He Who Gets Slapped

reader will see, are depicted with a bitter sarcasm and unfriendliness, for Andreyev seems to have lost his last faith in the Man. The good, the innocent and clean heart is bound to suffer and die. His Consuelo, Zinida, Bezano are only stray rays of light out of place in the world and even in the world-circus which is full of spiders, champagne, and human outcasts. Andreyev does not blame these outcasts. On the contrary, he feels sympathy, if for anybody, for just these clowns, jugglers, and bareback-riders; but life, this strange combination of fate, accident, and cowardly slander, is stronger, and they collapse under the burden of this combination.

He is perhaps the best work of Andreyev, at any rate his best dramatic work. It is more adapted to stage conditions than his previous plays and is not overcrowded with symbolic ghosts. Furthermore, He is a remarkable summary of Andreyev’s philosophy.

Gregory Zilboorg

Cast of Characters

• Consuelo⁠—a bareback rider in a circus. Billed as “The Bareback Tango Queen.”

• Mancini⁠—Consuelo’s father.

• He⁠—a clown in Briquet’s circus. Billed as “He Who Gets Slapped.”

• Briquet⁠—Manager of the circus.

• Zinida⁠—a lion tamer, Briquet’s wife.

• Alfred Bezano⁠—a bareback rider.

• A Gentleman.

• Baron Regnard.

• Jackson⁠—a clown.

• Tilly and Polly⁠—musical clowns.

• Thomas, Angelica, and other actors and actresses of Briquet’s circus.

The action takes place in one of the large cities of France.

He Who Gets Slapped

Act I

A very large, rather dirty room, with whitewashed walls. To the left, in a niche, is a window, the only outside window in the room, opening on a courtyard. The light from it is so dim that even by day the electricity has to be turned on.

At the very top of the centre-back wall is a row of small dusty windows. They open on the circus hall. At night, when the performance is going on, a bright light shines through. By day they are dark. In the same wall is a large white door, reached by two stone steps, and nailed fast.

On the right, almost in the corner, is a high, wide, arched doorway which leads to the stables and the ring. By day it opens into pale darkness, at night into pale light.

The room is used for many purposes. It is the office of Papa Briquet, manager of the circus; here he keeps his little desk. It is the cloakroom of some of the actors. It is also the room where the cast gathers between calls, during rehearsals or performances. Again, it is a checkroom for used circus property, such as gilt armchairs, scenery for pantomimes, and other wares of the circus household. The walls are covered with circus announcements and glaring posters.

The time is morning. In the circus hall a rehearsal is going on, and preparations are being made for the evening performance. As the curtain goes up, the cracking whip and the shouts of the riding-master are heard from the ring. The stage is empty for a few seconds, then enter Tilly and Polly, the musical clowns, practising a new march. Playing on tiny pipes, they step from the dark doorway to the window. Their music is agreeable to the ear, but small, mincing, artificially clown-like, like their mincing steps; they wear jackets and resemble each other; same smooth-shaven face, same height; Tilly, the younger, has a scarf around his neck; both have their derbies on the backs of their heads. Tilly glances through the window, then they turn about, still marching.

Polly	Interrupting the march. Stop, you’re out again! Now, listen⁠—He stands close to Tilly and plays into his face. Tilly absentmindedly listens, scratching his nose. There! Come on now! They resume their music and marching. As they reach the door they meet the manager and Mancini; the latter walks behind the manager, and is gnawing at the knob of his goldmounted cane. Count Mancini is tall and slight. The seams of his clothes are worn and he keeps his coat buttoned tight. He assumes extremely graceful manners, takes affected poses, and has a special fondness for toying with his cane, with aristocratic stylishness. When he laughs, which happens often, his thin sharp face takes on a marked resemblance to a satyr. The manager, “Papa” Briquet, is a stout quiet man of average height. His bearing is hesitant. The clowns make room for the gentlemen. The manager looks questioningly at the older man.
Polly	With an affected accent. Our moosic for the pantomime! The March of the Ants!
Briquet	Ha! Yes!
	The gentlemen walk in. The clowns resume their music, Polly marching on, then turning, the younger following.
Polly	Papa Briquet, Jack is working very badly today.
Briquet	What’s the matter with him?
Polly	He has a sore throat. You’d better take a look at him.
Briquet	All right. Come on, Jack. Open your mouth! Wider⁠—wider. Turns clown’s face to the light near the window and examines him closely and seriously. Just smear it with iodine.
Polly	I told him so. I said it was nothing! Oh! Come on. They go away playing, marching, practising their funny mincing steps. The manager sits down. Mancini strikes a pose by the wall, smiling ironically.
Mancini	So. You give them medical treatment, too! Look out, Papa Briquet, you have no licence.
Briquet	Just a little advice. They’re all so afraid for their lives.
Mancini	His throat is simply burnt with whiskey. These two fellows get drunk every night. I am amazed, Papa Briquet, to see you pay so little attention to their morals. He laughs.
Briquet	You make me sick, Mancini.
Mancini	Count Mancini is at your service!
Briquet	You make me sick, Count Mancini. You poke your nose into everything, you disturb the artists in their work. Some day you’ll get a thrashing, and I warn you that I shan’t interfere.
Mancini	As a man of superior associations and education I cannot be expected to treat your actors as my equals! What more can you ask, Briquet? You see that I do you the honour