About the commencement of the last century there lived in the vicinity
of the once famous village of Aghavoe[22] a wealthy farmer, named
Bryan Costigan. This man kept an extensive dairy and a great many
milch cows, and every year made considerable sums by the sale of milk
and butter. The luxuriance of the pasture lands in this neighbourhood
has always been proverbial; and, consequently, Bryan's cows were the
finest and most productive in the country, and his milk and butter the
richest and sweetest, and brought the highest price at every market at
which he offered these articles for sale.
Things continued to go on thus prosperously with Bryan Costigan, when,
one season, all at once, he found his cattle declining in appearance,
and his dairy almost entirely profitless. Bryan, at first, attributed
this change to the weather, or some such cause, but soon found or
fancied reasons to assign it to a far different source. The cows,
without any visible disorder, daily declined, and were scarcely able
to crawl about on their pasture: many of them, instead of milk, gave
nothing but blood; and the scanty quantity of milk which some of them
continued to supply was so bitter that even the pigs would not drink
it; whilst the butter which it produced was of such a bad quality, and
stunk so horribly, that the very dogs would not eat it. Bryan applied
for remedies to all the quacks and "fairy-women" in the country--but
in vain. Many of the impostors declared that the mysterious malady in
his cattle went beyond _their_ skill; whilst others, although they
found no difficulty in tracing it to superhuman agency, declared that
they had no control in the matter, as the charm under the influence of
which his property was made away with, was too powerful to be
dissolved by anything less than the special interposition of Divine
Providence. The poor farmer became almost distracted; he saw ruin
staring him in the face; yet what was he to do? Sell his cattle and
purchase others! No; that was out of the question, as they looked so
miserable and emaciated, that no one would even take them as a
present, whilst it was also impossible to sell to a butcher, as the
flesh of one which he killed for his own family was as black as a
coal, and stunk like any putrid carrion.
The unfortunate man was thus completely bewildered. He knew not what
to do; he became moody and stupid; his sleep forsook him by night,
and all day he wandered about the fields, amongst his "fairy-stricken"
cattle like a maniac.
Affairs continued in this plight, when one very sultry evening in the
latter days of July, Bryan Costigan's wife was sitting at her own
door, spinning at her wheel, in a very gloomy and agitated state of
mind. Happening to look down the narrow green lane which led from the
high road to her cabin, she espied a little old woman barefoot, and
enveloped in an old scarlet cloak, approaching slowly, with the aid of
a crutch which she carried in one hand, and a cane or walking-stick in
the other. The farmer's wife felt glad at seeing the odd-looking
stranger; she smiled, and yet she knew not why, as she neared the
house. A vague and indefinable feeling of pleasure crowded on her
imagination; and, as the old woman gained the threshold, she bade her
"welcome" with a warmth which plainly told that her lips gave
utterance but to the genuine feelings of her heart.
"God bless this good house and all belonging to it," said the stranger
as she entered.
"God save you kindly, and you are welcome, whoever you are," replied
Mrs. Costigan.
"Hem, I thought so," said the old woman with a significant grin. "I
thought so, or I wouldn't trouble you."
The farmer's wife ran, and placed a chair near the fire for the
stranger; but she refused, and sat on the ground near where Mrs. C.
had been spinning. Mrs. Costigan had now time to survey the old hag's
person minutely. She appeared of great age; her countenance was
extremely ugly and repulsive; her skin was rough and deeply embrowned
as if from long exposure to the effects of some tropical climate; her
forehead was low, narrow, and indented with a thousand wrinkles; her
long grey hair fell in matted elf-locks from beneath a white linen
skull-cap; her eyes were bleared, blood-shotten, and obliquely set in
their sockets, and her voice was croaking, tremulous, and, at times,
partially inarticulate. As she squatted on the floor, she looked round
the house with an inquisitive gaze; she peered pryingly from corner
to corner, with an earnestness of look, as if she had the faculty,
like the Argonaut of old, to see through the very depths of the earth,
whilst Mrs. C. kept watching her motions with mingled feelings of
curiosity, awe, and pleasure.
"Mrs.," said the old woman, at length breaking silence, "I am dry with
the heat of the day; can you give me a drink?"
"Alas!" replied the farmer's wife, "I have no drink to offer you
except water, else you would have no occasion to ask me for it."
"Are you not the owner of the cattle I see yonder?" said the old hag,
with a tone of voice and manner of gesticulation which plainly
indicated her foreknowledge of the fact.
Mrs. Costigan replied in the affirmative, and briefly related to her
every circumstance connected with the affair, whilst the old woman
still remained silent, but shook her grey head repeatedly; and still
continued gazing round the house with an air of importance and
self-sufficiency.
When Mrs. C. had ended, the old hag remained a while as if in a deep
reverie: at length she said--
"Have you any of the milk in the house?"
"I have," replied the other.
"Show me some of it."
She filled a jug from a vessel and handed it to the old sybil, who
smelled it, then tasted it, and spat out what she had taken on the
floor.
"Where is your husband?" she asked.
"Out in the fields," was the reply.
"I must see him."
A messenger was despatched for Bryan, who shortly after made his
appearance.
"Neighbour," said the stranger, "your wife informs me that your cattle
are going against you this season."
"She informs you right," said Bryan.
"And why have you not sought a cure?"
"A cure!" re-echoed the man; "why, woman, I have sought cures until I
was heart-broken, and all in vain; they get worse every day."
"What will you give me if I cure them for you?"
"Anything in our power," replied Bryan and his wife, both speaking
joyfully, and with a breath.
"All I will ask from you is a silver sixpence, and that you will do
everything which I will bid you," said she.
The farmer and his wife seemed astonished at the moderation of her
demand. They offered her a large sum of money.
"No," said she, "I don't want your money; I am no cheat, and I would
not even take sixpence, but that I can do nothing till I handle some
of your silver."
The sixpence was immediately given her, and the most implicit
obedience promised to her injunctions by both Bryan and his wife, who
already began to regard the old beldame as their tutelary angel.
The hag pulled off a black silk ribbon or fillet which encircled her
head inside her cap, and gave it to Bryan, saying--
"Go, now, and the first cow you touch with this ribbon, turn her into
the yard, but be sure don't touch the second, nor speak a word until
you return; be also careful not to let the ribbon touch the ground,
for, if you do, all is over."
Bryan took the talismanic ribbon, and soon returned, driving a red cow
before him.
The old hag went out, and, approaching the cow, commenced pulling hairs
out of her tail, at the same time singing some verses in the Irish
language in a low, wild, and unconnected strain. The cow appeared
restive and uneasy, but the old witch still continued her mysterious
chant until she had the ninth hair extracted. She then ordered the cow
to be drove back to her pasture, and again entered the house.
"Go, now," said she to the woman, "and bring me some milk from every
cow in your possession."
She went, and soon returned with a large pail filled with a
frightful-looking mixture of milk, blood, and corrupt matter. The old
woman got it into the churn, and made preparations for churning.
"Now," she said, "you both must churn, make fast the door and
windows, and let there be no light but from the fire; do not open your
lips until I desire you, and by observing my directions, I make no
doubt but, ere the sun goes down, we will find out the infernal
villain who is robbing you."
Bryan secured the doors and windows, and commenced churning. The old
sorceress sat down by a blazing fire which had been specially lighted
for the occasion, and commenced singing the same wild song which she
had sung at the pulling of the cow-hairs, and after a little time she
cast one of the nine hairs into the fire, still singing her mysterious
strain, and watching, with intense interest, the witching process.
A loud cry, as if from a female in distress, was now heard approaching
the house; the old witch discontinued her incantations, and listened
attentively. The crying voice approached the door.
"Open the door quickly," shouted the charmer.
Bryan unbarred the door, and all three rushed out in the yard, when
they heard the same cry down the _boreheen_, but could see nothing.
"It is all over," shouted the old witch; "something has gone amiss,
and our charm for the present is ineffectual."
They now turned back quite crestfallen, when, as they were entering
the door, the sybil cast her eyes downwards, and perceiving a piece of
horseshoe nailed on the threshold,[23] she vociferated--
"Here I have it; no wonder our charm was abortive. The person that was
crying abroad is the villain who has your cattle bewitched; I brought
her to the house, but she was not able to come to the door on account
of that horseshoe. Remove it instantly, and we will try our luck again."
Bryan removed the horseshoe from the doorway, and by the hag's
directions placed it on the floor under the churn, having previously
reddened it in the fire.
They again resumed their manual operations. Bryan and his wife began
to churn, and the witch again to sing her strange verses, and casting
her cow-hairs into the fire until she had them all nearly exhausted.
Her countenance now began to exhibit evident traces of vexation and
disappointment. She got quite pale, her teeth gnashed, her hand
trembled, and as she cast the ninth and last hair into the fire, her
person exhibited more the appearance of a female demon than of a human
being.
Once more the cry was heard, and an aged red-haired woman[24] was seen
approaching the house quickly.
"Ho, ho!" roared the sorceress, "I knew it would be so; my charm has
succeeded; my expectations are realised, and here she comes, the
villain who has destroyed you."
"What are we to do now?" asked Bryan.
"Say nothing to her," said the hag; "give her whatever she demands,
and leave the rest to me."
The woman advanced screeching vehemently, and Bryan went out to meet
her. She was a neighbour, and she said that one of her best cows was
drowning in a pool of water--that there was no one at home but
herself, and she implored Bryan to go rescue the cow from destruction.
Bryan accompanied her without hesitation; and having rescued the cow
from her perilous situation, was back again in a quarter of an hour.
It was now sunset, and Mrs. Costigan set about preparing supper.
During supper they reverted to the singular transactions of the day.
The old witch uttered many a fiendish laugh at the success of her
incantations, and inquired who was the woman whom they had so
curiously discovered.
Bryan satisfied her in every particular. She was the wife of a
neighbouring farmer; her name was Rachel Higgins; and she had been
long suspected to be on familiar terms with the spirit of darkness.
She had five or six cows; but it was observed by her sapient
neighbours that she sold more butter every year than other farmers'
wives who had twenty. Bryan had, from the commencement of the decline
in his cattle, suspected her for being the aggressor, but as he had no
proof, he held his peace.
"Well," said the old beldame, with a grim smile, "it is not enough
that we have merely discovered the robber; all is in vain, if we do
not take steps to punish her for the past, as well as to prevent her
inroads for the future."
"And how will that be done?" said Bryan.
"I will tell you; as soon as the hour of twelve o'clock arrives
to-night, do you go to the pasture, and take a couple of swift-running
dogs with you; conceal yourself in some place convenient to the
cattle; watch them carefully; and if you see anything, whether man or
beast, approach the cows, set on the dogs, and if possible make them
draw the blood of the intruder; then ALL will be accomplished. If
nothing approaches before sunrise, you may return, and we will try
something else."
Convenient there lived the cow-herd of a neighbouring squire. He was a
hardy, courageous young man, and always kept a pair of very ferocious
bull-dogs. To him Bryan applied for assistance, and he cheerfully
agreed to accompany him, and, moreover, proposed to fetch a couple of
his master's best greyhounds, as his own dogs, although extremely
fierce and bloodthirsty, could not be relied on for swiftness. He
promised Bryan to be with him before twelve o'clock, and they parted.
Bryan did not seek sleep that night; he sat up anxiously awaiting the
midnight hour. It arrived at last, and his friend, the herdsman, true
to his promise, came at the time appointed. After some further
admonitions from the _Collough_, they departed. Having arrived at the
field, they consulted as to the best position they could chose for
concealment. At last they pitched on a small brake of fern, situated
at the extremity of the field, adjacent to the boundary ditch, which
was thickly studded with large, old white-thorn bushes. Here they
crouched themselves, and made the dogs, four in number, lie down
beside them, eagerly expecting the appearance of their as yet unknown
and mysterious visitor.
Here Bryan and his comrade continued a considerable time in nervous
anxiety, still nothing approached, and it became manifest that morning
was at hand; they were beginning to grow impatient, and were talking
of returning home, when on a sudden they heard a rushing sound behind
them, as if proceeding from something endeavouring to force a passage
through the thick hedge in their rear. They looked in that direction,
and judge of their astonishment, when they perceived a large hare in
the act of springing from the ditch, and leaping on the ground quite
near them. They were now convinced that this was the object which they
had so impatiently expected, and they were resolved to watch her
motions narrowly.
After arriving to the ground, she remained motionless for a few
moments, looking around her sharply. She then began to skip and jump
in a playful manner; now advancing at a smart pace towards the cows,
and again retreating precipitately, but still drawing nearer and
nearer at each sally. At length she advanced up to the next cow, and
sucked her for a moment; then on to the next, and so respectively to
every cow on the field--the cows all the time lowing loudly, and
appearing extremely frightened and agitated. Bryan, from the moment
the hare commenced sucking the first, was with difficulty restrained
from attacking her; but his more sagacious companion suggested to him,
that it was better to wait until she would have done, as she would
then be much heavier, and more unable to effect her escape than at
present. And so the issue proved; for being now done sucking them all,
her belly appeared enormously distended, and she made her exit slowly
and apparently with difficulty. She advanced towards the hedge where
she had entered, and as she arrived just at the clump of ferns where
her foes were couched, they started up with a fierce yell, and
hallooed the dogs upon her path.
The hare started off at a brisk pace, squirting up the milk she had
sucked from her mouth and nostrils, and the dogs making after her
rapidly. Rachel Higgins's cabin appeared, through the grey of the
morning twilight, at a little distance; and it was evident that puss
seemed bent on gaining it, although she made a considerable circuit
through the fields in the rear. Bryan and his comrade, however, had
their thoughts, and made towards the cabin by the shortest route, and
had just arrived as the hare came up, panting and almost exhausted,
and the dogs at her very scut. She ran round the house, evidently
confused and disappointed at the presence of the men, but at length
made for the door. In the bottom of the door was a small, semicircular
aperture, resembling those cut in fowl-house doors for the ingress and
egress of poultry. To gain this hole, puss now made a last and
desperate effort, and had succeeded in forcing her head and shoulders
through it, when the foremost of the dogs made a spring and seized her
violently by the haunch. She uttered a loud and piercing scream, and
struggled desperately to free herself from his gripe, and at last
succeeded, but not until she left a piece of her rump in his teeth.
The men now burst open the door; a bright turf fire blazed on the
hearth, and the whole floor was streaming with blood. No hare,
however, could be found, and the men were more than ever convinced
that it was old Rachel, who had, by the assistance of some demon,
assumed the form of the hare, and they now determined to have her if
she were over the earth. They entered the bedroom, and heard some
smothered groaning, as if proceeding from some one in extreme agony.
They went to the corner of the room from whence the moans proceeded,
and there, beneath a bundle of freshly-cut rushes, found the form of
Rachel Higgins, writhing in the most excruciating agony, and almost
smothered in a pool of blood. The men were astounded; they addressed
the wretched old woman, but she either could not, or would not answer
them. Her wound still bled copiously; her tortures appeared to
increase, and it was evident that she was dying. The aroused family
thronged around her with cries and lamentations; she did not seem to
heed them, she got worse and worse, and her piercing yells fell
awfully on the ears of the bystanders. At length she expired, and her
corpse exhibited a most appalling spectacle, even before the spirit
had well departed.
Bryan and his friend returned home. The old hag had been previously
aware of the fate of Rachel Higgins, but it was not known by what
means she acquired her supernatural knowledge. She was delighted at
the issue of her mysterious operations. Bryan pressed her much to
accept of some remuneration for her services, but she utterly rejected
such proposals. She remained a few days at his house, and at length
took her leave and departed, no one knew whither.
Old Rachel's remains were interred that night in the neighbouring
churchyard. Her fate soon became generally known, and her family,
ashamed to remain in their native village, disposed of their property,
and quitted the country for ever. The story, however, is still fresh
in the memory of the surrounding villagers; and often, it is said,
amid the grey haze of a summer twilight, may the ghost of Rachel
Higgins, in the form of a hare, be seen scudding over her favourite
and well-remembered haunts.
[Footnote 21: _Dublin University Magazine, 1839._]
[Footnote 22: _Aghavoe_--"the field of kine"--a beautiful and romantic
village near Borris-in-Ossory, in the Queen's County. It was once a
place of considerable importance, and for centuries the episcopal seat
of the diocese of Ossory, but for ages back it has gone to decay, and
is now remarkable for nothing but the magnificent ruins of a priory of
the Dominicans, erected here at an early period by St. Canice, the
patron saint of Ossory.]
[Footnote 23: It was once a common practice in Ireland to nail a piece
of horseshoe on the threshold of the door, as a preservative against
the influence of the fairies, who, it is thought, dare not enter any
house thus guarded. This custom, however, is much on the wane, but
still it is prevalent in some of the more uncivilised districts of the
country.]
[Footnote 24: Red-haired people are thought to possess magic power.]