The Short Plays of Harold Pinter
Page 36
Pause.
Is your son all right?
VICTOR I don’t know.
NICOLAS Oh, I’m sure he’s all right. What age is he … seven … or thereabouts? Big lad, I’m told. Nevertheless, silly of him to behave as he did. But is he all right?
VICTOR I don’t know.
NICOLAS Oh, I’m sure he’s all right. Anyway, I’ll have a word with him later and find out. He’s somewhere on the second floor, I believe.
Pause.
Well now …
Pause.
What do you say? Are we friends?
Pause.
I’m prepared to be frank, as a true friend should. I love death. What about you?
Pause.
What about you? Do you love death? Not necessarily your own. Others’. The death of others. Do you love the death of others, or at any rate, do you love the death of others as much as I do?
Pause.
Are you always so dull? I understood you enjoyed the cut and thrust of debate.
Pause.
Death. Death. Death. Death. As has been noted by the most respected authorities, it is beautiful. The purest, most harmonious thing there is. Sexual intercourse is nothing compared to it.
He drinks.
Talking about sexual intercourse …
He laughs wildly, stops.
Does she … fuck? Or does she …? Or does she … like … you know… what? What does she like? I’m talking about your wife. Your wife.
Pause.
You know the old joke? Does she fuck?
Heavily, in another voice:
Does she fuck!
He laughs.
It’s ambiguous, of course. It could mean she fucks like a rabbit or she fucks not at all.
Pause.
Well, we’re all God’s creatures. Even your wife.
Pause.
There is only one obligation. To be honest. You have no other obligation. Weigh that. In your mind. Do you know the man who runs this country? No? Well, he’s a very nice chap. He took me aside the other day, last Wednesday, I think it was, he took me aside, at a reception, visiting dignitaries, he took me aside, me, and he said to me, he said, in what I can only describe as a hoarse whisper, Nic, he said, Nic (that’s my name), Nic, if you ever come across anyone whom you have good reason to believe is getting on my tits, tell them one thing, tell them honesty is the best policy. The cheese was superb. Goat. One for the road.
He pours.
Your wife and I had a very nice chat but I couldn’t help noticing she didn’t look her best. She’s probably menstruating. Women do that.
Pause.
You know, old chap, I do love other things, apart from death. So many things. Nature. Trees, things like that. A nice blue sky. Blossom.
Pause.
Tell me … truly … are you beginning to love me?
Pause.
I think your wife is. Beginning. She is beginning to fall in love with me. On the brink … of doing so. The trouble is, I have rivals. Because everyone here has fallen in love with your wife. It’s her eyes have beguiled them. What’s her name? Gila … or something?
Pause.
Who would you prefer to be? You or me?
Pause.
I’d go for me if I were you. The trouble about you, although I grant your merits, is that you’re on a losing wicket, while I can’t put a foot wrong. Do you take my point? Ah God, let me confess, let me make a confession to you. I have never been more moved, in the whole of my life, as when – only the other day, last Friday, I believe – the man who runs this country announced to the country: We are all patriots, we are as one, we all share a common heritage. Except you, apparently.
Pause.
I feel a link, you see, a bond. I share a commonwealth of interest. I am not alone. I am not alone!
Silence.
VICTOR Kill me.
NICOLAS What?
VICTOR Kill me.
NICOLAS goes to him, puts his arm around him.
NICOLAS What’s the matter?
Pause.
What in heaven’s name is the matter?
Pause.
Mmmnnn?
Pause.
You’re probably just hungry. Or thirsty. Let me tell you something. I hate despair. I find it intolerable. The stink of it gets up my nose. It’s a blemish. Despair, old fruit, is a cancer. It should be castrated. Indeed I’ve often found that that works. Chop the balls off and despair goes out the window. You’re left with a happy man. Or a happy woman. Look at me.
VICTOR does so.
Your soul shines out of your eyes.
Blackout.
Lights up. Afternoon.
NICOLAS standing with a small boy.
NICOLAS What is your name?
NICKY Nicky.
NICOLAS Really? How odd.
Pause.
Do you like cowboys and Indians?
NICKY Yes. A bit.
NICOLAS What do you really like?
NICKY I like aeroplanes.
NICOLAS Real ones or toy ones?
NICKY I like both kinds of ones.
NICOLAS Do you?
Pause.
Why do you like aeroplanes?
Pause.
NICKY Well… because they go so fast. Through the air. The real ones do.
NICOLAS And the toy ones?
NICKY I pretend they go as fast as the real ones do.
Pause.
NICOLAS Do you like your mummy and daddy?
Pause.
Do you like your mummy and daddy?
NICKY Yes.
NICOLAS Why?
Pause.
Why?
Pause.
Do you find that a hard question to answer?
Pause.
NICKY Where’s Mummy?
NICOLAS You don’t like your mummy and daddy?
NICKY Yes, I do.
NICOLAS Why?
Pause.
Would you like to be a soldier when you grow up?
NICKY I don’t mind.
NICOLAS You don’t? Good. You like soldiers. Good. But you spat at my soldiers and you kicked them. You attacked them.
NICKY Were they your soldiers?
NICOLAS They are your country’s soldiers.
NICKY I didn’t like those soldiers.
NICOLAS They don’t like you either, my darling.
Blackout.
Lights up. Night.
NICOLAS sitting, GILA standing. Her clothes are torn. She is bruised.
NICOLAS When did you meet your husband?
GILA When I was eighteen.
NICOLAS Why?
GILA Why?
NICOLAS Why?
GILA I just met him.
NICOLAS Why?
GILA I didn’t plan it.
NICOLAS Why not?
GILA I didn’t know him.
NICOLAS Why not?
Pause.
Why not?
GILA I didn’t know him.
NICOLAS Why not?
GILA I met him.
NICOLAS When?
GILA When I was eighteen.
NICOLAS Why?
GILA He was in the room.
NICOLAS Room?
Pause.
Room?
GILA The same room.
NICOLAS As what?
GILA As I was.
NICOLAS As I was?
Pause.
GILA (screaming) As I was!
NICOLAS Room? What room?
GILA A room.
NICOLAS What room?
GILA My father’s room.
NICOLAS Your father? What’s your father got to do
with it?
Pause.
Your father? How dare you? Fuckpig.
Pause.
Your father was a wonderful man. His country is proud of him. He’s dead. He was a man of honour. He’s dead. Are you prepared to insult the memory of your father?
Pause.
Are you prepared to de
fame, to debase, the memory of your father? Your father fought for his country. I knew him. I revered him. Everyone did. He believed in God. He didn’t think, like you shitbags. He lived. He lived.
He was iron and gold. He would die, he would die, he would die, for his country, for his God. And he did die, he died, he died, for his God. You turd. To spawn such a daughter. What a fate. Oh, poor, perturbed spirit, to be haunted for ever by such scum and spittle. How do you dare speak of your father to me? I loved him, as if he were my own father.
Silence.
Where did you meet your husband?
GILA In a street.
NICOLAS What were you doing there?
GILA Walking.
NICOLAS What was he doing?
GILA Walking.
Pause.
I dropped something. He picked it up.
NICOLAS What did you drop?
GILA The evening paper.
NICOLAS You were drunk.
Pause.
You were drugged.
Pause.
You had absconded from your hospital.
GILA I was not in a hospital.
NICOLAS Where are you now?
Pause.
Where are you now? Do you think you are in a hospital?
Pause.
Do you think we have nuns upstairs?
Pause.
What do we have upstairs?
GILA No nuns.
NICOLAS What do we have?
GILA Men.
NICOLAS Have they been raping you?
She stares at him.
How many times?
Pause.
How many times have you been raped?
Pause.
How many times?
He stands, goes to her, lifts his finger.
This is my big finger. And this is my little finger. Look. I wave them in front of your eyes. Like this. How many times have you been raped?
GILA I don’t know.
NICOLAS And you consider yourself a reliable witness?
He goes to sideboard, pours drink, sits, drinks.
You’re a lovely woman. Well, you were.
He leans back, drinks, sighs.
Your son is … seven. He’s a little prick. You made him so. You have taught him to be so. You had a choice. You could have encouraged him to be a good person. Instead, you encouraged him to be a little prick. You encouraged him to spit, to strike at soldiers of honour, soldiers of God.
Pause.
Oh well … in one way I suppose it’s academic.
Pause.
You’re of no interest to me. I might even let you out of here, in due course. But I should think you might entertain us all a little more before you go.
Blackout.
Lights up. Night.
NICOLAS standing, VICTOR sitting, VICTOR is tidily dressed.
NICOLAS How have you been? Surviving?
VICTOR Yes.
NICOLAS Yes?
VICTOR Yes. Yes.
NICOLAS Really? How?
VICTOR Oh…
Pause.
NICOLAS I can’t hear you.
VICTOR It’s my mouth.
NICOLAS Mouth?
VICTOR Tongue.
NICOLAS What’s the matter with it?
Pause.
What about a drink? One for the road. What do you say to a drink?
He goes to bottle, pours two glasses, gives a glass to VICTOR.
Drink up. It’ll put lead in your pencil. And then we’ll find someone to take it out.
He laughs.
We can do that, you know. We have a first-class brothel upstairs, on the sixth floor, chandeliers, the lot. They’ll suck you in and blow you out in little bubbles. All volunteers. Their daddies are in our business. Which is, I remind you, to keep the world clean for God. Get me? Drink up. Drink up. Are you refusing to drink with me?
VICTOR drinks. His head falls back.
Cheers.
NICOLAS drinks.
You can go.
Pause.
You can leave. We’ll meet again, I hope. I trust we will always remain friends. Go out. Enjoy life. Be good. Love your wife. She’ll be joining you in about a week, by the way. If she feels up to it. Yes. I feel we’ve both benefited from our discussions.
VICTOR mutters.
What?
VICTOR mutters.
What?
VICTOR My son.
NICOLAS Your son? Oh, don’t worry about him. He was a little prick.
VICTOR straightens and stares at NICOLAS.
Silence.
Blackout.
MOUNTAIN LANGUAGE
Mountain Language first published by
Faber and Faber Ltd 1988
© Fraser52 Limited, 1988
Mountain Language was first performed at the National Theatre, London, on 20 October 1988. The cast was as follows:
YOUNG WOMAN Miranda Richardson
ELDERLY WOMAN Eileen Atkins
SERGEANT Michael Gambon
OFFICER Julian Wadham
GUARD George Harris
PRISONER Tony Haygarth
HOODED MAN Alex Hardy
SECOND GUARD Douglas McFerran
Directed by Harold Pinter
Designed by Michael Taylor.
Moutain Language was revived in a double bill with Ashes to Ashes at the Royal Court Theatre, London, in June 2001 with the following cast:
YOUNG WOMAN Anastasia Hille
ELDERLY WOMAN Gabrielle Hamilton
SERGEANT Neil Dudgeon
OFFICER Geoffrey Streatfeild
GUARD Daniel Cerqueira
PRISONER Paul Hilton
SECOND GUARD Tim Treloar
Directed by Katie Mitchell
Designed by Vicki Mortimer
Characters
YOUNG WOMAN
ELDERLY WOMAN
SERGEANT
OFFICER
GUARD
PRISONER
HOODED MAN
SECOND GUARD
One
A PRISON WALL
A line of women. An ELDERLY WOMAN, cradling her hand. A basket at her feet. A YOUNG WOMAN with her arm around the WOMAN’s shoulders.
A SERGEANT enters, followed by an OFFICER. The SERGEANT points to the YOUNG WOMAN.
SERGEANT Name!
YOUNG WOMAN We’ve given our names.
SERGEANT Name?
YOUNG WOMAN We’ve given our names.
SERGEANT Name?
OFFICER (to SERGEANT) Stop this shit. (TO YOUNG WOMAN.) Any complaints?
YOUNG WOMAN She’s been bitten.
OFFICER Who?
Pause.
Who? Who’s been bitten?
YOUNG WOMAN She has. She has a torn hand. Look. Her hand has been bitten. This is blood.
SERGEANT (to YOUNG WOMAN) What is your name?
OFFICER Shut up.
He walks over to ELDERLY WOMAN.
What’s happened to your hand? Has someone bitten your hand?
The WOMAN slowly lifts her hand. He peers at it.
Who did this? Who bit you?
YOUNG WOMAN A Doberman Pinscher.
OFFICER Which one?
Pause.
Which one?
Pause.
Sergeant!
SERGEANT steps forward.
SERGEANT Sir!
OFFICER Look at this woman’s hand. I think the thumb is going to come off. (TO ELDERLY WOMAN.) Who did this?
She stares at him.
Who did this?
YOUNG WOMAN A big dog.
OFFICER What was his name?
Pause.
What was his name?
Pause.
Every dog has a name! They answer to their name. They are given a name by their parents and that is their name, that is their name! Before they bite, they state their name. It’s a formal procedure. They state their name and then they bite. What was his name? If you tell me one of our dogs bit this woman without giving his name I will have
that dog shot!
Silence.
Now – attention! Silence and attention! Sergeant!
SERGEANT Sir?
OFFICER Take any complaints.
SERGEANT Any complaints? Has anyone got any complaints?
YOUNG WOMAN We were told to be here at nine o’clock this morning.
SERGEANT Right. Quite right. Nine o’clock this morning. Absolutely right. What’s your complaint?
YOUNG WOMAN We were here at nine o’clock this morning. It’s now five o’clock. We have been standing here for eight hours. In the snow. Your men let Dobermann pinschers frighten us. One bit this woman’s hand.
OFFICER What was the name of this dog?
She looks at him.
YOUNG WOMAN I don’t know his name.
SERGEANT With permission sir?
OFFICER Go ahead.
SERGEANT Your husbands, your sons, your fathers, these men you have been waiting to see, are shithouses. They are enemies of the State. They are shithouses.
The OFFICER steps towards the WOMEN.
OFFICER Now hear this. You are mountain people. You hear me? Your language is dead. It is forbidden. It is not permitted to speak your mountain language in this place. You cannot speak your language to your men. It is not permitted. Do you understand? You may not speak it. It is outlawed. You may only speak the language of the capital. That is the only language permitted in this place. You will be badly punished if you attempt to speak your mountain language in this place. This is a military decree. It is the law. Your language is forbidden. It is dead. No one is allowed to speak your language. Your language no longer exists. Any questions?