by Brian Friel
EAMON: Willie who?
CLAIRE: Willie who!
TOM: Willie Diver.
EAMON: Of course. Willie Slooghter, the ardent suitor. Sorry I missed him.
TOM: He’ll be back later. He was putting up the baby-alarm for Judith. See – on the door-frame.
CLAIRE: That’s going to be a great help.
(EAMON raises his glass to the speaker.)
EAMON: The judicial presence restored. District Justice
O’Donnell, Sir, welcome downstairs again. (To CLAIRE) Is it true that Willie practically haunts the place?
CLAIRE: A little bit, I’m afraid. But he’s very helpful to Judith; and very generous.
(CLAIRE now sits and begins to sew her head-dress. ALICE drifts upstage and sits alone in the gazebo. TOM sits close to the sun-dial and glances through his notes.)
EAMON: Always was. One civil and one decent man. (Drinks.) Your good health, William. D’you know what someone in the pub was telling me this morning? He has five hundred slot-machines in amusement arcades all round the country. Can you imagine? He’d be worth a fortune if he looked after them but he never goes near them! I’m sorry – Claire?
(Offering a drink.)
CLAIRE: The doctor doesn’t allow me to take alcohol when I’m on sedatives.
EAMON: Aren’t you a wise and obedient girl. Professor?
TOM: It’s Tom. I’m okay.
EAMON: That’s someone you should meet.
TOM: Who’s that?
EAMON: My grandmother. You’d find her interesting. Worked all her life as a maid here in the Hall.
TOM: In the Hall? Here?
EAMON: Didn’t you know that? Oh, yes, yes. Something like fifty-seven years continuous service with the District Justice and his wife. Lord have mercy on her; and away back to the earlier generation, with his father, the High Court judge and his family. Oh, you should meet her before you leave – a fund of stories and information.
TOM: She sounds –
EAMON: Carriages, balls, receptions, weddings, christenings, feasts, deaths, trips to Rome, musical evenings, tennis – that’s the mythology I was nurtured on all my life, day after day, year after year – the life of the ‘quality’ – that’s how she pronounces it, with a flat ‘a’. A strange and marvellous education for a wee country boy, wasn’t it? No, not an education – a permanent pigmentation. I’ll tell you something, Professor: I know more about this place, infinitely more, here and here, (Head and heart.) than they know. Sure? (Drink) You’ll enjoy this. (Now to ALICE up in the gazebo.) Telling the professor about the night I told granny you and I were getting married. (To TOM) Not a notion in the world we were going out, of course. My God, Miss Alice and her grandson! Anyhow. ‘Granny,’ I said this night, ‘Alice and I are going to get married.’ ‘Alice? Who’s Alice? Alice Devenny? Alice Byrne? Not Alice Smith!’ ‘Alice O’Donnell.’ ‘What Alice O’Donnell’s that?’ ‘Alice O’Donnell of the Hall.’ A long silence. Then: ‘May God and his holy mother forgive you, you dirty-mouthed upstart!’ (Laughs.) Wasn’t that an interesting response? As we say about here: Now you’re an educated man, Professor – what do make of that response?
TOM: Oh boy.
EAMON: ‘Oh boy’?
TOM: What do you make of it?
EAMON: Would you like to meet her?
TOM: That would be –
EAMON: I’m sure I could manage to squeeze an appointment.
TOM: Actually I’m leaving to—
EAMON: She’d love to talk to you; I know she would.
TOM: Perhaps some other –
EAMON: She’s crazy about Americans. She has a sister a waitress in the Bronx and a picture of Tom Mix above her bed. Hello, Uncle George. Sit down and give us a bit of your crack.
(This to UNCLE GEORGE who has entered left – his usual entrance, finding himself in the middle of the group before he is aware that they are there. As before he stands and stares and then retreats the way he came.)
EAMON: There goes one happy man.
(CASIMIR has hung up and now stands at the study-lawn door.)
CASIMIR: Can’t get past Letterkenny. But they’ll keep trying.
EAMON: Casimir? (Drink.)
CASIMIR: Later, perhaps. Now be patient for another few minutes and I’ll bring out a beautiful picnic lunch.
CLAIRE: Do you need any help?
CASIMIR: Me? Didn’t I tell you what the boys call me? The kinder mädchen.
CLAIRE: What’s that? (To TOM) What does that mean?
TOM: Is it the … children’s maid? The nanny?
CASIMIR: Well, yes, I suppose that’s the literal translation but in this context it means – it means – well, it’s really a kind of comical, affectionate term. They like to pull my leg, you know. Contrary to popular opinion the German temperament is naturally very – very frivolous and very, very affectionate. Where’s Alice?
ALICE: Hello.
CASIMIR: What are you hiding there for?
ALICE: Getting drunk.
CASIMIR: Now you’re being frivolous. Right – ten minutes at the outside.
(He goes back into the study and off into the hall.)
TOM: The telephone system here is really unsatisfactory, isn’t it?
EAMON: All a game.
TOM: In what way?
EAMON: Casimir pretending he’s calling Helga the Hun. All a game. All a fiction.
ALICE: Oh shut up!
EAMON: No one has ever seen her. We’re convinced he’s invented her.
(TOM laughs uncertainly.)
TOM: Is he serious, Claire?
EAMON: And the three boys – Herbert, Hans and Heinrich. And the dachshund bitch called Dietrich. And his job in the sausage factory. It has the authentic ring of phoney fiction, hasn’t it?
CLAIRE: Don’t listen to him, Tom.
(ALICE has come down from the gazebo to fill her glass.)
ALICE: What’s your phoney fiction?
EAMON: That I’m a laughing broth of an Irish boy. (To TOM) What was the word you used a few minutes ago – that yoke in there – what did you call it? A baby –?
TOM: Baby-alarm.
EAMON: That’s it – baby-alarm.
TOM: You place a small microphone above a baby’s cot so that if it cries –
EAMON: I know – I know how it works. No practical experience of course – have we, love? Just that I find the name curious. Good luck. Yes, I suppose baby-alarm has an aptness in the circumstances. But there’s another word – what’s the name I’m looking for? – what do you call the peep-hole in a prison door? Judas hole! That’s it. Would that be more appropriate? But then we’d have to decide who’s spying on whom, wouldn’t we? No; let’s keep baby-alarm. Gentler. (Laughs.) ‘Baby-alarm’ – yes, I like baby-alarm. (To ALICE) Shouldn’t you go easy on that?
ALICE: Shut up.
EAMON: (To TOM) Less than twenty-four hours away from temperate London and already we’re reverting to drunken Paddies. Must be the environment, mustn’t it? Man-a-dear but that’s a powerful aul’ lump of a summer’s day.
(TOM is looking at his notes. ALICE has gone back to the gazebo. EAMON crosses to CLAIRE who is sewing and sits beside her. He puts his arm round her.)
EAMON: I’m talking too much, amn’t I? (Pause.) I always talk too much in this house, don’t I? Is it because I’m still intimidated by it? (Pause.) And this was always a house of reticence, of things unspoken, wasn’t it?
(She looks at him and smiles. He touches her chin.)
Keep your peace, little wise one. (He removes his arm from round her.) Judith tells me I’m proposing the toast to the groom’s family.
CLAIRE: You know Jerry, don’t you?
EAMON: Not very well. He was that bit older. (Aware) Well – a few years – and when you’re young it seems a lot.
(She takes his glass and drinks.)
Hey! What about those pills?
CLAIRE: I haven’t taken today’s yet.
EAMON: Why not?
CL
AIRE: You know his sister, Ellen?
EAMON: Yes.
CLAIRE: Do you like her?
EAMON: Ellen has her own ways.
CLAIRE: She’ll be living in the house with Jerry and me.
EAMON: For a while, maybe. Ellen’ll marry and move out.
CLAIRE: No, she won’t move out. And she won’t marry now – she’s almost fifty-four – she’s only a year younger than Jerry. And the house is hers. And yesterday she said to me that she’ll carry on as usual – doing the cooking and the housework. So I’ll have nothing to do. A life of leisure. Maybe take the children for walks – she suggested that. But that’s all. The whole day idle. And he’s getting me a car next Christmas so that I won’t even have to walk. Next time you’re back I’ll have put on ten stone!
EAMON: I thought Jerry would want a working wife?
CLAIRE: Oh, yes. He’s buying a piano so that I can teach the children to play. Maybe one of them will become a concert pianist?
(She gets up and moves across the lawn.)
EAMON: What the hell’s keeping Casimir with the grub?
(He rises and pours himself another drink.)
EAMON: God bless Willie Diver. Did you know I was his best man? My God, that was a wedding. I was seventeen, Willie was eighteen, and Nora Sheridan, known locally as Nora the Nun – for reasons of Irish irony, Professor – Nora was thirty if she was a day. And at seventeen I thought: My God, lucky aul’ Slooghter, marrying the village pro, my God he’ll be getting it morning, noon and night and what more could a man want! But of course the marriage lasted five months and the brave Nora cleared off with a British soldier stationed in Derry and was never seen again and aul’ Willie was back with the rest of us hoping to get it maybe once a year on St Patrick’s night with big Tessie Mulligan if you promised to take her and her twin sister to the pig co-op dance. Isn’t life full of tiny frustrations, Professor? And how’s the research going?
TOM: Satisfactorily.
EAMON: Are you writing a book?
TOM: Eventually.
EAMON: About?
TOM: I’m not going to bore you with my theories.
EAMON: Please. (To ALICE) We’re captivated – aren’t we, love?
TOM: Alice is not captivated.
EAMON: Alice reveals her passion in oblique ways.
TOM: I’d really rather not –
EAMON: But I’m interested; I’m genuinely interested. Please.
TOM: Well, when we talk about the big house in this country, we usually mean the Protestant big house with its Anglo-Irish tradition and culture; and the distinction is properly made between that tradition and culture and what we might call the native Irish tradition and culture which is Roman Catholic.
EAMON: With reservations – yes. So?
TOM: So what I’m researching is the life and the life-style of the Roman Catholic big house – by no means as thick on the ground but still there; what we might call a Roman Catholic aristocracy – for want of a better term.
EAMON: No, no, it’s a good term; I like the term. The Professor’s talking about you, love!
TOM: And the task I’ve set myself is to explore its political, cultural and economic influence both on the ascendancy ruling class and on the native peasant tradition. Over the past one hundred and fifty years – in fact since Catholic emancipation – what political clout did they wield, what economic contribution did they make to the status of their co-religionists, what cultural effect did they have on the local peasantry?
EAMON: The Professor’s talking about me, love! And Ballybeg Hall’s your prototype?
TOM: No, just one example.
EAMON: And what conclusions have you reached?
TOM: None yet, Eamon. I’m still digging.
EAMON: Ah. Let’s see can we help the Professor. What were the questions again? What political clout did they wield?
(Considers. Then sadly shakes his head.) What economic help were they to their co-religionists? (Considers. Then sadly shakes his head.) What cultural effect did they have on the local peasantry? Alice? (Considers. Then sadly shakes his head.) We agree, I’m afraid. Sorry, Professor. Bogus thesis. No book.
TOM: Okay. So no book.
EAMON: But you’ll go ahead all the same, won’t you?
TOM: I may well be so obtuse.
(CASIMIR enters the study, carrying a large tray. As he crosses towards the lawn he chants:)
CASIMIR: What we are about to receive is a magnificent lunch which will be served on the lawn and it has been prepared specially and with meticulous care by –
(He is now on the lawn and is about to put the tray on the ground when his chant is interrupted by FATHER’s clear and commanding voice.)
FATHER: Casimir!
(CASIMIR jumps to attention; rigid, terrified.)
CASIMIR: Yes sir!
FATHER: Come to the library at once. I wish to speak to you.
(CASIMIR now realizes that the voice has come from the speaker.)
CASIMIR: Christ … oh-oh-oh my God … Ha-ha. Isn’t that a very comical joke – I almost stood to attention – I almost stood –
(He looks round at the others who are staring at him. He tries to smile. He is totally lost. He looks at the tray; then sinks to the ground with it, ending in a kneeling position.)
CASIMIR: That’s the second time I was caught – the second time –
(JUDITH enters with the tea-pot. The eldest of the O’Donnell family: almost forty. She is dressed in old working clothes. Her appearance is of little interest to her.)
JUDITH: Did you bring the sugar and the sandwiches, Casimir? I’ve got the tea here.
FATHER: At once, Sir. And bring your headmaster’s report with you. I intend to get to the bottom of this.
CASIMIR: Judith?
JUDITH: What is it?
CASIMIR: Judith?
(She goes quickly outside, gets down beside him and takes him in her arms. He is crying now.)
CASIMIR: I’m sorry – I’m sorry – I’m very sorry.
JUDITH: It’s all right.
CASIMIR: I’m very sorry, very sorry.
JUDITH: Everything’s all right – everything’s fine.
CASIMIR: I don’t think it’s fair, Judith.
JUDITH: Shhhhh.
CASIMIR: That’s the second time I was caught by it. It’s not fair – it’s not fair.
JUDITH: Shhhhh.
CASIMIR: Ha-ha. It’s not fair.
(She rocks him in her arms as if he were a baby. The others look away. Bring lights down slowly.)
ACT TWO
About an hour later.
The remains of the lunch are scattered over the lawn: dishes, linen napkins, food, some empty wine bottles.
The sun, the food, the wine have taken their toll: EAMON is sprawled on the grass, dozing.
JUDITH, her eyes closed, her face tilted up to the sun, is smoking a cigarette.
WILLIE is sitting on the step immediately above and behind her. CLAIRE is sitting apart from the others, close to the sundial. TOM is in the gazebo, reading a newspaper but aware of what the others are doing.
CASIMIR is crawling around on his hands and knees, moving along very slowly and feeling the ground vety carefully with his finger-tips. He is totally concentrated on this strange task. (He is looking for the holes left by croquet hoops; on the same site as the vanished tennis-court.)
Only ALICE is lively. She has had a little too much to drink and she is pacing about, glass in hand, occasionally making giddy, complicated little steps with her feet.
ALICE: I know you’re paying no attention to me – old Alice is a little tiddly, isn’t she? But what I’m suggesting is very sensible. The meal will be over at half one or two; and the happy couple will drive off into eternal bliss, And what’s to become of the rest of us? Sit looking at one another with melancholy faces? Sleep? Talk about old times? Listen to Father on the baby-alarm? (Short giggle – then remorse. To CASIMIR.) Apologies. Withdraw that. That was unkind. So what do we do? My
suggestion is – no, it’s a formal proposal. Madam Chairman (Judith) – I put it to your worship that we all head off somewhere and have some fun ourselves. You’ll drive us, Willie, won’t you?
WILLIE: Surely to God. Anywhere you want.
ALICE: All set, then. Where’ll we go? Glencolmcille! Who’s for –
(JUDITH sits up very quickly and lifts the writing pad at her side i.e. her list of wedding preparations.)
JUDITH: Willie isn’t free to go anywhere.
(ALICE grimaces extravagantly behind her back.)
ALICE: Oooooh. So Willie isn’t free. All right, we’ll club together and rent a car – no, I’ll rent a car and you’ll all be my guests. Is that a unanimous verdict?
JUDITH: Let’s get back to these things.
ALICE: And we’ll bring our court clerk with us and every word we utter will be carefully recorded.
JUDITH: Where had we got to? Any word from the photographer?
WILLIE: He’ll be there at the chapel and then he’ll come up here afterwards.
ALICE: God help the poor man if he thinks he’s heard one word of truth since he came here. Is he in the library?
TOM: Careful, Alice: I’m here.
ALICE: All you’re hearing is lies, my friend – lies, lies, lies.
TOM: What’s the truth?
ALICE: Later in the day and alcoholic Alice’ll tell all.
JUDITH: I’ve asked one of the Moloney girls to look after Father while we’re at the church. Are you busy that morning?
WILLIE: Doing nothing.
JUDITH: Could you run her up? About half nine?
WILLIE: No bother.
JUDITH: Thanks.
ALICE: Well, if none of you want to come with me, as Sister Thérèse used to say – remember her strange English? – ‘Boo-gar the whole lot of you!’
(She slumps into a chair and closes her eyes.)
JUDITH: Food – that’s all got except for the ham.
CASIMIR: Hurrah!
(CASIMIR’s sudden triumphant exclamation startles everybody. EAMON wakens, startled.)
CASIMIR: There you are! Knew they were here!
EAMON: God.
CASIMIR: There! Look – look – look!
(He has a finger stuck into the ground.)
ALICE: Good old Casimir!
CASIMIR: Now if there’s one there, there must be another somewhere beside it.