Brian Friel Plays 2

by Brian Friel

  O’Donnell (reading) Which are the nurseries –

  O’Neill Which are the nurseries of rebellion. And I will endeavour to erect habitations –

  O’Donnell (reading) Civil habitations.

  O’Neill Civil habitations for myself and for the people of my country to preserve us against any force but the power of the state –

  O’Donnell (reading) By which power –

  O’Neill By which power we must rest assured to be preserved as long as we continue in our loyal and faithful duties to Her Majesty –

  O’Donnell (reading) To her most clement –

  O’Neill To her most clement, most gracious, most noble and most forgiving majesty.

  O’Donnell (reading) To whom I now most abjectly and most obediently offer my service and indeed … my life …

  Silence. Then O’Neill moves away as if to distance himself from what he has just said. O’Donnell is still on his knees.

  This is the end of it all, Hugh, isn’t it? (Pause.) Jesus. (He gets to his feet‚ brightening.) All the same they say she’s a peculiar woman, the Queen. Damn it, wouldn’t it be a good one if she believed you – eh?

  O’Neill She won’t believe me.

  O’Donnell But if she did! Damn it, I’d make a submission to her myself!

  O’Neill Belief has nothing to do with it. As Mabel says, she’ll use me if it suits her.

  O’Donnell And your people?

  O’Neill They’re much more pure, ‘my people’. Oh, no, they won’t believe me either. But they’ll pretend they believe me and then with ruthless Gaelic logic they’ll crucify me for betraying them.

  Harry enters. He looks quickly first at O’Neill and then at O’Donnell – they have not noticed his arrival. He then greets them with deliberate heartiness.

  Harry It wouldn’t be hard to surprise you two.

  O’Donnell Harry! How are you, man?

  Harry When did you get back?

  O’Donnell Just arrived.

  Harry We thought we had lost you – (to O’Neill) didn’t we?

  O’Donnell I tried to surrender to Dowcra but he wouldn’t take me.

  O’Neill How was the journey?

  Harry The journey was fine. We had a fine journey.

  O’Neill And the O Cathains were expecting her?

  Harry A big welcoming party. Everything quiet here?

  O’Neill She was in good form when you left her?

  Harry That’s a great place they have there, (to O’Donnell) Ethna O Cathain and your mother are cousins, aren’t they?

  O’Donnell Second cousins.

  Harry Yes, she mentioned that, (rummaging in his bag) And she sent you both some food: some oatmeal bread and milk and what’s this – biscuits – strange-looking biscuits –

  O’Neill They know exactly where I am?

  Harry Of course they know; raisins, flour –

  O’Neill And they’ll send me word immediately?

  Harry Yes. And she sent this specially to you, Hugh. (He hands over a bottle to O’Donnell.)

  O’Donnell Is it whiskey?

  Harry Ten year old.

  O’Donnell Decent woman, Ethna. And thank God I don’t put water in it.

  Harry Anybody else hungry?

  O’Neill No, thanks.

  O’Donnell (drinking) Good luck. Hugh?

  O’Neill Not for me.

  O’Donnell What’s the news about Dungiven, Harry?

  Harry (eating) Let me see. Nothing very much. Archbishop Lombard’s gone to Rome.

  O’Donnell For good?

  Harry They’ve invented some sort of job for him there.

  O’Donnell You may be sure aul Peter’ll always land on his feet.

  Harry And Archbishop Oviedo’s gone to England. The morning after Kinsale he headed straight for London to sweeten the authorities there – in case there’d be a backlash against the Catholics in England.

  O’Donnell They don’t miss a beat, those boys, do they? Beautiful stuff this. Sure you don’t want some, Hugh?

  Harry Leave some for the rest of us.

  O’Neill They have their own physicians, the O Cathains, haven’t they?

  Harry Sean O Coinne. I met him there. Seemed very competent. What else is new? Oh, yes, Sir Garret Moore wants to get in touch with you – I imagine at Mountjoy’s prompting. He wants to explore what areas of common interest might still exist between you and the crown. The pretext for getting you down to the Boyne is the first run of sea trout. If you were to go, I’m sure he’d have some civil servants there.

  O’Donnell So they do want to talk to you, Hugh. Mabel was right.

  Harry What else? … There’s a rumour that Mountjoy himself may be in trouble because of some woman in England – Lady Penelope Rich? – is that the name? Anyhow if the scandal becomes public they say Mountjoy may be recalled. What else was there …? Sean na bPunta is still going calmly round the country with his brown leather bag, collecting your rents as if the place weren’t in chaos! … Tadhg O Cianain is writing a book on the past ten years –

  O’Donnell Another history! Jesus, if we had as many scones of bread as we have historians!

  Harry It will be a very exact piece of work that Tadhg will produce … And portions of another book are being circulated and it seems the English government is paying a lot of attention to it. Written by an Englishman called Spenser who used to have a place down near the Ballyhouras mountains – wherever they are – I’m getting like you, Hugh – they’re in County Cork, aren’t they? – anyhow this Spenser was burned out in the troubles after the battle of the Yellow Ford … (He suddenly breaks down but continues speaking without stopping.) Oh, my God, Hugh, I don’t know how to say it to you – I don’t know how to tell you – we had only just arrived at O Cathain’s place –

  O’Donnell Harry –?

  Harry And the journey had been fine – she was in wonderful form – we sang songs most of the way – I taught her ‘Tabhair Dom Do Lamh’, Ruadhaire Dall’s song, because the O Cathains are relatives of his and she could show off before them and we laughed until we were sore at the way she pronounced the Irish words – and she taught me a Staffordshire ballad called ‘Lord Brand, He was a Gentleman’ and I tried to sing it in a Staffordshire accent – and she couldn’t have been better looked after – they were all waiting for her – Ethna, the doctor O Coinne, two midwives, half-a-dozen servants. And everything seemed perfectly normal – everything was fine. She said if the baby was a boy she was going to call it Nicholas after her father and if it was a girl she was going to call it Joan after your mother – and when Ethna asked her were you thinking of going into exile she got very agitated and she said, ‘Hugh?’ She said, ‘Hugh would never betray his people’ – and just then, quite normally, quite naturally, she went into labour – and whatever happened – I still don’t really know – whatever happened, something just wasn’t right, Hugh. The baby lived for about an hour – it was a boy – but she never knew it had died – and shortly afterwards Ethna was sitting on a stool right beside her bed, closer than I am to you – and she was sleeping very peacefully – and then she gave a long sigh as if she were very tired and when Ethna put her hand on her cheek … It wasn’t possible to get word to you – it all happened so quickly – herself and the baby within two hours – the doctor said something about poisoning of the blood – Oh, God, I’m so sorry for you – I’m so sorry for all of us. I loved her, too – you know that – from the very first day we met her – remember that day in May? – her twentieth birthday? – she was wearing a blue dress with a white lace collar and white lace cuffs … If you had seen her laid out she looked like a girl of fourteen, she was just so beautiful … God have mercy on her. God have mercy on all of us.

  Long silence.

  O’Neill (almost in a whisper) Yes, I think I’ll take some of that whiskey now, Hugh. Just a thimbleful, if you please. And no water. Oh, dear God …

  Quick black.

  SCENE TWO

  O’Neill�
�s apartment in Rome many years later.

  When the scene opens the only light on the stage is a candle on a large desk. This is Lombard’s desk; littered with papers; and in the centre is a large book – the history. The room is scantily furnished – a small table, some chairs, a stool, a couch.

  O’Neill is now in his early sixties. His eyesight is beginning to trouble him – he carries a walking stick. And he drinks too much. We first hear his raucous shouting off. When he enters we see that he is slightly drunk. His temper is volatile and bitter and dangerous. He is carrying a lighted taper.

  O’Neill (off) Anybody at home? Harry? Why are there no damned lights out here? (now on) Catriona? Your slightly inebriated husband is back! I really shouldn’t have had that last bottle of – (He bumps into a stool and knocks it over. As he straightens it:) Forgive me, I do beg your pardon. Perhaps you could assist me, signor. Am I in the right building? You see, I’m a foreigner in your city, an émigré from Ireland in fact – yes, yes, Irlanda. Ah! You’ve been there? Bella, indeed: indeed bellissima; you are very kind. What’s that? Oh, yes, that is perfectly true – everybody does love us. And I’ll tell you why, my friend: because we are a most attractive and a most loyal people. Now, if you’d be so kind, I’m trying to make my way to the Palazzo dei Penitenzieri which is between the Via della Conciliazione and the Borgo Santo Spirito where I live with – (He breaks off suddenly because, holding his taper up high, he finds himself standing at the desk and looking down at the book. He stares at it for a few seconds. Very softly) The right building indeed. Home. Everything is in order … (He takes a few steps away from the desk and calls:) Archbishop? Harry? (No answer. He returns to the book and turns it round so that he can read it. He leans over the page, his face close to it and reads:) ‘In the name of God. Herewith I set my hand to chronicle the life of Hugh O’Neill, Earl of Tyrone, son of Feardorcha, son of Conn Bacagh, son of Conn Mor, noblest son of noble lineage who was fostered and brought up by the highborn nobles of his tribe, the O’Hagans and the O’Quinns, and who continued to grow and increase in comeliness and urbanity, tact and eloquence, wisdom and knowledge, goodly size and noble deeds, so that his name and fame spread throughout the five provinces of Ireland and beyond –’ (Suddenly, violently, angrily he swings away from the desk. He bellows:) Where the hell is everybody? Catriona? Your devoted earl is home! (He listens. There is no sound.) At vespers, no doubt. Or in the arms of some sweaty Roman with a thick neck and bushy stomach. (He goes to the small table and lights the candles there. Then he empties the dregs from two empty bottles into a wine glass. As he does these things:) Enormously popular in this city, my Countess. Of course she is still attractive – indeed all the more attractive since she has gone ever so slightly, almost judiciously, to seed; no doubt an intuitive response to the Roman preference for over-ripeness. Curious people, these Romans: they even find her vulgar Scottish accent charming. Happily for them they don’t understand a word she … (With the glass in his hand he has drifted back to – cannot resist the pull of – the open book. Again myopically he leans over it and reads:) ‘And people reflected in their minds that when he would reach manhood there would not be one like him of the Irish to avenge their wrongs and punish the plunderings of his race. For it was foretold by prophets and by predictors of futurity that there would come one like him –

  A man, glorious, pure, faithful above all

  Who will cause mournful weeping in every territory.

  He will be a God-like prince

  And he will be king for the span of –’

  He shuts the book in fury.

  Damn you, Archbishop! But this is one battle I am not going to lose! (Wheeling away from the table, he bellows:) Where the hell is everybody?! Catriona, you bitch, where are you? Haaaa-reeee!

  He turns round. Harry is at his elbow. He is embarrassed.

  Ah, there you are. Why do you keep hiding on me? Where the hell is everybody?

  Harry Catriona has gone out. She says –

  O’Neill (furious again) Out! Out! Tell me when the hell my accommodating wife is ever in! (softly) Sorry.

  Harry And the Archbishop is upstairs. You were to have spent the afternoon with him.

  O’Neill Why would I have done that?

  Harry He wanted confirmation of some details.

  O’Neill What are you talking about?

  Harry For his history.

  O’Neill ‘His history’! Damn his history. I haven’t eaten all day, Harry. I suppose I ought to be hungry.

  Harry Let me get you –

  O’Neill No, I don’t want food. What’s happened here since morning?

  Harry A reply from the King of Spain.

  O’Neill Wonderful!

  Harry Eventually. Thanking you for your last three letters –

  O’Neill But –

  Harry But reminding you again that England and Spain have signed a peace treaty. It’s fragile but it’s holding.

  O’Neill The King of Spain has betrayed us, Harry.

  Harry He believes that the interests of Ireland and Spain are best served by ‘inactión’.

  O’Neill Inacción.

  Harry And he urges you to remain in Rome for the time being.

  O’Neill I have remained in Rome for the time being at his insistence for the past eight years!

  Harry He says he values your Christian patience.

  O’Neill (shouting) He values my Christian –! (softly) I’m going to die in this damned town, Harry. You do know that, don’t you? And be buried here, beside my son, in the church of San Pietro. (He laughs.) The drink makes God-like princes maudlin.

  Harry Not a good day?

  O’Neill Oh, wonderful! Animating! The usual feverish political activity and intellectual excitement. First I walked to the top of the Janiculum hill. Then I walked down again. Then I stood in line at the office of the Papal Secretary and picked up my paltry papal pension and bowed and said, ‘Grazie. Grazie molto.’ Then I stood in line at the office of the Spanish Embassy and picked up my paltry Spanish pension and bowed and said, ‘Gracias. Muchas gracias’. And then I – (He breaks off, points to the ceiling.) The Archbishop?

  Harry nods yes.

  (whispering) Then I spent a most agreeable hour with Maria the Neapolitan.

  Harry That’s a new name.

  O’Neill Yes. Wonderful girl, Maria. Steeped in Greek mythology and speaks half-a-dozen languages. Anyhow I left some of my money with her; Spanish money, of course. And when I was leaving, d’you know what she said to me, Harry? ‘Grazie, signor. Grazie molto.’

  Harry laughs.

  She did. And I believe she meant it. I’m an old man – I was flattered momentarily.

  Harry And then you met Neachtain O Domhnaill and Christopher Plunkett.

  O’Neill Have you been spying on me?

  Harry They were here this morning looking for you.

  O’Neill And we spent the afternoon together – as you can see.

  Harry O Domhnaill was drunk when he was here.

  O’Neill And once more we went over the master plan to raise an army and retake Ireland. Spain will provide the men, France will supply the artillery and the Pope will pay for the transportation. Naturally O’Neill of Tyrone will lead the liberating host. But because my eyesight is less than perfect, Plunkett will ride a few paces ahead of me. And because Plunkett’s hearing is less than perfet, O Domhnaill will ride a few paces ahead of him. O Domhnaill’s delirium tremens has got to be overlooked because he refuses to acknowledge it himself. Our estimate is that it may take the best part of a day to rout the English – perhaps two if they put up a fight. The date of embarkation – May 19: you see, the eighteenth is pension day.

  Harry What drinking house were you in?

  O’Neill Pedro Blanco’s. Full as usual. Plunkett insisted the customers were all Englishmen, disguised as Romans, spying on us. And so for security reasons our master plan has been code-named – this was O Domhnaill’s only inspiration – Operation Turf Mould …
I can’t stand it much longer, Harry. I think my mind is beginning to … Maybe I should eat something.

  Harry Good. I’ll get you –

  O’Neill Not now. Later. If you would be so kind – (He holds out his glass for Harry to fill.)

  Harry Sorry, Hugh. We’re out of wine. There’s no wine in the house.

  O’Neill Why?

  Harry (reluctantly) The supplier turned me away this afternoon. I’m afraid we’ve run out of credit.

  O’Neill Who is this supplier?

  Harry His name is Carlo something. We’ve always dealt with him. His place is at the back of –

  O’Neill And he refused you?

  Harry We already owe him eight hundred ducats.

  O’Neill He refused you?

  Harry He’s a decent man but he has six young children.

  O’Neill (shouting) Don’t be so damned elusive, Harry. (softly) Did this fellow refuse you?

  Harry He refused me.

  O’Neill And he knew who the wine was for?

  Harry I’m sure he did.

  O’Neill Did you tell him the wine was for Hugh O’Neill?

  Harry I’ve been going to him ever since we –

  O’Neill Did you specifically tell him the wine was for Hugh O’Neill?

  Harry Yes, of course he knew the wine was for Hugh O’Neill and what he said was that Hugh O’Neill’s credit was finished – no payment, no wine. And you might as well know, too, that we owe money to Catriona’s tailor and to the baker and that the rent in this place is six months overdue.

  O’Neill (icily) You’re shouting at me, Harry.

  Harry Sorry. I can’t stand it much longer either, Hugh.

  O’Neill And perhaps this is as good a time as any to take a look at how you’re squandering the money I entrust to you to manage my affairs, or perhaps more importantly why you’re squandering that money. Because my suspicion is that this isn’t just your customary ineptitude in money matters –

  Harry goes to the door.

  Harry We’ll talk tomorrow, Hugh.

  O’Neill What I suspect is that the pride you once professed in being a servant of the O’Neill is long gone – and I suppose that’s understandable: I can’t be of much use to you any more, can I?