The Secret Scripture

Roseanne narrates about how Dr. Grene was just in her room. He sat down and said nothing at first. He then asked if she remembered Fr. Garvey. Roseanne says that she does; he was the chaplain at Roscommon twenty years ago—a “little man with the hairs in his nose” (185). Dr. Grene recalls that Roseanne didn’t like visits from Fr. Garvey. He asks her if there was any reason for that. Roseanne says that she simply doesn’t care to interact with clergy members because “[t]hey are so certain about things, and [she is] not” (185).

Roseanne then goes back to writing her testimony. In it, she recalls her visit to Knocknarea to visit John Lavelle. She writes about picking up “a nice smooth stone from the rainy path” (186). Though it was very long ago, she feels as though she’s still stooping there and feeling the stone. Halfway up the mountain, there was a small group of people coming down—upper-class people from Sligo. Roseanne recognized one of the women as a frequent customer at Café Cairo. She told Roseanne that she had heard about her marriage to Tom. Roseanne considered this nice of the woman, given that her marriage was hardly big news. She figured that, if people did discuss it, the subject wouldn’t have brought out “nice talk” (187).

The group continued down the hill, and Roseanne hiked up. She wondered why she had agreed to meet John—“[a] jailbird that was digging Sligo ditches” (188). She figured that she was drawn to him out of “a sort of infinite curiosity” related to her love for her father (188). She reached the top, but didn’t see anyone. She thought that she heard “a swell of old American jazz” (189). Then, a voice called her name. It was John. Roseanne walked down to him. He was standing in what appeared to be “a little bare bed of stones” (189). He had been sunning himself there and invited her to feel the front of his black shirt, which was very warm. Roseanne heart pounded quickly. She insists, in her writing, that it was beating not out of love for John, but for love of her dead father. She wonders if she’s insane.

John admitted that he was drawn to Roseanne because she looked exactly like his dead wife, Kitty. He told her the story of how Black and Tan soldiers had shot Kitty in the head, shot one of his sons, and caused their other boy to fall out of her arms and hit his head on “the threshold stone” (191). Seanín, the surviving son, moved in with his maternal family who lived on the island of Keane, from which they took their surname. John told Seanín that, if anything were to happen to him, Seanín was to look after Roseanne. However, he didn’t think that his son understood what he was asking of him or even knew where Sligo was.

John told Roseanne that he would go back to being a rebel because he didn’t care for digging roads. He then told her that he had never seen anyone lovelier than she, except his wife, and that he loved her. Roseanne heard voices coming up the path. It was nearly teatime. She bolted. On her way downhill, she saw a group of priests. She orders John to hide so that no one will see her with him. It was too late; “[t]he gaggle of holy men” had discovered them (192). Father Gaunt was among them and looked at Roseanne “with a blank, heart-hurting look” (192).

Roseanne made her way back home. Tom wasn’t there. He had driven to Sligo for General Eoin O’Duffy’s visit. Part of Roseanne’s dread over meeting John Lavelle was that he was technically an enemy of O’Duffy. She heard the start of cars and rushed to a window. She saw Tom at the front of a cavalcade of Fords, driving his own vehicle. She then laid down on her “cool sheets and tried to be calm” (193). She had the curious feeling of not being herself, as though her identity was slipping away from her.

She thought about the effects of the recent wars on Ireland. The war of Irish independence hadn’t only killed soldiers and policemen “but also tinkers and tramps and the like,” people who were “dirtying up the edges of things” for those who wanted things to look nice (193-94). She thinks of those in Belfast—people “so poor they had never seen a lavatory”—that fled out to the country to escape German bombs (194). No one wanted the refugees in their homes. Those who remained in Belfast got burned out, like the rats Joe Clear had lit on fire.

Roseanne writes in her testimony that she didn’t know anything about Germans or politics back then. All she knew was that the leader of Germany at the time was like the one in Italy and some of the politicians in Finland. They were “noisy men” who wanted everyone to be “clean and fit and pure” so that they would go out and “extinguish the lousy, the ragged, the morally unsound” (194).

Roseanne awoke in the wee hours. Tom was home. While in a state between dreaming and wakefulness, she heard him moving around the room. The moon was large and bright over Knocknarea, shining light upon the cairn. There, she believed that she spied “a figure atop the cairn, in black clothes, with a great fold of bright wings behind him” (195). Roseanne sat up, noticing blood on Tom’s face. He told her that there was a brawl with some Sligo guards who had probably been brought in from Collooney. General O’Duffy screamed at them that they had no permit to march in Sligo, though he had been “the head of the same guards only a few years ago” (195). In all, Tom said that he had a nice time and that there was a crowd unlike any he had ever seen. He told Roseanne that she ought to have come then asked how she spent her day. She said that she went walking. Tom held her to him. Somewhere, “between the blood and moonlight,” they fell asleep (196).

Dr. Grene begins writing in his commonplace book. He notes that there was “panic” at the hospital the day before (196). The woman whose sister had found her bloodstained boarded a bus to Leitrim in her hospital gown. Her husband called, angry at the hospital for not looking after her properly. Dr. Grene regrets that they couldn’t provide the woman with better care but wishes her well.

He went up to Roseanne’s room—he’s more comfortable now calling her by her first name—feeling “quite light-hearted” (197). He remarks on how thin her skin is. Her veins look to him “like roads, rivers, towns, and monuments on a map” (197). He also noticed a red rash on one side of her face and that she spoke as though her tongue were swollen. He makes a note to have Mr. Wynn, the medical doctor, give her a check-up.

Dr. Grene decided to talk to Roseanne about her child but then changed his mind. He’s been thinking a lot about it because, if there is truth to what Father Gaunt wrote in his deposition, which Dr. Grene’s old acquaintance, an administrator named Percival Quinn dug up, then there could be a problem with Roseanne’s internment.

Dr. Grene is at home and feels calm. He’s grateful to be alone, though he still loves his wife. He recalls his exchange with Roseanne earlier that day. He sensed that it was the day when she would have revealed herself to him completely, if he had asked, but he had opted instead for her silence.

The narrative shifts back to Roseanne’s testimony. She writes about how Dr. Grene entered her room in good spirits. This surprised her; she engaged him in conversation. He talked for a while, remarking on the lovely spring day. He then broached the question about her father being in the police. For the second time, she told him that Joe Clear was never a policeman. Her brother-in-law, Eneas, was the only policeman in her family.

Dr. Grene then asked about her child, which caused Roseanne to start crying quietly. Dr. Grene assured her that he hadn’t meant to upset her. He looked at her “with a face so miserable” that Roseanne could only laugh aloud (200). He joined her in laughter, though they did so “softly and quietly, like [they] didn’t want anyone else to hear” (200).

Roseanne later thinks about her memories, which seem strange even to her. She wonders if anything she remembers is even real. She has faith in some memories, using them as guide posts. By nightfall, she knew something was wrong. She felt “a swelter of love for [her] husband” (201). She continued to wait patiently for his return. 

Roseanne recalls that, two nights later, she may have still been sitting at home, waiting for Tom. She has difficulty reasoning this, imagining that she must have eaten something and used the toilet at some point, but she can’t remember; all she remembers is that it was a Saturday. Though it was still too early for the evening dance, cars were arriving from Sligo. She went out to the Plaza, where Tom performed. She recalls that people danced there as though it were their religion. The band played “Honeysuckle Rose,” then “The Man I Love,” a slower tune. Old Tom was playing the solo at the beginning of the piece, but then Roseanne’s Tom, who was a bit drunk, cut in with his clarinet. Toward the end of the song, Tom put his clarinet down, stepped down off stage, and went to his dressing room.

Roseanne stepped toward Tom but was restrained by Jack, who coldly asked her what she wanted. Roseanne was confused by the question. She asked to go see Tom, but Jack told her that her husband didn’t want to see her. When she asked what he meant, his voice warmed. He told her that their mother had spoken on the matter of Roseanne and Tom’s marriage and insisted that Tom would make good. To calm Roseanne, who was becoming hysterical, he then assured her that Mrs. McNulty could change her mind. Roseanne began to scream “for Tom, for mercy, for God” (210). Jack put his arms tightly around her waist and asked her to calm herself. Roseanne kept wailing, feeling love for Tom and hatred for the future.

She returned home. She was in agony. Roseanne writes that, had she been a horse, someone would’ve shot her to put her out of her misery. Ironically, in those days, even shooting a person was no big deal. Tom planned to ship out with General O’Duffy’s army, which was aligned with Francisco Franco. In the Irish Civil War, many people had been shot, enough “to murder the new country in its cradle” (210).

The next morning was “absurdly beautiful” (210). A sparrow had gotten into the house because Roseanne, in her grief, had forgotten to close the front door. She walked the bird into a corner and then picked it up. Its “wild beating” made it feel “like a flying heart” (211). She then walked outside and released “the little useless grey bird back into the sunshine” (211).

Just then, Father Gaunt walked into her iron hut as though he owned it. Roseanne, thinking back on those times, figures that priests believed that they owned the new country. Jack followed him. Roseanne retreated. Father Gaunt asked how Cissy was doing, but Roseanne didn’t know. She found the question strange, given that it was Father Gaunt who wanted Cissy committed. Still, she hoped that her mother was all right. She figured that she knew where Cissy was, just not how she was.

Roseanne looked at Tom, who appeared healthy, clean, and well-shaven, though she knew “he had been drinking spectacularly for a few weeks past” (212). Father Gaunt ordered Roseanne to remain in her hut until he brought things between her and Tom to some resolution. He then promised to inform her of her position with Tom and “make arrangements for the future” (214). She expressed her desire to be with her husband, though Father Gaunt admonished her that she “should have thought of that before” (214). Roseanne noticed that Father Gaunt looked embarrassed, as he had on the night when Willie Lavelle’s corpse lay in the temple at the cemetery. This was the second time, she realized, that she had caused him “[d]ispleasure and disquiet at the nature of woman” (214). Father Gaunt tells her to be content with her own company, assuring her that she had nothing to fear other than herself. Then, the two men left the hut and left Roseanne feeling nothing but “dark rage” (215).

Roseanne figures that her rage was “a small thing” (215). The history of the world contained so much grief. Still, that night, “alone and unfathomably angry,” she seemed to be the only one in pain. She beat her breast until there were bruises. Her “breast looked like a map of hell, a map of nowhere,” or as though Jack and the father’s words “had actually burned [her]” (215-16).