THE history of Morty Sullivan ought to be
a warning to all young men to stay at home, and to live decently and soberly
if they can, and not to go roving about the world. Morty, when he had just
turned of fourteen, ran away from his father and mother, who were a mighty
respectable old couple, and many and many a tear they shed on his account.
It is said they both died heartbroken for his loss: all they ever learned
about him was that he went on board of a ship bound to America.
Thirty years after the old couple had been laid
peacefully in their graves, there came a stranger to Beerhaven enquiring after
them - it was their son Morty; and, to speak the truth of him, his heart did
seem full of sorrow when he heard that his parents were dead and gone ; -
but what else could he expect to hear? Repentance generally comes when it
is too late.
Morty Sullivan, however, as an atonement for his
sins, was recommended to perform a pilgrimage to the blessed chapel of Saint
Gobnate, which is in a wild place called Ballyvourney.
This he readily undertook; and willing to lose
no time, commenced his journey the same afternoon. He had not proceeded many
miles before the evening came on: there was no moon, and the starlight was
obscured by a thick fog, which ascended from the valleys. His way was through
a mountainous country, with many cross-paths and by-ways, so that it was difficult
for a stranger like Morty to travel without a guide. He was anxious to reach
his destination, and exerted himself to do so; but the fog grew thicker and
thicker, and at last he became doubtful if the track he was in led to the
blessed chapel of Saint Gobnate. But seeing a light which he imagined not
to be far off, he went towards it, and when he thought himself close to it
the light suddenly seemed at a great distance, twinkling dimly through the
fog. Though Morty felt some surprise at this he was not disheartened, for
he thought that it was a light sent by the holy Saint Gobnate to guide his
feet through the mountains to her chapel.
And thus did he travel for many a mile, continually,
as he believed, approaching the light, which would suddenly start off to a
great distance. At length he came so close as to perceive that the light came
from a fire; seated beside which be plainly saw an old woman ;- then, indeed,
his faith was a little shaken, and much did he wonder that both the fire and
the old woman should travel before him, so many weary miles, and over such
uneven roads.
"In the holy names of the pious .Gobnate, and of
her preceptor Saint Abban," said Morty, "how that burning fire move on so
fast before me, who can that old woman be sitting beside the moving fire?"
These words had no sooner passed Morty's lips than
he found himself, without taking another step, close to this wonderful fire,
beside which the old woman was sitting munching her supper. With every wag
of the old woman's jaw her eyes would roll fiercely upon Morty, as if she
was angry at being disturbed; and he saw with more astonishment than ever
that her eyes were neither black, nor blue, nor gray, nor hazel, like the
human eye, but of a wild red colour, like the eye of a ferret. If before he
wondered at the fire, much greater was his wonder at the old woman's' appearance;
and stout-hearted as he was, he could not but look upon her with fear - judging,
and judging rightly, that it was for no good purpose her supping in so unfrequented
a place, and at so late an hour, for it was near midnight. She said not one
word, but munched and munched away, while Morty looked at her in silence.
- " What's your name?" at last demanded the old hag, a sulphurous puff coming
out of her mouth, her nostrils distending, and her eyes growing redder than
ever, when she had finished her question.
Plucking up all hjs courage, "Morty Sullivan,"
replied he, "at your service;" meaning the latter words only in civility
."Ubbubbo !" said the old woman,
"we'll soon see that;" and the red fire of her eyes turned into a pale green
colour. Bold and fearless as Morty was, yet much did he tremble at hearing
this dreadful exclamation: he would have fallen down on his knees and prayed
to Saint Gobnate, or any other saint, for he was not particular; but he was
so petrified with horror, that he could not move in the slightest way, much
less go down on his knees.
"Take hold of my hand, Morty," said the old woman:
"I'll give you a horse to ride that will soon carry you to your journey's
end." So saying, she led the way, the fire going before them ; - it is beyond
mortal knowledge' to say how, but on it went, shooting out bright tongues
of flame, and flickering fiercely.
Presently they came to a natural cavern in the
side of the mountain, and the old hag called aloud in a most discordant voice
for her horse! In a moment a jet-black steed started from its gloomy stable,
the rocky floor whereof rung with a sepulchral echo to the clanging hoofs.
"Mount, Morty, mount !" cried she, seizing him
with supernatural strength, and forcing him upon the back of the horse. Morty
finding human power of no avail, muttered, " O that I had spurs!" and tried
to grasp the horse's mane; but he caught at a shadow; it nevertheless bore
him up and bounded forward with him; now springing down a fearful precipice,
now clearing the rugged bed of a torrent, and rushing like the dark midnight
storm' through the mountains.
The following morning Morty Sullivan was discovered
by some pilgrims (who came that way after taking their rounds at Gougane Barra)
lying on the flat of his back, under a steep cliff, down which he had been
flung by the Phooka. Morty was severely bruised by the fall, and he is said
to have sworn on the spot, by the hand of O'Sullivan (and that is no small
oath ["Nulla manus, Tam liberalis, Atque generalis, Atque universalis,
Quam Suilivanis."] ), never again to take a full quart bottle of whisky
with him on a pilgrimage.
Source : Thomas Crofton Croker,
"Fairy Legends and Traditions", Chapter XIV, 1825