Monologue

Strammfest Monologue from Annajanska, the Bolshevik Empress

From Annajanska, the Bolshevik Empress by Bernard Shaw

male · anguished · 2:57 min

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Waste of paper. You might as well send reports to an infant school. (He throws his head on the table with a groan.) (SCHNEIDEKIND: Tired out, Sir?) O Schneidekind, Schneidekind, how can you bear to live? (SCHNEIDEKIND: At my age, sir, I ask myself how can I bear to die?) You are young, young and heartless. You are excited by the revolution: you are attached to abstract things like liberty. But my family has served the Panjandrums of Beotia faithfully for seven centuries. The Panjandrums have kept our place for us at their courts, honored us, promoted us, shed their glory on us, made us what we are. When I hear you young men declaring that you are fighting for civilization, for democracy, for the overthrow of militarism, I ask myself how can a man shed his blood for empty words used by vulgar tradesmen and common laborers: mere wind and stink. (He rises, exalted by his theme.) A king is a splendid reality, a man raised above us like a god. You can see him; you can kiss his hand; you can be cheered by his smile and terrified by his frown. I would have died for my Panjandrum as my father died for his father. Your toiling millions were only too honored to receive the toes of our boots in the proper spot for them when they displeased their betters. And now what is left in life for me? (He relapses into his chair discouraged.) My Panjandrum is deposed and transported to herd with convicts. The army, his pride and glory, is paraded to hear seditious speeches from penniless rebels, with the colonel actually forced to take the chair and introduce the speaker. I myself am made Commander-in-Chief by my own solicitor: a Jew, Schneidekind! a Hebrew Jew! It seems only yesterday that these things would have been the ravings of a madman: today they are the commonplaces of the gutter press. I live now for three objects only: to defeat the enemy, to restore the Panjandrum, and to hang my solicitor.

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40s · despair · power · identity · family · revenge

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