Eternal Love E-Book

Howard Brenton

• Herausgeber: Nick Hern Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Serie: NHB Modern Plays
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 106

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

A spellbinding retelling of a passionate and legendary love story. When Abelard begins a wild affair with his brilliant student Heloise, his enemies find the perfect pretext to destroy him. Abelard is already on thin ice with the church over his contentious views and when Heloise bears his child out of wedlock, their affair becomes the scandal of the age… Howard Brenton's play Eternal Love was first performed under the title In Extremis at Shakespeare's Globe, London, in August 2006. This new version of the play premiered in February 2014, co-produced by English Touring Theatre and the Globe Theatre.

Leseprobe

Howard Brenton

ETERNAL LOVE

The Story of Abelard and Heloise

NICK HERN BOOKS

London

www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

Title Page

Original Production

Characters

Eternal Love

About the Author

Copyright and Performing Rights Information

Eternal Love was first produced and performed by English Touring Theatre on 6 February 2014 at Cambridge Arts Theatre, before touring the UK. The cast was as follows:

ABELARD

David Sturzaker

HELOISE

Jo Herbert

BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX

Sam Crane

FULBERT/BISHOP

Edward Peel

DENISE/NUN

Rhiannon Oliver

WILLIAM OF CHAMPEAUX/COUSIN 1

Tim Frances

LOUIS VI

Julius D’Silva

ALBERIC

John Cummins

LOTHOLF

William Mannering

HELENE/WORKING WOMAN

Sally Edwards

BERTHODE

Holly Morgan

MARIE

Daisy Hughes

FRANCINE

Claire Bond

COUSIN 2

Tom Kanji

STUDENT 1

Robert Heard

STUDENT 2

Kevin Leslie

STUDENT 3

Sid Sagar

MUSICIANS

William Lyons (MD),Rebecca Austen-Brown,Arngeir Hauksson

All other parts played by members of the company

DirectorDesignerLighting DesignerSound DesignerComposerCasting DirectorChoreographerAssistant Director

John DoveMichael TaylorPaul RussellDerrick ZiebaWilliam LyonsMatilda JamesSian WilliamsJoshua Roche

The play was originally performed as In Extremis at Shakespeare’s Globe, London, on 27 August 2006 and revived there on 15 May 2007. The cast was as follows:

ABELARD

Oliver Boot

HELOISE

Sally Bretton

BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX

Jack Laskey

FULBERT

Fred Ridgeway

DENISE

Pascale Burgess

WILLIAM OF CHAMPEAUX

John Bett

LOUIS VI

Colin Hurley

ALBERIC

Patrick Brennan

LOTHOLF

William Mannering

HELENE/WOMAN 1

Sheila Reid

BERTHODE/NUN/WOMAN

Frances Thorburn

MARIE/COURTIER/WHORE/NUN

Niamh McCann

FRANCINE/WOMAN 2/COURTIER/NUN

Rhiannon Oliver

FULBERT’S COUSINS/

Tas Emiabata, David Hinton,

STUDENTS/COURTIERS/MONKS/DRUNKENBISHOPS/MAD MONKS

Simon Muller, Paul Lloyd, Tom Stuart

DirectorDesignerChoreographerComposer/Arranger

John DoveMichael TaylorSian WilliamsWilliam Lyons

Characters

ABELARD

HELOISE

BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX

FULBERT

DENISE

WILLIAM OF CHAMPEAUX

LOUIS VI

ALBERIC

LOTHOLF

HELENE

BERTHODE

FRANCINE

FULBERT’S COUSINS

STUDENTS

COURTIERS

MONKS

DRUNKEN BISHOPS

MAD MONKS

ACT ONE

Scene One

Cloisters.

HELOISE and WOMEN FRIENDS are leaving church with FULBERT, Heloise’s uncle. He is a canon. When the young WOMEN are in his sight, they are demure. When he looks away, they hit each other playfully behind his back. He never quite catches them.

FULBERT. I have always known I would never be great.

HELOISE. No, Uncle. I mean yes, Uncle.

FULBERT. But I look at our city of Paris shining in God’s light this Trinity Sunday morning…

He indicates the landscape and looks away. HELOISE and her FRIENDS hit each other.

…and when I look up at our great church of Notre Dame…

He turns, they stop hitting each other.

I know that I am at least near to greatness.

HELOISE. You are a canon of the great church, Uncle. St Augustine teaches us that to be part of the City of God is to be part of greatness.

FULBERT. Ah, Heloise. Have you actually read St Augustine’s City of God?

HELOISE. Yes, Uncle.

FULBERT. It is a book of such vast dimensions, I am amazed a girl of seventeen can lift it, let alone read it.

HELOISE. Oh, I can’t lift it, Uncle.

FULBERT. My dear, your cleverness is a wonder and a pleasure to me.

HELOISE bows. Her FRIENDS look down. He turns away, they start hitting each other again.

Is our Paris the new Jerusalem on earth, built by the power of learning? And the power of the wool trade of course. Wool and theology.

He turns. They stop. A pause. Does he suspect something?

Perhaps there is a sermon for me to give in there.

HELOISE. Shall I write it for you, Uncle? It will be on the sanctity of sheep, and the shearing of St Augustine.

FULBERT. Was St Augustine sheared?

HELOISE. As a young heathen, by the knife of God’s grace.

FULBERT. Is God’s grace a knife?

HELOISE. Yes, it cuts our conscience.

FULBERT. Mm. (Pauses, eyeing the precocious HELOISE.) Write it rough. I will smooth it with a man’s hand.

WILLIAM OF CHAMPEAUX enters, with young MEN and MONKS, amongst them ALBERIC, LOTHOLF and PETER ABELARD.

FRANCINE. It’s the cloister school!

MARIE. What are they saying?

WILLIAM (droning). Therefore, as Plato has taught us, there is, in Heaven, the perfect form of everything that is in this world.

HELOISE. I think he’s teaching Plato’s universals.

MARIE. Oh dear.

HELOISE. It’s what Magister William is famous for. Plato’s theory that everything on earth is only a copy of what is in Heaven.

MARIE. Right.

HELOISE steps forward to listen.

WILLIAM. A carpenter makes a table, badly.

STUDENT. It’s got three legs.

All but ABELARD laugh. WILLIAM is irritated.

WILLIAM. But though a table upon earth be imperfect, in Heaven there is the perfect table. The abstract table, the form to which all earthly tables aspire. It is the universal idea of a table, in the mind of God.

ABELARD. I disagree.

FRANCINE. Who… is… that?

WILLIAM shudders. ALBERIC and LOTHOLF are disgusted. The other STUDENTS are excited.

WILLIAM. Not again, Abelard, I beg you.

ABELARD. Magister, tell me, this piece of ideal furniture, around which the saints in Heaven sit for their dinner…

A suppressed giggle from a STUDENT.

…does it have four sides?

WILLIAM. It’s a table. Yes yes.

ABELARD. And four legs?

WILLIAM (a moment’s hesitation). Yes yes.

ABELARD (points at a STUDENT). Is your table with three legs a good table?

STUDENT 1. It could be like a big stool.

STUDENT 2. A tripod. Like they have for the big candles, at the high altar…

STUDENT 3. And round.

ABELARD. Why not?

WILLIAM. Ah…

ABELARD (ignoring WILLIAM, concentrating on the STUDENTS). And would this round, three-legged table, work for the less than ideal dinners we eat on earth?

STUDENT 2. Why not?

ABELARD (to WILLIAM). Then would we not have a perfection on earth, which does not follow its perfection in Heaven?

WILLIAM. No no. You would have an inadequacy on earth. No matter how many meals you eat off it, it will forever be a shadow of the perfection in Heaven.

ABELARD. But this perfection in Heaven… You’ve told us it has four legs and four sides.

WILLIAM. Yes.

ABELARD. How long is it? How wide?

WILLIAM. It’s long and wide enough. Because it’s perfect.

ABELARD. But perfect for what? For a father and mother and son to have a meal? Perfect for ten to have a meal? Perfect for five thousand? And if the archangels in Heaven themselves are huge beings, as some say they are, is the table big enough for them to sit at? Magister William, please tell us, exactly how long, exactly how wide, how tall, how thick, how shiny, how rough is this perfect table? And if any table on earth is a near imperfect copy, does that mean that the heavenly table is wider, taller, thicker, shinier, rougher than any on earth? No, surely, if a stool or a flat stone is good enough to eat bread from, it’s as good a table as any other. The essence of the table is not its heavenly perfection. Its essence is its function, here on earth.

All look at WILLIAM, who is taking short breaths and for a moment cannot speak.

WILLIAM. Day after day I have this from you. Stop it! Just stop it!

ABELARD. I am disputing.

WILLIAM. There is nothing to dispute. I am the teacher, you are the student. I teach, you learn and that is that.

ABELARD. But, Magister, how can I know that what you teach is true, unless I question it? And, if my reasoning is right, that the essence of things is their function on earth, must we not conclude that the whole idea of heavenly forms, of universals, is nonsense?

WILLIAM (losing it. ALBERIC and LOTHOLF support him). How dare you.

HELOISE raises a hand, as if to ask a question herself. ABELARD sees her. They stare at each other.

ALBERIC. To question the universals is to question the Trinity itself.

Some of the STUDENTS look shocked.

FULBERT (to HELOISE and her FRIENDS). I think we should withdraw. Philosophy can be dangerous to ignorant ears.

HELOISE. Not ignorant, just innocent.

FULBERT. Heloise! Enough.

She turns away. She takes a look back at ABELARD. They exit.

LOTHOLF. Yes. If there is no universal spirit, how can Father, Son and Holy Ghost be one and the same?

ALBERIC. A nasty little heresy, a weed growing in your logic, Peter Abelard.

ABELARD. Down, dogs. You aren’t arguing, you’re barking.

The STUDENTS laugh.

Magister.

WILLIAM (weak). What?

ABELARD. Tell me why I am wrong.

WILLIAM (a pause). I can’t.

The STUDENTS are amazed.

I must rest now.

ABELARD. It is a matter of words, Magister. The logic of words. If we cannot speak logically about silly tables, how will we ever be able to speak of God?

WILLIAM. Please, why do you have to speak so loudly so everyone can hear?

ABELARD. So everyone can hear I’m right!

Laughter amongst the STUDENTS.

WILLIAM. This new philosophy, this new logic. Young men questioning, I can no longer… I…

He exits, helped by ALBERIC and LOTHOLF. The other STUDENTS wait respectfully, then when he is gone they rush at ABELARD and embrace him. They fall on the ground in a heap, laughing.

STUDENT 1. You’ve done for him, Peter. Set up your own school! We’ll be your first students.

STUDENT 2. They’ll come from all over France, when they know the new learning is being taught. Disputation!

STUDENT 3. Disputation! Argument! Aristotle!

ABELARD takes STUDENT 4 aside.

ABELARD. That girl. I want her.

Scene Two

FULBERT’s house.

ABELARD, HELOISE with a book, and FULBERT. HELOISE stands apart. She and ABELARD do not look at each other.

FULBERT. My girl, a student of Peter Abelard? I am overwhelmed. That you would take time away from your new school, to teach a woman privately, such generosity! I will be in your debt, Magister. (Bows.)

ABELARD. I have heard she is a great reader, with a quick mind, I thought it my duty to offer instruction.

FULBERT. But you don’t think it unnatural, such learning in a woman?

ABELARD. It is a gift of God, to the world.

FULBERT. Yes! Yes! And in my family! (More intimate with ABELARD.) She is my niece, but in my heart, she is my daughter. She was all but a beggar when they found her, an orphan, living in the ruin of my brother’s farm, burnt by Breton bandits. We had given her up for dead, or captured by those animals. But she’d hidden herself, eating what she could from the orchards, the fruits of brambles… Now my little wild animal eats books. (Turns to her.) Don’t you, my dear! You eat a book by St Jerome for breakfast!

She bows, remaining silent. ABELARD and she still do not look at each other. A pause.

So, when do you want…

ABELARD. Now.

FULBERT. Begin now? Why not? Do you wish to withdraw somewhere private?

ABELARD. Absolute privacy is essential. No interruptions.

FULBERT. Everyone in the household will be told. No one will come near this part of the house. This room is quiet, a window overlooking the garden. Perhaps here?

Scene Three

A room in FULBERT’s house.

ABELARD and HELOISE. She still holds a book. They stand within touching distance.

For the first time they look at each other.

ABELARD. So you were found on your family’s farm, running wild?

HELOISE. No.

ABELARD. Then why does your uncle say that you were?

HELOISE. He likes to tell that story about me.

ABELARD. But people only have to ask you if it’s true.

HELOISE. They don’t.

A pause.

ABELARD. So what is the story of your childhood?

HELOISE. I don’t care. Why should you? All that matters is we wake up each morning and find ourselves still on our journey.

ABELARD (suspecting, wrongly, that this is a platitude). Yes, our journey to God.

HELOISE. Or our journey to…

A silence. Her words hang between them. ABELARD breaks first.

ABELARD. So you read a lot.

HELOISE. It’s not what you read, it’s how you read, don’t you think?

ABELARD. And how –

HELOISE (interrupting). As a woman.

ABELARD. The womanly way of reading being –

HELOISE. Oh, to seek in the familiar, what is hidden.

A silence.

ABELARD. What book do you have there?

HELOISE. St Jerome’s Against Jovinian.

ABELARD. With its warning against sensual, earthly love.

HELOISE. Yes.

ABELARD. And what is hidden there? That a woman can find?

HELOISE just looks at him.

Shall we read it? Or eat it for breakfast?

They smile. A pause. He gestures to her. She reads.

HELOISE. ‘The senses are like windows through which the vices gain entry into the soul.

He holds out his hand and touches her eyes and her face.

She is still.

A silence.

He lowers his hand. She reads on.

‘If… if anyone takes pleasure in the circus, and athletic contests, an actor’s pantomime or a woman’s beauty, the splendour of jewels and garments or anything of that sort… the liberty of his soul is captured through the eye.’