This political disparity can also be seen in Translations through the reference to O’Donnell. It is almost incomprehensible that the leading Catholic exponent of Irish Nationalism at that time should suggest that, ‘The old language is a barrier to modern progress.’(25) There is an opposition between the audiences’ expectation of a character and their actual presentation. The positions assumed by Yolland and Owen over the future of the Irish language are in complete antithesis to the attitudes one would anticipate. Although romantic, it is the English army officer who is the main voice in favour of preserving the Irish language. He believes it is ‘an eviction of sorts,’ as if ‘something is being eroded.’ (43) Hugh, Maire and Owen all stand in opposition to this view, perceiving their language as either unimportant or as a restriction upon their lives. Maire realises that English is the language of trade and modernity, a language she will need to keep her family alive. Ironically, and confrontationally, it is the Irish who can look beyond the romance to the practicalities of their situation,
It can happen that a civilisation can be imprisoned in a linguistic contour which no longer matches the landscape of… fact.(43)
History forms a fundamental link with the cultural identity of a nation. In ‘Observe the Sons’ and Translations this link manifests itself through the language. A conversation between Anderson and McIlwaine is bought to an end by the statement, ‘Who gives a Fenian’s curse?’(44) The hatred of the ‘Ulster boys’ towards the Catholic ‘Fenians’ has integrated itself into the very roots of their colloquial language. Language, predominantly through the historical roots of the Irish language can be used as a weapon, or perceived to be used as a weapon. This concept is presented comically by McGuinness as the ‘sons of Ulster’ believe the Germans would learn Irish to insult them in it, ‘Fenians, Gaelic speakers. They get everywhere. Even in the German army.’(64) Here one can see that the Irish are being defined by their language. To Pyper and McIlwaine, an insult in Irish would be far worse than any insult in German. Clearly, this is portrayed humorously, yet it demonstrates that language and its historical representation becomes an integral part of their belief system. The history of the Irish language and its connotations to both the Protestants and the Catholics has become inextricably linked to the fundamentals of their cultural identity and their unwavering belief in the superiority of their own ideology.
The history of language in Translations ironically is more important to Yolland to be preserved than any of the Irish characters. Hugh says, ‘words are signals, counters. They are not immortal.’ (43) The naming of the crossroads at Tobair Vree exemplifies the mortality of language,
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? (44)
The question over the representation of history rests not only upon whether history should be remembered accurately, but whether it is important enough to be remembered at all. In the greater universality of Irish history, how significant is the memory of a man who drowned in a well? Perhaps the actual naming of the crossroads isn’t the more material issue; I would suggest that the fact the story exists and can be told is of predominant concern. ‘Isn’t that what history is, a kind of story telling.’ (8) The history of the crossroads is of more consequence in the tradition of the story and its telling. Friel investigates whether it is the story or the truth that should be preserved,
People think they just want to know the ‘facts’; they think they believe in some sort of empirical truth, but what they really want is a story. (66)
The tradition of storytelling and oral history, although unreliable to the historian, still provides vital evidence to the past. In many ways the presence of bias in history can give insights into the contemporary views of the individuals and historians of that time.
Just as history is open for interpretation due to the element of the story, these interpretations can be used for many different purposes. In Making History the irony of the multiple interpretations develops through the presentation and juxtaposition of both points of view. Just as O’Donnell refers to Henry Bagenal as ‘Butcher Bagenal’ (14), Mabel declares that ‘Henry calls him Butcher O’Donnell;’(17) both sides tell the same stories. Mabel is taken in by the stereotypes as she actually checks her hand to see if it has turned black after shaking hands with an Archbishop, an event reminiscent of Pyper’s story about the three-legged Papist whore. The fact that Mabel and Moore do believe the stories, to whatever extent, demonstrates the dangers of 'stories' especially if they are based on falsity. The stories, which stereotype either side, create boundaries of fear and superstition between the two factions; a dangerous segregation of people, who share many of the same essential beliefs on standards in society, based on untruths.
Many events in Irish history can be used or interpreted to serve the needs of both sides. Mary advocates the ideal that the colonialists, her father, ‘tamed’ and ‘brought order’ (14) to the ignorant, Irish savages. Mabel is able to see the nationalist, or Irish view of this,
I imagine the Cistercian monks in Newry didn’t think our grandfather
an agent of civilisation when he routed them out of their monastery
and took it over as our home. (24)
The same events behave as tools of propaganda for both sides. The ‘truths’ of history can be contorted to serve the needs of the historian. The audience becomes the deciding factor over the presentation of what is portrayed as being ‘absolute truth.’
The life of Hugh O’Neill can be told in many different ways. And those ways are determined by the needs and demands and expectations of different people and different eras. What do they want to hear? How do they want it told?’ (15)
Lombard suggests that the figures in history and the historian are subordinate to the desires of the audience, that the truth is secondary to the desires of the individual. Lombard excuses his liberalism with the truth by claiming it is what the people want to hear. Yet there is no inclination as to how he has judged this ‘fact’ he presents. Moreover, the suggestion is that the story of Hugh is the story he will allow people to read. Ironically it is Hugh who is the only voice of opposition to this overtly romanticised view of his life.
Similarly, in ‘Observe the sons of Ulster’ the audience is presented with conflicting views of the same events, however, on this occasion the contradictory stories come from the same side. The discussions over Pearce, ‘the boy who took over a post office because he was short of a few stamps.’(64) Yet immediately juxtaposed is the view that Pearce was ‘a bastard [who] shot down our men until he got what he was looking for.’ (64) Even the negative, accusatory stories of the situation are opposing. Was he a Fenian or a soldier? Did he plan it? Did his mother shoot him? ‘To hell with the truth as long as it rhymes.’ (65) McIlwaine even admits that Roulston ‘invented’ the best bits of the story, yet it is still told and the soldiers still accept it. When faced with a story they feel comfortable with, a palatable history, a story that justifies their hatred and serves their needs, it becomes acceptable. Lombard’s views on the recording of history are true; people find it difficult to accept a story that upsets their beliefs. A view supported by Cruise O’Brien who,
Compelled people to make uncomfortable reappraisals of emotions
cosily and lazily cherished, he incurred considerable personal and political hostility.
The most difficult story to believe, or write accurately, is one which goes against that which we have taken to be ‘absolute truth’ and based our ideologies upon.
‘But are truth and falsity the proper criteria?’(8) Making History and ‘Observe the Sons of Ulster’ raise the question as to how important it is that history is recorded truthfully. Pyper notes at the opening to the play, ‘You are the creator, invent such details as suit your purpose best.’(9) The historian prevails over the history and the audience over the historian. One cannot prove either way whether Pyper’s stories of the past are true or not. Yet surely the focus should fall upon why he chooses to tell such stories. Pyper uses his stories to mock the stereotypical beliefs of his companions. Pyper exploits the dangerous implications a story can have, and the willingness of his compatriots to believe him. Pyper demonstrates that by expressing the horrors of war the historian, ‘the creator’ is enforcing order upon it. The past is ineffable, it cannot ever be truly expressed or recreated. ‘Fenians claim a Cuchullian as their ancestor, but he is ours.’ (10) There will always be different versions of history, ‘we are God’s chosen.’(10) Both may be acceptable, but there will always be the need to rationalise the past so that we can understand it, even if through rationalisation the true events are lost.
O’Neill and Lombard represent the two sides of the debate as to whether ‘truth or falsity’ are the proper criteria in the representation of history. Both sides of the argument are equally viable,
I’m not sure that ‘truth’ is a primary ingredient- is that a shocking thing to say? Maybe when the time comes, imagination will be as important as information.(9)
It is this view that has the last word in the play, O’Neill is reduced to a quivering wreck, unable to express anything coherently. O’Neill’s desire for the truth is based on the fear that Lombard will ‘embalm [him] in-in-in a florid lie.’(63) Hugh’s need for the truth is personal; he is less concerned with how the ‘florid lie’ will affect those who believe it, and the consequences thereof, than with his own presentation as an individual. Hugh does not want to be martyred or embalmed, he wants his history told truthfully; he continually repeats the word ‘truth.’ He wants the truth for Mabel and the truth for himself, not the ‘truth’ acceptable to the Irish nation. O’Neill has been exploited by history and the historian; his significance as an individual has been taken from him.
The two plays also demonstrate how history and its presentation are ‘to blame’ for the continuation of deep-rooted grievances. ‘History has to be made- before it’s remade.’(9) In investigating the making of history, one has to consider who the ‘creator’ is. Hugh points to the contradictory fact that he and Henry Bagenal once fought together,
That’s a detail our annalists in their wisdom chose to overlook… I’m beginning to wonder should we trust historians. (27)
By the end of the play, Hugh knows that you cannot trust the historians, or figures like Lombard who, although he argues that he is not a historian, still writes what he terms as ‘The History of Hugh O’Neill.’ Yet despite this Hugh still desires his history to be told. His determination that it is told truthfully falters and collapses by the end of the play. Hugh realises his fight against ‘the slow sure tide of history’ is futile. Hugh’s life is governed by his continued awareness of how he will be presented to future generations. Lombard is writing a history for a nationalist audience, in doing so he is ‘making history’ inaccessible to a non-nationalist audience, he is laying claim to a period of time. ‘You lost a battle- that has to be said. But the telling of it can still be a triumph.’(65) There are certain aspects of history, which even Lombard recognises cannot be tampered with. In history there are some objective facts, ‘that has to be said,’ yet in Lombard’s view of history these ‘facts’ can be moulded, despite the effect playing with the truth in this way may have.
Pyper believes that ‘invention gives that slaughter shape.’(9) Pyper terms history as invention, thus the historian is the inventor. Giving shape to any of the events in the war can inevitably only lead to an element of falsity. The effect of the past on the future is infinite. In ‘Observe the Sons of Ulster’ the role of the Ulster Unionists in the war, ‘But we’re the scum of it. We go first,’(35) and thus the number of Ulster boys who died led to a great debt owed to Ireland by England. If future events and agreements are going to be based on past events then surely it is vital that they are based on the truth, or else leaving them open to be undermined in the future.
The sons of Ulster will rise and lay their enemy low, as they did as the Boyne, as they did at the Somme. (10)
The truth being that ‘the sons of Ulster’ were slaughtered at the Somme.
The incongruities of history arise due to the act of remembrance being the main ritual of history. In Translations, Owen is the only one to remember the story of Tobair Vree, yet Hugh says ‘to remember everything is a form of madness,’(67) and the play ends on Hugh’s forgetfulness. Pyper repeats this view,
Did you intend that we should keep seeing ghosts? It was the first sign that your horrors had shaken us into madness. (9)
Ghosts are the memories of history and to only remember ghosts would lead to madness. ‘Observe the Sons of Ulster’ commences with Remembrance, signifying its importance. One should remember events so that a lesson may be learnt. The irony of the ritual is that due to the inconsistencies of history, one may be learning a lesson from inaccurately represented information; one may be basing beliefs upon the accounts of ‘historians’ such as Lombard.
The three plays I have examined all demonstrate the fatality of an unquestioned belief in history. The mistaken trust of the ‘sons of Ulster’ that they are ‘God’s chosen’ and will always triumph as they did at the Boyne; the belief of the inhabitants of Baile Baeg that there will never be potato blight because of the prophecy of St. Colmcile, ‘The spuds will bloom in Baile Baeg/ till rabbits grow an extra lug.’(21-22) The representation of history is that one should never accept it at face value, that it always carries the agenda of the historian. The individuals are deprived of their significance through their portrayal in history. Pyper, Roulston Moore, all become, ‘the sons of Ulster;’ Hugh O’Neill becomes ‘The O’Neill,’ individual place names are translated and a people and language are forgotten. The representation of history becomes the remembrance of useful, convenient facts, with no possibility for ‘absolute truths.’
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Terence Brown, Ireland A Social and Cultural History 1922-1985 (London: Fontana, 1985)
Brian Friel, Making History (London: Faber, 1989)
Brian Friel, Translations, (London: Faber, 1981)
Frank McGuinness, Observe the Sons of Ulster Marching Towards the Somme (London: Faber, 1986)
Frank McGuinness, ‘Observe the Sons of Ulster Marching Towards the Somme’ (London: Faber, 1986)
Terence Brown, Ireland a social and cultural history 1922-1985 (London: Fontana, 1985) p.285
‘Irishmen and Irish Women. In the name of God and of the dead generations from which she receives her old tradition of nationhood, Ireland…strikes for her freedom.’
Terence Brown, Ireland a social and cultural history p.289
B. Friel, Making History (London: Faber, 1989) p.1
B. Friel, Translations (London: Faber, 1981) p.25
T. Brown, Ireland a social and cultural history p.286