Three Plays: Six Characters in Search of an Author, Henry IV, The Mountain Giants (Oxford World's Classics) by Luigi Pirandello

Author:Luigi Pirandello [Pirandello, Luigi]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Oxford University Press, USA
Published: 2015-04-07T16:00:00+00:00

ACT TWO

Another room in the villa, adjoining the throne room. Severe antique furniture. On the right, raised about a foot above the floor, there is a kind of platform with a wooden railing around it on little pillars. Steps lead up to it at the front. On this platform there is a table with five period chairs, one at the head and two on either side. The main entrance is at the back of the stage. To the left two windows look out onto the garden; to the right a door leads to the throne room. Late afternoon of the same day.

LADY MATILDA, the DOCTOR, and TITO BELCREDI are already in conversation. LADY MATILDA is gloomily aloof, clearly annoyed by what the others are saying; but she cannot help listening because in her present restless state everything interests her in spite of herself, preventing her from grasping and developing an irresistible idea which has flashed temptingly across her mind. Her attention is attracted by the words of the others because in that moment she feels instinctively that she needs to be restrained.

BELCREDI. It may be as you say, dear doctor, but that’s my impression.

DOCTOR. I’m not saying you’re wrong; but believe me when I say that it’s only an impression.

BELCREDI. Come on: he even said so, and clearly. (Turning to the MARCHESA) Isn’t that so, Marchesa?

LADY MATILDA [distractedly, turning round]. Said what? [Then, disagreeing] Oh yes … But not for the reason you think.

DOCTOR. He meant the clothes we put on: your cloak [referring to LADY MATILDA], our Benedictine habits. And all this is childish.

LADY MATILDA [abruptly, turning again, indignant]. Childish? What do you mean, doctor?

DOCTOR. On the one hand, yes, childish. Just let me finish, Marchesa. But on the other hand far more complex than you can imagine.

LADY MATILDA. On the contrary, for me it’s perfectly clear.

DOCTOR [with the indulgent smile that a specialist bestows on the uninformed]. Ah yes. You need to understand the special psychology of the mad. You can be sure, for example, that a madman is perfectly capable of recognizing a disguise when he sees it; and he accepts it as such. And yet, my good friends, he can still believe in it, like a child for whom it’s both play and reality. That’s why I called it childish. But then it’s complicated in this sense, see: that he is and must be completely aware of being an image in and to himself—that image of himself in there! [Pointing to the left and referring to the portrait in the throne room]

BELCREDI. That’s what he said.

DOCTOR. Right, fine!—An image that has been faced by other images—our own, if you follow me. Now in his delirium, but sharp-witted and clear-headed, he immediately noticed a difference between his image and our images—that in us, in our images, there was something fictive. And he became suspicious. All madmen are armed with a constant and vigilant distrust. But that’s all there was to it. Naturally, he couldn’t see that our game, in response to his, was being played out of pity for him.

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