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diff --git a/old/11878.txt b/old/11878.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..635db84 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11878.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8843 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Three Plays, by Padraic Colum + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Three Plays + +Author: Padraic Colum + +Release Date: April 3, 2004 [EBook #11878] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE PLAYS *** + + + + +Produced by Distributed Proofreaders. + + + + + + + + +THREE PLAYS + + THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE + THE LAND + THOMAS MUSKERRY + +BY +PADRAIC COLUM + +BOSTON +LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY + +1916 + +TO MY FRIEND +THOMAS HUGHES KELLY +THESE THREE IRISH PLAYS + + + + + + _AUTHOR'S NOTE_ + +I have been asked to say something about the intentions and ideas +that underlie the three short plays in this volume. + +These plays were conceived in the early days of the Irish National +Theatre. I had been one of the group that formed the National +Theatre Society and I wrote plays for players who were my colleagues +and my instructors; I wrote them for a small, barely-furnished stage +in a small theatre; I wrote them, too, for an audience that was +tremendously interested in every expression of national character. +"The Land" was written to celebrate the redemption of the soil of +Ireland--an event made possible by the Land Act of 1903. This event, +as it represented the passing of Irish acres from an alien +landlordism, was considered to be of national importance. "The Land" +also dealt with a movement that ran counter to the rooting of the +Celtic people in the soil--emigration--the emigration to America of +the young and the fit. In "The Land" I tried to show that it was not +altogether an economic necessity that was driving young men and +women out of the Irish rural districts; the lack of life and the +lack of freedom there had much to do with emigration. + +"The Land" touched upon a typical conflict, the conflict between the +individual and that which, in Ireland, has much authority, the +family group. This particular conflict was shown again in "The +Fiddler's House." where the life, not of the actual peasants, but of +rural people with artistic and aristocratic traditions, was shown. + +I tried to show the same conflict working out more tragically in the +play of middle-class life, "Thomas Muskerry." Here I went above the +peasant and the wandering artist and came to the official. I had +intended to make plays about the merchant, the landowner, the +political and the intellectual leader and so write a chapter in an +Irish Human Comedy. But while I was thinking of the play that is +third in this volume my connection with the National Theatre Society +was broken off. "Thomas Muskerry" was produced in the Abbey Theatre +after I had ceased to be a member of the group that had founded it. + + PADRAIC COLUM + NEW YORK + _August, 1916_ + + + + + _CONTENTS_ + + AUTHOR'S NOTE + THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE + THE LAND: AN AGRARIAN COMEDY IN THREE ACTS + THOMAS MUSKERRY + + + + + _THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE_ + + + + _CHARACTERS_ + +CONN HOURICAN, a Fiddler. +MAIRE (Mary) [1] HOURICAN, his daughter. +ANNE HOURICAN, a younger daughter. +BRIAN MACCONNELL, a younger farmer. +JAMES MOYNIHAN, a farmer's son. + +The action passes in the Houricans' house in the Irish Midlands. + +[Footnote 1: The name is pronounced as if written "Maurya."] + + + + +ACT I + + + SCENE: _The interior of a farmer's cottage; the kitchen. The + entrance is at the back right. To the left is the fire-place, an + open hearth, with a fire of peat. There is a room door to the right, + a pace below the entrance; and another room door below the fire-place. + Between the room door and the entrance there is a row of wooden pegs, + on which men's coats hang. Below this door is a dresser containing + pretty delpht. There is a small window at back, a settle bed folded + into a high bench; a small mirror hangs right of the window. A + backed chair and some stools are about the hearth. A table to the + right with cloth and tea things on it. The cottage looks pretty and + comfortable. It is towards the close of an Autumn day_. + + _James Moynihan has finished tea; Anne Hourican is at the back, + seated on the settle knitting, and watching James. James Moynihan is + about twenty-eight. He has a good forehead, but his face is + indeterminate. He has been working in the fields, and is dressed in + trousers, shirt, and heavy boots. Anne Hourican is a pretty, + dark-haired girl of about nineteen_. + + _James Moynihan rises_. + +ANNE +And so you can't stay any longer, James? + +JAMES +_(with a certain solemnity)_ No, Anne. I told my father I'd be +back while there was light, and I'm going back. _(He goes to the rack, +takes his coat, and puts it on him)_ Come over to our house to-night, +Anne. I'll be watching the girls coming in, and thinking on yourself; +there's none of them your match for grace and favour. My father +wanted me to see a girl in Arvach. She has three hundred pounds, +besides what the priest, her uncle, will leave her. "Father," says I, +"listen to me now. Haven't I always worked for you like a steady, +useful boy?" "You have," says he. "Did I ever ask you for anything +unreasonable?" says I. "No," says he. "Well then," says I, "don't +ask me to do unreasonable things. I'm fond of Anne Hourican, and not +another girl will I marry. What's money, after all?" says I, +"there's gold on the whin-bushes if you only knew it." And he had to +leave it at that. + +ANNE +You always bring people around. + +JAMES +The quiet, reasonable way is the way that people like. + +ANNE +Still, with all, I'm shy of going into your house. + +JAMES +Don't doubt but there'll be a welcome before you; come round +with Maire. + + _Anne rises, and comes to him. She has graceful, bird-like movements._ + +ANNE +_(putting her hands on James' shoulders)_ Maybe we won't have a +chance of seeing each other after all. + + _James Moynihan kisses her reverently_ + +JAMES +Sit down now, Anne, because there's something I want to show +you. Do you ever see "The Shamrock"? + +ANNE +Very seldom. + + _James and Anne go to the settle; they sit down_. + +JAMES +There be good pieces in it sometimes. There's a poem of mine +in it this week. + +ANNE +Of yours, James? Printed, do you mean? + +JAMES +Ay, printed. _(He takes a paper out of his pocket, and opens it)_ +It's a poem to yourself, though your name doesn't come into it. +_(Gives paper)_ Let no one see it, Anne, at least not for the present. +And now, good-bye. + + _Goes to the door. Anne continues reading the verse eagerly. At the + door James turns and recites_:-- + + When lights are failing, and skies are paling, + And leaves are sailing a-down the air, + O, it's then that love lifts my heart above + My roving thoughts and my petty care; + And though the gloom be like the tomb, + Where there's no room for my love and me, + O, still I'll find you, and still I'll bind you, + My wild sweet rose of Aughnalee! + +That's the first stanza. Good-bye. + + _James goes out. Anne continues reading, then she leaves the paper + down with a sigh_. + +ANNE +O, it's lovely! _(She takes the paper up again, rises and goes +to the door. She remains looking out. Some one speaks to her)_ No, +Brian, Maire's not back yet. Ay, I'll engage she'll give you a call +when she does come back. _(Anne turns back. She opens drawer in the +dresser and puts paper in. She begins to clear table, putting the +delpht back on dresser. To herself, anxiously)_ I hope Maire won't +forget to call at the mill. _(Room door right opens, and Conn +Hourican comes down. Conn Hourican is a man of about fifty, with +clear-cut, powerful features, his face is clean-shaven, his +expression vehement. His dress is old-fashioned. He wears +knee-breeches, a frieze coat rather long, a linen shirt with a +little linen collar and a black string for bow. He carries a slick +and moves about restlessly)_ + +ANNE +Had Maire any talk of going to the mill, father? + +CONN +I heard nothing of it. + +ANNE +I hope she'll mind of it. We must get the meal there, and not +be going to the shop so often. + +CONN +I suppose we must. + + _He moves about restlessly_. + +ANNE +And I was just thinking that one of us ought to go to Arvach on +Tuesday, and get the things there. + +CONN +The mean, odious creatures! + + _Anne is startled. She turns from dresser_. + +ANNE +What are you thinking of, father? + +CONN +That den of robbers. Well, well, I'm finished with them now; +but I'm a proud man, and a passionate man, and I'll be even with +them yet. + +ANNE +There's no comfort in going into rough places. + +CONN +You know nothing at all about it. Were the men in yet? + +ANNE +James Moynihan was here, because he had to go away early; but +Brian MacConnell is outside still. Father, you were home late two +nights this week. + +CONN +And is a man to have no life to himself? But sure you know +nothing at all about it. I'm going out now to give Brian MacConnell +a hand. + +ANNE +It's hardly worth while going out now. + +CONN +There's still light enough to do a bit of mowing, and you ought +to know that it isn't right to neglect the boy that's come to do a +day's work with you. _(Going to the door)_ Many's the day I put in +with the scythe in Ireland, and in England too; I did more than +stroll with the fiddle, and I saw more places than where fiddling +brought me. _(Brian MacConnell comes to the door)_ I was just going +out to you, Brian. I was telling the girl here that it's not right +to neglect the boy that's giving you a day's work out of his own +goodness. + +BRIAN +I'm only coming in for a light. + +CONN +As you're here now, rest yourself. + + _Brian MacConnell comes in, and goes over to the hearth. He is dark + and good-looking, and has something reckless in his look. He wears + corduroy trousers, and a shirt loose at the neck. Anne comes to Brian. + Conn stands at entrance, his back turned_. + +BRIAN +_(lighting his pipe with a coal)_ When do you expect Maire back? + +ANNE +She'll be here soon. Shell give you a call if you're outside, + +BRIAN +How is it you couldn't keep James Moynihan? + +ANNE +It's because you didn't say the good word for me, I must think. +Be sure you praise me the next time you're working together. + +BRIAN +Will you do as much for me? + +ANNE +Indeed, I will, Brian. Myself and another are making a devotion +to Saint Anthony. + +BRIAN +And what would that be for? + +ANNE +That the Saint might send us good comrades. + +BRIAN +I thought it was Saint Joseph did that for the girls. + +ANNE +Sure we couldn't be asking the like from him. We couldn't talk +to Saint Joseph that way. We want a nice young saint to be looking at. + + _Conn turns from the door_. + +CONN +_(bitterly)_ It'll be a poor season, Brian MacConnell. + +BRIAN +The season's not so bad, after all. + +CONN +God help them that are depending on the land and the weather +for the bit they put into their heads. It's no wonder that the +people here are the sort they are, harassed, anxious people. + +ANNE +The people here mind their own business, and they're a friendly +people besides. + +CONN +People that would leave the best fiddler at the fair to go and +look at a bullock. + +ANNE +_(to Brian)_ He's not satisfied to have this shelter, Brian. + +CONN +_(to Brian)_ I'm saying, Brian, that her mother had this shelter, +and she left it to go the roads with myself. + +ANNE +That God may rest my mother. It's a pity she never lived to +come back to the place. But we ought to be praising grandmother +night and day, for leaving this place to Maire. + +CONN +Your grandmother did that as she did everything else. + +ANNE +_(to Brian)_ Now, Brian, what would you do with a man that +would say the like? + + _Anne goes outside._ + +CONN +_(to Brian)_ It's small blame to the girl here for thinking +something of the place; but I saw the time, Brian MacConnell, when I +could make more playing at one fair than working a whole season in +this bit of a place. + +BRIAN +Girls like the shelter, Conn. + +CONN +Ay, but the road for the fiddler. I'm five years settled here, +and I come to be as well known as the begging ass, and there is as +much thought about me. Fiddling, let me tell you, isn't like a boy's +whistling. It can't be kept up on nothing. + +BRIAN +I understand that, Conn. + +CONN +I'm getting that I can't stand the talk you hear in houses, +wars and Parliaments, and the devil knows what _ramais_. + +BRIAN +There's still a welcome for the man of art, somewhere. + +CONN +That somewhere's getting further and further away, Brian. + +BRIAN +You were not in the town last night? + +CONN +I was not, Brian. God help me, I spent the night my lone. + +BRIAN +There's Sligomen in the town. + +CONN +Is there, now? It would be like our times to play for them. +_(Anne comes in with some peat)_ Anne, would you bring me down my +spectacles? They're in the room, daughter. _(Anne goes to room. Conn +turns to Brian eagerly) I_ suppose the Sligomen will be in Flynn's. + +BRIAN +They were there last night. + +CONN +Listen, Brian, I've a reason for not going to Flynn's. Would +you believe it, Brian, Flynn spoke to me about the few shillings I +owe him? + +BRIAN +That was shabby of him. He got a lot out of you in the way of +playing. + +CONN +It's just like them. Besides, Maire keeps us tight enough, and +I often have to take treats from the men. They're drovers and +rambling labourers and the like, though, as you say, they've the +song and music, and the proper talk. Listen, Brian, could you leave +a few shillings on the dresser for me? + +BRIAN +To be sure I will, Conn. + + _Brian goes to the dresser, and puts money on a shelf_. + +CONN +_(with dignity)_ Thank you, Brian. There's few I'd let put me +under a compliment; but I take it from you. Maire, as I said, is a +careful girl, but some of us must have our freedom. Besides, Brian, +the bird that sings lone sings slow. The man of art must have his +listeners. _(Conn takes the money off dresser)_ Anne, daughter, +what's keeping you there? Sure the spectacles were in my pocket the +whole time, child. _(Anne comes dawn)_ When I spoke against the +people about here, I was leaving you out of it, Brian. + +BRIAN +I'm fond of tune, though it wasn't here I got fond of it. + + _Brian goes to the door_. + +ANNE +_(going to Brian)_ You won't be rambling again, Brian? + +BRIAN +I'm settled here, Anne; I made it up with my brothers. + +ANNE +They used to say that a MacConnell quarrel was a lasting quarrel. + +BRIAN +Maybe we're working the bad blood out of us. + +ANNE +Don't be staying out long, Brian. + +BRIAN +Till Maire gives me the call. + + _Brian MacConnell goes out_. + +ANNE +We oughtn't to take another clay from Brian MacConnell. There's +only the patch at the back to be mown, and you could do that yourself. + +CONN +You can depend on me for the mowing. I'm going up now, to go +over an oul' tune I have. + +ANNE +James Moynihan would come over and stack for us. + +CONN +James Moynihan is a decent boy, too. + +ANNE +You won't be going out to-night, father? + +CONN +Now, how's a man to know what he'll be doing? + +ANNE +It leaves me very anxious. + +CONN +I'll give you this advice, and it's proper advice to give to a +girl thinking of marrying. Never ask of your menkind where they're +going. + +ANNE +The like of that brings bad luck on a house. + +CONN +You have too much dead knowledge, and the shut fist never +caught a bird. + +ANNE +I only wish you were settled down. + +CONN +Sure I am settled down. + +ANNE +I can't speak to you, after all. + +CONN +You're a good girl, Anne, and he'll be lucky that gets you. And +don't be grieving that you're not bringing James Moynihan a fortune. +You're bringing him the decency of birth and rearing. You're like the +lone pigeon I often think--the pet that doesn't fly, and keeps near +the house. + +ANNE +That's the way you always treat me, and I never can talk to you. + +CONN +_(at window)_ Hush now, here's the other, your sister Maire. +She's like the wild pigeon of the woods. _(Maire Hourican comes in)_ +We were discoursing on affairs, Maire. We won't be bringing Brian +MacConnell here tomorrow; there's only the bit at the back to be mown, +and I'll do that myself. + + _Conn Hourican goes into the room right; soon after the fiddle is + heard. Anne goes to the settle, and takes up her knitting. Maire + takes her shawl off, and hangs it on the rack. Maire Hourican is + over twenty. She is tall, and has easy, graceful movements; her + features are fine and clear-cut; the nose is rather blunted, the + mouth firm. Her gaze is direct and clear. She has heavy auburn hair, + loose now, and falling. Maire comes down to the table, opens basket, + and takes some flowers from top. She turns to dresser and arranges + some of the flowers in a jar_. + +MAIRE +We'd have no right to take another day from Brian. And when +there's no one here to-morrow, you and me could draw some of the turf. + +ANNE +Your hair is loose, Maire. + + _Maire goes to the mirror and fixes her hair_. + +MAIRE +The wind blew it about me, and then I let it down. I came home +by the long way, just to feel young again with my hair about me. + +ANNE +And did you meet any one? + +MAIRE +Indeed I did. I met James Moynihan. + +ANNE +James had to go early. They're building at his place. + +MAIRE +Indeed they ought to let James build a house for himself. ANNE +Some day they will, Maire. + +MAIRE But +we must not let some day be a far day. + +ANNE +_(hesitatingly)_ I think I'll show you something. + +MAIRE What is it, daughter? + + _Anne rises and goes to the dresser. She opens drawer. Maire + watches her_. + +MAIRE +_(waiting)_ I made a good girl out of you, anyway. + +ANNE +You wouldn't let me use stroller words when we were on the road. +Do you mind of that? + +MAIRE +I kept you to the mannerly ways. I have that to my credit. + +ANNE +_(showing Maire the verses)_ Read that, Maire. It was James +that made it. + +MAIRE +It's a song, I declare. + +ANNE +No, Maire, it's a poem. + +MAIRE +A poem? O, that's grand! + + _She begins to read it eagerly_. + +ANNE +And, Maire-- + +MAIRE +Well? + +ANNE +James says it's about me. + +MAIRE +About you? O, I wish some one would put me into a song, or into a poem; +I suppose a poem would be best. You might ask James. No, I'll coax him +myself. Ah, no I won't, Anne. + +ANNE +You may keep it for a while, but don't let any one know. + +MAIRE +He must be very fond of you, and I thinking him so quiet. + +ANNE +_(happy)_ He has grand thoughts about me. + +MAIRE +Well, you'll be seeing him to-night. + +ANNE +I don't know that I'll go out to-night. + +MAIRE +Sure Grace Moynihan asked us to go over. + +ANNE +I'm shy of going into James'. + +MAIRE +Anne, you're the only one of us that has any manners. Maybe +you're right not to go. + +ANNE +I'll stay in to-night. + +MAIRE +Then Brian and myself will go to Moynihan's. + +ANNE +You'd get an indulgence, Maire, if you missed a dance. + +MAIRE +Would it be so hard to get an indulgence? _(She takes flowers +from dresser and puts them in window)_ The house looks nice this +evening. We'll keep Brian here for a while, and then we'll go to +Moynihan's. + +ANNE +Father will be going out to-night. + +MAIRE +_(turning suddenly from window)_ Will he? + +ANNE +He will. I think I ought to stay in. Maire, father was in only +a while before you the night before last and another night. + +MAIRE +O, and I thinking things were going so well with us. He's +drinking again. + +ANNE +He's going to Flynn's again. + +MAIRE +Disgracing us again. + +ANNE +I'll stay in to-night. + +MAIRE +I'm tired of this. + +ANNE +Don't say it that way, Maire. + +MAIRE +What will people say of us two now? + +ANNE +I'll talk to him to-night. + +MAIRE +No, you're going out--you're going to Moynihan's--you're going +to see your sweetheart. + +ANNE +I think you're becoming a stranger to us, Maire. + +MAIRE +You're going to Moynihan's to-night, and I'm going, too. But I'm going +to settle this first. Once and for all I'm going to settle this. + + _The fiddle has ceased. As Maire goes towards the room, Conn + Hourican comes down, the fiddle in his hand_. + +CONN +Were you listening to the tune I was playing? Ah, that was a +real oul tune, if there was anyone that knew it. Maire, my jewel, +were you listening? + +MAIRE +I heard you. + +CONN +It was a real oul' tune, and while I was playing it a great +scheme came into my head. Now, listen to me, Maire; and you listen, +too, Anne. Both of you would like to see your father having what's +his due after all, honour and respect. + +MAIRE +Both of us would like to see our father earn the same. + +CONN +I could earn the same, ay, and gold and silver cups besides, if +I had the mind to earn them. + + _He puts fiddle on table and prepares to speak impressively_. + +CONN +Let ye listen to me now; I've a scheme to put before ye. When I +was going over the oul tune, I remembered that I'd heard of a Feis +[2] that's coming on soon, the Feis of Ardagh. I'm thinking of going +there. There will be great prizes for some one; I don't doubt but +I'd do at Ardagh better than I did at the Feis of Granard, where +people as high as bishops were proud and glad to know Conn Hourican +the Fiddler. + +[Footnote 2: Feis, pronounced Fesh, a musical or literary gathering, +with competitions.] + +ANNE +Father, you've a place to mind. + +CONN +I'm tired of that kind of talk; sure I'm always thinking of the +place. Maire hasn't little notions. What do you say to it, Maire, my +girl? + +MAIRE +What do I say? I say you're not a rambler now, though indeed +you behave like one. + +CONN +You have something against me, Maire. + +MAIRE +I have. + +CONN +What has she against me, Anne? + +MAIRE +All the promises you broke. + +CONN +You were listening to what the town is saying. + +MAIRE +What does the town know? Does it know that you stripped us of +stock and crop the year after we came here? Does it know that Anne +and myself, two girls of the roads, had to struggle ever since to +keep a shelter? + +CONN +_(bitterly)_ It knows that. It couldn't help but know it, maybe. +But does it know all the promises you made and broke? + +CONN +_(angrily)_ Hush now; I'll hear no more. I went my own way +always, and I'll go my own way always. + + _He goes to the entrance, and remains with his back turned. Maire + goes to Anne_. + +MAIRE +_(raising her voice)_ Ay, he'll go his own way always. What +was the good of working and saving here? + +ANNE +Be quiet with him. + +MAIRE +He'll go his own way always, and it's foolish of us to be +fretting for him night and day. + + _Maire sits on stool and puts her hands across her face_. + +CONN +_(turning his head)_ Fretting for me. It was too easy that I +reared you. + +ANNE +God help Maire! She kept the house together at the worst, and +she is always fretting for us. + +CONN +I'm oul' enough to mind myself. Let her remember that. + +ANNE +It's you that ought to remember that. + +CONN +_(going to Maire)_ Did I ever give the harsh word to you, child? + + _No answer_. + +CONN +There, there; I never could see tears in a woman's eyes; there, +there, colleen. I'm an oul' man; I won't be a trouble to you long. + +MAIRE +_(rising)_ Why need you play in Flynn's? You're as good as any +that goes there. + +CONN +I know that. I'm disgusted with Flynn. May hell loosen his +knees for him! I'll go in and throw his money on the counter. + +MAIRE +Some one else can do that. Promise me you won't go near the +place. + +CONN +You'll have me promise. I promise. + +MAIRE +Take this in your hand and promise. It's a medal that belonged +to mother. + + _She takes a medal from her neck_ + +CONN +_(taking the medal)_ I'm disgusted with Flynn. I promise you, +Maire. + +MAIRE +Now you've honour and respect. + +CONN +And what about Ardagh, Maire? + +MAIRE +Sure, you're not the rambling fiddler any more. + +CONN +That would be the good rambling. I see the trees making shadows +across the roads. + +MAIRE +We'll talk about it again. + +ANNE +Brian MacConnell will be coming in now. CONN I'm going out to +Brian MacConnell. + + _He goes to the door_. + +ANNE +Tell Brian to come in now. + + _Conn Hourican goes out. There is a pause. Maire hums a tune as she + goes to the mirror_. + +MAIRE +Am I looking well to-day? + +ANNE +_(rather distantly)_ You're looking your best, I think. +_(Seriously)_ Maire, I didn't like the way you talked to father. + +MAIRE +_(petulantly)_ What have you against it? + +ANNE +You're becoming a stranger to us, Maire. + +MAIRE +_(as an apology)_ I'm out often, I know, but I think as much +as ever of the house, and about you and father. You know we couldn't +let him go to the Feis at Ardagh. We couldn't let him go off like a +rambling fiddler. + +ANNE +We couldn't let him go off by himself. + +MAIRE +You're going to Moynihan's. + +ANNE +Maybe I'll go. + +MAIRE +Anne, honey, do something for me. + +ANNE +What will I do? + +MAIRE +You'll meet father coming up with Brian, and take him away. + +ANNE +And will you tell me everything to-night? + +MAIRE +Who else would I talk to but yourself, Nancy? _(Anne goes out)_ +I wish Anne hadn't spoken to me like that. I feel the like of that. +_(Desperately)_ Well, I'll pray for nothing now but to look my best. +_(She goes to the fire. Brian MacConnell comes in)_ You're welcome, +Brian. + +BRIAN +We didn't finish to-day. I'll come in to-morrow and finish. + +MAIRE +O no, Brian, we won't take another day from you. + +BRIAN +Well, what's a day after all? Many's the day and night I put +in thinking on you. + +MAIRE +But did you do what I asked you to do? + +BRIAN +I did. I made it up with my brothers. It was never my way +before. What I wanted I took with the strong hand; or if I mightn't +put the strong hand on it, I left it alone. + +MAIRE +_(eagerly)_ Tell me what your brother said to you. + +BRIAN +When I came up to the door, Hugh came out to meet me. +"What destruction are you bringing me?" he said. "There's my hand," +says I, "and I take your offer." MAIRE Ah, that's settled. You could +settle anything, Brian. _(She goes to the settle and sits down)_ I +wonder could you settle something for us? + +BRIAN +What is it, Maire? + +MAIRE +It's my father. He wants to be rambling again. He wants to be +going to some Feis. + +BRIAN +Sure, let him go. + + _He takes her hand_. + +MAIRE +I couldn't, Brian. Couldn't you help us? Couldn't you keep +father's mind on the right things? + +BRIAN +Sure, let the fiddler go on the roads. + +MAIRE +You might stay here this evening with ourselves. Father would +be glad to talk with you. + +BRIAN +_(putting his arm around her)_ But I want the two of us to be +seen in Moynihan's to-night. + +MAIRE +_(resistance in her voice)_ Stay here with us, and let all +that go by. + +BRIAN +Hugh will be there with that woman that brought him the big +fortune; and I want you to take the shine out of her. + +MAIRE +_(rising)_ I was out often lately. You know that, Brian. + + _She goes to chair at table, and sits away from him_. + +BRIAN +_(rising and going to her)_ But this night above all you must +be with me. + +MAIRE +_(turning to him impulsively)_ Stay here and I'll be as nice +to you as if we were in another house. _(He kisses her. She rises +and goes from him)_ If you knew me at all, Brian MacConnell, that's +not the way you'd treat me. + +BRIAN +Are you not coming out with me? + +MAIRE +You must leave me to myself now. _(Conn Hourican comes in)_ Is +Anne with you, father? + +CONN +She's gathering posies or something like that. Brian, did you +hear about the Feis at Ardagh? + +MAIRE +_(with vehemence)_ Oh, what's the good of talking about that? +You can't go. + +CONN +Can't go, did you say, girl? + +MAIRE +Oh, how could you go? + +CONN +Is that the way? Well, God help us. Give me that fiddle till I +leave it up. + + _He takes the fiddle off dresser, and turns to go_. + +MAIRE +Father, let me be with you to-night; oh, I'm sorry if I vexed +you. _(No reply)_ Well, stay with Brian MacConnell; I'm going out to +Anne. + + _Maire goes out. Brian goes to rack, and puts on his coat_. + +BRIAN +Are you coming, Conn? I'm off. + +CONN +Where to, man? + +BRIAN +To Flynn's. + +CONN +I can't be going, I'm sorry to say. + +BRIAN +I'm going anyway. It's a great thing to be in the company of +men. + +CONN +Ay, in troth. Women, Brian, leave the heart of one very lonesome. + +BRIAN +_(masterfully)_ Why can't you come out? I thought you were +going to-night. + +CONN +I can't, Brian, and that reminds me. Give these few shillings +to Flynn for me. I'll owe them to you still. + +BRIAN +I'm not going to be bothered by the like. Why can't you come? + +CONN +I promised Maire. + + _Brian strides away. He turns, comes back deliberately, and sits on + table beside Conn_. + +BRIAN +They'll be all looking out for you at Flynn's. + +CONN +Well, the next time they see me they may respect me. + +BRIAN +Some of the boys will take it very unkindly. CONN They're +decent enough fellows, some of them. + +BRIAN +And above all nights they'll be watching out for you this night, +on account of the Sligomen. + +CONN +They're decent enough fellows, as I said, and I'll be sorry to +disappoint them. + +BRIAN +The Sligomen will have great stories about Shawn Heffernan. + +CONN +Shawn Heffernan! Is that impostor still alive? + +BRIAN +He is, and for fiddling these Sligomen think there's not the +like of him in the whole of Ireland. + +CONN +God help them if that's all they know. We played against each +other at the Granard Feis. He got the prize, but everybody knew that +it was me played the best. + +BRIAN +There's few of them alive now that mind of the Granard Feis. +He got the prize, and there's no talk of you at all. + +CONN +No talk of me at all? + +BRIAN +It's said that since you settled down you lost your art. + +CONN +And what had the men at Flynn's to say about that? BRIAN They +bragged about you for a while, but the Sligomen put them down. + +CONN +I wonder would we have time to go up, play a few tunes, and +come back, while Maire would be doing something? It would be a pity +not to give them fellows a lesson and close their ignorant mouths for +them. I wonder would we have time? _(Anne comes in with Maire)_ I +thought you went somewhere and left Brian and myself here. + +ANNE +We're going somewhere and Brian might come with us. + +MAIRE +Every one is going to Moynihan's. + +CONN +It's a pleasant house, a pleasant house. Brian will make his +_ceilidh [3]_ with me. We might go over a few tunes. + +ANNE +Let Brian come where there are girls that might miss him. + +MAIRE +Anne, you're a great one for keeping up the story that girls +are always thinking about men. + +ANNE +And so they are. Just as men are always thinking about girls. + +MAIRE +You'd make a good ribbonman.[4] You'd put a face on anything +you said. + +[Footnote 3: Celidh, pronounced cayley, a visit.] + +[Footnote 4: A ribbonman--a member of a secret agrarian society.] + +ANNE +Ribbonism and secret societies were denounced off the altar. + +MAIRE +Goodness! The men will begin to think they've secrets worth +telling. + +ANNE +Have you secrets worth telling, Brian? + +MAIRE +I daresay he has. There are foolish women in the world. + +ANNE +Are you coming to Moynihan's, Brian? + +BRIAN +No. I'm going where there's men. + +MAIRE +Come, Anne, till I deck you out. Come here, daughter, don't +wear flowers. I think they're unlucky. Here I am talking like this, +and I going to a dance. I suppose I'll dance with seven or eight and +forget what's on my mind.... Everyone is going to Moynihan's except +the men here. Are you going out, father? + +CONN +I'm making a _ceilidh_ with Brian. + +MAIRE +Well, God be with you both. Come on, Anne. + + _Maire takes down her shawl, and puts it over her head. She stands + at the door, watching Anne, who goes to Brian._ + +ANNE +Brian, what have you against Moynihan's? + +BRIAN +Nothing at all. I may go in. MAIRE Come on, Anne. God be with +you both. + + _Maire and Anne go out. They are heard talking for a while. Conn + goes to the door_. + +CONN +Maire and Anne are turning the bohereen. [5] Come on now. + + _He takes his fiddle and begins to wrap it up eagerly_. + +BRIAN +Ay, let's go. + +CONN +_(at door)_ I never forget, I never forget. The Granard Feis is +as fresh in my mind as the day I played at it. Shawn Heffernan, +indeed! I never forget. I never forget. + + _Conn Hourican and Brian MacConnell go out_. + +[Footnote 5: Bohereen--the little path going from the cottage to +the main road.] + +CURTAIN + + + + +ACT II + + _The next day: The scene is as in previous Act. It is now in the + forenoon. Maire Hourican is seated at the fire in a listless attitude. + Anne is busy at the dresser. Maire rises_. + +MAIRE +We shouldn't have stayed at Moynihan's so late. + +ANNE +Indeed it would have been better to go home, but I was sure +that Brian MacConnell would come in. + +MAIRE +Well, it was his own loss if he didn't come. Maybe there was +one there that I liked better. + +ANNE +You couldn't have liked Connor Gilpatrick better than Brian +MacConnell. + +MAIRE +Connor's the best-looking boy in the country. Was it noticed +that we were together often? + +ANNE +_(significantly)_ Peggy Carroll noticed it. + +MAIRE +Well, the boy was glad to talk to me. Connor's a good dancer, +and he has fine talk besides. If Brian MacConnell had come to the +door, I wouldn't have turned my head towards him. + +ANNE +Sure, you wouldn't compare a young boy like Connor Gilpatrick +with Brian MacConnell? + +MAIRE +I wouldn't have turned my head towards Brian. O! never expect kindness +from men. Why did you let me stay on? I'm afraid to look at myself +in the glass to-day. _(She goes over to the mirror)_ You were +hard on me, Anne, yesterday. + +ANNE +I didn't like the way you talked to father. + +MAIRE +I think I'm getting different to what I used to be. Well, I've +reason to be sorry for what I did yesterday. _(She is at window)_ +Was Peggy Carroll vexed at the way I went on? + +ANNE +She never took her eyes off the pair of you. You know she's +very fond of Connor. + +MAIRE +Anne, never remind me of my foolishness, I'm heartsick of +myself to-day. + +ANNE +I'll comb out your hair for you, and you'll look well enough. + +MAIRE +Then you're expecting Brian MacConnell? + +ANNE +It's likely he'll come in to see if there's anything to be done. + +MAIRE +I suppose he'll come in. Gracious, how did father get out? +He's coming up the path. + +ANNE +_(coming to Maire)_ Father's not up, surely? Maire, be easy +with Brian MacConnell when he comes in. + +MAIRE +Father's coming up the path. Anne! + +ANNE +What is it, Maire? + +MAIRE +Father wasn't in at all, last night. + +ANNE +Then he went to Flynn's, after all. + +MAIRE +Ay, he went to Flynn's. + + _She goes to Anne_. + +ANNE +O Maire, what will become of us all? + +MAIRE +I don't know. + + _Maire goes to the settle, and sits down_. + +ANNE +What will we do with him at all? + + _Conn Hourican comes in_. + +CONN +God save you! _(He looks around)_ Well, I came back to ye. + +ANNE +You did, God help us! And we depending on you. It's the bad way +you always treated us. + +CONN +Did you hear what happened to me, before you attack me? + +ANNE +What happened to you? What always happens to you? + +CONN +I wonder that a man comes in at all! The complaints against him +are like the Queen's Speech, prepared beforehand. + +ANNE +Ever since I can remember, you treated us like that. Bringing +us into drinking-places and we little. It's well we got to know +anything, or got into the way of being mannerly at all. + +CONN +You know too much. I always said that. Is James Moynihan coming +here to-day? + +ANNE +No, he isn't coming here to-day. + +CONN +Well, we can do without him. There's something to be done to-day. +I said I'd do the bit of mowing, and I was thinking of that all along. +_(He looks at Maire)_ Did you hear what happened to me, Maire? + +MAIRE +It's no matter at all. + +CONN +I went over to Flynn's, I may tell you. + +ANNE +In troth we might have known that. + +CONN +But did you hear what happened to me? + +ANNE +How could we hear? It was Maire went to the door, and there you +were coming up the path; and we thinking you were in bed, resting +yourself. + +CONN +I went over to Flynn's, but I had good reason for going there. +_(He puts the fiddle down on the table)_ Didn't you hear there were +Sligomen in the town, Maire? Well, one of them was in the way of +rewarding the prizes. I told you about the Feis; well, it's no +matter now, I'll say no more about that. At all events the man I +mentioned wanted to know what music was in the country, so he sent a +message to myself. + +ANNE +_(as satirical as she can be)_ That was kind of him. + +CONN +It was. I could do no less than go. I'll rest myself now, and +then get ready for the mowing. _(He goes to the room door; he turns +again and watches Maire)_ Maire, I'm sorry you weren't on the spot. +You might have advised me. I couldn't think of where you went or I'd +have followed you. I had to make haste. + +MAIRE +It's no matter at all now. + +CONN +I'll stretch myself on the bed before I begin work. Anne, did +you say you were leaving something in the room for me? + +ANNE +I suppose I'll have to leave the tea in the room for you. + + _She gets the tea ready. Maire remains motionless_. + +CONN +Well, I have the pattern of daughters, anyway. I wouldn't give +this house for the praise of Ireland, no, not if they carried me on +their backs. _(Anne takes the tea up to the room)_ It's a pity you +weren't there, Maire, though of course I wouldn't bring you into +such a place. But they were decent fellows, decent, warm-hearted +fellows. If you were to see their faces when I played _An Chaitin +Donn_. I'll warrant they'll be whistling it, though they never heard +the tune before. And the manners they have! I offered the fiddle to +one of them. "No," says he, "not a string will I touch while the +master of us is here." That's something like the spirit. _(Maire has +turned to him and is attentive)_ But there, I won't fill myself up +with false music telling you about it all. + + _He turns to the room_. + +MAIRE +Bring up your fiddle. + +CONN +_(taking fiddle and going towards room again)_ It will be as +good as sound sleeping for me. I'll never forget it. Flynn will +never forget it. It will be the making of Flynn. + + _Maire rises_. + +MAIRE +You've only your fiddle; we shouldn't forget that. + + _Conn goes up to the room. Maire turns to the fire. Anne comes down_. + +ANNE +O Maire, what will become of us at all? + +MAIRE +He is very pleased with himself. He has only his fiddle, we +shouldn't forget that. + +ANNE +It will be a long time till he does the like again. + +MAIRE +It will be a long time, I suppose. Both of us might be in a +different house and have different cares. + +ANNE +That would be terrible. I'll never leave him, Maire. MAIRE You +can't say the like now. + +ANNE +Why? + +MAIRE +How could you take such things upon you and life stretching +out before you? You're not young enough, Anne. Besides, it's not +what we say; it's what we feel. No, it's not what we feel either; +it's what grows up in us. + +ANNE +He might never do the like again. + +MAIRE +Many's the time mother said that, and she and me lying together. + +ANNE +Will we ever get out of it, Maire? + + _James enters_. + +MAIRE +You have only a while to stay with us. + +ANNE +O James, what will your father say if he hears of you giving us +another day? + +JAMES +My father took a stick in his hand this morning, and went off +with himself. + +MAIRE +You're welcome, James. It was a pleasant time we had in your +house last evening. + +JAMES +I hope you liked the company, Maire. I'm afraid there was very +little to be called refined or scholarly, and the conversation at +times was homely enough. But we did our best, and we were proud to +see you. + +MAIRE +Sit down, James. + + _James sits on chair, near table. Maire is seated at fire, left of + James. Anne leans against table, right of him_. + +JAMES +Your father is outside, maybe? + +MAIRE +No. He's above in the room. + +JAMES +Yes. Practising, I suppose. Them that have the gift have to +mind the gift. In this country there isn't much thought for poetry, +or music, or scholarship. Still, a few of us know that a while must +be spared from the world if we are to lay up riches in the mind. + +ANNE +I hope there's nothing wrong at home? + +JAMES +_(turning to Anne)_ To tell you the truth, Anne, and to keep +nothing back, there is. + +MAIRE +And what is it, James? + +JAMES +_(turning to Maire)_ Anne was talking to my father last night. + +ANNE +Indeed I was, and I thought him very friendly to me. + +JAMES +Ay, he liked you well enough, I can tell you that, Anne. This +morning when he took a stick in his hand, I knew he was making ready +for a journey, for the horse is laid up. "Walk down a bit with me," +said he, "and we'll go over a few things that are in my mind." Well, +I walked down with him, and indeed we had a serious conversation. + +ANNE +Well? + +JAMES +"Anne Hourican is too young," said my father; "she's a nice +girl, and a good girl, but she's too young." + +MAIRE +Sure in a while Anne will be twenty. + +JAMES +_(turning to Maire)_ Ten years from this father would still +think Anne too young. And late marriages, as everybody knows, is the +real weakness of the country. + +ANNE +I thought your father liked me. + +JAMES +He likes you well enough, but, as he says, "what would she be +doing here and your sisters years older than herself?" There's truth +in that, mind you. I always give in to the truth. + +MAIRE +James? + +JAMES +_(turning to Maire)_ Well, Maire? + +MAIRE +Is Anne a girl to be waiting twenty years for a man, like +Sally Cassidy? + +JAMES +God forbid, Maire Hourican, that I'd ask your sister to wait +that length. MAIRE She hasn't got a fortune. We were brought up +different to farmers, and maybe we never gave thought to the like. + +JAMES +She has what's better than a fortune. + +MAIRE +Why aren't your sisters married off? + +JAMES +Big fortunes are expected with them. + +MAIRE +And they look to your wife to bring a big fortune into the +house? + +JAMES +Ay, they do that. + +MAIRE +You, James, ought to have some control in the house. You're +the only son. Your father is well off. Get him to fortune off your +sisters, and then bring Anne to the house. + +JAMES +But how could I get father to fortune off the girls? + +MAIRE +How? By wakening up. You have the right. When we have the right, +we ought to be able to do anything we like with the people around us. + +JAMES +I give in to the truth of that, Maire. + +MAIRE +What will come of you giving in to the truth of it? But sure +you ought to remember, Anne. + +ANNE +_(taking James's hand)_ James has the good way with people. + +MAIRE +Well, I suppose it will come out right for you in the end. You +are both very deserving. _(She rises)_ But some time or another we +have to take things into our own hands. + +JAMES +Indeed that's true, Maire. + + _Maire goes to back_. + +ANNE +_(holding James's hand)_ Did you make any more songs, James? + +JAMES +I have a song in my head since last night. + +ANNE +The one in the paper is lovely. I know it by heart. + +JAMES +The next I make will be ten times better. + + _Conn Hourican comes down_. + +CONN +I heard your voice, James, and I thought I'd come down. It's +very good of you to come here again. I'll be out with you to-day. + +JAMES +It'll be a good day from this on. Were you practising above, +Mister Hourican? + +CONN +Well, no, James, I wasn't practising. I was at a big gathering +last night, and my hands are unstrung like. We'll talk for a while, +and then I'll go out with you. + +ANNE +_(taking James's arm)_ Come out with me for a minute, James. + +JAMES +_(going off)_ I'll see you again, Mister Hourican. + + _James and Anne go out_, + +CONN +Well, God help us. _(He turns to go back to the room. Maire +comes down from back)_ Are you going out, Maire? + +MAIRE +No, I'm staying here. + +CONN +_(aggrieved)_ Do you mind them two, how they went out together. +I think I'll go out and see what's to be done about the place. + + _Conn goes towards the entrance. Maire goes towards the fire_. + +CONN +_(pausing at door)_ I broke my word to you, Maire. + +MAIRE +I don't know what to say to you now. + +CONN +It was the music and the strange faces that drew me. + +MAIRE +I know that now. + +CONN +It will be a long time till I break my word to you again. + +MAIRE +I'll never ask for your word again. + +CONN +_(warmly)_ I can tell you this, Maire. There's many's the place +in Ireland where Conn Hourican's word would be respected. + +MAIRE +I'll never ask for your word again. You have only your fiddle, +and you must go among people that will praise you. When I heard you +talking of your listeners, I knew that. I was frightened before that. +When I saw you coming, I went and sat there, and I thought the walls +of the house were crowding in on me. + +CONN +You were partly to blame, Maire. You left me there very lonesome. + +MAIRE +I was to blame, I suppose. I should have treated you differently. +Well, I know you better now. Let you sit down and we'll talk together. +_(Conn sits on chair to right of table)_ What's to become of myself +I don't know. Anne and James Moynihan will marry, I hope. Neither of +us have fortunes, and for that reason our house should be well +spoken of. + +CONN +Sure I know that. I wouldn't bring the shadow of a disgrace +near ye. + +MAIRE +If the father isn't well spoken of, how could the house be +well spoken of? They're big drinkers that go to Flynn's, and it's +easy for the fiddler to get into the way of drinking. + +CONN +I won't go to Flynn's when you put it that way. + +MAIRE +I'll ask for no word. I'll let you know the real way of the +house, and then trust you. + +CONN +You're a good girl, Maire. I should have been said by you. + +MAIRE +From this out there will be dances at the schoolhouse and the +like of that. You could be playing at them. CONN None of the oul' +people go to the like, and the young don't understand me nor my ways. +God knows will I ever play again. That thought is often with me of +late, and it makes me very lonesome. + +MAIRE +That's foolishness. + +CONN +I was very lonesome when you left me. You don't know how I was +tempted, Maire. There was Brian MacConnell putting on his coat to go +to Flynn's, and talking of the Sligomen. + +MAIRE +_(startled)_ And was it to Flynn's that Brian MacConnell went? + +CONN +It was Brian that brought me to Flynn's. + +MAIRE +Was it Brian MacConnell that brought you to Flynn's? + +CONN +It was. + +MAIRE +_(passionately)_ You must never go to Flynn's. + +CONN +I'm ashamed of myself. Didn't I say that, Maire? + +MAIRE +_(with hardness)_ You must never go again. + +CONN +And is a man to have no life to himself? + +MAIRE +That's talk just. It's time you thought of your own place and +your own children. It's time you gave up caring for the praise of +foolish people, + +CONN +Foolish people, did you say? + +MAIRE +Ay, foolish people. You had all your life to yourself, and you +went here and there, straying from place to place, and caring only +for the praise of foolish people. + +CONN +God help you, if that's your way of thinking! Sure the world +knows that a man is born with the gift, and isn't the gift then the +sign of the grace of God? Foolish people, indeed! Them that know the +gift have some of the grace of God, no matter how poor they may be. + +MAIRE +You're always thinking of them. You never think of your own. +Many's the time your own cried tears over your playing. + +CONN +_(passionately, starting up)_ I'll go out of the house. + +MAIRE +Let you stay here. + +CONN +_(going towards entrance)_ I'll go out of the house, I tell you. + +MAIRE +No. + + _Conn goes over to the fire._ + +CONN +God help me that ever came into this country at all. _(He sits +down on the armchair, his hands resting on his stick)_ I had friends +once, and was well thought of; I can tell you that, my daughter. +MAIRE I know that. CONN Well, you can have your own way with me now. + +MAIRE +Why can't you stay here? There's lots to be done here. Our +fields are a laughing-stock to the neighbours, they're that poor and +wasted. Let us put all our minds into working, and have a good place +of our own. + +CONN +Ay, and the grabbers and informers of this place would think +well of you then. + +MAIRE +Who do you call grabbers and informers? + +CONN +The people of this place. The people _you_ want to shine before. + +MAIRE +I don't want to shine before the people. + +CONN +I'm not saying against you, Maire. + +MAIRE +You're wrong in thinking I want to shine at all. + +CONN +Sure you go to every dance and ceilidh; and to every house +where you can show off your face, and dancing, and conversation. + +MAIRE +Do I? Maybe I do. Every girl does the like. + +CONN +I'm not saying against it. + + _Pause._ + +MAIRE +You think I'm like yourself, wanting the praise of the people. + +CONN +And what's the harm if you do? + +MAIRE +No harm at all. But I don't go to houses to show myself off. + +CONN +Troth and you do, Maire. + + _He rises and goes towards the entrance, and remains looking out_. + +MAIRE +I won't believe it. + + _She goes to the settle. Anne comes in. Anne goes to the glass to + fix her hair_. + +CONN +Had you a good night at Moynihan's, Anne? + +ANNE +A sort of a good night. + +CONN +I was going to tell you about a man I met last night. He had a +song about your grandmother. + +ANNE +Was grandmother a great beauty, father? + +CONN +Honor Gilroy had good looks, and indeed she made the most of +them. + +MAIRE +It's likely there was some to tell her that she was showing off. + +CONN +No one was to her liking unless they praised her. + +ANNE +Ah well, a fiddler ought to forgive that to a woman. MAIRE +Fiddlers and women are all alike, but don't say that to him. + + _Anne goes to Maire and sits beside her_. + +CONN +_(speaking to both)_ Well, Honor Gilroy wasn't the worst, maybe. + +MAIRE +And fiddlers and women oughtn't be hard on each other. + +CONN +Do you say that, Maire? + +MAIRE +_(rising and going to him)_ I say it, father. + +CONN +God forgive me if I vexed you, Maire. + +ANNE +It's clearing up now, father, and you ought to go out to James. +_(Conn turns to the door. He remains in the doorway. Anne rises and +goes to Maire)_ What did you say to him? + +MAIRE +_(looking at Conn)_ He doesn't feel it at all. Father will +always be the fiddler, no matter what we say. + +ANNE +Maire. Come and talk to me. _(They sit at fire)_ I was talking +to James. He'll never be happy until we're under the one roof. + + _Maire clasps Anne's hands passionately_. + +MAIRE +_(with cry)_ Anne, daughter, I'll be very lonesome for you. + +ANNE +But sure I won't be far off, Maire. + +MAIRE +Ay, but it's terrible to face things alone. + + _James has come to the door. Conn and James have been talking. They +turn in_. + +CONN +But I'll be glad enough to have the scythe in my hands after it +all, James. + +JAMES +Anne was telling me how you took the victory from Connaught. + +CONN +Still I'm sorry for him! That poor Heffernan! He'll never hold +up his head again. + +JAMES +Sure I'd have it in a ballad that would be sung in his own town. +It would be well worth putting into a ballad. + +CONN +Well indeed, it would make a right good ballad, James. + +JAMES +I'd like to make a ballad about it, that would be sung all +over Connaught. + +CONN +And why wouldn't you do it, James Moynihan? Sure it would be +the making of you. It would be sung all over Ireland, and your name +to it. Do you hear that, Maire? Do you hear that, Anne? + +JAMES +I'm saying that I'd like to do a ballad about your father's +victory. + +CONN +Maybe you could have it this night week, James? ANNE Will it be +a poem or a ballad, James? + + _Anne goes to him_. + +CONN +If you had it this night week, we could bring the boys to the +place. What do you say to that, Maire? We'll bring the boys here +this night week to hear James Moynihan's ballad. + +MAIRE +I was thinking of the Feis at Ardagh. + +CONN +The Feis at Ardagh? + +MAIRE +Maybe you'll be going to it this night week. + +CONN +Sure you're not joking with me, Maire? + +MAIRE +No. + + _She rises_. + +CONN +God forgive me, Maire, if I vexed you. + + _Maire goes up to Conn's room_. + +CONN +Anne, jewel, had Maire anything to say about Ardagh? + +ANNE +We weren't talking about that at all. + +JAMES +Play me a rouse on the fiddle and maybe the ballad will come +into my head. + + _Maire comes down, a fiddle in her hands_. + +MAIRE +Here's the fiddle that was your favourite, the Granard fiddle. + +CONN +And this is the fiddle I'll bring with me to Ardagh. + +ANNE +And is he going to Ardagh? + +JAMES +And what about the ballad, Mister Hourican? + +CONN +I leave it all to Maire now. How well she bethought of the +Granard fiddle. + +MAIRE +Father, we were always together. + + _She hands him the fiddle. Conn, Maire, James, Anne, are at table_. + +CURTAIN + + + + +_ACT III_ + + + _A week later: The scene is as in previous Acts. The table is near + entrance. It is laid for a meal. The time is near sunset. Conn + Hourican, Maire Hourican, and James Moynihan are seated at table. + Maire Hourican rises. She goes to entrance and remains looking out. + Conn and James go on eating_. + +CONN +However it is, I could never play my best in this place. The +houses are too scattered, I often think. And it doesn't do for the +fiddler to remain too long in the one place. The people get too used +to him. Virgil made better songs than any man, but if Virgil was +sung in the fairs constant, divil much heed would be given to his +songs. + +JAMES +Now, I often thought of that. + +CONN +Another thing, James Moynihan, Ribbonism and the Land League +ruined the country. + + _Maire goes out_. + +JAMES +But sure we must be doing something for the Cause. + +CONN +They were all Fenians here when I came into this country first, +over twenty years ago. + + _He rises and goes into room_. + +JAMES +Well, he's a great man, Conn Hourican. _(James rises and goes +to fire. Conn comes out of room, carrying a greatcoat)_ How do you +think you'll do at Ardagh? + +CONN +I think I'll do very well at Ardagh, James. + + _He leaves coat on settle_. + +JAMES +Everything's ready for the start. + +CONN +Ay, and it's near time for going. I'm playing very well lately, +James. It's the thought of being before people who'll know music. If +I was staying in this place any longer, James, I'd put my fiddle in +the thatch, and leave it there for the birds to pick holes in. + +JAMES +But won't you be back here after the Feis at Ardagh? + +CONN +Well, I will, for a while anyway. + +JAMES And would you be going off again after a while? + +CONN +I'm thinking that when my daughters are settled I'll have the +years before me. I was reared in a place south of this, and I'd like +to go back there for a while. + +JAMES +But wouldn't you come back to us? + +CONN +There's many's the place in Ireland that I never saw, town and +countryside. _(He takes the greatcoat off settle and puts it on him)_ +Tell me, James Moynihan, is your father satisfied with the +settlement that Maire's making for yourself and Anne? + +JAMES +My father is very well satisfied. + +CONN +_(going towards his room)_ And so he ought to be, James Moynihan. + + _Goes into his room_. + +JAMES +My father had always a great liking for Anne. _(Anne comes out +of the other room. James Moynihan goes to her)_ May you never think, +Anne, that you made the bad choice when you took James Moynihan. + + _They sit on settle_. + +ANNE +Sure I was never fond of any one but yourself. + +JAMES +And I never cared for any one after I saw you. + +ANNE +I used to hear that you were fond of another girl. + +JAMES +I was fond of the girl that used to be in the newspaper shop +in the town. + +ANNE +And used you to talk with her? + +JAMES +The elbows were worn out of my coat with leaning on the +counter to talk with her. But she married a policeman after that. He +was a friend of mine, too. It was me that got him the words and +music for "I'll hang my harp on a willow tree"--a song that he was +always looking for. + +ANNE +Did you make any songs about the girl? + +JAMES +I did not. + +ANNE +Oh, James, I'm glad of that. I'm glad you made no songs about her. + +JAMES +Are you content to marry me in the town of Ardagh, after the +Feis, as Maire wishes? + +ANNE +It will be strange to be married in Ardagh, away from the +people I know. + +JAMES +It will be lucky getting married after the Feis. + +ANNE +James, it's a great trial for a girl to face marriage; but, +James, I'm very fond of you. + + _James kisses her_. + +JAMES +I don't know what to think of them writers who say that the +Irish girls haven't the heart for love. + +ANNE +Is Maire outside? + +JAMES +She went out. + +ANNE +It's a wonder that Brian MacConnell isn't here before this. + + _Anne rises. Maire comes in_. + +ANNE +Is there no one coming here? + +MAIRE +There is no one on the road. + +ANNE +Brian MacConnell is late in coming. + + _Maire comes up to the fire. Anne stands with her. James goes to + entrance, and remains looking out_. + +MAIRE +I saw Brian yesterday. + +ANNE +And did you tell him that you were going at the sunset? + +MAIRE +I told him we were going in the evening. + +ANNE +Maybe you were distant with Brian? + +MAIRE +He looked like a man that something had happened to. Connor +Gilpatrick came up, and then I went away. + + _Conn Hourican comes out of room. He has left the greatcoat in room. + He brings the fiddle with him. Maire and Anne go to the settle. They + talk._ + +JAMES +_(to Conn)_ What would you think of a row of trees planted +before the door? + + _Conn leaves fiddle on dresser, and comes to him_. + +CONN +They might be very becoming, James. + +JAMES +My father was saying that the front looked very bare. + +CONN +A row of trees, when they'd grow, would make a great difference. + +JAMES +That's what my father was saying. + + _They talk, Conn leaning on the half-door._ + +ANNE +I'm glad to be here. It would be very strange for me to be +married, and in another house. + +MAIRE +I was thinking, Anne, that father and myself ought to stay a +while on the road, till you and James get settled here. + +ANNE +Listen, Maire. James says that he'll be giving this place back +to you after a while. With this start he'll be able to get a house +and land near his father's place. He has fine schemes for making +this place prosperous. James, come here. _(James turns from door)_ +Come here, James, and talk with Maire. + + _James comes to girls, leaving Conn looking out. Maire rises._ + +JAMES +I'll make a path down to the road, and, with a row of trees +before the door, the place will be well worth looking at. + +MAIRE +We won't know the place after a while. + +JAMES +We can never forget, Maire, that it is to you that we owe the +place and the start in life. + +MAIRE +I never looked on the place as my own. + +JAMES +And now that the land is in Anne's name, my father will be +glad to stock the place. + +MAIRE +You have all our will of the place. Father, speak to James and +tell him that he has your will of the place. + +CONN +_(turning from door)_ Indeed you have, James, and we're overglad +to have Anne settled with a steady boy. + +JAMES +Well, long life to you, Conn; and may the man of art never +want fame nor a friend. + +CONN +_(going to dresser)_ Drink to that, James. + + _He takes up a bottle and fills two glasses_. + +JAMES +I never touch anything, Conn; but if Anne won't think bad of me, +I'll drink to your prosperity. + +ANNE +I won't be watching you at all. _(She goes to door. To Maire)_ +I'm going down the road, and if there's any one coming here, I'll +let you know. + + _Anne goes out. James takes the glass from Conn_. + +JAMES +Here's to the fiddler, first of all. May it be again like in +the days of Ireland's glory, when the men of art had their rights +and their dues. + + _He drinks_. + +CONN +Long life to yourself, James Moynihan. _(Conn drinks)_ I know +you a long time now, and I know nothing to your discredit. You're +one of the few people here that are to my liking. Well, if I'm +nothing to them, they're nothing to me. I lived my own life, and I +had the gift. + +JAMES +_(with excitement)_ If Anne was here, I'd drink to her. I must +go after Anne. May she never repent of her choice. _(He goes to the +door, then turns round)_ But sure I'm forgetting the jewel of them +all, yourself, Maire Hourican. Long may you reign in splendour and +success, and in the wish of your heart. + + _James Moynihan goes out. Conn Hourican goes back to the door, and + remains looking out. Maire stands at fire_. + +CONN +It's strange to be looking across that door, and the sun +setting for our journey. And now we're letting the place go out of +our hands. Well, Honor Gilroy's bit of land has been brought to a +great many people. + + _He comes down to dresser. Maire goes up to window, and remains + looking out_. + +CONN +Is there any one coming here, Maire? + +MAIRE +There is no one coming. It's no wonder James's father thought +the place was bare-looking. + +CONN +Well, the bit of land is going to James, and I was saying that +it has been brought to a great many people. + + _Maire takes paper out, and looks at it_. + +CONN +What paper is that, Maire? + +MAIRE +It's a paper that I have to put my name to. _(She goes and +sits at table)_ There's a pen and ink near your hand on the dresser, +and you might give them to me. It's about giving this place to Anne, +and James's father wants my name on the paper. + +CONN +Well, isn't James's father the councillor, with his paper and +his signing? _(He brings pen and ink from dresser, and leaves them +on table. Maire makes preparations for writing. Conn lights candle +at fire, and brings it over to table)_ And does that give the place +to Anne for ever? + +MAIRE +It gives it to herself. _(Maire signs the paper with the +slowness of one unaccustomed to writing)_ It will be a great change +for us when we come back to this place. + +CONN +_(going to chair at fire)_ It will be a great change for you +and me, no matter what we say. + +MAIRE +And now that James's father is putting stock on the land, the +Moynihans will have great call to the place. + +CONN +Maire, your father is thinking of taking to the road. + +MAIRE +And how long would you be staying on the roads? + +CONN +Ah, what is there to bring me back to this country, Maire? + +MAIRE +Sure you're not thinking of going on the roads altogether? + +CONN +The road for the fiddler. + +MAIRE +Would you leave the shelter and the settled life? Would you go +on the road by yourself? + +CONN +Anne and yourself will be settled, and I'll have the years before me. + +MAIRE +Then you'd go on the roads by yourself? + +CONN +Sure I did it before, Maire. + +MAIRE +Ah, but do you not remember the prayers that mother used to +say for us to get some shelter? Do you not remember how proud and +glad we were when we come by a place of our own? + +CONN +The shelter was for Anne and yourself. What had I to do with it? + +MAIRE +The Moynihans are not the sort to make us feel strangers in +the place. + +CONN +The place was your own, Maire, and you gave it to your sister +rather than see her waiting years and years. + +MAIRE +I came to give it to her after I saw how hard I was on yourself. + +CONN +Listen, my jewel, even if the Moynihans had nothing to do with +the place, what would Conn Hourican the fiddler be doing in this +country? + +MAIRE +Ah, there are many you might play to; there are lots that know +about music. There's Michael Gilpatrick and John Molloy-- + +CONN +And that's all, Maire. MAIRE You might go to Flynn's an odd time. + +CONN +And what do they know about music in Flynn's? Young Corney +Myles was up there a while ago, and you'd think, from what the men +said, that there was never the like of Corney for playing, and the +boy isn't three years at the fiddle, + +MAIRE +Father, stay here where the shelter is. + +CONN +Sure, I'd be getting ould, and staying in the chimney-corner, +with no one to talk to me, for you'd be going to a place of your own, +and Anne? after a while, would have too much to mind. + +MAIRE +The people here are kinder than you think. + +CONN +But what has Conn Hourican to do with them anyhow? The very +greatest were glad of my playing, and were proud to know me. + +MAIRE +I know that, father. + +CONN +Well, one is always meeting new life upon the roads, and I want +to spend the years I have before me going from place to place. + +MAIRE +_(going to him)_ If you took to the roads, I'd think I ought +to go with you, for we were always together. + +CONN +Ah, Maire, there are some that would keep you here. + +MAIRE +Do you know who would keep me here? + +CONN +Brian MacConnell is very fond of you. + +MAIRE +Do you know that, father? + +CONN +And I know that you are fond of Brian. _(There is no answer)_ +That my jewel may have luck and prosperity. _(Goes towards room door, +leaving Maire standing there)_ I'll be taking this fiddle, Maire. + +MAIRE +Oh, are we going on the roads? + +CONN +To Ardagh, Maire. + +MAIRE +To Ardagh. + +CONN +I'll go up now, and make ready. + + _He takes candle off table, and goes back towards room door._ + +MAIRE +Oh, what do I know about Brian MacConnell, after all? + +CONN +Brian is wild, but he is free-handed. + +MAIRE +Wild and free-handed! Are all men like that? Wild and +free-handed! But that's not the sort of man I want to look to now. + +CONN +That's nothing to Brian's discredit. MAIRE Ah, what do I know +about Brian MacConnell, except that he's a man of quarrels and +broken words? + + _Conn holds up his hand warningly. Brian MacConnell comes to door_. + +CONN +_(opening half-door)_ You're welcome, Brian. + +BRIAN +Thank you for the good word, Conn. + + _He comes in_. + +MAIRE +You're welcome, Brian MacConnell. + +CONN +_(taking candle off dresser)_ I was going up to the room to +make ready, but Maire will be glad to speak to you. I knew you +wouldn't let us go without wishing us the luck of the road. + + _Goes up to room. Maire goes and sits on settle_. + +MAIRE +Brian MacConnell has come to us again. + +BRIAN +I'm before you again. Let me tell you what I was doing since I +was here last. + +MAIRE +What were you doing, Brian? Making quarrels, may be? + +BRIAN +_(startled)_ Why do you say that? + +MAIRE +I'm thinking that you were doing what would become you, Brian +MacConnell, with the free hand and the wild heart. + +BRIAN +They were telling you about me? + +MAIRE +I know you, Brian MacConnell. + +BRIAN +You don't know how I care for you, or you couldn't talk to me +like that. Many's the time I left the spade in the ground, and went +across the bogs and the rushes, to think of you. You come between me +and the work I'd be doing. Ay, and if Heaven opened out before me, +you would come between me and Heaven itself. + +MAIRE +It's easy taking a girl's heart. + +BRIAN +And I long to have more than walls and a roof to offer you. +I'd have jewels and gold for you. I'd have ships on the sea for you. + +MAIRE +It's easy to take a girl's heart with the words of a song. + +BRIAN +I'm building a house for you, Maire. I'm raising it day by day. + +MAIRE +You left me long by myself. + +BRIAN +It's often I came to see the light in the window. + +MAIRE +Brian, my father wants to go back to the roads. + + _Brian goes and sits by her_. + +BRIAN +I know that Conn would like to go back. + +MAIRE +He wants to go on the roads, to go by himself from place to +place. + +BRIAN +Maybe he has the right to go. + +MAIRE +He has the right to go. It's the life of a fiddler to be on +the roads. + +BRIAN +But you won't go on the roads. + +MAIRE +Oh, what am I to do, Brian? + +BRIAN +Do you think of me at all, Maire? + +MAIRE +Indeed I think of you. Until to-day I'd neither laugh nor cry +but on account of you. + +BRIAN +I'm building a house, and it will be white and fine, and it's +for you that I'm building the house. + +MAIRE +You're going to ask for my promise. + +BRIAN +Give me your promise before you go to Ardagh. + + _Maire rises_. + +MAIRE +If I gave you my promise now, I'd have great delight in coming +back to this place again. + +BRIAN +You won't deny me, my jewel of love? + +MAIRE +Oh, I'm very fond of Aughnalee. I feel that I was reared in +the place. I'd like to live all my life in the place. + +BRIAN +And why would you go from it? MAIRE You might come with us to +Ardagh, Brian. + +BRIAN +Your father might stay with us when he'd be in this country. + +MAIRE +That's true; I'm glad to think on that. + +BRIAN +Give me your promise, Maire. + +MAIRE +We'll talk on the road. There's the blackbird. I'll hear him +every evening on the road, and I'll think I'm a day nearer home. + +BRIAN +Sure you'd leave them all to come with me. + +MAIRE +Ay, I think I would. _(She takes up a new kerchief, and puts +it on her, standing before the mirror)_ Do you know where I saw you +first, Brian? + +BRIAN +Where was it, Maire? + +MAIRE +In a field by the road. You were breaking a horse. + +BRIAN +I was always a good hand with a horse. + +MAIRE +The poor beast was covered with foam and sweat, and at last +you made it still. I thought it was grand then. + + _She sings_. + + I know where I'm going, + I know who's going with me, + I know who I love, + But the dear knows who I'll marry. + +Are your brothers with you, Brian? + +BRIAN +Is it building with me? + +MAIRE +Building with you? + + _She sings_. + + Some say he's dark, + I say he's bonny. + He's the flower of the flock, + My charming, coaxing Johnny. + +BRIAN +_(with sombre passion)_ No. My brothers are not with me. I +quarrelled with them all and I am nearly heart broken for what I did. + +MAIRE +Ah, Brian MacConnell, I don't know what to say to you at all. + +BRIAN +You'll give me your promise, Maire? + +MAIRE +Promise. I've no promise to give to any man. + +BRIAN +Remember that these days past I had only yourself to think on. + +MAIRE +There was never a man but failed me some time. They all leave +me to face the world alone. + +BRIAN +You said that I might go with you as far as Ardagh. + +MAIRE +No. You're not to come. Myself and my father go to Ardagh by +ourselves. + +BRIAN +How was I to know that you would take that quarrel to heart? + +MAIRE +I thought you were strong, but I see now that you are only a +man who forces himself to harsh behaviour. I have my own way to go; +my father wants to go back to the roads, and it's right that I +should be with him, to watch over him. + +BRIAN +What shelter will you have on the road? + +MAIRE +I'll have the quiet of evening, and my own thoughts, and I'll +follow the music; I'll laugh and hold up my head again. + +BRIAN +Maire Hourican, would you leave me? + +MAIRE +What can I do for you, Brian MacConnell? + + _Brian goes to settle, and puts his hands before his eyes. She goes + to him_. + +BRIAN +You have thought for your father, and you have no thought for me. + +MAIRE +Indeed I have thought for you. + +BRIAN +O Maire, my jewel, do you care for me at all? + + _She kisses him_. + +BRIAN +Maire! + + _She rises_. + +MAIRE +I'm going to call my father. + +BRIAN +You go to him, and you go from me. + +MAIRE +You are both my care: my father and yourself. + +BRIAN +What will become of me when you go? + +MAIRE +Isn't it right, Brian, that I should be with my father on the +roads? Even if I was in your house, I would be thinking that I +should watch over him. + +BRIAN +Then it's good-bye you'd be saying? + +MAIRE +Good-bye, Brian MacConnell. + +BRIAN +_(at door)_ Good-bye, Maire Hourican; gold and jewels, ships +on the sea, may you have them all. + + _He goes out. With a cry Maire follows him to the door. She stands + before door for a minute, then she goes back to table, and throwing + herself down, remains with her head buried in her hands. James + Moynihan comes in. Maire raises her head, and remains looking before + her. James comes to table, and puts flowers beside Maire_. + +JAMES +We gathered them for you, Maire. They're the woodbine. We were +saying that you would be glad of the flower of the road. _(Maire +puts her hand on the flowers. James goes to the fire)_ Anne remembers +a good deal about the road. She minds of the grassy ditches, where +the two of you used to catch the young birds. + +MAIRE +I mind of them too. + +JAMES +And the women that used to be with your mother, that used to +tell you the stories. + +MAIRE +And the things we used to talk about after a story! There's +the turn of the road, and who's waiting for you? If it's your +sweetheart, what will you say to him? + +JAMES +I'm often taken with the thought of the road! Going to the +fair on a bright morning, I'd often wish to leave everything aside +and follow the road. + + _A fiddle is heard outside. Conn Hourican comes down, dressed for + the road. He has on the greatcoat. He carries fiddle. He puts fiddle + on dresser_. + +CONN +What music is that, James? + +JAMES +Some of the boys are coming to meet you, and they have a +fiddle with them. + +CONN +Well, now, that's friendly of the boys. + +JAMES +I'll go out now, and let them know that you're coming. _(He goes +to door)_ Brian MacConnell turned the other way, and Anne +went after him. + + _He goes out_. + +CONN +_(anxiously)_ Why did Brian MacConnell go away? + +MAIRE +We didn't agree; no, not after all you said. + +CONN +Maybe we'll see Brian at Ardagh. + +MAIRE +How would he ever come back when I bid him go from me? + +CONN +You bid Brian go from you! _(He goes to the window)_ And there +was myself that had the mind to go on the road that I see stretched +out before me. + +MAIRE +_(going to him)_ You need never come back here. + +CONN +I'll come back with yourself. + +MAIRE +I remember the time when we were on the roads. I remember +sights we used to see! Little towns here, and big towns far away, +and always the road. + +CONN +And the lasting kindness of the road! + +MAIRE +There is no need for you to come back here, father. + +CONN +And would you follow the road? + +MAIRE +Go back to the fiddler's life, and I'll go back with you. Well +see Anne and James at Ardagh, and we'll be at their marriage. +_(She turns round as though to take farewell of the house)_ It's +right that this place should go to Anne. The house wasn't for you, +and it wasn't for me either, I begin to think. + + _Anne comes in_. + +ANNE +_(with a cry)_ Maire, you are going on the roads! + +MAIRE +How do you know that? + +ANNE +You bid Brian MacConnell go from you, and where else would you +go but on the roads? + + _She goes to the settle and throws herself down, her hands before + her face. Maire puts cloak on. Conn goes to Anne. He takes her hands + from her face and holds them_. + +CONN +Don't be grieving that we're going from you, Anne. When you +come back here again, your own care will begin. I know that you +grieve for Maire going from you, and my own heart is unquiet for her. +_(He goes to dresser, takes fiddle and wraps it up. He puts hat on. +Maire goes to settle, and sits beside Anne)_ Well, here's Conn +Hourican the fiddler going on his travels again. No man knows how +his own life will end; but them who have the gift have to follow the +gift. I'm leaving this house behind me; and maybe the time will come +when I'll be climbing the hills and seeing this little house with +the tears in my eyes. I'm leaving the land behind me, too; but +what's land after all against the music that comes from the far, +strange places, when the night is on the ground, and the bird in the +grass is quiet? + + _The fiddle is heard again. Conn Hourican goes to door. Maire + embraces Anne again, rises and goes to door. Anne follows slowly. + Conn goes out. Maire turns to Anne_. + +MAIRE +Tell Brian MacConnell that when we meet again maybe we can be +kinder to each other. + + _Maire Hourican goes out with Conn. Anne is left standing at the + door in the dusk_. + + +_END OF PLAY_ + + +THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE was first produced on 21st March, 1907, by the +Theatre of Ireland, in the Rotunda, Dublin, with the following cast: +-- + +CONN HOURICAN Joseph Goggin +MAIRE HOURICAN Maire MacShiubhlaigh +ANNE HOURICAN Eileen O'Doherty +BRIAN MACCONNELL Ed. Keegan +JAMES MOYNIHAN P. MacShiubhlaigh. + + + + +_THE LAND: +AN AGRARIAN COMEDY IN THREE ACTS_ + + +CHARACTERS + + +MURTAGH COSGAR, a farmer +MATT, his son +SALLY, his daughter +MARTIN DOURAS, a farmer +CORNELIUS, his son +ELLEN, his daughter +A group of men, +A group of boys and girls. + +The scene is laid in the Irish Midlands, present time. + + + +_ACT I_ + + + _The interior of Murtagh Cosgar's. It is a large flagged kitchen + with the entrance on the right. The dresser is below the entrance. + There is a large fireplace in the back, and a room door to the left + of the fireplace; the harness-rack is between room door and fireplace. + The yard door is on the left. The table is down from the room door. + There are benches around fireplace_. + + _It is the afternoon of a May day. Sally Cosgar is kneeling, near + the entrance chopping up cabbage-leaves with a kitchen-knife. She is + a girl of twenty-five, dark, heavily built, with the expression of a + half-awakened creature. She is coarsely dressed, and has a sacking + apron. She is quick at work, and rapid and impetuous in speech. She + is talking to herself_. + +SALLY +Oh, you may go on grunting, yourself and your litter, it won't +put me a bit past my own time. You oul' black baste of a sow, sure +I'm slaving to you all the spring. We'll be getting rid of yourself +and your litter soon enough, and may the devil get you when we lose +you. + + _Cornelius comes to the door. He is a tall young man with a slight + stoop. His manners are solemn, and his expression somewhat vacant_. + +CORNELIUS +Good morrow, Sally. May you have the good of the day. +_(He comes in)_ + +SALLY +_(impetuously)_ Ah, God reward you, Cornelius Douras, for +coming in. I'm that busy keeping food to a sow and a litter of pigs +that I couldn't get beyond the gate to see any one. + +CORNELIUS +_(solemnly)_ You're a good girl, Sally. You're not like +some I know. There are girls in this parish who never put hands to a +thing till evening, when the boys do be coming in. Then they begin +to stir themselves the way they'll be thought busy and good about a +house. + +SALLY +_(pleased and beginning to chop again with renewed energy)_ Oh, +it's true indeed for you, Cornelius. There are girls that be decking +themselves, and sporting are themselves all day. + +CORNELIUS +I may say that I come over to your father's, Murtagh +Cosgar's house, this morning, thinking to meet the men. + +SALLY +What men, Cornelius Douras? + +CORNELIUS +Them that are going to meet the landlord's people with an +offer for the land. We're not buying ourselves, unfortunately, but +this is a great day--the day of the redemption, my father calls +it--and I'd like to have some hand in the work if it was only to say +a few words to the men. + +SALLY +It's a wonder Martin, your father isn't on the one errand with +you. + +CORNELIUS +We came out together, but the priest stopped father and us +on the road. Father Bartley wanted his advice, I suppose. Ah, it's a +pity the men won't have some one like my father with them! He was in +gaol for the Cause. Besides, he's a well-discoursed man, and a +reading man, and, moreover, a man with a classical knowledge of +English, Latin, and the Hibernian vernacular. + + _Martin Douras comes in. He is a man of about sixty, with a refined, + scholarly look. His manner is subdued and nervous. He has a stoop, + and is clean-shaven._ + +CORNELIUS +I was just telling Sally here what a great day it is, +father. + +MARTIN DOURAS +Ay, it's a great day, no matter what our own troubles +may be. I should be going home again. _(He takes a newspaper out of +his pocket, and leaves it on the table)_ + +CORNELIUS +Wait for the men, father. + +MARTIN DOURAS +Maybe they'll be here soon. Is Murtagh in, Sally? + + _Cornelius takes the paper up, and begins to read it_. + +SALLY +He's down at the bottoms, Martin. + +MARTIN DOURAS +He's going to Arvach Fair, maybe. + +SALLY +He is in troth. + +MARTIN DOURAS +I'll be asking him for a lift. He'll be going to the +Fair when he come back from the lawyer's, I suppose? +Ay, he'll be going to-night. _(She gathers the chopped cabbage +into her apron, and goes to the door)_ + +SALLY +_(at the door)_ Cornelius. + + _Cornelius puts down the paper, and goes to the door. Sally goes out_. + +MARTIN DOURAS +Cornelius! + + _Cornelius goes to Martin_. + +SALLY +_(outside)_ Cornelius, give me a hand with this. + + _Cornelius turns again_. + +MARTIN DOURAS +Cornelius, I want to speak to you. + + _Cornelius goes to him_. + +MARTIN DOURAS +There is something on my mind, Cornelius. + +CORNELIUS +What is it, father? + +MARTIN DOURAS +It's about our Ellen. Father Bartley gave me news for her. +"I've heard of a school that'll suit Ellen," says he. "It's in +the County Leitrim." + +CORNELIUS +If it was in Dublin itself, Ellen is qualified to take it +on. And won't it be grand to have one of our family teaching in a +school? + +MARTIN DOURAS +_(with a sigh)_ I wouldn't stand in her way, Cornelius; +I wouldn't stand in her way. But won't it be a poor thing for an old +man like me to have no one to discourse with in the long evenings? +For when I'm talking with you, Cornelius, I feel like a boy who +lends back all the marbles he's won, and plays again, just for the +sake of the game. + +CORNELIUS +We were in dread of Ellen going to America at one time, +and then she went in for the school. Now Matt Cosgar may keep her +from the school. Maybe we won't have to go further than this house +to see Ellen. + +MARTIN DOURAS +I'm hoping it'll be like that; but I'm in dread that +Murtagh Cosgar will never agree to it. He's a hard man to deal with. +Still Murtagh and myself will be on the long road to-night, and we +might talk of it. I'm afeard of Ellen going. + +CORNELIUS +_(at the door)_ It's herself that's coming here, father. + +MARTIN DOURAS +Maybe she has heard the news and is coming to tell us. + + _Ellen comes in. She has a shawl over her head which she lays aside. + She is about twenty-five, slightly built, nervous, emotional_. + +ELLEN +Is it only ourselves that's here? + +MARTIN DOURAS +Only ourselves. Did you get any news to bring you over, Ellen? + +ELLEN +No news. It was the shine of the day that brought me out; and +I was thinking, too, of the girls that are going to America in the +morning, and that made me restless. + + _Martin and Cornelius look significantly at each other_. + +MARTIN DOURAS +And did you see Matt, Ellen? + +ELLEN +He was in the field and I coming up; but I did not wait for him, +as I don't want people to see us together. _(Restlessly)_ I don't +know how I can come into this house, for it's always like Murtagh +Cosgar. There's nothing of Matt in it at all. If Matt would come away. +There are little labourers' houses by the side of the road. Many's +the farmer's son became a labourer for the sake of a woman he cared +for! + +CORNELIUS +And are you not thinking about the school at all, Ellen? + +ELLEN +I'll hear about it some time, I suppose. + +MARTIN DOURAS +You're right to take it that way, Ellen. School doesn't mean +scholarship now. Many's the time I'm telling Cornelius that a +man farming the land, with a few books on his shelf and a few +books in his head, has more of the scholar's life about him than the +young fellows who do be teaching in schools and teaching in colleges. + +CORNELIUS +That's all very well, father. School and scholarship isn't +the one. But think of the word "Constantinople!" I could leave off +herding and digging every time I think on that word! + +MARTIN DOURAS +Ah, it's a great word. A word like that would make you +think for days. And there are many words like that. + +ELLEN +It's not so much the long words that we've to learn and teach +now. When will you be home, father? Will Cornelius be with you? + +MARTIN DOURAS +Ellen, I have news for you. There is a school in +Leitrim that Father Bartley can let you have. + +ELLEN +In Leitrim! Did you tell Matt about it? + +MARTIN DOURAS +I did not. + + _Sally is heard calling "Cornelius." Cornelius goes to the door._ + +CORNELIUS +Here's Matt now. The benefit of the day to you, Matt. + + _He stands aside to let Matt enter. Matt Cosgar is a young peasant +of about twenty-eight. He is handsome and well-built. He is dressed +in a trousers, shirt, and coat, and has a felt hat on. Cornelius +goes out._ + +MATT +_(going to Ellen)_ You're welcome, Ellen. Good morrow, Martin. +It's a great day for the purchase, Martin. + +MARTIN DOURAS +A great day, indeed, thank God. + +MATT +Ah, it's a great thing to feel the ownership of the land, Martin. + +MARTIN DOURAS +I don't doubt but it is. + +MATT +Look at the young apple-trees, Ellen. Walking up this morning, +I felt as glad of them as a young man would be glad of the +sweetheart he saw coming towards him. + +ELLEN +Ay, there's great gladness and shine in the day. + +MATT +It seems to trouble you. + +ELLEN +It does trouble me. + +MATT +Why? + +ELLEN +Everything seems to be saying, "There's something here, +there's something going." + +MATT +Ay, a day like this often makes you feel that way. It's a great +day for the purchase though. How many years ought we to offer, Ellen? + + _Martin goes out_. + +ELLEN +Twenty years, I suppose---_(suddenly)_ Matt! + +MATT +What is it, Ellen? + +ELLEN +I have got an offer of a school in the County Leitrim. + +MATT +I wish they'd wait, Ellen. I wish they'd wait till I had +something to offer you. + +ELLEN +I'm a long time waiting here, Matt. + +MATT +Sure we're both young. + +ELLEN +This is summer now. There will be autumn in a month or two. +The year will have gone by without bringing me anything. + +MATT +He'll be letting me have my own way soon, my father will. + +ELLEN +Murtagh Cosgar never let a child of his have their own way. + +MATT +When the land's bought out, he'll be easier to deal with. + +ELLEN +When he owns the land, he'll never let a son of his marry a +girl without land or fortune. + +MATT +Ellen, Ellen, I'd lose house and land for you. Sure you know +that, Ellen. My brothers and sisters took their freedom. They went +from this house and away to the ends of the world. Maybe I don't +differ from them so much. But I've put my work into the land, and +I'm beginning to know the land. I won't lose it, Ellen. Neither will +I lose you. + +ELLEN +O Matt, what's the land after all? Do you ever think of America? +The streets, the shops, the throngs? + +MATT +The land is better than that when you come to know it, Ellen. + +ELLEN +May be it is. + +MATT +I've set my heart on a new house. Ay and he'll build one for us +when he knows my mind. + +ELLEN +Do you think he'd build a new house for us, Matt? I could +settle down if we were by ourselves. Maybe it's true that there are +things stirring and we could begin a new life, even here. + +MATT +We can, Ellen, we can. Hush! father's without. + + _Martin Douras and Murtagh Cosgar are heard exchanging greetings. + Then Murtagh comes in, Martin behind him. Murtagh Cosgar is about + sixty. He is a hard, strong man, seldom-spoken, but with a flow of + words and some satirical power. He is still powerful, mentally and + physically. He is clean shaven, and wears a sleeved waistcoat, heavy + boots, fell hat. He goes towards Ellen._ + +MURTAGH +Good morrow to you. _(Turning to Matt)_ When I get speaking +to that Sally again, she'll remember what I say. Giving cabbage to +the pigs, and all the bad potatoes in the house. And I had to get up +in the clouds of the night to turn the cows out of the young meadow. +No thought, no care about me. Let you take the harness outside and +put a thong where there's a strain in it. + + _Murtagh goes to the fire. Matt goes to the harness-rack. Martin + Douras and Ellen are at the door._ + +MARTIN DOURAS +Ellen, I'll have news for you when I see you again. +I've made up my mind to that. + +ELLEN +Are you going to the fair, father? + +MARTIN DOURAS +Ay, with Murtagh. + +ELLEN +God be with you, father. _(She goes out)_ + +MARTIN DOURAS +What purchase are you thinking of offering, Murtagh? + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Twenty years. + +MARTIN DOURAS +It's fair enough. Oh, it's a great day for the country, +no matter what our own troubles may be. + + _Matt has taken down the harness. He takes some of it up and goes + out to yard._ + +MURTAGH COSGAR +_(with some contempt)_ It's a pity you haven't a share +in the day after all. + +MARTIN DOURAS +Ay, it's a pity indeed. + + _Murtagh goes to the door._ + +MURTAGH COSGAR +_(with suppressed enthusiasm)_ From this day out +we're planted in the soil. + +MARTIN DOURAS +Ay, we're planted in the soil. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +God, it's a great day. + + _Cornelius comes back._ + +CORNELIUS +This is a memorial occasion, Murtagh Cosgar, and I wish +you the felicitations of it. I met the delegates and I coming in, +and I put myself at the head of them. It's the day of the redemption, +Murtagh Cosgar. + + _Murtagh, without speaking, goes up to the room._ + +CORNELIUS +He's gone up to get the papers. Father, we must give the +men understanding for this business. They must demand the mineral +rights. Here they are. Men of Ballykillduff, I greet your entrance. + + _Six men enter discussing._ + +FIRST +MAN We'll leave it to Murtagh Cosgar. Murtagh Cosgar isn't a +grazier or a shopkeeper. + +SECOND MAN +It's the graziers and shopkeepers that are putting a +business head on this. + +THIRD MAN +If we're all on the one offer, we can settle it at the +lawyer's. + +FOURTH MAN +Sure it's settled for twenty years on the first-term rents. + +FIFTH MAN +There are some here that would let it go as high as +twenty-three. + +SIXTH MAN +What does Murtagh Cosgar say? + +SOME OF THE MEN +Well take the word from him. + +MARTIN DOURAS +He mentioned twenty years. + +SECOND MAN +Not as a limit, surely? + +OTHER MEN +We're not for any higher offer. + +SECOND MAN +Well, men, this is all I have to say. If you can get it +for twenty, take it, and my blessing with it. But I want to be +dealing with the Government, and not with landlords and agents. To +have a straight bargain between myself and the Government, I'd put it +up to twenty-three, ay, up to twenty-five years' purchase. + +THIRD MAN +More power to you, Councillor. There's some sense in that. + +SIXTH MAN +I'm with the Councillor. + +FIRST MAN +It's all very well for graziers and shopkeepers to talk, but what +about the small farmer? + +FOURTH MAN +The small farmer. That's the man that goes under. + +FIFTH MAN +_(knocking at the table)_ Murtagh Cosgar! Murtagh Cosgar! + +CORNELIUS +I tell you, men, that Murtagh Cosgar is in agreement with myself. +Twenty years, I say, first term, no more. Let my father speak. + +MARTIN DOURAS +There's a great deal to be said on both sides, men. + +FIRST MAN +Here's Murtagh now. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Twenty years first term, that's what I agreed to. + +SECOND MAN +And if they don't rise to that, Murtagh? + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Let them wait. We can wait. I won't be going with you, men. I had a +few words with the agent about the turbary this morning, and maybe +you're better without me. + +FIRST MAN +All right, Murtagh. We can wait. + +FOURTH MAN +We know our own power now. + +FIFTH MAN +Come on, men. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +If they don't rise to it, bide a while. We can make a new offer. + +SECOND MAN +We want to be settled by the Fall. + +THIRD MAN +The Councillor is right. We must be settled by the Fall. + +SIXTH MAN +A man who's a farmer only has little sense for a business like this. + +SECOND MAN +We'll make the offer, Murtagh Cosgar, and bide a while. But we must +be settled this side of the Fall. We'll offer twenty years first term. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Do, and God speed you. + +CORNELIUS _(to the men going out)_ +I told you Murtagh Cosgar and myself are on the one offer. And +Murtagh is right again when he says that you can bide your time. But +make sure of the mineral rights, men; make sure of the mineral rights. + + _The men go out; Cornelius follows them._ + +MURTAGH COSGAR +_(with irony)_ Musha, but that's a well-discoursed lad. It must +be great to hear the two of you at it. + +MARTIN DOURAS +God be good to Cornelius. There's little of the world's harm in the +boy. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +He and my Sally would make a great match of it. She's a bright one, +too. + +MARTIN DOURAS +Murtagh Cosgar, have you no feeling for your own flesh and blood? + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Too much feeling, maybe. _(He stands at the door in silence. With +sudden enthusiasm)_ Ah, but that's the sight to fill one's heart. +Lands ploughed and spread. And all our own; all our own. + +MARTIN DOURAS +All our own, ay. But we made a hard fight for them. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Ay. + +MARTIN DOURAS +Them that come after us will never see them as we're seeing them now. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +_(turning round)_ Them that come after us. Isn't that a great thought, +Martin Douras? and isn't it a great thing that we're able to pass this +land on to them, and it redeemed for ever? Ay, and their manhood spared +the shame that our manhood knew. Standing in the rain with our hats off +to let a landlord--ay, or a landlord's dog-boy--pass the way! + +MARTIN DOURAS +_(mournfully)_ May it be our own generation that will be in it. Ay, +but the young are going fast; the young are going fast. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +_(sternly)_ Some of them are no loss. + +MARTIN DOURAS +Ten of your own children went, Murtagh Cosgar. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +I never think of them. When they went from my control, they went +from me altogether. There's the more for Matt. + +MARTIN DOURAS +_(moistening his mouth, and beginning very nervously)_ Ay, Matt. +Matt's a good lad. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +There's little fear of him leaving now. + +MARTIN DOURAS _(nervously)_ +Maybe, maybe. But, mind you, Murtagh Cosgar, there are +things--little things, mind you. Least, ways, what we call little +things. And, after all, who are we to judge whether a thing-- + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Is there anything on your mind, Martin Douras? + +MARTIN DOURAS +_(hurriedly)_ No; oh, no. I was thinking--I was thinking, maybe you'd +give me a lift towards Arvach, if you'd be going that way this night. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Ay, why not? + +MARTIN DOURAS +And we could talk about the land, and about Matt, too. Wouldn't it +be a heart-break if any of our children went--because of a thing we +might-- + +MURTAGH COSGAR +_(fiercely)_ What have you to say about Matt? + +MARTIN DOURAS +_(stammering)_ Nothing except in a--in what you might call a general +way. There's many a young man left house and land for the sake of some +woman, Murtagh Cosgar. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +There's many a fool did it. + +MARTIN DOURAS +_(going to door)_ Ay, maybe; maybe. I'll be going now, Murtagh. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Stop! _(clutching him)_ You know about Matt. What woman is he +thinking of? + +MARTIN DOURAS +_(frightened)_ We'll talk about it again, Murtagh. I said I'd be back. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +We'll talk about it now. Who is she? What name has she? + +MARTIN DOURAS +_(breaking from him and speaking with sudden dignity)_ It's a good +name, Murtagh Cosgar; it's my own name. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Your daughter! Ellen! You're-- + +MARTIN DOURAS +Ay, a good name, and a good girl. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +And do you think a son of mine would marry a daughter of yours? + +MARTIN DOURAS +What great difference is between us, after all? + +MURTAGH COSGAR +_(fiercely)_ The daughter of a man who'd be sitting over his fire +reading his paper, and the clouds above his potatoes, and the cows +trampling his oats. _(Martin is beaten down)_ Do you know me at all, +Martin Douras? I came out of a little house by the roadway and built +my house on a hill. I had many children. Coming home in the long +evenings, or kneeling still when the prayers would be over, I'd have +my dreams. A son in Aughnalee, a son in Ballybrian, a son in Dunmore, +a son of mine with a shop, a son of mine saying Mass in Killnalee. +And I have a living name--a name in flesh and blood. + +MARTIN DOURAS +God help you, Murtagh Cosgar. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +But I've a son still. It's not your daughter he'll be marrying. +_(He strides to the door and calls Matt)_ + +MARTIN DOURAS _(going to him)_ Murtagh Cosgar--for God's sake--we're +both old men, Murtagh Cosgar. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +You've read many stories, Martin Douras, and you know many endings. +You'll see an ending now, and it will be a strong ending, and a +sudden ending. + + _Matt comes in_. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +You're wanted here. + +MATT +I heard you call. _(He sits on table)_ So they're sticking to the +twenty years. + +MARTIN DOURAS +_(eagerly)_ Twenty years, Matt, and they'll get it for twenty. O, it's +a great day for you both! Father and son, you come into a single +inheritance. What the father wins the son wields. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +What the father wins, the son wastes. + +MATT +What's the talk of father and son? + +MARTIN DOURAS +They're the one flesh and blood. There's no more strife between them +than between the right hand and the left hand. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +_(to Matt)_ We were talking about you. We were fixing a match for you. + +MATT +_(startled, looking at Martin Douras)_ Fixing a match for me? +_(He rises)_ + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Ay, Matt. Don't you think it's time to be making a match for you? + +MATT +_(sullenly, going to the door)_ Maybe it is. When you have chosen +the woman, call. I'll be without. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +_(going to him)_ We haven't chosen yet. But it won't be Martin Douras' +daughter, anyhow. + +MATT +Stop. You drove all your living children away, except Sally and +myself. You think Sally and myself are the one sort. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +_(tauntingly)_ Martin's daughter, Corney's sister. That's the girl +for you! + +MATT +We're not the one sort, I tell you. Martin Douras, isn't he a +foolish old man that would drive all his children from him? What +would his twenty years' purchase be to him then? + +MURTAGH COSGAR +It wasn't for my children I worked. No, no; thank God; it wasn't for +my children I worked. Go, if you will. I can be alone. + +MARTIN DOURAS +O Murtagh, Murtagh, sure you know you can't be alone. We're two old +men, Murtagh. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +He daren't go. + +MATT +Because I'm the last of them he thinks he can dare me like that. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +There was more of my blood in the others. + +MATT +Do you say that? + +MARTIN DOURAS +Don't say it again. For God's sake, don't say it again, Murtagh. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +I do say it again. Them who dared to go had more of my blood in them! + +MATT +Ah, you have put me to it now, and I'm glad, glad. A little house, a +bit of land. Do you think they could keep me here? + +MURTAGH COSGAR +_(to Martin Douras)_ It's his own way he wants. I never had my own +way. _(To Matt)_ You're my last son. You're too young to know the +hardship there was in rearing you. + +MATT +_(exultantly)_ Your last son; that won't keep me here. I'm the last +of my name, but that won't keep me here. I leave you your lands, your +twenty years' purchase. Murtagh Cosgar, Murtagh Cosgar! isn't that a +great name, Martin Douras--a name that's well planted, a name for +generations? Isn't he a lucky man that has a name for generations? +_(He goes out)_ + +MURTAGH COSGAR +He can't go. How could he go and he the last of the name. Close the +door, I say. + +MARTIN DOURAS +He'll go to Ellen, surely. We'll lose both of them. Murtagh Cosgar, +God comfort you and me. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Ellen; who's Ellen? Ay, that daughter of yours. Close the door, I say. + + _He sits down at fireplace. Martin Douras closes door and goes to + him_. + +CURTAIN + + + + +ACT II + + _Interior of Martin Douras'. The entrance is at back left. There + is a dresser against wall back; a table down from dresser; room + doors right and left. The fireplace is below the room door right; + there are stools and chairs about it. There is a little bookcase + left of the dresser, and a mirror beside it. There are patriotic and + religious pictures on the wall. There are cups and saucers on table, + and a teapot beside fire. It is afternoon still. Ellen Douras is + near the fire reading. Cornelius comes in slowly_. + +CORNELIUS +I left the men down the road a bit. We ought to take great pride out +of this day, Ellen. Father did more than any of them to bring it +about. + +ELLEN +He suffered more than any of them. And it's little we'll get out of +the day. + +CORNELIUS +It's a great thing to have prophesied it, even. We'll be here to see +a great change. + +ELLEN +There will be no change to make things better! + +CORNELIUS +Will you be taking that school, Ellen? + +ELLEN +I'll wait a while. + + _Sally coming in; she is hurried_. + +SALLY +_(breathlessly)_ Oh, God save you, Cornelius. Tell me, is my +father gone? I dread going back and he there! It was all over that +baste of a sow that has kept me slaving all through the spring till +I don't know whether greens or potatoes is the fittest for her! + +CORNELIUS +He didn't go, Sally. I went down a bit of the road myself with the men. + +SALLY +Oh, God help me! And I'll have to be going back to boil meal +for her now. How are you, Ellen. _(She goes to Ellen)_ + +ELLEN +Sit down for a while, Sally; it's a long time since I was speaking +to you. + + _Sally sits down beside Ellen_. + +CORNELIUS +I'll leave this paper where they won't be looking for pipe-lights. +There are things in that paper I'd like to be saying. _(He takes a +newspaper out of his pocket and goes to room right)_ + +ELLEN +_(to Sally, who has been watching Cornelius)_ Tell me, Sally, +are they always that busy in your house? Is your father as harsh as +they say? + +SALLY +Father 'ud keep us all working. He's a powerful great man. + +ELLEN +Matt will be bringing a wife into the house soon from all I hear. +How would your father treat her? + +SALLY +Oh, he'd have his way, and she'd have her way, I suppose. + +ELLEN +And do you think your father will let him marry? + +SALLY +Sure he must if the boy likes. + +ELLEN +What would he say if Matt married a girl without a fortune? + +SALLY +In my mother's country there are lots of girls with fortunes +that Matt could have. + +ELLEN +Supposing he wanted a girl that had no fortune? + +SALLY +Oh, I suppose father would give in in the end. It wouldn't be +clay against flint when Matt and father would be to it. + +ELLEN +You're a good girl, Sally. If I was Matt's wife, do you think +you'd be fond of me? + +SALLY +I'd like you as well as another, Ellen. + + _Cornelius comes down from room_. + +CORNELIUS +I suppose they'll be here soon. + +ELLEN +I have tea ready for them. + +SALLY +Who's coming at all? + +CORNELIUS +Some of the boys and girls that are for America. They are going +to Gilroy's to-night, and are leaving from that in the morning. +They are coming in to see Ellen on their way down. + +SALLY +There are a good many going this flight. The land never +troubles them in America, and they can wear fine clothes, and be as +free as the larks over the bogs. It's a wonder you never thought of +going, Ellen. + +ELLEN +Father wouldn't like me to be far from him, and so I went in +for the school instead. + +SALLY +And now you've got a fine boy like Matt. It was lucky for you +to be staying here. + +ELLEN +Hush, Sally. + +SALLY +Oh, I knew all about it before you talked to me at all. Matt +always goes to the place where he thinks you'd be. + +ELLEN +_(rising)_ I'll be in the room when the girls come, Cornelius. + + _She goes into room left_. + +SALLY +_(going to Cornelius)_ God help us, but she's the silent +creature. Isn't it a wonder she's not filled with talk of him after +seeing him to-day? But Ellen's right. We shouldn't be talking about +men, nor thinking about them either; and that's the way to keep them +on our hands on the long run. I'll be going myself. + + _She goes towards door_. + +CORNELIUS +_(going to her)_ Don't be minding Ellen at all, Sally. + +SALLY +Well, as high as she is, and as mighty as she is, she came +into his own house to see Matt. God between us and harm, Cornelius, +maybe they'll be saying I came into your house to see you. + +CORNELIUS +Who'll know you came at all? And what isn't seen won't be +spoken of. + +SALLY +Would you like me to stay, Cornelius? + +CORNELIUS +Ay, I would. + +SALLY +Divil mind the sow, + + _They sit down together_. + +SALLY +_(after a pause)_ Would you like me to knit you a pair of socks, +Cornelius? + +CORNELIUS +Oh, I would, Sally; I'd love to wear them. + +SALLY +I'll knit them. We'll be getting rid of the sow tonight, maybe, +and I'll have time after that. + +CORNELIUS +And you come along the road when I'm herding. I don't want to be going +near your father's house. + +SALLY +O Cornelius, it won't be lucky for us when father hears about +Ellen and Matt. + +CORNELIUS +That's true. No man sees his house afire but looks to his rick. + +SALLY +Come down a bit of the road with me, Cornelius. The sow will be +grunting and grunting, reminding father that I'm away. Och, a minute +ago I was as contented as if there was no land or pigs, or harsh words +to trouble one. _(She goes to the door)_ The boys and girls for +America are coming here. + +CORNELIUS +Give me your hands to hold, Sally. _(She gives him her +hands)_ We are as young as any of them after all. + + _They hold each other's hands, then stand apart_. + +SALLY +It's a fine time for them to be going when the leaves are +opening on the trees. + + _Three boys and three girls enter. They are dressed for going away_. + +SALLY +God save you, girls. Good-bye, Cornelius. I'll have to run +like a redshank. + + _Sally goes out_. + +CORNELIUS +I'll call Ellen down to you. _(He goes to the room door +and calls)_ I'm going herding myself. Herding is pleasant when you +have thoughts with you. + + _He takes up the rod and goes out. The girls begin whispering, then + chattering_. + +FIRST GIRL +Sure I know. Every night I'm dreaming of the sea and the +great towns. Streets and streets of houses and every street as +crowded as the road outside the chapel when the people do be coming +from Mass. I could watch the crowd in the street; I would think it +better than any sight I ever knew. + +SECOND GIRL +And the shops and the great houses. + +SECOND BOY +There's no stir here. There's no fine clothes, nor fine +manners, nor fine things to be seen. + +THIRD BOY +There's no money. One could never get a shilling together +here. In America there's money to have and to spend and to send home. + +THIRD GIRL +Every girl gets married in America. + + _Ellen comes down_. + +ELLEN +I'm glad you came. I have tea ready for you. I can't go to +Gilroy's to-night. + + _Some come to the table and some remain near the door_. + +A GIRL +_(at table, to Ellen)_ They say that a peat fire like that +will seem very strange to us after America. Bridget wondered at it +when she came back. "Do civilized people really cook at the like of +them?" said she. + +A BOY +It's the little houses with only three rooms in them that will +seem strange. I'm beginning to wonder myself at their thatch and +their mud walls. + +ANOTHER GIRL +Houses in bogs and fields. It was a heart-break trying +to keep them as we'd like to keep them. A GIRL _(at door)_ Ah, but +I'll never forget Gortan and the little road to Aughnalee. + +ANOTHER GIRL +I think I'll be lonesome for a long time. I'll be +thinking on my brothers and sisters. I nursed and minded all the +little ones. + +FIRST BOY +A girl like you, Ellen, is foolish to be staying here. + +SECOND BOY +She'll be coming in the fall. We'll be glad to see you, +Ellen. + +ELLEN +I have no friends in America. + +FIRST GIRL +I have no friends there, either. But I'll get on. You +could get on better than any of us, Ellen. + +SECOND GIRL +She's waiting for her school. It will be a little place +by the side of a bog. + +THIRD GIRL +_(going to Ellen)_ There would be little change in that. +And isn't it a life altogether different from this life that we have +been longing for? To be doing other work, and to be meeting strange +people. And instead of bare roads and market-towns, to be seeing +streets, and crowds, and theaters. + +ELLEN +_(passionately)_ O what do you know about streets and theaters? +You have only heard of them. They are finer than anything you could +say. They are finer than anything you could think of, after a story, +when you'd be A GIRL You'll be going after all, Ellen. + +ELLEN +I won't be going. + +FIRST GIRL +Well, maybe you'll be down at Gilroy's. We must go now. + + _The girls go to the door. Ellen goes with them_. + +ONE OF THE BOYS +Phil said that an egg was all he could touch while +he was on the sea. + +SECOND BOY +God help us, if that was all Phil could take. + +THIRD BOY +Light your pipes now, and we'll go. + + _Ellen has parted with the girls. The boys light their pipes at fire. + They go to door, and shake hands with Ellen. The boys go out_. + +ELLEN +Theaters! What do they know of theaters? And it's their like +will be enjoying them. + + _Sally comes back. She is more hurried than before_. + +SALLY +Ellen! Ellen! I have wonders to tell. Where is Cornelius, at +all? He's never here when you have wonders to tell. + +ELLEN +What have you to tell? + +SALLY +Oh, I don't know how I'll get it all out! Matt and father had +an _odious_ falling out, and it was about you. And Matt's going to +America; and he's to bring you with him. And Cornelius was saying +that if father found out about yourself and Matt-- + +ELLEN +Sally, Sally, take breath and tell it. + +SALLY +Matt is going to America, like the others, and he's taking you +with him. + +ELLEN +Sally, Sally, is it the truth you're telling? + +SALLY +It is the truth. Honest as day, it is the truth. + +ELLEN +And I thought I'd be content with a new house. Now we can go +away together. I can see what I longed to see. I have a chance of +knowing what is in me. _(She takes Sally's hands)_ It's great news +you've brought me. No one ever brought me such news before. Take +this little cross. You won't have a chance of getting fond of me +after all. _(She wears a cross at her throat; she breaks the string, +and gives it to Sally)_ + +SALLY +I don't know why I was so fervent to tell you. There's the +stool before me that myself and Cornelius were sitting on, and he +saying--_(She goes to the door)_ Here's Matt! Now we'll hear all +about it. + +ELLEN +So soon; so soon. _(She goes to the mirror. After a pause, +turning to Sally)_ Go down the road a bit, when he comes in. Sally, +you have a simple mind; you might be saying a prayer that it will be +for the best. + +SALLY +_(going to the door muttering)_ Go down the road a bit! 'Deed +and I will not till I know the whole ins and outs of it. Sure +I'm as much concerned in it as herself! "No man sees his house +afire but watches his rick," he was saying. Ah, there's few of +them could think of as fine a thing as that. + + _Matt comes in._ + +MATT +Well, Sally, were you home lately? + +SALLY +I was--leastways as far as the door. Father and oul' Martin were +discoursing. + +MATT +I've given them something to discourse about. Maybe you'll be +treated better from this day. Sally. + +SALLY +O Matt, I'm sorry. + + _She goes out._ + +MATT +_(going to Ellen)_ It happened at last, Ellen; the height of the +quarrel came. + +ELLEN +It was bound to come. I knew it would come, Matt. + +MATT +He was a foolish man to put shame on me after all I did for the land. + +ELLEN +You had too much thought for the land. + +MATT +I had in troth. The others went when there was less to be done. They +could not stand him. Even the girls stole away. + +ELLEN +There was the high spirit in the whole of you. + +MATT +I showed it to him. "Stop," said I; "no more, or I fling lands +and house and everything aside." + +ELLEN +You said that. + +MATT +Ay. "Your other children went for less," said I; "do you think +there's no blood in me at all?" + +ELLEN +What happened then? + +MATT +"I'm your last son," I said; "keep your land and your twenty +years' purchase. I'm with the others; and it's poor your land will +leave you, and you without a son to bring down your name. A bit of +land, a house," said I; "do you think these will keep me here?" + +ELLEN +I knew they could not keep you here, Matt. You have broken +from them at last; and now the world is before us. Think of all that +is before us--the sea, and the ships, the strange life, and the great +cities. + +MATT +Ay--there before us--if we like. + +ELLEN +Surely we like. + +MATT +I was always shy of crowds. I'm simple, after all, Ellen, and +have no thought beyond the land. + +ELLEN +You said that house and land could not keep you. You told him you +were going as your brothers went. + +MATT +And I felt I was going. I frightened him. He'll be glad to see me +back. It will be long before he treats me that way again. + +ELLEN +_(suddenly)_ Matt! + +MATT +What is it, Ellen? + +ELLEN +I don't know--I was upset--thinking of the quarrel _(putting her +hands on his shoulders)_ My poor Matt. It was about me you quarrelled. + +MATT +Ay, he spoke against you. I couldn't put up with that. + +ELLEN +He does not know your high spirit. He does not know your strength. + +MATT +Ellen, it's no shame for a man to have harsh words said to him when +it's about a woman like you. + +ELLEN +Let nothing come between us now. I saw you in the winter making +drains and ditches, and it wet. It's a poor story, the life of a man +on the land. + +MATT +I had too much thought for the land. + +ELLEN +You had. Have thought for me now. There is no one in fair or market +but would notice me. I was never a favourite. I lived to myself. I +did not give my love about. You have never offered me anything. In +the song a man offers towns to his sweetheart. You can offer me the +sights of great towns, and the fine manners, and the fine life. + +MATT +Ellen! _(He draws a little away)_ It's not me that could offer the +like of that. I never had anything to my hand but a spade. + +ELLEN +Your brothers--think of them. + +MATT +They all left some one behind them. I am the last of my name. + +ELLEN +Why should that keep you back? + +MATT +His name is something to a man. Could you hear of your own name +melting away without unease? And you are a woman. A man feels it more. + +ELLEN +I do not understand men. Will you go back to your father's house +after he shaming you out of it? + +MATT +He'll be glad to see me back. He'll never cast it up to me that I +went. + +ELLEN +Matt, your father said words against me. Will you go to him and take +his hand after that? + +MATT +It was little he said against you. It was against your father he +spoke. + +ELLEN +_(sinking down on a chair, and putting hands before her face)_ +My God! After all my waiting, you talk like that. + +MATT +_(going to her)_ Ellen, Ellen, tell me what I can do for you? +There's land and houses to be had here. Father will let me have my +own way after this. + +ELLEN +_(rising, with anger)_ What does it matter to me whether he +lets you have your own way or not? Do you think I could go into a +farmer's house? + +MATT +Ellen! + +ELLEN +It's a bad hand I'd make of a farmer's house. I'm not the sort +to be in one. I'm not like Sally. + +MATT +_(getting angry)_ Don't be talking that way, Ellen Douras. + +ELLEN +_(with great vehemence)_ I must be talking like this. If you +take me, you will have to go from your father's house. I always knew +it. You ought to know it now, Matt Cosgar. + +MATT +You didn't know it always. And you have let some one come +between us when you talk like that. + +ELLEN +I'm not one to be listening to what people say about you. Nor +do I be talking in the markets about you. + +MATT +I suppose not. You wouldn't have people think you gave any +thought to me; I'm not good enough for you. The people you know are +better. + +ELLEN +You are foolish to be talking like that. You are foolish, I say. + +MATT +I know I am foolish. Fit only to be working in drains and +ditches in the winter. That's what you think. + +ELLEN +Maybe it is. + +MATT +Ellen Douras! Ellen Douras! A farmer's roof will be high enough +for you some day. + +ELLEN +May I never see the day. Go back, go back. Make it up with +your father. Your father will be glad of a labourer. + +MATT +Maybe you won't be glad if I go back; thinking on what you've +said. + +ELLEN +I said too much. We don't know each other at all. Go back. You +have made your choice. + + _She goes up to room left._ + +MATT +Very well, then. God above, am I to be treated everywhere like +a heifer strayed into a patch of oats? Neither man nor woman will +make me put up with this any longer. _(Going to door)_ When Ellen +Douras wants me, she knows the place to send to. _(He stands at door. +There is no sound from room. Going back he speaks loudly)_ I'll be +waiting two days or three days to hear from Ellen Douras. + + _There is no sound. Matt goes out. The room door is thrown open, + and Ellen comes down._ + +ELLEN +_(furiously)_ Two days or three days he'll wait for me. As if +I'd go into Murtagh Cosgar's house. As if I'd go into any farmer's +house. As if I'd get married at all, and the world before me. Two +days or three days you'll wait. Maybe it's lonesome, weary years +you'll be waiting, Matt Cosgar. + +CURTAIN + + + + +ACT III + + _Interior of Murtagh Cosgar's. It is towards sunset. Murtagh + Cosgar is standing before the door looking out. Martin Douras is + sitting at the fire in an armchair._ + +MARTIN DOURAS +It's getting late, Murtagh Cosgar. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Ay, it's getting late. + +MARTIN DOURAS +It's time for me to be going home. I should be seeing +Ellen. _(He rises)_ + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Stay where you are. _(Turning round)_ We're two old +men, as you say. We should keep each other's company for a bit. + +MARTIN DOURAS +I should be going home to see Ellen. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +If she's going, you can't stay her. Let you keep here. + +MARTIN DOURAS +She'll be wondering what happened to me. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Divil a bit it will trouble her. You're going to the +fair anyway? + +MARTIN DOURAS +I have no heart to be going into a fair. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +It's myself used to have the great heart. Driving in +on my own side-car, and looking down on the crowd of them. It's +twenty years since I took a sup of drink. Oh, we'll have drinking +to-morrow that will soften the oul' skin of you. You'll be singing +songs about the Trojans to charm every baste in the fair. + +MARTIN DOURAS +We're both old men, Murtagh Cosgar. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +And is there any reason in your scholarship why oul' +men should be dry men? Answer me that! + +MARTIN DOURAS +I won't answer you at all, Murtagh Cosgar. There's no +use in talking to you. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Put it down on a piece of paper that oul' men should +have light hearts when their care is gone from them. They should be +like-- + +MARTIN DOURAS +There's nothing in the world like men with their +rearing gone from them, and they old. + + _Sally comes to the door. She enters stealthily._ + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Ha, here's one of the clutch home. Well, did you see +that brother of yours? + +SALLY +I did. He'll be home soon, father. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +What's that you say? Were you talking to him? Did he +say he'd be home? + +SALLY +I heard him say it, father. + +MARTIN DOURAS +God bless you for the news, Sally. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +How could he go and he the last of them? Sure it +would be against nature. Where did you see him, Sally? + +SALLY +At Martin Douras's, father. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +It's that Ellen Douras that's putting him up to all +this. Don't you be said by her, Sally. + +SALLY +No, father. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +You're a good girl, and if you haven't wit, you have +sense. He'll be home soon, did you say? + +SALLY +He was coming home. He went round the long way, I'm thinking. +Ellen Douras was vexed with him, father. She isn't going either, +Matt says, but I'm thinking that you might as well try to keep a +corncrake in the meadow for a whole winter, as to try to keep Ellen +Douras in Aughnalee. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Make the place tidy for him to come into. He'll have +no harsh words from me. _(He goes up to the room)_ + +SALLY +Father's surely getting ould. + +MARTIN DOURAS +_(sitting down)_ He's gone up to rest himself, God +help him. Sally, _a stor_, I'm that fluttered, I dread going into my +own house. + +SALLY +I'll get ready now, and let you have a good supper before you +go to the fair. + +MARTIN DOURAS +Sit down near me, and let me hear everything, Sally. +Was it Matt that told you, or were you talking to Ellen herself? + +SALLY +O, indeed, I had a talk with Ellen, but she won't give much of +her mind away. It was Matt that was telling me. "Indeed she's not +going," said he, "and a smart young fellow like myself thinking of +her. Ellen is too full of notions." Here's Matt himself. Father +won't have a word to say to him. He's getting mild as he's getting +ould, and maybe it's a fortune he'll be leaving to myself. + + _Matt comes to the door. He enters_. + +MATT +Where is he? He's not gone to the fair so early? + +SALLY +He's in the room. + +MATT +Were you talking to him at all? Were you telling him you saw +myself? + +SALLY +I was telling him that you were coming back. + +MATT +How did he take it? + +SALLY +Very quiet. God help us all; I think father's losing his spirit. + +MATT +_(going to Martin)_ Well, you see I've come back, Martin. + +MARTIN DOURAS +Ay, you're a good lad. I always said you were a good +lad. + +MATT +How did father take it, Martin? + +MARTIN DOURAS +Quietly, quietly. You saw Ellen? + +MATT +Ay, I saw Ellen _(gloomily)_. She shouldn't talk the way she +talks, Martin. What she said keeps coming into my mind, and I'm +troubled. God knows I've trouble enough on my head. + +MARTIN DOURAS +_(eagerly)_ What did she say, Matt Cosgar? + +MATT +It wasn't what she said. She has that school in her mind, I know. + +MARTIN DOURAS +And is there anything to keep her here, Matt Cosgar? + +MATT +I don't know that she thinks much of me now. We had a few words, +but there's nothing in the world I put above Ellen Douras. + +MARTIN DOURAS +I should be going to her. + +MATT +Wait a bit, and I'll be going with you. Wait a bit. Let us talk +it over. She wouldn't go from you, and you old. + +MARTIN DOURAS +God forgive my age, if it would keep her here. Would I +have my Ellen drawing turf, or minding a cow, or feeding pigs? + +MATT +I'm fond of her, Martin. She couldn't go, and I so fond of her. +What am I doing here? I should be making it up with her. What good +will anything be if Ellen Douras goes? _(He turns to the door, then +stops)_ I came to settle with him. I mustn't be running about like a +frightened child. + + _The room door opens, and Murtagh Cosgar is seen. Sally has hung a + pot over the fire, and is cleaning the dishes at the dresser_. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +_(at the room door)_ Sally, it's time to be putting +on the meal. If you have any cabbage left, put it through the meal. +_(To Matt)_ You put the thong in the harness? + +MATT +I did _(pause)_ Well, I've come back to you. + +MURTGAH COSGAR +You're welcome. We were making ready for the fair. + +MATT +I'll be going out again before nightfall. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +I'll not be wanting you here, or at the fair. + +MATT +_(sullenly)_ There's no good talking to me like that. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +You said, "I've come back," and I said, "you're +welcome." You said, "I'm going out again," and I said, "I'll not be +wanting you." + +MATT +Father, have you no feeling for me at all? + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Sure the wild raven on the tree has thought for her +young. + +MATT +Ay, but do you feel for me, and I standing here, trying to talk +to you? + +MURTAGH COSGAR +You're my son, and so I feel sorry for you; and you +beginning to know your own foolishness. _(He turns to Sally)_ I'm +not taking the pigs. Put a fresh bedding under them to-night. + +SALLY +I will, father. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Be up early, and let the cows along the road, or +they'll be breaking into the young meadow. + +SALLY +I'll do that, too. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Be sure to keep enough fresh milk for the young calf. + +SALLY +I'll be sure to do it, father. + + _She goes out. Martin takes out his paper, and begins to read it + again_. + +MATT +_(turning on Murtag)_ Before I go out again there's something I +want settled. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +What is it you want? + +MATT +Would you have me go, or would you have me stay? + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Don't be talking of going or staying, and you the last +of them. + +MATT +But I will be talking of it. You must treat me differently if +you want me to stay. You must treat me differently to the way you +treat Sally. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +You were always treated differently, Matt. In no +house that ever I remember was there a boy treated as well as you +are treated here. + +MATT +The houses that you remember are different from the houses that +are now. Will you have me go, or will you have me stay? + +MURTAGH COSGAR +You're very threatening. I'd have you stay. For the +sake of the name, I'd have you stay. + +MATT +Let us take hands on it, then. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Wait, we'll see what you want first. + +MATT +You have no feeling. I'd go out of this house, only I want to +give you a chance. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Stop. We can have kindness in this. We needn't be +beating each other down, like men at a fair. + +MATT +We're not men at a fair. May God keep the kindness in our hearts. + + _Martin rises_. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Don't be going, Martin Douras. + +MATT +Don't be going yet. I'll be with you, when you're going. + + _Martin sits down_. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +_(to Matt)_ You'll be getting married, I suppose, if +you stay? + +MATT +Maybe I will. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +_(bitterly)_ In the houses that are now, the young +marry where they have a mind to. It's their own business, they say. + +MATT +Maybe it is their own business. I'm going to marry Ellen Douras, +if she'll have me. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Ellen is a good girl, and clever, I'm told. But I +would not have you deal before you go into the fair. + +MATT +I'm going to marry Ellen Douras. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Her father is here, and we can settle it now. What +fortune will you be giving Ellen, Martin? That 100 pounds that was +saved while you were in Maryborough gaol? + + _Martin shakes his head_. + +MATT +_(stubbornly)_ I'm going to marry Ellen Douras, with or without +a fortune. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +_(passionately)_ Boy, your father built this house. +He got these lands together. He has a right to see that you and your +generations are in the way of keeping them together. + +MATT +I'll marry Ellen Douras, with or without a fortune. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Marry her, then. Marry Ellen Douras. + +MATT +Now, Martin, we mustn't let an hour pass without going to her. +_(He takes Martin's arm, and they go to the door)_ + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Marry Ellen Douras, I bid you. Break what I have built, +scatter what I have put together. That is what all the young will be +doing, + + _Ellen Douras comes to the door as Matt and Martin reach it_. + +MATT +Ellen! + + _She shrinks back_. + +ELLEN +It's my father I came to speak to. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +_(going to the door, and drawing the bolt from the half-door)_ +When you come to my house, Ellen Douras, you are welcome within. + + _Ellen comes in_, + +ELLEN +It's right that I should speak to you all. Matt Cosgar, I am +going from here. + +MATT +Ellen, Ellen, don't be saying that. Don't be thinking of the +few words between us. It's all over now. Father agrees to us marrying. +Speak, father, and let her hear yourself say it. + +ELLEN +I can't go into a farmer's house. + +MATT +You said that out of passion. Don't keep your mind on it any +longer. + +ELLEN +It's true, it's true. I can't go into a farmer's house. This +place is strange to me. + +MATT +How can you talk like that? I'm always thinking of you. + +ELLEN +I've stayed here long enough. I want my own way; I want to +know the world. + +MATT +If you go, how will I be living, day after day? The heart will +be gone out of me. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +You'll be owning the land, Matt Cosgar. + +MATT +_(passionately)_ I've worked on the land all my days. Don't +talk to me about it now. + + _Ellen goes to Martin. Murtagh goes up to the door, and then turns + and speaks_. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Listen to me, Matt Cosgar; and you listen too, Ellen +Douras. It's a new house you want maybe. This house was built for me +and my generations; but I'll build a new house for you both. It's +hard for a man to part with his land before the hour of his death; +and it's hard for a man to break his lands; but I'll break them, and +give a share of land to you. + +ELLEN +You were never friendly to me; but you have the high spirit, +and you deserve a better daughter than I would make. The land and +house you offer would be a drag on me. _(She goes to the door)_ + +MATT +Ellen, what he offers is nothing, after all; but I care for you. +Sure you won't go from me like that? + +ELLEN +Oh, can't you let me go? +I care for you as much as I care for any one. But it's my freedom I +want. + +MATT +Then you're going surely? + +ELLEN +I am. Good-bye. + + _She goes out, Martin follows her. Matt stands dazed. Murtagh + closes the door, then goes and takes Matt's arm, and brings him down_. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Be a man. We offered her everything, and she went. +There's no knowing what the like of her wants. The men will be in +soon, and we'll drink to the new ownership. + +MATT +Oh, what's the good in talking about that now? If Ellen was here, +we might be talking about it. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +To-morrow you and me might go together. Ay, the bog +behind the meadow is well drained by this, and we might put the +plough over it. There will be a fine, deep soil in it, I'm thinking. +Don't look that way, Matt, my son. + +MATT +When I meet Ellen Douras again, it's not a farmer's house I'll +be offering her, nor life in a country place. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +No one could care for you as I care for you. I know +the blood between us, and I know the thoughts I had as I saw each of +you grow up. + + _Matt moves to the door_. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Where are you going? + +MATT +To see the boys that are going away. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Wait till the fall and I'll give you money to go and +come back. Farrell Kavanagh often goes to America. You could go with +him. + +MATT +I'll go by myself, unless Ellen Douras comes now. The creamery +owes me money for the carting, and I'll get it. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Then go. Good-bye to you, Matt Cosgar. + +MATT +Good-bye to you. + + _He goes out. Murtagh stands, then moves about vaguely_ + +MURTAGH COSGAR +The floor swept, the hearth tidied. It's a queer end +to it all. Twenty years I bid them offer. Twenty years, twenty years! + + _Martin comes back_. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +The men will be coming back. + +MARTIN DOURAS +I suppose they will. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +You're a queer fellow, Martin Douras. You went to +gaol for some meeting. + +MARTIN DOURAS +Ay. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Them was the stirring times. I can't help but think +of you in gaol, and by yourself. What brings you back now? + +MARTIN DOURAS +Ellen told me to go back. I should say something to +Matt, I think. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +He went out as you came in. + +MARTIN DOURAS +I'll go in when the house is quiet. I'll have a few +prayers to be saying this night. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +I'm going to the fair. + +MARTIN DOURAS +I won't be going to the fair. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Why won't you be going to the fair? Didn't you ask me +for a lift? You'll be going with me. + +MARTIN DOURAS +I won't be going, and don't be overbearing me now, +Murtagh Cosgar. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +You will be going to the fair, if it was only to be +showing that, seemly face of yours. _(Going to the door, he calls)_ +"Sally!" _(He turns to Martin Douras)_ I've a daughter still, Martin +Douras. + +MARTIN DOURAS +You have, and I have a son. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +What would you say to a match between them, Martin +Douras? + +MARTIN DOURAS +I have nothing to say again it. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Then a match it will be. + + _Sally comes in from yard_. + +SALLY +If you fed that baste on honey, she'd turn on you. Cabbage I +gave her and got into trouble for it, and now she's gone and +trampled the bad potatoes till they're hardly worth the boiling. +I'll put the bush in the gap when I'm going out again, father. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Ay. Is that Cornelius Douras that's coming up the path? + +SALLY +O faith it is. I'll get him to give me a hand with the trough. + + _Cornelius comes in_. + +CORNELIUS +Well, Murtagh Cosgar, a great and memorial day is ended. +May you live long to enjoy the fruits of it. Twenty years on the +first term, and the land is ours and our children's. I met the men. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Ours and our children's, ay. We've been making a +match between yourself and Sally. + +CORNELIUS +Between me and Sally? + +SALLY +Between Cornelius and myself? + +MURTAGH COSGAR +Ay, shake hands on it now. + +CORNELIUS +And tell me one thing, Murtagh Cosgar. Is it true that +Matt's going to America, and that Ellen will wait for him for a year +at the school? I met them together, and they told me that. + +MURTAGH COSGAR +What they say is true, I'm sure. The land is yours +and your children's. + +SALLY +_(wiping her hands in her apron)_ O Cornelius. + +CORNELIUS +Aren't they foolish to be going away like that, father, +and we at the mouth of the good times? The men will be coming in soon, +and you might say a few words. _(Martin shakes his head)_ Indeed you +might, father; they'll expect it of you. _(Martin shakes his head. +Murtagh and Sally try to restrain him)_ "Men of Ballykillduff," you +might say, "stay on the land, and you'll be saved body and soul; +you'll be saved in the man and in the nation. The nation, men of +Ballykillduff, do you ever think of it at all? Do you ever think of +the Irish nation that is waiting all this time to be born?" + + _He becomes more excited; he is seen to be struggling with words_. + +END OF PLAY + + +THE LAND was first produced at the Abbey Theater, Dublin, in June, +1905, by The Irish National Theater Society, under the direction of +W.G. Fay, with the following cast:-- + +MURTAGH COSGAR W. G. Fay +MATT Proinsias MacSiubhlaigh +SALLY Sara Allgood +MARTIN DOURAS F.J. Fay +CORNELIUS Arthur Sinclair +ELLEN Maire Ni Gharbhaigh. + + + + +_THOMAS MUSKERRY_ + + +CHARACTERS + +THOMAS MUSKERRY The Master of Garrisowen Workhouse +MRS. CRILLY His Daughter +CROFTON CRILLY His Son-in-law +ALBERT CRILLY His Grandson +ANNA CRILLY His Granddaughter +JAMES SCOLLARD Thomas Muskerry's Successor +FELIX TOURNOUR The Porter at Workhouse Lodge +MYLES GORMAN A Blind Piper +CHRISTY CLARKE A Boy reared in the Workhouse +SHANLEY | +MICKIE CRIPES | Paupers in Workhouse +AN OLD MAN | + +SCENE: _Garrisowen, a town in the Irish Midlands_. + + + +ACT FIRST + + _The Master's office in Garrisowen Workhouse. It is partly an + office, partly a living room. To the right is a door opening on + corridor, and in the back, left, a door leading to the Master's + apartments. There is an iron stove down from back and towards right, + and a big grandfather's clock back towards door of apartments. A + basket arm chair down from stove, and a wooden chair beside it. + There is a desk against wall, left, and an office stool before it. + Down from this desk a table on which is a closed desk. On table are + books, papers, and files. On a wooden chair beside the arm chair is + a heap of newspapers and periodicals. There is a rack beside + corridor door, and on rack a shawl, an old coat, a hat, and a bunch + of big keys. In the corner, right, is a little cabinet, and on it a + small mirror. Above door of apartments a picture of Daniel O'Connell. + The grandfather's clock is ticking audibly. It is 8.45 p.m. The gas + over desk is lighted_. + + _Christy Clarke, a youth of about seventeen, is seated in the + armchair reading a periodical. His clothes are threadbare, but + brushed and clean. He looks studious, and has intellectual + possibilities. The clock ticks on, the boy reads, but with little + attention. At the corridor door there is a knocking. Christy Clarke + turns slightly. The door opens, and a tall man in the ugly dress of + a pauper is seen. The man is Felix Tournour. He carries in a bucket + of coal. He performs this action like one who has acquired the habit + of work under an overseer. He is an ugly figure in his pauper dress. + His scanty beard is coal black. He has a wide mouth and discoloured + teeth. His forehead is narrow and bony. He is about forty-five._ + +TOURNOUR +_(in a harsh voice, after looking around)_ Is he not back +yet? + +CHRISTY +_(without stirring)_ Is who not back yet? + +TOURNOUR +The master I'm talking about. I don't know where he does be +going those evenings. + + _He shovels coal into the stove_. + +CHRISTY +And what is it to you where he does be going? + +TOURNOUR +Don't talk to me like that, young fellow. You're poorhouse +rearing, even though you are a pet. Will he be sitting up here +to-night, do you know? + +CHRISTY +What's that to you whether he will or not? + +TOURNOUR +If he's sitting up late he'll want more coal to his fire. + +CHRISTY +Well, the abstracts will have to be finished to-night. + +TOURNOUR +Then he will be staying up. He goes out for a walk in the +evenings now, and I don't know where he does be going. + +CHRISTY +He goes out for a walk in the country. _(Tournour makes a +leer of contempt)_ Do you never go for a walk in the country, Felix +Tournour? + +TOURNOUR +They used to take me out for walks when I was a little +fellow, but they never got me out into the country since. + +CHRISTY +I suppose, now that you're in the porter's lodge, you watch +every one that goes up and down the road? + +TOURNOUR +It gratifies me to do so--would you believe that now? + +CHRISTY +You know a lot, Felix Tournour. + +TOURNOUR +We're told to advance in knowledge, young fellow. How long +is Tom Muskerry the Master of Garrisowen Workhouse? + +CHRISTY +Thirty years this spring. + +TOURNOUR +Twenty-nine years. + +CHRISTY +He's here thirty years according to the books. + +TOURNOUR +Twenty-nine years. + +CHRISTY +Thirty years. + +TOURNOUR +Twenty-nine years. I was born in the workhouse, and I mind +when the Master came in to it. Whist now, here he is, and time for +him. + + _He falls into an officious manner. He closes up the stove and puts + bucket away. Then he goes over to desk, and, with his foot on the + rung of the office stool, he turns the gas on full. Christy Clarke + gets out of armchair, and begins to arrange the periodicals that are + on wooden chair. The corridor door opens. The man who appears is not + the Master, however. He is the blind piper, Myles Gorman, who is + dressed in the pauper garb. Myles Gorman is a Gael of the West of + Ireland, with a face full of intellectual vigour. He is about sixty, + and carries himself with energy. His face is pale and he has a + fringe of a white beard. The eye-balls in his head are contracted, + but it is evident he has some vestiges of sight. Before the others + are aware who he is, he has advanced into the room. He stands there + now turning the attentive face of the blind_. + +GORMAN +Mister Muskerry! Are you there, Mister Muskerry? + +TOURNOUR +What do you want, my oul' fellow? + +GORMAN +_(with a puzzled look)_ Well, now, I've a favour to ask of +your honour. + +TOURNOUR +Be off out of this to your ward. + +GORMAN +Is that Mister Muskerry? + +CHRISTY +Mister Muskerry isn't here. + +GORMAN +And who am I talking to? + +CHRISTY +You are talking to Felix Tournour. + +GORMAN +Felix Tournour! Ay, ay. Good night, Felix Tournour. When will +the Master be back? + +TOURNOUR +_(coming to him)_ Not till you're out of this, and back in +your ward. + +GORMAN +Wasn't there a boy speaking to me? + +CHRISTY +Yes _(speaking as if to a deaf man)_ The Master will be +going the rounds in a while, and you can speak to him in the ward. + +GORMAN I've a favour to ask the Master, and I don't want to ask it +before the others. _(To Christy)_ Will the Master be here soon, a +vick vig? [6] + +TOURNOUR +_(taking him by the shoulders)_ Here, now, come on, this is +your way out. + + _He turns Gorman to the door. As he is putting him out Thomas + Muskerry enters_ + +TOURNOUR +This oul' fellow came into the office, and I was leading +him back into his ward. + +MUSKERRY +Leave the man alone. + + _Tournour retreats to the stove and takes up the bucket; after a + look behind he goes out and closes the corridor door. Christy Clarke + takes the periodicals over to table and sits down. Myles Gorman has + been eager and attentive. Thomas Muskerry stands with his back to the + stove. He is over sixty. He is a large man, fleshy in face and figure, + sanguine and benevolent in disposition. He has the looks and + movements of one in authority. His hair is white and long; his + silver beard is trimmed. His clothes are loosely fitting. He wears + no overcoat, but has a white knitted muffler round his neck. He has + on a black, broad-brimmed hat, and carries a walking-stick._ + +[Footnote 6: _A mhic bhig,_ my little son.] + +MUSKERRY +Well, my good man? + +GORMAN +I'm here to ask a favour from you, Master. + +MUSKERRY +You should proffer your request when I'm in the ward. +However, I'm ready to give you my attention. + +GORMAN +I'm a blinded man, Master, and when you're in the ward I +can't get you by yourself conveniently. I can't come up to you like +the other oul' men and speak to you private like. + +MUSKERRY +Well, now, what can I do for you? + +GORMAN +_(eagerly)_ They tell me that to-morrow's the market-day, and +I thought that you might give me a pass, and let me go out about the +town. + +MUSKERRY +We'll consider it, Gorman. + +GORMAN +Master, let me out in the town on the market-day. + +MUSKERRY +We couldn't let you out to play your pipes through the town. + +GORMAN +I'm not thinking of the music at all, Master, but to be out +in the day and to feel the throng moving about, and to be talking to +the men that do be on the roads. + +MUSKERRY +We'll consider it, Gorman. _(He takes off muffler, and puts +it on back of armchair)_ + +GORMAN +Well, I'm very much obliged to your honour. Good night to you, +Master. _(He passes Muskerry and goes towards the door. Muskerry has +been regarding him)_ + +MUSKERRY +Tell me this, Gorman, were you always on the roads? + +GORMAN +I was driving cattle, and I was dealing in horses. Then I +took up with an oul' man, and he taught me the pipes. I'm playing +the pipes ever since, and that's thirty years ago. Well, the eyes +began to wither up on me, and now I've only a stim of sight. I'm a +blinded man from this out, Master. + +MUSKERRY +And what will you do? + +GORMAN +Oh, sure the roads of Ireland are before me when I leave this; +I'll be playing my bit of music. _(He moves to the door)_ + +MUSKERRY +Tell me; have you any family yourself? + +GORMAN +Ne'er a chick nor child belonging to me. Ne'er a woman lay by +me. I went the road by myself. Will you think of what I asked you, +Master? + +MUSKERRY +I'll consider it. + +GORMAN +Good night to your honour. Remember my name, Master--Gorman, +Myles Gorman. + + _Muskerry stands looking after Gorman_. + +MUSKERRY +Now, Christy Clarke, I consider that the man gone out is a +very exceptional man. + +CHRISTY +Is it Myles Gorman? + +MUSKERRY +Yes. I'd even say that, considering his station in life, +Myles Gorman is a very superior man. + +CHRISTY +They say he's not a good musician. + +MUSKERRY +And maybe he's not. I consider, however, that there's great +intelligence in his face. He stands before you, and you feel that he +has the life of a young colt, and then you're bound to think that, +in spite of the fact that he's blind and a wanderer, the man has not +wasted his life. _(Muskerry settles himself in the armchair)_ + +CHRISTY +Will you give leave for to-morrow? + +MUSKERRY +No, Christy, I will not. + +CHRISTY +Why not, Mister Muskerry? + +MUSKERRY +That man would break bounds and stay away. + +CHRISTY +Do you think he would? + +MUSKERRY +He'd fly off, like the woodquest flying away from the tame +pigeons. + +CHRISTY +He and his brother had a farm between them. His brother was +married, and one day the brother told Myles to go to Dublin to see a +comrade of his who was sick. Myles was home in a week, and when he +came back he found that his brother had sold the place and was gone +out of the country. + +MUSKERRY +His brother did wrong, but he didn't do so much wrong to +Myles Gorman. + +CHRISTY +How is that, Mister Muskerry? + +MUSKERRY +He sent Myles Gorman to his own life. He's a man who went +his own way always; a man who never had any family nor any affairs; +a man far different from me, Christy Clarke. I was always in the +middle of affairs. Then, too, I busied myself about other people. It +was for the best, I think; but that's finished. On the desk under +your hand is a letter, and I want you to bring it to me. + +CHRISTY +_(going through papers idly)_ "I am much obliged for your +favour--" + +MUSKERRY +That's not it. + +CHRISTY +_(reading another letter)_ "I am about to add to the +obligations under which I stand to you, by recommending to your +notice my grandson, Albert Crilly--" + +MUSKERRY +That's the letter. It's the last of its kind. Bring it to me. +_(Christy Clarke brings over the letter)_ There comes a turn in the +blood and a turn in the mind, Christy. This while back I've been +going out to the country instead of into the town, and coming back +here in the evenings I've seen the workhouse with the big wall +around it, and the big gate going into it, and I've said to myself +that Thomas Muskerry ought to be as secure and contented here as if +he was in his own castle. + +CHRISTY +And so you ought, Mister Muskerry. + +MUSKERRY +Look round at the office, Christy. I've made it as fit for +me as the nest for the wren. I'll spend a few more years here, and +then I'll go out on pension. I won't live in the town, I've seen a +place in the country I'd like, and the people will be leaving it in +a year or two. + +CHRISTY +Where is it, Mister Muskerry? + +MUSKERRY +I'll say no more about it now, but it's not far from this, +and its near the place, where I was reared. + +CHRISTY +And so you'll go back to your own place? + +MUSKERRY +As Oliver Goldsmith my fellow county man, and I might +almost say, my fellow parishioner, says--What's this the lines are +about the hare, Christy? + +CHRISTY +"And like the Hare whom Hounds and Horns pursue Pants to the +place from whence at first he flew." + +MUSKERRY +Aye. "And like the Hare whom Hounds and Horns pursue"-- +_(The clock strikes nine)_ + +CHRISTY +You weren't on the rounds yet? + +MUSKERRY +_(startled)_ Would you believe it, now, it was nearly +passing my mind to go on the rounds? _(He rises, putting the letter +in his pocket)_ Where's that fellow, Albert Crilly? He was to have +been in here to give me a hand with the abstracts. Christy Clarke, +go down to Miss Coghlan's and get me two novelettes. Bring me up two +nice love stories, and be here when I come back. + + _Christy Clarke takes his cap off rack and goes out. Thomas + Muskerry puts on his scarf, goes to the rack and takes down the + bunch of keys. As he is going out Felix Tournour enters with a + bucket of coal. He carries it over to the stove_. + +MUSKERRY +Now, Tournour, sweep up this place. + + _Thomas Muskerry goes out by corridor door. Felix Tournour takes + brush from under desk, left, and begins to sweep in the direction of + corridor door_. + +TOURNOUR +Sweeping, sweeping! I'll run out of the house some day on +account of the work I've to do for Master Thomas Muskerry. _(He +leans on his brush in front of stove)_ I know why you're going for +walks in the country, my oul' cod. There's them in town that you've +got enough of. You don't want to go bail for Madam Daughter, nor for +Count Crofton Crilly, your son-in-law, nor for the Masters and +Mistresses; all right, my oul' cod-fish. That I may see them laying +you out on the flags of Hell. _(He puts the brush standing upright, +and speaks to it)_: + + "The Devil went out for a ramble at night, + Through Garrisowen Union to see every sight. + The ould men were dreaming of meat to come near them, + And the Devil cocked ears at the words for to hear them. + 'Twice a year we get meat,' said the toothless oul' men, + 'Oh, Lord send the meat won't be too tough again.' + To clear away dishes Mick Fogarty goes, + May the Devil burn the nails off his toes. + Deep dreaming that night of fast days before, + Sagging the walls with the pull of his snore, + In his chamber above Thomas Muskerry lay snug, + When the Devil this summons roared in his lug--" + + _The door of the Master's apartments is opened and Albert Crilly + enters. Albert Crilly is a young man, who might be a bank clerk or a + medical student. He is something of a dude, but has a certain + insight and wit_. + +ALBERT +_(lighting a cigarette)_ Is the grandparent here, Tournour? + +TOURNOUR +He's gone on the rounds, Mister Albert. + +ALBERT +What time was he up this morning? + +TOURNOUR +He was late enough. He wasn't up in time to come to Mass +with us. + +ALBERT +The old man will get into trouble. + +TOURNOUR +If the nuns hear about it. + +ALBERT +He'll have to give the whole thing up soon. + +TOURNOUR +He's well off that can get somebody else to do the work for +him. _(He continues to sweep towards corridor)_ + +ALBERT +Tournour, you're a damned clever fellow. I heard a piece of +yours yesterday that I thought was damned good. + +TOURNOUR +Was it a rhyme? + +ALBERT +It was something called "The Devil's Rambles." + +TOURNOUR +_(taking a step towards him)_ Don't let the boss hear, and +I'll tell it to you, Mr. Albert. _(He holds the brush in his hands +and is about to begin the recitation when Crofton Crilly enters from +the Master's apartments. Crofton Crilly has a presentable appearance. +He is big and well made, has a fair beard and blue eyes. A pipe is +always in his mouth. He is a loiterer, a talker, a listener)_ + +CRILLY +Are you going to finish the abstracts to-night, Albert? + +ALBERT +I believe I am. Go on with "The Devil's Rambles," Tournour. + +CRILLY +I heard it in Keegan's. It's damn good. + +TOURNOUR +I don't like saying it before Mister Crilly. + +CRILLY +_(with easy contempt)_ Go on with it, man; I'll leave a pint +in Keegan's for you. + +TOURNOUR +Well, you mightn't like it. + +CRILLY +Have done talking and go on with it. + +TOURNOUR +_(reciting)_-- + + "In his chamber above--a--a _person_ lay snug, + When the Devil this summons roared in his lug-- + 'Get up,' said the Devil, 'and swear you'll be true, + And the oath of allegiance I'll tender anew. + You'll have pork, veal, and lamb, mutton-chops, fowl and fish, + Cabbage and carrots and leeks as you wish. + No fast days to you will make visitation, + For your sake the town will have dispensation. + Long days you will have, without envy or strife, + And when you depart you'll find the same life, + And in the next world you'll have your will and your sway, + With a Poorhouse to govern all your own way, + And I'll promise you this; to keep up your state, + You'll have Felix Tournour to watch at the gate.'" + +CRILLY +That's damn good. I must get a copy of the whole of it to +show at Keegan's. + + _Tournour has swept as far as the corridor door. He opens it and + sweeps down the passage. He goes out and closes door_. + +CRILLY +That's a damn clever fellow. _(He becomes anxious, as with a +troubled recollection. He goes to the little cabinet, opens it, and +takes out a bottle of whisky and a glass. He pours some whisky into +the glass, and remains looking at himself in the mirror. He smooths +his beard. He goes to the arm chair with the glass of whisky, the +anxious expression still on his face)_ This is a cursed town. +_(He drinks)_ + +ALBERT +Every town in Ireland is a cursed town. + +CRILLY +But this is an extraordinarily cursed town. Everybody's in +debt to everybody else. I don't know what's to be done. Now, imagine +that fellow, James Covey, failing in business and getting clear out +of the town. + +ALBERT +Covey seems to have done it well. + +CRILLY +God knows how many he has stuck. + +ALBERT +Well, he didn't stick the Crillys for anything. + +CRILLY +Albert, you don't know how these financial things work out. +Do you think would his brother settle? + +ALBERT +Settle with whom? + +CRILLY +Well ... with any of the ... any of the people that have ... +I don't know. It's a cursed town. If I had joined the police at your +age, I'd have a pension by this, and I mightn't care for any of them. + +ALBERT +I wish I had a job and I'd wait on the pension. + +CRILLY +Oh, you'll be all right. The grandfather is seeing about your +job. + +ALBERT +If the grandparent gets me that job I'll want two new suits +at least. + +CRILLY +'Pon my soul, Albert, I don't know what's to be done. ( +_His mind wanders off)_ I suppose the abstracts have to go out in +the morning. + +ALBERT +They have. And damn all the old man has done to them. + +CRILLY +The Guardians hear that he's late in the mornings, Albert, +and some of them are beginning to question his fitness to check the +stores. + +ALBERT +The old man ought to resign. + +CRILLY +I suppose he ought. I'm not wishing for his resignation myself, +Albert. You know your mother regards it as a settled thing that he +should come and live with us. + +ALBERT +The mother and Anna are preparing for the event. + +CRILLY +How's that, Albert? + +ALBERT +Mother has James Scollard in her eye for the new Master. + +CRILLY +Right enough! Scollard would get it, too, and then he would +marry Anna. + +ALBERT +That's the arrangement, I expect. + +CRILLY +It mightn't be bad. Scollard mightn't want Nancy's money +under that arrangement. Still I don't like the idea of the old man +living in the house. + +ALBERT +The mother would never think of letting him take himself and +his pension anywhere else. + +CRILLY +I don't think she would. + +ALBERT +I wouldn't be surprised if he did go somewhere else. I hear +he often goes up to that cottage in Stradrina. + +CRILLY +What cottage, Albert? + +ALBERT +Briar Cottage. I hear he sits down there, and talks of coming +to live in the place. + +CRILLY +_(warningly)_ Albert, don't clap hands behind the bird. Take +my word, and say nothing about it. + +ALBERT +All right. + +CRILLY +We'd have no comfort in the house if your mother's mind was +distracted. + + _Mrs. Crilly enters from corridor. She is a woman of forty, dressed + in a tailor-made costume. She has searching eyes. There is something + of hysteria about her mouth. She has been good-looking._ + +CRILLY +Good night, Marianne. + +MRS. CRILLY Are you finishing the abstracts, Albert? + +ALBERT +I'm working at them. It's a good job we didn't leave the old +man much latitude for making mistakes. + +MRS. CRILLY +_(closing door)_ He'll have to resign. + +CRILLY +Good God, Marianne. _(He rises)_ + +MRS. CRILLY +Well. Let him be sent away without a pension. Of course, +he can live with us the rest of his life and give us nothing for +keeping him. + +CRILLY +I don't know what's in your mind at all, Marianne. _(He +crosses over to the cabinet, opens it, and fills out another glass +of whisky)_ + +ALBERT +Let the old man do what suits himself. + +CRILLY +_(coming back to stove)_ Do, Marianne. Let him do what +suits himself. For the present. + +MRS. CRILLY +For pity's sake put down that glass and listen to what I +have to say. + +CRILLY +What's the matter, Marianne? + +MRS. CRILLY +James Scollard came to me to-day, and he told me about +the things that are noticed.... The nuns notice them, the Guardians +notice them. He misses Mass. He is late on his rounds. He can't +check the stores that are coming into the house. He may get himself +into such trouble that he'll be dismissed with only an apology for a +pension, or with no pension at all. + +CRILLY +I don't know what's to be done. + +MRS. CRILLY +If he could be got to resign now James Scollard would +have a good chance of becoming Workhouse Master. He would marry Anna, +and we would still have some hand in the affairs of the House. + +CRILLY +Yes, yes. I think that Scollard could make a place for himself. + +ALBERT +The old man won't be anxious to retire. + +MRS. CRILLY +Why shouldn't he retire when his time is up? + +ALBERT +Well, here he is what's called a potentate. He won't care to +come down and live over Crilly's shop. + +MRS. CRILLY +And where else would he live in the name of God? + +ALBERT +He won't want to live with our crowd. + +MRS. CRILLY +What crowd? The boys can be sent to school, you'll be on +your situation, and Anna will be away. _(She seats herself in the +armchair)_ I don't know what Albert means when he says that the +Master would not be content to live with us. It was always settled +that he would come to us when his service was over. + + _Albert, who has been going over the books, has met something that + surprises him. He draws Crilly to the desk. The two go over the + papers, puzzled and excited. Anna Crilly enters from corridor. She + is a handsome girl of about nineteen or twenty, with a rich + complexion dark hair and eyes. She is well dressed, and wears a cap + of dark fur. She stands at the stove, behind her mother, holding her + hands over the stove. Mrs. Crilly watches the pair at the desk_. + +MRS. CRILLY +We can't think of allowing a pension of fifty pounds a +year to go out of our house. Where will we get money to send the +boys to school? + +ANNA +Mother. Grandfather is going to live away from us. + +MRS. CRILLY +Why do you repeat what Albert says? + +ANNA +I didn't hear Albert say anything. + +MRS. CRILLY +Then, what are you talking about? + +ANNA +Grandfather goes to Martin's cottage nearly every evening, and +stays there for hours. They'll be leaving the place in a year or two, +and Grandfather was saying that he would take the cottage when he +retired from the Workhouse. + +MRS. CRILLY +When did you hear this? + +ANNA +This evening. Delia Martin told me. + +MRS. CRILLY +And that's the reason why he has kept away from us. He +goes to strangers, and leaves us in black ignorance of his thought. + + _Crilly and Albert are busy at desk_. + +CRILLY +Well, damn it all-- + +ALBERT +Here's the voucher. + +CRILLY +God! I don't know what's to be done. + +ALBERT +It's a matter of fifty tons. + + _Albert turns round deliberately, leaving his father going through + the papers in desperate eagerness. Albert takes a cigarette from + behind his ear, takes a match-box from his waistcoat pocket, and + strikes a light. He goes towards door of apartments. Mrs. Crilly + rises_. + +ALBERT +_(his hand on the handle of door)_ Well so-long. + +MRS. CRILLY +Where are you going? + +ALBERT +I'm leaving you to talk it over with the old man. + + _Mrs. Crilly looks from Albert to Crilly_. + +CRILLY +The Master has let himself in for something serious, Marianne. + +ALBERT +It's a matter of fifty pounds. The old man has let the +Guardians pay for a hundred tons of coal when only fifty were +delivered. + +MRS. CRILLY +Is that so, Crofton? + +CRILLY +It looks like it, Marianne. + +ALBERT +There were fifty tons of coal already in stores, but the +Governor didn't take them into account. That cute boy, James Covey, +delivered fifty tons and charged for the hundred. The old man passed +on the certificate, and the Guardians paid Covey. They helped him to +his passage to America. _(He opens door and goes through)_ + +MRS. CRILLY +They will dismiss him--dismiss him without a pension. + +ANNA +Mother. If he gets the pension first, could they take it back +from him? + +CRILLY +No. But they could make him pay back the fifty pounds in +instalments. + +MRS. CRILLY +Fifty pounds! We can't afford to lose fifty pounds. + +ANNA +Who would find out about the coal, father? + +CRILLY +The Guardians who take stock. + +ANNA +And how would they know at this time whether there was a +hundred or a hundred and fifty tons there at first? + +CRILLY +The business men amongst them would know. However, there +won't be an inspection for some time. + +ANNA +Suppose grandfather had got his pension and had left the +Workhouse, who would know about the coal? + +CRILLY +The new Workhouse Master. + +MRS. CRILLY +The new Workhouse Master-- + +CRILLY +Marianne-- + +MRS. CRILLY +Well? + +CRILLY +I think I'll stay here and advise the old man. + +MRS. CRILLY +No. Go away. + +CRILLY +_(at door of apartments)_ After all, I'm one of the Guardians, +and something might be done. + +MRS. CRILLY +You can do nothing. We can do nothing for him. Let him +go to the strangers. + + _Crilly goes out_. + +MRS. CRILLY +Anna! + +ANNA +Yes, mother. + +MRS. CRILLY +The Martins are not giving up their house for a year or two? + +ANNA +No, mother. + +MRS. CRILLY +If he resigns now his pension will be safe. There is +nothing else against him. + +ANNA +But some one will find out the difference in the coal. + +MRS. CRILLY +It's the new Workhouse Master who will know that. + +ANNA +_(hardening)_ But _he_ could not pass such a thing, mother. + +MRS. CRILLY +_(abandoning a position)_ Well, after your grandfather +gets his pension we could make some arrangement with the Guardians. + +ANNA +Yes, mother. Hasn't grandfather a hundred pounds invested in +the shop? + +MRS. CRILLY +It's not a hundred pounds. Besides, it's not an +investment. + +ANNA +_(with a certain resolution in her rich voice)_ Mother. Is my +money safe? + +MRS. CRILLY +We could give you the eighty pounds, Anna, but after +that we would need all the help we could get from you. + +ANNA +Yes, mother. + +MRS. CRILLY +_(again taking up a position)_ But if we help James +Scollard to the place. + +ANNA +_(with determination)_ Whether Mr. Scollard gets the place or +does not get the place, I'll want my fortune, mother. + +MRS. CRILLY +Very well, Anna. If we could get him to come over. ... _(She sits +in arm chair)_ There's a lamb in Ginnell's field; you might call +in to-morrow and ask them to prepare it for us. + +ANNA +Then grandfather is coming to dinner on Sunday? + +MRS. CRILLY +We must get him to come. + + _Some one is coming up the passage. Anna's hand is on handle of door. + She holds it open. Thomas Muskerry stands there_. + +MUSKERRY +_(pleased to see her)_ Well, Nancy! + +ANNA +Good night, grandpapa. _(He regards her with fondness)_ + +MRS. CRILLY +Good night, father. + +MUSKERRY +This Nancy girl is looking remarkably well. _(He turns to +Mrs. Crilly)_ Well, ma'am, and how are you? I've written that letter +for that rascally Albert. + + _He leaves his stick on table and goes to desk. Mrs. Crilly watches + him. Anna comes to her. Muskerry addresses an envelope with some + labour. Mrs. Crilly notices a tress of Anna's hair falling down. Anna + kneels down beside her. She takes off Anna's cap, settles up the hair, + and puts the cap on again. Having addressed the envelope, Muskerry + holds up a piece of wax to the gas. He seals the letter then holds + it out_. + +MUSKERRY +Here's the letter now, and maybe it's the last thing I can +do for any of ye. + +MRS. CRILLY +You are very good. + + _Muskerry goes to them_. + +MUSKERRY +In season and out of season I've put myself at your service. +I can do no more for ye. + + _She takes the letter from him. His resentment is breaking down. He + sits on chair beside armchair. He speaks in a reconciling tone_. + +MUSKERRY +You're looking well, Marianne, + +MRS. CRILLY +I'm beginning to be well again. + +MUSKERRY +And the infant? What age is he now? + +MRS. CRILLY +Little Joseph is ten months old. + +MUSKERRY +I dreamt of him last night. I thought Joseph became a bishop. +He ought to be reared for the Church, Marianne. Well, well, I've +nothing more to do with that. _(He settles himself in the armchair)_ +Did Christy Clarke bring in the papers? + +ANNA +Christy Clarke hasn't been here at all, grandpapa. + +MUSKERRY +Stand here till I look at you Nancy. _(Anna comes left of +stove)_ I wouldn't be surprised if you were the best-looking girl in +the town, Nancy. + +ANNA +_(without any coquettishness)_ Anna Crilly is riot going into +competition with the others. _(She wraps the muffler round him, then +kisses him)_ Good night, grandpapa. _(She goes out by corridor door)_ + +MRS. CRILLY +Thank you for the letter for Albert. + +MUSKERRY +I think, Marianne, it's the last thing I can do for you or +yours. + +MRS. CRILLY +Well, we can't tell a bad story of you, and things are +well with us. + +MUSKERRY +I'm glad to hear that. I was thinking of going to see you +next week. + +MRS. CRILLY +Come to dinner on Sunday. We are having a lamb. + +MUSKERRY +What sort is the lamb? + +MRS. CRILLY +Oh, a very young lamb. Anna will make the dressing for +you. + +MUSKERRY +I'll send round a bottle of wine. Perhaps we'll be in the +way of celebrating something for Albert. + +MRS. CRILLY +Nancy was saying that you might like to stay a few days +with us. + +MUSKERRY +Stay a few days! How could I do that, ma'am? + +MRS. CRILLY +You could get somebody to look after the House. James +Scollard would do it, and you could stay out for a few days. + +MUSKERRY +Well, indeed, I'll do no such thing. What put it into your +head to ask me this? + +MRS. CRILLY +Nancy said-- + +MUSKERRY +Let the girl speak for herself. What's in your mind, woman? + +MRS. CRILLY +Well, you're not looking well. + +MUSKERRY +I'm as well as ever I was. + +MRS. CRILLY +Others do not think so. + +MUSKERRY +I suppose you heard I was late a few mornings. No matter +for that. I'm as well as ever I was. No more talk about it; I'm +going on with the work. _(He rises and goes over to desk)_ + +MRS. CRILLY +I'm sorry to say that no one else thinks as well of you +as you do yourself. + +MUSKERRY +Well, I'll hear no more about it, and that's enough about it. +Why isn't Albert Crilly here? + +MRS. CRILLY +Well, he was here, and he is coming back. + +MUSKERRY +I'll want him. _(He takes up a card left on the desk. He +turns round and reads)_--"You have let the Guardians pay for a +hundred tons. James Covey delivered only fifty tons of coal." Who +left this here? + +MRS. CRILLY +I suppose Albert left it for you. + +MUSKERRY The impudent rascal. How dare he address himself like that +to me? _(He throws card on table)_ + +MRS. CRILLY +Perhaps he found something out in the books. + +MUSKERRY +No matter whether he did or not, he'll have to have respect +when he addresses me. Anyway it's a lie--a damn infernal lie. I was +in the stores the other day, and there was eighty tons of coal still +there. Certainly twenty tons had been taken out of it. The Provision +Check Account will show. _(He takes up a book and turns round. He +goes back some pages. He lets the book fall. He stands there helpless)_ +I suppose you all are right in your judgment of me. I'm at my +failing time. I'll have to leave this without pension or prospect. +They'll send me away. + +MRS. CRILLY +They had nothing against you before this. + +MUSKERRY +I was spoken of as the pattern for the officials of Ireland. + +MRS. CRILLY +If you resigned now-- + +MUSKERRY +Before this comes out. _(He looks for help)_ Marianne, it +would be like the blow to the struck ox if I lost my pension. + +MRS. CRILLY +If you managed to get the pension you could pay the +Guardians back in a lump sum. + +MUSKERRY +If I resigned now, where would I go to? + +MRS. CRILLY +It was always understood that you would stay with us. + +MUSKERRY +No, Marianne. + +MRS. CRILLY +You'll have the place to yourself. The boys will be +going to school, and Albert will be away, too. Anna and myself will +look after you. + +MUSKERRY +I could stay for a while. + +MRS. CRILLY +Oh, well, if you have a better place to go-- + +MUSKERRY +Remember what I said, Marianne. I've worked for you and +yours, in season and out of season. There should be no more claims +on me. + +MRS. CRILLY +There are no more claims on you. + +MUSKERRY +I'm willing to leave in the shop what I put into the shop. +Let Anna know that it will come to her from me. I'll write to the +Guardians to-night and I'll send in my resignation. I venture to +think that they'll know their loss. + + _Mrs. Crilly goes out quietly by corridor door_. + +MUSKERRY +_(by himself)_ And I had made this place as fit for me as +the nest for the wren. Wasn't he glad to write that card, the +impudent rascal, with his tongue in his cheek? I'll consider it again. +I won't leave this place till it fits myself to leave it. + + _Christy Clarice enters by corridor door with papers_. + +MUSKERRY +They want me to resign from this place, Christy. + +CHRISTY +You're thirty years here! Aren't you, Mister Muskerry? + +MUSKERRY +Thirty years, thirty years. Ay, Christy, thirty years; it's +a long time. And I'm at my failing time. Perhaps I'm not able to do +any more. Day after day there would be troubles here, and I wouldn't +be able to face them. And in the end I might lose my position. I'm +going to write out my resignation. _(He goes to the desk and writes. +Christy is at table. Muskerry turns round after writing)_ + +MUSKERRY +No one that comes here can have the same heart for the poor +that I had. I was earning in the year of the famine. I saw able men +struggling to get the work that would bring them a handful of Indian +meal. And I saw the little children waiting on the roads for relief. +_(He turns back and goes on with letter. Suddenly a bell in the +House begins to toll)_ What's that for, Christy? + +CHRISTY +Malachi O'Rourk, the Prince, as they called him, is dead. + +MUSKERRY +Aye, I gave orders to toll him when he died. He was an +estated gentleman, and songs were made about his family. People used +to annoy him, but he's gone from them now. Bring me a little whisky, +Christy. + + _Christy goes to Cabinet. Muskerry follows him_. + +CHRISTY +There's none in the bottle, Mister Muskerry. + +MUSKERRY +_(bitterly)_ No, I suppose not. And is that rascal, Albert +Crilly, coming back? + +CHRISTY +He's coming, Mister Muskerry. I left the novelette on the +table. Miss Coghlan says it's a nice love story. "The Heart of +Angelina," it is called. + +MUSKERRY +I haven't the heart to read. + + _The bell continues to toll. Christy goes to door_. + +CHRISTY +Good night, Mister Muskerry. + +MUSKERRY +Good night, Christy. + + _Christy Clarke goes out through apartments. Thomas Muskerry is + standing with hand on arm chair. The bell tolls_. + +CURTAIN + + +ACT SECOND + + + _In Crilly's, a month later. The room is the parlour off the shop. + A glass door, right, leads into the shop, and the fireplace is above + this door. In the back, right, is a cupboard door. Back is a window + looking on the street. A door, left, leads to other rooms. There is + a table near shop door and a horse-hair sofa back, an armchair at + fire, and two leather-covered chairs about. Conventional pictures on + walls, and two certificates framed, showing that some one in the + house has passed some Intermediate examinations._ + + _It is the forenoon of an April day. Mrs. Crilly is seated on sofa, + going through a heap of account books. Anna Crilly is at window. + Crofton Crilly enters from the shop._ + +CRILLY +It's all right, Marianne. + +MRS. CRILLY +Well? + +CRILLY +The Guardians insisted on appointing an outside person to +take stock of the workhouse stores. It's the new regulation, you know. +Well, the job lay between young Dobbs and Albert, and Albert has got +it. I don't say but it was a near thing. + +MRS. CRILLY +I hope Albert will know what to do. + +CRILLY +He'll want to watch the points. Where's the Master? + +MRS. CRILLY +He's in his room upstairs. + +CRILLY +Was he not out this morning? + +MRS. CRILLY +He's not dressed yet. + +CRILLY +He was more particular when he was in the workhouse. + +ANNA +I know who those two children are now. They are the new +gas-manager's children. + +CRILLY +He's a Scotchman. + +ANNA +And married for the second time. Mother, Mrs. Dunne is going to +the races. Such a sketch of a hat. + +MRS. CRILLY +It would be better for her if she stayed at home and +looked after her business. + +ANNA +She won't have much business to look after soon. That's the +third time her husband has come out of Farrell's public-house. + +CRILLY +He's drinking with the Dispensary Doctor. Companions! They're +the curse of this town, Marianne. _(He sits down)_ + +ANNA +She's walked into a blind man, hat and all. He's from the Workhouse. + +CRILLY +He's the blind piper out of the workhouse, Myles Gorman. + +MRS. CRILLY +There's no one within. You should go into the shop, Anna. + +ANNA +Yes, mother. _(She crosses)_ James Scollard is coming in, mother. + +MRS. CRILLY +Very well, Anna. Stay in the shop until Mary comes. + + _Anna goes into the shop. Crilly moves about_. + +MRS. CRILLY +You're very uneasy. + +CRILLY +Yes, I am uneasy, Marianne. There's some presentment on me. +Fifty pounds a year is a good pension for the old man. He's a month +out now. He ought to be getting an instalment. + + _Anna comes in from shop_. + +ANNA +Mother, the doctor's daughter is in the shop. + +MRS. CRILLY +What does she want? + +ANNA +_(imitating an accent)_ Send up a pound of butter, two pounds +of sugar, and a pound of tea. + +MRS. CRILLY +These people are paying nobody. But we can't refuse her. +I suppose we'll have to send them up. Be very distant with her, Anna. + +ANNA +I've kept her waiting. Here's a letter, mother. + +MRS. CRILLY +_(taking letter)_ When did it come, Anna? + +ANNA +It's just handed in. + + _Anna goes out. Mrs. Crilly opens letter_. + +MRS. CRILLY +It's from the bank. They want me to call. What does the +bank manager want with me, I wonder? + +CRILLY +I have something to tell you, Marianne. I'll tell you in a +while. _(He takes a turn up and down)_ + +MRS. CRILLY +What do you want to tell me? + +CRILLY +Prepare your mind, Marianne. + +MRS. CRILLY +What is it? + +CRILLY +I owe you money, Marianne. + +MRS. CRILLY +Money! How do you owe me money? + +CRILLY +That cute boy, James Covey, who took in all the town-- + +MRS. CRILLY +_(rising)_ Covey! My God! You backed a bill for him? + +CRILLY +I'll make a clean breast of it. I did. + +MRS. CRILLY +_(with fear in her eyes)_ How much is it? + +CRILLY +_(walking away to window)_ I'll come to that, Marianne. + +MRS. CRILLY +Did any one back the bill with you? + +CRILLY +I obliged the fellow. No one backed the bill with me. + +MRS. CRILLY +Does any one know of it? + +CRILLY +No, Marianne. + +MRS. CRILLY +The bank.... Tell me what happened. + +CRILLY +The bank manager sent for me when he came to the town after +Covey cleared. + +MRS. CRILLY +We had four hundred pounds in the bank. + +CRILLY +We had, Marianne. + +MRS. CRILLY +Tell me how much was the bill. + +CRILLY +There's no use in beating about the bush. The bill was for +three hundred pounds. + +MRS. CRILLY +And what has the bank done? + +CRILLY +I'm sorry to say, Marianne, the bank has taken the money over +from our account. + +MRS. CRILLY +You've ruined us at last, Crofton Crilly. + +CRILLY +You should never forgive me, Marianne. I'll go to America and +begin life again. _(He turns to go out by shop)_ + +MRS. CRILLY +We have no money left. + +CRILLY +A hundred pounds, Marianne. + +MRS. CRILLY +That's Anna's money. + +CRILLY +Scollard should be satisfied. + +MRS. CRILLY +Anna insists on getting her money. + +CRILLY +Very well, Marianne. I'll leave it all to yourself. + + _James Scollard comes in. Anna is behind him. Scollard has an + account book in his hand_. + +SCOLLARD +Good morning, Mrs. Crilly. Good morning, Mr. Crilly. + +MRS. CRILLY +Good morning, Mr. Scollard. + + _Crofton Crilly turns to go_. + +ANNA +Don't go, father. + +SCOLLARD +Don't go, Mr. Crilly. I have something particular to say to +yourself and Mrs. Crilly. + +MRS. CRILLY +Sit down, Mr. Scollard. + + _Anna brings chair, and Scollard sits center. Anna stands behind him. + Mrs. Crilly sits left of him_. + +SCOLLARD +I am here to propose for the hand of your daughter, Miss +Anna Crilly. + +MRS. CRILLY +We have nothing to say against your proposal, Mr. Scollard. + +CRILLY +Won't you take something, James? + +SCOLLARD +No, thanks, Mr. Crilly. I never touch intoxicants. + + _Crofton Crilly goes into shop_. + +MRS. CRILLY +We couldn't wish for a better match for Anna. But I feel +bound to tell you, Mr. Scollard, that we have had a very severe loss +in our business. + +ANNA +What is it, mother? + +MRS. CRILLY +I don't mind telling you. Mr. Crilly has made himself +responsible for a bill on the bank. + +SCOLLARD +In whose interest, Mrs. Crilly? + +MRS. CRILLY +He backed a bill for James Covey. A bill for three +hundred pounds. + +ANNA +Oh, mother! + +MRS. CRILLY +It's a dead sure loss. I don't know what we are to do, +Anna. + +SCOLLARD +This is very bad, Mrs. Crilly. + + _Crofton Crilly comes back from shop. He brings in a glass of whisky. +He puts whisky on chimney-piece._ + +MRS. CRILLY +The bank has taken over three hundred pounds from our +account. + +CRILLY +Perhaps Scollard-- + +SCOLLARD +What were you saying, Mr. Crilly? + +CRILLY +Oh, I was just thinking--about a bill you know--If some one +would go security for us at the bank-- + +ANNA +Father, what are you saying? + +MRS. CRILLY +It's unnecessary to talk like that. In spite of your +foolishness, we still have a balance at the bank. + +ANNA +My portion comes to me from my grandmother. + +SCOLLARD +May I ask, Mrs. Crilly, is Miss Crilly's portion safe? + +MRS. CRILLY +It is safe, Mr. Scollard. + +SCOLLARD +I have been definitely appointed Master of the Union, and I +may say that Anna and myself are anxious to marry. + +MRS. CRILLY +It needn't be soon, Mr. Scollard. + +SCOLLARD +After Easter, Mrs. Crilly. + +MRS. CRILLY +But that's very soon. + +SCOLLARD +I am anxious to settle down, Mrs. Crilly. I'm on my way to +a meeting of the Board of Guardians, but before I go I'd like to +have some more information about your loss. + +MRS. CRILLY +Anna's portion is not touched, but we could hardly +afford to let the money go from us now. + +SCOLLARD +Is that so, Mrs. Crilly? + +MRS. CRILLY +Three hundred pounds is a very severe loss. + +SCOLLARD +Very severe, indeed. Still, you understand, Mrs. Crilly, +the difficulties of taking such a step as marriage without adequate +provision. + +CRILLY +Damn it all, man, Marianne and myself married without +anything at all. + +MRS. CRILLY +_(bitterly)_ Anna won't be such a fool as her mother. + +CRILLY +Well, Scollard has his position, and we helped him to it. + +SCOLLARD +I acknowledge that. + +ANNA +Isn't my portion eighty pounds, mother? + +MRS. CRILLY +Yes, Anna. But I'd like to tell Mr. Scollard that it +would come as a strain on us to let the money go at once. + +SCOLLARD +I daresay, Mrs. Crilly. + +ANNA +But, mother, wouldn't the money be safer with us? + +MRS. CRILLY +Well, I leave the whole thing in the hands of Mr. +Scollard. + +SCOLLARD +Anna and myself have been talking things over, Mrs. Crilly. + +ANNA +And we don't want to begin life in a poor way. + +SCOLLARD +We see the advantage of being always solvent, Mrs. Crilly. + +ANNA +James has ambitions, and there's no reason why he shouldn't +venture for the post of Secretary of the County Council when old +Mr. Dobbs retires. + +SCOLLARD +In a few years, Mrs. Crilly, when I had more official +experience and some reputation. + +ANNA +Then he would have seven or eight hundred a year. + +SCOLLARD +As I said, a man like myself would want to be in a +perfectly solvent position. + +ANNA +Besides, James has no money of his own. + +SCOLLARD +I never had the chance of putting money by--Family calls, +Mrs. Crilly. + +ANNA +And we don't want to begin life in a poor way. + +MRS. CRILLY +You won't want the whole of the money. I'll give you +forty pounds now. + +CRILLY +And forty when the first child is born. + +ANNA +Oh, father, how can you say such a thing? + +SCOLLARD +I need only say this. Anna and myself were talking over +affairs, and we came to the conclusion it would be best not to start +with less than eighty pounds. _(He rises)_ I have to go down to the +Board Room now, for there is a meeting of the Guardians. _(He goes +towards door)_ + +CRILLY +Won't you take a glass? + +SCOLLARD +No, thanks, Mr. Crilly. I never touch stimulants. Good day +to you all. + + _He goes out. Crofton Crilly goes after him_. + +MRS. CRILLY +Anna, you won't be deprived of your money. + +ANNA +Then what's the difficulty, mother? + +MRS. CRILLY +Let half of the money remain with us for a while. + +ANNA +But, mother, if I don't get all my money, what security have I +that what's left will be good in six months or a year? + +MRS. CRILLY +I'll watch the money for you, Anna. + +ANNA +It's hard to keep a hold on money in a town where business is +going down. + +MRS. CRILLY +Forty pounds will be given to you and forty pounds will +be kept safe for you. + +ANNA +Forty pounds! There's not a small farmer comes into the shop +but his daughter has more of a dowry than forty pounds. + +MRS. CRILLY +Think of all who marry without a dowry at all. + +ANNA +You wouldn't have me go to James Scollard without a dowry? + +MRS. CRILLY +Well, you know the way we're situated. If you insist on +getting eighty pounds we'll have to make an overdraft on the bank, +and, in the way business is, I don't know how we'll ever recover it. + +ANNA +There won't be much left out of eighty pounds when we get what +suits us in furniture. + +MRS. CRILLY +I could let you have some furniture. + +ANNA +No, mother. We want to start in a way that is different from +this house. + +MRS. CRILLY +You'll want all the money together? + +ANNA +All of it, mother. + +MRS. CRILLY +You'll have to get it so. But you're very hard, Anna. + +ANNA +This house would teach any one to look to themselves. + +MRS. CRILLY +Come upstairs. _(Anna goes, left)_ Three hundred pounds +of a loss. Eighty pounds with that. I'm terrified when I think. +_(She goes after Anna)_ + + _Crofton Crilly comes in from shop. He takes glass of whisky from + table, and sits down in arm chair_. + +CRILLY +I don't know what Marianne's to do at all. She has a shocking +lot to contend with. Can anything be got from the old man, I wonder? + + _Albert Crilly comes in by door, left_. + +ALBERT +Well, pa. + +CRILLY +Well, Albert. What's the news in the town, Albert? + +ALBERT +They say that you've backed a bill for Covey. + +CRILLY +If your mother hears that kind of talk she'll be vexed, Albert. + +ALBERT +But did you back the bill? + +CRILLY +For Heaven's sake, let me alone, Albert. Yes, I backed the +bill. + +ALBERT +How much? + +CRILLY +You'll hear all about it from your mother. + +ALBERT +They say the bill was for three hundred. + +CRILLY +It was three or thereabouts. + +ALBERT +'Pon my word, father, the mother will have to take out a +mandamus against you. + +CRILLY +_(with parental dignity)_ Don't talk to me in that way, Sir. + +ALBERT +It's scandalous, really. I expect you've ruined the business. + +CRILLY +I hate the world and all its works and pomps. + +ALBERT +I believe you've done for the business. I'm going away. + +CRILLY +Then you've got the other appointment? + +ALBERT +Temporary clerkship in the Land Department. I wonder would +the mother let me have the money for clothes? + +CRILLY +_(desperately)_ Don't mention it at all to her. + +ALBERT +I have a card from a Dublin tailor in my pocket. If I could +pay him for one suit, I could get another on tick. + +CRILLY +I tell you not to talk to your mother about money. That fellow, +Scollard, has put her out. + +ALBERT +How's that? + +CRILLY +Money again. Wants the whole of Anna's portion down. And +Anna's backing him up, too. I don't know how your mother can stand it. +I don't like Scollard. Then you won't be staying on, Albert, to do +the stocktaking in the Workhouse? + +ALBERT +No; they'll have to get some one else. I'm glad to be out of +that job. + +CRILLY +I'm not sorry, Albert. + +ALBERT +The mother would expect me to do something queer in my report. + +CRILLY +Between you and me, Albert, women aren't acquainted with the +working of affairs, and they expect unusual things to happen. Who +will they make stocktaker, now? + +ALBERT +Young Dobbs, likely. I suppose the whole business about the +coal will come out then? + +CRILLY +I suppose it will; but say nothing about it now, Albert. Let +the hare sit. + +ALBERT +What does the old man think about it now? + +CRILLY +He's very close to himself. I think he has forgotten all +about it. + +ALBERT +I wouldn't say so. + +CRILLY +Who's that in the shop, Albert? + +ALBERT +Felix Tournour. + +CRILLY _(rising)_ I wonder what they think about Scollard in the +Poor-house. _(He and Albert go into the shop as Muskerry enters from +left)_ + + _Muskerry is untidily dressed. His boots are unlaced. He walks + across the room and speaks pettishly_. + +MUSKERRY +They haven't brought my soup yet. They won't give much of +their time to me. I'm disappointed in Anna Crilly. Well, a certain +share in this shop was to have gone to Anna Crilly. I'll get that +share, and I'll hoard it up myself. I'll hoard it up. And the fifty +pounds of my pension, I'll hoard that up, too. + + _Albert comes in from shop_. + +MUSKERRY +That's a black fire that's in the grate. I don't like the +coal that comes into this place. + +ALBERT +Coal, eh, grandpapa. + +MUSKERRY +I said coal. + +ALBERT +We haven't good stores here. + +MUSKERRY +Confound you for your insolence. + +ALBERT +Somebody you know is in the shop--Felix Tournour. + +MUSKERRY +Bid Tournour come in to me. + +ALBERT +_(talking into the shop)_ You're wanted here, Tournour. Come +in now or I'll entertain the boss with "The Devil's Rambles." +_(He turns to Muskerry)_ I was given the job of stocktaking. + +MUSKERRY +That's a matter for yourself. + +ALBERT +I don't think I'll take the job now. + +MUSKERRY +Why won't you take it? + +ALBERT +I don't know what to say about the fifty tons of coal. + +MUSKERRY +I was too precipitate about the coal. But don't have me at +the loss of fifty pounds through any of your smartness. + +ALBERT +All right, grandfather; I'll see you through. + +MUSKERRY +Confound you for a puppy. + + _Felix Tournour enters. He looks prosperous. He has on a loud check + suit. He wears a red tie and a peaked cap_. + +ALBERT +The Master wants to speak to you, Tournour. + +TOURNOUR +What Master. + +ALBERT +The boss, Tournour, the boss. + +MUSKERRY +I want you, and that's enough for you, Tournour. + +ALBERT +I suppose you don't know, grandpapa, that Tournour has a +middling high position in the Poorhouse now. + +MUSKERRY +What are you saying? + +ALBERT +Tournour is Ward-master now. + +MUSKERRY +I wasn't given any notice of that. + +ALBERT +Eh, Tournour-- + + "The Devil went out for a ramble at night, + Through Garrisowen Union to see every sight. + He saw Felix Tournour--" + +TOURNOUR + + "He saw one in comfort, of that you'll be sure. + With his back to the fire stands Felix Tournour," + + _He puts his back to fire_. + +ALBERT +Well, so-long, gents. _(He goes out by shop door)_ + +MUSKERRY +Let me see you, Tournour. + +TOURNOUR +I'm plain to be seen. + +MUSKERRY +Who recommended you for Ward-master? + +TOURNOUR +Them that had the power. + +MUSKERRY +I would not have done it, Tournour. + +TOURNOUR +No. And still, d'ye see, I'm up and not down. Well, I'll be +going. + +MUSKERRY +Come back here, Tournour. I made it a rule that no +Ward-master should let drink be brought in to the paupers. + +TOURNOUR +It's a pity you're not Master still! + +MUSKERRY +What are you saying? + +TOURNOUR +It's a pity that you're not still the Master over us. + +MUSKERRY +Tournour, you're forgetting yourself. + +TOURNOUR +Well, maybe you are still the Master. + +MUSKERRY +How dare you speak to me with such effrontery? How dare you? + +TOURNOUR +I dunno. I'm going away now, if your _honour_ has nothing +more to say to me. _(He turns to go)_ + +MUSKERRY +You shall not. You shall not, I say. + +TOURNOUR +What? + +MUSKERRY +You shall not go away until you've apologised to me. + +TOURNOUR +Don't be talking, Thomas Muskerry. You're not Master over me. + +MUSKERRY +Not the Master over you? + +TOURNOUR +No. There's an end to your sway, Mr. Muskerry. + +MUSKERRY +Go out of the house. No, stay here. You think I'm out of +the Workhouse. No. That's not so. I've claims, great claims, on it +still. Not for nothing was I there for thirty years, the pattern for +the officials of Ireland. + +TOURNOUR +Twenty-nine years, I'm telling you. + +MUSKERRY +The Guardians will take account of me. + +TOURNOUR +And maybe they would, too. + +MUSKERRY +What's that you're saying? + +TOURNOUR +The Guardians might take an account of Thomas Muskerry in a +way he mightn't like. _(He goes to door)_ + +MUSKERRY +Come back here, Felix Tournour. + +TOURNOUR +I'm not your sub-servant. + +MUSKERRY +Stand here before me. + +TOURNOUR +You and your before me! Your back to heaven and your belly +to hell. + +MUSKERRY +Go away. Go away out of this. + +TOURNOUR +Don't try to down-face me. I know something about you. + +MUSKERRY +About me! + +TOURNOUR +Aye, you and your fifty tons of coal. _(Muskerry goes back +from him)_ Great claims on the Workhouse have you. The Guardians +will take account of you. Will they? Talk to them about the fifty +tons of coal. Go and do that, my pattern of the officials of Ireland! + + _Tournour goes out by shop. Muskerry stands with his hands on the + arm chair_. + +MUSKERRY +This minute I'll go down to the Guardians and make my +complaint. _(He notices his appearance)_ I'm going about all day +with my boots unlaced. I'm falling into bad ways, bad, slovenly ways. +And my coat needs brushing, too. _(He takes off his coat and goes to +window and brushes it)_ That's Myles Gorman going back to the +Workhouse. I couldn't walk with my head held as high as that. In +this house I am losing my uprightness. I'll do more than lace my +boots and brush my coat. I'll go down to the Guardians and I'll pay +them back their fifty pounds. + + _Anna Crilly comes in from left with a bowl of soup_. + +ANNA +Here's your soup, grandpapa. + +MUSKERRY +I can't take it now, Anna. _(He puts on his coat)_ + +ANNA +Are you going out, grandpapa? + +MUSKERRY +I'm going before the meeting of the Board of Guardians. + +ANNA +Are you, grandpapa? + +MUSKERRY +Yes, Anna, I am. I'm going to pay them back their fifty +pounds. + +ANNA +And have you the fifty pounds? + +MUSKERRY +Your mother has it for me. + +ANNA +Sit down, grandpapa, and take your soup. + +MUSKERRY +No, Anna, I won't take anything until my mind is at rest +about the coal. A certain person has spoken to me in a way I'll +never submit to be spoken to again. + + _Mrs. Crilly comes in_. + +MRS. CRILLY +What has happened to you? + +MUSKERRY +Felix Tournour knows about the coal, Marianne. He can +disgrace me before the world. + +ANNA +And grandpapa wants to go before the Guardians and pay them +back the fifty pounds. + +MRS. CRILLY +Wait until we consult Mr. Scollard. + + _Anna goes out_. + +MUSKERRY +No, Marianne. I'm not going to be a party to this any longer. +I'm going before the Guardians, and I'll pay them back their fifty +pounds. + +MRS. CRILLY +Fifty pounds. From what place is fifty pounds to come so +easily? + +MUSKERRY +I'll ask you to give me the fifty pounds, Marianne. + +MRS. CRILLY +I'll do no such thing. Anna is getting married, and she +claims her fortune. + +MUSKERRY +Anna getting married. This was kept from me. And who is +Anna getting married to? + +MRS. CRILLY +To James Scollard. + +MUSKERRY +To James Scollard. And so Anna is getting married to my +successor, James Scollard. My successor. How well I knew there was +some such scheme behind shifting me out of the Workhouse. And Anna +Crilly was against me all the time. Well, well, well. I'll remember +this. + +MRS. CRILLY +I'm at great losses since you came here. + +MUSKERRY +I'm at greater losses, Marianne. + +MRS. CRILLY +What losses are you at? + +MUSKERRY +The loss of my trust, the loss of my dignity, my +self-respect, and-- + +MRS. CRILLY +I think we did all we could for you. + +MUSKERRY +I'm going out now to pay back the Guardians the sum due to +them from me. I want fifty pounds from you. I claim it, and I have a +right to claim it. + +MRS. CRILLY +We have no money at all. Listen. Crofton Crilly backed a +bill for James Covey, and three hundred pounds has been taken from +our account. + +MUSKERRY +Three hundred pounds! + +MRS. CRILLY +Yes. Three hundred pounds. + +MUSKERRY +He backed a bill for three hundred pounds. And do you think, +Marianne Crilly, there can be any luck, in a house where such a +thing could happen? I tell you there is no luck nor grace in your +house. _(He puts on his hat and goes to cupboard to get his stick. He +opens the cupboard. He turns round)_ + +MUSKERRY +_(greatly moved)_ My God, my God. I'm made cry at the +things that happen in this house. + +MRS. CRILLY +What is it? + +MUSKERRY +The good meat I brought in. There it is on the floor and +the cat mangling it. I'll go out of this house, and I'll never put +foot into it again. + +MRS. CRILLY +And where will you go? + +MUSKERRY +I'll go before the Board of Guardians and I'll ask them to +provide for me. + +MRS. CRILLY +What do you want me to do for you? + +MUSKERRY +Give me fifty pounds, so that I can pay them off now. + +MRS. CRILLY +Haven't I told you the way I'm straitened for money? + +MUSKERRY +You have still in the bank what would save my name. + +MRS. CRILLY +Don't be unreasonable. I have to provide for my children. + +MUSKERRY +Your children. Yes, you have to provide for your children. +I provided for them long enough. And now you would take my place, my +honour, and my self-respect, and provide for them over again. +_(He goes out)_ + +MRS. CRILLY +I'll have to put up with this, too. + + _Anna re-enters._ + +ANNA +Where has he gone, mother? + +MRS. CRILLY +He has gone down to the Workhouse. + +ANNA +What is he going to do, mother? + +MRS. CRILLY +He says he will ask the Guardians to provide for him. + +ANNA +It's not likely they'll do that for a man with a pension of +fifty pounds a year. + +MRS. CRILLY +I don't know what will happen to us. + +ANNA +He'll come back, mother. + +MRS. CRILLY +He will. But everything will have been made public, and +the money will have to be paid. + +ANNA +_(at the window)_ There he is going down the street, mother. + +MRS. CRILLY +Which way? + +ANNA +Towards the Workhouse. And here's the doctor's daughter coming +into the shop again, mother. + +MRS. CRILLY +I'll go out and see her myself. _(As she goes out she +hands Anna a cheque)_ That's the last cheque I'll be able to make out. +There's your eighty pounds, Anna. _(She goes into the shop)_ + +ANNA +We can begin to get the furniture now. + + _She sits down at the table and makes some calculation with a pencil_. + +CURTAIN + + + +ACT THIRD + + + _The infirm ward in the Workhouse. Entrance from corridor, right. + Forward, left, are three beds with bedding folded upon them. Back, + left, is a door leading into Select Ward. This door is closed, and a + large key is in lock. Fireplace with a grating around it, left. Back, + right, is a window with little leaded panes_. + + _It is noon on a May day, but the light inside the ward is feeble._ + + _Two paupers are seated at fire. One of them, Mickie Cripes, is a + man of fifty, stooped and hollow-chested, but with quick blue eyes. + The other man, Tom Shanley, is not old, but he looks broken and + listless. Myles Gorman, still in pauper dress, is standing before + window, an expectant look on his face_. + + _Thomas Muskerry enters from corridor. He wears his own clothes, + but he has let them get into disorder. His hair and beard are + disordered, and he seems very much broken down. Nevertheless, he + looks as if his mind were composed_. + +MUSKERRY +It's dark in here, Michael. + +GRIPES +It is, sir. + +MUSKERRY +I find it very spiritless after coming up from the chapel. +Don't pass your whole day here. Go down into the yard. _(He stands +before the window)_ This is the first fine day, and you ought to go +out along the country road. Ask the Master for leave. It's the month +of May, and you'll be glad of the sight of the grass and the smell +of the bushes. Now here's a remarkable thing. I venture to think +that the like of this has never happened before. Here are the bees +swarming at the window pane. + +GORMAN +You'll hear my pipes on the road to-day. That's as sure as +the right hand is on my body. _(He goes out by corridor door)_ + +CRIPES +Myles Gorman must have been glad to hear that buzzing. + +MUSKERRY +Why was Myles glad to hear it? + +SHANLEY +He was leaving on the first fine day. + +CRIPES +The buzzing at the pane would let any one know that the air +is nice for a journey. + +MUSKERRY +I am leaving to-day, myself. + +CRIPES +And where are you going, Mr. Muskerry? + +MUSKERRY +I'm going to a place of my own. + + _Muskerry goes into the Select Ward_. + +CRIPES +I'll tell you what brought Thomas Muskerry back to the +workhouse to be an inmate in it. Living in a bad house. Living with +his own. That's what brought him back. And that's what left me here, +too. + +SHANLEY +_(listlessly)_ The others have the flour, and we may hawk +the bran. + + _An old pauper comes into the ward. His face looks bleached. He has + the handle of a sweeping-brush for a staff. He moves about the ward, + muttering to himself. He seats himself on chair, right_. + +THE OLD MAN +_(speaking as if thinking aloud)_ I was at twelve +o'clock Mass. Now one o'clock would be a late Mass. I was at Mass at +one o'clock. Wouldn't that be a long time to keep a priest, and he +fasting the whole time? + +CRIPES +I'll tell you what Thomas Muskerry did when he left the bad +house he was in. _(He puts coal on the fire)_ + +THE OLD MAN +I was at one o'clock Mass in Skibbereen. I know where +Skibbereen is well. In the County Cork. Cork is a big county. As big +as Dublin and Wicklow. That's where the people died when there was +the hunger. + +CRIPES +He came before the meeting of the Guardians, and he told them +he owed them the whole of his year's pension. Then he got some sort +of a stroke, and he broke down. And the Guardians gave him the Select +Ward there for himself. + +SHANLEY +They did well for him. + +CRIPES +Why wouldn't they give him the Select Ward? It's right that +he'd get the little room, and not have to make down the pauper's bed +with the rest of us. + +SHANLEY +He was at the altar to-day, and he stayed in the chapel +after Mass. + +CRIPES +He'll be here shortly. + +THE OLD MAN +Skibbereen! That's where the people died when there was +the hunger. Men and women without coffins, or even their clothes off. +Just buried. Skibbereen I remember well, for I was a whole man then. +And the village. For there are people living in it yet. They didn't +all die. + +SHANLEY +We'll have somebody else in the Select Ward this evening. + +CRIPES +That's what they were talking about. The nuns are sending a +patient up here. + +SHANLEY +I suppose the Ward-master will be in here to regulate the +room. _(He rises)_ + +CRIPES +Aye, the Ward-master. Felix Tournour, the Ward-master. You've +come to your own place at last, Felix Tournour. + +SHANLEY +Felix Tournour will be coming the master over me if he finds +me here. _(Shanley goes out)_ + +CRIPES +Felix Tournour! That's the lad that will be coming in with +his head up like the gander that's after beating down a child. + + _Christy Clarice enters. He carries a little portmanteau_. + +CHRISTY +Is Mr. Muskerry here? + +CRIPES +He's in the room. _(A sound of water splashing and the +movements of a heavy person are heard)_ Will you be speaking with him, +young fellow? + +CHRISTY +I will. + +CRIPES +Tell him, like a good little boy, that the oul' men would be +under a favour to him if he left a bit of tobacco. You won't forget +that? + +CHRISTY +I won't forget it. + +CRIPES +I don't want to be in the way of Felix Tournour. We're going +down to the yard, but we'll see Mr. Muskerry when he's going away. + + _Cripes goes out_. + +MUSKERRY +_(within)_ Is that you, Christy Clarke? + +CHRISTY +It is, Mr. Muskerry. + +MUSKERRY +Have you any news, Christy? + +CHRISTY +No news, except that my mother is in the cottage, and is +expecting you to-day. + +MUSKERRY +I'll be in the cottage to-day, Christy. I'm cleaning myself. +_(A sound of splashing and moving about)_ The Guardians were good to +get the little house for me. I'd as lieve be there as in a mansion. +There's about half an acre of land to the place, and I'll do work on +the ground from time to time, for it's a good thing for a man to get +the smell of the clay. + +CHRISTY +And how are you in health, Mr. Muskerry? + +MUSKERRY +I'm very well in health. I was anointed, you know, and +after that I mended miraculously. + +CHRISTY +And what about the pension? + +MUSKERRY +I'm getting three hundred pounds. They asked me to realize +the pension. I hope I have life enough before me. _(He comes out. He +has on trousers, coat, and starched shirt. The shirt is soiled and +crushed)_ + +MUSKERRY +On Saturdays I'll do my marketing. I'll come into the town, +and I'll buy the bit of meat for my dinner on Sunday. But what are +you doing with this portmanteau, Christy? + +CHRISTY +I'm going away myself. + +MUSKERRY +To a situation, is it? + +CHRISTY +To a situation in Dublin. + +MUSKERRY +I wish you luck, Christy. _(He shakes hands with the boy, +and sits down on a chair)_ I was dreaming on new things all last +night. New shirts, new sheets, everything new. + +CHRISTY +I want to be something. + +MUSKERRY +What do you want to be? + +CHRISTY +A writer. + +MUSKERRY +A writer of books, is it? + +CHRISTY +Yes, a writer of books. + +MUSKERRY +Listen, now, and tell me do you hear anything. That's the +sound of bees swarming at the window. That's a good augury for you, +Christy. + +CHRISTY +All life's before me. + +MUSKERRY +Will you give heed to what I tell you? + +CHRISTY +I'll give heed to it, Mr. Muskerry. + +MUSKERRY +Live a good life. + +CHRISTY +I give heed to you. + +MUSKERRY +Your mother had great hardship in rearing you. + +CHRISTY +I know that, Mr. Muskerry, but now I'm able for the world. + +MUSKERRY +I wish success to all your efforts. Be very careful of your +personal appearance. + +CHRISTY +I will, Mr. Muskerry. + +MUSKERRY +Get yourself a new cravat before you leave the town. + +CHRISTY +I'll get it. + +MUSKERRY +I think I'd look better myself if I had a fresher shirt. + +CHRISTY +I saw clean shirts of yours before the fire last night in my +mother's house. + +MUSKERRY +I wish I could get one before I leave this place. + +CHRISTY +Will I run off and get one for you? + +MUSKERRY +Would you, Christy? Would it be too much trouble? + + _Muskerry rises_. + +CHRISTY +I'll go now. + +MUSKERRY +You're a very willing boy, Christy, and you're sure to get +on. _(He goes to a little broken mirror on the wall)_ I am white and +loose of flesh, and that's not a good sign with me, Christy. I'll +tell you something. If I were staying here to-night, it's the +pauper's bed I'd have to sleep on. + + _Mrs. Crilly comes to the door_. + +MRS. CRILLY +Well, I see you're making ready for your departure. + +MUSKERRY +_(who has become uneasy)_ I am ready for my departure. + +MRS. CRILLY +And this young man has come for you, I suppose? + +MUSKERRY +This young man is minding his own business. + +CHRISTY +I'm going out now to get a shirt for the Master. + +MRS. CRILLY +A starched shirt, I suppose, Christy. Go down to our +house, and tell Mary to give you one of the shirts that are folded up. + +MUSKERRY +The boy will go where he was bid go. + +MRS. CRILLY +Oh, very well. Run, Christy, and do the message for the +Master. + + _Christy Clarke goes out_. + +MUSKERRY +I don't know what brought you here to-day. + +MRS. CRILLY +Well, I wanted to see you. + +MUSKERRY +You could come to see me when I was settled down. + +MRS. +CRILLY Settled in the cottage the Guardians have given you? + +MUSKERRY +Yes, ma'am. + +MRS. CRILLY +_(with nervous excitement, restrained)_ No one of us +will ever go near the place. + +MUSKERRY +Well, you'll please yourself. + +MRS. CRILLY +You put a slight on us all when you go there to live. + +MUSKERRY +Well, I've lived with you to my own loss. + +MRS. CRILLY +Our house is the best house in the town, and I'm the +nearest person to you. + +MUSKERRY +Say nothing more about that. + +MRS. CRILLY +Well, maybe you do right not to live with us, but you +ought not to forsake us altogether. + +MUSKERRY +And what do you mean by forsaking you altogether? + +MRS. CRILLY +When you leave the place and do not even turn your step +in our direction it's a sign to all who want to know that you +forsake us altogether. + +MUSKERRY +What do you want me to do? + +MRS. CRILLY +Come up to Cross Street with me, have dinner and spend +the night with us. People would have less to talk about if you did +that. + +MUSKERRY +You always have a scheme. + +MRS. CRILLY +Come to us for this evening itself. + +MUSKERRY +I wish you wouldn't trouble me, woman. Can't you see that +when I go out of this I want to go to my own place? + +MRS. CRILLY +You can go there to-morrow. + +MUSKERRY +Preparations are made for me. + +MRS. CRILLY +You don't know what preparations. + +MUSKERRY +Two pounds of the best beef-steak were ordered to be sent +up to-day. + +MRS. CRILLY +I wouldn't trust that woman, Mrs. Clarke, to cook +potatoes. + +MUSKERRY +Well, I'll trust her, ma'am. + +MRS. CRILLY +_(taking Muskerry's sleeve)_ Don't go to-day, anyway. + +MUSKERRY +You're very anxious to get me to come with you. What do you +want from me? + +MRS. CRILLY +We want nothing from you. You know how insecure our +business is. When it's known in the town that you forsake us, +everybody will close in on us. + +MUSKERRY +God knows I did everything that a man could do for you and +yours. I won't forget you. I haven't much life left to me, and I +want to live to myself. + +MRS. CRILLY +I know. Sure I lie awake at night, too tired to sleep, +and long to get away from the things that are pressing in on me. I +know that people are glad of their own way, and glad to live in the +way that they like. When I heard the birds stirring I cried to be +away in some place where I won't hear the thing that's always +knocking at my head. The business has to be minded, and it's +slipping away from us like water. And listen, if my confinement +comes on me and I worried as I was last year, nothing can save me. +I'll die, surely. + +MUSKERRY +_(moved)_ What more do you want me to do? + +MRS. CRILLY +Stay with us for a while, so that we'll have the name of +your support. + +MUSKERRY +I'll come back to you in a week. + +MRS. CRILLY +That wouldn't do at all. There's a reason for what I ask. +The town must know that you are with us from the time you leave this. + +MUSKERRY +_(with emotion)_ God help me with you all, and God direct +me what to do. + +MRS. CRILLY +It's not in you to let us down. + + _Muskerry turns away. His head is bent. Mrs. Crilly goes to him_. + +MUSKERRY +Will you never be done taking from me? I want to leave this +and go to a place of my own. + + _Muskerry puts his hand to his eyes. When he lowers his hand again + Mrs. Crilly lays hers in it. Christy Clarke comes in. Muskerry turns + to him. Muskerry has been crying_. + +MUSKERRY +Well, Christy, I'll be sending you back on another message. + + _Mrs. Crilly makes a sign to Christy not to speak_. + +MUSKERRY +Go to your mother and tell her--- + +CHRISTY +I met my mother outside. + +MUSKERRY +Did she get the things that were sent to her? + +CHRISTY +My mother was sent away from the cottage. + +MUSKERRY +Who sent your mother away from the cottage? + +CHRISTY +Mrs. Crilly sent her away. + +MUSKERRY +And why did you do that, ma'am? + +MRS. CRILLY +I sent Mary to help to prepare the place for you, and +the woman was impertinent to Mary-- + +MUSKERRY +Well, ma'am? + +MRS. CRILLY +I sent the woman away. + +MUSKERRY +And so you take it on yourself to dispose of the servants +in my house? + +MRS. CRILLY +I daresay you'll take the woman's part against my +daughter. + +MUSKERRY +No, ma'am, I'll take no one's side, but I'll tell you this. +I want my own life, and I won't be interfered with. + +MRS. CRILLY +I'm sorry for what occurred, and I'll apologise to the +boy's mother if you like. + +MUSKERRY +I won't be interfered with, I tell you. From this day out +I'm free of my own life. And now, Christy Clarke, go down stairs and +tell the Master, Mr. Scollard, that I want to see him. + + _Christy Clarice goes out_. + +MRS. CRILLY +I may as well tell you something else. None of the +things you ordered were sent up to the cottage. + +MUSKERRY +Do you tell me that? + +MRS. CRILLY +I went round to the shop, and everything you ordered was +sent to us. + +MUSKERRY +And what is the meaning of that, ma'am? + +MRS. CRILLY +If the town knew you were going from us, in a week we +would have to put up the shutters. + +MUSKERRY +Well, I'll walk out of this, and when I come to the road +I'll go my own way. + +MRS. CRILLY +We can't prevent you. + +MUSKERRY +No, ma'am, you can't prevent me. + +MRS. CRILLY +You've got your discharge, I suppose? + +MUSKERRY +I've given three hours' notice, and I'll get my discharge +now. + +MRS. CRILLY +_(at corridor door)_ We can't prevent you going if you +have the doctor's discharge. + +MUSKERRY +The doctor's discharge! He would have given it to me-- + +MRS. CRILLY +You can't leave without the doctor's sanction. + +MUSKERRY +Out of this house I will go to-day. + + _James Scollard enters_. + +SCOLLARD +I believe you want to see me, Mr. Muskerry. + +MUSKERRY +I do, Mr. Scollard. I am leaving the house. + +SCOLLARD +I will be glad to take up the necessary formalities for you, +Mr. Muskerry. + +MRS. CRILLY +First of all, has the doctor marked my father off the +infirmary list? + +SCOLLARD +No, Mrs. Crilly. Now that I recall the list, he has not. + +MUSKERRY +I waited after Mass to-day, and I missed seeing him. + +MRS. CRILLY +My father was seriously ill only a short time ago, and I +do not believe he is in a fit state to leave the infirmary. + +SCOLLARD +That certainly has to be considered. Without the doctor +explicitly sending you down to the body of the house you are hardly +under my jurisdiction, Mr. Muskerry. + +MUSKERRY +Mr. Scollard, I ask you to give me leave to go out of the +Workhouse for a day. You can do this on your own responsibility. + +MRS. CRILLY +In the present state of his mind it's not likely he +would return to-night. Then if anything happened him your situation +is at stake. + +MUSKERRY +I'm not a pauper. I'll go out of this to-day without leave +or license from any of you. + +SCOLLARD +As you know yourself, Mr. Muskerry, it would be as much as +my situation is worth to let you depart in that way. + +MUSKERRY +Well, go I will. + +SCOLLARD +I cannot permit it, Mr. Muskerry. I say it with the +greatest respect. + +MUSKERRY +How long will you keep me here? + +SCOLLARD +Until the doctor visits the house. + +MUSKERRY +That will be on Monday morning. + +SCOLLARD +And this is Saturday, Mr. Muskerry. + +MUSKERRY +And where will you put me until Monday? + +SCOLLARD +Other arrangements will be made for you. + +MUSKERRY +It's the pauper's bed you would give me! + +SCOLLARD +The old arrangements will continue. Can I do anything +further for you, Mr. Muskerry? + +MUSKERRY +No, you can do nothing further for me. It's a great deal +you have done for me! It's the pauper's bed you have given me! +_(He goes into the Select Ward)_ + +MRS. CRILLY +Sit down, Mr. Scollard. I want to speak to you. + + _Mrs. Crilly seats herself at the table. Scollard sits down also._ + +MRS. CRILLY +The bank manager is in the town to-day, and there are +people waiting to tell him whether my father goes to our house or +goes away from us. + +SCOLLARD No doubt there are, Mrs. Crilly. + +MRS. CRILLY +But you have nothing to do with that, Mr. Scollard. + +SCOLLARD +No, Mrs. Crilly. + +MRS. CRILLY +I have my own battle to fight, and a hard battle it is. +I have to make bits of myself to mind everything and be prepared for +everything. + +SCOLLARD +No doubt, Mrs. Crilly. + +MRS. CRILLY +There are people who will blame me, but they cannot see +into my mind. + +SCOLLARD +Will you come down to the parlour, Mrs. Crilly? + +MRS. CRILLY +Yes, I'll go down. + + _She remains seated, looking out steadily before her. Myles Gorman + comes in. He is dressed in his own clothes_. + +SCOLLARD +Well, Gorman, what brings you back to the ward? + +GORMAN +I just want to do something to my pipes, Master. + +SCOLLARD +Very well, Gorman. You have your discharge, and you are +free to leave. + +GORMAN +Oh, in a while I'll be taking the road. + + _He seats himself at the fire and begins to fix the bag of his pipes_. + +SCOLLARD +Now, Mrs. Crilly, come down to the parlour. + +MRS. CRILLY +Yes. + +SCOLLARD +Anna is waiting to see you. + +MRS. CRILLY +_(rising)_ He will be well cared for here. + +SCOLLARD +He will, Mrs. Crilly. I will give him all attention. + +MRS. CRILLY +He expected to be in a different place to-day, but delay +does little harm. + +SCOLLARD +Come down to the parlour, Mrs. Crilly, and drink a glass of +wine with us. + + _They go out. The door of the Select Ward opens, and Thomas + Muskerry appears. He has got a stroke. His breathing makes a noise + in his mouth. As he moves he lags somewhat at the right knee. He + carries his right hand at his breast. He moves slowly across ward. + Felix Tournour enters, carrying a bunch of keys_. + +TOURNOUR +And where are you going? + +MUSKERRY +_(in a thickened voice)_ Ow--out. _(Motioning with left hand. +He moves across ward, and goes out on door of corridor)_ + +TOURNOUR +Well, you're not getting back to your snuggery, my oul' cod. +_(He goes into the Select Ward and begins to pitch Muskerry's +belongings into the outer ward. First of all come the pillows and +clothes off the bed)_ And there's your holy picture, and there's +your holy book. _(He comes out holding another book in official +binding. He opens it and reads)_ "Marianne, born May the 20th, 1870." +_(He turns back some pages and reads)_ Thomas Muskerry wrote this, +1850-- + + "In the pleasant month of May, + When the lambkins sport and play, + As I roved out for recreation, + I spied a comely maid, + Sequestered in the shade, + And on her beauty I gazed in admiration." + + "I said I greatly fear + That Mercury will draw near, + As once he appeared unto Venus, + Or as it might have been + To the Carthaginian Queen, + Or the Grecian Wight called Polyphemus." + + _Muskerry comes back to the ward. He stands looking stupidly at the + heap Tournour has thrown out. Tournour throws down the book. + Muskerry goes towards the open door of the ward. Felix Tournour + closes the door deliberately turns the key and holds the key in his + hand_. + +TOURNOUR +You have no more to do with your snug little ward, Mr. +Muskerry. _(He puts the key on his bunch and goes out)_ + +MUSKERRY +_(muttering with slack lips and cheeks)_ It's--it's--the +pau--pauper's bed they've given me. + +GORMAN +_(turning round his face)_ Who's there? + +MUSKERRY +It's--it's--Thomas Muskerry. + +GORMAN +Is that the Master? + +MUSKERRY +It's--it's the pauper's bed they've given me. + +GORMAN +Can I give you any hand, Master? + +MUSKERRY +I'll want to make--the bed. Give me a hand to make the bed. +_(Gorman comes over to him)_ My own sheet and blanket is here. I +needn't lie on a pauper's sheet. Whose bed is this? + +GORMAN +It's the middle bed, Master. It's my own bed. + +MUSKERRY +_(helplessly)_ What bed will I take, then? + +GORMAN +My bed. I won't be here. + +MUSKERRY +And where are you going? + +GORMAN +I'm leaving the house this day. I'll be going on the roads. + +MUSKERRY +Myles--Myles Gorman. The man that was without family or +friends. Myles Gorman. Help me to lay down the mattress. Where will +you sleep to-night, Myles Gorman? + +GORMAN +At Mrs. Muirnan's, a house between this and the town of +Ballinagh. I haven't the money to pay, but she'll give me the place +for to-night. Now, Master, I'll spread the sheet for you. _(They +spread the sheet on the bed_.) + +MUSKERRY +Can you go down the stairs, Myles Gorman? I tried to get +down the stairs and my legs failed me. + +GORMAN +One of the men will lead me down. + +MUSKERRY +_(resting his hand on the bed and standing up)_ Sure one of +the men will lead me down the stairs, too. + + _Myles Gorman spreads blanket on bed. He stands up, takes pipes, + and is ready to go out. Muskerry becomes more feeble. He puts + himself on the bed_. + +MUSKERRY +Myles--Myles Gorman--come back. + +GORMAN +What will I do for you, Master? + +MUSKERRY +Say a prayer for me. + +GORMAN +What prayer will I say, Master? + +MUSKERRY +Say "God be good to Thomas Muskerry." + +GORMAN +_(taking off his hat)_ "God be good to Thomas Muskerry, the +man who was good to the poor." Is that all, Master? + +MUSKERRY +That's--that's all. + + _Gorman goes to the door_. + +GORMAN +In a little while you'll hear my pipes on the road. + + _He goes out. There is the sound of heavy breathing from the bed. + Then silence. The old pauper with the staff enters. He is crossing + the ward when his attention is taken by the humming of the bees at + the window pane. He listens for a moment_. + +THE OLD PAUPER +A bright day, and the clay on their faces. That's +what I saw. And we used to be coming from Mass and going to the +coursing match. The hare flying and the dogs stretching after her up +the hill. Fine dogs and fine men. I saw them all. + + _Christy Clarke comes in. He goes to table for his bag. He sees the + figure on the bed, and goes over_. + +CHRISTY +I'm going now, Mister Muskerry. Mister Muskerry! +Mister Muskerry! Oh! the Master is dead. _(He runs back to the door)_ +Mrs. Crilly. Mrs. Crilly. _(He goes back to the bed, and throws +himself on his knees)_ Oh! I'm sorry you're gone, Thomas Muskerry. + +THE OLD PAUPER +And is he gone home, too! And the bees humming and all! +He was the best of them. Each of his brothers could lift up their +plough and carry it to the other side of the field. Four of them +could clear a fair. But their fields were small and poor, and so they +scattered. + + _Mrs. Crilly comes in_. + +MRS. CRILLY +Christy Clarke, what is it? + +CHRISTY +The Master is dead. + +MRS. CRILLY +My God, my God! + +CHRISTY +Will I go and tell them below? + +MRS. CRILLY +No. Bring no one here yet. We killed him. When +everything is known that will be known. + +CHRISTY +I'll never forget him, I think. + +MRS. CRILLY +What humming is that? + +CHRISTY +The bees at the window pane. And there's Myles Gorman's +pipes on the road. + + _The drear call of the pipes is heard_. + +END OF PLAY + + +"Thomas Muskerry" was first produced on May 5th, 1910, by the Abbey +Theater Company, at the Abbey Theater, Dublin, with the following +cast:-- + + +THOMAS MUSKERRY Arthur Sinclair +MRS. CRILLY Cara Allgood +CROFTON CRILLY J.M. Kerrigan +ALBERT CRILLY Eric Gorman +ANNA CRILLY Maire O'Neill +MYLES GORMAN Fred O'Donovan +FELIX TOURNOUR Sydney Morgan +JAMES SCOLLARD J.A. O'Rourke +CHRISTY CLARKE U. Wright +MICKIE GRIPES Fred Rowland +TOM SHANLEY Ambrose Power +AN OLD PAUPER J.M. Kerrigan. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Three Plays, by Padraic Colum + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE PLAYS *** + +***** This file should be named 11878.txt or 11878.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/8/7/11878/ + +Produced by Dirtributed Proofreaders. + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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