have won distinction as writers of fiction, beginning with Miss
Edgeworth whose Irish writings will receive separate treatment in a
volume in "Every Irishman's Library" at the hands of Mr. Malcolm Cotter
Seton. Championed by Canon Hannay himself, who furnishes a genial,
whimsical, provocative introduction to her "The Folk of Furry Farm,"
Miss Purdon there describes what, from the point of view of romance, is
a new part of Ireland, for West Leinster is a land more familiar to
fox-hunters than to poets. Miss Purdon has plenty of independence, but
it is not the frigid impartiality of the student who contemplates the
vagaries and sufferings of human nature like a connoisseur or collector.
She shows her detachment by giving us a faithful picture of Irish
peasant society without ever once breathing a syllable of politics, or
remotely alluding to the equipment and machinery of modern life. The
_dramatis personae_ are all simple folk, most of them poor; the entire
action passes within a radius of a few miles from a country village; and
only on one occasion, and at second hand do we catch so much as a
glimpse of "the quality." Throughout, Miss Purdon relies on the turn of
the phrase to give the spirit of the dialect, and uses only a minimum of
phonetic spelling.
That is the true and artistic method. But Miss Purdon is much more than
a collector or coiner of picturesque and humorous phrases. She has a
keen eye for character, a genuine gift of description and a vein of pure
and unaffected sentiment; indeed, her whole volume is strangely
compounded of mirth and melancholy, though the dominant impression left
by its perusal is one of confidence in the essential kindliness of Irish
nature, and the goodness and gentleness of Irish women.
But so far, the only formidable competitor Miss Martin and Miss
Somerville have encountered is the genial writer who chooses to veil his
identity under the freakish pseudonym of "George A. Birmingham." Canon
Hannay--for there can be no longer any breach of literary etiquette in
alluding to him by his real name--had already made his mark as a serious
or semi-serious observer of the conflicting tendencies, social and
political, of the Ireland of to-day before he diverged into the paths of
fantastic and frivolous comedy. "The Seething Pot," "Hyacinth," and
"Benedict Kavanagh" are extremely suggestive and dispassionate studies
of various aspects of the Irish temperament, but it is enough for our
present purpose to note the consequences of a request addressed to
Canon Hannay by two young ladies somewhere about the year 1907 that he
would "write a story about treasure buried on an island." The fact is
recorded in the dedication of "Spanish Gold," his response to the
appeal, and the first of that series of jocund extravaganzas which have
earned for him the gratitude of all who regard amusement as the prime
object of fiction.
The contrast between his methods and those of the joint authors
discussed above is apparent at every turn. He maintains the impartiality
which marked his serious novels in his treatment of all classes of the
community, but it is the impartiality not of a detached and
self-effacing observer, but of a genial satirist. His knowledge of the
Ireland that he knows is intimate and precise, and is shown by a
multiplicity of illuminating details and an effective use of local
colour. But the co-operation of non-Irish characters is far more
essential to the development of his plots than in the case of the novels
of Miss Somerville and Miss Martin. The mainspring of their stories is
Irish right through. Canon Hannay depends on a situation which might
have occurred just as well in England or America, while employing the
conditions of Irish life to give it a characteristic twist or series of
twists. Even his most notable creation, the Reverend Joseph John Meldon,
is too restlessly energetic to be an altogether typical Irishman, to say
nothing of his unusual attitude in politics: "Nothing on earth would
induce me to mix myself up with any party." An Irishman of immense
mental activity, living in Ireland, and yet wholly unpolitical is
something of a freak. Again, while the tone of his books is admirably
clean and wholesome, and while his frankly avowed distaste for the
squalors of the problem novel will meet with general sympathy, there is
no denying that his treatment of the "love interest" is for the most
part perfunctory or even farcical. Again, in regard to style, he differs
widely from the authors of the "R.M." Their note is a vivid conciseness;
his the easy charm of a flowing pen, always unaffected, often
picturesque and even eloquent, never offending, but seldom practising
the art of omission.
But it is ungrateful to subject to necessarily damaging comparisons an
author to whom we owe the swift passage of so many pleasant hours. It
might be hard to find the exact counterpart of "J.J." in the flesh, but
he is none the less an unforgettable person, this athletic, exuberant,
unkempt curate, unscrupulous but not unprincipled, who lied fluently,
not for any mean purpose, but for the joy of mystification, or in order
to carry out his plans, or justify his arguments. His strange friendship
with Major Kent, a retired English officer, a natty martinet, presents
no difficulties on the principle of extremes meeting, and thus from the
start we are presented with the spectacle of the reluctant but helpless
Major, hypnotised by the persuasive tongue of the curate, and dragged at
his heels into all sorts of grotesque and humiliating adventures, and
all for the sake of a quiet life. For "J.J.'s" methods, based, according
to his own account, on careful observation and a proper use of the
scientific imagination, involve the assumption by his reluctant
confederate of a succession of entirely imaginary roles.
But if "J.J." was a trying ally, he was a still more perplexing
antagonist, one of his favourite methods of "scoring off" an opponent
being to represent him to be something other than he really was to third
persons. When the process brings the curate and the Major into abrupt
conflict with two disreputable adventurers, he defends resort to extreme
methods on grounds of high morality. Burglary, theft and abduction
become the simple duty of every well-disposed person when viewed as a
necessary means of preventing selfish, depraved and fundamentally
immoral people from acquiring wealth which the well-disposed might
otherwise secure.
"J.J.'s" crowning achievement is his conquest of Mr. Willoughby, the
Chief Secretary, by a masterly vindication of his conduct on the lines
of Pragmatism: "a statement isn't a lie if it proves itself in actual
practice to be useful--it's true." "J.J." only once meets his match--in
Father Mulcrone, the parish priest of Inishmore, who sums up the
philosophy of government in his criticism of Mr. Willoughby's successor:
"A fellow that starts off by thinking himself clever enough to know
what's true and what isn't will do no good for Ireland. A simple-hearted
innocent kind of man has a better chance."
Needless to say, the rival treasure-hunters, both of them rogues, are
bested at all points by the two padres, while poetic justice is
satisfied by the fact that the treasure falls into the adhesive hands of
the poor islanders, and "J.J.'s" general integrity is fully
re-established in the epilogue, where, transplanted to an English
colliery village, he devotes his energies to the conversion of
agnostics, blasphemers and wife-beaters.
The extravagance of the plot is redeemed by the realism of the details;
by acute sidelights on the tortuous workings of the native mind, with
its strange blending of shrewdness and innocence; by faithful
reproductions of the talk of those "qui amant omnia dubitantius loqui"
and habitually say "it might" instead of "yes." And there are
delightful digressions on the subject of relief works, hits at the
Irish-speaking movement, pungent classifications of the visitors to the
wild West of Ireland, and now, and again, in the rare moments when the
author chooses to be serious, passages marked by fine insight and
sympathy. Such is the picture of Thomas O'Flaherty Pat, the patriarch of
the treasure island:
"An elderly man and five out of the nine children resident on the
island stood on the end of the pier when Meldon and the Major landed.
The man was clad in a very dirty white flannel jacket and a pair of
yellowish flannel trousers, which hung in a tattered fringe round his
naked feet and ankles. He had a long white beard and grey hair, long
as a woman's, drawn straight back from his forehead. The hair and
beard were both unkempt and matted. But the man held himself erect and
looked straight at the strangers through great dark eyes. His hands,
though battered and scarred with toil were long and shapely. His face
had a look of dignity, of a certain calm and satisfied superiority.
Men of this kind are to be met with here and there among the Connacht
peasantry. They are in reality children of a vanishing race, of a lost
civilisation, a bygone culture. They watch the encroachments of
another race and new ideas with a sort of sorrowful contempt. It is as
if understanding and despising what they see around them, they do not
consider it worth while to try to explain themselves; as if,
possessing a wisdom of their own, an aesthetic joy of which the modern
world knows nothing, they are content to let both die with them rather
than attempt to teach them to men of a wholly different outlook upon
life."
The element of extravaganza is more strongly marked in the plot of "The
Search Party," which deals with the kidnapping of a number of innocent
people by an anti-militant anarchist who has set up a factory of
explosives in the neighbourhood of Ballymoy. "J.J." does not appear _in
propria persona_, but most of his traits are to be found in Dr. O'Grady,
an intelligent but happy-go-lucky young doctor. The most attractive
person in the story, however, is Lord Manton, a genially cynical peer
with highly original views on local government and the advantages of
unpopularity. Thus, when he did not want Patsy Devlin, the drunken
smith, to be elected inspector of sheep-dipping, he strongly supported
his candidature for the following reasons:--
"There's a lot of stupid talk nowadays about the landlords having lost
all their power in the country. It's not a bit true. They have plenty
of power, more than they ever had, if they only knew how to use it.
All I have to do if I want a particular man not to be appointed to
anything is to write a strong letter in his favour to the Board of
Guardians or the County Council, or whatever body is doing the
particular job that happens to be on hand at the time. The League
comes down on my man at once, and he hasn't the ghost of a chance."
Excellent, too, is the digression on the comparative commonness of earls
in Ireland, where untitled people tend to disappear while earls survive,
though they are regarded much as ordinary people. Canon Hannay makes
great play as usual with the humours of Irish officialdom, and his
_obiter dicta_ on the mental outlook of police officers are shrewd as
well as entertaining. District-Inspector Goddard had undoubted social
gifts, but he was an inefficient officer, being handicapped by indolence
and a great sense of humour. There is something attractive, again, about
Miss Blow, the handsome, resolute, prosaic young Englishwoman whose
heroic efforts to trace her vanished lover are baffled at every turn.
Everybody in Ballymoy told her lies, with the result that they seemed to
her heartless and cruel when in reality they wished to spare her
feelings. Others of the _dramatis personae_ verge on caricature, but the
story has many exhilarating moments.
Exhilarating, too, is "The Major's Niece," which is founded on an
extremely improbable _imbroglio_. So precise and business-like a man as
Major Kent was not likely to make a mistake of seven or eight years in
the age of a visitor especially when the visitor happened to be his own
sister's child. However, the initial improbability may be readily
condoned in view of the entertaining sequel. "J.J." reappears in his
best form, Marjorie is a most engaging tomboy, and the fun never flags
for an instant. But much as we love "J.J.," we reluctantly recognise in
"The Simpkins Plot" that you can have too much of a good thing, and that
a man who would be a nuisance as a neighbour in real life is in danger
of becoming a bore in a novel. At the same time the digressions and
irrelevancies are as good as ever. It is pleasant to be reminded of such
facts as that wedding cake is invariably eaten by the Irish post office
officials, or to listen to Doctor O'Donoghue on the nutrition of
infants:
"You can rear a child, whether it has the whooping cough or not, on
pretty near anything, so long as you give it enough of whatever it is
you do give it."
Canon Hannay excels in the conduct of an absurd or paradoxical
proposition, but he needs a word of friendly caution against undue
reliance on the mechanism of the practical joke. Perhaps his English
cure has demoralized "J.J.," but we certainly prefer him as he was in
Inishgowlan, convinced by practical experience that he would rather do
any mortal thing than try to mind a baby and make butter at the same
time.
Of Canon Hannay's later novels, two demand special attention and for
widely different reasons. In "The Red Hand of Ulster," reverting to
politics--politics, moreover, of the most explosive kind--he achieved
the well-nigh impossible in at once doing full justice to the dour
sincerity of the Orange North, and yet conciliating Nationalist
susceptibilities. In "The Inviolable Sanctuary," he has shown that a
first-rate public-school athlete, whose skill in pastime is confined to
ball games cuts a sorry figure alongside of a chit of a girl who can
handle a boat. This salutary if humiliating truth is enforced not from
any desire to further Feminist principles--Canon Hannay's attitude
towards women betrays no belief in the equality of the sexes--but
because he cannot be bothered with the sentimentality of conventional
love-making. It may be on this account that he more than once assigns a
leading role to an ingenuous young Amazon into whose ken the planet of
love will not swim for another four or five years.
During the last thirty years the alleged decadence of Irish humour has
been a frequent theme of pessimistic critics. Various causes have been
invoked to account for the phenomenon, which, when dispassionately
considered, amounted to this, that the rollicking novel of incident and
adventure had died with Lever. So, for the matter of that, had novels of
the "Frank Fairleigh" type, with their authors. The ascendancy of
Parnell and the regime of the Land League did not make for gaiety, yet
even these influences were powerless to eradicate the inherent
absurdities of Irish life, and the authors of the "R.M." entered on a
career which has been a triumphal disproval of this allegation as far
back as 1889. At their best they have interpreted normal Irishmen and
Irishwomen, gentle and simple, with unsurpassed fidelity and sympathy.
But to award them the supremacy in this _genre_ both as realists and as
writers does not detract from the success won in a different sphere by
Canon Hannay. His goal is less ambitious and aim is less unfaltering,
but as an improvisor of whimsical situations and an ironic commentator
on the actualities of Irish life he has invented a new form of literary
entertainment which has the double merit of being at once diverting and
instructive.
But as we believe this volume will sufficiently show, though these three
novelists have so far transcended the achievements of contemporary
writers on Irish life, they are being followed at no long distance by
younger writers, for whom they have helped to find a public and in whose
more mature achievements they may have to acknowledge a serious literary
rivalry. We have dealt with the women writers to be found in this new
group. It remains for us to criticise the work of the men who belong to
it.
Mr. John Stevenson, otherwise Pat Carty, whose Rhymes have been so
charmingly set to music by Sir Charles Stanford, and so delightfully
sung by Mr. Plunket-Greene, possesses a whimsical gift, both in prose
and verse, which gives fresh evidence of the awakening of an Ulster
school of humorists. His "Boy in the Country" is descriptive of a
child's companionship in the country with farmers and their wives and
servants, his falling under the spell of a beautiful lady whose romance
he assists like a true young cavalier, and his association with that
formidable open-air imp, Jim, a little dare-devil poacher and hard
swearer, who sailed his boats with strips cut from his shirt tails and
could give a canting minister as good as he got, instead of cowering
under his preachment. The manners and customs of the farming class in
the "Nine Glens of Antrim" could not be more simply and humorously told,
and when the author divagates into such sketches as "The Wise Woman and
the Wise Man," and breaks into occasional verse faithfully descriptive
of his natural surroundings, he is equally delightful.
Of course, he is not as old a craftsman as Mr. Shan Bullock, whose dry
drollery has given the readers of his novels and stories so much
pleasure, and whose serious purpose and close observation of Northern
Irish character are so well recognised by all serious students of Irish
life. He is represented in the volume by "The Wee Tea-Table," a
life-like sketch taken from his "Irish Pastorals."
Mr. Frank Mathew, whose first literary work was his biography of his
illustrious grand-uncle Father Mathew, has also written some admirable
stories of Irish life, which appeared in "The Idler," and have been
collected in a volume called "At the Rising of the Moon." "The Last
Race," by which he is represented in this volume, will give our readers
a good taste of his graphic quality.
Mr. Padric Colum will speak for himself on Irish fiction in his
introduction to an edition of Gerald Griffin's "Collegians," which is to
form part of this series of Irish volumes. His finely distinctive
literary style and intimate knowledge of Irish peasant life so clearly
exhibited in his poems, plays and stories, is shown in these pages by
that remarkable sketch of "Maelshaughlinn at the Fair," written with the
elemental abandon of Synge himself.
Finally, in absolute contrast with Mr. Colum's idealistic work, comes
the humorous realism of Lynn Doyle's pictures of the Ulster Peasantry.
But their efforts to over-reach one another, their love of poaching, and
their marriage operations, afford the author of "Ballygullion" a
congenial field for the display of his observation, his high spirits,
and his genuine sense of the ridiculous. His comedy of "The Ballygullion
Creamery Society" which fitly concludes this volume, is good, hearty,
wholesome fun, and we only trust, in Ireland's best interests, that its
official stamp, a wreath of shamrocks and orange lilies--is not merely
an unlikely if amiable suggestion, but is yet to have its counterpart in
reality.
Preface.
The fiction of which this volume consists is in part fabulous in
character, in part descriptive of actual Irish life upon its lighter
side.
The Heroic stories and Folk-tales are, on chronological grounds, printed
early in the book and are then followed by extracts from the writings of
the Irish novelists of the first half and third quarter of the 19th
Century--Maginn, Lever, Lover, and LeFanu.
Then come the writers who have made their mark in recent times, such as
Miss Jane Barlow, the authors of "Some Experiences of an Irish R.M.,"
and Canon Hannay, and lastly those of a new school amongst whom may be
named Mr. Padraic Colum, "Lynn Doyle," and Miss K. Purdon.
This may be said to be the general order of the contents of "Humours of
Irish Life." But where artistic propriety, suggesting contrasts of local
colour and changes of subject, has called for it, a strict chronological
sequence has been departed from; yet enough of it remains to enable the
critic to observe what we believe to be a change for the better, both in
the taste and technique of these Irish stories and sketches, as time has
gone by.
It remains for us to express our cordial obligations to the following
authors and publishers for the use of copyright material. To Messrs.
Macmillan and Miss B. Hunt for the story of "McCarthy of Connacht," from
"Folk Tales of Breffny"; to Canon Hannay and Messrs. Methuen for
chapters from "Spanish Gold" and "The Adventures of Dr. Whitty,"
entitled "J. J. Meldon and the Chief Secretary," and "The Interpreters";
to Mr. H. de Vere Stacpoole and Mr. Fisher Unwin for "The Meet of the
Beagles," from the novel of "Patsy"; to Miss O'Conor Eccles and Messrs.
Cassell for "King William," a story in the late Miss Charlotte O'Conor
Eccles's "Aliens of the West"; to Miss Eleanor Alexander and Mr. Edward
Arnold for "Old Tummus and the Battle of Scarva," from "Lady Anne's
Walk," and to the same publisher and to Mr. John Stevenson for a chapter
entitled "The Wise Woman" from "A Boy in the Country"; to Messrs. James
Duffy and Sons for Kickham's Story of "The Thrush and the Blackbird"; to
Mr. William Percy French for "The First Lord Liftenant"; to Mr. Frank
Mathew for "Their Last Race," from his volume "At the rising of the
Moon"; to Miss K. Purdon for a chapter entitled "The Game Leg," from her
novel "The Folk of Furry Farm," and to its publishers, Messrs. James
Nisbet and Co. Ltd.; to Dr. Douglas Hyde for his Folk-tale of "The Piper
and the Puca"; to Martin Ross and Miss E. [OE]. Somerville and Messrs.
Longmans, Green & Co., for the use of two chapters--"Trinket's Colt" and
"The Boat's Share"--from "Some Experiences of an Irish R.M." and
"Further Experiences of an Irish R.M." respectively; to Mr. Shan Bullock
for "The Wee Tea Table," from his "Irish Pastorals"; to Miss Jane Barlow
and Messrs. Hutchinson for "Quin's Rick," from "Doings and Dealings,"
and for "A Test of Truth," from "Irish Neighbours"; to Mr. Padraic Colum
for his sketch "Maelshaughlinn at the Fair," from his "A Year of Irish
Life," and to the publishers of the book, Messrs. Mills and Boon, Ltd.;
to its author, "Lynn Doyle," and its publishers, Maunsel & Co., for "The
Ballygullion Creamery," from "Ballygullion"; and to Mr. P. J. McCall and
the proprietors of "The Shamrock" for the story "Fionn MacCumhail and
the Princess."
Finally, acknowledgment is due to the courtesy of the Proprietors and
Editor of "The Quarterly Review" for leave to incorporate in the
Introduction an article which appeared in the issue of that periodical
for June, 1913.
CONTENTS
PAGE
DANIEL O'ROURKE _Dr. Maginn_ 1
ADVENTURES OF GILLA NA CHRECK AN GOUR _Patrick Kennedy_ 9
THE LITTLE WEAVER OF DULEEK GATE _Samuel Lover_ 18
FIONN MACCUMHAIL AND THE PRINCESS _Patrick J. McCall_ 30
THE KILDARE POOKA _Patrick Kennedy_ 38
THE PIPER AND THE PUCA _Douglas Hyde_ 42
MCCARTHY OF CONNACHT _B. Hunt_ 46
THE MAD PUDDING OF BALLYBOULTEEN _William Carleton_ 58
FRANK WEBBER'S WAGER _Charles Lever_ 72
SAM WHAM AND THE SAWMONT _Sir Samuel Ferguson_ 82
DARBY DOYLE'S VOYAGE TO QUEBEC _Thomas Ettingsall_ 84
BOB BURKE'S DUEL _Dr. Maginn_ 92
BILLY MALONEY'S TASTE OF LOVE AND GLORY _Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu_ 105
A PLEASANT JOURNEY _Charles Lever_ 123
THE BATTLE OF AUGHRIM _William Carleton_ 131
THE QUARE GANDER _Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu_ 139
THE THRUSH AND THE BLACKBIRD _Charles J. Kickham_ 148
THEIR LAST RACE _Frank Mathew_ 154
THE FIRST LORD LIFTINANT _William Percy French_ 159
THE BOAT'S SHARE _E. OE. Somerville and Martin Ross_ 167
"KING WILLIAM" _Charlotte O'Conor Eccles_ 179
QUIN'S RICK _Jane Barlow_ 200
MAELSHAUGHLINN AT THE FAIR _Padraic Colum_ 213
THE REV. J. J. MELDON AND THE CHIEF SECRETARY
_George A. Birmingham_ 220
OLD TUMMUS AND THE BATTLE OF SCARVA _Eleanor Alexander_ 235
THE GAME LEG _K. F. Purdon_ 244
TRINKET'S COLT _E. OE. Somerville and Martin Ross_ 258
THE WEE TEA TABLE _Shan Bullock_ 276
THE INTERPRETERS _George A. Birmingham_ 290
A TEST OF TRUTH _Jane Barlow_ 307
THE WISE WOMAN _John Stevenson_ 314
THE MEET OF THE BEAGLES _H. de Vere Stacpoole_ 324
THE BALLYGULLION CREAMERY SOCIETY, LIMITED _Lynn Doyle_ 336
AUTHORS REPRESENTED
PAGE
ALEXANDER, ELEANOR 235
BARLOW, JANE 200, 307
BIRMINGHAM, GEORGE A. 220, 290
BULLOCK, SHAN 276
CARLETON, WILLIAM 58, 131
COLUM, PADRAIC 213
DOYLE, LYNN 336
ECCLES, CHARLOTTE O'CONOR 179
ETTINGSALL, THOMAS 84
FERGUSON, SIR SAMUEL 82
FRENCH, WILLIAM PERCY 159
HUNT, B. 46
HYDE, DOUGLAS 42
KENNEDY, PATRICK 9, 38
KICKHAM, CHARLES JOSEPH 148
LE FANU, JOSEPH SHERIDAN 105, 139
LEVER, CHARLES 72, 123
LOVER, SAMUEL 18
MAGINN, DR. 1, 92
MATHEW, FRANK 154
MCCALL, PATRICK J. 30
PURDON, K. F. 244
SOMERVILLE, E. OE. AND ROSS, MARTIN 167, 258