"It is quaint and it is droll."
I’ve mentioned before that the one saving grace of these
operas is that most of the plot takes place well before we ever get to the theater. A good
thing. Otherwise it would be worse than sitting through The Ring Cycle, by you-know-who.
The Grand Duke is no exception. One hundred years before we got to the theater (to the
day, it would seem), the Grand Duke of a smallisch pischer of a Germanic country
instituted a law that was intended to reduce bloodshed amongst those hotheads who would
engage in dueling – a popular pastime in the days before video games were invented.
Rather than firing pistols or sticking each other with swords (I’ve been foiled
again!), the two hotheads would simply each draw a card from a deck and the one with the
lowest card would lose and be declared "legally dead." The winner would take his
place and assume all of his benefits and obligations.
Another example of the clear thinking of that long-ago Duke, was the fact that every
law had a "sunset" clause such that it automatically elapsed after 100 years
unless it were specifically extended. With me so far?
Moving up to about 20 years before we arrived at the theater, the present holder of the
Dukedom was engaged as a child, to the newborn Princess of another pischer country, this
one in the south of France. (This always happens in Gilbert and Sullivan. It’s become
expected. Hardly worth bringing up.)
The girl’s father, the Prince, was eager to do this because he was broke and the
duke was known to be very wealthy, if not a bit more than frugal. The fine print in the
betrothal contract said that the Princess had to show up and claim the Duke before she
turned 21 or the deal was off.
Also about that same time a young boy was enjoying his mother’s cooking. His
absolute favorite were her hearty sausage rolls, a Germanic delicacy. He would later grow
up to become a secret agent for the Grand Duke.
This Grand Duke was not universally loved. His main detractors complained that he was a
penny-pinching miser given to hypochondria. He just wasn’t a fun guy.
So a conspiracy had developed to overthrow the miserable little rascal. This conspiracy
was centered in a local Shakespearean theater company that had decided that they would not
only overthrow him, but replace all of the politicians with actors. The theater manager
would become the new Grand Duke and the leading lady would become the Duchess, and so on
down the line.
Because of the legal technicalities in all this, the conspirators have, naturally,
retained an attorney, a fellow by the name of "Tannhäuser." (Now it’s
beginning to sound like that Ring Cycle thing again.)
The tightfisted Duke, in the meantime, has decided to get married to a very wealthy
Baroness so as better to secure his own financial future.
Speaking of weddings, it turns out that on the very day that the curtain goes up, a
handsome fellow named "Ludwig," the leading man in the theater company is,
coincidentally, scheduled to marry one of the actresses in the company.
So far this all makes perfect sense right? Fine. Now let’s raise the curtain and
see what’s under it – I mean see what develops.
First of all, the leading man’s wedding plans are not going very smoothly. It
turns out that the despicable Grand Duke has summoned all of the parsons in town to a
convocation to discuss his wedding to the wealthy Baroness.
What else could go wrong? Well, as you know, all conspiracies and secret societies must
have a secret password or sign so that you know you are talking to a fellow traveler. We
notice that there is a second-rate bakery behind the theater that peddles very greasy
sausage rolls, a Germanic delicacy.
These particular sausage rolls are so bad that the conspiracy has adopted them as their
secret sign. First, you eat a sausage roll. If the other person then manages to eat one,
you know it’s safe to talk about the conspiracy.
Do you detect the rapid approach of a plot complication?
Of course! Our leading man runs into the Duke’s detective and starts a
conversation. Always cautious, Ludwig quickly chokes down a sausage roll. In return, the
other guy eats three of them! So, naturally, our hero tells him all the details of the
plot. Fortunately, by the time he finishes, the agent is laughing so hard he hasn’t
the strength to arrest him.
Always astute, Ludwig immediately suspects something may have gone wrong, so he returns
to the theater to report to his co-conspirators. They, of course, are very sympathetic and
comfort him with words such as, "You booby you." and "you lump of
indiscrimination!"
After this development, the entire company is convinced that they will be hung, except
for their calm, cool, attorney who comes up with an ingenious solution. Recalling the law
about dueling with a deck of cards, he suggests that the theater manager (Dummkopf’s
the name – Ernest Dummkopf) and Ludwig, the leading man, have one of these
"statutory" duels.
Then the winner goes to the Duke, turns state’s evidence and agrees to tell all if
given total immunity from prosecution. (We’ve seen this done recently in our own
country, haven’t we?)
In his testimony he is to blame everything on the loser of the duel who can’t be
prosecuted either because he is legally "dead." And, as luck would have it, the
dueling law expires at the end of that very day so that the "dead" man can come
back to life almost immediately. He can’t be hung then because you are required to
die only once per lifetime. (In a little-known bit of trivia, this is actually the source
of those immortal words, "I regret that I have but one life to give for my country.")
So they draw cards and Ludwig draws the ace and Ernest draws the king. At which point
Ernest immediately "drops dead," in the legal sense.
Meantime, the detective has delivered his report to the Duke who is devastated by the
news. Not only does he feel sick (hasn’t eaten properly in weeks) but now he finds
out that he will probably be deposed on his own wedding day.
He has picked this particular day because it is the 21st birthday of the Princess he
was engaged to in infancy. By the end of the day, her claim on him elapses so he can marry
the wealthy Baroness rather than the stone-broke Princess.
While the Duke is having a quiet nervous breakdown in front of his palace, Ludwig
wanders up ready to confess his part in the conspiracy. The Duke remonstrates that he
would give "anything" to get out of the mess he is in. "Anything?"
responds Ludwig, and suddenly hits upon the idea of having a statutory duel directly with
the Duke rather than going through all the trouble of a proper coup d’état.
He and the Duke agree to the duel, only they rig it so Ludwig has the ace up his
sleeve. Thus Ludwig now becomes The Grand Duke!
One little detail that I mentioned above now comes into play. Remember that business in
the duel law about assuming all the losers benefits and obligations? Well, it turns out
that the "benefits and obligations" clause includes fiancés and wives!
When Ludwig (already engaged to be married to his actress sweetheart, Lisa) beat Ernest
in the card game, Ludwig became theater manager and Duke-elect if the coup came off. Thus
he had to also take on the leading lady, Julia, who was under contractual obligation to
play the part of the Grand Duchess.
Likewise, when he beat the actual Duke, he not only inherited the Baroness, but also
the stone-broke Princess, if she should show up to claim him before the end of the day.
Wouldn’t you know it, but the Princess’ father, while trying to calculate the
odds of his ever getting out of debtor’s prison, has invented a little spinning-wheel
game which he (being French) naturally called "roulette." (Oh, did I mention
that the name of his little Principality was "Monte Carlo?" ) Sorry about that.
So, in one sitting, he became very wealthy, and immediately set out with his daughter
to claim the Duke’s hand.
But what do they find? Why it’s Ludwig, whose first official act upon becoming
Grand Duke was to extend the "statutory duel" law for another 100 years! His
triumph is somewhat tempered by his discovery that he is not only engaged to his own girl,
but also must marry the leading lady who is playing the Duchess, and is also expected to
marry the dreadnought of a Baroness!
And now he learns that he has been secretly engaged to a fourth woman for the past 20
years! Just as she is about to drag him off to additional nuptials, the two
"dead" guys show up with the attorney again. It seems as though there was a bit
of a misinterpretation of the statutory duel law. It turns out that the fine print calls
for the ace to count as the lowest rather than as the highest card.
Oopsie, this means (in reverse order of happening) that he had no authority to extend
the dueling law, he isn’t the Grand Duke so he doesn’t have to marry the
Princess, that he doesn’t have to marry the Baroness, that he doesn’t have to
marry the leading lady, he is not the Theater Manager, and he is now free to marry Lisa.
This is about where we came in.
Then finally to bring everything to a grinding halt, the clock strikes, the day ends,
the law expires, and the entire cast collapses with migraine brain cramps.
Several of my friends bet me that I couldn’t explain the plot of The Grand Duke in
one page. They were right.
--Mike Storie
