Three Plays: Six Characters in Search of an Author, Henry IV, The Mountain Giants (Oxford World's Classics) (24 page)

He bursts out laughing. Laughter, somewhat uncertain, also from the others, except for
LADY MATILDA
.

BELCREDI
[
to
DI NOLLI
]. Hear that! Not bad.

DI NOLLI
[
to the four young men
]. You?

HENRY IV
. Forgive them. This [
shaking his clothes
], this for me is a caricature, an obvious and deliberate caricature of that other constant incessant masquerade in which we play involuntary clowns [
pointing to
BELCREDI
] when, without knowing it, we disguise ourselves as what we think we are. Forgive them because they still don’t see the costume, their costume, as their real self. [
Turning again to
BELCREDI
] It’s easy to get used to it, you know. Nothing’s simpler than strutting round like a tragic character [
he mimes the action
] in a room like this. Listen to this, doctor. I remember a priest—an Irishman for sure—a handsome chap—who was sleeping in the sunshine one November day, resting his arm on the back of a park bench, basking in the golden pleasure of that mild warmth, which to him must have felt like summer. You can be sure that in that moment he didn’t know where he was or that he was a priest. He was dreaming. And who knows what he was dreaming! A little urchin passed by who had just plucked a flower, stem and all. As he went past, he tickled the priest with it, here on the neck. I saw him open his smiling eyes and his mouth too was all smiling in the blessed smile of his dream—oblivious. But then, I tell you, he immediately pulled himself together, stiffening into his priestly garb; and back into his eyes came the very same seriousness that you have seen in mine. Because Irish priests defend the
seriousness of their Catholic faith as zealously as I defend the sacred rights of hereditary monarchy. Ladies and gentlemen, I’m cured because I am perfectly aware that I’m playing the madman, and I do it in all tranquillity. The problem is yours, because you live out your madness in such a turmoil, neither knowing nor seeing it as madness.

BELCREDI
. There you are, the conclusion is that we’re the madmen now!

HENRY IV
[
with a violent reaction that he seeks to control
]. But if you weren’t mad, both you and her [
pointing to the
MARCHESA
], would you have come here to see me?

BELCREDI
. Well, actually, I came here thinking you were the madman.

HENRY IV
[
raising his voice and pointing to the
MARCHESA
again
]. And her?

BELCREDI
. Ah, her, I couldn’t say … I see that she’s spellbound by what you say … fascinated by this ‘conscious’ madness of yours! [
Turning to her
] Dressed up the way you are, you could stay here and live it out yourself, Marchesa.

LADY MATILDA
. Now you’re being insolent!

HENRY IV
[
at once, trying to calm her down
]. Take no notice of him, take no notice. He keeps trying to provoke me. And yet the doctor warned him to avoid all provocation. [
Turning to
BELCREDI
] But why should I still be worked up about what happened between us, the part you played in my bad luck with her [
indicating the
MARCHESA
,
then turning to her and pointing to
BELCREDI
], the part he plays for you now! My life is
this
. It’s not like yours. Your life, the life that you’ve grown old in, is one that I haven’t lived! [
To
LADY MATILDA
] Is this what you wanted to tell me, is this what you wanted to prove, with your sacrifice, dressed up like this on the doctor’s advice? Oh, well done! as I told you, doctor: ‘What we were then, eh? and how we are now?’ But I’m not a madman in your sense, doctor. I know very well that he [
indicating
DI NOLLI
] can’t be me, because I’m the one who is Henry IV–-and have been, here, for the last twenty years, you see. Fixed in the eternity of this disguise. She has lived those twenty years [
indicating the
MARCHESA
], she has enjoyed them, to end up … look at her … as someone I no
longer recognize: because I know her like this [
indicating
FRIDA
and going up to her
]. For me this is how she is, always and for ever … You all seem like children that I can scare to bits. [
To
FRIDA
] And you, my child, were really frightened by the game they persuaded you to play, not understanding that for me it couldn’t be the game they thought, but this tremendous miracle—the dream that has come to life in you more than ever! Up there you were an image: they have made you into a living being—you are mine, mine! Mine by right!

He puts his arms around her, laughing like a madman, while everyone cries out in horror; but as they run to tear
FRIDA
from his arms, he assumes a fearsome air and calls to his four young men:

HENRY IV
. Hold them back! Hold them back! I command you to hold them back.

The four young men, dazed, but as if under a spell, automatically try to restrain
DI NOLLI
,
the
DOCTOR
,
and
BELCREDI
.

BELCREDI
[
breaking free and hurling himself against Henry IV
]. Let her go! Let her go! You’re not mad!

HENRY IV
[
in a flash, drawing the sword that hangs from the belt of
LANDOLPH
,
who is standing next to him
]. So I’m not mad? Take that!

He wounds him in the stomach. With a cry of horror, everyone runs to help
BELCREDI
,
shouting amid the confusion
,

DI NOLLI
. Has he wounded you?

BERTHOLD
. He’s wounded! Yes, he’s wounded!

DOCTOR
. I warned you.

FRIDA
. Oh God!

DI NOLLI
. Frida, come here!

LADY MATILDA
. He’s mad! He’s mad!

DI NOLLI
. Keep hold of him!

BELCREDI
[
as they carry him off through the left door, protesting violently
]. No, you’re not mad! He’s not mad! He’s not mad!

They go out through the left door, shouting and they keep on shouting offstage until, high above the other voices, comes the shrill scream of
LADY MATILDA
,
followed by silence
.

HENRY IV
has remained on the stage with
LANDOLPH, HAROLD
,
and
ORDULPH
.
His eyes are wide and appalled at the living force of his own fiction that, in one short moment, has driven him to commit a crime
.

HENRY IV
. Now, yes … there’s no other way … [
calling them around him, as if seeking protection
] here together, here together … and for ever!

Curtain

A Myth

The Theatre Company of the Countess

Ilse, also called the Countess

The Count, her husband

Diamante, the second female lead

Cromo, the character actor

Spizzi, the young actor

Battaglia, the female impersonator

Sacerdote

Lumachi, who draws the cart

Residents of the Villa ‘La Scalogna’ (the Scalognati)
^*

Cotrone, known as the Magician

Quaquèo, the dwarf

Duccio Doccia

La Sgricia

Milordino

Mara-Mara, with the umbrella, also known as the Scotswoman

Magdalen

Puppets

Apparitions

The Angel Hundred-and-One and his Cohort

Indeterminate time and place, on the border between fable and reality
.

A villa known as ‘La Scalogna’ where Cotrone lives with his Scalognati
.

Almost midstage, on a small elevation, stands a tall cypress; old age has reduced its trunk to a mere pole and its top to something like a cornice-brush
.

The villa is plastered with a faded reddish colour. To the right all that can be seen is the main entrance and the four steps leading up to it, set between two small curved balconies protruding on either side, with little pillared balustrades and columns to support the cupolas. The door is old and still retains traces of its original green paint. To right and left, on the same level as the door, two French windows open onto the balconies
.

The villa, once rather grand, is now decayed and neglected. It stands alone in the valley and before it there is a small lawn, with a bench to the left. The path to this spot descends steeply as far as the cypress and then continues to the left, crossing a little bridge over an invisible stream. This bridge with its two parapets must be practicable and clearly visible on the left of the stage. Beyond it can be seen the wooded slopes of the mountain
.

When the curtain rises it is almost evening. From inside the villa, accompanied by strange instruments, comes the leaping rhythm of a song which sometimes bursts into sudden shrills and sometimes plunges into dangerous glissades, drawn into a kind of vortex from which all of a sudden it breaks away, taking flight like a shying horse. This song should give the impression of a danger being overcome: we wait anxiously for it to end so that everything can go quietly back to its proper place, as when we emerge from certain inexplicable moments of madness
.

Through the two French windows giving onto the balconies one can see that the interior of the villa is illuminated by strangely coloured lamps which confer a ghostly mysterious aspect on
LA SGRICIA
who is sitting calm and immobile in the right balcony and on
DOCCIA
and
QUAQUÈO
in the left, the former with his elbows on the balustrade and his head in his hands, the latter sitting on the balustrade with his back to the wall
.
LA SGRICIA
is a little old woman with a lace bonnet untidily knotted under her chin, a purple shawl over her shoulders, a pleated black-and-white check dress, and net mittens. She always sounds irritated when she speaks and she keeps blinking her cunning restless eyes. Every now and then she
wrinkles her nose and wipes it swiftly with her finger
.
DUCCIO DOCCIA
,
small, of uncertain age, and completely bald, has two grave protruding eyes and a thick pendulous lower lip in a long, pale, skull-like face: his hands are long and soft, and he walks with bent legs as if always looking for somewhere to sit down
.

QUAQUÈO
is a fat dwarf dressed as a child, with red hair, a large brick-red face, and a wide smile that seems foolish on his lips, but malicious in his eyes. As soon as the song coming from the villa is over
,
MILORDINO
emerges from behind the cypress. He is a young man of about thirty, with an unhealthy air and a sickly stubble on his cheeks, wearing a top hat and a tailcoat green with age which he insists on keeping so as not to lose his genteel aspect. In a panic, he announces:

MILORDINO
. Oh, oh! People coming! People coming here! Quick, let’s have thunder and lightning, and the green tongue of fire on the roof!

LA SGRICIA
[
getting up, opening the window, and calling into the villa
]. Help! Help! People coming here! [
Then, leaning out from the balcony
] What people, Milordino, what kind of people?

QUAQUÈO
. In the evening? If it were daytime, I’d believe it. They must have got lost. Now they’ll turn back; you’ll see.

MILORDINO
. No, no. They’re really coming this way. They’re already here below. A lot of them, more than ten.

QUAQUÈO
. So many. Enough to make them bold.

He jumps down from the balustrade onto the steps leading up to the door and from there he goes down to the cypress to look out with
MILORDINO
.

LA SGRICIA
[
screaming into the villa
]. The lightning! The lightning!

DOCCIA
. Hold on! Lightning’s expensive.

MILORDINO
. They’ve got a cart as well; they’re drawing it themselves, one pulling between the shafts and two pushing from behind.

DOCCIA
. Must be people going up the mountain.

QUAQUÈO
. Eh, no. It looks as if they’re really heading for us. And, oh, they have a woman on the cart. Look, look! The cart’s full of hay and the woman’s lying on top.

MILORDINO
. At least get Mara to go down onto the bridge, with her umbrella.

MARA-MARA
comes running from the door of the villa, shouting:

MARA-MARA
. Here I am! Here I am! The Scots lass will scare them off!

MARA-MARA
is a little woman who could be presented as swollen and stuffed like a bale, with a tiny tartan plaid skirt over the stuffed part, bare legs, and woollen stockings folded back on her calves; she wears a stiffbrimmed green oilcloth hat with a cock’s feather on the side, holds a small parasol-type umbrella, and has a haversack and flask slung over her shoulder
.

MARA-MARA
. Hey, give me some light from the roof. I don’t want to break my neck.

She runs to the bridge and climbs on the parapet where, lit up and given a spectral air by a green spotlight from the villa roof, she walks up and down pretending to be a ghost. Broad flashes of light come from behind the villa, like summer lightning, accompanied by the thunder of clanking chains
.

LA SGRICIA
[
to the two who are watching
]. Are they stopping? Are they turning back?

QUAQUÈO
. Call Cotrone!

DOCCIA
. Call Cotrone!

LA SGRICIA
. He’s got an attack of gout.

Both
LA SGRICIA
and
DUCCIO DOCCIA
have come down from the balconies and are now standing anxiously on the lawn in front of the villa. Through the door comes
COTRONE
,
a bulky bearded man with a handsome open face, large eyes that shine with smiling serenity, and a fresh mouth which also shines thanks to the healthy teeth amid the warm blond of his unkempt moustaches and beard. His feet are rather delicate and he is carelessly dressed in a loose black jacket and floppy light-coloured trousers, an old Turkish fez, and a pale blue open-neck shirt
.

COTRONE
. What’s going on? Aren’t you ashamed of yourselves? You’re trying to scare someone off and you’re scared yourselves?

MILORDINO
. There are hordes of them coming up. More than ten.

QUAQUÈO
. No. Eight. I counted. There are eight of them, including the woman.

COTRONE
. A woman too? Cheer up then! Maybe she’s a dethroned queen. Is she naked?

QUAQUÈO
[
startled
]. Naked? No, she didn’t look naked to me.

COTRONE
. Naked, you fool! Lying on the hay in a cart, a naked woman, breasts free to the air and red hair spread out like blood in a tragedy. Her exiled ministers pull her along—in shirtsleeves so as not to sweat so much. Come on, wake up, use your imagination! Don’t start going all rational on me. You know we’re in no danger, and reason’s made for cowards. And, by Jove, the night is coming on, the night, our kingdom!

MILORDINO
. Fair enough! But if they don’t believe in anything …

COTRONE
. And do you need people to believe in you before you can believe in yourself?

LA SGRICIA
. Are they still coming up?

MILORDINO
. The lightning can’t stop them. Nor can Mara.

DOCCIA
. Well, if it’s not working, it’s a waste. Switch it off.

COTRONE
. Yes, switch it off up there! Cut out the lightning! Mara, you come here. If they’re not frightened, it means they’re our kind and we’ll get along with no trouble. The villa’s big enough. [
Struck by an idea
] Oh, hold on a moment! [
To
QUAQUÈO
] Did you say there were eight of them?

QUAQUÈO
. Eight, yes, that’s what I thought …

DOCCIA
. And you’re supposed to have counted them! Tell me another.

QUAQUÈO
. Eight, yes, eight.

COTRONE
. So not all that many.

QUAQUÈO
. Eight, and a cart; you think that’s not many.

COTRONE
. Perhaps because some of them have disbanded.

LA SGRICIA
. You mean they’re bandits?

COTRONE
. Bandits, my foot! You pipe down. Nothing’s impossible for the mad. Maybe it’s them.

DOCCIA
. Them! Who?

QUAQUÈO
. Here they are.

The flashing lightning and the spotlight that illuminated
MARA
on the bridge have been turned off and the stage is left bathed in a tenuous twilight which slowly gives way to moonlight. From the path behind the cypress
come the
COUNT, DIAMANTE, CROMO
,
and
BATTAGLIA
the female impersonator
.

The
COUNT
is a pale blond young man, lost-looking and very tired. His present poverty can be gathered from his dress: a threadbare morning coat of a greenish hue and slightly tattered, a white waistcoat, and an ancient straw hat. And yet his features and manners still betray the disenchanted gloom of great nobility
.

DIAMANTE
is nearing forty. Above a shapely generous bust she holds her head high and firm, with a certain swagger; her face is violently painted, armed with tragic eyebrows over two deep grave eyes separated by an imperious haughty nose. At the corners of her mouth she has two inverted commas of jet-black hair and there are a few more metallic curls on her chin. She always seems about to give vent to her protective compassion for the unfortunate young
COUNT
and her indignation towards
ILSE
,
his wife, whose victim she believes him to be
.

CROMO
is strangely bald at the forehead and temples so that his carroty hair makes two triangles whose points meet at the top of his head; pale, freckled, and with light green eyes, he speaks with a cavernous voice and with the tone and gestures of someone who takes offence on the slightest occasion
.
BATTAGLIA
,
though a man, has the horsey face of a depraved old spinster and all the simpering manners of a sick monkey. He acts both male and female parts (the latter in a wig) and also acts as prompter. Though his face bears the marks of vice, his eyes are suppliant and mild
.

CROMO
. Ah, thank you, my friends. A great help. We were at the end of our tether.

DOCCIA
[
puzzled
]. Thank you? For what?

CROMO
. Well, of course, for the signals you sent out to show that we’d finally reached our destination.

COTRONE
. That’s it, then. It’s really them.

BATTAGLIA
[
indicating
MARA
]. This lady was wonderful. There’s courage for you.

CROMO
. And how! On the parapet of the bridge. Magnificent. With her umbrella!

DIAMANTE
. And the lightning was really lovely. That green flame on the roof!

QUAQUÈO
. Hear that. They took it for a show. But we were trying to do ghosts …

MILORDINO
. They actually enjoyed it.

DIAMANTE
. Ghosts? What ghosts?

QUAQUÈO
. Yes, ghosts, apparitions to scare people off.

COTRONE
. Now that’s enough. [
To
CROMO
] The Theatre Company of the Countess?
^*
Just what I was saying …

CROMO
. Here we are.

DOCCIA
. The Company?

BATTAGLIA
. The remnants of it.

DIAMANTE
. Absolute nonsense! Say the pillars of it, thank heaven, the pillars. And here, first and foremost, the Count. [
She takes him by the hand and puts an arm round his shoulder as if he were a little boy
] Now come on, step forward.

COTRONE
[
offering his hand
]. Welcome, my lord Count.

CROMO
[
declaiming
]. A count without a county and nothing left to count.

DIAMANTE
[
indignantly
]. When will you stop letting yourselves down by humiliating …

COUNT
[
annoyed
]. No, dear, I’m not humiliated.

CROMO
. All right, let’s call him Count; but, take it from me, with the state we’re in, it might be as well to play it down.

BATTAGLIA
. When I said ‘the remants of it’ I was speaking for myself …

CROMO
[
putting him in his place
]. Yes, we all know how modest you are.

BATTAGLIA
. Not really. More like distracted, because I’m tired and hungry.

COTRONE
. But you can have a rest here and … yes, I reckon we can rustle up a bite of something.

LA SGRICIA
[
quick, cold, decisive
]. The fire’s out in the kitchen.