Máirtín Ó Cadhain - Graveyard Clay - Cré na Cille

— Ce n’est pas vrai! Mathchat is the word. Matou. 11Mathshlua. Mathghamhain.

— Gast 12was the word for a female cat in proper Old Irish …

— Mais non! Gaiste, a loop, a noose, a snare, a trap, a battery of guns, a convenience. “Oh, gast of gasts in the gast of gasts I am,” 13said Knotted Bottom, as his cloak was being ripped off …

Modern Breton: gast : a woman who has a stall of holy objects, in order to collect money for the poor at pardon in Leon. 14In the dialect of Gwened 15… I’d have to consult my notes about that, Cóilí. But the thèse is right: Old Irish: Gast; S muted before T; Gât : Cat: Pangur Bán : 16 Paintéar: Panther : Big Smart Fat-Cat of Learning …

— Hold on now, my good friend, and I’ll tell you how the cloak was ripped off Knotted Bottom …

— Cóilí, Seán Chite in our village says it was how he lost it …

— Seán Chite in your village! It’s not often a man of your village said anything decent …

— … By the oak of this coffin, Little Cáit, I gave Caitríona Pháidín the pound …

— … A big fur coat on her, Red-haired Tom, like the one Baba Pháidín used to wear, till she had to throw it away after all the smuts that fell on it in Caitríona’s …

— You’re a damned liar, Bríd Terry …

— Peace and quiet is what I want. Stop abusing me, Caitríona …

— … Can I give you any spiritual help, Sweet-talking Stiofán?

— … Billyboy the Post, Master? Bloody tear and ’ounds , if a person is going to die he’s going to die. If Billyboy’s to die, Bloody tear and ’ounds , Master, he’ll stretch out, with no life left …

— … Didn’t the little colt die!

— Didn’t the little mare die!

— It’s many a day since that happened, but Beartla Blackleg told me the little colt died only recently …

— It’s many a day since I had her, indeed. She was great! I bought her at St. Bartholomew’s Fair. It was no bother to her to carry a ton and a half against any hill. Two years exactly I had her …

— As soon as Beartla Blackleg told me the colt died, I said: “Soaking rain killed it. The young fellow hadn’t finished putting the roof on the stable, and he left the colt too long in the open.” “ Bloody tear and ’ounds , that wasn’t it at all,” he said …

— It was around the Feast of St. Bartholomew, of all the days in the year. I was moving the little mare down to the New Field by the house. She had the upper half of the village picked bare. I met Nell and Peadar Nell at the Meadow Height, on their way up home. “Would you have a match?” says Peadar. “By Dad, I might have,” says I. “Where are you going with the little mare, God bless her?” 17he said. “I’m moving her down to the New Field,” said I …

—“Wireworm so,” says I. “ Bloody tear and ’ounds , not at all,” said Beartla Blackleg …

—“She’s a beautiful little mare, God bless yourself and herself,” said Nell. “She would be,” said Peadar, “only for her condition.” “Condition!” said I. “’Tis no bother to her to carry a ton and a half against any hill …”

—“Coughing,” said I. “ Bloody tear and ’ounds , coughing!” said Beartla. “Not at all …”

—“Have you any notion,” said Peadar, “of bringing her to the St. Bartholomew Fair, God bless her?” “Musha, I don’t rightly know,” said I. “I’m between two minds. I’m reluctant to part with her. She’s a great little mare. But I don’t have much fodder this winter.”

—“Worms,” said I. “ Bloody tear and ’ounds ,” said Son of Blackleg …

—“How much would you be asking for her, God bless her?” said Nell. “Musha, if I took her to the fair I’d ask for twenty-three pounds,” said I. “Get away, yourself and your twenty-three pounds!” said Peadar, and he took himself off up the boreen. “Would you accept sixteen pounds?” said Nell. “Indeed then, Nell, I would not,” said I. “Seventeen pounds,” she said. “Get away with your seventeen pounds!” said Peadar. “Come on!” The mother took herself off after him, but she kept looking back at the little white-faced mare …

—“What do you mean, worms?” he said. “ Bloody tear and ’ounds , she had no more worms in her than I had! Didn’t they open her up! …”

— Caitríona Pháidín came over from her own Little Fields of Haws. “What did that pussface have to say?” she said. “She offered me seventeen pounds for the white-faced mare,” said I. “Faith, I’d let her have her for twenty, or for nineteen, even. I’d give her to her for a pound cheaper than I would to a man from outside the village. It would brighten my heart to see her going past me every day. I’d say, from the way she fancied her, herself or her son will be down to me again before morning. They won’t let me take her to the fair.”

“Arrah, that pussface!” said Caitríona. “She’ll destroy your white-faced mare going up those steep rocky paths. If she buys her indeed, may she have no luck with her! …”

—“Devil do I know what cause of death the colt would have so,” said I. “It wouldn’t have been a weak heart, would it? …”

— Faith then, she said that, Seáinín Liam. “Go to the fair,” she said, “with your white-faced mare, and get the right price for her, and don’t heed that pussface’s sweet talk …”

—“ Bloody tear and ’ounds ,” said Son of Blackleg. “What cause of death would it have but to lie down and die? …”

—“Go off to the fair with your white-faced mare,” said Caitríona again. I would never have noticed that she didn’t say “God bless her,” only for the wild way she was glaring at the mare …

—’Tis a great blow for the poor young fellow that the colt is gone. He’ll have plenty to do to get a wife now.

— That evening the mare was puffing and coughing. The following morning with the lark Peadar Nell landed down to me. The two of us went over to the New Field. She was an awful loss, Seáinín Liam! She was stretched out there from ear to tail and not a stir out of her.

— Exactly as the colt was …

—“That is so,” said I. “The evil eye.”

— Indeed then, they say that Caitríona had the evil eye. I wouldn’t buy a colt while she was alive …

— Ababúna! It was pussface Nell put the evil eye on her.

— She went past me without saying “God bless you,” and before I had two more handfuls of oats on the stack I fell off it …

— Faith then, she didn’t say “God bless you” to me, and I twisted my ankle the same day …

— Of course, the Big Master didn’t have a day’s health since he wrote the letter for her. A curse …

— She can’t have put the evil eye on Mannion the Counsellor, for he’s still alive …

— Don’t believe them, Jack! Jack the Scológ! …

— … Did you not hear, Cite, that Tomás Inside migrated yet again? … He did indeed, two weeks ago …

— Ababúna!

— He wasn’t able to get a wink of sleep in Pádraig Chaitríona’s with the grunting of pigs from night till morn. The sow had piglets and they were brought into the house. “Didn’t they have a great need of sows!” he said. “Look at me who never had a sow! I’ll go up to the house where there’s no grunting of pigs and where I’ll have slates over my head.” On his way up to Nell’s he chased Pádraig’s cattle off his patch of land …

— … The cocky old fool, the same Tomás Inside …

— … It would be much more of a shame to you, as you say, if your son had married an Eyetalian . Those blacks are very gentle. Didn’t you see the black who was butler to the Earl long ago?