THREE PLAYS

 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE THE LAND THOMAS MUSKERRY

BYPADRAIC COLUM

BOSTONLITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY

1916

TO MY FRIENDTHOMAS HUGHES KELLYTHESE THREE IRISH PLAYS

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE_

I have been asked to say something about the intentions and ideasthat underlie the three short plays in this volume. 

These plays were conceived in the early days of the Irish NationalTheatre. I had been one of the group that formed the NationalTheatre Society and I wrote plays for players who were my colleaguesand my instructors; I wrote them for a small, barely-furnished stagein a small theatre; I wrote them, too, for an audience that wastremendously interested in every expression of national character. "The Land" was written to celebrate the redemption of the soil ofIreland--an event made possible by the Land Act of 1903. This event, as it represented the passing of Irish acres from an alienlandlordism, was considered to be of national importance. "The Land"also dealt with a movement that ran counter to the rooting of theCeltic people in the soil--emigration--the emigration to America ofthe young and the fit. In "The Land" I tried to show that it was notaltogether an economic necessity that was driving young men andwomen out of the Irish rural districts; the lack of life and thelack of freedom there had much to do with emigration. 

"The Land" touched upon a typical conflict, the conflict between theindividual and that which, in Ireland, has much authority, thefamily group. This particular conflict was shown again in "TheFiddler's House. " where the life, not of the actual peasants, but ofrural people with artistic and aristocratic traditions, was shown. 

I tried to show the same conflict working out more tragically in theplay of middle-class life, "Thomas Muskerry. " Here I went above thepeasant and the wandering artist and came to the official. I hadintended to make plays about the merchant, the landowner, thepolitical and the intellectual leader and so write a chapter in anIrish Human Comedy. But while I was thinking of the play that isthird in this volume my connection with the National Theatre Societywas broken off. "Thomas Muskerry" was produced in the Abbey Theatreafter I had ceased to be a member of the group that had founded it. 

 PADRAIC COLUM NEW YORK _August, 1916_

 _CONTENTS_

 AUTHOR'S NOTE THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE THE LAND: AN AGRARIAN COMEDY IN THREE ACTS THOMAS MUSKERRY

 _THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE_

 _CHARACTERS_

CONN HOURICAN, a Fiddler. MAIRE (Mary) [1] HOURICAN, his daughter. ANNE HOURICAN, a younger daughter. BRIAN MACCONNELL, a younger farmer. JAMES MOYNIHAN, a farmer's son. 

The action passes in the Houricans' house in the Irish Midlands. 

[Footnote 1: The name is pronounced as if written "Maurya. "]

ACT I

 SCENE: _The interior of a farmer's cottage; the kitchen. The entrance is at the back right. To the left is the fire-place, an open hearth, with a fire of peat. There is a room door to the right, a pace below the entrance; and another room door below the fire-place. Between the room door and the entrance there is a row of wooden pegs, on which men's coats hang. Below this door is a dresser containing pretty delpht. There is a small window at back, a settle bed folded into a high bench; a small mirror hangs right of the window. A backed chair and some stools are about the hearth. A table to the right with cloth and tea things on it. The cottage looks pretty and comfortable. It is towards the close of an Autumn day_. 

 _James Moynihan has finished tea; Anne Hourican is at the back, seated on the settle knitting, and watching James. James Moynihan is about twenty-eight. He has a good forehead, but his face is indeterminate. He has been working in the fields, and is dressed in trousers, shirt, and heavy boots. Anne Hourican is a pretty, dark-haired girl of about nineteen_. 

 _James Moynihan rises_. 

ANNEAnd so you can't stay any longer, James?

JAMES_(with a certain solemnity)_ No, Anne. I told my father I'd beback while there was light, and I'm going back. _(He goes to the rack, takes his coat, and puts it on him)_ Come over to our house to-night, Anne. I'll be watching the girls coming in, and thinking on yourself;there's none of them your match for grace and favour. My fatherwanted me to see a girl in Arvach. She has three hundred pounds, besides what the priest, her uncle, will leave her. "Father, " says I, "listen to me now. Haven't I always worked for you like a steady, useful boy?" "You have, " says he. "Did I ever ask you for anythingunreasonable?" says I. "No, " says he. "Well then, " says I, "don'task me to do unreasonable things. I'm fond of Anne Hourican, and notanother girl will I marry. What's money, after all?" says I, "there's gold on the whin-bushes if you only knew it. " And he had toleave it at that. 

ANNEYou always bring people around. 

JAMESThe quiet, reasonable way is the way that people like. 

ANNEStill, with all, I'm shy of going into your house. 

JAMESDon't doubt but there'll be a welcome before you; come roundwith Maire. 

 _Anne rises, and comes to him. She has graceful, bird-like movements. _

ANNE_(putting her hands on James' shoulders)_ Maybe we won't have achance of seeing each other after all. 

 _James Moynihan kisses her reverently_

JAMESSit down now, Anne, because there's something I want to showyou. Do you ever see "The Shamrock"?

ANNEVery seldom. 

 _James and Anne go to the settle; they sit down_. 

JAMESThere be good pieces in it sometimes. There's a poem of minein it this week. 

ANNEOf yours, James? Printed, do you mean?

JAMESAy, printed. _(He takes a paper out of his pocket, and opens it)_It's a poem to yourself, though your name doesn't come into it. _(Gives paper)_ Let no one see it, Anne, at least not for the present. And now, good-bye. 

 _Goes to the door. Anne continues reading the verse eagerly. At the door James turns and recites_:--

 When lights are failing, and skies are paling, And leaves are sailing a-down the air, O, it's then that love lifts my heart above My roving thoughts and my petty care; And though the gloom be like the tomb, Where there's no room for my love and me, O, still I'll find you, and still I'll bind you, My wild sweet rose of Aughnalee!

That's the first stanza. Good-bye. 

 _James goes out. Anne continues reading, then she leaves the paper down with a sigh_. 

ANNEO, it's lovely! _(She takes the paper up again, rises and goesto the door. She remains looking out. Some one speaks to her)_ No, Brian, Maire's not back yet. Ay, I'll engage she'll give you a callwhen she does come back. _(Anne turns back. She opens drawer in thedresser and puts paper in. She begins to clear table, putting thedelpht back on dresser. To herself, anxiously)_ I hope Maire won'tforget to call at the mill. _(Room door right opens, and ConnHourican comes down. Conn Hourican is a man of about fifty, withclear-cut, powerful features, his face is clean-shaven, hisexpression vehement. His dress is old-fashioned. He wearsknee-breeches, a frieze coat rather long, a linen shirt with alittle linen collar and a black string for bow. He carries a slickand moves about restlessly)_

ANNEHad Maire any talk of going to the mill, father?

CONNI heard nothing of it. 

ANNEI hope she'll mind of it. We must get the meal there, and notbe going to the shop so often. 

CONNI suppose we must. 

 _He moves about restlessly_. 

ANNEAnd I was just thinking that one of us ought to go to Arvach onTuesday, and get the things there. 

CONNThe mean, odious creatures!

 _Anne is startled. She turns from dresser_. 

ANNEWhat are you thinking of, father?

CONNThat den of robbers. Well, well, I'm finished with them now;but I'm a proud man, and a passionate man, and I'll be even withthem yet. 

ANNEThere's no comfort in going into rough places. 

CONNYou know nothing at all about it. Were the men in yet?

ANNEJames Moynihan was here, because he had to go away early; butBrian MacConnell is outside still. Father, you were home late twonights this week. 

CONNAnd is a man to have no life to himself? But sure you knownothing at all about it. I'm going out now to give Brian MacConnella hand. 

ANNEIt's hardly worth while going out now. 

CONNThere's still light enough to do a bit of mowing, and you oughtto know that it isn't right to neglect the boy that's come to do aday's work with you. _(Going to the door)_ Many's the day I put inwith the scythe in Ireland, and in England too; I did more thanstroll with the fiddle, and I saw more places than where fiddlingbrought me. _(Brian MacConnell comes to the door)_ I was just goingout to you, Brian. I was telling the girl here that it's not rightto neglect the boy that's giving you a day's work out of his owngoodness. 

BRIANI'm only coming in for a light. 

CONNAs you're here now, rest yourself. 

 _Brian MacConnell comes in, and goes over to the hearth. He is dark and good-looking, and has something reckless in his look. He wears corduroy trousers, and a shirt loose at the neck. Anne comes to Brian. Conn stands at entrance, his back turned_. 

BRIAN_(lighting his pipe with a coal)_ When do you expect Maire back?

ANNEShe'll be here soon. Shell give you a call if you're outside, BRIANHow is it you couldn't keep James Moynihan?

ANNEIt's because you didn't say the good word for me, I must think. Be sure you praise me the next time you're working together. 

BRIANWill you do as much for me?

ANNEIndeed, I will, Brian. Myself and another are making a devotionto Saint Anthony. 

BRIANAnd what would that be for?

ANNEThat the Saint might send us good comrades. 

BRIANI thought it was Saint Joseph did that for the girls. 

ANNESure we couldn't be asking the like from him. We couldn't talkto Saint Joseph that way. We want a nice young saint to be looking at. 

 _Conn turns from the door_. 

CONN_(bitterly)_ It'll be a poor season, Brian MacConnell. 

BRIANThe season's not so bad, after all. 

CONNGod help them that are depending on the land and the weatherfor the bit they put into their heads. It's no wonder that thepeople here are the sort they are, harassed, anxious people. 

ANNEThe people here mind their own business, and they're a friendlypeople besides. 

CONNPeople that would leave the best fiddler at the fair to go andlook at a bullock. 

ANNE_(to Brian)_ He's not satisfied to have this shelter, Brian. 

CONN_(to Brian)_ I'm saying, Brian, that her mother had this shelter, and she left it to go the roads with myself. 

ANNEThat God may rest my mother. It's a pity she never lived tocome back to the place. But we ought to be praising grandmothernight and day, for leaving this place to Maire. 

CONNYour grandmother did that as she did everything else. 

ANNE_(to Brian)_ Now, Brian, what would you do with a man thatwould say the like?

 _Anne goes outside. _

CONN_(to Brian)_ It's small blame to the girl here for thinkingsomething of the place; but I saw the time, Brian MacConnell, when Icould make more playing at one fair than working a whole season inthis bit of a place. 

BRIANGirls like the shelter, Conn. 

CONNAy, but the road for the fiddler. I'm five years settled here, and I come to be as well known as the begging ass, and there is asmuch thought about me. Fiddling, let me tell you, isn't like a boy'swhistling. It can't be kept up on nothing. 

BRIANI understand that, Conn. 

CONNI'm getting that I can't stand the talk you hear in houses, wars and Parliaments, and the devil knows what _ramais_. 

BRIANThere's still a welcome for the man of art, somewhere. 

CONNThat somewhere's getting further and further away, Brian. 

BRIANYou were not in the town last night?

CONNI was not, Brian. God help me, I spent the night my lone. 

BRIANThere's Sligomen in the town. 

CONNIs there, now? It would be like our times to play for them. _(Anne comes in with some peat)_ Anne, would you bring me down myspectacles? They're in the room, daughter. _(Anne goes to room. Connturns to Brian eagerly) I_ suppose the Sligomen will be in Flynn's. 

BRIANThey were there last night. 

CONNListen, Brian, I've a reason for not going to Flynn's. Wouldyou believe it, Brian, Flynn spoke to me about the few shillings Iowe him?

BRIANThat was shabby of him. He got a lot out of you in the way ofplaying. 

CONNIt's just like them. Besides, Maire keeps us tight enough, andI often have to take treats from the men. They're drovers andrambling labourers and the like, though, as you say, they've thesong and music, and the proper talk. Listen, Brian, could you leavea few shillings on the dresser for me?

BRIANTo be sure I will, Conn. 

 _Brian goes to the dresser, and puts money on a shelf_. 

CONN_(with dignity)_ Thank you, Brian. There's few I'd let put meunder a compliment; but I take it from you. Maire, as I said, is acareful girl, but some of us must have our freedom. Besides, Brian, the bird that sings lone sings slow. The man of art must have hislisteners. _(Conn takes the money off dresser)_ Anne, daughter, what's keeping you there? Sure the spectacles were in my pocket thewhole time, child. _(Anne comes dawn)_ When I spoke against thepeople about here, I was leaving you out of it, Brian. 

BRIANI'm fond of tune, though it wasn't here I got fond of it. 

 _Brian goes to the door_. 

ANNE_(going to Brian)_ You won't be rambling again, Brian?

BRIANI'm settled here, Anne; I made it up with my brothers. 

ANNEThey used to say that a MacConnell quarrel was a lasting quarrel. 

BRIANMaybe we're working the bad blood out of us. 

ANNEDon't be staying out long, Brian. 

BRIANTill Maire gives me the call. 

 _Brian MacConnell goes out_. 

ANNEWe oughtn't to take another clay from Brian MacConnell. There'sonly the patch at the back to be mown, and you could do that yourself. 

CONNYou can depend on me for the mowing. I'm going up now, to goover an oul' tune I have. 

ANNEJames Moynihan would come over and stack for us. 

CONNJames Moynihan is a decent boy, too. 

ANNEYou won't be going out to-night, father?

CONNNow, how's a man to know what he'll be doing?

ANNEIt leaves me very anxious. 

CONNI'll give you this advice, and it's proper advice to give to agirl thinking of marrying. Never ask of your menkind where they'regoing. 

ANNEThe like of that brings bad luck on a house. 

CONNYou have too much dead knowledge, and the shut fist nevercaught a bird. 

ANNEI only wish you were settled down. 

CONNSure I am settled down. 

ANNEI can't speak to you, after all. 

CONNYou're a good girl, Anne, and he'll be lucky that gets you. Anddon't be grieving that you're not bringing James Moynihan a fortune. You're bringing him the decency of birth and rearing. You're like thelone pigeon I often think--the pet that doesn't fly, and keeps nearthe house. 

ANNEThat's the way you always treat me, and I never can talk to you. 

CONN_(at window)_ Hush now, here's the other, your sister Maire. She's like the wild pigeon of the woods. _(Maire Hourican comes in)_We were discoursing on affairs, Maire. We won't be bringing BrianMacConnell here tomorrow; there's only the bit at the back to be mown, and I'll do that myself. 

 _Conn Hourican goes into the room right; soon after the fiddle is heard. Anne goes to the settle, and takes up her knitting. Maire takes her shawl off, and hangs it on the rack. Maire Hourican is over twenty. She is tall, and has easy, graceful movements; her features are fine and clear-cut; the nose is rather blunted, the mouth firm. Her gaze is direct and clear. She has heavy auburn hair, loose now, and falling. Maire comes down to the table, opens basket, and takes some flowers from top. She turns to dresser and arranges some of the flowers in a jar_. 

MAIREWe'd have no right to take another day from Brian. And whenthere's no one here to-morrow, you and me could draw some of the turf. 

ANNEYour hair is loose, Maire. 

 _Maire goes to the mirror and fixes her hair_. 

MAIREThe wind blew it about me, and then I let it down. I came homeby the long way, just to feel young again with my hair about me. 

ANNEAnd did you meet any one?

MAIREIndeed I did. I met James Moynihan. 

ANNEJames had to go early. They're building at his place. 

MAIREIndeed they ought to let James build a house for himself. ANNESome day they will, Maire. 

MAIRE Butwe must not let some day be a far day. 

ANNE_(hesitatingly)_ I think I'll show you something. 

MAIRE What is it, daughter?

 _Anne rises and goes to the dresser. She opens drawer. Maire watches her_. 

MAIRE_(waiting)_ I made a good girl out of you, anyway. 

ANNEYou wouldn't let me use stroller words when we were on the road. Do you mind of that?

MAIREI kept you to the mannerly ways. I have that to my credit. 

ANNE_(showing Maire the verses)_ Read that, Maire. It was Jamesthat made it. 

MAIREIt's a song, I declare. 

ANNENo, Maire, it's a poem. 

MAIREA poem? O, that's grand!

 _She begins to read it eagerly_. 

ANNEAnd, Maire--

MAIREWell?

ANNEJames says it's about me. 

MAIREAbout you? O, I wish some one would put me into a song, or into a poem;I suppose a poem would be best. You might ask James. No, I'll coax himmyself. Ah, no I won't, Anne. 

ANNEYou may keep it for a while, but don't let any one know. 

MAIREHe must be very fond of you, and I thinking him so quiet. 

ANNE_(happy)_ He has grand thoughts about me. 

MAIREWell, you'll be seeing him to-night. 

ANNEI don't know that I'll go out to-night. 

MAIRESure Grace Moynihan asked us to go over. 

ANNEI'm shy of going into James'. 

MAIREAnne, you're the only one of us that has any manners. Maybeyou're right not to go. 

ANNEI'll stay in to-night. 

MAIREThen Brian and myself will go to Moynihan's. 

ANNEYou'd get an indulgence, Maire, if you missed a dance. 

MAIREWould it be so hard to get an indulgence? _(She takes flowersfrom dresser and puts them in window)_ The house looks nice thisevening. We'll keep Brian here for a while, and then we'll go toMoynihan's. 

ANNEFather will be going out to-night. 

MAIRE_(turning suddenly from window)_ Will he?

ANNEHe will. I think I ought to stay in. Maire, father was in onlya while before you the night before last and another night. 

MAIREO, and I thinking things were going so well with us. He'sdrinking again. 

ANNEHe's going to Flynn's again. 

MAIREDisgracing us again. 

ANNEI'll stay in to-night. 

MAIREI'm tired of this. 

ANNEDon't say it that way, Maire. 

MAIREWhat will people say of us two now?

ANNEI'll talk to him to-night. 

MAIRENo, you're going out--you're going to Moynihan's--you're goingto see your sweetheart. 

ANNEI think you're becoming a stranger to us, Maire. 

MAIREYou're going to Moynihan's to-night, and I'm going, too. But I'm goingto settle this first. Once and for all I'm going to settle this. 

 _The fiddle has ceased. As Maire goes towards the room, Conn Hourican comes down, the fiddle in his hand_. 

CONNWere you listening to the tune I was playing? Ah, that was areal oul tune, if there was anyone that knew it. Maire, my jewel, were you listening?

MAIREI heard you. 

CONNIt was a real oul' tune, and while I was playing it a greatscheme came into my head. Now, listen to me, Maire; and you listen, too, Anne. Both of you would like to see your father having what'shis due after all, honour and respect. 

MAIREBoth of us would like to see our father earn the same. 

CONNI could earn the same, ay, and gold and silver cups besides, ifI had the mind to earn them. 

 _He puts fiddle on table and prepares to speak impressively_. 

CONNLet ye listen to me now; I've a scheme to put before ye. When Iwas going over the oul tune, I remembered that I'd heard of a Feis[2] that's coming on soon, the Feis of Ardagh. I'm thinking of goingthere. There will be great prizes for some one; I don't doubt butI'd do at Ardagh better than I did at the Feis of Granard, wherepeople as high as bishops were proud and glad to know Conn Houricanthe Fiddler. 

[Footnote 2: Feis, pronounced Fesh, a musical or literary gathering, with competitions. ]

ANNEFather, you've a place to mind. 

CONNI'm tired of that kind of talk; sure I'm always thinking of theplace. Maire hasn't little notions. What do you say to it, Maire, mygirl?

MAIREWhat do I say? I say you're not a rambler now, though indeedyou behave like one. 

CONNYou have something against me, Maire. 

MAIREI have. 

CONNWhat has she against me, Anne?

MAIREAll the promises you broke. 

CONNYou were listening to what the town is saying. 

MAIREWhat does the town know? Does it know that you stripped us ofstock and crop the year after we came here? Does it know that Anneand myself, two girls of the roads, had to struggle ever since tokeep a shelter?

CONN_(bitterly)_ It knows that. It couldn't help but know it, maybe. But does it know all the promises you made and broke?

CONN_(angrily)_ Hush now; I'll hear no more. I went my own wayalways, and I'll go my own way always. 

 _He goes to the entrance, and remains with his back turned. Maire goes to Anne_. 

MAIRE_(raising her voice)_ Ay, he'll go his own way always. Whatwas the good of working and saving here?

ANNEBe quiet with him. 

MAIREHe'll go his own way always, and it's foolish of us to befretting for him night and day. 

 _Maire sits on stool and puts her hands across her face_. 

CONN_(turning his head)_ Fretting for me. It was too easy that Ireared you. 

ANNEGod help Maire! She kept the house together at the worst, andshe is always fretting for us. 

CONNI'm oul' enough to mind myself. Let her remember that. 

ANNEIt's you that ought to remember that. 

CONN_(going to Maire)_ Did I ever give the harsh word to you, child?

 _No answer_. 

CONNThere, there; I never could see tears in a woman's eyes; there, there, colleen. I'm an oul' man; I won't be a trouble to you long. 

MAIRE_(rising)_ Why need you play in Flynn's? You're as good as anythat goes there. 

CONNI know that. I'm disgusted with Flynn. May hell loosen hisknees for him! I'll go in and throw his money on the counter. 

MAIRESome one else can do that. Promise me you won't go near theplace. 

CONNYou'll have me promise. I promise. 

MAIRETake this in your hand and promise. It's a medal that belongedto mother. 

 _She takes a medal from her neck_

CONN_(taking the medal)_ I'm disgusted with Flynn. I promise you, Maire. 

MAIRENow you've honour and respect. 

CONNAnd what about Ardagh, Maire?

MAIRESure, you're not the rambling fiddler any more. 

CONNThat would be the good rambling. I see the trees making shadowsacross the roads. 

MAIREWe'll talk about it again. 

ANNEBrian MacConnell will be coming in now. CONN I'm going out toBrian MacConnell. 

 _He goes to the door_. 

ANNETell Brian to come in now. 

 _Conn Hourican goes out. There is a pause. Maire hums a tune as she goes to the mirror_. 

MAIREAm I looking well to-day?

ANNE_(rather distantly)_ You're looking your best, I think. _(Seriously)_ Maire, I didn't like the way you talked to father. 

MAIRE_(petulantly)_ What have you against it?

ANNEYou're becoming a stranger to us, Maire. 

MAIRE_(as an apology)_ I'm out often, I know, but I think as muchas ever of the house, and about you and father. You know we couldn'tlet him go to the Feis at Ardagh. We couldn't let him go off like arambling fiddler. 

ANNEWe couldn't let him go off by himself. 

MAIREYou're going to Moynihan's. 

ANNEMaybe I'll go. 

MAIREAnne, honey, do something for me. 

ANNEWhat will I do?

MAIREYou'll meet father coming up with Brian, and take him away. 

ANNEAnd will you tell me everything to-night?

MAIREWho else would I talk to but yourself, Nancy? _(Anne goes out)_I wish Anne hadn't spoken to me like that. I feel the like of that. _(Desperately)_ Well, I'll pray for nothing now but to look my best. _(She goes to the fire. Brian MacConnell comes in)_ You're welcome, Brian. 

BRIANWe didn't finish to-day. I'll come in to-morrow and finish. 

MAIREO no, Brian, we won't take another day from you. 

BRIANWell, what's a day after all? Many's the day and night I putin thinking on you. 

MAIREBut did you do what I asked you to do?

BRIANI did. I made it up with my brothers. It was never my waybefore. What I wanted I took with the strong hand; or if I mightn'tput the strong hand on it, I left it alone. 

MAIRE_(eagerly)_ Tell me what your brother said to you. 

BRIANWhen I came up to the door, Hugh came out to meet me. "What destruction are you bringing me?" he said. "There's my hand, "says I, "and I take your offer. " MAIRE Ah, that's settled. You couldsettle anything, Brian. _(She goes to the settle and sits down)_ Iwonder could you settle something for us?

BRIANWhat is it, Maire?

MAIREIt's my father. He wants to be rambling again. He wants to begoing to some Feis. 

BRIANSure, let him go. 

 _He takes her hand_. 

MAIREI couldn't, Brian. Couldn't you help us? Couldn't you keepfather's mind on the right things?

BRIANSure, let the fiddler go on the roads. 

MAIREYou might stay here this evening with ourselves. Father wouldbe glad to talk with you. 

BRIAN_(putting his arm around her)_ But I want the two of us to beseen in Moynihan's to-night. 

MAIRE_(resistance in her voice)_ Stay here with us, and let allthat go by. 

BRIANHugh will be there with that woman that brought him the bigfortune; and I want you to take the shine out of her. 

MAIRE_(rising)_ I was out often lately. You know that, Brian. 

 _She goes to chair at table, and sits away from him_. 

BRIAN_(rising and going to her)_ But this night above all you mustbe with me. 

MAIRE_(turning to him impulsively)_ Stay here and I'll be as niceto you as if we were in another house. _(He kisses her. She risesand goes from him)_ If you knew me at all, Brian MacConnell, that'snot the way you'd treat me. 

BRIANAre you not coming out with me?

MAIREYou must leave me to myself now. _(Conn Hourican comes in)_ IsAnne with you, father?

CONNShe's gathering posies or something like that. Brian, did youhear about the Feis at Ardagh?

MAIRE_(with vehemence)_ Oh, what's the good of talking about that?You can't go. 

CONNCan't go, did you say, girl?

MAIREOh, how could you go?

CONNIs that the way? Well, God help us. Give me that fiddle till Ileave it up. 

 _He takes the fiddle off dresser, and turns to go_. 

MAIREFather, let me be with you to-night; oh, I'm sorry if I vexedyou. _(No reply)_ Well, stay with Brian MacConnell; I'm going out toAnne. 

 _Maire goes out. Brian goes to rack, and puts on his coat_. 

BRIANAre you coming, Conn? I'm off. 

CONNWhere to, man?

BRIANTo Flynn's. 

CONNI can't be going, I'm sorry to say. 

BRIANI'm going anyway. It's a great thing to be in the company ofmen. 

CONNAy, in troth. Women, Brian, leave the heart of one very lonesome. 

BRIAN_(masterfully)_ Why can't you come out? I thought you weregoing to-night. 

CONNI can't, Brian, and that reminds me. Give these few shillingsto Flynn for me. I'll owe them to you still. 

BRIANI'm not going to be bothered by the like. Why can't you come?

CONNI promised Maire. 

 _Brian strides away. He turns, comes back deliberately, and sits on table beside Conn_. 

BRIANThey'll be all looking out for you at Flynn's. 

CONNWell, the next time they see me they may respect me. 

BRIANSome of the boys will take it very unkindly. CONN They'redecent enough fellows, some of them. 

BRIANAnd above all nights they'll be watching out for you this night, on account of the Sligomen. 

CONNThey're decent enough fellows, as I said, and I'll be sorry todisappoint them. 

BRIANThe Sligomen will have great stories about Shawn Heffernan. 

CONNShawn Heffernan! Is that impostor still alive?

BRIANHe is, and for fiddling these Sligomen think there's not thelike of him in the whole of Ireland. 

CONNGod help them if that's all they know. We played against eachother at the Granard Feis. He got the prize, but everybody knew thatit was me played the best. 

BRIANThere's few of them alive now that mind of the Granard Feis. He got the prize, and there's no talk of you at all. 

CONNNo talk of me at all?

BRIANIt's said that since you settled down you lost your art. 

CONNAnd what had the men at Flynn's to say about that? BRIAN Theybragged about you for a while, but the Sligomen put them down. 

CONNI wonder would we have time to go up, play a few tunes, andcome back, while Maire would be doing something? It would be a pitynot to give them fellows a lesson and close their ignorant mouths forthem. I wonder would we have time? _(Anne comes in with Maire)_ Ithought you went somewhere and left Brian and myself here. 

ANNEWe're going somewhere and Brian might come with us. 

MAIREEvery one is going to Moynihan's. 

CONNIt's a pleasant house, a pleasant house. Brian will make his_ceilidh [3]_ with me. We might go over a few tunes. 

ANNELet Brian come where there are girls that might miss him. 

MAIREAnne, you're a great one for keeping up the story that girlsare always thinking about men. 

ANNEAnd so they are. Just as men are always thinking about girls. 

MAIREYou'd make a good ribbonman. [4] You'd put a face on anythingyou said. 

[Footnote 3: Celidh, pronounced cayley, a visit. ]

[Footnote 4: A ribbonman--a member of a secret agrarian society. ]

ANNERibbonism and secret societies were denounced off the altar. 

MAIREGoodness! The men will begin to think they've secrets worthtelling. 

ANNEHave you secrets worth telling, Brian?

MAIREI daresay he has. There are foolish women in the world. 

ANNEAre you coming to Moynihan's, Brian?

BRIANNo. I'm going where there's men. 

MAIRECome, Anne, till I deck you out. Come here, daughter, don'twear flowers. I think they're unlucky. Here I am talking like this, and I going to a dance. I suppose I'll dance with seven or eight andforget what's on my mind. .. . Everyone is going to Moynihan's exceptthe men here. Are you going out, father?

CONNI'm making a _ceilidh_ with Brian. 

MAIREWell, God be with you both. Come on, Anne. 

 _Maire takes down her shawl, and puts it over her head. She stands at the door, watching Anne, who goes to Brian. _

ANNEBrian, what have you against Moynihan's?

BRIANNothing at all. I may go in. MAIRE Come on, Anne. God be withyou both. 

 _Maire and Anne go out. They are heard talking for a while. Conn goes to the door_. 

CONNMaire and Anne are turning the bohereen. [5] Come on now. 

 _He takes his fiddle and begins to wrap it up eagerly_. 

BRIANAy, let's go. 

CONN_(at door)_ I never forget, I never forget. The Granard Feis isas fresh in my mind as the day I played at it. Shawn Heffernan, indeed! I never forget. I never forget. 

 _Conn Hourican and Brian MacConnell go out_. 

[Footnote 5: Bohereen--the little path going from the cottage tothe main road. ]

CURTAIN

ACT II

 _The next day: The scene is as in previous Act. It is now in the forenoon. Maire Hourican is seated at the fire in a listless attitude. Anne is busy at the dresser. Maire rises_. 

MAIREWe shouldn't have stayed at Moynihan's so late. 

ANNEIndeed it would have been better to go home, but I was surethat Brian MacConnell would come in. 

MAIREWell, it was his own loss if he didn't come. Maybe there wasone there that I liked better. 

ANNEYou couldn't have liked Connor Gilpatrick better than BrianMacConnell. 

MAIREConnor's the best-looking boy in the country. Was it noticedthat we were together often?

ANNE_(significantly)_ Peggy Carroll noticed it. 

MAIREWell, 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 thedoor, I wouldn't have turned my head towards him. 

ANNESure, you wouldn't compare a young boy like Connor Gilpatrickwith Brian MacConnell?

MAIREI wouldn't have turned my head towards Brian. O! never expect kindnessfrom men. Why did you let me stay on? I'm afraid to look at myselfin the glass to-day. _(She goes over to the mirror)_ You werehard on me, Anne, yesterday. 

ANNEI didn't like the way you talked to father. 

MAIREI think I'm getting different to what I used to be. Well, I'vereason to be sorry for what I did yesterday. _(She is at window)_Was Peggy Carroll vexed at the way I went on?

ANNEShe never took her eyes off the pair of you. You know she'svery fond of Connor. 

MAIREAnne, never remind me of my foolishness, I'm heartsick ofmyself to-day. 

ANNEI'll comb out your hair for you, and you'll look well enough. 

MAIREThen you're expecting Brian MacConnell?

ANNEIt's likely he'll come in to see if there's anything to be done. 

MAIREI 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 easywith Brian MacConnell when he comes in. 

MAIREFather's coming up the path. Anne!

ANNEWhat is it, Maire?

MAIREFather wasn't in at all, last night. 

ANNEThen he went to Flynn's, after all. 

MAIREAy, he went to Flynn's. 

 _She goes to Anne_. 

ANNEO Maire, what will become of us all?

MAIREI don't know. 

 _Maire goes to the settle, and sits down_. 

ANNEWhat will we do with him at all?

 _Conn Hourican comes in_. 

CONNGod save you! _(He looks around)_ Well, I came back to ye. 

ANNEYou did, God help us! And we depending on you. It's the bad wayyou always treated us. 

CONNDid you hear what happened to me, before you attack me?

ANNEWhat happened to you? What always happens to you?

CONNI wonder that a man comes in at all! The complaints against himare like the Queen's Speech, prepared beforehand. 

ANNEEver since I can remember, you treated us like that. Bringingus into drinking-places and we little. It's well we got to knowanything, or got into the way of being mannerly at all. 

CONNYou know too much. I always said that. Is James Moynihan cominghere to-day?

ANNENo, he isn't coming here to-day. 

CONNWell, 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?

MAIREIt's no matter at all. 

CONNI went over to Flynn's, I may tell you. 

ANNEIn troth we might have known that. 

CONNBut did you hear what happened to me?

ANNEHow could we hear? It was Maire went to the door, and there youwere coming up the path; and we thinking you were in bed, restingyourself. 

CONNI 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 wereSligomen in the town, Maire? Well, one of them was in the way ofrewarding the prizes. I told you about the Feis; well, it's nomatter now, I'll say no more about that. At all events the man Imentioned wanted to know what music was in the country, so he sent amessage to myself. 

ANNE_(as satirical as she can be)_ That was kind of him. 

CONNIt was. I could do no less than go. I'll rest myself now, andthen get ready for the mowing. _(He goes to the room door; he turnsagain 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'dhave followed you. I had to make haste. 

MAIREIt's no matter at all now. 

CONNI'll stretch myself on the bed before I begin work. Anne, didyou say you were leaving something in the room for me?

ANNEI suppose I'll have to leave the tea in the room for you. 

 _She gets the tea ready. Maire remains motionless_. 

CONNWell, I have the pattern of daughters, anyway. I wouldn't givethis house for the praise of Ireland, no, not if they carried me ontheir backs. _(Anne takes the tea up to the room)_ It's a pity youweren't there, Maire, though of course I wouldn't bring you intosuch a place. But they were decent fellows, decent, warm-heartedfellows. If you were to see their faces when I played _An ChaitinDonn_. I'll warrant they'll be whistling it, though they never heardthe tune before. And the manners they have! I offered the fiddle toone of them. "No, " says he, "not a string will I touch while themaster of us is here. " That's something like the spirit. _(Maire hasturned to him and is attentive)_ But there, I won't fill myself upwith false music telling you about it all. 

 _He turns to the room_. 

MAIREBring up your fiddle. 

CONN_(taking fiddle and going towards room again)_ It will be asgood as sound sleeping for me. I'll never forget it. Flynn willnever forget it. It will be the making of Flynn. 

 _Maire rises_. 

MAIREYou've only your fiddle; we shouldn't forget that. 

 _Conn goes up to the room. Maire turns to the fire. Anne comes down_. 

ANNEO Maire, what will become of us at all?

MAIREHe is very pleased with himself. He has only his fiddle, weshouldn't forget that. 

ANNEIt will be a long time till he does the like again. 

MAIREIt will be a long time, I suppose. Both of us might be in adifferent house and have different cares. 

ANNEThat would be terrible. I'll never leave him, Maire. MAIRE Youcan't say the like now. 

ANNEWhy?

MAIREHow could you take such things upon you and life stretchingout before you? You're not young enough, Anne. Besides, it's notwhat we say; it's what we feel. No, it's not what we feel either;it's what grows up in us. 

ANNEHe might never do the like again. 

MAIREMany's the time mother said that, and she and me lying together. 

ANNEWill we ever get out of it, Maire?

 _James enters_. 

MAIREYou have only a while to stay with us. 

ANNEO James, what will your father say if he hears of you giving usanother day?

JAMESMy father took a stick in his hand this morning, and went offwith himself. 

MAIREYou're welcome, James. It was a pleasant time we had in yourhouse last evening. 

JAMESI hope you liked the company, Maire. I'm afraid there was verylittle to be called refined or scholarly, and the conversation attimes was homely enough. But we did our best, and we were proud tosee you. 

MAIRESit down, James. 

 _James sits on chair, near table. Maire is seated at fire, left of James. Anne leans against table, right of him_. 

JAMESYour father is outside, maybe?

MAIRENo. He's above in the room. 

JAMESYes. Practising, I suppose. Them that have the gift have tomind 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 mustbe spared from the world if we are to lay up riches in the mind. 

ANNEI hope there's nothing wrong at home?

JAMES_(turning to Anne)_ To tell you the truth, Anne, and to keepnothing back, there is. 

MAIREAnd what is it, James?

JAMES_(turning to Maire)_ Anne was talking to my father last night. 

ANNEIndeed I was, and I thought him very friendly to me. 

JAMESAy, he liked you well enough, I can tell you that, Anne. Thismorning when he took a stick in his hand, I knew he was making readyfor 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. 

ANNEWell?

JAMES"Anne Hourican is too young, " said my father; "she's a nicegirl, and a good girl, but she's too young. "

MAIRESure in a while Anne will be twenty. 

JAMES_(turning to Maire)_ Ten years from this father would stillthink Anne too young. And late marriages, as everybody knows, is thereal weakness of the country. 

ANNEI thought your father liked me. 

JAMESHe likes you well enough, but, as he says, "what would she bedoing here and your sisters years older than herself?" There's truthin that, mind you. I always give in to the truth. 

MAIREJames?

JAMES_(turning to Maire)_ Well, Maire?

MAIREIs Anne a girl to be waiting twenty years for a man, likeSally Cassidy?

JAMESGod forbid, Maire Hourican, that I'd ask your sister to waitthat length. MAIRE She hasn't got a fortune. We were brought updifferent to farmers, and maybe we never gave thought to the like. 

JAMESShe has what's better than a fortune. 

MAIREWhy aren't your sisters married off?

JAMESBig fortunes are expected with them. 

MAIREAnd they look to your wife to bring a big fortune into thehouse?

JAMESAy, they do that. 

MAIREYou, James, ought to have some control in the house. You'rethe only son. Your father is well off. Get him to fortune off yoursisters, and then bring Anne to the house. 

JAMESBut how could I get father to fortune off the girls?

MAIREHow? 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. 

JAMESI give in to the truth of that, Maire. 

MAIREWhat will come of you giving in to the truth of it? But sureyou ought to remember, Anne. 

ANNE_(taking James's hand)_ James has the good way with people. 

MAIREWell, I suppose it will come out right for you in the end. Youare both very deserving. _(She rises)_ But some time or another wehave to take things into our own hands. 

JAMESIndeed that's true, Maire. 

 _Maire goes to back_. 

ANNE_(holding James's hand)_ Did you make any more songs, James?

JAMESI have a song in my head since last night. 

ANNEThe one in the paper is lovely. I know it by heart. 

JAMESThe next I make will be ten times better. 

 _Conn Hourican comes down_. 

CONNI heard your voice, James, and I thought I'd come down. It'svery good of you to come here again. I'll be out with you to-day. 

JAMESIt'll be a good day from this on. Were you practising above, Mister Hourican?

CONNWell, no, James, I wasn't practising. I was at a big gatheringlast 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_, CONNWell, God help us. _(He turns to go back to the room. Mairecomes down from back)_ Are you going out, Maire?

MAIRENo, 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. 

MAIREI don't know what to say to you now. 

CONNIt was the music and the strange faces that drew me. 

MAIREI know that now. 

CONNIt will be a long time till I break my word to you again. 

MAIREI'll never ask for your word again. 

CONN_(warmly)_ I can tell you this, Maire. There's many's the placein Ireland where Conn Hourican's word would be respected. 

MAIREI'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 youtalking 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 wallsof the house were crowding in on me. 

CONNYou were partly to blame, Maire. You left me there very lonesome. 

MAIREI 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 myselfI don't know. Anne and James Moynihan will marry, I hope. Neither ofus have fortunes, and for that reason our house should be wellspoken of. 

CONNSure I know that. I wouldn't bring the shadow of a disgracenear ye. 

MAIREIf the father isn't well spoken of, how could the house bewell spoken of? They're big drinkers that go to Flynn's, and it'seasy for the fiddler to get into the way of drinking. 

CONNI won't go to Flynn's when you put it that way. 

MAIREI'll ask for no word. I'll let you know the real way of thehouse, and then trust you. 

CONNYou're a good girl, Maire. I should have been said by you. 

MAIREFrom this out there will be dances at the schoolhouse and thelike 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 oflate, and it makes me very lonesome. 

MAIREThat's foolishness. 

CONNI was very lonesome when you left me. You don't know how I wastempted, Maire. There was Brian MacConnell putting on his coat to goto Flynn's, and talking of the Sligomen. 

MAIRE_(startled)_ And was it to Flynn's that Brian MacConnell went?

CONNIt was Brian that brought me to Flynn's. 

MAIREWas it Brian MacConnell that brought you to Flynn's?

CONNIt was. 

MAIRE_(passionately)_ You must never go to Flynn's. 

CONNI'm ashamed of myself. Didn't I say that, Maire?

MAIRE_(with hardness)_ You must never go again. 

CONNAnd is a man to have no life to himself?

MAIREThat's talk just. It's time you thought of your own place andyour own children. It's time you gave up caring for the praise offoolish people, CONNFoolish people, did you say?

MAIREAy, foolish people. You had all your life to yourself, and youwent here and there, straying from place to place, and caring onlyfor the praise of foolish people. 

CONNGod help you, if that's your way of thinking! Sure the worldknows that a man is born with the gift, and isn't the gift then thesign of the grace of God? Foolish people, indeed! Them that know thegift have some of the grace of God, no matter how poor they may be. 

MAIREYou'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. 

MAIRELet you stay here. 

CONN_(going towards entrance)_ I'll go out of the house, I tell you. 

MAIRENo. 

 _Conn goes over to the fire. _

CONNGod help me that ever came into this country at all. _(He sitsdown on the armchair, his hands resting on his stick)_ I had friendsonce, 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. 

MAIREWhy can't you stay here? There's lots to be done here. Ourfields are a laughing-stock to the neighbours, they're that poor andwasted. Let us put all our minds into working, and have a good placeof our own. 

CONNAy, and the grabbers and informers of this place would thinkwell of you then. 

MAIREWho do you call grabbers and informers?

CONNThe people of this place. The people _you_ want to shine before. 

MAIREI don't want to shine before the people. 

CONNI'm not saying against you, Maire. 

MAIREYou're wrong in thinking I want to shine at all. 

CONNSure you go to every dance and ceilidh; and to every housewhere you can show off your face, and dancing, and conversation. 

MAIREDo I? Maybe I do. Every girl does the like. 

CONNI'm not saying against it. 

 _Pause. _

MAIREYou think I'm like yourself, wanting the praise of the people. 

CONNAnd what's the harm if you do?

MAIRENo harm at all. But I don't go to houses to show myself off. 

CONNTroth and you do, Maire. 

 _He rises and goes towards the entrance, and remains looking out_. 

MAIREI won't believe it. 

 _She goes to the settle. Anne comes in. Anne goes to the glass to fix her hair_. 

CONNHad you a good night at Moynihan's, Anne?

ANNEA sort of a good night. 

CONNI was going to tell you about a man I met last night. He had asong about your grandmother. 

ANNEWas grandmother a great beauty, father?

CONNHonor Gilroy had good looks, and indeed she made the most ofthem. 

MAIREIt's likely there was some to tell her that she was showing off. 

CONNNo one was to her liking unless they praised her. 

ANNEAh well, a fiddler ought to forgive that to a woman. MAIREFiddlers 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. 

MAIREAnd fiddlers and women oughtn't be hard on each other. 

CONNDo you say that, Maire?

MAIRE_(rising and going to him)_ I say it, father. 

CONNGod forgive me if I vexed you, Maire. 

ANNEIt'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 andgoes to Maire)_ What did you say to him?

MAIRE_(looking at Conn)_ He doesn't feel it at all. Father willalways be the fiddler, no matter what we say. 

ANNEMaire. Come and talk to me. _(They sit at fire)_ I was talkingto 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. 

ANNEBut sure I won't be far off, Maire. 

MAIREAy, but it's terrible to face things alone. 

 _James has come to the door. Conn and James have been talking. Theyturn in_. 

CONNBut I'll be glad enough to have the scythe in my hands after itall, James. 

JAMESAnne was telling me how you took the victory from Connaught. 

CONNStill I'm sorry for him! That poor Heffernan! He'll never holdup his head again. 

JAMESSure I'd have it in a ballad that would be sung in his own town. It would be well worth putting into a ballad. 

CONNWell indeed, it would make a right good ballad, James. 

JAMESI'd like to make a ballad about it, that would be sung allover Connaught. 

CONNAnd why wouldn't you do it, James Moynihan? Sure it would bethe making of you. It would be sung all over Ireland, and your nameto it. Do you hear that, Maire? Do you hear that, Anne?

JAMESI'm saying that I'd like to do a ballad about your father'svictory. 

CONNMaybe you could have it this night week, James? ANNE Will it bea poem or a ballad, James?

 _Anne goes to him_. 

CONNIf you had it this night week, we could bring the boys to theplace. What do you say to that, Maire? We'll bring the boys herethis night week to hear James Moynihan's ballad. 

MAIREI was thinking of the Feis at Ardagh. 

CONNThe Feis at Ardagh?

MAIREMaybe you'll be going to it this night week. 

CONNSure you're not joking with me, Maire?

MAIRENo. 

 _She rises_. 

CONNGod forgive me, Maire, if I vexed you. 

 _Maire goes up to Conn's room_. 

CONNAnne, jewel, had Maire anything to say about Ardagh?

ANNEWe weren't talking about that at all. 

JAMESPlay me a rouse on the fiddle and maybe the ballad will comeinto my head. 

 _Maire comes down, a fiddle in her hands_. 

MAIREHere's the fiddle that was your favourite, the Granard fiddle. 

CONNAnd this is the fiddle I'll bring with me to Ardagh. 

ANNEAnd is he going to Ardagh?

JAMESAnd what about the ballad, Mister Hourican?

CONNI leave it all to Maire now. How well she bethought of theGranard fiddle. 

MAIREFather, 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_. 

CONNHowever it is, I could never play my best in this place. Thehouses are too scattered, I often think. And it doesn't do for thefiddler to remain too long in the one place. The people get too usedto him. Virgil made better songs than any man, but if Virgil wassung in the fairs constant, divil much heed would be given to hissongs. 

JAMESNow, I often thought of that. 

CONNAnother thing, James Moynihan, Ribbonism and the Land Leagueruined the country. 

 _Maire goes out_. 

JAMESBut sure we must be doing something for the Cause. 

CONNThey were all Fenians here when I came into this country first, over twenty years ago. 

 _He rises and goes into room_. 

JAMESWell, he's a great man, Conn Hourican. _(James rises and goesto fire. Conn comes out of room, carrying a greatcoat)_ How do youthink you'll do at Ardagh?

CONNI think I'll do very well at Ardagh, James. 

 _He leaves coat on settle_. 

JAMESEverything's ready for the start. 

CONNAy, 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. IfI was staying in this place any longer, James, I'd put my fiddle inthe thatch, and leave it there for the birds to pick holes in. 

JAMESBut won't you be back here after the Feis at Ardagh?

CONNWell, I will, for a while anyway. 

JAMES And would you be going off again after a while?

CONNI'm thinking that when my daughters are settled I'll have theyears before me. I was reared in a place south of this, and I'd liketo go back there for a while. 

JAMESBut wouldn't you come back to us?

CONNThere's many's the place in Ireland that I never saw, town andcountryside. _(He takes the greatcoat off settle and puts it on him)_Tell me, James Moynihan, is your father satisfied with thesettlement that Maire's making for yourself and Anne?

JAMESMy father is very well satisfied. 

CONN_(going towards his room)_ And so he ought to be, James Moynihan. 

 _Goes into his room_. 

JAMESMy father had always a great liking for Anne. _(Anne comes outof 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_. 

ANNESure I was never fond of any one but yourself. 

JAMESAnd I never cared for any one after I saw you. 

ANNEI used to hear that you were fond of another girl. 

JAMESI was fond of the girl that used to be in the newspaper shopin the town. 

ANNEAnd used you to talk with her?

JAMESThe elbows were worn out of my coat with leaning on thecounter to talk with her. But she married a policeman after that. Hewas a friend of mine, too. It was me that got him the words andmusic for "I'll hang my harp on a willow tree"--a song that he wasalways looking for. 

ANNEDid you make any songs about the girl?

JAMESI did not. 

ANNEOh, James, I'm glad of that. I'm glad you made no songs about her. 

JAMESAre you content to marry me in the town of Ardagh, after theFeis, as Maire wishes?

ANNEIt will be strange to be married in Ardagh, away from thepeople I know. 

JAMESIt will be lucky getting married after the Feis. 

ANNEJames, it's a great trial for a girl to face marriage; but, James, I'm very fond of you. 

 _James kisses her_. 

JAMESI don't know what to think of them writers who say that theIrish girls haven't the heart for love. 

ANNEIs Maire outside?

JAMESShe went out. 

ANNEIt's a wonder that Brian MacConnell isn't here before this. 

 _Anne rises. Maire comes in_. 

ANNEIs there no one coming here?

MAIREThere is no one on the road. 

ANNEBrian MacConnell is late in coming. 

 _Maire comes up to the fire. Anne stands with her. James goes to entrance, and remains looking out_. 

MAIREI saw Brian yesterday. 

ANNEAnd did you tell him that you were going at the sunset?

MAIREI told him we were going in the evening. 

ANNEMaybe you were distant with Brian?

MAIREHe looked like a man that something had happened to. ConnorGilpatrick 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 plantedbefore the door?

 _Conn leaves fiddle on dresser, and comes to him_. 

CONNThey might be very becoming, James. 

JAMESMy father was saying that the front looked very bare. 

CONNA row of trees, when they'd grow, would make a great difference. 

JAMESThat's what my father was saying. 

 _They talk, Conn leaning on the half-door. _

ANNEI'm glad to be here. It would be very strange for me to bemarried, and in another house. 

MAIREI was thinking, Anne, that father and myself ought to stay awhile on the road, till you and James get settled here. 

ANNEListen, Maire. James says that he'll be giving this place backto you after a while. With this start he'll be able to get a houseand land near his father's place. He has fine schemes for makingthis 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. _

JAMESI'll make a path down to the road, and, with a row of treesbefore the door, the place will be well worth looking at. 

MAIREWe won't know the place after a while. 

JAMESWe can never forget, Maire, that it is to you that we owe theplace and the start in life. 

MAIREI never looked on the place as my own. 

JAMESAnd now that the land is in Anne's name, my father will beglad to stock the place. 

MAIREYou have all our will of the place. Father, speak to James andtell him that he has your will of the place. 

CONN_(turning from door)_ Indeed you have, James, and we're overgladto have Anne settled with a steady boy. 

JAMESWell, long life to you, Conn; and may the man of art neverwant fame nor a friend. 

CONN_(going to dresser)_ Drink to that, James. 

 _He takes up a bottle and fills two glasses_. 

JAMESI never touch anything, Conn; but if Anne won't think bad of me, I'll drink to your prosperity. 

ANNEI 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'lllet you know. 

 _Anne goes out. James takes the glass from Conn_. 

JAMESHere's to the fiddler, first of all. May it be again like inthe days of Ireland's glory, when the men of art had their rightsand their dues. 

 _He drinks_. 

CONNLong life to yourself, James Moynihan. _(Conn drinks)_ I knowyou a long time now, and I know nothing to your discredit. You'reone of the few people here that are to my liking. Well, if I'mnothing to them, they're nothing to me. I lived my own life, and Ihad the gift. 

JAMES_(with excitement)_ If Anne was here, I'd drink to her. I mustgo after Anne. May she never repent of her choice. _(He goes to thedoor, then turns round)_ But sure I'm forgetting the jewel of themall, yourself, Maire Hourican. Long may you reign in splendour andsuccess, 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_. 

CONNIt's strange to be looking across that door, and the sunsetting for our journey. And now we're letting the place go out ofour hands. Well, Honor Gilroy's bit of land has been brought to agreat many people. 

 _He comes down to dresser. Maire goes up to window, and remains looking out_. 

CONNIs there any one coming here, Maire?

MAIREThere is no one coming. It's no wonder James's father thoughtthe place was bare-looking. 

CONNWell, the bit of land is going to James, and I was saying thatit has been brought to a great many people. 

 _Maire takes paper out, and looks at it_. 

CONNWhat paper is that, Maire?

MAIREIt's a paper that I have to put my name to. _(She goes andsits 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. 

CONNWell, isn't James's father the councillor, with his paper andhis signing? _(He brings pen and ink from dresser, and leaves themon table. Maire makes preparations for writing. Conn lights candleat fire, and brings it over to table)_ And does that give the placeto Anne for ever?

MAIREIt gives it to herself. _(Maire signs the paper with theslowness of one unaccustomed to writing)_ It will be a great changefor us when we come back to this place. 

CONN_(going to chair at fire)_ It will be a great change for youand me, no matter what we say. 

MAIREAnd now that James's father is putting stock on the land, theMoynihans will have great call to the place. 

CONNMaire, your father is thinking of taking to the road. 

MAIREAnd how long would you be staying on the roads?

CONNAh, what is there to bring me back to this country, Maire?

MAIRESure you're not thinking of going on the roads altogether?

CONNThe road for the fiddler. 

MAIREWould you leave the shelter and the settled life? Would you goon the road by yourself?

CONNAnne and yourself will be settled, and I'll have the years before me. 

MAIREThen you'd go on the roads by yourself?

CONNSure I did it before, Maire. 

MAIREAh, but do you not remember the prayers that mother used tosay for us to get some shelter? Do you not remember how proud andglad we were when we come by a place of our own?

CONNThe shelter was for Anne and yourself. What had I to do with it?

MAIREThe Moynihans are not the sort to make us feel strangers inthe place. 

CONNThe place was your own, Maire, and you gave it to your sisterrather than see her waiting years and years. 

MAIREI came to give it to her after I saw how hard I was on yourself. 

CONNListen, my jewel, even if the Moynihans had nothing to do withthe place, what would Conn Hourican the fiddler be doing in thiscountry?

MAIREAh, there are many you might play to; there are lots that knowabout music. There's Michael Gilpatrick and John Molloy--

CONNAnd that's all, Maire. MAIRE You might go to Flynn's an odd time. 

CONNAnd what do they know about music in Flynn's? Young CorneyMyles was up there a while ago, and you'd think, from what the mensaid, that there was never the like of Corney for playing, and theboy isn't three years at the fiddle, MAIREFather, stay here where the shelter is. 

CONNSure, 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. 

MAIREThe people here are kinder than you think. 

CONNBut what has Conn Hourican to do with them anyhow? The verygreatest were glad of my playing, and were proud to know me. 

MAIREI know that, father. 

CONNWell, one is always meeting new life upon the roads, and I wantto 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 oughtto go with you, for we were always together. 

CONNAh, Maire, there are some that would keep you here. 

MAIREDo you know who would keep me here?

CONNBrian MacConnell is very fond of you. 

MAIREDo you know that, father?

CONNAnd 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. 

MAIREOh, are we going on the roads?

CONNTo Ardagh, Maire. 

MAIRETo Ardagh. 

CONNI'll go up now, and make ready. 

 _He takes candle off table, and goes back towards room door. _

MAIREOh, what do I know about Brian MacConnell, after all?

CONNBrian is wild, but he is free-handed. 

MAIREWild and free-handed! Are all men like that? Wild andfree-handed! But that's not the sort of man I want to look to now. 

CONNThat's nothing to Brian's discredit. MAIRE Ah, what do I knowabout Brian MacConnell, except that he's a man of quarrels andbroken words?

 _Conn holds up his hand warningly. Brian MacConnell comes to door_. 

CONN_(opening half-door)_ You're welcome, Brian. 

BRIANThank you for the good word, Conn. 

 _He comes in_. 

MAIREYou're welcome, Brian MacConnell. 

CONN_(taking candle off dresser)_ I was going up to the room tomake ready, but Maire will be glad to speak to you. I knew youwouldn't let us go without wishing us the luck of the road. 

 _Goes up to room. Maire goes and sits on settle_. 

MAIREBrian MacConnell has come to us again. 

BRIANI'm before you again. Let me tell you what I was doing since Iwas here last. 

MAIREWhat were you doing, Brian? Making quarrels, may be?

BRIAN_(startled)_ Why do you say that?

MAIREI'm thinking that you were doing what would become you, BrianMacConnell, with the free hand and the wild heart. 

BRIANThey were telling you about me?

MAIREI know you, Brian MacConnell. 

BRIANYou don't know how I care for you, or you couldn't talk to melike that. Many's the time I left the spade in the ground, and wentacross the bogs and the rushes, to think of you. You come between meand the work I'd be doing. Ay, and if Heaven opened out before me, you would come between me and Heaven itself. 

MAIREIt's easy taking a girl's heart. 

BRIANAnd 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. 

MAIREIt's easy to take a girl's heart with the words of a song. 

BRIANI'm building a house for you, Maire. I'm raising it day by day. 

MAIREYou left me long by myself. 

BRIANIt's often I came to see the light in the window. 

MAIREBrian, my father wants to go back to the roads. 

 _Brian goes and sits by her_. 

BRIANI know that Conn would like to go back. 

MAIREHe wants to go on the roads, to go by himself from place toplace. 

BRIANMaybe he has the right to go. 

MAIREHe has the right to go. It's the life of a fiddler to be onthe roads. 

BRIANBut you won't go on the roads. 

MAIREOh, what am I to do, Brian?

BRIANDo you think of me at all, Maire?

MAIREIndeed I think of you. Until to-day I'd neither laugh nor crybut on account of you. 

BRIANI'm building a house, and it will be white and fine, and it'sfor you that I'm building the house. 

MAIREYou're going to ask for my promise. 

BRIANGive me your promise before you go to Ardagh. 

 _Maire rises_. 

MAIREIf I gave you my promise now, I'd have great delight in comingback to this place again. 

BRIANYou won't deny me, my jewel of love?

MAIREOh, I'm very fond of Aughnalee. I feel that I was reared inthe place. I'd like to live all my life in the place. 

BRIANAnd why would you go from it? MAIRE You might come with us toArdagh, Brian. 

BRIANYour father might stay with us when he'd be in this country. 

MAIREThat's true; I'm glad to think on that. 

BRIANGive me your promise, Maire. 

MAIREWe'll talk on the road. There's the blackbird. I'll hear himevery evening on the road, and I'll think I'm a day nearer home. 

BRIANSure you'd leave them all to come with me. 

MAIREAy, I think I would. _(She takes up a new kerchief, and putsit on her, standing before the mirror)_ Do you know where I saw youfirst, Brian?

BRIANWhere was it, Maire?

MAIREIn a field by the road. You were breaking a horse. 

BRIANI was always a good hand with a horse. 

MAIREThe poor beast was covered with foam and sweat, and at lastyou 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?

BRIANIs it building with me?

MAIREBuilding 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. Iquarrelled with them all and I am nearly heart broken for what I did. 

MAIREAh, Brian MacConnell, I don't know what to say to you at all. 

BRIANYou'll give me your promise, Maire?

MAIREPromise. I've no promise to give to any man. 

BRIANRemember that these days past I had only yourself to think on. 

MAIREThere was never a man but failed me some time. They all leaveme to face the world alone. 

BRIANYou said that I might go with you as far as Ardagh. 

MAIRENo. You're not to come. Myself and my father go to Ardagh byourselves. 

BRIANHow was I to know that you would take that quarrel to heart?

MAIREI thought you were strong, but I see now that you are only aman 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 Ishould be with him, to watch over him. 

BRIANWhat shelter will you have on the road?

MAIREI'll have the quiet of evening, and my own thoughts, and I'llfollow the music; I'll laugh and hold up my head again. 

BRIANMaire Hourican, would you leave me?

MAIREWhat can I do for you, Brian MacConnell?

 _Brian goes to settle, and puts his hands before his eyes. She goes to him_. 

BRIANYou have thought for your father, and you have no thought for me. 

MAIREIndeed I have thought for you. 

BRIANO Maire, my jewel, do you care for me at all?

 _She kisses him_. 

BRIANMaire!

 _She rises_. 

MAIREI'm going to call my father. 

BRIANYou go to him, and you go from me. 

MAIREYou are both my care: my father and yourself. 

BRIANWhat will become of me when you go?

MAIREIsn't it right, Brian, that I should be with my father on theroads? Even if I was in your house, I would be thinking that Ishould watch over him. 

BRIANThen it's good-bye you'd be saying?

MAIREGood-bye, Brian MacConnell. 

BRIAN_(at door)_ Good-bye, Maire Hourican; gold and jewels, shipson 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_. 

JAMESWe gathered them for you, Maire. They're the woodbine. We weresaying that you would be glad of the flower of the road. _(Maireputs her hand on the flowers. James goes to the fire)_ Anne remembersa good deal about the road. She minds of the grassy ditches, wherethe two of you used to catch the young birds. 

MAIREI mind of them too. 

JAMESAnd the women that used to be with your mother, that used totell you the stories. 

MAIREAnd the things we used to talk about after a story! There'sthe turn of the road, and who's waiting for you? If it's yoursweetheart, what will you say to him?

JAMESI'm often taken with the thought of the road! Going to thefair on a bright morning, I'd often wish to leave everything asideand 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_. 

CONNWhat music is that, James?

JAMESSome of the boys are coming to meet you, and they have afiddle with them. 

CONNWell, now, that's friendly of the boys. 

JAMESI'll go out now, and let them know that you're coming. _(He goesto door)_ Brian MacConnell turned the other way, and Annewent after him. 

 _He goes out_. 

CONN_(anxiously)_ Why did Brian MacConnell go away?

MAIREWe didn't agree; no, not after all you said. 

CONNMaybe we'll see Brian at Ardagh. 

MAIREHow would he ever come back when I bid him go from me?

CONNYou bid Brian go from you! _(He goes to the window)_ And therewas myself that had the mind to go on the road that I see stretchedout before me. 

MAIRE_(going to him)_ You need never come back here. 

CONNI'll come back with yourself. 

MAIREI remember the time when we were on the roads. I remembersights we used to see! Little towns here, and big towns far away, and always the road. 

CONNAnd the lasting kindness of the road!

MAIREThere is no need for you to come back here, father. 

CONNAnd would you follow the road?

MAIREGo back to the fiddler's life, and I'll go back with you. Wellsee Anne and James at Ardagh, and we'll be at their marriage. _(She turns round as though to take farewell of the house)_ It'sright 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!

MAIREHow do you know that?

ANNEYou bid Brian MacConnell go from you, and where else would yougo 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_. 

CONNDon't be grieving that we're going from you, Anne. When youcome back here again, your own care will begin. I know that yougrieve 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 ConnHourican the fiddler going on his travels again. No man knows howhis own life will end; but them who have the gift have to follow thegift. I'm leaving this house behind me; and maybe the time will comewhen I'll be climbing the hills and seeing this little house withthe tears in my eyes. I'm leaving the land behind me, too; butwhat'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 thegrass 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_. 

MAIRETell Brian MacConnell that when we meet again maybe we can bekinder 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 theTheatre of Ireland, in the Rotunda, Dublin, with the following cast:--

CONN HOURICAN Joseph GogginMAIRE HOURICAN Maire MacShiubhlaighANNE HOURICAN Eileen O'DohertyBRIAN MACCONNELL Ed. KeeganJAMES MOYNIHAN P. MacShiubhlaigh. 

_THE LAND:AN AGRARIAN COMEDY IN THREE ACTS_

CHARACTERS

MURTAGH COSGAR, a farmerMATT, his sonSALLY, his daughterMARTIN DOURAS, a farmerCORNELIUS, his sonELLEN, his daughterA 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_. 

SALLYOh, you may go on grunting, yourself and your litter, it won'tput me a bit past my own time. You oul' black baste of a sow, sureI'm slaving to you all the spring. We'll be getting rid of yourselfand your litter soon enough, and may the devil get you when we loseyou. 

 _Cornelius comes to the door. He is a tall young man with a slight stoop. His manners are solemn, and his expression somewhat vacant_. 

CORNELIUSGood morrow, Sally. May you have the good of the day. _(He comes in)_

SALLY_(impetuously)_ Ah, God reward you, Cornelius Douras, forcoming in. I'm that busy keeping food to a sow and a litter of pigsthat I couldn't get beyond the gate to see any one. 

CORNELIUS_(solemnly)_ You're a good girl, Sally. You're not likesome I know. There are girls in this parish who never put hands to athing till evening, when the boys do be coming in. Then they beginto stir themselves the way they'll be thought busy and good about ahouse. 

SALLY_(pleased and beginning to chop again with renewed energy)_ Oh, it's true indeed for you, Cornelius. There are girls that be deckingthemselves, and sporting are themselves all day. 

CORNELIUSI may say that I come over to your father's, MurtaghCosgar's house, this morning, thinking to meet the men. 

SALLYWhat men, Cornelius Douras?

CORNELIUSThem that are going to meet the landlord's people with anoffer for the land. We're not buying ourselves, unfortunately, butthis is a great day--the day of the redemption, my father callsit--and I'd like to have some hand in the work if it was only to saya few words to the men. 

SALLYIt's a wonder Martin, your father isn't on the one errand withyou. 

CORNELIUSWe came out together, but the priest stopped father and uson the road. Father Bartley wanted his advice, I suppose. Ah, it's apity the men won't have some one like my father with them! He was ingaol for the Cause. Besides, he's a well-discoursed man, and areading man, and, moreover, a man with a classical knowledge ofEnglish, 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. _

CORNELIUSI was just telling Sally here what a great day it is, father. 

MARTIN DOURASAy, it's a great day, no matter what our own troublesmay be. I should be going home again. _(He takes a newspaper out ofhis pocket, and leaves it on the table)_

CORNELIUSWait for the men, father. 

MARTIN DOURASMaybe they'll be here soon. Is Murtagh in, Sally?

 _Cornelius takes the paper up, and begins to read it_. 

SALLYHe's down at the bottoms, Martin. 

MARTIN DOURASHe's going to Arvach Fair, maybe. 

SALLYHe is in troth. 

MARTIN DOURASI'll be asking him for a lift. He'll be going to theFair when he come back from the lawyer's, I suppose?Ay, he'll be going to-night. _(She gathers the chopped cabbageinto 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 DOURASCornelius!

 _Cornelius goes to Martin_. 

SALLY_(outside)_ Cornelius, give me a hand with this. 

 _Cornelius turns again_. 

MARTIN DOURASCornelius, I want to speak to you. 

 _Cornelius goes to him_. 

MARTIN DOURASThere is something on my mind, Cornelius. 

CORNELIUSWhat is it, father?

MARTIN DOURASIt'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 inthe County Leitrim. "

CORNELIUSIf it was in Dublin itself, Ellen is qualified to take iton. And won't it be grand to have one of our family teaching in aschool?

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 oldman 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 wholends back all the marbles he's won, and plays again, just for thesake of the game. 

CORNELIUSWe were in dread of Ellen going to America at one time, and then she went in for the school. Now Matt Cosgar may keep herfrom the school. Maybe we won't have to go further than this houseto see Ellen. 

MARTIN DOURASI'm hoping it'll be like that; but I'm in dread thatMurtagh 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 wemight talk of it. I'm afeard of Ellen going. 

CORNELIUS_(at the door)_ It's herself that's coming here, father. 

MARTIN DOURASMaybe 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_. 

ELLENIs it only ourselves that's here?

MARTIN DOURASOnly ourselves. Did you get any news to bring you over, Ellen?

ELLENNo news. It was the shine of the day that brought me out; andI was thinking, too, of the girls that are going to America in themorning, and that made me restless. 

 _Martin and Cornelius look significantly at each other_. 

MARTIN DOURASAnd did you see Matt, Ellen?

ELLENHe 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'tknow how I can come into this house, for it's always like MurtaghCosgar. 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'sthe farmer's son became a labourer for the sake of a woman he caredfor!

CORNELIUSAnd are you not thinking about the school at all, Ellen?

ELLENI'll hear about it some time, I suppose. 

MARTIN DOURASYou're right to take it that way, Ellen. School doesn't meanscholarship now. Many's the time I'm telling Cornelius that aman farming the land, with a few books on his shelf and a fewbooks in his head, has more of the scholar's life about him than theyoung fellows who do be teaching in schools and teaching in colleges. 

CORNELIUSThat's all very well, father. School and scholarship isn'tthe one. But think of the word "Constantinople!" I could leave offherding and digging every time I think on that word!

MARTIN DOURASAh, it's a great word. A word like that would make youthink for days. And there are many words like that. 

ELLENIt's not so much the long words that we've to learn and teachnow. When will you be home, father? Will Cornelius be with you?

MARTIN DOURASEllen, I have news for you. There is a school inLeitrim that Father Bartley can let you have. 

ELLENIn Leitrim! Did you tell Matt about it?

MARTIN DOURASI did not. 

 _Sally is heard calling "Cornelius. " Cornelius goes to the door. _

CORNELIUSHere's Matt now. The benefit of the day to you, Matt. 

 _He stands aside to let Matt enter. Matt Cosgar is a young peasantof about twenty-eight. He is handsome and well-built. He is dressedin a trousers, shirt, and coat, and has a felt hat on. Corneliusgoes out. _

MATT_(going to Ellen)_ You're welcome, Ellen. Good morrow, Martin. It's a great day for the purchase, Martin. 

MARTIN DOURASA great day, indeed, thank God. 

MATTAh, it's a great thing to feel the ownership of the land, Martin. 

MARTIN DOURASI don't doubt but it is. 

MATTLook at the young apple-trees, Ellen. Walking up this morning, I felt as glad of them as a young man would be glad of thesweetheart he saw coming towards him. 

ELLENAy, there's great gladness and shine in the day. 

MATTIt seems to trouble you. 

ELLENIt does trouble me. 

MATTWhy?

ELLENEverything seems to be saying, "There's something here, there's something going. "

MATTAy, a day like this often makes you feel that way. It's a greatday for the purchase though. How many years ought we to offer, Ellen?

 _Martin goes out_. 

ELLENTwenty years, I suppose---_(suddenly)_ Matt!

MATTWhat is it, Ellen?

ELLENI have got an offer of a school in the County Leitrim. 

MATTI wish they'd wait, Ellen. I wish they'd wait till I hadsomething to offer you. 

ELLENI'm a long time waiting here, Matt. 

MATTSure we're both young. 

ELLENThis is summer now. There will be autumn in a month or two. The year will have gone by without bringing me anything. 

MATTHe'll be letting me have my own way soon, my father will. 

ELLENMurtagh Cosgar never let a child of his have their own way. 

MATTWhen the land's bought out, he'll be easier to deal with. 

ELLENWhen he owns the land, he'll never let a son of his marry agirl without land or fortune. 

MATTEllen, Ellen, I'd lose house and land for you. Sure you knowthat, Ellen. My brothers and sisters took their freedom. They wentfrom this house and away to the ends of the world. Maybe I don'tdiffer from them so much. But I've put my work into the land, andI'm beginning to know the land. I won't lose it, Ellen. Neither willI lose you. 

ELLENO Matt, what's the land after all? Do you ever think of America?The streets, the shops, the throngs?

MATTThe land is better than that when you come to know it, Ellen. 

ELLENMay be it is. 

MATTI've set my heart on a new house. Ay and he'll build one for uswhen he knows my mind. 

ELLENDo you think he'd build a new house for us, Matt? I couldsettle down if we were by ourselves. Maybe it's true that there arethings stirring and we could begin a new life, even here. 

MATTWe 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. _

MURTAGHGood morrow to you. _(Turning to Matt)_ When I get speakingto that Sally again, she'll remember what I say. Giving cabbage tothe pigs, and all the bad potatoes in the house. And I had to get upin 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 andput 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 DOURASEllen, I'll have news for you when I see you again. I've made up my mind to that. 

ELLENAre you going to the fair, father?

MARTIN DOURASAy, with Murtagh. 

ELLENGod be with you, father. _(She goes out)_

MARTIN DOURASWhat purchase are you thinking of offering, Murtagh?

MURTAGH COSGARTwenty years. 

MARTIN DOURASIt'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 sharein the day after all. 

MARTIN DOURASAy, it's a pity indeed. 

 _Murtagh goes to the door. _

MURTAGH COSGAR_(with suppressed enthusiasm)_ From this day outwe're planted in the soil. 

MARTIN DOURASAy, we're planted in the soil. 

MURTAGH COSGARGod, it's a great day. 

 _Cornelius comes back. _

CORNELIUSThis is a memorial occasion, Murtagh Cosgar, and I wishyou 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. _

CORNELIUSHe's gone up to get the papers. Father, we must give themen understanding for this business. They must demand the mineralrights. Here they are. Men of Ballykillduff, I greet your entrance. 

 _Six men enter discussing. _

FIRSTMAN We'll leave it to Murtagh Cosgar. Murtagh Cosgar isn't agrazier or a shopkeeper. 

SECOND MANIt's the graziers and shopkeepers that are putting abusiness head on this. 

THIRD MANIf we're all on the one offer, we can settle it at thelawyer's. 

FOURTH MANSure it's settled for twenty years on the first-term rents. 

FIFTH MANThere are some here that would let it go as high astwenty-three. 

SIXTH MANWhat does Murtagh Cosgar say?

SOME OF THE MENWell take the word from him. 

MARTIN DOURASHe mentioned twenty years. 

SECOND MANNot as a limit, surely?

OTHER MENWe're not for any higher offer. 

SECOND MANWell, men, this is all I have to say. If you can get itfor twenty, take it, and my blessing with it. But I want to bedealing with the Government, and not with landlords and agents. Tohave a straight bargain between myself and the Government, I'd put itup to twenty-three, ay, up to twenty-five years' purchase. 

THIRD MANMore power to you, Councillor. There's some sense in that. 

SIXTH MANI'm with the Councillor. 

FIRST MANIt's all very well for graziers and shopkeepers to talk, but whatabout the small farmer?

FOURTH MANThe small farmer. That's the man that goes under. 

FIFTH MAN_(knocking at the table)_ Murtagh Cosgar! Murtagh Cosgar!

CORNELIUSI tell you, men, that Murtagh Cosgar is in agreement with myself. Twenty years, I say, first term, no more. Let my father speak. 

MARTIN DOURASThere's a great deal to be said on both sides, men. 

FIRST MANHere's Murtagh now. 

MURTAGH COSGARTwenty years first term, that's what I agreed to. 

SECOND MANAnd if they don't rise to that, Murtagh?

MURTAGH COSGARLet them wait. We can wait. I won't be going with you, men. I had afew words with the agent about the turbary this morning, and maybeyou're better without me. 

FIRST MANAll right, Murtagh. We can wait. 

FOURTH MANWe know our own power now. 

FIFTH MANCome on, men. 

MURTAGH COSGARIf they don't rise to it, bide a while. We can make a new offer. 

SECOND MANWe want to be settled by the Fall. 

THIRD MANThe Councillor is right. We must be settled by the Fall. 

SIXTH MANA man who's a farmer only has little sense for a business like this. 

SECOND MANWe'll make the offer, Murtagh Cosgar, and bide a while. But we mustbe settled this side of the Fall. We'll offer twenty years first term. 

MURTAGH COSGARDo, and God speed you. 

CORNELIUS _(to the men going out)_I told you Murtagh Cosgar and myself are on the one offer. AndMurtagh is right again when he says that you can bide your time. Butmake 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 mustbe great to hear the two of you at it. 

MARTIN DOURASGod be good to Cornelius. There's little of the world's harm in theboy. 

MURTAGH COSGARHe and my Sally would make a great match of it. She's a bright one, too. 

MARTIN DOURASMurtagh Cosgar, have you no feeling for your own flesh and blood?

MURTAGH COSGARToo much feeling, maybe. _(He stands at the door in silence. Withsudden enthusiasm)_ Ah, but that's the sight to fill one's heart. Lands ploughed and spread. And all our own; all our own. 

MARTIN DOURASAll our own, ay. But we made a hard fight for them. 

MURTAGH COSGARAy. 

MARTIN DOURASThem 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 thisland on to them, and it redeemed for ever? Ay, and their manhood sparedthe shame that our manhood knew. Standing in the rain with our hats offto 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 DOURASTen of your own children went, Murtagh Cosgar. 

MURTAGH COSGARI never think of them. When they went from my control, they wentfrom 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 COSGARThere's little fear of him leaving now. 

MARTIN DOURAS _(nervously)_Maybe, maybe. But, mind you, Murtagh Cosgar, there arethings--little things, mind you. Least, ways, what we call littlethings. And, after all, who are we to judge whether a thing--

MURTAGH COSGARIs there anything on your mind, Martin Douras?

MARTIN DOURAS_(hurriedly)_ No; oh, no. I was thinking--I was thinking, maybe you'dgive me a lift towards Arvach, if you'd be going that way this night. 

MURTAGH COSGARAy, why not?

MARTIN DOURASAnd we could talk about the land, and about Matt, too. Wouldn't itbe a heart-break if any of our children went--because of a thing wemight--

MURTAGH COSGAR_(fiercely)_ What have you to say about Matt?

MARTIN DOURAS_(stammering)_ Nothing except in a--in what you might call a generalway. There's many a young man left house and land for the sake of somewoman, Murtagh Cosgar. 

MURTAGH COSGARThere's many a fool did it. 

MARTIN DOURAS_(going to door)_ Ay, maybe; maybe. I'll be going now, Murtagh. 

MURTAGH COSGARStop! _(clutching him)_ You know about Matt. What woman is hethinking of?

MARTIN DOURAS_(frightened)_ We'll talk about it again, Murtagh. I said I'd be back. 

MURTAGH COSGARWe'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 goodname, Murtagh Cosgar; it's my own name. 

MURTAGH COSGARYour daughter! Ellen! You're--

MARTIN DOURASAy, a good name, and a good girl. 

MURTAGH COSGARAnd do you think a son of mine would marry a daughter of yours?

MARTIN DOURASWhat great difference is between us, after all?

MURTAGH COSGAR_(fiercely)_ The daughter of a man who'd be sitting over his firereading his paper, and the clouds above his potatoes, and the cowstrampling 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 builtmy house on a hill. I had many children. Coming home in the longevenings, or kneeling still when the prayers would be over, I'd havemy 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 DOURASGod help you, Murtagh Cosgar. 

MURTAGH COSGARBut 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'reboth old men, Murtagh Cosgar. 

MURTAGH COSGARYou'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 asudden ending. 

 _Matt comes in_. 

MURTAGH COSGARYou're wanted here. 

MATTI heard you call. _(He sits on table)_ So they're sticking to thetwenty years. 

MARTIN DOURAS_(eagerly)_ Twenty years, Matt, and they'll get it for twenty. O, it'sa great day for you both! Father and son, you come into a singleinheritance. What the father wins the son wields. 

MURTAGH COSGARWhat the father wins, the son wastes. 

MATTWhat's the talk of father and son?

MARTIN DOURASThey're the one flesh and blood. There's no more strife between themthan 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 COSGARAy, 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 chosenthe 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. 

MATTStop. You drove all your living children away, except Sally andmyself. You think Sally and myself are the one sort. 

MURTAGH COSGAR_(tauntingly)_ Martin's daughter, Corney's sister. That's the girlfor you!

MATTWe're not the one sort, I tell you. Martin Douras, isn't he afoolish old man that would drive all his children from him? Whatwould his twenty years' purchase be to him then?

MURTAGH COSGARIt wasn't for my children I worked. No, no; thank God; it wasn't formy children I worked. Go, if you will. I can be alone. 

MARTIN DOURASO Murtagh, Murtagh, sure you know you can't be alone. We're two oldmen, Murtagh. 

MURTAGH COSGARHe daren't go. 

MATTBecause I'm the last of them he thinks he can dare me like that. 

MURTAGH COSGARThere was more of my blood in the others. 

MATTDo you say that?

MARTIN DOURASDon't say it again. For God's sake, don't say it again, Murtagh. 

MURTAGH COSGARI do say it again. Them who dared to go had more of my blood in them!

MATTAh, you have put me to it now, and I'm glad, glad. A little house, abit 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 ownway. _(To Matt)_ You're my last son. You're too young to know thehardship there was in rearing you. 

MATT_(exultantly)_ Your last son; that won't keep me here. I'm the lastof my name, but that won't keep me here. I leave you your lands, yourtwenty years' purchase. Murtagh Cosgar, Murtagh Cosgar! isn't that agreat name, Martin Douras--a name that's well planted, a name forgenerations? Isn't he a lucky man that has a name for generations?_(He goes out)_

MURTAGH COSGARHe can't go. How could he go and he the last of the name. Close thedoor, I say. 

MARTIN DOURASHe'll go to Ellen, surely. We'll lose both of them. Murtagh Cosgar, God comfort you and me. 

MURTAGH COSGAREllen; who's Ellen? Ay, that daughter of yours. Close the door, I say. 

 _He sits down at fireplace. Martin Douras closes door and goes to him_. 

CURTAIN

ACT II

 _Interior of Martin Douras'. The entrance is at back left. There is a dresser against wall back; a table down from dresser; room doors right and left. The fireplace is below the room door right; there are stools and chairs about it. There is a little bookcase left of the dresser, and a mirror beside it. There are patriotic and religious pictures on the wall. There are cups and saucers on table, and a teapot beside fire. It is afternoon still. Ellen Douras is near the fire reading. Cornelius comes in slowly_. 

CORNELIUSI left the men down the road a bit. We ought to take great pride outof this day, Ellen. Father did more than any of them to bring itabout. 

ELLENHe suffered more than any of them. And it's little we'll get out ofthe day. 

CORNELIUSIt's a great thing to have prophesied it, even. We'll be here to seea great change. 

ELLENThere will be no change to make things better!

CORNELIUSWill you be taking that school, Ellen?

ELLENI'll wait a while. 

 _Sally coming in; she is hurried_. 

SALLY_(breathlessly)_ Oh, God save you, Cornelius. Tell me, is myfather gone? I dread going back and he there! It was all over thatbaste of a sow that has kept me slaving all through the spring tillI don't know whether greens or potatoes is the fittest for her!

CORNELIUSHe didn't go, Sally. I went down a bit of the road myself with the men. 

SALLYOh, God help me! And I'll have to be going back to boil mealfor her now. How are you, Ellen. _(She goes to Ellen)_

ELLENSit down for a while, Sally; it's a long time since I was speakingto you. 

 _Sally sits down beside Ellen_. 

CORNELIUSI'll leave this paper where they won't be looking for pipe-lights. There are things in that paper I'd like to be saying. _(He takes anewspaper out of his pocket and goes to room right)_

ELLEN_(to Sally, who has been watching Cornelius)_ Tell me, Sally, are they always that busy in your house? Is your father as harsh asthey say?

SALLYFather 'ud keep us all working. He's a powerful great man. 

ELLENMatt will be bringing a wife into the house soon from all I hear. How would your father treat her?

SALLYOh, he'd have his way, and she'd have her way, I suppose. 

ELLENAnd do you think your father will let him marry?

SALLYSure he must if the boy likes. 

ELLENWhat would he say if Matt married a girl without a fortune?

SALLYIn my mother's country there are lots of girls with fortunesthat Matt could have. 

ELLENSupposing he wanted a girl that had no fortune?

SALLYOh, I suppose father would give in in the end. It wouldn't beclay against flint when Matt and father would be to it. 

ELLENYou're a good girl, Sally. If I was Matt's wife, do you thinkyou'd be fond of me?

SALLYI'd like you as well as another, Ellen. 

 _Cornelius comes down from room_. 

CORNELIUSI suppose they'll be here soon. 

ELLENI have tea ready for them. 

SALLYWho's coming at all?

CORNELIUSSome of the boys and girls that are for America. They are goingto Gilroy's to-night, and are leaving from that in the morning. They are coming in to see Ellen on their way down. 

SALLYThere are a good many going this flight. The land nevertroubles them in America, and they can wear fine clothes, and be asfree as the larks over the bogs. It's a wonder you never thought ofgoing, Ellen. 

ELLENFather wouldn't like me to be far from him, and so I went infor the school instead. 

SALLYAnd now you've got a fine boy like Matt. It was lucky for youto be staying here. 

ELLENHush, Sally. 

SALLYOh, I knew all about it before you talked to me at all. Mattalways goes to the place where he thinks you'd be. 

ELLEN_(rising)_ I'll be in the room when the girls come, Cornelius. 

 _She goes into room left_. 

SALLY_(going to Cornelius)_ God help us, but she's the silentcreature. Isn't it a wonder she's not filled with talk of him afterseeing him to-day? But Ellen's right. We shouldn't be talking aboutmen, nor thinking about them either; and that's the way to keep themon our hands on the long run. I'll be going myself. 

 _She goes towards door_. 

CORNELIUS_(going to her)_ Don't be minding Ellen at all, Sally. 

SALLYWell, as high as she is, and as mighty as she is, she cameinto his own house to see Matt. God between us and harm, Cornelius, maybe they'll be saying I came into your house to see you. 

CORNELIUSWho'll know you came at all? And what isn't seen won't bespoken of. 

SALLYWould you like me to stay, Cornelius?

CORNELIUSAy, I would. 

SALLYDivil mind the sow, _They sit down together_. 

SALLY_(after a pause)_ Would you like me to knit you a pair of socks, Cornelius?

CORNELIUSOh, I would, Sally; I'd love to wear them. 

SALLYI'll knit them. We'll be getting rid of the sow tonight, maybe, and I'll have time after that. 

CORNELIUSAnd you come along the road when I'm herding. I don't want to be goingnear your father's house. 

SALLYO Cornelius, it won't be lucky for us when father hears aboutEllen and Matt. 

CORNELIUSThat's true. No man sees his house afire but looks to his rick. 

SALLYCome down a bit of the road with me, Cornelius. The sow will begrunting and grunting, reminding father that I'm away. Och, a minuteago I was as contented as if there was no land or pigs, or harsh wordsto trouble one. _(She goes to the door)_ The boys and girls forAmerica are coming here. 

CORNELIUSGive me your hands to hold, Sally. _(She gives him herhands)_ We are as young as any of them after all. 

 _They hold each other's hands, then stand apart_. 

SALLYIt's a fine time for them to be going when the leaves areopening on the trees. 

 _Three boys and three girls enter. They are dressed for going away_. 

SALLYGod save you, girls. Good-bye, Cornelius. I'll have to runlike a redshank. 

 _Sally goes out_. 

CORNELIUSI'll call Ellen down to you. _(He goes to the room doorand calls)_ I'm going herding myself. Herding is pleasant when youhave thoughts with you. 

 _He takes up the rod and goes out. The girls begin whispering, then chattering_. 

FIRST GIRLSure I know. Every night I'm dreaming of the sea and thegreat towns. Streets and streets of houses and every street ascrowded as the road outside the chapel when the people do be comingfrom Mass. I could watch the crowd in the street; I would think itbetter than any sight I ever knew. 

SECOND GIRLAnd the shops and the great houses. 

SECOND BOYThere's no stir here. There's no fine clothes, nor finemanners, nor fine things to be seen. 

THIRD BOYThere's no money. One could never get a shilling togetherhere. In America there's money to have and to spend and to send home. 

THIRD GIRLEvery girl gets married in America. 

 _Ellen comes down_. 

ELLENI'm glad you came. I have tea ready for you. I can't go toGilroy's to-night. 

 _Some come to the table and some remain near the door_. 

A GIRL_(at table, to Ellen)_ They say that a peat fire like thatwill seem very strange to us after America. Bridget wondered at itwhen she came back. "Do civilized people really cook at the like ofthem?" said she. 

A BOYIt's the little houses with only three rooms in them that willseem strange. I'm beginning to wonder myself at their thatch andtheir mud walls. 

ANOTHER GIRLHouses in bogs and fields. It was a heart-break tryingto keep them as we'd like to keep them. A GIRL _(at door)_ Ah, butI'll never forget Gortan and the little road to Aughnalee. 

ANOTHER GIRLI think I'll be lonesome for a long time. I'll bethinking on my brothers and sisters. I nursed and minded all thelittle ones. 

FIRST BOYA girl like you, Ellen, is foolish to be staying here. 

SECOND BOYShe'll be coming in the fall. We'll be glad to see you, Ellen. 

ELLENI have no friends in America. 

FIRST GIRLI have no friends there, either. But I'll get on. Youcould get on better than any of us, Ellen. 

SECOND GIRLShe's waiting for her school. It will be a little placeby the side of a bog. 

THIRD GIRL_(going to Ellen)_ There would be little change in that. And isn't it a life altogether different from this life that we havebeen longing for? To be doing other work, and to be meeting strangepeople. And instead of bare roads and market-towns, to be seeingstreets, and crowds, and theaters. 

ELLEN_(passionately)_ O what do you know about streets and theaters?You have only heard of them. They are finer than anything you couldsay. They are finer than anything you could think of, after a story, when you'd be A GIRL You'll be going after all, Ellen. 

ELLENI won't be going. 

FIRST GIRLWell, maybe you'll be down at Gilroy's. We must go now. 

 _The girls go to the door. Ellen goes with them_. 

ONE OF THE BOYSPhil said that an egg was all he could touch whilehe was on the sea. 

SECOND BOYGod help us, if that was all Phil could take. 

THIRD BOYLight your pipes now, and we'll go. 

 _Ellen has parted with the girls. The boys light their pipes at fire. They go to door, and shake hands with Ellen. The boys go out_. 

ELLENTheaters! What do they know of theaters? And it's their likewill be enjoying them. 

 _Sally comes back. She is more hurried than before_. 

SALLYEllen! Ellen! I have wonders to tell. Where is Cornelius, atall? He's never here when you have wonders to tell. 

ELLENWhat have you to tell?

SALLYOh, I don't know how I'll get it all out! Matt and father hadan _odious_ falling out, and it was about you. And Matt's going toAmerica; and he's to bring you with him. And Cornelius was sayingthat if father found out about yourself and Matt--

ELLENSally, Sally, take breath and tell it. 

SALLYMatt is going to America, like the others, and he's taking youwith him. 

ELLENSally, Sally, is it the truth you're telling?

SALLYIt is the truth. Honest as day, it is the truth. 

ELLENAnd I thought I'd be content with a new house. Now we can goaway together. I can see what I longed to see. I have a chance ofknowing what is in me. _(She takes Sally's hands)_ It's great newsyou've brought me. No one ever brought me such news before. Takethis little cross. You won't have a chance of getting fond of meafter all. _(She wears a cross at her throat; she breaks the string, and gives it to Sally)_

SALLYI don't know why I was so fervent to tell you. There's thestool before me that myself and Cornelius were sitting on, and hesaying--_(She goes to the door)_ Here's Matt! Now we'll hear allabout it. 

ELLENSo soon; so soon. _(She goes to the mirror. After a pause, turning to Sally)_ Go down the road a bit, when he comes in. Sally, you have a simple mind; you might be saying a prayer that it will befor the best. 

SALLY_(going to the door muttering)_ Go down the road a bit! 'Deedand I will not till I know the whole ins and outs of it. SureI'm as much concerned in it as herself! "No man sees his houseafire but watches his rick, " he was saying. Ah, there's few ofthem could think of as fine a thing as that. 

 _Matt comes in. _

MATTWell, Sally, were you home lately?

SALLYI was--leastways as far as the door. Father and oul' Martin werediscoursing. 

MATTI've given them something to discourse about. Maybe you'll betreated better from this day. Sally. 

SALLYO Matt, I'm sorry. 

 _She goes out. _

MATT_(going to Ellen)_ It happened at last, Ellen; the height of thequarrel came. 

ELLENIt was bound to come. I knew it would come, Matt. 

MATTHe was a foolish man to put shame on me after all I did for the land. 

ELLENYou had too much thought for the land. 

MATTI had in troth. The others went when there was less to be done. Theycould not stand him. Even the girls stole away. 

ELLENThere was the high spirit in the whole of you. 

MATTI showed it to him. "Stop, " said I; "no more, or I fling landsand house and everything aside. "

ELLENYou said that. 

MATTAy. "Your other children went for less, " said I; "do you thinkthere's no blood in me at all?"

ELLENWhat happened then?

MATT"I'm your last son, " I said; "keep your land and your twentyyears' purchase. I'm with the others; and it's poor your land willleave you, and you without a son to bring down your name. A bit ofland, a house, " said I; "do you think these will keep me here?"

ELLENI knew they could not keep you here, Matt. You have brokenfrom them at last; and now the world is before us. Think of all thatis before us--the sea, and the ships, the strange life, and the greatcities. 

MATTAy--there before us--if we like. 

ELLENSurely we like. 

MATTI was always shy of crowds. I'm simple, after all, Ellen, andhave no thought beyond the land. 

ELLENYou said that house and land could not keep you. You told him youwere going as your brothers went. 

MATTAnd I felt I was going. I frightened him. He'll be glad to see meback. It will be long before he treats me that way again. 

ELLEN_(suddenly)_ Matt!

MATTWhat is it, Ellen?

ELLENI don't know--I was upset--thinking of the quarrel _(putting herhands on his shoulders)_ My poor Matt. It was about me you quarrelled. 

MATTAy, he spoke against you. I couldn't put up with that. 

ELLENHe does not know your high spirit. He does not know your strength. 

MATTEllen, it's no shame for a man to have harsh words said to him whenit's about a woman like you. 

ELLENLet nothing come between us now. I saw you in the winter makingdrains and ditches, and it wet. It's a poor story, the life of a manon the land. 

MATTI had too much thought for the land. 

ELLENYou had. Have thought for me now. There is no one in fair or marketbut would notice me. I was never a favourite. I lived to myself. Idid not give my love about. You have never offered me anything. Inthe song a man offers towns to his sweetheart. You can offer me thesights of great towns, and the fine manners, and the fine life. 

MATTEllen! _(He draws a little away)_ It's not me that could offer thelike of that. I never had anything to my hand but a spade. 

ELLENYour brothers--think of them. 

MATTThey all left some one behind them. I am the last of my name. 

ELLENWhy should that keep you back?

MATTHis name is something to a man. Could you hear of your own namemelting away without unease? And you are a woman. A man feels it more. 

ELLENI do not understand men. Will you go back to your father's houseafter he shaming you out of it?

MATTHe'll be glad to see me back. He'll never cast it up to me that Iwent. 

ELLENMatt, your father said words against me. Will you go to him and takehis hand after that?

MATTIt was little he said against you. It was against your father hespoke. 

ELLEN_(sinking down on a chair, and putting hands before her face)_My God! After all my waiting, you talk like that. 

MATT_(going to her)_ Ellen, Ellen, tell me what I can do for you?There's land and houses to be had here. Father will let me have myown way after this. 

ELLEN_(rising, with anger)_ What does it matter to me whether helets you have your own way or not? Do you think I could go into afarmer's house?

MATTEllen!

ELLENIt's a bad hand I'd make of a farmer's house. I'm not the sortto be in one. I'm not like Sally. 

MATT_(getting angry)_ Don't be talking that way, Ellen Douras. 

ELLEN_(with great vehemence)_ I must be talking like this. If youtake me, you will have to go from your father's house. I always knewit. You ought to know it now, Matt Cosgar. 

MATTYou didn't know it always. And you have let some one comebetween us when you talk like that. 

ELLENI'm not one to be listening to what people say about you. Nordo I be talking in the markets about you. 

MATTI suppose not. You wouldn't have people think you gave anythought to me; I'm not good enough for you. The people you know arebetter. 

ELLENYou are foolish to be talking like that. You are foolish, I say. 

MATTI know I am foolish. Fit only to be working in drains andditches in the winter. That's what you think. 

ELLENMaybe it is. 

MATTEllen Douras! Ellen Douras! A farmer's roof will be high enoughfor you some day. 

ELLENMay I never see the day. Go back, go back. Make it up withyour father. Your father will be glad of a labourer. 

MATTMaybe you won't be glad if I go back; thinking on what you'vesaid. 

ELLENI said too much. We don't know each other at all. Go back. Youhave made your choice. 

 _She goes up to room left. _

MATTVery well, then. God above, am I to be treated everywhere likea heifer strayed into a patch of oats? Neither man nor woman willmake me put up with this any longer. _(Going to door)_ When EllenDouras wants me, she knows the place to send to. _(He stands at door. There is no sound from room. Going back he speaks loudly)_ I'll bewaiting two days or three days to hear from Ellen Douras. 

 _There is no sound. Matt goes out. The room door is thrown open, and Ellen comes down. _

ELLEN_(furiously)_ Two days or three days he'll wait for me. As ifI'd go into Murtagh Cosgar's house. As if I'd go into any farmer'shouse. As if I'd get married at all, and the world before me. Twodays or three days you'll wait. Maybe it's lonesome, weary yearsyou'll be waiting, Matt Cosgar. 

CURTAIN

ACT III

 _Interior of Murtagh Cosgar's. It is towards sunset. Murtagh Cosgar is standing before the door looking out. Martin Douras is sitting at the fire in an armchair. _

MARTIN DOURASIt's getting late, Murtagh Cosgar. 

MURTAGH COSGARAy, it's getting late. 

MARTIN DOURASIt's time for me to be going home. I should be seeingEllen. _(He rises)_

MURTAGH COSGARStay where you are. _(Turning round)_ We're two oldmen, as you say. We should keep each other's company for a bit. 

MARTIN DOURASI should be going home to see Ellen. 

MURTAGH COSGARIf she's going, you can't stay her. Let you keep here. 

MARTIN DOURASShe'll be wondering what happened to me. 

MURTAGH COSGARDivil a bit it will trouble her. You're going to thefair anyway?

MARTIN DOURASI have no heart to be going into a fair. 

MURTAGH COSGARIt's myself used to have the great heart. Driving inon my own side-car, and looking down on the crowd of them. It'stwenty years since I took a sup of drink. Oh, we'll have drinkingto-morrow that will soften the oul' skin of you. You'll be singingsongs about the Trojans to charm every baste in the fair. 

MARTIN DOURASWe're both old men, Murtagh Cosgar. 

MURTAGH COSGARAnd is there any reason in your scholarship why oul'men should be dry men? Answer me that!

MARTIN DOURASI won't answer you at all, Murtagh Cosgar. There's nouse in talking to you. 

MURTAGH COSGARPut it down on a piece of paper that oul' men shouldhave light hearts when their care is gone from them. They should belike--

MARTIN DOURASThere's nothing in the world like men with theirrearing gone from them, and they old. 

 _Sally comes to the door. She enters stealthily. _

MURTAGH COSGARHa, here's one of the clutch home. Well, did you seethat brother of yours?

SALLYI did. He'll be home soon, father. 

MURTAGH COSGARWhat's that you say? Were you talking to him? Did hesay he'd be home?

SALLYI heard him say it, father. 

MARTIN DOURASGod bless you for the news, Sally. 

MURTAGH COSGARHow could he go and he the last of them? Sure itwould be against nature. Where did you see him, Sally?

SALLYAt Martin Douras's, father. 

MURTAGH COSGARIt's that Ellen Douras that's putting him up to allthis. Don't you be said by her, Sally. 

SALLYNo, father. 

MURTAGH COSGARYou're a good girl, and if you haven't wit, you havesense. He'll be home soon, did you say?

SALLYHe was coming home. He went round the long way, I'm thinking. Ellen Douras was vexed with him, father. She isn't going either, Matt says, but I'm thinking that you might as well try to keep acorncrake in the meadow for a whole winter, as to try to keep EllenDouras in Aughnalee. 

MURTAGH COSGARMake the place tidy for him to come into. He'll haveno harsh words from me. _(He goes up to the room)_

SALLYFather's surely getting ould. 

MARTIN DOURAS_(sitting down)_ He's gone up to rest himself, Godhelp him. Sally, _a stor_, I'm that fluttered, I dread going into myown house. 

SALLYI'll get ready now, and let you have a good supper before yougo to the fair. 

MARTIN DOURASSit down near me, and let me hear everything, Sally. Was it Matt that told you, or were you talking to Ellen herself?

SALLYO, indeed, I had a talk with Ellen, but she won't give much ofher mind away. It was Matt that was telling me. "Indeed she's notgoing, " said he, "and a smart young fellow like myself thinking ofher. Ellen is too full of notions. " Here's Matt himself. Fatherwon't have a word to say to him. He's getting mild as he's gettingould, and maybe it's a fortune he'll be leaving to myself. 

 _Matt comes to the door. He enters_. 

MATTWhere is he? He's not gone to the fair so early?

SALLYHe's in the room. 

MATTWere you talking to him at all? Were you telling him you sawmyself?

SALLYI was telling him that you were coming back. 

MATTHow did he take it?

SALLYVery quiet. God help us all; I think father's losing his spirit. 

MATT_(going to Martin)_ Well, you see I've come back, Martin. 

MARTIN DOURASAy, you're a good lad. I always said you were a goodlad. 

MATTHow did father take it, Martin?

MARTIN DOURASQuietly, quietly. You saw Ellen?

MATTAy, I saw Ellen _(gloomily)_. She shouldn't talk the way shetalks, Martin. What she said keeps coming into my mind, and I'mtroubled. God knows I've trouble enough on my head. 

MARTIN DOURAS_(eagerly)_ What did she say, Matt Cosgar?

MATTIt wasn't what she said. She has that school in her mind, I know. 

MARTIN DOURASAnd is there anything to keep her here, Matt Cosgar?

MATTI don't know that she thinks much of me now. We had a few words, but there's nothing in the world I put above Ellen Douras. 

MARTIN DOURASI should be going to her. 

MATTWait a bit, and I'll be going with you. Wait a bit. Let us talkit over. She wouldn't go from you, and you old. 

MARTIN DOURASGod forgive my age, if it would keep her here. Would Ihave my Ellen drawing turf, or minding a cow, or feeding pigs?

MATTI'm fond of her, Martin. She couldn't go, and I so fond of her. What am I doing here? I should be making it up with her. What goodwill anything be if Ellen Douras goes? _(He turns to the door, thenstops)_ I came to settle with him. I mustn't be running about like afrightened child. 

 _The room door opens, and Murtagh Cosgar is seen. Sally has hung a pot over the fire, and is cleaning the dishes at the dresser_. 

MURTAGH COSGAR_(at the room door)_ Sally, it's time to be puttingon the meal. If you have any cabbage left, put it through the meal. _(To Matt)_ You put the thong in the harness?

MATTI did _(pause)_ Well, I've come back to you. 

MURTGAH COSGARYou're welcome. We were making ready for the fair. 

MATTI'll be going out again before nightfall. 

MURTAGH COSGARI'll not be wanting you here, or at the fair. 

MATT_(sullenly)_ There's no good talking to me like that. 

MURTAGH COSGARYou said, "I've come back, " and I said, "you'rewelcome. " You said, "I'm going out again, " and I said, "I'll not bewanting you. "

MATTFather, have you no feeling for me at all?

MURTAGH COSGARSure the wild raven on the tree has thought for heryoung. 

MATTAy, but do you feel for me, and I standing here, trying to talkto you?

MURTAGH COSGARYou're my son, and so I feel sorry for you; and youbeginning to know your own foolishness. _(He turns to Sally)_ I'mnot taking the pigs. Put a fresh bedding under them to-night. 

SALLYI will, father. 

MURTAGH COSGARBe up early, and let the cows along the road, orthey'll be breaking into the young meadow. 

SALLYI'll do that, too. 

MURTAGH COSGARBe sure to keep enough fresh milk for the young calf. 

SALLYI'll be sure to do it, father. 

 _She goes out. Martin takes out his paper, and begins to read it again_. 

MATT_(turning on Murtag)_ Before I go out again there's something Iwant settled. 

MURTAGH COSGARWhat is it you want?

MATTWould you have me go, or would you have me stay?

MURTAGH COSGARDon't be talking of going or staying, and you the lastof them. 

MATTBut I will be talking of it. You must treat me differently ifyou want me to stay. You must treat me differently to the way youtreat Sally. 

MURTAGH COSGARYou were always treated differently, Matt. In nohouse that ever I remember was there a boy treated as well as youare treated here. 

MATTThe houses that you remember are different from the houses thatare now. Will you have me go, or will you have me stay?

MURTAGH COSGARYou're very threatening. I'd have you stay. For thesake of the name, I'd have you stay. 

MATTLet us take hands on it, then. 

MURTAGH COSGARWait, we'll see what you want first. 

MATTYou have no feeling. I'd go out of this house, only I want togive you a chance. 

MURTAGH COSGARStop. We can have kindness in this. We needn't bebeating each other down, like men at a fair. 

MATTWe're not men at a fair. May God keep the kindness in our hearts. 

 _Martin rises_. 

MURTAGH COSGARDon't be going, Martin Douras. 

MATTDon't be going yet. I'll be with you, when you're going. 

 _Martin sits down_. 

MURTAGH COSGAR_(to Matt)_ You'll be getting married, I suppose, ifyou stay?

MATTMaybe I will. 

MURTAGH COSGAR_(bitterly)_ In the houses that are now, the youngmarry where they have a mind to. It's their own business, they say. 

MATTMaybe it is their own business. I'm going to marry Ellen Douras, if she'll have me. 

MURTAGH COSGAREllen is a good girl, and clever, I'm told. But Iwould not have you deal before you go into the fair. 

MATTI'm going to marry Ellen Douras. 

MURTAGH COSGARHer father is here, and we can settle it now. Whatfortune will you be giving Ellen, Martin? That 100 pounds that wassaved while you were in Maryborough gaol?

 _Martin shakes his head_. 

MATT_(stubbornly)_ I'm going to marry Ellen Douras, with or withouta fortune. 

MURTAGH COSGAR_(passionately)_ Boy, your father built this house. He got these lands together. He has a right to see that you and yourgenerations are in the way of keeping them together. 

MATTI'll marry Ellen Douras, with or without a fortune. 

MURTAGH COSGARMarry her, then. Marry Ellen Douras. 

MATTNow, Martin, we mustn't let an hour pass without going to her. _(He takes Martin's arm, and they go to the door)_

MURTAGH COSGARMarry Ellen Douras, I bid you. Break what I have built, scatter what I have put together. That is what all the young will bedoing, _Ellen Douras comes to the door as Matt and Martin reach it_. 

MATTEllen!

 _She shrinks back_. 

ELLENIt's my father I came to speak to. 

MURTAGH COSGAR_(going to the door, and drawing the bolt from the half-door)_When you come to my house, Ellen Douras, you are welcome within. 

 _Ellen comes in_, ELLENIt's right that I should speak to you all. Matt Cosgar, I amgoing from here. 

MATTEllen, Ellen, don't be saying that. Don't be thinking of thefew words between us. It's all over now. Father agrees to us marrying. Speak, father, and let her hear yourself say it. 

ELLENI can't go into a farmer's house. 

MATTYou said that out of passion. Don't keep your mind on it anylonger. 

ELLENIt's true, it's true. I can't go into a farmer's house. Thisplace is strange to me. 

MATTHow can you talk like that? I'm always thinking of you. 

ELLENI've stayed here long enough. I want my own way; I want toknow the world. 

MATTIf you go, how will I be living, day after day? The heart willbe gone out of me. 

MURTAGH COSGARYou'll be owning the land, Matt Cosgar. 

MATT_(passionately)_ I've worked on the land all my days. Don'ttalk to me about it now. 

 _Ellen goes to Martin. Murtagh goes up to the door, and then turns and speaks_. 

MURTAGH COSGARListen to me, Matt Cosgar; and you listen too, EllenDouras. It's a new house you want maybe. This house was built for meand my generations; but I'll build a new house for you both. It'shard for a man to part with his land before the hour of his death;and it's hard for a man to break his lands; but I'll break them, andgive a share of land to you. 

ELLENYou were never friendly to me; but you have the high spirit, and you deserve a better daughter than I would make. The land andhouse you offer would be a drag on me. _(She goes to the door)_

MATTEllen, what he offers is nothing, after all; but I care for you. Sure you won't go from me like that?

ELLENOh, can't you let me go?I care for you as much as I care for any one. But it's my freedom Iwant. 

MATTThen you're going surely?

ELLENI am. Good-bye. 

 _She goes out, Martin follows her. Matt stands dazed. Murtagh closes the door, then goes and takes Matt's arm, and brings him down_. 

MURTAGH COSGARBe a man. We offered her everything, and she went. There's no knowing what the like of her wants. The men will be insoon, and we'll drink to the new ownership. 

MATTOh, what's the good in talking about that now? If Ellen was here, we might be talking about it. 

MURTAGH COSGARTo-morrow you and me might go together. Ay, the bogbehind the meadow is well drained by this, and we might put theplough over it. There will be a fine, deep soil in it, I'm thinking. Don't look that way, Matt, my son. 

MATTWhen I meet Ellen Douras again, it's not a farmer's house I'llbe offering her, nor life in a country place. 

MURTAGH COSGARNo one could care for you as I care for you. I knowthe blood between us, and I know the thoughts I had as I saw each ofyou grow up. 

 _Matt moves to the door_. 

MURTAGH COSGARWhere are you going?

MATTTo see the boys that are going away. 

MURTAGH COSGARWait till the fall and I'll give you money to go andcome back. Farrell Kavanagh often goes to America. You could go withhim. 

MATTI'll go by myself, unless Ellen Douras comes now. The creameryowes me money for the carting, and I'll get it. 

MURTAGH COSGARThen go. Good-bye to you, Matt Cosgar. 

MATTGood-bye to you. 

 _He goes out. Murtagh stands, then moves about vaguely_

MURTAGH COSGARThe floor swept, the hearth tidied. It's a queer endto it all. Twenty years I bid them offer. Twenty years, twenty years!

 _Martin comes back_. 

MURTAGH COSGARThe men will be coming back. 

MARTIN DOURASI suppose they will. 

MURTAGH COSGARYou're a queer fellow, Martin Douras. You went togaol for some meeting. 

MARTIN DOURASAy. 

MURTAGH COSGARThem was the stirring times. I can't help but thinkof you in gaol, and by yourself. What brings you back now?

MARTIN DOURASEllen told me to go back. I should say something toMatt, I think. 

MURTAGH COSGARHe went out as you came in. 

MARTIN DOURASI'll go in when the house is quiet. I'll have a fewprayers to be saying this night. 

MURTAGH COSGARI'm going to the fair. 

MARTIN DOURASI won't be going to the fair. 

MURTAGH COSGARWhy won't you be going to the fair? Didn't you ask mefor a lift? You'll be going with me. 

MARTIN DOURASI won't be going, and don't be overbearing me now, Murtagh Cosgar. 

MURTAGH COSGARYou will be going to the fair, if it was only to beshowing that, seemly face of yours. _(Going to the door, he calls)_"Sally!" _(He turns to Martin Douras)_ I've a daughter still, MartinDouras. 

MARTIN DOURASYou have, and I have a son. 

MURTAGH COSGARWhat would you say to a match between them, MartinDouras?

MARTIN DOURASI have nothing to say again it. 

MURTAGH COSGARThen a match it will be. 

 _Sally comes in from yard_. 

SALLYIf you fed that baste on honey, she'd turn on you. Cabbage Igave her and got into trouble for it, and now she's gone andtrampled the bad potatoes till they're hardly worth the boiling. I'll put the bush in the gap when I'm going out again, father. 

MURTAGH COSGARAy. Is that Cornelius Douras that's coming up the path?

SALLYO faith it is. I'll get him to give me a hand with the trough. 

 _Cornelius comes in_. 

CORNELIUSWell, Murtagh Cosgar, a great and memorial day is ended. May you live long to enjoy the fruits of it. Twenty years on thefirst term, and the land is ours and our children's. I met the men. 

MURTAGH COSGAROurs and our children's, ay. We've been making amatch between yourself and Sally. 

CORNELIUSBetween me and Sally?

SALLYBetween Cornelius and myself?

MURTAGH COSGARAy, shake hands on it now. 

CORNELIUSAnd tell me one thing, Murtagh Cosgar. Is it true thatMatt's going to America, and that Ellen will wait for him for a yearat the school? I met them together, and they told me that. 

MURTAGH COSGARWhat they say is true, I'm sure. The land is yoursand your children's. 

SALLY_(wiping her hands in her apron)_ O Cornelius. 

CORNELIUSAren't they foolish to be going away like that, father, and we at the mouth of the good times? The men will be coming in soon, and you might say a few words. _(Martin shakes his head)_ Indeed youmight, father; they'll expect it of you. _(Martin shakes his head. Murtagh and Sally try to restrain him)_ "Men of Ballykillduff, " youmight say, "stay on the land, and you'll be saved body and soul;you'll be saved in the man and in the nation. The nation, men ofBallykillduff, do you ever think of it at all? Do you ever think ofthe Irish nation that is waiting all this time to be born?"

 _He becomes more excited; he is seen to be struggling with words_. 

END OF PLAY

THE LAND was first produced at the Abbey Theater, Dublin, in June, 1905, by The Irish National Theater Society, under the direction ofW. G. Fay, with the following cast:--

MURTAGH COSGAR W. G. FayMATT Proinsias MacSiubhlaighSALLY Sara AllgoodMARTIN DOURAS F. J. FayCORNELIUS Arthur SinclairELLEN Maire Ni Gharbhaigh. 

_THOMAS MUSKERRY_

CHARACTERS

THOMAS MUSKERRY The Master of Garrisowen WorkhouseMRS. CRILLY His DaughterCROFTON CRILLY His Son-in-lawALBERT CRILLY His GrandsonANNA CRILLY His GranddaughterJAMES SCOLLARD Thomas Muskerry's SuccessorFELIX TOURNOUR The Porter at Workhouse LodgeMYLES GORMAN A Blind PiperCHRISTY CLARKE A Boy reared in the WorkhouseSHANLEY |MICKIE CRIPES | Paupers in WorkhouseAN OLD MAN |

SCENE: _Garrisowen, a town in the Irish Midlands_. 

ACT FIRST

 _The Master's office in Garrisowen Workhouse. It is partly an office, partly a living room. To the right is a door opening on corridor, and in the back, left, a door leading to the Master's apartments. There is an iron stove down from back and towards right, and a big grandfather's clock back towards door of apartments. A basket arm chair down from stove, and a wooden chair beside it. There is a desk against wall, left, and an office stool before it. Down from this desk a table on which is a closed desk. On table are books, papers, and files. On a wooden chair beside the arm chair is a heap of newspapers and periodicals. There is a rack beside corridor door, and on rack a shawl, an old coat, a hat, and a bunch of big keys. In the corner, right, is a little cabinet, and on it a small mirror. Above door of apartments a picture of Daniel O'Connell. The grandfather's clock is ticking audibly. It is 8. 45 p. M. The gas over desk is lighted_. 

 _Christy Clarke, a youth of about seventeen, is seated in the armchair reading a periodical. His clothes are threadbare, but brushed and clean. He looks studious, and has intellectual possibilities. The clock ticks on, the boy reads, but with little attention. At the corridor door there is a knocking. Christy Clarke turns slightly. The door opens, and a tall man in the ugly dress of a pauper is seen. The man is Felix Tournour. He carries in a bucket of coal. He performs this action like one who has acquired the habit of work under an overseer. He is an ugly figure in his pauper dress. His scanty beard is coal black. He has a wide mouth and discoloured teeth. His forehead is narrow and bony. He is about forty-five. _

TOURNOUR_(in a harsh voice, after looking around)_ Is he not backyet?

CHRISTY_(without stirring)_ Is who not back yet?

TOURNOURThe master I'm talking about. I don't know where he does begoing those evenings. 

 _He shovels coal into the stove_. 

CHRISTYAnd what is it to you where he does be going?

TOURNOURDon't talk to me like that, young fellow. You're poorhouserearing, even though you are a pet. Will he be sitting up hereto-night, do you know?

CHRISTYWhat's that to you whether he will or not?

TOURNOURIf he's sitting up late he'll want more coal to his fire. 

CHRISTYWell, the abstracts will have to be finished to-night. 

TOURNOURThen he will be staying up. He goes out for a walk in theevenings now, and I don't know where he does be going. 

CHRISTYHe goes out for a walk in the country. _(Tournour makes aleer of contempt)_ Do you never go for a walk in the country, FelixTournour?

TOURNOURThey used to take me out for walks when I was a littlefellow, but they never got me out into the country since. 

CHRISTYI suppose, now that you're in the porter's lodge, you watchevery one that goes up and down the road?

TOURNOURIt gratifies me to do so--would you believe that now?

CHRISTYYou know a lot, Felix Tournour. 

TOURNOURWe're told to advance in knowledge, young fellow. How longis Tom Muskerry the Master of Garrisowen Workhouse?

CHRISTYThirty years this spring. 

TOURNOURTwenty-nine years. 

CHRISTYHe's here thirty years according to the books. 

TOURNOURTwenty-nine years. 

CHRISTYThirty years. 

TOURNOURTwenty-nine years. I was born in the workhouse, and I mindwhen the Master came in to it. Whist now, here he is, and time forhim. 

 _He falls into an officious manner. He closes up the stove and puts bucket away. Then he goes over to desk, and, with his foot on the rung of the office stool, he turns the gas on full. Christy Clarke gets out of armchair, and begins to arrange the periodicals that are on wooden chair. The corridor door opens. The man who appears is not the Master, however. He is the blind piper, Myles Gorman, who is dressed in the pauper garb. Myles Gorman is a Gael of the West of Ireland, with a face full of intellectual vigour. He is about sixty, and carries himself with energy. His face is pale and he has a fringe of a white beard. The eye-balls in his head are contracted, but it is evident he has some vestiges of sight. Before the others are aware who he is, he has advanced into the room. He stands there now turning the attentive face of the blind_. 

GORMANMister Muskerry! Are you there, Mister Muskerry?

TOURNOURWhat do you want, my oul' fellow?

GORMAN_(with a puzzled look)_ Well, now, I've a favour to ask ofyour honour. 

TOURNOURBe off out of this to your ward. 

GORMANIs that Mister Muskerry?

CHRISTYMister Muskerry isn't here. 

GORMANAnd who am I talking to?

CHRISTYYou are talking to Felix Tournour. 

GORMANFelix Tournour! Ay, ay. Good night, Felix Tournour. When willthe Master be back?

TOURNOUR_(coming to him)_ Not till you're out of this, and back inyour ward. 

GORMANWasn't there a boy speaking to me?

CHRISTYYes _(speaking as if to a deaf man)_ The Master will begoing the rounds in a while, and you can speak to him in the ward. 

GORMAN I've a favour to ask the Master, and I don't want to ask itbefore the others. _(To Christy)_ Will the Master be here soon, avick vig? [6]

TOURNOUR_(taking him by the shoulders)_ Here, now, come on, this isyour way out. 

 _He turns Gorman to the door. As he is putting him out Thomas Muskerry enters_

TOURNOURThis oul' fellow came into the office, and I was leadinghim back into his ward. 

MUSKERRYLeave the man alone. 

 _Tournour retreats to the stove and takes up the bucket; after a look behind he goes out and closes the corridor door. Christy Clarke takes the periodicals over to table and sits down. Myles Gorman has been eager and attentive. Thomas Muskerry stands with his back to the stove. He is over sixty. He is a large man, fleshy in face and figure, sanguine and benevolent in disposition. He has the looks and movements of one in authority. His hair is white and long; his silver beard is trimmed. His clothes are loosely fitting. He wears no overcoat, but has a white knitted muffler round his neck. He has on a black, broad-brimmed hat, and carries a walking-stick. _

[Footnote 6: _A mhic bhig, _ my little son. ]

MUSKERRYWell, my good man?

GORMANI'm here to ask a favour from you, Master. 

MUSKERRYYou should proffer your request when I'm in the ward. However, I'm ready to give you my attention. 

GORMANI'm a blinded man, Master, and when you're in the ward Ican't get you by yourself conveniently. I can't come up to you likethe other oul' men and speak to you private like. 

MUSKERRYWell, now, what can I do for you?

GORMAN_(eagerly)_ They tell me that to-morrow's the market-day, andI thought that you might give me a pass, and let me go out about thetown. 

MUSKERRYWe'll consider it, Gorman. 

GORMANMaster, let me out in the town on the market-day. 

MUSKERRYWe couldn't let you out to play your pipes through the town. 

GORMANI'm not thinking of the music at all, Master, but to be outin the day and to feel the throng moving about, and to be talking tothe men that do be on the roads. 

MUSKERRYWe'll consider it, Gorman. _(He takes off muffler, and putsit on back of armchair)_

GORMANWell, I'm very much obliged to your honour. Good night to you, Master. _(He passes Muskerry and goes towards the door. Muskerry hasbeen regarding him)_

MUSKERRYTell me this, Gorman, were you always on the roads?

GORMANI was driving cattle, and I was dealing in horses. Then Itook up with an oul' man, and he taught me the pipes. I'm playingthe pipes ever since, and that's thirty years ago. Well, the eyesbegan to wither up on me, and now I've only a stim of sight. I'm ablinded man from this out, Master. 

MUSKERRYAnd what will you do?

GORMANOh, sure the roads of Ireland are before me when I leave this;I'll be playing my bit of music. _(He moves to the door)_

MUSKERRYTell me; have you any family yourself?

GORMANNe'er a chick nor child belonging to me. Ne'er a woman lay byme. I went the road by myself. Will you think of what I asked you, Master?

MUSKERRYI'll consider it. 

GORMANGood night to your honour. Remember my name, Master--Gorman, Myles Gorman. 

 _Muskerry stands looking after Gorman_. 

MUSKERRYNow, Christy Clarke, I consider that the man gone out is avery exceptional man. 

CHRISTYIs it Myles Gorman?

MUSKERRYYes. I'd even say that, considering his station in life, Myles Gorman is a very superior man. 

CHRISTYThey say he's not a good musician. 

MUSKERRYAnd maybe he's not. I consider, however, that there's greatintelligence in his face. He stands before you, and you feel that hehas the life of a young colt, and then you're bound to think that, in spite of the fact that he's blind and a wanderer, the man has notwasted his life. _(Muskerry settles himself in the armchair)_

CHRISTYWill you give leave for to-morrow?

MUSKERRYNo, Christy, I will not. 

CHRISTYWhy not, Mister Muskerry?

MUSKERRYThat man would break bounds and stay away. 

CHRISTYDo you think he would?

MUSKERRYHe'd fly off, like the woodquest flying away from the tamepigeons. 

CHRISTYHe and his brother had a farm between them. His brother wasmarried, and one day the brother told Myles to go to Dublin to see acomrade of his who was sick. Myles was home in a week, and when hecame back he found that his brother had sold the place and was goneout of the country. 

MUSKERRYHis brother did wrong, but he didn't do so much wrong toMyles Gorman. 

CHRISTYHow is that, Mister Muskerry?

MUSKERRYHe sent Myles Gorman to his own life. He's a man who wenthis own way always; a man who never had any family nor any affairs;a man far different from me, Christy Clarke. I was always in themiddle of affairs. Then, too, I busied myself about other people. Itwas for the best, I think; but that's finished. On the desk underyour hand is a letter, and I want you to bring it to me. 

CHRISTY_(going through papers idly)_ "I am much obliged for yourfavour--"

MUSKERRYThat's not it. 

CHRISTY_(reading another letter)_ "I am about to add to theobligations under which I stand to you, by recommending to yournotice my grandson, Albert Crilly--"

MUSKERRYThat's the letter. It's the last of its kind. Bring it to me. _(Christy Clarke brings over the letter)_ There comes a turn in theblood and a turn in the mind, Christy. This while back I've beengoing out to the country instead of into the town, and coming backhere in the evenings I've seen the workhouse with the big wallaround it, and the big gate going into it, and I've said to myselfthat Thomas Muskerry ought to be as secure and contented here as ifhe was in his own castle. 

CHRISTYAnd so you ought, Mister Muskerry. 

MUSKERRYLook round at the office, Christy. I've made it as fit forme as the nest for the wren. I'll spend a few more years here, andthen I'll go out on pension. I won't live in the town, I've seen aplace in the country I'd like, and the people will be leaving it ina year or two. 

CHRISTYWhere is it, Mister Muskerry?

MUSKERRYI'll say no more about it now, but it's not far from this, and its near the place, where I was reared. 

CHRISTYAnd so you'll go back to your own place?

MUSKERRYAs Oliver Goldsmith my fellow county man, and I mightalmost say, my fellow parishioner, says--What's this the lines areabout the hare, Christy?

CHRISTY"And like the Hare whom Hounds and Horns pursue Pants to theplace from whence at first he flew. "

MUSKERRYAye. "And like the Hare whom Hounds and Horns pursue"--_(The clock strikes nine)_

CHRISTYYou weren't on the rounds yet?

MUSKERRY_(startled)_ Would you believe it, now, it was nearlypassing my mind to go on the rounds? _(He rises, putting the letterin his pocket)_ Where's that fellow, Albert Crilly? He was to havebeen in here to give me a hand with the abstracts. Christy Clarke, go down to Miss Coghlan's and get me two novelettes. Bring me up twonice love stories, and be here when I come back. 

 _Christy Clarke takes his cap off rack and goes out. Thomas Muskerry puts on his scarf, goes to the rack and takes down the bunch of keys. As he is going out Felix Tournour enters with a bucket of coal. He carries it over to the stove_. 

MUSKERRYNow, Tournour, sweep up this place. 

 _Thomas Muskerry goes out by corridor door. Felix Tournour takes brush from under desk, left, and begins to sweep in the direction of corridor door_. 

TOURNOURSweeping, sweeping! I'll run out of the house some day onaccount of the work I've to do for Master Thomas Muskerry. _(Heleans on his brush in front of stove)_ I know why you're going forwalks in the country, my oul' cod. There's them in town that you'vegot enough of. You don't want to go bail for Madam Daughter, nor forCount Crofton Crilly, your son-in-law, nor for the Masters andMistresses; all right, my oul' cod-fish. That I may see them layingyou out on the flags of Hell. _(He puts the brush standing upright, and speaks to it)_:

 "The Devil went out for a ramble at night, Through Garrisowen Union to see every sight. The ould men were dreaming of meat to come near them, And the Devil cocked ears at the words for to hear them. 'Twice a year we get meat, ' said the toothless oul' men, 'Oh, Lord send the meat won't be too tough again. ' To clear away dishes Mick Fogarty goes, May the Devil burn the nails off his toes. Deep dreaming that night of fast days before, Sagging the walls with the pull of his snore, In his chamber above Thomas Muskerry lay snug, When the Devil this summons roared in his lug--"

 _The door of the Master's apartments is opened and Albert Crilly enters. Albert Crilly is a young man, who might be a bank clerk or a medical student. He is something of a dude, but has a certain insight and wit_. 

ALBERT_(lighting a cigarette)_ Is the grandparent here, Tournour?

TOURNOURHe's gone on the rounds, Mister Albert. 

ALBERTWhat time was he up this morning?

TOURNOURHe was late enough. He wasn't up in time to come to Masswith us. 

ALBERTThe old man will get into trouble. 

TOURNOURIf the nuns hear about it. 

ALBERTHe'll have to give the whole thing up soon. 

TOURNOURHe's well off that can get somebody else to do the work forhim. _(He continues to sweep towards corridor)_

ALBERTTournour, you're a damned clever fellow. I heard a piece ofyours yesterday that I thought was damned good. 

TOURNOURWas it a rhyme?

ALBERTIt was something called "The Devil's Rambles. "

TOURNOUR_(taking a step towards him)_ Don't let the boss hear, andI'll tell it to you, Mr. Albert. _(He holds the brush in his handsand is about to begin the recitation when Crofton Crilly enters fromthe Master's apartments. Crofton Crilly has a presentable appearance. He is big and well made, has a fair beard and blue eyes. A pipe isalways in his mouth. He is a loiterer, a talker, a listener)_

CRILLYAre you going to finish the abstracts to-night, Albert?

ALBERTI believe I am. Go on with "The Devil's Rambles, " Tournour. 

CRILLYI heard it in Keegan's. It's damn good. 

TOURNOURI don't like saying it before Mister Crilly. 

CRILLY_(with easy contempt)_ Go on with it, man; I'll leave a pintin Keegan's for you. 

TOURNOURWell, you mightn't like it. 

CRILLYHave done talking and go on with it. 

TOURNOUR_(reciting)_--

 "In his chamber above--a--a _person_ lay snug, When the Devil this summons roared in his lug-- 'Get up, ' said the Devil, 'and swear you'll be true, And the oath of allegiance I'll tender anew. You'll have pork, veal, and lamb, mutton-chops, fowl and fish, Cabbage and carrots and leeks as you wish. No fast days to you will make visitation, For your sake the town will have dispensation. Long days you will have, without envy or strife, And when you depart you'll find the same life, And in the next world you'll have your will and your sway, With a Poorhouse to govern all your own way, And I'll promise you this; to keep up your state, You'll have Felix Tournour to watch at the gate. '"

CRILLYThat's damn good. I must get a copy of the whole of it toshow at Keegan's. 

 _Tournour has swept as far as the corridor door. He opens it and sweeps down the passage. He goes out and closes door_. 

CRILLYThat's a damn clever fellow. _(He becomes anxious, as with atroubled recollection. He goes to the little cabinet, opens it, andtakes out a bottle of whisky and a glass. He pours some whisky intothe glass, and remains looking at himself in the mirror. He smoothshis beard. He goes to the arm chair with the glass of whisky, theanxious expression still on his face)_ This is a cursed town. _(He drinks)_

ALBERTEvery town in Ireland is a cursed town. 

CRILLYBut this is an extraordinarily cursed town. Everybody's indebt to everybody else. I don't know what's to be done. Now, imaginethat fellow, James Covey, failing in business and getting clear outof the town. 

ALBERTCovey seems to have done it well. 

CRILLYGod knows how many he has stuck. 

ALBERTWell, he didn't stick the Crillys for anything. 

CRILLYAlbert, you don't know how these financial things work out. Do you think would his brother settle?

ALBERTSettle with whom?

CRILLYWell . .. With any of the . .. Any of the people that have . .. I don't know. It's a cursed town. If I had joined the police at yourage, I'd have a pension by this, and I mightn't care for any of them. 

ALBERTI wish I had a job and I'd wait on the pension. 

CRILLYOh, you'll be all right. The grandfather is seeing about yourjob. 

ALBERTIf the grandparent gets me that job I'll want two new suitsat least. 

CRILLY'Pon my soul, Albert, I don't know what's to be done. (_His mind wanders off)_ I suppose the abstracts have to go out inthe morning. 

ALBERTThey have. And damn all the old man has done to them. 

CRILLYThe Guardians hear that he's late in the mornings, Albert, and some of them are beginning to question his fitness to check thestores. 

ALBERTThe old man ought to resign. 

CRILLYI suppose he ought. I'm not wishing for his resignation myself, Albert. You know your mother regards it as a settled thing that heshould come and live with us. 

ALBERTThe mother and Anna are preparing for the event. 

CRILLYHow's that, Albert?

ALBERTMother has James Scollard in her eye for the new Master. 

CRILLYRight enough! Scollard would get it, too, and then he wouldmarry Anna. 

ALBERTThat's the arrangement, I expect. 

CRILLYIt mightn't be bad. Scollard mightn't want Nancy's moneyunder that arrangement. Still I don't like the idea of the old manliving in the house. 

ALBERTThe mother would never think of letting him take himself andhis pension anywhere else. 

CRILLYI don't think she would. 

ALBERTI wouldn't be surprised if he did go somewhere else. I hearhe often goes up to that cottage in Stradrina. 

CRILLYWhat cottage, Albert?

ALBERTBriar Cottage. I hear he sits down there, and talks of comingto live in the place. 

CRILLY_(warningly)_ Albert, don't clap hands behind the bird. Takemy word, and say nothing about it. 

ALBERTAll right. 

CRILLYWe'd have no comfort in the house if your mother's mind wasdistracted. 

 _Mrs. Crilly enters from corridor. She is a woman of forty, dressed in a tailor-made costume. She has searching eyes. There is something of hysteria about her mouth. She has been good-looking. _

CRILLYGood night, Marianne. 

MRS. CRILLY Are you finishing the abstracts, Albert?

ALBERTI'm working at them. It's a good job we didn't leave the oldman much latitude for making mistakes. 

MRS. CRILLY_(closing door)_ He'll have to resign. 

CRILLYGood God, Marianne. _(He rises)_

MRS. CRILLYWell. Let him be sent away without a pension. Of course, he can live with us the rest of his life and give us nothing forkeeping him. 

CRILLYI don't know what's in your mind at all, Marianne. _(Hecrosses over to the cabinet, opens it, and fills out another glassof whisky)_

ALBERTLet the old man do what suits himself. 

CRILLY_(coming back to stove)_ Do, Marianne. Let him do whatsuits himself. For the present. 

MRS. CRILLYFor pity's sake put down that glass and listen to what Ihave to say. 

CRILLYWhat's the matter, Marianne?

MRS. CRILLYJames Scollard came to me to-day, and he told me aboutthe things that are noticed. .. . The nuns notice them, the Guardiansnotice them. He misses Mass. He is late on his rounds. He can'tcheck the stores that are coming into the house. He may get himselfinto such trouble that he'll be dismissed with only an apology for apension, or with no pension at all. 

CRILLYI don't know what's to be done. 

MRS. CRILLYIf he could be got to resign now James Scollard wouldhave a good chance of becoming Workhouse Master. He would marry Anna, and we would still have some hand in the affairs of the House. 

CRILLYYes, yes. I think that Scollard could make a place for himself. 

ALBERTThe old man won't be anxious to retire. 

MRS. CRILLYWhy shouldn't he retire when his time is up?

ALBERTWell, here he is what's called a potentate. He won't care tocome down and live over Crilly's shop. 

MRS. CRILLYAnd where else would he live in the name of God?

ALBERTHe won't want to live with our crowd. 

MRS. CRILLYWhat crowd? The boys can be sent to school, you'll be onyour situation, and Anna will be away. _(She seats herself in thearmchair)_ I don't know what Albert means when he says that theMaster would not be content to live with us. It was always settledthat he would come to us when his service was over. 

 _Albert, who has been going over the books, has met something that surprises him. He draws Crilly to the desk. The two go over the papers, puzzled and excited. Anna Crilly enters from corridor. She is a handsome girl of about nineteen or twenty, with a rich complexion dark hair and eyes. She is well dressed, and wears a cap of dark fur. She stands at the stove, behind her mother, holding her hands over the stove. Mrs. Crilly watches the pair at the desk_. 

MRS. CRILLYWe can't think of allowing a pension of fifty pounds ayear to go out of our house. Where will we get money to send theboys to school?

ANNAMother. Grandfather is going to live away from us. 

MRS. CRILLYWhy do you repeat what Albert says?

ANNAI didn't hear Albert say anything. 

MRS. CRILLYThen, what are you talking about?

ANNAGrandfather goes to Martin's cottage nearly every evening, andstays there for hours. They'll be leaving the place in a year or two, and Grandfather was saying that he would take the cottage when heretired from the Workhouse. 

MRS. CRILLYWhen did you hear this?

ANNAThis evening. Delia Martin told me. 

MRS. CRILLYAnd that's the reason why he has kept away from us. Hegoes to strangers, and leaves us in black ignorance of his thought. 

 _Crilly and Albert are busy at desk_. 

CRILLYWell, damn it all--

ALBERTHere's the voucher. 

CRILLYGod! I don't know what's to be done. 

ALBERTIt's a matter of fifty tons. 

 _Albert turns round deliberately, leaving his father going through the papers in desperate eagerness. Albert takes a cigarette from behind his ear, takes a match-box from his waistcoat pocket, and strikes a light. He goes towards door of apartments. Mrs. Crilly rises_. 

ALBERT_(his hand on the handle of door)_ Well so-long. 

MRS. CRILLYWhere are you going?

ALBERTI'm leaving you to talk it over with the old man. 

 _Mrs. Crilly looks from Albert to Crilly_. 

CRILLYThe Master has let himself in for something serious, Marianne. 

ALBERTIt's a matter of fifty pounds. The old man has let theGuardians pay for a hundred tons of coal when only fifty weredelivered. 

MRS. CRILLYIs that so, Crofton?

CRILLYIt looks like it, Marianne. 

ALBERTThere were fifty tons of coal already in stores, but theGovernor didn't take them into account. That cute boy, James Covey, delivered fifty tons and charged for the hundred. The old man passedon the certificate, and the Guardians paid Covey. They helped him tohis passage to America. _(He opens door and goes through)_

MRS. CRILLYThey will dismiss him--dismiss him without a pension. 

ANNAMother. If he gets the pension first, could they take it backfrom him?

CRILLYNo. But they could make him pay back the fifty pounds ininstalments. 

MRS. CRILLYFifty pounds! We can't afford to lose fifty pounds. 

ANNAWho would find out about the coal, father?

CRILLYThe Guardians who take stock. 

ANNAAnd how would they know at this time whether there was ahundred or a hundred and fifty tons there at first?

CRILLYThe business men amongst them would know. However, therewon't be an inspection for some time. 

ANNASuppose grandfather had got his pension and had left theWorkhouse, who would know about the coal?

CRILLYThe new Workhouse Master. 

MRS. CRILLYThe new Workhouse Master--

CRILLYMarianne--

MRS. CRILLYWell?

CRILLYI think I'll stay here and advise the old man. 

MRS. CRILLYNo. Go away. 

CRILLY_(at door of apartments)_ After all, I'm one of the Guardians, and something might be done. 

MRS. CRILLYYou can do nothing. We can do nothing for him. Let himgo to the strangers. 

 _Crilly goes out_. 

MRS. CRILLYAnna!

ANNAYes, mother. 

MRS. CRILLYThe Martins are not giving up their house for a year or two?

ANNANo, mother. 

MRS. CRILLYIf he resigns now his pension will be safe. There isnothing else against him. 

ANNABut some one will find out the difference in the coal. 

MRS. CRILLYIt's the new Workhouse Master who will know that. 

ANNA_(hardening)_ But _he_ could not pass such a thing, mother. 

MRS. CRILLY_(abandoning a position)_ Well, after your grandfathergets his pension we could make some arrangement with the Guardians. 

ANNAYes, mother. Hasn't grandfather a hundred pounds invested inthe shop?

MRS. CRILLYIt's not a hundred pounds. Besides, it's not aninvestment. 

ANNA_(with a certain resolution in her rich voice)_ Mother. Is mymoney safe?

MRS. CRILLYWe could give you the eighty pounds, Anna, but afterthat we would need all the help we could get from you. 

ANNAYes, mother. 

MRS. CRILLY_(again taking up a position)_ But if we help JamesScollard to the place. 

ANNA_(with determination)_ Whether Mr. Scollard gets the place ordoes not get the place, I'll want my fortune, mother. 

MRS. CRILLYVery well, Anna. If we could get him to come over. . .. _(She sitsin arm chair)_ There's a lamb in Ginnell's field; you might callin to-morrow and ask them to prepare it for us. 

ANNAThen grandfather is coming to dinner on Sunday?

MRS. CRILLYWe must get him to come. 

 _Some one is coming up the passage. Anna's hand is on handle of door. She holds it open. Thomas Muskerry stands there_. 

MUSKERRY_(pleased to see her)_ Well, Nancy!

ANNAGood night, grandpapa. _(He regards her with fondness)_

MRS. CRILLYGood night, father. 

MUSKERRYThis Nancy girl is looking remarkably well. _(He turns toMrs. Crilly)_ Well, ma'am, and how are you? I've written that letterfor that rascally Albert. 

 _He leaves his stick on table and goes to desk. Mrs. Crilly watches him. Anna comes to her. Muskerry addresses an envelope with some labour. Mrs. Crilly notices a tress of Anna's hair falling down. Anna kneels down beside her. She takes off Anna's cap, settles up the hair, and puts the cap on again. Having addressed the envelope, Muskerry holds up a piece of wax to the gas. He seals the letter then holds it out_. 

MUSKERRYHere's the letter now, and maybe it's the last thing I cando for any of ye. 

MRS. CRILLYYou are very good. 

 _Muskerry goes to them_. 

MUSKERRYIn season and out of season I've put myself at your service. I can do no more for ye. 

 _She takes the letter from him. His resentment is breaking down. He sits on chair beside armchair. He speaks in a reconciling tone_. 

MUSKERRYYou're looking well, Marianne, MRS. CRILLYI'm beginning to be well again. 

MUSKERRYAnd the infant? What age is he now?

MRS. CRILLYLittle Joseph is ten months old. 

MUSKERRYI dreamt of him last night. I thought Joseph became a bishop. He ought to be reared for the Church, Marianne. Well, well, I'venothing more to do with that. _(He settles himself in the armchair)_Did Christy Clarke bring in the papers?

ANNAChristy Clarke hasn't been here at all, grandpapa. 

MUSKERRYStand here till I look at you Nancy. _(Anna comes left ofstove)_ I wouldn't be surprised if you were the best-looking girl inthe town, Nancy. 

ANNA_(without any coquettishness)_ Anna Crilly is riot going intocompetition with the others. _(She wraps the muffler round him, thenkisses him)_ Good night, grandpapa. _(She goes out by corridor door)_

MRS. CRILLYThank you for the letter for Albert. 

MUSKERRYI think, Marianne, it's the last thing I can do for you oryours. 

MRS. CRILLYWell, we can't tell a bad story of you, and things arewell with us. 

MUSKERRYI'm glad to hear that. I was thinking of going to see younext week. 

MRS. CRILLYCome to dinner on Sunday. We are having a lamb. 

MUSKERRYWhat sort is the lamb?

MRS. CRILLYOh, a very young lamb. Anna will make the dressing foryou. 

MUSKERRYI'll send round a bottle of wine. Perhaps we'll be in theway of celebrating something for Albert. 

MRS. CRILLYNancy was saying that you might like to stay a few dayswith us. 

MUSKERRYStay a few days! How could I do that, ma'am?

MRS. CRILLYYou could get somebody to look after the House. JamesScollard would do it, and you could stay out for a few days. 

MUSKERRYWell, indeed, I'll do no such thing. What put it into yourhead to ask me this?

MRS. CRILLYNancy said--

MUSKERRYLet the girl speak for herself. What's in your mind, woman?

MRS. CRILLYWell, you're not looking well. 

MUSKERRYI'm as well as ever I was. 

MRS. CRILLYOthers do not think so. 

MUSKERRYI suppose you heard I was late a few mornings. No matterfor that. I'm as well as ever I was. No more talk about it; I'mgoing on with the work. _(He rises and goes over to desk)_

MRS. CRILLYI'm sorry to say that no one else thinks as well of youas you do yourself. 

MUSKERRYWell, I'll hear no more about it, and that's enough about it. Why isn't Albert Crilly here?

MRS. CRILLYWell, he was here, and he is coming back. 

MUSKERRYI'll want him. _(He takes up a card left on the desk. Heturns round and reads)_--"You have let the Guardians pay for ahundred tons. James Covey delivered only fifty tons of coal. " Wholeft this here?

MRS. CRILLYI suppose Albert left it for you. 

MUSKERRY The impudent rascal. How dare he address himself like thatto me? _(He throws card on table)_

MRS. CRILLYPerhaps he found something out in the books. 

MUSKERRYNo matter whether he did or not, he'll have to have respectwhen he addresses me. Anyway it's a lie--a damn infernal lie. I wasin the stores the other day, and there was eighty tons of coal stillthere. Certainly twenty tons had been taken out of it. The ProvisionCheck Account will show. _(He takes up a book and turns round. Hegoes back some pages. He lets the book fall. He stands there helpless)_I suppose you all are right in your judgment of me. I'm at myfailing time. I'll have to leave this without pension or prospect. They'll send me away. 

MRS. CRILLYThey had nothing against you before this. 

MUSKERRYI was spoken of as the pattern for the officials of Ireland. 

MRS. CRILLYIf you resigned now--

MUSKERRYBefore this comes out. _(He looks for help)_ Marianne, itwould be like the blow to the struck ox if I lost my pension. 

MRS. CRILLYIf you managed to get the pension you could pay theGuardians back in a lump sum. 

MUSKERRYIf I resigned now, where would I go to?

MRS. CRILLYIt was always understood that you would stay with us. 

MUSKERRYNo, Marianne. 

MRS. CRILLYYou'll have the place to yourself. The boys will begoing to school, and Albert will be away, too. Anna and myself willlook after you. 

MUSKERRYI could stay for a while. 

MRS. CRILLYOh, well, if you have a better place to go--

MUSKERRYRemember what I said, Marianne. I've worked for you andyours, in season and out of season. There should be no more claimson me. 

MRS. CRILLYThere are no more claims on you. 

MUSKERRYI'm willing to leave in the shop what I put into the shop. Let Anna know that it will come to her from me. I'll write to theGuardians to-night and I'll send in my resignation. I venture tothink that they'll know their loss. 

 _Mrs. Crilly goes out quietly by corridor door_. 

MUSKERRY_(by himself)_ And I had made this place as fit for me asthe nest for the wren. Wasn't he glad to write that card, theimpudent rascal, with his tongue in his cheek? I'll consider it again. I won't leave this place till it fits myself to leave it. 

 _Christy Clarice enters by corridor door with papers_. 

MUSKERRYThey want me to resign from this place, Christy. 

CHRISTYYou're thirty years here! Aren't you, Mister Muskerry?

MUSKERRYThirty years, thirty years. Ay, Christy, thirty years; it'sa long time. And I'm at my failing time. Perhaps I'm not able to doany more. Day after day there would be troubles here, and I wouldn'tbe able to face them. And in the end I might lose my position. I'mgoing to write out my resignation. _(He goes to the desk and writes. Christy is at table. Muskerry turns round after writing)_

MUSKERRYNo one that comes here can have the same heart for the poorthat I had. I was earning in the year of the famine. I saw able menstruggling to get the work that would bring them a handful of Indianmeal. And I saw the little children waiting on the roads for relief. _(He turns back and goes on with letter. Suddenly a bell in theHouse begins to toll)_ What's that for, Christy?

CHRISTYMalachi O'Rourk, the Prince, as they called him, is dead. 

MUSKERRYAye, I gave orders to toll him when he died. He was anestated gentleman, and songs were made about his family. People usedto annoy him, but he's gone from them now. Bring me a little whisky, Christy. 

 _Christy goes to Cabinet. Muskerry follows him_. 

CHRISTYThere's none in the bottle, Mister Muskerry. 

MUSKERRY_(bitterly)_ No, I suppose not. And is that rascal, AlbertCrilly, coming back?

CHRISTYHe's coming, Mister Muskerry. I left the novelette on thetable. Miss Coghlan says it's a nice love story. "The Heart ofAngelina, " it is called. 

MUSKERRYI haven't the heart to read. 

 _The bell continues to toll. Christy goes to door_. 

CHRISTYGood night, Mister Muskerry. 

MUSKERRYGood night, Christy. 

 _Christy Clarke goes out through apartments. Thomas Muskerry is standing with hand on arm chair. The bell tolls_. 

CURTAIN

ACT SECOND

 _In Crilly's, a month later. The room is the parlour off the shop. A glass door, right, leads into the shop, and the fireplace is above this door. In the back, right, is a cupboard door. Back is a window looking on the street. A door, left, leads to other rooms. There is a table near shop door and a horse-hair sofa back, an armchair at fire, and two leather-covered chairs about. Conventional pictures on walls, and two certificates framed, showing that some one in the house has passed some Intermediate examinations. _

 _It is the forenoon of an April day. Mrs. Crilly is seated on sofa, going through a heap of account books. Anna Crilly is at window. Crofton Crilly enters from the shop. _

CRILLYIt's all right, Marianne. 

MRS. CRILLYWell?

CRILLYThe Guardians insisted on appointing an outside person totake stock of the workhouse stores. It's the new regulation, you know. Well, the job lay between young Dobbs and Albert, and Albert has gotit. I don't say but it was a near thing. 

MRS. CRILLYI hope Albert will know what to do. 

CRILLYHe'll want to watch the points. Where's the Master?

MRS. CRILLYHe's in his room upstairs. 

CRILLYWas he not out this morning?

MRS. CRILLYHe's not dressed yet. 

CRILLYHe was more particular when he was in the workhouse. 

ANNAI know who those two children are now. They are the newgas-manager's children. 

CRILLYHe's a Scotchman. 

ANNAAnd married for the second time. Mother, Mrs. Dunne is going tothe races. Such a sketch of a hat. 

MRS. CRILLYIt would be better for her if she stayed at home andlooked after her business. 

ANNAShe won't have much business to look after soon. That's thethird time her husband has come out of Farrell's public-house. 

CRILLYHe's drinking with the Dispensary Doctor. Companions! They'rethe curse of this town, Marianne. _(He sits down)_

ANNAShe's walked into a blind man, hat and all. He's from the Workhouse. 

CRILLYHe's the blind piper out of the workhouse, Myles Gorman. 

MRS. CRILLYThere's no one within. You should go into the shop, Anna. 

ANNAYes, mother. _(She crosses)_ James Scollard is coming in, mother. 

MRS. CRILLYVery well, Anna. Stay in the shop until Mary comes. 

 _Anna goes into the shop. Crilly moves about_. 

MRS. CRILLYYou're very uneasy. 

CRILLYYes, I am uneasy, Marianne. There's some presentment on me. Fifty pounds a year is a good pension for the old man. He's a monthout now. He ought to be getting an instalment. 

 _Anna comes in from shop_. 

ANNAMother, the doctor's daughter is in the shop. 

MRS. CRILLYWhat does she want?

ANNA_(imitating an accent)_ Send up a pound of butter, two poundsof sugar, and a pound of tea. 

MRS. CRILLYThese people are paying nobody. But we can't refuse her. I suppose we'll have to send them up. Be very distant with her, Anna. 

ANNAI've kept her waiting. Here's a letter, mother. 

MRS. CRILLY_(taking letter)_ When did it come, Anna?

ANNAIt's just handed in. 

 _Anna goes out. Mrs. Crilly opens letter_. 

MRS. CRILLYIt's from the bank. They want me to call. What does thebank manager want with me, I wonder?

CRILLYI have something to tell you, Marianne. I'll tell you in awhile. _(He takes a turn up and down)_

MRS. CRILLYWhat do you want to tell me?

CRILLYPrepare your mind, Marianne. 

MRS. CRILLYWhat is it?

CRILLYI owe you money, Marianne. 

MRS. CRILLYMoney! How do you owe me money?

CRILLYThat cute boy, James Covey, who took in all the town--

MRS. CRILLY_(rising)_ Covey! My God! You backed a bill for him?

CRILLYI'll make a clean breast of it. I did. 

MRS. CRILLY_(with fear in her eyes)_ How much is it?

CRILLY_(walking away to window)_ I'll come to that, Marianne. 

MRS. CRILLYDid any one back the bill with you?

CRILLYI obliged the fellow. No one backed the bill with me. 

MRS. CRILLYDoes any one know of it?

CRILLYNo, Marianne. 

MRS. CRILLYThe bank. .. . Tell me what happened. 

CRILLYThe bank manager sent for me when he came to the town afterCovey cleared. 

MRS. CRILLYWe had four hundred pounds in the bank. 

CRILLYWe had, Marianne. 

MRS. CRILLYTell me how much was the bill. 

CRILLYThere's no use in beating about the bush. The bill was forthree hundred pounds. 

MRS. CRILLYAnd what has the bank done?

CRILLYI'm sorry to say, Marianne, the bank has taken the money overfrom our account. 

MRS. CRILLYYou've ruined us at last, Crofton Crilly. 

CRILLYYou should never forgive me, Marianne. I'll go to America andbegin life again. _(He turns to go out by shop)_

MRS. CRILLYWe have no money left. 

CRILLYA hundred pounds, Marianne. 

MRS. CRILLYThat's Anna's money. 

CRILLYScollard should be satisfied. 

MRS. CRILLYAnna insists on getting her money. 

CRILLYVery well, Marianne. I'll leave it all to yourself. 

 _James Scollard comes in. Anna is behind him. Scollard has an account book in his hand_. 

SCOLLARDGood morning, Mrs. Crilly. Good morning, Mr. Crilly. 

MRS. CRILLYGood morning, Mr. Scollard. 

 _Crofton Crilly turns to go_. 

ANNADon't go, father. 

SCOLLARDDon't go, Mr. Crilly. I have something particular to say toyourself and Mrs. Crilly. 

MRS. CRILLYSit down, Mr. Scollard. 

 _Anna brings chair, and Scollard sits center. Anna stands behind him. Mrs. Crilly sits left of him_. 

SCOLLARDI am here to propose for the hand of your daughter, MissAnna Crilly. 

MRS. CRILLYWe have nothing to say against your proposal, Mr. Scollard. 

CRILLYWon't you take something, James?

SCOLLARDNo, thanks, Mr. Crilly. I never touch intoxicants. 

 _Crofton Crilly goes into shop_. 

MRS. CRILLYWe couldn't wish for a better match for Anna. But I feelbound to tell you, Mr. Scollard, that we have had a very severe lossin our business. 

ANNAWhat is it, mother?

MRS. CRILLYI don't mind telling you. Mr. Crilly has made himselfresponsible for a bill on the bank. 

SCOLLARDIn whose interest, Mrs. Crilly?

MRS. CRILLYHe backed a bill for James Covey. A bill for threehundred pounds. 

ANNAOh, mother!

MRS. CRILLYIt's a dead sure loss. I don't know what we are to do, Anna. 

SCOLLARDThis is very bad, Mrs. Crilly. 

 _Crofton Crilly comes back from shop. He brings in a glass of whisky. He puts whisky on chimney-piece. _

MRS. CRILLYThe bank has taken over three hundred pounds from ouraccount. 

CRILLYPerhaps Scollard--

SCOLLARDWhat were you saying, Mr. Crilly?

CRILLYOh, I was just thinking--about a bill you know--If some onewould go security for us at the bank--

ANNAFather, what are you saying?

MRS. CRILLYIt's unnecessary to talk like that. In spite of yourfoolishness, we still have a balance at the bank. 

ANNAMy portion comes to me from my grandmother. 

SCOLLARDMay I ask, Mrs. Crilly, is Miss Crilly's portion safe?

MRS. CRILLYIt is safe, Mr. Scollard. 

SCOLLARDI have been definitely appointed Master of the Union, and Imay say that Anna and myself are anxious to marry. 

MRS. CRILLYIt needn't be soon, Mr. Scollard. 

SCOLLARDAfter Easter, Mrs. Crilly. 

MRS. CRILLYBut that's very soon. 

SCOLLARDI am anxious to settle down, Mrs. Crilly. I'm on my way toa meeting of the Board of Guardians, but before I go I'd like tohave some more information about your loss. 

MRS. CRILLYAnna's portion is not touched, but we could hardlyafford to let the money go from us now. 

SCOLLARDIs that so, Mrs. Crilly?

MRS. CRILLYThree hundred pounds is a very severe loss. 

SCOLLARDVery severe, indeed. Still, you understand, Mrs. Crilly, the difficulties of taking such a step as marriage without adequateprovision. 

CRILLYDamn it all, man, Marianne and myself married withoutanything at all. 

MRS. CRILLY_(bitterly)_ Anna won't be such a fool as her mother. 

CRILLYWell, Scollard has his position, and we helped him to it. 

SCOLLARDI acknowledge that. 

ANNAIsn't my portion eighty pounds, mother?

MRS. CRILLYYes, Anna. But I'd like to tell Mr. Scollard that itwould come as a strain on us to let the money go at once. 

SCOLLARDI daresay, Mrs. Crilly. 

ANNABut, mother, wouldn't the money be safer with us?

MRS. CRILLYWell, I leave the whole thing in the hands of Mr. Scollard. 

SCOLLARDAnna and myself have been talking things over, Mrs. Crilly. 

ANNAAnd we don't want to begin life in a poor way. 

SCOLLARDWe see the advantage of being always solvent, Mrs. Crilly. 

ANNAJames has ambitions, and there's no reason why he shouldn'tventure for the post of Secretary of the County Council when oldMr. Dobbs retires. 

SCOLLARDIn a few years, Mrs. Crilly, when I had more officialexperience and some reputation. 

ANNAThen he would have seven or eight hundred a year. 

SCOLLARDAs I said, a man like myself would want to be in aperfectly solvent position. 

ANNABesides, James has no money of his own. 

SCOLLARDI never had the chance of putting money by--Family calls, Mrs. Crilly. 

ANNAAnd we don't want to begin life in a poor way. 

MRS. CRILLYYou won't want the whole of the money. I'll give youforty pounds now. 

CRILLYAnd forty when the first child is born. 

ANNAOh, father, how can you say such a thing?

SCOLLARDI need only say this. Anna and myself were talking overaffairs, and we came to the conclusion it would be best not to startwith less than eighty pounds. _(He rises)_ I have to go down to theBoard Room now, for there is a meeting of the Guardians. _(He goestowards door)_

CRILLYWon't you take a glass?

SCOLLARDNo, thanks, Mr. Crilly. I never touch stimulants. Good dayto you all. 

 _He goes out. Crofton Crilly goes after him_. 

MRS. CRILLYAnna, you won't be deprived of your money. 

ANNAThen what's the difficulty, mother?

MRS. CRILLYLet half of the money remain with us for a while. 

ANNABut, mother, if I don't get all my money, what security have Ithat what's left will be good in six months or a year?

MRS. CRILLYI'll watch the money for you, Anna. 

ANNAIt's hard to keep a hold on money in a town where business isgoing down. 

MRS. CRILLYForty pounds will be given to you and forty pounds willbe kept safe for you. 

ANNAForty pounds! There's not a small farmer comes into the shopbut his daughter has more of a dowry than forty pounds. 

MRS. CRILLYThink of all who marry without a dowry at all. 

ANNAYou wouldn't have me go to James Scollard without a dowry?

MRS. CRILLYWell, you know the way we're situated. If you insist ongetting eighty pounds we'll have to make an overdraft on the bank, and, in the way business is, I don't know how we'll ever recover it. 

ANNAThere won't be much left out of eighty pounds when we get whatsuits us in furniture. 

MRS. CRILLYI could let you have some furniture. 

ANNANo, mother. We want to start in a way that is different fromthis house. 

MRS. CRILLYYou'll want all the money together?

ANNAAll of it, mother. 

MRS. CRILLYYou'll have to get it so. But you're very hard, Anna. 

ANNAThis house would teach any one to look to themselves. 

MRS. CRILLYCome upstairs. _(Anna goes, left)_ Three hundred poundsof a loss. Eighty pounds with that. I'm terrified when I think. _(She goes after Anna)_

 _Crofton Crilly comes in from shop. He takes glass of whisky from table, and sits down in arm chair_. 

CRILLYI don't know what Marianne's to do at all. She has a shockinglot to contend with. Can anything be got from the old man, I wonder?

 _Albert Crilly comes in by door, left_. 

ALBERTWell, pa. 

CRILLYWell, Albert. What's the news in the town, Albert?

ALBERTThey say that you've backed a bill for Covey. 

CRILLYIf your mother hears that kind of talk she'll be vexed, Albert. 

ALBERTBut did you back the bill?

CRILLYFor Heaven's sake, let me alone, Albert. Yes, I backed thebill. 

ALBERTHow much?

CRILLYYou'll hear all about it from your mother. 

ALBERTThey say the bill was for three hundred. 

CRILLYIt was three or thereabouts. 

ALBERT'Pon my word, father, the mother will have to take out amandamus against you. 

CRILLY_(with parental dignity)_ Don't talk to me in that way, Sir. 

ALBERTIt's scandalous, really. I expect you've ruined the business. 

CRILLYI hate the world and all its works and pomps. 

ALBERTI believe you've done for the business. I'm going away. 

CRILLYThen you've got the other appointment?

ALBERTTemporary clerkship in the Land Department. I wonder wouldthe mother let me have the money for clothes?

CRILLY_(desperately)_ Don't mention it at all to her. 

ALBERTI have a card from a Dublin tailor in my pocket. If I couldpay him for one suit, I could get another on tick. 

CRILLYI tell you not to talk to your mother about money. That fellow, Scollard, has put her out. 

ALBERTHow's that?

CRILLYMoney again. Wants the whole of Anna's portion down. AndAnna's backing him up, too. I don't know how your mother can stand it. I don't like Scollard. Then you won't be staying on, Albert, to dothe stocktaking in the Workhouse?

ALBERTNo; they'll have to get some one else. I'm glad to be out ofthat job. 

CRILLYI'm not sorry, Albert. 

ALBERTThe mother would expect me to do something queer in my report. 

CRILLYBetween you and me, Albert, women aren't acquainted with theworking of affairs, and they expect unusual things to happen. Whowill they make stocktaker, now?

ALBERTYoung Dobbs, likely. I suppose the whole business about thecoal will come out then?

CRILLYI suppose it will; but say nothing about it now, Albert. Letthe hare sit. 

ALBERTWhat does the old man think about it now?

CRILLYHe's very close to himself. I think he has forgotten allabout it. 

ALBERTI wouldn't say so. 

CRILLYWho's that in the shop, Albert?

ALBERTFelix Tournour. 

CRILLY _(rising)_ I wonder what they think about Scollard in thePoor-house. _(He and Albert go into the shop as Muskerry enters fromleft)_

 _Muskerry is untidily dressed. His boots are unlaced. He walks across the room and speaks pettishly_. 

MUSKERRYThey haven't brought my soup yet. They won't give much oftheir time to me. I'm disappointed in Anna Crilly. Well, a certainshare in this shop was to have gone to Anna Crilly. I'll get thatshare, and I'll hoard it up myself. I'll hoard it up. And the fiftypounds of my pension, I'll hoard that up, too. 

 _Albert comes in from shop_. 

MUSKERRYThat's a black fire that's in the grate. I don't like thecoal that comes into this place. 

ALBERTCoal, eh, grandpapa. 

MUSKERRYI said coal. 

ALBERTWe haven't good stores here. 

MUSKERRYConfound you for your insolence. 

ALBERTSomebody you know is in the shop--Felix Tournour. 

MUSKERRYBid Tournour come in to me. 

ALBERT_(talking into the shop)_ You're wanted here, Tournour. Comein now or I'll entertain the boss with "The Devil's Rambles. "_(He turns to Muskerry)_ I was given the job of stocktaking. 

MUSKERRYThat's a matter for yourself. 

ALBERTI don't think I'll take the job now. 

MUSKERRYWhy won't you take it?

ALBERTI don't know what to say about the fifty tons of coal. 

MUSKERRYI was too precipitate about the coal. But don't have me atthe loss of fifty pounds through any of your smartness. 

ALBERTAll right, grandfather; I'll see you through. 

MUSKERRYConfound you for a puppy. 

 _Felix Tournour enters. He looks prosperous. He has on a loud check suit. He wears a red tie and a peaked cap_. 

ALBERTThe Master wants to speak to you, Tournour. 

TOURNOURWhat Master. 

ALBERTThe boss, Tournour, the boss. 

MUSKERRYI want you, and that's enough for you, Tournour. 

ALBERTI suppose you don't know, grandpapa, that Tournour has amiddling high position in the Poorhouse now. 

MUSKERRYWhat are you saying?

ALBERTTournour is Ward-master now. 

MUSKERRYI wasn't given any notice of that. 

ALBERTEh, Tournour--

 "The Devil went out for a ramble at night, Through Garrisowen Union to see every sight. He saw Felix Tournour--"

TOURNOUR

 "He saw one in comfort, of that you'll be sure. With his back to the fire stands Felix Tournour, "

 _He puts his back to fire_. 

ALBERTWell, so-long, gents. _(He goes out by shop door)_

MUSKERRYLet me see you, Tournour. 

TOURNOURI'm plain to be seen. 

MUSKERRYWho recommended you for Ward-master?

TOURNOURThem that had the power. 

MUSKERRYI would not have done it, Tournour. 

TOURNOURNo. And still, d'ye see, I'm up and not down. Well, I'll begoing. 

MUSKERRYCome back here, Tournour. I made it a rule that noWard-master should let drink be brought in to the paupers. 

TOURNOURIt's a pity you're not Master still!

MUSKERRYWhat are you saying?

TOURNOURIt's a pity that you're not still the Master over us. 

MUSKERRYTournour, you're forgetting yourself. 

TOURNOURWell, maybe you are still the Master. 

MUSKERRYHow dare you speak to me with such effrontery? How dare you?

TOURNOURI dunno. I'm going away now, if your _honour_ has nothingmore to say to me. _(He turns to go)_

MUSKERRYYou shall not. You shall not, I say. 

TOURNOURWhat?

MUSKERRYYou shall not go away until you've apologised to me. 

TOURNOURDon't be talking, Thomas Muskerry. You're not Master over me. 

MUSKERRYNot the Master over you?

TOURNOURNo. There's an end to your sway, Mr. Muskerry. 

MUSKERRYGo out of the house. No, stay here. You think I'm out ofthe Workhouse. No. That's not so. I've claims, great claims, on itstill. Not for nothing was I there for thirty years, the pattern forthe officials of Ireland. 

TOURNOURTwenty-nine years, I'm telling you. 

MUSKERRYThe Guardians will take account of me. 

TOURNOURAnd maybe they would, too. 

MUSKERRYWhat's that you're saying?

TOURNOURThe Guardians might take an account of Thomas Muskerry in away he mightn't like. _(He goes to door)_

MUSKERRYCome back here, Felix Tournour. 

TOURNOURI'm not your sub-servant. 

MUSKERRYStand here before me. 

TOURNOURYou and your before me! Your back to heaven and your bellyto hell. 

MUSKERRYGo away. Go away out of this. 

TOURNOURDon't try to down-face me. I know something about you. 

MUSKERRYAbout me!

TOURNOURAye, you and your fifty tons of coal. _(Muskerry goes backfrom him)_ Great claims on the Workhouse have you. The Guardianswill take account of you. Will they? Talk to them about the fiftytons of coal. Go and do that, my pattern of the officials of Ireland!

 _Tournour goes out by shop. Muskerry stands with his hands on the arm chair_. 

MUSKERRYThis minute I'll go down to the Guardians and make mycomplaint. _(He notices his appearance)_ I'm going about all daywith my boots unlaced. I'm falling into bad ways, bad, slovenly ways. And my coat needs brushing, too. _(He takes off his coat and goes towindow and brushes it)_ That's Myles Gorman going back to theWorkhouse. I couldn't walk with my head held as high as that. Inthis house I am losing my uprightness. I'll do more than lace myboots and brush my coat. I'll go down to the Guardians and I'll paythem back their fifty pounds. 

 _Anna Crilly comes in from left with a bowl of soup_. 

ANNAHere's your soup, grandpapa. 

MUSKERRYI can't take it now, Anna. _(He puts on his coat)_

ANNAAre you going out, grandpapa?

MUSKERRYI'm going before the meeting of the Board of Guardians. 

ANNAAre you, grandpapa?

MUSKERRYYes, Anna, I am. I'm going to pay them back their fiftypounds. 

ANNAAnd have you the fifty pounds?

MUSKERRYYour mother has it for me. 

ANNASit down, grandpapa, and take your soup. 

MUSKERRYNo, Anna, I won't take anything until my mind is at restabout the coal. A certain person has spoken to me in a way I'llnever submit to be spoken to again. 

 _Mrs. Crilly comes in_. 

MRS. CRILLYWhat has happened to you?

MUSKERRYFelix Tournour knows about the coal, Marianne. He candisgrace me before the world. 

ANNAAnd grandpapa wants to go before the Guardians and pay themback the fifty pounds. 

MRS. CRILLYWait until we consult Mr. Scollard. 

 _Anna goes out_. 

MUSKERRYNo, Marianne. I'm not going to be a party to this any longer. I'm going before the Guardians, and I'll pay them back their fiftypounds. 

MRS. CRILLYFifty pounds. From what place is fifty pounds to come soeasily?

MUSKERRYI'll ask you to give me the fifty pounds, Marianne. 

MRS. CRILLYI'll do no such thing. Anna is getting married, and sheclaims her fortune. 

MUSKERRYAnna getting married. This was kept from me. And who isAnna getting married to?

MRS. CRILLYTo James Scollard. 

MUSKERRYTo James Scollard. And so Anna is getting married to mysuccessor, James Scollard. My successor. How well I knew there wassome such scheme behind shifting me out of the Workhouse. And AnnaCrilly was against me all the time. Well, well, well. I'll rememberthis. 

MRS. CRILLYI'm at great losses since you came here. 

MUSKERRYI'm at greater losses, Marianne. 

MRS. CRILLYWhat losses are you at?

MUSKERRYThe loss of my trust, the loss of my dignity, myself-respect, and--

MRS. CRILLYI think we did all we could for you. 

MUSKERRYI'm going out now to pay back the Guardians the sum due tothem from me. I want fifty pounds from you. I claim it, and I have aright to claim it. 

MRS. CRILLYWe have no money at all. Listen. Crofton Crilly backed abill for James Covey, and three hundred pounds has been taken fromour account. 

MUSKERRYThree hundred pounds!

MRS. CRILLYYes. Three hundred pounds. 

MUSKERRYHe backed a bill for three hundred pounds. And do you think, Marianne Crilly, there can be any luck, in a house where such athing could happen? I tell you there is no luck nor grace in yourhouse. _(He puts on his hat and goes to cupboard to get his stick. Heopens the cupboard. He turns round)_

MUSKERRY_(greatly moved)_ My God, my God. I'm made cry at thethings that happen in this house. 

MRS. CRILLYWhat is it?

MUSKERRYThe good meat I brought in. There it is on the floor andthe cat mangling it. I'll go out of this house, and I'll never putfoot into it again. 

MRS. CRILLYAnd where will you go?

MUSKERRYI'll go before the Board of Guardians and I'll ask them toprovide for me. 

MRS. CRILLYWhat do you want me to do for you?

MUSKERRYGive me fifty pounds, so that I can pay them off now. 

MRS. CRILLYHaven't I told you the way I'm straitened for money?

MUSKERRYYou have still in the bank what would save my name. 

MRS. CRILLYDon't be unreasonable. I have to provide for my children. 

MUSKERRYYour children. Yes, you have to provide for your children. I provided for them long enough. And now you would take my place, myhonour, and my self-respect, and provide for them over again. _(He goes out)_

MRS. CRILLYI'll have to put up with this, too. 

 _Anna re-enters. _

ANNAWhere has he gone, mother?

MRS. CRILLYHe has gone down to the Workhouse. 

ANNAWhat is he going to do, mother?

MRS. CRILLYHe says he will ask the Guardians to provide for him. 

ANNAIt's not likely they'll do that for a man with a pension offifty pounds a year. 

MRS. CRILLYI don't know what will happen to us. 

ANNAHe'll come back, mother. 

MRS. CRILLYHe will. But everything will have been made public, andthe money will have to be paid. 

ANNA_(at the window)_ There he is going down the street, mother. 

MRS. CRILLYWhich way?

ANNATowards the Workhouse. And here's the doctor's daughter cominginto the shop again, mother. 

MRS. CRILLYI'll go out and see her myself. _(As she goes out shehands Anna a cheque)_ That's the last cheque I'll be able to make out. There's your eighty pounds, Anna. _(She goes into the shop)_

ANNAWe can begin to get the furniture now. 

 _She sits down at the table and makes some calculation with a pencil_. 

CURTAIN

ACT THIRD

 _The infirm ward in the Workhouse. Entrance from corridor, right. Forward, left, are three beds with bedding folded upon them. Back, left, is a door leading into Select Ward. This door is closed, and a large key is in lock. Fireplace with a grating around it, left. Back, right, is a window with little leaded panes_. 

 _It is noon on a May day, but the light inside the ward is feeble. _

 _Two paupers are seated at fire. One of them, Mickie Cripes, is a man of fifty, stooped and hollow-chested, but with quick blue eyes. The other man, Tom Shanley, is not old, but he looks broken and listless. Myles Gorman, still in pauper dress, is standing before window, an expectant look on his face_. 

 _Thomas Muskerry enters from corridor. He wears his own clothes, but he has let them get into disorder. His hair and beard are disordered, and he seems very much broken down. Nevertheless, he looks as if his mind were composed_. 

MUSKERRYIt's dark in here, Michael. 

GRIPESIt is, sir. 

MUSKERRYI find it very spiritless after coming up from the chapel. Don't pass your whole day here. Go down into the yard. _(He standsbefore the window)_ This is the first fine day, and you ought to goout along the country road. Ask the Master for leave. It's the monthof May, and you'll be glad of the sight of the grass and the smellof the bushes. Now here's a remarkable thing. I venture to thinkthat the like of this has never happened before. Here are the beesswarming at the window pane. 

GORMANYou'll hear my pipes on the road to-day. That's as sure asthe right hand is on my body. _(He goes out by corridor door)_

CRIPESMyles Gorman must have been glad to hear that buzzing. 

MUSKERRYWhy was Myles glad to hear it?

SHANLEYHe was leaving on the first fine day. 

CRIPESThe buzzing at the pane would let any one know that the airis nice for a journey. 

MUSKERRYI am leaving to-day, myself. 

CRIPESAnd where are you going, Mr. Muskerry?

MUSKERRYI'm going to a place of my own. 

 _Muskerry goes into the Select Ward_. 

CRIPESI'll tell you what brought Thomas Muskerry back to theworkhouse to be an inmate in it. Living in a bad house. Living withhis own. That's what brought him back. And that's what left me here, too. 

SHANLEY_(listlessly)_ The others have the flour, and we may hawkthe bran. 

 _An old pauper comes into the ward. His face looks bleached. He has the handle of a sweeping-brush for a staff. He moves about the ward, muttering to himself. He seats himself on chair, right_. 

THE OLD MAN_(speaking as if thinking aloud)_ I was at twelveo'clock Mass. Now one o'clock would be a late Mass. I was at Mass atone o'clock. Wouldn't that be a long time to keep a priest, and hefasting the whole time?

CRIPESI'll tell you what Thomas Muskerry did when he left the badhouse he was in. _(He puts coal on the fire)_

THE OLD MANI was at one o'clock Mass in Skibbereen. I know whereSkibbereen is well. In the County Cork. Cork is a big county. As bigas Dublin and Wicklow. That's where the people died when there wasthe hunger. 

CRIPESHe came before the meeting of the Guardians, and he told themhe owed them the whole of his year's pension. Then he got some sortof a stroke, and he broke down. And the Guardians gave him the SelectWard there for himself. 

SHANLEYThey did well for him. 

CRIPESWhy wouldn't they give him the Select Ward? It's right thathe'd get the little room, and not have to make down the pauper's bedwith the rest of us. 

SHANLEYHe was at the altar to-day, and he stayed in the chapelafter Mass. 

CRIPESHe'll be here shortly. 

THE OLD MANSkibbereen! That's where the people died when there wasthe hunger. Men and women without coffins, or even their clothes off. Just buried. Skibbereen I remember well, for I was a whole man then. And the village. For there are people living in it yet. They didn'tall die. 

SHANLEYWe'll have somebody else in the Select Ward this evening. 

CRIPESThat's what they were talking about. The nuns are sending apatient up here. 

SHANLEYI suppose the Ward-master will be in here to regulate theroom. _(He rises)_

CRIPESAye, the Ward-master. Felix Tournour, the Ward-master. You'vecome to your own place at last, Felix Tournour. 

SHANLEYFelix Tournour will be coming the master over me if he findsme here. _(Shanley goes out)_

CRIPESFelix Tournour! That's the lad that will be coming in withhis head up like the gander that's after beating down a child. 

 _Christy Clarice enters. He carries a little portmanteau_. 

CHRISTYIs Mr. Muskerry here?

CRIPESHe's in the room. _(A sound of water splashing and themovements of a heavy person are heard)_ Will you be speaking with him, young fellow?

CHRISTYI will. 

CRIPESTell him, like a good little boy, that the oul' men would beunder a favour to him if he left a bit of tobacco. You won't forgetthat?

CHRISTYI won't forget it. 

CRIPESI don't want to be in the way of Felix Tournour. We're goingdown to the yard, but we'll see Mr. Muskerry when he's going away. 

 _Cripes goes out_. 

MUSKERRY_(within)_ Is that you, Christy Clarke?

CHRISTYIt is, Mr. Muskerry. 

MUSKERRYHave you any news, Christy?

CHRISTYNo news, except that my mother is in the cottage, and isexpecting you to-day. 

MUSKERRYI'll be in the cottage to-day, Christy. I'm cleaning myself. _(A sound of splashing and moving about)_ The Guardians were good toget the little house for me. I'd as lieve be there as in a mansion. There's about half an acre of land to the place, and I'll do work onthe ground from time to time, for it's a good thing for a man to getthe smell of the clay. 

CHRISTYAnd how are you in health, Mr. Muskerry?

MUSKERRYI'm very well in health. I was anointed, you know, andafter that I mended miraculously. 

CHRISTYAnd what about the pension?

MUSKERRYI'm getting three hundred pounds. They asked me to realizethe pension. I hope I have life enough before me. _(He comes out. Hehas on trousers, coat, and starched shirt. The shirt is soiled andcrushed)_

MUSKERRYOn Saturdays I'll do my marketing. I'll come into the town, and I'll buy the bit of meat for my dinner on Sunday. But what areyou doing with this portmanteau, Christy?

CHRISTYI'm going away myself. 

MUSKERRYTo a situation, is it?

CHRISTYTo a situation in Dublin. 

MUSKERRYI wish you luck, Christy. _(He shakes hands with the boy, and sits down on a chair)_ I was dreaming on new things all lastnight. New shirts, new sheets, everything new. 

CHRISTYI want to be something. 

MUSKERRYWhat do you want to be?

CHRISTYA writer. 

MUSKERRYA writer of books, is it?

CHRISTYYes, a writer of books. 

MUSKERRYListen, now, and tell me do you hear anything. That's thesound of bees swarming at the window. That's a good augury for you, Christy. 

CHRISTYAll life's before me. 

MUSKERRYWill you give heed to what I tell you?

CHRISTYI'll give heed to it, Mr. Muskerry. 

MUSKERRYLive a good life. 

CHRISTYI give heed to you. 

MUSKERRYYour mother had great hardship in rearing you. 

CHRISTYI know that, Mr. Muskerry, but now I'm able for the world. 

MUSKERRYI wish success to all your efforts. Be very careful of yourpersonal appearance. 

CHRISTYI will, Mr. Muskerry. 

MUSKERRYGet yourself a new cravat before you leave the town. 

CHRISTYI'll get it. 

MUSKERRYI think I'd look better myself if I had a fresher shirt. 

CHRISTYI saw clean shirts of yours before the fire last night in mymother's house. 

MUSKERRYI wish I could get one before I leave this place. 

CHRISTYWill I run off and get one for you?

MUSKERRYWould you, Christy? Would it be too much trouble?

 _Muskerry rises_. 

CHRISTYI'll go now. 

MUSKERRYYou're a very willing boy, Christy, and you're sure to geton. _(He goes to a little broken mirror on the wall)_ I am white andloose of flesh, and that's not a good sign with me, Christy. I'lltell you something. If I were staying here to-night, it's thepauper's bed I'd have to sleep on. 

 _Mrs. Crilly comes to the door_. 

MRS. CRILLYWell, I see you're making ready for your departure. 

MUSKERRY_(who has become uneasy)_ I am ready for my departure. 

MRS. CRILLYAnd this young man has come for you, I suppose?

MUSKERRYThis young man is minding his own business. 

CHRISTYI'm going out now to get a shirt for the Master. 

MRS. CRILLYA starched shirt, I suppose, Christy. Go down to ourhouse, and tell Mary to give you one of the shirts that are folded up. 

MUSKERRYThe boy will go where he was bid go. 

MRS. CRILLYOh, very well. Run, Christy, and do the message for theMaster. 

 _Christy Clarke goes out_. 

MUSKERRYI don't know what brought you here to-day. 

MRS. CRILLYWell, I wanted to see you. 

MUSKERRYYou could come to see me when I was settled down. 

MRS. CRILLY Settled in the cottage the Guardians have given you?

MUSKERRYYes, ma'am. 

MRS. CRILLY_(with nervous excitement, restrained)_ No one of uswill ever go near the place. 

MUSKERRYWell, you'll please yourself. 

MRS. CRILLYYou put a slight on us all when you go there to live. 

MUSKERRYWell, I've lived with you to my own loss. 

MRS. CRILLYOur house is the best house in the town, and I'm thenearest person to you. 

MUSKERRYSay nothing more about that. 

MRS. CRILLYWell, maybe you do right not to live with us, but youought not to forsake us altogether. 

MUSKERRYAnd what do you mean by forsaking you altogether?

MRS. CRILLYWhen you leave the place and do not even turn your stepin our direction it's a sign to all who want to know that youforsake us altogether. 

MUSKERRYWhat do you want me to do?

MRS. CRILLYCome up to Cross Street with me, have dinner and spendthe night with us. People would have less to talk about if you didthat. 

MUSKERRYYou always have a scheme. 

MRS. CRILLYCome to us for this evening itself. 

MUSKERRYI wish you wouldn't trouble me, woman. Can't you see thatwhen I go out of this I want to go to my own place?

MRS. CRILLYYou can go there to-morrow. 

MUSKERRYPreparations are made for me. 

MRS. CRILLYYou don't know what preparations. 

MUSKERRYTwo pounds of the best beef-steak were ordered to be sentup to-day. 

MRS. CRILLYI wouldn't trust that woman, Mrs. Clarke, to cookpotatoes. 

MUSKERRYWell, I'll trust her, ma'am. 

MRS. CRILLY_(taking Muskerry's sleeve)_ Don't go to-day, anyway. 

MUSKERRYYou're very anxious to get me to come with you. What do youwant from me?

MRS. CRILLYWe want nothing from you. You know how insecure ourbusiness is. When it's known in the town that you forsake us, everybody will close in on us. 

MUSKERRYGod knows I did everything that a man could do for you andyours. I won't forget you. I haven't much life left to me, and Iwant to live to myself. 

MRS. CRILLYI know. Sure I lie awake at night, too tired to sleep, and long to get away from the things that are pressing in on me. Iknow that people are glad of their own way, and glad to live in theway that they like. When I heard the birds stirring I cried to beaway in some place where I won't hear the thing that's alwaysknocking at my head. The business has to be minded, and it'sslipping away from us like water. And listen, if my confinementcomes on me and I worried as I was last year, nothing can save me. I'll die, surely. 

MUSKERRY_(moved)_ What more do you want me to do?

MRS. CRILLYStay with us for a while, so that we'll have the name ofyour support. 

MUSKERRYI'll come back to you in a week. 

MRS. CRILLYThat wouldn't do at all. There's a reason for what I ask. The town must know that you are with us from the time you leave this. 

MUSKERRY_(with emotion)_ God help me with you all, and God directme what to do. 

MRS. CRILLYIt's not in you to let us down. 

 _Muskerry turns away. His head is bent. Mrs. Crilly goes to him_. 

MUSKERRYWill you never be done taking from me? I want to leave thisand go to a place of my own. 

 _Muskerry puts his hand to his eyes. When he lowers his hand again Mrs. Crilly lays hers in it. Christy Clarke comes in. Muskerry turns to him. Muskerry has been crying_. 

MUSKERRYWell, Christy, I'll be sending you back on another message. 

 _Mrs. Crilly makes a sign to Christy not to speak_. 

MUSKERRYGo to your mother and tell her---

CHRISTYI met my mother outside. 

MUSKERRYDid she get the things that were sent to her?

CHRISTYMy mother was sent away from the cottage. 

MUSKERRYWho sent your mother away from the cottage?

CHRISTYMrs. Crilly sent her away. 

MUSKERRYAnd why did you do that, ma'am?

MRS. CRILLYI sent Mary to help to prepare the place for you, andthe woman was impertinent to Mary--

MUSKERRYWell, ma'am?

MRS. CRILLYI sent the woman away. 

MUSKERRYAnd so you take it on yourself to dispose of the servantsin my house?

MRS. CRILLYI daresay you'll take the woman's part against mydaughter. 

MUSKERRYNo, ma'am, I'll take no one's side, but I'll tell you this. I want my own life, and I won't be interfered with. 

MRS. CRILLYI'm sorry for what occurred, and I'll apologise to theboy's mother if you like. 

MUSKERRYI won't be interfered with, I tell you. From this day outI'm free of my own life. And now, Christy Clarke, go down stairs andtell the Master, Mr. Scollard, that I want to see him. 

 _Christy Clarice goes out_. 

MRS. CRILLYI may as well tell you something else. None of thethings you ordered were sent up to the cottage. 

MUSKERRYDo you tell me that?

MRS. CRILLYI went round to the shop, and everything you ordered wassent to us. 

MUSKERRYAnd what is the meaning of that, ma'am?

MRS. CRILLYIf the town knew you were going from us, in a week wewould have to put up the shutters. 

MUSKERRYWell, I'll walk out of this, and when I come to the roadI'll go my own way. 

MRS. CRILLYWe can't prevent you. 

MUSKERRYNo, ma'am, you can't prevent me. 

MRS. CRILLYYou've got your discharge, I suppose?

MUSKERRYI've given three hours' notice, and I'll get my dischargenow. 

MRS. CRILLY_(at corridor door)_ We can't prevent you going if youhave the doctor's discharge. 

MUSKERRYThe doctor's discharge! He would have given it to me--

MRS. CRILLYYou can't leave without the doctor's sanction. 

MUSKERRYOut of this house I will go to-day. 

 _James Scollard enters_. 

SCOLLARDI believe you want to see me, Mr. Muskerry. 

MUSKERRYI do, Mr. Scollard. I am leaving the house. 

SCOLLARDI will be glad to take up the necessary formalities for you, Mr. Muskerry. 

MRS. CRILLYFirst of all, has the doctor marked my father off theinfirmary list?

SCOLLARDNo, Mrs. Crilly. Now that I recall the list, he has not. 

MUSKERRYI waited after Mass to-day, and I missed seeing him. 

MRS. CRILLYMy father was seriously ill only a short time ago, and Ido not believe he is in a fit state to leave the infirmary. 

SCOLLARDThat certainly has to be considered. Without the doctorexplicitly sending you down to the body of the house you are hardlyunder my jurisdiction, Mr. Muskerry. 

MUSKERRYMr. Scollard, I ask you to give me leave to go out of theWorkhouse for a day. You can do this on your own responsibility. 

MRS. CRILLYIn the present state of his mind it's not likely hewould return to-night. Then if anything happened him your situationis at stake. 

MUSKERRYI'm not a pauper. I'll go out of this to-day without leaveor license from any of you. 

SCOLLARDAs you know yourself, Mr. Muskerry, it would be as much asmy situation is worth to let you depart in that way. 

MUSKERRYWell, go I will. 

SCOLLARDI cannot permit it, Mr. Muskerry. I say it with thegreatest respect. 

MUSKERRYHow long will you keep me here?

SCOLLARDUntil the doctor visits the house. 

MUSKERRYThat will be on Monday morning. 

SCOLLARDAnd this is Saturday, Mr. Muskerry. 

MUSKERRYAnd where will you put me until Monday?

SCOLLARDOther arrangements will be made for you. 

MUSKERRYIt's the pauper's bed you would give me!

SCOLLARDThe old arrangements will continue. Can I do anythingfurther for you, Mr. Muskerry?

MUSKERRYNo, you can do nothing further for me. It's a great dealyou have done for me! It's the pauper's bed you have given me!_(He goes into the Select Ward)_

MRS. CRILLYSit down, Mr. Scollard. I want to speak to you. 

 _Mrs. Crilly seats herself at the table. Scollard sits down also. _

MRS. CRILLYThe bank manager is in the town to-day, and there arepeople waiting to tell him whether my father goes to our house orgoes away from us. 

SCOLLARD No doubt there are, Mrs. Crilly. 

MRS. CRILLYBut you have nothing to do with that, Mr. Scollard. 

SCOLLARDNo, Mrs. Crilly. 

MRS. CRILLYI have my own battle to fight, and a hard battle it is. I have to make bits of myself to mind everything and be prepared foreverything. 

SCOLLARDNo doubt, Mrs. Crilly. 

MRS. CRILLYThere are people who will blame me, but they cannot seeinto my mind. 

SCOLLARDWill you come down to the parlour, Mrs. Crilly?

MRS. CRILLYYes, I'll go down. 

 _She remains seated, looking out steadily before her. Myles Gorman comes in. He is dressed in his own clothes_. 

SCOLLARDWell, Gorman, what brings you back to the ward?

GORMANI just want to do something to my pipes, Master. 

SCOLLARDVery well, Gorman. You have your discharge, and you arefree to leave. 

GORMANOh, in a while I'll be taking the road. 

 _He seats himself at the fire and begins to fix the bag of his pipes_. 

SCOLLARDNow, Mrs. Crilly, come down to the parlour. 

MRS. CRILLYYes. 

SCOLLARDAnna is waiting to see you. 

MRS. CRILLY_(rising)_ He will be well cared for here. 

SCOLLARDHe will, Mrs. Crilly. I will give him all attention. 

MRS. CRILLYHe expected to be in a different place to-day, but delaydoes little harm. 

SCOLLARDCome down to the parlour, Mrs. Crilly, and drink a glass ofwine with us. 

 _They go out. The door of the Select Ward opens, and Thomas Muskerry appears. He has got a stroke. His breathing makes a noise in his mouth. As he moves he lags somewhat at the right knee. He carries his right hand at his breast. He moves slowly across ward. Felix Tournour enters, carrying a bunch of keys_. 

TOURNOURAnd where are you going?

MUSKERRY_(in a thickened voice)_ Ow--out. _(Motioning with left hand. He moves across ward, and goes out on door of corridor)_

TOURNOURWell, you're not getting back to your snuggery, my oul' cod. _(He goes into the Select Ward and begins to pitch Muskerry'sbelongings into the outer ward. First of all come the pillows andclothes off the bed)_ And there's your holy picture, and there'syour holy book. _(He comes out holding another book in officialbinding. He opens it and reads)_ "Marianne, born May the 20th, 1870. "_(He turns back some pages and reads)_ Thomas Muskerry wrote this, 1850--

 "In the pleasant month of May, When the lambkins sport and play, As I roved out for recreation, I spied a comely maid, Sequestered in the shade, And on her beauty I gazed in admiration. "

 "I said I greatly fear That Mercury will draw near, As once he appeared unto Venus, Or as it might have been To the Carthaginian Queen, Or the Grecian Wight called Polyphemus. "

 _Muskerry comes back to the ward. He stands looking stupidly at the heap Tournour has thrown out. Tournour throws down the book. Muskerry goes towards the open door of the ward. Felix Tournour closes the door deliberately turns the key and holds the key in his hand_. 

TOURNOURYou have no more to do with your snug little ward, Mr. Muskerry. _(He puts the key on his bunch and goes out)_

MUSKERRY_(muttering with slack lips and cheeks)_ It's--it's--thepau--pauper's bed they've given me. 

GORMAN_(turning round his face)_ Who's there?

MUSKERRYIt's--it's--Thomas Muskerry. 

GORMANIs that the Master?

MUSKERRYIt's--it's the pauper's bed they've given me. 

GORMANCan I give you any hand, Master?

MUSKERRYI'll want to make--the bed. Give me a hand to make the bed. _(Gorman comes over to him)_ My own sheet and blanket is here. Ineedn't lie on a pauper's sheet. Whose bed is this?

GORMANIt's the middle bed, Master. It's my own bed. 

MUSKERRY_(helplessly)_ What bed will I take, then?

GORMANMy bed. I won't be here. 

MUSKERRYAnd where are you going?

GORMANI'm leaving the house this day. I'll be going on the roads. 

MUSKERRYMyles--Myles Gorman. The man that was without family orfriends. Myles Gorman. Help me to lay down the mattress. Where willyou sleep to-night, Myles Gorman?

GORMANAt Mrs. Muirnan's, a house between this and the town ofBallinagh. I haven't the money to pay, but she'll give me the placefor to-night. Now, Master, I'll spread the sheet for you. _(Theyspread the sheet on the bed_. )

MUSKERRYCan you go down the stairs, Myles Gorman? I tried to getdown the stairs and my legs failed me. 

GORMANOne of the men will lead me down. 

MUSKERRY_(resting his hand on the bed and standing up)_ Sure one ofthe men will lead me down the stairs, too. 

 _Myles Gorman spreads blanket on bed. He stands up, takes pipes, and is ready to go out. Muskerry becomes more feeble. He puts himself on the bed_. 

MUSKERRYMyles--Myles Gorman--come back. 

GORMANWhat will I do for you, Master?

MUSKERRYSay a prayer for me. 

GORMANWhat prayer will I say, Master?

MUSKERRYSay "God be good to Thomas Muskerry. "

GORMAN_(taking off his hat)_ "God be good to Thomas Muskerry, theman who was good to the poor. " Is that all, Master?

MUSKERRYThat's--that's all. 

 _Gorman goes to the door_. 

GORMANIn a little while you'll hear my pipes on the road. 

 _He goes out. There is the sound of heavy breathing from the bed. Then silence. The old pauper with the staff enters. He is crossing the ward when his attention is taken by the humming of the bees at the window pane. He listens for a moment_. 

THE OLD PAUPERA bright day, and the clay on their faces. That'swhat I saw. And we used to be coming from Mass and going to thecoursing match. The hare flying and the dogs stretching after her upthe hill. Fine dogs and fine men. I saw them all. 

 _Christy Clarke comes in. He goes to table for his bag. He sees the figure on the bed, and goes over_. 

CHRISTYI'm going now, Mister Muskerry. Mister Muskerry!Mister Muskerry! Oh! the Master is dead. _(He runs back to the door)_Mrs. Crilly. Mrs. Crilly. _(He goes back to the bed, and throwshimself on his knees)_ Oh! I'm sorry you're gone, Thomas Muskerry. 

THE OLD PAUPERAnd is he gone home, too! And the bees humming and all!He was the best of them. Each of his brothers could lift up theirplough and carry it to the other side of the field. Four of themcould clear a fair. But their fields were small and poor, and so theyscattered. 

 _Mrs. Crilly comes in_. 

MRS. CRILLYChristy Clarke, what is it?

CHRISTYThe Master is dead. 

MRS. CRILLYMy God, my God!

CHRISTYWill I go and tell them below?

MRS. CRILLYNo. Bring no one here yet. We killed him. Wheneverything is known that will be known. 

CHRISTYI'll never forget him, I think. 

MRS. CRILLYWhat humming is that?

CHRISTYThe bees at the window pane. And there's Myles Gorman'spipes on the road. 

 _The drear call of the pipes is heard_. 

END OF PLAY

"Thomas Muskerry" was first produced on May 5th, 1910, by the AbbeyTheater Company, at the Abbey Theater, Dublin, with the followingcast:--

THOMAS MUSKERRY Arthur SinclairMRS. CRILLY Cara AllgoodCROFTON CRILLY J. M. KerriganALBERT CRILLY Eric GormanANNA CRILLY Maire O'NeillMYLES GORMAN Fred O'DonovanFELIX TOURNOUR Sydney MorganJAMES SCOLLARD J. A. O'RourkeCHRISTY CLARKE U. WrightMICKIE GRIPES Fred RowlandTOM SHANLEY Ambrose PowerAN OLD PAUPER J. M. Kerrigan.