Brian Friel Plays 2

by Brian Friel

  Mabel That’s what matters in the end, isn’t it?

  O’Neill The overall thing – we don’t even begin to know what it means.

  Silence. She gathers her pieces of lace and goes to the door.

  Mabel Something Mary told me: a new Lord Deputy is about to be appointed, somebody called Lord Mountjoy. Henry says he’s meticulous, and a ruthless fighter. Blount – that’s his real name; Charles Blount. That’s all she knows. Oh yes – he smokes a lot. It’s all very secret. She made me swear not to tell you.

  She is about to leave when she is arrested by the controlled passion of O’Neill’s voice.

  O’Neill I have spent my life attempting to do two things. I have attempted to hold together a harassed and a confused people by trying to keep them in touch with the life they knew before they were overrun. It wasn’t a life of material ease but it had its assurances and it had its dignity. And I have done that by acknowledging and indeed honouring the rituals and ceremonies and beliefs these people have practised since before history, long before the God of Christianity was ever heard of. And at the same time I have tried to open these people to the strange new ways of Europe, to ease them into the new assessment of things, to nudge them towards changing evaluations and beliefs. Two pursuits that can scarcely be followed simultaneously. Two tasks that are almost self-cancelling. But they have got to be attempted because the formation of nations and civilizations is a willed act, not a product of fate or accident. And for you to suggest that religion is the only coagulant that holds us together is to grossly and ignorantly overlook an age-old civilization. In one detail you are right: it is not my nature to gamble everything on one big throw –

  Mabel So have your war.

  O’Neill But if I don’t move now that civilization is certainly doomed.

  Mabel So go and fight. That’s what you’ve spent your life doing. That’s what you’re best at. Fighting to preserve a fighting society. I don’t care any more.

  O’Neill Because you’re not quite sure which side you’re on?

  Mabel Why do you keep rejecting me, Hugh?

  O’Neill I can see it wouldn’t break your heart to see the Gaelic order wiped out. But let’s look at what the alternative is: the buccaneering, vulgar, material code of the new colonials –

  Mabel (leaving) Excuse me.

  O’Neill The new ‘civility’ approved, we’re told, by God Himself. Isn’t that your coagulant – God? No, better still, God and trade. Now there’s a combination.

  She swings back and glares at him in hatred. He ignores her and pretends to busy himself at the desk.

  Mabel I want your mistresses out of this house immediately.

  O’Neill (Tyrone accent) Aw, now sorry, ma’am.

  Mabel What does sorry mean?

  O’Neill That my mistresses stay.

  Mabel I will not live in the same house as those – those harlots! Get those tramps out of here!

  O’Neill No.

  Mabel Then I go.

  O’Neill That’s your choice.

  Pause. She tries not to cry.

  Mabel I’m pregnant, Hugh.

  O’Neill goes to the exit.

  O’Neill (calling) Harry! Have you a moment?

  Mabel Did you hear what I said?

  He returns to the desk.

  O’Neill That you’re pregnant? Yes, I heard. So if all goes well – isn’t that the expression? – if all goes well that will be ten legitimate children I’ll have sired and about – what? – maybe thirty bastards.

  Mabel Oh, Hugh –

  O’Neill Or so my people boast. An affectionate attribute every nation bestows on its heroes.

  Again he has instant remorse. As she runs to the door he runs after her.

  Mabel! Mabel, I’m –

  O’Donnell dashes on.

  O’Donnell A messenger from Spain outside, Hugh! (to Mabel) It gets better by the minute! (to O’Neill) The Spanish fleets sails on September 3! (to Mabel) Maybe you speak Spanish? You should hear your man out there: ‘Beeg fleet – beeg ships’!

  O’Neill Where do they sail from?

  O’Donnell Lisbon. On the first tide.

  O’Neill And where do they land?

  Harry enters.

  Harry Did you call me?

  O’Neill Where do they land?

  O’Donnell ‘Keen-sall.’

  O’Neill Where – where?

  O’Donnell ‘Keen-sall’ – Kinsale, I suppose.

  O’Neill Oh, God, no.

  O’Donnell Wherever Kinsale is. This is it, Mabel darling! This is it! Yipeeeeee!

  Quick black.

  Act Two

  SCENE ONE

  About eight months later. The edge of a thicket somewhere near the Sperrin mountains.

  O’Neill is on his knees. He is using a wooden box as a table and he is writing – scoring out – writing rapidly, with total concentration, almost frantically. Various loose pages on the ground beside him. He looks tired and anxious and harassed. He is so concentrated on his writing that he is unaware of O’Donnell’s entrance. Then, when he is aware, he reaches perfunctorily for the dagger at his side. O’Donnell, too, looks tired and anxious. He is also spattered with mud and his boots are sodden.

  O’Donnell It’s only me. I suppose you thought something had happened to me.

  O’Neill You were longer than you thought.

  O’Donnell I had to make detours going and coming back – the countryside’s crawling with troops. And then there were a lot of things to see to at home – disputes – documents – the usual. Look at my feet. These Sperrins aren’t mountains – they’re bloody bogs! I suppose you wouldn’t have a spare pair of boots?

  O’Neill What you see is all I have.

  O’Donnell I was afraid you might have had to move on to some new place.

  O’Neill It’s been very quiet here.

  O’Donnell God, I’m exhausted.

  He throws himself on the ground and spreads out in exhaustion. His eyes closed. O’Neill continues writing. Silence.

  O’Neill Have you any food?

  O’Donnell opens his leather bag and produces a scone of bread. O’Neill goes to him, takes the bread and eats it hungrily.

  O’Donnell My mother made me half-a-dozen of them but I met a family begging on the roadside near Raphoe. Everywhere you go there are people scavenging in the fields, hoking up bits of roots, eating fistfuls of watercress. They look like skeletons. Where’s Mabel?

  O’Neill Harry took her to relatives of Ruadhaire Dall O Cathain’s near Dungiven. She wasn’t able to keep moving about any more.

  O’Donnell Proper order, too. When is she due?

  O’Neill Next week probably.

  O’Donnell She’s been terrific, Hugh. Not a whimper out of her all these months – and us skulking about like tramps.

  O’Neill I know.

  O’Donnell Next week. Great. At least that’ll be something to celebrate. I’m wild dry. Have you any water?

  O’Neill hands him a bottle.

  O’Neill Well?

  O’Donnell I hate this aul brown Tyrone water – with all respects. How do you drink it?

  O’Neill What did you learn?

  O’Donnell I never made Ballyshannon. Dowcra’s troops were waiting for me there. I got no further than Donegal Town. My mother says to tell you she was asking for you.

  O’Neill Well?

  O’Donnell Well, it’s a complete collapse, she says. The countryside’s in chaos, she says: slaughter, famine, disease. There must be eight thousand people crowded into Donegal Town looking for food.

  O’Neill Where’s Mountjoy?

  O’Donnell Mountjoy’s riding up and down the country and beheading everything that stirs. And every week somebody new caves in; and those that are holding out are being picked off one after the other. But do you know what I heard? Jesus, wait till you hear this, Hugh. We were betrayed at Kinsale! They knew we were going to attack that morning. They were sitting waiting for us. And do you k
now how they knew? Brian Og McMahon slipped them the word! Time, place, number of men, everything. And do you know how they bought him? With a bottle of whiskey! Jesus, wouldn’t it break your heart? That’s what they’re all saying at home. There could have been 10 million Spanish soldiers and we still wouldn’t have won. Because one of our own captains bloody well betrayed us.

  O’Neill Rubbish.

  O’Donnell What d’you mean – rubbish?

  O’Neill All lies.

  O’Donnell You don’t believe me?

  O’Neill You don’t believe it yourself.

  O’Donnell It’s what everybody at home’s saying … I don’t know … maybe … but you’ll agree those McMahons were always shifty buggers.

  O’Neill How big is the collapse?

  O’Donnell It’s all over. It’s all finished, Hugh.

  O’Neill Who has submitted? Names.

  O’Donnell My mother says they’re crawling in on their hands and knees and offering hostages and money and whatnot. It would be easier to count the handful that are still holding out.

  O’Neill Names.

  O’Donnell Names … where do you begin? … all right, names … Jesus, I just hate saying them … Turlough McHenry of the Fews. The two Antrim O’Neills. O’Malley of Mayo. O’Flaherty of Annaly. Maguire of Fermanagh –

  O’Neill Cuchonnacht?

  O’Donnell God, no! The wee get, Connor Roe. Christ, man, aul Cuchonnacht’s still dodging about the Lisnaskea area with fifteen picked men and hammering away every chance he gets! The McDevitts of Ballybeg, all of them, every branch of the family. The McSwineys of Fanad. Wouldn’t it sicken you? – the bloody McSwineys that our family has kept and protected for generations and then when you’re down in your luck, (suddenly brightening) But do you know who’s holding out? You’d never guess! Still the same wee maggot he always was but at least he hasn’t caved in yet. The sheep-stealer! – the shit O’Doherty from Inishowen! Jesus, isn’t it well we didn’t slip him the Bordeaux Special that time?

  O’Neill Go on.

  O’Donnell O’Kelly of Kilconnell. Brave enough; he held out until last Sunday and then do you know what he did? The aul eejit, Jesus, pompous as ever; he had this blond wig that an aul aunt had brought home from Paris. Anyhow he sticks the blond wig on his head, puts on a scarlet jacket, marches into Galway town and offers his surrender – in French! Poor aul bugger – trying to make a bit of a gesture out of it … Anyhow, one swing of an axe and the aul blond head was rolling about the street …

  O’Neill Go on.

  O’Donnell Who else? … O’Reilly of East Breffni. McWilliam Burke of Connaught. O’Kane –

  O’Neill Which O’Kane?

  O’Donnell Your daughter Rose’s husband. Sure you always knew he was a bloody weed. Fitzmaurice of Kerry. Donnell McCarthy of Bandon. I can go on forever. O’Dowd. O’Dwyer of Kilnamanagh. God, Hugh, I’m telling you – it’s endless.

  O’Neill picks up his papers and puts them in order.

  Silence.

  O’Neill Where’s Chichester?

  O’Donnell He’s taken over your place at Dungannon.

  O’Neill Hah!

  O’Donnell He controls the whole of East Ulster. Dowcra controls the whole of West Ulster. Carew controls the whole of Munster. And Mountjoy controls the whole country. (Pause.) He did a kind of a dirty thing last week, Mountjoy.

  O’Neill stops and looks at him.

  He smashed the O’Neill crowning stone at Tullyhogue. There was no call for that, was there? (Pause.) What else is there? The King of France has written to Elizabeth to come to terms with us. Wasting his bloody time. All your Derry lands have been given to Bishop Montgomery and your Armagh lands to the new Protestant bishop there … I don’t think I heard anything else … they’ve taken over your fishing rights on the Bann and the Foyle … And I’ve resigned, Hugh.

  O’Neill What do you mean?

  O’Donnell Handed over to the brother, Rory.

  O’Neill Oh, Hugh.

  O’Donnell And I’m leaving at the end of the week.

  O’Neill Where for?

  O’Donnell I don’t know. Wherever the ship takes me. Maybe Spain. (Pause. He smiles resolutely and uncertainly.) No, it’s not a sudden decision. I’ve been thinking about it for months, ever since Kinsale. And Rory’ll be a fine chieftain – he’s a solid man, very calm, very balanced. He hasn’t my style or flair, of course; but then I have a fault or two, as you know. The blood gets up too easy and I was always useless at dealing with civil servants and Lord Deputies and people like that. Not like you. Even with my own people, for God’s sake: the bloody McSwineys of Fanad couldn’t wait to get a thump at me. Anyhow the chieftain isn’t all that important – isn’t that what our bards tell us? The land is the goddess that every ruler in turn is married to. We come and we go but she stays the same. And the Tyrconnell goddess is getting a new man. Trouble is, no matter who she’s married to, I’ll always be in love with her … (He takes a drink of water.) Jesus, that stuff would physic an elephant!

  O’Neill When are you leaving?

  O’Donnell Next Friday.

  O’Neill Where from?

  O’Donnell I’m getting a ship at a place called Castlehaven – wherever that is.

  O’Neill Near Skibbereen.

  O’Donnell Wherever Skibbereen is.

  O’Neill You’ll be back, Hugh.

  O’Donnell Aye. In a blond wig and a scarlet jacket and leading a hundred thousand Spaniards! And next time we’ll land in Derry – better still Rathmullan and my mother’ll get landing fees from the buggers – right? (He laughs.) No, it’s all over, Hugh. Finished for all time. Poor aul Peter Lombard, terrible bleak ending for his history, isn’t it? I mean, Jesus, how can the poor man make an interesting story out of a defeat like this – eh? If he’d any sense he’d scrap the whole thing. Yes, there is one thing that might bring me home sometime – to get my sheep back from the shit O’Doherty. Oh, man …

  Impulsively, about to break down, he flings his arms around O’Neill. They embrace for several seconds. Then O’Donnell goes to his bag for a handkerchief.

  What about you? What are you going to do?

  O’Neill I don’t have many choices. And I’m not as young as you.

  O’Donnell Damned right – twenty years older at least.

  O’Neill My instinct is to leave like you.

  O’Donnell What does Mabel think?

  O’Neill She’s urging me to hang on, pick up the pieces, start all over again. They’re very tenacious, the New English.

  O’Donnell Maybe she’s right. She’s a very loyal wee girl.

  O’Neill Her reasoning is that since the country is in such anarchy Mountjoy has neither the energy nor the resources to impose order; but if I were to make a public declaration of loyalty to the Queen and if she were to reinstate me –

  O’Donnell Are you out of your –?!

  O’Neill With only nominal authority, without political or military power whatever, then Mabel says I should accept almost any conditions, no matter how humiliating, as long as I’d be restored to my base again and to my own people.

  O’Donnell And why in God’s name would Elizabeth restore you?

  O’Neill Because she knows that the only way she can rule Ireland at this point is by using someone like me. She hates me – but she can rule through me provided she has control over me. At least that’s Mabel’s argument. I think I could get enough of my people behind me and she thinks some of the New English would back it – those that are sick of England.

  O’Donnell So you’re writing your submission?

  O’Neill What’s the alternative? The life of a soured émigré whingeing and scheming round the capitals of Europe.

  O’Donnell Like me.

  O’Neill I didn’t mean that, Hugh.

  O’Donnell Show me that. You know, you’re a tenacious bugger, too. You and Mabel are well met.

  At first O’Donnell reads his portions of the submission in mocking and e
xaggerated tones. He is unaware that O’Neill is deadly serious. But as they proceed through the document – O’Donnell reading his sections, O’Neill speaking his by heart – O’Donnell’s good humour drains away and he ends up as formal and as grave as O’Neill.

  (reading) I, Hugh O’Neill, by the Queen of England, France and Ireland her most gracious favour created Earl of Tyrone, do with all true and humble penitency prostrate myself at her royal feet – (He drops on his knees.) – absolutely submit myself to her mercy, (not reading) Mercy, Queen, Mercy!

  O’Neill Most sorrowfully imploring her gracious commiseration and appealing only to her princely clemency, without presuming to justify my unloyal proceedings against her sacred majesty.

  O’Donnell (reading) May it please Her Majesty to mitigate her just indignation against me for my unnatural rebellion which deserves no forgiveness and for which I can make no satisfaction, even with my life, (not reading) Jesus, you are one great fraud, O’Neill!

  O’Neill I do most humbly beg Her Majesty to restore me to my former living and dignity where as an obedient subject I vow to continue hereafter loyal to her royal person, to her crown, to her prerogatives, and to her English laws.

  O’Donnell Her English –?! Hey, steady on, man, steady –!

  O’Neill I do renounce and abjure all foreign power whatever and all kind of dependency upon any other potentate but Her Majesty, the Queen of England, France and Ireland –

  O’Donnell (reading) And do vow to serve her faithfully against any foreign power invading her kingdom; and especially do I abjure and renounce all manner of dependency upon the King of Spain and shall be ready with the uttermost of my ability to serve Her Majesty against him or any of his forces or confederates.

  O’Neill I do resign all claim and title to any lands but such as shall now be granted to me; and lastly I offer to the Queen and to her magistrates here my full assistance in anything that may tend to the advancement of her service and the peaceable government of this kingdom.

  O’Donnell (reading) Particularly will I help in the abolishing of all barbarous Gaelic customs which are the seeds of all incivility.

  O’Neill And for the clearing of all difficult passages and places –