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THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL.

THE IRISH WOLF-DOG.

No individual of the canine race has attained an equal amount of fame, or excited an equal degree of attention through Europe, not merely in the days of his acknowledged existence amongst our dogs of chase, but even now, that he is considered to be extinct, with that once possessed by the superb creature whose picture adorns our title-page, and an account of whom forms the subject of the present article. Public opinion has long been divided respecting the precise appearance and form of this majestic animal, and so many different ideas have been conceived of him, that many persons have been induced to come to the conclusion that no particular breed of dogs was ever kept for wolf-hunting in this country, but that the appellation of “wolf-dog” was bestowed upon any dog swift enough to overtake and powerful enough to contend with and overcome that formidable animal. There are those who hold this opinion, and there are likewise those who hold that while a particular breed was used, it was a sort of heavy mastiff-like dog, now extinct. It is the object of the present paper to show that not only did Ireland possess a peculiar race of dogs exclusively devoted to wolf-hunting, but that those dogs, instead of being of the mastiff kind, resembled the greyhound in form; and instead of being extinct, are still to be met with, although we are compelled to acknowledge that they are very scarce. I myself was once in very gross error respecting this dog, for I like many others conceived him to have been a mastiff, and implicitly believed that the dogs of Lord Altamont, described in the 3d vol. of the Linnæan Transactions by Mr Lambert, were the sole surviving representatives of the Irish wolf-dog. An able and talented paper, read by Mr A. Haffield of this city, about a year ago, before the Dublin Natural History Society, served to stagger me in my belief, and subsequent careful inquiry and research have completed my conversion. I proceed to lay before my readers the[Pg 354] result of that inquiry, and I feel confident that no individual after reading the evidences which I shall adduce, will continue to harbour a doubt respecting the true appearance and form of the ancient Irish wolf-dog.

We are informed by such disjointed scraps of Celtic verse as Time, that merciless destroyer, has suffered to come down, though in a mutilated form, to our days, that in the times of old, when Fionn Mac Cumbaill, popularly styled Fin Mac Cool, wielded the sceptre of power and of justice, we possessed a prodigious and courageous dog used for hunting the deer and the wild boar, with, though last not least, the grim and savage wolf which ravaged the folds and slaughtered the herds of our ancestors. We learn from the same source that these dogs were also frequently employed as auxiliaries in war, and that they were “mighty in combat, their breasts like plates of brass, and greatly to be feared.” We might adduce the songs of Ossian, but that we fear to draw upon ourselves the envious rancour of some snarling critic. We cannot, however, avoid observing, that the epithets “hairy-footed,” “white-breasted,” and “bounding,” are singularly characteristic of some of the striking peculiarities of the dog in question, and strangely coincide with the descriptions furnished by other writers respecting him; so that M’Pherson must at all events have been at the pains of considerable research if he actually forged the beautiful poems which he put forth to the world under Ossian’s name. The word “Bran,” the name given to Fingal’s noble hound, employed by others than Ossian, or I should not mention it, is Celtic, and signifies “mountain torrent,” implying that impetuosity of course and headlong courage so characteristic of the subject of my paper. I have said that many assert the Irish wolf-dog to be no longer in existence. I have ventured a denial of this, and refer to the wolf-dog or deer-dog of the Highlands of Scotland as his actual and faithful living representative. Perhaps I am wrong in saying “representative.” I hold that the Irish wolf-dog and the Highland deer-dog are one and the same; and I now proceed to cite a few authorities in support of my positions.

The venerable Bede, as well as the Scotch historian John Major, informs us that Scotland was originally peopled from Ireland under the conduct of Reuda, and adds, that even in his own days half Scotland spoke the Irish language as their mother tongue; and many of my readers are doubtless aware that even at this present time the Gaelic and the Erse are so much alike that a Connaught man finds no difficulty in comprehending and conversing with a Highlander, and I myself have read the Gaelic Bible with an Irish dictionary. Scotland also was called by the early writers Scotia Minor, and Ireland Scotia Major. The colonization, therefore, of Scotland from Ireland, admits of little doubt. As the Irish wolf-dog was at that time in the enjoyment of his most extended fame, it was not to be expected that the colonists would omit taking with them such a fine description of dog, and which would prove so useful to them in a newly established settlement, and that too at a period when hunting was not merely an amusement, but one of their main occupations, and their main source of subsistence. The Irish wolf-dog was thus carried into Scotland and became the Highland or Scottish wolf-dog, changing in process of time his name with his country; and in the course of ages when the wolves died out of the land, his occupation being no longer the hunting of those animals but of deer, he became known no longer as the Highland wolf-dog, but as the Highland deer-dog, though indeed he is to the present called by the former of these appellations by many writers both Irish and Scottish. In Ireland the wolves were in existence longer than in Scotland; but as soon as the wolves ceased to exist in this country, the dogs were suffered to become extinct also, while in Scotland there was still abundant employment for them after the days of wolf-hunting were over, for the deer still remained; and useful as they had been as wolf-dogs, they proved themselves if possible more so as deer-hounds. That the Irish wolf-dog was a tall rough greyhound, similar in every respect to the Highland dog of the present day, I beg to adduce in proof the following authorities:—Strabo mentions a tall greyhound in use among the Pictish and Celtic nations, which he states was held in high esteem by our ancestors, and was even imported into Gaul for the purposes of the chase. Campion expressly speaks of the Irish wolf-dog as a “greyhound of great bone and limb.” Silaus calls it also a greyhound, and asserts that it was imported into Ireland by the Belgæ, and is the same with the renowned Belgic dog of antiquity, and that it was, during the days of Roman grandeur, brought to Rome for the combats of the amphitheatre. Pliny relates a combat in which the Irish wolf-dogs took a part; he calls them “Canes Graii Hibernici,” and describes them as much taller than the mastiff. Hollinshed, in speaking of the Irish, says, “They are not without wolves, and greyhounds to hunt them.” Evelyn, speaking of the bear-garden, says, “The bull-dogs did exceeding well, but the Irish wolf-dog exceeded, which was a tall greyhound, a stately creature, and beat a cruel mastiff.”

Llewellyn, Prince of Wales, was presented by King John with a specimen of this kind of dog, “the greyhound, the greathound, the graceful of limb;” and most of my readers are familiar with that beautiful poem, the “Grave of the Greyhound.” These animals were in those days permitted to be kept only by princes and chiefs; and in the Welch laws of the ninth century we find heavy penalties laid down for the maiming or injuring of the Irish greyhound, or, as it was styled in the code alluded to, “Canis Graius Hibernicus;” and a value was set upon them, equal to more than double that set on the ordinary greyhound.

Moryson, secretary to Lord Deputy Mountjoy, says, “The Irishmen and greyhounds are of great stature.” Lombard says that the finest hunting dogs in Europe were produced in Ireland: “Greyhounds useful to take the stag, wild boar, or wolf.” Pennant describes these dogs as scarce, and as being led to the chase in leather slips or thongs, and calls them the “Irish greyhound.” Ray describes him as the “greatest dog” he had ever seen. Buffon says he saw an “Irish greyhound” which measured five feet in height when in a sitting posture, and says that all other sorts of greyhounds are descended from him, and that in Scotland it is called the Highland greyhound, that it is very large, deep chested, and covered with long rough hair.

Scottish noblemen were not always content with such specimens of this dog as their own country produced, but frequently sent for them to Ireland, conceiving doubtless that they would be found better and purer in their native land. The following is a copy of a letter addressed by Deputy Falkland to the Earl of Cork in 1623:—

Smith, in the second edition of his History of Waterford, says, “The Irish greyhound is nearly extinct: it is much taller than a mastiff, but more like a greyhound, and for size, strength, and shape, cannot be equalled. Roderick, King of Connaught, was obliged to furnish hawks and greyhounds to Henry II. Sir Thomas Rue obtained great favour from the Great Mogul in 1615 for a brace of Irish greyhounds presented by him. Henry VIII. presented the Marquis of Dessarages, a Spanish grandee, with two goshawks and four Irish greyhounds.”

I have now adduced, I think, a sufficient number of authorities to demonstrate the identity of the Irish wolf-dog with the Highland deer-hound. I might adduce many more, but want of space prevents my doing so. I may however, ere concluding, take the liberty of extracting from the excellent paper of Mr Haffield, already alluded to as having been read before the Dublin Natural History Society, the following communication, received by that gentleman from Sir William Betham, Ulster King at Arms, an authority of very high importance on any subject connected with Irish antiquities. Sir William says:—“From the mention of the wolf-dogs in the old Irish poems and stories, and also from what I have heard from a very old person, long since dead, of his having seen them at the Neale, in the county of Mayo, the seat of Sir John Browne, ancestor to Lord Kilmaine, I have no doubt they were a gigantic greyhound. My departed friend described them as being very gentle, and that Sir J. Browne allowed them to come into his dining-room, where they put their heads over the shoulders of those who sat at table: they were not smooth-skinned like our greyhounds, but rough and curly-haired. The Irish poets call the wolf-dog ‘Cu,’ and the common hound ‘Gayer;’ a marked distinction, the word ‘Cu’ signifying a champion.”

The Highland or Irish wolf-dog is a stately majestic animal,[Pg 355] extremely good tempered and quiet in his disposition unless when irritated or excited, when he becomes furious, and is, in consequence of his tremendous strength, a truly formidable animal. The size of these dogs has been much exaggerated. Goldsmith asserts that he saw several, some of which were four feet high! We cannot of course credit this, but there is no doubt that they were larger than most other dogs, and indeed the Highland deer-hound is now the tallest dog in existence.

This animal is nearly extinct. Even Glengarry, whose dogs were once so famous, has not one genuine specimen left, and but a few remain scattered here and there through the north of Ireland and the Highlands of Scotland. Mr Nolan’s dog “Oscar,” whose portrait heads this article, is the finest specimen of the kind I have ever seen, standing 28½ inches in height at the shoulders; their average height in their very best days seems to have been about 30 inches. The colour of these dogs varies, but the most esteemed are dark iron-grey, with white breast. This is the colour of Oscar. They are, however, to be found of a yellowish or sandy hue, brindled, and even white. In former times, as will be seen from Lord Falkland’s letter quoted above, this latter colour was by many preferred. One of the most remarkable facts respecting the size of this dog, is the great disparity which exists between the sizes of the male and female of the breed, many of the latter being very diminutive, while their male offspring invariably attain the full stature of its race. Why will not some of our Irish gentlemen and sportsmen turn their attention to this splendid breed of dogs, and seek to prevent, ere it be too late, its total extirpation?

Now, readers, there may be some among you who have thought my paper somewhat dry and prosy; and in case you should forget the many times I have amused you before, and cast me forth altogether from your good graces, I shall conclude with an authentic statement of how the last wolves existing in the county Tyrone were destroyed by means of the Irish greyhound; my account is taken from a biography of a Tyrone family published in Belfast in 1829. I thus venture to abridge the note to page 74.

In the mountainous parts of the county Tyrone the inhabitants suffered much from the wolves, and gave from the public fund as much for the head of one of these animals as they would now give for the capture of a notorious robber on the highway. There lived in those days an adventurer, who, alone and unassisted, made it his occupation to destroy these ravagers. The time for attacking them was in the night, and midnight was the best time for doing so, as that was their wonted time for leaving their lair in search of food, when the country was at rest and all was still; then issuing forth, they fell on their defenceless prey, and the carnage commenced. There was a species of dog for the purpose of hunting them, called the wolf-dog; the animal resembled a rough, stout, half-bred greyhound, but was much stronger. In the county Tyrone there was then a large space of ground inclosed by a high stone wall, having a gap at each of the two opposite extremities, and in this were secured the flocks of the surrounding farmers. Still, secure though this fold was deemed, it was entered by the wolves, and its inmates slaughtered. The neighbouring proprietors having heard of the noted wolf-hunter above mentioned, by name Rory Carragh, sent for him, and offered the usual reward, with some addition, if he would undertake to destroy the two remaining wolves that had committed such devastation. Carragh undertaking the task, took with him two wolf-dogs, and a little boy only twelve years old, the only person who would accompany him, and repaired at the approach of midnight to the fold in question. “Now,” said Carragh to the boy, “as the two wolves usually enter the opposite extremities of the sheep-fold at the same time, I must leave you and one of the dogs to guard this one while I go to the other. He steals with all the caution of a cat, nor will you hear him, but the dog will, and positively will give him the first fall; if, therefore, you are not active when he is down to rivet his neck to the ground with this spear, he will rise up and kill both you and the dog. So good night.”

“I’ll do what I can,” said the little boy, as he took the spear from the wolf-hunter’s hand.

The boy immediately threw open the gate of the fold, and took his seat in the inner part, close to the entrance; his faithful companion crouching at his side, and seeming perfectly aware of the dangerous business he was engaged in. The night was very dark and cold, and the poor little boy being benumbed with the chilly air, was beginning to fall into a kind of sleep, when at that instant the dog with a roar leaped across him, and laid his mortal enemy upon the earth. The boy, was roused into double activity by the voice of his companion, and drove the spear through the wolf’s neck as he had been directed, at which time Carragh appeared, bearing the head of the other.

I have not been able to ascertain with certainty the date of the death of the last Irish wolf, but there was a presentment for killing wolves granted in Cork in the year 1710. I am at present acquainted with an old gentleman between 80 and 90 years of age, whose mother remembered wolves to have been killed in the county of Wexford about the year 1730-40; and it is asserted by many persons of weight and veracity that a wolf was killed in the Wicklow mountains so recently as 1770. I have other legends on the subject of wolf-hunting in Ireland in former times, but want of space compels me, for the present at all events, to conclude, which I do, trusting that what I have already written will gratify my readers.

An ancient Irish harp, popularly known as the harp of Brian Boriumha, still preserved in Trinity College, Dublin, is ornamented with a figure of the wolf-dog, which, as representing him under the form of a rough strong greyhound, precisely similar to the animal now known as the Highland deer-hound, furnishes an additional argument to the correctness of the position above advanced.

H. D. R.

Mosaic Work.—The art of mosaic work has been known in Rome since the days of the republic. The severer rulers of that period forbade the introduction of foreign marbles, and the republican mosaics are all in black and white. Under the empire the art was greatly improved, and not merely by the introduction of marbles of various colours, but by the invention of artificial stones, termed by the Italians smalti, which can be made of every variety of tint. This art was never entirely lost. On the introduction of pictures into Christian temples, they were first made of mosaic; remaining specimens of these are rude, but profoundly interesting in a historical point of view. When art was restored in Italy, mosaic also was improved, but it attained its greatest perfection in the last and present century. Roman mosaic, as now practised, may be described as being the production of pictures by connecting together numerous minute pieces of coloured marble or artificial stones; these are attached to a ground of copper by means of a strong cement of gum mastic, and other materials, and are afterwards ground and polished as a stone would be to a perfectly level surface; by this art not only are ornaments made on a small scale, but pictures of the largest size are copied. In former times the largest cupolas of churches, and not unfrequently the entire walls, were encrusted with mosaic. The most remarkable modern works are the copies which have been executed of some of the most important works of the great masters for the altars in St Peter’s. These are in every respect perfect imitations of the originals; and when the originals, in spite of every care, must change and perish, these mosaics will still convey to distant ages a perfect idea of the triumphs of art achieved in the fifteenth century. The government manufactory in Rome occupies the apartments in the Vatican which were used as offices of the Inquisition. No copies are now made, but cases of smalti are shown, containing, it is said, 18,000 different tints. Twenty years were employed in making one of the copies I have mentioned. The pieces of mosaic vary in size from an eighth to a sixteenth of an inch, and eleven men were employed for that time on each picture. A great improvement was introduced into the art in 1775 by the Signor Raffaeli, who thought of preparing the smalti in what may be termed fine threads. The pastes or smalti are manufactured at Venice in the shape of crayons, or like sticks of sealing-wax, and are afterwards drawn out by the workman at a blow-pipe, into the thickness he requires, often almost to a hair, and now seldom thicker than the finest grass stalk. For tables and large articles, of course, the pieces are thicker; but the beauty of the workmanship, the soft gradation of the tints, and the cost, depend upon the minuteness of the pieces, and the skill displayed by the artist. A ruin, a group of flowers or figures, will employ a good artist about two months when only two inches square, and a specimen of such a description costs from £5 to £20, according to the execution; a landscape, six inches by four, would require eighteen months, and would cost from forty to fifty pounds. This will strike you as no adequate remuneration[Pg 356] for the time bestowed. The finest ornaments for a lady, consisting of necklace, ear-rings, and brooch, cost forty pounds. For a picture of Paestum, eight feet long, and twenty inches broad, on which four men were occupied for three years, £1,000 sterling was asked.

I shall now notice the mosaic work of Florence. It differs entirely from Roman mosaic, being composed of stones inserted in comparatively large masses; it is called work in pietra dura. The stones used are all more or less of a rare and precious nature. In old specimens the most beautiful works are those in which the designs are of an arabesque character. The most remarkable specimen of this description of pietra dura is an octagonal table in the Gubinetto di Baroccio, in the Florence Gallery. It is valued at £20,000 sterling, and was commenced in 1623 by Jacopo Detelli, from designs by Ligozzi. Twenty-two artists worked upon it without interruption till it was terminated in the year 1649. Attempts at landscapes, and the imitation of natural objects, were usually failures in former times, mere works of labour, which did not attain their object; but of late works have been produced in this art, in which are represented groups of flowers and fruit, vases, musical instruments, and other compatible objects, with a truth and beauty which excite the utmost admiration and surprise. These pictures in stone are, however, enormously expensive, and can only be seen in the palaces of the great. Two tables in the Pilazzo Pitti are valued at £7,000, and this price is by no means excessive. These are of modern design, on a ground of porphyry, and ten men were employed for four years on one of them, and a spot is pointed out, not more than three inches square, on which a man had worked for ten months. But Florentine mosaic, like that of Rome, is not merely used for cabinets, tables, or other ornamental articles; the walls of the spacious chapel which is used as the burial-place of the reigning family at Florence are lined with pietra dura, realising the gem-encrusted halls of the Arabian tales. Roman mosaic, as we have seen, is of great value as an ally to art; but Florentine mosaic can have no such pretensions, and time and money might be better bestowed. The effect is far from pleasing in the chapel I have alluded to, and I think that the art might be advantageously confined to the production of small ornaments, for which it is eminently adapted.—The Civil Engineer and Architect’s Journal.

SEALS OF IRISH CHIEFS.

An Essay read at a Meeting of the Royal Irish Academy, by George Petrie, R.H.A., M.R.I.A.

Having a few months since succeeded in deciphering an ancient and somewhat difficult inscription on the seal of a distinguished Irish chief, which the Dean of St Patrick’s had but just previously added to his magnificent collection of our national antiquities, it occurred to me that a notice of this seal, and of a few others of the same class, preserved in that collection and in my own, might be somewhat interesting to the Academy, and at the same time prove useful in showing the importance of forming collections of this kind. In an assembly so enlightened as that which I have the honour to address, it would be impertinent to offer any remarks on the value of ancient seals, not only as evidences of the truth of history, both local and national, but also as illustrations of the state and progress of the arts in times past. As has been justly remarked, it is from the great seals of England that we have been supplied with the surest criteria for estimating the progressive advancements made in architectural taste, and the various successive phases which it has from time to time exhibited in the country; and if all other historical evidences were lost, this alone would perhaps be sufficient to compensate for the want. The importance of this branch of archæology has indeed been felt and acknowledged in every other country of Europe, in proportion to the progress which it has made in civilization and refinement; and we should perhaps feel some mortification at being necessitated to confess that in Ireland alone it has hitherto received scarcely any attention. I shall not say that this neglect on the part of our antiquaries has arisen from a distaste for investigations which, as they require merely a little learning and common sense, allow no indulgence for the mind to soar into the dim and distant upper regions of romance and fanciful conjecture, where such qualities would be found but weighty and earthly incumbrances. A sufficient reason may be found in the fact, that until very recently there were no collections of antiquities of this class in existence to which investigators could refer; and hence, if the Irish antiquary had been only a few years back asked the question whether the Irish ever had the use of signets commonly among them, he would have been constrained to confess his inability to give an answer. Such a question, however, can be replied to now in a more satisfactory manner. It is ascertained that not only the Irish kings and petty princes, from the period of the Anglo-Norman conquest, used signets, but also that they were common among persons of inferior rank. It can be also shown that such signets closely resembled in style and device those of the Anglo-Normans of similar ranks. Still, however, from the imperfection consequent on the recent formation of our collections of antiquities, the era at which seals began to be used in Ireland remains undecided; for although we have no seals of an earlier age than the thirteenth century, it would be as yet premature to conclude that none such ever existed. Till a recent period it was the opinion of the English antiquaries generally that the use of signets was unknown to the Saxons, and was introduced into England by the Normans; and this opinion was grounded on the fact that no Saxon seals had ever been discovered. But of late years there have been found seals, unquestionably of the Saxon times; and no doubt can now be reasonably entertained of their general use among that people; and hence, although no seals of cotemporaneous with the Saxon times have as yet been met with in Ireland, the similarity that prevailed between the two countries in customs, and in knowledge of the arts, would very strongly warrant the conclusion that the use of signets could not have been unknown or perhaps uncommon in Ireland.

To these prefatory remarks I have only to add, that though the use of signets was common not only among the Greeks and Romans, but also among the earlier civilized nations of the East, we have no evidence that such a use had ever been introduced into Ireland by its original colonists.

With these few general introductory observations I shall now proceed to exhibit to the Academy the seals which it appeared to me desirable to bring under their notice.

The first, unfortunately, I can only exhibit in a drawing, as the original is not now known to exist. It is the seal of Felim O’Conor, who was allowed by the English government to bear the hereditary title of king of Connaught in the thirteenth century, and the legend is S. Fedlimid Regis Conactie. The impression of this seal has been published in Ware’s Antiquities, where it is adduced as an evidence that some of the Irish chiefs retained the title of king subsequently to the Anglo-Norman conquest. The following is the passage in which the statement occurs:—

“Thus far the kings of Ireland, who lived before the arrival of the English under King Henry II, but even after that period, some, though subjects, enjoyed the regal title, and were styled kings even by the kings of England. For Hoveden cites the following passage under the year 1175. Hic est Finis et Concordia, &c. ‘This is the final end and concord, which was made at Windsor on the octaves of St Michael in the year of grace 1175, between our Lord Henry king of England, son of the Empress Maude, and Roderick king of Connaught, by Catholicus, Archbishop of Tuam, and Cantord, Abbot of St Brendan, and Master Laurence, chancellor of the king of Conaught, viz., that the king of England grants to the said Roderick, his liege man, king of Conaught, that as long as he shall faithfully serve him, he shall be king under him, ready to do him service as liege man, &c.’ The letters patent of king Henry II, by which he committed the management of his Irish affairs to William Fitz-Adelm, his sewer, shew us the rank in which these nominal kings were at that time placed. They begin thus: ‘Henricus, &c. Henry by the grace of God, king of England, lord of Ireland, duke of Normandy and Aquitain, and earl of Anjou, to the archbishops,[Pg 357] bishops, KINGS, earls, barons, and to all his faithful subjects of Ireland, greeting.’ It appears also out of the close roll An. 6th of king John in the Tower of London, that the successor of Roderick was in like manner called king of Conaught. So in the close roll of the 5th of Henry III, some of the king’s letters patent were directed, among others to K. king of Conaught, and to O. king of Kinel-ean; and in the following year the same king granted to the king of Tosmond the land of Tosmond. For thus it is in the charter roll of the 6th of Henry III, Membr. 2, ‘Rex, &c. The king to the king of Tosmond, greeting. We grant unto you the land of Tosmond, (i. e. Thumond) which you formerly held at the farm of 130 marks, to be held of us until we come of age.’ Concerning the suit exhibited at London by Fedlimid O’Conor before K. Henry III. and his court, see Matthew Paris under the year 1140, where that writer calls him ‘Petty King of that part of Ireland, which is called Cunnoch, i. e. Conaught;’ and that Fedlimid himself took upon him the name of king of Connaught, appears from his seal, the impression of which is exhibited to the reader, plate 1, No. 3.—[It appears by the Lord Stafford’s letters (c.) that the seal here mentioned was presented to King Charles I. in the year 1636.]”

From the letter here alluded to, which was addressed to Lord Stafford by Secretary Cooke in 1636, it appears that this seal was presented by Sir Beverley Newcomen to the king in person, by whom, as the letter states, the seal was much esteemed, and well accepted. As this seal is not known to exist at present, it may be supposed that it was lost in the civil wars which followed so soon afterwards.

As the life of Felim O’Conor constitutes a portion of the general history of Ireland, it is unnecessary for me to advert more in detail to it, than to mention that he was elected to the throne of Connaught, by the English of that province in 1230, was deposed by them in 1232, was restored again soon afterwards, died in 1265, and was interred in the abbey of Roscommon, where a magnificent tomb was raised over his remains, which is still to be seen. His death is thus recorded in the Annals of the Four Masters:—“1265. Felim, the son of Charles the red-handed O’Conor, defender and supporter of his own province and of his friends on every side; expeller and plunderer of his enemies; a man full of hospitality, valour, and renown; patron of the orders of the clergy and of men of science; worthy heir to the throne of Ireland for his nobility, justice and valour, wisdom, personal shape, and love of truth; died after extreme unction and penance, in the monastery of the Dominican Friars at Roscommon, which he himself had granted to God and that order.”

It will be observed that the style and device of this seal are very similar to those of the Norman and Anglo-Norman seals of the same age; and it can scarcely admit of doubt that its type was derived from that source. As to its general form, we have no description left; but a nearly cotemporary seal of a king of Desmond, which I have now the honour to exhibit will probably enable the Academy to form an accurate idea of it.

This seal, which is from my own cabinet, is, as the inscription shows, the seal of Donald Og, the son of Donald Roe Mac Carthy, who, as appears from the notices in the Irish and English authorities, became king or lord of Desmond by the murder of his father, Donald Roe, in 1306, or, as some accounts state, in 1302, and was himself killed in 1309. The legend runs thus:—S. Dovenaldi: Og: Fili: D: Roth MaCarthy. The name of this prince appears in the pedigree of the Mac Carthy family as fifteenth in ascent from the last Earl of Clancarty and the thirtieth in descent from their great ancestor Oilioll Olum. It will be seen that its device is very similar to that of the king of Connaught, but the form of the letters in the inscription indicates a somewhat later age. This seal was found about twenty years ago in the county of Cork, and was purchased originally by a watch-maker in that city.

The next seal that I have the honour to exhibit is from the collection of the Dean of St Patrick’s, and is that to which I made allusion at the commencement of this paper. It was discovered by that zealous collector among some old silver in a jeweller’s shop. In its general features it is similar to the seals already noticed, but the character of the letters in the legend indicate a still later age; and this circumstance, unimportant as it may appear, is of consequence, as it enables us with certainty to determine its owner, which would otherwise have been with difficulty ascertained, as there were two chiefs of the name in the legend in the family to which it belongs. The inscription on this seal reads thus:—Si. Mac Con, ducis de Ui Cassin. The territory called Hy-Caissin comprehended a considerable tract of the ancient Thomond in the county of Clare, of which the Macnamaras were hereditary lords; and the Mac Con whose name appears on this seal is found in all the pedigrees of that illustrious family, as the 28th in descent from Oilioll Olum, the common ancestor of the Mac Carthys, O’Briens, and other princely families of Munster. According to the Annals of Innisfallen, which are the best authority for the history of Munster, the first Mac Con Mara was elected to be chief head of the tribe of O’Coilean in 1313: and again, at the year 1315, it is stated that Macnamara, and Mahon the son of Cumea, went to the tower of De Clare to compel him to enter into an agreement, which De Clare acceded to, to give Mac Con and his heirs the canthred of Ua Caissin, the charters whereof had been given to De Clare. The second Mac Con, to whom as I conceive this seal should be assigned, and who was grandson to the former, became chief of Hy-Caissin about the year 1340, and died about ten years afterwards.

[The remainder of this article shall be given in an early number.]

THE GIRLS OF THE WEST.

Air—“Teddy ye gander.”

[Pg 358]

SOME ACCOUNT OF AN IRISH DARE-DEVIL.

People may talk about the idleness and indolence of Irishmen, but in my mind they merely betray their ignorance in so doing. Positively there is no other country on the face of the earth, the inhabitants of which have wrought out for themselves so many different professions, occupations, and ingenious expedients, to make the time pass agreeably: let any change in the constitution of society require the exercise of any particular faculty for good or for evil, and straightway the vacancy is filled up with an expedition and efficiency truly wonderful. Astounding as the proposition may sound to the wise men and women of the empire, the fact is, that Irishmen hate idleness; it is an intolerable load to them; they are ever on the look-out for something to do; and as all parties concede to them the possession of almost infallible ingenuity, it would be strange indeed, if, in a spot of land so fertile in adventure, any one of them should be long at fault in such a pursuit.

That the occupations upon which they occasionally fix, in their amiable detestation of idleness, are not always the best calculated to promote the well-being or comforts of the rest of the community, I am quite free to confess; but this is all matter of taste, and does not at all interfere with the validity of my argument, which merely seeks to assert that an Irishman will do anything sooner than be doing nothing. To be sure they have their propensities, among the most favourite of which are fighting, farming, and love-making; but should any untoward obstacle prevent their indulgence in any of these tastes, they by no means sink into an apathetic despondency like many of their neighbours: they have too many resources for that, upon some one of which they immediately fall back with as much zeal and energy as if it had been the original occupation of their choice. Nor are they fastidious: in the generality of cases it is quite immaterial to them whether they are practising gunnery upon a denounced landlord, or figuring in a procession: they are ready for anything, good, bad, or indifferent—anything but idleness. It was said of old that were you to put an Irishman on the spit, you would not long be at a loss for another to turn it. Whoever he was that first propounded that maxim, certes he knew our nation well; nay, I would venture to say that in ninety-nine cases an Irishman would roast his mother, if driven to that melancholy alternative, sooner than remain either idle or inactive. Joking apart, I wish those who grumble most about Ireland would give us something to do, and find for us some rational occupation which might obviate the daily occurrence of those little extravagances of conduct which render our people a puzzle and a wonder to better regulated communities.

Such a state of society as this, and such restless activity alone, could give birth to the extraordinary character whose turbulent career I am about inditing; but ere I proceed, it would perhaps be well to allude to the circumstances and emergencies which, on the principles I have laid down, threw such an individual to the surface. Little more than allusion will be necessary; for in these days, when so much has been said and sung about Ireland—while Carleton in his soul-searching tales anatomises the very inmost heart of our countrymen, and Mrs Hall skims the surface of all that is good and beautiful amongst us—while attorneys make fortunes, and lawyers found families, who can be ignorant of the lamentable mismanagement of property which has beggared so many of our oldest families? The history of one will almost tell the fate of them all. Incumbrances accumulating for perhaps half-a-dozen generations, some probably long before discharged, but still allowed to remain on record as if unpaid, through mere neglect and carelessness, until the fact of their ever having been paid falls into oblivion, or becomes incapable of proof; others permitted to continue, in the hope that some lucky accident would some time or other, and somehow or other, transfer them by inheritance to the heir, or else enable him to liquidate them more conveniently than at the present. At last, in the changes of mortal affairs, they fall into the hands of strangers or persons who must have their own. A settlement is demanded—the inheritor finds himself fifty per cent worse than nothing—redemption is out of the question—he plunges into tenfold dissipation and extravagance, knowing that he wastes nothing which it is in his power to retain or retrieve. A short life and a merry one, is his maxim; to protract it, he litigates every claim right and left—seeks to baffle every process of the law—calls his tenantry to his assistance—while they, taking advantage of his distresses, and the confusion of all rights, assume an independent position, playing off the landlord and his adversaries against one another—now rebelling against his weak claims—now affording him protection against the advances of the law, throwing their weight into whatever scale promises the most fun and the most advantage—half-a-dozen bailiffs are maimed or murdered—half-a-dozen examples are made to the offended dignity of justice. Affairs come to their crisis at last in spite of all opposition. The attorneys get their costs—the creditors get the surplus—the unfortunate debtor gets the turn-out—and so ends an old song and an old family.

This terrible ultimatum of the law did not, however, in all cases put an end to the hopes and energies of the discomfited litigant. Another card still remained to be played, by any one reckless and desperate enough to avail himself of it: this was no less than to rise in open opposition to all law, set the sheriff and his subalterns at defiance, and hold possession with a strong hand after the manner of the ancients. Before matters came to this, the tenantry were usually, from the causes I have mentioned, sufficiently demoralized for any purpose; and whatever might have been their previous conduct, those sympathies which seldom fail a ruined master, were of course roused to their highest pitch; in addition to which stimulant, it was manifestly their advantage that the reign of misrule should continue, so that, when a man was thus turned at bay, there was no saying how the matter might end. I believe it very often happened, during the weak and uncertain administration of justice in the past century, that a pertinacious adherence to this desperate line of policy has tired out the persecution of all adversaries, and been crowned with final success. Any money, therefore, for a partizan able and willing to undertake the support of such a desperate cause; one who, while his principal kept in the background, had no fear or shame to prevent him from putting himself forward—drilling the tenants—collecting adherents and information—concentrating all the lawlessness of the district against the operations of the law—holding his own life at nought, and the lives of all others at a lower standard, if possible.

In those days society required Dare-devils, and if old stories be true, Dare-devils galore arose to supply the want. But what were they all to Mick Connell of Thurles? The desperado whose name is still remembered with terror and admiration through the district which was the scene of his turbulent career fifty years ago, was, as my informant described him to me, a man of the most indomitable resolution, endowed with a strength of body truly formidable, though of small stature and mean appearance, and withal one of the most mortal opponents of the king’s writ that ever figured, even in Tipperary. This fellow was not slow to perceive that a more pleasing and profitable occupation could be found for the exercise of the daring qualities which he possessed, than was afforded in the occasional outbreak at fair or pattern, to which he had hitherto in his simplicity restricted himself. A gentleman in the neighbourhood got into difficulties, and, poor man, had not a soul belonging to him who could direct the laudable exertions his tenants and followers were willing to make in his behalf, or show them how even to dispose of a bailiff. Common humanity induced Mick to come forward, and never was an act of humanity more richly rewarded. The most brilliant and unexpected success crowned his labours. Under his guidance the tenants became a phalanx, able to bother the twelve judges themselves, or tire the patience even of a Chancery suit. Writs were sent out, but had no return, and now and then the same might be said of the bailiffs who ventured to bear them. Everything was reduced to the most perfect system; and the attorneys, dismayed and discomfited, declared themselves conquered by a line of tactics hitherto unknown, the discoverer of which deserved to be immortalized. The result was, that the party who had been so fortunate as to awaken for his service the slumbering energies of this determined partizan, was allowed an honourable capitulation, while the discovery of these happy improvements in the noble art of self-defence gained for Connell himself the character of public benefactor of all distressed country gentlemen.

His fame increased, and business came thick upon him. Many a man who was half inclined to die soft before, without one effort to save himself, took courage now, and hastened to avail himself of the prowess and protection of this new and unhoped-for auxiliary; until, at length, in all desperate cases the first step taken was to secure his services. In process of time his sons grew to manhood, fitted in every respect to co-operate with such a father; and of course the extent and boldness of his operations increased along with his family.[Pg 359] The local authorities connived at him; many of them probably having received the benefit of his assistance already, while the rest of them knew not what day would fling them upon his protection. Touch Connell!—they would as soon touch the apples of their own eyes; they might as well yield themselves at once to the hated touch of the bailiffs. Gratitude for past services, and a prudent view to those which he might ere long be called to render, procured him an immunity from the harassing regulations which were made for the control of gentlemen of his kidney; and, accordingly, under this reciprocal patronage he grew and flourished, and waxed famous. Gradually he became enabled to form a gang, and, that point gained, he became irresistible. The beauty and simplicity of his system caused it to triumph every where. Debts were at a discount—judgments were condemned—incumbrances ceased to be a burden—and, alas for the mutability of mortal greatness, the sheriff, the very sheriff, was so lightly regarded that not a soul in the place would be bothered bribing him!

Respectable and remunerative as his line of business had become, it was not long until a wider field was opened to his increased powers, and the experience he had accumulated. The representative of an old and considerable family was threatened with an ejectment by some of his relatives, who possessed a clearer claim to the property than he did; while, in addition to the doubtfulness of his cause, he had to bemoan that the improvident manner in which he lived had deprived him of the means necessary to defend it. Nor were his troubles confined to one law-suit. Other parties, conceiving their rights were as feasible as those of his original adversary, determined on a similar assertion of them, and on one day the luckless wight was served with, I believe, no less than four ejectments. I suppose every body is aware of the indiscretions, irregularities, and extravagances which in that facetious process are alleged against the person whom it seeks to disturb. I need not, therefore, say with what amazement the poor man perused the weighty charges of assault and battery so circumstantially laid against him, or how deeply he puzzled his memory in ransacking it to discover when he could, by any possibility, have committed all these outrages. And who the deuce was John Thrustout, that seemed mixed up so much in the transaction?—he was a civil fellow, anyhow, for he warned him fairly of his danger, and advised him to make the best fight he could. “And, by the powers, so I will,” he ejaculated; “since they say we wallopped them, I may as well have the gains as the name—let them do their best. If Mike Connell helps me, I’ll take the hint, and maybe they won’t have truth on their side the next time they complain of me.”

It usually happens that where a great many people are endeavouring each to get a blow at one unfortunate, he against whom this united ill will is directed comes off pretty safe in the scramble. In Ireland, at all events, the luxury of thrashing one’s neighbour is so highly prized, that one can bear no interference when enjoying it, and thus a well-meaning auxiliary in the grateful occupation is likely to fall in for worse treatment than was originally intended for the first victim. So it was in the present instance. The discordant interests of the different claimants bred such confusion and disturbance in the several suits instituted, that for a long time the poor wretch whom all sought to disinherit was left in comparative quiet, and leisure was afforded him to overcome the scruples which Connell raised when it was first proposed to him to undertake the piece of unheard-of atrocity required of him, no less, in fact, than to place himself in direct and open outlawry, by seizing possession of the property in dispute, and holding it by force of arms against all comers. But the bribe was too large, and the adventure altogether too tempting, notwithstanding its concomitant perils, for Connell’s virtue or prudence to persist in refusing; so, casting aside all minor matters as unworthy of the bright prospects now opening before him, he gathered his troop of brigands, strengthened it with some new hands, cleared it of all doubtful characters, and, to use a transatlantic term, squatted in full force on the disputed territory, dividing its richest farms between himself and his followers, as the price of his and their services.

Weary on these law-suits!—terminate as they may, they invariably end by sucking away the very life-blood of the fools who rush into them. In the case to which I allude, the unfortunate defendant had not the poor satisfaction of living to see the discomfiture which he had prepared for his assailants. The daily watch for ruin, still deferred, was to him as sickening as ever was the watch for hope under like circumstances; and he died ere it came, leaving his curse among his adversaries on an average, and his strong injunction to Connell to hold out against them all—an injunction he was by no means inclined to disobey; for, now that he had undertaken the job, he was as eager to see out the fun as if he had himself originally concocted it, not to speak of the snug homesteads which he and his gang possessed on the sole tenure of their resistance to all intruders. Accordingly, no sooner had he disposed of the mortal remains of his defunct employer, than he betook himself with almost religious zeal to obey his behests, by strengthening himself against the storm which he foresaw would soon burst upon him. The mansion-house was a strong substantial building, and there, with a judgment that would have been creditable to the most eminent general who ever conquered on a field of battle, he removed his head-quarters, and proceeded to lay in such stores of food, arms, and ammunition as would enable him to meet the danger in a manner worthy of the stake he was playing for. It is needless to paint the dismay which these bold arrangements scattered through the camps of the various claimants, who thus, at the very moment when each congratulated himself upon the immediate prospect of snatching the prize which the operation of nature, anticipating that of law, had thrown into his hands, found this unexpected and formidable opponent start up in their path, with his audacious pretensions, so audaciously, but at the same time so seriously supported. Had there been anything like confidence among them, their co-operation might probably have effected his expulsion; but it was not without reason that the cunning freebooter reckoned upon their mutual distrust precluding the possibility of such a coalition. Each of course sought to make terms with him; and with each, of course, he coquetted as naturally as if he had been bred, born, and reared in the best society, but in vain each importuned him to give up the possession—to all such demands he returned the same modest answer, “Truly it would not become an ignorant simple man like him to pretend to settle a question which puzzled the judges themselves. As soon as the rightful owner was declared, he would be ready to quit in his favour; but until then, it was his duty to keep all out with perfect impartiality.”

One of the parties whose demands were thus evaded, happened to be a wrongheaded, positive sort of customer of the old school, who viewed the power and decisions of the wigged brotherhood with almost as much contempt as Connell himself could regard them, and being too impatient to await the slow and sinuous progress of the law, undertook the desperate resolution of forcing that redoubted personage to evacuate, even by force of arms. It never was a hard matter in Tipperary, when a rookawn was on foot, to gather auxiliaries; and at the time of which I write, the facilities were perhaps more numerous than ever; not even the formidable character of the garrison and its commander could deter numbers of the adventurous spirits of that famed region from the enterprize. They entered into the spirit of the thing with heart and soul; and, accordingly, one fine morning, with a goodly band at his heels, and prepared with all the needful appliances, this old-fashioned vindicator of his rights set out to storm the stronghold. It is unnecessary to say that an awful riot ensued—barricades were broken down, outposts driven in, houses wrecked, and numbers of his then majesty’s subjects wofully maltreated; until at length, in spite of all opposition, they reached the house, than which even valour’s self could no further go. Scaling-ladders and battering-rams were in requisition; the fun began to thicken, and the result to grow doubtful. Saragossa was not more nobly defended, nor Badajos more gallantly assailed. It is possible, however, to push a joke too far, even on the best tempered people; and Connell, feeling that this was the case, determined to give a gentle intimation of it to his assailants. A large window had been burst in and ladders placed against the breach—a rush was made to ascend them in defiance of the threats which he denounced against whoever should attempt it, and which he executed by pouring a discharge of fire-arms into the very thickest of the mass. But it was too late to intimidate; the enraged mob rushed over the bodies of the fallen—a simultaneous attack was made upon all points—and, alas for the brave, the post was won. In the melée that ensued, all escaped but the leader; and before the relatives of the slain, or the general mass of the victorious party, were aware of his capture, he was judiciously hurried out of their reach, and handed over to the civil power on a charge of murder. There is no part of the world, however, in which the distinction between killing and murder was so well understood as in Ireland in those days; and in point of[Pg 360] fact, I believe the man was free from the legal charge—at least so it appeared to the jury who tried him, for he was acquitted. Short-lived, indeed, was the triumph of his adversaries, and immediately on his liberation they began to tremble for the security of their tenure. He had sworn that though it should cost him his life, he would endeavour to recover the premises of which he had been dispossessed, and they knew him too well to doubt him: a council of war was held, and the question proposed, should the place be defended or evacuated? The latter alternative was adopted, not without good reason; but it was likewise determined that it should never again afford such protection to Connell as it had, or present an obstacle to the entry of the legitimate claimant, when fortune should so far favour him; and in pursuance of this policy the stately mansion was levelled to the ground—house and offices, even to the walled enclosures, every spot that could again harbour a freebooter.

But it was not so easy to baffle that indefatigable customer: half of his resources were not yet expended; his followers, reanimated by his escape, gathered round him again; and before his dismayed antagonists recovered from their disappointment, he was strongly and securely entrenched in an earthen fort of his own construction, in which he displayed as much science and foresight as would have done credit to Carnôt. This was the period of his highest triumph: his insolence became unbounded; and he used, I am informed, to stalk through the streets of Thurles, on the most public occasions, armed to the teeth, and defying the best man in the town “to lay a wet finger on him.” It is not to be supposed that these extraordinary proceedings could fail of reaching the ears of the high functionaries who were called upon to decide upon the rights of the rival claimants, and who, not regarding Connell as the very fittest person to undertake the care of the litigated property, ordered him to be instantaneously dispossessed, and forwarded writs to that purport to the sheriff. That officer, no way astray as to the dangers and difficulties he should encounter in any attempt to dislodge such a desperado, collected as much of the civil and military force of the district as was available, and proceeded to execute his perilous behest. Of course he was resisted, and it was soon found that the most violent measures should be resorted to. An order was given to storm the fort, and the attempt was answered by a volley from within, that tumbled a couple of the assailants, and drove back the remainder. The conflict became deadly, but so securely were the banditti posted, that all the efforts of the besiegers made scarce any impression upon them: cannon alone could be effectual, and a dispatch was sent for it. In the meantime a general assault was given, with partial success, which seemed to dishearten Connell so far us that he attempted a sortie for the purpose of escaping. Two of his sons fell in the melée, but all the rest of the party succeeded in getting off, leaving some half dozen of the assailants half dead or dying. He was now, undoubtedly, within the reach of the law, and warrants were issued for his apprehension; but for a long time no one dared to attempt executing them, notwithstanding that very large rewards were offered. At length, a bailiff who had some private pique against him, to act as an additional stimulant, undertook the dangerous enterprize—succeeded in dogging him to his retreat, and on his attempting to snatch a pistol to defend himself, shot him through the head, and put an end to the career of a real Irish Dare-Devil.

A. M’C.

Perverse Conduct of Man.—Among the many properties of human nature which almost exceed comprehension, comes the parsimony of the rich and the extravagance of the poor. Some rich men spare to-day, as if they feared starving tomorrow, and the indigent often consume in an hour what they may feel the want of for a week. These properties are the more unaccountable, because parsimony is chiefly found to predominate in aged people, who may expect death every day, and extravagance chiefly in the young, who may reasonably hope to live many years; as if old people hoard money because they cannot want it, and young ones throw it away because it is necessary to their subsistence.

Friends and Enemies.—While we value the praise of our friends, we should not despise the censures of our enemies; as from the malice of the latter we frequently learn our faults, which the partiality of the former led them to overlook or conceal.

Ghosts Everywhere.—Could anything be more miraculous than an actual authentic ghost? The English Johnson longed, all his life, to see one, but could not, though he went to Cock-lane, and thence to the church-vaults, and tapped on coffins. Foolish doctor! Did he never, with the mind’s eye, as well as with the body’s, look round him into that full tide of human life he so loved? did he never so much as look into himself? The good doctor was a ghost, as actual and authentic as heart could wish; well nigh a million of ghosts were travelling the streets by his side. Sweep away the illusion of time; compress the three-score years into three minutes: what else was he—what else are we? Are we not spirits, shaped into a body, into an appearance, and that fade away again into air and invisibility? This is no metaphor; it is a simple scientific fact: we start out of nothingness, take figure, and are apparitions; round us, as round the veriest spectre, is eternity; and to eternity minutes are as years and æons. Where now is Alexander of Macedon?—does the steel host that yelled in fierce battle-shouts at Issus and Arbela remain behind him: or have they all vanished utterly, even as perturbed goblins must? Napoleon too, and his Moscow retreats and Austerlitz campaigns—was it all other than the veriest spectre-hunt, which has now, with its howling tumult that made night hideous, flitted away? Ghosts!—there are nigh a thousand millions walking the earth openly at noontide; some half-hundred have vanished from it, some half-hundred have arisen in it, ere thy watch ticks once. Generation after generation takes to itself the form of a body, and, forth issuing from Cimmerian night on heaven’s mission, APPEARS. What force and fire is in each he expends: one grinding in the mill of industry; one, hunter-like, climbing the giddy Alpine heights of science; one madly dashed in pieces on the rocks of strife, in war with his fellow; and then the heaven-sent is recalled; his earthly vesture falls away, and soon even to sense becomes a vanished shadow. Thus, like some wild-flaming, wild-thundering train of heaven’s artillery, does this mysterious mankind thunder and flame, in long-drawn, quick-succeeding grandeur, through the unknown deep. Thus, like a God-created, fire-breathing spirit-host, we emerge from the Inane, haste stormfully across the astonished earth, then plunge again into the Inane. But whence? Oh, heaven, whither? Sense knows not; faith knows not, only that it is through mystery to mystery, from God and to God.—Carlyle’s Essays.

The Metropolis.—London in length is nearly 8 miles, its breadth 3, and its circumference 26. It contains above 8,000 streets, lanes, alleys, and courts, and more than 65 different squares. It has 246 churches and chapels, 207 meeting houses for Dissenters, 43 chapels for foreigners, and 6 synagogues for Jews—making 502 places of public worship. The number of inhabitants during the sitting of Parliament is estimated at 1,250,000. In this vast city there are upwards of 4,000 seminaries for education, 10 institutions for promoting the arts and sciences, 122 asylums for the indigent, 17 for the sick and lame, 13 dispensaries, 704 charitable institutions, 58 courts of justice, 7,040 professional men connected with the various departments of the law. There are 13,300 vessels trading to the river Thames in the course of a year, and 40,000 waggons going and returning to the metropolis in the same period, including their repeated voyages. The amount of exports and imports to and from the Thames is estimated at £66,811,922 sterling annually, and the property floating in this vast city every year is £170,000,000 sterling. These circumstances may be sufficient to convince us of the amazing extent and importance of the capital of the British empire.

No person can be happy without friends. The heart is formed for love, and cannot be satisfied without the opportunity of giving and receiving affection. If we love others, they will love us; and in order to have friends, we must show ourselves friendly. Hence it is every one’s duty to cultivate a cheerful and obliging disposition. It is impossible to be happy without it.

He who would do justly to all men, must begin from knowing to be not unjust to himself.