When they met at a “pattern,” (patron, perhaps,) or merry-making, the
lively dance of the girls, and the galloping jig-note of the bagpipes,
usually gave place to the clattering of alpeens, and the whoops of
onslaught; when one of them sold his pig, or, under Providence, his cow,
at the fair, the kicking up of a “scrimmage,” or at least the plunging
head foremost into one, was as much matter of course as the long
draughts of ale or whiskey that closed his mercantile transaction. At
the village hurling-match, the “hurlet,” or crooked stick, with which
they struck the ball, often changed its playful utility; nay, at a
funeral, the body was scarce laid in the grave, when the voice of petty
discord might be heard above the grave’s silence.
These contentions, like all great events, generally arose from very
trivial causes. A drunken fellow, for instance, was in a strange
public-house; he could not content himself with the new faces near him,
so struck at some three, six, or ten, as it might be; and, in course,
got soundly drubbed. On his return home he related his case of injury,
exhibiting his closed eye, battered mouth, or remnant of nose; enlisting
all his relatives, “kith-and-kin;” in fact, all his neighbours who liked
“a bit of diversion,” and they generally included the whole male
population able to bear arms. At the head of his faction he attended the
next fair, or other place of popular resort, where he might expect to
meet his foes; the noise of his muster went abroad, or he sent a
previous challenge: the opposite party assembled in as much force as
possible, never declining the encounter; one or other side was beaten,
and tried to avenge its disgrace on the first opportunity; defeat again
followed, and again produced like efforts and results; and thus the
solemn feud ran through a number of years and several generations.
A wicked, “devil-may-care” fellow, feverish for sport, would, at fair,
pattern, or funeral, sometimes smite another without any provocation,
merely to create a riot; the standers-by would take different sides, as
their taste or connections inclined them; and the fray, thus commencing
between two individuals who owed each other no ill-will, embroiled half
the assembled concourse. Nay, a youth, in despair that so fine a
multitude was likely to separate peaceably, stripped off his heavy
outside coat, and trailed it through the puddle, daring any of the
lookers on to tread upon it; his defiance was rarely ineffectual; he
knocked down, if possible, the invited offender; a general battle
ensued, that soon spread like wild-fire, and every “alpeen” was at work
in senseless clatter and unimaginable hostility.
The occurrence of the word “alpeen” seems to suggest a description of
the weapon of which it is the name, and this can best be given in a
piece of biographical anecdote.
Jack Mullally still lives in fame, though his valiant bones are dust. He
was the landlord of a public-house in a mountain district; a chivalrous
fellow, a righter of wrongs, the leader of a faction of desperate
fighting men, and, like Arthur, with his doughty knights, a match for
any four among them, though each a hero; and, above all, the armourer of
his department. In Jack’s chimney-corner hung bundles of sticks,
suspended there for the purpose of being dried and seasoned; and these
were of two descriptions of warlike weapons; shortish oaken cudgels, to
be used as quarter-staves, or, _par excellence_, genuine shillelaghs;
and the alpeens themselves,--long wattles with heavy knobs at the ends,
to be wielded with both hands, and competent, under good guidance, to
the felling of a reasonable ox.
Jack and his subjects, Jack and his alpeens, were rarely absent from any
fair within twenty miles, having always business on hands in the way of
their association. When a skirmish took place, the side that could
enlist in its interests Jack, his alpeens, and his merry men, was sure
of victory. The patriarch was generally to be found seated by his
kitchen fire; business was beneath him; he left all that to the
“vanithee;” and his hours lapsed, when matters of moment did not warn
him to the field, either in wetting his sticks with a damp cloth, and
then heating them over the turf blaze, to give them the proper curve;
or, in teaching a pet starling to speak Irish, and whistle “Shaun Buoy;”
or, haply, in imbibing his own ale or whiskey, and smoking his short
black pipe, or _doohdeen_, as himself termed it. And here he gave
audience to the numerous suitors and ambassadors who, day by day, came
to seek his aid, preparatory to a concerted engagement. His answer was
never hastily rendered. He promised, at all events, to be with his corps
at the appointed ground; and then and there he would proclaim of which
side he was the ally. This precautionary course became the more
advisable, as he was always sure of a request from both factions; and
time, forethought, and inquiry, were necessary to ascertain which side
might prove the weakest; for to the weakest (the most aggrieved formed
no part of his calculations) Jack invariably extended his patronage.
The _vanithee_, good woman, when she heard of an approaching fair, or
other popular meeting, immediately set about preparing plasters and
ointments; and this resulted from a thrifty forecast; for were she to
call in a doctor every time her husband’s head wanted piecing, it would
run away with the profits of her business. Jack, indeed, never forgot
his dignity so far as to inform his wife that he intended being engaged
on such occasions; but she always took it for granted, and with the
bustle of a good housewife, set about her preparations accordingly:
till, at length, a breach happened in his skull which set her art at
defiance; and ever since she lives the sole proprietor of the
public-house where Jack once reigned in glory. The poor widow has
thriven since her husband’s death; and is now rich, not having lately
had Jack’s assistance in spending, (she never had it in earning.) She
recounts his exploits with modest spirit; and one blessing at least has
resulted from her former matronly care of the good man--she is the Lady
Bountiful of her district; a quack it may be, yet sufficiently skilful
for the uncomplicated ailments of her country customers.[201]
[201] Tales of the O’Hara Family. _First Series._
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