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Daisy Miller
Henry James, Dawn Keeler
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eBook - ePub
Daisy Miller
Henry James, Dawn Keeler
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About This Book
Henry James's classic story of unrequited love.
Lake Geneva, 1878: a young American expatriate, Frederick Winterbourne, meets Daisy Miller, a strikingly pretty young American from Schenectady. Though immediately infatuated with each other, they are socially worlds apart. Winterbourne fails to recognise that Daisy is that alarming new phenomenon, 'the American Girl', free to do as she pleases. Daisy Miller has its intensely poignant denouement in Rome, where Daisy's conduct provokes the wrath of the city's American colony, and leads Winterbourne to tragically misjudge her.
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Characters
DAISY MILLER
Young American
FREDERICK WINTERBOURNE
Young American living in Europe
MRS MILLER
Daisyās mother
MRS COSTELLO
Winterbourneās aunt
MRS WALKER
American widow
GIOVANELLI
Italian lawyer
EUGENIO
Swiss courier
WAITER
SERVANT
The play takes place in 1878ā9, in Vevey, a resort
on Lake Geneva, Switzerland, and Rome, Italy.
on Lake Geneva, Switzerland, and Rome, Italy.
Daisy Miller was first performed at the Malvern Festival Theatre on 30 August 2005, with the following cast:
FREDERICK WINTERBOURNE, Richard Grieve
DAISY MILLER, Scarlett Johnson
MRS COSTELLO, Jean Boht
MRS MILLER, Sandra Dickinson
MRS WALKER, Shirley Anne Field
EUGENIO/GIOVANELLI, Craig Giovanelli
Producer, Ian Fricker
Director, Christopher Morahan
Designer, Christopher Woods
Lighting Designer, Gerry Jenkinson
Music, Ilona Sekacz
ACT ONE
FREDERICK WINTERBOURNE is sitting, smoking, at a table. He is engrossed in writing. The sound of a pen scratching on paper. A cup of coffee is on the table. The stage is dark apart from a light on WINTERBOURNE.
WINTERBOURNE: (Voice over.) July the sixteenth, 1879, the HĆ“tel des Trois Couronnes, Vevey. Here I am back in Switzerland, at the little resort of Vevey, just two months after that whole remarkable and mystifying episode came to an end. It was in this very garden, almost a year ago, that I first met Daisy Miller: real name Annie, Annie P Miller from Schenectady, in the State of New Yorkā¦the incomparable Daisy! If I wrote here all that I could write about what happened in the days, weeks and months after that meeting, I should speedily fill this notebook, bought in Rome last winter, but hitherto unopened. Itās so long since Iāve kept any notes, written down my current reflections, taken a sheet of paper, as it were, into my confidence. (WINTERBOURNE starts to speak in sync with his voice and gradually takes over.) Perhaps it is too late now fully to recapture that experience, but I want to catch and keep its essence, distil its meaning. Whether I succeed, or not, Iām glad Iāve come back here, where it all started ā it is something that I have had to do. (WINTERBOURNE has put down his pen and addresses the audience.) Vevey in June is always the same; American travellers are so numerous at this time that it takes on some of the qualities of an American watering-place. Thereās a flitting to and fro of stylish young girls, a rustling of muslin flounces. One of those young girls last June, surely the most striking of all, was Miss Daisy Miller.
Gradually, a light comes up on DAISY. She is standing as though in a painting. Quite still. The arbour acts as a frame for the painting.
WINTERBOURNE continues.
What am I supposed to do? Ignore her? I watch her, fascinated. Everything about her, her eyes, her nose, her ears, her teeth, her complexion, all are perfection. I immediately want to talk to her. But I hesitate. In Geneva, the dark little capital of Calvinism, where Iāve mainly lived since a boy, a young man isnāt at liberty to speak to a young unmarried girl, except under quite exceptional circumstances! Quel absurditĆ©! But here, in pleasure-loving Vevey, with so many American tourists milling around, it seems the most natural thing in the world.
Lights up. Vevey, on Lake Geneva, Switzerland, June 1878. The garden of the HĆ“tel des Trois Couronnes.
Sound of a brass band playing a Strauss waltz floats across the lake.
DAISY MILLER steps out of the picture. She goes and stands in front of WINTERBOURNE. She carries a parasol and has a small pair of binoculars on a ribbon round her neck.
That music is very jolly, isnāt it?
DAISY: It makes one want to dance.
She moves a little in time to the music.
WINTERBOURNE: Presumably thatās what itās meant to do. Do you know the music?
DAISY: No.
WINTERBOURNE: Itās a waltz.
DAISY: I know itās a waltz, I thought you meant that particular waltz. Everyoneās waltzing in New York these days. (She leans over the table.) What are you writing?
WINTERBOURNE: A set of articles for a New York newspaper, about places in Europe Iāve enjoyed visiting. Iām hoping they will be published as a travel book.
DAISY: A guidebook!
WINTERBOURNE: Well, yes, it will contain some useful information about places, but it wonāt exactly be a Baedeker!
DAISY: A Baedeker? Whatās that?
WINTERBOURNE: Itās the guidebook ā a bible for the discriminating traveller!
DAISY: Dear me!
WINTERBOURNE: (After a silence.) Isnāt this a simply tremendous view? See that mountain over there?
DAISY: Itās so big, I couldnāt miss it, I guess! But I donāt know what itās called. Our Swiss courier, Eugenio, has been too busy chasing after my brother Randolph to tell us much about the area.
WINTERBOURNE: Oh, your brother and I have already made acquaintance. He told me his name. We had quite a conversation. Heās a most spirited little boy.
DAISY: Randolph spirited? Iāll say! And so naughty. He was jumping round on a pole just now, pretending it was a horse. Not only that, he was poking it into everything he could find. I thought he was going to poke my eyes out.
WINTERBOURNE: That would have been a pity. You have, if I may say so, rather remarkable eyes.
DAISY looks at him quizzically.
By the way, the poleās an alpenstock.
DAISY: I know, itās just easier to call it a pole.
WINTERBOURNE: Randolph told me heās going to climb the Alps with itā¦ Are you going to Italy?
DAISY: Yes, sir. Iām going to Rome for the winter ā with my mother and Randolph ā and of course Eugenio.
WINTERBOURNE: Are you thinking of going over the Simplon?
DAISY: Going over the what?
WINTERBOURNE: The Simplon.
DAISY: I donāt know. I suppose itās some mountain.
WINTERBOURNE: Yes, it is. Some mountain! The scenery is quite spectacular. From Vevey, crossing the Simplon Pass is the best way of going down into Italy.
DAISY: (Looking through her binoculars.) Whatās that mountain over there?
WINTERBOURNE: Itās the Dent du Midi. Dent is French for ātoothā; du Midi means āof the Southā.
DAISY: āTooth of the Southā! I suppose it does look like a tooth, an upside down one. Do you live up in the mountains?
WINTERBOURNE: (Laughing.) Good gracious, Iām not a goatherd! No, I live in Geneva, just across the lake.
DAISY: Have you lived there very long?
WINTERBOURNE: Yes, indeed. Iāve travelled a good deal too. Iām very fond of travelling, and happily, as a writer for an American newspaper, Iāve been able to do it.
DAISY: I suppose you know ever so many foreign languages?
WINTERBOURNE: Yes, quite a few.
DAISY: Is it hard to learn to speak them?
WINTERBOURNE: Yes, to speak them well it is. Have you picked up any foreign words on your tour?
DAISY: Just the odd one. But I donāt want to speak foreign languages; I just want to listen to them. They say the way they speak in the French theatre is so beautiful.
WINTERBOURNE: Absolutely true.
DAISY: Have you been to the French theatre very often?
WINTERBOURNE: The first time I was in Paris I went every night.
DAISY: Goodness, every night! And when we were in Paris I didnāt go once.
WINTERBOURNE: Why not?
DAISY: Randolph, of course. He doesnāt want to go anywhere. Heād like to be back at home with Father. (Pause.) Do you have a favourite country in Europe?
WINTERBOURNE: Yes. Thereās one I love beyond any other.
DAISY: Which is that?
WINTERBOURNE: Italy. Itās a beautiful place.
DAISY: Well, Iāll get a chance to see it, wonāt I? (Pointing with her parasol.) Have you been to that old castle?
WINTERBOURNE: The ChĆ¢teau de Chillon. More than once.
DAISY: We havenāt been there. I want to go there, dreadfully. I mean to go there. I wouldnāt go away from here without seeing that old castle.
WINTERBOURNE: Itās a very pretty excursion, and very easy to make. You can go in a carriage, you know, or by the little steamer.
DAI...