A: Come, Morvan, calm yourself, letters to admiratrixes, we all know what they’re worth. No need to take everything literally.
B: [Violently, slapping down his hand on the pile of papers.] There’s the record, closed and final. That’s what we’re going on. Too late now to start saying that [slapping to his left] is right and that [slapping to his right] wrong. You’re a pain in the arse.
[Pause.]
A: Good. Let us sum up.
B: We do nothing else.
B: A black future, an unpardonable past–so far as he can remember, inducements to linger on all equally preposterous and the best advice dead letter. Agreed?
A: An heirless aunt preposterous?
A: [Warmly.] He’s not the interested type. [Sternly.] One has to consider the client’s temperament. To accumulate documents is not enough.
B: [Vexed, slapping on his papers.] Here, as far as I’m concerned the client is here and nowhere else.
A: All right. Is there a single reference there to personal gain? That old aunt, was he ever as much as commonly civil to her? And that dairy-woman, come to that, in all the years he’s been going to her for his bit of cheddar, was he ever once wanting in respect? [Pause.] No, Morvan, look you–
[Feeble miaow. Pause. Second miaow, louder.]
B: That must be the cat.
A: Sounds like it. [Long pause.] So, agreed? Black future, unpardonable–
B: As you wish. [He starts to tidy back the papers in the briefcase. Wearily.] Let him jump.
A: No further exhibit?
B: Let him jump, let him jump. [He finishes tidying, gets up with the briefcase in his hand.] Let’s go.
[A consults his watch.]
A: It is now… ten… twenty-five. We have no train before eleven twenty. Let us kill the time here, talking of this and that.
B: What do you mean, eleven twenty? Ten fifty.
[A takes a time-table from his pocket, opens it at relevant page and hands it to B.]
A: Where it’s marked with a cross, [B consults the time-table, hands it back to A and sits down again. Long pause, A clears his throat. Pause. Impassionately.] How many unfortunates would be so still today if they had known in time to what extent they were so? [Pause.] Remember Smith?
B: Smith? [Pause.] Never knew anyone of that name.
A: Yes you did! A big fat redhair. Always to be seen hanging round World’s End. Hadn’t done a hand’s turn for years. Reputed to have lost his genitals in a shooting accident. His own double-barrel that went off between his legs in a moment of abstraction, just as he was getting set to let fly at a quail.
B: Stranger to me.
A: Well to make a long story short he had his head in the oven when they came to tell him his wife had gone under an ambulance. Hell, says he, I can’t miss that, and now he has a steady job in Marks and Spencer’s. [Pause.] How is Mildred?
B: [Disgustedly.] Oh you know– [Brief burst of birdsong. Pause.] Good God!
A: Philomel!
B: Oh that put the heart across me!
A: Hsst! [Low.] Hark hark! [Pause. Second brief burst, louder. Pause.] It’s in the room! [He gets up, moves away on tiptoe.] Come on, let’s have a look.
B: I’m scared!
[He gets up none the less and follows cautiously in the wake of A. A advances on tiptoe upstage right, B tiptoes after.]
A: [Turning.] Hsst! [They advance, halt in the corner, A strikes a match, holds it above his head. Pause. Low.] She’s not here. [He drops the match and crosses the stage on tiptoe followed on tiptoe by B. They pass before the window, halt in the corner upstage left. Match as before. Pause.] Here she is!
B: [Recoiling.] Where?
[A squats. Pause.]
B: Lend me a hand.
B: Let her be! [A straightens up painfully, clutching to his belly a large birdcage covered with a green silk cloth fringed with beads. He starts to stagger with it towards the table.] Give it here.
[B helps to carry the cage. Holding it between them they advance warily towards A’s table.]
A: [Breathing hard.] Hold on a second. [They halt. Pause.] Let’s go. [They move on, set down cage gently on the table. A lifts cautiously the cloth on the side away from the audience, peers. Pause.] Show a light.
[B takes up the lamp and shines it inside the cage. They peer, stooped. Long pause.]
B: There’s one dead.
[They peer.]
A: Have you a pencil? [B hands him a long pencil. A pokes it between the bars of the cage. Pause.] Yes. [He withdraws the pencil, puts it in his pocket.]
B: Hi!
[A gives him back his pencil. They peer. A takes B’s hand and changes its position.]
A: There.
[They peer.]
B: Is it the cock or the hen?
B: The hen. See how drab she is.
B: [Revolted.] And he goes on singing! [Pause.] There’s lovebirds for you!
A: Lovebirds! [Guffaw.] Ah Morvan, you’d be the death of me if I were sufficiently alive! Lovebirds! [Guffaw.] Finches, pinhead! Look at that lovely little green rump! And the blue cap! And the white bars! And the gold breast! [Didactic.] Note moreover the characteristic warble, there can be no mistaking it. [Pause.] Oh you pretty little pet, oh you bonny wee birdie! [Pause. Glum.] And to think all that is organic waste! All that splendour!
[They peer.]
B: They have no seed. [Pause.] No water. [Pointing] What’s that there?
A: That? [Pause. Slow, toneless.] An old cuttle-bone.
B: Cuttle-bone?
A: Cuttle-bone.
[He lets the cloth fall back. Pause.]
B: Come, Bertrand, don’t, there is nothing we can do. [A takes up the cage and goes with it upstage left, B puts down the lamp and hastens after him.] Give it here.
A: Leave it, leave it! [He advances to the corner, followed by B, and puts down the cage where he found it. He straightens up and moves back towards his table, still followed by B. A stops short.] Will you have done dogging me! Do you want me to jump too? [Pause, B goes to A’s table, takes up briefcase and chair, goes to his table and sits with back to window. He switches on his lamp, switches it off again immediately.] How end? [Long pause, A goes to window; strikes a match, holds it high and inspects C’s face. The match burns out, he throws it out of window.] Hi! Take a look at this! [B does not move, A strikes another match, holds it high and inspects C’s face.] Come on! Quick! [B does not move. The match burns out, A lets it fall.] Well I’ll be…!
[A takes out his handkerchief and raises it timidly towards C’s face.]
CURTAIN
Embers
A piece for radio
Written in English and completed at the beginning of 1959. First published in Evergreen Review (Nov./Dec. 1959). First broadcast on the BBC Third Programme on 24 June 1959.
Sea scarcely audible.
HENRY’s boots on shingle. He halts.
Sea a little louder.
HENRY: On. [Sea. Voice louder.] On! [He moves on. Boots on shingle. As he goes.] Stop. [Boots on shingle. As he goes, louder.] Stop! [He halts. Sea a little louder.] Down. [Sea. Voice louder.] Down! [Slither of shingle as he sits. Sea, still faint, audible throughout what follows whenever pause indicated.] Who is beside me now? [Pause.] An old man, blind and foolish. [Pause.] My father, back from the dead, to be with me. [Pause.] As if he hadn’t died. [Pause.] No, simply back from the dead, to be with me, in this strange place. [Pause.] Can he hear me? [Pause.] Yes, he must hear me. [Pause.] To answer me? [Pause.] No, he doesn’t answer me. [Pause.] Just be with me. [Pause.] That sound you hear is the sea. [Pause. Louder.] I say that sound you hear is the sea, we are sitting on the strand. [Pause.] I mention it because the sound is so strange, so unlike the sound of the sea, that if you didn’t see what it was you wouldn’t know what it was. [Pause.] Hooves! [Pause. Louder.] Hooves! [Sound of hooves walking on hard road. They die rapidly away. Pause.] Again! [Hooves as before. Pause. Excitedly.] Train it to mark time! Shoe it with steel and tie it up in the ya
rd, have it stamp all day! [Pause.] A ten-ton mammoth back from the dead, shoe it with steel and have it tramp the world down! Listen to it! [Pause.] Listen to the light now, you always loved light, not long past noon and all the shore in shadow and the sea out as far as the island. [Pause.] You would never live this side of the bay, you wanted the sun on the water for that evening bathe you took once too often. But when I got your money I moved across, as perhaps you may know. [Pause.] We never found your body, you know, that held up probate an unconscionable time, they said there was nothing to prove you hadn’t run away from us all and alive and well under a false name in the Argentine for example, that grieved mother greatly. [Pause.] I’m like you in that, can’t stay away from it, but I never go in, no, I think the last time I went in was with you. [Pause.] Just be near it. [Pause.] Today it’s calm, but I often hear it above in the house and walking the roads and start talking, oh just loud enough to drown it, nobody notices. [Pause.] But I’d be talking now no matter where I was, I once went to Switzerland to get away from the cursed thing and never stopped all the time I was there. [Pause.] I usen’t to need anyone, just to myself, stories, there was a great one about an old fellow called Bolton, I never finished it, I never finished any of them, I never finished anything, everything always went on for ever. [Pause.] Bolton [Pause. Louder.] Bolton! [Pause.] There before the fire. [Pause.] Before the fire with all the shutters … no, hangings, hangings, all the hangings drawn and the light, no light, only the light of the fire, sitting there in the … no, standing, standing there on the hearthrug in the dark before the fire with his arms on the chimney-piece and his head on his arms, standing there waiting in the dark before the fire in his old red dressing-gown and no sound in the house of any kind, only the sound of the fire. [Pause.] Standing there in his old red dressing-gown might go on fire any minute like when he was a child, no, that was his pyjamas, standing there waiting in the dark, no light, only the light of the fire, and no sound of any kind, only the fire, an old man in great trouble. [Pause.] Ring then at the door and over he goes to the window and looks out between the hangings, fine old chap, very big and strong, bright winter’s night, snow everywhere, bitter cold, white world, cedar boughs bending under load and then as the arm goes up to ring again recognizes … Holloway … [Long pause.] … yes, Holloway, recognizes Holloway, goes down and opens. [Pause.] Outside all still, not a sound, dog’s chain maybe or a bough groaning if you stood there listening long enough, white world, Holloway with his little black bag, not a sound, bitter cold, full moon small and white, crooked trail of Holloway’s galoshes, Vega in the Lyre very green. [Pause.] Vega in the Lyre very green. [Pause.] Following conversation then on the step, no, in the room, back in the room, following conversation then back in the room, Holloway: ‘My dear Bolton, it is now past midnight, if you would be good enough—’, gets no further, Bolton: ‘Please! PLEASE!’ Dead silence then, not a sound, only the fire, all coal, burning down now, Holloway on the hearthrug trying to toast his arse, Bolton, where’s Bolton, no light, only the fire, Bolton at the window his back to the hangings, holding them a little apart with his hand looking out, white world, even the spire, white to the vane, most unusual, silence in the house, not a sound, only the fire, no flames now, embers. [Pause.] Embers. [Pause.] Shifting, lapsing, furtive like, dreadful sound, Holloway on the rug, fine old chap, six foot, burly, legs apart, hands behind his back holding up the tails of his old macfarlane, Bolton at the window, grand old figure in his old red dressing-gown, back against the hangings, hand stretched out widening the chink, looking out, white world great trouble, not a sound, only the embers, sound of dying, dying glow, Holloway, Bolton, Bolton, Holloway, old men, great trouble, white world, not a sound. [Pause.] Listen to it! [Pause.] Close your eyes and listen to it, what would you think it was? [Pause. Vehement.] A drip! A drip! [Sound of drip, rapidly amplified, suddenly cut off.] Again! [Drip again. Amplification begins.] No! [Drip cut off. Pause.] Father! [Pause. Agitated.] Stories, stories, years and years of stories, till the need came on me, for someone, to be with me, anyone, a stranger, to talk to, imagine he hears me, years of that, and then, now, for someone who … knew me, in the old days, anyone, to be with me, imagine he hears me, what I am, now. [Pause.] No good either. [Pause.] Not there either. [Pause.] Try again. [Pause.] White world, not a sound. [Pause.] Holloway. [Pause.] Holloway says he’ll go, damned if he’ll sit up all night before a black grate, doesn’t understand, call a man out, an old friend, in the cold and dark, an old friend, urgent need, bring the bag, then not a word, no explanation no heat, no light, Bolton: ‘Please! PLEASE!’ Holloway, no refreshment, no welcome, chilled to the medulla, catch his death, can’t understand, strange treatment, old friend, says he’ll go, doesn’t move, not a sound, fire dying, white beam from window, ghastly scene, wishes to God he hadn’t come, no good, fire out, bitter cold, great trouble, white world, not a sound, no good. [Pause.] No good. [Pause.] Can’t do it. [Pause.] Listen to it! [Pause.] Father! [Pause.] You wouldn’t know me now, you’d be sorry you ever had me, but you were that already, a washout, that’s the last I heard from you, a washout. [Pause. Imitating father’s voice.] ‘Are you coming for a dip?’ ‘No.’ ‘Come on, come on.’ ‘No.’ Glare, stump to door, turn, glare. ‘A washout, that’s all you are, a washout!’ [Violent slam of door. Pause.] Again! [Slam. Pause.] Slam life shut like that! [Pause.] Washout. [Pause.] Wish to Christ she had. [Pause.] Never met Ada, did you, or did you, I can’t remember, no matter, no one’d know her now. [Pause.] What turned her against me do you think, the child I suppose, horrid little creature, wish to God we’d never had her, I use to walk with her in the fields, Jesus that was awful, she wouldn’t let go my hand and I mad to talk. ‘Run along now, Addie, and look at the lambs.’ [Imitating ADDIE’s voice.] ‘No papa.’ ‘Go on now, go on.’ [Plaintive.] ‘No papa.’ [Violent.] ‘Go on with you when you’re told and look at the lambs!’ [ADDIE’s loud wail. Pause.] Ada too, conversation with her, that was something, that’s what hell will be like, small chat to the babbling of Lethe about the good old days when we wished we were dead. [Pause.] Price of margarine fifty years ago. [Pause.] And now. [Pause. With solemn indignation.] Price of blueband now! [Pause.] Father! [Pause.] Tired of talking to you. [Pause.] That was always the way, walk all over the mountains with you talking and talking and then suddenly mum and home in misery and not a word to a soul for weeks, sulky little bastard, better off dead. [Long pause.] Ada. [Pause. Louder.] Ada!
ADA: [Low remote voice throughout.] Yes.
HENRY: Have you been there long?
ADA: Some little time. [Pause.] Why do you stop, don’t mind me. [Pause.] Do you want me to go away? [Pause.] Where is Addie?
[Pause.]
HENRY: With her music master. [Pause.] Are you going to answer me today?
ADA: You shouldn’t be sitting on the cold stones, they’re bad for your growths. Raise yourself up till I slip my shawl under you. [Pause.] Is that better?
HENRY: No comparison, no comparison. [Pause.] Are you going to sit down beside me?
ADA: Yes. [No sound as she sits.] Like that? [Pause.] Ordo you prefer like that? [Pause.] You don’t care. [Pause.] Chilly enough I imagine, I hope you put on your jaegers. [Pause.] Did you put on your jaegers, Henry?
HENRY: What happened was this, I put them on and then I took them off again and then I put them on again and then I took them off again and then I took them on again and then I–
ADA: Have you them on now?
HENRY: I don’t know. [Pause.] Hooves! [Pause. Louder.] Hooves! [Sound of hooves walking on hard road. They die rapidly away.] Again!
[Hooves as before. Pause.]
ADA: Did you hear them?
HENRY: Not well.
ADA: Galloping?
HENRY: No. [Pause.] Could a horse mark time?
[Pause.]
ADA: I’m not sure that I know what you mean.
HENRY: [Irritably.] Could a horse be trained to stand still and mark time with its four legs?
ADA:
Oh. [Pause.] The ones I used to fancy all did. [She laughs. Pause.] Laugh, Henry, it’s not every day I crack a joke. [Pause.] Laugh, Henry do that for me.
HENRY: You wish me to laugh?
ADA: You laughed so charmingly once, I think that’s what first attracted me to you. That and your smile. [Pause.] Come on, it will be like old times.
[Pause. He tries to laugh, fails.]
HENRY: Perhaps I should begin with the smile. [Pause for smile.] Did that attract you? [Pause.] Now I’ll try again. [Long horrible laugh.] Any of the old charm there?
ADA: Oh Henry!
[Pause.]
HENRY: Listen to it! [Pause.] Lips and claws! [Pause.] Get away from it! Where it couldn’t get at me! The Pampas! What?
ADA: Calm yourself.
HENRY: And I live on the brink of it! Why? Professional obligations? [Brief laugh] Reasons of health? [Brief laugh.] Family ties? [Brief laugh.] A woman? [Laugh in which she joins.] Some old grave I cannot tear myself away from? [Pause.] Listen to it! What is it like?
ADA: It is like an old sound I used to hear. [Pause.] It is like another time, in the same place. [Pause.] It was rough, the spray came flying over us. [Pause.] Strange it should have been rough then [Pause.] And calm now.
[Pause.]
HENRY: Let us get up and go.
ADA: Go? Where? And Addie? She would be very distressed if she came and found you had gone without her. [Pause.] What do you suppose is keeping her?
[Smart blow of cylindrical ruler on piano case. Unsteadily, ascending and descending, ADDIE plays scale of A Flat Major, hands first together, then reversed. Pause.]
MUSIC MASTER: [Italian accent.] Santa Cecilia!
[Pause.]
ADDIE: Will I play my piece now please?
[Pause. MUSIC MASTER beats two bars of waltz time with ruler on piano case. ADDIE plays opening bars of Chopin’s 5th Waltz in A Flat Major, MUSIC MASTER beating time lightly with ruler as she plays. In first chord of bass, bar 5, she plays E instead of F. Resounding blow of ruler on piano case. ADDIE stops playing.]
The Complete Dramatic Works of Samuel Beckett Page 22