“Who’s that? It’s someone pretending to be me,” Moran replied.
“Go away, you terrible person! You’re the one pretending to be me. Aren’t you afraid that the heavens will punish you for making fun of a poor blind man?”
“Oh my goodness, is there no protection against this? You’re a very cruel person trying to take away my honest means of living,” poor Moran replied.
“And you, you terrible person, won’t let me continue with the beautiful poem. Kind people, please help me and chase this man away. He’s taking advantage of my blindness.”
The pretender thanked the people for their sympathy and protection, and went on with the poem,
Moran listened in silence for a while. After some time, Moran protested again, saying:
“Don’t any of you recognize me? Can’t you see that it’s me, and that’s someone else?”
“Before I continue with this wonderful story,” the pretender interrupted, “I ask you to donate money to help me keep going.”
“Don’t you have a soul to save, you mocker of heaven?” cried Moran, completely overwhelmed by this latest insult. “Are you trying to rob the poor and deceive the world? Oh, has such wickedness ever been seen before?”
“I’ll leave it up to you, my friends,” said the pretender, “to give money to the real blind man that you all know so well and save me from that trickster[130].” He collected some money while doing so. Meanwhile, Moran started reciting his poem “Mary of Egypt,” but the angry crowd grabbed his stick and were about to hit him when they were once again confused by his striking resemblance[131] to himself. The pretender then called on them “grab that villain and I’ll show you who the imposter is!” They brought him over to Moran, but instead of fighting him, he gave Moran a few shillings and turned to the crowd, explaining that he was just an actor who had won a bet. He left in a great excitement to enjoy the meal he had earned.
In April 1846, the priest received news that Michael Moran was dying. He found him at 15 Patrick Street, lying on bed in a room filled with street singers who had come to cheer him in his final moments. The funeral took place the following day. Some of his admirers and friends joined the hearse with the coffin, as it was a wet and unpleasant day. Not long into the journey, one of them exclaimed, “It’s terribly cold, isn’t it?” “Indeed,” replied another, “we’ll all be as stiff as the corpse[132] when we reach the cemetery.” “Curse him,” said a third, “I wish he had lasted another month when the weather would have been better.”
REGINA, REGINA PIGMEORUM, VENI[133]
One night, a man in his middle age, a young girl who has the ability to see strange lights in the fields among the cows, and me, were walking on a beach in the far west. We were talking about the Forgetful People, who are sometimes called the fairies people, and we came across a cave among black rocks where they always gather. I asked the young girl if she could see anything. She stood still for a few minutes, and I noticed that she entered a kind of trance. Then I called out the names of the great fairies, and after a moment, she said she could hear music coming from inside the rocks. She also heard people talking and applauding someone unseen[134]. Now my friend came closer and suddenly said that we were going to be interrupted because he heard children laughing somewhere beyond the rocks. However, we were completely alone. The spirits of the place had started to affect him as well. In a moment, the girl confirmed what he said. She then saw a bright light coming out of the cave. She saw a group of small people, wearing different colored clothes, mostly red, dancing to a tune she didn’t recognize.
Then I told her to call the queen of the little people to come and talk to us. However, no one responded to her. So, I repeated the words myself, and suddenly a very beautiful tall woman came out of the cave. By that time, I had also entered a kind of trance. Then I told the girl to ask the queen to gather her followers so that we could see them. I had to repeat the command myself. The creatures then came out of the cave and lined up in four groups, if I remember correctly. One of the groups held branches in their hands, while others wore necklaces made of snake scales[135] I can’t remember their clothes because I was completely captivated[136] by the beautiful woman. I asked her to tell the seer[137] if these caves were the most important fairies places in the area. No, this was not the greatest fairies place, there was a bigger one a little further ahead. Then I asked if it was true that they took away mortals and replaced their souls. “We change the bodies,” was her answer. I asked if any of them were ever born as humans. “Yes.” “Do I know anyone were among your people before birth?” “You do.” “Who are they?” “You are not allowed to know.” I asked her other questions about her nature and her purpose in the universe, but it seemed to confuse her. Finally, she seemed to lose patience and wrote a message for me on the visionary sands, not the sandy ground we were standing on: “Be careful and don’t try to know too much about us.” Realizing that I had offended[138] her, I thanked her and let her return to her cave. After a while, the young girl woke up from her trance, felt the cold wind of the world again, and began to shiver.
I will tell you these things as accurately as I can, without any theories to confuse the story. Theories are not very good, and most of mine have disappeared a long time ago. I love better than any theory the sound of the Ivory Gate opening, and I believe that only those who have crossed the rose-covered threshold can catch a glimpse of the distant shine of the Horn Gate[139]. It might be good for all of us to raise the same cry as Lilly the astrologer did in Windsor Forest, “Regina, Regina Pigmeorum, Veni,” and remember with it that God visits His children in dreams. Beautiful tall queen, come closer, and let me see the shadowy beauty of your hair once more.
“AND FAIR, FIERCE WOMEN”
One day, a woman I know, had met a beautiful woman. The woman was standing by the window, looking towards Knocknarea, where Queen Maive is buried. She saw, as she told me, “the most stunning[140] woman traveling from the mountain straight towards her.” The woman had a sword by her side and a raised dagger in her hand. She was dressed in white, with bare arms and feet. The old woman covered her eyes with her hands, and when she uncovered them, the beautiful woman was gone. The neighbors thought it was Queen Maive, who often reveals herself to the locals. The other day, a friend of mine questioned an old woman in a Galway workhouse about Queen Maive and was told that “Queen Maive was beautiful and defeated all her enemies with a stick, as the hazel stick[141] is blessed and the best weapon one can have. You could travel the world with it.” However, the old woman said that Queen Maive became “very disagreeable in the end – oh, very disagreeable. It’s best not