Out of the Wings

Luces de Bohemia (c.1920), Ramón María del Valle-Inclán

Bohemian Lights : SCENE THREE , SCENE FOUR , SCENE SIX , SCENE THIRTEEN , SCENE FIFTEEN

Bohemian Lights (1997), translated by Maria Delgado

SCENE THREE

Edition

Valle-Inclán, Ramón María del. 1997. Three Plays: Divine Words, Bohemian Lights, Silver Face, trans. Maria Delgado. London, Methuen

pp. 107-9

Context:

Max and Don Latino are drinking in Tight Arse’s tavern. Enriqueta the Street Walker is looking for the increasingly drunk Max because he owes money for a lottery ticket. Max decides to return the ticket, but is convinced by others that he should pay for it because it contains lucky numbers. Penniless, he is forced to pawn his coat, all the while bickering and engaging with the other drinkers in the tavern.

Sample text

ENRIQUETA THE STREET WALKER, a youngish tart with a squint in one eye, known also as a newspaper and flower seller, lifts a patterned green scarf over her dark head adorned with gypsy combs.
ENRIQUETA THE STREET WALKER:: Lilies! Lilies! Don Max, I’ve got a message for you from my mother. She’s ill and needs the money you owe her for the lottery ticket.
MAX:: Giver her back the lottery ticket and tell her to go to Hell.
ENRIQUETA THE STREET WALKER:: Thank you most kindly, Sir. Is there anything else?; The blind man takes out a rather worn wallet. Flicking vaguely through its contents, he pulls out the lottery ticket and promptly throws it on the table. It lies unfolded between the wine glasses, its number clearly discernible beneath the flickering blue gaslight. ENRIQUETA THE STREET WALKER wastes no time in reaching out for it.
DON LATINO:: This one’s a winner!
ENRIQUETA THE STREET WALKER:: Don Max despises money.
THE YOUNG BARMAN:: Don’t let her escape, Don Max.
MAX:: I’ll do what I want, boy. Go and ask the boss for the box of cigars.
THE YOUNG BARMAN:: It’s a lucky number, Don Max, symmetrical sevens and fives.
ENRIQUETA THE STREET WALKER:: It’s a definite prizewinner, there’s no doubt about it! But you’ve got to cough up three pesetas and this gentleman’s staying mum. My good man, I take my leave. If you want a lily, it’s on the house.
MAX:: Hold on a minute.
ENRIQUETA THE STREET WALKER:: There’s a doddering widower pining for me.
MAX:: Let him pine a little longer. Boy, go and pawn this coat for me.
ENRIQUETA THE STREET WALKER:: They’ll not give you a thing for that old bundle of rags. Ask Tight Arse for three pesetas.
THE YOUNG BARMAN:: Give him a verse or two and he’ll slip you the money. He thinks you’re the new Castelar [1].
MAX:: Fold up the cloak and get out of here.
THE YOUNG BARMAN:: How much should I ask for it?
MAX:: Take whatever they offer.
ENRIQUETA THE STREET WALKER:: They won’t want it.
DON LATINO:: Shut up, you silly cow.
MAX:: Go on boy, as quick as you can.
THE YOUNG BARMAN:: On, on, on, on, on! To the breach; to the breach, Don Max!
MAX:: You know your classics.
ENRIQUETA THE STREET WALKER:: If they’re reluctant to accept the cloak tell them it belongs to a poet.
DON LATINO:: The Poet Laureate of Spain.
THE DRUNKARD:: An exclusive mind!
MAX:: I’ve never had any real talent. Mine’s been an absurd existence.
DON LATINO:: What you lack is the talent of knowing how to live.
MAX:: If I die tomorrow my wife and daughter will be left relying on pennies from heaven.; He gives a hollow cough, his beard shaking. His feverish eyes look sad and glazed, betraying an excess of alcohol.
DON LATINO:: You shouldn’t have pawned the cloak.

[1] Emilio Castelar y Ripoll (1832-99), former president of Spain and political historian.

Copyright

The above sample taken from the translation Bohemian Lights (1997) by Maria Delgado is licensed under a Creative Commons License.

SCENE FOUR

Edition

Valle-Inclán, Ramón María del. 1997. Three Plays: Divine Words, Bohemian Lights, Silver Face, trans. Maria Delgado. London, Methuen

pp. 113-15

Context:

After leaving the tavern, Max and Don Latino wander the streets of Madrid looking for Enriqueta, the street-walker. The earlier rioting has left the streets covered in broken glass.

Sample text

The wandering philosophers MAX and DON LATINO, two drunkards who’ve taken leave of their senses, totter beneath the shimmering glow of the street lamps.
MAX:: Where are we?
DON LATINO:: There’s no sign on this street.
MAX:: I keep stepping on broken glass.
DON LATINO:: The honourable masses have done a very good job of destroying the city.
MAX:: Where are we heading?
DON LATINO:: Just follow me.
MAX:: Take me home.
DON LATINO:: The Modernists’ haunt is still open.
MAX:: I’m tired of drinking and running around in circles.
DON LATINO:: A quick coffee will cheer you up.
MAX:: It’s cold, Latino.
DON LATINO:: The sharp night air! …
MAX:: Lend me your coat.
DON LATINO:: Poetic delirium once again!
MAX:: I’m left with no cloak, no money, and no lottery ticket.
DON LATINO:: We’ll find that street walking tart around here.; The tart in question appears beneath a street lamp: a tawdry, unkempt figure with smudged make-up, screeching out in vulgar tones.
ENRIQUETA THE STREET WALKER:: 5775! Get your lucky number here! The winner’s drawn tomorrow! Up for grabs! Up for grabs! Number 5775!
DON LATINO:: You’ve turned to advertising!
ENRIQUETA THE STREET WALKER:: I’ll buy you a coffee.
DON LATINO:: Thank you, my dear.
ENRIQUETA THE STREET WALKER:: You too, Don Max, whatever you want. Here we all are together again, three sad drop-outs! Don Max, a quick flash of my tits. It’s on the house.
MAX:: Give me the lottery ticket and go to Hell.
ENRIQUETA THE STREET WALKER:: Don Max, tell me first whether you’ve got the money to pay for it in that old wallet of yours.
MAX:: You’re a true daughter of our conservative Government!
ENRIQUETA THE STREET WALKER:: If I had as much money as this Government, I’d be made!
DON LATINO:: I’d be happy with just the interest on it!
MAX:: The Revolution is as unavoidable here as in Russia.
DON LATINO:: We won’t live to see it!
MAX:: Well then, we haven’t very long left.

Copyright

The above sample taken from the translation Bohemian Lights (1997) by Maria Delgado is licensed under a Creative Commons License.

SCENE SIX

Edition

Valle-Inclán, Ramón María del. 1997. Three Plays: Divine Words, Bohemian Lights, Silver Face, trans. Maria Delgado. London, Methuen

pp. 125-7

Context:

Max is thrown in prison after drunkenly insulting the police captain. In jail he meets a Catalan prisoner, and the two men discuss revolution and the poor condition of ordinary workers in Spain.

Sample text

The prison. A basement cell, poorly lit by a small oil lamp. A human form stirs in the shadows. Shirt, muffler, espadrilles. He walks around talking to himself. Suddenly, the door opens. MAX ESTRELLA, pushing and stumbling, is sent rolling to the back of the cell. The door slams shut.
MAX:: Bastards! Mercenaries! Cowards!
THE JAILER:: Oi, shut it or I’ll cuff you!
MAX:: Cretin!; The other inmate emerges from the darkness. Once he is lit it becomes clear that he is handcuffed, and his face covered in blood.
THE PRISONER:: Good evening!
MAX:: I’m not alone?
THE PRISONER:: So it seems.
MAX:: Who are you, comrade?
THE PRISONER:: An outcast.
MAX:: From Barcelona?
THE PRISONER:: From all over.
MAX:: An outcast! … Only Catalan workers would use such a term to paraphrase their struggle. An outcast, when coming from the likes of you is incitement. Your time is coming.
THE PRISONER:: You can see further than most. Barcelona is a web of hatred and destruction. I am a Catalan worker and I’m proud of it!
MAX:: Are you an anarchist?
THE PRISONER:: I am what the law has made me.
MAX:: We are of the same church.
THE PRISONER:: You wear a cravat.
MAX:: A halter of horrendous servility! I’ll remove it so we can talk.
THE PRISONER:: You are not a member of the proletariat.
MAX:: I am the pain of a bad dream.
THE PRISONER:: There’s something enlightening about you. You talk as if you were from another era.
MAX:: I am a blind poet.
THE PRISONER:: That’s no small misfortune! In Spain hard work and intelligence have always been despised. Here money is everything.
MAX:: We should install an electric guillotine on the streets of Madrid for public consumption.
THE PRISONER:: That’s not enough. The revolutionary objective must be the destruction of wealth, as in Russia. It’s not enough to just behead the rich – some heir or other will appear. And even when one does away with inheritance, the dispossessed continually plot to get back what they believe is theirs. We must demolish the old order, and that will only come with the destruction of wealth. Industrial Barcelona must be burnt to the ground, so that a new nation with enlightened concepts of ownership and labour can emerge from its ashes. In Europe, there is no crueler, more exploiting employer than the Catalan. Even world-wide, his only rival is the Spanish-American colonialist. Barcelona must perish if it is to be saved!
MAX:: I’m rather fond of Barcelona!
THE PRISONER:: Yes, yes, I remember, Barcelona!
MAX:: I owe her the brief moments of pleasure I have experienced during the dark hours of my blindness: every day an employer is killed, some days even now … It is some comfort.
THE PRISONER:: You don’t count the workers who fall.
MAX:: Workers multiply prolifically, somewhat like rabbits. Employers, on the other hand, breed slowly, like elephants and other powerful prehistoric beasts. Saul, we must spread our new philosophy across the world.
THE PRISONER:: My name is Matthew.
MAX:: But I baptise you Saul. I am a poet. The alphabet is therefore at my disposal.

Copyright

The above sample taken from the translation Bohemian Lights (1997) by Maria Delgado is licensed under a Creative Commons License.

SCENE THIRTEEN

Edition

Valle-Inclán, Ramón María del. 1997. Three Plays: Divine Words, Bohemian Lights, Silver Face, trans. Maria Delgado. London, Methuen

pp. 166-7

Context:

Max is lying in his coffin while some of the Modernist poets and his family mourn him. Don Latino arrives, drunk, and causes an embarrassing commotion.

Sample text

CLAUDINITA:: You’re drunk!
DON LATINO:: I may look it. I’m not even surprised to hear that I look it. But it’s grief!
CLAUDINITA:: Your breath reeks of brandy!
DON LATINO:: It’s grief! The effects of grief, scientifically corroborated by the Germans!; DON LATINO staggers to the door; his briefcase filled with magazines. His small tailless and earless dog trails between his matchstick legs. His glasses are resting over his forehead as he wipes his droopy eyes with a filthy handkerchief.
CLAUDINITA:: He’s rat-arsed!
DORIO DE GADEX:: For the funeral. You can always count on Don Latino!
DON LATINO:: Max, my brother, though less in years …
DORIO DE GADEX:: Greater in worth. Great minds think alike.
DON LATINO:: Exactly! I couldn’t have put it better myself.
DORIO DE GADEX:: The Maestro said it before we did.
DON LATINO:: Madame Collet, you are a most distinguished widow! And in the midst of your intense grief, you should feel proud to have been the companion of Spain’s leading poet! He died poor as Genius should! Max, have you no longer a word for your faithful dog? Max, my friend, though less in years, greater in …
DORIO DE GADEX:: Worth!
DON LATINO:: Idiot! You could at least have let me finish! Young Modernists, the Maestro is dead and yet you address one another as if you were equals in the Hispano-American Parnassus! I took a bet with this cold corpse as to which one of us would be the first to undertake the final journey. And as usual, he won! We made the same bet so many times. Do you remember, brother? You died of hunger, as in time I and all worthy Spaniards shall! They slammed every door in your face and you took revenge by starving to death! Well done! Let this shame fall on every bastard in the Academy! In Spain talent remains a crime!; DON LATINO leans over and kisses the dead man’s forehead. At the foot of the coffin, between the endless flicker of the candles, the small dog shakes his stumpy tail. MADAME COLLET raises her head painfully, and looks at the three puppets lined up against the wall.
MADAME COLLET:: For God’s sake, take him out into the hall!
DORIO DE GADEX:: We’ll have to get him some smelling salts. He can barely stand!
CLAUDINITA:: Just let him sleep it off! I detest him!
DON LATINO:: Claudinita! Spring flower!
CLAUDINITA:: If father hadn’t gone out yesterday, he’d still be alive!
DON LATINO:: Claudinita, this is an unjust accusation! Grief is driving you to distraction!
CLAUDINITA:: Bastard! Always interfering!

Copyright

The above sample taken from the translation Bohemian Lights (1997) by Maria Delgado is licensed under a Creative Commons License.

SCENE FIFTEEN

Edition

Valle-Inclán, Ramón María del. 1997. Three Plays: Divine Words, Bohemian Lights, Silver Face, trans. Maria Delgado. London, Methuen

pp. 178-80

Context:

Don Latino is in Tight Arse’s (Venancio’s) tavern along with a number of other drinkers, including Enriqueta the prostitute. He has come from Max’s funeral, and drunkenly laments the fact that the burial was poorly attended. He has a surprising amount of money on him, and the other drinkers gradually realise he has cashed in on Max’s winning lottery ticket.

Sample text

TIGHT ARSE’s tavern. Darkness broken by the flickering gas lamp. DON LATINO OF HISPALIS stands stammering in front of the counter, persistently offering to buy PAY PAY THE POSER a drink. He stumbles and falls, annoying everyone around him.
DON LATINO:: Drink up, my friend! You can’t imagine the sorrow that fills my heart! Drink up! I downed it all in one!
PAY PAY THE POSER:: That’s because you have no class.
DON LATINO:: Today we have buried Spain’s leading poet! Four friends turned up at the cemetery. That was it! Not one bastard turned up from the Learned Establishment! What do you think of that, Venancio?
TIGHT ARSE:: Whatever you say, Don Latí.
DON LATINO:: Genius shines with its own light! Isn’t that right, Poser?
PAY PAY THE POSER:: Absolutely, Don Latino.
DON LATINO:: I’ve taken upon myself the burden of publishing his writings! A reputable task! I am the literary executor! He has bequeathed us a social novel with the stature of Les Miserables. I am the executor! And thus the royalties from his entire works will pass on to the family. And I don’t care if I’m ruined while attempting to publish them! Such are the obligations of friendship! Like the nocturnal pilgrim, my immortal hope does not look to the earth for fulfillment. Gentlemen, not one representative from the Learned Establishment! At least there were four friends, four extraordinary personalities! The Home Secretary, Bradomín, Rubén and your truly. Isn’t that right, Poser?
PAY PAY THE POSER:: The entire Royal Family could have been there for all I care.
TIGHT ARSE:: Don’t you think you’re taking things a bit far by claiming that the Government was officially represented at Don Max’s funeral. If you spread that around you’re going to find yourself head high in shit!
DON LATINO:: I’m not lying! The Home Secretary was at the cemetery. We even said hello!
THE YOUNG BARMAN:: It must have been the Phantom!
DON LATINO:: Shut up, you silly fool! Didn’t President Maura call in on the family of Gallo the Matador to pay his respects?
PAY PAY THE POSER:: José Gómez, alias ‘Gallito’, was a star who died fighting majestically in the arena. He was the king of the bullring.
TIGHT ARSE:: What about Juan Belmonte alias ‘Terremoto’, the human earthquake?
PAY PAY THE POSER:: An intellectual!
DON LATINO:: Another round, boy! This is the saddest day of my life! I lost a friend who was like a brother to me, a Maestro! This is why I am drinking, Venancio.
TIGHT ARSE:: Your bill is rocketing, Don Latí. You’d better check to see if you’ve got enough money on you. Just in case!
DON LATINO:: I’ve got enough money to buy you and your entire tavern.; He pulls out a handful of notes from the inner pockets of his overcoat and throws them over the counter, under the devious glance of PAY PAY THE POSER and to the visible astonishment of VENANCIO. THE YOUNG BARMAN bends down to pick up a note which has fallen between the old man’s muddy legs. The young STREET WALKER, ENRIQUETA, hidden in a corner of the dive, removes the scarf from her forehead and sits up, her eyes fixed on the counter.
THE YOUNG BARMAN:: Has somebody left you their fortune, Don Latí?
DON LATINO:: Somebody who owed me a few pesetas finally paid up.
TIGHT ARSE:: You call that a few.
ENRIQUETA THE STREET WALKER:: There’s thousands!
DON LATINO:: Do I owe you anything!
ENRIQUETA THE STREET WALKER:: Of course you bloody well do! You cashed in on that lottery ticket I sold you.
DON LATINO:: That’s not true.
ENRIQUETA THE STREET WALKER:: Number 5775.
THE YOUNG BARMAN:: That’s the number Don Max had!
ENRIQUETA THE STREET WALKER:: In the end he didn’t want it and Don Latí took it. And the mean bastard hasn’t bothered to hand over my share of the takings.
DON LATINO:: I’d forgotten!
ENRIQUETA THE STREET WALKER:: You’ve got a terrible memory.

Copyright