Rimbaud

ACT ONE

SCENE 1

HOSPITAL OF THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION. MARSEILLES.

AUGUST 1891

SISTER(A NUN/NURSE)AND ISABELLE RIMBAUD(A PLAINLY DRESSED WOMAN OF ABOUT 30) stand over ARTHUR RIMBAUD(AGED 37 BUT LOOKING OLDER)who lies in bed.

RIMBAUD CALLS OUT AND THRASHES ABOUT THROUGHOUT THE WOMEN'S CONVERSATION.

SISTER: I'll be needing some details from you, dear. Name?

ISABELLE: Isabelle Rimbaud.

RIMBAUD: (LOUDLY) Item. One cured hide!

SISTER: Not yours, dear, his.

ISABELLE: Oh. Sorry. Arthur Rimbaud…

SISTER: Husband?

RIMBAUD: Item. Four packages of musk!

ISABELLE: Oh no. I'm not married. This is my brother.

SISTER: His age?

ISABELLE: He's thirty-six. Thirty-seven in October.

RIMBAUD: Item. Three tusks!

SISTER: And where is it he lives, dear?

ISABELLE: We're from the north. Charleville. And we have a farm at Roche.

RIMBAUD: Item. Four tusks!

SISTER: (To RIMBAUD LOUDLY) Holy Mary, quieten down there, I can't hear myself think. (To ISABELLE) And what's wrong with your brother?

ISABELLE: (SURPRISED) Well, as you can see, he's had his leg amputated.

SISTER: Whereabouts?

ISABELLE: Just below the hip joint.

SISTER: (RAISING HER EYES TO HEAVEN) I meant which hospital dear? Somewhere in the north?

ISABELLE: Sorry. No, it was here, in Marseilles. A few months ago.

RIMBAUD: Item. Five packs of coffee!

SISTER: (PUZZLED) Well, why have you brought him back?

ISABELLE: He wants to return to Africa. He's in business there. He's a trader.

SISTER: (LOOKING AT ISABELLE AS IF SHE IS MAD) But my dear, this man is delirious. He's in no fit state to travel to Africa. Holy Mary. Africa!

ISABELLE: (QUIETLY SO THAT RIMBAUD WON'T HEAR) I know that. But he… he's determined to go. (SIGHS) Oh I know it's madness. The train journey from Roche has made him far worse. That's why I've brought him here. He wanted me just to ship him straight off to Aden.

RIMBAUD: Take a letter! To the steamship company. Dear Sir, I am completely paralysed. I wish to be carried aboard early.

SISTER: (To RIMBAUD LOUDLY) SHUSH!

(To ISABELLE) He can't be travelling anywhere, the state he's in. I'll get him comfy and the doctor'll be along later.

ISABELLE STANDS BACK AND TAKES OUT A HANDKERCHIEF. SHE MOPS FIRST HER OWN BROW AND THEN RIMBAUD'S.

RIMBAUD: Devils! Swine! Stop it!

RIMBAUD PUSHES ISABELLE AWAY.

SISTER: Now now! Calm yourself down, man! Mother of God, he's a terrible violent fellow.

RIMBAUD: Bollocks to God. And his Mother!

SISTER AND ISABELLE BOTH STEP BACK SHOCKED AND CROSS THEMSELVES.

SISTER: Will you listen to that? Holy Mary, I'll have to give him a sedative. I can't be doing with such obscenities.

ISABELLE: Oh he doesn't mean it, Sister. Don't think badly of him, please. It's the pain. He's in such dreadful pain.

RIMBAUD: Pain? What do you know about pain? Oh vile bastard God for doing this to me!

ISABELLE TURNS AWAY EMBARRASSED. SISTER CROSSES HERSELF AGAIN.

SISTER: I'll give him that sedative right now.

SISTER PREPARES SEDATIVE AND ADMINISTERS IT, PULLING RIMBAUD'S HEAD BACK AND TIPPING IT DOWN HIS THROAT WITH SOME SATISFACTION.

SISTER: There. That'll shut him up.

RIMBAUD: Bitches. Devils. Evil whores.

SISTER: Now, I'm afraid I'll have to leave you alone with him for a while, dear. But you come and get me if you need anything. I'll tell the doctor what's going on, don't you worry.

ISABELLE: Thank you, Sister.

SISTER EXITS.

SCENE 2

ISABELLE REMAINS WHILE RIMBAUD CONTINUES TO RANT.

RIMBAUD: Swine. Bastards. Torturers! Oh God help me.

RIMBAUD CONTINUES TO MURMUR AND GROAN QUIETLY WHILE ISABELLE PICKS UP A BIBLE FROM THE BEDSIDE TABLE AND READS.

AFTER A SHORT WHILE RIMBAUD BEGINS TO SPEAK IN A MUCH QUIETER, GENTLER TONE BUT WITH A SENSE OF URGENCY.

RIMBAUD: Oh come on...! The caravans are leaving. Get ready, it's time to go... (PAUSE) Come on! Saddle up the horses!

ISABELLE LOOKS UP FROM HER BIBLE AND WATCHES HIM SADLY.

RIMBAUD: My goods have to be delivered! Everyone relies on me... (DISTRESSED) My reputation...

RIMBAUD STRUGGLES TO LEAN FORWARD. ISABELLE PUTS DOWN HER BIBLE.

ISABELLE: Shsh. Lie back, Arthur. Don't disturb yourself.

RIMBAUD: (DISTRACTEDLY) What? Where am I? Djami. Djami. (HE CLUTCHES AT HER)

ISABELLE: No, Arthur… It's me. Isabelle… You're back in the hospital. You left Abyssinia some months ago. Don't you remember?

RIMBAUD: Hospital? Oh. (PAUSE) Oh God.

RIMBAUD SINKS BACK.

RIMBAUD: (RAMBLING BUT WITH POETIC EFFECT) We must set off soon, Djami. There's work to be done. Time drags on. (PAUSE) Do you remember the time we went into Shoa? (PAUSE) The way we saddled up the horses... the harnesses gleaming... the sun blazing down on us. I can feel the heat now, Djami. I can see the shadeless desert, can you see it, Djami? Can you see it?

LIGHT ON DJAMI SQUATTING TO ONE SIDE OF THE STAGE. HE IS COUNTING SMALL ITEMS (EG BEADS ETC) FROM A PILE IN FRONT OF HIM INTO A POUCH. HE IS NOT AWARE OF RIMBAUD.

RIMBAUD: Do you remember how we travelled. How many days we rode in such harsh conditions. (BITTERLY) And for what outcome? I barely made back my expenses. (MORE URGENTLY) ...But I would go back. I would be there now...

HE CLUTCHES AT ISABELLE AGAIN.

ISABELLE: I was not there Arthur, it was some other. I've been nowhere…

RIMBAUD: …And the nights, cold under the stars, bivouacked in the dunes. the sweat cooling on our bodies, do you remember, Djami… do you remember? (PAUSE) We'll organize another camel train. Transport the goods to the interior. I'll make up my losses. You'll see. Oh but I've made so many mistakes…

LIGHT OFF DJAMI.

ISABELLE: There’s no point in worrying about all that now, my dearest.

SHE STROKES HIS HEAD.

RIMBAUD: My goods. My good name. I must go back.

ISABELLE: Arthur, that's impossible. For the moment, anyway. When you are better, then you can go back.

RIMBAUD: Ah Isabelle. I'm so weary.

RIMBAUD STRUGGLES AGAIN TO SIT UP. HE SLAPS HIS LEG VIOLENTLY.

RIMBAUD: Damn this wretched stump! Why did I ever let them amputate?

ISABELLE: My poor dear brother. I know it must be dreadful for you.

RIMBAUD: (BITTERLY HIS VOICE RISING AS HE GOES ON) How can you possibly know what it's like? Night after night… no sleep… brain numb with tiredness… tossing… turning… and all the time knowing I'll never be well. (PAUSE - THEN HE GOES ON MORE QUIETLY) …that this agony will never cease… except in death…

ISABELLE: (A LITTLE SHARPLY) I do know how hard it is for you, believe me, I do understand… I can see that you're suffering… and it distresses me beyond words. But you must practise acceptance. We both must. It's God's will.

RIMBAUD: God? Hah! God! What god would do this to a man? What god? Eh? What demon? Yes, devil more like! (SCORNFULLY) God! This to your God!

RIMBAUD MAKES AN OBSCENE GESTURE THEN SLUMPS BACK EXHAUSTED.

ISABELLE: Arthur, please! You've already upset the Sister.

ISABELLE LOOKS OVER HER SHOULDER TO SEE IF HE HAS BEEN HEARD THEN GOES ON.

You mustn't blaspheme... Don't you realise what a terrible sin it is?

RIMBAUD: Committed worse blasphemy in my time. Worse sins. What sins are left me now? Gestures, that's all. (RUEFULLY) No longer able to commit real sins.

RIMBAUD LIES BACK EXHAUSTED AND IS SILENT FOR A MOMENT.

RIMBAUD: Oh God, you've certainly had the last laugh on me…

ISABELLE: Take Holy Communion, Arthur… Please. For my sake.

RIMBAUD: It's no use Isabelle, I'm past redemption.

ISABELLE: (PASSIONATELY) No, no… that's not so. Even the greatest sinner can be redeemed.

RIMBAUD: (FORCEFULLY) But I don't desire redemption. It's meaningless. Hell has no power over pagans. (PAUSE) Hah! But then I am not a pagan, am I? I'm a slave to my baptism. I am eternally damned.

RIMBAUD TOSSES AND TURNS RESTLESSLY.

ISABELLE: (FIRMLY) You are only damned if you refuse God. (SOFTENING) Oh you're distressing yourself with all this talk. Lie still. Hush now.

RIMBAUD: Poor Isabelle. Sitting there day after tedious day with a helpless whining invalid…

ISABELLE: (WISTFULLY) I am more than happy to look after you, Arthur.

Looking after you gives meaning to my life. I have done nothing… been nowhere… and I've so enjoyed hearing your stories… of your adventures… What else do I have?

RIMBAUD: If only I could walk without those damned crutches… get around… fend for myself.

ISABELLE: Try not to become bitter, Arthur.

RIMBAUD: Don't I have a right to be bitter, when I can't even get out of bed without assistance?

ISABELLE: If you would only see a priest… You would be much calmer if you would submit yourself to God.

RIMBAUD: (MORE QUIETLY) Isabelle… I'm a lost cause. You're wasting your time on me. But there… (HE TAKES HER HAND) I'm glad you're wasting it. You're a great comfort to me. And I do appreciate what you do for me. I do.

ISABELLE: (HALF TO HERSELF) God was my refuge… All those years… at home… working on the farm… helping Mother… God can be your refuge too.

RIMBAUD SHAKES HIS HEAD.

ISABELLE: A life of toil and tedium. How could I have borne it without God?

RIMBAUD: I can't imagine how you stood it.

PAUSE - ISABELLE PICKS UP BIBLE AGAIN.

ISABELLE: (WITH A TENTATIVE SMILE) One of my first memories of you is your first Communion. Do you remember?

RIMBAUD: How could I forget?

ISABELLE: (SHYLY) I was only a tiny girl. But I was impressed by your piety. I looked up to you… my big brother.

OLDER RIMBAUD COVERS HIS FACE WITH HIS HANDS AND GROANS.

ISABELLE: You were filled with the love of God in those days, Arthur.

RIMBAUD: I was filled with contempt for all I saw around me. Children are so often misunderstood.

ISABELLE: Now, you know that's not true! Even Mother remarks on how pious you were as a little boy. She could never understand what made you change.

RIMBAUD: I grew up.

ISABELLE: I've grown up too, but I still believe.

RIMBAUD: You're a woman.

ISABELLE: Oh that's nonsense! Men believe too. Mother says it was when you started running away from home.

RIMBAUD: You talked about me? You and Mother?

ISABELLE: Of course. We were always worried about you. So far away in Abyssinia. It sounded so dreadful. Your letters made us weep.

RIMBAUD: (IN DISBELIEF) Mother wept?

ISABELLE: Your descriptions of the hardships you had to undergo… they would have broken the hardest of hearts.

RIMBAUD: They would have had to, for Mother to be affected.

ISABELLE: Oh now Arthur… don't be so hard on her.

RIMBAUD: I thought she might have changed, you know. After all these years. I thought she might have softened.

ISABELLE: She wanted to get closer to you, and to help look after you, but you kept driving her away. Chasing her off with… well… (SHE LOWERS HER VOICE) …obscenities.

RIMBAUD: Am I dreadful sometimes? To you?

ISABELLE: Oh I don't mind. I know you don't mean it. It's only because you're suffering so much.

RIMBAUD: I’m sorry.

THEY HOLD HANDS AND SMILE AT EACH OTHER.

RIMBAUD: We've a lot of time to make up. All those years apart. We hardly know each other.

ISABELLE: (SHYLY) I've enjoyed renewing our acquaintance. I know so little about you. Only what you told us in your letters. But what about when you first left home? When you went to Paris. You’ve never told me about that.

RIMBAUD: Oh Paris! The less said about that the better.

ISABELLE: Didn't you know some famous people there? Writers?

RIMBAUD: I don't want to talk about it.

ISABELLE LEANS FORWARD EAGERLY.

ISABELLE: Mother says you used to write yourself. Poetry. She says it was…

RIMBAUD: …rubbish. Yes, and she'd be right.

ISABELLE: No… it's just that she didn't understand it.

RIMBAUD: It was all nonsense. Immature scribblings.

ISABELLE: I’d love to hear some of it.

RIMBAUD: I'm no longer interested in all that.

ISABELLE: Then tell me about your life in Paris. I know nothing at all about that time.

RIMBAUD: No…

ISABELLE: Who did you meet there? Which writers? Would I have heard of them?

RIMBAUD: Isabelle! I'm tired. I need to rest now. (QUIETLY BUT WITH DISGUST) Paris! Hah!

RIMBAUD TURNS HIS HEAD AWAY. ISABELLE SLUMPS BACK DISAPPOINTED.

BLACKOUT.

SCENE 3

YOUNG RIMBAUD(Age 17)AND VERLAINE(Age 27)

A GARRET ROOM. PARIS 1871/2

LIGHT UP ON YOUNG RIMBAUD WHO SITS AT THE TABLE WRITING. VERLAINE FACES FRONT AS IF LOOKING OUT OF AN ATTIC WINDOW. AFTER A MOMENT HE SPEAKS.

VERLAINE: (POETICALLY) The rain falls softly on the town.

YNG RIMBAUD LOOKS UP. HE PUTS DOWN HIS PEN, STANDS UP AND CROSSES TO WINDOW. HE PUTS HIS ARM ACROSS VERLAINE'S SHOULDER.

YNG RIMBAUD: (COMPLETING THE POEM) The rain falls softly… in my heart.

THEY TURN TO LOOK AT EACH OTHER AND SMILE. AFTER A MOMENT THEY SEPARATE. YNG RIMBAUD SITS DOWN AT THE TABLE AGAIN AND CONTINUES WRITING. VERLAINE REMAINS STANDING FOR A SHORT TIME THEN WANDERS ACROSS TO THE TABLE AND PICKS UP SOME OF RIMBAUD’S PAPERS AND LOOKS AT THEM.

VERLAINE: Anything good?

YNG RIMBAUD: (WITHOUT LOOKING UP) I think so.

AFTER ANOTHER MOMENT HE STOPS WRITING, STANDS UP, STRETCHES AND TAKES THE PAPERS FROM VERLAINE.

YNG RIMBAUD: I'll read them to you. They need to be read out loud.

VERLAINE SITS DOWN ON THE DIVAN.

YNG RIMBAUD: (COUGHS) Illuminations. By Arthur Rimbaud.

VERLAINE SMILES INDULGENTLY.

YNG RIMBAUD: (READS QUIETLY)

Reviving a pleasant taste of Chinese ink,

a black powder rains softly on my vigil.

I lower the jets of the chandelier,

I throw myself on my bed and,

turning towards the shadows,

I see you, my daughters! My queens! Read Original

VERLAINE NODS SILENTLY.

YNG RIMBAUD: Here's another.

The high pond smokes continuously.

What witch will rise up against the white sunset?

What violet foliage will fall? (PAUSE) Read Original

What do you think?

VERLAINE: They're beautiful.

YNG RIMBAUD: (WITH FALSE MODESTY AND A TOUCH OF MISCHIEF) As good as yours? That's all I aspire to. To be as great a poet as the Master. Paul Verlaine!

VERLAINE: (LAUGHING) They may even be better than mine. Bastard!

YNG RIMBAUD THROWS HIMSELF DOWN ON THE DIVAN NEXT TO VERLAINE.

YNG RIMBAUD: Do they convey my ecstasy? My inner vision? Does it come across?

VERLAINE: Perfectly. My little mystic.

VERLAINE STROKES YNG RIMBAUD'S ARM.

YNG RIMBAUD: One more.

I have hung ropes from steeple to
steeple,

garlands from window to window;

golden chains from star to star,

and I dance. Read Original

THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER AFFECTIONATELY. THEN YNG RIMBAUD PUSHES VERLAINE BACK ONTO THE DIVAN AND HOLDS HIM DOWN. VERLAINE PUSHES BACK PLAYFULLY. THERE IS A TUSSLE. THE PAPERS ARE SCATTERED ABOUT. YNG RIMBAUD ENDS UP ON THE FLOOR WITH VERLAINE ON TOP AS THE VICTOR. AFTER A MOMENT VERLAINE RELEASES YNG RIMBAUD AND THEY BOTH STAND UP.

VERLAINE: (SMOOTHING HIS HAIR) Fancy a drink?

YNG RIMBAUD: (FLAMBOYANTLY) Ah ‘tis the emerald hour. Time to drive ourselves mad with absinthe!

HE STARTS COLLECTING UP HIS PAPERS.

VERLAINE: Come on then.

VERLAINE PICKS UP A LONG SCARF AND WINDS IT AROUND HIS NECK. YNG RIMBAUD PUTS ON A BATTERED TOP HAT.

YNG RIMBAUD: What was it that bastard Lepelletier wrote last week? …Paul Verlaine had on his arm a most charming young thing…

VERLAINE: …a certain Miss Rimbaud… Come on then, let's give him something else to write about.

VERLAINE OFFERS HIS ARM TO YNG RIMBAUD WHO TAKES IT AND THEY MINCE EXAGGERATEDLY OFF STAGE.

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