And questioning the prosody, what Englishman will not join in the sentiment?
In the interlude the band (the pipe) performs a favourite air. Jack the waiter and candle-snuffer looks to see that all is ready: and after the dire business of the tragedy, comes in to sprinkle the stage with water (and perhaps a little whisky in it). Thus all things being arranged, the audience takes its seat again, and the afterpiece begins.
Two of the little yellow volumes purchased at Ennis are entitled The Irish and the Hibernian Tales. The former are modern, and the latter of an ancient sort; and so great is the superiority of the old stories over the new, in fancy, dramatic interest, and humour, that one can’t help fancying Hibernia must have been a very superior country to Ireland.
These Hibernian novels, too, are evidently intended for the Hedge-School universities. They have the old tricks and some of the old plots that one has read in many popular legends of almost all countries, European and Eastern: successful cunning is the great virtue applauded; and the heroes pass through a thousand wild extravagant dangers, such as could only have been invented when art was young and faith was large. And as the honest old author of the tales says, ‘they are suited to the meanest as well as the highest capacity, tending both to improve the fancy and enrich the mind,’ let us conclude the night’s entertainment by reading one or two of them, and reposing after the doleful tragedy which has been represented. The ‘Black Thief’ is worthy of the Arabian Nights, I think,—as wild and odd as an Eastern tale.
It begins, as usual, with a king and a queen who lived once on a time in the south of Ireland, and had three sons: but the queen being on her death-bed, and fancying her husband might marry again, and unwilling that her children should be under the jurisdiction of any other woman, besought his majesty to place them in a tower at her death, and keep them there safe until the young princes should come of age.
The queen dies: the king of course marries again, and the new queen, who bears a son too, hates the offspring of the former marriage, and looks about for means to destroy them.
‘At length the queen, having got some business with the hen-wife, went herself to her, and after a long conference passed, was taking leave of her, when the hen-wife prayed that if ever she should come back to her again she might break her neck. The queen, greatly incensed at such a daring insult from one of her meanest subjects, to make such a prayer on her, demanded immediately the reason, or she would have her put to death. “It was worth your while, madam,” says the hen-wife, “to pay me well for it, for the reason I prayed so on you concerns you much.” “What must I pay you?” asked the queen. “You must give me,” says she, “the full of a pack of wool: and I have an ancient crock which you must fill with butter; likewise a barrel which you must fill for me full of wheat.” “How much wool will it take to the pack?” says the queen. “It will take seven herds of sheep,” said she, “and their increase for seven years.” “How much butter will it take to fill your crock?” “Seven dairies,” said she, “and the increase for seven years.” “And how much will it take to fill the barrel you have?” says the queen. “It will take the increase of seven barrels of wheat for seven years.” “That is a great quantity,” says the queen, “but the reason must be extraordinary, and before I want it, I will give you all you demand.”’
The hen-wife acquaints the queen with the existence of the three sons, and giving her majesty an enchanted pack of cards, bids her to get the young men to play with her with these cards, and on their losing, to inflict upon them such a task as must infallibly end in their ruin. All young princes are set upon such tasks, and it is a sort of opening of the pantomime, before the tricks and activity begin. The queen went home, and ‘got speaking’ to the king ‘in regard of his children, and she broke it off to him in a very polite and engaging manner, so that he could see no muster or design in it.’ The king agreed to bring his sons to court, and at night, when the royal party ‘began to sport, and play at all kinds of diversions,’ the queen cunningly challenged the three princes to play cards. They lose, and she sends them in consequence to bring her back the Knight of the Glen’s wild steed of bells.
On their road (as wandering young princes, Indian or Irish, always do) they meet with the Black Thief of Sloan, who tells them what they must do. But they are caught in the attempt, and brought ‘into that dismal part of the palace where the Knight kept a furnace always boiling, in which he threw all offenders that ever came in his way, which in a few minutes would entirely consume them. “Audacious villains!” says the Knight of the Glen, “how dare you attempt so bold an action as to steal my steed? See now the reward of your folly: for your greater punishment, I will not boil you all together, but one after the other, so that he that survives may witness the dire afflictions of his unfortunate companions.” So saying, he ordered his servants to stir up the fire. “We will boil the eldest-looking of these young men first,” says he, “and so on to the last, which will be this old champion with the black cap. He seems to be the captain, and looks as if he had come through many toils.”—I was as near death once as this prince is yet,” says the Black Thief, “and escaped: and so will he too.” “No, you never were,” said the Knight, “for he is within two or three minutes of his latter end.” “But,” says the Black Thief, “I was within one moment of my death, and I am here yet.” “How was that?” says the Knight. “I would be glad to hear it, for it seems to be impossible.” “If you think, Sir Knight,” says the Black Thief, “that the danger I was in surpassed that of this young man, will you pardon him his crime?” “I will,” says the Knight, “so go on with your story.”
‘“I was, sir,” says he, “a very wild boy in my youth, and came through many distresses; once in particular, as I was on my rambling, I was benighted, and could find no lodging. At length I came to an old kiln, and being much fatigued, I went up and lay on the ribs. I had not been long there, when I saw three witches coming in with three bags of gold. Each put their bags of gold under their heads, as if to sleep. I heard the one say to the other, that if the Black Thief came on them while they slept, he would not leave them a penny. I found by their discourse that everybody had got my name into their mouth, though I kept silent as death during their discourse. At length they fell fast asleep, and then I stole softly down, and seeing some turf convenient, I placed one under each of their heads, and off I went with their gold, as fast as I could.