Brian  Friel

Translations

(abridged)

MAIRE

HUGH

OWEN

CAPTAIN LANCEY

LIEUTENANT YOLLAND

MANUS

DOALTY

BRIDGET

MANUS

ACT  ONE

HUGH: Indeed I encountered Captain Lancey of the Royal Engineers who is engaged in the ordnance survey of this area. He tells me that in the past few days two of his horses have strayed and some of his equipment seems to be mislaid. I expressed my regret and suggested he address you himself on these matters. He then explained that he does not speak Irish. Latin? I asked. None. Greek? Not a syllable. He speaks- on his own admission- only English; and to his credit he seemed suitably verecund- James?

JIMMY: Verecundus- humble.

HUGH: Indeed- he voiced some surprise that we did not speak his language. I explained that a few of us did, on occasion- outside the parish of course- and then usually for the purposes of commerce, a use to which his tongue seemed particularly suited- (Shouts) and a slice of soda bread- and I went on to propose that our own culture and the classical tongues made a happier conjugation- Doalty?

DOALTY: Conjugo- I join together.

(DOALTY is so pleased with himself that he prods and winks at BRIDGET.)

HUGH: Indeed- English, I suggested, couldnt really express us. And again to his credit he acquiesced  to my logic. Acquiesced- Maire?

(MAIRE turns away impatiently. HUGH is unaware of the gesture.)

Too slow. Bridget?

BRIDGET: Acquiesco.

HUGH: Procede.

BRIDGET:Acquiesco, acquiescere, acquievi, acquietum.

HUGH: Indeed- and Item B.

MAIRE: Master.

HUGH: Yes?

(MAIRE gets to her feet uneasily but determinedly. Pause.)

Well, girl?

MAIRE: We should all be learning to speak English .Thats what my mother says. Thats what I say. Thats what Dan OConnell said last month in Ennis. He said the sooner we all learn to speak English the better.

(Suddenly several speak together.)

JIMMY: Whats she saying? What? What?

DOALTY: Its Irish he uses when hes travelling around scrounging votes.

BRIDGET: And sleeping with married women. Sure no womans safe from that fella.

JIMMY: Who- who- who? Whos this? Whos this?

HUGH: Silentium! (Pause) Who is she talking about?

MAIRE: Im talking about Daniel OConnell.

HUGH: Does she mean that little Kerry politician?

MAIRE: Im talking about the Liberator, Master, as you well know. And what he said was this: The old language is a barrier to modern progress. He said that last month. And hes right. I dont want Greek. I dont want Latin. I want English.

(MANUS reappears on the platform above.)

I want to be able to speak English because Im going to America as soon as the harvests all saved.

(MAIRE remains standing. HUGH puts his hand into his pocket and produces a flask of whisky. He removes the cap, pours a drink into it, tosses it back, replaces the cap, puts the flask back into his pocket. Then.)

HUGH: We have been diverted diverto- divertere- Where were we?

DOALTY: Three items of information, Master. Youre at Item B.

HUGH: Indeed- Item B- Item B-yes- On my way to the christening this morning I chanced to meet Mr George Alexander, Justice of the Peace. We discussed the new national school. Mr Alexander invited me to take charge of it when it opens. I thanked him and explained that I could do that only if I were free to run it as I have run this hedge-school for the past thirty-five years- filling what our friend Euripides calls the aplestos pithos- James?

JIMMY: The cask that cannot be filled.

HUGH: Indeed- and Mr Alexander retorted courteously and emphatically that he hopes that is how it will be run.

(MAIRE now sits.)

Indeed . I have had a strenuous day and I am weary of you all. (He rises.) Manus will take care of you.

(HUGH goes towards the steps.

OWEN enters. OWEN is the younger son, a handsome, attractive young man in his twenties. He is dressed smartly- a city man. His manner is easy and charming: everything he does is invested with consideration and enthusiasm. He now stands framed in the doorway, a travelling bag across his shoulder.)

OWEN: Could anybody tell me is this where Hugh Mor ODonnell holds his hedge- school?

DOALTY: Its Owen- Owen Hugh! Look, boys- its Owen Hugh!

(OWEN enters. As he crosses the room he touches and has a word for each person.)

OWEN: Doalty! (Playful punch.) How are you, boy?

Jacobe, quid agis? Are you well?

JIMMY: Fine. Fine.

OWEN: And Bridget! Give us a kiss. Aaaaah!

BRIDGET: Youre welcome, Owen.

OWEN: Its not? Yes, it is Maire Chatach! God! A young woman!

MAIRE: How are you, Owen?

(OWEN is now in front of HUGH. He puts his two hands on his fathers shoulders.)

OWEN: And hows the old man himself?

HUGH: Fair- fair.

OWEN: Fair? For Gods sake you never looked better! Come here to me.

(He embraces HUGH warmly and genuinely.) Great to see you, Father. Great to be back.

(HUGHs eyes are moist- partly joy, partly the drink.)

HUGH: I- Im- Im- pay no attention to-

OWEN: Come on- come on- come on- (He gives HUGH his handkerchief.) Do you know what you and I are going to do tonight ? We are going to go up to Anna na mBreags

DOALTY: Not there, Owen.

OWEN: Why not?

DOALTY: Her poteens worse than ever.

BRIDGET: They say she puts frogs in it!

OWEN: All the better. (To HUGH.) And you and I are going to get footless drunk. Thats arranged.

(OWEN sees MANUS coming down the steps with tea and soda bread. They meet at the bottom.)

And Manus!

MANUS: Youre welcome, Owen.

OWEN: I know I am. And its great to be here. (He turns round, arms outstretched.) I cant believe it . I come back after six years and everythings just as it was! Nothings changed! Not a thing! (Sniffs) Even that smell- thats the same smell this place always had. What is it anyway? Is it the straw?

DOALTY: Jimmy Jacks feet.

(General laughter. It opens little pockets of conversation round the room.)

OWEN: And Doalty Dan Doalty hasnt changed either!

DOALTY: Bloody right, Owen.

OWEN: Jimmy, are you well?

JIMMY: Dodging about.

OWEN: Any word of the big day?

(This is greeted with ohs and ahs.)

Time enough, Jimmy. Homers easier to live with, isnt he?

MAIRE: We heard stories that you own ten big shops in Dublin- is it true?

OWEN: Only nine.

BRIDGET: And youve twelve horses and six servants.

OWEN: Yes- thats true. God Almighty, would you listen to them- taking a hand at me!

MANUS: When did you arrive?

OWEN: We left Dublin yesterday morning, spent last night in Omagh and got here half an hour ago.

MANUS: Youre hungry then.

HUGH: Indeed- get him food- get him a drink.

OWEN: Not now, thanks; later. Listen- am I interrupting you all?

HUGH: By no means. Were finished for the day.

OWEN: Wonderful. Ill tell you why. Two friends of mine are waiting outside the door. Theyd like to meet you and Id like you to meet them. May I bring them in?

HUGH: Certainly. Youll eat and have.

OWEN: Not just yet, Father. Youve seen the sappers working in this area for the past fortnight, havent you? Well, the older man is Captain Lancey.

HUGH: Ive met Captain Lancey.

OWEN: Great. Hes the cartographer in charge of this whole area .

Cartographer- James?

(OWEN begins to play this game- his fathers game- partly to involve his classroom audience , partly to show he has not forgotten it, and indeed partly because he enjoys it.)

JIMMY: A maker of maps.

OWEN: Indeed- and the younger man that I travelled with from Dublin, his name is Lieutenant Yolland and he is attached to the toponymic department- Father?- responde- responde!

HUGH: He gives names to places.

OWEN: Indeed- although he is in fact an orthographer- Doalty?- too slow- Manus?

MAANUS: The correct spelling of those names.

OWEN: Indeed- indeed!

(OWEN laughs and claps his hands. Some of the others join in.)

Beautiful! Beautiful! Honest to God, its such a delight to be back here with you all again- civilised people. Anyhow- may I bring them in?

HUGH: Your friends are our friends.

OWEN: Ill be straight back.

(There is a general talk as OWEN goes towards the door. He stops beside SARAH.)

OWEN: Thats a new face. Who are you?

( A very brief hesitation. Then.)

SARAH: My name is Sarah.

OWEN: Sarah who?

SAARAH: Sarah Johnny Sally.

OWEN: Of course! From Bun na hAbhann! Im Owen- Owen Hugh Mor. From Baile Beag. Good to see you.

(During this OWEN- SARAH exchange.)

HUGH: Come on now. Lets tidy this place up. (He rubs the top of his table with his sleeve.) Move, Doalty- lift those books off the floor.

DOALTY: Right, Master; certainly, Master; Im doing my best, Master.

(OWEN stops at the door.)

OWEN: One small thing, Father.

HUGH: Silentium!

OWEN: Im on their pay- roll.

(SARAH, very elated at her success, is beside MANUS.)

SARAH: I said it, Manus!

(MANUS ignores SARAH. He is much more interested in OWEN now.)

MANUS: You havent enlisted, have you?!

(SARAH moves away.)

OWEN: Me a soldier? Im employed as a part-time, underpaid, civilian interpreter. My job is to translate the quaint, archaic tongue you people persist in speaking into the Kings good English. (He goes out.)

HUGH: Move- move- move! Put some order on things! Come on, Sarah- hide that bucket. Whose are these slates? Somebody take these dishes away. Festinate! Festinate!

(HUGH pours another drink.

MANUS goes to MAIRE who is busy tidying.)

MANUS: You didnt tell me you were definitely leaving.

MAIRE: Not now.

HUGH: Good girl, Bridget. Thats the style.

MANUS: You might at least have told me.

HUGH: Are these your books, James?

JIMMY: Thank you.

MANUS: Fine! Fine! Go ahead! Go ahead!

MAIRE: You talk to me about getting married- with neither a roof over your head nor a sod of ground under your foot. I suggest you go for the new school; but no- My fathers in for that. Well now hes got it and now this is finished and now youve nothing.

MANUS: I can always.

MAIRE: What? Teach classics to the cows? Agh-

(MAIRE moves away from MANUS.

OWEN enters with LANCEY and YOLLAND. CAPTAIN LANCEY is middle-aged; a small, crisp officer, expert in his field as cartographer but uneasy with people- especially civilians, especially these foreign civilians. His skill is with deeds, not words.

LIEUTENANT YOLLAND is in his late twenties/early thirties. He is tall and thin and gangling, blond hair, a shy, awkward manner. A soldier by accident.)

OWEN: Here we are. Captain Lancey- my father.

LANCEY: Good evening.

(HUGH becomes expansive, almost courtly, with his visitors.)

HUGH: You and I have already met, sir.

LANCEY: Yes.

OWEN: And Lieutenant Yolland- both Royal Engineers- my father.

HUGH: Youre very welcome, gentlemen.

YOLLAND: How do you do.

HUGH: Gaudeo vos hic adesse.

OWEN: And Ill make no other introductions except that these are some of the people of Baile Beag and- what?- well youre among the best people in Ireland now. (He pauses to allow LANCEY to speak. LANCEY does not.) Would you like to say a few words, Captain?

HUGH: What about a drop, sir?

LANCEY: A what?

HUGH: Perhaps a modest refreshment? A little sampling of our aqua vitae?

LANCEY: No, no.

HUGH: Later perhaps when.

LAANCEY: Ill say what I have to say, if I may, and as briefly as possible. Do they speak any English, Roland?

OWEN: Dont worry. Ill translate.

LANCEY: I see. (He clears his throat. He speaks as if he were addressing children- a shade too loudly and enunciating excessively.) You may have seen me- seen me- working in this section- section?- working. We are here- here- in this place you understand?- to make a map- a map- a map and-

JIMMY: Nonne Latine loquitur?

(HUGH holds up a restraining hand.)

HUGH: James.

LANCEY: (To JIMMY) I do not speak Gaelic, sir. (He looks at OWEN.)

OWEN: Carry on.

LANCEY: A map is representation on paper- a picture- you understand picture?- a paper picture- showing, representing this country-yes?- showing, representing this country- yes?- showing your country in miniature- a scaled drawing on paper of- of- of-

(Suddenly DOALTY sniggers. Then BRIDGET. Then SARAH. OWEN leaps in quickly.)

OWEN: It might be better if you assume they understand you-

LANCEY: Yes?

OWEN: And Ill translate as you go along.

LANCEY: I see. Yes. Very well. Perhaps youre right. Well. What we are doing is this. (He looks at OWEN. OWEN nods reassuringly.) His Majestys government has ordered the first ever comprehensive survey of this entire country- a general triangulation which will embrace detailed hydrographic and topographic information and which will be executed to a scale of six inches to the English mile.

HUGH: (Pouring a drink) Excellent- excellent.

(LANCEY looks at OWEN.)

OWEN: A new map is being made of the whole country.

( LANCEY looks to OWEN: Is that all? OWEN smiles reassuringly and indicates to proceed.)

LANCEY: This enormous task has been embarked on so that the military authorities will be equipped with up-to-date and accurate information on every corner of this part of the Empire.

OWEN: The job is being done by soldiers because they are skilled in this work.

LANCEY: And also so that the entire basis of land valuation can be reassessed for purposes of more equitable taxation.

OWEN: This new map will take the place of the estate-agents map so that from now on you will know exactly what is yours in law.

LANCEY: In conclusion I wish to quote two brief extracts from the white paper which is our governing charter: (Reads) All former surveys of Ireland originated in forfeiture and violent transfer of property; the present survey has for its object the relief which can be afforded to the proprietors and occupiers of land from unequal taxation.

OWEN: The captain hopes that the public will cooperate with the sappers and that the new map will mean that taxes are reduced.

HUGH: A worthy enterprise-opus honestum! And Extract B?

LANCEY: Ireland is privileged. No such survey is being undertaken in England. So this survey cannot but be received as proof of the disposition of this government to advance the interests of Ireland. My sentiments, too.

OWEN: This survey demonstrates the governments interest in Ireland and the captain thanks you for listening so attentively to him.

HUGH: Our pleasure, Captain.

LANCCEY: Lieutenant Yolland?

YOLLAND: I- I- Ive nothing to say- really-

OWEN: The captain is the man who actually makes the new map. Georges task is to see that the place-names on this map are correct. (To YOLLAND.) Just a few words- theyd like to hear you. (To class.) Dont you want to hear George, too?

MAIRE: Has he anything to say?

YOLLAND: (To MAIRE) Sorry- sorry?

OWEN: She says shes dying to hear you.

YOLLAND: (To MAIRE) Very kind of you- thank you(To class.) I can only say that I feel I feel very foolish to-to to be working here and not to speak your language. But I intend to rectify that- with Rolands help- indeed I do.

OWEN: He wants me to teach him Irish!

HUGH: You are doubly welcome, sir.

YOLLAND: I think your countryside is is- is-is very beautiful. Ive fallen in love with it already. I hope were not too- too crude an intrusion on your lives. And I know that Im going to be happy, very happy, here.

OWEN: He is already a committed Hibernophile-

JIMMY: He loves

OWEN: Alright, Jimmy- we know- he loves Baile Beag; and he loves you all.

HUGH: Please May I?

(HUGH is now drunk. He holds on to the edge of the table.)

OWEN: Go ahead, Father. (Hands up for quiet.) Please- please.

HUGH: And we, gentlemen, we in turn are happy to offer you our friendship, our hospitality, and every assistance that you may require. Gentlemen- welcome!

(A few desultory claps. The formalities are over. General conversation. The soldiers meet the locals.

MANUS and OWEN meet down stage.)

OWEN: Lanceys a bloody ramrod but Georges alright. How are you anyway?

MANUS: What sort of translation was that, Owen?

OWEN: Did I make a mess of it?

MANUS: You werent saying what Lancey was saying!

OWEN: Uncertainty in meaning is incipient poetry- who said that?

MANUS: There was nothing uncertain about what Lancey said: its a bloody military operation, Owen! And whats Yollands function? Whats incorrect about the place-names we have here?

OWEN: Nothing at all. Theyre just going to be standardised.

MANUS: You mean changed into English?

OWEN: Where theres ambiguity, theyll be Anglicised.

MANUS: And they call you Roland! They both call you Roland!

OWEN: Shhh. Isnt it ridiculous? They seemed to get it wrong from the very beginning- or else they cant pronounce Owen. I was afraid some of you bastards would laugh.

MANUS: Arent you going to tell them?

OWEN: Yes- yes- soon- soon.

MANUS: But they

OWEN: Easy, man, easy. Owen- Roland- what the hell. Its only a name. Its the same me, isnt it? Well, isnt it?

MANUS: Indeed it is. Its the same Owen.

OWEN: And the same Manus. And in a way we complement each other.

( He punches MANUS lightly, playfully and turns to join the others. As he goes.)

Alright- who has met whom? Isnt this a job for the go-between?

(MANUS watches OWEN move confidently across the floor, taking MAIRE by the hand and introducing her to YOLLAND.

HUGH is trying to negotiate the steps.

JIMMY is lost in a text.

DOALTY and BRIDGET are reliving their giggling.

SARAH is staring at MANUS.)

ACT TWO

SCENE ONE

The sappers have already mapped most of the area. YOLLANDs official task, which OWEN is now doing, is to take each of the Gaelic names- every hill, stream, rock, even every patch of ground which possessed its own distinctive Irish name- and Anglicise it, either by changing it into into its approximate English sound or by translating it into English words. For example, a Gaelic name like Cnoc Ban could become Knockban or- directly translated- Fair Hill. These new standardised names were entered into the Name-Book, and when the new maps appeared they contained all these new Anglicised names. OWENs official function as translator is to pronounce each name in Irish and then provide the English translation.

The hot weather continues. It is late afternoon some days later.

Stage right: an improvised clothes-line strung between the shafts of the cart and a nail in the wall; on it are some shirts and socks.

A large map- one of the new blank maps- is spread out on the floor. OWEN is on his hands and knees, consulting it. He is totally engrossed in his task which he pursues with great energy and efficiency.

YOLLANDs hesitancy has vanished- he is at home here now. He is sitting on the floor, his long legs stretched out before him, his back resting against a creel, his eyes closed. His mind is elsewhere. One of the reference books- a church registry- lies open on his lap.

Around them are various reference books, the Name-Book, a bottle of poteen, some cups etc.

OWEN completes an entry in the Name-Book and returns to the map on the floor.

OWEN: Now. Where have we got to? Yes- the point where that stream enters the sea- that tiny little beach there. George!

YOLLAND: Yes. Im listening. What do you call it? Say the Irish name again?

OWEN: Bun na hAbhann.

YOLLAAND: Again.

OWEN: Bun na hAbhann.

YOLLAAND: Bun na hAbhann.

OWEN: Thats terrible, George.

YOLLAND: I know. Im sorry. Say it again.

OWEN: Bun na hAbhann.

YOLLAND: Bun na hAbhann.

OWEN: Thats better. Bun is the Irish word for bottom. And Abha means river. So it its literally the mouth of the river.

YOLLAAND: Lets leave it alone. Theres no English equivalent for a sound like that.

OWEN: What is it called in the church registry?

(Only now does YOLLAND open his eyes.)

YOLLAND: Lets see.Banowen.

OWEN: Thats wrong. (Consults text.) The list of freeholders calls it Owenmore- thats completely wrong: Owenmores the big river at the west end of the parish. (Another text.) And in the grand jury lists its called- God!- Binhone!- wherever they got that. I suppose we could Anglicize it to Bunowen; but somehow thats neither fish nor flesh.

(YOLLAND closes his eyes again.)

YOLLAND: I give up.

OWEN: (At map) Back to first principles. What are we trying to do?

YOLLAND: Good question.

OWEN: We are trying to denominate and at the same time describe that tiny area of soggy, rocky, sandy ground where that little stream enters the sea, an area known locally as Bun na hAbhannBurnfoot! What about Burnfoot?

YOLLAND: (Indifferently) Good, Roland. Burnfoots good.

OWEN: George, my name isnt.

YOLLAND: B-u-r-n-f-o-o-t?

OWEN: I suppose so. What do you think?

YOLLAND: Yes.

OWEN: Are you happy with that?

YOLLAND: Yes.

OWEN: Burnfoot it is then. (He makes the entry into the Name-Book.) Bun na hAbhann- B-u-r-n-

YOLLAND: Youre becoming very skilled at this.

OWEN: Were not moving fast enough.

YOLLAND; (Opens eyes again) Lancey lectured me again last night.

OWEN: When does he finish here?

YOLLAND: The sappers are pulling out at the end of the week. The trouble is, the maps theyve completed cant be printed without these names. So London screams at Lancey and Lancey screams at me. But I wasnt intimidated.

(MANUS emerges from upstairs and descends.)

Im sorry, sir, I said, But certain tasks demand their own tempo. You cannot rename a whole country overnight. Your Irish air has made me bold. (To MANUS.) Do you want us to leave?

MANUS: Time enough. Class wont begin for another half-hour.

YOLLAND: Sorry- sorry?

OWEN: Cant you speak English?

(MANUS gathers the things off the clothes-line. OWEN returns to the map.)

OWEN: We now come across that beach

YOLLAND: Tra- thats the Irish for beach. (To MANUS.) Im picking up the odd words, Manus.

MANUS: So.

OWEN:.on past Burnfoot; and theres nothing around here that has any name that I know of until we come down here to the south end, just about here and there should be a ridge of rocks there Have the sappers marked it? They have. Look, George.

YOLLAND: Where are we?

OWEN: There.

YOLLAND: Im lost.

OWEN: Here. And the name of that ridge is Druim Dubh. Put English on that, Lieutenant.

YOLLAAND: Say it again.

OWEN: Druim Dubh.

YOLLAND: Dubh means black.

OWEN: Yes.

YOLLAND: And Druim means .what? a fort?

OWEN: We met it yesterday in Druim Luachra.

YOLLAND: A ridge! The Black Ridge! (To MANUS.) You see, Manus?

OWEN: Well have you fluent at the Irish before the summers over.

YOLLAND: Oh I wish I were.

(To MANUS as he crosses to go back upstairs.) We got a crate of oranges from Dublin today. Ill send some up to you.

MANUS: Thanks. (To OWEN.) Better hide that bottle. Fathers just up and hed be better without it.

OWEN: Cant you speak English before your man?

MANUS: Why?

OWEN: Out of courtesy.

MANUS: Doesnt he want to learn Irish? (To YOLLAND) Dont you want to learn Irish?

YOLLAND: Sorry- sorry? I- I-

MANUS: I understand the Lanceys perfectly but people like you puzzle me.

OWEN: Manus, for Gods sake!

MANUS: (Still to YOLLAND) Hows the work going?

YOLLAND: The work?- the work? Oh, its- its staggering along- I think- (To OWEN.)- isnt it? But wed be lost without Roland.

MANUS: (Leaving) Im sure . But there are always the Rolands, arent there? (He goes upstairs and exits.)

YOLLAND: What was that he said?- something about Lancey, was it?

OWEN: He said we should hide that bottle before Father gets his hands on it.

YOLLAND: Ah.

OWEN: Hes always trying to protect him.

YOLLAND: Was he lame from birth?

OWEN: An accident when he was a baby: Father fell across his cradle. Thats why Manus feels so responsible for him.

YOLLAND: Why doesnt he marry?

OWEN: Cant afford to, I suppose.

YOLLAND: Hasnt he a salary?

OWEN: What a salary? All he gets is the odd shilling Father throws him and thats seldom enough. I got out in time, didnt I?

(YOLLAND is pouring a drink.)

Easy with that stuff- itll hit you suddenly.

YOLLAND: I like it.

OWEN: Lets get back to the job. Druim Dubh- whats it called in the jury lists? (Consults texts.)

YOLLAND: Some people here resent us.

OWEN: Dramduff- wrong as usual.

YOLLAND: I was passing a little girl yesterday and she spat at me.

OWEN: And its Drimdoo here. Whats it called in the registry?

YOLLAND: Do you know the Donnelly twins?

OWEN: Who?

YOLLAND: The Donnelly twins.

OWEN: Yes. Best fishermen about here. What about them?

YOLLAND: Lanceys looking for them.

OWEN: What for?

YOLLAND: He wants them for questioning.

OWEN: Probably stolen somebodys nets. Dramduffy! Nobody ever called it Dramduffy. Take your pick of those three.

YOLLAND: My heads addled. Lets take a rest. Do you want a drink?

OWEN: Thanks. Now, every Dubh weve come across weve changed to Duff. So if were to be consistent, I suppose Druim Dubh has to become Dromduff.

(YOLLAND is now looking out the window.)

You can see the end of the ridge from where youre standing. But D-r-u-m or D-r-o-m? (Name-Book) Do you remember- which did we agree on for Druim Luachra?

YOLLAND: That house immediately above where were camped-

OWEN: Mm?

YOLLAND: The house where Maire lives.

OWEN: Maire? Oh, Maire Chatach.

YOLLAND: What does that mean?

OWEN: Curly-haired; the whole family are called the Catachs. What about it?

YOLLAND: I hear music coming from that house almost every night.

OWEN: Why dont you drop in?

YOLLAND: Could I?

OWEN: Why not? We used D-r-o-m then. So weve got to call it D-r-o-m-d-u-f-f alright?

YOLLAND: Go back up to where the new school is being built and just say the names again for me, would you?

OWEN: Thats a good idea. Poolkerry, Ballybeg-

YOLLAND: No, no; as they still are- in your own language.

OWEN: Poll na gCaorach,

(YOLLAND repeats the names silently after him.)

Baile Beag, Ceann Balor, Lis Maol, Machaire Buidhe, Baile na nGall, Carraig na Ri, Mullach Dearg-

YOLLAND: Do you think I could live here?

OWEN: What are you talking about?

YOLLAND: Settle down here- live here.

OWEN: Come on, George.

YOLLAND: I mean it.

OWEN: Live on what? Potatoes? Buttermilk?

YOLLAND: Its really heavenly.

OWEN: For Gods sake! The first hot summer in fifty years and you think its Eden. Dont be such a bloody romantic. You wouldnt survive a mild winter here.

YOLLAND: Do you think not? Maybe youre right.

(DOALTY enters in a rush.)

DOALTY: Hi, boys, is Manus about?

OWEN: Hes upstairs. Give him a shout.

DOALTY: Manus!

The cattles going mad in that heat- Cripes, running wild all over the place.

(To YOLLAND.) How are you doing, skipper?

(MANUS appears.)

YOLLAND: Thank you for- I-Im very grateful to you for-

DOALTY: Wasting your time. I dont know a word youre saying. Hi, Manus, theres two bucks down the road there asking for you.

MANUS: (Descending) Who are they?

DOALTY: Never clapped eyes on them. They want to talk to you.

MANUS: What about?

DOALTY: They wouldnt say. Come on. The bloody beastsll end up in Loch an Iubhair if theyre not capped. Good luck, boys!

(DOALTY rushes off. MANUS follows him.)

OWEN: Good luck! What were you thanking Doalty for?

YOLLAND: I was washing outside my tent this morning and he was passing with a scythe across his shoulder and he came up to me and pointed to the long grass and then cut a pathway round my tent and from the tent down to the road so that my feet wont get wet with the dew. Wasnt that kind of him? And I have no words to thank him. I suppose youre right: I suppose I couldnt live here. Just before Doalty came up to me this morning, I was thinking that at that moment I might have been in Bombay instead of Ballybeg. You see, my father was at his wits end with me and finally he got me a job with the East India Company- some kind of clerkship. This was ten, eleven months ago. So I set off for London. Unfortunately I-I-I missed the boat. Literally. And since I couldnt face  Father and hadnt enough money to hang about until the next sailing, I joined the Army. And they stuck me into the Engineers and posted me to Dublin. And Dublin sent me here. And while I was washing this morning and looking across the Tra Bhan, I was thinking how very, very lucky I am to be here and not in Bombay.

OWEN: Do you believe in fate?

YOLLAND: Lanceys so like my father. I was watching him last night. He met every group of sappers as they reported in. He checked the field kitchens. He examined the horses. He inspected every single report- even examining the texture of the paper and commenting on the neatness of the handwriting. The perfect colonial servant: not only must the job be done- it must be done with excellence. Father has that drive, too; that dedication; that indefatigable energy. He builds roads- hopping from one end of the Empire to the other. Cant sit still for five minutes. He says himself the longest time he ever sat still was the night before Waterloo when they were waiting for Wellington to make up his mind to attack.

OWEN: What age is he?

YOLLAND: Born in 1789- the very day the Bastille fell. Ive often thought maybe that gave his whole life its character. Do you think it could? He inherited a new world the day he was born- the Year One. Ancient time was at an end. The world had cast off its old skin. There were no longer any frontiers to mans potential. Possibilities were endless and exciting. He still believes that. The Apocalypse is just about to happenIm afraid Im a great disappointment to him. Ive neither his energy, nor his coherence, nor his belief. Do I believe in Fate? The day I arrived in Ballybeg, - no, Baile Beag- the moment you brought me in here, I had a curious sensation. Its difficult to describe. It was a momentary sense of discovery; no not quite a sense of discovery-a sense of recognition, of confirmation of something I half knew instinctively; as if I had stepped

OWEN: Back into ancient time?

YOLLAND: No, no. It wasnt an awareness of direction being changed but of experience being of a totally different order. I had moved into a consciousness that wasnt striving nor agitated, but at its ease and with its own conviction and assurance. And when I heard Jimmy Jack and your father swopping stories about Apollo and Cuchulainn and Paris and Ferdia- as if they lived down the road- it was then that I thought I knew- perhaps I could live here(Now embarrassed.) Wheres the pot-een?

OWEN: Poteen.

YOLLAND: Poteen- poteen- poteen. Even if I did speak Irish Id always be an outsider here, wouldnt I? I may learn the password but the language of the tribe will always elude me, wont it? The private core will always be .hermetic, wont it?

OWEN: You can learn to decode us.

(HUGH emerges from upstairs and descends. He is dressed for the road. Today he is physically and mentally jaunty and alert- almost self-consciously jaunty and alert. Indeed, as the scene progresses, one has the sense that he is deliberately parodying himself.

The moment HUGH gets to the bottom of the steps YOLLAND leaps respectfully to his feet.)

HUGH: (As he descends)

Quantumvis cursum longum fessumque moratur

Sol, sacro tandem carmine vesper adest.

I dabble in verse, Lieutenant, after the style of Ovid.

(To OWEN.) A drop of that to fortify me.

YOLLAND: Youll have to translate it for me.

HUGH: Lets see-

No matter how long the sun may linger on his long and weary

Journey

At length evening comes with its sacred song.

YOLLAND: Very nice, sir.

HUGH: English succeeds in making it sound.plebeian.

OWEN: Where are you off to, Father?

HUGH: An expeditio with three purposes. Purpose A: to acquire a testimonial from our parish priest- (To YOLLAND) a worthy man but barely literate; and since hell ask me to write it myself, how in all modesty can I do myself justice?

(To OWEN.) Where did this (Drink) come from?

OWEN: Anna na mBreags.

HUGH: (To YOLLAND) In that case address yourself to it with circumspection.

(And HUGH instantly tosses the drink back in one gulp and grimaces.)

Aaaaagh!

(Holds out his glass for a refill.)

Anna na mBreag means Anna of the Lies. And Purpose B: to talk to the builders of the new school about the kind of living accommodation I will require there. I have lived too long like a journeyman tailor.

YOLLAND: Some years again we lived fairly close to a poet- well, about three miles away.

HUGH: His name?

YOLLAND: Wordsworth- William Wordsworth.

HUGH: Did he speak of me to you?

YOLLAND: Actually I never talked to him. I just saw him out walking in the distance.

HUGH: Wordsworth?no. Im afraid  were not familiar with your literature, Lieutenant. We feel closer to the warm Mediterranean. We tend to overlook your island.

YOLLAND: Im learning to speak Irish, sir.

HUGH: Good.

YOLLAND: Rolands teaching me.

HUGH: Splendid.

YOLLAND: I mean- I feel so cut off from the people here. And I was trying to explain a few minutes ago how remarkable a community this is. To meet people like yourself and Jimmy Jack who actually converse in Greek and Latin. And your place names- what was the one we came across this morning?- Termon, from Terminus, the god of boundaries. It- it- its really astonishing.

HUGH: We like to think we endure around truths immemorially posited.

YOLLAND: And your Gaelic literature- youre a poet yourself-

HUGH: Only in Latin, Im afraid.

YOLLAND: I understand its enormously rich and ornate.

HUGH: Indeed, Lieutenant. A rich language. A rich literature. Youll find, sir, that certain cultures expend on their vocabularies and syntax acquisitive energies and ostentations entirely lacking in their material lives. I suppose you could call us a spiritual people.

OWEN: (Not unkindly; more out of embarrassment before YOLLAND.) Will you stop that nonsense, Father.

HUGH: Nonsense? What nonsense?

OWEN: Do you know where the priest lives?

HUGH: At Lisa naMuc, over near.

OWEN: No, he doesnt. Lisa na Muc, the Fort of the Pigs, has become Swinefort. (Now turning the pages of the Name-Book- a page per name.) And to get to Swinefort you pass through Greencastle and Fair Head and Strandhill and Gort and Whiteplains. And the new school isnt at Poll na gCaorach- its at Sheepsrock. Will you be able to find your way?

(HUGH pours himself another drink. Then.)

HUGH: Yes, it is a rich language, Lieutenant, full of the mythologies of fantasy and hope and self-deception- a syntax opulent with tomorrows. It is our response to mud cabins and a diet of potatoes; our only method of replying toinevitabilities.

(To OWEN.) Can you give me the loan of half-a-crown? Ill repay you out of the subscriptions Im collecting for the publication of my new book. (To YOLLAND.) It is entitled: The Pentaglot Preceptor or Elementary Institute of the English, Greek, Hebrew, Latin and Irish Languages; Particularly Calculated for the Instruction of Such Ladies and Gentlemen as may Wish to Learn without the Help of a Master.

YOLLAND: (Laughs) Thats a wonderful title!

HUGH: Between ourselves- the best part of the enterprise. Nor do I, in fact, speak Hebrew. And that last phrase- without the Help of a Master- that was written before the new national school was thrust upon me- do you think I ought to drop it now? After all you dont dispose of the cow just because it has produced a magnificent calf, do you?

YOLLAND: You certainly do not.

HUGH: The phrase goes. And Im interrupting work of moment. (He goes to the door and stops there.)

To return briefly to that other matter, Lieutenant. I understand your sense of exclusion, of being cut off from a life here; and I trust you will find access to us with my sons help. But remember that words are signals, counters. They are not immortal. And it can happen- to use an image youll understand- it can happen that a civilisation can be imprisoned in a linguistic contour which no longer matches the landscape offact.

Gentlemen. (He leaves.)

OWEN: An expeditio with three purposes: the children laugh at him: he always promises three points and he never gets beyond A and B.

YOLLAND: He is an astute man.

OWEN: Hes bloody pompous.

YOLLAND: But so astute.

OWEN: And he drinks too much. Is it astute not to be able to adjust for survival? Enduring around truths immemorially posited- hah!

YOLLAND: He knows whats happening.

OWEN: What is happening?

YOLLAND: Im not sure. But Im concerned about my part in it. Its an eviction of sorts.

OWEN: Were making a six-inch map of the country. Is there something sinister in that?

YOLLAND: Not in

OWEN: And were taking place-names that are riddled with confusion and

YOLLAND: Whos confused? Are the people confused?

OWEN: .and were standardising those names as accurately and as sensitively as we can.

YOLLAND: Something is being eroded.

SCENE TWO

The following night.

This scene may be played in the schoolroom, but it would be preferable to lose- by lighting- as much of the schoolroom as possible, and to play the scene down front in a vaguely outside area.

The music rises to a crescendo. Then in the distance we hear MAIRE and YOLLAND approach- laughing and running. They run on, hand-in-hand. They have just left the dance.

Fade the music to distant background. Then after a time it is lost and replaced by guitar music.

MAIRE and YOLLAND are now down front, still holding hands and excited by their sudden and impetuous escape from the dance.

MAIRE: O my God, that leap across the ditch nearly killed me.

YOLLAND: I could scarcely keep up with you.

MAIRE: Wait till I get my breath back.

YOLLAND: We must have looked as if we were being chased.

(They now realise they are alone and holding hands- the beginnings of embarrasment. The hands disengage. They begin to drift apart. Pause.)

MAIRE: Manusll wonder where Ive got to.

YOLLAND: I wonder did anyone notice us leave.

(Pause. Slightly further apart.)

MAIRE: The grass must be wet. My feet are soaking.

YOLLAND: Your feet must be wet. The grass is soaking.

(Another pause. Another few paces apart. They are now a long distance from one another.)

YOLLAND: (Indicating himself) George.

(MAIRE nods: Yes-yes. Then)

MAIRE: Lieutenant George.

YOLLAND: Dont call me that. I never think of myself as Lieutenant.

MAIRE: What- what?

YOLLAND: Sorry- sorry? (He points to himself again.) George.

(MAIRE nods: Yes-yes. Then points to herself.)

MAIRE: Maire.

YOLLAND:Yes, I know youre Maire. Of course I know youre Maire. I mean Ive been watching you night and day for the past

MAIRE: (Eagerly) What- what?

YOLLAND: (Points) Maire. (Points) George. (Points both) Maire and George.

(MAIRE nods: Yes-yes-yes.)

I-I-I-

MAIRE: Say anything at all. I love the sound of your speech.

YOLLAND: (Eagerly) Sorry- sorry?

(In acute frustration he looks around, hoping for some inspiration that will provide him with communicative means. Now he has a thought: he tries raising his voice and articulating in a staccato style and with equal and absurd emphasis on each word.)

Every morning- I- see- you- feeding- brown- hens- and- giving- meal- to- black- calf- (The futility of it.)- O my God.

(MAIRE smiles. She moves towards him. She will try to communicate in Latin.)

MAIRE: Tu es centurio in- in- in exercitu Britannico-

YOLLAND: Yes-yes? Go on- go on- say anything at all- I love the sound of your speech.

MAIRE: - et es in castris quae- quae- quae sunt in agro- (The futility of it.)- O my God.

(YOLLAND smiles. He moves towards her.

Now for her English words.) George- water.

YOLLAND: Water? Water! Oh yes- water- water- very good- water- good- good.

MAIRE: Fire.

YOLLAND: Fire- indeed- wonderful- fire, fire, fire- splendid- splendid!

MAAIRE: Ahah

YOLLAND: Yes? Go on.

MAIRE: Earth.

YOLLAND: Earth?

MAIRE: Earth. Earth.

(YOLLAND still does not understand. MAIRE stoops down and picks up a handful of clay. Holding it out)

Earth.

YOLLAND: Earth! Of course- earth! Earth. Earth. Good Lord, Maire, your English is perfect!

MAIRE: (Eagerly) What- what?

YOLLAND: Perfect English. English perfect.

MAIRE: George-

YOLLAND: Thats beautiful- oh thats really beautiful.

MAIRE: George-

YOLLAND: Say it again- say it again-

MAIRE: Shhh. (She holds her hand up for silence- she is trying to remember her one line of English. Now she remembers it and she delivers the line as if English were her language- easily, fluidly, conversationally.)

George, in Norfolk we besport ourselves around the maypoll.

YOLLAND: Good God, do you? Thats where my mother comes from- Norfolk. Norwich actually. Not exactly Norwich town but a small village Little Walsingham close beside it. But in our own village of Winfarthing we have a maypole too and every year on the first of May- (He stops abruptly, only now realising. He stares at her. She in turn misunderstands his excitement.)

MAIRE: (To herself) Mother of God, my Aunt Mary wouldnt have taught me something dirty, would she?

(Pause.

YOLLAND extends his hand to MAIRE. She turns away from him and moves slowly across the stage.)

YOLLAND: Maire.

(She still moves away.)

YOLLAND: Maire Chatach.

(She still moves away.)

YOLLAND: Bun na hAbhann? (He says the name softly, almost privately, very tentatively, as if he were searching for a sound she might respond to. He tries again.) Druim Dubh?

(MAIRE stops. She is listening. YOLLAND is encouraged.)

Poll na gCaorach. Lis Maol.

(MAIRE turns towards him.)

Lis na nGall.

MAIRE: Lis na nGradh.

(They are now facing each other and begin moving- almost imperceptibly- towards one another.)

MAIRE: Carraig an Phoill.

YOLLAND: Carraig na Ri. Loch na nEan.

MAAIRE: Loch an Iubhair. Machaire Buidhe.

YOLLAND: Machaire Mor. Cnoc na Mona.

MAIRE: Cnoc na nGabhar.

YOLLAND: Mullach.

MAIRE: Port.

YOLLAND: Tor.

MAIRE: Lag. (She holds out her hands to YOLLAND. He takes them. Each now speaks almost to himself/herself.)

YOLLAND: I wish to God you could understand me.

MAIRE: Soft hands; a gentlemans hands.

YOLLAND: Because if you could understand me I could tell you how I spend my days either thinking of you or gazing up at your house in the hope that youll appear even for a second.

MAIRE: Every evening you walk by yourself along the Tra Bhan and every morning you wash yourself in front of your tent.

YOLLAND: I would tell you how beautiful you are, curly-headed Maire. I would so like to tell you how beautiful you are.

MAIRE: Your arms are long and thin and the skin on your shoulders is very white.

YOLLAND: I would tell you.

MAIRE: Dont stop- I know what youre saying.

YOLLAND: I would tell you how I want to be here- to live here- always- with you- always, always.

MAIRE: Always? What is that word- always?

YOLLAND: Yes-yes; always.

MAIRE: Youre trembling.

YOLLAND: Yes, Im trembling because of you.

MAIRE: Im trembling, too. (She holds his face in her hand.)

YOLLAND: Ive made up my mind

MAIRE: Shhh.

YOLLAND: Im not going to leave here.

MAIRE: Shhh- listen to me. I want you, too, soldier.

YOLLAND: Dont stop- I know what youre saying.

MAIRE: I want to live with you- anywhere- anywhere at all- always- always.

YOLLAND: Always? What is that word- always?

MAIRE: Take me away with you, George.

(Pause. Suddenly they kiss. SARAH enters. She sees them. She stands shocked, staring at them. Her mouth works. Then almost to herself.)

SARAH: Manus.Manus!

(SARAH runs off. Music to crescendo.)

ACT THREE

HUGH watches all of this. Then he produces his flask and is about to pour a drink when he sees the Name-Book on the floor. He picks it up and leafs through it, pronouncing the strange names as he does. Just as he begins, OWEN emerges and descends with two bowls of tea.)

HUGH: Ballybeg. Burnfoot. Kings Head. Whiteplains. Fair Hill. Dunboy. Green Bank.

(OWEN snatches the book from HUGH.)

OWEN: Ill take that. (In apology.) Its only a catalogue of names.

HUGH: I know what it is.

OWEN: A mistake- my mistake- nothing to do with us. I hope thats strong enough. (Tea)

(He throws the book on the table and crosses over to JIMMY.)

Jimmy. Wake up, Jimmy. Wake up, man.

JIMMY: What- what- what?

OWEN: Here. Drink this. They go on away home. There may be trouble. Do you hear me, Jimmy? There may be trouble.

HUGH: (Indicating Name-Book) We  must learn those new names.

OWEN: (Searching around) Did you see a sack lying about?

HUGH: We must learn where we live. We must learn to make them our own. We must make them our new home.

(OWEN finds a sack and throws it across his shoulders.)

OWEN: I know where I live.

HUGH: James thinks he knows, too. I look at James and three thoughts occur to me: A- that it is not the literal past, the facts of history, that shape us, but images of the past embodied in language. James has ceased to make that discrimination.

OWEN: Dont lecture me, Father.

HUGH: B- we must never cease renewing those images; because once we do, we fossilise. Is there no soda bread?

OWEN: And C, Father- one single, unalterable fact: if Yolland is not found, we are all going to be evicted. Lancey has issued the order.

HUGH: Ah. Edictum imperatoris.

OWEN: You should change out of those wet clothes. Ive got to go. Ive got to see Doalty Dan Doalty.

HUGH: What about?

OWEN: Ill be back soon.

(As OWEN exits.)

HUGH: Take care, Owen. To remember everything is a form of madness.

(He looks around the room, carefully, as if he were about to leave it forever. Then he looks at JIMMY, asleep again.)

The road to Sligo. A spring morning. 1798. Going into battle. Do you remember, James? Two young gallants with pikes across their shoulders and the Aeneid in their pockets. Everything seemed to find definition that spring- a congruence, a miraculous matching of hope and past and present and possibility. Striding across the fresh, green land. The rhythms of perception heightened. The whole enterprise of consciousness accelerated. We were gods that morning, James; and I had recently married my goddess, Caitlin Dubh Nic Reactainn, may she rest in peace. And to leave her and my infant son in his cradle- that was heroic, too. By God, sir, we were magnificent. We marched as far as- where was it?- Glenties! All of twenty-three miles in one day. And it was there, in Phelans pub, that we got homesick for Athens, just like Ulysses. The desiderium nostrorum- the need for our own. Our pietas, James, was for older, quieter things. And that was the longest twenty-three miles back I ever made. (Toasts JIMMY.) My friend, confusion is not an ignoble condition.

(MAIRE enters.)

MAIRE: Im back again. I set out for somewhere but I couldnt remember where. So I came back here.

HUGH: Yes, I will teach you English, Maire Chatach.

MAIRE: Will you, Master? I must learn it. I need to learn it.

HUGH: Indeed you may well be my only pupil. (He goes towards the steps and begins to ascend.)

MAIRE: When can we start?

HUGH: Not today. Tomorrow, perhaps. After the funeral. Well begin tomorrow. (Ascending) But dont expect too much. I will provide you with the available words and the available grammar. But will that help you to interpret between privacies? I have no idea. But its all we have. I have no idea at all. (He is now at the top.)

MAIRE: Master, what does the English word always mean?

HUGH: Semper- per omnia saecula. The Greeks called it aei. Its not a word Id start with. Its a silly word, girl. (He sits.)

(JIMMY is awake. He gets to his feet.

MAIRE sees the Name-Book, picks it up, and sits with it on her knee.)

MAIRE: When he comes back, this is where hell come to. He told me this is where he was happiest.

(JIMMY sits beside MAIRE.)

JIMMY: Do you know the Greek word endogamein? It means to marry within the tribe. And the word exogamein means to marry outside the tribe. And you dont cross those borders casually- both sides get very angry. Now, the problem is this: Is Athene sufficiently mortal or am I sufficiently godlike for the marriage to be acceptable to her people and to my people? You think about that.

HUGH: Urbs antiqua fuit- there was an ancient city which, tis said, Juno loved above all the lands. And it was the goddesss aim and cherished hope that here should be the capital of all nations- should the fates perchance allow that. Yet in truth she discovered that a race was springing from Trojan blood to overthrow some day these Tyrian towers- a people late regem belloque superbum- kings of broad realms and proud in war who could come forth for Lybias downfall- such was- such was the course- such was the course ordained- ordained by fate. What the hells wrong with me? Sure I know it backways. Ill begin again. Urbs antiqua fuit- there was an ancient city which, tis said, Juno loved above all the lands.

(Begin to bring down the lights.)

And it was the goddesss aim and cherished hope that here should be the capital of all nations- should the fates perchance allow that. Yet in truth she discovered that a race was springing from Trojan blood to overthrow some days these Tyrian towers- a people kings of broad realms and proud in war who would come forth for Lybias downfall..

(Black)