TSQ-IV: VIVIAN SNIPES

The Snow Queen

Based on the story by Hans Christian Andersen

Adapted for the stage by Vivian Snipes for Lexington Children’s Theatre

The Prince and Princess

...a Guard,

forbidding ... from entering the castle during the dangerous dreams that come alive during Midsummer’s Night.... becomes flustered and can only repeat the last word the Guard speaks. A dangerous dream shadow rushes past, verifying the Guard’s story. He tells that the dreams are softening now that the Princess has found a Prince. The Princess’s suitors all stood on the front step only repeating the last word they heard until a shabby young man finally pleased the Princess and is to marry her. Hearing the description, ... sidesteps the Guard’s watchful eye to the see the young man for herself.

...is accosted by the dreams; ... cries wake the Princess and Prince. The Prince is not Kai, and the Princess is enraged by the disruption. The Princess demands Gerda be taken to the dungeon, but the Prince convinces her to let Gerda stay to allow her dreams to explain her presence. The Princess obliges. Gerda’s dreams reflect her journey and in her dream Gerda sees Kai and the Snow Queen. Kai is alive, completing a task for the Snow Queen. The Snow Queen questions Kai, asking him why he chooses to stay. Kai cannot think clearly with the shard still in his heart. He continues to work and Gerda wakes, ready to continue her search. The Prince and Princess are reluctant to let Gerda go, warning her of the dangers in the Namdalen Forest. They send the Guard with her to protect from the threat of cannibalistic Robbers in the Forest. 

The Little Robber Girl

Gerda twists her ankle, forcing them to rest. They are surrounded

by the Robbers, who speak a foreign language. The Guard stabs Gudrun, leader of the Robbers, and she quickly disarms him. The Robbers begin chanting a sacrificial ritual and Gudrun kills the Guard, as Jorelie and the Wild Hunt come to claim his soul.

The Robbers rejoice and Gudrun asks her tribe if they should kill

the girl next. Her death is agreed upon, and the Robbers begin

their ritual once more. During the ritual, Gudrun’s daughter, Ylva,

attacks her mother. Ylva wants to keep Gerda as a pet. Gudrun is

ultimately pleased by the strength of Ylva and allows her to keep

Gerda as long as she is useful. The Robbers begin to feast on

the body of the Guard. Ylva falls asleep, holding Gerda. 

(No honeymoon in the final story)

A Closer Look at The Snow Queen

The characters found in The Snow Queen are not typical, even today.

(Gerda) encounters and is assisted in her journey by many other strong, primarily female characters, which is something that is not common, even for stories today. Gerda is cared for by her grandmother, helped by witches, protected by a robber girl who is also a child, and given clothing and a guide by a princess. Even the antagonist of the story, the Snow Queen, is a woman. In fact, the only male character with a position of power is the Prince, who was chosen by his wife, the Princess.

Learn a Little Swedish

LCT’s production of The Snow Queen utilizes the Swedish language for the trolls and the robbers. Swedish is a Nordic language derived from Old Norse.

MARIAN ROALFE COX: fraudulent exchange of letters

In the sequence of events to which the Cinderella tales leads in romantic and legendary literature, many incidents of the folk-tale are reproduced; but these belong more especially to another class of story, of which, therefore, before examining the legends themselves, I may here give a few examples. The episodes most frequently met with in the romances may be thus briefly enumerated:
[···]
3. Persecution [···] and fraudulent exchange of letters.
4. Reunion in distant lands of [···], husband and wife.
In Gonzenbach's twenty-fourth story, "Von der schönen Wirthstochter / Bella Venezia" (Sicilianische Märchen, i, 148), the heroine's mother, who keeps an inn, is jealous of her daughter's beauty, and shuts her up. A king, however, catches sight of her, and marries her. During his absence at the war the heroine bears a child, and her mother in-law writes to tell the king. The messenger stops at Venezia's mother's inn, and the innkeeper/mother takes the opportunity of exchanging the letter for another, announcing that the queen has borne a monster. The king writes word that his wife and their child are to be taken every care of; but again the heroine's mother intercepts the messenger and substitutes a letter containing the order that the queen's hands be cut off, her monster birth bound to her arms, and that she be cast forth into the woods. Through supernatural aid, Venezia acquires a castle and her severed hands are restored. Some time afterwards, the king, losing his way when out hunting, comes to the castle and asks for a night's lodging. In the morning his wife and child are restored to him.
There is a Greek variant, entitled "La Belle sans Mains" (Legrand, Contes pop. Grecs, pp. 241-256), which story, says Legrand, is a feeble echo of the legend entitled "D'une reine du pays francs dont la toute-puissante Notre-Dame guérit les mains coupées". This legend was inserted by the Cretan monk Agapios in his Auaptwnwv Zwtnpia, a curious book, which is still as popular in Greece as it was two centuries ago. Probably Agapios was acquainted with some Italian imitation of the "Roman de la Manekine", of which he made use.
These folk-tale examples will suffice for comparison with such of the legends as have more points of resemblance with stories of this class than with the story of Peau d'Ane.
After collating the several legends which bear upon the adventures of Cinderella in some of the numerous ramifications of the story, I found that M. le Comte de Puymaigre, in his work entitled Folklore (Paris, 1885, pp. 253-277), had made a précis of some of the same material. I am therefore glad to economise further time, having already given much to the subject, by here and there combining his work with my own in the remarks which follow. "La fille aux mains coupées" forms the motif of his study in connection with the legends. M. de Puymaigre met with this in the course of translating Victorial; a book of the fifteenth century, by Gutierre Dias de Games, giving the life of Don Pero Nuño, to whom Games was alférez (ensign). Accompanying Don Pero to France, Games became acquainted with an episode which he considered revealed the cause of the long wars between that country and England (the Hundred Years' War). Gaines relates how a certain French noble maiden has her hands severed, and is marooned on the Channel, for refusing to marry her stepfather. The Virgin Mary appears to her in a dream, and the girl prays her to restore her hands and take her safely to land. The Virgin promises her reward and honour. When the girl wakes, her hands are whole. A soft wind blowing from the French coast drives her boat to the shores of England. The son of the English king, returning with his fleet from Ireland, discovers her, listens to her strange eventful history, and marries her. Finally, when the Duc de Guienne dies, without heir, the English prince goes to Guienne, and claims the duchy for his wife. The French will not give it up, but drive him from the country. The duke had never been reconciled to his stepdaughter, whom he presumed dead, though he had heard of the miracle; and, feeling his end approaching, he had given the duchy to the King of France. This, says Games, was the beginning of the Hundred Years' War.
The above theme, orally transmitted in the folk-tale at the present day, is found in most of the mediaeval literatures of the West, amongst Celts, Anglo-Saxons, and Normans. One of the oldest forms of the saga is that found in the Vitae duorum Offarum, by Matthew Paris.
In the Vita Offae Primi we read of Offa as the king of the West Angles. The king of Northumbria, harassed by the Scots and certain of his own subjects, seeks the aid of Offa, at the same time asking for the hand of his daughter, and promising to acknowledge him his sovereign. These terms are sworn on the Gospels. Offa sets off to the North, defeats the Scots, and sends his people the news of the war. The bearer of the letters is waylaid by Offa's son-in-law, who makes him drunk, and, whilst he sleeps, robs him of his letters, substituting others which announce that Offa has been vanquished, that he considers his misfortune a contrappasso on account of his sin in having married the forest girl, and that she and her twin children are accordingly to be conveyed to some desert place, and left to perish. This letter reaches its destination; the magnates dare not disobey; the queen is cast out; moved by her beauty, the executioners spare the mother, but hack the children in pieces. A hermit finds the queen through hearing the piercing cries which proceed from the corpses; he places the mutilated limbs together, and resuscitates the children through his prayers. When Offa returns he hears with horror of what has been done during his absence. Seeking to solace his grief in hunting, he one day finds in the cave of the hermit the wife and children whom he had believed dead. In his gratitude he vows to found a monastery at the hermit's request. But this promise is only redeemed by Offa II, in the founding of St. Alban's.
The same theme forms the basis of the Roman de la Manekine (MS. de la Bibliothèque Royale, No. 7609), written in verse by Philippe de Reimes, a trouvère of the thirteenth century. l with the incidents in that class of folk-tale of which I have given specimens.) During the absence of her husband, who has gone to take part in a tournament arranged by the King of France, Joie bears a son. The mother-in-law intercepts the letter which should announce the news to the king, and substitutes another, saying that Joie has borne a monster. The king writes that nothing is to be done till his return; his mother exchanges this letter for one ordering the seneschal to burn Joie. Once more she is saved by the substitution of a dummy, and she embarks with her newborn child. The king returns, learns the truth, locks up his mother, and sets out in search of his wife, walking through fire and ice and encountering many a hardship. After seven years he finds he, where she had found shelter. 
Another version of the Manekine legend is related by Nicolas Trivet in his Anglo-Norman Chronicle. The date of this is 1334.
The Tale of Emare, in the Cotton MS. Caligula A. ii, printed by Ritson in his Ancient English Metrical Romances (London, 1802, vol. ii, pp. 204-247), seems, in all but its bad beginning, to be merely an older version of the Constance story.
The outline of Emare is as follows:-- 
[···]
Emare is exposed, clad "in the robe of noble blue", in a boat which drifts to Galys. Here she becomes the wife of the king. Her husband joins the King of France in the war against the Saracens, and during his absence Emare bears a son, Segramour. The letter which should announce the news to the king is exchanged by the king's mother, and the false letter informs him that his wife has borne a monster. The kindly answer which he sends in return is converted by the queen-mother into a cruel sentence. Accordingly, Emare is a second time exposed. [···]The king returns from the wars, and banishes his mother on discovering her treachery. After some years he goes on a pilgrimage to get absolution. He lodges at the house where Emare dwells, and is served by his own son. The
joyful reunion ensues.
The same story has been versified at great length, with certain slight variations, and under different names, by the poet Gower, in the second book of his Confessio Amantis (vol. i, pp. 179-213, of Dr. Pauli's edition), and after him by Chaucer in his Man of Lawes Tale. The former, who makes the lady whom he calls Constance, or Custen, refers to "the cronike" as his authority.
The story likewise occurs, much altered and abridged, in Il Pecorone, by Ser Giovanni Fiorentino (Day I, Nov. 10). The following is an outline:--
The Princess Denise, of France, to avoid a disagreeable marriage with an old German prince, escapes into England, and is there received into a convent. The king, passing that way, falls in love with and espouses her. Afterwards, while he is engaged in a war in Scotland, his wife bears twins. The queen-mother sends to acquaint her son that his spouse has given birth to two monsters. In place of the king's answer ordering them to be nevertheless brought up with the utmost care, she substitutes a mandate for their destruction, and also for that of the queen. The person to whom the execution of this command is entrusted allows the queen to depart with her twin children to Genoa. At the end of some years, she discovers her husband on his way to a crusade; she there presents him with his children, and is brought back with him in triumph to England.
In Ritson's opinion, the author "may seem to have been indebted to a MS. of the National Library, Paris (No. 8701; a paper book written in 1370), entitled Fabula romanensis de rege Francorum, etc.; but there can be little doubt that this novel was adapted from Nicholas Trivet's Life of Constance, whose Chronicles were written at least forty years before Ser Giovanni began to compose his work in 1378 (it was not printed till 1558), while the Canterbury Tales were probably written very soon after, if not some of them before, that date.
We meet with another version of the same theme in a German Volksbuch. Here it is used to point a moral as well as to adorn a tale, with the following title, both critical and exegetical: Eine schöne anmuthige und lesenswürdige Historie von der geduldigen Helena.
abern aber zum Schrocken in Druck gegeben. Köln am Rhein und Nürnberg. This romance, according to Gorres, is based upon an old poem (also 100YW-etiological) under title: "Von eines Kuniges Tochter von Frankreich ein hübsches Lesen, wie der Künig sie selbst zuo der Ee wolt hon, des sie doch got von im behuot, und darumb sie vil trübsal und not erlidt, zuo letst ein Künigin in Engellant ward." But Merzdorf, who has made an elaborate study of this poem, agrees with Graesse in thinking the Volksbuch version an abridged translation of a twelfth century poetic romance by Alexander of Bernai or Paris, de la belle Helayne.
The epic poem by Hans von Bühel is in seventy-two quarto pages, and opens just like El Victorial, with a French damsel fleeing from her unnatural stepfather. She escapes alone in a little ship from Calais, where she has been living incognito for a while, taking with her provisions, and materials for working in silk. She is driven to England, landing near to London. Attracted by he smoke from a little hut, she induces the peasants whom she finds within to engage her to tend their cattle in return for her daily bread. She weaves some beautiful silk, and the peasant woman takes it to London for sale. The wife of the marshal going to mass, buys it of the woman who sits at the cathedral entrance, and also bids her bring all the silk she has to her. The marshal, seeing the work, the like of which could not be produced in all the kingdom, induces the peasant woman to reveal who has made it, and the end of it is that he visits the French princess, and takes her to live in his own house, and treats her as his own daughter. It being the custom of the king (who is also nameless) to visit the marshal's wife after the transaction of affairs with her husband, he chances one day to see the princess, falls in love with her, and shortly marries her with great ceremony and rejoicing. A sudden invasion of the country by the king of Ireland and Scotland necessitates the king's presence at the head of his army. The poem goes on to relate the usual sequence of events, namely, how during the king's absence the queen bore a son, and the marshal to whose care she was confided sent tidings thereof to the king; how the king's mother intercepted the letter, substituting another which stated that the queen had borne a monster--half human, half animal; how she also intercepted the king's reply, and gave orders to the marshal in the king's name to burn both queen and infant prince; how the marshal burnt two baby animals in their stead, and put the queen and her child in the same ship which had brought her thither; how, after many hardships, she at length reached a farmhouse, where she took service, minding the cattle and doing housework; how, after a time, the Pope took her son to live with him, and gave him land and people. And, at last, how the kings of England and France, both on account of their sins--the former having burnt his mother, the latter having desired to wed his stepdaughter--came to the Vatican to seek absolution; how the joyful recognition ensued, and the heroine was taken home, after calling on the way at Paris, where the French king proclaimed his stepdaughter heir to the throne. Having taken part in the rejoicings in England, the French king returns to his capital, falls ill, and dies, before his stepdaughter and son-in-law can reach him; but when they arrive their sovereign right is acknowledged. The King of England and his son are recalled on account of another invasion of the King of Ireland and Scotland, and in the meantime the queen dies, and the throne of France is claimed by another king. Her husband is broken-hearted at her death, and determines to recover the French crown for his son. The poem ends by pointing out this explanation of England's claim to the throne of France, and of the long wars which ensued (It may actually be an explanation of the Anarchy, the dynastic conflict between Queen Matilda and her kinsman the crown pretender Étienne de Blois, who defeated her, and Matilda's son Henry vanquishing, after his mother's death, the usurper, now crowned Stephen I of England).
The poem consists of 15,000 rhymed verses. The Volksbuch has retained much of the naïf simplicity of the poem, though materially altering the plan. The queen bears two sons, twins who are carried off in the wilderness by a lioness and a female wolf, respectively, and "saved" by a hermit (the female beasts had nursed the feral children, as usual). Helene has her hands cut off for having driven the children away, and the niece of the Duke of Gloucester (who herein plays the role of the marshal) willingly gives herself to be burnt at the stake in Helena's stead. After many adventures, the two confederate kings meet with the hapless queen and her two children in Tours.
Still more intricate are the events related in the French version (alluded to above), published in quarto, at Paris, without date, under the title: Histoire de la belle Heleine...
Counselled by a nun, Heleine escapes in a Flemish ship to Sluis (Port de l'Ecluse), where she enters a convent. Antonius, in his rage, takes ship after her, and sails through every sea of Europe in vain quest. She lives for many a year in her retreat, till Cantebron, King of Sluis, who has become enamoured of her, directs his body guard of Saracens to storm the convent and carry her to his seraglio. Heleine flees in a Spanish ship sailing to Catalonia. But the ship is wrecked, and all save Heleine perish, she being cast ashore on the English coast. King Henry of England, taking his pleasure on the sea, is astounded at her beauty and the richness of her attire, and he rescues her. His offer of marriage she accepts, though she declines to reveal her descent, and will only say that she is "la plus noble Damoiselle de la Chrétienté". The marriage takes place against the wish of Henry's mother. Once more the Saracens threaten, and Pope Clement seeks the aid of the King of Great Britain. He gives it in person, leaving the Duke of Gloucester as regent, and confiding Heleine to his care. Then follows the birth of the children, which the mother, who waylays the messenger at Dover, pretends are puppies, and the fraudulent letters. The Duke of Gloucester cannot make up his mind to burn Heleine, as the false letter directs, so, after cutting off one of her arms, for some unexplained purpose, he puts her to sea. A niece of the duke's, named Marie, offers herself to be burned with two straw dolls in the place of the queen and her sons. The hand of the queen, which had been cut off, is put in a box, and hung round the neck of one of the children. The boat lands them in Brittany. Whilst Heleine sleeps, a lioness (in Northern France!) and a female wolf from the forest make away with her children. She seeks them in vain, wandering at length to the neighbourhood of Nantes, where she takes refuge in a deserted hut, and lives on the alms of the passers-by. A woodland hermit saves the children, and calls one Leo and the other Bras ("Arm"), for having been nursed by a lioness and wearing the severed hand round his neck, respectively. Meanwhile, King Henry has slain the Saracens, freed Pope Clement, and returned to London, to learn the sorrowful fate of his wife and children. He is still bewailing his misfortunes, when his grieving leads to an unexpected revelation. The Duke of Gloucester reveals the truth, and, convinced of the guilt of the queen-mother, the king orders her banishment. London being hateful to him, Henry joins the Kings of Scotland and Constantinople in the war against the heathen of Europe. They first vanquish Clovis, King of Bordeaux, who allows himself to be baptised, and then joins in the crusade. The hermit, meanwhile, has brought up the children, and when they are sixteen years of age he sends them forth to discover, if possible, their parentage. They come to Tours, where the archbishop himself receives them, and changes the name of Leo into Martin, and of Bras into the more suitable Brice. Heleine, too, comes to Tours, and receives rich alms from Martin, who does not know her. And the allied kings come to Tours, where the two promising youths are presented to them. When the King of England opens Brice's box and sees the hand, he is convinced that he has found his two sons. Martin seeks the poor, one-handed woman whom he supposes to be his mother; but, on the arrival of the kings, she had fled in alarm over the Alps. Here, in the Vatican, she is supported by the Pope, her unknown uncle. Brice is taken to London, there to make manifest the innocence of his mother, and then goes with the four kings to Palestine to fight against the Saracens, whilst Martin remains at Tours with the archbishop. When the Saracens are subdued the conquerors journey, whereupon Heleine flees to Tours, revealing in a letter to the Pope that she is his niece. The King of England learns through this letter that his wife is still living, and is at length reunited to her. The archbishop of Tours permits Martin to place his mother's severed hand on the stump, and the two are united by a miracle. Antonius, with Brice and his wife Ludiene, goes back to Constantinople, Henry and Heleine live with Pope Clement in the Vatican, and Martin remains in Tours, where he becomes archbishop.
The chap-book romances of Genoveva, Griseldis, Hirlanda ^{(of Arthurian legend)}, and Florentia (la Bonne Florence, also known as Crescentia or Zumurrud) may be referred to as variants of the story of the innocent persecuted wife, though it is unnecessary to cite them ii connection with the Catskin story.
The episode is related almost identically in the thirteenth-century romance of Mai and Bêaflôr.
They fit out a ship and put her on board with provisions for two or three months, and with all the valuables inherited from her mother. Bêaflôr comes to "Meienlant", where Count Mai receives her, and gives her into his mother's care. Presently, after he has married her, contrary to his mother's wish, Mai is bent for to help his uncle in Spain against the heathen. During his absence, Bêaflôr bears a son; the news is sent to the count, but the messenger is intercepted by the mother-in-law at Claremont (Klaremunt), where she has gone to reside, and robbed of his letter whilst he is drunk, a false letter being substituted. On his return, he is again waylaid, and the count's letter is exchanged for one ordering the death of Bêaflôr. She is, however, rescued from this fate, and put in a boat with her child. Mai returns, and, learning all, stabs his mother and banishes the messenger. Bêaflôr drifts away to her own shores; the shipwright Thibalt recognises the boat he had built for her foster parents. Bêaflôr is again received into their home. Her child is taken to the cathedral to be christened by the Pope, receiving the name of Schoifloris (though in the course of the poem he is only called Lois). Mai comes
after some years, to soothe his conscience, and Lois is sent to meet him. In this way he is subsequently re-united to Bêaflôr. Mention must here be made of the similar case of the Countess of Anjou. (Manuscrits de la Bibliotheque du Roi, by Paulin Paris, vol. vi, p. 40).
After many wanderings, and all sorts of adventures, she marries the Count of Bourges, but the Countess of Chartres, his aunt, is furious at the misalliance--for she is ignorant of his wife's rank--and she plays the role usually assigned to the mothers-in-law.
I have reserved one other version of the ancient romance, this time attaching to the daughter of a Czar of Russia. Again, as in the folk-tales, this is a case of O matre pulchra filia pulchrior. Her story is said to have been composed by Giovanni Enenkel in the thirteenth century. I have taken it from the Gesammtabenteuer of Friedrich Heinrich von der Hagen (Stuttgart and Tubingen, 1850, ii, 590). It is called "Deu tochter des Kuniges von Reuzen".
The barrel in which the heroine is marooned gets carried to Greece, where the king espies it and has it landed. He marries the heroine. Then follow the incidents of the king's absence at the war, and the calumniated wife and intercepted letters. The heroine is put back into the barrel with her newborn child, and the waves carry her, where she is rescued by a nobleman. Eventually her husband finds her when he comes to do penance.
A drama, entitled "Un Miracle de Nostre-Dame", the author of which has taken his subject from the Roman de la Manekine, is published in the Theatre Francais au Moyen Age (publie d'apres les Manuscrits de la Bibliotheque du Roi, par MM. L. J. N. Monmerque et Francisque Michel [xi-xiv siècles], Paris, 1842. Pp. 481-500).
The following is an outline of the plot as disclosed by the dramatis personae. 
[···] Heroine is put alone in ship; is found by the provost of the king of Scotland. King questions her as to her parentage, etc. She says she is called Bethequine. Queen-mother befriends her, and she serves as chamber-maid. Presently queen ill-treats her, thinking she aspires to marriage with her son. King asks why she has been weeping; will marry her at Chester, and proclaim her queen. His mother is very angry. He is to attend tournament at Senlis; leaves his wife in provost's care; when her child is born they are to inform him by sealed letter. After king's departure, heroine bears a son. King's mother intercepts messenger, who is carrying news to king, makes him drunk, and changes letter for one announcing that young queen has borne a monster, which they have burned, and that they await orders whether to burn young queen also. King reads letter; sends written order by messenger, who is again intercepted by queen-mother, made drunk, and robbed of letter directing that queen and infant shall be kept apart in secret till his return. Queen-mother substitutes letter commanding that queen and progeny be instantly burned. Courtier, who reads king's letter, is filled with pity, and tells queen, who is dismayed and full of wonder, and prays to Virgin. Chevalier and provost take counsel together, and determine to save queen's life. They put her in a boat without rudder or helm, that she may be at the mercy of God. Lady insists on sharing her fate. She is rescued by a senator, who takes her to his wife, who befriends her, and lets her live with them. King of Scotland returns; inquires for wife and child. Chevalier says they have been burned according to his order. King says lie gave orders for them to be confined in a tower till his return. Letter is shown to him; he questions messenger; sends for mother, who, on being threatened, confesses, and is imprisoned for life. King will punish with death by burning the two courtiers who executed queen-mother's orders. They confess they disobeyed, and spared the young queen's life. He takes them with him, and sets out to seek her. They make pilgrimage. Senator meets the king of Scotland; takes him to his house. Queen hides, being afraid to meet her husband. King sees the child playing with a ring which he recognises as one he gave his wife. Senator tells him how he found the child's mother, and how he has taken care of her. King embraces his wife. They attend the service at which the Pope is to give absolution to penitents. Service is about to commence. Clerk enters in great alarm to say he can get no drop of water from the river, because of a hand which keeps floating up to his bucket. He brings the hand to the Pope; queen says it is hers, and tells the Pope her story. He touches her arm with the hand, which immediately is reunited to it.
The same subject has found dramatic treatment in Italy, in La Rappresentazione di Santa Uliva (Pisa, 1863. The date of the 1st edition is not known). Alessandro d'Ancona has given an account of this play, which he publishes in his Sacre Rappresentazione dei Secoli, xiv, xv, xvi (Firenze, 1872. Vol. iii, pp. 235 seq.). The commencement is almost identical with that of the Manekine, except that the damsel cuts off both her hands. She falls in with the king of Britain, who takes her to his palace, and gives her charge over the infant prince. A baron becomes enamoured of her, and, in repelling his advances, she upsets the cradle, which, as she has no hands, she is unable to replace. The baron accuses her of murdering the child, who has been killed by the fall. She is condemned to death, but the seneschal takes pity on her, and leads her to the forest in which she had been found. The Virgin appears to her, restores her hands, and points her to a convent where she can find shelter. A wicked priest accuses her of stealing a chalice. She is placed in a boat, and abandoned to the waves. Certain merchants come across her, and take her to the king of Castile, who marries her, and shortly afterwards leaves her to go to war. In the meantime Uliva bears a son, and receives precisely the same treatment from her mother-in-law as does Joie in the Manekine. Uliva is once more exposed in a boat, and arrives at length where she finds her husband, who has come to seek absolution for having caused his mother's death in his wrath against her for her wicked machinations. The King of Castile recognises his wife, and all ends happily.
The Rappresentazione di Stella, also published in D'Ancona's Sacre Rappresentazione, has much the same incidents as the story of St. Uliva.
Stella is the stepdaughter of a French queen, who is very jealous of her beauty and popularity. The assassins to whom she is delivered spare her life, but cut off her hands to take as token to her stepmother (notice the Snow White opening!). The Duke of Burgundy finds Stella in the forest and weds her. It is the stepmother of Stella in this case who exchanges the letters.The history of the daughter of the King of Dacia (Novella della figlia del re di Dacia. Pisa, i. 1866. Introd. by Wesselofsky) differs but little from the foregoing up to the point of her first marooning. There a German prince, the Duke of Apardo, sees her, and falls in love with her. The miracles follow. Elisa recovers her hands; directed by celestial voices, Apardo inclines to wed the lovely stranger; and the marriage takes place, leading to the usual plots against the young wife. Once more on the shore from where she was first marooned, Elisa is engaged by another German nobleman as nursemaid to his son. The Duke of Apardo, visiting her master, recognises her as his wife.
The greater part of these incidents are met with again in a Catalonian version,⁵² Historia del rey de Hungria, cited by le Comte de Puymaigre (Documentos de la corona de Aragon, vol. xiii. Documentos leterarios en antiqua lingua catalana. Siglo xiv y xv. Barcelona, 1857, pp; 53-79). In this the heroine, with her hands cut off, lands at Marseille. The Count of Provence marries her in spite of his mother. Learning his wife's story, the count visits Hungary, her country, where he is detained so long at the court that the wicked mother-in-law, during his absence, has time to carry out the usual plot against the young wife. The countess is set adrift on the sea, and lands near to a convent, where the abbess admits her. Five years afterwards, when one day she is at her orisons, she sees a priest who is wanting to say Mass, but has no one to serve it. She is filled with desire to assist him, and suddenly perceives two beautiful hands, which unite to her arms as she stretches them forth. Meanwhile, the count had returned to Marseille; but, feeling angered against his mother, had determined to quit his estates only to return when he had found his wife. After thirteen years' quest, he finds her at the convent, and takes her back to Marseille. They have many children. One of their daughters marries a king of France, another a king of Castile, and a third a king of England.

In the fifteenth century, Bartolomeo Fazio di Spezia wrote a story entitled De origine belli inter Gallos et Britannos, which he acknowledged to be based upon an ancient text in the vernacular^. This professed history of the origin of the Hundred Years' War was forthwith related in Italian by Jacopo di Poggio Bracciolini,^.in a story which was published under the title Storia dell' origine della guerra tra i Francesi e gli Inglesi (Florence, 1542), republished as Novella di incerio autore (Florence, 1834), and as Novella della Pulzella di Francia dove si racconta l'origine delle guerre fra i Francesi e gli Inglesi (Lucca, 1850).
The princess of England is sent for her safety to a convent in the French town of Vienne under the charge of trusty servants. It is the custom of the dauphin of France to frequent this same nunnery in the company of a young nobleman, who is the abbess's brother. One day, the latter catches sight of the young princess through a grating, and every day, under pretence of praying, he comes to look at her. He falls ill, and confides the reason to the dauphin, who at length asks the abbess to interfere in her brother's behalf. Seeing him in danger of death, she is prevailed upon she talks to the princess, pointing out the difficulties and dangers inseparable from monastic life, and persuades her that marriage will ensure greater peace of mind. But the princess cannot consent to break her vows. Hearing of the girl's answer, and wishing to judge whether she who had caused his friend's illness merited so much love, the dauphin determines to have a look at her. Then he falls in love with her himself; and sends proposals of marriage, which she at first rejects, but eventually accepts. The dauphin's mother tries secretly to poison his bride, with the aid of some friends in Vienne. The King of France dies, and the dauphin must go to Paris to attend his funeral and be made king. His mother wants him to abandon his wife, who, she says, is some unknown waif. He is indignant at the request; and his mother, hearing from her friends in Vienne that the queen is too well guarded for them to poison her, bids them calumniate her to her husband. The young queen escapes with her little son and finds shelter. The Emperor Henry sees her, and engages her as nursemaid to his infant. Meanwhile, the dauphin, now king, having heard the false news of his wife's death, and of all his mother's infamous schemes, declares war against her. After three years he defeats her and slays her. Full of remorse, he journeys to seek absolution from the Pope. Dining one day at a feast, he is charmed with the graceful bearing of a young boy, and wants to take him away with him. It is the son of the nursemaid, in whom he recognises his wife. They return in triumph to his kingdom. When another son is born to him, he decides that the elder shall reign in France, and the younger shall succeed to the English throne, which his wife has inherited on the death of Edward. Furthermore, the king enacts in his will that every year, at Easter and at Christmas time, the King of England shall come to Paris and serve at the table of the King of France. This arrangement is observed for a number of years; but one day the King of Great Britain, ill-advised by his ministers, refuses to submit to the performance of such an act of homage; and this was the cause of the great wars, and of the animosity between the two kingdoms, which lasted up to the times of the author of this story.
The collation of similar legends and romances might doubtless be still extended. It seems, however, unnecessary to devote further space to the examination of this class of literature, more especially as the various motifs which it shares in common with the folk-tale are of such a nature as to need, unhappily, neither myth nor fiction to account for their origin, or to explain their application in any particular connection.
"Non ragionam di lor, ma guarda e passa."

30: An analysis of la Manekine is given in l'Histoire litteraire de la France, t. xxii, p. 864. See also t. xv, p. 394; t. xxii, p. 228; t, xxiii, p. 680.

31: This is the Philippe of Beaumanoir who wrote the Coutumes du Beauvoisis and the Blonde d'Oxford. Suchier thinks (see op. cit.) that he most probably visited England in his youth, and there made acquaintance with the Manekine. He considers it improbable that the Vita Offa Primi was his source, as Philippe's version does not share in its disfigurements.

32: Nicolas Trivet was art English Dominican friar. He is said to have been educated in his early years in London, and afterwards to have studied at Oxford. He informs us, in the prologue to the Annales Regum Angliae that he spent some time in study in Paris.

34: For the chief alterations see preface to Trivet's Life of Constance in Originals and Analogues of some of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, edited by Furnivall, Brock, and Clouston, p. vi.
37: See Clouston on "The Innocent Persecuted Wife", in Originals and Analogues, pp. 367 ff.
40: See Graesse, Die Grossen Sagenkreise des Mittelalters. 
42: Heleine's adventures are thus made to take place in the fourth century, if she was the mother of Saint Martin, Bishop of Tours (374).

43: For further details, see Gorres, op. cit., p. 138; and Ch. Nisard, Histoire des livres populaires, i, pp. 415 ff. The same legend is told also in Backstrom's Svenska Folkböcker, i, 188, "Helena Antonia af Constantinopel"; and in R. Nyerup's Morskabstasning: Danmark og Norge (1816), p. 138, "Den talmodige Helene". (See Merzdorf, op. cit., pp. 18 ff. for references to Dutch, Danish, and Swedish translations.

Dieses Märchen „entstammt der Mondmythologie und zeigt in eindrucksvollen Bildern, was Leid, Widersprüche und Enttäuschungen positiv bewirken und wie sie uns im Leben voranbringen können. [… Es geht] um die Balance von Männlichem und Weiblichem, um Festhalten und Loslassen.“

Nun einige Lesemöglichkeiten zur Subjektwerdung:

Immer matter werdend – wir sehen dieses grausame Mondphasenspiel allmonatlich am Himmel – findet sie – das sehen wir allabendlich – ihren Prinzgemahl, die Sonne. Die äußerste Erschöpfung bringt als Leidensende die hochzeitliche Vereinigung beider; Aus der schmalen Mondsichel steigt allmonatlich das gemeinsame Kind, der wachsende Mond. Leid wird zu Glück und Regeneration, um wieder im neuen Lauf zu versinken. Was dabei nicht zu sehen ist, ist die Hoffnung wider alle Hoffnung auf ein Ende des Schicksalslaufes, auf bleibendes Glück, auf wahre Vollendung. Diese naturmythologische Deutung löst Eugen Drewermann in eine tiefenpsychologische: Der Wald als Ort des Unbewussten, wo der Mensch seinem Schatten begegnet; der Weg als Irrweg und Zuflucht des Menschen; der Baum des Lebens (Erkenntnis und Wahrheit): Dies sind quasi die Zutaten des Märchens. Die Personen darin: der Teufel als die innerste Eigenversuchung (unschuldig schuldig), das Mädchen als innerste Lebenshoffnung (das Selbst, das es zu verlieren gilt; die Macht der Verwandlung und die Eigenverantwortung; die Seele wie die Freiheit, die es oft schmerzlich zu erringen gilt),  der Priester (Er sollte den Geist anreden. An dieser Figur ließen sich religiöse Behinderungen wie auch Freisetzungen an der Subjektwerdung weiterdenken.), die Mutter (Gnadenhaftigkeit des Daseins), der König (symbolischer Vater, der zunächst die Krüppelhaftigkeit nur verlängert). 

Sie geht in die Welt hinaus und wünscht als Nicht-Handeln-Könnende Mitleid der Anderen, wissend dies ist kein Leben. Sie richtet sich’s also in den eigenen Hemmungen zunächst ein und findet dadurch ihren König (Übertragungsliebe). In einem umgekehrten Sündenfall (Gen 3, 24) lernt sie die Erlaubtheit des Verbotenen (Sitte und Entschuldung) und Mut zur Schuld. Sie lernt erstmals um. Die Großzügigkeit des Königs muss ihr göttlich vorkommen, erzeugt aber Schuldgefühle und Missverständnisse, als lebten sie in entfernten Ländern und der Teufel verdrehe jedes Wort. Aber es sind des Königs Gaben, die an ihr wachsen, nicht die eigenen Hände zunächst. Die Gültigkeit dieser Liebe ist noch keine. Sie muss wieder ausziehen: Diesmal aus dem selbst zum Selbst. Und dies gelingt ihr transzendierend in der Hinwendung von vermeintlicher Verlässlichkeit der Menschen hin zu einem absoluten Seinsgrund. Nicht Menschen sind einander alles! Den Halt in einem Nichtmenschlichen zu finden, ermöglicht ein Leben unter Menschen. In so einem Weltenhaus wohnt ein jeder frei!

Ohne Schuld kann das Mädchen etwas in die Hand nehmen (auch sein eigenes Leben). Der ewigen Vereinigung mit dem König steht nun nichts mehr entgegen.

Die in Zürich tätige Psychodramatherapeutin und Psychologin, Maja Storch, macht uns Frauen hier mit der analytischen Pschyologie von C.G. Jung „vertraut, und erklärt, warum wir starken Frauen in der heutigen Zeit in dem romantischen Dilemma stecken. [...]
Sie versucht alleine zurecht zu kommen und trifft den Mann, den sie liebt und er liebt sie. Sie kommen zusammen und trotzdem funktioniert es nicht. Irgendwie führen sie die Ehe der Eltern weiter, beide wollen es nicht, er flüchtet bzw. zieht in den Krieg und sie... verschwindet sie auch. Beide begeben sich auf die Suche zu sich selbst. Und immer wieder kommt der Teufel ins Spiel, stellt sie auf die Probe. Der starke Mann begibt sich endlich auf die Suche nach ihr und sie lebt mit ihrem Kind Scherzensreich alleine in einer Hütte im Wald. Und irgendwann findet er die Hütte im Wald. Müde von der Suche ruht er sich aus und legt sich ein Tuch über das Gesicht. Und nun erkennt sie dieser Mann, der sie sieben Jahre gesucht hat, ... Auch der Mann, sieht seine Frau nun anders. Sie ist nicht mehr die schwache Frau, der die Hände fehlen. Sie hat die Entwicklung zur starken Frau abgeschlossen, und hat wieder beide Hände. Er sieht nun, sie braucht nicht mehr seine Hilfe um sich in der Welt zurecht zufinden. Dies ist nun die Grundlage um neu zu beginnen.“Anders als bei Drewermann liegt hier in der Jung´schen Interpretation der Ermöglichungsgrund der Selbstwerdung des Mädchens nicht außerhalb/außerweltlich gleichsam, sondern die freisetzende, erkennende, Geschichte überdauernde, aneinander sich wandelnde Liebe in diesen beiden Menschen ermöglicht für beide die Selbstwerdung.

Der Weg vom Ego zum Selbst zum SELBST

Stufe

Stationen

Männlicher / Maskuliner Aspekt DOMINANZ

Weiblicher / Femininer Aspekt UNTERWERFUNG

3.	Bewusst Stumm – Tabuwahrend	Mann/König Ambivalent suchende Persona	Schwiegermutter Differenzierende Verbündete
4.	Bewusst Ausgesprochen Tabubrechend	Durch Schmerz gewandelter neuer Mann	Geheilte neue Frau Heil gewordene, wieder handlungsfähige Genesende

LA VENUS D'ILLA: VERSIÓ TEATRAL

ACTE I

dimecres a la tarda

(vidéo: approche d’Ille, voix off de Pons)

Què ho fa que Illa del Riberal sigui terra d’escriptors? Ho sabria pas dir, mes sé que per jo escriure és tota la meua vida.
Ara mateix acabi d’escriure un quelcom sobre La Venus d’Illa. Ja sabeu, aquella història d’en Prosper Mérimée...

ESCENA 1 : JS Pons evoca la lectura de joventut de La Venus d’Illa

(sur un côté de la scène, «chez Pons» petite table de travail, la gouvernante entre et dépose une infusions à côté de Pons)

GOVERNANTA - La vostra aigua d’herbes monsior Pons... maneu res plus?

JS PONS - No Janette, ja podes anar a dormir

(la gouvernante sort, Pons s’adresse au public)

JS PONS -Qui ha pas llegit La Venus d’Illa?

Aqueixa història havia seduit la meua joventut, entusiasmada tot primer per El darrer dels Mohicans i per Robinson Crusoe...

Pensi que és aixί com vaig conèixer el romanticisme. No m’hagués imaginat mai una vida aixί en el meu vilatge!
Penseu que jo en aquella epoque, m’havia inventat fins i tot un divertiment nocturn. Sense ho saber, els meus companys hi feien de comparses...

(sur l’écran une scène dans le vieil Ille, cour du comte + ruelles, la nuit, on perçoit la lumière d’une lanterne, on entend le bruit des enfants qui courent et qui jouent à «se faire peur» en cherchant la Vénus, petit dialogue enregistré)

Diu que Mérimée, esdevingut Inspector dels Monuments Historiques, va venir de visita al Rosselló el novembre de disevuit cents trenta quatre, ho va deixar escrit en les seues Notes d’un viatge al sud de França...

ESCENA 1 BIS Arribada de Mérimée a Illa i descoberta de la Venus

(l’écran s’illumine Mérimée dans son cabinet de travail écrit, voix off qui parle « Baixava...» l’image de Mérimée disparaît remplacée par une jolie vue du Canigou, un zoom se dirige vers Serrabona, première phrase de Mérimée suivie du bruit de pas sur le chemin de la descente, vue de la plaine depuis Casafabre. Mérimée + Catalan en off « Segurament que ...»)

Mérimée - Baixava jo l’últim pendίs del Canigó i, tot i que el sol ja s’havia gairebé amagat, distingia cap a la plana les cases de la petita vila d’Illa del Riberal vers la qual em dirigia.

Segurament que vós sabeu on s’està el senyor de Peyrehorade, fa?

El Català - O i tal, que ho sé! memes que li conec la casa tan bé com la meua! Si fes pas nits us la mostraria, és la més guapa d’Illa.

Oh, ten sous, monsior de Peyrehorade, sί ; i casa el fill a més ric encara que no pas ell... el casa demà o passat demà amb la pubilla de Puiggarrig...

Serà un gran quelcom, ja ho crec! Un casament Tremblant...

(Mérimée et le Catalan arrivent sur scène du côté opposé de « chez Pons », le catalan porte le bagage de M)

CATALÀ - Arribem... Us hi jugueu un cigarro a que endevini lo que aneu a fer a cal monsior de Peyrehorade?

MERIMEE - Això rai, no és pas gaire difίcil d’endevinar. A l’hora que és, i després de sis llegües pel Canigó, la gran qüestió és sopar! (il lui tend un cigare)

CATALÀ -Sί, mes, i demà?... Tè, m’hi jogarïi lo que fos a que veniu a Illa per veure l’idole? Ho sun tot comprès quan us he vist dibuixar els sants de Serrabona.

MÉRIMÉE - L’ίdol, quin ίdol?

CATALÀ -I com! Us ho han pas explicat a Perpinyà que monsior de Peyrehorade havia trobat un idole dessota terra?

MÉRIMÉE - Voleu dir una estàtua de terra cuita, d’argila?

CATALÀ -No pas! ben bé de coure que era, sί... N’hi ha per se fer un bon grapat de sous, sabeu... Fatxos! Us pesa tant com una campana d’iglésia... I ben fonda al peu d’una olivera que la vam trapar...

MÉRIMÉE - Que hi ereu vós a la descoberta?

CATALÀ -Sί senyor. Hi ha quinze dies monsior de Peyrehorade ve i ens diu, al Jan Coll i a mi, que arrenquem una vella olivera que s’havia gelada l’any passat, ja sabeu lo dolent que va ser...

Donques, mitaquί que el Jan Coll que hi posava tot el seu saber, va i dóna un gran cop de cavaçó, i senti biimm... com si hagués tustat sus d’una campana. 
Què passa? dic jo, i cava que cavaràs vetaquί que pareix una mà negra, semblava talment la mà d’un mort que sortia de terra.

Jo, mort de por, vaig xo l’amo i li faig : Hi ha morts, amo, hi ha morts sota l’olivera! Cal cridar el mossèn...
Quins morts, me diu ell. Ve, i tant bon punt veu la mà, fa: una antiguitat, una antiguitat!... Haurieu cregut que havia trobat un tresor...
I ja me’l veieu que s’hi posa ell mateix i que fa tanta feina com nosatros dos...

MÉRIMÉE - I què vareu trobar, al final?

(vidéo Vénus, différents plans, zoom au fur et à mesure du dialogue)

CATALÀ - Una gran dona negra, més que mig nuda, amb el vostre perdó, tota de coure, i monsior de Peyrehorade ens va dir que era un idole del temps dels pagans... del temps d’en Charlemagne, què!

MERIMEE - Ja veig de què va... alguna marededéu de bronze d’algun convent derruit...

CATALÀ - Sί sί, una bona marededéu! ... L’hauria reconeguda, jo, si hagués sigut una marededéu. És un idole, us dic ; se veu fora amb la cara que fa. Us clava la mirada amb aquells grans ulls blancs que dirieu que us veu ben bé. Baixeu la vista i tot quan la mireu...

MÉRIMÉE - Uns ulls blancs? Deuen ésser incrustats en el bronze. Es tracta tal vegada d’una estàtua romana...

CATALÀ - Romana! això mateix, romana, monsior de Peyrehorade diu que és una romana. Ah! Ja veig ben bé que vós també seu un savi com ell...

MÉRIMÉE - I és sencera, està ben conservada?

CATALÀ - I o, li falta pas res. És més bel·la i més ben acabada que el bust de guix pintat d’en Louis-Philippe que hi ha a la Mairie. Mes, can memes, la seua figura me reven pas... fa cara de dolenta... I ho és que és dolenta...

MÉRIMÉE - Dolenta? Quina dolenteria us ha fet?

CATALÀ - Pas a mi, no, al pobre Jan Coll! Li va esclafar la cama quan la sallien del forat. El tenim al llit de fa quinze dies... pobre Jan, ell que corria com dingús i que, després del fill de l’amo, era el nostre millor pilotaire...quin domatge!

(M de Peyrehorade apparaît pour recevoir l’hôte)

M de PEYREHORADE - Mérimée! Sigueu benvingut, us esperàvem... mes entreu, entreu, arribeu a punt per sopar...

ESCENA 2 : A cals Peyrehorade

(Dans le salon des Peyrehorade, repas du soir, des allées et venues des servantes avec des plats, bouteilles etc.  Alphonse immobile à côté de Mérimée)

MADAME PEYREHORADE - (lui tendant un plat) Més millassos, monsior Mérimée? Són calents, vénen d’ésser fets... preniu, preniu...

M DE PEYREHORADE (bouteille à la main) - Tasteu-me aqueix Cotlliure, Mérimée, això sί que és vi...

(Mérimée n’en peut plus de manger)

Ah, ara sί que seu meu, benvolgut. Us deixaré pas anar sense que hagueu vist abans totes les nostres meravelles!

M de PEYREHORADE Us el cal conèixer el nostre Rosselló i li fer justici... Us ho imagineu pas, tenim monuments fenicis, celtes, romans, àrabs, bizantins... Ho veureu tot, del més gros al més petit...

(M de PEYREHORADE se lève pour aller chercher un livre)

ALFONS -Porteu una ben bonica cadena, l’heu comprada a París?

(M PEYREHORADE revient et reprend la conversation avec Mérimée montrant le livre)

M de PEYREHORADE - Espieu, espieu... Us duré a tot arreu, a tot arreu...

MÉRIMÉE (toussotant) - Creieu que us ho ben agraeixo, però no voldria pas fer nosa en uns dies tan assenyalats per a la vostra famίlia...

(ils commencent à se lever de table, Mme PEYREHORADE va à la cuisine)

M PEYREHORADE - Ah! Voleu parlar del casament del pallago? Bagatel·la! Sereu dels nostres, naturalment... Oh, serem en família, la futura porta dol d’una tieta... domatge! Haurieu vist ballar les nostres catalanes... Quin bé de déu!

Ho és que vós n’heu vistos segurament d’atres, de casaments, a París és atra cosa, segur...
Mes, ja veureu quina nòvia... Una nòvia que ja m’en direu noves...

Vós seu un home de seny perxò, i us tinc reservada una sorpresa, quelcom que us agradarà.

Mes ja en parlarem demà, demà veureu quelcom...

(Mme PEYREHORADE revenant de la cuisine l’interromp)

Mme PEYREHORADE- Deixa’t d’idoles, Peyrehorade, va. Monsior n’ha vistes pla d’atres a París i més guapos encara. Pensa-te, a les Tuileries n’hi ha dotzenes, i de bronze també...

M PEYREHORADE - Santa ignorància! La santίssima ignorància de la província! Comparar una antiguitat admirable ambe les vulgars figures de les Tuileries!

«Amb quina irreverència
parla dels déus la parenta!»

Sabeu que la dona volia que fongués la meua estàtua per en fer una campana per l’iglésia? Una obra mestra d’en Myron, monsior!

Mme PEYREHORADE - Una obra mestra! Una obra mestra! Una bona obra mestra la que ha fet! Mireu que trencar la cama d’un home!

M PEYREHORADE- (tendant la jambe) Veues dona? Espia, si la meua Venus m’hagués trencat aqueixa cama, i bé, tindria pas cap regret!

Mme PEYREHORADE - Bon déu de la creu! Peyrehorade! com podes dir un quelcom aixís! Horosament que l’home va millor... I encara és l’hora que puc pas espiar una estàtua que fa malurts d’aqueixos. Pobre Jan Coll!

M PEYREHORADE - Ferit per Venus, monsior, i encara se queixa el molt bergant!

(MERIMEE baille, Mme PEYREHORADE prend un chandellier, tout le monde suit)

Mme PEYREHORADE - Deveu ser ben crevat! Us mostrarem la vostra cambra. Oh, no és pas com a París aquί. A províncies ja se sap...

ESCENA 2 BIS, els galifardeus (gamins)

(les gamins, un d'eux siffle Muntanyes regalades, la Vénus se venge)

GALIFARDEU 1 - Mitaquί la barjaula! Espieu-la! Ets tu que has trencat la cama al Jan Coll! Si fossis meua te trencariï el coll, jo.

GALIFARDEU 2 - Bah! I amb què? És de coure, i tan dura que l’Estevet hi ha trencat la llima al dessús. És coure del temps dels pagans; és més durt que sé pas què.

GALIFARDEU 1 - Si tingués el meu cisell li faria saltar aqueixos ulls blancs... Això val sous, més de cent sous de plata!

(s’eloignent)

GALIFARDEU 1 - Me li cal dire bona nit a l’idole.

(il lance la pierre)

GALIFARDEU 1 - Ai, ai! me l’ha tornada!

ACTE 2

ESCENA 3 Dijous, Controvèrsia sobre les inscripcions i visita a Puiggarrig.

(Mérimée est devant sa tasse de chocolat, M. Peyrehorade entre)

M PEYREHORADE - Mireu els mandrosos de la capital!...Què me’n dieu d’aquesta xocolata? És de veritable contraban. Una xocolata com n’hi ha pas a París...

 Cuitem, Mérimée, la Venus ens espera!

(M. PEYREHORADE et Mérimée se dirigent du côté de la Vénus, Mérimée l’observe)

MÉRIMÉE - Si aquest model ha existit mai, cosa que dubto, planyo de tot cor els seus amants. Els devia fer morir de desesperació! No he vist mai una cosa més bella... Ni una expressió tan ferotge...

M PEYREHORADE - «És la veritable Venus ferran la seua presa» Ara que l’heu admirada de cap a peus, benvolgut col·lega, obrim si us plau una conferència cientίfica.

Què me’n dieu d’aquesta inscripció? (Il lui montre le socle)

MÉRIMÉE - Vejam... CAVE AMANTEM.

M PEYREHORADE - Quid dicis doctissime? Viam si estem d’acord sobre el sentit d’aquest CAVE AMANTEM.

MÉRIMÉE - Té dos sentits, me sembla. Es pot traduir : «Guarda’t de qui t’estima, malfia’t dels amants» però, en aquest sentit no sé si cave amantem seria prou llatί.

Veient l’expressió diabòlica de la dama, jo diria més aviat que l’artista ha volgut alertar l’espectador contra aquesta terrible beutat. Jo traduiria doncs: «Guarda’t si ella t’estima».

- Mmm! Sί, és possible. Mes, sense voler desplaure, prefereixo la primera traducció i m’explicaré... Ja coneixeu l’amant de Venus.

MÉRIMÉE - N’hi ha més d’un.

M PEYREHORADE - Sί, mes el primer és Vulcà. No voldria dir més aviat : «Tot i la teua bellesa i el teu aire desdenyós, tindràs un manyà, un pobre coix per amant»?
Una gran lliçó per a les coquetes, monsior.

MÉRIMÉE - (ironique) És una llengua terrible el llatί, amb la seua concisió.

M PEYREHORADE - Oh i espereu, què hi llegiu aquί? (il lui montre le bras droit de la statue)

MÉRIMÉE- VENERI TURBUL... EUTIQUES MYRO...IMPERIO FECIT

M PEYREHORADE - I què vol dir segons vós? Què vol dir aquest TURBUL?

MÉRIMÉE- És força desconcertant... què us semblaria TURBULENTA ? Venus que es transtorna, que s’agita...

M PEYREHORADE - Venus Turbulenta! Venus esvalotaire! Ah! vós creieu que la meua és una Venus de cabaret, belleu?

TURBUL, monsior, (M. Peyrehorade s’approche de Mérimée et baisse le ton de la voix) vol dir TURBULNERA... aquί a costat hi ha un vilatge que se diu Bulaternera, no ho enteneu, Merimée? I sί! Bulaternera és una deformació del llatí Turbulnera perquè Bulaternera havia estat romà... i abantes fenici! I...

(voix off de Mme de P qui interrompt la tirade de M. Peyrehorade )

Mme PEYREHORADE - Peyrehorade! Vine, cuita!

(M. Peyrehorade sort, Mérimée pouffe de rire, sort son carnet de dessin et commence un croquis, Alfons apparaît et regarde par-dessus son épaule)

ALFONS - Farieu també el retrat de la meua dona? Avui la veurem i comprovareu que és molt bonica també... oh, ja sé que a París seu molt dificiles ambe les dones mes, aquί, a Perpinyà, tothom la troba xarmanta... i rica a més a més, la seua tieta de Prades li ha dixat tot lo que tenia... Ah!... seré la mar de feliç!

Daixò... us volia demanar..., vós en deveu sapiguer de joies... espieu aqueixa aliança que li donaré demà, què me’n dieu?

MÉRIMÉE - És un anell molt bonic, llàstima que aquests diamants li facin perdre el seu caràcter...

ALFONS - Oh! és més bel·la aixίs. N’hi ha per dotze cents francs de diamants aquί dessus, sabeu? La mare me l’ha donat, és una baga de familia molt antiga, del temps de la cavalleria... I mira quina inscripció! Llig-la: "Sempre amb tu!"

MÉRIMÉE - A París hi ha costum de donar un anell ben senzill. Té, l’anell que porteu al dit faria molt. Aquest altre és molt gros...

ALFONS - Oh, madama Alfons segur que estarà contenta, penseu-vos, dotze cents francs al dit sempre vénen bé!
(l’air confidentiel) - Aqueix pitit és una meuca de París que me’l va donar.

Ah! París, París! Allò sί que és viure...!

(M. Peyrehorade et Mme, en tenue de sortie, entrent en scène)

Mme PEYREHORADE - Au, anem, fem avia que avui sopem a Puiggarrig!

ESCENA 3 BIS. Casament un divendres?

(vidéo chemin de Puiggarrig, maison. Mlle de Puiggarrig et ses parents entrent en scène, Alfons et Mlle de Puiggarrig cherchent à s’écarter, minauderies)

MÉRIMÉE - (à Mme de P) Teniu ben poques manies al Rosselló, senyora! Celebrar un casament un divendres! A París ens faria més respecte això, ningú no gosaria prendre muller un dia així.

Mme de PEYREHORADE - Ai sί! ja ho podeu ben dire! Si hagués sigut per jo, seria un altre dia, mes en Peyrehorade, hi pas hagut res a fer. I mireu que això me ten neguitosa.

I si passés una desgracia?

M PEYREHORADE- Divendres, és el dia de Venus! Bon dia per un casament! Ho veieu, benvolgut col·lega, pensi fora que a la Venus. Paraula d’honor que és pensant en ella que he triat el divendres.

Demà, si voleu, abans del casament, li farem un petit sacrifici, sacrificarem dos colomins blancs, i si sabés on trobar encens...

Mme PEYREHORADE - (scandalisée) Mare de Déu, Peyrehorade! encensar un idole! Hi penses pas! què dirien al país! Mireu que sabeu...

ACTE 3

ESCENA 4 Divendres. El joc de pilota i el casament

(sur scène des préparatifs pour le mariage, la fiancée essaie la robe, ailleurs Alfons s’habille... Mérimée fait de croquis autour de la statue dans un coin)

(Voix off, on joue à la «pilota», au jeu de paume (similaire au tennis); des cris, bruits de balles qui rebondissent etc)

JOGAIRES - Vine! vine! a ne jo! a ne jo! Mal llamp...!

Aquί! aquί! tros de manicaco! Fot-li! Fot-li!

PÚBLIC - Va Jepes! Cuita Ton cuita! Oh...! Caps de porc! Fora! Fora!

Fonso! Fonso! Cridem en Fonso!

(un joueur deux raquettes à la main apparaît sur scène et s’adresse a Alfons (alias Fonso)

JANOT - Fonso! Fonso! Cal que vinguis! Els manyos! Els forasters! Els forasters guanyen!

ALFONS - (hésitant d’abord, décidé ensuite il quitte sa veste et chausse les espadrilles)

ALFONS - (regardant vers Mérimée, en prenant sa raquette) Me cal salvar l’honor del paίs!

(les autres joueurs apparaissent sur scène (3x3) Alfons se place sous les hourras du public et lance une balle, il rate son coup)

PUBLIC - Ooohh!

ALFONS (jettant sa raquette à terre) - Maleït anell! M’ha fet perdre una bona pilotada!

(Il enlève la bague et court vers la Vénus, il lui met la bague sur l'annulaire gauche et revient en courant sur le jeu, ils gagnent la partie)

(d’abord quatre coups dans le plus grand silence, on entend les efforts des joueurs)

ALFONS - Haje! Aquί, aquί Janot!

JANOT - A jo! A jo!

JEPES - Teua, Fonso!

PUBLIC - Fonso! Fonso! Hurra! Hurra!

(ALFONS et les 2 autres joueurs annoncent le départ, A. se retourne triomphant vers les Aragonais)

ALFONS - Nos retrobarem i us dixarem punts d’avança!

Un - Fa! has vist quina fart de jacos!

ARAGONÈS (serrant sa raquette) - Me les pagaràs!

(la foule suit les vainqueurs, Mme P fait irruption)

Mme PEYREHORADE - Per l’amor de déu, que te cases d’aquί mitja hora!

(Alfons se réhabille et met de l’ordre dans ses cheveux, la famille part à Puiggarrig pour le mariage, suivie par les applaudissements de la foule, de l’autre côté la famille Puigg. est prête aussi, vidéo de Puiggarrig)

(retour du cortège des mariés à Ille, le couple suscite l’admiration des villageois)

LA GENT - Visca els nuvis!

Espia, espia el vestit!

Has vist el ram, oh!

Dirieu una marededéu, visca!



ESCENA 4 Bis Sopar, l’Alfons no pot recuperar l’anell

(en off, le soir, échos de la fête, bruitage d’un repas bien arrosé, rires, chants du «Casament Tremblant»...)

L’Hortolana del Vernet (quelques vers)

Lo Poto (quelques vers)

(M. Peyrehorade fait le silence et prend la parole)

Amics! Amics! Escolteu!

«A casa dues Venus tenim,

la romana és negra i la catalana blanca,

la romana és freda, i la catalana encén

tothom que la ten!»

(gros rires et sifflets)

(Sur scène Mérimée est dehors, devant la lumière des fenêtres à travers les quelles il entend les bruits, Alfons court furtivement du côté de la Venus, il essaie de récupérer la bague il recule l’air effrayé et repart en courant du côté de Mérimée)

ALFONS - Mérimée, l’idole, l’idole! sun embruixat! la baga...la baga...

MÉRIMÉE- Què us passa, us l’han robada?

ALFONS - No! sun anat a la cercar mes... mes, ha pas volgut la dixar anar... ha pas volgut me la donar!

MÉRIMÉE- Deu ser que no heu estirat prou fort...

ALFONS - Mes sί que sun estirat, mes ella ha plegat el dit! Li sun donat l’anell i ara és la meua dona, ho compreniu pas Vós seu antiquari i en sabeu d’aqueixes coses... Aquί hi han bruixes!

(deux copains invités à la noce sortent en chantant, voyant Alfons si agité ils pensent qu’il est soul)

CONVIDAT - I bé petits, Fonso, quin gat que portem eh! Au vine que la dona t’espera

(gros rires, ils amenent Alfons à l’intérieur, Mérimée les regarde goguenard)

MÉRIMÉE - Ja li deia jo, massa vi de Cotlliure!

ESCENA 4 Bis Dissabte de matinada Final de La Venus d’Illa

(la fête est finie, Mérimée est dans sa chambre, il écrit, vidéo nuit des bruits de pas lourds, une porte qui grince, Mérimée écoute)

(Lueur de l’aube, chant du coq, un grand cri, Mérimée se précipite côté chambre nuptiale, Alfons gît sur le lit)

Mme de PEYREHORADE - Fill meu! fill meu!

M de PEYREHORADE - Alfons! Alfons! Mes, què tenes!

Mlle Puiggarrig - L’idole! l’idole!

(Mérimée constate la mort d’Alfons, les parents sont effondrés, la fiancée se débat entre deux servantes en poussant des cris inarticulés etc. Mérimée se baisse pour ramasser la bague)

(vidéo, même image devant la maison des Peyrehorade, Mérimée est sur le point de partir suivi du Catalan qui porte son bagage, ils sortent de scène en silence)

Voix off sur image d’Illa, bruit de calèche qui s’éloigne, l’image devient  gelée» peu à peu, son de cloche «tocsin»

El meu amic, el senyor de Passà, m’ha escrit des de Perpinyà i em diu que l’estatua ja no existeix, es veu que després de la mort del seu marit, la senyora de Peyrehorade la va fer fondre per fer una campana per a l’església. Diuen que a Illa, d’ençà que toca, les vinyes ja han gelat dos cops.

(«Chez Pons» s’éclaire, on voit Pons finir sa tisane et fermer le livre, il se lève et s’adresse au public)

EL SECRET DE LA VENUS D’ILLA. Epίleg

JS PONS - Ah, quina histori... mes, ben mirat, crec pas ben bé que això anés aixίs...
Teniu, el senyor de Peyrehorade, per exemple, era pas com el descrivia el seu autor, no. Era segurament un burgés jovial i bon vividor, un provincial apassionat per la seua terra...

(vers l’arrière «passage» du M. Peyrehorade 1 à Peyrehorade 2)

L’atre dia justament ell i jo parlavem de... oh, ja sé que és difίcil de creure belleu, mes en Peyrehorade me ven a veure de temps en temps. Se seu aquί a prop de la finestra i ... Té, me sembla que és ell...

(en se retournant pons a vu Peyrehorade 2 que s’est assis sur un des deux fauteuils en osier près de la fenêtre, il va le rejoindre)

PEYREHORADE 2 - Ho és que el meu autor m’ha ficat en una histori estranya que me porta prejudici de cara als meus lectors.

Parli pas del nostre debat sobre les inscripcions, no. Admeti belleu que tenia raó... Això que sobre certs punts tinc els meus dubtes...

Mes, me sap greu que hagi abusat tant de la credulitat dels lectors.

JS Pons - És pas veritat doncs?

PEYREHORADE 2 - Dic pas això... Hi ha veritat i hi ha mentides. Viam si ens entenem, monsior. El meu pobre fill mort durant la seua nit de noces. Ho podeu creure vós que la meua antiga l’hagués escanyat?

JS Pons - De cap manera, no.

PEYREHORADE 2 - Hi ha lectors que saben pas pus i el cap els hi fa fum. L’autor hi ha posat massa indicis que fan creure que la meua Venus s’ha venjat. Ha jugat amb l’absurd, monsior.

JS Pons - Ja ho veig, ja.

PEYREHORADE 2- I encara ho heu pas vist tot. És pas veritat que la meua Venus tenia una expressió d’ironia infernal... Ja la veureu, perxò i en sereu convençut...

JS Pons - I com se pot? la varen pas convertir en campana?

PEYREHORADE 2 - Jo vivent, monsior, mai de la vida!

Si l’estatua existeix pas més, també podem suposar que ha pas mai existit...

JS Pons - I bé, és això que tothom pensa...

PEYREHORADE 2 - Reflectim, monsior... Què serà de jo si me priven de la meua descoberta? Jo també me cal dubtar de la meua descoberta?

JS Pons - Sembla que és una descoberta força possible.

PEYREHORADE 2 - Vós ho heu dit, monsior, perquè la nostra terra fa tanta flaira d’Antiguitat que a qualsevol moment us pot sortir una deesa.
Penseu en totes aqueixes riqueses sepultades que trobem a Empúries, a Ruscino, al Pireu...

JS Pons - Oh, és pla lluny el Pireu!

PEYREHORADE 2 - Mes Portvendres és ben a prop. És allà que s’aixecava el temple de Venus. Plini li va posar el nom de Venus Pirene. Era famosa a tot el paίs i mar enllà!

(vidéo aérienne du Roussillon, les deux regardent l’image, ciel bleu, on perçoit Portvendres, le cap Bear, sur es flots de a mer apparaît une image de la Venus de Maillol en transparence)

(ils se retournent à nouveau)

Mes que l’haguessin fosa per fer una campana, això s’ho voldrà pas creure ningú; I vós tampoc us ho creieu pas...

JS Pons - Sem d’acord. Es tracta fora d’una ficció.

PEYREHORADE 2 - I força més que una ficció!
Ah! Si l’autor m’hagués consultat, prou que li hauria suggerit una atra conclusió, jo...

JS Pons - I què feu doncs, cediu?

PEYREHORADE 2 - Oh, ho faig veure, monsior. Espieu, cridi els meus homes! I mani que cavin una fossa més fonda que l’Avern. Llisquen una corda dessota les aixelles de la Venus i la tornen allà on l’havien trobada.
Tothom queda satisfet i jo ja me puc morir de sentiment, ja que el meu autor ho vol aixίs...

JS Pons - El resultat seria el mateix, haurίem perdut una obra mestra!

P2 - Quina?

JS Pons - La de Mérimée.

PEYREHORADE 2 - Ah, aquί sun mal plaçat per saber de què parleu... Més, per tot ho dir, me sembla que l’autor m’ha inventat per jugar una mala passada a qualque confrare de províncies... Mes jo vull continuar sent el Senyor de Peyrehorade, com la meua Venus vol ser la Venus d’Illa. Perquè existeix, monsior, existeix...

(Peyrehorade 2 s’éloigne pour rejoindre M. Peyrehorade 1 qui est resté au fond de la scène immobile, les deux quittent la scène)

(vidéo, c’est le soir, Pons retourne près de sa fenêtre et ouvre grand ses rideaux, il admire le ciel étoilé au clair de lune (septembre), un vif rayon de lumière projette une image qui évoque la Vénus enveloppée dans un manteau bleu ciel (Vierge), voix off)

PEYREHORADE 2 - Ho veieu com existeix... I porta l’anell...

(la scène s’éteint doucement, un gamin traverse en sifflotant Muntanyes Regalades. Les acteurs sauf Mérimée et JS Pons se sont rassemblés sur scène en murmurant la chanson, éclairage et ils saluent. Mérimée entre par un côté se met devant ses «personnages», les montre et il salue. JS Pons entre de l’autre côté et fait la même chose. Les deux auteurs saluent ensemble)

FINAL