brought to you by The Val Lewton Screenplay Collection
"BEDLAM"
AN RKO RADIO PICTURE
Final Script
June 30, 1945
CHAMBER OF HORROR
A TALE OF BEDLAM
BEHIND the MAIN and CREDIT TITLES appear a series of Hogarth
paintings; one painting to each card. The painting which
shows the "Industrious Apprentice" in church will be used to
frame the MAIN TITLE. More elaborate and multicharactered
paintings will be used until the final painting is "Bedlam."
It is over this last painting that the narrative title
appears.
LONDON - 1761
The people of the Eighteenth Century
called their Period "The Age of Reason"
As this TITLE FADES, the MUSIC of the overture FADES WITH it
and there can be heard the SOUND of shrieks, wild laughter
and hysterical babbling.
EXT. ST. MARY'S OF BETHLEHEM HOSPITAL - NIGHT - SPECIAL
EFFECTS
LOW CAMERA SETUP to show the face of the building between the
two statues of "Madness" and "Melancholia" above the gates.
The CAMERA TILTS to show the upper stories. As it reaches the
cornice of the building, a man in dark small-clothes and a
white shirt, can be seen clinging to the gutter four stories
above the street. He has the fingers of one hand hooked over
the gutter and is wildly scrambling to get a grip with the
other hand.
CLOSE SHOT - the man, dangling from the roof, desperately
struggling.
EXT. THE ROOF GUTTER - ST. MARY'S OF BETHLEHEM - NIGHT
A man with a lighted lantern in his hand, wearing great broad
toed shoes, comes clumping along the gutter. He holds up the
lantern to look for a moment at the struggling man.
ANOTHER ANGLE - the CAMERA SHOOTING down OVER the
shoulders of the man with the lantern. For a brief moment,
the lantern light illuminates the white, desperate face of
the clinging man. Then the man with the lantern grinds the
other man's hand under his heavy heel. The man in the white
shirt falls, screaming.
EXT. ST. MARY'S OF BETHLEHEM HOSPITAL - NIGHT
The falling figure, as the man drops with a long, sustained
shriek of desperation. The body crumples sickeningly on the
sidewalk. People run in from either side. The door opens and
a warder clatters down the steps.
The CAMERA TILTS again and goes up past the doorway to focus
on the lintel between the statues so that the inscription
thereon can be read.
ST. MARY'S OF BETHLEHEM HOSPITAL
Asylum For The Insane
EXT. LONDON STREET - NIGHT
LONG SHOT. A closed carriage comes careening down the street,
its lamps glowing, and the coachman and footman sitting
austerely on the box.
INT. LORD MORTIMER'S CARRIAGE - NIGHT - PROCESS
Lord Mortimer and Nell Bowen. Lord Mortimer is a blandly
stout man, puffy as a Yorkshire pudding, with a belly that
would do honor to Silenus. He is of merry, but stupid,
countenance and even in an age of rococo ostentation, his
costume is outstandingly luxuriant. Actually, he is not a bad
sort; only a little too rich and too foolish for his
country's good.
Like Lord Mortimer, his companion, Nell Bowen, is a product
of her age; a beautiful girl, bold as a frigate, merry as a
flag and with no more thought for right and wrong, or the
problems of the future, than the parrot on her wrist. She
would rather say a bright word than do a good deed. At the
moment, she is amusing herself with her parrot. Lord
Mortimer, between sniffs of snuff and the accompanying
explosive sneeze, is rolling with laughter, his fat belly
shaking. He stops long enough for Nell to coax her parrot to
display its prowess.
NELL
(to the parrot)
Come, Poll, do you know my friend,
Lord Mortimer?
(prompting) )
Lord Mortimer Lord Mortimer
The parrot finally deigns to let out a raucous yell.
PARROT
Lord Mortimer is like a pig. His
brain's small and his belly big.
Lord Mortimer is seized with paroxysms of laughter. He hugs
Nell with familiarity in the abandon of his mirth.
EXT. LONDON STREET - NIGHT
MED. LONG SHOT - the coach. A few people running across the
street are in danger of being run down. The coachman slows
his team. A huckster, pushing his barrow before him,
hastening to see the cause of the excitement, brings the
carriage of Lord Mortimer to a complete halt.
EXT. THE COACH - NIGHT
MED. SHOT. Lord Mortimer is leaning forward to see what is
going on. The footman starts to climb down.
INT. THE COACH - NIGHT
SHOOTING OUT PAST Nell Bowen and Lord Mortimer. The footman's
head appears at the window.
MILORD
What's this hub-bub?
FOOTMAN
One of the lunatics from the
asylum, I expect, Milord.
NELL
(excitedly)
A prank? A jest?
MILORD
Go and see, John.
The footman turns and leaves and can be seen pushing his way
through the crowd.
NELL
(looking out and up)
Bedlam --? It doesn't look so merry
a place, Milord. . .
MILORD
Never been there?
Nell, still looking, shakes her head.
MILORD
You'll have to pay Master Sims
tupence to see the loonies in their
cages maybe they can teach you
some new tricks, Nell.
NELL
I've no need of their wit to
entertain you, Milord.
Lord Mortimer tries to get the kernel of the thought between
his mental teeth. Before he can get it, John, the footman,
comes back through the crowd.
JOHN
They say, sir, that one of the poor
devils in there fell from the roof,
trying to escape.
MILORD
(without any feeling)
Very regrettable well, drive on.
JOHN
(a little excitedly)
Your Lordship it seems to me the
man was known to you.
MILORD
Eh?
JOHN
I thought I saw him in your company
not a week gone by.
MILORD
Eh really?
He shifts himself ponderously forward on the cushioned seat.
MILORD
Well, let's have a look.
John holds the door open for him and he starts to get out.
CLOSE SHOT - the step of the carriage as Lord Mortimer's
satin-slippered foot is placed upon it. The step sags down
and the carriage groans with his weight.
MED. LONG SHOT - the crowd, SHOOTING PAST the rear wheels of
the coach. Lord Mortimer, proceeded by the footman, makes his
way through the crowd.
ANOTHER ANGLE. On the pavement, in a disjointed fashion, the
body of the man in the white shirt lies sprawling. Lord
Mortimer bends over him.
JOHN
(gesturing)
You with the light
The link boy advances his torch.
LOW CAMERA SETUP. The torch light illuminates a close view
of Lord Mortimer's face. '
MILORD
(quietly and without change of
expression)
It is it is young Master Colby.
MED. FULL SHOT. Lord Mortimer turns to a man in a leather
apron whose official capacity as a guard is demonstrated by
the keys hung at his hip.
WARDER
He fell trying to escape. Some of
our boobies haven't sense enough to
keep safe behind their bars.
MILORD
Where is Sims?
The man shrugs.
MILORD
Fetch him.
WARDER
He is dining out, Milord.
MILORD
(angrily)
Dining out with Colby's blood on
his hands! Do you know me?
WARDER
(knuckling his forehead)
Yes, Milord,
MILORD
Then tell Master Sims to wait upon
me in the morning. I have some few
words I wish to say to him.
The warder bobs his forelock in deferential agreement. Milord
turns away, striding through the crowd to his carriage. .
FADE OUT
FADE IN
INT. ANTE-CHAMBER OF LORD MORTIMER'S HOME - DAY
The sun shines warmly into this little bright-bandbox of a
room to illuminate the brooding figure of a man in a black
coat. He sits with his chin upon the rounded head of his cane
and the seamed wickedness of his heavy face, the thick woolen
stuff of his clothes and even the stiff leather of his shoes,
all make a sad contrast to the shining satin, polished wood
and painted wall paper of this pretty apartment.
This is Master Sims, Apothecary General of the Hospital,
St. Mary's of Bethlehem, pamphleteer to the Tory party,
a poetaster and a wit; a type de siecle cut from the
same sharp cloth as Boswell, Johnson and Voltaire; men
of genius who were at the same time scoundrels and toadies.
From the next room comes the shout of Nell's parrot and
the roaring laughter of Lord Mortimer. As Sims sits waiting,
a small procession of servants pass bearing trays of covered
dishes from which small clouds of steam escape. The last is
an elaborately dressed little black-a-moor bearing a small
silver mirror and a patch box. Sims interposes his cane
before the colored boy, bringing him to a halt.
SIMS
Will you remind Lord Mortimer that
I am waiting.
The little black-a-moor gives him one look and passes on
disdainfully.
CLOSE SHOT - Master Sims relaxes again into a waiting
posture. From Lord Mortimer's room comes another shout of
laughter. He looks at the doorway with hatred, then quickly
looks about the room, straightening his face as if afraid
that even this momentary flash of true feeling might have be
on seen.
INT. LORD MORTIMER'S BED CHAMBER - DAY
Lord Mortimer is still in bed surrounded by billowing
cushions, so that the bed and his body are one great mass of
globular curves. Nell Bowen, in a velvet riding habit, her
train over her arm a crop in her hand
and a cocky tricorn on her head, lounges at the foot of the
bed. Beside her on a stand sits her parrot. The servants are
busily setting out Lord Mortimer's breakfast table. The
colored page has presented him with the mirror and is holding
before him. Lord Mortimer selects a patch and looking in the
mirror finds a place for it on his cheek. He pats It into
place, then turns the mirror so that the little, colored boy
can see it.
MILORD
Well, Pompey, are you a pretty boy
this morning?
Pompey looks into the mirror and makes a horrible grimace,
contorting his face into what he conceives to be the very
pink of ugliness.
EXTREMELY CLOSE SHOT - of the mirror with Pompey's grimace
reflected therein.
MED. FULL SHOT - the group.
NELL
What are you trying to do, Pompey?
POMPEY
(looking up)
Milord, I want to look like the
visitor in the hallway.
MILORD
(almost roaring as he sits
up in bed)
Sims! I'd forgotten Sims!
(to servants)
You there clear out. I want room
for anger.
The servants hurriedly finish putting the last dishes on the
breakfast table and, bowing, start to take their departure
from the room.
NELL
(calling after them gaily)
Send in the good Sims first
course for Milord's rage, to be
eaten with a sauce of Lightning,
and to the tune of thunder - Send
him in send him in
INT. ANTE-CHAMBER - DAY
The servants come in from the inner room. One of them
starts over toward Sims who lifts his chin expectantly from
his cane. Before the servant can speak there is a bellow
from the other room.
MILORD'S VOICE
(shouting)
Sims!
With a smirk the servant gestures toward the door. Sims,
rising slowly, passes into the other room. As he goes
through the doorway another bellow can be heard.
MILORD'S VOICE
Sims!
The door closes behind him. With one-accord the servants
cluster about the door, one gluing his eye to the, keyhole,
another his ear to the panel. There is a confused hub-bub of
angry SOUNDS. They grin maliciously. Suddenly, the door
opens and the servants straighten up and try to look as if
they had been engaged upon lawful errands, then relax as
Pompey comes through the door. He looks them over coolly,
shuts the door and then takes the key position at the
keyhole.
INT. LORD MORTIMER'S BED CHAMBER - DAY
Master Sims is making an elegant "leg" before his Lordship.
Lord Mortimer is in full spate.
MILORD
-- that you hated him I knew, that
you envied him was known to all,
but that you would dare -- dare to
leave that murderous window open --
to murder him from spite and envy -
SIMS
Murder, Milord? There was no
murder. Jackson was my guest.
He decided to leave the window
before I could open the door for
him and then -- that monstrous
accident.
NELL
Accident? Master Sims is writing a
new dictionary.
Both men look at her, completely puzzled.
NELL
Are accidents contrived, plotted,
executed?
Sims looks at her for a moment, appraising and judging his
antagonist, then he smirks.
SIMS
Exactly, Mistress Bowen. This
was a misadventure contrived by
the victim and executed by
nature's law that those who lose
their grip on gutters must fall.
MILORD
You stick to that story, Master
Sims?
SIMS
I could never invent one half so
droll. The characters of the tale;
two poets Colby and myself. But I
am not only a poet, but also, by
your Lordship's favor, the
Apothecary General of St. Mary's of
Bethlehem Hospital. My friend comes
to discuss poetry. I am absent. My
guards mistake my friend for a mad
man. He attempts to escape from
them and is killed -- like a
romance, Milord.
MILORD
It's a romance that cost me twenty
guineas and a night of laughter.
SIMS
How so, Milord?
NELL
(breaking in)
Lord Mortimer was foolish enough to
pay in advance for poetry promised
in the future. Jackson was to write
a masque for the fete Lord Mortimer
is giving.
SIMS
(almost cringing in his servility)
If I could offer my humble talents
- even at the hospital I deal in
wit and laughter, Madame. Are there
any who have come to Bedlam and say
the entertainment is not worth the
tupence they paid?
NELL
You don't entertain me, Master
Sims.
SIMS
(grinning)
That is because you have a tender
heart. Most people laugh at my
ugliness.
NELL
(coldly)
It offends me, sir.
SIMS
(with a gracious gesture)
To move a lady so beautiful in any
way --
MILORD
(laughing)
He's gallant, too.
SIMS
I am as you wish, Milord, and I
shall make your fete a frolic you
will remember.'
MILORD
How?
SIMS
Sometimes the success of the play
belongs to the players. What if the
masque were performed by my company
of wits, the Bedlamites?
MILORD
Have your loonies perform?
He begins to laugh at the thought.
MILORD
The opposition --- not John Wilkes
nor his whole Whig Party -- could
think of anything as clever as
that, eh, Nell?
NELL
You didn't think of it either.
MILORD
Well, it's one and the same thing
He waves his hand in Sims' general direction.
MILORD
My friend, here, thought of it.
SIMS
Let us say that you inspired the
thought, Milord.
MILORD
(immensely pleased)
You hear that Nell? I inspired him.
Nell looks from Lord Mortimer to Sims and back again. She
says nothing.
SIMS
(trying to draw her into
this community of good
feeling)
Let us say that you both inspired
me Milord and the beloved of
Milord.
Nell flashes him a quick, hard look.
NELL
I think you misunderstand, Master
Sims. I am Milord's protege. I
entertain him and
he has no more freedom with me than
any other man.
There is a short silence. Both men are embarrassed.
SIMS
I£, Milord, will but give me the
day and hour of the fete, I'll
prepare a masque of madness to set
you howling.
MILORD
A week from today at the Vauxhall.
The company assembles at eight.
SIMS
Thank you.
(to Milord)
With your leave --
He indicates the door. Milord waves a fat but graceful hand.
With another bow, Sims backs toward the door. Milord reaches
for the cup of chocolate on the stand and begins to drink
from a tiny china cup; a cup that looks like a thimble in his
pudgy hand. He begins to laugh. Nell looks at him
inquiringly.
MILORD
A merry notion --
NELL
(sarcastically)
The Lord Mayor will roll in the
soup with laughter.
MILORD
A capital fellow this Sims -- a
capital fellow.
NELL
If you ask me, Milord, he's a
stench in the nostrils, a sewer
of ugliness and a gutter brimming
with slop.
MILORD
But witty.
NELL
(with a smile)
So he tells us.
MILORD
Even if his wit is wanting his
Bedlamites will set my guests
roaring. Everyone who goes to
Bedlam expires with laughter.
Why don't you go and see them,
Nell? You'll see how funny they
are.
NELL
Perhaps I will.
EXT. ST. MARY'S OF BETHLEHEM HOSPITAL - DAY
A group of three Cockney girls carrying baskets go past,
directing their shouts of "Lavender, sweet lavender" toward
the houses across the street from the asylum. A cart
with a canvas tilt passes. In it are a bevy of young women,
fresh from the country. They gawk at the grey walls of
Bedlam, pointing their fingers and chattering among
themselves.
(See Hogarth's "Harlot's Progress, Plate #1") A dandy on
the sidewalk looks at the girls in the slowly moving cart
through his quizzing glass. A scrub woman is scrubbing the
steps to the hospital entrance.
Walking heavily, letting his weighty cane aid him, Master
Sims comes down the street. At the entrance steps he
pauses.
MED. CLOSE SHOT - the charwoman looks up. Towering above
her is the lord of this mad-domain. Hurriedly she begins
to wipe dry the step she had been scrubbing. Sims stands
quietly until she has finished, then, without a word or a
nod, passes on up -the stairs. Almost instantly a warder
opens it and respectfully steps aside to let Sims enter,
Sims passes him without a salutation or without even noticing
the man's hand deferentially at his forelock.
DISSOLVE OUT
DISSOLVE IN
INT. SIMS' OFFICE - DAY
This is a cluttered apartment. Books, manuscripts, bottles,
pipes, canes and other oddments and oddments are scattered
about in a disorderly fashion. In a corner of the room is a
counting desk, Perched on a high stool is a slim wraith-like
creature of the male sex with an enormous periwig atop a tiny
head so that he looks like a spider with a fleck of wool on
his head. He lays down a quill-pen on his ledger and rises to
greet Sims with a low bow. This worthy clerk is called Guy
Podge.
PODGE
(making a leg)
Good morning, Master Sims.
Sims takes off his hat, throws it to one corner of the room,
removes his scratch wig and lets it fall to the desk top.
PODGE
There is a Quaker waiting for you,
sir -- a master stone mason. Will
you have him in?
Sims looks around the desk.
SIMS
Podge where is my rhyming lexicon?
I want a rhyme for Mortimer.
PODGE
That Quaker, sir -
SIMS
Whatever are you rattling on about?
I have an important commission - a
rhymed comedy for Milord Mortimer -
and you bother me with some
snivelling Quaker.
PODGE
(humbly)
He's been waiting so long.
SIMS
Waiting?
PODGE
(with a glance at the
clock)
Four hours, sir.
SIMS
I waited three hours for Lord
Mortimer before he would give me a
dog's word. Let him wait.
PODGE
He will not wait. He's a good
workman and cheap, I'm told.
SIMS
Cheap?
(thinking a moment)
Let him in.
EXT. HALLWAY - DAY
Podge crosses to the door, leans out and beckons.
INT. SIMS OFFICE -DAY
In comes William Hannay, a young Quaker of about twenty-six,
dressed in the plain, neat habit of his sect. His hair is
unpowdered and is square cut. He looks both neat and washed,
which is a great deal more than can be said for even the
luxurious person of Lord Mortimer, to say nothing of the
fusty garments and dirty scratch wig of Master Sims. Podge
stands by the door while the Quaker advances and stands
before Sims' desk. Sims, who has returned to his perusal of
the book, does not lift his head. The Quaker stands silently.
Podge makes a nervous SOUND in his throat. Sims pays not the
least bit of attention. There is an awkward silence, then
Sims, very deliberately, closes the book and looks up.
SIMS
You may leave us, Podge.
Podge fusses out the door.
SIMS
My clerk tells me that you will do
the work cheaply.
HANNAY
With cut stone one foot thick and
the best mortar, I could do the
work for fifteen guineas.
SIMS
What if I were to give you eighteen
guineas?
HANNAY
It would be too much.
SIMS
(as If he had not heard)
Eighteen guineas and you are to
return to me two then you would I
have a better price and I would I
have some reason to employ you.
HANNAY
My friend - I have forgotten what
thee has said. If thee do not
repeat it, then I can believe no
evil of thee.
SIMS
What kind of can't is this? I've
asked you for a bribe, man! You've
never been asked before? This is
simple business between us two.
HANNAY
(obviously controlling his
temper)
My friend, about the stone masonry -
At his moment, the door bursts open and Nell Bowen comes
sailing into the room.
Sims reaches hastily for his scratch wig, slaps it on his
head and rises, smiling. Nell is in riding clothes and has a
crop in her hand.
SIMS
I had not looked forward to the
pleasure of seeing you so
I soon again, Mistress Bowen.
Nell Bowen, out of the corner of her eye, gives the Quaker an
appraising look, speaking to Sims as she does so.
NELL
I have a curiosity to see the
loonies in their cages.
SIMS
And so you shall and so you
shall.
Sims goes around the desk and offers her his arm with half
bow. She places her gloved hand on his elbow. Hannay steps
aside to let them pass out the door.
INT. CORRIDOR - ST. MARY'S OF BETHLEHEM - DAY
Sims and Nell come out into the corridor and he guides her
toward the left. Behind them Hannay emerges from the office
and stands waiting.
ANOTHER ANGELS - Nell and Sims walk down the hall. At the
rack, Sims pauses.
MED. CLOSE SHOT. - Sims and Nell. She looks up at the rack.
There are some gentlemen's hats, two small swords, a bludgeon
and a sheathed dirk on a broad leather belt hanging from this
apparatus. A guard stands beside it, Sims puts out his hand
for Nell's riding whip She looks puzzled and draws away from
him.
SIMS
Your riding crop. Mistress Bowen.
You must hang it here. It's a law
of the institute no weapons
NELL
For Heaven's sake, why?
SIMS
In his play, Dekker, a second-rate
dramatist of the last century,
wrote of those in there --
He gestures to the door at the end of the corridor.
SIMS
"Fierce as wild bulls/ untamable as
flys,/ And these have oft/ from
stranger's sides,/ Snatched rapiers
suddenly/ and done much harm."
NELL
Strangely one forgets you are a
man of letters, Master Sims.
Neil hands him her whip. He hangs it on the rack.
SIMS
Our hospital is ancient and well
known -- much written of - I dare
say, no man or woman comes to
London from the country who does
not pay his tupence.
He puts out his hand, palm up and Nell fumbles for a moment
in a reticule at her waist, brings forth some coins, counts
out two coppers and puts them in his hand. He smiles and
offers her his arm again.
TRUCKING SHOT - The CAMERA on a crane, DOLLIES BEFORE Nell
and Sims as they walk toward the doors at the end of the
corridor; The nearer they get to the door the closer the
CAMERA is to Nell's face so that finally she is in full CLOSE
UP. As she walks down the corridor strange cries, shrieks,
bursts of laughter and hysterical babblings grow louder and
louder, Nell, listening as she walks, grows more intent and
wondering. So long as Sims continues in the frame, he is
watching her reaction to these SOUNDS with cruel amusement.
As the CAMERA BACKS THROUGH the double doors, the doors
opening to either side, Nell's face is in FULL CLOSE-UP.
Both she and the CAMERA STOP.
The CAMERA HOLDS just long enough to convey the look of
horror on her countenance, then activated by the crane, the
CAMERA SWOOPS UP and BACK to reveal the SOUND and fury of
Bedlam.
(Note to Director: Please use care with the following
sequences according to conversation regarding the showing of
insane and lunatic persons.)
The main ward of Bedlam from the superior height of the
camera is shown as a strange, unearthly place. Barred windows
set high in the wall push dust-filled beams of sunlight
across the room, leaving the larger portion of the great hall
in shadow, In these shadows and in the blinding sunlight,
strange, aimless human beings can be dimly seen. At the same
moment that this curious room reveals itself to the eye the
horrid SOUND of Bedlam bursts upon the ear; the moans, the
shrieks, the maniacal laughter and the bird-like twitter of
idiocy. At the far end of the room, Sims leads Nell from the
dark doorway to a blazing square of sunlight.
FULL SHOT - Sims and Nell. Nell looks about her. What she
sees is one small section of the main hall of Bedlam. Near
the stairway are the open doors of two rooms through which
the mad inmates can be seen.
(This set up should approximate the picture of Bedlam by
Hogarth, with Sims and Nell in the places of the mistress and
the maid, visitors to the institution who can be seen in the
left middle b.g. of the painting.)
MED. CLOSE SHOT - Nell and Sims are seen through the weaving
ribbons in the fumbling hands of an idiot who is amusing
himself at "Cats Cradle."
SIMS
Are they not witty, Mistress Bowen?
Look at the frolic that this one
treats himself to. All day long
weaving nets to catch peacocks for
the Royal dinner.
He forces a laugh, Nell looks at him.
NELL
(quietly; still shocked by
the first contact with
the insane; almost as if
to herself)
They are all so lonely -- they are
all in themselves and by
themselves. They pay no heed to us.
SIMS
(smiling faintly)
You noticed that. They have their
world and we have ours.
NELL
(still speaking almost as
if to herself) )
Like separate dreams.
SIMS
Ours is a human world, theirs is
a bestial world -- without reason
and without soul. They're
animals.
He takes her arm.
TRUCKING SHOT - Nell and Sims as they approach a pillar that
holds up the roof of the great hall. At a small table butted
against this pillar sits a quiet, decently dressed man,
Oliver Todd, the author, who is busily writing with a quill
pen, Sidney Long, a tall, slim man of early middle age with a
bald head and dressed in breeches and waistcoat leans against
the table. Crouched at the foot of the table is a timorous
young maniac, Dan, whose eyes are wide with countless, unseen
terrors.
SIMS
(as they come up to this group)
Some are dogs, These I beat.
He lifts his hand and Dan, the Dog, crouches away from him in
abject fear,
SIMS
(as they continue to walk)
--and some are pigs.
(he points)
MED. CLOSE SHOT - A dirty man. This man has matted unkempt
hair and board and crouches down in a mass of soiled rags.
SIMS
--these I let wallow in their own
filth.
They pass on.
TRUCKING SHOT - Sims and Nell.
SIMS
Some are tigers -- their remedy is
a dose of iron -- chains.
He pauses and points.
ANOTHER ANGLE - to show the barred doorway of the room in
which Tom, the Tiger is confined. This is a gigantic maniac.
The rents of his garments show the muscles of his torso and
arms. He is chained to the wall; one chain binds his right
arm to the wall, another chain passes about his waist and
through in the wall behind him; other chains hold his legs.
Only his left arm and hand are free and with this hand he is
plucking at the chain which binds his torso.
MED. CLOSE SHOT - Dorothea, a young girl in a grey gown, her
dark hair falling about her shoulders. She stands statue-like
by a pillar, her eyes set in a vision of far away worlds.
Not a muscle moves in the face of this victim of melancholia.
As Sims and Nell come up to her, Sims stops and with a coarse
hand pats the cheek of the insane girl, the contemptuous sort
of pat one would give a heifer in passing a stall.
SIMS
- and some, like this one are
doves.
Nell looks at him with aversion.
NELL
I've seen enough.
She turns and starts away.
TRUCKING SHOT - Sims catches up with Nell and lays his hand
on her elbow.
SIMS
But you haven't seen the ones in
the cages -
NELL
I've seen enough.
She marches resolutely toward the door.
INT. CORRIDOR - ST. MARY'S OF BETHLEHEM - DAY
Nell, with Sims a pace behind her, comes out the double doors
and starts toward the rack.
MED. CLOSE SHOT - the rack with the Quaker in the b.g. Sims
and Nell come up, and Nell reaches for her whip. Sims, with
exaggerated politeness forestays her and hands it to her
ceremoniously.
SIMS
-- but you have no idea how merry
they can be -- what amusement they
afford --
NELL
Amusement? From that mad girl with
her staring eyes?
CLOSE TWO SHOT - Nell and Sims. With a sudden exasperated
movement, Nell lifts the whip and brings it down in a
smashing blow across Sims' cheek.
Sims nursing his cheek, makes a leg, backing away from her.
SIMS
If I have offended you, Mistress
Bowen --
Nell starts to lift the whip and he backs away from her. She
turns and starts rapidly away, flouncing past the Quaker
without giving him so much as a look.
CLOSE SHOT - Sims, as he watches, Nell.
EXT. ST. MARY'S OF BETHLEHEM - NOON
Before the door of the hospital stands a gnarled, misshapened
little valet, wearing postillion boots and holding the
bridles of two blooded horses. One of these horses carries a
side-saddle. They move restively and he calms them by patting
their necks.
Suddenly, the door of Bedlam bursts open and Nell, without
bothering to close it, comes quickly down the steps. Behind
her in the doorway, the Quaker appears and starts coming down
the steps.
MED. CLOSE SHOT - As Nell comes to her valet. She crosses
quickly to her horse, Varney cups his hand for Nell's foot to
help her mount. As she starts to put her foot between his
hands, she makes a sudden quick movement to transfer her crop
from her left to her right hand. The suddenness of the
movement alarms Varney's horse. It rears and Nell's horse
shies and pulls away from Varney. He tries to hold the reins
as the horse rears and plunges.
Suddenly, Hannay steps in, takes the reins from the little
valet, and after a brief struggle, he subdues the horse,
holds it for a moment patting Its neck to calm it.
NELL
Thank you, sir.
(smiling)
My valet can plait a tress or twirl
a furbelow quicker than a handy
woman, but he has no knack with
horses.
HANNAY
I was glad to do thee this service,
I saw thee strike Sims. Thee should
not have done that.
NELL
Do you think I'm afraid of him? Do
you think he could harm me?
HANNAY
(sailing)
Thee are able enough. It is the
poor ones in there I'm thinking of.
Sims will make them suffer for that
blow.
NELL
Are we lovers, that you "thee" and
"thou" me? I've never seen your
face before,
VARNEY
He's a Quaker, Mistress Bowen,
He goes through an absurd performance of shaking and
shuddering. Hannay looks at him with deep resentment,
HANNAY
My name is William Hannay. I am one
of the Society of Friends.
NELL
(scornfully)
I've heard of them. They turn the
other cheek,
HANNAY
(smiling)
There's more to being a Quaker than
turning the other check, and saying
"thee" and "thou".
It's feeling pity for those in
there, as you did,
NELL
Do you think I struck him because I
felt pity for the loonies?
HANNAY
I saw it in thy face.
Nell forces a laugh.
NELL
Pity? I had no such feelings, sir.
I struck the man because I wanted
to because he is an ugly thing in
a pretty world.
HANNAY
There are many ugly things in this
pretty world, if thou would but see
them.
NELL
(looking at him directly)
Master Quaker, I did not always
wear velvet.
HANNAY
(smiling)
Eh, I had guessed that. But where
there is one like thee to wrest
comfort from a hard world with wit
and cleverness there are ten
thousand who can not.
NELL
I have no pity for them. Let them
do as I did.
HANNAY
But those in there --
(pointing)
Can they help themselves?
NELL
And I have no pity for them, either
-- animals without souls --
HANNAY
That is not thy thoughts.
NELL
Is it not? Come a week hence to
Vauxhall in the evening and you
will see me laughing at those same
loonies you think I pity.
Nell makes a motion to Varney who cups his hands again. Nell
places her foot in his hands and mounts her horse.
HANNAY
Thou will not laugh at the poor and
the afflicted -- not thee. I have
seen great ladies and their hearts
were like stone, but thee --
As Varney mounts, Nell looks down at Hannay,
NELL
(gathering her horse)
My heart is a flint, sir -- it
may strike sparks, but they are
not warm enough to burn. I have
no time to make a show of loving
kindness before my fellow men --
not in this life. I've too much
laughing to do.
She strikes her booted foot against the horse's flank. Varney
rides after her. Hannay watches them.
FADE OUT
FADE IN
EXT. THE FETE CHAMPETRE - VAUXHALL GARDENS - NIGHT
The CAMERA SHOOTING OVER the necks of two fiddles
DISCLOSES a night scene from Fragonard: At a long table
covered with linen and gleaming with silver is a gay company.
The men are in court dress and powdered wigs; the women in
bouffant skirts. The whole scene is illuminated by
lanterns hung on tree limbs and in the bushes and shrubbery
of the gardens.
At one end of the table stands a structure not unlike the
tall, narrow apparatus which Punch and Judy shows are given.
A curtain hangs across the face of this box hiding its
contents from view.
The CAMERA EDGES BACK TO show the two musicians in the
foreground who sit on the lawn, their backs against the
bole of a great oak.: One la playing a violin,-the-
other a viola and behind them, standing leaning against the
trunk of the tree is another musician with a
Suddenly from the right a tumbler in multi-colored garments
comes whirling in, head over heels, a torch in either hand.
His last violent somersault brings him right side up in front
of the table.
MED. CLOSE SHOT - Lord Mortimer at the center of the table
with Nell at his right hand and another lady on his left.
In front of the table is Sims, dressed in court satins and
wearing a white wig on his head. The acrobat, torches in
either outstretched hand, has come to a stop just beside
him,
REVERSE SHOT - SHOOTING OVER Lord Mortimer's shoulder. Sims,
grinning, holds the acrobat's head in his hands at table
level, his right hand under the man's chin and his left hand
on top of his head. The effect is that of a man who holds
a manikin head, inasmuch as the acrobats face is masked
with a sharp-nosed Venetian mask through which the eves
gleam in mad fun,
SIMS
(ceremoniously)
--and here, Milord, is the
spirit of Lunacy to illuminate
the Golden Age of Reason
He releases the mad acrobat's head.
ANOTHER ANGLE - With a prodigious leap the acrobat
whirls, somersaults and lands on his knees in front of the
gaily painted box. He holds up his torches and the
curtains slowly part to reveal what appears to be a gilded
statue; the subject a youth crowned with bays, a loin cloth
around his hips and a golden orb and scepter in his hands,
ANOTHER ANGLE - to include the entire table. There is
a stir among Milord's guests; exclamations of delight and a
light patter of applause. Sims bows.
SIMS
Lit by Lunacy and speaking with the
voice of Youth, the Age of Reason
will tell you of its brightest
adornment--(with a gesture) Milord
Mortimer.
MED. CLOSE SHOT - The gilded boy moves forward to the
little stage-like projection at the opening of the box. For
the first time it can be seen that this is not a statue,
but a young boy of about twelve covered from head to foot
with gold leaf. Now that his eyes are open, they stare
wildly pale in contrast to the gilded skin. He tries to
speak, gasps, and tries again.
MED. FULL SHOT - with Sims in the foreground.
SIMS
(lightly)
Come Reason, you've wit enough
to say a word or two.
The boy tries again.
MED. CLOSE SHOT - Lord Mortimer as he half rises and calls
down to the end of the table.
MILORD
What say you to this Wilkes --a mad
boy playing Reason. That's a Tory
joke for you.
MED. CLOSE SHOT , The end of the table. Here sit Lord
Sandwich and John Wilkes. A pretty girl sits between them
with numerous patches on her face. Wilkes bends across to
speak to Lord Mortimer.
WILKES
...And only the Tories laugh at
it. The opposition wonders what
the effect may be on that sick
young boy. The Tories care only
for the jest, we Whigs have some
concern for the humanities.
MED. CLOSE SHOT - Milord.
MILORD
You hear that, Nell give them a
jest and they answer with a
political tirade.
NELL
He said something about the boy --
the effect --?
MILORD
(carelessly)
Go and ask him. He'll make you a
speech on the matter.
Nell shrugs.
MED. FULL SH0T - The gilded boy - Sims in the f.g. and part
of the company at that end of the table.
GILDED BOY
To this pretty world
CLOSE SHOT - Nell.
GILDED BOY'S VOICE
(fumbling over the words)
pretty world --
She looks thoughtful, then starts to rise.
FULL SHOT - The entire company as Nell starts down toward
Wilkes' end of the table. (Note to Director: Please avoid
showing the full figure of the gilded boy as much as possible
by using the voice to gain such effects as can be had.)
GILDED BOY
To this pretty world, there came
Heaven sent, Divinely Inspired -
He breaks off.
SIMS
Good good the great voice of
reason.
GILDED BOY
The blessing of our age
He stops again.
SIMS
(prodding him with his
cane)
Come, come! I spent all morning
beating it into your head.
The people at the table laugh. The gilded boy drops the
scepter and clutches his throat as if it pained him.
SIMS
(Turning to Lord Mortimer)
You see, Milord, Reason is overcome
with emotion when it must speak of
you.
MILORD
Prod him on, Sims.
SIMS
Come on! A few more of those golden
words I taught you, lad.
GILDED BOY
A man set like a jewel --
MED. CLOSE SHOT - The other end of the table. Nell is
bending over Wilkes' shoulder to speak to him. He is half
turned.
WILKES
The effect? Somewhere I heard that
the human body must breathe through
its pores. If you shut those pores -
He gestures toward the glided boy. Nell looks over, nods and
starts back.
Nell looks over.
EXTREME LONG SHOT - The young lunatic in his bright gilt is
writhing in agony. By now the orb, too, has joined the
spectre on the ground. Sims points at him _with his pane.
SIMS
Another word, good, gentle Reason.
GILDED BOY
(in a voice choked with
pain)
this prince of men, this paragon -
He stops, fighting for breath.
SIMS
Go on.
CLOSE SHOT - Lord Mortimer with the two ladies on either
side. He is laughing and the hand that holds his wine glass
shakes with mirth and the wine drops over the satin of his
coat and stains the ruffles at his wrist.
The woman at his left bends forward, eager and excited by the
pain she witnesses. Her face is set.
SIMS' VOICE
Go on -- go on!
MED. FULL SHOT -- Sims and the glided boy -- Sims prods at
him with his cane.
GILDED BOY
(forcing it out)
Lord Mortimer -
He falls to the ground and lies still.
FULL SHOT - The table. There Is a general stir, but most of
this movement is the excitement of laughter.
MED. CLOSE SHOT - as Nell comes to stand beside Lord
Mortimer.
MILORD
(laughing)
Bless me, Nell, better than
your parrot -- what an eulogy -
from a mad boy freezing with ague
and burning with fevers.
Nell looks at him without replying.
MED. FULL SHOT - Sims bending over the boy. Two footmen with
white aprons over their livery come into the scene.
SIMS
(to the servants)
Duck him in the river -- a
bit of canvas and a handful of
coarse sand will get the gilt off.
As he says this,Nell leans across the table toward him.
NELL
Master Sims
He turns in her direction.
NELL
Isn't that harsh treatment for a
sick lad?
SIMS
They have to get off the gilt if
he's to be well again.
NELL
So you know that.
Sims looks at her with an air of surprise.
SIMS
Know what, Mistress Bowen?
NELL
You know that anyone painted
over so thick as this poor lad
will die.
ANOTHER ANGLE - the table. This has become more
interesting than the guests had anticipated. They are
craning forward eagerly some still half-smiling from
their former laughter.
CLOSE SHOT - Sims.
SIMS
If I understand you properly, this
boy is dying because --
A footman kneeling, beside the boy looks up and plucks at
Sims' sleeve. Sims looks down.
FOOTMAN
The boy is dead, sir.
SIMS
(correcting himself)
-- the boy is dead because his
pores were clogged by the gilt.
GROUP SHOT.
SIMS
Well, then, sweet Mistress Bowen,
as you are such a stickler for the
correct definition, you will grant
me the legal fact that this boy
died by his own exhalations. You
might say he poisoned himself.
FULL SHOT - the table. As the guests hear this, they burst
into loud laughter.
FOOTMAN
(to Sims)
Where shall we take him?
SIMS
I have told you -- the river
canvas sand -- there is no change
in my order.
The servants start to pick up the boy.
ANOTHER ANGLE - SHOOTING PAST Nell as she watches the
servants carry away the limp body of the boy. Then she looks
at Lord Mortimer. He Is pouring wine; his chuckles subsiding.
She looks to the right. A fop is seated there, licking pastry
off his fingers.
NELL
Milord -- have we not had enough of
this?
MILORD
Eh?
NELL
(pointing to Sims)
Enough of this boring, dull man and
his cruelty. "
MILORD
But we're all laughing, Nell.
NELL
I'm not laughing, Milord..
MILORD
He shall make you laugh.
(calling)
Sims!
NELL
Spare me that.
She starts to turn away.
MILORD
But Nell
NELL
A boy died tonight - a boy -- a
boy who had no mind to guide his
thoughts or deeds maybe there'll
be some concern about that among
the Whigs. There certainly is none
among the Tories.
MILORD
Oh, you'll find they're laughing
too.
She starts away and he gives her a little push in back as if
it were a benediction and a blessing. She moves off.
MED. CLOSE SHOT - Wilkes, Lord Sandwich and the paramour of
that nobleman.
LORD SANDWICH
Liberty that is a great word you
Whigs found somewhere, but just the
same, you'll end either with the
pox or on the gallows.
WILKES
That, Milord, depends on whether I
embrace your sweetheart or your
politics.
Lord Sandwich and his companion burst out laughing.
Wilkes Joins in.
ANOTHER ANGLE. It is at this moment that Nell comes walking
up behind them. She has not heard what was said; she hears
only the laughter. She looks at them for a moment without
speaking, then with a look of disappointment, walks off.
LONG SHOT - Lord Mortimer's end of the table.
Sims is leading up a young lady whose face is also adorned
with a Venetian mask. This one is fringed and hung with tiny
bells.
SIMS
(with the air of one who
is master of ceremonies)
Here is Alfrieda, Queen of the
Artichokes. She will sing for you.
FULL SHOT as seen from Nell's angle. She hears the roar of
laughter and sees the poor, mad wench trembling at Sims'
side, then turns and passes into the darkness between the
trees. As she does so, a cracked female voice can be heard
beginning the song. "One World's Turned Upside Down."
DISSOLVE
EXT. LONDON STREET - NIGHT
CLOSE SHOT - a barber shop window. (See Hogarth's painting,
"Night".) The window is set with small square panes of
glass. In each pane is a short candle. This candle-light
illuminates not only the interior of the barber shop but also
a portion of the darkness outside. Through the window, as
in the Hogarth painting, a barber can be seen shaving a
customer, holding the customer's nose between thumb and
forefinger to steady his head. The CAMERA DRAWS BACK TO show
a doorway at one side of the barber shop. On this doorway
is lettered
THE SOCIETY OF FRIENDS
Meeting House
As the CAMERA HOLDS on this doorway, the doors open and
Quaker men and women come quietly out into the street. Some
walk one way, some the other. William Hannay comes out and
starts down past the barber shop. As the light from the
candle-lit window falls on him, a voice from the other side
of the street calls his name,
NELL'S VOICE
Master Hannay --
Hannay stops abruptly puzzled.
MED. FULL SHOT - Nell's carriage, parked on the other side of
the street. Varney opens the door and Nell, in all the
finery she wore at the fete, comes out and sweeps across the
street, the CAMERA PANNING WITH her.
FULL TWO SHOT - Nell as she comes up to Hannay,
HANNAY
This is a strange place to see
thee, Mistress Bowen,
NELL
(looking around)
A little dull perhaps but a good
enough place to ask the
questions I want to ask.
HANNAY
(smiling)
So far, Mistress Bowen, I have
found thee more ready with
answers then with questions.
NELL
Don't fear -- my questions are pert
enough. First, do you
think me a woman of kind heart?
HANNAY
So I have told thee.
NELL
Why?
HANNAY
I saw thy face at Bedlam it had
compassion and kindness.
NELL
I have never seen that in my
mirror. But let's say I grant
the fact let's say I saw
things that moved me to pity --
what then, Master Quaker?
HANNAY
Perhaps God sent thee here so that
thee might find guidance -
NELL
From you?
HANNAY
I have not said so.
NELL
Well, from whom then?
HANNAY
Perhaps he sent thee so that we
might speak together.
NELL
I have seen things tonight I
have no liking for my friends
laughing at sorry idiots brought
out from Bedlam to amuse them --
a poor boy --
HANNAY
Thou need not tell me. It Is
a bad time for the poor -- and
people suffer, the ones With wit
and the ones-without.
NELL
And if you feel sorry for them -
what do you do about all this?
HANNAY
I do what I can. I am a stone
mason.
NELL
How does that help people?
HANNAY
I build well -- let others build as
well and soon this city will
be a clean and decent habitation.
NELL
But what of me? What can I do? I'm
only a jester to bring laughter to
Lord Mortimer's dinner table.
HANNAY
Perhaps even in the amusement of
Mortimer there may be a way for
thee to help the poor people in
Bedlam. Is not Mortimer a member of
the Council?
She looks at him for a moment, then nods her head.
NELL
Good. You're not such a fool as
I thought you.
(suddenly flirtatious and feminine)
But why don't you remove your
hat have you no liking for me?
Almost instinctively the Quaker starts to lift his hand
to his hat brim then stops and brings it down to his
side.
HANNAY
It is a rule among the Friends to
uncover only before God.
She smiles at his confusion. He smiles back at her
FADE OUT
FADE IN
INT. LORD MORTIMER'S ANTE-CHAMBER - DAY
CLOSE SHOT - Pompey. The little colored boy is seated on a
high stool, examining with a dandified air the polish of his
finger nail. He turns from this elegant diversion to
the disdainful contemplation of some person at the other
aide of the room.
The CAMERA PANS WITH his glance to reveal Master Sims
in his snuff-brown coat, his chin on his cane, waiting
as he waited before.
ANOTHER ANGLE of the room - showing the door to Lord
Mortimer's chamber. The door opens, a gentleman Is
= ushered out by a footman, who, holding the door open,
turns to Sims.
;'
FOOTMAN Milord will see you now, Master Sims.
Sims rises slowly, crosses to the door and goes through it,
Pompey watches him with lofty interest. When the ..
door closes-behind Sims, Pompey returns to the elegant
examination of his finger nails,
INT. LORD MORTIMER'S chamber - DAY
Milord, dressed in his small clothes but without his coat, is
seated before his poudoir. His valet is in attendance. At
the moment of Sir-is' entrance, Lord Mortimer has his fat
face deep within a paper cone and the valet is sprinkling
powder on his dressed wig,
Nell is seated on a straight chair beside a little table on
which is a plate of biscuits and a glass of wine. She is
nibbling at a biscuit.
SIMS
(making a leg)
Good morning, Mistress Bowen,
NELL
(gaily)
Good morning.
Lord Mortimer emerges from the powder cone,
MILORD
Ah, there, Sims -- Ah, Sit down
and wait a bit, I've news for you.
He puts his face back in the cone,
SIMS
(to Nell)
I trust you enjoyed the fete.
NELL
You will hear presently how much I
enjoyed it.
Lord Mortimer emerges from the cone. The valet takes . ;
it away from him and begins to whisk the loose powder
from his shoulders,
;
MILORD
Sims, you've no idea what we've
decided, Nell has a splendid
notion. She wants to turn
¦
Bedlam upside down -- make all
:
the loonies happy as linnets,
SIMS Mistress Bowen is very kind.
You can't imagine what a clever
vixen she is, Sims--- thought
it all out before she oven spoke
to me -- beds -¦- blankets --
1
some to sow and some to bake --
good food a practical lass,
SIMS
(smiling)
I can quite understand what
Mistress Bowen wants. We've
needed good beds and good food in
Bedlam for a long while,
NELL
You've forgotten to mention good
treatment, Master Sims,
SIMS
That, too, I'm sure we could
afford that.
He pauses, looking at Nell.
SIMS
You can't imagine what gratitude I
bear you, Mistress Bowen, Those
reforms you propose will make my
name stand out in the history of
Bedlam --
The valet begins to hang a sash around Lord Mortimer's bosom.
Lord Mortimer rises to facilitate this ministration,
MILORD
(to Sims)
We know you'd agree.
SIMS
I'm overjoyed, Milord,
MILORD
Good good.
(to Nell)
You see, it's done, Nell -- not a
bit of trouble.
SIMS
There is but one little point,
Milord the trifling matter of
money.
NELL
(quickly)
Milord has thought of that..
MILORD
Of course of course - the council
will vote the funds.
SIMS
That is generous of you, Milord
very generous.
NELL
How so, Sims? What sort of
generosity?
SIMS
Does not Milord have property in
Moorfields?
MILORD
A dozen dwelling houses a
warehouse two inns. You see,
Sims, I know my accounts,
SIMS
I know your properties. They are
taxable by the institute,
therefore, Milord, this reform
would cost you no loss than five
hundred guineas in additional
taxes. But what is that to you,
Milord -- a more bagatelle some
little gift you'd gladly give to
Mistress Bowen,
NELL
I'll relinquish that little gift,
Master Sims.
MILORD
I gave you no gift, Nell.
SIMS
She merely speaks, Milord, of a
gift she's not going to have. Now
take Master Wilkes -- he would
never be so generous -- he would
say, "Loonies don't vote."
MILORD
But that's true. There is
nothing to be had from them.
NELL
You were going to do this as a kind
deed, Milord.
SIMS
(murmuring)
Five hundred guineas.
MILORD
There would be so much I would have
to do without. We'll have to
forget this whim of yours, Nell.
NELL
It is not a whim, Milord. It is the
first thing I've asked of you.
SIMS
(protesting)
Now, Mistress Bowen, Milord has to
keep up appearances at Court
that's a great expense to a man.
MILORD
That's true. You've no idea,
Nell, what a great responsibility
it is to be rich what an expense.
NELL
It's simply this, Milord I've
asked you to do a good deed - and
you find the very thought of it too
expensive.
MILORD
You've no right to speak to me that
way, Nell.
NELL
I've all the rights of having put
up with you for almost a year
Milord trying to make you laugh
and then listening to that fat
laugh of yours as it comes rumbling
out of your fat throat.
MILORD
(sputtering)
Put up with me -- with me --
NELL
I said so.
MILORD
But look what I've done for you.
You'd be camping In the rain on
Strathmore Common with the other
strolling players if you had not
caught my eye.
NELL
Do you call that weak and watery
vessel your eye? I would not
want to look at the world
through it. I would not want to be
a dull man forever in need of
amusement. I would not want to
bribe and be bribed -- to fawn upon
the king and kick the commoner -
in short, Milord, I would not
want to be Lord Mortimer.
SIMS
Such angry words.
MILORD
(sputtering)
You would not want -- you would not
want --
NELL
(as she starts for the
door)
Nor do I want to be with you --
not for an instant longer -
maybe being rich and great and
powerful is infectious -- it's a
disease I don't want to catch.
Goodbye, Milord.
At the doorway she turns. An amused light comes into
her eyes. She first grins, then grimaces and sticks her
tongue out at Lord Mortimer,
INT. ANTE-CHAMBER - DAY
Nell comes quickly out of the door and passes with a rush
through the ante-chamber. Pompey, still seated on the high
stool, looks at her in astonishment. And when the wind of
her passage subsides, he sits puzzling out the meaning of
this passionate exit. With a shrug he gives up the mental
effort and takes from his pocket a pair of "conquerors",
two chestnuts, each tied to a separate string, which he
proceeds to bang together to see which one "wins."
Then, as the door to the inner room begins to open, he
quickly stuffs them back Into his pocket and assumes a
formal air. Sims and Lord Mortimer appear in the doorway.
Lord Mortimer's arm is familiarly about the shoulders of the
other man.
SIMS
Of course, as I pointed out to you,
you have every right to take legal
steps --
MILORD
You've been very helpful, Sims.
SIMS
But it grieves me, Milord, to have
been the cause of the quarrel.
He starts to go through the door, with him.
Lord Mortimer goes
MILORD
It was not your fault. She
quarreled with me. She insulted me.
Sims bows and Lord Mortimer closes the door behind him, Sims
straightens himself; breathes deeply. Pompey watches him,
then suddenly jumps off the stool, bows and says with great
respect.
POMPEY
May I guide you to the door, Master
Sims?
With assured pride, Master Sims follows the pageboy from the
room.
FADE OUT
FADE IN
INT. NELL'S LODGINGS - MORNING
The place is in an uproar, A bailiff, assisted by
several porters, is removing the furniture. The
bailiff has a paper in his hand which he waves angrily
before Nell's face. Varney cowers in one corner. The
parrot on its stand in the other corner of the room is
screaming and flapping its wings. Nell has a dish in her
hand and this dish is in imminent danger of being thrown
at the bailiff.
BAILIFF (WAVING THE PAPER)
You know Lord Mortimer's signature
--is this not it?
NELL
I can recognize a pig's tracks
when I see them.
BAILIFF
Then you know I have the right to
remove the furniture which he
loaned you.
NELL
Loan does he call it? He and that
loathsome Sims.
BAILIFF
It is all legal -- all by order.
NELL
Oh, take it and get out!
She lifts her hand. The bailiff ducks. She puts the dish
down gently on a small table. The bailiff picks it up and
hands it to one of the porters. He crosses the room and
picks up the parrot, stand and all. Varney comes out of his
corner and takes hold of the stand.
VARNEY
That's not Lord Mortimer's.
NELL
Leave Poll alone. She's no present
to bo given and taken back.
VARNEY
She's been with Mistress Bowen
since Mistress Bowen played
"Aurora" in "The Rivals."
(proudly)
We did very well in that.
The bailiff relinquishes the parrot and looks around the
room which has been cleared by his men. With a courteous
tilt of his hat he goes out. Nell looks around her. There
is nothing in the little room except Varney, herself and
the parrot on the stand. She begins to laugh.
NELL
Serves me right, Varney. A kind
heart butters no parsnips.
VARNEY
But what shall we do, Mistress
Bowen? We've nothing but the
clothes we wear and poor Poll.
NELL
Poll? Poll's enough---
CLOSE SHOT - the parrot as she reacts by cocking her head
quizzically to one side.
DISSOLVE OUT
DISSOLVE IN
INT. LORD MORTIMER'S ANTE-CHAMBER - AFTERNOON
MED. FULL SHOT of Sims and Mistress Sims. Mistress Sims is a
young woman of about thirty. She is dressed in the mode, with
perhaps a little more elegance than an honest woman would
display. Her figure is good and when she moves there is an
assurance and authority in her movements that one would not
readily ascribe to a young and innocent girl. On her face are
several decorative patches; their placement, as was the
manner of the time, dictated by such skin blemishes or marks
of disease as they wore intended to hide.
SIMS
--andremember if gin is offered
you, my dear, you must take wine
it is more genteel.
MISTRESS SIMS
But I like gin. It makes me merry.
SIMS
You'll be merry enough on wine.
MISTRESS SIMS
But you tell me that Lord Mortimer
likes a witty girl.
SIMS
You'd best leave the wit to me,
I'll make you seem witty.
MISTRESS SIMS
I can crack a joke well enough.
SIMS
Not in good company, my dear niece.
You're not accustomed to it, you
know.
MISTRESS SIMS
(hurt)
I've known some gentlemen.
SIMS
But this is a lord -- a man from
whose largess many blessings can
come to the family of Sims -- and
all for just a little laughter.
That's all he wants to be amused.
MISTRESS SIMS
A fine lord indeed! Mocked by a
parrot.
SIMS
But that parrot is our key to open
Milord's friendship to you.
Remember, you were offended -- you
offered money --
It is at this moment a footman emerges from the interior
chamber, and, with a bow, gestures to the open door.
HIT. LORD MORTIMER'S CHAMBER - AFTERNOON
Lord Mortimer is at a small Sheraton desk, writing with a
quill pen. He rises to greet his visitors.
SIMS
Milord a dreadful things --
He catches himself in a pretense that his excitement had
overcome his good manners.
SIMS
Lord Mortimer, this is my niece,
Kitty.
MILORD
A charming person -- she does you
honor, Sims. But have you heard the
latest news of my lady Mistress
Nell? What a jest she's hit upon.
SIMS
You mean the parrot, Milord? It is
because of that we've come here.
MILORD
(admiringly)
-- A great bit of jest -- what a
vixen!
Sims and Mistress Sims exchange glances.
SIMS
I had hardly thought to find you in
such humor.
MILORD
But it's only a jest. Nell has the
bird for sale in the market place
letting it scream that silly ditty,
"Lord Mortimer is like a pig, His
brain's small and his belly big."
All London's come to laugh at the
bird.
SIMS
So they have. And It does you no
good, Milord, This joke will make
your proud name a mockery.
MILORD
The bird won't sing too long. I've
sent Pompey to buy it,
MISTRESS SIMS
(in a rather flat, vulgar tone)
That girl holds the bird at a high
enough price.
Sims darts her a look.
SIMS
(quickly)
My niece knowing of my affection
for you tried to buy the bird. She
offered twenty guineas and was
refused.
Lord Mortimer starts to cross to a small table on which are
sot out a carafe of wine, glasses and a stone bottle of
Holland gin.
MILORD
Oh, Mistress Bowen wants more
honey, on her bread than that,
Sims." Pompey has a purse with a
hundred guineas in it.
MISTRESS SIMS
(with a glance at Sims)
A hundred guineas for a bird!
MILORD
Will you have some wine, Mistress
Sims?
MISTRESS SIMS
Wine is too French for me, Milord.
It is the way I feel about men. I
like men to be as big as beer and
as strong as gin. Beer has a head
on it, you know. You can't say
that for wine. Gin has some muscle
to it and you can't say that for
wine either.
Sims tries to give her a warning glance. She takes the drink
of gin Lord Mortimer has poured for her,
MILORD
(watching her)
Bless me, I've never heard anyone
put it that way.
SIMS
There is much to be said for our
national institutions.
It is at this moment that there is a discreet knock at the
door.
MILORD
Come in.
Pompey enters and as he comes through the doorway he holds up
a purse apparently full of guineas. '
MILORD
She refused?
POMPEY
She said it was not enough.
MILORD
What sort of game is this?
POMPEY
Mistress Bowen told me to tell you
the bird would remain for sale and
that you could sell every property
you owned and not have money enough
to buy it.
SIMS
Oh that's the way the wind blows,
Milord.
MILORD
Malign me - The girl digs her spurs
too deep.
Sims beckons and Lord Mortimer follows him to a corner of the
room.
SIMS
(whispering)
Milord, we can always make her my
guest.
MILORD
At Bedlam no, no. She's as sane
as you and I.
SIMS
Was Colby mad? He was my guest.
MILORD
We've been good comrades, Nell and
I. I'll not do that.
SIMS
As you will, Milord.
They start out of the two shot,
MED. FULL SHOT - as the two men cross the room to
where Mistress Sims is seated. Mistress Sims pours a glass
of gin and hands it to Lord Mortimer,
MISTRESS SIMS
Here, Milord. Here's confusion to
your enemies.
Milord takes the glass. She clinks her glass against his
and they both drink. Sims watches them and smiles,
SIMS
It's a shrewd trick. You can't re
strain a parrot from slander --
you can't exercise the right of
privacy against a bird. But I
have a way, Milord.
MISTRESS SIMS
Another drink? It will make you a
lion.
Milord takes the drink and swallows it at a gulp.
MILORD
I'm an angry man.
SIMS
There are laws against the
depredations of live stock,
Milord, is not a parrot live
stock? Are you not suffering
loss. You know that, "he who
steals my purse steals trash - but
he who --"
MISTRESS SIMS
(interrupting)
Why I heard that at the
playhouse.
Sims gives her a look to silence her.
MILORD
What do you suggest?
SIMS
We can swear out a writ of seizure
- send a bailiff for the parrot and
have it here within the hour,
MILORD
We could do that.
SIMS
Indeed we can.
MISTRESS SILK
Arrest a parrot? I'll drink on
that, Milord.
She tosses off another glass of Hollands.
DISSOLVE
INT. LORD MORTIMER'S ANTE-CHAMBER - DAY
Pompey jumps off his stool and back up against the wall to
get out of the way as a whole squad of people come
crowding through. There is a bailiff who has Varney
clutched firmly by one elbow while with the other hand Varney
holds onto the parrot. After then come Nell and Hannay,
BAILIFF
(hauling and tugging at
Varney)
Come along -- come along.
His efforts to push Varney through the door into Milord's
room are so violent that he blocks the door instead of
opening it and has to pull Varney around to one side to clear
the doorway. This momentary stoppage enables the Quaker to
say a word to Nell,
HANNAY
I told thee no good would come of
it. Thee can not mock thy friends
this way.
NELL
Mock him -- he'll wish I'd only
mocked him when I finish.
HANNAY
Softly.
NELL
Bah!
She flings into the other room after the bailiff and Varney.
Hannay quietly follows her.
INT. LORD MORTIMER'S BED CHAMBER - DAY
Milord and Mistress Sims are a bit reddened by the gin they
have consumed, but Sims himself is seated elegantly,
delicately holding up a tiny wine glass. Milord, his wig a
bit awry goes lurching across the room toward Varney.
MILORD
I swore I'd wring its neck. Give
me that bird, Varney.
Varney looks fearfully from Lord Mortimer to Nell.
NELL
Your gifts you can take back,
Milord, but the parrot was mine, is
mine and remains mine as long as I
want.
Lord Mortimer lurches forward and seizes the parrot roughly
from Varney's wrist. With one hand he holds it by the body,
the wings fluttering, with the other hand he seizes its neck.
The parrot squawks piteously. Nell screams. The Quaker steps
forward and with a quick movement, takes the parrot from Lord
Mortimer.
HANNAY
Thee must be careful of other's
property.
MILORD
(making a great bustle to
get at his sword)
Curse you, man! You'll fight me for
this.
Nell takes the parrot from the stone mason; smooths its
disturbed plumage with her hand. Lord Mortimer finally gets
out his sword.
MILORD
(furiously)
Draw man, draw!
HANNAY
As thee can see, I an weaponless, I
do not fight nor brawl with other
men.
MILORD
(furiously advancing and
menacing the Quaker with
his sword)
You will fight me.
HANNAY
I cannot!
MILORD
Fight or I'll run you through.
He has the point against the Quaker's chest.
MILORD
Will you not fight?
The Quaker shakes his head,
NELL
Milord --
The muscles of Lord Mortimer's fat arm tense as he prepares
to thrust. Hannay sees the desire to strike in the
other's eyes. With a quick movement of his arm, he
brushes aside the sword and seizes Lord Mortimer by both
arms.
HANNAY
(very quietly)
Friend, thou hast no quarrel with
me.
He gives Lord Mortimer a shove. Lord Mortimer goes stumbling
backwards, catches his heel on the edge of the carpet and
falls backward into the depths of the feather mattress_ on
his bed,
CLOSE SHOT - Lord Mortimer struggling to get up from the soft
cushions. Nell with the parrot on her wrist bends over him,
laughing.
PARROT
(shouting)
Lord Mortimer -- Lord Mortimer --
Hannay bends into the scene, takes a firm hold on Nell's arm
and draws her back, saying.
HANNAY
(with a slight smile)
Thee must not mock thy friend.
FULL SHOT - The group, Hannay takes Nell's arm and quickly
gets her out of the room while the bailiff and Sims rush to
aid Lord Mortimer.
CLOSE SHOT _ Sims and the bailiff help Lord Mortimer to get
up. On his angry face
FADE OUT
FADE IN
EXT. STONE YARD - AFTERNOON
It is a bright sunny day and the clink of the hammers on the
chisels makes a merry and industrious sound. Two or three
journeymen are busy squaring blocks of granite. In the f.g.
Nell is seated on a block of cut stone with her skirts lifted
a few inches to protect them from the dust. Behind her stands
Varney with the parrot on his wrist, Hannay stands before her
in his work apron, his sleeves rolled and a sledge in his
hand.
HANNAY
Thee can earn an honest living for
thyself.
NELL
I had to sew my costumes when I was
on the stage.
VARNEY
Two shillings a week and all found
for a seamstress.
HANNAY
One can live well on that if one is
frugal.
NELL
(sighing)
What would I do with Varney? Who'd
have him?
Hannay feels Varney's arm muscles and shakes his head,
HANNAY
Thou hast not strength enough for a
mason, Varney.
NELL
(shrugging)
You see?
HANNAY
Just the same I'll give Varney
work. He can sweep up the dust
here. He has strength enough for
that,
NELL
He sweeps, and I sew -- all very
fine, but not very exciting.
(to Varney)
What do you think of it, Varney?
VARNEY
I like a merry life, Mistress
Bowen.
NELL
(rising suddenly)
And so by blazes -- so do I!
Everyone makes his living with his
own tricks. My tricks are not
yours, Master Stonemason.
VARNEY
If I may say a word. Mistress Bowen
-- you still have many friends
NELL
That I have! There's Captain
Standing but he's always talking
about Fontenoy - and Mr. Armiston
and Wilkes - there's Wilkes -
(admiringly)
"That devil Wilkes." He's a clever
man and Sims fears him.
DISSOLVE
INT. JOHN LARD'S PUBLISHING HOUSE - DAY
This is a small shop opening directly onto the street. The
walls are lined with bookcases and a library ladder serves
the highest shelves. On this ladder a gentleman with a cocked
hat pushed back on his wig sits reading. There are bins of
books on the sidewalk in front of the shop and counters
within. At the rear of the shop is a manually operated
printing press. The shop is fairly well filled with
customers; serious gentlemen who are looking at books,
discussing prints and indulging in political arguments. Sims
is standing near the printing press with a companion, a stout
gentleman who looks not unlike Dr. Samuel Johnson. The CAMERA
is set up to SHOOT THROUGH the press. The press lowers,
stamps and starts to move up. The printer, wearing the
typical box hat of his trade, reaches into the press for the
finished sheet and hands it to Sims.
INSERT THE FINISHED SHEET. It is a cartoon by Hogarth
depicting John Wilkes with horns, a tail and a devil's
pitchfork.
BACK TO SCENE - Sims and the other man chuckle and look over
to another corner of the shop.
The CAMERA FANS WITH their gaze to pick up Wilkes and Nell
standing near a small counter. Wilkes has a book in his hand.
He is talking across it to Nell.
WILKES
So far as I'm concerned, dear
Mistress Bowen, you need not teach
your parrot any special phrases for
my benefit.
Nell looks at him for a moment, trying to figure out this
cryptic statement.
NELL
Am I to understand from that,
Master Wilkes that you're not
interested not in Bedlam nor in
me?
She makes a movement as if to go. He restrains her by
putting his hand lightly on her arm.
WILKES
I did not mean that. I meant only
that I am a different sort of a man
from Lord Mortimer. I am not easily
pleased.
Again Nell and Wilkes exchange a long silent glance.
NELL
I think you expect too much, Master
Wilkes.
WILKES
I offer more. You want to fight
the nastiness and the corruption of
Bedlam and I offer you political
alliance with John Wilkes. Bring me
evidence and I'll be pleased to
take it to court.
NELL
Let us say that puts a brighter
face on the matter Master Wilkes .
WILKES
One gives a girl a kiss to seal a
certain kind of bargain, Nell.
NELL
(protesting)
This is a rather public place,
Master Wilkes.
WILKES
(disregarding her)
But one shakes hands with a comrade
and a friend.
He puts out his hand. Smiling delightedly, Nell gives him her
hand.
THE CAMERA PANS BACK TO SIMS AND HIS COMPANION.
FRIEND
(smiling at cartoon)
This is a real blow at Wilkes,
SIMS
(looking off at Nell and
Wilkes)
It is a blow I'll leave you to
administer. I've a blow of his to
ward away.
He puts his hat on his head and starts for the door.
FADE OUT
FADE IN
INT. LORD MORTIMER'S CHAMBER - LATE AFTERNOON
A little table has been drawn up to the fireplace and around
this table sit Lord Mortimer, Master Sims and Nell Bowen.
SIMS
-- and so you see, Mistress Bowen,
Milord thought it would --be best
to make friends again.
NELL
On your advice, I suppose, and for
some purpose of your own?
SIMS
(with a resigned gesture)
Milord, speak to the girl.
MILORD
Every word he says is true and
better put than I could say it,
NELL
Well, so we're friends again. You
go your way and I go my way.
SIMS
But friends aren't that off-handed
with each other, Mistress Bowen,
Milord would like to be kind to
you.
NELL
I'm duly warned. Go on.
Sims holds up a large bank note. After a proper pause to let
Nell take in the full significance and amount of the bill, he
speaks:
SIMS
Milord thinks you've been looking
rather pale as of late perhaps
the waters of Bath a rest
He hands over the bank note. Nell takes it and looks from
him to Lord Mortimer. She then reaches out to the tea table
and picks up two pieces of bread as she speaks.
NELL
(to Lord Mortimer)
Milord, you know that I have a
contempt for certain kinds of
money. How deep that contempt is I
am about to show you.
She takes a big bite of the bank-note sandwich, chews and
swallows it then throws the rest of it into the fireplace.
SIMS
(bowing to her across the
table)
The Bank of England thanks you for
three hundred pounds.
Nell rises and cuffs his face for his impertinence. This
makes Lord Mortimer laugh. With contempt she stalks past
him to the door.
SIMS
(taking papers from his
pocket and putting them
on the table)
Tomorrow after the Commission for
Lunacy examines her she will strike
no more blows not at you nor at
me.
He drips a pen.
SIMS
Here you sign here.
Lord Mortimer takes the pen reluctantly and holds it poised
over the paper.
MILORD
But confound me, Sims, I can't sign
this.