The Literati Read online

  The Literati was first produced by Griffin Theatre Company and Bell Shakespeare at the SBW Stables Theatre, Sydney, on 27 May 2016, with the following cast:

  PHILOMENA / VADIUS Caroline Brazier

  TRISTAN TOSSER Gareth Davies

  AMANDA Kate Mulvany

  CHRISTOPHER / CLINTON Jamie Oxenbould

  JULIET / MARTINA Miranda Tapsell

  Director, Lee Lewis

  Co-Composers and Sound Designers, Max Lambert and Roger Lock

  Designer, Sophie Fletcher

  Lighting Designer, Verity Hampson

  Stage Manager, Charlotte Barrett

  The author wishes to thank John Azarias, Patricia Azarias, Mike Baird, John Bell, Bell Shakespeare Company, Botanic Gardens and Centennial Parklands, Fae Brauer, Melanie Carolan, Currency Press, Andrea Demetriades, Gale Edwards, Kim Ellis, Peter Evans, Claire Grady, Griffin Theatre Company, Will Harvey, Lee Lewis, The Lysicrates Foundation, Dominic Perrottet, Lane Pitcher, Morgan Powell, Fiona Press, David Stewart, Rob Stokes, Christopher Stollery and Ben Winspear.

  For Fiona Press, in loving memory of The Prince.

  CHARACTERS

  CHRISTOPHER, a decent middle-class man

  PHILOMENA, his wife

  AMANDA, their elder daughter

  JULIET, their younger daughter

  CLINTON, Juliet’s lover

  TRISTAN TOSSER, a poet

  DOCTOR ATHÉNAÏS VADIUS, a female scholar

  MARTINA, a kitchen maid

  ATTORNEY, female

  SETTING

  A house in Paris.

  PLAYWRIGHT’S NOTES

  In this version, the names of the characters are also ‘translated’ so as to be more Anglophonic.

  A note on Vadius: In this version, Vadius is female, and I have drawn upon Francoise Athénaïs, marquise of Montespan (1641–1707), a well-educated woman of famous and considerable wit. She was referred to usually as ‘Athénaïs’ (the Greek goddess of Wisdom). She was chief mistress of King Louis XIV of France, and was a good friend to Molière whom she allowed to use her apartments to rehearse. In ‘Love and Louis XIV’, Antonia Fraser describes her as ‘astonishingly beautiful, at once sexy and imperious. This voluptuousness makes plausible at least one story by which Louis plotted to spy on her at her bath disguised as a servant; awestruck, he gave away his presence, at which Athénaïs laughingly dropped her towel.’

  A note on the rhyme scheme: Though Molière used rhyming couplets throughout, his audience was used to them, and in French they have less intensity. For variety’s sake, and to give themes their breathing space, in scenes on lofty pretentiousness, the rhyming couplets are used (AABB). When the subject is love, the rhymes are on alternate lines (ABAB). And for wisdom and true scholarship, the rhymes fall on the first and fourth lines, and the second and third lines (ABBA).

  – JF

  This play went to press before the end of rehearsals and may differ from the play as performed.

  ACT ONE

  SCENE ONE

  AMANDA, JULIET.

  AMANDA:

  What? You mean you’d give up your cool and carefree life

  As a happy single girl, to be a bitter and twisted wife?

  Why risk everything on marriage? You’d be better off dead.

  Can such a gross little plan really have entered your head?

  JULIET:

  Yes.

  AMANDA:

  Who’d have thought, my dear sister, that the simple word ‘Yes’

  Could fill the heart with utter disgust and absolute awfulness?

  JULIET:

  Okay: what is it about marriage itself that puts you in a bind?

  Surely it’s a natural goal to leave maidenhood behind?

  AMANDA:

  Oh my God! Get real!

  JULIET:

  What?

  AMANDA:

  I mean, get a grip, Janet.

  JULIET:

  My name’s not Janet.

  AMANDA:

  Juliet—you’re on some other planet!

  Doesn’t it make you shudder? Dear sister, come to your senses!

  Could you ever resign your heart to such hideous consequences?

  JULIET:

  The consequences of ‘marriage’, Amanda, as far as I can tell,

  Are a husband, some children and a home in which to dwell.

  AMANDA:

  For heaven’s sake! So being in a straightjacket appeals to you?

  JULIET:

  One has to ask at my age, if there’s anything better to do

  Than attach yourself to a husband, for whose company you yearn,

  A man who loves you madly, and you love in return?

  For a couple so well-matched, surely this bond is enchanting?

  AMANDA:

  You’ve sunk to a new low there. My God, girl, you’re ranting.

  The world’s a major stage, and you settle for a minor role,

  Locking yourself away in some domestic little hole,

  Never to glimpse life’s pleasures, becoming an emotional cripple,

  With an idol for a husband and a brat on every nipple.

  It’s not for you, those basic chores, cleaning, washing, dusting:

  Leave all that to people who are vulgar and disgusting.

  Hold in contempt the material world, that sense of daily grind,

  And devote yourself, as I do, entirely to things of the mind.

  You have our mother for a role model, so cultured and discerning,

  Who is hailed by the literati as a woman of higher learning,

  So prove that you’re her daughter! Do try it! It worked for me.

  Aspire to the dazzling heights which illuminate our family;

  Render yourself learnèd! And check out science and art;

  Feel the power that a love of study pumps into the heart;

  Forget being a grovelling slave, where a man’s rules are the norm;

  Marry yourself to philosophy, and take the world by storm!

  Taste the beautiful fires, the music of the spheres,

  And live life’s every moment in the realm of perfect ideas.

  JULIET:

  Live your life in the stars, let your genius take flight,

  Ascend the highest heaven of literature and light.

  But as for me, I’ll settle for marriage and all of its charms;

  Some of us are born with wings, the rest of us have arms.

  So in our separate lives, in one way or another,

  Both of us will do our best to emulate our mother.

  You will be that side of her up there with the high-fliers,

  While I will be her common sense with more mundane desires;

  You will delve into clever books and enjoy scholarly chatter

  And I’ll take care, my sister, of the little things that matter.

  AMANDA:

  I’m sorry, Jules, but that is just a load of utter twaddle;

  When you decide to imitate the life of your role model,

  You aim to resemble her finer points—her talents and her wits,

  You don’t model yourself on how the woman coughs and spits.

  JULIET:

  But you would not be here, with all of your boastful pride,

  If mother had only pursued her intellectual side;

  How fortunate that her flair for the analytical and the quizzical

  Occasionally took a break, so she could focus on the physical.

  For heaven’s sake, out of fairness, concede that I might be right

  To enjoy those mortal pleasures which brought you into the light.

  AMANDA:

  Well, I see that your so-called mind is incapable of disinfection,

  As you insist with mule-headed madness that marriage
is perfection.

  But might we know, if you’d be so good, who your husband will be?

  I mean, you haven’t set your narrow sights on Clinton, surely?

  JULIET:

  Why shouldn’t I? Is Clint unworthy? Is he somehow a bad plan?

  AMANDA:

  No. But it’s a pretty low act to steal someone else’s man,

  As it’s no secret that Clinton always had the hots for me.

  JULIET:

  Yes, but all his advances just appealed to your vanity,

  As you never let him kiss you or do anything remotely tender,

  And you made it clear a wedding was simply not on the agenda.

  Philosophy was your lover, as you announced without pretence;

  You felt nothing for Clint, so how can you now take offence?

  AMANDA:

  Just because I reject as husband a man who’s clearly desirous

  Doesn’t mean he shouldn’t remain on the queue of my admirers.

  JULIET:

  I never tried to stop him from worshipping your perfection,

  But when you gave him the flick, I accepted his affection.

  AMANDA:

  But an offer of love from a jilted man is risky, haven’t you found?

  Can you believe in passion thrust at you on the rebound?

  And are you sure that the wild desire he had for me is dead?

  JULIET:

  Yes, I am, Amanda, because that’s exactly what he said.

  AMANDA:

  Believe that, you’d believe anything; you’re so easy to deceive.

  He’s fooling himself that he left me for you; my dear, you are naïve.

  JULIET:

  One of us is wrong, and the other is clearly right;

  Here he comes, right on cue, to shed much-needed light.

  SCENE TWO

  CLINTON, AMANDA, JULIET.

  JULIET:

  Clint, we’ve got a problem here; maybe you might help us out?

  My sister just threw me the line that, when push comes to shove,

  The content of your heart is a matter for serious doubt;

  So please explain: is it she or I who is entitled to your love?

  AMANDA:

  No, no—I’m not going to be part of some rigorous interrogation

  By subjecting someone’s private feelings to public expression;

  I know how to treat people, and they hate the situation

  Where they have to make, face to face, an embarrassing confession.

  CLINTON:

  Tell me which part of this you simply don’t get:

  Every nerve in my body, every feeling in my heart

  And every thought of love I have is for adorable Juliet.

  I was attracted to you, sure, right from the very start:

  You swept me off my feet and opened my heart like a surgeon,

  Which was ample proof, I’d say, that your arrow had hit its target;

  I had a roaring flame for you, but you’re as tough as an Amish virgin,

  And in your eyes, as a conquest, I wasn’t sufficiently upmarket.

  He looks at JULIET.

  My dream of someone more human came true when I saw these eyes,

  In them was something precious, which I knew I’d value forever;

  They had a healing kindness, with no deception or lies,

  She welcomed what you rejected, was wise where you were clever.

  So rare is her goodness that I was totally captured

  And until the day I die, I never want to be set free,

  So read my lips, Mandy: with you I’m no longer enraptured,

  And don’t you even think about trying to rekindle me.

  AMANDA:

  In your dreams.

  JULIET:

  Lighten up, Mandy. What happened to your eloquent notion

  Of superior reason to moderate the animal within,

  And control the bridle to keep a check on the forces of raw emotion?

  AMANDA:

  As you don’t practise what you preach, your words wear pretty thin.

  You choose the love offered you, without consulting either parent;

  They have authority over your heart; you must have their permission;

  Yet you love a man they haven’t approved, which a daughter daren’t,

  And bypassing their consent to marry is a criminal omission.

  JULIET:

  Clint, will you take steps to obtain my parents’ consent,

  To ensure that my wishes are given full and legitimate force;

  Then I’ll be given a license to love you, without criminal intent.

  CLINTON:

  I’ll work with all my heart to achieve all that, of course.

  I was only waiting for you to give me the green light.

  AMANDA:

  I detect an element of triumph in your facial expression

  As if you imagine your happiness will flood me with spite.

  JULIET:

  Me? Not at all. What on earth gave you that impression?

  I know that dispassionate analysis is uppermost in your mind

  And that because of all the principles afforded by higher learning,

  You’re way beyond spite or envy, which are gross and unrefined;

  In fact, far from believing that the lady’s not for turning,

  I actually think you can help me, by condescending to our plane

  And giving our relationship your weighty vote of support,

  Helping to plan our happy day, choosing flowers and champagne;

  I’m recruiting you, dear sister, and the first thing you ought …

  AMANDA:

  You must be joking, Juliet! Are you out of your tiny mind?

  You’re being awfully cocky about a lover I flung at you!

  CLINTON:

  Look—

  JULIET:

  So he was a reject, to whom you once were inclined,

  And if your eyes are an indication, a love you’d gladly renew.

  You’d happily take him back if it meant grovelling at his feet!

  AMANDA:

  I will not plunge to your level to dignify that observation,

  As I find this entire discourse appallingly indiscreet.

  JULIET:

  How very wise of you to show unprecedented moderation.

  SCENE THREE

  CLINTON, JULIET.

  JULIET:

  Well, your sincere confession really knocked her for six.

  CLINTON:

  Yeah, well she deserved it; she’s as subtle as a ton of bricks.

  Anyway, as soon as possible, I’ll have a chat with your father.

  [Going] So I’ve gotta zip—

  JULIET:

  …For a more certain outcome, I would rather

  You try to win over my mother, because she’s the chief of state;

  Father will agree to anything, so his decisions don’t carry much weight.

  And despite what happened just now, do try to placate my sister,

  She might actually be nice to you, if you put a bandaid on her blister.

  If you find her bitter and flat, your charm will jump-start her battery,

  Because as you know, her Achilles heel is bucketloads of flattery.

  CLINTON:

  Yeah, but I really find flattery hard, because I was born sincere.

  And I like to keep it real, you know, and not put on some veneer,

  I find with clever ladies that it’s sort of insulting to flirt;

  If women want to be scholars, fine; whatever lifts your skirt,

  But: the ones who treat you like fools are unbelievable shockers,

  Like they have to tell the entire world their brain is totally chockers.

  I love a truly erudite woman, without any pomp or pretence

  Who doesn’t have to parade the fact that her knowledge is immense,

  She spreads her knowledge warmly, like light through a prism.

  She doesn�
�t use gigantic words like antidisestablishmentarianism;

  Take the case of your mother: now you know that I respect her,

  But every time she opens her gob, you get a bloody lecture.

  I refuse to be a parrot who just echoes her every word,

  And the praise she heaps on her heroes is totally absurd.

  Like Tristan Tosser, for example; the man bores me to sobs;

  It drives me crazy the way your mother gets off on such knobs.

  The man’s an idiot, a pedant, whose head’s full of total vapour,

  Which is why all his books get pulped and end up as toilet paper.

  JULIET:

  I agree; Tristan’s writings have no style or merit at all;

  To say he’s as thick as a brick is defamatory to a wall,

  But given the great power he exerts over my mother

  It’s difficult to know what to do in this predicament, other

  Than force yourself to regard him with a sort of complacence;

  Because in order to gain favour, a lover has to have patience

  To win the hearts of everyone connected to his love.

  Even wooing the family dog is not something he’s above.

  CLINTON:

  Yes, I know, you’re right, but Tristan Tosser, on the whole,

  Inspires a powerful loathing in the very pit of my soul.

  And to win his support for us, I would never agree

  To praising the works of someone who is so talent-free.

  It was through Tristan’s writing, that I first had word of him,

  Before that, I’m glad to say, I had never heard of him.

  I tried to read his poems. Big mistake. They’re absolute bollocks;

  But it doesn’t stop His Pedanticness going off on literary frolics.

  The unremitting arrogance of the man is pretty breathtaking,

  And his inflated self-confidence is truly groundbreaking.

  JULIET:

  You’ve got pretty good eyes to notice all that with such coherence.

  CLINTON:

  That’s the thing: Tristan’s work matches his appearance.

  Before I saw him I knew he’d look as boring as his writing:

  Deadly dreary, totally suss and majorly unexciting;

  So I subjected my prediction to the strictest test of all:

  Would I be able to pick him out at a writers’ festival?

  And I bet against all odds he was the man coming towards me

  And sure enough that was exactly who he turned out to be.

  JULIET:

  You’re kidding!

  CLINTON:

  No I’m not; I swear to God, I won the bet!