The Venerable Maria Montanari

Cast

Lord Byron

Pietro Gamba

Maria Montanari

Teresa Guiccioli

Fletcher

SCENE 1

1821, Ravenna - B and P are returning from pistol practice near the mill

P(blesses himself): God bless us!

B: What is it now Pierino? is the snow taking a slightly unexpected turn to the left? this bridge has been trod on by sundry saints, popes - troupes of virgins? Devotions are hours away yet (gasps) did you see a bogle? er - a ghost?

P: Nothing like it - look - see that very old woman carrying sticks on her back (points with whip) - I would swear on Joseph's donkey if that's not (whispers) Maria Montanari

B: Maria Montanari? (whispers) why are we whispering?

P(inattentive): Me? I'm not afraid of her! Why, I imagined she was long dead

B(piqued): Oh, how I love phenomena! - how do you know her?

P(averts eyes): It would be difficult for me to answer - oh! she approaches

B and P dismount - P is wary

B: Buona giornata (bows) - a good day to you, Madam - you must satisfy my curiosity - what is your age, venerable one?

T: Tre croci

B(to P): What the devil does “three crosses" mean?

M: I have ninety years, and five years more to boot!!

B(to P): Does she understand me? (B repeats the same question three times) - not to mistake - ninety-five years?!

M: Si - Venetian-man - why come you to Ravenna? We are far out of the way for foreigners here

B(intensely amused): My dear woman! I admit to being somewhat flattered by such a mistake - I am - however - an Englishman, 'though half a Scot bred

M(toP): What is he on about? A what-man? (P doesn't answer)

B: Madam - come to see me tomorrow - at the Palazzo Guicciloi - you know, in the town - and we can talk further on your situation

M - decrepit though she be - snaps up the invitation

SCENE 2

The salon at the Palazzo Guicciloi

F(splutters and laughs): My lord - there is a crone with a basket of pine-nuts out yonder - god save us! she is very deeply wrinkled - and has a sort of scattered grey beard over her chin, at least as long as your mustachios! (slaps thigh) - she swears to some sort of a liaison with you

B: Indeed she does Fletcher - send her in - and mind your manners toward the elderly (frowns) - look to it!

M enters - attempts to thump Fletcher - who ducks in time

M: Ciao Eccellenza! - I have been told you are an Excellency - no? - a poet - from a small island far across the mountains and lagoons - fond of beef and taxes

B: My! - we are in for a time of it Madam - aren't we? Now - to sit, please - you see, I have never met such a person of your age - we tend to die young in my land - our medics and spiritous substances contrive to snuff us out before St. Peter knows what he's about

M: All the Montarinis live to great ages - certo, I have twelve children in their seventies

B's mathematical abilities for once favour him

B: Your trimness of figure and vigour in all aspects would attest to that - your sight and hearing are good - your teeth (examines) - for ninety-five years, are excellent - albeit it is remarkable you can hold a conversation with but one upper tooth! (scratches head) - forsooth, Madam - in my country you'd be held for show in Astleys as a supernatural medical miracle

M(charmed): You are so like myself, Excellency!

B: Like yourself??
M: Yes - you talk incessantly (B aghast) also, we are both magicians of a kind; excellency, with your magicked-up words can cast spells over all the ragazze of Ravenna - myself - I can cast spells over the future!

B: I suspected some such witchery - come, tell me - is this why Pietro Gamba is wary of you?

M(smiles wickedly): Have you ever wondered why the Gamba's coat of arms is decorated with one little leg?

B(uncomfortably): I naturally presumed it was because they are all somewhat - ah - er - none of them - long-limbed - although immensely attractive in all other ways (becomes distracted)

M: No, Excellency! - they are cursed!!!

B: Marvellous

M: In my extreme youth, they were fine tall people - (whispers) as you are a man of the world, I feel you will not be repulsed by our strange morality? (B snorts) - very well then (adjusts tooth for greater vocal clarity) - my beautiful aunt - Rosa - won the heart of Count Ruggiero's grandfather, but before they were to marry, they were caught in flagrante in the act by her father! - this Ruggiero (spits) - yacked up his pantaloons and ran away from our now unsaleable Rosa so quickly that her father fell and cracked his skull on a lute - on his deathbed, I placed a curse on the Gambas that forever more they shall not be able to run quite so fast from dishonour - and wished upon them tiny legs

B: All of this - but five years ago - I would find baroque and unlikely - now, of course, it is natural and to be expected - but tell me, do you remember Cardinal Alberoni - who was legate here?

M: Alberoni? “O culo di angelo"? (both laugh) but of course - did he not congratulate me on the effectiveness of my curse and take our poor disgraced Rosa as his fifth mistress?

B: Return this evening my dear Madam - and we shall arrange a weekly pension and relieve this kindling-carrying burden from you

M: Bless you excellency - un milione di volte - dio! but what are those sounds resembling hysterics and flying crockery?

B looks towards TG's quarters and shews M out

SCENE 3

Evening - TG tears aside the salon's draught-excluding curtains

TG: At last! You have been revealed as the lying, dishonourable bastardo Miss Clairmonti says you are! (weeps)

B: Does the name Maria Montanari mean anything to you, my Teresa?

TG gasps in horror - drops dagger, pistol and bottle of poison

TG: Dio! the witch! the witch who gave us the small legs!

B: The very one (displeased) - she now gathers wood and pine-nuts in the forest - yea, in the snow and ice! - pretty work at ninety-five years old! (TG shrugs shoulders) - perchance a demonstration of charity on the part of your noble family could have worked in reversing her curse

TG: Pfft - it can't be done - the archbishop blessed the curse

B: Oons! (gives up on Anglo notions of reason) - enough, tesoro! - suffice to say, I am not rummaging through the bedclothes with the sprightly crone

F: Your ancient amica is downstairs m'Lord

TG huffs and puffs to B's private apartments - M enters

B: Good evening, Madam - now, here have a Louis (flips coin) - I have ordered you a new suit of clothes - in the latest forest style - your pension you can collect weekly from Fletcher (M sobs, a bit) - my dear woman, you need have no fear of wrestling over pine-nuts in the woods anymore - and no more witnessing the unwholesome spectacles seen nightly there, I imagine

M(shakes head): I have nothing to give you - Excellency - just a pious prayer of thankfulness and these two bunches of young violets - the fairest of the field - which I gathered in the bright and balmy dew

B: Violets! the virgin violet - herald of the coming spring! “For life rejoices when the dead bloom"! (B enraptured with the shy beauties) - why, an Englishwoman would have presented a pair of worsted stockings! - at least, in this month of February, both excellent things madam, but yours - more elegant (kisses her hand)

M: 'Tis but a small token - and hardly seems thanks enough

B: In that case - is it possible you could lift the Gamba curse?

M(thinks): The Contessa is - nay - ten years younger than you? In truth, do you want her to be able to run away from you at great speed, Excellency?

B(to self: what! - only ten years?): Perhaps you are right, my good woman (both laugh)

M: Well then, may God keep and guard you, my most generous excellency! (bows and departs)

B watches M gamely make her way through the melting snow - hissing at assorted withered Gambas hiding in doorways

B: The noble Signora Montanari - and this season - reminds one of Gray’s stanzas (recites)

Here scatter’d oft, the earliest of the year,

By hands unseen, are showers of violets found;

The red-breast loves to build and warble here,

And little footsteps lightly print the ground

B sighs contentedly - spends evening bandaging the lame crow's leg

END

read about Maria here!

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