54, Rue Lepic-A Love Story: A Play

By Mary L. Sprouse

The setting is a Paris apartment at 54, rue Lepic, 1891. Johanna van Gogh-Bonger is the widow of Vincent van Gogh's brother, Theo. She blames Vincent, whose suicide just six months before her husband died, led to Theo's physical and mental breakdown. Left alone to raise an infant son, Johanna's only inheritance are hundreds of Vincent's painting

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary L. Sprouse
• Release date: Oct 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9780971306042

Mary L. Sprouse

Mary L. Sprouse is a playwright and lyricist. Her plays include "Who Killed Annabel Lee," "54, rue Lepic," and "Apocalyse, Pacific Daylight Time." Her lyric videos can be found on her YouTube channel, Light Me Up Music.She is also an attorney and the author of six published books on taxes and personal finance, including "The MONEY Income Tax Handbook" (Time Warner), "Sprouse's Two-Earner Money Book" (Viking Penguin), "Financial First Aid" (John Wiley & Sons), and "If Time is Money, No Wonder I'm Not Rich" (Simon & Schuster). She was Tax Editor of "MONEY" magazine for seven years. She has appeared on numerous U.S. television and radio programs, including three appearances on Good Morning, America, in addition to the Today Show, NBC's A Closer Look, and CBS Nightwatch She has also been interviewed or received publicity from The New York Times, Business Week, MONEY. People, Vogue, Ladies Home Journal, The Washington Post, The Los Angeles Times, and many others.

Book preview

ACT I

SCENE 1

A selection from Claude Debussy’s Danse bohemienne begins before the curtain rises and continues briefly after.

The living room in an apartment in the Cité Pigalle, Paris, May 1890. A painting by Vincent van Gogh, Flowering Almond Branch, sits on the mantelpiece. Piled, stacked, or hanging everywhere are paintings and canvases, framed and unframed. From those that can be seen, we realize immediately that these are not ordinary pictures and drawings. They are all van Goghs. They lean against the walls or are stacked under the table and other furniture, so that there is barely room to move. Two easels, set at angles so they slightly face each other, are in the foreground, facing the settee, but visible to the audience. On one of these easels is Wheat Field With Reaper and Sun. The other stands empty. The canvases take up so much space that the room is sparsely furnished -- a settee, a rocking chair, a small desk, and a stove. A cradle sits on the floor beside the settee, stage left.

On stage are a married couple, THEODORE VAN GOGH and his wife, JOHANNA VAN GOGH. THEO is a delicate and dapper 33-year-old, wearing stylish businessman’s attire. He has reddish hair and a neatly trimmed mustache. He is rifling through the stacks of paintings. JOHANNA, 28, has a youthful, innocent, good-natured face. She wears a high-collared dress and her dark hair is pulled severely back. She is energetically housecleaning.

JOHANNA

Theo, stop fussing with those paintings. Vincent will be here any minute.

THEO

(Whistling.)

I have to choose the perfect canvas to display. And Vincent’s not going to bite you if that corner is dusty.

JOHANNA

Who knows what your brother will do.

THEO’s whistling turns into a cough.

THEO

I told you, Vincent is his old self again — gruff, direct to the point of rudeness, as welcome as a wet dog.

THEO laughs, then begins coughing again.

JOHANNA

You scare me half to death. How am I to prepare for such a house guest?

THEO

Don’t be such a conscientious Dutch housewife. You are living in Paris now.

JOHANNA

You wouldn’t want a fine and fancy French lady.

THEO

You are right about that, Johanna van Gogh-Bonger.

(Going over and tossing

the broom aside and hugging her.)

It was a lucky day when Andries brought you to the gallery.

JOHANNA

Lucky you could even see me surrounded by all those artworks of genius you sell. I was like a daub of mouse-colored oil paint next to them.

(Pushing him playfully.)

Now leave me to my work. Vincent will be expecting a home as spotless as your Mother’s.

THEO

Stop! You’ll take the paint off the walls. And whatever you do, leave Vincent’s paintings alone. You can’t clean a masterpiece.

(Picking up two of Vincent’s paintings.)

Which will please Vincent the most?

JOHANNA

Why ask me? Don’t you know everything that goes on inside your brother’s head? It’s spooky, you are so much like one person.

THEO

(Lightly.)

Nonsense. I am four years younger, spare everyone’s feelings, never tell anyone exactly what I think of them, and politely agree with the most staggering fools. Besides, I am much better looking.

JOHANNA

I will be the judge of that. What time is it? Not two o’clock! Choose one of those quickly.

(Theo holds up one picture,

then the other, begging her to decide.)

The sunflowers. No, the mulberry tree.

THEO puts the painting The Mulberry Tree on the empty easel.

THEO

(Listening.)

Do you hear that?

JOHANNA looks puzzled.

THEO

A waltz.

THEO begins to hum Schubert’s Waltz in B Minor. He reaches out and gently captures JOHANNA’s waist. He begins dancing, slowly twirling JOHANNA round and round, her feather duster upright in her hand like a bouquet.

THEO

Do you know how insanely happy you make me?

JOHANNA

Nonsense. You are insanely happy because Vincent is coming.

THEO

Yes! I thought Dr. Peyron would never release him from the asylum. Oh, Jo, you are so going to like him!

THEO stops dancing to catch his breath. He coughs.

JOHANNA

(Hiding her concern.)

Enough foolishness. With so much work to do, too.

JOHANNA vigorously resumes housecleaning. THEO stops her.

THEO

(Chuckling.)

You are in constant motion. I want to read you part of Vincent’s daily letter.

THEO pulls an envelope out of his pocket and removes the letter.

JOHANNA

(Amused.)

What news couldn’t wait until today?

THEO

You know his mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, and he has no one to confide in.

(Skimming the text.)

Here it is. You will enjoy this.

(Reading.)

Oh, my dear Theo, if you could see the olive groves right now. They are old silver, sometimes nearer blue, sometimes greenish, bronzed, whitening over a soil which is yellow, rose, violet-tinted, or orange to dull ochre.

JOHANNA

How he paints with words!

THEO nods, returning the letter and envelope to his pocket.

THEO

His letters rival his art.

THEO pulls out his pocket watch.

JOHANNA

He could arrive from the station any minute.

THEO

With Vincent, who knows. He could be sidetracked by his old buddies at the Moulin des Galettes.

JOHANNA

Not drinking? At this time of day!

THEO

Of course. You must accept it, love. Vincent will do whatever he pleases. For him, there are no laws, no seasons, no day or night. And he does not care what anyone thinks of him.

JOHANNA

He must care what you think, Theo. After all you have done for him.

THEO

Maybe he does care. But that is powerless to stop him.

JOHANNA

From what you say, he seems