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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1618-0.txt b/1618-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..551a767 --- /dev/null +++ b/1618-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1130 @@ + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Shadow of the Glen, by J. M. Synge + +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: In the Shadow of the Glen + +Author: J. M. Synge + +Release Date: November 7, 2008 [Etext #1618] +Last Updated: June 21, 2019 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE SHADOW OF THE GLEN *** + + + + +Produced by Judy Boss, and David Widger + + + +cover + + + +IN THE SHADOW OF THE GLEN + +A PLAY IN ONE ACT + +By J. M. Synge + + First performed at the Molesworth Hall, Dublin, October 8th, 1903. + + +PERSONS + +DAN BURKE (_farmer and herd_) George Roberts NORA BURKE (_his +wife_) Maire Nic Shiubhlaigh MICHEAL DARA (_a young herd_) P. J. +Kelly A TRAMP W. G. Fay + + +SCENE.—_The last cottage at the head of a long glen in County Wicklow._ + +(_Cottage kitchen; turf fire on the right; a bed near it against the +wall with a body lying on it covered with a sheet. A door is at the +other end of the room, with a low table near it, and stools, or wooden +chairs. There are a couple of glasses on the table, and a bottle of +whisky, as if for a wake, with two cups, a teapot, and a home-made +cake. There is another small door near the bed. Nora Burke is moving +about the room, settling a few things, and lighting candles on the +table, looking now and then at the bed with an uneasy look. Some one +knocks softly at the door. She takes up a stocking with money from the +table and puts it in her pocket. Then she opens the door._) + +TRAMP. +(_Outside._) Good evening to you, lady of the house. + +NORA. +Good evening, kindly stranger, it’s a wild night, God help you, to be +out in the rain falling. + +TRAMP. +It is, surely, and I walking to Brittas from the Aughrim fair. + +NORA. +Is it walking on your feet, stranger? + +TRAMP. +On my two feet, lady of the house, and when I saw the light below I +thought maybe if you’d a sup of new milk and a quiet decent corner +where a man could sleep (_he looks in past her and sees the dead man._) +The Lord have mercy on us all! + +NORA. +It doesn’t matter anyway, stranger, come in out of the rain. + +TRAMP. +(_Coming in slowly and going towards the bed._) Is it departed he is? + +NORA. +It is, stranger. He’s after dying on me, God forgive him, and there I +am now with a hundred sheep beyond on the hills, and no turf drawn for +the winter. + +TRAMP. +(_Looking closely at the dead man._) It’s a queer look is on him for a +man that’s dead. + +NORA. +(_Half-humorously._) He was always queer, stranger, and I suppose them +that’s queer and they living men will be queer bodies after. + +TRAMP. +Isn’t it a great wonder you’re letting him lie there, and he is not +tidied, or laid out itself? + +NORA. +(_Coming to the bed._) I was afeard, stranger, for he put a black curse +on me this morning if I’ld touch his body the time he’ld die sudden, or +let any one touch it except his sister only, and it’s ten miles away +she lives in the big glen over the hill. + +TRAMP. +(_Looking at her and nodding slowly._) It’s a queer story he wouldn’t +let his own wife touch him, and he dying quiet in his bed. + +NORA. +He was an old man, and an odd man, stranger, and it’s always up on the +hills he was thinking thoughts in the dark mist. (_She pulls back a bit +of the sheet._) Lay your hand on him now, and tell me if it’s cold he +is surely. + +TRAMP. +Is it getting the curse on me you’ld be, woman of the house? I wouldn’t +lay my hand on him for the Lough Nahanagan and it filled with gold. + +NORA. +(_Looking uneasily at the body._) Maybe cold would be no sign of death +with the like of him, for he was always cold, every day since I knew +him,—and every night, stranger,—(_she covers up his face and comes away +from the bed_); but I’m thinking it’s dead he is surely, for he’s +complaining a while back of a pain in his heart, and this morning, the +time he was going off to Brittas for three days or four, he was taken +with a sharp turn. Then he went into his bed and he was saying it was +destroyed he was, the time the shadow was going up through the glen, +and when the sun set on the bog beyond he made a great lep, and let a +great cry out of him, and stiffened himself out the like of a dead +sheep. + +TRAMP. +(_Crosses himself._) God rest his soul. + +NORA. +(_Pouring him out a glass of whisky._) Maybe that would do you better +than the milk of the sweetest cow in County Wicklow. + +TRAMP. +The Almighty God reward you, and may it be to your good health. (_He +drinks._) + +NORA. +(_Giving him a pipe and tobacco._) I’ve no pipes saving his own, +stranger, but they’re sweet pipes to smoke. + +TRAMP. +Thank you kindly, lady of the house. + +NORA. +Sit down now, stranger, and be taking your rest. + +TRAMP. +(_Filling a pipe and looking about the room._) I’ve walked a great way +through the world, lady of the house, and seen great wonders, but I +never seen a wake till this day with fine spirits, and good tobacco, +and the best of pipes, and no one to taste them but a woman only. + +NORA. +Didn’t you hear me say it was only after dying on me he was when the +sun went down, and how would I go out into the glen and tell the +neighbours, and I a lone woman with no house near me? + +TRAMP. +(_Drinking._) There’s no offence, lady of the house? + +NORA. +No offence in life, stranger. How would the like of you, passing in the +dark night, know the lonesome way I was with no house near me at all? + +TRAMP. +(_Sitting down._) I knew rightly. (_He lights his pipe so that there is +a sharp light beneath his haggard face._) And I was thinking, and I +coming in through the door, that it’s many a lone woman would be afeard +of the like of me in the dark night, in a place wouldn’t be so lonesome +as this place, where there aren’t two living souls would see the little +light you have shining from the glass. + +NORA. +(_Slowly._) I’m thinking many would be afeard, but I never knew what +way I’d be afeard of beggar or bishop or any man of you at all. (_She +looks towards the window and lowers her voice._) It’s other things than +the like of you, stranger, would make a person afeard. + +TRAMP. +(_Looking round with a half-shudder._) It is surely, God help us all! + +NORA. +(_Looking at him for a moment with curiosity._) You’re saying that, +stranger, as if you were easy afeard. + +TRAMP. +(_Speaking mournfully._) Is it myself, lady of the house, that does be +walking round in the long nights, and crossing the hills when the fog +is on them, the time a little stick would seem as big as your arm, and +a rabbit as big as a bay horse, and a stack of turf as big as a +towering church in the city of Dublin? If myself was easily afeard, I’m +telling you, it’s long ago I’ld have been locked into the Richmond +Asylum, or maybe have run up into the back hills with nothing on me but +an old shirt, and been eaten with crows the like of Patch Darcy—the +Lord have mercy on him—in the year that’s gone. + +NORA. +(_With interest._) You knew Darcy? + +TRAMP. +Wasn’t I the last one heard his living voice in the whole world? + +NORA. +There were great stories of what was heard at that time, but would any +one believe the things they do be saying in the glen? + +TRAMP. +It was no lie, lady of the house.... I was passing below on a dark +night the like of this night, and the sheep were lying under the ditch +and every one of them coughing, and choking, like an old man, with the +great rain and the fog. Then I heard a thing talking—queer talk, you +wouldn’t believe at all, and you out of your dreams,—and “Merciful +God,” says I, “if I begin hearing the like of that voice out of the +thick mist, I’m destroyed surely.” Then I run, and I run, and I run, +till I was below in Rathvanna. I got drunk that night, I got drunk in +the morning, and drunk the day after,—I was coming from the races +beyond—and the third day they found Darcy.... Then I knew it was +himself I was after hearing, and I wasn’t afeard any more. + +NORA. +(_Speaking sorrowfully and slowly._) God spare Darcy, he’ld always look +in here and he passing up or passing down, and it’s very lonesome I was +after him a long while (_she looks over at the bed and lowers her +voice, speaking very clearly,_) and then I got happy again—if it’s ever +happy we are, stranger,—for I got used to being lonesome. (_A short +pause; then she stands up._) + +NORA. +Was there any one on the last bit of the road, stranger, and you coming +from Aughrim? + +TRAMP. +There was a young man with a drift of mountain ewes, and he running +after them this way and that. + +NORA. +(_With a half-smile._) Far down, stranger? + +TRAMP. +A piece only. + +(_She fills the kettle and puts it on the fire._) + +NORA. +Maybe, if you’re not easy afeard, you’ld stay here a short while alone +with himself. + +TRAMP. +I would surely. A man that’s dead can do no hurt. + +NORA. +(_Speaking with a sort of constraint._) I’m going a little back to the +west, stranger, for himself would go there one night and another and +whistle at that place, and then the young man you’re after seeing—a +kind of a farmer has come up from the sea to live in a cottage +beyond—would walk round to see if there was a thing we’ld have to be +done, and I’m wanting him this night, the way he can go down into the +glen when the sun goes up and tell the people that himself is dead. + +TRAMP. +(_Looking at the body in the sheet._) It’s myself will go for him, lady +of the house, and let you not be destroying yourself with the great +rain. + +NORA. +You wouldn’t find your way, stranger, for there’s a small path only, +and it running up between two sluigs where an ass and cart would be +drowned. (_She puts a shawl over her head._) Let you be making yourself +easy, and saying a prayer for his soul, and it’s not long I’ll be +coming again. + +TRAMP. +(_Moving uneasily._) Maybe if you’d a piece of a grey thread and a +sharp needle—there’s great safety in a needle, lady of the house—I’ld +be putting a little stitch here and there in my old coat, the time I’ll +be praying for his soul, and it going up naked to the saints of God. + +NORA. +(_Takes a needle and thread from the front of her dress and gives it to +him._) There’s the needle, stranger, and I’m thinking you won’t be +lonesome, and you used to the back hills, for isn’t a dead man itself +more company than to be sitting alone, and hearing the winds crying, +and you not knowing on what thing your mind would stay? + +TRAMP. +(_Slowly._) It’s true, surely, and the Lord have mercy on us all! + +(_Nora goes out. The Tramp begins stitching one of the tags in his +coat, saying the “De Profundis” under his breath. In an instant the +sheet is drawn slowly down, and Dan Burke looks out. The Tramp moves +uneasily, then looks up, and springs to his feet with a movement of +terror._) + +DAN. +(_With a hoarse voice._) Don’t be afeard, stranger; a man that’s dead +can do no hurt. + +TRAMP. +(_Trembling._) I meant no harm, your honour; and won’t you leave me +easy to be saying a little prayer for your soul? + +(_A long whistle is heard outside._) + +DAN. +(_Sitting up in his bed and speaking fiercely._) Ah, the devil mend +her.... Do you hear that, stranger? Did ever you hear another woman +could whistle the like of that with two fingers in her mouth? (_He +looks at the table hurriedly._) I’m destroyed with the drouth, and let +you bring me a drop quickly before herself will come back. + +TRAMP. +(_Doubtfully._) Is it not dead you are? + +DAN. +How would I be dead, and I as dry as a baked bone, stranger? + +TRAMP. +(_Pouring out the whisky._) What will herself say if she smells the +stuff on you, for I’m thinking it’s not for nothing you’re letting on +to be dead? + +DAN. +It is not, stranger, but she won’t be coming near me at all, and it’s +not long now I’ll be letting on, for I’ve a cramp in my back, and my +hip’s asleep on me, and there’s been the devil’s own fly itching my +nose. It’s near dead I was wanting to sneeze, and you blathering about +the rain, and Darcy (_bitterly_)—the devil choke him—and the towering +church. (_Crying out impatiently._) Give me that whisky. Would you have +herself come back before I taste a drop at all? + +(_Tramp gives him the glass._) + +DAN. +(_After drinking._) Go over now to that cupboard, and bring me a black +stick you’ll see in the west corner by the wall. + +TRAMP. +(_Taking a stick from the cupboard_) Is it that? + +DAN. +It is, stranger; it’s a long time I’m keeping that stick for I’ve a bad +wife in the house. + +TRAMP. +(_With a queer look._) Is it herself, master of the house, and she a +grand woman to talk? + +DAN. +It’s herself, surely, it’s a bad wife she is—a bad wife for an old man, +and I’m getting old, God help me, though I’ve an arm to me still. (_He +takes the stick in his hand._) Let you wait now a short while, and it’s +a great sight you’ll see in this room in two hours or three. (_He stops +to listen._) Is that somebody above? + +TRAMP. +(_Listening._) There’s a voice speaking on the path. + +DAN. +Put that stick here in the bed and smooth the sheet the way it was +lying. (_He covers himself up hastily._) Be falling to sleep now and +don’t let on you know anything, or I’ll be having your life. I wouldn’t +have told you at all but it’s destroyed with the drouth I was. + +TRAMP. +(_Covering his head._) Have no fear, master of the house. What is it I +know of the like of you that I’ld be saying a word or putting out my +hand to stay you at all? + +(_He goes back to the fire, sits down on a stool with his back to the +bed and goes on stitching his coat._) + +DAN. +(_Under the sheet, querulously._) Stranger. + +TRAMP. +(_Quickly._) Whisht, whisht. Be quiet I’m telling you, they’re coming +now at the door. + +(_Nora comes in with Micheal Dara, a tall, innocent young man behind +her._) + +NORA. +I wasn’t long at all, stranger, for I met himself on the path. + +TRAMP. +You were middling long, lady of the house. + +NORA. +There was no sign from himself? + +TRAMP. +No sign at all, lady of the house. + +NORA. +(_To Micheal._) Go over now and pull down the sheet, and look on +himself, Micheal Dara, and you’ll see it’s the truth I’m telling you. + +MICHEAL. +I will not, Nora, I do be afeard of the dead. + +(_He sits down on a stool next the table facing the tramp. Nora puts +the kettle on a lower hook of the pot hooks, and piles turf under it._) + +NORA. +(_Turning to Tramp._) Will you drink a sup of tea with myself and the +young man, stranger, or (_speaking more persuasively_) will you go into +the little room and stretch yourself a short while on the bed, I’m +thinking it’s destroyed you are walking the length of that way in the +great rain. + +TRAMP. +Is it to go away and leave you, and you having a wake, lady of the +house? I will not surely. (_He takes a drink from his glass which he +has beside him._) And it’s none of your tea I’m asking either. + +(_He goes on stitching. Nora makes the tea._) + +MICHEAL. +(_After looking at the tramp rather scornfully for a moment._) That’s a +poor coat you have, God help you, and I’m thinking it’s a poor tailor +you are with it. + +TRAMP. +If it’s a poor tailor I am, I’m thinking it’s a poor herd does be +running back and forward after a little handful of ewes the way I seen +yourself running this day, young fellow, and you coming from the fair. + +(_Nora comes back to the table._) + +NORA. +(_To Micheal in a low voice._) Let you not mind him at all, Micheal +Dara, he has a drop taken and it’s soon he’ll be falling asleep. + +MICHEAL. +It’s no lie he’s telling, I was destroyed surely. They were that wilful +they were running off into one man’s bit of oats, and another man’s bit +of hay, and tumbling into the red bogs till it’s more like a pack of +old goats than sheep they were. Mountain ewes is a queer breed, Nora +Burke, and I’m not used to them at all. + +NORA. +(_Settling the tea things._) There’s no one can drive a mountain ewe +but the men do be reared in the Glen Malure, I’ve heard them say, and +above by Rathvanna, and the Glen Imaal, men the like of Patch Darcy, +God spare his soul, who would walk through five hundred sheep and miss +one of them, and he not reckoning them at all. + +MICHEAL. +(_Uneasily._) Is it the man went queer in his head the year that’s +gone? + +NORA. +It is surely. + +TRAMP. +(_Plaintively._) That was a great man, young fellow, a great man I’m +telling you. There was never a lamb from his own ewes he wouldn’t know +before it was marked, and he’ld run from this to the city of Dublin and +never catch for his breath. + +NORA. +(_Turning round quickly._) He was a great man surely, stranger, and +isn’t it a grand thing when you hear a living man saying a good word of +a dead man, and he mad dying? + +TRAMP. +It’s the truth I’m saying, God spare his soul. + +(_He puts the needle under the collar of his coat, and settles himself +to sleep in the chimney-corner. Nora sits down at the table; their +backs are turned to the bed._) + +MICHEAL. +(_Looking at her with a queer look._) I heard tell this day, Nora +Burke, that it was on the path below Patch Darcy would be passing up +and passing down, and I heard them say he’ld never past it night or +morning without speaking with yourself. + +NORA. +(_In a low voice._) It was no lie you heard, Micheal Dara. + +MICHEAL. +I’m thinking it’s a power of men you’re after knowing if it’s in a +lonesome place you live itself. + +NORA. +(_Giving him his tea._) It’s in a lonesome place you do have to be +talking with some one, and looking for some one, in the evening of the +day, and if it’s a power of men I’m after knowing they were fine men, +for I was a hard child to please, and a hard girl to please (_she looks +at him a little sternly_), and it’s a hard woman I am to please this +day, Micheal Dara, and it’s no lie I’m telling you. + +MICHEAL. +(_Looking over to see that the tramp is asleep, and then pointing to +the dead man._) Was it a hard woman to please you were when you took +himself for your man? + +NORA. +What way would I live and I an old woman if I didn’t marry a man with a +bit of a farm, and cows on it, and sheep on the back hills? + +MICHEAL. +(_Considering._) That’s true, Nora, and maybe it’s no fool you were, +for there’s good grazing on it, if it is a lonesome place, and I’m +thinking it’s a good sum he’s left behind. + +NORA. +(_Taking the stocking with money from her pocket, and putting it on the +table._) I do be thinking in the long nights it was a big fool I was +that time, Micheal Dara, for what good is a bit of a farm with cows on +it, and sheep on the back hills, when you do be sitting looking out +from a door the like of that door, and seeing nothing but the mists +rolling down the bog, and the mists again, and they rolling up the bog, +and hearing nothing but the wind crying out in the bits of broken trees +were left from the great storm, and the streams roaring with the rain. + +MICHEAL. +(_Looking at her uneasily._) What is it ails you, this night, Nora +Burke? I’ve heard tell it’s the like of that talk you do hear from men, +and they after being a great while on the back hills. + +NORA. +(_Putting out the money on the table._) It’s a bad night, and a wild +night, Micheal Dara, and isn’t it a great while I am at the foot of the +back hills, sitting up here boiling food for himself, and food for the +brood sow, and baking a cake when the night falls? (_She puts up the +money, listlessly, in little piles on the table._) Isn’t it a long +while I am sitting here in the winter and the summer, and the fine +spring, with the young growing behind me and the old passing, saying to +myself one time, to look on Mary Brien who wasn’t that height (_holding +out her hand_), and I a fine girl growing up, and there she is now with +two children, and another coming on her in three months or four. (_She +pauses._) + +MICHEAL. +(_Moving over three of the piles._) That’s three pounds we have now, +Nora Burke. + +NORA. +(_Continuing in the same voice._) And saying to myself another time, to +look on Peggy Cavanagh, who had the lightest hand at milking a cow that +wouldn’t be easy, or turning a cake, and there she is now walking round +on the roads, or sitting in a dirty old house, with no teeth in her +mouth, and no sense and no more hair than you’ld see on a bit of a hill +and they after burning the furze from it. + +MICHEAL. +That’s five pounds and ten notes, a good sum, surely!... It’s not that +way you’ll be talking when you marry a young man, Nora Burke, and they +were saying in the fair my lambs were the best lambs, and I got a grand +price, for I’m no fool now at making a bargain when my lambs are good. + +NORA. +What was it you got? + +MICHEAL. +Twenty pound for the lot, Nora Burke.... We’ld do right to wait now +till himself will be quiet awhile in the Seven Churches, and then +you’ll marry me in the chapel of Rathvanna, and I’ll bring the sheep up +on the bit of a hill you have on the back mountain, and we won’t have +anything we’ld be afeard to let our minds on when the mist is down. + +NORA. +(_Pouring him out some whisky._) Why would I marry you, Mike Dara? +You’ll be getting old and I’ll be getting old, and in a little while +I’m telling you, you’ll be sitting up in your bed—the way himself was +sitting—with a shake in your face, and your teeth falling, and the +white hair sticking out round you like an old bush where sheep do be +leaping a gap. + +(_Dan Burke sits up noiselessly from under the sheet, with his hand to +his face. His white hair is sticking out round his head._) + +NORA. +(_Goes on slowly without hearing him._) It’s a pitiful thing to be +getting old, but it’s a queer thing surely. It’s a queer thing to see +an old man sitting up there in his bed with no teeth in him, and a +rough word in his mouth, and his chin the way it would take the bark +from the edge of an oak board you’ld have building a door.... God +forgive me, Micheal Dara, we’ll all be getting old, but it’s a queer +thing surely. + +MICHEAL. +It’s too lonesome you are from living a long time with an old man, +Nora, and you’re talking again like a herd that would be coming down +from the thick mist (_he puts his arm round her_), but it’s a fine life +you’ll have now with a young man, a fine life surely.... + +(_Dan sneezes violently. Micheal tries to get to the door, but before +he can do so, Dan jumps out of the bed in queer white clothes, with his +stick in his hand, and goes over and puts his back against it._) + +MICHEAL. +Son of God deliver us. + +(_Crosses himself, and goes backward across the room._) + +DAN. +(_Holding up his hand at him._) Now you’ll not marry her the time I’m +rotting below in the Seven Churches, and you’ll see the thing I’ll give +you will follow you on the back mountains when the wind is high. + +MICHEAL. +(_To Nora._) Get me out of it, Nora, for the love of God. He always did +what you bid him, and I’m thinking he would do it now. + +NORA. +(_Looking at the Tramp._) Is it dead he is or living? + +DAN. +(_Turning towards her._) It’s little you care if it’s dead or living I +am, but there’ll be an end now of your fine times, and all the talk you +have of young men and old men, and of the mist coming up or going down. +(_He opens the door._) You’ll walk out now from that door, Nora Burke, +and it’s not to-morrow, or the next day, or any day of your life, that +you’ll put in your foot through it again. + +TRAMP. +(_Standing up._) It’s a hard thing you’re saying for an old man, master +of the house, and what would the like of her do if you put her out on +the roads? + +DAN. +Let her walk round the like of Peggy Cavanagh below, and be begging +money at the cross-road, or selling songs to the men. (_To Nora._) Walk +out now, Nora Burke, and it’s soon you’ll be getting old with that +life, I’m telling you; it’s soon your teeth’ll be falling and your +head’ll be the like of a bush where sheep do be leaping a gap. + +(_He pauses: she looks round at Micheal._) + +MICHEAL. +(_Timidly._) There’s a fine Union below in Rathdrum. + +DAN. +The like of her would never go there.... It’s lonesome roads she’ll be +going and hiding herself away till the end will come, and they find her +stretched like a dead sheep with the frost on her, or the big spiders, +maybe, and they putting their webs on her, in the butt of a ditch. + +NORA. +(_Angrily._) What way will yourself be that day, Daniel Burke? What way +will you be that day and you lying down a long while in your grave? For +it’s bad you are living, and it’s bad you’ll be when you’re dead. (_She +looks at him a moment fiercely, then half turns away and speaks +plaintively again._) Yet, if it is itself, Daniel Burke, who can help +it at all, and let you be getting up into your bed, and not be taking +your death with the wind blowing on you, and the rain with it, and you +half in your skin. + +DAN. +It’s proud and happy you’ld be if I was getting my death the day I was +shut of yourself. (_Pointing to the door._) Let you walk out through +that door, I’m telling you, and let you not be passing this way if it’s +hungry you are, or wanting a bed. + +TRAMP. +(_Pointing to Micheal._) Maybe himself would take her. + +NORA. +What would he do with me now? + +TRAMP. +Give you the half of a dry bed, and good food in your mouth. + +DAN. +Is it a fool you think him, stranger, or is it a fool you were born +yourself? Let her walk out of that door, and let you go along with her, +stranger—if it’s raining itself—for it’s too much talk you have surely. + +TRAMP. +(_Going over to Nora._) We’ll be going now, lady of the house—the rain +is falling, but the air is kind and maybe it’ll be a grand morning by +the grace of God. + +NORA. +What good is a grand morning when I’m destroyed surely, and I going out +to get my death walking the roads? + +TRAMP. +You’ll not be getting your death with myself, lady of the house, and I +knowing all the ways a man can put food in his mouth.... We’ll be going +now, I’m telling you, and the time you’ll be feeling the cold, and the +frost, and the great rain, and the sun again, and the south wind +blowing in the glens, you’ll not be sitting up on a wet ditch, the way +you’re after sitting in the place, making yourself old with looking on +each day, and it passing you by. You’ll be saying one time, “It’s a +grand evening, by the grace of God,” and another time, “It’s a wild +night, God help us, but it’ll pass surely.” You’ll be saying— + +DAN. +(_Goes over to them crying out impatiently._) Go out of that door, I’m +telling you, and do your blathering below in the glen. + +(_Nora gathers a few things into her shawl._) + +TRAMP. +(_At the door._) Come along with me now, lady of the house, and it’s +not my blather you’ll be hearing only, but you’ll be hearing the herons +crying out over the black lakes, and you’ll be hearing the grouse and +the owls with them, and the larks and the big thrushes when the days +are warm, and it’s not from the like of them you’ll be hearing a talk +of getting old like Peggy Cavanagh, and losing the hair off you, and +the light of your eyes, but it’s fine songs you’ll be hearing when the +sun goes up, and there’ll be no old fellow wheezing, the like of a sick +sheep, close to your ear. + +NORA. +I’m thinking it’s myself will be wheezing that time with lying down +under the Heavens when the night is cold; but you’ve a fine bit of +talk, stranger, and it’s with yourself I’ll go. (_She goes towards the +door, then turns to Dan._) You think it’s a grand thing you’re after +doing with your letting on to be dead, but what is it at all? What way +would a woman live in a lonesome place the like of this place, and she +not making a talk with the men passing? And what way will yourself live +from this day, with none to care for you? What is it you’ll have now +but a black life, Daniel Burke, and it’s not long I’m telling you, till +you’ll be lying again under that sheet, and you dead surely. + +(_She goes out with the Tramp. Micheal is slinking after them, but Dan +stops him._) + +DAN. +Sit down now and take a little taste of the stuff, Micheal Dara. +There’s a great drouth on me, and the night is young. + +MICHEAL. +(_Coming back to the table._) And it’s very dry I am, surely, with the +fear of death you put on me, and I after driving mountain ewes since +the turn of the day. + +DAN. +(_Throwing away his stick._) I was thinking to strike you, Micheal +Dara, but you’re a quiet man, God help you, and I don’t mind you at +all. + +(_He pours out two glasses of whisky, and gives one to Micheal._) + +DAN. +Your good health, Micheal Dara. + +MICHEAL. +God reward you, Daniel Burke, and may you have a long life, and a quiet +life, and good health with it. (_They drink._) + +CURTAIN. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Shadow of the Glen, by J. M. 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M. Synge </title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + +body {background:#faebd0; + margin-right: 20%; + margin-left: 20%; + text-align: justify} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; +line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 200%;} +h2 {font-size: 175%;} +h3 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%; margin-top: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 0%; + margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0em;} + +p.right {text-align: right;} + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Shadow of the Glen, by J. M. Synge + +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: In the Shadow of the Glen + +Author: J. M. Synge + +Release Date: November 7, 2008 [Etext #1618] +Last Updated: June 21, 2019 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE SHADOW OF THE GLEN *** + + + + +Produced by Judy Boss, and David Widger + + + + +</pre> + +<div class="fig" style="width:70%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="cover" /><br /><br /> +</div> + + + +<h1>IN THE SHADOW OF THE GLEN</h1> + +<h3>A PLAY IN ONE ACT</h3> + +<h2>By J. M. Synge</h2> + +<h3> First performed at the Molesworth Hall, Dublin, October 8th, 1903. </h3> + +<hr /> + +<h3>PERSONS</h3> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + +<tr> +<td>DAN BURKE (<i>farmer and herd</i>)</td> +<td>George Roberts</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>NORA BURKE (<i>his wife</i>)</td> +<td>Maire Nic Shiubhlaigh</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>MICHEAL DARA (<i>a young herd</i>)</td> +<td>P. J. Kelly</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>A TRAMP</td> +<td>W. G. Fay</td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<hr /> + +<p> +SCENE.—<i>The last cottage at the head of a long glen in County Wicklow.</i> +</p> + +<p> +(<i>Cottage kitchen; turf fire on the right; a bed near it against the wall with a +body lying on it covered with a sheet. A door is at the other end of the room, +with a low table near it, and stools, or wooden chairs. There are a couple of +glasses on the table, and a bottle of whisky, as if for a wake, with two cups, +a teapot, and a home-made cake. There is another small door near the bed. Nora +Burke is moving about the room, settling a few things, and lighting candles on +the table, looking now and then at the bed with an uneasy look. Some one knocks +softly at the door. She takes up a stocking with money from the table and puts +it in her pocket. Then she opens the door.</i>) +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Outside.</i>) Good evening to you, lady of the house. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +Good evening, kindly stranger, it’s a wild night, God help you, to be out +in the rain falling. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +It is, surely, and I walking to Brittas from the Aughrim fair. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +Is it walking on your feet, stranger? +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +On my two feet, lady of the house, and when I saw the light below I +thought maybe if you’d a sup of new milk and a quiet decent corner where +a man could sleep (<i>he looks in past her and sees the dead man.</i>) The Lord have +mercy on us all! +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +It doesn’t matter anyway, stranger, come in out of the rain. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Coming in slowly and going towards the bed.</i>) Is it departed he is? +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +It is, stranger. He’s after dying on me, God forgive him, and there +I am now with a hundred sheep beyond on the hills, and no turf drawn for the +winter. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Looking closely at the dead man.</i>) It’s a queer look is on him for +a man that’s dead. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>Half-humorously.</i>) He was always queer, stranger, and I suppose them +that’s queer and they living men will be queer bodies after. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +Isn’t it a great wonder you’re letting him lie there, and he +is not tidied, or laid out itself? +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>Coming to the bed.</i>) I was afeard, stranger, for he put a black curse on +me this morning if I’ld touch his body the time he’ld die sudden, +or let any one touch it except his sister only, and it’s ten miles away +she lives in the big glen over the hill. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Looking at her and nodding slowly.</i>) It’s a queer story he +wouldn’t let his own wife touch him, and he dying quiet in his bed. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +He was an old man, and an odd man, stranger, and it’s always up on +the hills he was thinking thoughts in the dark mist. (<i>She pulls back a bit of +the sheet.</i>) Lay your hand on him now, and tell me if it’s cold he is +surely. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +Is it getting the curse on me you’ld be, woman of the house? I +wouldn’t lay my hand on him for the Lough Nahanagan and it filled with +gold. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>Looking uneasily at the body.</i>) Maybe cold would be no sign of death with +the like of him, for he was always cold, every day since I knew him,—and +every night, stranger,—(<i>she covers up his face and comes away from the +bed</i>); but I’m thinking it’s dead he is surely, for he’s +complaining a while back of a pain in his heart, and this morning, the time he +was going off to Brittas for three days or four, he was taken with a sharp +turn. Then he went into his bed and he was saying it was destroyed he was, the +time the shadow was going up through the glen, and when the sun set on the bog +beyond he made a great lep, and let a great cry out of him, and stiffened +himself out the like of a dead sheep. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Crosses himself.</i>) God rest his soul. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>Pouring him out a glass of whisky.</i>) Maybe that would do you better than +the milk of the sweetest cow in County Wicklow. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +The Almighty God reward you, and may it be to your good health. (<i>He drinks.</i>) +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>Giving him a pipe and tobacco.</i>) I’ve no pipes saving his own, +stranger, but they’re sweet pipes to smoke. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +Thank you kindly, lady of the house. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +Sit down now, stranger, and be taking your rest. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Filling a pipe and looking about the room.</i>) I’ve walked a great +way through the world, lady of the house, and seen great wonders, but I never +seen a wake till this day with fine spirits, and good tobacco, and the best of +pipes, and no one to taste them but a woman only. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +Didn’t you hear me say it was only after dying on me he was when the +sun went down, and how would I go out into the glen and tell the neighbours, +and I a lone woman with no house near me? +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Drinking.</i>) There’s no offence, lady of the house? +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +No offence in life, stranger. How would the like of you, passing in the +dark night, know the lonesome way I was with no house near me at all? +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Sitting down.</i>) I knew rightly. (<i>He lights his pipe so that there is a +sharp light beneath his haggard face.</i>) And I was thinking, and I coming in +through the door, that it’s many a lone woman would be afeard of the like +of me in the dark night, in a place wouldn’t be so lonesome as this +place, where there aren’t two living souls would see the little light you +have shining from the glass. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>Slowly.</i>) I’m thinking many would be afeard, but I never knew what +way I’d be afeard of beggar or bishop or any man of you at all. (<i>She +looks towards the window and lowers her voice.</i>) It’s other things than +the like of you, stranger, would make a person afeard. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Looking round with a half-shudder.</i>) It is surely, God help us all! +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>Looking at him for a moment with curiosity.</i>) You’re saying that, +stranger, as if you were easy afeard. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Speaking mournfully.</i>) Is it myself, lady of the house, that does be +walking round in the long nights, and crossing the hills when the fog is on +them, the time a little stick would seem as big as your arm, and a rabbit as +big as a bay horse, and a stack of turf as big as a towering church in the city +of Dublin? If myself was easily afeard, I’m telling you, it’s long +ago I’ld have been locked into the Richmond Asylum, or maybe have run up +into the back hills with nothing on me but an old shirt, and been eaten with +crows the like of Patch Darcy—the Lord have mercy on him—in the +year that’s gone. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>With interest.</i>) You knew Darcy? +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +Wasn’t I the last one heard his living voice in the whole world? +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +There were great stories of what was heard at that time, but would any one +believe the things they do be saying in the glen? +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +It was no lie, lady of the house.... I was passing below on a dark night +the like of this night, and the sheep were lying under the ditch and every one +of them coughing, and choking, like an old man, with the great rain and the +fog. Then I heard a thing talking—queer talk, you wouldn’t believe +at all, and you out of your dreams,—and “Merciful God,” says +I, “if I begin hearing the like of that voice out of the thick mist, +I’m destroyed surely.” Then I run, and I run, and I run, till I was +below in Rathvanna. I got drunk that night, I got drunk in the morning, and +drunk the day after,—I was coming from the races beyond—and the +third day they found Darcy.... Then I knew it was himself I was after hearing, +and I wasn’t afeard any more. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>Speaking sorrowfully and slowly.</i>) God spare Darcy, he’ld always +look in here and he passing up or passing down, and it’s very lonesome I +was after him a long while (<i>she looks over at the bed and lowers her voice, +speaking very clearly,</i>) and then I got happy again—if it’s ever +happy we are, stranger,—for I got used to being lonesome. (<i>A short pause; +then she stands up.</i>) +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +Was there any one on the last bit of the road, stranger, and you coming +from Aughrim? +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +There was a young man with a drift of mountain ewes, and he running after +them this way and that. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>With a half-smile.</i>) Far down, stranger? +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +A piece only. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>She fills the kettle and puts it on the fire.</i>) +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +Maybe, if you’re not easy afeard, you’ld stay here a short +while alone with himself. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +I would surely. A man that’s dead can do no hurt. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>Speaking with a sort of constraint.</i>) I’m going a little back to the +west, stranger, for himself would go there one night and another and whistle at +that place, and then the young man you’re after seeing—a kind of a +farmer has come up from the sea to live in a cottage beyond—would walk +round to see if there was a thing we’ld have to be done, and I’m +wanting him this night, the way he can go down into the glen when the sun goes +up and tell the people that himself is dead. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Looking at the body in the sheet.</i>) It’s myself will go for him, +lady of the house, and let you not be destroying yourself with the great rain. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +You wouldn’t find your way, stranger, for there’s a small path +only, and it running up between two sluigs where an ass and cart would be +drowned. (<i>She puts a shawl over her head.</i>) Let you be making yourself easy, and +saying a prayer for his soul, and it’s not long I’ll be coming +again. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Moving uneasily.</i>) Maybe if you’d a piece of a grey thread and a +sharp needle—there’s great safety in a needle, lady of the +house—I’ld be putting a little stitch here and there in my old +coat, the time I’ll be praying for his soul, and it going up naked to the +saints of God. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>Takes a needle and thread from the front of her dress and gives it to +him.</i>) There’s the needle, stranger, and I’m thinking you +won’t be lonesome, and you used to the back hills, for isn’t a dead +man itself more company than to be sitting alone, and hearing the winds crying, +and you not knowing on what thing your mind would stay? +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Slowly.</i>) It’s true, surely, and the Lord have mercy on us all! +</p> + +<p> +(<i>Nora goes out. The Tramp begins stitching one of the tags in his coat, saying +the “De Profundis” under his breath. In an instant the sheet is +drawn slowly down, and Dan Burke looks out. The Tramp moves uneasily, then +looks up, and springs to his feet with a movement of terror.</i>) +</p> + +<p>DAN.<br/> +(<i>With a hoarse voice.</i>) Don’t be afeard, stranger; a man that’s +dead can do no hurt. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Trembling.</i>) I meant no harm, your honour; and won’t you leave me +easy to be saying a little prayer for your soul? +</p> + +<p> +(<i>A long whistle is heard outside.</i>) +</p> + +<p>DAN.<br/> +(<i>Sitting up in his bed and speaking fiercely.</i>) Ah, the devil mend her.... +Do you hear that, stranger? Did ever you hear another woman could whistle the +like of that with two fingers in her mouth? (<i>He looks at the table hurriedly.</i>) +I’m destroyed with the drouth, and let you bring me a drop quickly before +herself will come back. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Doubtfully.</i>) Is it not dead you are? +</p> + +<p>DAN.<br/> +How would I be dead, and I as dry as a baked bone, stranger? +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Pouring out the whisky.</i>) What will herself say if she smells the stuff +on you, for I’m thinking it’s not for nothing you’re letting +on to be dead? +</p> + +<p>DAN.<br/> +It is not, stranger, but she won’t be coming near me at all, and +it’s not long now I’ll be letting on, for I’ve a cramp in my +back, and my hip’s asleep on me, and there’s been the devil’s +own fly itching my nose. It’s near dead I was wanting to sneeze, and you +blathering about the rain, and Darcy (<i>bitterly</i>)—the devil choke +him—and the towering church. (<i>Crying out impatiently.</i>) Give me that +whisky. Would you have herself come back before I taste a drop at all? +</p> + +<p> +(<i>Tramp gives him the glass.</i>) +</p> + +<p>DAN.<br/> +(<i>After drinking.</i>) Go over now to that cupboard, and bring me a black stick +you’ll see in the west corner by the wall. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Taking a stick from the cupboard</i>) Is it that? +</p> + +<p>DAN.<br/> +It is, stranger; it’s a long time I’m keeping that stick for +I’ve a bad wife in the house. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>With a queer look.</i>) Is it herself, master of the house, and she a grand +woman to talk? +</p> + +<p>DAN.<br/> +It’s herself, surely, it’s a bad wife she is—a bad wife +for an old man, and I’m getting old, God help me, though I’ve an +arm to me still. (<i>He takes the stick in his hand.</i>) Let you wait now a short +while, and it’s a great sight you’ll see in this room in two hours +or three. (<i>He stops to listen.</i>) Is that somebody above? +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Listening.</i>) There’s a voice speaking on the path. +</p> + +<p>DAN.<br/> +Put that stick here in the bed and smooth the sheet the way it was lying. +(<i>He covers himself up hastily.</i>) Be falling to sleep now and don’t let on +you know anything, or I’ll be having your life. I wouldn’t have +told you at all but it’s destroyed with the drouth I was. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Covering his head.</i>) Have no fear, master of the house. What is it I know +of the like of you that I’ld be saying a word or putting out my hand to +stay you at all? +</p> + +<p> +(<i>He goes back to the fire, sits down on a stool with his back to the bed and +goes on stitching his coat.</i>) +</p> + +<p>DAN.<br/> +(<i>Under the sheet, querulously.</i>) Stranger. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Quickly.</i>) Whisht, whisht. Be quiet I’m telling you, they’re +coming now at the door. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>Nora comes in with Micheal Dara, a tall, innocent young man behind her.</i>) +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +I wasn’t long at all, stranger, for I met himself on the path. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +You were middling long, lady of the house. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +There was no sign from himself? +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +No sign at all, lady of the house. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>To Micheal.</i>) Go over now and pull down the sheet, and look on himself, +Micheal Dara, and you’ll see it’s the truth I’m telling you. +</p> + +<p>MICHEAL.<br/> +I will not, Nora, I do be afeard of the dead. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>He sits down on a stool next the table facing the tramp. Nora puts the kettle +on a lower hook of the pot hooks, and piles turf under it.</i>) +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>Turning to Tramp.</i>) Will you drink a sup of tea with myself and the young +man, stranger, or (<i>speaking more persuasively</i>) will you go into the little room +and stretch yourself a short while on the bed, I’m thinking it’s +destroyed you are walking the length of that way in the great rain. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +Is it to go away and leave you, and you having a wake, lady of the house? +I will not surely. (<i>He takes a drink from his glass which he has beside him.</i>) +And it’s none of your tea I’m asking either. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>He goes on stitching. Nora makes the tea.</i>) +</p> + +<p>MICHEAL.<br/> +(<i>After looking at the tramp rather scornfully for a moment.</i>) +That’s a poor coat you have, God help you, and I’m thinking +it’s a poor tailor you are with it. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +If it’s a poor tailor I am, I’m thinking it’s a poor +herd does be running back and forward after a little handful of ewes the way I +seen yourself running this day, young fellow, and you coming from the fair. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>Nora comes back to the table.</i>) +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>To Micheal in a low voice.</i>) Let you not mind him at all, Micheal Dara, he +has a drop taken and it’s soon he’ll be falling asleep. +</p> + +<p>MICHEAL.<br/> +It’s no lie he’s telling, I was destroyed surely. They were +that wilful they were running off into one man’s bit of oats, and another +man’s bit of hay, and tumbling into the red bogs till it’s more +like a pack of old goats than sheep they were. Mountain ewes is a queer breed, +Nora Burke, and I’m not used to them at all. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>Settling the tea things.</i>) There’s no one can drive a mountain ewe +but the men do be reared in the Glen Malure, I’ve heard them say, and +above by Rathvanna, and the Glen Imaal, men the like of Patch Darcy, God spare +his soul, who would walk through five hundred sheep and miss one of them, and +he not reckoning them at all. +</p> + +<p>MICHEAL.<br/> +(<i>Uneasily.</i>) Is it the man went queer in his head the year that’s +gone? +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +It is surely. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Plaintively.</i>) That was a great man, young fellow, a great man I’m +telling you. There was never a lamb from his own ewes he wouldn’t know +before it was marked, and he’ld run from this to the city of Dublin and +never catch for his breath. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>Turning round quickly.</i>) He was a great man surely, stranger, and +isn’t it a grand thing when you hear a living man saying a good word of a +dead man, and he mad dying? +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +It’s the truth I’m saying, God spare his soul. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>He puts the needle under the collar of his coat, and settles himself to sleep +in the chimney-corner. Nora sits down at the table; their backs are turned to +the bed.</i>) +</p> + +<p>MICHEAL.<br/> +(<i>Looking at her with a queer look.</i>) I heard tell this day, Nora Burke, +that it was on the path below Patch Darcy would be passing up and passing down, +and I heard them say he’ld never past it night or morning without +speaking with yourself. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>In a low voice.</i>) It was no lie you heard, Micheal Dara. +</p> + +<p>MICHEAL.<br/> +I’m thinking it’s a power of men you’re after knowing +if it’s in a lonesome place you live itself. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>Giving him his tea.</i>) It’s in a lonesome place you do have to be +talking with some one, and looking for some one, in the evening of the day, and +if it’s a power of men I’m after knowing they were fine men, for I +was a hard child to please, and a hard girl to please (<i>she looks at him a +little sternly</i>), and it’s a hard woman I am to please this day, Micheal +Dara, and it’s no lie I’m telling you. +</p> + +<p>MICHEAL.<br/> +(<i>Looking over to see that the tramp is asleep, and then pointing to the +dead man.</i>) Was it a hard woman to please you were when you took himself for +your man? +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +What way would I live and I an old woman if I didn’t marry a man +with a bit of a farm, and cows on it, and sheep on the back hills? +</p> + +<p>MICHEAL.<br/> +(<i>Considering.</i>) That’s true, Nora, and maybe it’s no fool +you were, for there’s good grazing on it, if it is a lonesome place, and +I’m thinking it’s a good sum he’s left behind. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>Taking the stocking with money from her pocket, and putting it on the +table.</i>) I do be thinking in the long nights it was a big fool I was that time, +Micheal Dara, for what good is a bit of a farm with cows on it, and sheep on +the back hills, when you do be sitting looking out from a door the like of that +door, and seeing nothing but the mists rolling down the bog, and the mists +again, and they rolling up the bog, and hearing nothing but the wind crying out +in the bits of broken trees were left from the great storm, and the streams +roaring with the rain. +</p> + +<p>MICHEAL.<br/> +(<i>Looking at her uneasily.</i>) What is it ails you, this night, Nora Burke? +I’ve heard tell it’s the like of that talk you do hear from men, +and they after being a great while on the back hills. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>Putting out the money on the table.</i>) It’s a bad night, and a wild +night, Micheal Dara, and isn’t it a great while I am at the foot of the +back hills, sitting up here boiling food for himself, and food for the brood +sow, and baking a cake when the night falls? (<i>She puts up the money, +listlessly, in little piles on the table.</i>) Isn’t it a long while I am +sitting here in the winter and the summer, and the fine spring, with the young +growing behind me and the old passing, saying to myself one time, to look on +Mary Brien who wasn’t that height (<i>holding out her hand</i>), and I a fine +girl growing up, and there she is now with two children, and another coming on +her in three months or four. (<i>She pauses.</i>) +</p> + +<p>MICHEAL.<br/> +(<i>Moving over three of the piles.</i>) That’s three pounds we have +now, Nora Burke. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>Continuing in the same voice.</i>) And saying to myself another time, to look +on Peggy Cavanagh, who had the lightest hand at milking a cow that +wouldn’t be easy, or turning a cake, and there she is now walking round +on the roads, or sitting in a dirty old house, with no teeth in her mouth, and +no sense and no more hair than you’ld see on a bit of a hill and they +after burning the furze from it. +</p> + +<p>MICHEAL.<br/> +That’s five pounds and ten notes, a good sum, surely!... +It’s not that way you’ll be talking when you marry a young man, +Nora Burke, and they were saying in the fair my lambs were the best lambs, and +I got a grand price, for I’m no fool now at making a bargain when my +lambs are good. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +What was it you got? +</p> + +<p>MICHEAL.<br/> +Twenty pound for the lot, Nora Burke.... We’ld do right to wait +now till himself will be quiet awhile in the Seven Churches, and then +you’ll marry me in the chapel of Rathvanna, and I’ll bring the +sheep up on the bit of a hill you have on the back mountain, and we won’t +have anything we’ld be afeard to let our minds on when the mist is down. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>Pouring him out some whisky.</i>) Why would I marry you, Mike Dara? +You’ll be getting old and I’ll be getting old, and in a little +while I’m telling you, you’ll be sitting up in your bed—the +way himself was sitting—with a shake in your face, and your teeth +falling, and the white hair sticking out round you like an old bush where sheep +do be leaping a gap. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>Dan Burke sits up noiselessly from under the sheet, with his hand to his face. +His white hair is sticking out round his head.</i>) +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>Goes on slowly without hearing him.</i>) It’s a pitiful thing to be +getting old, but it’s a queer thing surely. It’s a queer thing to +see an old man sitting up there in his bed with no teeth in him, and a rough +word in his mouth, and his chin the way it would take the bark from the edge of +an oak board you’ld have building a door.... God forgive me, Micheal +Dara, we’ll all be getting old, but it’s a queer thing surely. +</p> + +<p>MICHEAL.<br/> +It’s too lonesome you are from living a long time with an old +man, Nora, and you’re talking again like a herd that would be coming down +from the thick mist (<i>he puts his arm round her</i>), but it’s a fine life +you’ll have now with a young man, a fine life surely.... +</p> + +<p> +(<i>Dan sneezes violently. Micheal tries to get to the door, but before he can do +so, Dan jumps out of the bed in queer white clothes, with his stick in his +hand, and goes over and puts his back against it.</i>) +</p> + +<p>MICHEAL.<br/> +Son of God deliver us. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>Crosses himself, and goes backward across the room.</i>) +</p> + +<p>DAN.<br/> +(<i>Holding up his hand at him.</i>) Now you’ll not marry her the time +I’m rotting below in the Seven Churches, and you’ll see the thing +I’ll give you will follow you on the back mountains when the wind is +high. +</p> + +<p>MICHEAL.<br/> +(<i>To Nora.</i>) Get me out of it, Nora, for the love of God. He always did +what you bid him, and I’m thinking he would do it now. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>Looking at the Tramp.</i>) Is it dead he is or living? +</p> + +<p>DAN.<br/> +(<i>Turning towards her.</i>) It’s little you care if it’s dead or +living I am, but there’ll be an end now of your fine times, and all the +talk you have of young men and old men, and of the mist coming up or going +down. (<i>He opens the door.</i>) You’ll walk out now from that door, Nora +Burke, and it’s not to-morrow, or the next day, or any day of your life, +that you’ll put in your foot through it again. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Standing up.</i>) It’s a hard thing you’re saying for an old +man, master of the house, and what would the like of her do if you put her out +on the roads? +</p> + +<p>DAN.<br/> +Let her walk round the like of Peggy Cavanagh below, and be begging money +at the cross-road, or selling songs to the men. (<i>To Nora.</i>) Walk out now, Nora +Burke, and it’s soon you’ll be getting old with that life, +I’m telling you; it’s soon your teeth’ll be falling and your +head’ll be the like of a bush where sheep do be leaping a gap. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>He pauses: she looks round at Micheal.</i>) +</p> + +<p>MICHEAL.<br/> +(<i>Timidly.</i>) There’s a fine Union below in Rathdrum. +</p> + +<p>DAN.<br/> +The like of her would never go there.... It’s lonesome roads +she’ll be going and hiding herself away till the end will come, and they +find her stretched like a dead sheep with the frost on her, or the big spiders, +maybe, and they putting their webs on her, in the butt of a ditch. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +(<i>Angrily.</i>) What way will yourself be that day, Daniel Burke? What way will +you be that day and you lying down a long while in your grave? For it’s +bad you are living, and it’s bad you’ll be when you’re dead. +(<i>She looks at him a moment fiercely, then half turns away and speaks +plaintively again.</i>) Yet, if it is itself, Daniel Burke, who can help it at all, +and let you be getting up into your bed, and not be taking your death with the +wind blowing on you, and the rain with it, and you half in your skin. +</p> + +<p>DAN.<br/> +It’s proud and happy you’ld be if I was getting my death the +day I was shut of yourself. (<i>Pointing to the door.</i>) Let you walk out through +that door, I’m telling you, and let you not be passing this way if +it’s hungry you are, or wanting a bed. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Pointing to Micheal.</i>) Maybe himself would take her. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +What would he do with me now? +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +Give you the half of a dry bed, and good food in your mouth. +</p> + +<p>DAN.<br/> +Is it a fool you think him, stranger, or is it a fool you were born +yourself? Let her walk out of that door, and let you go along with her, +stranger—if it’s raining itself—for it’s too much talk +you have surely. +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>Going over to Nora.</i>) We’ll be going now, lady of the +house—the rain is falling, but the air is kind and maybe it’ll be a +grand morning by the grace of God. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +What good is a grand morning when I’m destroyed surely, and I going +out to get my death walking the roads? +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +You’ll not be getting your death with myself, lady of the house, +and I knowing all the ways a man can put food in his mouth.... We’ll be +going now, I’m telling you, and the time you’ll be feeling the +cold, and the frost, and the great rain, and the sun again, and the south wind +blowing in the glens, you’ll not be sitting up on a wet ditch, the way +you’re after sitting in the place, making yourself old with looking on +each day, and it passing you by. You’ll be saying one time, +“It’s a grand evening, by the grace of God,” and another +time, “It’s a wild night, God help us, but it’ll pass +surely.” You’ll be saying— +</p> + +<p>DAN.<br/> +(<i>Goes over to them crying out impatiently.</i>) Go out of that door, I’m +telling you, and do your blathering below in the glen. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>Nora gathers a few things into her shawl.</i>) +</p> + +<p>TRAMP.<br/> +(<i>At the door.</i>) Come along with me now, lady of the house, and it’s +not my blather you’ll be hearing only, but you’ll be hearing the +herons crying out over the black lakes, and you’ll be hearing the grouse +and the owls with them, and the larks and the big thrushes when the days are +warm, and it’s not from the like of them you’ll be hearing a talk +of getting old like Peggy Cavanagh, and losing the hair off you, and the light +of your eyes, but it’s fine songs you’ll be hearing when the sun +goes up, and there’ll be no old fellow wheezing, the like of a sick +sheep, close to your ear. +</p> + +<p>NORA.<br/> +I’m thinking it’s myself will be wheezing that time with lying +down under the Heavens when the night is cold; but you’ve a fine bit of +talk, stranger, and it’s with yourself I’ll go. +(<i>She goes towards the door, then turns to Dan.</i>) You think it’s a grand +thing you’re after doing with your letting on to be dead, but what is it +at all? What way would a woman live in a lonesome place the like of this place, +and she not making a talk with the men passing? And what way will yourself live +from this day, with none to care for you? What is it you’ll have now but +a black life, Daniel Burke, and it’s not long I’m telling you, till +you’ll be lying again under that sheet, and you dead surely. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>She goes out with the Tramp. Micheal is slinking after them, but Dan stops +him.</i>) +</p> + +<p>DAN.<br/> +Sit down now and take a little taste of the stuff, Micheal Dara. +There’s a great drouth on me, and the night is young. +</p> + +<p>MICHEAL.<br/> +(<i>Coming back to the table.</i>) And it’s very dry I am, surely, with +the fear of death you put on me, and I after driving mountain ewes since the +turn of the day. +</p> + +<p>DAN.<br/> +(<i>Throwing away his stick.</i>) I was thinking to strike you, Micheal Dara, but +you’re a quiet man, God help you, and I don’t mind you at all. +</p> + +<p> +(<i>He pours out two glasses of whisky, and gives one to Micheal.</i>) +</p> + +<p>DAN.<br/> +Your good health, Micheal Dara. +</p> + +<p>MICHEAL.<br/> +God reward you, Daniel Burke, and may you have a long life, and a quiet +life, and good health with it. (<i>They drink.</i>) +</p> + +<h5>CURTAIN.</h5> + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Shadow of the Glen, by J. M. 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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: In the Shadow of the Glen + +Author: J. M. Synge + +Posting Date: November 7, 2008 [EBook #1618] +Release Date: January, 1999 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE SHADOW OF THE GLEN *** + + + + +Produced by Judy Boss + + + + + +IN THE SHADOW OF THE GLEN + +A PLAY IN ONE ACT + + +By J. M. Synge + + + +First performed at the Molesworth Hall, Dublin, October 8th, 1903. + + + + +PERSONS + + DAN BURKE (farmer and herd)... George Roberts + NORA BURKE (his wife)......... Maire Nic Shiubhlaigh + MICHEAL DARA (a young herd)... P. J. Kelly + A TRAMP....................... W. G. Fay + + + + +IN THE SHADOW OF THE GLEN + +A PLAY IN ONE ACT + + +SCENE.--{The last cottage at the head of a long glen in County Wicklow. + +Cottage kitchen; turf fire on the right; a bed near it against the wall +with a body lying on it covered with a sheet. A door is at the other +end of the room, with a low table near it, and stools, or wooden chairs. +There are a couple of glasses on the table, and a bottle of whisky, as +if for a wake, with two cups, a teapot, and a home-made cake. There is +another small door near the bed. Nora Burke is moving about the room, +settling a few things, and lighting candles on the table, looking now +and then at the bed with an uneasy look. Some one knocks softly at the +door. She takes up a stocking with money from the table and puts it in +her pocket. Then she opens the door.} + +TRAMP {Outside.} Good evening to you, lady of the house. + +NORA + +Good evening, kindly stranger, it's a wild night, God help you, to be +out in the rain falling. + +TRAMP It is, surely, and I walking to Brittas from the Aughrim fair. + +NORA Is it walking on your feet, stranger? + +TRAMP On my two feet, lady of the house, and when I saw the light below +I thought maybe if you'd a sup of new milk and a quiet decent corner +where a man could sleep {he looks in past her and sees the dead man.} +The Lord have mercy on us all! + +NORA It doesn't matter anyway, stranger, come in out of the rain. + +TRAMP {Coming in slowly and going towards the bed.} Is it departed he +is? + +NORA It is, stranger. He's after dying on me, God forgive him, and there +I am now with a hundred sheep beyond on the hills, and no turf drawn for +the winter. + +TRAMP {Looking closely at the dead man.} It's a queer look is on him for +a man that's dead. + +NORA {Half-humorously.} He was always queer, stranger, and I suppose +them that's queer and they living men will be queer bodies after. + +TRAMP Isn't it a great wonder you're letting him lie there, and he is +not tidied, or laid out itself? + +NORA {Coming to the bed.} I was afeard, stranger, for he put a black +curse on me this morning if I'ld touch his body the time he'ld die +sudden, or let any one touch it except his sister only, and it's ten +miles away she lives in the big glen over the hill. + +TRAMP {Looking at her and nodding slowly.} It's a queer story he +wouldn't let his own wife touch him, and he dying quiet in his bed. + +NORA He was an old man, and an odd man, stranger, and it's always up on +the hills he was thinking thoughts in the dark mist. {She pulls back a +bit of the sheet.} Lay your hand on him now, and tell me if it's cold he +is surely. + +TRAMP Is it getting the curse on me you'ld be, woman of the house? I +wouldn't lay my hand on him for the Lough Nahanagan and it filled with +gold. + +NORA {Looking uneasily at the body.} Maybe cold would be no sign of +death with the like of him, for he was always cold, every day since I +knew him,--and every night, stranger,--{she covers up his face and comes +away from the bed}; but I'm thinking it's dead he is surely, for he's +complaining a while back of a pain in his heart, and this morning, the +time he was going off to Brittas for three days or four, he was taken +with a sharp turn. Then he went into his bed and he was saying it was +destroyed he was, the time the shadow was going up through the glen, and +when the sun set on the bog beyond he made a great lep, and let a great +cry out of him, and stiffened himself out the like of a dead sheep. + +TRAMP {Crosses himself.} God rest his soul. + +NORA {Pouring him out a glass of whisky.} Maybe that would do you better +than the milk of the sweetest cow in County Wicklow. + +TRAMP The Almighty God reward you, and may it be to your good health. +{He drinks.} + +NORA {Giving him a pipe and tobacco.} I've no pipes saving his own, +stranger, but they're sweet pipes to smoke. + +TRAMP Thank you kindly, lady of the house. + +NORA Sit down now, stranger, and be taking your rest. + +TRAMP {Filling a pipe and looking about the room.} I've walked a great +way through the world, lady of the house, and seen great wonders, but I +never seen a wake till this day with fine spirits, and good tobacco, and +the best of pipes, and no one to taste them but a woman only. + +NORA Didn't you hear me say it was only after dying on me he was when +the sun went down, and how would I go out into the glen and tell the +neighbours, and I a lone woman with no house near me? + +TRAMP {Drinking.} There's no offence, lady of the house? + +NORA No offence in life, stranger. How would the like of you, passing +in the dark night, know the lonesome way I was with no house near me at +all? + +TRAMP {Sitting down.} I knew rightly. {He lights his pipe so that there +is a sharp light beneath his haggard face.} And I was thinking, and I +coming in through the door, that it's many a lone woman would be afeard +of the like of me in the dark night, in a place wouldn't be so lonesome +as this place, where there aren't two living souls would see the little +light you have shining from the glass. + +NORA {Slowly.} I'm thinking many would be afeard, but I never knew what +way I'd be afeard of beggar or bishop or any man of you at all. {She +looks towards the window and lowers her voice.} It's other things than +the like of you, stranger, would make a person afeard. + +TRAMP {Looking round with a half-shudder.} It is surely, God help us +all! + +NORA {Looking at him for a moment with curiosity.} You're saying that, +stranger, as if you were easy afeard. + +TRAMP {Speaking mournfully.} Is it myself, lady of the house, that does +be walking round in the long nights, and crossing the hills when the fog +is on them, the time a little stick would seem as big as your arm, and +a rabbit as big as a bay horse, and a stack of turf as big as a towering +church in the city of Dublin? If myself was easily afeard, I'm telling +you, it's long ago I'ld have been locked into the Richmond Asylum, or +maybe have run up into the back hills with nothing on me but an old +shirt, and been eaten with crows the like of Patch Darcy--the Lord have +mercy on him--in the year that's gone. + +NORA {With interest.} You knew Darcy? + +TRAMP Wasn't I the last one heard his living voice in the whole world? + +NORA There were great stories of what was heard at that time, but would +any one believe the things they do be saying in the glen? + +TRAMP It was no lie, lady of the house.... I was passing below on a dark +night the like of this night, and the sheep were lying under the ditch +and every one of them coughing, and choking, like an old man, with the +great rain and the fog. Then I heard a thing talking--queer talk, you +wouldn't believe at all, and you out of your dreams,--and "Merciful +God," says I, "if I begin hearing the like of that voice out of the +thick mist, I'm destroyed surely." Then I run, and I run, and I run, +till I was below in Rathvanna. I got drunk that night, I got drunk +in the morning, and drunk the day after,--I was coming from the races +beyond--and the third day they found Darcy.... Then I knew it was +himself I was after hearing, and I wasn't afeard any more. + +NORA {Speaking sorrowfully and slowly.} God spare Darcy, he'ld always +look in here and he passing up or passing down, and it's very lonesome +I was after him a long while {she looks over at the bed and lowers her +voice, speaking very clearly,} and then I got happy again--if it's ever +happy we are, stranger,--for I got used to being lonesome. {A short +pause; then she stands up.} + +NORA Was there any one on the last bit of the road, stranger, and you +coming from Aughrim? + +TRAMP There was a young man with a drift of mountain ewes, and he +running after them this way and that. + +NORA {With a half-smile.} Far down, stranger? + +TRAMP A piece only. + +{She fills the kettle and puts it on the fire.} + +NORA Maybe, if you're not easy afeard, you'ld stay here a short while +alone with himself. + +TRAMP I would surely. A man that's dead can do no hurt. + +NORA {Speaking with a sort of constraint.} I'm going a little back to +the west, stranger, for himself would go there one night and another +and whistle at that place, and then the young man you're after +seeing--a kind of a farmer has come up from the sea to live in a cottage +beyond--would walk round to see if there was a thing we'ld have to be +done, and I'm wanting him this night, the way he can go down into the +glen when the sun goes up and tell the people that himself is dead. + +TRAMP {Looking at the body in the sheet.} It's myself will go for him, +lady of the house, and let you not be destroying yourself with the great +rain. + +NORA You wouldn't find your way, stranger, for there's a small path +only, and it running up between two sluigs where an ass and cart would +be drowned. {She puts a shawl over her head.} Let you be making yourself +easy, and saying a prayer for his soul, and it's not long I'll be coming +again. + +TRAMP {Moving uneasily.} Maybe if you'd a piece of a grey thread and a +sharp needle--there's great safety in a needle, lady of the house--I'ld +be putting a little stitch here and there in my old coat, the time I'll +be praying for his soul, and it going up naked to the saints of God. + +NORA {Takes a needle and thread from the front of her dress and gives +it to him.} There's the needle, stranger, and I'm thinking you won't be +lonesome, and you used to the back hills, for isn't a dead man itself +more company than to be sitting alone, and hearing the winds crying, and +you not knowing on what thing your mind would stay? + +TRAMP {Slowly.} It's true, surely, and the Lord have mercy on us all! + +{Nora goes out. The Tramp begins stitching one of the tags in his coat, +saying the "De Profundis" under his breath. In an instant the sheet is +drawn slowly down, and Dan Burke looks out. The Tramp moves uneasily, +then looks up, and springs to his feet with a movement of terror.} + +DAN {With a hoarse voice.} Don't be afeard, stranger; a man that's dead +can do no hurt. + +TRAMP {Trembling.} I meant no harm, your honour; and won't you leave me +easy to be saying a little prayer for your soul? + +{A long whistle is heard outside.} + +DAN {Sitting up in his bed and speaking fiercely.} Ah, the devil mend +her.... Do you hear that, stranger? Did ever you hear another woman +could whistle the like of that with two fingers in her mouth? {He looks +at the table hurriedly.} I'm destroyed with the drouth, and let you +bring me a drop quickly before herself will come back. + +TRAMP {Doubtfully.} Is it not dead you are? + +DAN How would I be dead, and I as dry as a baked bone, stranger? + +TRAMP {Pouring out the whisky.} What will herself say if she smells the +stuff on you, for I'm thinking it's not for nothing you're letting on to +be dead? + +DAN It is not, stranger, but she won't be coming near me at all, and +it's not long now I'll be letting on, for I've a cramp in my back, and +my hip's asleep on me, and there's been the devil's own fly itching my +nose. It's near dead I was wanting to sneeze, and you blathering about +the rain, and Darcy {bitterly}--the devil choke him--and the towering +church. {Crying out impatiently.} Give me that whisky. Would you have +herself come back before I taste a drop at all? + +{Tramp gives him the glass.} + +DAN {After drinking.} Go over now to that cupboard, and bring me a black +stick you'll see in the west corner by the wall. + +TRAMP {Taking a stick from the cupboard} Is it that? + +DAN It is, stranger; it's a long time I'm keeping that stick for I've a +bad wife in the house. + +TRAMP {With a queer look.} Is it herself, master of the house, and she a +grand woman to talk? + +DAN It's herself, surely, it's a bad wife she is--a bad wife for an old +man, and I'm getting old, God help me, though I've an arm to me still. +{He takes the stick in his hand.} Let you wait now a short while, and +it's a great sight you'll see in this room in two hours or three. {He +stops to listen.} Is that somebody above? + +TRAMP {Listening.} There's a voice speaking on the path. + +DAN Put that stick here in the bed and smooth the sheet the way it was +lying. {He covers himself up hastily.} Be falling to sleep now and don't +let on you know anything, or I'll be having your life. I wouldn't have +told you at all but it's destroyed with the drouth I was. + +TRAMP {Covering his head.} Have no fear, master of the house. What is it +I know of the like of you that I'ld be saying a word or putting out my +hand to stay you at all? + +{He goes back to the fire, sits down on a stool with his back to the bed +and goes on stitching his coat.} + +DAN {Under the sheet, querulously.} Stranger. + +TRAMP {Quickly.} Whisht, whisht. Be quiet I'm telling you, they're +coming now at the door. + +{Nora comes in with Micheal Dara, a tall, innocent young man behind +her.} + +NORA I wasn't long at all, stranger, for I met himself on the path. + +TRAMP You were middling long, lady of the house. + +NORA There was no sign from himself? + +TRAMP No sign at all, lady of the house. + +NORA {To Micheal.} Go over now and pull down the sheet, and look on +himself, Micheal Dara, and you'll see it's the truth I'm telling you. + +MICHEAL I will not, Nora, I do be afeard of the dead. + +{He sits down on a stool next the table facing the tramp. Nora puts the +kettle on a lower hook of the pot hooks, and piles turf under it.} + +NORA {Turning to Tramp.} Will you drink a sup of tea with myself and the +young man, stranger, or {speaking more persuasively} will you go into +the little room and stretch yourself a short while on the bed, I'm +thinking it's destroyed you are walking the length of that way in the +great rain. + +TRAMP Is it to go away and leave you, and you having a wake, lady of the +house? I will not surely. {He takes a drink from his glass which he has +beside him.} And it's none of your tea I'm asking either. + +{He goes on stitching. Nora makes the tea.} + +MICHEAL {After looking at the tramp rather scornfully for a moment.} +That's a poor coat you have, God help you, and I'm thinking it's a poor +tailor you are with it. + +TRAMP If it's a poor tailor I am, I'm thinking it's a poor herd does be +running back and forward after a little handful of ewes the way I seen +yourself running this day, young fellow, and you coming from the fair. + +{Nora comes back to the table.} + +NORA {To Micheal in a low voice.} Let you not mind him at all, Micheal +Dara, he has a drop taken and it's soon he'll be falling asleep. + +MICHEAL It's no lie he's telling, I was destroyed surely. They were that +wilful they were running off into one man's bit of oats, and another +man's bit of hay, and tumbling into the red bogs till it's more like a +pack of old goats than sheep they were. Mountain ewes is a queer breed, +Nora Burke, and I'm not used to them at all. + +NORA {Settling the tea things.} There's no one can drive a mountain ewe +but the men do be reared in the Glen Malure, I've heard them say, and +above by Rathvanna, and the Glen Imaal, men the like of Patch Darcy, God +spare his soul, who would walk through five hundred sheep and miss one +of them, and he not reckoning them at all. + +MICHEAL {Uneasily.} Is it the man went queer in his head the year that's +gone? + +NORA It is surely. + +TRAMP {Plaintively.} That was a great man, young fellow, a great man I'm +telling you. There was never a lamb from his own ewes he wouldn't know +before it was marked, and he'ld run from this to the city of Dublin and +never catch for his breath. + +NORA {Turning round quickly.} He was a great man surely, stranger, and +isn't it a grand thing when you hear a living man saying a good word of +a dead man, and he mad dying? + +TRAMP It's the truth I'm saying, God spare his soul. + +{He puts the needle under the collar of his coat, and settles himself +to sleep in the chimney-corner. Nora sits down at the table; their backs +are turned to the bed.} + +MICHEAL {Looking at her with a queer look.} I heard tell this day, Nora +Burke, that it was on the path below Patch Darcy would be passing up and +passing down, and I heard them say he'ld never past it night or morning +without speaking with yourself. + +NORA {In a low voice.} It was no lie you heard, Micheal Dara. + +MICHEAL I'm thinking it's a power of men you're after knowing if it's in +a lonesome place you live itself. + +NORA {Giving him his tea.} It's in a lonesome place you do have to be +talking with some one, and looking for some one, in the evening of the +day, and if it's a power of men I'm after knowing they were fine men, +for I was a hard child to please, and a hard girl to please {she looks +at him a little sternly}, and it's a hard woman I am to please this day, +Micheal Dara, and it's no lie I'm telling you. + +MICHEAL {Looking over to see that the tramp is asleep, and then pointing +to the dead man.} Was it a hard woman to please you were when you took +himself for your man? + +NORA What way would I live and I an old woman if I didn't marry a man +with a bit of a farm, and cows on it, and sheep on the back hills? + +MICHEAL {Considering.} That's true, Nora, and maybe it's no fool you +were, for there's good grazing on it, if it is a lonesome place, and I'm +thinking it's a good sum he's left behind. 28 + +NORA {Taking the stocking with money from her pocket, and putting it on +the table.} I do be thinking in the long nights it was a big fool I was +that time, Micheal Dara, for what good is a bit of a farm with cows on +it, and sheep on the back hills, when you do be sitting looking out from +a door the like of that door, and seeing nothing but the mists rolling +down the bog, and the mists again, and they rolling up the bog, and +hearing nothing but the wind crying out in the bits of broken trees were +left from the great storm, and the streams roaring with the rain. + +MICHEAL {Looking at her uneasily.} What is it ails you, this night, Nora +Burke? I've heard tell it's the like of that talk you do hear from men, +and they after being a great while on the back hills. + +NORA {Putting out the money on the table.} It's a bad night, and a wild +night, Micheal Dara, and isn't it a great while I am at the foot of the +back hills, sitting up here boiling food for himself, and food for the +brood sow, and baking a cake when the night falls? {She puts up the +money, listlessly, in little piles on the table.} Isn't it a long while +I am sitting here in the winter and the summer, and the fine spring, +with the young growing behind me and the old passing, saying to myself +one time, to look on Mary Brien who wasn't that height {holding out +her hand}, and I a fine girl growing up, and there she is now with +two children, and another coming on her in three months or four. {She +pauses.} + +MICHEAL {Moving over three of the piles.} That's three pounds we have +now, Nora Burke. + +NORA {Continuing in the same voice.} And saying to myself another time, +to look on Peggy Cavanagh, who had the lightest hand at milking a cow +that wouldn't be easy, or turning a cake, and there she is now walking +round on the roads, or sitting in a dirty old house, with no teeth in +her mouth, and no sense and no more hair than you'ld see on a bit of a +hill and they after burning the furze from it. + +MICHEAL That's five pounds and ten notes, a good sum, surely!... It's +not that way you'll be talking when you marry a young man, Nora Burke, +and they were saying in the fair my lambs were the best lambs, and I got +a grand price, for I'm no fool now at making a bargain when my lambs are +good. + +NORA What was it you got? + +MICHEAL Twenty pound for the lot, Nora Burke.... We'ld do right to wait +now till himself will be quiet awhile in the Seven Churches, and then +you'll marry me in the chapel of Rathvanna, and I'll bring the sheep up +on the bit of a hill you have on the back mountain, and we won't have +anything we'ld be afeard to let our minds on when the mist is down. + +NORA {Pouring him out some whisky.} Why would I marry you, Mike Dara? +You'll be getting old and I'll be getting old, and in a little while +I'm telling you, you'll be sitting up in your bed--the way himself was +sitting--with a shake in your face, and your teeth falling, and the +white hair sticking out round you like an old bush where sheep do be +leaping a gap. + +{Dan Burke sits up noiselessly from under the sheet, with his hand to +his face. His white hair is sticking out round his head.} + +NORA {Goes on slowly without hearing him.} It's a pitiful thing to be +getting old, but it's a queer thing surely. It's a queer thing to see +an old man sitting up there in his bed with no teeth in him, and a rough +word in his mouth, and his chin the way it would take the bark from the +edge of an oak board you'ld have building a door.... God forgive me, +Micheal Dara, we'll all be getting old, but it's a queer thing surely. + +MICHEAL It's too lonesome you are from living a long time with an old +man, Nora, and you're talking again like a herd that would be coming +down from the thick mist {he puts his arm round her}, but it's a fine +life you'll have now with a young man, a fine life surely.... + +{Dan sneezes violently. Micheal tries to get to the door, but before +he can do so, Dan jumps out of the bed in queer white clothes, with his +stick in his hand, and goes over and puts his back against it.} + +MICHEAL Son of God deliver us. + +{Crosses himself, and goes backward across the room.} + +DAN {Holding up his hand at him.} Now you'll not marry her the time I'm +rotting below in the Seven Churches, and you'll see the thing I'll give +you will follow you on the back mountains when the wind is high. + +MICHEAL {To Nora.} Get me out of it, Nora, for the love of God. He +always did what you bid him, and I'm thinking he would do it now. + +NORA {Looking at the Tramp.} Is it dead he is or living? + +DAN {Turning towards her.} It's little you care if it's dead or living I +am, but there'll be an end now of your fine times, and all the talk you +have of young men and old men, and of the mist coming up or going down. +{He opens the door.} You'll walk out now from that door, Nora Burke, +and it's not to-morrow, or the next day, or any day of your life, that +you'll put in your foot through it again. + +TRAMP {Standing up.} It's a hard thing you're saying for an old man, +master of the house, and what would the like of her do if you put her +out on the roads? + +DAN Let her walk round the like of Peggy Cavanagh below, and be begging +money at the cross-road, or selling songs to the men. {To Nora.} Walk +out now, Nora Burke, and it's soon you'll be getting old with that life, +I'm telling you; it's soon your teeth'll be falling and your head'll be +the like of a bush where sheep do be leaping a gap. + +{He pauses: she looks round at Micheal.} + +MICHEAL {Timidly.} There's a fine Union below in Rathdrum. + +DAN The like of her would never go there.... It's lonesome roads she'll +be going and hiding herself away till the end will come, and they +find her stretched like a dead sheep with the frost on her, or the big +spiders, maybe, and they putting their webs on her, in the butt of a +ditch. + +NORA {Angrily.} What way will yourself be that day, Daniel Burke? What +way will you be that day and you lying down a long while in your grave? +For it's bad you are living, and it's bad you'll be when you're dead. +{She looks at him a moment fiercely, then half turns away and speaks +plaintively again.} Yet, if it is itself, Daniel Burke, who can help it +at all, and let you be getting up into your bed, and not be taking your +death with the wind blowing on you, and the rain with it, and you half +in your skin. + +DAN It's proud and happy you'ld be if I was getting my death the day I +was shut of yourself. {Pointing to the door.} Let you walk out through +that door, I'm telling you, and let you not be passing this way if it's +hungry you are, or wanting a bed. + +TRAMP {Pointing to Micheal.} Maybe himself would take her. + +NORA What would he do with me now? + +TRAMP Give you the half of a dry bed, and good food in your mouth. + +DAN Is it a fool you think him, stranger, or is it a fool you were born +yourself? Let her walk out of that door, and let you go along with +her, stranger--if it's raining itself--for it's too much talk you have +surely. + +TRAMP {Going over to Nora.} We'll be going now, lady of the house--the +rain is falling, but the air is kind and maybe it'll be a grand morning +by the grace of God. + +NORA What good is a grand morning when I'm destroyed surely, and I going +out to get my death walking the roads? + +TRAMP You'll not be getting your death with myself, lady of the house, +and I knowing all the ways a man can put food in his mouth.... We'll be +going now, I'm telling you, and the time you'll be feeling the cold, +and the frost, and the great rain, and the sun again, and the south wind +blowing in the glens, you'll not be sitting up on a wet ditch, the way +you're after sitting in the place, making yourself old with looking +on each day, and it passing you by. You'll be saying one time, "It's +a grand evening, by the grace of God," and another time, "It's a wild +night, God help us, but it'll pass surely." You'll be saying-- + +DAN {Goes over to them crying out impatiently.} Go out of that door, I'm +telling you, and do your blathering below in the glen. + +{Nora gathers a few things into her shawl.} + +TRAMP {At the door.} Come along with me now, lady of the house, and it's +not my blather you'll be hearing only, but you'll be hearing the herons +crying out over the black lakes, and you'll be hearing the grouse and +the owls with them, and the larks and the big thrushes when the days +are warm, and it's not from the like of them you'll be hearing a talk +of getting old like Peggy Cavanagh, and losing the hair off you, and the +light of your eyes, but it's fine songs you'll be hearing when the sun +goes up, and there'll be no old fellow wheezing, the like of a sick +sheep, close to your ear. + +NORA I'm thinking it's myself will be wheezing that time with lying down +under the Heavens when the night is cold; but you've a fine bit of talk, +stranger, and it's with yourself I'll go. + +{She goes towards the door, then turns to Dan.} You think it's a grand +thing you're after doing with your letting on to be dead, but what is it +at all? What way would a woman live in a lonesome place the like of this +place, and she not making a talk with the men passing? And what way +will yourself live from this day, with none to care for you? What is it +you'll have now but a black life, Daniel Burke, and it's not long I'm +telling you, till you'll be lying again under that sheet, and you dead +surely. + +{She goes out with the Tramp. Micheal is slinking after them, but Dan +stops him.} + +DAN Sit down now and take a little taste of the stuff, Micheal Dara. +There's a great drouth on me, and the night is young. + +MICHEAL {Coming back to the table.} And it's very dry I am, surely, with +the fear of death you put on me, and I after driving mountain ewes since +the turn of the day. + +DAN {Throwing away his stick.} I was thinking to strike you, Micheal +Dara, but you're a quiet man, God help you, and I don't mind you at all. + +{He pours out two glasses of whisky, and gives one to Micheal.} + +DAN Your good health, Micheal Dara. + +MICHEAL God reward you, Daniel Burke, and may you have a long life, and +a quiet life, and good health with it. {They drink.} + +CURTAIN. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's In the Shadow of the Glen, by J. M. 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George Roberts +NORA BURKE (his wife) . . . Maire Nic Shiubhlaigh +MICHEAL DARA (a young herd) . P. J. Kelly +A TRAMP . . . . . . . . W. G. Fay + + +IN THE SHADOW OF THE GLEN + +A PLAY IN ONE ACT + + +SCENE. -- {The last cottage at the head of a +long glen in County Wicklow. + +Cottage kitchen; turf fire on the right; a bed near it against +the wall with a body lying on it covered with a sheet. A door is +at the other end of the room, with a low table near it, and +stools, or wooden chairs. There are a couple of glasses on the +table, and a bottle of whisky, as if for a wake, with two cups, a +teapot, and a home-made cake. There is another small door near +the bed. Nora Burke is moving about the room, settling a few +things, and lighting candles on the table, looking now and +then at the bed with an uneasy look. Some one knocks softly at +the door. She takes up a stocking with money from the table and +puts it in her pocket. Then she opens the door.} + +TRAMP +{Outside.} +Good evening to you, lady of the house. + +NORA + +Good evening, kindly stranger, it's a wild +night, God help you, to be out in the rain falling. + +TRAMP +It is, surely, and I walking to Brittas from the Aughrim fair. + +NORA +Is it walking on your feet, stranger? + +TRAMP +On my two feet, lady of the house, and when I saw the light below +I thought maybe if you'd a sup of new milk and a quiet decent +corner where a man could sleep {he looks in past her +and sees the dead man.} The Lord have mercy on us all! + +NORA +It doesn't matter anyway, stranger, come in out of the rain. + +TRAMP +{Coming in slowly and going towards the bed.} +Is it departed he is? + +NORA +It is, stranger. He's after dying on me, God forgive him, and +there I am now with a hundred sheep beyond on the hills, and no +turf drawn for the winter. + +TRAMP +{Looking closely at the dead man.} +It's a queer look is on him for a man that's dead. + +NORA +{Half-humorously.} +He was always queer, stranger, and I suppose them that's queer +and they living men will be queer bodies after. + +TRAMP +Isn't it a great wonder you're letting him lie there, and he is +not tidied, or laid out itself? + +NORA +{Coming to the bed.} +I was afeard, stranger, for he put a black curse on me this +morning if I'ld touch his body the time he'ld die sudden, or let +any one touch it except his sister only, and it's ten miles away +she lives in the big glen over the hill. + +TRAMP +{Looking at her and nodding slowly.} +It's a queer story he wouldn't let his own wife touch him, and he +dying quiet in his bed. + +NORA +He was an old man, and an odd man, stranger, and it's always up +on the hills he was thinking thoughts in the dark mist. {She +pulls back a bit of the sheet.} Lay your hand on him now, and +tell me if it's cold he is surely. + +TRAMP +Is it getting the curse on me you'ld be, woman of the house? I +wouldn't lay my hand on him for the Lough Nahanagan and it filled +with gold. + +NORA +{Looking uneasily at the body.} +Maybe cold would be no sign of death with the like of him, for he +was always cold, every day since I knew him, -- and every night, +stranger, -- {she covers up his face and comes away from the +bed}; but I'm thinking it's dead he is surely, for he's +complaining a while back of a pain in his heart, and this +morning, the time he was going off to Brittas for three days or +four, he was taken with a sharp turn. Then he went into his bed +and he was saying it was destroyed he was, the time the shadow +was going up through the glen, and when the sun set on the bog +beyond he made a great lep, and let a great cry out of him, and +stiffened himself out the like of a dead sheep. + +TRAMP +{Crosses himself.} +God rest his soul. + +NORA +{Pouring him out a glass of whisky.} +Maybe that would do you better than the milk of the sweetest cow +in County Wicklow. + +TRAMP +The Almighty God reward you, and may it be to your good health. +{He drinks.} + +NORA +{Giving him a pipe and tobacco.} +I've no pipes saving his own, stranger, but they're sweet pipes +to smoke. + +TRAMP +Thank you kindly, lady of the house. + +NORA +Sit down now, stranger, and be taking your rest. + +TRAMP +{Filling a pipe and looking about the room.} +I've walked a great way through the world, lady of the house, and +seen great wonders, but I never seen a wake till this day with +fine spirits, and good tobacco, and the best of pipes, and no one +to taste them but a woman only. + +NORA +Didn't you hear me say it was only after dying on me he was when +the sun went down, and how would I go out into the glen and tell +the neighbours, and I a lone woman with no house near me? + +TRAMP +{Drinking.} +There's no offence, lady of the house? + +NORA +No offence in life, stranger. How would the like of you, passing +in the dark night, know the lonesome way I was with no house near +me at all? + +TRAMP +{Sitting down.} +I knew rightly. {He lights his pipe so that there is a sharp +light beneath his haggard face.} And I was thinking, and I +coming in through the door, that it's many a lone woman +would be afeard of the like of me in the dark night, in a place +wouldn't be so lonesome as this place, where there aren't two +living souls would see the little light you have shining from +the glass. + +NORA +{Slowly.} +I'm thinking many would be afeard, but I never knew what way I'd +be afeard of beggar or bishop or any man of you at all. {She +looks towards the window and lowers her voice.} It's other things +than the like of you, stranger, would make a person afeard. + +TRAMP +{Looking round with a half-shudder.} +It is surely, God help us all! + +NORA +{Looking at him for a moment with curiosity.} +You're saying that, stranger, as if you were easy afeard. + +TRAMP +{Speaking mournfully.} +Is it myself, lady of the house, that does be walking round in +the long nights, and crossing the hills when the fog is on them, +the time a little stick would seem as big as your arm, and a +rabbit as big as a bay horse, and a stack of turf as big as a +towering church in the city of Dublin? If myself was easily +afeard, I'm telling you, it's long ago I'ld have been locked +into the Richmond Asylum, or maybe have run up into the back +hills with nothing on me but an old shirt, and been eaten with +crows the like of Patch Darcy -- the Lord have mercy on him -- in +the year that's gone. + +NORA +{With interest.} +You knew Darcy? + +TRAMP +Wasn't I the last one heard his living voice in the whole world? + +NORA +There were great stories of what was heard at that time, but +would any one believe the things they do be saying in the glen? + +TRAMP +It was no lie, lady of the house. . . . I was passing below on a +dark night the like of this night, and the sheep were lying under +the ditch and every one of them coughing, and choking, like an +old man, with the great rain and the fog. Then I heard a thing +talking -- queer talk, you wouldn't believe at all, and you out +of your dreams, -- and "Merciful God," says I, "if I begin +hearing the like of that voice out of the thick mist, I'm +destroyed surely." Then I run, and I run, and I run, till I was +below in Rathvanna. I got drunk that night, I got drunk in the +morning, and drunk the day after, -- I was coming from the races +beyond -- and the third day they found Darcy. . . . Then I knew +it was himself I was after hearing, and I wasn't afeard any more. + +NORA +{Speaking sorrowfully and slowly.} +God spare Darcy, he'ld always look in here and he passing up or +passing down, and it's very lonesome I was after him a long while +{she looks over at the bed and lowers her voice, speaking very +clearly,} and then I got happy again -- if it's ever happy we +are, stranger, -- for I got used to being lonesome. +{A short pause; then she stands up.} + +NORA +Was there any one on the last bit of the road, stranger, and you +coming from Aughrim? + +TRAMP +There was a young man with a drift of mountain ewes, and he +running after them this way and that. + +NORA +{With a half-smile.} +Far down, stranger? + +TRAMP +A piece only. + +{She fills the kettle and puts it on the fire.} + +NORA +Maybe, if you're not easy afeard, you'ld stay here a short while +alone with himself. + +TRAMP +I would surely. A man that's dead can do no hurt. + +NORA +{Speaking with a sort of constraint.} +I'm going a little back to the west, stranger, for himself would +go there one night and another and whistle at that place, and +then the young man you're after seeing -- a kind of a farmer has +come up from the sea to live in a cottage beyond -- would walk +round to see if there was a thing we'ld have to be done, and I'm +wanting him this night, the way he can go down into the glen when +the sun goes up and tell the people that himself is dead. + +TRAMP +{Looking at the body in the sheet.} +It's myself will go for him, lady of the house, and let you not +be destroying yourself with the great rain. + +NORA +You wouldn't find your way, stranger, for there's a small path +only, and it running up between two sluigs where an ass and cart +would be drowned. {She puts a shawl over her head.} Let you be +making yourself easy, and saying a prayer for his soul, and it's +not long I'll be coming again. + +TRAMP +{Moving uneasily.} +Maybe if you'd a piece of a grey thread and a sharp needle -- +there's great safety in a needle, lady of the house -- I'ld be +putting a little stitch here and there in my old coat, the time +I'll be praying for his soul, and it going up naked to the saints +of God. + +NORA +{Takes a needle and thread from the front of her dress and gives +it to him.} +There's the needle, stranger, and I'm thinking you won't be +lonesome, and you used to the back hills, for isn't a dead man +itself more company than to be sitting alone, and hearing the +winds crying, and you not knowing on what thing your mind would +stay? + +TRAMP +{Slowly.} +It's true, surely, and the Lord have mercy on us all! + +{Nora goes out. The Tramp begins stitching one of the tags in +his coat, saying the "De Profundis" under his breath. In an +instant the sheet is drawn slowly down, and Dan Burke looks out. +The Tramp moves uneasily, then looks up, and springs to his feet +with a movement of terror.} + +DAN +{With a hoarse voice.} +Don't be afeard, stranger; a man that's dead can do no hurt. + +TRAMP +{Trembling.} +I meant no harm, your honour; and won't you leave me easy to be +saying a little prayer for your soul? + +{A long whistle is heard outside.} + +DAN +{Sitting up in his bed and speaking fiercely.} +Ah, the devil mend her. . . . Do you hear that, stranger? Did +ever you hear another woman could whistle the like of that with +two fingers in her mouth? {He looks at the table hurriedly.} +I'm destroyed with the drouth, and let you bring me a drop +quickly before herself will come back. + +TRAMP +{Doubtfully.} +Is it not dead you are? + +DAN +How would I be dead, and I as dry as a baked bone, stranger? + +TRAMP +{Pouring out the whisky.} +What will herself say if she smells the stuff on you, for I'm +thinking it's not for nothing you're letting on to be dead? + +DAN +It is not, stranger, but she won't be coming near me at all, and +it's not long now I'll be letting on, for I've a cramp in my +back, and my hip's asleep on me, and there's been the devil's own +fly itching my nose. It's near dead I was wanting to sneeze, and +you blathering about the rain, and Darcy {bitterly} -- the devil +choke him -- and the towering church. {Crying out impatiently.} +Give me that whisky. Would you have herself come back before I +taste a drop at all? + +{Tramp gives him the glass.} + +DAN +{After drinking.} +Go over now to that cupboard, and bring me a black stick you'll +see in the west corner by the wall. + +TRAMP +{Taking a stick from the cupboard} +Is it that? + +DAN +It is, stranger; it's a long time I'm keeping that stick for I've +a bad wife in the house. + +TRAMP +{With a queer look.} +Is it herself, master of the house, and she a grand woman to +talk? + +DAN +It's herself, surely, it's a bad wife she is -- a bad wife for an +old man, and I'm getting old, God help me, though I've an arm to +me still. {He takes the stick in his hand.} Let you wait now a +short while, and it's a great sight you'll see in this room in +two hours or three. {He stops to listen.} Is that somebody +above? + +TRAMP +{Listening.} +There's a voice speaking on the path. + +DAN +Put that stick here in the bed and smooth the sheet the way it +was lying. {He covers himself up hastily.} Be falling to sleep +now and don't let on you know anything, or I'll be having your +life. I wouldn't have told you at all but it's destroyed with +the drouth I was. + +TRAMP +{Covering his head.} +Have no fear, master of the house. What is it I know of the like +of you that I'ld be saying a word or putting out my hand to stay +you at all? + +{He goes back to the fire, sits down on a stool with his back to +the bed and goes on stitching his coat.} + +DAN +{Under the sheet, querulously.} +Stranger. + +TRAMP +{Quickly.} +Whisht, whisht. Be quiet I'm telling you, they're coming now at +the door. + +{Nora comes in with Micheal Dara, a tall, innocent young man +behind her.} + +NORA +I wasn't long at all, stranger, for I met himself on the path. + +TRAMP +You were middling long, lady of the house. + +NORA +There was no sign from himself? + +TRAMP +No sign at all, lady of the house. + +NORA +{To Micheal.} +Go over now and pull down the sheet, and look on himself, Micheal +Dara, and you'll see it's the truth I'm telling you. + +MICHEAL +I will not, Nora, I do be afeard of the dead. + +{He sits down on a stool next the table facing the tramp. Nora +puts the kettle on a lower hook of the pot hooks, and piles turf +under it.} + +NORA +{Turning to Tramp.} +Will you drink a sup of tea with myself and the young man, +stranger, or {speaking more persuasively} will you go into the +little room and stretch yourself a short while on the bed, I'm +thinking it's destroyed you are walking the length of that way in +the great rain. + +TRAMP +Is it to go away and leave you, and you having a wake, lady of +the house? I will not surely. {He takes a drink from his glass +which he has beside him.} And it's none of your tea I'm asking +either. + +{He goes on stitching. Nora makes the tea.} + +MICHEAL +{After looking at the tramp rather scornfully for a moment.} +That's a poor coat you have, God help you, and I'm thinking it's +a poor tailor you are with it. + +TRAMP +If it's a poor tailor I am, I'm thinking it's a poor herd does be +running back and forward after a little handful of ewes the way I +seen yourself running this day, young fellow, and you coming from +the fair. + +{Nora comes back to the table.} + +NORA +{To Micheal in a low voice.} +Let you not mind him at all, Micheal Dara, he has a drop taken +and it's soon he'll be falling asleep. + +MICHEAL +It's no lie he's telling, I was destroyed surely. They were that +wilful they were running off into one man's bit of oats, and +another man's bit of hay, and tumbling into the red bogs till +it's more like a pack of old goats than sheep they were. +Mountain ewes is a queer breed, Nora Burke, and I'm not used to +them at all. + +NORA +{Settling the tea things.} +There's no one can drive a mountain ewe but the men do be reared +in the Glen Malure, I've heard them say, and above by Rathvanna, +and the Glen Imaal, men the like of Patch Darcy, God spare his +soul, who would walk through five hundred sheep and miss one of +them, and he not reckoning them at all. + +MICHEAL +{Uneasily.} +Is it the man went queer in his head the year that's gone? + +NORA +It is surely. + +TRAMP +{Plaintively.} +That was a great man, young fellow, a great man I'm telling you. +There was never a lamb from his own ewes he wouldn't know before +it was marked, and he'ld run from this to the city of Dublin and +never catch for his breath. + +NORA +{Turning round quickly.} +He was a great man surely, stranger, and isn't it a grand thing +when you hear a living man saying a good word of a dead man, and +he mad dying? + +TRAMP +It's the truth I'm saying, God spare his soul. + +{He puts the needle under the collar of his coat, and settles +himself to sleep in the chimney-corner. Nora sits down at the +table; their backs are turned to the bed.} + +MICHEAL +{Looking at her with a queer look.} +I heard tell this day, Nora Burke, that it was on the path below +Patch Darcy would be passing up and passing down, and I heard +them say he'ld never past it night or morning without speaking +with yourself. + +NORA +{In a low voice.} +It was no lie you heard, Micheal Dara. + +MICHEAL +I'm thinking it's a power of men you're after knowing if it's in +a lonesome place you live itself. + +NORA +{Giving him his tea.} +It's in a lonesome place you do have to be talking with some one, +and looking for some one, in the evening of the day, and if it's +a power of men I'm after knowing they were fine men, for I was a +hard child to please, and a hard girl to please {she looks at him +a little sternly}, and it's a hard woman I am to please this day, +Micheal Dara, and it's no lie I'm telling you. + +MICHEAL +{Looking over to see that the tramp is asleep, and then pointing +to the dead man.} +Was it a hard woman to please you were when you took himself for +your man? + +NORA +What way would I live and I an old woman if I didn't marry a man +with a bit of a farm, and cows on it, and sheep on the back +hills? + +MICHEAL +{Considering.} +That's true, Nora, and maybe it's no fool +you were, for there's good grazing on it, if +it is a lonesome place, and I'm thinking it's +a good sum he's left behind. +28 + +NORA +{Taking the stocking with money from her pocket, and putting it +on the table.} +I do be thinking in the long nights it was a big fool I was that +time, Micheal Dara, for what good is a bit of a farm with cows on +it, and sheep on the back hills, when you do be sitting looking +out from a door the like of that door, and seeing nothing but the +mists rolling down the bog, and the mists again, and they rolling +up the bog, and hearing nothing but the wind crying out in the +bits of broken trees were left from the great storm, and the +streams roaring with the rain. + +MICHEAL +{Looking at her uneasily.} +What is it ails you, this night, Nora Burke? I've heard tell it's +the like of that talk you do hear from men, and they after being +a great while on the back hills. + +NORA +{Putting out the money on the table.} +It's a bad night, and a wild night, Micheal Dara, and isn't it a +great while I am at the foot of the back hills, sitting up here +boiling food for himself, and food for the brood sow, and baking +a cake when the night falls? {She puts up the money, listlessly, +in little piles on the table.} Isn't it a long while I am +sitting here in the winter and the summer, and the fine spring, +with the young growing behind me and the old passing, saying to +myself one time, to look on Mary Brien who wasn't that height +{holding out her hand}, and I a fine girl growing up, and there +she is now with two children, and another coming on her in three +months or four. {She pauses.} + +MICHEAL +{Moving over three of the piles.} +That's three pounds we have now, Nora Burke. + +NORA +{Continuing in the same voice.} +And saying to myself another time, to look on Peggy Cavanagh, who +had the lightest hand at milking a cow that wouldn't be easy, or +turning a cake, and there she is now walking round on the roads, +or sitting in a dirty old house, with no teeth in her mouth, and +no sense and no more hair than you'ld see on a bit of a hill and +they after burning the furze from it. + +MICHEAL +That's five pounds and ten notes, a good sum, surely! . . . It's +not that way you'll be talking when you marry a young man, Nora +Burke, and they were saying in the fair my lambs were the best +lambs, and I got a grand price, for I'm no fool now at making a +bargain when my lambs are good. + +NORA +What was it you got? + +MICHEAL +Twenty pound for the lot, Nora Burke. . . . We'ld do right to +wait now till himself will be quiet awhile in the Seven Churches, +and then you'll marry me in the chapel of Rathvanna, and I'll +bring the sheep up on the bit of a hill you have on the back +mountain, and we won't have anything we'ld be afeard to let our +minds on when the mist is down. + +NORA +{Pouring him out some whisky.} +Why would I marry you, Mike Dara? You'll be getting old and I'll +be getting old, and in a little while I'm telling you, you'll be +sitting up in your bed -- the way himself was sitting -- with a +shake in your face, and your teeth falling, and the white hair +sticking out round you like an old bush where sheep do be +leaping a gap. + +{Dan Burke sits up noiselessly from under the sheet, with his +hand to his face. His white hair is sticking out round his +head.} + +NORA +{Goes on slowly without hearing him.} +It's a pitiful thing to be getting old, but it's a queer thing +surely. It's a queer thing to see an old man sitting up there in +his bed with no teeth in him, and a rough word in his mouth, +and his chin the way it would take the bark from the edge of an +oak board you'ld have building a door. . . . God forgive me, +Micheal Dara, we'll all be getting old, but it's a queer thing +surely. + +MICHEAL +It's too lonesome you are from living a long time with an old +man, Nora, and you're talking again like a herd that would be +coming down from the thick mist {he puts his arm round her}, but +it's a fine life you'll have now with a young man, a fine life +surely. . . . + +{Dan sneezes violently. Micheal tries to get to the door, but +before he can do so, Dan jumps out of the bed in queer white +clothes, with his stick in his hand, and goes over and puts his +back against it.} + +MICHEAL +Son of God deliver us. + +{Crosses himself, and goes backward across the room.} + +DAN +{Holding up his hand at him.} +Now you'll not marry her the time I'm rotting below in the Seven +Churches, and you'll see the thing I'll give you will follow you +on the back mountains when the wind is high. + +MICHEAL +{To Nora.} +Get me out of it, Nora, for the love of God. He always did what +you bid him, and I'm thinking he would do it now. + +NORA +{Looking at the Tramp.} +Is it dead he is or living? + +DAN +{Turning towards her.} +It's little you care if it's dead or living I am, but there'll be +an end now of your fine times, and all the talk you have of young +men and old men, and of the mist coming up or going down. {He +opens the door.} You'll walk out now from that door, Nora Burke, +and it's not to-morrow, or the next day, or any day of your life, +that you'll put in your foot through it again. + +TRAMP +{Standing up.} +It's a hard thing you're saying for an old man, master of the +house, and what would the like of her do if you put her out on +the roads? + +DAN +Let her walk round the like of Peggy Cavanagh below, and be +begging money at the cross-road, or selling songs to the men. +{To Nora.} Walk out now, Nora Burke, and it's soon you'll be +getting old with that life, I'm telling you; it's soon your +teeth'll be falling and your head'll be the like of a bush where +sheep do be leaping a gap. + +{He pauses: she looks round at Micheal.} + +MICHEAL +{Timidly.} +There's a fine Union below in Rathdrum. + +DAN +The like of her would never go there. . . . It's lonesome roads +she'll be going and hiding herself away till the end will come, +and they find her stretched like a dead sheep with the frost on +her, or the big spiders, maybe, and they putting their webs on +her, in the butt of a ditch. + +NORA +{Angrily.} +What way will yourself be that day, Daniel Burke? What way will +you be that day and you lying down a long while in your grave? +For it's bad you are living, and it's bad you'll be when you're +dead. {She looks at him a moment fiercely, then half turns away +and speaks plaintively again.} Yet, if it is itself, Daniel +Burke, who can help it at all, and let you be getting up into +your bed, and not be taking your death with the wind blowing on +you, and the rain with it, and you half in your skin. + +DAN +It's proud and happy you'ld be if I was getting my death the day +I was shut of yourself. {Pointing to the door.} Let you walk out +through that door, I'm telling you, and let you not be passing +this way if it's hungry you are, or wanting a bed. + +TRAMP +{Pointing to Micheal.} +Maybe himself would take her. + +NORA +What would he do with me now? + +TRAMP +Give you the half of a dry bed, and good food in your mouth. + +DAN +Is it a fool you think him, stranger, or is it a fool you were +born yourself? Let her walk out of that door, and let you go +along with her, stranger -- if it's raining itself -- for it's +too much talk you have surely. + +TRAMP +{Going over to Nora.} +We'll be going now, lady of the house -- the rain is falling, but +the air is kind and maybe it'll be a grand morning by the grace +of God. + +NORA +What good is a grand morning when I'm destroyed surely, and I +going out to get my death walking the roads? + +TRAMP +You'll not be getting your death with myself, lady of the house, +and I knowing all the ways a man can put food in his mouth. . . . +We'll be going now, I'm telling you, and the time you'll be +feeling the cold, and the frost, and the great rain, and the sun +again, and the south wind blowing in the glens, you'll not be +sitting up on a wet ditch, the way you're after sitting in the +place, making yourself old with looking on each day, and it +passing you by. You'll be saying one time, "It's a grand evening, +by the grace of God," and another time, "It's a wild night, God +help us, but it'll pass surely." You'll be saying-- + +DAN +{Goes over to them crying out impatiently.} +Go out of that door, I'm telling you, and do your blathering +below in the glen. + +{Nora gathers a few things into her shawl.} + +TRAMP +{At the door.} +Come along with me now, lady of the house, and it's not my +blather you'll be hearing only, but you'll be hearing the herons +crying out over the black lakes, and you'll be hearing the grouse +and the owls with them, and the larks and the big thrushes when +the days are warm, and it's not from the like of them you'll be +hearing a talk of getting old like Peggy Cavanagh, and losing the +hair off you, and the light of your eyes, but it's fine songs +you'll be hearing when the sun goes up, and there'll be no old +fellow wheezing, the like of a sick sheep, close to your ear. + +NORA +I'm thinking it's myself will be wheezing that time with lying +down under the Heavens when the night is cold; but you've a fine +bit of talk, stranger, and it's with yourself I'll go. + +{She goes towards the door, then turns to Dan.} You think it's a +grand thing you're after doing with your letting on to be dead, +but what is it at all? What way would a woman live in a lonesome +place the like of this place, and she not making a talk with the +men passing? And what way will yourself live from this day, with +none to care for you? What is it you'll have now but a black +life, Daniel Burke, and it's not long I'm telling you, till +you'll be lying again under that sheet, and you dead surely. + +{She goes out with the Tramp. Micheal is slinking after them, but +Dan stops him.} + +DAN +Sit down now and take a little taste of the stuff, Micheal Dara. +There's a great drouth on me, and the night is young. + +MICHEAL +{Coming back to the table.} +And it's very dry I am, surely, with the fear of death you put on +me, and I after driving mountain ewes since the turn of the day. + +DAN +{Throwing away his stick.} +I was thinking to strike you, Micheal Dara, but you're a quiet +man, God help you, and I don't mind you at all. + +{He pours out two glasses of whisky, and gives one to Micheal.} + +DAN +Your good health, Micheal Dara. + +MICHEAL +God reward you, Daniel Burke, and may you have a long life, and a +quiet life, and good health with it. +{They drink.} + +CURTAIN. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg etext of In the Shadow of the Glen by Synge + diff --git a/old/sglen10.zip b/old/sglen10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fe99d4b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/sglen10.zip |
