Chapter 7 NOTES

I found the story of the Countess Cathleen in what professed to be a collection of Irish folk?lore in an Irish newspaper some years ago. I wrote to the compiler, asking about its source, but got no answer, but have since heard that it was translated from Les Matin`ees de Timoth`e Trimm a good many years ago, and has been drifting about the Irish press ever since. L`eo Lesp`es gives it as an Irish story, and though the editor of Folklore has kindly advertised for information, the only Christian variant I know of is a Donegal tale, given by Mr. Larminie in his West Irish Folk Tales and Romances, of a woman who goes to hell for ten years to save her husband, and stays there another ten , having been granted permission to carry away as many souls as could cling to her skirt. L`eo Lesp`es may have added a few details, but I have no doubt of the essential antiquity of what seems to me the most impressive form of one of the supreme parables of the world. The parable came to the Greeks in the s acrifice of Alcestis, but her sacrifice was less overwhelming, less apparently irremediable. L`eo Lesp`es tells the story as follows:??

Ce que je vais vous dire est un r`ecit du car`eme Irelandais. Le boiteux, laveugle, le paralytique des rues de Dublin ou de Limerick, vous le diraient mieux que moi, cher lecteur, si vous alliez le leur demander, un sixpense dargent `a la main.? Il nest pas une jeune fille catholique `a laquelle on ne Fait appris pendant les jours de pr`separation `a la communion sainte, pas un berger des bords de la Blackwater qui ne le puisse redire `a la veill`ee. Il ya bien longtemps quil apparut tout? `a? coup dans la vielle Irlande deux marchands inconnus dont personne navait oui parler, et qui parlaient n`eanmoins avec la plus grande perfection la langue du pays. Leurs cheveux `etaient noirs et ferr`es avec de lor et leurs robes dune grande magnificence.

Tous deux semblaient avoir le m`eme age; ils paraissaient `etre des hommes de cinquante ans, car leur barbe grisormait un peu. Or, `a cette `epoque, comme aujourdhui, lIrlande `etait pauvre, car le soleil avait `et`e rare, et des r`ecoltes presque nulles. Les indicators ne savaient `a quel sainte se vouer, et la mis`ere devenai de plus en plus terrible. Dans lh`otellerie o`u descendirent les marchands fastueux on chercha `ap`en`etrer leurs desseins: mais cc fut en vain, ils demeur`erent silencieux et discrets. Et pendant quils demeur`erent dans lh`otellerie, ils ne cess`erent de compter et de recompter des sacs de pi`eces dor, dont la vive clart`e sapercevait `a travers les

vitres du logis. Gentlemen, leur dit lh`otesse un jour, do`u vient que vous `etes si opulents, et que, venus pour secourir la mis`ere publique, vous ne fassiez pas de bonnes oeuvres? ?Belle h`otesse, r`epondit lun deux, nous navons pas voulu aller au? devant dinfortunes honorables, dans la Crainte d`etre tromp`es par des mis`eres fictives: que la douleur frappe `a la porte, nous ouvrirons. Le lendemain, quand on sut quil existait deux opulents `etrangers pr`ets `a prodiguer lor, la foule assi`egea leur logis; mais les figures des gens qui en sortaient `etaient bien diverses. Les uns avaient la fiert`e dans le regard, les autres portaient la honte au front. Les deux

trafiquants achetaient des `ames pour le d`emon. L`ame dun vieillard valait vingt pi`eces dor, pas un penny de plus; car Satan avait eu le temps dy former hypoth`eque. L`ame dune `pouse en valait cinquante quand elle `etait jolie, ou cent quand elle `etait laide. L`Ame dune jeune fille se payait des prix fous: les fleurs les plus belles et les plus pures sont les plus ch`eres. Pendant ce temps, il existait dans la ville un ange de beaut`e, la comtesse Ketty OConnor. Elle `etait lidole du peuple, et la providence des indigents. D`es quelle eut appris que des m`ecr`eants profitaient de la mis`ere publique pour d`erober des coeurs `a Dieu, elle fit appeler son

major ome. Master Patrick, lui dit elle, combine ai?je de pi`eces dor dans mon coffre?? Cent mille.? Combien de bijoux?? Pour autant dargent.? Combien de ch`ateaux, de bois et de terres?? Pour le double de ces sommes.? Eh bien! Patrick, vendez tout cc qui nest pas or et apportez?men le montant. je ne veux garder `a moi que ce castel et le champs qui lentoure. ? Deux jours apr`es, les ordres de la pieuse Ketty `etaient ex`ecues et le tr`esor `etait distribu`e aux pauvres au fur et `a mesure de leurs besoins. Ceci ne faisait pas le compte, dit la tradition, des commisvoyageurs du malin esprit, qui ne trouvaient plus d`ames `a acheter.

Aides par un valet infame, ils p`en`etr`erent dans la retraite de la noble dame et lui d`erob`erent le reste de son tr`esor. . . en vain lutta?t?elle de toutes ses forces pour sauver le contenu de son coffre, les larrons diaboliques furent les plus forts. Si Ketty avait eu les moyens de faire un signe de croix, ajoute la l`egende Irlandaise, elle Les eut mis en fuite, mais ses mains `etaient captives? Le larcin fut effectu`e. Alors les pauvres sollicit`erent en vain pr`es de Ketty d`epouill`ee, elle ne pouvait plus secourir leur mis`ere;?elle les abandonnait `a la tentation. Pourtant il ny avait plus que huit jours `a passer

pour que les grains et les fourrages arrivassent en abondance des pays dOrient. Mais, huit jours, c`etait un si`ecle : huit jours n`ecessitaient une somme immense pour subvenir aux exigences de la disette, et les pauvres allaient ou expirer dans les angoisses de la faim, ou, reniant les saintes maximes de lEvangile, Vendre `a vil prix leur `ame, le plus beau pr`esent de la munificence du Seigneur toutpuissant. Et Ketty navait plus une obole, car elle avait abandonn`e son ch`ateaux aux malheureux. Elle passa douze heures dans les larmes et le deuil, arrachant ses cheveux couleur de soleil et meurtrissant son

sein couleur du lis: puis elle se leva r`esolue, anim`ee par un vif sentiment de d`esespoir. Elle se rendit chez les marchands d`ames. Que voulez? vous? dirent ils.? Vous achetez des `ames?? Oui, un peu malgr`e vous, nest ce pas, sainte aux yeux de sapbir?? Aujourdhui je viens vous proposer un march`e, reprit elle.? Lequel?? Jai une `ame `a vendre; mais elle est ch`ere.? Quimporte si elle est pr`ecieuse? L`ame, comme le diamant, sappr`ecie `a sa blancheur.? Cest la mienne, dit Ketty.? Les deux envoy`es de Satan tressaillirent, Leurs griffes sallong`erent sous leurs gants de cuir; leurs yeux gris

`etincel`erent:??l`ame, pure, immacul`ee, virginale de Ketty c`etait une acquisition inappr`eciable. Gentille dame, combien voulez?vouz?? Cent cinquante mille `ecus dor.? Cest fait, dirent les marchands: et ils tendirent `a Ketty un parchemin cachet`e de noir, quelle signa en frissonnant. ? La somme lui fut compt`ee. Des quelle fut rentr`ee, elle dit au majordome: Tenez, distributeez ceci. Avec la somme que je vous donne les pauvres attendront la huitaine n`ecessaire et pas une de leurs `ames ne sera livr`ee au d`emon. ? Puis elle senferma et recommanda quon ne vint pas la d`eranger.

Trois jours se pass`erent; elle nappela pas; elle ne sortit pas. Quand on ouvrit sa porte, on la trouva raide et froide: elle `etait morte de douleur. Mais la vente de cette `ame si adorable dans sa charit`e fut d`eclar`ee nulle par le Seigneur: car elle avait sauv`e ses concitoyens de la morte `eternelle. Apr`es la huitaine, des vaisseaux nombreux amen`erent lIrlande affam`ee dimenses provisions de grains. La famine n`etait plus possible. Quant aux marchands, ils disparurent de leur h`otellerie, sans quon s`ut jamais ce quils `etaient devenus. Toutefois, les p`echeurs de la Blackwater pr`etendent quils sont enchain`es dans une prison southerraine par ordre de Lucifer jusquau moment o`u ils pourront livrer l`ame de Ketty qui leur a `echapp`e. l`egende telle que je la sais. ?Mais les pauvres lont racont`ed`age en `age et les enfants de Cork et de Dublin chantent encore la ballade Dont voice les derniers couplets:? Pour sauver les pauvres quelle aime Ketty donna Son esprit, sa croyance m`eme Satan paya Cette `ame au d`evoument sublime, En `ecus dor, Disons pour racheter son crime, Confiteor. Mais lange qui se fit coupable Par charit`e Au s`ejour damour ineffable Est remont`e. Satan vaincu neut pas de prize Sur ce coeur dor; Chantons sous la nef de l'eglise, Confiteor. Nest ce pas que ce r`ecit, n`e de limagination des po`etes catholiques de la verte Erin, est une V`eritable r`ecit de car`eme? The Countess Cathleen was acted in Dublin in 1899, with Mr. Marcus St. John and Mr. Trevor Lowe as the First and Second Demon, Mr. Valentine Grace as Shemus Rua, Master Charles Sefton as Teig, Madame San Carola as Mary, Miss Florence Farr as Aleel, Miss Anna Mather as Oona, Mr. Charles Holmes as the Herdsman, Mr. Jack Wilcox as the Gardener, Mr. Walford as a Peasant, Miss Dorothy Paget as a Spirit, Miss M. Kelly as a Peasant Woman, Mr. TE Wilkinson as a Servant, and Miss May Whitty as The Countess Kathleen. They had to face a very vehement opposition stirred up by a politician and a newspaper, the one accusing me in a pamphlet, the other in long articles day after day, of blasphemy because of the language of the demons or of Shemus Rua, and because I made a woman sell her soul and yet escape damnation, and of a lack of patriotism because I made Irish men and women, who, it seems, never did such a thing, sell theirs. The politician or the newspaper persuaded some forty Catholic students to sign a protest against the play, and a Cardinal, who avowed that he had not read it, to make another, and both politician and newspaper made such obvious appeals to the audience to break the peace, that a score or so of police were sent to the theater to see that they did not. I had, however, no reason to regret the result, for the stalls, containing almost all that was distinguished in Dublin, and a gallery of artisans alike insisted on the freedom of literature. After the performance in 1899 I added the love scene between Aleel and the Countess, and in this new form the play was revived in New York by Miss Wycherley as well as being played a good deal in England and America by amateurs. Now at last I have made a complete revision to make it suitable for performance at the Abbey Theatre. The first two scenes are almost wholly new, and throughout the play I have added or left out such passages as a stage experience of some years showed me encumbered the action; the play in its first form having been written before I knew anything of the theatre. I have left the old end, however, in the version printed in the body of this book, because the change for dramatic purposes has been made for no better reason than that audiences??even at the Abbey Theater??are almost ignorant of Irish mythology or because a shallow stage made the elaborate vision of armed angels upon a mountain?side impossible. The new end is Especially suited to the Abbey stage, where the stage platform can be brought out in front of the prosceniurn and have a flight of steps at one side up which the Angel comes, crossing towards the back of the stage at the opposite side. The principal lighting is from two arc lights in the balcony which throw their lights into the faces of the players, making footlights unnecessary. The room at Shemus Ruas house is suggested by a great gray curtain? a color which becomes full of rich tints under the stream of light from the arcs. The two or more arches in the third scene permit the use of a gauze. The short front scene before the last is just long enough when played with incidental music to allow the scene set behind it to be changed. The play when played without interval in this way lasts a little over an hour. The play was performed at the Abbey Theater for the first time on December 14, 1911, Miss Maire ONeill taking the part of the Countess, and the last scene from the going out of the Merchants was as follows:? (MERCHANTS rush out. ALEEL crawls into the middle of the room; the twilight has fallen and gradually darkens as the scene goes on.) ALEEL. They're rising up? They're rising through the earth, Fat Asmodel and giddy Belial, And all the fiends. Now they leap in the air. But why does Hells gate creak so? Round and round, Hither and hither, to and fro they're running. He moves about as though the air was full of spirits. OONA enters.) Crouch down, old heron, out of the blind storm. OONA. Where is the Countess Cathleen? All this day Her eyes were full of tears, and when for a moment Her hand was laid upon my hand, it trembled. And now I do not know where she is gone. ALEEL. Cathleen has chosen other friends than us, And they are rising through the hollow world. Demons are out, old heron. OONA. God guard her soul. ALEEL. Shes bartered it away this very hour, As though we two were never in the world. (He knees beside her, but does not seem to hear her words. The PEASANTS return. They carry the COUNTESS CATHLEEN and lay her upon the ground before OONA and ALEEL. She lies there as if dead.) OONA. O, that so many pitchers of rough clay Should prosper and the porcelain break in two! (She kisses the hands Of CATHLEEN.) A PEASANT. We were under the tree where the path turns When she grew pale as death and fainted away. CATHLEEN. O! hold me, and hold me tightly, for the storm is dragging me away. (OONA takes her in her arms. A WOMAN begins to wail.) PEASANTS. Hush! PEASANTS Hush! PEASANT WOMEN. Hush! OTHER PEASANT WOMEN. Hush! CATHLEEN. (half rising) Lay all the bags of money in a heap, And when I am gone, old Oona, share them out To every man and woman: judge, and give According to their needs. A PEASANT WOMAN. And will she give Enough to keep my children through the dearth? ANOTHER PEASANT WOMAN. O, Queen of Heaven, and all you blessed saints, Let us and ours be lost, so she be shriven. CATHLEEN. Bend down your faces, Oona and Aleel; I gaze upon them as the swallow gazes Upon the nest under the eave, before She wander the loud waters. Do not weep Too great a while, for there is many a candle On the High Altar though one fall. Aleel, Who sang about the dancers of the woods, That know not the hard burden of the world, Having but breath in their kind bodies, farewell And farewell, Oona, you who played with me And bore me in your arms about the house When I was but a child? and therefore happy, Therefore happy even like those that dance. The storm is in my hair and I must go. (She dies.) OONA. Bring me the looking?glass. (A WOMAN brings it to her out of inner room. OONA holds glass over the lips of CATHLEEN. All is Silent for a moment, then she speaks in a half?scream.) O, she is dead! A PEASANT. She was the great white lily of the world. A PEASANT. She was more beautiful than the pale stars. AN OLD PEASANT WOMAN. The little plant I loved is broken in two. (ALEEL takes looking?glass from OONA and flings it upon fkoor, so that it is broken in manypieces.) ALEEL. I shatter you in fragments, for the face That brimmed you up with beauty is no more; And die, dull heart, for you that were a mirror Are but a ball of passionate dust again! And level earth and plummy sea, rise up! And haughty sky, fall down! A PEASANT WOMAN. Pull him upon his knees, His curses will pluck lightning on our heads. ALEEL. Angels and devils clash in the middle air, And brazen swords clang upon brazen helms. Look, look, a spear has gone through Belials eye! (A winged ANGEL, carrying a torch and a sword, enters from the R. with eyes fixed upon some distant thing. The ANGEL is about to pass out to the L. when ALEEL speaks. The ANGEL Stops a moment and turns.) Look no more on the half? closed gates of Hell, But speak to me whose mind is smitten of God, That it may be no more with mortal things: And tell of her who lies there. (The ANGEL turns again and is about to go, but is seized by ALEEL.) Till you speak You shall not drift into eternity. ANGEL. The light beats down; the gates of pearl are wide. And she is passing to the floor of peace, And Mary of the seven times wounded heart Has kissed her lips, and the long blessed hair Has fallen on her face; the Light of Lights Looks always on the motive, not the deed, The Shadow of Shadows on the deed alone. (ALEEL releases the ANGEL and knees.) OONA. Tell them who walk upon the floor of peace, That I would die and go to her I love, The years like great black oxen tread the world, And God the herdsman goads them on behind, And I am broken by their passing feet.