Libretto by Dana Kaufman
Diary of a Madman
SCENE I
MADMAN
I am Aksentiy Ivanovich Poprischin, a man of noble birth! I am Aksentiy Ivanovich Poprischin, a man of noble, noble, noble birth! What’s that, you say? A titular counselor? Ha ha ha! Nyet! A man of noble, noble birth. Yes, a man of noble, noble, noble, noble, noble birth! So there. What time is it? Ah, the bells. Ah, the clock strikes ten. Late for work I am again! To be honest with you, I would not have gone to the office at all if I had known what a sour face the Head of the Department would make.
HEAD OF THE DEPARTMENT
Poprischin! Poprischin! Well, now, Aksentiy Ivanovich Poprischin, I’ll show you what you’re worth. Idiot! Thoughtless fool! Oh, I’ll show you what you’re worth. What’s with that head of yours? You rush around like a madman, a madman!
MADMAN
I am Aksentiy Ivanovich Poprischin, a man of noble birth!
HEAD OF THE DEPARTMENT
A man of noble birth? Nyet! I know your secrets, you scoundrel. You’ve been following Sahfee, Sahfee, the Director’s daughter.
MADMAN
Ah, Sahfee!
HEAD OF THE DEPARTMENT
You, with Sahfee? Our employer’s daughter? Ha ha ha! You’re insane! You lousy fool! What’s with that head of yours? You! Crazy loon. Get to work!
MADMAN
Poprischin! Poprischin! Damned old buzzard! What news is there today? Oh, look here. What’s this? Strange things are happening in Spain. There is no king? A vacant throne? Well, there must be a King. There must be a King--no, not some doña! The Spanish que--
SAHFEE
Oh, have you seen Papa?
MADMAN
Ah, Sahfee!
SAHFEE
Look here, I asked: Has Papa been here?
MADMAN
No, miss.
SAHFEE
Ah! Thank you, goodbye!
MADMAN
Ah, Sahfee. I am Aksentiy Ivanovich Poprischin, and a fool I am!
SCENE II: SAHFEE’S ARIA
SAHFEE
Ah, Medji, Medji, my loyal friend! Does not my life flow by in pleasure? In pleasure? How my heart throbs. It throbs, yes it throbs! Oh, my heart throbs in expectation as I sense the approaching of spring! Papa wants for me a gen’ral, or perhaps a kammerjunker. Oh, a kammerjunker. A kammerjunker! My kammerjunker! If only you knew him, Medji. His name is Teplov—a dark-haired, noble man, with eyes black and aflame! I have Teplov. I love Teplov! I’m madly in love with Teplov! I am weary with excitement, weary with excitement. How spring approaches, and how spring shall feed this pleasure of mine.
SCENE II
MADMAN
Ah, Sahfee! Sahfee, and her little dog.
FIDELE
Ahff! Hello, Medji. Ahff!
MADMAN
Oh, what’s this? What’s this? What the devil! A talking dog? It cannot be.
FIDELE
Shame on you, Medji! Ahff! Where are my letters?
MEDJI
No, Fidele, you are wrong in blaming me. No! You are wrong in blaming…you are...you are...ahff! I have been very, very, very...ahff...unwell. Ahff!
MADMAN
What’s this? I can’t believe my ears! Oh, to hear her speak in human language. But there was, I remember, perhaps a fish in England who spoke a strange tongue! And scholars for and to find out fish speech! And then there were cows, cows who bought a pound of tea at the market. Yes, cows, two cows, who drink to eat a glass, a glass of cold, cold, hot, hot, hot, cold chai chai! Ha ha ha! Still, this was a surprise.
MEDJI
Fidele! Ahff! I wrote you, Fidele. Fidele! Surely, that husky did not deliver the mail. Ahff!
MADMAN
Oh, what’s this? Letters? What the devil! Letters from a dog! Only a fine gentleman writes correctly. I confess that lately I’d begun to see things no one’s seen or heard before. But the letters, precious letters! Medji’s letters could lead me to Sahfee. Ah, Sahfee! How I long to peek into her bedroom. There, I think, are wonders. There, I think, is such a paradise not even found in the heavens. To see her rouse from sleep, then to look at the little stool on which she puts her little foot, and the way she puts her snow white stocking on that little foot...aie, aie, aie. Nothing more, silence. Ah, Sahfee. Not seeing my darling an hour, to me there passed a year. Now my life is mournful and sour; how I pray that death draw near.
SAHFEE
Not seeing my darling an hour, to me there passed a year. His name is Teplov, the finest nobleman! And my life flows by in pleasure. How my heart throbs. Ah! I love Teplov. I’m madly in love with Teplov!
MADMAN
I love Sahfee! The man of noble birth! Sahfee! Medji’s letters could lead me to Sahfee. Medji’s letters will lead me to Sahfee. Ah, Medji! Fidele! Those letters shall be mine!
SCENE III
MADMAN
And now, the letters--letters from Fidele and Medji. Those little brats will reveal all about Sahfee. Well, look here!
MEDJI
Dearest Fidele….
FIDELE
Dear Medji….
MEDJI AND FIDELE
I’m very, very happy we decided that we’d write each other.
MEDJI
It seems to me that sharing thoughts, feelings, and impressions is one of the greatest blessings on Earth.
MEDJI AND FIDELE
Ahff!
MADMAN
Such perfect punctuation! A finely written letter. If only the Head of the Department had such talent! Ha ha ha! Now, look here. What’s next, you brat of a dog?
MEDJI
Fidele, does not my life flow by in pleasure? My young mistress, whom Papa calls Sahfee--ah, she loves me with all of her heart.
SAHFEE
Ah, Medji! My loyal Medji.
MADMAN
Ah, Sahfee! Nothing more, silence. Ah, Sahfee.
MEDJI
And she also pets me quite often. Ahff!
MEDJI AND FIDELE
I drink tea and coffee with heavy cream.
MEDJI
Ah, ma chère, I see absolutely no pleasure in those big, bare bones that husky slobbers over in the kitchen.
FIDELE
Ahff! The only good bones are from wild game and, furthermore, when no one has sucked the marrow from them yet.
MEDJI
Mixtures of several gravies are good, but only without the capers and herbs. Ma chère, Fidele, oh how strange our dearest Papa is. And he said, “Look at this here, and just see what this is.” Then I saw some little ribbon, finally licked it on the sly. It was just a bit salty.
MADMAN
What the devil! Well, this little doggy, she is just too…!
FIDELE
Artichokes and carrots and turnips will never, ever taste any good.
MEDJI
Today, my mistress whom Papa calls Sahfee…..
MADMAN
Ah! Now, just look here.
MEDJI AND FIDELE
How my heart throbs. It throbs, yes it throbs. Oh, my heart throbs in expectation as I sense the approaching of spring! Ahff!
MADMAN
What’s this? Such dogginess!
MEDJI
Oh, my dear Fidele, today Teplov arrived in the grandest of carriages. Sahfee cried….
SAHFEE
Oh, show him in! Ah, Medji, that’s my dark-haired nobleman, my royal captain. Oh, Teplov!
MADMAN
She lies. It can’t be! It can’t be that a kammerjunker could enchant her so.
MEDJI
Soon there is to be a wedding. Ah, Teplov loves her with all his heart.
MADMAN
Nyet!
MEDJI
Fidele, if only you knew that ugly clerk who sits in Papa’s study!
MADMAN
Who might this clerk be?
FIDELE
The one who only sits and sharpens pens? He has such a funny name, and such a funny head of hair, like hay!
MEDJI
Sahfee thinks he’s a perfect turtle in a sack.
MADMAN
It cannot be, they’re aiming at me. Nyet!
MEDJI, FIDELE, AND SAHFEE
Ha!
MADMAN
Why precisely am I a titular counselor? But there was, I remember, perhaps some strange things happening in Spain. There was no King. A vacant throne? Well, there must be a King. And yes, there is a King! Today is the day for grandest of all celebrations, yes. In Spain there is a King. And he has been found. I am this King! The King of Spain! Ferdinand the Eighth! The King of Spain. And Sahfee is his Queen!
SCENE IV
MADMAN
The King of Spain now has the finest cloak, all ready and sewn. I am this King. I am the King! Ferdinand the Eighth. Ha! I’ll go to the office as a joke. Ha ha ha!
HEAD OF THE DEPARTMENT
Poprischin! Maniac! End this fantasy! I’ll tear that cloak to pieces.
MADMAN
Nyet! Such a madman, you. I am King. The King of Spain!
HEAD OF THE DEPARTMENT
Back to work, you fool!
MADMAN
The King!
SAHFEE
Oh, have you seen…? Ah! Hideous madman!
MADMAN
I am King! The King of Spain.
SAHFEE AND HEAD OF THE DEPARTMENT
To the asylum with you!
MADMAN
Long at last, my journey to Spain. Spanish deputies have brought me to my land. Yet, I doubt that this is Spain.
SCENE V
MADMAN
Nyet! I simply have not the strength to endure. God in heaven! Torture now inflicted on this soul. They will not see me, or heed me, or hear these wretched cries. Just why do they torture me so? God, what have I done? Nothing have I to give them. What could they want of my poor old soul? The poorest soul, the tortured soul? What could I give to them? God, what have I done? Oh, what could I have done? My head burns in fiery torment. All is whirling before my eyes! Oh, save my soul. Please take this soul. Give me my troika, troika, onward, onward, faster, faster, faster now, and swift as the wind! My coachman, do mount your seat, and ring, ring, ring out the bells. Now, raise aloft. Gallop, horses, gallop, and carry me straight out this world. Now, farther and farther, till all the world has vanished. Nothing more, nothing more. Ah, over me bends heaven above. In the distance glimmers now a star. And the forest rushes past with dark trees and the crescent moon. Beneath my feet flows the bluest of mists. And palely sounds the music in the cloud. On one side roars the sea; on the other, Italy. Russian peasant houses sit yonder far. Is that not my house, so blue in distant light? Is that not she at window side, mother of mine? Matushka, I beg you to save your poor child! Just see how they torture your beloved son. Have pity, mother dear, pity your sick child. The world has not a place for poor souls. Save my poor soul, Matushka! Ah! Oh, press to your bosom this orphan, weak in endless pain. And do you know that the Dey of Algiers has a bump just under his nose?