Mr Price, or Tropical Madness and Metaphysics of a Two- Headed Calf

Stanislaw Ignacy Witkiewicz, Daniel Gerould

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2003
• Topic: Literature
• eBook ISBN:
  9781134477579
• Subtopic: Performing Arts
• Index: Literature

The Polish playwright and artist Stanislaw Ignacy Witkiewicz, known as Witkacy, is now recognized as Poland's leading theatrical innovator of the interwar years and one of the outstanding creative personalities of the European avant-garde. This volume contains two of Witkacy's "tropical" plays inspired by the playwright's trip to Ceylon and Australia in 1914 with his close friend, the anthropologist Bronislaw Malinowski.
Mr. Price, or Tropical Madness is a drama of heightened passion and greed among British colonists in Rangoon who seem to have stepped out of Joseph Conrad's tales of the South Seas.
Metaphysics of a Two headed Calf, set in New Guinea and Australia, pits savage European imperialists against a native tribal Australia and pits savage European imperialists against a native tribal chieftain whose fetish of a great golden frog offers greater insight into the mystery of existence than the Westerners' shallow rationalism.
Both plays puncture the white rulers' poses of superiority and parody their images of the tropical Other. Also included in the volume are Witkacy's Foreword to Metaphysics of a Two-Headed Calf in which the playwright defends his concept of theatre as an autonomous art with a scenic language of its own and an appendix containing a documentary itinerary of Witkacy's journey to Ceylon.

MR PRICE, OR TROPICAL MADNESS

A Small Drama in Three Acts (1920) written in collaboration with Eugenia Dunin-Borkowska.
Dedicated by Borkowska to Władysław Borkowski and by Witkiewicz to Leon Reynel

Stanisław Ignacy Witkiewicz

Translated by Daniel Gerould

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Neither my collaborator nor I was ever in Rangoon. I’m somewhat acquainted with other port cities in the tropics. Since the action was to take place in the tropics (it would indeed have been difficult to put that whole group in Zakopane or Rabka, or even in Warsaw), and it had always been my dream to visit Rangoon, we decided jointly to transfer the action to that city. The names of the streets are fantastic – but that doesn’t matter. I don’t think anyone will be offended. As for the disease, “tropical madness,” opinions are divided. Some consider it pure fiction, a sickness invented by colonial European sadists to justify the crimes they commit against colored people – or even against the representatives of the “superior” white race. Others believe in the reality of this form of insanity, putting it on a par with paranoia or dementia praecox. On the basis of personal experience we lean toward the latter view. “Tropical madness” is actually a serious nervous disorder occurring in the tropics, as the result of the terrific temperature (of which no Ukrainian heat wave can give the faintest idea) and also as the result of spicy foods, alcohol, and the constant sight of naked black bodies.

The other problems taken up in the play don’t seem to need any explanation.

S. I. W.
April 29, 1920

THE CHARACTERS

RICHARD GOLDERS: Forty years old. Head of the GOLDERS East India Rubber Company. Large, bull-like, handsome, dark-haired. Closely trimmed mustache. Hair slightly graying. His face characterized by devilish strength and intelligence. A searching gaze.

ELINOR GOLDERS: Twenty-nine years old. His wife. Daughter of Herbert Fierce, eleventh Duke of Brokenbridge. A slender and subtle blonde. Devilishly seductive.

STRANGER: A young man, thirty-two years old. Slender, elegant, lighthaired. Completely clean-shaven. Refined movements. Eyes with a deep and thoughtful look. Powerful jaw.

GEORGIANA FRAY: Called the Black Pelican. Twenty-four years old. Cocotte. Half Siamese, half English. Golden skin, slanting black eyes. Black hair. Siamese lasciviousness to the nth degree.

ALBERT BRITCHELLO: Formerly Wojciech Brzechajlo before he Anglicized his name – a true Pole, owner of a large trading house in Singapore. Bull-necked, florid face, large gray mustache. Thickset, medium height. Sixty-five years old.

BERTHA BRITCHELLO: Née Whitehead – matronly, thin ex-blonde, completely gray-haired, fifty-five years old. Dried-up looking.

LILY RADCLIFFE: Their red-haired freckled daughter. Twenty-six years old. Very pretty, but unfortunately common.

TOM RADCLIFFE: Dark-haired, broad-shouldered, clean-shaven, with an incredible jaw. Her husband. Thirty years old. Owner of a coffee firm in Rangoon.

JACK BRITCHELLO: son of ALBERT and BERTHA. Eighteen years old. Half gentleman, half sissy .

JIM: Chinese waiter in the cafe of the Malabar Hotel. In a yellow jacket, white trousers and shoes.

DAN: Malay, servant of Mr. and Mrs. GOLDERS. In a red turban and white dinner jacket.

ACT ONE

The action takes place in Rangoon. Night. Veranda of the Hotel Malabar. Red pillars, topped by richly ornamented Indian arches, frame the doorway from which stairs lead down to the street. To the right and left of the doorway, grayish yellow drapes as tall as a man hang between the pillars. Above, the starry sky can be seen. A small table to the right, another to the left. A larger table center. To the left the door to the billiard room; to the right a drape, which curtains off that part of the veranda. Upstage, through the doorway, we can see the street: small houses surrounded by palms, further out a quay and the lights of ships out at sea.

JIM stands by the left wall, dressed in a yellow jacket, white trousers and black shoes. He wears a pigtail. At the small table in the curtained area to the right ELINOR GOLDERS sits, dressed in a white outfit and tropical hat with a green band, sipping a cold drink through a straw. The small table to the left is empty. These small tables are further upstage than the large table center, at which the BRITCHELLO FAMILY sits, in the following order from right to left: TOM RADCLIFFE, his right profile to the audience; ALBERT BRITCHELLO, facing the audience; LILY, turned three-quarters to the audience showing her left profile somewhat; BERTHA BRITCHELLO, her left profile to the audience. JACK sits slightly further downstage, his left profile toward the audience. They are all dressed in white. Every minute, someone in the group slaps a mosquito on his forehead, neck, cheeks, or somewhere else, or in the air in front of his nose, clapping it in the palms of his hands – the way we kill moths. They drink iced drinks – cocktails and lemon squash.

BRITCHELLO: How could you do something like that, Tom?

TOM: (Aghast) But Father …

BRITCHELLO: (Pounding his fist on the table) No, no and no! (To the Chinese waiter.) Jim! Two rainbows! (JIM goes out.) I’m warning you, Tom, you’re going to end up on the gallows. I’ve never done dirty business. In the last shipment of coffee there were three cases of opium …

TOM: (Interrupts him, trying to warn him and calm him down) Quiet, Father. There’s a lady sitting over there.

BRITCHELLO: (Looks around somewhat uneasily, then waves his hand contemptuously) Oh, some sleepwalker from another world. (Again angrily) Three cases of opium! And to ship it to my agents! That’s outrageous! I intercepted your letter to Hold. (TOM looks confused.) I can’t fire him now, I need him. I have to look at that ugly mug for another month. But he’ll be booted out, don’t worry. I didn’t want to tell you this until after the fact. But you drove me to it.

JIM brings two rainbows. They drink.

TOM: (Disconcerted, wants to avoid the issue) All right, Father. Let’s have a drink and make up. One way or another. We’ll end up doing business.

BRITCHELLO: Another episode like that, and Lily will come back home with us. I’ve had enough of your shenanigans.

They clink glasses and drink.

LILY: Please don’t get me mixed up in your business. We’re the flowers that grow in your crates, shipments, cargoes, and embargoes. I don’t understand anything about it, but it’s the flower bed I grow in. And I’m not going to wither away yet. Tom! Do whatever Papa tells you. That’s my advice.

BRITCHELLO: (To LILY, impatiently) Fine, fine. Tell him all that at night when you’re alone. And above all, don’t let your fantasies run away with you. (To TOM) I’ve got to be at Golders’ tomorrow. I don’t know him personally yet, but we’re forming a colossal gum and cocoa trust. If you’ll behave yourself, Tom, I’ll take you on as chief secretary. Well – that’s enough business for now. Let’s take a little break.

Enter from the street the STRANGER dressed in a white tropical costume, a pith helmet on his head. EVERYONE looks around. BRITCHELLO stops talking and sips his liqueur.

JACK: Business in the tropics has a special kind of charm. You’re all so keen on Europe. But I’m telling you, those years there were a deadly bore. Here the most insignificant shopkeeper is something fantastically strange, far stranger than a millionaire in Europe. To say nothing of such creatures as papa or you, Tom.

BERTHA: Jack! Behave decently. How can you talk like that about your father?

JACK: (Slapping a mosquito on his right cheek – it’s important to remember that they are all constantly slapping mosquitoes) I don’t think it’s insulting. Here in the tropics everyone’s like some kind of strange creature. They’re beautiful, like tigers in the jungle. (Looking at ELINOR) That woman’s talking to herself. Lily, don’t stare at her like that.

They all turn and look in ELINOR’s direction.

ELINOR: (Aloud, to herself) What strange eyes that man has. They remind me of something, but I can’t remember what.

BERTHA: (Loudly; they all speak loudly all the time) There are quite a few deranged people here. Everything seems different in this country. I have the feeling that life’s floating backward. That woman looks like some sort of society person, but I wouldn’t trust her.

JACK: She seems to be a foreigner from an unknown country.

ELINOR: The sun here is like a ball of blood that strikes people down instead of giving them life, and the darkness of night is white-hot like Satan’s bowels. Oh! My poor head. (She massages her temples.)

LILY: Unlike anyone I’ve ever seen in my life. I can’t take my eyes off her. I’ve been infected by your perverse fantasies, Jack.

JACK: Unfortunately the only thing you’re learning how to do is work yourself up into a nervous state.

LILY: I think that’s what we’re all doing.

BRITCHELLO: You’re all exaggerating. If you worked the way I did …

JACK: (Looking at the STRANGER) That man over there has also noticed our lady stranger. They’ve noticed each other. They’re looking at each other.

LILY: Look what’s happening to him.

STRANGER: (He shows anxiety in his movements and suddenly, as if not knowing what to do with himself, calls to JIM, in an unnaturally serious tone) Bring me some water! Plain water with ice! Understand? (He halfrises, then sits down again. At the sound of his voice, ELINOR covers her face with her hands and keeps them there. The STRANGER, making an effort to control himself, sits stiffly with clenched teeth and looks determinedly straight ahead. Enter JIM with a glass of water on a tray. He comes up to the STRANGER, who glances at him, then gets up, pushes him away and with a firm step goes over to ELINOR. The glass falls to the floor; JIM picks up the pieces. With the exception of BRITCHELLO, the others all watch in silence. The STRANGER stops in front of ELINOR, as if not knowing what to do next.) Madam, this is not to be believed, but I couldn’t behave otherwise. I am Sydney …

ELINOR: (Who has from the beginning been staring at him in amazement, makes a gesture with her hands to repel him) Don’t say anything! I don’t want to know anything. Please go away!

STRANGER: No, it can’t be that you’d send me away without saying a single word. You understand, I’m sure, that a person can bring himself to do something like this only once in a lifetime …

ELINOR: (Slowly weakens. Her hands fall. She speaks with difficulty, dragging out the words, which seem to stick in her throat) You frightened me. I wish it hadn’t happened. You acted like a person in a trance. There are people all around us. I myself …

STRANGER: That doesn’t matter. It was you who brought me here. Look into my eyes.

ELINOR involuntarily raises her eyes and looks with terror into the STRANGER’s face. During the STRANGER’s last speech, BRITCHELLO turns and looks threateningly at him. Seeing ELINOR’s terror-stricken look, he gets up and, clenching his fists, approaches the STRANGER; JACK bursts into spasmodic laughter.

BRITCHELLO: (To the STRANGER) How dare you accost women you don’t even know? Can’t you see this lady doesn’t feel well as it is? Get out of here this minute!

The STRANGER looks at him, stunned.

ELINOR: (Suddenly regaining her psychic composure) Gentlemen! Don’t get so excited. My husband will be here any minute.

BRITCHELLO: What do I care about your husband? I’d be willing to swear you only think you’ve got a husband. I’m an old man and I won’t let any young whippersnapper …

BERTHA: (Sharply) Albert! Oh, those Polish aristocratic manners!

LILY: (At the same time) Papa!

At the sound of their voices BRITCHELLO stops short. He makes a conciliatory gesture to his family and immediately starts talking again.

TOM: (To the women) Don’t worry. Papa has to work off some of his Polish love of fantasy.

BRITCHELLO: (To the STRANGER, thrusting his fist under his nose) I’ll show you, you anemic milksop!

JACK laughs, pounding his...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Introduction to the Series
• Acknowledgements
• Introduction: Tropical Madness – Witkacy’s Journey to the East
• Mr Price, or Tropical Madness
• Witkiewicz’s Foreword to Metaphysics of a Two-Headed Calf (1921)
• Metaphysics of a Two-headed Calf
• Appendix