Irish Wonders Part 9

[Ill.u.s.tration: Initial: "The Banshee"]

Although the Irish have the reputation of being grossly superst.i.tious, they are not a whit more so than the peasantry of England, France, or Germany, nor scarcely as much addicted to superst.i.tious beliefs and fancies as the lower cla.s.s of Scottish Highlanders. The Irish imagination is, however, so lively as to endow the legends of the Emerald Isle with an individuality not possessed by those of most other nations, while the Irish command of language presents the creatures of Hibernian fancy in a garb so vividly real and yet so fantastically original as to make an impression sometimes exceedingly startling.

Of the creations of the Irish imagination, some are humorous, some grotesque, and some awe-inspiring even to sublimity, and chief among the last cla.s.s is "the weird-wailing Banshee, that sings by night her mournful cry," giving notice to the family she attends that one of its members is soon to be called to the spirit-world. The name of this dreaded attendant is variously p.r.o.nounced, as Banshee, Bans.h.i.+, and Benshee, being translated by different scholars, the Female Fairy, the Woman of Peace, the Lady of Death, the Angel of Death, the White Lady of Sorrow, the Nymph of the Air, and the Spirit of the Air. The Banshee is quite distinct from the Fearshee or s.h.i.+fra, the Man of Peace, the latter bringing good tidings and singing a joyful lay near the house when unexpected good fortune is to befall any or all its inmates. The Banshee is really a disembodied soul, that of one who, in life, was strongly attached to the family, or who had good reason to hate all its members. Thus, in different instances, the Banshee's song may be inspired by opposite motives. When the Banshee loves those whom she calls, the song is a low, soft chant, giving notice, indeed, of the close proximity of the angel of death, but with a tenderness of tone that rea.s.sures the one destined to die and comforts the survivors; rather a welcome than a warning, and having in its tones a thrill of exultation, as though the messenger spirit were bringing glad tidings to him summoned to join the waiting throng of his ancestors. If, during her lifetime, the Banshee was an enemy of the family, the cry is the scream of a fiend, howling with demoniac delight over the coming death-agony of another of her foes.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Music: Song of the Banshee]

In some parts of Ireland there exists a belief that the spirits of the dead are not taken from earth, nor do they lose all their former interest in earthly affairs, but enjoy the happiness of the saved, or suffer the punishment imposed for their sins, in the neighborhood of the scenes among which they lived while clothed in flesh and blood. At particular crises in the affairs of mortals, these disenthralled spirits sometimes display joy or grief in such a manner as to attract the attention of living men and women. At weddings they are frequently unseen guests; at funerals they are always present; and sometimes, at both weddings and funerals, their presence is recognized by aerial voices or mysterious music known to be of unearthly origin. The spirits of the good wander with the living as guardian angels, but the spirits of the bad are restrained in their action, and compelled to do penance at or near the places where their crimes were committed. Some are chained at the bottoms of the lakes, others buried under ground, others confined in mountain gorges; some hang on the sides of precipices, others are transfixed on the tree-tops, while others haunt the homes of their ancestors, all waiting till the penance has been endured and the hour of release arrives. The Castle of Dunseverick, in Antrim, is believed to be still inhabited by the spirit of a chief, who there atones for a horrid crime, while the castles of Dunluce, of Magrath, and many others are similarly peopled by the wicked dead. In the Abbey of Clare, the ghost of a sinful abbot walks and will continue to do so until his sin has been atoned for by the prayers he unceasingly mutters in his tireless march up and down the aisles of the ruined nave.

The Banshee is of the spirits who look with interested eyes on earthly doings; and, deeply attached to the old families, or, on the contrary, regarding all their members with a hatred beyond that known to mortals, lingers about their dwellings to soften or to aggravate the sorrow of the approaching death. The Banshee attends only the old families, and though their descendants, through misfortune, may be brought down from high estate to the ranks of peasant-tenants, she never leaves nor forgets them till the last member has been gathered to his fathers in the churchyard.

The MacCarthys, Magraths, O'Neills, O'Rileys, O'Sullivans, O'Reardons, O'Flahertys, and almost all other old families of Ireland, have Banshees, though many representatives of these names are in abject poverty.

The song of the Banshee is commonly heard a day or two before the death of which it gives notice, though instances are cited of the song at the beginning of a course of conduct or line of undertaking that resulted fatally. Thus, in Kerry, a young girl engaged herself to a youth, and at the moment her promise of marriage was given, both heard the low, sad wail above their heads. The young man deserted her, she died of a broken heart, and the night before her death, the Banshee's song, loud and clear, was heard outside the window of her mother's cottage. One of the O'Flahertys, of Galway, marched out of his castle with his men on a foray, and, as his troops filed through the gateway, the Banshee was heard high above the towers of the fortress. The next night she sang again, and was heard no more for a month, when his wife heard the wail under her window, and on the following day his followers brought back his corpse. One of the O'Neills of Shane Castle, in Antrim, heard the Banshee as he started on a journey before daybreak, and was accidentally killed some time after, but while on the same journey.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The "Hateful Banshee"]

The wail most frequently comes at night, although cases are cited of Banshees singing during the daytime, and the song is often inaudible to all save the one for whom the warning is intended. This, however, is not general, the death notice being for the family rather than for the doomed individual. The spirit is generally alone, though rarely several are heard singing in chorus. A lady of the O'Flaherty family, greatly beloved for her social qualities, benevolence, and piety, was, some years ago, taken ill at the family mansion near Galway, though no uneasiness was felt on her account, as her ailment seemed nothing more than a slight cold. After she had remained in-doors for a day or two several of her acquaintances came to her room to enliven her imprisonment, and while the little party were merrily chatting, strange sounds were heard, and all trembled and turned pale as they recognized the singing of a chorus of Banshees. The lady's ailment developed into pleurisy, and she died in a few days, the chorus being again heard in a sweet, plaintive requiem as the spirit was leaving her body. The honor of being warned by more than one Banshee is, however, very great, and comes only to the purest of the pure.

The "hateful Banshee" is much dreaded by members of a family against which she has enmity. A n.o.ble Irish family, whose name is still familiar in Mayo, is attended by a Banshee of this description. This Banshee is the spirit of a young girl deceived and afterwards murdered by a former head of the family. With her dying breath she cursed her murderer, and promised she would attend him and his forever. Many years pa.s.sed, the chieftain reformed his ways, and his youthful crime was almost forgotten even by himself, when, one night, he and his family were seated by the fire, and suddenly the most horrid shrieks were heard outside the castle walls. All ran out, but saw nothing. During the night the screams continued as though the castle were besieged by demons, and the unhappy man recognized, in the cry of the Banshee, the voice of the young girl he had murdered. The next night he was a.s.sa.s.sinated by one of his followers, when again the wild, unearthly screams of the spirit were heard, exulting over his fate. Since that night, the "hateful Banshee" has never failed to notify the family, with shrill cries of revengeful gladness, when the time of one of their number had arrived.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The "Friendly Banshee"]

Banshees are not often seen, but those that have made themselves visible differ as much in personal appearance as in the character of their cries.

The "friendly Banshee" is a young and beautiful female spirit, with pale face, regular, well-formed features, hair sometimes coal-black, sometimes golden; eyes blue, brown, or black. Her long, white drapery falls below her feet as she floats in the air, chanting her weird warning, lifting her hands as if in pitying tenderness bestowing a benediction on the soul she summons to the invisible world. The "hateful Banshee" is a horrible hag, with angry, distorted features; maledictions are written in every line of her wrinkled face, and her outstretched arms call down curses on the doomed member of the hated race. Though generally the only intimation of the presence of the Banshee is her cry, a notable instance of the contrary exists in the family of the O'Reardons, to the doomed member of which the Banshee always appears in the shape of an exceedingly beautiful woman, who sings a song so sweetly solemn as to reconcile him to his approaching fate.

The prophetic spirit does not follow members of a family who go to a foreign land, but should death overtake them abroad, she gives notice of the misfortune to those at home. When the Duke of Wellington died, the Banshee was heard wailing round the house of his ancestors, and during the Napoleonic campaigns, she frequently notified Irish families of the death in battle of Irish officers and soldiers. The night before the battle of the Boyne several Banshees were heard singing in the air over the Irish camp, the truth of their prophecy being verified by the death-roll of the next day.

How the Banshee is able to obtain early and accurate information from foreign parts of the death in battle of Irish soldiers is yet undecided in Hibernian mystical circles. Some believe that there are, in addition to the two kinds already mentioned, "silent Banshees," who act as attendants to the members of old families, one to each member; that these silent spirits follow and observe, bringing back intelligence to the family Banshee at home, who then, at the proper seasons, sings her dolorous strain. A partial confirmation of this theory is seen in the fact that the Banshee has given notice at the family seat in Ireland of deaths in battles fought in every part of the world. From North America, the West Indies, Africa, Australia, India, China; from every point to which Irish regiments have followed the roll of the British drums, news of the prospective shedding of Irish blood has been brought home, and the slaughter preceded by a Banshee wail outside the ancestral windows. But it is due to the reader to state, that this silent Banshee theory is by no means well or generally received, the burden of evidence going to show that there are only two kinds of Banshees, and that, in a supernatural way, they know the immediate future of those in whom they are interested, not being obliged to leave Ireland for the purpose of obtaining their information.

Such is the wild Banshee, once to be heard in every part of Ireland, and formerly believed in so devoutly that to express a doubt of her existence was little less than blasphemy. Now, however, as she attends only the old families and does not change to the new, with the disappearance of many n.o.ble Irish names during the last half century have gone also their Banshees, until in only a few retired districts of the west coast is the dreaded spirit still found, while in most parts of the island she has become only a superst.i.tion, and from the majesty of a death-boding angel, is rapidly sinking to a level with the Fairy, the Leprechawn and the Pooka; the subject for tales to amuse the idle and terrify the young.

THE ROUND TOWERS.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Initial: "The Round Towers"]

Among the ruins spread everywhere over the island, relics of prehistoric Ireland are common, but wonderful as are many of these monumental remains of a people as mysterious as their own structures, none are more remarkable than the round towers, found in almost every locality of note either for its history or antiquities. The number of these towers was formerly very great, but from the ravages of time, the convenience of the structures as quarries of ready hewn stone, and intentional destruction by intolerant or thoughtless persons, they have gradually disappeared, until, at present, only eighty-three remain, of which seventeen are nearly perfect, the remainder being in a more or less advanced stage of dilapidation.

The round towers vary in height, those remaining perfect or nearly so being from seventy to two hundred feet, and from eighty to thirty feet in diameter at the base. The entrance is twelve to eighteen feet from the ground, the tower being divided into stories about ten feet high, each story lighted by a single window, the highest compartment having invariably four lancet windows opening to the cardinal points of the compa.s.s. The roof is conical, made of overlapping stone slabs, and a circle of grotesquely carved heads and zigzag ornamentation is found beneath the projecting cornice. The masonry is of hewn stone, but not the least regularity is observable in the size or shape of the blocks, some being very large, others small, and every figure known to the geometrician can be found in the stones of a single tower.

All towers still standing occupy sites noted as historical, and evidence, sufficient to warrant the belief, can be adduced to show that almost every historic spot on Irish soil once boasted one or more of these interesting structures. The existing towers are generally found close by the ruins of churches, abbeys, or other ecclesiastical buildings, and the effect on the landscape of the ma.s.ses of ruins, surmounted by a single tall shaft, is often picturesque in the extreme. The proximity of the tower to the church is so common as to lead writers on Irish antiquities to conjecture that the former was constructed by the monks who built the church; those advocating the Christian origin of the round tower taking the ground that it was built, either as a place of safe-keeping for valuable property, as a belfry for the church, or for the purpose of providing cells for hermits.

No one of these suppositions is tenable. In the troublous times of Ireland, and, unhappily, it has had scarcely any other kind, the monasteries and ecclesiastical buildings of every description were generally spared, even by the most ruthless marauders; and, had this not been the case, those possessing sufficient valuable property to attract the cupidity of the lawless were far more likely to provide an inconspicuous hiding place for their wealth than to advertise its possession by erecting a tower which, from every direction, was invariably the most conspicuous feature of the landscape. That the towers were not intended for belfries is evident from the fact that, in nearly every case, the churches close by are provided with bell-towers forming a part of the sacred edifice, which would not be the case if the round towers had been designed for the purpose of supporting bells. That they were not built for hermit-cells is apparent from the fact that hermit-caves and cells are abundant in Ireland, and, almost without exception, in secluded spots. No doubt, from time to time, some of the round towers were adapted to each of these uses, but, in every case, convenience was the motive, the monks and church-builders altering the existing structure to meet a pressing necessity. In fact, there is excellent reason for believing that the round towers were not built by the monks at all, the monastic writers being very fond of recording, with great particularity, what they built and how they built it, and in no pa.s.sage do they mention the construction of a round tower. Whenever allusion is made to these structures, their existence is taken for granted, and several church historians who mention the erection of churches at the foot of a round tower demonstrate that this peculiar edifice antedates the introduction of Christianity into Ireland.

The round towers are indisputably of pagan origin, and of antiquity so great as to precede written history. There is no doubt that the early Irish were sun and fire wors.h.i.+ppers, and many excellent reasons may be given for the belief that the round towers were built by the Druids for purposes of religion.

Every tower has an extensive view to the East, so as to command an early sight of the rising sun, the dawn being the favorite hour for celebrating sun-wors.h.i.+p. Every tower contains, at its base, so extraordinary a quant.i.ty of ashes and embers as to compel the conviction that, in each, a sacred or perpetual fire was kept burning. In every locality where a round tower stands, there linger among the peasantry traditions pointing to a use sacred but not Christian. Perhaps the most significant indication of their former character as places sacred to sun and fire-wors.h.i.+p is found in the names by which, to the present day, they are known among the common people. The generic Irish name for the round tower is Colcagh, fire-G.o.d; but the proper names designating particular towers are still more characteristic. Turaghan, the Tower of Fire; Aidhne, the Circle of Fire; Aghadoe, the Field of Fire; Teghadoe, the Fire House; Arddoe, the Height of Fire; Kennegh, the Chief Fire; Lusk, the Flame; Fertagh, the Burial Fire Tower; Fertagh na Guara, the Burial Fire Tower of the Fire Wors.h.i.+ppers; Gall-Ti-mor, the Flame of the Great Circle; Gall-Baal, the Flame of the Community; Baal-Tinne, the Fire of the Community, and many similar names, retain the memory and wors.h.i.+p of the Druids when written records are silent or wanting.

In addition to the significance contained in the names of the towers, the hills, mountains, or islands on which they are situated have, very frequently, designations conveying an allusion, either to the circle, a favorite and sacred figure in Druidical holy places, or to the sun or fire wors.h.i.+p. Another curious circ.u.mstance, still further identifying the round tower with the rites of sun wors.h.i.+p, is found in the fact that wherever this form of religion has prevailed, it has been accompanied by well or spring wors.h.i.+p, and, generally, by the veneration of the ox as a sacred animal. Most of the Irish round towers have near them springs or wells still regarded as holy, and concerning which many tales of miraculous cures are told, while in not a few instances there yet linger in the same neighborhoods legends of sacred cows, usually the property of some famous local saint or hero.

The round towers of Ireland are, in fact, a portion of a vast system of towers of identical construction, and by following the geographical course of these structures, the march of fire wors.h.i.+p from the East may be determined with some accuracy. Pa.s.s from Ireland to Brittany, and there, in the mountainous or hilly districts, several towers are found exactly like those of Ireland. In the north of Spain several remain; in Portugal, one; in the south of Spain they are numerous. Opposite the Spanish coast, in the north of Africa, there are also many, being found in various places in Morocco, Algeria, Tunis, and Tripoli. In Sardinia, several hundred are still standing; and written testimony to the purpose for which they were erected is abundant among the Sardinian records. In Minorca, among many others, is the famous Tower of Allaior. The mountain districts of south Italy have numbers of them, and they are also found on several hills in Sicily. Malta has the Giant's Tower, in every particular of appearance and construction identical with the Tower of Cashel in Ireland. Cyprus has them, and they still remain in Candia and on the coast of Asia Minor. In Palestine none have yet been found, or at least have not been recorded by travellers or surveyors; a fact that may, perhaps, be fully accounted for by the zeal of the Hebrews in destroying every vestige of Canaanitish idolatry; but, with some probability, it is conjectured that the "high places" broken down may have been towers of the sun, for the Canaanites were fire wors.h.i.+ppers, and the name Baal is found alike in Palestine and Ireland.

In Syria, north of Palestine, they begin again; are found in Armenia, and in the Caucasus, so numerously as to crown almost every hill-top. East of the Caspian Sea they abound, and towards the centre of Asia as far as records of exploration and travel present reliable accounts of the country. Returning to the sh.o.r.es of the Mediterranean, their existence on the northern coast of Africa has been mentioned. In Arabia and on the Egyptian sh.o.r.e of the Red Sea, they stand in considerable numbers, are found in Persia, Afghanistan, Beloochistan, India, Ceylon, and Sumatra, in some places being still used, it is said, for fire wors.h.i.+p.

Throughout this vast extent of territory there is no material difference in the shape, appearance, or construction of the round tower. In Sumatra and Java, as in Ireland, the door is elevated, the building divided into stories; the walls are constructed of many sided hewn stones, the upper story is lighted by four windows looking to the cardinal points, the cornice has the same kind of zigzag ornamentation, and the roof is constructed in the same manner, of overlapping stones. Even the names are nearly the same, for in India and Ireland these buildings are Fire-Towers, Fire-Circles, or Sun-Houses.

Another bit of circ.u.mstantial evidence going to prove that the round towers of Ireland were erected by a people having the same religion and similar religious observances as the natives of India is seen in the legends concerning the Indian towers. In India, the local traditions tell how each of these towers was built in one night by some notable character who was afterwards buried in it. In Ireland, the same legend is found; to the present day, the peasants of the neighborhood telling with gusto the story of the tower being first seen in the early morning, rising toward the sky on a spot where, the evening before, no preparations for building had been visible.

The Tower Tulloherin, for instance, was built in one night by a monk who came to the neighborhood as a missionary. Finding the people inhospitable, and unable to obtain lodging for the night, he determined to remain, believing there could not be found in Ireland a locality more in need of missionary work. So, on the evening of his arrival, he began to build, and by morning the tower was finished, and he took up his abode in it, preaching from its entrance to the crowds attracted by the fame of the miracle. The story of the Tower of Aghagower is similar, save in one particular, the saint in this case being aided by angels. Kilmackduagh was built in one night by angels without human a.s.sistance, the work being done at the solicitation of a saint who watched and prayed while the angels toiled.

Ballygaddy has a history somewhat less miraculous, the local peasant historian attributing its origin to a "giont" of the neighborhood. Having received a belligerent message from another "giont," he took a stand on Ballygaddy hill to watch for the coming of his antagonist, proposing, as the humble chronicler stated, "to bate the head aff the braggin' vagabone if he said as much as Boo." For seven days and nights he stood upon the hill, and at the end of that time, as may readily be believed, "his legs wor that tired he thought they'd dhrop aff him." To relieve those valuable members he put up the tower as a support to lean on. The bellicose gigantic party who proposed the encounter finally came to time, and lovers of antiquities will be glad to learn that the tower-building giant "didn't lave a whole bone in the blaggard's ugly carkidge." After the battle, the victor "shtarted for to kick the tower down," but, upon second thought, concluded to put the roof on it and "lave it for a wondher to thim little mortials that come afther him," for which consideration all honor to his memory.

The Tower Ardpatrick was, according to tradition, built under the auspices of Ireland's great saint, while the high tower on the Rock of Cashel is attributed, by the same authority, to Cormac Macarthy, king and archbishop of Cashel, who, being once engaged in hostilities with a neighboring potentate, needed a watch-tower, so summoned all his people, built the tower in one night, and, at sunrise, was able by its help to ascertain the location of the opposing army and so give it an overwhelming defeat. The Glendalough Tower was built by a demon at the command of Saint Kevin. This saint had conspicuously routed Satan on a previous occasion; so the arch-fiend and all the well-informed of his subjects kept at a safe distance from Glendalough, not caring to take any risks with so doughty a spiritual champion as Saint Kevin had proved himself to be in more than one encounter.

"But there was wan snakin' vagabone av a divil that come from furrin parts an' hadn't heard the news about the saint, and the blessed saint caught him wan avenin' an' set him to work to build that tower. So the black rogue wint at it as hard as he knew how, an' was workin' away wid all the hands he had, as busy as a barmaid at a fair, thinkin' that afore sunrise he'd have it so high it 'ud fall down be itself an' do the blessed saint not a ha'porth av good. But afther batin' owld Satan himself, Saint Kevin wasn't to be deludhered be wan av his undershtrappers, an' was watchin'

wid his two eyes every minnit o' the time, so whin the divil had the tower high enough, he threw his bishop's cap at it, an' it become shtone an'

made the roof, so the omadhawn divil was baten at his own game."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Crackin' their Haythen Shkulls"]

The round tower is not without a touch of romance, one of the most notable structures, Monaster-Boice, having been built by a woman under peculiar circ.u.mstances. According to the legend, she was young, beautiful, and good, but though she ought to have been happy also, she was not, being persecuted by the attentions of a suitor chieftain, whose reputation must have been far from irreproachable, since he was characterized by the narrator of the story either as an "outprobrious ruffin," or "a sootherin', deludherin', murtherin' villin." Loving another chief who was a "gintleman entirely," and determined to escape from the obnoxious attentions of the "ruffin" already mentioned, the lady, having learned that her disagreeable suitor had resolved to carry her off, employed two men to aid her the night before the proposed abduction, and, before morning, built the tower and took up her abode in the topmost chamber. In due season the chieftain came "wid a gang av thaves," but, disappointed in his "endayvor fur to stale away her varchew," besieged the tower. Having taken the precaution to provide a good supply of heavy stones, the lady pelted her persecutors vigorously, "crackin' their haythen shkulls the same as they wor egg-sh.e.l.ls." Her heroism was rewarded by her deliverance, for her lover, hearing of her desperate situation, came to her relief and attacked the besiegers, so that "wid the lady flingin' shtones at the front o' them, an' the other fellys beltin' 'em behind, they got disconsarted as not knowin' phat to do next, an' so they up's an' runs like as tin thousand divils wor parshooin' afther thim. So she was saved an' brought down, an' was married to the boy av her heart the next Sunday, Glory be to G.o.d, an' that's the way the tower come to be built, an' shows that thim that thries to marry a lady agin her will always comes to grief, fur av she cant bate thim wid her tongue she can some other way, fur a woman can always get phat she's afther, an' bad luck to the lie that's in that."

THE POLICE.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Initial: "The Police"]

During the last few years, the most obviously conspicuous individual in Ireland is the policeman. Go where you will, if the policeman is not there before you, the reason is probably to be found in the fact that he has just been there and will likely return before you leave. In Dublin, Cork, Limerick, Athlone, Belfast, and other large cities and towns, the police are seen at every corner, singly, in pairs, and in groups. Fresh-looking police are going on duty; tired-out police are going home; clean, well-brushed police are starting to the country on horseback, having heard reports of rural disturbance; muddy police are coming in on jaunting-cars, with prisoners from the nearest eviction. Everywhere you meet them; young policemen, with fresh, rosy complexions; middle-aged policemen, with stern faces, bearing strong evidence of Irish pugilistic talent; old policemen, with deeply scarred and weather-beaten countenances, looking forward to speedy retirement and a moderate pension; they are in the city, in the village, on the high road, in the by-way, and on the mountain paths. At every railroad station they are to be seen in pairs, observing those who arrive and depart, and noting all that may seem suspicious in the appearance and actions of travellers.

As long as a stranger remains on the common, well-frequented tourist routes he escapes with a sharp glance of inspection, but let him leave the courses usually followed by travellers, or go into parts of the country not often visited by strangers, and he at once becomes an object of intense suspicion. You are driving along a retired country road; at the turn of the hill a policeman heaves in sight. He speaks pleasantly, and if nothing arouses his suspicion, he will pa.s.s on and you see him no more; but if the slightest distrust of you or your business finds lodgment in his mind, he marks you as a possible victim. He temporarily vanishes; look round as you proceed on your journey, and you may, by chance, catch a glimpse of him a mile or two away, peeping over a wall after you, but in the next village, where you stop for the night, he reappears, and the local policemen, after his coming, will be sure to observe you with some degree of attention. Leave your baggage in the public room of the inn and step out on the street. In comes the policeman, ascertains your name, takes a mental inventory of your effects, makes a note of the railway and hotel labels on your trunks, and goes away to report. A sharp detective is the policeman even in the country districts. He knows articles of American manufacture at a glance, and needs only to see your satchel to tell whether it came from America or was made in England. Talk with him, and he will chat cordially about the weather, the crops, the state of the markets, but all the time he is trying to make out who you are and what is your business. His eyes ramble from your hat to your shoes, and by the time the conversation is ended, he has prepared for the "sargeant" a report of your personal appearance and apparel. "Hat, English; coat, London-made; trousers, doubtful; shoes, American; party evidently an Irish Yankee, who might as well be looked after."

The Irish policeman, or "consthable," as he is familiarly known on his native sod, is the son of a peasant. Finding life as a laborer or tenant in either case intolerable, he debated in his own mind the question whether he should emigrate to America, enlist in the British army, or apply for a place on the constabulary. The first step was, to him, the most acceptable, but he lacked the money to go; of the two courses left open, enlistment in the army was the more pleasant, since in Ireland the constabulary are almost entirely cut off from a.s.sociation with the people in a social or friendly way, a general belief prevailing that the Irishman who enters the police has deserted the cause of his country and entered the service of her deadliest foe. So the police are avoided by their former companions, shunned by old friends, and, lastly, what is of some consequence to a genuine Irishman, are given the cold shoulder by the ladies. To be sure, the Irishman who enlists in the British army would be treated in the same way at his old home, but as he usually leaves never to return, the case is materially different. Chance, or the obligation of supporting aged parents or a helpless family of young brothers and sisters, usually determines the question, and the young Irishman enters the constabulary, thenceforth to be a social leper, for the constable is hated by his countrymen with a hatred that knows no bounds.

From the day he puts on his neat blue uniform and saucer-like cap, the constable, in the troubled west coast counties, carries his life in his hand. Every hedge he scrutinizes with a careful eye; behind it may lurk an a.s.sa.s.sin. Every division wall is watched for suspicious indications, his alertness being quickened by the knowledge that he is guarding his own life. He is compelled to undertake duties obnoxious to his own feelings and sense of justice, and to risk life and limb to carry out repugnant orders. A bad year comes, a tenant is in arrears and cannot pay rent; the agent determines on an eviction and sends for the police. The constables arrive in force, but the tenant has antic.i.p.ated them and collected a crowd of friends. The hut is closed and barred, while inside are half a score of men and women, determined to resist as long as resistance is of any avail.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Police and the Tenants]

As soon as the police appear on the scene, a babel of Irish voices ensues and fearful curses and imprecations are hurled at all concerned in the eviction, succeeded by showers of stones from enthusiastic outside supporters of the cabin's defenders. The constables draw their clubs and make a rush, striking right and left at the heads of the crowd. A desperate battle ensues, in which the police are generally victorious, driving the rabble to a safe distance; then, leaving a portion of the force to keep them away, the remainder return to effect an entrance to the hut. A beam, handled by several pairs of strong arms, speedily demolishes the miserable pretence of a door, then in go the police, to be met with fists, clubs, stones, showers of boiling water, and other effective and offensive means of defence. After a stubborn contest the cabin is finally cleared; the furniture, if there be any, is set out in the road, the thatched roof torn off and scattered on the ground, the walls levelled, and the police, battered with sticks and stones, scalded, burned, return to headquarters with their prisoners. Not infrequently a policeman is killed on one of these evictionary expeditions, the defence of his slayers being generally grounded on the statement made in court in one instance of this kind near Limerick. "We niver intinded fur to kill him at all, but his shkull was too thin entirely for a consthable, an' broke wid the batin' he was afther gettin'."