The play that established Barry as one of Ireland's most powerful contemporary playwrights
Thomas Dunne, ex-chief superintendent of the Dublin Metropolitan police looks back on his career built during the latter years of Queen Victoria's empire, from his home in Baltinglass in Dublin in 1932. Like King Lear, Dunne tries valiantly to break free of history and himself. The Steward of Christendom took London by storm when it premiered at the Royal Court Theatre Upstairs in March 1995 with Donal McCann in the title role. It transferred to Broadway and has toured around the world."Sebastian Barry's beautiful and devastating memory play...will stay with us for many years." (New York Times)
Sebastian Barry is an Irish playwright, novelist and poet. He is noted for his dense literary writing style and is considered one of Ireland's finest writers
Barry's literary career began in poetry before he began writing plays and novels. In recent years his fiction writing has surpassed his work in the theatre in terms of success, having once been considered a playwright who wrote occasional novels.
He has twice been shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize for his novels A Long Long Way (2005) and The Secret Scripture (2008), the latter of which won the 2008 Costa Book of the Year and the James Tait Black Memorial Prize. His 2011 novel On Canaan's Side was long-listed for the Booker. He won the Costa Book of the Year again - in 2017 for Days Without End.
I didn't actually read this book, but did something even better. I saw it performed word-for-beautiful-word by a superb cast led by Brian Dennehy. I've read every one of Barry's books and count him among my favorite authors. I even took a side trip in Ireland to visit Sligo because of him. This play is all about the family patriarch and Ireland's "troubles." I KNEW this character since he appears in the many Dunne stories, and what a treat to hear his words come out of the mouth of Dennehy. We spoke with Mr. Dennehy just before the play and I told him how excited I was to see it. I completely agree with Mr. D. who said that Barry is "a helluva writer."
Sebastian Barry has consistently been one of my favorite writers for almost twenty years. Although, this play wasn't as good as the incredible novels I've read by him, it was still quite good. This is a play that is based on his great-grandfather, who was a superintendent of the Dublin Police. He was Catholic but was in service to the King during the Irish war for independence. In the play he is a broken man who is now in an asylum unable to grasp reality. He is visited by his three daughters and most of the play involves conversations between them. One of the things I liked most about the play is that it explains a great deal about the subject matter of many of his earlier novels. He is an absolutely extraordinary writer who I feel has not received the recognition he deserves.
Sure, I did not understand everything in this book, I had a bit of trouble with the temporality of it, but I still loved it nonetheless. What I thought would be a quick and boring school book ended up making me cry for about an hour. So, so beautiful, so sad and so pure. I already want to read it again.
a very touching play about being on the "right" side of history, the processing of grief and trauma, especially in respect to the Easter Rising / Irelands struggle for Independence/ WW1. I haven't touched any of Barry's work before, and found this play to be filled with a great sense of mourning and shame, but it also provides a chance to open your eyes, and a chance for Thomas to come home in a way. Clearly facing dementia and mental illness in a home during his old age, Thomas grapples with his role serving the British army as an Irishman prior to the Easter Uprising. He comes home to realize that his countrymen have in a way, abandoned him, and now scorn him for his previous actions. Valor and Heroicism is always tricky and subjective, especially when we consider political context. Whether you were a member of the DMP or a young man killed too soon in the war, our greatest prides cannot and should not lie within our capacity for violence but forgiveness.
I would have loved to see this play performed in 1995 or anytime for that matter. I read this script after reading Barry’s Annie Dunne, which I adored, and realizing it was the first in the “Annie Dunne” series. I have read three other novels by this author, an Irishman whom I’ve grown to love. I was introduced to him in a Dublin bookstore on the recommendation of the proprietor – when I travel, I try to find something new. I intended to read everything this author has created, I love his stories, style and prose that much.
This book came with a forward by the author, which told me a great deal about his history, motivations and life as an artist. It turns out the protagonist, a high-ranking member of the Dublin police in the 1920s, was based on Barry’s own blood relatives. Being a controversial historical figure in that much contested “little” island and having some proverbial “blood” on his genealogical hands, this was concerning to the author. But like any great artist, he patterned the man as an amalgam and wove together a tragic, yet oddly beautiful, account family and history and mental illness at the time Ireland was about to achieve a long-sought nationalism. As a consequence, I learned a great deal about this time and people, which has always perplexed me as it persists, most notably in my lifetime as 30-year-old “the troubles” starting in the mid to late 1960s. This book has mostly the same characters as in the subsequent Annie Dunne (#2), and we find the large, imposing father figure in a home for the mentally challenged, with increasing dementia as he remembers, recalls and reprocesses over and over the events that shaped his life.
Barry puts Donal McCann, the actor who plays the main character and has most of the lines, on a pedestal. The sheer physical and mental effort of a dense play was astounding, as he slips into the past, gets confused in the present, and ruminates on the way his life has turned out. He’s mostly in his dirty undies and conversing with his colorful caretakers, as well as his daughters, and in confused times with his wife and son who died too soon, leaving him with three daughters who largely adore him still. But he’s a cantankerous old fellow, in his 70s, and can roar and bellow and quickly lapse into groans of agony and weeping.
Some have called this Lear-like, with his creeping madness and three daughters, but this man is already broken, having been the highest-ranking Catholic policeman who had to flee his post when Michael Collins was killed. His reputation already had been tarnished when he led a charge against striking laborers when a riot ensured. Loyalty was his virtue, or so he thought, when he gave the order, resulting in the death of several men and further fueled the burgeoning civil war. He spent his remaining years in anger and regret, having believed himself to be loyal to the best cause for Ireland (this was a time when the country was arguing over a compromise with Great Britain vs. out and out war). This was a time when no official could just “do their duty” – sides had to be taken as disloyalty was punishable by expulsion. Hence, we find old Tom, raging against the injustice of his unwitting descent into political chaos, just trying to do his job and raise his family. He even sent his son to World War 1 on the side of the British (I believe Ireland sat out WW2, but don’t hold me to that), who died after sending his father a heartfelt and lovely letter. His wife died giving birth to their youngest. The girls, along with hired help, survived and even thrived, until the great tragedy of the father, losing everything and residing rurally in ignominy.
Having read Annie Dunne, where we are introduced to the daughters in older age, I greatly enjoyed meeting their younger selves in this account (in the 1920s, right after the fall of the father, and a decade later in the present when father is in a home and the middle-aged girls are dealing with their own challenges of that time of life. The interplay and personalities of the sisters is delightful, as is the dialogue between Tom and his nurse and the gruff older helper, who cannot help but love the old man, who still carries his impressively sized person as an authority. I also cannot help but love the cadence and language and unique dialect when these people speak. It was impossible for me, as I read, not to hear the voices in a lilting or impassioned Irish. I worked with and knew many fine people in Ireland and have fond memories of my time there. This also made the book feel warm and special to me.
This solidified for me that Berry belongs on my short list of authors that I plan to read entirely. Thus, having many more titles ahead of me gives me that special happiness that a bookworm covets. Like all humanoids, I thrive when I have something to look forward to. At the age of 66 this is increasingly rare and all the more precious.
It is, of course, always a little odd reviewing a play on the basis of reading the script. In almost all cases, and I can really only think of Dylan Thomas’s Under Milkwood as a convincing exception, the written script is intended only to enable actors to learn their lines for later performance on stage or screen or radio. It is not really intended for a reading process. Although, when the script is published, its purpose becomes more ambiguous. As a reader, then, of The Steward of Christendom , one must be imagining throughout, how the play would appear on stage, how an audience member would feel in the atmosphere of the theatre and while relating to the characters represented by actors. I must say I found it very straight-forward to do precisely that; while regretting the fact that I was actually at home in my study, and thus missing the power of a theatre context. Interestingly, Barry’s introduction to the Methuen script emphasises the importance of the actor, Donal McCann, both to the stage life of the play and to Barry himself, a matter about which he has also written elsewhere, most notably in his Laureate Lectures, The Lives of the Saints . I found that McCann himself was vividly present in my imagination of the performance of the script. Many of the characters, partly based on members of Barry’s own family, would eventually have some presence in several of Sebastian Barry’s novels, either as characters or as memories. The Steward of Christendom preceded all of those novels, though, in appearing in public. Barry has varying levels of knowledge about the real family members; in some cases, he had direct relationships with them; in some cases he knows of them only through family legend, and consequently has to flesh the character out with his imagination. Much of Barry’s writing is about allowing some dignity and respect to people whose circumstances lead to a dearth of both of those. This is the case with the protagonist of The Steward of Christendom . Thomas Dunne served in the Dublin Metropolitan Police, becoming a Chief Superintendent, as high a position as was available to a Catholic, and he prided himself on the fair effectiveness of his service, and his success in maintaining order on the streets of Dublin. However, in his role, he saw himself as serving the English King, saying, “And we loved our king and we loved our country.” Many of his contemporaries did not share that love. Thomas’s position was to change radically after the handover of Dublin Castle to Michael Collins in 1922 after the signing of the Anglo-Irish Treaty. “On behalf of the Crown the chief secretary wished him well. And indeed it was peaceful, that moment. The savagery and ruin that soon followed broke my heart again and again and again. My streets and squares became places for murder and fire. All that spring and summer, as now and then some brave boy spat at me in the streets, I could not hold back the tide of ruin.” 51. He did not recognise the political dimension to what he saw as having been a civil role. At the time of the play, Dunne is in the local asylum, suffering from dementia. He passes from infantile blabbering to comprehensible conversation that nevertheless misunderstands his present circumstances, but with flashes of articulate self-awareness. His dementia is, though, a pathological condition and serves simply to underline the pathos of his situation. Thomas lost his beloved son in World War 1, and had his proud position of responsibility stripped away from him as a result of a politico-religious tsunami. Now, he is a pathetic figure needing basic care, even from a man whose politics were the opposite of his own. The contemporary perspective on inmates of the asylum underscores society’s readiness to spurn its discards, Thomas Dunne and others: “I’ll be over in the Monkey Ward, sluicing them out”. It is due to Barry’s skill as a writer and to his humanitarian sensitivity that Thomas Dunne retains his dignity, even although in his first appearance he has regressed to childhood, and soon after is stripped to be washed. Yet we build our regard for him as a member of humanity, and by the end of the play, he has won our sympathy. And the final scene is of deep pathos. Sebastian Barry went on to become a similarly sensitive and thoughtful writer of fiction, investigating the travails of the outsider. The Steward of Christendom was an early indicator of all his sensitivity, his humanity and his bravery as an investigator of complex ethical issues.
After reading “A Long Long Way” and “On Canaan’s Side” by the same author earlier this year, which were both excellent novels, I decided to read the rest of his related works about the semi-fictional Dunne Family. So I turned to this short, two act play which is loosely based on the author’s great grandfather, Thomas, a Catholic, who rose to be the Chief or Superintendent of the Dublin Municipal Police in the early 20th Century. The DMP was a police department loyal to the English crown in the years before the Easter Uprising in 1920. It’s a very interesting and tragic account of a man who lived a seemingly honorable life, but whose entire sense of order, duty, and achievement were all overrun by the changing tide of history as the people of Ireland rose up against England to take charge of their own destiny. After the revolution, the DMP is dismantled and Thomas finds his professional loyalty and status cast aside, as he is viewed by many as a traitor for leading police resistance against Irish republicans fighting for their freedom. This includes one confrontation where police killed four rebels.
The play takes place years later in a “county home” in Baltinglass where the aging and broken Thomas is confined and where he tormentingly contemplates the sum total of his life by conjuring spectral visits from his son and daughters, who love him, but whose lives were also scattered and shattered by their father’s decisions and his exercise of authority for the crown. Thomas is tormented and confused by the consequences of his having lived a life and lovingly raised a family while devoted to preserving a societal ideal on the wrong side of history. It’s complicated and heartbreaking, as civil wars and Irish history tend to be. Especially moving are conversations and a letter he reads from his son Willie who suffered in the trenches during the Great War, and who is the protagonist in “A Long Long Way”. Great writing by a masterful author. I hope to watch a theatrical production of the play someday.
My wife and I attended the opening night of the steward of Christendom in the gate theatre the other day and I thought it was spectacular. My wife used to teach secondary school English and she used to love teaching this to her students. She said that Owen Roe captured Mr Dunne perfectly, she said the way he portrayed his character was exceptional. She loved the eerie tone of the play. Enough about that, I though that the play was wonderful, a bit creepy though. Towards the end a small boy came on as ‘young Willy’ who died at the battle of the Somme, he then proceeded to sing ave Maria in the most beautiful tone I have ever heard it. It was like a mother lulling her child to sleep. I think it was a wonderful setting of this play
My wife and I attended the opening night of the steward of Christendom the other day and I thought it was spectacular. My wife used to teach secondary school English and she used to love teaching this to her students. She said that Owen Roe captured Mr Dunne perfectly, she said the way he portrayed his character was exceptional. She loved the eerie tone of the play. Enough about that, I though that the play was wonderful, a bit creepy though. Towards the end a small boy came on as ‘young Willy’ who died at the battle of the Somme, he then proceeded to sing ave Maria in the most beautiful tone I have ever heard it. It was like a mother lulling her child to sleep. I think it was a wonderful setting of this play
This play is a masterpiece. A man who has gone mad in his old age looks back on his life and remembers his loved ones. The prose is beautiful and heartfelt. You can really see into the souls of the various characters. I feel like I will gain much more from this piece every time I re-read it. I cannot recommend it enough.
Having read like 2 books of Sebastian Barry's and like talked about a third there def is a Sebastian Barry Literary Universe (similar to the mcu) and you need like an entire research session and other novels to understand lore but like other than that I really did enjoy this play its so silly
A fast read. I especially loved the last page. Barry has a way of making you love the characters and build a connection to them no matter how many pages you spend with them.
I read it for my Irish lit paper, thought it was alright, kinda just rushed through it. the parent child relationship is endearing, an symbol for Ireland and its people, or the obligations and duties that Ireland owes to its people... Ireland as the old parent in need of care, or Ireland as the young parent who has obligations to its children and has disappointed them and let them down.