The Venerable Maria Montanari

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: Oibò! What is it now Pierino? Is the snow taking a slightly unexpected turn to the left? Has this bridge been trod on by divers saints? - popes? - by troupes of virgins from the Barbary Coast? Why, devotions are hours away as yet! (gasps with horror) Holy fires!! - did you perchance see a bogle? - er - that is, 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?

P(inattentive): Me? I'm not afraid of her! - no, I'm neither afraid nor shivering! (is in fact a mess of shudders) - Dio, 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 in arrears

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 a full Scot bred

M(to P): 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 more comfortably on your situation, whilst I'm in my slippers and dressing gown

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 beard over her chin, at least as long as your mustachios, though with more grey here and there spinkled! (slaps thigh) She swears t'some sort of liaison with you

B: And 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 soggy island far beyond our pine forests and lagoons - they say (whispers) ye are 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 'ere St. Peter knows who to reprimand!

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 with but one upper tooth, you can hold a conversation so lyrical! (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 is aghast) - also, we are both magicians of a kind; excellency, with your magicked-up rhymy 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 titters) - 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 and feet the size of grapefruit

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 the Cardinal Alberoni who was legate here? And why did he not punish the rascal Ruggiero?

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 (pats M's hand - notices her dress) - and spare your hem snagging on the forest's rockery

M: Bless you, excellency - un milione di volte - dio! But what are those sounds resembling feminine 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 (is 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 voiding her curse

TG: Pfft - it can't be done - the archbishop blessed it - and it cannot be reversed!

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 those unwholesome spectacles seen nightly there, which cause such uproar!

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 is enraptured with the shy beauties) - Why, an Englishwoman would have presented a pair of worsted stockings - at least - in this month of February. Though both excellent things, madam, yours is more elegant (kisses her hand)

M: 'Tis but a small token - and hardly seems thanks enough - yet I have nothing else to disburse

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

M(thinks): The Contessa is - nay - nine 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 nine years?): Perhaps you are right, venerable one (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

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