On the stage:
A piano.
Closed curtains.
Knick knacks.
One chaise.
A birdcage.
A pram/bassinette.
A rocking chair.
Sumptuous rugs, sumptuous wallpaper.
Many electrical lamps, and one particularly beautiful one, with green glass.
Next to the living room, a private doctor’s room, otherwise known as an operating theater.
The relationship between the living room and the operating theater is all important in the design, as things happen simultaneously in the living room and operating theater.
In the operating theater, a medical table covered with a sheet.
A basin for washing hands, just barely out of sight from the medical table.
Several vibrators.
And an outlet, to plug in electrical apparatus.
One exit, in the operating room, to an unseen room (the doctor’s private study) and one exit to the living room, which has an exit to an unseen nursery and to the outdoors.
One might consider, rather than recorded sound, using only the live piano if one of the actors is good at playing piano.
One might consider, rather than the usual lighting instruments, something ancient.
That is to say—in a play hovering at the dawn of electricity—how should the theater itself feel? Terribly technological or terribly primitive or neither—At any rate, let the use of technology feel like a choice.
Personages:
Dr. Givings, a man in his forties, a specialist in gynecological and hysterical disorders.
Catherine Givings, his wife, a woman in her late twenties.
Sabrina Daldry, his patient, a woman in her early thirties.
Annie, a woman in her late thirties, Dr. Giving’s midwife assitant.
Leo Irving, Dr. Giving’s other patient, a Englishman in his twenties or thirties.
Elizabeth, an African-American woman in her early thirties. A wet-nurse by default.
Mr. Daldry, Sabrina Daldry’s husband, a man in his forties or fifties.
* * *
Place
A prosperous spa town outside of New York City, perhaps Saratoga Springs
* * *
Time
The dawn of the age of electricity; and after the Civil War; circa 1880s
***
Acknowledgements
I am indebted to the book The Technology of Orgasm by Rachel P. Maines for inspiration. Big thanks to Luke Walden for putting me on to it. Another debt is due to AC/DC: The Savage Tale of the First Standards War, by Tom McHichol, for thoughts on electricity. Thanks to my husband for finding it for me. A final debt is due to A Social History of Wet Nursing. Astericks indicate quotations from primary historical sources. Things that seem impossibly strange in the play are all true—such as the Chattanooga Vibrator—and the vagaries of wet-nursing. Things that seem commonplace are all my own invention.
First Scene
Mrs. Givings turns on her electric lamp.
She shows it to her baby.
Meanwhile, in the operating theater,
Annie changes the sheets on the bed
and cleans medical equipment in the sink.
MRS. GIVINGS:
Look baby, it’s light! No candle, no rusty tool to snuff it out, but light, pure light, straight from man’s imagination into our living room.
On, off, on, off, on—
She turns it off and on.
Dr. Givings enters.
He walks through the space without saying hello to his wife.
She watches him. After he exits:
MRS. GIVINGS:
Hello.
Dr. Givings re-enters.
DR. GIVINGS:
Sorry. Hello, darling.
He exits again.
MRS. GIVINGS: (to the baby)
We‘ll find a nice nurse for you, won’t we? A nice wet nurse with lots of healthy milk. Your father put an advertisement in the paper and we’ll get lots of replies today. My milk is not filling you up, is it? Are you less fat today, darling? Are your cheeks less fat?
She is near tears. She recovers.
I’ll find you a nurse who hasn’t a child of her own. Not that I hope to find a nurse with a dead baby for that is tragic nothing is more tragic oh it hurts me here to think it—you in your pram not moving—but I suppose if I am to find a childless nurse with milk to spare, her baby must be dead, and recently dead, oh dear. I don’t like to think of that.
Dr. Givings enters again.
DR. GIVINGS:
I have a new patient who might ring the doorbell any second. If she arrives, would you please let Annie answer the door.
The doorbell rings.
DR. GIVINGS:
Her nerves are terribly raw and it might throw off the entire clinical balance for her to meet you and the baby.
The doorbell rings.
DR. GIVINGS:
Please hide.
(shouting to his midwife)
Annie!
Mrs. Givings hides behind a piano.
Dr. Givings runs out with the pram.
Annie answers the door.
ANNIE:
Hello, you must be Mr. and Mrs. Daldry, please come in.
Mr. and Mrs. Daldry enter.
Mrs. Daldry is fragile and ethereal.
Her face is covered by a veil attached to a hat.
She leans heavily on her husband’s arm.
ANNIE:
This way, let me show you to the operating theater—
Mrs. Daldry startles.
ANNIE:
Well let’s just call it the next room for now, shall we, don’t be nervous,
Mrs. Daldry.
Shall I just put your hat here?
Mrs. Daldry shakes her head.
MR. DALDRY:
She’s very sensitive to light.
ANNIE:
Of course. Right this way.
Annie turns off the electric lamp.
She leads them to the office.
Mrs. Daldry arrives in the operating theater. Dr. Givings enters from the living room.
DR. GIVINGS:
So nice to meet you, Mrs. Daldry, Mr. Daldry. Shall I take your coat?
Mrs. Daldry shakes her head.
MR. DALDRY:
She’s very sensitive to cold.
DR. GIVINGS:
I see. Well, have a seat. Sensitive to light, sensitive to cold—
A baby’s cry is heard.
MRS. DALDRY:
Oh, is there a baby here? I didn’t know there was a new baby. How wonderful for you.
DR. GIVINGS:
Yes. Could you shut the door please Annie?
She does so.
Then Annie sits invisibly in the corner, listening to the conversation.
Dr. Givings sits and takes out his note-pad, writing down notes.
Mrs. Givings, meanwhile, in the next room, has heard the baby cry.
She sneaks out and exits to the nursery.
DR. GIVINGS:
What other symptoms is your wife suffering from?
MR. DALDRY:
I find her weeping at odd moments during the day, muttering about green curtains or some such nonsense.
DR. GIVINGS:
Is it nonsense, Mrs. Daldry?
MRS. DALDRY:
I suppose it is. The green curtains give me terrible head-ache. The color. Old ghosts in the dark.
Mr. Daldry gives Dr. Givings a pointed look.
DR. GIVINGS:
Tell me more about the curtains, would you?
MRS. DALDRY:
The house where I grew up my mother would wash the curtains every week, she beat them with a stick, and there were no ghosts in them. There was a beautiful view of a grape arbor and when the curtains were cleaned you could see right through to the grapes, you could almost watch them growing, they got so plump in the autumn. My mother would make loads of jam—my mother was not a nervous or excitable woman. It was jam, it was laughing, and long walks out of doors. We haven’t a grape arbor here—I am full of digressions these days Dr. Givings—but the point is I haven’t the strength to wash the curtains every week and beat the ghosts out of them. You think I am talking like a madwoman but if you could see the curtains you would see that I really am very logical. They’re horrible.
Mr. Daldry raises his eyebrows at Dr. Givings.
DR. GIVINGS:
And you have tried the usual remedies, rest and relaxation?
MRS. DALDRY:
I do nothing but rest! Nothing but rest!
MR. DALDRY:
Yes.
MR. DALDRY:
When I met Mrs. Daldry she was seventeen. She was an extraordinary creature. She played the piano. We ate grape jam in the arbor and there I told her I wanted to take care of her and protect her forever, didn’t I.
MRS. DALDRY:
Yes.
MR. DALDRY:
Now I am afraid there is very little sympathy between us.
MRS. DALDRY:
I am breaking his heart—. He likes me to be a certain way. Perhaps if I could play the piano again but my fingers will not work.
MR. DALDRY:
No, her fingers do not work. In the living room. Or in any other room, if you take my meaning, Dr. Givings.
MRS. DALDRY:
Mr. Daldry please do not embarrass me with such vulgarities. I am shocked and disgusted and I will leave the room now.
She leaves the room.
She stands in the living room, flustered.
She sees the electrical lamp and turns it on and off.
DR. GIVINGS:
Mr. Daldry, your wife is suffering from hysteria. It is a very clear case. I recommend theraputic electrical massage—weekly—possibly daily, we shall see—sessions. We need to relieve the pressure of her nerves.
You will soon have your blooming wife back, she will regain her color, light and cold will no longer have the same effect on her. You will soon be eating grape jam and wondering how it is that Mrs. Daldry looks so much like a seventeen year old.
MR. DALDRY:
Thank you Dr. Givings. You have no idea what a source of anguish my wife’s illness has been to me. And to her, of course.
DR. GIVINGS:
Of course. I will have her back for you in an hour’s time.
MR. DALDRY:
Thank you, Doctor.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Givings has re-entered the living room with the baby.
MRS. DALDRY: (To Mrs. Givings)
This lamp is extraordinary.
It hurts my eyes to watch it go on and off but I enjoy the pain.
It is a kind of religious ecstasy to feel half blind, do you not think?
MRS. GIVINGS:
Yes, isn’t it?
I was not suppposed to meet you
But I’m glad I have.
I hope you find my husband to be a comfort, I know that I do.
MRS. DALDRY:
May I hold your baby?
MRS. GIVINGS:
Yes, of course.
DR. GIVINGS:
I would ask you to leave Mrs. Daldry here while you take a walk around the grounds. Perhaps it’s better if you don’t disturb her now, Mr. Daldry.
MR. DALDRY:
Of course. Whatever you think best, doctor.
MRS. DALDRY: (while holding the baby)
What is the baby’s name?
MRS. GIVINGS:
Letitia. Lotty for short.
Three syllables seemed like too many for a baby.
MRS. DALDRY:
Lotty.
During the preceding,
Dr. Givings shakes Mr. Daldry’s hand.
Mr. Daldry puts his hat on.
Mr. Daldry gives a brief quizzical glance at the vibrator.
And exits.
ANNIE: (in the living room, to Mrs. Daldry)
The doctor is ready for you now.
MRS. DALDRY:
Oh, no must I go back in there? I would rather hold the baby.
Mr. Daldry enters the living room.
MR. DALDRY:
Be a good girl.
Mrs. Daldry hands the baby back to Mrs. Givings.
MRS. DALDRY:
Oh, she’s beautiful.
MRS. GIVINGS:
Isn’t she? Too skinny though.
Mrs. Daldry hesitates, looking at the baby.
MR. DALDRY:
The doctor is waiting, Sabrina.
MRS. GIVINGS:
You’ll be just fine. My husband is a good doctor.
Or so I’ve been told.
If you’ll excuse me, it’s time for her nap.
Mrs. Givings exits to the nursery.
Annie leads Mrs. Daldry into the operating theater.
Mr. Daldry surveys the living room and prepares to walk the grounds.
In the operating theater:
DR. GIVINGS:
Now then, Mrs. Daldry, I would ask you to remove your clothing but you may keep your underthings on. Please remove your corset, if you would. Annie will place a sheet over your lower regions. We will respect your modesty in every particular.
Mrs. Daldry nods.
DR. GIVINGS:
I shall give you privacy.
He turns his back on them, a gentleman, as Mrs. Daldry undresses with Annie’s help.
Mrs. Givings has re-entered the living room without the baby.
She sees Mr. Daldry.
MRS. GIVINGS:
Hello again.
MR. DALDRY:
Hello. They are trying to get rid of me. I am supposed to walk about the grounds.
MRS. GIVINGS:
But is it not raining, Mr—?
MR. DALDRY:
Daldry.
I don’t know.
MRS. GIVINGS:
Your name?
MR. DALDRY:
No. If it is raining.
MRS. GIVINGS:
Then you will have to gamble on whether or not to take an umbrella.
MR. DALDRY:
Indeed.
Meanwhile, in the operating theater, Mrs. Daldry disrobes with Annie’s help.
It takes a while to disrobe as she wears a variety of layers.
In the living room, with Mr. Daldry and Mrs. Givings:
MRS. GIVINGS:
There are three kinds of people. Those who use umbrellas when it is not raining; those who do not use umbrellas even when it is raining; and those who use umbrellas only and precisely while it rains. Which kind are you, Mr. Daldry?
MR. DALDRY:
I use an umbrella while it is raining.
MRS. GIVINGS:
That’s too bad. I find people who do not use umbrellas while it is raining horribly romantic. Strolling, no striding, through the rain, with wet hair, looking at a drop of water on a branch.
MR. DALDRY:
My wife is one of those.
MRS. GIVINGS:
Oh yes! I could see that.
MR. DALDRY:
It’s damned annoying. I always worry she’ll catch cold.
MRS. GIVINGS:
But horribly romantic. My husband opens his umbrella at the merest hint of rain. And even if it does not rain, he will leave it open, stubborn as an ox, and keep walking. My husband is a scientist.
MR. DALDRY:
And what sort of person are you, Mrs. Givings?
MRS. GIVINGS:
Why, I don’t know. My husband has always held the umbrella. Isn’t that funny. I don’t know at all what kind of person I am.
In the other room, Mrs. Daldry’s clothes are now off to her under-clothes.
Annie drapes a sheet over her.
MRS. GIVINGS:
I‘ll show you the grounds and we can use this very large umbrella and perhaps I will hold it and we shall see what kind of person I am. I only hope you do not get wet.
MR. DALDRY:
It sounds like a madcap adventure.
Mrs. Givings and Mr. Daldry exit.
In the operating theater:
DR. GIVINGS:
Are you ready for me?
ANNIE:
Yes, Dr. Givings.
DR. GIVINGS:
Are you warm enough? (Mrs. Daldry nods.)
Mrs. Daldry, we are going to produce in you what is called a paroxysm. The congestion in your womb is causing your hysterical symptoms and if we can release some of that congestion and invite the juices downward your health will be restored.
Thanks to the dawn of electricity—yes, thank you Mr. Edison, I always tip my hat to Mr. Edison—a great American—I have a new instrument which I will use. It used to be that it would take me or it would take Annie—oh—hours—to produce a paroxysm in our patients and it demanded quite a lot of skill and patience. It was much like a child’s game—trying to pat the head and rub the stomach at the same time—but thanks to this new electricial instrument we shall be done in a matter of minutes.
MRS. DALDRY:
I—I’m afraid I don’t—
DR. GIVINGS:
Three minutes, sometimes five at the outer limits. Are you ready Mrs. Daldry?
She nods.
He takes out a huge vibrator.
He plugs it in.
He turns it on.
MRS. DALDRY:
I am frightened.
DR. GIVINGS:
Don’t be frightened.
MRS. DALDRY:
There is no danger of being electrocuted?
DR. GIVINGS:
None at all.
He puts his arm under the sheets and holds the vibrator to her private parts.
DR. GIVINGS:
I will tell you an amusing story. Dr. Benjamin Franklin once decided to electrocute a bird for his turkey dinner on Christmas eve. But, by mistake, he held onto the chain, completing the circuit, and couldn’t let go. He described violently convulsing until he was able by sheer force of will to let go of the chain. He was perfectly fine! Do you feel calmer?
MRS. DALDRY:
A little.
DR. GIVINGS:
This will just take a matter of minutes.
Mrs. Daldry moans quietly.
DR. GIVINGS:
It’s all right, Mrs. Daldry. That’s just fine.
Mrs. Daldry moans quietly.
DR. GIVINGS:
Annie will hold your hand.
Annie holds her hand.
MRS. DALDRY:
Oh, God in His heaven!
She has a quiet paroxysm.
Now remember that these are the days
before digital pornography.
There is no cliché of how women are supposed to orgasm,
no idea in their heads of how they are supposed to sound when they climax.
Mrs. Daldry’s first orgasms could be very quiet,
organic, awkward, primal. Or very clinical. Or embarassingly natural.
But whatever it is, it should not be a cliché, a camp version
of how we expect all women sound when they orgasm.
It is simply clear that she has had some kind of release.
DR. GIVINGS:
That was very good, Mrs. Daldry. Is not this new instrument wonderful? Thank goodness for Benjamin Franklin and his electrical key! (He waves the vibrator heavenwards.) Did you know they electrocuted an elephant in Coney Island last week? Marvelous. Annie will help you get dressed and you may meet Mr. Daldry on the grounds.
MRS. DALDRY:
All right. And perhaps I may hold your baby again before I leave.
DR. GIVINGS:
Ah, I did not realize you had met the baby. I hope that was not distracting in the middle of our session.
MRS. DALDRY:
No—I liked holding her. We have not been able—
She weeps.
ANNIE:
Oh, there, there.
MRS. DALDRY:
—to have children. I do not know what is wrong with me.
DR. GIVINGS:
Oh, dear Mrs. Daldry. Take heart. You see, Annie, it is the pent up emotion inside the womb that causes her hysterical symptoms, you can see it quite clearly. I will administer another round of therapy to the patient. Lie back down, Mrs. Daldry.
He plugs the vibrator in again.
MRS. DALDRY:
No, please no, do not touch me there again, it is very painful—no, please no—(he places the vibrator to her private parts) oh—
DR. GIVINGS:
What are you feeling, Mrs. Daldry?
MRS. DALDRY:
My feet are very hot—dancing on hot coals—and down—down there—cold and hot to the touch—my heart is racing—
She has a quiet paroxysm.
DR. GIVINGS:
That’s all right, Mrs. Daldry, there there. You just lie there and stay quiet for a while. I am going to go wash my hands.
He moves to the wash basin.
She sits up.
MRS. DALDRY: (to Annie)
Can you please hand me my hat.
ANNIE:
Of course. You don’t need to be ashamed. This instrument has quite the same effect on all of our patients. Sometimes they laugh and weep all at the same time. They often call for God.
Mrs. Daldry stands wearing her hat and her sheet wrapped around her. Her sheet falls off as she puts on her hat and she is left only wearing her bloomers and her veil.
MRS. DALDRY:
Oh dear.
ANNIE:
It is quite all right Mrs. Daldry.
Annie puts the sheet back on her.
MRS. DALDRY:
I am suddenly drowsy.
ANNIE:
Yes, most of our patients become drowsy after the treatment.
MRS. DALDRY:
Might I lie down again?
ANNIE:
Please do.
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