HUGH Nonsense? What nonsense?
7. Of the common people. poetry while walking through England's Lake Dis8. Expedition [Latin; Friel's note], trict. 9. Hireling, subservient. 2. I.e., Greek and Latin literature. 1. Romantic poet (1770?1850), who composed 3. In Roman mythology.
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FRIEL: TRANSLATIONS, ACT 3 / 25 11
OWEN Do you know where the priest lives? HUGH At Lis na Muc, over near . . . OWEN No, he doesn't. Lis na Muc, the Fort of the Pigs, has become Swine-
fort. [Now turning the pages of the Name-Book?a page per name. | And to get to Swinefort you pass through Greencastle and Fair Head and Strandhill and Gort and Whiteplains. And the new school isn't at Poll na gCaorach? it's at Sheepsrock. Will you be able to find your way?
[HUGH pours himself another drink. Then.]
HUGH Yes, it is a rich language, Lieutenant, full of the mythologies of fantasy and hope and self-deception?a syntax opulent with tomorrows. It is our response to mud cabins and a diet of potatoes; our only method of replying to . . . inevitabilities.
[To OWEN.] Can you give me the loan of half-a-crown? I'll repay you out of the subscriptions I'm collecting for the publication of my new book. [To YOLLAND.] It is entitled: 'The Pentaglot Preceptor4 or Elementary Institute of the English, Greek, Hebrew, Latin and Irish Languages; Particularly Calculated for the Instruction of Such Ladies and Gentlemen as may Wish to Learn without the Help of a Master'.
YOLLAND [Laughs.] That's a wonderful title!
HUGH Between ourselves?the best part of the enterprise. Nor do I, in fact, speak Hebrew. And that last phrase?'without the Help of a Master'?that was written before the new national school was thrust upon me?do you think I ought to drop it now? After all you don't dispose of the cow just because it has produced a magnificent calf, do you?
YOLLAND YOU certainly do not. HUGH The phrase goes. And I'm interrupting work of moment. [He goes to the door and stops there.]
To return briefly to that other matter, Lieutenant. I understand your sense of exclusion, of being cut off from a life here; and I trust you will find access to us with my son's help. But remember that words are signals, counters. They are not immortal. And it can happen?to use an image you'll understand? it can happen that a civilisation can be imprisoned in a linguistic contour which no longer matches the landscape of . . . fact.
Gentlemen. [He leaves.] OWEN 'An expeditio with three purposes': the children laugh at him: he always
promises three points and he never gets beyond A and B. YOLLAND He's an astute man. OWEN He's bloody pompous. YOLLAND But so astute. OWEN And he drinks too much. Is it astute not to be able to adjust for sur
vival? Enduring around truths immemorially posited?hah! YOLLAND He knows what's happening. OWEN What is happening? YOLLAND I'm not sure. But I'm concerned about my part in it. It's an eviction
of sorts. OWEN We're making a six-inch map of the country. Is there something sinister in that?
YOLLAND Not in . . .
OWEN And we're taking place-names that are riddled with confusion and . . .
4. I.e., the five-tongued head teacher.
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25 10 / NATION AND LANGUAGE
YOLLAND Who's confused? Are the people confused?
OWEN . . . and we're standardising those names as accurately and as sensitively as we can. YOLLAND Something is being eroded. OWEN Back to the romance again. Alright! Fine! Fine! Look where we've got
to. [He drops on his hands and knees and stahs a finger at the map.] We've come to this crossroads. Come here and look at it, man! Look at it! And we call that crossroads Tobair Vree. And why do we call it Tobair Vree? I'll tell you why. Tobair means a well. But what does Vree mean? It's a corruption of Brian?[Gaelic pronunciation.] Brian?an erosion of Tobair Bhriain. Because a hundred-and-fifty years ago there used to be a well there, not at the crossroads, mind you?that would be too simple?but in a field close to the crossroads. And an old man called Brian, whose face was disfigured by an enormous growth, got it into his head that the water in that well was blessed; and every day for seven months he went there and bathed his face in it. But the growth didn't go away; and one morning Brian was found drowned in that well. And ever since that crossroads is known as Tobair Vree?even though that well has long since dried up. I know the story because my grandfather told it to me. But ask Doalty?or Maire?or Bridget?even my father?even Manus?why it's called Tobair Vree; and do you think they'll know? I know they don't know. So the question I put to you, Lieutenant, is this: What do we do with a name like that? Do we scrap Tobair Vree altogether and call it?what??The Cross? Crossroads? Or do we keep piety with a man long dead, long forgotten, his name 'eroded' beyond recognition, whose trivial little story nobody in the parish remembers?
YOLLAND Except you.
OWEN I've left here.
YOLLAND You remember it.
OWEN I'm asking you: what do we write in the Name-Book?
YOLLAND Tobair Vree.
OWEN Even though the well is a hundred yards from the actual crossroads? and there's no well anyway?and what the hell does Vree mean? YOLLAND Tobair Vree. OWEN That's what you want?
YOLLAND Yes. OWE N You're certain? YOLLAND Yes.
OWEN Fine. Fine. That's what you'll get.
