Irish history having been forbidden in schools, has been, to a great
extent, learned from Raftery's poems by the people of Mayo, where he was
born, and of Galway, where he spent his later years. It is hard to say
where history ends in them and religion and politics begin; for history,
religion, and politics grow on one stem in Ireland, an eternal trefoil.
'He was a great historian,' it is said; 'for every book he'd get hold
of, he'd get it read out to him.' And a neighbour tells me: 'He used to
stop with my uncle that was a hedge schoolmaster in those times in
Ballylee, and that was very fond of drink; and when he was drunk, he'd
take his clothes off, and run naked through the country. But at evening
he'd open the school; and the neighbours that would be working all day
would gather in to him, and he'd teach them through the night; and there
Raftery would be in the middle of them.' His chief historical poem is
the 'Talk with the Bush,' of over three hundred lines. Many of the
people can repeat it, or a part of it, and some possess it in
manuscript. The bush, a forerunner of the 'Talking Oak' or the 'Father
of the Forest,' gives its recollections, which go back to the times of
the Firbolgs, the Tuatha De Danaan, 'without heart, without humanity';
the Sons of the Gael; the heroic Fianna, who 'would never put more than
one man to fight against one'; Cuchulain 'of the Grey Sword, that broke
every gap'; till at last it comes to 'O'Rourke's wife that brought a
blow to Ireland': for it was on her account the English were first
called in. Then come the crimes of the English, made redder by the crime
of Martin Luther. Henry VIII 'turned his back on God and denied his
first wife.' Elizabeth 'routed the bishops and the Irish Church. James
and Charles laid sharp scourges on Ireland.... Then Cromwell and his
hosts swept through Ireland, cutting before him all he could. He gave
estates and lands to Cromwellians, and he put those that had a right to
them on mountains.' Whenever he brings history into his poems, the same
strings are touched. 'At the great judgment, Cromwell will be hiding,
and O'Neill in the corner. And I think if William can manage it at all,
he won't stand his ground against Sarsfield.' And a moral often comes at
the end, such as: 'Don't be without courage, but join together; God is
stronger than the Cromwellians, and the cards may turn yet.'
For Raftery had lived through the '98 Rebellion, and the struggle for
Catholic Emancipation; and he saw the Tithe War, and the Repeal
movement; and it is natural that his poems, like those of the poets
before him, should reflect the desire of his people for 'the mayntenance
of their own lewde libertye,' that had troubled Spenser in his time.
Here are some verses from his '_Cuis da ple_,' 'cause to plead,'
composed at the time of the Tithe War:--
'The two provinces of Munster are afoot, and will not stop till
tithes are overthrown, and rents accordingly; and if help were
given them, and we to stand by Ireland, the English guard would be
feeble, and every gap made easy. The Gall (English) will be on
their back without ever returning again; and the Orangemen bruised
in the borders of every town, a judge and jury in the courthouse
for the Catholics, England dead, and the crown upon the Gael....
'There is many a fine man at this time sentenced, from Cork to
Ennis and the town of Roscrea, and fair-haired boys wandering and
departing from the streets of Kilkenny to Bantry Bay. But the cards
will turn, and we'll have a good hand: the trump shall stand on the
board we play at.... Let ye have courage. It is a fine story I
have. Ye shall gain the day in every quarter from the Sassanach.
Strike ye the board, and the cards will be coming to you. Drink out
of hand now a health to Raftery: it is he would put success for you
on the _Cuis da ple_.'