1. Historical criticism.
2. Comparative philology.
3. Mental philosophy—especially in those moods of mind of which modern civilization furnishes no examples.
To take a familiar illustration. It has been over and over demonstrated that, unless we deny the validity of the common principles of historical evidence, to admit the existence of that peculiar imaginative faculty denominated "second sight" is a necessity. Nor is the faculty, if its existence be admitted, necessarily to be accounted a preternatural gift—being simply the logical result of the cultivation of certain impulses of human intellect seldom, in the experiences of modern society, evoked into activity; being, in fact, the logical deduction of that scenery which surrounded the Highlanders of Scotland, and of that mood of mind which was their prevailing habit. Civilization develops no sublimity of mental strength, except in the region of reason. Moral sublimity is not developed by communion with streets and avenues. Neither is imaginative insight—that which, in ultimate deduction, is inspiration—an inhabiter of palaces. Born of crags, of' mountains, and of the lurid and ghastly grandeur of the tempest—the imaginative insight is the lightning of the mind, and like the lightning at midnight reveals that which to the moon and stars is wrapped in darkness. To educe the principle: the imaginative forms (anthology) into which primitive moral ideas, rude reasonings, and epic-events blossom, are essentially modified by two ever-active causes, namely: idiosyncrasies of race and scenic surroundings. And hence, in reducing the fragmentary imaginings of a people to scientific system, we are compelled to keep constantly in view the idea of answering to the conditions of three problems:
1. Given the scenery of a country and the idiosyncrasies of its people, and we may, in a general way, indicate its anthology; or
2. Given the anthology and idiosyncrasies, and we may, with tolerable accuracy, indicate the leading peculiarities of the scenery; or
3. Given the scenery and anthology, and we may indicate, with exactitude, the leading idiosyncrasies of the people.
Having indicated, by way of preface, the general scope of anthology and the value of its data, we shall devote the remaining portion of this paper to the anthological relics of the Irish race, and especially to its elfin and poetic phases.
Fairies are (among the Irish peasantry) still believed to exist, and to exercise no little influence over the affairs of mortals. They are generally represented as pigmies, and are, so runs the superstition, often seen dancing around solitary thorns, which are believed to be among their most frequented haunts. Hence the veneration of the peasantry for old solitary thorns—the peasantry believing that if these thorns are cut down or maimed, the fairies are thereby provoked, and will either maim the person who has cut the tree, cause his cattle to sicken and die, or otherwise injure his property. Places supposed to be haunted by fairies are termed gentle, as likewise are several herbs, in gathering which a strange ritual is observed. If provoked by any person, it is believed that the fairies will steal and carry away that which is dearest to that person, as his wife, or especially any members of his family in babyhood and before baptism. The castles in which the fairies dwelt were generally believed to be movable at the pleasure of the proprietor, invisible to human eyes, and usually built in ancient forths or raths. Among the principal fairy kings were Firwar, whose castle was at Knock Magha, and Macaneantan, [{392}] whose fairy palace was at Sgraba. Whistling Hill (Knock-na-feadalea), in the county of Down, is still visited by hundreds of the peasantry, who, especially on the last night in October, which is observed with singular ceremonials, aver that they can hear the music of the fairies issuing from the hill. The following verses include the names of the principal places fabled to be inhabited by fairy kings:
"Around Knock-Grein, and Knock-na-Rae,
Bin Builvia, and Keis Korain,
To Bin Eakhlan and Lokh Da-ean,
And thence north-east to Sleive Guilin.
They trod the lofty hills of Mugarna.
Round Sleive Denard and Beal-at-an-draigh.
Down to Daudrin, Dundroma, and Dunardalay,
Right forward to Knock-na-Feadalea."
Which was the route of procession on the night of the last of October, when aërial spirits were supposed to be peculiarly active. The following legend of Whistling Hill we extract from a collection of these legends in the original Irish made by Rev. William Neilson, D.D., and printed by Hogan, No. 15 Lower Ormond Quay, Dublin, in 1808:
"There was au honest, pious man, who lived formerly near the river, by the side of the hill (Whistling Hill); and the vestiges of his house may yet be seen. His name was Thady Hughes; and he had neither wife nor family—his mother, an aged woman, keeping his house.
"Thady went out on a Hallow-eve night to pray, as he was in the habit of doing, on the bank of the river; and looking up to observe the stars, he saw a dusky cloud from the south moving toward him as if impelled by a whirl-wind, and heard the sound of horses just as if a troop of cavalry were tramping along the valley. Thady noticed that they all came over the ford and round the mountain.
"Remembering that he had often heard it said, 'if you cast the dust under your feet against the cloud, if the fairies have any human being with them they are compelled to release him,' Thady seized a handful of the gravel which was under his feet and hurled it, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, against the whirlwind: whereupon fell down a strange lady, weak, faint, and wearily moaning.
"Thady started, but, imagining that the voice of the strange lady's moaning was human, went to the spot where she fell, spoke to her, and took her in his arms and carried her to his mother, who gave her food—the lady eating but little.
"They asked her few questions that night, knowing that she came from the fairy castles. Besides, she appeared to be sick and sorrowful, and did not seem to be in any mood for talking. The next morning, however, she related her story, having first enjoined secrecy, which Thady and his mother promised.
"The strange lady's name was Mary Rourke, and she had formerly lived in the county of Galway, where she was married to a young man named John Joyce, who lived hard by Knock Magha. One year after her marriage with Joyce, King Firwar and his host carried her away to the fairy castle of Knock Magha, leaving something in the form of a dead woman in her place which bulk was duly waked and buried.
"She had been in Knock Magha nearly a year and was daily entertained with dances and songs, notwithstanding she was in sorrow at having been parted from her husband. At length the host of the castle told her that her husband had married another woman; that, therefore, she ought to indulge in grief no longer; and that Firwar and his family were about to visit the province of Ulster, and intended to take her with them. They set out at dawn from Knock Magha forth, both Firwar and host; and many a fairy castle they visited from dawn till fall of night, traveling all mounted on beautiful winged horses.
"After they lost Mary, the fairies did not halt; for they were to feast that Hallow-eve in the fairy castle of Sgraba, with the fairy king, Macaneantan."
The story adds that Thady Hughes married Mary Rourke, and that a difficulty subsequently arose between Thady and John Joyce, who, having heard of the escape of the strange lady from the fairies, went to Thady's cottage and claimed her as his wife. The matter afterward came before the bishop for adjudication, who adjudged that as Mary had, to all appearances, died and been buried as the wife of John Joyce, she was under no obligation to be his wife after her death. And thus ends the legend.