The twilight has fallen and
gradually
darkens
as the scene goes on.
as the scene goes on.
Yeats
_
Yet stay an instant. When we meet again
I may have grown forgetful. Oona, take
These two--the larder and the dairy keys.
[_To THE OLD PEASANT. _] But take you this. It opens the small room
Of herbs for medicine, of hellebore,
Of vervain, monkshood, plantain, and self-heal
And all the others; and the book of cures
Is on the upper shelf. You understand,
Because you doctored goats and cattle once.
THE OLD PEASANT.
Why do you do this, lady--did you see
Your coffin in a dream?
CATHLEEN.
Ah, no, not that,
A sad resolve wakes in me. I have heard
A sound of wailing in unnumbered hovels,
And I must go down, down, I know not where.
Pray for the poor folk who are crazed with famine;
Pray, you good neighbours.
[_The peasants all kneel. The COUNTESS CATHLEEN ascends
the steps to the door of the oratory, and, turning
round, stands there motionless for a little, and then
cries in a loud voice. _]
Mary, queen of angels,
And all you clouds on clouds of saints, farewell!
ACT IV.
_The cabin of SHEMUS RUA. The TWO MERCHANTS are sitting
one at each end of the table, with rolls of parchment
and many little heaps of gold before them. Through an
open door, at the back, one sees into an inner room, in
which there is a bed. On the bed is the body of MAIRE
with candles about it. _
FIRST MERCHANT.
The woman may keep robbing us no more,
For there are only mice now in her coffers.
SECOND MERCHANT.
Last night, closed in the image of an owl,
I hurried to the cliffs of Donegal,
And saw, creeping on the uneasy surge,
Those ships that bring the woman grain and meal;
They are five days from us.
FIRST MERCHANT.
I hurried East,
A gray owl flitting, flitting in the dew,
And saw nine hundred oxen toil through Meath
Driven on by goads of iron; they, too, brother,
Are full five days from us.
SECOND MERCHANT.
Five days for traffic.
[_While they have been speaking the peasants have come
in, led by TEIG and SHEMUS, who take their stations,
one on each side of the door, and keep them marshalled
into rude order and encourage them from time to time
with gestures and whispered words. _
Here throng they; since the drouth they go in throngs,
Like autumn leaves blown by the dreary winds.
Come, deal--come, deal.
FIRST MERCHANT.
Who will come deal with us?
SHEMUS.
They are out of spirit, sir, with lack of food,
Save four or five. Here, sir, is one of these;
The others will gain courage in good time.
A MIDDLE-AGED MAN.
I come to deal if you give honest price.
FIRST MERCHANT.
[_Reading in a parchment. _]
John Maher, a man of substance, with dull mind,
And quiet senses and unventurous heart.
The angels think him safe. Two hundred crowns,
All for a soul, a little breath of wind.
THE MAN.
I ask three hundred crowns. You have read there,
That no mere lapse of days can make me yours.
FIRST MERCHANT.
There is something more writ here--often at night
He is wakeful from a dread of growing poor.
There is this crack in you--two hundred crowns.
[_THE MAN takes them and goes. _
SECOND MERCHANT.
Come, deal--one would half think you had no souls.
If only for the credit of your parishes,
Come, deal, deal, deal, or will you always starve?
Maire, the wife of Shemus, would not deal,
She starved--she lies in there with red wallflowers,
And candles stuck in bottles round her bed.
A WOMAN.
What price, now, will you give for mine?
FIRST MERCHANT.
Ay, ay,
Soft, handsome, and still young--not much, I think.
[_Reading in the parchment. _
She has love letters in a little jar
On the high shelf between the pepper-pot
And wood-cased hour-glass.
THE WOMAN.
O, the scandalous parchment!
FIRST MERCHANT [_reading_].
She hides them from her husband, who buys horses,
And is not much at home. You are almost safe.
I give you fifty crowns. [_She turns to go. _
A hundred, then.
[_She takes them, and goes into the crowd. _
Come--deal, deal, deal; it is for charity
We buy such souls at all; a thousand sins
Made them our master's long before we came.
Come, deal--come, deal. You seem resolved to starve
Until your bones show through your skin. Come, deal,
Or live on nettles, grass, and dandelion.
Or do you dream the famine will go by?
The famine is hale and hearty; it is mine
And my great master's; it shall no wise cease
Until our purpose end: the yellow vapour
That brought it bears it over your dried fields
And fills with violent phantoms of the lost,
And grows more deadly as day copies day.
See how it dims the daylight. Is that peace
Known to the birds of prey so dread a thing?
They, and the souls obedient to our master,
And those who live with that great other spirit
Have gained an end, a peace, while you but toss
And swing upon a moving balance beam.
[_ALEEL enters; the wires of his harp are broken. _
ALEEL.
Here, take my soul, for I am tired of it;
I do not ask a price.
FIRST MERCHANT [_reading_].
A man of songs:
Alone in the hushed passion of romance,
His mind ran all on sidheoges and on tales
Of Fenian labours and the Red Branch kings,
And he cared nothing for the life of man:
But now all changes.
ALEEL.
Ay, because her face,
The face of Countess Cathleen, dwells with me:
The sadness of the world upon her brow:
The crying of these strings grew burdensome,
Therefore I tore them; see; now take my soul.
FIRST MERCHANT.
We cannot take your soul, for it is hers.
ALEEL.
Ah, take it; take it. It nowise can help her,
And, therefore, do I tire of it.
FIRST MERCHANT.
No; no.
We may not touch it.
ALEEL.
Is your power so small,
Must I then bear it with me all my days?
May scorn close deep about you!
FIRST MERCHANT.
Lead him hence;
He troubles me.
[_TEIG and SHEMUS lead ALEEL into the crowd. _
SECOND MERCHANT.
His gaze has filled me, brother,
With shaking and a dreadful fear.
FIRST MERCHANT.
Lean forward
And kiss the circlet where my master's lips
Were pressed upon it when he sent us hither:
You will have peace once more.
[_The SECOND MERCHANT kisses the gold circlet that is
about the head of the FIRST MERCHANT. _
SHEMUS.
He is called Aleel,
And has been crazy now these many days;
But has no harm in him: his fits soon pass,
And one can go and lead him like a child.
FIRST MERCHANT.
Come, deal, deal, deal, deal, deal; you are all dumb?
SHEMUS.
They say you beat the woman down too low.
FIRST MERCHANT.
I offer this great price: a thousand crowns
For an old woman who was always ugly.
[_An old peasant woman comes forward, and he takes up a parchment and
reads. _]
There is but little set down here against her;
She stole fowl sometimes when the harvest failed,
But always went to chapel twice a week,
And paid her dues when prosperous. Take your money.
THE OLD PEASANT WOMAN [_curtseying_].
God bless you, sir. [_She screams. _
O, sir, a pain went through me.
FIRST MERCHANT.
That name is like a fire to all damned souls.
Begone. [_She goes. _] See how the red gold pieces glitter.
Deal: do you fear because an old hag screamed?
Are you all cowards?
A PEASANT.
Nay, I am no coward.
I will sell half my soul.
FIRST MERCHANT.
How half your soul?
THE PEASANT.
Half my chance of heaven.
FIRST MERCHANT.
It is writ here
This man in all things takes the moderate course,
He sits on midmost of the balance beam,
And no man has had good of him or evil.
Begone, we will not buy you.
SECOND MERCHANT.
Deal, come, deal.
FIRST MERCHANT.
What, will you keep us from our ancient home,
And from the eternal revelry? Come, deal,
And we will hence to our great master again.
Come, deal, deal, deal.
THE PEASANTS SHOUT.
The Countess Cathleen comes!
CATHLEEN [_entering_].
And so you trade once more?
FIRST MERCHANT.
In spite of you.
What brings you here, saint with the sapphire eyes?
CATHLEEN.
I come to barter a soul for a great price.
FIRST MERCHANT.
What matter if the soul be worth the price?
CATHLEEN.
The people starve, therefore the people go
Thronging to you. I hear a cry come from them,
And it is in my ears by night and day;
And I would have five hundred thousand crowns,
That I may feed them till the dearth go by;
And have the wretched spirits you have bought
For your gold crowns released and sent to God.
The soul that I would barter is my soul.
A PEASANT.
Do not, do not; the souls of us poor folk
Are not precious to God as your soul is.
O! what would heaven do without you, lady?
ANOTHER PEASANT.
Look how their claws clutch in their leathern gloves.
FIRST MERCHANT.
Five hundred thousand crowns; we give the price,
The gold is here; the spirits, while you speak,
Begin to labour upward, for your face
Sheds a great light on them and fills their hearts
With those unveilings of the fickle light,
Whereby our heavy labours have been marred
Since first His spirit moved upon the deeps
And stole them from us; even before this day
The souls were but half ours, for your bright eyes
Had pierced them through and robbed them of content.
But you must sign, for we omit no form
In buying a soul like yours; sign with this quill;
It was a feather growing on the cock
That crowed when Peter dared deny his Master,
And all who use it have great honour in Hell.
[_CATHLEEN leans forward to sign. _
ALEEL.
[_Rushing forward and snatching the parchment from her. _]
Leave all things to the builder of the heavens.
CATHLEEN.
I have no thoughts: I hear a cry--a cry.
ALEEL.
[_Casting the parchment on the ground. _]
I had a vision under a green hedge,
A hedge of hips and haws--men yet shall hear
The archangels rolling Satan's empty skull
Over the mountain-tops.
FIRST MERCHANT.
Take him away.
[_TEIG and SHEMUS drag him roughly away so that he
falls upon the floor among the peasants. CATHLEEN picks
up the parchment and signs, and then turns towards the
peasants. _
CATHLEEN.
Take up the money; and now come with me.
When we are far from this polluted place
I will give everybody money enough.
[_She goes out, the peasants crowding round her and
kissing her dress. ALEEL and the TWO MERCHANTS are left
alone. _
SECOND MERCHANT.
Now are our days of heavy labour done.
FIRST MERCHANT.
We have a precious jewel for Satan's crown.
SECOND MERCHANT.
We must away, and wait until she dies,
Sitting above her tower as two gray owls,
Watching as many years as may be, guarding
Our precious jewel; waiting to seize her soul.
FIRST MERCHANT.
We need but hover over her head in the air,
For she has only minutes: when she came
I saw the dimness of the tomb in her,
And marked her walking as with leaden shoes
And looking on the ground as though the worms
Were calling her, and when she wrote her name
Her heart began to break. Hush! hush! I hear
The brazen door of Hell move on its hinges,
And the eternal revelry float hither
To hearten us.
SECOND MERCHANT.
Leap, feathered, on the air
And meet them with her soul caught in your claws.
[_They rush out. ALEEL crawls into the middle of the
room.
The twilight has fallen and gradually darkens
as the scene goes on. There is a distant muttering of
thunder and a sound of rising storm. _
ALEEL.
The brazen door stands wide, and Balor comes
Borne in his heavy car, and demons have lifted
The age-weary eyelids from the eyes that of old
Turned gods to stone; Barach the traitor comes;
And the lascivious race, Cailitin,
That cast a druid weakness and decay
Over Sualtam's and old Dectora's child;
And that great king Hell first took hold upon
When he killed Naisi and broke Deirdre's heart;
And all their heads are twisted to one side,
For when they lived they warred on beauty and peace
With obstinate, crafty, sidelong bitterness.
[_OONA enters, but remains standing by the door. ALEEL
half rises, leaning upon one arm and one knee. _]
Crouch down, old heron, out of the blind storm.
OONA.
Where is the Countess Cathleen? All this day
She has been pale and weakly: when her hand
Touched mine over the spindle her hand trembled,
And now I do not know where she has gone.
ALEEL.
Cathleen has chosen other friends than us,
And they are rising through the hollow world.
[_He points downwards. _
First, Orchil, her pale beautiful head alive,
Her body shadowy as vapour drifting
Under the dawn, for she who awoke desire
Has but a heart of blood when others die;
About her is a vapoury multitude
Of women, alluring devils with soft laughter;
Behind her a host heat of the blood made sin,
But all the little pink-white nails have grown
To be great talons.
[_He seizes OONA and drags her into the middle of the
room and points downwards with vehement gestures. The
wind roars. _]
They begin a song
And there is still some music on their tongues.
OONA.
[_Casting herself face downwards on the floor. _]
O maker of all, protect her from the demons,
And if a soul must needs be lost, take mine.
[_ALEEL kneels beside her, but does not seem to hear
her words; he is gazing down as if through the earth.
The peasants return. They carry the COUNTESS CATHLEEN
and lay her upon the ground before OONA and ALEEL. She
lies there as if dead. _]
O that so many pitchers of rough clay
Should prosper and the porcelain break in two!
[_She kisses the hands of the COUNTESS CATHLEEN. _
A PEASANT.
We were under the tree where the path turns
When she grew pale as death and fainted away,
And while we bore her hither, cloudy gusts
Blackened the world and shook us on our feet:
Draw the great bolt, for no man has beheld
So black, bitter, blinding, and sudden a storm.
[_One who is near the door draws the bolt. _
OONA.
Hush, hush, she has awakened from her swoon.
CATHLEEN.
O hold me, and hold me tightly, for the storm
Is dragging me away!
[_OONA takes her in her arms. A woman begins to wail. _
A PEASANT.
Hush.
ANOTHER PEASANT.
Hush.
A PEASANT WOMAN.
Hush.
ANOTHER PEASANT WOMAN.
Hush.
CATHLEEN [_half rising_].
Lay all the bags of money at my feet.
[_They lay the bags at her feet. _
And send and bring old Neal when I am dead,
And bid him hear each man and judge and give:
He doctors you with herbs, and can best say
Who has the less and who the greater need.
A PEASANT WOMAN.
[_At the back of the crowd. _]
And will he give enough out of the bags
To keep my children till the dearth go by?
ANOTHER PEASANT WOMAN.
O Queen of Heaven and all you blessed Saints,
Let us and ours be lost, so she be shriven.
CATHLEEN.
Bend down your faces, Oona and Aleel:
I gaze upon them as the swallow gazes
Upon the nest under the eave, before
He wander the loud waters: do not weep
Too great a while, for there is many a candle
On the high altar though one fall. Aleel,
Who sang about the people of the raths,
That know not the hard burden of the world,
Having but breath in their kind bodies, farewell!
And farewell, Oona, who spun flax with me
Soft as their sleep when every dance is done:
The storm is in my hair and I must go.
[_She dies. _
OONA.
Bring me the looking-glass.
[_A woman brings it to her out of the inner room. OONA holds the glass
over the lips of the COUNTESS CATHLEEN. All is silent for a moment; and
then she speaks in a half scream. _]
O, she is dead!
A PEASANT WOMAN.
She was the great white lily of the world.
ANOTHER PEASANT WOMAN.
She was more beautiful than the pale stars.
AN OLD PEASANT WOMAN.
The little plant I loved is broken in two.
[_ALEEL takes the looking-glass from OONA and flings it
upon the floor so that it is broken in many pieces. _
ALEEL.
I shatter you in fragments, for the face
That brimmed you up with beauty is no more:
And die, dull heart, for she whose mournful words
Made you a living spirit has passed away
And left you but a ball of passionate dust;
And you, proud earth and plumy sea, fade out,
For you may hear no more her faltering feet,
But are left lonely amid the clamorous war
Of angels upon devils.
[_He stands up; almost everyone is kneeling, but it has grown so dark
that only confused forms can be seen. _]
And I who weep
Call curses on you, Time and Fate and Change,
And have no excellent hope but the great hour
When you shall plunge headlong through bottomless space.
[_A flash of lightning followed immediately by thunder. _
A PEASANT WOMAN.
Pull him upon his knees before his curses
Have plucked thunder and lightning on our heads.
ALEEL.
Angels and devils clash in the middle air,
And brazen swords clang upon brazen helms:
[_A flash of lightning followed immediately by thunder. _]
Yonder a bright spear, cast out of a sling,
Has torn through Balor's eye, and the dark clans
Fly screaming as they fled Moytura of old.
[_Everything is lost in darkness. _
AN OLD MAN.
The Almighty, wrath at our great weakness and sin,
Has blotted out the world and we must die.
[_The darkness is broken by a visionary light. The
peasants seem to be kneeling upon the rocky slope of a
mountain, and vapour full of storm and ever-changing
light is sweeping above them and behind them. Half in
the light, half in the shadow, stand armed Angels.
Their armour is old and worn, and their drawn swords
dim and dinted. They stand as if upon the air in
formation of battle and look downward with stern faces.
The peasants cast themselves on the ground. _
ALEEL.
Look no more on the half-closed gates of Hell,
But speak to me, whose mind is smitten of God,
That it may be no more with mortal things;
And tell of her who lies here.
[_He seizes one of the Angels. _] Till you speak
You shall not drift into eternity.
THE ANGEL.
The light beats down: the gates of pearl are wide,
And she is passing to the floor of peace,
And Mary of the seven times wounded heart
Has kissed her lips, and the long blessed hair
Has fallen on her face; the Light of Lights
Looks always on the motive, not the deed,
The Shadow of Shadows on the deed alone.
[_ALEEL releases the Angel and kneels. _
OONA.
Tell them who walk upon the floor of peace
That I would die and go to her I love;
The years like great black oxen tread the world,
And God the herdsman goads them on behind,
And I am broken by their passing feet.
[_A sound of far-off horns seems to come from the heart
of the light. The vision melts away, and the forms of
the kneeling peasants appear faintly in the darkness. _]
THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE
'O Rose, thou art sick. '--_William Blake. _
TO FLORENCE FARR
_PERSONS IN THE PLAY_
MAURTEEN BRUIN
SHAWN BRUIN
FATHER HART
BRIDGET BRUIN
MAIRE BRUIN
A FAERY CHILD
_The scene is laid in the Barony of Kilmacowen, in the County of Sligo,
and the characters are supposed to speak in Gaelic. They wear the
costume of a century ago. _
THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE
_The kitchen of MAURTEEN BRUIN'S house. An open grate
with a turf fire is at the left side of the room, with
a table in front of it. There is a door leading to the
open air at the back, and another door a little to its
left, leading into an inner room. There is a window, a
settle, and a large dresser on the right side of the
room, and a great bowl of primroses on the sill of
the window. MAURTEEN BRUIN, FATHER HART, and BRIDGET
BRUIN are sitting at the table. SHAWN BRUIN is setting
the table for supper. MAIRE BRUIN sits on the settle
reading a yellow manuscript. _
BRIDGET BRUIN.
Because I bade her go and feed the calves,
She took that old book down out of the thatch
And has been doubled over it all day.
We would be deafened by her groans and moans
Had she to work as some do, Father Hart,
Get up at dawn like me, and mend and scour;
Or ride abroad in the boisterous night like you,
The pyx and blessed bread under your arm.
SHAWN BRUIN.
You are too cross.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
The young side with the young.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
She quarrels with my wife a bit at times,
And is too deep just now in the old book,
But do not blame her greatly; she will grow
As quiet as a puff-ball in a tree
When but the moons of marriage dawn and die
For half a score of times.
FATHER HART.
Their hearts are wild
As be the hearts of birds, till children come.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
She would not mind the griddle, milk the cow,
Or even lay the knives and spread the cloth.
FATHER HART.
I never saw her read a book before;
What may it be?
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
I do not rightly know;
It has been in the thatch for fifty years.
My father told me my grandfather wrote it,
Killed a red heifer and bound it with the hide.
But draw your chair this way--supper is spread.
And little good he got out of the book,
Because it filled his house with roaming bards,
And roaming ballad-makers and the like,
And wasted all his goods. --Here is the wine:
The griddle bread's beside you, Father Hart.
Colleen, what have you got there in the book
That you must leave the bread to cool? Had I,
Or had my father, read or written books
There were no stocking full of silver and gold
To come, when I am dead, to Shawn and you.
FATHER HART.
You should not fill your head with foolish dreams.
What are you reading?
MAIRE BRUIN.
How a Princess Edain,
A daughter of a King of Ireland, heard
A voice singing on a May Eve like this,
And followed, half awake and half asleep,
Until she came into the land of faery,
Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,
Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise,
Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue;
And she is still there, busied with a dance,
Deep in the dewy shadow of a wood,
Or where stars walk upon a mountain-top.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
Persuade the colleen to put by the book:
My grandfather would mutter just such things,
And he was no judge of a dog or horse,
And any idle boy could blarney him:
Just speak your mind.
FATHER HART.
Put it away, my colleen.
God spreads the heavens above us like great wings,
And gives a little round of deeds and days,
And then come the wrecked angels and set snares,
And bait them with light hopes and heavy dreams,
Until the heart is puffed with pride and goes,
Half shuddering and half joyous, from God's peace:
And it was some wrecked angel, blind from tears,
Who flattered Edain's heart with merry words.
My colleen, I have seen some other girls
Restless and ill at ease, but years went by
And they grew like their neighbours and were glad
In minding children, working at the churn,
And gossiping of weddings and of wakes;
For life moves out of a red flare of dreams
Into a common light of common hours,
Until old age bring the red flare again.
SHAWN BRUIN.
Yet do not blame her greatly, Father Hart,
For she is dull while I am in the fields,
And mother's tongue were harder still to bear,
But for her fancies: this is May Eve too,
When the good people post about the world,
And surely one may think of them to-night.
Maire, have you the primroses to fling
Before the door to make a golden path
For them to bring good luck into the house?
Remember, they may steal new-married brides
After the fall of twilight on May Eve.
[_MAIRE BRUIN goes over to the window and takes flowers
from the bowl and strews them outside the door. _
FATHER HART.
You do well, daughter, because God permits
Great power to the good people on May Eve.
SHAWN BRUIN.
They can work all their will with primroses;
Change them to golden money, or little flames
To burn up those who do them any wrong.
MAIRE BRUIN [_in a dreamy voice_].
I had no sooner flung them by the door
Than the wind cried and hurried them away;
And then a child came running in the wind
And caught them in her hands and fondled them:
Her dress was green: her hair was of red gold;
Her face was pale as water before dawn.
FATHER HART.
Whose child can this be?
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
No one's child at all.
She often dreams that someone has gone by
When there was nothing but a puff of wind.
MAIRE BRUIN.
They will not bring good luck into the house,
For they have blown the primroses away;
Yet I am glad that I was courteous to them,
For are not they, likewise, children of God?
FATHER HART.
Colleen, they are the children of the Fiend,
And they have power until the end of Time,
When God shall fight with them a great pitched battle
And hack them into pieces.
MAIRE BRUIN.
He will smile,
Father, perhaps, and open His great door,
And call the pretty and kind into His house.
FATHER HART.
Did but the lawless angels see that door,
They would fall, slain by everlasting peace;
And when such angels knock upon our doors
Who goes with them must drive through the same storm.
[_A knock at the door. MAIRE BRUIN opens it and then
goes to the dresser and fills a porringer with milk and
hands it through the door and takes it back empty and
closes the door. _
MAIRE BRUIN.
A little queer old woman cloaked in green,
Who came to beg a porringer of milk.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
The good people go asking milk and fire
Upon May Eve. --Woe on the house that gives,
For they have power upon it for a year.
I knew you would bring evil on the house.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
Who was she?
MAIRE BRUIN.
Both the tongue and face were strange.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
Some strangers came last week to Clover Hill;
She must be one of them.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
I am afraid.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
The priest will keep all harm out of the house.
FATHER HART.
The cross will keep all harm out of the house
While it hangs there.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
Come, sit beside me, colleen,
And put away your dreams of discontent,
For I would have you light up my last days
Like a bright torch of pine, and when I die
I will make you the wealthiest hereabout:
For hid away where nobody can find
I have a stocking full of silver and gold.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
You are the fool of every pretty face,
And I must pinch and pare that my son's wife
May have all kinds of ribbons for her head.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
Do not be cross; she is a right good girl!
The butter is by your elbow, Father Hart.
My colleen, have not Fate and Time and Change
Done well for me and for old Bridget there?
We have a hundred acres of good land,
And sit beside each other at the fire,
The wise priest of our parish to our right,
And you and our dear son to left of us.
To sit beside the board and drink good wine
And watch the turf smoke coiling from the fire
And feel content and wisdom in your heart,
This is the best of life; when we are young
We long to tread a way none trod before,
But find the excellent old way through love
And through the care of children to the hour
For bidding Fate and Time and Change good-bye.
[_A knock at the door. MAIRE BRUIN opens it and then
takes a sod of turf out of the hearth in the tongs and
passes it through the door and closes the door and
remains standing by it.
Yet stay an instant. When we meet again
I may have grown forgetful. Oona, take
These two--the larder and the dairy keys.
[_To THE OLD PEASANT. _] But take you this. It opens the small room
Of herbs for medicine, of hellebore,
Of vervain, monkshood, plantain, and self-heal
And all the others; and the book of cures
Is on the upper shelf. You understand,
Because you doctored goats and cattle once.
THE OLD PEASANT.
Why do you do this, lady--did you see
Your coffin in a dream?
CATHLEEN.
Ah, no, not that,
A sad resolve wakes in me. I have heard
A sound of wailing in unnumbered hovels,
And I must go down, down, I know not where.
Pray for the poor folk who are crazed with famine;
Pray, you good neighbours.
[_The peasants all kneel. The COUNTESS CATHLEEN ascends
the steps to the door of the oratory, and, turning
round, stands there motionless for a little, and then
cries in a loud voice. _]
Mary, queen of angels,
And all you clouds on clouds of saints, farewell!
ACT IV.
_The cabin of SHEMUS RUA. The TWO MERCHANTS are sitting
one at each end of the table, with rolls of parchment
and many little heaps of gold before them. Through an
open door, at the back, one sees into an inner room, in
which there is a bed. On the bed is the body of MAIRE
with candles about it. _
FIRST MERCHANT.
The woman may keep robbing us no more,
For there are only mice now in her coffers.
SECOND MERCHANT.
Last night, closed in the image of an owl,
I hurried to the cliffs of Donegal,
And saw, creeping on the uneasy surge,
Those ships that bring the woman grain and meal;
They are five days from us.
FIRST MERCHANT.
I hurried East,
A gray owl flitting, flitting in the dew,
And saw nine hundred oxen toil through Meath
Driven on by goads of iron; they, too, brother,
Are full five days from us.
SECOND MERCHANT.
Five days for traffic.
[_While they have been speaking the peasants have come
in, led by TEIG and SHEMUS, who take their stations,
one on each side of the door, and keep them marshalled
into rude order and encourage them from time to time
with gestures and whispered words. _
Here throng they; since the drouth they go in throngs,
Like autumn leaves blown by the dreary winds.
Come, deal--come, deal.
FIRST MERCHANT.
Who will come deal with us?
SHEMUS.
They are out of spirit, sir, with lack of food,
Save four or five. Here, sir, is one of these;
The others will gain courage in good time.
A MIDDLE-AGED MAN.
I come to deal if you give honest price.
FIRST MERCHANT.
[_Reading in a parchment. _]
John Maher, a man of substance, with dull mind,
And quiet senses and unventurous heart.
The angels think him safe. Two hundred crowns,
All for a soul, a little breath of wind.
THE MAN.
I ask three hundred crowns. You have read there,
That no mere lapse of days can make me yours.
FIRST MERCHANT.
There is something more writ here--often at night
He is wakeful from a dread of growing poor.
There is this crack in you--two hundred crowns.
[_THE MAN takes them and goes. _
SECOND MERCHANT.
Come, deal--one would half think you had no souls.
If only for the credit of your parishes,
Come, deal, deal, deal, or will you always starve?
Maire, the wife of Shemus, would not deal,
She starved--she lies in there with red wallflowers,
And candles stuck in bottles round her bed.
A WOMAN.
What price, now, will you give for mine?
FIRST MERCHANT.
Ay, ay,
Soft, handsome, and still young--not much, I think.
[_Reading in the parchment. _
She has love letters in a little jar
On the high shelf between the pepper-pot
And wood-cased hour-glass.
THE WOMAN.
O, the scandalous parchment!
FIRST MERCHANT [_reading_].
She hides them from her husband, who buys horses,
And is not much at home. You are almost safe.
I give you fifty crowns. [_She turns to go. _
A hundred, then.
[_She takes them, and goes into the crowd. _
Come--deal, deal, deal; it is for charity
We buy such souls at all; a thousand sins
Made them our master's long before we came.
Come, deal--come, deal. You seem resolved to starve
Until your bones show through your skin. Come, deal,
Or live on nettles, grass, and dandelion.
Or do you dream the famine will go by?
The famine is hale and hearty; it is mine
And my great master's; it shall no wise cease
Until our purpose end: the yellow vapour
That brought it bears it over your dried fields
And fills with violent phantoms of the lost,
And grows more deadly as day copies day.
See how it dims the daylight. Is that peace
Known to the birds of prey so dread a thing?
They, and the souls obedient to our master,
And those who live with that great other spirit
Have gained an end, a peace, while you but toss
And swing upon a moving balance beam.
[_ALEEL enters; the wires of his harp are broken. _
ALEEL.
Here, take my soul, for I am tired of it;
I do not ask a price.
FIRST MERCHANT [_reading_].
A man of songs:
Alone in the hushed passion of romance,
His mind ran all on sidheoges and on tales
Of Fenian labours and the Red Branch kings,
And he cared nothing for the life of man:
But now all changes.
ALEEL.
Ay, because her face,
The face of Countess Cathleen, dwells with me:
The sadness of the world upon her brow:
The crying of these strings grew burdensome,
Therefore I tore them; see; now take my soul.
FIRST MERCHANT.
We cannot take your soul, for it is hers.
ALEEL.
Ah, take it; take it. It nowise can help her,
And, therefore, do I tire of it.
FIRST MERCHANT.
No; no.
We may not touch it.
ALEEL.
Is your power so small,
Must I then bear it with me all my days?
May scorn close deep about you!
FIRST MERCHANT.
Lead him hence;
He troubles me.
[_TEIG and SHEMUS lead ALEEL into the crowd. _
SECOND MERCHANT.
His gaze has filled me, brother,
With shaking and a dreadful fear.
FIRST MERCHANT.
Lean forward
And kiss the circlet where my master's lips
Were pressed upon it when he sent us hither:
You will have peace once more.
[_The SECOND MERCHANT kisses the gold circlet that is
about the head of the FIRST MERCHANT. _
SHEMUS.
He is called Aleel,
And has been crazy now these many days;
But has no harm in him: his fits soon pass,
And one can go and lead him like a child.
FIRST MERCHANT.
Come, deal, deal, deal, deal, deal; you are all dumb?
SHEMUS.
They say you beat the woman down too low.
FIRST MERCHANT.
I offer this great price: a thousand crowns
For an old woman who was always ugly.
[_An old peasant woman comes forward, and he takes up a parchment and
reads. _]
There is but little set down here against her;
She stole fowl sometimes when the harvest failed,
But always went to chapel twice a week,
And paid her dues when prosperous. Take your money.
THE OLD PEASANT WOMAN [_curtseying_].
God bless you, sir. [_She screams. _
O, sir, a pain went through me.
FIRST MERCHANT.
That name is like a fire to all damned souls.
Begone. [_She goes. _] See how the red gold pieces glitter.
Deal: do you fear because an old hag screamed?
Are you all cowards?
A PEASANT.
Nay, I am no coward.
I will sell half my soul.
FIRST MERCHANT.
How half your soul?
THE PEASANT.
Half my chance of heaven.
FIRST MERCHANT.
It is writ here
This man in all things takes the moderate course,
He sits on midmost of the balance beam,
And no man has had good of him or evil.
Begone, we will not buy you.
SECOND MERCHANT.
Deal, come, deal.
FIRST MERCHANT.
What, will you keep us from our ancient home,
And from the eternal revelry? Come, deal,
And we will hence to our great master again.
Come, deal, deal, deal.
THE PEASANTS SHOUT.
The Countess Cathleen comes!
CATHLEEN [_entering_].
And so you trade once more?
FIRST MERCHANT.
In spite of you.
What brings you here, saint with the sapphire eyes?
CATHLEEN.
I come to barter a soul for a great price.
FIRST MERCHANT.
What matter if the soul be worth the price?
CATHLEEN.
The people starve, therefore the people go
Thronging to you. I hear a cry come from them,
And it is in my ears by night and day;
And I would have five hundred thousand crowns,
That I may feed them till the dearth go by;
And have the wretched spirits you have bought
For your gold crowns released and sent to God.
The soul that I would barter is my soul.
A PEASANT.
Do not, do not; the souls of us poor folk
Are not precious to God as your soul is.
O! what would heaven do without you, lady?
ANOTHER PEASANT.
Look how their claws clutch in their leathern gloves.
FIRST MERCHANT.
Five hundred thousand crowns; we give the price,
The gold is here; the spirits, while you speak,
Begin to labour upward, for your face
Sheds a great light on them and fills their hearts
With those unveilings of the fickle light,
Whereby our heavy labours have been marred
Since first His spirit moved upon the deeps
And stole them from us; even before this day
The souls were but half ours, for your bright eyes
Had pierced them through and robbed them of content.
But you must sign, for we omit no form
In buying a soul like yours; sign with this quill;
It was a feather growing on the cock
That crowed when Peter dared deny his Master,
And all who use it have great honour in Hell.
[_CATHLEEN leans forward to sign. _
ALEEL.
[_Rushing forward and snatching the parchment from her. _]
Leave all things to the builder of the heavens.
CATHLEEN.
I have no thoughts: I hear a cry--a cry.
ALEEL.
[_Casting the parchment on the ground. _]
I had a vision under a green hedge,
A hedge of hips and haws--men yet shall hear
The archangels rolling Satan's empty skull
Over the mountain-tops.
FIRST MERCHANT.
Take him away.
[_TEIG and SHEMUS drag him roughly away so that he
falls upon the floor among the peasants. CATHLEEN picks
up the parchment and signs, and then turns towards the
peasants. _
CATHLEEN.
Take up the money; and now come with me.
When we are far from this polluted place
I will give everybody money enough.
[_She goes out, the peasants crowding round her and
kissing her dress. ALEEL and the TWO MERCHANTS are left
alone. _
SECOND MERCHANT.
Now are our days of heavy labour done.
FIRST MERCHANT.
We have a precious jewel for Satan's crown.
SECOND MERCHANT.
We must away, and wait until she dies,
Sitting above her tower as two gray owls,
Watching as many years as may be, guarding
Our precious jewel; waiting to seize her soul.
FIRST MERCHANT.
We need but hover over her head in the air,
For she has only minutes: when she came
I saw the dimness of the tomb in her,
And marked her walking as with leaden shoes
And looking on the ground as though the worms
Were calling her, and when she wrote her name
Her heart began to break. Hush! hush! I hear
The brazen door of Hell move on its hinges,
And the eternal revelry float hither
To hearten us.
SECOND MERCHANT.
Leap, feathered, on the air
And meet them with her soul caught in your claws.
[_They rush out. ALEEL crawls into the middle of the
room.
The twilight has fallen and gradually darkens
as the scene goes on. There is a distant muttering of
thunder and a sound of rising storm. _
ALEEL.
The brazen door stands wide, and Balor comes
Borne in his heavy car, and demons have lifted
The age-weary eyelids from the eyes that of old
Turned gods to stone; Barach the traitor comes;
And the lascivious race, Cailitin,
That cast a druid weakness and decay
Over Sualtam's and old Dectora's child;
And that great king Hell first took hold upon
When he killed Naisi and broke Deirdre's heart;
And all their heads are twisted to one side,
For when they lived they warred on beauty and peace
With obstinate, crafty, sidelong bitterness.
[_OONA enters, but remains standing by the door. ALEEL
half rises, leaning upon one arm and one knee. _]
Crouch down, old heron, out of the blind storm.
OONA.
Where is the Countess Cathleen? All this day
She has been pale and weakly: when her hand
Touched mine over the spindle her hand trembled,
And now I do not know where she has gone.
ALEEL.
Cathleen has chosen other friends than us,
And they are rising through the hollow world.
[_He points downwards. _
First, Orchil, her pale beautiful head alive,
Her body shadowy as vapour drifting
Under the dawn, for she who awoke desire
Has but a heart of blood when others die;
About her is a vapoury multitude
Of women, alluring devils with soft laughter;
Behind her a host heat of the blood made sin,
But all the little pink-white nails have grown
To be great talons.
[_He seizes OONA and drags her into the middle of the
room and points downwards with vehement gestures. The
wind roars. _]
They begin a song
And there is still some music on their tongues.
OONA.
[_Casting herself face downwards on the floor. _]
O maker of all, protect her from the demons,
And if a soul must needs be lost, take mine.
[_ALEEL kneels beside her, but does not seem to hear
her words; he is gazing down as if through the earth.
The peasants return. They carry the COUNTESS CATHLEEN
and lay her upon the ground before OONA and ALEEL. She
lies there as if dead. _]
O that so many pitchers of rough clay
Should prosper and the porcelain break in two!
[_She kisses the hands of the COUNTESS CATHLEEN. _
A PEASANT.
We were under the tree where the path turns
When she grew pale as death and fainted away,
And while we bore her hither, cloudy gusts
Blackened the world and shook us on our feet:
Draw the great bolt, for no man has beheld
So black, bitter, blinding, and sudden a storm.
[_One who is near the door draws the bolt. _
OONA.
Hush, hush, she has awakened from her swoon.
CATHLEEN.
O hold me, and hold me tightly, for the storm
Is dragging me away!
[_OONA takes her in her arms. A woman begins to wail. _
A PEASANT.
Hush.
ANOTHER PEASANT.
Hush.
A PEASANT WOMAN.
Hush.
ANOTHER PEASANT WOMAN.
Hush.
CATHLEEN [_half rising_].
Lay all the bags of money at my feet.
[_They lay the bags at her feet. _
And send and bring old Neal when I am dead,
And bid him hear each man and judge and give:
He doctors you with herbs, and can best say
Who has the less and who the greater need.
A PEASANT WOMAN.
[_At the back of the crowd. _]
And will he give enough out of the bags
To keep my children till the dearth go by?
ANOTHER PEASANT WOMAN.
O Queen of Heaven and all you blessed Saints,
Let us and ours be lost, so she be shriven.
CATHLEEN.
Bend down your faces, Oona and Aleel:
I gaze upon them as the swallow gazes
Upon the nest under the eave, before
He wander the loud waters: do not weep
Too great a while, for there is many a candle
On the high altar though one fall. Aleel,
Who sang about the people of the raths,
That know not the hard burden of the world,
Having but breath in their kind bodies, farewell!
And farewell, Oona, who spun flax with me
Soft as their sleep when every dance is done:
The storm is in my hair and I must go.
[_She dies. _
OONA.
Bring me the looking-glass.
[_A woman brings it to her out of the inner room. OONA holds the glass
over the lips of the COUNTESS CATHLEEN. All is silent for a moment; and
then she speaks in a half scream. _]
O, she is dead!
A PEASANT WOMAN.
She was the great white lily of the world.
ANOTHER PEASANT WOMAN.
She was more beautiful than the pale stars.
AN OLD PEASANT WOMAN.
The little plant I loved is broken in two.
[_ALEEL takes the looking-glass from OONA and flings it
upon the floor so that it is broken in many pieces. _
ALEEL.
I shatter you in fragments, for the face
That brimmed you up with beauty is no more:
And die, dull heart, for she whose mournful words
Made you a living spirit has passed away
And left you but a ball of passionate dust;
And you, proud earth and plumy sea, fade out,
For you may hear no more her faltering feet,
But are left lonely amid the clamorous war
Of angels upon devils.
[_He stands up; almost everyone is kneeling, but it has grown so dark
that only confused forms can be seen. _]
And I who weep
Call curses on you, Time and Fate and Change,
And have no excellent hope but the great hour
When you shall plunge headlong through bottomless space.
[_A flash of lightning followed immediately by thunder. _
A PEASANT WOMAN.
Pull him upon his knees before his curses
Have plucked thunder and lightning on our heads.
ALEEL.
Angels and devils clash in the middle air,
And brazen swords clang upon brazen helms:
[_A flash of lightning followed immediately by thunder. _]
Yonder a bright spear, cast out of a sling,
Has torn through Balor's eye, and the dark clans
Fly screaming as they fled Moytura of old.
[_Everything is lost in darkness. _
AN OLD MAN.
The Almighty, wrath at our great weakness and sin,
Has blotted out the world and we must die.
[_The darkness is broken by a visionary light. The
peasants seem to be kneeling upon the rocky slope of a
mountain, and vapour full of storm and ever-changing
light is sweeping above them and behind them. Half in
the light, half in the shadow, stand armed Angels.
Their armour is old and worn, and their drawn swords
dim and dinted. They stand as if upon the air in
formation of battle and look downward with stern faces.
The peasants cast themselves on the ground. _
ALEEL.
Look no more on the half-closed gates of Hell,
But speak to me, whose mind is smitten of God,
That it may be no more with mortal things;
And tell of her who lies here.
[_He seizes one of the Angels. _] Till you speak
You shall not drift into eternity.
THE ANGEL.
The light beats down: the gates of pearl are wide,
And she is passing to the floor of peace,
And Mary of the seven times wounded heart
Has kissed her lips, and the long blessed hair
Has fallen on her face; the Light of Lights
Looks always on the motive, not the deed,
The Shadow of Shadows on the deed alone.
[_ALEEL releases the Angel and kneels. _
OONA.
Tell them who walk upon the floor of peace
That I would die and go to her I love;
The years like great black oxen tread the world,
And God the herdsman goads them on behind,
And I am broken by their passing feet.
[_A sound of far-off horns seems to come from the heart
of the light. The vision melts away, and the forms of
the kneeling peasants appear faintly in the darkness. _]
THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE
'O Rose, thou art sick. '--_William Blake. _
TO FLORENCE FARR
_PERSONS IN THE PLAY_
MAURTEEN BRUIN
SHAWN BRUIN
FATHER HART
BRIDGET BRUIN
MAIRE BRUIN
A FAERY CHILD
_The scene is laid in the Barony of Kilmacowen, in the County of Sligo,
and the characters are supposed to speak in Gaelic. They wear the
costume of a century ago. _
THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE
_The kitchen of MAURTEEN BRUIN'S house. An open grate
with a turf fire is at the left side of the room, with
a table in front of it. There is a door leading to the
open air at the back, and another door a little to its
left, leading into an inner room. There is a window, a
settle, and a large dresser on the right side of the
room, and a great bowl of primroses on the sill of
the window. MAURTEEN BRUIN, FATHER HART, and BRIDGET
BRUIN are sitting at the table. SHAWN BRUIN is setting
the table for supper. MAIRE BRUIN sits on the settle
reading a yellow manuscript. _
BRIDGET BRUIN.
Because I bade her go and feed the calves,
She took that old book down out of the thatch
And has been doubled over it all day.
We would be deafened by her groans and moans
Had she to work as some do, Father Hart,
Get up at dawn like me, and mend and scour;
Or ride abroad in the boisterous night like you,
The pyx and blessed bread under your arm.
SHAWN BRUIN.
You are too cross.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
The young side with the young.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
She quarrels with my wife a bit at times,
And is too deep just now in the old book,
But do not blame her greatly; she will grow
As quiet as a puff-ball in a tree
When but the moons of marriage dawn and die
For half a score of times.
FATHER HART.
Their hearts are wild
As be the hearts of birds, till children come.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
She would not mind the griddle, milk the cow,
Or even lay the knives and spread the cloth.
FATHER HART.
I never saw her read a book before;
What may it be?
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
I do not rightly know;
It has been in the thatch for fifty years.
My father told me my grandfather wrote it,
Killed a red heifer and bound it with the hide.
But draw your chair this way--supper is spread.
And little good he got out of the book,
Because it filled his house with roaming bards,
And roaming ballad-makers and the like,
And wasted all his goods. --Here is the wine:
The griddle bread's beside you, Father Hart.
Colleen, what have you got there in the book
That you must leave the bread to cool? Had I,
Or had my father, read or written books
There were no stocking full of silver and gold
To come, when I am dead, to Shawn and you.
FATHER HART.
You should not fill your head with foolish dreams.
What are you reading?
MAIRE BRUIN.
How a Princess Edain,
A daughter of a King of Ireland, heard
A voice singing on a May Eve like this,
And followed, half awake and half asleep,
Until she came into the land of faery,
Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,
Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise,
Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue;
And she is still there, busied with a dance,
Deep in the dewy shadow of a wood,
Or where stars walk upon a mountain-top.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
Persuade the colleen to put by the book:
My grandfather would mutter just such things,
And he was no judge of a dog or horse,
And any idle boy could blarney him:
Just speak your mind.
FATHER HART.
Put it away, my colleen.
God spreads the heavens above us like great wings,
And gives a little round of deeds and days,
And then come the wrecked angels and set snares,
And bait them with light hopes and heavy dreams,
Until the heart is puffed with pride and goes,
Half shuddering and half joyous, from God's peace:
And it was some wrecked angel, blind from tears,
Who flattered Edain's heart with merry words.
My colleen, I have seen some other girls
Restless and ill at ease, but years went by
And they grew like their neighbours and were glad
In minding children, working at the churn,
And gossiping of weddings and of wakes;
For life moves out of a red flare of dreams
Into a common light of common hours,
Until old age bring the red flare again.
SHAWN BRUIN.
Yet do not blame her greatly, Father Hart,
For she is dull while I am in the fields,
And mother's tongue were harder still to bear,
But for her fancies: this is May Eve too,
When the good people post about the world,
And surely one may think of them to-night.
Maire, have you the primroses to fling
Before the door to make a golden path
For them to bring good luck into the house?
Remember, they may steal new-married brides
After the fall of twilight on May Eve.
[_MAIRE BRUIN goes over to the window and takes flowers
from the bowl and strews them outside the door. _
FATHER HART.
You do well, daughter, because God permits
Great power to the good people on May Eve.
SHAWN BRUIN.
They can work all their will with primroses;
Change them to golden money, or little flames
To burn up those who do them any wrong.
MAIRE BRUIN [_in a dreamy voice_].
I had no sooner flung them by the door
Than the wind cried and hurried them away;
And then a child came running in the wind
And caught them in her hands and fondled them:
Her dress was green: her hair was of red gold;
Her face was pale as water before dawn.
FATHER HART.
Whose child can this be?
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
No one's child at all.
She often dreams that someone has gone by
When there was nothing but a puff of wind.
MAIRE BRUIN.
They will not bring good luck into the house,
For they have blown the primroses away;
Yet I am glad that I was courteous to them,
For are not they, likewise, children of God?
FATHER HART.
Colleen, they are the children of the Fiend,
And they have power until the end of Time,
When God shall fight with them a great pitched battle
And hack them into pieces.
MAIRE BRUIN.
He will smile,
Father, perhaps, and open His great door,
And call the pretty and kind into His house.
FATHER HART.
Did but the lawless angels see that door,
They would fall, slain by everlasting peace;
And when such angels knock upon our doors
Who goes with them must drive through the same storm.
[_A knock at the door. MAIRE BRUIN opens it and then
goes to the dresser and fills a porringer with milk and
hands it through the door and takes it back empty and
closes the door. _
MAIRE BRUIN.
A little queer old woman cloaked in green,
Who came to beg a porringer of milk.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
The good people go asking milk and fire
Upon May Eve. --Woe on the house that gives,
For they have power upon it for a year.
I knew you would bring evil on the house.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
Who was she?
MAIRE BRUIN.
Both the tongue and face were strange.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
Some strangers came last week to Clover Hill;
She must be one of them.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
I am afraid.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
The priest will keep all harm out of the house.
FATHER HART.
The cross will keep all harm out of the house
While it hangs there.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
Come, sit beside me, colleen,
And put away your dreams of discontent,
For I would have you light up my last days
Like a bright torch of pine, and when I die
I will make you the wealthiest hereabout:
For hid away where nobody can find
I have a stocking full of silver and gold.
BRIDGET BRUIN.
You are the fool of every pretty face,
And I must pinch and pare that my son's wife
May have all kinds of ribbons for her head.
MAURTEEN BRUIN.
Do not be cross; she is a right good girl!
The butter is by your elbow, Father Hart.
My colleen, have not Fate and Time and Change
Done well for me and for old Bridget there?
We have a hundred acres of good land,
And sit beside each other at the fire,
The wise priest of our parish to our right,
And you and our dear son to left of us.
To sit beside the board and drink good wine
And watch the turf smoke coiling from the fire
And feel content and wisdom in your heart,
This is the best of life; when we are young
We long to tread a way none trod before,
But find the excellent old way through love
And through the care of children to the hour
For bidding Fate and Time and Change good-bye.
[_A knock at the door. MAIRE BRUIN opens it and then
takes a sod of turf out of the hearth in the tongs and
passes it through the door and closes the door and
remains standing by it.
