Maureen Dhu, the Admiral's Daughter. a Tale of the Claddagh of Galway
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m *t ' MAUKEEN DHU, THE ADMIRAL'S DAUGHTER. A TALE OP THE CLADDAGH OF GALWAY. By Mes. J. SADLIER, »»» " AUTHORESS OF "HEIRESS OP KJLORGAN ; " BLAKES AND FLANAGANS,, "WILLIE BURKE;" "NEW LIGHTS;" "THE CONFEDERATE CHIEF " " " TAINS ; " ELINOR PRESTON ; " BESSIE CONWAY ; "THE CON- FESSIONS OF AN apostate;" "CON o'regan ; " "OLD " " AND NEW ; " THE HERMIT OF THE ROCK ; " TnE " OLD HOUSE BT THE BOTNE ; " aUNT HONOK'S KEEPSAKE ; " &C, &C. ~^A "^>c^> NEW YORK : D. & J. SADLIER & CO., 31 BARCLAY STREET. MONTREAL W-sCOR. „ NOTRE DAME AND ST. FRANCIS XAVIER (fSB. ' ;•: : '--"' , - ; . r : V \ , f.Jj f> , •»<= ,* ••• *; • • •• • • .* * ••••' -. * • • • • • 1 • « '«« ••• • • • • ••• l< • ••'•• „« . ••• •" • •• *• si • • • • »• • *< • • • • • • • • • • » • • '.. • 5"*?* 5 3 I PREFACE The primitive and singular people who form the subject of this story have long been an object of curiosity to the eth nologist. and of special interest to the traveler who chanced upon them in their remote sea-washed home. Age after age have they dwelt by the side of Galway Bay. asserting and main- taining supreme control over its fishing—a right which is theirs by a prescription older than the oldest tradition. For ages long they have been the near neighbors of the people of Gal- way, yet are even now as distinct from them, as jealous of their intrusion amongst them, and as strongly marked in their pecu- liarities as they ever were. Time, and the resistless force of modern "progress," maybe silently softening down some of the prejudices to which they were so obstinately wedded, and effacing some of the broadest lines of separation between them and their neighbors, but, intrenched in the stronghold of their harsh patois, and entirely devoted to their hereditary avocations, the main features of their character remain the same as in ages past. My object in laying the scene of the present story amongst this fishing community is, I think, sufficiently manifest. Many years have passed away since a good Dominican father, who bad spent years of his life in the old convent near the Claddagh, IV PREFACE. gave me an account of the singular people who dwell there, with whose ways h3 was so thoroughly conversant that his description was a truly graphic one. I was much interested at the time, and, at the suggestion of an esteemed reverend friend who was present, I promised to throw together, some day, in the form of a story, the scattered and fragmentary details thus afforded me of an isolated people whose origin is lost in the night of Time. From Hall's " Ireland," and other works treating of that country, I obtained yet other particulars of the Claddagh and its inhabitants, from all of which I have endeavored to make up as faithful a picture thereof as a stranger could be expected to produce. That I have to some extent succeeded, I have reason to hope, from the testimony of those who, unlike myself, have had the oppor- tunity of studying the manners and customs of the Claddagh people in their daily life. I have brought prominently out the religious element which underlies the groundwork of their re- markable character, and the moral and social virtues so com- mon amongst them, all the more noteworthy for the wild calling which generally makes men lawless and licentious. I have shown these Claddagh men brave and bold, yet kindly, generous, and humane—their women chaste as the snow, and proof against all temptation, notwithstanding the uncommon personal attractions for which many of them are remarkable, at least in youth. Hoping that '• Maureen Dhu," and the men and women of the Claddagh, will make friends for themselves as they ought to do, I leave them and my book to the reader's calm judgment M. A. 8 New York, October, 1869. MAUREEN DHU, THE ADMIRAL'S DAUGHTER. CHAPTER I. Reader, were you ever in Galway, the queer, quaint, foreign-looking old capital of the Western province of Ireland,—the half-Norman, half-Spanish " City of the Tribes ?" If you were not, you can hardly conceive any idea of its singularity. An old, old Irish city, with few or no Irish features—more Spanish than Irish in its general character, at least in the style of its antique architecture, yet elaborately adorned with the heraldric devices of the first Nor- man settlers, whose stronghold it was. From end to end of the narrow, irregular stieets may be seen old mansions, many of them in tolerably good pre- servation presenting the arched doors and gateways, the do ible entrances, and flagged courtyards, the balconies and other exterior characteristics of old Spain luring the Moorish period. It is a city in 6 MAUREEN DHU, which the old and the new are strangely, oddly mingled—a city abounding in striking contrasts, and full of romantic associations. What a mine of the richest romance lies hidden away in its storied lanes and purlieus, amongst the mouldering mansions of departed Blakes and Lynches, Brownes and Frenches, and all the others of the fourteen Norman tribes who for centuries lived like princes within the strong walls of Galway, defended by their fourteen towers, cor- responding to the number of the tribes ! Some future Scott may work this mine for the entertainment of another generation—less than a master-hand would but spoil the glorious work. For us, we have but to glance at the noble old city as we pass through its crowded marts, its quiet, old-fashioned courts, and the rows of half-fortified houses which form many of its streets. Without the ancient walls, but still within the borough limits, about a quarter of a mile from the city, on the banks of the Galway river, a little above the point where it merges in the noble bay, there is a portion of the West suburbs to which we would conduct the reader, albeit that the place is none of the most attractive. On the side of along, low hill running parallel with the river may be seen a dense and confused mass of thatched cottages, ap- parently huddled together without any idea of order or regularity, yet stretching so far along the river and up the hill that you cannot help calling the place a town. It has, indeed, two good piers running out *\nto the stream so as to form a safe harbor, and river THE ADMIRAI/S DAUGHTER. 7 craft of every size are moored here and there along the shore, while scores of smaller ones are drawn np npon the strand. At first sight neither streets nor lanes are visible, but a closer inspection shows that the town contains both in any number. Narrow and irregular they are to be sure, and sorely puzzling, no doubt, to the luckless stranger who finds himself threading their maze, yet there they are, crossing and recrossing, running hither and thither in every direc- tion, and in every possible shape, in utter defiance of geometry and mathematics. The houses are all pretty nearly of the same class, mud walls, many of them neatly whitewashed, moreover, and straw- thatched roofs. In some instances, and they are not few, there is a grotesque imitation of the Spanish houses of the neighboring city, and it is a curious sight to see the arched doorway and double entrance with its little paved court under such a roof. It is, indeed, the quaintest and queerest of suburban villages, and has little, except its singularity, to attract attention. The atmosphere is, however, so strongly impregnate with odors from the finny tribes that few strangers will, from choice, remain any time in the village, yet if the natural repugnance to fishy smells be so fai overcome as to visit the interior of the cottages, they will be found neat and comfortable to an uncommon degree. The fishing tackle, too, which, amongst the less tidy housewives, might encumber the small dwell- ing, is here carefully ranged on the outer walls, giving universal token of the trade and calling of the vil 8 MAUREEN DHU, lagers. The low ground between the village and the river presents the appearance of a miniature dock- yard, where boats of all sizes are either in process ot building or undergoing repairs. The little qways are clean and handsome, and there is nothing squalid in the appearance of the hardy, active men so busily employed about the boats. The attire of fishermen is pretty much the same, all the civilized world over, and those of whom we speak have little to distinguish them from others of their calling. A little more brawny and of more muscular proportions they may be, and they are certainly a good-looking race of men take them as you will—fine, bold athletic fellows as you would meet in a summer-day's travel. But go up amongst their cottages, dear reader,—make your way, if you can, through the labyrinthine maze of the narrow streets and lanes, and look at the wives and daughters of these stalwart fishermen in their coarse stuff bodices and skirts of blue or red, their dark features shaded by the colored cotton kerchief, which, on working days, forms the head-dress of young and old, and you will say that they are the finest women you have seen, take them for all in all. A striking uniformity of costume prevails amongst them, and the same physical traits are more or less common to all. They speak a language which neither you nor I can understand. Even the Irish-speaking people of the surrounding country have enough to do to hold parlance with them, notwithstanding that their language is a patois of the old Gaelic.