heart appeared to be not only elated with mirth, but also free from
resentment and jealousy. The din produced by the thumping of vigorous
feet upon the floor, the noise of the fiddle, the chat between Barny and
the little sober knot about him, together with the brisk murmur of the
general conversation, and the expression of delight which sat on every
countenance, had something in them elevating to the spirits.
Barny, who knew their voices, and even the mode of dancing peculiar to
almost every one in the barn, had some joke for each. When a young
man brings out his sweetheart--which he frequently does in a manner
irresistibly ludicrous, sometimes giving a spring from the earth, his
caubeen set with a knowing air on one side of his head, advancing at
a trot on tiptoe, catching her by the ear, leading her out to her
position, which is “to face the fiddler,” then ending by a snap of the
fingers, and another spring, in which he brings his heel backwards
in contact with his ham;--we say, when a young man brings out his
sweetheart, and places her facing the fiddler, he asks her what will
she dance; to which, if she as no favorite tune, she uniformly
replies--“Your will is my pleasure.” This usually made Barny groan
aloud.
“What ails you, Barny?”
“Oh, thin, murdher alive, how little thruth's in this world! Your will's
my pleassure! _Baithirshin!_ but, sowl, if things goes an, it won't be
long so!”
“Why, Barny,” the young man would exclaim, “is the ravin' fit comin'
over you?”
“No, in troth, Jim; _but it's thinkin' of home I am_. Howandiver, do you
go an; but, _naboklish!_ what'll ye have?”
“'Jig Polthouge,' Barny: but on your wrist ma bouchal, or Katty will
lave us both ut o' sight in no time. Whoo! success! clear the coorse.
Well done, Barny! That's the go.”
When the youngsters had danced for some time, the fathers and mothers of
the village were called upon “to step out.” This was generally the most
amusing scene in the dance. No excuse is ever taken on such occasions,
for when they refuse, about a dozen young fellows place them, will they
will they, upright upon the floor, from whence neither themselves nor
their wives are permitted to move until they dance. No sooner do they
commence, than, they are mischievously pitted against each other by two
sham parties, one encouraging the wife, the other cheering on the good
man; whilst the fiddler, falling in with the frolic, plays in his most
furious style. The simplicity of character, and, perhaps, the lurking
vanity of those who are the butts of the mirth on this occasion,
frequently heighten the jest.
“Why, thin, Paddy, is it strivin' to outdo me you are? Faiks, avourneen,
you never seen that day, any way,” the old woman would exclaim, exerting
all her vigor.
“Didn't I? Sowl, I'll sober you before I lave the flure, for all that,”
her husband would reply.
“An' do you forget,” she would rejoin, “that the M'Carthy dhrop is in
me; ay, an' it's to the good still.”
And the old dame would accompany the boast with a fresh attempt at
agility; to which Paddy would respond by “cutting the buckle,” and
snapping his fingers, whilst fifty voices, amidst roars of laughter,
were loud in encouraging each.
“Handle your feet, Kitty, darlin'--the mettle's lavin' him!”
“Off wid the brogues, Paddy, or she'll do you. That's it; kick off the
other, an' don't spare the flure.”
“A thousand guineas on Katty! M'Carthy agin Gallagher for
ever!--whirroo!”
“Blur alive the flure's not benefittin by you, Paddy. Lay on it,
man!--That's it!--Bravo!--Whish!--Our side agin Europe!”
“Success, Paddy! Why you could dance the Dusty Miller upon a flure paved
wid drawn razures, you're so soople.”
“Katty for ever! The blood's in you, Katty; you'll win the day, a _ban
choir!_ (* decent woman). More power to you!”
“I'll hould a quart on Paddy. Heel an' toe, Paddy, you sinner!”
“Right an' left, Katty; hould an', his breath's goin'.”
“Right an' wrong, Paddy, you spalpeen. The whiskey's an you, man alive:
do it decently, an' don't let me lose the wager.”
In this manner would they incite some old man, and, perhaps, his older
wife, to prolonged exertion, and keep them bobbing and jigging about,
amidst roars of laughter, until the worthy couple could dance no longer.
During stated periods of the night, those who took the most prominent
part in the dance, got a plate and hat, with which they went round the
youngsters, to make collections for the fiddler. Barny reserved his best
and most sarcastic jokes for these occasions; for so correct was
his ear, that he felt little difficulty in detecting those whose
contributions to him were such as he did not relish.
The aptitude of the Irish for enjoying humorous images was well
displayed by one or two circumstances which occurred on this night. A
few of both sexes, who had come rather late, could get no other seats
than the metal pots to which we have alluded. The young women were
dressed in white, and their companions, who were also their admirers,
exhibited, in proud display, each a bran-new suit, consisting of
broadcloth coat, yellow-buff vest, and corduroy small-clothes, with a
bunch of broad silk ribbons standing out at each knee. They were the
sons and daughters of respectable farmers, but as all distinctions here
entirely ceased, they were fain to rest contented with such seats as
they could get, which on this occasion consisted of the pots aforesaid.
No sooner, however, had they risen to dance than the house was convulsed
with laughter, heightened by the sturdy vigor with which, unconscious of
their appearance, they continued to dance. That part of the white female
dresses which had come in contact with the pots, exhibited a circle
like the full moon, and was black as pitch. Nor were their partners
more lucky: those who sat on the mouths of the pots had the back part
of their dresses streaked with dark circles, equally ludicrous. The mad
mirth with which they danced, in spite of their grotesque appearance,
was irresistible. This, and other incidents quite as pleasant--such as
the case of a wag who purposely sank himself into one of the pots, until
it stuck to him through half the dance--increased the laughter, and
disposed them to peace and cordiality.
No man took a more active part in these frolics than young Frank
M'Kenna. It is true, a keen eye might have noticed under his gayety
something of a moody and dissatisfied air. As he moved about from time
to time, he whispered something to above a dozen persons, who were well
known in the country as his intimate companions, young fellows whose
disposition and character were notoriously bad. When he communicated
the whisper, a nod of assent was given by his confidants, after which it
might be remarked that they moved round to the door with a caution that
betrayed a fear of observation, and quietly slunk out of the barn one
by one, though Frank himself did not immediately follow them. In about
a quarter of an hour afterwards, Rody came in, gave him a signal and sat
down. Frank then followed his companions, and after a few minutes
Rody also disappeared. This was about ten o'clock, and the dance was
proceeding with great gayety and animation.
Frank's dread of openly offending his parents prevented him from
assembling his associates in the dwelling-house; the only convenient
place of rendezvous, therefore, of which they could avail themselves,
was the stable. Here they met, and Frank, after uncorking a bottle of
poteen, addressed them to the following effect:
“Boys, there's great excuse for me, in regard of my fight wid Mike
Reillaghan; that you'll all allow. Come, boys, your healths! I can tell
yez you'll find this good, the divil a doubt of it; be the same token,
that I stole it from my father's Christmas dhrink; but no matther for
that--I hope we'll never do worse. So, as I was sayin', you must bear me
out as well as you can, when I'm brought before the Dilegates to-morrow,
for challengin' and strikin' a brother.* But, I think, you'll stand by
me, boys?”
* Those connected with illegal combinations are sworn
to have no private or personal quarrels, nor to strike
nor provoke each other to fight. He and Mike were
members of such societies.
“By the tarn-o'-war, Frank, myself will fight to the knees for you.”
“Faith, you may depend on us, Frank, or we're not to the fore.”
“I know it, boys; and now for a piece of fun for this night. You
see--come, Lanty, tare-an'-ounkers, drink, man alive--you see, wid
regard to Peggy Gartland--eh? what the hell! is that a cough?”
“One o' the horses, man--go an.”
“Rody, did Darby More go into the barn before you came out of it?”
“Darby More? not he. If he did, I'd a seen him surely.”
“Why, thin, I'd kiss the book I seen him goin' towards the barn, as I
was comin' into the stable. Sowl, he's a made boy, that; an' if I don't
mistake, he's in Mike Reillaghan's intherest. You know divil a secret
can escape him.”
“Hut! the prayin' ould crathur was on his way to the Midnight Mass; he
thravels slow, and, of coorse, has to set out early; besides, you know,
he has Carols, and bades, and the likes, to sell at the chapel.”
“Thrue, for you, Rody; why, I thought he might take it into his head
to watch my motions, in regard that, as I said, I think him in Mike's
intherest.”
“Nonsense, man, what the dickens 'ud bring him into the stable loft?
Why, you're beside yourself?”
“Be Gor, I bleeve so, but no matther. Boys, I want yez to stand to me
to-night: I'm given to know for a sartinty that Mike and Peggy will be
buckled to durin' the Hollydays. Now, I wish to get the girl myself; for
if I don't get her, may I be ground to atoms if he will.”
“Well, but how will you manage? for she's fond of him.”
“Why, I'll tell you that. I was over there this evenin', and I
understand that all the family is goin' to the Midnight Mass, barrin'
herself. You see, while they are all gone to the 'mallet-office,' * we'll
slip down wid a thrifle o' soot on our mugs, and walk down wid her to
Kilnaheery, beyant the mountains, to an uncle o' mine; an' affcher that,
let any man marry her who chooses to run the risk. Be the contints o'
the book, Atty, if you don't dhrink I'll knock your head agin the wall,
you gommoch!”
* Mass, humorously so called, from the fact of those
who attend it beating their breasts during their
devotions.
“Why, thin, by all that's beautiful, it's a good spree; and we'll stick
to you like pitch.”
“Be the vartue o' my oath, you don't desarve to be in it, or you'd
dhrink dacent. Why, here's another bottle, an' maybe there's more where
that was. Well, let us finish what we have, or be the five crasses, I'll
give up the whole business.”
“Why, thin, here's success to us, any way; an' high hangin' to them that
'ud desart you in your skame this blessed an' holy night that's in it!”
This was re-echoed by his friends, who pledged themselves by the most
solemn oaths not to abandon him in the perpetration of the outrage which
they had concerted. The other bottle was immediately opened, and while
it lasted, the details of the plan were explained at full length. This
over, they entered the barn one by one as before, except Frank and Rody,
who as they were determined to steal another bottle from the father's
stock, did not appear among the dancers until this was accomplished.
The re-appearance of these rollicking and reckless young fellows in
the dance, was hailed by all present; for their outrageous mirth was in
character with the genius of the place. The dance went on with spirit;
brag dancers were called upon to exhibit in hornpipes; and for this
purpose a table was bought in from Frank's kitchen on which they
performed in succession, each dancer applauded by his respective party
as the best in the barn.
In the meantime the night had advanced; the hour might be about
half-past ten o'clock; all were in the zenith of enjoyment, when old
Frank M'Kenna addressed them as follows:--
“Neighbors, the dickens o' one o' me would like to break up the
sport--an', in throth, harmless and dacent sport it is; but you all
know that this is Christmas night, and that it's our duty to attind the
Midnight Mass. Anybody that likes to hear it may go, for it's near time
to be home and prepare for it; but the sorra one o' me wants to take any
of yez from your sport, if you prefer it; all I say is, that I must lave
yez; so God be wid yez till we meet agin!”
This short speech produced a general bustle in the barn; many of the
elderly neighbors left it, and several of the young persons also. It was
Christmas Eve, and the Midnight Mass had from time immemorial so strong
a hold upon their prejudices and affections, that the temptation must
indeed have been great which would have prevented them from attending
it. When old Frank went out, about one-third of those who were
present left the dance along with them; and as the hour for mass was
approaching, they lost no time in preparing for it.
The Midnight Mass is, no doubt, a phrase familiar to our Irish readers;
but we doubt whether those in the sister kingdoms, who may honor our
book with a perusal, would, without a more particular description,
clearly understand it.
This ceremony-was performed as a commemoration not only of the night,
but of the hour in which Christ was born. To connect it either with
edification, or the abuse of religion, would be invidious; so we
overlook that, and describe it as it existed within our own memory,
remarking, by the way, that though now generally discontinued, it is in
some parts of Ireland still observed, or has been till within in a few
years ago.
The parish in which the scene of this story is laid was large,
consequently the attendance of the people was proportionably great.
On Christmas day a Roman Catholic priest has, or is said to have, the
privilege of saying three masses, though on every other day in the year
he can celebrate but two. Each priest, then, said one at midnight, and
two on the following day.
Accordingly, about twenty or thirty years ago, the performance of the
Midnight Mass was looked upon as an ordinance highly important and
interesting. The preparations for it were general and fervent; so much
so, that not a Roman Catholic family slept till they heard it. It is
true it only occurred once a year; but had any person who saw it once,
been called upon to describe it, he would say that religion could
scarcely present a scene so wild and striking.
The night in question was very dark, for the moon had long disappeared,
and as the inhabitants of the whole parish were to meet in one spot, it
may be supposed that the difficulty was very great, of traversing, in
the darkness of midnight, the space between their respective residences,
and the place appointed by the priest for the celebration of mass. The
difficulty, they contrived to surmount. From about eleven at night
till twelve or one o'clock, the parish presented a scene singularly
picturesque, and, to a person unacquainted with its causes, altogether
mysterious. Over the surface of the surrounding country were scattered
myriads of blazing torches, all converging to one point; whilst at a
distance, in the central part of the parish, which lay in a valley,
might be seen a broad focus of red light, quite stationary, with which
one or more of the torches that moved across the fields mingled every
moment. These torches were of bog-fir, dried and split for the occasion;
all persons were accordingly furnished with them, and by their blaze
contrived to make way across the country with comparative ease. This
Mass having been especially associated with festivity and enjoyment, was
always attended by such excessive numbers, that the ceremony was in
most parishes celebrated in the open air, if the weather were at all
favorable. Altogether, as we have said, the appearance of the country
at this dead hour of the night, was wild and impressive. Being Christmas
every heart was up, and every pocket replenished with money, if it could
at all be procured. This general elevation of spirits was nowhere more
remarkable than in contemplating the thousands of both sexes, old,
young, each furnished, as before said, with a blazing flambeau of
bog-fir, all streaming down the mountain sides, along the roads, or
across the fields, and settling at last into one broad sheet of fire.
Many a loud laugh might then be heard ringing the night echo into
reverberation; mirthful was the gabble in hard guttural Irish; and now
and then a song from some one whose potations had been, rather copious,
would rise on the night-breeze, to which a chorus was subjoined by a
dozen voices from the neighboring groups.
On passing the shebeen and public-houses, I the din of mingled voices
that issued from them was highly amusing, made up, as it was, of songs,
loud talk, rioting and laughter, with an occasional sound of weeping
from some one who had become penitent in big drink. In the larger
public-houses--for in Ireland there usually are one or two of these in
the immediate vicinity of each chapel, family parties were assembled,
who set in to carouse both before and after mass. Those however, who had
any love affair on hands generally selected the shebeen house, as being
private, and less calculated to expose them to general observation. As
a matter of course, these jovial orgies frequently produced such
disastrous consequences, both to human life and female reputation,
that the intrigues between the sexes, the quarrels, and violent deaths
resulting from them, ultimately occasioned the discontinuance of a
ceremony which was only productive of evil. To this day, it is an
opinion among the peasantry in many parts of Ireland, that there is
something unfortunate connected with all drinking bouts held upon
Christmas Eve. Such a prejudice naturally arises from a recollection
of the calamities which so frequently befell many individuals while
Midnight Masses were in the habit of being generally celebrated,
although it is not attributed to their existence.
None of Frank M'Kenna's family attended mass but himself and his wife.
His children having been bound by all the rules of courtesy to do the
honors of the dance, could not absent themselves from it; nor, indeed,
were they disposed to do so. Frank, however, and his “good woman,”
carried their torches, and joined the crowds which flocked to this scene
of fun and devotion.
When they had arrived at the cross-roads beside which the chapel was
situated, the first object that presented itself so prominently as to
attract observation was Darby More, dressed out in all his paraphernalia
of blanket and horn, in addition to which he held in his hand an immense
torch, formed into the figure of a cross. He was seated upon a stone,
surrounded by a ring of old men and women, to whom he sang and sold a
variety of Christmas Carols, many of them rare curiosities in their way,
inasmuch as they were his own composition. A littlee beyond them stood
Mike Keillaghan and Peggy Gartland, towards both of whom he cast from
time to time a glance of latent humor and triumph. He did not simply
confine himself to singing his carols, but, during the pauses of the
melody, addressed the wondering and attentive crowd as follows:--
“Good Christians--This is the day--howandiver, it's night now, Glory
be to God--that the angel Lucifer appeared to Shud'orth, Meeshach, an'
To-bed-we-go, in the village of Constantinople, near Jerooslem. The
heavens be praised for it, 'twas a blessed an' holy night, an' remains
so from that day to this--Oxis doxis glorioxis, Amin! Well, the sarra
one of him but appeared to thim at the hour o' midnight, but they were
asleep at the time, you see, and didn't persave him go--wid that he
pulled out a horn like mine--an', by the same token, it's lucky to wear
horns about one from that day to this--an' he put it to his lips, an'
tuck a good dacent--I mane, gave a good dacent blast that soon
roused them. 'Are yez asleep?' says he, when they awoke: 'why then,
bud-an'-age!' says he, 'isn't it a burnin' shame for able stout fellows
like yez to be asleep at the hour o' midnight of all hours o' the night.
Tare-an'-age!' says he, 'get up wid yez, you dirty spalpeens! There's
St. Pathrick in Jerooslem beyant; the Pope's signin' his mittimus
to Ireland, to bless it in regard that neither corn, nor barley, nor
phaties will grow on the land in consequence of a set of varmints
called Black-dugs that ates it up; an' there's not a glass o' whiskey
to be had in Ireland for love or money,' says Lucifer. 'Get up wid yez,'
says he, 'an' go in an' get his blessin'; sure there's not a Catholic-in
the counthry, barrin' Swaddlers, but's in the town by this,' says he:
'ay, an' many of the Protestants themselves, and the Black-mouths, an'
Blue-bellies, (* Different denominations of Dissenters) are gone in to
get a share of it. And now,' says he, 'bekase you wor so heavy-headed,
I ordher it from this out, that the present night is to be obsarved in
the Catholic church all over the world, an' must be kept holy; an' no
thrue Catholic ever will miss from this pariod an opportunity of
bein' awake at midnight,' says he, 'glory be to God!' An' now, good
Christians, you have an account o' the blessed Carol I was singin' for
yez. They're but hapuns a-piece; an' anybody that has the grace to keep
one o' these about them, will never meet wid sudden deaths or
accidents, sich as hangin', or drownin', or bein' taken suddenly wid
a configuration inwardly. I wanst knew a holy man that had a
dhrame--about a friend of his, it was----Will any of yez take one?--
“Thank you, a colleen: my blessin', the bless-in' o' the pilgrim, be an
you! God bless you, Mike Reillaghan; an' I'm proud that he put it into
your heart to buy one for the rasons you know. An' now that Father
Hoolaghan's comin', any of yez that 'ill want them 'ill find me here
agin when mass is over--Oxis doxis glorioxis, Amin!”
The priest at this time made his appearance, and those who had been
assembled on the cross-roads joined the crowd at the chapel. No sooner
was it bruited among them that their pastor had arrived, than the noise,
gabble, singing, and laughing were immediately hushed; the shebeen and
public-houses were left untenanted; and all flocked to the chapel-green,
where mass was to be said, as the crowd was too large to be contained
within the small chapel.
Mike Reillaghan and Peggy Gartland were among the last who sought
the “green;” as lovers, they probably preferred walking apart, to the
inconvenience of being jostled by the multitude. As they sauntered on
slowly after the rest, Mike felt himself touched on the shoulder, and on
turning round, found Darby More beside him.
“It's painful to my feelin's,” observed the mendicant, “to have to
say this blessed night that your father's son should act so shabby an'
ondacent.”
“Saints above! how, Darby?”
“Why, don't you know that only for me--for what I heard, an' what I
tould you--you'd not have the purty girl here at your elbow? Wasn't it,
as I said, his intintion to come and whip down the colleen to Kilnaheery
while the family 'ud be at mass; sure only for this, I say, you
bosthoon, an' that I made you bring her to mass, where 'ud the purty
colleen be? why half way to Kilnaheery, an' the girl disgraced for
ever!”
“Thrue for you, Darby, I grant it: but what do you want me to do?”
“Oh, for that matther, nothin' at all, Mike; only I suppose that when
your tailor made the clothes an you, he put no pockets to them?”
“Oh, I see where you are, Darby! well, here's a crown for you; an' when
Peggy an' I's made man and wife, you'll get another.”
“Mike, achora, I see you are your father's son still; now listen to me:
first you needn't fear sudden death while you keep that blessed Carol
about you; next get your friends together goin' home, for Frank might
jist take the liberty, wid about a score of his 'boys,' to lift her
from you even thin. Do the thing, I say--don't thrust him; an' moreover,
watch in her father's house tonight wid your friends. Thirdly, make it
up wid Frank; there's an oath upon you both, you persave? Make it up
wid him, if he axes you: don't have a broken oath upon you; for if you
refuse, he'll put you out o' connection, (* That is, out of connection
with Ribbonism) an' that 'ud plase him to the back-bone.”