A Few Gleanings from Tir-na-nog

Irish Jesuit Province

A Few Gleanings from Tir-na-nogAuthor(s): Ellen O'ConnorSource: The Irish Monthly, Vol. 41, No. 481 (Jul., 1913), pp. 384-388Published by: Irish Jesuit ProvinceStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20503422 .

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[ 384 ]

A FEW GLEANINGS FROM TIR-NA-NOG

By E. O'CONNOR

BELIEF in fairies comes as natural to the Irishman as the shamrock does to the soil of Erin. Even in this present hard-headed age there are still people to be found, in

every part of the country, who take a keen interest in the doings of the little folk, though the origin of fairy lore is as difficult to ascertain as it is to catch a leprechaun.

Many people hold that the fairies are just the spirits of the Tuatha de Danaan, the race of Ossian and Aideen, of men who came to Ireland so long ago that their memory is shrouded in the dim mists of legendary lore. Yet, I think, they date from ages before Christ. Till He came, gross ignorance and paganism prevailed over most of the world. The thoughtful amongst men, noting the measured flight of time, the movements of ocean and

wind, the beauty of earth and sky, said: "Surely there must be some force or forces ruling the universe. " Grcpir.g for the Light through the fog of doubt and ignorance, they found but the satellites of Light-but Nature and her forces. These they deified till " One arose, a Promethean Conqueror," who swept the Golden Age, the age of the gods, away, and the old order changed yielding place to new. Many poets, Shelley and Schiller amongst the number, have lamented the passing of the old time great ones, forgetting that they still exist under the name of fairies.

Though they are fallen from their high estate, the fairies still retain the half-human, half-divine nature which was theirs whien all was young. Strongly resenting slights, they are implacable in their anger and always seek revenge. In particular the curiosity of mortals seems to give them great annoyance-if we

may judge from the following story. A young piper, of a very enquiring turn of mind, hid himself in a cavern where the elves were supposed to dance to most delightful music.: He thought that besides gratifying his curiosity he might learn some of their bewitching melodies, to play for his colleen dhas. Unfortunately the sprites discovered him, and decided that he should have some

great punishment. First they taught him their loveliest melodies, and then, with delicate irony, condemned him to play them underground for ever. Yet if the fairies are careful to punish



A FEW GLEANINGS FROM TIR-NA-NOG 385

the man who offends them, they are just as anxious to reward anyone who does them a good turn. For instance, a poor shoe

maker saved one of their favourite trees-a big whitethorn from the axe, and the grateful sprites hastened to show their appreciation of his kindness. Night after night, while their benefactor was asleep, a leprechaun would visit the workshop, and hammer away there till daylight. Soon Shaun became famous for his excellent foot-gear, and customers flocked from all parts. He had the good sense to remain silent concerning his fairy assistant, and it was not long till he became a rich man.

As human as these qualities are their pastimes, which consist principally of feasting and dancing, St. John's Eve being a very important fete-day in their calendar. That is, if anyone may say that " the good people," as they are sometimes called, note any lapse of time, for they dwell in Tir-na-nOg, the Land of Perpetual Youth, where years slip round as minutes, where no worm lurks in the rose, where everything radiates with immortal life and happiness and beauty. It is a " Land of Heart's Desire,"

where

The wind blows out of the gates of the day, The wind blows over the lonely of heart,

And the lonely of heart is withered away, While the faeries dance in a place apart,

Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring, Tossing their milk-white arms in the air:

For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and sing Of a land where even the old are fair.

But even in this never-old country the little folk long for mortal companions. A pretty colleen's winsome eyes may win

the heart of an elfin prince, and perhaps a fairy woman, tiring of her own child, may long for the sweet dimpled face of a mortal baby, or she too may fall in love with a fine strapping peasant. And without any scruple the coveted beings are snatched away to some old rath to dwell for ever with their fairy captors. Odd

methods of wooing have elfin lovers. If a colleen is the prize, her damon admirer meets her at milking time and makes love to her. In a little while she falls into what seems, to the uniniti ated, a decline, and fades away. But the old people, the wise acres, shake their heads and say:% "Sure, she met the Love talker the last foggy evening in the glen, and he told her he would

come for her soon." Still more charmingly unconventional are the lovely fairy women in courting the youths they love. A

young peasant once went a-fishing by moonlight with a hazel rod, and landed a little silver trout. Home to his cabin he



386 THE IRISH MONTHLY

brought it for his supper, to find that it turned into a beautiful girl who called him by his name and disappeared. Ravished with her loveliness, the poor fisherman sought her everywhere, till at last he joined her in Tir-na-nOg, where

In the yellow of her hair his dreams lie curled, And her arms make the rim of his rainbow world.

Those he left behind mourned him deeply, but he quickly forgot them in Lethean pleasures of the Land of Ycuth. Manv are the stories of this nature that are told, but most of them represent the poor fisherman as, like " Wandering X?ngus," still pursuing his bewitching will-o'-the-wisp, vowing

Though I am old with wandering, Though hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done. The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.

Rarely does any mortal return from the land where dwells XAngus in " dainty blossom of beauty," unless holy water is used in what may be termed "the extradition proc&edings." A pretty farmer's wife was so unfortunate as to attract the attention of the fairy queen, who had her carried off to her rath. One May morning her heart-broken husband caught a glimpse of her while she was riding with the shadowy host. Rushing for ward Dan tried to seize his wife, but, like Anchises of old, grasped only the empty air. In despair he sought the advice of a fairy doctor, who told him to wait in the same place at midnight on St. John's Eve, sprinkle a ring of holy water on the ground, and when his wife would ride by, to snatch her within the charmed circle. Dan followed his instruction and won back his Nancy.

These fairy doctors are held in great reverence by the peasants, who believe that they are quite familiar with the fairies, and can take pishogues, as enchantment is called, off people and animals. In some districts they are thought to be really changelings, that is actual elves, who, years ago, had been substituted for mortal children. Whoever these dark men are, their regulations are carefully observed by the simple country people.

They say that no rath should be demolished, no stones taken from off a cairn, no ring where the fairies are accustomed to dance in the moonlight ploughed up, or woe betide the offender. The injured sprites may content themselves with playing tricks on



A FEW GLEANINGS FROM TIR-NA-HOG 387

the culprit, such as leading him astray in the dark through will o'-the-wisp, visiting him at night with unpleasant dreams, throwing down his walls or substituting an unmanageable fairy steed, the phooka, for his own horse. Not always is the punish

mnent so slight. The farmer's crops may fail, his cows run dry, the butter will not come, he himself may meet with some serious accident or, worse still, a mysterious death. This last is reserved for the daring mortal who ventures out on certain November nights, when the good people ride the storm. They will force him to join in their windy revels and though he spends the dark hours with them, daylight brings forgetfulness of where he has been. Often he shall find himself compelled to go with them,

and, by degrees, the look of the " dark man," of one who converses with another world, will creep into his eyes. His wife and children mourn him as already dead. One morning he will never return and his vanithee, straining her eyes to watch for his coming, sees nothing but a withered leaf that floats on the wind round the cabin, and his

children will inherit The unrest of the wind, They shall seek some face elusive, And some land they never find.

No greater penalty than that of spending the night in the open is attached to the offence of trespassing on elfin territory. There is a story told of a man who had recourse to a novel device to save himself from this punishment. Coming home late one night he tried to take a short cut through a certain wood, com

pletely forgetting that, after dark, it was sacred to Queen Maeve and her court. When he arrived in the middle of the forbidden ground he found that he could neither go on nor go back. The prospect of passing the night in this plight was not pleasant, so

he began to wonder was there anything he could do to break the spell. Suddenly, .a happy thought struck him. He re

membered to have heard that if a benighted stroller in this par ticular wood tookoff his coat, turned it inside out, and put it on back to front, he would banish the pishogues. Our friend tried this plan and immediately found himself free to walk where he pleased. Needless to say, he did not lose much time in getting home. Whatever virtue the wrong side of a coat has, I do not

know, but the hero of the story says it got him out of his difficulty. Just as amusing are many other things done to propitiate the

fairies. Till quite recently the peasants in some parts of the

country would not spray potatoes, thinking that the blight was



388 THE IRISH MONTHLY

due to some supernatural agency. If a girsha spills milk while she is milking the cows, no one blames her, as the fairies are sup posed to cause the apparent wave. The first of the butter, also, is set aside for " the good people," and in Connemara the peasants throw the first piece of a potato away to refresh any chance elfin stroller. In some districts it is thought well to leave the back door unfastened at night, as the f airies may wish to come into the fire. And for them, too, the hearth is swept by the vanithea before she goes to bed, and some food left prepared. In return for this courtesy, the good people are supposed to leave good luck behind them. Last summer in the West I heard a strange story of this kind, a story of an unearthly visitant and of the legacy she left.

In the district of Annaghdown, about seven or eight miles north of Galway, it is the custom on Lady Day for every wornaar when retiring to rest, to leave a good fire and a bowl of cream ready in the kitchen; for the people being rather superstitious and, like the rest of us Irish, gifted with a lively imagination, believe that a beautiful lady visits and blesses each house prepared for her. In this particular home everything was left in order for the expected guest, the vanithee leaving her baby sleeping in its cradle near the fire. During the night the

mother was awakened by a low, sweet music coming from the kitchen, while a great light filled the house. Creeping to the door she peeped in and saw a lady of surpassing loveliness rocking her little one to sleep while she crooned a lullaby never heard before on earth. Fascinated with the brightness of the vision and the soft, exquisite melody, the vanithee watched till dav break, when, at cockcrow, the unearthly visitant vanished. However, the mother remembered the lullaby, a-nd it was handed down from generation to generation till it fell into the hands of a great Irish enthusiast who now sleeps on a little hill in Con nemara, overlooking the wide Atlantic. From him a few others learnt the wonderful air, which, however, has never been pub lished. Some people say that the lovely singer was Our Lady, others that she was from Tir-na-nOg, but all agree that the lullaby is worthy of a world beyond our world. A croon off haunting, melting sweetness, it twines itself in and out through one's heart-strings, whispering of rest and happiness in sonme dim shadowy land that floats " east of the sun, west of the moon." If, as they say, Tir-na-nOg has such music, all men would fain bt "Peter Pans."

ELLEN O'CONNOR



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A Few Gleanings from Tir-na-nog