Read The Plough and the Stars Online
Authors: Sean O'Casey
Th’ golden-rob’d daffodils shone, Nora,
An’ danc’d in th’ breeze on th’ lea,
When I first said I lov’d only you, Nora,
An’ you said you lov’d only me!
Th’ trees, birds, an’ bees sang a song, Nora,
Of happier transports to be,
When I first said I lov’d only you, Nora,
An’ you said you lov’d only me!
Nora kisses him. A knock is heard at the door, right; a pause as they listen. Nora clings closely to Clitheroe. Another knock, more imperative than the first.
I wonder who can that be, now?
Nora
(
a little nervous
) Take no notice of it, Jack; they’ll go away in a minute.
Another knock, followed by a voice.
Voice
Commandant Clitheroe, Commandant Clitheroe, are you there? A message from General Jim Connolly.
Clitheroe
Damn it, it’s Captain Brennan.
Nora
(
anxiously
) Don’t mind him, don’t mind, Jack. Don’t break our happiness … Pretend we’re not in. Let us forget everything tonight but our two selves!
Clitheroe
(
reassuringly
) Don’t be alarmed, darling; I’ll just see what he wants, an’ send him about his business.
Nora
(
tremulously
) No, no. Please, Jack; don’t open it. Please, for your own little Nora’s sake!
Clitheroe
(
rising to open the door
) Now don’t be silly, Nora.
Clitheroe opens door, and admits a young man in the full uniform of the Irish Citizen Army – green suit; slouch green hat caught up at one side by a small Red Hand badge; Sam Browne belt, with a revolver in the holster. He carries a letter in his hand. When he comes in he smartly salutes Clitheroe. The young man is Captain Brennan.
Capt. Brennan
(
giving the letter to Clitheroe
) A dispatch from General Connolly.
While Clitheroe reads out the letter Brennan’s eyes are fixed on Nora, who droops as she sits on the lounge.
Clitheroe
(
reading
) ‘Commandant Clitheroe is to take command of the eighth battalion of the ICA which will assemble to proceed to the meeting at nine o’clock. He is to see that all units are provided with full equipment; two days’ rations and fifty rounds of ammunition. At two o’clock a.m. the army will leave Liberty Hall for a reconnaissance attack on Dublin Castle. – Com.-Gen. Connolly.’ I don’t understand this. Why does General Connolly call me Commandant?
Capt. Brennan
Th’ Staff appointed you Commandant, and th’ General agreed with their selection.
Clitheroe
When did this happen?
Capt. Brennan
A fortnight ago.
Clitheroe
How is it word was never sent to me?
Capt. Brennan
Word was sent to you … I meself brought it.
Clitheroe
Who did you give it to, then?
Capt. Brennan
(
after a pause
) I think I gave it to Mrs Clitheroe, there.
Clitheroe
Nora, d’ye hear that?
Nora makes no answer.
(
There is a note of hardness in his voice.
) Nora … Captain Brennan says he brought a letter to me from General Connolly, and that he gave it to you … Where is it? What did you do with it?
Nora
(
running over to him, and pleadingly putting her arms around him
) Jack, please, Jack, don’t go out tonight an’ I’ll tell you; I’ll explain everything … Send him away, an’ stay with your own little red-lipp’d Nora.
Clitheroe
(
removing her arms from around him
) None o’ this nonsense, now; I want to know what you did with th’ letter.
Nora goes slowly to the lounge and sits down.
(
Angrily
) Why didn’t you give me th’ letter? What did you do with it? … (
He shakes her by the shoulder
.) What did you do with th’ letter?
Nora
(
flaming up
) I burned it, I burned it! That’s what I did with it! Is General Connolly an’ th’ Citizen Army goin’ to be your only care? Is your home goin’ to be only a place to rest in? Am I goin’ to be only somethin’ to provide merry-makin’ at night for you? Your vanity’ll be th’ ruin of you an’ me yet … That’s what’s movin’ you: because they’ve made an officer of you, you’ll make a glorious cause of what you’re doin’, while your little red-lipp’d Nora can go on sittin’ here, makin’ a companion of th’ loneliness of th’ night!
Clitheroe
(
fiercely
) You burned it, did you? (
He grips her arm
.) Well, me good lady –
Nora
Let go – you’re hurtin’ me!
Clitheroe
You deserve to be hurt … Any letter that comes to me for th’ future, take care that I get it … D’ye hear – take care that I get it!
He goes to the chest of drawers and takes out a Sam Browne belt, which he puts on, and then puts a revolver in the holster. He puts on his hat, and looks towards Nora. While this dialogue is proceeding, and while Clitheroe prepares himself, Brennan softly whistles ‘The Soldiers’ Song’.
(
At door, about to go out
) You needn’t wait up for me; if I’m in at all, it won’t be before six in th’ morning.
Nora
(
bitterly
) I don’t care if you never come back!
Clitheroe
(
to Capt. Brennan
) Come along, Ned.
They go out. There is a pause. Nora pulls the new hat from her head and with a bitter movement flings it to the other end of the room. There is a gentle knock at door, right, which opens, and Mollser comes into the room. She is about fifteen, but looks to be only about ten, for the ravages of consumption have shrivelled her up. She is pitifully worn, walks feebly, and frequently coughs. She goes over to Nora.
Mollser
(
to Nora
) Mother’s gone to th’ meetin’, an’ I was feelin’ terrible lonely, so I come down to see if you’d let me sit with you, thinkin’ you mightn’t be goin’ yourself … I do be terrible afraid I’ll die sometime when I’m be meself … I often envy you, Mrs Clitheroe, seein’ th’ health you have, an’ th’ lovely place you have here, an’ wondherin’ if I’ll ever be sthrong enough to be keepin’ a home together for a man. Oh, this must be some more o’ the Dublin Fusiliers flyin’ off to the front.
Just before Mollser ceases to speak, there is heard in the distance the music of a brass band playing a regiment to the boat on the way to the front. The tune that is being played is ‘It’s a Long Way to Tipperary’; as the band comes to the chorus, the regiment is swinging into the street by Nora’s house, and the voices of the soldiers can be heard lustily singing the chorus of the song.
Soldiers
(
off
)
It’s a long way to Tipperary, it’s a long way to go;
It’s a long way to Tipperary, to th’ sweetest girl I know!
Goodbye Piccadilly, farewell Leicester Square.
It’s a long, long way to Tipperary, but my heart’s right there!
Nora and Mollser remain silently listening. As the chorus ends and the music is faint in the distance again, Bessie Burgess appears at door, right, which Mollser has left open.
Bessie
(
speaking in towards the room
) There’s th’ men marchin’ out into th’ dhread dimness o’ danger, while th’ lice is crawlin’ about feedin’ on th’ fatness o’ the land! But yous’ll not escape from th’ arrow that flieth be night, or th’ sickness that wasteth be day … An’ ladyship an’ all, as some o’ them may be, they’ll be scattered abroad, like th’ dust in th’ darkness!
Bessie goes away; Nora steals over and quietly shuts the door. She comes back to the lounge and wearily throws herself on it beside Mollser.
Mollser
(
after a pause and a cough
) Is there anybody goin’, Mrs Clitheroe, with a titther o’ sense?
Curtain.
A commodious public-house at the corner of the street in which the meeting is being addressed from Platform No. 1. It is the south corner of the public-house that is visible to the audience. The counter, beginning at back about one-fourth of the width of the space shown, comes across two-thirds of the length of the stage, and, taking a circular sweep, passes out of sight to left. On the counter are beer-pulls, glasses, and a carafe. The other three-fourths of the back is occupied by a tall, wide, two-paned window. Beside this window at the right is a small, boxlike, panelled snug. Next to the snug is a double swing door, the entrance to that particular end of the house. Farther on is a shelf on which customers may rest their drinks. Underneath the windows is a cushioned seat. Behind the counter at back can be seen the shelves running the whole length of the counter. On these shelves can be seen the end (or the beginning) of rows of bottles. The Barman is seen wiping the part of the counter which is in view. Rosie is standing at the counter toying with what remains of a half of whiskey in a wineglass. She is a sturdy, well-shaped girl of twenty; pretty, and pert in manner. She is wearing a cream blouse, with an obviously suggestive glad neck; a grey tweed dress, brown stockings and shoes. The blouse and most of the dress are hidden by a black shawl. She has no hat, and in her hair is jauntily set a cheap, glittering, jewelled ornament. It is an hour later.
Barman
(
wiping counter
) Nothin’ much doin’ in your line tonight, Rosie?
Rosie
Curse o’ God on th’ haporth, hardly, Tom. There isn’t much notice taken of a pretty petticoat of a night like this … They’re all in a holy mood. Th’ solemn-lookin’ dials on th’ whole o’ them an’ they marchin’ to th’ meetin’. You’d think they were th’ glorious company of th’ saints, an’ th’ noble army of martyrs thrampin’ through th’ sthreets of paradise. They’re all thinkin’ of higher things than a girl’s garthers … It’s a tremendous meetin’; four platforms they have – there’s one o’ them just outside opposite th’ window.
Barman
Oh, ay; sure when th’ speaker comes (
motioning with his hand
) to th’ near end, here, you can see him plain, an’ hear nearly everythin’ he’s spoutin’ out of him.
Rosie
It’s no joke thryin’ to make up fifty-five shillin’s a week for your keep an’ laundhry, an’ then taxin’ you a quid for your own room if you bring home a friend for th’ night … If I could only put by a couple of quid for a swankier outfit, everythin’ in th’ garden ud look lovely –
Barman
Whisht, till we hear what he’s sayin’.
Through the window is silhouetted the figure of a tall man who is speaking to the crowd. The Barman and Rosie look out of the window and listen.
Voice of the Man
It is a glorious thing to see arms in the hands of Irishmen. We must accustom ourselves to the thought of arms, we must accustom ourselves to the sight of arms, we must accustom ourselves to the use of arms … Bloodshed is a cleansing and sanctifying thing, and the nation that regards it as the final horror has lost its manhood … There are many things more horrible than bloodshed, and slavery is one of them!
The figure moves away towards the right, and is lost to sight and hearing.
Rosie
It’s th’ sacred thruth, mind you, what that man’s afther sayin’.
Barman
If I was only a little younger, I’d be plungin’ mad into th’ middle of it!
Rosie
(
who is still looking out of the window
) Oh, here’s the two gems runnin’ over again for their oil!
Peter and Fluther enter tumultuously. They are hot, and full and hasty with the things they have seen and heard. Emotion is bubbling up in them, so that when they drink, and when they speak, they drink and speak with the fullness of emotional passion. Peter leads the way to the counter.
Peter
(
splutteringly to the Barman
) Two halves … (
To Fluther
) A meetin’ like this always makes me feel as if I could dhrink Loch Erinn dhry!
Fluther
You couldn’t feel any way else at a time like this when th’ spirit of a man is pulsin’ to be out fightin’ for th’ thruth with his feet thremblin’ on th’ way, maybe to th’ gallows, an’ his ears tinglin’ with th’ faint, far-away sound of burstin’ rifle-shots that’ll maybe whip th’ last little shock o’ life out of him that’s left lingerin’ in his body!
Peter
I felt a burnin’ lump in me throat when I heard th’ band playin’ ‘The Soldiers’ Song’, rememberin’ last hearin’ it marchin’ in military formation, with th’ people starin’ on both sides at us, carryin’ with us th’ pride an’ resolution o’ Dublin to th’ grave of Wolfe Tone.
Fluther
Get th’ Dublin men goin’ an’ they’ll go on full force for anything that’s thryin’ to bar them away from what they’re wantin’, where th’ slim thinkin’ counthry boyo ud limp away from th’ first faintest touch of compromisation!
Peter
(
hurriedly to the Barman
) Two more, Tom! … (
To Fluther
) Th’ memory of all th’ things that was done, an’ all th’ things that was suffered be th’ people, was boomin’ in me brain … Every nerve in me body was quiverin’ to do somethin’ desperate!
Fluther
Jammed as I was in th’ crowd, I listened to th’ speeches pattherin’ on th’ people’s head, like rain fallin’ on th’ corn; every derogatory thought went out o’ me mind, an’ I said to meself, ‘You can die now, Fluther, for you’ve seen th’ shadow-dhreams of th’ past leppin’ to life in th’ bodies of livin’ men that show, if we were without a titther o’ courage for centuries, we’re vice versa now!’ Looka here. (
He stretches out his arm under Peter’s face and rolls up his sleeve
.) The blood was BOILIN’ in me veins!
The silhouette of the tall figure again moves into the frame of the window speaking to the people.
Peter
(
unaware, in his enthusiasm, of the speaker’s appearance, to Fluther
) I was burnin’ to dhraw me sword, an’ wave an’ wave it over me –
Fluther
(
overwhelming Peter
) Will you stop your blatherin’ for a minute, man, an’ let us hear what he’s sayin’!
Voice of the Man
Comrade soldiers of the Irish Volunteers and of the Citizen Army, we rejoice in this terrible war. The old heart of the earth needed to be warmed with the red wine of the battlefields … Such august homage was never offered to God as this: the homage of millions of lives given gladly for love of country. And we must be ready to pour out the same red wine in the same glorious sacrifice, for without shedding of blood there is no redemption!
The figure moves out of sight and hearing.
Fluther
(
gulping down the drink that remains in his glass, and rushing out
) Come on, man; this is too good to be missed!
Peter finishes his drink less rapidly, and as he is going out wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he runs into the Covey coming in. He immediately erects his body like a young cock, and with his chin thrust forward, and a look of venomous dignity on his face, he marches out.
The Covey
(
at counter
) Give us a glass o’ malt, for God’s sake, till I stimulate meself from th’ shock o’ seein’ th’ sight that’s afther goin’ out!
Rosie
(
all business, coming over to the counter, and standing near the Covey
) Another one for me, Tommy; (
to the Barman
) th’ young gentleman’s ordherin’ it in th’ corner of his eye.
The Barman brings the drink for the Covey, and leaves it on the counter. Rosie whips it up.
Barman
Ay, houl’ on there, houl’ on there, Rosie!
Rosie
(
to the Barman
) What are you houldin’ on out o’ you for? Didn’t you hear th’ young gentleman say that he couldn’t refuse anything to a nice little bird? (
To the Covey
) Isn’t that right, Jiggs? (
The Covey says nothing
.) Didn’t I know, Tommy, it would be all right? It takes Rosie to size a young man up, an’ tell th’ thoughts that are thremblin’ in his mind. Isn’t that right, Jiggs?
The Covey stirs uneasily, moves a little farther away, and pulls his cap over his eyes.
(
Moving after him
) Great meetin’ that’s gettin’ held outside. Well, it’s up to us all, anyway, to fight for our freedom.
The Covey
(
to Barman
) Two more, please. (
To Rosie
) Freedom! What’s th’ use o’ freedom, if it’s not economic freedom?
Rosie
(
emphasizing with extended arm and moving finger
) I used them very words just before you come in. ‘A lot o’ thricksters,’ says I, ‘that wouldn’t know what freedom was if they got it from their mother.’ … (
To Barman
) Didn’t I, Tommy?
Barman
I disremember.
Rosie
No, you don’t disremember. Remember you said, yourself, it was all ‘only a flash in th’ pan’. Well, ‘flash in th’ pan, or no flash in th’ pan,’ says I, ‘they’re not goin’ to get Rosie Redmond,’ says I, ‘to fight for freedom that wouldn’t be worth winnin’ in a raffle!’
The Covey
There’s only one freedom for th’ workin’ man: conthrol o’ th’ means o’ production, rates of exchange, an’ th’ means of disthribution. (
Tapping Rosie on the shoulder
) Look here, comrade, I’ll leave here tomorrow night for you a copy of Jenersky’s
Thesis on the Origin, Development, an’ Consolidation of the Evolutionary Idea of the Proletariat.
Rosie
(
throwing off her shawl on to the counter, and showing an exemplified glad neck, which reveals a good deal of a white bosom
) If y’ass Rosie, it’s heartbreakin’ to see a young fella thinkin’ of anything, or admirin’ anything, but silk thransparent stockin’s showin’ off the shape of a little lassie’s legs!
The Covey, frightened, moves a little away.
(
Following on
) Out in th’ park in th’ shade of a warm summery evenin’, with your little darlin’ bridie to be, kissin’ an’ cuddlin’ (
she tries to put her arm around his neck
), kissin’ an’ cuddlin’, ay?
The Covey
(
frightened
) Ay, what are you doin’? None o’ that, now; none o’ that. I’ve something else to do besides shinannickin’ afther Judies!
He turns away, but Rosie follows, keeping face to face with him.
Rosie
Oh, little duckey, oh, shy little duckey! Never held a mot’s hand, an’ wouldn’t know how to tittle a little Judy! (
She clips him under the chin.)
Tittle him undher th’ chin, tittle him undher th’ chin!
The Covey
(
breaking away and running out
) Ay, go on, now; I don’t want to have any meddlin’ with a lassie like you!
Rosie
(
enraged
) Jasus, it’s in a monasthery some of us ought to be, spendin’ our holidays kneelin’ on our adorers, tellin’ our beads, an’ knockin’ hell out of our buzzums!
The Covey
(
outside
) Cuckoo-oo!
Peter and Fluther come in again, followed by Mrs Gogan, carrying a baby in her arms. They go over to the counter.
Peter
(
with plaintive anger
) It’s terrible that young Covey can’t let me pass without proddin’ at me! Did you hear him murmurin’ ‘cuckoo’ when we were passin’?
Fluther
(
irritably
) I wouldn’t be everlastin’ cockin’ me ear to every little whisper that was floatin’ around about me! It’s my rule never to lose me temper till it would be dethrimental to keep it. There’s nothin’ derogatory in th’ use o’ th’ word ‘cuckoo’, is there?
Peter
(
tearfully
) It’s not th’ word; it’s th’ way he says it: he never says it straight out, but murmurs it with curious quiverin’ ripples, like variations on a flute!
Fluther
Ah, what odds if he gave it with variations on a thrombone! (
To Mrs Gogan
) What’s yours goin’ to be, ma’am?
Mrs Gogan
BessieBessie Ah, a half o’ malt, Fluther.
Fluther
(
to Barman
) Three halves, Tommy.
The Barman brings the drinks.
Mrs Gogan
(
drinking
) The Foresthers’ is a gorgeous dhress! I don’t think I’ve seen nicer, mind you, in a pantomime … Th’ loveliest part of th’ dhress, I think, is th’ osthrichess plume … When yous are goin’ along, an’ I see them wavin’ an’ noddin’ an’ waggin’, I seem to be lookin’ at each of yous hangin’ at th’ end of a rope, your eyes bulgin’ an’ your legs twistin’ an’ jerkin’, gaspin’ an’ gaspin’ for breath while yous are thryin’ to die for Ireland!
Fluther
If any o’ them is hangin’ at the end of a rope, it won’t be for Ireland!
Peter
Are you goin’ to start th’ young Covey’s game o’ proddin’ an’ twartin’ a man? There’s not many that’s talkin’ can say that for twenty-five years he never missed a pilgrimage to Bodenstown!
Fluther
You’re always blowin’ about goin’ to Bodenstown. D’ye think no one but yourself ever went to Bodenstown?
Peter
(
plaintively
) I’m not blowin’ about it; but there’s not a year that I go there but I pluck a leaf off Tone’s grave, an’ this very day me prayer-book is nearly full of them.
Fluther
(
scornfully
) Then Fluther has a vice versa opinion of them that put ivy leaves into their prayer-books, scabbin’ it on th’ clergy, an’ thryin’ to out-do th’
haloes o’ th’ saints be lookin’ as if he was wearin’ around his head a glittherin’ aroree boree allis! (
Fiercely
) Sure, I don’t care a damn if you slep’ in Bodenstown! You can take your breakfast, dinner, an’ tea on th’ grave in Bodenstown, if you like, for Fluther!
Mrs Gogan
Oh, don’t start a fight, boys, for God’s sake; I was only sayin’ what a nice costume it is – nicer than th’ kilts, for, God forgive me, I always think th’ kilts is hardly decent.
Fluther
Ah, sure, when you’d look at him, you’d wondher whether th’ man was makin’ fun o’ th’ costume, or th’ costume was makin’ fun o’ th’ man!
Barman
Now, then, thry to speak asy, will yous? We don’t want no shoutin’ here.
The Covey, followed by Bessie Burgess, comes in. They go over to the opposite end of the counter, and direct their gaze on the other group.