Brian Friel Plays 1 (58 page)

MANUS:
What headline did my father set you?

BRIDGET:
‘It’s easier to stamp out learning than to recall it.’

JIMMY:
Book Three, the
Agricola
of Tacitus.

BRIDGET:
God but you’re a dose.

MANUS:
Can you do it?

BRIDGET:
There. Is it bad? Will he ate me?

MANUS:
It’s very good. Keep your elbow in closer to your side. Doalty?

DOALTY:
I’m at the seven-times table. I’m perfect, skipper.

(
MANUS
moves
to
SARAH
.)

MANUS:
Do you understand those sums?

(
SARAH
nods:
Yes.
MANUS
leans
down
to
her
ear.
)

MANUS:
My name is Sarah.

(
MANUS
goes
to
MAIRE
.
While
he
is
talking
to
her
the
others
swop
books,
talk
quietly,
etc.
)

MANUS:
Can I help you? What are you at?

MAIRE:
Map of America. (
Pause.
)
The passage money came last Friday.

MANUS:
You never told me that.

MAIRE:
Because I haven’t seen you since, have I?

MANUS:
You don’t want to go. You said that yourself.

MAIRE:
There’s ten below me to be raised and no man in the house. What do you suggest?

MANUS:
Do you want to go?

MAIRE:
Did you apply for that job in the new national school?

MANUS:
No.

MAIRE:
You said you would.

MANUS:
I said I might.

MAIRE:
When it opens, this is finished: nobody’s going to pay to go to a hedge-school.

MANUS:
I know that and I … (
He
breaks
off
because
he
sees
SARAH
,
obviously
listening,
at
his
shoulder.
She
moves
away
again.
)
I was thinking that maybe I could …

MAIRE:
It’s £56 a year you’re throwing away.

MANUS:
I can’t apply for it.

MAIRE:
You
promised
me you would.

MANUS:
My father has applied for it.

MAIRE:
He has not!

MANUS:
Day before yesterday.

MAIRE:
For God’s sake, sure you know he’d never –

MANUS:
I couldn’t – I can’t go in against him.

(
MAIRE
looks
at
him
for
a
second.
Then
: –)

MAIRE:
Suit yourself. (
To
BRIDGET
) I saw your Seamus heading off to the Port fair early this morning.

BRIDGET:
And wait till you hear this – I forgot to tell you this. He said that as soon as he crossed over the gap at Cnoc na Mona – just beyond where the soldiers are making the maps – the sweet smell was everywhere.

DOALTY:
You never told me that.

BRIDGET:
It went out of my head.

DOALTY:
He saw the crops in Port?

BRIDGET:
Some.

MANUS:
How did the tops look?

BRIDGET:
Fine – I think.

DOALTY:
In flower?

BRIDGET:
I don’t know. I think so. He didn’t say.

MANUS:
Just the sweet smell – that’s all?

BRIDGET:
They say that’s the way it snakes in, don’t they? First the smell; and then one morning the stalks are all black and limp.

DOALTY:
Are you stupid? It’s the rotting stalks makes the sweet smell for God’s sake. That’s what the smell is – rotting stalks.

MAIRE:
Sweet smell! Sweet smell! Every year at this time somebody comes back with stories of the sweet smell. Sweet God, did the potatoes ever fail in Baile Beag? Well, did they ever – ever? Never! There was never blight here. Never. Never. But we’re always sniffing about for it, aren’t we? – looking for disaster. The rents are going to go up again – the harvest’s going to be lost – the herring have gone away for ever – there’s going to be evictions. Honest to God, some of you people aren’t happy unless you’re miserable and you’ll not be right content until you’re dead!

DOALTY:
Bloody right, Maire. And sure St Colmcille prophesied there’d never be blight here. He said:

And sure that’ll never be. So we’re all right. Seven threes are twenty-one; seven fours are twenty-eight; seven fives are forty-nine – Hi, Jimmy, do you fancy my chances as boss of the new national school?

JIMMY:
What’s that? – what’s that?

DOALTY:
Agh, g’way back home to Greece, son.

MAIRE:
You ought to apply, Doalty.

DOALTY:
D’you think so? Cripes, maybe I will. Hah!

BRIDGET:
Did you know that you start at the age of six and you have to stick at it until you’re twelve at least – no matter how smart you are or how much you know.

DOALTY:
Who told you that yarn?

BRIDGET:
And every child from every house has to go all day, every day, summer or winter. That’s the law.

DOALTY:
I’ll tell you something – nobody’s going to go near them – they’re not going to take on – law or no law.

BRIDGET:
And everything’s free in them. You pay for nothing except the books you use; that’s what our Seamus says.

DOALTY:
‘Our Seamus’. Sure your Seamus wouldn’t pay anyway. She’s making this all up.

BRIDGET:
Isn’t that right, Manus?

MANUS:
I think so.

BRIDGET:
And from the very first day you go, you’ll not hear one word of Irish spoken. You’ll be taught to speak English and every subject will be taught through English and everyone’ll end up as cute as the Buncrana people.

SARAH
suddenly
grunts
and
mimes
a
warning
that
the
master
is
coming.
The
atmosphere
changes.
Sudden
business.
Heads
down.
)

DOALTY:
He’s here, boys. Cripes, he’ll make yella meal out of me for those bloody tables.

BRIDGET:
Have you any extra chalk, Manus?

MAIRE:
And the atlas for me.

(
DOALTY
goes
to
MAIRE
who
is
sitting
on
a
stool
at
the
back.
)

DOALTY:
Swop you seats.

MAIRE:
Why?

DOALTY:
There’s an empty one beside the Infant Prodigy.

MAIRE:
I’m fine here.

DOALTY:
Please, Maire. I want to jouk in the back here.

(
MAIRE
rises.
)

God love you. (
Aloud
)
Anyone got a bloody table-book?

Cripes, I’m wrecked.

(
SARAH
gives
him
one.
)

God, I’m dying about you.

(
In
his
haste
to
get
to
the
back
seat,
DOALTY
bumps
into
BRIDGET
who
is
kneeling
on
the
floor
and
writing
laboriously
on
a
slate
resting
on
top
of
a
bench-seat.
)

BRIDGET:
Watch where you’re going, Doalty!

(
DOALTY
gooses
BRIDGET
.
She
squeals.
Now
the
quiet
hum
of
work:
JIMMY
reading
Homer
in
a
low
voice
;
BRIDGET
copying
her
headline;
MAIRE
studying
the
atlas
;
DOALTY,
his
eyes
shut
tight,
mouthing
his
tables
;
SARAH
doing
sums.
After
a
few
seconds:
–

BRIDGET:
Is this ‘g’ right, Manus? How do you put a tail on it?

DOALTY:
Will you shut up! I can’t concentrate!

(
A
few
more
seconds
of
work.
Then
DOALTY
opens
his
eyes
and
looks
around.
)

False alarm, boys. The bugger’s not coming at all. Sure the bugger’s hardly fit to walk.

(
And
immediately
HUGH
enters.
A
large
man,
with
residual
dignity,
shabbily
dressed,
carrying
a
stick.
He
has,
as
always,
a
large
quantity
of
drink
taken,
but
he
is
by
no
means
drunk.
He
is
in
his
early
sixties.
)

HUGH:
Adsum
,
Doalty,
adsum.
Perhaps not in
sobrietate perfecta
but adequately
sobrius
to overhear your quip. Vesperal salutations to you all.

(
Various
responses.
)

JIMMY:
Ave
,
Hugh.

HUGH:
James. (
He
removes
his
hat
and
coat
and
hands
them
and
his
stick
to
MANUS
,
as
if
to
a
footman.
)
Apologies for my late arrival: we were celebrating the baptism of Nellie Ruadh’s baby.

BRIDGET:
(
Innocently
)
What name did she put on it, Master?

HUGH:
Was it Eamon? Yes, it was Eamon.

BRIDGET:
Eamon Donal from Tor! Cripes!

HUGH:
And after the
caerimonia
nominationis –
Maire?

MAIRE:
The ritual of naming.

HUGH:
Indeed – we then had a few libations to mark the occasion. Altogether very pleasant. The derivation of the word ‘baptize’? – where are my Greek scholars? Doalty?

DOALTY:
Would it be – ah – ah –

HUGH:
Too slow. James?

JIMMY:
‘
Baptizein
’
–
to
dip or immerse.

HUGH:
Indeed – our friend Pliny Minor speaks of the ‘
baptisterium
’
–
the cold bath.

DOALTY:
Master.

HUGH:
Doalty?

DOALTY:
I suppose you could talk then about baptizing a sheep at sheep-dipping, could you?

(
Laughter.
Comments.
)

HUGH:
Indeed – the precedent is there – the day you were appropriately named Doalty – seven nines?

DOALTY:
What’s that, Master?

HUGH:
Seven times nine?

DOALTY:
Seven nines – seven nines – seven times nine – seven times nine are – cripes, it’s on the tip of my tongue, Master – I knew it for sure this morning – funny that’s the only one that foxes me –

BRIDGET:
(
Prompt
)
Sixty-three.

DOALTY:
What’s wrong with me: sure seven nines are fifty-three, Master.

HUGH:
Sophocles from Colonus would agree with Doalty Dan Doalty from Tulach Alainn: ‘To know nothing is the sweetest life.’ Where’s Sean Beag?