ACT FOURTH
The scene is the same as the second act, scene second, except that the back of the great hall of the emperor’s Divan is now hidden by a decorated curtain. The assembly is gathered as before: Capocomico, Turandot and Altoum seated on their larger and lesser thrones.
Before them, Harlequin, Scaramouche, Punchinello and Pantaloon are performing a dance.
At its conclusion Capocomico rises, and addresses the Maskers.
CAPOCOMICO
Enough! Go, bring the nameless prince before us.
[Dismissing them with a gesture, he turns toward Altoum]
Altoum,—our greater emperor, the Sun,
Sits higher even than our august selves,
And soon shall set his throne at highest noon.
Then must I abdicate my one day’s reign,
First having sealed your daughter’s perfect marriage,
Ending in joy her doleful year and a day.
Therefore, in those brief minutes which are left me
To consummate these little things, I pray you
Deign of your courtesy to take my seat
And let me do the honors.
ALTOUM
[Rising from his lesser place]
As you will!
Till noon, my thanks for hospitality.
CAPO.
Oh, not at all!
[Pointing to his seat]
Pray, make yourself at home.
[As they pass each other to change places, Altoum speaks to Capo in lower voice]
Have you performed your task, and saved your head?
CAPO.
My head was never more attached to me.
TURANDOT
[Bending from her throne]
A word, my liege?
CAPO.
Nay, but a hundred, lady!
[He goes to her side. She speaks to him low]
TURANDOT
Have you kept faith with me? Ah—is he found—
My heart’s desire?
CAPO.
Your heart’s desire is found,
And waits for you.
TURANDOT
[Excitedly]
Where is he?
CAPO.
Lo, he comes!
[Pointing toward the entrance, he goes to the lesser throne. With music of their stringed instruments, the four Maskers usher in Calaf, haggard and dishevelled. Turandot starts, with a cry and look of bewilderment at Capo. Capo addresses Altoum and the Divan]
Your Majesty and lords, the nameless prince
Awaits to learn his name from Turandot.
CALAF
[Stepping forward fiercely]
He waits not, for his name has been betrayed
To her—and you, false jester, have betrayed it.
ALTOUM
[Amid commotion]
What’s that?
CALAF
My liege, why should I play the fool
In a Masker’s comedy? Death holds less scorn
Than being duped to dance in a puppet-show
To tinkling mandolins.
ALTOUM
Speak out your grievance!
CALAF
I stand here in your power, and his.—At midnight,
By secret sprinkling of a sleeping-charm,
This masker sent to rob my dreaming lips
Of the answer to my riddle—
ALTOUM
Gods! to rob?
Your proofs of this!
CALAF
The proofs stand up in me.
I who did deem it heaven to love your daughter
Have proved it hell. Your daughter knows my secret,
And all the ravage hidden in my name,
Yet am I nothing, my damnation—nothing
To her, who loves another.
ALTOUM
[Startled]
What—other? Who?
CALAF
“The noblest in the world.”—O noble world,
There aspiration earns its crown of scorn,
And baseness wins nobility! In such,
I’d liever be a beggar. But enough!
My fate indeed is nothing, and my name—
My name is—
TURANDOT
Stop! your riddle goes unanswered.
Go you in peace—and friendship. You, Sir Capo,
Who keep your faith so strangely, set before me
The heart of my desire.
CAPO.
He stands before you.
TURANDOT
Trick me not also. Keep your promise still.
This man is Calaf, Son of Timur, not
My heart’s desire.
ALTOUM
[Rising, wrathful]
How! Calaf, Son of Timur!
CALAF
Not drowned my liege, in water—but in grief.
ALTOUM
My darkest enemy.—So, Capo, this
Is he whom you would wed within my house
To my own daughter—Prince of Astrakhan!
Now by my star, the doom upon his head
Shall fall on yours—and doubly. I, it seems,
I, too, am duped!
TURANDOT
[Brokenly]
He has betrayed us all.
CAPO.
A single day is short to make all snug.
The Lord took six.
ALTOUM
A single day is all
My word allowed. I see! You bungled, fool,
Striving to save your neck, but now your time
Hangs at the stroke, and you have failed me. Doom
Falls on you and your fellows!
THE MASKERS
[Trying unsuccessfully to salaam]
Mercy, Sire!
CAPO.
[Behind his hand chiding them]
Where are your manners, my Prime-minister?
Venetian bows are still the mode in court,
Whilst we are emperor.
[Giving a sign to Harlequin, who runs out, he turns to Altoum]
O Sire—elect!
Before the ominous gong sounds in mine ears
That ushers me unto oblivious rags
To stroll the world again, let me rejoice
That you have turned your wrath from this brave youth
Upon my humble head.—Congratulations!
And with exchange of courtesies, I pray you
Felicitate me and these fellow-players
On the happy curtain of our comedy.
[At his gesture, Punchinello and Pantaloon run to the curtain at back]
ALTOUM
Say rather—tragedy.
CAPO.
We stand corrected:
Or say—romance, where true love laughs through tears:
Name it Romance, and grant us your applause.
[Punchinello and Pantaloon draw the curtain, revealing an oriental altar, with idol, beside which stand two priests]
ALTOUM
What’s there?
CAPO.
The altar for our ceremony:
The Wedding of the Princess and the Beggar.
[Reënter Harlequin, bringing in Barak, who rushes to Calaf and embraces him]
BARAK
My prince!
CALAF
[Overwhelmed]
Barak—old friend!
TURANDOT
[To Zelima]
Look, look, ’tis he!
My beggar’s gaffer.
ALTOUM
[Before whom Harlequin presents three tokens]
What are these?
CAPO.
Our trophies:
The secret of your daughter’s malady—
[Leading Calaf bewildered before Turandot]
Lady, receive them with your heart’s desire:
A ring, a rose, a beggar’s wallet.
TURANDOT
You—
Are you my beggar?
CALAF
[Taking from Barak his old cloak]
I am he who won
In Astrakhan—this rose, at Pekin gate—
This ring, and in this ragged beggar’s cloak
You once did smile upon, I now depart.
TURANDOT
Stay, love—You are my noblest in the world!
[Calaf turns in wonder and kneels to her. She bends and embraces him. A great gong resounds]
CAPO.
[Presenting his crown to Altoum]
My liege, I abdicate. And you applaud?
ALTOUM
Yea, marvel, Capo. Kingdoms will I give
To these your fellows.
THE MASKERS
[Bowing Venetian]
Hail!
ALTOUM
And to yourself yourself—
Whate’er you ask for.
CAPO.
Then, my liege and lady,
I beg—this withered rose.
CALAF
[Giving it to him]
Only a flower?
CAPO.
Lovers, that lives beyond its little hour
In memory.—Adieu!—My players, rule
Your kingdoms still in masks.—Now for the world!
[Tossing his gorgeous emperor’s cloak to Harlequin, he springs away in his tattered motley]
TURANDOT
[Calls after him]
What seek you there?
CAPO.
[Kissing to her and Calaf the withered rose]
More roses and romance!
Curtain
END OF PLAY
APPENDIX
TURANDOT’S DREAM
In the acted performance of this play, the third act commences with a scene which sets forth, wholly in pantomime, a dream of Turandot, representing—by suggestions of mystic light and sound—the state of her distracted mind, trying to solve the riddle of Keedur Khan.
The pantomime takes place in two imaginative settings—a mountain top and an oriental street—blending the one into the other.
Out of darkness first appears the outline of the dark summit, against a blue-gray radiance of sky. Etched upon this Zelima enters, like a shadow-phantom, beckoning. Following her to strange music Turandot appears, unsubstantial as shadow, painted opaque on the glowing background, like some silhouetted, featureless figure on an ancient vase, imbued as by magic with motion and antique gesture.
Bowing in awe above the brink of darkness, the figure of Turandot is led downward (and forward) into obscuring mists, tinged with green lights and gules. Out of the mist, voices—shrill, bizarre, bell-toned, menacing, mysterious—echo the words: “Khan, Keedur Khan, Khan, Khan!”
While the female forms grope below, the figure of Capocomico now appears on the summit, beckoning to his four maskers, whose shadow-forms gesticulate weirdly toward Turandot.
“Reveal, O Lady: What is he—
His true-born name,
His father’s fame—?”
Through the interpretive music, the teasing words of the riddle are chanted by the varied voices, amid strange hiatuses filled with mocking laughter.
Lastly, alone, appears the shadow form of Calaf, who follows the Maskers downward into the mist, searching with arms outgroped toward Turandot.
There, as the unreal forms pass and disappear, the silhouette of Capocomico stands fluting on the mountain top, while below echoes the basso and falsetto laughter of the Maskers, and the low taunting cry: “Keedur Khan!”
As this tableau shuts in darkness, there comes vaguely to light in the foreground a street scene. Here, at a gateway, beggars with yokes are huddled; before the gate, a moving frieze of dream figures, noiseless, pass fantastically: Chinese soldiers, high stepping; Turandot again, downcast, gliding like a captive with Zelima; Calaf, swift searching in pursuit; the Maskers, lithe, grotesque, pointing after him; rearguarded by Capocomico—blithely dominant in gesture, triumphant with fantasy.
Last of the dream images he also fades in darkness, out of which rise the merry strains of a chorus:
“O Lady, Lady, let fall your tears
No more, no more for foolish fears,
But let in your blithe playfellow——”
and Turandot, sobbing beside Zelima on her bench in the harem, awakes from her haunting dream of Keedur Khan.
Zelima bends over her.
“Alas, my lady, what ails you? You cried in your swoon!”
The merry voices of the Maskers outside sing louder.
“Oh, I have dreamed, Zelima! Drive them away!”
Thus follows the first spoken scene of Act Third, as here printed.
As acted, the stage management and lighting of this pantomime have been movingly devised by Mr. J. C. Huffman.
Here in description its visionary quality can only be suggested.
[1]. Since the date of the commission for my play, the translation of “Turandot” by Jethro Bithell has been published in America by Duffield & Company, New York, so that the Gossi-Schiller-Voellmueller dramatic version of the folk-tale is thus made available for English readers.
[2]. See Appendix.
THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS
GARDEN CITY, N.Y.