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THE FIDDLER S HOUSE: THE 
 land: THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
THREE PLAYS 
 
 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 THE LAND 
 
 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 BY 
 
 PADRAIC COLUM 
 
 N ON-REFER T 
 
 "^1 1 r^^2K?,fvryM i IQ 
 
 £qWVAD-QHS 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
 
 1916 
 

 Copynght, 1916, 
 By Padraic Colum. 
 
 All rights reserved 
 Published, October, 1916 
 
 For permission to perform these plays, apply to 
 The Paget Dramatic Agency, 25 West 4Jth Street, New York City 
 
 t . -?<sr 
 
 OCT 27 1916 
 
 SET UP AND ELECTROTYPED BY THE PLIjrPTON PRESS, NORWOOD, MASS., U.S.A. 
 PRINTED BY S. J. PARKHILL & CO., BOSTON, MASS., U.S.A. 
 
 •CI,A44C100 
 
TO MY FRIEND 
 THOMAS HUGHES KELLY 
 THESE THREE IRISH PLAYS 
 
AUTHOR'S NOTE 
 
 I HAVE been asked to say something about the in- 
 tentions and ideas that underHe the three short 
 plays in this volume. 
 
 These plays were conceived in the early days of the 
 Irish National Theatre. I had been one of the group that 
 formed the National Theatre Society and I wrote plays 
 for players who were my colleagues and my instruct- 
 ors ; I wrote them for a small, barely-furnished stage in 
 a small theatre ; I wrote them, too, for an audience that 
 was tremendously interested in every expression of 
 national character. " The Land " was written to celebrate 
 the redemption of the soil of Ireland — an event made 
 possible by the Land Act of 1903. This event, as it 
 represented the passing of Irish acres from an alien land- 
 lordism, was considered to be of national importance. 
 "The Land" also dealt with a movement that ran coun- 
 ter to the rooting of the Celtic people in the soil — emi- 
 gration — the emigration to America of the young and 
 the fit. In " The Land " I tried to show that it was 
 not altogether an economic necessity that was driving 
 young men and women out of the Irish rural districts; 
 the lack of life and the lack of freedom there had much 
 to do with emigration. 
 
 "The Land" touched upon a typical conflict, the con- 
 flict between the individual and that which, in Ireland, 
 has much authority, the family group. This particular 
 conflict was shown again in "The Fiddler's House," 
 
viii AUTHOR'S NOTE 
 
 where the life, not of the actual peasants, but of rural 
 people with artistic and aristocratic traditions, was 
 shown. 
 
 I tried to show the same conflict working out more 
 tragically in the play of middle-class life, "Thomas Mus- 
 kerry." Here I went above the peasant and the wan- 
 dering artist and came to the official. I had intended 
 to make plays about the merchant, the landowner, the 
 political and the intellectual leader and so write a chap- 
 ter in an Irish Human Comedy. But while I was think- 
 ing of the play that is third in this volume my connection 
 with the National Theatre Society was broken off. 
 "Thomas Muskerry" was produced in the Abbey 
 Theatre after I had ceaSed to be a member of the group 
 that had founded it. 
 
 Padraic Colum 
 
 New York 
 
 August, 1916 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Author's Note vii 
 
 The Fiddler's House 1 
 
 The Land: An Agrarian Comedy in Three Acts 79 
 Thomas Muskerry 139 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
CHARACTERS 
 
 Conn Hourican, a Fiddler. 
 Maire (Mary)^ 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. 
 
 ^ 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 delph. 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 com- 
 fortable. It is towards the close of an Autumn day. 
 
 James Moynihan has finished tea; Anne Hourican 
 is at the back, seated on the settle knitting, and watching 
 James. James Moynihan is about twenty-eight. He has 
 a good forehead, but his face is indeterminate. He has 
 been working in the fields, and is dressed in trousers, 
 shirt, and heavy boots. Anne Hourican is a pretty, dark- 
 haired girl of about nineteen. 
 
 James Moynihan rises. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 And so you can't stay any longer, James? 
 JAMES (with a certain solemnity) 
 
 No, Anne. I told my father I'd be back while there 
 was light, and I'm going back. (He goes to the rack, 
 takes his coat, and puts it on him) Come over to our 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 house to-night, Anne. I'll be watching the girls 
 coming in, and thinking on yourself; there's none of 
 them your match for grace and favour. My father 
 wanted me to see a girl in Arvach. She has three 
 hundred pounds, besides what the priest, her uncle, 
 will leave her. "Father," says I, "listen to me now. 
 Haven't I always worked for you like a steady, useful 
 boy?" "You have," says he. "Did I ever ask you 
 for anything unreasonable.''" says I. "No," says 
 he. "Well then," says I, "don't ask me to do un- 
 reasonable things. I'm fond of Anne Hourican, and 
 not another girl will I marry. What's money, after 
 all?" says I, "there's gold on the whin-bushes if you 
 only knew it." And he had to leave it at that. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 You always bring people around. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 The quiet, reasonable way is the way that people 
 like. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Still, with all, I'm shy of going into your house. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 Don't doubt but there'll be a welcome before you; 
 come round with Maire. 
 
 \^Anne rises, and comes to him. She has graceful, 
 bird-like movements. 
 ANNE {'putting her hands on James* shoidders) 
 
 Maybe we won't have a chance of seeing each other 
 
 after all. 
 
 \^James Moynihan kisses her reverently. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 Sit down now, Anne, because there's something I want 
 to show you. Do you ever see "The Shamrock"? 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Very seldom. 
 
 £James and Anne go to the settle; they sit down. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 There be good pieces in it sometimes. There's a 
 poem of mine in it this week. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Of yours, James? Printed, do you mean? 
 
 JAMES 
 
 Ay, printed. (He takes a paper out of his pocJcet, 
 and opens it) It's a poem to yourself, though your 
 name doesn't come into it. (Gives paper) Let no 
 one see it, Anne, at least not for the present. And 
 now, good-bye. 
 
 £Goes to the door. Anne continues reading the verse 
 eagerly. At the door James turns and recites: — 
 When lights are failing, and skies are paling, 
 
 And leaves are sailing a-down the air, 
 O, it's then that love lifts my heart above 
 My roving thoughts and my petty care; 
 And though the gloom be like the tomb. 
 
 Where there's no room for my love and me, 
 O, still I'll find you, and still I'll bind you. 
 My wild sweet rose of Aughnalee! 
 That's the first stanza. Good-bye. 
 {James goes out. Anne continues reading, then she 
 leaves the paper down with a sigh. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 O, it's lovely! (She takes the paper up again, rises 
 and goes to the door. She remains looking out. Some 
 one speaks to her) No, Brian, Maire's not back yet. 
 Ay, I'll engage she'll give you a call when she does 
 come back. (Anne turns back. She opens drawer in 
 
8 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 the dresser and puts paper in. She begins to clear 
 table, putting the delph back on dresser. To herself, 
 anxiously) I hope Maire won't forget to call at the 
 mill. (Room door right opens, and Conn Hourican 
 comes down. Conn Hourican is a man of about fifty, 
 with clear-cut, powerful features, his face is clean-shaven, 
 his expression vehement. His dress is old-fashioned. 
 He wears knee-breeches, a frieze coat rather long, a 
 linen shirt with a little linen collar and a black string 
 for bow. He carries a stick and moves about restlessly) 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Had Maire any talk of going to the mill, father? 
 
 CONN 
 
 I heard nothing of it. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 I hope she'll mind of it. We must get the meal there, 
 and not be going to the shop so often. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I suppose we must. 
 
 [|//e moves about restlessly. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 And I was just thinking that one of us ought to go 
 to Arvach on Tuesday, and get the things there. 
 
 CONN 
 
 The mean, odious creatures! 
 
 \_Anne is startled. She turns from dresser. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 What are you thinking of, father.? 
 
 CONN 
 
 That den of robbers. Well, well, I'm finished with 
 them now; but I'm a proud man, and a passionate 
 man, and I'll be even with them yet. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 9 
 
 ANNE 
 
 There's no comfort in going into rough places. 
 
 CONN 
 
 You know nothing at all about it. Were the men in 
 
 yet? 
 
 ANNE 
 
 James Moynihan was here, because he had to go 
 away early; but Brian MacConnell is outside still. 
 Father, you were home late two nights this week. 
 
 CONN 
 
 And is a man to have no life to himself? But sure 
 you know nothing at all about it. I'm going out 
 now to give Brian MacConnell a hand. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 It's hardly worth while going out now. 
 
 CONN 
 
 There's still light enough to do a bit of mowing, and 
 you ought to know that it isn't right to neglect the 
 boy that's come to do a day's work with you. (Going 
 to the door) Many's the day I put in with the scythe 
 in Ireland, and in England too; I did more than 
 stroll with the fiddle, and I saw more places than 
 where fiddling brought me, (Brian MacConnell comes 
 to the door) I was just going out to you, Brian, I 
 was telling the girl here that it's not right to neglect 
 the boy that's giving you a day's work out of his 
 own goodness. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 I'm only coming in for a light. 
 
 CONN 
 
 As you're here now, rest yourself. 
 
 l^Brian MacConnell comes in, and goes over to the 
 
 hearth. He is dark and good-looking, and has some- 
 
10 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 thing reckless in his look. He wears corduroy trousers, 
 and a shirt loose at the neck. Anne comes to Brian. 
 Conn stands at entrance, his back turned. 
 BRIAN {lighting his 'pipe with a coal) 
 When do you expect Maire back? 
 
 ANNE 
 
 She'll be here soon. She'll give you a call if you're 
 outside. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 How is it you couldn't keep James Moynihan? 
 
 ANNE 
 
 It's because you didn't say the good word for me, I 
 must think. Be sure you praise me the next time 
 you're working together. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Will you do as much for me? 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Indeed, I will, Brian. Myself and another are mak- 
 ing a devotion to Saint Anthony. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 And what would that be for? 
 
 ANNE 
 
 That the Saint might send us good comrades. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 I thought it was Saint Joseph did that for the girls. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Sure we couldn't be asking the like from him. We 
 couldn't talk to Saint Joseph that way. We want a 
 nice young saint to be looking at. 
 f^Conn turns from the door. 
 
 CONN (bitterly) 
 
 It'll be a poor season, Brian MacConnell. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 11 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 The season's not so bad, after all. 
 
 CONN 
 
 God help them that are depending on the land and 
 the weather for the bit they put into their heads. 
 It's no wonder that the people here are the sort they 
 are, harassed, anxious people. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 The people here mind their own business, and they're 
 a friendly people besides. 
 
 CONN 
 
 People that would leave the best fiddler at the fair 
 
 to go and look at a bullock. 
 ANNE {to Brian) 
 
 He's not satisfied to have this shelter, Brian. 
 CONN (to Brian) 
 
 I'm saying, Brian, that her mother had this shelter, 
 
 and she left it to go the roads with myself. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 That God may rest my mother. It's a pity she never 
 lived to come back to the place. But we ought to 
 be praising grandmother night and day, for leaving 
 this place to Maire. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Your grandmother did that as she did everything 
 else. 
 
 ANNE {to Brian) 
 
 Now, Brian, what would you do with a man that 
 would say the like.'' 
 ^Anne goes outside. 
 
 CONN {to Brian) 
 
 It's small blame to the girl here for thinking some- 
 thing of the place; but I saw the time, Brian Mac- 
 
12 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 Connell, when I could make more playing at one 
 fair than working a whole season in this bit of a 
 place. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Girls like the shelter, Conn. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Ay, but the road for the fiddler. I'm five years 
 settled here, and I come to be as well known as the 
 begging ass, and there is as much thought about me. 
 Fiddling, let me tell you, isn't like a boy's whistling. 
 It can't be kept up on nothing. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 I understand that, Conn. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I'm getting that I can't stand the talk you hear in 
 houses, wars and Parliaments, and the devil knows 
 what ramais. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 There's still a welcome for the man of art, somewhere. 
 
 CONN 
 
 That somewhere's getting further and further away, 
 Brian. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 You were not m the town last night? 
 
 CONN 
 
 I was not, Brian. God help me, I spent the night 
 my lone. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 There's Sligomen in the town. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Is there, now? It would be like oul' times to play 
 for them. (Anne comes in with some peat) Anne, 
 would you bring me down my spectacles? They're 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 13 
 
 in the room, daughter. {Anne goes to room. Conn 
 turns to Brian eagerly) I suppose the Sligomen will 
 be in Flynn's. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 They were there last night. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Listen, Brian, I've a reason for not going to Flynn's. 
 Would you believe it, Brian, Flynn spoke to me 
 about the few shillings I owe him? 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 That was shabby of him. He got a lot out of you 
 in the way of playing. 
 
 CONN 
 
 It's just like them. Besides, Maire keeps us tight 
 enough, and I often have to take treats from the 
 men. They're drovers and rambling labourers and 
 the like, though, as you say, they've the song and 
 music, and the proper talk. Listen, Brian, could 
 you leave a few shillings on the dresser for me? 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 To be sure I will, Conn. 
 
 [^Brian goes to the dresser, and puts money on a shelf. 
 CONN (with dignity) 
 
 Thank you, Brian. There's few I'd let put me under 
 a compliment; but I take it from you. Maire, as I 
 said, is a careful girl, but some of us must have our 
 freedom. Besides, Brian, the bird that sings lone 
 sings slow. The man of art must have his listeners. 
 (Conn takes the money off dresser) Anne, daughter, 
 what's keeping you there? Sure the spectacles were 
 in my pocket the whole time, child. (Anne comes 
 down) When I spoke against the people about here, 
 I was leaving you out of it, Brian. 
 
14 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 I'm fond of tune, though it wasn't here I got fond of 
 
 it. 
 
 [^Brian goes to the door. 
 
 ANNE (going to Brian) 
 
 You won't be rambling again, Brian? 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 I'm settled here, Anne; I made it up with my brothers. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 They used to say that a MacConnell quarrel was a 
 lasting quarrel. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Maybe we're working the bad blood out of us. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Don't be staying out long, Brian. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Till Maire gives me the call. 
 [^Brian MacConnell goes out. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 We oughtn't to take another day from Brian Mac- 
 Connell. There's only the patch at the back to be 
 mown, and you could do that yourself. 
 
 CONN 
 
 You can depend on me for the mowing. I'm going 
 up now, to go over an oul' tune I have. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 James Moynihan would come over and stack for us. 
 
 CONN 
 
 James Moynihan is a decent boy, too. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 You won't be going out to-night, father? 
 
 CONN 
 
 Now, how's a man to know what he'll be doing? 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 15 
 
 ANNE 
 
 It leaves me very anxious. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I'll give you this advice, and it's proper advice to 
 give to a girl thinking of marrying. Never ask of 
 your menkind where they're going. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 The like of that brings bad luck on a house. 
 
 CONN 
 
 You have too much dead knowledge, and the shut 
 fist never caught a bird. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 I only wish you were settled down. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Sure I am settled down. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 I can't speak to you, after all. 
 
 CONN 
 
 You're a good girl, Anne, and he'll be lucky that gets 
 you. And don't be grieving that you're not bringing 
 James Moynihan a fortune. You're bringing him 
 the decency of birth and rearing. You're like the 
 lone pigeon I often think — the pet that doesn't 
 fly, and keeps near the house. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 That's the way you always treat me, and I never 
 can talk to you. 
 CONN {at window) 
 
 Hush now, here's the other, your sister Maire. She's 
 like the wild pigeon of the woods. {Maire Hourican 
 comes in) We were discoursing on affairs, Maire. 
 We won't be bringing Brian MacConnell here to- 
 
16 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 morrow; 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 
 fiowers from top. She turns to dresser and arranges 
 some of the fiowers in a jar. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 We'd have no right to take another day from Brian. 
 And when there's no one here to-morrow, you and 
 me could draw some of the turf. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Your hair is loose, Maire. 
 
 l^Maire goes to the mirror and fixes her hair. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 The wind blew it about me, and then I let it down. I 
 came home by the long way, just to feel young again 
 with my hair about me. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 And did you meet any one? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Indeed I did. I met James Moynihan. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 James had to go early. They're building at his place. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Indeed they ought to let James build a house for 
 himself. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 17 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Some day they will, Maire. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 But we must not let some day be a far day. 
 
 ANNE {hesitatingly) 
 
 I think I'll show you something. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 What is it, daughter.'' 
 
 \^Anne rises and goes to the dresser. She opens drawer. 
 Maire watches her. 
 MAIRE (waiting) 
 
 I made a good girl out of you, anyway. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 You wouldn't let me use stroller words when we were 
 on the road. Do you mind of that? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I kept you to the mannerly ways. I have that to 
 my credit. 
 ANNE (showing Maire the verses) 
 
 Read that, Maire. It was James that made it. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 It's a song, I declare. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 No, Maire, it's a poem. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 A poem? O, that's grand! 
 \_She begins to read it eagerly. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 And, Maire — 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Well? 
 
 ANNE 
 
 James says it's about me. 
 
18 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 About you? O, I wish some one would put me into a 
 song, or into a poem; I suppose a poem would be 
 best. You might ask James. No, I'll coax him my- 
 self. Ah, no I won't, Anne. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 You may keep it for a while, but don't let any one 
 know. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 He must be very fond of you, and I thinking him so 
 quiet. 
 
 ANNE (happy) 
 
 He has grand thoughts about me. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Well, you'll be seeing him to-night. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 I don't know that I'll go out to-night. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Sure Grace Moynihan asked us to go over. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 I'm shy of going into James'. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Anne, you're the only one of us that has any man- 
 ners. Maybe you're right not to go. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 I'll stay in to-night. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Then Brian and myself will go to Moynihan's. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 You'd get an indulgence, Maire, if you missed a 
 dance. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Would it be so hard to get an indulgence? {She takes 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 19 
 
 flowers from dresser and puts them in window) The 
 house looks nice this evening. We'll keep Brian here 
 for a while, and then we'll go to Moynihan's. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Father will be going out to-night. 
 MAiRE {turning suddenly from window) 
 Will he? 
 
 ANNE 
 
 He will. I think I ought to stay in. Maire, father was 
 in only a while before you the night before last and 
 another night. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 O, and I thinking things were going so well with us. 
 He's drinking again. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 He's going to Flynn's again. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Disgracing us again. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 I'll stay in to-night. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I'm tired of this. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Don't say it that way, Maire. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 What will people say of us two now? 
 
 ANNE 
 
 I'll talk to him to-night. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 No, you're going out — you're going to Moynihan's 
 — you're going to see your sweetheart. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 I think you're becoming a stranger to us, Maire. 
 
20 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 You're going to Moynihan's to-night, and I'm going, 
 
 too. But I'm going to settle this first. Once and 
 
 for all I'm going to settle this. 
 
 \^The fiddle has ceased. As Maire goes towards the 
 
 room, Conn Hourican comes down, the fiddle in his 
 
 hand. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Were you listening to the tune I was playing? Ah, 
 that was a real oul' tune, if there was anyone that 
 knew it. Maire, my jewel, were you listening? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I heard you. 
 
 CONN 
 
 It was a real oul' tune, and while I was playing it a 
 great scheme came into my head. Now, listen to me, 
 Maire; and you listen, too, Anne. Both of you would 
 like to see your father having what's his due after all, 
 honour and respect. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Both of us would like to see our father earn the same. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I could earn the same, ay, and gold and silver cups 
 besides, if I had the mind to earn them. 
 \^He puts fiddle on table and prepares to speak impres- 
 sively. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Let ye listen to me now; I've a scheme to put before 
 ye. When I was going over the oul' tune, I remem- 
 bered that I'd heard of a Feis^ that's coming on soon, 
 
 ^ Feis, pronounced Fesh, a musical or literary gathering, with 
 competitions. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 21 
 
 the Feis of Ardagh. I'm thinking of going there. 
 There will be great prizes for some one; I don't 
 doubt but I'd do at Ardagh better than I did at the 
 Feis of Granard, where people as high as bishops 
 were proud and glad to know Conn Hourican the 
 Fiddler. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Father, you've a place to mind. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I'm tired of that kind of talk; sure I'm always think- 
 ing of the place. Maire hasn't little notions. What 
 do you say to it, Maire, my girl.? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 What do I say? I say you're not a rambler now, 
 though indeed you behave like one. 
 
 CONN 
 
 You have something against me, Maire. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I have. 
 
 CONN 
 
 What has she against me, Anne? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 All the promises you broke. 
 
 CONN 
 
 You were listening to what the town is saying. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 What does the town know? Does it know that you 
 stripped us of stock and crop, the year after we came 
 here? Does it know that Anne and myself, two girls 
 of the roads, had to struggle ever since to keep a 
 shelter? 
 CONN (bitterly) 
 It knows that. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 It couldn't help but know it, maybe. But does it 
 
 know all the promises you made and broke? 
 CONN {angrily) 
 
 Hush now; I'll hear no more. I went my own way 
 
 always, and I'll go my own way always. 
 
 {He goes to the entrance, and remains with his back 
 
 turned. Maire goes to Anne. 
 MAIRE (raising her voice) 
 
 Ay, he'll go his own way always. What was the good 
 
 of working and saving here? 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Be quiet with him. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 He'll go his own way always, and it's foolish of us 
 to be fretting for him night and day. 
 {Maire sits on stool and puts her hands across her face. 
 CONN (turning his head) 
 
 Fretting for me. It was too easy that I reared you. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 God help Maire! She kept the house together at 
 the worst, and she is always fretting for us. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I'm oul' enough to mind myself. Let her remember 
 that. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 It's you that ought to remember that. 
 CONN (going to Maire) 
 
 Did I ever give the harsh word to you, child? 
 
 {No answer. 
 
 CONN 
 
 There, there; I never could see tears in a woman's 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 23 
 
 eyes; there, there, colleen. I'm an onl' man; I won't 
 be a trouble to you long. 
 MAiRE (rising) 
 
 Why need you play in Flynn's? You're as good as 
 any that goes there. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I know that. I'm disgusted with Flynn. May hell 
 loosen his knees for him! I'll go in and throw his 
 money on the counter. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Some one else can do that. Promise me you won't 
 go near the place. 
 
 CONN 
 
 You'll have me promise. I promise. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Take this in your hand and promise. It's a medal 
 that belonged to mother. 
 \^She takes a medal from her neck. 
 CONN (taking the medal) 
 
 I'm disgusted with Flynn. I promise you, Maire. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Now you've honour and respect. 
 
 CONN 
 
 And what about Ardagh, Maire.^ 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Sure, you're not the rambling fiddler any more. 
 
 CONN 
 
 That would be the good rambling. I see the trees 
 making shadows across the roads. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 We'll talk about it again. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Brian MacConnell will be coming in now. 
 
24 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 CONN 
 
 I'm going out to Brian MacConnell. 
 [He goes to the door. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Tell Brian to come in now. 
 
 [Conn Hourican goes out. There is a pause. Maire 
 
 hums a time as she goes to the mirror. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Am I looking well to-day? 
 ANNE (rather distantly) 
 
 You're looking your best, I think. (Seriously) Maire, 
 
 I didn't like the way you talked to father. 
 MAIRE (petulantly) 
 
 What have you against it? 
 
 ANNE 
 
 You're becoming a stranger to us, Maire. 
 MAIRE (as an apology) 
 
 I'm out often, I know, but I think as much 
 as ever of the house, and about you and father. 
 You know we couldn't let him go to the Feis at 
 Ardagh. We couldn't let him go off like a rambling 
 fiddler. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 We couldn't let him go off by himself. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 You're going to Moynihan's. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Maybe I'll go. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Anne, honey, do something for me. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 What will I do? 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 25 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 You'll meet father coming up with Brian, and take 
 him away. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 And will you tell me everything to-night? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Who else would I talk to but yourself, Nancy? (Anne 
 goes out) I wish Anne hadn't spoken to me like that. 
 I feel the like of that. (Desperately) Well, I'll pray for 
 nothing now but to look my best. (She goes to the fire. 
 Brian MacConnell comes in) You're welcome, Brian. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 We didn't finish to-day. I'll come in to-morrow and 
 finish. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 no, Brian, we won't take another day from you. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Well, what's a day after all? Many's the day and 
 night I put in thinking on you. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 But did you do what I asked you to do? 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 1 did. I made it up with my brothers. It was never 
 my way before. What I wanted I took with the 
 strong hand; or if I mightn't put the strong hand on 
 it, I left it alone. 
 
 MAIRE (eagerly) 
 
 Tell me what your brother said to you. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 When I came up to the door, Hugh came out to meet 
 me. "What destruction are you bringing me?" he 
 said. "There's my hand," says I, "and I take your 
 offer." 
 
26 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Ah, that's settled. You could settle anything, Brian. 
 {She goes to the settle and sits down) I wonder could 
 you settle something for us? 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 What is it, Maire? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 It's my father. He wants to be rambling again. He 
 wants to be going to some Feis. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Sure, let him go. 
 \^He takes her hand. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I couldn't, Brian. Couldn't you help us? Couldn't 
 you keep father's mind on the right things? 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Sure, let the fiddler go on the roads. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 You might stay here this evening with ourselves. 
 
 Father would be glad to talk with you. 
 BRIAN (putting his arm around her) 
 
 But I want the two of us to be seen in Moynihan's 
 
 to-night. 
 MAIRE (resistance in her voice) 
 
 Stay here with us, and let all that go by. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Hugh will be there with that woman that brought him 
 the big fortune; and I want you to take the shine out 
 of her. 
 
 MAIRE (rising) 
 
 I was out often lately.. You know that, Brian. 
 [_She goes to chair at table, and sits aioay from him. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 27 
 
 BRIAN {rising and going to her) 
 
 But this night above all you must be with me. 
 
 MAiRE {turning to him impulsively) 
 
 Stay here and I'll be as nice to you as if we were in 
 another house. {He kisses her. She rises arid goes 
 from him) If you knew me at all, Brian MacConnell, 
 that's not the way you'd treat me. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Are you not coming out with me? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 You must leave me to myself now. {Conn Hourican 
 comes in) Is Anne with you, father? 
 
 CONN 
 
 She's gathering posies or something like that. Brian, 
 did you hear about the Feis at Ardagh? 
 MAIRE {with vehemence) 
 
 Oh, what's the good of talking about that? You 
 can't go. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Can't go, did you say, girl? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Oh, how could you go? 
 
 CONN 
 
 Is that the way? Well, God help us. Give me that 
 
 fiddle till I leave it up. 
 
 ^He takes the fiddle off dresser, and turns to go. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Father, let me be with you to-night; oh, I'm sorry 
 
 if I vexed you. {No reply) Well, stay with Brian 
 
 MacConnell; I'm going out to Anne. 
 
 \_Maire goes out. Brian goes to rack, and puts on his 
 
 coat. 
 
28 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Are you coming. Conn? I'm off. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Where to, man? 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 To Flynn's. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I can't be going, I'm sorry to say. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 I'm going anyway. It's a great thing to be in the 
 company of men. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Ay, in troth. Women, Brian, leave the heart of one 
 very lonesome. 
 BRIAN (masterfully) 
 
 Why can't you come out? I thought you were going 
 to-night. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I can't, Brian, and that reminds me. Give these few 
 shillings to Flynn for me. I'll owe them to you still. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 I'm not going to be bothered by the like. Why 
 can't you come? 
 
 CONN 
 
 I promised Maire. 
 
 [^Brian strides away. He turns, comes hack deliberately, 
 
 and sits on table beside Conn. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 They'll be all looking out for you at Flynn's. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Well, the next time they see me they may respect me. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Some of the boys will take it very unkindly. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 29 
 
 CONN 
 
 They're decent enough fellows, some of them. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 And above all nights they'll be watching out for 
 you this night, on account of the Sligomen. 
 
 CONN 
 
 They're decent enough fellows, as I said, and I'll 
 be sorry to disappoint them, 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 The Sligomen will have great stories about Shawn 
 Heffernan. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Shawn Heffernan! Is that impostor still alive? 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 He is, and for fiddling these Sligomen think there's 
 not the like of him in the whole of Ireland. 
 
 CONN 
 
 God help them if that's all they know. We played 
 against each other at the Granard Feis. He got the 
 prize, but everybody knew that it was me played the 
 best. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 There's few of them alive now that mind of the Gran- 
 ard Feis. He got the prize, and there's no talk of 
 you at all. 
 
 CONN 
 
 No talk of me at all? 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 It's said that since you settled down you lost your 
 aH. 
 
 CONN 
 
 And what had the men at Flynn's to say about 
 that? 
 
30 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 They bragged about you for a while, but the Sligomen 
 put them down. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I wonder would we have time to go up, play a few 
 tunes, and come back, while Maire would be doing 
 something? It would be a pity not to give them 
 fellows a lesson and close their ignorant mouths for 
 them. I wonder would we have time? {Anne comes 
 in with Maire) I thought you went somewhere and 
 left Brian and myself here. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 We're going somewhere and Brian might come with us. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Every one is going to Moynihan's. 
 
 CONN 
 
 It's a pleasant house, a pleasant house. Brian will 
 make his ceilidh^ with me. We might go over a few 
 tunes. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Let Brian come where there are girls that might miss 
 him. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Anne, you're a great one for keeping up the story 
 that girls are always thinking about men. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 And so they are. Just as men are always thinking 
 about girls. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 You'd make a good ribbonman.^ You'd put a face 
 on anything you said. 
 
 ^ Celidh, pronounced cayley, a visit. 
 
 ^ A ribbonman — a member of a secret agrarian society. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 31 
 
 .ANNE 
 
 Ribbonism and secret societies were denounced off 
 the altar. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Goodness! The men will begin to think they've 
 secrets worth telling. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Have you secrets worth telling, Brian? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I daresay he has. There are foolish women in the 
 world. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Are you coming to Moynihan's, Brian? 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 No. I'm going where there's men. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Come, Anne, till I deck you out. Come here, daugh- 
 ter, don't wear flowers. I think they're unlucky. 
 Here I am talking like this, and I going to a dance. 
 I suppose I'll dance with seven or eight and forget 
 what's on my mind. . . . Everyone is going to Moyni- 
 han's except the men here. Are you going out, father? 
 
 CONN 
 
 I'm making a ceilidh with Brian. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Well, God be with you both. Come on, Anne. 
 \_Maire takes down her shawl, and puts it over her head. 
 She stands at the door, watching Anne, who goes to 
 Brian. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Brian, what have you against Moynihan's? 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Nothing at all. I may go in. 
 
32 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Come on, Anne. God be with you both. 
 
 \^Maire and Anne go out. They are heard talking jor a 
 
 while. Conn goes to the door. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Maire and Anne are turning the bohereen.^ Come 
 
 on now. 
 
 [He takes his fiddle and begins to wrap it up eagerly. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Ay, let's go. 
 CONN (at door) 
 
 I never forget, I never forget. The Granard Feis is 
 as fresh in my mind as the day I played at it. Shawn 
 Heffernan, indeed! I never forget. I never forget. 
 [Conn Hourican and Brian MacConnell go out. 
 
 1 Bohereen — the little path gomg from the cottage to the main 
 road. 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
ACT II 
 
 The next day: The scene is as in 'previous Act. It is 
 now in the forenoon. Maire Hourican is seated at the 
 fire in a listless attitude. Anne is busy at the dresser. 
 Maire rises. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 We shouldn't have stayed at Moynihan's so late. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Indeed it would have been better to go home, but I 
 was sure that Brian MacConnell would come in. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Well, it was his own loss if he didn't come. Maybe 
 there was one there that I liked better. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 You couldn't have liked Connor Gilpatrick better 
 than Brian MacConnell. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Connor's the best-looking boy in the country. Was it 
 noticed that we were together often? 
 ANNE {significantly) 
 
 Peggy Carroll noticed it. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Well, the boy was glad to talk to me. Connor's a 
 good dancer, and he has fine talk besides. If Brian 
 MacConnell had come to the door, I wouldn't have 
 turned my head towards him. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Sure, you wouldn't compare a young boy like Connor 
 Gilpatrick with Brian MacConnell? 
 
34 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I wouldn't have turned my head towards Brian. O! 
 never expect kindness from men. Why did you let 
 me stay on.'* I'm afraid to look at myself in the glass 
 to-day. {She goes over to the mirror) You were hard 
 on me, Anne, yesterday. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 I didn't like the way you talked to father. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I think I'm getting different to what I used to be. 
 Well, I've reason to be sorry for what I did yesterday. 
 {She is at window) Was Peggy Carroll vexed at the 
 way I went on? 
 
 ANNE 
 
 She never took her eyes off the pair of you. You 
 know she's very fond of Connor. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Anne, never remind me of my foolishness. I'm heart- 
 sick of myself to-day. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 I'll comb out your hair for you, and you'll look well 
 enough. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Then you're expecting Brian MacConnell? 
 
 ANNE 
 
 It's likely he'll come in to see if there's anything to 
 be done. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I suppose he'll come in. Gracious, how did father 
 get out? He's coming up the path. 
 ANNE {coming to Maire) 
 
 Father's not up, surely? Maire, be easy with Brian 
 MacConnell when he comes in. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 35 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Father's coming up the path. Anne! 
 
 ANNE 
 
 What is it, Maire? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Father wasn't in at all, last night. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Then he went to Flynn's, after all. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Ay, he went to Flynn's. 
 [^She goes to Anne. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Maire, what will become of us all? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 1 don't know. 
 
 \_Maire goes to the settle, and sits doion. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 What will we do with him at all? 
 \_Conn Hourican comes in. 
 
 CONN 
 
 God save you ! (He looks around) Well, I came back 
 to ye. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 You did, God help us! And we depending on you. 
 It's the bad way you always treated us. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Did you hear what happened to me, before you 
 attack me? 
 
 ANNE 
 
 What happened to you? What always happens to 
 you? 
 
 CONN 
 
 I wonder that a man comes in at all! The complaints 
 
36 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 against him are like the Queen's Speech, prepared 
 beforehand. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Ever since I can remember, you treated us Hke that. 
 Bringing us into drinking-places and we httle. It's 
 well we got to know anything, or got into the way of 
 being mannerly at all. 
 
 CONN 
 
 You know too much. I always said that. Is James 
 Moynihan coming here to-day? 
 
 ANNE 
 
 No, he isn't coming here to-day. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Well, we can do without him. There's something to 
 be done to-day. I said I'd do the bit of mowing, and 
 I was thinking of that all along. {He looks at Maire) 
 Did you hear what happened to me, Maire.'' 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 It's no matter at all. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I went over to Flynn's, I may tell you. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 In troth we might have known that. 
 
 CONN 
 
 But did you hear what happened to me? 
 
 ANNE 
 
 How could we hear? It was Maire went to the door, 
 and there you were coming up the path; and we 
 thinking you were in bed, resting yourself. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I went over to Flynn's, but I had good reason for 
 going there. (He puts the fiddle down on the table) 
 Didn't you hear there were Sligomen in the town. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 37 
 
 Maire? Well, one of them was in the way of reward- 
 ing the prizes. I told you about the Feis; well, it's 
 no matter now, I'll say no more about that. At all 
 events the man I mentioned wanted to know what 
 music was in the country, so he sent a message to 
 myself. 
 ANNE {as satirical as she can be) 
 That was kind of him. 
 
 CONN 
 
 It was. I could do no less than go. I'll rest myself 
 now, and then get ready for the mowing. (He goes 
 to the room door; he turns again and watches Maire) 
 Maire, I'm sorry you weren't on the spot. You 
 might have advised me. I couldn't think of where 
 you went or I'd have followed you. I had to make 
 haste. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 It's no matter at all now. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I'll stretch myself on the bed before I begin work. 
 Anne, did you say you were leaving something in 
 the room for me? 
 
 ANNE 
 
 I suppose I'll have to leave the tea in the room for 
 you. 
 
 \^She gets the tea ready. Maire remains motionless. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Well, I have the pattern of daughters, anyway. I 
 wouldn't give this house for the praise of Ireland, no, 
 not if they carried me on their backs. (Anne takes 
 the tea up to the room) It's a pity you weren't there, 
 Maire, though of course I wouldn't bring you into 
 such a place. But they were decent fellows, decent. 
 
38 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 warm-hearted fellows. If you were to see their faces 
 when I played An Chailin Donn. I'll warrant they'll 
 be whistling it, though they never heard the tune 
 before. And the manners they have! I offered the 
 fiddle to one of them. "No," says he, "not a string 
 will I touch while the master of us is here." That's 
 something like the spirit. (Maire has turned to him 
 and is attentive) But there, I won't fill myself up 
 with false music telling you about it all. 
 \^He turns to the room. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Bring up your fiddle. 
 CONN (taking fiddle and going towards room again) 
 
 It will be as good as sound sleeping for me. I'll never 
 forget it. Flynn will never forget it. It will be the 
 making of Flynn. 
 \^Maire rises. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 You've only your fiddle; we shouldn't forget that. 
 [^Conn goes up to the room. Maire turns to the fire. 
 Anne comes down. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 O Maire, what will become of us at all.? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 He is very pleased with himself. He has only his 
 fiddle, we shouldn't forget that. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 It will be a long time till he does the like again. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 It will be a long time, I suppose. Both of us might be 
 in a diflferent house and have difiFerent cares. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 That would be terrible. I'll never leave him, Maire. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 39 
 
 MAIRB 
 
 You can't say the like now. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Why? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 How could you take such things upon you and life 
 stretching out before you? You're not young enough, 
 Anne. Besides, it's not what we say; it's what we 
 feel. No, it's not what we feel either; it's what 
 grows up in us. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 He might never do the like again. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Many's the time mother said that, and she and me 
 lying together. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Will we ever get out of it, Maire? 
 
 l^James enters. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 You have only a while to stay with us. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 James, what will your father say if he hears of you 
 giving us another day? 
 
 JAMES 
 
 My father took a stick in his hand this morning, and 
 went ofiF with himself. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 You're welcome, James. It was a pleasant time we 
 had in your house last evening. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 1 hope you liked the company, Maire. I'm afraid 
 there was very little to be called refined or scholarly. 
 
40 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 and the conversation at times was homely enough. 
 But we did our best, and we were proud to see you. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Sit down, James. 
 
 [^James sits on chair, near table. Maire is seated at 
 
 fire, left of James. Anne leans against table, right of 
 
 him. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 Your father is outside, maybe? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 No. He's above in the room. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 Yes. Practising, I suppose. Them that have the 
 gift have to mind the gift. In this country there 
 isn't much thought for poetry, or music, or scholar- 
 ship. Still, a few of us know that a while must be 
 spared from the world if we are to lay up riches in the 
 mind. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 I hope there's nothing wrong at home? 
 JAMES {turning to Anne) 
 
 To tell you the truth, Anne, and to keep nothing 
 back, there is. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 And what is it, James? 
 JAMES {turning to Maire) 
 
 Anne was talking to my father last night. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Indeed I was, and I thought him very friendly to me. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 Ay, he liked you well enough, I can tell you that, 
 
 , Anne. This morning when he took a stick in his 
 
 hand, I knew he was making ready for a journey, for 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 41 
 
 the horse is laid up. "Walk down a bit with me," 
 said he, "and we'll go over a few things that are in 
 my mind." Well, I walked down with him, and 
 indeed we had a serious conversation. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Well? 
 
 JAMES 
 
 "Anne Hourican is too young," said my father; "she's 
 a nice girl, and a good girl, but she's too young." 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Sure in a while Anne will be twenty. 
 JAMES {turning to Maire) 
 
 Ten years from this father would still think Anne 
 too young. And late marriages, as everybody knows, 
 is the real weakness of the country. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 I thought your father liked me. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 He likes you well enough, but, as he says, "what 
 would she be doing here and your sisters years older 
 than herself?" There's truth in that, mind you. I 
 always give in to the truth. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 James? 
 JAMES {turning to Maire) 
 Well, Make? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Is Anne a girl to be waiting twenty years for a man, 
 like Sally Cassidy? 
 
 JAMES 
 
 God forbid, Maire Hourican, that I'd ask your sister 
 to wait that length. 
 
42 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 She hasn't got a fortune. We were brought up dif- 
 ferent to farmers, and maybe we never gave thought 
 to the like. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 She has what's better than a fortune. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Why aren*t your sisters married off? 
 
 JAMES 
 
 Big fortunes are expected with them. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 And they look to your wife to bring a big fortune 
 into the house? 
 
 JAMES 
 
 Ay, they do that. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 You, James, ought to have some control in the house. 
 You're the only son. Your father is well off. Get 
 him to fortune off your sisters, and then bring Anne 
 to the house. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 But how could I get father to fortune oflF the girls? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 How? By weakening up. You have the right. When 
 we have the right, we ought to be able to do any- 
 thing we like with the people around us. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 I give in to the truth of that, Maire. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 What will come of you giving in to the truth of it? 
 But sure you ought to remember, Anne. 
 ANNE {taking Jameses hand) 
 
 James has the good way with people. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 43 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Well, I suppose it will come out right for you in the 
 end. You are both very deserving, (She rises) But 
 some time or another we have to take things into our 
 own hands. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 Indeed that's true, Maire. 
 
 \^Maire goes to hack. 
 ANNE {holding James's hand) 
 
 Did you make any more songs, James? 
 
 JAMES 
 
 I have a song in my head since last night. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 The one in the paper is lovely. I know it by heart. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 The next I make will be ten times better. 
 \_Conn Hourican comes down. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I heard your voice, James, and I thought I'd come 
 down. It's very good of you to come here again. I'll 
 be out with you to-day. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 It'll be a good day from this on. Were you practising 
 above, Mister Hourican? 
 
 CONN 
 
 Well, no, James, I wasn't practising. I was at a big 
 
 gathering last night, and my hands are unstrung like. 
 
 We'll talk for a while, and then I'll go out with you. 
 ANNE (taking James's arm) 
 
 Come out with me for a minute, James. 
 JAMES (going off) 
 
 I'll see you again, Mister Hourican. 
 
 [^James and Anne go out. 
 
44 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 CONN 
 
 Well, God help us. {lie turns to go back to the room. 
 Maire comes down from back) Are you going out, 
 Maire? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 No, I'm staying here. 
 CONN (aggrieved) 
 
 Do you mind them two, how they went out together. 
 
 I think I'll go out and see what's to be done about the 
 
 place. 
 
 [^Conn goes towards the entrance. Maire goes towards 
 
 the fire. 
 CONN (pausing at door) 
 
 I broke my word to you, Maire. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I don't know what to say to you now. 
 
 CONN 
 
 It was the music and the strange faces that drew me. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I know that now. 
 
 CONN 
 
 It will be a long time till I break my word to you 
 again. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I'll never ask for your word again. 
 CONN (warmly) 
 
 I can tell you this, Maire. There's many's the place 
 in Ireland where Conn Hourican's word would be 
 respected. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I'll never ask for your word again. You have only 
 your fiddle, and you must go among people that will 
 praise you. When I heard you talking of your lis- 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 45 
 
 teners, I knew that. I was frightened before that. 
 When I saw you coming, I went and sat there, and I 
 thought the walls of the house were crowding in on me. 
 
 CONN 
 
 You were partly to blame, Maire. You left me there 
 very lonesome. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I was to blame, I suppose. I should have treated you 
 differently. Well, I know you better now. Let you 
 sit down and we'll talk together. (Conn sits on chair 
 to right of table) What's to become of myself I don't 
 know. Anne and James Moynihan will marry, I 
 hope. Neither of us have fortunes, and for that 
 reason our house should be well spoken of. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Sure I know that. I wouldn't bring the shadow of a 
 disgrace near ye. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 If the father isn't well spoken of, how could the house 
 be well spoken of.'^ They're big drinkers that go to 
 Flynn's, and it's easy for the fiddler to get into the 
 way of drinking. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I won't go to Flynn's when you put it that way. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I'll ask for no word. I'll let you know the real way 
 of the house, and then trust you. 
 
 CONN 
 
 You're a good girl, Maire. I should have been said 
 by you. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 From this out there will be dances at the schoolhouse 
 and the like of that. You could be playing at them. 
 
46 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 CONN 
 
 None of the oul' people go to the Hke, and the young 
 don't understand me nor my ways. God knows will 
 I ever play again. That thought is often with me of 
 late, and it makes me very lonesome. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 That's foolishness. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I was very lonesome when you left me. You don't 
 know how I was tempted, Maire. There was Brian 
 MacConnell putting on his coat to go to Flynn's, and 
 talking of the Sligomen. 
 MAIRE (startled) 
 
 And was it to Flynn's that Brian MacConnell went? 
 
 CONN 
 
 It was Brian that brought me to Flynn's. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Was it Brian MacConnell that brought you to 
 Flynn's.? 
 
 CONN 
 
 It was. 
 MAIRE (passionately) 
 
 You must never go to Flynn's. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I'm ashamed of myself. Didn't I say that, Maire? 
 
 MAIRE (with hardness) 
 
 You must never go again. 
 
 CONN 
 
 And is a man to have no life to himself? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 That's talk just. It's time you thought of your own 
 place and your own children. It's time you gave up 
 caring for the praise of foolish people. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 47 
 
 CONN 
 
 Foolish people, did you say? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Ay, foolish people. You had all your life to yourself, 
 and you went here and there, straying from place to 
 place, and caring only for the praise of foolish people. 
 
 CONN 
 
 God help you, if that's your way of thinking! Sure 
 the world knows that a man is born with the gift, 
 and isn't the gift then the sign of the grace of God.f^ 
 Foolish people, indeed! Them that know the gift 
 have some of the grace of God, no matter how poor 
 they may be. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 You're always thinking of them. You never think 
 of your own. Many's the time your own cried tears 
 over your playing. 
 CONN {passionately, starting up) 
 I'll go out of the house. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Let you stay here. 
 CONN (going towards entrance) 
 
 I'll go out of the house, I tell you. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 No. 
 
 [Conn goes over to the fire. 
 
 CONN 
 
 God help me that ever came Into this country at all. 
 (He sits down on the armchair, his hands resting on 
 his stick) I had friends once, and was well thought 
 of; I can tell you that, my daughter. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I know that. 
 
48 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 CONN 
 
 Well, you can have your own way with me now. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Why can't you stay here? There's lots to be done 
 here. Our fields are a laughing-stock to the neigh- 
 bours, they're that poor and wasted. Let us put all our 
 minds into working, and have a good place of our own. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Ay, and the grabbers and informers of this place 
 would think well of you then. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Who do you call grabbers and informers? 
 
 CONN 
 
 The people of this place. The people you want to 
 shine before. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I don't want to shine before the people. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I'm not saying against you, Maire. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 You're wrong in thinking I want to shine at all. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Sure you go to every dance and ceilidh; and to every 
 house where you can show off your face, and dancing, 
 and conversation. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Do I? Maybe I do. Every girl does the like. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I'm not saying against it. 
 \_Pause. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 You think I'm like yourself, wanting the praise of 
 the people. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 49 
 
 CONN 
 
 And what's the harm if you do? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 No harm at all. But I don't go to houses to show 
 myself oflf. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Troth and you do, Maire. 
 
 [//e rises and goes towards the entrance, and remains 
 
 looking out. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I won't believe it. 
 
 [_She goes to the settle. Anne comes in. Anne goes to 
 
 the glass to fix her hair. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Had you a good night at Moynihan's, Anne? : 
 
 ANNE 
 
 A sort of a good night. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I was going to tell you about a man I met last night. 
 He had a song about your grandmother. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Was grandmother a great beauty, father? 
 
 CONN 
 
 Honor Gilroy had good looks, and indeed she made 
 the most of them. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 It's likely there was some to tell her that she was 
 showing off. 
 
 CONN 
 
 No one was to her liking unless they praised her. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Ah well, a fiddler ought to forgive that to a woman. 
 
50 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Fiddlers and women are all alike, but don't say that 
 to him. 
 
 \_Anne goes to Maire and sits beside her. 
 CONN (speaking to both) 
 
 Well, Honor Gilroy wasn't the worst, maybe. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 And fiddlers and women oughtn't be hard on each 
 other. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Do you say that, Maire? 
 MAIRE (rising and going to him) 
 I say it, father. 
 
 CONN 
 
 God forgive me if I vexed you, Maire. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 It's clearing up now, father, and you ought to go out 
 to James. (Conn turns to the door. He remains in 
 the doorway. Anne rises and goes to Maire) What 
 did you say to him.'* 
 MAIRE (looking at Conn) 
 
 He doesn't feel it at all. Father will always be the 
 fiddler, no matter what we say. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Maire. Come and talk to me. (They sit at fire) I 
 was talking to James. He'll never be happy until 
 we're under the one roof. 
 \_Maire clasps Anne's hands passionately. 
 MAIRE (with cry) 
 
 Anne, daughter, I'll be very lonesome for you. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 But sure I won't be far off, Maire. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 51 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Ay, but it's terrible to face things alone. 
 
 \_James has come to the door. Conn and James have 
 
 been talking. They turn in. 
 
 CONN 
 
 But I'll be glad enough to have the scythe in my 
 hands after it all, James. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 Anne was telling me how you took the victory from 
 Connaught. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Still I'm sorry for him! That poor Heffernan! He'll 
 never hold up his head again. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 Sure I'd have it in a ballad that would be sung in his 
 own town. It would be well worth putting into a 
 ballad. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Well indeed, it would make a right good ballad, 
 James. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 I'd like to make a ballad about it, that would be sung 
 all over Connaught. 
 
 CONN 
 
 And why wouldn't you do it, James Moynihan? 
 Sure it would be the making of you. It would be 
 sung all over Ireland, and your name to it. Do you 
 hear that, Maire? Do you hear that, Anne? 
 
 JAMES 
 
 I'm saying that I'd like to do a ballad about your 
 father's victory. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Maybe you could have it this night week, James? 
 
52 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Will it be a poem or a ballad, James? 
 [^Anne goes to him. 
 
 CONN 
 
 If you had it this night week, we could bring the boys 
 to the place. What do you say to that, INIaire? We'll 
 bring the boys here this night week to hear James 
 Moynihan's ballad. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I was thinking of the Feis at Ardagh. 
 
 CONN 
 
 The Feis at Ardagh? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Maybe you'll be going to it this night week. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Sure you're not joking with me, Maire? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 No. 
 
 l^She rises. 
 
 CONN 
 
 God forgive me, Maire, if I vexed you. 
 [^Maire goes up to Conn's room. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Anne, jewel, had Maire anything to say about Ardagh? 
 
 ANNE 
 
 We weren't talking about that at all. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 Play me a rouse on the fiddle and maybe the ballad 
 
 will come into my head. 
 
 {^Maire comes down, a fiddle in her hands. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Here's the fiddle that was your favourite, the Gran- 
 ard fiddle. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 5S 
 
 CONN 
 
 And this is the fiddle I'll bring with me to Ardagh. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 And is he going to Ardagh? 
 
 JAMES 
 
 And what about the ballad. Mister Hourican? 
 
 CONN 
 
 I leave it all to Maire now. How well she bethought 
 of the Granard fiddle. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Father, we were always together. 
 
 l^She hands him the fiddle. Conn, Maire, James, Anne, 
 
 are at table, 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
ACT III 
 
 A week laier: The scene is as in previous Acts. The table 
 is near entrance. It is laid for a meal. The time is near 
 sunset. Conn Hourican, Maire Hourican, and James 
 Moynihan are seated at table. Maire Hourican rises. 
 She goes to entrance and remains looking out. Conn 
 and James go on eating. 
 
 CONN 
 
 However it is, I could never play my best in this 
 place. The houses are too scattered, I often think. 
 And it doesn't do for the fiddler to remain too long 
 in the one place. The people get too used to him. 
 Virgil made better songs than any man, but if Virgil 
 was sung in the fairs constant, divil much heed would 
 be given to his songs. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 Now, I often thought of that. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Another thing, James Moynihan, Ribbonism and the 
 Land League ruined the country. 
 [_Maire goes out. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 But sure we must be doing something for the Cause. 
 
 CONN 
 
 They were all Fenians here when I came into this 
 country first, over twenty years ago. 
 [^He rises and goes into room. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 Well, he's a great man, Conn Hourican. (James rises 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 55 
 
 and goes to fire. Conn comes out of room, carrying a 
 greatcoat) How do you think you'll do at Ardagh? 
 
 CONN 
 
 I think I'll do very well at Ardagh, James. 
 [^He leaves coat on settle. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 Everything's ready for the start. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Ay, and it's near time for going. I'm playing very 
 well lately, James. It's the thought of being before 
 people who'll know music. If I was staying in this 
 place any longer, James, I'd put my fiddle in the 
 thatch, and leave it there for the birds to pick holes 
 in. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 But won't you be back here after the Feis at Ardagh? 
 
 CONN 
 
 Well, I will, for a while anyway. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 And would you be going off again after a while.? 
 
 CONN 
 
 I'm thinking that when my daughters are settled I'll 
 have the years before me. I was reared in a place 
 south of this, and I'd like to go back there for a 
 while. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 But wouldn't you come back to us? 
 
 CONN 
 
 There's many's the place in Ireland that I never saw, 
 town and countryside. {He takes the greatcoat off settle 
 and puts it on him) Tell me, James Moynihan, is 
 your father satisfied with the settlement that Maire's 
 making for yourself and Anne? 
 
56 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 JAMES 
 
 My father is very well satisfied. 
 CONN (going towards his room) 
 
 And so he ought to be, James Moynihan. 
 [Goes into his room. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 My father had always a great liking for Anne. (Anne 
 comes out of the other room. James Moynihan goes to 
 her) May you never think, Anne, that you made 
 the bad choice when you took James Moynihan. 
 \_They sit on settle. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Sure I was never fond of any one but yourself. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 And I never cared for any one after I saw you. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 I used to hear that you were fond of another girl. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 I was fond of the girl that used to be in the newspaper 
 shop in the town. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 And used you to talk with her? 
 
 JAMES 
 
 The elbows were worn out of my coat with leaning on 
 the counter to talk with her. But she married a 
 policeman after that. He was a friend of mine, too. 
 It was me that got him the words and music for 
 "I'll hang my harp on a willow tree" — a song that 
 he was always looking for. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Did you make any songs about the girl? 
 
 JAMES 
 
 I did not. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 57 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Oh, James, I'm glad of that. I'm glad you made no 
 songs about her. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 Are you content to marry me in the town of Ardagh, 
 • after the Feis, as Maire wishes? 
 
 ANNE 
 
 It will be strange to be married in Ardagh, away from 
 the people I know. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 It will be lucky getting married after the Feis. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 James, it's a great trial for a girl to face marriage; 
 but, James, I'm very fond of you. 
 \_James kisses her. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 I don't know what to think of them writers who say 
 that the Irish girls haven't the heart for love. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Is Maire outside? 
 
 JAMES 
 
 She went out. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 It's a wonder that Brian MacConnell isn't here before 
 
 this. 
 
 \\Anne rises. Maire comes in. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Is there no one coming here? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 There is no one on the road. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Brian MacConnell is late in coming. 
 
58 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 [ilfaire comes up to the fire. Anne stands with her. 
 James goes to entrance, and remains looking out. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I saw Brian yesterday. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 And did you tell him that you were going at the 
 sunset? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I told him we were going in the evening. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Maybe you were distant with Brian? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 He looked like a man that something had happened 
 to. Connor Gilpatrick came up, and then I went 
 away. 
 
 [^Conn Hourican comes out of room. He has left the 
 greatcoat in room. He brings the fiddle with him. 
 Maire and Anne go to the settle. They talk. 
 JAMES {to Conn) 
 
 What would you think of a row of trees planted before 
 
 the door? 
 
 {Conn leaves fiddle on dresser, and comes to him. 
 
 CONN 
 
 They might be very becoming, James. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 My father was saying that the front looked very bare. 
 
 CONN 
 
 A row of trees, when they'd grow, would make a 
 great difference. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 That's what my father was saying. 
 {They talk. Conn leaning on the half -door. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 59 
 
 ANNE 
 
 I'm glad to be here. It would be very strange for 
 me to be married, and in another house. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I was thinking, Anne, that father and myself ought 
 to stay a while on the road, till you and James get 
 settled here. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 Listen, Maire. James says that he'll be giving this 
 place back to you after a while. With this start he'll 
 be able to get a house and land near his father's place. 
 He has fine schemes for making this place prosperous. 
 James, come here. {James turns from door) Come 
 here, James, and talk with Maire. 
 \jJames comes to girls, leaving Conn looking out. Maire 
 rises. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 I'll make a path down to the road, and, with a row 
 of trees before the door, the place will be well worth 
 looking at. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 We won't know the place after a while. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 We can never forget, Maire, that it is to you that we 
 owe the place and the start in life. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I never looked on the place as my own. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 And now that the land is in Anne's name, my father 
 will be glad to stock the place. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 You have all our will of the place. Father, speak to 
 James and tell him that he has your will of the place. 
 
60 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 CONN {turning from door) 
 
 Indeed you have, James, and we're overglad to have 
 Anne settled with a steady boy. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 Well, long life to you, Conn; and may the man of 
 art never want fame nor a friend. 
 CONN (going to dresser) 
 
 Drink to that, James. I 
 
 l^He takes up a bottle and fills two glasses. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 I never touch anything, Conn; but if Anne won't 
 think bad of me, I'll drink to your prosperity. 
 
 ANNE 
 
 I won't be watching you at all. (She goes to door. 
 To Maire) I'm going down the road, and if there's 
 any one coming here, I'll let you know. 
 \lAnne goes out. James takes the glass from Conn. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 Here's to the fiddler, first of all. May it be again like 
 in the days of Ireland's glory, when the men of art had 
 their rights and their dues. 
 [^He drinks. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Long life to yourself, James Moynihan. (Conn 
 drinks) I know you a long time now, and I know 
 nothing to your discredit. You're one of the few 
 people here that are to my liking. Well, if I'm noth- 
 ing to them, they're nothing to me. I Hved my own 
 life, and I had the gift. 
 JAMES (with excitement) 
 
 If Anne was here, I'd drink to her. I must go after 
 Anne. May she never repent of her choice. (He goes 
 to the door, then turns round) But sure I'm forget^ 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 61 
 
 ting the jewel of them all, yourself, Maire Hourican. 
 Long may you reign in splendour and success, and 
 in the wish of your heart. [^James Moynihan goes out. 
 Conn Hourican goes back to the door, and remains 
 looking out. Maire stands at fire. 
 
 CONN t. 
 
 It's strange to be looking across that door, and the 
 sun setting for our journey. And now we're letting 
 the place go out of our hands. Well, Honor Gilroy's 
 bit of land has been brought to a great many people. 
 £He conies down to dresser. Maire goes up to window, 
 and remains looking out. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Is there any one coming here, Maire? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 There is no one coming. It's no wonder James's 
 father thought the place was bare-looking. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Well, the bit of land is going to James, and I was 
 
 saying that it has been brought to a great many 
 
 people. 
 
 f^Maire takes paper out, and looks at it. 
 
 CONN 
 
 What paper is that, Maire? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 It's a paper that I have to put my name to. (She 
 goes and sits at table) There's a pen and ink near 
 your hand on the dresser, and you might give them 
 to me. It's about giving this place to Anne, and 
 James's father wants my name on the paper. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Well, isn't James's father the councillor, with his 
 paper and his signing? {He brings pen and ink from 
 
62 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 dresser, and leaves them on table. Maire makes prepa- 
 rations for writing. Conn lights candle at fire, and 
 brings it over to table) And does that give the place 
 to Anne for ever? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 It gives it to herself. {Maire signs the paper with the 
 slowness of one unaccustomed to ivriting) It will be a 
 great change for us when we come back to this place. 
 CONN {going to chair at fire) 
 
 It will be a great change for you and me, no matter 
 what we say. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 And now that James's father is putting stock on the 
 land, the Moynihans will have great call to the place. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Maire, your father is thinking of taking to the road. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 And how long would you be staying on the roads? 
 
 CONN 
 
 Ah, what is there to bring me back to this country, 
 Maire? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Sure you're not thinking of going on the roads alto- 
 gether? 
 
 CONN 
 
 The road for the fiddler. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Would you leave the shelter and the settled life? 
 Would you go on the road by yourself? 
 
 CONN 
 
 Anne and yourself will be settled, and I'll have the 
 years before me. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 63 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Then you'd go on the roads by yourself? 
 
 CONN 
 
 Sure I did it before, Maire. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Ah, but do you not remember the prayers that mother 
 used to say for us to get some shelter? Do you not 
 remember how proud and glad we were when we 
 come by a place of our own? 
 
 CONN 
 
 The shelter was for Anne and yourself. What had 
 I to do with it? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 The Moynihans are not the sort to make us feel 
 strangers in the place. 
 
 CONN 
 
 The place was your own, Maire, and you gave it to 
 your sister rather than see her waiting years and 
 years. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I came to give it to her after I saw how hard I was 
 on yourself. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Listen, my jewel, even if the Moynihans had nothing 
 to do with the place, what would Conn Hourican the 
 fiddler be doing in this country? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Ah, there are many you might play to; there are lots 
 that know about music. There's Michael Gilpatrick 
 and John Molloy — 
 
 CONN 
 
 And that's all, Maire. 
 
64 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 You might go to Flynn's an odd time. 
 
 CONN 
 
 And what do they know about music in Flynn's? 
 Young Corney Myles was up there a while ago, and 
 you'd think, from what the men said, that there was 
 never the like of Corney for playing, and the boy isn't 
 three years at the fiddle. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Father, stay here where the shelter is. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Sure, I'd be getting ould, and staying in the chimney- 
 corner, with no one to talk to me, for you'd be going 
 to a place of your own, and Anne, after a while, would 
 have too much to mind. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 The people here are kinder than you think. 
 
 CONN 
 
 But what has Conn Hourican to do with them any- 
 how? The very greatest were glad of my playing, 
 and were proud to know me. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I know that, father. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Well, one is always meeting new life upon the roads, 
 and I want to spend the years I have before me going 
 from place to place. 
 MAIRE {going to him) 
 
 If you took to the roads, I'd think I ought to go with 
 you, for we were always together. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Ah, Maire, there are some that would keep you here. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 65 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Do you know who would keep me here? 
 
 CONN 
 
 Brian MacConnell is very fond of you. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Do you know that, father? 
 
 CONN 
 
 And I know that you are fond of Brian. {There is no 
 answer) That my jewel may have luck and pros- 
 perity. {Goes towards room door, leaving Maire stand- 
 ing there) I'll be taking this fiddle, Maire. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Oh, are we going on the roads? 
 
 CONN 
 
 To Ardagh, Maire. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 To Ardagh. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I'll go up now, and make ready. 
 
 [He takes candle off table, and goes back towards room 
 
 door. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Oh, what do I know about Brian MacConnell, after 
 all? 
 
 CONN 
 
 Brian is wild, but he is free-handed. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Wild and free-handed! Are all men like that? Wild 
 and free-handed! But that's not the sort of man I 
 want to look to now. 
 
 CONN 
 
 That's nothing to Brian's discredit. 
 
66 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Ah, what do I know about Brian MacConnell, except 
 that he's a man of quarrels and broken words? 
 [^Conn holds up his hand warningly. Brian Mac- 
 Connell comes to door. 
 CONN {opening half-door) 
 You're welcome, Brian. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Thank you for the good word. Conn. 
 ^He comes in. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 You're welcome, Brian MacConnell. 
 CONN (taking candle off dresser) 
 
 I was going up to the room to make ready, but Maire 
 will be glad to speak to you. I knew you wouldn't let 
 us go without wishing us the luck of the road. 
 \^Goes up to room. Maire goes and sits on settle. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Brian MacConnell has come to us again. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 I'm before you again. Let me tell you what I was 
 doing since I was here last. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 What were you doing, Brian? Making quarrels, may 
 be? 
 BRIAN (startled) 
 
 Why do you say that? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I'm thinking that you were doing what would become 
 you, Brian MacConnell, with the free hand and the 
 wild heart. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 They were telling you about me? 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 67 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I know you, Brian MacConnell. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 You don't know how I care for you, or you couldn't 
 talk to me like that. Many's the time I left the spade 
 in the ground, and went across the bogs and the 
 rushes, to think of you. You come between me and 
 the work I'd be doing. Ay, and if Heaven opened 
 out before me, you would come between me and 
 Heaven itself. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 It's easy taking a girl's heart. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 And I long to have more than walls and a roof to 
 offer you. I'd have jewels and gold for you. I'd 
 have ships on the sea for you. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 It's easy to take a girl's heart with the words of a song. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 I'm building a house for you, Maire. I'm raising it 
 day by day. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 You left me long by myself. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 It's often I came to see the light in the window. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Brian, my father wants to go back to the roads. 
 \_Brian goes and sits by her. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 I know that Conn would like to go back. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 He wants to go on the roads, to go by himself from 
 place to place. 
 
68 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Maybe he has the right to go. 
 
 MAIRB 
 
 He has the right to go. It's the Ufe of a fiddler to 
 be on the roads. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 But you won't go on the roads. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Oh, what am I to do, Brian? 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Do you think of me at all, Maire? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Indeed I think of you. Until to-day I'd neither 
 laugh nor cry but on account of you. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 I'm building a house, and it will be white and fine, and 
 it's for you that I'm building the house. 
 
 MAIRB 
 
 You're going to ask for my promise. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Give me your promise before you go to Ardagh. 
 \_Maire rises. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 If I gave you my promise now, I'd have great delight 
 in coming back to this place again. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 You won't deny me, my jewel of love? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Oh, I'm very fond of Aughnalee. I feel that I was 
 reared in the place. I'd like to live all my life in the 
 place. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 And why would you go from it? 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 69 
 
 MAIEB 
 
 You might come with us to Ardagh, Brian. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Your father might stay with us when he'd be in this 
 country. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 That's true; I'm glad to think on that. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Give me your promise, Maire. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 We'll talk on the road. There's the blackbird. I'll 
 hear him every evening on the road, and I'll think 
 I'm a day nearer home. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Sure you'd leave them all to come with me. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Ay, I think I would. {She takes up a new kerchief, and 
 puis it on her, standing before the mirror) Do you 
 know where I saw you first, Brian? 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Where was it, Maire? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 In a field by the road. You were breaking a horse. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 I was always a good hand with a horse. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 The poor beast was covered with foam and sweat, 
 and at last you made it still. I thought it was grand 
 then. 
 [^She sings. 
 
 I know where I'm going, 
 
 I know who's going with me. 
 
70 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 I know who I love, 
 But the dear knows who I'll marry. 
 Are your brothers with you, Brian? 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Is it building with me? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Building with you? 
 l^She sings. 
 
 Some say he's dark, 
 
 I say he's bonny. 
 
 He's the flower of the flock. 
 
 My charming, coaxing Johnny. 
 BRIAN (with sombre passion) 
 
 No. My brothers are not with me. I quarrelled with 
 them all and I am nearly heart broken for what I did. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Ah, Brian MacCoimell, I don't know what to say to 
 you at all. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 You'll give me your promise, Maire? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Promise. I've no promise to give to any man. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Remember that these days past I had only yourself 
 to think on. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 There was never a man but failed me some time. 
 They all leave me to face the world alone. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 You said that I might go with you as far as Ardagh. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 No. You're not to come. Myself and my father go 
 to Ardagh by ourselves. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 71 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 How was I to know that you would take that 
 quarrel to heart? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I thought you were strong, but I see now that you 
 are only a man who forces himself to harsh behaviour. 
 I have my own way to go; my father wants to go 
 back to the roads, and it's right that I should be 
 with him, to watch over him. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 What shelter will you have on the road? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I'll have the quiet of evening, and my own thoughts, 
 and I'll follow the music; I'll laugh and hold up my 
 head again. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Maire Hourican, would you leave me? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 What can I do for you, Brian MacConnell? 
 
 [^Brian goes to settle, and puts his hands before his eyes. 
 
 She goes to him. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 You have thought for your father, and you have no 
 thought for me. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Indeed I have thought for you. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 O Maire, my jewel, do you care for me at all? 
 
 [^She kisses him. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Maire! 
 l_She rises. 
 
72 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I'm going to call my father. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 You go to him, and you go from me. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 You are both my care: my father and yourself. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 What will become of me when you go? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Isn't it right, Brian, that I should be with my father 
 on the roads? Even if I was in your house, I would 
 be thinking that I should watch over him. 
 
 BRIAN 
 
 Then it's good-bye you'd be saying? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Good-bye, Brian MacConnell. 
 
 BRIAN (at door) 
 
 Good-bye, Maire Hourican; gold and jewels, ships 
 on the sea, may you have them all. 
 \^ne 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 throunng herself down, remains 
 with her head buried in her hands. James Moynihan 
 comes in. Maire raises her head, and remains looking 
 before her. James comes to table, and puts flowers 
 beside Maire. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 We gathered them for you, Maire. They're the 
 woodbine. We were saying that you would be glad 
 of the flower of the road. (Maire puts her hand on 
 the flowers. James goes to the fire) Anne remembers 
 a good deal about the road. She minds of the grassy 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 73 
 
 ditches, where the two of you used to catch the young 
 birds. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I mind of them too. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 And the women that used to be with your mother, 
 that used to tell you the stories. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 And the things we used to talk about after a story! 
 There's the turn of the road, and who's waiting for 
 you? If it's your sweetheart, what will you say to 
 him? 
 
 JAMES 
 
 I'm often taken with the thought of the road! Going 
 to the fair on a bright morning, I'd often wish to 
 leave everything aside and follow the road. 
 {^A fiddle is heard outside. Conn Hourican comes down, 
 dressed for the road. He has on the greatcoat. He carries 
 fiddle. He puts fiddle on dresser. 
 
 CONN 
 
 What music is that, James? 
 
 JAMES 
 
 Some of the boys are coming to meet you, and they 
 have a fiddle with them. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Well, now, that's friendly of the boys. 
 
 JAMES 
 
 I'll go out now, and let them know that you're coming. 
 (He goes to door) Brian MacConnell turned the 
 other way, and Anne went after him. 
 ]^He goes out. 
 CONN (anxiously) 
 
 Why did Brian MacConnell go away? 
 
74 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 We didn't agree; no, not after all you said. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Maybe we'll see Brian at Ardagh. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 How would lie ever come back when I bid him go 
 from me? 
 
 CONN 
 
 You bid Brian go from you! {He goes to the window) 
 And there was myself that had the mind to go on the 
 road that I see stretched out before me. 
 MAIRE {going to him) 
 
 You need never come back here. 
 
 CONN 
 
 I'll come back with yourself. 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 I remember the time when we were on the roads. I 
 remember sights we used to see! Little towns here, 
 and big towns far away, and always the road. 
 
 CONN 
 
 And the lasting kindness of the road! 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 There is no need for you to come back here, father. 
 
 CONN 
 
 And would you follow the road? 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Go back to the fiddler's life, and I'll go back with 
 you. We'll see Anne and James at Ardagh, and we'll 
 be at their marriage. {She turns round as though to 
 take farewell of the house) It's right that this place 
 should go to Anne. The house wasn't for you, and 
 it wasn't for me either, I begin to think. 
 \_Anne comes in. 
 
THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 75 
 
 ANNE (with a cry) 
 
 Maire, you are going on the roads! 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 How do you know that? 
 
 ANNE 
 
 You bid Brian MacConnell go from you, and where 
 else would you go but on the roads? 
 [^She goes to the settle and throws herself down, her 
 hands before her face. Maire puts cloak on. Conn 
 goes to Anne. He takes her hands from her face and 
 holds them. 
 
 CONN 
 
 Don't be grieving that we're going from you, Anne. 
 When you come back here again, your own care will 
 begin. I know that you grieve for Maire going from 
 you, and my own heart is unquiet for her. (He goes 
 to dresser, takes fiddle and wraps it up. He puts hat on. 
 Maire goes to settle, and sits beside Anne) Well, here's 
 Conn Hourican the fiddler going on his travels again. 
 No man knows how his own life will end; but them 
 who have the gift have to follow the gift. I'm leaving 
 this house behind me; and maybe the time will come 
 when I'll be climbing the hills and seeing this little 
 house with the tears in my eyes. I'm leaving the 
 land behind me, too; but what's land after all against 
 the music that comes from the far, strange places, 
 when the night is on the ground, and the bird in the 
 grass is quiet? 
 
 [_The fiddle is heard again. Conn Hourican goes to 
 door. Maire embraces Anne again, rises and goes to 
 door. Anne follows slowly. Conn goes out. Maire 
 turns to Anne. 
 
76 THE FIDDLER'S HOUSE 
 
 MAIRE 
 
 Tell Brian MacConnell that when we meet again 
 maybe we can be kinder to each other. 
 {Maire Hourican goes out with Conn. Anne is left 
 standing at the door in the dusk. 
 
 END OF PLAY 
 
The Fiddler's House was first produced on 21st 
 March, 1907, by the Theatre of Ireland, in the Rotunda, 
 Dublin, with the following cast: — 
 
 Conn Hourican Joseph Goggin 
 
 Maire Hourican Maire Nic Shiubhlaigh 
 
 Anne Hourican Eileen O'Doherty 
 
 Brian MacConnell Ed. Keegan 
 
 James Moynihan P. Mac Siubhlaigh 
 
THE LAND: AN AGRARIAN 
 COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 
 
CHARACTERS 
 
 MuRTAGH CosGAR, a farmer 
 Matt, his son 
 Sallt, his daughter 
 Martin Douras, a farmer 
 Cornelius, his son 
 Ellen, his daughter 
 A group of men 
 A group of boys and girls 
 
 The scene is laid in the Irish Midlands, present time. 
 
ACT I 
 
 The interior of Murtagh Cosgar's. It is a large flagged 
 kitchen with the entrance on the right. The dresser is 
 below the entrance. There is a large fireplace in the back, 
 and a room door to the left of the fireplace; the harness- 
 rack is between room door and fireplace. The yard door 
 is on the left. The table is down from the room door. 
 There are benches around fireplace. 
 
 It is the afternoon of a May day. Sally Cosgar is 
 kneeling near the entrance chopping up cabbage-leaves 
 with a kitchen-knife. She is a girl of twenty-five, dark, 
 heavily built, with the expression of a half-awakened 
 creature. She is coarsely dressed, and has a sacking 
 apron. She is quick at work, and rapid and impetuous 
 in speech. She is talking to herself. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 Oh, you may go on grunting, yourself and your litter, 
 it won't put me a bit past my own time. You oul' 
 black baste of a sow, sure I'm slaving to you all the 
 spring. We'll be getting rid of yourself and your 
 litter soon enough, and may the devil get you when 
 we lose you. 
 
 \_Cornelius comes to the door. He is a tall young man 
 with a slight stoop. His manners are solemn, and his 
 expression somewhat vacant. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 Good morrow, Sally. May you have the good of the 
 day. {He comes in) 
 
84 THE LAND 
 
 SALLY (impetuously) 
 
 Ah, God reward you, Cornelius Douras, for coming 
 in. I'm that busy keeping food to a sow and a litter 
 of pigs that I couldn't get beyond the gate to see 
 any one. 
 
 CORNELIUS (solemnly) 
 
 You're a good girl, Sally. You're not like some I 
 know. There are girls in this parish who never put 
 hands to a thing till evening, when the boys do be 
 coming in. Then they begin to stir themselves the 
 way they'll be thought busy and good about a house. 
 
 SALLY (pleased and beginning to chop again with renewed 
 energy) 
 
 ' Oh, it's true indeed for you, Cornelius. There are 
 girls that be decking themselves, and sporting are 
 themselves all day. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 I may say that I come over to your father's, Murtagh 
 Cosgar's house, this morning, thinking to meet the 
 men. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 i What men, Cornelius Douras? 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 Them that are going to meet the landlord's people 
 with an offer for the land. We're not buying ourselves, 
 unfortunately, but this is a great day — the day of 
 the redemption, my father calls it — and I'd like to 
 have some hand in the work if it was only to say a 
 few words to the men. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 It's a wonder Martin, your father isn't on the one 
 errand with you. 
 
THE LAND 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 We came out together, but the priest stopped father 
 and us on the road. Father Bartley wanted his 
 advice, I suppose. Ah, it's a pity the men won't have 
 some one hke my father with them! He was in gaol 
 for the Cause. Besides, he's a well-discoursed man, 
 and a reading man, and, moreover, a man with a 
 classical knowledge of English, Latin, and the Hiber- 
 nian vernacular. 
 
 {^Martin Douras comes in. He is a man of about sixty, 
 with a refined, scholarly look. His manner is subdued 
 and nervous. He has a stoop, and is clean-shaven. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 I was just telling Sally here what a great day it is, 
 father. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Ay, it's a great day, no matter what our own troubles 
 may be. I should be going home again. (He takes a 
 newspaper out of his pocket, and leaves it on the table) 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 Wait for the men, father. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Maybe they'll be here soon. Is Murtagh in, Sally? 
 {^Cornelius takes the paper up, and begins to read it. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 He's down at the bottoms, Martin. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 He's going to Arvach Fair, maybe. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 He is in troth. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 I'll be asking him for a lift. He'll be going to the 
 Fair when he come back from the lawyer's, I suppose? 
 
86 THE LAND 
 
 SALLY 
 
 Ay, he'll be going to-night. 
 
 {She gathers the chopped cabbage into her apron, and 
 goes to the door) 
 SALLY {at the door) 
 Cornelius. 
 
 [^Cornelius puts down the paper, and goes to the door. 
 Sally goes out. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Cornelius! 
 
 [^Cornelius goes to Martin. 
 SALLY {outside) 
 
 Cornelius, give me a hand with this. 
 \_Cornelius turns again. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Cornelius, I want to speak to you. 
 [^Cornelius goes to him. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 There is something on my mind, Cornelius. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 What is it, father.? 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 It's about our Ellen. Father Bartley gave me news 
 for her. "I've heard of a school that'll suit Ellen," 
 says he. "It's in the County Leitrim." 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 If it was in Dublin itself, Ellen is qualified to take it 
 on. And won't it be grand to have one of our family 
 teaching in a school? 
 MARTIN DOURAS {with a sigh) 
 
 I wouldn't stand in her way, Cornelius; I wouldn't 
 stand in her way. But won't it be a poor thing for 
 an old man like me to have no one to discourse with 
 
THE LAND 87 
 
 in the long evenings? For when I'm talking with 
 you, Cornelius, I feel like a boy who lends back all 
 the marbles he's won, and plays again, just for the 
 sake of the game. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 We were in dread of Ellen going to America at one 
 time, and then she went in for the school. Now Matt 
 Cosgar may keep her from the school. Maybe we 
 won't have to go further than this house to see Ellen. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 I'm hoping it'll be like that; but I'm in dread that 
 Murtagh Cosgar will never agree to it. He's a hard 
 man to deal with. Still Murtagh and myself will be 
 on the long road to-night, and we might talk of it. 
 I'm afeard of Ellen going. 
 CORNELIUS (at the door) 
 
 It's herself that's coming here, father. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Maybe she has heard the news and is coming to tell us. 
 [_Ellen comes in. She has a shawl over her head which 
 she lays aside. She is about twenty-five, slightly built, 
 nervous, emotional. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Is it only ourselves that's here? 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Only ourselves. Did you get any news to bring you 
 over, Ellen? 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 No news. It was the shine of the day that brought 
 me out; and I was thinking, too, of the girls that 
 are going to America in the morning, and that made 
 me restless. 
 [_Martin and Cornelius look significantly at each other. 
 
88 THE LAND 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 And did you see Matt, Ellen? 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 He was in the field and I coming up; but I did not 
 wait for him, as I don't want people to see us together. 
 (Restlessly) I don't know how I can come into this 
 house, for it's always like Murtagh Cosgar. There's 
 nothing of Matt in it at all. If Matt would come 
 away. There are little labourers' houses by the side 
 of the road. Many's the farmer's son became a 
 labourer for the sake of a woman he cared for! 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 And are you not thinking about the school at all, 
 Ellen? 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 I'll hear about it some time, I suppose. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 You're right to take it that way, Ellen. School 
 doesn't mean scholarship now. Many's the time 
 I'm telling Cornelius that a man farming the land, 
 with a few books on his shelf and a few books in his 
 head, has more of the scholar's life about him than 
 the young fellows who do be teaching in schools and 
 teaching in colleges. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 That's all very well, father. School and scholarship 
 isn't the one. But think of the word " Constantinople ! " 
 I could leave off herding and digging every time I 
 think on that word! 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Ah, it's a great word. A word like that would make 
 you think for days. And there are many words like 
 that. 
 
THE LAND 89 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 It's not SO much the long words that we've to learn 
 and teach now. When will you be home, father? 
 Will Cornelius be with you? 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Ellen, I have news for you. There is a school in 
 Leitrim that Father Bartley can let you have, 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 In Leitrim! Did you tell Matt about it? 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 I did not, 
 
 [^Sally is heard calling "Cornelius.'^ Cornelius goes to 
 
 the door. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 Here's Matt now. The benefit of the day to you, Matt. 
 [^He stands aside to let Matt enter. Matt Cosgar is a 
 young peasant of about twenty-eight. He is handsome 
 and well-built. He is dressed in a trousers, shirt, and 
 coat, and has a felt hat on. Cornelius goes out. 
 MATT (going to Ellen) 
 You're welcome, Ellen. Good morrow, Martin, It's 
 a great day for the purchase, Martin, 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 A great day, indeed, thank God, 
 
 MATT 
 
 Ah, it's a great thing to feel the ownership of the land, 
 Martin, 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 I don't doubt but it is, 
 
 MATT 
 
 Look at the young apple-trees, Ellen. Walking up this 
 morning, I felt as glad of them as a young man would 
 be glad of the sweetheart he saw coming towards him. 
 
90 THE LAND 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Ay, there's great gladness and shine in the day. 
 
 MATT 
 
 It seems to trouble you. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 It does trouble me. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Why? 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Everything seems to be saying, "There's something 
 here, there's something going." 
 
 MATT 
 
 Ay, a day like this often makes you feel that way. 
 It's a great day for the purchase though. How many 
 years ought we to offer, Ellen? 
 l^Martin goes out. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Twenty years, I suppose — (suddenly) Matt ! 
 
 MATT 
 
 What is it, Ellen? 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 I have got an offer of a school in the County Leitrim. 
 
 MATT 
 
 I wish they'd wait, Ellen. I wish they'd wait till I 
 had something to offer you. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 I'm a long time waiting here, Matt. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Sure we're both young. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 This is summer now. There will be autumn in a 
 month or two. The year will have gone by without 
 bringing me anything. 
 
THE LAND 91 
 
 MATT 
 
 He'll be letting me have my own way soon, my father 
 will. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Murtagh Cosgar never let a child of his have their 
 own way. 
 
 MATT 
 
 When the land's bought out, he'll be easier to deal 
 with. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 When he owns the land, he'll never let a son of his 
 marry a girl without land or fortune. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Ellen, Ellen, I'd lose house and land for you. Sure 
 you know that, Ellen. My brothers and sisters took 
 their freedom. They went from this house and away 
 to the ends of the world. Maybe I don't differ from 
 them so much. But I've put my work into the land, 
 and I'm beginning to know the land. I won't lose it, 
 Ellen. Neither will I lose you. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 O Matt, what's the land after all? Do you ever think 
 of America? The streets, the shops, the throngs? 
 
 MATT 
 
 The land is better than that when you come to know 
 it, Ellen. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 May be it is. 
 
 MATT 
 
 I've set my heart on a new house. Ay and he'll build 
 one for us when he knows my mind. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Do you think he'd build a new house for us, Matt? 
 
92 THE LAND 
 
 I could settle down if we were by ourselves. Maybe 
 it's true that there are things stirring and we could 
 begin a new life, even here. 
 
 MATT 
 
 We can, Ellen, we can. Hush! father's without. 
 [^Martin Douras and Murtagh Cosgar are heard ex- 
 changing 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, felt hat. He goes towards 
 Ellen. 
 
 MURTAGH 
 
 Good morrow to you. (Turning to Matt) When I 
 get speaking to that Sally again, she'll remember what 
 I say. Giving cabbage to the pigs, and all the bad 
 potatoes in the house. And I had to get up in the 
 clouds of the night to turn the cows out of the young 
 meadow. No thought, no care about me. Let you 
 take the harness outside and put a thong where 
 there's a strain in it. 
 
 \^Murtagh goes to the fire. Matt goes to the harness-rack. 
 Martin Douras and Ellen are at the door. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Ellen, I'll have news for you when I see you again. 
 I've made up my mind to that. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Are you going to the fair, father? 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Ay, with Murtagh. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 God be with you, father. {She goes out) 
 
THE LAND 93 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 What purchase are you thinking of offering, Murtagh? 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Twenty years. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 It's fair enough. Oh, it's a great day for the country, 
 no matter what our own troubles may be. 
 [_MaU has taken down the harness. He takes some of it 
 up and goes out to yard. 
 MURTAGH COSGAR (with some contempt) 
 
 It's a pity you haven't a share in the day after all. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Ay, it's a pity indeed. 
 [^Murtagh goes to the door. 
 MURTAGH COSGAR (with Suppressed enthusiasm) 
 From this day out we're planted in the soil. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Ay, we're planted in the soil. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 God, it's a great day. 
 {^Cornelius comes back. '. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 This is a memorial occasion, Murtagh Cosgar, and I 
 wish you the felicitations of it. I met the delegates 
 and I coming in, and I put myself at the head of them. 
 It's the day of the redemption, Murtagh Cosgar. 
 \_Murtagh, without speaking, goes up to the room left. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 He's gone up to get the papers. Father, we must 
 give the men understanding for this business. They 
 must demand the mineral rights. Here they are. 
 Men of Ballykillduff, I greet your entrance. 
 '[^Six men enter discussing. 
 
94 THE LAND 
 
 FIRST MAN 
 
 We'll leave it to Murtagh Cosgar. Murtagh Cosgar 
 isn't a grazier or a shopkeeper. 
 
 SECOND MAN 
 
 It's the graziers and shopkeepers that are putting a 
 business head on this. 
 
 THIRD MAN 
 
 If we're all on the one offer, we can settle it at the 
 lawyer's. 
 
 FOURTH MAN 
 
 Sure it's settled for twenty years on the first-term 
 rents. 
 
 FIFTH MAN 
 
 There are some here that would let it go as high as 
 twenty-three. 
 
 SIXTH MAN 
 
 What does Murtagh Cosgar say? 
 
 SOME OF THE MEN 
 
 We'll take the word from him. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 He mentioned twenty years. 
 
 SECOND MAN 
 
 Not as a limit, surely? 
 
 OTHER MEN 
 
 We're not for any higher offer. 
 
 SECOND MAN 
 
 Well, men, this is all I have to say. If you can get 
 it for twenty, take it, and my blessing with it. But 
 I want to be dealing with the Government, and not 
 with landlords and agents. To have a straight bar- 
 gain between myself and the Government, I'd put it 
 up to twenty-three, ay, up to twenty-five years' 
 purchase. 
 
THE LAND 95 
 
 THIRD MAN 
 
 More power to you, Councillor. There's some sense 
 in that. 
 
 SIXTH MAN 
 
 I'm with the Councillor. 
 
 FIRST MAN 
 
 It's all very well for graziers and shopkeepers to 
 talk, but what about the small farmer? 
 
 FOURTH MAN 
 
 The small farmer. That's the man that goes under. 
 FIFTH MAN (knocMng at the table) 
 Murtagh Cosgar! Murtagh Cosgar! 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 I tell you, men, that Murtagh Cosgar is in agreement 
 with myself. Twenty years, I say, first term, no 
 more. Let my father speak. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 There's a great deal to be said on both sides, men. 
 
 FIRST MAN 
 
 Here's Murtagh now. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Twenty years first term, that's what I agreed to. 
 
 SECOND MAN 
 
 And if they don't rise to that, Murtagh? 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Let them wait. We can wait. I won't be going with 
 you, men. I had a few words with the agent about 
 the turbary this morning, and maybe you're better 
 without me. 
 
 FIRST MAN 
 
 All right, Murtagh. We can wait. 
 
 FOURTH MAN 
 
 We know our own power now. 
 
96 THE LAND 
 
 FIFTH MAN 
 
 Come on, men. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 If they don't rise to it, bide a while. We can make a 
 new offer. 
 
 SECOND MAN 
 
 We want to be settled by the Fall. 
 
 THIRD MAN 
 
 The Councillor is right. We must be settled by the 
 Fall. 
 
 SIXTH MAN 
 
 A man who's a farmer only has little sense for a 
 business like this. 
 
 SECOND MAN 
 
 We'll make the offer, Murtagh Cosgar, and bide a 
 while. But we must be settled this side of the Fall. 
 We'll offer twenty years first term. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Do, and God speed you. 
 CORNELIUS {to the men going out) 
 
 I told you Murtagh Cosgar and myself are on the 
 
 one offer. And Murtagh is right again when he 
 
 says that you can bide your time. But make sure 
 
 of the mineral rights, men; make sure of the mineral 
 
 rights. 
 
 [The men go out; Cornelius follows them. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR {with ITOny) 
 
 Musha, but that's a well-discoursed lad. It must be 
 great to hear the two of you at it. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 God be good to Cornelius. There's little of the world's 
 harm in the boy. 
 
THE LAND 97 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 He and my Sally would make a great match of it. 
 She's a bright one, too. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Murtagh Cosgar, have you no feeling for your own 
 flesh and blood? 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Too much feeling, maybe. {He stands at the door in 
 silence. With sudden enthusiasm) Ah, but that's the 
 sight to fill one's heart. Lands ploughed and spread. 
 And all our own; all our own. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 All our own, ay. But we made a hard fight for them. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Ay. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Them that come after us will never see them as we're 
 seeing them now. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR {turning round) 
 
 Them that come after us. Isn't that a great thought, 
 Martin Douras? and isn't it a great thing that we're 
 able to pass this land on to them, and it redeemed 
 for ever? Ay, and their manhood spared the shame 
 that our manhood knew. Standing in the rain with 
 our hats off to let a landlord — ay, or a landlord's 
 dog-boy — pass the way ! 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS {moumfully) 
 
 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 {stemly) 
 Some of them are no loss. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Ten of your own children went, Murtagh Cosgar. 
 
98 THE LAND 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 I never think of them. When they went from my 
 control, they went from me altogether. There's the 
 more for Matt. 
 MURTiN DOURAs {moistening his mouth, and beginning 
 very nervously) Ay, Matt. Matt's a good lad. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 There's little fear of him leaving now. 
 MARTIN DOURAS (nervously) 
 
 Maybe, maybe. But, mind you, Murtagh Cosgar, 
 there are things — little things, mind you. Least, 
 ways, what we call little things. And, after all, who 
 are we to judge whether a thing — 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Is there anything on your mind, Martin Douras? 
 MARTIN DOURAS (hurriedly) 
 
 No; oh, no. I was thinking — I was thinking, may- 
 be you'd give me a lift towards Arvach, if you'd be 
 going that way this night. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Ay, why not? 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 And we could talk about the land, and about Matt, 
 too. Wouldn't it be a heart-break if any of our chil- 
 dren went — because of a thing we might — 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR (fiercely) 
 
 What have you to say about Matt? 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS (stammering) 
 
 Nothing except in a — in what you might call a 
 general way. There's many a young man left house 
 and land for the sake of some woman, Murtagh Cosgar. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 There's many a fool did it. 
 
THE LAND 99 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS {going to door) 
 
 Ay, maybe; maybe. I'll be going now, Murtagh. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Stop! {clutching him) You know about Matt. 
 What woman is he thinking of? 
 MARTIN DOURAS {frightened) 
 
 We'll talk about it again, Murtagh. I said I'd be 
 back. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 We'll talk about it now. Who is she.^* What name 
 has she? 
 MARTIN DOURAS {breaking from him and speaking with 
 sudden dignity) 
 
 It's a good name, Murtagh Cosgar; it's my own 
 name. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Your daughter ! Ellen ! You're — 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Ay, a good name, and a good girl. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 And do you think a son of mine would marry a daugh- 
 ter of yours? 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 What great difference is between us, after all? 
 MURTAGH COSGAR {fiercely) 
 
 The daughter of a man who'd be sitting over his fire 
 reading his paper, and the clouds above his potatoes, 
 and the cows trampling his oats. {Martin is beaten 
 down) Do you know me at all, Martin Douras? I 
 came out of a little house by the roadway and built 
 my house on a hill. I had many children. Coming 
 home in the long evenings, or kneeling still when the 
 prayers would be over, I'd have my dreams. A son 
 
100 THE LAND 
 
 in Aughnalee, a son in Ballybrian, a son in Dunmore, 
 a son of mine with a shop, a son of mine saying Mass 
 in Killnalee. And I have a living name — a name in 
 flesh and blood. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 God help you, Murtagh Cosgar. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 But I've a son still. It's not your daughter he'll be 
 marrying. {He strides to the door and calls Matt) 
 MARTIN DOURAS (going to him) 
 
 Murtagh Cosgar — for God's sake — we're both old 
 men, Murtagh Cosgar. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 You've read many stories, Martin Douras, and you 
 know many endings. You'll see an ending now, and 
 it will be a strong ending, and a sudden ending. 
 \^Matt comes in. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 You're wanted here. 
 
 MATT 
 
 I heard you call, (He sits on table) So they're 
 sticking to the twenty years. 
 MARTIN DOURAS (eagerly) 
 
 Twenty years, Matt, and they'll get it for twenty. 
 O, it's a great day for you both ! Father and son, you 
 come into a single inheritance. What the father wins 
 the son wields, 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 What the father wins, the son wastes. 
 
 MATT 
 
 What's the talk of father and son? 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 They're the one flesh and blood. There's no more 
 
THE LAND 101 
 
 strife between them than between the right hand and 
 the left hand. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR {tO Matt) 
 
 We were talking about you. We were fixing a match 
 for you. 
 
 MATT (startled, looking at Martin Douras) 
 Fixing a match for me? {He rises) 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Ay, Matt. Don't you think it's time to be making a 
 
 match for you? 
 MATT {sullenly, going to the door) 
 
 Maybe it is. When you have chosen the woman, 
 
 call. I'll be without. 
 MURTAGH COSGAR (goiug to him) 
 
 We haven't chosen yet. But it won't be Martin 
 
 Douras' daughter, anyhow. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Stop. You drove all your living children away, 
 except Sally and myself. You think Sally and myself 
 are the one sort. 
 MURTAGH COSGAR {tauntingly) 
 
 Martin's daughter, Corney's sister. That's the girl 
 for you! 
 
 MATT 
 
 We're not the one sort, I tell you. Martin Douras, 
 isn't he a foolish old man that would drive all his 
 children from him? What would his twenty years' 
 purchase be to him then? 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 It wasn't for my children I worked. No, no; thank 
 God; it wasn't for my children I worked. Go, if 
 you will. I can be alone. 
 
102 THE LAND 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Murtagh, Murtagh, sure you know you can't be 
 alone. We're two old men, Murtagh. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 He daren't go. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Because I'm the last of them he thinks he can dare 
 me like that. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 There was more of my blood in the others. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Do you say that? 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Don't say it again. For God's sake, don't say it 
 again, Murtagh. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 1 do say it again. Them who dared to go had more 
 of my blood in them! 
 
 MATT 
 
 Ah, you have put me to it now, and I'm glad, glad. 
 A little house, a bit of land. Do you think they could 
 keep me here? 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR {to Martin Douras) 
 
 It's his own way he wants. I never had my own way. 
 (To Matt) You're my last son. You're too young to 
 know the hardship there was in rearing you. 
 
 MATT {exultantly) 
 
 Your last son; that won't keep me here. I'm the 
 last of my name, but that won't keep me here. I 
 leave you your lands, your twenty years' purchase. 
 Murtagh Cosgar, Murtagh Cosgar! isn't that a great 
 name, Martin Douras — a name that's well planted. 
 
THE LAND 103 
 
 a name for generations? Isn't he a lucky man that 
 has a name for generations? {He goes out) 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 He can't go. How could he go and he the last of the 
 name. Close the door, I say. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 He'll go to Ellen, surely. We'll lose both of them. 
 Murtagh Cosgar, God comfort you and me. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Ellen; who's Ellen? Ay, that daughter of yours. 
 Close the door, I say. 
 
 {He sits down at fireplace. Martin Douras closes door 
 and goes to him. 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
ACT II 
 
 Interior of Martin Douras\ The entrance is at back 
 left. There is a dresser against wall back; a table down 
 from dresser; room doors right and left. The fireplace 
 is below the room door right; there are stools and chairs 
 about it. There is a little bookcase left of the dresser, 
 and a mirror beside it. There are patriotic and religious 
 pictures on the wall. There are cups and saucers on table, 
 and a teapot beside fire. It is afternoon still. Ellen Dour as 
 is near the fire reading. Cornelius comes in slowly. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 I left the men down the road a bit. We ought to take 
 great pride out of this day, Ellen. Father did more 
 than any of them to bring it about. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 He suffered more than any of them. And it's little 
 we'll get out of the day. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 It's a great thing to have prophesied it, even. We'll 
 be here to see a great change. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 There will be no change to make things better! 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 Will you be taking that school, Ellen? 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 I'll wait a while. 
 
 {Sally coming in; she is hurried. 
 
THE LAND 105 
 
 SALLY (breathlessly) 
 
 Oh, God save you, Cornelius. Tell me, is my father 
 gone? I dread going back and he there! It was all 
 over that baste of a sow that has kept me slaving all 
 through the spring till I don't know whether greens 
 or potatoes is the fittest for her! 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 He didn't go, Sally. I went down a bit of the road 
 myseM with the men. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 Oh, God help me! And I'll have to be going back to 
 boil meal for her now. How are you, Ellen. {She goes 
 to Ellen) 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Sit down for a while, Sally; it's a long time since I 
 was speaking to you. 
 [_Sally sits down beside Ellen. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 I'll leave this paper where they won't be looking for 
 pipe-lights. There are things in that paper I'd like 
 to be saying. (He takes a newspaper out of his pocket 
 and goes to room right) 
 
 ELLEN (to Sally, who has been watching Cornelius) 
 
 Tell me, Sally, are they always that busy in your 
 house? Is your father as harsh as they say? 
 
 SALLY 
 
 Father 'ud keep us all working. He's a powerful 
 great man. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Matt will be bringing a wife into the house soon from 
 all I hear. How would your father treat her? 
 
106 THE LAND 
 
 SALLY 
 
 Oh, he'd have his way, and she'd have her way, I 
 suppose. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 And do you think your father will let him marry? 
 
 SALLY 
 
 Sure he must if the boy likes. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 What would he say if Matt married a girl without a 
 fortune? 
 
 SALLY 
 
 In my mother's country there are lots of girls with 
 fortunes that Matt could have. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Supposing he wanted a girl that had no fortune? 
 
 SALLY 
 
 Oh, I suppose father would give in in the end. It 
 wouldn't be clay against flint when Matt and father 
 would be to it. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 You're a good girl, Sally. If I was Matt's wife, do 
 you think you'd be fond of me? 
 
 SALLY 
 
 I'd like you as well as another, Ellen. 
 [^Cornelius comes down from room. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 I suppose they'll be here soon. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 I have tea ready for them. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 Who's coming at all? 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 Some of the boys and girls that are for America. 
 
THE LAND 107 
 
 They are going to Gilroy's to-night, and are leaving 
 from that in the morning. They are coming in to see 
 Ellen on their way down. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 There are a good many going this flight. The land 
 never troubles them in America, and they can wear 
 fine clothes, and be as free as the larks over the bogs. 
 It's a wonder you never thought of going, Ellen. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Father wouldn't like me to be far from him, and so 
 I went in for the school instead. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 And now you've got a fine boy like Matt. It was 
 lucky for you to be staying here. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Hush, Sally. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 Oh, I knew all about it before you talked to me at 
 
 all. Matt always goes to the place where he thinks 
 
 you'd be. 
 ELLEN (rising) 
 
 I'll be in the room when the girls come, Cornelius. 
 
 l^She goes into room left. 
 SALLY (going to Cornelius) 
 
 God help us, but she's the silent creature. Isn't it a 
 
 wonder she's not filled with talk of him after seeing 
 
 him to-day? But Ellen's right. We shouldn't be 
 
 talking about men, nor thinking about them either; 
 
 and that's the way to keep them on our hands on the 
 
 long run. I'll be going myself. 
 
 [^She goes towards door. 
 CORNELIUS (going to her) 
 
 Don't be minding Ellen at all, Sally. 
 
108 THE LAND 
 
 SALLY 
 
 Well, as high as she is, and as mighty as she is, she 
 came into his own house to see Matt. God between 
 us and harm, Cornelius, maybe they'll be saying I 
 came into your house to see you. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 Who'll know you came at all? And what isn't seen 
 won't be spoken of. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 Would you like me to stay, Cornelius? 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 Ay, I would. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 Divil mind the sow. 
 [They sit down together. 
 SALLY (after a pause) 
 
 Would you Uke me to knit you a pair of socks, Cor- 
 nelius? 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 Oh, I would, Sally; I'd love to wear them. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 I'll knit them. We'll be getting rid of the sow to- 
 night, maybe, and I'll have time after that. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 And you come along the road when I'm herding. I 
 don't want to be going near your father's house. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 O Cornelius, it won't be lucky for us when father hears 
 about Ellen and Matt. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 That's true. No man sees his house afire but looks 
 to his rick. 
 
THE LAND 109 
 
 SALLY 
 
 Come down a bit of the road with me, Cornehus. 
 The sow will be grunting and grunting, reminding 
 father that I'm away. Och, a minute ago I was as 
 contented as if there was no land or pigs, or harsh 
 words to trouble one. {She goes to the door) The 
 boys and girls for America are coming here. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 Give me your hands to hold, Sally. (She gives him 
 her hands) We are as young as any of them after all. 
 \They hold each other'' s hands, then stand apart. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 It's a fine time for them to be going when the leaves 
 are opening on the trees. 
 
 \_Three hoys and three girls enter. They are dressed for 
 going away. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 God save you, girls. Good-bye, Cornelius. I'll have 
 to run like a redshank. 
 
 \_Sally goes out. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 I'll call Ellen down to you. {He goes to the room door 
 and calls) I'm going herding myself. Herding is 
 pleasant when you have thoughts with you. 
 £He takes up the rod and goes out. The girls begin 
 whispering, then chattering. 
 
 FIRST GIRL 
 
 Sure I know. Every night I'm dreaming of the 
 sea and the great towns. Streets and streets of 
 houses and every street as crowded as the road 
 outside the chapel when the people do be coming 
 from Mass. 
 
110 THE LAND 
 
 FIEST BOY 
 
 I could watch the crowd in the street; I would think 
 it better than any sight I ever knew. 
 
 SECOND GIRL 
 
 And the shops and the great houses. 
 
 SECOND BOY 
 
 There's no stir here. There's no fine clothes, nor 
 fine manners, nor fine things to be seen. 
 
 THIRD BOY 
 
 There's no money. One could never get a shilling 
 together here. In America there's money to have and 
 to spend and to send home. 
 
 THIRD GIRL 
 
 Every girl gets married in America. 
 l^Ellen comes down. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 I'm glad you came. I have tea ready for you. I 
 
 can't go to Gilroy's to-night. 
 
 [_Some come to the table and some remain near the door. 
 
 A GIRL (at table, to Ellen) 
 
 They say that a peat fire like that will seem very 
 strange to us after America. Bridget wondered at it 
 when she came back. "Do civilized people really 
 cook at the like of them?" said she. 
 
 A BOY 
 
 It's the little houses with only three rooms in them 
 that will seem strange. I'm beginning to wonder 
 myself at their thatch and their mud walls. 
 
 ANOTHER GIRL 
 
 Houses in bogs and fields. It was a heart-break trying 
 to keep them as we'd like to keep them. 
 
THE LAND 111 
 
 A GIRL, (at door) 
 
 Ah, but I'll never forget Gortan and the little road 
 to Aughnalee. 
 
 ANOTHER GIRL 
 
 I think I'll be lonesome for a long time. I'll be think- 
 ing on my brothers and sisters. I nursed and minded 
 all the little ones. 
 
 FIRST BOY 
 
 A girl like you, Ellen, is foolish to be staying here. 
 
 SECOND BOY 
 
 She'll be coming in the fall. We'll be glad to see you, 
 Ellen. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 I have no friends in America. 
 
 FIRST GIRL 
 
 I have no friends there, either. But I'll get on. You 
 could get on better than any of us, Ellen. 
 
 SECOND GIRL 
 
 She's waiting for her school. It will be a little place 
 by the side of a bog. 
 
 THIRD GIRL (going to Ellen) 
 
 There would be little change in that. And isn't it a 
 life altogether different from this life that we have 
 been longing for? To be doing other work, and to be 
 meeting strange people. And instead of bare roads 
 and market-towns, to be seeing streets, and crowds, 
 and theaters. 
 
 ELLEN {jpassionately) 
 
 O what do you know about streets and theaters? You 
 have only heard of them. They are finer than any- 
 thing you could say. They are finer than anything 
 you could think of, after a story, when you'd be 
 young. 
 
m THE LAND 
 
 A GIRL 
 
 You'll be going after all, Ellen. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 I won't be going. 
 
 FIRST GIRL 
 
 Well, maybe you'll be down at Gilroy's. We must 
 
 go now. 
 
 \^The girls go to the door. Ellen goes with them. 
 
 ONE OF THE BOYS 
 
 Phil said that an egg was all he could touch while 
 he was on the sea. 
 
 SECOND BOY 
 
 God help us, if that was all Phil could take. 
 
 THIRD BOY 
 
 Light your pipes now, and we'll go. 
 \^Ellen has parted with the girls. The boys light their 
 pipes at fire. They go to door, and shake hands with 
 Ellen. The boys go out. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Theaters! What do they know of theaters.'' And it's 
 
 their like will be enjoying them. 
 
 [^Sally comes back. She is more hurried than before. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 Ellen! Ellen! I have wonders to tell. Where is 
 Cornelius, at all? He's never here when you have 
 wonders to tell. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 What have you to tell? 
 
 SALLY 
 
 Oh, I don't know how I'll get it all out! Matt and 
 father had an odious falling out, and it was about 
 you. And Matt's going to America; and he's to 
 
THE LAND 113 
 
 bring you with him. And Cornelius was saying that 
 if father found out about yourself and Matt — 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Sally, Sally, take breath and tell it. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 Matt is going to America, like the others, and he's 
 taking you with him. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Sally, Sally, is it the truth you're telling? 
 
 SALLY 
 
 It is the truth. Honest as day, it is the truth. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 And I thought I'd be content with a new house. Now 
 we can go away together. I can see what I longed to 
 see. I have a chance of knowing what is in me. 
 (She takes Sally's hands) It's great news you've 
 brought me. No one ever brought me such news 
 before. Take this little cross. You won't have a 
 chance of getting fond of me after all. (She wears a 
 cross at her throat; she breaks the string, and gives it to 
 Sally) 
 
 SALLY 
 
 I don't know why I was so fervent to tell you. There's 
 the stool before me that myself and Cornelius were 
 sitting on, and he saying — (She goes to the door) 
 Here's Matt! Now we'll hear all about it. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 So soon; so soon. (She goes to the mirror. After a 
 pause, turning to Sally) Go down the road a bit, 
 when he comes in. Sally, you have a simple mind; 
 you might be saying a prayer that it will be for the 
 best. 
 
114 THE LAND 
 
 SALLY (going to the door muttering) 
 
 Go down the road a bit! 'Deed and I will not till I 
 
 know the whole ins and outs of it. Sure I'm as much 
 
 concerned in it as herself! "No man sees his house 
 
 afire but watches his rick," he was saying. Ah, 
 
 there's few of them could think of as fine a thing as 
 
 that. 
 
 l^Matt comes in. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Well, Sally, were you home lately? 
 
 SALLY 
 
 I was — leastways as far as the door. Father and 
 oul' Martin were discoorsing. 
 
 MATT 
 
 I've given them something to discoorse about. May- 
 be you'll be treated better from this day, Sally. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 Matt, I'm sorry. 
 [_She goes out. 
 
 MATT (going to Ellen) 
 
 It happened at last, Ellen; the height of the quarrel 
 came. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 It was bound to come. I knew it would come, Matt. 
 
 MATT 
 
 He was a foolish man to put shame on me after all 
 
 1 did for the land. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 You had too much thought for the land. 
 
 MATT 
 
 I had in troth. The others went when there was less 
 to be done. They could not stand him. Even the 
 girls stole away. 
 
THE LAND 115 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 There was the high spirit in the whole of you. 
 
 MATT 
 
 I showed it to him. "Stop," said I; "no more, or I 
 fling lands and house and everything aside." 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 You said that. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Ay. "Your other children went for less," said I; 
 "do you think there's no blood in me at all?" 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 What happened then.f* 
 
 MATT 
 
 "I'm your last son," I said; "keep your land and 
 your twenty years' purchase. I'm with the others; 
 and it's poor your land will leave you, and you with- 
 out a son to bring down your name. A bit of land, a 
 house," said I; "do you think these will keep me 
 here?" 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 I knew they could not keep you here, Matt. You 
 have broken from them at last; and now the world 
 is before us. Think of all that is before us — the 
 sea, and the ships, the strange life, and the great 
 cities. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Ay — there before us — if we like. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Surely we like. 
 
 MATT 
 
 I was always shy of crowds. I'm simple, after all, 
 Ellen, and have no thought beyond the land. 
 
116 THE LAND 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 You said that house and land could not keep you. 
 You told him you were going as your brothers went. 
 
 MATT 
 
 And I felt I was going. I frightened him. He'll be 
 glad to see me back. It will be long before he treats 
 me that way again. 
 ELLEN (suddenly) 
 Matt! 
 
 MATT 
 
 What is it, Ellen? 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 I don't know — I was upset — thinking of the quarrel 
 {putting her hands on his shoulders) My poor Matt. 
 It was about me you quarrelled. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Ay, he spoke against you. I couldn't put up with 
 that. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 He does not know your high spirit. He does not 
 know your strength. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Ellen, it's no shame for a man to have harsh words 
 said to him when it's about a woman like you. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Let nothing come between us now. I saw you in the 
 winter making drains and ditches, and it wet. It's 
 a poor story, the life of a man on the land. 
 
 MATT 
 
 I had too much thought for the land. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 You had. Have thought for me now. There is no 
 one in fair or market but would notice me, I was 
 
THE LAND 117 
 
 never a favourite. I lived to myself. I did not give 
 my love about. You have never offered me any- 
 thing. In the song a man offers towns to his sweet- 
 heart. You can offer me the sights of great towns, 
 and the fine manners, and the fine life. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Ellen! {He draws a little away) It's not me that 
 could offer the like of that. I never had anything to 
 my hand but a spade. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Your brothers — think of them. 
 
 MATT 
 
 They all left some one behind them. I am the last 
 of my name. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Why should that keep you back? 
 
 MATT 
 
 His name is something to a man. Could you hear of 
 your own name melting away without unease. ^^ And 
 you are a woman. A man feels it more. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 I do not understand men. Will you go back to your 
 father's house after he shaming you out of it.'* 
 
 MATT 
 
 He'll be glad to see me back. He'll never cast it up 
 to me that I went. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Matt, your father said words against me. Will you 
 go to him and take his hand after that? 
 
 MATT 
 
 It was little he said against you. It was against your 
 father he spoke. 
 
118 THE LAND 
 
 ELLEN (sinking down on a chair, and putting hands before 
 
 her face) 
 
 My God! After all my waiting, you talk like that. 
 MATT (going to her) 
 
 Ellen, Ellen, tell me what I can do for you? There's 
 
 land and houses to be had here. Father will let me 
 
 have my own way after this. 
 ELLEN (rising, with anger) 
 
 What does it matter to me whether he lets you have 
 
 your own way or not? Do you think I could go into 
 
 a farmer's house? 
 
 MATT 
 
 Ellen! 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 It's a bad hand I'd make of a farmer's house. I'm 
 not the sort to be in one. I'm not like Sally. 
 
 MATT (getting angry) 
 
 Don't be talking that way, Ellen Douras. 
 
 ELLEN (with great vehemence) 
 
 I must be talking like this. If you take me, you will 
 have to go from your father's house. I always knew 
 it. You ought to know it now, Matt Cosgar. 
 
 MATT 
 
 You didn't know it always. And you have let some 
 one come between us when you talk like that. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 I'm not one to be listening to what people say about 
 you. Nor do I be talking in the markets about you. 
 
 MATT 
 
 I suppose not. You wouldn't have people think you 
 gave any thought to me; I'm not good enough for 
 you. The people you know are better. 
 
THE LAND 119 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 You are foolish to be talking like that. You are 
 foolish, I say. 
 
 MATT 
 
 I know I am foolish. Fit only to be working in drains 
 and ditches in the winter. That's what you think. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Maybe it is. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Ellen Douras ! Ellen Douras ! A farmer's roof will be 
 high enough for you some day. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 May I never see the day. Go back, go back. Make 
 it up with your father. Your father will be glad of a 
 labourer. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Maybe you won't be glad if I go back; thinking on 
 what you've said. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 I said too much. We don't know each other at all. 
 Go back. You have made your choice. 
 [^She goes up to room left. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Very well, then. God above, am I to be treated 
 everywhere like a heifer strayed into a patch of oats? 
 Neither man nor woman will make me put up with 
 this any longer. {Going to door) When Ellen Douras 
 wants me, she knows the place to send to. (He stands 
 at door. There is no sound from room. Going back he 
 speaks loudly) I'll be waiting two days or three days 
 to hear from Ellen Douras. 
 
 \^There is no sound. Matt goes out. The room door is 
 thrown open, and Ellen comes down. 
 
120 THE LAND 
 
 ELLEN (furiously) 
 
 Two days or three days he'll wait for me. As if I'd 
 go into Murtagh Cosgar's house. As if I'd go into 
 any farmer's house. As if I'd get married at all, and 
 the world before me. Two days or three days you'll 
 wait. Maybe it's lonesome, weary years you'll be 
 waiting. Matt Cosgar. 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
ACT III 
 
 Interior of Murtagh Cosgar's. It is towards sunset. 
 Murtagh Cosgar is standing before the door looking out. 
 Martin Douras is sitting at the fire in an armchair. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 It's getting late, Murtagh Cosgar. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Ay, it's getting late. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 It's time for me to be going home. I should be seeing 
 Ellen. {He rises) 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Stay where you are. ( Turning round) We're two old 
 men, as you say. We should keep each other's com- 
 pany for a bit. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 I should be going home to see Ellen. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 If she's going, you can't stay her. Let you keep here. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 She'll be wondering what happened to me. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Divil a bit it will trouble her. You're going to the 
 fair anyway? 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 I have no heart to be going into a fair. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 It's myself used to have the great heart. Driving 
 
122 THE LAND 
 
 in on my own side-car, and looking down on the 
 crowd of them. It's twenty years since I took a sup 
 of drink. Oh, we'll have drinking to-morrow that 
 will soften the oul' skin of you. You'll be singing songs 
 about the Trojans to charm every baste in the fair. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 We're both old men, Murtagh Cosgar. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 And is there any reason in your scholarship why oul' 
 men should be dry men? Answer me that! 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 I won't answer you at all, Murtagh Cosgar. There's 
 no use in talking to you. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Put it down on a piece of paper that oul' men should 
 have light hearts when their care is gone from them. 
 They should be like — 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 There's nothing in the world like men with their 
 rearing gone from them, and they old. 
 [^Sally comes to the door. She enters stealthily. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Ha, here's one of the clutch home. Well, did you see 
 that brother of yours? 
 
 SALLY 
 
 I did. He'll be home soon, father. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 What's that you say? Were you talking to him? 
 Did he say he'd be home? 
 
 SALLY 
 
 I heard him say it, father. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 God bless you for the news, Sally. 
 
THE LAND 123 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAB 
 
 How could he go and he the last of them? Sure it 
 would be against nature. Where did you see him, 
 Sally? 
 
 SALLY 
 
 At Martin Douras's, father. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 It's that Ellen Douras that's putting him up to all 
 this. Don't you be said by her, Sally. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 No, father. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 You're a good girl, and if j you haven't wit, you have 
 sense. He'll be home soon, did you say? 
 
 SALLY 
 
 He was coming home. He went round the long way, 
 I'm thinking. Ellen Douras was vexed with him, 
 father. She isn't going either. Matt says, but I'm 
 thinking that you might as well try to keep a corn- 
 crake in the meadow for a whole winter, as to try to 
 keep Ellen Douras in Aughnalee. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Make the place tidy for him to come into. He'll have 
 no harsh words from me. {He goes up to the room) 
 
 SALLY 
 
 Father's surely getting ould. 
 MARTIN DOURAS (sitting down) 
 
 He's gone up to rest himself, God help him. Sally, 
 a stor, I'm that fluttered, I dread going into my own 
 house. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 I'll get ready now, and let you have a good supper 
 before you go to the fair. 
 
124 THE LAND 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Sit down near me, and let me hear everything, Sally. 
 Was it Matt that told you, or were you talking to 
 Ellen herself? 
 
 SALLY 
 
 O, indeed, I had a talk with Ellen, but she won't 
 give much of her mind away. It was Matt that was 
 telling me. "Indeed she's not going," said he, "and 
 a smart young fellow like myself thinking of her. 
 Ellen is too full of notions." Here's Matt himself. 
 Father won't have a word to say to him. He's getting 
 mild as he's getting ould, and maybe it's a fortune 
 he'll be leaving to myself. 
 l^Matt comes to the door. He enters. 
 
 MATT 
 
 f Where is he? He's not gone to the fair so early? 
 
 SALLY 
 
 He's in the room. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Were you talking to him at all? Were you telling 
 him you saw myself? 
 
 SALLY 
 
 I was telling him that you were coming back. 
 
 MATT 
 
 How did he take it? 
 
 SALLY 
 
 Very quiet. God help us all; I think father's losing 
 his spirit. 
 MATT {going to Martin) 
 
 Well, you see I've come back, Martin. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Ay, you're a good lad. I always said you were a 
 good lad. 
 
THE LAND 125 
 
 MATT 
 
 How did father take it, Martin? 
 
 MARTIN DOUKAS 
 
 Quietly, quietly. You saw Ellen? 
 
 MATT 
 
 Ay, I saw Ellen (gloomily). She shouldn't talk the 
 way she talks, Martin. What she said keeps coming 
 into my mind, and I'm troubled. God knows I've 
 trouble enough on my head. 
 MARTIN DOURAS (eagerly) 
 
 What did she say, Matt Cosgar? 
 
 MATT 
 
 It wasn't what she said. She has that school in her 
 mind, I know. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 And is there anything to keep her here. Matt Cosgar? 
 
 MATT 
 
 I don't know that she thinks much of me now. We 
 had a few words, but there's nothing in the world I 
 put above Ellen Douras. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 I should be going to her. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Wait a bit, and I'll be going with you. Wait a bit. 
 Let us talk it over. She wouldn't go from you, and 
 you old. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 God forgive my age, if it would keep her here. Would 
 I have my Ellen drawing turf, or minding a cow, or 
 feeding pigs? 
 
 MATT 
 
 I'm fond of her, Martin. She couldn't go, and I so 
 fond of her. What am I doing here? I should be 
 
126 THE LAND 
 
 making it up with her. What good will anything be 
 if Ellen Douras goes? {He turns to the door, then 
 stops) I came to settle with him. I mustn't be run- 
 ning about like a frightened child. 
 l^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 roonYi door) 
 
 Sally, it's time to be putting on the meal. If you have 
 any cabbage left, put it through the meal. {To Matt) 
 You put the thong in the harness? 
 
 MATT 
 
 I did {pause) Well, I've come back to you. 
 
 MURTGAH COSGAR 
 
 You're welcome. We were making ready for the fair. 
 
 MATT 
 
 I'll be going out again before nightfall. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 I'll not be wanting you here, or at the fair. 
 MATT {sullenly) 
 
 There's no good talking to me like that. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 You said, "I've come back," and I said, "you're 
 welcome." You said, "I'm going out again," and I 
 said, "I'll not be wanting you." 
 
 MATT 
 
 Father, have you no feeling for me at all? 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Sure the wild raven on the tree has thought for her 
 young. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Ay, but do you feel for me, and I standing here, 
 trying to talk to you? 
 
THE LAND 127 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 You're my son, and so I feel sorry for you; and you 
 beginning to know your own foolishness. {He turns 
 to Sally) I'm not taking the pigs. Put a fresh bed- 
 ding under them to-night. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 I will, father. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Be up early, and let the cows along the road, or they'll 
 be breaking into the young meadow. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 I'll do that, too. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Be sure to keep enough fresh milk for the young calf. 
 
 SALLY 
 
 I'll be sure to do it, father. 
 
 \_81ie goes out. Martin takes out his paper, and begins 
 to read it again. 
 MATT {turning on Murtagh) 
 
 Before I go out again there's something I want settled. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 What is it you want.? 
 
 MATT 
 
 Would you have me go, or would you have me stay? 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Don't be talking of going or staying, and you the last 
 of them. 
 
 MATT 
 
 But I will be talking of it. You must treat me dif- 
 ferently if you want me to stay. You must treat me 
 differently to the way you treat Sally. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 You were always treated differently, Matt. In no 
 
128 THE LAND 
 
 house that ever I remember was there a boy treated 
 as well as you are treated here. 
 
 MATT 
 
 The houses that you remember are different from the 
 houses that are now. Will you have me go, or will 
 you have me stay? 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 You're very threatening. I'd have you stay. For 
 the sake of the name, I'd have you stay. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Let us take hands on it, then. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Wait, we'll see what you want first. 
 
 MATT 
 
 You have no feeling. I'd go out of this house, only 
 I want to give you a chance. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Stop. We can have kindness in this. We needn't be 
 beating each other down, like men at a fair. 
 
 MATT 
 
 We're not men at a fair. May God keep the kindness 
 in our hearts. 
 [^Martin rises. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Don't be going, Martin Douras. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Don't be going yet. I'll be with you, when you're 
 
 going. 
 
 \_Martin sits down. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR {tO Matt) 
 
 You'll be getting married, I suppose, if you stay? 
 
 MATT 
 
 Maybe I will. 
 
THE LAND 129 
 
 MURTAGH cosGAR (bitterly) 
 
 In the houses that are now, the young marry where 
 they have a mind to. It's their own business, they 
 say. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Maybe it is their own business. I'm going to marry 
 Ellen Douras, if she'll have me. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Ellen is a good girl, and clever, I'm told. But I would 
 not have you deal before you go into the fair. 
 
 MATT 
 
 I'm going to marry Ellen Douras. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Her father is here, and we can settle it now. What 
 fortune will you be giving Ellen, Martin.? That £100 
 that was saved while you were in Maryborough gaol.? 
 \_Martin shakes his head. 
 
 MATT (stubbornly) 
 
 I'm going to marry Ellen Douras, with or without a 
 fortune. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR (passionatcly) 
 
 Boy» your father built this house. He got these 
 lands together. He has a right to see that you 
 and your generations are in the way of keeping them 
 together. 
 
 MATT 
 
 I'll marry Ellen Douras, with or without a fortune. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Marry her, then. Marry Ellen Douras. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Now, Martin, we mustn't let an hour pass without 
 going to her. (He takes Martin's arm, and they go to 
 the door) 
 
130 THE LAND 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Marry Ellen Douras, I bid you. Break what I have 
 built, scatter what I have put together. That is 
 what all the young will be doing. 
 \^Ellen Douras comes to the door as Matt and Martin 
 reach it. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Ellen! 
 
 l^She shrinks back. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 It's my father I came to speak to. 
 MURTAGH COSGAR {going to the door, and drawing the 
 holt from the half-door) 
 
 When you come to my house, Ellen Douras, you are 
 welcome within. 
 [Ellen comes in. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 It's right that I should speak to you all. Matt Cosgar, 
 I am going from here. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Ellen, Ellen, don't be saying that. Don't be thinking 
 of the few words between us. It's all over now. 
 Father agrees to us marrying. Speak, father, and let 
 her hear yourself say it. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 I can't go into a farmer's house. 
 
 MATT 
 
 You said that out of passion. Don't keep your mind 
 on it any longer. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 It's true, it's true. I can't go into a farmer's house. 
 This place is strange to me. 
 
THE LAND 131 
 
 MATT 
 
 How can you talk like that? I'm always thinking of 
 you. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 I've stayed here long enough. I want my own way; 
 I want to know the world. 
 
 MATT 
 
 If you go, how will I be living, day after day? The 
 heart will be gone out of me. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 You'll be owning the land, Matt Cosgar. 
 MATT (passionately) 
 
 I've worked on the land all my days. Don't talk to 
 me about it now. 
 
 l^Ellen goes to Martin. Murtagh goes up to the door, 
 and then turns and speaks. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Listen to me. Matt Cosgar; and you listen too, Ellen 
 Douras. It's a new house you want maybe. This 
 house was built for me and my generations; but I'll 
 build a new house for you both. It's hard for a man 
 to part with his land before the hour of his death; 
 and it's hard for a man to break his lands; but I'll 
 break them, and give a share of land to you. 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 You were never friendly to me; but you have the 
 high spirit, and you deserve a better daughter than I 
 would make. The land and house you oflfer would 
 be a drag on me. {She goes to the door) 
 
 MATT 
 
 Ellen, what he offers is nothing, after all; but I care 
 for you. Sure you won't go from me hke that? 
 
132 THE LAND 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 Oh, can't you let me go? I care for you as much as I 
 care for any one. But it's my freedom I want. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Then you're going surely? 
 
 ELLEN 
 
 I am. Good-bye. 
 
 [^She goes out, Martin follows her. Matt stands dazed. 
 Murtagh closes the door, then goes and takes Matfs 
 arm, and brings him down. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Be a man. We offered her everything, and she went. 
 There's no knowing what the like of her wants. The 
 men will be in soon, and we'll drink to the new owner- 
 ship. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Oh, what's the good in talking about that now? If 
 Ellen was here, we might be talking about it. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 To-morrow you and me might go together. Ay, the 
 bog behind the meadow is well drained by this, and 
 we might put the plough over it. There will be a 
 fine, deep soil in it, I'm thinking. Don't look that 
 way, Matt, my son. 
 
 MATT 
 
 When I meet Ellen Douras again, it's not a farmer's 
 house I'll be offering her, nor life in a country place. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 No one could care for you as I care for you. I know 
 the blood between us, and I know the thoughts I 
 had as I saw each of you grow up. 
 [_Mait moves to the door. 
 
THE LAND 133 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Where are you going? 
 
 MATT 
 
 To see the boys that are going away. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Wait till the fall and I'll give you money to go and 
 come back. Farrell Kavanagh often goes to America. 
 You could go with him. 
 
 MATT 
 
 I'll go by myself, unless Ellen Douras comes now. The 
 creamery owes me money for the carting, and I'll get 
 it. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Then go. Good-bye to you, Matt Cosgar. 
 
 MATT 
 
 Good-bye to you. 
 
 l^He goes out. Murtagh stands, then moves about vaguely 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 The floor swept, the hearth tidied. It's a queer end 
 to it all. Twenty years I bid them offer. Twenty 
 years, twenty years! 
 \^3Iartin comes back. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 The men will be coming back. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 I suppose they will. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 You're a queer fellow, Martin Douras. You went to 
 gaol for some meeting. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Ay. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Them was the stirring times. I can't help but think 
 
134 THE LAND 
 
 of you in gaol, and by yourself. What brings you 
 back now? 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 Ellen told me to go back. I should say something to 
 Matt, I think. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 He went out as you came in. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 I'll go in when the house is quiet. I'll have a few 
 prayers to be saying this night. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 I'm going to the fair. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 I won't be going to the fair. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Why won't you be going to the fair? Didn't you ask 
 me for a lift? You'll be going with me. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 I won't be going, and don't be overbearing me now, 
 Murtagh Cosgar. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 You will be going to the fair, if it was only to be show- 
 ing that seemly face of yours. {Going to the door, he 
 calls "Sally!" He turiis to Martin Douras) I've 
 a daughter still, Martin Douras. 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 You have, and I have a son. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 What would you say to a match between them, 
 Martin Douras? 
 
 MARTIN DOURAS 
 
 I have nothing to say again it. 
 
THE LAND 135 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Then a match it will be. 
 [^Sally comes in from yard, 
 
 SALLY 
 
 If you fed that baste on honey, she'd turn on you. 
 Cabbage I gave her and got into trouble for it, and 
 now she's gone and trampled the bad potatoes till 
 they're hardly worth the boiling, I'll put the bush in 
 the gap when I'm going out again, father. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Ay. Is that Cornelius Douras that's coming up the 
 path? 
 
 SALLY 
 
 O faith it is. I'll get him to give me a hand with the 
 
 trough. 
 
 {Cornelius comes in. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 Well, Murtagh Cosgar, a great and memorial day is 
 ended. May you live long to enjoy the fruits of it. 
 Twenty years on the first term, and the land is ours 
 and our children's. I met the men. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Ours and our children's, ay. We've been making a 
 match between yourself and Sally. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 Between me and Sally? 
 
 SALLY 
 
 Between Cornelius and myself? 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 Ay, shake hands on it now. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 And tell me one thing, Murtagh Cosgar. Is it true 
 that Matt's going to America, and that Ellen will 
 
136 THE LAND 
 
 wait for him for a year at the school? I met them 
 together, and they told me that. 
 
 MURTAGH COSGAR 
 
 What they say is true, I'm sure. The land is yours 
 and your children's. 
 SALLY {wiping her hands in her apron) 
 O Cornelius. 
 
 CORNELIUS 
 
 Aren't they foolish to be going away like that, father, 
 and we at the mouth of the good times? The men 
 will be coming in soon, and you might say a few words. 
 {Martin shakes his head) Indeed you might, father; 
 they'll expect it of you. {Martin shakes his head. 
 Murtagh and Sally try to restrain him) "Men of 
 Bally killduff," you might say, "stay on the land, 
 and you'll be saved body and soul; you'll be saved in 
 the man and in the nation. The nation, men of 
 Bally killduff, do you ever think of it at all? Do you 
 ever think of the Irish nation that is waiting all this 
 time to be born?" 
 
 [//e becomes more excited; he is seen to be struggling 
 with words. 
 
 END OF PLAY 
 
The Land was first produced at the Abbey Theater, 
 Dublin, in June, 1905, by The Irish National Theater 
 Society, under the direction of W. G. Fay, with the 
 following cast : — 
 
 MuRTAGH CosGAR W. G. Fay 
 
 Matt Proinsias MacSiubhlaigh 
 
 Sally Sara Allgood 
 
 Martin Douras F. J. Fay 
 
 Cornelius Arthur Sinclair 
 
 Ellen Maire Ni Gharbhaigh 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
CHARACTERS 
 
 Thomas Muskerry The Master of Garrisowen 
 
 Workhouse 
 
 Mrs. Crilly His Daughter 
 
 Crofton Crilly His Son-in-law 
 
 Albert Crilly His Grandson 
 
 Anna Crilly His Granddaughter 
 
 James Scollard Thomas Muskerry 's Successor 
 
 Felix Tournour The Porter at Workhouse 
 
 Lodge 
 
 Myles Gorman A Bhnd Piper 
 
 Christy Clarke A Boy reared in the Work- 
 house 
 
 Shanley 1 
 
 Mickie Cripes y Paupers in Workhouse 
 
 An Old Man J 
 
 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 hack and towards right, and a big grand- 
 father'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 neiospapcrs and periodi- 
 cals. There is a rack beside corridor door, and on rack a 
 shaivl, 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.^5 
 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 thread- 
 bare, 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 
 
144 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 a wide mouth and discoloured teeth. His forehead is 
 narrow and bony. He is about forty-five. 
 
 TOURNOUR (in a harsh voice, after looking around) 
 
 Is he not back yet? 
 CHRISTY {without stirring) 
 
 Is who not back yet? 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 The master I'm talking about. I don't know where 
 he does be going these evenings. 
 \_He shovels coal into the stove. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 And what is it to you where he does be going? 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 Don't talk to me like that, young fellow. You're 
 poorhouse rearing, even though you are a pet. Will 
 he be sitting up here to-night, do you know? 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 What's that to you whether he will or not? 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 If he's sitting up late he'll want more coal to his fire. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 Well, the abstracts will have to be finished to-night. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 Then he will be staying up. He goes out for a walk in 
 the evenings now, and I don't know where he does be 
 going. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 He goes out for a walk in the country. (Tournour 
 makes a leer of contempt) Do you never go for a walk 
 in the country, Felix Tournour? 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 They used to take me out for walks when I was a 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 145 
 
 little fellow, but they never got me out into the 
 country since. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 I suppose, now that you're in the porter's lodge, you 
 watch every one that goes up and down the road? 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 It gratifies me to do so — would you believe that 
 now? 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 You know a lot, Felix Tournour. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 We're told to advance in knowledge, young fellow. 
 How long is Tom Muskerry the Master of Garrisowen 
 Workhouse? 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 Thirty years this spring. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 Twenty-nine years. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 He's here thirty years according to the books. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 Twenty-nine years. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 Thirty years. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 Twenty-nine years. I was born in the workhouse, 
 and I mind when the Master came in to it. Whist 
 now, here he is, and time for him. 
 [^He falls into an officious manner. He closes up the 
 stove and puts bucket away. Then he goes over to desk, 
 and, with his foot on the rung of the office stool, he turns 
 the gas on fall. Christy Clarke gets out of armchair, 
 and begins to arrange the periodicals that are on wooden 
 
146 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 chair. The corridor door opens. The man ivho appears 
 is not the Master, however. He is the blind piper, Myles 
 Gorman, loho 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 atten- 
 tive face of the blind. 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 Mister Muskerry! Are you there, Mister Muskerry? 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 What do you want, my oul' fellow? 
 GORMAN (with a puzzled look) 
 
 Well, now, I've a favour to ask of your honour. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 Be off out of this to your ward. 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 Is that Mister Muskerry? 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 Mister Muskerry isn't here. 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 And who am I talking to? 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 You are talking to Felix Tournour. 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 Felix Tournour! Ay, ay. Good night, Felix Tour- 
 nour. When will the Master be back? 
 TOURNOUR {coming to him) 
 
 Not till you're out of this, and back in your ward. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 147 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 Wasn't there a boy speaking to me? 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 Yes (speaking as if to a deaf man) The Master will 
 be going the rounds in a while, and you can speak 
 to him in the ward. 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 I've a favour to ask the Master, and I don't want to 
 ask it before the others. {To Christy) Will the 
 Master be here soon, a vick vig? ^ 
 TOURNOUR (taking him by the shoulders) 
 Here, now, come on, this is your way out. 
 ^He turns Gorman to the door. As he is putting him 
 out Thomas Muskerry enters 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 This oul' fellow came into the office, and I was lead- 
 ing him back into his ward. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Leave the man alone. 
 
 \_Tournour retreats to the stove and takes up the bucket; 
 after a look behind he goes out and closes the corridor 
 door. Christy Clarke takes the periodicals over to table 
 and sits down. Myles Gorman has been eager and 
 attentive. Thomas Muskerry stands with his back to the 
 stove. He is over sixty. He is a large man, fleshy in 
 face and figure, sanguine and benevolent in disposition. 
 He has the looks and movements of one in authority. His 
 hair is white and long; his silver beard is trimmed. His 
 clothes are loosely fitting. He wears no overcoat, but 
 has a white knitted muffler round his neck. He has 
 on a black, broad-brimmed hat, and carries a walking- 
 stick. 
 
 ^ A mhic bhig, my little son. 
 
148 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Well, my good man? 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 I'm here to ask a favour from you. Master, 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 You should proffer your request when I'm in the 
 ward. However, I'm ready to give you my attention. 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 I'm a blinded man, Master, and when you're in the 
 ward I can't get you by yourself conveniently. I 
 can't come up to you like the other oul' men and 
 speak to you private like. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Well, now, what can I do for you? 
 GORMAN {eagerly) 
 
 They tell me that to-morrow's the market-day, and I 
 thought that you might give me a pass, and let me 
 go out about the town. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 We'll consider it, Gorman. 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 Master, let me out in the town on the market-day. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 We couldn't let you out to play your pipes through 
 the town. 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 I'm not thinking of the music at all, Master, but to 
 be out in the day and to feel the throng moving about, 
 and to be talking to the men that do be on the roads. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 We'll consider it, Gorman. {He takes off muffler, and 
 puts it on back of armchair) 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 149 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 Well, I'm very much obliged to your honour. Good 
 night to you, Master. {He passes Muskerry and goes 
 towards the door. Muskerry has been regarding him) 
 
 MUSKERKY 
 
 Tell me this, Gorman, were you always on the 
 roads? 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 I was driving cattle, and I was dealing in horses. 
 Then I took up with an oul' man, and he taught me 
 the pipes. I'm playing the pipes ever since, and that's 
 thirty years ago. Well, the eyes began to wither up 
 on me, and now I've only a stim of sight. I'm a 
 blinded man from this out, Master. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 And what will you do.f* 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 Oh, sure the roads of Ireland are before me when I 
 leave this; I'll be playing my bit of music. (He 
 moves to the door) 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Tell me; have you any family yourself. ^^ 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 Ne'er a chick nor child belonging to me. Ne'er a 
 woman lay by me. I w^ent the road by myself. Will 
 you think of what I asked you, Master? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I'll consider it. 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 Good night to your honour. Remember my name. 
 Master — Gorman, Myles Gorman. 
 \_Muskerry stands looking after Gorman. 
 
150 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Now, Christy Clarke, I consider that the man gone 
 out is a very exceptional man. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 Is it Myles Gorman? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Yes. I'd even say that, considering his station in 
 life, Myles Gorman is a very superior man. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 They say he's not a good musician. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 And maybe he's not. I consider, however, that 
 there's great intelligence in his face. He stands 
 before you, and you feel that he has the life of a young 
 colt, and then you're bound to think that, in spite of 
 the fact that he's blind and a wanderer, the man 
 has not wasted his life. {Muskerry settles himself in 
 the armchair) 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 Will you give leave for to-morrow? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 No, Christy, I will not. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 Why not. Mister Muskerry? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 That man would break bounds and stay away. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 Do you think he would? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 He'd fly off, like the woodquest flying away from the 
 tame pigeons. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 He and his brother had a farm between them. His 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 151 
 
 brother was married, and one day the brother told 
 Myles to go to Dublin to see a comrade of his who 
 was sick. Myles was home in a week, and when he 
 came back he found that his brother had sold the 
 place and was gone out of the country. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 His brother did wrong, but he didn't do so much wrong 
 to Myles Gorman. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 How is that, Mister Muskerry? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 He sent Myles Gorman to his own life. He's a man 
 who went his own way always; a man who never 
 had any family nor any affairs; a man far different 
 from me, Christy Clarke. I was always in the middle 
 of affairs. Then, too, I busied myself about other 
 people. It was for the best, I think; but that's 
 finished. On the desk under your hand is a letter, 
 and I want you to bring it to me. 
 CHRISTY {going through papers idly) 
 
 "I am much obliged for your favour — " 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 That's not it. 
 CHRISTY (reading another letter) 
 "I am about to add to the obligations under which I 
 stand to you, by recommending to your notice my 
 grandson, Albert Crilly — " 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 That's the letter. It's the last of its kind. Bring it 
 to me. (Christy Clarke brings over the letter) There 
 comes a turn in the blood and a turn in the mind, 
 Christy. This while back I've been going out to the 
 country instead of into the town, and coming back 
 
152 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 here in the evenings I've seen the workhouse with 
 the big wall around it, and the big gate going into it, 
 and I've said to myself that Thomas Muskerry ought 
 to be as secure and contented here as if he was in his 
 own castle. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 And so you ought, Mister Muskerry. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Look round at the office, Christy. I've made it as 
 fit for me as the nest for the wren. I'll spend a few 
 more years here, and then I'll go out on pension. I 
 won't live in the town. I've seen a place in the country 
 I'd like, and the people will be leaving it in a year or 
 two. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 Where is it, Mister Muskerry.? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I'll say no more about it now, but it's not far from 
 this, and its near the place where I was reared. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 And so you'll go back to your own place. ^^ 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 As Oliver Goldsmith my fellow county man, and I 
 might almost say, my fellow parishioner, says — 
 What's this the lines are about the hare, Christy? 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 "And like the Hare whom Hounds and Horns pursue 
 Pants to the place from whence at first he flew." 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Aye. 
 
 "And like the Hare whom Hounds and Horns pur- 
 sue" — {The clock strikes nine) 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 153 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 You weren't on the rounds yet? 
 MUSKERRY (startled) 
 
 Would you believe it, now, it was nearly passing my 
 mind to go on the rounds? {He rises, putting the 
 letter in his pocket) Where's that fellow, Albert 
 Crilly? He was to have been in here to give me a 
 hand with the abstracts. Christy Clarke, go down 
 to Miss Coghlan's and get me two novelettes. Bring 
 me up two nice love stories, and be here when I come 
 back. 
 
 [^Christy Clarke takes his cap off rack and goes out. 
 Thomas Muskerry puts on his scarf, goes to the rack 
 and takes down the bunch of keys. As he is going out 
 Felix Tou'rnour enters with a bucket of coal. He carries 
 it over to the stove. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Now, Tournour, sweep up this place. 
 
 \^Thomas Muskerry goes out by corridor door. Felix 
 Tournour takes brush from under desk, left, and begins 
 to sweep in the direction of corridor door. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 Sweeping, sweeping! I'll run out of the house some 
 day on account of the work I've to do for Master 
 Thomas Muskerry. {He leans on his brush in front of 
 stove) I know why you're going for walks in the 
 country, my oul' cod. There's them in town that 
 you've got enough of. You don't want to go bail 
 for Madam Daughter, nor for Count Crofton Crilly, 
 your son-in-law, nor for the Masters and Mistresses; 
 all right, my oul' cod-fish. That I may see them lay- 
 ing you out on the flags of Hell. {He puts the brush 
 standing upright, and speaks to it) 
 
154 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 "The Devil went out for a ramble at night, 
 Through Garrisowen Union to see every sight. 
 The oul' 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 many 
 who might be a bank clerk or a medical student. He is 
 something of a dude, but has a certain insight and wit. 
 ALBERT (lighting a cigarette) 
 
 Is the grandparent here, Tournour? 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 He's gone on the rounds. Mister Albert. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 What time was he up this morning? 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 He was late enough. He wasn't up in time to come 
 to Mass with us. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 The old man will get into trouble. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 If the nuns hear about it. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 155 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 He'll have to give the whole thing up soon. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 He's well off that can get somebody else to do the 
 work for him. {He continues to sweep towards corridor) 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 Tournour, you're a damned clever fellow. I heard a 
 piece of yours yesterday that I thought was damned 
 good. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 Was it a rhyme? 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 It was something called "The Devil's Rambles." 
 TOURNOUR {taking a step towards him) Don't let the 
 boss hear, and I'll tell it to you, Mr. Albert. {He 
 holds the brush in his hands and is about to begin the 
 recitation when Crqfton Crilly enters from the Master's 
 apartments. Crqfton Crilly has a presentable appear- 
 ance. He is big and well made, has a fair beard and 
 blue eyes. A pipe is always in his mouth. He is a 
 loiterer, a talker, a listener) 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Are you going to finish the abstracts to-night, Albert? 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 I believe I am. Go on with "The Devil's Rambles," 
 Tournour. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 I heard it in Keegan's. It's damn good. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 I don't like saying it before Mister Crilly. 
 CRILLY {with easy contempt) 
 
 Go on with it, man; I'll leave a pint in Keegan's for 
 you. 
 
156 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 TOURNOUK 
 
 Well, you mightn't like it. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Have done talking and go on with it. 
 
 TOURNOUR {reciting) — 
 
 "In his chamber above — a - a 'person lay snug. 
 When the Devil this summons roared in his lug — 
 *Get up,' said the Devil, 'and swear you'll be true. 
 And the oath of allegiance I'll tender anew. 
 You'll have pork, veal, and lamb, mutton-chops, fowl 
 
 and fish. 
 Cabbage and carrots and leeks as you wish. 
 No fast days to you will make visitation. 
 For your sake the town will have dispensation. 
 Long days you will have, without envy or strife. 
 And when you depart you'll find the same life, 
 And in the next world you'll have your will and your 
 
 sway. 
 With a Poorhouse to govern all your own way, 
 And I'll promise you this; to keep up your state, 
 You'll have Felix Tournour to watch at the gate. ' " 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 That's damn good. I must get a copy of the whole of 
 it to show at Keegan's. 
 
 \^Tournour has swept as Jar as the corridor door. He 
 opens it and sweeps down the passage. He goes out 
 and closes door. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 That's a damn clever fellow. {He becomes anxious, 
 as with a troubled recollection. Fie goes to the little 
 cabinet, opens it, and takes out a bottle of whisky and a 
 glass. He pours some whisky into the glass, and re- 
 mains looking at himself in the mirror. He smooths his 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 157 
 
 beard. He goes to the arm chair with the glass of whisky, 
 the anxious expression still on his face) This is a 
 cursed town. (He drinks) 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 Every town in Ireland is a cursed town. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 But this is an extraordinarily cursed town. Every- 
 body's in debt to everybody else. I don't know what's 
 to be done. Now, imagine that fellow, James Covey, 
 failing in business and getting clear out of the town. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 Covey seems to have done it well. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 God knows how many he has stuck. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 Well, he didn't stick the Crillys for anything. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Albert, you don't know how these financial things 
 work out. Do you think would his brother settle.? 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 Settle with whom? 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Well . . . with any of the . . . any of the people 
 that have ... I don't know. It's a cursed tovvu. 
 If I had joined the police at your age, I'd have a 
 pension by this, and I mightn't care for any of 
 them. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 I wish I had a job and I'd wait on the pension. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Oh, you'll be all right. The grandfather is seeing 
 about your job. 
 
158 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 If the grandparent gets me that job I'll want two 
 new suits at least. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Ton my soul, Albert, I don't know what's to be 
 done. (His mind wanders off) I suppose the ab- 
 stracts have to go out in the morning. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 They have. And damn all the old man has done to 
 them. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 The Guardians hear that he's late in the mornings, 
 Albert, and some of them are beginning to question 
 his fitness to check the stores. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 ^ The old man ought to resign. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 I suppose he ought. I'm not wishing for his resignation 
 myself, Albert. You know your mother regards it as 
 a settled thing that he should come and live with us. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 The mother and Anna are preparing for the event. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 How's that, Albert? 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 Mother has James ScoUard in her eye for the new 
 Master. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Right enough! Scollard would get it, too, and then 
 he would marry Anna. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 That's the arrangement, I expect. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 159 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 It mightn't be bad. Scollard mightn't want Nancy's 
 money under that arrangement. Still I don't like 
 the idea of the old man living in the house. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 The mother would never think of letting him take 
 himself and his pension anywhere else. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 I don't think she would. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 I wouldn't be surprised if he did go somewhere else. 
 I hear he often goes up to that cottage in Stradrina. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 What cottage, Albert? 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 Briar Cottage. I hear he sits down there, and talks 
 of coming to live in the place. 
 CRILLY (warningly) 
 
 Albert, don't clap hands behind the bird. Take my 
 word, and say nothing about it. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 All right. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 We'd have no comfort in the house if your mother's 
 mind was distracted. 
 
 [3/rs. Crilly enters from corridor. She is a woman of 
 forty, dressed in a tailor-made costume. She has search- 
 ing eyes. There is something of hysteria about her 
 mouth. She has been good-looking. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Good night, Marianne. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Are you finishing the abstracts, Albert? 
 
160 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 I'm working at them. It's a good job we didn't leave 
 the old man much latitude for making mistakes. 
 MRS. CRiLLY {closing door) 
 He'll have to resign. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Good God, Marianne. {He rises) 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Well. Let him be sent away without a pension. Of 
 course, he can live with us the rest of his life and give 
 us nothing for keeping him. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 I don't know what's in your mind at all, Marianne. 
 {He crosses over to the cabinet, opens it, and fills out 
 another glass of whisky) 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 Let the old man do what suits himself. 
 CRILLY {coming back to stove) 
 
 Do, Marianne. Let him do what suits himself. For 
 the present. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 For pity's sake put down that glass and listen to 
 what I have to say. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 What's the matter, Marianne ? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 James Scollard came to me to-day, and he told me 
 about the things that are noticed. . . . The nuns 
 notice them, the Guardians notice them. He misses 
 Mass. He is late on his rounds. He can't check the 
 stores that are coming into the house. He may get 
 himself into such trouble that he'll be dismissed with 
 only an apology for a pension, or with no pension at all. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 161 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 I don't know what's to be done. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 If he could be got to resign now James Scollard would 
 have a good chance of becoming Workhouse Master. 
 He would marry Anna, and we would still have some 
 hand in the affairs of the House. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Yes, yes. I think that Scollard could make a place 
 for himself. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 The old man won't be anxious to retire. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Why shouldn't he retire when his time is up? 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 Well, here he is what's called a potentate. He won't 
 care to come down and live over Crilly's shop. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 And where else would he live, in the name of God? 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 He won't want to live with our crowd. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 What crowd? The boys can be sent to school, you'll 
 be on your situation, and Anna will be away. (She 
 seats herself in the armchair) I don't know what 
 Albert means when he says that the Master would 
 not be content to live with us. It was always settled 
 that he would come to us when his service was over. 
 [^Albert, who has been going over the booJcs, 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. 
 
162 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 dark hair and eyes. She is well dressed, and wears a 
 cap of dark fur. She stands at the stove, behind her 
 mother, holding her hands over the stove. Mrs. Crilly 
 watches the pair at the desk. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 We can't think of allowing a pension of fifty pounds a 
 year to go out of our house. Where will we get money 
 to send the boys to school.'^ 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Mother. Grandfather is going to live away from us. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Why do you repeat what Albert says? 
 
 ANNA 
 
 I didn't hear Albert say anything. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Then, what are you talking about.'* 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Grandfather goes to Martin's cottage nearly every 
 evening, and stays there for hours. They'll be leaving 
 the place in a year or two, and Grandfather was 
 saying that he would take the cottage when he 
 retired from the Workhouse. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 When did you hear this? 
 
 ANNA 
 
 This evening. Delia Martin told me. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 And that's the reason why he has kept away from us. 
 He goes to strangers, and leaves us in black ignorance 
 of his thought. 
 [^Crilly and Albert are busy at desk. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Well, damn it all — 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 163 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 Here's the voucher. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 God! I don't know what's to be done. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 It's a matter of fifty tons. 
 
 l^Albert turns round deliberately, leaving his father going 
 through the papers in desperate eagerness. Albert takes 
 a cigarette from behind his ear, takes a match-box from 
 his waistcoat pocket, and strikes a light. He goes towards 
 door of apartments. Mrs. Crilly rises. 
 ALBERT {his hand on the handle of door) 
 Well so-long. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Where are you going? 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 I'm leaving you to talk it over with the old man. 
 \_Mrs. Crilly looks from Albert to Crilly. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 The Master has let himself in for something serious, 
 Marianne. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 It's a matter of fifty pounds. The old man has let 
 the Guardians pay for a hundred tons of coal when 
 only fifty were delivered. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Is that so, Crofton? 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 It looks like it, Marianne. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 There were fifty tons of coal already in stores, but 
 the Governor didn't take them into account. That 
 cute boy, James Covey, delivered fifty tons and 
 
164 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 charged for the hundred. The old man passed on the 
 certificate, and the Guardians paid Covey. They 
 helped him to his passage to America. {He opens 
 door and goes through) 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 They will dismiss him — dismiss him without a 
 pension. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Mother. If he gets the pension first, could they take 
 it back from him? 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 No. But they could make him pay back the fifty 
 pounds in instalments. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Fifty pounds! We can't afford to lose fifty pounds. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Who would find out about the coal, father? 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 The Guardians who take stock. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 And how would they know at this time whether 
 there was a hundred or a hundred and fifty tons 
 there at first? 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 The business men amongst them would know. How- 
 ever, there won't be an inspection for some time. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Suppose grandfather had got his pension and had 
 left the Workhouse, who would know about the coal? 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 The new Workhouse Master. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 The new Workhouse Master — 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 165 
 
 CHILLY 
 
 Marianne — , 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Well? 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 I think I'll stay here and advise the old man. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 No. Go away. 
 CRILLY {at door of apartments) 
 
 After all, I'm one of the Guardians, and something 
 might be done. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 You can do nothing. We can do nothing for him. 
 Let him go to the strangers. 
 \Xlrilly goes out. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Anna! 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Yes, mother. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 The Martins are not giving up their house for a year 
 or two? 
 
 ANNA 
 
 No, mother. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 If he resigns now his pension will be safe. There is 
 nothing else against him. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 But some one will find out the difference in the coal. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 It's the new Workhouse Master who will know that. 
 
 ANNA {hardening) 
 
 But he could not pass such a thing, mother. 
 
166 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 MRS. CRiLLY {abandoning a position) 
 
 Well, after your grandfather gets his pension we 
 could make some arrangement with the Guardians. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Yes, mother. Hasn't grandfather a hundred pounds 
 invested in the shop? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 It's not a hundred pounds. Besides, it's not an invest- 
 ment. 
 
 ANNA {with a certain resolution in her rich voice) 
 Mother. Is my money safe? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 We could give you the eighty pounds, Anna, but after 
 that we would need all the help we could get from you. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Yes, mother. 
 MRS. CRILLY {again taking up a position) 
 
 But if we help James Scollard to the place. 
 ANNA {with determination) 
 
 Whether Mr. Scollard gets the place or does not 
 
 get the place, I'll want my fortune, mother. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Very well, Anna. If we could get him to come over. 
 . . . {She sits in arm chair) There's a lamb in Gin- 
 nell's field; you might call in to-morrow and ask 
 them to prepare it for us. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Then grandfather is coming to dinner on Sunday? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 We must get him to come. 
 
 [^Some one is coming up the passage. Annans hand is 
 on handle of door. She holds it open. Thomas 3Ius- 
 Jcerry stands there. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 167 
 
 MUSKERRY (pleased to see her) 
 Well, Nancy! 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Good night, grandpapa. (He regards her with fondness) 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Good night, father. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 This Nancy girl is looking remarkably well. (He 
 turns to Mrs. Crilly) Well, ma'am, and how are 
 you.f* I've written that letter for that rascally Albert. 
 \_He leaves his stick on table and goes to desk. Mrs, 
 Crilly watches him. Anna comes to her. Muskerry 
 addresses an envelope with some labour. Mrs. Crilly 
 notices a tress of Anna''s hair falling down. Anna 
 kneels down beside her. She takes off Anna's cap, 
 settles up the hair, and puts the cap on again. Having 
 addressed the envelope, Muskerry holds up a piece of 
 wax to the gas. He seals the letter, then holds it out. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Here's the letter now, and maybe it's the last thing 
 I can do for any of ye. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 You are very good. 
 [^Muskerry goes to them. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 In season and out of season I've put myself at your 
 service. I can do no more for ye. 
 [^She takes the letter from him. His resentment is 
 breaking down. He sits on chair beside armchair. He 
 speaks in a reconciling tone. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 You're looking well, Marianne. 
 
168 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I'm beginning to be well again. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 And the infant? What age is he now? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Little Joseph is ten months old. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I dreamt of him last night. I thought Joseph became 
 a bishop. He ought to be reared for the Church, 
 Marianne. Well, well, I've nothing more to do with 
 that. {He settles himself in the armchair) Did 
 Christy Clarke bring in the papers? 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Christy Clarke hasn't been here at all, grandpapa. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Stand here till I look at you Nancy. {Anna comes left 
 of stove) I w^ouldn't be surprised if you were the 
 best-looking girl in the town, Nancy. 
 
 ANNA {without any coquettishness) 
 
 Anna Crilly is not going into competition with the 
 others. {She wraps the muffler round him, then kisses 
 him) Good night, grandpapa. {She goes out by 
 corridor door) 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Thank you for the letter for Albert. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I think, Marianne, it's the last thing I can do for 
 you or yours. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Well, we can't tell a bad story of you, and things are 
 well with us. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 1G9 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I'm glad to hear that. I was thinking of going to see 
 you next week. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Come to dinner on Sunday. We are having a lamb. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 What sort is the lamb? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Oh, a very young lamb. Anna will make the dressing 
 for you. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I'll send round a bottle of wine. Perhaps we'll be 
 in the way of celebrating something for Albert. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Nancy was saying that you might like to stay a few 
 days with us. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Stay a few days! How could I do that, ma'am? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 You could get somebody to look after the House. 
 James Scollard would do it, and you could stay out 
 for a few days. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Well, indeed, I'll do no such thing. What put it 
 into your head to ask me this? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Nancy said — 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Let the girl speak for herself. What's in your mind, 
 woman? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Well, you're not looking well. 
 
170 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I'm as well as ever I was. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Others do not think so. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I suppose you heard I was late a few mornings. No 
 matter for that. I'm as well as ever I was. No more 
 talk about it; I'm going on with the work. {He 
 
 rises and goes over to desk) 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I'm sorry to say that no one else thinks as well of 
 you as you do yourself. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Well, I'll hear no more about it, and that's enough 
 about it. Why isn't Albert Crilly here? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Well, he was here, and he is coming back. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I'll want him. (He takes up a card left on the desk. 
 He turns round and reads — "You have let the Guard- 
 ians pay for a hundred tons. James Covey delivered 
 only fifty tons of coal." Who left this here? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I suppose Albert left it for you. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 The impudent rascal. How dare he address himself 
 like that to me? (He throws card on table) 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Perhaps he found something out in the books. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 No matter whether he did or not, he'll have to have 
 respect when he addresses me. Anyway it's a lie — 
 a damn infernal lie. I was in the stores the other day. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 171 
 
 and there was eighty tons of coal still there. Cer- 
 tainly twenty tons had been taken out of it. The 
 Provision Check Account will show. (He takes up a 
 book and turns round. He goes back some pages. He 
 lets the book fall. He stands there helpless) I suppose 
 you all are right in your judgment of me. I'm at my 
 failing time. I'll have to leave this without pension 
 or prospect. They'll send me away. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 They had nothing against you before this. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I was spoken of as the pattern for the officials of 
 Ireland. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 If you resigned now — 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Before this comes out. {He looks for help) Marianne, 
 it would be like the blow to the struck ox if I lost my 
 pension. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 If you managed to get the pension you could pay the 
 Guardians back in a lump sum. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 If I resigned now, where would I go to? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 It was always understood that you would stay with 
 us. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 No, Marianne. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 You'll have the place to yourself. The boys will be 
 going to school, and Albert will be away, too. Anna 
 and myself will look after you. 
 
172 THOINIAS IVIUSKERRY 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I could stay for a while. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Oh, well, if you have a better place to go — 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Remember what I said, Marianne. I've worked for 
 you and yours, in season and out of season. There 
 should be no more claims on me. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 There are no more claims on you. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I'm willing to leave in the shop what I put into the 
 shop. Let Anna know that it will come to her from 
 me. I'll write to the Guardians to-night and I'll 
 send in my resignation. I venture to think that 
 they'll know their loss. 
 
 \^Mrs. Crilly goes out quietly by corridor door. 
 MUSKERRY (by Mmself) 
 
 And I had made this place as fit for me as the nest 
 for the wren. Wasn't he glad to write that card, the 
 impudent rascal, with his tongue in his cheek? I'll 
 consider it again. I won't leave this place till it fits 
 myself to leave it. 
 ^Christy Clarke enters by corridor door with papers. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 They want me to resign from this place, Christy. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 You're thirty years here! Aren't you, Mister Mus- 
 kerry? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Thirty years, thirty years. Ay, Christy, thirty years; 
 it's a long time. And I'm at my failing time. Per- 
 haps I'm not able to do any more. Day after day 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 173 
 
 there would be troubles here, and I wouldn't be able 
 to face them. And in the end I might lose my posi- 
 tion. I'm going to write out my resignation. {He 
 goes to the desk and writes. Christy is at table. Mus- 
 kerry turns round after writing) 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 No one that comes here can have the same heart 
 for the poor that I had. I was earning in the year of 
 the famine. I saw able men struggling to get the 
 work that would bring them a handful of Indian 
 meal. And I saw the little children waiting on the 
 roads for relief. (He turns back and goes on with letter. 
 Suddenly a bell in the House begins to toll) What's 
 that for, Christy? 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 Malachi O'Rourk, the Prince, as they called him, is 
 dead. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Aye, I gave orders to toll him when he died. He was 
 an estated gentleman, and songs were made about his 
 family. People used to annoy him, but he's gone 
 from them now. Bring me a little whisky, Christy. 
 [^Christy goes to Cabinet. Muskerry follows him. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 There's none in the bottle, Mister Muskerry. 
 MUSKERRY (bitterly) 
 
 No, I suppose not. And is that rascal, Albert Crilly, 
 coming back.'' 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 He's coming. Mister Muskerry. I left the novelette 
 on the table. Miss Coghlan says it's a nice love story. 
 "The Heart of Angelina," it is called. 
 
174 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I haven't the heart to read. 
 
 ^The bell continues to toll. Christy goes to door. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 Good night, Mister Muskerry. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Good night, Christy. 
 
 [^Christy Clarke goes out through apartments. Thomas 
 Muskerry is standing with hand on arm chair. The 
 bell tolls. 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
ACT SECOND 
 
 In Crillyi'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 hack, right, is a cup- 
 hoard 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 hack, an armchair at 
 fire, and two leather-covered chairs about. Conventional 
 pictures on walls, and two certificates framed, showing 
 that some one in the house has passed some Intermediate 
 examinations. 
 
 It is the forenoon of an April day. Mrs. Crilly is 
 seated on sofa, going through a heap of account books. 
 Anna Crilly is at window. Crofton Crilly enters from the 
 shop. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 It's all right, Marianne. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Well? 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 The Guardians insisted on appointing an outside 
 person to take stock of the workhouse stores. It's 
 the new regulation, you know. Well, the job lay 
 between young Dobbs and Albert, and Albert has got 
 it. I don't say but it was a near thing. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I hope Albert will know what to do. 
 
176 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 He'll want to watch the points. Where's the Master? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 He's in his room upstairs. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Was he not out this morning? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 He's not dressed yet. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 He was more particular when he was in the workhouse. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 I know who those two children are now. They are 
 the new gas-manager's children. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 He's a Scotchman. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 And married for the second time. Mother, Mrs. 
 Dunne is going to the races. Such a sketch of a hat. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 It would be better for her if she stayed at home and 
 looked after her business. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 She won't have much business to look after soon. 
 That's the third time her husband has come out of 
 Farrell's public-house. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 He's drinking with the Dispensary Doctor. Com- 
 panions! They're the curse of this town, Marianne. 
 {He sits down) 
 
 ANNA 
 
 She's walked into a blind man, hat and all. He's 
 from the Workhouse. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 177 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 He's the blind piper out of the workhouse, Myles 
 Gorman. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 There's no one within. You should go into the shop, 
 Anna. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Yes, mother. (She crosses) James Scollard is coming 
 in, mother, 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Very well, Anna. Stay in the shop until Mary comes. 
 [^Anna goes into the shop. Crilly moves about. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 You're very uneasy. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Yes, I am uneasy, Marianne. There's some present- 
 ment on me. Fifty pounds a year is a good pension 
 for the old man. He's a month out now. He ought 
 to be getting an instalment. 
 \_Anna comes in from shop. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Mother, the doctor's daughter is in the shop. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 What does she want? 
 ANNA {imitating an accent) 
 
 Send up a pound of butter, two pounds of sugar, and 
 a pound of tea. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 These people are paying nobody. But we can't 
 refuse her. I suppose we'll have to send them up. 
 Be very distant with her, Anna. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 I've kept her waiting. Here's a letter, mother. ^ 
 
178 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 MRS. CRiLLY (taking letter) 
 When did it come, Anna? 
 
 ANNA 
 
 It's just handed in. 
 
 \^Anna goes out. Mrs. Crilly opens letter. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 It's from the bank. They want me to call. What 
 does the bank manager want with me, I wonder.? 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 I have something to tell you, Marianne. I'll tell 
 you in a while. {He takes a turn up and down) 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 What do you want to tell me? 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Prepare your mind, Marianne. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 What is it? 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 I owe you money, Marianne. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Money! How do you owe me money? 
 
 CRILLY ' 
 
 That cute boy, James Covey, who took in all the 
 town — 
 MRS. CRILLY (rising) 
 
 Covey! My God! You backed a bill for him? 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 I'll make a clean breast of it. I did. 
 MRS. CRILLY (with fear in her eyes) 
 
 How much is it? 
 CRILLY (walking away to ivindow) 
 
 I'll come to that, Marianne. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 179 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Did any one back the bill with you? 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 I obliged the fellow. No one backed the bill with me. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Does any one know of it? 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 No, Marianne. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 The bank. . . . Tell me what happened. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 The bank manager sent for me when he came to the 
 town after Covey cleared. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 We had four hundred pounds in the bank. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 We had, Marianne. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Tell me how much was the bill. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 There's no use in beating about the bush. The bill 
 was for three hundred pounds. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 And what has the bank done? 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 I'm sorry to say, Marianne, the bank has taken the 
 money over from our account. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 You've ruined us at last, Crofton Crilly. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 You should never forgive me, Marianne. I'll go to 
 America and begin life again. {He turns to go out 
 by shop) 
 
180 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 We have no money left. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 A hundred pounds, Marianne. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 That's Anna's money. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Scollard should be satisfied. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Anna insists on getting her money. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Very well, Marianne. I'll leave it all to yourself. 
 
 \_James Scollard comes in. Anna is behind him. Scol- 
 lard has an account book in his hand. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 Good morning, Mrs. Crilly. Good morning, Mr. 
 Crilly. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Good morning, Mr. Scollard. 
 \_Crojton Crilly turns to go. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Don't go, father. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 Don't go, Mr. Crilly. I have something particular to 
 say to yourself and Mrs. Crilly. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Sit down, Mr. Scollard. 
 
 \_Anna brings chair, and Scollard sits center. Anna 
 
 stands behind him. Mrs. Crilly sits left of him. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 I am here to propose for the hand of your daughter. 
 Miss Anna Crilly. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 181 
 
 MRS. CJIILLY 
 
 We have nothing to say against your proposal, Mr. 
 Scollard. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Won't you take something, James? 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 No, thanks, Mr. Crilly. I never touch intoxicants, 
 l^Crofton Crilly goes into shop. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 We couldn't wish for a better match for Anna. But 
 I feel bound to tell you, Mr. Scollard, that we have 
 had a very severe loss in our business. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 What is it, mother? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I don't mind telling you. Mr. Crilly has made him- 
 self responsible for a bill on the bank. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 In whose interest, Mrs. Crilly? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 He backed a bill for James Covey. A bill for three 
 hundred pounds. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Oh, mother! 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 It's a dead sure loss. I don't know what we are to 
 do, Anna. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 This is very bad, Mrs. Crilly. 
 
 £Crofton Crilly comes back from shop. He brings in a 
 
 glass of whisky. He puts lohisky on chimney-piece. 
 
182 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 The bank has taken over three hundred pounds from 
 our account. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Perhaps Scollard — 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 What were you saying, Mr. Crilly? 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Oh, I was just thinking — about a bill you know — 
 If some one would go security for us at the bank — 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Father, what are you saying? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 It's unnecessary to talk like that. In spite of your 
 foolishness, we still have a balance at the bank. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 My portion comes to me from my grandmother. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 May I ask, Mrs. Crilly, is Miss Crilly's portion safe? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 It is safe, Mr. Scollard. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 I have been definitely appointed Master of the Union, 
 and I may say that Anna and myself are anxious to 
 marry. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 It needn't be soon, Mr. Scollard. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 After Easter, Mrs. Crilly. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 But that's very soon. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 I am anxious to settle down, Mrs. Crilly. I'm on my 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 183 
 
 way to a meeting of the Board of Guardians, but 
 before I go I'd like to have some more information 
 about your loss. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Anna's portion is not touched, but we could hardly 
 afford to let the money go from us now. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 Is that so, Mrs. Crilly? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Three hundred pounds is a very severe loss. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 Very severe, indeed. Still, you understand, Mrs. 
 Crilly, the difficulties of taking such a step as marriage 
 without adequate provision. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Damn it all, man, Marianne and myself married 
 without anything at all. 
 MRS. CRILLY (bitterly) 
 
 Anna won't be such a fool as her mother. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Well, Scollard has his position, and we helped him to 
 it. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 I acknowledge that. 
 
 ANNA ' 
 
 Isn't my portion eighty pounds, mother.? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Yes, Anna. But I'd like to tell Mr. Scollard that it 
 would come as a strain on us to let the money go at 
 once. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 I daresay, Mrs. Crilly. 
 
184 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 ANNA 
 
 But, mother, wouldn't the money be safer with us? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Well, I leave the whole thing in the hands of Mr. 
 Scollard. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 Anna and myself have been talking things over, Mrs. 
 Crilly. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 And we don't want to begin life in a poor way. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 We see the advantage of being always solvent, Mrs. 
 Crilly. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 James has ambitions, and there's no reason why he 
 shouldn't venture for the post of Secretary of the 
 County Council when old Mr. Dobbs retires. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 In a few years, Mrs. Crilly, when I had more official 
 experience and some reputation. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Then he would have seven or eight hundred a year. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 As I said, a man like myself would want to be in a 
 perfectly solvent position. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Besides, James has no money of his own. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 I never had the chance of putting money by — Family 
 calls, Mrs. Crilly. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 And we don't want to begin life in a poor way. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 185 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 You won't want the whole of the money. I'll give 
 you forty pounds now. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 And forty when the first child is born. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Oh, father, how can you say such a thing? 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 I need only say this. Anna and myself were talking 
 over affairs, and we came to the conclusion it would 
 be best not to start with less than eighty pounds. 
 {He rises) I have to go down to the Board Room 
 now, for there is a meeting of the Guardians. {He 
 goes towards door) 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Won't you take a glass? 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 No, thanks, Mr. Crilly. I never touch stimulants. 
 
 Good day to you all. 
 
 \_He goes out. Crofton Crilly goes after him. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Anna, you won't be deprived of your money. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Then what's the diflBculty, mother? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Let half of the money remain with us for a while. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 But, mother, if I don't get all my money, what secu- 
 rity have I that what's left will be good in six months 
 or a year? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I'll watch the money for you, Anna. 
 
186 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 ANNA 
 
 It's hard to keep a hold on money in a town where 
 business is going down. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Forty pounds will be given to you and forty pounds 
 will be kept safe for you. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Forty pounds! There's not a small farmer comes into 
 the shop but his daughter has more of a dowry than 
 forty pounds. 
 
 MRS, CRILLY 
 
 Think of all who marry without a dowry at all. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 You wouldn't have me go to James Scollard without a 
 dowry.? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Well, you know the way we're situated. If you insist 
 on getting eighty pounds we'll have to make an over- 
 draft on the bank, and, in the way business is, I 
 don't know how we'll ever recover it. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 There won't be much left out of eighty pounds when 
 we get what suits us in furniture. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I could let you have some furniture. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 No, mother. We want to start in a way that is dif- 
 ferent from this house. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 You'll want all the money together? 
 
 ANNA 
 
 All of it, mother. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 187 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 You'll have to get it so. But you're very hard, Anna. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 This house would teach any one to look to themselves. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Come upstairs. {Anna goes, left) Three hundred 
 pounds of a loss. Eighty pounds with that. I'm 
 terrified when I think. (She goes after Anna) 
 [Crofton Crilly comes in from shop. He takes glass of 
 whisky from table, and sits down in arm chair. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 I don't know what Marianne's to do at all. She has 
 a shocking lot to contend with. Can anything be 
 got from the old man, I wonder .f* 
 [^Albert Crilly comes in by door, left. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 Well, pa. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Well, Albert. What's the news in the town, Albert? 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 They say that you've backed a bill for Covey. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 If your mother hears that kind of talk she'll be vexed, 
 Albert. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 But did you back the bill.'* 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 For Heaven's sake, let me alone, Albert. Yes, I 
 backed the bill. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 How much? 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 You'll hear all about it from your mother. 
 
188 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 They say the bill was for three hundred. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 It was three or thereabouts. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 Ton my word, father, the mother will have to take 
 out a mandamus against you. 
 CRILLY {with parental dignity) 
 
 Don't talk to me in that way, Sir. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 It's scandalous, really. I expect you've ruined the 
 business. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 I hate the world and all its works and pomps. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 I believe you've done for the business. I'm going 
 away. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Then you've got the other appointment? 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 Temporary clerkship in the Land Department. I 
 wonder would the mother let me have the money for 
 clothes? 
 CRILLY (desperately) 
 
 Don't mention it at all to her. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 I have a card from a Dublin tailor in my pocket. If 
 I could pay him for one suit, I could get another on 
 tick. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 I tell you not to talk to your mother about money. 
 That fellow, Scollard, has put her out. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 189 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 How's that? 
 crilly' 
 
 Money again. Wants the whole of Anna's portion 
 down. And Anna's backing him up, too. I don't 
 know how your mother can stand it. I don't hke 
 ScoUard. Then you won't be staying on, Albert, to 
 do the stocktaking in the Workhouse? 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 No; they'll have to get some one else. I'm glad to 
 be out of that job. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 I'm not sorry, Albert. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 The mother would expect me to do something queer 
 in my report. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Between you and me, Albert, women aren't acquainted 
 with the working of affairs, and they expect unusual 
 things to happen. Who will they make stocktaker, 
 now? 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 Young Dobbs, likely. I suppose the whole business 
 about the coal will come out then? 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 I suppose it will; but say nothing about it now, Albert. 
 Let the hare sit. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 What does the old man think about it now? 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 He's very close to himself. I think he has forgotten 
 all about it. 
 
190 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 I wouldn't say so. 
 
 CRILLY 
 
 Who's that in the shop, Albert? 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 Felix Tournour. 
 CRILLY (rising) 
 
 I wonder what they think about Scollard in the Poor- 
 house. (He and Albert go into the shop as Muskerry 
 enters from left) 
 
 {^Muskerry is untidily dressed. His boots are unlaced. 
 He walks across the room and speaks pettishly. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 They haven't brought my soup yet. They won't 
 give much of their time to me. I'm disappointed in 
 Anna Crilly. Well, a certain share in this shop was 
 to have gone to Anna Crilly. I'll get that share, and 
 I'll hoard it up myself. I'll hoard it up. And the 
 fifty pounds of my pension, I'll hoard that up, too. 
 \^Albert comes in from shop. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 That's a black fire that's in the grate. I don't like 
 the coal that comes into this place. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 Coal, eh, grandpapa. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I said coal. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 We haven't good stores here. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Confound you for your insolence. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 Somebody you know is in the shop — Felix Tournour. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 191 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Bid Tournour come in to me. 
 ALBERT (talking into the shop) 
 
 You're wanted here, Tournour. Come in now or I'll 
 entertain the boss with "The Devil's Rambles." 
 (He turns to Muskerry) I was given the job of stock- 
 taking. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 That's a matter for yourself. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 I don't think I'll take the job now. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Why won't you take it? 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 I don't know what to say about the fifty tons of coal. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I was too precipitate about the coal. But don't have 
 me at the loss of fifty pounds through any of your 
 smartness. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 All right, grandfather; I'll see you through. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Confound you for a puppy. 
 
 l^Felix Tournour enters. He looks prosperous. He has 
 
 on a loud check suit. He wears a red tie and a peaked 
 
 cap. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 The Master wants to speak to you, Tournour. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 What Master. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 The boss, Tournour, the boss. 
 
192 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 MUSIy^ERRY 
 
 I want you, and that's enough for you, Tournour. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 I suppose you don't know, grandpapa, that Tournour 
 has a middling high position in the Poorhouse now. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 What are you saying? 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 Tournour is Ward-master now. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I wasn't given any notice of that. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 Eh, Tournour — 
 
 "The Devil went out for a ramble at night. 
 
 Through Garrisowen Union to see every sight. 
 
 He saw Felix Tournour — 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 "He saw one in comfort, of that you'll be sure. 
 
 With his back to the fire stands Felix Tournour." 
 \^He puts his back to fire. 
 
 ALBERT 
 
 Well, so-long, gents. (He goes out by shop door) 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Let me see you, Tournour. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 I'm plain to be seen. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Who recommended you for Ward-master? 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 Them that had the power. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I would not have done it, Tournour. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 193 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 No. And still, d'ye see, I'm up and not down. Well, 
 I'll be going. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Come back here, Tournour. I made it a rule that no 
 Ward-master should let drink be brought in to the 
 paupers. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 It's a pity you're not Master still! 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 What are you saying? 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 It's a pity that you're not still the Master over us. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Tournour, you're forgetting yourself. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 Well, maybe you are still the Master. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 How dare you speak to me with such effrontery? How 
 dare you? 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 I dunno. I'm going away now, if your honour 
 has nothing more to say to me. {He turns to go) 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 You shall not. You shall not, I say. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 What? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 You shall not go away until you've apologised to me. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 Don't be talking, Thomas Muskerry. You're not 
 Master over me. 
 
194 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Not the Master over you? 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 No. There's an end to your sway, Mr. Muskerry. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Go out of the house. No, stay here. You think I'm 
 out of the Workhouse. No. That's not so. I've 
 claims, great claims, on it still. Not for nothing was 
 I there for thirty years, the pattern for the oflBcials of 
 Ireland. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 Twenty-nine years, I'm telling you. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 The Guardians will take account of me. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 And maybe they would, too. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 What's that you're saying? 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 The Guardians might take an account of Thomas 
 Muskerry in a way he mightn't like. {He goes to door) 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Come back here, Felix Tournour. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 I'm not your sub-servant. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Stand here before me. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 You and your before me! Your back to heaven and 
 your belly to hell. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Go away. Go away out of this. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 195 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 Don't try to down-face me. I know something about 
 you. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 About me! 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 Aye, you and your fifty tons of coal. {Muskerry goes 
 hack from him) Great claims on the Workhouse have 
 you. The Guardians will take account of you. Will 
 they? Talk to them about the fifty tons of coal. Go 
 and do that, my pattern of the officials of Ireland! 
 \_Tournour goes out by shop. Muskerry stands with 
 his hands on the arm chair. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 This minute I'll go down to the Guardians and make 
 my complaint. (He notices his appearance) I'm 
 going about all day with my boots unlaced. I'm 
 falling into bad ways, bad, slovenly w\ays. And my 
 coat needs brushing, too. (He takes off his coat and 
 goes to window and brushes it) That's Myles Gorman 
 going back to the Workhouse. I couldn't walk with 
 my head held as high as that. In this house I am 
 losing my uprightness. I'll do more than lace my 
 boots and brush my coat. I'll go down to the Guard- 
 ians and I'll pay them back their fifty pounds. 
 l^Anna Crilly comes in froin left with a bowl of soup. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Here's your soup, grandpapa. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I can't take it now, Anna. (He puts on his coat) 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Are you going out, grandpapa? 
 
196 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I'm going before the meeting of the Board of Guardians. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Are you, grandpapa? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Yes, Anna, I am. I'm going to pay them back their 
 fifty pounds. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 And have you the fifty pounds? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Your mother has it for me. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Sit down, grandpapa, and take your soup. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 No, Anna, I won't take anything until ray mind is at 
 rest about the coal. A certain person has spoken to 
 me in a way I'll never submit to be spoken to again. 
 \^Mrs. Crilly comes in. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 What has happened to you? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Felix Tournour knows about the coal, Marianne. He 
 can disgrace me before the world. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 And grandpapa wants to go before the Guardians 
 and pay them back the fifty pounds. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Wait until we consult Mr. ScoUard. 
 
 \_Anna goes out. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 No, Marianne. I'm not going to be a party to this 
 any longer. I'm going before the Guardians, and I'll 
 pay them back their fifty pounds. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 197 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Fifty pounds. From what place is fifty pounds to 
 come so easily? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I'll ask you to give me the fifty pounds, Marianne. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I'll do no such thing. Anna is getting married, and 
 she claims her fortune. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Anna getting married. This was kept from me. And 
 who is Anna getting married to? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 To James Scollard. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 To James Scollard. And so Anna is getting married 
 to my successor, James Scollard. My successor. 
 How well I knew there was some such scheme behind 
 shifting me out of the Workhouse. And Anna Crilly 
 was against me all the time. Well, well, well. I'll 
 remember this. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I'm at great losses since you came here. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I'm at greater losses, Marianne. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 What losses are you at? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 The loss of my trust, the loss of my dignity, my self- 
 respect, and — 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I think we did all we could for you. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I'm going out now to pay back the Guardians the sum 
 
198 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 due to them from me. I want fifty pounds from you. 
 I claim it, and I have a right to claim it. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 We have no money at all. Listen. Crofton Crilly 
 backed a bill for James Covey, and three hundred 
 pounds has been taken from our account. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Three hundred pounds! 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Yes. Three hundred pounds. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 He backed a bill for three hundred pounds. And do 
 you think, Marianne Crilly, there can be any luck, 
 in a house where such a thing could happen? I tell 
 you there is no luck nor grace in your house. {He puts 
 on his hat and goes to cupboard to get his stick. He 
 opens the clipboard. He turns round) 
 MUSKERRY (greatly moved) 
 
 My God, my God. I'm made cry at the things that 
 happen in this house. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 What is it? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 The good meat I brought in. There it is on the floor 
 and the cat mangling it. I'll go out of this house, 
 and I'll never put foot into it again. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 And where will you go? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I'll go before the Board of Guardians and I'll ask 
 them to provide for me. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 What do you want me to do for you? 
 
THOISIAS MUSKERRY 199 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Give me fifty pounds, so that I can pay them off now. 
 
 MRS, CRILLY 
 
 Haven't I told you the way I'm straitened for money? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 You have still in the bank what would save my name. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Don't be unreasonable. I have to provide for my 
 children. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Your children. Yes, you have to provide for your 
 children. I provided for them long enough. And 
 now you would take my place, my honour, and my 
 self-respect, and provide for them over again. {He 
 goes out) 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I'll have to put up with this, too. 
 \^Anna re-enters. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Where has he gone, mother? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 He has gone down to the Workhouse. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 What is he going to do, mother? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 He says he will ask the Guardians to provide for him. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 It's not likely they'll do that for a man with a pension 
 of fifty pounds a year. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I don't know what will happen to us. 
 
 ANNA 
 
 He'll come back, mother. 
 
200 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 He will. But everything will have been made public, 
 and the money will have to be paid. 
 
 ANNA (at the window) 
 
 There he is going down the street, mother. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Which way? 
 
 ANNA 
 
 Towards the Workhouse. And here's the doctor's 
 daughter coming into the shop again, mother. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I'll go out and see her myself. {As she goes out she 
 hands Anna a cheque) That's the last cheque I'll be 
 able to make out. There's your eighty pounds, 
 Anna. (She goes into the shop) 
 
 ANNA 
 
 We can begin to get the furniture now. 
 
 \^She sits doivn at the tabic 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 ex- 
 pectant look on his face. 
 
 Thomas Muskerry enters from corridor. He wears his 
 own clothes, but he has let them get into disorder. His 
 hair and beard are disordered, and he seems very much 
 broken down. Nevertheless, he looks as if his mind 
 were composed. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 It's dark in here, Michael. 
 
 CRIPES 
 
 It is, sir. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I find it very spiritless after coming up from the 
 chapel. Don't pass your whole day here. Go down 
 into the yard. (He stands before the loindow) This 
 is the first fine day, and you ought to go out along 
 
202 THOIVIAS MUSKERRY 
 
 the country road. Ask the Master for leave. It's 
 the month of May, and you'll be glad of the sight of 
 the grass and the smell of the bushes. Now here's a 
 remarkable thing. I venture to think that the like 
 of this has never happened before. Here are the 
 bees swarming at the window pane. 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 You'll hear my pipes on the road to-day. That's as 
 sure as the right hand is on my body. {He goes out 
 by corridor door) 
 
 CRIPES 
 
 Myles Gorman must have been glad to hear that 
 buzzing. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Why was Myles glad to hear it? 
 
 SHANLEY 
 
 He was leaving on the first fine day. 
 
 CRIPES 
 
 The buzzing at the pane would let any one know 
 that the air is nice for a journey. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I am leaving to-day, myself. 
 
 CRIPES 
 
 And where are you going, Mr. Muskerry? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I'm going to a place of my own. 
 {^Muskerry goes into the Select Ward. 
 
 CRIPES 
 
 I'll tell you what brought Thomas Muskerry back 
 to the workhouse to be an inmate in it. Living in a 
 bad house. Living with his own. That's what 
 brought him back. And that's what left me here, 
 too. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 203 
 
 SHANLEY (listlessly) 
 
 The others have the flour, and we may hawk the bran. 
 \^An old pauper comes into the ward. His face looks 
 bleached. He has the handle of a sweeping-brush for a 
 staff. He moves about the ward, muttering to himself. 
 He seats himself on chair, right. 
 
 THE OLD MAN (speaking as if thinking aloud) 
 
 I was at twelve o'clock Mass. Now one o'clock 
 would be a late Mass, I was at Mass at one o'clock. 
 Wouldn't that be a long time to keep a priest, and 
 he fasting the whole time? 
 
 CRIPES 
 
 I'll tell you what Thomas Muskerry did when he left 
 the bad house he was in. (He puts coal on the fire) 
 
 THE OLD MAN 
 
 I was at one o'clock Mass in Skibbereen. I know 
 where Skibbereen is well. In the County Cork. Cork 
 is a big county. As big as Dublin and Wicklow. 
 That's where the people died when there was the 
 hunger. 
 
 CRIPES 
 
 He came before the meeting of the Guardians, and 
 he told them he owed them the whole of his year's 
 pension. Then he got some sort of a stroke, and he 
 broke down. And the Guardians gave him the Select 
 Ward there for himseK. 
 
 SHANLEY 
 
 They did well for him. 
 
 CRIPES 
 
 Why wouldn't they give him the Select Ward? It's 
 right that he'd get the little room, and not have to 
 make down the pauper's bed with the rest of us. 
 
204 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 SIIANLEY 
 
 He was at the altar to-day, and he stayed in the chapel 
 after Mass. 
 
 GRIPES 
 
 He'll be here shortly. 
 
 THE OLD MAN 
 
 Skibbereen! That's where the people died when there 
 was the hunger. Men and women without coffins, 
 or even their clothes off. Just buried. Skibbereen I 
 remember well, for I was a whole man then. And 
 the village. For there are people living in it yet. 
 They didn't all die. 
 
 SHANLEY 
 
 We'll have somebody else in the Select Ward this 
 evening. 
 
 GRIPES 
 
 That's what they were talking about. The nuns are 
 sending a patient up here. 
 
 SHANLEY 
 
 I suppose the Ward-master will be in here to regulate 
 the room. {He rises) 
 
 GRIPES 
 
 Aye, the Ward-master. Felix Tournour, the Ward- 
 master. You've come to your own place at last, Felix 
 Tournour. 
 
 SHANLEY 
 
 Felix Tournour will be coming the master over me if 
 he finds me here. {Shanley goes out) 
 
 GRIPES 
 
 FeUx Tournour ! That's the lad that will be coming in 
 with his head up like the gander that's after beating 
 down a child. 
 \_Christy Clarke enters. He carries a little portmanteau. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 205 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 Is Mr. Muskerry here? 
 
 CRIPES 
 
 He's in the room. (A sound of water splashing and the 
 movements of a heavy person are heard) Will you be 
 speaking with him, young fellow? 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 I will. 
 
 CRIPES 
 
 Tell him, like a good little boy, that the oul' men 
 would be under a favour to him if he left a bit of 
 tobacco. You won't forget that? 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 I won't forget it. 
 
 CRIPES 
 
 I don't want to be in the way of Felix Tournour. 
 We're going down to the yard, but we'll see Mr. 
 Muskerry when he's going away. 
 £Cripes goes out. 
 MUSKERRY (within) 
 
 Is that you, Christy Clarke? 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 It is, Mr. Muskerry. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Have you any news, Christy? 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 No news, except that my mother is in the cottage, and 
 is expecting you to-day. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I'll be in the cottage to-day, Christy. I'm cleaning 
 myself. (A sound of splashing and moving about) The 
 Guardians were good to get the little house for me. 
 I'd as lieve be there as in a mansion. There's about 
 
206 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 half an acre of land to the place, and I'll do work on 
 the ground from time to time, for it's a good thing 
 for a man to get the smell of the clay. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 And how are you in health, Mr. Muskerry? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I'm very well in health. I was anointed, you know, 
 and after that I mended miraculously. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 And what about the pension.'' 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I'm getting three hundred pounds. They asked me 
 to realize the pension. I hope I have life enough 
 before me. (He comes out. He has on trousers, coat, 
 and starched shirt. The shirt is soiled and crushed) 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 On Saturdays I'll do my marketing. I'll come into 
 the town, and I'll buy the bit of meat for my dinner 
 on Sunday. But what are you doing with this port- 
 manteau, Christy? 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 I'm going away myself. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 To a situation, is it? 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 To a situation in Dublin, 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I wish you luck, Christy, (He shakes hands with the 
 boy, and sits down on a chair) I was dreaming on new 
 things all last night. New shirts, new sheets, every- 
 thing new, 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 I want to be something. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 207 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 What do you want to be? 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 A writer. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 A writer of books, is it? 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 Yes, a writer of books. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Listen, now, and tell me do you hear anything. That's 
 the sound of bees swarming at the window. That's a 
 good augury for you, Christy. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 All life's before me. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Will you give heed to what I tell you? 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 I'll give heed to it, Mr. Muskerry. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Live a good life. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 I give heed to you. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Your mother had great hardship in rearing you. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 I know that, Mr. Muskerry, but now I'm able for the 
 world. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I wish success to all your efforts. Be very careful of 
 your personal appearance. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 I will, Mr. Muskerry. 
 
208 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Get yourself a new cravat before you leave the town. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 I'll get it. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I think I'd look better myself if I had a fresher shirt. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 I saw clean shirts of yours before the fire last night 
 in my mother's house. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I wish I could get one before I leave this place. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 Will I run off and get one for you? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Would you, Christy? Would it be too much trouble? 
 
 \_Muskerry rises. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 I'll go now. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 You're a very willing boy, Christy, and you're sure 
 to get on. {He goes to a little broken mirror on the icall) 
 I am white and loose of flesh, and that's not a good 
 sign with me, Christy. I'll tell you something. If 
 I were staying here to-night, it's the pauper's bed I'd 
 have to sleep on. 
 \_Mrs. Crilly comes to the door. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Well, I see you're making ready for your departure. 
 MUSKERRY {ivho htts become uneasy) 
 I am ready for my departure. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 And this young man has come for you, I suppose? 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 209 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 This young man is minding his own business. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 I'm going out now to get a shirt for the Master. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 A starched shirt, I suppose, Christy. Go down to 
 our house, and tell Mary to give you one of the shirts 
 that are folded up. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 The boy will go where he was bid go. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Oh, very well. Run, Christy, and do the message for 
 
 the Master. 
 
 [^Christy Clarke goes out. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I don't know what brought you here to-day. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Well, I wanted to see you. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 You could come to see me when I was settled down. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Settled in the cottage the Guardians have given you? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Yes, ma'am. 
 MRS. CRILLY (with nervous excitement, restrained) 
 No one of us will ever go near the place. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Well, you'll please yourself. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 You put a slight on us all when you go there to live. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Well, I've lived with you to my own loss. 
 
210 THOIVIAS ^lUSKERRY 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Our house is the best house in the town, and I'm 
 the nearest person to you. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Say nothing more about that. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Well, maybe you do right not to live with us, but 
 you ought not to forsake us altogether. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 And what do you mean by forsaking you altogether.? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 When you leave the place and do not even turn your 
 step in our direction it's a sign to all who want to 
 know that you forsake us altogether. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 What do you want me to do? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Come up to Cross Street with me, have dinner and 
 spend the night with us. People would have less 
 to talk about if you did that. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 You always have a scheme. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Come to us for this evening itself. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I wish you wouldn't trouble me, woman. Can't you 
 see that when I go out of this I want to go to my own 
 place? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 You can go there to-morrow. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Preparations are made for me. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 211 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 You don't know what preparations. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Two pounds of the best beef-steak were ordered to 
 be sent up to-day. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I wouldn't trust that woman, Mrs. Clarke, to cook 
 potatoes. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Well, I'll trust her, ma'am. 
 MRS. CRILLY {taldng Muskerry's sleeve) 
 Don't go to-day, anyway. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 You're very anxious to get me to come with you. 
 What do you want from me? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 We want nothing from you. You know how insecure 
 our business is. When it's known in the town that 
 you forsake us, everybody will close in on us. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 God knows I did everything that a man could do for 
 you and yours. I won't forget you. I haven't much 
 life left to me, and I want to live to myself. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I know. Sure I lie awake at night, too tired to sleep, 
 and long to get away from the things that are pressing 
 in on me. I know that people are glad of their own 
 way, and glad to live in the way that they like. When 
 I heard the birds stirring I cried to be away in some 
 place where I won't hear the thing that's always 
 knocking at my head. The business has to be minded, 
 and it's slipping away from us like water. And 
 listen, if my confinement comes on me and I worried 
 
212 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 as I was last year, nothing can save me. I'll die, 
 surely. 
 MUSKERRY (moved) 
 
 What more do you want me to do? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Stay with us for a while, so that we'll have the name 
 of your support. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I'll come back to you in a week. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 That wouldn't do at all. There's a reason for what 
 I ask. The town must know that you are with us 
 from the time you leave this. 
 MUSKERRY {with emotion) 
 
 God help me with you all, and God direct me what to 
 do. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 It's not in you to let us down. 
 
 \_Muskerry turns away. His head is bent. Mrs. 
 
 Crilly goes to him. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Will you never be done taking from me? I want to 
 leave this and go to a place of my own. 
 {_Muskerry 'puts his hand to his eyes. When he lowers 
 his hand again Mrs. Crilly lays hers in it. Christy 
 Clarke comes in. Muskerry turns to him. Muskerry 
 has been crying. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Well, Christy, I'll be sending you back on another 
 
 message. 
 
 [^Mrs. Crilly makes a sign to Christy not to speak. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Go to your mother and tell her — 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 213 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 I met my mother outside. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Did she get the things that were sent to her? 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 My mother was sent away from the cottage. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Who sent your mother away from the cottage? 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 Mrs. Crilly sent her away. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 And why did you do that, ma'am? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I sent Mary to help to prepare the place for you, and 
 the woman was impertinent to Mary — 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Well, ma'am? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I sent the woman away. 
 
 MUSKERRY 4 
 
 And so you take it on yourself to dispose of the ser- 
 vants in my house? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I daresay you'll take the woman's part against my 
 daughter. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 No, ma'am, I'll take no one's side, but I'll tell you 
 this. I want my own life, and I won't be interfered 
 with. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I'm sorry for what occurred, and I'll apologise to the 
 boy's mother if you like. 
 
214 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I won't be interfered with, I tell you. From this day 
 out I'm free of my own life. And now, Christy 
 Clarke, go down stairs and tell the Master, Mr. 
 Scollard, that I want to see him. 
 \_Christy Clarke goes out. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I may as well tell you something else. None of the 
 things you ordered were sent up to the cottage. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Do you tell me that? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I went round to the shop, and everything you ordered 
 was sent to us. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 And what is the meaning of that, ma'am? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 If the town knew you were going from us, in a week 
 we would have to put up the shutters. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Well, I'll walk out of this, and when I come to the 
 road I'll go my own way. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 We can't prevent you. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 No, ma'am, you can't prevent me. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 You've got your discharge, I suppose? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I've given three hours' notice, and I'll get my dis- 
 charge now. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 215 
 
 MRS. CRiLLY (at corridoT door) 
 
 We can't prevent you going if you have the doctor's 
 discharge. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 The doctor's discharge! He would have given it to 
 me — 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 You can't leave without the doctor's sanction. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Out of this house I will go to-day. 
 
 \^James Scollard enters. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 I believe you want to see me, Mr. Muskerry, 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I do, Mr. Scollard. I am leaving the house. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 I will be glad to take up the necessary formalities 
 for you, Mr. Muskerry. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 First of all, has the doctor marked my father off the 
 infirmary list? 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 No, Mrs. Crilly. Now that I recall the list, he has 
 not. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I waited after Mass to-day, and I missed seeing him. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 My father was seriously ill only a short time ago, 
 and I do not believe he is in a fit state to leave the 
 infirmary. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 That certainly has to be considered. Without the 
 doctor explicitly sending you down to the body of 
 
216 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 the house you are hardly under my jurisdiction, Mr. 
 Muskerry. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Mr. Scollard, I ask you to give me leave to go out of 
 the Workhouse for a day. You can do this on your 
 own responsibility. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 In the present state of his mind it's not likely he 
 would return to-night. Then if anything happened 
 him your situation is at stake. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I'm not a pauper. I'll go out of this to-day without 
 leave or license from any of you. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 As you know yourself, Mr. Muskerry, it would be 
 as much as my situation is worth to let you depart 
 in that way. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Well, go I will. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 I cannot permit it, Mr. Muskerry. I say it with 
 the greatest respect. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 How long will you keep me here? 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 Until the doctor visits the house. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 That will be on Monday morning. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 And this is Saturday, Mr. Muskerry. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 And where will you put me until Monday? 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 217 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 Other arrangements will be made for you. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 It's the pauper's bed you would give me! 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 The old arrangements will continue. Can I do any- 
 thing further for you, Mr. Muskerry? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 No, you can do nothing further for me. It's a 
 great deal you have done for me! It's the pau- 
 per's bed you have given me! {He goes into the 
 Select Ward) 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Sit down, Mr. Scollard. I want to speak to you. 
 \_Mrs. Crilly seats herself at the table. Scollard sits down 
 also. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 The bank manager is in the town to-day, and there are 
 people waiting to tell him whether my father goes to 
 our house or goes away from us. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 No doubt there are, Mrs. Crilly. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 But you have nothing to do with that, Mr. Scollard. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 No, Mrs. Crilly. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 I have my own battle to fight, and a hard battle it is. 
 I have to make bits of myself to mind everything and 
 be prepared for everything. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 No doubt, Mrs. Crilly. 
 
218 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 There are people who will blame me, but they cannot 
 see into my mind. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 Will you come down to the parlour, Mrs. Crilly? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Yes, I'll go down. 
 
 l^She remains seated, looking out steadily before her. 
 Myles Gorman comes in. He is dressed in his own 
 clothes, 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 Well, Gorman, what brings you back to the ward? 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 I just want to do something to my pipes, Master. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 Very well, Gorman. You have your discharge, and 
 you are free to leave. 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 Oh, in a while I'll be taking the road. 
 
 \_He seats himself at the fire and begins to fix the bag of 
 
 his pipes. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 Now, Mrs. Crilly, come down to the parlour. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Yes. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 Anna is waiting to see you. 
 MRS. CRILLY (rising) 
 
 He will be well cared for here. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 He will, Mrs. Crilly. I will give him all attention. 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 219 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 He expected to be in a different place to-day, but 
 delay does little harm. 
 
 SCOLLARD 
 
 Come down to the parlour, Mrs. Crilly, and drink a 
 glass of wine with us. 
 
 \_They go out. The door of the Select Ward opens, and 
 Thomas Muskerry appears. He has got a stroke. His 
 breathing makes a noise in his mouth. As he moves he 
 lags somewhat at the right knee. He carries his right 
 hand at his breast. He moves slowly across ward. Felix 
 Tournour enters, carrying a bunch of keys. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 And where are you going? 
 MUSKERRY {in a thickened voice) 
 
 Ow — out. (Motioning with left hand. He moves 
 across ward, and goes out on door of corridor) 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 Well, you're not getting back to your snuggery, my 
 oul' cod. (He goes into the Select Ward and begins to 
 pitch Muskerry's belongings into the outer ward. First 
 of all come the pillows and clothes off the bed) And 
 there's your holy picture, and there's your holy book. 
 (He comes out holding another book in official binding. 
 He opens it and reads) "Marianne, born May the 
 20th, 1870." (He turns back some pages and reads) 
 Thomas Muskerry wrote this, 1850 — 
 "In the pleasant month of May, 
 
 When the lambkins sport and play, 
 As I roved out for recreation, 
 
 I spied a comely maid. 
 
 Sequestered in the shade, 
 And on her beauty I gazed in admiration. 
 
220 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 "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 delib- 
 erately, turns the key and holds the key in his hand. 
 
 TOURNOUR 
 
 You have no more to do with your snug little ward, 
 
 Mr. Muskerry. (He puts the key on his bunch and 
 
 goes out) 
 MUSKERRY (muttering with slack lips and cheeks) 
 
 It's — it's — the pau — pauper's bed they've given 
 
 me. 
 GORMAN (turning round his face) 
 
 Who's there.? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 It's — it's — Thomas Muskerry. 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 Is that the Master? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 It's — it's the pauper's bed they've given me. 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 Can I give you any hand. Master? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 I'll want to make — the bed. Give me a hand to 
 make the bed. (Gorman comes over to him) My own 
 sheet and blanket is here. I needn't lie on a pauper's 
 sheet. Whose bed is this? 
 
THOISIAS IVIUSKERRY 221 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 It's the middle bed, Master. It's my own bed. 
 
 MUSKERRY (helplessly) 
 
 What bed will I take, then? 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 My bed. I won't be here. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 And where are you going? 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 I'm leaving the house this day. I'll be going on the 
 roads. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Myles — Myles Gorman. The man that was without 
 family or friends. Myles Gorman. Help me to lay 
 down the mattress. Where will you sleep to-night, 
 Myles Gorman? 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 At Mrs. Muirnan's, a house between this and the 
 town of Ballinagh. I haven't the money to pay, but 
 she'll give me the place for to-night. Now, Master, 
 I'll spread the sheet for you. 
 \_They spread the sheet on the bed. 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Can you go down the stairs, Myles Gorman? I tried 
 to^et down the stairs and my legs failed me. 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 One of the men will lead me down. 
 MUSKERRY {resting his hand on the bed and standing up) 
 Sure one of the men will lead me down the stairs, too. 
 \^Myles Gorman spreads blanket on bed. He stands up, 
 takes pipes, and is ready to go out. Muskerry becomes 
 more feeble. He puts himself on the bed. 
 
222 THOMAS MUSKERRY 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Myles — Myles Gorman — come back. 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 What will I do for you, Master? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Say a prayer for me. 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 What prayer will I say, Master? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 Say "God be good to Thomas Muskerry." 
 GORMAN (taking off his hat) 
 
 "God be good to Thomas Muskerry, the man who 
 was good to the poor." Is that all. Master? 
 
 MUSKERRY 
 
 That's — that's all. 
 [^Gorman goes to the door. 
 
 GORMAN 
 
 In a little while you'll hear my pipes on the road. 
 \^He goes out. There is the sound of heavy breathing from 
 the bed. Then silence. The old pauper with the staff 
 enters. He is crossing the ward when his attention is 
 taken by the humming of the bees at the window pane. 
 He listens for a moment. 
 
 THE OLD PAUPER 
 
 A bright day, and the clay on their faces. That's 
 what I saw. And we used to be coming from Mass 
 and going to the coursing match. The hare flying 
 and the dogs stretching after her up the hill. Fine 
 dogs and fine men. I saw them all, 
 {^Christy Clarke comes in. He goes to table for his bag. 
 He sees the figure on the bed, and goes over. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 I'm going now, Mister Muskerry. Mister Muskerry! 
 
THOMAS MUSKERRY 223 
 
 _ ii . 
 
 Mister Muskerry ! Oh! the Master is dead. {Reruns 
 hack to the door) Mrs. Crilly. Mrs. Crilly. {He goes 
 hack to the hed, and throws himself on his knees) Oh! 
 I'm sorry you're gone, Thomas Muskerry. 
 
 THE OLD PAUPER 
 
 And is he gone home, too! And the bees humming 
 
 and all! He was the best of them. Each of his 
 
 brothers could lift up their plough and carry it to 
 
 the other side of the field. Four of them could clear a 
 
 fair. But their fields were small and poor, and so they 
 
 scattered. 
 
 l^Mrs. Crilly comes in. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 Christy Clarke, what is it-f* 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 The Master is dead. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 My God, my God! 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 Will I go and tell them below? 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 No. Bring no one here yet. We killed him. When 
 everything is known that will be known. 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 I'll never forget him, I think. 
 
 MRS. CRILLY 
 
 What humming is that? 
 
 CHRISTY 
 
 The bees at the window pane. And there's Myles 
 Gorman's pipes on the road. 
 [_The clear call of the pipes is heard. 
 
 END OF PLAY 
 
"Thomas Muskerry" was first produced on May 5th, 
 1910, by the Abbey Theater Company, at the Abbey 
 Theater, Dubhn, with the following cast: — 
 
 Thomas Muskerry Arthur Sinclair 
 
 Mrs. Crilly Sara Allgood 
 
 Crofton Crilly J. M. Kerrigan 
 
 Albert Crilly Eric Gorman 
 
 Anna Crilly Maire O'Neill 
 
 Myles Gorman Fred O'Donovan 
 
 Felix Tournour Sydney Morgan 
 
 James Scollard J. A. O'Rourke 
 
 Christy Clarke U. Wright 
 
 MiCKiE Cripes Fred Rowland 
 
 Tom Shanley Ambrose Power 
 
 An Old Pauper J. M. Kerrigan 
 
Deacidified using the Bookkeeper proci 
 Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
 Treatment Date; June 2009 
 
 PreservationTechnologie 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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