by Brian Friel
Terry I don’t remember a lot. There were three beds – you know, mounds of stone – and every time you went round a bed you said certain prayers and then picked up a stone from the bottom of the mound and placed it on the top.
Frank Trish! (Photograph.)
Trish Oh, Frank!
Terry And I remember a holy well, and my father filling a bottle with holy water and stuffing the neck with grass – you know, to cork it. And I remember a whin bush beside the well –
Trish There! Good for you, Berna!
Terry And there were crutches and walking sticks hanging on the bush; and bits of cloth – bratóga, my father called them – a handkerchief, a piece of shawl – bleached and turning green from exposure. Votive offerings – isn’t that the English word? And there’s the ruins of a Middle Age church dedicated to Saint Conall. (to Frank) Isn’t that the period you’re writing your book about?
Frank Something like that. Close enough.
Trish But it’s not a pilgrimage island now?
Terry No, no; that all ended years and years ago.
Trish Why?
Frank People stopped believing, didn’t they?
Terry Nobody does that sort of thing nowadays, do they? And when the countryside around here was populated apparently they made poitín out there – that wouldn’t have helped the pilgrimage business. There were even stories of drunken orgies.
Angela (salute) Saint Dionysus!
Trish But years ago people went there to be cured?
Berna To remember again – to be reminded.
Trish To remember what?
Frank George! (Photograph.)
Berna To be in touch again – to attest.
Frank Angela! (Photograph.)
Terry People went there just to make a pilgrimage, Trish.
Frank And to see apparitions. Patricia! (Photograph.)
Trish But you saw crutches on that bush. So people must have been cured there.
Frank Apparitions were commonplace in the Middle Ages. Saint Conall must have seen hundreds of apparitions in his day. Terry! (Photograph.)
Trish Don’t be so cheap, Frank.
Frank Thousands maybe.
Trish (to Terry) Do you believe people were cured there?
Terry All I know is that at seven years of age just to get sitting up all night was adventure enough for me. The first time I ever saw the dawn. I remember my head was giddy from want of sleep.
Trish And father?
Frank Berna! (Photograph.)
Trish Why did Father go out there? He believed in nothing.
Frank You’re beautiful.
Trish Why did Father go out there?
Terry For God’s sake, Trish! That was another age. To pray – to do penance –
Berna To acknowledge – to make acknowledgement.
Terry You had another word, Berna – to attest!
George makes a sound.
What’s that, George?
Trish To attest to the mystery, he says.
Terry And why not! (He laughs.) I’m a bookie for God’s sake. All I know is: that’s where we’ll have our party tonight. OK?
Angela Once when the Greek god Dionysus was going to the island of Naxos he was captured by pirates who took him to be a wealthy prince –
Frank You’d never guess. My wife teaches Classics.
Angela But suddenly his chains fell away, and vines and ivy sprouted all over the pirate ship, and the sailors were so frightened they jumped into the sea and turned into dolphins.
Trish Will we really see dolphins? God, I love dolphins.
Frank is now up on the catwalk.
Frank Where does our boat come from?
Terry A house just across there. (to Angela) You know that by heart.
Frank No house. No boat. Nothing from here to Boston except a derelict church – without a roof.
Trish I’m sure it’s very beautiful out there. But I’d be happy to settle for this. But if you all …
Silence as they gaze out again. Then suddenly Angela leaps on top of a bollard, flings her hands above her head and proclaims in the style of an American evangelist:
Angela There it is, friends – Oileán Draíochta, our destination! Wonderful – other – mysterious! Alleluia! So I ask you to join with me in that most beautiful song, ‘Heavenly Sunshine’. Brother George?
As George plays a brief introduction:
Now – open your minds, your lungs, your arms, your hearts. All together, brothers and sisters – (sings) ‘Heavenly sunshine, heavenly sunshine –’ Can’t hear you, friends. ‘Flooding my soul with glory divine –’
Terry now joins her.
Angela and Terry
‘Heavenly sunshine, heavenly sunshine,
Alleluia, Jesus is mine.’
Angela And one more time! Sister Tricia, Sister Berna –?
Terry, Trish, Berna and Angela (sing together)
‘Heavenly sunshine, heavenly sunshine,
Flooding my soul with glory divine,
Heavenly sunshine, heavenly sunshine,
Alleluia, Jesus is mine –’
Angela And one more time, Brother George –
But instead of a reprise – and without a break in his playing – George goes straight into ‘Knees-up, Mother Brown’. This is greeted with laughter, cheers, derision – voices overlapping:
George!
Frank Wonderful!
Trish Good man, George!
Terry Sing it, Angela!
Berna I know that one!
And they all – except George – dance around the pier and sing the chorus at the top of their voices. When they get to the end of the chorus:
Terry One more time!
And again they sing the chorus. Just before it ends Frank shouts:
Frank Quiet, please! Shut up, will you?
They fall silent.
We have a problem, good brethren. I’m telling you – there is no boat.
Angela Who’s for a quick drink?
Trish nods yes.
Frank And not only is there no boat, there isn’t a house within a hundred miles of us.
Angela (to Trish) Champagne?
Trish nods yes.
Trish (to Frank) Use these (binoculars).
Terry Yes, there is, Frank. Just beyond the sand dunes.
Angela (sings to the air of ‘Abide with Me’)
‘Beyond the sand dunes
You will find our boat –’
Frank Nothing but bogland from here to the mountains. And not a boat from here to the horizon.
Terry A thatched cottage – further to your left.
Frank Sorry.
Trish You’re the one with the eyes, Berna.
Terry As far as I remember it’s down at the very edge of the water.
Frank Hold on … yes … is that not a byre?
Terry They’re the people who do the ferrying.
Frank Deserted, Terry. And there’s grass growing out of the thatch.
Terry Carlin’s the name. Been there for generations.
Angela (holding up a bottle) Berna?
Berna signals no.
Frank Hold on … wait … Yes, you’re right! There’s smoke coming out of the chimney! God, that’s a hovel. (He comes down.) Right, I’ll go and get Carlin. Are we all set to leave?
Terry Think so. Aren’t we?
Frank And he picks us up on the island tomorrow morning – when? – about seven?
Terry That’s the plan.
Frank Right.
Angela (sings to the air of ‘Abide with Me’)
‘That is the place!
That shapes our destiny –’
Frank (as he passes behind Angela, privately) You’re making a nuisance of yourself.
Angela sings the title of the song ‘I Don’t Know Why I’m Happy’.)
What if Carlin isn’t at home?
Trish Or refuses to ferry bowsies.
Angela Or is dead.
Frank Seriously. Wha
t if –?
Terry Someone from the house will take us, Frank. They’ve been ferrying people for thousands of years.
Frank I’m sure they have. All I’m asking is: supposing there is nobody free now to –
Terry (sharply, impatiently) Tell him the new owner of the island sent you for him! (He stops short; tries to laugh.) I didn’t mean to … (‘let that out’ is unsaid)
Pause.
Trish Well, aren’t you a close one, Terry Martin!
Terry I’m sorry. I –
Trish You kept that a big secret.
Frank You’ve actually bought Oileán Draíochta?
Terry Four months ago. Sight unseen. Ridiculous, isn’t it?
Angela So it’s your island we’re going to?
Terry Stupid, I know. Heard by accident it was on the market, (to Angela) Miles from anywhere – good for nothing, isn’t it?
Angela spreads her hands.
Angela Challenge for a sherpa.
Terry I know it’s ridiculous. I know it sounds –
Frank This is no mystery tour he’s taking us on – he’s taking us home! Wonderful, Terry!
Trish And I wish you luck with it. Congratulations, (to Berna) So you own your own island, Mrs Martin. Very posh.
Berna It’s news to me.
Terry I was going to tell you all out there tonight – tomorrow morning – whenever. Anyhow … (to Frank) Will you get Carlin for us?
Frank I’m away. Well done. Terrific!
Frank goes off. Terry feels that some further explanation is necessary.
Terry Haven’t seen it for over forty years … and I was always curious to have another look at it … obsessed in a kind of way … and the fact that it came on the market …
Trish Good. Great.
They drift apart and attend to their belongings. Terry goes to Trish.
All I can say is – you have money to burn.
Terry Not true at all, I’m afraid.
Trish Berna seems in better form.
Terry Do you think so?
Trish Plenty of chat out of her in the minibus.
Terry She’s really most content when she’s in the nursing home.
Trish (very softly) Mother was right, you know: if you didn’t spoil her so much.
Terry Trish! (to George) Met an old friend of yours in London last week – Michael Robinson.
Trish You never did! (to George) He met Michael Robinson in London, George. (to Terry) And how was he?
Terry Great … fine … well, not so good. Bumped into him in a pub. Didn’t recognize him – not that I ever knew him well. Actually I thought he was a down-and-out touching me.
Trish Michael?
Terry I know – awful. Asking very warmly for you (George). Talked for over an hour about you and him at college together … doing your degree … and the duets you used to play –
Trish Sonatas.
Terry That’s it – sonatas.
Trish Beethoven sonatas.
Terry Talked for over an hour. Couldn’t shut him up. Eventually I gave him some money and just … walked away.
George moves away and sits on a bollard.
Trish That’s all they did for three whole years at college – play piano and violin sonatas – day and night. The Aeolians – that’s what they called themselves.
Terry He said you talked about going professional.
George Maybe …
Trish They were the stars of the college. Oh such stars they were. Michael was going to be Ireland’s first great concert violinist. He could have been, too. And there was absolutely no doubt that George was the new Rachmaninov – no doubt at all about that. And together they were so brilliant, especially in the Beethoven sonatas. Oh, I can’t tell you how brilliant they were … Michael Robinson … oh my goodness …
Pause. Berna hums the line ‘O Mother, I could weep for mirth’ and stops suddenly.
Terry (to Angela) I know you think it’s crass.
Angela What’s that?
Terry Bookie Buys Island Sight Unseen.
Angela But an island remembered, however vaguely.
Terry I did it on impulse. In memory of my father, maybe.
Angela A new venue for rock concerts, wrestling matches?
Terry Why not? Bullfights, revivalist meetings. I was afraid you mightn’t come this morning.
Angela Terry Martin Productions! Dionysian Nights On Oileán Draíochta!
Terry If you hadn’t come I’d have called it off.
Angela Celebrate The Passions That Refuse To Be Domesticated!
Terry I would have –
Angela Nature Over Culture! Instinct Over Management!
Terry Angela –
Angela A Hymn To The Forces That Defy Civilization!
Terry Oh God, Angela –
Angela (passionately, urgently) Please, Terry – for Christ’s sake – please, not now – not now!
Berna stands on a fish-box and proclaims:
Berna Lord, it is good for us to be here!
Angela Amen to that, sister!
Terry Careful, Berna. That box is rotten.
Berna I want to sing a hymn.
Angela Yes! Sing your hymn, Berna!
Berna now sings, her face frozen in a fixed and desperate smile.
Berna (sings) ‘O, Mother, I could weep for mirth –’
Terry Berna –
Berna ‘Joy fills my heart so fast –’ Help me, George!
Angela Help her, George.
Berna I’ll start again. Give me a note.
George gives her a chord.
Thank you.
‘O, Mother, I could weep for mirth
Joy fills my heart so fast –’
Angela now sings with her.
Berna and Angela
‘My soul today is heaven on earth
O could the transport last.’
Trish Good girl, Berna!
Now Trish joins them.
Berna, Angela and Trish ‘I think of thee and what thou art –’
Now Terry joins them.
Berna, Angela, Trish and Terry
‘Thy majesty, thy state.
And I keep singing in my heart
Immaculate! Immaculate!’
SCENE TWO
Before the lights come up we hear George playing the entire first verse of ‘Oft in the Stilly Night’.
About twelve hours later – the early hours of the following morning. The pier is lit by a midsummer-night glow that illuminates with an icy, surreal clarity.
The boisterous, day-excursion spirit has long ago evaporated. Waiting for the boat has made them weary and a bit irritable. Each has retreated into his/her own privacy and does not wish to be intruded on.
Angela is sitting on a bollard, gazing without interest through the binoculars in the general direction of the island. Trish is sitting with her back to the pier wall, her arms round her legs, her face on her knees. Frank is on the catwalk and looking towards Carlin’s house. Berna is sitting on the edge of the pier (stage right), her legs hanging over the edge of the pier floor. George is sitting on a fish-box, head back, eyes closed, body erect and tense, playing the last bars of the song. Terry looks casually through the hampers, examining the contents, tidying up, killing time.
The music ends.
Terry Anybody for a slice of melting birthday cake?
No answer. He continues tidying. Pause.
Glass of flat champagne?
No answer. He continues tidying. Pause.
Venison and apricot compote? Honey gâteau? Ever hear of honey gâteau?
Trish Give our heads peace, Terry, would you?
Terry Maybe I should bring this cake over to Carlin. Might soften his bark.
Frank Hey-hey-hey-hey-hey! Look at that! There’s smoke coming from the chimney again!
Trish (wearily) Wonderful.
Frank He lets the fire die at midnight and then three hours later he lights it up again. What the hell is Mr Carlin up to?
Frank What sort of a game is he playing with us?
Terry Time has no meaning for a man like that. (He holds up a small box.) Cherry and mandarin chartreuse –? (to Trish) Sorry.
Pause. George now plays the full chorus of ‘Down by the Cane-brake’. He plays very softly and more slowly than the song is scored. His arrangement with its harmonium-style chords endows the song with the tone and dignity of a hymn. It sounds almost sacred. Immediately after he plays ‘Down by the cane-brake, close by the mill’ Angela looks at him.
Angela ‘Down by the Cane-brake.’
George Know it?
Angela Haven’t heard it in years.
Terry What’s a cane-brake?
Angela Shelter-belt of canes, I suppose. Protection against the elements.
Terry Ah.
Frank If he’s not playing some sort of bizarre game with us, then explain why he lights his fire at three in the morning.
Angela He just loves tormenting us.
Trish The poor man’s cold, Frank.
Frank Not that man. That man has no human feelings.
Angela Maybe he wants to dispel the enchantment.
Terry Marrons glacés – whatever they are. George?
George No, thanks.
Frank He has betrayed us, the bastard.
Terry He’ll come, Frank. Believe me.
Trish We could do with a cane-brake here.
Frank If he never had any intention of ferrying us across – fine! – say that straight out! ‘Sorry, bowsies, no ferrying today.’
Terry He’ll come.
Trish Couldn’t we rent his boat from him and row ourselves out?
Frank Where’s the boat? Has he got a boat?
Terry (to Trish) He’d never allow that.
Trish Why not?
Terry That’s his job.
Trish Too late to go out now anyway.
Terry It’s only ten to three. We’ll still make it – believe me.
Trish Of course, when I proposed we spend the night here, I was shouted down. Perverse – that’s what you are.
Frank ‘Give me a while at the turf, sir. That’s all I need.’ And four hours later, ‘A mouthful of tea and I’ll be over behind you.’
Trish Maybe he’s past ferrying people. Is he very old?
Frank Ancient; and filthy; and toothless. And bloody smiling all the time.