Collected Plays and Teleplays (Irish Literature)

by Flann O'Brien

  TOWN CLERK: But yesterday wasn’t much of a day. Divil a bit of good yesterday ever did the spring wheat.

  SHAW: (Blankly.) I beg your pardon?

  TOWN CLERK: (Taken somewhat aback.) The weather wasn’t up to the mark yesterday, sir.

  SHAW: Nao, the weather in Ireland is rather a bad show. By the way, may I take the liberty of introducing myself? My name is Captain Shaw. I have just arrived from the other side. Had a very rough passage too, by Jove.

  TOWN CLERK: I see.

  SHAW: Bad show, you know, fearfully trying on the stomach. Frightful business if you don’t happen to be a good sailor.

  TOWN CLERK: (Behind divan, rising and extending his hand.) I’m terribly glad to meet you Captain Shaw. I won’t worry you with me own name because I’m only the Town Clerk of this town——

  SHAW: Ao!

  TOWN CLERK: (Moving left towards fire.) And this gentleman, Captain, is de Chairman. De Chairman of de Council, Captain.

  SHAW: Ao. (He bows in a formal courtly way.) Terribly charmed to meet you, I am sure.

  KELLY: (Relaxing and perceiving an opportunity for further political ranting.) I am glad to know you, Captain, very glad to have the privilege of your acquaintance. It always gives me pleasure to welcome to Ireland one of our cousins from across the wave.

  (TOWN CLERK stands at fire.)

  SHAW: Ao, really?

  KELLY: I always feel that in every visitor from England we have a unique opportunity to propagate amity and goodwill between the two islands, a chance to undo centuries of distrust and ill-feeling, a God-given opportunity to bring the simple and just claims of our land to the notice of the mighty nation that lives and has its being at the other side of the Irish Sea (he advances)—a chance, if I may make so bold as to say so, to show the English people, without malice or rancour, mark you, what they owe us before the sight of God and how they may pay it to us. In a work, how we may still be friends after seven dark centuries of oppression.

  TOWN CLERK: (Impatiently, feeling that KELLY’S address is unsuitable.) Yerrah, Chairman, that’s another story. That’s a different day’s work altogether. (He sits down at fire.)

  SHAW: (Somewhat at sea.) Yes, quite right, quite right. Quite right. (He sits down uneasily.)

  KELLY: (Warming to his subject again.) And please, Captain, let there be no misunderstanding on this matter. Some people will tell you that I am anti-English—

  SHAW: Ao!

  KELLY: —that I cherish for the great English nation nothing but venom . . . and scorn . . . and contempt.

  SHAW: Ao?

  KELLY: What is my answer? My answer is that nothing could be farther from the truth. It is a lie. For the land of England I cherish feelings of the warmest regard. For the people who dwell there, the love and respect that is due to their dignity as human beings, the admiration that is due to those who have worked hard and well in the pursuit of material, if not spiritual, happiness. But what shall I say of the class that is in power in that fair and fertile land?——

  SHAW: (At sea.) Ao?

  TOWN CLERK: (With mock enthusiasm.) Hear, hear! Hear, hear!

  KELLY: (Accepting this as genuine and waxing even more rhetorical.) What shall I say of those who are charged before God with the rule and government of the English nation, not to mention its dominions, dependencies, mandates and colonies beyond the seas? What shall I say of the corrupt, misguided, obtuse and venal time-servers, who have brought, through a travesty of justice and government, shame and dishonour on the British flag? With what scornful word or phrase shall I stigmatise at the bar of history the interventions of successive British Governments in the affairs of my own country—IRELAND, the lamp of civilisation at a time when Europe sat in darkness, cradle of the faith and home of the martyrs. With what pitiless and inexorable terminology will I lash and lash again these debased minions who have presumed to tamper with our historic race, to drive millions of our kith and kin in coffin-ships across the seven seas to dwell in an alien clime with the naked savage, who have destroyed our industries and our crafts and our right to develop our national resources, who have not hesitated to violate the sacred tabernacle of our nation to steal therefrom, defile and destroy our melodious and kingly language—THE IRISH LANGUAGE—our sole badge of nationhood, our only historic link with the giants of our national past—Niall of the Nine Hostages, who penetrated to the Alps in his efforts to spread the Gospel, Kind Cormac of Cashel, Confessor, Saint and lawgiver, heroic St. Laurence O’Toole who is the Patron Saint of Ireland’s greatest city, and Patrick Sarsfield, who rode by night to destroy, no matter at what risk to himself, the hated foreigner’s powder-train at Ballyneety! With what appalling and frightening curse, Captain Shaw, will I invoke the righteous anger of the Almighty against these wicked men who live in gilded palaces in England, cradled in luxury and licentious extravagance, knowing nothing and caring nothing for either the English masses, the historic and indefeasible Irish nation, the naked Negro in distant and distressed India or the New Zealand pigmy on his native shore? With what stern word will I invoke the righteous anger of Almighty God upon their heads, Captain Shaw?

  TOWN CLERK: Glory be to God!

  SHAW: (Very uneasy.) Really, old man, that’s a bit strong, you know. After all, you know, there are some very nice chaps in London. I wish you would meet some of my friends there. Of course, Ireland got a very poor show at one time, there is no getting away from that, the country was mishandled from the start. No country in the world would be more loyal if they got a good show. The English and the Irish should get together, you know, old man, because they’re nice people—damn nice people.

  (Pause. KELLY walks over and shakes the astonished SHAW by the hand.)

  KELLY: And nobly said, Captain, I admire a man who will fight his corner. I respect a gallant foe. Please do not think that I am suggesting that all knavery, corruption and governmental incompetence is concentrated in the land of England. Alas, poor old Ireland has her own share of it too. In this country, too, Captain, we have the grossest abuses in high places. We have double-dealing, backstairs influences . . . cliques . . . (he gestures) . . . bad blood between brothers . . . corrupt and debased ruffians in every quarter working to sell the pass. . . .

  (He breaks off. MRS. MARGARET CROCKETT has just hurried in from left. She is a coarse, dowdy lady of about 35, somewhat stout and vulgarly dressed. She pauses as she enters, astounded at seeing CAPTAIN SHAW. KELLY stands silent, ignorant of what the position is.)

  MARGARET: (To SHAW, excitedly.) What, James? YOU!

  (She hurries over to shake hands. He rises with well-bred sang-froid and suddenly becomes somewhat stern.)

  SHAW: Hullo, Margaret. How are you?

  MARGARET: Very well, James. How are you?

  (KELLY begins to come forward.)

  SHAW: Quite fit, thank you, Margaret, quite fit. And you’re looking in the pink yourself. I sent you a telegram. Did you not get it?

  MARGARET: I only got it this morning a short time ago. I thought you’d be on the seven train in the evening. I could have sent the car if I knew you were coming.

  SHAW: Ao.

  MARGARET: It’s a great surprise to see you, James. I don’t think we have seen each other since Daddy’s funeral and that’s a long time ago.

  SHAW: I believe you’re right, Margaret. And that is quite a time, isn’t it? By the way—(He pauses and glances round at KELLY and the TOWN CLERK.)—by the way, Margaret, I should like to talk to you about something very important.

  MARGARET: (Coming between SHAW and KELLY.) Yes. You know these gentlemen? They are friends of mine, very special friends—(Indicating KELLY.) This is the Chairman of the Urban Council in person. And this is his officer, the Town Clerk. (She turns to KELLY and indicates SHAW.) This is my brother, Captain Shaw.

  (KELLY and TOWN CLERK are astonished.)

  KELLY: Your brother! I didn’t know you had a brother, Margaret. You never told me.

  TOWN CLERK: Well, do you know, there’s a fam
ily resemblance there all right.

  MARGARET: (Smiling.) Well, you know, out of sight, out of mind. I haven’t seen James for nearly eighteen years. James lives in England and has lived there nearly all his life. (She becomes anxious suddenly.) There’s nothing wrong, James, is there? (Sits on divan. KELLY, TOWN CLERK and SHAW sit.)

  SHAW: Ao, nao. I just dashed across to have a talk with you, Margaret. A heart-to-heart chat, you know, old girl.

  KELLY: Ah, yes. I see. I see.

  TOWN CLERK: Ah, sure the family tie is a grand thing.

  SHAW: Black Show, all right, breaking up of the home and the scattering of the family and all that. D’you know, I feel quite a foreigner here. And yet I’m Irish, aren’t I?

  TOWN CLERK: Yerrah, Captain, wait till you get a drop of the good ould creature into you. That’ll make you feel Irish again, that and a good feed of Cork crubeens.

  SHAW: Ao, really?

  KELLY: (Rising, with an air of briskness.) Now, Town Clerk, this is no place for us. Family conferences as I understand them must be conducted in strict privacy. Any other person, intimate friend of the family though he be, must in no circumstances intrude or violate that intimate and sacred privacy. Captain Shaw, I hope and pray I will have the pleasure and the privilege of meeting you again before you depart from our midst. (SHAW and MARGARET rise.)

  SHAW: (Bowing.) A great pleasure, I am sure, old man.

  TOWN CLERK: Well, we’ll skidaddle, me an’ the Chairman. Let ye have ye’r talk here in peace. (He moves to door, left.)

  MARGARET: Well, it’s a shame to be pushing you out like this but James doesn’t come to see me everyday.

  SHAW: Yes, you chaps, rather black shoe crowding you out, you know, but I want to talk to my sister here about a blighter called Kelly. The old girl hasn’t been behaving very sensibly, I’m afraid. A very bad hat, I’m told.

  TOWN CLERK: (Astounded.) Well, glory be to God!

  (KELLY has stopped in his track at the door and turned round, gaping.)

  MARGARET: James!

  KELLY: What?

  MARGARET: James! What are you saying? This is Mr. Kelly. (KELLY steps back a few paces into the room.)

  MARGARET: (Coming over excitedly between KELLY and SHAW.) James, what on earth do you mean? This is Mr. Kelly.

  KELLY: My name is Kelly. (He strikes his breast.) I’m Kelly!

  SHAW: Ao, I say, look here——

  MARGARET: (Shrilly.) James, what nonsense is this you’re talking? Mr. Kelly is a friend of mine. Has some scandal-giver in this town been writing to you?

  TOWN CLERK: Begor, I wouldn’t put it past Reilly.

  SHAW: (Stiffening.) Margaret, kindly stand aside. (He approaches KELLY, gently pushing his sister out of the way.) Do I take it that you are the same Kelly who is going forward as an Irish M.P.?

  KELLY: (Defiantly.) I have been persuaded by friends that it is my duty to offer them my services as their representative in Doll Erin.

  SHAW: Very good. Then we know each other, we know where we are. Allow me to tell you, sir, that you are a cad.

  MARGARET: (Distressed.) James!

  SHAW: (Ignoring her.) Do you hear me? A cad, a rotter and a bounder!

  KELLY: (Angrily.) How dare you talk to me like that! How dare you!

  SHAW: I have not finished with you, sir. I have called you a cad. I now call you an unspeakable cur.

  KELLY: (Shouting to MARGARET and striding past SHAW to the other side of the stage.) What the devil is this all about? How dare you use language like that to me! Margaret, what is wrong with this man?

  SHAW: (Facing sternly to KELLY again.) Kindly leave my sister out of this. You have damaged and destroyed her fair name enough already. If you were a younger man I should invite you to step outside. What your type of person wants is a damn good hiding——

  TOWN CLERK: (Coming forward uneasily.) Now for God’s sake we don’t want any fightin’. What we want is explanations. Explanations.

  MARGARET: (Retreating and collapsing in despair in armchair near fire.) O, my God!

  KELLY: (In a hard, low voice.) You say that your name is Captain Shaw. Very good. I am trying to keep my temper. I demand—and at once—an explanation of your last calumnious and insulting utterance. Otherwise I will have to consider asking the Town Clerk to call a Guard. I will have you given in charge for criminal libel!

  MARGARET: (Moaning.) O dear, dear, dear.

  SHAW: I’ll tell you very briefly what you are, you cad. My sister, Margaret, does not understand the world. You have destroyed her good name. You have spent whole nights in this house. You have given her the reputation of . . . a jezebel . . . a prostitute. . . .

  MARGARET: (Her voice rising to a scream.) James!

  SHAW: (Continuing steadily.) You have given her the reputation of a prostitute in her own town, you low bounder. You have extracted money from her. You have made her the tool of your greed for power and position and for that social standing—for that social position—which always seems so attractive to a low country public-house keeper. You have made her the tool of your vulgar and nauseating bid to become an Irish M.P.

  KELLY: (Very quietly, and turning away from SHAW.) I ask God to give me the grace to control my temper.

  MARGARET: (Rising up angrily and confronting her brother.) James, you ought to be thoroughly ashamed of yourself. How dare you talk about me like that? How dare you say I am an evil woman!

  SHAW: I said that this rotter has given you that name in this town.

  KELLY: (Exploding.) How dare you! How dare you!

  MARGARET: And what do you mean by walking into this room and making wild and base attacks on Mr. Kelly, a gentleman you never saw before in your life? Who told you those lies?

  KELLY: What poisonous tongue or pen has been sowing discord and slander and calumny?

  SHAW: Have you spent nights in this house up to five and six in the morning? Have you received large sums of money from my sister? Did you cash a cheque of hers for forty pounds last Thursday to pay a printing bill?

  TOWN CLERK: Mrs. Crockett is de Treasurer of de Election Committee. We put de election funds into de bank and den de Treasurer writes de cheques.

  SHAW: Who the devil are you?

  TOWN CLERK: (Sweetly.) A mimber of the gineral public.

  MARGARET: (To SHAW.) You have disgraced me and yourself.

  SHAW: Now, old girl, you please keep out of this disgusting business. I am here because it is my duty to be here. I am your brother and I am the head of the family——

  MARGARET: You have never since I was born—since I was born—done anything but meddle with me—and tell tales on me—and interfere with me. (Her voice rises hysterically.) You tried your best to have my own money bottled up with trustees, you tried——

  SHAW: Now, for heaven’s sake don’t make a scene. (The door bell rings.)

  KELLY: (Going over to console her.) Now, now, Margaret. Leave this to me. Everything will be all right. (Leads her to armchair at fire.)

  SHAW: You get away from that lady! Do you hear me, you cad!

  (HANNAH enters, stands flabbergasted for a moment, says ‘Glory be to God!’and exits right to answer door.)

  KELLY: (Fiercely.) I’ll take no orders from you, you wretched English bully, you impudent pup.

  TOWN CLERK: (To SHAW.) Now, Mr. Shaw, as a bystander, I can tell you that you’re making a holy show and a terrible exhibition of yourself.

  SHAW: Who the devil are you?

  TOWN CLERK: A member of de general public.

  (Voices are heard outside. HANNAH enters looking flustered and followed by CULLEN, KILSHAUGHRAUN and REILLY. KILSHAUGHRAUN with a thick ‘Bail o Dhia annso isteach!’ crosses the stage to an armchair left, throws himself heavily into it, crosses his legs comfortably, grins with good-humour on the stormy scene, and sets about filling his pipe. CULLEN stops in surprise near the door. REILLY, who knows something and does not feel very safe, retreats to the background near the TOWN CLERK and endeavours to be as unobtrusive as poss
ible. HANNAH crosses the stage as if to go off left, but in fact stands near the door listening. There is a few seconds’ silence broken only by the sobbing of MARGARET. SHAW is surveying the newcomers with distaste.)

  CULLEN: What’s the matter? What’s up?

  KELLY: You may well ask. You may well ask what’s the matter.

  SHAW: (To CULLEN.) Who are you?

  TOWN CLERK: (Sweetly.) He’s a mimber of the gineral public.

  SHAW: This place is like a railway station. Margaret, what is the meaning of this? Have you no sense of shame?

  KELLY: Shut up, you bosthoon!

  MARGARET: (Hysterically.) How dare you speak to me like that! (She struggles to her feet and faces SHAW.) How dare you tell me what to do in my own house, and who to ask into it!

  KELLY: Hear, hear.

  SHAW: Don’t be so damned theatrical, Margaret.

  MARGARET: But I know who to have in this house and who not to have. I know who to order out! Get out—you! Yes, you! You! Do you hear me? (Her voice rises to a scream.) Get out! Get out! (She breaks down and rushes over to HANNAH.) O, Hannah!

  (Pause. HANNAH takes her and leads her out left. There is a long awkward pause.)

  CULLEN: What in the name of God is going on here?

  TOWN CLERK: We’ve all met with misfortune. A fair man has come to us from across the sea. With very bad news.

  KELLY: This whippersnapper, believe it or not, is a brother of Margaret’s.

  SHAW: I haven’t finished with you yet, Kelly. Impertinent language won’t help you.

  KELLY: And I haven’t finished with you. Indeed I haven’t started yet. You will not be the first pup in this town that I put in his box.

  SHAW: (Looking at KILSHAUGHRAUN, who is puffing contentedly in the armchair.) I happen to be a brother of the lady who owns this house—

  KELLY: And who ordered you to clear out of it a moment ago.

  SHAW: I happen to be a brother of the householder. My name is Shaw. May I ask who you are?

  SHAWN: (Smiling genially.) Me, avic? (He rises.) Ah, isn’t it a terrible thing to hear anybody in Ireland asking who Shawn Kilshaughraun is? Mr. Shaw. (He takes SHAW by the hand, catching the arm by the elbow at the same time with his other hand.) Mr. Shaw, you are shaking hands with Shawn Kilshaughraun, an humble . . . hard-working . . . good-hearted . . . mimber of the historic Irish nation.