Hugo in Londonby Marina J. Neary |
|
| Scene 9 |
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.
Hugo and Barclay are left alone in the study.
BARCLAY: I admit I’m fond of Mr. Barrymore. He’s a godsend for Jocelyn. Very few men could tolerate her whims.
HUGO: I agree. One must be a saint or a philosopher.
BARCLAY: You surprised me today, Mr. Hugo. I understand you calling me a villain. But calling Jocelyn a “pouting ingénue” was a bit harsh, don’t you think? Especially after all the praises you’ve sung to her. First you inflate her vanity and then you burst it.
HUGO: I wanted to see her in the state of jealousy, a feeling to which she apparently isn’t accustomed. A woman of her caliber does not encounter much rivalry from others.
BARCLAY: So it was just an experiment on your part?
HUGO: A good writer is also a scientist. Here’s your chance to call me cruel.
BARCLAY: No, this time I’m on your side. A bit of jealousy will be wholesome for Jocelyn. By all means, carry on your mind game.
HUGO: So, you don’t hate me?
BARCLAY: Only as much as my profession allows me to hate another man. We both have Jocelyn’s interests at heart. She needs a lesson in humility. Shall we toast our pact?
He pulls out a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses from his desk drawer.
HUGO: Reverend, I can’t believe what items you keep in your desk drawer.
BARCLAY (pours whiskey for himself and Hugo): It’s for my parishioners. Some of them need additional comforting. Cheers!
Enter Wynfield, pale and trembling
BARCLAY (cheerfully): Young man! Just in time for a toast.
HUGO: Where were you all night? Dr. Grant was worried.
WYNFIELD: I have a confession...
BARCLAY: Then you’re in the wrong place. There’s a Catholic church two blocks away. What we do here is called spiritual counseling. Come, join us for a toast.
WYNFIELD: This is no joking matter.
BARCLAY: (To Hugo) Please give us some privacy.
WYNFIELD: I don’t care if he stays. In fact, I want him to stay. Mr. Hugo, promise not to abandon my father when all hell breaks loose.
BARCLAY: Young man, you’re not making any sense. What hell? Take a seat and have a drink. (To Hugo): See? This is why I keep a bottle of whiskey in my drawer. (To Wynfield): Go on, we’re listening.
WYNFIELD: I’m a murderer.
BARCLAY (unperturbed): I’ve heard that before. Whom did you kill and how?
WYNFIELD (hesitantly): Not with my own hands... not exactly.
BARCLAY: Then you’re not a murderer. There! I hope you’re not disappointed.
WYNFIELD: I’m the one everybody is looking for, the one who stole the guns and sold them to the gang. Officer McLean is dead because of me. I’m turning myself in.
BARCLAY: Young man, I understand your need to ease your conscience, but this can’t be done at Dr. Grant’s expense. Do you know what it will do to him?
WYNFIELD: I know. So I’m begging you to look after him after I’m gone. Please don’t let him perish. Don’t let him go to debtors’ prison.
BARCLAY: There’s more at stake than Dr. Grant’s freedom. It’s his reputation.
WYNFIELD: But the new constable won’t rest until the thief is caught.
BARCLAY: Leave Officer Crippen to me. I’ll think of a way to silence him. I’ll do my part to protect your secret, not for your sake but for Dr. Grant’s.
WYNFIELD (bewildered): So what is my punishment then?
BARCLAY: This is your punishment! A lifetime of remorse — isn’t it enough? You shouldn’t be judged too harshly. After all, you were denied proper upbringing. The law failed you, as it failed thousands of orphans. So the law isn’t the one to judge you.
WYNFIELD: So what am I to do now?
BARCLAY: Go home to your father and be a good son.
WYNFIELD: The world’s turned topsy-turvy. I come here expecting judgment and receive a dispensation. Last night I opened the Bible, the one sent to me by a certain do-gooder, and what I found inside wasn’t the Gospel. It was some political essay called “The New Republic” by someone named Lord Hungerton.
BARCLAY: How peculiar. May I see the book?
WYNFIELD (draws the book from under his jacket): Tell me if I’m mad.
BARCLAY (flips through the pages): You aren’t mad. This certainly isn’t the Gospel. It’s probably the most aggressive attack on the British monarchy since the times of Cromwell. There are very few copies left.
HUGO (locks hands under chin): Now this is intriguing! Do continue.
WYNFIELD: There was a letter enclosed. For days I carried it in my pocket. Last night I decided to burn it, so I held it over the candle, and then I saw writing appear between the lines in brown.
BARCLAY: Lemon juice! So what did the letter say?
WYNFIELD: I didn’t have the time to read. I tried to pull the letter out of the fire, but it was too late. It looked like an invitation of some sort. Somebody expected me to be somewhere. That’s all I know.
HUGO: Fascinating! Blue-blooded rebels, secret societies... In 1827, when I was writing “Cromwell”... Four hundred pages of iambic pentameter! Would you believe it?
BARCLAY: Mr. Hugo! Not everything in this world revolves around your writing. We’re trying to help our young friend. He’s in possession of a very rare book.
WYNFIELD: Who was this Lord Hungerton?
BARCLAY: A former Oxford professor who received a title of nobility. He and the king were friends until their falling-out in 1831. Hungerton became so bitter with William IV that he began bashing the monarchy in the Parliament. He was banished on the grounds of insanity. So he locked himself in his mansion and wrote this manifesto.
HUGO: How romantic! I wish I had met him.
BARCLAY (ignores Hugo): Suddenly, Hungerton fell ill. Bruises covered his body. It was some malignant blood disease, but he believed it was poison. One day, he took his two-year old son for a stroll and returned alone a few hours later.
HUGO: Hungerton murdered his own child?
BARCLAY: He didn’t want the boy to fall into the king’s hands. The lord died the same night. All that’s left is this book. To this day his followers meet in secret. You know how young people toy with anarchy. It’s fashionable. They sit around, take opium and plot revolutions. It’s all idle chatter. Perhaps, they wanted Wynfield to join their ranks.
HUGO (with envy): Why don’t I ever receive such invitations? I am a republican!
WYNFIELD: What I am to do with this book now?
BARCLAY: Young man, do what you please as long as you don’t compromise Dr. Grant’s wellbeing. He deserves some peace at his age. Today is his birthday. Surprise him with a little gathering.
WYNFIELD: He hates festivities.
BARCLAY: But he’ll appreciate the gesture. Now go, and remember: no more pranks.
Wynfield hides the book under his jacket and leaves. Hugo turns to Barclay.
HUGO: Reverend, thank you for allowing me to partake in this conspiracy.
BARCLAY: I’m only fulfilling my Christian duty towards those who need protection.
HUGO: And you can count on my silence! Oh, I feel so important. This story is entirely in my vein. Isn’t it amazing how English history imitates my writing?
BARCLAY (with disgust): You’re unbelievable!
HUGO (strokes his vest): So I’ve been told. I’ll send you a copy of my book.
BARCLAY (lifts the whiskey bottle): If I hear another word about your book, I’ll put smash this bottle on your head — Christian kindness aside. Now, I am teaching at St. Gabriel’s for the rest of the day. Can you keep yourself amused in my absence?
HUGO: I’d like to come with you — if my company won’t be a burden, of course. I’ve always wanted to see an English orphanage. It would be useful for my...
Barclay raises the whiskey bottle menacingly.
HUGO (humbly): I meant to say, it would be useful for my moral growth. I’d like to meet the children and make a monetary donation.
BARCLAY (points his finger): That’s the spirit! Lead the way.
Copyright © 2008 by Marina J. Neary
