A Soviet era fairytale

© C A Lovegrove

The Dragon:
A Satiric Fable in Three Acts
by Eugene Schwarz [1944]. 
Дракон. Пьеса в трех действиях translated from the Russian by Elizabeth Reynolds Hapgood (1961),
introduction by Norris Houghton, 
production notes by Gillian Phillips.
Heinemann Educational Books, 1969.

In his introduction to Elizabeth Reynolds Hapgood’s translation of Evgeny Schwartz’s play Norris Houghton outlines how Soviet-era authors often camouflaged their satire and closet criticism of Soviet policies by presenting them as fairytales, a practice with a long tradition in Russia.

And so it is with The Dragon: superficially a pantomime with comic characters, romance and a mythical beast, it nevertheless has a deadly serious purpose underlying the fun and games. Does the dragon get slain? The audience waits with baited breath to see if the hero fulfils his task and gets the girl or dies in the attempt.

But if the beast is indeed defeated, who or what will take its place, and will the replacement be an improvement or simply a repeat of what came before? And what would be the reaction of the townsfolk if the hero did succeed?

© C A Lovegrove

We all know tales of heroes defeating the dragon: Perseus killing the sea monster Cetus, Bellerophon slaying the Chimaera, and St George rescuing the princess from Silene in Libya. In this play by Evgeny Schwartz (here rendered from the Russian as Eugene Schwarz) assigns the role of overcoming the monster to the Arthurian knight errant Sir Lancelot. And such a brave altruistic individual he is, if almost too perfect.

Lancelot happens upon the household of a certain citizen called Charlemagne and his determinedly independent daughter Elsa, and learns that for four centuries the town has been under the sway of a three-headed dragon, a creature which can shapeshift to human form in the guise of three different but equally unpleasant men. Naturally – even though he knows he may be mortally wounded – the knight challenges the monster to single combat; but Lancelot has also noticed that the citizenry are strangely acquiescent, passively accepting the dragon’s claim to huge stocks of food and the life of one maiden every year. And this time it’s Elsa’s turn.

Will Lancelot achieve his task? Will certain talking creatures – a cat and a donkey, for example – give him aid and advice? Will some compassionate citizens furnish him with means to win, such as a sword, a flying carpet and a cap of invisibility? Or will the rascally burgomaster (who pretends to be mad) and his equally rascally son Henry conspire with the despotic reptile to perpetuate the status quo, to their own advantage? The Dragon thinks he has the measure of the humans he controls:

“You can cut a man’s body in two and he will die. If you tear his soul out, he becomes submissive. […] Do you know why the Burgomaster pretends to be crazy? To hide the fact that he has no soul at all.”

According to the introduction by Norris Houghton the author wrote this play – called a ‘piece’ in the Russian subtitle, although truly it’s the satiric fable this translation deems it – in 1942. It doesn’t seem to have been performed until a year or two later, though, when it survived three or four performances in Moscow before being banned. (It wasn’t published until 1960, and given this translation a year later.) Why was it taken off the stage? Quite probably because, although Schwartz was against Nazism and Italian fascism, it could equally well be seen as a criticism of Stalin’s repressive regime, as well as a condemnation of Russian citizens for not resisting Soviet tyranny.

Interestingly, in 1944 George Orwell was writing Animal Farm (published in 1945), another beast fable which satirised despotism, seeing the popular revolution which overthrew one autocracy also unknowingly allowing its replacement by a similarly power-mad autocratic regime. I can imagine the author of Animal Farm agreeing with the sentiments expressed by Schwartz in his play An ordinary miracle (1956):

“In a fairy tale, the ordinary and the miraculous are very conveniently placed side by side and are easily understood if you look at the fairy tale as a fairy tale. As in childhood. Don’t look for hidden meaning in it. A fairy tale is told not in order to hide, but in order to reveal, to say with all your might, at the top of your voice, what you think.”

But fairytales only work well if they tell a good story and not merely because they hammer home a moral, and The Dragon succeeds in its purpose to entertain. The choice of names from across European traditions – Charlemagne and Lancelot – the inclusion of talking animals like the quietly manipulative Cat and the long-suffering Donkey, and the employment of magical objects like flying carpets and caps of invisibility underline the deliberate absence of realism, while comedic patter, snatches of song, misunderstandings and the like all advertise that it’s perhaps all being played primarily for a laugh.

It will, when performed, also likely appeal across generations. In fact this Heinemann Educational publication includes production notes from when the play was apparently well received after performances at Bedminster Down School in Bristol. (Coincidentally this secondary school was where, some half a dozen years later, I was to do my teaching practice before qualifying.)

Schwartz was well used to writing plays based on fairytales, having successfully adapted many Hans Christian Andersen stories in this way. This one certainly deserves to be better known through being regularly performed, if only because it would continue to resonate in most political situations imaginable. This satire about optical illusions becoming optical delusions still applies today: propagandist Henry’s communiqués, on the Dragon’s aerial combat with Lancelot, which declare that military action is “proceeding in accordance with the Dragon’s plans,” run counter to what is patently obvious – that the Dragon is losing – and reflect what we know about soulless politicians appealing to their base of soulless supporters.

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#ReadingTheTheatre: EnterEnchanted.com

Read for Lory’s Reading the Theatre meme for this month; the story deliberately echoes the myth of St George (whose feast day was 23rd April).

Evgeny Schwartz (with cat).

Also read in anticipation of Mallika’s Reading the Meow: Schwarz, clearly an ailurophile, of course features a talking cat in The Dragon.

#ReafungTheMeow