[In the dark, a candle catches beside a beaked mask lying on a table.]
They called me doctor. I never cured anyone.
[The harbour of Messina at night: galleys come in through the mist, under the lanterns of the walls.]
October 1347. Twelve galleys sail into the harbour of Messina. Their sailors lie dead at the oars.
[The deck of a galley: the oars, a lantern, coiled ropes, and a rat on the gunwale.]
And with them comes ashore a sickness no one can name.
[A nave full of candles for the dead: a third of them go out, then half.]
In four years, it takes one European in three. Perhaps one in two.
[A doctor without a mask, at a sick man’s bedside, studies a flask by candlelight.]
I did not exist yet. The doctors of 1347 had no beak and no coat.
[Old hands hold a rosary; the candle flickers and goes out.]
They had prayers and bloodletting, and they died beside the dying.
[A candle is lit again on a desk: a hand draws a beaked mask with a quill.]
They say I was born in Paris, in 1619, in the mind of the king’s physician.
[The whole costume, from the hem of the leather coat to the gloves, the hat, then the mask.]
A leather coat, gloves, a hat, and me. A nose half a foot long, filled with perfume.
[Gloved hands stuff the beak with lavender, cloves and petals; smoke drifts past the window.]
They stuffed me with cloves, camphor, rose petals. They believed death travelled on the air.
[The 1656 engraving, Der Doctor Schnabel von Rom (British Museum): the beak, the coat, then the whole sheet.]
In 1656, a German engraving made me the Beak Doctor of Rome. That is the picture that outlived them all.
[A laboratory microscope, then rod-shaped bacteria, then a flea.]
In 1894, Alexandre Yersin finally found the culprit: a bacterium. Later, we learned it travels in fleas.
[The mask on its table; dried petals fall past the beak.]
My herbs never stopped a thing.
[A street on Halloween night: lit pumpkins, a figure in a beaked mask.]
Today, I heal no one. My night is the 31st of October.
[A party: the masked figure in the doorway, then a table of friends laughing. Last, the empty table, the candle going out, and the title: 1347, the plague doctor mask, for the night of the 31st.]
When I walk into a room, everyone falls silent, then everyone smiles.