'The Jesuit' is important in its staging of Scottish history and its creative in its use of Scots language. And it had the best free publicity any playwright could wish for.
Though the play deals with events in the 17th century, it had very contemporary resonances in the 1970s.
The Heretics theatre company at the Traverse Theatre, 4 May 1976. Directed by Sandy Neilson.
Father John Ogilvie – Michael Burrell
John Spottiswoode – Henry Stamper, then Sandy Neilson
Lady Rachel Spottiswoode – Beth Robens
Soldiers:
Andrew – Roy Hanlon
Will – James Yuill
Wat – Martin Black
Sandy – Ken Drury
Doctor – David Peate
'Aw fine Ogilvie. Ogilvie'll gae til the gallows and hae his craig stretched – fine for him! That's what he wants, that's whit he's efter! They’ll mak a martyr oot o’m nae doubt – pent his pictur and hing it up on the Vatican waa! Great for Ogilvie! But whae’ll fecht the battles that he'll leave ahint him? No John Ogilvie. He's away!'
'The Jesuit' tells the story of religious passion taken to the point of dying for one's beliefs.
John Ogilvie, a Catholic priest, was executed in 1615 for his refusal to acknowledge the Crown's spiritual authority. In the play Donald Campbell examines the relationships between Ogilvie, his Protestant inquisitor Archibishop John Spottiswoode and the ordinary men who were his prison guards and torturers.
'Do you not understand that to be condemned with all these old lights is a matter of gladness and joy to me. God lives, Spottiswoode, posterity lives and the judgement of posterity will not be so corrupt as yours.'
'Fare ye weel, Faither Ogilvie. One way or the other, fare ye weel!'
Like a number of Scottish playwrights, including Liz Lochhead and Janet Paisley, Donald Campbell was first published as a poet. And like these other two poets he makes dramatic use of the Scots language.
It was an inspired device to have the churchmen speak English (Ogilvie) and 'educated' Scots (Spottiswoode), while the soldiers spoke the language of the Edinburgh football terraces. These language differences conveyed a lot about the class and education of the characters to the local audience.
But when the play travelled further afield, the language which conveyed so much to a Scottish audience proved an obstacle to an Irish one.
‘John Ogilvie was no villain. On the contrary, the Roman Catholic Church, with every justification, have proclaimed him to be a saint. But did he really have to die that day in March, 1615? Was the Catholic faith really served by his death? Or did Ogilvie offer up his life as a ritual sacrifice to a dogma which had become for him the only true reality?’
– Donald Campbell.
Review of Dublin production, 1977:
'There is one crystal thought that emerges from "The Jesuit" by Donald Campbell, which received its Irish premiere at Player's Theatre, Trinity College, last night. The suppurating sores on the face of religious bigotry are not brought to a head by the greatest of all healers: time. The open wounds of seventeenth century Scotland are still not closed today and the passage of years has proved little more than an infectious swab.
'The play chronicles the persecution and death of Fr John Ogilvie, a Jesuit, who refused to acknowledge the ascendancy of temporal over spiritual power. His stand was not merely one of principle. It was enacted in the ghoulish shadow of sectarian strife. At the time, as now, Christianity had taken to the hills and left one denomination devouring the other in a pagan effort to attain the Holy Grail.
'The author is uncompromising in delivering his message. As far as he is concerned, religious bigots are fit to inhabit the dark side of the moon. Unfortunately, the earth is amply graced with their dubious presence. He questions Ogilvie's motives in going to the scaffold. Was he inspired by the desire to protect the sanctity of individual belief or merely making a bid to be included on the Roll Call of the saints? He injects a heavy dose of fanaticism into the veins of the character. If the Jesuit possessed a grain of humility, Campbell chose to ignore it.
'The air is heavily laden with the odour of martyrdom. Ogilvie, according to the playwright, faces his maker in the full knowledge that his passing will increase the flow of blood rather than arrest the slaughter of the innocents. This attitude, we are told, breeds sectarianism. The only unity of mind between the warring factions can be achieved in death. The modern parallel is too horrifyingly obvious.'
– Michael Sheridan, 'Irish Press', Vol. 28, No. 8 (August 1977).
Review of Scottish production, 1978:
'[The Jesuit's] dramatic strength lies in its observation of the soldiers guarding and torturing Ogilvie, rather than in its comprehension of the central character. These humble and bewildered men are shown to be the progenitors of the squabbling hordes who carry on their religious warfare under the banners of Rangers and Celtic. It is a legitimate device to have them speak in the modern idiom, while Ogilvie and Spottiswoode conduct their dialogue in more archaic style, but phrases like ‘Screw the nut’ and ‘Keep the heid’ do seem highly incongruous in an historical play. What matters, however, is that Mr Campbell has invested these rugged characters with great humanity and agonising self doubt.
'The play made a considerable impact when it was first staged at the Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh, and the text ... confirms my belief that it is one of the most important works to have been written for the Scottish stage in recent times.’
– Allen Wright, 'The Scottish Historical Review', Vol. 57, No. 163, Part 1 (April 1978).
This was Donald Campbell's first play, written in 1973. As with many first plays, he could not find a theatre company who would stage it. Most liked it, but feared its historical and religious subject would not bring in an audience.
Two years after it was written, a chance encounter with actor / director Sandy Neilson changed all that. Neilson completely committed himself to the play. He directed the production by the Heretics Theatre Company and stepped in to take the major role of Spottiswoode when one of the actors had to drop out.
Then a remarkable coincidence occurred – totally unexpected as far as playwright and company were concerned.
At almost exactly the same time as the play was due to open in the Traverse Theatre in May 1976, the Catholic Church in Scotland canonised John Ogilvie. The Pope would declare him a saint in October the same year.
Suddenly the play had all the topicality that it could handle, along with the 'controversial' tag, which sells tickets.
© National Library of Scotland 2010