The soul parted with the [evil]-inclined body,
Under rain, under wind;
And if it were not for the blessing of the poor on the world,
I would be hundreds of years more there.
When I was upon the world
I was happy and airy,
And I desired to draw profit to myself,
But I am [now] in great tribulation, paying for that.
When I used to go to Sunday Mass
It was not mercy I used to ask for my soul,
But jesting and joking with young men,
And the body of my Christ before me.
When I would arrive home again
It was not of the voice of the priest I would be thinking,
But of the fine great possessions
I left behind me at home.
Good was my haggard and my large house;
And my brightness (?) to go out to the gathering,
Riding on a young steed,
Banquet and feast before me.
I set no store by my soul,
Until I saw the prowess of Death assembling:
On the side of the north, black walls of fire
On the side of the south the people of Christ
Gathering amongst the angels,
The Glorious Virgin hastening them.
"I do not know," says Peter,
"Does Christ recognize him?"
"I do not know," said Christ,
"Bitter alas! I do not recognize him."
Then spake the Glorious Virgin,
And lowered herself on her white knees,
"O my son, was it not for thee were prepared
The heaps of embers
To burn thy noble body?"
O Mother, helpful, glorious,
If it be thy will to take him to heaven,
I let him with thee,
And surely one thousand years at the Tor were better for you
Than one single hour in foul hell.
COLUMCILLE AND HIS BROTHER DOBHRAN.
PREFACE.
This very interesting story of Columcille's brother, Dobhran, is common
amongst Highlanders, but I have found no trace of it in Ireland, nor
any mention of a Dobhran. This particular version was written down
by the late Rev. Father Allan MacDonald, of Eriskay, who collected a
great deal of the folk-lore of that island. The same story was told to
me, but somewhat differently, by a Canadian priest from Sydney, Nova
Scotia, one of the Clan MacAdam (really Mac Eudhmoinn) and the sixth
in descent from the first refugee of his name who fled to Canada after
Culloden. He said he had often heard the story, and that Dobhran when
he climbed to the edge of the grave uttered three sentences, but two of
them he had forgotten, the third was "cha n'eil an iorron chomh dona
agus a tháthar ag rádh," (_sic._) _i.e._, "Hell is not as bad as people
say." It was then Columcille cried out, "úir, úir air Dobhran." "Clay,
clay on Dobhran's mouth before he says any more!"[68]
[68] See Celtic Review, vol. V., p. 107.
Here follow some stories from Irish sources about Columcille himself.
His life was written at considerable length by Adamnan, one of his
successors in the Abbacy of Iona, who was born only twenty-seven
years after Columcille's death, and has come down to us in the actual
manuscript written by a man who died in 713; to that we know a good
deal about the saint. There exist five other lives of him. According to
the Leabhar Breac he died of self-imposed abstinence.
COLUMCILLE'S FASTING.
Colum's angel, whose name was Axal (a name derived from "Auxilium")
requested him to "take virginity around him," but he refused "unless a
reward therefor" be given to him. "What reward seekest thou," said the
angel. "I declare," said Columcille, "it is not one reward but four."
"Mention them," said the angel. "I will," said Columcille, "namely, A
death in Repentance, A death from Hunger, and death in Youth[69]--for
hideous are bodies through old age." "Even more shall be given thee,"
said the angel, "for thou shalt be chief prophet of heaven and earth."
[69] See Stokes' Calendar of Oengus, p. xcix. The fourth request is not
mentioned, nor yet in O'Donnell's Life, where the story is much better
told. See "Zeitschrift für Celt. Philologie," vol. IV. p. 278.
And that was fulfilled. He went into pilgrimage, and he was young when
he died, and of hunger he perished, but it was wilful hunger.
And this is the cause of that hunger of his. Once it came to pass as he
was going round the graveyard in Iona that he saw an old woman cutting
nettles to make pottage thereof. "Why art thou doing that, poor woman?"
said Columcille. "O dear father," quoth she, "I have one cow and she
has not calved yet, and I am expecting it, and this is what has served
me for a long time back."
Columcille then determines that pottage of nettles should be the thing
that should most serve him thenceforth for ever, and said, "Since it
is because of her expecting the one uncertain cow that she is in this
great hunger, meet were [the same] for us though great be the hunger
wherein we shall abide expecting God. For better and certain is what
we expect, the eternal kingdom." And he said to his servant, "Pottage
of nettles give thou to me every night without butter, without a sip
therewith."
"It shall be done," said the cook. And he bores the mixing stick of the
pottage so that it became a pipe, and he used to pour the milk into
that pipe and mix it all through the pottage. Then the church folk
notice this, namely, the cleric's goodly shape, and they talk of it
among themselves. This is made known to Columcille, and then he said,
"May they who take your place be always murmuring!"
"Well!" quoth he to the servant, "what do you put for me into the
pottage every day?" "Thou thyself are witness" said the man, "but
unless it comes out of the stick with which the pottage is mixed, I
know of nothing else therein save pottage only."
Then the secret is revealed to the cleric and he said, "Prosperity and
good-deed for ever to thy successor," said he. And this is fulfilled.
It was then, too, that Boethine told him the remarkable vision he had,
namely, three chairs seen by him in heaven; to wit, a chair of gold,
and a chair of silver, and a chair of glass. "[The meaning of] that
is manifest," said Columcille, "the chair of gold is Ciaran[70] son of
the carpenter, for his generosity and hospitality; the chair of silver
is thou thyself, O Boethine, because of the purity and lustre of thy
devotion; the chair of glass is I myself, for, though my devotion is
delightful, I am fleshly and I am often frail!" As a certain poet said--
Colum, fair formed, powerful,
Face red, broad, radiant,
Body white, fame without deceit,
Hair curling, eye grey, luminous.
[70] For Ciaran, see the story of the Eagle Léithin.
St. Patrick prophesied the coming of Columcille, according to the great
Life of Columcille, written by Manus O'Donnell, at Lifford, in the year
1532, of which more than one contemporary vellum copy exists.[71]
[71] The Bodleian copy consists of 120 pages of vellum, each leaf
measuring 17 by 11½ inches.
ST. PATRICK PROPHESIES CONCERNING COLUMCILLE.[72]
[72] See Zeitschrift für Celt. Phil. vol. III. p. 534, translated by
Dr. Henebry.
Once upon a time, as Patrick was finding labour and great inconvenience
in converting the men of Ireland and their women to the faith, he was
sorry that he did not know how they would be off for faith and for
piety after his own time, or how would God prosper them, seeing all the
labour he was getting from them. And he used to pray to God earnestly
to give him knowledge of that.
Then an angel came to him and addressed him, saying that it was
according to the vision to be revealed to him in his sleep the coming
night, that Ireland would be, as regards the faith during his own life,
and after him for evermore. And this is the vision that was given him
[the next night].
He saw all Ireland red on fire, and the flame which rose from it went
up into the further aerial spaces, and afterwards he saw that fire
being quenched, only big hills remained on fire, far apart from one
another; and then again he saw how even the hills went out, except
something like lamps or candles which remained alight in the place of
each hill. He saw again even those go out, and only embers or sparks
with a gloom upon them remaining; however, these smouldered in a few
places far scattered throughout Ireland.
The same angel came to him and told him that those were the conditions
through which Ireland should pass after him. Upon hearing that, Patrick
wept bitterly, and spoke with a great voice and said: "O God of all
power, dost Thou desire to damn and to withdraw Thy mercy from the
people to whom Thou didst send me to bring a knowledge of Thyself.
Though I am unworthy that Thou shouldst hear me, O Lord, calm Thy anger
in their regard, and receive the people of this island of Ireland into
Thy own mercy."
And on his finishing these words, the angel spoke in a pacifying tone,
and said, "Look to the north of thee," said he, "and thou shalt behold
the change of God's right hand." Patrick did as the angel bade him,
for he looked to the north, and he beheld a light arising there, not
great at first, then waxing and tearing the darkness asunder, so that
all Ireland was lighted by it as by the first flame, and he saw it go
through the same stages afterwards.
And the angel explained the meaning of that vision to Patrick, saying
that Ireland would be alight with faith and piety during his own time,
but that darkness would come over that light at his death. However,
there would be good people here and there in Ireland after him, as
were the far-sundered hills on fire; but when those good people died
there would come people not so good in their stead, like the lamps and
candles of which we have spoken already, and that the faith would be
sustained by them only as the embers that were in gloom and mist, until
the son of eternal light should come, namely Columcille. And although
little at first, in coming into the world, nevertheless he would sow
and preach the word of God and increase the faith, so that Ireland
should blaze up in his time as it did in the time of Patrick; and
that it would never blaze in the same way again, although there would
be good pious people after him. And that the Church of Ireland would
go into decay at the end of time after that, so that there would be,
there, of faith and piety, only a semblance of the embers, or little
sparks covered with gloom and darkness of which we have spoken already.
THE STORY.
Columcille began to build on Iona. He gathered together a great host
of people. But all that he used to build in the day, it used to be
thrown down at night. That drove him to set people to keep a watch on
Iona. Every morning those men [whom he had set to watch] used to be
dead at the foot of Iona. He did not continue long to set people to
watch there, but since he himself was a holy man he went and remained
watching Iona to try if he could see or find out what was going wrong
with it. He was keeping to it and from it, and they were saying that it
was on the scaur of the crag near the sea that she was, I did not see
her.
He saw a _Biast_ coming off the shore and one half of it was a fish
and the other half in the likeness of a woman. She was old, with
scales. When she shook herself she set Iona and the land a-quaking.
There went from her a tinkling sound as it were earthenware pigs (jars)
a-shaking. Columcille went down to meet her and spoke to her, and
asked her did she know what was killing the people whom he was setting
to watch Iona in the night. She said she did. "What was happening to
them?" said he. She said, "Nothing but the fear that seized them at her
appearance; that when she was a-coming to land the heart was leaping
out of its cockles[73] with them."
[73] The "cockles of the heart" is a common expression in Anglo-Irish.
It is taken from the Irish, cochall, meaning really a cowl.
"Do you know," said he, "what is throwing down Iona that I am building?"
"I do," said she, "Iona will be for ever falling so, O holy Columcille.
It is not I who am throwing it down, but still it is being thrown
down."[74]
[74] Thather ag a leagadh. The autonomous form in Scotch Gaelic.
"Do you know now any means by which I can make Iona go forward?"
"I do," said she. "O holy Columcille, to-morrow you shall question all
the people that you have at work to find out what man will consent to
offer himself alive [to be buried] under the ground, and his soul shall
be saved if he consents to do that, and people shall never see me here
afterwards. Iona shall go forward without any doubt."
On the morrow he put the question to the great host of people, "Was
there any one of them at all who would consent to offer himself alive
on condition that his soul should be saved in heaven?"
There was not one man of them willing to go into the grave although he
was told that his soul would be saved by the decree of God. She [the
_Biast_] had told him too that the grave had to be seven times as deep
as the man's length.
Poor Dobhran, his brother, was on the outskirts of the crowd. He came
over and stood behind his brother, Columcille, and said that he was
quite willing to be offered up alive under the ground on condition that
Iona might be built up by his holy brother Columcille, and he gave
credence to Columcille that his soul would be saved by the decree of
God.
Said Columcille, "Although I have no other brother but poor Dobhran, I
am pleased that he has offered himself to go to the grave, and that the
_Biast_ shall not be seen coming any more to the shore for ever."
The grave was made seven times the height of the man in depth. When
Dobhran saw the grave he turned to Columcille and asked him as a favour
to put a roof over the grave and to leave him there standing so long as
it might please God to leave him alive.
He got his request--to be put down alive into the grave. He was left
there.
Columcille came and began to work at Iona [again], and he was twenty
days working, and Iona was going forward wondrously. He was pleased
that his work was succeeding.
At the end of twenty days when everything was conjectured to be going
on well, he said it were right to look what end had come to poor
Dobhran, and [bade] open the grave.
Dobhran was walking on the floor of the grave [when the roof was taken
off]. When Dobhran saw that the grave was opened and when he heard
all the world round it, he gave an expert leap out of it to the mouth
of the grave and he put up his two hands on high on the mouth of the
grave. He supported himself on the [edge of the] grave [by his hands.]
There was a big smooth meadow going up from Iona and much rushes on it.
All the rushes that Dobhran's eyes lit upon grew red, and that little
red top is on the rushes ever.
Columcille cried out and he on the far side, "Clay! clay on Dobhran's
eyes! before he see any more of the world and of sin!"
They threw in the clay upon him then and returned to their work. And
nothing any more went against Columcille until he had Iona finished.
BRUADAR AND SMITH AND GLINN.
A CURSE
PREFACE.
This extraordinary piece of cursing cannot properly be called
folk-lore. It is purely pagan in spirit, though the poet has called
upon the Deity under all the appellations by which he was known to
the Gaels, as King of Sunday (see the story of Shaun the Tinker),
the One Son, the King of the Angels, the King of Luan (Monday or
Judgment day), the King of Brightness, the Son of the Virgin, etc. I
know nothing certain about the circumstances which gave rise to this
amazing effusion. It cannot be very old, however, since the last verse
mentions the "black peeler." Possibly it was composed not more than
seventy years ago. The poet has cleverly interwoven the names of his
three enemies in all sorts of different collocations. I give the piece
as of interest though not actual folk-lore. It was first published in
Iris-leabhar na Gaedhilge by Father Dinneen. For the original and other
curses of the same nature, see "Religious Songs of Connacht," vol. II.,
p. 274.
THE STORY.
Bruadar and Smith and Glinn,
Amen, dear God, I pray,
May they lie low in waves of woe,
And tortures slow each day!
Amen!
Bruadar and Smith and Glinn
Helpless and cold, I pray,
Amen! I pray, O King,
To see them pine away.
Amen!
Bruadar and Smith and Glinn
May flails of sorrow flay!
Cause for lamenting, snares and cares
Be theirs by night and day!
Amen!
Blindness come down on Smith,
Palsy on Bruadar come,
Amen, O King of Brightness! Smite
Glinn in his members numb,
Amen!
Smith in the pangs of pain,
Stumbling on Bruadar's path,
King of the Elements, Oh, Amen!
Let loose on Glinn Thy wrath.
Amen!
For Bruadar gape the grave,
Up-shovel for Smith the mould,
Amen, O King of the Sunday! Leave
Glinn in the devil's hold.
Amen!
Terrors on Bruadar rain,
And pain upon pain on Glinn,
Amen, O King of the Stars! and Smith
May the devil be linking him.
Amen!
Glinn in a shaking ague,
Cancer on Bruadar's tongue,
Amen, O King of the Heavens! and Smith
For ever stricken dumb.
Amen!
Thirst but no drink for Glinn,
Smith in a cloud of grief,
Amen! O King of the Saints! and rout
Bruadar without relief.
Amen!
Smith without child or heir,
And Bruadar bare of store,
Amen, O King of the Friday! Tear
For Glinn his black heart's core.
Amen!
Bruadar with nerveless limbs,
Hemp strangling Glinn's last breath,
Amen, O King of the World's Light!
And Smith in grips with death.
Amen!
Glinn stiffening for the tomb,
Smith wasting to decay,
Amen, O King of the Thunder's gloom!
And Bruadar sick alway.
Amen!
Smith like a sieve of holes,
Bruadar with throat decay,
Amen, O King of the Orders! Glinn
A buck-show every day.
Amen!
Hell-hounds to hunt for Smith,
Glinn led to hang on high,
Amen, O King of the Judgment Day!
And Bruadar rotting by.
Amen!
Curses on Glinn, I cry,
My curse on Bruadar be,
Amen, O King of the Heaven's high!
Let Smith in bondage be.
Amen!
Showers of want and blame,
Reproach, and shame of face,
Smite them all three, and smite again,
Amen, O King of Grace!
Amen!
Melt, may the three, away,
Bruadar and Smith and Glinn,
Fall in a swift and sure decay
And lose, but never win.
Amen!
May pangs pass through thee Smith,
(Let the wind not take my prayer),
May I see before the year is out
Thy heart's blood flowing there.
Amen!
Leave Smith no place nor land,
Let Bruadar wander wide,
May the Devil stand at Glinn's right hand,
And Glinn to him be tied.
Amen!
All ill from every airt
Come down upon the three,
And blast them ere the year be out
In rout and misery.
Amen!
Glinn let misfortune bruise,
Bruadar lose blood and brains,
Amen, O Jesus! hear my voice,
Let Smith be bent in chains.
Amen!
I accuse both Glinn and Bruadar,
And Smith I accuse to God,
May a breach and a gap be upon the three,
And the Lord's avenging rod.
Amen!
Each one of the wicked three
Who raised against me their hand,
May fire from heaven come down and slay
This day their perjured band,
Amen!
May none of their race survive,
May God destroy them all,
Each curse of the psalms in the holy books
Of the prophets upon them fall!
Amen!
Blight skull, and ear, and skin,
And hearing, and voice, and sight,
Amen! before the year be out,
Blight, Son of the Virgin, blight!
Amen!
May my curses hot and red
And all I have said this day,
Strike the Black Peeler too,
Amen, dear God, I pray!
Amen!
FRIAR BRIAN.
PREFACE.
This story was written down, word for word, and given me by my friend
Mr. C. M. Hodgson, from the telling of James Mac Donagh, one of his
brother tenants, near Oughterard, Co. Galway. It is obvious that the
story is only a fragment, and very obscure, but it is worth preserving
if only for the sake of Friar Brian's striking answer to the Devil,
which would come home with particular force to all who have ever bought
or sold at an Irish fair; the acceptance of "earnest" money is the
clinching of the bargain, behind which you cannot go. If you receive
"earnest" in the morning you may not sell again, no matter how much
higher a price may have been offered you before evening. I have heard
another story about Friar Brian.
THE STORY
There was a young man in it long ago, and long ago it was, and he had
a great love for card-playing and drinking whiskey. He came short [at
last] of money, and he did not know what he would do without money.
A man met him, and he going home in the night. "I often see you going
home this road," said the man to him.
"There's no help for it now," says he; "I have no money."
"Now," says the man, "I'll give you money every time you'll want it, if
you will give to me written with your own blood [a writing to say] that
you are mine such and such a year, at the end of one and twenty years."
It was the Devil who was in it in the shape of a man.
He gave it to him written with his share of blood that he would be his
at the end of one and twenty years.
He had money then every time ever he wanted it until the one and twenty
years were almost out, and then fear began coming on him. He went to
the priest and he told it [all] to him. "I could not do any good for
you," says the priest. "You must go to such and such a man who is going
into Ellasthrum (?) He has so much of the Devil's influence (?) that
he does be able to change round the castle door any time the wind is
blowing [too hard] on it."
He went to this man and he told him his story. "I wouldn't be able to
do you any good," says he, "you must go to Friar Brian."
He went to Friar Brian and told him his story. The one and twenty years
were all but up by this time. "Here is a stick for you," said Friar
Brian, "and cut a ring [with the stick] round about the place where
you'll stand. He [the Devil] won't be able to come inside the place
which you'll cut out with this stick. And do you be arguing with him,
and I'll be watching you both," says he. "Tell him that there must be
some judgment [passed] on the case before you depart [to go away] with
him."
"Very well," says the man.
When the appointed hour came the man was standing in the place he said.
The Devil came to him. He told the man that the time was up and that he
had to come along.
The man began to say that the time was not up. He cut a ring round
about himself with the stick which Friar Brian had given him. "Well,
then," says the man, says he [at last], "we'll leave it to the judgment
of the first person who shall come past us."
"I am satisfied," says the Diabhac.[75]
[75] Diabhac, pronounced in Connaught, d'youc; a homonym for the more
direct diabhal--devil, as "deil" in English.
Friar Brian came to the place where they were. "What is it all about
from the beginning?" says Friar Brian. The Diabhac told him that he had
this man bought for one and twenty years, and that he had to come with
him to-day; "it is left to you to judge the case."
"Now," says Friar Brian, says he, "if you were to go to a fair to buy
a cow or a horse, and if you gave earnest money for it, wouldn't you
say that it was more just for you to have it than for the man who would
come in the evening and who would buy it without paying any earnest
money for it?"
"I say," says the Diabhac, "that the man who paid earnest money for it
first, ought to get it."
"And now," says Friar Brian, "the Son of God paid earnest for this man
before you bought him."
The Diabhac had to go away then.
* * * * *
Friar Brian asked then what would be done to him now when he had not
got the man.
"I shall be put into the chamber which is for Friar Brian," said the
Diabhac.[76]
[76] The meaning seems to be, that the devil who lost his quarry would
suffer the same punishment as was reserved for Friar Brian.
"And now," said Friar Brian to the man whom he had saved, "I saved you
now," says he, "and do you save me."
"What will I be able to do for you to save you?"
"Get the axe," says Friar Brian to him, "take the head off me," says
he, "and cut me up then as fine as tobacco."[77]
[77] Compare the story of the Tobacco Prayer, p. 244.
He did that, and Friar Brian repented then, and he was saved.
He suffered himself to be cut as fine as tobacco on account of all he
had ever done out of the way. There now, that was the end of Friar
Brian.
HOW THE FIRST CAT WAS CREATED.
PREFACE.
I got the following story from my friend Dr. Conor Maguire, of
Claremorris. It explains how the first cat and first mouse were
created. I heard many such stories explaining the origin of this thing
or the other from the Red Indians in Canada, but, of course, none of
them had anything to say to Christianity. It is impossible to tell
the age of this legend, but it may be taken for granted that such
themes were common in Pagan times just as they are amongst the Red
Men to-day, and it may well be that this story in its origin is older
than Christianity itself, and that a saint may have taken the place of
an enchanter when the people became Christians. I think it is pretty
certain that this story originally concerned only the flour--the food
of man--and the mice--the enemy of the flour--and the cat--the enemy of
the mice; and that the mention of the sow and her litter is a late and
stupid interpolation.
THE STORY.
One day Mary and her Son were travelling the road, and they heavy and
tired, and it chanced that they went past the door of a house in which
there was a lock of wheat being winnowed. The Blessed Virgin went in,
and she asked an alms of wheat, and the woman of the house refused her.
"Go in again to her," said the Son, "and ask her for it in the name of
God."
She went, and the woman refused her again.