I first heard about the poem from an old woman who lives about two miles up the river. She remembers Raftery and Mary Hynes. She said, I have never seen anyone as beautiful as she was, and I never will until I die. She told me that Raftery was nearly blind and had no other way of making a living than going around and reciting poems.
She sang the poem to me and a friend in Irish, and every word was clear and expressive. My friend and I have translated parts of it, but some of it was translated by the local people.
ambergrudgeLough GreineAn old weaver[59] says, Mary Hynes was the most beautiful person ever. My mother used to tell me about her. She was always dressed in white and visited every hurling match. Eleven men asked her to be their wife in one day, but she said no to all of them. One night, some men were sitting together, drinking and talking about her. One of them decided to go to Ballylee and see her. However, he fell into Cloon Bog and was found dead the next morning. Mary died of fever before the famine. An old woman from Derrybrien[60] recalls Mary. She says, No one has ever been as beautiful as Mary. Her skin was so white that it looked blue, and she had two little blushes on her cheeks. Another wrinkled woman living near Ballylee says, I often saw Mary Hynes, and she was really beautiful. She had two curls on each cheek that were silver-colored. I also saw Mary Molloy, who drowned in the river, and Mary Guthrie from Ardrahan[61], but Mary Hynes was the most beautiful of them. She had seen too much of the world. She was a kind person. One day, I was walking through a field, feeling tired, and the Poisin Glegeal (the shining flower) appeared and gave me a glass of fresh milk. A man by the shore in Kinvara[62], who is too young to remember Mary Hynes, says, Everyone says there is no one as beautiful as her now. They say her hair was the color of gold. She was poor, but she always dressed nicely. If she attended any gathering, everyone would fight to catch a glimpse of her. Many people were in love with her, but she died young. It is said that anyone who has a song written about them wont live long.
People believe that those who are greatly admired are taken by the Sidhe (fairies). The admired and desired individuals are only safe if someone says God bless them when looking at them. The old woman who sang the song also believes that Mary Hynes was taken by the Sidhe. People from all over came to see her, and maybe some of them didnt say God bless her. She died young because the gods loved her, as the Sidhe are considered gods. The old saying about her having seen too much of the world might refer to her manner of death in ancient times. These simple country people are much closer to the ancient Greek world that valued beauty more than our educated men. When they talk about her, they blame others and not her. Although they can be harsh, they become gentle, just like the old men of Troy became gentle when Helen passed by on the walls.
The poet who made Mary Hynes famous is also well-known in the west of Ireland. Some people think Raftery was partially blind and say, I saw Raftery, a dark man, but he could still see her, or something similar. Others believe he was completely blind, especially towards the end of his life. One day, I asked a man how Raftery could have admired Mary Hynes so much if he was completely blind. He replied, I think Raftery was completely blind, but blind people have a way of seeing things. They have the power to know more, feel more, do more, and guess more than those with sight. They have a certain wit[63] and wisdom. Everyone agrees that he was very wise because he was not only blind but also a poet. The weaver, who spoke about Mary Hynes earlier, says, His poetry was a gift from God, for there are three things that are gifts from God: poetry, dancing, and principles. A man at Coole[64] adds, When he touched a certain part of his head, everything would come to him as if it was written in a book.
A friend of mine once met a man who was with Raftery when he died, but people say he died alone. Maurteen Gillane told Dr. Hyde that a light was seen going up to heaven from the roof of the house where Raftery lay all night long, and those were the angels who were with him. There was also a great light in the hovel[65] all night long, and those were the angels keeping vigil[66] over him. They honored him because he was such a good poet and sang such religious songs.
1900.II
Once, in a town up north, I had a long conversation with a man who grew up in a nearby countryside when he was a boy. He shared with me that when a remarkably beautiful girl was born into a family that wasnt known for good looks. Her beauty was believed to come from the fairies and was seen as a source of misfortune. He mentioned several names of beautiful girls he had known and said that beauty had never brought happiness to anyone. According to him, beauty was something to be proud of and afraid of. I wish I had written out his words at the time, for they were more picturesque than my memory of them.
1902.A KNIGHT OF THE SHEEP
In the north, near Ben Bulben and Copes mountain, lives a strong farmer who was once known as a knight of the sheep in the old days. He has a forceful nature[67], evident in both his words and actions. There is only one man who can swear as much as him, and that man lives far away on the mountain. When he loses his pipe, he exclaims, Father in Heaven, what have I done to deserve this? No one can match his colorful language during a lively bargaining session. He is passionate and abrupt in his movements, and when angered, he waves his white beard with his left hand.
One day, while having dinner with him, the servant-maid announced the arrival of a certain Mr. ODonnell. A sudden silence fell over the old man and his two daughters. Eventually, the eldest daughter sternly told her father, Go and invite him in for dinner. The old man went out and returned looking greatly relieved, saying, He says he wont dine with us. The daughter told him, Go out and invite him into the back parlor, and offer him some whiskey. Even though her father didnt want to do so, he got up and went to the guest. The daughter then turned to me and explained, Mr. ODonnell is the tax collector[68], and last year he raised our taxes. My father was very angry and, when he arrived, took him into the dairy. He sent the dairywoman away and continued to swear at him quite a bit. I will teach you, sir, ODonnell replied, that the law can protect its officers. But my father reminded him that there were no witnesses. Eventually, my father grew tired[69] and, feeling guilty, said he would show him a shortcut[70] home. When they were halfway to the main road, they met one of my fathers workers who was plowing[71], and this somehow reminded him of the wrong. He sent the worker away and began swearing at the tax collector again. When I heard about it, I was disgusted that he would make such a fuss[72] over a person like ODonnell. And when I learned a few weeks ago that ODonnells only son had died, I made up my mind to encourage my father to be kind to him the next time he came.
She then went out to see a neighbor, and I walked towards the back parlor. As I came closer to the door, I heard angry voices inside. The two men seemed to be discussing taxes again. I opened the door, and upon seeing my face, the farmer remembered his peaceful intentions and asked me if I knew where the whiskey was. I had seen him put it in the cupboard, so I find it and bring it out while looking at the thin, sorrowful[73] face of the tax collector. He was older than my friend and looked much weaker. Unlike my friend, who was strong and successful, he seemed like one of those who couldnt find a place to rest on this earth. I recognized him as a dreamer and said, You must be from the old ODonnell family. I know the spot in the river where their treasure[74] is buried, guarded by a serpent with many heads. Yes, sir, he replied, I am the last descendant[75] of a line of princes.
We then started talking about various ordinary things, and my friend didnt once toss up his beard but was very friendly. Eventually, the old tax collector got up to leave, and my friend said, I hope we can share a drink together next year. No, no, he replied, I will be dead by then. I have also lost sons, the other said in a gentle voice. But your sons were not like my son. And then the two men parted ways, with an angry flush[76] and bitter hearts. If I hadnt intervened[77] with some common words, they might not have parted but instead engaged in an angry argument about the worth of their dead sons. If I didnt have compassion for all dreamers, I would have let them fight it out, and I would now have many remarkable oaths[78] to record.
AN ENDURING HEART
One day, a friend of mine was drawing a picture of my Knight of the Sheep. The old mans daughter was there, and when the conversation turned to love, she said, Oh, father, tell him about your love story. The old man took his pipe out of his mouth and said, Nobody marries the person they love, and then chuckled[79], There were fifteen women I liked more than the woman I married, and he mentioned many womens names. He then told me that when he was a little boy he had worked for his grandfather. And at that time he was called by his grandfathers name, which we will say was Doran.He had a close friend named John Byrne, and one day they went to Queenstown[80] to wait for a ship that would take John Byrne to America. While walking along the quay, they saw a girl sitting and crying, with two men arguing in front of her. Doran said, I think I know whats wrong. That man must be her brother, and the other man must be her lover. The brother is sending her to America to separate her from the lover. Shes crying so much, but I think I could comfort her myself. Eventually, the lover and brother left, and Doran started talking to her, saying things like, Nice weather, Miss. She responded after a while, and the three of them began talking. The ship didnt arrive for a few days, so the three of them happily explored the area in horse-drawn carriages. When the ship finally came, Doran had to tell her that he wasnt going to America. She cried more for him than she did for her first lover. Before boarding the ship, Doran whispered to Byrne, Now, Byrne, I dont envy you, but dont get married young.
He continued the story, telling how he wrote Byrne the same advice when he received a letter about Byrnes engagement to the girl. Years passed, and he heard nothing. Finally, he went to America to find out, but he couldnt find any information. More years went by, his wife passed away, and he grew older, becoming a rich farmer with many responsibilities. He found an excuse to go back to America and resume his search. One day, he struck up a conversation with an Irishman on a train and asked about emigrants from certain places, including the millers daughter from Innis Rath[81], mentioning her name. The man replied, Oh yes, shes married to my friend, John MacEwing. She lives on such-and-such street in Chicago. Doran went to Chicago and knocked on her door. She opened it herself and hadnt changed a bit. He told her his real name, which he started using again after his grandfather passed away, and the name of the man he met on the train. She didnt recognize him but invited him to stay for dinner, saying her husband would be happy to meet someone who knew his old friend. They talked about many things, but for some reason, he never revealed his true identity to her. During dinner, he asked about Byrne, and she put her head down on the table and started crying. He was worried that her husband might get angry, so he didnt dare ask what had happened to Byrne. He left shortly after and never saw her again.
1902.THE SORCERERS[82]
In Ireland, we dont hear much about dark powers, and its rare to meet someone who has seen them. These dark powers are said to be always around us, like bats[83] on an old tree. We dont hear much about them because dark magic is not commonly practiced. I have met very few people in Ireland who try to communicate with evil powers, and they keep their activities hidden. They are usually small clerks and meet in a room with black curtains for their practices. They didnt let me into that room, but since I had some knowledge of the mysterious arts, they showed me what they could do in another place. Their leader, a clerk from a flour-mill[84], invited me to join them and witness spirits who can talk to us face to face, in solid and heavy forms like our own.
On the agreed night, I arrived around eight oclock and found the leader sitting alone in a small dim room. He was wearing a black robe that covered him completely, except for his eyes that peered through two small holes. On the table in front of him, there was a dish with burning herbs, a large bowl, a skull with painted symbols, two crossed daggers[85], and some tools shaped like stones. The sorcerer took a black rooster out of a basket and used one of the daggers to cut its throat, letting the blood flow into the large bowl. He opened a book and started an invocation in a language I couldnt understand. Before he finished, another sorcerer entered the room and sat on my left side. I had the invoker directly in front of me, and I began to feel a strange effect from his eyes. I struggled against their influence, and my head started to ache. The invocation continued, and nothing happened in the first few minutes. Then the invoker stood up and turned off the light in the room, so there was no light except for the herbs burning on the dish.
Then the person on my left started moving and exclaimed, Oh God! Oh God! I asked him what was wrong, but he didnt realize he had spoken. A moment later, he said he could see a large snake moving around the room. I didnt see anything with a clear shape, but I felt like dark clouds were forming around me. I knew I had to resist[86] entering a trance state caused by this influence, which felt evil. After a struggle, I managed to dispel the dark clouds and regain[87] my normal senses. The two sorcerers began to see black and white columns moving in the room, and eventually, they saw a man in a monks robe[88]. They were confused that I couldnt see these things because, to them, they appeared as solid as the table in front of them. The invoker seemed to be gaining more power, and I felt as if a wave of darkness was emanating[89] from him and surrounding me. I also noticed that the person on my left had fallen into a deep trance. With a final effort, I pushed away the dark clouds. However, since those clouds were the only shapes I could see without entering a trance, and I didnt particularly like them, I asked for lights to be turned on. After the necessary ritual, I returned to the ordinary world.
For several days, I couldnt shake off the feeling of having deformed and grotesque figures lingering around me. The Bright Powers are always beautiful and desirable, and the Dim Powers can be beautiful or strange. However, the Dark Powers manifest their imbalanced nature through shapes of ugliness and horror.
THE DEVIL
One day, an old woman from Mayo[90] told me that something very bad had come down the road and entered the house across from hers. She didnt say what it was, but I understood. Another time, she shared a story about two of her friends who have met the devil. One of them was standing by the roadside when the person on horseback[91] asked her to join him for a ride. When she said no, he disappeared. The other friend was waiting for her boyfriend on the road late at night when something rolled towards her. It looked like a newspaper, but suddenly it flew up into her face. It was the Irish Times[92]! Then it turned into a young man who invited her to go for a walk. She said no, and he was gone.