ACT II

The next day: The scene is as in previous Act. It is now in the forenoon. Maire Hourican is seated at the fire in a listless attitude. Anne is busy at the dresser. Maire rises.

MAIRE We shouldn't have stayed at Moynihan's so late.

ANNE Indeed it would have been better to go home, but I was sure that Brian MacConnell would come in.

MAIRE Well, it was his own loss if he didn't come. Maybe there was one there that I liked better.

ANNE You couldn't have liked Connor Gilpatrick better than Brian MacConnell.

MAIRE Connor's the best-looking boy in the country. Was it noticed that we were together often?

ANNE (significantly) Peggy Carroll noticed it.

MAIRE Well, the boy was glad to talk to me. Connor's a good dancer, and he has fine talk besides. If Brian MacConnell had come to the door, I wouldn't have turned my head towards him.

ANNE Sure, you wouldn't compare a young boy like Connor Gilpatrick with Brian MacConnell?

MAIRE I wouldn't have turned my head towards Brian. O! never expect kindness from men. Why did you let me stay on? I'm afraid to look at myself in the glass to-day. (She goes over to the mirror) You were hard on me, Anne, yesterday.

ANNE I didn't like the way you talked to father.

MAIRE I think I'm getting different to what I used to be. Well, I've reason to be sorry for what I did yesterday. (She is at window) Was Peggy Carroll vexed at the way I went on?

ANNE She never took her eyes off the pair of you. You know she's very fond of Connor.

MAIRE Anne, never remind me of my foolishness, I'm heartsick of myself to-day.

ANNE I'll comb out your hair for you, and you'll look well enough.

MAIRE Then you're expecting Brian MacConnell?

ANNE It's likely he'll come in to see if there's anything to be done.

MAIRE I suppose he'll come in. Gracious, how did father get out? He's coming up the path.

ANNE (coming to Maire) Father's not up, surely? Maire, be easy with Brian MacConnell when he comes in.

MAIRE Father's coming up the path. Anne!

ANNE What is it, Maire?

MAIRE Father wasn't in at all, last night.

ANNE Then he went to Flynn's, after all.

MAIRE Ay, he went to Flynn's.

She goes to Anne.

ANNE O Maire, what will become of us all?

MAIRE I don't know.

Maire goes to the settle, and sits down.

ANNE What will we do with him at all?

Conn Hourican comes in.

CONN God save you! (He looks around) Well, I came back to ye.

ANNE You did, God help us! And we depending on you. It's the bad way you always treated us.

CONN Did you hear what happened to me, before you attack me?

ANNE What happened to you? What always happens to you?

CONN I wonder that a man comes in at all! The complaints against him are like the Queen's Speech, prepared beforehand.

ANNE Ever since I can remember, you treated us like that. Bringing us into drinking-places and we little. It's well we got to know anything, or got into the way of being mannerly at all.

CONN You know too much. I always said that. Is James Moynihan coming here to-day?

ANNE No, he isn't coming here to-day.

CONN Well, we can do without him. There's something to be done to-day. I said I'd do the bit of mowing, and I was thinking of that all along. (He looks at Maire) Did you hear what happened to me, Maire?

MAIRE It's no matter at all.

CONN I went over to Flynn's, I may tell you.

ANNE In troth we might have known that.

CONN But did you hear what happened to me?

ANNE How could we hear? It was Maire went to the door, and there you were coming up the path; and we thinking you were in bed, resting yourself.

CONN I went over to Flynn's, but I had good reason for going there. (He puts the fiddle down on the table) Didn't you hear there were Sligomen in the town, Maire? Well, one of them was in the way of rewarding the prizes. I told you about the Feis; well, it's no matter now, I'll say no more about that. At all events the man I mentioned wanted to know what music was in the country, so he sent a message to myself.

ANNE (as satirical as she can be) That was kind of him.

CONN It was. I could do no less than go. I'll rest myself now, and then get ready for the mowing. (He goes to the room door; he turns again and watches Maire) Maire, I'm sorry you weren't on the spot. You might have advised me. I couldn't think of where you went or I'd have followed you. I had to make haste.

MAIRE It's no matter at all now.

CONN I'll stretch myself on the bed before I begin work. Anne, did you say you were leaving something in the room for me?

ANNE I suppose I'll have to leave the tea in the room for you.

She gets the tea ready. Maire remains motionless.

CONN Well, I have the pattern of daughters, anyway. I wouldn't give this house for the praise of Ireland, no, not if they carried me on their backs. (Anne takes the tea up to the room) It's a pity you weren't there, Maire, though of course I wouldn't bring you into such a place. But they were decent fellows, decent, warm-hearted fellows. If you were to see their faces when I played An Chaitin Donn. I'll warrant they'll be whistling it, though they never heard the tune before. And the manners they have! I offered the fiddle to one of them. "No," says he, "not a string will I touch while the master of us is here." That's something like the spirit. (Maire has turned to him and is attentive) But there, I won't fill myself up with false music telling you about it all.

He turns to the room.

MAIRE Bring up your fiddle.

CONN (taking fiddle and going towards room again) It will be as good as sound sleeping for me. I'll never forget it. Flynn will never forget it. It will be the making of Flynn.

Maire rises.

MAIRE You've only your fiddle; we shouldn't forget that.

Conn goes up to the room. Maire turns to the fire. Anne comes down.

ANNE O Maire, what will become of us at all?

MAIRE He is very pleased with himself. He has only his fiddle, we shouldn't forget that.

ANNE It will be a long time till he does the like again.

MAIRE It will be a long time, I suppose. Both of us might be in a different house and have different cares.

ANNE That would be terrible. I'll never leave him, Maire. MAIRE You can't say the like now.

ANNE Why?

MAIRE How could you take such things upon you and life stretching out before you? You're not young enough, Anne. Besides, it's not what we say; it's what we feel. No, it's not what we feel either; it's what grows up in us.

ANNE He might never do the like again.

MAIRE Many's the time mother said that, and she and me lying together.

ANNE Will we ever get out of it, Maire?

James enters.

MAIRE You have only a while to stay with us.

ANNE O James, what will your father say if he hears of you giving us another day?

JAMES My father took a stick in his hand this morning, and went off with himself.

MAIRE You're welcome, James. It was a pleasant time we had in your house last evening.

JAMES I hope you liked the company, Maire. I'm afraid there was very little to be called refined or scholarly, and the conversation at times was homely enough. But we did our best, and we were proud to see you.

MAIRE Sit down, James.

James sits on chair, near table. Maire is seated at fire, left of James. Anne leans against table, right of him.

JAMES Your father is outside, maybe?

MAIRE No. He's above in the room.

JAMES Yes. Practising, I suppose. Them that have the gift have to mind the gift. In this country there isn't much thought for poetry, or music, or scholarship. Still, a few of us know that a while must be spared from the world if we are to lay up riches in the mind.

ANNE I hope there's nothing wrong at home?

JAMES (turning to Anne) To tell you the truth, Anne, and to keep nothing back, there is.

MAIRE And what is it, James?

JAMES (turning to Maire) Anne was talking to my father last night.

ANNE Indeed I was, and I thought him very friendly to me.

JAMES Ay, he liked you well enough, I can tell you that, Anne. This morning when he took a stick in his hand, I knew he was making ready for a journey, for the horse is laid up. "Walk down a bit with me," said he, "and we'll go over a few things that are in my mind." Well, I walked down with him, and indeed we had a serious conversation.

ANNE Well?

JAMES "Anne Hourican is too young," said my father; "she's a nice girl, and a good girl, but she's too young."

MAIRE Sure in a while Anne will be twenty.

JAMES (turning to Maire) Ten years from this father would still think Anne too young. And late marriages, as everybody knows, is the real weakness of the country.

ANNE I thought your father liked me.

JAMES He likes you well enough, but, as he says, "what would she be doing here and your sisters years older than herself?" There's truth in that, mind you. I always give in to the truth.

MAIRE James?

JAMES (turning to Maire) Well, Maire?

MAIRE Is Anne a girl to be waiting twenty years for a man, like Sally Cassidy?

JAMES God forbid, Maire Hourican, that I'd ask your sister to wait that length. MAIRE She hasn't got a fortune. We were brought up different to farmers, and maybe we never gave thought to the like.

JAMES She has what's better than a fortune.

MAIRE Why aren't your sisters married off?

JAMES Big fortunes are expected with them.

MAIRE And they look to your wife to bring a big fortune into the house?

JAMES Ay, they do that.

MAIRE You, James, ought to have some control in the house. You're the only son. Your father is well off. Get him to fortune off your sisters, and then bring Anne to the house.

JAMES But how could I get father to fortune off the girls?

MAIRE How? By wakening up. You have the right. When we have the right, we ought to be able to do anything we like with the people around us.

JAMES I give in to the truth of that, Maire.

MAIRE What will come of you giving in to the truth of it? But sure you ought to remember, Anne.

ANNE (taking James's hand) James has the good way with people.

MAIRE Well, I suppose it will come out right for you in the end. You are both very deserving. (She rises) But some time or another we have to take things into our own hands.

JAMES Indeed that's true, Maire.

Maire goes to back.

ANNE (holding James's hand) Did you make any more songs, James?

JAMES I have a song in my head since last night.

ANNE The one in the paper is lovely. I know it by heart.

JAMES The next I make will be ten times better.

Conn Hourican comes down.

CONN I heard your voice, James, and I thought I'd come down. It's very good of you to come here again. I'll be out with you to-day.

JAMES It'll be a good day from this on. Were you practising above, Mister Hourican?

CONN Well, no, James, I wasn't practising. I was at a big gathering last night, and my hands are unstrung like. We'll talk for a while, and then I'll go out with you.

ANNE (taking James's arm) Come out with me for a minute, James.

JAMES (going off) I'll see you again, Mister Hourican.

James and Anne go out,

CONN Well, God help us. (He turns to go back to the room. Maire comes down from back) Are you going out, Maire?

MAIRE No, I'm staying here.

CONN (aggrieved) Do you mind them two, how they went out together. I think I'll go out and see what's to be done about the place.

Conn goes towards the entrance. Maire goes towards the fire.

CONN (pausing at door) I broke my word to you, Maire.

MAIRE I don't know what to say to you now.

CONN It was the music and the strange faces that drew me.

MAIRE I know that now.

CONN It will be a long time till I break my word to you again.

MAIRE I'll never ask for your word again.

CONN (warmly) I can tell you this, Maire. There's many's the place in Ireland where Conn Hourican's word would be respected.

MAIRE I'll never ask for your word again. You have only your fiddle, and you must go among people that will praise you. When I heard you talking of your listeners, I knew that. I was frightened before that. When I saw you coming, I went and sat there, and I thought the walls of the house were crowding in on me.

CONN You were partly to blame, Maire. You left me there very lonesome.

MAIRE I was to blame, I suppose. I should have treated you differently. Well, I know you better now. Let you sit down and we'll talk together. (Conn sits on chair to right of table) What's to become of myself I don't know. Anne and James Moynihan will marry, I hope. Neither of us have fortunes, and for that reason our house should be well spoken of.

CONN Sure I know that. I wouldn't bring the shadow of a disgrace near ye.

MAIRE If the father isn't well spoken of, how could the house be well spoken of? They're big drinkers that go to Flynn's, and it's easy for the fiddler to get into the way of drinking.

CONN I won't go to Flynn's when you put it that way.

MAIRE I'll ask for no word. I'll let you know the real way of the house, and then trust you.

CONN You're a good girl, Maire. I should have been said by you.

MAIRE From this out there will be dances at the schoolhouse and the like of that. You could be playing at them. CONN None of the oul' people go to the like, and the young don't understand me nor my ways. God knows will I ever play again. That thought is often with me of late, and it makes me very lonesome.

MAIRE That's foolishness.

CONN I was very lonesome when you left me. You don't know how I was tempted, Maire. There was Brian MacConnell putting on his coat to go to Flynn's, and talking of the Sligomen.

MAIRE (startled) And was it to Flynn's that Brian MacConnell went?

CONN It was Brian that brought me to Flynn's.

MAIRE Was it Brian MacConnell that brought you to Flynn's?

CONN It was.

MAIRE (passionately) You must never go to Flynn's.

CONN I'm ashamed of myself. Didn't I say that, Maire?

MAIRE (with hardness) You must never go again.

CONN And is a man to have no life to himself?

MAIRE That's talk just. It's time you thought of your own place and your own children. It's time you gave up caring for the praise of foolish people,

CONN Foolish people, did you say?

MAIRE Ay, foolish people. You had all your life to yourself, and you went here and there, straying from place to place, and caring only for the praise of foolish people.

CONN God help you, if that's your way of thinking! Sure the world knows that a man is born with the gift, and isn't the gift then the sign of the grace of God? Foolish people, indeed! Them that know the gift have some of the grace of God, no matter how poor they may be.

MAIRE You're always thinking of them. You never think of your own. Many's the time your own cried tears over your playing.

CONN (passionately, starting up) I'll go out of the house.

MAIRE Let you stay here.

CONN (going towards entrance) I'll go out of the house, I tell you.

MAIRE No.

Conn goes over to the fire.

CONN God help me that ever came into this country at all. (He sits down on the armchair, his hands resting on his stick) I had friends once, and was well thought of; I can tell you that, my daughter. MAIRE I know that. CONN Well, you can have your own way with me now.

MAIRE Why can't you stay here? There's lots to be done here. Our fields are a laughing-stock to the neighbours, they're that poor and wasted. Let us put all our minds into working, and have a good place of our own.

CONN Ay, and the grabbers and informers of this place would think well of you then.

MAIRE Who do you call grabbers and informers?

CONN The people of this place. The people you want to shine before.

MAIRE I don't want to shine before the people.

CONN I'm not saying against you, Maire.

MAIRE You're wrong in thinking I want to shine at all.

CONN Sure you go to every dance and ceilidh; and to every house where you can show off your face, and dancing, and conversation.

MAIRE Do I? Maybe I do. Every girl does the like.

CONN I'm not saying against it.

Pause.

MAIRE You think I'm like yourself, wanting the praise of the people.

CONN And what's the harm if you do?

MAIRE No harm at all. But I don't go to houses to show myself off.

CONN Troth and you do, Maire.

He rises and goes towards the entrance, and remains looking out.

MAIRE I won't believe it.

She goes to the settle. Anne comes in. Anne goes to the glass to fix her hair.

CONN Had you a good night at Moynihan's, Anne?

ANNE A sort of a good night.

CONN I was going to tell you about a man I met last night. He had a song about your grandmother.

ANNE Was grandmother a great beauty, father?

CONN Honor Gilroy had good looks, and indeed she made the most of them.

MAIRE It's likely there was some to tell her that she was showing off.

CONN No one was to her liking unless they praised her.

ANNE Ah well, a fiddler ought to forgive that to a woman. MAIRE Fiddlers and women are all alike, but don't say that to him.

Anne goes to Maire and sits beside her.

CONN (speaking to both) Well, Honor Gilroy wasn't the worst, maybe.

MAIRE And fiddlers and women oughtn't be hard on each other.

CONN Do you say that, Maire?

MAIRE (rising and going to him) I say it, father.

CONN God forgive me if I vexed you, Maire.

ANNE It's clearing up now, father, and you ought to go out to James. (Conn turns to the door. He remains in the doorway. Anne rises and goes to Maire) What did you say to him?

MAIRE (looking at Conn) He doesn't feel it at all. Father will always be the fiddler, no matter what we say.

ANNE Maire. Come and talk to me. (They sit at fire) I was talking to James. He'll never be happy until we're under the one roof.

Maire clasps Anne's hands passionately.

MAIRE (with cry) Anne, daughter, I'll be very lonesome for you.

ANNE But sure I won't be far off, Maire.

MAIRE Ay, but it's terrible to face things alone.

James has come to the door. Conn and James have been talking. They turn in.

CONN But I'll be glad enough to have the scythe in my hands after it all, James.

JAMES Anne was telling me how you took the victory from Connaught.

CONN Still I'm sorry for him! That poor Heffernan! He'll never hold up his head again.

JAMES Sure I'd have it in a ballad that would be sung in his own town. It would be well worth putting into a ballad.

CONN Well indeed, it would make a right good ballad, James.

JAMES I'd like to make a ballad about it, that would be sung all over Connaught.

CONN And why wouldn't you do it, James Moynihan? Sure it would be the making of you. It would be sung all over Ireland, and your name to it. Do you hear that, Maire? Do you hear that, Anne?

JAMES I'm saying that I'd like to do a ballad about your father's victory.

CONN Maybe you could have it this night week, James? ANNE Will it be a poem or a ballad, James?

Anne goes to him.

CONN If you had it this night week, we could bring the boys to the place. What do you say to that, Maire? We'll bring the boys here this night week to hear James Moynihan's ballad.

MAIRE I was thinking of the Feis at Ardagh.

CONN The Feis at Ardagh?

MAIRE Maybe you'll be going to it this night week.

CONN Sure you're not joking with me, Maire?

MAIRE No.

She rises.

CONN God forgive me, Maire, if I vexed you.

Maire goes up to Conn's room.

CONN Anne, jewel, had Maire anything to say about Ardagh?

ANNE We weren't talking about that at all.

JAMES Play me a rouse on the fiddle and maybe the ballad will come into my head.

Maire comes down, a fiddle in her hands.

MAIRE Here's the fiddle that was your favourite, the Granard fiddle.

CONN And this is the fiddle I'll bring with me to Ardagh.

ANNE And is he going to Ardagh?

JAMES And what about the ballad, Mister Hourican?

CONN I leave it all to Maire now. How well she bethought of the Granard fiddle.

MAIRE Father, we were always together.

She hands him the fiddle. Conn, Maire, James, Anne, are at table.

CURTAIN