Away with the fairies

By the time I tottered off to my room the hour was late, and I was rather feeling the various effects of

• more than two pints of cider
• a couple of hours of very vigorous dancing
• learning a couple of new songs from Mr.Nolan,

not having a timepiece with me I had no idea what time it was when I was shaken awake by Mr.Connelly, but as he yelled at me that the tavern was afire my nostrils confirmed the tang of smoke in the air. The decision to sleep in my long-tailed shirt meant that I didn't have to worry about decency in the midst of the emergency, but even as I was pulling my knee-britches on Mr.Connelly asked me to help him save the strongbox which held his wife's few items of jewellery, and most of the family's savings.
I should explain at this point that the tavern was built into the side of a steep hill, so the window of my upstairs room opened perhaps six feet above the ground level, and it was through my room that Mr.Connelly urged his two older children to make their escape, their terrified mother accompanying them with baby Sean held tightly in her arms.
In the Connelly's private apartment we took hold of a small wooden chest no more than eighteen inches in any dimension by my reckoning, with sturdy black iron handles. But for its small size it still proved surprisingly heavy. At some length, between the two of us we manhandled the chest out of the window and dropped it to the ground where I was almost certain it would burst, but the iron bands on the lid, and around the sides held it firm.
Mr.Connelly insisted that I should jump next, and that is where things began to get confused. I wasn't confident about jumping even such a short distance to the ground and was trying to pluck up courage, that much I remember clearly. But then I think I was pushed.
Whether I landed badly, I'm not sure, but I don't remember anything between hesitating in the window, and waking. The next morning, when I woke I was cold, stiff and still only partly dressed. And laying on the hay in the hayloft of the stables opposite the tavern. Of course, my first thought was to look for the Connellys and see how badly the tavern had been damaged, and that was when I got the biggest surprise.
The building itself showed no signs of fire, but searching around to the rear of the building, the window of the room which I had occupied was ajar, and while I was out there, Angus the apprentice and potboy came down the hill, carrying a basket of fresh eggs and whistling cheerfully.

"'tis a fine clear morning for the fresh sweet air, is it not?"
I asked Angus if anything ... had happened last night, and of course he wanted to know why I might think anything had. So I was obliged to recount most of my recollection of events to him.
His face took on a thoughtful expression: "Well, I would say it is possible, though some might disagree, that the fair folk played a trick on you last night."
After that, there was no stemming the tide of gossip from the pub and I left as soon as was decently possible, but not without a fair bit of good-natured mirth at my expense; Mr.Connelly was kind enough to reassure me that his family's wealth was quite secure. But what concerned me more were the few, mostly the womenfolk, who crossed themselves and lowered their gaze as I left the village.

Still in Ireland

some notes on the history of Irish dance
a tantalizing glimpse of the history of firefighting in Ireland
                   

The    written content of this work is licensed under a Creative    Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported License.       

Beltane Fire

When I last visited the Reverend Alleyn, I got the vaguest hint of a suspicion that there was more to the picture than I was seeing, and since my curiosity got the better of me I have gone back for a second look. I couldn't shake the feeling that Doctor Alleyn was perhaps unduly concerned with ensuring the security of his job as the vicar of the village of Bray in Berkshire, England, rather than the spiritual welfare of his charges. I admit that I should not have made a trip like this on my own, and in hindsight, I realize it was a mistake. There was nobody to back me up, to see what I saw, or failed to see.

I chose the persona of a travelling tinker, somebody whose unexpected appearance in the village would be unlikely to be questioned, somebody who could engage more or less anybody in conversation. During the first couple of days I mended kettles and cauldrons for David Boteler's wife who complained that her husband, the blacksmith, was too busy to mend his own family's pots (the shoemaker's children go unshod?), and Peter Cooper, the village reeve, whose wife Marjory proved to be something of a gossip. It was Marjory who showed me the first step on the trail that would lead me to the Beltane Hearth on the night of Saint Walpurga's feast.

To be honest, I had never heard of Saint Walpurga before, but of course, the Reverend Alleyn was good enough to enlighten me when I visited to offer my services. Born in Wessex, in the 8th century, she later helped to establish at least one German convent and is credited with powers of healing and fertility. While the Reverend has a couple of pots that need my attention, he regrets that he is unable to recompense me for my labours, which is fine by me, since I am happy to accept payment in the form of his intercession for my unsavoury soul.

It is one thing to know that the old religions persisted for a long time alongside the new, but it is quite another to see them, self-evident. It was the last day of April, the evening of my third day in the village, camped on the edge of a small coppice, when Peter Cooper, and another villager whom I didn't recognize, brought a couple of cartloads of kindling wood and faggots and stacked them in the meadow. As dusk turned to night I heard voices, as well as the bleating of sheep and squealing pigs, and kicked out my campfire moments before the leaders of the procession entered the meadow, carrying blazing torches as they drove the animals forward.

I'm not one hundred percent sure what happened after that, I think there may have been more than firewood in that fire, but I do remember the animals being driven towards the fire. The noise will stay with me for a long time. And figures, dancing naked. It's difficult to be certain, I'd drunk a pint and a half of cider earlier.

The sparks drifting from the fire put me in mind of fairies, but I didn't see any tiny flying people. And I was slightly relieved to note as I was packing the next morning, that there was no evidence of any of the animals having been eaten during the festivities.

However, I do have a memory of an old woman, squatting naked in the firelight, and something else... something very masculine! I don't think I'll ever be able to watch children dancing around a maypole again without thinking very adult thoughts!

I'm ashamed to say that I didn't make the connection until I got back here, but thinking about the old woman tripped another memory; a crude carving, high up on the roof beams of St. Michael's church, a female figure, in that same posture. It seems the figure is well-known to historical anthropologists as Sheila-na-gig.

The next morning I packed up and left as the dawn chorus started to settle down. I'm not used to drinking much and was still feeling the effects slightly, but I did manage to note that the fire in the meadow had been raked down and the grass showed plenty of bruising from a multitude of feet, so I know that at least some part of what I saw the night before really happened.

Another thing I found out after getting back here is that Beltane night is one of the two times in the year when, according to ancient Celtic belief, the boundaries between the physical world and the spiritual world are at their most easily passed. It was an interesting experience, and I have at least come back with an appropriate song from the time, but I have more questions than answers at this point.

X:51 % number
T:Now is the month of May
C:Thomas Morley
R:Air - madrigal
O:The TUMS busking book % origin.
M:2/2 % meter
L:1/4 % length of shortest note
Q: % tempo
K:C % key
V:1 % voice 1
z2 z G |: GGAA | B2 BG | B>A B ^c | d2 d A/B/ |
w:1.Now is the month of May-ing, when mer-ry lads are play-ing.
w:2.The Spring clad all in glad-ness, doth laugh at win-ter's sad-ness. Fa la
w:3.Fie! then why sit we mus-ing, youth's sweet de-light re-fus-ing?
ccBA | A^FD d/c/ | BcAA | [1 G2 z G :| [2 G2 z B
w:-------------- Now - Each
w:la la la la la la la, Fa la la, Fa la la la. 2.The la. 2.And
w:-------------- Fie - 3.Say
|:Add^c | d2 z A | ccBB | A2 z d/c/ |
w:with his bon-ny lass, up-on the green-y grass.
w:to the bag-pipes' sound, the nymphs tread out their ground. Fa la
w:dain-ty Nymphs and speak, shall we play bar-ley break?
BG d2 | D/E/^F/G/A/B/ c | B>c BA |[1 G2 z B:|
w:-------------- 1.Each
w:la la la, fa la la la la la la, fa la la la. 2.And la
w:-------------- 3.Say
[2 G2 z |]
V:2
z2 z D |: EGG^F | G2 GG | G>^F GG | ^F2 F =F/ F/ |
E>^F GG | ^F D/ E/ F F/ F/ | GGG ^F | G2 z D :| G2 z D |:
FA A>G | ^F2 z =F | EEEE | E2 A/ G/ ^F |
D G2 D/ E/ | ^F/ G/ A z E/ F/ | GGG ^F | G2 z D :| G2 z |]
V:3
K:C treble-8 % take out the treble-8 for compatibility with abc 1.6 standard
z2 z B |: cccc | d2 dd | d>d dG | d2 d d/ d/ |
Acde | A3 d/ d/ | d e d>c | B2 z B :| B2 z G |:
Afee | d2 z F | GABB | ^c =c/ B/ AA |
G>A BB | A A/ G/ ^F E | DG d>c | B2 z G :| B2 z |]

To convert the code above to sheet music, or listen to the tunes, copy the code for a single song, then paste it here and [submit].

Beltane Fire

When I last visited the Reverend Alleyn, I got the vaguest hint of a suspicion that there was more to the picture than I was seeing, and since my curiosity got the better of me I have gone back for a second look. I couldn't shake the feeling that Doctor Alleyn was perhaps unduly concerned with ensuring the security of his job as the vicar of the village of Bray in Berkshire, England, rather than the spiritual welfare of his charges. I admit that I should not have made a trip like this on my own, and in hindsight, I realize it was a mistake. There was nobody to back me up, to see what I saw, or failed to see.

I chose the persona of a travelling tinker, somebody whose unexpected appearance in the village would be unlikely to be questioned, somebody who could engage more or less anybody in conversation. During the first couple of days I mended kettles and cauldrons for David Boteler's wife who complained that her husband, the blacksmith, was too busy to mend his own family's pots (the shoemaker's children go unshod?), and Peter Cooper, the village reeve, whose wife Marjory proved to be something of a gossip. It was Marjory who showed me the first step on the trail that would lead me to the Beltane Hearth on the night of Saint Walpurga's feast.

To be honest, I had never heard of Saint Walpurga before, but of course, the Reverend Alleyn was good enough to enlighten me when I visited to offer my services. Born in Wessex, in the 8th century, she later helped to establish at least one German convent and is credited with powers of healing and fertility. While the Reverend has a couple of pots that need my attention, he regrets that he is unable to recompense me for my labours, which is fine by me, since I am happy to accept payment in the form of his intercession for my unsavoury soul.

It is one thing to know that the old religions persisted for a long time alongside the new, but it is quite another to see them, self-evident. It was the last day of April, the evening of my third day in the village, camped on the edge of a small coppice, when Peter Cooper, and another villager whom I didn't recognize, brought a couple of cartloads of kindling wood and faggots and stacked them in the meadow. As dusk turned to night I heard voices, as well as the bleating of sheep and squealing pigs, and kicked out my campfire moments before the leaders of the procession entered the meadow, carrying blazing torches as they drove the animals forward.

I'm not one hundred percent sure what happened after that, I think there may have been more than firewood in that fire, but I do remember the animals being driven towards the fire. The noise will stay with me for a long time. And figures, dancing naked. It's difficult to be certain, I'd drunk a pint and a half of cider earlier.

The sparks drifting from the fire put me in mind of fairies, but I didn't see any tiny flying people. And I was slightly relieved to note as I was packing the next morning, that there was no evidence of any of the animals having been eaten during the festivities.

However, I do have a memory of an old woman, squatting naked in the firelight, and something else... something very masculine! I don't think I'll ever be able to watch children dancing around a maypole again without thinking very adult thoughts!

I'm ashamed to say that I didn't make the connection until I got back here, but thinking about the old woman tripped another memory; a crude carving, high up on the roof beams of St. Michael's church, a female figure, in that same posture. It seems the figure is well-known to historical anthropologists as Sheila-na-gig.

The next morning I packed up and left as the dawn chorus started to settle down. I'm not used to drinking much and was still feeling the effects slightly, but I did manage to note that the fire in the meadow had been raked down and the grass showed plenty of bruising from a multitude of feet, so I know that at least some part of what I saw the night before really happened.

Another thing I found out after getting back here is that Beltane night is one of the two times in the year when, according to ancient Celtic belief, the boundaries between the physical world and the spiritual world are at their most easily passed. It was an interesting experience, and I have at least come back with an appropriate song from the time, but I have more questions than answers at this point.

X:51 % number T:Now is the month of May C:Thomas Morley R:Air - madrigal O:The TUMS busking book % origin. M:2/2 % meter L:1/4 % length of shortest note Q: % tempo K:C % key V:1 % voice 1 z2 z G |: GGAA | B2 BG | B>A B ^c | d2 d A/B/ | w:1.Now is the month of May-ing, when mer-ry lads are play-ing. w:2.The Spring clad all in glad-ness, doth laugh at win-ter's sad-ness. Fa la w:3.Fie! then why sit we mus-ing, youth's sweet de-light re-fus-ing? ccBA | A^FD d/c/ | BcAA | [1 G2 z G :| [2 G2 z B w:-------------- Now - Each w:la la la la la la la, Fa la la, Fa la la la. 2.The la. 2.And w:-------------- Fie - 3.Say |:Add^c | d2 z A | ccBB | A2 z d/c/ | w:with his bon-ny lass, up-on the green-y grass. w:to the bag-pipes' sound, the nymphs tread out their ground. Fa la w:dain-ty Nymphs and speak, shall we play bar-ley break? BG d2 | D/E/^F/G/A/B/ c | B>c BA |[1 G2 z B:| w:-------------- 1.Each w:la la la, fa la la la la la la, fa la la la. 2.And la w:-------------- 3.Say [2 G2 z |] V:2 z2 z D |: EGG^F | G2 GG | G>^F GG | ^F2 F =F/ F/ | E>^F GG | ^F D/ E/ F F/ F/ | GGG ^F | G2 z D :| G2 z D |: FA A>G | ^F2 z =F | EEEE | E2 A/ G/ ^F | D G2 D/ E/ | ^F/ G/ A z E/ F/ | GGG ^F | G2 z D :| G2 z |] V:3 K:C treble-8 % take out the treble-8 for compatibility with abc 1.6 standard z2 z B |: cccc | d2 dd | d>d dG | d2 d d/ d/ | Acde | A3 d/ d/ | d e d>c | B2 z B :| B2 z G |: Afee | d2 z F | GABB | ^c =c/ B/ AA | G>A BB | A A/ G/ ^F E | DG d>c | B2 z G :| B2 z |] To convert the code above to sheet music, or listen to the tunes, copy the code for a single song, then paste it here and [submit].