The son of Don Juan; an original drama in 3 acts inspired by the reading of Ibsen's work entitled "Gengangere"

Front matter

JOSE'llCHEGARAY

THE LIBRARY

OF

Act I

The scene represents a room for business or study. It is mounted in elegant yet severe taste, with something of a worldly style, indicated by some artistic object which betrays predilections of that kind. On the left of the spectator is a very light and charming tea-table to accommodate three or four persons; upon the table is a candle or night-light •with a bright-colored shade; and surrounding it are three small arm-chairs or cushioned seats and smoking chairs. On the right is a desk — not very large, though massive and sober in style: behind, a chair or writing stool. At the side of the desk a high stool or better still an arm-chair. Upon the desk a lighted lamp with a dark shade. Also on the desk, in a framed easel, the photograph of CARMEN. On the left first wing a balcony, to the right a fireplace with a very bright fire : at one side a large portative screen. Over the doors and the balcony thick, sober-hued curtains. A door in the background, and a door at either side. If it be possible, there should also be in the background a small bookcase, dark and rich : at the left forming a pendant, a cabinet, dark like the bookcase, and full of objects of art. If this be impossible, two equivalent pieces of furniture. In short, a room which gives evidence of rich though

THE SON OF DON JUAN.

not opulent possessors, and which above all denotes the contrast of two tastes: — the one austere, the other gay and worldly. It is night.

SCENE.

DON JUAN, and DON TIMOTEO, DON NEMESIO discovered seated round the tea-table, drinking strong liqueurs and smoking. The three are old, but give token of different types : the three bear the stamp of life-long self -indulgence.. It is recognized, however, that DON JUAN has been a man ofgayety and fashion.

JUAN. Timoteo!

TIM. What?

JUAN. I have a suspicion.

TIM. What about ?

JUAN. That we are getting old.

TIM. How have you got to know ?

JUAN. I '11 tell you : there are symptoms. When

the weather changes^ll my joints are sore. When I

wish to stretch out this leg .merrily, it entails labor on

me, and in the endUt is the other leg which moves.

v *A» Moreover my sight is failing: when I see a dark girl

X ' •* in the street, she looks fair to me; and if a girl

happens to be fair, she becomes so obscured as to

turn dark before my eyes.

NEM.;~ That's weakness; you should take • tojiic.^

(prinks.)

JUAN. My stomach does not resist alcohol yet : I drink out of compliment ; but I know that it does me harm.

TIM. Because it is not the alcohol of our time.

TIM. It is the alcohol which has grown old. (Walks about jauntily.) I feel young still — Ah!

JUAN. What 's the matter? -^ fa<^JC&

TIM. While simply moving., I seem to have disjointed my whole vertebral column. The devil, the devil !

NEM. (drinking calmly). Something or other will have got dislocated.

JUAN. Let us undeceive ourselves : we are nearing the City of Old Age. By the life of life, how short is life ! (Strikes the chair with his fist.) Ah ! L. TIM. What ails you ? ^ JUAN. A pain in the elbow — TMxl-iti this shoulder!1

NEM. The weather ; it 's damp. (Drinks.) -.* ' TIM. Juanito, you have never been very strong.

JUAN. I have not been? I have not been ? I have been stronger than you alC" For twenty-four hours running I have played cards : for three days running I have been shut up with Pacorro and Luis emptying bottles : and my patron Saint Juan Tenorio, from the heaven where he dwells in company with Dona Inez, will have seen how I have borne myself in amorous enterprises. You, on the other hand, have been nothing more than the braggadocios of vice. Away with such lay-figures.

TIM. We don't deny that you have been a greater madcap than anybody else ; but strong — what 's called a strong man — that you have notTbeen.

NEM. You have not been that — confess.

JUAN. What have I to confess ?

TIM. Something has happened to you which never ., happened to any one else.

JUAN. What happened to me ?

TIM. In order to get your spine straightened you 3 had to be put in a casing of paste, and they used to hang you up by the neck twice a day. < ;

JUANV-Btft that was because we were playing at single stick in the Plaza de Toros, and they broke two of my ribs ; that might happen to anybody.

TIM. No, no: you were not like us. Do you remember, Nemesio? "Where is Juanito?" "In bed." "Where is Juanito?" "At Panticosa." "Where is Juanito?" "At Archena." "Where is Juanito ? " " Shut up in his casing." " Where is Juanito ? " " At this moment they must be hanging him." Ha, ha !

TIM. and NEM. laugh. DON JUAN looks at them

JUAN. Don't laugh ver^ loud, or we shall have a general breaking up. I hay,e been a man and you two have been pitiful feH^wi. YOJJ (to TIM.), got married at forty : you locked yourself up in a corner

of mis town""with your wife, and there was an end of

TimoteOy Yo_u (to NEM.), flying like a coward from the storms of the world, took refuge in Arganda, where you drink each year the vintage of the year before. I, on the otherliand (speaking with proud emphasis'), I — it is true that I also got married — at forty-two ; but that 's no proof of weakness. If Don Juan~Tenorio had been allowed the time, he would have married Dona Inez, and indeed there is a rumor that they celebrated their mystic wedding in heaven. But I, the other Don Juan, got married like a man, like a free citizen ; but I did not thereupon abandon the field of honor. I am myself at home, myself abroad, at nine in the convent, at ten in this street. Well, then I had my Lazarus ! — Eh ! — There 's a lad! That's what it is to have a son.

TIM. God help me, with your glorious triumph 1— • Jump into the street, and you won't see a neighbor who is not the son ~6f somebody. Each individual has a father.

]^EM. One father at leasl^V (, &*— -|N* . t/\- ^ J. '

JUAN. Yes, but I was the libertine ; 1 was the man that drained the cup of pleasure and the cask from the wine-cellar : the invalid of the orgy. "That fellow is consumptive," they used to say. " That fellow will die some morning," you thought. And suddenly I became restored to life in Lazarus. Lazarus is my resurrection" And how robust and strong he is. And what talent he has! A prodigy — a Byron, an Esprouceda, an Edgar Poe — a genius. That 's not what I alone say: you have it written in all the journals of Madrid.

TIM. Yes, the lad is able. <. s.

NEM. xtfebable^/" *v^ «-^c

JUAN. Well, now, frankly — he who has led the life that I have led — he who while saying: " I must rest for a time," has a son like Lazarus : that man — is he not a man, indeed ?

TIM. Fine subject of rejoicing for a Tenorio.

JUAN. What subject?

TIM, This of yours. Does it not come to this that you are the father of a genius ? l-

JUAN. And" what then, dotards ? Strength is strength,, |and becomes transformed : you don'F "understand" this. I make no doubt that I had all the genius of Lazarus concealed in some corner of my brain; juA^HvJ but as I gave it neither time nor opportunity it could not exhibit itself. At last it grew tired of waiting, and it said: "Eh! I am going with the s^on, because with the father I can make no headway." (Laughing.}

TIM. Don't delude yourself, Juanito. The talent of Lazarus, for indeed he seems to have great talent, is not inherited from you : he must have derived it from his mother. The paternal heritage will have been some rlieumatism, some affection of the nerves.

NEM. TheTsediments of pleasure and the""~cTregs of alcohol. (Drinks?)

JUAN. Blockheads ! I went through my schooldays badly, and I lived worse ; but there was something in me.

TIM. Quite a genius frittered away on a lost soul.

NEM. And by what did you recognize this something ?

TIM. When was it ?

NEM. And where ?

JUAN. It was on awaking from a drunken bout. <A TiM.r Now that you are going to ascend to the -*^£-^ X^ublinie don't say a drunken bout.

JUAN. Well then, on arising from an orgy.

NEM. That's well. "To Jarifa in an Orgy," " Esprouceda. (Drinks.}

JUAN. Yes, sefior, the very thing. I once felt that which neither of you ever experienced.

NEM. Tell us, tell us. This ought to be curious. — Another little glass, Timoteo.

TIM. Come. To the health of the disappointed genius. (Coughing?)

NEM. Of the unsuccessful genius. (Drinks.}

DON JUAN is thoughtful.

TIM. Begin.

JUAN. You remember the season we passed at my country seat in Sevilla, in the year — in the year ?

TIM. The year I don't recollect — but very well do I remember the country-house, on the banks of the Guadalquivir, with an Oriental saloon, divans, carpets — those famous carpets.

NEM. True, true ! I was always walking on them. Aniceta, the little gypsy — y«p remember? — used to cry out, " I am sinking, I am sinking."

TIM. True, true ! and as she was so little she used to sink out of sight, really.

NEM. Delightful time. Don Juan's country seat — so we called it.

TIM. What I liked was that running balcony or gallery, or whatever it was. What a view! The Guadalquivir ! And it looked towards the East — you saw the sun rise — it was enchantment. (ZbJUAN.)^ Have you fallen asleep ?

JUAN.- I? I never sleep. That's what I should like — to sleep. For this is the way I pass the night — with a wrench of this nerve and a wrench at the other. The little pain which is in the neighborhood of my elbow goes for a walk. My cough appears before it and says, " Good evening, neighbor." My head cries out, " I am going to waltz for a while, stand away there." And my stomach heaves, " No, for God's sake; I shall be sea-sick." Sleep, indeed! It 's ten years since I have slept.

NEM. But you are not telling us the story.

JUAN. What story ? ~j t>J~^\^-

TIM. Why, man, that about the fiery outbreak of genius. When you learned that you had something inside here. (Touching his forehead.} Something sublime, eh ?

NEM. I should think so, corrosive sublimate. Ha, ha ! Another little glass.

TIM. Come. However, we are left at where you got to know once upon a time that you were a lavalike genius — like the pulmonary larvae.

JUAN. I got to know it. There 's nothing to laugh at. <t rJJL>.

f/'XjU-* NEM. In your country seat by the Gaudalquivir?

JUAN. The very same, v^ JLvU-vJC

TIM. In the Oriental saloon — the one with the divans, the balcony looking towards the East and the Persian carpet?

JUAN. Exactly.

TIM. During a night of orgies ?

JUAN. No — next morning — on awaking.

TIM. On awaking from the orgy ! " Bring hither, ujarifa, bring hither thine hand — come and place it ^ upon my brow ! " ( Taking the hand of DON.)

NEM. (withdrawing his hand). Your brow is all right. Ha, ha!x Don't make me laugh.

TIM. Then look — thine hand — a pure branch of the vine.

JUAN. Don't you want to hear me?

NEM. I should think so. Tell your story.

TIM. But you must tell it seriously, solemnly, dramatically. The awaking of Don Juan — after a ^ight of orgies.

JUAN. Then here goes.

NEM. and TIM. take convenient positions far , L JU-^ listening to hint.

It was a grand night — a grand supper. There were eight of us — each with a partner. Everybody was drunk — even the Guadalquivir. Aniceta appeared on the gallery and began to cry out, "Stupid, insipid, waterish river, drink wine for once ! " and she threw a bottle of Manzanilla into it.

TIM. She was very lively, Aniceta. She once threw a bottle of wine at my head — but it was empty.

NEM. Your head ? •

TIM. The bottle. Continue, continue — but, seri-

JUAN. Well, I was lying asleep along the floor, upon the carpet, close to a divan. And on the divan there had fallen by one of the usual accidents, the Tariffs* — Paca, the Tarifefia. Nobody noticed it, and on the divan she lay asleep. Amidst her tossings to and fro, her hair had become loose — a huge mass ! and it fell over me in silky waves — a great quantity.

NEM. Not like Timoteo's. (TIMOTEO is bald.) JUAN. Not like Timoteo's. But if you interrupt me I shall lose the inspiration. / f\ t^^A-v^-* *'

TIM. Continue — continue, seriously, Juanito.

JUAN. We leave off at where I was asleep on the carpet, when the loosened hair of the Tarifefia fell over my head and face, enfolding me as in a splendid black mantle of perfumed lace."* Would you like anything more serious ?

TIM. ft- gees well so. 'i-W~** v ^

NEM. Keep yourself to that height.

TIM. To the height of the carpet ?

NEM. ''Each one-mounts to the height of which he -*' ^ - *"~» ' ii

is worthy, ^po on. _ — ^yi^^A v^k> ,

JUAN. The dawn arrived. It was summer.

TIM. And yet it rained.

JUAN. No, my dear fellow, a delightful morning :- the balcony open : the East with splendid curtains of mist and of little red clouds, the sky blue and stainless, a light more vivid kindling into flame the distant horizon.

TIM. So, so —to that height.

NEM. Very poetical, very poetical — don't fall off. JUAN. Slowly the crimson globe ascended. I opened my eyes wide, and I saw the sun. I saw it from between the interwoven tresses of the Tarifefia — it inundated me with its light, and I stretched forth my hand instinctively to grasp it. Something of a new kind of love, a new desire agitated me. Great brightness, much azure, very broad spheres, vague yet burning aspirations — for something very beautiful. For a minute I understood that there is something higher than the pleasure of the senses: fora minute I felt myself another being. I wafted a kiss to the sun, and pulled aside in anger the girl's hair. One lock clung about my lips — it touched my palate and gave me nausea. I flung away the tress — I awoke the Tarifefia— and vice dawned through the remains of the orgy, like the sun through the vapors of the night, its mists and its fire-colored clouds.

TIM. Good for Juanito. We are moved, profoundly moved.

NEM. Unfathomably moved. (Drinks.} TIM. But with what object have you told us all that I don't remember.

JUAN. To prove to you that there have existed within me noble aspirations.

TIM. Ah ! yes, sublime desires.

NEM. Superhuman longings.

JUAN. Quite so: and that everything which was deprived of the opportunity of making itself known in me, or which ran to waste through other channels will revive in my Lazarus in the forms of talent, inspiration, genius, wings that flutter, creations that spring forth, applause, glory, immortality. Ah ! you '11 see — you '11 see.

TIM. Your posthumous blowing off of steam.

JUAN. My last and most pure illusion — no, the only pure illusion of my existence. And you ought to be glad that my son is getting on so well, you scapegrace. (Giving TIM. a playful slap.)

TIM. I?

NEM. Ah, ah ! I understand you. Another glass to the health of the bride and bridegroom.

JUAN. Eh ? What do you say ? (To DON T.)

TIM. Ah, yes; no, it is impossible. My poor Carmen is very much in love : but I don't know if Lazarus

JUAN. Lazarus is mad about her. He is reserved enough, but he is mad.

TIM. Well, look ; if the son is going to resemble the papa I should be very sorry to form the relationship, frankly.

JUAN. Much obliged to you, venerable grandfather.

NEM. No, Lazarus is very steady.

TIM. The fact is that my girl is very weak, very delicate, a sensitive plant. Her poor chest troubles her with the least thing; and if Lazarus were to lead my poor Carmen the life which you have led your wife, . I should renounce the relationship and the honor which you propose to me.

JUAN. Gently, gently, I have been an irreproachable husband.

TIM. Oh !

NEM. Ah!

JUAN. Irreproachable. My wife has always been first in my affections.

TIM. But you have had a second, and a third

NEM. And a fourth and a fifth.

JUAN. Those are lawful requirements of the system of numeration.

NEM. Peace between the future fathers-in-law. The one is as good as the other; the one is just as gay as the other ; and one is quite as sedate a father of a family as the other.

JUAN. And of course you will be better than we are ! You who have been steeped in alcohol from your tenderest years.

NEM. Between the bottle and the woman, I cling to the bottle.

TIM. Well, I to the woman.

JUAN. Let us not exaggerate : being between the bottle and the woman one remains just the same — between the bottle and the woman.

TIM. Not quite : we now remain at home between our own woman and the bottle of tisan — two tisans.

NEM. Because you are a pair of dotards. I am every night at the theatre, in my little box : from ten to twelve I consecrate myself to art. Some dancers have come from Madrid. Sweet zephyrs ! Four zephyrs.

JUAN (in a loud voice and erecting himself like an old cock}. Are they pretty ?

TIM. Your wife will hear you.

JUAN (lowering his voice in exaggerated style). Are they pretty ?

NEM. Four flowers, four stars, four goddesses, the four cardinal points of beauty. What eyes ! What waists! What vigor! What cushion-like bodies.

JUAN. Cushion-like?

NEM. Nothing artificial.

JUAN. Nothing artificial? And you are going to the theatre now ?

NEM. I go there to finish the night as God commands— in admiring the marvels of creation. (Rising.)

TIM. Then I '11 accompany you, and we shall both admire them. (Rising.)

JUAN. Well, I '11 not stay at home. I '11 go there with you two and we shall all three admire them. {Rising with difficulty?)

NEM. At this time of night, Juanito?

JUAN. You two are going at this time of night.

TIM. And what will your wife say ?

JUAN. For twenty-five years my wife has said — nothing. Besides, I give orders here. No one ever calls me to account. Ho, there, I '11 be back in a moment. Ho, there ! [Exit.

NEM. I think that poor Juan is getting to the end of his tether. Don't you see how he walks? What things he says ! What pitiful senilities.

TIM. Yet he is not very old.

NEM. What should make him old? He is little more than sixty. Every man who respects himself is sixty years old. (Walking about somewhat jauntily.)

TIM. Precisely: you are sixty, I am- sixty, every well-conditioned person is sixty.

NEM. But he has lived ! What a life he has lived ! This is what I say : people may be guilty of follies : you have been guilty of them r>,I have been guilty of them

TIM. And every well-behaved person is guilty of them.

NEM. But^ap to a certain point.

NEM. But poor Juan was old at forty. And Lazarus is not what his father says — no, senor.

TIM. Well, talent — he has much talent. All the newspapers of Madrid assert it ; you see it now. That he is a prodigy that he will be a glorv to the nation.

NEM. I don't deny it. But walk with care before marrying little Carmen to him.

TIM. Why? The devil! Why? Is he like his father ?

NEM. No! Likethefather — no. Inclined to gayety — yes. What would you have the son of Don Juan to be?

TIM. Everybody is inclined to gayety. I am so, you are so —

NEM. It is not that. It is that according to my information (lowering his voice) he is not so robust as t£» papa supposes. Lazarus suffers from vertigo — nervous attacks — what shall I say ? — something of that sort. At long intervals, it 's true ; but that head of hlsls not strong. That 's why he does such stupendous things, and that 's why they call him a genius. Don't trust men of genius, Timoteo. A genius goes along the street, and every one says, " The genius ! the genius!" He turns round the corner, and the little boys in the next street run after him shouting : " The madman! the madman!" Timoteo, it is very dangerous to have much cleverness.

TIM. God deliver us from it. Oh ! as to that I have always been very careful.

NEM. So have I. A man should not be altogether a fool ; that 's not well. But the thing is — don't be a genius.

TIM. Never. Here 's Juan coming back.

NEM. Say nothing to him of what I have told you. They either don't know of the sufferings of Lazarus, or they hide them ; it 's natural.

TIM. Not a word ! but it 's well to know it. Re-enter DON JUAN.

JUAN (dressed for going ouf). Are we ready?

TIM. We are.

JUAN. Then let 's march. Listen. (70 TIM.) Will you come back for Carmen, or must we take her?

TIM. Carmen ?

JUAN. Yes, Carmen. Have you already forgotten that she is in there with Dolores ?

JUAN. What a head ! Ha, ha! And you say that

I ? He forgets his' own daughter! It would

have been easy for me to forget my Lazarus. What a fellow you are ! What a fellow you are ! Away with you for a pair of wooden-heads ! (Laughing.}

TIM. You gay young dog, lead us on to glory and to pleasure !

JUAN. I shall lead you on to the cemetery if you annoy me any more. However, what do you decide ? Will you come back to fetch Carmen ?

TIM. I shall have to come back to carry you home.

JUAN. You carry me ? You 'd never be able to carry any one.

NEM. I shall carry you both. Come, give me your arm, Juanito. If not you can't go down the staircase. (DON JUAN takes his arm.)

JUAN. Teresa — little Teresa.

TERESA enters from the back centre.

TER. Seflor?

JUAN. Tell Dolores — tell your mistress — that I am going out. Let Sefiorita Carmen wait until her father returns to fetch her. March on. (To TIM.) Take hold of me, for you are not very strong. Take hold of me.

TIM. March on.

NEM. March on.

JUAN. Military step ! One — two —

TIM. (looking at TERESA). This girl 's prettier every day.

NEM. (the same). And fresher.

JUAN (to NEM.). You are not looking ; you will fall.

TER. Where are you going, senor?

JUAN. To take these two to the lunatic asylum.

[Exeunt laughing and clutching each other's arms.]

TER. (looking from the back). Well, when you get in there, may they never let you out. Where are those mummies going ?

Enter DONA DOLORES and CARMEN from the

right.

CAR. Ah ! They are not here. Papa is not here. DOL. Have they gone out?

TER. Yes, sefiora. But Don Juan left word that Sefiorita Carmen's papa would come back to take her home.

CARMEN coughs.

DOL. Coughing again ! You ought not to go out at night; the doctor has forbidden you. You don't take care of yourself. You are a little simpleton. Sick children should be in their little homes.

CAR. When I am alone I am very sad. I had rather cough than be sad.

DOL. Not so ; I shall go and bear you company. And I shall bring Lazarus. I don't wish my sick child, my darling child to be melancholy. (Fondling her.)

CARMEN coughs.

Again !

CAR. It 's not worth speaking of.

DOL. The fact is that no one can breathe here. What an atmosphere ! What smoke ! What a smell of tobacco.

TER. The three ancient gentlemen were all the night drinking and smoking and laughing. Now you see they have left everything.

DOL. Yes, I see. (Looking -with disgust at the little table which is full of ashes and ends of cigars and covered with bottles, glasses, and waiters'1 trays) Take these things away ; clean everything up ; open the balcony. I am not accustomed — yet after twenty-five years I should have grown accustomed. (Aside.) The poetry of existence ! (Laughing bitterly.)

CAR. What are you laughing at, Dolores ?

DOL. (changing her tone and feigning merriment.') I feel amused, very much amused at the frolics of those three venerable old men.

CAR. Papa is not yet an old man.

DOL. He is not: but what a life he has led. (Recollecting herself ) So laborious — his business — his commerce — the same as Juan.

CAR. Ah yes: Parents are all alike, killing themselves for their children. And papa is very good. He loves me — my God ! At night he gets up I don't know how many times and listens at the door of my room to know if I am coughing, so that I, who hear him, stifle the cough with my handkerchief or with the bed-clothes ; but sometimes I am not able — it is that I am choking. (Coughs?)

DOL. (to TERESA who has been meanwhile taking away bottles, ash-trays, waiters' trays, and who has entered and gone out several times). Open the balcony! Let in the fresh, pure air. No, wait. (To CARMEN.) You could not bear the sensation, my poor little one. Come. (Taking her by the hand.)

CAR. Where to ?

DOL. While the room is being ventilated you must remain like a quiet little girl behind this curtain. (Placing her behind the curtain to the right) A quiet little girl, eh ? Afterwards you shall enter.

CAR. (laughing). Are you leaving me in punishment ?

DOL. In punishment! Your father is very indulgent, I am very severe.

CAR. Good; but your punishment does not last long.

DOL. Not very long. (To TERESA.) Go: I shall open it. [Exit TERESA.

DOLORES opens the balcony.

So ! Air — the air of night — space —freshness —that which is pure — that which is great — that which does not revolt one — that which dilates the lungs — that which expands the soul ! To have a very broad horizon which one may fill with hopes, and to run towards those hopes ! At least hope ! Hope ! Oh ! I cannot complain. I have my Lazarus — then I have everything.

CAR. (putting her head from time to time through the curtain). Can I come out?

DOL. No, not yet; wait — quiet, my little one. (Walking from the balcony to the fireplace) To have my son ! But without hii£,ever having had a father — above all, that father! QV-i£_jnjL Lazarus -.bad sprung spontaneously from my love! Even as — as of the sea or the light of the sun springs forili^ After all, let-me-sot -complaia — even if he resembled — though he does not resemble — his father, Lazarus is mine and mine only. How good ! How noble. What intellect^. What a heart! Oh, what it-is- -to -have such a son! \ ^ fj^f — ^.(

CAR. May I come in ?

DOL. Ah, yes — wait though — I shall first shut the balcony. (Shuts it.) Come in.

CAR. That's very different. (Breathing with pleasure.)

DOL. You feel well?

CAR. Very well.

DOL. What are you looking at ?

CAR. The clock — to see what time it is. It is getting late : Lazarus is not coming. (Sadly.}

DOL. It is not late, my child. Come and sit by me.

CAR. Yes, it is late, it is late.

DOL. Lazarus will come soon. He knew that you were coming this evening, and he will not fail.

CAR. (sorrowfully). But he would do wrong to inconvenience himself for me. If he does not see me now, he '11 see me another day.

DOL. You silly child, are you complaining ?

CAR. Not at all. My God ! He has his engagements, and he must not sacrifice himself for Carmen.

DOL. Carmen deserves it all; and Carmen knows it ; don't be a little hypocrite.