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Title: The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. 46, May 15, 1841

Author: Various

Release date: August 14, 2017 [eBook #55357]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Brownfox and the Online Distributed Proofreading
        Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from
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                        THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL.

         NUMBER 46.      SATURDAY, MAY 15, 1841.      VOLUME I.

[Illustration: DANGAN CASTLE, COUNTY OF MEATH.]

The ruins of Dangan Castle, situated about two miles of the village of
Summerhill, in the county of Meath, stand in the centre of an extensive
demesne, once richly wooded, and within which, formerly spread the placid
waters of a small but handsome lake, since drained. The grounds have been
almost entirely deprived of their ancient timber, but still retain some
traces of their former beauty. The remains of this once noble mansion,
of which our engraving represents the rere, consist of a massive keep,
which, with outworks long since destroyed, formed the ancient fortress:
attached to this is the mansion built in the Italian style, the front
of which is surmounted by a heavy and richly-moulded cornice. Of this
part of the building (apparently erected about the beginning of the last
century) nothing but the outer walls remain, and the interior space, once
formed into ample hulls and chambers, has been converted into a flower
garden.

It would perhaps be impossible now to determine with any degree of
certainty the age to which the original erection of this castle should be
referred, its ancient architectural peculiarities having been completely
destroyed in the endeavour to make it harmonize with the buildings of
more recent erection, which have been appended to it, and the property
having changed masters so often; but it is doubtless of no small
antiquity.

Dangan was anciently part of the possessions of the Fitz-Eustace family,
who were long distinguished for loyalty and valour, as a reward for which
the title of Baron of Portlester was bestowed upon Rowland Fitz-Eustace
in the year 1462, by King Edward IV. In the fifteenth century it came
into the possession of the Earl of Kildare, by marriage with Anne, the
daughter and heiress of Sir Nicholas Fitz-Eustace of Castle-martin; but
in the same century a daughter of this earl married Christopher Plunket,
son of the Baron of Killeen, and in her right he succeeded to this and
several other estates.[1]

Dangan afterwards (but at what time we are uncertain) became the property
of the De Wellesleys or Westleys, alias Posleys, a family of the greatest
antiquity and of Saxon origin, who had settled in the county of Sussex
in England, one of whom was standard-bearer to King Henry II., in which
capacity he accompanied that monarch into Ireland, and was rewarded for
his services with large grants of lands in the counties of Meath and
Kildare. From this illustrious ancestor sprang a numerous and respectable
family, who received several distinguished marks of royal favour: and
we find that in the year 1303 “Wulfrane de Wellesley and Sir Robert
Percival were slain the second day before the calends of November”
fighting against the Irish; and that John de Wellesley, who received from
King Edward II. a grant of the custody of the Castle of Arden, was the
first of the family created a Baron of Parliament, these honours being
conferred on him as a reward for having in the year 1327 overthrown the
Irish of Wicklow in a battle in which their leader David O’Toole was
taken prisoner.

But it is the modern, not the ancient history of Dangan Castle, which
gives to it a more than ordinary degree of interest. Within those now
silent chambers and tottering walls, on the 1st of May 1769, the great
Duke of Wellington, the illustrious hero of Waterloo, commenced that
auspicious life which was afterwards so replete with honour and renown.
The grandfather of this truly great man, Richard Colley, succeeded to
the possession of this castle and estate by bequest from his cousin
Garrett Wesley or Wellesley, in the year 1728. He was descended from
the Colleys of the county of Rutland, of whom the first who came to
Ireland was Walter Colley, who migrated hither in the reign of King
Henry VIII., and he settling at Kilkenny, was in the year 1537 appointed
Solicitor-General, which office he resigned in 1546, but was soon after
created Surveyor-General of Ireland. Richard Colley with the estate also
took the name of Wesley or Wellesley, and was created Baron of Mornington
in the year 1746. His son and successor Garret Colley Wellesley was on
the 20th of October 1760 created Viscount Wellesley of Dangan, and Earl
of Mornington. This nobleman died on the 22d of May 1781, leaving seven
sons, the eldest of whom, Richard, second Earl of Mornington, was created
Marquis Wellesley on the 2d day of December 1799; and the fifth was no
less a person than the present Arthur Duke of Wellington, who was born
(an extraordinary coincidence) in the same year which gave birth to
Napoleon Bonaparte. In the year 1788 he received his first commission as
ensign in the 73d regiment, and after going through the regular gradation
he was presented with the lieutenant-colonelcy of the 33d regiment in
1793. Step by step he advanced, till, raised to the high pinnacle of rank
on which he now stands, he commanded the British army in twenty-eight
victoriously fought fields, the final one of which was the glorious
battle of Waterloo, which victory added the last and most illustrious
military laurel to the wreath which crowns his noble brow. In the year
1811 he was made Earl and Marquis of Wellington, and Duke of Ciudad
Rodrigo and Vittoria, and in 1814 he was created Duke of Wellington and
Marquis of Douro, and received from Parliament a grant of £300,000.
All subjects bordering on religion or politics being forbidden in our
publication, we must say nothing of the subsequent life of the Duke of
Wellington; and shall only add, that there exists not an unprejudiced man
in Ireland of any sect or party who does not feel a pride in the honour
of being a fellow-countryman of the hero of Waterloo.

While the most eminent descendant of its ancient noble owners was
thus progressing to distinction and renown, Dangan Castle was as fast
hastening to decay and desolation; it was sold by the Marquis Wellesley
to Colonel Burrows, by whom it was underlet to Mr Roger O’Connor, during
whose tenancy it was completely destroyed by a conflagration, not
supposed to be accidental; and if report be true, it was converted (at no
distant period) into a place of concealment for plunder, and a resort of
thieves.

                                                              J. G. S. P.

[1] The preceding statement of our correspondent appears to be somewhat
erroneous; Dangan was the seat of the Wellesley family at an earlier
period.--ED.




A LEGEND OF CLARE;

BY J. GERAGHTY M’TEAGUE.


The author of a “Tour in Connaught” has some curious and interesting
remarks and notes concerning the almost universal belief of the
inhabitants of the West, that not only in former ages was this our native
island much more extensive than at present, but that the land of ERIN
itself is but a mere corner, a little _slice_ as it were of that which
was once an immense continent. He adduces in support of this, and gravely
and seriously too, by the bye, many most ingenious proofs; nor does he
at all discard or hesitate to bring forward the more “circumstantial
evidence” of tradition to his aid. He relates too the popular story about
O’Brassil, or the Enchanted Island, and another of the island of the
“Bo-Fin,” (or “Fiune,”) _the fair cow_, which had lain beneath the waves
spell-bound.

There are points in which all these traditions concerning the islands
undoubtedly agree; but there is one among them remarkable on many
accounts, which has excited my own curiosity more than once; and as it
certainly confirms rather than invalidates the opinions of “C. O.” on the
subject, I will relate it, perhaps with less hesitation.

But, oh ye geologists! who by a single word (if ye should so will it)
can overset all our theories--who have but to say “it is impossible,”
when all our speculations, nay, even our firmly rooted belief, would be
scattered, like the Atlantic wave, against the cliffs of Moher--oh, spare
us! Let not the delicious, the hallowed lands of “legendarie lore” be
invaded by one of you heartless monsters! Let us but picture to ourselves
the sturdy figure of this investigator of pyrogeneous and heterogeneous
stratifications, hammer in hand, attending to the account of some magic
island or delightful land which once stretched out far and wide before
him; he listens with apparent earnestness. But beware!--suddenly he is
seen to stoop; he cracks off with his execrable instrument a little
“specimen” of some overhanging romantic-looking cliff; anon he shakes his
head portentously, and out comes an awful volley from his well-stored
vocabulary of Greek derivatives, and Latin or German jaw-smashers. Out
upon him, the horrid creature!

Our tale, nevertheless, may be as _geologically_ true as the strictest of
the Bucklands or Sedgwicks could desire; we hope so too; but may he, if
one _should_ do us the honour to read our story, at least dissemble for
the nonce, and _pretend_ to be as ignorant and as happy as ourselves!

The land of Kylestafeen extended in former ages more than a hundred
miles to the westward of the present boundary of Ireland. There was also
contiguous to it, to the northward, the far-famed island of O’Brassil,
besides others of inferior note. But Kylestafeen surpassed them all,
not only in superior extent, but in the fertility of its soil, and in
the number and capacity of its magnificent harbours; near which, under
the wise and gentle sway of its beneficent monarch, flourished splendid
cities. Its lovely valleys were watered by the clearest rivers, and in
the grandeur of its mountains, and the beauty of its plains, by no other
country under heaven could it be rivalled.

We have mentioned the character of that king who at the period of our
tale ruled in Kylestafeen. At this time King Loydann was extremely old,
and wished to relieve his mind, for the remainder of his life, from the
cares of royalty. So, on a certain day, he made a formal abdication of
his throne and power to his two sons, pursuant to an old-established
law in that country, which ordained, that in case the king should leave
behind but two sons, they were to reign conjointly.

But ere the king finally gave up the important charge to his sons, he
called them to him, and bound them by the most solemn vows to conform to
the following promise:--That if at any moment one of them should by any
act of his own incur the displeasure of his brother, he should at once be
chained, and his sides pierced by two daggers. “This dreadful oath I now
exact from you, my sons,” said Loydann, “in order that you never may be
liable to the slightest disagreement, for the remembrance of it will for
ever hold you both united; and if, in whatsoever you do, you consult each
other, the most remote possibility of such a contingency will be avoided.”

Though the strict propriety of this act may be considered questionable,
Loydann did it from the best motives; and this too will be apparent,
if we consider the respective characters of the two brothers Fahune
and Niall; the elder, Fahune, being of a remarkably fiery, and, as his
father feared, unforgiving disposition, whilst the younger was famed for
gentleness; both were brave and impetuous, yet of dissimilar tempers and
habits.

Now, at the time this act of abdication was performed, a series of
rejoicings took place at the court of Kylestafeen, which were conducted
with great magnificence. The days were spent in the manly recreations
of the chase, while the dance and the strains of music enlivened their
evenings’ entertainments.

Amidst a number of lovely forms which graced the court of Kylestafeen,
the daughter of the Prince of O’Brassil was peculiarly conspicuous. The
inhabitants of both countries had ever been on the most amicable terms,
and by the request of Teartha, the young and graceful sister of the
princes, Corgeana had been invited to pass the pleasant hours of summer
at Kylestafeen, and to be present at the festivities.

Corgeana was dangerously beautiful. Both brothers had frequent
opportunities of converse with her; both admired her, struck with the
elegance of her manners, and her many accomplishments; each, in short,
wished her for his own! Yet it was only towards Niall, that, on her part,
a corresponding affection existed; the imperious spirit of Fahune was
uncongenial to her. But unfortunately Fahune thought even now that she
was his, and that he had but to signify his intention, and her compliance
would succeed, while at the same time she had already listened to and
favourably received the solicitations of his brother!

But now the dreary winter approached, and the time came when Corgeana
should depart from the hospitable shores of Kylestafeen. Their galleys
were prepared, and all being ready, they took their farewell of her, and
she sailed for the island of O’Brassil.

Not many days elapsed, ere from the distant horizon a vessel was
seen approaching the harbour. It anchored, and bore the distressing
intelligence that a horde of Northern pirates were daily expected to land
at the island of O’Brassil, while the messenger delivered a most earnest
request that both the brothers would immediately send assistance to his
master, and help to drive away the treacherous Northmen from their coasts.

But this duty the brothers resolved to execute themselves. Accordingly,
the numerous galleys of war belonging to Kylestafeen were speedily
equipped, and the full number of warriors allotted to each. The evening
before the fleet set sail, a conference was held, and the plans of action
arranged, after which the brothers separated, each to his galley; for it
had been determined at the council that the larger number of the ships,
commanded by Fahune, should scour the seas in pursuit of the enemy, while
that portion headed by Niall should proceed at once to O’Brassil, to
join forces with the king. This duty too did Niall undertake the more
willingly, as it gave him hope of a more speedy meeting with his beloved
Corgeana.

On the third day after the last-mentioned division of the fleet had
sailed from Kylestafeen, two strange sails were plainly observed from the
deck of Niall’s galley, and it soon became too evident that the ship in
which Corgeana had sailed had been taken by the Northmen, and that she
was even now in their power; for one of the vessels was hers, and the
other was also well known, for it was the favourite galley of Froskos,
the most rapacious and cruel savage of them all!

Fearful was the suspense and the agony of mind which Niall endured, till
he had overtaken this hostile ship and its prize; for though sure of
success, and that the pirate would be captured, yet he knew not what the
crafty chief might have already perpetrated. However, having surrounded
them with his vessels, the pirates at once perceived the futility of
resistance, and accordingly surrendered to Niall. And who can imagine
the mutual joy experienced by these lovers, when they saw that each was
safe! In triumph did Niall at once make sail for O’Brassil, and land with
his precious freight, where he was received by the old king with every
demonstration of gratitude and joy.

“And why,” said Niall to Corgeana, “why now should we delay our nuptials?
Shall they not at once be celebrated? Oh, return with me as one of the
Queens of Kylestafeen!”

But the king her father would have overruled this, in his opinion, too
precipitate determination, and would at least have waited till the
arrival of Fahune and his squadron; but Niall would not listen, and it
was then determined that if Fahune made not his appearance for the space
of seven days, the marriage should take place.

“And, surely,” said Niall to himself, “the vow which I have made
can never interfere with this! How could my marriage, at which he
would rejoice, possibly be displeasing to him? When he considers the
circumstances of the case, he will, even though I do infringe the strict
letter of the oath in not consulting him, cheerfully forgive me.”

Seven days had now passed, but Fahune was even then chasing and capturing
numerous fleets of pirates. At length the day arrived, and the ceremonies
of marriage were performed amidst banquetings and joyful celebrations.

And now it was judged prudent that they should set sail for Kylestafeen;
and a great feast having been given to Niall and Corgeana, and to the
whole of the squadron, they took their departure and put to sea.

O’Brassil was but three short days’ sail at farthest from Kylestafeen,
and they hoped soon to reach their destination, when lo! a dreadful
tempest suddenly sprang up, which dispersed the fleet in all directions.
The most expert seamen were completely foiled in all their efforts; the
vessel laboured and creaked as if she would each moment fall to pieces,
and was driven, being quite unmanageable, far away out to sea, and for
many days and nights were they drifted onwards with irresistible fury.

But at length the storm abated, the waves gradually subsided, and after
another day the wind was completely gone. The gallant vessel, which
had heretofore been impelled with terrific violence, now, with all her
sails unfurled, hardly crept along; and the men, who had been almost all
constantly employed during the hurricane, had retired below.

And now the grey dawn was just apparent in the east, when all on board
were suddenly aroused by the cries of the watchman, who proclaimed that
a vessel with the flag of Kylestafeen was rapidly approaching, and would
almost immediately be alongside. Niall arose, and looking forth, saw
with the rest that it was the galley of his brother, while he fondly
anticipated a joyful reunion with Fahune, when they could relate their
several exploits and dangers. But how were these hopes about to be
realised?

The vessels neared each other, and greetings were exchanged. A boat was
now lowered from the side of Niall’s galley, and he went on board that
of his brother. After some inquiries and salutations, Fahune questioned
Niall concerning his voyages and adventures. This Niall commenced, and
Fahune seemed to rejoice, and a smile, as if of triumph, crossed his
features when he learnt that Corgeana was safe; but when Niall proceeded,
and told of the nuptials, the countenance of Fahune became as pale as
death.

“Miserable man,” said he, “prepare to die! You have broken through our
solemn vow; you have taken this step without having consulted me; this
alone would have condemned you, but to this dreadful dereliction you have
added a still greater insult--you have supplanted me in the affections
of one to whom I was engaged. But she”----he could utter no more; he
was convulsed with passion. Niall was now about to reply, but Fahune
shouted, “Let him be gagged! Let me not hear a word from him whom once I
loved; for the sound of his voice might tempt me to relent. Executioners,
at once bind him to the mast.” It was done; and in another moment, by
Fahune’s directions, his sides were deeply pierced by the fatal daggers!

When the dreadful tale was related to the bereaved Corgeana, she lay for
some hours insensible; but when at length she awoke, it was but to be
compelled to endure still greater miseries. The sentence of Fahune was at
once put in execution, namely, that Corgeana should be turned adrift in a
small open boat, with a scanty supply of food, and left to perish, while
the body of her husband should also be cast along with her into the boat.

But whilst the implacable Fahune was sailing towards the shores of
Kylestafeen, and even now repented of his cruelty and rashness to those
who were once beloved by him, Corgeana was wafted over the trackless
ocean in her frail bark, alone, and wretched; yet still that bark was
guided by myriads of fairy beings, who were even then conducting her to a
haven of safety.

When the seventh weary night had passed, and daylight appeared, Corgeana
found herself quite close to shore, but in what part of the world she
was, she knew not. Her little boat was quietly drifted to the beach. She
landed, and walking forth, soon found herself in view of a palace of
magnificent appearance, to which she bent her steps.

Now, on entering this beautiful structure, which appeared to be
ornamented with the utmost splendour, she was surprised exceedingly
when she heard sounds of lamentation and loud wailing issuing from the
apartments and halls. Advancing, she discovered an immense multitude
of chieftains of noble mien, together with a number of youths and
attendants, who, wearied, exhausted, and covered with wounds, reclined on
couches; many, who seemed more severely hurt, uttering piercing shrieks,
while others appeared binding up their wounds, and administering the
comforts of medicine.

She watched these proceedings, unnoticed, for some time, and her
attention was more particularly attracted to one venerable personage,
who, going round to all, and bathing their wounds, at once relieved them
from their agony; and, strange to say, she remarked many who appeared to
possess but few signs even of existence, at once restored to the use of
their faculties.

At length she was perceived by him who was apparently a king or chief,
who demanded her history, and an account of her adventures. This she
commenced. Her great beauty, the violence of her grief, as well as the
interest which the relation of her sufferings occasioned, caused the
emperor (for so he was) to take compassion on her, and he listened
intently to her narrative. But when Corgeana came to that part of
her mournful tale in which she spoke of the cruelty of Fahune, and
how her husband had been, as she supposed, inhumanly murdered, the
emperor manifested signs of extreme impatience, and summoning his
attendants--“Hasten,” said he, “to the beach, and bring hither, without
delay, the body of the prince.” This was at once done, and they returned,
bearing Niall in their arms.

“And now,” said the emperor, “we will leave him with our venerable
physician, whose skill was never known to fail, and whom we have
remembered often to recall to existence many who have been considered for
ever as lost to us.”

When the physician was taken to the apartment in which the body of Niall
lay, a smile of hope might have been seen upon his countenance, and he
proceeded to exert his utmost skill. After he had himself applied his
far-famed remedies, he left for a moment, to deliver his opinion to the
emperor his master.

But in that moment had Niall recovered! Faintly and slowly his eyes
opened, and he looked around. But what were then his thoughts?
Remembering the dreadful scene in the galley of his brother, even _then_
he saw the executioners plunging the daggers into his side, and the words
of Fahune still rang in his ears: again he looked, and thought he was in
another world--that region, where he had often heard the spirits of the
brave would congregate. And then of Corgeana!--but was this her voice he
heard? Was she too murdered?

The physician now entered, and all was soon explained; his great skill
had indeed been successful. Who can picture the joy experienced by Niall
and Corgeana when they found themselves so unexpectedly re-united!

The recovery of Niall was exceedingly rapid; he frequently expressed his
gratitude to his benefactors, and on one particular day, being engaged
in conversation with the emperor, he ventured to address him thus. “How
comes it, oh king, that you, the undisputed sovereign of this magnificent
and powerful empire, are so frequently dejected, and that the nobles of
your court give way to melancholy in your presence? Your very musicians
appear to have forgotten the strains of gladness, and the raven of
despondency seems to overshadow the royal court with its foreboding
wings! Is it thus, oh king? No; it must be my own gloomy thoughts which
possess me, and render me insensible to happiness!”

“That which you now remark is but too true,” said the emperor; “how can
we be otherwise, when our dominions though extensive, and our army though
possessed of courage, are each moment assailed by a cruel and still more
powerful enemy, who live in an adjoining island, and against whom we
have never been able to obtain any decided victory? If we attack them,
we are repulsed with disgrace and shame, while they are continually
making inroads, and devastating our beautiful country. Even the day which
brought you in so extraordinary a manner to our shores, was the last of
our encounters with them, and on which most of our bravest commanders
were dreadfully mangled by our cruel opponents, and I myself was wounded;
to-morrow, however, we intend to renew our armaments against them; but,
alas! all will be unavailing, for ever since I came to this throne, and
even in the reign of my father, have we been thus oppressed. It is true,
we possess an elixir of inestimable value, the effect of which is almost
immediately to heal the most dreadful wound, and to which, applied by our
chief physician, you doubtless owe the preservation of your life; but on
the other hand, our enemies have on their side auxiliaries still more
powerful; so that, while we are all but invulnerable, they are completely
invincible; and though our commanders are preparing with all possible
alacrity, and seem confident of success, I for one already too well know
the result!”

“Nay, speak not thus, oh king!” said Niall; “I myself, for I am now
recovered, will accompany you; I perhaps was accounted brave in my own
country, and will not spare my blood, if occasion require, in your
service; allow me then a number of men under my command, and, with the
help of the gods, we will certainly cause these formidable foes to yield
to our superior prowess.”

“Niall,” answered the emperor, “your words are as those of the brave;
but did you know, or could you catch a single glance of our enemy,
your utterance would be frozen with dread; horror would be on your
countenance; and if you were not immediately overwhelmed, you would turn
and fly as we do.”

“And wherefore, oh king?” said Niall.

“Listen!” said the emperor. “These giants, for they far exceed us in
ordinary stature, are commanded by one who excels them in even a greater
degree in height, in strength, and in the awfulness of his appearance:
he marches at the head of the army to the accompaniment of music--oh,
accursed music!--the first sound of which, though at a distance, has
the dreadful effect of at once stupifying us, and causing an unnatural
drowsiness to come over us; we fall, and he, marching up with his men,
cuts us to pieces like sheep. But, oh Niall! how can I describe or
give you the slightest idea of the horrid hag, this giant’s wife? One
sight of her is sufficient to unnerve the most courageous mortal; afar
off she is seen; her eyes are as glowing coals; her feet like enormous
plough-shares, tearing up the earth before her as she walks; whilst her
hair, trailing far behind her, is like as many harrows following in her
track; lurid flames issue from her nostrils! Frightful indeed is she to
behold; but should a glance of her accursed eye meet yours, no earthly
power could for an instant save you from immediate death! She is followed
by a horde of demons, who I hear are her children, imps that spare no
life, but revel in slaughter and mischief. Such are our enemies!”

“Your description horrifies me,” said Niall; “nevertheless, let us summon
all our energies to the encounter, and I trust I may bear my part in the
struggle with fortitude.”

And now the day arrived when this resolution was to be tested. The
emperor himself took Niall into his armoury, and bade him choose any
kind of weapon which that place could afford; but of all the implements
of war collected there, none seemed to suit his purpose but one small
sword with a sharp point, with which having equipped himself, he prepared
for the engagement. They embarked, and soon reached the hostile island,
where immediately the giants collected, headed by the chief and his
wife, who now seemed invested with double their usual horrors. As they
advanced, his friend the emperor frequently called on Niall to retrace
his steps, but this he firmly refused. The fatal languor was now fast
overcoming him, but, drawing his small sword, he continued pricking
himself in various places, which prevented his sinking altogether to
sleep. Meantime the giant came on, trusting as usual for conquest to the
power of the music; however, he was for once mistaken. Feigning sleep,
Niall lay still, in the best position for his purpose; and when the
giant, confidently marching on, had come up, and stooped over to kill
him, he seized his opportunity, and at one blow severed his head from his
shoulders.

Fortunately this brave act was not witnessed by the old hag his wife, who
had delayed by the way; it is enough for us to know that the same success
here also attended him, and she fell a sacrifice also to his valour. Nor
was this all: the emperor came up with his army, and an easy conquest
soon decided the long-continued hostilities. Niall was immediately given
by the emperor the sovereignty of the island, and took possession of the
giant’s palaces, where he and Corgeana long lived in mutual love, and,
crowned with the enjoyment of all happiness, dwelt in perfect amity with
the emperor their benefactor. He built an immense number of the most
beautiful galleys, and maintained an army disciplined and instructed
completely in all the arts of war.

But we must now hasten to the conclusion of our legend, though volumes
might be filled by a recital of the well-remembered acts of Niall the
good, and Corgeana his queen.

They held, then, frequent conversations about Fahune, and were accustomed
to recount the many dangers they had experienced, when on a certain day
Niall appeared to be engaged in the deliberation of some affair of more
than ordinary importance. His brows were bent as in earnest thought, and
even tears were observed on his cheek. This was remarked by Corgeana, who
gently demanded what new design he was arranging.

To this Niall answered, “Oh, Corgeana, my awful parting from Fahune
my brother frequently recurs to me; I begin to fear his life is most
unhappy; he thinks me dead, and the injustice of his mad decree must
certainly be fearfully apparent to him also; it is therefore my
intention, shouldst thou approve of it, to prepare an expedition to
revisit the land of my birth, my beloved Kylestafeen; and wouldst thou
not also wish to see again the lovely O’Brassil? I am now powerful, and
would go attended by a large fleet; so that if Fahune should still be
vindictive, I might be supported; nor should I dread his power, or that
of any other monarch.”

To this Corgeana most willingly assented, and resolved herself
to accompany the squadron, which having been made ready in an
extraordinarily short space of time, put to sea.

Niall well remembered the direction that dreadful tempest had taken which
had conveyed him to Fahune, and accordingly sailed onwards. Not many
days elapsed ere the men reported with joy that land was in sight. It
was true; and all assembled on the decks of their galleys, hailing with
shouts their near approach.

But lo! what is that which now rivets their attention, and causes them to
stand like men bereft of reason, gazing on the mountains of Kylestafeen?
And nearer and nearer they approached, and fixed their eyes in silent
wonder on the awful scene; those hills, the shapes of which were at
once recognized by Niall and Corgeana, were too apparently sinking into
the ocean! Still nearer they sailed, and the noble bay at the head of
which was the city, lay before them. They came close to the shore, and
now was their astonishment intense. That beautiful valley through which
the gentle stream took its course was quickly enlarging its boundaries;
and while it sank, the waters from the ocean were madly rushing in,
causing devastation to all. Hundreds of human forms were wildly rushing
to and fro, and those who were able to reach the shore screamed loudly
for assistance, or for boats to carry them away; while all who could
not profit by this mode of escape climbed the summits of the highest
mountains, and escaped immediate death, only to endure a protraction of
their sufferings.

In the midst of this confusion and these dreadful scenes, many galleys,
densely crowded with beings, put off from shore. Niall anxiously looked
for his brother; nor was he destined to be disappointed, for Fahune,
observing the strange ships, immediately directed his course to the
galley of his brother, where a reconciliation having at once taken place,
all re-assembled to witness the consummation of this most dreadful
catastrophe.

Gradually, yet continually, did the waves close round thousands of the
helpless inhabitants, and innumerable multitudes of animals were buried
beneath them, while all who could avail themselves of boats took to the
sea, though these could hardly tell in what direction to proceed, and
hundreds miserably perished.

Soon did night veil the awful vision from the eyes of the fleet; and
next morning, a wild waste of turbulent waters was all that could be
perceived where once was the glorious and happy land of Kylestafeen, and
a long dark line of frowning cliffs was the only boundary visible in the
direction of that lovely country.

We may add the general belief, that a remnant of those saved were cast on
shore, and from their descendants we still can learn even the modes of
government once practised in Kylestafeen.

But where _now_ is Kylestafeen?

It remains under a spell--its inhabitants are still employed in
constructing fleets and armaments; even now,

    “In the wave beneath you shining,”

the “towers of other days” may yet be seen. Every seven years, “this
delightful land” may be seen in all its primeval beauty, as it appeared
before it sank; and if, reader, at that critical moment when all smileth
before thee, thou canst drop but one particle of earth on any portion of
it, it will be for ever re-established.

And this, reader, is the legend of Kylestafeen, from which thou canst
draw thine own moral.




ORIGIN AND MEANINGS OF IRISH FAMILY NAMES.

BY JOHN O’DONOVAN.

Third Article.


SURNAMES AND FAMILY NAMES.

Dr Keating and his cotemporary Gratianus Lucius have asserted, on the
authority of the ancient Irish MSS, that family names or surnames first
became hereditary in Ireland in the reign of Brian Boru, in the beginning
of the eleventh century. “He [King Brian] was the first who ordained that
a certain surname should be imposed on every tribe, in order that it
might be the more easily known from what stock each family was descended;
for previous to his time surnames were unfixed, and were discoverable
only by tracing a long line of ancestors.”[2]

This assertion has been repeated by all the subsequent Irish writers, but
none of them have attempted either to question or prove it. It seems,
however, generally true, and also that in the formation of surnames at
this period, the several families adopted the names of their fathers
or grandfathers. It would appear, however, from some pedigrees of
acknowledged authenticity, that in a few instances the surnames were
assumed from remoter ancestors, as in the families of the O’Dowds and
O’Kevans in Tireragh, in which the chiefs from whom the names were taken
were cotemporary with St Gerald of Mayo, who flourished in the seventh
century, and in the family of O’Neill, who took their surname from Niall
Glunduv, monarch of Ireland, who was killed by the Danes in the year
919. It is obvious also from the authentic Irish annals, that there
are many Irish surnames now in use which were called after ancestors
who flourished long subsequent to the reign of Brian. But it is a fact
that the greater number of the more distinguished Irish family names
were assumed from ancestors who were cotemporary with this monarch; and
though we have as yet discovered no older authority than Dr Keating for
showing that surnames were first established in Ireland in his time,
I am satisfied that authorities which would prove it, existed in the
time of Keating, for that writer, though a very injudicious critic, was
nevertheless a faithful compiler. Until, however, we discover a genuine
copy of the edict published by the monarch Brian, commanding that the
surnames to be borne should be taken from the chieftains who flourished
in his own time,--if such edict were ever promulgated, we must be content
to relinquish the prospect of a final decision of this question. At
the same time it must be conceded that the evidences furnished by the
authentic annals and pedigrees in behalf of it are very strong, and may
in themselves be regarded as almost sufficient to settle the question.

It appears, then, from the most authentic annals and pedigrees, that the
O’Briens of Thomond took their name from the monarch Brian Boru himself,
who was killed in the battle of Clontarf in the year 1014, and that
family names were formed either from the names of the chieftains who
fought in that battle, or from those of their sons or fathers:--thus,
the O’Mahonys of Desmond are named from Mahon, the son of Kian, King of
Desmond, who fought in this battle; the O’Donohoes from Donogh, whose
father Donnell was the second in command over the Eugenian forces in the
same battle; the O’Donovans from Donovan, whose son Cathal commanded
the Hy-Cairbre in the same battle; the O’Dugans of Fermoy from Dugan,
whose son Gevenagh commanded the race of the Druid Mogh Roth in the same
battle; the O’Faelans or Phelans of the Desies from Faolan, whose son
Mothla commanded the Desii of Munster in the same memorable battle, as
were the Mac Murroghs of Leinster from Murrogh, whose son Maelmordha,
King of Leinster, assisted the Danes against the Irish monarch.

The Mac Carthys of Desmond are named from Carrthach (the son of
Saerbhreathach), who is mentioned in the Irish annals as having fought
the battle of Maelkenny, on the river Suir, in the year 1043; the
O’Conors of Connaught from Conor or Concovar, who died in the year 971;
the O’Molaghlins of Meath, the chiefs of the southern Hy-Niall race, from
Maelseachlainn or Malachy II, monarch of Ireland, who died in the year
1022; the Magillapatricks or Fitzpatricks of Ossory from Gillapatrick,
chief of Ossory, who was killed in the year 995, &c. &c.

From these and other evidences furnished by the Irish annals, it appears
certain then that the most distinguished surnames in Ireland were taken
from the names of progenitors who flourished in the tenth or beginning of
the eleventh century. But there are instances to be met with of surnames
which had been established in the tenth century having been changed to
others which were called after progenitors who flourished at a later
period, as O’Malroni of Moylurg, to Mac Dermot, and O’Laughlin, head
of the northern Hy-Niall, to Mac Laughlin. There are also instances of
minor branches of great families having changed the original prefix O
to Mac and Mac O, or Mac I, when they had acquired new territories and
become independent families, as O’Brien to Mac I-Brien, and Mac Brien
in the instances of Mac I-Brien Arra, Mac Brien Coonagh, and Mac Brien
Aharlagh, all off-shoots from the great family of Thomond; and O’Neill to
Mac I-Neill Boy, in the instance of the branch of the great Tyrone family
who settled in the fourteenth century eastward of the river Bann, in the
counties of Down and Antrim.

This is all that we know of the origin of Irish surnames. Sir James Ware
agrees with Keating and Gratianus Lucius that surnames became hereditary
in Ireland in the tenth or beginning of the eleventh century; and adds,
that they became hereditary in England and France about the same period.

Irish family names or surnames then are formed from the genitive case
of names of ancestors who flourished in the tenth century, and at later
periods, by prefixing O, or Mac, as O’Neill, Mac Carthy, &c. O literally
signifies grandson, in which sense it is still spoken in the province
of Ulster; and in a more enlarged sense any male descendant, like the
Latin _nepos_: and Mac literally signifies son, and in a more extended
sense any male descendant. The former word is translated _nepos_ by all
the writers of Irish history in the Latin language, from Adamnan to Dr
O’Conor, and the latter, _filius_; from which it is clear that it is
synonymous with the Welsh prefix _Map_ (abbreviated to _Ap_), and with
the Anglo-Norman _Fitz_, which Horne Tooke has proved to be a corruption
of the Latin _filius_. Giraldus Cambrensis latinizes the name of the King
of Leinster, Dermot Mac Murchadh, _Dermitius Murchardides_, from which it
may be clearly perceived that he regarded the prefix Mac as equivalent to
the Greek patronymic termination _ides_. The only difference therefore
to be observed between O and Mac in surnames is, that the family who
took the prefix of Mac called themselves after their father, and those
who took the prefix O formed their surname from the name of their
grandfather. Ni, meaning daughter, was always prefixed to names of women,
as O and Mac meant male descendants; but this usage is now obsolete.

It is not perhaps an unlikely conjecture that at the period when surnames
were first ordered to be made hereditary, some families went back
several generations to select an illustrious ancestor on whom to build
themselves a name. A most extraordinary instance of this mode of forming
names occurred in our own time in Connaught, where John Mageoghegan,
Esq. of Bunowen Castle, in the west of the county of Galway, applied
to his Majesty King George IV. for licence to reject the name which
his ancestors had borne for eight hundred years from their ancestor
Eochagan, chief of Kinel Fiacha, in the now county of Westmeath, in the
tenth century, and to take a new name from his more ancient and more
illustrious ancestor Niall of the Nine Hostages, monarch of Ireland
in the fourth century. His majesty granted this licence, and the son
of John Mageoghegan now called John Augustus O’Neill, that is, John
Augustus, DESCENDANT of Niall of the Nine Hostages. The other branches of
the family of Mageoghegan, however, still retain the surname which was
established in the reign of Brian Boru as the distinguishing appellative
of the race of Fiacha, the son of Niall of the Nine Hostages, and the
ancestor from whom the Mageoghegans had taken their _tribe_ name.

From the similarity and almost complete identity of the meanings affixed
to the words O and Mac in surnames, it might be expected that they should
be popularly considered as conferring each the same respectability on the
bearer; yet this is far from being the case, for it is popularly believed
in every part of Ireland that the prefix O was a kind of title among
the Irish, while Mac is a mark of no distinction whatever, and that any
common Irishman may bear the prefix Mac, while he must have some claims
to gentility of birth before he can presume to prefix O to his name. This
is universally the feeling in the province of Connaught, where the gentry
of Milesian descent are called O’Conor, O’Flahertie, O’Malley, &c.; and
the peasantry, their collateral relatives, Connor, Flaherty, Malley.
All this, however, is a popular error, for the prefix O is in no wise
whatever more respectable than Mac, nor is either the one or the other
an index to any respectability whatever, inasmuch as every single family
of Firbolgic, Milesian, or Danish origin in Ireland, is entitled to bear
either O or Mac as the first part of their surname. It is popularly known
that O’Neill was King of Ulster, and O’Conor King of Connaught, and hence
it is assumed that the prefix O is a title of great distinction; but it
is never taken into consideration that O’Hallion was the name of the
Irish Geocach or beggar who murdered O’Mulloy of Feara-Keall in the year
1110, or that _Mac_ Carthy was King of Desmond or Mac Murrough was King
of Leinster! It is therefore a positive fact that the prefixes O and Mac
are of equal import, both meaning male descendant, and that neither is
an indication of any respectability whatever, except where the pedigree
is proved and the history of the family known. To illustrate this by an
example: The O prefixed to my own name is an index of my descent from
Donovan, the son of Cathal, Chief of the Hy-Figeinte, who was killed
by Brian Boru in the year 977; but the Mac prefixed in the surname Mac
Carthy is an indication of higher descent, namely, from Carrthach, the
great-grandson of Callaghan Cashel, King of Munster, whose descendants
held the highest rank in Desmond till the civil wars of 1641.

It would be now difficult to show how this popular error originated, as
the meanings of the two prefixes O and Mac are so nearly alike. It may,
however, have originated in a custom which prevailed among the _ancient_
Irish, namely, that, for some reason which we cannot now discover, the O
was never prefixed in any surname derived from art, trade, or science,
O’Gowan only excepted, the prefix Mac having been always used in such
instances, for we never meet O’Saoir, O’Baird; and surnames thus formed,
of course never ranked as high among the Irish as those which were formed
from the names of chieftains.

It may be here also remarked, that the O was never prefixed to names
beginning with the word _Giolla_. I see no reason for this either, but
I am positive that it is a fact, for throughout the Annals of the Four
Masters only one O’Giolla, namely, O’Giolla Phadruig, occurs, and that
only in one instance, and I have no doubt that this is a mere error of
transcription.

Another strange error prevails in the north of Ireland respecting O and
Mac, viz. that every name in the north of Ireland of which Mac forms the
first part, is of Scotch origin, while those to which the O is prefixed
is of Irish origin; for example, that O’Neill and O’Kane are of Irish
origin, but Mac Loughlin and Mac Closkey of Scotch origin. But it happens
in these instances that Mac Loughlin is the senior branch of the family
of O’Neill, and Mac Closkey a most distinguished offshoot from that of
O’Kane. This error had its origin in the fact that the Scotch families
very rarely prefixed the O (there being only three instances of their
having used it at all on record), while the Irish used O tenfold more
than the Mac. This appears from an index to the genealogical books of
Lecan, and of Duald Mac Firbis, in the MS. library of the Royal Irish
Academy, in which mention is made of only three Scotch surnames beginning
with O, while there are upwards of two thousand distinct Irish surnames
beginning with O, and only two hundred beginning with Mac.

Another strange error is popular among the Irish, and those not of the
lowest class, namely, that only five Irish families are entitled to have
the O prefixed; but what names these five are is by no means agreed upon,
some asserting that they are O’Neill, O’Donnell, O’Conor, O’Brien, and
O’Flaherty; others that they are O’Neill, O’Donnell, O’Kane, O’Dowd,
and O’Kelly; a third party insisting that they are O’Brien, O’Sullivan,
O’Connell, O’Mahony, and O’Driscoll; while others make up the list in
quite a different manner from all these, and this according to the part
of Ireland in which they are located; and each party is positive that
no family but the five of their own list has any title to the O. None
of them would acknowledge that even the O’Melaghlins, the heads of the
southern Hy Niall race, have any claims to this prefix, nor other very
distinguished families, who invariably bore it down to a comparatively
late period. On the other hand, it is universally admitted that any Irish
family from Mac Carthy and Mac Murrough, down to Mac Gucken and Mac
Phaudeen, has full title to the prefix Mac; and for no other reason than
because it is believed to have been a mark of no distinction whatever
among the ancient Irish. This error originated in the fact that five
families of Irish blood were excepted by the English laws from being held
as mere Irishmen. But of this hereafter.

There is another error prevalent among the Irish gentry of Milesian
blood in Ireland (which is the less to be excused, as they have ample
opportunities of correcting it), namely, that the chief or head of the
family only was entitled to have the O prefixed to his name. This is the
grossest error of all, for there is not a single passage in the authentic
annals or genealogical books which even suggests that such a custom
ever existed amongst the ancient Irish chieftain families, for it is
an indubitable fact that every member of the family had the O prefixed
to his surname, as well as the chief himself. But a distinction was
made between the chief and the members of his family, in the following
manner:--In all official documents the chief used the surname only, as
O’Neill, O’Donnell, &c. In conversation also the surname only was used,
but the definite article was frequently prefixed, as _the_ O’Neill, _the_
O’Brien, &c., while in annals and other historical documents in which
it was found necessary to distinguish a chief from his predecessors or
successors, the chief of a family was designated by giving him the family
name first, and the christian or baptism name after it in parenthesis.
But the different members of the chief’s family had their christian names
always prefixed as at the present day.

I have thus dwelt upon the errors respecting surnames in Ireland, from
an anxious wish that they should be removed, and I trust that it will
be believed henceforward that the Mac in Irish surnames is fully as
respectable as the O, and that, instead of five, there are at least two
thousand Irish families who have _full title_ to have the O prefixed to
their surnames.

[2] Translation from original Latin MS.

       *       *       *       *       *

Many men would have more wisdom if they had less wit.

       *       *       *       *       *

Women are like gold, which is tender in proportion to its purity.

       *       *       *       *       *

Excessive sensibility is the foppery of modern refinement.




IRELAND’S WEALTH.


    Oh do not call our country poor,
      Though Commerce shuns her coast;
    For still the isle hath treasures more
      Than other lands can boast.

    She hath glorious hills and mighty streams,
      With wealth of wave and mine,
    And fields that pour their riches forth
      Like Plenty’s chosen shrine.

    She hath hands that never shrink from toil,
      And hearts that never yield,
    Who reap the harvests of the world
      In corn or battle field.

    She hath blessings from her far dispersed
      O’er all the earth and seas,
    Whose love can never leave her--yet
      Our land hath more than these.

    Her’s is the light of genius bright,
      Among her children still;
    It shines on all her darkest homes,
      Or wildest heath and hill.

    For there the Isle’s immortal lyre
      Sent forth its mightiest tone;
    And starry names arose that far
      On distant ages shone.

    And want among her huts hath been;
      But never from them past
    The stranger’s welcome, or the hearts
      That freely gave their last.

    She hath mountains of eternal green,
      And vales for love and health,
    And the beautiful and true of heart--
      Oh these are Ireland’s wealth!

    And she is rich in hope, which blest
      Her gifted ones and brave,
    Who loved her well, for she had nought
      To give them but a grave.

    Through all her clouds and blasted years,
      That star hath never set;
    Will not our land arise and shine
      Among the nations yet?

                                         F. B.




EXTRAORDINARY DETECTION OF MURDER.

NO. II.


Scarcely the most youthful reader needs now to be informed that for an
indefinite period our country has unfortunately seldom been without bands
of misguided men, more or less numerous, combined for illegal purposes,
and who have from time to time wrought much ruin and misery to themselves
and others, whether they went under the denomination of rapparees,
defenders, peep-o’-day-boys, steelboys, whiteboys, united Irishmen,
carders, houghers, thrashers or ribbonmen, the last of the species--may
they prove the _last_ indeed! The manifold causes that produced those
lawless and destructive combinations the nature of this Journal wisely
precludes us from meddling with; their objects were perfectly apparent.
We therefore pass both by with a single remark, namely, that since the
disastrous and desolating insurrection and invasion of ’98, there has
been no person of weight or property connected with any of the numerous
confederacies that have continued unceasingly to distract the country,
with the exception of that which involved the fate of the wild but
amiable visionary Robert Emmett--certainly not in Connaught; nor would
it appear that in any one of them since was any serious opposition to
_government_ contemplated. In fact, the conspirators being, with but
few exceptions, invariably of the very lowest class, their object,
however guilty, was limited to the obtainment of personal advantage, the
gratification of private revenge, or petty opposition to tithes and the
local authorities.

In 1806, the combinators were designated in Connaught, _thrashers_. Their
vengeance seemed to be chiefly wreaked on the haggards of such gentlemen
or middlemen as excited the wrath or suspicions of the brotherhood;
and frequently, where at evening had been seen a large and well-filled
haggard, nought was visible in the morning but empty space, the wasted
grain and the _then_ valuable hay being scattered over the adjacent
fields and roads, often to a considerable distance.

Tirawley, the northern barony of Mayo, was at this period infested with a
gang of thrashers of peculiar daring and activity, the most prominent of
whom was Murtagh Lavan, usually termed “Murty the Shaker,” a _soubriquet_
which he derived from his remarkable dexterity in scattering the contents
of the various haggards; and for a considerable period this reckless gang
was a terror to the entire barony. But there is, fortunately, neither
union nor faith among the wicked. After having been the principal in
numberless acts of destruction and lawlessness, Murty became a private
informer against guilty and innocent, in consequence of the large rewards
offered by government for the detection of the offenders, and had given
in the names of a large number of accomplices, as well as of those who
he knew were likely to be suspected, when his career was cut short by a
violent death.

Secretly as his informations were given, it appears it was discovered
that he had become an informer; and in consequence, a band of the most
desperate of his former accomplices planned and accomplished his murder
in a singularly daring manner. His wife and himself were guests at a
christening when he was called out: she followed him, and in her presence
he was assailed by a number of blackened and partly armed men, one of
whom felled him with a hatchet like an ox in the slaughter-house. He was
never allowed to rise, for the others trampled on him when down, and
struck him with various weapons. The wretched woman fled into a corner,
and remained there an unharmed spectatress of the whole murderous scene,
and, what has rarely occurred in similar circumstances, without making
any attempt to fling herself between her husband and the murderers.

Immediately on information being forwarded to the government of the
audacious murder of the informer, proclamations offering large rewards
for the discovery and conviction of the perpetrators were issued;
great activity was exhibited by the magistrates and the yeomanry, put
under permanent pay, as is well remembered in the localities where
they were stationed, the inhabitants of which were soon left minus
their geese and hens with miraculous rapidity, after the arrival of
their _defenders_. The yeomen! God forgive us: dark as is our theme,
so strangely does levity mingle with gloom and even with sorrow in our
national temperament, that a host of humorous recollections come rushing
on us, called up by the name, as we recall our boyish enjoyment in
witnessing some of their inspections. Their motley dress--their arms--the
suggaun often binding a dislocated gun--and their discipline--oh, their
discipline! Why, reader, believe us or not as you please, we knew of a
captain of yeomanry standing in front of his corps, during an inspection
of all the yeomen in the district by a distinguished general officer,
with his drawn sword held with great gallantry in his _left_ hand, till
his serjeant-major besought him in a whisper to change it to the other
hand, until the general should have passed him. But we say avaunt to the
evil temptation that has beset us at so awkward a time, to descant on
yeomanry frolics, though we promise the readers of the Journal a laugh at
them on some more fitting occasion.

Five of the murderers were apprehended and executed together in 1806;
and, some years afterwards, one of them, named M’Ginty, whose troubled
conscience would not permit him to remain in England, whither he had fled
after the commission of the crime, and who was apprehended the very night
after his return to this country, died a fearful death. Indeed, in our
experience of public executions we never witnessed a more terrible one.
He was a man of a large, athletic frame, and when on the lapboard ramped
about with frightful violence, got his fingers several times between
the rope and his neck, and attempted to pull down the temporary beam,
and drag out the executioner with him, the latter of which objects he
nearly effected. He spurned at all exertions to induce him to forgive
his prosecutors and captors, and was in the act of denouncing vengeance
against them, dead or alive, when he was flung off.

We remember a curious point was saved in this man’s favour after
conviction, when an arrest of judgment was moved on the ground that the
principal evidence against him (an accomplice) was himself, after having
been tried, and sentenced to capital punishment, and, therefore, being
dead in law, could not be received as a competent witness. The objection
was, however, overruled by the judges in Dublin, on the ground that the
man had received a pardon, and could be, therefore, considered a living
witness again.

It was twenty-four years after the murder of Murty, namely, in the spring
of 1830, that a woman was making her way across a stream running through
a gentleman’s grounds in the county of Sligo, when she was prevented by a
caretaker, who obliged her to turn back.

“_Skirria snivurth_,” exclaimed the woman with bitter earnestness, “but
don’t think, _durneen sollagh_ (dirty Cuffe) but I know you well; an,
thank God, any way ye can’t murther _us_, as ye did Murty Lavan long ago.”

Her words were heard by a policeman who chanced to be angling along the
stream, and who promptly brought her into the presence of a magistrate,
where, after the policeman had stated what he heard, she attempted at
first to draw in her horns and retract her words.

“Well, my good woman,” said the magistrate, “what expressions were those
you used just now?”

“Ou, only some _ramask_ (nonsense), yer honour.”

“Did you not accuse a man of murder?”

“In onough, I dunno what I sed when the spalpeen gev us the round, and
the vexation was upon us.”

“You must speak to the point, woman.”

“Wethen sure yer honour wouldn’t be after mindin’ what an oul’ hag sed
when she was in the passion.”

“Policeman, repeat the expressions exactly.”

The policeman repeated his former statement.

“Now swear the hag, and I warn her if she doesn’t tell the whole truth, I
will myself see her transported.”

The woman, now thoroughly frightened, admitted that she knew the person
who prevented her from crossing the stream to be Cuffe or Durneen,
who was charged with having been the principal in the murder of Murty
the Shaker. Cuffe was accordingly apprehended, and having been fully
identified by Murty’s wife, who was still in existence, having continued
a pensioner of the Mayo grand jury since her husband’s murder, was
committed to the Mayo jail, to the astonishment and regret of his
employer.

The extraordinary part of Cuffe’s case seems to us not by any means that
he should have been detected after the lapse of twenty-four years, but
it does seem a singular fact indeed, that, notwithstanding a description
of him in the Hue and Cry as the person who had struck the mortal blow
with the hatchet, and the large rewards offered for his apprehension,
he should have remained undiscovered for such a protracted period, so
immediately adjacent to the scene of his crime. Most of our readers are
aware that Sligo adjoins Mayo--nay, the barony of Tirawley, in which
the murder was perpetrated, is only separated by the river Moy from the
county of Sligo, so that one portion of the town of Ballina is in Mayo,
and the other in Sligo; and yet, in all probability, were it not that
Providence directed the steps of the woman to that stream for the first
and last time in her life, he might have remained there undiscovered to
the end of his natural life, which could not then be far distant, his
head being completely silvered at the time of his apprehension.

While in prison, both before and after conviction, Cuffe’s conduct, as it
had been all along prior to his detection, was peaceful, obliging, and
amenable, comporting much better with a pleasant and rather benevolent
countenance, in which there did not seem to be a single line indicative
of an evil disposition, than with the terrible crime he had been the
principal in committing.

On the morning after M’Gennis had committed the extraordinary suicide
detailed in a former number, in the same cell with him, Cuffe’s gaze
continued to be fastened, as if by fascination, on the body while it
remained in the cell, and his countenance wore an expression resembling a
smile of gratified wonder, as he frequently exclaimed in an under tone,
“didn’t he do it clever?” He strongly denied, however, as was before
stated, having witnessed the suicide, or known anything of its being
intended.

His own death was calm and easy: in fact he seemed to have died without
a struggle; and so little did his punishment after such a lapse of years
seem to be considered as a necessary atonement to justice, that we heard,
during his execution, Murty’s own brother, who was among the spectators,
use the expression, that it was a pity so many lives should be lost for
_such a rascal_.

We should have remarked that on the morning of his execution he requested
of the benevolent and intelligent inspector to allow him a tea breakfast.
Indeed, it is a curious consideration that animal gratification seems
to be the predominant object with a large proportion of persons on the
eve of execution, when hope becomes as nearly extinct as it _can_ become
while life remains. In general, in such cases among the lower class,
there is a petition for a meat dinner, or a tea breakfast, or both--a
petition which, we need scarcely say, is in Ireland generally granted.

We recollect an instance where two persons under sentence were
breakfasting together, just previous to their execution, having, among
other materials, three eggs between them, when one of them, having
swallowed his first egg rapidly, seized upon the other with the utmost
greediness, while his companion eyed him with a sickly smile that seemed
to say “you have outdone me to the last.”

On another occasion we remember to have seen two convicts on a cart with
the ropes about their necks, who were to be executed about fourteen miles
from the prison, one of them bearing with him in his fettered hands the
remains of a loaf he had been unable to finish at his breakfast, but
still begged permission to take with him, as he purposed to eat it, and
did so, on his way to the gallows.

                                                                       A.

       *       *       *       *       *

EVIL INFLUENCE OF FASHION.--Never yet was a woman _really_ improved
in attraction by mingling with the motley throng of the fashionable
world. She may learn to dress better, to step more gracefully; her head
may assume a more elegant turn, her conversation become more polished,
her air more distinguished; but in point of _attraction_ she acquires
nothing. Her simplicity of mind departs; her generous confiding impulses
of character are lost; she is no longer inclined to interpret favourably
of men and things; she listens, without believing, sees without
admiring; has suffered persecution without learning mercy; and been
taught to mistrust the candour of others by the forfeiture of her own.
The freshness of her disposition has vanished with the freshness of her
complexion; hard lines are perceptible in her very soul, and crows-feet
contract her very fancy. No longer pure and fair as the statue of
alabaster, her beauty, like that of some painted waxen effigy, is tawdry
and meretricious. It is not alone the rouge upon the cheek and the false
tresses adorning the forehead which repel the ardour of admiration; it
is the artificiality of mind with which such efforts are connected that
breaks the spell of beauty.--_Mrs Gore._

       *       *       *       *       *

IMPOSSIBILITY OF FORGETTING.--In these opium ecstacies, the minutest
incidents of childhood, or forgotten scenes of later years, were often
revived. I could not be said to _recollect_ them; for if I had been told
of them when waking, I should not have been able to acknowledge them
as parts of my past experience. But, placed as they were before me, in
dreamlike intuitions, and clothed in all their evanescent circumstances
and accompanying feelings, I _recognised_ them instantaneously. I was
once told by a near relative of mine, that having in her childhood fallen
into a river, and being on the very verge of death but for the critical
assistance which reached her, she saw in a moment her whole life, in its
minutest incidents, arrayed before her simultaneously, as in a mirror,
and she had a faculty developed as suddenly, for comprehending the whole
and every part. This, from some opium experiences of mine, I can believe.
I have indeed seen the same thing asserted twice in modern books, and
accompanied by a remark which I am convinced is true, viz, that the dread
book of account which the Scriptures speak of, is in fact _the mind of
each individual_. Of this at least I feel assured, that there is no such
thing as _forgetting_ possible to the mind; a thousand accidents may and
will interpose a veil between our present consciousness and the secret
inscriptions on the mind; accidents of the same sort will also rend away
this veil; but alike, whether veiled or unveiled, the inscription remains
for ever; just as the stars seem to withdraw before the common light of
day, whereas, in fact, we all know that it is the light which is drawn
over them as a veil, and that they are waiting to be revealed when the
obscuring daylight shall have withdrawn.--_Confessions of an Opium Eater._

       *       *       *       *       *

There are few roses without thorns, and where is the heart that hides not
some sorrow in its secret depths?

       *       *       *       *       *

    Printed and published every Saturday by GUNN and CAMERON, at
    the Office of the General Advertiser, No. 6, Church Lane,
    College Green, Dublin.--Agents:--R. GROOMBRIDGE, Panyer Alley,
    Paternoster Row, London; SIMMS and DINHAM, Exchange Street,
    Manchester; C. DAVIES, North John Street, Liverpool; JOHN
    MENZIES, Prince’s Street, Edinburgh; and DAVID ROBERTSON,
    Trongate, Glasgow.







*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL, VOL. 1 NO. 46, MAY 15, 1841 ***


    

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