The Tragedy of Mister Morn
Page 11
And my blessèd parrot is calm as a vision.
KLIAN:
That bird dazzles my eyes… Please understand,
they will descend upon us now—there is
no way out!…
DANDILIO:
I sense no danger:
a blind rumour blown in from the south,
that the King is alive, has intoxicated
souls with an unheard-of joy; the city is so
tired of executions that, having finished
with Tremens, the chief madman, they will
hardly start searching for his accomplices.
KLIAN:
You think so? Yes, it’s true, the sun is shining…
And the gunshots have died down… Shall I open
the window, shall I look out? Eh?
DANDILIO:
Moreover,
I have this little thing… shall I show you?
Here, in this soft case… My talisman…
Here, look…
KLIAN:
The crown!
DANDILIO:
Wait, you’ll drop it…
KLIAN:
Do you hear?… O, God… Someone… On the stairs…
Ah!
DANDILIO:
I said you’d drop it!
[Enter TREMENS.]
TREMENS:
Golden thunder!
I’m touched! But in vain were you preparing
to crown me. Congratulate me, Klian: half
a kingdom is promised for my bald pate!…
[to DANDILIO]
Tell me, blithe old man, when and how
did you come by that piece of lustre?
DANDILIO:
One
of those who searched the palace sold it to me
for a gold coin.
TREMENS:
Well, well… Give it here. It fits.
But I confess, right now, I would prefer
a nightcap. Where is Ella?
DANDILIO:
Nearby. She’s sleeping.
TREMENS:
Ah… good. Klian, why are you whining?
KLIAN:
I can’t… Tremens, Tremens, why did I follow
you? You are death, you are the abyss!
We will both perish.
TREMENS:
You’re absolutely right.
KLIAN:
My friend, my leader… You are the wisest of all.
Save me—and Ella… Teach me—what should
I do?… My Tremens, what should I do?
TREMENS:
What should you do? Sleep. I shiver once more;
once more that naked concubine—fever—
clings to my stomach with her cold thighs,
strokes, strokes my back with her icy palms…
Give me something to throw over my shoulders,
old man. That’s it. Yes, my dear Klian,
I am convinced that our friends were right
when they warned us that… By the way,
I executed all four of them—
they tried to betray me… All I needed!
I am going to sleep. Let the soldiers
find me themselves.
KLIAN: [cries out]:
Ah!…
DANDILIO:
Don’t shout…
don’t. There. I knew that would happen.
[ELLA enters from the right.]
TREMENS:
My daughter, Ella, do not fear: all is well!
Klian here is singing his latest poems…
ELLA:
Father, are you wounded? There’s blood.
TREMENS:
No.
ELLA:
Your hand is once more, once more cold…
and your nails, they look as though you’ve eaten
wild strawberries… I will stay here, Dandilio…
I will lie down, give me a pillow… Really
I feel better… All night they fired… My child
cried… But where is your cat, Dandilio? …
DANDILIO:
Some prankster struck it with a stone bottle…
Otherwise I would not have bought the parrot…
ELLA:
Yes, the fiery one… Yes, I do
recall… We drank to its health… Ah!
[laughs]
“And yet I fear you… For you are fatal then…”
—where is that from? Where’s it from? No,
I have forgotten.
KLIAN:
Enough… Ella… my love…
close your eyes…
ELLA:
… You are as pale as a fresh
pine-board… and droplets of resin… I don’t
like it… Go away…
KLIAN:
Forgive me… I won’t, I just…
I wanted to fix your pillow… There…
[He sinks down at her bedside.]
TREMENS:
What was I saying? Yes, they search badly;
there, around the senate, around the palace,
the people crowd about, cleaning the royal
chambers, airing the carpets, and sweeping up
my cigarette butts and Ella’s hairpins…
Very amusing! And what an amusing rumour,
that apparently a burglar—somewhere in the south,
you see—climbed into the house and whacked
the owner on the head—who, in turn,
if you please, turned out to be that very ruler
who abandoned his city half a year ago…
I know, I know, these are all fantasies. But
with just such a fantasy they swept me aside.
There, Ella sleeps. It’s also time for me…
The chill strokes, creeps up my back… But
it’s a shame, Dandilio, that the imaginary
thief did not destroy the made-up king!…
You laugh? Do I joke well?
DANDILIO:
Yes, poor Ganus!
He was unlucky…
TREMENS:
What do you mean—Ganus?
DANDILIO:
Well, he received the letter… Ella told me…
How well the poor girl sleeps… Klian,
cover her feet with something…
TREMENS:
Listen, listen,
Dandilio, perhaps amongst your antique toys,
your dusty knick-knacks, your magic books,
you have half a dozen good warm shirts?
Lend them to me…
DANDILIO:
I would have given them
to you sooner, but they would have been
too small for you… What is it you want to say?
TREMENS:
Once, Dandilio, we were friends, we argued
about art… Then I became a widower…
Then the revolt—the first one—enthralled me,
and we met less frequently… I am not inclined
to idle sentimentality, but in the name
of that distant friendship, I ask you,
tell me clearly, what do you know of the King!…
DANDILIO:
What, have you not understood? It was all
so simple. Once, four years ago, having
come to your house, I lingered in the hall
amongst the coat-hangers, in the rough darkness,
and two people entered; I heard their quick
whispers: “My sovereign, it is dangerous, he is
an unrestrained rebel…” The other laughed
in response and whispered: “You wait downstairs,
I won’t be long.” And again quiet laughter…
I hid. After a minute, he left and, slapping
his glove, ran down the stairs—your carefree guest…
TREMENS:
I recall… of course… How did I not connect…
DANDILIO:
You were immersed in dusky thoughts. I kept
sil
ent. We saw each other rarely: I don’t like
cold and gloomy people. But I remembered…
Four years passed—I still remembered; and then,
when I met Morn at those recent parties,
I recognized the laughter of the King… Then,
when on the day of the duel you substituted…
TREMENS:
Wait, wait, you noticed that too?
DANDILIO:
Yes,
my eyes have grown used to chance details
in diligently tracing the trails of little beetles
and the scratches on the surface of antique
furniture, of peeling paint, the specks of dust
on nameless canvases.
TREMENS:
And you kept silent!
DANDILIO:
Of the two hearts, dearer to me was his
whose passion was keener. There is a third heart:
look—with what sorrow and tenderness,
not characteristic of him, does Klian
gaze on dreaming Ella, as though his fear
has gone to sleep with her…
TREMENS:
O, it amuses me
that, secretly from me, my very thought
and will had been at work, that after all,
I myself, with my own hand, sent death,
albeit an illusive one, to the King!
And secretly, I was not mistaken in Ganus:
he was the blind weapon of a blind man…
I don’t complain! With a cold curiosity
I examine those cunning patterns—causes
and consequences—upon the bright blade
placed against my chest… I am happy
that, even for a moment, I taught people
the sweet anarchy of destruction… No,
my lesson will not pass without a trace!
That is to say, there is no thought, no
momentary weakness, which does not
reveal itself in a future action: the King
will clearly deceive again…
KLIAN:
You’ve woken up?
Sleep, Ella, sleep. It’s frightening to think,
Ella…
TREMENS:
O, it amuses me! If I had known
all this, I would have shouted to the people:
“Your king is a weak and shallow man. There is
no fairy tale, there’s only Morn!”
DANDILIO:
Don’t,
Tremens, be quiet…
ELLA:
Morn and… the King?
Is that what you said, father? The King in a blue
carriage,—no, not that… I danced with Morn—
no… wait… Morn…
DANDILIO:
Enough, he was joking…
TREMENS:
Klian, keep quiet, don’t sob!… Listen, Ella…
DANDILIO:
Ella, can you hear us?
TREMENS:
Is her heart beating?
DANDILIO:
Yes. It will pass soon.
TREMENS:
Her eyes are open…
She can see. Ella! A pillar of salt… I didn’t
know such fainting fits were possible…
KLIAN:
Voices!
In the street… It’s them!
TREMENS:
Yes. We were expecting them…
Let’s have a look…
[Opens the window. VOICES can be heard from the street below.]
FIRST VOICE:
… the house.
SECOND VOICE:
Right! He can’t get out.
Do we have all the exits?
FIRST VOICE:
All of them…
TREMENS:
May as well close it…
[Closes the window.]
KLIAN [rushing around]:
Save me… quickly…
Dandilio… anywhere… I want to live… quick…
if only there was time… Ah!
[Rushes out of the room through the door on the right.]
TREMENS:
Could this be the end?
DANDILIO:
Yes, it seems so.
TREMENS:
I’ll go out to them,
so Ella doesn’t see. What do you feed
this orange bird?
DANDILIO:
He likes little ants’ eggs,
raisins… Nice, isn’t he? You know, try
the attic, and then the roof…
TREMENS:
No, I’ll go.
I’m tired…
[He goes towards the door, opens it, but the CAPTAIN and four of his SOLDIERS push him back into the room.]
CAPTAIN:
Stop! Get back!
TREMENS:
Yes, yes—
I am Tremens; but let’s talk in the street…
CAPTAIN:
Get back. There.
[to a SOLDIER]
Search both of them.
[to DANDILIO]
Your name?
DANDILIO:
There, you’ve spilled my tobacco, oh dear!
Who looks for a man’s name in his snuffbox?
May I offer you some?
CAPTAIN:
Are you the master here?
DANDILIO:
Indeed.
CAPTAIN:
And who is this?
DANDILIO:
A sick girl.
CAPTAIN:
You shouldn’t have concealed a criminal here…
TREMENS [with a yawn]:
I ran in here by chance.
CAPTAIN:
Are you Tremens, the rebel?
TREMENS:
I want to sleep. Hurry…
CAPTAIN:
By the order issued
by the senate today, the nineteenth of June,
you are here and now to be… Hey! There is
someone else in there.
[to the SOLDIERS]
Hold them.
I’ll take a look…
[Leaves by the door on the right. TREMENS and DANDILIO talk amongst themselves, surrounded by mute, almost lifeless SOLDIERS.]
TREMENS:
How he dawdles…
I want to sleep.
DANDILIO:
Yes, we shall soon sleep well…
TREMENS:
We? Please, they will not touch you.
Do you fear death?
DANDILIO:
I love all this: shadows,
light, the specks of dust in a ray of sunshine;
these pools of light on the floor; and large books
that smell of time. Death is curious, I don’t
dispute…
TREMENS:
Ella’s like a doll… What’s wrong with her?
DANDILIO:
Yes, this won’t do.
[to a SOLDIER]
Listen to me, my brother,
take this sick girl here to the bedroom, and after
we’ll send for the doctor. What, are you deaf?
TREMENS:
Leave him. It’s not necessary. They’ll dispatch me,
somewhere to the side,—she won’t even see.
Dandilio, you spoke of the sun… It’s strange,
it seems to me we are alike, but in what way
I cannot comprehend… Let’s settle it now.
Do you accept death?
DANDILIO:
Yes. Matter must decay
for matter to be resurrected—and from that,
the Trinity is clear to me. In what way?
Space is God, and matter is Jesus, and time
is the Holy Ghost. Hence my conclusion:
a world made up of these three,—our world—
is divine…
TREMENS:
Yes, continue.
DANDILIO:
Do you hear
what trampling there is in my rooms? Thos
e
are boots!
TREMENS:
All the same, our world…
DANDILIO:
… is divine;
and therefore all is happiness; and so we must
all sing as we work: to live in this world
means to work for the master in three forms:
space, matter, and time. But the work ends
and we depart to the eternal feast, having
given our memory to time, our image
to space, and our love to matter.
TREMENS:
You see—
fundamentally I agree. But I don’t need
the slavery of happiness. I rebel,
rebel against the master! Do you hear!
I call on all to drop their work! Head off
to the eternal feast: there in blissful
abysses we will rest.
DANDILIO:
They’ve caught him. A cry.
TREMENS:
I had forgotten Klian…
[KLIAN bursts in from the right.]
KLIAN:
Ah! A trap!
They’re here too!
[Flings himself back into the room on the right.]
ELLA [raising herself up]:
Morn… Morn… Morn…
It is as though I heard a voice in my sleep:
Morn is the King…
[Becomes still again.]
VOICE OF CAPTAIN [in the room to the right, the door of which remains open]:
Enough of this rushing
around the rooms!
VOICE OF KLIAN:
I beg you…
VOICE OF CAPTAIN:
Your name!
VOICE OF KLIAN:
I beg you… I am young… I am so young!
I am great, I am a genius! They don’t
kill geniuses!…
VOICE OF CAPTAIN
Answer the question!
VOICE OF KLIAN:
My name is Klian… But I will serve the King…
I swear… I know where the crown is… I’ll give it
back… I swear…
VOICE OF CAPTAIN:
Stop grabbing at my calves,
I’ll shoot a hole in my boot.
VOICE OF KLIAN:
Have merc— …!
[A gunshot. TREMENS and DANDILIO, surrounded by motionless SOLDIERS, continue their conversation.]
TREMENS:
Space is God, you say. Excellent. That is
the explanation for wings, those wings with which
we populate heaven…
VOICE OF KLIAN:
Ah!… There is no end,
no end…
VOICE OF CAPTAIN:
He’s full of life, the wretch.
DANDILIO:
Yes.
We are stirred by swift flights, by wheels, sails,
and—in childhood—by games and, in our youth,
by dances.
[…][1]
Scene II
[MORN and EDMIN with the FOREIGNER and other GUESTS.]
[MORN]:
[…]*[2]
Those killed by a bullet to the heart ought not
to be beaten by gossip’s petty pellets…
This evening will be blue, like three hundred
July days, condensed and thickened into darkness,