Part 2

Mr. Mann Harbison has kindly written to me on this subject, and expresses his belief that the souterrains "were constructed by a diminutive race, probably allied to the modern Lapps, who seem to be the survivors of a widely distributed race." In another letter he says: "The universal idea of fairies is very suggestive. The tall Celts, when they arrived, saw the small people disappear in a mysterious way, and, without stopping to investigate, imagined they had become invisible. If they had had the courage or the patience to investigate, they would have found that they had passed into their souterrain."

In his work "Fians, Fairies, and Picts," Mr. David MacRitchie argues that these three names belong to similar if not identical dwarf races in Scotland. The Tuatha de Danann he also regards as of the same race as the fairies, or, to give them their Irish name, the Fir Sidhe, the men of the green mounds.

The remains of the ancient cave-dwellers point to a primitive race of small size inhabiting Europe. Dr. Munro, in his work "Prehistoric Problems," refers to the skeletons discovered at Spy in Belgium by MM. Lohest and De Pudzt. He describes them as examples of a very early and low type of the human race, and states that Professor Fraipont, who examined them anatomically, "came to the conclusion that the Spy men belonged to a race relatively of small stature, analogous to the modern Laplanders, having voluminous heads, massive bodies, short arms, and bent legs. They led a sedentary life, frequented caves, manufactured flint implements after the type known as Moustérien, and were contemporary with the Mammoth."[4]

Let us compare this description with that in the ballad of "The Wee, Wee Man":[5]

"His legs were scarce a shathmont's[6] length, And thick and thimber was his thigh; Between his brows there was a span, And between his shoulders there was three."

I do not, however, mean to suggest that the builders of the raths and souterrains were contemporary with the men of Spy, but rather that a small race of primitive men may have existed until a comparatively late period in this country. Leading a desultory warfare with their neighbours, they would carry off women and children, and injure the cattle with their stone weapons. We should note that in the traditions of the peasantry, and also in the old ballads, those who have been carried off by the fairies can frequently be released from captivity, and they return, not as ghosts, but as living men or women. May we not see in these legends traces of a struggle between a primitive race, whose gods may have been, like themselves, of diminutive stature, and their more civilized neighbours, who accepted the teaching of the early Christian missionaries?

FOOTNOTES:

[3] Communicated to Belfast Naturalists' Field Club, January 18, 1898.

[4] P. 141.

[5] "Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs," published anonymously, but known to have been collected by David Herd (vol. i., p. 95, ed. 1776).

[6] The fist closed with thumb extended, and may be considered a measure of about six inches.

A Day at Maghera, Co. Londonderry[7]

One fine morning last August I found myself in the quaint old town of Maghera. My first visit was to the post-office, where I bought some picture-cards, and inquired my way to Killelagh Church, the Cromlech, and the Sweat-house, as it is called, where formerly people indulged in a vapour-bath to cure rheumatism and other complaints. I was told to follow the main street. This I did, and when I came to the outskirts of the town I tried to get a guide, and spoke to a boy at one of the cottages. He, however, knew very little, but fortunately saw an elderly man coming down the road, who consented to show me the way, and proved an excellent guide. His name is Daniel McKenna, a coach-builder by trade. His father, who was teacher in Maghera National School for thirty-five years, knew Irish well, and I understand gave Dr. Joyce information in regard to some of the place-names in Co. Derry. Taking a road which led in a north-westerly direction, we came to the Cromlech, and a few yards farther on saw the old Church of Killelagh.

My guide pointed out that the doorstep was much worn, doubtless by the feet of those who during many centuries had passed over it; he showed me, too, the strong walls, and said the mortar had been cemented with the blood of bullocks. This probably recalls an ancient custom, when an animal--in still earlier times it might be a human being[8]--was slain to propitiate or drive away the evil spirits and secure the stability of the building. A similar tradition exists in regard to Roughan Castle, the stronghold of Phelim O'Neill, in Co. Tyrone.

Leaving Killelagh Church, we continued our walk, and I asked my guide about the customs and traditions of the country. He told me that on Hallow Eve Night salt is put on the heads of children to protect them from the fairies. These fairies, or wee folk, are about three feet in height, some not so tall; they are of different races or tribes, and have pitched battles at the Pecht's graveyard. This is a place covered with rough mounds and very rough stones, and is looked on as a great playground of the fairies; people passing through it are often led astray by them. The Pechts, or Picts, were described to me as having long black hair, which grew in tufts; they were small people, about four feet six inches in height, thick set, nearly as broad as they were long, strong in arms and shoulders, and with very large feet. When a shower of rain came on, they would stand on their heads and shelter themselves under their feet. Some years ago I was told a similar story in Co. Antrim of the Pechts lying down and using their feet as umbrellas.[9]

I regretted we had not time to visit a large fort we passed on the way to Ballyknock Farmhouse. Here we left the road, and, passing through some fields, came to the old Sweat-house. As you will see from the photograph kindly given to me by Mr. Lytle of Maghera, the entrance is on the side of a bank. It is a much more primitive structure than those at the Struel Wells, near Downpatrick. No mortar has been used in its construction, and I should say it is an old souterrain, or part of a souterrain. The following are rough measurements:

Height of entrance 2 feet. Width of entrance 15 inches. Height of interior 5 feet 5 inches. Width of interior 3 feet. Length of interior 9 feet.

This building, as already mentioned, was used by those suffering from rheumatism, and near the entrance is a well in which the patients bathed to complete the cure.

While we were resting I asked about rush crosses, which are put up in many cottages at Maghera, and, gathering some rushes, Daniel McKenna showed me how they were made. He told me that on St. Bridget's Eve, January 31, children are sent out to pull rushes, which must not be cut with a knife. When these rushes are brought in, the family gather round the fire and make the crosses, which are sprinkled with holy water. The wife or eldest daughter prepares tea and pancakes, and the plate of pancakes is laid on the top of the rush cross. Prayers are said, and the family partake of St. Bridget's supper. The crosses are hung up over doors and beds to bring good luck. In former times sowans or flummery was eaten instead of pancakes. I have heard of similar customs in other places. At Tobermore those who bring in the rushes ask at the door, "May St. Bridget come in?" "Yes, she may," is the answer. The rushes are put on a rail under the table while the family partake of tea. Afterwards the crosses are made, and, as at Maghera, hung up over doors and beds.[10]

This custom probably comes to us from pre-Christian times. The cross in its varied forms is a very ancient symbol, sometimes representing the sun, sometimes the four winds of heaven. Schlieman discovered it on the pottery of the Troad; it is found in Egypt, India, China, and Japan, and among the people of the Bronze Period it appears frequently on pottery, jewellery, and coins.

Now, St. Bridget had a pagan predecessor, Brigit, a poetess of the Tuatha de Danann, and whom we may perhaps regard as a female Apollo. Cormac, in his "Glossary," tells us she was a daughter of the Dagda and a goddess whom all poets adored, and whose two sisters were Brigit the physician and Brigit the smith. Probably the three sisters represent the same divine or semi-divine person whom we may identify with the British goddess Brigantia and the Gaulish Brigindo.

May we not see, then, in these rush crosses a very ancient symbol, used in pagan times, and which was probably consecrated by early Christian missionaries, and given a new significance?

The harvest knots or bows are connected with another old custom which was, until recently, observed at Maghera. When the harvest was gathered in, the last handful of oats, the corn of this country, was left standing. It was plaited in three parts and tied at the top, and was called by the Irish name "luchter." The reapers stood at some distance, and threw their sickles at the luchter, and the man who cut it was exempt from paying his share of the feast. Daniel McKenna told me he had seen some fine sickles broken in trying to hit the luchter. It was afterwards carried home; the young girls plaited harvest knots and put them in their hair, while the lads wore them in their caps and buttonholes. A dance followed the feast. The knots, with the ears of corn attached, are, I am told, the true old Irish type, while it is thought that the smaller ones were made after a pattern brought from England by the harvest reapers on their return home. I heard of the same custom at Portstewart and also in the Valley of the Roe, where the last sheaf of oats was called the "hare," and the throwing of the sickles was termed the "churn." In some places the last sheaf itself was called the "churn," but by whatever name it was known the man who hit it was regarded as the victor, and was given the best seat at the feast, or a reward of some kind. An old woman above ninety years of age repeated to me a song about the churn, or kirn, and she and many others remember well the custom and the feast which followed, when both whisky and tea were served.

In some districts the last sheaf is termed the "Cailleagh,"[11] or old wife.

A similar custom in Devonshire has been described by Mr. Pearse Chope in the _London Devonian Year Book_ for 1910, p. 127. Here corn is wheat, and a sheaf of the finest ears, termed the "neck," is carried by one of the men to an elevated spot; the reapers form themselves into a ring, and each man holding his hook above his head, they all join in "the weird cry, 'A neck! a neck! a neck! We ha' un! we ha' un! we ha' un!' This is repeated several times, with the occasional variation: 'A neck! a neck! a neck! God sa' un! God sa' un! God sa' un!' After this ceremony the man with the neck has to run to the kitchen, and get it there dry, while the maids wait with buckets and pitchers of water to 'souse' him and the neck." Mr. Chope adds that in most cases the neck is more or less in the form of a woman, and undoubtedly represented the spirit of the harvest, and that "the main idea of the ceremony seems to have been that in cutting the corn the spirit was gradually driven into the last handful.... As it was needful to cut the corn and bury the seed, so it was necessary to kill the corn spirit in order that it might rise again in fresh youth and vigour in the coming crop."[12]

I think we may safely assume that the Irish churn had a similar origin, and that in throwing the sickles the aim of the ancient reapers was to kill the spirit of the corn.

We have seen that in the North of Ireland the last sheaf is frequently termed the "hare," and in many other countries the corn spirit takes the form of an animal. In his recent volumes of the _Golden Bough_, entitled "Spirits of the Corn and the Wild," Dr. Frazer mentions many animals, such as the wolf, goat, fox, dog, bull, cow, horse, hare, which represent the corn spirit lurking in the last patch of standing corn. He tells us that "at harvest a number of wild animals, such as hares, rabbits, and partridges, are commonly driven by the progress of the reaping into the last patch of standing corn, and make their escape from it as it is being cut down.... Now, primitive man, to whom magical changes of shape seem perfectly credible, finds it most natural that the spirit of the corn, driven from his home in the ripe grain, should make his escape in the form of the animal, which is seen to rush out of the last patch of corn as it falls under the scythe of the reaper."[13]

To return to Maghera. The morning passed swiftly as I listened to my guide's description of these old customs, and it was after two o'clock when I said good-bye to him at his cottage, and found myself again in the main street of Maghera. I now wished to visit the Fort of Dunglady, and after a refreshing cup of tea, engaged a car. The driver knew the country well, and, going uphill and downhill, we passed through the village of Culnady, and were soon close to this fine fort. A few minutes' walk, and I stood on the outer rampart, and gazed across the inner circles at the cattle grazing on the central enclosure.

This fort was visited in 1902 by the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland, when a very interesting paper, written by Miss Jane Clark of Kilrea, was read. She mentions that Dr. O'Donovan considered this fort one of the most interesting he had met with; not so magnificent as the Dun of Keltar at Downpatrick, but much better fortified, and states that a map of the time of Charles I. represents Dunglady Fort as a prominent object, and shows three houses built upon it, one of considerable size. Quoting from an unpublished letter of Mr. J. Stokes, she refers to the triple rampart, which makes the diameter of the whole to be three hundred and thirty feet. There was formerly a draw well in the middle of the fort, and at one time it was used as a burial-ground by members of the Society of Friends. Miss Clark also referred to a smaller fort at Culnady, which had been demolished. The two mounds in the centre of this rath had been formed of earth on a stone foundation.

A rapid drive brought me back to Maghera in time for a short visit to the ruins of the Church of St. Lurach, popularly known in the district as St. Lowry. There is a curious sculpture of the Crucifixion over the west doorway, which is shown in the sketch of this doorway by Petrie in Lord Dunraven's "Notes on Irish Architecture."[14]

I must now conclude this account of my visit to Maghera, but may I mention that farther north there are other interesting antiquities? The large cromlech, called the Broadstone, is some miles from Kilrea. There are several forts in the neighbourhood of that town, which draws its supply of water from a fairy well.

FOOTNOTES:

[7] Read before the Archæological Section of the Belfast Naturalists' Field Club, January 15, 1913.

[8] In "My Schools and Schoolmasters" (chap. x., pp. 222-223, ed. 1854), Hugh Miller describes the goblin who haunted Craig House, near Cromarty Firth, as a "grey-headed, grey-bearded, little old man," and the apparition was thus explained by a herdboy: "_Oh! they're saying_ it's the spirit of the man that was killed on the foundation-stone just after it was laid, and then built intil the wa' by the masons, that he might keep the castle by coming back again; and _they're saying_ that a' the verra auld houses in the kintra had murderit men builded intil them in that way, and that they have a' o' them this bogle."

In "The Study of Man," Professor Haddon gives a number of allusions to the human sacrifice in the building of bridges (pp. 347-356).

[9] See p. 27.

[10] In Plate IV. the larger cross is of rushes, the smaller one is made of straw.

[11] Mr. McKean kindly informs me that he has found this name or its modification "Collya" in Counties Armagh, Monaghan, and Tyrone; also near Cushendall, Co. Antrim, where the ceremony is called "cutting the Cailleagh." He was told this Cailleagh was an old witch, and by "killing" her and taking her into the house you got good luck. At Ballyatoge, at the back of Cat Carn Hill, near Belfast, in the descent to Crumlin, the custom is called "cutting the Granny." At Ballycastle, Co. Antrim, the plait or braid is called the "car-line."

[12] Dr. Frazer also describes this Devonshire custom (see _Golden Bough_, "Spirits of the Corn and the Wild," vol. i., pp. 264-267).

[13] "Spirits of the Corn and the Wild," vol. i., pp. 304, 305.

[14] Vol. i., p. 115.

Ulster Fairies, Danes and Pechts[15]

The fairy lore of Ulster is doubtless dying out, but much may yet be learned about the "gentle" folk, and as we listen to the stories told by the peasantry, we may well ask ourselves what is the meaning of these old legends.

Fairies are regarded on the whole as a kindly race of beings, although if offended they will work dire vengeance. They have no connection with churchyards, and are quite distinct from ghosts. One old woman, who had much to say about fairies, when asked about ghosts, replied rather scornfully, that she did not believe in them. The fairies are supposed to be small--"wee folk"--but we must not think of them as tiny creatures who could hide in a foxglove. To use a North of Ireland phrase, they are the size of a "lump of a boy or girl!" and have been often mistaken for ordinary men or women, until their sudden disappearance marked them as unearthly.

A farmer in Co. Antrim told me that once when a man was taking stones from a cave in a fort, an old man came and asked him would it not be better to get his stones elsewhere than from those ancient buildings. The other, however, continued his work; but when the stranger suddenly disappeared, he became convinced that his questioner was no ordinary mortal. In after-life he often said sadly: "He was a poor man, and would always remain a poor man, because he had taken stones from that cave." The cave was no doubt a souterrain.

An elderly woman in Co. Antrim told me that when a child she one evening saw "a little old woman with a green cloak coming over the burn." She helped her to cross, and afterwards took her to the cottage, where her mother received the stranger kindly, told her she was sorry she could not give her a bed in the house, but that she might sleep in one of the outhouses. The children made Grannie as comfortable as they could, and in the morning went out early to see how she was. They found her up and ready to leave. The child who had first met her said she would again help her across the burn--"But wait," she added, "until I get my bonnet." She ran into the house, but before she came out the old woman had disappeared.

When the mother heard of this she said: "God bless you, child! Don't mind Grannie; she is very well able to take care of herself." And so it was believed that Grannie was a fairy.

I have also heard of a little old man in a three-cornered hat, at first mistaken for a neighbour, but whose sudden disappearance proved him to be a fairy.

In the time of the press-gang a crowd was seen approaching some cottages. Great alarm ensued, and the young men fled; but it was soon discovered that these people did not come from a man-of-war--they were fairies.

A terrible story, showing how the fairies can punish their captives, was told me by an old woman at Armoy, in Co. Antrim, who vouched for it as being "candid truth." A man's wife was carried away by the fairies; he married again, but one night his first wife met him, told him where she was, and besought him to release her, saying that if he would do so she would leave that part of the country and not trouble him any more. She begged him, however, not to make the attempt unless he were confident he could carry it out, as if he failed she would die a terrible death. He promised to save her, and she told him to watch at midnight, when she would be riding past the house with the fairies; she would put her hand in at the window, and he must grasp it and hold tight. He did as she bade him, and although the fairies pulled hard, he had nearly saved her, when his second wife saw what was going on, and tore his hand away. The poor woman was dragged off, and across the fields he heard her piercing cries, and saw next morning the drops of blood where the fairies had murdered her.

Another woman was more fortunate; she was carried off by the fairies at Cushendall, but was able to inform her friends when she and the fairies would be going on a journey, and she told them that if they stroked her with the branch of a rowan-tree she would be free. They did as she desired. She returned to them, apparently having suffered no injury, and in the course of time she married.

This story was told me by a man ninety years of age, living in Glenshesk, in the north of Co. Antrim. He spoke of the fairies as being about two feet in height, said they were dressed in green, and had been seen in daylight making hats of rushes. In Donegal I was also told that the fairies wore high peaked hats made of plaited rushes; but there, as in most parts of Ulster, and indeed of Ireland, the fairies are said to wear red, not green. In Antrim the fairies, like their Scotch kinsfolk, dress in green, but even there are often said to have red or sandy hair.

The Pechts are spoken of as low, stout people, who built some of the "coves" in the forts. An old man, living in the townland of Drumcrow, Co. Antrim, showed me the entrance to one of these artificial caves, and gave me a vivid description of its builders. "The Pechts," he said, "were low-set, heavy-made people, broad in the feet--so broad," he added, with an expressive gesture, "that in rain they could lie down and shelter themselves under their feet." He spoke of them as clad in skins, while an old woman at Armoy said they were dressed in grey. I have seldom heard of the Pechts beyond the confines of Antrim, although an old man in Donegal spoke of them as short people with large, unwieldy feet.

The traditions regarding the Danes vary; sometimes they are spoken of as a tall race, sometimes as a short race. There is little doubt that the tall race were the medieval Danes, while in the short men we have probably a reminiscence of an earlier race.

A widespread belief exists throughout Ireland that the Danes made heather beer, and that the secret perished with them. According to an old woman at the foot of the Mourne Mountains, the Danes had the land in old times, but at last they were conquered, and there remained alive only a father and son. When pressed to disclose how the heather beer was made, the father said: "Kill my son, and I will tell you our secret"; but when the son was slain, he cried: "Kill me also, but our secret you shall never know!" I have the authority of Mr. MacRitchie for stating that a similar story is known in Scotland from the Shetlands to the Mull of Galloway, but there it is told of the Picts.

We all remember Louis Stevenson's ballad of heather ale--how the son was cast into the sea:

"And there on the cliff stood the father, Last of the dwarfish men.

"True was the word I told you: Only my son I feared; For I doubt the sapling courage That goes without the beard. But now in vain is the torture, Fire shall never avail; Here dies in my bosom The secret of heather ale."