Three Plays: The Fiddler's House, The Land, Thomas Muskerry. Padraic Colum

I thought your father liked me.

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

      MAIRE

       James?

      JAMES (turning to Maire) Well, Maire?

      MAIRE

       Is Anne a girl to be waiting twenty years for a man, like

       Sally Cassidy?

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

      JAMES

       She has what's better than a fortune.

      MAIRE

       Why aren't your sisters married off?

      JAMES

       Big fortunes are expected with them.

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

      JAMES

       Ay, they do that.

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

      JAMES

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

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

      JAMES

       I give in to the truth of that, Maire.

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

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

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

      JAMES

       Indeed that's true, Maire.

      Maire goes to back.

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

      JAMES

       I have a song in my head since last night.

      ANNE

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

      JAMES

       The next I make will be ten times better.

      Conn Hourican comes down.

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

      JAMES

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

       Mister Hourican?

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

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

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

      James and Anne go out,

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

      MAIRE

       No, I'm staying here.

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

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

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

      MAIRE

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

      CONN

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

      MAIRE

       I know that now.

      CONN

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

      MAIRE

       I'll never ask for your word again.

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

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

      CONN

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

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

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

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

      CONN

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

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

      CONN

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

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

      MAIRE

       That's foolishness.

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

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

      CONN

       It was Brian that brought me to Flynn's.

      MAIRE

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

      CONN

       It was.

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

      CONN

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

      MAIRE (with hardness) You must never go again.

      CONN

       And is a man to have no life to himself?

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

      CONN

       Foolish people, did you say?

      MAIRE Ay, foolish