Chapter VIII (1)

The two great energies of the world that in Shakespeare’s day penetrated each other have fallen apart as speech and music fell apart at the Renaissance, and that has brought each to greater freedom, and we have to prepare a stage for the whole wealth of modern lyricism, for an art that is close to pure music, for those energies that would free the arts from imitation, that would ally acting to decoration and to the dance. We are not yet conscious, for as yet we have no philosophy while the opposite energy is conscious. All visible history, the discoveries of science, the discussions of politics, are with it; but as I read the world, the sudden changes, or rather the sudden revelation of future changes, are not from visible history but from its anti-self. Blake says somewhere in a Prophetic Book that things must complete themselves before they pass away, and every new logical development of the objective energy intensifies in an exact correspondence a counter energy, or rather adds to an always deepening unanalysable longing. That counter longing, having no visible past, can only become a conscious energy suddenly, in those moments of revelation which are as a flash of lightning. Are we approaching a supreme moment of self-consciousness, the two halves of the soul separate and face to face? A certain friend of mine has written upon this subject a couple of intricate poems called ‘The Faces of the Moon’ and ‘The Double Vision’ respectively, which are my continual study, and I must refer the reader to these poems for the necessary mathematical calculations. Were it not for that other gyre turning inward in exact measure with the outward whirl of its fellow, we would fall in a generation or so under some tyranny that would cease at last to be a tyranny, so perfect our acquiescence.

Constrained, arraigned, baffled, bent and unbent
By these wire-jointed jaws and limbs of wood,
Themselves obedient,
Knowing not evil and good;

Obedient to some hidden magical breath.
They do not even feel, so abstract are they,
So dead beyond our death,
Triumph that we obey.

W. B. YEATS.

-----

Footnote 15:

I took the title from a book by Romain Rolland on some French
theatrical experiments. ‘A People’s Theatre’ is not quite the same
thing as ‘A Popular Theatre.’ The essay was published in _The Irish
Statesman_ in the autumn of 1919.--W. B. Y., 1923.

Footnote 16:

I have read somewhere statistics that showed how popular education has
coincided with the lessening of Shakespeare’s audience. In every chief
town before it began Shakespeare was constantly played.

Footnote 17:

I live in Dublin now, and indolence and hatred of travel will probably
compel me to make my experiment there after all.--W. B. Y., 1923.

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THE COUNTESS CATHLEEN

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‘The sorrowful are dumb for thee’

_Lament of Morion Shehone_
_for Miss Mary Bourke._

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TO

MAUD GONNE

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_PERSONS IN THE PLAY_

SHEMUS RUA, _a Peasant_.
MARY, _his Wife_.
TEIG, _his Son_.
ALEEL, _a Poet_.
THE COUNTESS CATHLEEN.
OONA, _her Foster Mother_.
Two Demons disguised as Merchants.
Peasants, Servants, Angelical Beings.

_The Scene is laid in Ireland and in old times._

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SCENE I

SCENE.--_A room with lighted fire, and a door into the open air,
through which one sees, perhaps, the trees of a wood, and these trees
should be painted in flat colour upon a gold or diapered sky. The
walls are of one colour. The scene should have the effect of missal
painting._ MARY, _a woman of forty years or so, is grinding a quern_.

MARY. What can have made the grey hen flutter so?

[TEIG, _a boy of fourteen, is coming in with turf, which he lays
beside the hearth_.

TEIG. They say that now the land is famine struck
The graves are walking.

MARY. There is something that the hen hears.

TEIG. And that is not the worst; at Tubber-vanach A woman met a man with ears spread out, And they moved up and down like a bat’s wing.

MARY. What can have kept your father all this while?

TEIG. Two nights ago, at Carrick-orus churchyard, A herdsman met a man who had no mouth, Nor eyes, nor ears! his face a wall of flesh: He saw him plainly by the light of the moon.

MARY. Look out, and tell me if your father’s coming.

[TEIG _goes to door._

TEIG. Mother!

MARY. What is it?

TEIG. In the bush beyond, There are two birds--if you can call them birds-- I could not see them rightly for the leaves. But they’ve the shape and colour of horned owls And I’m half certain they’ve a human face.

MARY. Mother of God, defend us!

TEIG. They’re looking at me. What is the good of praying? father says. God and the Mother of God have dropped asleep. What do they care, he says, though the whole land Squeal like a rabbit under a weasel’s tooth?

MARY. You’ll bring misfortune with your blasphemies Upon your father, or yourself, or me. Would God that he were home--ah, there he is.

[SHEMUS _comes in_.

What was it kept you in the wood? You know I cannot get all sorts of accidents Out of my mind till you are home again.

SHEMUS. I’m in no mood to listen to your clatter. Although I tramped the woods for half a day, I’ve taken nothing, for the very rats, Badgers, and hedgehogs seem to have died of drought, And there was scarce a wind in the parched leaves.

TEIG. Then you have brought no dinner.

SHEMUS. After that I sat among the beggars at the cross-roads, And held a hollow hand among the others.

MARY. What, did you beg?

SHEMUS. I had no chance to beg, For when the beggars saw me they cried out They would not have another share their alms, And hunted me away with sticks and stones.

TEIG. You said that you would bring us food or money.

SHEMUS. What’s in the house?

TEIG. A bit of mouldy bread.

MARY. There’s flour enough to make another loaf.

TEIG. And when that’s gone?

MARY. There is the hen in the coop.

SHEMUS. My curse upon the beggars, my curse upon them!

TEIG. And the last penny gone.

SHEMUS. When the hen’s gone, What can we do but live on sorrel and dock, And dandelion, till our mouths are green?

MARY. God, that to this hour has found bit and sup,
Will cater for us still.

SHEMUS. His kitchen’s bare. There were five doors that I looked through this day And saw the dead and not a soul to wake them.

MARY. Maybe He’d have us die because He knows, When the ear is stopped and when the eye is stopped, That every wicked sight is hid from the eye, And all fool talk from the ear.

SHEMUS. Who’s passing there?
And mocking us with music?

[_A stringed instrument without._

TEIG. A young man plays it,
There’s an old woman and a lady with him.

SHEMUS. What is the trouble of the poor to her? Nothing at all or a harsh radishy sauce For the day’s meat.

MARY. God’s pity on the rich. Had we been through as many doors, and seen The dishes standing on the polished wood In the wax candle light, we’d be as hard, And there’s the needle’s eye at the end of all.

SHEMUS. My curse upon the rich.

TEIG. They’re coming here.

SHEMUS. Then down upon that stool, down quick, I say, And call up a whey face and a whining voice, And let your head be bowed upon your knees.

MARY. Had I but time to put the place to rights.

CATHLEEN, OONA, _and_ ALEEL _enter_.

CATHLEEN. God save all here. There is a certain house, An old grey castle with a kitchen garden, A cider orchard and a plot for flowers, Somewhere among these woods.

MARY. We know it, lady. A place that’s set among impassable walls As though world’s trouble could not find it out.

CATHLEEN. It may be that we are that trouble, for we-- Although we’ve wandered in the wood this hour-- Have lost it too, yet I should know my way, For I lived all my childhood in that house.

MARY. Then you are Countess Cathleen?

CATHLEEN. And this woman, Oona, my nurse, should have remembered it, For we were happy for a long time there.

OONA. The paths are overgrown with thickets now,
Or else some change has come upon my sight.

CATHLEEN. And this young man, that should have known the woods-- Because we met him on their border but now, Wandering and singing like a wave of the sea-- Is so wrapped up in dreams of terrors to come That he can give no help.

MARY. You have still some way, But I can put you on the trodden path Your servants take when they are marketing. But first sit down and rest yourself awhile, For my old fathers served your fathers, lady, Longer than books can tell--and it were strange If you and yours should not be welcome here.

CATHLEEN. And it were stranger still were I ungrateful For such kind welcome--but I must be gone, For the night’s gathering in.

SHEMUS. It is a long while
Since I’ve set eyes on bread or on what buys it.

CATHLEEN. So you are starving even in this wood, Where I had thought I would find nothing changed. But that’s a dream, for the old worm o’ the world Can eat its way into what place it pleases.

[_She gives money._

TEIG. Beautiful lady, give me something too; I fell but now, being weak with hunger and thirst, And lay upon the threshold like a log.

CATHLEEN. I gave for all and that was all I had. Look, my purse is empty. I have passed By starving men and women all this day, And they have had the rest; but take the purse, The silver clasps on’t may be worth a trifle. And if you’ll come to-morrow to my house You shall have twice the sum.

[ALEEL _begins to play_.

SHEMUS [_muttering_]. What, music, music!

CATHLEEN. Ah, do not blame the finger on the string; The doctors bid me fly the unlucky times And find distraction for my thoughts, or else Pine to my grave.

SHEMUS. I have said nothing, lady.
Why should the like of us complain?

OONA. Have done. Sorrows that she’s but read of in a book Weigh on her mind as if they had been her own.

[OONA, MARY, _and_ CATHLEEN _go out_. ALEEL _looks defiantly at_
SHEMUS.

ALEEL [_singing_]. Were I but crazy for love’s sake I know who’d measure out his length, I know the heads that I should break, For crazy men have double strength. There! all’s out now to leave or take, And who mocks music mocks at love; And when I’m crazy for love’s sake I’ll not go far to choose.

[_Snapping his fingers in_ SHEMUS’ _face_.]

Enough!
I know the heads that I should break.

[_He takes a step towards the door and then turns again._

Shut to the door before the night has fallen, For who can say what walks, or in what shape. Some devilish creature flies in the air; but now Two grey-horned owls hooted above our heads.

[_He goes out, his singing dies away._ MARY _comes in_. SHEMUS
_has been counting the money_.

SHEMUS. So that fool’s gone.

TEIG. He’s seen the horned owls too. There’s no good luck in owls, but it may be That the ill luck’s to fall upon his head.

MARY. You never thanked her ladyship.

SHEMUS. Thank her,
For seven halfpence and a silver bit?

TEIG. But for this empty purse?

SHEMUS. What’s that for thanks, Or what’s the double of it that she promised? With bread and flesh and every sort of food Up to a price no man has heard the like of And rising every day.

MARY. We have all she had;
She emptied out the purse before our eyes.

SHEMUS [_to_ MARY, _who has gone to close the door_]. Leave that
door open.

MARY. When those that have read books, And seen the seven wonders of the world, Fear what’s above or what’s below the ground, It’s time that poverty should bolt the door.

SHEMUS. I’ll have no bolts, for there is not a thing That walks above the ground or under it I had not rather welcome to this house Than any more of mankind, rich or poor.

TEIG. So that they brought us money.

SHEMUS. I heard say There’s something that appears like a white bird, A pigeon or a seagull or the like, But if you hit it with a stone or a stick It clangs as though it had been made of brass, And that if you dig down where it was scratching You’ll find a crock of gold.

TEIG. But dream of gold
For three nights running, and there’s always gold.

SHEMUS. You might be starved before you’ve dug it out.

TEIG. But maybe if you called, something would come,
They have been seen of late.

MARY. Is it call devils?
Call devils from the wood, call them in here?

SHEMUS. So you’d stand up against me, and you’d say
Who or what I am to welcome here.

[_He hits her._

That is to show who’s master.

TEIG. Call them in.

MARY. God help us all!

SHEMUS. Pray, if you have a mind to. It’s little that the sleepy ears above Care for your words; but I’ll call what I please.

TEIG. There is many a one, they say, had money from them.

SHEMUS [_at door_]. Whatever you are that walk the woods at night, So be it that you have not shouldered up Out of a grave--for I’ll have nothing human-- And have free hands, a friendly trick of speech, I welcome you. Come, sit beside the fire. What matter if your head’s below your arms Or you’ve a horse’s tail to whip your flank, Feathers instead of hair, that’s all but nothing, Come, share what bread and meat is in the house, And stretch your heels and warm them in the ashes. And after that, let’s share and share alike And curse all men and women. Come in, come in. What, is there no one there? [_Turning from door._] And yet they say They are as common as the grass, and ride Even upon the book in the priest’s hand.

[TEIG _lifts one arm slowly and points toward the door and begins
moving backward_. SHEMUS _turns, he also sees something and
begins moving backward_. MARY _does the same. A man dressed as
an Eastern merchant comes in carrying a small carpet. He
unrolls it and sits cross-legged at one end of it. Another man
dressed in the same way follows, and sits at the other end.
This is done slowly and deliberately. When they are seated they
take money out of embroidered purses at their girdles and begin
arranging it on the carpet._

TEIG. You speak to them.

SHEMUS. No, you.

TEIG. ’Twas you that called them.

SHEMUS [_coming nearer_]. I’d make so bold, if you would pardon it, To ask if there’s a thing you’d have of us. Although we are but poor people, if there is, Why, if there is----

FIRST MERCHANT. We’ve travelled a long road, For we are merchants that must tramp the world, And now we look for supper and a fire And a safe corner to count money in.

SHEMUS. I thought you were ... but that’s no matter now-- There had been words between my wife and me Because I said I would be master here, And ask in what I pleased or who I pleased And so ... but that is nothing to the point, Because it’s certain that you are but merchants.

FIRST MERCHANT. We travel for the Master of all merchants.

SHEMUS. Yet if you were that I had thought but now I’d welcome you no less. Be what you please And you’ll have supper at the market rate, That means that what was sold for but a penny Is now worth fifty.

FIRST MERCHANT [_arranging money_]. Our Master bids us pay So good a price, that all who deal with us Shall eat, drink, and be merry.

SHEMUS [_to_ MARY]. Bestir yourself, Go kill and draw the fowl, while Teig and I Lay out the plates and make a better fire.

MARY. I will not cook for you.

SHEMUS. Not cook! not cook! Do not be angry. She wants to pay me back Because I struck her in that argument. But she’ll get sense again. Since the dearth came We rattle one on another as though we were Knives thrown into a basket to be cleaned.

MARY. I will not cook for you, because I know In what unlucky shape you sat but now Outside this door.

TEIG. It’s this, your honours: Because of some wild words my father said She thinks you are not of those who cast a shadow.

SHEMUS. I said I’d make the devils of the wood Welcome, if they’d a mind to eat and drink; But it is certain that you are men like us.

FIRST MERCHANT. It’s strange that she should think we cast no shadow, For there is nothing on the ridge of the world That’s more substantial than the merchants are That buy and sell you.

MARY. If you are not demons, And seeing what great wealth is spread out there, Give food or money to the starving poor.

FIRST MERCHANT. If we knew how to find deserving poor
We’d do our share.

MARY. But seek them patiently.

FIRST MERCHANT. We know the evils of mere charity.

MARY. Those scruples may befit a common time. I had thought there was a pushing to and fro, At times like this, that overset the scale And trampled measure down.

FIRST MERCHANT. But if already
We’d thought of a more prudent way than that?

SECOND MERCHANT. If each one brings a bit of merchandise,
We’ll give him such a price he never dreamt of.

MARY. Where shall the starving come at merchandise?

FIRST MERCHANT. We will ask nothing but what all men have.

MARY. Their swine and cattle, fields and implements
Are sold and gone.

FIRST MERCHANT. They have not sold all yet. For there’s a vaporous thing--that may be nothing, But that’s the buyer’s risk--a second self, They call immortal for a story’s sake.

SHEMUS. They come to buy our souls?

TEIG. I’ll barter mine.
Why should we starve for what may be but nothing?

MARY. Teig and Shemus----

SHEMUS. What can be but nothing? What has God poured out of His bag but famine? Satan gives money.

TEIG. Yet no thunder stirs.

FIRST MERCHANT. There is a heap for each.

[SHEMUS _goes to take money_.

But no, not yet,
For there’s a work I have to set you to.

SHEMUS. So then you’re as deceitful as the rest, And all that talk of buying what’s but a vapour Is fancy bread. I might have known as much, Because that’s how the trick-o’-the-loop man talks.

FIRST MERCHANT. That’s for the work, each has its separate price;
But neither price is paid till the work’s done.

TEIG. The same for me.

MARY. Oh, God, why are you still?

FIRST MERCHANT. You’ve but to cry aloud at every cross-road, At every house door, that we buy men’s souls And give so good a price that all may live In mirth and comfort till the famine’s done, Because we are Christian men.

SHEMUS. Come, let’s away.

TEIG. I shall keep running till I’ve earned the price.

SECOND MERCHANT [_who has risen and gone towards fire_]. Stop; you must have proof behind the words. So here’s your entertainment on the road.

[_He throws a bag of money on the ground._

Live as you please; our Master’s generous.

[TEIG _and_ SHEMUS _have stopped_. TEIG _takes the money. They go
out._

MARY. Destroyers of souls, God will destroy you quickly. You shall at last dry like dry leaves and hang Nailed like dead vermin to the doors of God.

SECOND MERCHANT. Curse to your fill, for saints will have their
dreams.

FIRST MERCHANT. Though we’re but vermin that our Master sent To overrun the world, he at the end Shall pull apart the pale ribs of the moon And quench the stars in the ancestral night.

MARY. God is all powerful.

SECOND MERCHANT. Pray, you shall need Him. You shall eat dock and grass, and dandelion, Till that low threshold there becomes a wall, And when your hands can scarcely drag your body We shall be near you.

[MARY _faints_.

[_The_ FIRST MERCHANT _takes up the carpet, spreads it before the
fire and stands in front of it warming his hands_.

FIRST MERCHANT. Our faces go unscratched, Wring the neck o’ that fowl, scatter the flour And look if there is bread upon the shelves. We’ll turn the fowl upon the spit and roast it, And eat the supper we were bidden to, Now that the house is quiet, praise our Master, And stretch and warm our heels among the ashes.

END OF SCENE I

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SCENE II

FRONT SCENE.--_A wood with perhaps distant view of turreted house at
one side, but all in flat colour, without light and shade and against
a diapered or gold background._

COUNTESS CATHLEEN _comes in leaning upon_ ALEEL’S _arm_. OONA _follows
them_.

CATHLEEN [_stopping_]. Surely this leafy corner, where one smells
The wild bee’s honey, has a story too?

OONA. There is the house at last.

ALEEL. A man, they say, Loved Maeve the Queen of all the invisible host, And died of his love nine centuries ago. And now, when the moon’s riding at the full, She leaves her dancers lonely and lies there Upon that level place, and for three days Stretches and sighs and wets her long pale cheeks.

CATHLEEN. So she loves truly.

ALEEL. No, but wets her cheeks,
Lady, because she has forgot his name.

CATHLEEN. She’d sleep that trouble away--though it must be A heavy trouble to forget his name-- If she had better sense.

OONA. Your own house, lady.

ALEEL. She sleeps high up on wintry Knock-na-rea In an old cairn of stones; while her poor women Must lie and jog in the wave if they would sleep-- Being water born--yet if she cry their names They run up on the land and dance in the moon Till they are giddy and would love as men do, And be as patient and as pitiful. But there is nothing that will stop in their heads They’ve such poor memories, though they weep for it. Oh, yes, they weep; that’s when the moon is full.

CATHLEEN. Is it because they have short memories
They live so long?

ALEEL. What’s memory but the ash That chokes our fires that have begun to sink? And they’ve a dizzy, everlasting fire.

OONA. There is your own house, lady.

CATHLEEN. Why, that’s true,
And we’d have passed it without noticing.

ALEEL. A curse upon it for a meddlesome house! Had it but stayed away I would have known What Queen Maeve thinks on when the moon is pinched; And whether now--as in the old days--the dancers Set their brief love on men.

OONA. Rest on my arm.
These are no thoughts for any Christian ear.

ALEEL. I am younger, she would be too heavy for you.

[_He begins taking his lute out of the bag_; CATHLEEN, _who has
turned towards_ OONA, _turns back to him_.

This hollow box remembers every foot That danced upon the level grass of the world, And will tell secrets if I whisper to it.

[_Sings_]

Lift up the white knee;
Hear what they sing,
Those young dancers
That in a ring
Raved but now
Of the hearts that broke
Long, long ago
For their sake.

OONA. New friends are sweet.

ALEEL

‘But the dance changes,
Lift up the gown,
All that sorrow
Is trodden down.’

OONA. The empty rattle-pate! Lean on this arm, That I can tell you is a christened arm, And not like some, if we are to judge by speech. But as you please. It is time I was forgot. Maybe it is not on this arm you slumbered When you were as helpless as a worm.

ALEEL. Stay with me till we come to your own house.

CATHLEEN [_sitting down_]. When I am rested I will need no help.

ALEEL. I thought to have kept her from remembering The evil of the times for full ten minutes; But now when seven are out you come between.

OONA. Talk on; what does it matter what you say,
For you have not been christened?

ALEEL. Old woman, old woman, You robbed her of three minutes’ peace of mind, And though you live unto a hundred years, And wash the feet of beggars and give alms, And climb Croaghpatrick, you shall not be pardoned.

OONA. How does a man who never was baptized
Know what Heaven pardons?

ALEEL. You are a sinful woman.

OONA. I care no more than if a pig had grunted.

_Enter_ CATHLEEN’S _Steward_.

STEWARD. I am not to blame, for I had locked the gate, The forester’s to blame. The men climbed in At the east corner where the elm-tree is.

CATHLEEN. I do not understand you, who has climbed?

STEWARD. Then God be thanked, I am the first to tell you. I was afraid some other of the servants-- Though I’ve been on the watch--had been the first, And mixed up truth and lies, your ladyship.

CATHLEEN [_rising_]. Has some misfortune happened?

STEWARD. Yes, indeed. The forester that let the branches lie Against the wall’s to blame for everything, For that is how the rogues got into the garden.

CATHLEEN. I thought to have escaped misfortune here.
Has any one been killed?

STEWARD. Oh, no, not killed.
They have stolen half a cart-load of green cabbage.

CATHLEEN. But maybe they were starving.

STEWARD. That is certain.
To rob or starve, that was the choice they had.

CATHLEEN. A learned theologian has laid down That starving men may take what’s necessary, And yet be sinless.

OONA. Sinless and a thief!
There should be broken bottle on the wall.

CATHLEEN. And if it be a sin, while faith’s unbroken God cannot help but pardon. There is no soul But it’s unlike all others in the world, Nor one but lifts a strangeness to God’s love Till that’s grown infinite, and therefore none Whose loss were less than irremediable Although it were the wickedest in the world.

_Enter_ TEIG _and_ SHEMUS.

STEWARD. What are you running for? Pull off your cap,
Do you not see who’s there?

SHEMUS. I cannot wait. I am running to the world with the best news That has been brought it for a thousand years.

STEWARD. Then get your breath and speak.

SHEMUS. If you’d my news
You’d run as fast and be as out of breath.

TEIG. Such news, we shall be carried on men’s shoulders.

SHEMUS. There’s something every man has carried with him. And thought no more about than if it were A mouthful of the wind; and now it’s grown A marketable thing!

TEIG. And yet it seemed
As useless as the paring of one’s nails.

SHEMUS. What sets me laughing when I think of it, Is that a rogue who’s lain in lousy straw, If he but sell it, may set up his coach.

TEIG [_laughing_]. There are two gentlemen who buy men’s souls.

CATHLEEN. O God!

TEIG. And maybe there’s no soul at all.

STEWARD. They’re drunk or mad.

TEIG. Look at the price they give.

[_Showing money._

SHEMUS [_tossing up money_]. ‘Go cry it all about the world,’ they
said.
‘Money for souls, good money for a soul.’

CATHLEEN. Give twice and thrice and twenty times their money,
And get your souls again. I will pay all.

SHEMUS. Not we! not we! For souls--if there are souls-- But keep the flesh out of its merriment. I shall be drunk and merry.

TEIG. Come, let’s away.

[_He goes._

CATHLEEN. But there’s a world to come.

SHEMUS. And if there is, I’d rather trust myself into the hands That can pay money down than to the hands That have but shaken famine from the bag.

[_He goes out R._

[_Lilting_]

‘There’s money for a soul, sweet yellow money. There’s money for men’s souls, good money, money.’

CATHLEEN [to ALEEL]. Go call them here again, bring them by force,
Beseech them, bribe, do anything you like;

[ALEEL _goes._

And you too follow, add your prayers to his.

[OONA, _who has been praying, goes out_.

Steward, you know the secrets of my house. How much have I?

STEWARD. A hundred kegs of gold.

CATHLEEN. How much have I in castles?

STEWARD. As much more.

CATHLEEN. How much have I in pasture?

STEWARD. As much more.

CATHLEEN. How much have I in forests?

STEWARD. As much more.

CATHLEEN. Keeping this house alone, sell all I have. Go barter where you please, but come again With herds of cattle and with ships of meal.

STEWARD. God’s blessing light upon your ladyship.
You will have saved the land.

CATHLEEN. Make no delay.

[_He goes_ L.

ALEEL _and_ OONA _return_.

CATHLEEN. They have not come; speak quickly.

ALEEL. One drew his knife. And said that he would kill the man or woman That stopped his way; and when I would have stopped him He made this stroke at me; but it is nothing.

CATHLEEN. You shall be tended. From this day for ever
I’ll have no joy or sorrow of my own.

OONA. Their eyes shone like the eyes of birds of prey.

CATHLEEN. Come, follow me, for the earth burns my feet Till I have changed my house to such a refuge That the old and ailing, and all weak of heart, May escape from beak and claw; all, all, shall come Till the walls burst and the roof fall on us. From this day out I have nothing of my own.

[_She goes._

OONA [_taking_ ALEEL _by the arm and as she speaks bandaging his
wound_]. She has found something now to put her hand to,
And you and I are of no more account
Than flies upon a window-pane in the winter.

[_They go out._

END OF SCENE II

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SCENE III

SCENE.--_Hall in the house of_ COUNTESS CATHLEEN. _At the Left an
oratory with steps leading up to it. At the Right a tapestried wall,
more or less repeating the form of the oratory, and a great chair
with its back against the wall. In the Centre are two or more arches
through which one can see dimly the trees of the garden._ CATHLEEN
_is kneeling in front of the altar in the oratory; there is a hanging
lighted lamp over the altar_. ALEEL _enters_.

ALEEL. I have come to bid you leave this castle and fly
Out of these woods.

CATHLEEN. What evil is there here
That is not everywhere from this to the sea?

ALEEL. They who have sent me walk invisible.

CATHLEEN. So it is true what I have heard men say,
That you have seen and heard what others cannot.

ALEEL. I was asleep in my bed, and while I slept My dreams became a fire; and in the fire One walked and he had birds about his head.

CATHLEEN. I have heard that one of the old gods walked so.

ALEEL. It may be that he is angelical; And, lady, he bids me call you from these woods. And you must bring but your old foster-mother, And some few serving men, and live in the hills, Among the sounds of music and the light Of waters, till the evil days are done. For here some terrible death is waiting you, Some unimagined evil, some great darkness That fable has not dreamt of, nor sun nor moon Scattered.

CATHLEEN. No, not angelical.

ALEEL. This house You are to leave with some old trusty man, And bid him shelter all that starve or wander While there is food and house room.

CATHLEEN. He bids me go Where none of mortal creatures but the swan Dabbles, and there you would pluck the harp, when the trees Had made a heavy shadow about our door, And talk among the rustling of the reeds, When night hunted the foolish sun away With stillness and pale tapers. No--no--no! I cannot. Although I weep, I do not weep Because that life would be most happy and here I find no way, no end. Nor do I weep Because I had longed to look upon your face, But that a night of prayer has made me weary.

ALEEL [_prostrating himself before her_]. Let Him that made mankind, the angels and devils And dearth and plenty, mend what He has made, For when we labour in vain and eye still sees Heart breaks in vain.

CATHLEEN. How would that quiet end?

ALEEL. How but in healing?

CATHLEEN. You have seen my tears
And I can see your hand shake on the floor.

ALEEL [_faltering_]. I thought but of healing.
He was angelical.

CATHLEEN [_turning away from him_]. No, not angelical, but of the old gods, Who wander about the world to awaken the heart---- The passionate, proud heart--that all the angels, Leaving nine heavens empty, would rock to sleep.

[_She goes to chapel door_; ALEEL _holds his clasped hands
towards her for a moment hesitatingly, and then lets them fall
beside him_.

CATHLEEN. Do not hold out to me beseeching hands. This heart shall never waken on earth. I have sworn, By her whose heart the seven sorrows have pierced, To pray before this altar until my heart Has grown to Heaven like a tree, and there Rustled its leaves, till Heaven has saved my people.

ALEEL [_who has risen_]. When one so great has spoken of love to one So little as I, though to deny him love, What can he but hold out beseeching hands, Then let them fall beside him, knowing how greatly They have overdared?

[_He goes towards the door of the hall. The_ COUNTESS CATHLEEN
_takes a few steps towards him_.

CATHLEEN. If the old tales are true, Queens have wed shepherds and kings beggar-maids; God’s procreant waters flowing about your mind Have made you more than kings or queens; and not you But I am the empty pitcher.

ALEEL. Being silent,
I have said all, yet let me stay beside you.

CATHLEEN. No, no, not while my heart is shaken. No. But you shall hear wind cry and water cry, And curlew cry, and have the peace I longed for.

ALEEL. Give me your hand to kiss.

CATHLEEN. I kiss your forehead. And yet I send you from me. Do not speak; There have been women that bid men to rob Crowns from the Country-under-Wave or apples Upon a dragon-guarded hill, and all That they might sift men’s hearts and wills, And trembled as they bid it, as I tremble That lay a hard task on you, that you go, And silently, and do not turn your head; Good-bye; but do not turn your head and look; Above all else, I would not have you look.

[ALEEL _goes_.

I never spoke to him of his wounded hand, And now he is gone. [_She looks out._] I cannot see him, for all is dark outside. Would my imagination and my heart Were as little shaken as this holy flame!

[_She goes slowly into the chapel. The distant sound of an alarm
bell. The two_ MERCHANTS _enter hurriedly_.

SECOND MERCHANT. They are ringing the alarm, and in a moment
They’ll be upon us.

FIRST MERCHANT [_going to a door at the side_]. Here is the
Treasury,
You’d my commands to put them all to sleep.

SECOND MERCHANT. Some angel or else her prayers protected them.

[_Goes into the Treasury and returns with bags of treasure._
FIRST MERCHANT _has been listening at the oratory door_.

FIRST MERCHANT. She has fallen asleep.

[SECOND MERCHANT _goes out through one of the arches at the back
and stands listening. The bags are at his feet._

SECOND MERCHANT. We’ve all the treasure now,
So let’s away before they’ve tracked us out.

FIRST MERCHANT. I have a plan to win her.

SECOND MERCHANT. You have time enough If you would kill her and bear off her soul Before they are upon us with their prayers; They search the Western Tower.

FIRST MERCHANT. That may not be. We cannot face the heavenly host in arms. Her soul must come to us of its own will; But being of the ninth and mightiest Hell Where all are kings, I have a plan to win it. Lady, we’ve news that’s crying out for speech.

[CATHLEEN _wakes and comes to door of chapel_.

CATHLEEN. Who calls?

FIRST MERCHANT. Lady, we have brought news.

CATHLEEN. What are you?

FIRST MERCHANT. We are merchants, and we know the book of the world Because we have walked upon its leaves; and there Have read of late matters that much concern you; And noticing the castle door stand open, Came in to find an ear.

CATHLEEN. The door stands open, That no one who is famished or afraid, Despair of help or of a welcome with it. But you have news, you say.

FIRST MERCHANT. We saw a man, Heavy with sickness in the bog of Allen, Whom you had bid buy cattle. Near Fair Head We saw your grain ships lying all becalmed In the dark night; and not less still than they, Burned all their mirrored lanthorns in the sea.

CATHLEEN. Thanks be to God there’s money in the house That can buy grain from those who have stored it up To prosper on the hunger of the poor. But you’ve been far and know the signs of things, When will this famine end?

FIRST MERCHANT. Day copies day, And there’s no sign of change, nor can it change, With the wheat withered and the cattle dead.

CATHLEEN. And heard you of the demons who buy souls?

FIRST MERCHANT. There are some men who hold they have wolves’ heads, And say their limbs--dried by the infinite flame-- Have all the speed of storms; others, again, Say they are gross and little; while a few Will have it they seem much as mortals are, But tall and brown and travelled--like us, lady-- Yet all agree a power is in their looks That makes men bow, and flings a casting-net About their souls, and that all men would go And barter those poor vapours, were it not You bribe them with the safety of your gold.

CATHLEEN. Praise God that I am wealthy.
Why do they sell?

FIRST MERCHANT. As we came in at the great door we saw Your porter sleeping in his niche--a soul Too little to be worth a hundred pence, And yet they buy it for a hundred crowns. But for a soul like yours, I heard them say, They would give five hundred thousand crowns and more.

CATHLEEN. How can a heap of crowns pay for a soul?
Is the green grave so terrible a thing?

FIRST MERCHANT. Some sell because the money gleams, and some Because they are in terror of the grave, And some because their neighbours sold before, And some because there is a kind of joy In casting hope away, in losing joy, In ceasing all resistance, in at last Opening one’s arms to the eternal flames, In casting all sails out upon the wind; To this--full of the gaiety of the lost-- Would all folk hurry if your gold were gone.

CATHLEEN. There is a something, Merchant, in your voice That makes me fear. When you were telling how A man may lose his soul and lose his God Your eyes were lighted up, and when you told How my poor money serves the people, both-- Merchants, forgive me--seemed to smile.

FIRST MERCHANT. I laugh To think that all these people should be swung As on a lady’s shoe-string,--under them The glowing leagues of never-ending flame.

CATHLEEN. There is a something in you that I fear; A something not of us; were you not born In some most distant corner of the world?

[_The_ SECOND MERCHANT, _who has been listening at the door,
comes forward, and as he comes a sound of voices and feet is
heard_.

SECOND MERCHANT. Away now--they are in the passage--hurry, For they will know us, and freeze up our hearts With Ave Marys, and burn all our skin With holy water.

FIRST MERCHANT. Farewell; for we must ride Many a mile before the morning come; Our horses beat the ground impatiently.

[_They go out. A number of_ PEASANTS _enter by other door_.

FIRST PEASANT. Forgive us, lady, but we heard a noise.

SECOND PEASANT. We sat by the fireside telling vanities.

FIRST PEASANT. We heard a noise, but though we have searched the
house
We have found nobody.

CATHLEEN. You are too timid, For now you are safe from all the evil times, There is no evil that can find you here.

OONA [_entering hurriedly_]. Ochone! Ochone! The treasure room is
broken in.
The door stands open, and the gold is gone.

[PEASANTS _raise a lamentable cry_.

CATHLEEN. Be silent. [_The cry ceases._]
Have you seen nobody?

OONA. Ochone!
That my good mistress should lose all this money.

CATHLEEN. Let those among you--not too old to ride-- Get horses and search all the country round, I’ll give a farm to him who finds the thieves.

[_A man with keys at his girdle has come in while she speaks.
There is a general murmur of ‘The porter! the porter!’_

PORTER. Demons were here. I sat beside the door In my stone niche, and two owls passed me by, Whispering with human voices.

OLD PEASANT. God forsakes us.

CATHLEEN. Old man, old man, He never closed a door Unless one opened. I am desolate, Because of a strange thought that’s in my heart; But I have still my faith; therefore be silent; For surely He does not forsake the world, But stands before it modelling in the clay And moulding there His image. Age by age The clay wars with His fingers and pleads hard For its old, heavy, dull and shapeless ease; But sometimes--though His hand is on it still-- It moves awry and demon hordes are born.

[PEASANTS _cross themselves_.

Yet leave me now, for I am desolate, I hear a whisper from beyond the thunder.

[_She comes from the oratory door._

Yet stay an instant. When we meet again I may have grown forgetful. Oona, take These two--the larder and the dairy keys.

[_To the_ PORTER.]

But take you this. It opens the small room Of herbs for medicine, every kind of herb. The book of curses is on the upper shelf.

PORTER. Why do you do this, lady; did you see
Your coffin in a dream?

CATHLEEN. Ah, no, not that. But I have come to a strange thought. I have heard A sound of wailing in unnumbered hovels, And I must go down, down--I know not where-- Pray for all men and women mad from famine; Pray, you good neighbours.

[_The_ PEASANTS _all kneel_. COUNTESS CATHLEEN _ascends the steps
to the door of the oratory, and turning round stands there
motionless for a little, and then cries in a loud voice_:

Mary, Queen of angels,
And all you clouds on clouds of saints, farewell!

END OF SCENE III

------------------------------------------------------------------------

SCENE IV

FRONT SCENE.--_A wood near the Castle, as in Scene II. A group of_
PEASANTS _pass_.

FIRST PEASANT. I have seen silver and copper, but not gold.

SECOND PEASANT. It’s yellow and it shines.

FIRST PEASANT. It’s beautiful. The most beautiful thing under the sun, That’s what I’ve heard.

THIRD PEASANT. I have seen gold enough.

FOURTH PEASANT. I would not say that it’s so beautiful.

FIRST PEASANT. But doesn’t a gold piece glitter like the sun? That’s what my father, who’d seen better days, Told me when I was but a little boy-- So high--so high, it’s shining like the sun, Round and shining, that is what he said.

SECOND PEASANT. There’s nothing in the world it cannot buy.

FIRST PEASANT. They’ve bags and bags of it.

[_They go out. The two_ MERCHANTS _follow silently. Then_ ALEEL
_passes over the stage singing_.

ALEEL

Impetuous heart, be still, be still, Your sorrowful love can never be told, Cover it up with a lonely tune. He who could bend all things to His will Has covered the door of the infinite fold With the pale stars and the wandering moon.

END OF SCENE IV

------------------------------------------------------------------------

SCENE V

SCENE.--_The house of_ SHEMUS RUA. _There is an alcove at the back with
curtains; in it a bed, and on the bed is the body of_ MARY _with
candles round it. The two_ MERCHANTS _while they speak put a large
book upon a table, arrange money, and so on_.

FIRST MERCHANT. Thanks to that lie I told about her ships And that about the herdsman lying sick, We shall be too much thronged with souls to-morrow.

SECOND MERCHANT. What has she in her coffers now but mice?

FIRST MERCHANT. When the night fell and I had shaped myself Into the image of the man-headed owl, I hurried to the cliffs of Donegal, And saw with all their canvas full of wind And rushing through the parti-coloured sea Those ships that bring the woman grain and meal. They’re but three days from us.

SECOND MERCHANT. When the dew rose I hurried in like feathers to the east, And saw nine hundred oxen driven through Meath With goads of iron. They’re but three days from us.

FIRST MERCHANT. Three days for traffic.

[PEASANTS _crowd in with_ TEIG _and_ SHEMUS.

SHEMUS. Come in, come in, you are welcome. That is my wife. She mocked at my great masters, And would not deal with them. Now there she is; She does not even know she was a fool, So great a fool she was.

TEIG. She would not eat One crumb of bread bought with our master’s money, But lived on nettles, dock, and dandelion.

SHEMUS. There’s nobody could put into her head That Death is the worst thing can happen us. Though that sounds simple, for her tongue grew rank With all the lies that she had heard in chapel. Draw to the curtain.

[TEIG _draws it_.]

You’ll not play the fool
While these good gentlemen are there to save you.

SECOND MERCHANT. Since the drought came they drift about in a
throng,
Like autumn leaves blown by the dreary winds.
Come, deal--come, deal.

FIRST MERCHANT. Who will come deal with us?

SHEMUS. They are out of spirit, sir, with lack of food, Save four or five. Here, sir, is one of these; The others will gain courage in good time.

MIDDLE-AGED MAN. I come to deal--if you give honest price.

FIRST MERCHANT [_reading in a book_]. ‘John Maher, a man of substance, with dull mind, And quiet senses and unventurous heart. The angels think him safe.’ Two hundred crowns, All for a soul, a little breath of wind.

THE MAN. I ask three hundred crowns. You have read there
That no mere lapse of days can make me yours.

FIRST MERCHANT. There is something more writ here--‘Often at night He is wakeful from a dread of growing poor, And thereon wonders if there’s any man That he could rob in safety.’

A PEASANT. Who’d have thought it?
And I was once alone with him at midnight.

ANOTHER PEASANT. I will not trust my mother after this.

FIRST MERCHANT. There is this crack in you--two hundred crowns.

A PEASANT. That’s plenty for a rogue.

ANOTHER PEASANT. I’d give him nothing.

SHEMUS. You’ll get no more--so take what’s offered you.

[_A general murmur, during which the_ MIDDLE-AGED MAN _takes
money, and slips into background, where he sinks on to a seat_.

FIRST MERCHANT. Has no one got a better soul than that? If only for the credit of your parishes, Traffic with us.

A WOMAN. What will you give for mine?

FIRST MERCHANT [_reading in book_]. ‘Soft, handsome, and still young’--not much, I think. ‘It’s certain that the man she’s married to Knows nothing of what’s hidden in the jar Between the hour-glass and the pepper-pot.’

THE WOMAN. The scandalous book.

FIRST MERCHANT. ‘Nor how when he’s away At the horse fair the hand that wrote what’s hid Will tap three times upon the window-pane.’

THE WOMAN. And if there is a letter, that is no reason
Why I should have less money than the others.

FIRST MERCHANT. You’re almost safe, I give you fifty crowns.

[_She turns to go._

A hundred, then.

SHEMUS. Woman, have sense--come, come. Is this a time to haggle at the price? There, take it up. There, there. That’s right.

[_She takes them and goes into the crowd._

FIRST MERCHANT. Come, deal, deal, deal. It is but for charity We buy such souls at all; a thousand sins Made them our Master’s long before we came.

ALEEL _enters_.

ALEEL. Here, take my soul, for I am tired of it.
I do not ask a price.

SHEMUS. Not ask a price? How can you sell your soul without a price? I would not listen to his broken wits; His love for Countess Cathleen has so crazed him He hardly understands what he is saying.

ALEEL. The trouble that has come on Countess Cathleen, The sorrow that is in her wasted face, The burden in her eyes, have broke my wits, And yet I know I’d have you take my soul.

FIRST MERCHANT. We cannot take your soul, for it is hers.

ALEEL. No, but you must. Seeing it cannot help her
I have grown tired of it.

FIRST MERCHANT. Begone from me,
I may not touch it.

ALEEL. Is your power so small? And must I bear it with me all my days? May you be scorned and mocked!

FIRST MERCHANT. Drag him away. He troubles me.

[TEIG _and_ SHEMUS _lead_ ALEEL _into the crowd_.

SECOND MERCHANT. His gaze has filled me, brother,
With shaking and a dreadful fear.

FIRST MERCHANT. Lean forward And kiss the circlet where my Master’s lips Were pressed upon it when he sent us hither; You shall have peace once more.

[SECOND MERCHANT _kisses the gold circlet that is about the head
of the_ FIRST MERCHANT.

I, too, grow weary, But there is something moving in my heart Whereby I know that what we seek the most Is drawing near--our labour will soon end. Come, deal, deal, deal, deal, deal; are you all dumb? What, will you keep me from our ancient home, And from the eternal revelry?

SECOND MERCHANT. Deal, deal.

SHEMUS. They say you beat the woman down too low.

FIRST MERCHANT. I offer this great price: a thousand crowns
For an old woman who was always ugly.

[_An old_ PEASANT WOMAN _comes forward, and he takes up a book
and reads_:

There is but little set down here against her. ‘She has stolen eggs and fowl when times were bad, But when the times grew better has confessed it; She never missed her chapel of a Sunday And when she could, paid dues.’ Take up your money.

OLD WOMAN. God bless you, sir. [_She screams._] Oh, sir, a pain went
through me!

FIRST MERCHANT. That name is like a fire to all damned souls.

[_Murmur among the_ PEASANTS, _who shrink back from her as she
goes out_.

A PEASANT. How she screamed out!

SECOND PEASANT. And maybe we shall scream so.

THIRD PEASANT. I tell you there is no such place as hell.

FIRST MERCHANT. Can such a trifle turn you from your profit?
Come, deal; come, deal.

MIDDLE-AGED MAN. Master, I am afraid.

FIRST MERCHANT. I bought your soul, and there’s no sense in fear
Now the soul’s gone.

MIDDLE-AGED MAN. Give me my soul again.

WOMAN [_going on her knees and clinging to_ MERCHANT]. And take this
money too, and give me mine.

SECOND MERCHANT. Bear bastards, drink or follow some wild fancy; For sighs and cries are the soul’s work, And you have none.

[_Throws the woman off._

PEASANT. Come, let’s away.

ANOTHER PEASANT. Yes, yes.

ANOTHER PEASANT. Come quickly; if that woman had not screamed
I would have lost my soul.

ANOTHER PEASANT. Come, come away.

[_They turn to door, but are stopped by shouts of ‘Countess
Cathleen! Countess Cathleen!’_

CATHLEEN [_entering_]. And so you trade once more?

FIRST MERCHANT. In spite of you.
What brings you here, saint with the sapphire eyes?

CATHLEEN. I come to barter a soul for a great price.

SECOND MERCHANT. What matter, if the soul be worth the price?

CATHLEEN. The people starve, therefore the people go Thronging to you. I hear a cry come from them And it is in my ears by night and day, And I would have five hundred thousand crowns That I may feed them till the dearth go by.

FIRST MERCHANT. It may be the soul’s worth it.

CATHLEEN. There is more:
The souls that you have bought must be set free.

FIRST MERCHANT. We know of but one soul that’s worth the price.

CATHLEEN. Being my own it seems a priceless thing.

SECOND MERCHANT. You offer us----

CATHLEEN. I offer my own soul.

A PEASANT. Do not, do not, for souls the like of ours Are not precious to God as your soul is. O! what would Heaven do without you, lady?

ANOTHER PEASANT. Look how their claws clutch in their leathern
gloves.