Cathleen Ní Houlihan

A cottage in County Mayo: an old woman, with thin shoulders and a walking-stick, stands at the gate. The woman looks at it wistfully as she stands there; then she turns and looks toward the house. The gate is an iron one; there are little plots of ground before the house and a hedge behind them. A cart is seen at the side of the house. Presently there is heard the noise of winnowing; a young woman comes out of the house with her apron over her head, carrying a truss of straw.

MOTHER. (coming out). Whatever have you been doin' this long time? The house is ready for you an' the bed an' the fire an' the pot. An' sure it's the very look of you, the look in your eyes, makes me afeard to ask you for the story. MARY. (coming slowly). I was waitin' to see, mother. (To her mother.) Do you hear the winnowing? they are winnowing close by the barn. MOTHER. (with perplexity). You had better be helpin' to turn the sieve. There's no 'oman in the house to do it, an' there's work enough for us all. The prices are low—an' the men are at home since the other day's great fair. It's ten years since your father— MARY. (softly). Oh, do not be sayin' that to me. MOTHER. (growing angry). Ten years!—you have great news for me, I'm sure. Put on your shawl. There's a fine young man outside—Patrick. MARY. (more agitated). Patrick!—I'm not ready. He is not come yet. You will go out of the road with him and talk. MOTHER. (coaxing). Well, an' don't you be angry at your mother. It is not my fault if your hair's went white since last market-day. (She goes in.) MARY. (going to the hedge and looking off). The sun is bendin' to the west. The wheat is heavy; the cows are lowin' in the field. The sky is all one gold. (She hears a step. A young man, MICHAEL, of about twenty-six, comes in hurriedly. He is in a sailor's dress. He greets Mary and sits down.) MICHAEL. (taking off his cap). Hush! Are you alone? MARY. (motioning her mother not to come out). Yes—why do you look so serious? MICHAEL. Because I've been to 't. I have it in me as long as I live. MOTHER. (coming out quickly). Hush!—Don't you be bringin' words here. There's a neighbour comin' in the gate. (GILLANE, a neighbour, comes in.) GILLANE. (to Mother). It's a fine day for winnowing—are we goin' to have an open market? MOTHER. (distantly). We have no grain to sell. GILLANE. (laughing, to Michael). What brings you from the town so soft of foot?—you look like a man that's been bein' with the soldiers. MICHAEL. (quietly). I was in a ship, Mr. Gillane; we came home last night. GILLANE. (mocking). An' what brought you in so late, thin? Did you go to the fair? MICHAEL. I had not a penny, sir. GILLANE. (with suspicion). Not a penny!—sure you look as if you had been at the fair. (He looks at Mary.) An' you—(to Mary) you have the look o'—(He is interrupted.) MARY. (softly). Hush!—there's a woman at the gate. (All look and see THE OLD WOMAN still standing at the gate.) GILLANE. (going to the gate, mockingly). Who's there?—a beggar-woman, surely. OLD WOMAN. (in a high thin voice). Will ye give me shelter an' a bite? MICHAEL. (rising). Mother, do not cross to the gate. (He goes to the gate and takes off his cap.) God save ye, mother, are ye busy? OLD WOMAN. (smiling). I am always busy. I've been walking these twenty years an' I've nothing but my stick an' my two feet. MOTHER. (astonished). An' where are you from, mother? OLD WOMAN. (shaking her head). From every field an' from every house. From every bed that is left empty I come. MARY. (rising). Will you come in? (She takes off her apron and goes towards the door.) OLD WOMAN. No, child, I've the look o' a poor thing. I will sit here. I'm tired wid my walk. MICHAEL. (taking a stool). Sit here, mother. (He brings the stool.) OLD WOMAN. (sitting). I will take a little o' your bread. MOTHER. (bringing bread and milk). There—an' a good scrap. 'Tis little we have but it's as well. OLD WOMAN. (looking at Mary). An' who is that pretty little maid? MOTHER. (boasting). That is the child of Michael Gillane, an' she is to be married to a fine young fellow—Patrick. OLD WOMAN. (to Mary). Have you any men ever talk to you o' the country? MARY. (dreamily). What mean you?—the country is wide an' green an' there's no house but our own. OLD WOMAN. (low). There was a time when men went to the hill an' the green was full o' men. They went barefoot; they went with the shout. MOTHER. (breaking in). Oh, it's the talk the old ones have. Have ye not better go on with your winnowing? OLD WOMAN. (rising slowly). I will go now. (She moves away.) MARY. (eagerly). Will you not stay an' tell us a story?—an old story. OLD WOMAN. (stopping). There was a time I had more than one story. (She looks at them.) But I have a task to do now. (She points to a torn green cloak she wears.) This cloak was the colour o' the shamrock; it has but three patches an' one more patch will make it perfect. MOTHER. (laughing). Sure we could make you one up o' the hedge. OLD WOMAN. (earnestly). If any young man will take his mother's son from his wife an' follow me on the road, I will give him a year an' a day o' wanderin'—an' when he comes home he shall be a king. MICHAEL. (startled). What do you mean? OLD WOMAN. (with passion). I mean that I am Cathleen Ní Houlihan. (There is a silence. The family look at her with wonder.)

GILLANE. (sneering). Cathleen Ní Houlihan!—sure you would be jokin'. OLD WOMAN. (with dignity). I am not a joke. I was a young queen once. I had four green fields; I had a little path o' silver an' a river o' gold. They have taken the land off me. Men have fought under my roof and have been put out o' their homes. MICHAEL. (rising slowly). Mother—what is that you are sayin'? MOTHER. (in a frightened voice). Do not be bringin' such talk here. We have enough to do 'tendin' the cattle. OLD WOMAN. (to Michael). Young man, will you not come with me?—I will give you a new sword an' a green coat to wear. MICHAEL. (to Mary). Will you go with me to the fair an' buy a ribbon for my hat?—I am only goin' to see a man about a rope. MARY. (with a strange look). If you go, go to-night. There are men in the town talkin' of a rising. The priests have been speakin'—the French may come. MICHAEL. (suddenly encouraged). I'll be there!—I will take the cross o' my father and carry it in the day. OLD WOMAN. (glorifying). Little men who are like little birds have I seen; they have flown before me to the hills. But the man with a heart like a stone—they pass me by. MARY. (with fire). I will go with you—my hair shall be loose. MOTHER. (alarmed). Mary!—what are you sayin'?—you cannot go barefoot. MARY. (with decision). I will go with him as far as the hedge. (She runs to fetch her shoes.) MICHAEL. (kneeling to Mary). You will not have to go far, sweetheart. (He clasps her.) OLD WOMAN. (to Michael). If you pass by the bridge you will see a man leaning on the gate. He is a priest. He will tell you what to do. MICHAEL. (springing up). I'll be there to-night. I'll be the first. GILLANE. (angrily). You'll not go with that vagabond o' a woman. Who is she but a bit o' the old talk? (He would strike Michael.) OLD WOMAN. (raising her walking-stick). Who comes near her will hear the cry o' the mother in the night. (At that all the doors open and men and women look out; they see the old woman and listen.) MOTHER. (torn). Oh, Michael!—if you go you will never come back. MICHAEL. (passionately). Faith, but I'll be a man if I go!—I will fight for the land that is left. MARY. (throwing her arms about him). Then let me go too!—let me have a garment to put on. MICHAEL. (kissing her). There is a sword in the house. OLD WOMAN. (turning to the house). I'll have a young man for every patch of my cloak before morning. (She rustles, and a cry is heard as of trumpets.) (A drum is heard in the distance.)

MOTHER. (in fear). Hush!—do you hear that?—it's the soldiers' drum. GILLANE. (running). They'll be upon us in an hour. OLD WOMAN. (calmly). The town is awake. The women are runnin' to the hills. There will be a wreath on every gate. MICHAEL. (trampling about). I'll be the first of all. MARY. (hiding her face). Oh, Michael, don't leave me behind. MICHAEL. (taking off his coat). Take care o' the house—an' the mother—an' the cows. I will come back through the gate. OLD WOMAN. (with a strange light). When you go you will see me at the head of the procession; I will have a banner with a harp on it. MOTHER. (sobbing). God keep ye, Michael. (MICHAEL goes out through the gate. MARY follows. The OLD WOMAN stands alone in the gate. She pulls aside her cloak and the patches fall from it as if they were leaves; as she turns the green shines out anew and she is young and beautiful. There is a cry as of trumpets.) OLD WOMAN. (in a radiant voice). My poor people!—they have risen at last! (She goes slowly away up the road; the music grows and the drum beats louder. The curtain falls.)

A town in the middle of the play: the houses are garnished with green. Men pass with pikes; the drums beat. Cathleen Ní Houlihan appears in the procession crowned with flowers and carrying a sword on her shoulder. She stops and looks at the crowd. CATHLEEN. (to the people). My sons!—you have done well. For every year that you have waited I will give you an old song. We will go through the hollow hills and we will bring back the four fields. (A general cry from the people. The drums beat. A company march away. The play ends with the figure of Cathleen leading them.)