thady canavan's green field

Irish Jesuit Province

Thady Canavan's Green FieldAuthor(s): Thomas KellySource: The Irish Monthly, Vol. 44, No. 511 (Jan., 1916), pp. 17-24Published by: Irish Jesuit ProvinceStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20504546 .

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THADY CANAVAN'S GREEN FIELD

By THOMAS KEiLLY.

ORNEY CANAVAN leaped lithely from one springy grass-tuft to another as he hurried along the treacherous path that afforded a short cut across

Drumanure bog, from Canavanstown to the high road. The darkening day was wet and wintry, and gusty winds were drivin-g the soaking mists down the valley which afforded the one feasible line of communication between the isolated townland of Drumanure and the outer world.

Reaching the winding and ill-made road-ribbon, Corney hurried down it towards a house that stood a little way back from the highway, wherein lived his father's brother. On the way he met an old man who lived next-door.

" How is he ?' he asked quickly, with little breath to

spare. "Bad," answered the man, slowly and solemnly, ' bad, an' more like to be worse nor better."

" Oh! I was at the fair o' Doon to-day, an' only heard it

now from herself, an' she too donny to have come over. Was

the priest with him 9" " Yes, this mornin', an' the doctor. Your poor uncle is

as pale as a parsnip, an' as wa-ke as a week's goslin'. The

doctor ses it'll be touch an' go if he weathers it till day

light." " I suppose," Corney paused as if uncertain whether to

proceed or not, " I suppose there's no chance that they got

him to change the will ?" " No. I was there when the doctor mentioned it as soft as

you'd talk to an infant. 'Will,' ses poor Thady, 'Will,'

ses he, ' sure I have nothing to will. Look,' ses he, ' maybe

you'd have something to will to me?' An' the next minit

he was off talkin' to himself."

" So the ravin's on him agin 9""

VOL. XLIv.-No. 511. 2



18 THE IRISH MONTHLY

"Worse nor ever T he8rd him. Thinkin' he's killin' midges, an' that a spoon he does have in his hand is a sledge

hammer. I'm afraid as often as he near got to the top o' the

last great fence, he'll comiie downa on the other side o' it this

time, Lord help him !" " I'll be hurryin'," said CDorney, as he moved off.

It was neither the first nior the fifth tillme that old Thady Canavan had been despaired of by Doctor Foley, for, while bordering on five and seventy, he possessed a sound constitu tion, and though of late subject to periodical attacks, he had so far rallied at what had seenmed to the doctor as well as to

the neighbours, half-past the eleventh hour. His latest ill ness had come on suddenly. In the morning he had gone out to count his scanty stock of sheep, and mid-day found him in his box-bed " beyond the kitchen fire," looking verv

worn-out and endeavouring to slaughter imaginary aerial tormentors. He was still thus engaged at the momlent when

Corney entered the kitchen. " God save all here," said the nephew, as he stepped over

the threshold. No reply greeted him, as Mrs. Canavan was in the room,

and the living apartment was empty, save for the invalid.

Thady muttered as he. grasped an imaginary wasp: " Hun

dred an' twenty-nine. Ah! vou'd sting me, would you ?" and he made as if to punish his enemy with the spoon.

" How are you feelin' at all ?" queried Corney, gazing at

the old man who regarded him with no sign of recognition in his eyes.

"Look at that now," suddenly remarked the invalid, "he'd

sting me only I kilt him with the hammer." Then he stared

hard at Corney; " maybe you'd make a. will," he suggested,

" an' lave me something? Wantin' me grand, little green

field they were, to cut it into bits with a bridge an' a road

an' lave me nothin' at all for meself."

At this stage, Mrs. Canavan came into the kitchen and

began to explain the nature of her husband's illness to

Corney. "Softenin' in the brain, like, the doctor said it was, an

a sort o' stroke he got, the Lord between us an' harm, as

well. An' he buildin' a bit o' a gap was thrown to-dav !'



THADY CANAVAN'S GREEN FIELD 19

So ' herself' told me, but she has the rheiumatics so bad

she couldn't cross the steppin'-stoues, an' the plank was swep' away with the night befoie last's flood. That he mnay get

an aisy hour if it's God's will for him to go!7' "

Amen! He never looked so doine u) till to-day. After

the doctor canie he had half-an-hour's aise, an' I thought thatU

maybe he could get hint to agree to change the will. But

ne'er a budge cotild he wet from him, but the ravin' words.

D'youi knlow, Corniey, if he goes with that.will behind himl, an' the inijuncetions left on poor Shawnil, I'll iiever be able to

holdniiue head before the neighbours agin. If he's to go, IJt prayin' that he may get the knowledge to do w hat's righit before he laves us."

It's the pity o' the wvorld," said Thady's nephew, " that

he wasn't raisonabler than to see us all harrassed the way we

are for the sake o' a few perch o' land. I heard them say

the man froni the Boord was up yesterday again to see if the

bridge could be med. They'll have the road finiished to the

river edge before the month's end." Canavanstown is so called because of the surname of six

of the seven families who inhabit the little village. Tie

houses are built close together, in the angle between the

cluster of hills which stands between the bog of Drumanure

and the range of Benmuurray. Isolated, like many another

hamlet in Connaught, it is nearly three-quarters of a mile

from the road which intersects the bog. Bv the edge of the

latter nearest Canavanstown runs a river of considerable

dimensions over a wide and rugged course, and between the

river and the hamlet lies " Thady Canavan's green field."

It was green as contrasted with the brown of the surrounding

bog and hillslopes, for even in spring the grass of these latter

was never other than a reddish brown. The people of Cana

vanstown had no way of getting to the high road save by

means of the bog path already mentioned, and a row of

stepping-stones across the river rough-surfaced, slippery stones they were too, and when crossing them one had little

time for lingering. Still, it was surprising with what facility even the womnen negotiated the seemingly inmpossible pass age, though one wondered what would have happened if the

demon of fashion hlad foisted the hobble skirt of the days



2(0 THE IRISH MONTHLY

now passed on the village maidens ! In summer time the villagers fixed a plank across the stream, but it was not of so much use then as the river bed was almost dry, and the' first floods of winter usually swept it away-the force of the

waters as they roared down the valley being generally very great.

The Congested Districts Board, having acquired tha property which included Drumanure bog, proceeded, with a certain leisure which seems to mark the movements of most Government departments, with the making of a road for the' oonvenience of the Canavanstown folk. They had, however, no jurisdiction over the reclaimed and fertile field owned by Thady, and he stolidly refused to give permission for either the making of a road through his two acres or even the

widening of the 'right-of-way' across his land, already

Rossessed by the dwellers in the hamlet. It happened as) Thady's field was a sort of basin surrounded by hills which ran on each side at right angles to the river, there was no alternative to the making of the road through it-and he also firmly declined permission for the building of a bridge across the stream, one end of which must of necessity have rested on the edge of his field. Having been born in Canavans-. town, Thady knew intimately the inconvenience under which its residents always lived for want of even the roughest of roads, yet neither entreaty nor promise of compensation could prevail upon him to give leave for the making of even a narrow laneway.

The reclaiming of the two acres had been almost entirely his own doing, so it was assumed by the charitable that he had put so much of his life into the field that he felt dis figurement of it would almost mean a sort of laceration of

himself. Outsiders of course had other explanations of' Thady's lack of agreeableness in the matter of the bridge and road, the chief of which was the saying " as contrary as

a Canavan." A couple of months previous to his latest illness Thady had

made a will bequeathing the field to his only son, Shawn, on

the express condition that if the latter gave his permission to' the scheme for the making of the Canavanstown road the

field was to pass to an adjoining farmer, who was not even a;



THADY CASAVAN'S GREEN FIELD 1

near relative of the family. And, though a solicitor who had been consulted by Shawn had stated that the absurd con dition would never hold in a court of law, still nobody in the place would wish to have the road into Canavanstown necessi tate the disregarding of one of the conditions of a will however unjust that condition might have been. They looked upon a will as a wish of the dying, and a wish of the

-dying should not be lightly disregarded. It isn't the road or the bridge be themselves so much,"

cominented Mrs. Canavan, " though sure if it took twenty times as much land for them he shouldn't refuse it, an' he

reared in the townland an' all. But it's the shame o' it before the parish. Can't anyone in the village o' Canavans

town point to me an' say: ' Only for her man we'd have the

dry step under our foot to our very doors this day an' many's

-the long day ago, an' not have to be strugglin' over a few

slippery stones o' a wet evenin' with our little wants from the town.' An' sure everything they say a wife wants she can make her husband do. With the compensation offered him, there'll be them not slow to say that there's somle sort

o' spite at the back o' it. c

Oh, but sure we all know there's no matter o' spite in it,"

put in Corney, " nothin' but a sort o' crooked contrariness

mixed up with the thinkin' o' how he laboured to make the

best land within five imiile o' itself o' that samiie field. With

all the loads o' clay he carried on his back to it, it's just as

if his lifeblood was in the lalnd, an' didn't he ever an' always

think more o' the ' green field' than o' all the others he has

near the house here ?" " He did, Corney, but I often wish the landlord bet him

that time in the coorts when they couldn't get the field on

no map at all, an' it to be gev be the judge that 'twas Thady's

owna an' he with n1o rent to pay for it from that day to this.

Look," she finished, pointing towards the bed, " he's think

in' there's flies at him agin." The old man tossed feebly iii his bed, mlaking weak blows

at imaginary insects. Then, after a little, he went into a

fitful and uneasy sleep. " I suppose a few o' the neighbours will be sittin' up with

you to mind him to-night?" queried the nephew.



22) THE IRISH MONTHLY

They will, though the doctor said 'twill be aisy to do

the mindin', for that he'll be as quiet as a pet lamb an' will

just slip off in his sleep without knowin' anything at all.

Barney's Nancy is coming as soon as she puts the youngsters to bed, ant' Molly Ruadh should be here anv iniit now."

He's quiet," came from Corney, who was gazing at the

placid features of the old muanI. " He's sleepin' grand an'

caln, so I'll slip across an' fodder the cattle, an' be back in

tine to say mne decade o' the Rosary for him-i along with ye.

It's no use talkin' about the bridge or the road any more,

there's onily one road for him, I'm afraid. An' a prayer is

the only thing to miiake it smooth for him now.'

In a little over an hour Corney was back again, to find

four of the neighbouring women gathered together to sit up with Mary Canavan and watch through the night by the sick

man. One of them uttered a little cry of surprise on seeing

that Corney was soaking wet to above his knees, as a result

of missing his foothold on one of the stepping-stones in the dark. But he made little of the mishap, and in a few

minutes was enveloped in the clouds of steami caused by the

drying of his soaking garmnents before the fire.

Old Tlhady Canavan slept peacefully till daylight-as much

to the surprise as the relief of those present. With the com

ing of the dawn the women slipped away quietly to their

homes, and Corney also deemed it as well to go home for a

few hours' sleep. As he was about to step out of the house,

he was arrested by an exclamation fromii his uncle. "

Houl' me, houl' me, Mary," shouted the old mma, "houl'

me or I'll be drowned ! "

Mrs. Canavan rushed to the bedside, and between herself

and Corney they soon quieted the dreamer. " What was on you at all, Thady, alanna ?" she questioned

him, when he had become calmer. "

Oh ! " said the patient, putting his hand to his chin, " T

kem agini the stoines, an' I found the blood pumping out o'

me chin-an' I sort o' feel it still !" " Was it a dramiie, or a sort o' nightmare ?" asked Corney. " Yes," answered his uncle, " an' a worse nor ever I heard

the tellin' of. Mary," he continued, looking at his wife with.



THADY CANAVAN'S GREEN FIELD 23

the light of a sudden resolve in his eyes, "will you bring me down the will ?"

" Yes, asthore, to be sure," answered the woman, going up to the room. She soon discovered the document at the bottom of the old trunk where all the family valuables were stored, and returned with it to the kitchen. She found her husband now sitting up in the bed. " You look a dale better to-day, Thady," she remnarked, ' how do you feel yourself now ?"

" Nicely, thank God." He took the will out of its en velope and handed it to his nephew; " open it out, Corney,

will you, and read it for me?"

The will was on a double sheet of foolscap, in the best handwritin:g of Mr. Molloy, the schoolmaster, and turned out to be a rather lengthy and involved document. Corney read the first page, turned to the second, and proceeded:

" But in the event of my son, the aforementioned Shawn Canavan, allowing or consenting to the construction of the bridge and road already referred to, then absolute possession of the said green field will pass to Owen Canavan, Senior, or to his eldest son in the event of his prior demise. Further,

whereas. " "

Stop !" called Thady, " that'll do." He reached out his

hand for the will, and when he had got it he tore it very

deliberately in two. " Put themii in the fire, Will you?" he

sai&E to his wife. As the paper blazed up he settled himself

in the bed. " That's what the drame does, when I hadn't

the plain sense before," he jerked out. " Obstinateness is a

quare thing, the way it can blind a person." " An' what were you dramin' o', asthore?" queried his

wife. ' I dramed-wait till I see-oh, yes, I draimed I was goin'

over to the green field, an' just when I got to the steppin'

stones, didn't I see the two calves I put in it the week before

last an' they hornin' one another as cross as cats. So I

hurried oni to stop them, an', o-oh! I slipped an' into the

flood with met!" He put his hand to his chin again. " I

can near feel the pain in it yet where me chin hit agin a

stone. . . . "

There was sileince in the kitchen for a little: the rays of a



24 THE IRISH MONTHLY

wintry sun shone on the polished tinware hanging by the

wall. The old mnan raised himself on his elbow. "Corney,' he called softly, " will you give word to the Boord men to begin makin' the bridge an' the road through the green field

as wide as they want, an' as soon as they like ?"

I will," answered the nephew, " an' God bless vou."

Three days later, Thady Canavan finished the building of the gap which he had begun to repair on the day he was taken

ill; by the beginning of the following week the construction of the bridge had been started, anad simultaneously, what

looked at first like a wide drain was opened through the

middle of the " green field," from the bridge to the village of Canavanstown.

The work progressed quickly and from the laying of the foundation-stone was known as " Thady's Bridge." The new structure was finished about the middle of December, and on the day of- its completion, the liveliest of the crowd that

had gathered upo-n it was Thady Canavan. He wouldn't hear of thanks for his concession, declaring that it was as much benefit to himself as to anybody else.

A week afterwards, as Thady was on his way to pay a visit

to his friends in Canavanstown, he met Corney on the bridge. They both stopped to examine it once more. "Man, oh, man," declared Thady, " It's the fine piece o work all out.

An' look at all I gain be it. A bridge called after me, an'

if I had a green field before haven't I got two green fields now? Ah, them steppin'-stones was an unnatural sort o' way for crossin' a river, an' sure I was as sorry as could be

when 'herself' told me o' the wettin' you got that night

comin' across to sit up with me. Well, you won't slip off

this bridge, anyway."



thady canavan's green field

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