondering that momentous question myself.
TAFFY.You.No.By Jove, that’s rich.(L. of table R., by it.Laughing, suddenly checks himself)After all, it isn’t so preposterous.
LAIRD.Preposterous!
TAFFY.Still, for a man of your peculiarly unromantic physique(dumb-bell exercises).
LAIRD (C.Angry).Hang my physique, and let me tell you, Taffy (waving mahl-stick)—
MADAME VINARD (enter quickly from door in flat.Down L.).Ah, Messieurs, I had a message to bring you.You know that across the street there is a factory, a glove factory, where many young girls are employed, and, as the windows of the factory overlook yourself, the propriétaire asks you to close the blind when you have models like—models who—(looks down) who—(same business, lifts her skirts a little, then laughs).Vous comprenez?[31]
LAIRD (C.).Je comprong.Je comprong parfaitemong.[32]But we won’t do it, Madame Vinard.Never.Jamais, au grand jamais[33](goes up to easel).
MADAME VINARD.But Monsieur Sandy—
TAFFY (R.).In the eyes of art, Madame Vinard, a—nothing is—a—so—a—chaste as the nude (dumb-bells business).
MADAME VINARD.But the ladies in the glove factory think—
LAIRD.Tell the ladies in the glove factory that all beauty is sexless to the artist.
TAFFY.We decline to close blinds; glove-factory must move(goes up opposite by table).
MADAME VINARD.C’est dommage,[34] Messieurs.I have done of my best.(Going R. by piano) You will not even close one shutter?
(Enter Little Billee, from door in flat.Throws paint box on floor.Billee is much excited).
TAFFY (R.C. alarmed).Why, Billee, what’s the matter?(Down L. and up L.).
BILLEE.She’s sitting at Durien’s—upstairs, that’s all.
LAIRD (C.).Who’s sitting at Durien’s?
BILLEE (L. opposite L. opening).Why she—Trilby.
LAIRD and TAFFY (rising).What?
BILLEE.Before all those ruffians.
TAFFY (R.C.).For—for the figure?
BILLEE.Yes.There she was, just as I opened the door (L.).I saw her, I tell you.The sight of her was like a blow between the eyes, and I bolted(sits L. couch).
TAFFY (furious).It’s—it’s monstrous.
LAIRD (furious).It’s a scandal.
(They walk up and down).
MADAME VINARD (R. by table, business affecting innocence).But, Monsieur Taffy, in the eyes of art, nothing is so chaste as the nude(crosses to C.).
TAFFY (R. up).Oh, shut up.
MADAME VINARD (same business).And, Monsieur Sandy “all beauty is sexless to the artist.”
LAIRD (C.).Oh, get out (crosses to L. window).
MADAME VINARD (same business).Then Trilby is different from other models?(Cross L.).
TAFFY and LAIRD (shouting).Of course she is.Certainerarong![35]
(A tinkling ring).
MADAME VINARD. There he rings—I tell him now—soufflé[36]—ha, ha, ha.(Exit gesticulating)On y va—on y va.
BILLEE (at his easel, rising; crosses up, gets hat; walks).Personally it’s no business of mine.I’m off to Barbizon[38] to paint the forest.
TAFFY (C., trying to assume a playful tone, though evidently worried).In mid-November?(Cross to Billee)You’ll freeze to death—a Babe in the wood.And Sandy and I will have to drop leaves on you, like two confounded robins.[39](Crosses to C.) By the way, there’s a telegram Mother Vinard left for you.
(Gives telegram. Billee sitting C. opens it).
LAIRD (coming R. of Taffy.Low to Taffy).This won’t do about Trilby.We must stop it(goes back to easel).
TAFFY (R. of couch).Quite right—we will.(Aloud)What is it, Billee?
BILLEE.Nothing much.My mother and uncle have gone to Florence.They want me to join them there.
TAFFY (crosses to Billee L.1.Putting hand kindly on his shoulder).Why, young un, you wouldn’t desert your two old pals?
BILLEE (L. pressing Taffy’s hand).I … may have to.And if I go, I’ve done with this beastly Paris for ever.I shall never come back.
(Trilby’s cry “milk below” heard outside R.Billee goes to his easel).
TAFFY (cross R.).Here’s Trilby.
(General movement).
Not a word about this.Not a word, mind.To your easel, Billee(going to his easel).
(All three sit at easels.Trilby’s cry repeated, but nearer).
TAFFY.Here she comes.Now, mind, Billee.Don’t breathe a syllable about her posing.
(All pretend to be intent on their work.Trilby appears at door in flat.She wears gray military overcoat, short striped petticoat, and list slippers).[40]
<!insert illus. 32 here!>
TRILBY (at door L.F. making military salute).Salut, mes enfants[41](comes down L.C.).
(All look up as though they had not expected her.All smile.Billee’s smile is forced; he at once returns to his work).
I guessed you were at work and thought I’d just come in for a bit and pass the time of day(coming down).
LAIRD (coming down, R.C. rising and bowing).Trilby Recevez l’aveu de mes admirations très distinguées.[42]
TRILBY (L.C. crossing to him quickly, and pulling his whiskers affectionately).What lovely language you do use, Sandy dear.Et puis—zut alors—tarra-pat-a pouffe![43]
LAIRD (R.C. flattered).Ventrebleu Sacr-r-r-r-e nom de dieu.[44]
TRILBY (sits C. on dais, laughing).And how terribly you do swear, Sandy dear.You swear ever so much harder than Zouzou and Dodor, and they are soldiers and it’s their profession(sits on model throne and produces sandwich from paper).
LAIRD (going up to easel, sits).How you go on, Trilby.
TRILBY (on dais, motion of rising).Would you like me to go off?
LAIRD and TAFFY (quickly).No, no.
TRILBY (sits on dais.Doubtfully).Little Billee doesn’t want me.
(A pause—no answer)
Do you, Billee?
(No answer.Pouts)
But the Laird and Taffy want me.That’s a majority of the house.I shall stay.(Pause—she munches sandwich, and carries on.) What’s the matter, Billee?You look as sad as though Taffy had tried to tell you a funny story (laughs).
(Laird and Taffy laugh).
Well, life ain’t all beer and skittles, and more’s the pity; but what’s the odds as long as you’re happy?
TAFFY (at easel).We—we’d give a good deal to have your light heart, Trilby.
TRILBY (seated on dais).You wouldn’t give as much for my head, for I’ve oh such a pain in it.
(All rise in great concern).
Neuralgia[45] in the eyes, or something.
(Billee L. and Laird R. of her.They crowd round her, Svengali’s laugh heard outside).
TAFFY(R.).Here’s that horrible Svengali.Keep him out, Sandy.
(Come down R.Laird moves towards door R.).
TRILBY.No, let him in.He’ll play; it will do me good.
(Enter Svengali and Gecko R. of dais from door in flat.Both are shabby and dirty).
SVENGALI (R. of couch, rubbing his hands and chuckling).Ha, ha, good joke; capital.
(Gecko makes deprecating gesture to the company, comes R. of Trilby, but Svengali continues).
MadameVinard laughed so much in telling it that she forgot to tell me that I was to be sued for my rent.Very good.Capital(R. of couch L.).
TAFFY (down R.).Svengali, give us a little music.Trilby has a touch of neuralgia.
(Gecko R. of dais near Trilby).
SVENGALI (seeing Trilby—crosses to her and makes a mock obeisance).Tiens, c’est la grande Trilby.[46]Bonjour, ma belle; I will make music for you and take away your pain, and Gecko will play his violin for you.(Crosses to R. of Gecko)Gecko plays like an angel; I play like an angel.We are two angels.
TRILBY (taking cigarette from pouch at her side).You carry your wings inside, for convenience.
(Music)
SVENGALI.En v’la une orichinale.[47]
(Makes another burlesque bow and crosses to piano in alcove R.2 E.Gecko after a wistful look at Trilby, follows him.Stage Music).