(690)
In the
Isles of Romance.
An Artist's
Visit to Inishmaan and Aranmore.
Written and Illustrated by THOMAS M. HEMY.
PART II.
A WEDDING.
One fine day we went to the chapel to see a wedding. The
priest from Aranmore was officiating. The chapel had a hard cement floor, and
there were no seats. The people were packed in like herrings, the men on one
side and the women on the other, and on such an event as a wedding the children
were also present.
There followed the usual ceremony - in
Gaelic, of course. This over, there was a wild rush for the door to see the
procession file out. The colours were brilliant and dazzling, and the united
ones - a handsome couple - looked supremely happy. Later on, about ten o'clock,
my friend suggested a visit to the wedding reception, as he knew the bridegroom
and was sure we would be welcome. We joined several straggling parties who were
wending their way through the darkness, down a terrible path between the usual
loose stone walls, cracks and boulders, to the house of the happy couple.
In due course we arrived. The people are sensitive and dignified, so
my friend, although very popular on the island, when we presented ourselves,
made profuse apologies for coming without an invitation. We were heartily
welcomed, and treated as honoured guests.
On entering the cottage we saw a most picturesque sight, and had
quite a novel experience. The ordinary cottage is divided into three rooms : the
centre one is the largest and has two doors opening alternatively, according to
the wind. There is a large open fire-place and sometimes a few pigs and fowls ;
but on this occasion they were absent, of course, or else this was one of the
houses where they were kept outside. At the ends of the big room were the
sleeping-rooms, one of which is always known as the "women's room."
The middle room was packed with some forty or fifty men and boys
sitting on forms, three legged stools, or squatting piled up on the floor. On
one of the forms sat as old white-haired, clean-shaven man who was chanting some
Gaelic traditional songs and sending the others into fits of laughter. The room
was lit up with a roaring turf-fire, on which were boiling several cauldrons of
water to supply a tremendous demand for mugs of tea.
The air was stifling, but nothing to what we experienced when shown
into the " women's room " in order to congratulate the handsome, well-set-up bridegroom and buxom laughing
bride, who, attired in their smart array, were holding a reception. They were
seated on the bridal couch, which was already groaning under the weight of about a (691) dozen bridesmaids with a few little girls filling in the corners ;
in fact, that side of the room was a fair pyramid of feminine beauty, with the
stolid and patient husband in the centre.
On entering the room we were conducted to chairs at the head of the
table, and the best cups were filled with tea and set before us. Beside us were
other men and also boys sitting on forms and drinking pannikins and mugs of the
same beverage, which was liberally dispensed. The other refreshments consisted
of a huge pile of freshly broken bread, which filled up the centre of the table,
and I was amazed to see the bright and happy faces of those enjoying this simple
fare. I mentally compared it with the often dreary performance of similar
functions in London where the cost had run into hundreds of pounds.
As the heat had now become stifling we refused a pressing invitation
to enter the men's room and left early. We heard after that the reception ended
about 3 A.M. The happy couple must have sat there enduring the heat and close
atmosphere for six or seven hours !
EMBARKING THE CATTLE.
The day broke bleak and drizzling with a steely grey mist
over everything. Before my eyes was a stretch of sand and shingle and sullen
sea. Towards the west side the island arose ghastly and forbidding. There was an
ever-present atmosphere of mystery about the surroundings. An aeroplanist,
swooping earthward, would wonder into what strange world he had dropped, for the
inhabitants of these islands are as much apart from the rest of the world as if
they were in mid-Atlantic. They give an impression as of the hand of time put back
some hundreds of years.
On this dull morning stretched along the shore were groups of
people, strange in costume, wild in aspect, crowded together in groups or
huddled up against each other for shelter and warmth. Here and there were men and
boys in the crouching attitude of the Arab, holding the reins of some
fine-looking steeds. It was an Eastern scene - the women in their brilliant
costumes, and the stately walk and dignified manner of all.
Cattle were to be seen in all directions ; and at the water's edge were several groups of curraghs. In one
of these boats sat, patiently, with an occasional visit from some sympathetic
friend, a poor woman, sick unto death, who was going to the hospital at Galway.
These people were waiting for the steamer to take them and the cattle to Galway
to another fair two days hence.
Hour after hour passed ; still the dreary mist and cold drizzle continued, and still the groups waited
patiently. Suddenly, a message arrived informing them that the steamer was
leaving the neighbouring island of Inishmeer, and immediately a transformation
occurred. Such scenes of dexterity, feats of strength, and cattle-taming amidst
a never-ending exchange of jokes and banter are not often witnessed on Britain's
shores.
The people at once prepared for the arrival of the boat. The
cattle had to be shipped, and it was a case of first catch your horse or cow -
they being in an almost wild state, many of them never previously having had a
halter round their necks. Now the children's enjoyment began, for every child on
the island joins in the fray.
The ponies were the first to fall victims. They were surrounded by darting figures, and rushed wildly about
in vain attempts to escape. Suddenly, one of the animals passed close to a man,
who immediately flung himself at (692) it, and grasped hold of its mane with one
hand and put the other round its neck, while he struggled to keep his own feet
off the ground and to throw all his weight on the animal. Its speed was
instantly checked and other men rushed up and hurled themselves on the poor
beast, bearing it to the ground, but not before its heels had been flying in all
directions. Once downed, it was held firmly whilst slings were passed round it,
carefully knotted to prevent their slipping off or tightening. Next a halter was
passed round its neck and then it was ready for the journey to the steamer,
there to be hauled on board with the aid of the sling. The same thing was going
on all around. Horses and cattle were being caught in all directions amidst the
shrill screams and laughter of the crowds, and the bellowing of the indignant
steers.
Presently the steamer loomed in the distance out of the fog and
anchored some little distance from the shore. The crowds of curraghs were
quickly launched from the beach. Then began the trouble of shipping the animals,
as they had to be floated behind the curraghs. The halter was thrown from one of
the animals to one of the four men manning each boat - three at the oars and one
at the stern - whose office was looking after the animals.
The men on shore now commenced their arduous task of persuading the
fear-stricken animals to commence their journey to Galway by slipping out into
Galway Bay. The poor beasts were nearly mad with fear. A tough struggle
took place, which finally ended in one of the men on shore wading up to his
armpits in water and giving a final push that set the animal afloat. Then came
into play the skill and strength of the man in the stern of the boat, chosen on
account of his dexterity in this particular feat. Up went the animal's forelegs
striking at the water, boat, man, or anything in the way. An exciting moment or
two ensued until the boatman caught the steer by its neck, placing the other hand
under its jowl, and pulled its head down on the stern-sheets of the curragh with
a vigorous twist. Over it went on its side, thus floating comfortably off to the
waiting vessel where the tackle was hooked on to the sling and the animal
hoisted on board.
The man in the stern's office is one of great danger, and requires
much strength and skill to prevent the animal from getting its head away - in
which case it would probably be drowned, as they might have to let go the line
and chance the horse or steer finding its way ashore.
Some of the horses which are sent away every summer to grass in
Connemara get quite use to this rough treatment, and, except for the natural
fear of the wild animals, there is no cruelty whatever. The climate of these
islands, it should be noted, is such that there is more and better grain to be
had in the winter than is the case on the mainland.
A FUNERAL.
One day I saw a funeral in the island - a ceremony
more weird and peculiar even than the wedding I have mentioned. It was the
funeral of one of the poorest men on the island ; he had been ailing for some
time, and the priest had come from Aranmore and administered the last rites. The
coffin came from Inishmeer, as there is no carpenter on the island.
Imagine an old sixth- or seventh-century chapel or oratory - roofless, windowless, and with
only one narrow door. Growing in the middle, and with its branches and leaves
emerging where the roof should be, is almost the only tree on the island. Around
this chapel is the graveyard, rankly overgrown with weeds and surrounded by a
wall built quite recently. This cemetery has formed (693) the burying-ground of
the people for hundreds of years. The gravestones are nearly all flat, and only
the more prosperous families have them. The mould is rich with the dust of
generations of islanders, and its depth can be measured in inches. Beneath it is
the hard rock.
Wild indeed are the surroundings : to the right the isle of
Inishmeer ; farther on, the cliffs of Clare and the Hills of Connemara ; in the
foreground naught but rocks and stones.
To see the funeral I was ensconced on a ledge of rock overlooking
the burial-ground, so that the presence of a stranger should not obtrude at such
a time. Presently, amongst the rocks bordering the sea the funeral procession
came into view ; men and women wending their way slowly and solemnly in and out
amongst the boulders by the path they themselves some day must travel.
Six men carried the coffin, by the three wooden bars lashed on it for this purpose, from the house of
mourning a mile and a half away. When nearing the cemetery, I noticed they they
did not come by the direct path, but diverged considerably to the left,
doubtless owing to some accident which may have occurred in former times, as the
rocks are so slippery and wet on the direct route. Relatives and friends followed
the procession in pairs.
On marched the coffin-bearers and laid down their burden within the
cemetery gates, and then occurred some of the most extraordinary episodes
it has ever been my lot to witness. Most of the people following the procession
made their way to the different gravestones and mounds and knelt at their own
family graves, praying, " keening," and wailing until all was ready for the
interment. It was a most pathetic sight ; sometimes a woman would bend over and
touch the grave with her hands as if the departed one were within her reach.
When the preparations were completed, the other people left their own dead and
gathered round the open grave ; the coffin was reverently lowered, the displaced
bones placed on the lid, and then the scanty soil to cover all. A girl, with
what I supposed to be holy water in a tin can, with a bunch of heather sprinkled
the grave, the coffin, and the assembled people. The villagers living near the
widow's cottage were saddened by her melancholy " keening " for many evenings after.
The sparkling, brilliant sunshine with the beautiful Connemara
Mountains and Hills of Clare in the distance, and the ferns and meadowsweet in
the near foreground, with the vivid reds of the women's clothes making a blaze
of colour, formed a terrible contrast between the Oriental brilliancy of the
scene and the awful pathos of it. What a mixture of barbarism and deep religious
feeling - and as a contrast there were youths leaning casually against the
chapel or lolling on the top of the walls, chatting and smoking as is nothing
were taking place, but at the final gathering they too took their place with
bared heads.
What a difference to the sombre Breton funeral that we have seen depicted - the falling rain, the sad
garments of the spectators, and the priests and choristers with banners and
crucifixes ! I Doubt if their ceremony is a tenth part as impressive as that of
the poor farmer fisherfolk of the Aran Isles burying their dead.
* * * * * *
* * *
My stay in this delightful island was a happy one
and one I left with regret. I spent a fortnight before my return to England in
Kilronan, the capital of Aranmore. It is not necessary to mention the twelve
chapels and the great Fort Dun Angus, and other antiquities of the place, as
they are all well known. The island is quite accessible and has a harbour, and
the old-world glamour is rapidly disappearing. You can hear last year's
music-hall ditties being whistled, and the gramophone is not absent. They have
all the usual evidences of civilisation - a police court, county court, hotels,
etc. and a few years ago an attempt was made to blow up the house of the parish
priest - proof positive that in due course they will be up to date in other
ways, and will require a larger prison and other improvements.
As winter was setting in I had to return. I had hoped to spend a
fortnight or so on the Atlantic in a trawler, but after wearing rope shoes, the
only possible footwear in Inishmaan, and getting continually wet through, the
flat, well-kept roads of Kilronan hurt my leg, and I could not get about and so
came straight home.
