Shemus Rua[28] (Red James) awakened from his sleep one night by noises
in his kitchen. Stealing to the door, he saw half-a-dozen old women
sitting round the fire, jesting and laughing, his old housekeeper,
Madge, quite frisky and gay, helping her sister crones to cheering
glasses of punch. He began to admire the impudence and imprudence of
Madge, displayed in the invitation and the riot, but recollected on
the instant her officiousness in urging him to take a comfortable
posset, which she had brought to his bedside just before he fell
asleep. Had he drunk it, he would have been just now deaf to the
witches' glee. He heard and saw them drink his health in such a
mocking style as nearly to tempt him to charge them, besom in hand,
but he restrained himself.
The jug being emptied, one of them cried out, "Is it time to be gone?"
and at the same moment, putting on a red cap, she added--
"By yarrow and rue,
And my red cap too,
Hie over to England."
Making use of a twig which she held in her hand as a steed, she
gracefully soared up the chimney, and was rapidly followed by the
rest. But when it came to the housekeeper, Shemus interposed. "By your
leave, ma'am," said he, snatching twig and cap. "Ah, you desateful
ould crocodile! If I find you here on my return, there'll be wigs on
the green--
'By yarrow and rue,
And my red cap too,
Hie over to England.'"
The words were not out of his mouth when he was soaring above the
ridge pole, and swiftly ploughing the air. He was careful to speak no
word (being somewhat conversant with witch-lore), as the result would
be a tumble, and the immediate return of the expedition.
In a very short time they had crossed the Wicklow hills, the Irish
Sea, and the Welsh mountains, and were charging, at whirlwind speed,
the hall door of a castle. Shemus, only for the company in which he
found himself, would have cried out for pardon, expecting to be
_mummy_ against the hard oak door in a moment; but, all bewildered, he
found himself passing through the key-hole, along a passage, down a
flight of steps, and through a cellar-door key-hole before he could
form any clear idea of his situation.
Waking to the full consciousness of his position, he found himself
sitting on a stillion, plenty of lights glimmering round, and he and
his companions, with full tumblers of frothing wine in hand,
hob-nobbing and drinking healths as jovially and recklessly as if the
liquor was honestly come by, and they were sitting in _Shemus's_ own
kitchen. The red birredh[29] had assimilated _Shemus's_ nature for the
time being to that of his unholy companions. The heady liquors soon
got into their brains, and a period of unconsciousness succeeded the
ecstasy, the head-ache, the turning round of the barrels, and the
"scattered sight" of poor Shemus. He woke up under the impression of
being roughly seized, and shaken, and dragged upstairs, and subjected
to a disagreeable examination by the lord of the castle, in his state
parlour. There was much derision among the whole company, gentle and
simple, on hearing Shemus's explanation, and, as the thing occurred in
the dark ages, the unlucky Leinster man was sentenced to be hung as
soon as the gallows could be prepared for the occasion.
The poor Hibernian was in the cart proceeding on his last journey,
with a label on his back, and another on his breast, announcing him as
the remorseless villain who for the last month had been draining the
casks in my lord's vault every night. He was surprised to hear himself
addressed by his name, and in his native tongue, by an old woman in
the crowd. "Ach, Shemus, alanna! is it going to die you are in a
strange place without your _cappeen d'yarrag_?"[30] These words
infused hope and courage into the poor victim's heart. He turned to
the lord and humbly asked leave to die in his red cap, which he
supposed had dropped from his head in the vault. A servant was sent
for the head-piece, and Shemus felt lively hope warming his heart
while placing it on his head. On the platform he was graciously
allowed to address the spectators, which he proceeded to do in the
usual formula composed for the benefit of flying stationers--"Good
people all, a warning take by me;" but when he had finished the line,
"My parents reared me tenderly," he unexpectedly added--"By yarrow and
rue," etc., and the disappointed spectators saw him shoot up obliquely
through the air in the style of a sky-rocket that had missed its aim.
It is said that the lord took the circumstance much to heart, and
never afterwards hung a man for twenty-four hours after his offence.
[Footnote 27: _Fictions of the Irish Celts._]
[Footnote 28: Irish, _Séumus Ruadh_. The Celtic vocal organs are
unable to pronounce the letter j, hence they make Shon or Shawn of
John, or Shamus of James, etc.]
[Footnote 29: Ir., _Birreud_--_i.e._, a cap.]
[Footnote 30: Irish, _caipín dearg_--_i.e._, red cap.]