Transcript

Bhí fear isna Déise fadó gurbh ainm dó Pilib an Chleite. Sé an chúis a deirtí ar thugadh an ainm sin air ná ná raibh sé peann crua ná luaidh le fáilt an uair úd ar fuaid na tíre. Séard a bhíodh acu le scríobh ná cleití do gheibhtí ó sciatháin na ngéann agus a chuirtí i gcóir le scian rabh ghéar chun iad a chur i gcóir chun scríobh.

Bhí Pilib ana-thabhartha do chaitheamh aimsire is do caitheamh airgid. Nach[1] bhíodh uireasa(n) airgid go minic air agus ar an ábhar san do bhíodh sé go dubhach dobrónach. Ag machnamh dó ar an gcuma san oíche do bhuail duine éigin fé ná raibh aon aithne aige[2] Pilib air. Dh'fhiafraigh sé dhe cad (a) bhí ag caitheamh air.

"Tá a fhios agam," ar sé sin, "ná fuil tú ró-... ró-luachmhar it aigne agus go bhfuil uireasa airgid ort."

"Dé mhaith dhomhsa dh'insint duitse," arsa Pilib, "cad athá a dh'imirt orm."

"B'fhéidir," arsa an fear, "go mbeadh maith dhuit ann mar a thabharfainnse do chuid dhóthain airgid duit chun é a chaitheamh in gach aon tslí ar mhaith leat é ar do chairde agus ar do dhaoine muinteartha. Agus," ar sé sin, "nach ar aon choinníoll amháin. Nín[3] aon choinníoll ann ach go dtiocfaidh tú liomsa i gceann trí bliana déag," ar (sé) sin, "síos go dtí an áit athá i gcóir agam duit."

"Tá go maith," arsa Pilib, "nach an bhfuil aon choinníoll eile ann?"

"Nín," arsa an fear.

"B'fhéidir," arsa Pilib, ar sé sin, "go dtabharfá coinníoll domhsa?"

"Cad é sin?" ar sé sin.

"Go gcuirfeá áit fé leith i gcóir dom ansan thíos a bheadh i gcóir dom nuair a raghad ann."

"Déanfad san," arsa an tÁibhirseoir, mar is é a bhí ann.

B'fhada le Pilib tar éis na gcoinníoll a chomhlíonadh go dtáinig an mhaidean air. Agus do dh'éirigh sé go tráthúil ar maidin. Chuir sé a lámh ina phóca éachaint an mbeadh an t-airgead ann do shíl a bheadh agus do bhí.

Agus nuair a fuair Pilib an t-airgead do dh'imigh sé go lúcháireach agus do ghlaoigh sé chuige a chuid comrádaithe agus do chuadar ag caitheamh an airgid go lúcháireach agus go sóch ar fuaid an bhaile.

Do lean Pilib ar an gcuma san ag caitheamh an airgid go raibh lán leis na trí... go raibh dhá bhliain déag des na trí cinn déag caite aige, nuair a tháinig an tÁibhirseoir ansan a chur in iúl dó go raibh an téarma lán le bheith caitithe agus nárbh fhada go (mb)eadh[4] air dul síos.

"Tá go maith," arsa Pilib, ar sé sin, "nach nín an téarma caite fós."

"Nín," arsa an fear eile.

"Bhfuil áit úd a gheall tú dhom i gcóir agat thíos?" arsa Pilib.

"Tá," ar sé sin.

"Ba mhaith liom é dh'fheiscint," arsa Pilib.

"Tá go maith," ar sé sin. "Siúil leat síos."

"Raghad," arsa (...) an fear eile, ar sé sin. "Síos leat."

Do chuadar síos agus nuair a chuadar go dtí an urlár ba ísle thíos do spáin an tÁibhirseoir an cúinne dhó san áit a raibh an áit i gcóir (do dho)[5] Philip.

"Ba mhaith liom go n-osclófá an doras," arsa Pilib, "go bhfeicinn cad athá istigh."

"Ní bhfaighinn san a dhéanamh dhuit," arsaigh an fear, (ar sé), "nó bainfead an eochair as an nglas agus gheobhaidh tú féachaint trí pholl na heochrach."

"Tá go maith," arsa Pilib. "Déin sin."

Do dhein amhlaidh. Agus nuair a bhain sé an eochair as an doras do chuir Pilib a shúil ar pholl na heochrach agus do dhódh an tsúil 'na cheann.

"Dar so súd!" arsa Pilib, ar sé sin, "Thá san te! Agus le l(...) más te an áit," ar sé sin, "nín an téarma caite fós agus is é mo thuairim go raghad suas éachaint cad athá thuas," ar sé sin. "B'fhéidir go bhfuil sé níos fearr ná mar athá anso agus slán agat," ar sé sin leis an Diabhal, "go gcasam arís."

Translation

There was a man in the Decies long ago called Philip of the Feather. The reason it is said he was given that name is that there were no hard pens and no lead to be found at that time throughout the country. What they used for writing were feathers they used to get from the wings of geese and that were fashioned using a sharp knife (?) so that they could be used for writing.

Philip was very given to amusements and spending money. He used to want for money often and for that reason he used to be gloomy and sorrowful. While he was brooding like that one night somebody Philip didn't know at all came in to him. He asked him what was bothering him.

"I know," he said, "that you are not very valuable (rich?) in your own mind and that you want for money."

"What use is it for me to tell you," said Philip, "what is bothering me."

"Perhaps," said the man, "it would be of use to you because I might give you plenty of money to spend however you like on your friends and family. And," he said, "on one condition only. The only condition is that you come with me in thirteen years' time," said he, "down to the place I have ready for you."

"Very well," said Philip, "but is there any other condition?"

"No," said the man.

"Perhaps," said Philip, said he, "you would give me a condition?"

"What is that?" said he.

"That you would have a particular place ready for me down there that would be ready for me when I go there."

"I will do that," said the Devil, for it was him.

After agreeing on the conditions Philip couldn't wait until morning. And he got up early in the morning. He put his hand in his pocket to see if the money he expected to be there was there and it was.

And when Philip got the money he went off joyfully and he called his companions to him and they went off spending the money joyfully and happily all over the town.

Philip went on like this spending the money until nearly thirteen... until twelve of the thirteen years were up, and the Devil came then to inform him that the time was nearly up and that he would soon have to go down.

"Very well," said Philip, said he, "but the time isn't up yet."

"No," said the other man.

"Is that place you promised me ready for me below?" said Philip.

"Yes," said he.

"I would like to see it," said Philip.

"Very well," he said. "Walk on down."

"I will," said the other man, he said. "Down you go."

They went down and when they got to the lowest floor the Devil showed him the part of the place where the spot he was keeping ready for Philip was.

"I would like you to open the door," said Philip, "so that I might see what's inside."

"I couldn't do that for you," said the man, said he (?), "but I will take the key from the lock and you will be able to look through the keyhole."

"Very well," said Philip. "Do that."

He did it. And when he took the key from the door Philip put his eye to the keyhole and the eye was burned right in his head.

"Goodness!" said Philip, said he, "That's hot! And with ... (?) if it is a hot place," said he, "the time isn't up yet and I believe I'll go up to see what's above," he said. "Perhaps it's better than here and goodbye to you," he said to the Devil, "until we meet again."

Footnotes

Commentary

This is a version of an international folktale that was extremely popular in Ireland. It is identified as ATU 756B The devil’s contract, and there are a great many recorded examples known from Connacht and Munster, with a smaller number from Ulster. See Hans Jorg Uther, The types of international folktales: a classification and bibliography (3 vols, Helsinki, 2004) for the international versions, and for an account of Irish versions of the story see Seán Ó Súilleabháin and Rieder Th. Christiansen, The types of the Irish folktale (Helsinki, 1968), 158.