Hugo in Londonby Marina J. Neary |
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| Scene 7 |
In 1854, at the height of Crimean War, Victor Hugo, the legendary French romantic, comes to London in search of inspiration for his next novel. He meets Jocelyn Stuart, a delusional young benefactress, who promises to show him “the real England.”
Hugo disguises himself as a sailor and enters Bermondsey, where he immerses himself in a world of boxing matches, circus performances and gang wars. Roaming London’s most notorious slum, he encounters Dr. Grant, a Cambridge-educated opium dealer; Wynfield, a charismatic bandit; and Diana, a sickly servant girl who bears a disturbing resemblance to Hugo’s dead daughter. Their surreal adventures become the basis for Hugo’s subsequent novels.
When danger befalls Hugo’s new friends, he vows to protect them, even if it means turning against his old friends and risking his own safety. How far will a grieving father go for the memory of his child?
Infused with dark humor and melancholic folk ballads, Hugo in London is a tribute to one of France’s most prolific literary icons.
WYNFIELD (picks up his jacket and prepares to leave): The lads are waiting at the Pigeon’s Nest. Won’t you join us for a pint of ale, Mr. Hugo?
HUGO (fixes his pillow): This fat old Frenchman has had enough adventures for one night.
He yawns, pulls the blankets over himself and turns towards the wall.
WYNFIELD: So much for your working-class novel. Sweet nightmares...
DR. GRANT (nervously): Why is there a constable at our door?
WYNFIELD: So he wants a glass of beer! You know Officer McLean. He’s not above drinking while on duty.
DR. GRANT: This isn’t Officer McLean. If you got yourself into trouble, boy, I swear, I’ll hang you by the corners of your mouth. What have you done this time?
WYNFIELD (defensively): Nothing! Out of the ordinary...
DR. GRANT: Then why do we have police under our windows?
WYNFIELD: How am I to know? Let them in.
DR. GRANT (though his teeth): Well, I suppose, it’s better to open the door than to have it knocked down.
Enter Officer Crippen with two Peelers.
GR. GRANT: Good evening, gentlemen. Can we be of any assistance to you?
CRIPPEN (looking around): Perhaps. (Pointing at Hugo): Is that a new patient?
DR. GRANT: Just a guest from Guernsey.
CRIPPEN (to the Peelers): Look at ’im, nice ’n cozy. Wouldn’t I trade places with ’im!
The two Peelers laugh and elbow each other. Crippen turns around abruptly.
CRIPPEN: Hush, yer dolts!
WYNFIELD: Where’s Officer McLean?
CRIPPEN (casually): At the undertaker’s.
WYNFIELD: What? I just saw him this morning.
CRIPPEN: That was ten hours ago! McLean was breakin’ a squabble on Jacob’s Island, when a bullet went into his chest. That bullet was fired from a model Adams revolver.
DR. GRANT (whistles): That’s not exactly the cheapest toy.
CRIPPEN: There’re rumors of someone stealin’ guns from the factory and sellin’ them to local gang chiefs.
DR. GRANT: Imagine that! Wyn... What’s with you?
WYNFIELD (leans against the wall): Dear God... Not him.
CRIPPEN: Why yer so distraught? Was McLean a friend of yours?
DR. GRANT (steps in between Crippen and Wynfield): Don’t mind my son. He’s quite tender-hearted underneath. The news disturbed him.
CRIPPEN: Can’t say we’re thrilled ’bout it ourselves. But, such is the Peelers’ lot.
DR. GRANT: I know. But my son still has trouble accepting death.
CRIPPEN: What? The town bully is a crybaby? Tell him, doctor, that we expect the thief to be caught very soon.
DR. GRANT: Do you have any suspects?
CRIPPEN: The bailiff put up a handsome reward for helpin’ us catch the thief. In less than an hour the whole town will be runnin’ ’bout with lanterns. Some ogre hunt! So, if you’ve got leads, come, find us.
DR. GRANT: Would that be all, gentlemen?
CRIPPEN: All for now. (To the Peelers): Come, lads. We’ve got rounds to make.
The police leave. Wynfield sinks to the floor. Dr. Grant sits down next to him.
DR. GRANT: Would you like to tell Papa-Bear what that was all about? It’s as if you’d never heard of a Peeler getting killed on duty.
WYNFIELD (shakes his head): He had a family.
DR. GRANT: And, trust me, I’d be the first one to toss a few spare coins their way. But you know why I can exercise generosity these days.
Wynfield jumps to his feet abruptly. Dr. Grant recoils.
DR. GRANT: Where are you off to now? It’s past midnight!
Wynfield dashes out without a jacket. Dr. Grant remains standing in the middle of the room, shaking his head. Hugo sits up on his bed. Dr. Grant notices him.
DR. GRANT: Ah, look who’s awake!
HUGO: Exactly how much money do you need?
DR. GRANT: Exactly how much did you hear?
HUGO: Enough to know that your pockets are a bit loose.
DR. GRANT: Not just mine. All tavern keepers on our street are in debt.
HUGO: I’ll see that you’re no longer in this predicament. And before you tell me that Englishmen don’t accept charity from Frenchmen, I assure you that this is anything but charity. What I am about to propose is a contract of mutual benefit.
DR. GRANT (crosses his arms): Go on, I’m listening.
HUGO: I’m on a literary pilgrimage. I need lodging, and there’s no place more suitable than your tavern. For your accommodations I’ll pay you... Just name your price.
DR. GRANT (without a moment of hesitation): Ten shillings a week.
HUGO: All right then, fifteen it is!
DR. GRANT: That includes alcohol but not the company of my charming female companions. You can get drunk here at my expense, but bring your own women.
HUGO (extends his hand): Then we have a contract!
DR. GRANT: At last, something to celebrate. (Claps his hands) Ladies! Come and meet our new friend. (Ingrid and Brigit flutter into his arms.) Now tell him the truth. Are you happy here?
INGRID (to Hugo): Obscenely so! Dr. Grant is gallant and generous. He gave me a safety pin. How exquisite!
BRIGIT: He gave me a brass button. Now we’re the envy of all the girls in Southwark.
DR. GRANT: Now, ladies, go and keep our guest company. Make sure that he leaves England with most pleasant memories.
HUGO (puzzled): But I thought you forbade me...
DR. GRANT: That was a whole minute ago! My house rules are subject to change.
Ingrid and Brigit join Hugo on the mattress.
Copyright © 2008 by Marina J. Neary
