To put him up.—to put him in gaol. ↩
Carton and half-carton.—Thady means cartron, and half-cartron. “According to the old record in the black book of Dublin, a cantred is said to contain thirty villatas terras, which are also called ‘quarters’ of land [quarterons, cartrons]; every one of which quarters must contain so much ground as will pasture four hundred cows, and seventeen ‘plough-lands.’ A knight’s fee was composed of eight ‘hides,’ which amount to one hundred and sixty acres, and that is generally deemed about a ‘plough-land.’ ”
The Editor was favoured by a learned friend with the above extract, from a MS. of Lord Totness’s in the Lambeth library. ↩
My little potatoes.—Thady does not mean by this expression that his potatoes were less than other people’s, or less than the usual size—“little” is here used only as an Italian diminutive, expressive of fondness. ↩
Kith and kin.—Family or relations. “Kin” from “kind”; “kith” from we know not what. ↩
Wigs were formerly used instead of brooms in Ireland for sweeping or dusting tables, stairs, etc. The Editor doubted the fact till he saw a labourer of the old school sweep down a flight of stairs with his wig; he afterwards put it on his head again with the utmost composure, and said, “Oh, please your honour, it’s never a bit the worse.”
It must be acknowledged that these men are not in any danger of catching cold by taking off their wigs occasionally, because they usually have fine crops of hair growing under their wigs. The wigs are often yellow, and the hair which appears from beneath them black; the wigs are usually too small, and are raised up by the hair beneath, or by the ears of the wearers. ↩
Wake.—A wake in England means a festival held upon the anniversary of the saint of the parish. At these wakes, rustic games, rustic conviviality, and rustic courtship, are pursued with all the ardour and all the appetite which accompany such pleasures as occur but seldom. In Ireland a wake is a midnight meeting, held professedly for the indulgence of holy sorrow, but usually it is converted into orgies of unholy joy. When an Irish man or woman of the lower order dies, the straw which composed the bed, whether it has been contained in a bag to form a mattress, or simply spread upon the earthen floor, is immediately taken out of the house, and burned before the cabin door, the family at the same time setting up the death howl. The ears and eyes of the neighbours being thus alarmed, they flock to the house of the deceased, and by their vociferous sympathy excite and at the same time soothe the sorrows of the family.
It is curious to observe how good and bad are mingled in human institutions. In countries which were thinly inhabited, this custom prevented private attempts against the lives of individuals, and formed a kind of coroner’s inquest upon the body which had recently expired, and burning the straw upon which the sick man lay became a simple preservative against infection. At night the dead body is waked, that is to say, all the friends and neighbours of the deceased collect in a barn or stable, where the corpse is laid upon some boards, or an unhinged door, supported upon stools, the face exposed, the rest of the body covered with a white sheet. Round the body are stuck in brass candlesticks, which have been borrowed perhaps at five miles’ distance, as many candles as the poor person can beg or borrow, observing always to have an odd number. Pipes and tobacco are first distributed, and then, according to the “ability” of the deceased, cakes and ale, and sometimes whiskey, are “dealt” to the company:
“Deal on, deal on, my merry men all,
Deal on your cakes and your wine,
For whatever is dealt at her funeral today
Shall be dealt tomorrow at mine.”
After a fit of universal sorrow, and the comfort of a universal dram, the scandal of the neighbourhood, as in higher circles, occupies the company. The young lads and lasses romp with one another, and when the fathers and mothers are at last overcome with sleep and whiskey (vino et somno), the youth become more enterprising, and are frequently successful. It is said, that more matches are made at wakes than at weddings. ↩
Shebeen-house.—a hedge-alehouse. “Shebeen” properly means weak small-beer, taplash. ↩
At the coronation of one of our monarchs the King complained of the confusion which happened in the procession. The great officer who presided told his Majesty, “That it should not be so next time.” ↩
Kilt.—This word frequently occurs in the preceding pages, where it means not “killed,” but much hurt. In Ireland, not only cowards, but the brave “die many times before their death.”—There “killing is no murder.” ↩
Kilt and smashed.—Our author is not here guilty of an anticlimax. The mere English reader, from a similarity of sound between the words “kilt” and “killed,” might be induced to suppose that their meanings are similar, yet they are not by any means in Ireland synonymous terms. Thus you may hear a man exclaim, “I’m kilt and murdered!” but he frequently means only that he has received a black eye, or a slight contusion.—“I’m kilt all over” means that he is in a worse state than being simply “kilt.” Thus, “I’m kilt with the cold” is nothing to “I’m kilt all
