There was another thing they had not reckoned with. It had been put

down in words by Professor William James: “Democracy is still upon

its trial. The civic genius of our people is its only bulwark and

neither laws nor monuments, neither battleships nor public libraries,

nor churches nor universities can save us from degeneration if the

inner mystery be lost. That mystery, at once the secret and glory of

our English-speaking race, consists in nothing but two common habits,

two inveterate habits, carried into public life. One of these is the

habit of trained and disciplined good temper towards the opposite

party when it fairly wins its innings. The other is that of fierce

and merciless resentment towards every man or set of men who break

the public peace.”

The civic genius of America decided that not we but our opponents had

broken the public peace.

* * * * *

_Now, little Richard, that is the whole story of my journey; and I

wonder if by the time you can read it you will have forgotten my

coming home with a big basket of grapes and bananas and grapefruit

and oranges for you, and a little flag with the Stars and Stripes._

_I was very glad to be at home with you again while the daffodils

were blooming out, and to have no more fighting, perhaps for ever.

And if it is hard to fight for a thing you love, it is harder to

fight for one you have no great love for. And you will read some day

in one of those books in the library that are too high now for you

to reach, the story of a man who was said to be mad but has outlived

many who were not, and who went about fighting for the sake of some

one who was maybe “the fright of seven townlands with her biting

tongue” though he still called out after every battle, “Dulcinea is

the most beautiful woman of the world!” So think a long time before

you choose your road, little Richard, but when you have chosen it,

follow it on to the end._

COOLE, July 24, 1913.

Appendices

APPENDIX I

PLAYS PRODUCED BY THE ABBEY THEATRE CO. AND ITS PREDECESSORS, WITH

DATES OF FIRST PERFORMANCES

IRISH LITERARY THEATRE AT ANTIENT CONCERT ROOMS

May 8th, 1899. “The Countess Cathleen.” W. B. Yeats

“ 9th, “ “The Heather Field.” Edward Martyn

IRISH LITERARY THEATRE AT THE GAIETY THEATRE

Feb. 19th, 1900. “The Bending of the Bough.” George Moore

“ 19th, “ “The Last Feast of the Fianna.” Alice Milligan

“ 20th, “ “Maeve.” Edward Martyn

Oct. 21st, 1901. “Diarmuid and Grania.” W. B. Yeats and

George Moore

“ 21st, “ “The Twisting of the Rope.” Douglas Hyde

(The first Gaelic Play produced in any Theatre.)

MR. W. G. FAY’S IRISH NATIONAL DRAMATIC COMPANY AT ST. TERESA’S HALL,

CLARENDON STREET.

Apr. 2nd, 1902. “Deirdre.” “A.E.”

“ 2nd, “ “Kathleen Ni Houlihan.” W. B. Yeats.

IRISH NATIONAL DRAMATIC COMPANY AT ANTIENT CONCERT ROOMS

Oct. 29th, 1902. “The Sleep of the King.” Seumas O’Cuisin

Oct. 29th, 1902. “The Laying of the Foundations.” Fred Ryan

“ 30th, “ “A Pot of Broth.” W. B. Yeats

“ 31st, “ “The Racing Lug.” Seumas O’Cuisin

IRISH NATIONAL THEATRE SOCIETY, MOLESWORTH HALL

(The first prospectus of this Society, dated March, 1903, and

signed by Mr. Fred Ryan began as follows: “The Irish National

Theatre Society was formed to continue on a more permanent basis

the work of the Irish Literary Theatre.”)

Mar. 14th, 1903. “The Hour Glass.” W. B. Yeats

“ 14th, “ “Twenty-Five.” Lady Gregory

Oct. 8th, “ “The King’s Threshold.” W. B. Yeats

“ 8th, “ “In the Shadow of the Glen.” J. M. Synge

Dec. 3rd, “ “Broken Soil.” Padraic Colum

Jan. 14th, 1904. “The Shadowy Waters.” W. B. Yeats

“ 14th, “ “The Townland of Tamney.” Seumas McManus

Feb. 25th, “ “Riders to the Sea.” J. M. Synge

IRISH NATIONAL THEATRE SOCIETY AT THE ABBEY THEATRE.

Dec. 27th, 1904. “On Baile’s Strand.” W. B. Yeats

“ 27th, “ “Spreading the News.” Lady Gregory

Feb. 4th, 1905. “The Well of the Saints.” J. M. Synge

Mar. 25th, “ “Kincora.” Lady Gregory

Apr. 25th, “ “The Building Fund.” William Boyle

June 9th, “ “The Land.” Padraic Colum

NATIONAL THEATRE SOCIETY, LTD. (ABBEY COMPANY)

Dec. 9th, 1905. “The White Cockade.” Lady Gregory

Jan. 20th, 1906. “The Eloquent Dempsy.” William Boyle

Feb. 19th, “ “Hyacinth Halvey.” Lady Gregory

Oct. 20th, “ “The Gaol Gate.” Lady Gregory

“ 20th, “ “The Mineral Workers.” William Boyle

Nov. 24th, “ “Deirdre.” W. B. Yeats

Dec. 8th, “ “The Canavans.” Lady Gregory

Dec. 8th, 1906. New Version of “The Shadowy W. B. Yeats

Waters.”

Jan. 26th, 1907. “The Playboy of the J. M. Synge

Western World.”

Feb. 23rd, “ “The Jackdaw.” Lady Gregory

Mar. 9th, “ “The Rising of the Moon.” Lady Gregory

Apr. 1st, “ “The Eyes of the Blind.” Miss W. M. Letts

Apr. 3rd, 1907. “The Poorhouse.” Douglas Hyde and

Lady Gregory

“ 27th, “ “Fand.” Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Oct. 3rd, “ “The Country Dressmaker.” George Fitzmaurice

“ 31st, “ “Dervorgilla.” Lady Gregory

Nov. 21st, “ “The Unicorn from the Stars.” W. B. Yeats and

Lady Gregory

Feb. 13th, 1908. “The Man who missed the Tide.” W. F. Casey

“ 13th, “ “The Piper.” Norreys Connell

Mar. 10th, “ “The Piedish.” George Fitzmaurice

Mar. 19th, “ “The Golden Helmet.” W. B. Yeats

Apr. 20th, “ “The Workhouse Ward.” Lady Gregory

Oct. 1st, “ “The Suburban Groove.” W. F. Casey

“ 8th, “ “The Clancy Name.” Lennox Robinson

“ 15th, “ “When the Dawn is come.” Thomas MacDonogh

“ 21st, “ New Version, “The Man who W. F. Casey

missed the Tide.”

Feb. 11th, 1909. Revised Version of “Kincora.” Lady Gregory

Mar. 11th, “ “Stephen Grey.” D. L. Kelleher

Apr. 1st, “ “The Cross Roads.” Lennox Robinson

“ 1st, “ “Time.” Norreys Connell

“ 29th, “ “The Glittering Gate.” Lord Dunsany

May 27th, “ “An Imaginary Conversation.” Norreys Connell

Aug. 25th, “ “The Shewing-up of Blanco Bernard Shaw

Posnet.”

Sept. 16th, “ “The White Feather.” R. J. Ray

Oct. 14th, “ “The Challenge.” Miss W. M. Letts

Nov. 11th, “ “The Image.” Lady Gregory

Jan. 13th, 1910. “Deirdre of the Sorrows.” J. M. Synge

Feb. 10th, “ “The Green Helmet.” W. B. Yeats

Mar. 2nd, “ “The Travelling Man.” Lady Gregory

May 12th, “ “Thomas Muskerry.” Padraic Colum

“ 26th, “ “Harvest.“ Lennox Robinson

Sept. 28th, 1910 “The Casting-out of R. J. Ray

Martin Whelan.”

Oct. 27th, “ “Birthright.” T. C. Murray

Nov. 10th, “ “The Full Moon.” Lady Gregory

“ 24th, “ “The Shuiler’s Child.”[2] Seumas O’Kelly

Dec. 1st, “ “Coats.” Lady Gregory

Jan. 12th, 1911. “The Deliverer.” Lady Gregory

“ 26th, “ “King Argimenes and the Lord Dunsany

Unknown Warrior.”

Feb. 16th, “ “The Land of Heart’s Desire.”[3] W. B. Yeats

Mar. 30th, “ “Mixed Marriage.” St. John G. Ervine

Nov. 23rd, “ “The Interlude of Youth.” Anon., first

printed 1554

“ 23rd, “ “The Second Shepherds’ Play.” Anon., _circa_ 1400

“ 30th, “ “The Marriage.” Douglas Hyde

Dec. 7th, “ “Red Turf.” Rutherford Mayne

“ 14th, “ Revival of “The Countess W. B. Yeats

Cathleen.”

Jan. 4th, 1912. “The Annunciation.” _circa_ 1400

“ 4th, “ “The Flight into Egypt.” _circa_ 1400

“ 11th, “ “MacDarragh’s Wife.” Lady Gregory

Feb. 1st, “ Revival of “The Country George Fitzmaurice

Dressmaker.”

“ 15th, “ “The Tinker and the Fairy.” Douglas Hyde

(Played in Gaelic)

“ 29th, “ “The Worlde and the Chylde.” 15th century

Mar. 28th, “ “Family Failing.” William Boyle

Apr. 11th, “ “Patriots.” Lennox Robinson

“ 15th, “ “Judgment.” Joseph Campbell

June 20th, “ “Maurice Harte.” T. C. Murray

July 4th, “ “The Bogie Men.” Lady Gregory

Oct. 17th, “ “The Magnanimous Lover.” St. John G. Ervine

Nov. 21st, “ “Damer’s Gold.” Lady Gregory

[2] First produced by an amateur company at the Molesworth Hall in

1909.

[3] First produced at the Avenue Theatre, London, in 1894.

TRANSLATIONS OF THE FOLLOWING HAVE BEEN PRODUCED

Apr. 16th, 1906. “The Doctor in spite of (Molière.)

Himself.” Translated by

Lady Gregory

Mar. 16th, 1907. “Interior.” (Maeterlinck.)

“ 19th, 1908. “Teja.” (Sudermann.)

Translated by

Lady Gregory

Apr. 4th, “ “The Rogueries of Scapin.” (Molière.)

Translated by

Lady Gregory

Jan. 21st, 1909. “The Miser.” (Molière.)

Translated by

Lady Gregory

Feb. 24th, 1910. “Mirandolina.” (Goldoni.)

Translated by

Lady Gregory

Jan. 5th, 1911. “Nativity Play.” (Douglas Hyde.)

Translated by

Lady Gregory

NEW PRODUCTIONS

Nov. 21st, 1912. “The Hour Glass” Revised.

“ “ “ “Damer’s Gold.”

Jan. 23rd, 1913. “The Dean of St. Patrick’s.” G. Sidney

Paternoster

Feb. 6th, “ Revival, “Casting-out of R. J. Ray

Martin Whelan.”

“ 20th, “ “Hannele.” Gerhardt Hauptmann

Mar. 6th, “ “There are Crimes and Crimes.” August Strindberg

“ 13th, “ “The Cuckoo’s Nest.” John Guinan

Apr. 10th, “ “The Homecoming.” Gertrude Robins

“ 17th, “ “The Stronger.” August Strindberg

“ 24th, “ “The Magic Glasses.” George Fitzmaurice

“ 24th, “ “Broken Faith.” S. R. Day and

G. D. Cummins

May 17th, “ “The Post Office.” Rabindranath Tagore

APPENDIX II

“THE NATION” ON “BLANCO POSNET”

We have often spoken in these columns of the condition of the

British drama and the various ways of mending it. But there is one

of its features, or, rather, one of its disabilities, as to which

some present decision must clearly be taken. That is the power of

the Censorship to warp it for evil, and to maim it for good. There

can be no doubt at all that this is the double function of the Lord

Chamberlain and his office. The drama that they pass on and therefore

commend to the people is a drama that is always earthly, often

sensual, and occasionally devilish; the drama which they refuse to

the people is a drama that seeks to be truthful, and is therefore

not concerned with average sensual views of life, and that might, if

it were encouraged, powerfully touch the neglected spheres of morals

and religion. As to the first count against the Censorship there is

and can be no defence. _Habemus confitentem reum._ The man who would

pass _Dear Old Charlie_ would pass anything. He has bound himself to

tolerate the drama of Wycherley and Congreve, of which it is a fairly

exact and clever revival, suited to modern hypocrisy as to ways of

expression, but equally audacious in its glorification of lying,

adultery, mockery, and light-mindedness.

The case on the other count is, we think, sufficiently made out by

the Censor’s refusal to license Mr. Bernard Shaw’s one-act play, _The

Showing-up of Blanco Posnet_. It is fair to the Censor to explain

the grounds of his refusal. Mr. Shaw has been good enough to let the

editor of this paper see a copy both of his drama and of the official

letter refusing a “license for representation” unless certain

passages were expunged. There were two such passages. On the second

Mr. Shaw assures us that no difficulty could have occurred. It raised

a question of taste, on which he was willing to meet Mr. Redford’s

views. It seems to us outspoken rather than gross, but as it was not

the subject of controversy we dismiss it, and recur to the critical

point on which Mr. Shaw, considering--and, in our view, rightly

considering--that the heart and meaning of his play were at issue,

refused to give way. In order that we may explain the quarrel, it is

necessary to give some slight sketch of the character and intention

of _The Showing-up of Blanco Posnet_. We suggest as the simplest clue

to its tone and atmosphere that it reproduces in some measure the

subject and the feeling of Bret Harte’s _Luck of Roaring Camp_. It

depicts a coarse and violent society, governed by emotions and crude

wants rather than by principles and laws, a society of drunkards,

lynchers, duellists at sight, and, above all, horse-stealers--in

other words, a world of conventionally bad men, liable to good

impulses. The “hero” is something of a throw-back to Dick Dudgeon,

of the _Devil’s Disciple_; that is to say, he is reckless and an

outcast, who retains the primitive virtue of not lying to himself.

The scene of the play is a trial for horse-stealing. Blanco is a

nominal--not a real--horse-stealer, that is to say, he has committed

the sin which a society of horsemen does not pardon. He has run away

with the Sheriff’s horse, believing it to be his brother’s, and

taking it on account of a fraudulent settlement of the family estate.

A man of his hands, he has yet allowed himself to be tamely captured

and brought before a jury of lynchers. Why? Well, he has been

upset, overtaken, his plan of life twisted and involved out of all

recognition. On his way with the horse, a woman met him with a child

dying of croup. She stopped him, thrust the sick child on to the

horse, and “commandeered” it for a ride to the nearest doctor’s. The

child has thrust its weak arms round his neck, and with that touch

all the strength has gone out of him. He gives up the horse and flies

away into the night, covering his retreat from this new superior

force with obscene curses, and surrendering, dismounting, dazed, and

helpless, to the Sheriff when the _posse comitatus_ catches him.

Thenceforward two opposing forces rend him, and make life

unintelligible and unendurable while they struggle for his soul.

Dragged into the Sheriff’s court, he is prepared to fight for his

neck with the rascals who sit in judgment on him, to lie against

them, and to browbeat them. Unjust and filthy as they are, he will

be unjust and filthy too. But then there was this apparition of

the child. What did it mean? Why has it unmanned him? And here it

seems to him that God has at once destroyed and tricked him, for

the child is dead, and yet his life is forfeit to these brutes.

The situation--this sketch of a sudden, ruthless, unintelligible

interference with the lives of men--though apparently unknown to the

Censor, will be familiar to readers of the Bible and of religious

poetry and prose, and Mr. Shaw’s treatment of it could only offend

either the non-religious mind or the sincerely, but conventionally,

pious man who is so wrapt up in the emotional view of religion that

its sterner and deeper moralities escape him. The literary parallels

will at once occur. Browning chooses the subject in _Pippa Passes_,

and in the poem in which he describes how the strong man who had

hemmed in and surrounded his enemy suddenly found himself stayed by

the “arm that came across” and saved the wretch from vengeance. Ibsen

dwells on this divine thwarting and staying power in _Peer Gynt_,

and it is, of course, the opening theme of the _Pilgrim’s Progress_.

As it presents itself to a coarse and reckless, but sincere, man he

deals with it in coarse but sincere language--the language which the

Censor refuses to pass. Here is the offending passage, which occurs

in a dialogue between Blanco and his drunken hypocrite of a brother:--

“BLANCO: Take care, Boozy. He hasn’t finished with you yet. He

always has a trick up his sleeve.

“ELDER DANIELS: Oh, is that the way to speak of the Ruler of the

Universe--the great and almighty God?

“BLANCO: He’s a sly one. He’s a mean one. He lies low for you. He

plays cat and mouse with you. He lets you run loose until you think

you’re shut of Him; and then when you least expect it, He’s got you.

“ELDER DANIELS: Speak more respectful, Blanco--more reverent.

“BLANCO: Reverent! Who taught you your reverent cant? Not your

Bible. It says, ‘He cometh like a thief in the night’--aye, like a

thief--a horse-thief. And it’s true. That’s how He caught me and

put my neck into the halter. To spite me because I had no use for

Him--because I lived my own life in my own way, and would have no

truck with His ‘Don’t do this,’ and ‘You mustn’t do that,’ and

‘You’ll go to hell if you do the other.’ I gave Him the go-bye, and

did without Him all these years. But He caught me out at last. The

laugh is with Him as far as hanging goes.”

Now, let us first note the incapacity of the critic of such an

outburst as this to think in terms of the dramatic art--to divine the

_état d’âme_ of the speaker, and to recognise the method, and, within

bounds, the idiosyncracy of the playwright. But having regard to all

that the Censor has done and all that he has left undone, let us

also mark his resolve to treat as mere blasphemy on Mr. Shaw’s part

the artist’s endeavour to depict a rough man’s first consciousness of

a Power that, selecting Blanco as it selected Paul and John Bunyan,

threatens to drag him through moral shame and physical death, if need

be, to life, and not to let him go till He has wrought His uttermost

purpose on him. Mr. Shaw naturally makes Blanco talk as an American

horse-stealer would talk. But how does Job talk of God, or the

Psalmist, or the Author of the Parables? Nearly every one of Blanco

Posnet’s railings can be paralleled from Job. Listen to this:--

“The tabernacles of robbers prosper, and they that provoke God are

secure, into whose hand God bringeth abundantly.

“He removeth away the speech of the trusty, and taketh away the

understanding of the aged.

“He taketh the heart of the chief of the people of the earth and

causeth them to wander in a wilderness where there is no way.

“They grope in the dark without light, and He maketh them to

stagger like a drunken man.

* * * * *

“Know now that God hath overthrown me, and hath compassed me with

His net.

“He hath fenced up my way that I cannot pass, and He hath set

darkness in my paths.

“He hath destroyed me on every side, and I am gone: and mine hope

hath He removed like a tree.”

Is this blasphemy? Is not Mr. Shaw’s theme and its expression a

reflection of Job’s, save that in the one case a bad man speaks,

and in the other a good one? If the answer is that these subjects,

these moral and religious relationships, must not be treated on the

stage, then we reply first that the Censor is grossly inconsistent,

for he did not veto the entire play, but only that passage which

most clearly revealed its meaning; secondly, that the licensing

of _Everyman_, and of Mr. Jerome’s _The Third Floor Back_, where

God appears, not merely as an influence on the lives of men, but

as a man, sitting at their table and sharing their talk, forbids

such an hypothesis; and thirdly, that if Mr. Redford holds this

view, he is convicted of opening the drama to horrible mockery of

life and sensual trifling with it, and closing it to those close

questionings of its purpose, which constitute the main theme of all

serious playwrights from Æschylus to Ibsen. That Mr. Shaw could have

consented to the omission of the passage we have quoted was out of

the question. It is vital. The entire play turns on it. For when

the woman comes into court and tells her story, it is seen that the

leaven which works in Blanco’s mind has leavened the lump; that the

prostitute who is for swearing away his life cannot speak, that

the ferocious jury will not convict, and the unjust judge will not

sentence.

Mr. Shaw had, therefore, to fight for his play, and the Censor has to

come into the open and face the music; to reveal his theory of the

British drama, and illustrate his continual practice of it; which is

to warn off the artist and the preacher, and to clear the path for

the scoffer and the clown.

LETTER FROM W. G. BERNARD SHAW TO LADY GREGORY AFTER THE PRODUCTION

OF “BLANCO POSNET”

DEAR LADY GREGORY:

Now that the production of _Blanco Posnet_ has revealed the character

of the play to the public, it may be as well to clear up some of the

points raised by the action of the Castle in the matter.

By the Castle, I do not mean the Lord Lieutenant. He was in Scotland

when the trouble began. Nor do I mean the higher officials and law

advisers. I conclude that they also were either in Scotland, or

preoccupied by the Horse Show, or taking their August holiday in

some form. As a matter of fact the friction ceased when the Lord

Lieutenant returned. But in the meantime the deputies left to attend

to the business of the Castle found themselves confronted with a

matter which required tactful handling and careful going. They did

their best; but they broke down rather badly in point of law, in

point of diplomatic etiquette, and in point of common knowledge.

First, they committed the indiscretion of practically conspiring with

an English official who has no jurisdiction in Ireland in an attempt

to intimidate an Irish theatre.

Second, they assumed that this official acts as the agent of the

King, whereas, as Sir Harry Poland established in a recent public

controversy on the subject, his powers are given him absolutely by

Act of Parliament (1843). If the King were to write a play, this

official could forbid its performance, and probably would if it were

a serious play and were submitted without the author’s name, or with

mine.

Third, they assumed that the Lord Lieutenant is the servant of the

King. He is nothing of the sort. He is the Viceroy: that is, he _is_

the King in the absence of Edward VII. To suggest that he is bound

to adopt the views of a St. James’s Palace official as to what is

proper to be performed in an Irish theatre is as gross a solecism

as it would be to inform the King that he must not visit Marienbad

because some Castle official does not consider Austria a sufficiently

Protestant country to be a fit residence for an English monarch.

Fourth, they referred to the Select Committee which is now

investigating the Censorship in London whilst neglecting to inform

themselves of its purpose. The Committee was appointed because

the operation of the Censorship had become so scandalous that the

Government could not resist the demand for an inquiry. At its very

first sitting it had to turn the public and press out of the room

and close its doors to discuss the story of a play licensed by the

official who barred _Blanco Posnet_; and after this experience it

actually ruled out all particulars of licensed plays as unfit for

public discussion. With the significant exception of Mr. George

Edwards, no witness yet examined, even among those who have most

strongly supported the Censorship as an institution, has defended the

way in which it is now exercised. The case which brought the whole

matter to a head was the barring of this very play of mine, _The

Shewing up of Blanco Posnet_. All this is common knowledge. Yet the

Castle, assuming that I, and not the Censorship, am the defendant

in the trial now proceeding in London, treated me, until the Lord

Lieutenant’s return, as if I were a notoriously convicted offender.

This, I must say, is not like old times in Ireland. Had I been a

Catholic, a Sinn Feiner, a Land Leaguer, a tenant farmer, a labourer,

or anything that from the Castle point of view is congenitally

wicked and coercible, I should have been prepared for it; but if the

Protestant landed gentry, of which I claim to be a perfectly correct

member, even to the final grace of absenteeism, is to be treated in

this way by the Castle, then English rule must indeed be going to the

dogs. Of my position of a representative of literature I am far too

modest a man to speak; but it was the business of the Castle to know

it and respect it; and the Castle did neither.

Fifth, they reported that my publishers had refused to supply a copy

of the play for the use of the Lord Lieutenant, leaving it to be

inferred that this was done by my instructions as a deliberate act of

discourtesy. Now no doubt my publishers were unable to supply a copy,

because, as it happened, the book was not published, and could not

be published until the day of the performance without forfeiting my

American copyright, which is of considerable value. Private copies

only were available; but if the holiday deputies of the Castle think

that the Lord Lieutenant found the slightest difficulty in obtaining

such copies, I can only pity their total failure to appreciate either

his private influence or his public importance.

Sixth, they claimed that Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree, who highly values

good understanding with the Dublin public, had condemned the play.

What are the facts? Sir Herbert, being asked by the Select Committee

whether he did not think that my play would shock religious feeling,

replied point-blank, “No, it would heighten religious feeling.” He

announced the play for production at his theatre; the Censorship

forced him to withdraw it; and the King instantly shewed his opinion

of the Censorship by making Sir Herbert a Knight. But it also

happened that Sir Herbert, who is a wit, and knows the weight of the

Censor’s brain to half a scruple, said with a chuckle when he came

upon the phrase “immoral relations” in the play, “They won’t pass

that.” And they did not pass it. That the deputy officials should

have overlooked Sir Herbert’s serious testimony to the religious

propriety of the play, and harped on his little jest at the Censor’s

expense as if it were at my expense, is a fresh proof of the danger

of transacting important business at the Castle when all the

responsible officials are away bathing.

On one point, however, the Castle followed the established Castle

tradition. It interpreted the patent (erroneously) as limiting the

theatre to Irish plays. Now the public is at last in possession of

the fact that the real protagonist in my play who does not appear

in person on the stage at all, is God. In my youth the Castle view

was that God is essentially Protestant and English; and as the

Castle never changes its views, it is bound to regard the divine

protagonist as anti-Irish and consequently outside the terms of the

patent. Whether it will succeed in persuading the Lord Lieutenant to

withdraw the patent on that ground will probably depend not only on

His Excellency’s theological views, but on his private opinion of

the wisdom with which the Castle behaves in his absence. The Theatre

thought the risk worth while taking; and I agreed with them. At all

events Miss Horniman will have no difficulty in insuring the patent

at an extremely reasonable rate.

In conclusion, may I say that from the moment when the Castle made

its first blunder I never had any doubt of the result, and that I

kept away from Dublin, in order that our national theatre might

have the entire credit of handling and producing a new play without

assistance from the author or from any other person trained in the

English theatres. Nobody who has not lived, as I have to live, in

London, can possibly understand the impression the Irish players

made there this year, or appreciate the artistic value of their

performances, their spirit, and their methods. It has been suggested

that I placed _Blanco Posnet_ at their disposal only because it was,

as an unlicensed play, the refuse of the English market. As a matter

of fact there was no such Hobson’s choice in the matter. I offered

a licensed play as an alternative, and am all the more indebted to

Lady Gregory and Mr. Yeats for not choosing it. Besides, Ireland is

really not so negligible from the commercial-theatrical point of

view as some of our more despondent patriots seem to suppose. Of the

fifteen countries outside Britain in which my plays are performed, my

own is by no means the least lucrative; and even if it were, I should

not accept its money value as a measure of its importance.

G. BERNARD SHAW.

PARKNASILLA,

27 August, 1909.

APPENDIX III

“THE PLAYBOY IN AMERICA”

(_Note to page 180_)

From “THE GAELIC AMERICAN,” Oct. 14, 1911

IRISHMEN WILL STAMP OUT THE “PLAYBOY”

October 14, 1911:--“Resolved--That we, the United Irish-American

Societies of New York, make every reasonable effort, through a

committee, to induce those responsible for the presentation of _The

Playboy_ to withdraw it, and failing in this we pledge ourselves as

one man to use every means in our power to drive the vile thing from

the stage, as we drove _McFadden’s Row of Flats_ and the abomination

produced by the Russell Brothers, and we ask the aid in this work of

every decent Irish man and woman, and of the Catholic Church, whose

doctrines and devotional practices are held up to scorn and ridicule

in Synge’s monstrosity.”

(_Note to page 202_)

From THE NEW YORK “TIMES”

November 28, 1911:--When Christopher Mahon said: “I killed my father

a week and a half ago for the likes of that,” instantly voices began

to call from all over the theatre:

“Shame! Shame!”

A potato swept through the air from the gallery and smashed against

the wings. Then came a shower of vegetables that rattled against the

scenery and made the actors duck their heads and fly behind the stage

setting for shelter.

A potato struck Miss Magee, and she, Irish like, drew herself up

and glared defiance. Men were rising in the gallery and balcony and

crying out to stop the performance. In the orchestra several men

stood up and shook their fists.

“Go on with the play,” came an order from the stage manager, and the

players took their places and began again to speak their lines.

The tumult broke out more violently than before, and more vegetables

came sailing through the air and rolled about the stage. Then began

the fall of soft cubes that broke as they hit the stage. At first

these filled the men and women in the audience and on the stage with

fear, for only the disturbers knew what they were.

Soon all knew. They were capsules filled with asafœtida, and their

odour was suffocating and most revolting.

One of the theatre employes had run to the street to ask for police

protection at the outset of the disturbance, but the response was

so slow that the ushers and the doortenders raced up the stairs and

threw themselves into a knot of men who were standing and yelling

“Shame!”

(_Note to page 205_)

From THE NEW YORK “SUN”

Wednesday, November 29, 1911:--Col. Theodore Roosevelt, who had

been entertained at dinner prior to the play by Lady Gregory, the

author-producer of many of the Irish plays, and Chief Magistrate

McAdoo sat with Lady Gregory in one of the lower tier boxes. Col.

Roosevelt was there representing the _Outlook_, for he said that if

he had any ideas on the subject of the morals and merits of Synge’s

play he would write them in Dr. Abbott’s paper, and Magistrate McAdoo

was there for Mayor Gaynor to stop the play if he saw anything

contrary to the public morals in it. Mr. McAdoo said that his task

was a light one and Col. Roosevelt did not have to say anything. He

just applauded.

* * * * *

When Col. Roosevelt appeared on a side aisle escorting Lady Gregory

to a seat in the box there was a patter of hand clapping and the

Colonel gallantly insisted that Lady Gregory should stand and receive

the applause.

“He’s here because he smells a fight,” said some one in a whisper

that rebounded from the acoustic board overhead and was audible all

over the house.

When Magistrate McAdoo arrived somebody asked him if he were serving

in an official capacity, to which he replied that the Mayor had asked

him to drop in and see the play which had so roused the wrath of

reputed Irishmen on the night before. He had orders, McAdoo said, to

squash it the minute that he should see or hear anything that might

be considered to have tobogganed over the line of discretion. But Mr.

McAdoo said that he thought he would understand in a fair spirit,

withal, the satire and irony of the play, if there was such, and he

did not intend to be a martinet. The players graciously handed him

out the prompt book between acts to see for himself that the line

about “shifts” which had raised a storm of protest in Dublin as being

indelicate had been deleted.

Nothing happened during the playing of the little curtain-raiser,

_The Gaol Gate_, Lady Gregory’s grim little tragedy of suffering

Ireland, except that near the end of the single act in the playlet

people in the gallery began a noisy warming up on their coughs and

sneezes. Some of the plain-clothes men there began to amble around

back of the aisles, and they laid their eyes on one individual with

a thick neck who seemed about to pull something out from under his

coat. Him they landed just as a quick curtain fell on the act and

without ado they ousted him.

The citizen began to protest loudly that he was wedged in his seat

and could not stir, but two of the strong arms persuaded him that he

might as well unwedge himself before something happened. The little

interlude was not sufficiently stirring even to attract the notice of

those in the balcony and orchestra below.

Everybody believed that the trouble was all past with the second act,

but the third and last was the noisiest of the three.

It appeared that, failing to find any single line to which they could

take exception, those who had come to protest against what they

conceived to be the libelling of the Irish race were ready to take it

out in one long spell of hissing.

The cue was given when the drunken Michael James, the inn keeper,

came on the stage to unite with a maudlin blessing the lovers,

Christopher and Margaret.

As in the second act the seat of disturbance was in the balcony

and thither six plain-clothes men were hastened. Three heads were

together and one man was beating time with his hand while they took

relays in hissing. The plain-clothes men descended and the three were

yanked from their seats without benefit of explanation.

“But we’re Englishmen,” said one of them, “and we take exception to

the line, ‘Khaki clad cut-throats,’ meaning of course the English

constabulary.”

“And don’t call me an Irishman,” said the third, while he adjusted

his neck gingerly in the collar that had been tightened by the cop’s

grip. “I’m a Jew and I was born in St. Joe, Missoury, and I think

this play’s rotten, just on general principles. And if I think so

I’ve got a right to show it. The law holds that anybody has got as

good a right to show displeasure at a play as pleasure and I saw my

lawyer before I came here, and----”

LETTER FROM MR. JOHN QUINN

TO THE EDITOR OF A DUBLIN NEWSPAPER

DEAR SIR: Now that the Irish players have been to New York and their

work seen and judged, the readers of your paper may be interested

in the publication of one or two facts in connection with their

visit. For some time before the company came to New York there had

been threats of an organised attempt by a small coterie of Irishmen

to prevent the performance of Synge’s _Playboy_. It was difficult

for many people in New York who are interested in the drama and art

to take these rumours seriously. The attempt to prevent the New

York public from hearing the work of these Irish players of course

failed. There was an organised attempt by perhaps a hundred or a

hundred and fifty Irishmen on the first night _The Playboy_ was

given here to prevent the performance by hissing and booing, and by

throwing potatoes and other objects at the actors, and red pepper and

asafœtida among the audience. The disturbers were ejected from the

theatre by the police. All the great metropolitan papers, morning and

evening, condemned this organised disturbance. The second night, some

six or seven disturbers were put out of the theatre by the police,

and that was the end of the long-threatened attempt to break up the

performance of these plays. The issue was not between the plays and

the players and the disturbers, but between the New York public

and the disturbers. This fight over Synge was of vast importance

for us as a city. One night settled that question and settled it

conclusively.

I have seen in some of the daily and one of the weekly Irish papers a

statement to the effect that “_The Playboy_ was hooted from the stage

... after the worst riot ever witnessed in a New York playhouse.” The

statement that it was “hooted from the stage” is of course utterly

false. The greatest disorder occurred during the first act. A few

minutes after the curtain fell at the end of the first act it was

raised again and the statement was made by a member of the company

that the act would be given entirely over again. This announcement

was greeted with cheers and applause from the great majority of the

audience, who indignantly disapproved the attempt of the disturbers

to prevent the performance. The play was not “hooted from the stage.”

The attempt to prevent by force the hearing of the play having so

signally failed, a committee waited upon the Mayor of New York City

the next day and demanded the suppression of the plays. The Mayor

requested Chief Judge McAdoo of the Court of Special Sessions to

attend the play as his representative and report to him. Judge McAdoo

is an Irishman, born in Ireland, and has had a distinguished public

career as member of Congress, Assistant Secretary of the Navy, and

Police Commissioner of New York City, and he is now Chief Judge of

the Court of Special Sessions. Judge McAdoo attended the play and

made a report to the Mayor completely rejecting the charges that had

been made against the morals and ethics of the play.

Both attempts to prevent the performance of the play, the first by

force and the second by appeal to the authorities, having completely

failed, the work of distorting in the Irish papers what actually took

place then began.

Among other things it has been stated that the Abbey Theatre company

was not a success in New York. On the contrary the success of the

company has been beyond anything in my personal experience. The

verdict of critical and artistic New York in favour of the work of

the Irish Theatre has been emphatic. The pick of the intellectual and

artistic public crowded the theatre during the weeks of the company’s

performances here and admired and enjoyed their work. In fact

intelligent New Yorkers are yet wondering what was the real cause of

the attempt to prevent the hearing of the plays. This is one of the

mysteries of this winter in New York. I am proud, as a citizen of New

York, that New York’s verdict of approval was so swift and decisive,

and I am proud of New York’s quick recognition of the excellence of

the new Irish school of drama and acting. As a man of Irish blood,

my chief regret is that organised prejudice and prejudgment should

have prevented these players from getting that welcome from a section

of their own countrymen that I feel sure they will secure in future

years. This prejudice was created and the prejudgment was largely

caused by the publication of detached sentences and quotations from

the plays, while ignoring the art of the actors and the humour and

poetry and imaginative beauty of the plays, beauties which, as Sir

Philip Sidney would say, “who knoweth not to be flowers of poetry did

never walk into Apollo’s garden.”

Not only have the New York daily papers devoted columns to the work

of this company throughout their stay, giving elaborate reviews of

their work and long interviews with Lady Gregory and others, but many

magazines have had articles on the subject of the plays and writers

and on the Irish dramatic movement generally, among others the _Yale

Review_, the _Harvard Monthly_, _Collier’s Weekly_, the _Nation_ (two

notices), the _Dramatic Mirror_ (five notices), the _Metropolitan

Magazine_, _Munsey’s Magazine_, the _Craftsman_, _Life_, _Harper’s

Weekly_ (containing repeated notices), the _Outlook_, the _Bookman_,

and others. Lady Gregory has contributed articles to the _Yale

Review_, the _World of Today_ and the _Delineator_, and has lectured

at many places upon the Irish dramatic movement. The universities

and colleges have shown the liveliest interest in the movement. The

professors have lectured upon the plays and the plays have been

studied in the college classes and the students have been advised to

read them and see the players.

“THE PLAYBOY” IN PHILADELPHIA

(_Note to page 218_)

From PHILADELPHIA “NORTH AMERICAN”

January 17, 1912:--Determined to force their dramatic views on the

public despite the arrests at Monday night’s demonstration, several

Irishmen last night vented their disapproval of _The Playboy of the

Western World_ which had its second production by Irish Players at

the Adelphi Theatre.

They started by coughing, and they caused the player-folk to become

slightly nervous. They next essayed hissing, and cries of “shame,”

and finally one of their number rose to his feet in a formal protest.

Plain-clothes men throughout the house quelled the slight

disturbance, but at every opportunity another belligerent broke into

unruly behaviour.

The disorder approached the dignity of serious rioting in the second

and third acts of the piece, and at the last a man from Connemara

rose in the body of the house, whipped a speech from his coat pocket,

and proceeded to interrupt the players with a harangue against the

morality of the play.

His philippics were short-lived. Sixteen cops in plain clothes

reached him at the same time, and the red man from Connemara

disappeared, while the play was being brought to a close....

Extra precautions were taken by the police to preserve order at last

night’s performance. The lights in the back of the house were not

turned down at any time except the first few minutes of the one-act

play _Kathleen ni Houlihan_ which was the curtain-raiser to the

longer piece.

Evidence that there would be trouble later in the evening was plain.

Nearly the whole rear part of the house downstairs was filled with

Irishmen.

As the little poetic vision of the author unrolled itself and the

enthusiastic and for the most part cultured audience was steeping

itself in the lyric beauty of the lines, two whole rows of the

auditors were seized with a desire to cough or clear their throats.

That caused a momentary lull in the play.

Up in the top gallery a thin but insistent ventriloquist piped, “This

is rotten!” Cries of “Hush!” quieted the interrupter.

In the first act of _The Playboy_ where the bulk of the disturbance

occurred Monday night, no expression of opinion was made. But just

as every one was settling down to enjoy the play, confident no more

interruptions would occur, the trouble began.

One of the clan downstairs cried out his disapprobation. The lights

were turned on full tilt, and policemen in plain clothes sprang up

from every quarter of the house. Women left their seats in fear. A

misguided youth near the orchestra threw his programme, doubled into

a ball, at Miss Magee. He was promptly arrested.

The play was stopped for fully five minutes until all the men who

showed signs of making trouble were evicted. A number of them laid

low, however, and bobbed up now and again, whenever they wanted to.

It kept the cops busy hustling them out of the doors. Superintendent

Taylor and Captain of the Detectives Souder were in charge of the

evictions and as each man was taken out two detectives were sent with

him to City Hall where all were locked in.

The climax came when near the close of the last act the man from

Connaught began his oratorical flights, drowning the speeches of the

actors on the stage. All interest then centred upon the little knot

of strugglers in the main aisle of the theatre and four more Irishmen

were escorted, hatless and without overcoats, to the street.

As the men were arraigned at the City Hall, William A. Gray, counsel

for the offenders at Monday night’s riot, appeared for them. He

said he had been sent by Joseph McLaughlin, a saloon-keeper and

vice-president of the A. O. H., and he obtained a copy of the

charges, with a view to getting the men out on bail.... Mr. Gray said

he intended taking the matter before the courts and asking for an

injunction to prohibit further productions of the play. He said his

backer was Joseph McGarrity, a wholesale liquor dealer, in business

at 144 South Third Street, who was one of those ejected from the

theatre on Monday night.

Headed by Joseph McLaughlin, a delegation of seven prominent members

of the Irish societies of the city waited on Mayor Blankenburg

yesterday with a petition asking him to stop the production of John

M. Synge’s comedy _The Playboy of the Western World_ on the ground

that it is immoral.

The Mayor heard the comments of the Irishmen, but with great

good humour pointed out that inasmuch as he could find nothing

objectionable in the play, he could not promise to stop the

production.

He informed the delegation that he had previously made inquiries of

the mayors of New York, Boston, and Providence, where the play had

been shown, and had received answers which plainly indicated it was

not necessary to stop the play.

(_Note to page 226_)

From PHILADELPHIA “NORTH AMERICAN”

IRISH PLAYERS APPEAR IN A “COURT COMEDY”; NO DECISION

ANSWER CHARGE OF “IMMORALITY” BROUGHT BY A LIQUOR DEALER--“PLAYBOY”

DEFENDED AND ATTACKED BY WITNESSES

January 20, 1912:--Second only in point of order, not in worth,

was the unadvertised comedy participated in by the Irish Players

yesterday afternoon, at a matinée performance held in Judge Carr’s

room in the quarter sessions court.

The public flocked to see, and stayed to witness, a most complete

vindication of Synge’s much discussed satirisation of the Irish

character. The actors arrested for appearing in _The Playboy of

the Western World_ kept, however, in the background, while counsel

on both sides engaged in lively tilts with two members of the

clergy and the judge and other witnesses, furnishing the crowd with

entertainment.

Eleven of the Irish Players who were held in $500 bail each by

Magistrate Carey, at a hearing in his office earlier in the day,

threw themselves upon the mercy of the quarter sessions court,

to obtain a legal decision as to whether their play violated the

McNichol act of 1911, which makes it a misdemeanor to present

“lascivious, sacrilegious, obscene or indecent plays.” The hearing

before the court was brought about by a habeas corpus proceeding.

Although no decision was handed down after the argument, the attitude

of the court was plainly shown, by the line of questions put to

various witnesses. The testimony offered by Director of Public Safety

Porter, who was called by the commonwealth, indicated that no fault

could be found with the play. Judge Carr reserved decision, and

adjourned court until Monday.

The defendants were represented by Charles Biddle, William Redheffer,

Jr., Howard H. Yocum, and John Quinn, of New York. Directly back of

them, in the courtroom, sat Lady Gregory, Mrs. Henry La Barre Jayne,

and W. W. Bradford, the latter representing Liebler & Co., managers

of the Irish Players.

SURPRISE FOR PROSECUTOR

William A. Gray represented Joseph McGarrity, the liquor dealer, who

has taken principal part in the prosecution of the actors. He was

aided at times by Assistant District Attorney Fox on behalf of the

commonwealth, although the latter’s action in calling Director Porter

to give testimony caused Mr. Gray both surprise and embarrassment,

inasmuch as Mr. Porter said there was nothing in the piece to offend

the most devout and reverent of women. He said he had attended the

theatre with his wife and that neither of them was “shocked”; on the

contrary, distinctly pleased.

Mr. Gray called Joseph McGarrity to the stand. In all seriousness and

sincerity the witness testified that, in his opinion, _The Playboy_

was a wicked piece and that he thought he had a perfect right to show

his disapproval by protesting. He was questioned by Judge Carr as to

the reason why he did not leave the theatre before he was ejected, if

he thought the play was bad. He could give no adequate reply.

Mr. Gray then read passages from the book, declaring that it had

been expurgated to make it presentable on the American stage.

Frederick O’Donovan, one of the company, who takes the part of the

Playboy, testified that productions of the play had been made in

Dublin, Belfast, Cork, London, Oxford, Cambridge, Harrowgate, Boston,

New York, New Haven, and Providence without causing any public

disturbance except in New York, and without any criminal prosecution

being brought anywhere.

It was pointed out to the court by Mr. Gray that Pennsylvania is the

only State having a statute preventing immoral or sacrilegious plays

and that this was of so recent a date that neither side could argue

that other plays of a much more objectionable nature than this had

been permitted without hindrance.

Mr. Biddle and Mr. Quinn then summed up their arguments, in which

the court concurred, openly. The New York lawyer paid a tribute to

Philadelphia concerning the testimony of Director Porter. He said:

“Philadelphia ought to be proud of the manhood displayed by such a

witness. He stood before this court and testified that he and his

wife had witnessed the performance, and that neither was displeased

by any exhibition of immorality.

“I say that any man who takes a lascivious meaning out of any of

the lines of the play, or who declares that the piece is in any way

improper, must have a depraved and an abnormal mind.

“I am ashamed that such men should come here and insult womanhood

with their views. The American people are too good a judge of the

Irish race to agree with them.”

The court then took the case under advisement, reserving decision,

counsel agreeing, under his advice, to allow the company to renew its

bail bond of $5000.

(_Note to page 242_)

“THE PLAYBOY” IN CHICAGO

From CHICAGO “DAILY TRIBUNE”

January 30, 1913:--Mayor Harrison last night was directed by an order

passed by the city council to prohibit the presentation in Chicago

of _The Playboy of the Western World_, a play which has caused riots

and organised protests in New York, Philadelphia, and Washington when

presented by the Irish Players.

What action the mayor will take he was not prepared to indicate at

the conclusion of the council session. It was stated during the

debate on the subject that the mayor holds discretionary powers, and

with the backing of the council can prevent the play if he chooses.

But there is nothing mandatory in the order of the council, which

asked the mayor to co-operate with Chief of Police McWeeny.

The Mayor said he would investigate the legal phases and also look

into the character of the play before he decided upon steps to take.

[Illustration: (Threatening letter received by Lady Gregory)]

MCINERNEY LEADS FIGHT

Ald. Michael McInerney led the movement for the council order.

“The play is a studied sarcasm on the Irish race,” asserted Mr.

McInerney, reading from a typewritten sheet; “it points no moral, and

it teaches no lesson.”

“Press agent!” shouted some one.

“No, I’m not the press agent,” asserted the alderman. “This play

pictures an Irishman a coward, something that never happened, and

it attacks the Irishwoman. There are no Irishmen connected with the

company in any way.”

In reply to a question whether Lady Gregory was Irish, McInerney

replied he had not met “the lady,” and then added:

“There’s a difference in being from Ireland and being Irish. There

are lots of people in Ireland that aren’t Irish. If you’re born in a

stable, that doesn’t make you a horse.”

Mr. Pringle stopped unanimous passage of the resolution.

“While I am not Irish,” he said, “I believe Ald. McInerney knows what

he is talking about; but I do not know enough about this subject to

vote upon it at this time.”

“Like Ald. Pringle,” said Ald. Thomson, “I am not sufficiently

informed, and I shall ask to be excused from voting.”

GERMANS STRONG FOR IRISH

“Since some leading Irish organisations have chosen Germans to lead

them,” said Ald. Henry Utpatel, “I feel that that fact alone makes

them a great race, and I shall vote with Ald. McInerney.”

“Would you like to hear from the Poles?” asked Ald. Frank P. Danisch.

“That’s all right,” said McInerney, “if this play is presented there

will come along a play insulting the Poles or some other race. It is

not right for Chicago to let any race be insulted.”

The order was then adopted, Ald. Pringle and Thomson voting in the

negative.

(_Note to page 246_)

From CHICAGO “RECORD-HERALD”

February 1, 1912:--Chicago’s City Council erred in passing an order

directing the mayor and the chief of police to stop the production

_The Playboy of the Western World_ according to an opinion sent to

Mayor Harrison yesterday by William H. Sexton, the city’s corporation

counsel.

The brief was prepared by William Dillon, brother of John Dillon, the

Irish nationalist leader, one of Mr. Sexton’s assistants. It held

that the counsel order was of no legal effect, although the mayor

could suppress the play if he decided that it was immoral or against

public policy. Mr. Dillon further declared that the mayor would not

be legally right in prohibiting the production.

“I read three pages of the book,” declared Mayor Harrison, “and

instead of finding anything immoral I found that the whole thing was

wonderfully stupid. I shall abide by the corporation’s opinion.”

Interview for NEW YORK “EVENING SUN”

GEORGE BERNARD SHAW ON THE IRISH PLAYERS

“I presume, Mr. Shaw, you have heard the latest news of your _Blanco

Posnet_ in America with the Irish Players?” he was asked.

“No. Why? Has it failed?” Mr. Shaw answered.

“Quite the contrary,” he was assured.

“Oh, in that case why should I hear about it?” he said. “Success is

the usual thing with my plays; it is what I write them for. I only

hear about them when something goes wrong.”

“But are you not interested in the success of the Irish Players? Or

was that a matter of course too?”

“By no means,” Mr. Shaw answered. “I warned Lady Gregory that America

was an extremely dangerous country to take a real Irish company to.”

“But why? Surely America, with its immense Irish element----”

“Rubbish! There are not half a dozen real Irishmen in America

outside that company of actors!” he exclaimed. “You don’t suppose

that all these Murphys and Doolans and Donovans and Farrells and

Caseys and O’Connells who call themselves by romantic names like the

Clan-na-Gael and the like are Irishmen! You know the sort of people I

mean. They call Ireland the Old Country....

“Shall I tell you what they did in Dublin to the Irish Players? There

was a very great Irish dramatic poet, who died young, named John

Synge--a real Irish name--just the sort of name the Clan-na-Gael

never think of.

“Well, John Synge wrote a wonderful play called _The Playboy of the

Western World_, which is now a classic. This play was not about an

Irish peculiarity, but about a universal weakness of mankind: the

habit of admiring bold scoundrels. Most of the heroes of history

are bold scoundrels, you will notice. English and American boys

read stories about Charles Peace, the burglar, and Ned Kelly, the

highwayman, and even about Teddy Roosevelt, the rough-rider. The

Playboy is a young man who brags of having killed his father, and

is made almost as great a hero as if he were an Italian general who

had killed several thousand other people’s fathers. Synge satirises

this like another Swift, but with a joyousness and a wild wealth of

poetic imagery that Swift never achieved. Well, sir, if you please,

this silly Dublin Clan-na-Gael, or whatever it called itself,

suddenly struck out the brilliant idea that to satirise the follies

of humanity is to insult the Irish nation, because the Irish nation

is, in fact, the human race and has no follies, and stands there pure

and beautiful and saintly to be eternally oppressed by England and

collected for by the Clan. There were just enough of them to fill

the Abbey Street Theatre for a night or two to the exclusion of the

real Irish people, who simply get sick when they hear this sort of

balderdash talked about Ireland. Instead of listening to a great

play by a great Irishman they bawled and whistled and sang ‘God Save

Ireland’ (not without reason, by the way), and prevented themselves

from hearing a word of the performance....”

“Do you think there will be trouble with the Clan in New York?”

“I think there may be trouble anywhere where there are men who have

lost touch with Ireland and still keep up the old bragging and

posing. You must bear in mind that Ireland is now in full reaction

against them. The stage Irishman of the nineteenth century, generous,

drunken, thriftless, with a joke always on his lips and a sentimental

tear always in his eye, was highly successful as a borrower of money

from Englishmen--both in Old and New England--who indulged and

despised him because he flattered their sense of superiority. But the

real Irishman of to-day is so ashamed of him and so deeply repentant

for having ever stooped to countenance and ape him in the darkest

days of the Captivity that the Irish Players have been unable to

find a single play by a young writer in which Ireland is not lashed

for its follies. We no longer brazen out the shame of our subjection

by idle boasting. Even in Dublin, that city of tedious and silly

derision where men can do nothing but sneer, they no longer sneer

at other nations. In a modern Irish play the hero doesn’t sing that

‘Ould Ireland’ is his country and his name it is Molloy; he pours

forth all his bitterness on it like the prophets of old.

“The last time I saw an Irish play in Dublin, the line on which the

hero made his most effective exit was ‘I hate Ireland.’ Even in the

plays of Lady Gregory, penetrated as they are by that intense love of

Ireland which is unintelligible to the many drunken blackguards with

Irish names who make their nationality an excuse for their vices and

their worthlessness, there is no flattery of the Irish; she writes

about the Irish as Molière wrote about the French, having a talent

curiously like Molière.

“In the plays of Mr. Yeats you will find many Irish heroes, but

nothing like ‘the broth of a boy.’ Now you can imagine the effect

of all this on the American pseudo-Irish, who are still exploiting

the old stage Ireland for all it is worth, and defiantly singing:

‘Who fears to speak of ’98?’ under the very nose of the police--that

is, the New York police, who are mostly Fenians. Their notion of

patriotism is to listen jealously for the slightest hint that Ireland

is not the home of every virtue and the martyr of every oppression,

and thereupon to brawl and bully or to whine and protest, according

to their popularity with the bystanders. When these people hear a

little real Irish sentiment from the Irish Players they will not know

where they are; they will think that the tour of the Irish company is

an Orange conspiracy financed by Mr. Balfour.”

“Have you seen what the Central Council of the Irish County

Association of Greater Boston says about the Irish Players?”

“Yes; but please do not say I said so; it would make them

insufferably conceited to know that their little literary effort had

been read right through by me. You will observe that they begin by

saying that they know their Ireland as children know their mother.

Not a very happy bit of rhetoric that, because children never do know

their mothers; they may idolise them or fear them, as the case may

be, but they don’t know them.

“But can you conceive a body of Englishmen or Frenchmen or Germans

publishing such silly stuff about themselves or their country? If

they said such a thing in Ireland they would be laughed out of the

country. They declare that they are either Irish peasants or the

sons of Irish peasants. What on earth does the son of an American

emigrant know about Ireland? Fancy the emigrant himself, the man who

has left Ireland to stew in its own juice, talking about feeling

toward Ireland as children feel toward their mother. Of course a

good many children do leave their mothers to starve; but I doubt if

that was what they meant. No doubt they are peasants--a name, by the

way, which they did not pick up in Ireland, where it is unknown--for

they feel toward literature and art exactly as peasants do in all

countries; that is, they regard them as departments of vice--of what

policemen call gayety....

“Good heavens!” exclaimed Bernard Shaw, waving a cutting from the

_Post_ in his hand, “see how they trot out all the old rubbish.

‘Noble and impulsive,’ ‘generous, harum-scarum, lovable characters,’

‘generosity, wit, and triumphant true love’; these are the national

characteristics they modestly claim as Irishmen who know Ireland as

children know their mother....”

“May I ask one more question, Mr. Shaw? Who is the greatest living

Irishman?”

“Well, there are such a lot of them. Mr. Yeats could give you

off-hand the names of six men, not including himself or myself, who

may possibly turn out to be the greatest of us all; for Ireland since

she purified her soul from the Clan-na-Gael nonsense, is producing

serious men; not merely Irishmen, you understand--for an Irishman is

only a parochial man after all--but men in the fullest international

as well as national sense--the wide human sense.”

“There is an impression in America, Mr. Shaw, that you regard

yourself as the greatest man that ever lived.”

“I dare say. I sometimes think so myself when the others are doing

something exceptionally foolish. But I am only one of the first

attempts of the new Ireland. She will do better--probably has done

better already--though the product is not yet grown up enough to be

interviewed. Good morning.”

From “THE GAELIC AMERICAN”

WHAT THE IRISH COUNTY ASSOCIATIONS OF BOSTON SAID OF BERNARD SHAW

January 13, 1912:--The writer of such fool conceptions is as blind as

an eight-hour-old puppy to the operation of all spiritual agencies

in the life of man. Shaw’s writings bear about the same relation

to genuine literature as Bryan O’Lynn’s extemporised timepiece,

a scooped out turnip with a cricket within, does to the Greenwich

Observatory....

Shaw stumbles along the bogs, morasses, and sand dunes of literature,

without a terminal, leading the benighted and lost wayfarers still

farther astray. His unhappy possession of infinite egotism and his

utter lack of common sense make of him a _rara avis_ indeed, a cross

between a peacock and a gander....

In conclusion let us say before we again notice this Barnum of

literature he must produce a clean bill of sanity, superscribed by

some reputable alienist.

APPENDIX IV

IN THE EYES OF OUR ENEMIES

From “AMERICA”

THE PLAYS OF THE “IRISH” PLAYERS

November 4, 1911:--The editors, like the patriots of the Boyle

O’Reilly Club who fêted him in Boston, took Mr. Yeats at his own

none too modest estimation. The United Irish Societies of this city

denounced _The Playboy_, and an advanced Gaelic organ exposed its

barbarities, but gave a clean bill of health to Mr. Yeats and the

rest of his programme. Doubtless they also had not read the plays

they approved. Well, we have read them. We found several among them

more vile, more false, and far more dangerous than _The Playboy_,

the ‘bestial depravity’ of which carries its own condemnation; and

we deliberately pronounce them the most malignant travesty of Irish

character and of all that is sacred in Catholic life that has come

out of Ireland. The details, which are even more shocking than those

of _The Playboy_, are too indecent for citation, but the persistent

mendacity of the Yeats press agency’s clever conspiracy of puff makes

it needful to give our readers some notion of their character.

Of Synge’s plays only _Riders to the Sea_, an un-Irish adaptation

to Connacht fishermen of Loti’s _Pecheurs d’Islande_, is fit

for a decent audience. None but the most rabidly anti-Catholic,

priest-hating bigots could enjoy _The Tinkers’ Wedding_.[4] The

plot, which involves an Irish priest in companionship with the

most degraded pagans and hinges on his love of gain, may not be

even outlined by a self-respecting pen. The open lewdness and foul

suggestiveness of the language is so revolting, the picture of

the Irish priesthood, drawn by this parson’s son, is so vile and

insulting, and the mockery of the Mass and sacraments so blasphemous,

that it is unthinkable how any man of healthy mind could father it or

expect an audience to welcome it. This is the “typical Irish play”

which the “Irish Players” have presented to a Boston audience.

* * * * *

The twain are kindred spirits; but in vileness of caricature and

bitterness of anti-Catholic animus, even Synge must yield to Yeats.

He also goes to tinkers for his types; and whereas Synge is content

with three, and one priest, Yeats’s _Where there is Nothing_[4]

glorifies a bevy of unbelieving tinkers and presents in contrast a

dozen vulgar-spoken monks, who utter snatches of Latin in peasant

brogue, while dancing frantically around the altar of God!

[4] Neither _The Tinkers’ Wedding_ nor _Where there is Nothing_ has

ever been given by our Company.--A. G.

From “THE GAELIC AMERICAN”

YEATS’S ANTI-IRISH CAMPAIGN

November 18, 1911:--The anti-Irish players come to New York on

Nov. 20th, and will appear first in some of the other plays. _The

Playboy_, it is announced, will be given later, but the date has

not yet been given out. The presentation of the monstrosity is a

challenge to the Irish people of New York which will be taken up.

There will be no parleying with theatre managers, or appeals to Lady

Gregory’s sense of decency. _The Playboy_ must be squelched, as the

stage Irishman was squelched, and a lesson taught to Mr. Yeats and

his fellow-agents of England that they will remember while they live.

* * * * *

When a woman chooses to put herself in the company of male

blackguards she has no right to appeal for respect for her sex.

MRS. MARY F. MCWHORTER, NATIONAL CHAIRMAN, L. A., A. O. H., IRISH

HISTORY COMMITTEE, WRITING IN “THE NATIONAL HIBERNIAN,” 1913

When it was announced about two months ago that the Abbey players

would appear in repertory at the Fine Arts Theatre, in the city of

Chicago, I made up my mind to witness all of the Abbey output, if

possible, and see if they were as black as some painted them, and now

I feel I have earned the right to qualify as a critic.

Having seen them all, I have this to say, that, with one or two

exceptions, they are the sloppiest, and in most cases the vilest,

and the most character-assassinating things, in the shape of plays

it has ever been my misfortune to see. If, as has been often stated,

the plays were written with the intention of belittling the Irish

race and the ideals and traditions of that race, the playwrights have

succeeded as far as they intended, for the majority of the plays

leave us nothing to our credit.

Thinking the matter over now, I cannot understand why _The Playboy_

was picked out as the one most dangerous to our ideals. True, _The

Playboy_ is bad and very bad, but it is so glaringly so, it defeats

its own ends by causing a revulsion of feeling.

There are other plays in the collection, however, that are apparently

harmless; comedies that will cause you to laugh heartily, ’tis true,

but in the middle of the laugh you stop as if some one slapped you

in the face. You begin to see, in place of the harmless joke, an

insidious dig at something you hold sacred, or, if it is something

you think is inspiring and patriotic, right in the midst of the thing

that carries you away for a few moments on the wings of your lofty

dreams and inspirations some monster of mockery will intrude his ugly

face, and again the doubt, “Is it ridicule?” The certainty follows

the doubt quickly, and you know it is ridicule, and immediately you

are possessed of an insane desire to seek out Lady Gregory or some

one else connected with the plays and then and there commit murder.

That is, you will, if you have the welfare of your race at heart.

Of course, if you are careless, or in some cases ignorant of the

history of Ireland, or unfamiliar with the conditions there, you will

accept the teaching of the Abbey school, and say to yourself, “The

Irish are a lazy, crafty, miserly, insincere, irreligious lot after

all.”

In _The Rising of the Moon_ our patriotism is attacked, not openly,

of course, but by innuendo. We are made to appear everything but what

we are. The policy of “Let well enough alone,” is the keynote of this

play, bringing out the avarice and selfishness that, according to the

Abbey school, is a part of our nature.

It has often been said by our enemies that to have a priest in the

family is to be considered very respectable by the average Irish

Catholic family, and to bring about this desired result we are

willing to sell our immortal souls. All this, not from motives of

piety, but to be considered respectable.

In the play _Maurice Harte_ this is brought out very forcibly. The

family sacrifices everything to keep the candidate for the priesthood

in college. The candidate has no vocation, but he is not consulted

at all. When this poor, spineless creature sees the members of the

family have set their hearts upon his becoming a priest he lets

matters drift till the day set for his ordination, and then we behold

him going mad. All very far-fetched.

We do admit that we like to have a priest in the family--what Irish

mother but will cherish this hope in her bosom for at least one of

her sons, or that one of the daughters of the house will become the

spouse of Christ? Not, however, from such an unworthy motive as

to be considered respectable, but from the pure motive of serving

Almighty God.

_The Workhouse Ward_ gives you nothing more edifying than the picture

of two hateful old men snarling at each other in a truly disgusting

manner.

_Coats_ gives the picture of two seedy, down-at-elbows editors, who,

while apparently the best of friends, still are thinking unutterable

things of each other.

_The Building Fund_ is a disgusting display of avarice and

insincerity. It strikes at the roots of all we hold sacred, and

instead of being sincere, religious Catholics, the family is depicted

as grasping, miserly creatures, who have no real love for the Church.

There is not a redeeming feature in the whole play.

_Family Failing_, to my notion, is the worst of the output. _Family

Failing_, of course, is idleness and all it carries with it. It is

a strong witness in favor of that old fallacy, so often repeated by

our enemies, that it was not the cruelty of English laws that sent

us forth wanderers, but our lazy, idle, shiftless ways. The curtain

goes down after the last act of this play on a disgusting spectacle

of a lazy uncle snoring asleep on one side of the stage, and his lazy

nephew occupying the other side, snoring also.

_Kathleen ni Houlihan_ is beautiful, but every one knows Yeats

wrote this before he became a pagan and went astray. His _Countess

Cathleen_, written since then, is a weird thing.[5] One can see he

strives after his early ideals, but it is a failure, for who can

picture a sincere, devout Catholic lady calmly selling her soul

to the devil, even though it is to purchase the souls of her poor

dependents. And it is a rather dangerous lesson it teaches to the

weak minded, when the angel comes to console the weeping peasantry

after the countess dies. Supposedly in damnation, he tells them she

is saved, because of the good intention she had in selling her soul

to Old Nick.

[5] The first performance of _The Countess Cathleen_ was in 1899;

_Kathleen ni Houlihan_ was written in 1902.

_The Magnanimous Lover_ presents the nasty problem play. Of course

our humiliation would not be complete without the “problem play.” And

the words that this play puts in the mouth of the Irish peasant girl!

My blood boiled as I listened. What on earth do our Irish peasants

know about the nasty problems so much affected by certain writers of

to-day? American newspaper correspondents have commented from time to

time on the chastity of the Irish peasants, and even the hostile ones

have marvelled at the complete absence of immorality among them. But

what is that to the Irish National (?) dramatists?

It is plain to be seen the self-styled Irish writers affect the

present-day style in vogue among French writers. We have seen the

result of all this as far as France is concerned. To-day that once

proud nation is in a pitiable condition. And so the Abbey crowd would

bring about the same undesirable conditions in Ireland if they could.

By clever innuendo they would take all the splendid ideals and noble

traditions away from the Irish and leave them with nothing high or

holy to cling to. But the Abbey butchers will not succeed. They are

reckoning without their host. The Irish character is too strong and

too noble to be slain by such unworthy methods.

The plays taken as a whole have no literary merit. The backers

of the plays preach about Art with a capital A, but they have no

artistic merit, for art is truth, and the plays are not true. The

great majority of the plays are made up of nothing more than a lot

of “handy gab.” You can hear the same any day, in any large city in

Ireland, indulged in by a lot of “pot boys,” or “corner boys,” as

they are sometimes called. (May I be permitted to use the American

vulgarism, “can-rusher,” to illustrate what is meant by “corner

boy?”) Nor is the conversation much more edifying than would be

indulged in by those doubtful denizens.

With this dangerous enemy striking at the very strands of our life

and from such a dangerous source, the necessity is greater than

ever for the men and women of our beloved society to be earnest and

honest in their efforts for the revival of Irish ideals. Brothers and

Sisters everywhere, place a little history of Ireland in the hand of

each little boy and little girl of the ancient race, and all the Lady

Gregories in the world will not be able to destroy an atom of our

splendid heritage.

APPENDIX V

IN THE EYES OF OUR FRIENDS

From “THE OUTLOOK,” December 16, 1911

THE IRISH THEATRE

BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT

In the Abbey Theatre Lady Gregory and those associated with her--and

Americans should feel proud of the fact that an American was one

of the first to give her encouragement and aid--have not only made

an extraordinary contribution to the sum of Irish literary and

artistic achievement, but have done more for the drama than has

been accomplished in any other nation of recent years. England,

Australia South Africa, Hungary, and Germany are all now seeking to

profit by this unique achievement. The Abbey Theatre is one of the

healthiest signs of the revival of the ancient Irish spirit which

has been so marked a feature of the world’s progress during the

present generation; and, like every healthy movement of the kind,

it has been thoroughly national and has developed on its own lines,

refusing merely to copy what has been outworn. It is especially

noteworthy, and is a proof of the general Irish awakening, that

this vigorous expression of Irish life, so honourable to the Irish

people, should represent the combined work of so many different

persons, and not that of only one person, whose activity might be

merely sporadic and fortuitous. Incidentally Lady Gregory teaches

a lesson to us Americans, if we only have the wit to learn it. The

Irish plays are of such importance because they spring from the

soil and deal with Irish things, the familiar home things which the

writers really knew. They are not English or French; they are Irish.

In exactly the same way, any work of the kind done here, which is

really worth doing, will be done by Americans who deal with the

American life with which they are familiar; and the American who

works abroad as a make-believe Englishman or Frenchman or German--or

Irishman--will never add to the sum of first-class achievement. This

will not lessen the broad human element in the work; it will increase

it. These Irish plays appeal now to all mankind as they would never

appeal if they had attempted to be flaccidly “cosmopolitan”; they

are vital and human, and therefore appeal to all humanity, just

because those who wrote them wrote from the heart about their own

people and their own feelings, their own good and bad traits, their

own vital national interests and traditions and history. Tolstoy

wrote for mankind; but he wrote as a Russian about Russians, and if

he had not done so he would have accomplished nothing. Our American

writers, artists, dramatists, must all learn the same lesson until

it becomes instinctive with them, and with the American public.

The right feeling can be manifested in big things as well as in

little, and it must become part of our inmost National life before

we can add materially to the sum of world achievement. When that day

comes, we shall understand why a huge ornate Italian villa or French

château or make-believe castle, or, in short, any mere inappropriate

copy of some building somewhere else, is a ridiculous feature in

an American landscape, whereas many American farm-houses, and some

American big houses, fit into the landscape and add to it; we shall

use statues of such a typical American beast as the bison--which

peculiarly lends itself to the purpose--to flank the approach to a

building like the New York Library, instead of placing there, in the

worst possible taste, a couple of lions which suggest a caricature

of Trafalgar Square; we shall understand what a great artist like

Saint-Gaudens did for our coinage, and why he gave to the head of the

American Liberty the noble and decorative eagle plume head-dress of

an American horse-Indian, instead of adopting, in servile style, the

conventional and utterly inappropriate Phrygian cap.

MARY BOYLE O’REILLY IN THE BOSTON “SUNDAY POST”

October 8, 1911;--In two shorts weeks the Irish Players have done

great and lasting service to every lover of Synge’s Irish in Boston;

a service long to be held in grateful memory, a creative force

of other good to come. Very gravely and conscientiously, Lady

Gregory and Mr. William Butler Yeats have trained their players to

interpret to the children of Irish emigrants the brave and beautiful

and touching memories which, through the ignorance of the second

generation, have ceased to be cause for gratitude or pride.

Not this alone: by their fine art, the players have dealt a death

blow to the coarse and stupid burlesque of the traditional stage

Irishman, who has, for years, outraged every man and woman of Celtic

ancestry by gorilla-like buffoonery and grotesque attempts at brogue.

... Boston owes Lady Gregory and Mr. Yeats and their company not only

grateful thanks, but a very humble apology.

From “THE FREEMAN’S JOURNAL”

October 26, 1912:--It is time the Dublin public pulled itself

together and began to take a pride in its National Theatre, this

theatre which has produced in a few years more than a hundred plays

and a company of players recognised as true artists, not only by

their fellow-countrymen, but by the critics of England and America.

The Abbey Theatre has made it possible for a writer living in Ireland

and writing on Irish subjects to win a position of equal dignity with

his fellow-artist in London or Paris; it has made it possible for an

Irish man or woman with acting ability to play in the plays of their

fellow-countrymen, and to earn a decent living and win a position of

equal respect with any English or Continental actor.

From NEW YORK “JOURNAL”

December 18, 1911:--The hysterics and rowdyism that attended the

opening of the Irish plays in New York having died away, listen to a

few facts concerning the extremely interesting and valuable work of

Lady Gregory and her associates, the Irish playwrights and actors.

Some of those entirely ignorant of that which they discussed thought

that the Irish players were wilfully irreligious, and others equally

ignorant thought that they were weakly lacking in Irish patriotism.

As a matter of fact, the Irish playwrights and actors ... are

thoroughly imbued with the Irish spirit and are trying as well as

they can to present certain Irish conditions and characters as they

are, utilising literature and the drama as mediums.

... It was thought by some good people who had not seen the plays

that they were irreligious in character and showed lack of respect

especially for the Catholic faith. But this is not true.

In the play called _Mixed Marriage_ all the bigotry and religious

stupidity is shown by the old Protestant father. The unselfishness,

real patriotism, courage, and broad-minded humanity in this play are

the possessions of the Catholics--as is, indeed, usually the case in

Ireland.

It is interesting to observe how real merit wins and overcomes

ignorant prejudice.

Many of the very men that hissed and hooted at the Irish plays on

the first night without listening to them now attend the performances

regularly.

Those that enjoy most thoroughly the wonderful wit and pathos of the

Irish race, as shown in these plays, are those Irish men and women.

Sara Allgood, as the old patient wife and mother in _Mixed Marriage_,

is a perfect picture of the womanhood that has created Ireland.

Lady Gregory and her friends have rendered a real service to this

country and to Ireland by bringing the plays here.

ANONYMOUS IN CHICAGO “DAILY TRIBUNE”

February, 1912

TO LADY GREGORY

Long be it e’er to its last anchorage

Thy oaken keel, O “Fighting Temeraire,”

Shall forth beyond the busy harbour fare.

Still mayest thou the battle royal wage

To show a people to itself; to gauge

The depth and quality peculiar there;

Of its humanity to catch the air

And croon its plaintiveness upon the stage.

Nay, great and simple seer of Erin’s seers,

How we rejoice that thou wouldst not remain

Beside thy hearth, bemoaning useless years,

But hear’st with inner ear the rhythmic strain

Of Ireland’s mystic overburdened heart

Nor didst refuse to play thy noble part!

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been

corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within

the text and consultation of external sources.

Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,

and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.

List of Illustrations: Added entry for ‘Threatening Letter’.

Pg 29: ‘been see in’ replaced by ‘been seen in’.

Pg 37: ‘a for whole’ replaced by ‘for a whole’.

Pg 37: ‘Kathleen in Houlihan’ replaced by ‘Kathleen ni Houlihan’.

Pg 62: ‘fifteen year of’ replaced by ‘fifteen years of’.

Pg 174: ‘perhaps a litte’ replaced by ‘perhaps a little’.

Pg 176: ‘tell me he cook’ replaced by ‘tell me the cook’.

Appendix V: the header line ‘From “THE OUTLOOK,” ... ’ has been

swapped with the next line ‘IN THE EYES ... ’.