Out of the Wings

El concierto de San Ovidio (1962), Antonio Buero Vallejo

An Orchestra for St. Ovid, translated by Victor Dixon

ACT THREE

Context:

This is the first part of the epilogue that ends the play. Valentin Haüy is now an old man. Here, using extracts from one of his own letters, Haüy recalls the life-changing experience of seeing the blind musicians in Valindin’s café, thirty years ago. Since then, he has established his school for the blind.

Sample text

HAÜY:: (Reading.) ‘Nearly thirty years ago now, an outrage against Humanity, committed in public upon the persons of the blind men of the Qunize Vingts[1] and repeated daily for the space of almost two months, provoked the laughter of those who have never felt no doubt the tender emotions of sensitivity. In the month of September 1771, a café at the fair of St. Ovid exhibited a number of blind men, chosen from among those who had no other resource but the miserable and humiliating one of begging for bread upon the public street, with the help of some musical instrument.’ (He raises his eyes.) I sometimes think that no-one would recognize in me today the young hot-head I was then; the passing years, and people, have tired me so. But that was where it all started. In the face of the affront which was being inflicted upon those unfortunate creatures, I realized that my life had a meaning. I was unknown and undistinguished; Valentin Haüy, an interpreter, and a lover of music. A nobody. But the meanest of men can move mountains, if he wants to. It happened in the Place de la Concorde, where a good many other iniquities have been purged. I’ve seen heads roll there; the head of a monarch who was not so much evil as weak, and later the heads of his judges: Danton, Robespierre … it was the time of blood; but it horrified me no more than the other, the time which had brought it about, the time when all France held nothing but hunger and carnival revels. (Reading.) ‘Yes, I said to myself, seized by a noble enthusiasm, I will make this ridiculous farce a reality. I will teach the blind to read; I will place in their hands books that they themselves have printed. They will trace the characters and read what they themselves have written. And eventually I shall teach them to make harmonious music together.’ (Raising his head, and taking a few steps right.) It isn’t easy, but we are making progress. Give them time, and they will manage it, though I may not live to see it; they want it, and they’ll achieve it … some day.

[1] The Quinze Vingts is another name for the Hospital of the Three Hundred, where the men blind men lived.

Copyright

The above sample taken from the translation An Orchestra for St. Ovid by Victor Dixon is licensed under a Creative Commons License.

The Concert at Saint Ovide, translated by Gwynneth Dowling

ACT ONE

Context:

This excerpt takes place near the beginning of act 1 after Valindin has visited the Hospital of the Three Hundred requesting musicians. After he leaves, the group of blind beggars consider Valindin's offer. Gradually they are all deciding to agree, mainly in the hope of getting fed. David, however, believes that blind people have more talent than they think and that they can integrate more fully in society.

Sample text

ELIAS:

I’m in. At least we’ll fill our bellies.

DONATO: (Intrigued, he raises his head.)

David hasn’t said anything.

NAZARIO:

He’ll say yes, isn’t that right David? (Silence.) Has he gone?

DAVID:

I’m right here.

DONATO: (Anxiously.)

Are you a ‘Yes’?

DAVID:

I’m a ‘Yes’. You lot aren’t.

ELIAS:

What?

DAVID:

You think you’ve said ‘Yes’, but you’ve really said ‘No’! You’re saying yes for the food, for the girls! But when you think about picking up your violins, you’re terrified! You have to learn to say ‘Yes’ for your music, your violins! (Worked up, he moves from one man to the other.) This man Valindin isn’t a fool; he knows what he wants. I can tell we’ll get on well. He’s been thinking what I’ve been thinking for years without daring to say it. Although some of you already know what I think.

DONATO: (Moved.)

True.

DAVID:

You can do it, brothers! Each one of you can learn your part by ear, and there will be a blind orchestra!

NAZARIO:

This man is not a musician.

DAVID:

But he has musicians who also think it is possible! Brothers, we have to try our best in this. We have to convince the world that the blind are human beings not beasts!

ELIAS:

What about reading music, reading books? That’s our problem.

DAVID: (Nervously, he persists.)

We can learn to read.

ELIAS:

Nonsense!

[...]

DAVID:

Have none of you heard of Melanie de Salignac?

NAZARIO: (Mocking.)

And who might this lady be?

GILBERTO: (Smiling.)

A beautiful lady!

DAVID: (Serious.)

Yes. I truly believe she is beautiful. I believe she is the most beautiful woman in the land.

ELIAS:

And?

DAVID:

This woman knows languages, science, music ... She can read. And she can write! I don’t know how she does it, but she can read ... books!

ELIAS:

And, so?

DAVID:

She can’t see!

Copyright

The above sample taken from the translation The Concert at Saint Ovide by Gwynneth Dowling is licensed under a Creative Commons License.

ACT TWO

Context:

The group of blind musicians have assembled in Valindin’s café to try on their costumes. The costumes make a mockery of them, as does the peacock throne on which Gilberto sits. Valindin pretends that they look impressive, taking advantage of the fact that they cannot see. David, however, becomes suspicious as Valindin is dressing Gilberto in his ‘regal’ costume.

Sample text

DAVID:: Why a beard?
VALINDIN:: Because he’s King! And put on your hat – you’re the only one not wearing yours. (DAVID hesitates, then puts on the hat.) (To Gilberto.) Now pay attention, little chicken. You tie the beard round your ears with these two little pieces of string. (VALINDIN puts it on GILBERTO. It is blonde: a grotesque pointy comedy beard. GILBERTO touches it.) Yes! Touch it! You’re the very image of a Greek God.
DAVID:: Greek?
VALINDIN:: It’s just a saying.; (He makes a strange gesture to ADRIANA, forming an ‘O’ shape with his fingers and putting it to his eye. ADRIANA sighs and goes behind the platform from where she soon emerges with a little box that she leaves on the table to the left.)
GILBERTO:: What about my crown!?
VALINDIN: (Picks up the crown.): Your crown, Your Majesty! It’s from olden times, understand? It’s a helmet and it’s got two pretty wings on each side.
GILBERTO:: Two pretty wings for Chicken!
VALINDIN:: Exactly. Lower your head for me ... There. (He places it on GILBERTO’s head. The crown is silver-coloured and glittery, with a gold-coloured border and gold-coloured brooch on the front. Two great donkey’s ears stick out from the sides. GILBERTO touches it and laughs happily. VALINDIN takes a step back.) I’ve never seen such an orchestra! Adriana, look how beautiful they look! Don’t they look impressive?; (He eagerly signals for her to agree as the poor men dressed so oddly stand there.)
ADRIANA: (Avoiding his eyes.): Something’s still missing, isn’t it?
VALINDIN:: Yes. That comic touch to lighten the mood - but not too much, of course.; (DAVID has approached GILBERTO and is now touching the helmet.)
GILBERTO:: Who’s touching me?
DAVID:: These aren’t wings on this hat.
VALINDIN: (Going towards the little box, he now turns around sharply.): No? Really? What are they?
DAVID:: They aren’t wings. And the peacock represents the fool.
VALINDIN:: Really? Well, you are the expert.
DAVID: (Nervously.): No, you know much more than we do.
VALINDIN:: Then keep your mouth shut!
DAVID:: But I know that’s what the peacock represents. It’s always there on paintings of foolish kings.
DONATO:: You tell him, David!
DAVID:: Midas, for example, was cursed with donkey’s ears for his stupidity. You’re Midas, Gilberto. You’re wearing ass’s ears.

Copyright

The above sample taken from the translation The Concert at Saint Ovide by Gwynneth Dowling is licensed under a Creative Commons License.

ACT THREE

Context:

Valindin has beaten Adriana after catching her with Donato. He goes to the café where he gets drunk. David has taken the spare key for the café that Adriana keeps in her jewellery box and has let himself in. The two men are talking at a table at this point. Much of this scene takes place in the dark.

Sample text

DAVID:

You warned me earlier not to start a fight with a man who can see. Good advice. Now I’m going to return the favour.

VALINDIN: (Laughs.)

You? Let’s have it then, idiot.

(He grabs the bottle and is about to take a drink when DAVID starts speaking. VALINDIN holds the bottle to his mouth and listens.)

DAVID:

Never hit a blind man .... and never hit a woman.

VALINDIN: (Pause. Then he bursts out laughing.)

You’re threatening me! (He laughs and takes a drink. At that instant, DAVID quickly grabs the lantern, opens it and extinguishes the flame. Total darkness on stage.) What are you doing? (VALINDIN’s hands can be heard banging on the table.) Where’s the light gone?

DAVID: (His voice sounds from another part of the stage.)

It’s no longer on the table.

(Stumbling noisily, VALINDIN gets up.)

VALINDIN:

Give it to me! Fool!

DAVID:

I’ll let you in on a secret. You are never going to see Adriana again.

VALINDIN:

What are you talking about, fool? She’s mine for life!

DAVID:

That’s just it, Valindin ... You’re not going to have a life.

(Silence.)

VALINDIN: (Guardedly.)

What?

DAVID:

No more hunting your blind prey.

VALINDIN:

Bastard! I will hunt you down!

(VALINDIN can be heard moving and banging against other seats.)

DAVID: (From another part of the stage.)

The more you move, the more you’ll hurt yourself!

VALINDIN: (He stops.)

You ... you want to kill me?

DAVID:

Don’t move. Don’t speak. Because every time you do my stick knows exactly where your neck is. (Silence.) I can hear you. Don’t go near the door. (Silence.) How do you like the taste of fear, Valindin? (Silence.) The blind beggars are done praying for your dirty soul. It’s over to you, now. Start praying. If you know how to pray.

VALINDIN:

Son of a bitch!

(He hurls himself forward furiously towards where he thinks the voice is coming from. He stumbles.)

DAVID: (Laughs.)

Give it up ... I’m never where you think. But I can always tell where you are. You’re heavy, you’re breath’s noisy. And you stink! I’m going to stop talking now, Valindin.

(Silence.)

VALINDIN: (His voice is trembling.)

David! ... (More silence. VALINDIN sounds like he is on the verge of tears.) You’ve misunderstood ... I wanted to help you ... I’m not a bad person ... You’re ungrateful. All of you! (More silence. Suddenly, VALINDIN runs towards the door sobbing.) No! ... No! ... Help me! ... Adriana! ...

(A thud brings him to the ground. Maybe a couple more blows sound. The curtain falls on total silence while at the same time the foreground is lit up gradually until it is as bright as a sunny day. To the left, ADRIANA and CATALINA are listening to LATOUCHE and DUBOIS, who stand on the right.)

Copyright

The above sample taken from the translation The Concert at Saint Ovide by Gwynneth Dowling is licensed under a Creative Commons License.

The Concert at Saint Ovide (1967), translated by Farris Anderson

ACT THREE

Edition

Buero Vallejo, Antonio. 1970. ‘The Concert at Saint Ovide’, trans. Farris Anderson. In The Modern Spanish Stage: Four Plays, ed. Marion Peter Holt, pp. 1-139. New York, Hill and Wang

pp. 138-9

Context:

This excerpt comes from the final part of Valentin Haüy's monologue in act 3. After having established his school for the blind, Haüy still wonders what happened to the blind musicians who inspired him all those years ago. He has heard that one was hanged – this is presumably David. Another may be Donato, the blind street beggar who only plays Corelli’s Adagio, but Valentin cannot get him to speak about the past.

Sample text

VALENTIN:: Still, one thing troubles me. You see, I never did go back to the fair. I didn’t want to know any more about those poor blind devils who were playing there. … I began my work with others. But I heard, not so long afterwards, that one of them had been hanged. I wonder if it’s true. … Sometimes I try to find out from another blind beggar … an old man who has been playing on the street corners for years. I think he could tell me. Who knows – he may even have played with that horrible little orchestra. … But he never answers my questions. His face is terribly deformed with smallpox scars. And he seems a bit crazy. I’d like to help him … but of course he’s too old for my school … (A violin begins to play Corelli’s Adagio. HAÜY turns his head and listens.) There he is. That’s the only thing he ever plays. Corelli’s Adagio. And he’s always alone. (Sighs.) It’s true that I’m opening up new lives for the blind children in my school. Bu if it’s true that they hanged one of those blind musicians, who will answer for that death? Who can give it a meaning? (He listens to the music.) I’m an old man now. Sometimes, when I’m alone as I am now, I like to wonder if perhaps … if perhaps music is not the only answer to some questions. … (He raises his head and listens to the music.)

A slow curtain.

Copyright