CHAPTER V.

'I am a bold bachelor, airy and free,Both cities and counties are equal to me.'(Old Song.)

'I am a bold bachelor, airy and free,Both cities and counties are equal to me.'

'I am a bold bachelor, airy and free,

Both cities and counties are equal to me.'

(Old Song.)

'Do that out of the face,' i.e. begin at the beginning and finish it out and out: a translation ofdeun sin as eudan.

'The day is rising' means the day is clearing up,—the rain, or snow, or wind is ceasing—the weather is becoming fine: a common saying in Ireland: a translation of the usual Irish expressiontá an láag éirghidh. During the height of the great wind storm of 1842 a poorshooleror 'travelling man' from Galway, who knew little English, took refuge in a house in Westmeath, where the people were praying in terror that the storm might go down. He joined in, and unconsciously translating from his native Irish, he kept repeating 'Musha, that the Lord may rise it, that the Lord may rise it.' At which the others were at first indignant, thinking he was asking God toraisethe wind higher still. (Russell.)

Sometimes two prepositions are used where one would do:—'The dog gotin underthe bed:' 'Where is James? He'sin inthe room—or inside in the room.'

'Old woman, old woman, old woman,' says I,'Where are you going up so high?''To sweep the cobwebsoff o'the sky.'

'Old woman, old woman, old woman,' says I,

'Where are you going up so high?'

'To sweep the cobwebsoff o'the sky.'

Whether this duplicationoff ofis native Irish or old English it is not easy to say: but I find this expression in 'Robinson Crusoe':—'For the first time since the stormoff ofHull.'

Eva, the witch, says to the children of Lir, when she had turned them into swans:—Amach daoibh a chlann an righ: 'Out with you [on the water] ye children of the king.' This idiom which is quite common in Irish, is constantly heard among English speakers:—'Away with you now'—'Be off with yourself.'

'Are you going away now?' One of the Irish forms of answering this isNí fós, which in Kerry the people translate 'no yet,' considering this nearer to the original than the usual English 'not yet.'

The usual way in Irish of sayinghe diedisfuair sé bás, i.e. 'he found (or got) death,' and this is sometimes imitated in Anglo-Irish:—'He was near getting his death from that wetting'; 'come out of that draught or you'll get your death.'

The following curious form of expression is very often heard:—'Remember you have gloves to buy for me in town'; instead of 'you have to buy me gloves.' 'What else have you to do to-day?' 'I have a top to bring to Johnny, and when I come home I have the cows to put in the stable'—instead of 'I have to bring a top'—'I have to put the cows.' This is an imitation of Irish, though not, I think, a direct translation.

What may be called the Narrative Infinitive is a very usual construction in Irish. An Irish writer, relating a past event (and using the Irish language) instead of beginning his narrative in this way, 'Donall O'Brien went on an expedition against the English of Athlone,' will begin 'Donall O'Briento goon an expedition,' &c. No Irish examples of this need be given here, as they will be found in every page of the Irish Annals, as well as in other Irish writings. Nothing like this exists in English, but the people constantly imitate it in the Anglo-Irish speech. 'How did you come by all that money?' Reply:—'To get into the heart of the fair' (meaning 'I got into the heart of the fair'), and to cryold china, &c. (Gerald Griffin.) 'How was that, Lowry?' asks Mr. Daly: and Lowry answers:—'Some of them Garryowen boys sir to get about Danny Mann.' (Gerald Griffin: 'Collegians.') 'How did the mare get that hurt?' 'Oh Tom Cody to leapher over the garden wall yesterday, and she to fall on her knees on the stones.'

The Irish language has the wordannsoforhere, but it has no corresponding wordderived from annso, to signifyhither, though there are words for this too, but not fromannso. A similar observation applies to the Irish for the wordsthereandthither, and forwhereandwhither. As a consequence of this our people do not usehither,thither, andwhitherat all. They makehere,there, andwheredo duty for them. Indeed much the same usage exists in the Irish language too:Is ann tigdaois eunlaith(Keating): 'It isherethe birds used to come,' instead ofhither. In consequence of all this you will hear everywhere in Anglo-Irish speech:—'John came here yesterday': 'come here Patsy': 'your brother is in Cork and you ought to gothereto see him': 'wheredid you go yesterday after you parted from me?'

'Well Jack how are you these times?' 'Oh, indeed Tom I'm purty well thank you—all that's left of me': a mock way of speaking, as if the hard usage of the world had worn him to a thread. 'Is Frank Magaveen there?' asks the blind fiddler. 'All that's left of me is here,' answers Frank. (Carleton.) These expressions, which are very usual, and many others of the kind, are borrowed from the Irish. In the Irish tale, 'The Battle of Gavra,' poor old Osheen, the sole survivor of the Fena, says:—'I know not where to follow them [his lost friends]; and this makesthe little remnant that is left of mewretched. (D'fúig sin m'iarsma).

Ned Brophy, introducing his wife to Mr. Lloyd, says, 'this isherselfsir.' This is an extremelycommon form of phrase. 'Isherself[i.e. the mistress] at home Jenny?' 'I'm afraid himself [the master of the house] will be very angry when he hears about the accident to the mare.' This is an Irish idiom. The Irish chiefs, when signing their names to any document, always wrote the name in this form,Misi O'Neill, i.e. 'Myself O'Neill.'

A usual expression is 'I have no Irish,' i.e. I do not know or speak Irish. This is exactly the way of saying it in Irish, of which the above is a translation:—Ní'l Gaodhlainn agum.

Tolet onis to pretend, and in this sense is used everywhere in Ireland. 'Oh your father is very angry': 'Not at all, he's only letting on.' 'If you meet James don't let on you saw me,' is really a positive, not a negative request: equivalent to—'If you meet James, let on (pretend) that you didn't see me.' A Dublin working-man recently writing in a newspaper says, 'they passed me on the bridge (Cork), and never let on to see me' (i.e. 'they let on not to see me').

'He is allas one asrecovered now'; he is nearly the same as recovered.

At the proper season you will often see auctioneers' posters:—'To be sold by auction 20 acres of splendid meadowon foot,' &c. This termon foot, which is applied in Ireland togrowingcrops of all kinds—corn, flax, meadow, &c.—is derived from the Irish language, in which it is used in the oldest documents as well as in the everyday spoken modern Irish; the usual wordcosfor 'foot' being used. Thus in the Brehon Laws we are told that a wife's share of the flax is one-ninth if it be on foot (for a cois,'on its foot,' modern formair a chois) one-sixth after being dried, &c. In one place a fine is mentioned for appropriating or cutting furze if it be 'on foot.' (Br. Laws.)

This mode of speaking is applied in old documents to animals also. Thus in one of the old Tales is mentioned a present of a swine and an oxon foot(for a coiss, 'on their foot') to be given to Mac Con and his people, i.e. to be sent to them alive—not slaughtered. (Silva Gadelica.) But I have not come across this application in our modern Irish-English.

To give a thing 'for God's sake,' i.e. to give it in charity or for mere kindness, is an expression very common at the present day all over Ireland. 'Did you sell your turf-rick to Bill Fennessy?' Oh no, I gave it to him for God's sake: he's very badly off now poor fellow, and I'll never miss it.' Our office attendant Charlie went to the clerk, who was chary of the pens, and got a supply with some difficulty. He came back grumbling:—'A person would think I was asking them for God's sake' (a thoroughly Hibernian sentence). This expression is common also in Irish, both ancient and modern, from which the English is merely a translation. Thus in the Brehon Laws we find mention of certain young persons being taught a trade 'for God's sake' (ar Dia), i.e. without fee: and in another place a man is spoken of as giving a poor person something 'for God's sake.'

The word'nough, shortened fromenough, is always used in English with the possessive pronouns, in accordance with the Gaelic construction in such phrases asgur itheadar a n-doithin díobh, 'So thatthey ate their enough of them' ('Diarmaid and Grainne'):d'ith mo shaith'I ate my enough.' Accordingly uneducated people use the word'noughin this manner, exactly asfillis correctly used in 'he ate his fill.' Lowry Looby wouldn't like to be 'a born gentleman' for many reasons—among others that you're expected 'not to ate half your 'nough at dinner.' (Gerald Griffin: 'Collegians.')

The wordsworldandearthoften come into our Anglo-Irish speech in a way that will be understood and recognised from the following examples:—'Where in the world are you going so early?' 'What in the world kept you out so long?' 'What on earth is wrong with you?' 'That cloud looks for all the world like a man.' 'Oh you young thief of the world, why did you do that?' (to a child). These expressions are all thrown in for emphasis, and they are mainly or altogether imported from the Irish. They are besides of long standing. In the 'Colloquy'—a very old Irish piece—the king of Leinster says to St. Patrick:—'I do not knowin the worldhow it fares [with my son].' So also in a still older story, 'The Voyage of Maildune':—'And they [Maildune and his people] knew not whitherin the world(isan bith) they were going. In modern Irish,Ní chuirionn sé tábhacht a n-éinidh san domhuin: 'he minds nothing in the world.' (Mac Curtin.)

But I think some of the above expressions are found in good English too, both old and new. For example in a letter to Queen Elizabeth the Earl of Ormond (an Irishman—one of the Butlers) designates a certain Irish chief 'that most arrogant,vile, traitor of the world Owney M‘Rorye' [O'Moore]. But perhaps he wrote this with an Irish pen.

A person does something to displease me—insults me, breaks down my hedge—and I say 'I will not let that go with him': meaning I will bring him to account for it, I will take satisfaction, I will punish him. This, which is very usual, is an Irish idiom. In the story of The Little Brawl of Allen, Goll boasts of having slain Finn's father; and Finn answersbud maith m'acfainnse ar gan sin do léicen let, 'I am quite powerful enough not to let that go with you.' ('Silva Gadelica.') Sometimes this Anglo-Irish phrase means to vie with, to rival. 'There's no doubt that old Tom Long is very rich': 'Yes indeed, but I think Jack Finnertywouldn't let it go with him.' Lory Hanly at the dance, seeing his three companions sighing and obviously in love with three of the ladies, feels himself just as bad for a fourth, and sighing, says to himself that he 'wouldn't let it go with any of them.' ('Knocknagow.')

'I give in to you' means 'I yield to you,' 'I assent to (or believe) what you say,' 'I acknowledge you are right': 'He doesn't give in that there are ghosts at all.' This is an Irish idiom, as will be seen in the following:—[A lion and three dogs are struggling for the mastery and]adnaigit [an triur eile] do [an leomain]'And the three others gave in to the [lion].'

This mode of expression is however found in English also:—[Beelzebub] 'proposes a third undertaking which the whole assembly gives in to.' (Addison in 'Spectator.')

Foris constantly used before the infinitive: 'he bought clothfor tomake a coat.'

'And "Oh sailor dear," said she,"How came you here by me?"And then she beganfor to cry.'(Old Irish Folk Song.)

'And "Oh sailor dear," said she,"How came you here by me?"And then she beganfor to cry.'

'And "Oh sailor dear," said she,

"How came you here by me?"

And then she beganfor to cry.'

(Old Irish Folk Song.)

'King James he pitched his tents betweenHis linesfor to retire.'(Old Irish Folk Song: 'The Boyne Water.')

'King James he pitched his tents betweenHis linesfor to retire.'

'King James he pitched his tents between

His linesfor to retire.'

(Old Irish Folk Song: 'The Boyne Water.')

This idiom is in Irish also:Deunaidh duthracht le leas bhur n-anma a dheunadh: 'make an effortfor to accomplishthe amendment of your souls.' ('Dunlevy.') Two Irish prepositions are used in this sense offor:le(as above) andchum. But this use offoris also very general in English peasant language, as may be seen everywhere in Dickens.

Is ceangailte do bhidhinn, literally 'It is bound I should be,' i.e. in English 'I should be bound.' This construction (from 'Diarmaid and Grainne'), in which the position of the predicate as it would stand according to the English order is thrown back, is general in the Irish language, and quite as general in our Anglo-Irish, in imitation or translation. I once heard a man say in Irishis e do chailleamhuin do rinn me: 'It is to lose it I did' (I lost it). The following are everyday examples from our dialect of English: ''Tis to rob me you want': 'Is it at the young woman's house the wedding is to be?' ('Knocknagow'): 'Is it reading you are?' ''Twas to dhrame it I did sir' ('Knocknagow'): 'Maybe 'tis turned out I'd be' ('Knocknagow'): 'To lose it I did' (Gerald Griffin: 'Collegians'): 'Well John I am glad tosee you, and it's right well you look': [Billy thinks the fairy is mocking him, and says:—] 'Is it after making a fool of me you'd be?' (Crofton Croker): 'To make for Rosapenna (Donegal) we did:' i.e., 'We made for Rosapenna': 'I'll tell my father about your good fortune, and 'tis he that will be delighted.'

In the fine old Irish story the 'Pursuit of Dermot and Grania,' Grania says to her husband Dermot:—[Invite guests to a feast to our daughter's house]agus ní feas nach ann do gheubhaidh fear chéile; 'and there is no knowing but that there she may get a husband.' This is almost identical with what Nelly Donovan says in our own day—in half joke—when she is going to Ned Brophy's wedding:—'There'll be some likely lads there to-night, and who knows what luck I might have.' ('Knocknagow.') This expression 'there is no knowing but' or 'who knows but,' borrowed as we see from Gaelic, is very common in our Anglo-Irish dialect. 'I want the loan of £20 badly to help to stock my farm, but how am I to get it?' His friend answers:—'Just come to the bank, and who knows but that they will advance it to you on my security:' meaning 'it is not unlikely—I think it rather probable—that they will advance it'

'He looks like a manthat there would beno money in his pocket': 'there'sa man that his wife leaves himwhenever she pleases.' These phrases and the like are heard all through the middle of Ireland, and indeed outside the middle: they are translations from Irish. Thus the italics of the second phrase would be in Irishfear dá d-tréigeann a bhean é(ora thréigeas a bhean é). 'Poor brave honest Mat Donovan that everyone is proud ofhimand fondofhim' ('Knocknagow'): 'He was a descendant of Sir Thomas More that Henry VIII. cut his head off' (whose head Henry VIII. cut off). The phrases above are incorrect English, as there is redundancy; but they, and others like them, could generally be made correct by the use ofwhoseorof whom:—'He looks like a man in whose pocket,' &c.—'A man whose wife leaves him.' But the people in general do not make use ofwhose—in fact they do not know how to use it, except at the beginning of a question:—'Whose knife is this?' (Russell.) This is an excellent example of how a phrase may be good Irish but bad English.

A man possesses some prominent quality, such as generosity, for which his father was also distinguished, and we say 'kind father for him,' i.e. 'He is of the samekindas his father—he took it from his father.' So also ''Tis kind for the cat to drink milk'—'cat after kind'—''Tis kind for John to be good and honourable' [for his father or his people were so before him]. All this is from Irish, in which various words are used to express the idea ofkindin this sense:—bu cheneulta do—bu dhual do—bu dhuthcha do.

Very anxious to do a thing: ''Twas all his trouble to do so and so' ('Collegians'): corresponding to the Irish:—'Is é mo chúram uile,' 'He (or it) is all my care.' (MacCurtin.)

Instead of 'The box will hold all the parcels' or 'All the parcels will fit into the box,' we in Ireland commonly say 'All the parcelswill gointo the box.' This is from a very old Gaelic usage, as may be seen from this quotation from the 'Boroma':—Coire mór uma í teigtís dá muic déc: 'A large bronze caldroninto whichwould go(téigtís) twelve [jointed] pigs.' ('Silva Gadelica.')

Chevilles.What is called in French acheville—I do not know any Irish or English name for it—is a phrase interjected into a line of poetry merely to complete either the measure or the rhyme, with little or no use besides. The practice of using chevilles was very common in old Irish poetry, and a bad practice it was; for many a good poem is quite spoiled by the constant and wearisome recurrence of thesechevilles. For instance here is a translation of a couple of verses from 'The Voyage of Maildune' with theirchevilles:—

'They met with an island after sailing—wonderful the guidance.'The third day after, on the end of the rod—deed of power—The chieftain found—it was a very great joy—a cluster of apples.'

'They met with an island after sailing—

wonderful the guidance.

'The third day after, on the end of the rod—

deed of power—

The chieftain found—it was a very great joy—

a cluster of apples.'

In modernIrishpopular poetry we havechevillesalso; of which I think the commonest is the little phrasegan go, 'without a lie'; and this is often reflected in our Anglo-Irish songs. In 'Handsome Sally,' published in my 'Old Irish Music and Songs,' these lines occur:—

'Young men and maidens I pray draw near—The truth to you I will now declare—How a fair young lady's heart was wonAll by the loving of a farmer's son.'

'Young men and maidens I pray draw near—

The truth to you I will now declare—

How a fair young lady's heart was won

All by the loving of a farmer's son.'

And in another of our songs:—

'Good people all I pray draw near—No lie I'll tell to ye—About a lovely fair maid,And her name is Polly Lee.'

'Good people all I pray draw near—

No lie I'll tell to ye—

About a lovely fair maid,

And her name is Polly Lee.'

This practice is met with also in English poetry, both classical and popular; but of course this is quite independent of the Irish custom.

Assonance.In the modern Irish language the verse rhymes areassonantal. Assonance is the correspondence of the vowels: the consonants count for nothing. Thusfair,may,saint,blaze,there, all rhyme assonantally. As it is easy to find words that rhyme in this manner, the rhymes generally occur much oftener in Anglo-Irish verse than in pure English, in which the rhymes are what English grammarians callperfect.

Our rustic poets rhyme their English (or Irish-English) verse assonantally in imitation of their native language. For a very good example of this, see the song of Castlehyde in my 'Old Irish Music and Songs'; and it may be seen in very large numbers of our Anglo-Irish Folk-songs. I will give just one example here, a free translation of an elegy, rhyming like its original. To the ear of a person accustomed to assonance—as for instance to mine—the rhymes here are as satisfying as if they wereperfectEnglish rhymes.

You remember ourneighbour MacBrady we buried lastYEAR;His death itamazed me anddazed me with sorrow andGRIEF;Fromcradle togravehisnamewas held inESTEEM;For atfairsand atwakesthere was no one like him for aSPREE;And 'tis he knew thewayhow tomakea good cag of potTHEEN.He'd make verses inGaelic quiteaisy mostplazing toREAD;And he knew how toplazethe fairmaidswith his sootheringSPEECH.He could clear out afairat hisaisewith his ash clehalPEEN;But ochone he's nowlaidin hisgravein the churchyard ofKeel.

You remember ourneighbour MacBrady we buried lastYEAR;

His death itamazed me anddazed me with sorrow andGRIEF;

Fromcradle togravehisnamewas held inESTEEM;

For atfairsand atwakesthere was no one like him for aSPREE;

And 'tis he knew thewayhow tomakea good cag of potTHEEN.

He'd make verses inGaelic quiteaisy mostplazing toREAD;

And he knew how toplazethe fairmaidswith his sootheringSPEECH.

He could clear out afairat hisaisewith his ash clehalPEEN;

But ochone he's nowlaidin hisgravein the churchyard ofKeel.

THE DEVIL AND HIS 'TERRITORY.'

Bad as the devil is he has done us some service in Ireland by providing us with a fund of anecdotes and sayings full of drollery and fun. This is all against his own interests; for I remember reading in the works of some good old saint—I think it is St. Liguori—that the devil is always hovering near us watching his opportunity, and that one of the best means of scaring him off is a good honest hearty laugh.

Those who wish to avoid uttering the plain straight name 'devil' often call him 'the Old Boy,' or 'Old Nick.'

In some of the stories relating to the devil he is represented as a great simpleton and easily imposed upon: in others as clever at everything. In many he gets full credit for his badness, and all his attributes and all his actions are just the reverse of the good agencies of the world; so that his attempts at evil often tend for good, while anything he does for good—or pretending to be for good—turns to evil.

When a person suffers punishment or injury of any kind that is well deserved—gets his deserts for misconduct or culpable mismanagement or excessive foolishness of any kind—we say 'the devil's cure to him,' or 'the devil mend him' (as much as to sayin English 'serve him right'); for if the devil goes to cure or to mend he only makes matters ten times worse. Dick Millikin of Cork (the poet of 'The Groves of Blarney') was notoriously a late riser. One morning as he was going very late to business, one of his neighbours, a Quaker, met him. 'Ah friend Dick thou art very late to-day: remember the early bird picks the worm.' 'The devil mend the worm for being out so early,' replied Dick. So also 'the devil bless you' is a bad wish, because the devil's blessing is equivalent to the curse of God; while 'the devil's curse to you' is considered a good wish, for the devil's curse is equal to God's blessing. (Carleton.) The devil comes in handy in many ways. What could be more expressive than this couplet of an old song describing a ruffian in a rage:—

'He stamped and he cursed and he swore he would fight,And I saw theoulddevil between his two eyes.'

'He stamped and he cursed and he swore he would fight,

And I saw theoulddevil between his two eyes.'

Sometimes the devil is taken as the type of excellence or of great proficiency in anything, or of great excess, so that you often hear 'That fellow is as old as the devil,' 'That beefsteak is as tough as the devil,' 'He beats the devil for roguery,' 'My landlord is civil, but dear as the divil.' (Swift: who wrote this with a pen dipped in Irish ink.)

A poor wretch or a fellow always in debt and difficulty, and consequently shabby, is a 'poor devil'; and not very long ago I heard a friend say to another—who was not sparing of his labour—'Well, there's no doubt but you're a hard-working old devil.'

Very bad potatoes:—'Wet and watery, scabby and small, thin in the ground and hard to dig, hard to wash, hard to boil, andthe devil to eat them.'

'I don't wonder that poor Bill should be always struggling, for he has the devil of an extravagant family.'

'Oh confusion to you Dan,' says the T. B. C.,'You're the devil of a man,' says the T. B. C.(Repeal Song of 1843.)

'Oh confusion to you Dan,' says the T. B. C.,'You're the devil of a man,' says the T. B. C.

'Oh confusion to you Dan,' says the T. B. C.,

'You're the devil of a man,' says the T. B. C.

(Repeal Song of 1843.)

(But this form of expression occurs in Dickens—'Our Mutual Friend'—'I have a devil of a temper myself'). An emphatic statement:—'I wouldn't like to trust him, for he's thedevil's ownrogue.'

'There's no use in your trying that race against Johnny Keegan, for Johnny is the very devil at running.' 'Oh your reverence,' says Paddy Galvin, 'don't ax me to fast; but you may put as much prayers on me as you like: for, your reverence, I'm very bad at fasting, but I'm the divel at the prayers.' According to Mr. A. P. Graves, in 'Father O'Flynn,' the 'Provost and Fellows of Trinity' [College, Dublin] are 'the divels an' all at Divinity.' This last expression is truly Hibernian, and is very often heard:—A fellow is boasting how he'll leather Jack Fox when next he meets him. 'Oh yes, you'll do thedevil an' allwhile Jack is away; but wait till he comes to the fore.'

In several of the following short stories and sayings the simpleton side of Satan's character is well brought out.

Damer of Shronell, who lived in the eighteenth century, was reputed to be the richest man in Ireland—a sort of Irish Croesus: so that 'as rich asDamer' has become a proverb in the south of Ireland. An Irish peasant song-writer, philosophising on the vanity of riches, says:—

'There was ould Paddy Murphy had money galore,And Damer of Shronell had twenty times more—They are now on their backs under nettles and stones.'

'There was ould Paddy Murphy had money galore,

And Damer of Shronell had twenty times more—

They are now on their backs under nettles and stones.'

Damer's house in ruins is still to be seen at Shronell, four miles west of Tipperary town. The story goes that he got his money by selling his soul to the devil for as much gold as would fill his boot—a top boot, i.e. one that reaches above the knee. On the appointed day the devil came with his pockets well filled with guineas and sovereigns, as much as he thought was sufficient to fill any boot. But meantime Damer had removed the heel and fixed the boot in the floor, with a hole in the boards underneath, opening into the room below. The devil flung in handful after handful till his pockets were empty, but still the boot was not filled. He then sent out a signal, such as they understand in hell—for they had wireless telegraphy there long before Mr. Marconi's Irish mother was born—on which a crowd of little imps arrived all laden with gold coins, which were emptied into the boot, and still no sign of its being filled. He had to send them many times for more, till at last he succeeded in fillingthe room beneathas well as the boot; on which the transaction was concluded. The legend does not tell what became of Damer in the end; but such agreements usually wind up (in Ireland) by the sinner tricking Satan out of his bargain.

When a person does an evil deed under cover of some untruthful but plausible justification, or uttersa wicked saying under a disguise: that's 'blindfolding the devil in the dark.' The devil is as cute in the dark as in the light: and blindfolding him is useless and foolish: he is only laughing at you.

'You're a very coarse Christian,' as the devil said to the hedgehog. (Tyrone.)

The name and fame of the great sixteenth-century magician, Dr. Faust or Faustus, found way somehow to our peasantry; for it was quite common to hear a crooked knavish man spoken of in this way:—'That fellow is a match for the devil andDr. Fosther.' (Munster.)

The magpie has seven drops of the devil's blood in its body: the water-wagtail has three drops. (Munster.)

When a person is unusually cunning, cute, and tricky, we say 'The devil is a poor scholar to you.' ('Poor scholar' here means a bad shallow scholar.)

'Now since James is after getting all the money,the devil can't howld him': i.e. he has grown proud and overbearing.

'Firm and ugly, as the devil said when he sewed his breeches with gads.' Here is how it happened. The devil was one day pursuing the soul of a sinner across country, and in leaping over a rough thorn hedge, he tore his breeches badly, so that his tail stuck out; on which he gave up the chase. As it was not decent to appear in public in that condition, he sat down and stitched up the rent with next to hand materials—viz. slender tough osier withes orgadsas we call them in Ireland. When the job was finished he spread out the garment before him on hisknees, and looking admiringly on his handiwork, uttered the above saying—'Firm and ugly!'

The idea of the 'old boy' pursuing a soul appears also in the words of an old Anglo-Irish song about persons who commit great crimes and die unrepentant:—

'For committing those crimes unrepentedThe devil shall after them run,And slash him for that at a furnaceWhere coal sells for nothing a ton.'

'For committing those crimes unrepented

The devil shall after them run,

And slash him for that at a furnace

Where coal sells for nothing a ton.'

A very wet day—teeming rain—raining cats and dogs—a fine day for young ducks:—'The devil wouldn't send out his dog on such a day as this.'

'Did you ever see the devilWith the wooden spade and shovelDigging praties for his supperAnd his tail cocked up?'

'Did you ever see the devil

With the wooden spade and shovel

Digging praties for his supper

And his tail cocked up?'

A person struggling with poverty—constantly in money difficulties—is said to be 'pulling the devil by the tail.'

'Great noise and little wool,' as the devil said when he was shearing a pig.

'What's got over the devil's back goes off under the devil's belly.' This is another form ofill got ill gone.

Don't enter on a lawsuit with a person who has in his hands the power of deciding the case. This would be 'going to law against the devil with the courthouse in hell.'

Jack hates that man and all belonging to him 'as the devil hates holy water.'

Yerraorarrahis an exclamation very much in use in the South: a phonetic representation of the Irishairĕ, meaningtake care,look out,look you:—'YerraBill why are you in such a hurry?' The old people didn't like our continual use of the word; and in order to deter us we were told thatYerraorArrahwas the name of the devil's mother! This would point to something like domestic conditions in the lower regions, and it is in a way corroborated by the words of an old song about a woman—a desperate old reprobate of a virago—who kicked up all sorts of ructions the moment she got inside the gate:—

'When she saw theyoung devilstied up in their chainsShe up with her crutch and knocked one of their brains.'

'When she saw theyoung devilstied up in their chains

She up with her crutch and knocked one of their brains.'

'Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.' The people of Munster do not always put it that way; they have a version of their own:—'Time enough to bid the devil good-morrow when you meet him.' But an intelligent correspondent from Carlow puts a somewhat different interpretation on the last saying, namely, 'Don't go out of your way to seek trouble.'

'When needs must the devil drives': a man in a great fix is often driven to illegal or criminal acts to extricate himself.

When a man is threatened with a thrashing, another will say to him:—'You'll get Paddy Ryan's supper—hard knocks and the devil to eat': common in Munster.

'When you sup with the devil have a long spoon': that is to say, if you have any dealings with rogues or criminals, adopt very careful precautions, and don't come into closer contact with them than is absolutely necessary. (Lover: but used generally.)

'Speak the truth and shame the devil' is a very common saying.

'The devil's children have the devil's luck'; or 'the devil is good to his own': meaning bad men often prosper. But it is now generally said in joke to a person who has come in for an unexpected piece of good luck.

A holy knave—something like our modern Pecksniff—dies and is sent in the downward direction: and—according to the words of the old folk-song—this is his reception:—

'When hell's gate was opened the devil jumped with joy,Saying "I have a warm corner for you my holy boy."'

'When hell's gate was opened the devil jumped with joy,

Saying "I have a warm corner for you my holy boy."'

A man is deeply injured by another and threatens reprisal:—'I'll make you smell hell for that'; a bitter threat which may be paraphrased: I'll persecute you to death's door; and for you to be near death is to be near hell—I'll put you so near that you'll smell the fumes of the brimstone.

A usual imprecation when a person who has made himself very unpopular is going away: 'the devil go with him.' One day a fellow was eating his dinner of dry potatoes, and had only one egg half raw forkitchen. He had no spoon, and took the egg in little sips intending to spread it over the dinner. But one time he tilted the shell too much, and down went the whole contents. After recovering from the gulp, he looked ruefully at the empty shell and blurted out—the devil go with you down!

Many people think—and say it too—that it is an article of belief with Catholics that all Protestants when they die go straight to hell—which is a libel. Yet it is often kept up in joke, as in this and otherstories:—The train was skelping away like mad along the main line to hell—for they have railwaystherenow—till at last it pulled up at the junction. Whereupon the porters ran round shouting out, 'Catholics change here for purgatory: Protestants keep your places!'

This reminds us of Father O'Leary, a Cork priest of the end of the eighteenth century, celebrated as a controversialist and a wit. He was one day engaged in gentle controversy—orargufying religionas we call it in Ireland—with a Protestant friend, who plainly had the worst of the encounter. 'Well now Father O'Leary I want to ask what have you to say about purgatory?' 'Oh nothing,' replied the priest, 'except that you might go farther and fare worse.'

The same Father O'Leary once met in the streets a friend, a witty Protestant clergyman with whom he had many an encounter of wit and repartee. 'Ah Father O'Leary, have you heard the bad news?' 'No,' says Father O'Leary. 'Well, the bottom has fallen out of purgatory, and all the poor Papists have gone down into hell.' 'Oh the Lord save us,' answered Father O'Leary, 'what a crushing the poor Protestants must have got!'

Father O'Leary and Curran—the great orator and wit—sat side by side once at a dinner party, where Curran was charmed with his reverend friend. 'Ah Father O'Leary,' he exclaimed at last, 'I wish you had the key of heaven.' 'Well Curran it might be better for you that I had the key of the other place.'

A parish priest only recently dead, a well-known wit, sat beside a venerable Protestant clergyman atdinner; and they got on very agreeably. This clergyman rather ostentatiously proclaimed his liberality by saying:—'Well Father —— I have been forsixty years in this worldand I could never understand that there is any great and essential difference between the Catholic religion and the Protestant.' 'I can tell you,' replied Father ——, 'that when you die you'll not besixty minutes in the other worldbefore you will understand it perfectly.'

The preceding are all in joke: but I once heard the idea enunciated in downright earnest. In my early life, we, the village people, were a mixed community, about half and half Catholics and Protestants, the latter nearly all Palatines, who were Methodists to a man. We got on very well together, and I have very kindly memories of my old playfellows, Palatines as well as Catholics.

One young Palatine, Peter Stuffle, differed in one important respect from the others, as he never attended Church Mass or Meeting. He emigrated to America; and being a level headed fellow and keeping from drink, he got on. At last he came across Nelly Sullivan, a bright eyed colleen all the way from Kerry, a devoted Catholic, and fell head and ears in love with her. She liked him too, but would have nothing to say to him unless he became a Catholic: in the words of the old song, 'Unless that you turn aRomanyou ne'er shall get me for your bride.' Peter's theology was not proof against Nelly's bright face: he became a Catholic, and a faithful one too: for once he was inside the gate his wife took care to instruct him, and kept him well up to his religious duties.

They prospered; so that at the end of some years he was able to visit his native place. On his arrival nothing could exceed the consternation and rage of his former friends to find that instead of denouncing the Pope, he was now a flaming papist: and they all disowned and boycotted him. So he visited round his Catholic neighbours who were very glad to receive him. I was present at one of the conversations: when Peter, recounting his successful career, wound up with:—'So you see, James, that I am now well off, thanks be to God and to Nelly. I have a large farm, with ever so many horses, and a finebaanof cows, and you could hardly count the sheep and pigs. I'd be as happy as the days are long now, James, only for one thing that's often troubling me; and that is, to think that my poor old father and mother are in hell.'

SWEARING.

The general run of our people do not swear much; and those that do commonly limit themselves to the name of the devil either straight out or in some of its various disguised forms, or to some harmless imitation of a curse. You do indeed come across persons who go higher, but they are rare. Yet while keeping themselves generally within safe bounds, it must be confessed that many of the people have a sort of sneaking admiration—lurking secretly and seldom expressed in words—for a good well-balanced curse, so long as it does not shock by its profanity. I once knew a doctor—not inDublin—who, it might be said, was a genius in this line. He could, on the spur of the moment, roll out a magnificent curse that might vie with a passage of the Iliad in the mouth of Homer. 'Oh sir'—as I heard a fellow say—''tis grand to listen to him when he's in a rage.' He was known as a skilled physician, and a good fellow in every way, and his splendid swearing crowned his popularity. He had discretion however, and knew when to swear and when not; but ultimately he swore his way into an extensive and lucrative practice, which lasted during his whole life—a long and honourable one.

Parallel to this is Maxwell's account of the cursing of Major Denis O'Farrell—'the Mad Major,' who appears to have been a dangerous rival to my acquaintance, the doctor. He was once directing the evolutions at a review in presence of Sir Charles, the General, when one important movement was spoiled by the blundering of an incompetent little adjutant. In a towering passion the Mad Major addressed the General:—'Stop, Sir Charles, do stop; just allow me two minutes to curse that rascally adjutant.' To so reasonable a request (Maxwell goes on to say), Sir Charles readily assented. He heard the whole malediction out, and speaking of it afterwards, he said that 'he never heard a man cursed to his perfect satisfaction until he heard (that adjutant) anathematised in the Phoenix Park.'

The Mad Major was a great favourite; and when he died, there was not a dry eye in the regiment on the day of the funeral. Two months afterwards when an Irish soldier was questioned on the merits of his successor:—'The man is well enough,' said Pat,with a heavy sigh, 'but where will we find the equal of the Major? By japers, it was a comfort to be cursed by him!' ('Wild Sports of the West.')

In my part of the country there is—or was—a legend—a very circumstantial one too—which however I am not able to verify personally, as the thing occurred a little before my time—that Father Buckley, of Glenroe, cured Charley Coscoran, the greatest swearer in the barony—cured him in a most original way. He simply directed him to cut out a button from some part of his dress, no matter where—to whip it out on the instant—every time he uttered a serious curse, i.e, one involving the Sacred Name. Charley made the promise with a light heart, thinking that by only using a little caution he could easily avoid snipping off his buttons. But inveterate habit is strong. Only very shortly after he had left the priest he saw a cow in one of his cornfields playing havoc: out came a round curse, and off came a button on the spot. For Charley was a manly fellow, with a real sense of religion at bottom: and he had no notion of shirking his penance. Another curse after some time and another button. Others again followed:—coat, waistcoat, trousers, shirt-collar, were brought under contribution till his clothes began to fall off him. For a needle and thread were not always at hand, and at any rate Charley was no great shakes at the needle. At last things came to that pass with poor Charley, that life was hardly worth living; till he had to put his mind seriously to work, and by careful watching he gradually cured himself. But many score buttons passed through his hands during the process.

Most persons have a sort of craving or instinct to utter a curse of some kind—as a sort of comforting interjection—where there is sufficient provocation; and in order to satisfy this without incurring the guilt, people have invented ejaculations in the form of curses, but still harmless. Most of them have some resemblance in sound to the forbidden word—they are near enough to satisfy the craving, but still far enough off to avoid the guilt: the process may in fact be designateddodging a curse. Hence we have such blank cartridges asbegob,begor, by mysowkins, byJove, by thelaws[Lord], byherrings[heavens], bythis and by that,dangit, &c.; all of them ghosts of curses, which are very general among our people. The following additional examples will sufficiently illustrate this part of our subject.

The expressionthe dear knows(or correctlythe deer knows), which is very common, is a translation from Irish of one of those substitutions. The original expression isthauss ag Dhee[given here phonetically], meaningGod knows; but as this is too solemn and profane for most people, they changed it toThauss ag fee, i.e.the deer knows; and this may be uttered by anyone.Dia[Dhee] God:fiadh[fee], a deer.

Says Barney Broderick, who is going through his penance after confession at the station, and is interrupted by a woman asking him a question:—'Salvation seize your soul—God forgive me for cursing—be off out of that and don't set me astray!' ('Knocknagow.') Here the substitution has turned a wicked imprecation into a benison: for the first word in the original is notsalvationbutdamnation.

'By the hole in my coat,' which is often heard, is regarded as a harmless oath: for if there is no hole you are swearing by nothing: and if there is a hole—still the hole is nothing.

'Bad manners to you,' a mild imprecation, to avoid 'bad luck to you,' which would be considered wicked: reflecting the people's horror of rude or offensive manners.

'By all the goats in Kerry,' which I have often heard, is always said in joke, which takes the venom out of it. In Leinster they say, 'by all the goats in Gorey'—which is a big oath. Whether it is a big oath now or not, I do not know; but it was so formerly, for the nameGorey(Wexford), like the ScotchGowrie, means 'swarming with goats.'

'Man,' says the pretty mermaid to Dick Fitzgerald, when he had captured her from the sea, 'man will you eat me?' 'By all the red petticoats and check aprons between Dingle and Tralee,' cried Dick, jumping up in amazement, 'I'd as soon eat myself, my jewel! Is it I to eat you, my pet!' (Crofton Croker.)

'Where did he get the whiskey?' 'Sorrow a know I know,' said Leary. 'Sorrow fly away with him.' (Crofton Croker.) In these and such like—which you often hear—sorrowis a substitute fordevil.

Perhaps the most general exclamations of this kind among Irish people arebegor,begob,bedad,begad(often contracted toegad),faithandtroth.Faith, contracted fromin faithori' faith, is looked upon by many people as not quite harmless: it is a little too serious to be used indiscriminately—'Faith I feel this day very cold': 'Is that tea good?''Faith it is no such thing: it is very weak.' 'Did Mick sell his cows to-day at the fair?' 'Faith I don't know.' People who shrink from the plain word often soften it tofaixorhaith(orhethin Ulster). An intelligent contributor makes the remark that the use of this wordfaith(as above) is a sure mark of an Irishman all over the world.

Even some of the best men will occasionally, in an unguarded moment or in a hasty flash of anger, give way to the swearing instinct. Father John Burke of Kilfinane—I remember him well—a tall stern-looking man with heavy brows, but really gentle and tender-hearted—held a station at the house of our neighbour Tom Coffey, a truly upright and pious man. All had gone to confession and Holy Communion, and the station was over. Tom went out to bring the priest's horse from the paddock, but in leading him through a gap in the hedge the horse stood stock still and refused obstinately to go an inch farther. Tom pulled and tugged to no purpose, till at last his patience went to pieces, and he flung this, in no gentle voice, at the animal's head:—'Blast yoursowlwill you come on!' Just then unluckily Father Burke walked up behind: he had witnessed and heard all, and you may well say that Tom's heart dropped down into his shoes; for he felt thoroughly ashamed. The crime was not great; but it looked bad and unbecoming under the circumstances; and what could the priest do but perform his duty: so the black brows contracted, and on the spot he gave poor Tomdown-the-banksand no mistake. I was at that station, though I did not witness the horse scene.

If a person pledges himself to anything, clinching the promise with an adjuration however mild or harmless, he will not by any means break the promise, considering it in a manner as a vow. The old couple are at tea and have just one egg, which causes a mild dispute. At last the father says decisively—'The divel a bit of it I'll eat, so there's an end of it': when the mother instantly and with great solemnity—'FaithI won't eat it—there now!' The result was that neither would touch it; and they gave it to their little boy who demolished it without the least scruple.

I was one time a witness of a serio-comic sceneon the head ofone of these blank oaths when I was a small boy attending a very small school. The master was a truly good and religious man, but very severe (awickedmaster, as we used to say), and almost insane in his aversion to swearing in any shape or form. To saybegoborbegororby Jovewas unpardonably wicked; it was nothing better than blindfolding the devil in the dark.

One day Jack Aimy, then about twelve years of age—the saintas we used to call him—for he was always in mischief and always in trouble—said exultingly to the boy sitting next him:—'Ohby the hokey, Tom, I have my sum finished all right at last.' In evil hour for him the master happened to be standing just behind his back; and then came the deluge. In an instant the school work was stopped, and poor Jack was called up to stand before the judgment seat. There he got a long lecture—with the usual quotations—as severe and solemn as if he were a man and had perjured himself half adozen times. As for the rest of us, we sat in the deadly silence shivering in our skins; for we all, to a man, had a guilty consciousness that we were quite as bad as Jack, if the truth were known. Then poor Jack was sent to his seat so wretched and crestfallen after his lecture that a crow wouldn't pick his bones.

'By the hokey' is to this day common all over Ireland.

When we, Irish, go abroad, we of course bring with us our peculiarities and mannerisms—with now and then a little meteoric flash of eccentricity—which on the whole prove rather attractive to foreigners, including Englishmen. One Sunday during the South African war, Mass was celebrated as usual in the temporary chapel, which, after the rough and ready way of the camp, served for both Catholics and Protestants: Mass first; Protestant Service after. On this occasion an Irish officer, a splendid specimen of a man, tall, straight, and athletic—a man born to command, and well known as a strict and devoted Catholic—was serving Mass—aiding and giving the responses to the priest. The congregation was of course of mixed nationalities—English, Irish, and Scotch, and the chapel was filled. Just outside the chapel door a nigger had charge of the big bell to call the congregations. On this day, in blissful ignorance and indifference, he began to ring for the Protestant congregation too soon—while Mass was still going on—so as greatly to disturb the people at their devotions. The officer was observed to show signs of impatience, growing more and more restless as the ringing wenton persistently, till at last one concentrated series of bangs burst up his patience utterly. Starting up from his knees during a short interval when his presence was not required—it happened to be after the most solemn part of the Mass—he strode down the middle passage in a mighty rage—to the astonishment of everybody—till he got to the door, and letting fly—in the midst of the perfect silence,—a tremendous volley ofdamns,blasts,scoundrels,blackguards, &c., &c., at the head of the terrified nigger, he shut him up, himself and his bell, while a cat would be licking her ear. He then walked back and resumed his duties, calm and collected, and evidently quite unconscious that there was anything unusual in the proceeding.

The whole thing was so sudden and odd that the congregation were convulsed with suppressed silent laughter; and I am afraid that some people observed even the priest's sides shaking in spite of all he could do.

This story was obtained from a person who was present at that very Mass; and it is given here almost in his own words.

GRAMMAR AND PRONUNCIATION.

ShallandWill. It has been pretty clearly shown that the somewhat anomalous and complicated niceties in the English use ofshallandwillhave been developed within the last 300 years or so. It is of course well known that our Irish popular manner of using thesetwo particles is not in accordance with the present correct English standard; yet most of our shall-and-will Hibernianisms represent the classical usage of two or three centuries ago: so that this is one of those Irish 'vulgarisms' that are really survivals in Ireland of the correct old English usages, which in England have been superseded by other and often incorrect forms. On this point I received, some years ago, a contribution from an English gentleman who resided long in Ireland, Mr. Marlow Woollett, a man of wide reading, great culture, and sound judgment. He gives several old examples in illustration, of which one is so much to the point—in the use ofwill—that you might imagine the words were spoken by an Irish peasant of the present day. Hamlet says:

'I will win for him an (if) I can; if not Iwillgain nothing but my shame and the odd hits.' ('Hamlet,' Act v., scene ii.)

This (the secondwill) exactly corresponds with what many of us in Ireland would say now:—'I will win the race if I can; if not Iwillget some discredit': 'If I go without my umbrella I am afraid I will get wet.' So also in regard toshall; modern English custom has departed from correct ancient usage and etymology, which in many cases we in Ireland have retained. The old and correct sense ofshallindicated obligation or duty (as in Chaucer:—'The faith I shal to God') being derived from A.S.sceal'I owe' or 'ought': this has been discarded in England, while we still retain it in our usage in Ireland. You say to an attentive Irish waiter, 'Please have breakfast for me at 8 o'clock to-morrow morning'; and he answers, 'I shall sir.' When I was a boy I waspresent in the chapel of Ardpatrick one Sunday, when Father Dan O'Kennedy, after Mass, called on the two schoolmasters—candidates for a school vacancy—to come forward to him from where they stood at the lower end of the chapel; when one of them, Mat Rea, a good scholar but a terrible pedant, called out magniloquently, 'Yes, doctor, weSHALLgo to your reverence,' unconsciously following in the footsteps of Shakespeare.

The language both of the waiter and of Mat Rea is exactly according to the old English usage.

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