On this Christmas day, I give you one more of the recently discovered playlets of Barnaby McScrivener. (If you are new to this blog, you may learn more about Mr. McScrivener and read the first of his Christmas carol adaptations here). Appended to the original script was a letter from one of Berlin’s leading theatrical producers, Mannheim Von Sturmroller, who wrote: “I regret that while your playlet is immensely entertaining, it cannot possibly be produced in its present form. Have you considered an adaptation of Stille Nacht! Heil'ge Nacht!? I am confident it would be quite the success in Bohemia next season.”
JINGLING ON THE HEATH
Personae Dramatis:
Percival P. Peckingwood III: A fancy man of means, dressed in the latest London fashion.
Miss Fanny Eloise Toppenham-Bacon Bright: A handsome young lady of middling birth.
Others as available.
The scene opens in the ballroom of a fine manor house, aglow with festive candles and a finely decorated holiday tree (at least 20 feet high). Two score of actors of diverse ages and amplitude are seen dancing and gamboling merrily, while a chamber orchestra plays a jaunty tune of the day. Another lively group plays a game of “Pope in the Pulpit,” while a gaggle of young children cavorts through a rousing round of “That’s My Frigate!” A particolored Greyhound (an Irish Wolfhound or Moldavian Lurcher are acceptable substitutes) adorned with deer antlers crosses the stage, to the amusement of the party-goers. In the corner of the ballroom, a dwarf from the Isle of Borneo demonstrates the mystic art of Tam-Tam. The aroma of figgy pudding wafts over the audience.
The scene having been set, the entire set rotates slowly on an immense turntable until we find ourselves, miraculously, on the exterior of the country estate. The party continues, now seen only in glimpses behind fogged windows. We hear muted sounds of merriment. Snow begins to fall, gradually becoming heavier as the action proceeds throughout the play (ultimately reaching a depth of no less than two hands). A dozen carolers enter, singing joyously. The front door is opened by a footman wearing a Welsh wig who invites the carolers to join the party. They enter, accompanied by great cheers and huzzahs. After the carolers have entered, our two protagonists emerge, dressed in Victorian finery, bundled against the bitter cold. The play begins.
Percival:
[pointing off stage]
It’s just over there, waiting for us. Let us not tarry. If you are quite ready, milady, we shall climb aboard and begin the merriment.
Fanny:
[joyously clapping her hands]
Oh, what delightful fun! I’ve never done this before.
Percival:
It certainly will be jolly. Methinks you’ll be laughing all the way.
Fanny:
[Suddenly concerned]
Oh my! Where in heaven is the other horse?
Percival:
[Confused]
Whatsoever do you mean?
Fanny:
I see only one horse. Don’t sleighs usually require two horses?
Percival:
No. I don’t believe so. I’ve always used just one.
Fanny:
[Gesturing broadly in the direction of unseen fields]
Pray tell, what about the fields?
Percival:
Yes, the fields. Now, what about them?
Fanny:
We will be traipsing across fields, is that not so?
Percival:
[A little annoyed]
Well, of course there will be fields to cross. That’s really the entire point.
Fanny:
But will we not need two horses to pull us across these fields? What I mean is, to pull us at a reasonable pace. A dashing pace? It seems to me that one horse will be fine for favorable conditions, but crossing fields?
Percival:
Ho, ho! Now I understand! I am such a silly ass. I see that you wish to move at a brisk pace. Yes, of course. A dashing pace it shall be!
Fanny:
Dear sir, there is no need for you to apologize. It is I who was being obtuse!
Percival:
You are far too gracious. Let me explain: You see, this sleigh is especially designed for just one horse.
Fanny:
Yes, I do see that now.
Percival:
You will also note that this horse is both lean and lank. These are adequate attributes for a speedy jaunt through the snow.
Fanny:
[looks closer]
Oh my! What about its tail?
Percival:
Tail?
Fanny:
He doesn’t seem to have one.
Percival:
Not a long one, no.
Fanny:
That seems dreadfully odd.
Percival:
It’s a question of fashion, my dear. His tail has been bobbed, you see. Moreover, I’ve bestowed bells upon it. Such is the rage in London. I find the style raises my spirits quite high. I expect you will find the same.
Fanny:
I am ever so sorry to doubt you, sweet Percival. It’s just…
Percival:
Yes, dear?
Fanny:
It’s just … oh dear … I fear the poor beast will …
Percival:
Will what?
Fanny:
Well, that misfortune will be his lot. What with the bobbed tail and the silly bells.
Percival;
My dear Miss Bright, what possible harm could befall us?
Fanny:
My greatest fear is that we will become entrapped in a bank of snow. I shudder to imagine an even more dismal outcome!
Percival:
And what might that be?
Fanny:
That our conveyance will be upsot, and we shall be tos’t upon the icy drifts. Moreover, that I shall never wed a proper gentleman.
Percival:
Oh, you supercilious little scamp! T’is not the season for such imagined concerns. Let’s be away. The faster we journey, the quicker we will again be snug and cozy near the welcoming hearth. I have been led to understand that we will be partaking in a wee bit of wassailing upon our return.
Fanny:
[Sighing, resigned]
Away then.
Across the fields.
I shall endeavor to laugh the entire way.
Percival:
That’s my girl.
END OF PLAY
Posts
