Page 129. There are two other versions of this story, one a rather
evaporated one, filtered through English, told by Kennedy, in which the
Dall Glic is a wise old hermit; and another, and much better one, by
Curtin. The Dall Glic, wise blind man, figures in several stories which I
have got, as the king’s counsellor. I do not remember ever meeting him in
our literature. Bwee-sownee, the name of the king’s castle, is, I think,
a place in Mayo, and probably would be better written Buiḋe-ṫaṁnaiġ.
Page 131. This beautiful lady in red silk, who thus appears to the
prince, and who comes again to him at the end of the story, is a curious
creation of folk fancy. She may personify good fortune. There is nothing
about her in the two parallel stories from Curtin and Kennedy.
Page 133. This “tight-loop” (lúb teann) can hardly be a bow, since the
ordinary word for that is _bógha_; but it may, perhaps, be a name for a
cross-bow.
Page 136. The story is thus invested with a moral, for it is the prince’s
piety in giving what was asked of him in the honour of God which enabled
the queen to find him out, and eventually marry him.
Page 137. In the story of Cailleaċ na fiacaile fada, in my Leabhar
Sgeuluigheachta, not translated in this book, an old hag makes a boat out
of a thimble, which she throws into the water, as the handsome lady does
here.
Page 141. This incident of the ladder is not in Curtin’s story, which
makes the brothers mount the queen’s horse and get thrown. There is a
very curious account of a similar ladder in the story of the “Slender
Grey Kerne,” of which I possess a good MS., made by a northern scribe in
1763. The passage is of interest, because it represents a trick something
almost identical with which I have heard Colonel Olcott, the celebrated
American theosophist lecturer, say he saw Indian jugglers frequently
performing. Colonel Olcott, who came over to examine Irish fairy lore
in the light of theosophic science, was of opinion that these men could
bring a person under their power so as to make him imagine that he saw
whatever the juggler wished him to see. He especially mentioned this
incident of making people see a man going up a ladder. The MS., of which
I may as well give the original, runs thus:—
Iar sin ṫug an ceiṫearnaċ mála amaċ ó na asgoill, agus ṫug ceirtle ṡíoda
amaċ as a ṁála, agus do ṫeilg suas i ḃfriṫing na fiormamuinte í, agas do
rinne drémire ḋí, agus ṫug gearrḟiaḋ amaċ arís agus do leig suas annsa
dréimire é. Ṫug gaḋar cluais-dearg amaċ arís agus do leig suas anḋiaiġ an
ġearrḟiaḋ é. Tug cu faiteaċ foluaimneaċ amaċ agus do leig suas anḋiaiġ an
ġearrḟiaḋ agus an ġaḋair í, agus a duḃairt, is ḃao(ġ)laċ liom, air sé, go
n-íosfaiḋ an gaḋar agus an cú an gearrḟiaḋ, agus ni mór liom anacal do
ċur air an gearrḟiaḋ. Ṫug ann sin ógánaċ deas a n-eideaḋ ró ṁaiṫ amaċ as
an mála agus do leig suas anḋiaiġ an ġearrfiaḋ agus an ġaḋair agus na con
é. Ṫug cailín áluind a n-éidead ró ḋeas amaċ as an mála agus do leig suas
anḋiaiġ an ġearrḟaiḋ an ġaḋair an ógánaiġ agus na con í.
Is dona do éiriġ ḋaṁ anois, ar an Ceiṫearnaċ óir atá an t-óganaċ aig
dul ag pógaḋ mo ṁná agus an cú aig creim an ġearrḟiaḋ. Do ṫarraing an
Ceiṫearnaċ an dréimire anuas, agus do fuair an t-ógánaċ fairre(?) an
mnaoi agus an cu aig creim an ġearrḟiaḋ aṁuil a duḃairt, i.e., after that
the kerne took out a bag from under his arm-pit and he brought out a
ball of silk from the bag, and he threw it up into the expanse(?) of the
firmament, and it became a ladder; and again he took out a hare and let
it up the ladder. Again he took out a red-eared hound and let it up after
the hare. Again he took out a timid frisking dog, and he let her up after
the hare and the hound, and said, “I am afraid,” said he, “the hound and
the dog will eat the hare, and I think I ought to send some relief to the
hare.” Then he took out of the bag a handsome youth in excellent apparel,
and he let him up after the hare and the hound and the dog. He took out
of the bag a lovely girl in beautiful attire, and he let her up after the
hare, the hound, the youth, and the dog.
“It’s badly it happened to me now,” says the kerne, “for the youth is
going kissing my woman, and the dog gnawing the hare.” The kerne drew
down the ladder again and he found the youth “going along with the woman,
and the dog gnawing the hare,” as he said.
The English “Jack and the Beanstalk” is about the best-known ladder story.
Page 141. This story was not invented to explain the existence of the
twelve tribes of Galway, as the absence of any allusion to them in all
the parallel versions proves; but the application of it to them is
evidently the brilliant afterthought of some Galwegian shanachie.