No More Learning

CATHLEEN.

Who now wants me, Paudeen?

SERVANT [_from the door_].

A herdsman and his history.

CATHLEEN.

He may come.

[_The HERDSMAN enters from the door to R. _

HERDSMAN.

Forgive this dusty gear: I have come far.
My sheep were taken from the fold last night.
You will be angry: I am not to blame.
But blame these robbing times.

CATHLEEN.

No blame's with you.
I blame the famine.

HERDSMAN.

Kneeling, I give thanks.
When gazing on your face, the poorest, Lady,
Forget their poverty, the rich their care.

CATHLEEN.

What rumours and what portents of the famine?

HERDSMAN.

As I came down the lane by Tubber-vanach
A boy and man sat cross-legged on two stones,
With moving hands and faces famine-thin,
Gabbling to crowds of men and wives and boys
Of how two merchants at a house in the woods
Buy souls for hell, giving so great a price
That men may live through all the dearth in plenty.
The vales are famine-crazy--I am right glad
My home is on the mountain near to God.

[_He turns to go. _

CATHLEEN.

They will give you ale and meat before you go.
You must have risen at dawn to come so far.
Keep your bare mountain--let the world drift by,
The burden of its wrongs rests not on you.

HERDSMAN.

I am content to serve your ladyship.

[_He goes. _

OONA.

What did he say? --he stood on my deaf side.
He seemed to give you word of woful things.

CATHLEEN.

A story born out of the dreaming eyes
And crazy brain and credulous ears of famine.
O, I am sadder than an old air, Oona,
My heart is longing for a deeper peace
Than Fergus found amid his brazen cars:
Would that like Edain my first forebear's daughter,
Who followed once a twilight's piercing tune,
I could go down and dwell among the Sidhe
In their old ever-busy honeyed land.

OONA.

You should not say such things--they bring ill-luck.

CATHLEEN.

The image of young Edain on the arras,
Walking along, one finger lifted up;
And that wild song of the unending dance
Of the dim Danaan nations in their raths,
Young Aleel sang for me by the great door,
Before we lost him in the shadow of leaves,
Have filled me full of all these wicked words.

[_The SERVANT enters hastily, followed by three men.
Two are peasants. _

SERVANT.

The steward of the castle brings two men
To talk with you.

STEWARD.

And tell the strangest story
The mouth of man has uttered.

CATHLEEN.

More food taken;
Yet learned theologians have laid down
That he who has no food, offending no way,
May take his meat and bread from too-full larders.

FIRST PEASANT.

We come to make amends for robbery.
I stole five hundred apples from your trees,
And laid them in a hole; and my friend here
Last night stole two large mountain sheep of yours
And hung them on a beam under his thatch.

SECOND PEASANT.

His words are true.

FIRST PEASANT.

Since then our luck has changed.
As I came down the lane by Tubber-vanach
I fell on Shemus Rua and his son,
And they led me where two great gentlemen
Buy souls for money, and they bought my soul.
I told my friend here--my friend also trafficked.

SECOND PEASANT.

His words are true.

FIRST PEASANT.

Now people throng to sell,
Noisy as seagulls tearing a dead fish.
There soon will be no man or woman's soul
Unbargained for in fivescore baronies.

SECOND PEASANT.

His words are true.

FIRST PEASANT.

When we had sold we talked,
And having no more comfortable life
Than this that makes us warm--our souls being bartered
For all this money--

SECOND PEASANT.

And this money here.

[_They bring handfuls of money from their pockets.
CATHLEEN starts up. _

FIRST PEASANT.

And fearing much to hang for robbery,
We come to pay you for the sheep and fruit.
How do you price them?

CATHLEEN.

Gather up your money.
Think you that I would touch the demons' gold?
Begone, give twice, thrice, twenty times their money,
And buy your souls again. I will pay all.

FIRST PEASANT.

We will not buy our souls again: a soul
But keeps the flesh out of its merriment.
We shall be merry and drunk from moon to moon.
Keep from our way. Let no one stop our way.

[_They go. _

CATHLEEN [_to servant_].

Follow and bring them here again--beseech them.

[_The SERVANT goes. _

[_To STEWARD. _]

Steward, you know the secrets of this house.
How much have I in gold?

STEWARD.

A hundred thousand.

CATHLEEN.

How much have I in castles?

STEWARD.

As much more.

CATHLEEN.

How much have I in pastures?

STEWARD.

As much more.

CATHLEEN.

How much have I in forests?

STEWARD.

As much more.

CATHLEEN.

Keeping this house alone, sell all I have;
Go to some distant country and come again
With many herds of cows and ships of grain.

STEWARD.

God's blessing light upon your ladyship;
You will have saved the land.

CATHLEEN.

Make no delay.

[_He goes. _

[_Enter SERVANT. _]

How did you thrive? Say quickly. You are pale.

SERVANT.

Their eyes burn like the eyes of birds of prey:
I did not dare go near.

CATHLEEN.

God pity them!
Bring all the old and ailing to this house,
For I will have no sorrow of my own
From this day onward.

[_The SERVANT goes out. Some of the musicians follow
him, some linger in the doorway. The COUNTESS CATHLEEN
kneels beside OONA. _

Can you tell me, mother,
How I may mend the times, how staunch this wound
That bleeds in the earth, how overturn the famine,
How drive these demons to their darkness again?

OONA.

The demons hold our hearts between their hands,
For the apple is in our blood, and though heart break
There is no medicine but Michael's trump.
Till it has ended parting and old age
And hail and rain and famine and foolish laughter;
The dead are happy, the dust is in their ears.




ACT III.


_Hall of the COUNTESS CATHLEEN as before. SERVANT
enters and goes towards the oratory door. _

SERVANT.

Here is yet another would see your ladyship.

CATHLEEN [_within_].

Who calls me?

SERVANT.

There is a man would speak with you,
And by his face he has some pressing news,
Some moving tale.

CATHLEEN [_coming to chapel door_].

I cannot rest or pray,
For all day long the messengers run hither
On one another's heels, and every message
More evil than the one that had gone before.
Who is the messenger?

SERVANT.

Aleel, the poet.

CATHLEEN.

There is no hour he is not welcome to me,
Because I know of nothing but a harp-string
That can remember happiness.

[_SERVANT goes out and ALEEL comes in. _

And now
I grow forgetful of evil for awhile.

ALEEL.

I have come to bid you leave this castle, and fly
Out of these woods.

CATHLEEN.

What evil is there here,
That is not everywhere from this to the sea?

ALEEL.

They who have sent me walk invisible.

CATHLEEN.

Men say that the wise people of the raths
Have given you wisdom.

ALEEL.

I lay in the dusk
Upon the grassy margin of a lake
Among the hills, where none of mortal creatures
But the swan comes--my sleep became a fire.
One walked in the fire with birds about his head.

CATHLEEN.

Ay, Aengus of the birds.

ALEEL.

He may be Aengus,
But it may be he bears an angelical name.
Lady, he bid me call you from these woods;
He bids you bring Oona, your foster-mother,
And some few serving-men and live in the hills
Among the sounds of music and the light
Of waters till the evil days are gone.

[_He kneels. _]

For here some terrible death is waiting you;
Some unimaginable evil, some great darkness
That fable has not dreamt of, nor sun nor moon
Scattered.

CATHLEEN.

And he had birds about his head?

ALEEL.

Yes, yes, white birds. He bids you leave this house
With some old trusty serving-man, who will feed
All that are starving and shelter all that wander
While there is food and house-room.

CATHLEEN.

He bids me go
Where none of mortal creatures but the swan
Dabbles, and there you would pluck the harp when the trees
Had made a heavy shadow about our door,
And talk among the rustling of the reeds
When night hunted the foolish sun away,
With stillness and pale tapers. No--no--no.
I cannot. Although I weep, I do not weep
Because that life would be most happy, and here
I find no way, no end. Nor do I weep
Because I had longed to look upon your face,
But that a night of prayer has made me weary.

ALEEL.

[_Throwing his arms about her feet. _]

Let Him that made mankind, the angels and devils
And death and plenty mend what He has made,
For when we labour in vain and eye still sees
Heart breaks in vain.

CATHLEEN.

How would that quiet end?

ALEEL.

How but in healing?

CATHLEEN.

You have seen my tears.
And I can see your hand shake on the floor.

ALEEL [_faltering_].

I thought but of healing. He was angelical.

CATHLEEN.

[_Turning away from him. _]

No, not angelical, but of the old gods,
Who wander about the world to waken the heart--
The passionate, proud heart that all the angels
Leaving nine heavens empty would rock to sleep.

[_She goes to the chapel door; ALEEL holds his clasped
hands towards her for a moment hesitatingly, and then
lets them fall beside him. _

Do not hold out to me beseeching hands.
This heart shall never waken on earth. I have sworn
By her whose heart the seven sorrows have pierced
To pray before this altar until my heart
Has grown to Heaven like a tree, and there
Rustled its leaves till Heaven has saved my people.

ALEEL [_who has risen_].

When one so great has spoken of love to one
So little as I, although to deny him love,
What can he but hold out beseeching hands,
Then let them fall beside him, knowing how greatly
They have overdared?

[_He goes towards the door of the hall. The COUNTESS
CATHLEEN takes a few steps towards him. _

CATHLEEN.
If the old tales are true,
Queens have wed shepherds and kings beggar-maids;
God's procreant waters flowing about your mind
Have made you more than kings or queens; and not you
But I am the empty pitcher.

ALEEL.

Being silent,
I have said all--farewell, farewell; and yet no,
Give me your hand to kiss.

CATHLEEN.

I kiss your brow,
But will not say farewell. I am often weary,
And I would hear the harp-string.

ALEEL.

I cannot stay,
For I would hide my sorrow among the hills--
Listen, listen, the hills are calling me.

[_They listen for a moment. _

CATHLEEN.

I hear the cry of curlew.

ALEEL.

Then I will out
Where I can hear wind cry and water cry
And curlew cry: how does the saying go
That calls them the three oldest cries in the world?
Farewell, farewell, I will go wander among them,
Because there is no comfort under a roof-tree.

[_He goes out. _

CATHLEEN.

[_Looking through the door after him. _]

I cannot see him. He has come to the great door.
I must go pray. Would that my heart and mind
Were as little shaken as this candle-light.

[_She goes into the chapel. The TWO MERCHANTS enter. _

SECOND MERCHANT.

Who was the man that came from the great door
While we were still in the shadow?

FIRST MERCHANT.

Aleel, her lover.

SECOND MERCHANT.

It may be that he has turned her thought from us
And we can gather our merchandise in peace.

FIRST MERCHANT.

No, no, for she is kneeling.

SECOND MERCHANT.

Shut the door.
Are all our drudges here?

FIRST MERCHANT.

[_Closing the chapel door. _]

I bid them follow.
Can you not hear them breathing upon the stairs?
I have sat this hour under the elder-tree.

SECOND MERCHANT.

I had bid you rob her treasury, and yet
I found you sitting drowsed and motionless,
Your chin bowed to your knees, while on all sides,
Bat-like from bough and roof and window-ledge,
Clung evil souls of men, and in the woods,
Like streaming flames, floated upon the winds
The elemental creatures.

FIRST MERCHANT.

I have fared ill;
She prayed so hard I could not cross the threshold
Till this young man had turned her prayer to dreams.
You have had a man to kill: how have you fared?

SECOND MERCHANT.

I lay in the image of a nine-monthed bonyeen,
By Tubber-vanach cross-roads: Father John
Came, sad and moody, murmuring many prayers;
I seemed as though I came from his own sty;
He saw the one brown ear; the breviary dropped;
He ran; I ran, I ran into the quarry;
He fell a score of yards.

FIRST MERCHANT.

Now that he is dead
We shall be too much thronged with souls to-morrow.
Did his soul escape you?

SECOND MERCHANT.

I thrust it in the bag.
But the hand that blessed the poor and raised the Host
Tore through the leather with sharp piety.

FIRST MERCHANT.

Well, well, to labour--here is the treasury door.

[_They go out by the left-hand door, and enter again
in a little while, carrying full bags upon their
shoulders. _

FIRST MERCHANT.

Brave thought, brave thought--a shining thought of mine!
She now no more may bribe the poor--no more
Cheat our great master of his merchandise,
While our heels dangle at the house in the woods,
And grass grows on the threshold, and snails crawl
Along the window-pane and the mud floor.
Brother, where wander all these dwarfish folk,
Hostile to men, the people of the tides?

SECOND MERCHANT.

[_Going to the door. _]

They are gone. They have already wandered away,
Unwilling labourers.

FIRST MERCHANT.

I will call them hither.

[_He opens the window. _

Come hither, hither, hither, water-folk:
Come, all you elemental populace;
Leave lonely the long-hoarding surges: leave
The cymbals of the waves to clash alone,
And, shaking the sea-tangles from your hair,
Gather about us. [_After a pause. _
I can hear a sound
As from waves beating upon distant strands;
And the sea-creatures, like a surf of light,
Pour eddying through the pathways of the oaks;
And as they come, the sentient grass and leaves
Bow towards them, and the tall, drouth-jaded oaks
Fondle the murmur of their flying feet.

SECOND MERCHANT.

The green things love unknotted hearts and minds;
And neither one with angels or with us,
Nor risen in arms with evil nor with good,
In laughter roves the litter of the waves.

[_A crowd of faces fill up the darkness outside the
window. A figure separates from the others and speaks. _

THE SPIRIT.

We come unwillingly, for she whose gold
We must now carry to the house in the woods
Is dear to all our race. On the green plain,
Beside the sea, a hundred shepherds live
To mind her sheep; and when the nightfall comes
They leave a hundred pans of white ewes' milk
Outside their doors, to feed us when the dawn
Has driven us out of Finbar's ancient house,
And broken the long dance under the hill.

FIRST MERCHANT.

[_Making a sign upon the air. _]

Obey! I make a sign upon your hearts.

THE SPIRIT.

The sign of evil burns upon our hearts,
And we obey.

[_They crowd through the window, and take out of the
bags a small bag each. They are dressed in green robes
and have ruddy hair. They are a little less than the
size of men and women. _

FIRST MERCHANT.

And now begone--begone! [_They go. _
I bid them go, for, being garrulous
And flighty creatures, they had soon begun
To deafen us with their sea-gossip. Now
We must go bring more money. Brother, brother,
I long to see my master's face again,
For I turn homesick.

SECOND MERCHANT.

I too tire of toil.

[_They go out, and return as before, with their bags
full. _

SECOND MERCHANT.

[_Pointing to the oratory. _]

How may we gain this woman for our lord?
This pearl, this turquoise fastened in his crown
Would make it shine like His we dare not name.
Now that the winds are heavy with our kind,
Might we not kill her, and bear off her spirit
Before the mob of angels were astir?

[_A diadem and a heap of jewels fall from the bag. _

FIRST MERCHANT.

Who tore the bag?

SECOND MERCHANT.

The finger of Priest John
When he fled through the leather. I had thought
Because his was an old and little spirit
The tear would hardly matter.

FIRST MERCHANT.

This comes, brother,
Of stealing souls that are not rightly ours.
If we would win this turquoise for our lord,
It must go dropping down of its freewill.
She will have heard the noise. She will stifle us
With holy names.

[_He goes to the oratory door and opens it a little,
and then closes it. _]

No, she has fallen asleep.

SECOND MERCHANT.

The noise wakened the household. While you spoke
I heard chairs moved, and heard folk's shuffling feet.
And now they are coming hither.

A VOICE [_within_].

It was here.

ANOTHER VOICE.

No, further away.

ANOTHER VOICE.

It was in the western tower.

ANOTHER VOICE.

Come quickly; we will search the western tower.

FIRST MERCHANT.

We still have time--they search the distant rooms.
Call hither the fading and the unfading fires.

SECOND MERCHANT.

[_Going to the window. _]

There are none here. They tired and strayed from hence--
Unwilling labourers.

FIRST MERCHANT.

I will draw them in.

[_He cries through the window. _

Come hither, you lost souls of men, who died
In drunken sleep, and by each other's hands
When they had bartered you--come hither all
Who mourn among the scenery of your sins,
Turning to animal and reptile forms,
The visages of passions; hither, hither--
Leave marshes and the reed-encumbered pools,
You shapeless fires, that were the souls of men,
And are a fading wretchedness.

SECOND MERCHANT.

They come not.

FIRST MERCHANT.

[_Making a sign upon the air. _]

Come hither, hither, hither.

SECOND MERCHANT.

I can hear
A crying as of storm-distempered reeds.
The fading and the unfading fires rise up
Like steam out of the earth; the grass and leaves
Shiver and shrink away and sway about,
Blown by unnatural gusts of ice-cold air.

FIRST MERCHANT.

They are one with all the beings of decay,
Ill longings, madness, lightning, famine, drouth.

[_The whole stage is gradually filled with vague forms,
some animal shapes, some human, some mere lights. _

Come you--and you--and you, and lift these bags.

A SPIRIT.

We are too violent; mere shapes of storm.

FIRST MERCHANT.

Come you--and you--and you, and lift these bags.

A SPIRIT.

We are too feeble, fading out of life.

FIRST MERCHANT.

Come you, and you, who are the latest dead,
And still wear human shape: the shape of power.

[_The two robbing peasants of the last scene come
forward. Their faces have withered from much pain. _

Now, brawlers, lift the bags of gold.

FIRST PEASANT.

Yes, yes!
Unwillingly, unwillingly; for she,
Whose gold we bear upon our shoulders thus,
Has endless pity even for lost souls
In her good heart. At moments, now and then,
When plunged in horror, brooding each alone,
A memory of her face floats in on us.
It brings a crowned misery, half repose,
And we wail one to other; we obey,
For heaven's many-angled star reversed,
Now sign of evil, burns into our hearts.

FIRST MERCHANT.

When these pale sapphires and these diadems
And these small bags of money are in our house,
The burning shall give over--now begone.

SECOND MERCHANT.

[_Lifting the diadem to put it upon his head. _]

No--no--no. I will carry the diadem.

FIRST MERCHANT.

No, brother, not yet.
For none can carry her treasures wholly away
But spirits that are too light for good and evil,
Or, being evil, can remember good.
Begone! [_The spirits vanish. _] I bade them go, for they are lonely,
And when they see aught living love to sigh.
[_Pointing to the oratory. _] Brother, I heard a sound in there--a sound
That troubles me.

SECOND MERCHANT.

[_Going to the door of the oratory and peering through it. _]

Upon the altar steps
The Countess tosses, murmuring in her sleep
A broken _Paternoster_.

[_The FIRST MERCHANT goes to the door and stands beside him. _]

She is grown still.

FIRST MERCHANT.

A great plan floats into my mind--no wonder,
For I come from the ninth and mightiest Hell,
Where all are kings. I will wake her from her sleep,
And mix with all her thoughts a thought to serve.

[_He calls through the door. _

May we be well remembered in your prayers!

[_The COUNTESS CATHLEEN wakes, and comes to the door of
the oratory. The MERCHANTS descend into the room again.
She stands at the top of the stone steps. _

CATHLEEN.

What would you, sirs?

FIRST MERCHANT.

We are two merchant men,
New come from foreign lands. We bring you news.
Forgive our sudden entry: the great door
Was open, we came in to seek a face.

CATHLEEN.

The door stands always open to receive,
With kindly welcome, starved and sickly folk,
Or any who would fly the woful times.
Merchants, you bring me news?

FIRST MERCHANT.

We saw a man
Heavy with sickness in the Bog of Allan,
Whom you had bid buy cattle.