the heavens and the earth"; and they sung the most melodious strains of
praise and adoration. Macaomh Og was listening, and in the morning early
he came to the Lake of the Birds. Coming close to the shore, he asked
them, were they the children of Lir?
"We are, indeed," they answered.
"I am most thankful to hear it," said he, "for it was to relieve you
that I was sent to this island, rather than to any other part of
Ireland."
On hearing these words the children of Lir came to the shore, and
depended on his word. He took them down to his residence, where they
remained listening to his instructions and joining in his devotions day
after day. Macaomh Og sent for a craftsman and desired him to make two
silver chains, which he accordingly did. One of them he put between
Eugene and Fingula, and the other between Cornu and Fiacra.
The king who governed Conact at that time was named Lairgnean, the son
of Colman (the same of whom Fingula had spoken to her father on the Lake
of the Speckled Oak), and his queen's name was Deocha, the daughter of
Ingri, son of Black Hugh. Deocha came to hear of the wonderful birds,
and, being seized with a violent desire of possessing them, requested
the king to procure them for her. He replied that he could never
persuade himself to ask Macaomh Og to give them up. Deocha, enraged at
his refusal, declared that she never again would spend a night within
the palace of Glairgnea, as the king's residence was called, unless she
got the swans; and, leaving the palace, she travelled to Kill da Luadh
(now called Killaloe) and took up her abode at her own home. When
Lairgnean found her so resolute, he sent a messenger three several times
for the birds, but could not obtain them. Then he came himself to
Macaomh Og, and asked him if it were true he had refused his messengers.
"It is true," answered Macaomh Og.
"Then," said the king, "it is true, likewise, that I will take them with
me whether you are willing or otherwise."
As he said this he rushed toward the altar near which they stood, and
seized the two chains which coupled them together. No sooner had he done
so, than the swans lost their plumage, their beautiful feathers
disappeared, and the three sons of Lir appeared three withered old men,
with their bones seeming to project through their skin; while Fingula,
instead of the graceful swan that sung such enchanting strains, became
an old shrivelled hag, fleshless and bloodless. The King let fall the
chains, and returned home, while Macaomh Og uttered many lamentations
after the birds, and pronounced a malediction on Lairgnean. Fingula then
said:--
"Come hither, holy father, and give us baptism, for we are as much
concerned at parting with you as you in parting with us. You are to bury
us together in this manner. Place Cornu and Fiacra at my back, and
place Eugene before me"; and she again said, "Baptize us, holy father,
and make us happy."
After that they departed this life, and the children of Lir were buried
by Macaomh Og as Fingula had desired. He raised the earth in the form of
a tomb, and placed a stone over them, on which he carved their names in
the Ogham character, and wept bitterly above their grave. It is thought
that their souls went to heaven. For Lairgnean, who was the immediate
cause of their death, Macaomh Og predicted his fate in the following
lines:--
Ill shoot of Colman's royal line,
The malison of heaven is thine,
The grief which thou hast caused to mine,
Thine own cold heart shall feel,
Thou whose unholy zeal
Hath left me on this isle forlorn,
My cherished darlings' loss to mourn.
And she whose soul, in evil strong,
Hath prompted this unfeeling wrong,
To early dust consigned, shall long
Her fruitless rapine wail,
A shivering spectre pale!
The malison of heaven is thine,
Ill shoot of Colman's royal line!
Not long after, Lairgnean and his wife died a sudden death, according to
the prediction of Macaomh Og, which concludes the history of the Swans
of Lir.
[Illustration]
A NIGHT IN A WORKHOUSE.
BY JAMES GREENWOOD.
At about nine o'clock on the evening of Monday the --th instant, a neat
but unpretentious carriage might have been seen turning cautiously from
the Kennington Road into Princes Road, Lambeth. The curtains were
closely drawn, and the coachman wore an unusually responsible air.
Approaching a public house, which retreated a little from the street, he
pulled up; but not so close that the lights should fall upon the
carriage door, not so distant as to unsettle the mind of any one who
chose to imagine that he had halted to drink beer before proceeding to
call for the children at a juvenile party. He did not dismount, nor did
any one alight in the usual way; but any keen observer who happened to
watch his intelligent countenance might have seen a furtive glance
directed to the wrong door,--that is to say, to the door of the carriage
which opened into the dark and muddy road. From that door emerged a sly
and ruffianly figure, marked with every sign of squalor. He was dressed
in what had once been a snuff-brown coat, but which had faded to the
hue of bricks imperfectly baked. It was not strictly a ragged coat,
though it had lost its cuffs,--a bereavement which obliged the wearer's
arms to project through the sleeves two long inelegant inches. The coat
altogether was too small, and was only made to meet over the chest by
means of a bit of twine. This wretched garment was surmounted by a
"bird's-eye" pocket-handkerchief of cotton, wisped about the throat
hangman fashion; above all was a battered billy-cock hat, with a
dissolute drooping brim. Between the neckerchief and the lowering brim
of the hat appeared part of a face, unshaven, and not scrupulously
clean. The man's hands were plunged into his pockets, and he shuffled
hastily along in boots, which were the boots of a tramp indifferent to
miry ways. In a moment he was out of sight, and the brougham, after
waiting a little while, turned about and comfortably departed.
This mysterious figure was that of the present writer. He was bound for
Lambeth Workhouse, there to learn by actual experience how casual
paupers are lodged and fed, and what the "casual" is like, and what the
porter who admits him, and the master who rules over him; and how the
night passes with the outcasts whom we have all seen crowding about
workhouse doors on cold and rainy nights. Much has been said on the
subject,--on behalf of the paupers, on behalf of the officials; but
nothing by any one who, with no motive but to learn and make known the
truth, had ventured the experiment of passing a night in a workhouse and
trying what it actually is to be a "casual."
The day had been windy and chill,--the night was cold; and therefore I
fully expected to begin my experiences among a dozen of ragged wretches
squatting about the steps and waiting for admission. But my only
companion at the door was a decently dressed woman, whom, as I
afterwards learnt, they declined to admit until she had recovered from a
fit of intoxication from which she had the misfortune to be still
suffering. I lifted the big knocker and knocked; the door was promptly
opened, and I entered. Just within, a comfortable-looking clerk sat at a
comfortable desk, ledger before him. Indeed, the spacious hall in every
way was as comfortable as cleanliness and great mats and plenty of
gaslight could make it.
"What do you want?" asked the man who opened the door.
"I want a lodging."
"Go and stand before the desk," said the porter; and I obeyed.
"You are late," said the clerk.
"Am I, sir?"
"Yes. If you come in you'll have a bath, and you'll have to sleep in the
shed."
"Very well, sir."
"What's your name?"
"Joshua Mason, sir."
"What are you?"
"An engraver." (This taradiddle I invented to account for the look of my
hands.)
"Where did you sleep last night?"
"Hammersmith," I answered--as I hope to be forgiven.
"How many times have you been here?"
"Never before, sir."
"Where do you mean to go to when you are turned out in the morning?"
"Back to Hammersmith, sir."
These humble answers being entered in a book, the clerk called to the
porter, saying, "Take him through. You may as well take his bread with
you."
Near the clerk stood a basket containing some pieces of bread of equal
size. Taking one of these, and unhitching a bunch of keys from the wall,
the porter led me through some passages all so scrupulously clean that
my most serious misgivings were laid to rest. Then we passed into a
dismal yard. Crossing this, my guide led me to a door, calling out,
"Hillo! Daddy, I've brought you another!" Whereupon Daddy opened unto
us, and let a little of his gaslight stream into the dark where we
stood.
"Come in," said Daddy, very hospitably. "There's enough of you to-night,
anyhow! What made you so late?"
"I didn't like to come in earlier."
"Ah! that's a pity, now, because you've missed your skilley (gruel).
It's the first night of skilley, don't you know, under the new Act?"
"Just like my luck!" I muttered dolefully.
The porter went his way, and I followed Daddy into another apartment,
where were ranged three great baths, each one containing a liquid so
disgustingly like weak mutton broth that my worst apprehensions crowded
back. "Come on, there's a dry place to stand on up at this end," said
Daddy, kindly. "Take off your clothes, tie 'em up in your hank'sher, and
I'll lock 'em up till the morning." Accordingly I took off my coat and
waistcoat, and was about to tie them together, when Daddy cried, "That
ain't enough; I mean everything." "Not my shirt, sir, I suppose?" "Yes,
shirt and all; but there, I'll lend you a shirt," said Daddy. "Whatever
you take in of your own will be nailed, you know. You might take in your
boots, though,--they'd be handy if you happened to want to leave the
shed for anything; but don't blame me if you lose 'em."
With a fortitude for which I hope some day to be rewarded, I made up my
bundle (boots and all), and the moment Daddy's face was turned away shut
my eyes and plunged desperately into the mutton broth. I wish from the
bottom of my heart my courage had been less hasty, for hearing the
splash, Daddy looked round and said, "Lor, now! there was no occasion
for that; you look a clean and decent sort of man. It's them filthy
beggars" (only he used a word more specific than "filthy") "that want
washing. Don't use that towel: here's a clean one! That's the sort! and
now here's your shirt" (handing me a blue striped one from a heap), "and
here's your ticket. No. 34 you are, and a ticket to match is tied to
your bundle. Mind you don't lose it. They'll nail it from you if they
get a chance. Put it under your head. This is your rug: take it with
you."
"Where am I to sleep, please, sir?"
"I'll show you."
And so he did. With no other rag but the checked shirt to cover me, and
with my rug over my shoulder, he accompanied me to the door at which I
entered, and, opening it, kept me standing with naked feet on the stone
threshold, full in the draught of the frosty air, while he pointed out
the way I should go. It was not a long way, but I would have given much
not to have trodden it. It was open as the highway,--with flag-stones
below and the stars overhead, and, as I said before, and cannot help
saying again, a frosty wind was blowing.
"Straight across," said Daddy, "to where you see the light shining
through. Go in there, and turn to the left, and you'll find the beds in
a heap. Take one of 'em and make yourself comfortable." And straight
across I went, my naked feet seeming to cling to the stones as though
they were burning hot instead of icy cold (they had just stepped out of
a bath you should remember), till I reached the space through which the
light was shining, and I entered in.
No language with which I am acquainted is capable of conveying an
adequate conception of the spectacle I then encountered. Imagine a space
of about thirty feet by thirty feet enclosed on three sides by a dingy
whitewashed wall, and roofed with naked tiles, which were furred with
the damp and filth that reeked within. As for the fourth side of the
shed, it was boarded in for (say) a third of its breadth; the remaining
space being hung with flimsy canvas, in which was a gap two feet wide at
top, widening to at least four feet at bottom. This far too airy shed
was paved with stone, the flags so thickly incrusted with filth that I
mistook it first for a floor of natural earth. Extending from one end of
my bedroom to the other, in three rows, were certain iron "cranks" (of
which I subsequently learnt the use), with their many arms raised in
various attitudes, as the stiffened arms of men are on a battle-field.
My bedfellows lay among the cranks, distributed over the flag-stones in
a double row, on narrow bags scantily stuffed with hay. At one glance my
appalled vision took in thirty of them,--thirty men and boys stretched
upon shallow pallets, with but only six inches of comfortable hay
between them and the stony floor. These beds were placed close together,
every occupant being provided with a rug like that which I was fain to
hug across my shoulders. In not a few cases two gentlemen had clubbed
beds and rugs and slept together. In one case (to be further mentioned
presently) four gentlemen had so clubbed together. Many of my
fellow-casuals were awake,--others asleep or pretending to sleep; and
shocking as were the waking ones to look upon, they were quite pleasant
when compared with the sleepers. For this reason, the practised and
well-seasoned casual seems to have a peculiar way of putting himself to
bed. He rolls himself in his rug, tucking himself in, head and feet, so
that he is completely enveloped; and, lying quite still on his pallet,
he looks precisely like a corpse covered because of its hideousness.
Some were stretched out at full length; some lay nose and knees
together; some with an arm or a leg showing crooked through the
coverlet. It was like the result of a railway accident; these ghastly
figures were awaiting the coroner.
From the moral point of view, however, the wakeful ones were more
dreadful still. Tousled, dirty, villanous, they squatted up in their
beds, and smoked foul pipes, and sang snatches of horrible songs, and
bandied jokes so obscene as to be absolutely appalling. Eight or ten
were so enjoying themselves,--the majority with the check shirt on, and
the frowzy rug pulled about their legs; but two or three wore no shirts
at all, squatting naked to the waist, their bodies fully exposed in the
light of the single flaring jet of gas fixed high up on the wall.
My entrance excited very little attention. There was a horse-pail three
parts full of water standing by a post in the middle of the shed, with a
little tin pot beside it. Addressing me as "old pal," one of the naked
ruffians begged me to "hand him a swig," as he was "werry nigh garspin."
Such an appeal of course no "old pal" could withstand, and I gave him a
potful of water. He showed himself grateful for the attention. "I should
lay over there, if I was you," he said, pointing to the left side of the
shed; "it's more out of the wind than this 'ere side is." I took the
good-natured advice, and (by this time shivering with cold) stepped over
the stones to where the beds of straw-bags were heaped, and dragged one
of them to the spot suggested by my naked comrade. But I had no more
idea of how to arrange it than of making an apple-pudding; and a certain
little discovery added much to my embarrassment. In the middle of the
bed I had selected was a stain of blood bigger than a man's hand! I did
not know what to do now. To lie on such a horrid thing seemed
impossible; yet to carry back the bed and exchange it for another might
betray a degree of fastidiousness repugnant to the feelings of my
fellow-lodgers, and possibly excite suspicion that I was not what I
seemed. Just in the nick of time in came that good man Daddy.
"What! not pitched yet?" he exclaimed; "here, I'll show you. Hallo!
somebody's been a bleedin'! Never mind; let's turn him over. There you
are, you see! Now lay down, and cover your rug over you."
There was no help for it. It was too late to go back. Down I lay and
spread the rug over me. I should have mentioned that I brought in with
me a cotton handkerchief, and this I tied round my head by way of a
nightcap; but not daring to pull the rug as high as my face. Before I
could in any way settle my mind to reflection, in came Daddy once more
to do me a further kindness and point out a stupid blunder I had
committed.
"Why, you are a rummy chap!" said Daddy. "You forgot your bread! Lay
hold. And look here, I've brought you another rug; it's perishing cold
to-night." So saying he spread the rug over my legs and went away. I was
very thankful for the extra covering, but I was in a dilemma about the
bread. I couldn't possibly eat it; what then was to be done with it? I
broke it, however, and in view of such of the company as might happen to
be looking, made a ferocious bite at a bit as large as a bean, and
munched violently. By good luck, however, I presently got half-way over
my difficulty very neatly. Just behind me, so close indeed that their
feet came within half a yard of my head, three lads were sleeping
together.
"Did you hear that, Punch?" one of them asked.
"'Ear what?" answered Punch, sleepy and snappish.
"Why, a cove forgot his toke! Gordstruth! you wouldn't ketch me a
forgettin' mine."
"You may have half of it, old pal, if you're hungry", I observed,
leaning upon my elbows.
"Chuck it here, good luck to yer!" replied my young friend, starting up
with an eager clap of his dirty hands.
I "chucked it here," and slipping the other half under the side of my
bed, lay my head on my folded arms.
It was about half past nine when, having made myself as comfortable as
circumstances permitted, I closed my eyes in the desperate hope that I
might fall asleep, and so escape from the horrors with which I was
surrounded. "At seven to-morrow morning the bell will ring," Daddy had
informed me, "and then you will give up your ticket and get back your
bundle." Between that time and the present full nine long hours had to
wear away.
But I was speedily convinced that, at least for the present, sleep was
impossible. The young fellow (one of the three who lay in one bed, with
their feet to my head) whom my bread had refreshed, presently swore with
frightful imprecations that he was now going to have a smoke; and
immediately put his threat into execution. Thereupon his bedfellows sat
up and lit their pipes too. But O, if they had only smoked,--if they had
not taken such an unfortunate fancy to spit at the leg of a crank,
distant a few inches from my head,--how much misery and apprehension
would have been spared me. To make matters worse, they united with this
American practice an Eastern one; as they smoked they related little
autobiographical anecdotes,--so abominable that three or four decent men
who lay at the farther end of the shed were so provoked that they
threatened, unless the talk abated in filthiness, to get up and stop it
by main force. Instantly the voice of every blackguard in the room was
raised against the decent ones. They were accused of loathsome
afflictions, stigmatized "as fighting men out of work" (which must be
something very humiliating, I suppose), and invited to "a round" by boys
young enough to be their grandsons. For several minutes there was such a
storm of oaths, threats, and taunts,--such a deluge of foul words raged
in the room,--that I could not help thinking of the fate of Sodom; as,
indeed, I did several times during the night. Little by little the riot
died out, without any the slightest interference on the part of the
officers.
Soon afterwards the ruffian majority was strengthened by the arrival
of a lanky boy of about fifteen, who evidently, recognized many
acquaintances, and was recognized by them as "Kay," or perhaps I should
write it "K." He was a very remarkable-looking lad, and his appearance
pleased me much. Short as his hair was cropped, it still looked soft and
silky; he had large blue eyes, set wide apart, and a mouth that would
have been faultless but for its great width; and his voice was as soft
and sweet as any woman's. Lightly as a woman, too, he picked his way
over the stones towards the place where the beds lay, carefully hugging
his cap beneath his arm.
"What cheer, Kay?" "Out again, then, old son!" "What yer got in yer cap,
Kay?" cried his friends; to which the sweet voice replied, "Who'll give
me a part of his doss (bed)? ---- my ---- eyes and limbs if I ain't
perishin'! Who'll let me turn in with him for half my toke (bread)?" I
feared how it would be! The hungry young fellow who had so readily
availed himself of half my "toke" snapped at Kay's offer, and after a
little rearrangement and bed-making, four young fellows instead of three
reposed upon the hay-bags at my head.
"You was too late for skilley, Kay. There's skilley now, nights as well
as mornin's."
"Don't you tell no bleeding lies," Kay answered, incredulously.
"Blind me, it's true. Ain't it, Punch?"
"Right you are!" said Punch, "and spoons to eat it with, that's more!
There used to be spoons at all the houses, one time. Poplar used to have
'em; but one at a time they was all nicked, don't you know." ("Nicked"
means "stolen," obviously.)
"Well, I don't want no skilley, leastways, not to-night," said
Kay. "I've had some rum. Two glasses of it; and a blow out of
puddin',--regler Christmas plum-puddin'. You don't know the cove as give
it me, but, thinks I this mornin' when I come out, blessed if I don't go
and see my old chum. Lordstruth! he was struck! 'Come along,' he ses, 'I
saved you some puddin' from Christmas.' 'Whereabouts is it?' I ses. 'In
that box under my bed,' he ses, and he forks it out. That's the sort of
pal to have! And he stood a quarten, and half a ounce of hard-up
(tobacco). That wasn't all, neither; when I come away, ses he, 'How
about your breakfus?' 'O, I shall do,' ses I. 'You take some of my bread
and butter,' he ses, and he cuts me off four chunks buttered thick. I
eat two on 'em comin' along."
"What's in your cap, Kay?" repeated the devourer of "toke."
"Them other two slices," said Kay; generously adding, "There, share 'em
amongst yer, and somebody give us a whiff of 'bacca."
Kay showed himself a pleasant companion,--what in a higher grade of
society is called "quite an acquisition." He told stories of thieves and
thieving, and of a certain "silver cup" he had been "put up to," and
that he meant to nick it afore the end of the week, if he got seven
stretch (? seven years) for it. The cup was worth ten quid (? pounds),
and he knew where to melt it within ten minutes of nicking it. He made
this statement without any moderation of his sweet voice; and the others
received it as serious fact. Nor was there any affectation of secrecy in
another gentleman, who announced, with great applause, that he had
stolen a towel from the bath-room; "And s' help me, it's as good as new;
never been washed mor'n once!"
"Tell us a 'rummy' story, Kay," said somebody; and Kay did. He told
stories of so "rummy" a character that the decent men at the farther end
of the room (some of whom had their own little boys sleeping with them)
must have lain in a sweat of horror as they listened. Indeed, when Kay
broke into a "rummy" song with a roaring chorus, one of the decent men
rose in his bed and swore that he would smash Kay's head if he didn't
desist. But Kay sang on till he and his admirers were tired of the
entertainment. "Now," said he, "let's have a swearing club! you'll all
be in it?"