Brian Friel Plays 2

by Brian Friel

  Gerry Bluffer? (to Agnes as she passes) Did you hear what she called me? That’s unfair, Agnes, isn’t it?

  Agnes smiles and shrugs.

  Let’s take the back off and see what’s what.

  Rose enters the garden from the back of the house. At first nobody notices her. She is dressed as in Act 1. In her right hand she holds the dead rooster by the feet. Its feathers are ruffled and it is stained with blood. Rose is calm, almost matter-of-fact. Agnes sees her first and goes to her. Chris and Gerry join the others in the garden.

  Agnes Rosie, what is it, Rosie?

  Rose My rooster’s dead.

  Agnes Oh, Rosie …

  Rose (holding the dead bird up) Look at him. He’s dead.

  Agnes What happened to him?

  Rose The fox must have got him.

  Agnes Oh, poor Rosie …

  Rose Maggie warned me the fox was about again. (to all) That’s the end of my pet rooster. The fox must have got him. You were right, Maggie. (She places it carefully on the tablecloth in the middle of the garden.)

  Maggie Did he get at the hens?

  Rose I don’t think so.

  Maggie Was the door left open?

  Rose They’re all right. They’re safe.

  Maggie That itself.

  Agnes We’ll get another white rooster for you, Rosie.

  Rose Doesn’t matter.

  Maggie And I’ll put manners on him early on.

  Rose I don’t want another.

  Maggie (quick hug) Poor old Rosie. (as she moves away) We can hardly expect him to lay for us now …

  Chris Where’s that Michael fellow got to? Michael! He hears me rightly, you know. I’m sure he’s jouking about out there somewhere, watching us. Michael!

  Rose sits on the garden seat.

  Maggie All right, girls, what’s missing? Knives, forks, plates … (She sees Jack coming through the kitchen.) Jesus, Mary and Joseph!

  Jack is wearing a very soiled, very crumpled white uniform – a version of the uniform we saw him in at the very beginning of the play. One of the epaulettes is hanging by a thread and the gold buttons are tarnished. The uniform is so large that it looks as if it were made for a much larger man: his hands are lost in the sleeves and the trousers trail on the ground. On his head he wears a tricorn, ceremonial hat; once white like the uniform but now grubby, the plumage broken and tatty. He carries himself in military style, his army cane under his arm.

  Jack Gerry, my friend, where are you?

  Gerry Out here, Jack.

  Jack There you are. (to all) I put on my ceremonial clothes for the formal exchange. There was a time when it fitted me – believe it or not. Wonderful uniform, isn’t it?

  Gerry Unbelievable. I could do with that for Spain.

  Jack It was my uniform when I was chaplain to the British army during the Great War.

  Kate We know only too well what it is, Jack.

  Jack Isn’t it splendid? Well, it was splendid. Needs a bit of a clean up. Okawa’s always dressing up in it. I really must give it to him to keep.

  Kate It’s not at all suitable for this climate, Jack.

  Jack You’re right, Kate. Just for the ceremony – then I’ll change back. Now, if I were at home, what we do when we swap or barter is this. I place my possession on the ground –

  He and Gerry enact this ritual.

  Go ahead, (of hat) Put it on the grass – anywhere – just at your feet. Now take three steps away from it – yes? – a symbolic distancing of yourself from what you once possessed. Good. Now turn round once – like this – yes, a complete circle – and that’s the formal rejection of what you once had – you no longer lay claim to it. Now I cross over to where you stand – right? And you come over to the position I have left. So. Excellent. The exchange is now formally and irrevocably complete. This is my straw hat. And that is your tricorn hat. Put it on. Splendid! And it suits you! Doesn’t it suit him?

  Chris His head’s too big.

  Gerry (adjusting hat) What about that? (to Agnes) Is that better, Agnes?

  Agnes You’re lovely.

  Gerry does a Charlie Chaplin walk across the garden, his feet spread, his cane twirling. As he does he sings:

  Gerry

  ‘In olden times a glimpse of stocking

  Was looked on as something shocking …’

  Jack (adjusting his hat) And what about this? Or like this? Or further back on my head?

  Maggie Would you look at them! Strutting about like a pair of peacocks! Now – teatime!

  Agnes I’ll make the tea.

  Maggie You can start again tomorrow. Let me finish off Lughnasa. Chrissie, put on Marconi.

  Chris I think it’s broken again.

  Agnes Gerry fixed it. Didn’t you?

  Gerry Then Chrissie got at it again.

  Chris Possessed that thing, if you ask me.

  Kate I wish you wouldn’t use words like that, Christina. There’s still great heat in that sun.

  Maggie Great harvest weather.

  Kate I love September.

  Maggie (not moving) Cooking time, girls.

  Kate Wait a while, Maggie. Enjoy the bit of heat that’s left.

  Agnes moves beside Rose.

  Agnes Next Sunday, then. Is that all right?

  Rose What’s next Sunday?

  Agnes We’ll get some more bilberries.

  Rose Yes. Yes. Whatever you say, Aggie.

  Gerry examines the kites.

  Gerry Not bad for a kid of seven. Very neatly made.

  Kate Look at the artwork.

  Gerry Wow-wow-wow-wow! That is unbelievable!

  Kate I keep telling his mother – she has a very talented son.

  Chris So there, Mr Evans.

  Gerry Have you all seen these?

  Maggie I hate them.

  Gerry I think they’re just wonderful. Look, Jack.

  For the first time we all see the images. On each kite is painted a crude, cruel, grinning face, primitively drawn, garishly painted.

  I’ll tell you something: this boy isn’t going to end up selling gramophones.

  Chris Michael! He always vanishes when there’s work to be done.

  Maggie I’ve a riddle for you. Why is a gramophone like a parrot?

  Kate Maggie!

  Maggie Because it … because it always … because a parrot … God, I’ve forgotten!

  Maggie moves into the kitchen. Michael enters. The characters are now in positions similar to their positions at the beginning of the play – with some changes. Agnes and Gerry are on the garden seat. Jack stands stiffly to attention at Agnes’s elbow. One kite, facing boldly out front, stands between Gerry and Agnes; the other between Agnes and Jack. Rose is upstage left. Maggie is at the kitchen window. Kate is downstage right. Chris is at the front door. During Michael’s speech Kate cries quietly. As Michael begins to speak the stage is lit in a very soft, golden light so that the tableau we see is almost, but not quite, in a haze.

  Michael As I said, Father Jack was dead within twelve months. And with him and Agnes and Rose all gone, the heart seemed to go out of the house.

  Maggie took on the tasks Rose and Agnes had done and pretended to believe that nothing had changed. My mother spent the rest of her life in the knitting factory – and hated every day of it. And after a few years doing nothing Kate got the job of tutoring the young family of Austin Morgan of the Arcade. But much of the spirit and fun had gone out of their lives; and when my time came to go away, in the selfish way of young men I was happy to escape.

  Now fade in very softly, just audible, the music – ‘It is Time to Say Goodnight’ (not from the radio speaker).

  And as Michael continues, everybody sways very slightly from side to side – even the grinning kites. The movement is so minimal that we cannot be quite certain if it is happening or if we imagine it.

  And so, when I cast my mind back to that summer of 1936, different kinds of memories offer themselves to me.

  But there is one
memory of that Lughnasa time that visits me most often; and what fascinates me about that memory is that it owes nothing to fact. In that memory atmosphere is more real than incident and everything is simultaneously actual and illusory. In that memory, too, the air is nostalgic with the music of the thirties. It drifts in from somewhere far away – a mirage of sound – a dream music that is both heard and imagined; that seems to be both itself and its own echo; a sound so alluring and so mesmeric that the afternoon is bewitched, maybe haunted, by it. And what is so strange about that memory is that everybody seems to be floating on those sweet sounds, moving rhythmically, languorously, in complete isolation; responding more to the mood of the music than to its beat. When I remember it, I think of it as dancing. Dancing with eyes half closed because to open them would break the spell. Dancing as if language had surrendered to movement – as if this ritual, this wordless ceremony, was now the way to speak, to whisper private and sacred things, to be in touch with some otherness. Dancing as if the very heart of life and all its hopes might be found in those assuaging notes and those hushed rhythms and in those silent and hypnotic movements. Dancing as if language no longer existed because words were no longer necessary …

  Slowly bring up the music. Slowly bring down the lights.

  FATHERS AND SONS

  for Tom and Julie

  Characters

  Arkady Nikolayevich Kirsanov, twenty-two, student

  Yevgeny Vassilyich Bazarov, twenty-two, student

  Nikolai Petrovich Kirsanov, forty-four, Arkady’s father; estate owner

  Pavel Petrovich Kirsanov, forty-five, Arkady’s uncle; retired guardsman

  Vassily Ivanyich Bazarov, sixties, Bazarov’s father; retired army doctor

  Arina Vlassyevna Bazarov, fifties, Bazarov’s mother

  Fenichka Fedosya Nikolayevna, twenty-three, Nikolai’s mistress

  Anna Sergeyevna Odintsov, twenty-nine, estate owner; widow

  Katya Sergeyevna, eighteen, Anna’s sister

  Princess Olga, seventies, Anna’s aunt

  Dunyasha, twenties, servant in Kirsanov home

  Prokofyich, sixties, servant in Kirsanov home

  Piotr, nineteen, servant in Kirsanov home

  Timofeich, sixties, servant in Bazarov home

  Fedka, sixteen, servant in Bazarov home

  Music:

  Act One: Scene One – Beethoven’s Romance (for violin and orchestra) in F-major, Op. 50; Scene Two – Piano duets. In marching, military style.

  Act Two: Scene One – Beethoven’s Romance in G-major, Op. 40; Scene Two – As in Act One, Scene One; Scene Three – Te Deum Laudamus; Scene Four – ‘Drink to me only’ (vocal and piano); ‘Drink to me only’ (played on piano-accordion).

  Fathers and Sons opened at the Lyttelton Theatre, South Bank, London, on 8 July 1987. The cast was as follows:

  Arkady Nikolayevich Kirsanov Ralph Fiennes

  Yevgeny Vassilyich Bazarov Robert Glenister

  Nikolai Petrovich Kirsanov Alec McCowen

  Pavel Petrovich Kirsanov Richard Pasco

  Vassily Ivanyich Bazarov Robin Bailey

  Arina Vlassyevna Bazarov Barbara Jefford

  Fenichka Fedosya Nikolayevna Lesley Sharp

  Anna Sergeyevna Odintsov Meg Davies

  Katya Sergeyevna Robin McCaffrey

  Princess Olga Joyce Grant

  Dunyasha Hazel Ellerby

  Prokofyich Antony Brown

  Piotr Jay Villiers

  Timofeich Peter Halliday

  Fedka Jim Millea

  Directed by Michael Rudman

  Designed by Carl Toms

  Music Matthew Scott

  Act One

  SCENE ONE

  Before the scene begins bring up the sound of Beethoven’s Romance in F-major, Op. 50, played by Nikolai on the cello. Early afternoon in May, 1859.

  The garden-lawn in front of the Kirsanov home. We can see into the living-room upstage. A veranda runs across the front of the house with two steps leading down to the garden. Some potted plants in front of the veranda. Downstage left there is a gazebo/summer-house. Various summer seats and stools. (Left and right from the point of view of the audience.) Characters enter from the left – i.e. the yard, outhouses, servants’ quarters off – or from the house.

  Nikolai is playing the cello in the living-room. Fenichka is sitting in the gazebo, knitting a garment for her baby who is sleeping in a pram at her side. She is an attractive young woman with innate dignity and confidence; but because she is no longer a servant and not yet mistress in the house she is not fully at ease in her environment. Occasionally she glances into the pram. She leaves aside her knitting, closes her eyes and sits listening to the music.

  Dunyasha enters left carrying a laundry-basket full of clothes. She is a plump, open-natured, open-hearted, practical-minded girl who loves to laugh.

  Dunyasha Oh my God, this heat has me destroyed. How do you stick it?

  Fenichka You should have something on your head.

  Dunyasha I met the new estate-manager over there at the clothes-line. Do you know him?

  Fenichka Only to see.

  Dunyasha He is just so beautiful – isn’t he? I could spend my days just gazing at him, with that glossy black moustache and those sleepy brown eyes. Did you notice that beautiful black ’tash?

  Fenichka Dunyasha!

  Dunyasha flops down beside her, Fenichka begins knitting again.

  Dunyasha Honestly. All he’d have to do is raise his little finger and I’d kiss his feet. Anyhow he looked at me and he said, ‘Are you going to faint, little one?’ All the same that was nice, wasn’t it? – ‘little one’. And I said, ‘What d’you mean – am I going to faint?’ ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘your face is all bloated and red.’

  Fenichka (laughing) He did not. That’s another of your stories.

  Dunyasha Cross my heart, (into pram) Hello, Mitya. How are you today, my little darling? Are you well? (She spreads out under the sun.) Beautiful. This must be the hottest May ever. (eyes closed) Is that the big fiddle he’s playing?

  Fenichka You know very well it’s called a cello.

  Dunyasha Sort of nice, isn’t it? Bit lonely – like himself.

  Fenichka Is he lonely?

  Dunyasha You should know. Not much good for dancing.

  Fenichka I heard you were dancing last night.

  Dunyasha Five this morning. Oh, that heat’s lovely.

  Fenichka Any good?

  Dunyasha You mean did I click? (She sits up.) Tell me this, Fenichka: remember all those young fellows used to be at the dances when you and I went together – all that laughing and all that fun – remember?

  Fenichka Yes.

  Dunyasha Well, where in God’s name have they gone to, those boys? Or haven’t they young brothers? All you see now are half-drunk louts that say things like, ‘My God, girl, but you’re a powerful armful of meat.’

  Fenichka laughs.

  It’s true. That’s what a big clodhopper said to me last night. And if it’s not the clodhoppers it’s the usual old lechers with their eyes half-closed and their hands groping your bum.

  She sees Pavel entering left with a book under his arm. She gets quickly to her feet. Pavel is the typical ‘Europeanized’ Russian of the nineteenth century – wears English clothes, speaks French. His manner is jaded but his emotions function fully and astutely.

  Jesus, here comes the Tailor’s Dummy! He must have spotted you.

  Fenichka Don’t go, Dunyasha. Stay with me.

  Dunyasha You’re well fit to handle that old goat. And Dunyasha’s place is in the kitchen.

  Fenichka Please.

  Dunyasha You’re too gentle. Tell him straight out to bugger off.

  She rises, makes a curtsy to Pavel and exits quickly left, leaving her basket behind her.

  The relationship between Pavel and Fenichka is uneasy. He looks into the pram and then at Fenichka.

  Pavel Am I intruding?

  Fenichka No. Not at all.

&
nbsp; Pavel Will you be sending into town for groceries today?

  Fenichka Yes.

  Pavel Would you order something for me?

  Fenichka What do you want?

  Pavel Tea. Green tea. If you would.

  Fenichka Of course.

  Pavel Half a pound would suffice.

  Fenichka I’ll see to that.

  Pavel Merci bien. (into pram) Hello-hello-hello-hello. He has very strong fingers. Maybe he’ll be a cellist like his father. How do you like your new bedroom, Fenichka?

  Fenichka I love it. It gets the sun in the early morning.

  Pavel I see your light on very often in the middle of the night.

  She rises and gathers her things.

  Fenichka That’s his lordship – cutting a new tooth. Aren’t you cutting a new tooth, you rascal, and keeping your mother awake at night?

  Pavel Tu es très belle.

  Fenichka Sorry?

  Pavel Look – he won’t let me go.

  Fenichka Let your uncle go, Mitya.

  Pavel Fenichka –

  Fenichka I think I’ll take him inside. This sun’s a bit hot for him.

  Pavel All I want to say is –

  He gets no further because Prokofyich enters left. He is an elderly retainer, excessively dignified and formal in manner; but now he is so excited, indeed so confused, that he almost runs across the stage and proclaims too loudly to nobody in particular:

  Prokofyich The carriage has arrived! He’s back! Master Arkady is back!

  Pavel That’s early. They must have made good time.

  Prokofyich The carriage is here! He has arrived! He has arrived!

  Pavel A bit of life about the place.

  Fenichka Yes.

  Pavel Fenichka, forgive me if –

  Prokofyich Master Arkady is back! The carriage is here! Arkady’s home from Petersburg!

  Prokofyich is now on the veranda and calling into the living-room. Nikolai emerges with the cello-bow in his hand. He walks with a slight limp. He is a kind, decent, generous-spirited man, vague and bumbling at times but always fully alert to what is happening around him.

  The carriage is here! Arkady’s home! He’s back! He’s back!