Split (1)

train · 634k rows

text stringlengths 12 22.5k
No? But why? For starters, there's my work. You're saying an actress can't marry? Some can, of course. But each of us has only so much to give, haven't we? And just imagine... on the stage I can commit suicide or murder. I can go mad, sacrifice myself for love... save men or ruin them. Compared to all that I suppose marriage does sound rather dull. You seem to have forgotten that there is an excellent reason to marry. Falling in love. That. Of course that. What could be better? Almost anything, I think. The truth is, if you love people, they kill you. If you need people, they kill you. So I don't want to need anyone, not ever. Very sad. It's what I want most of all. Then I hope you find it. You're awfully certain about things, aren't you? Why not wait and give life a chance... see what develops? Nothing will, I can assure you. What about friendship? At least is that allowed? Only if you feed me. I'm starving. Then you'd best start doing your share, hadn't you? So, my Ralph... the children of the rose.
I very much like this Justine. Most entertaining. But one wonders what hurts could be so deep... that she must make such an effort to keep them hidden. Rather sad. It is easier to be fond of Dane. You're very... taken with Dane... aren't you? Sometimes when I watch him... it's like watching my own self at his age. We'd best get you in bed. My beautiful bed, in which I shall die... one of these fine days. And not even a Pope's bed. But there still may be time... for you. Now, Vittorio. Good evening. Will you tell Herr Hartheim that I'm here? I'm sorry I'm late. Bloody London traffic. How are you? How's Germany? How's Dane? I'm fine, Germany's cold... and Dane's dying to see you in Rome when your play's finished here. Herzen. You look marvelous. Thanks, but the black's to match my mood. I trust you've seen my reviews. I doubt this evening will cheer you up. It's all politicians and diplomats. God. –And their little wives. –If you'd rather not... Nonsense, darling.
I've been playing hostess to you for three years. I shall do so again, brilliantly. What are friends for? –You're sure? –Lay on, Macduff. Good evening. How delightful to see you again. You just look stunning, simply stunning. Regarding the election of the new Roman pontiff... we, of the College of Cardinals in conclave... do promise and swear... that we will most religiously keep secret all those things... which in any manner pertain to that election. Dane, how good to find you here. You must've been waiting a very long time. –Are you all right, Father? –Quite all right. Just rather hot work... this business of electing a Pope. But I think we've done very well. I think he may surprise them all... our new Pope John. Not the most conventional of choices. I must say you're very contained for a seminary student... who's just witnessed one of the world's greatest events. There have been rumors... That I was among those favored for election? Yes, I know. The strange thing is I feel no regret. It's a pity Vittorio couldn't hear me say that. He had such a taste for irony. You still miss him very much, don't you? Very much. I find it appropriate that I should have his quarters now. I've always followed in his footsteps. He was almost like a father to me. As you are to me.
You make me very happy, Dane. If I have no regrets about today... it's because my ambitions now are all for you. I must admit to hoping that you'll follow in my footsteps in the Church. I've a long way to go before I'm even made a priest... and I'm far from knowing yet how best I may serve God. Of course. But I already see such promise in you. What more could I want than to help you all I can? Rain, you're supposed to herd the poor beasts, not scare them to death. I thought you were a leader. Of men, Herzen, of men. Don't listen to her. You can have a place here anytime. I can see it now: Rainer Hartheim, head cocky. Cocky? What's a cocky? Maybe you should accept Uncle Bob's job offer for the sake of the outfit. It's awfully dashing on you. Do you know I've never seen you in anything but a suit and tie? I've always been dashing. You just never noticed. I'm so glad you came home with me. Thank you. Justine, I've already told you. I'm not going to Dane's ordination... and I'd rather not discuss it further. I've come 12·000 miles... and interrupted my work to discuss it. Pity you've made such a sacrifice for something that needn't concern you. Dane's counting on you to come. Surely you can understand that. I wish you'd let it alone!
I'll talk with Dane when he comes home for Christmas. What if he doesn't come? He won't be a seminary student with long vacations any more. He'll be a priest. He'll come. Mother, I don't think you understand. There's no place as exciting for Dane right now as Rome... especially with Vatican II going on, and Ralph the aide to Pope John. Ralph will see that Dane has a part of it. Justine, please! I have my reasons. Have you, Mom? I hope they're damn good ones. I hope they're worth hurting Dane as deeply as you're going to. You're really something, Mother. If it were my ordination, I would understand it. But Dane's supposedly the one you love. God! I'm sorry, Mr Hartheim. I'm afraid my daughter and I never understood one another very well. And I'm sorry you've come 12·000 miles for nothing, too. My reasons for coming are rather different. I've heard about Drogheda for years from Dane and Justine... and from the Cardinal. I am sorry that you will miss the ordination, Mrs O'Neill. The Cardinal speaks of you so very often. And he has been quite ill, you know, this winter. I hope that you will give my love to Ralph... and to my son for me. I've never been very clear about your relationship to Ralph. I was a young soldier when I met him... quite by accident. I had come to St Peter's to pray. I ended up talking with him through the night... all about my hopes for Hitler's downfall... my dreams of rebuilding a new and better Germany... single-handedly, of course.
You've certainly been a part of that effort, haven't you? At a cost, yes. I'm afraid I used my wife... rather badly in the process. I was quite the ambitious idealist, you see. I thought such noble ends as mine justified any means. When Cardinal de Bricassart learned of this... he told me something which has been very useful to me since. That there are no ambitions noble enough to justify breaking someone's heart. He said that, did he? Yes. You were kind to your wife in the end. You got rid of her. Whereas Jussie can keep you... because she'll never let you get under her skin. Unfortunately, you may be correct. I'm no longer an idealist, Mrs Cleary. But I do still have some dreams. And I have patience. The Father anointed Jesus Christ as Lord... through the power of the Holy Spirit. May Jesus keep you worthy... of offering sacrifice to God... and of sanctifying the Christian assembly. Peace be with you. And also with you. And also with you. Where are you, Herzen? Just... Rather a day, what? Thanks for being such a dear with the uncles all week. Is Dane traveling back to Australia with them? No, he's gonna spend a few days in Greece first. He always wanted to do that. I think you are... rather disappointed about Dane's decision. No, not really.
No. It'll thrill Mom at least. Dane is what she's always wanted. I never was, God knows. But then I assume you got the picture when we were there. One can hardly blame Mom, given the way I am. That doesn't sound like you. And I would have you no other way. I was just your age... when, as a priest, I came to Gilly. But for such different reasons. I was forced to go, as penance for my pride. You choose it, out of humility and love. But it is very difficult... because I love you, too. You once said to me that becoming a priest for you wasn't a gift... but something hard-won by sacrifice and suffering. I understand that better, leaving you. It is a sacrifice... giving up all the things you could have made possible for me here. But I think I will feel closer to God... and better able to do his work in a simpler place. And in choosing Gilly, I can make my mother happy. She deserves that. Yes. She deserves that. You know, I had great hopes for you... great ambitions... that you would go as far as I in the Church. Perhaps even farther. But you have made me see... what I only glimpsed long ago about my ambitions for myself. That they had less to do with God's will... than with my own. The truth is you have always been far beyond me. I'm so proud of you, Dane. I doubt that a man could be prouder of his own son. Thank you, Father. I hope I may be truly worthy of that.
But I wonder... if the time comes when I must truly suffer... can I accept it? Can I put myself into God's hands... and not fight his will? You must never doubt it. Because you are that rarest of things: a truly holy man. You don't really know how I am. You only know what I let you see. –You insult me. –I don't mean to. But I'm a better actress than you think. I'm not about to let you into the dark recesses of my mind... and risk scaring you away. –I need you too much. –Not only insulting, but selfish. We knew that, didn't we? Anyway, I'm not disappointed about Dane. I think he's mad to give up Rome... but Drogheda's home to him. He's always belonged to it in a way I never could. That's no failing on your part. If you don't belong to Drogheda, it's because it simply isn't you. Sometimes I wonder where I do belong. Sometimes I feel a little lost. Usually, in fact, unless I'm actually performing. Do you think there's such a thing as off-stage fright? It's very simple, Justine. –You belong with me. –Oh, really? In Bonn? Do grow up. What do you think, I'd want to turn you into a Hausfrau? Obviously for people like us... it isn't a question of place, it's a question of love.
I've grown to love you very much. I think you love me, too. It could never work. I told you that from the first. –But, Herzen... –No, I can't. You'll get it wet. "As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods. They kill us for their sport." –Poor Lear. –Poor me, you mean. Fancy me in the role of Cordelia. How's the water? It's a pretty strong undertow, but it's wonderful. Communing with mighty Neptune. Really, Father O'Neill, too pagan of you. You'll be excommunicated. Your soul's already in mortal danger as it is. Don't tell me you haven't noticed those two dying for you. He's cute. I wonder how we can meet him. They'd be after you like a shark if I weren't protecting you. I'll tell you something I have noticed, sister. I've noticed that you haven't given me a straight answer... as to what you're doing here in Greece with me. Now, you can tell me anything, my child. Remember, I am a priest. All right. It's Rain. –He wants me to marry him. –That's wonderful!
Jus, I hoped it would be something like this. You did? The man's been in love with you for ages. But I can't marry him. I've always said I'd never marry anyone. This is hardly the time to stand on principle. I thought you'd understand at least. –I'm sorry. But if you love him... –But that's just it! I don't think I can love anyone. I don't think I've got it in me. You know how it's always been with me. I know you've always been able to love me. That's different. You're my brother. Besides, if I love you it's because you've always accepted me, warts and all. Because I'm such a saint? Isn't that how it goes? Saint Dane? Look, Jus. All our lives, you've always known that I was the favorite. A lot of sisters might have hated me for it. But you never gave me anything but love. That's because... I always used to deny it when you said that Mom didn't love you. Always used to imply... that somehow if you just tried harder everything would be all right. Because I couldn't bear the thought of Mom being unloving. I couldn't stand the guilt of getting your share as well as mine. The truth is that Mom didn't love you the way she should.
She didn't show you the love you should have had. I know it's hard for her, knowing that. It isn't that you can't love. It is that you've been made to feel that you don't deserve to be loved. But you do. You do. Jussie! Are you coming? Where were you all morning? Rain's coming. Right now. Really? I'll be right up. Go commune with mighty Neptune awhile, all right? It'll be all right. Hello. Where's our new Father O'Neill? I sent him out for a dip. He'll be up later. You see how easily you command the fates of your men. I hardly think I commanded you to come. But you must admit your wire was much too intriguing to resist. "Did you mean it, Rain?" Did I mean what, Herzen? That you love me. Is that what all this is about? Why else would you have come? Why else? To salvage what I could of friendship. I'll settle for that, if I must.
Look, sport, you're the one who changed the status quo between us, not I. And you want what now, an apology for that? If I offered one, you'd throw me out like a smelly, old rag. –I can do that yet, mate. –But you won't... because you need me to keep you on the hop. –Is that why you came? –What do you think? I think you're a prize sadist. Say you love me again, you big kraut, and watch me spit in your eye! And you would, too. You'd love to have another chance to humiliate me... for the unpardonable sin of finding you worth loving. You can't stand it, can you? It goes against everything you believe about yourself. God, Rain. I'm sorry. I was going to tell you that I love you and that I want you. I'm such an ass. I had this marvelous seduction scene all planned. Poor darling. You could still show me how it would've gone. What? Look, he just went in. –Let's meet him, okay? –Okay, let's go. We've got him all to ourselves. It's cold. Let me up here. Careful! The undertow is strong. –Help!
–All right, hang on! I'm coming! I don't deserve to be this happy. Why didn't all this happen years ago? Because... you weren't ready. –I'm not sure I am now. –Too late. Where are you going? I bought you a Christmas present in the market. Just in case you did come. –What is it? –Nothing. Just some people on the beach. I expect we'll hear all about it from Dane. I'm so glad you're here. It wouldn't be Christmas without Anne and Luddie. How many have we missed in the last 20 years? There. –Watch your step. –What do you think? I think it's going to be the best Christmas ever. Luddie, you say that every year. –I'll get it. –Thank you, Judy. You know, Luddie may be right this time. I did think of having a do for the whole district. But I'm not certain Dane would want that. I think it's best to wait and talk to him first. He said so little in his letter. Mind you, Bob and Jack did say he seemed very happy about coming home.
You don't seem quite as thrilled as I thought you would be, somehow. Anne, I am. Of course, I am. It's just that... I hope it's what he really wants. I hope he's not just doing it for my sake. When he went to Ralph, I vowed that I would never try to influence him. Is that the reason you didn't go to Rome? Which, by the way, I personally haven't forgiven you for. I know. Nor has Jussie, or the boys... or Mom. Although I think at least she understands it. It's just that... I felt it would be tempting fate to go. –Or tempting God. –Meggie, how absurd! I know. Fancy what Jussie would make of it. But I fought God so hard for so long... that I wanted to show him finally... that I could accept the fact that Dane and Ralph are his not mine. I sacrificed the chance to go in hopes of making peace with God at last. Don't question why Dane is coming home. Take it as a sign of peace. What's the matter? Mom? What is it? Dane is dead. No. He's coming home. Jussie telephoned. He drowned.
He was trying to save somebody. He's dead. Father... we entrust unto you... Dane... whom we loved so much in this life. Welcome him into Paradise... where there will be no more sorrow or pain... no more weeping... but only peace and joy with your Son... and with the Holy Spirit... forever... and ever. –Amen. The Lord is merciful and kind... and rich in mercy. Man's days are like the grass. He flowers like the flowers of the field. The wind blows... and he is gone... and his place never sees him again. How will we live without him? We will. Your God gathers in the good ones... and leaves the living to those of us who fail. Your greedy God. There is no peace with him. Meggie, no. No more. What can God do to me now? What more do I have to lose? Your soul. Your heart. Your love. The love you've always had within you, despite everything. Despite everything but this. I loved you, Ralph. I never stopped loving you... despite everything. Despite the fact that you were never mine. What part of you I got, I had to steal. But that part was the best. Because that part was Dane.
Dane was your son, too. Yours and mine. It isn't true. He was your son, Ralph. And you couldn't see it. Couldn't see that he was just a more perfect version of you. Couldn't love me enough to see that I would never have gone back... to Luke or to any man after you. And now you say it isn't true. Poor Ralph. Poor Cardinal de Bricassart. It's no good, Rain. Let's just not talk about it anymore, all right? Mrs O'Neill, your mother and I would like to speak with you. Please. Meggie, Jussie's in a very bad way. She's got it into her head somehow that Dane's death is her fault. She insists she must give up the theater and me... and stay here with you on Drogheda. She won't listen to us but if you will help her see that... My son is dead! How can you ask anything of me now? Yes, Dane is dead and we also mourn him. But you still have a daughter. She needs you very much right now. She needs to know that you don't blame her... so that she can take up her life again. Mr Hartheim, I don't know why she feels to blame. But Jussie has never listened to anything that I had to say. She feels to blame because she sent Dane off swimming... so that she could be alone with me. I love her, Mrs O'Neill. And Dane died at the very moment... she finally understood that she could be loved. If you won't help her, she'll waste her life away here on Drogheda... trying to make it up to you for living while he died.
Mr Hartheim, I should like to speak to my daughter alone. Of course. For years I've sat by and watched you do all the things that I did. Crying for a man that you could never have. Giving all your love to his son, the way I gave mine to Frank. Neglecting Jussie, as I neglected you. You've lived your life as I did mine. Driven, always driven! I don't know, and never will... how much of our lives we're allowed to choose... how much is decided long before we're born. But looking back, I see now choices I could've made... and didn't! Even after Paddy died. Even after I lost Frank. I might have asked your forgiveness years ago. But it's too late for me now, Meggie. But it's not too late for you. And it's not too late for Jussie, if you'll help her! I've always loved this place. When I was little, I used to make believe it was a stage. My very own stage, where I was the star. I never knew that. No, you wouldn't. No one did. Except Dane. Poor Dane. I'd go on and on, and he'd applaud. When I was little, I thought God lived here. I'd steal in very quietly, hoping to catch him out. So I could see him. He was always too quick for me. Do you know I learned to dance on this very floor?
Your father taught me. He laughed because I didn't know how, even though I was 20-something. Did you ever love him, Mom? Not enough to marry him. And I did wrong to marry him, Jussie. And no matter what he may have done to me... he wasn't what I wanted, and I couldn't love him for what he was. Jussie, I've made you pay so dearly for being his child... and for so many of my other sins that you know nothing of... And now you think you have to pay for Dane's death, too. He was coming back to you. –If it weren't for me, you'd have him back. –Jussie, no. I sent him out there all alone. I didn't go with him. –He was drowning, and Rain and I were... –Jussie, it wasn't your fault! Dane wasn't a child. He wasn't your responsibility. I don't know why you always thought he was. Because he was. I did love Dane. Truly I did. But I was always afraid that something bad was going to happen to him. Because I used to wish that he were gone... so you would love me instead. I asked what more God could do to me. Now I know. Jussie, you must listen to me. I do love you. I always have. But I've always hurt you. And I'm not going to hurt you now by pretending that I didn't love Dane more.
I did. But you're no more to blame for that than you are for his death. Don't think of staying here on Drogheda. Please, I need to be what comfort to you I can. It cannot comfort me to watch you hand me your life like a sacrifice. What I need most is your forgiveness. You have your work. And you have the love of a man who will never break your heart. That's more than most of us get in a lifetime. Don't give it up for anything. And least of all for me. But how can I leave you here... grieving for Dane and... –You must. To give us hope. A light has gone out. Not just for me, but for all of us. We will spend who knows how long in mourning it. But if you go, your light can burn for us. Knowing that will bring an end to our mourning. My precious girl. When we go there'll be no one. Drogheda will go on with new people. But there'll be no one left to remember what it was like for us. Best go out and see how dry that grass has got. I'll come out when I get back. –Bye, Nana Fee. –Come back next Christmas if you can. Always. Where's Ralph? He isn't returning to Rome.
He asked that we go on without him. He's very ill, Mrs O'Neill. He asked for you. Be happy, Jus. Thank you. My Meggie. I knew you'd forgive me. I knew. All your life... I've watched you wage your battles against God. Yet you were always closer to his desires for us than I. In the end... you've always been able to love. For all you've lost... you've never lost that. Somewhere in me... I must have known from the very first that Dane was mine. But I didn't want to know. I wanted to be Cardinal de Bricassart... more than I wanted our son. More than I wanted you. Of all the wrong I've done... the worst is that I never made a choice... for love. Half given to you, half given to God... but really given to my own ambition. I knew it... and I did it anyway. I told myself it was meant to be. Long ago... I told you a story, a legend about a bird... that sings only when it dies. The bird with the thorn in its breast. You said it pays its life for that one song. But the whole world stills to listen. And God in his Heaven smiles. Driven to the thorn, with no knowledge of the dying to come. When we press the thorn to our breast... we know... we understand... and still we do it.
Subtitles conformed by SOFTITLER English ⬄25000÷1000⬄ From the raw Australia of the 1900s... comes a turbulent saga that spans the decades... in Colleen McCullough's best selling novel: The Thorn Birds. I'll never have what I want. The story of a priest driven by ambition. Never be what I want! Tormented by desire. And I don't know how to stop... wanting. Hello, I'm Father de Bricassart. You'd be Mary Carson's brother? That's right, Father. From the moment he saw her, he knew... –And who are you? –I'm Meggie. he would love her forever. I give you Mary Carson. The richest woman in Australia, and the loneliest. Shoot them, Frank. You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen, Ralph de Bricassart. I thought it was my soul you were after, Mary. Why do you tug so at my heart? Why do you fill that space... God can't fill? When you were a little girl, you were like my own child to me. –I could have you then. –You can have me now. You can marry me. I have chosen to destroy you, Priest. I'll go to hell for it, of course... but it'll be nothing to the hell I'm planning for you.
In the years that followed, no one could stir Meggie's heart: No one till a rover named Luke O'Neill. God, you are beautiful. Marry me, Meghann. The story that travels around the world... from the Vatican to the Australian outback. From the islands of Greece to London. I've tried so hard to get her out of my heart. The saga that spans half a century... echoing through three generations. Starring Richard Kiley, Jean Simmons, Ken Howard, Mare Winningham... Philip Anglim, Christopher Plummer, Bryan Brown, Barbara Stanwyck... Rachel Ward, and Richard Chamberlain. A love unattainable... forbidden forever: The Thorn Birds. Good day, Father de Bricassart. –Happy Christmas to you. –The same to you, Mrs Smith. Why is it the roses here on Drogheda are always the loveliest to be found? Aren't they heavenly? But it's the heat that makes them bloom, so makes me wilt. But nothing is given without a disadvantage in it. True enough, Father, true enough. I'll lay things out for Mass. Amen. Happy Christmas, Mrs Carson. How many times do I have to tell you my name is Mary? –And yet you never call me Ralph. –All right, Ralph. Happy Christmas. It's very kind of you to spend it with a lonely old woman. Hardly that.
On the contrary, it is very kind of you to invite... a lonely priest and fellow Irishman. –That's right. This is your first Christmas in exile, isn't it? Exile? –It's my first year in Australia. –That's not what I mean, and you know it. Six months now, and I still haven't figured out... why the Church banished you out here to the land of Never-Never. What sin did you commit? What priestly vow did you break? Poverty? Obedience? Perhaps chastity? You're quite sure I have been banished? Of course. Look at you. You're aristocratic, witty, ambitious... despite that facade of humility. And God knows you have a subtle mind. You're the stuff cardinals are made of. And you would look magnificent in red. So you've said before, so you say each time I visit here. And you're going to say, "But my dear Mrs Carson, I am a priest. "Surely I can do God's work here... as well as in the seats of ecclesiastical power." Sometimes, I think you know me better than I know myself. I'm certain of that, too. All right, now. Ready. Go! Come on! Come on! You can do it.
Ralph won! –Good on you, Father Ralph. –Bravo, Father. Well done, Father de Bricassart. How do you like him? –He's beautiful. –Good! He's yours. Happy Christmas. Thank you. I'll take pleasure in riding him whenever I'm here... but I can't accept him as a gift. Why not? You accepted the car I gave you. Because it allows me to get around and see my parishioners more often. A fine distinction. You'll accept my gifts only if some holy use can be made of them. –It wasn't poverty. –I beg your pardon? The vow you broke that got you banished. It must have been chastity, yes? All right, my Christmas gift to you: I insulted a Bishop. A matter of local church policy. You broke your vow of obedience. –That was ambitious of you. –There's some comfort in the fact... that the Pope himself later came out in favor of my views in the matter. Has he, now? And he hasn't rescued you? My dear Mrs Carson, priests are expendable, bishops aren't. And it's not so terrible a banishment.
I have you to remind me of the existence of civilization... and I have Drogheda. –Yes. You would like that, wouldn't you? You'd like to have my Drogheda. –Would I? –Yes, you would. If you could charm me into leaving Drogheda to the Church... His Holiness would have to rescue you, reward you... maybe even give you that beautiful red cardinal's robe some day. A masterful plan. But my dear Mrs Carson... I'm a priest. Surely I can serve God as well here... as in the seats of ecclesiastical power. And how you'd hate it. Still, I have to give Drogheda to someone someday, don't I? That's worth thinking about. Mrs Smith, I must go. Please give my thanks to Mrs Carson for a delightful day. That will be all, thank you. You're not leaving so soon. It's late and a long way back to the parish. I hope I didn't say anything this afternoon to upset you. I mean, all that talk about inheriting Drogheda. –You didn't upset me in the least. –Good. –Have you thought about it? –About what, Mrs Carson? About charming me out of Drogheda... because I didn't say I couldn't be charmed, did I? Mrs Carson. What is it you want from me? Why... only your spiritual guidance of course, Father.
You see, I have a decision to make... and you're the only one that can help me with it. –I'll do what I can. –It's about my brother. Your brother? I thought you once said you had no family left. I have a brother. I haven't seen him in years. He lives in New Zealand. We both left Ireland to make our fortunes... but Paddy hasn't fared too well. He's an experienced man with the land, however... and he has a house full of sons. I'm thinking of bringing him here and making him my... head stockman. I wonder you didn't think of it sooner. I did. I've just been waiting, shall we say... to see what might develop. It would be a comfort to know I would be helping Paddy... to know I'm not all alone in this world... not quite reduced to leaving all my pretty pennies to the Church. –It's a most generous gift, Mary. –No. Never a gift. No, whoever inherits Drogheda... earns it. Thank you, Father. Good night, Mrs Carson. Father, it's time you were off. All right, Annie. I'll be right there. It'll be nice for Mrs Carson, having her brother's family. I must see you about the chalk supply. –Chalk? –Three boxes are missing. I'll look into it. In Father Wattey's time, Father... we took a much closer account of such things.
Hello, I'm Father de Bricassart. Sorry I'm late. You'd be Mary Carson's brother? That's right, Father. Paddy Cleary. This is my wife Fiona. Mrs Cleary. I'll be taking you on to Drogheda. I know you've had a very difficult journey. You're very kind. –These are my boys, Father. This is Bob. –Hello, Bob. Jack, and Stuie here. Take off your hat, son. And Frank. –And who are you? –I'm Meggie. Are we going to live here? Not exactly. I'll show you your house later, Meggie. Meggie? Yes, this is Meggie. Mary, we have no words to thank you for your kindness in bringing us here. When you're as old as I am, and as rich... the vultures start to circle. You're my only flesh and blood, Paddy. I don't have any sons, and Michael's been dead for over 30 years. A long time to be alone. –I wonder you've never married again. –Marry again?
And give some man control over me and all I have? No, that's not what I call living. No. As long as I am alive, Drogheda is mine... and only mine. –It's well to remember that. –Of course, Mary. Let's have Mass right away, and then I'm sure... we'd all enjoy a nice, hot meal at your table. Sounds very nice indeed, Father. 125·000 sheep. 1·000 head of cattle... and more fence than you can ride in a month. The round of work is endless... but Drogheda is the biggest in all of New South Wales, and the best. I've seen to that. All I can say is, it looks like heaven to me. If your idea of heaven is hard work, you're right. But we Clearys know about hard work, don't we, sister? Not that it got us very far back in Ireland. I don't want you just to lead the men. I want you to work with them... and to keep on working long after they've quit. When things go wrong, you take the blame. When they go right, don't expect any credit. And I'll give you a free hand with the land... just as long as you keep Drogheda the biggest and the best. Well, Mr Gough... the gold is holding well and I think the investment looks sound. But you're my lawyer. The steel is still down since the war... but nothing to worry about. As we discussed, Carson Limited is doing well with your expansion plans. Meaning I'm still one of the richest women in Australia. If not the richest. –Has your brother any idea of all this? –No. No one has. And that's the way I want it kept until the day I die.
Do you understand? Of course. It would be amusing to know what people would say... if they knew Drogheda was only a hobby with me. –Hello, Father. –Fee. You're fighting a losing battle. There are three things you can't defeat in the outback: the dust, the heat, and the flies. You're certainly not like New Zealand priests. They keep very much to themselves. You're not a Catholic, are you? When I lost faith in my own church... I saw no reason to espouse a creed equally meaningless to me. But Paddy's a Catholic... and we are rearing the children Catholic, if it's worrying you. It isn't. And I won't try to convert you. –But I would like to be your friend. –You're very kind to us. I like to know my parishioners, so I make the rounds of all stations... but I must confess to a special weakness for Drogheda. –Perhaps it's my Irish blood. –Irish? I thought you were French background. No, de Bricassart is an old Norman name, but I'm Irish all right. And the last of the de Bricassart line. I was born in County Meath... just a stone's throw from the town of Drogheda. Call it fate. –Bye, Meggie. Wish you could go. –Have fun, Stuie! Poor little Meggie.
It must be hard being the only girl. But I've been blessed with sons, these and two I've buried. It's her sons a mother thinks of, isn't it? Meggie, don't dawdle. You've got the chickens to feed. –Father Ralph! –Excuse me. Hello, Meghann Cleary. Let's feed those chookies. Yes, but there's something I must show you first. Come on. What is it? Isn't it beautiful, Father? Yes, I suppose it is. Do you suppose that God is really all around us all the time? What makes you ask me that, my little girl? Because if he is, I think he must be here... don't you? God is in his wool room. All is right with the world. And why not? He did choose a stable once. Come on, Ralph. That's a bit precious. Except why not make this the epicenter of the papal map... and then you could be cardinal after all. What would that make you? Surely not the Pope? No, that's too dull. Satan, perhaps. –That's more interesting. –And more powerful.
Every heaven needs one, just to stay in business. You argue like a Jesuit. Isn't it true? Without Satan, there's no struggle. And it's the struggle that keeps us alive. No. What keeps us alive is the point of that struggle: The hope of attaining perfection. If by perfection, you mean heaven... But you have to die to get there, don't you? Sometimes, I think you're after my soul. I am... unless it's already been taken. –Meggie, fetch the milk, will you? –Yes, Mom. Fiona, you are hopelessly old-fashioned. If you don't raise your hemlines and stop wearing all those petticoats... you're going to die in this heat. Where did you get this furniture and this spinet? The furniture was my grandmother's. She taught me how to play. What was your maiden name? My father's name was Roderick Armstrong. My dear Fiona... the Armstrongs are practically New Zealand's first family. You have come down in the world, haven't you? I don't think so. You're better born than we Clearys, if I do say so. The only thing I had going for me when I came to Australia... was a face, figure, more brains than any woman's supposed to have. But it got me Michael Carson. You've done very well, Mary. He doted on me till the day he died. You ought to know what it is to have the love of a good man.
Michael was rich, but he was a bit of a fool. –Paddy's not a fool. –No, but he's penniless. Can you really have loved him enough to give up your place in society? My reasons for what I do are my own. I do not discuss them. Can I help, Frank? Not likely. These beasts would gobble you up... right along with this kangaroo meat. Stop it, you bloody beasts! Stop it! –Shoot them, Frank! –Shoot them? Don't worry. What's the trouble here? Daddy, Aunt Mary says the dogs have got to be shot. All right, darling. –You go on about your work. –Yes, Daddy. Get the gun. I am not going to shoot those dogs. They were just fighting a little. Just fighting? Today, those two fight. Tomorrow, they all turn wild. We'll have a paddock full of sheep with their throats torn out. There's no room here for anything wild, Frank. Those dogs are here to work and to obey. Just like me, right? That's all I do around here, work and obey.
That's right. And as long as I'm your father, that's what you will do. Now get the gun. Yes, Daddy. Hello, Meggie. Now don't you go telling her majesty I fired up this engine. It's only to be used at shearing time. Pete! I thought you boys wanted to learn shearing. If you're not a fine pair of jackaroos! Never saw a machine shears... and here you'll be cockles of the whole place one day. That steam engine runs it? It runs the shears, turns the grinding wheel... works the wool dumper, and it'll boil the Billy for your tea. I bet I could even beat Daddy with these. Nobody can beat Daddy. He was the fastest man with the hand shears in all Wahine, New Zealand. Aren't you to be fetching the milk? I never was a gun shearer myself but I can teach you right enough. I brought a few sheep in to practice on. Get out here, you brainless dummy! You're about to be made an example of! Bob, get yourself a sheep. The fastest bladesman I ever saw... was old Hee Sing, a Chinaman. He could ring any shed in the country, could old Hee Sing. Get in there. Finished. What do you think, Pete? Bob, I'd say you're a champion shearer... Thanks, Pete! In the making.
All right, Stuie. Now just walk right straight toward him. Slowly. That's it. Look him right straight in the eye. That's... No, don't look at me. Look at him. Why do you think I sent you in there? That's it. Lay off, will you? The poor kid's only 11. Go on, Stu. –God... –You stay out of this. No son of mine is gonna be scared of any animal in this place. That's it, Stu. Go ahead. –You think that's funny? –Stop it! Frank! Get back to work, all of you. You pull a trick like that again, and I'll take a stock whip to you. Will you, now? Come on, then. Come on then, now's your chance. You've fought and scrapped and acted like a savage your whole life. I'll not have it anymore, not here. Now get back to work. Hello, Meggie.
I've been looking for you. –What's wrong? –Nothing. I never get to do anything. The boys got to ride all the way out to the far paddock with Pete. They won't even let me on a horse. Maybe your mom doesn't think it's safe for you. She doesn't even know I'm alive. She doesn't care about anyone except Frank. But I'll tell you one thing, Father. When I'm grown up, I'm never gonna love one of my children more than the others. Here, let me help you. What are you doing, anyway? Cleaning out this drain so we can get water to the sheep. You really ought to be in a school. Wouldn't you like that? Yes. But they need me to help. Anyway, I guess I don't need school just to live here on Drogheda. But you do. When your family inherits Drogheda, you'll be a proper young lady. You need to be prepared for that. Who knows. You might not even want to spend your life here. Because big as Drogheda is, it's only a tiny corner of the world. There's so much else out there... so many other lives you might choose... so many opportunities for you. Do you ever wish that you could go out and see the world? I'm a priest, wee Meggie. I must go where the Church sends me. Let's see if this works.
We did it. Come on. I'll take you back to the house. There are some things I want to talk to your Aunt Mary about. I sometimes wonder that we trouble building and mending fences. The rabbits tunnel under them... the kangas jump over them, the wild pigs charge right through them. Look at this hellish wasteland. A man would wonder anything could live. It's not like home. Home was just as green as anything. You'll see a bit of green when the rains come... if they come. No, it's sheep that have turned this land into desert... and man. I'd say that rabbit's as safe as houses at this rate. –This is life. –Good God, boy! I'll tell you what life is. Life is what you just poured into the ground. –Sorry, Pete. –You'll learn. You must know, no matter how much you love the outback... she'll find a dozen ways to kill you before sundown. What is it, boy? What are you smelling now? –What is that thing? –Jack, hold that dog. It's a wild pig, a boar. –Let's get him. –No. Stuart, get down from there! –I want to shoot at him. –No.
He's too far away. If you shoot at a wild boar, believe me, you'd better kill him... or he'll kill you. Damn! –Come on, lads. –But... Stuie, no! Thanks, twerp. –What's my best girl been up to today? –It was so nice, Frank. Father Ralph came to see me. Meggie, he came to see everyone. Set the table. Yes, Mom. –Here, Mom, let me. –It's all right, son. You know how Daddy feels about you boys doing women's work. I want you to get along with Paddy a little better. Hello, Paddy. Boys not with you? They're out with Pete. Should've been in by now. That smells good, Mother. Frank, I'm about finished classing the ewes. Tomorrow you're to start for the far paddocks... and begin mustering the rams for breeding. All right. If you think I can handle it. I don't know if you can handle it or not. But the man you were skincracking to fight today has quit! So you can do his work for him. Best put him up plenty... of tucker and a good bedroll, he'll be out a while.
Never mind, Mom, I'll do it. You've got enough to do already. –What's that supposed to mean? –Look at her. She's so tired, now she can't even see straight. You may think you can treat us like slaves, but not her! She's not some ignorant clodhopping yokel. Like me? Go on, say it. Your mother might as well see how much respect you've got for me. I'm sorry, Daddy. Daddy, wait till you hear... –Stuie shot a boar! –A boar? He was huge, the ugliest devil you ever saw. He killed the dog. Stuie just stepped up as nice as you please and... –Bob, let Stuie tell it. –I can't believe it. We were farmers, you know, back in Galway. One day, my dad told me to fetch a breeding bull from the next farm up. We were too poor to have one of our own. I tried, but that old bull was a killer. I had to come back without him. My dad called me a good-for-nothing coward. He said he'd show me how to fetch a bull. I felt so bad, I sat down and cried. After a while, I looked up... and here come my dad down the lane. He had a rope in his hand all right, but there was no bull at the end of it. He just walked right on by me. Never said a word at all. But he never called me a coward again after that.
For thy bounty which we are about to receive... for the beauty of earth and sky... and for the blessings of the children thou hast given us, Lord... let us be truly grateful. Amen. You're a beautiful woman, Fee. Paddy, I... Mary thought I might be more comfortable in lighter clothes. –You told her about the baby, then? –No. Isn't Stuie something, though? Whatever you said to him made him so happy. Well, that's one, anyway. I'm sorry I lost my temper again with Frank. No, he was very wrong. There's just something about him I don't understand. Something... wild. But what he said about how hard you have to work... it's true. I know this is still not the life you should have, but... someday. –Don't talk someday, Paddy. You've given me as much as any woman could possibly hope for. What are we going to name this baby, anyway? –It smells like eggs again. –It's the brimstone. Father Ralph says hell must be like this. Twerp. What are you doing out of bed? You shouldn't be. You'll be leaving early in the morning. It's too hot to sleep. What is it? You've been moping around all week. I don't want to go away to school and leave you.
Silly goose. Gillanbone's only 40 miles away. –Father Ralph will be there. –Yes, that's so. I'll miss you. And Mom really needs me here to help. Sit up for a minute and listen to me. They always preached to us to work together for the good of us all. How we must never think of ourselves first. You've got to think of yourself because they never will. Yes, they do. It was Daddy who said I could go to school. Because Father Ralph insisted. He fixed it so Aunt Mary would pay for you, the tight-fisted old witch. I want you to go... do you hear? I want you to go. Run along, boys. Poor Meggie. Such a hard time fitting in. –How's our little project coming? –Almost finished. Excuse me. Hold your hands out, please. Your hands, Meghann Cleary. We're still biting them, are we? Yes, Sister. All right. Turn them over. That will do, Sister. Thank you.
Come along, Meggie. I'm sorry, Father. Are you going to send me back to Drogheda? That's up to you. –Do you want to go back? –No. I love school... and being here with you. But Sister Agatha... I think she understands a little better now, don't you? The convent isn't really a very homey place for you. In fact... Annie and I have been thinking that... what you need is your very own, special place... here, with us. –Would you like that? –Could I? Honest? Come on. Why do you tug so at my heart? Why do you fill that space God can't fill? Frank. I thought you could use some company. Your mother says you've been alone out here for weeks. Not long enough. How's Meggie? She's doing beautifully in school. She sends her love. We've got to get this lot in. The monsoons are coming. Why did you become a priest? Because I love God. And I want to help others feel his love.
Why do you ask me? Because you don't act much like a priest to me. Being out here gives me... an escape from my priestly duties at the parish. I need that, I'm afraid. I can understand that, right enough. Stuck out here in this... hellish place. –No picnic, is it? –No, it's not. The Church has such power, Frank. Or rather, God has, working through the Church. The power to shape the lives of millions of people... to change the whole course of history. And I want to be a part of that. I try to hold the thought that even out here... I do share in that power... but sometimes I find it very difficult. Then why don't you escape? Why do you put up with it, a man like you? You could be anything that you wanted to be. Yet I'd give up every ambition... every desire in me, to be the perfect priest. –"The perfect priest." –How can I explain? I'm a vessel... and sometimes I'm filled with God. If I were a better priest... there would be no periods of emptiness, no need to escape. I would always be filled with God. That, to me, would be perfection. Nobody can be that perfect... not even you. –Perhaps me least of all. I haven't found it easy, anyway, to keep my vows... to forgo the love of a woman or of money... or to be obedient. That's been the hardest for me, obedience. But I've learned to obey. This place has taught me that. Maybe I should become a priest.
I'd qualify all right. No woman, no money, and... oh, do I obey. "Yes, Daddy. No, Daddy. Quite all right, Daddy." Why do you put up with it? Because I can't get away from him. But you're 22 now. He can't hold you anymore. He'll hold me till I die. No, Frank. You're a man... and past the age when another man can hold you. If you're held, it's by something else... or someone else. Mom. It's so beautiful. I've been so worried about you. Out there for weeks in this storm. God. He's got you pregnant again. He just can't leave you alone, can he? This is no different from the way you came into the world. –It deserves the same respect. –Respect? When he paws at you like a dirty old goat that he is? He is my husband! When you insult him, you insult me. I'm not the Blessed Virgin. I'm not pure, untainted, and holy. –I'll end up killing him. –Then you'll kill me as well.
No! I'll free you! I can never be free. I don't want to be free. God. Mother. Look at yourself! Look at your life. The waste! You don't belong with him! Son, you're a man now. You've got to stop thinking about me so much. You need a wife. It's time. –Father, you're a sight! –I should've come around back. It's quite all right. Leave your things here. I'll collect them later. Thank you, Mrs Smith. You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen, Ralph de Bricassart. But, of course, you already know that. Curious how you view us mortals with contempt... for admiring that beauty. And yet you would use it without compunction... to get whatever you wanted, wouldn't you? –I thought it was my soul you were after. –It is. Because at my age, officially... I'm supposed to be beyond the drives of my body. And one mustn't expect miracles... even from you. How many women have loved you?
Besides your mother? Did she love me? I don't know. She ended up hating me. Because you didn't need her. Because I needed God more. Interesting. And now... Now you can't need any woman... can you, Cardinal de Bricassart? Father, I'm so glad you're back. Father, what's wrong? I'll never have what I want! Never be what I want! And I don't know how to stop... wanting! It's all right, Meggie. It's all right. It's just that sometimes, God's lessons are very hard for me. Like Sister Ag and her ruler. Yes. Come on. It's cold in here. Good day. You'll spoil your dinner. No, thank you. Not for me. Let's see if we can find your family. Come over here. And now, ladies and gents, it's my pleasure to present... the Queen of the 1921 Gillanbone show: Miss Judy Sutton. Good on you, Judy.
Bless my beads, it's the good Father. –Congratulations, Judy. –How about a kiss for Miss Gilly? Come on, give me something to confess on Sunday. I mustn't make my best girl jealous, now, must I? Around and around she goes... the Wheel of Fortune. Step right up. Make way. Coming through. All right. Have yourselves a good time... but stay out of the pub. –Thanks, Daddy. –Let's go find Pete and unload the rams. Here, son. –Daddy! Frank! –Meggie, me love! Hello. Look at you in your uniform. Where's Stuie? Where's Mom? With the baby due so soon, we thought Mom best not travel. Stuie stayed home with her. Come here. Stuie's been aching to see you. Never mind. We'll buy him something nice with this money, all right? Hello, Aunt Mary. –Father. –Mary, you're looking splendid.
Will you be staying over? I'd rather hoped you'd invite me to stay at the rectory. –You could stay in my room. –Your room? –I thought you were at the convent. –No. Father Ralph gave me my very own room right next to his. You're very welcome to stay. My housekeeper will be happy to share her room with Meggie tonight. No, thank you. I wouldn't want to disturb all your little... arrangements. Nice bit of riding, Alastair. –Congratulations, that's a fine horse. –Thank you, Mary. Angus, this is my brother, Paddy Cleary. –Angus MacQueen and his son Alastair. –How do you do, sir? This is my aunt, Sarah MacQueen. –Mr Cleary, ma'am. –Hello. Sarah, how is Melbourne these days? I hardly know... I've been in Palm Beach most of the season. And then, Hawaii. Of course, one longs for the Continent... but it's still impossibly depressing since the War. Paddy, would you get me some more champagne, please. Excuse me, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am. As it turned out, they were all six of them. You look as though you could use a real drink.
–Hello, Mr Gough. –None of that "Mr Gough" stuff. –Harry to you. –Well, Harry then. I'm feeling a proper fool and that's the truth. If Fee was here, she could hold her own with this lot, but I'm... Our squatters like to lay it on, don't they? Hoity-toity. Helps them forget their grandfathers were burned in the hand... and sent here in prisoner ships. But you should get used to them. You'll be leader of the whole flock one day. Don't tell me. Let's get cracking while the pub's still open. We close early these days. –I'd like to, but Mary wanted some... –Champagne for Mrs Carson. Be grateful we don't have Prohibition like the Yanks. Here it is, gents, Jimmy Sharman's famous boxing troupe. The world's greatest fighters. Plus a purse to be had by any chap brave enough to have a go. Look, they're in their drawers. Come on, step right up. Five minutes before fight time! Come on lads. Who'll take it for a fiver? Last chance. Here we go! Five minutes left before the fight. Come on lads. Who wants to win a five?
Look at their size, you can do it. –I will. –You will? Come right up! Frank, no. We have a taker. A brave lad. Come on, step up here, sir. Here's a pair of gloves for you. What are you laughing at? It's not the size of the dog in the fight... but the size of the fight in the dog. Is that right? Come on, go right inside. –Come along, Meggie. –No. I wanna stay. I can't let you. Your father would flay me alive, and rightly. Come along. I wanna stay with Frank! Buy your lady some fish and chips and a glass of ale. What do you have to lose? You work harder on the farm. Come on, let's go. This brave young lad is Frank Cleary. Break! Look, I won. I fought four fights, and I won. It was too scary. You didn't let her see it, did you?
Short of binding and gagging the child, I couldn't see how to keep her away. Don't be angry. She's been upset enough already. You mustn't ever let Daddy know you were there... you understand me? You really won? Frank, didn't you hear me shouting after you? You were supposed to meet... Dear God, look at him, will you? I'm searching all over for you, and you're off picking fights again. Not fighting. Boxing. I beat four of Jimmy Sharman's champions. Champions. A bunch of punch-drunk old has-beens... from a country show. I made myself £20. That's more than Aunt Mary pays you in a month. £20 and the respect of every man present. Respect! Why don't you grow up? For your mother's sake if nothing else. For her sake? You stinking old he-goat. After what you've done to her. You couldn't leave her alone. –Couldn't keep your hands off her. –Don't you speak to me like that. I'm her husband. You're nothing better than a ram in rut is what you are. You're no better than the bastard who fathered you, whoever he was. God.
I didn't mean that, Frank. Frank, I didn't mean that. You meant it. Let me go, Father. I won't touch him, so help me God. So help you God. God rot your souls, both of you. If you've ruined that child, I'll kill you. I should've let you kill each other, you miserable self-centered cretins. Son... what I said, it's not true. No. I've always felt it. I've always known that you came after me... that she was mine first. I've always blamed you for dragging her down all these years. It was me. No, Frank. It's not your fault. Sometimes, God's ways are hard for us to understand. Your preaching makes me want to puke! Never mind. Never mind. I'm going. And I won't be back. You can't go away. What'll I tell your mother? You mean more to her than all the rest of us put together. She'd never forgive me. God in heaven, Paddy. What possessed you to tell him? God.
Why aren't you older so that I could explain this to you. Meggie. Twerp. That argument that Daddy and I had... is just a kind of a sign that it's time for me to be going on my own. But you mustn't tell Mom about it, do you hear? Aren't you going to tell Mom goodbye? I'll write to her. She'll understand. Where are you going, Frank? You know the money I won for boxing. The man who owns the whole troupe, Jimmy Sharman... he wants me to be one of his regular fighters. –Really? –Think of that. I'll travel around the whole country and see things you've never dreamed of. I wish you'd take me with you. Will you, Frank? No. What kind of life would that be for you? You must stay here and learn to be a great lady. Because you know something? You're going to be all grown up sooner than you know. Why don't you love me anymore? –I do love you, Meggie. –No, you don't. –You wouldn't leave me if you did. –My darling Meggie. No one will ever love you more than I. Frank! I was the dairy hand. I used to see Fee in the distance walking with Frank.
He was only a baby then. Then one day, old Roderick Armstrong came to see me. He said his daughter had disgraced the family. They wanted to send her away but the grandmother wouldn't hear of it. Now the old lady was dying, there was nothing to stop them. He said... if I'd marry Fee, take her away... they'd pay me enough money to set us up. So you married a lady far above you? But it wasn't the money, Father. She was so beautiful. I wanted to see her safe and not abused. To me she's beautiful still. She is indeed. And in Meggie, I can see what she must've been like then. Yeah. I was frightened to death of her at first. It took me two years to get up enough courage... to be a proper husband to her. I love her so much, Father. I know she's never had that feeling for me. Not even in the most private moments of our lives together. But never once in all these years has she ever... complained or cried... or laughed. How's Meggie? Father, what in heaven's name happened here today? Father, promise you won't ever leave me. Darling Meggie. –Meggie, Frank had to leave. –Why? Because it hurt him too much to stay. It'll hurt more without Mom and me... because we're the ones who love him. For each of us, there comes a time... when he must search for the thing he thinks he needs above all else. No matter what it costs.
You mean the thing that'll make him happy? Happy. There's a story... a legend... about a bird that sings just once in its life. From the moment it leaves its nest, it searches for a thorn tree... and never rests until it's found one. And then it sings... more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. And singing... it impales itself on the longest, sharpest thorn. But as it dies... it rises above its own agony... to out-sing the lark and the nightingale. The thorn bird pays its life... for just one song... but the whole world stills to listen. And God in his heaven smiles. What does it mean, Father? That the best... is bought only at the cost of great... pain. Thank you, Meggie. What a pleasure having you do that for me. I think from now on I'll call you "Our Lady of the Gates." How many wretched gates are there between Gillanbone and Drogheda? –Twenty-seven, Father. –Twenty-seven. And that means one has to stop and get out... how many times? –Fifty-four, Father. –Well done. Fifty-four times coming and fifty-four times going. Now, if a priest were to travel between Gilly and Drogheda... to see his favorite person, say, once each month... how many times would he have to stop and get out during one year's time? It's all right, Father. With the baby to take care of, I'll be too busy to miss school. Sometimes I long to throw open all those gates... and race down the road and never stop. Just leave all 27 of them gaping open... like astonished mouths behind me. Goodbye, Father. Hello, Mom. Hello, Meggie. Mom, Hal's beautiful.
Father de Bricassart, how very nice to see you again. Why did you do it, Mary? When the dress on your back could pay her tuition for the rest of the year! Ralph, I don't believe I've ever seen you so... impassioned. I thought it best to take Meghann out of school. Fee is not well. She needs the help. Why do you dislike Meggie so much? She's a beautiful, intelligent little girl... and yet no one seems to give a rap about her! Which means you can be sure of her love. And it's all so innocent and so safe for you, isn't it? No danger to your reputation... no threat to those not-so-holy ambitions of yours. Mary, this is unworthy even of you. I am, after all, a priest. You are a man first, Ralph de Bricassart. No, Mary. A priest. First, last... and always. Coming along beautifully, Meggie. This time next year, you'll be ready for the horse trials at the Gilly fair. But then, Father, by this time next year, you could be in Rome. Poor little Hal. I think he's a mite feverish, Meggie. Mrs Smith, please take the children... in the kitchen for tea. You have heard the news? The Pope has decided that Australia should have its very own cardinal. I didn't know you stay current with church politics. But it's so intriguing, don't you think? His Holiness is sending a papal legate... to search the length and breadth of this land... to find a man worthy enough to wear the biretta. Now, that's like Cinderella.
Mary, much as I love sparring with you, it's time we made a truce. A truce? The priest confesses. It's true I once had ambitions. Great ambitions... which I thwarted by my own stupid lack of humility. Then I was sent here. Here you were. A good Catholic, with Drogheda and no heirs... or so I thought. And you thought, "My ticket to the Vatican." Put with typical cruelty but perhaps not undeserved. The point is, I've changed... and it's largely you I have to thank for it. Me? When you made the Clearys your heirs, you dashed all my hopes, as you intended. But it freed me, too, from all my old desires. Mary, I'm a priest. Only that. –And content. –Bravo, Ralph. I can't remember when I've enjoyed a performance more. "All my old desires." That is wonderful. I'll let you stew a while longer... but your day of reckoning is coming. Don't you ever doubt it. How you do love the illusion of your own power. –Don't make me pity you. –Pity me? Do you doubt I can't make you writhe yet? Do you think I can't make you sell yourself like a painted whore... before I'm finished with you? I don't doubt you'll try, but take care. In trying so hard to destroy my soul, you may lose your own. –If there's still one there to lose.
–Or still one there to destroy! In a Christian country, all this commotion would mean rain. Those grazing lands are dry as chips. Not a mouthful of grass anywhere. I reckon we'll be lucky lads if this lightning doesn't set the range aflame. Did I ever really say Drogheda was heaven? Good night. Daddy, come on. Little Hal is very sick. –It's very bad, Paddy. –For God's sake, someone get a doctor! I phoned from Aunt Mary's. He's all the way out to Dibben-Dibben. Bob, get some more sulfur from the storehouse, will you? "May Christ receive thee who hath called thee... and may the angels bear thee unto Abraham's bosom." Meggie, what is it? I'm all right. But you're not. Just talk to me. There's nothing wrong. Leave me alone! She's doing it again, Father. She's been like this ever since little Hal died. I know. She won't talk to me, either. We can't let this go on. Meggie. Meggie, listen to me. You've got to stop this. I know how much you loved Hal, but you can't go on grieving this way.
Meggie, please. You're wasting away before my very eyes. I can't bear it! Father, you make me so ashamed. It's not Hal. –I mean, I do miss him, but... –What, then? Are you sick? –I can't tell you. –You can tell me anything. That's what I'm here for. I'm a priest and I love you just the way God loves you, wee Meggie. Father... I'm dying. –Dying? –Just like Hal. Only it's some kind of tumor or something, Father. How do you know this, dear heart? I get the most awful pains, Father. And then, there's a lot of blood. But it's not all the time. –Just every month or so? –Yes. How did you know that? My precious girl... you're not dying. You're growing up. Sorry your mom didn't explain all this to you. –She should have, you know. –You mean Mom does it, too? All healthy women do, Meggie.
Except when they're expecting a baby... and then it's needed to nourish the baby inside their womb. –You understand? –Sort of. Like when it says, "Blessed be the fruit of thy womb, Jesus" That's right. Do you know... what makes babies? –Of course, Father. It comes from mating, like the rams and the ewes. I've tried to watch them, but Daddy said I mustn't. But I've heard the boys talking. –Isn't that right, Father? –Yes, but... See, Meggie, it's very different with people. Or it should be. Because God intended, I think... that when a man and a woman mate, they do it... as a way of showing their love for each other. So it's a mating not just of bodies but of souls. –It must be so wonderful. –So I understand. –Will it be that way for you and me? –What? When I grow up and we get married. Meggie, you know priests can't marry. –You can always stop being a priest. –No. No, Meggie darling. I can never stop being a priest. Not ever. –What about those tarts you promised me? –Yes, come on. Father, I'm so glad I'm not dying.
–What would I ever do without you? –Silly, you'll never be without me. What would her majesty be wanting with me at this late day? Heaven knows. Still a thousand things to do, and the guests are almost upon us. I'll take that, Judy. I'm going up anyway. Come in. Happy birthday, ma'am. And if we aren't a picture today. Thank you, Pete. But birthdays at our ages are rather a mixed blessing, aren't they? What is that? I was just taking it along to Meggie. I thought you wouldn't mind... if the Clearys dressed here... so as they wouldn't be dust to the waist from walking. Good. That's a pretty color for Meghann. What do you call it? Ashes of Roses, ma'am. It's quite the thing just now. You will help her dress this evening. We want her to look absolutely irresistible. Has Father de Bricassart arrived yet? No, not yet. But your lawyer, Mr Gough, is here. Good. Now, I want you both to watch me sign this paper... and then I want you to put your names beneath mine. –You can write, can't you, Pete? –I can manage a little bit. Fine.
It's just that you are a witness... that this is indeed my signature... in case there's ever a question. Good. –And please send Harry Gough to me. –Yes, ma'am. I'll fetch Mr Gough. Why, Mrs Cleary, you look stunning. Thank you. For once, Mary's opened her wallet wide enough to let the moths fly out. She doesn't want her poor relations shaming her on her 75th birthday. I best get this to Meggie or she'll be late. Fee. Why, Paddy... you look like a diplomat. Do I? I feel like an undertaker. But you... You look just grand. Harry, doesn't she look grand? My dear Fee, you look like the lady of the manor. Is that a legal opinion, Mr Gough? –Help me with these, will you? –Yes. I think they'll do, even if they're not quite real. Never you mind. Some day I'm going to buy you the finest strand of pearls in all Australia. Really, it's astonishing how few interesting men there are since the War. And that's been 10 years. I mean, virtually one's whole life. They're either doddering or else they're mere children. Where on earth has Meggie got to? Mrs Smith says she's about got her ready.
–That's Stuart Cleary. –Little Stuie Cleary? Honestly, Lucy. Not bad looking, I suppose... but such a rube like all those Clearys. Still, he might do for you. And of course, they'll be frightfully rich when she goes. –Father. –Happy birthday, Mary. How delightful you look, like a young girl. You've outdone yourself. This must be the finest party in the district in 50 years. Easily. I hope you're staying over... because I've planned some real festivities for tomorrow. I'd be delighted. –Harry. –Hello, Father. –Father, what a delight to see you. –Good evening, Miss Carmichael. But you've been dreadfully neglectful, you know. Mother was just saying the other day... that you haven't been to Beel-Beel for the longest time. Thank you. –Hello, Alastair. –How are you fellows this evening? Paddy, you remember my sister, Sarah. Yes, of course. But I don't know if you've met my wife, Fiona. Heavens, I would never have dreamed you were Paddy's wife. Sarah just returned from the States. My dears, you can't imagine what the Crash has done. Wall Street is a shambles.
People throwing themselves out of windows. That can't happen here. Not with the wool market we've got. Do you realize how much this country exported last year? Good Lord. Who is that? Excuse me. –Meggie, you're so beautiful. –Thanks, Stuie. I give you Mary Carson. A dear and generous sister, a great lady... and queen of this beautiful land of Drogheda. May she reign forever. Thank you all. And thank you, Paddy, for your words and wishes. But no one reigns forever. The time is coming when I must pass the reign of Drogheda on to someone else. As we all know, those of us who have lived here... and fought the drought and the floods, and the heat and the cold, and yet... have managed to prosper... and become masters of all we survey. This land can be a heaven... or a hell. My fondest wishes for those who come after me... is that it be far more one... than the other. –Dance with me, Mary. –No, Father. I'm too decrepit. Nonsense. I insist. That was a beautiful speech, Mary. You made Paddy very happy. I truly wonder if she isn't getting a bit senile. I mean, tricked out exactly like a bride. So grossly unsuitable. Someone should've told her she looks like death in white.
Beauty and the Beast. He's grinning at her like he didn't care she left that lot to those Clearys. Of course, he's too holy for filthy lucre and suchlike anyhow, isn't he? Of course, it does make those Cleary boys more interesting. –She's a grand old girl, Paddy. –Aye, that she is. By the by, I've been meaning to ask... Mary usually chairs the race committee for the Gilly show... but I wonder if you might be interested in doing the honors this year... as she's declined. Thank you, Angus. –What's the matter? Are you all right? –Yes, I'm all right. Let's let others have a chance. –Of course. –Please dance. Cynthia. I never supposed we could still dance together, Fee. How long has it been, do you think? It's been 30 years in January. –Now, how can you remember that? –I remember it very well. We went to the Century Ball in Wahine on New Year's Eve. Frank was just a baby. Good evening, Meggie. Will you dance with me? Thank you, Alastair. I don't know how to dance. It's awfully hot for dancing, anyway. –Perhaps you'd care for some punch? –Yes, thank you.
Look at the boys, will you. Standing around shy as kangas. It's my fault. I should've taught them a few of the social graces: How to dance, what to say to a girl. There's been little time for anything but hard work all these years. We're just beginning to realize how many changes there will be in our lives. Will it make you happy, Paddy, being rich? I could never be a rich man, Fee. Not if I was to have a million pounds. I wouldn't know how to be. It's knowing that you'll be living the way you always should have... that you'll take your place again. That's what makes me happy. Father Ralph, about the bingo. Patricia wants to put in... I must take exception to it. If we could have a little talk... Father? –Are you enjoying the party? –Meggie, yes. Are you? Yes, it's a lovely party. Excuse me, Meggie. She is lovely, isn't she? There's not a man in this room... who wouldn't give up everything just to have her, is there? Now, Mary, you're baiting me again. Not one man, except perhaps you. Once, a long time ago, I offered you a chance at the cardinal's robe... and you turned me down. But I wonder, if you had to choose between Meggie... and the cardinal's robe... which would you choose? Mary, what would I have done without you these past years?
Your wit, perception... your malice. Father, why don't you want to be with me? Talk to me. Is there something wrong? You look lovely, Meggie. So grown up. I have to speak to the MacQueens. Meggie. What a sweet dress. Thank you, Miss Carmichael. Mrs Smith made it for me. I helped a little. Did you? I'm sure I haven't seen anything like it in the fashion pages. You know, I keep expecting to see you at the horse trials. Ralph tells me you might become quite an able rider one day. Some people are saying that it isn't quite the thing for him... to be spending so much time in Drogheda. It's splendid of Ralph to take such an interest in you Clearys. Ralph, you haven't danced with me all evening. You must do the black bottom with me. You always do it so well. Look, everyone, Father's going to do the black bottom. Father, it's time for me to go up. Please, everybody. It's almost dawn, but please stay and enjoy yourselves. Good night, Mary. –Will you see me up the stairs? –Of course. Good night. It's been a wonderful party, Mary.
Yes, hasn't it? It was a wonderful party, Mary. And I hope, a wonderful birthday for you. My last. I'm tired of living. I'm going to stop. Fiddlesticks. You're planning something special for tomorrow. –You told me so yourself. –Yes, I remember. But I won't see you. Kiss me goodbye, Ralph. Mary, good night. Sleep well. No! On my mouth. Kiss me on my mouth as if we were lovers! –Mary, I am a priest. –A priest! You're not a man nor a priest. You're some impotent, useless thing that doesn't know how to be either! You're wrong, Mary. I know how to be a man. But to be a man on your terms is to be no priest. And I have chosen to be a priest. With the free will God has given us... and with that same free will, I have chosen to destroy you, Priest. I'll go to hell for it, of course... but it'll be nothing to the hell I'm planning for you. It's yourself you'll destroy with this everlasting hatred of yours. When Satan tempted Christ with the whole world... is it because he hated him or because he loved him? –You don't love me.
–I have always loved you! So much so, I would've killed you for not wanting me! But I found a better method. No, not love. I'm the goad of your old age, that's all. A reminder of what you can no longer be. Let me tell you something, Cardinal de Bricassart... about old age and about that God of yours. That vengeful God who ruins our bodies... and leaves us with only enough wit for regret. Inside this stupid body, I am still young! I still feel! I still want! I still dream! And I still love you! Oh, God, how much! Meggie! Meggie. Meggie darling, don't cry. Here. Here now, dry your eyes like a good girl. I don't want it! I'm not a child anymore. Why don't you just go back to your dancing? I know you're not a child. Anyone can see you've grown into a beautiful young woman. You were by far the loveliest girl at the party tonight. But that's just the problem. They all know I come to Drogheda more often than I need. If I'd paid you a skerrick of attention tonight... it would've been all over the district in record time. Don't you see? –No, I don't see.
–I think you do. Come here. Come on. Now, Meggie. We've been over this before. What you mustn't do is get in the habit of dreaming about me... in some sort of romantic fashion. When you're a woman, you'll meet the man destined to be your husband. Then you'll be far too busy getting on with your life to think about me... except as an old friend... who helped you through some of the bad times of growing up. All right, my Meggie? Yes, Father. I understand. Come on. –What are you thinking, Father? –Just about the land. That it's so beautiful, so pure... and so indifferent to the fates of the creatures who presume to rule it. And what are you thinking, my dearest Meggie? Just that I wish the sun would never come up. We could stay like this forever. –Father! –What is it, Mrs Smith? It's Mrs Carson, Father. She's dead. Mrs Smith, we'll have to hold the funeral right away, with this heat. Yes, Father. I've sent Pete down for Paddy and I've telephoned to the others. Many of them haven't even reached home yet from the party, though. –Father. –Harry, you've heard? It's terrible. Terrible.
Father, I must speak to you. –Can it wait? I have some arrangements... –Mary's orders. Please. Fancy the old monster popping off like that to spite God and all? She probably did herself in. Unless it was the devil doing us all a favor. Crying shame all the ice got used up last night. I have here Mary's will. As you've probably guessed... she left everything to Paddy and his family. She did leave a bit to the Church and some to you. Shouldn't the Clearys be here? Yes, we'll have the reading later, after the funeral. Mary gave this to me last night before the party. I was to read it to you the moment I learnt of her death. Of course, I had no idea then... Good Lord. It's a new will... dated yesterday. But why would she make it without me? "I, Mary Elizabeth Carson et cetera... "bequeath all my worldly goods to the Holy Catholic Church of Rome... "on the condition that she show appreciation... "of the worth and ability of her servant... "Father Ralph de Bricassart... "and that said Father Ralph de Bricassart... serve as the chief authority in charge of my estate." Congratulations, Father. You got the lot after all. All £13 million of it. £13 million?
I... But what about the Clearys? They get to stay on as managers. Decent of her not to throw them out entirely. And there's £10·000 a year for your personal use... and a note to you. "My dear Ralph, how do you like my new will? "Of course, you can destroy it if you wish. "It's the only copy, and my lawyer will never tell. "No one will be the wiser, and Meggie will be... "the richer, won't she? "But I know what you'll do. "I know it as surely as if I could be there watching... when they give you that red robe and miter." Father, listen. There's no denying it was Mary's property... to dispose of in any manner she wished, and I'm not a Catholic, so forgive me. But we both know the Church has no right to the estate. Please, let's just destroy this. Let poor old Paddy and his family have what's rightfully theirs. –It's so awful. –Paddy, I'm so sorry. My poor sister. I can't believe it. What are we going to do? I don't know what we're going to do. We gather here... shocked and saddened by the sudden death of our friend Mary Carson. Yet we take comfort in the knowledge that in her last hour she was not alone. Not the greatest nor humblest living being dies alone... for in the hour of our death, our Lord Jesus Christ is with us... within us, and death is sweet. We all know what Mary was. A pillar of the community. A pillar of the Church. And it was the Church she loved more than any living being... for she understood so well the words of St Matthew:
"Where your treasure is... there will be your heart also." Let us pray for her immortal soul... that she, whom we loved in life... will enjoy her just and eternal reward. And as we pray, let us remember that our Lord is rich in mercy. And let us not forget... that we are dust... and unto dust we shall return. "By my hand, this 24th day of November... "in the Year of our Lord, 1929... Mary Elizabeth Carson, née Cleary." Yesterday. I won't deny it's a bit of a disappointment. –Paddy, I want you to contest. –That wouldn't be right. It was her money, wasn't it? If she wanted to leave it to the Church... And then, 13 million quid... I wouldn't know how to look after that kind of money. You don't understand, Paddy. There are already hundreds of people employed to look after it for you. Please contest. I'll get you the best KCs in the country. We'll fight it all the way to the Privy Council, if necessary. What do you think? But we can live on Drogheda anyway and have this house. Isn't that what the will says? No one can turn you off Drogheda so long as one of your father's grandchildren lives. What more do we want? Damn. I hate to see you cheated. Fee, I don't know what to do. All the things I wanted for you. I don't want Mary's 13 million pieces of silver.
Well, that settles it. No, thank you. –I think it's time we were going. –They're reading the will. You don't think I'm going to leave until I've seen their faces, do you? Sometimes, I think you lack human feeling. Paddy is very grieved about Mary's death. Still, what is the harm in congratulating him? Here they come. My condolences. Father. Please don't think there are any hard feelings on our side. Mary was never swayed by another human being in all her life... brother or priest. If she left it to the Church, it was because you were mighty good to her. You've been mighty good to us, as well... and we'll never forget that. Thank you, Paddy. Poor Paddy. The old bitch. Father? Father, what is it? She's won, Meggie. I've betrayed you. –Betrayed me? –She knew me so well. She knew if she stripped you of everything, I'd have no choice. But no. She made sure you'd neither want for anything nor have anything, either. All your life, you'll have to look to me. I don't understand. You'll be respectable, even socially admissible... but you'll never quite be "Miss Cleary." Never quite be one of them.
I don't want to be one of them. Be stupid and vicious and cruel like Miss Carmichael. –How could you even think of that, Father? –Meggie, don't call me Father. I'll be going away, Meggie, soon. Why? Don't you see? It's part of her plan. I brought in £13 million. And a holy priest who's brought in £13 million... will not be left to languish here in the back of beyond. The Church knows how to reward its own. No. My Meggie... it's better this way. How can it be better... to take away what I love most in the world? Then better for me. Better than someday having to marry you to somebody else. Better than staying here to watch you change into something I can never have. Meggie, when I saw you last night, I almost hated you. Hated me? –For growing up? –Yes. When you were a little girl, you were like my own child to me. You were the rose of my life. –I could have you then. –You can have me now. You can marry me. You love me. But I love God more. I do love you, Meggie. I always will.
But I can't be a husband to you. If only I could make you understand what being a priest means to me. How God fills a need in me no human being ever could. Not even me? I can't! Goodbye, my Meggie. Father! Go on, then. Go on to that God of yours. But you'll come back to me... because I'm the one who loves you. The saga continues... as a way of life is threatened. And forbidden love is given... You've come back. then taken away. My life belongs to God. And new desires are ignited... He was a fool to let you go. while ambition lights the road to Rome. The Thorn Birds continues. Subtitles conformed by SOFTITLER English ⬄25000÷1000⬄ From the raw Australia of the 1900s... comes a turbulent saga that spans the decades... in Colleen McCullough's best-selling novel: The Thorn Birds. I'll never have what I want. The story of a priest driven by ambition. Never be what I want! Tormented by desire. And I don't know how to stop... wanting. And a beautiful young girl obsessed with a man she could never have.
You can marry me. You love me. But I love God more. It's Mrs Carson, Father. She's dead. Probably did herself in. Unless it was the devil doing us all a favor. "... Father Ralph de Bricassart... serve as the chief authority in charge of my estate." £13 million of it. Go on to that God of yours. You'll come back to me because I'm the one who loves you. And tonight, the story continues. Fire. Fire on Drogheda. You've come back. What have you done to me? All right, lads! God, you are beautiful. Help me get free of this. Starring Richard Kiley, Jean Simmons, Ken Howard, Mare Winningham... Philip Anglim, Christopher Plummer, Bryan Brown... Rachel Ward, and Richard Chamberlain. A love unattainable... forbidden forever: The Thorn Birds. Vittorio Scarbanza di Contini-Verchese. Excellent. I'm very happy. So few outside the Vatican can pronounce my name. Will you take tea, Father?
Will you take tea, Father? I confess I have adopted the custom. I believe you've been in Sydney for some time, Archbishop? Yes, as a papal legate... it is my task to provide a link... between the Australian church hierarchy and the Vatican. A rich country, Australia. She supports the Church well despite the Depression. One day... the Holy Father will have to reward her... by selecting an Australian cardinal. No doubt that will be many years away. Still, it is a very important part of my job to study likely men... of your age. Oh, Sheba, must you be so selfish. You make my legs numb. De Bricassart... I'm descended from Ranulf de Bricassart... who came to England with William the Conqueror. Since Henry VIII's time, the family has fallen into obscurity. In fact, I'm the last of the de Bricassarts. But you yourself appear to have found ways... of dealing with obscurity. –Your Grace? –I refer to your penchant... for attracting the notice of the Holy Father. The Carson bequest. Rather an achievement. Mrs Carson was also faithful to the Church. Quite. Sheba, must you always dig in your claws when you're happy? How do you do that? A cat will never go to anyone, especially Sheba. Yet she goes to you as if you gave her caviar! So, you will administer the Carson estate. Given the current economic conditions... I suppose we must expect some losses. No.
I've just been over everything with the auditors... and I think the investments will hold firm. I'm sure the Clearys will continue to manage Drogheda... as if it were their own. –You're fond of these Clearys. –Yes, very. Do you love them all equally... or do you love some more than others? I feel closest to the girl, Meggie. I've watched her grow up... and I've always felt that she was my special responsibility. She's the only daughter and the parents sometimes tend to forget she exists. I see. Meggie! –What on earth are you doing? –Managing the stock horses. Are you now? And who decided that, may I ask? I did, since nobody else seemed to have plans for me. I see. I don't know if I can think of anything wrong with that. I don't know if I can think of anything wrong with that. If you're going to manage stock horses... I don't believe I'd use a thoroughbred to do it. He needs the exercise, Daddy. You wouldn't want Father Ralph... to come back and find his horse fat and out of shape. Father Ralph? I don't think you'll be seeing him again. No, Drogheda's part of his past now. Meggie, you've kept your secret pretty well. I doubt if anyone else knows how you feel about Father Ralph. But it's no good for you to keep dreaming about him. You know he's a priest. He can stop being a priest, Stuie.
And he will someday, Stuie. I just know he will. He can never stop being a priest. Why can't you understand that? The vows he took are sacred. They can't be broken, ever. And he never will break them, Meggie. Not even for you. You have been disobedient. Your promise of celibacy was neither made, nor broken lightly... but it was broken. And, most unfortunately, that fact has now become public knowledge. We have no choice but to act. The Archbishop has left instructions for you to be sent to Darwin... in the Northern Territory. There's a small frontier parish there. You'll be leaving immediately. Father John is waiting now to accompany you on your journey. And, of course, the young woman... must never know where you've gone. Yes, Father. Goodbye. Father... I think I know something of the pain you're feeling. You know, many in your situation might have given up the Church. But you have chosen to remain. That takes a great deal of courage. May God bless you for it. Such incidents are regrettable, my dear Ralph... but I'm afraid even we priests... are weak, and all too human. Still, one has to pity him. And Gillanbone is a paradise in comparison to the place he's being sent. But the best of us find strength... in such adversity... as you know. Yes, Your Grace.
Now, what on earth can this be? Happy Christmas, Fee. They're beautiful, simply beautiful. They may not be "the" finest in all of Australia... but they're the real thing, all right. There we go. They are lovely. I must say, it's a nice surprise to find you all so brave and cheerful... in spite of everything. –Isn't it, Angus? –Indeed, it is. Paddy, I want you to know I look on you as friends. And if there's ever anything I can do for you... –I hope you'll let me. –Thank you, Angus. We're just pleased that you could be with us today. We should've got around to pay some calls before this... but it's been a busy time, as you can imagine. I suppose it's as dry out your way as it is here, Mr MacQueen. Terrible. I've never seen such mobs of kangas in so close. They were practically at the house, trying to get at the water. And you said you saw several grassfires on the way up from Melbourne... didn't you, Aunt Sarah? –Yes. I hate to start in slaughtering... but the sheep are starving so bad already... I'm afraid the wool will be too weak to bring any kind of price. Pete tells a good one on Aunty Mary. She was in Sydney once in a drought, and Pete sends a wire: "Half the sheep are starved. Please advise." And Aunty Mary sends a wire right back: "Shoot the rest." That's all you care about, isn't it, the profit? The price of the wool.
Never mind that the poor sheep are suffering unspeakably. Well, ma'am... out here, it's got to be the wool a man cares about, isn't it? It's not as if the sheep were people, you know. Quite right. I've seen city people dote on animals... and yet, completely ignore a cry of help from a human being. Perhaps it's natural to have contempt for whatever there's too many of. How dare you? How dare you, when we come here in friendship? –Sarah! –No! You lecture me on the value of human life... when your own son sits in the Melbourne prison for murder? Damn, Sarah! Paddy, I'm so sorry. I thought you knew. It was months ago. My son? Frank? He was in a fight... in a pub there, in Melbourne. The other fellow died later. They called it murder because Frank is a professional boxer. –They gave him a life sentence. –Oh, my God. Oh, God. –Fee. –My Frank... Fee, dear, pack your things, we'll go to him. No. I can't. It would kill him to see me. I'm going to Frank.
Stuie is taking me. But you mustn't. Your mom doesn't want you to. If we could only take back the things we say and do. Daddy, I know about Frank. I came to understand it a long time ago. And you're not to blame for anything. I tried so hard to treat him like one of my own. But he was a thorn in my side from the first. He always stood between us. Always. And he will now until the day I die. I know she can't help the way she loves him... no more than I can help my love for her. But we are to blame. We've let it take our hearts away from our own children. Meggie, I think... I think of how much we've both held back from you. From you, most of all. It's all right, Daddy. –Meggie... –No, don't. Hello, Frank. You've grown up. You're beautiful. What have they done to you? It's all been my own doing. All of it. From the first. Listen, Frank... I want to try and help you.
I've talked to Harry Gough. He knows how to get an appeal started for you. No. Listen to me. I want to get you out of here. I want you to come home. Frank, darling, if there's any way... No. When I was growing up... there was only one thing that I really wanted in the whole world: To see Mom happy. Then I realized... that no matter how hard I tried... that I couldn't make her happy. And that it was me... all along. I ruined her life... just by being born. –I've never found a way to pay for that. –No, Frank. If Mom's life is ruined, it's because she let it. Meggie, listen to me. You want to help me? Then you must forget about me. Promise me that you'll never come here again. Promise me that you'll never let her come either. Don't worry. She wouldn't come, Frank. She wouldn't come, Frank. I don't understand you... either of you. I don't understand that kind of love. Poor little Meggie. You still think love can save us? It's more killing than hate. Hate is so clean, so simple.
Like being in the ring. With hate, you just keep hitting. You hit until they stop hitting back. With love... they never stop. And you planned all this? –Excellent. –Thank you, Your Grace. We can now feed almost 300 people a day. But it seems little enough, given the times. Every day, more and more people thrown out of work. Still, you have done very well in bringing this about. In fact... I have been very pleased with you... in the year you have been here, Ralph. And I gather the Vatican shares my assessment. They have appointed you to be my secretary. Which means they are considering you very seriously... for further advancement... in time, if you do well. And, I think you will. I'm very grateful, Your Grace. It's an honor I never thought to attain. You are too humble, Father de Bricassart. But humility can be most useful to you, because as you advance... you will increasingly find yourself in the position... of having to use the enormous power of the Church. And while you will be tested in many ways... the greatest test will be... in how you use that power. No, it is humility... that will help you to use it... well. Fire, Stuie! Look, Stuie, fire! Quick, let's get back to the house! Oh, God. All right, you silly animal, I'll get you out. There you go. Come on.
Whoa, boy. Come on. Fire. Fire on Drogheda. Yes. What? All you can spare. Don't stand there. Get to the cookhouse to get some stew going, can't you? Make it enough for 100. They're coming, ma'am, from all the stations, Gilly as well. I'll fetch the other women. –Mom? –Meggie, go get changed. Help with the horses. Stuie, come with me. There you go. Come on! Keep them together. Watch! Hurry. Come on, get up. –It's terrible. –Here you go. Yeah, go on! Come on, get in. God, Mom, it's getting away from us. –Mom? –Keep working, Meggie. Will you look at that?
Charlie, loose those dogs! Get the hose and bring it down here! And you, you come with me! –Meggie, you all right? –I'm okay. –Did Paddy come in with you? –No, I haven't seen him. –Daddy? Where's Daddy? –He's out on the range, Meggie. We should telephone around, see if he came in anywhere. No, the lines are down. Maybe the boys know where he is. Over here! No, God, please! The east water tower's run dry. Mrs Cleary, take some rest. We're losing it! Judas Priest, we're losing it! Off you go, lad. How is it out there? –Nothing will stop it. –Watch out! –It's going to go! –Watch out! Oh, Meggie, our old place. Mom, look. –It's up to the house! –Oh, Meggie. –Boys, wet down the veranda!
–There's no water! Rain. Stuie! It's raining! We're saved! Let him sleep. Poor old dear. I know he'd want to help you look for Mr Cleary. Good luck. Here's where we fan out. And, remember, whoever finds Daddy, fire three shots. Daddy! I had no idea the fire was out this far. Daddy? Stu, where are you? Must have been Stuie that signaled. He rode in this direction. Don't go in, Mom. Paddy? And Stu. Stu? What do you mean? –No, not both of them! –You don't want to see it. Not Stu! You've come back. Darling Meggie, don't cry. The world hasn't come to an end because of a fire... no matter how terrible it was. You're safe. That's all that matters.
I was so worried. Harry Gough called me and I flew right out. Imagine... Then you don't know. Father, Daddy and Stuie... they're dead. No. Daddy died in the fire, and Stuie found him. And then, there was a wild boar... and it killed my Stuie. What is it? The plane bogged in the mud when we landed. I must have bruised my side. Let me see it. –You rode all the way from Gilly like this? –I hardly noticed it. I was worried about the horse making it through all that mud. I borrowed him in Gilly. Oh, God. Don't. Meggie, don't. No! What have you done to me? What might you do to me if I let you? It was good of you to be here, Father. It would have meant the world to Paddy... and to Stuie. It's curious, you know. When it looked as though the fire might take everything... I kept thinking of the most peculiar things. I didn't think of dying or the children... or this beautiful house in ruins. All I could think about were my accounts... the socks I was knitting for Paddy... the heart-shaped cake tins... Frank made me years ago.
How could I survive without them? All the little things. Things which can't be replaced. It's too late, like all my life. Too late for him, too late for me. I can never take my Paddy in my arms now. I can never say to him... the only thing he ever wanted me to say, that I loved him. The only thing he ever wanted me to say, that I loved him. I do love him, Father. You'll never see me weep again. I'm finished with tears forever. You do have two sons left you, Fee... and you have Meggie. It's not too late for Meggie. –Meggie? –Will you promise me something? If you like. Look after Meggie. Don't forget her. Make her go to the local dances, meet the young men. Help her look around her world and find some good, kind man to marry... who'll give her children and a home of her own. It's time. –Whatever you say, Father. –Fee, she's your daughter. It's as if you never remember that. Does any woman? What's a daughter? Just a reminder of the pain... a younger version of oneself... who will do all the same things, cry the same tears. No, Father. I try to forget I have a daughter. It survived.
Meggie, I need no reminder of you. Not now, not ever. I carry you within me. You know that. I must go. Yes. Everything's all right now. All in order. The dead are buried and blessed... and you and Mom have my life planned out. Meggie, we must make an end to this. My life belongs to God. You've always known that. That dear and gentle God... who has taken from me everyone that I've loved most in the world. One by one. Frank, and Hal... and Stuie... and my father. And you, of course. Always you. God is merciful. There'll be no one else to grieve. He is merciful. I know you can't see that now, but he is. He spared the rose. He sent the rain. Who sent the fire? Good, they've come. Nice to see them after two years of not even enough sheep to need them. All new lads, I think. Not a bad-looking lot, for shearing men. –That one's quite a dandy. –Which?
The one in the white, you mean. I suppose he's all right. Bet he spends all his time washing and ironing, just to keep up appearances. I'll bet a man with his looks doesn't have to do his own washing. Mrs Smith. Get this wool! All right, lads! There's your day! You know, you owe me one. You're a regular dreadnought, aren't you? What about you? Never saw a boss cocky who could shear like that. I like to keep a hand in. You're O'Neill, aren't you? Yes, sir, Luke O'Neill. Look at this, Bob. O'Neill shore 200. Just a couple ahead of you. The lads have been talking about getting up a contest between you two. –Are they, now? –Well, you know... they always are eager to win a few quid wagering. Why not? What do you think, O'Neill? The fact is, I'm not much on contests... but thank you all the same, Mr Cleary. –Good day, miss. –Good day. Fresh as a daisy, are we? Nothing like shearing a ton or two of sheep to set a man up. I'm Luke O'Neill. –I take it you're the famous Meggie Cleary.
–Do you? How did you come by that information? I saw you cooling yourself on your nice, big veranda. –And they said you were a beauty. –Really? What else did they tell you? You'd be surprised what a bloke can learn if he's interested. Judy... Mrs Smith was looking for you. Something about the washing up. Yes, Mr Cleary. Judy? That wasn't nice. Still interested? Listen, man, you ought to give that contest a bit more thought. You're a good match for Bob. I could out-shear Bob Cleary any day... if I was cruel enough to show him up in front of these men. Bob's not like that. And what do you care, anyway? You'll be going down the track in a couple of weeks. Pete, who's that girl? That's just Meggie. Now, listen... there's good money in this contest, I'm telling you. Shouldn't swim alone, you know. Too dangerous. And what are you doing here? Seeing you don't drown. I don't know why you'd swim in that thing, anyway. It smells like hell. It's the sulfur.
I'm Luke O'Neill. Meggie Cleary. Meggie? That doesn't suit you a bit. Not enough dignity. I'm going to call you Meghann. I detest the name Meghann. Good night, Meghann. I often wonder what can account for such sadness... in a face with so much spiritual beauty. I should be sorry to think that I look sad when I pray, Your Grace. No, but it's true. And at other times... when you think no one is watching. And the passage of time seems only to deepen it, my Ralph. Perhaps it's the Irish strain in me. We're a tragic lot, you know. You received a wire from the Vatican this morning. The Athens Conference is all arranged. I'll soon have our travel plans in order. Splendid. The Church is long overdue for some discussions... with our Greek Orthodox brethren. I'm delighted you want me to accompany you. It will be excellent training for you. A good opportunity to nourish your career as a church diplomat. And besides, you know very well... that you have become indispensable to me, my dear Ralph. If you're not with me, how could I possibly continue... my interesting little game of working out... precisely what makes you tick? It's too early to tell, but we could have one of the biggest clips ever. It's nice to see the place get back on something like a paying basis. I don't believe it was only two years ago, Christmas, that we were almost burnt out. Couldn't have done it without Father Ralph... advancing us the money for new stock. Good day, Meghann.
Missus. Good day, O'Neill. What can we do for you? –I've come about the shearing contest. –I thought you weren't interested. The lads have been on at me about it, so I thought I might give it a go. Fine, just name your terms. If I was to win, what would you say to hire me as a stockman? –A stockman? –Just for a month, say, to try me out. I know my way around livestock, all right. I thought we weren't hiring any new stockmen this year. If Luke here is as good in the saddle as he is at the board... Stone the crows, you'd think I'd already lost this contest. What if you lost, O'Neill? Same terms, except I work the month for free. You'll actually work for no wages just to be a stockman? But that's daft. You could make more at shearing, anyway. Yeah, but a shearer's a rover. I don't intend to be a rover all my life. And I do like it here on Drogheda. All right, lads, this is the last call. Gentlemen, let's hear them. This £5 on Cleary. I'll match any of that. Now, we all know the rules. The men will shear for two hours only... and since my own brother's in there, I'm stepping out. So I want one of you shearing men to keep score... and you, Drogheda lads, choose a man to watch the time. –Are we ready, men?
–Yeah! Mr Cleary, show him what a boss cocky can do. We'll show him! Hold him steady, O'Neill. Come on! Here we go. Come on. All right, Mr Cleary, come clear. Just squeeze him through the breezer. Hurry up! Down the chute! Good show, O'Neill! You're making twice the number of blows because you're not filling your shears. Fill your shears, boy! Don't let us down. Come on, O'Neill. That's it, O'Neill, you've got him on the run now! –Come on! –Jack, who's winning? It's only half-over, still an hour to go. But looks like old Bob's losing so far. Losing? Come on, Meggie. Judy, you go back to the house. You can do it. Long blows, Mr Cleary. Fill your shears, boy! Luke, pay attention! Come on, Bob, let's show them what Drogheda men are made of! –I could out-shear that learner.
–That's his job, missus. Stay in there, Bob! You can do it! Don't stop! Keep going! Come on, Bob! Two minutes to go! Go! Go! What did I tell you? I taught him myself! What about a cheer for a bonzer opponent? Luke O'Neill! Hip, hip, hooray! There's not a pub around for 40 miles, but if a barrel of rum and another of ale... will take away the sting, they're outside! Well done, Bob. That's my Bob. Feel like a champion, then, Bob? –Congratulations, Mr Cleary. –Bob. It was only by half a sheep. Could have gone the other way. You've got yourself a stockman, free of charge for the next month. Then if you like what you see... There's not much to see here now we got the wool away. I wonder you didn't go with it. You don't appear to have made much of a bargain here. I'm happy with it. There's a dance next Saturday night. Will you come with me?
Thank you, but I can't dance so there wouldn't be much point. There's nothing to dancing. I could teach you in two flicks of a lamb's tail. Wonder if your brother would lend us the car. We ought to go in style, don't you think? –I said I wouldn't go. –No. You said you couldn't dance... and I said I'd teach you. Not scared, are you? No. Not here. It's only a wool shed, you know. And it's a wool-shed ball we're going to. Now... One, two, three... One, two, three... –Having fun? –Don't let go of me. I don't intend to. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in that dress. Thank you. I don't really like it, but it's the only party dress I have. Go on, a posh girl like you? You could've bought as many dresses as you liked. Is that what you think? That I'm some snobby squatter's daughter? Because I'm not. The Clearys don't even own Drogheda, and we never will. Touched a nerve, didn't I? I'm sorry, Meghann.
I know the blessed papists did you out of your place. –What do you mean? –My, but we're sensitive. I suppose now you'll never have me because I'm Protestant. –You are? –Orange through and through. I think the Catholic Church is run by a bunch of poofters... in black nightgowns. You do waltz divinely, Mr O'Neill. I do hope Meggie is not intending to be selfish. It would be an honor to dance with you, Miss Carmichael... but, you see, Miss Cleary here has hired me for the whole night. –This isn't so bad, is it? –What? –Dancing. –I think I'm learning to like it. Good, 'cause there's another dance next week... and the week after that, and the week after that. So I went to the wool shed when I was 12, as a tar-boy. Me and my mate, Arne Swenson. He's the best, Arne is. Always looked out for me. –Is he still shearing? –No, not Arne. He runs a gang of cane-cutters up in northern Queensland. You reckon shearing's hard, but I tell you there's not too many blokes... big enough or strong enough to cut the sugarcane. You make it sound like your life's ambition. I wouldn't mind trying it for the money it can make. My life's ambition is to have my own place... my own sheep station, up in western Queensland, where I come from. And I will someday, too, have my own place. And someone to share it with. Someone who'll love me and work alongside me. God, you are beautiful.
How many times have you been in love? Only once. Whoever he was, he was a fool to let you go. Good night, Meghann. You did not understand this play, Phaedra? You've noticed how quiet I've been through the conference here in Athens. My Greek isn't up to yours, I'm afraid, Your Grace. You must study your languages if you're to be a church diplomat. The dying youth in the play is Hippolytus. He is cold to Aphrodite, the goddess of love. To punish him for his neglect... she causes his mother to fall hopelessly in love with him. But, Hippolytus spurns her. And that's why she kills herself? Hippolytus' father blames him and has him killed... by the God of the sea. A cruel story, and so unjust. Hippolytus dies even though he's innocent. In fact, he behaves laudably. A good Catholic interpretation, yes, perhaps. But to the ancient Greeks... he is quite guilty of the sin of pride. You see, it is that Hippolytus holds himself... above human love. He's cold. He will not even admit that human passion exists. And what if he would admit it? Would he then escape his fate? That is the cruelty... because this is his fate. He cannot choose to love... anymore than his poor mother can choose to be cold. The gods have willed it for their sport. Cruel, but rather an appealing system, is it not? No decisions to make, no conscience, no agony of free will... nothing. All fated from the first.
Rather shockingly at odds with the teachings of the Church of Rome. My dear Ralph, do you not find it humbling to realize... that when this play was first performed... Rome was still infested with fur-clad barbarians? They simply find you beautiful. Blessed by the gods, perhaps? They've been out together again. I don't see the harm. He never lets it get in the way of work. But I'm beginning to see why he likes it so much here. I'm just as glad. He's the only man Meggie's ever shown the least bit of interest in. And somebody's got to keep the Cleary line going. I hope that Meggie is all he wants. I saw Angus MacQueen in Gilly the other day. He seemed to think that Luke might be something of a fortune hunter. A fortune hunter, Luke? Of course, Meggie does have the money Father Ralph sets by for her... but it's not what I'd call a fortune. Some might, though. But I think he's just what he appears to be. A hardworking bloke with plenty of ambition. I suppose you're right. Anyway, Meggie's a grown woman. How she chooses to spend her life or her money is her own affair, isn't it? You know... I was just thinking... of that old woman in the market. She reminded me of how very certain I once was... that I had found your Achilles' heel. Those looks of yours... They had to have made you the target, or perhaps even the victim... of so many desires. But, I have tested you... had you watched... thrown you together with beautiful women, and with men. No result.

Subsets and Splits

No community queries yet

The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.