by Tom Murphy
And she goes to the tree to draw from the hollow an imaginary bottle – or the empty one. She drinks from it, and:
Aaaaaa! (And again, and:) Aaaaaa!
The moon is in and out of the clouds and shadows appear to move. Agnes, a substantial fairy, dances in and out of the pools of light and talks to ‘people’.
When we are married, will you come and visit? We shall live but a little way away. In the valley, my dear. (To another pool of light. She appears to be pouring tea.) This is special. For when I lived in the big house there was a blend that Mrs Kilcullen liked: not to my stomach. No, taste this. Dock tea. What did I tell you? From your own back yard, made from the seeds of the dock.
She thinks she hears something, and she is poised to run if needs be. She forgets it.
We shall live down the valley
In a house all painted red –
Again, she thinks she hears something. And forgets it.
And every day the birds will come
To pick the crumbs of bread.
Indeed, she has heard something, because two crouched Figures, using the shadows for cover, are entering stealthily . . . One Figure now is whispering:
Figure Hist! Do not make a sound . . . Be ready to spring if she tries to escape . . . Hist! Cut her off!
The last because Agnes is now darting this way and that, to escape. The Figures are Rencelaw and William. We establish who they are at whatever point. They have cut off Agnes’s escape. She is frightened, but a kind of delighted terror, too, is growing in her. She begins to tremble, half-laughing, half-crying, half-defiant; indeed provocatively.
Agnes Kisses they are plenty as the blossoms on a tree!
Rencelaw (whispering) Miss Agnes . . . Miss Agnes . . . I am a friend to the unfortunate . . . Hist! Cut her off !
Agnes (has darted again; stopped) Kisses they are plenty as the blossoms on a tree!
Rencelaw We may yet need the net, William . . . Miss Agnes, it is I, Sir Arden Rencelaw.
Agnes (darts again, stops, and) Oh, kisses they are plenty!
William (tearfully) Oh, Sir, be you sure that you know what you’re doing with my sister?
They are closing in on Agnes; all three, dipping, swaying, lunging, as in a kind of dance.
Rencelaw (singing quietly) ‘Oh kisses they are plenty’ – I am taking her back to the big city, honest William, and putting her into care – ‘Oh kisses they are plenty as the – ’ to have her malady treated. Don’tcha know. And you shall accompany us – Hist! Cut her off!
Agnes (darted again, stopped again) ‘Kisses they are plenty as the blossoms on the tree!’
Rencelaw And I suspect she is the key to much that is awry in these parts. Sing, William!
Rencelaw and William sing the following as they close in on Agnes.
Oh kisses they are plenty
As the blossoms on a tree.
And they be one and twenty
And are sweet to you and me;
And some are for the forehead,
And some are for the lips,
And some are for the rosy cheeks,
And some for fingertips;
And some are for the dimples,
But the sweetest one is this –
Agnes
When the bonny, bonny sweetheart
Gives his lady bride a kiss.
During the above, Rencelaw, magically – as only he can – has produced a stream of long, coloured ribbons, which – with William’s assistance – is cast over/draped upon Agnes, calming the trembling creature. She is tearful, but smiles at them, and she walks off with them, her pages, like a bride.
Music.
In the transition, Edward and McGinty appear. Edward first, backing away from McGinty, pointing at him with the rolled-up document (deeds to the cottage), laughing.
Edward Aaaaaaaa . . . !
Both are drunk. McGinty, indeed, who is following, is drunk to the point of being on his hands and knees, his hand reaching out to the document.
McGinty Let me touch it . . . Let me hold it . . . Let me feel it . . .
Edward But look you!
He unrolls the document, shows it to McGinty.
McGinty I’ll give you, I’ll give you . . . What did I last offer you?
Edward But look! Two names on it, two signatures: my name and my wife’s name.
McGinty Nife’s wame? Nife’s wame?
Edward You are, Maginty, killarneyed! Blind drunk! (And exits.) ‘I’ve been drinking, I’ve been drinking where were wine and brandy good . . . ’
McGinty Nife’s wame? . . . Wife’s name! (Thinks about it.And holds up his finger: he has the solution.) I’ll have that cottage. I’ll have everything the Kilcullens ever owned. Why? It suits me – pleases – to brood upon it now.
Old Patrick-Joseph-Paddy-Joe, ever a man for counting his possessions and his beads, tracked me one day, feather by feather, to a chicken I had plucked from his yard. I was a boy of ten, and barefoot. He gave me personal pardon, soundly, with his whip, which I accepted and expected – which gratified me! For had he chosen to yield me to the authorities – minor though the offence – it would have meant imprisonment for someone of my station. But when he then informed me that he pitied me? In that moment I discovered myself. That he despised me thereafter is of no issue. From that moment I hated with an intensity – ha, ha, ha! – that has existed beyond the grave, descending unimpaired to his expensively educated ‘clever’ son. By cunning – of which I have in plenty! Is it not superior to hypocrisy? –I wormed back into favour – each wriggle nurturing within the spite I harboured – until I became necessary to him, indispensable – he all the while despising me – Ha, ha, ha, ha! What triumph then when in his dying hours his papers were delivered to my hands, what sweet revenge – and opportunity! I prepared a new will and, to sign it, I engaged a master forger, my brother, who then emigrated; but lest he should return to blackmail me, I dared not destroy the real will but cached it in a secret place.
I’ll have that cottage. And I take this pledge: never again shall a drop of alcoholic liquor pass Phelim McGinty’s lips until his mission is accomplished.
Scene Six
Interior, cottage. An oil lamp burns. A want of comfort now. Alanna will enter in a moment. She is a child.
Arabella Heaven, weigh not this poor creature down with woes beyond her strength to bear. Much I fear my suffering mother never can survive this night, and Edward comes not. And when he does arrive, how will he be? Oh misery! This agony of suspense. Heaven, aid this wife who is now six years a mother.
Enter Alanna.
Alanna Dearest Mother, do not cry.
Arabella Forgive me, dear Alanna, but I sometimes cannot help it.
Alanna I feel so sorry when you cry.
Arabella There now: I am composed again.
Alanna But when you cry it makes me want to cry too.
Arabella My angel child! It is unjust of your mother to indulge her feelings. Have you eaten up your supper?
Alanna (nods, then) I cry too each night when Father comes home late.
Arabella When he arrives, smile, kiss him and then be very, very quiet.
Alanna (nods, then) But when I kiss him, Mother, his face is hot as fire or cold as ice.
Arabella (‘Hush’) – Is that a step?
Alanna And why is he so pale, Mother?
Arabella (to herself; her voice is trembling) I do not know.
Alanna Mother, is he very ill?
Arabella, to conceal her emotion, turns her back, shakes her head.
Alanna What makes him so very ill, Mother?
Arabella He is perhaps unhappy with me.
She is weeping, goes to the ‘window’ to conceal it.
Alanna Dear Grandmama too. Will she die tonight, Mother? Mother, will she die tonight?
Arabella Father of Mercies – Be quiet, Alanna! Hush, my sweet innocence. I go to look in on her again. (As she exits.) Oh, religion!
Alanna Poor Mother: the colour dr
ains from her face and her lips quiver. Oh religion, sweet solace, support this family in these horrible, horrible trials.
A knock at the door.
Enter!
William comes in. He is dressed for travelling and has his belongings in a roll.
William Alanna, darling! You’re huge! You are! A foot taller and a power comelier every time I see you – huge!
Alanna Mr Earley!
William Be your father not at home yet?
She shakes her head.
And your mam?
Alanna puts a finger to her lips and points.
William A-sittin’ with the grandma. How is the poor creature?
Alanna The nurse was here and shook her head, Father Harty held her hand and prayed in Latin.
William Latin: The game is up then. She’s kitted to take off.
Arabella comes in.
Arabella William!
William Ma’am!
Arabella Have you seen Edward?
William Why, I saw him earlier outside the – in the village and he bade me to precede him – and that no one was to fret, mind! – and I’m sure he’ll soon be here sure.
Arabella Ever a good and loyal friend, William. Alanna, sit with your grandma.
Alanna Yes, Mother. (Exit.)
Arabella Was he . . . ? How to frame my question. Is he sober?
William Oh! He . . .
Arabella William?
William Then I mustn’t tell a lie, Ma’am. He’d been taking – some – intoxicating liquor: I’d have to say that: I would. But, then, maybe not that much maybe: and maybe all’ll maybe’ll be well.
Arabella Oh, heavens, if something could restore him to his former self. But you are all dressed up!
William (proud of himself) And somewhere to go!
Arabella Oh?
Alanna comes in for the Bible and stays to register the reference to Rencelaw before going out again.
William I’m off to the big city in the post chaise tonight with my little half-crazed sister Agnes. See what might be done about her malady. Sir Arden Rencelaw himself –
Arabella Oh! –
William Yes! – has took an interest and is gone before us on his steed.
Arabella The world famous philanthropist!
William Friend to the unfortunate!
Arabella That great, good man!
William Sure, he played the penny whistle at your wedding sure!
Arabella I have done a likeness of him which hangs over our bed.
William Whist!
Edward (without) ‘Wine cures the gout and whiskey makes you sing . . . ’
Arabella ’Tis Edward!
Edward (without) ‘Stout makes you fat, but – ’ Ow! Ow!
Arabella He has fallen!
William ’Tis Edward right enough.
Edward ‘But good brandy makes you king!’ (Entering.)
Arabella Edward!
Edward Who else should it be?
William Ho, Ned!
Edward Oh! You have company. Why, each time that I come home, is there a man here?
Arabella He has come to –
Edward So, it’s stableboys now!
Arabella Edward! –
Edward What is your purpose in having a servant here at this hour?
Arabella Servant? – He is our friend
Edward Out of my house! –
Arabella Edward! – Our last loyal friend!
Edward Your friend, not my friend, I have no friends!
Arabella He has come to say goodbye.
Edward Goodbye, farewell, good riddance!
Arabella (whispers) Go, William.
William He’s not himself, Ma’am. When he sleeps it off –
Edward Still here! And whispering together? Leave, before I knock you down, Sir!
William I’m going, Ned – I just called to –
Edward Out of my house –
William Farewell, friend –
Edward Out of my house –
William Fare you well. (Exit.)
Edward Farewell! (Muttering.) Farewell.
Arabella Sit, my dear.
Edward Do you have to tell me?
Arabella Hush! Where were you?
Edward Questions?!
Arabella It’s twenty-four hours since you crossed that threshold.
Edward Why remind me? ‘I’ve been drinking, I’ve been drinking where were wine and brandy good – ’
Arabella I’ll fetch your supper – (Moving to go out.)
Edward ‘And I’m thinking and I’m thinking how to get out of the wood!’
Arabella Oh hush, dearest, hush, oh hush –
Edward Am I a child that I should remain silent in my own house?!
Arabella Edward, Mother is –
Edward This house that I could have sold tonight but for – Never mind! I sacrifice myself for everyone!
Arabella (to herself) I must restrain myself. Our house, dear. Your daughter’s house, yours and mine.
Alanna (entering, coming to kiss him) Father! Dear Father –
Edward Keep off! I’m hot enough as it is. (Muttering.) This is what I come home to – ‘Where were you?’ ‘Hush, dearest.’ Five, six years now I have borne these questions and complaints, endured food that you would not –
Arabella You have borne, you have endured!
Edward What’s this?!
Arabella (to herself) I cannot restrain myself.
Edward What say you – woman?!
Arabella Alanna, sit again with Grandmama.
Alanna (whispers) His face is cut, Mother. (And exit.)
Arabella You have borne, you have endured? And what have we borne and endured?
Edward Insurrection!
Arabella Without murmur! Maybe I, and others, were not nursed in the lap of luxury and so cannot mourn the comforts of ancestral halls, but have I not seen this once-warm home stripped and discomfited to a shell? Are we so unlike you – do we have no feelings – that we bear, endure, sacrifice, suffer nothing? Have we not had to watch you, day by day, sink to the footing of an outcast? Everywhere but here. Have we not been in receipt of your broken temper? Have I not seen your intelligence – everything about you! – coarsened and obscured by that infatuation of yours that my heart sickens to think upon, that my lips refuse to name?
Edward Ho – ho! Well – Madam – granted that you have all this – martyrdom – you have still the satisfaction of your sex – to talk about it.
Arabella It pleases you, too, to cheaply wound with glibness.
Edward Well then, if I be sunk so low and grown so hideous, pray, do not longer violate the delicacy of your feelings, but . . . (He indicates the door.)
Arabella Leave you. (To herself.)
Edward And take with you your darling daughter.
Arabella (to herself) How easy. No. Though you have brought us to this, though you have banished relations and every last friend from our home, though you draw the contempt of the world upon your head, though you are a mark for the good to grieve at, the vain to scoff, though abuse be levelled at you – and at us – you are still my daughter’s father and my husband; though, in you, those designations – father and husband, both are now coupled with the opprobrious, scurrilous and shameful epithet of . . .
Edward Complete your sentences. Of? . . . (Shouts.) I – am – not – a – drunkard! It pleases you to punish with imputation my sensitivity. I – am– not – a – drunkard! It pleases you to impugn, with vices I do not possess, this unlucky character. Why? Because – Madam! – behind your persecution, the vice that you so carefully avoid to mention is my lack of means, which deprives you of the life of sloth that you would lead, which deprives you of the silks, feathers and frippery that your vanity craves!
Arabella (to herself) My vanity.
Edward Hah! I have hit it.
Arabella Do you believe, Sir, that only vanity has hunger, that only empty pride of dress has appetite? Are these the only wants and cravings? Know
you how the food for your supper was procured? How – was – it – procured? By what magic came it here? How did I come by the money?
Edward (dark, threatening; suspicion, jealousy) By what means? How was it procured?
Arabella For ’tis long since I received financial help from you.
Edward How? – Tell me! – Speak! How came you by the money? Satisfy me or, by heaven and by hell’s damnation, you shall know all about it from me! (His fist is raised.)
Arabella (holds out her hand) You do not even notice its absence. Your ring. Your ring bought your supper. Your ring provided you with the money you so artfully took from the box before leaving here yesterday. The ring that was fixed upon my finger by a gentle, loving, honourable, young man called Edward, was wrested from its holy place to buy a little food and to purchase intoxication for a degraded, selfish drunkard. (She is weeping.)
He backs away, aghast. She continues to weep. The following is very gentle, in whispers, or little more than whispers.
Edward Bella.
Arabella Dearest?
Edward Arabella.
Arabella Dearest?
Edward All reveals your constancy, my disgrace.
Arabella No. No.
Edward No. No.
Arabella Dearest, dearest, do not think that.
Edward No. No.
Arabella Forgive me for speaking thus.
Edward No. No.
Arabella Besides, all is past now.
Edward No. No. I must leave.
Arabella No, Edward, my adored.
Edward No.
Alanna is entering.
Arabella I’ll do anything – I shall enlist aid from somewhere. There must be – someone – to whom we can apply for help!
Edward I must leave for ever.
Arabella No –
Alanna Father –
Arabella My husband!
Edward Father, husband? (He shakes his head, ‘No.’) Curse me as your destroyer.
Arabella I shall follow wherever you go!
Edward Forget this unfortunate man who never will forget you! (He rushes out.)
Alanna (running out) Father!
Arabella (follows) Edward!
Alanna Faather!
Arabella Edwaard!
Alanna Faaather!
Arabella Edwaaard!
Their voices continue, off, growing more distant and becoming distorted by the howling wind that has risen and that continues to the end of the scene.
The stage is empty. A breeze is catching the flame in the oil lamp, which, in turn, is casting shadows about the room; a nimbus appears to be forming round a shadow, creating – could it be? – the figure of an old man. And the ancient Mother, in shroud/nightdress, is now entering, her arms reaching out to the haloed, ghostly thing: