by W. B. Yeats
CORNEY. One plain liar, six men bribed to lie.
ATTRACTA. Great Heme, Great Heme, Great Heme,
Your darling is crying out.
Great Heme, declare her pure,
Pure as that beak and claw,
Great Heme, Great Heme, Great Heme,
Let the round heaven declare it.
[Silence. Then low thunder growing louder. All except Attracta and Congal kneel.
JAMES. Great Heme, I swear that she is pure;
I never laid a hand upon her.
MATHIAS. I was a fool to believe myself
When everybody knows that I am a liar.
PAT. Even when it seemed that I covered her
I swear that I knew it was the drink.
ATTRACTA. I lay in the bride-bed,
His thunderbolts in my hand,
But gave them back, for he,
My lover, the Great Heme,
Knows everything that is said
And every man’s intent,
And every man’s deed; and he
Shall give these seven that say
That they upon me lay
A most memorable punishment.
[It thunders. All prostrate themselves except Attracta and Congal. Congal had half knelt, but he has stood up again.
ATTRACTA. I share his knowledge, and I know
Every punishment decreed.
He will come when you are dead,
Push you down a step or two
Into cat or rat or bat,
Into dog or wolf or goose.
Everybody in his new shape I can see,
But Congal there stands in a cloud
Because his fate is not yet settled.
Speak out, Great Heme, and make it known
That everything I have said is true.
[Thunder. All now, except Attracta, have prostrated themselves.
ATTRACTA. What has made you kneel?
CONGAL. — This man
That’s prostrate at my side would say,
Could he say anything at all,
That I am terrified by thunder.
ATTRACTA. Why did you stand up so long?
CONGAL. I held you in my arms last night,
We seven held you in our arms.
ATTRACTA. YOU were under the curse, in all
You did, in all you seemed to do.
CONGAL. If I must die at a fool’s hand,
When must I die?
ATTRACTA. — When the moon is full.
CONGAL. And where?
ATTRACTA. — Upon the holy mountain,
Upon Slieve Fuadh, there we meet again
Just as the moon comes round the hill.
There all the gods must visit me,
Acknowledging my marriage to a god;
One man will I have among the gods.
CONGAL. I know the place and I will come,
Although it be my death, I will come.
Because I am terrified, I will come.
SCENE VI
A mountain-top, the moon has just risen; the moon of comic tradition, a round smiling face. A cauldron lid, a cooking-pot, and a spit lie together at one side of the stage. The Fool, a man in ragged clothes, enters carrying a large stone; he lays it down at one side and goes out. Congal enters carrying a wine-skin, and stands at the other side of the stage. The Fool re-enters with a second large stone which he places beside the first.
CONGAL. What is your name, boy?
FOOL. — Poor Tom Fool.
Everybody knows Tom Fool.
CONGAL. I saw something in the mist,
There lower down upon the slope,
I went up close to it and saw
A donkey, somebody’s stray donkey.
A donkey and a Fool — I don’t like it at all.
FOOL. I won’t be Tom the Fool after to-night.
I have made a level patch out there,
Clearing away the stones, and there
I shall fight a man and kill a man
And get great glory.
CONGAL. — Where did you get
The cauldron lid, the pot and the spit?
FOOL. I sat in Widow Rooney’s kitchen,
Somebody said, ‘King Congal’s on the mountain
Cursed to die at the hands of a fool’.
Somebody else said ‘Kill him, Tom’.
And everybody began to laugh
And said I should kill him at the full moon,
And that is to-night.
CONGAL. — I too have heard
That Congal is to die to-night.
Take a drink.
FOOL. — I took this lid,
And all the women screamed at me.
I took the spit, and all screamed worse.
A shoulder of lamb stood ready for the roasting —
I put the pot upon my head.
They did not scream but stood and gaped.
[Fool arms himself with spit, cauldron lid and pot, whistling
‘The Great Heme’s Feather’.
CONGAL. Hush, for that is an unlucky tune.
And why must you kill Congal, Fool?
What harm has he done you?
FOOL. — None at all.
But there’s a Fool called Johnny from Meath,
We are great rivals and we hate each other,
But I can get the pennies if I kill Congal,
And Johnny nothing.
CONGAL. — I am King Congal,
And is not that a thing to laugh at, Fool?
FOOL. Very nice, O very nice indeed,
For I can kill you now, and I
Am tired of walking.
CONGAL. — Both need rest.
Another drink apiece — that is done —
Lead to the place you have cleared of stones.
FOOL. But where is your sword? You have not got a sword.
CONGAL. I lost it, or I never had it,
Or threw it at the strange donkey below,
But that’s no matter — I have hands.
[They go out at one side. Attracta, Corney and Donkey come in. Attracta sings.
ATTRACTA. When beak and claw their work began
What horror stirred in the roots of my hair?
Sang the bride of the Heme, and the Great Heme’s bride.
But who lay there in the cold dawn,
When all that terror had come and gone?
Was I the woman lying there?
[They go out. Congal and Tom the Fool come. Congal is carrying the cauldron lid, pot and spit. He lays them down.
CONGAL. I was sent to die at the hands of a Fool.
There must be another Fool on the mountain.
FOOL. That must be Johnny from Meath.
But that’s a thing I could not endure,
For Johnny would get all the pennies.
CONGAL. Here, take a drink and have no fear;
All’s plain at last; though I shall die
I shall not die at a Fool’s hand.
I have thought out a better plan.
I and the Heme have had three bouts,
He won the first, I won the second,
Six men and I possessed his wife.
FOOL. I ran after a woman once.
I had seen two donkeys in a field.
CONGAL. And did you get her, did you get her, Fool?
FOOL. I almost had my hand upon her.
She screamed, and somebody came and beat me.
Were you beaten?
CONGAL. — NO, no, Fool.
But she said that nobody had touched her,
And after that the thunder said the same,
Yet I had won that bout, and now
I know that I shall win the third.
FOOL. If Johnny from Meath comes, kill him!
CONGAL. Maybe I will, maybe I will not.
FOOL. You let me off, but don’t let him off.
CONGAL. I could not do you any harm,
For you and I are friends.
FOOL. — Kill Johnny!
CONGAL. Because you have asked me to, I will do it,
For you and I are friends.
FOOL. — Kill Johnny!
Kill with the spear, but give it to me
That I may see if it is sharp enough.
[Fool takes spit.
CONGAL. And is it, Fool?
FOOL. — I spent an hour
Sharpening it upon a stone.
Could I kill you now?
CONGAL. — Maybe you could.
FOOL. I will get all the pennies for myself.
[He wounds Congal. The wounding is symbolised by a movement of the spit towards or over Congal’s body.
CONGAL. It passed out of your mind for a moment
That we are friends, but that is natural.
FOOL [dropping spit]. I must see it, I never saw a wound.
CONGAL. The Heme has got the first blow in;
A scratch, a scratch, a mere nothing.
But had it been a little deeper and higher
It would have gone through the heart, and maybe
That would have left me better off,
For the Great Heme may beat me in the end.
Here I must sit through the full moon,
And he will send up Fools against me,
Meandering, roaring, yelling,
Whispering Fools, then chattering Fools,
And after that morose, melancholy,
Sluggish, fat, silent Fools;
And I, moon-crazed, moon-blind,
Fighting and wounded, wounded and fighting.
I never thought of such an end.
Never be a soldier, Tom;
Though it begins well, is this a life?
If this is a man’s life, is there any life
But a dog’s life?
FOOL. — That’s it, that’s it;
Many a time they have put a dog at me.
CONGAL. If I should give myself a wound,
Let life run away, I’d win the bout.
He said I must die at the hands of a Fool
And sent you hither. Give me that spit!
I put it in this crevice of the rock,
That I may fall upon the point.
These stones will keep it sticking upright.
[They arrange stones, he puts the spit in.
CONGAL [almost screaming in his excitement].
Fool! Am I myself a Fool?
For if I am a Fool, he wins the bout.
FOOL. YOU are King of Connaught. If you were a fool
They would have chased you with their dogs.
CONGAL. I am King Congal of Connaught and of Tara,
That wise, victorious, voluble, unlucky,
Blasphemous, famous, infamous man.
Fool, take this spit when red with blood,
Show it to the people and get all the pennies;
What does it matter what they think?
The Great Heme knows that I have won.
[He falls symbolically upon the spit. It does not touch him.
Fool takes the spit and wine-skin and goes out.
It seems that I am hard to kill,
But the wound is deep. Are you up there?
Your chosen kitchen spit has killed me,
But killed me at my own will, not yours.
Attracta and Corney enter.
ATTRACTA. Will the knot hold?
CORNEY. — There was a look
About the old highwayman’s eye of him
That warned me, so I made him fast
To that old stump among the rocks
With a great knot that he can neither
Break, nor pull apart with his teeth.
CONGAL. Attracta!
ATTRACTA. — I called you to this place,
You came, and now the story is finished.
CONGAL. YOU have great powers, even the thunder
Does whatever you bid it do.
Protect me, I have won my bout,
But I am afraid of what the Heme
May do with me when I am dead.
I am afraid that he may put me
Into the shape of a brute beast.
ATTRACTA. I will protect you if, as I think,
Your shape is not yet fixed upon.
CONGAL. I am slipping now, and you up there
With your long leg and your long beak.
But I have beaten you, Great Heme,
In spite of your kitchen spit — seven men —
[He dies.
ATTRACTA. Come lie with me upon the ground,
Come quickly into my arms, come quickly, come
Before his body has had time to cool.
CORNEY. What? Lie with you?
ATTRACTA. — Lie and beget,
If you are afraid of the Great Heme,
Put that away, for if I do his will,
You are his instrument or himself.
CORNEY. The thunder has me terrified.
ATTRACTA. I lay with the Great Heme, and he,
Being all a spirit, but begot
His image in the mirror of my spirit,
Being all sufficient to himself
Begot himself; but there’s a work
That should be done, and that work needs
No bird’s beak nor claw but a man,
The imperfection of a man.
[The sound of a donkey braying.
CORNEY. The donkey is braying.
He has some wickedness in his mind.
ATTRACTA. Too late, too late, he broke that knot,
And there, down there among the rocks
He couples with another donkey.
That donkey has conceived. I thought that I
Could give a human form to Congal,
But now he must be born a donkey.
CORNEY. King Congal must be born a donkey!
ATTRACTA. Because we were not quick enough.
CORNEY. I have heard that a donkey carries its young
Longer than any other beast,
Thirteen months it must carry it.
[He laughs.
All that trouble and nothing to show for it,
Nothing but just another donkey.
Curtain
PURGATORY
PERSONS IN THE PLAY
A Boy —
An Old Man
PURGATORY
A ruined house and a bare tree in the background.
BOY. Half door, hall door
Hither and thither, day and night,
Hill or hollow, shouldering this pack,
Hearing you talk.
OLD MAN. — Study that house.
I think about its jokes and stories;
I try to remember what the butler
Said to a drunken gamekeeper
In mid-October, but I cannot.
If I cannot, none living can.
Where are the jokes and stories of a house,
Its threshold gone to patch a pig-sty?
BOY. SO you have come this path before?
OLD MAN. The moonlight falls upon the path,
The shadow of a cloud upon the house
And that’s symbolical; study that tree,
What is it like?
BOY. — A silly old man.
OLD MAN. It’s like — no matter what it’s like.
I saw it a year ago stripped bare as now,
I saw it fifty years ago
Before the thunder-bolt had riven it,
Green leaves, ripe leaves, leaves thick as butter,
Fat greasy life. Stand there and look,
Because there is somebody in that house.
[The Boy puts down pack and stands in the doorway.
BOY. There’s nobody here.
OLD MAN. — There’s somebody there.
BOY. The floor is gone, the windows gone,
And where there should be roof there’s sky,
And here’s a bit of an egg-shell thrown
Out of a jackdaw’s nest.
OLD MAN. — But there are some
That do
not care what’s gone, what’s left,
The souls in Purgatory that come back
To habitations and familiar spots.
BOY. Your wits are out again.
OLD MAN. — Re-live
Their transgressions, and that not once
But many times; they know at last
The consequence of those transgressions
Whether upon others, or upon themselves;
Upon others, others may bring help
For when the consequence is at an end
The dream must end; upon themselves,
There is no help but in themselves
And in the mercy of God.
BOY. — I have had enough!
Talk to the jackdaws, if talk you must.
OLD MAN. Stop! Sit there upon that stone.
That is the house where I was born.
BOY. The big old house that was burnt down?
OLD MAN. My mother that was your grand-dam owned it,
This scenery and this countryside,
Kennel and stable, horse and hound —
She had a horse at the Curragh, and there met
My father, a groom in a training stable;
Looked at him and married him.
Her mother never spoke to her again,
And she did right.
BOY. — What’s right and wrong?
My grand-dad got the girl and the money.
OLD MAN. Looked at him and married him,
