_The next day: The scene is as in previous Act. It is now in the
forenoon. Maire Hourican is seated at the fire in a listless attitude.
Anne is busy at the dresser. Maire rises_.
MAIRE
We shouldn't have stayed at Moynihan's so late.
ANNE
Indeed it would have been better to go home, but I was sure
that Brian MacConnell would come in.
MAIRE
Well, it was his own loss if he didn't come. Maybe there was
one there that I liked better.
ANNE
You couldn't have liked Connor Gilpatrick better than Brian
MacConnell.
MAIRE
Connor's the best-looking boy in the country. Was it noticed
that we were together often?
ANNE
_(significantly)_ Peggy Carroll noticed it.
MAIRE
Well, the boy was glad to talk to me. Connor's a good dancer,
and he has fine talk besides. If Brian MacConnell had come to the
door, I wouldn't have turned my head towards him.
ANNE
Sure, you wouldn't compare a young boy like Connor Gilpatrick
with Brian MacConnell?
MAIRE
I wouldn't have turned my head towards Brian. O! never expect kindness
from men. Why did you let me stay on? I'm afraid to look at myself
in the glass to-day. _(She goes over to the mirror)_ You were
hard on me, Anne, yesterday.
ANNE
I didn't like the way you talked to father.
MAIRE
I think I'm getting different to what I used to be. Well, I've
reason to be sorry for what I did yesterday. _(She is at window)_
Was Peggy Carroll vexed at the way I went on?
ANNE
She never took her eyes off the pair of you. You know she's
very fond of Connor.
MAIRE
Anne, never remind me of my foolishness, I'm heartsick of
myself to-day.
ANNE
I'll comb out your hair for you, and you'll look well enough.
MAIRE
Then you're expecting Brian MacConnell?
ANNE
It's likely he'll come in to see if there's anything to be done.
MAIRE
I suppose he'll come in. Gracious, how did father get out?
He's coming up the path.
ANNE
_(coming to Maire)_ Father's not up, surely? Maire, be easy
with Brian MacConnell when he comes in.
MAIRE
Father's coming up the path. Anne!
ANNE
What is it, Maire?
MAIRE
Father wasn't in at all, last night.
ANNE
Then he went to Flynn's, after all.
MAIRE
Ay, he went to Flynn's.
_She goes to Anne_.
ANNE
O Maire, what will become of us all?
MAIRE
I don't know.
_Maire goes to the settle, and sits down_.
ANNE
What will we do with him at all?
_Conn Hourican comes in_.
CONN
God save you! _(He looks around)_ Well, I came back to ye.
ANNE
You did, God help us! And we depending on you. It's the bad way
you always treated us.
CONN
Did you hear what happened to me, before you attack me?
ANNE
What happened to you? What always happens to you?
CONN
I wonder that a man comes in at all! The complaints against him
are like the Queen's Speech, prepared beforehand.
ANNE
Ever since I can remember, you treated us like that. Bringing
us into drinking-places and we little. It's well we got to know
anything, or got into the way of being mannerly at all.
CONN
You know too much. I always said that. Is James Moynihan coming
here to-day?
ANNE
No, he isn't coming here to-day.
CONN
Well, we can do without him. There's something to be done to-day.
I said I'd do the bit of mowing, and I was thinking of that all along.
_(He looks at Maire)_ Did you hear what happened to me, Maire?
MAIRE
It's no matter at all.
CONN
I went over to Flynn's, I may tell you.
ANNE
In troth we might have known that.
CONN
But did you hear what happened to me?
ANNE
How could we hear? It was Maire went to the door, and there you
were coming up the path; and we thinking you were in bed, resting
yourself.
CONN
I went over to Flynn's, but I had good reason for going there.
_(He puts the fiddle down on the table)_ Didn't you hear there were
Sligomen in the town, Maire? Well, one of them was in the way of
rewarding the prizes. I told you about the Feis; well, it's no
matter now, I'll say no more about that. At all events the man I
mentioned wanted to know what music was in the country, so he sent a
message to myself.
ANNE
_(as satirical as she can be)_ That was kind of him.
CONN
It was. I could do no less than go. I'll rest myself now, and
then get ready for the mowing. _(He goes to the room door; he turns
again and watches Maire)_ Maire, I'm sorry you weren't on the spot.
You might have advised me. I couldn't think of where you went or I'd
have followed you. I had to make haste.
MAIRE
It's no matter at all now.
CONN
I'll stretch myself on the bed before I begin work. Anne, did
you say you were leaving something in the room for me?
ANNE
I suppose I'll have to leave the tea in the room for you.
_She gets the tea ready. Maire remains motionless_.
CONN
Well, I have the pattern of daughters, anyway. I wouldn't give
this house for the praise of Ireland, no, not if they carried me on
their backs. _(Anne takes the tea up to the room)_ It's a pity you
weren't there, Maire, though of course I wouldn't bring you into
such a place. But they were decent fellows, decent, warm-hearted
fellows. If you were to see their faces when I played _An Chaitin
Donn_. I'll warrant they'll be whistling it, though they never heard
the tune before. And the manners they have! I offered the fiddle to
one of them. "No," says he, "not a string will I touch while the
master of us is here." That's something like the spirit. _(Maire has
turned to him and is attentive)_ But there, I won't fill myself up
with false music telling you about it all.
_He turns to the room_.
MAIRE
Bring up your fiddle.
CONN
_(taking fiddle and going towards room again)_ It will be as
good as sound sleeping for me. I'll never forget it. Flynn will
never forget it. It will be the making of Flynn.
_Maire rises_.
MAIRE
You've only your fiddle; we shouldn't forget that.
_Conn goes up to the room. Maire turns to the fire. Anne comes down_.
ANNE
O Maire, what will become of us at all?
MAIRE
He is very pleased with himself. He has only his fiddle, we
shouldn't forget that.
ANNE
It will be a long time till he does the like again.
MAIRE
It will be a long time, I suppose. Both of us might be in a
different house and have different cares.
ANNE
That would be terrible. I'll never leave him, Maire. MAIRE You
can't say the like now.
ANNE
Why?
MAIRE
How could you take such things upon you and life stretching
out before you? You're not young enough, Anne. Besides, it's not
what we say; it's what we feel. No, it's not what we feel either;
it's what grows up in us.
ANNE
He might never do the like again.
MAIRE
Many's the time mother said that, and she and me lying together.
ANNE
Will we ever get out of it, Maire?
_James enters_.
MAIRE
You have only a while to stay with us.
ANNE
O James, what will your father say if he hears of you giving us
another day?
JAMES
My father took a stick in his hand this morning, and went off
with himself.
MAIRE
You're welcome, James. It was a pleasant time we had in your
house last evening.
JAMES
I hope you liked the company, Maire. I'm afraid there was very
little to be called refined or scholarly, and the conversation at
times was homely enough. But we did our best, and we were proud to
see you.
MAIRE
Sit down, James.
_James sits on chair, near table. Maire is seated at fire, left of
James. Anne leans against table, right of him_.
JAMES
Your father is outside, maybe?
MAIRE
No. He's above in the room.
JAMES
Yes. Practising, I suppose. Them that have the gift have to
mind the gift. In this country there isn't much thought for poetry,
or music, or scholarship. Still, a few of us know that a while must
be spared from the world if we are to lay up riches in the mind.
ANNE
I hope there's nothing wrong at home?
JAMES
_(turning to Anne)_ To tell you the truth, Anne, and to keep
nothing back, there is.
MAIRE
And what is it, James?
JAMES
_(turning to Maire)_ Anne was talking to my father last night.
ANNE
Indeed I was, and I thought him very friendly to me.
JAMES
Ay, he liked you well enough, I can tell you that, Anne. This
morning when he took a stick in his hand, I knew he was making ready
for a journey, for the horse is laid up. "Walk down a bit with me,"
said he, "and we'll go over a few things that are in my mind." Well,
I walked down with him, and indeed we had a serious conversation.
ANNE
Well?
JAMES
"Anne Hourican is too young," said my father; "she's a nice
girl, and a good girl, but she's too young."
MAIRE
Sure in a while Anne will be twenty.
JAMES
_(turning to Maire)_ Ten years from this father would still
think Anne too young. And late marriages, as everybody knows, is the
real weakness of the country.
ANNE
I thought your father liked me.
JAMES
He likes you well enough, but, as he says, "what would she be
doing here and your sisters years older than herself?" There's truth
in that, mind you. I always give in to the truth.
MAIRE
James?
JAMES
_(turning to Maire)_ Well, Maire?
MAIRE
Is Anne a girl to be waiting twenty years for a man, like
Sally Cassidy?
JAMES
God forbid, Maire Hourican, that I'd ask your sister to wait
that length. MAIRE She hasn't got a fortune. We were brought up
different to farmers, and maybe we never gave thought to the like.
JAMES
She has what's better than a fortune.
MAIRE
Why aren't your sisters married off?
JAMES
Big fortunes are expected with them.
MAIRE
And they look to your wife to bring a big fortune into the
house?
JAMES
Ay, they do that.
MAIRE
You, James, ought to have some control in the house. You're
the only son. Your father is well off. Get him to fortune off your
sisters, and then bring Anne to the house.
JAMES
But how could I get father to fortune off the girls?
MAIRE
How? By wakening up. You have the right. When we have the right,
we ought to be able to do anything we like with the people around us.
JAMES
I give in to the truth of that, Maire.
MAIRE
What will come of you giving in to the truth of it? But sure
you ought to remember, Anne.
ANNE
_(taking James's hand)_ James has the good way with people.
MAIRE
Well, I suppose it will come out right for you in the end. You
are both very deserving. _(She rises)_ But some time or another we
have to take things into our own hands.
JAMES
Indeed that's true, Maire.
_Maire goes to back_.
ANNE
_(holding James's hand)_ Did you make any more songs, James?
JAMES
I have a song in my head since last night.
ANNE
The one in the paper is lovely. I know it by heart.
JAMES
The next I make will be ten times better.
_Conn Hourican comes down_.
CONN
I heard your voice, James, and I thought I'd come down. It's
very good of you to come here again. I'll be out with you to-day.
JAMES
It'll be a good day from this on. Were you practising above,
Mister Hourican?
CONN
Well, no, James, I wasn't practising. I was at a big gathering
last night, and my hands are unstrung like. We'll talk for a while,
and then I'll go out with you.
ANNE
_(taking James's arm)_ Come out with me for a minute, James.
JAMES
_(going off)_ I'll see you again, Mister Hourican.
_James and Anne go out_,
CONN
Well, God help us. _(He turns to go back to the room. Maire
comes down from back)_ Are you going out, Maire?
MAIRE
No, I'm staying here.
CONN
_(aggrieved)_ Do you mind them two, how they went out together.
I think I'll go out and see what's to be done about the place.
_Conn goes towards the entrance. Maire goes towards the fire_.
CONN
_(pausing at door)_ I broke my word to you, Maire.
MAIRE
I don't know what to say to you now.
CONN
It was the music and the strange faces that drew me.
MAIRE
I know that now.
CONN
It will be a long time till I break my word to you again.
MAIRE
I'll never ask for your word again.
CONN
_(warmly)_ I can tell you this, Maire. There's many's the place
in Ireland where Conn Hourican's word would be respected.
MAIRE
I'll never ask for your word again. You have only your fiddle,
and you must go among people that will praise you. When I heard you
talking of your listeners, I knew that. I was frightened before that.
When I saw you coming, I went and sat there, and I thought the walls
of the house were crowding in on me.
CONN
You were partly to blame, Maire. You left me there very lonesome.
MAIRE
I was to blame, I suppose. I should have treated you differently.
Well, I know you better now. Let you sit down and we'll talk together.
_(Conn sits on chair to right of table)_ What's to become of myself
I don't know. Anne and James Moynihan will marry, I hope. Neither of
us have fortunes, and for that reason our house should be well
spoken of.
CONN
Sure I know that. I wouldn't bring the shadow of a disgrace
near ye.
MAIRE
If the father isn't well spoken of, how could the house be
well spoken of? They're big drinkers that go to Flynn's, and it's
easy for the fiddler to get into the way of drinking.
CONN
I won't go to Flynn's when you put it that way.
MAIRE
I'll ask for no word. I'll let you know the real way of the
house, and then trust you.
CONN
You're a good girl, Maire. I should have been said by you.
MAIRE
From this out there will be dances at the schoolhouse and the
like of that. You could be playing at them. CONN None of the oul'
people go to the like, and the young don't understand me nor my ways.
God knows will I ever play again. That thought is often with me of
late, and it makes me very lonesome.
MAIRE
That's foolishness.
CONN
I was very lonesome when you left me. You don't know how I was
tempted, Maire. There was Brian MacConnell putting on his coat to go
to Flynn's, and talking of the Sligomen.
MAIRE
_(startled)_ And was it to Flynn's that Brian MacConnell went?
CONN
It was Brian that brought me to Flynn's.
MAIRE
Was it Brian MacConnell that brought you to Flynn's?
CONN
It was.
MAIRE
_(passionately)_ You must never go to Flynn's.
CONN
I'm ashamed of myself. Didn't I say that, Maire?
MAIRE
_(with hardness)_ You must never go again.
CONN
And is a man to have no life to himself?
MAIRE
That's talk just. It's time you thought of your own place and
your own children. It's time you gave up caring for the praise of
foolish people,
CONN
Foolish people, did you say?
MAIRE
Ay, foolish people. You had all your life to yourself, and you
went here and there, straying from place to place, and caring only
for the praise of foolish people.
CONN
God help you, if that's your way of thinking! Sure the world
knows that a man is born with the gift, and isn't the gift then the
sign of the grace of God? Foolish people, indeed! Them that know the
gift have some of the grace of God, no matter how poor they may be.
MAIRE
You're always thinking of them. You never think of your own.
Many's the time your own cried tears over your playing.
CONN
_(passionately, starting up)_ I'll go out of the house.
MAIRE
Let you stay here.
CONN
_(going towards entrance)_ I'll go out of the house, I tell you.
MAIRE
No.
_Conn goes over to the fire._
CONN
God help me that ever came into this country at all. _(He sits
down on the armchair, his hands resting on his stick)_ I had friends
once, and was well thought of; I can tell you that, my daughter.
MAIRE I know that. CONN Well, you can have your own way with me now.
MAIRE
Why can't you stay here? There's lots to be done here. Our
fields are a laughing-stock to the neighbours, they're that poor and
wasted. Let us put all our minds into working, and have a good place
of our own.
CONN
Ay, and the grabbers and informers of this place would think
well of you then.
MAIRE
Who do you call grabbers and informers?
CONN
The people of this place. The people _you_ want to shine before.
MAIRE
I don't want to shine before the people.
CONN
I'm not saying against you, Maire.
MAIRE
You're wrong in thinking I want to shine at all.
CONN
Sure you go to every dance and ceilidh; and to every house
where you can show off your face, and dancing, and conversation.
MAIRE
Do I? Maybe I do. Every girl does the like.
CONN
I'm not saying against it.
_Pause._
MAIRE
You think I'm like yourself, wanting the praise of the people.
CONN
And what's the harm if you do?
MAIRE
No harm at all. But I don't go to houses to show myself off.
CONN
Troth and you do, Maire.
_He rises and goes towards the entrance, and remains looking out_.
MAIRE
I won't believe it.
_She goes to the settle. Anne comes in. Anne goes to the glass to
fix her hair_.
CONN
Had you a good night at Moynihan's, Anne?
ANNE
A sort of a good night.
CONN
I was going to tell you about a man I met last night. He had a
song about your grandmother.
ANNE
Was grandmother a great beauty, father?
CONN
Honor Gilroy had good looks, and indeed she made the most of
them.
MAIRE
It's likely there was some to tell her that she was showing off.
CONN
No one was to her liking unless they praised her.
ANNE
Ah well, a fiddler ought to forgive that to a woman. MAIRE
Fiddlers and women are all alike, but don't say that to him.
_Anne goes to Maire and sits beside her_.
CONN
_(speaking to both)_ Well, Honor Gilroy wasn't the worst, maybe.
MAIRE
And fiddlers and women oughtn't be hard on each other.
CONN
Do you say that, Maire?
MAIRE
_(rising and going to him)_ I say it, father.
CONN
God forgive me if I vexed you, Maire.
ANNE
It's clearing up now, father, and you ought to go out to James.
_(Conn turns to the door. He remains in the doorway. Anne rises and
goes to Maire)_ What did you say to him?
MAIRE
_(looking at Conn)_ He doesn't feel it at all. Father will
always be the fiddler, no matter what we say.
ANNE
Maire. Come and talk to me. _(They sit at fire)_ I was talking
to James. He'll never be happy until we're under the one roof.
_Maire clasps Anne's hands passionately_.
MAIRE
_(with cry)_ Anne, daughter, I'll be very lonesome for you.
ANNE
But sure I won't be far off, Maire.
MAIRE
Ay, but it's terrible to face things alone.
_James has come to the door. Conn and James have been talking. They
turn in_.
CONN
But I'll be glad enough to have the scythe in my hands after it
all, James.
JAMES
Anne was telling me how you took the victory from Connaught.
CONN
Still I'm sorry for him! That poor Heffernan! He'll never hold
up his head again.
JAMES
Sure I'd have it in a ballad that would be sung in his own town.
It would be well worth putting into a ballad.
CONN
Well indeed, it would make a right good ballad, James.
JAMES
I'd like to make a ballad about it, that would be sung all
over Connaught.
CONN
And why wouldn't you do it, James Moynihan? Sure it would be
the making of you. It would be sung all over Ireland, and your name
to it. Do you hear that, Maire? Do you hear that, Anne?
JAMES
I'm saying that I'd like to do a ballad about your father's
victory.
CONN
Maybe you could have it this night week, James? ANNE Will it be
a poem or a ballad, James?
_Anne goes to him_.
CONN
If you had it this night week, we could bring the boys to the
place. What do you say to that, Maire? We'll bring the boys here
this night week to hear James Moynihan's ballad.
MAIRE
I was thinking of the Feis at Ardagh.
CONN
The Feis at Ardagh?
MAIRE
Maybe you'll be going to it this night week.
CONN
Sure you're not joking with me, Maire?
MAIRE
No.
_She rises_.
CONN
God forgive me, Maire, if I vexed you.
_Maire goes up to Conn's room_.
CONN
Anne, jewel, had Maire anything to say about Ardagh?
ANNE
We weren't talking about that at all.
JAMES
Play me a rouse on the fiddle and maybe the ballad will come
into my head.
_Maire comes down, a fiddle in her hands_.
MAIRE
Here's the fiddle that was your favourite, the Granard fiddle.
CONN
And this is the fiddle I'll bring with me to Ardagh.
ANNE
And is he going to Ardagh?
JAMES
And what about the ballad, Mister Hourican?
CONN
I leave it all to Maire now. How well she bethought of the
Granard fiddle.
MAIRE
Father, we were always together.
_She hands him the fiddle. Conn, Maire, James, Anne, are at table_.
CURTAIN
_ACT III_
_A week later: The scene is as in previous Acts. The table is near
entrance. It is laid for a meal. The time is near sunset. Conn
Hourican, Maire Hourican, and James Moynihan are seated at table.
Maire Hourican rises. She goes to entrance and remains looking out.
Conn and James go on eating_.
CONN
However it is, I could never play my best in this place. The
houses are too scattered, I often think. And it doesn't do for the
fiddler to remain too long in the one place. The people get too used
to him. Virgil made better songs than any man, but if Virgil was
sung in the fairs constant, divil much heed would be given to his
songs.
JAMES
Now, I often thought of that.
CONN
Another thing, James Moynihan, Ribbonism and the Land League
ruined the country.
_Maire goes out_.
JAMES
But sure we must be doing something for the Cause.
CONN
They were all Fenians here when I came into this country first,
over twenty years ago.
_He rises and goes into room_.
JAMES
Well, he's a great man, Conn Hourican. _(James rises and goes
to fire. Conn comes out of room, carrying a greatcoat)_ How do you
think you'll do at Ardagh?
CONN
I think I'll do very well at Ardagh, James.
_He leaves coat on settle_.
JAMES
Everything's ready for the start.
CONN
Ay, and it's near time for going. I'm playing very well lately,
James. It's the thought of being before people who'll know music. If
I was staying in this place any longer, James, I'd put my fiddle in
the thatch, and leave it there for the birds to pick holes in.
JAMES
But won't you be back here after the Feis at Ardagh?
CONN
Well, I will, for a while anyway.
JAMES And would you be going off again after a while?
CONN
I'm thinking that when my daughters are settled I'll have the
years before me. I was reared in a place south of this, and I'd like
to go back there for a while.
JAMES
But wouldn't you come back to us?
CONN
There's many's the place in Ireland that I never saw, town and
countryside. _(He takes the greatcoat off settle and puts it on him)_
Tell me, James Moynihan, is your father satisfied with the
settlement that Maire's making for yourself and Anne?
JAMES
My father is very well satisfied.
CONN
_(going towards his room)_ And so he ought to be, James Moynihan.
_Goes into his room_.
JAMES
My father had always a great liking for Anne. _(Anne comes out
of the other room. James Moynihan goes to her)_ May you never think,
Anne, that you made the bad choice when you took James Moynihan.
_They sit on settle_.
ANNE
Sure I was never fond of any one but yourself.
JAMES
And I never cared for any one after I saw you.
ANNE
I used to hear that you were fond of another girl.
JAMES
I was fond of the girl that used to be in the newspaper shop
in the town.
ANNE
And used you to talk with her?
JAMES
The elbows were worn out of my coat with leaning on the
counter to talk with her. But she married a policeman after that. He
was a friend of mine, too. It was me that got him the words and
music for "I'll hang my harp on a willow tree"--a song that he was
always looking for.
ANNE
Did you make any songs about the girl?
JAMES
I did not.
ANNE
Oh, James, I'm glad of that. I'm glad you made no songs about her.
JAMES
Are you content to marry me in the town of Ardagh, after the
Feis, as Maire wishes?
ANNE
It will be strange to be married in Ardagh, away from the
people I know.
JAMES
It will be lucky getting married after the Feis.
ANNE
James, it's a great trial for a girl to face marriage; but,
James, I'm very fond of you.
_James kisses her_.
JAMES
I don't know what to think of them writers who say that the
Irish girls haven't the heart for love.
ANNE
Is Maire outside?
JAMES
She went out.
ANNE
It's a wonder that Brian MacConnell isn't here before this.
_Anne rises. Maire comes in_.
ANNE
Is there no one coming here?
MAIRE
There is no one on the road.
ANNE
Brian MacConnell is late in coming.
_Maire comes up to the fire. Anne stands with her. James goes to
entrance, and remains looking out_.
MAIRE
I saw Brian yesterday.
ANNE
And did you tell him that you were going at the sunset?
MAIRE
I told him we were going in the evening.
ANNE
Maybe you were distant with Brian?
MAIRE
He looked like a man that something had happened to. Connor
Gilpatrick came up, and then I went away.
_Conn Hourican comes out of room. He has left the greatcoat in room.
He brings the fiddle with him. Maire and Anne go to the settle. They
talk._
JAMES
_(to Conn)_ What would you think of a row of trees planted
before the door?
_Conn leaves fiddle on dresser, and comes to him_.
CONN
They might be very becoming, James.
JAMES
My father was saying that the front looked very bare.
CONN
A row of trees, when they'd grow, would make a great difference.
JAMES
That's what my father was saying.
_They talk, Conn leaning on the half-door._
ANNE
I'm glad to be here. It would be very strange for me to be
married, and in another house.
MAIRE
I was thinking, Anne, that father and myself ought to stay a
while on the road, till you and James get settled here.
ANNE
Listen, Maire. James says that he'll be giving this place back
to you after a while. With this start he'll be able to get a house
and land near his father's place. He has fine schemes for making
this place prosperous. James, come here. _(James turns from door)_
Come here, James, and talk with Maire.
_James comes to girls, leaving Conn looking out. Maire rises._
JAMES
I'll make a path down to the road, and, with a row of trees
before the door, the place will be well worth looking at.
MAIRE
We won't know the place after a while.
JAMES
We can never forget, Maire, that it is to you that we owe the
place and the start in life.
MAIRE
I never looked on the place as my own.
JAMES
And now that the land is in Anne's name, my father will be
glad to stock the place.
MAIRE
You have all our will of the place. Father, speak to James and
tell him that he has your will of the place.
CONN
_(turning from door)_ Indeed you have, James, and we're overglad
to have Anne settled with a steady boy.
JAMES
Well, long life to you, Conn; and may the man of art never
want fame nor a friend.
CONN
_(going to dresser)_ Drink to that, James.
_He takes up a bottle and fills two glasses_.
JAMES
I never touch anything, Conn; but if Anne won't think bad of me,
I'll drink to your prosperity.
ANNE
I won't be watching you at all. _(She goes to door. To Maire)_
I'm going down the road, and if there's any one coming here, I'll
let you know.
_Anne goes out. James takes the glass from Conn_.
JAMES
Here's to the fiddler, first of all. May it be again like in
the days of Ireland's glory, when the men of art had their rights
and their dues.
_He drinks_.
CONN
Long life to yourself, James Moynihan. _(Conn drinks)_ I know
you a long time now, and I know nothing to your discredit. You're
one of the few people here that are to my liking. Well, if I'm
nothing to them, they're nothing to me. I lived my own life, and I
had the gift.
JAMES
_(with excitement)_ If Anne was here, I'd drink to her. I must
go after Anne. May she never repent of her choice. _(He goes to the
door, then turns round)_ But sure I'm forgetting the jewel of them
all, yourself, Maire Hourican. Long may you reign in splendour and
success, and in the wish of your heart.
_James Moynihan goes out. Conn Hourican goes back to the door, and
remains looking out. Maire stands at fire_.
CONN
It's strange to be looking across that door, and the sun
setting for our journey. And now we're letting the place go out of
our hands. Well, Honor Gilroy's bit of land has been brought to a
great many people.
_He comes down to dresser. Maire goes up to window, and remains
looking out_.
CONN
Is there any one coming here, Maire?
MAIRE
There is no one coming. It's no wonder James's father thought
the place was bare-looking.
CONN
Well, the bit of land is going to James, and I was saying that
it has been brought to a great many people.
_Maire takes paper out, and looks at it_.
CONN
What paper is that, Maire?
MAIRE
It's a paper that I have to put my name to. _(She goes and
sits at table)_ There's a pen and ink near your hand on the dresser,
and you might give them to me. It's about giving this place to Anne,
and James's father wants my name on the paper.
CONN
Well, isn't James's father the councillor, with his paper and
his signing? _(He brings pen and ink from dresser, and leaves them
on table. Maire makes preparations for writing. Conn lights candle
at fire, and brings it over to table)_ And does that give the place
to Anne for ever?
MAIRE
It gives it to herself. _(Maire signs the paper with the
slowness of one unaccustomed to writing)_ It will be a great change
for us when we come back to this place.
CONN
_(going to chair at fire)_ It will be a great change for you
and me, no matter what we say.
MAIRE
And now that James's father is putting stock on the land, the
Moynihans will have great call to the place.
CONN
Maire, your father is thinking of taking to the road.
MAIRE
And how long would you be staying on the roads?
CONN
Ah, what is there to bring me back to this country, Maire?
MAIRE
Sure you're not thinking of going on the roads altogether?
CONN
The road for the fiddler.
MAIRE
Would you leave the shelter and the settled life? Would you go
on the road by yourself?
CONN
Anne and yourself will be settled, and I'll have the years before me.
MAIRE
Then you'd go on the roads by yourself?
CONN
Sure I did it before, Maire.
MAIRE
Ah, but do you not remember the prayers that mother used to
say for us to get some shelter? Do you not remember how proud and
glad we were when we come by a place of our own?
CONN
The shelter was for Anne and yourself. What had I to do with it?
MAIRE
The Moynihans are not the sort to make us feel strangers in
the place.
CONN
The place was your own, Maire, and you gave it to your sister
rather than see her waiting years and years.
MAIRE
I came to give it to her after I saw how hard I was on yourself.
CONN
Listen, my jewel, even if the Moynihans had nothing to do with
the place, what would Conn Hourican the fiddler be doing in this
country?
MAIRE
Ah, there are many you might play to; there are lots that know
about music. There's Michael Gilpatrick and John Molloy--
CONN
And that's all, Maire. MAIRE You might go to Flynn's an odd time.
CONN
And what do they know about music in Flynn's? Young Corney
Myles was up there a while ago, and you'd think, from what the men
said, that there was never the like of Corney for playing, and the
boy isn't three years at the fiddle,
MAIRE
Father, stay here where the shelter is.
CONN
Sure, I'd be getting ould, and staying in the chimney-corner,
with no one to talk to me, for you'd be going to a place of your own,
and Anne? after a while, would have too much to mind.
MAIRE
The people here are kinder than you think.
CONN
But what has Conn Hourican to do with them anyhow? The very
greatest were glad of my playing, and were proud to know me.
MAIRE
I know that, father.
CONN
Well, one is always meeting new life upon the roads, and I want
to spend the years I have before me going from place to place.
MAIRE
_(going to him)_ If you took to the roads, I'd think I ought
to go with you, for we were always together.
CONN
Ah, Maire, there are some that would keep you here.
MAIRE
Do you know who would keep me here?
CONN
Brian MacConnell is very fond of you.
MAIRE
Do you know that, father?
CONN
And I know that you are fond of Brian. _(There is no answer)_
That my jewel may have luck and prosperity. _(Goes towards room door,
leaving Maire standing there)_ I'll be taking this fiddle, Maire.
MAIRE
Oh, are we going on the roads?
CONN
To Ardagh, Maire.
MAIRE
To Ardagh.
CONN
I'll go up now, and make ready.
_He takes candle off table, and goes back towards room door._
MAIRE
Oh, what do I know about Brian MacConnell, after all?
CONN
Brian is wild, but he is free-handed.
MAIRE
Wild and free-handed! Are all men like that? Wild and
free-handed! But that's not the sort of man I want to look to now.
CONN
That's nothing to Brian's discredit. MAIRE Ah, what do I know
about Brian MacConnell, except that he's a man of quarrels and
broken words?
_Conn holds up his hand warningly. Brian MacConnell comes to door_.
CONN
_(opening half-door)_ You're welcome, Brian.
BRIAN
Thank you for the good word, Conn.
_He comes in_.
MAIRE
You're welcome, Brian MacConnell.
CONN
_(taking candle off dresser)_ I was going up to the room to
make ready, but Maire will be glad to speak to you. I knew you
wouldn't let us go without wishing us the luck of the road.
_Goes up to room. Maire goes and sits on settle_.
MAIRE
Brian MacConnell has come to us again.
BRIAN
I'm before you again. Let me tell you what I was doing since I
was here last.
MAIRE
What were you doing, Brian? Making quarrels, may be?
BRIAN
_(startled)_ Why do you say that?
MAIRE
I'm thinking that you were doing what would become you, Brian
MacConnell, with the free hand and the wild heart.
BRIAN
They were telling you about me?
MAIRE
I know you, Brian MacConnell.
BRIAN
You don't know how I care for you, or you couldn't talk to me
like that. Many's the time I left the spade in the ground, and went
across the bogs and the rushes, to think of you. You come between me
and the work I'd be doing. Ay, and if Heaven opened out before me,
you would come between me and Heaven itself.
MAIRE
It's easy taking a girl's heart.
BRIAN
And I long to have more than walls and a roof to offer you.
I'd have jewels and gold for you. I'd have ships on the sea for you.
MAIRE
It's easy to take a girl's heart with the words of a song.
BRIAN
I'm building a house for you, Maire. I'm raising it day by day.
MAIRE
You left me long by myself.
BRIAN
It's often I came to see the light in the window.
MAIRE
Brian, my father wants to go back to the roads.
_Brian goes and sits by her_.
BRIAN
I know that Conn would like to go back.
MAIRE
He wants to go on the roads, to go by himself from place to
place.
BRIAN
Maybe he has the right to go.
MAIRE
He has the right to go. It's the life of a fiddler to be on
the roads.
BRIAN
But you won't go on the roads.
MAIRE
Oh, what am I to do, Brian?
BRIAN
Do you think of me at all, Maire?
MAIRE
Indeed I think of you. Until to-day I'd neither laugh nor cry
but on account of you.
BRIAN
I'm building a house, and it will be white and fine, and it's
for you that I'm building the house.
MAIRE
You're going to ask for my promise.
BRIAN
Give me your promise before you go to Ardagh.
_Maire rises_.
MAIRE
If I gave you my promise now, I'd have great delight in coming
back to this place again.
BRIAN
You won't deny me, my jewel of love?
MAIRE
Oh, I'm very fond of Aughnalee. I feel that I was reared in
the place. I'd like to live all my life in the place.
BRIAN
And why would you go from it? MAIRE You might come with us to
Ardagh, Brian.
BRIAN
Your father might stay with us when he'd be in this country.
MAIRE
That's true; I'm glad to think on that.
BRIAN
Give me your promise, Maire.
MAIRE
We'll talk on the road. There's the blackbird. I'll hear him
every evening on the road, and I'll think I'm a day nearer home.
BRIAN
Sure you'd leave them all to come with me.
MAIRE
Ay, I think I would. _(She takes up a new kerchief, and puts
it on her, standing before the mirror)_ Do you know where I saw you
first, Brian?
BRIAN
Where was it, Maire?
MAIRE
In a field by the road. You were breaking a horse.
BRIAN
I was always a good hand with a horse.
MAIRE
The poor beast was covered with foam and sweat, and at last
you made it still. I thought it was grand then.
_She sings_.
I know where I'm going,
I know who's going with me,
I know who I love,
But the dear knows who I'll marry.
Are your brothers with you, Brian?
BRIAN
Is it building with me?
MAIRE
Building with you?
_She sings_.
Some say he's dark,
I say he's bonny.
He's the flower of the flock,
My charming, coaxing Johnny.
BRIAN
_(with sombre passion)_ No. My brothers are not with me. I
quarrelled with them all and I am nearly heart broken for what I did.
MAIRE
Ah, Brian MacConnell, I don't know what to say to you at all.
BRIAN
You'll give me your promise, Maire?
MAIRE
Promise. I've no promise to give to any man.
BRIAN
Remember that these days past I had only yourself to think on.
MAIRE
There was never a man but failed me some time. They all leave
me to face the world alone.
BRIAN
You said that I might go with you as far as Ardagh.
MAIRE
No. You're not to come. Myself and my father go to Ardagh by
ourselves.
BRIAN
How was I to know that you would take that quarrel to heart?
MAIRE
I thought you were strong, but I see now that you are only a
man who forces himself to harsh behaviour. I have my own way to go;
my father wants to go back to the roads, and it's right that I
should be with him, to watch over him.
BRIAN
What shelter will you have on the road?
MAIRE
I'll have the quiet of evening, and my own thoughts, and I'll
follow the music; I'll laugh and hold up my head again.
BRIAN
Maire Hourican, would you leave me?
MAIRE
What can I do for you, Brian MacConnell?
_Brian goes to settle, and puts his hands before his eyes. She goes
to him_.
BRIAN
You have thought for your father, and you have no thought for me.
MAIRE
Indeed I have thought for you.
BRIAN
O Maire, my jewel, do you care for me at all?
_She kisses him_.
BRIAN
Maire!
_She rises_.
MAIRE
I'm going to call my father.
BRIAN
You go to him, and you go from me.
MAIRE
You are both my care: my father and yourself.
BRIAN
What will become of me when you go?
MAIRE
Isn't it right, Brian, that I should be with my father on the
roads? Even if I was in your house, I would be thinking that I
should watch over him.
BRIAN
Then it's good-bye you'd be saying?
MAIRE
Good-bye, Brian MacConnell.
BRIAN
_(at door)_ Good-bye, Maire Hourican; gold and jewels, ships
on the sea, may you have them all.
_He goes out. With a cry Maire follows him to the door. She stands
before door for a minute, then she goes back to table, and throwing
herself down, remains with her head buried in her hands. James
Moynihan comes in. Maire raises her head, and remains looking before
her. James comes to table, and puts flowers beside Maire_.
JAMES
We gathered them for you, Maire. They're the woodbine. We were
saying that you would be glad of the flower of the road. _(Maire
puts her hand on the flowers. James goes to the fire)_ Anne remembers
a good deal about the road. She minds of the grassy ditches, where
the two of you used to catch the young birds.
MAIRE
I mind of them too.
JAMES
And the women that used to be with your mother, that used to
tell you the stories.
MAIRE
And the things we used to talk about after a story! There's
the turn of the road, and who's waiting for you? If it's your
sweetheart, what will you say to him?
JAMES
I'm often taken with the thought of the road! Going to the
fair on a bright morning, I'd often wish to leave everything aside
and follow the road.
_A fiddle is heard outside. Conn Hourican comes down, dressed for
the road. He has on the greatcoat. He carries fiddle. He puts fiddle
on dresser_.
CONN
What music is that, James?
JAMES
Some of the boys are coming to meet you, and they have a
fiddle with them.
CONN
Well, now, that's friendly of the boys.
JAMES
I'll go out now, and let them know that you're coming. _(He goes
to door)_ Brian MacConnell turned the other way, and Anne
went after him.
_He goes out_.
CONN
_(anxiously)_ Why did Brian MacConnell go away?
MAIRE
We didn't agree; no, not after all you said.
CONN
Maybe we'll see Brian at Ardagh.
MAIRE
How would he ever come back when I bid him go from me?
CONN
You bid Brian go from you! _(He goes to the window)_ And there
was myself that had the mind to go on the road that I see stretched
out before me.
MAIRE
_(going to him)_ You need never come back here.
CONN
I'll come back with yourself.
MAIRE
I remember the time when we were on the roads. I remember
sights we used to see! Little towns here, and big towns far away,
and always the road.
CONN
And the lasting kindness of the road!
MAIRE
There is no need for you to come back here, father.
CONN
And would you follow the road?
MAIRE
Go back to the fiddler's life, and I'll go back with you. Well
see Anne and James at Ardagh, and we'll be at their marriage.
_(She turns round as though to take farewell of the house)_ It's
right that this place should go to Anne. The house wasn't for you,
and it wasn't for me either, I begin to think.
_Anne comes in_.
ANNE
_(with a cry)_ Maire, you are going on the roads!
MAIRE
How do you know that?
ANNE
You bid Brian MacConnell go from you, and where else would you
go but on the roads?
_She goes to the settle and throws herself down, her hands before
her face. Maire puts cloak on. Conn goes to Anne. He takes her hands
from her face and holds them_.
CONN
Don't be grieving that we're going from you, Anne. When you
come back here again, your own care will begin. I know that you
grieve for Maire going from you, and my own heart is unquiet for her.
_(He goes to dresser, takes fiddle and wraps it up. He puts hat on.
Maire goes to settle, and sits beside Anne)_ Well, here's Conn
Hourican the fiddler going on his travels again. No man knows how
his own life will end; but them who have the gift have to follow the
gift. I'm leaving this house behind me; and maybe the time will come
when I'll be climbing the hills and seeing this little house with
the tears in my eyes. I'm leaving the land behind me, too; but
what's land after all against the music that comes from the far,
strange places, when the night is on the ground, and the bird in the
grass is quiet?
_The fiddle is heard again. Conn Hourican goes to door. Maire
embraces Anne again, rises and goes to door. Anne follows slowly.
Conn goes out. Maire turns to Anne_.
MAIRE
Tell Brian MacConnell that when we meet again maybe we can be
kinder to each other.
_Maire Hourican goes out with Conn. Anne is left standing at the
door in the dusk_.
_END OF PLAY_
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE was first produced on 21st March, 1907, by the
Theatre of Ireland, in the Rotunda, Dublin, with the following cast:
--
CONN HOURICAN Joseph Goggin
MAIRE HOURICAN Maire MacShiubhlaigh
ANNE HOURICAN Eileen O'Doherty
BRIAN MACCONNELL Ed. Keegan
JAMES MOYNIHAN P. MacShiubhlaigh.
_THE LAND:
AN AGRARIAN COMEDY IN THREE ACTS_
CHARACTERS
MURTAGH COSGAR, a farmer
MATT, his son
SALLY, his daughter
MARTIN DOURAS, a farmer
CORNELIUS, his son
ELLEN, his daughter
A group of men,
A group of boys and girls.
The scene is laid in the Irish Midlands, present time.
_ACT I_
_The interior of Murtagh Cosgar's. It is a large flagged kitchen
with the entrance on the right. The dresser is below the entrance.
There is a large fireplace in the back, and a room door to the left
of the fireplace; the harness-rack is between room door and fireplace.
The yard door is on the left. The table is down from the room door.
There are benches around fireplace_.
_It is the afternoon of a May day. Sally Cosgar is kneeling, near
the entrance chopping up cabbage-leaves with a kitchen-knife. She is
a girl of twenty-five, dark, heavily built, with the expression of a
half-awakened creature. She is coarsely dressed, and has a sacking
apron. She is quick at work, and rapid and impetuous in speech. She
is talking to herself_.
SALLY
Oh, you may go on grunting, yourself and your litter, it won't
put me a bit past my own time. You oul' black baste of a sow, sure
I'm slaving to you all the spring. We'll be getting rid of yourself
and your litter soon enough, and may the devil get you when we lose
you.
_Cornelius comes to the door. He is a tall young man with a slight
stoop. His manners are solemn, and his expression somewhat vacant_.
CORNELIUS
Good morrow, Sally. May you have the good of the day.
_(He comes in)_
SALLY
_(impetuously)_ Ah, God reward you, Cornelius Douras, for
coming in. I'm that busy keeping food to a sow and a litter of pigs
that I couldn't get beyond the gate to see any one.
CORNELIUS
_(solemnly)_ You're a good girl, Sally. You're not like
some I know. There are girls in this parish who never put hands to a
thing till evening, when the boys do be coming in. Then they begin
to stir themselves the way they'll be thought busy and good about a
house.
SALLY
_(pleased and beginning to chop again with renewed energy)_ Oh,
it's true indeed for you, Cornelius. There are girls that be decking
themselves, and sporting are themselves all day.
CORNELIUS
I may say that I come over to your father's, Murtagh
Cosgar's house, this morning, thinking to meet the men.
SALLY
What men, Cornelius Douras?
CORNELIUS
Them that are going to meet the landlord's people with an
offer for the land. We're not buying ourselves, unfortunately, but
this is a great day--the day of the redemption, my father calls
it--and I'd like to have some hand in the work if it was only to say
a few words to the men.
SALLY
It's a wonder Martin, your father isn't on the one errand with
you.
CORNELIUS
We came out together, but the priest stopped father and us
on the road. Father Bartley wanted his advice, I suppose. Ah, it's a
pity the men won't have some one like my father with them! He was in
gaol for the Cause. Besides, he's a well-discoursed man, and a
reading man, and, moreover, a man with a classical knowledge of
English, Latin, and the Hibernian vernacular.
_Martin Douras comes in. He is a man of about sixty, with a refined,
scholarly look. His manner is subdued and nervous. He has a stoop,
and is clean-shaven._
CORNELIUS
I was just telling Sally here what a great day it is,
father.
MARTIN DOURAS
Ay, it's a great day, no matter what our own troubles
may be. I should be going home again. _(He takes a newspaper out of
his pocket, and leaves it on the table)_
CORNELIUS
Wait for the men, father.
MARTIN DOURAS
Maybe they'll be here soon. Is Murtagh in, Sally?
_Cornelius takes the paper up, and begins to read it_.
SALLY
He's down at the bottoms, Martin.
MARTIN DOURAS
He's going to Arvach Fair, maybe.
SALLY
He is in troth.
MARTIN DOURAS
I'll be asking him for a lift. He'll be going to the
Fair when he come back from the lawyer's, I suppose?
Ay, he'll be going to-night. _(She gathers the chopped cabbage
into her apron, and goes to the door)_
SALLY
_(at the door)_ Cornelius.
_Cornelius puts down the paper, and goes to the door. Sally goes out_.
MARTIN DOURAS
Cornelius!
_Cornelius goes to Martin_.
SALLY
_(outside)_ Cornelius, give me a hand with this.
_Cornelius turns again_.
MARTIN DOURAS
Cornelius, I want to speak to you.
_Cornelius goes to him_.
MARTIN DOURAS
There is something on my mind, Cornelius.
CORNELIUS
What is it, father?
MARTIN DOURAS
It's about our Ellen. Father Bartley gave me news for her.
"I've heard of a school that'll suit Ellen," says he. "It's in
the County Leitrim."
CORNELIUS
If it was in Dublin itself, Ellen is qualified to take it
on. And won't it be grand to have one of our family teaching in a
school?
MARTIN DOURAS
_(with a sigh)_ I wouldn't stand in her way, Cornelius;
I wouldn't stand in her way. But won't it be a poor thing for an old
man like me to have no one to discourse with in the long evenings?
For when I'm talking with you, Cornelius, I feel like a boy who
lends back all the marbles he's won, and plays again, just for the
sake of the game.
CORNELIUS
We were in dread of Ellen going to America at one time,
and then she went in for the school. Now Matt Cosgar may keep her
from the school. Maybe we won't have to go further than this house
to see Ellen.
MARTIN DOURAS
I'm hoping it'll be like that; but I'm in dread that
Murtagh Cosgar will never agree to it. He's a hard man to deal with.
Still Murtagh and myself will be on the long road to-night, and we
might talk of it. I'm afeard of Ellen going.
CORNELIUS
_(at the door)_ It's herself that's coming here, father.
MARTIN DOURAS
Maybe she has heard the news and is coming to tell us.
_Ellen comes in. She has a shawl over her head which she lays aside.
She is about twenty-five, slightly built, nervous, emotional_.
ELLEN
Is it only ourselves that's here?
MARTIN DOURAS
Only ourselves. Did you get any news to bring you over, Ellen?
ELLEN
No news. It was the shine of the day that brought me out; and
I was thinking, too, of the girls that are going to America in the
morning, and that made me restless.
_Martin and Cornelius look significantly at each other_.
MARTIN DOURAS
And did you see Matt, Ellen?
ELLEN
He was in the field and I coming up; but I did not wait for him,
as I don't want people to see us together. _(Restlessly)_ I don't
know how I can come into this house, for it's always like Murtagh
Cosgar. There's nothing of Matt in it at all. If Matt would come away.
There are little labourers' houses by the side of the road. Many's
the farmer's son became a labourer for the sake of a woman he cared
for!
CORNELIUS
And are you not thinking about the school at all, Ellen?
ELLEN
I'll hear about it some time, I suppose.
MARTIN DOURAS
You're right to take it that way, Ellen. School doesn't mean
scholarship now. Many's the time I'm telling Cornelius that a
man farming the land, with a few books on his shelf and a few
books in his head, has more of the scholar's life about him than the
young fellows who do be teaching in schools and teaching in colleges.
CORNELIUS
That's all very well, father. School and scholarship isn't
the one. But think of the word "Constantinople!" I could leave off
herding and digging every time I think on that word!
MARTIN DOURAS
Ah, it's a great word. A word like that would make you
think for days. And there are many words like that.
ELLEN
It's not so much the long words that we've to learn and teach
now. When will you be home, father? Will Cornelius be with you?
MARTIN DOURAS
Ellen, I have news for you. There is a school in
Leitrim that Father Bartley can let you have.
ELLEN
In Leitrim! Did you tell Matt about it?
MARTIN DOURAS
I did not.
_Sally is heard calling "Cornelius." Cornelius goes to the door._
CORNELIUS
Here's Matt now. The benefit of the day to you, Matt.
_He stands aside to let Matt enter. Matt Cosgar is a young peasant
of about twenty-eight. He is handsome and well-built. He is dressed
in a trousers, shirt, and coat, and has a felt hat on. Cornelius
goes out._
MATT
_(going to Ellen)_ You're welcome, Ellen. Good morrow, Martin.
It's a great day for the purchase, Martin.
MARTIN DOURAS
A great day, indeed, thank God.
MATT
Ah, it's a great thing to feel the ownership of the land, Martin.
MARTIN DOURAS
I don't doubt but it is.
MATT
Look at the young apple-trees, Ellen. Walking up this morning,
I felt as glad of them as a young man would be glad of the
sweetheart he saw coming towards him.
ELLEN
Ay, there's great gladness and shine in the day.
MATT
It seems to trouble you.
ELLEN
It does trouble me.
MATT
Why?
ELLEN
Everything seems to be saying, "There's something here,
there's something going."
MATT
Ay, a day like this often makes you feel that way. It's a great
day for the purchase though. How many years ought we to offer, Ellen?
_Martin goes out_.
ELLEN
Twenty years, I suppose---_(suddenly)_ Matt!
MATT
What is it, Ellen?
ELLEN
I have got an offer of a school in the County Leitrim.
MATT
I wish they'd wait, Ellen. I wish they'd wait till I had
something to offer you.
ELLEN
I'm a long time waiting here, Matt.
MATT
Sure we're both young.
ELLEN
This is summer now. There will be autumn in a month or two.
The year will have gone by without bringing me anything.
MATT
He'll be letting me have my own way soon, my father will.
ELLEN
Murtagh Cosgar never let a child of his have their own way.
MATT
When the land's bought out, he'll be easier to deal with.
ELLEN
When he owns the land, he'll never let a son of his marry a
girl without land or fortune.
MATT
Ellen, Ellen, I'd lose house and land for you. Sure you know
that, Ellen. My brothers and sisters took their freedom. They went
from this house and away to the ends of the world. Maybe I don't
differ from them so much. But I've put my work into the land, and
I'm beginning to know the land. I won't lose it, Ellen. Neither will
I lose you.
ELLEN
O Matt, what's the land after all? Do you ever think of America?
The streets, the shops, the throngs?
MATT
The land is better than that when you come to know it, Ellen.
ELLEN
May be it is.
MATT
I've set my heart on a new house. Ay and he'll build one for us
when he knows my mind.
ELLEN
Do you think he'd build a new house for us, Matt? I could
settle down if we were by ourselves. Maybe it's true that there are
things stirring and we could begin a new life, even here.
MATT
We can, Ellen, we can. Hush! father's without.
_Martin Douras and Murtagh Cosgar are heard exchanging greetings.
Then Murtagh comes in, Martin behind him. Murtagh Cosgar is about
sixty. He is a hard, strong man, seldom-spoken, but with a flow of
words and some satirical power. He is still powerful, mentally and
physically. He is clean shaven, and wears a sleeved waistcoat, heavy
boots, fell hat. He goes towards Ellen._
MURTAGH
Good morrow to you. _(Turning to Matt)_ When I get speaking
to that Sally again, she'll remember what I say. Giving cabbage to
the pigs, and all the bad potatoes in the house. And I had to get up
in the clouds of the night to turn the cows out of the young meadow.
No thought, no care about me. Let you take the harness outside and
put a thong where there's a strain in it.
_Murtagh goes to the fire. Matt goes to the harness-rack. Martin
Douras and Ellen are at the door._
MARTIN DOURAS
Ellen, I'll have news for you when I see you again.
I've made up my mind to that.
ELLEN
Are you going to the fair, father?
MARTIN DOURAS
Ay, with Murtagh.
ELLEN
God be with you, father. _(She goes out)_
MARTIN DOURAS
What purchase are you thinking of offering, Murtagh?
MURTAGH COSGAR
Twenty years.
MARTIN DOURAS
It's fair enough. Oh, it's a great day for the country,
no matter what our own troubles may be.
_Matt has taken down the harness. He takes some of it up and goes
out to yard._
MURTAGH COSGAR
_(with some contempt)_ It's a pity you haven't a share
in the day after all.
MARTIN DOURAS
Ay, it's a pity indeed.
_Murtagh goes to the door._
MURTAGH COSGAR
_(with suppressed enthusiasm)_ From this day out
we're planted in the soil.
MARTIN DOURAS
Ay, we're planted in the soil.
MURTAGH COSGAR
God, it's a great day.
_Cornelius comes back._
CORNELIUS
This is a memorial occasion, Murtagh Cosgar, and I wish
you the felicitations of it. I met the delegates and I coming in,
and I put myself at the head of them. It's the day of the redemption,
Murtagh Cosgar.
_Murtagh, without speaking, goes up to the room._
CORNELIUS
He's gone up to get the papers. Father, we must give the
men understanding for this business. They must demand the mineral
rights. Here they are. Men of Ballykillduff, I greet your entrance.
_Six men enter discussing._
FIRST
MAN We'll leave it to Murtagh Cosgar. Murtagh Cosgar isn't a
grazier or a shopkeeper.
SECOND MAN
It's the graziers and shopkeepers that are putting a
business head on this.
THIRD MAN
If we're all on the one offer, we can settle it at the
lawyer's.
FOURTH MAN
Sure it's settled for twenty years on the first-term rents.
FIFTH MAN
There are some here that would let it go as high as
twenty-three.
SIXTH MAN
What does Murtagh Cosgar say?
SOME OF THE MEN
Well take the word from him.
MARTIN DOURAS
He mentioned twenty years.
SECOND MAN
Not as a limit, surely?
OTHER MEN
We're not for any higher offer.
SECOND MAN
Well, men, this is all I have to say. If you can get it
for twenty, take it, and my blessing with it. But I want to be
dealing with the Government, and not with landlords and agents. To
have a straight bargain between myself and the Government, I'd put it
up to twenty-three, ay, up to twenty-five years' purchase.
THIRD MAN
More power to you, Councillor. There's some sense in that.
SIXTH MAN
I'm with the Councillor.
FIRST MAN
It's all very well for graziers and shopkeepers to talk, but what
about the small farmer?
FOURTH MAN
The small farmer. That's the man that goes under.
FIFTH MAN
_(knocking at the table)_ Murtagh Cosgar! Murtagh Cosgar!
CORNELIUS
I tell you, men, that Murtagh Cosgar is in agreement with myself.
Twenty years, I say, first term, no more. Let my father speak.
MARTIN DOURAS
There's a great deal to be said on both sides, men.
FIRST MAN
Here's Murtagh now.
MURTAGH COSGAR
Twenty years first term, that's what I agreed to.
SECOND MAN
And if they don't rise to that, Murtagh?
MURTAGH COSGAR
Let them wait. We can wait. I won't be going with you, men. I had a
few words with the agent about the turbary this morning, and maybe
you're better without me.
FIRST MAN
All right, Murtagh. We can wait.
FOURTH MAN
We know our own power now.
FIFTH MAN
Come on, men.
MURTAGH COSGAR
If they don't rise to it, bide a while. We can make a new offer.
SECOND MAN
We want to be settled by the Fall.
THIRD MAN
The Councillor is right. We must be settled by the Fall.
SIXTH MAN
A man who's a farmer only has little sense for a business like this.
SECOND MAN
We'll make the offer, Murtagh Cosgar, and bide a while. But we must
be settled this side of the Fall. We'll offer twenty years first term.
MURTAGH COSGAR
Do, and God speed you.
CORNELIUS _(to the men going out)_
I told you Murtagh Cosgar and myself are on the one offer. And
Murtagh is right again when he says that you can bide your time. But
make sure of the mineral rights, men; make sure of the mineral rights.
_The men go out; Cornelius follows them._
MURTAGH COSGAR
_(with irony)_ Musha, but that's a well-discoursed lad. It must
be great to hear the two of you at it.
MARTIN DOURAS
God be good to Cornelius. There's little of the world's harm in the
boy.
MURTAGH COSGAR
He and my Sally would make a great match of it. She's a bright one,
too.
MARTIN DOURAS
Murtagh Cosgar, have you no feeling for your own flesh and blood?
MURTAGH COSGAR
Too much feeling, maybe. _(He stands at the door in silence. With
sudden enthusiasm)_ Ah, but that's the sight to fill one's heart.
Lands ploughed and spread. And all our own; all our own.
MARTIN DOURAS
All our own, ay. But we made a hard fight for them.
MURTAGH COSGAR
Ay.
MARTIN DOURAS
Them that come after us will never see them as we're seeing them now.
MURTAGH COSGAR
_(turning round)_ Them that come after us. Isn't that a great thought,
Martin Douras? and isn't it a great thing that we're able to pass this
land on to them, and it redeemed for ever? Ay, and their manhood spared
the shame that our manhood knew. Standing in the rain with our hats off
to let a landlord--ay, or a landlord's dog-boy--pass the way!
MARTIN DOURAS
_(mournfully)_ May it be our own generation that will be in it. Ay,
but the young are going fast; the young are going fast.
MURTAGH COSGAR
_(sternly)_ Some of them are no loss.
MARTIN DOURAS
Ten of your own children went, Murtagh Cosgar.
MURTAGH COSGAR
I never think of them. When they went from my control, they went
from me altogether. There's the more for Matt.
MARTIN DOURAS
_(moistening his mouth, and beginning very nervously)_ Ay, Matt.
Matt's a good lad.
MURTAGH COSGAR
There's little fear of him leaving now.
MARTIN DOURAS _(nervously)_
Maybe, maybe. But, mind you, Murtagh Cosgar, there are
things--little things, mind you. Least, ways, what we call little
things. And, after all, who are we to judge whether a thing--
MURTAGH COSGAR
Is there anything on your mind, Martin Douras?
MARTIN DOURAS
_(hurriedly)_ No; oh, no. I was thinking--I was thinking, maybe you'd
give me a lift towards Arvach, if you'd be going that way this night.
MURTAGH COSGAR
Ay, why not?
MARTIN DOURAS
And we could talk about the land, and about Matt, too. Wouldn't it
be a heart-break if any of our children went--because of a thing we
might--
MURTAGH COSGAR
_(fiercely)_ What have you to say about Matt?
MARTIN DOURAS
_(stammering)_ Nothing except in a--in what you might call a general
way. There's many a young man left house and land for the sake of some
woman, Murtagh Cosgar.
MURTAGH COSGAR
There's many a fool did it.
MARTIN DOURAS
_(going to door)_ Ay, maybe; maybe. I'll be going now, Murtagh.
MURTAGH COSGAR
Stop! _(clutching him)_ You know about Matt. What woman is he
thinking of?
MARTIN DOURAS
_(frightened)_ We'll talk about it again, Murtagh. I said I'd be back.
MURTAGH COSGAR
We'll talk about it now. Who is she? What name has she?
MARTIN DOURAS
_(breaking from him and speaking with sudden dignity)_ It's a good
name, Murtagh Cosgar; it's my own name.
MURTAGH COSGAR
Your daughter! Ellen! You're--
MARTIN DOURAS
Ay, a good name, and a good girl.
MURTAGH COSGAR
And do you think a son of mine would marry a daughter of yours?
MARTIN DOURAS
What great difference is between us, after all?
MURTAGH COSGAR
_(fiercely)_ The daughter of a man who'd be sitting over his fire
reading his paper, and the clouds above his potatoes, and the cows
trampling his oats. _(Martin is beaten down)_ Do you know me at all,
Martin Douras? I came out of a little house by the roadway and built
my house on a hill. I had many children. Coming home in the long
evenings, or kneeling still when the prayers would be over, I'd have
my dreams. A son in Aughnalee, a son in Ballybrian, a son in Dunmore,
a son of mine with a shop, a son of mine saying Mass in Killnalee.
And I have a living name--a name in flesh and blood.
MARTIN DOURAS
God help you, Murtagh Cosgar.
MURTAGH COSGAR
But I've a son still. It's not your daughter he'll be marrying.
_(He strides to the door and calls Matt)_
MARTIN DOURAS _(going to him)_ Murtagh Cosgar--for God's sake--we're
both old men, Murtagh Cosgar.
MURTAGH COSGAR
You've read many stories, Martin Douras, and you know many endings.
You'll see an ending now, and it will be a strong ending, and a
sudden ending.
_Matt comes in_.
MURTAGH COSGAR
You're wanted here.
MATT
I heard you call. _(He sits on table)_ So they're sticking to the
twenty years.
MARTIN DOURAS
_(eagerly)_ Twenty years, Matt, and they'll get it for twenty. O, it's
a great day for you both! Father and son, you come into a single
inheritance. What the father wins the son wields.
MURTAGH COSGAR
What the father wins, the son wastes.
MATT
What's the talk of father and son?
MARTIN DOURAS
They're the one flesh and blood. There's no more strife between them
than between the right hand and the left hand.
MURTAGH COSGAR
_(to Matt)_ We were talking about you. We were fixing a match for you.
MATT
_(startled, looking at Martin Douras)_ Fixing a match for me?
_(He rises)_
MURTAGH COSGAR
Ay, Matt. Don't you think it's time to be making a match for you?
MATT
_(sullenly, going to the door)_ Maybe it is. When you have chosen
the woman, call. I'll be without.
MURTAGH COSGAR
_(going to him)_ We haven't chosen yet. But it won't be Martin Douras'
daughter, anyhow.
MATT
Stop. You drove all your living children away, except Sally and
myself. You think Sally and myself are the one sort.
MURTAGH COSGAR
_(tauntingly)_ Martin's daughter, Corney's sister. That's the girl
for you!
MATT
We're not the one sort, I tell you. Martin Douras, isn't he a
foolish old man that would drive all his children from him? What
would his twenty years' purchase be to him then?
MURTAGH COSGAR
It wasn't for my children I worked. No, no; thank God; it wasn't for
my children I worked. Go, if you will. I can be alone.
MARTIN DOURAS
O Murtagh, Murtagh, sure you know you can't be alone. We're two old
men, Murtagh.
MURTAGH COSGAR
He daren't go.
MATT
Because I'm the last of them he thinks he can dare me like that.
MURTAGH COSGAR
There was more of my blood in the others.
MATT
Do you say that?
MARTIN DOURAS
Don't say it again. For God's sake, don't say it again, Murtagh.
MURTAGH COSGAR
I do say it again. Them who dared to go had more of my blood in them!
MATT
Ah, you have put me to it now, and I'm glad, glad. A little house, a
bit of land. Do you think they could keep me here?
MURTAGH COSGAR
_(to Martin Douras)_ It's his own way he wants. I never had my own
way. _(To Matt)_ You're my last son. You're too young to know the
hardship there was in rearing you.
MATT
_(exultantly)_ Your last son; that won't keep me here. I'm the last
of my name, but that won't keep me here. I leave you your lands, your
twenty years' purchase. Murtagh Cosgar, Murtagh Cosgar! isn't that a
great name, Martin Douras--a name that's well planted, a name for
generations? Isn't he a lucky man that has a name for generations?
_(He goes out)_
MURTAGH COSGAR
He can't go. How could he go and he the last of the name. Close the
door, I say.
MARTIN DOURAS
He'll go to Ellen, surely. We'll lose both of them. Murtagh Cosgar,
God comfort you and me.
MURTAGH COSGAR
Ellen; who's Ellen? Ay, that daughter of yours. Close the door, I say.
_He sits down at fireplace. Martin Douras closes door and goes to
him_.
CURTAIN