Many of the professional prayer-men, or Fakirs, resort to the
_Tober-Breda_ during the pattern, and manage to obtain gifts and
contributions and all sorts of excellent things in exchange for their
prayers from the rich farmers and young girls, to whom they promise
good luck, and perhaps also a lover who will be handsome and young.
These Irish Fakirs, or sacred fraternity of beggars, lead a pleasant,
thoroughly idle life. They carry a wallet and a staff, and being looked
on as holy men endowed with strange spiritual gifts, they are entirely
supported by the voluntary gifts of the people, who firmly believe in
the mysterious efficacy of their prayers and blessings and prognostics
of luck.
One of these Fakirs towards the end of his life was glad to find
shelter in the poor-house. He was then eighty years of age, but a tall,
erect old man, with flowing white beard and hair, keen eyes, and of the
most venerable aspect.
A gentleman who saw him there, being much struck with his dignified and
remarkable appearance, induced him to tell the story of his life, which
was marked by several strange and curious incidents.
He said he was a farmer’s son, but from his earliest youth hated work,
and only liked to spend the long summer day lying on the grass gazing
up into the clouds dreaming and thinking where they were all sailing
to, and longing to float away with them to other lands.
Meanwhile his father raged and swore and beat him, often cruelly,
because he would not work. But all the same, he could not bring himself
to be digging from morning to night, and herding cattle, and keeping
company only with labourers.
So when he was about twenty he formed a plan to run away; for, he
thought, if the stupid old Fakirs who are lame and blind and deaf find
people ready to support them, all for nothing, might not he have a
better chance for getting board and lodging without work, since he had
youth and health and could tell them stories to no end of the great old
ancient times.
So one night he quitted his father’s house secretly, and went forth on
his travels into the wide world, only to meet bitter disappointment and
rude repulse, for the farmers would have nothing to say to him, nor the
farmers’ wives. Every one eyed him with suspicion. “Why,” they said,
“should a great stalwart young fellow over six feet high go about the
country begging? He was a tramp and meant no good.” And they chased him
away from their grounds.
Then he thought he would disguise himself as a regular Fakir; so he
got a long cloak, and took a wallet and a staff, and hid his raven
black hair under a close skull cap, and tried to look as old as he
could.
But the regular Fakirs soon found him out, and their spite and rage was
great, for all of them were either lame of a leg or blind of an eye,
and they said; “Why should this great broad-shouldered young fellow
with the black eyes come and take away our chances of living, when
he ought to be able to work and earn enough to keep himself without
robbing us of our just rights?” And they grumbled and snarled at him
like so many dogs, and set people to spy on him and watch him.
Still he was determined to try his luck on every side: so he went to
all the stations round about and prayed louder and faster than any
pilgrim or Fakir amongst the whole lot.
But wherever he went he saw a horrible old hag for ever following him.
Her head was wrapped up in an old red shawl, and nothing was seen
of her face except two eyes, that glared on him like coals of fire
whichever way he turned. And now, in truth, his life became miserable
to him because of this loathsome hag. So he went from station to
station to escape her; but still she followed him, and the sound of
her stick on the ground was ever after him like the hammering of a
nail into his coffin, for he felt sure he would die of the torment and
horror.
At last he thought he would try _Tobar-Breda_ for his next station, as
it was several miles off and she might not be able to follow him so
far. So he went, and not a sign of her was to be seen upon the road.
This rejoiced his heart, and he kneeled down at the well and was saying
his prayers louder and faster than ever when he looked up, and there,
kneeling right opposite to him at the other side of the road, was the
detestable old witch. But she took no notice of him, only went on
saying her prayers and telling her beads as if no one were by.
Presently, however, she stooped down to wash her face in the well,
and, as she threw up the water with her hands, she let the red shawl
slip down over her shoulders, and then the young man beheld to his
astonishment a beautiful young girl before him with a complexion like
the lily and the rose, and soft brown hair falling in showers of curls
over her snow-white neck.
He had only a glimpse for a moment while she cast the water in her
face, and then she drew the red shawl again over her head and shoulders
and was the old hag once more that had filled him with horror. But that
one glimpse was enough to make his heart faint with love; and now for
the first time she turned her burning eyes full on him, and kept them
fixed until he seemed to swoon away in an ecstacy of happiness, and
knew nothing more till he found her seated beside him, holding his hand
in hers, and still looking intently on his face with her glittering
eyes.
“Come away,” she whispered; “follow me. We must leave this crowd of
pilgrims. I have much to say to you.”
So he rose up, and they went away together to a secluded spot, far from
the noise and tumult of the station. Then she threw off the shawl, and
took the bandage from her face, and said, “Look on me. Can you love
me? I have followed you day by day for love of you. Can you love me in
return, and join your fate to mine? I have money enough for both, and
I’ll teach you the mysteries by which we can gain more.”
And from that day forth they two travelled together all over the
country; and they practised many strange mysteries and charms, for
Elaine, his wife, was learned in all the secrets of herb lore. And the
people paid them well for their help and knowledge, so that they never
wanted anything, and lived like princes, though never an evil act was
done by their hands, nor did a word of strife ever pass between them.
Thus they lived happily for many years, till an evil day came when
Elaine was struck by sickness, and she died.
Then the soul of the man seemed to die with her, and all his knowledge
left him, and sad and weary, and tired of all things, he finally came
to end his days in the poor-house, old, poor, and broken-hearted. Yet
still he had the bearing of one born for a higher destiny, and the
noble dignity as of a discrowned king.
Such was the strange story told to the gentleman by the aged Fakir in
the poor-house, a short time before his death.