Yeats' FAIRY AND FOLK
TALES OF THE IRISH PEASANTRY
A QUEEN'S COUNTY WITCH1
It was about eighty years ago,
in the month of May, that a Roman Catholic
clergyman, near Rathdowney, in the Queen's County, was awakened at midnight to
attend a dying man in a distant part of the parish. The priest obeyed without a
murmur, and having performed his duty to the expiring sinner, saw him depart
this world before he left the cabin. As it was yet dark, the man who had called
on the priest offered to accompany him home, but he refused, and set forward on
his journey alone. The grey dawn began to appear over the hills. The good priest
was highly enraptured with the beauty of the scene, and rode on, now gazing
intently at every surrounding object, and again cutting with his whip at the
bats and big beautiful night-flies which flitted ever and anon from hedge to
hedge across his lonely way. Thus engaged, he journeyed on slowly, until the
nearer approach of sunrise began to render objects completely discernible, when
he dismounted from his horse, and slipping his arm out of the rein, and drawing
forth his "Breviary" from his pocket, he commenced reading his "morning office"
as he walked leisurely along.
He had not proceeded very far, when he observed his horse, a very spirited
animal, endeavouring to stop on the road, and gazing intently into a field on
one side of the way where there were three or four cows grazing. However, he did
not pay any particular attention to this circumstance, but went on a little
farther, when the horse suddenly plunged with great violence, and endeavoured to
break away by force. The priest with great difficulty succeeded in restraining
him, and, looking at him more closely, observed him shaking from head to foot,
and sweating profusely. He now stood calmly, and refused to move from where he
was, nor could threats or entreaty induce him to proceed. The father was greatly
astonished, but recollecting to have often heard of horses labouring under
affright being induced to go by blindfolding them, he took out his
handkerchief and tied it across his eyes.
He then mounted, and, striking him gently, he went forward without reluctance,
but still sweating and trembling violently. They had not gone far, when they
arrived opposite a narrow path or bridle-way, flanked at either side by a tall,
thick hedge, which led from the high road to the field where the cows were
grazing. The priest happened by chance to look into the lane, and saw a
spectacle which made the blood curdle in his veins. It was the legs of a man
from the hips downwards, without head or body, trotting up the avenue at a smart
pace. The good father was very much alarmed, but, being a man of strong nerve,
he resolved, come what might, to stand, and be further acquainted with this
singular spectre. He accordingly stood, and so did the headless apparition, as
if afraid to approach him. The priest observing this, pulled back a little from
the entrance of the avenue, and the phantom again resumed its progress. It soon
arrived on the road, and the priest now had sufficient opportunity to view it
minutely. It wore yellow buckskin breeches, tightly fastened at the knees with
green ribbon; it had neither shoes nor stockings on, and its legs were covered
with long, red hairs, and all full. of wet, blood, and clay, apparently
contracted in its progress through the thorny hedges. The priest, although very
much alarmed, felt eager to examine the phantom, and for this purpose summoned
all his philosophy to enable him to speak to it. The ghost was now a little
ahead, pursuing its march at its usual brisk trot, and the priest urged on his
horse speedily until he came up with it, and thus addressed it--
"Hilloa, friend! who art thou, or whither art thou going so early?"
The hideous spectre made no reply, but uttered a fierce and superhuman growl,
"A fine morning for ghosts to wander abroad," again said the priest.
Another "Umph" was the reply.
"Why don't you speak?"
"You don't seem disposed to be very loquacious this morning."
The good man began to feel irritated at the obstinate silence of his
unearthly visitor, and said, with some warmth--
"In the name of all that's sacred, I command you to answer me, Who art thou,
or where art thou travelling?"
Another "Umph", more loud and more angry than before, was the only reply.
"Perhaps," said the father, "a taste of whipcord might render you a little
more communicative"; and so saying, he struck the apparition a heavy blow with
his whip on the breech.
The phantom uttered a wild and unearthly yell, and fell forward on the road,
and what was the priest's astonishment when he perceived the whole place running
over with milk. He was struck dumb with amazement; the prostrate phantom still
continued to eject vast quantities of milk from every part; the priest's head
swam, his eyes got dizzy; a stupor came all over him for some minutes, and on
his recovering, the frightful spectre had vanished, and in its stead he found
stretched on the road, and half drowned in milk, the form of Sarah Kennedy, an
old woman of the neighbourhood, who had been long notorious in that district for
her witchcraft and superstitious practices, and it was now discovered that she
had, by infernal aid, assumed that monstrous shape, and was employed that
morning in sucking the cows of the village. Had a volcano burst forth at his
feet, he could not be more astonished; he gazed awhile in silent amazement--the
old woman groaning, and writhing convulsively.
"Sarah," said he, at length, "I have long admonished you to repent of your
evil ways, but you were deaf to my entreaties; and now, wretched woman, you are
surprised in the midst of your crimes."
"Oh, father, father," shouted the unfortunate woman, "can you do nothing to
save me? I am lost; hell is open for me, and legions of devils surround me this
moment, waiting to carry my soul to perdition."
"Me priest had not power to reply; the old wretch's pains increased; her body
swelled to an immense size; her eyes flashed as if on fire, her face was black
as night, her entire form writhed in a thousand different contortions; her
outcries were appalling, her face sunk, her eyes closed, and in a few minutes
she expired in the most exquisite tortures.
The priest departed homewards, and called at the next cabin to give notice of
the strange circumstances. The remains of Sarah Kennedy were removed to her
cabin, situate at the edge of a small wood at a little distance. She had long
been a resident in that neighbourhood, but still she was a stranger, and came
there no one knew from whence. She had no relation in that country but one
daughter, now advanced in years, who resided with her. She kept one cow, but
sold more butter, it was said, than any farmer in the parish, and it was
generally suspected that she acquired it by devilish agency, as she never made a
secret of being intimately acquainted with sorcery and fairyism. She professed
the Roman Catholic religion, but never complied with the practices enjoined by
that church, and her remains were denied Christian sepulture, and were buried in
a sand-pit near her own cabin.
On the evening of her burial. the villagers assembled and burned her cabin to
the earth. Her daughter made her escape, and never after returned.
1. Dublin University Magazine, 1839.