Chapter 14

MARTIN (_bitterly_).--That is so. We were married to-day; and it is at our wedding dinner you are sitting.

BLIND MAN. Your wedding dinner! Do not be mocking me! There is no company here.

MARY. Oh, he is not mocking you; he would not do a thing like that. There is no company here; for we have nothing in the house to give them.

BLIND MAN. But you gave it to me! Is it the truth you are speaking? Am I the only person that was asked to your wedding?

MARY. You are. But that is to the honour of God; and we would never have told you that, but Martin let slip the word from his mouth.

BLIND MAN. Oh, and I eat your little feast on you, and without knowing it.

MARY. It is not without a welcome you eat it.

MARTIN. I am well pleased you came in; you were more in want of it than ourselves. If we have a bare house now, we might have a full house yet; and a good dinner on the table to share with those in need of it. I'd be better off now; but all the little money I had I laid it out on the house, and the little patch of land. I thought I was wise at the time; but now we have the house, and we haven't what will keep us alive in it. I have the potatoes set in the garden; but I haven't so much as a potato to eat. We are left bare, and I am guilty of it.

MARY. If there is any fault, it is on me it is; coming maybe to be a drag on Martin, where I have no fortune at all. The little money I gained in service, I lost it all on my poor father, when he took sick. And I went back into service; and the mistress I had was a cross woman; and when Martin saw the way she was treating me, he wouldn't let me stop with her any more, but he made me his wife. And now I will have great courage, when I have to go out to service again.

BLIND MAN. Will you have to be parted again?

MARTIN. We will, indeed; I must go as a _spailpin fanac_, to reap and to dig the harvest in some other place. But Mary and myself have it settled we'll meet again at this house on a certain day, with the blessing of God. I'll have the key in my pocket; and we'll come in, with a better chance of stopping in it. You'll have your own cows yet, Mary; and your calves and your firkins of butter, with the help of God.

MARY. I think I hear carts on the road. (_She gets up, and goes to the door._)

MARTIN. It's the people coming back from the fair. Shut the door, Mary; I wouldn't like them to see how bare the house is; and I'll put a smear of ashes on the window, the way they won't see we're here at all.

BLIND MAN (_raising his head suddenly_). Do not do that; but open the door wide, and let the blessing of God come in on you. (MARY _opens the door again. He takes up his fiddle, and begins to play on it. A little boy puts in his head at the door; and then another head is seen, and another with that again._)

BLIND MAN. Who is that at the door?

MARY. Little boys that came to listen to you.

BLIND MAN. Come in, boys. (_Three or four come inside._)

BLIND MAN. Boys, I am listening to the carts coming home from the fair. Let you go out, and stop the people; tell them they must come in: there is a wedding-dance here this evening.

BOY. The people are going home. They wouldn't stop for us.

BLIND MAN. Tell them to come in; and there will be as fine a dance as ever they saw. But they must all give a present to the man and woman that are newly married.

ANOTHER BOY. Why would they come in? They can have a dance of their own at any time. There is a piper in the big town.

BLIND MAN. Say to them that _I myself_ tell them to come in; and to bring every one a present to the newly-married woman.

BOY. And who are you yourself?

BLIND MAN. Tell them it is Raftery the poet is here, and that is calling to them.

(_The boys run out, tumbling over one another._)

MARTIN. Are you Raftery, the great poet I heard talk of since I was born! (_taking his hand_). Seven hundred thousand welcomes before you; and it is a great honour to us you to be here.

MARY. Raftery the poet! Now there is luck on us! The first man that brought us his blessing, and that eat food in my own house, he to be Raftery the poet! And I hearing the other day you were sick and near your death. And I see no sign of sickness on you now.

BLIND MAN. I am well, I am well now, the Lord be praised for it.

MARTIN. I heard talk of you as often as there are fingers on my hands, and toes on my feet. But indeed I never thought to have the luck of seeing you.

MARY. And it is you that made 'County Mayo,' and the 'Repentance,' and 'The Weaver,' and the 'Shining Flower.' It is often I thought there should be no woman in the world so proud as Mary Hynes, with the way you praised her.

BLIND MAN. O my poor Mary Hynes, without luck! (_They hear the wheels of a cart outside the house, and an old farmer comes in, a frieze coat on him._)

OLD FARMER. God save you, Martin; and is this your wife? God be with you, woman of the house. And, O Raftery, seven hundred thousand welcomes before you to this country. I would sooner see you than King George. When they told me you were here, I said to myself I would not go past without seeing you, if I didn't get home till morning.

BLIND MAN. But didn't you get my message?

OLD FARMER. What message is that?

BLIND MAN. Didn't they tell you to bring a present to the new-married woman and her husband. What have you got for them?

OLD FARMER. Wait till I see; I have something in the cart. (_He goes out._)

MARTIN. O Raftery, you see now what a great name you have here. (_Old farmer comes in again_ _with a bag of meal on his shoulders. He throws it on the floor._)

OLD FARMER. Four bags of meal I was bringing from the mill; and there is one of them for the woman of the house.

MARY. A thousand thanks to God and you. (MARTIN _carries the bag to other side of table._)

BLIND MAN. Now don't forget the fiddler. (_He takes a plate and holds it out._)

OLD FARMER. I'll not break my word, Raftery, the first time you came to this country. There is two shillings for you in the plate. (_He throws the money into it._)

BLIND MAN.

This is a man has love to God, Opening his hand to give out food; Better a small house filled with wheat, Than a big house that's bare of meat.

OLD FARMER. _Maisead_, long life to you, Raftery.

BLIND MAN. Are you there, boy?

BOY. I am.

BLIND MAN. I hear more wheels coming. Go out, and tell the people Raftery will let no person come in here without a present for the woman of the house.

BOY. I am going. (_He goes out._)

OLD FARMER. They say there was not the like of you for a poet in Connacht these hundred years back.

(_A middle-aged woman comes in, a pound of tea and a parcel of sugar in her hand._)

WOMAN. God save all here! I heard Raftery the poet was in it; and I brought this little present to the woman of the house. (_Puts them into_ MARY'S _hands._) I would sooner see Raftery than be out there in the cart.

BLIND MAN. Don't forget the fiddler, O right woman.

WOMAN. And are you Raftery?

BLIND MAN.

I am Raftery the poet, Full of gentleness and love; With eyes without light, With quietness, without misery.

WOMAN. Good the man.

BLIND MAN.

Quick, quick, quick, for no man Need speak twice to a handy woman; I'll praise you when I hear the clatter Of your shilling on my platter.

(_A young man comes in with a side of bacon in his arms, and stands waiting._)

WOMAN. Indeed, I would not begrudge it to you if it was a piece of gold I had (_puts shilling in plate_). The 'Repentance' you made is at the end of my fingers. Here's another customer for you now. (_The young man comes forward, and gives the bacon to_ MARTIN, _who puts it with the meal._)

MARY. I thank you kindly. Oh, it's like the miracle worked for Saint Colman, sending him his dinner in the bare hills!

BLIND MAN.

May that young man with yellow hair Find yellow money everywhere!

FAIR YOUNG MAN. I heard the world and his wife were stopping at the door to give a welcome to Raftery, and I thought I would not be behindhand. And here is something for the fiddler (_puts money in the plate_). I would sooner see that fiddler than any other fiddler in the world.

BLIND MAN.

May that young man with yellow hair Buy cheap, sell dear, in every fair.

FAIR YOUNG MAN (_to_ MARTIN). How does he know I have yellow hair and he blind? How does he know that?

MARTIN. Hush, my head is going round with the wonder is on me.

MARY. No wonder at all in that. Maybe it is dreaming we all are.

(_A grey-haired man and two girls come in._)

GREY-HAIRED MAN (_laying down a sack_). The blessing of God here! I heard Raftery was here in the wedding-house, and that he would let no one in without a present. There was nothing in the cart with us but a sack of potatoes, and there it is for you, ma'am.

MARY. Oh, it's too good you all are to me. Whether it's asleep or awake I am, I thank you kindly.

BLIND MAN. Don't forget the fiddler.

GREY-HAIRED MAN. Are you Raftery?

BLIND MAN.

Who will give Raftery a shilling? Here is his platter: who is willing? Who will give honour to the poet? Here is his platter: show it, show it.

GREY-HAIRED FARMER. You're welcome; you're welcome! That is Raftery, anyhow! (_Puts money in the plate._)

BLIND MAN.

Come hither, girls, give what you can To the poor old travelling man.

GREY-HAIRED MAN. Aurah Susan, aurah Oona, are you looking at who is before you, the greatest poet in Ireland? That is Raftery himself. It is often you heard talk of the girl that got a husband with the praises he gave her. If he gives you the same, maybe you'll get husbands with it.

FIRST GIRL. I often heard talk of Raftery.

THE OTHER GIRL. There was always a great name on Raftery. (_They put some money in the plate shyly._)

BLIND MAN.

Before you go, give what you can To this young girl and this young man.

FIRST GIRL (_to_ MARY). Here's a couple of dozen of eggs, and welcome.

THE OTHER GIRL. O woman of the house! I have nothing with me here; but I have a good clucking hen at home, and I'll bring her to you to-morrow; our house is close by.

MARY. Indeed, that's good news to me; such nice neighbours to be at hand. (_Several men and women come into the house together, every one of them carrying something._)

SEVERAL (_together_). Welcome, Raftery!

BLIND MAN.

If ye have hearts are worth a mouse, Welcome the bride into her house.

(_They laugh and greet_ MARY, _and put down gifts--a roll of butter, rolls of woollen thread, and many other things._)

OLD FARMER. Ha, ha! That's right. They are coming in now. Now, Raftery; isn't it generous and open-handed and liberal this country is? Isn't it better than the County Mayo?

BLIND MAN.

I'd say all Galway was rich land, If I'd your shillings in my hand.

(_Holds out his plate to them._)

OLD FARMER (_laughing_). Now, neighbours, down with it! My conscience! Raftery knows how to get hold of the money.

A MAN OF THEM. _Maisead_, he doesn't own much riches; and there is pride on us all to see him in this country. (_Puts money in the plate, and all the others do the same. A lean old man comes in._)

MARTIN (_to_ MARY). That is John the Miser, or Seagan na Stucaire, as they call him. That is the man that is hardest in this country. He never gave a penny to any person since he was born.

MISER. God save all here! Oh, is that Raftery? Ho, ho! God save you, Raftery, and a hundred thousand welcomes before you to this country. There is pride on us all to see you. There is gladness on the whole country, you to be here in our midst. If you will believe me, neighbours, I saw with my own eyes the bush Raftery put his curse on; and as sure as I'm living, it was withered away. There is nothing of it but a couple of old twigs now.

BLIND MAN.

I've heard a voice like his before, And liked some little voice the more; I'd sooner have, if I'd my choice, A big heart and a small voice.

MISER. Ho! ho! Raftery, making poems as usual. Well, there is great joy on us, indeed, to see you in our midst.

BLIND MAN. What is the present you have brought to the new-married woman?

MISER. What is the present I brought? O _maisead_! the times are too bad on a poor man. I brought a few fleeces of wool I had to the market to-day, and I couldn't sell it; I had to bring it home again. And calves I had there, I couldn't get any buyer for at all. There is misfortune on these times.

BLIND MAN. Every person that came in brought his own present with him. There is the new-married woman, and let you put down a good present.

MISER. O _maisead_, much good may it do her! (_He takes out of his pocket a small parcel of snuff; takes a_ _piece of paper from the floor, and pours into it, slowly and carefully, a little of the snuff, and puts it on the table._)

BLIND MAN.

Look at the gifts of every kind Were given with a willing mind; After all this, it's not enough From the man of cows--a pinch of snuff!

OLD FARMER. _Maisead_, long life to you, Raftery; that your tongue may never lose its edge. That is a man of cows certainly; I myself am a man of sheep.

BLIND MAN. A bag of meal from the man of sheep.

FAIR YOUNG MAN. And I am a man of pigs.

BLIND MAN. A side of meat from the man of pigs.

MARTIN. Don't forget the woman of hens.

BLIND MAN.

A pound of tea from the woman of hens. After all this, it's not enough From the man of cows--a pinch of snuff!

ALL.

After all this, it's not enough From the man of cows--a pinch of snuff!

OLD FARMER. The devil the like of such fun have we had this year!

MISER. Oh, indeed, I was only keeping a little grain for myself; but it's likely they may want it all. (_He takes the paper out, and lays it on the table._)

BLIND MAN. A bag of meal from the man of sheep.

ALL.

After all this, it's not enough From the man of cows--a half-ounce of snuff!

(_One of the girls hands the snuff round; they laugh and sneeze, taking pinches of it._)

OLD FARMER. My soul to the devil, Seagan, do the thing decently. Give out one of those fleeces you have in the cart with you.

MISER. I never saw the like of you for fools since I was born. Is it mad you are?

ALL. From the man of cows, a half-ounce of snuff!

MISER. Oh, _maisead_, if there must be a present put down, take the fleece, and my share of misfortune on you! (_Three or four of the boys run out._)

OLD FARMER. Aurah, Seagan, what is your opinion of Raftery now? He has you destroyed worse than the bush! (_The boys come back, a fleece with them._)

BOY. Here is the fleece, and it's very heavy it is. (_They put it down, and there falls a little bag out of it that bursts and scatters the money here and there on the floor._)

MISER. Ub-ub-bu! That is my share of money scattered on me that I got for my calves. (_He stoops down to gather it together. All the people burst out laughing again._)

OLD FARMER. _Maisead_, Seagan, where did you get the money? You told us you didn't sell your share of calves.

BLIND MAN.

He that got good gold For calves he never sold Must put good money down With a laugh, without a frown; Or I'll destroy that man With a bone-breaking rann. I'll rhyme him by the book To a blue-watery look.

MISER. Oh, Raftery, don't do that. I tasted enough of your ranns just now, and I don't want another taste of them. There's threepence for you. (_He puts three pennies in the plate._)

BLIND MAN.

I'll put a new name upon This strong farmer, of Thrippeny John. He'll be called, without a doubt, Thrippeny John from this time out. Put your sovereign on my plate, Or that and worse will be your fate.

MISER. O, in the name of God, Raftery, stop your mouth and let me go! Here is the sovereign for you; and indeed it's not with my blessing I give it.

(BLIND MAN _plays on the fiddle. They all stand up and dance but_ SEAGAN NA STUCIARE, _who shakes his fist in_ BLIND MAN'S _face, and goes out._

_When they have danced for a minute or two_, BLIND MAN _stops fiddling and stands up._)

BLIND MAN. I was near forgetting: I am the only person here gave nothing to the woman of the house. (_Hands the plate of money to_ MARY.) Take that and my seven hundred blessings along with it, and that you may be as well as I wish you to the end of life and time. Count the money now, and see what the neighbours did for you.

MARY. That is too much indeed.

MARTIN. You have too much done for us already.

BLIND MAN. Count it, count it; while I go over and try can I hear what sort of blessings Seagan na Stucaire is leaving after him.

(_Neighbours all crowd round counting the money._ BLIND MAN _goes to the door, looks back with a sigh, and goes quietly out._)

OLD FARMER. Well, you have enough to set you up altogether, Martin. You'll be buying us all up within the next six months.

MARTIN. Indeed I don't think I'll be going digging potatoes for other men this year, but to be working for myself at home.

(_The sound of horse's steps are heard. A young man comes into the house._)

YOUNG MAN. What is going on here at all? All the cars in the country gathered at the door, and Seagan na Stucaire going swearing down the road.

OLD FARMER. Oh, this is the great wedding was made by Raftery.--Where is Raftery? Where is he gone?

MARTIN (_going to the door_). He's not here. I don't see him on the road. (_Turns to young farmer._) Did you meet a blind fiddler going out the door--the poet Raftery?

YOUNG MAN. The poet Raftery? I did not; but I stood by his grave at Killeenan three days ago.

MARY. His grave? Oh, Martin, it was a dead man was in it!

MARTIN. Whoever it was, it was a man sent by God was in it.

THE LOST SAINT

AN OLD MAN.

A TEACHER.

CONALL AND OTHER CHILDREN.

SCENE.--_A large room as it was in the old time. A long table in it. A troop of children, a share of them eating their dinner, another share of them sitting after eating. There is a teacher stooping over a book in the other part of the room._

A CHILD (_standing up_). Come out, Felim, till we see the new hound.

ANOTHER CHILD. We can't. The master told us not to go out till we would learn this poem, the poem he was teaching us to-day.

ANOTHER CHILD. He won't let anyone at all go out till he can say it.

ANOTHER CHILD. _Maisead_, disgust for ever on the same old poem; but there is no fear for myself--I'll get out, never fear; I'll remember it well enough. But I don't think you will get out, Conall. Oh, there is the master ready to begin.

TEACHER (_lifting up his head_). Now, children, have you finished your dinner?

CHILDREN. Not yet. (_A poor-looking, grey old man comes to the door._)

A CHILD. Oh, that is old Cormacin that grinds the meal for us, and minds the oven.

OLD MAN. The blessing of God here! Master, will you give me leave to gather up the scraps, and to bring them out with me?

MASTER. You may do that. (_To the children._) Come here now, till I see if you have that poem right, and I will let you go out when you have it said.

FEARALL. We are coming; but wait a minute till I ask old Cormacin what is he going to do with the leavings he has there.

OLD MAN. I am gathering them to give to the birds, avourneen.

TEACHER. We will do it now; come over here. (_The children stand together in a row._)

TEACHER. Now I will tell you who made the poem you are going to say to me: There was a holy, saintly man in Ireland some years ago. Aongus Ceile Dé was the name he had. There was no man in Ireland had greater humility than he. He did not like the people to be giving honour to him, or to be saying he was a great saint, or that he made fine poems. It was because of his humility he stole away one night, and put a disguise on himself; and he went like a poor man through the country, working for his own living without anyone knowing him. He is gone away out of knowledge now, without anyone at all knowing where he is. Maybe he is feeding pigs or grinding meal now like any other poor person.

A CHILD. Grinding meal like old Cormacin here.

TEACHER. Exactly. But before he went away, it is many fine sweet poems he made in the praise of God and the angels; and it was one of those I was teaching you to-day.

A CHILD. What is the name you said he had?

TEACHER. Aongus Ceile Dé, the servant of God. They gave him that name because he was so holy. Now, Felim, say the first two lines you; and Art will say the two next lines; and Aodh the two lines after that, and so on to the end.

FELIM.

Up in the kingdom of God, there are Archangels for every single day.

ART.

And it is they certainly That steer the entire week.

AODH.

The first day is holy; Sunday belongs to God.

FERGUS.

Gabriel watches constantly Every week over Monday.

CONALL.

Gabriel watches constantly--

TEACHER. That's not it, Conall; Fergus said that.

CONALL. It is to God Sunday belongs----

TEACHER. That's not it; that was said before. It is at Tuesday we are now. Who is it has Tuesday? (_The little boy does not answer._) Who is it has Tuesday? Don't be a fool, now.

CONALL (_putting the joint of his finger in his eye_). I don't know.

TEACHER. Oh, my shame you are! Look now; go in the place Fearall is, and he will go in your place. Now, Fearall.

FEARALL.

It is true that Tuesday is kept By Michael in his full strength.

TEACHER. That's it. Now, Conall, say who has Monday.

CONALL. I can't.

TEACHER. Say the two lines before that and I will be satisfied. Who has Monday?

CONALL (_crying_). I don't know.

TEACHER. Oh, aren't you the little amadan! I will never put anything at all in your head. I will not let you go out till you know that poem. Now, boys, run out with you; and we will leave Conall Amadan here. (_The_ TEACHER _and all the other scholars go out._)

THE OLD MAN. Don't be crying, avourneen; I will teach the poem to you; I know it myself.

CONALL. Aurah, Cormacin, I cannot learn it. I am not clever or quick like the other boys. I can't put anything in my head (_bursts into crying again_). I have no memory for anything.

OLD MAN (_laying his hand on his head_). Take courage, astore. You will be a wise man yet, with the help of God. Come with me now, and help me to divide these scraps. (_The child gets up._) That's it now; dry your eyes and don't be discouraged.

CONALL (_wiping his eyes_). What are you making three shares of the scraps for?

THE OLD MAN. I am going to give the first share to the geese; I am putting all the cabbage on this dish for them; and when I go out, I will put a grain of meal on it, and it will feed them finely. I have scraps of meat here, and old broken bread, and I will give that to the hens; they will lay their eggs better when they will get food like that. These little crumbs are for the little birds that do be singing to me in the morning, and that awaken me with their share of music. I have oaten meal for them. (_Sweeps the floor, and gathers little crumbs of bread._) I have a great wish for the little birds. (_The old man looks up; he sees the little boy lying on a cushion, and he asleep. He stands a little while looking at him. Tears gather in his eyes; then he goes down on his knees._)

OLD MAN. O Lord, O God, take pity on this little soft child. Put wisdom in his head, cleanse his heart, scatter the mist from his mind, and let him learn his lesson like the other boys. O Lord, Thou wert Thyself young one time: take pity on youth. O Lord, Thou Thyself shed tears: dry the tears of this little lad. Listen, O Lord, to the prayer of Thy servant, and do not keep from him this little thing he is asking of Thee. O Lord, bitter are the tears of a child, sweeten them; deep are the thoughts of a child, quiet them; sharp is the grief of a child, take it from him; soft is the heart of a child, do not harden it.

(_While the old man is praying, the_ TEACHER _comes in. He makes a sign to the children outside; they come in and gather about him. The old man notices the children; he starts up, and shame burns on him._)