by Brian Friel
(OWEN enters. As he crosses the room he touches and has a word for each person.)
OWEN: Doalty! (Playful punch.) How are you, boy? Jacobe, quid agis? Are you well?
JIMMY: Fine. Fine.
OWEN: And Bridget! Give us a kiss. Aaaaaah!
BRIDGET: You’re welcome, Owen.
OWEN: It’s not –? Yes, it is Maire Chatach! God! A young woman!
MAIRE: How are you, Owen?
(OWEN is now in front of HUGH. He puts his two hands on his FATHER’s shoulders.)
OWEN: And how’s the old man himself?
HUGH: Fair – fair.
OWEN: Fair? For God’s sake you never looked better! Come here to me.
(He embraces HUGH warmly and genuinely.) Great to see you, Father. Great to be back.
(HUGH’s eyes are moist – partly joy, partly the drink.)
HUGH: I – I’m – I’m – pay no attention to –
OWEN: Come on – come on – come on – (He gives HUGH his handkerchief.) Do you know what you and I are going to do tonight? We are going to go up to Anna na mBreag’s …
DOALTY: Not there, Owen.
OWEN: Why not?
DOALTY: Her poteen’s worse than ever.
BRIDGET: They say she puts frogs in it!
OWEN: All the better. (To HUGH) And you and I are going to get footless drunk. That’s arranged.
(OWEN sees MANUS coming down the steps with tea and soda bread. They meet at the bottom.)
And Manus!
MANUS: You’re welcome, Owen.
OWEN: I know I am. And it’s great to be here. (He turns round, arms outstretched.) I can’t believe it. I come back after six years and everything’s just as it was! Nothing’s changed! Not a thing! (Sniffs.) Even that smell – that’s the same smell this place always had. What is it anyway? Is it the straw?
DOALTY: Jimmy Jack’s feet.
(General laughter. It opens little pockets of conversation round the room.)
OWEN: And Doalty Dan Doalty hasn’t changed either!
DOALTY: Bloody right, Owen.
OWEN: Jimmy, are you well?
JIMMY: Dodging about.
OWEN: Any word of the big day?
(This is greeted with ‘ohs’ and ‘ahs’.)
Time enough, Jimmy. Homer’s easier to live with, isn’t he?
MAIRE: We heard stories that you own ten big shops in Dublin – is it true?
OWEN: Only nine.
BRIDGET: And you’ve twelve horses and six servants.
OWEN: Yes – that’s true. God Almighty, would you listen to them – taking a hand at me!
MANUS: When did you arrive?
OWEN: We left Dublin yesterday morning, spent last night in Omagh and got here half an hour ago.
MANUS: You’re hungry then.
HUGH: Indeed – get him food – get him a drink.
OWEN: Not now, thanks; later. Listen – am I interrupting you all?
HUGH: By no means. We’re finished for the day.
OWEN: Wonderful. I’ll tell you why. Two friends of mine are waiting outside the door. They’d like to meet you and I’d like you to meet them. May I bring them in?
HUGH: Certainly. You’ll all eat and have …
OWEN: Not just yet, Father. You’ve seen the sappers working in this area for the past fortnight, haven’t you? Well, the older man is Captain Lancey …
HUGH: I’ve met Captain Lancey.
OWEN: Great. He’s the cartographer in charge of this whole area. Cartographer – James?
(OWEN begins to play this game – his father’s game – partly to involve his classroom audience, partly to show he has not forgotten it, and indeed partly because he enjoys it.)
JIMMY: A maker of maps.
OWEN: Indeed – and the younger man that I travelled with from Dublin, his name is Lieutenant Yolland and he is attached to the toponymic department – Father? – responde – responde!
HUGH: He gives names to places.
OWEN: Indeed – although he is in fact an orthographer – Doalty? – too slow – Manus?
MANUS: The correct spelling of those names.
OWEN: Indeed – indeed!
(OWEN laughs and claps his hands. Some of the others join in.)
Beautiful! Beautiful! Honest to God, it’s such a delight to be back here with you all again – ‘civilized’ people. Anyhow – may I bring them in?
HUGH: Your friends are our friends.
OWEN: I’ll be straight back.
There is general talk as OWEN goes towards the door. He stops beside SARAH.)
OWEN: That’s a new face. Who are you?
(A very brief hesitation. Then: –)
SARAH: My name is Sarah.
OWEN: Sarah who?
SARAH: Sarah Johnny Sally.
OWEN: Of course! From Bun na hAbhann! I’m Owen – Owen Hugh Mor. From Baile Beag. Good to see you.
(During this OWEN – SARAH exchange.)
HUGH: Come on now. Let’s tidy this place up. (He rubs the top of his table with his sleeve.) Move, Doalty – lift those books off the floor.
DOALTY: Right, Master; certainly, Master; I’m doing my best, Master.
(OWEN stops at the door.)
OWEN: One small thing, Father.
HUGH: Silentium!
OWEN: I’m on their pay-roll.
(SARAH, very elated at her success, is beside MANUS.)
SARAH: I said it, Manus!
(MANUS ignores SARAH. He is much more interested in OWEN now.)
MANUS: You haven’t enlisted, have you?!
(SARAH moves away.)
OWEN: Me a soldier? I’m employed as a part-time, underpaid, civilian interpreter. My job is to translate the quaint, archaic tongue you people persist in speaking into the King’s good English.
(He goes out.)
HUGH: Move – move – move! Put some order on things! Come on, Sarah – hide that bucket. Whose are these slates? Somebody take these dishes away. Festinate! Festinate!
(MANUS goes to MAIRE who is busy tidying.)
MANUS: You didn’t tell me you were definitely leaving.
MAIRE: Not now.
HUGH: Good girl, Bridget. That’s the style.
MANUS: You might at least have told me.
HUGH: Are these your books, James?
JIMMY: Thank you.
MANUS: Fine! Fine! Go ahead! Go ahead!
MAIRE: You talk to me about getting married – with neither a roof over your head nor a sod of ground under your foot. I suggest you go for the new school; but no – ‘My father’s in for that.’ Well now he’s got it and now this is finished and now you’ve nothing.
MANUS: I can always …
MAIRE: What? Teach classics to the cows? Agh –
(MAIRE moves away from MANUS. OWEN enters with LANCEY and YOLLAND. CAPTAIN LANCEY is middle-aged; a small, crisp officer, expert in his field as cartographer but uneasy with people – especially civilians, especially these foreign civilians. His skill is with deeds, not words. LIEUTENANT YOLLAND is in his late twenties/early thirties. He is tall and thin and gangling, blond hair, a shy, awkward manner. A soldier by accident.)
OWEN: Here we are. Captain Lancey – my father.
LANCEY: Good evening.
(HUGH becomes expansive, almost courtly, with his visitors.)
HUGH: You and I have already met, sir.
LANCEY: Yes.
OWEN: And Lieutenant Yolland – both Royal Engineers – my father.
HUGH: You’re very welcome, gentlemen.
YOLLAND: How do you do.
HUGH: Gaudeo vos hic adesse.
OWEN: And I’ll make no other introductions except that these are some of the people of Baile Beag and – what? – well you’re among the best people in Ireland now. (He pauses to allow LANCEY to speak. LANCEY does not.) Would you like to say a few words, Captain?
HUGH: What about a drop, sir?
LANCEY: A what?
HUGH: Perhaps a modest refreshment? A little sampling of our
aqua vitae?
LANCEY: No, no.
HUGH: Later perhaps when –
LANCEY: I’ll say what I have to say, if I may, and as briefly as possible. Do they speak any English, Roland?
OWEN: Don’t worry. I’ll translate.
LANCEY: I see. (He clears his throat. He speaks as if he were addressing children – a shade too loudly and enunciating excessively.) You may have seen me – seen me – working in this section – section? – working. We are here – here – in this place – you understand? – to make a map – a map – a map and –
JIMMY: Nonne Latine loquitur?
(HUGH holds up a restraining hand.)
HUGH: James.
LANCEY: (To JIMMY) I do not speak Gaelic, sir.
(He looks at OWEN.)
OWEN: Carry on.
LANCEY: A map is a representation on paper – a picture – you understand picture? – a paper picture – showing, representing this country – yes? – showing your country in miniature – a scaled drawing on paper of – of – of –
(Suddenly DOALTY sniggers. Then BRIDGET. Then SARAH. OWEN leaps in quickly.)
OWEN: It might be better if you assume they understand you –
LANCEY: Yes?
OWEN: And I’ll translate as you go along.
LANCEY: I see. Yes. Very well. Perhaps you’re right. Well. What we are doing is this. (He looks at OWEN. OWEN nods reassuringly.) His Majesty’s government has ordered the first ever comprehensive survey of this entire country – a general triangulation which will embrace detailed hydrographic and topographic information and which will be executed to a scale of six inches to the English mile.
HUGH: (Pouring a drink) Excellent – excellent.
(LANCEY looks at OWEN.)
OWEN: A new map is being made of the whole country.
(LANCEY looks to OWEN: Is that all? OWEN smiles reassuringly and indicates to proceed.)
LANCEY: This enormous task has been embarked on so that the military authorities will be equipped with up-to-date and accurate information on every corner of this part of the Empire.
OWEN: The job is being done by soldiers because they are skilled in this work.
LANCEY: And also so that the entire basis of land valuation can be reassessed for purposes of more equitable taxation.
OWEN: This new map will take the place of the estate agent’s map so that from now on you will know exactly what is yours in law.
LANCEY: In conclusion I wish to quote two brief extracts from the white paper which is our governing charter: (Reads) ‘All former surveys of Ireland originated in forfeiture and violent transfer of property; the present survey has for its object the relief which can be afforded to the proprietors and occupiers of land from unequal taxation.’
OWEN: The captain hopes that the public will cooperate with the sappers and that the new map will mean that taxes are reduced.
HUGH: A worthy enterprise – opus honestum! And Extract B?
LANCEY: ‘Ireland is privileged. No such survey is being undertaken in England. So this survey cannot but be received as proof of the disposition of this government to advance the interests of Ireland.’ My sentiments, too.
OWEN: This survey demonstrates the government’s interest in Ireland and the captain thanks you for listening so attentively to him.
HUGH: Our pleasure, Captain.
LANCEY: Lieutenant Yolland?
YOLLAND: I – I – I’ve nothing to say – really –
OWEN: The captain is the man who actually makes the new map. George’s task is to see that the place-names on this map are … correct. (To YOLLAND.) Just a few words – they’d like to hear you. (To class.) Don’t you want to hear George, too?
MAIRE: Has he anything to say?
YOLLAND: (To MAIRE) Sorry – sorry?
OWEN: She says she’s dying to hear you.
YOLLAND: (To MAIRE) Very kind of you – thank you … (To class) I can only say that I feel – I feel very foolish to – to – to be working here and not to speak your language. But I intend to rectify that – with Roland’s help – indeed I do.
OWEN: He wants me to teach him Irish!
HUGH: You are doubly welcome, sir.
YOLLAND: I think your countryside is – is – is – is very beautiful. I’ve fallen in love with it already. I hope we’re not too – too crude an intrusion on your lives. And I know that I’m going to be happy, very happy, here.
OWEN: He is already a committed Hibernophile –
JIMMY: He loves –
OWEN: All right, Jimmy – we know – he loves Baile Beag; and he loves you all.
HUGH: Please … May I…?
(HUGH is now drunk. He holds on to the edge of the table.)
OWEN: Go ahead, Father. (Hands up for quiet.) Please – please.
HUGH: And we, gentlemen, we in turn are happy to offer you our friendship, our hospitality, and every assistance that you may require. Gentlemen – welcome!
(A few desultory claps. The formalities are over. General conversation. The soldiers meet the locals. MANUS and OWEN meet down stage.)
OWEN: Lancey’s a bloody ramrod but George’s all right. How are you anyway?
MANUS: What sort of a translation was that, Owen?
OWEN: Did I make a mess of it?
MANUS: You weren’t saying what Lancey was saying!
OWEN: ‘Uncertainty in meaning is incipient poetry’ – who said that?
MANUS: There was nothing uncertain about what Lancey said: it’s a bloody military operation, Owen! And what’s Yolland’s function? What’s ‘incorrect’ about the place-names we have here?
OWEN: Nothing at all. They’re just going to be standardized.
MANUS: You mean changed into English?
OWEN: Where there’s ambiguity, they’ll be Anglicized.
MANUS: And they call you Roland! They both call you Roland!
OWEN: Shhhhh. Isn’t it ridiculous? They seemed to get it wrong from the very beginning – or else they can’t pronounce Owen. I was afraid some of you bastards would laugh.
MANUS: Aren’t you going to tell them?
OWEN: Yes – yes – soon – soon.
MANUS: But they …
OWEN: Easy, man, easy. Owen – Roland – what the hell. It’s only a name. It’s the same me, isn’t it? Well, isn’t it?
MANUS: Indeed it is. It’s the same Owen.
OWEN: And the same Manus. And in a way we complement each other. (He punches MANUS lightly, playfully and turns to join the others. As he goes.) All right – who has met whom? Isn’t this a job for the go-between?
(MANUS watches OWEN move confidently across the floor, taking MAIRE by the hand and introducing her to YOLLAND. HUGH is trying to negotiate the steps. JIMMY is lost in a text. DOALTY and BRIDGET are reliving their giggling. SARAH is staring at MANUS.)
ACT TWO
SCENE I
The sappers have already mapped most of the area. YOLLAND’s official task, which OWEN is now doing, is to take each of the Gaelic names – every hill, stream, rock, even every patch of ground which possessed its own distinctive Irish name – and Anglicize it, either by changing it into its approximate English sound or by translating it into English words. For example, a Gaelic name like Cnoc Ban could become Knockban or – directly translated – Fair Hill. These new standardized names were entered into the Name-Book, and when the new maps appeared they contained all these new Anglicized names. OWEN’s official function as translator is to pronounce each name in Irish and then provide the English translation.
The hot weather continues. It is late afternoon some days later.
Stage right: an improvised clothes-line strung between the shafts of the cart and a nail in the wall; on it are some shirts and socks.
A large map – one of the new blank maps – is spread out on the floor. OWEN is on his hands and knees, consulting it. He is totally engrossed in his task which he pursues with great energy and efficiency.
YOLLAND’S hesitancy has vanished – he
is at home here now. He is sitting on the floor, his long legs stretched out before him, his back resting against a creel, his eyes closed. His mind is elsewhere. One of the reference books – a church registry – lies open on his lap.
Around them are various reference books, the Name-Book, a bottle of poteen, some cups, etc.
OWEN completes an entry in the Name-Book and returns to the map on the floor.
OWEN: Now. Where have we got to? Yes – the point where that stream enters the sea – that tiny little beach there. George!
YOLLAND: Yes. I’m listening. What do you call it? Say the Irish name again?
OWEN: Bun na hAbhann.
YOLLAND: Again.
OWEN: Bun na hAbhann.
YOLLAND: Bun na hAbhann.
OWEN: That’s terrible, George.
YOLLAND: I know. I’m sorry. Say it again.
OWEN: Bun na hAbbann.
YOLLAND: Bun na hAbbann.
OWEN: That’s better. Bun is the Irish word for bottom. And Abha means river. So it’s literally the mouth of the river.
YOLLAND: Let’s leave it alone. There’s no English equivalent for a sound like that.
OWEN: What is it called in the church registry?
(Only now does YOLLAND open his eyes.)
YOLLAND: Let’s see … Banowen.
OWEN: That’s wrong. (Consults text.) The list of freeholders calls it Owenmore – that’s completely wrong: Owenmore’s the big river at the west end of the parish. (Another text.) And in the grand jury lists it’s called – God! – Binhone! – wherever they got that. I suppose we could Anglicize it to Bunowen; but somehow that’s neither fish nor flesh.
(YOLLAND closes his eyes again.)
YOLLAND: I give up.
OWEN: (At map) Back to first principles. What are we trying to do?
YOLLAND: Good question.
OWEN: We are trying to denominate and at the same time describe that tiny area of soggy, rocky, sandy ground where that little stream enters the sea, an area known locally as Bun na hAbhann … Burnfoot! What about Burnfoot?
YOLLAND: (Indifferently) Good, Roland, Burnfoot’s good.
OWEN: George, my name isn’t …
YOLLAND: B-u-r-n-f-o-o-t?
OWEN: Are you happy with that?
YOLLAND: Yes.
OWEN: Burnfoot it is then. (He makes the entry into the Name-Book.) Bun na hAbhann – B-u-r-n-
YOLLAND: You’re becoming very skilled at this.