BENSALEM: DIE VERFÜHRERIN VON WISSEN? (I)
{Antoine Lavoisier, Europe's pre-eminent polymath in the latter half of the 18th century, wrote, in a memoir presented to the French National Convention in 1793: "It must not be thought that it is possible to encourage some branches of the arts exclusively and to abandon others; the arts, sciences, even literature, are bound by invisible links that cannot be broken with impunity, as it is mainly from the sciences that the arts are enlightened. ..." On 8th May 1794, this «father» of chemistry and, incidentally, confidant of the Abbé René-Just Haüy, the «father» of crystallography, was summarily tried, convicted, and guillotined.}
Presented here, for the Year 12 student who would like to widen further his or her perspectives in an unorthodox manner, are five fragmentary points which could be mulled over.
Also included here, to leaven these fragments, are selected scenes from the autumn term of Narkover College's third year as a co-educational, bilingual establishment. [... Despite Narkover's recent introduction of both bilingualism and le beau sexe, few (if any) discerning individuals would describe the school as enlightened; indeed, one might waspishly
describe this abecedarian institution as being a bastion of spiritual Gradgrinds. Be that as it may, there is circumstantial evidence that it may well have instituted the country's first Parent-Teacher Evenings, albeit as an unwitting by-product of a former Headmaster's decision to persuade several well-heeled parents in the Victorian era to part with their ill-gotten gains in order to provide the funds required to build the school's arboretum — whose currently mothballed condition fully justifies its soubriquet of «Miss Havisham's Greenhouse». ... Since the inception of these soirées, the participants have almost invariably had a common agenda: that of convincing the others in these scholastic ménages à trois of their irreproachable conduct. Thus, most students, adopting expressions which bring to mind the dead metaphor of «butter not melting», reveal a precocious and altogether unnerving grasp of the ubiquitous «cocktail party effect»; their teachers hint that they could indeed fashion ersatz silk purses out of sows' ears, if only such crab apples would rub their noses on the grindstones that little bit harder; and their parents — bless 'em — hang on like grim death to each mixed metaphor from these ostensible fountains of knowledge. ...]
PLAYLET 10: Le Bonnet de la Liberté ?
First morning of term. Chalice Poison, with a letter in hand, enters her study-dormitory, which prompts Flora Stuart, her dorm-mate, to pause paying attention to Carotene, her guide-dog ...
CHALICE.
Flo, I've a registered letter here for you from your aunt in the States. Would you like me to read it to you?
FLORA.
Ooh! Yes, please, Chalice.
CHALICE.
Right: here goes. (She opens the envelope, then exclaims.) Ah! Your lost necklace! (She reads aloud the letter.) ...
Brummel Lodge,
Miss Flora Stuart, |
CHALICE.
That's it!
FLORA.
Thanks, Chalice. ... Aunt Sylvia is a real treasure; I was dreading having to tell Flashy that I'd lost the necklace — he'd have been justifiably miffed. ...
CHALICE.
And?!
FLORA.
What do you mean: "And"?
CHALICE.
Your lady aunt was not exactly backward in coming forward with her opinions. (She laughs gently.) I do believe that if we had spent any more time there, she'd have arranged a double wedding! (Both girls laugh indecorously.)
FLORA.
Perhaps we should give the lodge a wide berth next year?
CHALICE.
Certainly; ... and perhaps thereafter! (Both girls laugh a shade too forcefully.) ...
Mid-afternoon of the same day. Dr. Alec Desmond Stuart takes the Upper 6th-Remove (Year 13) for their first lesson of General Studies ...
Dr. STUART.
Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.
CLASS.
Afternoon, Sir. ...
Dr. STUART.
Ms. Salice Albero.
SALICE.
Present, Sir.
Dr. STUART.
Ms. Constance Bonacieux.
CONSTANCE.
Present, Sir.
Dr. STUART.
Brown.
BROWN.
Present, Sir.
Dr. STUART.
Ms. Shandy Drynck.
SHANDY.
Present, Sir. ...
Dr. STUART.
Yes, Brown?
BROWN.
Er, ... Sir, is there any good reason why you address the girls by including their forenames, and us lot by only our surnames?
Dr. STUART.
Mmm, ... Good reason? No; probably not. To be honest, I've never given the matter any thought. ... Why, do I offend your amour-propre? (Brown frowns.)
BROWN.
My what, Sir?
Dr. STUART.
Your self-esteem, vanity, ...
BROWN.
Um? ... No, Sir.
Dr. STUART.
Splendid! Let's move on. ... Where was I? (He looks down again at the register.) Ah! ... East.
EAST.
Present, Sir.
Dr. STUART.
Flashman.
FLASHMAN.
Present, Sir.
Dr. STUART.
Ms. Malice A. Forthort.
MALICE.
Present, Sir.
Dr. STUART.
Ms. Alice Lidell-Lonsdale.
ALICE.
Present, Sir.
Dr. STUART.
McKechnie.
McKECHNIE.
Present, Sir.
Dr. STUART.
Merridew.
MERRIDEW.
Present, Sir.
Dr. STUART.
Mumford.
MUMFORD.
Present, Sir.
Dr. STUART.
Pattullo.
PATTULLO.
Present, Sir.
Dr. STUART.
Piggy: mort. ... Ms. Chalice Poison.
CHALICE.
Present, Sir.
Dr. STUART.
Ms. Popsy Rice.
POPSY.
Present, Sir.
Dr. STUART.
Ms. Flora Stuart.
FLORA.
Present, Sir.
Dr. STUART.
Ms. Lolli Stich.
LOLLI.
Present, Sir.
Dr. STUART.
Ms. Trudi Taplow.
TRUDI.
Present, Sir.
Dr. STUART.
Unman.
UNMAN.
Present, Sir.
Dr. STUART.
Wittering.
WITTERING.
Present, Sir.
Dr. STUART.
Zigo.
ZIGO.
Present, Sir. ...
Dr. STUART.
Now, as you are all doubtless aware, the Upper Sixth-Remove is traditionally responsible for producing and performing Narkover's winter term play — the evening before the carol service — and, ... Yes, Flashman?
FLASHMAN.
Sir, I think we may be slightly ahead of you there.
Dr. STUART.
Indeed? ... And the "we" being?
FLASHMAN.
Yes, Sir. ... I mean, during our holiday in the States, when Spats and I were left to our own devices — when Chalice and Flo were doing their own thing, plucking their eyebrows, varnishing their toenails, and so on — we decided to thrash around a few ideas.
Dr. STUART.
Ideas for what: an avant-garde production of one of the canonical plays, perhaps?
PATTULLO.
No, Sir. More in the line of an original script; or, more specifically, a palimpsest.
Dr. STUART.
Excuse me! That's surely a contradiction in terms? ...
PATTULLO.
Well, Sir, following one of Mrs. Brummel's suggestions last year — within a discussion of Duncan and Ziggy's adaption of Gueullette's The Blind, One-Armed, Deaf Mute — and which she called 'appropriation', we plan to re-use one or more scripts — that have, for all practical purposes, been lost — by selective textual editing and additions. ...
Dr. STUART.
Given that a palimpsest is most commonly defined as, 'A manuscript on which an earlier text has been partially or completely effaced and the parchment re-used for another.', I contend that your use of this term would be rather misleading; a misappropriation, in fact. ... Do I take it that your emendations would be sufficiently substantive as to preclude simply calling your treatment an adaption?
FLASHMAN & PATTULLO.
Oh yes, Sir! (In unison.)
Dr. STUART.
Well then, you might consider coining a neologism.
TRUDI.
A what, Sir?
Dr. STUART.
A neologism: ... a new word.
FLASHMAN.
Such as, Sir?
Dr. STUART.
Ah! That's your prerogative; ... although should you wish to retain the root 'palimpsest', I suggest you give serious thought to the use of a prefix, such as: epi, upon; ideo, one's own; neo, new — a commonly used maid-of-all-work; para, along side. Your choice! ... Now, if the rest of the class are happy to leave themselves to the mercy of Flashman and Pattullo (As there are no expressions of dissent, only those of relief or indifference, he addresses F. and P. again.), may I ask you two to have something ready for Mrs. Brummel and myself to read or see before half-term?
FLASHMAN & PATTULLO.
Yes, Sir. (In unison.)
Dr. STUART.
Thank you. ... Yes, Flora?
FLORA.
Sir, at the start of last term, you intimated to us that, following the Headmaster's suggestion, you intended to write a play during the long vacation.
Dr. STUART.
No, Flora, I made no such undertaking, (General mutterings of disappointment and disapproval.) Let me finish, please. ... but, in the event, I did manage a few scribblings; and, other things being equal — though they rarely are — I should have at least one script finished by the end of term, ... which may prove a mixed blessing for one and all.
MALICE.
How so? ... Sir.
Dr. STUART.
No explanations now; patience, after all, is a virtue. (His tone is pompous.) Moreover, it is high time that I wore my other hat, as your class tutor; in particular, going through last summer term's reports. (He glances at the register.) Yes, first up: Salice, please. ...
Late one afternoon, in the 1st week of term. Pattullo, looking a shade flustered, suddenly notices Chalice a short distance ahead ...
PATTULLO.
Ah! There you are, Chalice. Have you been yet?
CHALICE.
Been where?
PATTULLO.
To pay your respects?
CHALICE.
To whom? Where? What are you talking about?
PATTULLO.
In order, for she who is slow on the uptake (He smiles in feigned disdain.): your late brother, Xavier Piggy; ... his commemorative plaque in... (C. interrupts.)
CHALICE.
Oh! Spats, I completely forgot! I feel thoroughly ashamed.
PATTULLO.
And so you should be; by definition, anniversaries come but once a year! (He smiles mischievously.)
CHALICE.
Yes, yes; no need to rub it in. Shall we go after high-tea?
PATTULLO.
Yes; that would be my privilege. ...
Late one evening, in the 1st week of term. A despondent Pattullo enters his study-dormitory, which prompts Flashman, his dorm-mate, to pause studying ...
FLASHMAN.
Ah ! Monsieur le metteur en scène» revient en triomphe ! (P.'s response to his jovial sally is to slump in a chair.) Qu'y a-t-il, Spats ?... La lecture de notre néopalimpseste, n'était-elle pas couronnée de succès ?
PATTULLO.
Non, Flashy ; surtout pas. En fait, quel désastre !
FLASHMAN.
Désastre ?!
PATTULLO.
Oui ; nettement !... Tout le monde en a exprimé une mauvaise opinion ; la majorité avec délicatesse, heureusement.
FLASHMAN.
Je te parie que cette majorité ne comprit ni Witters ni Jack !
PATTULLO.
Exactement ! À son style inimitable, Witters m'a dit : "What a load of bollocks!" (Both share laughter.) D'autre part, Flashy, certains ont dit que nos nouveaux gribouillis sur les covenants, pour ainsi dire, se sont révélés la promesse, mais que les deux parades liées de Gueullette ne soutiennent ni le poids ni les profondeurs de telles nouveautés.
FLASHMAN.
Mmm,... C'est dommage : mais, n'importe... Il faut passer au plan B ?
PATTULLO.
Tu veux dire notre quasi-palimpseste fondé sur ce piètre drame de 'Monsieur Anonyme' au sujet des moines ?
FLASHMAN.
Oui.
PATTULLO.
Mais, Flashy, nous avons seulement notre traduction : et moi, je n'aurai pas le temps d'écrire les nouveaux passages avant les petites vacances.
FLASHMAN.
Moi non plus ! (He smiles.) Toutefois, nous pouvons lancer ce ballon d'essai, comme tel, durant cette moitié ; puis, esquisser de tels passages pendant cette semaine-là ; enfin, improviser avec le reste des filles dans le courant de la deuxième moitié ?...
PATTULLO.
Bravo ! Tu es un génie ! (He smiles.) C'est réglé !... Et maintenant je vais me pieuter ; je suis crevé...
Late one morning, in the 2nd week. In the surgery adjoining the sanatorium, Dr. Gustav Krautmann and Matron Nightingale are discussing case notes arising from the routine termly check-ups of the students; Mr. Mervyn Bassett Pond, the Headmaster, knocks on the door ...
MATRON.
Come in! (The headmaster enters.)
Mr. POND.
Oh! You're still in conference; I do apologize. ... Please excuse me, Matron. (To Dr. K.) Gustav, would you be so kind as to pop into my study after you have finished here?
Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Regarding the annual check-ups of the male members of staff?
Mr. POND.
Yes.
Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Certainly, Bassett. ... Now, since you're here, you might be able to suggest a solution to a most pressing problem vexing Matron and me.
Mr. POND.
Which is?
Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Toby Mumford's hearing: which, the specialists state in no uncertain terms, has deteriorated much faster than expected over the past six months or so. (He looks at Matron.)
MATRON.
And we feel that, unless he is provided with at least a rudimentary knowledge of both lip-reading and sign language before he leaves the school next summer, he will be at an acute disadvantage when he goes into the wider world.
Mr. POND.
We will have failed him ourselves?
MATRON.
Precisely, Headmaster.
Mr. POND.
Mmm? Let me see. ... Yes! I'll sort out some funding with the Chairman of the Governors this afternoon. ... Yes; leave it with me. Thank you! (He smiles warmly, then leaves.) ...
Early one evening, in the 3rd week. In his study, Dr. S. is in the middle of a severe coughing fit. His daughter, Flora, accompanied by her guide-dog, arrives outside the door; then she knocks ...
Dr. STUART.
Veni! (F. opens the door, and stands framed in the doorway.) Ah! Good evening, Flora. ... Please, do come in. (His tone is warm and encouraging.)
FLORA.
Er, ... No, it's alright, Sir; I've only come to give you a message. Mother says that: 'She and Philip have accepted an invitation to attend the Brummels' Thanksgiving dinner, and she'll presumably see you either there or beforehand.'
Dr. STUART.
I see. Thank you, Flora. (She makes a motion to withdraw.) Er, ... One moment, please, Flora. This Philip, ... what's he like?
FLORA.
Mmm, ... I don't know how to answer that question, or even whether I should. We've always gotten on well: but I don't really regard him as my stepfather — after all, one father is more than enough!
Dr. STUART.
And I don't know how to answer that back-handed compliment! (He laughs gently with an undertone of embarrassment.)
FLORA.
Well, I'll save you the inconvenience. See you anon, Sir. Come on, Carotene. (She withdraws.) ...
Late one afternoon, in the 4th week. In his study, the Headmaster is standing behind his desk, in front of which are four chairs; to one side of the room there is a trolley laden with confectionary and soft drinks. Brown, East, Mumford, and Unman arrive outside the door; then Unman knocks ...
Mr. POND.
Enter! (The four boys do so, each looking a shade nervous.) Ah! There you are. ... Please, do sit down (He points to the chairs.), and please do look a little less apprehensive; you are not in trouble: far from it! ... As evidence of my good intentions (He smiles mischievously.), my lady wife has prepared choice morsels. (He points to the trolley.) But, business before pleasure. (He smiles warmly and then directs his gaze successively on B., E., and U.) Now, ... Hamish, ... Scudamore, ... and James, you three are aware that Toby here is going slowly deaf? (These three boys nod.) I have spoken to Toby's parents, who have given me permission to share with you this confidence: ... the specialists believe that Toby will probably be completely deaf within a couple of years or so. (The three boys look rather shocked and each gives M. a look of genuine sympathy.) Any questions so far?
BROWN.
Sir, surely medical advances will improve Mumsy's — I mean, Toby's hearing?
Mr. POND.
I would dearly like to share your optimism, Hamish, but all the specialists agree that the decline in Toby's hearing is irreversible; a result of a genetically-inherited condition (He glances at some notes.), something about homozygous recessive, ... whatever that means. (He shrugs diffidently.)
MUMFORD.
Well, Sir, that's a phenotypic condition observed only when both parental alleles are recessive.
Mr. POND.
Thank you, Toby; but, I regret to say that I'm none the wiser. ... Age, like blissful ignorance, sometimes has its advantages. (He smiles and all four boys respond in like manner.) Now, some two weeks ago, I persuaded the Chairman of the Governors to release funds so that Narkover could employ someone who can teach lip-reading and sign language. And, most fortuitously, Mr. Gowers put me in contact with a certain Mr. Couch, an old school chum of his, who, so he claims, is a distant descendant of Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, who was one of this country's foremost experts on the 'Art of Writing'. (He leans forward and speaks in a mock conspiratorial manner.) I say "most fortuitously", because — between ourselves, of course — Mr. Gowers is, as we all know, barely awake half the time: bless him! (All four boys laugh.) Be that as it may, Mr. Couch and his lady wife — doing the distaff bit — will take up their positions by the start of the second-half of term.
EAST.
Please, Sir, ... "distaff"?
Mr. POND.
Strictly speaking, the maternal side. So, here, the good lady will act as a housemother; ... making sure you young chaps reacquaint yourselves occasionally with clean togs, soap, comb, and the like. (All four boys laugh.) All of which nonsense brings me to the crux of the matter: namely, I would like you each to consider joining Toby in learning the rudiments of lip-reading and sign language. ... ...
EAST.
Er, ... Sir, er, ... do we have to make a decision today?
Mr. POND.
No, Scudamore; absolutely not. Indeed, to do so would be most imprudent. Each of you needs to discuss the matter first with your guardians, ... though, should you so wish, I will write a letter to them detailing the possible advantages and disadvantages. ...
UNMAN.
Sir, aside from helping Mumsy, what might be an advantage?
Mr. POND.
Well, James, you should be able to obtain a recognized and useful qualification; in the medium- to long-term this may prove more valuable than, say, an advanced qualification in French.
UNMAN.
And a disadvantage, Sir?
Mr. POND.
Ah! There you have me. I see none at present; but I assure you that I will do my level best to determine what these might be. ...
BROWN.
Sir, is this ... er, Mr. Couch deaf, himself, by any chance?
Mr. POND.
No, Hamish, he's not. I would not have employed a deaf teacher for Toby, because his needs are so pressing. But your question is a very good one. (He smiles warmly and appreciatively at B.) Whilst I have already given some consideration to our admissions' policy for pupils with sensorial disadvantages, I must give as much or more attention to the recruitment of staff with same. ... Yes; thank you, Hamish, for reminding me. ... ... Now, as we all know, I am 'captain of the ship Narkover' (All four boys smile.): but my wife, the 'lady admiral', will have me 'before the mast' in a trice (All four boys laugh.), unless you start to make serious inroads into the 'ship's biscuits' over there. (He points to the trolley, gestures to the boys to move in direction of same; as they do so, and avail themselves, he selects and removes one of several stamp albums from the shelves.) Perchance, are any of you interested in philately? ... ... I see from your complete lack of even polite interest that the answer is a resounding no! ... No matter. (He sighs; the boys look at one another, shake their heads, then smile.) ...
Penultimate evening of the first half of term, in the 6th week. Dr. S. and Mrs. Chandeleur Brummel, each holding a copy of the script below, are in the front row of the school's theater. Flora, with her guide-dog, appears in front of the curtain, then reads the names of the cast, etc., from her Braille copy of this script, before
moving off-stage ...
FLORA.
In a semi-dress performance, with, in order of appearance, [P. R.] as [Mlle ...], [M. A. F.] as [Mlle ..., ...], ... ...
| Popsy Rice | Mlle LUCILE. |
| Malice A. Forthort | Mlle BÉNIGNE, Lucile's governess. |
| Jack Merridew | LIEUTENANT PIERRE VALÈRE, officer in the local militia, and Lucile's suitor. |
| Alice L.-Lonsdale | Mme JAVOTTE, oyster seller and «poissarde». |
| Hamish Brown | DOM RENARD, reverend prior. |
| Scudamore East | CHEVALIER de RICHMOND, retired soldier. |
| James Unman | DOM RÔLET, reverend bursar. |
| George Wittering | DOM GOURMET. |
| Frederick Zigo | DOM SUCRÉ. |
| Salice Albero | Mme MATHURINE, farmer's wife. |
| Duncan McKechnie | CAPTAIN RODOMONT, officer in the district's grenadiers. |
| Ralph Pattullo | GRENADIER 1. |
| Rudolph Flashman | GRENADIER 2. |
| Toby Mumford | M. NOTAIRE, public notary. |
... the Upper Sixth-Remove present their production of:
........................................................................................
MONASTIC SHENANIGANS
An anonymous Parisian play of 1790,
translated and adapted by
Rudolph Flashman and Ralph Pattullo
of Narkover College, near Borchester, England.
ACT 1.
[Costumes: Mlle Lucile, long green skirt, white long-sleeved blouse; Mlle Bénigne, long-sleeved yellow dress, wide-brimmed bonnet adorned with large butterflies; Lt. Valère, uniform of the local militia, sword; Mme Javotte, plain dull-colored dress, shawl; Prior, conventual dress of a Benedictine monk over a slight degree of padding; Chevalier de Richmond, officer's uniform, wooden leg, wooden crutch, iron hand-hook, sword, lightly-powdered wig.]
Curtain rises, to reveal a room adjacent to the parlor of a monastery; upstage, a grilled door, leading to the cloister; stage right, a wooden door, leading to the parlor; stage left, a bench.
SCENE 1. Mlle Lucile, Mlle Bénigne, engaged in polite conversation: Lt. Valère, in high dudgeon, enters via the parlor door.
VALÈRE.
What's this I hear, Lucile: you would give up a lover who adores you?!
Mlle LUCILE.
I do love you, Pierre; I admit it with all my heart. Yet, if you were in my position, you too would feel beholden.
VALÈRE.
But who is this absolutely barbaric man forcing you to marry someone whom you've never met?!
Mlle LUCILE.
My uncle; the prior. He has been my guardian since childhood, and now wishes to establish me. Is it not just to defer to his wishes? ... Rest assured, my heart is not in it.
VALÈRE.
What then will become of me? ... O divinity of my soul! ... As I shall not be able to survive the misfortune of losing you, I must flee far away from this place: so you will never see me again.
Mlle LUCILE.
Oh! ... Pierre, please be reasonable. I'll always be pleased to see you.
VALÈRE.
No; I shall join the gallant Brabançons and, exposing myself to all manner of danger, I shall find an inevitable death: which can be but the only consolation for a broken heart.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
Do not despair, Lieutenant Valère, you have strength in reserve.
VALÈRE.
Ah! Mlle Bénigne, deign to speak to Lucile in my favor; she will listen to you. Obedient for so long to your counsel, she will follow your advice: which can only be favorable to me.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
I could not advise her about something which is repugnant to the delicacy of my conscience. You should be grateful to me for allowing you to speak to her so frankly in my presence. She has a tongue in her head; and, when one is in love, I believe that one must be courageous.
Mlle LUCILE.
[To Bénigne.] What do you wish I do, Mademoiselle? Must I expose myself to incur the displeasure of my uncle? ... If he were only my uncle, I would resist him, because over time I would regain his friendship: but he is a monk, and you have always told me that monks never forgive.
VALÈRE.
[Interjecting.] Eh?! What does the forgiveness of monks matter to us, provided that we live for each other and are happy? Certainly, once they have been forced to return to the world, they should become meeker and more manageable. We shall not see them disturbing domestic harmony; and should they still seek to interfere, we have our swords! [He places a hand on the hilt of his sword.]
SCENE 2. The Same, Mme Javotte: the latter enters precipitously via the parlor door, and hurriedly places a hand on Valère's arm.
Mme JAVOTTE.
Easy does it, my handsome young gentleman, unless you want to kill the prior's niece? Or do you believe that love is made with a sword in hand? [To Bénigne, waspishly.] And you, with the pretentious airs, you'd let him do so! Don't imagine I can't read your eyes partially hidden under those butterflies; you know how to maneuver behind the scenes to get what you want.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
[Disdainfully.] Skivvy, I have nothing to say to you.
Mme JAVOTTE.
Ah! I'm a skivvy now, just because I tell her a few home truths.
Mlle LUCILE.
Mme Javotte, Mlle Bénigne is my governess.
Mme JAVOTTE.
Please forgive me, Mlle Lucile, I thought she had nothing to do with your affairs. In that case, I forgive her, because she has raised a most personable young lady.
VALÈRE.
Madame, if you but knew the sentiments of my heart, you would be very far from believing that I would wish to do the slightest harm to the adorable Lucile. I love her: and yet I'm without hope, because a monk stands between us.
Mme JAVOTTE.
Ah! I begin to see the problem. [To Lucile.] But, Mademoiselle, isn't your guardian the prior?
Mlle LUCILE.
Alas, he's one and the same.
Mme JAVOTTE.
Whom does he want to make you marry? A Bacchus with three tails? Isn't this young man here well-built enough?!
Mlle LUCILE.
An old disabled officer, who has a wooden leg, an iron hand, a glass eye, and a silver chin.
Mme JAVOTTE.
Mmm? ... And if this officer on the scrapheap took it into his head to make a patriotic donation of his chin, would your uncle still want him as his nephew-in-law?
Mlle LUCILE.
Yes; I believe so.
Mme JAVOTTE.
Ah! I see clearly now: the prior wants you married, not for yourself, but for himself. The priests and monks will always have 'nieces' and 'cousins'; it's an old sin, which will be very difficult to correct unless they themselves are married.
Mlle LUCILE.
[Looking shocked.] What do you mean by that, Madame?
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
Should one speak like that in front of the youth?
Mme JAVOTTE.
[To Bénigne.] I know what I'm talking about; and they're not children.
VALÈRE.
Mme Javotte is right; she knows them only too well.
Mme JAVOTTE.
No matter; you'll be married together! [To Lucile.] Do you understand, my dear lass? [To Valère.] And you, my lad, I promise you to her. ... Now: stand up straight! An officer shouldn't look like the pupil of a military academy.
VALÈRE.
How indebted I shall be to you, Madame; Lucile and I shall look upon you as a second mother. ... But what steps will you take from here; do you intend to speak about the matter to the prior?
Mme JAVOTTE.
No, no; I'll not say a word about it to him. Like all monks, he's shrewd and would seek a different way of getting what he wants. ... Don't worry about anything; this is my affair. Now: leave, since I fear that the prior may surprise you here. [Valère exits via the parlor door.] And you, Mlle Lucile, pretend to agree to everything that your uncle requires of you. [Lucile nods in apparent acquiescence.]
SCENE 3. Mlle Bénigne, Mlle Lucile, Mme Javotte, Prior, Chevalier de Richmond: the latter two enter via the cloister door.
PRIOR.
[To Lucile.] My dearest niece, I sent for you because I wanted to introduce you to the Chevalier de Richmond, who is happy to honor you by giving his hand in marriage.
Mlle LUCILE.
[Disdainfully.] The chevalier is most kind.
RICHMOND.
[Tremulously.] Mademoiselle, please allow an old soldier to present you his respects, and to assure you that all the wounds he received in a score of battles are naught in comparison to those which your eyes do to his heart.
Mlle LUCILE.
I'm sorry to have wounded you so, Chevalier; I would have much preferred never to have set eyes on you.
RICHMOND.
Your naivety enchants me, and I'm pleased to have lived seventy-and-five years to bring ourselves mutual happiness.
Mlle LUCILE.
[Aside.] May you be happy all alone!
RICHMOND.
[Aside.] The noble soul!
PRIOR.
It is Mlle Bénigne who raised her; and one can say that she performed her task with honor. In particular, she has always advised my niece to distance herself from the young scatterbrains, who know only how to pirouette and to click their heels.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
I've always counseled the young lady to respect the wishes of her dear uncle. And the chevalier should be convinced that it is he who first created the taste for marriage in Mlle Lucile's heart.
Mme JAVOTTE.
Yes; he's handsome, with a good figure.
PRIOR.
[Looking skeptical.] Mme Javotte, I'm not sure I believe you there. What do you mean by that?
Mme JAVOTTE.
[In measured tones.] I mean, Prior, that everything you do is for good; and, liking sturdy qualities, you want to marry experience with youth.
PRIOR.
Indeed so. I've taken great care to arrange the chevalier for my niece; he is a gentleman, who will consider her like his child.
Mme JAVOTTE.
[Aside.] Take care that he doesn't become a child himself! [Aloud to Lucile.] Mlle Lucile, it's right for you to marry the chevalier; at least you'll not have a husband who will seek his fortune elsewhere. And, in truth, these days you're assured only of what you hold.
PRIOR.
[To Lucile.] Mme Javotte has always given sound advice.
Mlle LUCILE.
I appreciate Mme Javotte's goodwill in interesting herself in my welfare.
PRIOR.
[To Javotte.] And, aside from his personal qualities, the chevalier has a pension of at least 6,000 crowns for each of his campaigns: despite the attention of the cartwrights and saddlers who have taken charge of the nation.
Mme JAVOTTE.
[Severely.] Tread very carefully, Prior; I'm a good patriot, and I'll not listen to mockery. I accompanied my comrades to Versailles last year, and I could easily bring a procession to your monastery's door: which would hardly be to your liking!
PRIOR.
[Conciliatory tone.] Don't be angry, Mme Javotte.
Mme JAVOTTE.
I'm not angry, Prior; but when it concerns the nation, I'd denounce my own father if he were treasonous. ...
PRIOR.
[Awkwardly.] Er, .... You know that we are giving a meal this evening, so as to conclude my niece's marriage: do bring us some good oysters.
Mme JAVOTTE.
I've already taken your order; you'll be satisfied.
PRIOR.
Mmm, ... I've noticed that, since you started provisioning the National Guard, we are no longer so well served; they eat closed oysters, and you bring us the opened ones.
Mme JAVOTTE.
You're mistaken, Prior; it's merely that in this monastery your eyes are bigger than your bellies! [She exits via the parlor door.]
SCENE 4. The Same, except Mme Javotte.
RICHMOND.
[To the prior.] My word, that gossip is certainly not lost for words!
PRIOR.
True. Yet she is a most obliging woman, who has been a good friend of our house for more than fifteen years now; she has proven useful whenever we've wanted to have some small treat without announcing it to all and sundry.
RICHMOND.
I've always known you to be a wise and cautious man.
PRIOR.
You'll always find me the same; and my niece will carry out dutifully all the good advice given to her to please you.
RICHMOND.
You have, presumably, instructed the young lady about all my physical and moral qualities?
PRIOR.
My niece is not unaware of anything; and Mlle Bénigne has informed her about all aspects of marriage.
RICHMOND.
[To Bénigne.] Thank you, good lady. [Preparing to leave, the prior places a hand on his arm.]
PRIOR.
Chevalier, please remain a moment as we have some business to discuss. [To Lucile and Bénigne.] I expect both of you at supper. [They exit via the parlor door.]
SCENE 5. Prior, Chevalier de Richmond.
PRIOR.
[Removing some parchments from his pocket, and handing them to the chevalier.] Here you are: the titles of nobility that I promised you.
RICHMOND.
Do they date back to the first centuries?
PRIOR.
Indeed so; we've taken your family's origins back to Julius Caesar's time.
RICHMOND.
So, will my descendants be able to claim to be knights of Malta, counts of Lyon and Strasbourg: even though I'm merely an upstart officer?
PRIOR.
Without question.
RICHMOND.
No one will be able to dispute their authenticity with me?
PRIOR.
Fear nothing; more than three-quarters of the noble families of France owe their position to us. Furthermore, between you, me and these four walls, we made similar titles to assure ourselves of our fiefs, seigniories, and estates.
RICHMOND.
But how do you make them? These parchments appear to be more than one hundred years' old: yet it has been barely a week since they were written.
PRIOR.
We suspend them for several days in a chimney, and the smoke gives them the respectable air of antiquity. Believe you me, it's a secret which has been worth its weight in gold to us.
RICHMOND.
It was the true philosopher's stone for your Order?
PRIOR.
You can take my word for it! ... Now, guard them carefully, because — come what may — the old nobility will always have privileges.
RICHMOND.
I shall not fail to make use of them. [He puts said titles in his coat pocket.]
PRIOR.
Given that matters are proceeding apace, I do hope that our agreements will hold, and that we will have no difficulties?
RICHMOND.
[Nodding in agreement.] None at all, Prior.
PRIOR.
So, ... it is I who will be the master of the house? [The chevalier nods in agreement.] Who will be in charge of the expenditure? [Ibid.] Who will preside at table? [Ibid.] Who will hold the keys of the cellar? [Ibid.] Who will order the servants? [Ibid.] And, finally, it is I who will occupy the small apartment next to my niece?
RICHMOND.
Yes, Prior.
PRIOR.
Splendid! I'll be off to put the finishing touches to our preparations, so as to hasten the moment of your happiness. [He exits via the cloister door.]
SCENE 6. Chevalier de Richmond, alone.
RICHMOND.
[Laughing while crossing the stage.] Hah! Hah! Hah! There goes the prior. He must have it all: the cellar, the table, and the pretty niece. Hah! Hah! Hah! ... Well, an old soldier who has fought many a campaign cannot be so easily duped; once I have my pullet, it will not be long before I show him the door. She is a small treat whom I will look after carefully; and, to ensure that, absolutely no one will be allowed near her. ... Ah! Prior, I shall be as shrewd as you. You may well turn up your nose, but you will not see your niece: not even at the windows. You will not be the first monk whom I have caught out; I have seen to a good many others in the towns where I was garrisoned. ... Indeed, all things considered, I shall have little to complain about in my old age, what with having a pretty 17-year-old wife to warm myself and to scold as I please; not forgetting a dowry of 20,000 crowns from the abbey's coffers, and the titles of nobility from a monks' workshop! ... My former comrades-in-arms would like to know priors at this price — and they could hardly accuse me of having made a marriage against honor, since I'm not like those knights who marry old singers or dancers to legitimize their bastards, and do so for a small pension that barely keeps them in tobacco: and yet allows them to savor their wives no more than once a year at most. ... Ah! Such folly! [He exits via the parlor door while laughing. ... Curtain falls.]
ACT 2.
[Costumes: Mlle Bénigne, Lt. Valère, Prior, Mlle Lucile, Mme Javotte & Chevalier de Richmond, as for Act 1; Bursar, conventual dress over a fair degree of padding; Dom Gourmet, conventual dress over a heavy degree of padding; Dom Sucré, conventual dress; Mme Mathurine, sober-colored long-sleeved dress, bonnet.]
Curtain rises, to reveal the same room, and the same scenery, as Act 1.
SCENE 1. Mlle Bénigne, alone.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
Well, Mlle Lucile is going to get married; and she is very fortunate to have two husbands who present themselves: one young, the other old. If her uncle were to compel her to decide upon the chevalier, that would be agreeable to me, not least because the lieutenant is too lovable to marry such a featherbrain; ... and, should he wish, he and I could well come to some suitable arrangement. I'm certainly tired of living single; once the monks have left, I'll not see them anymore. At least I would have somebody to keep me company; and, given that they say that opposites attract, I might well hope to marry an officer. ... Ah! The pleasure of strolling with a young breveted cavalier on my arm. I must speak to the prior about it; he owes me gratitude for having raised his niece, and I don't doubt that he would lend a helping hand, since we have always gotten along rather well together. [Sound of footsteps off-stage.] I hear him coming; let's try. [She glances in the direction of the parlor door.] But no: it's Lieutenant Valère. My word, how handsome he is!
SCENE 2. Mlle Bénigne, Lt. Valère: the latter enters via the parlor door.
VALÈRE.
Ah! My dear lady, I'm charmed to meet you here.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
I came to speak to the reverend prior about you.
VALÈRE.
And I came to ask him to grant me the hand of his niece, and to give you the sum which is intended for her dowry, as a measure of recompense for the care that you have taken.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
You are very kind, but I don't know whether that will serve you well.
VALÈRE.
Why ever not? The reverend prior would make us both happy at one and the same time. ...
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
Lieutenant Valère, I must speak to you as an impartial maid of honor: ... Lucile is not the wife who is suitable for you.
VALÈRE.
For what reason?
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
She is very vain.
VALÈRE.
She is of her age.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
She is overly vivacious.
VALÈRE.
She is only more lovable for that.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
She does nothing but laugh, sing and dance.
VALÈRE.
She will only please more for that.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
She has her head full of romances.
VALÈRE.
She will only love with more ardor for that.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
Her uncle, however, forbade her to read those.
VALÈRE.
He was wrong.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
Why so?
VALÈRE.
He was behaving contrary to his own antecedents.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
What do you mean by that?
VALÈRE.
What?! ... You don't know, Mademoiselle, that monks were the first novelists? ... In the barbaric times of yore, they lived in rich abbeys; and, whenever they temporarily left these fortresses in the middle of the countryside, accompanied by their serfs, they helped themselves to everything they came across, abducting cattle and women alike. Now, whenever the peasants advanced to claim what rightfully belonged to them, and set about besieging these abbeys, the monks showed them their gold and silver reliquaries on the parapets: ... and these weak-minded people humbly prostrated themselves, laid down their arms, and dared advance no further. From there is the origin of those enchanted castles, fairy tales, and ultimately those romances that the prior forbade his niece to read.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
[Laughing.] That's news to me; I do believe that it's mere invention on your part, simply to excuse Mlle Lucile.
VALÈRE.
No; it's history in all its true colors. ... Anyway, what need would I have to excuse Lucile, when she's not guilty, nor ever would be in my eyes?
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
It's so true what they say: ... 'That love is blind.'
VALÈRE.
One must be indulgent.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
Nevertheless, a sturdy lass might suit a young man better?
VALÈRE.
Yes; she might have merit.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
A lass of my type, for example?
VALÈRE.
Undoubtedly so, Mademoiselle; what you say does put me to the test.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
I've never known how to employ indirect means.
VALÈRE.
Yet, whatever you might say to me, Mademoiselle, you will always find me devoted to Lucile, and you will only ever be a good witness to the feelings of affection that I have for her: and that nothing will ever change.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
Mlle Lucile is fortunate, but one could make a better case than she of your feelings.
VALÈRE.
Be that as it may, I shall never consider her ungrateful.
SCENE 3. The Same, Prior: the latter enters via the cloister door.
PRIOR.
Ah! Mlle Bénigne, you're in good company; I do congratulate you.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
It's the first time that I've had have the honor of being alone with Lieutenant Valère.
VALÈRE.
And I've been complimenting the good lady about the lovable pupil whom she has formed, and who has the good fortune to have you as her dear uncle.
PRIOR.
It's true that my niece is not lacking in good graces. But, tell me, how do you know her?
VALÈRE.
From the first time that I noticed her coming here, my eyes have been in agreement with my heart. I shared my feelings with Mlle Bénigne; and she led me to hope that you might be well disposed to my suit.
PRIOR.
The good lady is a little forward!
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
I informed the lieutenant that Mlle Lucile's hand was promised: but that if he was determined to get married, you might well agree that I ... ... I ...
PRIOR.
Ah! I understand! You wish to marry Lieutenant Valère. Gladly! It will be a double celebration for me, since I look upon you as a second niece.
VALÈRE.
Excuse me, Mademoiselle...
PRIOR.
[Interrupting.] Ah, yes! Mlle Bénigne has always been too modest to support a declaration in form.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
Lieutenant Valère is too decent to express himself more openly.
VALÈRE.
[Looking exasperated.] Please allow me to explain.
PRIOR.
No, no; there is no need for an explanation. I am more than happy to be able to show you my gratitude for the services that you have rendered us.
VALÈRE.
[Looking even more exasperated.] I don't believe this!
PRIOR.
Forgive me. I know that, with incredible courage, you repelled the brigands who wanted to attack our house; and that was an act of heroism which, in my eyes, was more invaluable and more useful to the motherland than the Storming of the Bastille.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
Lieutenant Valère's courage speaks volumes about his character.
PRIOR.
[To Bénigne.] Indeed it does; the lieutenant is most worthy of you. Let's go and inform my niece, and then we will all meet together at supper to finalize matters.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
See you this evening, my dear lieutenant.
PRIOR.
You'll be happy! [He and Mlle Bénigne exit via the cloister door; Valère, looking stupified, watches them leave.]
SCENE 4. Lt. Valère, alone.
VALÈRE.
[Slowly.] That was a fine trick! ... Mercy me! ... Has one ever seen the like? That spinster Bénigne will marry me, despite myself! ... And she'll succeed, if I'm not careful. ... What it is to have to deal with a sanctimonious old trout and a monk! ... When will our society be delivered from such dangerous individuals? [He observes Lucile entering via the parlor door, and rushes towards her.]
SCENE 5. Lt. Valère, Mlle Lucile.
VALÈRE.
[Taking her gently by the hand.] My dear Lucile.
Mlle LUCILE.
[Repulsing him.] Leave me be!
VALÈRE.
[Looking surprised.] What?!
Mlle LUCILE.
You're an ingrate!
VALÈRE.
Am I hearing right?!
Mlle LUCILE.
I don't wish to see you anymore.
VALÈRE.
Eh?! What have I done?
Mlle LUCILE.
You claim to love me: yet you're going to marry another!
VALÈRE.
As Heaven is my witness, I love only my dear Lucile.
Mlle LUCILE.
I know everything; you can no longer impose on me.
VALÈRE.
This is an enigma for me.
Mlle LUCILE.
You came yourself to ask my uncle for Mlle Bénigne's hand in marriage; he granted it to you, and so you abandon me to the old chevalier. I cannot doubt it, since I was hidden behind the folding screen in the visiting room, and I heard the whole conversation which they held on returning. Then I slipped out, without them seeing me, and I hastened to give you all the reproaches that you deserve.
VALÈRE.
Be assured, my dear Lucile, that I had nothing whatsoever to do with their designs; and that I would prefer to die than to abandon you.
Mlle LUCILE.
[Sharply.] You still maintain your perfidy, even though you are to be married no later than this evening!
SCENE 6. The Same, Mme Javotte: the latter, quite breathless, enters via the parlor door, places a bulky package on the bench, then rushes towards Lucile and Valère.
Mme JAVOTTE.
How is it that I always find you arguing with each other?! What, then, will happen when you've been married six months? My word, I do believe the heads of today's young are turned!
VALÈRE.
Mme Javotte, you have arrived just at the right moment to make my peace with the charming Lucile.
Mlle LUCILE.
No! I want nothing more to do with you!
Mme JAVOTTE.
[To Lucile.] My dear child, there must be no rancor and no foolishness on your part if you want me to involve myself in your affairs! [To Valère.] Now, young man, who has turned this beautiful lass against you?
VALÈRE.
I will give you a full and honest account of what has just happened: then you will see whether Lucile has reason to be annoyed. ... I came here to approach the reverend prior with a view to asking for Lucile's hand in marriage. I met Mlle Bénigne, to whom I communicated my intention, but she sought to divert me from it; initially by speaking great ill of Lucile; then by insinuating that she loved me, and that I should marry her: which I thought was a jest on her part. ... The reverend prior arrived at this juncture, and she gave him to understand that I had come here to ask for her hand in marriage. He believed her, and gave his agreement there and then; and, without giving me the time to explain myself, not even to say one word, they left like a flash of lightning, while saying to me: 'This evening you will be happy.' ... And that was the moment when Lucile heard them speak together!
Mme JAVOTTE.
Ah! That was a very fine ruse by that sanctimonious biddy! We good folk, who merely carry out our duty, would we ever imagine such a thing? I think that the Devil must tempt such people every few minutes or so. ... My word, if I caught hold of her, I'd twist her large bonnet into a knot! ... But we mustn't say anything yet. No; we must follow matters through to the end. As they say: 'He who laughs last, laughs longest.' [To Valère.] Now, my fine young man, be sure to come to supper, and pretend that you will accept the hand of that man-eater. [To Lucile.] And you, my sweet lass, appear to pay no attention. Whatever you hear or see, have no fear because I guarantee success. You'll see that I'm a good woman. [Sound of footsteps off-stage.] Now: leave quickly, since I hear the prior coming. [Lucile and Valère exit via the parlor door.]
SCENE 7. Mme Javotte, Prior, Bursar: the latter two enter via the cloister door.
Mme JAVOTTE.
[Breezily.] Ah! My plump prior, you see that I'm as good as my word; [She points to the bulky package.] I guarantee that you'll be satisfied.
PRIOR.
That's splendid; you are a decent sort. Would you do us the kindness of casting an eye over the kitchen?
Mme JAVOTTE.
With pleasure, Prior. [She exits via the cloister door.]
SCENE 8. Prior (Dom Renard), Bursar (Dom Rôlet).
PRIOR.
Well, our destruction has finally been decided; I had forseen such for a long time, and warned you about it. Doubtless, Dom Rôlet, you took care to put something aside, to provide each of us with a small purse? Furthermore, you know that I am marrying off my niece, and that a dowry should be given to her?
BURSAR.
I know that your intentions are good: but what means have there been to accumulate funds, given that everything has been so expensive for several years now?
PRIOR.
Is that to say we should expect to receive next to nothing?
BURSAR.
Just so; indeed, I have barely enough to pay each person's traveling expenses when we leave.
PRIOR.
Hmph! Hitherto, I have tolerated you merely because — from time to time — I needed a few gold crowns, which you didn't dare to refuse me as your prior. But, as from today, since I've no hope of anything more, I'm most comfortable telling you a home truth or two.
BURSAR.
Such as?
PRIOR.
[Testily.] I saw everything: but said not a word.
BURSAR.
[Looking bemused.] About what?
PRIOR.
Well, setting aside your little suppers in town, you took great care to eat well here — under the pretext of handling the affairs of the house — while you let us starve. But, Ssh! Charity begins...
BURSAR.
[Interrupting.] Wherever it should be! Surely I had every right to take something on account, given that our pleasures were removed from us so inhumanely? ... Nevertheless, to prove to you that I didn't let you starve, I call upon Dom Gourmet.
PRIOR.
[Smiling disdainfully.] A fine witness he is; a monk who only knows how to ingest and digest!
SCENE 9. The Same, Dom Gourmet: the latter enters via the cloister door.
DOM GOURMET.
Well, well! ... Why waste time arguing, when we should be thinking about supper? You can be heard from one end of the cloister to the other; and in tones more appropriate to a scullery boy who hasn't got his mind on what he's doing.
BURSAR.
Dom Gourmet, you arrive in time to do me justice against a base accusation by Dom Renard.
DOM GOURMET.
And what might that be, Reverend Bursar?
BURSAR.
The reverend prior claims that I let you starve.
DOM GOURMET.
That's a broad subject, and one that could have far-reaching consequences. So, before broaching it, give orders to the effect that the two magnificent turkeys — which the farmer from the Priory of Our Lady of Pleasures has just brought us — are to be placed on the spit.
BURSAR.
I promise you that. Now, refute the reverend prior.
DOM GOURMET.
Those turkeys will have tired on the way: so they must be given close attention.
BURSAR.
[Sounding slightly exasperated.] I won't forget them.
DOM GOURMET.
That they are cooked properly, and that none of their juices are wasted?
BURSAR.
[Sounding more exasperated.] You'll be satisified!
DOM GOURMET.
Good! ... Now, let me see? The reverend prior says that you let us starve. Well, it is true that, for some time now, I have been obliged to take in my habits.
BURSAR.
I rather suspected that you would be of the same opinion as Dom Renard, ... simply because he has a meal to give!
DOM GOURMET.
Perhaps so. [He shrugs his shoulders.] But I don't like arguments; provided I can eat and drink, everything else is neither here nor there.
BURSAR.
And that, there, is how one is rewarded for always having done one's best!
SCENE 10. The Same, Dom Sucré: the latter enters via the cloister door, holding his breviary under his arm.
DOM SUCRÉ.
[To Dom Renard in an unctuous tone.] For one month now, Reverend Prior, I have been asking you for a crown for my private needs: why don't you give it to me? I would like you to explain in front of the reverend bursar.
PRIOR.
[Impatiently.] Dom Sucré, there's nothing to explain! I gave it to you the same day that you asked me for it.
DOM SUCRÉ.
That's inconceivable.
PRIOR.
Didn't you ask me for it on St. Vincent's Day, ... feast day of the patron saint of wine growers?
DOM SUCRÉ.
[After a distinct pause.] Ah, yes; that was the very day.
PRIOR.
Well then! As soon as you left me, I went up to your room: but you were not you there, so I put the gold crown in your breviary at the Office of the Day. Now, if you had said your breviary that day — or on any of the following days — you must have found the gold crown.
DOM SUCRÉ.
[Looking astonished; then, as an aside.] Mercy me! ... Could that be so?
PRIOR.
[Grabbing the breviary from under Dom Sucré's arm, he removes and then shows the gold crown secreted there.] You see! [He looks reflective.] Mmm, ... I'm convinced now that you never say your breviary. So I'm perfectly justified in stating that you are a petty hypocrite who has always sought to impress us as a devout individual: but one who has never duped me!
DOM SUCRÉ.
[In a piqued tone.] At least I don't have a niece to marry off at the monastery's expense!
PRIOR.
You choose to add insolence to your wrongdoings?!
BURSAR.
You're attacking me too, Dom Sucré: so take care in what you say!
DOM SUCRÉ.
I've nothing to fear; I can speak freely these days. ... You matadors of the monastery have always been awash with life's little pleasures, while we poor simple monks have barely had the necessities; and if we dared so much as raise our voices a little, you locked us up without any form of due process. It's just as well that we are to be suppressed, because we would be always the victims of your monastic despotism.
DOM GOURMET.
Bah! He's merely clouding the issue; and if this nonsense continues, we'll be condemned to eat in the refectory this evening.
DOM SUCRÉ.
[To Gourmet.] A bottle of wine and an extra dish have always sufficed to keep your mouth shut!
DOM GOURMET.
You're lying there, Dom Sucré: they do quite the contrary!
DOM SUCRÉ.
[Giving Gourmet a slap in the face with the sleeve of his habit.] That's what a denial is worth! [Gourmet returns Sucré's slap. Then the prior and the bursar, in attempting to separate this pair, strike each other; whereupon all four monks make several turns around the stage, giving each other blows with the sleeves of their habits. The Chevalier de Richmond and Mme Mathurine enter precipitously via the parlor door. The chevalier is ruffled so harshly that he is knocked over; leaving his wig, hat, and crutch on one side, and his titles of nobility on t'other. Mme Mathurine is knocked sideways by a blow from the sleeve of one of the monk's habits. The monks exit via the cloister door, trading blows with their sleeves as before.]
SCENE 11. Chevalier de Richmond, Mme Mathurine.
RICHMOND.
[Still on the floor.] Ah! If Mlle Lucile were to see me in this state, how sorry she would feel for me. I lost one leg during the capture of Port-Mahon: must I lose the other to a battery of monks? And who would give me a pension for that?
Mme MATHURINE.
[Having put her bonnet on again, she helps the chevalier to get up, places his wig on his head, and hands him his crutch.] Come on now! No harm done; you have the air of a young buck.
RICHMOND.
[Looking woebegone.] But, my dear Mme Mathurine, what will become of Mlle Lucile's dowry if the prior is on bad terms with the bursar, ... and the monks are fighting one another?
Mme MATHURINE.
Bah! It's nothing. They will patch things up over a glass of wine. I've seen many a quarrel here; indeed, everytime I've been here, I've witnessed some new fracas or other. ... I should leave them well alone, since apart from the great casks of wine that I must give the monks at lease-renewal, they turn everything upside down when they visit our farm. [She accidently treads on the titles of nobility.] What's this on the floor? [She gathers the titles and looks closely.] Ah! It's parchment; this will be good to wrap my husband's tobacco.
RICHMOND.
Are you jesting, Madame? Those are my titles of nobility that fell from my pocket.
Mme MATHURINE.
What purpose do they serve?
RICHMOND.
They are of such great consequence, Madame, that if one were to place on a balance Mlle Lucile, with her dowry of 20,000 crowns, on one side, and me with these parchments, on the other, I don't know which would be the heavier of the two.
Mme MATHURINE.
[Lifting up the parchments.] But ... these don't weigh an ounce. Mmm? ... Come on, my dear unfortunate companion, give me your arm, and let's see what has become of our brave champions. [The pair exit via the cloister door. ... Curtain falls.]
ACT 3.
[Costumes: Mlle Lucile, Mlle Bénigne, Mme Javotte, Mme Mathurine & Lt. Valère, as for Acts 1 and 2; Chevalier de Richmond, Prior, Bursar, Dom Gourmet & Dom Sucré, also as for Acts 1 and 2 — except double-thickness long johns as undergarments, to preserve their modesty in Scene 2; Capt. Rodomont, grenadier officer's uniform; Grenadiers, soldier's uniform; M. Notaire, well-kempt grey frock coat, breeches and waistcoat, white shirt, hat, portfolio of writing materials.]
Curtain rises, to reveal the same room; mid-stage, slightly left-center, a horseshoe-shaped table and nine chairs; stage left, a bench on which is the bulky package left by Mme Javotte during Act 2.
SCENE 1. Seated eating and drinking around the table are, clockwise: Richmond, downstage right, Mlle Lucile, Dom Sucré, Bursar, Prior, Dom Gourmet, Mme Mathurine, Mlle Bénigne, Lt. Valère, downstage left.
DOM GOURMET.
Long live pleasure! My word, yes! Let's drink a toast to the reverend prior's health. [He raises his glass.]
ALL, except the prior.
[While clinking glasses.] Reverend Prior!!
DOM GOURMET.
[To Mme Mathurine.] This is what happens when harmony reigns.
Mme MATHURINE.
Just so! But for that to be always so here, you monks would need to be eating constantly.
DOM GOURMET.
You're right, Madame. Personally speaking, I never seek a quarrel with anyone: ... unless they make me fast!
Mlle LUCILE.
Dom Gourmet, I do admire how you managed to eat two turkey thighs without saying a word.
DOM GOURMET.
Well, Mademoiselle, if I had the good fortune to be in the chevalier's place, I would give my appetite a respite.
PRIOR.
Dom Gourmet certainly knows how to make the most of every moment at the table.
BURSAR.
What's the matter, Mlle Bénigne? You're not eating?
DOM GOURMET.
Mademoiselle is contemplating her future.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
Who do you mean by that, Dom Gourmet?
VALÈRE.
[Interjecting.] Mademoiselle might care to consult her conscience, before signing her contract of marriage?
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
I have done so thoroughly, Lieutenant Valère.
PRIOR.
The chevalier is quiet?
RICHMOND.
When one is so well endowed, one has nothing more to ask.
VALÈRE.
The chevalier is a gentleman.
Mlle LUCILE.
The chevalier is worth many another.
PRIOR.
You're right, my dear niece.
SCENE 2. The Same, Mme Javotte: the latter, entering in a sprightly manner via the parlor door, holds bouquets of flowers.
Mme JAVOTTE.
Long live folks in good humor!
ALL, except Mme J.
Mme Javotte!
Mme JAVOTTE.
[Approaching Valère.] Now, my fine young man, let me treat you to some flowers. [Valère feigns to repulse her.] Well, well! So you're giving yourself airs because you're wearing an officer's uniform? Bah! I've seen it on many another!
VALÈRE.
Give them to Mlle Lucile first!
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
[To Valère.] And me, Monsieur?
Mme JAVOTTE.
What?! You're already acting jealous? Your husband will have to cure you of that wicked fault! ... Here you are: red ones. [She gives Bénigne a bouquet.] And these white ones for Mlle Lucile. [She places herself beside Lucile.] Embrace me, my beautiful child; you're as pretty as a picture! ... Isn't she lovely, Chevalier?
RICHMOND.
Quite priceless to conserve.
Mme JAVOTTE.
My plump prior will look after her.
DOM GOURMET.
You're not having a drink with me, Mme Javotte?
Mme JAVOTTE.
Ah! Forgive me; you know I always do.
DOM GOURMET.
Splendid! [He pours her some wine.]
Mme JAVOTTE.
Here's to everyone! [She raises her glass.]
ALL, except Mme J.
[While clinking glasses.] Mme Javotte!!
PRIOR.
Mme Javotte, come and sit yourself down next to Dom Sucré, and take part in our small celebration.
Mme JAVOTTE.
With pleasure, my plump prior. [She looks for a chair, but finds none.] There's no chair, ... but no matter. [She carefully moves the bulky package on the bench, then sits down.] There we are: just as good as King Dagobert's throne!
DOM GOURMET.
Mme Javotte, would you care for a piece of this pie?
Mme JAVOTTE.
Just a little, please; since I fear that if I become too fat they'll send me along with you to the patriotic dry-cleaners.
DOM GOURMET.
The devil take the patriotic dry-cleaners! ... Besides, it won't be necessary to do that anymore; we've been squeezed enough already.
Mme JAVOTTE.
That's certainly true for Dom Sucré; fat won't prevent him from running! But whatever he does, he'll no longer get it from the Priory.
BURSAR.
That, there, is indeed the source of his sorrow. And yet he will always have enough; he prefers sugared bon-bons.
DOM SUCRÉ.
True; and I hope that the good chevalier will offer me some of those before the year is out?
RICHMOND.
Perhaps; stranger things have happened.
Mme JAVOTTE.
Ah! Good! Dom Sucré has joined in too; he has made Mlle Lucile laugh. As for me, I hold on to the thought of being a godparent along with my plump prior.
DOM GOURMET.
And me, Mme Javotte, who is your former lover?
Mme JAVOTTE.
Pffh! You're no longer good for anything!
DOM GOURMET.
[Rising and going towards Mme Javotte, aside the package.] That being a fair compliment, I want to express my thanks by kissing you. [As she resists, he takes her by the collar, and, in kissing her, they and the packgage fall over. She grabs hold of the cover of the package, which results in the clothes, hats, swords, and belts of the National Guard scattering hither and thither.]
PRIOR.
What's this, then: a secondhand clothes' shop?
BURSAR.
It's probably a package belonging to the district militia which has been left here.
Mme JAVOTTE.
[As she is picking herself up, she takes a uniform, and puts it on Gourmet's back.] Now that's what's called a martial appearance! Kiss me now. ... No! It's not enough; you must leave the priesthood to be at one with the people. [Music, Le Bonnet de la Liberté, played quietly off-stage, while she removes his habit, dresses him in the national uniform, belt, sword, and red hat, then places a rifle in his hands. Everybody bursts out laughing. She then goes to the reverend prior, who allows himself to be similarly bedecked without demur.]
Mlle LUCILE.
I want the chevalier to wear that uniform too; I'll give him a helping hand.
RICHMOND.
Though there be none that is worth the one I wear, there is nothing I wouldn't do to please you, Mlle Lucile.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
I'll dress Dom Sucré.
Mme MATHURINE.
And I'll see to Dom Rôlet. [Music, Le Bonnet de la Liberté, played quietly off-stage, whilst these others are dressed and armed.]
Mme JAVOTTE.
[Taking a belt and a sword, then declaiming.] It is I who am the captain; M. Valère is my lieutenant.
VALÈRE.
Surely that honor belongs to the chevalier; he being the more senior soldier?
DOM GOURMET.
Well, while the ranks are being sorted out, I'll mount guard near the table: so that nothing is taken!
Mme JAVOTTE.
[Advancing to the middle of the stage with sword in hand.] Fall in! ... Attention to your captain! ... Present arms! ... Keep still! [At this juncture, there are several hard knocks on the parlor door together with the sound of rifle shots outside. The door is flung open. Two grenadiers, led by their captain, arrive on stage. The women cry out; the monks run hither and thither, not knowing where to hide — save Gourmet, who takes refuge under the table.]
SCENE 3. The Same, Capt. Rodomont, Grenadiers.
RODOMONT.
Stop everyone! [To Richmond.] Put away your sword! [The trembling chevalier does so.] My word, what a splendid haul of aristocrats! If this continues, we'll soon arrest the entire clergy. [He looks at each monk in turn.] Ah! Here's the prior! Here's the bursar! [Then he points to the ascetic Sucré.] And that one is surely an illicit monk. ... No matter! [These three monks are trembling, whereas the women are crying.]
GRENADIER 1.
[Discovering Gourmet under the table.] Here's yet another one, Captain. [He drags him from underneath the table.] But he's much too fat to be strung up from a lampost; he'd break it!
DOM GOURMET.
Ah! I'm done for! I'm done for! Since I must die, bring me the rest of the pie.
RODOMONT.
Keep a beady eye on that one, for he'll not lose his head!
Mme JAVOTTE.
[With feeling.] Goodness me! How yesterday's captain and his pampered toy soldiers want to throw their weight about! See how the prior is all atremble, and the bursar looks as defeated as if the monastery funds had been stolen. [To Rodomont.] So, Captain Rodomont, speak! You've a fine way of treating everyone as an aristocrat: but we know full well that those who wear your uniform aren't always the best patriots.
RODOMONT.
Take care, Mme Javotte, we'll not spare you!
Mme JAVOTTE.
Bah! I'm not afraid; I've more courage than you. ... Listen, just because these poor men wanted to change clothes, so as to prove that they were sound patriotic monks, must they be dragged immediately to the nearest lampost in the manner of Foullon?
RODOMONT.
[To Valère.] Lieutenant Valère, I didn't expect to find you involved in such an affair?
VALÈRE.
My sentiments are well known; I've given ample proof of them.
RODOMONT.
[To the grenadiers.] Take them away!
PRIOR.
[Tremulously.] No! No! Mme Javotte, stand up for us: speak about the marriages.
Mme JAVOTTE.
[To the captain.] Stop a moment, while I explain.
RODOMONT.
What's to explain?
Mme JAVOTTE.
Eh?! Must I spell it out for you? This fancy dress is merely a harmless entertainment on the occasion of two marriages.
RODOMONT.
Who is getting married here?
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
I am, Captain, to the lieutenant; and Mlle Lucile to the chevalier.
RODOMONT.
[After looking hard at them in turn.] That's impossible! It's a trick. [To the grenadiers.] Take them...
PRIOR.
[Interjecting vehemently.] Mme Javotte, for pity's sake, make yourself clear.
Mme JAVOTTE.
[To the prior.] They'll never believe anything, ... unless ... ...?
PRIOR.
Do as you see fit: so long as you get us out of this truly dreadful predicament.
Mme JAVOTTE.
A few words, Captain?
RODOMONT.
Which are?
Mme JAVOTTE.
Forgive me, Captain, but Mademoiselle does not know herself about the marriage yet. [She points to Lucile and Valère.] It's this pretty lass who is marrying the handsome young man; [Then she points to Mlle Bénigne and the chevalier.] and it's that large bonnet who is marrying the pegleg.
RODOMONT.
Ah! That seems much more plausible. ... But where are the contracts?
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
They're not made yet!
RICHMOND.
[Approaching Mlle Bénigne, and all atremble.] Let's get married, Mademoiselle: otherwise we'll be strung up.
Mlle BÉNIGNE.
I have to accept, since we're forced to do so.
Mme JAVOTTE.
[To Lucile.] And you, Mlle Lucile, do you accept Lieutenant Valère?
Mlle LUCILE.
[Tearfully.] Yes; there's nothing I wouldn't do to save the life of my dear uncle.
Mme JAVOTTE.
Splendid! ... Captain, I'll go straightaway and fetch the notary. [She exits via the parlor door.]
RODOMONT.
Grenadiers: Stand to!
VALÈRE.
Captain, I think it might be appropriate to release everyone, so that our consent to the marriage contracts is truly free?
RODOMONT.
Fair enough. [Gourmet rushes back to the table.]
SCENE 4. The Same, M. Notaire: the latter enters via the parlor door, together with the returning Mme Javotte.
NOTAIRE.
[To the prior.] Bravo, Prior, that costume suits you; one might no longer suspect you of being a bad patriot! ... Now, I gather it's a question of making two marriage contracts. Where are the contracting parties?
PRIOR.
[Pointing to each couple and stammering.] Er, ... Here they are. [After having given them a cursory glance, the notary starts to write.]
Mme JAVOTTE.
But, Monsieur Notaire, you don't know what must be put in the contracts.
NOTAIRE.
[Continuing to write.] From their appearances, one knows what must be the content of each contract.
Mme JAVOTTE.
[Looking impressed.] Very knowing!
NOTAIRE.
[After having the contracts signed by the respective parties, the four monks, Mme Javotte, and Capt. Rodomont, he presents one contract to Valère.] Here we are, Lieutenant: that should be the blessing of your life. [He then presents t'other contract to the chevalier whilst pointing to Mlle Bénigne.] There is she who will be the prop of your old age.
RICHMOND.
[To the notary, as he is leaving.] Monsieur Notaire, there is no mention of a dowry?
NOTAIRE.
Eh?! Virginity, in a fifty-year-old spinster, is a very rich dowry indeed! [He exits via the parlor door.]
Mme JAVOTTE.
[To Richmond.] What do prefer, Chevalier? Will you help Mlle Bénigne to say her paternosters — given that we live in an age of great change, whether one likes it or not? [To Valère.] And you, Lieutenant Valère, will you work with Lucile to produce strapping grand-nephews for the prior?
PRIOR.
[Slowly.] Ah! ... Yes, yes; I see our reign has well and truly ended. Today has shown that all too clearly; we have trapped countless numbers, so it is indeed just that we too are trapped in our turn.
RODOMONT.
That's truly: ... A call to order!
Mme JAVOTTE.
Take heart, Prior, something will turn up; you'll not die of starvation. The nation is charitable; she'll take care of her children, whatever their persuasion. ... But, for the present, let's simply enjoy ourselves! [To Rodomont, taking him by the hand.] Captain: to the two of us! [The grenadiers place themselves in close order under arms. Rodomont & Mme Javotte, both with a sword in hand, fence while dancing a minuet to the music Le Bonnet de la Liberté. After them, Valère & Lucile and Richmond & Mlle Bénigne dance together a minuet to the music La Guillotine and Le Goût du siècle, respectively. ... Curtain falls.] ... {Adapters' notes: In a full production, following completion of these minuets, four more grenadiers arrive, each dressed in a monk's habit, wearing a red cap, with a sword in hand, and holding under his arm a fishwife who carries a bouquet; then, these four grenadiers, the four monks (swords in hand), the four fishwives, and the four other women — namely Mme Javotte, Mlle Lucile, Mlle Bénigne, and Mme Mathurine — execute a burlesque ballet, with a variety of figures and the rattling of swords, to the music La Gigue anglaise.}
........................................................................................
Shortly after the final curtain, accompanied by perfunctory applause from Dr. S. and Mrs. B., all the Upper 6th-Remove appear on stage in front of the curtain ...
FLASHMAN.
Well, what do you think, Miss? ... Sir? (Dr. S., who looks decidedly wan, gestures politely to Mrs. B.)
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Mmm,... I'm slightly at a loss, since Dr. Stuart had given me to understand that, on the one hand, your production was to be a 'quasi-palimpsest', rather than a straightforward play, and on the other, it would involve a speaking part for each member of the class?
FLASHMAN.
Ah! Yes, Miss; let me explain. ... Spats and I viewed this play as a sort of core, to which we planned to add scenes involving either nuns or additional fishwives, ... as a result of improvisations with the remaining girls. ...
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Nothing more specific, Rudolph?
FLASHMAN.
Not really, Miss, ... except we've given some consideration to appreciably expanding the rôle of the hypocritical Dom Sucré, by making him the confessor of a neighbouring female convent. (He glances at Pattullo, who nods in agreement.)
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Mmm? (She looks pensive.) ... ... ...
PATTULLO.
With respect, Miss, neither Dr. Stuart nor you have exactly disguised your decidedly underwhelming appreciation of our efforts: so, both barrels, please, before the good doctor has the opportunity of saying "Perish the thought." (He smiles warmly, and everybody laughs save Dr. S. — who has closed his eyes.) ...
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
So be it! ... First, I do think it was very well acted; your choice of a fast pace was entirely appropriate for what is essentially a farce. ... That said, and by contrast, this play is almost certainly unsuitable for your potential end-of-term audience; the vast majority of whom might reasonably be expected to have a quite limited knowledge of the French Revolution and even less or none of the essential chronology of the anti-clerical and anti-conventual legislation passed during 1789 and 1790. ... Wouldn't you agree, Ralph?
PATTULLO.
Er, ... Yes, Miss; at least I think so. ... That's to say, if I understand you correctly, we need to overcome the play's fundamental weakness — lack of context? (Mrs. B. nods in agreement.) — by, say, having a prologue and an epilogue in which the evolving political changes are presented?
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Yes. ... In my view, one needs a «Prologue», whose main purpose should be to allow a present-day audience to possess a fair measure of the common knowledge, misconceptions, prejudices, and so forth, of a typical contemporary audience of 1790 in Paris; and, by having done so, one would have made a reasonably faithful attempt to respect the original dramatist's intentions. ... Then, following the play itself, one needs an «Epilogue», whose main purpose should be to enlighten a present-day audience as to the misinformation and disinformation that permeates said play and its newly-fashioned prologue. (The entire class look more than a shade bemused.) ...
PATTULLO.
Er, ... Excuse me, Miss, but would you be so kind as to be a little more expansive?
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Certainly. ... First, let's consider a plausible prologue. ... This could be set in one of the innumerable political clubs in Paris at this period, wherein a group of members was either commissioning or censoring this particular play. ... Their deliberations could be reasonably expected to include references not only to near-contemporary political events — including, and in particular, the anti-clerical and anti-conventual legislation — but also specifics relevant to your play, such as its setting in a Benedictine monastery a month after St. Vincent's Day, which is the 22nd January, the audacious capture of Port-Mahon, on the Isle of Minorca in May 1756, the march to Versailles by the so-called Poissardes on the 5th October 1789, and so forth. ... Now, such a group of members could also be expected to hold similar views to those of the author: and, in consequence, this would allow you — should you so wish — not only to ascribe less-than-wholesome motives to them, but also to introduce further misinformation ad libitum. (To Pattullo.) With me so far, Ralph?
PATTULLO.
Yes, Miss; most definitely.
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Now, before turning our attention to an epilogue, I have one or two comments to make about your script. ... Overall, I found it creditable. That said, I found the first scene of act three grating to the ear and certainly lacking in momentum; and that's either because you have attempted to translate the text too literally or because your anonymous author unwittingly mishandled the 'table talk' — a rather difficult dramatic skill, in my opinion. ... Either way, may I suggest that we get together to sort out those infelicities? (She smiles encouragingly at Flashman and Pattullo.)
FLASHMAN & PATTULLO.
Yes, Miss. (In unison.)
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
And, you also missed a trick by not using the exact or near English equivalents of the characters' names; thus, Mme Chatterbox — Mme Javotte, Dom Fox — Dom Renard, Captain Swagger — Captain Rodomont, and so on. (Both Flashman and Pattullo nod.) I must also say that I was rather puzzled by the absence of any monastic sounds; bells or... (Flashman interjects, to Pattullo.)
FLASHMAN.
Drat!!
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
I beg your pardon?!
FLASHMAN.
Oh! Very sorry, Miss. It's just that Spats and I excised a short scene from act three — involving an exchange between the prior and the sacristan, regarding whether the bell should be sounded for Compline — because we thought that it disrupted the flow. ...
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Mmm? (She smiles mischievously.) Your judgement may well be correct: ... but, even so, that surely didn't necessarily preclude inserting either discreet sound effects off-stage or an appropriate line or two of dialogue?
FLASHMAN.
No, Miss; I agree.
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Good! ... Now, a plausible epilogue. ... This could be set in the home of a middle-class provincial who attended a performance of the play during a business trip to Paris: and who either, shortly after, relates an account of this trip to a circle of acquaintances; or who, at a specified later date — say, between 1791 and 1816 — reminisces about this trip. ... Such a setting would provide a suitable vehicle, on the one hand, for disabusing a present-day audience of the disinformation permeating the play and its newly-fashioned prologue; that's to say, the absence of information revealing: the pivotal rôle of monks in the transmission of knowledge from the Middle Ages onwards; the less than liberty-loving nature of the political and economic 'movers and shakers' in revolutionary France; the different attitudes of Paris and the provinces concerning religion, monarchy, and much else besides. ... And, on the other, enlightening such an audience to various contemporary matters of importance, ranging from the problem of monastic and secular chastity to the severe difficulties in obtaining basic foodstuffs. ... Yes, Ralph?
PATTULLO.
In such an epilogue, would this provincial necessarily have to hold different political or religious views to those of the author and the members of the political club in Paris?
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
No; not at all. ... Providing one's new characters do not introduce further misinformation — from the perspective of a present-day audience — then their views, singly or collectively, can be as similar or as dissimilar to those originally expressed. That said, you should bear in mind that such views would probably be quite different in, say, 1816, than in 1801, 1794, 1791, or whenever.
PATTULLO.
Yes, Miss; thank you.
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Yes, Rudolph?
FLASHMAN.
Er, ... My apologies, Miss — since I don't want to appear like a dog with a bone — but could this provincial's home be awash with his daughters?
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Presumably so that you can introduce speaking parts for the remaining girls of the class?
FLASHMAN.
Yes, Miss.
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
That's a laudable intention. (She smiles warmly.) Mmm? ... In principle, yes: although in view of the very limited involvement of women in political discussions within the lifetime of this provincial, one might be sacrificing verisimilitude for expedience. (She turns to Dr. S.) What do you think, Dr. Stuart? (No response.) Dr. Stuart! (No response.) Alec!! (Dr. S. wakes up.)
Dr. STUART.
Pardon? (Sleepily.)
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
I asked: "What do you think?"
Dr. STUART.
Hmph! (Tetchily.) I haven't the faintest idea why Flashman and Pattullo chose this play: pure and utter nonsense — with its hand-me-down plot of star-crossed lovers, whose trivial contretemps are resolved by the wiles of a shrewd peasant; ... and whose sole novelty — for what it's worth — is its setting in a monastery. ... I simply can't be doing with such foolishness! ... Now, if you will excuse me, Mrs. Brummel, I have wasted enough of this evening already. (He leaves abruptly; each member of the class registers an expression of bemusement, save Flashman and Pattullo — who look annoyed and hurt, respectively. Then follows a pregnant pause.) ... ...
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Class, I will not apologize on behalf of Dr. Stuart for his uncharacteristic bad manners — since I'm sure he will do so himself — but I do apologize for not realizing that he was fast asleep, and not merely 'resting his eyes', throughout our discussion. ... Curiously, Dr. Stuart is quite correct in his assertion that this play has a standard — not to say clichéd — plot; one that was used in innumerable plays and operas in the 18th century. But paradoxically, perhaps, therein lies its potential value: then and now. Thus, its very commonness would have resonated with and entertained a contemporary audience, without them being unduly distracted from absorbing the thrust of the dramatist's propaganda; ... and to some degree, at least, this would hold equally true for a present-day audience — upto the point where the new raisons d'être begin to emerge; that is, in the epilogue. ... Yes, Trudi?
TRUDI.
Miss, would be I correct in supposing that Scud's suggestion last fall — of the juxtaposition of a purposely tasteless performance of Gueullette's The Blind, One-Armed, Deaf Mute in a military hospital — could have represented the nucleus of another example of this prologue-epilogue approach to an appropriated text?
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Yes, indeed; ... among other potentially fruitful nuclei.
TRUDI.
And, therefore, Miss, would be I correct in supposing that such an approach is generally applicable to other texts, historical ... or otherwise?
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Before I attempt to give an answer, partial ... or otherwise, to that question (She smiles mischievously at Trudi, who responds by gently laughing.), I think we must take a step back, so to speak. ... Now, one's first consideration should be defining — as closely as is reasonable — what are one's objectives, be it as an author, adapter, reviser, director, performer, stagehand, or whatever. ... Incidentally, as both Ralph and Rudolph effectively admitted earlier, they failed to define their objectives: and, in consequence, their production was little more than an inconsequential romp — albeit an agreeable one for all concerned. ... Then, having defined the objectives, one can focus on the structure best suited to realize these. ... Framing an appropriated text within a prologue and an epilogue self-evidently not only allows one to honour the supposèd intentions of the original author without being beholden to them, but should be dramatically more flexible than the foreword-afterword approach — which, if my memory serves me correctly, we also considered last fall. ... Mmm? (She glances at her watch.) Oh dear! This evening has well and truly flown; and I, at least, need time to pack for the start of half-term tomorrow: so, everyone, off you go! ...
Later that same evening. Flashman and Pattullo, both in a reflective mood, are engaged in a post-mortem in their study-dormitory ...
FLASHMAN.
Mmm,... Je me rends parfaitement compte de la critique de Mme Brummel ; c'était fine et constructive à la fois. Mais, celle-là de Barbydol ? Bien au contraire !
PATTULLO.
Oui ; je suis d'accord avec toi... Pour une raison ou une autre, le bon docteur est devenu de plus en plus irascible ce trimestre. (He looks perplexed.)
FLASHMAN.
Tant pis ! (His tone is dismissive.) La plus essentielle chose à présent : que faire ?...
PATTULLO.
Eh bien, d'abord et d'une, selon Mme Brummel, c'est bien évident qu'il n'y a pas de chemin simple ou même approprié d'intégrer les autres filles dans ce drame-là. Ainsi, puis-je proposer que nous le gardons pour la soif ?
FLASHMAN.
Entendu,... et puis, quoi, nous passons au plan C ?
PATTULLO.
Oui... Or, si je me souviens bien, nous avions rejeté tous les autres drames, sauf ceux de Laujon et de Corsange et Hapdé, n'est-ce pas ?
FLASHMAN.
Oui ; c'est bien ça.
PATTULLO.
Tu n'a pas eu quelques doutes même sur le drame de Mme de Gouges ?
FLASHMAN.
Non, Spats ; absolument pas. Certes, sa première scène — les échanges entre le Chevalier et Antoine — c'est tout à fait extraordinaire, peut-être la plus drôle chose que j'ai lue : mais après cela, hélas, tout cela allé en empirant. À mon avis, son drame est aussi monotone et propagandiste que ceux de Fiévée, de Flins et de Monvel... Tu n'es pas d'accord ?!
PATTULLO.
Si, Flashy ; absolument. Ne te tracasse pas (He smiles.) ; je tous simplement revérifiais !... Bien, tournons vers la division du travail ?
FLASHMAN.
D'accord !
PATTULLO.
Eh bien, durant les petites vacances, si tu pouvais polir nos traductions adaptées pour ces deux drames-là, j'étofferai l'essentiel de la structure.
FLASHMAN.
Pas de problème, pour moi au moins. Euh,... Mais, pour toi ?
PATTULLO.
Je sais pas, au vrai dire. Mais, comme on dit, seul l'avenir nous le dira...
________________________________________________________________________________________
1. «World History Day»: 6th July 1535, whereby the de facto murder of Sir Thomas More, an archetypal «true man», by King Henry VIII, an archetypal «false man», prevents the entirety of the species Homo sapiens, custodians of the only known habitable planet in the Universe, from being subsumed into a world-wide Catholic theocracy (see, amongst others, Dictatus papae, 1075, Unam sanctum, 1302, & Fidem catholicam, 1338): thus removing the only remaining obstacle to the acquisition of true knowledge (see, amongst others, Dialogo di Galileo Galilei, 1632, Abiura di Galileo Galilei, 22nd June 1633, & Providentissimus Deus, 1893).
2. Voltaire, né François-Marie Arouet (1694–1778), wrote in a letter to Nicolas-Claude Thiériot (1697-1772), dated 21st October 1736: "One must lie like the devil: not timidly, not for a while, but brazenly, and always."
3. «Marticide kills 999 individuals, or 99.9%, of a population of 1,000 asexually-reproducing Martians stone dead». ... Via a natural mutation of the genome, this surviving asexually-reproducing Martian, a paltry 0.1% of the original population, contains a gene which codes for the catabolism of Marticide: and so it, and all its offspring, is the fittest in environments where the agent of selection is this biocide.
4. Lewis Carroll, né Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (1832–1898), wrote in Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There (1872): "When I use a word," Humpty Dumpty said in a rather scornful tone, "it means just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less."
5. Comparing the consequences to mankind [Homo sapiens], and to all other species, of either Cristoforo Colombo taking one small step to board the Santa María, in late July 1492, or James Cook taking one small step to board the HMS Endeavour, on 27th May 1768, with Neil Armstrong taking one small step onto the lifeless moon, on 20th July 1969, is both enlightening and sobering.
________________________________________________________________________________________
First evening after half-term, in the 7th week. Flashman, carrryall in hand, enters the study-dormitory, where Pattullo is in the middle of unpacking ...
FLASHMAN.
Bonsoir, Spats. Me voici !
PATTULLO.
Enfin ! (He smiles.) Tu vas bien ?
FLASHMAN.
Oui, merci. Et toi ?
PATTULLO.
Comme ci comme ça. (F. frowns.)
FLASHMAN.
Oh ? (Then he smiles.) Eh bien, comme on dit, pas de repos pour les méchants !
PATTULLO.
C'est vrai ; nous sommes la preuve vivante de cela ! (Both laugh.) ...
FLASHMAN.
En mettant à part toutes les plaisanteries, Spats, tu as dû travailler comme forçat. À coup sûr, j'étais très impressionné par tes scripts des autres actes.
PATTULLO.
Merci, Flashy... As-tu trouvé aucune problème avec leur intégration ?
FLASHMAN.
Pas vraiment ; seulement quelques petits détails concernant les dates.
PATTULLO.
Super ! Si nous faisons les raffinements nécessaires avant le week-end, on peut commencer les répétitions la... (F. interrupts, having just noted a bouquet of flowers peeping out of P.'s carryall.)
FLASHMAN.
Tiens ! Pourquoi ces fleurs-là ?
PATTULLO.
Ah ! Seulement un cadeau de réconciliation. En ce moment, je ne suis pas dans les petits papiers de Chalice parce que je l'ai complètement négligée durant les petites vacances.
FLASHMAN.
Sapristi ! Moi aussi ; ... c'est-à-dire avec Flo, bien sûr. Mmm ? Quelle heure ? (He looks at his watch.) Oui, il y a de la marge. À tantôt, Spats ! (He dashes out.) ...
Late one afternoon, in the 7th week. In her sitting room, Mrs. B. is resting. Constance and Trudi arrive outside the door; then Trudi knocks ...
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Come in. (C. and T. enter.) Ah! Good afternoon, you two. (She smiles welcomingly.)
CONSTANCE & TRUDI.
Afternoon, Miss. (In unison.)
TRUDI.
Are we disturbing you, Miss?
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
No; not at all. Please, take a seat.
CONSTANCE & TRUDI.
Thank you, Miss. (In unison, as they sit down.)
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Now, how may I help you?
TRUDI.
Well, Miss, we'd like to run by you some thoughts about the prologue-epilogue approach to an appropriated text? (Mrs. B. looks puzzled.) That you floated just before half-term?
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Ah, yes! ... Oh! I thought that you two had nearly finished your entry for the General Studies' play «competition»; er, ... Sorrel, Wood?
CONSTANCE.
Yes, Miss, we have. But we're toying with the idea of a new structure (Mrs. B. frowns disapprovingly.), and we thought that it might be best to trial this with a hypothetical example.
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Hypothetical? ... No; never mind. ... I'm all attention!
TRUDI.
Well, Miss (She refers to some notes, as does Constance subsequently.), the setting of the prologue is the committee room of a village amateur dramatic society, wherein a small group of the local 'great and good' discuss the choice of a
play and its cast; ... this should allow ample scope for some light but warm-hearted comedy at the expense of rustic stereotypes? (Mrs. B. nods in agreement.)
CONSTANCE.
Then follows a straight rendition of J. B. Priestley's An Inspector Calls.
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Er? ... Ah, yes! ... Please, do continue.
TRUDI.
Followed by the epilogue, whose setting is the 'after-show party', wherein the principal character, parodying the eponymous inspector, slowly deconstructs the play itself and the villagers' motivations and performances. ...
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
You'll have to help me out here: ... "deconstructs the play"?
CONSTANCE.
Well, Miss, deconstructs might not be le mot juste; ... highlights its disinformation might be better. ... Anyway, first, despite the quite ghastly Birling family eventually realizing they are, singly and collectively, the root cause of their servant Edna's suicide, Priestley never gives any indication that this realization will necessarily prompt a change for the better in their future conduct, or that of any performer or spectator of his play. ... Second, the servant is not the only victim: no cognizance is given by Priestley — and, therefore, none by performers and spectators alike — of her unmentioned parents, who will surely grieve for her for the rest of their lives. ... And third, largely because he focuses on theatrics, Priestley makes no serious attempt to delineate the servant's frame of mind: and so a spectator has little or no possibility of subsequently recognizing, much less of materially helping, a similarly unfortunate person in his or her own real life. ...
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
The "servant's frame of mind" ...?
TRUDI.
Yes, Miss. ... In our view, in a putative suicide's mind, he or she feels truly alone and can make little or no sense of the past, the present, or the forseeable future. ...
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
By chance, have either of you discussed these musings with Dr. Stuart?
CONSTANCE & TRUDI.
No, Miss. (In unison.)
TRUDI.
Why do you ask, Miss?
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Well, I remember him, some eighteen months or so ago, advancing similar contentions; (She furrows her brow.) oddly enough, in connection with some serious mischief planned or possibly undertaken by certain lads in your class. Mmm? ... No matter. ... You do realize that similar 'disinformation' is latent in William Golding's Lord of the Flies?
CONSTANCE.
You mean with respect to Piggy and Simon? (Mrs. B. nods.) Yes, Miss; and, by analogy therefore, we contend that it has had, and will continue to have, almost certainly no salutary effect on readers or film audiences. ... Which, indirectly, brings us around to Trudi's and my problem.
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Which is? (She smiles encouragingly.)
TRUDI.
Texts in copyright; ... as, indeed, those two still are.
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Ah! (She smiles in recognition.) Hence the significance of your use of the phrase "historical ... or otherwise", in that discussion before half-term?
TRUDI.
Yes, Miss; I see that penny has now well and truly dropped! (She smiles mischievously; then all three share laughter.) Seriously, though, Miss, as far as we can determine, while your prologue-epilogue approach to an appropriated text might have extensive application for one-off performances, it can never lead to a formal publication if the text is still in copyright. (Mrs. B. looks baffled.)
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
No; I'm sorry, but I don't agree. Let's consider. ... While any given prologue and epilogue must necessarily be written out in full, the appropriated text — or, almost certainly better for the convenience of the reader, an informative précis thereof — can be referred to simply by the equivalent of a stage direction? (Both C. and T. look reflective, then nod in agreement.) Good! ... Now, while I warmly commend both of you for your initiative, it is incumbent upon me to take the wind out of your sails: so, brace yourselves! ... First and foremost, at this point in your school career, with little more than six months to your final examinations, you must prioritize. Common sense demands that whatever time you decide to allocate to the grey cells must be spent studying and revising: and not in inconsequential mental activities — for example, and in particular, those involving substantial modifications to your entry for the General Studies' play «competition». ... And second, aside from the time necessarily spent in sporting and recreational activities — adopting the adage of 'healthy body, healthy mind' (She smiles, then both C. and T. respond similarly.) — some, time that is, should be allocated to allowing those grey cells to do precisely nothing, without you feeling remotely guilty about doing so. ...
TRUDI.
By chance, Miss (She smiles mischievously.), would that be what you were doing before we disturbed you?
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Good heavens, no! (She laughs.) Never let it be said that I'm not a slave to duty! (Both C. and T. laugh.) Now, off you go: or off with your heads!
CONSTANCE & TRUDI.
Yes, Miss. Thank you. (In unison, as they leave.) ...
That same evening, in the 7th week. In her sitting room, Mrs. B. is reading. Lolli and Shandy arrive outside the door; then Lolli knocks ...
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Come in. (L. and S. enter.) Ah! Good evening! (She smiles welcomingly and gestures politely for L. and S. to take a seat.)
LOLLI & SHANDY.
Thank you, Miss. (In unison, as they sit down.)
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Now (She smiles mischievously.), I would hazard that your entry into this lioness's den is somehow related to your entry for the General Studies' play «competition»?
LOLLI.
Er?! ... Yes, Miss, but ... er, how did you guess?
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Well, ... first, I have noticed that, during General Studies this term, both of you have shown significantly lower commitment to your play, ... Waxen Poppets ...? (Both L. and S. nod.), and second, I observed both of you having an earnest discussion with Constance and Trudi shortly after they left here.
SHANDY.
From which, Miss, you inferred perhaps some harmless mischief afoot?
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
No; well, not necessarily. ... Merely that, given half-a-chance, you two would ditch your play into the long grass? (Both L. and S. adopt admixed expressions of surprise and a guilty conscience.)
SHANDY.
Well, Miss (She smiles nervously.), ... not necessarily. (All three smile.) As you know, Miss, Lolli and I decided that the scientific background of our play would be centred on the increasingly deleterious effects of pollution on bees.
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
From before the Industrial Revolution to the present day, ... and beyond?
LOLLI & SHANDY.
Yes, Miss. (In unison.)
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Ah! (She smiles mischievously.) I sense there is a caveat.
LOLLI.
Er, ... Yes, Miss. ... Whilst we have sketched out several scenarios for a play, we feel that they are all round holes for square pegs, ... so to speak.
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
And what is your most promising square peg, ... so to speak? (All three share gentle laughter.)
SHANDY.
Well, ... the deleterious experiences of beeswax dolls, which come to life, as their natural circadian rhythm progressively decreases with increases in pollution.
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Mmm, ... Very promising indeed! (Both L. and S. adopt admixed expressions of surprise and pleasure.) But, ... perhaps over-ambitious for a play?
LOLLI.
Yes, Miss.
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
No matter.
SHANDY.
No matter, Miss?!
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Indeed so. ... Your class appears to be under the false impression that full engagement in the General Studies' play «competition» is a compulsory activity (Both L. and S. look shocked.): ... whereas the Headmaster and Dr. Stuart's original conception was merely to provide you with a vehicle to contrast with your syllabus-based subjects.
SHANDY.
Er, ... Does that mean, Miss, that, as you put it, we can "ditch the play into the long grass"?
Mrs. BRUMMEL.
Certainly until after your final examinations next summer, when you will become free as a bird. (Both L. and S. look relieved.) ... However, you might care to consider, just occasionally, alternatives to a play for your most promising 'square peg'; ... for example, an animated serial? (Both L. and S. look reflective, then nod in agreement.)
LOLLI & SHANDY.
Yes, Miss. Thank you. (In unison, as they stand up then leave.)
Late one evening, in the 8th week. In his study, Dr. S. is making some preparative notes whilst listening to Zelenka's Missa Sanctissimae Trinitatis; the telephone rings, with Dr. Krautmann on t'other end ...
Dr. STUART.
Narkover, double two, four; Dr. Stuart speaking.
Dr. KRAUTMANN.
(Brisk tone.) Alec! No time for pleasantries; we've been here before!
Dr. STUART.
(Gently humorous tone.) Where, old bean?
Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Where?! You fool! Last time you dilly-dallied about seeing the urologist with regard to your prostate problems; and here you are, some two years on, doing exactly the same.
Dr. STUART.
No, Gustav, I beg to differ: it's not the same at all. Both you and he were confident in the need for, and the success of, a prostatectomy; and I'm truly grateful that you pushed me then. However, despite being less-than-explicit, the consultant oncologist gave me the distinct impression that a course of treatment would be a more a triumph of hope over expectation.
Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Alec, I've known Humphry Davis for years; dour and cautious he may be, but he's second to none.
Dr. STUART.
I'm not casting aspersions on his professional expertise, Gustav: but I do need more time to weigh my options.
Dr. KRAUTMANN.
(Impatient tone.) Alec, what a trite cliché! You've just two: treatment; or no treatment, ... with the inevitable unpleasant end.
Dr. STUART.
So be it, Gustav.
Dr. KRAUTMANN.
No, Alec: it's not it! Not it, by any means! Expect me to hound you hard and often from here on.
Dr. STUART.
(Flippant tone.) Old bean, the pleasure will be all mine.
Dr. KRAUTMANN.
Fool!! (He places the receiver down abruptly.) ...
Late one afternoon, in the 9th week. In a room used for the hobby of handicraft, Brown, East, Mumford, and Unman are reading through a script; Sig. Arsenio Salieri enters ...
Sig. SALIERI.
Ciao, tutti!
BOYS.
Afternoon, Sir. (In unison.)
Sig. SALIERI.
What's this then? (He points to a large model, and smiles.) Are you slacking or have you finally got bored with your Île d'Aix Fireships' project?
UNMAN.
Neither, Sir. It's just that it's Flashy and Spats' first full non-dress rehearsal this evening: so we're doing a last bit of swotting.
Sig. SALIERI.
Ah! Do any of you have meaty rôles?
EAST.
No, Sir. We opted for the minor ones, because we all have our hands full getting to grips with sign language.
Sig. SALIERI.
For the play?
EAST.
No, Sir. From Mr. Couch's lessons!
Sig. SALIERI.
Ah! Of course! ... And how are they going, Mumford?
MUMFORD.
Very well, Sir, thank you; ... though it's a steep learning curve.
Sig. SALIERI.
And you, Brown, are you enjoying them?
BROWN.
Yes, Sir; surprisingly so.
Sig. SALIERI.
And why do you say that?
BROWN.
Well, Sir, to be honest, I only signed up originally to give Mumsy moral support: but it's really fascinating.
Sig. SALIERI.
Good! (He smiles warmly.) Mmm, ... I see that I'm surplus to requirements today. So, ciao!
BOYS.
Ciao, Sir. (In unison, as Sig. Sal. leaves.) ...
Early Thursday evening, in the 10th week. In his study, Dr. S., dressed to the nines, is making final adjustments to his attire in front of a mirror. His ex-wife, Dr. Diana Stuart, with her second husband, Philip, arrives outside the door; then she knocks ...
Dr. STUART.
Veni! (D. and P. enter.)
DIANA.
Desmond (She smiles wickedly.), I mean, Alec, allow me to introduce you to Philip, my new husband. (Dr. S. and P. shake hands; then Dr. S. registers an expression of barely concealed anger, before addressing P. in tones of studied
politeness.)
Dr. STUART.
Sir, would be so kind as to allow Diana and myself a few moments in private to discuss certain matters concerning our daughter Flora?
PHILIP.
By all means, Dr. Stuart. (Then to D.) Darling, I'll meet up with you chez Brummel?
DIANA.
Sure; I won't be long. (P. nods to Dr. S., then leaves.)
Dr. STUART.
You ... you really are a truly malicious ... grade A ... bitch!!
DIANA.
I beg your pardon?!
Dr. STUART.
How dare you bring that utterly contemptible man here!
DIANA.
"Contemptible"? What are you talking about? How dare you slander him; you have never met Philip before!
Dr. STUART.
True! ... He and I have never been formally introduced: but you, you introduced him into our marital bed. Heavens above! He was your lover on the very afternoon of the car accident!! ...
DIANA.
No?! (Her tone is an admixture of shock and doubt.) Surely not? ... No.
Dr. STUART.
Yes!! The very same; I saw you with my own eyes before I went to collect Flora from the nursery. Yes!! And whilst I was unconscious, the doctors were fighting to save Flora's life and her sight: and, damn me, woman, they lost, ... they lost that second battle. (D. looks mortified.) ... ...
DIANA.
Alec, I don't know what to say. ... Truly, I didn't remember that Philip was with me that afternoon — it's nearly fifteen years ago — but had I done so, believe me, I would not have brought him here. ...
Dr. STUART.
Diana, you betrayed me throughout our marriage: why should I believe you now? For all I know, this Philip — or anyone in Boston for that matter (His tone is bitterly disdainful.) — could be Flora's biological father.
DIANA.
No, ... no! I do appreciate that I hurt you greatly while we were married, and I do realize that I have unwittingly done so again today: but I assure you that I was absolutely faithful to you until our Flora was born. (Dr. S. continues to look angry and skeptical.) Alec, if it were just a matter of putting your mind at rest, I would agree to DNA tests here and now: but it's not. Much to my surprise, I freely admit,
Flora is happier here at Narkover than at any time in her life; whether this is because she feels that she has found true love with Rudolph or... (Dr. S. interjects.)
Dr. STUART.
Who's Rudolph, for heaven's sake?!
DIANA.
Flashman.
Dr. STUART.
Oh! (He looks slightly embarrassed.) I see.
DIANA.
Well, whatever be the reason, or reasons, for her happiness, surely you must agree that, at this late and crucial stage of her school career, we must not do anything that might imperil her frame of mind? ...
Dr. STUART.
Yes; I agree with you there.
DIANA.
Thank you. ... Should you wish to be reassured at some point in the future — after Flora has left Narkover — then that is what will be done.
Dr. STUART.
Fair enough. ...
DIANA.
Now, in view of Philip's presence, would I be correct in assuming you won't be attending the Brummels' Thanksgiving dinner?
Dr. STUART.
You assume correctly! (Then his tone softens.) Would you be so kind as to present my apologies to Bob and Chandaleur?
DIANA.
Yes, Alec; that's the least I can do.
Dr. STUART.
Thank you. ... Now, please, just ... go! (He turns his back on her, then reaches for his pipe.)
DIANA.
As you wish. (She leaves.) ...
Penultimate evening of the second half of term, in the 12th week. Seated in the audience of the school's theater are the staff and students, together with a liberal sprinkling of parents, guardians, and relatives. Standing center stage, in front of the curtain, is the Headmaster ...
Mr. POND.
Good evening, ladies and gentleman. ... ... As most of you will undoubtedly know, the responsibility for producing and performing Narkover's traditional winter term play falls to the Upper Sixth-Remove; and this year is no exception. ... However, in an unprecedented break with tradition, this year's vintage has chosen not to draw upon the canonical plays, but rather to write and perform an ensemble piece de novo. ... So, without further ado, (Referring to a copy of the program given to each member of the audience, he reads the names of the cast, etc., before moving off-stage.) in a performance with, in order of their appearance, [T. M.] as the [Narrator], [R. P.] as [A., factotum ...], [J. M.] as ... ...
| Toby Mumford | NARRATOR. |
| Ralph Pattullo | ANTOINE, factotum of Sainte Magdalene's Convent. |
| Jack Merridew | CLAUDE, Antoine's son. |
| Lolli Stich | Sr. RADEGONDE, professed nun; successively Sr. Portress, mistress of the novices, and governess of the boarders. |
| Flora Stuart | Mlle VICTOIRE, boarder (blind). |
| Duncan McKechnie | Fr. MARIE-BON-PHILIPPE BOTTIN, non-juring parish priest. |
| Rudolph Flashman | Dr. MARIE-NICOLAS PLATON, physician and town councillor. |
| Alice L.-Lonsdale | Sr. MÉLANIE, professed nun; Sr. Procuratress (bursar). |
| Malice A. Forthort | Sr. AIMÉE, professed nun; governess of the wayfarer's shelter (hospice). |
| Shandy Drynck | Mlle ORMEVILLE, boarder. |
| Chalice Poison | Sr. SAINTE-ANGE, novice |
| Trudi Taplow | Mme (DOWAGER) MARCHIONESS de SAINT-SER, widower. |
| Popsy Rice | REVEREND MOTHER IPHIGÉNIE, mother superior. |
| Constance Bonacieux | Mlle SOPHIE, successively boarder, postulant, novice. |
| Salice Albero | Mlle EUGÉNIE, successively boarder, postulant, novice. |
| Chalice Poison * | Mlle CÉCILE, boarder. |
| Shandy Drynck * | Mlle JULIE, boarder. |
| James Unman | Fr. LEVENEUR, juring priest. |
| George Wittering | ARMAND, convalescing officer. |
| Frederick Zigo | FRANÇOIS, convalescing soldier. |
| Scudamore East | M. DURAND, property owner. |
| Hamish Brown | M. CALMEL, surveyor. |
| * Playing two characters. Several other students, ad necessitatem. | |
... the Upper Sixth-Remove present their production of:
........................................................................................
STORMY WEATHER COVENANTS
A Quasi-palimpsest,
by Rudolph Flashman and Ralph Pattullo
of Narkover College, near Borchester, England.
FOREWORD.
From the wings, the middle-aged narrator, holding a blue folder, walks to the center of the apron, in front of the curtain.
NARRATOR.
Good evening. ... Our family has lived in this farm-house for some three hundred years or so. When I was a nipper, I had this romantic notion that our anglicized forebears were Huguenot refugees, following Louis XIV's 1685 Revocation of the Edict of Nantes — a statute passed by Henri IV in 1598, which had conferred legal status on the Protestant Church in France. ... In the event, the aforementioned authors of our English branch of the family were of sound Catholic stock. ... Not suprisingly, during this long period, our farm-house has accumulated its fair share of 'memorabilia'; I use that word advisedly, because I view most of it to be worthless junk, which should be disposed of on a suitable occasion — Guy Fawke's Night, perhaps? — whereas my lady wife considers same to be uniformly invaluable heirlooms, which should be passed on until the end of time. However, I fear that both of us may be disappointed, since — for several years now — our son's exclusive hobby, not to say principal mission in life, has been to catalogue and to determine the value of everything present in the house and its various out-buildings. ... Well, a few months ago, during the course of one of his forays, Charles discovered this blue folder [He points to same.], wrapped in oilskin, and handed it to me with the question: "Is it worth anything?!" I was so taken aback by his brazen philistinism, that I was within a whisker of losing my manners. But, happily in retrospect, I limited myself to the non-committal reply of: "Without reading its contents, Charles, I wouldn't know. So, leave it with me, please." And, several days later, I sat down and read the folder. Mmm? ... First, allow me to provide you with its overall description. ... On the first page is written: Extraits de La Relation de la conduite édifiante et des vertus des anciennes mères et sœurs du couvent de Sainte-Madeleine vers Lagny-sur-Marne durant la Révolution française; that's to say: Extracts from The Account of the Edifying Conduct and Virtues of the former Mothers and Sisters of Sainte Magdalene's Convent, near Lagny-sur-Marne, during the French Revolution — followed by the name Mme Adélaïde Lionel, who, according to our family's geneological data-base, was born in 1797 and died in 1849, and who was a schoolmistress in a village in Provins, situated in the present Département de Seine-et-Marne, roughly fifty miles south-east of Paris. Then follows a script for a dramatic presentation, albeit with minimal stage directions. And, finally, a table for each annual performance — from 1823 until 1848, except 1830 — together with the date of each performance — which, though variable from year to year, corresponds to the Monday of Holy Week — and, alongside the characters they portrayed, the initials of her pupils. ... At the present time, there are several unanswered questions about the folder, including its verisimilitude and its degree of completeness — to say nothing of its raison d'être. ... Nevertheless, mistakenly or otherwise, I do consider that a dramatized production of my English translation not only has a degree of merit in its own right, but may also allow the spectator to hazard a reasonable conjecture as to my distant relative's original purpose or purposes. ... ...
PROLOGUE.
[Costumes: Antoine & Claude, dark-colored pantaloons and shirts; Sr. Radegonde, conventual dress; Mlle Victoire, pale-colored long skirt and long-sleeved blouse; Fr. Bottin, black cassock; Dr. Platon, brown frock coat, breeches.]
Curtain rises, to reveal a part of Sainte Magdalene Convent's well-kempt walled garden: upstage, a wooden bench and two stools; stage left, a gate, with a view of the open countryside; stage right, a large door leading to the kitchen, from which Antoine enters the garden upon hearing the gate's bell ring.
SCENE 1. Antoine, Claude: the latter, carrying a package, enters via the gate.
ANTOINE.
Ah! Where you been, Claude?
CLAUDE.
Lagny, father; [Pointing to the package.] I been fetchin' them purchases for our bursar Sr. Mélanie.
ANTOINE.
[Smiling.] And, no doubt, been drinkin' a jug or two at the tavern.
CLAUDE.
No, father; I be returnin' tardy bec's I be meetin' Fr. Bottin and Dr. Platon, who be escortin' Sr. Portress and a new boarder, Mlle Victoire, who be a blind orphan. ... They be askin' me that Mlle Sophie and Mlle Eugénie be in the kitchen welcomin'.
ANTOINE.
Ah! ... Well then, son, you be off findin' them mischievous young ladies.
CLAUDE.
Yes, father. [As he exits via the kitchen door, Sr. Radegonde and Mlle Victoire enter via the gate; Sr. R. holds a valise in one hand and Mlle V.'s hand in t'other.]
SCENE 2. Antoine, Sr. Radegonde, Mlle Victoire.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[Cheerfully.] Good afternoon, Antoine!
ANTOINE.
[Warmly but respectfully.] Good afternoon, Sr. Portress. ... And this young lady be Mlle Victoire?
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Indeed so.
ANTOINE.
[Warmly to Mlle V.] Mademoiselle, you be welcome to Sainte Magdalene's Convent.
Mlle VICTOIRE.
Thank you, Monsieur, ... er, Antoine?
ANTOINE.
[Exchanging smiles with Sr. R.] Yes; I be always Antoine. ... But, Sr. Portress, here, be usually Sr. Radegonde to the ladies in your new home. [To Sr. R.] Sister, if Claude not been dilly-dallyin', you be findin' Mlle Sophie and Mlle Eugénie in the kitchen.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Splendid! ... Thank you, Antoine. [As Sr. R. and Mlle V. exit via the kitchen door, Dr. Platon and Fr. Bottin enter via the gate.]
SCENE 3. Antoine, Dr. Platon, Fr. Bottin.
Dr. PLATON.
Good afternoon, Antoine.
ANTOINE.
[Touching his forelock.] Good afternoon, Dr. Platon. [Then he touches his forelock to Fr. B.] Good afternoon, your Reverence. [He kneels on both knees.] Father, bless. [Fr. B. does so, then A. stands up.]
Fr. BOTTIN.
Antoine, would you be so kind as to keep the coachman company for a short while?
ANTOINE.
Yes, Father; it be a pleasure. [He exits via the gate.]
Dr. PLATON.
[Withdrawing two sealed documents from his coat.] Philippe, may I entrust you to hand these two documents, in person, to Reverend Mother Iphigénie?
Fr. BOTTIN.
Yes, Nicolas. ... May I enquire as to their nature?
Dr. PLATON.
Certainly. ... Both relate to Mlle Victoire: the first includes notarized details of her birth, baptism, and confirmation, as well as the transfer of legal guardianship to the reverend mother; and the second is a letter of introduction to M. Valentin Haüy, who recently established France's first school for blind children.
Fr. BOTTIN.
Mmm? ... But surely, Nicolas, had you given me these documents in Lagny, you would not have wasted your invaluable time?
Dr. PLATON.
[Warmly.] Setting aside my obligation to due and proper form, Philippe, time spent with my dearest friend is never wasted.
Fr. BOTTIN.
[Smiling mischievously.] Given your infrequent attendance at St. Savior's for both Confession and Mass, I beg to differ!
Dr. PLATON.
[Laughing gently.] Each to his own, Father, each to his own! [He glances at his fob watch.] Speaking of which, my attendance at this evening's council meeting is obligatory. See you tomorrow! [He moves towards the gate and Fr. B. turns towards to the kitchen. ... Curtain falls. .... Curtain Music: ad libitum.]
ACT 1.
[Costumes: Mother Superior, Sisters Aimée, Mélanie, Radegonde & Sainte-Ange, conventual dress; Mlle Ormeville, pale-blue silk dress, save Scene 14 (pale-pink silk dress); Marchioness de Saint-Ser, chestnut-brown long skirt and short coat, white long-sleeved blouse, gloves, hat; Boarders, pale-colored long skirts and long-sleeved blouses.]
Curtain rises, to reveal the Mother Superior's sitting room: upstage, a large grilled-door, leading to the cloister; halfway-up the wall is a tour (i.e., a round pivoted cupboard within the thickness of the wall, allowing the nuns to receive from and send articles to the outside); stage right, a wooden door, leading to the grand parlor (i.e., the visitors' sitting room); stage left, a large window. The sitting-room is furnished with a harpsichord, a caged canary, a few armchairs, a table, and a vase of fresh flowers.
SCENE 1. Sr. Mélanie, Sr. Aimée: Sr. M. enters via the parlor door; Sr. A., who arrives at the cloister door at almost the same time as Sr. M., has some books in her hands.
Sr. MÉLANIE.
[Looking at the vase of flowers.] Thanks be to Heaven; our good reverend mother's sitting room is decorated just as she wanted it! [She notices Sr. A.] Ah! Sr. Aimée, isn't that so?
Sr. AIMÉE.
Absolutely delighful, Sr. Mélanie, ... er, from what I can see ...?
Sr. MÉLANIE.
Oh! [Rushing excitedly to open the cloister door.] Sister, come on!
Sr. AIMÉE.
You have the key, Sister?
Sr. MÉLANIE.
The reverend mother lent it to me in order to open it for Sr. Sainte-Ange. [Sr. A. enters, where she examines everything with satisfaction.]
Sr. AIMÉE.
Ah! This is indeed a most agreeable view, with the reverend mother's armchair between her canary and her flowers. My word, it's perfect!
Sr. MÉLANIE.
It's as she requested. She should find all her usual small comforts close at hand or under her eyes. ... But, Sister, you look as exhausted as me? [She sits down.]
Sr. AIMÉE.
That I am, Sister. What a morning! ... Mercy me! ... From five o'clock, I have been in the pharmacy, preparing the reverend mother's herbal tonic; then, from her room to the storehouse, to move the best chairs, the harpsichord, and the study table, with Sr. Radegonde; next, to the garden, to gather flowers, with Antoine; ... then just a brief moment to myself in the refectory. [She sighs.]
Sr. MÉLANIE.
As one might expect, Sister. And me? Waking before dawn; ... look at my eyes! I'm sure that they're afraid to see me dress in a hurry; [Sr. A. fastens her veil.] certainly, my veil barely keeps on my head; [Volubly.] then, waking the reverend mother and attending to her toilette; next, without a moment's respite, sending off a letter from her...
Sr. AIMÉE.
[Interjecting.] To whom, Sister?
Sr. MÉLANIE.
[With feeling.] Eh! I didn't take the precaution of noting the addressee.
Sr. AIMÉE.
[In a tone of gentle reproach.] Oh, Sister!
Sr. MÉLANIE.
I'm sorry, but I was so flustered. ... Mmm, ... I wonder why there are all these inconveniences; what's her purpose in having her sitting room so well decorated?
Sr. AIMÉE.
I think it might well be to impress the new mistress; she'll be giving her first lessons today. ... Anyway, whatever it be, it must surely be purposeful, since, despite her present frail state of health, our good reverend mother is her usual astute self. [A bell sounds.]
Sr. MÉLANIE.
Ah! That's the reverend mother ringing for me. [Moving towards the cloister door.] I'll be back in a trice, after I've informed her that we have finished all her errands. [Moving into the wings, she exits upstage left.]
Sr. AIMÉE.
[Calling out after Sr. M.] Try to find out something!! [Then to herself.] What, though, I've no idea. ... How annoying! ... I would guess the letter is about marriage? ... The reverend mother does like to show an interest in the boarders' families, so perhaps she wants to discuss the matter with this new harpsichord mistress? Such women are well connected! Mmm, ... Whatever it be, I expect to see some grand lady arrive here this afternoon, ... in this sitting-room [She sweeps a critical glance around the room; then her tone changes to one of understated pleasure.], which has been so splendidly decorated for the occasion. [Sr. M. reappears at the cloister door.] Ah! Sr. Mélanie, did you find out anything?
Sr. MÉLANIE.
No; nothing. Now: come on! Take your books; we'll give everything to Sr. Radegonde. [After Sr. A. has passed through the cloister door, she closes and locks same; then rings a bell.] Sister! Sr. Portress!
SCENE 2. The Same, Sr. Radegonde.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[Entering via the parlor door; her tone is slightly weary but warm.] Well, well! More chores for me, I'd hazard?
Sr. MÉLANIE.
Yes, Sr. Radegonde. The tour, if you please, for Sr. Sainte-Ange's music books.
Sr. AIMÉE.
And those for history, geography,...
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[Interrupting cheerfully.] I know, I know!
Sr. MÉLANIE.
And this chocolate maker! [She shows and places same in the tour.]
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Splendid! Do thank the reverend mother for me. ... Pass me the bell, if she has need of me. ...
Sr. MÉLANIE.
If the new mistress arrives, you'll ring for the reverend mother? She wants to speak to no one else.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Eh?! No, Sister, surely not? I doubt whether the reverend mother would have forgotten that she told me that she would be receiving a marchioness here today to discuss with her a matter of uncommon interest to one of our boarders.
Sr. MÉLANIE.
And what that might be, Sister?
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Ah! What indeed! ... I would like to share her confidence with you both, but, needless to say, ... [She tails off; then to Sr. M. in a more business-like tone.] Sr. Mélanie, please go immediately and inform the reverend mother that I'll carry out her expressed wishes.
Sr. MÉLANIE.
Yes, Sr. Radegonde; I'm off now. [To Sr. A.] Here's the key, should Sr. Sainte-Ange arrive. [She moves into the wings, upstage left.] ...
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Mmm, ... I'm blessed with a good memory — The Lord be thanked! — otherwise today might have a proven a missed opportunity.
Sr. AIMÉE.
In what matter, Sister? Please, do tell.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[Conspiratorially.] Well, I'll say this to you, ... [She breaks off on hearing voices sounding from the cloister.] Ah! No; ... I think I hear Sr. Sainte-Ange's voice?
Sr. AIMÉE.
Yes; and Mlle Ormeville's.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Mlle Ormeville? Oh dear! I better make myself scarce, since I've not managed to run her errand yet: so, doubtless, I'll not be in her favor!
Sr. AIMÉE.
Particularly as she did her toilette early this morning.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Just so! [Then, in a somewhat enigmatic tone.] There are, perhaps, good reasons for that. [She exits via the parlor door; then Sr. A. unlocks the cloister door, leaving it ajar, before moving into the wings, upstage left.]
SCENE 3. Sr. Sainte-Ange, Mlle Ormeville: both enter via the cloister door.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[Looking through the window.] Sr. Sainte-Ange, look! What glorious weather! Shall we go into the garden?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
No; ... no thank you, Mlle Ormeville.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
No? But what do you want with the reverend mother's sitting room?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
To benefit from the gracious permission she gave me; finding here the recreations which I seek.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
You and your infernal harpsichord! Your music and drawings; you call those ... recreations?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
Do you know of others that are more agreeable?
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Yes; particularly as those ones are so tiresome.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
They bore you?
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
To death! ...
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
I pity you.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[Adopting a most contented look.] Why so? I have nothing to complain about! ... Now, Sr. Sainte-Ange, do pay me a compliment!
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
About what?
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Eh?! ... You can't guess the reason for my cheerful countenance?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
No.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
You've not noticed that I'm more finely dressed than usual?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
Ah! Perhaps you have been seeing your lady mother?
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
My father, you mean. ... Not, I hasten to add, that I don't love my mother just as much — if only I didn't always find that she gave the same lessons as we receive in the convent.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
That's simply because she loves you; and the more affection a mother has for her daughter, the less she indulges the defects that she notices in her.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Defects? I don't have any! [Sharply.] You have found some in me?!
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Smiling wryly.] I didn't say that!
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Then you readily see that she's wrong; even more so, as it's not my fault that our tastes are different. For example, I like finery, she hates it; she likes reading, I can't suffer it — except novels, which I adore to distraction: but which she snatches from me, as soon as she can surprise me reading them.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
She's at fault there.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Isn't she just?! I think they're much more interesting than knowing, for example, whether Charlemagne lived before or after Julius Caesar — some two hundred years or so ago. [S.-A. raises a quizzical eyebrow.] Don't you agree?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Laughing with incredulity.] Oh yes; you're right.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Indeed I am; since what use is it? ... They ring the bell for me when each mistress arrives; the lesson starts; it bores me, so I yawn; she notices this, so she stands up; then I give her the fee, so she leaves perfectly content: and me too! Each day is much the same, since I care little for what inconveniences me; ... and, when all is said and done, when one is rich, one has no need for such nonsense.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[In a gentle but noticeably serious tone.] Eh? ... Those fortunes which appear the best assured are often those which collapse most easily. Who better than me is witness to that? Where would I be, if my accomplishments had not ensured me here a fate safe from all manner of happenings?
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[Very sharply.] A fate! Mercy me! You call a place in the noviciate, a fate?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
Yes; a most comforting one indeed, given that there are no other resources available to me, aside from my talents — very feeble as they are! — and which will serve as my dowry
in this convent, thanks to the reverend mother's kindness.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[In a slightly withering tone.] Ah, yes! The reverend mother has arranged that rather well. [Very sharply.] But, make no mistake, it is you who will be useful to her.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Sweetly.] Please don't belittle my obligations to her.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[Aside, disdainfully.] Does she think that this is for the love of her? Poor dupe! [To S.-A.] Come now, the reverend mother — with her honeyed tones and self-satisfied airs — knows full well what she is doing. Her good opinion of you does not prevent her from being aware how necessary you have become here, given that you are...
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Interjecting.] Very grateful!
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Hmph! So be it! ... But whatever may be appropriate for you — since you have no other resources — will surely not be so for me, who is rich?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
I too was born so. [In a sad tone.] If my father, the object of all my regrets,...
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[Interrupting.] What?! Given that it was he who made you a victim by his own imprudence!
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
Ah! So you intend to tell me about my past?
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Certainly not! [She smiles.] Let's leave that to one side, and talk about matters that interest me. For a start, how do you find me?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[In a gently ironic tone.] Decidedly interesting!
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Well, that's because I have good reason to be particularly well turned out today. I'll share a secret with you, ... but you must promise not to repeat it?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Shrugging with indifference.] I'm not at all curious.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
But you must be; a nun always is!
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Laughing.] But I'm still only a novice.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Jesting aside, do congratulate me: [Joyfully.] I'm going to leave the convent!
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Laughing.] You announce your leaving with so much pleasure that it's clear that you'll not leave behind many regrets! Nor, I might add, too many friends.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
My word, you do show an admirable frankness!
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
It's the only merit that I know of myself.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
That's not so: otherwise I wouldn't have entrusted you with such a confidence.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Smiling mischievously.] One that you've already entrusted to at least half-a-dozen others?
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[Sharply.] What! They've spoken to you about it? ... Oh! The chatterboxes!
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Laughing.] But why would you want to keep such a secret, particularly as you so often seek to vex your companions?
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
So that they don't have the pleasure of humiliating me! ... Whatever the topic, they find a way of quoting the Marquis, my father, the Commander, my uncle, the Baron, my young brother. ... Yet it's me who is afflicted by these titles!
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
True. Yet it's you who imitates their wrongs by crushing them with the weight of your father's fortune, which blinds you...
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[Interjecting.] Which blinds them with jealousy, ... even though I merely announced that my marriage would make me their equal, I saw that they were choking with resentment as they presented their compliments.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
That was most unbecoming of them! Nevertheless, I do feel that you should not have spoken about marriage with so much confidence. In my opinion, you should have waited at least until you are assured of pleasing your intended's mother. [She moves to the study table.]
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
So you know that my mother will be bringing her here today? ... As everyone now knows! ... But, do you doubt that I'll please her? You alarm me! Am I not suitably turned out?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Smiling wryly.] I didn't say that!
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
But I guess as much. Admit it: blue doesn't suit me. And it's all the fault of your stupid Sr. Radegonde; I told her to collect a pink gown for me: and I'm still waiting for it this morning! [She briefly rings the bell in an impatient manner.]
SCENE 4. The Same, Sr. Radegonde.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[On entering.] Alright, alright! Whether you ring once or a hundred times, it takes time to get up the stairs!
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Ah! There you are, Sr. Portress!
Sr. RADEGONDE.
I thought the reverend mother was taken poorly, or, at the very least, a fire had taken hold in the convent.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
I've been ringing for the best part of five minutes: why has it taken you so long?
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[Testily.] Why?! ... Well, Mademoiselle, despite your penchant for giving orders, I don't only carry them out for you!
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Why ever not? It seems to me that my father gives you some rather good New Year's gifts for the purpose.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[Even more testily.] My word, Mademoiselle, ... they are small but welcome gifts, I would agree, ... but ones which are — in your case — thoroughly well earned; you can take my word for it! ... Be that as it may, what do you want?
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Pardon me! What do I want?! Have you forgotten the pink gown that I asked you to have collected from the fashionable dressmakers? Well, thanks to your negligence, I'll not have it.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[Testily.] Excuse me! Thanks to my negligence! ... Can I go there, myself? No! Can I leave my tour? No! ... What I was able to do, however, was to send Antoine.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Hmph! [Dismissively.] Antoine is naught but an idler.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[Looking bemused.] Antoine? Antoine, ... who is diligence personified, who has such a good heart, and who has had to miss his morning repast — without so much as a word of thanks from you! And I have let my chocolate cool, merely to listen to this! ... Bah! [She starts to leave.]
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Ah! You're so impatient.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[Retracing her steps, and spluttering with anger.] Give me strength! ... Mademoiselle, should you be minded to come down from your high-horse, as they say, you would be well advised to say nothing more! [S.-A. smiles, shrugs her shoulders, takes a book, sits down, and starts to read.]
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
So be it! Your blather annoys me! [She then glances at S.-A.] Besides, it seems to me that I'm preventing Sr. Sainte-Ange from reading: so I might as well go into the garden. [She starts to leave in high dudgeon, but then retraces her steps.] Ah! If a marchioness arrives — a marchioness, you hear? — whom my mother will be introducing to me, be sure to ring me immediately! [She exits.]
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[Grumbling to herself.] We won't forget; chance would be a fine thing! [To S.-A.] Perhaps we'll soon be rid of her, since the meeting with this marchioness concerns a marriage; ... you know that?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
Yes, Sister.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Well, I hope her meeting proceeds satisfactorily, since I — who would wish evil on no one, as the good Lord is my witness — would much prefer that she doesn't remain with us for much longer.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Getting up after having replaced the book.] I suspect that one and all agrees with you, since, sadly, she does little to endear herself to anyone here.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Least of all me, Sister! ... Yet, I'm most attached to the reverend mother; and to all the young ladies; and you, Sister, in particular.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
I thank you, Sr. Radegonde.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
No, it's the truth. ... But can one imagine what it would be to have two like her! Well, ... I do believe that I would give up being the sister portress, rather than have to deal with more of her ilk; ... yes, I would much prefer to be an ordinary sister engaged in the kitchen or the garden.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[In a concerned tone.] My poor sister, I believe that you may have forgotten that your chocolate is getting cold?
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Ah! Much obliged, Sister! [She leaves and then returns.] By the way, I forgot to tell you that the harpsichord mistress is ill, so she's had to send another in her place.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Smiling appreciatively.] That's fine.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[As she is leaving.] The reverend mother told me earlier this morning; but because of Mlle Ormeville, I forgot to inform you sooner. ... Honestly, she does turn my head! [Warmly.] See you later, Sister. [She exits.]
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
See you later, Sr. Radegonde!
SCENE 5. Sr. Sainte-Ange, alone.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Laughing as she moves towards the harpsichord.] Poor Sr. Radegonde isn't happy; and, frankly, she has every reason. What a character Mlle Ormeville is! I haven't come across anyone in this convent who wouldn't be pleased to see her humiliated — how I pity the husband who will have her! ... While I await the arrival of the harpsichord mistress, perhaps I should practise a little? [She leafs through a few music books.] Let me see: a harpsichord piece? ... No. An aria, perhaps? ... Ah! My favorite song! [She sits down at the harpsichord and sings.]
| The cherished attraction of this convent Is surely the tranquility of the innocent. When shall I have the felicitous right To share fully in this peaceful delight? This thought is but one true feeling Which appeals to my humble being. Here the strictures of our Rule Adorn time like a precious jewel. And where amity alone has rights To entwine our sensitive hearts. This thought is but one true feeling Which appeals to my humble being. Contemplation and... |
[She stops in mid-phrase on hearing the visiting room's bell.] Ah! Someone has just rung for the reverend mother; presumably it's that marchioness. [She stands up, and puts away her music.]
SCENE 6. Sr. Sainte-Ange, Marchioness de Saint-Ser, Sr. Radegonde: the latter pair enter via the parlor door; the marchioness holds a book of music, and Sr. R. holds the former's portfolio of drawings.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[After having set down the portfolio.] Madame, if you would care to sit down, the reverend mother will be along shortly.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[To the marchioness.] You might like to know, Madame, that in her present frail state of heath, she isn't able to move easily: so I'll go and give Sr. Radegonde a helping hand.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Sister, you're most kind. ... Might I dare ask you to inform her that I'm the drawing and music mistress whom Mme Henri has sent to stand in for her?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
Yes, Madame. [She curtsies.] I'll run your errand with the greatest of pleasure. [Cheerfully.] I'm delighted to tell you that I'll have the honor of being one of your pupils!
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[Brightly.] And I'm delighted by the prospect! But don't forget that it is for want of Mme Henri, whose talents I certainly don't possess!
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Laughing gently.] Ah! Modesty is the dissimulation of talent. But, surely, Madame, your time is precious; I'll be off to inform the reverend mother. [She exits.]
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Thank you, Sister. ... [To Sr. R.] She's a very kind young nun?
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Kind, gentle, ... Ah! What it is to know her! She's Sr. Sainte-Ange.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[In a surprised tone.] What! Sainte-Ange; I know that name well.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Yes; [From here on: broken phrasing in a rather excitable voice.] it was her name as a boarder ... she was one before entering the noviciate; she had a father, ... I mean, that goes without saying: but who is her father? ... he married a second time ... to a woman who was not Sr. Sainte-Ange's mother. ... It's quite a story! ... The father, ... was he really a naval captain?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Yes; I believe so.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Yes; yes, indeed. [As above.] Her gentleness and countenance are plain to see: but are nothing in comparison to her soul. ... So as not to impose on her stepmother ... who had need of the little her father had left ... since he embarked with almost all his fortune ... and he and his ship on the high seas? Well, nothing was saved, ... you understand? ... Now, that young lady could have claimed her father's estate from her stepmother; and rightfully so. ... But, Madame, she preferred to provide relief to her stepmother and to become a nun; ... yet she says nothing about it, ... because she doesn't want to burden anyone; ... and that's probably for the best. So, Madame, although I've told you, I hope you'll not speak further about it?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[In a bemused tone.] Have no fear! ... [In a purposeful tone.] But now, do tell me a little about Mlle Ormeville?
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Oh! She'll be your pupil too. [Aside.] But what a difference! You'll see. Yes, you'll see. [Aloud.] Ah! Here's the reverend mother!
SCENE 7. Marchioness de Saint-Ser, Sr. Radegonde, Mother Superior: the latter enters, supported by Sr. Radegonde.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[To the marchioness.] Madame M... [The marchioness makes her a gesture indicating discretion.] Ah, yes! Sr. Portress, please leave us a while.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[On leaving.] If Mlle Ormeville brings that marchioness, do your orders still hold true, Reverend Mother?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
We'll see; ... yes, yes! [Sr. R. exits.] I do beg your pardon, your ladyship, but I had thought to call you Mme Marchioness.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
So I gathered: hence the sign. [She smiles.] My word, you would have been found out! [They sit down.] Now, how are you?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
As well as can be expected, Madame, given my present state of health and the administration of this house and the shelter founded by your generosity; [She smiles appreciatively at the marchioness, then raises her hands to the heavens.] but the good Lord grants me many graces. ... Now, shall we address ourselves to the matter in hand?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Yes, providing you don't call me Mme Marchioness!
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Have no fear, I'll not make that mistake again. I've have already announced in this house that you are a mistress of music and drawing. [She laughs gently in a slightly guilty but quietly satisfied manner.] So, would you like me to ring for Mlle Ormeville?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
No; not yet. Let's talk about her for a moment.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[Smiling.] Are you're worried that I might have forgotten the substance of your letter? Well, judge for yourself: ... 'You have a son, aged 26; an army colonel, ... who does not lack a fortune.'
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Indeed; since, apart from his own endeavors, my son should have — after my passing — an income of some 25,000 livres.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Oh! Mlle Ormeville will, in due course, be immensely rich; though her father is more concerned with being able to call his daughter Mme Marchioness. ... But I digress! Let's continue. ... 'How you wished that your son, in taking a wife, gave you, in her, a companion who contributed to your well-being.' Yes? [The marchioness nods in agreement.] You and your son are in accord in this matter, presumably?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Yes. Furthermore, he has left me the absolute master in the choice of his intended.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Well, as I believe I informed you in my reply to your most recent letter, I had a preliminary word with her parents,...
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[Interjecting.] Who promised to say nothing to their daughter?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Just so. ... And gave them to understand that you would meet their daughter here, incognito, under the pretext of giving her lessons.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Splendid! ... Now, pray, do tell me about Mlle Ormeville's character.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[Looking surprised and a shade embarrassed.] Her character?! ... Oh! You'll appreciate that I'm most reluctant to say anything about that, not wishing to prejudice matters one way or another. ... Let me see. ... She's pretty, for one thing; witty, ... But I'll ring for her so you can judge for yourself. [While ringing the bell.] Yes, she's pretty; an only daughter, who will have an income of 100,000 livres. Her father has been in high finance for some thirty years: so I don't need to tell you...
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[Interjectory aside.] Not one word about her character!
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Ssh! [As Sr. M. re-enters.] Sr. Mélanie, please inform Mlle Ormeville that her harpsichord mistress has arrived. ... Oh! And Sr. Sainte-Ange.
Sr. MÉLANIE.
Very good, Reverend Mother. [She exits.]
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
She too will be one of your pupils, Madame, since I think it best to continue her lessons. ... I gather you have already met our Sr. Sainte-Ange?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Yes; I felt concern for her.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
She's an angel, Madame; ingenuous, thoughtful, talented. ... She's a novice of our house and, dare I say, one who does us credit. She'll make profession in a couple of months' time, since I'll receive her without a dowry.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
That interests me with all the more reason, because I knew her father.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Yes?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
My late husband had been meaning to ask him for Mlle Sainte-Ange for my son — who had even decided to marry her, though he had seen her but once. ... Yet I only met her today. ... Then the father took it into his head to remarry; I lost my husband; my son's position became more brilliant, whereas that of Mlle Sainte-Ange became much less so.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Assuredly. [Sr. M. re-enters.]
Sr. MÉLANIE.
[Announcing.] Mlle Ormeville!
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Ah! Thank you, Sr. Mélanie. [To the marchioness.] Here is one of your pupils. [She stands up, assisted by Sr. M.]
SCENE 8. Marchioness de Saint-Ser, Mother Superior, Sr. Mélanie, Mlle Ormeville; three boarders, Mlle Eugénie, Mlle Sophie & Mlle Victoire, are observing proceedings from inside the cloister, by the grill door.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[Aside, testily.] It's only the music and drawing mistress! ...
Mlle VICTOIRE.
She's not her marchioness?
Mlle SOPHIE.
Not her marchioness?! Let's see! And listen! [She, E., and V. hide behind the seats of the interior visiting room.]
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[To the marchioness.] I'll leave you be; and return later to see if you're satis... [At this juncture, Sr. M. utters a fearful cry on seeing movement behind the seats.]
Sr. MÉLANIE.
Agh! ... Young ladies, you gave me a fright! ...
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[Calling to these three, who are scampering away.] Children, what business do you have coming here?! ...
Mlle EUGÉNIE.
[Venturing into the exterior visiting room with her two companions.] To pay our respects to our reverend mother. [These three kiss her hand in turn.]
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Yes, yes; [She smiles benevolently.] and, no doubt, a little curiosity?!
Mlle VICTOIRE.
That's true, Reverend Mother; just a little.
Mlle SOPHIE.
[Cheerfully.] Our reverend mother guesses all. ... We came to see this marchioness whom Mlle Ormeville had told us that she was expecting.
Mlle VICTOIRE.
It's the truth, Reverend Mother.
Mlle EUGÉNIE.
And, of course, to congratulate her.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Very well. ... But, remember, that matter is absolutely none of your concern. ... Now, let Mlle Ormeville take her lesson!
Mlle EUGÉNIE, Mlle SOPHIE & Mlle VICTOIRE.
[In near unison.] Yes, Reverend Mother. [Then, after having kissed the mother superior's hand again and curtsied, these three skip merrily back to the cloister while repeating gleefully: It's not her marchioness! ... The mother superior, supported by Sr. M., follows them in a sedate manner.]
SCENE 9. Marchioness de Saint-Ser, Mlle Ormeville; the latter seats herself in the chair vacated by the mother superior.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[After having tested the tuning of the harpsichord.] Well, Mademoiselle, would you like us to start? Although I must warn you that I certainly don't have Mme Henri's talent.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
No matter; you'll have more than enough for me. But, first [She proffers some coins.], take your fee; ... I don't care to take my lesson.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Oh? Perhaps you don't like the harpsichord?
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Nor music.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
That's to say, you prefer drawing?
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Of course! It's a much more entertaining pastime. Here's my sketch-book. [She shows same.]
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Splendid! Let's start...
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[Interjecting.] By not boring me! [She proffers some more coins.] Here's an additional fee, so that you talk no further about it.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Eh? But ...?
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Come on: take it! Didn't Mme Henri warn you that's my custom?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
She forgot to tell me.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
They are my conditions; and she has to subscribe to them, otherwise I would tell my father that she shows ill-will; and he, who knows little about accomplishments, but who pays well, would quickly give me another mistress. So, make of that what you will about Mme Henri!
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[Laughing gently.] Ah! Mademoiselle, I see that I shall have to take great care not to upset a pupil as valuable as you.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Of that you can be sure!
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Besides, those accomplishments are not absolutely necessary; and Mademoiselle undoubtedly compensates for them by more useful knowledge: geography, history, ... reading, for example?
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
They bore me to death! Ancient or modern history, with dates to rote learn and which are tiresome to retain? No! ... There's only dancing lessons that I care for.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[Laughing gently.] So, all in all, you don't attach a great deal of importance to accomplishments?
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Precious little, if the truth be told. ... And my mother and father think quite differently about them. She lectures me constantly, because she's all for accomplishments: whereas he says to me, 'Come on, daughter! Fear nothing; you will have fortune; a husband will be only too happy to have you.' ... Incidentally, regarding that, presumably you are well known in polite society?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Yes, to some degree through my pupils.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Well, apparently there's some talk of a marriage for me.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[Affecting a surprised manner.] A marriage?!
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[Excitedly.] Yes; it merely depends on my consent.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Ah! Splendid!
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Let's have a little chat together; that would be better than my lesson. [She stands up and goes to the door.] Wait while I see whether the reverend mother's door is firmly closed. [After affirming so, she returns to her seat.] Now, do you know the Marchioness de Saint-Ser?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Very well indeed! In fact, I have just this moment finished a portrait that she commissioned from me. And, moreover, she has recently taken it upon herself to obtain new pupils for me, including one of her nieces.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[Looking overjoyed.] Yes?! ... You are truly delightful! You will be able to tell me everything I want to know!
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Mmm? ... Speaking of which, you have just reminded me that I recently heard some talk about the marriage of her son.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[Joyfully and sharply.] Yes?! That must be about me. ... What type of woman is this marchioness?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
A woman ... of my age, ... who has only one son.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
I know that!
Mme de SAINT-SER.
He has eyes only for her; and she, for her part, is only concerned with his happiness.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[Very sharply.] Oh that! Of that I'm certain, because she wants to give him me as a wife, as I've just told you.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Ah! That's true!
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Yes, yes; ... but, tell me, is she a woman who is fond of life's extravagances, ... pleasures?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Well, she is a rather judicious woman, as far as I can tell; ... she attaches great importance to accomplishments, for example.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[In a distracted tone.] Yes?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Yes.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
And, ... would I have to live with her?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
What?! You doubt it? ... Yes, most definitely. A woman who loves her son would not wish to be parted from him; ... at least, so I believe.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[In the same distracted tone.] You believe so? [Then sharply.] Ah! A daughter-in-law, who has a mind like mine, moulds her husband as she sees fit. ... Besides, that there isn't my worry. ... The Marquis de Saint-Ser, is he as handsome as everyone says?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Very much so.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[Joyously.] Good; so much the better! And his character, since that's an essential point?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Indeed so! In that respect, we are like-minded. ... Well, he's gracious, good-natured, ... and most agreeable company.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[In a dreamy tone.] Ah! Imagine, what a pleasure! ... When I become a marchioness, I'll travel in a glittering carriage, and pay a visit here as a newly-wed: so as to flatter the petty pride of the nuns who brought me up; and, more particularly, to ask my companions — who currently amuse themselves at my expense — whether my marriage becomes me. ... But let's continue! So, the marquis is gracious, pleasant?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Yes; but with no great love of pomp and ceremony.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
What folly! ... Does he at least like dancing, or the vaudeville theatre?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
He goes there, but without being overly enamored.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Oh! Well, I want him to be enamored: because I know I will be! Moreover, I must make up for the boredom that I've had to suffer in this convent. Besides, given that I'm bringing him a rather considerable fortune, it behoves him to do everything that he can to please me. [Sound of footsteps off-stage.] Ah! I hear someone coming. Let's start my drawing lesson quickly! Now, here, for example, is a sketch of the shelter. [She shows her same, then, in a hushed voice.] It's most fortunate that I found you so well informed!
Mme de SAINT-SER.
And I assure you, Mademoiselle, that I'm truly grateful to be so.
SCENE 10. The Same, Sr. Radegonde: the latter, entering via the parlor door, holds a dressmaker's box.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Mademoiselle, here's your rose-colored finery that the good Antoine collected from the dressmakers.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[Testily to Sr. R., in receiving the box.] "Good"?! Hmph! He's a half-wit, like his son Claude. I'll give him a piece of my mind when I see him! [To the marchioness.] Just imagine, Madame, he was sent to fetch a pink dress — as blue doesn't suit me so well — and it has only just come! [She observes S.-A. arriving via the cloister door, as Sr. R. exits via the parlor with a shrug of her shoulders.]
SCENE 11. Marchioness de Saint-Ser, Mlle Ormeville, Sr. Sainte-Ange.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[Testily.] Ah! Sr. Sainte-Ange! My dress has been brought to me now. Now! What do you say about that? ... And with the Marchioness de Saint-Ser due to arrive at any moment!
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Registering great surprise.] What?! ... The Marchioness de Saint-Ser?
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[Impatiently.] Yes! The lady whom I'm expecting.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Aside.] Mercy me!
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[Sounding very flustered, and without looking at S.-A.] It's a most cruel turn of fate; ... I'll never have time; my chambermaid hasn't yet returned from my father's house! ... Anyhow, I'll go to my room; and if she returns, send her to me at once! ... But what if I don't have time to change my dress? ... Hmph! The dressmakers will be sorry; they'll have to wait a good long time before I pay them so much as a sou: I'll blame Antoine! [As she stands up, she addresses the marchioness.] Madame, I'm in a hurry, as you can imagine, so I must take my leave of you. Thank you for your lesson; Mme Henri never gave me one so agreeable.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Mademoiselle, all that I can wish for is that it was helpful to you. [Mlle O. exits via the parlor door.]
SCENE 12. Marchioness de Saint-Ser, Sr. Sainte-Ange; the latter seats herself in the chair vacated by Mlle O.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Her finery has a firm grip on her heart! Yet, if she knew the Marchioness de Saint-Ser as well as I do, she could have saved herself the trouble of a new dress: for ostentation is the thing to which her ladyship attaches least importance.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
So I gather Mlle Ormeville has put you in her confidence?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
It was almost the first thing she did; I am, now, as well informed as she on all her concerns about marriage.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
She knows you then?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Certainly not! [S.-A. makes a sign of surprise, which she conceals from the marchioness.] No, her apparent curiosity was a mere pretext to talk about her marriage.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Graciously and smiling kindly.] Ah! Quite forgivable, above all at her age, ... and in her position? A young lady loves to occupy herself — and others — in what gratifies her taste or self-esteem. Besides, Madame, certain individuals allow themselves to get carried away by their own accord?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[Smiling mischievously.] So, Sister, you would like me to be a shade curious? ... Well then, allow me one question: At the moment when you heard the name "Marchioness de Saint-Ser", you let slip a distinct gesture of surprise — or of sadness — which leads me to believe that perhaps you have some reason to complain about her?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
No; none at all. ... But how observant you are!
Mme de SAINT-SER.
It's that I have met her. ...
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
I too might have met her: but it was not to be. However, some seven years ago, I don't know by what chance, I had the occasion to find myself in the presence of her son.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Ah! You've seen him?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
Only once; and certainly with far too little time for me to remember the slightest idea of his features; though enough, nevertheless, to have noticed in him — as much one as can judge it in a young person — a gracious disposition, which justified in my mind the praises that I heard said about him: and which proves that fortune and merit are sometimes bound together. ... Be that as it may, my family's woes began shortly after my chance meeting with her son; and so, when that name was pronounced for the first time in this house, I was reminded of them, and I was not the master of my emotions. Indeed, my reaction was surely quite natural? ... I believe that's enough to convince you that I don't have the least reproach to make of the Marchioness de Saint-Ser.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[Smiling warmly.] I'm delighted on her behalf.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Moving with the marchioness to the harpsichord.] But now, Madame, let's take my lesson! You have made me forget that your time is precious.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
I assure you that I find it well spent.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
You're most gracious, but thoughts sometimes steal upon us despite ourselves. [She leafs through a book of music.] Let's see! [She smiles nervously.] I'm all atremble.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Do you sing too?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
A little [Laughing somewhat nervously.], as you'll be able to judge! I'll accompany myself. [She changes books.] What shall I sing? [She searches through this second book, with the marchioness looking over her shoulder.]
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Ah! This one?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
I wouldn't have chosen it: but so be it! [She sings.]
| Our pleasures are light, but they are without alarms: More vivid in the world, they are not without fears. I could believe, for a moment, they had more charms: But does a moment of hope have to cost so many tears? I merely sought a heart: whereas he sought fortune. So this was, with my need to soften such a reversal, Reason enough to banish my desire so inopportune, And to abandon myself to one that much more merciful. |
Mme de SAINT-SER.
You were a shade uncertain at the start, but settled down by the end. And I can tell you that you are an extremely good musician.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
Oh! "Extremely good"? That's going a bit far. ... Though, early in life, I did feel conscious of the need to cultivate my talents. ... Indeed, where would I be without them?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Those are sad thoughts: so let's change lesson! Let's see a few of your drawings?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
Gladly. [They sit down beside one another, then S.-A. shows her drawings.]
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Here's a landscape which is ... rather good! [She applies a pencil stroke to it.] The shadow there was a little too faint.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
You're right; a careless mistake! [She corrects a second, while gently laughing.] Now, this one?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[Examining same.] Very good! [Then on seeing a third.] My word, truly splendid!
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
Flattery, ... surely?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
No; I never flatter! You have great ability; I certainly wouldn't be able to do better.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
Oh! But compare them with the originals!
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[After doing so carefully.] I see very little difference between them; but as you'll doubtless agree, a copy always suffers in comparison with the original. Nevertheless, they have been copied nigh on perfectly. ...
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[In a discouraged tone.] Oh dear!
Mme de SAINT-SER.
No matter, Sister; believe you me, I'm well versed in such matters. I have great confidence in your talent, and you only seek models from within yourself. ... You are certainly in little need of lessons.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
But I always want to have several attempts at working out an idea: and yet I'm never able to succeed, as you'll readily see by my 'masterpieces' of portraiture. [She laughs in a nervous and self-deprecatory manner.]
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[Examining the first portrait passed by S.-A.] Let's see. ... [She registers great surprise.] This face is very good, already!
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[In a distracted tone.] You find so?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[Registering greater surprise and staring closely at S.-A.] Lifelike, even.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[In the same distracted tone.] Lifelike?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[Staring at S.-A. with even closer attention.] What?! ... This isn't a copy?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
No; certainly not. [She passes a second portrait.] But this one is better.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
You copied this one from the other?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
No; I swear to you. ... Here are the others. [She passes the other portraits in turn.] A pilgrim; ... a shepherd tending his flock; ...
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[After having examined same.] But, once again? ... Look carefully! [She presents the same portraits to S.-A. in such a manner that the latter is forced to compare them.] You must see like me that these are absolutely one and the same
person drawn with different clothing. [She smiles warmly.] And you hadn't realized it?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[In an astonished and innocent tone.] No; never! That only goes to prove to you that my imagination isn't fertile with new ideas.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[Looking through her own portfolio.] Don't speak ill of your ideas, otherwise you would be criticizing mine too.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Looking embarrassed.] How so?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Well, it's the most singular thing. A mother asked me for a portrait of her son; I'll show it to you. And, if I hadn't just this moment completed it with my own hands, one would believe that we both used the same model.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Looking confused.] Madame?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[Showing S.-A. this portrait, and moving closer to her.] Judge for yourself! ... This is the Marquis de Saint-Ser.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Looking astonished; and, in a state of confusion, promptly returns the portrait.] The Marquis de Saint-Ser? [Her tone is an admixture of confusion and distress.] Oh! Madame! ... [Then in a purposeful tone.] Madame, what a thick veil you have removed from my eyes! What would have become of me if this scene had any other witness than you? [In a distressed tone.] Doubtless, I would have been suspected of preserving in my heart emotions that I had never consciously felt. ... I would die of grief. [She becomes tearful.] Thus this heart — the purest perhaps, and certainly the most innocent, which does not admit happiness, and which had renounced the world forever — is not above suspicion! [Very brusquely and agitatedly.] Madame, I beg you, tear up these wretched recreations of my leisure moments! They testify against my first vows. ... Agh! Tear them up, I beg you, now!
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Let's reflect for a moment. ... ... Yes: leave them with me.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
Madame, you'll throw them on the fire? Yourself? I implore you.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Pray have every confidence in me; and be firmly convinced that your situation affects me greatly, ... to the point of regarding it as my own.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Kissing the marchioness's hand.] Everything worries me; I fear someone will come. [Aside.] If every day was like this one, time would be most cruel!
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[Aside.] How charming she is! ... And such a blessing would escape my son? ...
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
Madame, would you be so kind as to give me an interpretation of those unhappy memories — quite involuntary ones, I assure you — however humiliating it will be for me?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Mademoiselle, listen to me! ... I'm the best and surest friend of the Marchioness de Saint-Ser. Her projects for marriage alone brought me here. Now, if this mother, to whom I can
hide nothing,... [S.-A. gestures her to stop.] Listen to me, please! If this mother, to whom her son often speaks about you, and always with regret,... [S.-A. again gestures her to stop.] were to be enlightened as to your misfortunes and to your feelings, she would ask you herself on his behalf. ...
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
Ah! Madame, how your good heart unwittingly deceives you! [In deeply respectful tones.] Forgive me, but all that is mere supposition. Don't you realize that, by anyone other than you, I wouldn't have been disturbed by such reasoning; and that subjected by gratitude to the wishes of our worthy reverend mother, it must never be in my heart to leave this honorable asylum — which threw open its doors in my hour of need — otherwise it would set a dangerous example...
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[Interjecting.] Of an ill-fated person? ... Who better to condemn a life of confusion and pain, and admit the feelings within her?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
Ah! Here comes the reverend mother; I tremble. ... Please do nothing which might compromise me? ... Take care, I beg you!
SCENE 13. The Same, Mother Superior: as soon as the latter enters, a trembling S.-A. stands up and kisses her hand.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Well, Madame, are you satisfied with your pupils?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
My answer would embarrass me less if it were a question only of the good sister here. [Pointing to S.-A., who wants to leave and to whom the mother superior gestures to remain.]
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
How so?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
From the outset, I thought it necessary to inform each young lady that I had come here to pursue the interests of the Marchioness de Saint-Ser. ... Now, Reverend Mother, Mlle Ormeville is wholly unsuitable for the marquis. ... My word, what a present to give him! You presumably didn't know her character?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Oh! But surely you are worrying yourself unnecessarily? ... True, she is overly excitable, a little thoughtless: ... her age excuses those foibles? ... But such a great fortune?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[Sharply.] Which would be paid for too dearly! ... Now, given that I know how the marchioness thinks, I am justified in releasing her from her promise: and from this very moment.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Ah, Madame! ... What embarrassment that will cause me; not to say compromise me. ... Agh! This situation will cause me grief.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[Emotionally.] And, ... I fear that I must add to it!
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
What do you mean? ... Oh! How moved you are!
Mme de SAINT-SER.
It's the surprise that Sr. Sainte-Ange has just caused me.
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Imploringly.] Madame?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
No, Mademoiselle. ... When I have just discovered feelings, rekindled in you, which you have kept without realizing so, can I — in all conscience — refrain from enlightening your benefactress, or you, about the disastrous consequences that threaten to befall you both?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[To the marchioness.] You surprise and alarm me at one and the same time! [In a concerned tone to S.-A.] My dear child. [To the marchioness.] But what has escaped my notice, Madame?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Interjecting.] Reverend Mother, be assured that these memories have never occupied my attention; be so good as to believe that time and reason...
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[Interjecting.] Have misled you! [Then in a very gentle tone, as she places a hand on the portfolio.] I have the surest proof of it. ... Do you want the reverend mother to judge us?
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[In a very agitated tone.] No, Madame! [Aside.] I know not what I want nor what I feel.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
You refuse me as a judge? Me, my child? That enlightens me: and admits your guilt! ... And this state of agitation, which I have never seen in you before, is enough to reveal your true feelings.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Which were only dormant in your heart: but with what ease they awoke at the mere mention of my son's name!
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Collapsing into an armchair.] Your son?! ... Mercy me!
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
My dear child, these feelings, which you seek to conceal from yourself, presage a dreadful future. [To the marchioness.] Madame, how grateful I am that you have enlightened us both! My word, what would have become of her if her final vows had assured an irrevocable commitment to this house?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Ah! I see you are imbued with concerns for her welfare.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Her peace of mind, mine — my very duty, Madame — everything demands it. [To S.-A.] However painful your loss is for me — and it is beyond measure, my child — [In tones of the greatest sadness.] I give you your freedom. ...
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
[Tearfully.] You distress me greatly, Reverend Mother. ... [Then in a resolute tone to the marchioness.] Madame, I will now be able to replace the debt I owed my dearest benefactress with new consolations to my ill-fated stepmother, whom my father so ardently cherished.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
How honorable you are, Mademoiselle: but be so good as to use your freedom — not to shed solace on just one mother — but to put another's mind at rest; one who, having rekindled in you the idea of her son, can assure you of both his feelings and his future happiness by asking on his behalf whether you will accept him as a husband!
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
What?! ... Madame, have I disrupted the plans that you had for Mlle Ormeville? [Sisters Aimée and Mélanie, passing from the apartment to the cloister, overhear.]
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
No. In the first place, the Marchioness de Saint-Ser, as you have just heard her say, released her from her promise. [Sisters A. and M. register their astonishment and joy, then run to the cloister.]
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Before asking you for yours!
Sr. SAINTE-ANGE.
So, Madame, may I call you Mother?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
Yes; since you prove how much that title is dear to you. [S.-A. kisses her hand.] Ah! I'm overjoyed! [S.-A. curtsies to the mother superior and Mme de S.-S., then exits via the parlor door.]
SCENE 14. Mother Superior, Marchioness de Saint-Ser: initially Mlle Eugénie, Mlle Sophie & Mlle Victoire are observing proceedings from inside the cloister, by the grill door, as Mlle Ormeville, wearing a pink long-sleeved silk dress, arrives.
Mlle SOPHIE.
[To Mlle O.] Have you just been told that the marchioness is here?
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
Yes. Is it really true?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[Apprehensively.] It's Mlle Ormeville!
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[To the mother superior, who wishes to prevent Mlle O. from entering.] Let her enter! I can speak to her without offending either her sensibilities or ours.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[Speaking to E., S. and V.] Good! At least my new dress will serve me for something. Now, since you're here, come with me! [Leading these three in and then promptly ignoring them on seeing the marchioness, to whom she waves in a casual manner.] Ah! Hello again, Madame. [Then she addresses the mother superior.] Reverend Mother, these young ladies assure me that the Marchioness de Saint-Ser has arrived. I very much doubt it, for she would have surely called for me.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
They didn't mislead you, Mademoiselle.
Mlle VICTOIRE.
[Aside.] It would be most amusing if it were true.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
You see her in this mistress. ...
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
To whom I spoke with such frankness?
Mlle SOPHIE.
[Whispering in Mlle O.'s ear.] And who gave you lessons that you found so agreeable!
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
What?! ... Marchioness de Saint-Ser? [Aside, in an anguished tone.] Agh! ... What have I done?
Mlle VICTOIRE.
In truth, I suspected as much.
Mlle EUGÉNIE.
Me too!
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[To E., S. and V.] If I may?! ...
Mlle EUGÉNIE, Mlle SOPHIE & Mlle VICTOIRE.
[In near unison, as each makes a respectful curtsy.] My apologies, Madame.
Mme de SAINT-SER.
[To Mlle O.] Mademoiselle, when I considered giving you my son's hand in marriage, I was completely unaware that he himself has given his heart to another: much less knew that the object of his affections reciprocated his feelings. ... I expect to see your lady mother later today.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
To tell her about our conversation, presumably?
Mme de SAINT-SER.
No; [Smiling wryly.] at least not in all its details. Merely to beg her to accept the apologies which I owe to both of you. [In a gentler tone.] Now, Mademoiselle, I do hope my visit was not entirely without value for you. Please allow me to tell you that when one combines — in such an interesting and lively character — all the wit that you possess, ... well, to be honest, [In the most lenient and gentlest tone.] one must regret that you haven't better made use of it, since this would leave nothing to be desired in you.
Mlle ORMEVILLE.
[Curtsying to her in an embarrassed manner.] Thank you, Madame; I understand what that means. [To E., S. and V. as she is leaving.] So, there we are: I'm to remain in the convent! [She exits via the cloister door.]
Mlle VICTOIRE.
[Joyfully to E. and S.] Well, I told you that her marriage was not to be!
Mlle EUGÉNIE & Mlle SOPHIE.
[In near unison.] Just as I thought! [E., S. and V. start to leave.]
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Children! [E., S. and V. pause.] Be sure to make the most of this lesson. ... And be firmly persuaded that, in the eyes of judicious persons, character and education override even fortune.
Mlle EUGÉNIE, Mlle SOPHIE & Mlle VICTOIRE.
[In near unison.] Much obliged, Reverend Mother! [They skip away merrily. ... Curtain falls. ... Curtain Music: ad libitum.]
ACT 2.
[Costumes: Mother Superior, Sisters Aimée, Mélanie & Radegonde, Marchioness de Saint-Ser, Boarders, as for Act 1; Sisters Eugénie & Sophie, conventual dress, save Scene 2 (see below); Mlle Cécile & Mlle Julie, white dress; Antoine & Claude, breeches and white shirt; Fr. Bottin & Dr. Platon, as for the Prologue.]
Curtain rises, to reveal the mother superior in her sitting room, furnished as in Act 1; she is seated and resting.
SCENE 1. Mother Superior, Fr. Bottin: the latter knocks on the door.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Come in, please. [Fr. B. enters.]
Fr. BOTTIN.
Good morning, Reverend Mother.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Ah! Good morning, Fr. Bottin. [She stands up and kisses Fr. B.'s hand.]
Fr. BOTTIN.
Shall we sit down?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Yes, Father. [They do so.]
Fr. BOTTIN.
As you know, Reverend Mother, the Dowager Marchioness de Saint-Ser has been keeping me informed of the swiftly moving events in Paris; and, in particular, the various decrees issued by the Constituent Assembly. [Mother superior nods.] Well, her ladyship has it on good authority that this body will soon issue a decree suppressing the religious orders and conventual vows, ... perhaps as early as the 13th of this month.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[Adopting an admixed expression of shock and mortification.] Oh, Father! ... That will surely be the death knell of our little community and the hospice.
Fr. BOTTIN.
Please, Reverend Mother, calm your fears. ... Dr. Platon and I have been contingency planning for several months, and, as a consequence, we believe that your community should survive, though not necessarily flourish, if sensible and pragmatic measures are enacted. [Mother superior adopts an admixed expression of relief and doubt.] Now, during the course of my last visit, you informed me that two postulants were sufficiently prepared to enter the noviciate.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Yes, Father. I believe that Mlle Eugénie and Mlle Sophie are fully prepared to take their first vows.
Fr. BOTTIN.
Yes?! How splendid, Reverend Mother. ... So, may I ask you to finalize their and your preparations for the investiture service?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Yes, Father. ... Whom do you have in mind as godmothers and witnesses?
Fr. BOTTIN.
Given that age-old religious and secular customs are presently in a continuous state of flux, we must temper our hitherto fidelity to the statutes with pragmatism. Accordingly, I am of the opinion that both rôles should be fulfilled by Mme Marchioness and Sr. Radegonde. Should you agree, Reverend Mother, her ladyship will travel incognito from Paris on your designated day of the service.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Yes, Father; I agree with all my heart. ... May I suggest next Wednesday, the 10th of February?
Fr. BOTTIN.
For any particular reason?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Yes, Father. Sainte Scholastica's Day has a special resonance here at the convent.
Fr. BOTTIN.
Indeed it does! [Smiling appreciatively.] A most felicitous suggestion, Reverend Mother. ... Following the service, her ladyship will rejoin her son and daughter-in-law, the Marquis and the former Sr. Sainte-Ange, who have temporarily migrated to Italy. ... And, we — that's to say, you, I, and Dr. Platon — will discuss the implementation of the necessary measures which should allow your community and the hospice to survive in the foreseeable future, stormy and uncertain as it will undoubtedly be. ...
[Curtain falls. ... Curtain music: obligato, extracts from Michel Corrette's Organ Magnificat en mi [...] très utile aux Dames religieuses, 1787.]
Curtain rises, to reveal the Convent's chapel: upstage, a dressed altar in the sanctuary; slightly further downstage right and left, 2 benches outside the sanctuary; center stage, 8 hard-backed chairs distributed equally either side of an aisle; downstage left, plain door; downstage right, grilled door.
SCENE 2. Fr. Bottin [celebrant], standing in front of the altar, Mme Marchioness de Saint-Ser [godmother], Antoine, Dr. Platon & Claude, all seated stage right, Sr. Radegonde [godmother], Sr. Mélanie, Sr. Aimée & Reverend Mother Iphigénie, all seated stage left, small choir of boarders, all standing in front of the benches, Mlle Eugénie & Mlle Sophie [postulants], Mlle Cécile & Mlle Julie [angels], all initially off-stage behind the door downstage left.
[The two godmothers rise, bow to the altar, then move down the aisle towards the door stage left. Two abreast, Mlle Eugénie and Mlle Sophie, each wearing a white silk dress and a long white veil crowned with white roses, and each holding an unlit candle with both hands, enter from this door, followed by Mlle Cécile and Mlle Julie, each holding a flower-garlanded basket containing the novice's robe. With the two postulants between the two godmothers, and the two angels close behind, the group walks slowly towards the celebrant as the choir sings.]
CHOIR.
[Intoning in unison.] Quae est ista quae ascendit de deserto, deliciis affluens? ... Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! [Subtitles (above the stage). Who is she that cometh up from the desert, flowing with delights? ... Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!] ...
[Each postulant hands her unlit candle to the celebrant Fr. Bottin, who places it on the alter; then she kneels down at his feet.]
Fr. BOTTIN.
[Intoning.] Kyrie eleison. Christe eleison. Kyrie eleison. [Subtitles. Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy.] ... ... Gloria in excelsis Deo, et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis. Laudamus te, benedicimus te, adoramus te, glorificamus te. Gratias agimus tibi propter magnam gloriam tuam. Domine Deus rex coelestis, Deus Pater omnipotens. Domine Fili unigenite, Jesu Christe, altissime. Domine Deus, Agnus Dei,
Filius Patris. Qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis. Qui tollis peccata mundi, suscipe deprecationem nostram. Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris, miserere nobis. Quoniam tu solus sanctus, tu solus Dominus, tu solus Altissimus, Jesu Christe. Cum Sancto Spiritu in gloria Dei Patris. [Subtitles. Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men of goodwill. We praise Thee; we bless Thee; we worship Thee; we glorify Thee; we give Thee thanks for Thy great glory. O Lord God, Heavenly King, God the Father Almighty, O Lord the only Son, Christ Jesus; most high. O Lord God, Lamb of God, Son of the Father. Who taketh away the sins of the world, have mercy on us. Who taketh away the sins of the world, receive our prayer. Who sits at the right hand of the Father, have mercy on us. For Thou alone art holy; Thou alone art the Lord; Thou alone art most high, O Christ Jesus, with the Holy Spirit in the glory of God the Father.]
ALL.
Amen.
[As the celebrant raises the bread and wine, each postulant stands up and then kneels down before him again; he lights each candle, before applying his hands on each postulant.]
CHOIR.
[Intoning in unison.] Veni, Creator Spiritus, mentes tuorum visita, imple superna gratia quae tu creasti pectora. [Subtitles. Come, Holy Spirit, Creator blest, and in our souls take up Thy rest; come with Thy grace and heavenly aid to fill the hearts which Thou hast made.] ... Qui diceris Paraclitus, altissimi donum Dei, fons vivus, ignis, caritas, et spiritalis unctio. [Subtitles. O comforter, to Thee we cry, O heavenly gift of God Most High, O fount of life and fire of love, and sweet anointing from above.] ... Tu, septiformis munere, digitus paternae dexterae, Tu rite promissum Patris, sermone ditans guttura. [Subtitles. Thou in Thy sevenfold gifts are known; Thou, finger of God's hand we own; Thou, promise of the Father, Thou who dost the tongue with power imbue.] ... Accende lumen sensibus: infunde amorem cordibus: infirma nostri corporis virtute firmans perpeti. [Subtitles. Kindle our sense from above, and make our hearts overflow with love; with patience firm and virtue high the weakness of our flesh supply.] ... Per te sciamus da Patrem, noscamus atque Filium; Teque utriusque Spiritum credamus omni tempore. [Subtitles. May Thy grace on us bestow the Father and the Son to know; and Thee, through endless times confessed, of both the eternal Spirit blest.] ... Deo Patri sit gloria, et Filio, qui a mortuis surrexit, ac Paraclito, in saeculorum saecula. [Subtitles. Now to the Father and the Son, Who rose from death, be glory given, with Thou, O Holy Comforter, henceforth by all in earth and heaven.]
ALL.
Amen.
[While the celebrant blesses each novice's robe, the godmothers move to their seats and the mother superior takes their place. Then the postulants and angels walk slowly towards the grilled door stage right. Shortly thereafter, each novice, wearing a plain white shift, reappears, prostrates herself in the aisle opposite the choir, rises, and kneels before the mother superior. Then, while the latter cuts some hair from each novice, in the form of a cross, the celebrant invokes.]
Fr. BOTTIN.
May the Lord divest you of your former self, and guide you in all your actions.
[Then, while the mother superior dresses each postulant in a sleeveless rochet and a long white veil to which she attaches a white lily, the celebrant invokes.]
Fr. BOTTIN.
May the Lord dress you in your new self, and guide you in the justice and the sanctity of truth.
[The mother superior moves to her seat. Then, in alternation, the newly-invested novices and the choir declaim in unison; while the latter are doing so, the former are prostrate.]
Sr. SOPHIE & Sr. EUGÉNIE.
Kingdom of the world, wretched in the pomp and vanities of a wretched age, I scorn you! ... Christ Jesus, Thou art my king, my master, my treasure, my crown, and my only love. I have seen Thee, loved Thee, and believed in Thee: and henceforth my heart belongs to Thee alone.
CHOIR.
Christ Jesus, we see Thee, we love Thee, and we believe in Thee. ... Alleluia!
Sr. SOPHIE & Sr. EUGÉNIE.
Now sweet thoughts overflow from my heart: and henceforth I shall dedicate all my labors to Thee alone.
CHOIR.
Christ Jesus, we see Thee, we love Thee, and we believe in Thee. ... Alleluia!
Sr. SOPHIE & Sr. EUGÉNIE.
Glory to the Father, to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit.
CHOIR.
Christ Jesus, we see Thee, we love Thee, and we believe in Thee. ... Alleluia!
ALL.
Amen.
[The two novices rise, as does the entire congregation. Then the mother superior leads both of her newly-invested novices down the aisle opposite the choir. ... Curtain falls. ... Curtain music: obligato, extracts from Michel Corrette's Organ Magnificat en mi [...] très utile aux Dames religieuses, 1787.]
ACT 3.
[Costumes: Mother Superior, Sisters Aimée, Eugénie, Mélanie, Radegonde & Sophie, Boarders, pale-colored long skirts and long-sleeved blouses of indifferent quality material with evidence of mending; Antoine & Claude, as for Act 1, save evidence of mending; Fr. Leveneur, frock coat, breeches and shirt of indifferent quality material; Armand, well-kempt officer's uniform; François, ill-kempt soldier's uniform; Durand, sober-colored frock coat, breeches, shirt, stockings, gloves and hat of good quality material; Calmel, slightly ostentatious, gaily-colored frock coat, breeches, shirt, stockings, gloves and hat of high quality material, dress cane.]
Curtain rises, to reveal the convent's grand parlor: upstage, windowed doors with a view of the garden; stage left, a door, leading to the mother superior's sitting-room; stage right, a large front door. The parlor is furnished with several chairs, a table, and a vase of fresh flowers.
SCENE 1. Sr. Radegonde, Mlle Cécile, Mlle Julie, Mlle Victoire, several other boarders: a sleeping Sr. Radegonde wakes up; the boarders, who have been amusing themselves in various parts of the room, return to their seats.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[Yawning and gathering up her knitting.] Well, well! ... Young ladies?! What's all this racket for? ... You took advantage of my nap to neglect your duties?! To work — and very quickly too! — if you don't want the reverend mother to be informed. ... What's that? Mlle Julie thinks I didn't see her talking with her friends! ... And you, Mlle Cécile, you've been whiling away the time doing nothing: instead of having your eyes on your needlework.
Mlle JULIE.
Sr. Radegonde, please do come and look at my embroidery; I think you'll be satisfied with it.
Mlle CÉCILE.
[And two others, in near unison.] And me, Sister?
Mlle VICTOIRE.
You won't forget me, will you, Sister?
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Quiet! One moment, ... one moment! That's just like you; always extreme in everything.
BOARDERS.
[In near unison.] But, Sister? ...
Sr. RADEGONDE.
You would do well to speak one after another, if you want me to understand you, or — failing that — I'll leave you be; I can no longer keep control. ... Oh dear! Nothing is so tiring as raising young people; not a moment's rest: as an honor, it is but torment.
BOARDERS.
[In near unison.] But, Sister? ...
Sr. RADEGONDE.
No, young ladies, I don't have time now; I'll look at it later this afternoon. [The door stage left opens.] Besides, here comes our good reverend mother; and not a moment too soon! ... Come on: everyone resume their work! ... Mlle Victoire, faster than that, please; my word, you're always the last to obey!
SCENE 2. The Same, Mother Superior, Sr. Aimée, Sr. Eugénie, Sr. Mélanie, Sr. Sophie: all the boarders stand up as the mother superior enters via the door stage left, followed by the four sisters.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Good afternoon, children. May peace and happiness be with you always.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Amen! ... Reverend Mother, I don't what sprite has taken over these young ladies today: but I can do nothing with them. They prattle, they chatter constantly, ... they are unruly! May the good Lord forgive me, but I do believe the Tempter has entered here for some purpose.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Children, why do I still have to hear such complaints about you? Do you find the work so unpleasant that you cannot do it with exactitude? Ah! My children, one day you will know how great is the happiness enjoyed by a hard-working woman. Each of you is destined to become a mother: and, if you acquire the habits of industry and diligent care early in life, none of the difficulties of the household will be burdensome. ... May Heaven allow this reprimand touch your heart and correct your thoughtlessness.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Alas, Heaven no longer performs miracles; I see it clearly.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Eh?! Sr. Radegonde, how dare you say that Heaven no longer performs miracles: whereas I recognize them every day in all His works. ... Sister, in the midst of France, we have maintained our existence throughout these stormy times: is that not truly miraculous?! The good Lord, by preserving our haven from pillage and crime, has allowed us to enjoy a tranquil existence. ... Ah, yes! Let us recognize His good deeds.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[Humbly.] You're absolutely right; I recognize my error.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
That's good, Sister; she who openly admits her fault is far from wanting to commit a second. [To Sr. Aimée & Sr. Mélanie.] Now, Sisters, I'm all yours.
Sr. MÉLANIE.
Here's the accounts' ledger, Reverend Mother. [Pointing to same.] There's nothing unusual this week; everything in the house is in good repair.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[Smiling warmly.] Thank you Sr. Mélanie. ... Now, Sr. Aimée, tell me please what is happening in the shelter.
Sr. AIMÉE.
Well, Reverend Mother, two of the four beds remain occupied; the traveller wanted to continue his journey this morning.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Eh?! Could he do so without danger?
Sr. AIMÉE.
We wanted to point this out to him; but he was so brusque and uncouth, that we hardly dared speak to him.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
A poor soul, Sr. Aimée. No matter to whom we render service, the ingrate or the grateful, each has an equal right to our humanity; and we should find the reward of our actions only in our hearts. ... Such was the intention of the shelter's foundress, the Dowager Marchioness de Saint-Ser.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
But, nowadays, there are no more foundations and everything is at our expense. We could...
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[Interjecting.] What?! ... Sister?
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Reverend Mother, as I've already told you, and I'll repeat it once more, your shelter, however laudable its intention, will bring us sorrow one day.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
How so?
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Nothing simpler! During their journeys, these travellers — whom you receive and who are so well treated — doubtless spread the word that they stayed at Sainte Magdalene's Convent. ... What, a convent still extant?! Indeed so! ... And soon, the envious and the downright malicious will denounce you.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Sr. Radegonde, banish all fears; the times of hatred have passed. They wouldn't dare to disturb virtue, because they wouldn't be listened to any more: and if by chance — which thanks to Heaven we do not have to fear — they succeeded in betraying the good faith of those who govern us, I believe that all the odium would land on the slanderers. It is true that we have owed our existence throughout these unfortunate
times entirely to a continuing oversight. But, even so, what would they have to reproach us?
Sr. RADEGONDE.
That we are still living in community; since, aside from not wearing our habits and not observing the strictness of the cloister, we practise — just as in the past — our holy
exercises.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
True, Sister. But they would also say that, though free to disperse, we have remained joined together only so as to serve society; and that our behavior attests it every day. ... If we keep our vows to Heaven, it's for the happiness of France. The hapless and the wretched find assistance in our house, and we teach these children nothing but perfectly respectable morals. Therefore, they will readily see that we exist only to help our fellow man.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
I don't know how it's done, but you always put my fears to rest.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
That's because you don't have enough confidence in virtue. ... Let's continue. So, Sr. Aimée, you were saying that two beds are still occupied?
Sr. AIMÉE.
Yes, by those two soldiers; but as their recovery is well advanced, they will be in a position to resume their journey within a few days.
Sr. SOPHIE.
Ah! Those two: they are most respectable!
Sr. EUGÉNIE.
Yet there's one who is very insouciant.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
He's that brave François!
Sr. SOPHIE.
Yes, that's true. But the young officer, how pleasant and polite he is. [Aside, in a dreamy manner.] May his convalescence go on forever! ...
Sr. AIMÉE.
That was the only change about which I needed to inform you, Reverend Mother. Moreover, the pharmacy is in good order; Fr. Leveneur has visited it, and he will tell you that I should fear no reproach for negligence.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Sr. Aimée, I have no doubts whatsoever about your care and attention; indeed [She smiles benevolently.], we couldn't have the running of the shelter in better hands.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[Observing Fr. L. in the garden.] Ah! Here comes our dear Fr. Leveneur!
SCENE 3. The Same, Fr. Leveneur: the latter enters via the doors to the garden.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Yes, indeed; it's lesson time! Young ladies, I advise you to pay close attention. Please continue to take advantage of what this gentleman requires; by teaching several of his accomplishments, he avoids us the great inconvenience of introducing strangers into the house. [To Fr. L.] Tell me, Reverend Father, were you out walking?
Fr. LEVENEUR.
Yes; I didn't want to disturb your discussions, so I waited to begin my lesson.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Well, we're going now, so you can have our place.
Fr. LEVENEUR.
While I was walking in the garden, I couldn't refrain from thinking about the vagaries of life; me, the director of this house, ... and teaching such a variety of subjects.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[Sharply.] Will you soon grow weary of so much effort on our behalf?
Fr. LEVENEUR.
No, Reverend Mother; no. But I said to myself, if someone was informed about our community, he would never believe it.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Reverend Father, how do you know all that you teach?
Fr. LEVENEUR.
Sister, a good education is never wasted. My father did not neglect mine, and I thank him for it every day. It is the only possession which he left me, and I have sometimes been well founded by it.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
You have endured many tribulations, then?
Fr. LEVENEUR.
Most certainly; and often as a result of my own missteps. As a young man, I had a carefree nature and wanted to travel. And to do this comfortably I began to demonstrate dance. I especially liked change, so I moved somewhere else to teach law, natural philosophy, music, ... etcetera.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
But, surely, such a man is never content?
Fr. LEVENEUR.
Just so! ... Well, I eventually decided to cast aside the errors of the world, draw upon the resources of my education, and resolved to dedicate myself to divine service: and so, with Dr. Platon's approval and Fr. Bottin's blessing, I came here to serve this house.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Clearly, you must have possessed sufficient common sense to leave such a turbulent and dissipated life; albeit a most attractive one! And, as such, your decision speaks volumes about your character: so I warmly congratulate you. [To the boarders.] Children, I invite you once again to take full advantage of Fr. Leveneur's lessons. [She exits via the door stage left, followed by Sisters A., E., M. and S.]
SCENE 4. Fr. Leveneur, Sr. Radegonde, Mlle Cécile, Mlle Julie, Mlle Victoire, several other boarders.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Now, young ladies — Cécile, Julie, and Victoire — please come here. [She points to a position near Fr. L., then sits down and resumes her knitting.]
Fr. LEVENEUR.
Mlle Victoire, sit down at the harpsichord. You, Mlle Cécile, take your music, you will sing. And Mlle Julie will execute the steps which I modified and which we rehearsed yesterday. Start, please: and, above all, remember to pay the closest attention to precision.
CÉCILE. [Singing, while Victoire accompanies and Julie dances.]
| Gentle youth, if thou while away the moments, Time, which doth escape and ne'er return, Will leave thee with the bitterest regrets; And thy heart will be prostrate With worry, sorrow, pain, and tears. But timely practice doth make study a habit, And will bring forth happiness in thy heart. |
Fr. LEVENEUR.
Very good, children, very good! Nevertheless, Cécile lacked expression. Furthermore, young ladies, you must conceal the effort that your study costs, so as to reveal only the charm of execution. ...
Sr. RADEGONDE.
What surprises me most is the meeting of these three arts.
Fr. LEVENEUR.
It's the true tableau of life to be happy in company; it would most desirable if everyone willingly brought along his portion of talent, humanity and, above all, goodwill: but, alas, the egoist denies himself.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Do you understand, young ladies, do you understand?! Ah! That's well thought out. ... But what's the remedy?
Fr. LEVENEUR.
Time and hope.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Hope! Hope! [Waspishly.] Man will always be malicious!
Fr. LEVENEUR.
That's as maybe. But hope is our constant support; even while dying, one still hopes: it's the only blessing found amongst the evils in Pandora's box. So let's hope that human beings, guided by sincere virtues, will recognize the source of our well-being by drawing closer together. [The sound of a clock striking 3 o'clock is heard. The boarders stop their work and go to embrace Fr. L. and Sr. R.; then they move towards the doors to enter the garden.]
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Young ladies! One moment, please! The reverend mother has expressly forbidden you to go in the garden.
SCENE 5. The Same, Mother Superior, Sr. Sophie, Sr. Eugénie: the latter three re-enter via the door stage left.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Yes, children, I forbade you to do so. [Everyone retraces their steps.] It is undoubtedly only fair that, after the time allocated to work, you engage in recreation. But I'm forced to make an admission which, though painful to me, is necessary nonetheless: ... Antoine complained to me this morning that, for the past couple of days, the fruit has disappeared in an altogether obvious manner.
BOARDERS.
[In near unison.] It's not me, Reverend Mother!
Sr. RADEGONDE.
We know full well that it's no one person! But there's no going back over the ruling: so speak no more about it!
Mlle JULIE.
Reverend Father, please speak on our behalf.
Mlle CÉCILE.
Yes, Reverend Father; ... we'll be sensible and touch nothing.
Fr. LEVENEUR.
[To the mother superior.] When one is at a youthful age, one lacks experience: so perhaps one can't always avoid the dangers into which a trifle may lead us?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[Sententiously.] Hmph! The source of misfortunes is often the fruit of our imprudence, and we often shed tears for such trifles. ... [Benevolently.] But out of consideration to your good self, I'm more than willing to be lenient this one time.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Well, young ladies, in that case, leave: but do remember our reverend mother's kindness!
BOARDERS.
[In near unison.] We won't forget! [They exit via the doors leading to the garden.]
SCENE 6. The Same, except the boarders.
Fr. LEVENEUR.
[To the mother superior.] I like to see them indulging in the joys and pleasures of their age.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
I too take delight in these children, and I do thank you for having anticipated my thoughts, by asking me for a favor on their behalf; it was already in my heart: but I must appear strict in order to keep them within fair bounds.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
And, above all, to cure them of the greed which prompts them to steal. Steal! ... Mercy me, that's truly dreadful!
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[Smiling.] Sr. Radegonde always has such grand words for little things. ... Yet she forgets that she loses sight of her charges!
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Ah! So I have! [She mutters as she exits via the doors to the garden.] Saint John tells us that contrition removes every sin: but how do I prevent myself from committing errors? [While the mother superior and Fr. L. watch Sr. R. exit, Sophie gestures to Eugénie to move towards the apron.]
Sr. SOPHIE.
Eugénie, I thought we should move out of the reverend mother's hearing, because I have something very important to tell you.
Sr. EUGÉNIE.
I suspected as much, Sophie, since I noticed Armand near the cloister.
Sr. SOPHIE.
Ssh! ...
Fr. LEVENEUR.
[To the mother superior.] The hour of prayer will soon be upon us: so perhaps we should go and prepare?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Yes, Reverend Father, I agree. [She and Fr. L. exit via the door stage left .]
SCENE 7. Sr. Sophie, Sr. Eugénie.
Sr. SOPHIE.
You didn't tell me that you'd seen Armand near the cloister.
Sr. EUGÉNIE.
Yes; no doubt he was looking for you.
Sr. SOPHIE.
His thoughtlessness will be our downfall; always close on my heels!
Sr. EUGÉNIE.
Do take care; you should forbid him. ... But, tell me, what is your hope by listening to him?
Sr. SOPHIE.
Well, my dear Eugénie, I have realized that I have no great liking for the unmarried state — it appears to be contrary to the laws of nature — and, therefore, I have no vocation to remain in the convent and make my profession.
Sr. EUGÉNIE.
All that you say holds true for me too.
Sr. SOPHIE.
How so?
Sr. EUGÉNIE.
Ah! That there is my secret. But I very much hope that one day I too will get married. ... What a blissful thought!
Sr. SOPHIE.
You've said nothing of this to me; you're very secretive!
Sr. EUGÉNIE.
No; merely that we're more discreet. ... But let's return to you. What do you intend to do?
Sr. SOPHIE.
I don't know yet. Armand is going to inform me today of the steps that he wants to take by telling everything to his uncle, who loves him a great deal.
Sr. EUGÉNIE.
Look, here he comes! ... My word, doesn't he look handsome?!
Sr. SOPHIE.
[With satisfaction.] Doesn't he just! ... Now, my good friend, please leave me alone with Armand; I want to take advantage of the little time that we have to talk together, as well as advise him to be more circumspect.
Sr. EUGÉNIE.
[Pointedly.] Start by being so yourself! [She exits via the doors to the garden.]
SCENE 8. Sr. Sophie, Armand: the latter enters via the front door.
ARMAND.
Ah! At last, my dear Sophie, I have the good fortune to find myself alone with you for a moment. Do you appreciate how much it pains me to see and hear you, without being able to talk to you?
Sr. SOPHIE.
Alas, I'm only too well aware that I share your pain; but reason demands that we remain circumspect. ... Consider my position, if we were discovered?
ARMAND.
I have been conscious of it like yourself, and that's what decided me to write you this note.
[He presents same to her.] Take it, please; it will inform you of who I am and what is my solution.
Sr. SOPHIE.
[Trembling slightly as she takes the note.] I'm afraid of being seen!
SCENE 9. The Same, Sr. Radegonde: the latter enters precipitously via the doors to the garden.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Ah! Caught you!
Sr. SOPHIE & ARMAND.
[In near unison.] Mercy me! ...
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[Moving rapidly across the stage.] Give, ... Mademoiselle, give me that note!
Sr. SOPHIE.
What note?
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Do you intend to deny me the one that you've just accepted?! ... But, the Lord be thanked, I still have good eyes. ... So, give me that note! ... Give, give, I tell you.
Sr. SOPHIE.
[Firmly.] No, Sr. Radegonde, you will not have it.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
I will not have it?! ... I will not have it?! ... Agh! That's dreadful! [She goes to the doors to the garden and shouts.] Reverend Mother! Reverend Mother! Come quickly! Come quickly! ... Ah! We'll see! We'll see! ...
SCENE 10. The Same, Mother Superior: the latter re-enters via these doors, whilst the boarders form a group there.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
What has happened then, Sr. Radegonde?
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Just as I was passing the grill, I surprised this young man urging Sr. Sophie to accept a love letter. ... Isn't that just truly despicable?!
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Sr. Radegonde, you are causing a most ill-advised commotion.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
What?! You blame me for this matter?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Your zeal does occasionally carry you too far!
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[Beside herself, she raises her hands to the heavens.] My Lord, what must I do?! [As she exits via the doors to the garden, all the boarders flee.]
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[To Sophie.] Sophie will surely not refuse to hand over this note?
Sr. SOPHIE.
[Looking and sounding confused.] Reverend Mother?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
You must give it to me; and I insist that you do so.
Sr. SOPHIE.
[Humbly passing the note.] Here you are, Reverend Mother.
ARMAND.
Er, ... Reverend Mother, believe me, ... [He tails off.]
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[Severely.] Monsieur, I had good reason to believe that every Frenchman knew how to respect the rights of hospitality.
ARMAND.
My intention...
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[Interrupting.] That's enough, Monsieur; let's avoid a scandal. Please withdraw to the shelter. After prayers, I will call for you: and by then I will know what must be done. ... May I rely on your word?
ARMAND.
Yes, Reverend Mother; I will be at your service. [He bows courteously, then exits via the main door. ... The bell sounds for prayers. The boarders line up two by two in the garden; the mother superior places herself at their head; they march forward, after Sisters A., E., M., and S. have taken their places, with Sr. R. bringing up the rear. They all enter the chapel.]
SCENE 11. Claude, alone: carrying a package, he enters via the doors to the garden.
CLAUDE.
Well, here I be back from Lagny at just the hour that I be wantin'. I be fearin' that, with all them purchases for our bursar Sr. Mélanie, I be missin' the only time I be havin' to see my pretty Sr. Eugénie. But, as they be sayin': 'When a lover be joinin' his mistress, he ne'er be tired.' ... Now, let's be wastin' no time! Here be Sr. Mélanie's package; she be findin' it on this table. So, let's be thinkin' now of my bouquet for Eugénie; she be not long in comin' here after them prayers. ... What bliss I be havin' a small quart'hour with her; her bein' so mischievous and the like. [Sound of footsteps off-stage.] P'rhaps that be her now?!
SCENE 12. Claude, Armand: the latter re-enters via the main door.
ARMAND.
[Looking distraught.] Ah! My dear Claude! I'm a lost man!
CLAUDE.
We be needin' to find you then: and that be not too difficult! ... Now, let me be hearin' what woe befallin' you?
ARMAND.
So you weren't here when Sr. Radegonde surprised me as I handed a note to Sophie?
CLAUDE.
No; I just be arrivin' from town.
ARMAND.
That blasted woman made such a frightful noise that she attracted the entire house! The reverend mother knows everything.
CLAUDE.
Eh?! What be this you be tellin' me?! If I be found out too, there be a fine to-do. I be comin' off worse than you. ... Mercy me! You be makin' a fine mess here; in one foul swoop you be spoilin' your affairs and mine.
ARMAND.
I'm very sorry about it.
CLAUDE.
Hmph! You been very badly advised. ... Yes: if you be givin' me that letter, I be wiser; me, I be comin' and goin' with nobody suspectin' me of schemin'.
ARMAND.
True. ... But now I don't know how to resolve matters!
CLAUDE.
If you be not knowin' what to be doin', you best be takin' advice from your friends. François be a man of the world; he be tellin' me only t'other day of his love affairs: he be havin' so many that I be thinkin' that he been findin' himself many a time in an awkward position.
ARMAND.
You're right; he could be useful to me. Go and ask him to come here.
CLAUDE.
Eh?! Go and be tellin' him yourself!
ARMAND.
No, my friend; I don't want to leave this room. I have some hope that Sophie might be able to get away, and I wouldn't like to miss the opportunity of speaking with her.
CLAUDE.
That be all well and good: but I too be needin' to be here as well. [Enigmatically.] Sr. Eugénie be comin' here, and you be appreciatin' surely that I be wantin' my turn alone with her.
ARMAND.
Listen, Claude, my friend, as you yourself said just a few moments ago, you might well endure the same trouble as me: so let's join forces! ... Now, Sophie and Eugénie will not come here until after prayers have finished, which will be sometime yet. So, in the meantime, go and fetch François from the shelter, and together we'll deliberate and try to deal with the misfortune which threatens our happiness.
CLAUDE.
That be sound thinkin', that be: so I be off! [He exits via the main door.]
SCENE 13. Armand, alone.
ARMAND.
Alas, I cherish a forlorn hope, since I'll undoubtedly be deprived forever of my dear Sophie: and the mere thought of that drives me to despair. ... What to do? Countless plans appear at the same time in my mind. ... Perhaps I should inform my uncle? He'll doubtless reprimand me: but what does that matter? He's a good and generous man; and this mother superior is as respectable as she is benevolent. I'll urge my uncle to see her; for one thing, honest souls are usually in accord with one another. If they granted me my Sophie! ... But I'm wandering from the point; that's a rosy picture which I'll never see coming true. ...
SCENE 14. Armand, Claude, François: the latter two enter via the main door; François is noticeably tipsy.
FRANÇOIS.
Friend Claude says that there's a storm brewing around here? So much the better: it'll mature the grape! [He sings.] Let's flout sorrow, / And drink a bottle of two. / Wine makes us forget the morrow, / And ... [He tails off.]
ARMAND.
[To Claude.] He's in a fine state to give us advice!
FRANÇOIS.
Now, what's this that bothers you? Have you some enemy to fight? ... My arm is at your service. ... A thousand damn... [He puts a finger to his lips.] Ssh, François: quiet! No, don't curse; it's forbidden in this holy house. But, ... no matter, I can be courageous without cursing.
ARMAND.
It's not a matter of fighting. I merely wanted your help in getting me out of a predicament: but I realize that it won't be possible for you do so. ... Thank you, all the same.
FRANÇOIS.
So it wasn't necessary to disturb my affairs?!
CLAUDE.
Eh?! What affairs? You be doin' nothin'.
FRANÇOIS.
My friend, I was working at my convalescence! ... Now, at the very least, I'd like to know what you were going to ask me.
CLAUDE.
All right! It be bec's our lover here be givin' a note to his sweetheart; Sr. Portress be spottin' him, and she be makin' a frightful fuss.
FRANÇOIS.
Is that it?! Hmph! [To Armand.] Well, stop worrying, Monsieur: I'm well in with that good nun.
CLAUDE.
Bah!
FRANÇOIS.
Indeed so! It's she who supplies me with wine, because — so she says — it will settle my stomach; ... which is most odd, since the more I drink the weaker I become! But it's all one to me; I'll drink as much as needs be until I'm cured.
CLAUDE.
She be givin' you wine like that? ... P'rhaps she be smitten with you?
FRANÇOIS.
Yes; I do believe so. And I'm nothing if not grateful! [He starts to sing again.] I warble without a care / When my heart is laid bare / By the charms of a lass / Who does... [Sound of footsteps off-stage.]
CLAUDE.
[Interjecting.] Mercy me! You be makin' so much noise that Sr. Portress be comin' here. So you be savin' yourselves, now!
ARMAND.
Yes; let's avoid her company. Come on, François, come on!
FRANÇOIS.
That's well said; let's go and have a serious drink — that's sound advice, that is. [Armand leads François away via the main door.]
SCENE 15. Claude, Sr. Radegonde: the latter enters via the doors to the garden.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
What's all this racket?! ... Claude, why have you been disturbing our prayers? You were singing at the top of your voice!
CLAUDE.
[Sounding contrite.] It be that, Sr. Portress, ... it be that I be not thinkin'.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Hmph! You must think, young man; you must think! If you attended prayers, then you wouldn't disturb them. But you neglect your duty: and the good Lord will punish you for
doing so.
CLAUDE.
[Sounding even more contrite.] That be true, Sr. Portress. I be sorry; and I be singin' no more.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Just as well! [She exits via doors to the garden.]
SCENE 16. Claude, alone initially, Sr. Eugénie.
CLAUDE.
They be escapin' her just in time! If Sister Killjoy be seein' them, she be makin' another frightful fuss. ... Mmm? This poor Armand, he be havin' bad luck. ... Me too! I be thinkin' that all this to-do be preventin' me from seein' my pretty Eugénie today. [He sighs.]
Sr. EUGÉNIE.
[Standing near to the doors to the garden.] Claude! Pstt! Pstt!
CLAUDE.
Ah! There you be. What bliss!
Sr. EUGÉNIE.
My dearest Claude, I fear the worst. Do you know what has happened?
CLAUDE.
Yes.
Sr. EUGÉNIE.
Well, that's the reason I didn't dare come earlier. But Sr. Radegonde has just returned: so I took advantage of that moment to slip out of the chapel.
CLAUDE.
That be well done of you. But this poor man Armand, he be havin' much grief.
Sr. EUGÉNIE.
Sophie has had as much as he: and her fate will be much sadder.
CLAUDE.
No doubt; he can be takin' his bag and be leavin', but she...
Sr. EUGÉNIE.
[Interjecting.] She will suffer! ... But enough for the moment; I'm very worried that my absence will be noticed. We'll see each other here tomorrow, all being well. [The bell of the main door sounds.]
CLAUDE.
How awkward! [The two lovers throw each other kisses, as Eugénie withdraws from the doors to the garden and Claude exits via the door stage left.]
SCENE 17. Sr. Radegonde, M. Durand, M. Calmel: as they enter via the main door, Durand is replying to a question from Sr. Radegonde.
DURAND.
Yes, my good woman, we wish to speak to the reverend mother in person.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
She's in chapel now; if you would care to wait, I'll inform her shortly. ... Tell me your names, please.
DURAND.
My name is Durand, and his is Calmel; but she doesn't know us, so we shall wait until she's free. In the meantime, would you be so kind as to show us the house and its outbuildings? [Sr. R. hesitates and looks at them inquiringly.]
CALMEL.
We've come specially.
DURAND.
We've brought a letter from the Department's administration.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Oh! Mercy me! ... You've come to see the house, because you want to buy it?! Could this blessèd house be sold like that?! ... I'll have to leave it? I'll have lived here thirty years, next 14th August, the name day of my patroness, Sainte Radegonde.
DURAND.
Calm your fears. I don't think that the house is currently for sale; it's merely a matter of valuing it.
CALMEL.
And we've come for that purpose.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Blessèd Sainte Magdalene! Is this possible? ... What will become of us?! And the boarders?! Who will teach them?! ... And the reverend mother? This shock will kill her!
DURAND.
Please do calm yourself.
CALMEL.
So you have boarders?
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Yes, Monsieur; it is I who am their governess, and it is the good Fr. Leveneur, our director, who teaches them every subject.
CALMEL.
[Wryly.] Even dancing?
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Yes, most certainly; dancing, singing, music, ...
CALMEL.
[Waspishly.] How convenient: a true polymath!
DURAND.
But how were you able to be left alone during our disorders?
Sr. RADEGONDE.
It was, as our reverend mother says, a miracle! An effect of celestial Providence. ... Imagine, Messieurs, that our house was not destroyed or even harassed. We had to renounce the wearing of our habits: but none of us was arrested. We were required to take an oath, which we gave, because our dear director, who had already taken it, said that we should do so.
DURAND.
He did well there.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
It's true that our furniture was sold at auction: but the reverend mother sold a small property bequeathed by her parents to buy these back, as well as the shelter, its four beds, and its pharmacy. So our reverend mother — may the good Lord preserve her for us — re-established the house, and we live here very happily in mutual understanding.
DURAND.
What! You have a shelter?
Sr. RADEGONDE.
Yes, Monsieur; it's intended for the poor as well as the wayfarers who cross this forest.
DURAND.
Ah! I'm delighted with what you have just told me; and you fill me with veneration for this lady. Go, my good sister, go: and endeavor to introduce me to her. I'm impatient to have the honor of paying my respects to her.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[Looking at them intently, she seeks to read their eyes.] Yes, Monsieur, I'll go and fetch her. [After taking a few steps towards the doors, she retraces her steps.] Messieurs, pray don't force us to leave: relent, and the good Lord will reward you. [She makes deep curtsies as she exits via the garden doors.]
SCENE 18. M. Durand, M. Calmel.
DURAND.
I'm truly astonished by everything she has told us. Ah! If all the religious bodies had behaved as well, we wouldn't have had so much reason to punish them.
CALMEL.
Mmm? ... [Doubtfully.] Perhaps. ... Now, in my experience as a surveyor, I would say that the gardens and the buildings appear to have been extremely well maintained. What do you think?
DURAND.
Everything does appear in very good order. Indeed, I'm quite delighted with it; enchanted even!
CALMEL.
[Playfully tapping a plaque with his small cane.] This must the house sign; its representation of Sainte Magdalene is a shade droll!
DURAND.
Take care, my good man, you'll knock it over.
CALMEL.
I don't think any great harm would ensue.
DURAND.
More than you think!
CALMEL.
Ah, yes! These good women would believe themselves lost; it would be a very bad omen for them.
DURAND.
That's more than enough reason not to touch it. ... Besides, it would offend the rights of property.
CALMEL.
In this state of poverty?
DURAND.
Yes! We must be careful not to offend them in the slightest degree; it would be a clear violation of religious freedom to desecrate their images. True, we favor no religion: but let's respect all of them. Moreover, we must avoid being the partisans of atheism, because this principle, in my opinion, is forever irrevocable: the man who has neither faith nor law is soon capable of any crime. ...
CALMEL.
Ah! Here, I believe, is the reverend mother.
SCENE 19. The Same, Mother Superior, Sr. Radegonde: the two gentlemen draw themselves up as the mother superior and Sr. R. enter via the garden doors.
DURAND.
[Moving towards her.] My apologies, Reverend Mother, if I disturb you, but it's essential that we meet one another.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[Obligingly.] Monsieur, I should be most happy if I am able to be of service to you. To what do I owe such an honor?
DURAND.
The rumor of your good deeds, Reverend Mother, has reached me.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Rumor, Monsieur, is often merely a flattering illusion.
DURAND.
And modesty is the partner of virtue.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Monsieur, spare me praises which I'm no more curious to hear than to deserve.
DURAND.
So be it; I will come to the purpose of my visit. ... Reverend Mother, I understand that this convent is very dear to you?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Ah! Yes, Monsieur; very dear!
DURAND.
You would only leave it with difficulty?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
What do you mean, Monsieur? I would only leave it with my life!
DURAND.
You surprise me! Does religion order you to become attached to one particular enclosure ... or building?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Monsieur, it orders me to do all the good that it is in me to do; it orders me to relieve the needy; ... it even orders me to forgive you those anxieties and suspicions that your words have sprung forth in my mind.
DURAND.
What anxieties did you conceive, Reverend Mother?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
That in you, Monsieur, I'm seeing the new owner of this house.
DURAND.
You were not mistaken, Reverend Mother: your house belongs to me.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[Drawing her handkerchief.] Ah! Mercy me! We're doomed!
DURAND.
[After a short pause.] Calm your fears; the harm may not be so great as you think.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[Expressing in tones of deep sorrow.] Not so great! Not so great as I think! ... What will become of these young ladies?! ... Who will relieve the needy? Who will distribute the relief to the poor? ... Ah! Monsieur, you don't know all the harm you'll do by driving out from here those who, between their prayers, occupy themselves only with the needs of suffering humanity or neglected children.
DURAND.
[Visibly moved.] Who spoke to you about driving them out of here?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[Visibly bemused.] Did you not tell me, Monsieur, that you had bought this house?
DURAND.
Yes, Reverend Mother: but it's not to exercise the rights of a tyrant here.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
But those of an owner are to enjoy the use of his property.
DURAND.
Indeed so, Reverend Mother. But I was never a persecutor; and I've no intention of becoming one. ... You will remain.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[Sharply.] We will remain here?!
DURAND.
Yes, Reverend Mother.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
We will continue to receive and nourish the poor here? To raise young boarders in feelings of love for the Divinity, respect for their elders, and attachment to their country?
DURAND.
Yes, Reverend Mother.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[Raising her hands to the heavens.] O Lord, please receive my heartfelt gratitude. And pour forth all Thine blessings on this gentleman!
DURAND.
I will rent you this house subject to the same clauses and conditions as you had with the Department. ... My principles are invariable: henceforth, you need not fear either the whims of a manager or the changes of an administration. ... Reverend Mother, carry on doing all the good you are able to do; and, while awaiting for the reward which you envisage in Heaven, be rest assured of the gratitude of every respectable man on the here below. You owe me no further thanks! I discharge a sacred debt: that to humanity. ... You will always find in me a faithful friend and a willing collaborator in all your good deeds.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Monsieur, my expressions of thanks would indeed be a most feeble mark of my gratitude: so I would like you to enjoy the sight of the happiness that you are going to bring. ... Sr. Radegonde, please ask Claude to ring for everyone.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[Beside herself with joy.] Our Lord, I can barely contain myself! This man must surely be an angel sent by Thee. [On exiting.] Claude! Claude!! Quick! Quick!! Summon everyone!
SCENE 20. The Same, Fr. Leveneur, Sisters Aimée, Eugénie, Mélanie & Sophie, Antoine, Claude, the boarders: very shortly after Claude has rung the bell, everyone — except Armand and François — arrives almost simultaneously.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Ah! Fr. Leveneur! Sisters! Children! We are overjoyed! ... I can barely speak, so much I have to tell you. [She points graciously in Durand's direction.] You see before you the new founder of our community: it is he who has just bought this house, and who leaves us the pleasure of it. [Everyone inclines their head to him as a sign of gratitude.] We will no longer live in that cruel uncertainty which has inwardly consumed us; and we are assured of a safe haven. ... Reverend Father, please lead our expressions of thanksgiving?
Fr. LEVENEUR.
An honor, Reverend Mother. ... O Lord, we thank Thee for rewarding our virtue by bringing amongst us this benefactor, who attests to Thine majestic power. And, O Lord, we beseech Thee to accept our heartfelt gratitude, and to pour forth all Thine blessings on this honorable man. Amen. [Everyone, except Durand and Calmel, responds: Amen.] ...
DURAND.
You make me confused, not least by proving to me that it is indeed more blessèd to give than to receive.
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[Devouring him with her eyes.] What an admirable man! [She goes to kiss his hand.] Monsieur, allow me. [Completely moved by emotion, Durand withdraws his hand and embraces her. ... Then, as his eyes make a sweep of those assembled, they fall upon a tearful Sophie.]
DURAND.
What do I see?! A nun in tears! Reverend Mother, you must surely know the cause of her distress?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Yes, Monsieur; it is the fault which she committed, and for which I see that she has not yet repented.
DURAND.
And, would this fault be very serious? ... Reverend Mother, please do forgive my curiosity.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Monsieur, you are entitled to our confidence; and you may even be the judge in this matter.
DURAND.
You may rely on my integrity.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Well, these are the facts of the matter: one of the patients in the shelter, a convalescing young officer, abusing the freedom that we granted him, had the temerity to give a note to Sophie, who was reckless enough to accept it!
DURAND.
That was undoubtedly ill-considered. ... But what did the note contain?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[Handing Durand the note.] Here it is.
DURAND.
[Reading same. Then aside.] Goodness me! What do I read? "Armand"! [To the mother superior.] Reverend Mother, the miscreant is known to me: please have him come here.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Certainly, Monsieur. ... Claude, please be so good as to fetch the two gentlemen in the shelter.
CLAUDE.
I be goin' there now, Reverend Mother. [Aside, as he is leaving.] Ah, here be the moment of truth!
DURAND.
[Aside.] Prudence is of the essence here. [To the mother superior.] Reverend Mother, a word, if you please? [An aside to her, as he gently guides her towards the apron.] Please be so kind as tell me a little about this amiable young lady.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
An orphan since early childhood, she has been brought up in this house; she came from decent people.
DURAND.
Your intention is surely not to prevent her from contracting the bonds of wedlock, so as to keep her here in those of enforced celibacy?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[Sharply.] Heaven forbid! Everyone here is free to leave if she chooses! [Gentler and concerned tone.] No, Monsieur, I had merely hoped that Sophie would have opened her heart to me — at the time of the young man's first declarations — so that I might have been able to guide and unite her with her suitor, if he had been proper for her. ... Since who else could guarantee that he wouldn't try to take advantage of her young age and inexperience to deceive her?
DURAND.
You're right; the danger was great.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
And, setting aside such a bad precedence, Sophie should not have allowed herself to become involved in such a secretive relationship: and, therein, lies her true fault.
DURAND.
It must be rectified!
SCENE 21. The Same, Armand, François: the latter two enter via the main door, together with the returning Claude.
ARMAND.
[Without noticing Durand.] Reverend Mother, undoubtedly I must appear guilty to you: but please accept that my conduct was guided by the purest and most respectful feelings; and I implore you to forgive its unacceptable irregularities. ... Weakness commits faults: but humanity surely forgives them?
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Monsieur, you must no longer account to me for your conduct: no, here is our judge! [She points towards Durand.]
ARMAND.
[Turning towards Durand.] Goodness me! Uncle! You're here?!
DURAND.
In person; it's only by your note to Sophie that I have just learnt of your stay here. [To the mother superior.] I had feared, I must admit, that my nephew Armand — who has distinguished himself so often in battle by his courage — had dishonored himself in this respectable asylum by trying to seduce an innocent. ... But, given his clearly honorable intentions, as evinced by that note, I ask you, Reverend Mother, for Sophie's hand in marriage on behalf of my nephew.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
With pleasure, Monsieur. ... May their union lead to a lifetime's happiness!
ARMAND.
Uncle! Reverend Mother! You've made me overjoyed! ...
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Well, Sophie, are you content?
Sr. SOPHIE.
Believe me, Reverend Mother, I shall never forget your great kindness. [She kisses the mother superior's hand.]
CLAUDE.
[Tugging on Armand's sleeve.] Armand, you be speakin' for me.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
[Noticing Claude's actions.] What is it, Claude?
CLAUDE.
It be as I be wantin' ... Oh! Armand be sayin' this. [To Armand.] You be sayin' it better than me.
ARMAND.
Reverend Mother, would you be so gracious as to extend your kindness to Claude — who will certainly make himself worthy of it — and who, like me, has felt the effects of love.
CLAUDE.
Ah! That be well said: but you not be sayin' who.
DURAND.
Claude, what is preventing you saying who she is, yourself? I'm persuaded that the Reverend Mother will not refuse to make happy all those who surround her.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Indeed so, Monsieur; whoever agrees with sound morals and decency will never find an obstacle in me. ...
ANTOINE.
Come on, my lad! As they be sayin': 'Faint heart ne'er be winnin' a fair lady.'
CLAUDE.
Er, ... Then I be admittin' that it be the good Sr. Eugénie that I be askin' permission to be makin' my wife today.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
If she agrees, then so do I. ... Eugénie?
Sr. EUGÉNIE.
Yes, Reverend Mother; I agree with all my heart. And I too shall never forget your great kindness. [She kisses the mother superior's hand.]
CLAUDE.
[Staring at François.] That be not all!
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
What was that?! Who else is there?
CLAUDE.
François. ... He be havin' also an admirer!
DURAND.
[Smiling mischievously.] My word, this entire house appears to be affected by this affliction!
FRANÇOIS.
Well, in truth, I've barely given the matter a thought: but, after a fashion, she is Sr. Radegonde. [Aside.] She has some excellent wine!
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
What?! ... Sister, at your age?!
Sr. RADEGONDE.
[Looking astounded.] Heaven forbid! How is this possible?! ... Sainte Radegonde, my belovèd protectoress, I implore you: come and confound this wickedness and slander! ... Reverend Mother, Monsieur, ... believe me, I would never entertain such thoughts! ... Agh! How dreadful! How dreadful! ...
FRANÇOIS.
There, there, don't upset yourself, Sr. Radegonde; ... least said, soonest mended! Pretend that I said nothing! ...
DURAND.
Clearly, despite the enclosure and despite vows of retreat, love — aided and abetted by Nature — never loses its rights. Reverend Mother, we will have nothing to reproach ourselves; I, for one, am sure that we have done good deeds here today, since they are agreeable to several and harmful to none. ... Ah! When a period of serenity dawns, let's pour balm on the wounds: and not aggravate them.
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
Just so! [Raising her hands to the heavens.] O Lord, Thine presence fills us with happiness. If Thou wouldst remain with us, our fate would be most agreeable. For our part, we will try to please Thee and Thine subjects by the assiduous practice of love, virtue, and humility. Amen. [Everyone, except Calmel, responds: Amen. ... Curtain falls. ... Curtain Music: ad libitum.]
EPILOGUE.
[Costumes: Antoine, clean but threadbare dark-colored pantaloons and shirt; Fr. Bottin, dusty and threadbare cassock, walking stick.]
Curtain rises, to reveal a part of Sainte Magdalene Convent's ill-kempt walled garden: upstage, a wooden bench and two stools; stage left, a gate, with a view of the open countryside; stage right, a large door leading to the kitchen.
SCENE 1. Antoine, Fr. Bottin: the bell of the gate rings a few times, before Antoine enters the garden via the kitchen door.
ANTOINE.
I be comin'! I be comin'! [On reaching the gate.] Who be there?
Fr. BOTTIN.
Father Bottin.
ANTOINE.
Eh?! The good father surely be dead: so, scoundrel, let me be seein' you! [He opens the gate, and looks the interloper up and down.] Hmph! You be nothin' but a livin' scarecrow: so be off with you!
Fr. BOTTIN.
No, Antoine, it's really me: Father Bottin! Worse for wear, no doubt, but the same man who heard your confession — and that of your son, Claude — many a time in the chapel. ...
ANTOINE.
[After a dawning realization.] Mercy me! ... So you be! ... Be forgivin' me, your Reverence. [He kneels on both knees.] Father, bless. [Fr. B. does so, then A. stands up.] Pray be ent'rin' and be sittin' down, Father. [As Fr. B. enters, A. picks up the two stools and places them near the apron; then the pair sit down.] Now, Father, pray be tellin' me everythin' since you be leavin' us.
Fr. BOTTIN.
Ah! Where to start? Let me see. ... Well, Antoine, because I did not swear the constitutional oath in January '91 at Lagny — with the other priests — it was essential that I was discreet, particularly after Dr. Platon and I had made arrrangements the previous year for the convent's spiritual needs with a juring priest. Mmm? ... I cannot recall his name.
ANTOINE.
Father Leveneur.
Fr. BOTTIN.
Ah, yes! ... However, mere discretion was not enough once a law known as the Civil Constitution of the Clergy was in force: and in the event, I was summarily tried and condemned to death in mid-October '93. But, although the sentence was commuted to deportation to a penal colony in Guyana, I spent from March '94 to February '95 on a prison hulk moored near the Île d'Aix; then restored to health by the generous inhabitants of Saintes, who also obtained my liberty from the Committee of General Safety; and thence to here.
ANTOINE.
Er, ... Beggin' your pardon, Father, but where be this Île d'Aix?
Fr. BOTTIN.
Ah! [Getting up, he gathers six large and several smaller stones, places the former in the shape of a hexagon; then uses his walking stick to illustrate the following to A.] This six-sided shape represents France: ... this is our northern coast, separating us from England by a stretch of water of some 20 miles; ... this is our southern coast, separating us from the great continent of Africa by a stretch of water of some 50 miles; ... and this is our western coast, with the great naval dockyards of Rochefort, here, ... the Île d'Aix a few miles offshore, here, ... and Saintes a few miles south, here. ...
ANTOINE.
And, ... we be where, Father?
Fr. BOTTIN.
Ah! This is Paris, about 150 miles to the north-east, here; with Lagny about 15 miles east, here. ...
ANTOINE.
And this Guyana, Father?
Fr. BOTTIN.
[Moving a few paces to the south-west of the stone representing Rochefort.] About here; a vast country on the continent of South America, more than 3,000 miles to the south-west, and beyond a vast stretch of water known as the Atlantic Ocean.
ANTOINE.
[Expressing a look of both wonder and incomprehension.] I be barely understandin' them distances; me, I ne'er been beyond Lagny. ... P'rhaps my daughter be helpin' me there?
Fr. BOTTIN.
Daughter? ... I thought you were blessed with only one child: ... Claude?
ANTOINE.
That be so, Father; but he been marryin' Eugénie. ... Ah! I be asking her to be makin' some hot chocolate, bec's you be lookin' cold and I be forgettin' my manners. ... Pray be excusin' me, Father. [He exits via the kitchen door.]
SCENE 2. Fr. Bottin, alone.
Fr. BOTTIN.
I fear that I would greatly confuse the good Antoine were I to give him even a partial account of the tribulations of my colleagues. [He looks sad and reflective.] We, some 800 of us, were all victims of the Lord; He had placed us all on the altar: but He did not want to sacrifice us all, and His double-edged sword was satisfied with striking down the greater part of us. Indeed, in the ten months which passed from the end of March '94 until the beginning of February '95, disease removed around 560 of my dear, long-suffering colleagues. ...
SCENE 3. Fr. Bottin, Antoine: the latter re-enters via the kitchen door, and sits down again.
ANTOINE.
Father, what be puzzlin' me, be why you be ne'er choosin' to take them oaths?
Fr. BOTTIN.
Mmm? ... Let me try to explain, Antoine. Amongst the many gifts which God grants each one of us, is that of free will. Now, when I exercised my free will in being ordained, I gave my oath to Him. And, had I ever broken my covenant with Him, then my word to anyone — and everyone — would have no value: none at all! ... ... [Curtain falls.]
AFTERWORD.
From the wings, the narrator, holding the same blue folder, walks to the center of the apron, in front of the curtain.
NARRATOR.
The late antiquarian music dealer Albi Rosenthal once said: "Never believe in the provenance of a manuscript which comes from a little old lady living out in the country." While the provenance of my distant relative's manuscript brooks no discussion, the spirit of Dr. Rosenthal's caveat surely holds true: firstly, about her primary sources, since her first and third acts closely resemble Laujon's Le Couvent ou Les Fruits du caractère et de l'éducation and Corsange & Hapdé's Le Dernier Couvent de France, respectively; ... secondly, about the Abbé Bottin, who lived in Lagny-sur-Marne, and who wrote an autobiographical account of the appalling treatment of 800 non-juring priests imprisoned on two hulks in the Île d'Aix Roads during 1794 and 1795; ... thirdly, about Sainte Magdalene's Convent itself, and which I have not managed to identify — perhaps because it was either a nom de plume or one of the countless convents wilfully destroyed during the French Revolution; ... and lastly, about this convent's unusual topographical features. ... ... But, whilst these stated aspects do demand investigation, I contend that their clarification is unlikely to detract from my distant relative's presumed original purposes, namely to provide her students: firstly, with a vehicle for expressing their interpretative and creative abilities; ... secondly, with a counter-balance to the somewhat fantastic and irrefutably propagandist portrayals of conventual life during the Ancien Régime which were staged during the French Revolution itself; ... thirdly, with an opportunity of considering History other than through the eyes of the 'powers that be'; ... fourthly, with an opportunity to reflect upon the inviolability of an eternal covenant with God, during an era when the breach of the latest oath to the State was à la mode; ... and lastly, with a complementary demonstration of the importance she attached to education. ... ... Inevitably, the mists of time have obscured, and may well have erased, any evidence of her success in the 19th century: but should even one of her original purposes resonate with present-day spectators, like your good selves, then her bequest to our family may also prove to be her legacy to you. ...
........................................................................................
(Simultaneously, the house lights are switched on and the curtain rises; the cast appear to applause from the theater audience, during which time the Headmaster ascends the stage.)
Mr. POND.
First and foremost, I congratulate the Upper Sixth-Remove on their production. Speaking personally, I found it to be a most unusual and refreshing change to one of Narkover's longest-standing traditions — not necessarily a bad thing in itself? — although only time will tell whether either their approach or its subject matter will prove to be other than ephemeral in nature. (He glances at his fob watch.) Now, before we adjourn for well-earned refreshments, may I take this opportunity of reminding you all of tomorrow evening's carol concert? ...
Later that same evening. Flashman and Pattullo are both slumped down on their respective beds in their study-dormitory ...
PATTULLO.
Pfiou ! Je suis épuisé.
FLASHMAN.
Moi aussi, Spats. Je suis bien content que tout soit fini et bien fini...
PATTULLO.
Er,... Flashy, étais-tu aussi content de l'interprétation ?
FLASHMAN.
Oui ; tout le monde s'est entendu pour faire un effort tout à fait magnifique. Et, au moins nous n'avons pas été bombardés de tomates pourries par le public ! (Both laugh.) ...
PATTULLO.
Er,... Mettant de côté ces paroles quelque peu énigmatiques de Bassy, à la fin du spectacle, en as-tu eu d'autres ?
FLASHMAN.
De qui, par exemple ?
PATTULLO.
En particular de Mme Brummel ou de Dr Stuart ?
FLASHMAN.
Quant à Barbydol, il n'a pas assisté à la représentation ; je sais pas pourquoi. (He shrugs dismissively.) Et la bonne dame m'a dit, mot à mot : "A good working draft: but no more!" C'est tout ; sauf qu'elle nous fournirait sa critique le trimestre prochain, si nous voulions.
PATTULLO.
Mmm ? Je me demande si sa critique... (F. interrupts.)
FLASHMAN.
Désolé, Spats. Je comprends que tu voudrais faire une autopsie, et à juste titre : mais non pas ce soir, je t'en prie...
PATTULLO.
Mes excuses, Flashy ; tu as raison, bien sûr. D'ailleurs, il faut que j'achève mes bagages pour les vacances de Noël.
FLASHMAN.
Oh ! Moi aussi !...
Last afternoon of term. Mumford, carrying a set of scripts, arrives in the room where the rest of the Upper 6th-Remove has assembled for the last General Studies lesson of the term ...
MUMFORD.
What ho, everyone! Mumsy at your service! (He smiles.)
UNMAN.
Eh! Where's Barbydol?
MUMFORD.
I've no idea, Hombré. Apparently he's ill, or, as Matron put it to me: "Dr. Stuart is indisposed." She then proceeded to shove this pile in yours truly's direction, to which was added a note. ... Hold on a mo'. (He places the scripts on a desk, then reads the following note drawn from his pocket.) "To whomever it concerns. ... Please ensure that a copy of this script, Asymmetric Chinese Boxes, is delivered personally to each member of the Upper 6th-Remove. Each may be informed that although he or she should not regard said script as compulsory reading for the forthcoming Christmas vacation, he or she should be minded
that read-throughs of same will occupy no little of our attention during the coming Hilary term. ... Joyeux Noël ! A. D. S." ...
McKECHNIE.
"To whomever" ... "no little of" ... "Hilary term" ... Hmph! Barbydol may be at 'death's door', but he is certainly at his pompous best. (Knowing smiles from rest of the class.)
MUMFORD.
Anyway, given that muggins here is the whomever, the sooner I dish out the wretched things, the sooner we can skedaddle. Agreed? (Chorus of assent. ... Then he goes round the class passing a properly named copy of the script to the person
in question, although addressing same by his or her common attribution.) Salice. ... Conny. ... Jock. ... Shandy. ... Scud. ... Flashy. ... Mally. ... Alice. ... Duncan. ... Jack. ... Mumford, er, ... me! (He places his copy on his vacant chair.) Spats. ... Chalice. ... Popsy. ... Flo. (Her copy is in Braille.) Lolli. ... Trudi. ... Hombré. ... Witters. ... And last but not least, Ziggy. ...
First morning of the vacation. Dr. S., in his study, with a letter-opener in hand, is looking rather apprehensively at an official-looking envelope; he opens same, and starts to read aloud the enclosed letter ...
Department of Oncology,
Alec Desmond Stuart, Esq., M.A., D.Phil., |
...
References
Anon. : Histoire de l'Abbaye Royale de Saint-Pierre de Jumièges, Métérie, Rouen, 1882-1885 [Transcription].
Anon. : Le Bonnet de la Liberté, La Guillotine, Le Goût du siècle, and La Gigue anglaise for Orch. (contredanses, edited by Frère; Paris, c. 1790); Adda 581105.
Badura-Skoda, P. : Quoting A. Rosenthal in the notes to his recording of Joseph Haydn's [Winfried Michel's (1948-)] fortepiano sonatas Hob. XVI: 2a-2g; Koch Schwann 3-1572-2.
Bély, L. (Éd.) : Dictionnaire de l'Ancien Régime, Presses Universitaires de France, Paris, 1996.
Bottin, M.-B.-P. (1750-?) : Des Souffrances de près de huit cents ecclésiastiques français, [...], Crapart, Paris, 1796 [Tr.].
Cédoz, F.-M.-Th. (1819-1895) : Un Couvent de religieuses anglaises à Paris de 1634 à 1884, Lecoffre, Paris, 1891 [Tr.].
Corrette, M. (1707-1795) : Organ Magnificat en mi [...] très utile aux Dames religieuses, ex Pièces pour l'orgue dans un genre nouveau, 1787 [RISM 990011320] ; Adda MN AD184
D'Émilliane, G. (?1655-1714) : Tromperies des prêtres et des moines de l'Église romaine, Acher, Rotterdam, 1693 [Tr.].
Diverse Authors [Transcriptions] : Anon. (Les Fourberies monacales, Pain, Paris, 1790); Boutet, J.-M., dit Monvel (Les Victimes cloîtrées, Chambon, Paris, 1791); Corsange, J. & Hapdé, J. (Le Dernier Couvent de France ou l'Hospice, Guilhemat, Paris, 1796); Fiévée, J. (Les Rigueurs du cloître, Fiévée, Paris, 1790); Flins, C. de (Le Mari Directeur ou le Déménagement du couvent, Brunet, Paris, 1791); Gouges, O. de, née Marie Gouze (Le Couvent ou Les Vœux forcés, Duchesne et al., Paris, 1790); Laujon, P. (Le Couvent ou Les Fruits du caractère et de l'éducation, Barbou, Paris, 1790); Picard, L.-B. (Les Visitandines, Maradan, Paris, 1792); Pigault-Lebrun, C.-A., née Pigault de l'Épinoy (Les Dragons et les Bénédictines, Barba, Paris, 1794).
Éberlé, L. (1848-1923) : Faverney, son abbaye et le miracle des Saintes-Hosties, Valot, Luxeuil, 1915 [Tr.].
Hérissay, J. (1882-1969) : Les Aumôniers de la guillotine, 1793-1794, Bloud & Gay, Paris, 1935 [Tr.].
Méritan, J. (1868-1949) : Les Trente-deux Martyres d'Orange, Société Bonne Presse du Midi, Vaison-La-Romain, 1931 [Tr.].
Le Paire, J.-A. : Petite Histoire populaire de Lagny-sur-Marne, Colin, Lagny, 1906 [Tr.].
Quentel, J.-L. : Moulins, Soutanes et Guillotine, Éditions de la Cité, Brest, 1989.
Peters, R. : Aufbau1 (a teaching resource for Year 10 & 11 chemistry students, which contains no falsehoods, no half-truths, and no non sequiturs: Student's Version & Teacher's Notes), unpublished Mss., 1996.
Peters, R. : Hat Wissensdrang die Katze getötet? (a suite of multidisciplinary resources for Year 10 & 11 students; including Playlets 1, 2, & 3), unpublished Mss., 1996.
Peters, R. : Eine Spinnwebe von Wissen? (a suite of multidisciplinary resources for Year 10 & 11 students; including Playlets 4, 5, & 6), unpublished Mss., 1998/99.
Peters, R. : Konsilienz: Die Kunst für die wissende Katze? (a suite of multidisciplinary resources for Year 12 students; including Playlets 7, 8, & 9), unpublished Mss., 2000/02.
Poquelin, J-B., known as Molière (1622-1673) : Le Tartuffe, 1664.
Zelenka, J. D. (1679-1745) : Missa Sanctissimae Trinitatis (ZWV 17; Dresden, 1736); Studio Matous MK00172231.
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