[Illustration: Initial: "The Henpecked Giant"]
No locality of Ireland is fuller of strange bits of fanciful legend than
the neighborhood of the Giant's Causeway. For miles along the coast the
geological strata resemble that of the Causeway, and the gradual
disintegration of the stone has wrought many peculiar and picturesque
effects among the basaltic pillars, while each natural novelty has woven
round it a tissue of traditions and legends, some appropriate, others
forced, others ridiculous misapplications of commonplace tales. Here, a
long straight row of columns is known as the "Giant's Organ," and
tradition pictures the scene when the giants of old, with their gigantic
families, sat on the Causeway and listened to the music; there, a group of
isolated pillars is called the "Giant's Chimneys," since they once
furnished an exit for the smoke of the gigantic kitchen. A solitary
pillar, surrounded by the crumbling remains of others, bears a distant
resemblance to a seated female figure, the "Giant's Bride," who slew her
husband and attempted to flee, but was overtaken by the power of a
magician, who changed her into stone as she was seated by the shore,
waiting for the boat that was to carry her away. Further on, a cluster of
columns forms the "Giant's Pulpit," where a presumably outspoken gigantic
preacher denounced the sins of a gigantic audience. The Causeway itself,
according to legend, formerly extended to Scotland, being originally
constructed by Finn Maccool and his friends, this notable giant having
invited Benandoner, a Scotch giant of much celebrity, to come over and
fight him. The invitation was accepted, and Maccool, out of politeness,
built the Causeway the whole distance, the big Scotchman thus walking over
dryshod to receive his beating.
Some distance from the mainland is found the Ladies' Wishing Chair,
composed of blocks in the Great Causeway, wishes made while seated here
being certain of realization. To the west of the Wishing Chair a solitary
pillar rises from the sea, the "Gray Man's Love." Look to the mainland,
and the mountain presents a deep, narrow cleft, with perpendicular sides,
the "Gray Man's Path." Out in the sea, but unfortunately not often in
sight, is the "Gray Man's Isle," at present inhabited only by the Gray Man
himself. As the island, however, appears but once in seventeen years, and
the Gray Man is never seen save on the eve of some awful calamity,
visitors to the Causeway have a very slight chance of seeing either island
or man. There can be no doubt though of the existence of both, for
everybody knows he was one of the greatest of the giants during his
natural lifetime, nor could any better evidence be asked than the facts
that his sweet-heart, turned into stone, still stands in sight of the
Causeway; the precipice, from which she flung herself into the sea, is
still known by the name of the "Lovers' Leap;" and the path he made
through the mountain is still used by him when he leaves his island and
comes on shore.
It is not surprising that so important a personage as the Gray Man should
be the central figure of many legends, and indeed over him the
story-makers seem to have had vigorous competition, for thirty or forty
narratives are current in the neighborhood concerning him and the
principal events of his life. So great a collection of legendary lore on
one topic rendered the choice of a single tradition which should fairly
cover the subject a matter of no little difficulty. As sometimes happens
in grave undertakings, the issue was determined by accident. A chance boat
excursion led to the acquaintance of Mr. Barney O'Toole, a fisherman, and
conversation developed the fact that this gentleman was thoroughly posted
in the local legends, and was also the possessor of a critical faculty
which enabled him to differentiate between the probable and the
improbable, and thus to settle the historical value of a tradition. In his
way, he was also a philosopher, having evidently given much thought to
social issues, and expressing his conclusions thereupon with the ease and
freedom of a master mind.
Upon being informed of the variety and amount of legendary material
collected about the Gray Man and his doings, Barney unhesitatingly
pronounced the entire assortment worthless, and condemned all the gathered
treasures as the creations of petty intellects, which could not get out of
the beaten track, but sought in the supernatural a reason for and
explanation of every fact that seemed at variance with the routine of
daily experience. In his opinion, the Gray Man is never seen at all in our
day and generation, having been gathered to his fathers ages ago; nor is
there any enchanted island; to use his own language, "all thim shtories
bein' made be thim blaggard guides that set up av a night shtringin' out
laigends for to enthertain the quol'ty."
"Now, av yer Anner wants to hear it, I can tell ye the thrue shtory av the
Gray Man, no more is there anny thing wondherful in it, but it's just as I
had it from me grandfather, that towld it to the childher for to entertain
thim.
"It's very well beknownst that in thim owld days there were gionts in
plinty hereabouts, but they didn't make the Causeway at all, for that's a
work o' nacher, axceptin' the Gray Man's Path, that I'm goin' to tell ye
av. But ivery wan knows that there were gionts, bekase if there wasn't,
how cud we know o' thim at all, but wan thing's sartain, they were just
like us, axceptin' in the matther o' size, for wan ov thim 'ud make a
dozen like the men that live now.
"Among the gionts that lived about the Causeway there was wan, a young
giont named Finn O'Goolighan, that was the biggest av his kind, an' none
o' thim cud hide in a kish. So Finn, for the size av him, was a livin'
terror. His little finger was the size av yer Anner's arrum, an' his wrist
as big as yer leg, an' so he wint, bigger an' bigger. Whin he walked he
carried an oak-tree for a shtick, ye cud crawl into wan av his shoes, an'
his caubeen 'ud cover a boat. But he was a good-humored young felly wid a
laugh that 'ud deefen ye, an' a plazin' word for all he met, so as if ye
run acrass him in the road, he'd give ye 'good morrow kindly,' so as ye'd
feel the betther av it all day. He'd work an' he'd play an' do aither wid
all the might that was in him. Av a week day you'd see him in the field or
on the shore from sun to sun as busy as a hen wid a dozen chicks; an' av a
fair-day or av a Sunday, there he'd be, palatherin' at the girls, an'
dancin' jigs that he done wid extrame nateness, or havin' a bout wid a
shtick on some other felly's head, an' indade, at that he was so clever
that it was a delight for to see him, for he'd crack a giont's shkull that
was as hard as a pot wid wan blow an' all the pleasure in life. So he got
to be four or five an' twinty an' not his betther in the County Antrim.
"Wan fine day, his father, Bryan O'Goolighan, that was as big a giont as
himself, says to him, says he, 'Finn, me Laddybuck, I'm thinkin' ye'll
want to be gettin' marr'd.'
"'Not me,' says Finn.
"'An' why not?' says his father.
"'I've no consate av it,' says Finn.
"'Ye'd be the betther av it,' says his father.
"'Faix, I'm not sure o' that,' says Finn; 'gettin' marr'd is like turnin'
a corner, ye don't know phat ye're goin' to see,' says he.
"'Thrue for ye,' says owld Bryan, for he'd had axpayrience himself, 'but
if ye'd a purty woman to make the stirabout for ye av a mornin' wid her
own white hands, an' to watch out o' the dure for ye in the avenin,' an'
put on a sod o' turf whin she sees ye comin', ye'd be a betther man,' says
he.
"'Bedad, it's not aisey for to conthravene that same,' says Finn, 'barrin'
I mightn't git wan like that. Wimmin is like angels,' says he. 'There's
two kinds av 'em, an' the wan that shmiles like a dhrame o' heaven afore
she's marr'd, is the wan that gits to be a tarin' divil afther her
market's made an' she's got a husband.'
"Ye see Finn was a mighty smart young felly, if he was a giont, but his
father didn't give up hope av gettin' him marr'd, for owld folks that's
been through a dale o' throuble that-a-way always thries to get the young
wans into the same thrap, beways, says they, av taichin' thim to larn
something. But Bryan was a wise owld giont, an' knewn, as the Bible says,
there's time enough for all things. So he quit him, an' that night he
spake wid the owld woman an' left it wid her, as knowin' that whin it's a
matther o' marryin', a woman is more knowledgable an' can do more to bring
on that sort o' mis'ry in wan day than a man can in all the years God
gives him.
"Now, in ordher that ye see the pint, I'm undher the need-cessity av
axplainin' to yer Anner that Finn didn't be no manes have the hathred at
wimmin that he purtinded, for indade he liked thim purty well, but he
thought he undhershtood thim well enough to know that the more ye talk
swate to thim, the more they don't like it, barrin' they're fools, that
sometimes happens. So whin he talked wid 'em or about thim, he spake o'
thim shuperskillious, lettin' on to despize the lasht wan o' thim, that
was a takin' way he had, for wimmin love thimselves a dale betther than
ye'd think, unless yer Anner's marr'd an' knows, an' that Finn knew, so he
always said o' thim the manest things he cud get out av his head, an' that
made thim think av him, that was phat he wanted. They purtinded to hate
him for it, but he didn't mind that, for he knewn it was only talk, an'
there wasn't wan o' thim that wouldn't give the lasht tooth out av her jaw
to have him for a husband.
"Well, as I was sayin', afther owld Bryan give Finn up, his mother tuk him
in hand, throwin' a hint at him wanst in a while, sighin' to him how glad
she'd be to have a young lady giont for a dawther, an' dhroppin' a word
about phat an iligant girl Burthey O'Ghallaghy was, that was the dawther
av wan o' the naburs, that she got Finn, unbeknownst to himself, to be
thinkin' about Burthey. She was a fine young lady giont, about tin feet
high, as broad as a cassel dure, but she was good size for Finn, as ye
know be phat I said av him. So when Finn's mother see him takin' her home
from church afther benediction, an' the nabers towld her how they obsarved
him lanin' on O'Ghallaghy's wall an' Burthey lightin' his pipe wid a coal,
she thought to herself, 'fair an' aisey goes far in a day,' an' made her
mind up that Finn 'ud marry Burthey. An' so, belike, he'd a' done, if he
hadn't gone over, wan onlucky day, to the village beyant, where the common
people like you an' me lived.
"When he got there, in he wint to the inn to get him his dhrink, for it's
a mishtake to think that thim gionts were all blood-suckin' blaggards as
the Causeway guides say, but, barrin' they were in dhrink, were as
paceable as rabbits. So when Finn wint in, he says, 'God save ye,' to thim
settin', an' gev the table a big crack wid his shillaylah as for to say he
wanted his glass. But instead o' the owld granny that used for to fetch
him his potheen, out shteps a nate little woman wid hair an' eyes as black
as a crow an' two lips on her as red as a cherry an' a quick sharp way
like a cat in a hurry.
"'An' who are you, me Dear?' says Finn, lookin' up.
"'I'm the new barmaid, Sorr, av it's plazin' to ye,' says she, makin' a
curchey, an' lookin' shtrait in his face.
"'It is plazin',' says Finn. ''Tis I that's glad to be sarved be wan like
you. Only,' says he, 'I know be the look o' yer eye ye 've a timper.'
"'Dade I have,' says she, talkin' back at him, 'an' ye'd betther not wake
it.'
"Finn had more to say an' so did she, that I won't throuble yer Anner wid,
but when he got his fill av dhrink an' said all he'd in his head, an' she
kep' aven wid him at ivery pint, he wint away mightily plazed. The next
Sunday but wan he was back agin, an' the Sunday afther, an' afther that
agin. By an' by, he'd come over in the avenin' afther the work was done,
an' lane on the bar or set on the table, talkin' wid the barmaid, for she
was as sharp as a thornbush, an' sorra a word Finn 'ud say to her in
impidince or anny other way, but she'd give him his answer afore he cud
get his mouth shut.
"Now, be this time, Finn's mother had made up her mind that Finn 'ud marry
Burthey, an' so she sent for the match-maker, an' they talked it all over,
an' Finn's father seen Burthey's father, an' they settled phat Burthey 'ud
get an' phat Finn was to have, an' were come to an agraymint about the
match, onbeknownst to Finn, bekase it was in thim days like it is now, the
matches bein' made be the owld people, an' all the young wans did was to
go an' be marr'd an' make the best av it. Afther all, maybe that's as good
a way as anny, for whin ye've got all the throuble on yer back ye can
stagger undher, there's not a haporth o' differ whether ye got undher it
yerself or whether it was put on ye, an' so it is wid gettin' marr'd, at
laste so I'm towld.
"Annyhow, Finn's mother was busy wid preparin' for the weddin' whin she
heard how Finn was afther puttin' in his time at the village.
"'Sure that won't do,' she says to herself; 'he ought to know betther than
to be spendin' ivery rap he's got in dhrink an' gostherin' at that
black-eyed huzzy, an' he to be marr'd to the best girl in the county.' So
that night, when Finn come in, she spake fair an' soft to him that he'd
give up goin' to the inn, an' get ready for to be marr'd at wanst. An'
that did well enough till she got to the marryin', when Finn riz up aff
his sate, an' shut his taith so hard he bruk his pipestem to smithereens.
"'Say no more, mother,' he says to her. 'Burthey's good enough, but I
wouldn't marry her if she was made av goold. Begob, she's too big. I want
no hogs'ead av a girl like her,' says he. 'If I'm to be marr'd, I want a
little woman. They're betther o' their size, an' it don't take so much to
buy gowns for thim, naither do they ate so much,' says he.
"'A-a-ah, baithershin,' says his mother to him; 'phat d'ye mane be talkin'
that-a-way, an' me workin' me fingers to the bone clanin' the house for
ye, an' relavin' ye av all the coortin' so as ye'd not be bothered in the
laste wid it.'
"'Shmall thanks to ye,' says Finn, 'sure isn't the coortin' the best share
o' the job?'
[Illustration: "AN' WHO ARE YOU, ME DEAR?" SAYS FINN, LOOKIN' UP.]
"AN' WHO ARE YOU, ME DEAR?" SAYS FINN, LOOKIN' UP.
"'Don't ye mane to marry her?' says his mother.
"'Divil a toe will I go wid her,' says Finn.
"'Out, ye onmannerly young blaggard, I'd tell ye to go to the divil, but
ye're on the way fast enough, an' bad luck to the fut I'll shtir to halt
ye. Only I'm sorry for Burthey,' says she, 'wid her new gown made. When
her brother comes back, begob 'tis he that'll be the death av ye immejitly
afther he dhrops his two eyes on ye.'
"'Aisey now,' says Finn, 'if he opens his big mouth at me, I'll make him
wondher why he wasn't born deef an' dumb,' says he, an' so he would, for
all that he was so paceable.
"Afther that, phat was his mother to do but lave aff an' go to bed, that
she done, givin' Finn all the talk in her head an' a million curses
besides, for she was mightily vexed at bein' bate that way an' was in a
divil av a timper along o' the house-clanin', that always puts wimmin into
a shtate av mind.
"So the next day the news was towld, an' Finn got to be a holy show for
the nabers, bekase av not marryin' Burthey an' wantin' the barmaid. They
were afeared to say annything to himself about it, for he'd an arm on him
the thick o' yer waist, an' no wan wanted to see how well he cud use it,
but they'd whisper afther him, an' whin he wint along the road, they'd
pint afther him, an' by an' by a giont like himself, an uncle av him,
towld him he'd betther lave the counthry, an' so he thought he'd do an'
made ready for to shtart.
"But poor Burthey pined wid shame an' grief at the loss av him, for she
loved him wid all the heart she had, an' that was purty big. So she fell
aff her weight, till from the size av a hogs'ead she got no bigger round
than a barrel an' was like to die. But all the time she kept on hopin'
that he'd come to her, but whin she heard for sartain he was goin' to lave
the counthry she let go an' jumped aff that clift into the say an'
committed shooicide an' drownded herself. She wasn't turned into a pillar
at all, that's wan o' thim guides' lies; she just drownded like annybody
that fell into the wather would, an' was found afther an' berrid be the
fishermen, an' a hard job av it they had, for she weighed a ton. But they
called the place the Lovers' Lape, bekase she jumped from it, an' lovin'
Finn the way she did, the lape she tuk made the place be called afther her
an' that's razon enough.
"Finn was showbogher enough afore, but afther that he seen it was no use
thryin' for to live in Ireland at all, so he got the barmaid, that was
aiquel to goin' wid him, the more that ivery wan was agin him, that's
beway o' the conthrariness av wimmin, that are always ready for to do
annything ye don't want thim to do, an' wint to Scotland an' wasn't heard
av for a long time.
"About twelve years afther, there was a great talk that Finn had got back
from Scotland wid his wife an' had taken the farm over be the village, the
first on the left as ye go down the mountain. At first there was no end av
the fuss that was, for Burthey's frinds hadn't forgotten, but it all come
to talk, so Finn settled down quite enough an' wint to work. But he was an
althered man. His hair an' beard were gray as a badger, so they called him
the Gray Man, an' he'd a look on him like a shape-stalin' dog. Everybody
wondhered, but they didn't wondher long, for it was aisely persaived he
had cause enough, for the tongue o' Missis Finn wint like a stame-ingine,
kapin' so far ahead av her branes that she'd have to shtop an' say
'an'-uh, an'-uh,' to give the latther time for to ketch up. Jagers, but
she was the woman for to talk an' schold an' clack away till ye'd want to
die to be rid av her. When she was young she was a purty nice girl, but as
she got owlder her nose got sharp, her lips were as thin as the aidge av a
sickle, an' her chin was as pinted as the bow av a boat. The way she
managed Finn was beautiful to see, for he was that afeared av her tongue
that he darn't say his sowl belonged to him when she was by.
"When he got up airly in the mornin', she'd ax, 'Now phat are ye raisin'
up so soon for, an' me just closin' me eyes in slape?' an' if he'd lay
abed, she'd tell him to 'get along out o' that now, ye big gossoon; if it
wasn't for me ye'd do nothin' at all but slape like a pig.' If he'd go
out, she'd gosther him about where he was goin' an' phat he meant to do
when he got there; if he shtayed at home, she'd raymark that he done
nothin' but set in the cabin like a boss o' shtraw. When he thried for to
plaze her, she'd grumble at him bekase he didn't thry sooner; when he let
her be, she'd fall into a fury an' shtorm till his hair shtud up like it
was bewitched it was.
"She'd more thricks than a showman's dog. If scholdin' didn't do for Finn,
she'd cry at him, an' had tin childher that she larned to cry at him too,
an' when she begun, the tin o' thim 'ud set up a yell that 'ud deefen a
thrumpeter, so Finn 'ud give in.
"She cud fall ill on tin minnits notice, an' if Finn was obsthreperous in
that degray that she cudn't do him no other way, she'd let on her head
ached fit to shplit, so she'd go to bed an' shtay there till she'd got him
undher her thumb agin. So she knew just where to find him whin she wanted
him; that wimmin undhershtand, for there's more divilmint in wan woman's
head about gettin' phat she wants than in tin men's bodies.
"Sure, if iver annybody had raison to remimber the ould song, "When I was
single," it was Finn.
"So, ye see, Finn, the Gray Man, was afther havin' the divil's own time,
an' that was beways av a mishtake he made about marryin'. He thought it
was wan o' thim goold bands the quol'ty ladies wear on their arrums, but
he found it was a handcuff it was. Sure wimmin are quare craythers. Ye
think life wid wan o' thim is like a sunshiny day an' it's nothing but
drizzle an' fog from dawn to dark, an' it's my belafe that Misther O'Day
wasn't far wrong when he said wimmin are like the owld gun he had in the
house an' that wint aff an the shly wan day an' killed the footman. 'Sure
it looked innycent enough,' says he, 'but it was loaded all the same, an'
only waitin' for an axcuse to go aff at some wan, an' that's like a woman,
so it is,' he'd say, an' ivery wan 'ud laugh when he towld that joke, for
he was the landlord, 'that's like a woman, for she's not to be thrusted
avin when she's dead.'
"But it's me own belafe that the most sarious mishtake av Finn's was in
marryin' a little woman. There's thim that says all wimmin is a mishtake
be nacher, but there's a big differ bechuxt a little woman an' a big wan,
the little wans have sowls too big for their bodies, so are always lookin'
out for a big man to marry, an' the bigger he is, the betther they like
him, as knowin' they can manage him all the aisier. So it was wid Finn an'
his little wife, for be hook an' be crook she rejuiced him in that
obejince that if she towld him for to go an' shtand on his head in the
corner, he'd do it wid the risk av his life, bekase he'd wanted to die an'
go to heaven as he heard the priest say there was no marryin' there, an'
though he didn't dare to hint it, he belaved in his sowl that the rayzon
was the wimmin didn't get that far.
[Illustration: Music: When I Was Single.]
"Afther they'd been living here about a year, Finn thought he'd fish a bit
an' so help along, considherin' he'd a big family an' none o' the childher
owld enough for to work. So he got a boat an' did purty well an' his wife
used to come acrass the hill to the shore to help him wid the catch. But
it was far up an' down agin an' she'd get tired wid climbin' the hill an'
jawing at Finn on the way.
"So wan day as they were comin' home, they passed a cabin an' there was
the man that lived there, that was only a ditcher, a workin' away on the
side av the hill down the path to the shpring wid a crowbar, movin' a big
shtone, an' the shweat rollin' in shtrames aff his face.
"'God save ye,' says Finn to him.
"'God save ye kindly,' says he to Finn.
"'It's a bizzy man ye are,' says Finn.
"'Thrue for ye,' says the ditcher. 'It's along o' the owld woman. "The way
to the shpring is too stape an' shtoney," says she to me, an' sure, I'm
afther makin' it aisey for her.'
"'Ye're the kind av a man to have,' says Missis Finn, shpakin' up. 'Sure
all wimmin isn't blessed like your wife,' says she, lookin' at Finn, who
let on to laugh when he wanted to shwear. They had some more discoorse,
thin Finn an' his wife wint on, but it put a big notion into her head. If
the bogthrotter, that was only a little ottommy, 'ud go to work like that
an' make an aisey path for his owld woman to the shpring, phat's the
rayzon Finn cudn't fall to an' dig a path through the mountains, so she
cud go to the say an' to the church on the shore widout breakin' her back
climbin' up an' then agin climbin' down. 'T was the biggest consate iver
in the head av her, an' she wasn't wan o' thim that 'ud let it cool aff
for the want o' talkin' about it, so she up an' towld it to Finn, an' got
afther him to do it. Finn wasn't aiger for to thry, bekase it was Satan's
own job, so he held out agin all her scholdin' an' beggin' an' cryin'.
Then she got sick on him, wid her headache, an' wint to bed, an' whin Finn
was about she'd wondher out loud phat she was iver born for an' why she
cudn't die. Then she'd pray, so as Finn 'ud hear her, to all the saints to
watch over her big gossoon av a husband an' not forget him just bekase he
was a baste, an' if Finn 'ud thry to quiet her, she'd pray all the louder,
an' tell him it didn't matther, she was dyin' an' 'ud soon be rid av him
an' his brutal ways, so as Finn got half crazy wid her an' was ready to do
annything in the worruld for to get her quiet.
[Illustration: "Finn gave in an' wint to work wid a pick an' sphade"]
"Afther about a week av this thratemint, Finn give in an' wint to work wid
a pick an' shpade on the Gray Man's Path. But thim that says he made it in
wan night is ignerant, for I belave it tuk him a month at laste; if not
more. So that's the thrue shtory av the Gray Man's Path, as me grandfather
towld it, an' shows that a giont's size isn't a taste av help to him in a
contist wid a woman's jaw.
"But to be fair wid her, I belave the onliest fault Finn's wife had was,
she was possist be the divil, an' there's thim that thinks that's enough.
I mind me av a young felly wan time that was in love, an' so to be
axcused, that wished he'd a hunderd tongues so to do justice to his
swateheart. So afther that he marr'd her, an' whin they'd been marr'd a
while an' she'd got him undher her fisht, says they to him, 'An' how about
yer hunderd tongues?' 'Begorra,' says he to thim agin, 'wid a hunderd I'd
get along betther av coorse than wid wan, but to be ayquel to the waggin'
av her jaw I'd nade a hunderd t'ousand.'
"So it's a consate I have that Missis Finn was not a haporth worse nor the
rest o' thim, an' that's phat me grandfather said too, that had been
marr'd twict, an' so knewn phat he was talkin' about. An' whin he towld
the shtory av the Gray Man, he'd always end it wid a bit av poethry:--
"'The first rib did bring in ruin
As the rest have since been doin';
Some be wan way, some another,
Woman shtill is mischief's mother.
"'Be she good or be she avil,
Be she saint or be she divil,
Shtill unaisey is his life
That is marr'd wid a wife.'"