A Port in a Storm (in progress)
by
Jeremy Noble
For Den
Woman, I tell you, is a microcosm; and rightly to rule her, requires
as great talents as to govern a state.
Samuel Foote (1720 – 1777) - The Minor
List of Characters (in order of appearance)
Sir James Harris, Minister Plenipotentiary and Envoy Extraordinary
of the Court of St James’s
Chevalier Marie-Daniel Bourrée de Corberon,
Envoy of King Louis XVI of France
Fanny, servant to Harris
Daniel, coachman to Corberon
Elizabeth, Duchess of Kingston (also Countess of Bristol)
‘Major’ James George Semple
Miss Bate, companion to the Duchess of Kingston
Colonel Mikhail Alexandrovich Garnovsky, aide-de-camp to His Excellency
Prince Grigory
Alexandrovich Potemkin
Alexandra Engelhardt, Maid of Honour to Empress Catherine II, and
niece of His Excellency
Prince Grigory Alexandrovich Potemkin
Count Alessandro di Cagliostro
Countess Cagliostro
Tourist guides, agent-provocateur, a hairdresser, a secretary,
a handsome footman, sailors, guards officers, courtiers, flunkeys
PROLOGUE
The Hermitage, St Petersburg, in the 21st Century. A multitude
of tourists, laden down with the the paraphernalia of technical
triumphs – cameras, videos, museum headphones – crowd around a glass
case; a troupe of bored Russian schoolchildren play pubescent games;
almost nothing can be seen of the exhibit inside, but we hear about
it from a babel of foreign tongues – each guide cut off in mid-sentence
by the next one:
FRENCH GUIDE [waving aloft the tricolour]: Voici
JAPANESE GUIDE [waving the flag of the rising sun]:
RUSSIAN GUIDE [waving the Russian flag]:
AMERICAN GUIDE [waving the stars and stripes]: ... the world-famous
golden Peacock Clock, made in England by James Cox in the late eighteenth-century
it was a gift from one of her many lovers to Catherine the Great.
It chimes every hour, and the peacock’s tail opens but we don’t
have time to wait we have to see the impressionists and then it’s
on to the Yusupov Palace where Rasputin was murdered.
The tourists leave the stage, followed out by the room guard who
turns off the lights. An amateur video film, shot at skewed angles,
zooming in and out of focus, is cast against a scrim showing the
same groups of tourists that we have just seen on stage, but there
are more glimpses of the automaton inside, moments when the ‘cameraman’
elbowed aside his competitors for a closer look; we hear the clock
‘chime’ and see some disjointed views of the peacock’s tail. The
film ends with the ‘cameraman’ leaving the room.
ACT I
The English Embankment, St Petersburg, 1779; a time when this was
the most important street in the capital – the centre of trade and
prestige –; bordering the river Neva and lined with the great houses
of the nobility. Sir James Harris called it the most beautiful street
in all of Europe.
The action takes place on three levels: At ‘ground’ level the facade
of a Baroque mansion (pale yellow with white stucco ornamentation),
flying the British flag – the residence of the British envoy; a
sleepy uniformed guardsman patrols the outside of the building.
A coach is sited stage right on the roadside, the coachman is seemingly
asleep. Raised above stage level, through French windows that open
out onto a balcony on the piano nobile of this building, we see
a drawing room decorated in the English style – Adam furniture,
sporting pictures, Wedgwood plaques. The room is illuminated by
candelabra placed directly in front of large gilt-framed mirrors
that hang from the walls. Two men are seated at cards; their multiple
reflections are slightly distorted, for mirrors are in vogue (Prince
Potemkin owns the manufactory) but they are not yet perfect. At
‘sea’ level, anchored to an iron bollard embedded in the granite
embankment, there is the dim outline of a three-masted yacht, flying
the French flag from the poop deck. The name of the ship – Duchess
of Kingston – is painted in large gold letters on the bow. We hear
the sounds of a ‘ working’ river – shouts of the ferrymen, the sighing,
sawing creak of sails and timbers, the screech of seagulls, the
slap and splash of waves thrown against hulls.
It is dawn.
Scene I
AGENT-PROVOCATEUR [handing the guardsman a piece of paper]: Catherine
is a usurper ... a foreign whore, a murderer. The real Tsar lives.
Land and a hundred souls apiece for the defenders of the true Tsar.
Be ready.
HARRIS and CORBERON are playing faro. A liveried footman stands
at attention by a door.
HARRIS: Stroganov held the bank; Prince Potemkin laid down a hundred
thousand roubles. Stroganov drew the cards: “My King beats your
queen.” Serenissimus merely smiled and lightly remarked, “He’s dressed
in the Prussian style, how apt.” Then that whippersnapper Rimsky-Korsakov
said crowing, “You’ve lost, You’re Highness.” Serennissimus pulled
out a handful of diamonds from his pocket, dropped them on the table,
and to no one in particular remarked, “But the battle has only just
begun,” then looking at Stroganov, he said “or would you prefer
marks ... and you sir” – this at Korsakov – “Shillings?”
CORBERON: Strange that he had no Pounds in his pocket. [Laying
a card on the table.] Carte anglaise
HARRIS: Potemkin lost his diamonds. The Empress, observing this,
unfastened her emerald parure, placed it on the table, and called
for another hand; “Russia will wager whatever it needs in order
to have what it wants.”
CORBERON: Quelle causerie. Korsakov plays a dangerous game.
HARRIS: C’est un garçon perruque de Paris
CORBERON: He has the Empress’s ear
HARRIS: There are more influential parts of the imperial anatomy.
HARRIS: They say he’s been very dutiful, three times in one night.
CORBERON: He exercise’s his functions not only with the Empress
HARRIS: Countess Bruce has found her second youth
CORBERON: Mais bien sur, there have been many more than that.
HARRIS: A parvenu
CORBERON: Potemkin has already introduced the new one
HARRIS: Quite.
CORBERON:
HARRIS: Even fashion is out of fashion, the Empress has declared
war on French fashion A fashion war. No more dolls from the Rue
St Honore No more French at Court
FANNY: Sir, The Duchess has returned
Both men leap to their feet and hurriedly come out onto the balcony,
at the moment when the lights come up on the exterior of the yacht.
On the bridge there is the outline of profuse exotic foliage; the
sounds of birds can be heard – a parakeet, a humming bird, a canary...
HARRIS: Unduchessed, I shall not receive her.
CORBERON:
HARRIS: It’s him I feel sorry for.
CORBERON? The Duke? But he’s dead.
HARRIS: Hervey. Lord Bristol.
HARRIS: Such a pity we have to be at war.
CORBERON: America is a long way away
The lights come up from within the yacht (the exterior lights correspondingly
dim), revealing a richly-furnished bedroom decorated in Rococo,
a style that is passing out of fashion: Louis XV furniture – a marquetry
writing desk, a commode, a fauteuil – varnished pictures in ornate
gilt frames, flambeaux gilt wall sconces, a cabinet crammed with
objets d’art, a Smyrna carpet, a folding screen of chinoiserie,
a pier glass with foaming rocaille shell ornament... to wit, a glut
of things. The outline of a sleeping figure can be seen lying in
a large canopy bed; military clothes are lying anyhow about the
floor, and propped up against a chair a be-jewelled sword, with
a wig balanced upon the handle. A woman with her back to the audience
is seated at a mechanical dressing table (the glass can be lowered)
applying creams and unguents; the table is adorned with pots of
cosmetics, powder brushes, dishes for grinding and mixing makeup,
and cut-crystal scent bottles with silver stoppers. An elaborate
high wig is placed on a dummy at the side of the table. All of the
woman’s movements are deliberately those of a young girl – the tossing
of the head, the impatience of the shoulders. She is in “undress”
– a purple velvet peignoir edged with sable, her head is covered
with a night cap of white muslin, edged with lace, and with two
lappets hanging from the back.
Scene 2
The sound of the Peacock Clock can be heard offstage.
SEMPLE (from under the covers): Somebody shoot that fucking bird.
(pause) My head hurts.
THE DUCHESS [concentrating upon her toilette]: Too much brandy.
SEMPLE: Begging your pardon Countess
THE DUCHESS: Don’t call me that. Mr Semple.
SEMPLE: Major if you please.
THE DUCHESS: You are as much of a Major as I am...
SEMPLE: A Duchess? What about plain Miss Elizabeth Chudleigh?
THE DUCHESS: I was never plain.
SEMPLE: So then the vain not plain Honourable Miss Chudleigh, formerly
Maid of Honour – though not a maid at all it seems – to Her Royal
Highness the Princess of Wales, married secretly Augustus Hervey
... how about Mrs Hervey? Do you like that one better? He was only
the second son of the Earl of Bristol, was murder on the cards?
THE DUCHESS: I forbid you to speak about that scrambling shabby
business... I was twenty-four
SEMPLE: And then how inconvenient not to be able to marry the Duke
of Kingston just because of an old marriage nobody knew anything
about.
THE DUCHESS: Everybody knew.
SEMPLE: Her Grace the Duchess of Kingston. Society hostess.
SEMPLE: God is merciful. Hervey’s brother dies, Mrs Hervey becomes
the Countess of Bristol... just in time for her to stop them from
branding her in the hand like a common criminal. Duchess by bigamy,
Countess by marriage, as so judged by the Lords in Parliament.
THE DUCHESS turns around to face him . She is fifty-eight, old
for the times. Beneath her wrap is revealed a simple three-quarter-length
white linen shift, no stays, ungartered stockings and slippers with
raised heels.
THE DUCHESS: I am also Countess of Wurtz,
SEMPLE: Does the Count of Wurtz know that he is not your only husband?
If you would like to read more of A Port in a Storm, please write
to me at jeremy@jeremynoble.com
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