THE LAST GLEEMAN
Michael Moran was born about 1794 off Black Pitts, in the Liberties of Dublin, in Faddle Alley1. A fortnight after birth he went stone blind from illness, and became thereby2 a blessing3 to his parents, who were soon able to send him to rhyme and beg at street corners and at the bridges over the Liffey. They may well have wished that their quiver were full of such as he, for, free from the interruption of sight, his mind became a perfect echoing chamber4, where every movement of the day and every change of public passion whispered itself into rhyme or quaint5 saying. By the time he had grown to manhood he was the admitted rector of all the ballad6-mongers of the Liberties. Madden, the weaver7, Kearney, the blind fiddler from Wicklow, Martin from Meath, M'Bride from heaven knows where, and that M'Grane, who in after days, when the true Moran was no more, strutted8 in borrowed plumes9, or rather in borrowed rags, and gave out that there had never been any Moran but himself, and many another, did homage10 before him, and held him chief of all their tribe. Nor despite his blindness did he find any difficulty in getting a wife, but rather was able to pick and choose, for he was just that mixture of ragamuffin and of genius which is dear to the heart of woman, who, perhaps because she is wholly conventional herself, loves the unexpected, the crooked11, the bewildering. Nor did he lack, despite his rags, many excellent things, for it is remembered that he ever loved caper12 sauce, going so far indeed in his honest indignation at its absence upon one occasion as to fling a leg of mutton at his wife. He was not, however, much to look at, with his coarse frieze14 coat with its cape13 and scalloped edge, his old corduroy trousers and great brogues, and his stout15 stick made fast to his wrist by a thong16 of leather: and he would have been a woeful shock to the gleeman MacConglinne, could that friend of kings have beheld17 him in prophetic vision from the pillar stone at Cork18. And yet though the short cloak and the leather wallet were no more, he was a true gleeman, being alike poet, jester, and newsman of the people. In the morning when he had finished his breakfast, his wife or some neighbour would read the newspaper to him, and read on and on until he interrupted with, "That'll do--I have me meditations19"; and from these meditations would come the day's store of jest and rhyme. He had the whole Middle Ages under his frieze coat.
He had not, however, MacConglinne's hatred20 of the Church and clergy21, for when the fruit of his meditations did not ripen22 well, or when the crowd called for something more solid, he would recite or sing a metrical tale or ballad of saint or martyr23 or of Biblical adventure. He would stand at a street comer, and when a crowd had gathered would begin in some such fashion as follows (I copy the record of one who knew him)--"Gather round me, boys, gather round me. Boys, am I standin' in puddle24? am I standin' in wet?" Thereon several boys would cry, "Ali, no! yez not! yer in a nice dry place. Go on with St. Mary; go on with Moses"--each calling for his favourite tale. Then Moran, with a suspicious wriggle25 of his body and a clutch at his rags, would burst out with "All me buzzim friends are turned backbiters"; and after a final "If yez don't drop your coddin' and diversion I'll lave some of yez a case," by way of warning to the boys, begin his recitation, or perhaps still delay, to ask, "Is there a crowd round me now? Any blackguard heretic around me?" The best-known of his religious tales was St. Mary of Egypt, a long poem of exceeding solemnity, condensed from the much longer work of a certain Bishop27 Coyle. It told how a fast woman of Egypt, Mary by name, followed pilgrims to Jerusalem for no good purpose, and then, turning penitent28 on finding herself withheld29 from entering the Temple by supernatural interference, fled to the desert and spent the remainder of her life in solitary30 penance31. When at last she was at the point of death, God sent Bishop Zozimus to hear her confession32, give her the last sacrament, and with the help of a lion, whom He sent also, dig her grave. The poem has the intolerable cadence33 of the eighteenth century, but was so popular and so often called for that Moran was soon nicknamed Zozimus, and by that name is he remembered. He had also a poem of his own called Moses, which went a little nearer poetry without going very near. But he could ill brook34 solemnity, and before long parodied35 his own verses in the following ragamuffin fashion:
In Egypt's land, contagious36 to the Nile,
King Pharaoh's daughter went to bathe in style.
She tuk her dip, then walked unto the land,
To dry her royal pelt37 she ran along the strand38.
A bulrush tripped her, whereupon she saw
A smiling babby in a wad o' straw.
She tuk it up, and said with accents mild,
"'Tare-and-agers, girls, which av yez owns the child?"
His humorous rhymes were, however, more often quips and cranks at the expense of his contemporaries. It was his delight, for instance, to remind a certain shoemaker, noted39 alike for display of wealth and for personal uncleanness, of his inconsiderable origin in a song of which but the first stanza40 has come down to us:
At the dirty end of Dirty Lane,
Liv'd a dirty cobbler, Dick Maclane;
His wife was in the old king's reign42
A stout brave orange-woman.
On Essex Bridge she strained her throat,
And six-a-penny was her note.
But Dickey wore a bran-new coat,
He got among the yeomen.
He was a bigot, like his clan41,
And in the streets he wildly sang,
O Roly, toly, toly raid, with his old jade43.
He had troubles of divers26 kinds, and numerous interlopers to face and put down. Once an officious peeler arrested him as a vagabond, but was triumphantly44 routed amid the laughter of the court, when Moran reminded his worship of the precedent45 set by Homer, who was also, he declared, a poet, and a blind man, and a beggarman. He had to face a more serious difficulty as his fame grew. Various imitators started up upon all sides. A certain actor, for instance, made as many guineas as Moran did shillings by mimicking46 his sayings and his songs and his getup upon the stage. One night this actor was at supper with some friends, when dispute arose as to whether his mimicry47 was overdone48 or not. It was agreed to settle it by an appeal to the mob. A forty-shilling supper at a famous coffeehouse was to be the wager49. The actor took up his station at Essex Bridge, a great haunt of Moran's, and soon gathered a small crowd. He had scarce got through "In Egypt's land, contagious to the Nile," when Moran himself came up, followed by another crowd. The crowds met in great excitement and laughter. "Good Christians," cried the pretender, "is it possible that any man would mock the poor dark man like that?"
"Who's that? It's some imposhterer," replied Moran.
"Begone, you wretch51! it's you'ze the imposhterer. Don't you fear the light of heaven being struck from your eyes for mocking the poor dark man?"
"Saints and angels, is there no protection against this? You're a most inhuman-blaguard to try to deprive me of my honest bread this way," replied poor Moran.
"And you, you wretch, won't let me go on with the beautiful poem. Christian50 people, in your charity won't you beat this man away? he's taking advantage of my darkness."
The pretender, seeing that he was having the best of it, thanked the people for their sympathy and protection, and went on with the poem, Moran listening for a time in bewildered silence. After a while Moran protested again with:
"Is it possible that none of yez can know me? Don't yez see it's myself; and that's some one else?"
"Before I can proceed any further in this lovely story," interrupted the pretender, "I call on yez to contribute your charitable donations to help me to go on."
"Have you no sowl to be saved, you mocker of heaven?" cried Moran, Put completely beside himself by this last injury--"Would you rob the poor as well as desave the world? O, was ever such wickedness known?"
"I leave it to yourselves, my friends," said the pretender, "to give to the real dark man, that you all know so well, and save me from that schemer," and with that he collected some pennies and half-pence. While he was doing so, Moran started his Mary of Egypt, but the indignant crowd seizing his stick were about to belabour him, when they fell back bewildered anew by his close resemblance to himself. The pretender now called to them to "just give him a grip of that villain52, and he'd soon let him know who the imposhterer was!" They led him over to Moran, but instead of closing with him he thrust a few shillings into his hand, and turning to the crowd explained to them he was indeed but an actor, and that he had just gained a wager, and so departed amid much enthusiasm, to eat the supper he had won.
In April 1846 word was sent to the priest that Michael Moran was dying. He found him at 15 (now 14 1/2) Patrick Street, on a straw bed, in a room full of ragged53 ballad-singers come to cheer his last moments. After his death the ballad-singers, with many fiddles54 and the like, came again and gave him a fine wake, each adding to the merriment whatever he knew in the way of rann, tale, old saw, or quaint rhyme. He had had his day, had said his prayers and made his confession, and why should they not give him a hearty55 send-off? The funeral took place the next day. A good party of his admirers and friends got into the hearse with the coffin56, for the day was wet and nasty. They had not gone far when one of them burst out with "It's cruel cowld, isn't it?" "Garra'," replied another, "we'll all be as stiff as the corpse57 when we get to the berrin-ground." "Bad cess to him," said a third; "I wish he'd held out another month until the weather got dacent." A man called Carroll thereupon produced a half-pint of whiskey, and they all drank to the soul of the departed. Unhappily, however, the hearse was over-weighted, and they had not reached the cemetery58 before the spring broke, and the bottle with it.
Moran must have felt strange and out of place in that other kingdom he was entering, perhaps while his friends were drinking in his honour. Let us hope that some kindly59 middle region was found for him, where he can call dishevelled angels about him with some new and more rhythmical60 form of his old
Gather round me, boys, will yez
Gather round me?
And hear what I have to say
Before ould Salley brings me
My bread and jug61 of tay;
and fling outrageous62 quips and cranks at cherubim and seraphim63. Perhaps he may have found and gathered, ragamuffin though he be, the Lily of High Truth, the Rose of Far-sought Beauty, for whose lack so many of the writers of Ireland, whether famous or forgotten, have been futile64 as the blown froth upon the shore.
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1
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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weaver
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| n.织布工；编织者 | |
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strutted
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| 趾高气扬地走，高视阔步( strut的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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caper
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| v.雀跃，欢蹦；n.雀跃，跳跃；续随子，刺山柑花蕾；嬉戏 | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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frieze
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| n.(墙上的)横饰带，雕带 | |
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thong
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| n.皮带；皮鞭；v.装皮带 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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21
clergy
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| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
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22
ripen
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| vt.使成熟；vi.成熟 | |
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martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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24
puddle
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| n.(雨)水坑，泥潭 | |
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wriggle
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| v./n.蠕动，扭动；蜿蜒 | |
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26
divers
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| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
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27
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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28
penitent
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| adj.后悔的；n.后悔者；忏悔者 | |
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29
withheld
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| withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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30
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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31
penance
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| n.（赎罪的）惩罪 | |
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32
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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33
cadence
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| n.（说话声调的）抑扬顿挫 | |
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34
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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35
parodied
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| v.滑稽地模仿，拙劣地模仿( parody的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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36
contagious
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| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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37
pelt
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| v.投掷，剥皮，抨击，开火 | |
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38
strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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39
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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40
stanza
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| n.（诗）节，段 | |
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41
clan
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| n.氏族，部落，宗族，家族，宗派 | |
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42
reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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43
jade
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| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
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44
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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45
precedent
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| n.先例，前例；惯例；adj.在前的，在先的 | |
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46
mimicking
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| v.（尤指为了逗乐而）模仿( mimic的现在分词 )；酷似 | |
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47
mimicry
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| n.（生物）拟态，模仿 | |
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48
overdone
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| v.做得过分( overdo的过去分词 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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49
wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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50
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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51
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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52
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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54
fiddles
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| n.小提琴( fiddle的名词复数 )；欺诈；（需要运用手指功夫的）细巧活动；当第二把手v.伪造( fiddle的第三人称单数 )；篡改；骗取；修理或稍作改动 | |
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55
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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60
rhythmical
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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61
jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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outrageous
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| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
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63
seraphim
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| n.六翼天使(seraph的复数)；六翼天使( seraph的名词复数 ) | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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