The following is another great story about the black pig that was collected by Mario Corrigan, who has been a great help in writing this book. It tells the tale of how a Kildare shepherd called Bartle Dunnigan was looking after his flock on the Curragh one winter. The place was covered in thick snow and Dunnigan was relaxing and puffing on his pipe when he heard his dog barking like mad. He reckoned that one of his sheep must have got stuck in the snow, so he went to rescue it. To his amazement, when he arrived at the place where the dog was barking, he did not find a sheep but a little man with his head stuck in the mound of snow, legs kicking in all directions. Dunnigan looked at the creature in astonishment, wondering what he was doing and how he had not caught his death of cold in such wild conditions. The little man freed himself from the pile of snow, wiped his face with a red handkerchief and stated that is was hot work indeed looking for Bartle Dunnigan, and how it was that he had not found him until now. Dunnigan replied that he had never known the strange little man and he must have mistaken him for someone else. But it was odd that he did know his name. The tiny man said that he had important business to conduct with Dunnigan and the poor shepherd wondered what sort of business he could possibly have with him.
The strange little man said that before he could disclose the nature of the business he would like a blast of Dunnigan’s pipe. He took a good drag and commented on the quality of the tobacco. He then spoke about people in Dunnigan’s life from a long time ago when he was a boy. He then told Bartle that the reason he had his head in the snow was a penance he had to do as a result of a misdeed. He explained that he would have to do it for five hours every three days before Christmas for all eternity. Old Bartle was frightened by this and stood back, stating that the little man must be a right devil. The man told him it was of no importance what sins he had committed, for he was paying for them now and he told Dunnigan about other poor souls who had far worse penance than he had and they were harmless enough creatures.
He then explained that his penance was for a wrong he had done to Dunnigan’s great-grandfather. You see, he had intended to buy a suckling pig from Bartle’s great-grandfather on a fair day. But when the grandfather had his back turned the man made off with the pig without paying for it. Everyone related to Bartle’s great-grandfather was dead now, except Bartle himself. So he had to apologise to Bartle before it was too late, because once Bartle was gone there was no one else left to make amends with and then he would be cursed for eternity.
So Bartle saw this as a great opportunity to make a few bob from this wide boy. And he told him that the price of pigs had gone up a lot since his great-grandfather was about. The little man smiled and told him that he could not give him any money but he could give him back the pig the same way he had found it all those years ago. He told him to come to the same spot tomorrow and poke the furze bush he was standing beside with a stick and the pig would walk out. And then he stated that they would be quits and he could relax in the next life. But then he grabbed Bartle and warned him not to speak a word of any of this to a mortal soul or tell where he got the pig from or he would do something terrible to him. He shook his fist at Bartle to make his point and then disappeared.
So the next morning Bartle got up bright and early and made his way to the furze bush, making sure no one was about to witness anything. He had a spancil to tie the pig and a stick to poke the furze. He prodded at the bush but there was no pig. He was about to give up and with one last attempt he called the pig and sure enough it called back with three grunts. He was calling away when he heard a voice asking him what was he doing and who he was calling out to? He looked around and standing there was Jack Joyce a local lad. ‘Oh! Nothing,’ replied Bartle in the most calm way he could manage, so as not to blow his cover. Joyce asked him then why was he prodding the furze for the last hour and Bartle had to think on his feet. He replied that he thought he saw a weasel run into the bush and he was trying to scare him out.
With this the pig snorted loudly three times and Joyce stated that it must be a queer weasel indeed. So Joyce offered to help. With that the pig, a fine specimen too, bolted out of the bush and the two boys went running after it. Bartle tripped on some thistles and Joyce grabbed at the pig, thinking it was his now. Bartle was not happy that this little brat was trying to take his property. The pig wriggled free but then stopped to turn up the grass with his nose and Bartle saw this as his chance. But Joyce ran at it and the pig was off again. The pig ran inside the house of a Mrs Donegan and the two boys came running after it. Mrs Donegan closed the door and stood at the threshold. The two boys started protesting, both saying that the pig was theirs but Mrs Donegan stated no one would get the beast until she knew the identity of the rightful owner.
It just so happened that two policemen came along the road and Mrs Donegan was sure this would solve the argument. The sergeant and his comrade took the two lads to the courthouse to settle the matter but the judge stated it was too late and it would have to be tomorrow. In the meantime, he wanted four constables guarding the house with the pig in it.
Word of the dispute spread and when the judge took his seat the next day the courthouse was packed with excited people. Dunnigan was feeling bad and he did not know what to say, for he remembered what the little man had said to him and how he had threatened to do something terrible to him if he said where he had got the pig. To say he found him in the furze meant that Joyce had as much right to him as he did. It was a tough station for Bartle. When the court proceeded, the judge asked Bartle if the pig was his and he agreed it was and the judge asked if he had any witnesses to prove his ownership of the beast. Bartle told the judge that he got the pig from a man he had never met or seen before and did not know him in any way and the man was now gone for good. The judge remarked on how odd this was.
The judge then turned to Joyce and asked him the same question. Joyce claimed the pig as his own, and stated that he bought it fair and square from a widow woman. The judge said that if he could produce this widow woman then the case would be closed and the pig was his. Joyce then went on to say that the widow was an orphan with no family, as they had all met gruesome deaths by misfortune and wild beasts and she had since left for Australia. So there were no witnesses from Joyce either. The judge stated that this was a most remarkable case. He adjourned the court for lunch and there was great excitement indeed.
The case dragged on and the judge was not happy and jury members had to leave to attend to chores and responsibilities. Then the judge stood up and demanded that Bartle be removed from the court.
And when poor Bartle was escorted out, sure that he had lost, the judge turned to Joyce and asked him what was the gender of his pig, male or female. Well Joyce stated that it was a sow, a female. Before Joyce had a chance to say another word he was silenced and Bartle was called back in. As soon as he stepped in the door the judge asked him the same question. What gender was the pig?
He thought hard for he did not know and the judge became very angry with him. But then he figured the little man would have taken a hog for its breeding possibilities.
So he told the judge it was male. Joyce then protested and tried to change his story but the judge silenced him. He then stated that he and some lawmen would go to the house and look at the pig. He then lowered his voice and said that there had been some terrible time-wasting and misuse of the law this day and whoever he found out was lying would pay dearly for their misconduct.
The judge set off for the house of Mrs Donegan and all the people from the courthouse followed him. There was great tension and the judge called for Bartle and Joyce to come with him inside the house. Poor Bartle thought he was done for, facing hanging or thinking that he might be sent to the Cannibal Islands. The woman of the house said the pig was gone and the police said they heard it grunting outside but could not find it. The judge was fit to send the two boys for ten years to the Cannibal Islands, but in the end he was lenient and let them off on the First Offenders Act.
When i
t was all over Bartle headed for home, when all of a sudden he heard someone whistle at him. It was the tiny man who had appeared to him and got him into all this trouble in the first place. Bartle was furious for the little man was singing away, oblivious to the heartache he had inflicted on him. Bartle went at him with his stick but the little man dodged him and said, ‘I want to have a straight chat with ye!’ The little man told him he had tried to do him a good turn and told him to say nothing, but instead Bartle had the whole county up in arms. He picked up a snowball and threw it at Bartle, hitting him right between the eyes and almost knocked him out. Bartle then went home and had a hot drink or two to calm his nerves and he tried to tell his wife of his troubles, but she just smiled at him. Ah, the women are a hard bunch to make any understanding of a man’s predicaments.
The next day a hollow could be seen where the pig had gone and this was known from then on as the Black Pig’s Run. And it is said that every seven years since that day, on the Wednesday night before Christmas, at the stroke of midnight, a black pig can be seen racing along with a tiny man on its back, riding for all he is worth. And that is how the Race of the Black Pig on the Curragh of Kildare got its name. Sin é an scéal.
5
SAINT BRIGID
Saint Brigid is the patron saint of Kildare and her symbol is the Saint Brigid’s Cross, which appears on the County Kildare crest. Her colour is white and this is the colour worn by the Kildare Gaelic football team and why they are fondly known as the Lily-Whites. Saint Brigid is said to have built the first church in Kildare. It was built out of oak and Kildare translated into Irish is Cill Dara, meaning Church of the Oak.
What is really interesting about her character is that she was a pagan goddess before she became a saint and her story as a saint overlaps with a lot of pagan ideals and symbolism. Many of the Saint Brigid’s wells around Ireland were originally pagan wells, like the Trinity Well outside Carbury in Kildare. Whether you see her as a saint or a pagan deity, she certainly is the stuff of great folklore.
The name Brigid was originally that of a Celtic goddess meaning the ‘The Exalted One’, and, like her cross, she made a smooth transition from pagan goddess to Christian saint. She was venerated all over Ireland and, according to legend, was the daughter of Daghda who was a Celtic tribal father-god and the chief to the Tuatha De Danann, who were to become what is more commonly known as ‘The Fairies’. He had great magical ability and was extremely powerful.
Other sources suggest that she was born in AD 443 and died in AD 524 and that her father, Dubhthach, was a pagan chieftain of Leinster and her mother, Brocca, a Christian Pict and slave, who was baptised by Saint Patrick.
Even as a saint, Brigid still possessed all of her mighty godlike powers and she used them well to do her work. She was born in a druid’s household and was suckled on the milk from magical cows. When she was older she was able to produce endless quantities of food and produce milk from cows that would have been considered dry. She was always heavily associated with both fertility and animals. She had healing powers and was very compassionate to children and the vulnerable. She also had a great love of music, poetry and the arts.
Her first small church in Kildare town became a centre of religion and learning and the town developed into a cathedral city. She also founded a school of art that specialised in metalwork and illuminated texts. From here was produced The Book of Kildare, but it disappeared around the time of the Reformation. It was considered to be as beautiful, if not more, than The Book of Kells, which can still be seen in Trinity College Dublin today.
There are many wonderful tales surrounding Saint Brigid and here are a few that I have collected, including a series of short stories from Patrick Kennedy, Lord Walter Fitzgerald of the Kildare Archaeological Society Journal.
SAINT BRIGID’S CROSS
The story we were always told about how the cross came to be was based on a tale where Saint Brigid was called to the home of a great Celtic chieftain (there is speculation that it may have been her own father Dubhthach) who was dying. Word was sent to Brigid that she was to go to the deathbed of a pagan chieftain who was full of fear at the prospect of not going to heaven – this wonderful place that he had heard so much about. Brigid did not waste any time and made her way to his abode, where all his servants and warriors were gathered around. When the chieftain saw her, he reached out his hand and asked her to tell him of this man they called Christ and what he had to offer. She told him the story of Our Lord and how he died upon the cross for our sins. The old king was impressed that a man would give up his own life to save the souls of his fellow men and he wanted to be united with a god that would put others before himself.
He had never seen a cross before and said that it would be good to have a full understanding of what it was before he was willing to accept it into what was left of his life. Brigid realised that in her haste she had brought no crucifix with her and then the thought occurred to her that she could make one for him. The mattress that the old man was lying upon was made of rushes, so she grabbed a handful of them and carefully wove a delicate cross from them and presented it to the old king. She then blessed him and baptised him with water and then held his hand as he slipped away.
To this day Saint Brigid’s crosses are made all over Ireland, especially by children for Saint Brigid’s Day on 1 February. They adorn many houses in Ireland and America, being considered by many as being a very significant symbol of Ireland’s transition from paganism to Christianity. They are supposed to protect homes from fire and evil spirits and bring happiness to a household.
SAINT BRIGID’S CLOAK
The King of Leinster was not a particularly generous man, and Saint Brigid found it difficult to make him contribute in a respectable fashion to her many charities. One day, when he proved more than usually irritated, she at last said, ‘Well, at least grant me as much land as I can cover with my cloak.’ To silence her persistent begging he agreed to her request.
They were, at the time, standing on the highest point of ground on the Curragh, and she directed four of her sisters to spread out her cloak. Accordingly they took up the garment, but instead of laying it flat on the turf, each virgin, with face turned to a different point of the compass, began to run swiftly, the cloth expanding in all directions. Other pious ladies, as the border enlarged, seized portions of it to preserve something of a circular shape, and the elastic extension continued till the breadth was a mile at least. ‘Oh, Saint Brigid!’ said the frightened king, ‘what are you about?’
‘I am, or rather my cloak is, about to cover your whole province to punish you for your stinginess to the poor.’
‘Oh, come, come, this won’t do. Call your maidens back. I will give you a decent plot of ground and be more liberal in the future.’
Thus, Saint Brigid gained as much land as she needed to build her monastery. The king and his count were both dismayed and amazed and the king, realising she was blessed by God, became a patron of her monastery, assisting her with money and provisions.
SAINT BRIGID AND THE HARPS
It was not in the nature of things that a Celtic saint should despise music or poetry. Saint Brigid, being once on a journey, sought hospitality for herself and her sisters in the house of a petty king. This king and his chief officers, including his harpers, were absent, but some of his sons did all that religious reverence and a hospitable spirit could devise for the suitable reception of their honoured guests. After a frugal meal the hosts and guests continued an interesting conversation, during which Brigid, observing the harps suspended on the wall, requested the princes to indulge her with some of the ancient melodies of the country. ‘Alas, honoured lady!’ said the eldest, ‘our father and the bard are absent, as we have mentioned, and neither my brothers nor myself have practised the art. However, bless our fingers, and we will do all in our power to gratify you.’ She touched their fingers with the tips of her own, saying some prayers in a low voice and when the young men sat down to play the inst
ruments, they drew from them such sweet and powerful melody as was never before heard in that hall. So enthralling was the music that it seemed as if they could never tire of playing, nor their audience of listening. While the performance was still proceeding the king and his suite entered the large hall and were amazed at hearing sweet and skilful strains from the untaught fingers of the princes. Recognising the saint and her ladies, their wonder ceased.
RATHBRIDE AND THE WART STONE
It is said that the ends of Saint Brigid’s lands were marked with four large crosses – in other words there were crosses at the four corners of the Curragh. There are no crosses left standing today, but there is a large stone at Rathbride (Brigid’s Rath or Rath Bhríde) Cross on the Kildare to Milltown road. It is said that this is the base of an old Christian cross and indeed may have been the base of one of the fabled crosses that marked out Brigid’s territory. The stone is rough on top and water gathers in the holes and hollows and locals believed that this stone had miraculous powers. If you suffered from warts then you placed the afflicted area (usually the hand) into the water gathered on top of the stone and you would be cured. I’m sure people would also take the water and apply it to other areas also. This stone is still known as The Wart Stone.
LOUGHMINANE OR LOCH LEAMNACHTA
One day, eighteen bishops came to visit Kildare and Brigid and her nuns had to cater for their needs. Brigid asked her cook Blaithnait if there was enough milk, but Blaithnait said there wasn’t as she had already milked the cows. Brigid fell to her knees in prayer and an angel appeared and told her to milk the cows again. When they milked the cows, the milk filled all the tubs they had brought and it is said they could have filled all the vessels in Leinster. The milk spilled over the tops of the vessels and created a loch or lake, which forever after was known as Loch Leamnachta or ‘lake of the new milk’.
Kildare Folk Tales Page 5
