Part 3
PROF. Bless you, Peggy. You’re as good as you look. I’ll go with you like a lamb.
PEGGY. Come on. I’ll help you across.
_PEGGY leads PROF. out back._
KILROY. Who’s that ould viper? I seem to know his face. [_Sniffing_] The smell of snuff and fish and whiskey would poison you!
MRS. S. It’s not drink, James. He’s a poor man, with the palsy or something, and Peggy always feeds him in the old kitchen.
KILROY. Well, lord knows how she does it. She’ll surely get a powerful reward in heaven. For I couldn’t go next or near him.
JOSEPH. I could go near him! I’ll go over and give him a penny.
MRS. S. You mustn’t, Joseph. He doesn’t like strangers. He wouldn’t take a penny even from me.
KILROY [_looks watch_]. John, are we going to this auction? If we are it’s time we were away. We won’t have much time to look about us....
MRS. S. Go, in God’s name, and buy it. I’m determined to see Peggy and Joseph in Rush Hill before a month....
JOSEPH. Aye--before a week! Come on, father. [_Goes out back._]
KILROY. He’s a Kilroy! [_Goes out back._]
JOHN [_calls after him_]. I’ll follow you in a minute, James. [_To MRS. S._] Don’t you turn out that unfortunate till I come back.
MRS. S. Why not?
JOHN. Because it’s not right. It’s not Christian. It’s not human. Tim give us a fine start the morning we were married.
MRS. S. You’ve a very long memory.
JOHN. And you’ve a very short one.
MRS. S. Step on. He’ll not be here.
JOHN. If you turn him out he’ll die on the road.
MRS. S. If he does we can bury him. Step on.
JOHN. I may go. But not in God’s name. I’m not enough of a Scribe and Pharisee for that. We couldn’t have luck after this day’s work. We don’t deserve it. [_Goes out back._]
MRS. S. Soft John! You’d give him the shirt off your back. And he’s the boy would take it. But he won’t be here when you come back. Not if I have to drive him in to the station myself and ship him! [_Sniffing_] Mercy! the smell of this house ... snuff or something. [_Opens all the doors and windows and comes back to the centre._] If the Kilroys see him or get to know who he is--that ends everything....
_PEGGY comes in shaking her head._
PEGGY. We’re lost, mother. He’s gone off across the fields to the auction.
MRS. S. [_shrieks_]. What! Gone to the auction! Why did you let him out?
PEGGY. Because I couldn’t keep him in. He threatened me with the knife. The man’s either an eccentric, or he’s crazy....
MRS. S. [_sinks on a chair_]. Oh, Lord above! Am I to be persecuted and afflicted off the face of the earth? Or why do You permit these people--one and all of them--to make my life a misery? Why, why?
_Curtain_
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ACT II
_O’CAHAN’S dining-room. Windows look out on lawn. Door from the hall._
_The room has a general tumble-down appearance. There are pictures of race-horses, jockeys, and a large portrait of O’CAHAN’S deceased uncle on the walls. A few silver cups and other trophies are piled on the sideboard._
_MOLL FLANAGAN, a squat, middle-aged maid, is trying to hang a clean curtain. The sun has darkened, and the bluish light suggests rain._
MOLL. Och, hum, anee oh! May the curse of Cain fall on anyone who comes to the auction, and may they roast forever in eternal torments that buy it over his unfortunate head! [_Fights with curtain_] Blast you, stay up!
_O’C. comes in and looks around for a book._
O’C. Well, Moll, are you spring cleaning?
MOLL. I’m trying to make it a wee bit dacent-looking, dear.
O’C. I think the shutters would be more suitable.
MOLL. We’ll keep a bold front as long as we can.
O’C. But aren’t you a little foolish to hang clean curtains for somebody else?
MOLL. God look down to your wit if you think I’m hanging them for somebody else! It’s for our own bit of respect and dacency. And God look down to your wit if you think Moll Flanagan won’t tear them down after the auction.
O’C. [_going to bookcase_]. Suit yourself, Moll. You’re the housekeeper.
MOLL. And I’ll tear down more than the curtains. I’ll not leave a whole pane of glass in the house, nor a square inch of plaster on the walls or ceilings that I won’t smash off with the hatchet. And they’ll be lucky if I don’t burn it to the ground.
O’C. You mustn’t do anything of the kind, Moll. I draw the line at vandalism. Don’t you see him watching you?
MOLL. Who’s watching me?
O’C. [_pointing to portrait_]. Uncle Hugh. If you start smashing anything he’ll come out of his frame and speak to you.
MOLL. God knows, he’s speaking to me all the time, and his eyes following me everywhere.... Hide the hatchet then, so I won’t be tempted.
O’C. You didn’t happen to see a small book with a greenish cover lying around here? Lindsay Gordon’s poems?
MOLL. I’m sure it’s burnt. I’ve been lighting the fire with books this three days.
O’C. If I saw you lighting the fire with a book, Moll, I’d put you in the oven. [_Finds the book_] Here it is. It has escaped you. [_Opens the book at random and reads._]
“Life is mostly froth and bubble. Two things stand like stone: Kindness in another’s trouble, Courage in your own.”
That bucks a fellow up, Moll.
MOLL. The uncle--God be gracious to him--was dying about that wee book.
O’C. [_turning the leaves_]. I’m looking for something to make my blood start circulating. Listen to this, Moll. [_He rattles off._]
“She passed like an arrow Kildare and Cock Sparrow, And Mantrap and Mermaid refused the stone wall; And Giles on the Grayling came down at the paling And I was left sailing in front of them all.”
MOLL. Many a time I heard the uncle at that. But this was his favourite bit, and he’d rhyme it over fifty times a day. [_She half sings it._]
“She rose when I hit her, I saw the stream glitter, A wide scarlet nostril flashed close to my knee; Between sky and water the Clown came and caught her, The space that he cleared was a caution to see.”
Fancy that now. Passing him in mid-air going over the water-lep.
O’C. [_laughing_]. Good man, Moll! One other spasm. Please. It does me good to hear you.
MOLL. Let me see then. God knows I’d make a fool of myself to hear your laugh. [_She recites._]
“She raced at the rasper, I felt my knees grasp her, I found my hands give to her strain on the bit; She rose when the Clown did--our silks as we bounded, Brushed lightly, our stirrups clashed loud as we hit.”
O’C. Magnificent, Moll! Splendid! [_Drying his eyes_] That’s the best thing I’ve heard for a long time, Moll. If I find myself at Lindsay Gordon’s grave I’ll put an extra flower on it for Moll Flanagan.
MOLL. Where is he buried? In Dublin, is it?
O’C. Certainly. In Glasnevin.
MOLL. He hadn’t an Irish name, but he was a great poet-maker anyway.
O’C. Is Paddy Kinney never back from town?
MOLL [_looking out of window_]. He’s coming up the avenue at this precise minute.
O’C. Well, if you want me I’ll be in the kitchen, reading bits of Gordon to the Professor.
MOLL. All I can say is--you’re very idly employed. For I never seen a monument of desolation like that man walking the world. What’s he a professor av? What’s he profess to be?
O’C. Theology.
MOLL. Theology! And do they give him nothing to live upon? Lord help us, he’s in ruins. He’s like a rat-catcher.
_PADDY KINNEY, an oldish groom, comes in. He has various parcels, including a paper bag with a lady’s hat._
O’C. Well, Paddy, you seem to’ve raised the wind again. You’re laden like a bee in June.
PADDY. Raised the wind, is it! My sowl, your credit’s as good as the Bank of Ireland. I could finance a new railway by naming your name.
O’C. It would be a short railway, Paddy, and a very narrow gauge. But never mind. What have you with you? I didn’t tell you to bring anything.
PADDY. I’ve home money and value. I tell you I was actually refusing obligements at the heels of the hunt. Wait till you see that basket of stuff in the hall. Corn-beef, cakes, and porter galore.
O’C. [_shrugs_]. Many people gathering down at the road?
PADDY. I see nobody but big, blustering Kilroy, and the son at his fut--like a spent foal--and John Scally. I suppose the wife made John toe the line....
O’C. Call me when the auctioneer comes. I’m in the kitchen. [_Goes out._]
PADDY [_bitterly_]. Scoff and roast the town of Ballykennedy! That I may live to see nettles fourteen feet high growing on its main street. The people he spent hundreds of pounds with wouldn’t gimme a pot of jam without the money.
MOLL. How then did you get all the provisions you’ve home with you?
PADDY. I paid for them out of my own bit of savings. Ten pounds I’d past me for a rainy day. Twenty years’ gathering.
MOLL [_comes from window_]. Did you get me anything for my head?
PADDY. I got you a hat. And a dress. That’s what kept so long--choosing them. I’ll never undertake a work of the kind again if I live forever.
MOLL [_excited_]. Show me the hat, Paddy. Quick. Quick.
PADDY. You’ll put the dress on first. You wouldn’t want to put the dress on over the hat, would you? You always put the saddle on a horse before the bridle.
_He opens a parcel and takes out a red dress with black spots._
MOLL. I don’t like it!
PADDY. Well, blessid and holy Moses, such cheek! You don’t like it?
MOLL. I never liked red.
PADDY. Because you never had any taste! Weren’t you and your clothes always a born fright! Here, on with it now.
MOLL [_takes dress_]. Go you out of the room before I on with it.
PADDY. Gwon, get into it! I’m not looking at you at all. I’ve something else in my mind this minute than your figure.
MOLL. Well, turn your back, Paddy, like a decent man.
PADDY [_going to window_]. Blast you and your modesty! You’d think you were sixteen. Hurry up now, or I’ll wheel on you.
_MOLL puts dress on._
MOLL. All right, Paddy. You can turn now.
PADDY [_turning_]. It’s a pome. You’re like the pillar of fire that walked before Moses.
MOLL [_twisting_]. How does it look at the back?
PADDY. Could you not tighten the girths a little?
MOLL [_tightening it_]. It should have a belt.... Is that better?
PADDY. I asked the shopkeeper if there wasn’t a surcingle, and he said surcingles are out of fashion.
MOLL [_trying to look at her heels_]. How does it look round at the back, Paddy?
PADDY. Jog across there a few paces.
MOLL. Lord, it’s not a horse you’re vittin.
PADDY. How then can I see your back if you don’t give me a show? Jog on. [_MOLL obeys._] Woah! Stand up straight.... Draw yourself together now and come on with the head well up, and shorten your stride a little. [_MOLL obeys._] Woah. It has just one fault. It’s far too stylish for the like of you.
MOLL [_pleased_]. Oh, that’s a good fault. I’ll keep it. Let me see the hat now.
_He takes out a bilious-looking hat entwined with varnished cherries._
PADDY. Put that on your head now. And then look in the glass.
MOLL. Oh, it’s a beauty! Oh, I like the hat, Paddy. But I haven’t a hat-pin....
PADDY. There you are. Two of them. [_Hands her two pins._]
MOLL [_putting hat on_]. God knows, Paddy Kinney, you’re a marvel. You forget nothing.
PADDY. A man that’s looked after leppin’ horses for twenty years doesn’t forget much.
MOLL. And to be a man you’re tasty.
PADDY. A man that’s attended Dublin Horse Show for twenty years should know when a woman’s dressed.
MOLL. Wait till I see how it looks. [_Goes to a mirror and stands twisting her neck._]
PADDY. Take care you don’t twist your neck out of joint.... My God, the vanity of wimin!
MOLL [_turning_]. Isn’t it simply gorgeous, Paddy?
PADDY. You’ve left me without a word to say. It’s a pome.
MOLL. I’m well pleased with everything, Paddy. What did they cost?
PADDY. They cost you nothing at all. They’re an acknowledgment for all the imperence and washing and patching you’ve done for me.... Your health to wear them.
MOLL. Ah, Paddy, Paddy....
PADDY. Not another word now or I’ll rise and lep through my weskit.
MOLL. But ’twas too much, Paddy....
PADDY. No more, I say. It’s our last day under this roof, and you can face the world now well dressed and respectable. With that rig you’ll have no trouble getting new service....
MOLL. Whisht ... whisht!
_O’C. and PROF. come in._
O’C. The Professor wants to speak to you, Paddy.
PROF. Hallo, Paddy Kinney. Gun, I’d know your old phizog in a Sahara sandstorm.
PADDY. Well, in sowl, you’ve the advantage of me ... for asleep or awake I’ve never seen you before.
O’C. Nonsense, Paddy. You know him all right. Mrs. Scally’s brother--Professor Tim.
PADDY. Ah, surely to God! It’s Tim of the hazel rod [_shaking hands_]. And how’s every inch of you, Professor?
PROF. Gum, Paddy, I’m not as robust as I was. But I’m not getting any younger. And I’ve been travelling a deal lately. I’m tired.
PADDY. You want a month on the grass with the shoes off.
PROF. Exactly, Paddy. Complete rest.
PADDY. Well, I’m glad to see you, Professor. Keep a good spirit. Plenty of good mate and drink and the pure air ’ill soon bring you into condition.
PROF. But where am I going to get all that, Paddy? The Scallys don’t want me. My own sister pushed me out of doors.
PADDY. And for a man that has travelled the world--what did you expect?
PROF. I didn’t expect much, Paddy. That’s true. But I didn’t reckon on being pushed out of doors.
PADDY. Well, that’s where you made a mistake, Professor. For when a man comes down in the world as far as he can get, his own relations give him the last kick.... There’s a couple of bob, Tim. I wish it was more. But there’s a basket of corn-beef, cakes, and porter in the hall. You can help yourself.
PROF. [_taking money_]. Thanks, Paddy. Gum, you’re a good Irishman.
PADDY. Yerra, nonsense! Sure an ould timer’s an ould timer whether he’s down or up.
O’C. The Professor wants you to see about a valise, Paddy.
PADDY. With all my heart.
PROF. I’ve dropped it somewhere, Paddy. It’s either at Ballykennedy station or London.
PADDY. I’ll try Ballykennedy station first, I think.
PROF. Gum, yes. You’d get lost in London.
O’C. You can go in after a bit, Paddy.... Come on, Professor....
MOLL. Are you not looking at my new dress, master?
O’C. I’ve been looking at nothing else, Moll. You’re a picture. [_To PADDY_] There’s a French milliner lost in you, Paddy.
PROF. Gum, Moll, I’ve travelled seven times round the world and never seen a more devastating colour scheme. You’re like a bird of paradise.
MOLL. I wouldn’t like to be too peacockish.
PROF. You’re not a bit too peacockish. You’re more of a macaw.
_PROF. and O’C. go out._
PADDY. So that’s the end of Professor Tim! That man’s as far down as he can get. And I mind him a nice young fellow, and a devil for fun. He’d put a white sheet on himself and sit for a whole night moaning on the graveside wall.... Poor Tim.
MOLL. He’s an eye for a well-dressed woman anyway. Seven times round the world and never seen the beat of it.
PADDY. He’ll go round it seven times more before he sees the like of it.
MOLL. I must take great care of it, Paddy. [_Takes hat off._] I’ll keep the dress on till after the auction.
PADDY [_takes out a new trotting collar and tie_]. This is for myself. And listen to me, Moll Flanagan, and don’t breathe a word of this till the master....
MOLL. Lord save us, Paddy, but you can look la-mentable serious. You’re not going to mention marriage....
PADDY. I haven’t the least notion of marriage. I’ve trouble enough without marrying more.
MOLL. That’s pure imperence.
PADDY. Listen you to what I’m saying. Isn’t there a black coat and hat of the ould master’s upstairs?
MOLL. There’s a full black suit, not a pin the worse. And a beautiful hat.
PADDY. Well, take and brush them well and slip them round to the stable. And don’t let a living sowl see you. I’m going to dress up like a country squire and make the Kilroys pay for Rush Hill.
MOLL. My darlin’ Paddy! Lord, but that’s a noble trick.... I’ll brush them like a new pin and take them round under my apron.
PADDY. By my sowl, if we have to get out cheap, the Kilroys ’ill have to come in dear. I’ll salt it to the very bone.
MOLL. Hide the collar and tie.... I hear someone coming in....
_PEGGY comes in._
PEGGY. Where is Mr. O’Cahan?
MOLL. In the kitchen, honey.
PEGGY. Anyone with him?
MOLL. A Professor of Theeology.
PADDY. Mind your tongue now, Moll.
PEGGY. It’s all right, Paddy. Moll wouldn’t sting me.
MOLL. God knows I wouldn’t. I love the ground you walk on.
PEGGY. Tell Mr. O’Cahan to come here, Moll. You needn’t say who wants him.
MOLL. Not a word, dear. [_Going, but turns back_] Do you like my new dress, Miss Peggy?
PEGGY. Very much indeed, Moll. It’s quite smart.
MOLL. It’s a thought too stylish for the likes of me, but it’s a good fault. The hat to match it is in the bag. Show it to her, Paddy. [_Goes out._]
PADDY [_very serious_]. Are you going to marry him, Peggy?
PEGGY. I’m afraid not, Paddy. Things have gone against us.
PADDY. That’s the very time to lay your cheek to the mane and ride for your life ... when the race is all but lost.
PEGGY. It’s not so easy, Paddy.
PADDY. O’Cahan always rides hardest in the rocky field.... You’ll never find a mate like Hugh O’Cahan.
PEGGY. I know it.
PADDY. And such an archangel on a horse! Lord, ’twas a pome to watch him taking the stone wall. And the double-bank, he’d touch it as light and airy as a thistledown....
PEGGY. I know, Paddy. I know.
PADDY. Says the white-haired Judge, tucking the red roseatte in the bridle, “I’ve never in the coorse of a long life,” says he, “beheld such classical leppin.” ... That was a day!
PEGGY. I know, Paddy.
PADDY. Did I ever tell you the story about the big brown horse, Havoc, the time he gave a great lunge and pulled O’Cahan out of the saddle and up on his neck?...
PEGGY. You did, Paddy. You told me all about it ... several times.... You’ll have to excuse me, Paddy. I want a few words privately with Hugh....
PADDY. Certainly. I’ll pull out the minute he comes in.... But do what I tell you now. Go with him wherever he goes. He’s only five-and-twenty. Put your money on O’Cahan, Peggy. At thirty he’ll be one of the successful men of the world.... [_He dries the sweat off his brow._]
PEGGY. He’s a three-quarter Vet. as it is. Why doesn’t he finish?
PADDY. Aye--to vet Ford cars.... It’s disgusting! The blight is upon us, Peggy. The horse is going, the O’Cahans are going, and the Paddy Kinneys are doomed.... It’s Ireland’s tragedy, but she doesn’t know it.
PEGGY. I hear him coming, Paddy.
PADDY. All right, I’m going. But don’t forget Paddy Kinney’s warning, or you’ll never know happiness again. Without O’Cahan by your side you won’t know the summer from the winter but by the leaves on the bushes....
_O’C. comes in, looking displeased. PADDY goes out, doleful._
PEGGY. I see you’re angry, Hugh. But mother sent me after uncle Tim.
O’C. I’m not angry. I’m ashamed of this place.
PEGGY. I’m not looking at the place at all. Is uncle in the kitchen?
O’C. Yes.
PEGGY. Will you tell him to go home? Mother wants him back.
O’C. I’m not holding him. But I won’t ask him to go. That would be breaking an old custom in this house.
PEGGY. Will you let me see him?
O’C. I think he’s coming in.... [_Calls_] Come in, Professor.
PEGGY. Hugh, don’t call him Professor.... It hurts.
_PROF. comes in eating biscuits and cheese._
PROF. Hallo, pretty Peggy. Have you tracked me down already?
O’C. I’ll leave you....
PEGGY. You needn’t, Hugh.... Uncle Tim, you’re to come home.
PROF. Want the luxury of throwing me out again?
PEGGY. I didn’t throw you out.
PROF. Your mother did.
PEGGY. Well, she wants you back. She sent me to fetch you. The stationmaster has sent out your valise....
PROF. Your mother must think it contains something valuable. [_Chuckling._] Gum, she’s mistaken. The contents are some old clothes and a hazel rod--the symbol of my profession.
PEGGY. Hugh, won’t you tell him to come with me? Please.
O’C. He can suit himself, Peggy. He knows how matters are here.
PROF. I’ll stroll over after a bit, Peggy. We’re going to’ve an auction here. Gum, I’ll stay till it’s over.... See a bit of Irish life.
_PADDY puts his head in._
PADDY. There’s a railway porter here with an ould port-mantle. He wants a tip.
PROF. Gum, Paddy, you’ve got a sense of humour. [_Going_] I thought I’d dropped it in London. [_Goes out._]
PEGGY. Are the Kilroys here?
O’C. Yes, they’re hovering around somewhere--like jackals.
PEGGY. They’re going to buy Rush Hill for Joseph and me.
O’C. So I believe.
PEGGY. And you don’t mind?
O’C. Don’t mind? That’s a rather funny question. Suppose I did mind. Would that alter it?
PEGGY. You never know. Marrying Joseph Kilroy is one thing, but coming to live here is another.
O’C. If you can do the one you can do both.
PEGGY. I may do neither. What time are you leaving here to-night?
O’C. Whatever time the last train goes. Seven o’clock, I think.
PEGGY. I’m going to ask you a pointed question, Hugh. How much money have you?
O’C. I got two hundred pounds for Havoc. I’ve that, but I’ve to pay for a colt out of it. Forty pounds.
PEGGY [_takes out packet_]. These presents would make two hundred more. If you don’t sell them, I will!
O’C. Suit yourself.
PEGGY. Will you call at our house before you go?
O’C. What’s the idea, Peggy?
PEGGY. Never mind that now. Will you call?
O’C. Some new notion. I’ll call anyhow. About six.
PEGGY. Thanks. [_Puts the packet in her pocket._] I’ll expect you at six.... I’ll go now and try and get uncle Tim to come home with me....
_PROF. comes in with an old valise, plastered with innumerable labels._
PROF. Gum, this old valise and me have seen some ups and downs. [_He puts it on a chair and fumbles for the key._] I’ve dropped it in Paris, and picked it up in Honolulu....
PEGGY. Aren’t you coming home, uncle?