ARTHUR SEVERUS O'TOOLE.

THE O'TOOLES,

.ANCIENTLY LORDS OF

POWERSCOURT (FERACUALA.N), FERTIRE,

AND IMALE;

WITH SOME NOTICES OF FEA_GH 1IAO HUGH O'B.YRNE,

CHIEF OF CLA.N-RANELAGH.

BY

J O H N O'T O O L E, E SQ., tu

CHIEF OF HIS NAME.

Virtute et Fidelita.te.

DUBLIN: A. M. SULLIVAN, 90 MIDDLE ABBEY-STREET.

DIS. MANIBUS ..

TO THE SHADE OF THE REVEREND

FATHER F--, S.J.,

WHlLOl\I l\1Y VENERATED PRECEPTOR IN THE COLLEGE

OF CLONGOWES ;

.AND TO THAT OF' THE REVEREND

FATHER n·--,

FORMERLY PASTOR OF THE PARISH OF SAINT MICHAEL,

RATHDRUM, IN THE COUNTY OF WICKLOW.

I UFFER, DEDICATE, AND CONSECRATE THE FOLLO,\'ING PAGES,

J. O'T.

PREFACE.

EVERY man's life·has its epoch. :Th-line dates from the close of July, 183-, when I completed my academic career in the College of Clongowes. That, indeed, is to n1e a mernorable day, for it terminated the mild restraint to w·hich I had been subject for n1ore than seven years, ancl allowed me to exchange the scene of my childhood and dawning manhood for the ,vide, wide world . .Strange as.it 1nay appear, I was not at all anxious to leave the place, but rather calculated on spending another year there to perfect myself in the Italian, French, and German languages, which I could easily have done by conversing with some of the revere1id Fa,thers, who had passed 1nany years on the Continent, and were familiar with each of these tongues. ''I too," said I to myself, '' will visit Rome and other co1itinental capitals ; but how . can I do so profitably :without a colloquial acquaintance with their languages ? Here, then, I'll put in another year, and devote every n1oment of it to linguistic studies ; for although .language may be said to be a system of signs, I'd deem it unbecoming to depend on the latter for intercourse with society. 1.Y~ute eloquence has no charms for me." While revolving this project n1y venerated friend and earliest preceptor, Father F---, entered my room, and askecl 1110 to accompany hhn in a walk. ",Vhither would you go, kind father P' I de­ manded. "To the old grave-yard of Boclenstown, where we will be sheltered fro1n the heat," was his reply. Silently and slowly we passed· through the lawn, and then crossed the stile into the grave-yard, or more christianly, "Campo Santo"-holy fielcl-as the Italians call such places. On reaching it we seated ourselves on a rudely lettered to1nb-stone, over which the long drooping branches of an a.ged willow cast a solemn shade, and screened us from the fierce rays of the sun. '' John," said n1y companion, breaking the silence we both m:1intained during our walk, "this holy field suggests serious reflections-indeed, I " know no atmosphere so well suited to purify thought as this .. It PREFACE.

"we are respiring ; and how that you are about to enter on the "cross-road of life, it occurred to me that I could not do better '' than take leave of you here among the me1norials of the dead. "Yonder in the college your childhood and boyhood lie buried ; "should it please Heaven to grant you a long life, you may "perhaps, after n1any years have elapsed, revisit the scene of "your youth, but not till then will you be able to fully realise " the truth of my words." " Father," said I, " perhaps we are '' not to part so soon, for if I am allowed to have n1y own will '' I'd gladly spend another yea~ in Clongowes, and devote it to '' the study of modern languages, in order that I n1ay be able to "travel the Continent with advantage and ease." " John," re­ ,' plied Father F ___:___, " that cannot be. The rector and his "council have been made aware of your project, and they one "and all refused to entertain it." "And why," I asked, "have "they decided thus?" "The why," said Father F--, ''is I "easily given. "\Vhen your intention was made known to the . "rector he could hardly suppress his an1azement. ' What !' he 1 '' exclaimed, ' keep John O'Toole another year in Clongowes ! ''John O'Toole, who has won every highest pren1ium we had to '' bestow at the close of each academic year since first he came '' among us ! No, gentlemen, I will not listen to it ; were I to do "so you'd discover that your heretofore pupil would soon "become a professor, if not better, n1ost certainly the equa.1 of "any of us. In fact, I don't see what n1ore we could teach him, "and the probability is tha,t a lad of his extraordinary capacity "and attain1nents would set about teaching ourselves. :Father "F---, I am conscious that you are and have always been '' much concerned for him. I know that you are justly proud· "of his unequalled success. To him, indeed, you have been the '' intellectual father, and n1ethinks I 1nay congratulate you as "the poet Claudian did Honorius on the glo1·ious career of "that emperor's son- Aspice, completur votum, jam natus adaequat Te meritis, et quod magis est optabile, vincit.'* "Now, John," continued my good preceptor, "be reconciled to * Lo thy prayer is hea,rd, thy Son not only equals but surpasses thee...... FREFACE.. 111 your fate, and dismiss that project at once." I made no answer, but, fixing my eyes on an uninscribedgrave at our feet, communed with myself this wise-Here's the first of your disappointments, the first thwarting of your hopes-well, it can't be helped, there's no alternative but resignation. But Father F--­ cut short my musing by asking me did I know who was· the tenant of the noteless grave, and when I told hin1 that I did nothe resumed, as well as I can remember, thus-" John, the 1nan who '' moulders there was famous in his day; you doubtless have '' heard of him, for who is there that has not heard of Wolf Tone 1 '' Yes, the mortality, or, as we used to call it in the schools, the "exn·viae of unfortunate Tone rest in that grave. He was ~, born int.his neighbourhood, and his friends thought it only "right that Bodenstown should keep his ashes." "I wonder," said I, "they raised no monu1nent to mark the spot." "They durst not," replied Father F---, '' £or the government of the "time would have laid a heavy hand upon them had they done '' so. And, after all, perhaps it was providential that his grave · '' should remain undistinguishable among the many by which it '' is surrounded. The pious aspiration of our old friend Virgil, " Tumulum facite tumulo carmen, "* "was not sung for hnn ; for indeed, however much his political "career may deserve our praise and sy1npathy, its termination " disentitled hiin to any record among those who died a Ch~is­ " tian death. He perished by his own hand, and thus sinned '' against the natural and the revealed law ; nay, more, he died " an egotist and coward, closing his brief span of existence with '' an execrable crime. Even in the brief interval between the ~, bar and the scaffold he might have left posterity an example '' of courage and resignation, but, bewildered by the thought of '' death, he chose' to anticipate rather than patiently wait its '' coining, as every true Christain should do. His was a b:1dly "tempered soul, and an over-heated brain, but neither can ex'. '' tenuate the enormity of his crime. Let us forget him, or, at. '' all events, his detestable exit from this world. Now tell me.

* Raise a stone with a verse. lV PREFACE.

" John, what do you conceive to be the best and most enduring "legacy a man can bequeath to those he leaves behind him here "below1" "This," I answered, "is a subject that I never yet " considered in any of its many phases ; allow me to remark, '' however, that thousands die every day in the year-I mean '' the poor-who have nothing at all to bequeath. Others, and '' they are the minority, think that hoarded wealth, a portion of "which they devise for alms-deeds, is the noblest of legacies, "while many, many others regard fame, or what is commonly " termed renown, as the grandest bequest they can transmit to "their successors. I have known some people who bequeathed "nearly all they possessed to themselves by expending large sums '' in erecting sumptuous tombs with glowing epitaphs, eulogiz­ '' ing them for virtues to which they had not the shadow of a " claim. I may also add that I have met others who had nothing '' to bequeath but an enormous quantity of empty bottles, debts '' that are not likely to be paid, and estates that are now figuring "in the Court of Bankruptcy." " John, I must interrupt and '' set you, right," said Father F--- ; '' no one goes through "this life, no matter how humble his circumstances, who '' may not, if he be right-minded, bequeath something truly '' valuable to his own kindred and society at large. The poor "man can leave his successors or children the legacy of good "example-honesty, self-denial,. whereby I mean abstinence "from everything that degrades and debases-the porter that "stupifies, and the whiskey that frenzies and makes him forget '' God, Heaven and Hell. Can he not bequeath a life-lesson of "thrift, cleanliness, and honourable industrial energy 1 You " are wrong, therefore, in stating that the poor man has nothing "to bequeath. Now, as for hoarding up 1noney, and directing '' that a portion of it should be given in alms, allow me to impress '' on you, as a truth never to be forgotten, that most of those '' who exhaust all their energies in accumulating riches are often '' little 1nore than trustees to spendthrift kinsfolk, who in an '' incredibly short time dissipate what falls to their share. As " for the injunction regarding the portion of it to be given in '' charity, I will barely remark that the testator would have PREFACE, V

" done much better by dispensing it during his own life-time to "deserving objects, since Heaven is better pleased with what "we ourselves do than with what we do through others, or, if I may 'say so, vicariously. 'Walk,' says our Saviour, 'while you "have light,' or in other words do what you ought to do before '· the hand grows rigid and the darkness of the grave enshrouds '' you. As for fame and renown, which are almost synonymous, "I don't see how a man can, strictly speaking, bequeath either " to his legatees, since both are purely personal. Those who '' pride themselves on the splendid reputation of their prede­ '' cessors, are in 1nany insfamces beggars wearing stolen clothes ; " but yet I will adn1it that good renown is preferable to glory, '' and is the salt that preserves the most commendable of '' our actions from corruption. Even so, renown is fleeting, "capricious, and does not constitute happiness. The ever-on­ " ward river of time has swept away, and engulfed myriads whose "renown seemed to defy all accidents and promised to be ever­ " lasting. As for individuals who waste health and riches in a " continuous sensual swill, they are hardly worth talking of ; '' and as for those who build their own monuments· and write '' their own epitaphs, an analysis of their motives will show '' that, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, they are actuated '' by pride, ostentation, and selfishness. Indeed, nothing can '' surpass the selfishness of the man who, thoroughly persuaded " of his own n1oral and intellectual worthlessness, and convinced '' that none will raise a stone to mark the spot where he festers, '' says to himself, I'll show my independence of posterity by '' erecting my own 1nonument." "Now, John, you have not given a satisfactory answer to my "question, nor an1 I surprised that you have not done so, for " you are too young and too inexperienced to solve such a "problem. Hearken now to what I am going to say, and never "allow _my words to fade from your memory. The best and "most enduring legacy or monument a man can leave behind him '' is a good book, and nothing can excel the sweet, pure delight "which a man experiences in composing one. "\Vhat have not "good books done for humanity 1 Look at the volu1ne of the . Vl PREF.A.CE.

" Evangelists ; take up the ' Imitation,' and ask yourself could '' all the potent~tes who ever ruled the destinies of this world "have done for the hu1nan family even a fractional part of what "those authors l1ave .achieved? You will admit that they "could not. Ab, dear friend, there's many a sore trial, and "1nany· a sad vicissitude to overtake you in life-for such is the ".common lot ; but believe me that when you stand alone in " the world, disconsolate and 1nourning the loss of friends and "acquaintances carried off by deat~ the stoutest staff on which '' you can lean as you follow them to the to1nb will be a good '' book. Yes, indeed, let me repeat it, nothing can equal the '' resources it will afford you. An1id the severest agitations of life '-' it will prove your best and securest refuge, and whenever you ''.open it you will fe~l as if you were entering a temple of peace. "Now, if I mistake not, I have shown what is the best and '' least destructible monument, as well as legacy, a man can leave "behind him at his departure out of this world. Nor do I "hesitate to predict that you will one day write a book on '' some subject or another tlrn,t will interest and gratify your "readers. If you do it well you may count on the applause of " the wise and good, but you may not hope to escape the envy, '-' and, I may add hatred, of weak, narrow minds. Heed not '' them, for it is easy to wipe off the mire with which they may '-' bespatter you ; but rather seek the applause of the forn1er, "'who, as in duty bound, will pray God to bless the intellect "that toiled to enlighten and edify them. Turning over the "pages of some ancient Irish 1nanuscripts I have found that this '' thought was ever present to those authors who covered enor­ " mous parclunent folios with exquisite penmanship, and that "they one and all besought their readers to send up a prayer ''for them in return for so n1uch labour-nay, vitality-expended "on their works. Need. l say that love of books and book-making '' will enable you to lead a sweetly austere existence, far from "the vapid revel and the loathsome debauch 1 Need I say '' that old scrolls are preferable to old wine, and that you can u derive from the former content and tranquillity that the latter "cannot give 1 But you will tell me that I'd have you adopt PREFACE, vii

"a sort of hermit-life,. and expose you to the taunts and irony '' of those who would point yon out as eccentric, .and, according '' to their coarse perceptions, half-crazed. I mean nothing of "the sort; for I'd have you frequent and court society, but '' society of the virtuous, the learBed, and refined, whose ~on­ '' versation is calculated to cheer and inform. I would have '' you, however, shun the low and grovelling, who constitute the '' class called gay companions, who, after all, are but very in­ " different co1npany. In return for jeers and, taunts heap '' coals of fire on their heads-be to them like Araby's incense "which perfumes the flame that consun1es it. Cultivate a love '' of retirement-live mostly among your books, with Dante: '' Shakspeare, and such like~ With them you never can be '' alone, and one hour passed in their society is worth a year of "what the idle unreflecting world calls amusement. Let all '' your ta<:;tes and pleasures be simple ; avoid extravagance, for '' it leads to ws.ste and improvidence ; and if yo~ should ever '' take it into your head to build a house for yourself, design it, "I beseech you, after that handson1e one which you will see on "the right of the Flaminian road hard by the Porta del Popol0 '' at Rome. You 9annot mistake it, for its parapet bears this '' epigraph-' Parvci domiis magna quies. '* " Now John, I have said all that I meant to say to you. "Touching devotional practices, I need hardly add a word, " for I flatter myself that you will never forget the lessons " of pietyyon have learnt among us. Let them be ever present "to your me1nory like an altar-piece, counselling self-denial, "and awa'rnning aspirations for the life to come. Let the holy "fear and love of God influence every thought and act of your "existencJ, and be assured that, no 1natter how the world's '' tempest may assail you, He who saved Peter from drowning " in the Lake of Galilee will not fail you in the hour of your "sorest need. Often invoke the Maiden-Mother, and the Saint " of your own name and tribe, who loved his native land so '' well ; piously implore the suffragei:; of both for Ireland, for

* Small house, great comfort, ... Vlll PREFACE.

'' yourself, and for me. Ah, yes, for me, dear friend ; for a '' presentiment tells me that we shall never nieet again in the "body till these graves give up their dead. Remember me "when you kneel in the church of Sant' Ignazio at Rome, and " should you visit the halls of the Collegio Romano, bear in "mind that the little I was able to teach you was acquired there. '' By that time I may have passed out of this world, for the "stern monitor that Juvenal tells us bideth in every heart­ ,' ' nocte dieqiie suum gestare in pectore testem'*-warns me that "my days are numbered. But what matter if I am per1nitted "to approach the throne of the Eternal, where, dear. friend, I " will not forget to pray for you. Now, John, you have "reached the entrance of social life, and I flatter myself that, "unlike others of your age, you El.o not regard it as the mouth "of a beautiful river, or require to be told that the higher you "ascend it the narrower and less enchanting you will find its " stream. Youth, no doubt, hath its day-dreams and perspec­ " tive lit and tinted by i~nagination, which delights to dwell on "the future, but takes little heed of the present. Oh, may "heaven protect your heart and brain against illusions of " every sort ! Come, now, let me press you to my bosom, and " bid you a tender farewell." A few hours afterwards I took leave of my old masters and companions, and, having knelt to the rector for his blessing, set out for Dublin. Was I glad of my enlargement, or did I feel like one who hears the key turning in the lock of a dungeon to set him free ? Nothing of the sort. My heart sank within me as I looked my last on the college-gate, and I thought I heard an interior voice whispering in n1y ear-'' The best of your days " are over. You can never again know the peace and un­ " clouded happiness you enjoyed within yonder precincts." Paying little heed to the occasional remarks of the driver, who, it would appear, deenied it his duty to eng'.,ge me in con­ versation, and mistook my silence for some co1nmon-place 1nelancholy, I brooded on this solemn reflection, and fancied

* Night and day each of us has a witness in his breast. . PREFACE. 1X that the interior n1onitor grew more distinctly audible the farther I retired from that spot whose limits formed the horizon of my world so many years. Now, thought I to myself, I am at liberty to go any whither I wish ; I am an orphan-my 1neans, though moderate, are independent a.nd sufficient for my reasonable wants. Life's road is now open to me ; but what is life 1 Well, there are many answers to that question. First, life is the high-way to the grave ; secondly, it is the actual exercise of the physical and intellectual faculties, for without that it must be toneless, insipid, ir1:some. Is it not Goethe who says that an idle life is an anticipated death ? Is life a good or an evil 1 Without divine philosophy it is the latter; but if guided and inspired by religion, it is a present from Heaven-an inestimable good. What is the best way of passing it 1 In good congenial pursuits. A life so spent is never too long, and never too short. Is there not a more satisfactory answer to my first question 1 Yes, there is ; that which I heard poor Father F---propound; let me repeat it. Life is simply the expansion of an individual conquering and triumphing over obstacles which his faculties encounter, and which lessen in direct proportion to the increase of his physical and moral powers. Now, for the development of the former, what is required but healthful action, pure air, and a moderate dietary 1 As for the moral, which comprise the intellectual, a great city may or may not be the best place to enlarge them acc(i)rding as man uses or abuses the opportunities within his reach. Dublin has little attraction for me . . . I am not to be dazed by its fine buildings, or flaunting fashions, like the rustic whom Dante describes as all but bewildered at first sight of a town-q_itando prima, "s'iniirba." No, the country, with its quiet and seclusion, is more to n1y taste just now, and I will c@ntrive to be within short distance of the public libraries and friends with whom I can perfect myself in conversation­ that is_, in hearing and answering as I ought. Soliloquy or talking to oneself, I am aware, greatly improves a man, but . . . "I beg your honour's pardon,'' said the carman, interrupting my speculations, "we're at Car­ lisle-bridge-where will I drop you 1" '' At the last house on X PREF.A.CE. the left there below,,,. I answered, recovering out of my reverie and pointing the direction·. • .. A few days after my arrival in the metropolis a note from the parish priest of Rathdrum-one of n1y decetsecl father's earliest and most steadfast friends-was handed to me. The good Father D--, whom I had never seen, hearing cf my return home, invited me to pass a week with him, as he w ..ts desirous to show this attention to 1ne for m v father's sake as well as my own. I had heard much of the character of this excellent priest, and, instead of answering his invitation, detsrmined to proceed to him at 9nce. This, said I to myself, is just the tim0. for seeing the county Wicklow. The harvest is white for the sickle-the trees are dressed in their summer "bravery," and the purple heath of the hills will be all aglow at sunset. Oh, the delight of that clay's journey on the top of the coach, with its four spanking horses, through Little Bra.y, over the Dargle­ bridge-through the Glen of the· Downs, the wooded ravine of Dunran, and up the steep hill that rises over the valley of the .A. von1nore ! "Where," I asked one of the loungers standing at my last stage-"where doesFather-D--live 1'' "A short way off, your honour;. I'll show you .. " "Take the bag m1cl I'll fol­ low.'' Crossing a. little oriclge, my guide preceded nie through Rathdrum, and then, turning, to the left, pursued his way up a road so straight that I could not lose; sight of' him. Instead of keeping ·pace with him, I halted as if spell-bound by the exceeding beauty of the landscape: which I had never· visited till then-mountains of gracefully undulating outline, dense woods almost concealing from view the Vale of' Clara with its flashing river,, of which I got an occasional glimpse, and, ter­ minating all, at the bridge-foot a;. 1nill, the dank of ·whose wheels, softened by the fomning race, was distinctly audible' in the slumbrous stillness of that hot August day. Here, for me,. ,·vas a vision of beauty in all its fresT1ness. '' 'Tis," said I to myself, "one of Naturers masterpieces. I'll hang it up for ev-er in memory"s best gallery.'' A couple· minutes'· walk brought me to, my reverend friend's . PREFACE. Xl door, where I found him waiting to greet n1e. "Welcome, a thousand times welcome, son of my revered friend," said he, pressing my hand warmly ; "make no apology for not having '' written. Consider yourself at home; and as long as you '' like to stay under my poor roof consult your own convenience. '' I recognise your father in your features ; and if anything "could enhance the bliss which I trust he is now enjoying, 1nay '' it not be this incident 1 • • • • • • • • There now, '' turn into the parlour on the left, and let n1e finish my '' Office. I'll be with you in about half an hour. Meanwhile "you can make the acquaintance of ·Mungo.'' With this he patted the glossy head of a huge Newfoundland dog, which, if I could judge by the fan-like motion of his tail, and largely dilated eyes, seemed to share his master's delight, opened the door, and ushered us both in. " A cordial welcome this," said I to n1yself, as soon as the door closed ; '' and a right goodly "presence has the P.P.-austere without being n10rose, and " the vibrations o"f his clear, flexible voice convince me that he '' is all n1y father thought him-generous and kind-hearted. '' He is a well-built man, with clear blue eyes, ample forehead> '' features regular and well-defined, bro•wn hair somewhat '' silvered ; not above middle height, but in or about the exact "stature of one who has smnethingin him. • . . . Over­ '' tall men, generally speaking, are like the Ro-und Towers­ '' graceful, but with n-0thing inside .them. . . . . Yes, I '; remember what a Roman poet: has said of' a mediun1-sized '' n1an- '' llfa}or in cxigv.o 1regnavit eo1-pore virtus-" that is, best value· is to be found in a body of m,oderate pro­ portions; and doesn't another of them ren1ark of a gigantic massive fellow, " N1.1,,lla •in, tam vasto corpore rrhica sa-lis," insinuat ing that a sparkle of Attic salt is not to be had in such dimen­ sions 1 . But what says n1y old friend Cicero on the· subject­ " Valentissimo quisq'IJJe curpore· longissirne·abest a sapienti,a·-''·tha:t is-and I have no doubJ, Slrn,kepeare had this passa,ge in his eye when sketching Jack Falstaff-an overgrown fellow, all guts. and midriff. has 110. nous in him~ But far better· is. what poor· .. :Xll PREFACE.

Father F-- used to say. The heads of over-tall men re­ sem blethe attic apartmentsofhighhouses, which are usually badly furnished and sometimes totally empty. . . from which it follows, as a very natural inference, that besb goods are made up in moderate-sized parcels. Now let 1110 inspcc~ the cham her for it is easy to know a n1an's tastes and habitudes by the objects which surround him. 'Tis a neat apartment, com­ fortably appointed, carpetless, scrupulously clean, without a single object of a voluptuous vr luxurious character. There's a shelf with a goodly stock of neat-looking ton1es-what arc . they ·1 Canonical works, Lives of Saints, Prones of French preachers, a miscellaneous collection of agreeable reading­ some volumes of the Classics, Tasso, Dante, Moore's Melodies, O'Conor's History of the Irish Catholics, from which I de­ duce that Father D-- is very unlike the canon described by Gil Blas with his three volunws-a great Breviary, a cookery book, and a tract on indigestion, or what the doctors call dyspepsia. With such companions Father D- may snap his fingers at loneliness, since solitude with books is pre­ ferable to society with fools...... This, doubtless, is my friend's study; but what artistic objects are these that break the dead monotony of its walls, and serve to inspire and occasionally to distract his thoughts 1 A crucifix admir­ ably carved, which received the last kiss of his predecessor in this parish-a "Taking down from the Cross," well engraved, suggesting a biding love for the living and the dead-'tis after Rubens. Yonder is Henry Grattan, with his spiritualised features, in which the soul is as visible as light in an alabaster vase. Next him is the weak, meagre Emmet, a dreamer of dreams-very eloquent, 110 doubt, but overmuch given to gold lace and cocked hats-a dilettante in picturesque tailoring and patriotism. By his side hangs O'Connell, the tribune of the day, with well-curled wig, eyes brimming with humour, and plas­ tic coral lip, saturated with the broad, yet not unmusical dorio of Kerry. Then there's St. Peter's-a reminiscence of Father D-'s -visit to Rome. The Vatican ! The hill where the h1spired genius of the children of the Gentile expiated the ... PREFACE. Xlll

1 Latin centurion's crime on Calvary !-Christendom's everlasting protest against Luther, who said. that the Papacy was dead and buried-the resurrection of Helenic art, for which God missio~ed Raffa.el and. Angelo ; • • • • . and close by it Da Vinci's Last Supper, that most wonderful portraiture of visible emotions...... • But what is that hanging in the niche 1 The green baize bag reveals its outline-'tis a violin-the king of instruments, the nearest affinity to the hun1an_voice when well played. A love of music, I have heard, is a sign of predestination. Father D-- likes the concord of sweet sounds, and this is another of his amiable characteristics. But who made the fiddle 1 Perhaps Stradivarius. The Father may have picked it up in Cremona ; I'll take it down and try. I approached the niche, but between me and it there was a chair at whose feet Mungo lay stretched, as I thought, enjoying his siasfa. The moment, however, he heard my footfall, he uttered ::i. deep-rolling growl, half menacing, half deprecative, which induced nie to pause and consider what troubleLl his rest. A second's glaNce solved n1y difficulty. The chair held Father D--'s hat and gloves, and Mungo was on duty guarding both. "Don't misunderstand me, Mungo," said I, addressing the faithful brute, who followed my motions with the tail of his red eye, "I'd as lief touch the Pope's tiara as that broacl brimmer." Turning to the window I conte1nplated the scene that lay outspread be­ fore me-the hills, the vale, and the trees, which, gently bend­ ing under the tepid wind, seemed nodding at me. Talk, said I to myself, of Poussin and Salvator Rosa, they never saw the frame that held such a picture as this window does . • . but before I could finish my soliloquy the door opened, and my host entered the study. "I hope," said he, "you have a good appetite, and that you "will be content with frugal fare. Two friends who111 I invited "have just arrived; let me introduce you to them." ''rwas but a step or two fron1 the study to the dining-room, where I was formally presented to the two friends. The one was an aged priest, pastor of a neighbouring parish, a venerable mau, and beautiful with that bc:.1uty which snow-white hair

D xiv PREF.ACE. iinparts to well-defined features. His na1ne was FatheI G--. The other was a lay gentleman, with a highly intelligent expression, lithe and agile, who, I thought from his general bearing, must be fond of field sports. He had come from another county and settled in Rathdrum, near which he built n1ills. .S:is naine was Mr. 0--. I con• gratulated myself on his presence, for, thought I, two priests for one layman n1ight be over-much. Our meal, which opened and ended with blessing, was what Father D-- described it, frugal and sober, but enlivened with conversation that ranged over a variety of topics, and the interchange of those little acts of kindness w~ich are often the germs of a long and lasting friendship. The dinner things removed, the grave, matron­ like woman who attended us laid some fruits from her master's garden and a couple of flasks of wine on the table. Being i.nvited to partake of the latter, I declined to touch it, alleg­ ing, as my excuse, that I had little faith in the genuineness of wine bought in Dublin, where the chemist was able to counterfeit any and every description of it, fro1n Hock to Cham­ pagne. '' I don't believe," I said, '' that ten provinces larger '' than that of Xeres could produce all the sherry now on "sale in Dublin alone ; and, as for the Cha1npagne "growing country, a glance at the map suffices to prove '' that its area is very limited, and could not yield anything "like the quantity that is consumed in London and elsewhere." " You state what is the fact," said our host, " but I don't ask "you to take either. I'd deem it sinful to purchase such a "luxury. I read a· passage in St. Ambrose's Life which is "apropos to this subject. The Saint, ren1onstrating with the "Emperor for his extravagance, which impoverished his sub­ " jects, told him to his face, 'You have a ring on your finger " ' which, if sold, would enable hundreds of families to live.' "And as for myself, wouldn't the price of a bottle of cham­ " pagne, real or counterfeit, be as much, or 111ore, than one of '' n1y poor flock could earn by a whole week's delving 1 " ·vvhat's before you is a light claret direct from Bourdeaux.'' '' Even so," I answered, '' you 1nust let me indulge 1ny own PREF.ACE. xv,

'' tastes. I learnt the habit of abstinence from all fermented '' liquors in Clongowes, and will not taste grape-juice till I go '' to Italy. Redi's 'Bacchus in Tuscany' will then be my guide '' to the best vine-growing districts ; and I will there try if I '' can sto1nach the draught. l\Ieanwhile, for a man of my years. "I deem it safest to hold by Pindar, who said water is the " best drink, and by Shakspeare, who tells us it never laid any " man in the mire. Your wine, kind Father, doubtless grew " on th_e banks of the Garonne ; but, although I know Dublin "well, I never saw a vineyard on t11ose of the Liifey, where you '' might, were you rich enough to do so, purchase as much '' so-called wine of any sort as would fl.oat a three-decker. '' Two things I have resolved to never do. First, I will never give a '' shilling to a juggler to bamboozle my eyes; and, secondly, I will '' ne" er barter a reality for an unreality, which I would do '' were I to give good sterling coin for a thing that analysis " clearly proves was never expressed from a grape. As for the. "porter that narcotizes and the whiskey that qualifies for the "mad-house and the pauper's grave, I abhor both, and will '' never touch either. I never could see the wisdom of expend­ " ing money on superfluities which invariably deprive us of "necessaries, or of enriching brewer or distiller by depauperis­ " ing self." "Sound philosophy," said Father G--, ''and "quite unexpected from one of your years. You 1nust not, "however, bear too hard on the porter, for we have in Rath. '' drum two breweries, one of which is called the Conservative "..and the other the ' Liberal."' "'Tis the first tin1e," I 1·e­ n1arked, "I ever heard that porter had any special political ".creed." "Such, however," obsC}rved Mr. C-, "is the " fact. The drink brewed in the house you must have seen on "your left as you entered Rathdrum, is called Boyne-water, '' while that made in E-'s, the other est:1blishment, is de­ " signated the liberal tipple." "Which, then," I asked, '' is . "the more grievous sin-getting stupified by the liberal or "by the Boyne-water 1" "Some more learned casuist than '' I," answered our host, " must resolve you that question; " but even at the risk of amazing you, I n1ust sn,y that xvi. PREFACE.

" political party-feeling has reached such an absurd climax "here, that we have a Liberal chimney-sweeper and a Con­ " servative one." "An orange-lily," said I, "would come '' out in strong relief if set in a cap begrimed with soot, and, I " believe, I may say the same of a shamrock decorating the "head of your Liberal. Of both I'd say, h-i nigri sunt, hos, tii '' Romane, caveto. Party feeling must run high and low in this " quarter, when such anomalies are suffered to exist." " You " can hardly conceive," said Father D--, '' an idea of the ever­ " recurringtroublethewarofthe two factions causes me. Infairor "market they are ever ready to fly at each others' throats ; and '' notwithstanding the provocation given the unfortunate Catholic, '' or the injuries he may receive from the armed ruffians, the "magistrates invariably stand by the latter. Some tin1e ago " Lord Mulgrave, passing from Ballinacor through Rathdrum, '' was hooted by a mob of ragamuffins who paraded their orange '' lilies-'twas the 12bh of July-and then proceeded to smash '' the windows of the wretched corridor in the Flannel Hall, '' which serves us for a church. Con1plaint would have been '' useless, for the magistrates would give us no redress." "What," .l asked, "' is the Flannel Hall, or is it possible that "youhave no church 1'' "The Hall," replied Father D--, ''was " built by one of the Fitzwilliam family long ago, and was once "a fa1nous mart for the sale of flannel. That branch of trade "failing, the hall was turned into a prison during the troubles '' of '98, and you may still see over its parapet the spikes on "which the heads of the unfortunate ., rebels,' as t.hey called '' them, were impaled. 'Tis a grim golgotha to look at, but my '' predecessor, Father Kavanagh, whose'manuscript men1oirs n1ay '' interest you, induced the late Earl Fitzwilliam to lend us the '' corridor, which we use for sacred purposes. Some short time '' ago, while the Protestant church was undergoing repairs, "the Episcopalians had their heels on our heads, for they oc­ " cupied a small room over us, and a sect, which I believe "originatecl with an obscure fanatic in the town, assembled­ '' two or three dozen of the1n-next door to ourselves. In fa.d '' it was, and is, a sort of N oa's Ark, without any of its ameni- .. PREFACE. xvu

"ties. We have, however, three edifices in the parish which ''have some pretension to be called churches-Clara, Moycred­ '' din, and Grenane. The latter was .burnt by the yeomen in "'98, but was rebuilt by my worthy predecessor. You "must see them all before you leave, and Grenane espe­ " cially, which stands at the head of historic Glenmalure." "Of course," I remarked, "the Catholics are the majority "in your parish ; but who are those fellows who presume "to flout them as you describe 1" "Mr. 0--," replied our host, " will tell you, for he knows them one and all." "Some of them," said Mr. C-, '' are descendents of the set­ " tlers in the times of Elizabeth, James I., Cromwell, and Wil­ " liam. Many of them, however, and they are now pretty old, "·and likely to die out soon, are the survivors of the Yeomen of 1 "'98, who, notwithstanding_ the long interval of peace, stru~ "about in a sort of armed neutrality, and are ever on the alert " to fling an insult or strike a blow. Some of those distinguished '' themselves in '98 by making bloody raids on unoffending and "peaceable Catholics, simply because they were such, and would "do the same this present moment if they did not fear ener­ " getic resistance. They are ever ready to cry out for Church '' and State, although none of them could give you a definition '' 0f either word, or tell you the name of the reigning Pope, '' whom they curse in the most approved fashion. You may "guess what we have to endure at the hands of such rabble, '' and what a priest has to encounter in calming the sensibilities "and susceptiveness of his people. There's no species of in­ ,, suit which flaming placards at the· door of the Protestant '' church, of which a richly endowed minister is rector, or the " course jibe of some illiterate ex-Yeoman could inflict, that we "have not from time to time experienced ; and no later than " a few days ago a squad of those drunken miscreants went to " Glen-da:-loch and hewed down one of the most aged trees in Ire­ " land-the old yew said to have been planted by St. Kevin. " This, of course, was done to despite the Catholics, and was " duly toa.sted in the decayed hotel, where the magistrates hold '' an Orange Lodge. I can show you some of the heroes of this ... XVlll PREFACE.

'' exploit, and one in particular, a broken-down old fellow, so "ill-looking and atrociously ugly that one wonders his very "shadow has not cut him. He is styled the Briton, because he '' belonged to a regiment so called, that perpetrated the most " unheard-of barbarities in this _county in '98. They paid "sorely for it, however, for nearly all of them were de­ " stroyed by the pike in the pass of Bal-Ellis." "A few "days ago," interrupted our host, " he sent me word '' that h~ would shoot Mungo if he got the opportunity, "and I have ever since been obliged to confine the poor "brute to his kennel. I wouldn't lose him for the world, for "he's a living fixture in my household." " There's an herb," "quoth I, "which the French call chiendent (dog's-tooth), and it " might be well to prescribe it for the Briton ; at all events, if '' he confine himself to dogmatic facts of the kind he threatens, " we can afford to let him die out quietly." "Are the O'Byrnes," I asked, "numerous in your hills '' and glens?" ''Very numerous," replied Father D--, '' and '' as fine a race as you could wish to see. I grieve to say, how­ " ever, that they don't prefix the O to their name, and that the '' O'Tooles are guilty of the same omission. I hope the time ''may come when this scandal-for I know no other epithet "for it-will disappear. Now, you are young, and, as I under­ " stand, about to make a lengthened sojourn on the Continent. '' Try and discover everything you can relating to the O'Tooles '' and O'Byrnes who distinguished themselves abroad mthe Irish '' Brigades ; and when you grow old and return home publish "your gleanings to show both tribes that they have no reason '' to be ashamed of the Celtic designation of tlrnir own kith and '' kin. There's an ineffable meanness in sinking an ancient "Irish name to placate English squireen prejudice; but here "comes the tea, to which I hope yon won't object in apprehen­ " sion of being made nervous or kept sleepless all night." '' My nerves," I replied, '' are, thank Heaven, vigorous, and " an old father in Clongowes told me that the best antidote for '' disease of these delicate organs of sensation is to persuade '' yourself you have not any of them. As for wakeful nights, I PREFACE. XIX

"never had personal experience of that sort. Although I can­ " not applaud Sancho Panza for having prayed for the man who "invented sleep, I cannot help wishing that the Briton's may "be profound and unbroken for the sake of poor Mungo. "Hasn't some one said that heaven permits the wicked to '' sleep in order that the good and oppressed may have an "interval of peace 1 and now, Father D--, as the tea is "over, will you be good enough to take down the violin and " give· us a tune. I wished to ascertain the name of its " n1ake1\ but Mungo gave me to understand that I should not " cross hin1 as he lay before it. Doctor Johnson, yon know, has " said that music is the most convenient and least humiliating ' " mode of killing time without undergoing the labour of think- " ing. The musical art is a delightful one, for although it can- " not imitate objects, it can, nevertheless, the impression they '' make." '' I suppose" said our host, '' the proverb, qui cito dcit '' bis clcit, applies to the present occasion," and so saying he left the apartment and returned with the violin. '' Is it," I asked, "an Amati, a Stradivarius, or a Guarnering that you purchased "on the Continent?"" It has no claim,"repliedFather D---, "to such paternity, but I am pretty sure tlrn,t its 1naker did not "live within so1ne hundrecl miles of Cremona. The poor in- " strument has its history, for, like Beranger's violon brise, it too ":suffereclinjury attheha,ncls of a n1iscreant who, in a paroxys1n " of loyalty, assaulted poor Teague O'Byrne for playing 'Popish " airs' as he termed our great minstrel's melodies. I attended '' Teague in his last illness, and the poor fellow, knowing I was : ,, fond of n1usic, bequeathed it to n1e. In his time (Lord rest " him !) it did duty at the wedding, christening, the dance on the ''sward, and occasionally in the Ffannel Hall, where Teague often "played Venite A.dorem/nson the cold Christmas morning. "\Vhen "I heard the Pope's choir in the Sistine, I could not help "thinking what wouldn't poor Teague have given to hear such '' n1usic ! Don't. however, expect much front 1110, for I am but '' an indifferent performer, although not entirely so bad as " Da1nretas- '' Dnnce at the best, 011 streets, but scarce allowed, To tic ... Je, on his reed, the stupid crowd." xx PREFACE.

The good father then played us two or three of the melodies with exquisite skill, which convinced me that he had a thorough knowledge of notation, an excellent ear, and fine sense of touch. "'Tis a sweet relaxation for him, said I to myself, '' after a day's hard work in the mountains or in his study. " The celebrated Bourdaloue, if I n1istake not, was a capital " violinist and. . . but Father G-- interrupted my musing. " Play us," said he, " that air which in my opinion is far more '' pathetic than any of the, melodies-I mean ' Billy Byrne of '' Ballyn1anus,' and you will enhance it by singing a couple of "the stanzas, by way of accompaniment." Our host complied, but premised that the words would not stand poetical criti­ cism, a s they were the effusion of son1e hedge-schoolmaster who had a greater regard for poor Billy's fate than for the· Gradus and Parnassum. The air, was plaintive, such a one, indeed, as might serve to mark time for a long funeral proces­ sion. The words, however, which next morning I jotted down from Father D--'s .dictation, might have been much better ~nd less equivocal as far as charity is concerned. "Did you '' ever see the hero 1'' I asked, addressing Father G--, who replied that he had known him when he was a boy complet­ ing his school-days in the town of vVicklow. "He was," con­ tinued the reverend old patriarch, "one of the finest men I '' ever s:1w. He stood more than six feet in his vamps, and was "the best 1nan in the county after the hounds. He was " of ancient family that in those bad times had a moderate

! "income, which, however, was not 1nanaged wisely ; they " were all attainted of treason, and Billy, poor fellow ! '' although pardoned by the Crown, was sacrificed to pla~ate "the Orange faction in this county. Go visit Ballymanus, ' " and you will see the remains of the now solitary house '' where they lived, I fear very riotously, ancl beyond their "means. See, too, hard by the gap of Ballyboy in Glenmalure '' the ruins of Critchly's house, where he resorted much before "the rebellion; 'twas burnt by 'the boys.' Heaven pardon me! "his majestic, manly figure often distracted my thoughts in '' Grenane Church, where when a mere boy I often saw him at PREFACE, XXI

•' Mass. He was a terror to the shoneens of his day, who were "obliged to affect a respect for him which they did not feel. " Without such a man to help and guide our fathers it was "almost impossible for 'a Papist' to escape continual insult '' or outrage, wherever he might be. Ah, poor Billy, I'll never " forget the day I saw you marching handcuffed, with a priest '' at your side, past the old Franciscan friary of the town of "Wicklow to the gallows-hill. He was, like many others, le­ " gally murdered ; nor would the vile squierarchy of that day "allow his remains to be deposited with his ancestors in the "family vault· at Rossahane. His sisters, elegant and highly '' educated ladies, died, if I am rightly informed, in great "poverty in Dublin; nor do I know who now represents the " old house of Ballymanus. But we have talked far into the " night, and it is time to retire, as I must rise early and return '' to my home, where I'll be happy to see you should you honour "me with a call." Mr. C- then rose, and, after taking leave of us three, set out for his beautifully-situated cottage, which can never be occupied by a better or worthier gentleman. That night sleep was slow to visit my eyes, nor did I yearn for a garland of poppies to woo it. My thoughts were entirely occupied with all I had heard and seen, and as I recalled every incident of the evening, I communed with myself after this fashion :-Happy the parishes that have such pastors! Here are two men of humble origin whose role in life is the most hnportant that can be filled. What is their duty ? The perpe­ tuation of the Church's dogmas, the dispensation of its sacra­ ments, and the propagation of its grand morality, which must . be preserved pure and undefiled by the mystic aromata of faith, hope, and charity. And are those men unfit to consort with the class calling itself the geritry ? I rather think such supercilious pretenders should deem themselves honoured by their presence ; for are they not their equals, if not their superiors, in attainments, learning, and all those high endowments which are not trans1nitted, but acquired by long years of study and self-denial? I know no platform equal to the pulpit, for it is from that a man can rule more .. xxn PREFACE.

sovereignly than any monarch, enlightening intelligence, im­ parting kn ow ledge, and swaying the conscience. Talk of the influence and power of law ! A good pastor, like eithe1 .of those I have just left, can do more for preserving peace than a batta­ lion of grenadiers or a bar of lawyers. The people love, nay, all but adore their priests, and why should they not, for who else feel for them, share their joys and vicissitudes, bless them in the cradle, minister at their sick-beds, heedless of infection or contagion, and pronounce the last prayer when they are laid in the old burial-place of their fathers? View them in every aspect, where will you :find within the fl.a.ming walls of the universe a priesthood more faithful, zealous, or deserving the love of their flocks than the Irish ? This excellent man who houses me is ready at any moment to rise from his bed and carry sacramental graces to the dying, no matter where that poor creature's thatched roof 1nay be, in the glen or on the hill­ side. The lamp nn1St. never be quenched nor the door fast closed against the petitioner for such blessings on the brink of Eternity and . . . . but I hope, nevertheless, that it is not sinful to wish Father D-- a surcease from such labour to­ night, and that he and every member of his flock may enjoy un­ broken repose. I know not whether it is presumption to say that my wish was granted as far as the priest and his flock were concerned, but I can assert without fear of contradiction that about the time sung by Virgil-·,, qiio primci quies mortali­ bus incipit"-which I take to be one o'clock in the morning­ sleep, profound and bahny, such as the doctors with all their opiates never can give, wrapt my every sense, and brought n1e dreams 1nore refreshing and pleasing than any that ever before passed the fabled Ivory Gate. Pitiable is the condition of the man who cannot sleep ! But if he wants a remedy for such an ill, I'd prescribe for him a serene conscience and a diligent pe­ rusal of Moliere's '' Malade Imaginaire." Many to whom I gave this antidote have assured me that they are now able to enjoy sweetest slumbers-if necessary on a tick filled with smoothing-irons ! " Six o'clock precisely," said I, as I ju1nped out of bed PREFACE. XXlll after crossing myself. How old habitudes stick to one like his skin! In Clongowes we used to rise at this hour, and only for want of the prayer-hall I might fancy n1yself there. Heaven be thanked for the good night's rest, and may its blessing follow me through this day. Ah, what a view from this window! I am high above the tree tops ; the thick mists are rolling up­ wards from the glens where they slept, and mountain, valley, and stream, blending in harmony, form a delightful prospect; and there goes the lark, as Shakspeare says, singing at Heaven's gate. But my reverie was interrupted by a gentle tap at the door, on opening which the good Father G---, with his beaming features, stood before me. '' Good morning," said he, in that subdued tone which signified that he was bent on sornething solemn. " Good morning, Father," I replied, " I hope Y,OU slept well." '' Well, thank God. Will you be kind enough to '' descend and serve 1ny Mass 1 Father D--- is officiating in '' the Flannel Hall, and has taken the clerk with him." '' Indeed '' I will," I answered, '' and here let me tell you that I often "did the same for the great J. K. L., who always compli­ " mented me on my distinct articulation, and the rubrical pro­ " priety with which I perforn1ed that honourable and sacred "function. I suppose I'll have to do without soutane and " surplice ?" "Your personal candour will supplement both,'' replied Father G---, as I followed him to the oratory. An hour thence the parish priest joined us at breakfast, after which the old patriarch renewed to me his cordial invitation, and set out for ho1ne. "Here," said the pastor, "is a note from Mr. " C---, who expects us to dine with hin1 to-day ; he Bays he "has a horse saddled for you whenever you wish to mount. I "have much to do in the parish, and would advise you to ride '' clown to the Churches-I don't say the seven, because they '' are more nu1nerous-and amuse yourself among the ruins "Here, "he _continuad," handing me a neatly, bound volume is "the Memoirwritten bymypredecessor; it will help to speed time " when you tire of that scene of stern desolation." I placed the book in my pocket, went to Mr. C---'s cottage, mounted and set out for Glen-da-Loch. 'Twas indeed a . :XXlV PREFACE. delightful ride along that umbrageous road by the vale of Clara ; and so thick was the foliage above my head that I occasionally found it difficult to see the sky, patches of which ever and anon appeared to me like n1ines of rubies. On reaching the stepping-stones which joined the ancient Roman causeway, leading to the arched entrance of the famous valley, I was accosted by a stout fellow, bare-legged, and bearded like a hermit. " Your honour's welcome," said he ; " I'm "the guide." Surveying the man from head to foot, I said to myself, were I disposed to join the Austrian service, as some of my friends advise, I'd induce this fellow to be my batman; he's just the stuff the old brigades were made of; but I hate despotism, and won't gird 'sword for his imperial majesty. ''You," I replied, '' are the Cicerone." "The what, your honour 1" " The Cicerone," I repeated. "No," said he, clenching his right hand and swinging it over his head. "I thank heaven '' I'm not, and what's more, the devil a one of my breed, seed, '' or generation ever had anyt~1ing to do with that sort, and I " hope never will." '' What sort ?" I asked. "What sort!" answered the guide with emphasis. '' vVhat "sort, but swaddlers and Bible-readers, who come down "strc1vaging here, and tempting us to sell our souls. I'm a "poor n1an, but I wouldn't bate one tittle of the old faith for "all the money in London." "Pardon me, friend," I replied, " you are nevertheless the "Cicerone, which is the Italian word for guide. You are, I "am sure, a right honest fellow, and I too belong to the old "faith. Now take my advice-write down that word Cicerone, '' get it by heart, and next time some rich folk from England "visit this place, dash up to them and sing out, 'I am the chi­ " che-ro-ne,' and you will see what this addition to your indi­ " viduality will accomplish. You may say 'what's in a name ?' " but I can assure you that I have known very mediocre people '' get on in the world by force of a name. Now to business­ " what can you do for me 1" "I'll show your honour Kavin's PREFACE. XXV

"bed, out of which he threw Cathleen into the lake where she "was drowned, and St. Kavin's kitchen, and . " " Stay, my good friend, I don't believe a word about the "drowning." "Sure, your honour, it's in Moore's Melodies, ' By that Lake' . . . • . " "I know it is, but it's not the truth for all that, nor was "there anything to warrant Mr. Moore's story but an idle '' legend. He was a poet, and wooed the muses more than '' truth. Then as to St. Kevin's kitchen, I look on that as the '' worst fable of all. Surely you don't suppose that St. Kevin "set up dining-rooms in Glen-da-loch, like Mr. Doln,n yonder? '' Well, your honour, the quality all believe it." '' Therefore," " I replied, " were there no other argument for my position, "that of itself would sustain it ; for the 1nasses of mankind, "including the q11.iality, are profoundly ignorant in matters "of this sort." " Do you know anything of chronology 1'' "Sorra word, your honour." "Then I take it that the '' art of tracing events to their true epoch was not taught '' in your school. There were no National Schools when '' you were a youngster 1" '' Not one ; the only school "we had was kept by Peter MacCabe in Glen-i-bla. Lord "rest him; he lies there yonder under the Tower. 1-Ie drank " a power in his time." " I hope his pupils did not take after '' him 1" '' Indeed, n1any of then1 did, and paid dearly for it." "Now then, friend," I resun1ed, "I'll dismount and you will '' take the horse to Dolan's, and see that he is well cared. I'll '' pay you liberally for leaving me to myself. I hate the pro- , '' fession you follow, for it always assumes a didactic tone, and '' indulges in 1rncknied phrases that sicken me. Then again '' the Cicerone-don't forget the word-belongs to a venal '' class that can season its narratives according to the tastes and '' appetites of those who hire them. K.eep your official repertory of "demonstrat~ons for somebody else, for I have read everything "that has been written about these ruins, ancl know then1 as '' well as if I hacl lived twenty years in their midst. Go now, '' and 1neet me four or five hours hence at the stepping stones." This, said I to n1yself, is not the time to visit these ruins ; they XXVI PREFACE

should be seen when the sky is sad, lowering, and humid. The atmosphere of to-day is transparent and envelopes them like a shrine of blue and gold. I have long since experienced my first emotion, and a second visit never can reproduce it. N everthe­ less, majestic stillness, unbroken even by the fall of the cataract, reigns around, and makes me fancy that I am in a solitude far from the haunts of men. What was this place in the early day of Ireland's Christianity 1 what, but a scene of piety, frequented by ascetics who sought it as a Thebaid, and of scholars who came hither in quest of knowledge at a period when barbarians were desolating the European Continent. These crumbling stones hold many unspoken remembrances, and will answer me if I question them. But even unquestioned their sublime silence gives the heart balm and consolation which it may not find in the stunning uproar of a city._ Well then· here stood the Baptistery, where generations were made Christians; here the Churches, which opened their gates to sanctify them ; yonder is the tall bell-tower that summoned them to prayer, and all around the cemetery where they rest till the archangel sounds ''arise." The whole life. of a Christian is here. What more do I require to know, or why should I attempt to fill up spaces in chronology or look for missing links in the chain of events 1 Can hu1nan history ever be free from error in all its details 1 I don't believe it. Instead, there£ ore, of engaging in learned controversies that decide nothing, or at least leave us in inc~r­ titude and suspense, let me rather brood upon the vague mystery that envelopes these hallowed remains, and indulge the consoling illusions which they inspire. "\,Vho but God alone knows the secrets of the sepulchre 1 and may I not be allowed to fancy that the rustle of the wind in the rank grass is a hyn1n sung by the departed-a hymn of the tomb written in a language which we will not understand till we are dead? ls it wrong to con­ jecture that it may be a voice of warning, or a plaintive ~ppeal to my sympathies, inviting me to pray for those who are gone, and have not yet passed the painful porch that leads to H ea,ven 1 Ah, ye disembodied spirits, if any of ye still hover about the~e graves where your mortality cru111bles, here on bended knees,

! (' .. PREFACE. XXVll

I beseec;h God to give you everlasting rest and light-that light ,, h :ch eclipse th the brightest rays of the sun. This is the prayer of the Church, which falleth not to the ground,_ but is caught up and repeated in the place of expiation, and in the halls of heaven. A.h, but here is the old yew-tree torn up by the Rathdrmn vandals. What labour it must have cost those·enlightened individuals to uproot it, and show how 1nuch they despised the s11,perstitiO'li of the Papists. Did those fellows understand the 1neaning of the word 1 I doubt it. It occurs to n1e that they should have lived in the tin1es of the Iconoclasts, when they would have had full fling for their barbarism. Hearts like theirs never felt a single kindly influence, and it would have given them a fiendish delight to shatter the Laocoon or the Apollo of Phidias, if son1e one told them that either was saved by or associatecl with the genius of Catholicity, to which art is indebted for its preservation. Had that tree been as old as any that ever flourished in Dodona, they would not have hesitated to hew it into billets, if for nothing else, to despite their Catholic neighbours. 'Twas a cruel and a wanton act, little less than sacrilegious if we analyse the motives of those who perpetrated it. Who knows but that same tree 1nay yet bear bitter fruit for them 1 who knows but they too 1nay yet be uprooted in another fashion, arid made to respect the venera­ tion with which the Irish Catholic peasant regards the dun, the rath, the holy well, and every other inanimate object associated with the history of his religion and country 1 Heaven grant that he may never cease to cherish such sentiment, and transmit it like a holy inheritance to his latest posterity. After indulging this sort of reverie for some hour~, and tiring myself stumbling over the graves of that wide ce111etery, I drew from my pocket the Men1oir which 1ny kind host lent 111e, lay down in the shadow of the Round Tower, and perused it from cover to cover. This done, I recrossed the stepping stones, where I found the guide and horse waiting me. Before mount­ ing I handed the poor fellow s01ne silver as a reward for his absence, and quoted that passage of Euripides, which says that here are occasions in which silence is preferable to talk, and xxviii PREF.A.CE. that it is better to say nothing than to talk nothings. Surprised at my liberality, he was about to return a long-winded thanks, when I checked him, and said, " Friend, I congratulate you on "having appreciated the :fine opportunity you have had of hold­ '' ing your tongue ; once more let me charge you to not forget the " word Cicerone, and to bear in mind that a name may help you '' to advance in the world, provided you put on conform gravity. '' Gravity is the rind of wisdom-nay, it is more, a mystery of '' the body invented to conceal mental deficiency. Farewell !" How has Father Kavanagh's book impressed me? Poorly. Its quaint orthography and admirable penmanship are curiosities in their way ; but the whole composition lacks incident, and I might say interest. It has, however, some facts which throw strong light on the period with which it opens. A young mau is taken from the plough, and because he had learnt some Latin, a 1d was religiously inclined, is ordained a priest, and sent off to Nantes, where there was an Irish College, to study Theology. Maynooth was not in existence till 1795-that is to say, twenty­ five years after Father Kavanagh's ordination. The young bvite infor1ns us that the sailed from Lazar-hill, now Townsend­ street, and on reaching his destination pursued his studies along with a half-dozen of his countrymen, who conducted themselves somewhat like the Irish students whom Gil Blas met near Salamanca. Father Kavanagh, being of pugnacious charac­ ter, took service as chaplain aboard a French line of battle ship, in 1782, and was present in various actions between the garrison of Gibr_altar and the combined fleets of France and Spain. He kept a log whi.;h fills the best part of his 1nanuscript, and is drearily monotonous. In fact, he seen1s to have had nothing to do but read prayers before consigning the killed to their watery graves; and he takes special pains to tell the exact weight of the rouncl shot which was sewed up in the sea-shrouds. The entries run thus :-'' Septe1nber 24, Jean . . . was killed between decks. I put him into sack with a twenty-four pound shot, recited the burial service, and committed him to the deep with de profnnclis." But there is one of exceptional interest, which shows how a man's rest may be broken by 'U,niisiicil noise :- PREF.A.CE. XXIX

' While we were taking in provisions off .Algesiras," says tle chaplain, "s01ne cats contrived to get aboard us, and such "\_Vas the infernal noise they kept up all night that I couldn't close an eye." Tha thunders of a broad-side could not scarce sleep from the chaplain's eyes, but the mewing of a cat could. The gnawing of a m':>use broke the rest of the great Emperor at St. Helena, and c.1.tterwauling disquieted Father Kavanagh under the fla1ning guns of Gibraltar. In 1783 his reverence visited Spain, saw the grand churches and a bull-fight ; returned home some years afterwards, and was appointed P.P. of Rathdrum. Had he continued his log on shore he could have told us much of far greater m•Jment than his adventures afloat. But he did not, and his book consequently is all that it ought not have been. Living during 198, he had ample opportunity to jot down what h3 saw, and if he had done so, we would now possess a narrative of unequalled importance, on the religious and political condj­ tion of Wicklow at that momentous period. It was nigh set of sun that evening as I rode slowly along th3 vale of Clara,. 1nusing on all I had seen in Glen-da-loch, and thinking of the time when its churches were fresh and bright from the ha,nds of the builders, and thronged with crowds of fervent worshippers. Long and deeply did I ponder this : subject, which so absorbed me that I hardly heard the tr~ad of : the horse's hoofs, or the whir ofthe birds which the unwonted ~ noise startled from the gorse that grew luxuriantly on either , side of Ballyhad. I could not, however, help drawing the rein when I reached the bend of the road that enabled me to see the little church lying far down in the delightful glen on the bank of the Avon1nore. .Ah, said I to myself, whoever selected tlrnt site for the sacred edifice had an eye to the picturesque ; for there's not a lovelier spot, or one better suited for a church throughout the length and breadth of Ireland. Were I disposed to l\. turn hermit, I'd prefer it to any other I have ever seen ; and after · all, might not 1ny" days pass more peacefully there, beside that placid stream, than in the surging streets of a city ? Down in that sweet valley I could be alone with God and Nature, far away fro1n life's tur1noil and strife, its worthless ambitions and

C XXX PREFACE.

1niscalled enjoym· nts. "\iVith frugal fare, books, and occasional conversation of a few friends, how happily would one's days glide on there ; and when he reached the parting of the ways, n1ight he not look back on the past with feelings very different fron1 those which haunt and terrify the man who, distracted by an infinite variety of objects, suffered himself to be deluded by this world's 1n:tJic lantern 1 But whatever I may be disposed to do hereafter, I am not going to turn solitary yet. On reaching the P. P's. house I found him readyto start for Mr. C---'s, and after brushing the dust from my clothes, we both set out together. "You will meet,'' said he, "my two curates this· '' evening ; neither of then1 could be with us yesterday, and I '' 1nake it a rule to never dine without then1, whenever a friend '' or two happ::m to be with me. They are both excellent men, "devoted to their sacrecl calling, mutually attached, but pos­ " sessing tastes of very divergent character. One of them, ''Father H---, has just come fr01n Rome, where he spent "seven years, ancl the other was educated in one of our pro­ '' vincial colleges. He is a very strong man, well suited to the '' rigorous character of our 1nountains-one, in a word, who thinks '' nothing of a ride to Anghavanagh in the sleet and storm of a "winter's night, when duty calls him~ thither. I am much "att~ched to thein both, for I re6ard them not as inferiors:, but "as aids, whose cordial co-operation enables me to rule this '' parish as I ought. Strife and its conc01nitants are utterly un~ '' known to us, and we work harmoniously together, making "due allowance for all those bla1neless peculiarities that mark "the character of each • . . . But we are arrived, and "here is our generous host corning to meet us." vVith a cordial grasp of the hancl Mr. C--- lecl n1e into his beautiful , cottage, and introduced n1e first to his young wife, and then to tho two curates, both of whom lovingly greeted their parish priest. After a few n1oments' conversation with our ainiable hostess in order to break the ice of an incipient acquaintance; I fixed my eyes on the curates, for I could not help observing the marked contrast between both. The one, Father F--, was .a huge, colossal n1an, who, if he hacl had the flowing beard . PREFACE. . XXXl

of Angelo's Moses, would have resembled n1ore or less that wonderful piece of marble muscularity. His features, how­ ever, were expressive, brimming over with good humour, so much so that, despite my theory about Herculean or Falstaflian dimensions, I was fain to say to myself, this is a good-hearted sort ·of man, whatever his head may be. The colleague of Fat.her F--- was his veriest antithesis, somewhat below the middle height, with good features, clear eye, soft, silky brown hair, diaphanous complexion, but thin as a cat's ear-one who I would have sa1d, had I not been told it, must have had the sap exhaled out of him by the hot sun of Italy. Crossing into the dining-roon1 with Mrs. C--- on my arm, I said inwardly, this meeting augurs well for an evening's amusement, and no­ thing can be more striking than the contrast between the two curates. I have seen enough of the physique of both. I will now confine n1y observation to their intellectual qualities. Herein, however, I miscalculated my opportunities, for the big · priest engrossed the entire conversation, and dealt with topics which seemed to greatly interest our host : high farming, crops, harvest prospects, horses, whose pedigree he knew by heart ; sheep, short-horns, long-horns, evictions, of which he drew terribly faithful pictures ; and the insolent swagger of son1e ruffianly fellows, whom the government of the day armed with magisterial power, furnished him exhaustless themes, so m~ch so that none of us could edge in a single word. 0 h, but he was discur­ sive and voluble, thoroughly at in all current subjects, and intimately fa1niliar with the condition of every man, woman, and child in that extensive parish, where he was loved by his own people, and more feared than respected by the class calling themselves gent-ry and qtiality. The young priest, for he had not yet con1pl~ted his twenty-third year, see1ned greatly astonished at his .colleague's repertory, and, like a wise man, did not venture a word on topics of which he apparently · knew little. Withal, a smile which occasionally flitted across his pale features, convinced me that he was an attentive listener, and amused by the rolling fluency of his coadjutor. During the pauses in the conversation-and they were few .. XXXll PREFACE. and far between-the parish priest contrived to say a few words to Mrs. 0-- ; but, for myself, although prizing silence as much as most m3n, knowirig, as I do, that it favours reflection, I ha.d to remain du1nb as a church-bell on Good Friday. "Heaven be praised !" I inwardly murmured, when our hostess rose fro1n her chair, and, accompanied by Father H--, passed into the drawing-room. " I, too," said I, "will follow "suit, and leave the parish priest and his colossal curate to con­ " verse with the host. I must try and get some music, and, if '' possible, a talk with his youthful reverence." '' I hope you '' are fond of music, Mr. O'Toole," said our hostess, as I sat down near the piano. '' Passionately fond of it, madam," I replied ; " for I regard it as a science sent from Heaven. Indeed, I love "music, instrumental and vocal, and it is my conviction that '' the man who hasn't ear for it can neither talk well nor '' write well. There is a music of style without which no "one can attune sentences with the pen or with the "tongue. Then, again, permit me to observe that I have " always found a wonderful resemblance between the human :, voice and the character, for where the former is sharp or dis­ " sonant you may conclude that the latter is disagreeable. A " sweet voice may, it is true, be the organ of hypocrisy ; but a " harsh one never can be that of gentleness." "Truly spoken," interposed Father H--. " What instrument do you like "most?" "The violin, and after it the piano, thongh, sooth to "say, the latter resembles the fibres of my brain, and is not "always in tune." "Are you fond of art 1" asked the young priest-" painting, ~cnlpture, poetry . • . 1" "I am, indeed ; so much so that I regard the great writers of '' antiquity as painters whose colours never can be effaced. "Homer survives, but Apelles is dead. Sculpture has ineffable "·charms for me, and so has poesy. Theocritus calls poets "priests." "Which of the two, painting or sculpture," asked Father H--, "do you take to be the noblest art 1'' '' Painting, unquestionably," I answered, "for it abounds PREFACE. xxxiii

'' in resources which the sculptor cannot command. I have "read a charming dissertation by Castiglione on this interesting "subject, and I accept all his conclusions as incontrovertible. '' But let us not keep Mrs. 0-- idle at the piano, unless you '' prefer listening to the wild notes of the gold-finch on the "wood-bine yonder." '' You'd mi_stake my tastes if you credited me with such a "preference," replied the curate, "for I was too long in Italy "not to love the human voice divine, especially when accom­ '' panied by the piano." '' I fear," said Mrs. 0--, "that you will find me a very "mediocre singer." '' Mediocrity, madam," said I, '' is tolerable in most things "but poetry ; and you will admit that it is preferable to pre­ " sumption." A copy of Moore's Melodies lay on the music­ stand. I turned the leaves, and, lighting upon "Love's Young Dream," asked our hostess to sing it. This she did admirably, and much more to my taste than many a professional artist I have since heard at home and abroad. At her request the young priest joined her in one of Mendelsohn's duets, which they rendered delightfully. His reverence then favoured us with an Italian canzcna, by Pergolesi, which enraptured me, and made me long for that sweet land whose very language is music spoken. "Doubtless," said I to him, "you must find the '' perusal of an Italian book a great resource after a hard day's "work up here in the mountains 1'' "Yes," he replied, "a '' great comfort at all times when I have leisure. I never tire "of Tasso or Dante, and never feel solitude irksome with either "of these within reach. Here," he continued, " is a volume of '' Piranesi's Views in Ron1e, which I delight to contemplate; "for, on turning the1n over, I feel almost as if I were back " again in the holy city, among its wondrous monuments, '' ancient and !r!-Odern. Here's St. Peter's and the Vatican, " and nothing can be more faith£ ul than this engraving, with its "marvellously accurate perspective." "Pardon me," said I, " I have often heard people ask, what does his Holiness want "with such a vast palace 1" "'Tis a curious question," replied xxxiv . PREF.A.CE.

the curate; "but easily answered. His Holiness, I believe, as "far as he is personally concerned, is content with a few "poorly furnished apartments in that unrivalled palace ; but " I need hardly tell you that he has to lodge the whole heathen '' Mythology-all the gods and goddesses, the Cresars-nay, the "busts and statues that are being hourly exhumed from the "ruins of Ancient Rome. Some one has remarked that if " all the divinities saved from ruin by the Popes could be "ani~ated by a spark of Promethean fire, and step down from "their pedestals, they would fill a space vaster than that of St. '' Peter's piazza. Then, again, the halls, galleries, and chapels "of the Vatican teem with the works of Raffael and Angelo, "and other great men; to say nothing of the extensive depart­ " ments sacred to the early Christian monuments-epitaphs, '' manuscripts, books, numismatic collections, and other objects ''which owe their preservation to the Pontiffs, but for whom "Art in all its varieties n1ust have vanished from the world. "If the old Romans could boast that they conquered Greece '' and brought its divinities captive to Latium, the Pontiffs '' can, with equally good reason, say that they effected their re­ " surrection from the graves into which they were precipitated "by Goth, Vandal, and Hun. Surely you would not expect "that Angelo could have translated the ' D'i,es Irae' on a " surface equal to that of the space above the altar in the " Flannel Hall, or that Raffael could have painted the ' Re­ " lease of St. Peter,' 'The Apparition of the Cross to Cons tan­ , , tine,' or his other glorious works on a superfi.cies commen­ '' surate with that of the gable-end of the little church in "Clara. The genius of Catholicity and its aspirations are all "but infinite, and the works of the Pontiffs, without whom we "never would have had either an Angelo or a Raffael, are of "the same dimensions. Nevertheless I have no doubt that, '·' apart from those magnificent surroundings, such as no other "king in the universe ever possessed, my own kind-hearted "parish priest is a~ well lodged as his pres-ant Holiness or any. "of his predecessors ever was." "That,'' said I, "is what I call "talk with skin on it ; but doubtless you must feel rather PREFACE. XXXV

''queer in such places of worship as Clara and the Flannel '' Hall, which is the 1nost singular designation I have ever heard '· given to a church." "Not so much so as you seem to imagine,'' answered the , curate, "for, miserable as those places are, we can dispense sa-:- '' cramental graces within them, and expound God's niessage to " the people. Our baptistery is not like that of Constantine "before the L'.1teran, or that of Florence or Pisa, with its "stupendous dome, which, when the sun's rays strike it, glows " like a fallen planet. Nevertheless, spiritual regeneration can "be effected here as well as there; and although our altars '' lack sculpture, painting, and mosaic, they witness the same " prodigy that is wrought under the gigantic bronze baldachino '' of St. Peter's. We hope for better times, when the piety of '' the people will build an edifice more suited to the require- '' nients of our religion. 1\ieanwhile we must be content with "what we have. It would be idle for us to think of ever " raising a church like any of those you meet at every page of "the volume before you. All the money in the universe could '' not revive the architects who designed or the painters and '' sculptJrs who decorated them. Since, however, we cannot " erect material edifices of that character, we must do as well '' as we can with Clara, Moycredin, and the Flannel Hall, whose '' simplicity likens them to great truths. And is there not "s@mething indescribably affecting in tl1at siinplicity which "touches our sensibilities more than gilded roofs or altars of lapis-

" laziili could do? The very indigence of the altar, it has been well i "remarked, providecld all its sacred appurtenances are what the '' Rubric requires, has something venerable and pathetic which '' appeals to our sympathies with irresistible effect. I have seen "village churches, some twenty or thirty miles outside the walls " of Ror.. 1e, which were almost as bare of ornament as any I "have visited li,ere. Within the1n, however, I beheld living '' pictures far 1nore touching than any that ever came from the 1 " easel. Fancy one of those filled with a devout peasantry "assisting at Mass celebrated by an aged priest, who, when the "lloly sacrifice was offered, descended from the poor altair, and, XXXV.1 PREFACE,

"kneeling on its nethermost step, intoned the sublime invoca- ,. ·Gions of the Loretto Litany. Fancy, I say, the sonorous. "Latinity of that mo~t poetic of prayers 'Rosc1, Mystica,' "' Turris.Ebu,rnea,' 'Damus A·u,rea,' 'Consolatrix A_fjlictornm,' "and the entire congr jgation blending in the harmoni.ous re­ ' on;;;e 'Ora, pro ·,wo:s.' Imagine this, and a.sk yourself could " St. Peter's, with all its glories, inspire a devotion more heart­ ,. felt, or enthusiasm more seraphic. I do not believe it could ; "and because we can produce similar effects here I willingly '' admit that I am not so affected as you suppose by the poverty "of the precincts, which, I think, were more fittingly designated "p ·o-chn; che 1. No bi~hop would think of consecrating such "a11 edifice as theFlann31 Hall, where, I am sorry to say, yoa '·couldn't now purchase as much of that 5!taple as would sufifoe to '~ make a bandage for a toothache ; and we Catholics regard it '' merelyas a temporary halting place for the ark in our passage. ': A few years hence, when our eyes shall have grown ac­ " customed to the light-for you know that the gloo1n of political "and religious servitude to which we were consigned for cen­ " t1:ries has well nigh blinded us-we will raise the cross and fill "the ln.nd with temples, such as would rejoice our ancestors if ''they could leave their graves to visit them-temples worthy " of that Religion which has made Art her anointed ser­ ,., vant. • • . . But here come the parish priest, my col­ ' 'league, and our worthy host in quest of a cup of coffee. • '' Another song, madam, I beseech you, before the coffee is '' poured out," said Father F--. '' I only ca.ught a faint " echo of the first, owing to your good n1an's incessant talk. . " Pardon, me, friend," interposed our host, " you took care ' "to have it all toyourselt, ·and:seemed to think more of your own "prose than Moore's poetry. However, madam will not re• ·' tuse." "Let it be short," said the parish-priest; "for I have to rise "early to go to a station at Anghrim, and this youngster has a "long ride before him to Grenane." The song sung and coffee taken, the big priest, pointing to the little one, whispered in ·1~y ear, "How did you get on with him 1" "Oh," said I, in .. XXXVll t.he same tone, '' He's not able to hold a candle to you." "·To '' which T will add," whispered Father F--, " there's not a '' 1nan in the parish could do that. \Vhenever you visit Bally­ '' nockin you'll have cordial greeting. My horse is at the· door. " Good· night. God bless you ! Come along, you sprite," he continued, raising his voice and addressing himself to his youthful colleague, "I'll leave you beyond the haunted rath, " lest the fairies might make away with you." " You're in safe '' keeping," said the parish priest, laying his hand affectionately on the young man·s head, "for were Fin Mac Cool himself to rise, he'd pause before encountering Father F-." "It would stand him upon," replied the latter, with an unmistake­ able wink. A few moments afterwards my friend and I took leave of our kind hosts, and walked leisurely homewards. "John," said he, "to-morrow will be Friday, and I must be fro1n home '' till after dinner-time. Everything, however, shall be ready " for you, and you n1ust amuse yourself as well as you can on "that and the next day. You know that Saturday's duties are "onerous, and that I have to prepare my sermon for Sunday. "The Catechism of the Council of Trent is outspoken on this '' subject. Excuse me, therefore, in consideration of the calls "on my time. But, tell me, what do you think of the young '' curate 1" "Everything that is good. He's quite to my taste­ " so n1uch so that I mean to cultivate his acquaintance. In " fact, I'm half inclined to think that he is nearly as clever as '' myself, but I doubt that he could have got half the pre1niums " that fell to my share in Clongowes. He converses well, has '' an extensive know ledge of books, and I predict he will yet " make a decent figure in the world. This is the intellectual " aspect of him; but as for the physical, I'd venture to say '' he has no fitness for the duties of this parish. An exotic "of his sort must die of the cold if left here during winter." "Now, John," replied the parish priest, "keep what I am '' going to tell you to yourself. I love that young man with a '' father's love, and, without consulting him, I wrote to the '' archbishop, begging his grace to remove him to Dublin, be- XXXVlll PREF.A.CE.

" cause I foresaw that his health must suffer if he were to pass "the winter here. I regret to be obliged to part with hin1; " but I prefer his well-being to any selfish wish of my own. " The archbishop has written that he will comply with 1ny re­ ,, quest before the fall of the leaf.'' '' The archbishop," said I, " has hit upon the right time, for were the poor fellow to re­ " main here after that, he 1night aptly quote for his grace the '' words of Job-' Against a leaf that is carried away with the '' ' wind thou showest thy power, and tho% pursuest a d1·y straw.' " But 'tis just what I'd expect from you both ; and of the two I " don't know which is the kinder or more sensitive to the re­ ,' quirements of your ~ubordinates. I had the honour of re­ " ceiviug many a premium from the archbishop while I was at "Olongowes. " · " But tell me," said the parish priest, while the servant was lighting our bedroom candles, '' what do you think of Father " F-1" " What do I think of him 1 Well, as regards " fluency, he beats any man I ever met ; and as for thew and "sinew, he might serve as a 1nodel for an improved Hercules. " I am sorry I did not see his horse, for he must be like those '' ridden of old by the Norman knights with sundry stone of "iron harness on their backs. His canine knowledge reminds "me of Virgil's description of Diana-' notior non est Delia "' canibus suis ;' and I'd fain hope that his acquaintance with " a higher order of dogmatic facts is in keeping. He's a won­ " derful talker, but I'd say misplaced.'' " Misplaced !" echoed my friend. '' Aye, 'misplaced' is the word, for he should be ap­ '' pointed bursar to Maynooth, with this verse of the Psalm for "his motto-' Thou hast subjected all things unde1· his feet, all " 'sheep and oxen; moreove1' the beasts cilso of th_e field.' In fact, " he knows as much about them as Billy Murphy does." . . ''Knowledge of that kind," replied the parish priest, turning the handle of his bedroom-door, "although not necessary for "our pastoral office, is, withal, useful to the less-enlightened "people among whom we live. I have seen a priest bless brute "beasts in the front of St. Antony's Church at Rome-'tis a H good and holy usage; nor do I see why a priest should not, if . PREFACE. XXXIX

"he knows how, save a poor man's cow or horse from dfstemper, "either by prayer or those remedies with which he can easily "make himself acquainted. Father F- is an excellent "priest, and although he may not have impressed you so_ "favorably as the young Roman did, I hope I 1nay not die till '' I see him promoted." "Just like you," said I; "for, loving your flock as you do, "you could not be otherwise than affectionately attached to the "dogs that guard it against the biped wolves which prowl about "the fold. I beg, however, you won't tell big Father F-­ " that I used that word in any but the :figurative sense; '' for I'm prone to believe that he is not one of the "dumb dogs described by Isaia as unable to bark, and, I might '' add, bite. . . . Good night, dear friend, and, as poor " Father F-- used to say to n1e in Clongowes-' f elicissimo " riposo. "' · "Breakfast is served, sir," said a gentle voice at mybed-room door while I was dressing, between seven and eight o'clock next morning. "Thank you, Mrs. Norton, I'll be do ,vn as soon as "yourself." "I was afraid, sir," continued the kind woman, raising a cover from a white d.elf dish, as I seated myself at the table, '' that the trout would be cold. 'Tis a fine speckled "one, and was caught a few hours ago, along with a few others, "for his reverence's dinner this evening. I hope you'll like it. At "all events, you will find the butter and eggs fresh, and, should "you want anything, I'll be within call." Want anything, said I to myself-impossible just now, with such fare before me. De­ licious fish, butter smacking of heather and thy1ne, and tea so fragrant, to say nothing of the cream, that I am almost tempted to like that unlovable people, the Chinese. If it was Confucius who taught them to cultivate that plant, he is entitled to the gratitude of the civilised world. Strange, is it not, that this exhilarating beverage should have traversed thousands 0f ocean miles to furnish my meal on this Wicklow mountain! And yet, there are people who'd prefer to it the maddening draught . . . people who purchase folly and death at so much per bottle ! Heaven convert them ; and may it preserve long and xl PREF.A.CE.

nappily the good priest who provided for me-shall I say it 1-so lu ~i.1riously. . • • A touch of the bell brought Mrs. ~ orton into the breakfast room. '' The priest must have risen " early," said I, " for I didn't hear him go down stairs." "Ah, '· sir,"shereplied, "he never makesnoise-he's sogentle and con­ , .siderate. He rose very early, and by this time 1nust be in '' A.ughrim, where he hoped to catch big Pat Mullins before "he had time to go down into the mine in Glenmalure, where "he works.'' " Pat Mullins-what special business had t.he '' priest with him 1" " Pat, sir, is only after getting out of \Vicklow Jail, where he spent nigh two months." '' And for '' what 1" '' For hea~ing a faction at the last pattern of the " Churches against the Byrnes." " What,'' I asked, "was the '' casns belli, or, in plain English, the cause of quarrel 1" '' Well, "sir, Pat, who is a veryable fellow, was courting a girl of the '' Byrnes up yonder near Knockrea, but her father said against '' him, and Pat went to the pattern with a strong faction of "his own, fell upon that of the young slip's father, gave them '' a cruel beating, and was sentenced as I told you. His re­ " verence wants to n1ake peace, and will, I hope, help Pat to "get the girl." . . • The old, old story, said I to myself, Helen of Troy, Devorgilla. Jealousy, disappoint­ ment, love, for I presume Pat Mullins was in love. These 1 are, have been, and ever more shall be the exhaustless sources of petty bickerings and great wars. Columbkill acted wisely when he excluded cows from the Island 9S Iona. '' Where "there's a cow," said he, "there mustabt-i u. woman, and where­ " ever there's a woman there must be mischief, always excepting "such grave and steady ones as Mrs. Norton. Factions, too, "must be till the end of time; for, after all, don't two great ''factions divide the world-that of the happy and that of the '' wretched ?" '' I hope, sir, you won't feel lonely to-day in his reverence's '' absence. If you step into the study you can have books to '' amuse you. His reverence won't return till late to-night, ,

"but you can have dinner at any hour you like. Don't be i "offended with me for saying that you must not go next or PREFACE.

"nigh the priest to-morrow, for after he returns from hearing '' confessions in the Flannel Hall, he shuts himself up to prepare ' : his sermon, and takes his meal alone in the study." "Mrs. Nor­ '' ton, I am obliged to you for the hint, and you may rest assured '' that I'll respect the priest's privacy. As for feeling lonesome, "have no apprehension on that point; for I can bear solitude '' as well as n1ost men. Indeed, I am convinced that the man "who cannot put up with it, if he be not actually vicious, must "have the germ of every vice in his nature. Come with me '{ into the study and I'll provide myself with soine goodly '' book." After running n1y eye over the shelves, I took down a handsomely bound volume. '' This,'' said I, "will suit. '' What better could I have than the Paradiso 1" '' God bless "his reverence," said Mrs. Norton, "the last time he was in "Dublin he bonght me the very sarne book." . "\Vhat !" I said, "the Paradiso 1" "Yes, '.sir, isn't it the Path of Para­ ,, dise you're after taking down 1" "Not exactly, l\.irs. Norton; "this is an Italian poet's work. I don't know who was the author "of your Paradise, but I have little doubt that it has led more "people to heaven than Dante's ever did or will do. Now, '' have a slight refection for lme at sunset-an egg, some '' salad, and anything else you like. Have the goodness to '; give 1ue l\i1ungo -for a companion, and I'll leave you alone." A few moments afterwards the dog was at my side flaring his great tail and looking inquisitively at my eyes, as if asking whither are you going? "Mungo," said I, "it o..:curs to me that "the fittest place to re3,cl a few cantos 0£ the Paradiso is the '' priest's garden, which I have not yet seen." Is it not true that G ,d thought man could not be anywhere on earth so happy as in a garden, and what else does the word Paradiso signify? Rais­ i :1g the latch, we entered the little enclosure, which was situated on a slope that exposed it to the sun's rising and parting rays. The cultivation _of this secluded spot, thought I, must afford the priest delightful relaxation. Here are a few apple and pear trees, vegetables, and wall-fruit £or his frugal table, and flowers for his altar. Here, too, is a shady little arbour, with its tiny table, and graceful fig11re of that spotless and xlii PREFACE.

most blessed creature to whom the volume in my hand addresses the sublimest apostrophes ever said or sung since the days of Bernard of Clairvaux. Yonder in the sunny corner stand three bee-hives, the hum 0£ whose swarm, a great philosopher has said, is a thousand times preferable to that of popular assemblies. Ah, it is a sweet spot, a lovely picture, with its jets of light, masses of shade, beautiful flowers, and balmy odours. Long may the good priest enjoy it; may he live till the youngest of his spiritual children shall have grown grey and stricken in years. "Now, Mungo, lie still, or, if it '' liketh thee better, scent out thy favourite weed in the hedge­ ,, row ; but act with thy wonted sagacity, and touch not with '' thy nose the lavender, or the rose-leaves, where the bees depas­ " ture. Make no foolish experiments, for, like hypocrites, bees '' have honeyed-tongues, though they conceal the sting." I spent the greater part of that day perusing sundry cantos of the Paradiso without feeling the time glide by or wishing for the society of any human being. How totally devoid, thought I, are Dante' pages, of fatiguing uniformity, and how varied the perspectives his· divine poem presents to the imagination. The ." Paradiso" is pre-eminently his noblest work, and some of its cantos have peculiar charms for me. · Surely nothing he has written can excel Beatrice's discourse on the soul's immortality and the resurrection of the body. Then, as for biography, can anything be more graceful than St. Thomas' descriptien of the life of St. Francis of Assisi, or St. Bonaventure's story of St. Dominic 1 What mind but Dante's could have conceived the examination on faith, hope, and charity to which he was sub­ .jected by ~he three glorified Apostles; or does the literature of the world contain anything half so majestic as the prayer to the Blessed Virgin which he makes St. Bernard utter 1 The latter, indeed, was a poet, but, in my opinion, nowise comparable to Dante, whose paraphrase of the '' Memo rare O Virgo Maria" eclipses the splendour of the original from which he derived inspira­ tion. Yes, he was the greatest genius, and, if I may be permitted to say so, the most superhuman of all the poets that ever lived. ·well may the Italians boast that heaven and earth had a PREFACE. xliii

·hand in the "Divine C01nedy." Next to him I'd rank the great dramatist, Shakspeare, one of whose most glorious de­ scriptions-I mean the character of Wolsey-is paraphrased from Campion, whose "Historie of Ireland" hardly deserves the name. With the " Paradiso" for a companion, a man can luxuriate among the heavenly intelligences; and with Shak­ speare live a thousand lives among the mighty dead. Who bet­ ter than these two can fill up the spaces of imaginn.tion or de­ light us with scenes which none but they could depict 1 Were their works lost, who could replace either of them 1 Is it not ·st.range that they are not frequently quoted in the pulpit 1 Both were great moralists-infinitely greater than some of those we find cited in the Scriptures of the New Testament. Our Blessed Redeemer himself, in the Gospel of St. Luke, quotes a proverb that was com1non among the Jews of his time, who learnt it, probably, from the Greek poet, Eschilus-'' Physician, heal thyself." Does not Paul, in his Epistle to Titus, denounce the sensuality of the Cretians through the n1outh of one of their own poets, Epimenides, who stigmatises the1n as '' liars, evil beasts, and slothful?" Does he not also quote the Athenian poet, Menander, when speaking of evil communications that corrupt good manners, and Aratus, the Cilician, when, ad­ dressing the Athenians on the nature of the true God, he tells them, "in Him we move and live and be, as so1ne of your poets said, for we are also His offspting ?" Final}y, does he not press into the service of Christian life a remarkable illus~ration borrowed from Plato-'' Everyone that strivethfor the mastery tefraineth hin1self from all things"-superadding that they did so for sake of a perishable crown ; whereas our prize is an incor­ ruptible one 1 Paul was a native of Tarsos, in Cilicia, where there was a colony of Jews ; and there can be no doubt that he made himself thoroughly acqu3:inted with Greek literature, so n1uch so tkat he was able to quote, when it served his purpose, their poets, philosophers, and legists. vVhy should not our priests act in like manner and draw largely on Dante especially, who is pre~ eminently the Christian poet, philosopher, and philologist 1 PREF.A.CE

Shall I moot this subject to Father D--1 Perhaps it were wise to not do so, for he 111ight remind me of what Saint Basil Slid io the cook who quoted a passage of holy writ-" friend, y JUr business is to dress meats and not to cook dogmas." I read this passage in T ~ieodoret's Life of that great Father of the Church, and it ought, perhaps, have given my musings another direction. Valuable sentiments, instead of beirig suggested, should be inspired. Having replaced the "Paradiso" on its shelf, Mungo and I crossed the fields in order to get a look at the Flannel Hall, which I found to be a large square edifice without any preten­ sion to architecture, but well suited for a great mart. The in­ scription and escutcheon of the Fitzwilliams under the parapet informed me that it was built in 1793, when I presume it was a place of great resort for the manufacturers of flannel and woollens, who brought these fabrics from Kilkenny and the neighbouring counties. The aspect of the . place was ehilling, and suggested decayed trade and bankruptcy. "This," said I, addressing a very old man seated at one of the walled-up door::-, "was a famous place in its time." "Yes, sir," he replied, "it "was a busy place before the Union, and I re1nemher when "it used to be filled a;1nually with blankets, cloth, and wool. -" Buyers used to come frorr1 England, Dublin, and all parts, and 1 "spent a power· of money in the town." " There's no flannel " here now." '' No, not a yard ca11 you get for love or money- " sure the Union knocked up all that." "\iVhat use docs the "place serve now?" "Well sir, the Protestants have the upper '' part of it, while their church yonder is repairing ; and there·s " a man in the town who has got up a sect the right name of , '' which I don't know-I think he calls the1n New Lights-and "they have another corner of it. The Catholics, God help "them, have to scruge themselves as well as they can into thJ '' corridor on the left there on Sundays ~nd holidays." '' vVhat "are the rusted spikes on the parapet ?" I asked, pointing to them. '' Oh, sir, during '98, the Government 1nade the place a "prison, and the spi.kes were put up to hould the heads of the '' 'boys' that used to be caught by the yeo1nen." '' Did you :PREFACE,

"ever see a human head impaled there ?" "Faith I did, and '' plenty of them, and what's more, I remember the time when '' a remnant of the ould yeos-some used to call them gun... '' beggars-forced the Catholics to walk under an arch ·they '' used to get up every Twelfth of July. They were cruel tim~s " entirely ; but they're not so bad now, bekase the ould yeos are "dyin' out, and I needn't tell you that they leave a power of '' dry eyes behind them~" '~ Do you know the Briton ?'' '~y~3, "by sight--sure every one knows the murderin' ould rascat ,~ He's a process-sarver, and, thank God, he can't shoot '' people now as he u,sed to do in '98. I remember w~ll the " day he shot poor Nolan, one side of Grenane." "For '' what ?" '' For being a Roman; or in other words bekase he ' was a Caiholic. The Briton made no more of shooting one ~ 'of,them than he did of aigrouse." ''.Was Nolan killed ?" "Well; "no sir, he lived seven years after- gettin' the shot, but he was "cripplAd all his life. His son lives in Glen1nalure." "Is thj Briton well off?" '( Much better than he deserves.....,.,.he has a, comfortable house, plenty of whiskey and tobacco." ·" And doubtless," I added, "pleasant recollections of '98," ''Pleasant! "How could they be so, if they ould vagabone has a con­ " science; but I suppose he has not. Faith, I don't see ho\V " he or any of his comrogues could be pleasant or happy, for '' they all look like oulcl dogs that had their teeth drawn ; all '' they can do now is bark, but no body minds them ?" (' Can ·" you tell me anything about the peculiar dootrines of the New "Lights 1" ~' Sorra m,uch; all I know is that they're ~t war wi_th '' the Rector, l\Ir. G -, wh,o saya they're all goin' the wrong '' road, bekase they don't take the righ,t meanin.' cn:it of the '' Bible ; they say they do, and that they have as good a. right '' to their meanin' as Mr~ G------has to his~ There's, only one '' point on which they're agreed, and that :i,s to hate the ]?op.e­ " long life to hi,m~and the Catholics that. they caJl idola_thers. " ·vYhen you go down the town you'll see a placard they pu,t out '' to tell the people that if they read the Bible and <],UH the ould '' religion they'll all be saved without doin' a hand's tu~n. Hava '' faith, say they both, and you'll be all right on th~

D I X I Vl. PREFACE.

"judgment." "Faith in what?" "In them, of coorse, what else, for they'd have you believe that they're inspired." " Of "course the Catholics don't mind them.'' "Indeed they " don't trouble their heads about either of them, except to "enjoy the fun of seein' them fightin' about the right meanin' '' of the Scripture 1" '' Is the founder of the New Lights a learned man?" "Larned !-He's as ignorant as a kish of '' brogues-where would the likes 0f him get laruin 1 A child "that knows the Catechism would puzzle him." "Has he many followers?'' "A couple dozen at most--mostly ould '' women, who think the sun shines out of him. They weren't " content with the Rector's teachin', and, in consequence, went " over to the New Lights." " I am surprised to hear," said I, '' that a man of this queer fellow's kind could get any one to '' follow him." ''Well, sir,,, replied the old man, rising to go away, "when you are a few years oulder you'll find that every . '' humbug-the pretended religious one especially-will always '' have followers among credulous good-for-nothing women. It "was so in the tin1es of the Apostles, and sure human nature '' is the san1e now it was then. I wish you good evening.,: Retracing n1y steps across the fields, I pondered the parting words of the old man, and, without much difficulty, perceived that they contained a volume of truth. He is right, said I to 1nyself, for charlatanism will evermore attract a swarm of dupes. Lively imaginations are contagious, and, when distempered, will invariably befool their owners. But what am I to think of the founder of this new sect with the strange name 1 What but that he mistakes this Will-o'-the-Wisp of his for some new planet in in the Gospel firmament hitherto in visible to every eye but his own 1 Isn't this delusion very common; and don't we find hourly that everyone has some ignis f at·uus which he takes to be the torch of truth 1 Light poetry, vicious romn,nces-for good ones enlarge the world of thought, and multiply creation and life-s.parkle with this marsh­ fire, lead astray and bewilder us. But where did this arrogant sectarist discover his new light and motives for dissenting from what is c~lled the Established Church, and PREFACE. xlvii creating a new orbit for himself 1 Where but in the pages of the Bible, which he had as good a right to expound, af -' r his own fashion, a:a the Rector who denounces him has or can have? Was not Luther a new light in his way, and did he not insist that every one has an incontrovertible right to read and interpret the inspired volume, thus arming them with a re­ doubtable and arbitrary weapon 1 0£ this there can be no doubt, and the Rector, consequently, is not justified in finding fault with this or any other sectarian's deductions. Surely it was this spirit that prompted Luther to reject papal authority, to repudiate the dogmas of the Church, to dissolve, disintegrate, and persuade rebellious monks and laymen, to turn traitors t'o the Church which demanded of them obedience to its dogmatic and disciplinary definitions. . With the Bible in your hands, said the apostate friar, you can enter into direct communication with the cabinet of heaven, and possess yourselves of its keys without recurring to popes, bishops, councils, or priests. Why, then, should not the founder of the New Lights avail of this privilege, and maintain his teaching against the Rector's arbitrary interpretation 1 Why could not the one as well as the other set up a claim to inspiration and revel in his world of ideal happiness 1 But what says the Church about the reading of the holy volume 1 That it may be used with great spiritual profit, provided it be perused with reverence and the proper dispositions. Can this be realised if it be read without note or comment 1 Most certainly not ; for it teems with difficulties, whose elucidation has taxed the profound study of the wisest and most holy men this world has ever seen, to say nothing of the great Councils whose deliberations were employed to ascertain and develop its meaning. Even in the apostolic times, before the echo of their words had died away, Peter, chief of the Church on earth, thought it neces&ary to rebuke the New Lights of his day for giving their own interpretation of Paul's epistles, "in which,'' he says, '' are certain things hard t~ he understood, which the "unlearned and unstable wrest, as they do also the other Scrip­ " tures, to their own destruction." Some four centuries after :dviii PREFACE.

Peter's day, Saint Jerome, to whom the world is indebted for Biblical knowledge of the most erudite kind, lashed with his pen the ignorant pretenders who assumed that they were ~m­ powered to interpret the holy pages according to their own caprice. " The garrulous old woman," says this great doctor, "the crazed old man, the· verbose wrangler, mutilate and teach the Scriptures before they have even learnt them." Were he to rise out of his grav~ now, what other con1ment could he make on the absurd doings and sayings of the literate and il­ literate who wrest the sacred volume as they list 1 Is it not tr 1e that a medical doctor will forbid a patient to peruse "Buchan's Domestic ~tldicine" for his own cure, and is it not equally true that a lawyer will advise a man against becoming his own advocate 1 And if there be sound reason for inhibition of this kind regarding things of earth, is there not still sounder in the conduct of the Church, which warns against reading the sacred volun1e without approved note and comment, since its text relates chiefly to things spiritual? For my own part, I can avow that I read the Bible from cover to cover 11nder the guidance of my respected preceptor, Father F--, and such enlightenment as I could procure. from the tomes of A. Lapide, and have arrived at this conclusion, that it is the grandest bo~k which has ever been composed, abounding in narrative of most delightful character, but at same time replete with enigmas most difficult to be resolved, histories with which many things scandalous are interwoven, and numerous passages and incidents calculated to blind intelligence and deprave the heart if cast indiscriminately among the 1nasses or perused without ample elucidations and that prayerful caution which the Church requires of even the most intelligent of its members. To the indiscriminate perusal of Scripture we may attribute every heresy and every sort of frantic paradox, and were it to be used without note and comment, there is hardly a crime for which the perpetrator might not find a plau.:. sible justification in its pages. I have read of a Dutchman in ;he seventeenth century, who undertook to prove from various pass ges of both Testaments, that he was the son of God, PREFACE. xlix

and of an Englishwoman (cardinal Bellarmin relates it) who, on hearing a preacher quote the passage of Ecclesiasticus­ '' The wickedness of a woman changeth her face • • • as a '' yoke of oxen that is moved to and fro, so also is a wicked '' woman : he that hath hold of her is as he that taketh hold '' of a scorpion''-asked is that the Word of God, and on being told it was, exclaimed-'' nay, rather, the word of the devil," and swept out of the church. Withal, I may not gainsay the doctrines of the New Lights, whatever they may be as against the Rector's, for both are inspired alike, and I'd fain hope that both will sooner or later see the error of their ways, and take refuge in the one true Church. A long soliloquy this, said I inwardly, as I sat down to the , meagre but wholesome fare which my host's housekeeper set before me. Having despatched it I set out with Mungo for that spot where the Avonmore makes a deep translucent pool, and on the way addressed my companion thus-" Mungo, '' should that fellow called the Briton cross our path and offer '' thee violence, deign not to resent it. Let me do battle for "thee ; but stick no white tooth of thine in such a carrion ; a '' dog of thy good breeding should fly at higher quarry than a "worn-out gun-beggar of '98. Let remorse worry and bite "him, and I hope he has it, for those who feel it not are doomed '' here and hereafter. . . . There now, into the cooling '' pond, luxuriate in it, iinagine thyself back again in the frigid "region where thou wert pupped, and having rolled thyself in "the long grass, let me conduct thee safe and sound to thy good " 1naster. " The sun had gone down behind Derrybawn that evening as Mungo and I walked slowly towards the presbytery. Suddenly my mute companion pricked up his ears and bounded off across the ditch which meared my reverend host's little lawn. He's come home, said I to myself, and despite the housekeeper's in­ terdict I'll have a few words with him before he retires for the night. How wonderful the instinct of that faithful brute, and how affectionate the master who owns him ! Isn't there a Persian proverb which says that a king is safer with loving sub- 1 PREF.A.CE.

jects than with valiant soldiers 1 I met the pastor in his study, where he asked me to join him in a cup of tea. "I am pretty "well tired,"- said he, " after a hard day's toil; my business was '' not easily accomplished, but thank God, I have brought it to '' a happy issue. I have been reconciling two factions, healing . '' feuds, and negotiating preliminaries of a marriage. The chiefs "have shaken hands, and Pat Mullins is to have the hand and " heart of the fair young damsel whose father was opposed to '' the match. I hope in God it will be for the advantage of all '' parties concerned." '' Blessed," I replied, '' are the peace­ '' makers, and I congratulate you on the success of your mission. "Who but a priest coul~ thus influence the belligerents or ex­ " orcise the demon of strife from an Irishman's breast ? Heaven "grant that that power may never be impaired or diminished !'' " It never can be, John," said the pastor, '' as long as the clergy "of Ireland make common cause with the people who have " stood by them faithfully in the worst of times-nay, often "sacrificed life itself for their comfort and preservation. How.. "ever much we may excel the warm-hearted peasant in point " of intelligence, I doubt that we can ever cherish stronger '' affection for him than he cherishes for us. Oh, how many "proofs I could give you of their devoted attachment to us, " of their simple reverence for our order. God grant us grace "to discharge our duty faithfully to them ; for of all the "calamities that could befall Ireland, I know none that would '' be more disastrous than a change in those kindly relations '' that have always subsisted between people and priest·. To­ " day I shared the dinner of a strong farmer's family, and how­ ,' ever humble the fare, and primitive the table's appointments, '' no king ever had such cordial welcome or generous attentions '' from baron or vassal as I had at that board. A noggin of milk '' and a potato there were to my taste far preferable to the "sumptuous viands of a wealthy man's table. I seldom accept '' invitations to the latter, and whenever I do, it is only to show "1ny respect for the inviter. I am well aware that our poor "people have peculiar notions on this subject, and I'd be the " last in the world to give them reason to imagine that I PREFACE. H

"hankered after luxuries, which it is difficult to dissociate from "sensuality. . . . . \Veil, to-morrow amuse yourself as "best you can, for it will be a busy day with me. The house­ ,' keeper will see to your comforts, and on Sunday we will have "the two curates and a gentleman fro1n Dublin to join us at "dinner. Good night, God bless you." Saturday morning, after breakfast, I took from my host's library a volume of Bacon's Essays, and, making my way into the very heart of the dense wood that covers thP. left bank of the Avonmore, stretched myself in the shade, and perused it attentively. It was the first time I ever dipped into those pages which reveal such marvellous wisdom and insight into the workings of the human heart.· . No man ever understood better the agencies that form individual character, and no man ever sounded its depths more truly o:r deeply than he did. But yet do not the experiences of his life show that wisdom can be allied to meanness, avarice, folly, ·and every other vicious shortcoming1 Does not the collapse of this great genius go to prove that he lacked practical wisdom, however much he was conversant with its theories, and that a mind like his, which scaled the heights of all knowledge, could grovel in the slough of peculation 1 Since the time of Lucifer was ever fall like his, so sudden and­ so humiliating ! Some there have been, like Antaeus, who, when cast down, received fresh vigour from contact with mother earth, and soared higher than ever; but Bacon lost all recuperative energy, and never rose again after his first fatal and .final fall. How was he benefited by his pl· Josophy '? Personally nowise, for he seems not to have underF' ·,vod that true philosophy is nothing more than the study of .eath, or that of true religion, God, and virtue. Did .he e~ ~r ponder the apostolic warning against the danger of lapsr. or, with all his learning, comprehend the profound wisdom i Ken1pis' words-' ''Twere better to feel com­ punction than Jo be able to define it ?" During 1ny solitary dinner this 1.ibject engaged my thoughts, and it was not till sleep ser 1 J 1ny eyes that I ceased to dwell on the importanl; lessonr ,rhich Bacon's vicissitudes suggested. } ., nine o'clock next morning I set out for the Flannel H.tll, lii PREF.A.CE.

whither a large crowd ·was hastening to assist at Mass. The pastor had risen early in order to hear the confessions of those who were about to receive the adorable sacra1nent, and was robing at the altar (vestry there was none) when I entered that temporary church. It was crowded to inconvenience by a devout congregation, many of whom had to kneel outside the doors in order to comply with the Church's requirement. Here, said I to myself as I knelt down, is simplicity enough as far as c:1urch decoration is concerned, but, after all, is it not true that a crowded and pious assemblage is the highest adornment a place of this kind can have 1 There was neither choir nor organ; but there was what sounded far more musically to my ears-the suppressed hum of fervent prayer, and, above all, that effusion of the heart which became still more audible when the tinkle of the bell announced the consecration. The rapturous sensations, little short of ecstasy, that pervaded the prostrate crowd at that moment may be more readily imagined than described; and so thoroughly was every fibre of my being thrilled by them that I found it hard to exclude the reflections they awakened. The august Presence, however, and the condi­ tions prescribed by the Church for assisting at the holy sacrifice as one is bound to do, effectually silenced the prompting, and instead of thinking of the devotion of those around, counselled n1e to be a petitioner for myself at foot of that poor altar. At the post communion the pastor divested himself of the chasuble, and, fronting the people with the Gospels in h~s hand, read in a clear and well-articulated tone the beautiful passages from St. Matthew-'' Consider the lilies of the field how they '' grow ; they labour not, neither do they spin. But I say to '' you, that not even Solomon in all his glory was arrayed as "one of these." The train of outspoken thought which our Lord's words suggested was eminently instructive and edifying, and the pastor dwelt at considerable length on the link that exists between natiiral beauty and .the spiritiw,l, which is of a higher order. The one, said he, may be regarded as the source from which the other derives its being, while the terrific in Nature inspires the evil-minded with wicked thoughts, hatreds, PREF.ACE, rancour, discord-in short, with most 0£ those passions that develop themselves in guilt and infraction 0£ God's law. In the darkness 0£ night, when the stars are blurred in the sky, on the lonely beach where nothing is heard but the booming 0£ the sea, or amid mountain crags where even the hardy oak refuses to strike root, the ill-disposed heart will seek sympathetic associa­ tions while nerving itself for crime against God and man. The horrid in Nature is the fittest scene for such a one, and the most congenial to his moody thoughts. The unlovable or unamiable man can see nothing in the loveliness of the landscape that is not in direct antagonism to the projections of his own malignant spirit, which cherishes a decided antipathy to everything that God has made beautifully visible to our ey€s. How strongly doth not a loveable nature, a well-disposed soul, contrast with one of this disposition ! The azure sky, un:flecked by a cloud, the waving corn, the murmuring rivulet, and above all, the flowers of the field and of the garden, inspire hhn with holy tho 1ghts, awaken feelings of love for God and his kind, and dispose hhn to acts of benevolence, which, if not rewarded here below, are sure to have their guerdon in Heaven. Yes, there is an absolute repulsion between scenes of beauty and evil­ mindedness ; for the one cannot by any possibility, except the imagination be sadly distempered, inspire the other. Nature acknowledges its impossibilities-thistles do not gender figs, nor thorns grapes. But the words of our Redeemer impart a far more solemn lesson than that of the kinship between the beauti­ ful in Nature, and the beautiful in morals. The lilies of the .field ancl every other flower speak to us of his wisdom, love, and magnificence, even as the stars do. On the leaves of each of them he has written his name in le6ible characters, e-ren as he has written it on the stars and the other mighty wonderJ above our heads. And to what end, but that we n1ight have proof of his omnipotence, loving providence, and a right­ ful appreciation of ourselves, and our immortal destinies,-" for if the grass of the field which to-day is and to-morrow is cast into the oven, God doth so clothe, how much more you." He who caused the lily to spring from earth, he whose omnipotent hand PREFACE,

planted the roots of the wall-flower, and caused it to bloom in the clefts of the precipice-he hath greater regard for you, and his providence tracketh you alway with loving heed. In misery, sickness, sorrow of heart, should not this thought be ever present to your convictions-should it not nerve, sustain, and comfort you in every s.r,ecies of tribulation ?-nay, more, should it not speak to you tidings of the life to come, and of the resurrection of the body 1 The flowers of the field must fade and die. The withering winds of autumn will scatter them, and they must sink into the grave ; but when summer's sun returns they will come forth again out of dissolution in renewed beauty and fragrance. , And even so shall it be with us. We one and all must die, and be trodden like the clod of the field ; but that omnipotent power that created the flowers will one . day raise us up out of the clay, and cause the corruptible to put on incorruption, and the mortal immortality. But treasure in your hearts this truth-the immortality of glory is reserved for those who keep Christ's law faithfully, refraining them­ selves fr01n every vice, loving their neighbour, doing ill to no man, and prizing their immortal interests above the deceitful goods of this transitory life. This, of course, is but a shadowy outline of the pastor's dis­ course, which, like his whole life, was a practical c01nmentary on ·l;he Gospels. His venerable person, persuasive manner, sweetly modulated voice, fertility of thought and expression impressed me lastingly, and, if possible, raised him still· higher_ in my esteem. I have never presumed to criticise sermons, which, in my opinion, should rather be turned to good account by those who hear them than judged according to the caprices of each · one's fancy or prepossession. However ungifted the preacher may be, he is nevertheless a sower of the evangelic seed, and if that don't strike root, the misfortune should not be ascribed to the sower, but rather to the unwilling heart of the hearer. Young as I am, I have often and often been obliged to listen to garrulous women and unrefl.ecting n1en rhapsodising about -that and this discourse pronounced by individuals whom _the Apostle must have had in his eye when speaking of tinkling PREFACE. Iv

cymbals and sounding brass. A moment's inquiry, however, sufficed to show that each of those ecstatic critics had an empty head, in which, as a matter of course, sonorous words made a tremendous noise, and nothing more. The best of pulpit orators, says Shakspeare, is he who practises what he preaches, since example is more persuasive than elocution. Pondering all this, I could not help recalling what a poor old woman said when asked what she thought of a sermon.delivered by a clergy­ man whose discourses teemed with metaphysical subtleties, and quintessenced sentimentality-'' Sir, it was the grandest sermon I ever heard ; but how could you expect an ignorant creature lik~ me to understand it 1 What harvests are lost by preachers of that man's sort !" These reflections occupied me while the parish priest was making his thanksgiving at foot of the altar, nor could I avoid remarking that many of the congregation remained kneeling ·a considerable time after the holy sacrifice had been offered. So, thought I, did the Lord's followers tarry about Olivet after he had ascended into Heaven. So did they venerate the spot where he had been lately present to their corporal vision ! At length my good friend joined me, and we walked down the town towards the presbytery. On our way young and old saluted hbn reverently, and he had a kind word for each ; the young . children especially seemed to doat on him, and I never can forget their efforts to obtain his recognition. Some of them, fine little fellows, swift as hares, ran in advance of us, and then wheeling round right in our front, tugged their forelocks till chin and chest were brought into close contact by this simple, · yet sincere act of politeness. "A queer statute," said I, " was '' that of the English parliament held in Kilkenny, which made "it penal to wear glibs. Were it in force now these youngsters ,; would be hard set to salute your reverence." "A curious re­ ,, flection that,'! replied the pastor. "The Kilkenny statutes "seem to have been enacted by an assemblage of tailors and "barbers, whose object, if I mistake not, was to sow dissension " between the English colonists, Catholics as they were, and the , "native Irish, who were to be recognised by the trim of their lvi PREFACE.

"beard and the cut of their coats. They did not, however, sue- " ceed in abolishing the glib, which, you know, furnished the "poet Spencer matter for a long episode in his ' View of '' Ireland.' I will show you an old Catechism composed '' by O'Reilly, archbi =,hop of Armagh, which directs that '' children presenting themselves for Confirmation should have '' the forelock shorn for that solemn occasion. With or without "forelock, however, these children would not fail to show me '' or any other of my calling every mark of outward respect ; for '' they have been taught by their parents to reverence us, not as '' mere men, but as dispensers of the mysteries of God. The " hand they are so anxious to grasp baptized many of them, " broke the Bread of Life to them, and may, perhaps, anoint '' them in mortal illness. The close sympathy that unites us is "not limited to time ; it survives death itself, and exists beyond "the grave. When I have passed away, and those bounding '' innocent creatures, in whose bosoms the germs of many a "passion for good or evil are still undeveloped, shall have "ripened into manhood, they will not forget to pray for me. '' Need I say that if they precede me, I will do the like for them 1 "This may account for the cordial reverence young and old have '' for us, not as ordinary mortals, but as men charged with a '' high and holy mission. 'Tis for this reason, too, that old and '' young call us by the endearing name . of father ; and I can '' safely assert that I have never known a good or thoughtful '' Catholic refuse his priest some outward mark of respect. I "have had to encounter sarcasm and insult from those who are '' not of us ; but the crucifix teaches me to forget and pardon. '' The bitterest insult I could meet is more than compensated by '' the love and veneration of every member of my flock." Breakfast over, my host asked me to accompany him to the Flannel Hall, "where," saidhe, "I willshowyoumyyoungtheolo­ " gians whom I am indoctrinating in the rudiments of the faith." I And indeed it was a pleasant sight to see the crowd of rosy · : children, boys and girls, filling the benches there. The latter had for their inst,ructors several young ladies, who snatched an hour from the day's amusement to enlighten the little girls ; ( r

I PREFACE. lvii

while some stout young men, whose features exhibited earnest-­ ness and intelligence, did the sa1ne for the boys. As we entered they all uprose, and when they resumed their seats the pastor went from form to form questioning this and that one on the sacraments, their obligations to God and their neighbonr, thus dispensing, as it were, drop by drop to those babes of faith, the milk of an instruction, tender, simple, and suited to their capacity. When the time for dispersing sounded, all knelt and joined the priest in a prayer, thanking Heaven for its mercies, and invoking a continuation of its favours. Oh, the glee of those unsullied young hearts as they scampered off, some to their homes, and others into the green fields to disport then1- selves. John, said I to myself, this, mutcttis muta;ndis, is a vision of Clongowes at play-hour, and I begin to feel the . full force of poor Father F _ 's monition, "You will never "again know anything like the happiness you enjoyed there." At the door of the Hall the pastor had to listen to sundry men and women, each of whom came to seek counsel from him. For each he had a word of comfort-hope for the distressed, a remedy for the sick, and a coin from his slender income for the im­ poverished. How they blessed him ! Ah, thought I to myself, there's not on this earth an office comparable to that of a parit.h priest ; nor do I think that Ireland has a better one than this. _; Opening his Breviary, my host told me to amuse myself as well as I could till dinner-time, and that he would overtake me at the presbytery. "I forgot," said he, "that we will have at dinner '' to-day a barrister from Dublin. He is somewhat eccentric, H but withal a good man, the most irrepressible talker, perhaps, " you shall ever meet. He labours under many harmless "illusions, the greatest of which is that he is a distinguished "literary character, because the newspapers publish his ainusing ''epistles." "In short/' I replied, "he is, if I mistake not, a babbler ; "but every one has a hobby, and why should'nt he be allowed " his, always provided he doesn't bore people to death. Language " is one of the greatest of God's gifts ; but it rarely happens " that a man who doesn't know when to hold his tongue is a, lviii PREFACE.

"good talker. Elegance makes the accomplished speaker-elo­ " quence the able orator. A man of genius may, I suppose, "drivel occasionally, but he never can become a mere prater or "pro3y talker. Father F--- told me this when I was head "of the rhetoric class in Clongowes." As I was strolling homewards, my mind reverted to all I had witnessed, and so totally was I absorbed by the reflec­ tions which every incident of the day awakened, that it was five o'clock when I returned to my host's house. The two cnrates, jaded enough by the laborious occupations of the forenoon, and the young barrister who was going circuit, were in the study, waiting the parish priest's appearance. On entering he introduced me to the stranger, and announced that dinner wa;; served. It was a frugal, yet substantial meal, from which ~verything that could savour of luxury was carefully excluded. A flask of the light red wine, with a laurel leaf gracefully hang­ ing out of the mouth of the decanter, was there for any that relished it, and the whole repast terminated with a dessert from th.e priest's garden, and a cup of fragrant coffee. During dinner the curates related the day's experiences, and made their amiable superior acquainted with the names of parties they had either baptized, married, or attended in their last illness during the week. There was noth1ng that concerned his flock that was not thus brought under his notice ; nor did my fellow-layman or I intrude a word while curates and pastor were engaged with these topics. At last, by way, it would appear, of giving a turn to the conversation, the big priest, addressing the barrister, and pointing to his youthful colleague, sportively remarked, "This '' young fellow is sighing after Italy, where they take to their "beds in the middle of the day." "And a very old and vener­ " able habitude it is," replied the barrister. "I spent some "n10nths in Rome, and found a mid-day sleep very serviceable "in such a hot city." "It appears to me," rejoined his big "reverence, "a lazy, indolent habit, and I'd like to know how " you can call it venerable." '' If you don't like that predicate," replied the lawyer, "you cannot object to the word hof1'0nred, ·'' and I think I can prove that the usage is entitled to such PREFACE. lix

'' designation." Hearing this, I said to myself, we are now in for a dissertation as long as the Offices of Holy Saturday, and I'd venture to bet the barrister will imagine that the parish priest is a judge, and the two curates and myself a jury. This is the way that folk of his sort practise their long-winded orations. "Reverend gentlemen, and sir," began the man of law, knitting his brows, and looking as grave as a coffin-maker­ '' if -versicles of holy writ and various passages of classical '' writers can entitle a usage to be styled venerable or honoured­ '.' and I regard both words as synonyms-I have no hesitation in "affirming that the usage of sleeping at mid-day, as practised in '' southGrn countries, and as I myself practised it, is amply '' entitled to that appellation. Its high antiquity is established '' by a passage in the Second Book of Kings, chapter the fourth, '' where we are told that Rechab and Baana, sons of Remmon, '' coming into the house of Isboseth in the heat of the day, '' found him sleeping upon his bed at noon, and the housekeeper '' who was winnowing wheat fallen asleep. I need not tell you '' that the guilty parties availed themselves of this opportunity '' to slay their sleeping brother, who was enjoying the mid-day "siesta. The tenth chapter of the same Book, relating a ''memorably deplorable fact in the history of David, informs "us that he rose from his bed ofter noon and walked on the '' roof of his house, which we may reasonably suppose was flat. "These t~o facts, I need hardly say, are all sufficient for my "purpose, and I deem it almost unnecessary to recal to your "remeinbrances the irrefragable passage in Job, chapter xxiv., "which describes the impious as taking their rest at noon., "among the stores of them they had plunder@d. So much for '' the evidences of holy writ. I will now cast myself with entire '' confidence on early profane authors, to sweep away every '' doubt from your minds-if, indeed, there be shadow of such '' there now-.and convince you that my cli . . . that I "am right, and strongly entrenched in a position from which '' no power of ratiocination can dislodge me. ·Let me then first "draw on arguments supplied by eminent classical prose­ " writers, and I will, by-and-bye, derive confirmation from the lx PREFACE,

" poets. I need not hold up to your admiration the prof 01m d '' research of the younger Pliny, or expatiate on his great con~ '' tributions to the literature of his time. I know, gentle1nen of the "ju . . . reverend sirs, and sir, that you all appreciate " him as much as I do. Well, writing of his uncle, Pliny the "elder, does he not tell us about that great man, inhis third book, '' epistle 5th, that he slept very little after dinner, and then ap­ " plied himself to studytillsupper-time 1 Does he not show that '' his uncle, whose character you all respect, did not indulge "that protracted mid-day repose in which the Romans of his time " were accustomed to luxuriate 1 I might multiply passage after "passage from prose-writers of the Augustan period, if I thought '' that I had'nt already brought conviction home to your minds. " But I pro1nised to quote, for your entire satisfaction, some of '' the poets-and here l am bewildered by the crowd of them who " establish my position on an indestructible basis. Gentlemen, "you are all acquainted with Horace, and whoso' has not en­ " joyed the rich suggestiveness of his pages knows not life, its '' thorough hollowness, and the contempt which is sure to over­ '' take the hypocrite and pretender at some moment of his career. '' Who is there that knows not what that profoundest of moralists '' has said, of knocking a piece-I use plain language suited to c-, every man's capacity-out of the solid day, by not indulging the '' afternoon sleep 1 ' N ec partem solido demere de die'-this " passage occurs in the 1st Ode of the first book. An1 I not '' borne out by theEpigrammatist Martial, who, third book, "Epigram 67, chides the lazy sailors for sleeping away the "noon-tide heat-

Exarsitque dies, et hora lasi:ios Interjungit equos meridiana.

" 1 Then, again, Ovid, that great p0et, so cruelly driven into exile "by Cresar, describes this usage of going to bed at mid-day in "language whose meaning is obvious to everyone :- JEstus erat, mediamque dies egerat horam, Apposui dubio membra levdnda thoro. " But what says Catullus, author of the immortal elegy on the PREF.A.CE. lxi

"death of Leshia's Sparrow, one of the most tencler effusions that "ever flowed from the Castalian fountain ?- Meae deliciae, mei lepores J ube ad te veniam meridiatum/ " I will not translate this sybaritic invitation, but the significance "of the last word of the couplet is cleared up in the following h line:- ~Jane pransus jaceo, et satur, supinus. '' As though he would have said, 'after dinner I will be stretched "supine.' Now, gentlemen, I think I have laid before you "from the Latin poets evidences which men blessed with your '' fine perceptive powers will at once admit. to be beyond all "cavil or question. I might quote _for you many passages from­ " Suetonius Tranquillus on this most momentous subject, but "one 1nay suffice. Writing of the domestic habits of the Em­ " peror Augustns, he tells us in ·the '78th chapter that that '' great sovereign used to lie down in his clothes after the mid­ " day meal, and, I suppose, snore like any other mortal. Hear "his words-' Post cibu1n meridianu1n, ita ut vestibus erat, '' 'conquiescebat, opposita ad oculos manu.' Gregory of Tours, "that most faith worthy historian, has placed on record a me­ ,, 1norable fact-namely, that Alaric, the Goth, surprised and "seized Rome at 1nid-day while the Romans were all asleep. "I do not wish to enter into the physiology of this subject, nor "to discuss whether it is conducive to health or otherwise ;

"doctors who differ in all their theories are divided on this ,_ '' matter-some for and some against. Alexander Petronius, a "great authority, maintains, Chapter 21, 'that a little sleep "after dinner 1nay be beneficial;' but others positively interdict "such a habitude, saying emphatically, 'Somnum f11ge meri­ " 'dianum.' With this; gentlemen of the ju . . . reverend "sirs, and sir, I conclude, fully satisfied in my own 1nind that "I :nn address!ng intelligences to whom my argu1nents are "living convictions." "vVhat have you to sayto all that, Father· "F---?" asked the pnirish priest. "Hardly anything," re­ plied the latter, '' except that Counsellor ---has established "the antiquity of laziness in a learned fashion. If the Romans

E lxii PREFACE.

'' in the time of Alaric had not been given to it, or if they had "even slept with one eye open, the Goth wouldn't have taken· '' their c:ty." '' And you, my dear young friend," demanded the pastor of his youthful curate, ~, what is your opinion?" "I ,., dare not gainsay," he replied, "the gentleman's arguments, '' but I am sorry he did'nt tell us more about the theories of '' the doctors. I hope they will one day make the medical art· '' a science, for it is at the present moment little better than "empyricism with nothing positive in it." "Sir," said the barrister, '' you are a man of letters, and I congratulate you on '' your appreciation of my argument." " Tea is ready in the study," said the housekeeper, as we were rising from the table. Tarrying behind with the big priest, he asked me what I thought of the lawyer. "I'll tell "you plainly," said I; "he has words at will, and conlcl silence a "hob of crickets. I'd bet my life he'll one day cajole some petty "borough, get into parlia1nent, and, perhaps, be made Attorney­ ,' General." '' Nothing more ·likely," replied Father F--, ,~ but the day, I trust, is not _far· off when the people will be "able to seL proper value on wind-bags.'' "And a more distended one than that," I added, "'twould be difficult to :find." Seating ourselves at the tea-table, we found the lawyer hold­ ing forth on a fresh the1ne and looking sole1nn as an owl. - His object seemed to be to prove that forensic renown was the chiefest good man could aspire to or achieve on earth. "Fame," said he, "is the greatest of all sublunary blessings, and by "fame I n1ean a high reputation for eloquence. I would die '' happy if I could attain the renown of a Burke, a Grattan, '' or a Sheil. What would posterity care for Cicero were it not ''for his marvellous oratorical powers ? When Sheil is dead· "and gone, will not future generations worship him for his "dazzling eloquence ~" . . . . . "But, surely," inter­ rupted the parish _priest, "you do not 1nean to assert that this "power, however cultivated and matured, should be regarded " as the greatest of earthly blessings. To my thinking, there's "no greater paradox." "Paradox!" replied the barrister with emphasis. "What would you not give for the renown PREFACE. lriii

," of a Bossuet or a Massillon, or what greater earthly blessing '' could you desire ?" "I think," said the pastor, " I could name you many far " more desirable than what seems to be your ideal or optimiim. "But instead of dPaling with this subject myself, I'd rather " leave it to my young curate. Come now," he continued, ad­ dressing the latter, "resolve us this question, and tell us " what you think is the greatest blessing a man can possess "here below.- No timidity, I pray you." "If," replied the young priest, '' I understand aright the meaning of the word "timidity, you will excuse me for acknowledging that I feel it '' just now. Is not that sentiment composed of a desire to '' please, and a fear that I may not succe@d ? I agree with you "that Mr. ----'s theory is paradoxical; but instead of ".examining it logically, I'd rather state what I conceive to be '' the greatest of earthly blessings. That it is not renown of any '' sort, is my firm conviction; and were one to question the most '' famous 1nen of this or any other age, they would tell us that " renown in its largest acceptation, far from being the greatest "blessing, does not constitute true happiness. This latter '' word may be defined the art of proportioning our desires to '' our means, and confining our tastes to possible pleasures. '' Nothing but the light of Christainity can enable us to effect "this, for ·although Christianity would seem to have no other "object than our happiness in the life to come, it nevertheless '' constitutes our happiness in the present. This is one of its "most striking characteristics. Investigating, therefore, what '' is the greatest of earthly blessings, I commence by opening "this holy volume at the thirtieth chapter of Ecclesiasticus, '' where I read 'there is no riches above the riches of the " health of the body,' and as it were to confirm this, the inspired " author contrasts the condition of the sound man. with that of '' the infirm, whose life of misery is worse than death itself. " 'Better,' says he, 'is death than a bitter life: and everlastirur " rest than continual sickness.' He gives us a singular illnstra­ " tion of this-' Good things that are hidden in a mouth that is '' shut, are as messes of meat set about a grave. What good shall lxiv~ PREFACE ..

"an .offering do to an idol, for it can neither eat nor s1nell '1' The "meaning of this is that viands of the most savoury sort are as use;. ~' less to the infirm as were the offerings of meat and wine which " the heathens presented-either to idols or to their dead, in the '' vain hope of comforting them. Thus he continues, 'so is he that ~' is persecuted by the Lord, bearing the reward of his iniquity.' :" The inspired teaching, therefore, would have us believe that :''there'snoneofthisworld's blessings equal to that of good health~ " What do we gather from profane writers 1 Plato in one his "Dialogues mentions a song which used to be sung at public ~' entertainments, the .burden of which ran thus : 'Foremost of all ~' is· good health, next to it personal beauty, and next to this is "wealth honestly acquired.' The same philosopher, in his sixth "book de Republica, affirms that the chiefest of earthly blessings '' are health, beauty, strength, and riches. Dionysius Cato, in his "moral poems, gives health the place of honourthus- " Sit tibi precipue, quod primum est, cura salntis." "Diogenes says that four things combine to make a man happy. " According to him prudence is the p.rst, the second health, the '' third prosperity, the fourth to be· honoured by men, and the '°'fifth to be wealthy. None of these lay great stress on renown of '' ·any sort; and I do not hesitate to say that it is a very transitory "attribution. Horace, who knew human nature well, states that '' if a man be sound in his limbs and other organs he wants '' nothing~ ~, Si ventri bene, si lateri est, pedibusq ; tlrls, nil Divitiae poterunt regales addere majus." ~,Need I remind you of what Cice:ro says in the second book ', de O.fficis where he tells us that good health is preferable to " pleasure-' bona valetudo voluptati anteponatur,' and here, I " think, I vanquish Mr.---,. with the words of his favourite. " Again, J uvenalin his tenth Satyre gives the first place to health ':' of body and mind- " Orandum est, ut sit mens sana in corpore sano." " But the translation is at hand and I will read the stanzas :­ '' 0 Thou, who know'st the wants of human kind, Vouchsafe me·health of body, health of mind; 'PREFACE.· lxv

A soul prepared to meet the frowns of fate, And look undaunted on a future state ; That reckons death a blessing, yet can bear Existence nobly, with its weight of ca.re; '11hat anger and desire alike restrains, And counts Alcides' toils, and cruel pains Superior far to banquets, wanton nights, And all the Assyrian monarch's soft delights l" '' I know," continued the young priest, '' that one of Martial's "finest Epigra1ns gives a foremost place to health; but as the "book is not within reach, I can only quote the two first lines." '' Which of the Epigrams is it 1" I asked. '' The 47th, tenth ''book," replied the priest. ''Then," I rejoined, '' you may spare " yourself the trouble of quoting the Latin, for I know the earl '' of Surrey's translation by heart. I learnt it in Clongowes "from Father F-." "Have the goodness to recite it," said the parish priest. "With a heart and a-half, reverend sir !- '' Martial, the things that do attain The happy life, be these, I find ; The riches left, not got with pain ; The fruitful ground, the quiet mind : The equal friend, no grudge, no strife ; No change of rule, nor governance ; Without disease, the healthful life; The household of continuance : The mean diet, no delicate fa.re ; True wisdom join'd with simpleness; The night discharged of all care, \Vhere wine and wit may not oppress : . The faithful wife without debate ; Such sleeps as may beguile the night Contented with thine own estate; Ne wish for death, ne fear his might." "And now," I continued, "to terminate this sharp encounter "of wits, in which I think his young reverence has won the "belt, he will pardon me if I supplement one of his omis­ " sions, and remind him that the Romans commenced all their '' epistolary correspondencewith the word 'sahitem' or 'gandere,' "which clearly shows that the greatest of all blessings one " could wish another was health of body and mind. But we "have outtalked the daylight; and if Mrs. Norton understood "Latin I'd say to her, in the words of Martial, 'Phosphore "fer liicem,' which may be loosely translated, 'Bring us luci- lxvi PREF.A.CE.

"fers and candles."' "You could not add," resumed the bar­ " rister, 'Our gaudia nostra moraris ?' for I never enjoyed a "pleasanter evening. But I must take my leave, as I have to "be in Wicklow to-morrow." "Well, then," said I, "before '' you go, allow me to impress on you that the condition of the "poor fellow who enjoys sound health and is able to dig for " his scanty meal is infinitely preferable to that of the renowned "dyspeptic who is obliged to go· to· Buckstone, Vichy, or some " such place annually which does not always turn out to be a " healing pool like that of Bethsaida. A. very different order " of angels stir the waters in those · places. I'm disposed to. '' think that Lisdoonvarna would answer you just as well if " you are troubled with- dyspepsy. . • " Dys-pep-sy !" 1nuttered the barrister, with a bewildered look, as if the ghost of old Norbury, in winding-sheet and wig, had ris~n before him- '' Do you know any remedy for that plague of my life '?'' " Indeed I do, and a good one. Never consult a quack, use "plain fare, eschew all drugged drinks, such as whiskey and '' miscalled wines ; exercise in the open air, by the beach, or in '' the fields ; keep your conscience right-I know it will put a "lawyer to the pin of his collar to do that ; cultivate literary '' tastes and congenial friends, and you will learn to bear most "of life's ills as you ought. I wish you good-night." Returning to the hall-door, I met the two curates, who were wait­ ing for their horses to be brought round. "Meet me to-morrow "morning at nine, "said the junior, "at the bridge of Clash, and we "will ride to Glenn1alure and spend the day there." "I'll be to '' the fore,'' I replied-" but, oh shade of Strongbow, here comes '' Father1F--'s huge steed.'' ''Strongbow!" re-echoed the big priest, setting foot in stirrup ; '' this is just the sort of brute that '' roving robber would have coveted. He never bestrode such "in all his days-over sixteen hands ; sire, Switcher; dam, '' Red Wing; rising six, and equal to seventeen stone with "hounds-ah! but for that exceptional clause about venatio "cl,amosa /-over the stiffest country in Ireland! Mount, "youngster,"he continued, addressing his colleague, as thelatte'r va.,ulted into the saddle-" let us Bhow our paces ; for I must see PREF.A.CE, lxvii

" a sick man at Ballinatone before I lay head on pillow. Good· "night." "Aye, and many a good-night to you both; maydarB '' care never ride behind either." At breakfast, next morning, I told the pastor that I was aboui to visit the glen, and would return to Dublin the day following; and set out for the continent as soon as I had arranged my affairs. "You will be delighted with the glen," said my dear friend ; " for it is one of the wildest and most picturesque in '' this or any other Irish county. I will not say another word '' of its grand· features, each of which still retains its old Celtic "name. It was the scene of famous events in the days of "Queen Eliz:1beth, when the O'Byrnes, with their chief, Fiach, "gave two of her vicer~ys more trouble than, perhaps, any "other tribe or chief in Ireland. All those who revolted "against English tyranny, and fled for shelter to that se­ " questered spot, had cordial greeting from Fiach, of whose '' history I 1nust confess I have only very faint knowledge. '' In '93, the ancient Brito.~s, as they were called, and the "banchmen, armed by the government of the period, com­ ,' mitted shocking @utrages there ; and the 'rebels' retaliated " by burning down the house of Baltiboy, whose charred ruins " you ought to see. I am grieved to think that you are about "to quit Ireland ; but you are young, and it is only natural "that you should wish to visit scenes with which your educa:.. "tion has made you familiar. Should it please God to spare " me till your return, I will be delighted to meet you again, " and still nwre so, if, from tiine to time, you will make this " house your h01ne. I will not say a word to you by way of "advice, for I have entire confidence in your steadiness and '' discrimination-your sense of religion and honour. '\iVithal, "it may not be superfluous to warn you against a contingency '' which even thoughtful men have not been able to avoid '' while travelling-be not persuaded to tarry among the :first "kind folk you- meet; for, if you do, you will find it hard to '' ten.r yourself away from them ; and, what is worse, you will '' feel as though you were broadcasting your affections behind '~ yo-a. You are going to live a1nicl the ruins of old empires, ~1x.•·... · I Vlll :PREFACE~

"whose very stones are pages of the world's history, but I' '' I trust in God you will never forget this dear land, that has '' such claims to your filial love. Who knows, but that when '' you have read more and gathered more experience-who "knows, I repeat, but that you will do something for the his~ · '' tory of this county, and of the tribe to which you belong? " The man who makes a blade of grass to grow where all before ~' was arid and barren, entitles himself to the lasting gratitude "of his kind ; but the man who restores a lost page of his '' country's history, or welds together some broken link in the '' chain of its vicissitudes, is a benefactor of a higher order. '' However little he may be appreciated by the unrefiecting in "his own time, generatim1s yet unborn will bless his name and "pray for him when he is in the tomb. Rest assured that the "continuity between us and posterity is not either ideal or "imaginary. Posterity will treat us just as we have treated '' our forefathers. In the Continental libraries, which, I am '' persuaded, have greater attractions for you than the frivolities "of foreign cities ever could have, you will be able to collect "many valuable passages relating to Ireland-its distinguished : 'writers, early missionaries, and men of the sword, whom the '' barbarous policy of our rulers, and the intolerance of a creed "whose unchristian ascendency was established by blood and "tears, robbed and compelled to dree a precarious existence '' among strangers. Think of this wlien you are far from me ; '' and bear in n1ind, that it often happens that great men, like '' stars, w~ver attract s~ much attention as when they have been '' eclipsed. One epoch of your life is well nigh passed-I '' 1nean that of the desires ; and the second will soon arrive, "with its disenchantments, and, I may add, disgusts. I speak '' thus to you now, because I may not have opportunity to do '' so hereafter ; and also because I can ill bear a separation from "_the son of my dearly remembered friend. It maybe a weak­ '' ness, but I have little happiness in contemplating a future "in which we twain must be parted. Hearts, however, united .'' as ours, may be torn, but never can be divided. My prayers '' and fondest wishes shall be constantly offered for you whither-- PREFACE. lxix

" soever you go, and I feel a sweet solace in thinking that I "shall not be forgotten in yours. Heaven bless and protect "you. There now, go-my horse waits you at the door, and '' you can spend the day and night with the young Roman. '' When you are ready to take your final depar~ure from here, "let it be done speedily, for I know no vocable in the language '' that falls on my ear so like the dull sound of clay on a coffin '' as the word farewell." "And yet, dearest friend," said I, standing up and concealing, as well as I could, my emotion­ ,, Socrates was wont to whisper it every night in the ears of his "friends, because he had no certainty of being able to do so on "the morrow." The pastor, covering his eyes with his left hand, stretched out the right as if to motion me from his pre­ sence. Seizing it in my own, I pressed it to my lips and mois­ tened it with a tear. A few moments afterwards, while riding briskly towards Clash, I could not help asking myself, what is a tear 1 and answered the question thus-merely a drop, or, as the homce­ pathists would say, an infinitesimal drop of water, with an . admixture of saline, welling up in the eyes. But, was mine such 1 Nothing of the sort. The tear I shed sprang, not from matter, but from tenderness and pity, which have their source in heaven. Imaginative lovers weep copiously during absence, and are half-ashamed of their tears when they meet. Under no possible circumstances could I be ashamed of mine ! '' Good . "morrow," said the young priest, as I cantered up to the bridge of Clash-'' I wish we had a good handbook to tell us the mean­ ,, ing of Irish naines of localities; for I have heard that they '' are most expressive, and, like the German, often reflect double '' images. I feel an ineffable delight in being able to associate '' with the scenes over which I pass any memorable fact they '' witnessed, but it pains me to hear the old topographical '' designations, and know nothing of their etymology.* Let us,

* ,Vhile these pages were going through the press, Mr. Joyce's admir­ able work on "The Irish Names of Places," appeared. Nothing can be better than this learned contribution to our literature. It should be in the hands of every one who loves Ireland, its history and scenery. PREFACE.

"however, push on for the glen; and traverse it before the sun "comes out in his strength. When we have done so, we can '' dine al fresco among the ferns, for my servant will meet us '' with dinner. Just now the glen does not afford a hostelry "in which we might take our ease. That's Tanner, the parish "priest's horse; you and he shall be my gLrnsts to-night. "' Love me, love my dog,' is an old saying, and I needn't tell '' you that my reverend superior's steed shall be well groomed '' and well stabled." "I can well appreciate," I replied, " your affection for the '' man and his horse, or anything that belongs to him. He is "amiable, self-denying, and, above all, a fast friend. But, "where's your Herculean colleague 1" "Off to Aughavanagh, "some five or six miles yonder, to attend poor old Garret '' Fleming, who is in extremis; were it not for that he'd be with '' us. He is a kindly soul, although not a diamond of the first "water." "And what if he be not 1" quoth I; "stones of that '' sort almost invariably communicate their hardness to those "who wear them. Then, again, isn't the diamond an-image of '' the egotist-brilliant, polished, but impenetrably hard? .A:. "good-hearted, simple-minded priest, like your colleague, has '' strong claims to our respect, for I am sure he's zealous and "devoted to his duties." "None more so," said my. com­ panion ; "but let us dismount, for here is Grenane church, "burnt down in the rebellion, and re-built by old Father '' !Cavanagh, whose tomb is yonder in the corner, hard by the "church door. He h~d it prepared for himself many years '' before he died." '' A curious whim, that," said I-'' let us "read the epitaph. 'Tis just what it ought to be-his name, "his birth-place, the date of his decease, and a request that '' the passer-by will pray for his soul. Even in his grave he is " a preacher of one of the Church's most consoling dogn1as." ." Shade of Father Kavanagh," I- continued, "I can hardly "forgive you for not having enriched your log with an account "of what you witnessed with your corporal eyes during '98. A "man of your ability could have done us this service. Never­ ,' theless, although your sleep is now profounder than any you PREFACE. 1xxi

"ever enjoyed under the roaring guns of Gibraltar, I here '' respond to the supplication on your :tomb-stone, and offer a '' prayer for your eternal repose." '' A1nen," said my com­ panion-'' c01ne, let us re1nount, and ride through the.beautiful "grounds of Ballinacor." "That little 'campo santo,"' thought I, "suggests a wholesome 1noral. Isn't the whole world full of "graves and tomb-stones, and if time didn't destroy them, "where would there be room for the plough 1 But what weird "old woman is this at Ballinacor gate 1" ''Avery aged crone," replied the curate; "but speak softly, for you ought to know "that there's less danger in vexing a dog than an old woman." '' Thank you, my good woman," continued the curate, slipping a piece of silver into her skeleton-like fingers, which rattled as they closed on the coin ; '' how many years have you 'been "here?" "Over seventy, your reverence." "Who lived here "in the olden tiine ?" '' Oh, a terrible woman, Rossha O'Toole, '' wife of an old, ancient Irish chieftain." '' Who was he 1" "Fiach O'Byrne, who was killed for being a traitor to the '' crown~ His wife had only to p11t on her reel cloak to rise the '' whole country. _She was a terrible woman !" '' A.re you of "Irish birth 1'' I asked. "No, sir, I ca1n here frae Scotland-.'' '' Allons," said I, '' that will do. The old withered hag speaks "as she was taught, and that business about traitorism to the "crown suggests robbery and n1assacre co1nmitted by base "scullions who came hither in the days of Elizabeth or James "the First. Rossha O'Toole ! 1nay she not have been blood of " my blood and bone of my bone ? By the shade of Fiach, "I'm half inclined to stay at home, and hunt up the manu­ '' scripts of Trinity College-if they'll allow a Papist to do so­ " for some account of this Rossha-which I take to 111ean Rose­ " and her husband, who must have been a gallant fellow in his " day. But no, this would show me 'infirm of purpose,' and '' I'll postpone that work till I return-if ever-to this beauti-. "ful, but ill-governed land." "What think you," said I to the priest, "if I would one day endeavour to re-people this "place with the men who owned it, who hunted in its woods, "and strove to hold it against the armed marauders who1n the lxxii PREFACE.

'' English crown commissioned to wrest it from them 1 Have " you any sympathy with those who tell us that we should "forget the Past, and lay to our hearts that weak maudlin '' sentimentality which say~, let bye-goni,s be bye-gones ?". "I !" replied my young friend, drawing bridle till his horse was thrown back on its haunches. "How could I sympathise '' with blockheads of that sort 1 Forget the past ! If we are to '' do that let us burn every page of history, sacred and profane, "for what is history lbut a record of facts that are worth re­ ~' membrance 1 Are we to forget the lives of saints, the deeds '~ of patriots, the heroes of Greece, Rome, or Ireland : above '' all, are we to ignore the centuries that lie behind the hills of '' time, when the tribes that once dwelt among these mountains '' protested with the sword against the rapacious spoilers who "burnt their homesteads, and, like savage Indian chiefs, "counted their victories by the heads they scalped? Heaven "forbid that I could be so insensible, or fling away the volume '' which tells all this country has suffered. Let shallow minds ''talk about better epochs, the dawn of future years of peace " and fruitfulness ; but, for my part, I cannot bring myself to "quench the light which our forefathers kept alive during the '' dark centuries of their bondage, and transmitted to us, as '' our grandest inheritance. I have heard mouthers and para­ ,' sites talk in that strain, but I'd think it foul scorn to enter­ ,, tain such ignoble sentiments. Stripped of everything that - '' once wa_s ours, where are we to find our country again but in '' the pages of its history 1 But here we are, in the very gorge "of the glen; yonder -is Fannaneran, and beyond it-that "frowning, cold, bleak m onntain-is Drumgoff. Look closely " at its scarred sides, and you will see the water-fall streaming '' down like a volume of 1noltcn silver; and yonder, in the "depth of the valley, is the sweet, silent river, journeying on "its peaceful course. Isn't it a romantic glen, grand ~nd stern i ·''Look, here at our left is a tremendous mass of stone, covered "with oaks and ferns : it is called Carrig-giurbna-does it not "seem to threaten us as we approach its shadow 1 But let us "ride to the glen-head and view it frnm Barnvore, where it '' 01 ens into the defile of Imale." PREF.A.CE. Ix:xui ..

Providence, thought I, as I listened to the young curate, has given me two ears and one tongue that I may hear much and say little. This youngster must, however, be taught the proper use of words, and I will read him a lesson. With all his ad• vantages of Roman education he needs it, and 'twere a pity to withhold it from him. At last, just as we reached the gentle ascent to the glen-head, I addressed him thus-'' My dear "friend, if our short acquaintance had not taught rr1e the con­ "trary, I'd suppose you had been in the habit of reading those '' trashy books which are the effusions of small poets, and which ''teem with false imagery and far.fetched metaphors. The "mind that is most imaginative is that which has taken in the . "greatest number of images ; but the proper application of "these must be determined by a clear perception of their re-• " semblance to the thing they are meant to illustrate. Imagina­ " tion paints, taste selects, and skill executes. The desire of. '' comparing what is not at all susceptible of comparison leads '' to ridiculous cunsequences. The vanity of starting metaphors "frequently prompts the institution of comparisons between '' things and thoughts that. are incompatible and incongruous. "Now, your comparison of that slender stream down yonder "mountain-side is inexpressive and faulty, because the image· '' is at once exaggerated, and never had existence in nature, "from which all the best and justest similes are derived. This "principle is of great iinportance to public speakers, and '' especially to a man of your profession, who so often needs '' illustrations which should be natural and unaffected to be "effective. There is also another point to which I would call "your attention. The supreme hour of mortal existence ia "frequently the preacher's theme, and one deeined so important "as to be often ingeniously introduced, when in strictness it "would be deemed obtrusive. The usual course isto crowd the '' sick bed with as many horrors as possible ; to collect round dis .. "solution as much loathsomeness and fear as the speaker can ''imagine; to exhibit before the listeners all pangs, and agonies, '' and anguish; nay, son1e equally void of taste and discriinination '' go so far as to paint death disgusting. Now, what is the use of '' all this 1 We must all die ; and t.his the congregation is quite lxxiv PREFACE.

"conscious 0£. It can little matter by what cause we die. I£ "gently, very well; if with distressing pangs, it may be so "much the better. Death is hideous only when the prospects '' of the soul are hideous. And such can only be the case "when we close our ears to the teaching of th@ Church, and "neglect its sacramental graces. This is one of the hinges on '' which the preacher should turn his discourse when speaking '' of death. Should he not also show how beautiful is Death '' that delivers the faithful-the practically faithful soul, from a "sad and temporary domicile, and sends it to a joyful and "eternal kingdom ·1 Oh, how often have I listened with delig;ht "to my old preceptor in Olongowes expatiating on all this! '' Let me likewise warn you against the use of hybrid words, "half Greek, half Latin, which, instead 0£ enlightening, confuse "and bewilder the hearer, leaving nothing in his brain but a "rumbling noise. Every word that does not express a precise "and definite meaning is nothing better than a vague, empty "sound. A few days before I left Olongowes, a book treating "of a very serious subject, but written in this hybrid style, '' was placed in n1y hands. I read it over and over without "being able to discover what the writer meant or intended to "mean; and the result of all my efforts was to bring on a fif, "of cerebral indigestion, which n1ade me have recourse tq "Father F---; who, on hearing my symptoms, said to me­ '' 'John, I am not surprised at your mental illness. There's · "some truth, however, in the teaching of the homcepathists­ "like things cure like, so here is Fra Gerond's volume for you, "read it and you'll recover.' Now touching this glen, which " doubtless is very picturesque ; an ordinary guide book would "have told me everything about its natural features. The nian "yonder cutting turf in the bog, the cow grazing on the sward, '' the grouse that finds covert among the heather, know as much "about all this as you or I do. But to me knowledge of this "sort is barren and uninteresting. I don't want to view the '' place with the eye of a 1niner or a grazier ; I desire to know "who dwelt here in the olden time, how long they held it, how '' their posterity lost it-in a word, whether it figure& in our PREF.A.CE. lxxv

'' bistory as the scene of exploits worth remembering or chro­ , nicling." "On such subjects," replied the young priest, "I cannot "throw any light. I remember, however, having read in a '' History of Ireland, by one O'Sullivan, that this very glen "was the scene of many curious adventures in the time of "Queen Elizabeth, and that an Irish chieftain who escape l " from Dublin Castle came hither under the ....,guidance of one 4 ' O'Hagan." "O'Hagan," said I, "is the name of a young barrister now "practising in Dublin, and bidding fair for highest professional '' distinction. Do you know anything 1nore of the history of "this liberating angel ~,, "Nothing more," replied the priest, '' but I hope that you will one day turn your attention to the "subject, and tell us all about him." "Rest assured that I will, should it please Heaven to spare '' me. But as we have traversed the entire glen let us visit "Baltiboy, where the pastor told me poor Billy Byrne of Bally­ " man us used to pass many a day." Retracing our steps, and ascending the road that leads to Glen-da-loch, we soon reached t~1e object of our curiosity. Even in its ruins there is quite enough to show that it was a comfortable ma,nsion in its time. The strongly. stanchioned windows, however, of its baseinent storey would lead one to conclude that the owner did not feel at home among the people by whom he was surrounded, and that he must have fancied himself unsafe in that lonely sequestered spot. And yet, thought I, a good kindly landlord might live among our generous people with doors wide open clay and night, if he deserved their esteem. Didn't the man who built this house act in so1ne sort like the early invaders, who secured themselves in strong stone castles against the people whom they plundered and n1assacred at their pleasure 1 An aged man seated on a broken mullion close to the hall door rose on our approach, and touched his hat, :first to the priest, and then to 1ne. '' Good "day, your reverence," said he ; "I ain glad to see you." " Thank you, Bryan, I am delighted to n1eet you, for here is a '~ young gentleman who is anxious to learn something about lxxvi PREFACE.

"this old burnt honse. I am going to read my Office, and while "I'm away you will give him all the information you can." '' I will and welcon1e, your reverence." "You are pretty well advanced in years; good friend," said I, "and doubtless saw this place before it was burnt." "Indeed "I did sir, for I was out with the 'boys' at the time. I saw "most of the doings of '98, and had my share of them." " Why," I asked, "did the boys burn this house?" "Simply "because the fellow that owned it was a cruel-hearted tyrant, "and shot some of them in cold blood. Sure you 111ight have "seen in the glen, as you came down on the right, the graves of "two of them. He made prisoners of them here, and then '' handed them over to the ancient Britons, who had a camp in " the glen. Without judge or jury they were first flogged, and "then shot to death. We never mow the grass that grows on "their graves." " Did you know Billy Byrne ?" "Ah, poor '-'Billy, I knew him right well. He was as fine a man as "you'd see in the wh~le country, over six feet high. Everyone "loved him." "Why did he frequent this place ?" " Oh, he "was courting a young lady of the family before the rising.''· "Is it possible that Crutchly countenanced this ?" " Well, sir, '~ I don't think he did, but I know that the young lady did, and "why wouldn't she when Billy was of the best blood in the "county; and as bold a horseman as ever crossed a country 1'' A. Romeo and Juliet affair this, thought I. Shakspea1.-e got his story of the unhappy loves and piteous death of his pair in Luigi da Porto's novel. I wish some one would dramatise Billy's courtship, and put it on the stage with the m:1tchless · scenery which the glen and this wild mountain-pass wonld supply. "Billy was executed in Wicklow," continued n1y informant, "after the government had signed his pardon, '' but the lady never married. The Orangemen wouldn't ·be "satisfied till they got his blood, and Lord Cornwallis was H afraid to refuse them. On the s,ame day they hanged Father "Grant's uncle, and flung his body into the sea at Wicklow. It "was drifted in, however, and the people b:nried it piously." "Lord rest their souls," said I. ".Amen," replied Bryan•. PREF.A.CE. lxxvii

"Did you know Michael Dwyer 1" "Indeed I did, and many "a time I sheltered him above in Carrig-gla-neen, when th<:1 '~ blood-thirsty yeas were on his trail. He was transported, and "died in Botany Bay. But I know an old n1an who has a '' whole history that was written about those times." "Who '' wrote it 1" '' One Peter MacCabe that kept the school in '' Glen-i-bla. He was out with the boys and took down all he "saw. He was a gr~at scholar, and could speak Latin, and " write ballads." "Do you remember any of his ballads 1" "Oh, begorra ·I'd be sorry to say I didn't. Sure every one "knows 'Billy Byrne,' and 'The Major,' and 'Baltiboy."' "What Major 1" "Major Sirr, of course; the ould vagabo·1d was '' down here some time ago in disguise, along with a bird-stuffer "from Dublin named Murphy, who told me what I am going "_to tell yon. The Major would go any distance for ould anti­ " quities, hawks, or any sort of strange birds." "The Major," quoth I, " was himself a bird of prey." "Aye, and a foul one ''too," replied Bryan. '' But as I was saying, after hunting '' eiver the glen for ould swords and pikes, or anything of that "sort, he and Murphy put up in Wiseman's public house for "the night, and.went to bed in thP. same room after they got '' their supper. Well, about four o'clock in the morning the two '' of them were_ knocked out of their sleep by loud rapping at "the door, and says the Major to Murphy, 'They have found out '' who I am, and are coming k1 kill me. Strike a light quickly "and hand me my Bible, for we should not he caught like '' the Foolish Virgins without oil in our lamps.' ' The "devil a light I'll light,' says Murphy ; 'hadn't I the height " of bad luck to be in your company at all 1' and with that '' he boulted out of a back window in his shirt, and hid ' himself in the wood among the ferns. It was pouring "rain at the time, and it wasn't till daylight in the 1norning '' that he came back, as wet as if he had been sleeping all 1 ' night in a spring well. Well, sir, when he returned, says '· he to the Major, 'Order me a pint of sperits, for I'm '' a3 cowld as Drumgoff.' With that the Major whips up " his Bible, and says he, 'Murphy, Murphy, Satan hath

F Ix.xviii PREF.A.CE.

'' desired to have you, that he might sift you as wheat.' 'I '' don't know what you mean,' says Murphy, 'it's the barley "I want; and as you won't order it I'll go about my business, and "leave you to yourself.' 'A.t all events,' says the Major; '' 'don't tell who I am.' ' In troth,' says Murphy, ' if every '' decent man, woman, and child in the glen knew who you are '' they wouldn't dirty their hands with such an unfortunate "ould humbug. You can talk about the sperit, but you'd '' grudge me a glass of whiskey. Good morning to you.' '' Murphy went back to Dublin, and was nigh dying of the "bronkithers, and the Major made off to Rathdrum, where he '' got the Briton, bad- to him, to attend hin1 huntin' for '' ourosities. Can anything be worse than a bad conscience ? "The men who started the Major out of his sleep were return~ "ing from a wake, and wanted whiskey, Isn't it surprising, '' sir, how some chcira.cthers can quote Scripture at every hand's '' turn 1" '' There's nothing surprising in it; for the devil '' hii:nself could do the same. But about the songs ---?'' "\Vhich of them, sir 1'' "Any, or alL Has Mr. MaeCabe '' embellished his pages with them, and do you think I could '' purchase the book P' "They are all in it, and I think the . "n1an who has the book would be glad to place it in the hands '' of such a gentleman as you, He's now . absent from home, '' but will be back in about a month. Couldn't you come down '' here about then and see him on the subject?" '' I will," I said, '' even at inconvenience, and purchase the book, cost ~' what it may, ~eanwhile, favour me with a snatch or two of "the songs." "Here;s the priest, sir, coming down the road; " and we won't have time to get through them all : the song "about the Major begins-··

H If you ever are travlin; ne11r hell, ;T ust stop an' look in at the corner­ lt's there you'll see ould Major Sirr, And Jemmy O'Brien th' informer. :But if ye have time to look on, You'll see somethin~ that's ten times more pfazin;_. It's there you'll see ould Major. Swan · In the gulf of perdition all blazin'." " Tl1e one about poor Billy-·heaven be his bed ! is too long, and PREF.A.CE. h:xix

"so is that about the man that owned this place, till the law '' courts broke him out of it ; but it is right good, and goes this "way- " The gates of hell flew open and the divil danced with joy, Sayin', you're welcome, Mr. Crutchley, all the way from Baltiboy." " But here's the priest." "I would, reverend father," said I, '' your Office had been as long as that of Holy Thurs­ " day, for you have interrupted Bryan's quotations fr01n the ·"lyrics of the bard of Glen-i-bla." '' Sicilian n1 use, begin a loftier strain," replied my friend ; "'tis after five o'clock, let us mount and ride back to Carrig­ " giurtna, where dinner waits us. Tell me what you thought " of poor Bryan's gossip !" '' I wouldn't designate it gossip, for what is that but worth­ " less tattle ?" " He may err in grammar, it is true, .and his '' tone may not be the fashionable or affected one-but "still he talks well, and with originality. Your imita­ " tive man is but a poor creature, and bears the sa1ne "relation to genius and originality that an ape does to a "rational being. Mimicry is a low power, the specia­ " lity of buffoons ; and it seldom happens that the man who '' lowers himself to that level wins permanep.t esteem. Horace, "alluding to the death of one of those, tells us that all the quacks, " sharpers, and vagrants of Ron1e bewailed him, but he does "not say that a single decent man grieved for his removal. He "was type of a tribe that still exists, and is encouraged by '' people ()f their own standard, who reward their grimacing and "mimicry with dinners. Is there any object in life more piti­ " able than the clown 1 Well, what are those of whom I speak '' but clowns without the paint and the grotesque dress ? Do "not imagine that I am insensible to wit, or that elegant '' sprightliness which is calculated to exhilarate ; on the con­ " trary, I appreciate it as much as any man; but I have an " utter contempt for small wits who are perpetually straining "after scintillating conceits. ''Tis only -solid bodies polish '' well,' says a profound thinker ; but your sma.11 wit and sayer '' of smart things, is as the paste diamond compared to the lxxx PREFACE.

" real hard stone. Were I anxious to hear a tale pathetically "told, or some humorous incident well described, I'd ask no "better narrator than an intelligent Irish peasant. Now, '' Bryan has been relating some interesting events, which '' amused and enlightened me ; and the snatches of the old "songs he recited, although not so polished, are in my mind '' not inferior to some I have read in Dante. Did not the latter '' thrust down into endless torment those whom he regarded '' as traitors, murderers, and the like ; and had not Peter '' MacCabe as good a right to do the same with those whom he " considered guilty of similar crimes 1 Public conviction has "its Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise. Who will deliver Castle­ " reagh or Jemmy O'Brien out of the former 1 Has not popu­ :' lar sentiment a place of expiation £or the erring but repentant " patriot ; and has it not an elysium for those who loved their '' country and served it well 1 May I not place my old pre­ '' ceptor and the pastor of this parish there 1" '' You," said my companion, '' are more charitable than "Dante, for he consigns his preceptor, Latini, to ' the In­ '' ferno.' '' "No doubt," I replied, "because he was of the opposite '' faction-the Guelf. But does not this show you the power of " the pen, and how it can eternize infamy 1 Latini deserted '' the popular party of his time, and was, I think, accused of '' peculation. How could Dante place such a man in Paradise 1 "Yonder, on the hills, are herds minding sheep; what would "you think of th.eir owners if they entrusted them with that " employment when they knew that they milked their ewes '-' twice an hour- " Of grass and fodder defrauding the dams, And of their mother's dugs the starving lambs ~,, '' That they had little sense, or at all events, that they" desired '' to compromise. . . . . " '' Say no more," said I, '' for "that word adumbrates cowardice and capitulation with dis­ " honesty. But I think I have shown you that the humblest "ballad-maker- wields a mighty power for good or for evil. '' Here wear.eat this huge threatening rock, with its primitive PREFACE. lxxxi

'' name, ar1d Turlough has the viands spread out for dinner." '' Here, Tt rry, my man, take the horses, and, be£ ore any of '' us tastes a morsel, see them fed." It was a very plain, but sufficient, repast. Some pieces of cold meat, bread, and limpid water from the rock. Ever and anon came across my mind my old friend Horace's detestation of luxurious and costly meals ; nor could I help recalling what I often heard Father F--- say in Clongowes-'' think not "so much of on what you'll dine as with whon1 you'll dine." . " Come," said the priest, "here's Terry looking for his bit, ,, and while he is at it we will climb to the top of Carrig­ " giurtna." "I'd do anything in my power to oblige you. But have you "considered that this climbing will cost us both a certain "amount of vitality, perhaps without any compensation ?" .' " Oh," replied the priest, " the view from the sumn1it will re­ " compense us amply." "Be it so,'' said I; ·" lead on ; I'll ''follow." It was a difficult and toilsome ascent, for the hot sun had made the sides of that old bleached boulder as slippery as ice ; but after some time we reached its su~mit, panting and exhausted. " "\Vhat a prospect !" remarked the priest, as soon as he re­ covered breath1 "Rather," said I, "what valuable reflections " does not this height suggest-does it not awaken recollections ''of men who have been made dizzy by social eminence, and "intoxicated by the world's vanities 1 Have you ever reflected "that pleasures are like those flowers which produce vertigo "when their perfume has been too long inhaled 1 Have you '' any ambition 1" '' If," replied my friend, '' you niean by '' that an immoderate· desire of honours, power, or riches, I "don't think I have ; but if I may qualify the word, I will '' admit that I am desirous to serve my kind with whatever "ability I possess." " That," I remarked, "is a wise qualifi­ " cation, and beseems you well. I approve the sentiment-for '' no matter how circumscribed the sphere of your action, you "have the means of doing great and lasting good by word and "example. You might not, however, have told me that you lxxxii PREF.ACE,

'' have no desire to amass wealth. I know far too well, to sus­ '' pect for a second that you had even a germ of that vice in "your heart. Heaven grant that no tare of that sort may ''ever strike root there! Amass wealth! Treasures of that '' sort are not worth half the pains bestowed on acquiring them. '' They are the fruit of toil ; they fill their possessor with unrest ; '' and they are abandoned with regret. · The man who is most "given to amassing is he who does not enjoy what he has. "But there is ambition of another sort, to which all are prone, " and against which you should be for ever on your guard-I '' mean that of high place and worldly honours. They resemble '' the peak of this rock, which cannot be reached but by reptiles '' and eagles. Never crawl, for this would be lowering yourself '' to the action of a worm ; never seek to soar, for you might '' break your bones like Icarus ; but walk ever in the right "road without pride and without meanness. High places are "seldom f)laces of repose. Ideal happiness, it is said, dwelleth '' on a mountain top. Here we are on one, and what do we '' find but the blank expanse ? Need I add, that no matter how "high a man may climb, he never can be out of range of the. '' arrows of fate. Let remembrances of those who, pursuing '' this igni!; fatuus, devoted one half of their lives to 1nake the '' other miserable, influence you at all times ; and never forget "Wolsey, who, after treading all the paths of this world's "glory, never discovered that he had been befooling him­ '' self till he came a wretched, disappointed, and broken­ ,' down man, to die in a cloister. Desire not to pass out of "honest mediocrity, and you shall never fall into misery. Be "not envious or jealous of the success of others : success is not "always the award of true desert; and all the grand passions '' are above jealousy, which is nothing but a homage that in­ '' feriority renders to merit. Now let us get down, but before '' we do so, let me impress on you that if what I have said does "not descend from your head into your heart, it will profit you "little." " I thank you," said the young priest, " for that lesson. I '' will not only remeinber, but practise it all my life. Moses PREFACE. lxxxiii

" smote the rock in the wilderness, and water gushed out to '' cool the thirsty Israelites. I will never pass Carrig-giurtna "without remembering the lessons of refreshing wisdom it in­ '' spired. But look-the long shadow is stretching down the " slopes of Drumgoff, the sun has set, and the blue smoke is " curling upwards from the chimneys of the farmsteads." " I "see it," I replied, "but why don't you attempt something 1 "original 1 You have now been translating Virgil uncon­ '' sciously- '' Et jam summa procul villarum culmina fumant, Majuresque cadunt altis de montibus umbrre." " Hold on there by that oak sapling, and listen to me for an '' instant. In all your conversations take care to travel out of '' the hackneyed ruts of thought and expression. Be original, or '' be silent. I admit that originality is not excellence, but it is "nevertheless akin to it. I do not· mean factitious originality, "which is a trick of vanity, but that which keeps clear of the "trivial every-day style. Neither would I imply that you " should take your inspirations or modes of speech from re­ " views, like some who are not able to think or speak for them­ " selves, but that yon should scorn to be a borrower of image '' or phrase, and thus make yourself beholden to the lender. "There now, get down, and don't forget that piece of good "advice." It was late that evening when I reached the curate's little domicile, hard by Grenane. On alighting, Terry took the horses, and his master directed him to look first to Tanner. '' Rub hin1 down well, and see that he is well fed and bedded," said he, "for I'd rather do without supper or couch than see "my reverend superior's steed want suitable comforts." "Par­ " don n1e," I interrnpted; "did you read in Suetonius' Life '' of Caligula that that crazed emperor made a marble stable '' and an ivory nJanger for his horse Incitatus, a name that has "been well translated Go-a-head ?" " Yes," he replied, " I '' ren1ember that; and also that Caligula intended to make the "brute a senator." " In our tinrn," quoth I, "golden asses '' get into parliament ; but oh for a cup of coffee, and I hope lxxxiv PREFACE.

"your housekeeper has it ready." "It waits us up one flight "of stairs, but mind your head, for the ceiling is low." " A "neat apartment this," said I, surveying what was my friend's study, drawing, and dining-room ; "you're not overcrowded " with furniture." '' I have," he replied, '' all that I require­ ,' a table large enough for three, and a bed for a friend." '' You "reckon your guests by the number of the Graces." "My '' 1neans won't allow me to exceed it." " Well, when you are "a parish priest, you'll have larger space and more furniture." "John," said he, " I fear I will never attain either the piety '' or the learning that would suit me for that office ; but, as to ''the furniture-don't you think that I could expend my little '' income better by helping the poor and furnishing my head 1 " Better lay in a stock of good principles than rich carpets or ': luxurious loungers. You would not have me be like the fool '' who decorates the outside of his head, and cares nothing for "the inside 1 I re1nember what Fenelon says-' Every orna­ " ment that is absolutely such, and nothing n1ore, is an excess.' "Here now is a portfolio of engravings I brought from Rome­ " as soon as you have sipped your coffee, examine them and go '' to bed." '' One word, dear friend, before I undo these claspa. "If I 1nistake not, I think I heard you say that you regretted '' your poor means would not allow you to entertain more than "the number of the Graces. .Are you dissatisfied with your "poverty 1" "I said something like it," replied the curate, '' but not exactly that I was dissatisfied as far as I myself am '' personally concerned. Were my income larger I could occa­ " sionally relieve a want and dry a tear. I might also add an '' additional book to 1ny little collection ; and under any cir­ " cumstances it shall always be a small one-for I have heard ' lihat your maker of large collections seldom reads beyond th8 '' :·itle. Now, may I ask had you enough to eat to-day 1'' "Indeed I had." " \Veil, then, I could afford you as much ' every day in the week. Ergo, I have no reason to be dis­ , .,atis:fied with my larder. Wine or ardent spirits of any sort I '' don't drink ; argal, no need of a cellar or ruinous account ''with a spirit merchant-I may add, no apprehension of a PREFACE. lxx.x.v

" cell in a mad-house. A small wage secures the services of my " old housekeeper, and Terry, who looks after my horse. The "parishioners supply the latter with oats and hay, and all I "have to regret is, that house-rent deducts a very considerable "surn frorn my slender salary. Were it not for that, I'd regard '' myself as exceedingly well off. The worrying dread of being "unable to pay rny rent, and the petty economy that apprehen­ " sion necessitates, do disquiet me." "Wouldn't furnished lodgings in somebody's house suit you 1 'better ?" '' Even though such could be had, I'd rather deprive "myself of every penny I receive, to rent a cottage which I could "call my own. A priest never can enjoy that privacy which "his state of life requires under a layman's roof. As for living '' in a parish priest's house, it, too, may have its inconveniences. '' Differences of tastes prevail among men of every class ; and " I need hardly tell you that you will not every day meet such "a loveable man as our good friend Father D ---. But now '' open the portfolio." "Ah, how beautiful!" said I, "as I looked upon the ex­ " quisitely fine features of Raffael. Can anything be truer '.,' than the old saw which affirms that the countenance reflects " the mind 1 and wasn't this face transferred to canvas from "the mirror 1 Raffael didn't know how to fix the image there. '' What light in those glorious eyes, what harmony in all the ''features ! Many a man and wo1nan too sit for their likenesses "in our times, simply because they know nothing of phy­ " siognomy. • • • and here is Raffael's contemporary and "rival, Michelangelo, bearded, stern, and strongly marked as "his Mose,, come down from the thunC!ler and lightning of Sinai. "Who can look on these two and not recall Pope Julius the "Second, and Leo the Tenth? By the way, tell me what do you '' think of the temporal power of the popes 1" "I never," replied the priest, "g;1,ve myself much trouble "about it, for i have always thought that the Fathers of the "Church, the councils, and the pontiffs themselves were the "most trustworthy authorities on the subject; none of them "find fault with it, and why should I maintain opinions adverse lxxx.vi PREFACE.

'' to theirs 1 Then again, the loudest declaimers against the "temporal power are infidels, scoffers, and craven-hearted " Catholics, who are ready to follow those leaders of the blind. "I have no sympathy with them or their teaching. No form "of human government is all that it ought or may be. Look at "our own over-bepraised constitution, and see what a buses it "tolerates, nay, upholds. There may be, for aught I know to '' the contrary, many things faulty in the temporal government '' of the popes, which, I am sure, the present one or some of his "successors will be glad to reform. As it is, however, I do "believe that it has more care for the wants of the people "subject to it than any other govern1nent in the world. You "never hearof migrations from the Pontifical States to America, "because the people are either starved or robbed by feudal "landlords; and I need hardly tell you that the pope is the "only sovereign in the universe who lifts his voice against "tyrants, and in behalf of _the oppressed. Where in the history '' of monarchs will you find any comparable to the two you '' have just mentioned as restorers of learning, and encouragers "of art 1" "Stop there," said I, "and answer me this ques­ '' tion. Wouldn't the conte1nporary lay-sovereigns of Julius " and Leo the Tenth have paid Angelo or Raffaei just as liberally " as those popes did 1" '' That is quite possible," answered the priest, '' but there's "one thing they never could have done. They could not have "inspired them. Under what other patronage would Angelo, "have thought of producing the Last Judgment, or Raffael his "Transfiguration, or his other glorious works in the Vatican 1 "Who but a pope could have originated the idea of erecting "above the tomb of the Prince of the Apostles, a basilica that '' for vastness, and, as Byrons ays, harmony of proportions, to '' say nothing of richness of material and artistic splendour, . " should be worthy of Rome and the whole world 1 This very "idea was equivalent to an inspiration, even though Julius or " Leo had developed it merely for their own glorification. That "conception, says a distinguished writer, was the Church in the "realisation of its religious ideal, which~ with the tremendous PREF.A.CE. lxxxvii

"majesty of its recollections, and a clear foresight of its future, "consecrated to its services not only the hands, but the heart " and soul 0£ such men as Raffael and Buonarroti. Could such '' a thought e1er enter the brain of a Henry VIII. or a Haps­ " bourg 1" " I suppose," said I, "this is a veritable likeness " of the great painter ?" " A.s faithful," replied the curate, " as "the reflections of a looking-glass could make it." "Well " then it is a pity that Death hadn't lost his eye-sight, or been "obliged to wear specs, for he might have mistaken the copy '' £or the orig1nal, and spared poor Ra:ffael even to our times. "But what is this 1 The Resurrection of Lazarus after Luca " Cangiasi. What solemn joy in the features ! one would think '' he felt the blood warming in his veins ; 'tis an awful picture, "and reminds us that this man had two nativities, on'3 at his '' birth, a second in his return from the tomb ; might I not add a '' third, from Cangiasi's palette 1 But here is a Madonna with "flowers ; who painted her ?" " I don't know," replied the '' priest, '' but it is a charming picture." '' You don't know '' the author. May he not have got his inspiration in these '' sweetly sounding verses ?- '' N ecte rosas, generosa, Plecte fl.ores, Virgo Rosa, Rosaru.m pu.lcherrima. "* " I often heard my old preceptor in Clongowes holding forth on "the beauty of flowers and their suggestiveness ; and I think "I am listening to him this moment quoting that beautiful "passage of St. J erom :-'ostendam tib variam 'Y.>ulchritudinen, '' flor·um, qiiid in se lilia habeant piir-itati.~, quid rosa verecundiae '' possideat, quid violae purpiira promittat in regno. 't Who'd think "that the hermit in his horrid cave at Bethlehe1n would have "cared so £or the field flower, which to-day is, and to-morrow "is cast into the oven ? Here's Raffael's ' Ecce Homo.' 'Tis '' familiar to me, and poor Father F--- used to address it *" Link the roses, 0 thou grand one, Twine the flowers, Virgin Rose, Fairest of the roses thou !" t I'll sbow thee the varied beauty of flowers, the lily emblem of purity, the rose of modesty, the purple of the violet. ixxxviii PREFACE.

'' this wise, ' 0 King of Heaven ! is this the image of thy "celestial sou ? Are these the cheeks so dear to the angels-the "beautiful cheeks, that gave the rose its crimson, the lily its '' snowy whiteness 1 Are these the serene bright eyes? Is this " the brow whence the sun got its rays-its flame ? Is this the "hair from which the stars derived. their gold? this hair, ah, "woe is me, now dishevilled and blood-stained! What cruel "hand hath wrought this impious deed ? What pious hand "hath transferred. to living canvas these blessed features, these

"holy limbs? Be this thy1mirror, 0 erring soul. Here ponder '' well, that God re-created man. Ah, how impious man, who "stripped his loving God. of man's form and semblance •... But "dear young friend, it is time we retire to rest. To-morrow '' we shall part, but, I trust, to meet again. Should Heaven "spare us both we'll have many a day together when I return. ''human friendships, I grant you, are not always lasting, and "Providence is the best friend of all. The true friend, how­ " ever, is the wise one, and the test of friendship is what "Sallust says, 'idem ·velle,' and 'idem nolle.' That sentiment '' shall inform our future lives-what thou likest I'll like, and "what thou dislikest I'll abhor. Here Terry, fetch a light, '' that I may find my way to my knees, and then to bed. "The man who lies down without invoking his Creator, is like ''one who'd stretch himself among powder barrels with a lighted '' candle in his hand." How did I sleep that night 7 At first not soundly, for visions of Fiach O'Byrne, Rossha O'Toole, poor Billy, and the old Major with his Bible, to say nothing of Peter MacCabe's Inferno, were passing athwart my memory like objects seen in a magic lantern. The two first, however, seemed to hang persis­ tently about my pillow with mute entreating looks. "I under­ " stand you both," said I, '' and if you are n0t deaf as well as "dumb, hear what I say. I'll do my best to write your history '' when I come back from my travels." Hearing this, they made signs of joy, and faded away like a mist from the height of Derrybawn when the sun shines out. Turning on my left side, there stood the Maj or with his Bible. some strands of PREFACE. lxxxix thick cord, a cat-o'-nine tails, and a placard, on which I saw the words Established Church, in his hands. '' There's only one way," said I, '' to get rid of this hideous old goblin." I raised myself on my pillow, dipped my fingers in the holy-water stoup, commenced to make the sign of the cross, but before I could bring my right hand from my chest to my left shoulder the Major had vanished. Whither you are gone, thought I to myself, is no business of n1ine to inquire ; but I am pretty sure that you are now in a region where you'll hardly meet any of your victims of '98. The doctors, who have a happy knack of turning everything but their fees into Latin, would call this a night-mare, and tell you gravely that the word is derived from '' noctiirnus moeror." Well, be that as it may, I experienced no 'inoeror or grief at all, but quite the contrary. I must confess, however, that I fancied the atmosphere of the chamber was laden with a strong sulphurous smell. This, said I, is a souvenir of the Major; a pinch of snuff will neutralise it. I opened my box, took a considerable quantity of Lamb­ kin's best, stretched myself at full length, and slept soundly.. What I here narrate is just as true as Musgrave's History of the Rebellion, or Sir William Temple's account of the ghosts at Portadown Bridge. " Your boots and warm water, sir," said Terry, '' tapping at "my door next morning at six o'clock." "All right, Terry; "where's the priest?" "In the garden, sir, saying his Office ; he "has a long ride before him to ~'.[oycredin, where he has to give "Mass for poor Fisty Farrell, Lord rest him, that's dead." '' A "strange name that,'' I remarked, pulling on my boots ; '' surely "that wasn't his Christian name?" "No, sir, but he lost one of "his hands in a saw1nill, and he was always called Fisty after "that." "How far to Moycredin 1" " About seven 1niles, sir ; '' 'tis a terrible journey for the priest in winter, but he thinks "nothing of it in the su1nmer. Rienzi's at the door waiting "for him." '' Who 1" said I. '' Rienzi, sir-his horse ; that's the "name he gives him." "Very well, Terry, I'll be down the "moment I get from behind my beard." Pray heaven, I murmured inwardly, the curate may never have his neck broken XC PREFACE, like the unfortunate Tribune ! Popular idols exact bitter sacrifices, and are soon forsaken for some newer object of worship. The ambitious seldom think of the inconstancy of fortune. Proceeding to the garden, I found my host booted and spurred. '' Good morning," said I ; '' you have a long distance "to go fasting." " It can't be helped," he replied ; " and after "all, what is my fasting-journey to that of the good people " down in Glenmalure, who, whenever they receive the Holy "Com1nunion, have to perform a journey of nigh eight miles "coming and returning 1 I must take leave of you now, and "pray God we may meet again. Breakfast waits you, and "Tanner will be ready for you whenever you like to depart. "Call on my worthy colleague on your way to Rathdrum, an~ "give my most affectionate remembrance to our pastor. Adieu! "I must be off." I clasped his hand warmly, and a few mo­ ments after heard the last echoes of Rienzi's hoofs. "When do you wish to have Tanner, sir 1" asked Terry. "As soon as I have breakfasted. That's a kind creature-I "mean the curate. "No better, sir ; but he's killing himself "over books, and goes out seldom, except now and again with " Shadow, when he wants to kill . a hare on the mountain." "Shadow, I suppose, is a good hound 1" "As swift as lightnin', "sir." "And what is better, Terry, his very name is suggestive­ '' for a wise man has said, 'that the death of the body is only "the shadow of death.' I am happy to find that his reverence '' hunts something else than shadows." Placing some money in the poor fellow's hand, and telling him to divide it with the housekeeper, I ascertained the nearest road to Father F---'s residence, mounted, and set out for Ballynockin. '' You're heartily welcome," said the big priest, as I rode into his little lawn. "You must spend the day with me, and I'll "send off instantly for the parish priest and my colleague to "join us." "That can't be," said I, "for I must leave for "Dublin this very day.. I have come to.bid you farewell ; for ." many years must elapse before we may meet again-if ever.'~ . PREFACE, XCl

"At all events," said his reverence, "you must come to see "King Bryan, as you got only an imperfect look at him "last Sunday night." Entering the stable, I couldn't but admire the noble brute. '' Isn't he a rattler?" asked Father F--- "He carried me to half-a-dozen sick calls yester­ '' day, and never turned a hair." '' You ride," I remarked, "over sixteen stone." "Tack on another," said the priest, good-humouredly, "and you'll _have it. Bryan thinks nothing " of it." " Oh," I replied, "why should he-don't some very "weak creatur.es carry a heavier weight than that-the burden '' of their own evil passions 1" '' Thank you for the hint, I'll "turn it to good account. But whither are you going?" "To "France, Italy, and Spain; in short, over the whole continent. '' I'll tarry there many years, and finally settle down at home. '' As I had the honour of coming into the world long after you, "it is only reasonable to expect--positis ponendis, as we used '' to say in the logic class-that you- will take precedence of me "in going out of it ; but meanwhile, if I can do anything to "show my deep respect for your big, honest heart, command "me without reserve." '' 'Tis true," he replied, '' that you "are many years my junior ; but it's not so certain that I may '' not survive you, especially as you are going to countries '' where you'll never see bullocks and sheep like those we have ''here. Then again, you ought to reflect that the Rubric re­ '' quires the laity to precede the clergy. Well, for all that, "what matters it how or when we go, provided we reach '' Heaven-where, I hope, we may one day meet. I regret we " are to part so soon, but what must be must be. Drop me a '' line now and again ; and if you stumble on any one coming '' this way out of Ron1e, send me a Rosary blessed by the Holy ''Father." '' The best and handsomest that was ever made in "Loretto wouldn't be too good for you. I'll do your bidding, '' and trust to your remembrance for a prayer." "May God b~ with you," he replied, pressing my hands till I felt as if they had been braced in a vice. Riding out of the lawn, I fancied that a mysterious voice whispered in my ear­ you shall never again see that huge strong man on this earth. xcii PREFACE.

Who, thought I, is the strongest man 1 But my old preceptor . had long since resolved this question for me-he is strongest who is most virtuous. Gently, gently, Tanner-why stride so up this long hill? We are going home to your master ; you'll cock your ears and whinny when you hear his voice and feel his hand patting your mane. Don't toss the white foam on your broad chest; I wouldn't have him see a single fleck on your shining chesnut coat. Stupid, head-strong mules, and such like, require hard bit and burdoon, but you are none of that sort-like your master, you are kind, quiet, and easily kept in hand. Tanner, I have somewhere read of a holy man whose horse refused to carry any but himself ; and to be candid with you, I wonder you don't shake me off your back-unworthy as I am; but I suppose you know that the parish priest is my dearest friend­ dimidiu,m an,imce mece, as Horace says. Job's horse is a magni­ ficent creature, the like of which cannot be found in the Iliad. But then he is a war-horse-an armed cavalier's charger, with • thunder-clothed neck, and wide flaming nostril, snuffing the battle from afar. BL1t, Tanner, such is not your character; you carry a n1an of peace, not to "foughten field," but to the distant mountain church, to the poor cabin where the fever rages, or where the sorrowful of heart pine th. Even there, Tanner, their poverty notwithstanding, you are sure of a morsel of hay and a willing hand to smooth your flanks, because you are the parish priest's favourite. I believe that the amiability of a master, or the reyerse, is reflected not only by his domestics, but by the brute-beasts of his household. Well now, be patient, we will soon be in the lawn, and I must make short work of this most painful leave-taking. Father D---'s heart is weak, however strong his mind, and I love him too well to over-press his sensibility. '' Here, Denny ;" said I, alighting and throwing him the rein, · " take charge of Tanner-he's neither heated nor ''hard-ridden." " The master, sir," replied the servant, '' wouldn't lend him to any other gentleman in the whole '' county-may the Lord prolong his life !" Mounting the stairs before saluting my host, I packed my PREFACE. XClll portmanteau, and bestowed a trifle on Mrs. Norton. '' Go ''now," said I, '' and with least possible delay have a chaise "and a good pair sent down to the hall door; give that sove­ " reign to poor Denny, and tell hin1 to bring down my luggage. '' The old Romans, Mrs. Norton, used to call it impedimenta, '' but mine deserves not to be so styled ; a man never goes "down to posterity with a pile of trunks. Where's the parish "priest?" "In the study, sir, and sad enough. I'll see your '' orders executed, but first let me thank you and beseech "heaven to bless you wherever you go." " Mrs. Norton," I replied, "take care of the parish priest, for if we lose him, "where would we get his like 1" "Not outside heaven, sir," said the housekeeper, raising her apron to her eyes. Entering the study, I· found his reverence seated be£ ore a book and resting h_is head on his left hand. "Good morning, " dear father," said I, " I hope you are well." " I a1n well,

'' thank God, my dear young friend," he replied, reaching out 1 his right hand, but still keeping his eyes on the open page. "I hope you amused yourself in the glen, and that you left '' n1y young curate well and happy." '' The glen," I rep1ied, '' is all, if not more than you described it ; and as for the "young priest, and the big one, both are just what you would "wish, they desired me to bear you their affectionate re- " gards." "Well, John, now go into the dining-room, where . "you will find that the housekeeper has provided a slight re­ " fection for you. 'Tis a long journey to Dublin. As soon '' as the chaise comes return to me. Remember what I told '' you about our parting-that it should be. " '' I re­ " member all," said I, "and will do your bidding." " One '' word, John, before you leave the room-let me hear from "you frequently. You may in1agine what pleasure your letters "will afford me. We will thus strive to annihilate distance. "Go, leave me, and return when you are ready to depart." I had hardly finished my 1neal, when the chaise, dashing rapidly up to the hall-door, caused the pebbles to rattle against the dining-ro01n window. Now, said I to myself, you have need of all your r,hilosophy. Stoicism was at one period the

G . XClV PREFACE.

highest conception of the human intellect. But I don't belong to their sect, and I ren1ember that He who was holiest of all 1nen that ever trod this earth, wept when He found himself deprived of the sensible presence of his friend. . . . Entering the stm:y, I cast myself at the pastor's feet, and in doing so, disturbed Mungo, who, with a few raps of his tail against the white-boarded floor, seemed to recognise me. ''Father," said I, "give me your blessing, and let us at once "terminate the ke@n agony of this sad, sad parting." Rising from his chair, he drew himself up to his full height, turned towards the crucifix on the mantel-piece, and, after pausing a moment, as if to catch inspiration from the holy object, lifted his eyes heavenwards, and then stretching out both hands over me, said, in accents that never shall die out of my ears-" Oh, "thou who didst enable the Israelites to walk dry-shod across "the Red Sea's bed-oh, thou whose star lit the Wise Men on ''their way to Bethlehem-protect, I implore thee, this thy "servant and my friend. . . . . May thy blessed angels "guard and guide him whithersoever he goeth here below, and "finally conduct him to the haven of eternal rest !" Seizing a fold of his soutane, I pressed it to my lips, and then, springing to my feet, made 1ny way as well as I could-for my eyes were full of tears-out of the study. '' Farewell, Denny," said I, stepping into the chaise: "tell the driver to pull up at 1\1:r. "0---'s cottage.'' This, however, was unnecessary, for I · had not gone a hundred paces down the road when I met the gentleman and· his young wife taking their n1orning walk. '' I '' am sorry," said he, '' you are leaving us so soon ; but if you

'' ever co1ne back, I trust you will tui?n up here and have a day 1 '' or two with the hounds." '' Thank you, dear sir," I replied, "but I am too deeply impressed by the importance of that con- '' ditional particle if to make any promise." '' You will be "truly welcome whenever you come," added the kind lady ; '' and I hope we are not going to lose the young Roman along "with yourself. It is rumoured that the archbishop means to "take him to Dublin ; we'd all regret him and feel his loss. " Use your influence, and persuade him to stay in our charminJ j PREFACE. XCV

'' scenery, out of the heavy atmosphere of a crowded city." "Madam," said I, "I thank you for your kind invitation ; and "permit 1ne to say that I appreciate your estimate of the young '' Roman. There may be some truth in the rumour to which '' you allude, but you may rest assured that his recollection of '' your generosity shall never be more lasting than mine. Re­ " member, however, that run1ours of retrograde movements "may be read two ways, like the famous line- '· Roma tibi subito motibus ibit amor," " which Mr. C--- will translate for you. Farewell ! I'll '' always think of you both with sincerest regard." Quick driving took me to Wicklow a couple of hours afterwards; but during the entire journey I had constantly before my mind's eye the picture of a venerable man, with outstretched arms, invoking blessings on my head. " Father," said I, as I crossed the Wicklow Pastor's sitting­ room door, "I have corne out of my way to bid you farewell." "You may do so to-morrow," he replied, "but you must spend '' the day here. You can amuse yourself, as you are fond of "antiquities, there below among the ruins, while I am reading " my Office." "Father," said I, "I cannot have that pleasure '' now. Some other tinie-and I hope we may meet again-I "will enjoy that congenial delight. Are you not," I asked, "about to build a church 1" " Yes," said he, " if we can raise "the funds." " Permit me then to hand you this cheque for "such a pious undertaking. I love the Wicklow people's con­ " stancy to their faith, and I'd like to mark my sympathy with '' their pr0genitors who suffered so terribly at the hands of the '' blood-boultered Sir Charles Coote." '' May God reward you!" said the old patriarch, '' and may the recording angel give you '' credit for this sum at the last great winding-up ! So long "as the stones of our projected church hold together, so long "shall you have share of the sacrifice offered on its altar." '' Deucalion, father, turned stones into men; but the stones of "the Christian temple. " " Oh," replied the blunt old man-'' don't bother me with your Pagan quotations, but " as you are going out on a world of dangers, bear in mind xcvi PREFACE.

"what St. Peter says-' Be you also as living stones, built up­ '' a spiritual house.' Will you alter your mind and stay the "night with me~" "Impossible, father." "Then move off as '' soon as you can-for I must go about the county, hat in hand, "to beg for my new church. Once more, God bless you !" Descending the very precipitous steps from the hall-door to the shady enclosure of the venerable priest's residence, I said to myself :-He may not be a very polished classical scholar, but he's honest, earnest, and unaffected. Nothing is more con­ temptible, and nothing so destroys individuality as affectation ; for my part, I'll always strive to be what God and Nature made me. To borrow the thoughts and ape the accent of others, is somewhat like strutting about in lent clothes; and yet there's not a fool of this sort in the world that won't get another fool to admire him ! In the course of a month I arranged all my affairs, and was ready to set out on my travels. There was only one let to my departure, and that was the business about Peter MacCabe's manuscript. I therefore despatched a trusty messenger to Bryan Farrell, to say that I'd meet him at Baltiboy on acer­ tain day, but that he ,should keep the whole matter a profound secret from everybody. If the priests, thought I, were to know of my coming, I'd have to go over the whole leave-taking again, and I detest the monotony of repetitions. At last I met Bryan, and he introduced me to the owner of the volume, who, he told me, was sole surviving brother of Peter deceased. "Cmne in, sir," said the latter, "out of the rain, "and we will talk over the matter.'' "Pray," said I, "show "1ne the book, for L must be back in Dublin to-night." Taking it out of a drawer, he placed it in my hands. I ran my eye over the pages rapidly. A glance or two showed me that it was written with great care, and abounded in incident of a very interesting character. "'Ti~," I remarked, "a valuable volume, " and I'll purchase it if you are disposed to sell it." " ,v ell, "sir," replied the owner, "I'd be sorry to see it printed in my '' life-time, and I hope to live a good n1any years yet." "And '' why so 1" "Because there are things in it th:at would briri.~ .. PREFACE. xcvn

" down the vengeance of some fellows on the poor people." That's a wise hint, thought I. " Would you trust my honour?" '' Indeed I would, sir, for I am sure you wouldn't hurt a fly, " or provoke any of the old wasps." "Your brother wrote " this book ?" " He did, sir, every word of it-songs and all ; "he was out with the 'boys,' and when the quiet came he sat "down and put it together." "Was he a classical scholar and '' teacher ?'' ''Yes, sir ; we both went to the same school that " was kept near Te1nplederry, by one Murtogh O'Shaughnessy, "the best scholar in Munster in his time. I keep school myself "in the winter, when the gossoons and little girls can't be out " in the fields. The book is somewhat stained, for I was often "obliged to keep it up the chimney lest some of the old yeos "might lay hands on it." "No matter," said I, "about the " stains-' ubi plura nitent non ego paucis n1aculis offen­ " dar."' "Ah, sir, wasn't Horace a darling?" "Well, now, " touching this book-here are my terms. I'll give you ten '' gold sovereigns ready down for it, and I bind myself in "honour, solemnly, to not print or let it out of my hands till '' my own me1noirs are ready for publication. These shall be, '' nay, must be posthumous-since great reputations are always '' posthumous-and shall not see the light till some thirty years '' after my retirement from this world. Now, as I am pretty "young, and have to travel some five years before I reach what "Dante terms the half-way house of life, you have no reason "to apprehend any of the consequences to which you allude. '' A.re you satisfied ?" '' More than satisfied, sir, for you are '' giving more than I expected. Here's the volume, and I may '' say to it what Ovid said to his- '' Sine me ibis in 1nrbem." "Aye," I replied, "the quotation is apposite, for this book '' shall see Ro1ne and many -other cities. Here's the money, "and if you are alive when I come back, I'll be happy '' to do you · service-if in my power." Had I lit upon the lost Decades of Livy, I could not have . been more delighted. Cardinal Maj, I said to myself, is a great scholar ; he has discovered Cicero's de Repiiblica, and xcviii PREF.ACE. had he done nothing else for literature-which the Oh1.irch has always encouraged-that discovery would entitle him to the purple. Long may he wear his honours ! But all the palimpsests of the Ambrosian are nothing compared to this lucubration by Peter MacCabe, late Tacitus of the ''boys," and philomath in Glen-i-bla. Lord rest him! Six weeks afterwards I settled down in the Quartier Latin at Paris. I preferred that region of the city to any other, because it afforded me facilities for visiting public libraries, and conversing with professors and students. Time passed plea­ santly enough while I was thus occupied, and I never lost sight of Seneca's maxim, that one can study at any period of his life, but that there is a period when he must cease to be a student. Mine indeed was the study of man, not in nature or in society, but in books which are best calcu­ lated to solve the problem, life. The science of governing is acquired by the study of men and books, but the latter will always be an indispensable aliment of the soul. The public institutions of Paris, its grand libraries-those magazines of thought-magnificent churches, and galleries of painting and sculpture, afforded me means of delightful recreation. Nor could I help admiring the liberality with which the roya] gardens of the Tuileries, the Luxembourg, and the Garden of Plants were thrown open to every class of the people. Such, thought I, is not the case in Dublin, where the masses are grudged a mouthful of fresh air, and the shade of a few trees in Stephen's green. By-and-bye, however, the people will be wiser, and will see that they are not, and shall not be regarded as a proscribed caste. To heighten all these genial enjoyments I held frequent correspondence with some friends at home, ancl especially with Father D---, whose letters, teeming with sage admonitions, and evidences of undiminished concern for my welfare, helped to double our existence. There was, however, an interval of a fortnight, towards the clm;e of September, during which I had none fro1n him ; nor was it till the middle of the following 111onth that I was able to account for this ominous silence. ·At last a letter from Father F--- came to hand, informing me PREFACE. XCIX that our mutual friend the parish priest had died after receiving the sacraments which the Church dispenses at the supreme n1oment. " He died of fever," wrote the curate, " which he '' took frmn a poor man whom he was attending ; the latter, '' thank God, is recovering, for he has a family dependent on him. '' The young curate has been removed to Dablin. I'll take care '' of poor Mungo." Dearl ! said I, so soon, and so unex­ pect d'y ! Dead! can I believe my eyes, or have I misread this short letter 1 Let 1ne peruse it again. Alas, I have not mis­ taken its import. He is dead, n1y best and dearest friend. He has gone to his final account, and, instead of questioning the truth of this sad intelligence, I should be on n1y knees beseeching God to give him eternal repose. Rising from before the crucifix that stood on the mantel-piece, I paced my little roon1 like one striving to regain strength and consciousness after having been stunned by a sudden vigorous stroke. Dead! dead! I repeated to n1yself again and again. But how 1 Of fever taken in the poor 1nan's cabin. Ought I grieve or rejoice 1 Let n1e ponder this well. He died to save one of his flock, and lost his life that the poor 1nan's children might not lose bread and a roof to shelter them. Does not the good shepherd lay down his life for his sheep, and will not the supreine shepherd take him to his fold, where there's no wolf to raven or to dis­ perse ? Did he not die a soldier of the cross, and will not the recording angel return him among tho 3e killed. on the field in aJtion against death and sin 1 "'\Vhere else or how else could he have fallen more nobly or more pleasingly in the sight of I-leaven and its angels 1 Isn't life a march and a battle, and hasn't God pron1ised to reward those who perish in his cause 1 The vce victis relates not to them, and, although vanquished in the flesh, I am full of hope that his soul has won the incorrup­ tible crown. Herein I have reason to rejoice and none to grieve. Ah, now let me recall what I often heard him say, for it will console me to repeat his words, " We die daily, hourly, and at '' every moment, for as the body groweth life decreaseth. In­ " fancy, boyhood, and youth are gone-nay, and even a part of '' this day has already been divided with death. Like the sands C PREFACE.

"in the hour-glass, it is not the last grain that empties the vessel, "since all those that preceded it have helped to do .the sa1ne. " vVhat is all this waste and wear of matter but a prolixity of '' death ? In health and strength we fancy that we are not '' dying ; but this is a delusion. We die from the cradle to the "grave, and although we may be unconscious of it, we are '' nevertheless going thither at every moment. Those, says St. "Ambrose, who sleep aboard-ship do not feel themselves nearing "the haven; but they are approaching it nevertheless. Time, '' with its winds and waves, is ever wafting them on, on, to '' the termination of the earthly voyage." How well I re­ member this illustration which he so frequently used. Thank God that his transit' was rapid. Better for him to have died thus, a martyr to his zeal, than to live and languish through years of aches and pains, seeking a few months' respite at some foreign well, and knowing, despite all the doctors might say, that the silver cord mu,st be broken, the gol~en fillet shrink, the pitcher be crushed at the fountain, and the wheel be broken at the cistern. But now I have a duty to discharge. The Mass must be sung for his soul's health, for, priest as he was, he may require the fruits of the atoning sacrifice. A few hours after this heart-rending intelligence reached.me, I proceeded to the residence of a J e3uit father with whom I was acquainted, and placed in his hands a sum of money, part of which I requested him to distribute as a dole to the poor. "The remainder," I said, "by right is yours, for it is proper that they who serve the altar should partake with the altar, and that they who preach the gospel should live by the gospel." '' Father," said I, '' the priest is the angel of prayer on earth, "and his supplications will ascend like fragrant incense to the " throne of the Eternal." '' Your bidding," replied the kind Jesuit, " shall be done, but 1neanwhile you must not give way "to excessive grief. 'Twould be wrong to do so, for you might '' fall into that state of brooding 1nelancholy that would prevent " you ;Praying as you ought for one you loved so well." "And " whom I will continue to love," said I, interrupting the Father, "as lonp- as I am on this earth. I have no fear of falling into . PREFACE. Cl

'' melancholy, which, if I mistake not, is often caused by re­ " pressed passions, but I'd fain have you tell to what extent "I may legitimately indulge the grief that has so suddenly "come upon me. I do not apprehend consequences that have '' overtaken others circumstanced as I am ju:st now. I know '' how sudden shocks have turned young men grey-nay, and '' how unexpected joys have killed. Aristotle, dear father, '' was not proof against bitter disappointment, for you know '' that he pin~d to death because he could not satisfy himself "about the ebb and flow of the tide." • . . . . "Here," he replied, taking down a volume from his shelf and handing it to me, '' bring this home with you, and transcribe the few paragraphs I will mark." " Father," said I, " my memory is "not like a sieve or the buckets of the fabulous Danaides ; I'll ': fix every word you mark in n1y recollection." " No,"' eaid he, "do as I tell you, and do it at once. Go, and to-morrow morning Mass shall be offered for the soul of your friend." Hurrying homewards, I thought every moment an hour till I could see the pages which he intended should act as an ano­ dyne for my sickness of soul. Opening the volun1e, I found that it was a collection of St. Jerome's Letters, and that the paragraphs marked by the Father related to grief for the dead. After running my eye through them, I translated them as well as I could, thus :- " Weak minds cannot sustain heavy afflictions ; they sink in " the attempt. N epotian, thy friend, my friend, nay, Christ's '' friend, and because Christ's, therefore the more ours, has "left ageJ men overwhelmed by rgrief Jor his departure. He "who we thought would survive is now a corse. The mind is "troubled, the hand tre1nbles, the eye grows dim, and the '' tongue stammers; while I strive to give expression to my '' sorrow, and strew his grave with the flowers of this epitaph. " Of old it was usual that the children should pronounce the '' funeral oration of their deceased parents in the thorough­ " fares of the city, and excite the compassion of the spectators "by elegiac verses, set to wailing music. But all this is changed, '' and Nature no longer exults over our human calamities ! .. cu PREF.A.CE.

"the homage which youth should offer to old age, this we, old '' men~ now offer to youth. What, then, shall I do ? Shall I '' add my tears to thine 1 But the Apostle forbids, for he says '' that the dead Christian only sleeps. Shall I not be glad and "rejoice because he 'Was taken away lest wickednes;, shoiild alter '' his unde1·standing; because he. pleased God and was beloved? ·' BL1t despite all my efforts, tears course down my cheeks, and "even with the hope of the resurrection .present to my mind, '' I am bowed down by his departure from among us. 0 Death, '' that separatest brothers ! 0 hard ancl cruel Death, that breakest '' all the bonds of love ! thou, incleed, devoured Jona ; but "but even in thy bosom he was living. Thou didst carry him '' off as dead that the world's te1npest might be stilled, an::l "that our Ninive might be saved by his preaching. He, He "conquered thee : He strangled thee; He, the fugitive Prophet, '' who left his Father's mansion, and delive1·ed his soul 11,nto "death; He, who through Osee's lips threatened thee thuE­ " 'O death, I will b@ thy death, 0 hell I will be thy bite.' By '' His death thou art dead : by his death we live. Thou didst "devour, but art now devoured. Thy insatiable maw, 0 grave, "would fain swallow up His assumed body, bnt He rent thee " asunder by His power. \Ve give thee thanks, 0 Christ, our ''Liberator, for having slain, while Thou thyself wert slain, this "all but omnipotent adversary ! Oh, how pitiable heretofore the "condition of man, who, prostrated by the terror of everlasting "death, fancied'that life was only given him that he might lose it! "The gates of Paradise are now unbarred by the blood of Christ, "the cherubim who guarded there with flaming swords have been " withdrawn; nor need we wonder that we are destined to enter '' there, since it is written that all who are in the flesh, yet live "not according to the flesh, shall obtain the freedo1n of the "kingdom of !leaven. I-las not He said, 'Lo, the kingdom of '' God is within you 7' " Long and deeply did I ponder the significance of St. J eronie's words through the weary watches .of that night, till at last sleep overpowered me, and I drean1t I saw n1y kind friend, with outstretched arms and uplifted eyes., blessing me. ... PREF.A.CE, Clll

l\femory, like the eye, has its retina, and what was this com­ forting dream but an impression of a scene which I have already attempted to describe 1 Next morning I assisted at the mournful solemnity, and prayed with the priest that God, who had raised n1y lamented friend to the dignity of the priesthood, would deign to associate him for ever with His apostles in Heaven. But was I to cease regretting his departure? Cer­ tainly not. Christ wept at the tomb of His friend in Bethany to show that He was not above human sympathies. But ought my sorrow be· excessive or moderated 1 The latter aoubtless, for 111oderation is true courage, and in order to attain it we have only to look at things as they are. M0deration, says Pythagoras, is a virtue that E)ngenders no reprehensible grief. On 1ny return home I read Father F---'s letter over again, and while binding it with a thread of black silk I could not help thinking of the young curate and Mungo. The former, said I to n1yself, will henceforth be n1y correspondent, and as for the latter he will pine and break his heart, no matter how well he may be cared. A dog's affection for his lost master is, alas, more sincere and lasting than that of those who succeed to his place and honours. I never read of an heir to a great estate dying of grief for the individual who bequeathed it. Having established my head-quarters for several years in the French capital, I made frequent excursions to every town in Belgiu1n, and especially to Louvain, whose churches and schools hold the bones and monu1nents of Irish ecclesiastics and soldiers, whose reputation is something better than a favouring ga"!.e after shipwreck. My object in visiting these places wa~ to collect every scrap of writing that could throw additional light on the history of my country during those sad times when her bravest and best had to fly for their lives been.use they would not adopt an alien creed, or bow their necks to a cruel and tyrannous yoke.· He who has witnessedarevolutionmaybe said to have lived · two lives, and it was my fortune to see more than one. I was in Paris when the Dead Emperor, after slee~>ing twe:1ty years under the willows of St. Helena, entered his capital in triumph to rest beneath the dome of the In valides with his 1narshals. . ·-PREF.A.CE • ClV

1v.Iinglingwith the myriads throng that witnessed that most n: e·nor­ rable event, I could not but recall the cruelty of England, or rather of its all but worn-out oligarchs, to the greatest of geniuses tl.is world has ever seen. How those vultures gnawed the chained Titan on his rock under the burning sun of Africa 1 How well has Sir Charles Napier stigmatised their inf a.1nous conduct­ " The stain inflicted on England by the miirderers of Napoleon "can never be washed away. Of all the base cowardly actions '' committed by a nation, or rather the rulers of a nation, the '' sending of Napoleon to St. Helena is the most disgusting and '' the most impolitic." The conqueror of Scinde pronounced that invective, but had he turned his attention to the wicked laws which empower land"holders in Ireland to drive their serfs to America or elsewhere, he would have found as much reason to de­ nounce them, and to urge the settlement of a question on which the perpetuity of British government in Ireland, nay, and its in­ fluence in distant colonies, may one day depend. Does England win the friendship or respect of the noble peasantry whom she suffers to be treated thus ? This Dead Emperor, thought I, may turn out the base Bourbon who got the throne by aiding the revolt against one of his own blood ; and I was right in this conjecture, for I saw Louis Philippe ex­ pelled to make way for another Napoleon. Oh, shade of Wellington if you take any interest in the affairs of this world how must you feel now, when the nephew of the Man whom your chance victory dethroned wields the Imperial sceptre 1 I was in Pisa in 1846, when Pius IX. ascended the chair of St. Peter, nor shall I ever forget the joy with which that event was hailed. I, too, shared the universal jubilee ; but a letter from the young curate gave me cause to mourn. . It brought me news of three deaths-my old and revered preceptor, the old patriarch of Wicklow, and the big priest, had been sun1- moned to their last account, and, I trust, to an everlasting re­ ward for lives of surpassing usefulness. I wish, said I to myself, I had gone to Rome and sent the pro1nised Rosary blessed by the Pope to my friend before he died. Holy Mary, intercede for him, albeit he cannot tell bead or chant thy PREFACE. CV

praises in his grave. .Ah ! thinking of h·im, from whom I re­ ceived so many valuable lessons, my heart was bitterly afllicted, and it was not till then I realised that maxim which says that the loss of a cherished object causes pain far more intense than the pleasure we enjoyed from its possession. Locality, however, exercises wonderful influence over the mind; and of all places that I have seen there is none so cal­ culated to take the sting out of death, or reconcile us to the inevitable necessity, as Pisa. The walls of its '' Campo Santo" have been decorated by the pencils of Gozzoli, Buffalmacco, and other great artists, who have n1aterialised there Our Lord's Parables-these evangelic poems-the mysteries of the faith, and Heaven's correspondence· with man through its ambassa­ dors. The unbroken stillness that pervades that place of se­ pulture, the cool shades of the cypress, and the soft light which enters through the windows of the cloisters make one feel as if he were pacing a dormito~y were countless generations had lain down to sleep. Then r gq,in, the graceful epitaphs in Latin and Italian, so simply beautiful, so entirely devoid of that inflated exaggeration for which our monumental inscrip­ tions are ren1arkable, arrest ihe eye at every step and give us admirable epitomes of the lives of those whom they commemo­ rate. Each of these tells a joyful tale. Here rests a babe who, after being baptised, went to join the angels in heaven-here a ~edical doctor who, in consideration of his large sympathies for suffering humanity, beseeches a prayer for his soul-here a priest, a soldier, a student, a heart-broken widow who could find no rest till transported to the bosom of God. .All join in the same supplication, and in language· so touching that none but the insensible or unbelieving could refuse it. Often and often have I heard 1ny old preceptor say that the Italians have made this art of epitaph-writing peculiarly their own, and I now realise the truth of his words. Heaven send tl1e day when our cemeteries' boards will have men of letirning and tu.,ste to copy them in this speciality ! v... isiting R01ne, not only for the sake of its religious and pro­ fane monuments, but also that I might collect from the nianu- cvi PREI!'ACE,

scripts preserved in the Irish Convent of St. Isidore's, facts re­ lating to my country's history, I witnessed all that occurred during the tritunvirate, as it was called, of the greatest rascals whom God, for His own wise ends, ever suffered to afflict man­ ·kind. I won't sully these pages with their names, for they deserve nothing but execration ; all that I now say of then1 here is, that they filled the holy city with the scum of Europe, and n1aintained their short-lived rule by terrorism and organised bands of assassins. While the Holy Father was in Gaeta, the French kept thundering at the gate of San Pancrazio, and might have delivered Rome at any moment from the presence of these brigands, if they had not been afraid to discharge a single gun in the direction of -those gates that stand near St. Peter's. Cooped up within the precincts of the city, I amused myself sometimes with books relating to its unparalleled history, antl !jometimes listening to the rhapsodies of an English enthusiast who had come to lend a hand to the armed ruffians who boasted that the Papacy was irrecoverably overthrown. " Ah," said I, after hearing the " asserter of liberty" holding forth at im- 1neasurable prolixity on thi_s theme, "many another besides '' yourself has said the san1e, and proved themselves false prophets. '' Let n10 tell you s01nething about them, first premising that •.' history is ever repeating itself, and that the miscreants of the '' present generation 1nay find their equals in the by-gone cen­ . ' turies." In 1303, Sciarra Colonna, instigated by two of his kinsmen, who were cardinals, and Philip the Fair of France, sacked the l)alace of Pope Boniface VIII., in Anagni; nay, and struck .. he aged pontiff in the facP. with his steel glove. Dante, Ghibel­ line as he was, has left us a touching picture of this fact, which horrified all Christendo1n at that period- " I see the flower-de-luce Anagni enter, And Christ in his own Vicar captive made. I see him yet another time derided ; I see renewed the vinegar and gall, And between living thieves I see him slain."* Well, the parties who had to do with this outrage flattered * Longfellow's Transl. .,======~======:ii PREFACE. ·cvu

themselves that they had broken the power-the temporal, for the promises of Christ settle the question of the spiritual-of .Boniface and his successors for ever, and that thenceforth two or three patrician families of Rome and its neighbourhood could do as they liked. Well, Boniface dies in the Vatican, piously and collectedly, not as some have lyingly stated, a lunatic ; and his successor, Benedict XI., ascends the vacant chair to exercise all the powers devolved on him by his predecessor. His successor, Clement V., who was a creature of Philip the Fair, removed to Avignon, and the Papal See 9ontinued there for a period of seventy years, during which the Romans, ns Petrarch and others tell us, were constantly petitioning the pontiffs to return to the true Capital of Christendom, and ter­ n1inate what they ter1n~d the Babylonian captivity. In fact, without the pope's presence, Rome could not have existed. But let us go back to a period anterior to Boniface's, and we will find another instance of this impotent ruffianism. On Christmas night, 1075, Gregory VII., while celebrating Mass in the church of Santa Maria Maggiore, was set upon by armed assassins, wh~ dragged him bleeding fron1 the altar, and then cast him half dead into one of the Roman prisons. The men engaged in this atrocity were stimulated by Henry IV. of Gern1any, who, doubtless, flattered hin1sel£ that he had made an end of that power which enabled the pontiff to denounce his villanies. Need I say that Henry lived to see the utter failure of all his schemes ? Coming down to tilnes nearer our own, may I not remind you of the Constable Bourbon, who be­ leaguered this city, and showered his balls on its temples and palaces ? Well, what was the fate of that miscreant ? He was shot while escalading the wall yonder, near the Porta del Popolo, and if we can believe Benvenuto Cellini, it was he pointed the gun. 'Tis, perhaps, worth remembering that the Bourbon is interred in Gaeta, where Pius IX. has sought refuge fron1 the storm which will soon blow over. Need I recall the treatment which Pius VI. received from the French Republic, ond how the great emperor dealt with his successor, Pius VII. 'I But how did the latter act towards the family of his greatest I J.:::::=:======::::::::=====~I ... CVlll PREFACE.

persecutor? He threw open the gates of Rome to every mem her of it, housed and protected his aged mother, brothers, and nephews, even him who is now President of the Republic and has sent his lieutenant, Oudinot, to bring back the pontiff. Had Pius VII. been empowered to decide the fate of the fallen emperor, instead of sending him to be done to death a coups d'epingles, by a turnkey like Sir Hudson Lowe at St. Helena, he would have sheltered and consoled him here as he d: d man:y members of his family~ The foolish boast of rebuilding the Capitol from the ruins of the Vatican, is all moonshine ; and I am convinced that the rabble who have raised this cry, would be very glad to see every picture and statue of the former place sold by auction, provided they got share of the spoil for their own sordid indulgence. Every one engaged in this ne­ farious warfare against the papal temporal power, is nothing better than a plagiarist of Attila, and, like him, will find that God and St. Peter will defeat and scatter them. To you the pope n1ay now appear the personification of weakness, but I hold with the poet Monti, that, as Prince and Pastor, he is still the Lion of Juda-strong, not in earthly, but supernatural vigour, and that he will sooner or later see the swords and lance~ of his enemies broken in their hands. I don't know what weight, if any, my arguments had with this enthusiast. Fana­ ticism blinds the intellect and hardens the heart ; but it is likely enough he may have given me credit for a little perspi­ cacity when he saw the Triumvirate (may the execr~tion of every honest heart pursue them !) and their bands of assassins running for their lives as the Franch entered through the gate of San Panprazio. Long and pleasant was my sojurn in Rome and other Italian capitals after the return of Pio Nono ; nor was I ever forgetful of the advice given me by my old preceptor and the parish priest of Rathdrum. What I saw, however, and what I did, shall be detailed in my personal n1emc.irs, and has nothing to do with these pages. The former shall one day see the light along with Peter MacCabe's story of Ninety-eight, annotated by Miles Byrne, Colonel Markey, and other Irishmen, who rose to dis- PREFACE. CIX

tinction in the French service, where n1en don't win epaulettes in drawing-rooms, boudoirs, and money brokers' offices. Now, said I to n1yself one day, as I stood looking at the hand­ some little house just outside the Porta del Popolo, of which Father F--- had spoken to me in Bodenstown church-yard, it is time for me to go home. I have seen everything that is worth seeing, and my portfolio is cran11necl with valuable transcripts from the documents in St. Isidore's and other rare collections. Hasn't an Italian poet said, "See Naples, and then die." Welli I have seen that city, but I have no fancy to die if I can help it. I have yet to create and experience other e1notions, if I have not already experienced my last. I may strike out that 1 "if," for indeed I have realised all the truth or that venerable 1naxim, "qitmn pcirva sapientici guberna,tiir 1munclus ! which 1nay be Englished thus-There's a trem Jndous an1ount of humbug in the affairs of this world. I have seen so much of it, that, like 1ny old friend Horace, nothing that occurs can astonish me. The more man knows man, the less susceptive is he of that im­ pression. There's only one thing in Nature that has the per­ manent power of reproducing it, and tha,t is Death. Well, as I was saying, my heart began to long for home, and I resolved to bid adieu to the Eternal City, and all foreign lands. vVhy should I not yearn for the place of my affections, its green fields and warm heart::; 'l vVhy should I not feel like the poet, who has so well said that he could not give a narne to that sweet sensation which stirs every heart while thinking of the plac~ where it :first palpitated- " Nescio qua nata.le solum clulcedine cunctos, Ducit, et immemores non sinit esse sui ?" Well, over twenty years' exile, however unconstrained, is quite enough, and here goes for the Ci vita Vecchia railroad, Marseilles, Paris, and London. How strange did the English sound in my ears when I set foot in the latter place,. and how ardently di(l ·I wish to exchange it for the brogue of that beautiful harbour, where the stunted obelisk marks the landing-place of a king1) whose heart was as hard as itself. After arranging affairs with 1ny agent, I started for Clongowes:

H ex · PREFACE. and knelt on the grave of my old and well-re1nembered precep­ tor. A few days afterwards I proceeded to Kilbride, in the county Wicklow, where the mortal remains of the parish priest of Rathdrum await the resurrection: Oh, how fervently I prayed for him, and besought God that if his soul had not yet passed the "painful porch," He would be pleased to take it speedily to Himself. Passing thence, I made my way to Rathdrum ; but as I turned down the road that leads to the presbytery, I could not repress the joy I felt at seeing a beauti­ ful church and convent schools in progress of erection, on the 1 eminence from which I got my first view of the Vale of Clara, the Avonmore, and the mills. Hastening on to the little church of Clara, where the big priest reposes, I offered God my suppli­ cations for his honest, simple soul. Retracing my steps, I stood in front of the presbytery, and asked myself, shall I knock at the door and see the little study, the dining-room, and that in which I slept so 1nany years ago 7 I will, I answered ad­ vancing a few paces-but my heart failed me, nay, whispered 1ne, you shall not see him, the fiddle in the niche, or Mungo. Your very footfall on that floor will rl.11 you with melancholy ; turn away instantly. I did so, but as I retired I could not help giving a side glance at the windows to see if his mild, kind face was not there. John, I continued; indulge not these fancies ; imagination will befool thee, if not restrained within proper limits. But what of Mr. C---'s cottage 1 I know that he too has passed away; but shall I pass it by and not enter 7 No said I, this shall not be, for I must see his widow and children. Taking courage, I entered the lawn, but the cottage was almost screened from view by trees, that were not there when I first visited it, and a beautiful residence, fresh from the hands of the b11ilder, stood right before me. Ah, sweet Heaven, I muttered to myself, what changes within an interval so brief-how trees grow up while we grow down! After knocking at the door of the new mansion, I directed the servant to announce my name to her mistress, who did not allow me to wait long in her hand­ some reception room. Bearded and sun-burnt as I was, she recognised me at once, and I was delighted to find that although . :PREFACE. CXJ

grief and years had left some traces on her benevolent features, she was nevertheless strong and in good health. After introduc­ ing me to various me1nbers of her an1iable family, she with her wonted goodness pressed me to stay for dinner, but I thankfully declined, for I was not disposed to be made more melancholy by missing one who I knew would have welcomed me had he been among the living. Naturally enough, our conversation turned on time past and present, my travels and adventures, and the many events which transpired in my absence. My eye sought out the old piano and the portfolio of Piranesi's engrav­ ings, but I could see neither. Indeed, every object in the room seemed new to me, and the only thing that retained its old character was the kindly tone of the lady's voice. " Who'' I ask~d, "fills poor Father D---'s place?" "Father Galvin, a most "exemplary and energetic priest, has succeeded your old friend's "immediate successor. He has laboured hard to raise our new '' church with its convent schools. Father Clarke, pastor of the "parish of Glendaloch, and he have done wonders in this way, "for, under the guidance of Mr. J. J. MacCarthy, they may "be said to be the first who revived the science of church­ " building in this county. Our cardinal-archbishop is erecting "new churches in every part of his diocese, to say nothing of "convents, schools, and other monuments of piety. I suppose "you know the cardinal ?'' "Madam," I replied, " I had the· '' honour of his acquaintance in Rome." '' Well, what do yo'IJ, "think of him '1" "Madam," said I, "I have studied cha­ " racter in the pages of La Bruyere, Rochefoucald, and other '' great moralists, and also in society at large. It may not, "however, becmne a person in n1y position to speak of one "who has been so highly honoured by his present Holiness ; "but if you'd have me tell how the cardinal has impressed me, "I'll answer in a few words. I look on hin1 as a superior . '' man, gentle, le_arned, and laborious, indifferent to vapid "praise and foolish censure, and solely guided by his con­ '' science. I hope he n1ay live long and see many another "church like this of St. Michael, rise up in gracefulne3s al'l:d "beauty. Whenever he dies-and I trust that day may be far .. cxu PREF.A.CE.

'' off-his Eminence will leave the reputation of a second "Colu:m.bkill behind him, along with other high attributions. "But what of the Flannel Hall, and Mungo, and Tanner, and "the Briton 1" "The Hall is closed up," answered the lady. "I cannot say what became of Father D---'s horse ; but I "know the big curate · did all he could for poor Mungo. '' The faithful creature pined and died soon after his master. "The Briton is many years dead ; and the old ascendency party '' is all but defunct, owing, in great measure, to the charitable "instructions of our good parish. priest and his curates. The "old feuds and factions are now only remembered as traditions "of the past, and all classes have begun to think kindly of each "other. Have you seen Father H---, whom we used to ''call the young Roman?'' "Not yet-for I determined to "'visit the dead before calling on him. I corresponded with "him constantly. I know he is well, and living in a back street "in Dublin. He's like a glow-worm, shining all the brighter "for the obscurity of his atmosphere. One question more and "I have done-what were .poor Father D---'s pecuniary "circumstances when he died 1" " He had not,'' said the lady, "a single pound to·bequeath. During his lifetime he was con­ " stantly · giving to the sick and the distressed, and had it "pleased God to afflict hiin with a long illness, he wouldn't "have been able to pay the apothecary's bill. Even the fiddle "he used to play was sold to help to liquidate some inevitablo "trifling debt incurred during his last days." ''Just what I'd "have expected," I rejoined, as I was about to take leave­ " but had I been here at the time, I would have feed my friend "Doctor O'Ferrall* to come down, and, if possible, save his "life. I'd have given all I posses~ed to accomplish that, and '' thought the money well expended. But where's the violin '1'' "One Terry MnicShane O'Byrne, of Knock-a-Temple, bought * This eminent physician, whose name shall ever be asRociated with the Hospital of St. Vincent, Stephen's Green, one of the finest institu­ tions in the world, died a few months ago. The writer, who received m3,ny kindnesses at his hands, and had experience of his generosity to others, gladly avails himself of this opportunity to mark his respect for the memory of a distinguished Irishman and good friend. ... PREF.A.CE. CXlll

"it at the auction, and took it to America." "I'd rather have "it,'' said I, shaking the kind lady's hand, "than Sappho's ''lyre." All dead! thought I, as I looked at the last rusted spike on: the parapet of the Flannel Hall-even the Briton has gone to his place-abiit in locum swu,m: isn't it fortunate he did not hang himself with a halter 1 But is the brother of the Philo­ math of Glen-i-bla dead 1 I'll try, for it is a pleasant drive to the glen. Jumping on a car, I directed the driver to take me to Glenmalure. Passing through Grenane, I bethought me of the young Ron1an, who, I conjectured, must by this have some wrinkles on his face, although I had reason to know there was not a single one on his heart. Lord forgive you, Father Kavanagh, said I, as I touched the wall of the little "campo santo" with my stick-you might have written a better history than poor MacCabe. And the old crone at Ballinacor gate had disappeared through another and darker gate, under whose arch: we all must all one day pass. What then is immutable ·? Surely nothing but the everlasting features of Nature. Unchange­ ableness belongs to divine institutions ; mutability charac­ terises those of men. " Is there a hotel in the glen 1" I asked the driver. "There is, sir; an excellent one, kept by Mr. Fogarty." " What became of Wiseman, wbp had the public­ " house there 1" "I don't know; he didn't do well in the '' place, and left it." Then, thought I, it is not every 1:nan who is called wise that has wisdom. Had he made money, he might have called himself a Plato, nemine contradicente. Halting at the door of the handsome new hotel, which had replaced the old public-house, I ordered dinner and a bed. While the former was being prepared, I ~trolled out in the direction of Carrig-Giurtna, and, sitting down on the wall right opposite to it, bethought nie of the day when I climbed its . steep ascent with _the young Roman. 'Tis many a year since then, said I, and I have witnessed queer doings in the long in­ terval. But you, old weather-beaten pile of stone, you are not a whit more hoary or rain-channelled than when first I saw you. I know, however, more about you now than I did . CXlV PREFACE. then, and how you excited the astonishment of an English viceroy who came down here to pillage, slay, and hunt honest people out of their homesteads. Shall I clamber up your sides again 7 No, these feet of mine have been on the Tarpeian and the roof of St. Peter's 1 " Dinner, sir," said a bright-eyed boy, who was mine host's son. '' Thank you, my fair child,'' I answered ; '' will you " come and sit down with me while I am despatching it~,, "I will, sir.'' "Thank you, my boy, I like such company as "yours, so guileless, and so blessedly ignorant of the wickedness '' of this world." There is not in the Gospels a tenderer or more touching picture than that of our blessed Saviour calling around him the little ones, -in whose eyes he beheld, as it were mir­ rored, however faintly, his own unclouded innocence and celes­ tial simplicity. During my meal, the child's frankness and babble amused me; and what pleased me more, he promised to accompany me next morning ..iown the glen, and to Baltiboy. Being a good deal tired, I sought my bed early, recalled the incidents of the day, and allowed my mind to travel back to that eventful night when the Major had sleep scared from his eyes. May he not have stretched himself here, said I to myself, quoting Virgil's line-

c. Hie srevus tendebat Achilles." But oh, Mantuan Bard, forgive me-the Major was not an Achilles-he was nothing of the sort, but a pimping spy, and canting old knave. Alexander envied Achilles because Homer sang his praises. I wonder what the ghost of the Major will think if he should get a read of my Personal Mem~irs, which shall be incorporated with Peter MacCabe's Inferno and Recol­ lections of '98 ! Murphy, the young Ro1nan told me in one of his letters, now calls himself a Taxiderrnist. Strange designa­ tion this, said I, endeavouring to keep n1y eyes open ; but the names of trades, it seems, have undergone a wonderful revolu­ tion in Dublin. In Rome, the man who sells bacon, cheese, and oil, calls himself a huxter ; in Dublin, a person who fol­ : ows the same unctuous trade., and advertises such obiects of -1

PREFACE,

'J;i?'t'U, as "crambs " "J. owls " "piers' faces " and '' middles " styles hin1selfb an' Italian ' warehouseman!:::, ' Oh, shades 'of Raffael and Angelo! Well, they are right; for, after all, there is something in a name, no matter what Sha;kspeare may have said to the contrary. Why have I got on this train of reflec­ tion 1 I don't know, but it is a soporific one-I'll go to sleep. How thne flies, thought I, while dressing myself next morning before the sun had risen. This time twelvemonths I was living among the vineyards and olive groves of a pretty village some twenty miles south of Rome, and to-day I am back again among these mountains, whose stern features I have never forgotten. There goes the shrill crow of the cock, and the sun is rising over Fannaneran. How rapid the succession of moments, and is not this the definition of time 1 In Italy the Angelus bell used to rouse me from sleep, and set me thinking of the archangel's joyful message; but here the red cock on the shed yonder re­ minds nie of a sad scene in the greatest of all tragedies-of treachery, apostasy, repentance, and forgiveness. How well I remember the passage of St. Bernard, which poor Father F--- used to quote in Clongowes, "Those who preach the "word of God are like cocks: during the darkness of life they '' announce the coming light." I wish s01ne gentle soul would erect a little oratory in this glen, were it for nothing else but to have the Angelus tolled out at the rising and setting of the sun. Some priest staying in this neat hotel n1ight occasionally say Mass there for the people of the glen and the stout fellows who are leading a sort of Carthusian life in the barrack yonder. I wouldn't wonder if the cardinal archbishop, who is so fond of church-building, would one day do this or cause it to be done. Whether or no, a few moments of recollectedness may save one a world of trouble during the day that has just dawned. Socrates says that life should be a continual meditation of death ; . but he was wrong, for a man has to act as well as think as long as he is here belo,v. Perpetual n1editation may suit the angels, but be that as it may, I can never lose sight of what Lord Bacon has wisely said-think every morning that you shall certainly h.1ve to encounter crosses, and mayhap pleasure, during the . I CXVl PREFACE. l .I,, day, and bear in 1nind that the evening often pays dearly for the follies of the morning. Is it not strange that a man like that could preach so well and practise so lamely 7 Well now, the sunlight is on all the hills. Drumgoff, Drun1kit, and Fan­ naneranlook gay and cheerful, although they beheld doings more than two centuries ago which one would think should have · flung an irremovable shadow ever their crests and slopes. My vivid imagination carries 1ne back to those days when the De­ puty Lord Gray, Sir Willia1n Stanley, Sir Peter Carew, and the Cosbies were defeated here, and obliged to scramble for their lives up the rugged sides of this wild glen. Sir William Russell, another deputy, din~d within sight of Carrig-giurtna, and con­ trived to entrap the O'Byrne, whom he foully murdered. He · sent the unfortunate chief's head to Queen Elizabeth, who must hq,ve been an exception to her sex if she took any pleasure in looking at so ghastly a trophy. History, however, tells us of many women whose impassibility was mistaken for courage. Well, after having slain the chief, Russell's soldiers burned the homesteads of the people who lived here, drove off their cattle to feed his Dublin garrison, and fi1led this sequestered place with desolation. Recalling all these facts, of which I was ignorant the first time I visited the place, n1y fancy-if I was disposed to indulge it-would almost hear the agonized shrieks of widows and orphans, and the terrible in1precations they heaped on that cruel man, were it not for the sweet murmurs of the waterfall beneath my bed-room window. Ah, there's now no trace of blood in these fields. It has long since dried up, but not so the memory of guilt and injustice. That survives the victim and the slayer, and never can be wiped out. Yesterday evening I saw the graves of the two "rebels" scourged and shot to death by the Britons. When those dried bones shall have heard the Lord's voice, will they not crave niercy for their murderers 7 Generous and pious is the senti­ nient that has guarded those lowly graves against the sc:rthe and the mattock-only second to that which places the growing wheat under the guardianship of the cross-the blessed memento of the Saviour's love. Who but Catholics appreciate this holy .. PREFACE. cxvn

syn1bol, which Chrysostom tells us is "the bread of the famish­ ing, a fountain to the thirsty, a garment for the naked, and the poor man's consolation 1" But I must give over moralising now, and betake n1e to the work that brought me down here. '' I hope you liked your breakfast," said my kind host, with his beaming features, as I rose from the table. '' Indeed I did," I replied, '' and he should be something more fastidious than an '' Epicurean who would not have been satisfied with it." "But • "you have eaten sparingly," continued n1y kind Boniface­ " only one egg, and very little of our sweet butter." "Mr. "Fogarty," I replied, "the health of soul and body is best '~ consulted by not entirely satisfying either desire or appetite. '' Gluttony is one of the strongest and most marked character­ " istics of an idiot. I have had the misfortune to meet one of '' that class in my travels-I hope I may never see his smooth, '' soapy face again-and could not help thinking of Erisich­ '' thon." '' Of whom, sir 1" Oh, I see-you don't know that '' piece of history-I'll tell it you. Erisichthon was a profane '' fellow, who cut down an ancient tree (just what the Briton '' did in Glendaloch) in the sacred groves of Ceres. For this, '' says the Mythology, he was punished by an insatiable appe­ '' tite till, everything else failing him, he ate his own flesh. "Dante mentions this monstrosity, and so does Ovid. I had "better quote his lines, or a few of them-

"So impious Erisichthon's hunger raves, Receives refreshments and refreshments craves. Food raises a desire for food, and meat Is but a new provocative to eat. He grows more empty as the more supplied, And endless cramming but extends the void." · "May heaven pity you and yours if the fellow I met ever "comBs here ; but it is not likely, for it was in France I lit " upon him. But as for my breakfast, don't be uneasy-I '' regulate my meals after the fashion of one Luigi Cornaro, "who lived to be ninety-nine, and wrote a book on 'Sober '' Life,' which he dedicated to Pope Gregory XIII., more than "two hundred and sixty years ago. Now let me have your ... CXVlll PREF.A.CE.

"handsome little son for a companion. I am going to Baltiboy, '' and must return to Dublin to-day.'' 'Tis a sweet thing to walk through romantic scenes with a growing youth, who is susceptive of good impressions. I'll leave some, said I to myself, on this child's mind, and he will remember me in his prayers when I am no more. Going through the ''pass," I told him who made it, centuries ago, and answered all the ingenuous questions he asked me. To mine, regarding Bryan Farrell and Driscol MacCabe, he replied that both were dead, but that there was an old woman-Mrs. Raffer~y-who could tell me all about them. "Here she is," said he, pointing to a poor old creature feebly supporting her­ self on a stick, as we got within a few paces of the Burnt­ house. "God save you, Mrs. Rafferty-didn't you know Bryan '' Farrell and Driscol MacCabe 1" "I did, your honour; but " sure they're both above in the Churches." " I thought they '' were dead." '' And so they are-they're buried in the "Churches." "Did Bryan or Driscol leave children?'' "No, "they never married." "Did you know Peter MacCabe 1" '' Is it the Master 1 Indeed I did, and well. I was a slip of a '' girl when he was out with the boys, and after they were bet, " I often brought him a morsel to eat when he was hidin' " among the rocks in the glen. The bandsmen from Rathdrum '' kept a sharp look-out for him, for they knew it was he who '' planned the beatin' of the ancient Britons in Bal-Ellis. Poor "Peter was a great scholar, and Driscol was nearly as good ; '' they are both under the same sod, nigh the Round Tower­ ,' may the Lord rest their souls." '' Amen ! Mrs. Rafferty," said I, handing her a trifle, for which she thanked me. After surveying the ruined house, and pulling a piece of the charred timber from the walls, my little friend and I sat down on the fragment of a broken mullion. "You know," said I, '' all about that house and how it was burnt 1" '' I do, sir.'' "It is now a ruin." "Yes." "Can you tell me what is the "handsomest ruin one can see ?" '' No, sir." '' Well, I'll tell " you. The handsomest of all ruins is a handsome old man ; " and the most unsightly ruin is th9,t of a man who, by trans- . PREFACE. CXU'

"gressing God's law, and indulging the senses illicitly, destroys '' body and soul. You, I hope, will live to be an old man.'' · '' I hope so, sir." '' What are the sheep doing yonder in the "field?" " Browsing." " What will they do to-night when "they're turned into the sheds 1" "Chew the cud." "Ex­ " actly so ; and you, my boy, should take a lesson from them. "In youth, browse, that you may have in old age on what to '' ruminate; without that your mind would die for want of '' nourishment. Look at that empty house-think how desolate "it is as it grows older and older, and bear in mind tl1at there '' are empty spaces in the life of each man, which nothing but "meditation on our duties to God, our neighbour, and ourselves, "can fill. Exhaust, if you can, all springs of knowledge while '' you are at school-love God, your religion, your neighbour, '' and your country, and be your life short or long, you will die "a happy death. 'Tis tc~·accomplish this we have been created; '' but if we fail, we must forfeit all the blessings of eternity. "Come now, let's return, for I must leave for Wicklow." To­ wards the close of the day I reached that place, prayed for a while at the grave of the old patriarch, bethought me that I was not forgotten at the altar to which I contributed my mite, and set out for Dublin. Was there anything melodramatic or sensa.tional (I have learnt this new word since my return from countries where it is not used to distinguish some maudlin crack-brained book) in my first interview with the curate after the lapse of so many years ? No ; and I'll here state what, perhaps, prevented the possibility of any overheated burst of feeling. In the first place, I had already written that I would be with him on acer­ tain day at five o'clock. Secondly, as I have elsewhere stated, we corresponded frequently, and thus maintained an almost uninterrupted conversation through letters during my long absence. Finally, we exchanged photographs every year-so that, with the aid of a n1icroscope, we were able to discern every-even the minutest-line that time or thought traced on our features. Wonderful, indeed, is the power of the photo­ grapher ; he alone can metamorphose an individual into a Janus CXX. PREFACE. by giving him a second face. He alone can take ourselves from ourselves, and reproduce the image so faithfully and so life-like that we n1ight wonder at its silence if we did not fancy it was thinking. Who can paint a sound, or what n1atters it that these lips are silent ? Has not the eye all it can desire permanently fixed in a mirror? Ah, if that tongue could speak, we'd be bored to death listening to the praises of this marvellous iµven• tion ! There's only one class of people who will turn up their noses at this eulogy-housebreakers and gentlemen, for every­ one is an esquire now-a-days-who make too free with their employers' cash-boxes. Isn't the photographer a great let and hindrance to folk,of that sort 1 Well, will not what I have said account for the absence of sobs, sighs, fainting-fits, inane blubberings, spasmodic embracings, and all the other ex­ plosions of balderdash which characterise the meeting of two friends, after long years of separatio:ri, in fashionable Novels ? Mounting two pair of stairs, I met my friend at his door, grasped his two hands, looked into his eyes with an earnest­ ness which made me feel as if a portion of my very existence was being transfused into them, and asked him-" Is dinner '' ready ?" "No, John," he replied ; "cold meat would be '' s01nething like a cold welcome, and in honour of the occasion "I have directed my Perpetua to cook a beefsteak. Have '' patience, or it, too, will come up cold, owing to my elevated ''situation." '' 'Tis, indeed," I remarked, '' an elevated situa­ " tion, but one that is not likely to turn your head. Good and "useful occupations help to elevate the soul, and I know what "yours are. The carpetless floor, books, and portraits of the '' men of mind which enliven your poor walls, would tell any '' one how your time is spent." '' Pleasantly enough, thank '' God ; but the look-out here is anything but inspiring, and "were I an astrologist, I'd hav·e but an odd star to gaze at." ''Well then," quoth I, '' you are just in the position tv resolve "that knotty question which Damootas defies his rival to '' answer- " Say where the round of heav'n, which all contains, To three short ells on earth our sight restrains : Tell that, and rise a Phcebus for thy pains." PREFACE, CXXl

,·, That query," said he, "has been answered long since. A "sweep, half-way up a chimney, can't see more than three ells "of the sky ; and a man down in a well sees just about as "much of it. I myself-thanks to the chimney-pots which '' smoke above me-can hardly see more than the sweep. Are '' you satisfied?" '' Truth, they say, lies in a well-I am satis­ ,' fied ; but here comes Perpetua, whon1 you have stolen out of Manzoni's ' Sposi.' " . . . • ...... "Thank God," said I, while Perpetua was folding the cloth, "for that excellent meal." "And you may also thank the parishioners," added my host, " whose voluntary pennies have provided it." " Heaven bless them," quoth I, "and may the day "never come when the priest of the people's religion shall have "to crave support from the British treasury." "There now, '' Perpetua, leave us alone for a while, and in a coup~ e of hours "let us have some coffee." "Friend S3.id I, to my host, "I see "a few additional furrows under your eyes that don't appear in "the last photograph. From this I conjecture you have been "working hard. Marks of that sort are creditable to you, as "much so as a sabre scar got in battle is to a soldier. Furrows '' or wrinkles, call them as you like, distinguish the thoughtful '' man and scholar. The face of a gourmcind is, generally speak­ " ing, as smooth as that of a new-born babe. Now, as I am '' about to settle down and complete my personal n1emoirs, yoa "will collect all the letters I have written you. Yours to me '' are all safe, arranged according to their dates, and will make " a goodly figure in my posthumous work. I have now reached " and passed the epoch of disenchantments, of which poor '' Father D---, heaven rest him ! warned me." "I sup­ " pose,'? said the curate interrupting me, '' you are going to "build a little dwelling like that outside the Porta de Popolo." "Nothing of the sort; I have no foolish mania for building. "Don't you r01nen1ber the proverb-the man who has a rage for '' building needs no other enemy to effect his ruin 1 Don't you '' know that building involves the necessity of repairs? I hn.ve '' othtr and more useful work to employ nie. 'Tis, I believe, "l\iontaigne who says that the perpetual work of life ought to ~xxii PREF.A.OE,

'' be to build for death." '' But you may marry·?" '' Marry ! not "I; had I been disposed to take that step, I might have done so "long since, but you ought bear in mind that genius should be " 'unmated,' because 'consecrated.' The only happily married '' people aro they who wo nld marry over again if they were free '' to do so, and I'd like to know how many of that sort you '' could find if the plain truth were told. Well, now you know '' what I contemplate. ·I will settle ·down for a few months in '' the neighbourhood of Enniskerry, and finish my papers on "the O'Tooles. When they are ready I'll publish them in the "colun1ns of the NATION, which awakened a taste for the culti­ '' vation of Irish lore in prose and undying verse. The likeness "of my ancestor Arthur Severus-the Lord pardon him !-shall "be prefixed to the volume along with something in the shape "of an introduction." "You bear a strong resemblance," said '' the priest, '' to the portrait of old Arthur." '' I am aware of "that, and the more my beard whitens the more I resemble '' him. 'Tis a remarkable fact in physiology that the trausmis­ " sion of resemblance is often interrupted in two or three '' generations, and reappears in another. Now, no two eggs can " be more like each other than Arthur Severus and I. The same "contour of feature, the same blue eyes, and the sa1ne hand­ ., some nose and flowing beard. The painter of that portrait, '' whoever he was, has given Arthur a sort of immortality. " Now you will give me an introduction to some friend living "near Enniskerry, and he will help me to procure a modest "dwelling where I will have opportunity to prepare the papers, '' and complete my memoirs." '' Certainly," said my host, '' I '' will introduce you to a second edition of poor Father F---, ''whom we used to call the big priest. The gentleman of whom '' I speak is better lettered, and, I may add, bound. He will ''show you every kindness, for he is very generous and simple '' withal. But here's old Perpetua and the coffee." '' So much "the better, and now before I leave I'd like to know what '' became of the long-winded barrister we met at poor Father "D---'s long years ago." " Oh, that's an amusing episode. After you left us, the poor PREFACE. cxxiii

'' barrister's volubility became irrepressible, and he was to be "found at every public meeting declaiming for religion and '' country. His friends and party grew tired of him, thought '' him a bore, and he thereon got att::tched to a London news­ " paper, as own correspondent. He had thus an opportunity to "draw coarse caricatures of his former friends, and represent '' them as doing their utmost to overturn all civil government­ " in a word, to create revolution. The heretofore liberal now "profes;:,ed himself a moderate conservative, denounced radi­ ,' calism, republicanism, and, above all, Ultramontanism, '' which he ·defined as a plot hatched by the pope and the '' college of cardinals to get possession of Ireland, and erect " an Inquisition so1newhere in the neighbourhood of Maynooth. "'rhis told well with the bigots, who, when they got into power, ' "silenced his importunities by giving him a mediocre place. '' The poor man has abandoned all aspirations after fame, suffers "from gout, and, I doubt not, would consider the doctor who " would cure him the most renowned mxn in the world"-" just '' what I'd have expected from a verbose fellow of his sort. "Loquacity is one of the marl:s of an empty head. Then "again, l suppose his self-esteem was hurt, and you know ''there are some natures so weak on that point as not to scruple "any sort of the most wicked vindictiveness. Oh, I could '' give you a singular proof of this, and show you. how a head in " every other respect void as a blind nut-shell, abounds in "malignant resources, which would make a fiend jealous. '' Let us talk no more of the unhappy man. I couldn't wish "him a worse enemy than his ailment. Now let me have the "note of introduction you pron1ised. I'd like to settle in the '' vicinity of the ruin of St. Mochonoc's oratory, and set about '' preparing my papers at once. This will take about two "months, and I ,vill be free to see you then as often as you like. ' '' Till then, however, I must be left to myself; and in the "meanw'l1ile ymi w·n think of some yming parish priest, bidding '' fair for a long life, .v;10 will consent to act as my literary ex- " ecutor. Do you know any likely to suit?" "I think I do, "but will he not also have to administer whatever money or CXXlV PREFACE.

"other property you may die seized of 1" "By no 111eans; I "have my own ·views on this subject, and I may as well let you "know what they are. While living I'll dispense as much as I "c1n afford to deserving objects, for I believe this to be the "best means of pleasing heaven. What a man devises to be '' distributed by those who succeed him, cannot be said to be '' dispensed by his own hand. Now, this is the eighteenth of "October, and I propose that you come and spend a few days '' with me, on or about the seventeenth of December instant. "You shall hear from me often in the interval, during which, " I hope, you will strive to have my wishes realised. Good '' night-God be with you." It was a bitter coJd day, that memorable 18th December. My guest and I were enjoying the grateful heat of a strong blazing fire of coal, which some geologist has termed bottled sun-shine, and waiting the arrival of the young parish priest, and the big curate, whose acquaintance I had already made. Four of us, I remarked, will 1nake a qiiorum-your number above ·in Grenane long, long ago-and I trust we will be 1 able to settle the business of my literary testament. I have the O'Tooles ready for publication, and the Editor of the NATION has kindly consented to give them to the world. I have traversed every field in the ancient territory of Feracualan, where the O'Toole was once lord paramount ; nor do I know what I could add to my papers on the subject. To be sure, it will not be so good a book as Sir Bernard Burke, Mr. Prender­ gast, or Mr. Gilbert could write, were any of them disposed to do so ; but my book, nevertheless, is a book, and has something in it. I am delighted to say that the actual lord of the ancient territory of my forefathers is a good man, generous to his tenants, a large employer, and worthy the respect, and what is better, the love of those who hold under him. I hope he may live long, and be happy here and hereafter. How admirably Mr. Posnet manages Lord Powerscourt's property! There never was a better or 1nore kind-hearted gentleman in a posi­ tion of such responsibility. From one end of Feracualan to the other, I have not seen a single trace of evictions-levelled PREFACE. CXXV

homesteads, alas, so common in Ireland-but, on the contrary, neat cottages, which lord Powerscourt has erected for his numerous labourers. Neither could I say too much about his a.nxiety for the education of his dependents, for he has open Jd a. capacious school for the rising youth. How strongly does all this contrast with what I have seen in another part of Ireland. I could name you a property owned by a sort of modern Caliban, who, some years ago, evicted a number of his tenants, and compelled the next door neighbours of them to tumble down their houses ! W asn;t this to some extent boiling the kid in the 1nilk of his dam 1 But would I have those victims of tyranny and injustice shoot this miscreant, who, '' ct,ny print of goodness will not take, being capable of all ill?" By no means. But I'd have them represent their wrongs through the press, and thus call public attention to such heartless, nay, fiendish 1nisconduct. The time of prejudices and antipathies of race is passing away,. and I believe that the humanity of the English people would protest against such detestable vileness as that to which I have j alluded. But here come our guests-let me open the door and welcome them. ''Have you heard the news?" said the young parish priest, before he had well crossed the threshold." '' No-what is it 1" '' Good, joyful news-the Right Honourable Mr. Justice O' Hagan has to-da,y received the seal of Lord Chancellor of "Ireland. Hurrah, hurrah!" "Heaven be praised!" I ex­ claimed. '' The representative of the hereditary J usticiary of ~' Tyrone is Chancellor of Ireland-the man whose exiled fore­ " father is buried on the J aniculum. Ah, the Prime Minister­ "is a wise man. I now see that he knows how to ·do justice to "Ireland. He has initiated his high career-which, I trust in '' God, will be long and prosperous-by an act than which none '' could be more pleasing or grateful to the hearts of Irishmen of '' all creeds and classes. Long life and every blessing to the· · '' Lord Chancellor~ Little did we think in the glen, years ago, "that we should live to hear such tidings. Say wlrn,t you may, "genius, unsullied honour, and pure patriotism, will win their "reward even here below. But now to our dinner, and then "to the great business of the evening."

I I CXXVl PREFACE,

A couple of capons, a roast leg of mutton, and a frugal dessert, gave us a hearty meal; and when Felim Muldowney removed the cloth, our tongues grew marvellously talkf ul. The young parish priest was very sprightly, brimming over with good humour, and armed at all points with repartee and thought. "Mr. O'Toole," said he, " I hope we'll soon meet ,., here or elsewhere to celebrate your wedding." " Such an '' occasion,'' I replied, '' shall never c01ne. I have weighed '' that question duly, and resolved to follow St. Paul's ad vice­ " 'Art thou loosed from a wife 1 Seek not a wife.' St. Basil too '' has left us some admirable hints on this matter-' The 1nan,' "says he, 'who li".:es unn1ated, has uone but himself to think '' for, and can well look after the concerns of his soul and body; "while the married man is in a state of perpetual anxiety about "his children and wi:e, to sav nothin6 of the latter, who must '' be often apprehensive of becoming a widow.' Then again, "the ladies of our time are very unlike her who, the book '' of Proverbs tells us, ' Sought wool and flax, and wrought '' by the counsel of her hands.' I don't like to say anything "hard of the fair sex, but I believe the Clytemnestras and "Andromacas are very rare just now." " But if all were of "your opinion," replied the parish priest, "what would bec01ne "of us-I mean of our dues 1'' '' Don't be uneasy on that "subject, reverend sir, for I wouldn'L wonder if what St. "Jerome relates were repeated in Dublin to~morrow. ',Vhen '' I was secretary to pope Damasus,' says that eminent writer, ' I "saw a woman who had successively twenty-two husbands, and "a man who had had the same number of wives. At last, '' when both were free, they married, and the grand ques­ '' tion of the day was, which of the two will bury the other 1 '' The woman died, and the populace assembling, placed a ''paln1 in the hands of the widower, and accompanied him "to the funeral.' " " A pleasant anecdote," remarked the big priest ; '' but have you," he continued, '' seen the Granny '' lately 1" '' Ah, poor old creature, she was here a few days '' ago, and told me how she went, despite her feebleness, to see "the cardinal-archbishop confirming children in Enniskerry. PREFACE. CXXVll

"I couldn't help thinking 0f a son10what similar incident, " described in Manzoni's ' Betrothed,' where we read of the "old and young, the hale and infirm, crowding to get a look at "cardinal Frederic Borromeo. I have a special regard for the "Granny-she .is the widow of an O'Toole, and received-by "way of marriage settlement, I suppose-a considerable amount "of their fluency, and imagination. Some over-zealous lady "from Dublin made a pious raid on her religious convictions, "but nothing could be happier than the question with which " Granny put an. ene. to the controversy. 'The lady,' said '' Granny, 'was very tall, excessively thin, and had a waist like "a wasp's ; in a word, she was length without breadth.' Well, "she opened fire on the pope, cardinals, and prie_sts, and ex­ " horted the Granny to give up idolatry, and betake her to the '' Bible, if she wished to save hers.ml. 'How dare you talk '' to me in that way?' replied poor Granny-' Aren't you oae of '' Martin Luther's gray-hoiinds ?' The zealot felt the force of '' the hit, gathered herself up, and made off. Ariel's lance '' might have given a keener thrust, but certainly not a more "stunning one. 'Granny,' said I, when I heard the anecdote, '' 'did you ever read Dante Alighieri ?' ' I never,' said she, " 'knew a man of the name of Dan Gallagher, but one, and he's '' ' dead these forty years.' 'Well then, Granny,' I added, '' 'you are not a plagiarist, although that same image of the "sleuth-hound, gannt and eager, occurs in the thirty-third "Canto of the 'Inferno.' Granny, I see you understand all '' about the spretre injnria formre-here's half-a-crown for you.' " But the poor old creature had many a kind word for some "charitable Protestant young ladies who visited her in her "illness, and, without troubling her religious sensibilities, gave '' her bread and words of comfort. I wish them both good '' husbands and length of years. Now, reverend pastor of " --- , you. know, I presume, why we have met here "to-night, and I trust you will kindly answer a few ques­ '' tions." '' Certainly," replied the parish priest. " A.re your "parents living '?'' " No." " What was your father's and "mother's age 1" "My father lived to be eighty-eight, and ... CXXVlll PREFACE.

'' my mother died a year or so younger." '' Good ! there's an "old rule in Prosody which says that derivatives follow the "quantities of their primitives. Do you believe what Horace '' says, Book fourth, Ode 4th- " Fortes creantur fortibus, et bonis ; Est in juvencis, est in equis, patrum . Virtus; nee imbellem feroces, Progenerant aquilre columbam ?"* '' I do." ''Have you ever had what the doctors call bronchitis ; '' are you afraid of the east-wind, or have you ever been "obliged to resort to such places as Vichy or Lisdoonvarna ?" '' I may have had a trifling cold, caught by getting out of my "bed to attend a ,sick call; but as for bronchitis, which takes "such solemn shakes out of a doctor's head, and so many '' guineas out of a patient's pocket, I don't rightly know what "it is. The east-wind is as agreeable to me as the soft south. "Vichy is somewhere in France, and Lisdoonvarna, I presume, "is somewhere in Ireland. I never bothered my head about '' the longitude or latitude of either place. Why should I, '' when I have water good enough for my purposes in my own "parish-eh ?" '' vVhat do you think of doctors ?" '' Doctors '' of what ?" '' Medicine, of course." ' ' I think many of them '' are like the definition of a sacrament." " Pray tell us how "they resemble that 1" "_In being visible signs of an invisible ''thing." The curate, said I to n1yself, has elected the right man. "Have you ever used cod-liver oil?" "Yes, I experi­ '' mented with it-in corpore vili-on the rusted hinges of an '' old door, and found that it only increased their creaking." "Then you have no faith in oils, quackery...... ?'' '' Oh, I rather like Roseoglio ; I esteem it a palatable liqueur; '' but as for the quacks-and there's a long family of that '' genus-I look on them as an amusing class, especially when " they hold forth on the 'recentest discovery in therapeutics,'

+ "The brave and good are copies of their kind, In steers laborious ; and in generous steeds We trace their sires, nor can the bird of Jave. Intrepid, fierce, beget th' unwarlike clove.,, Francis• s Translation. • . PREFACE. CXXIX

"and such like, wherewith they gull the credulous." "Then, '' have you no faith in medicine 1" '' Oh, I have ; but I have " very little in the doctors, whom the French call Medecins. '' "Who, in your opi~ion, is the best doctor 1" " The one who '' prescribes least medicine." '' Have you any other answer to "my question 1" " Yes ; the ablest doctors are time, patience, "resignation, sobriety, and, above all, Religion." "How "would you know an out-and-out bad doctor 1'' "By seeing "him often in .church-yards, bemoaning the loss of a patient." "Do you sleep well 1" "The broad-side of a seventy-four might '' possibly disturb me a little once I lay my head on my pillow." "Do you rise early 1" "Usually long before cock-crow. I '' have taken as my model the householder who, St. Matthew "tens us, rose with the dawn-diluculo is, I think, the word." · "Now, what's your age 1" "I have just topped forty." "That's nigh a quarter of a century under my own, and you "mean, I suppose, to live as long as you can 1" "Assuredly, '' I'll keep the old creditor dunning me as long as possible, I'll "' acknowledge the debt, and give him long bills renewable from '' time to tiine for the amount." '' Well, then, you are the man "for my purpose, and I'd like to know will you consent to be '' my literary executor thirty years after my death, whenever "that may occur 1" " Mr. O'Toole, it will afford me much '' pleasure to survive you so long, and even longer, but if I con­ '' sent what responsibility devolves upon me~" "Simply this, "that you shall see my Personal Memoirs and MacCabe's 'Re­ " collections' published, I having set apart a sufficient sum for "that purpose." "But why not publish now 1" "Here's n1y "answer to that very reasonable question-all great reputations "are posthun1ous. Talleyrand and other distinguished cha­ " racters appreciated this grand truth. I have seen strange "things in my time, and tad a hand in subverting a couple of "thrones. Mig~tn't my Memoirs help to disturb the European "equilibrium if given to the public now 1 I am well aware '' that they would provoke the spleen of some few effete old "fellows still living, and excite them to avenge themselves on " their tenants and dependants. Thirty years after my retire- CXXX PREF.A.CE.

"ment from this sublunary world, my Memoirs will make the "reader doubt whether his forefathers could have been guilty " of the follies which I detail circumstantially-nay, will "teach Irishmen that, instead of flying at each other's throats " for the sake of speculative questions, they should all band '' together to promote the welfare of their common country. "The arch of peace which Moore. saw in his inspired visions ""is beginning to rise above our political horizon, and the blend­ '' ing of all the tints, including the orange and the green, will be a '' sign that our countrymen have merged all their passions and '' antipathies. Should Mr. Gladstone live some twenty years ''more-and I pray God he may-pikes and black-thorns will be "found nowhere but in museums of antiquities ; and as for '' the orange lily men will regard it as too fair a flower to be " distained with blood. Have I satisfied you 1" "Yes, so far ; '' but do you expect that the work will go through many edi­ " tions 1" "I do, five or six." " Well then I will act, and no "matter how good or useful the Memoirs may turn out, I hope "to see them go through all the editions you mention. Don't " be angry with me if I pray that the sale of each may be very " .';low." " Quite the contrary, provided it be sure ; and to con­ ,' vince you how anxious I an1 that your earthly sojourn may be "protracted, I'll now present you with a copy of Luigi Cornaro's "grand book, 'Della Vita Sobria.' Study it well, and, like him, "you will, perhaps, be able to write a comedy at the age of "ninety-one." '' Anything at all but tragedy, for I have "little taste for the gloomy or sombre." " Many thanks ; my ''last will shall show how much I appreciate your kindness~ "May your tenacity of life exceed that for which parish priests '' in general have been so distinguished. Here's Muldowney " with the coffee, and the grand business of the evening is now " complete." t "B~t what of the O'Tooles 1" asked the big priest. " The " work," I replied, "is in the hands of the printers, and, as I '' said before, will appear first in successive issues of the NATION, '' and then in collected form, with the portrait of Arthur '' Severus prefixed." " Weren't the O'Tooles.," remarked my . PREFACE, C'XX.Xl

"interlocutor, " a sorry set to lose their estates 1" "No "doubt,'' I replied, "but how could it be otherwise 1 Were "they not alwaya cutting each other's throats 1 Chief as I am '' of the name, I don't regret the loss. A better man than he '' who now owns Feracua.lan never existed. He is fast rising '' above the slough of old prejudices, and will one day be classed '' among the best benefactors of the Irish people. And yet it "occurs to me that I could have stayed the grant to Sir Richard '' Wingfield had I been living in the days of James the First." "Oh, how could you have done that 1" exclaimed my guests. "Well, I'll tell you if you listen to me. Whenever you want to "get round a man, first find out his weak point and hit where he "is most vulnerable. If he has written a book, tell him you have '' read it, and are amazed at the profundity of his wisdom.

"In a word, harp on the cord of his self-esteem. I think it 1 "was in. Machiavelli I found this ·hint. Well, I'd· have gone "straight to King James and addressed him thus-' May it "please your majesty, I, chief of the O'Tooles, have learnt with '' extreme concern that you are about to pass the best part of '' the domain of my forefathers to Sir Richard ,vingfield, knight, '' commander of your royal forces in Ireland.' Doubtless James "would have replied in his broad Scotch, 'And what thj • '' deil is that to thee man, can't I do what I like with mine ain ?' "To this I would have said, 'I don't presume to question your "majesty's supreme arbitrary power, for as that play-write, "Will Shakspeare, says, 'there's a divinity doth hedge a king;' "but has your highness considered who this Sir Richard ,ving­ '' field is 1 Did it ever occur to your majesty that he was many ''years the chum of Sir Walter Raleigh, whose head you were '' graciously pleased to chop off-of that Raleigh, who first "brought tobacco into your royal dominions 1 I have got your '' highness's 'Counterblast' by heart ; but as for Sir Richard "Wingfield, he learnt the villanous habit of smoking from "Raleigh, and; for what I know to the contrary, lights his pipe "with the pages of your majesty's immortal work. Sir Richard, "your highness, is a soldier, and therefore smokes, night, noon, "and n10rn1ng. Indeed, if your majesty should resolve to r-

1 I •• CXXXll PREF.A.CE.

''-bestow Feracualan upon him, I have reason to suppose-so '' addicted is he to the use of that execrable weed whose " abominable properties you have learnedly ex_posed in the "triumphant 'Counterblast'-that he will plant it there, and "encourage every man, woman, and child to use the pipe. Even '' now, your highness, 'tis no unusual thing to see old women '' whiffing volumes of unsavoury smoke out of what they ca1 l '' dudheens. This brings to my mind another of your highness's '' great works-I mean that on Witchcraft, which I have "studied with delight and instruction, but a page of which, I'd '' venture to say, Sir Richard Wingfield never read. Now, please "your majesty, give me your royal letters patent to hold Fera­ ,' cualan to me and mine for ever, and I'll make every man and '' woman-nay, and the rising youth-get the Counterblast by " heart as a daily lesson. I'll do more if you will allow me­ " I'll hang as high as Benagh-mor any and every one in whose '' mouth I catch either long pipe or dndheen. As for witches "and warlocks, I'll ·deal with them summarily as your highness '' directs.' Now, do you think the king would have refused my "petition?" "Hardly," replied the big priest; "but what woulct "you have said of his majesty's theology?" "Simply that it "was too transcendental for a mere Irishman's ken." "But," ,)bserved my old friend-once on a time the young Roman-. "wouldn't all this have been a base device unworthy a philoso­ " pher like you?" " Undoubtedly, and I have merely dwelt on "the matter to show you what flattery might have achieved. '' 'Tis quite possible that I would have snuffed out Sir Richard, "or at all events got half a shire elsewhere. Be that as might, '' I agree with my old friend, that, except the vain fool who '' gulps fulsome praise, there is no creature in existence n10re "contemptible than the flatterer. 'Twere better, says Diogenes, "' to live perpetually in a rookery of crows than among adula­ " tors.' Withal, it must be admitted that people of that sort '' have flourished and succeeded in the courts of kings at alJ '' times. V elleius Patercolus, writing of Caius, nephew of '' Augustus Cresar, has had the indecency to say that flattery is '' the sure road to fortune. 'Etenim semper magnce fortnna? ... PREFACE. CXXXlll

"comes adest adulcitio.' Nevertheless, he who flatters degrades "himself, and whosoever, says Massillon, burns such incense ''before his master, means to betray him. Princes are flattered "that they may be deceived and corrupted. Sincerity, after all, " is one of the most graceful orna1nents of the soul, and if I '' know myself rightly I have always cultivated it, and will con­ " tinue to do so. Now, you will all admit that my imaginary ':interview with king James has not been without its moral. "On the subject of 'puffery,' which is twin-sister of adulation, "we will discourse some other time. Now, gentlemen, 'tis nine "o'clock, and time to betake you to your ho1nes. You have "some distance to go." "Look,'' said the parish priest, as we were taking leave-'' look at the beautiful moonlight on '' Sitgar. Loaf, and the ruins of St. Mochonoch's oratory." '' On Benagh-mor, reverend sir ; please call it by its right name." "Be it so," he replied with his w6nt~d go~d _ht~mour ; "mind, '' you are to dine with me to-morrow." '' I hope," said I, '' your '' dinner won't be like one of those funeral breakfasts, where "people eat in silence, and look solemn as ton1bstones." "I'll '' undertake that . . . . " '' An ugly word, that iindertake; ''get some other." "Well, I pron1ise not to use that word "again till I a1n providing your last outfit, and I also promise "yon plain meats to-morrow, and some choice friends, right "cheerful fellows, each of whom will contribute his share of "Attic salt." "And you," I rejoined, " are just the man to "supply the sauce piquante-1'11 be with you-good night." I am alone ·now, said I to myself, and I'll conclude this Pre­ face or Introduction-the reader may choose whichever of the two he likes best. Come then, my pen, and before I lay you down, answer a few questions. " Are you a power?'' '' In the "hands of a blockheai, no; but in yours. " "That ''will do-I ~1nderstand." "Have you traced a single line or "sentence that you'd wish cancelled 1" "No." "Have you "dipped in gall-that ink of wicked hearts ?" "Heaven "forbid !" "You have written a book?'' "Yes." "A good uor a bad one?" "The former." "What is contained in this "volu1ne r' " Written experiences, and useful suggestions." C_XXXl'Y PREFACE.

'' What is the condition of a man who can neither read nor 'f write?" "He is easily duped by those who can do either, '~ or both." '' What are required to make a_ good author 1'' '' Imagination, taste, genius, and feeling." '' What makes a '' good writer 1" '' A perfect knowledge of the proper adapta­ " tion of words." "And is every one who knows how to "scribble, able to write a good book 1" "Go to bed, and don't '' ask foolish questions." Well, then, finis coronat opus, and all I have to add is, that this Preface or Introduction was finished in the night of that memorable day when a great statesman levelled the cancelli that for centuries stood between a Catholic and the sanctuary of the Law. Heaven forbid the O'Hagan, ever should forget that his forefathers were hereditary J usticiaries and Chancellors of Tyrone !

" Magnus ab in tegro seclorum nascitur ordo, _ • • • • • • 'ruus jam regnat Apollo." THE O'TOOLES.

LoRCHAN O'Too.r.E, Archbishop of Dublin, died in 1180. Forty­ five years afterwards he was canonized by Honorius III. Some short time, however, previous to that in which the Saint was raised to the honours of the Christian Altar,. his kins­ men were driven by Walter de Riddlesford, one of Strong­ how's knights, out of their ancient principality, called in Irish annals, Omurthie, which lay along the Barrow, northwards as . far as the hill of Allen, and comprised a goodly tract of the southern half of the present county of Kildare. The father of the glorified archbishop died lord of this territory in 1164:; and the Donegal annalists recordhis decease under that date thus :­ " Murtogh O'Toole, lord of Omurthie, and chief of Leinster in " hospitality and prowess, died after penance." If we may be-· lieve a bard of the period, who, doubtless, experienced Mur­ togh's hospitality, and had due respect for his prowess, Omurthie was a sort of Irish paradise, whose atmosphere was laden with the odours of perpetual Spring-a land teeming with yellow corn and honey, where the herds were all the year round knee-deep in rich pasture: a region irrigated by sweet, fertilizing streams, and crowned by the "festive fortress" of Mullagh Reelion, whose earthen ramparts may still be seen a few miles south of Athy. It is worth knowing that Strongbow died four years before St. Lorchan, and that t.he kinsmen of the latter were not disturbed from Omurthie till he had found an exile's grave beside the Norman princes in the Church of Eu, where his tomb was restored, some years ago, by cornn1and of King Louis Philip. Need we remind our readers that the archbishop assisted at Strongbow's obsequies, and saw his remains deposited THE o'TOOLES. in the vaults of the old Danish cathedral of the Holy Trinity 1 Ought we regret that HE, too, was not buried there-the con­ quered beside the c~nqueror ? Perhaps not ; for it is li~ely enough that his reliques would hav~ beep. treated with little respect by the apostate Archbishop Brown, who, in 1538, sacri• legiously destroyed St. Patrick's staff, and other objects of popular veneration long preserved in Christ Church. Brown, however, beastly Vandal as he was, would have only anticipated the French Calvini£ts by some thirty years; for they pillaged the Church: of Eu in 1562, carried off the shrine that held St. Lorchan's canonized bones and melted down the hanap or chalice which he took with hhn from Ireland and used at the Holy Sacrifice. Poor St. , Lorchan, living or dead, there was little rest for thy bones ! Nevertheless, his name is still held in last­ ing remembrance in the Church of Eu, while it is, if not utterly unknown, never invoked within the precincts of that old pile south of the Liffey, where, if we be not greatly mistaken, it shall yet resound when the ever-generous expansion of Irish Catholic charity shall have saved the desecrated fabric from ruin and rebuilt its altars. Reverting to the bard's description of Omurt hie, we need hardly observe that it was somewhat overcoloured ; but whe­ ther or no, Walter de Riddlesford thought it a district worth possessing ; and consequently, as he cared little for the sept to which the saint belonged, he evicted them, not by slow process of legal procedure, but by the more expeditious argument of the str.ong hand. How did de Riddlesford reconcile this to his conscience-if he had one 1 . Probably by persuacling hiinself that the clan O'Toole never could lack earthly comfort or sus­ tenancf ijince one of the1nselves had won a Ponti.fl-confessor's crown in the Kingdom of Heaven. Then again, de Riddles­ ford, as matter of course, kept a chaplain,. but not of Irish birth ; and it was that individual's business to solve his lord's doubts and regulate his moral sense. Could that chaplain have sympathised with the dispossessed O'Tooles 1 Nothing was more improbable; for he doubtless must have remembered how the saint dealt with some of his own calling and country, whom THE o'TOOLES. 5 he not only inte.rdicted, but compelled to go to Rome, not tor the purpose of visiting the Colosseu1n or such objects, but the penttentiary apostolic. Ousted from their lands lying along the Barrow, the O'Tooles were not slow in finding a district where they could plant and maintain themselves against any other de Riddlesford who might be inclined to molestthem. Glen Imale, sentinelled by its six majestic mountains, among which Lugnaquilla stood like a giant warrior panached with aged oaks, and appreciable for a considerable area of naturally good soil, was, at·the period of which we are writing, a secure fastness into which Norman cavalier had never ventured to ride. Here, then, was a desirable location for the O'Tooles, and all the more so, because Imale was connected on its eastern border with Glen-Malure, the stronghold of the O'Byrnes, who, with their neighbours, the. Cavanaghs, were then much respected, or, in other words, greatly feared .by the Anglo-Norman colony recently settled on the south bank of the Liffey. But Glen Imale was, at that time owned by the tribe of the O'Teigues, and by what right were the O'Tooles to get seizin of their lands 1 By that of the strong hand; and, consequently, as the place was worth fighting for, a battle ensued, in which the extruded of 01nurthie were declared couquerors, and the

O'Teigues were forced -to either 1nerge with the victors or seek a 1 settlement elsewhere. The right of the strong hand was bar­ barous and precarious; but when the O'Tooles found them­ selves in undisputed possession of I1nale, it 1nust have occurred to them that they were indebted to the more highly civilised Anglo-Normans for lesson and example. Having established themselves in that wild glen, the O'Tooles

lived, we may suppose, like the other Celtic tribes, hunting the 1 dun deer in their woods, angling their fishful streams and lochs, submi~ting to the laws of their Brehons, showing hos­ pitality to roving bard and seanachie, and drinking copiously flowing methers of m~theglen, for which, although it has now another name. and lacks the honey, their representatives have inherited a mn,rkcd predilection. But they did 1n0re, for a3 THE O'TOOLES. they n1ultiplied they spread themselves over the bordering Hstrict, taking in Glen-da-loch, of which St. Lorchan had oeen abbat previous to 1162, when he was consecrated Arch­ bishop of Dublin by Gelasius, papal legate. But what was the condition of that vale of the twin lakes when the clan O'Toole got seizin of it 1- Probably little better than it is at this day-a great cemetery strewn with ruins, all its glories gone, save the everlasting features of nature and the tall round tower that stands a mute, n1ysterious witness of the desolation wrought within its shadow by the Ostmen in the tenth and commencement of the eleventh century. Fierce and energetic suppressors of monasteries were those same sea-kings; but they were pagans, and we can almost afford to forgive them. Could we share this senthnent with the promoters of the so-called reformation period 1 Certainly not; for, if we did, a thousand ruined monuments, beautiful even in their decay and mutilation, would tell us that if God when creating the world had been counselled by a n1ind like Luther's He never would have set a sun or m@on in the firmament, or a flower in the field. This district, which the O'Tooles added to their lordship of !male, was anciently known as Fertire. It consisted of over fifteen thousand acres in the upland region of the present harony of Newcastle, and was subsequently erected into the manor of Castle-Kevin. But there was another tract of country ualled Feracualan, adjacent to Fertire, which had special charms for the lord of Imale, who, having an eye for the picturesque, and appreciating the goodly nature of the soil, resolved that it should thenceforth be part and parcel of his principality. Fer­ tire and I male were rugged uninviting regions, mere .mountain fastnesses ; but Feracualan was a spot beautified beyond all . describing by the hand of the Omnipotent. It stretched over an area of five miles long and four in breadth, from Barna­ cullian by. east and south of Glassamucky-brakes, to Polcallen, by west of Windgates, and contained within its limits Kilpeter, Kilcoolyn, Onagh, Ballycorty, Temple-Began, Kilgaran, Ath­ na-creeve, Ballinbrowe, Kilegar, and Monastery. Above this THE 0 7TOOL ES. 7

district stood, like uplifted spears, Beanagh-mor and Beanagh­ beg-the great and the little peaks, for so they were called till, in recent times, some unimaginative sugar-refiner nicknamed them after that staple of his craft. Singularly remarkable fea• tures are those two mountains in that loveliest of landscapes ; and with good reason did the old Irish call them " The Golden Spears ;" for when the setting sun pours his last rays on the purple heather that clothes their sides, they do present an exaggerated _resemblance to those burnished weapons which the Celts used in their warfare. But the chiefest and 1nost exqui­ site of its attrac~ions was, and ever more shall be, that delightful ravine whose primitive appellation has,happily, escaped debase­ ment, and is still preserved in the Celtic word "Dargle"-glen of oaks. Ah, but he was a proud man, that lord of Imale, Fer­ tire, and Feracualan, when first he thrid his way down the bosky slopes which overhang that sweetest of dells! what contrasts and novel beauties revealed themselves to him at every step ! J\'Iasses of jagged rock, in whose crevices the forest king had strllck his gnarled roots, now flooded with sunlight or glowing with richest tints ; gloom and verdure sweetly commingled ; fen1 and wild-flower in all their varieties and native luxuriance! But, how must he have felt as he gazed at the graceful cataract leaping from crag to crag, diffusing freshness all around, and then flashing over its rocky bed towards the mighty ocean ! Beautiful, indeed, are the falls of V elino and of Tivoli ; but if Horace had seen The Dargle, would he have wished to wear out the residue of his days within sound of the precipitous A.nio 1 But did the O'Toole get possession of Feracualan peacefully 1 If we may credit ancient annals he did not; but on the contrary, he compelled a tribe called " O'Cosgraigh," which, from time immemorial had inhabited the fore st region of Glen-cree, and the loamy lands lying north and south of K.ilgaran, to merge their individuality in his own sept, and thenceforth live in subjection to him. The· record of this fact is indeed very meagre, but there is sufficient evidence to show that the O'Cosgraighs, whose fore­ fathers may have worshipped round the Cromleach, which still crowns the verdant height of Park-na-Sillagh either adopted the 8 THE O'TOOLES.

tribe name of their conquerors or sought settlement elsewhere. Be this as it may, there can be no question that the O'Toole, within less than a quarter of century, since the the death of St. Lorchan held undisputed possession of Feracualan, and justly re­ garded it as the choicest appanage of his. principality. It would, indeed, be difficult to suppose that he may not occa­ sionally have chafed when thinking that de Riddlesford held the rich level lands of Omurthie from which he and his had been wantonly evicted. But surely he must have felt that he was more than compensated by his latest conquest. Stand­ ing within the shadow of that mysterious cromleach-tmnb of primitive warrior or rude sacrificial altar, whichever it may have been-what a, splendid panorama lay spread out before him! In thefarness the glorious sea, on his right the "Golden Spears," on his left those huge masses of rock upheaved, as it 1 were, by some terrible convulsion of the infant world, which the lj Celts called Skellegs-the etymon of Scalp ; and beneath hin1, as / he looked down wards, primeval forests, glades musical with the ! voices of many waters, a chain of raths standing out against the 1 clear blue sky, and in close proximity to each other, thickets where the red deer had abundant covert, and verdant fields· where countless herds could pasture, or the tiller of the soil might reap . the golden grain without much sweat of brow. And, to enhance the loveliness of the landscape, or, perhaps, we should rather say, to consecrate it, at either side of hin1 were ancient oratories, almost c@eval with the first preaching of Christianity in Ireland­ rude structures, it is true, but hallowed by her1nit and sage, who could find nowhere else spots 1nore sequestered or better suited for a life of contemplation. Almost within sight of that immense bald rock said to have been the dwelling place ofOllagher, one of the Ossianic heroes, stood the cell or oratory of Egar, of whose life, unhappily, we have no record ; and a short dis­ tance thence, Cill-Ternan, or, according to the ancient Martyr- . i ologies, Cill-Ternog, subsequently mentioned (circa. 1291) in

the Ecclesiastical Taxation of benefices in the See of Dublin, as 1 the chapel of some monastic or appropriate district. But the most venerable of those sacred edifices was "Cill-lVIochonoc, '~ or Cell of THE o'TOOLES. 9

St. Mochonoc, whose feast, according to the Martyrology of Donegal, used to be kept on the 18th December. Little is known of this Saint, who; it is said, came from Wales, if not during our Apostle's life-time, soon after his death, and built for himself a her­ mitage in the tranquil spot where his niemory is now all but forgotten. His nan1e, however, although debased, is still preserved in .the modern Kilmacanick, which a fanciful cre­ dulity as distinct from faith as the north pole is from the south, would have us believe means '' Ohnrch of the Virgin's Son.,, Nothing could be more false than this arbitrary interpreta­ tion of the word, for along with the Donegal Calendar we have the authority of the "Crede Mihi," and the '' Repertorimn Viride," both pre-Reformation monuments, to show that the correct orthography is Cill-Mochonoc, and that the Saint flourished and was venerated here ages before an O'Toole owned a single acre in Feracualan. Besides those three pri1nitive structures, there were many others' of the same character, of which, however, hardly a single vestige now exists. Their names, however, show that the ancient Irish dedicated churches to the saints ; and we would fain take credit to ourselves for having re- '"' stored one of the earliest of them to the ivied walls within which he lived, and died. We may also add, that in dwelling., perhaps, too prolixly on this topic, our object, has been to prove that this picturesque region, what time O'Toole first got posses~ sion of it, was neither rude nor barbarous, but quite the contrary; for wherever a Christian altar stands, there, too, is civilisation., be the same advanced or retarded. And now that he had made himself lord of that beautifully diversified territory stretching fr01n Glen-Imale to the strand of breezy Bray, can we suppose that The O'Toole regretted either for himself or his posterity, the loss of his ancient patrimony lying along the Barrow 1 Assuredly not ; for he must have felt tlrn,t among those n1ounta.ins he had found a home from which it

· i would be difficult, if not impossible, to expel him. In the low lands once owned by his fathers he wonld have been little better than a nomad ; for it is notorious that the inhabitants of exten- si.ve plains belong to that caste and are never over nnwh attacheJ I1 . t

K 10 THE O'TOOLES.

to them. Better soil, indeed, may be had in the latter, but they lack those features without which it is impossible to love them, their good qualities notwithstanding. Let an army lay waste a tame, :flat district, and burn down its wolds and thatched dwel­ lings, what remains to the peasant of his local coiintry; or will he find in the unbroken line of the horizon a single object to remind him of it ? Does not every point of space present to him the same uniform aspect and the same interest 1 But it is not so with the mountaineer, for he discovers in the palpable and indestructible forms which meet hin1 at every point of view a physiognomy of which he grows enamoured, even from his infancy. The graceful outline of the hills, the shady glens, the music of the stream murmuring through verdant meadows, the crash of the cataract falling down the sheer sides of the cliff, the path that winds round some huge block of granite to his habitation­ all these and more are graven on his memory, haunt him in his drean1s-become, as it were, a part of his individuality, and , never can be effaced. In fact, the man who drew his first breath and lived to maturity in a mountain country, will never grow attached to the localities or monuments of a city, however grand or ancient they may be ; and if we ask him to account for this peculiarity, he will tell us that the mighty wonders of nature have impressed themselves more vividly and lastingly on his re­ membrance, and are dearer to his affections than the sub­ limest works of man's genius ever could be. This is a sentimen.t '' ever old a11d ever new ;" the Psahnist felt and confessed its spell on the summit of Zion, and our own bards found their sweetest inspiration among the shadows of the everlast­ ing hills. But the lands comprised in Imale, Fertire, and Fe­ ra.cualan were destined to be not only the home of the O'Toole, but the conntry of his children's children in the strictest signi­ fication of the word. A love of the entire territory was to be per­ petuated from father to son, not alone by local associations, and reciprocities which were a consequence of their partial isola­ tion, but by the far more potent influences of those ancient laws, language, and usages to which they clung with undeviating fidelity for more bhan fh·e centuries, despite the efforts of eight• rnE o'TOOLES. 11

teen English mona.rchs, who left nothing untried to accomplisb their abolition. Wise nature, like things, joins with like, just as the sturdy oak strikes firmest root in the clefts of the preci­ pice. Is it not equally ren1arkable that the spirit of liberty and independence has ever found its most congenial dwelling-place amid mountain ranges, whether in this island or in the country of the Swiss 1 The description we have endeavoured to give of the region which shall henceforth be n1entioned as the O'Toole country will, it is hoped, enable the reader to form a pretty accurate notion of its limits and boundaries. We may also observe that its northern frontier was well protected agaiB.st the inroads of the A.nglo­ N orman colonists who had begun to settle on the south bank of the Liffey, and who, if disposed to push their conquest farther in that direction; must have cautiously calculated the difficulties they should have to encounter in crossing either the chain of the ' county Dublin hills or those that lay incloser proxmity to Fera­ cualan. Indeed, it was not till after the lapse of many centuries that the English were able to surmount those natural obstacles which, so long as they continued to be such, not only inter­ rupted all friendly relations between the native Irish and their invaders, but caused them to regard each other as implacable enemies. To the Anglo-Norman colonists of the twelfth century, the O'Tooles and the O'Byrnes were veritable Ultramontanes, but in a sense far more formidable than any that can now attach to the very vague vocable, which has recently baffled the analysis of one of her Majesty's Irish judges. Nevertheless, it has been asserted, on what sufficient authority we know not, that Miles de Cogan, one of Strongbow's followers, did make his way into the region of Feracualan, and, enraptured with the beauty of its scenery, thought it would be a fair don1ain for hi1n and his, provided he could keep fast hold of it. By him, if we are rightly informed, it was given as a dowry to his daughter, who married one of his captains named De la Poer or "Le Pauvre," a beggarly adventurer, whose only prospect was brigandage. He, we are told, built a castle there and called it Powerscourt; but despite persevering inquiry in all likely quar- tl_ 12 THE O'TOOLES, ters, we have not discovered any further trace of this fact. Taking the story for what it is worth, we may be permitted tool• serve that the n1arriage settlement was a very precarious one, for the Dargle and all the other lovely features of the landscape not­ withstanding, De la Poer and his bride m"Qst have had but a poor life of it there, surrounded as they were by those fierce O'Byrnes, O'Tooles, and Cavanaghs, whom they hated as bar­ barians, but who returned their hatred with a vengeance. That Dela Poer did not find it convenient to live any considerable time inthestronghold which, after.the custom of the Anglo-Normans, he erected, is certain ; nor have we any reason to suppose that rain or storm had dimmed the freshness of its polished stones before it fell into the hands of the O'Toole, lord of Imale, Fertire, and Feracnalan, who, doubtless, must have felt more than grateful for such a, mansion in such a spot.

PART II.

WHILE my ancestors were consolidating themselves in the new land of their adoption, and taking precautions against any attempt that n1ight be made to drive them out of it, the in.. vaders were actively engaged fortifying Waterford, Wexford, Drogheda, and some other towns, of which they contrived to get possession. Dublin, however, was their chiefest stronghold ; aud along with a colony fro1n Bristol, they brought thither John Comyn, a native of England, and favourite of Henry II., who, in 1181, was consecrated archbishop of the metropolitan iee, which had been governed by St. Lorchan for a period of eighteen years. Comyn was the first Englishman who held this in1portant position, and among the prelates who succeeded him by favoiir of the Crown we cannot name one of Irish blood. It is, how­ ever, consolatory to know that Brown and Curwin, who, in the sixteenth century, became schismatics, and strove to detach tho THE o'TOOLES, 13

Irish from the holy see, were Englishnrnn, and favourites of IIenry VIII., although the latter owed his appointment to Queen Mary, in 1555. Comyn did not rnake his appearance in Dublin till 1184, when, on taking possession of the see, he was constituted a Parliamentary baron, qualified to sit in the councils of the growing colony,_ and to hold courts in " their lordships and manors." One of his first works was to repair and enlarge the choir of the Church of the Holy Trinity, built by Donogh, bishop of the Irish and D.anes of Dublin in 1038. But the most men1orable of all his acts is the erection of St. Patrick's cathedral, in 1191, when he, O'Connor, archbishop of Armagh, and O'Heaney, papal legate, went in procession from the cathedral of the Holy Trinity and dedi­ cated the new edifice to God, our blessed Lady, and St. Patrick. A year after Con1yn's installation, prince John, son of Henry II., at the head of a large body of troops, and accom­ panied by a brilliant retinue of ecclesiastics and lawyers, landed at Waterford, where he was coldly received by the natives, many of whose chiefs, after being grossly insulted by his followers, retired to their fastnesses and resolved if possible to expel them. John's enterprise was most unsuccessful, and after a sojourn of some seven or eight months, he had to with­ draw without obtaining tribute or hostage from the Irish nobles. In the suite of the prince was the archdeacon Giraud de Barri, better known as Giraldus Cambrensis, who,duringthis ill-starred expedition, collected the matter which he subsequently pub­ lished in his "Topographia Hiberniae," and Hibernia Expugnata." A very distinguished scholar, although somewhat garrulous and egotistic, was this archdeacon; and my reason for introdu­ cing his name is that he has not done sufficient justice to the memory of St. Lorchan, whom he mentions with faint praise as '' vir bonus" or goodman-a eulogy which he might have safely bestowed on n1any another nowise remarkable for those charac­ teristics which distinguished the patron saint of the O'Tooles. Sparing, however, as Giraud was of encomium in this instance, it is but fair to state that in his famous sermon preached in Christ Church, before archbishop Comyn and Felix O'Dun- 14 THE 0 7TOOLES. nally, bishop of Ossory, he has left us an admirable picture of the moral excellence of the native Irish priesthood, which con­ trasts strongly with that he has drawn of the Welch clergy in his book, '' De Menevensis Ecclesire Statu." The Irish priests, he tells us, were exemplars of chastity, punctual in performing their divine offices, but over-much given to conviviality when the night set in. As for their bishops, the self-sufficient arch­ deacon regrets that they were not selected out of the body of the working clergy, but monasteries, where they made little acquaintance with every-day life of the outer world, and the re­ quirements of their flocks. To this he attributes the turbulence of the Irish in his day, and their reluctance to submit them­ selves and their fortunes to the rule of the vicious prince John and his equally vicious father. But was this archidiaconal superciliousness unreprimanded ? Let us hear Giraud hin1self : "Next evening, when the bishop of Ossory was supping with the archbishop, the latter said, ''My lord, what did you think of the sermon?'' "Some of it," replied Ossory, "was qom1nen­ dable enough, but there were passages downright bad ; and I declare to your grace that I could hardly refrain from flying at him, and answering hin1 to his beard." May the Lord rest your soul, brave bishop·Felix ! Were I thy successor, or even parish priest of K.nocktopher, your tomb would not be suffered to moulder, neglected and grassgrown, among the ruins of that once splendid Jerpoint which Donald, prince of Ossory, erected in honour 0f ever-blessed Mary. And as I 111ay not have occasion to niention him again, I will here thank Giraud's shade for the pleasure which his books have given me. Ah ! but that archdeacon could think and write and fascinate his readers! vVitness it those pages in which he describes his journeys to Rome, his fa111iliarity and jokes with Innocent III.; his hopes and thwarted ambition-for he would fain be a bishop ; but, above all, that most singular of his works, the " Gemma Ecclesiastica," which so charmed the Pontiff with its quaint anecdotes and the vivid pictures it set before hin1 0f Welch and English society at the commencement of the ~welfth century. Others 1night testify their lealty by offer- I THE o'TOOLES. 15

ing gold and silver in the Vatican ; but HIS offering-libri non librae-coinage not of the mint, but of intellect, was more than money which any rich man could present. Verily, Giraud was "am-an among men," biographer, poet, and ascetic-writer; one who could talk against ti1ne on all conceivable subjects without being tires01ne, drivelling, or inane. Archdeacon of St. David's, fare thee well ! I will not presume to describe witl1 what feelings the O'Tooles regarded Archbishop Comyn, or the stately cathedral he erected on the spot where St. Patrick, it is said, baptized the people of Ath-Cliath-the Celtic name of the metropolis. Its bell-tower however, must have been a fa1niliar object to them in their hunt­ ing excursions over the neighbouring mountains ; and, we may suppose that they often contemplated its graceful proportions from the summit of l(ippure, which lifts its brown head ma- 1 jestically above all the hills in that r01nantic district. Neither will I venture to say how they 1nust have felt when it was re­ ported t~> them that a writ had been issued to the baronial arch­ bishop for building a strong stone castle on the high ground hard by the old Cathearal of the Holy Trinity. Such facts, however, were very suggestive ; and the O'Tooles conse­ quently prepared themselves for emergencies which they must have known were inevitable. The rude weapons of the period, pike and pole-axe, could be easily forged in the mountains; and as for the bow, they had yews enough on every hillside from Fassaroe to Glendaloch. Bitter men1ories of wrongs inflicted on them by Strongbow's followers, and well­ founded apprehensions of the hostility with which the colonists of Dublin regarded the sept, prompted them not only to stand on their guard, but to be ready at any favourable moment to swcop down on the low grounds south of the Liffey. If it be asked, were there not religious influences to counteract senti­ ments of this sort which originated in vindictiveness, I can only say that, however much the O'Tooles reverenced archbishop Comyn's dignity, he 1nust have felt himself utterly powerless to reconcile the mountaineers to that portion of his flock which had nothing in cornn1on with them but the same faith ; while r 16

locality, language, and usages, singularly peculiar and primitive, helped to con:firin estrangement, and mutual antipathies of the · most enduring character. It is very unlikely, indeed, that any 1 of the archbishop's clergy ever risked his personal liberty among the hills of Fertire or Feracualan; for what good could his preaching be to a people whose language he did not un­ derstand or care to learn? Furthermore, Comyn was not their chief pastor, for there can be no doubt that the last canonically instituted bishop of Glendaloch did not die till 1214 (two years after Comyn's decease), when the union of the two dioceses was established by papal and regal authority. This fact notwithstanding, it would appear, says Ware, that many bishops (Celtic, of course) held the see of Glendaloch either by usurpation or papal promotion long after the foresaid period, who were supported by the clans of that country not yet amenable to English law. Wadding, says the same learned authority, states that Ivo Russi (probably a latinized or italian­ ized form of an Irish name) was advanced to this see in N ovem­ ber, 1494 ; and that on his death, the next year, one John, a Franciscan, was promoted to it by the sa1ne Pope. The last bishop who, we are told, held Glendaloch by 'ltsiirpation was a friar named Denis White, who surrendered his right (such as it was) in May, 1497, to archbishop Fitz-Simons, whose suc­ cessors have ever since governed this See without interrup­ tion. In 1204, during Archbishop Comyn's adminstration, Dublin was visited by pestilence, which thinned the new settlers con­ siderably. In consequence the metropolis was recrnited by ano­ ther colony from Bristol and Chester, to the great disgust of the O'Tooles and other mountain septs who, perhaps, supposed that the English regarded the bank of the Liffey as any thing but a desirable location. Such, however, was not the fact, for in about five years the adventurers grew so prosperous, that the Chesterians erected in the heart of the city a church in honour of St. Werburgh, their patron. .It was at this period that, to use a homely phrase, the O'Tooles and O'Byrnes began to stir theinselves. South-east of the city THE O'TOOLES. 17 lay an extensive wood, the name of which still survives, whither the colonists were wont to betake themseves for pastin1e on Easter Monday. The O'Tooles, deeming this a good opportunity for n1aking reprisals, came down from their hills, lay in wait for the merry-1nakers, and slew, if we may credit Hann1er, some three hundred of the chiefest of the1n. Many of the survivors, men, women, and children, were carried off as hostages to the mountains ; and the anniversary of that most dismal raid was for centuries afterwards remembered as Black Monday by the Mayor and citizens, who, Hanmer tells us, '' observed it with feast and banquet, and pitching up of tents '' in that place, daring the Irish enemy, upon his peril, not to be '' so hardy as once to approach near the feasting place." The scene of this slaughter is now known as the Bloody Fields ; and it may be worth 1nentioning that Jones, Cromwell's lieutenant, defeated the Irish under Lord Ormond on the same ground, in 1649. The prisoners taken by the O'Tooles were ransomed by their friends at a heavy price; and there can hardly be a doubt that this composition was the origin of the "black rent or mail," which theformercontinued to levy off the burghers of Dublin, from 1209 till late in the reign of Henry VIII. Archbishop Comyn died in 1212, and about the beginning of the following year was succeeded by Henry the Londoner, who is said to have built the Castle of Dublin. It was during this prelate's administration that Saint Lorchan was canonized, and that Shankill ceased to be the northern limit of the ancient diocese of Glendaloch. In 1228 Henry was succeeded by Luke, whose promotion to the archiepis­ copal see was advanced by de Burgh, Earl of Kent, whose chap­ lain he was. It would appear that this archbishop felled some forests in the county of Wicklow, fro1n which we infer, that his juris­ diction must have been acknowledged there on his accession. Ten years afterwards the Franciscans erected their first convent in the city of Dublin; and about the san1e period the O'Tooles and O'Byrnes founded another house of the same order in a shady spot hard by the town of Wicklow, for the good estate of their own and posterity's souls. This fact is especially wodh 18 THE O'TOOLES. remembering, for it is a proof that no matter how English pre­ judices might misrepresent them, tho:te hardy mountaineers had a keen perception and appreciation of art in some of its finest details. The coloriists 1nay have been justified in styling them the "Irish enemy," but assuredly the founders of religious houses did not deserve to be called either" rude or barbarous," epithets bestowed on the1n by the poet Spenser and others, in times much nearer to our own. This convent, whose ruins may still be seen, was the school in which the chiefs of the O'Tooles and O'Byrnes were for many generations educated by the Franciscan friars, who also diffused the blessings of k;10wledge far and near throughout the sur­ rounding districts. .As n1ay be supposed, these good fathers were very conservative of the ancient usages and language, for which the English clergy of Archbishop Luke and his successors had very little respect. Besides, many an O'Toole and O'Byrne took the cowl in those cloisters ; and I need hardly say that the Franciscans, as was their wont, wrote chronicles and strove to perpetuate in goodly tomes the warlike achievements of their benefactors, as well as the most remarkable incidents in the Ii ves of their descendents. Those records, however, have all perished ; and we may attribute their destruction not only to the first preachers of the so-called Reformation, but especially to the barbarity of Sir Charles Coote, who, in the seventeenth century, burnt the town of Wicklow and enjoyed the hellish luxury of seeing Irish infants writhing on his soldiers' halberts. I have been particular in recording the date of the foundation of the Franciscan House because it was about that period, as well as I have been able to ascertain, that the chief of the ()'Tooles, seeing the sept greatly increased in numbers-(they lwve ever been a prolific race)-and knowing that his dissolution was nigh, took counsel with his Brehons, perhaps on s01ne of those old raths that still exist in the region of Feracualan, and ..:ccided that the entire principality should be divided between his three sons. To the youngest he bequeathed Imale, because of t:1e boy's tender years, and because the district was almost in­ accessible to the English marauders. Fertire, in which Castle- THE O'TOOLES. 19

Kevin was subsequently built, fell to the second eldest ; while Feracualan, with the stronghold said to have been raised by "le Pauvre," was devised to the eldest, as the best qualified by valour and experience to maintain himself and followers there against the incursions of the '' strangers," who, towards the close of the reign of the first John, styled "Lord of Ire­ land," (for whom my illustrious ancestor didn't care the twang­ ing of a bow-string,) had begun to raise a chain of square stone fortalices in what they called the "marches," to prevent the O'Tooles from lifting "black mail" off the Dublin churls. They often had good reason to thank archbishop Henry for the shelter he provided them in the strong castle he built there. Were it my business to moralise on this testamentary act of the O'Toole and his Brehons, I think I could shew that it was un­ wise and iinpolitic. The subdivision of power has ever been the subdivision of tyranny, and has invariably involved an inextri­ cable tangle of conflicting interests, animosities, and rivalries. Reverence for his memory, however, forbids all criticism on that last solemn arrangement, which in due time developed conse­ quences which he never could have foreseen. At last, worn down by years, not infirmities, the good old chief gave up the ghost as a Christian ought, piously and con­ tentedly, with shrift and unction. More fortunate than many of his descendents, he died on his bed; and indeed this is note­ worthy, for, like the O'Rourke whose decease has been re­ corded by · the Four Masters, " it was not expected that he "should pass away on a soft couch, but by the sword or the "spear." His disappearance fro1n this world lifted a heavy load off the hearts of the colonists of Dublin ; but his kinsmen and followers bewailed him long and sincerely among the hills and glens of Feracualan. Sad and solemn was the procession that accompanied his remains to Glenda]och, on whose sou­ thern shore they hollowed his grave beneath that historic flag­ stone which, ·up to a few years ago, marked the last resting place of an earlier prince of the Clan O'Toole. 20 THE 0 7TOOLES.

PART III.

A FEW days ago, after musing for an hour with a learned priest among the ruins. of Mochonoc's cell, and refreshing ourselves with a draught from the cool spring that doubtless supplied the Saint's wholesome beverage, we turned our steps to that picturesque avenue of yews which is situated in its in1- mediate vicinity. Beautiful objects they are, of great antiquity as their girth shows ; and I bless the lucky chance that has pre­ served them against the woodman's axe. What dendrologist will tell us their age without hewing or hacking them 1 But, curious as I am on this subject, I would not have my wish gra­ tified by lopping off a single bough or allowing saw to touch even one of their trunks. How eould I when I reflect that whole generations of the O'Tooles, in childhood and old age, have been fatniliar with those patriarchs of the forest when Feracualan was theirs, and in after times when confiscation­ often the synonym of robbery-deprived then1 of their own? The art of resolving things into their component parts is, doubt­ less, a great aid to science ; but, for myself, I have always detested that cunning 1nanipulation which, in order to ascertain the nature of a flower, must necessarily destroy its beauty and annihilate its perfume. Long may you stand, 0 venerable trees, of Cill-Mochonoc, and may you continue to flourish till your circumference excels that of the hoariest of Lebanon's cedars! As my companion and I lingered to admire the graceful form of those yews whose knotted arms seemed stretching out to in­ tercluster with each other, we could not help reniembering that the earliest masters of Gothic architecture must have received their first inspirations in some spot like this ; and that the long­ drawn aisle, with its solemn shadows and intersection of circular arches, had its prototype amid the woods, and was nothing more than a transfiguration in stone of some avenue like that we were pacing. Ah, how suggestive is Nature ; and how immeasurably short of God's works are those of man! Revery, son1e one has THE O'TOOLES. 21 wisely said, is the sweetest, the faithfullest, and the most de­ light£ ul friend-the only one that can cause time to vanish; and I know not how long I 1night have indulged it had not my companion told 1ne that in my former papers I ne­ glected mentioning the Celtic appellation by which the region now called Wicklow was known in the early ages of our history and among the native Irish generally till it was reduced to shire­ ground at the commencement of the seventeenth century. This, indeed, was an almost inexcusable inadvertency; for, apart from my desire-however strange it may appear to some-to use any word that may have often lain on the lips and sounded 1 in the ears of my ancestors, I would hold 1nyself culpable were I to keep such an item of information from my readers, the Clan O'Toole especially. Turning then to some ancient scrolls, to 1ne n1ore valuable a thousand times than the husks of modern novels which to many in our day are what the bread and Circus were to the heathen Romans, I find that the hilly dis­ trict in question was calledCill-Mantain, fron1aSai.ntof thatname who was one of our apostle's conte1nporaries and familiars. He, it appears, built himself a Cill or oratory probably on the spot where the Franciscan church of which we have already spoken was snb­ seq_uently erected. A strange prophecy is said to have been spoken by blessed Patrick regarding the vicissitudes of Man­ t:tin's edifice, namely, that rank weeds should grow within its chancel, and that in lapse of ages sheep and swine should depasture there ! A poor father of Saint Francis' order-poor in this world's goods, but opnlentin knowledge-Colgan to wit­ visited the place in the seventeenth century, and states that with his own eyes he saw the prediction litern.lly realised. If I may he permitted to add my own observation, I can assert that Ihave seen even worse than Colgan saw in that snime place-intolerance and bigotry in their most repulsive personations; but I refrain from siying more, because these twin-de1nonsare now under pro­ cess of '' casting out" by Parlia1nentary exorcism. Well, Mantain died about the n1iddle of the £fth century, and the Irish Martyrologies fix his feast on the second of March, the day of his death, or, if you will, the birth-day of his im1nortality. 22 THE O'TOOLES.

The word Wicklow is but another form of '' Wigginge-Loiigh," that is, Ship-lough, a Scandinavian compound ; for those pirates often moored their galleys there in the eighth, tenth, and eleventh centuries, when they came to anticipate the Re­ formation ruffians in spoiling the temples of God and laying waste the monasteries. With this digression, which, after all, n1ay not be wholly such, I now return to the O'Tooles. Within the last quarter of a century the Irish people have 1nade 1narvellous intellectual progress ; so much so that '' the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe." And this observation applies not only to their at'tain­ nients in general k~owleclge, but also to the lessons they have learnt concerning the usages of their forefathers long before this island became absorbed into the British Empire. History, poetry-including even street ballads-essays, and lectures on subjects of national interest have all tended to inform the Irish n1i11d and stimulate its honest aspirations. Give an Irish pea­ sant his choice of a thousand volumes and he will prefer that which relates to the land of his nativity and tells how his fore­ fathers struggled for centuries against oppression, despite the great arma1nents and subtle polity of one of the mightiest king­ doms this world has ever seen. Need I say that this feeling pervades the 1nasses of our people in every clime to which they have been compelled to flee? If there be any one obtuse enough to doubt it, let him reflect that every good book bearing on Irish nationality published here is almost simultaneously reproduced by the American press and rapidly bought up by the Irish immi­ grant, who, as it were, finds his country once 111ore in those frag­ ments of its literature. Shallow thinkers n1ay affect to set little 'value on this fact, but it is, nevertheless, one of iin1nense sug­ 'gesti veness. Seafa~d here on this grand olclRath that stands so proudly above Fassaroe, and catching the murmurs of the riverw~fted lip from the ravine at its base, I have almost unconsciously fa.Hen into this meditative n1ood, while considering whether I ought to describe the ceremonial invariably perforrnecl whenever the O'Toole was inaugurated chief of his name and sept. This,

--~•-·------.... -- - ...... -· ' THE O~TOOtES. 23

however, is not necessary, for Davis' beautiful poem on that subject, narrates all about it faithfully. and circumstantially. The rubric regulating the inauguration of an O'Neill, at which O'Hagan al ways acted as one of the grandest functionaries, was tbe same that regulated that or the O'Toole who, as we shall se~ hereafter, is always mentioned in the State Papers as residing at Powerscourt. Many have sneered at this primitive ceremonial, but, nevertheless, I find in the account of the coronation of .the King of Hungary, at Pesth, in 1867, some of the usages of ou1 forefathers brought out prominently. I must confess, however, that I have not been able to discover where the inauguration of the O'foole used to take pfo,ce, or who his chief officers were on that occasion. Further development of our historical resources 1nay yet identify the locality which even O'Donovan was not n.ble to ascertain. The two brothers who shared Fertire and Imale between them were sin1ply lieutenants of the head of the sept, or, in Irisl1 phrase, his "Uriaghts," that is, subordinate chiefs. To him they o\ved sundry duties, a few of which we deem it necessary to mention. They were bound to follow their lord in all his mar­ tial expeditions, without once questioning whether he had wrong or right on his side; and they were furthermore obliged to enter­ tain him and his retinue of armed followers whenever he went amongst the1n. This patriarchal custon1 frequently proscribed by Acts of Parliament, was called "coshering ;" and, I grieve to say, that it is now obsolete. "SpE}nd 1ne, but defend me," was then the orclerof the day, but in our times the lattetpart of the compact has, in many instances, been supplanted by another word which I need not write. In return for such homage, the chief re­ lieved his subordinate lords and sept generally from the labour of n1ental exertion, such as thinking or balancing the merits or demerits of any subject that was calculated to provoke hostilities or invite friendships. Both committed tha;t exercise to h·irn, and accepted his decision with alacrity and obedience. This mutual reliance and familiar in­ tercourse rendered the rela.tions between the chief and a.11 the members of his sept kindly; nu.y cordial and enduring. He r:=..:...::=:======:a:;:;=~ 24 THE O'TOOLES.

1night visit them at stated f)eriods whenever he liked and their means would allow, but he had no power to evict them from their homesteads, or' reduce them to beggary. · Brehon law was stringent in this particular and protected the tenant against cruel and arbitrary exactions. Neither should I omit mention­ ing that whenever a son was born to the chief the wealthiest and bravest of the sept claimed the honor of fostering the child who might one day succeed his father, provided he was strong, lithe of limb, proficient in military science, and exempt fron1 imbeci­ lity, that is to say blockheadedness. The foregoing observa­ tions sufficiently explain the status of the lords of Fertire, and _Imale as contrasted with that of the chief who we have already said is always I?li}ntioned in the correspondence of the English 1 Viceroys as the O'Toole of Powerscourt. Three generations of the O'Tooles had passed away since the death of the old chief who led the raid on the citizens of Dublin iu the time of archbishop de Lundres. During that interval two kings, John and Henry III., did everything in their power to exasperate the Irish, and nothing to recon­ cile them to their polity. Among the many tyrannical acts of the former we may specify his order forbidding the admission of any native Irishman to cathedral preferment in Ireland. Nor was the succeeding monarch, Ed ward the First, less hostile to the native race, for when, in reply to the charge of having set the septs at war· with each other, his Viceroy, Ufford, remarked, ·u that he thought it expedient to wink at one knave cutting off another," he expressed himself highly satisfied, and bade hiin return to Ireland." Two septs, however, it would appear, took it into their heads to act in a manner quite opposed to this wily statecraft. These were the O'Byrnes and the O'T0oles; and it is worth remarking that they are never represented as waging war against each other. In the North the O'Neills and O'Donnells were, from time to time, at deadly feud, but the septs of the Wicklow mountains made common cause against the English, who1n th@y continued to worry for many an age down to the seventeenth century. During the reign of Edward II. the united clans wera very actively engn.gc~d agniinst the forces of ;======-===--======-=--7:;"r I - i THE o'TOOLE~ 2;)

that 1nonarch. In 1312 they came down like a torrent from their hills and glens, and swept the colonists before them from Sag­ gard and Rathcoole, "striking terror," says Harris, " into the ' citizens of Dublin, as well by their numbers as their policies, in laying ambushes up and down the woods on the south side of the ' city." The arrival of Edward Bruce at Ca,rrickfergus, in 1315, afforded another favourable opportunity for making a dash at the 1netropolis, an'd the citizens were only too glad to pay the clan a large sum for_ keeping their hands off them and their property. The object of these visits, doubtless, was to levy the'' black rent or mail," which,_ as we have already said; the colonists agreed to pay after the first raid in 1209. Emboldened by such successes we find the O'Tooles once again laying am 1:>uscades in the '' Bloody Fields," where they were met by a large body of the Dubliners, led by William Comyn, who had the bl:=ick banner bol'ne before him. On this occasion the O'Tooles had the worst of it, for some seventeen of them were slain, and many grievously wounded. This event occurred in 1316, while Bruce was en~ camped at Castle~Knock. Harris, from whom we quote, says, that the Christian na1ne of the O'Toole who commanded the sept was David, and leaves us to infer that he did not fall into the hands of his enen1ies. Occasional rubs of this sort, doubtless, made the mountaineers u10re wary, but did not bate a tittle of their hatred of the '' strangers." Eleven years after the defeat one Adan1 O'Toole was tried and convicted in Dublin for having uttered words so extravagantly impious, that we in­ cline to think he must have been a raging lunatic. The minutes of his trial. have not con1e down to ns, but nothing can be more horrible than his indictment. He was sentenced and burnt at the stake in College·-green. Strange and revolting death for one whose name was sointimatelyassociatecl with the Christian altar! This shocking spectacle was witnessed by the colonists of Dublin in the fl.rat regnal year of Ed ward III., and precisely eleven years after the promotion of Alexa.nder de Bicknor, an Englishmau, to the archiepiscopal see of the me-tropolis. Heresy, it see1n::;, was at that time rife in sonie of the towns where the English had got a footing-in Kilkenny and Dublin. In the former,

l., 26 THE O'TOOLES.

one Alice Kettle was tried for witchcraft, and uttering s~rm.e ex- . traordinary. paradoxes ; and in the latter the mayor was ap­ pointed one of the judges commissioned to try Roger Outlaw, prior of Kilmainham, who was accused of heresy .. by. L·e.dred, . another Englishman, bishop of Oss.ory. · The execution·s· 'Yere: followed by, famine, and the Viceroy~ Sir Anthony', Lucy, with. · his suite, had to fish the Dodder for their daily ·subsis·bence. · Nevertheless archbishop de Bicknor managed to erect a strong stone castle at Tallagh ; which he intended as a summer resi­ dence for himself and his successors. It was a very grand edi­ fice, half monastic, half baronial, and stood close to 0th.er build­ ings of the same sort, such as Drimnagh, and Tin1mon,' which were meant to check the incusions of the 1nountaineers, to whom they must have been a sad eyesore. The archbishop's ·bawns were well stored with long and short horns, • and his. sheep had rich pasture on the banks of the Dod~er from Rathfani~am to Templeogue. Surely this was a temptation which the clan O'Toole could not overmaster, as they had already Suffered from . . : famine. Down they came from their hills with s:parthe~ skein and bow, forced their way into the archbishop's mansion, slew some of his servitors, and then drove off three hundred of his_best wethers in the direction of Feracualan. As soon as this outrage was made known in Dublin, Sir Philip Brett, with a large force of the citizens, hastened out to take vengeance . on the perpe- . trators ; but the latter turned on their pursuers and defeated them in a pitched battle. This occurred in 1331, ·and thence£ orth we are told '' watch and ward were constantly kept in the· castle of . Tallagh to prevent a repetition of s-g.ch unwelcome vistations." But these precautions, notwithstanding, the O'Tooles continued to be a terror to the English border, for in 1356 Sir Tho~as Rokeby, then Viceroy, entered into a con1pact with one of the clan, whereby the latter, with forty horsemen and forty armed foot, undertook to def end the English '' marches" from Tallagh to Wind-Gates against the incursions of his countrymen. Edward III.'s power, indeed, must have been little heeded in the Wicklow mountains when his deputy was forced to capitu­ late with the O'Toole of Powerscourt. Fourteen years after- THF. o'TOOLES. 27 wards, that is in 1367, the parliamentary ordinances known as the Statutes of Kilkenny enacted '' that marriage, nurture of "infants, and gossipred with the ·Irish, should· be considered '' and punished as high treason ; · and it was made· penal to the "English colonists to permit their Irish neighbours to graze on " their lands, t9 present them to ecclesiastical benefices, or to "receive them· into monasteries or religious houses. . The poetry * and music of the Irish, too, were placed under bann, and it was '' made pen~l to entertain bards and rhymers, who perverted "the imagination by romantic tales." In fact, · the framers of these wic~ed laws affected to regard ·the n_ative _Irish as utterly irreclaimable, and only fit to be treated· as savages. Good reason had the O'Tooles and· O'Byrnes to rejoice when they first heard. of that famous Parliament, for doubtless it suggested to them· the· necessity of being constantly on · their guard against those who, although of ·the s·an1e religion, were taught to regard themselves a superior, · nay, dominant race." During the ten years that elapsed between the Kilken.ny parlia­ ment and the death of Edward III., hardly a month passed ,, ithout some wild foray on the southern '' marches" of Dublin; from which the O'Tooles were constantly " lifting preys," that is, driving off to their mountains the herds and flocks that dare not venture out to pasture except under escort of armed men. Even for mountaineers this was a precarious way of living, but we may not doubt that it helped them to improve the the breed of their own cattle from Glencormac to Imale. But raids of this sort often brought both chief and clan to grief ; for the Four Masters tell us that in 1368,. Hugh O'Toole. Lord of Imale, was slain by the English, and that David O'Toole was put to death by the English of Dublin eight years afterwards. Instead of being subdued by such disasters, the clan cherished lively and bitter recollections of the Dubliners; for after an in­ terval of about thirty years, that is to say, in 1396, the same Annalists relate that " a· battle was gained by "O'Toole over the Anglo-Irish and Saxons of Leinster, '' in which the English were slaughtered, and six score of th·eii: "heads were· carried for exhibition before O'Toole." Ghastly 28 THE O'TOOLES. spectacle this, but not a whit more revolting than the stake at which the Anglo-Normans sat by, while a human being was grilled to death. Two years after this victory, the scene of which we know not, the annalists record another action, in which the confederated clans of the O'Byrnes and O'Tooles de­ feated the English, under the Earl of March, and slew that personage. Bitter retribution, however, overtook the clans in 1402-third of Henry the Fourth-when John Drake, Mayor of Dublin, routed them with considerable slaughter, near Bray, probably on the spot now known as "Bloodybank." For this ex­ ploit Drake was elected Mayor for the succeeding year. ''Eight years after this event," says Harris, "Thomas Butler, prior of "Kilmainham, then lord deputy to the Duke of Lancaster, '' marched into the country of the O'Tooles, with 1,500 kerns, '' and was strengthened by a band of citizens, under "the command of Robert Galan, then Mayor of Dublin. "Upon their approach to the enemy, 800 of the kerns (light foot) "deserted to the Irish ; so that if the gan~ison of Dublin had not " been at han~ it might have proved fatal to the Lord Deputy, "who, by that means, made an orderly retreat." A sore hun1i­ liation for the prior, who, doubtless, had been more fittingly engaged at his prayers with the Knights Templars in l{.il­ mainham, if English statutes had rni>t taught him that a 1nere Irishman was little better than a heathen Turk. The facts now laid before the reader will, it is presumed, con­ vince him that the Clan O'Toole was one of the bravest that ever disputed the advancement of English power in Ireland. Indeed, when we consider the proximity of their country to the metropolis, and the incessant efforts 1nade by the English to wrest it from them, we cannot but admire the persistent heroism they exhibited, and . the loving tenacity with which they clung to their glens and mountains. In the course of a few years after the first arrival of the Anglo-Normans, they parcelled out among themselves the rich lands lying on the north bank of the Liffey ; including those of Meath and Louth. But, as we have seen, ·neithertheynortheir descen­ dants had the same good fortune south of Dublin, where the THE O'TOOLES. 29

O'Tooles still held their own during the reigns of nine English Sovereigns, who styled themselves "Lords of Ireland." This is specially noteworthy, when we call to mind the resources of the colonists, their more enlightened polity, better military system-in a word, all the superior advantages which ought, but yet didnot,subjugate the tribes of the Leinster highlands. 1\fore than two centuries had to elapse before that could be achieved-centuries, as we shall see, of almost uninter­ rupted hostilities, in which the O'Tooles bore themselves bravely and cast no discredit on the fame of their forefathers.

PART IV.

BEFORE resuming our notices of the O'Tooles at the close of the reign of Henry IV., we have thought it might profit the reader to know something of the vicissitudes of Castle Kevin, which for many centuries was the residence of the lords of Fertire. This historic edifice, of which the site is still well-known, stood hardby Ath-na-moe, that is, the cow's ford, andincloseproximityto Glen-da-lough, and the lakes Dan and Tay. Of the exact date of its erection we are unhappily ignorant; but there is good reason for assigning it to the beginning of the twelfth century. In 1308, the viceroy, Wogan, with a strong force, attacked the O'Tooles in this place, but was shamefully put to flight, after losing some of his best knights. In the same year Piers de Ga veston, Earl of Cornwall, and favourite of Edward II., was appointed Lord Deputy, with n1ost ample powers for removing officials and presenting ecclesiastics to benefices within the king's gift. His deputyship was very brief, not quite a year; but during that time he had some hard fighting with the clan O'Toole, and succeeded in marching as far as Castle I{evin, which it is said, he rebuilt. He has also got credit for having cut passes through the woods from Castle Kevin to 30 THE O'TOOLES.

Glen-da-lough, and for having made a thanks-offering in the church of St. Kevin for his insignificant victories. 'Tis likely enough that he assisted at Te Deum in that beautiful little oratory, which a stupid and persistent ignorance, would have us believe was the Saint's , " Kitchen." Be·. that as it may, the n1ountain septs soon afterwards drove him ·out,. and gave him cause to sing '' De- Profundis." · This is. not the place to dwell more diffusely on the 'history of Castle Kevin; a1id we wiU content ourselves with stating that it cqntiriued· to be the stronghold of the O'Toole, lord of. Fertire, till the confiscations of Jame~ I., in the seventeenth century. During the reign of Henry the Fifth, we hear little of the O'Tooles, who, we may suppose, were allowed to till their fields in peace, and prepare themselves for further conflicts with English power, which, as yet, had got no foothold in their territory. Twenty-one years, however, after the accession of Henry the Sixth (1442), William Wells, then Lord Deputy, led a strong force into the Wicklow mountains-'' where," say the Four Masters, '' they committed great depredations. But the '' O'Byrnes and the O'Tooles overtook the English, defeated and '' killed eight hundred of them, and stripped them of countless " spoils." This, it would appear, was the most signal success the united clans ever achieved; for, in the interval of fifty-one years, which comprises the reigns of four English "Lords of Ireland," we have no data to prove that the O'Tooles and their confederates were molested by the garrisons of Dublin. In 1509, Henry VIII. was duly proclaimed in Dublin King of England and '' Lord of Ireland." Seven years afterwards, Gerald, ninth Earl of Kildare, being made Viceroy, was ordered toattacktheO'Tooles, who had recently committed some outrages on the English '' marches." The earl accordingly forced his way into Imale, where he slew Shane O'Toole and sent his head for a present to John Rochford, Mayor of Dublin. The next year (1517) Christopher Usher,. then mayor, had the temerity to make a dash into Feracualan, where the O'Tooles routed him with signal loss. The same year witnessed, say the Four Masters. the death of Art O'Toole slain by his own kinsmen. THE O'TOOLES. 31 ------The history of thg O'Tooles, during the reign of Henry VIII., is, indeed, singularly remarkable, and the State papers of that monarch enable us to present it to the reader in some of its most interesting phases, vividly and amply. In.1530 Skeffington was appointed deputy, and came to Ire­ land attended by the Earl of Kildare, whom we have already 1nentioned.. During the latter's ~bsence in England, the O'Tooles " preyed" his lands and carried . off whole herds of cattle and· flocks of sheep to their hills.. This ou~raged Kildare, and he immediately set out .from Dublin, with two hundred archers, to punish the spoilers, who n1et him fearlessly, and com­ pelled· him to withdraw in hot haste. A sad humiliation this for tlie· Earl ·who had dared to dispute the charges preferred against him by cardinal Wolsey. Five years afterwards, when '' Silken Thomas" rebelled, the O'Tooles lenlj him the aid of their ·services; _and Harris states .that Fingal, then ·the granary of Dublin, was exposed to their incursions, and that the citizens, sallying out to intercept them at Kilmainham · bridge, were signally defeated after losing four score of their best nien. The correspondence of the period, however, gives us a clearer insight into the state of Ireland at that ·tiine, and shows how much the O'Tooles were dreaded by t~e authoritias in Dublin Castle. A few extracts · from the State papers of Henry VIII. will throw strong light on the subject. Brabazon, the Vice-Treasurer, writes to the King, September, 1535, " the lands of Ireland may be at your grace's command by "banishing the O'Tooles, Byrnes, and Kavanaghs." In the next '' year Lord Or1nond infor1ns the Privy Council, '' the O'Byrnes, '' O'Tooles, andI{avanaghs, inhabitingthecountriesbetwixtDub- " lin and Waterford, require reformation, and unless the same be '' -ichieved effectually, his J\iajesty shall never be able to keep "same without continual charges," to which the Lord Deputy adds, "Neither your highness nor your heirs can ever have 't your dominions defended from Irishmen, unless you conqueste '' O'Byrne, O'Toole, and their kinsn1en." Very agreeable recol­ lections are these for the clans, and with good reason may they plun1e themselves when they think that their forefathers pre~ 1 __ J i 32 THE O'TOOLES. : ' 'I I I { sented such almost· insurmountable obstacles to the political and religious refor1nations of King Henry. In the twenty-sixth year of his reign, he proclahned himself supreme head of the Church of England, and in that sa1ne_ year an apostate Augustinian friar of English birth, who disgraced the See of Dublin, wrote that "at "the hazard of his life he had endeavoured to reduce the "nobility and gentry of Ireland to own the King their "Supreme Head, as well spiritual as temporal, and ad­ " vised the calling of a Parliainent to pas; the Supre1nacy, '' as the people did not much mind the king's commission." Little, indeed, did the Irish people care. for archbishop Browne's atten1pts to force them into schism by Acts of Parlian1ent; and 'We can easily imagine with what scorn they 111ust have regarded his project. The O'Tooles, surely, had very clear views on this subject, and preferred chancing hell with Saint Lorchan to chancing heaven with George Browne, whom they knew, his purple, a1nple revenues, and social position not­ withstanding, to be a wanton, avaricious miscreant-mere gilded clay : in short, what the Protestant Deputy described him, '' a, poll-shorn knave, and hypocrite friar." Convert an O'Toole to Protestantis1n ! Three hundred years' preaching against the Pope, and all the millions squandered on the Establishment have not persuaded one decent rne1nber of the sept to renounce his allegiance to Rome. But let us do justice to Browne. He did not care for the souls of the O'Tooles--his only concern wa.s for their bodies, which, if he could, he would certainly h:we gibbeted on every tree from Bohernabreena to Teranure. "\Vlia,t else did they deserve for their treatment of him and his? Night and day they gave him no rest in tha.t 1nagnifi.cent house of Ta.llagh, within whose moated walls he usually dwelt. A beaut.i­ ful prospect lay before hiin whenever he ascended its tower, but the pleasure he derived from contemplating a landscape of snch loveliness, 1nust ha,ve been dashed when he reme1nbered tha,t beyond the line of the Dublin hills lay the country of the ()'Tooles, who thought more of his sheep and herds than of himself and the newly-constituted H~ad of the Church. The sufferings of all the martyrs were trifles compared to what THE O'TOOLES. 33

Drowne had to endure at the hands of those ferocious, un- : lJ31ieving mountaineers, who, he tells us, "were his mortal ·' ene1nies, daily oppressing his poor tenants and threatening " his life." " If," continues his Grace, " I am forced to lie '' at Tallagh, I shall be in the same case with the Tooles that my '' predecessor was with the Geraldines. . . . . how I am wrapped, '' God j ndge. If I repair to Tallagh, then a111 I assured nigh 1 ' to be. my confusion : thus on every side I ain invaded with '' sorrows." About the period of which we are writing (1537), Tirlogh O'Toole was head of the sept, and his brother Art Og (Young Arthur), kept his state in Castle Kevin. Hara:;sed by a succession of Lord Deputies, and by the ninth Ea,rl of Kild~re, who, it seems, got temporary possession of Powerscourt, and leased some of its lands to one Talbot, the brothers resolved to agree to a suspension of arms with Lord Gray, then deputy, for three years. One is almost forced to smile at finding the chiefs of a 1nountain tribe negotiating with the representative of English majesty, who was only too glad to accept the following terms :- 1. This suspension shall last till ~Iay, 154:0. 2. Tirlogh shall possess all the territory owned by his father, Arthur O'Toole, forty years befo~e the present date. 3. In all hastings Tirlogh shall attend the Deputy with two horsenrnn and two con1mon soldiers, who shall receive diet fron1 the Deputy. 4:. Art Og shall be bound by these terms, or else forfeit all right to the land of Feracualan. 5. Thero shall be a general a1nnesty for all injuries inflicted on either side during late hostilities. 6. Lord Orinonde and Ossory and his brother, Lord James Butler, shall enter into recognisance for carrying out tern1s of this truce. 7. Neither said Tirlogh, nor his brother, nor any of his name, shall levy on the King's subjects within the English lin1its any teibute or tributes, except such as they have been in the habit of receivin~ the last forty years past. The truce, however, did not hold good for 1nore than a year, B 34 THE O'TOOLES. and its interruption occurred thus. · One.Kelways, Constable 'of Rathmore, arrested some of O'Toole's people on a charge of "sheep-stealing" within the English border, . and forthwith hanged them. · Hearing this, Tirlogh and Art resolved to be at quits with ·Kelways, who fled to Three Castles, on the borders of. the O'Toole _country, · and took shelter in a .thatched house there. · The O'Tooles set fire to· the· house,'_ and· when they had smoked out Kel ways, hanged him, slew sixty of his company, and 1nade prisoners of many others, amorig the rest, one Richard Aylmer, of Lyons. The Deputy, fumed at t~is energetic con­ duct; wrote to the King that Kelways, the agent·, _was "a very hardy gentleman as any could be;" that he (the Deputy) was likely to get the prfaoners without ransom ; and would hold Tir­ logh to stand to the order of the Council in Dublin Castle. In this, however, his lordship was deceived ; for instead of getting the O'Toole into his gripe, the latter· appointed to meet him near Ballymore, in the county Kildare,· where he was encamped with the O'Byrnes and Kavanaghs. Oa arriving, the Deputy found that . the confederates had retired in_to Glenma­ lure, whither he followed them, and got such rough handling that he was glad to escape with his life to Dublin, after, as he himself tells us, '' n1aking some roads where Deputy never was before." Soon after this, a rumour reached the O'Tooles that Gray had been recalled, and they immediately descended into the pasture lands about Dublin, from which they lifted preys of cattle, and, what they prized more, a considerable quantity of arms. Supplies of this sort enabled thE!m to set the governmeut at defiance; so much so that the deputy thought it expedient to invite them to a conference, for the purpose of renewing the tl'uce. The account of this scene is so graphic, that we quote it here from the State Pa,pers, Temp. Henry VIII. :- " His lordship appointed a. meeting with Tirlogh O'Toole upon the borders of the county Dublin, to which resorted the Chancellor, the Treasurer, Lord Kilcullen, with many of the nobility of the country. Tirlogh sent word to the Deputy that the Ch::u1cellor, Treasurer, and two Chief J uclges should come to the water side, as safe conducts, to com­ Imme with him which, when he did, he spoke to rrirlogh very gentilly, s,iying he would kill with his own hands any that would offer him hurt. Withal Tirlogh 1 er ;eiving the Deputy's men to dr.i,w down fast in plumps, 'l'lf'E O'TOOLES. 35 did find default at it, saying he was in fear. _ The Deputy answered, 'Fear nothing, gossip;' 'I will go myself, arid put them back,' leaving the Council communing with Tirlogh. As soon as the Deputy came to his men he caused the trumpet to sound. and ran in chase after Tirlogh, till daylight took the sight of him from them, which was the greatest shame and· rebuke to him (the Deputy) and 'all the Council that ever was heard in ·Ireland. Such treachery as this discredits the King in all Ire­ land; amongst Irishmen, who say they be more in surety in time of war than peace, for in time of peace they be robbed, and never esteemed for good services." - This unprincipled Deputy being re-called in 1540, was suc­ ceeded by Sir William Brereton, appointed to act as Lord Justice ad interim . . A few days after his arrival in Dublin, he notified the king-that the O'Conors were up in the west, that the Tooles _and Kavanaghs were " burning in the marches off Dublin," and that for want_ of troops -he was unable to stay them. In July of same year, Lord Ormond informs the King that O'Toole was ready tJ _make peace, now that Gray, who always acted falsely by him, had- been withdrawn. At this time (July _154:0), Sir -Anthony Sentleger was constituted Deputy; and in September he_ wrote to the king that if the O.'Tooles would.not submit, he must proceed to their utter banishment, "which is more to be done with pain (excessive difficulty) than _" any great good result ;" "for," he continues, "these same " O'Tooles_ inhabit the mountains where they have no habita­ '' tion but the woods and marshes, and yet do more harm to your '' English pale than the most part of all Treland." A marked compliment this to the prowess of the O'Tooles ! In November (1540) Sentleger issued a proclamation com­ manding the O'Tooles to quit theirmountains and seek locations elsewhere. This monition, he tells us, " they clearly denied to follow," whereupon his Excellency, with a strong force, entered their country, and, being joined by the Earl of Ormond with a company of 600 horse and foot, he continued about the fast­ nesses for four weeks, pursuing and slaying some of the sept. Tirlogh, finding himself unable to cope with such a strong array, particularly as the Kavanaghs had made their submission, sig­ nified through Ormond that he would willingly parley with the Deputy. This proposal was accepted, and the Irish Chief and the Deputy met in an old castle which Afheh stood at Fassaroe. 36 THE o'TOOLEs:

O'Toole demanded that he andhisshould be allowed to hold their lands on the same terms as the Kavanaghs had been allowed to hold theirs. This Sentleger refused to listen to, but offered them other lands within the English pale, "where," says he, "they should not have occasion to do loyal subjects so much '' harm ;" but the hills and glens were dearer to .the O'Tooles than any possessions they could get elsewhere, and they resolved to dispute the wholesale eviction. Seeing this, Sentleger re­ laxed a little, and hinted that the kin t might think it better to give them the lands they claimed as their own than any other, '' considering the same be all waste, and hard to make English­ men inhabit same without great costs to his highness." But it occurred to Tirlogh that he should see Henry in person, and prefer a petition to him for obtaining a grant of his territory from the Crown. Sentleger thought this fair enough, and iu­ mediately took Tirlogh and his brother to peace, on condition that they should leave the challenge of their lands and all tributes which they had of his Majesty's subjects (thr~e or four hundred marks by the year) till the Crown had :finally determined the matter in dispute. These preliminaries being arranged, the Deputy returned to Dublin, and wrote to the King that Tirlogh '' was able to raise two or three " hundred men, and had done n1ore hurt to the English '' pale than any man in Ireland, and would do if he be "not clearly banished or restored to your highness's favour." He also ad vises that the lands claimed by Tirlogh should be given to him, '' seeing that it would be hard to 1naintain same '' without excessive charges to the king; that he; Tirlogh, "should have a grant of the Castle of Powrescourte, lately " passed to some one else who was entitled to recompense ; and "that Art Og O'Toole (a sober fellow and good captain) " should get a grant of Castle Kevin, with the lands thereunto "belonging, called the Fertur, to be holden of his Majesty by '' such service as might stand with the royal pleasure. On " these conditions," adds the Deputy, " Tirlogh and Art have "promised to put in pledges of the best they have for good I I l II "behaviour to IGl\J,' highness's subjects, and also to pay yearly THE o'TOOLES. 37

"to your Majesty, after two years, five markes by the year for "Powrescourte with Feracualan, and other five markes, by the "year, to the archbishop of Dublin, for his interest in the said '' Castle Kevin and Fertur aforesaid.'' Towards the close of the month in which Tirlogh and the Deputy held their '' parley," the former, accompanied by one Fitzwilliams, who was to act as his interpreter, set out to present himself to the King, in London. Three hundred and sixty-five years had· _passed since St. Lorchan waited on Henry II. at Windsor; and it is reasonable to suppose that this fact may have occurred to Tirlogh's memory and taught him that he was not the first of the family who approached the majesty of England. Be that as it may, Tirlogh was personally and, it seems, favourably, known to the Duke of Norfolk, to whom he brought a letter of reco1nmendation fro1n Sentleger. We reproduce it here in all the freshness of its quaint phrases and orthogeaphy ; and the reader will see that its tenor is in keeping with letters of like import in which subordinates are usually treated by superiors, real or imaginary, with a pity that is near akin to con­ tempt. Withal tue stout heart can smile down con1placent ex­ aggerations of this kind:- " MY MosT GRACIOUS GOOD Lonn-It may please your Grace to be advertised, that concerning his Majestie'shigh commandment concerning the reformation of Laynster, whiche, as your Grace knoweth, restith in , reforming the O'Berns, the rrooles, and the Cavernaghs, whiche, thaukes be to God, are now contented to be as others of his Highnesses sub­ jectes. Ann, forbicawse I knowe your Grace shall se the Kinges letter~, wherin I, with the cownsell here, have expressedat large ourprocedinges, I leave to wryte the same to your grace. But the speciall cawse, I wryte to your grace is, first, considering how miche I am bownd to love and sarve your blood, with whom I have hadde my bring-hing up, and also for that I knowe no noble man in Ynglande bath such knowlege of the qua­ lities of this land, and people thereof, as your grace. And thcrfore I shall moste humbly beseche your grace, when ye shall se and peruse the same our letter, sent to his Majestie, that ye will, according your accus­ tomed goodnesse, set forthe the same, and, wher it lacketh good matter, to pardon our rudenes, and accept our good willes. '' .A.nu as concerning Turlogh Otoole, your old servante, his only con­ fidence, next the King, is in your grace, apon whose only favour he is now repaired into Yngland; and as your grace knoweth, altho he be but a wretche, yet he hath done more harme to the Y nglisshe pale, then any one man in Irelande, and could never, before this tyme, be brought to that poynte that he now is. And it is verely thought, that, if it may please the Kinges Majestie to entreate this symple person in good sorte, 38 THE o'TOOLES. that it shalbe meane not only to reduce the grete parte of Laynster, but also encorage other Irisshe~en to lyke obedience. Your. grace knowith well, that the contre, · wher the Tooles e~habitte, is all wast, and ther lyving is only apon the Kinges s_ubjectes, by stelthis, bodragges, and tri­ butes, whiche they have yerely of the Kinges subjectes, to the valew of 4 or 500 marckes, which they have now clerely realised. And, forbycawse this Turlogh namyth hym self your servante, being mynded, as I before have said, torepaire into Yngland to the Kinges lVlajestie, and lacking money for his forniture, I have geven hym, of my nowne purse, 20£ to­ wardes his charge·s. And he wold nedis that I shuld wryte to your grace, that he shuld lacke nothing when he cam ther; for he said that he wa.~ suer that, if I wold write to your grace that he was becom an Y nglisshe­ man, that your grace wold se that he shold lacke nothing. And tho your grace knowe his wretchidnes of lyfe, yet his corage is grete,· for when that Oneill, Odonell, Ochonor, and all the grete lordes of Ireland, were bent ageinst the Y nglisshe pale, he sent worde to the Lorde Deputie, and said, sens that all those grete lordes were ageinst hym, . that he wold suerly be with hym, ,and do no hurte to the Y nglisshe pale in his absence ; but when so ever that all they were at peace, then he alone wold be at warre with hym, and the Y nglisshe pale. Whiche promesse hP- truly kept, for assone as Oneill, O

PART V.

SENTLEGER's letter shows that Tirlogh O'Toole was a very ec centric individual, with a strong dash of originality in his com­ position. That he was brave there can be no doubt, but that he was impolitic is unquestionable. When the O'Neill was harrying the northern liinits of the Pale, Tirlogh folded his hands, and would not strike a blow at the Deputy, because he thought much honour could not be gained under such circumstances. He had, indeed, exaggerated notions of " fair play," and deemed it beneath him to take advantage of Sentleger while that 11 THE O'TOOLEs.· 39

personage was engn,ged with the Ulster clans. Tirlogh · was jealous of his laurels, and too confident in his own prowess. He courted no alliance with O'Neills 0r O'Donnells, -but was per­ fectly satisfied with the resources which his own clan and those of the O'Byraes and Cavanaghs. placed at his disposal. If the Dubliners were to be fl.uttered, that is, scared out of their wits, and compelled to pay a round sum of four or five- hundred 1narks annually to the_ chief of the O'Tooles he'd. have none to assist him in levying such '' black rent.'' Far otherwise,- indeed ; he relied wholly on· self, and, like Coriolanus, would boast­ '' alone I did jt !". This, doubtless, was chivalrous, but very foolish. Even so, it must be admitted that the Deputy re~ spected and feared him.. Need we remark that his letter of recommendation promised too much for Tirlogh '? By what process of transforn1ation was he to becoine an Englislunan ? Would the sight of London and the portly ! figure of king Henry induce him to part with all those grand qualities that distinguished the character of the Celtic chief 1 Could all tl~e splendour of Greenwich and Hampton Court n1ake hi1n forget·. the hills and glens of Feracualan, or would the glori~s of Westminster Abbey make him a whit more devout than t1:ie unadorned little oratory of Saint Mochonoc 1 Above all, could he fo~get the wrong::i and outrages he and his had endured for centuries at the hands of a long succession of English pro-consuls, whose aim was to wrest their lands from them, and turn then1 houseless on the world 1 _Nothing was more unlikely. The king, indeed, might induce him to learn the English tongue, cut off his glib, shave hi_s upper lip, and don English apparel. But were this to make him an Englishman we 1ni.ght deny the adage which maintains that the habit does not 1nake the n1onk, except outwardly. Since 1367 the English executive in Ireland had striven to bring about this homogeneity, but with what result is well known. Indeed, it is hard to ima­ gine how a sensible 1nan like Sentleger could have counted. on changing Tirlogh's nature. But have not all the Deputies since Sentleger's time tried the same experiment ·and failed, notwithstanding the n10re perfect 1nachinery they have had at 40 THE O'TOOLES. their comn1and? National Sc110ols and every other expedient have not realised the desired effect; for go where he will, even t@ the extren1ities of the world, the Irishman retains his n1arked characteristics--love of native land, generous ardour, tenderness, vivacity, hatred of oppression, and devotedness to the faith of his forefathers. But how did Tirlogh fare with the kinz ? The monarch himself tells us that he treated the mountai; chief hospitably, and with the consideration his rank i j deserved. As for the latter, he presented a me:morial praying his Majesty to grant him "the land called Feracualan, which '' his ancestors heretofore had, said land or territorv containing '' certain villages, to wit:- Powrescourte. The Owenagh. Anacreve. Kylpete.r. Ballycorty. .Kilmoolyn. Kylcoolyn. Temple Began. Ballyn Brow. Beanagh Beg. Kyltagaran. Kylleger. Beanagh lVIore. Cokyston. The l\'.Ionastery. "The said Tirlogh to have the premises divided betwixt hhn "and his brother, and, after division made, each party to hav0 '' letters patent of their portion. The said Tirlogh to hold the "whole seignory of the king by knight's service and payment :I "of five marks yearly; they all to be obedient to the king's ;j I "laws, use English apparel, and do such service as other gentle- ' " men of the W alshes, Harolds, and Archbolds do or use in th0 "ma1ches of Dublin." On behalf of his brother Art Og, he further prayed that he ·I "might have, after like forrn and sort, the n1anor of Castle " Kevin, with the lands of Fertire, of the king's gift, reserving " yearly five n1arks to the archbishop of Dublin and his sue- '' cess0rs." The king entertniined the n1emorial favourably, and notifiecl Sentleger, from Hampton· Court, 27th Jan.nary, 1541, that he had " not only used Tirlogh well," but thought fit to grant to him, and to his br0ther Art, all such lands as were contained in a schedule renutted to the Deputy; and, furthermore, autho .. rised the Chancellor to make out to him and his brother, and their heirs, letters patent under the gre:1t seal of Irela,nd, of th(J same "to have and to hold said lands upon con.ditions whic:, THE o'TOOLES. 4]

"we send unto you." The year in which this grant was made was an epochal one, for on the 26th June (J 541 ), after solemn Mass had been sung in St. Patrick's Cathedral by the schismatic archbishop Brow-ne, Henry VIII. was duly proclaimed king of Ireland. The conditions to which the king's letter alludes were that the O'Tooles should suffer passages, paths, and roads to be made into their country ; that English writs should be allowed to run therein ; and that Brehon law should be superseded by English jurisprudence. However willing Tirlogh might have been to hold his lands on such conditions, he must have felt greatly surprised when Sent­ leger refused to ma1{e out his patents according to the king's order, because he had discovered in the interim th:it Tirlogh's children were all bastards, that is, "born of parents not married according to the order of his Majesty's laws!'·' "Till your high­ '' ness's furder pleasure signified," writes this consun1mate scoundrel, " I staye to n1ake and delyver any graunte to them." In reply to this, however, the king writes (July 5, 1542):, '' Con­ " cerning the grants made to Tirlogh O'Toole, forasn1uch as, "when the said grant was made unto him, his son was taken " for his heir, though some objection 1night have been made of " his condition, whereof we then heard nothing-in case young " Tirlogh will be bound to the conditions which his father had " promised, we be pleased that you shall, by warrant hereof "cause letters patents to be made unto him and his right heirs "of the same." But the royal mandate was unheeded, or, at all events, not executed speedily, for Sentleger informs us that ''young ''Tirlogh wasslain before hisMajesty's willinthatrega:rdtookper­ fection." As forTirlogh senior, Sentleger contrived to get rid of him in a summary manner, of which he has left us a succinct account.. Before submitting it to the reader, we may premise that the deputies of that and subsequent periods were instructed by the cabinet of London to foment rivalries between the heads of the Irish septs, and to patronise any traitor who revolted against his chief. The clan O'Toole, unfortunately, was not exempt from this curse ; for there was among them one MacShane who, Sentleger tells us, "had long served the king," or, in other

M 42 THE O'TOOLES.

words, had borne arm~ again~t Tirlogh of Powerscourt. The 1 latter resolved to crush the recreant and his faction, and, with that intent, " sought hi1n with horsemen and kerne" amongst the hills, till he fell into an a1nbuscade where Mac­ Shane slew him and a considerable number of his fol­ lowers. Thus ignobly perished the chieftain who, unaided, had so long 111aintained himself against two viceroys. Sentleger rejoiced when the news of Tirlogh's death reached him, and, instead of punishing MacShan~, sent him a safe­ conduct to resort to Limerick, where it was ordered by the consent of all the lords that, '' considering said Tirlogh gave "occasion of his own death, Mac Shane should have his par­ " don.'' "But," continues the Deputy, "lest Irishmen might "imagine that we favoured or dissembled his death, we took '' order for detestation of the offence that Mac Shane should '' not only forfeit all his lands to the king and be barred fro1n " the seignory of Imale for ever; but in reco1npeuse of the , " death of said Tirlogh, pay to his wife, children, and kinsfolk, '' thirteen score kine, with all such horse and harness as he " took from them the time the act was committed." A re­ markable proceeding this on the part of the Deputy, who had recourse to the old Celtic law of compensation for 1nurcler. Ilut surely all the cattle that e-v-er grazed in the valleys of Feracualan, were not an eric for him who was assassinated with Sentleger's connivance. MacShane, he tells us, was not able to levy the stipulated number of kine, but we 111ay assume that his patron and instigator provided for him somehow. Tirlogh's death occurred in 1542, and in the May of next year Seri.tleger 1nen1orialed the king that Brian, eldest son oi deceased, might have a grant of such lands as were given to his father. "Brian," says the Deputy, '' is a right toward young man, and must De "put to great expense if co1npelled to repair to your l\iajesty's '' presence for obtaining the grant." The king complied with the Deputy's request, and Brian, surnamed '' the warrior,'' succeeded toall his father's honours. And right well did he serve the Deputy, for when the Fitzgeralds rebelled in 1546, and wasted the country fro1n Three. Castles, near Blessington, tu Rathangan, in Kildare, THE o'TOOLES. 43

Brian and his sept fought stoutly against them till the leaders were captured and executed in Dublin Castle. From the a.ccession or Edward the Sixth (1547), till the Fourth of Queen Mary, 1556, we have hardly any notice of the doings of the O'Too~es. In the latter year, however, the Cavanaghs plun­ dered the country south of Dublin, and then fortified them­ selves in Powerscourt, where they were vigorously attacked by Sir George Stanley and Sheriff Bulkley, who compelled them to surrender. A few days afterwards, eighty-two of the "rebels" were hanged in the court-yard of Dublin Castle. In that brief interval of nine years the old Cathedral of Christ Church wit­ nessed strange sights. On Easter Sunday (1550), the liturgy in the English tongue was first read there by the apostate Browne ; and three years afterwards the Catholic altar was restored within the same precincts by order of Queen Mary. Browne being compelled to resign, was succeeded by Curwin, one of l\iary's ohaplains and favourites, who; in Elizabeth's time, showed him­ self "ready to do what authority commanded. J, Lord Arthur Grey was appointed Deputy in 1580, and, on arriving in Dublin, he 1nade all possible despatch to crush the septs of the O'Tooles and O'Byrnes, who .;ere up in arms with James Eustace,_ L9rd Baltinglas, '' who," say the " Four Masters," had recently '' e1nbraced the Catholic faith, and renounoed his sovereign.'' The confederates encamped at Slieverue, near Blesinton, but on Grey's approach they retreated into Glenn1alure. The De­ puty, after taking q~unsel with ·his staff, among whom we find the Earl 0£ Kildare, J mnes Wingfield, and others of less note, ordered nine companies to enter the glen and route the rebels, while he himself re1nained with the horse on a neighbouring eminence. The account of this action has been recorded by one who took part in it, and we will, therefore, let him describe what he saw--- " We entered the glen,'§ writes Sir W. Stanley, "on the 25th of August, and were forced to slide some times three or four fathoms· before we could stay our feet. It was in depth, where we entered, at the least ai mile; full of stones, rocks, bogs, and wood ; in the bot­ tom thereof a river full of great loose stones, which we were driven, to cross different times. So long as our leaders kept the bottom, the odds of the skirmish was on ourside. But .our colonel being a1 44 THE O'TOOL ES. corpulent man, not able to endure travel, before we were half way through the glen, which was four miles in length, led us up the hill. It was so steep that we were forced to use · our hands as well to climb as our feet. And the vanguard being gone up the hill we (the rereguar

which must have been considerable, since Grey's baggage waggons and commissariat, were captured by the victors. Feagh Mac Hugh O'Byrne; the ·Eustaces, and the O'Tooles, now set the government at open defiance, and held out for two years, until the chiefs of Baltinglas were ultimately obliged to fly to Spain, where they were generously received and maintained by Philip II. A few months before the battle of Glenmalure, one Andrew Trollope, a lawyer, came to Ireland in search of employment from the deputy, and as he had a taste for jotting down current events, he has left us an account of a fact relating to the O'Tooles which came under his personal observation, and which is so graphic that we may not omit it here :- " About the 16th July (1580) Felim O'Toole was apprehended for vie~ tualling rebels. 'l'hereon his brother gathered his tenants and followers and killed, burned, and spoyled as many as he could find disposed to be true subjects. He sent word to the deputy to deliver his brother, or else he would burn and spoyle the country to the gates of Dublin ; but that if he set his brother at liberty he would come in and be pledge for his brother's good behaviour. Felim being persuaded to yield himself, and· told if he would not do so, his brother, being his pledge, should be hanged, · made answer he cared not, and bid hang him if they would. About 28th August (Just three day's after Gre;t's defeatin the Glen) said Felim's. brother i.vas hanged, as I 1n·,w God I may see all the rest, for every chief. rebel's pardon is a hundred men's deaths." Nevertheless, Trollope's charitable aspiration was not gra­ tified; for, towards the close of 1581, Elizabeth sent her deputy a straight injunction to restore the quiet possession of Powers­ court, that is, the territory of F~racualan, to Art O'Toole, whose title to same was disputed by one Felim, who is described as "having a glym, scilent look, framed to the conforrnity of his . '' wicked disposition." In the November of 1580, Grey and Sir Walter Raleigh massacred the garrison of Smerwick in cold blood, after surrender; and in September, 1582, Loftus, queen's archbishop of Dublin, lord chancellor, &c., &c., and Sir Henry Wallop were appointed Lords Justices ad interim. It was about· this period that Sir I-Ienry Harrington was ap­ pointed Seneschal, that is, a military officer with magisteria] privileges, to see thn.t Fiagh 1\-Iac Rugh O'Byrne observed the terms of a composition which he rnn.cle with Grey after he had 46 THE O'TOOLES. beaten the latter. Hi:trrington established himself in Newcastle, then the centre of the eastern portion of the country of the O'Byrnes, and toiled hard to convince the_ septs of the superior " civility" of Englisih rule, and the · kindness with whid1 Queen Elizabeth would fain regard them, their frequent rebel­ lions notwithstanding. "In 1583, he writes with great self-comr_1lacency that he 'had brought in (i.e. compounded with) the sept of the O'Tooles, under Shane lVIa.c Feagh O'Toole, Cahir O'Toole, and Feagh Crosso O'Toole, and con­ cludes by stating that he has hopes that the O'Byrne will do no damage to the English pale.' " But the influence of the latter over O'Tooles and Cavanagh3 exceeded any that a functionary like Harrington could exercise ; and in accorda~ce with his wishes they one and all observed an armed neutrality in the foolish hope that a new Deputy would cause their rights to be respected against rapacious adventurers who sought their utter extirpation. Sir John Perrott was sworn Deputy in June, 1584, and in April of the following year he assembled a parliament in Dublin which was composed: of twenty-two bishops (Protestant), whc, sat as spiritual peers, twenty-six temporal lords, nearly all of the sa1ne creed; while the shires were represented by twenty­ seven members, most of whom were of the Ascendency religion, . and well affected to Elizabeth's government. It was, in fact, a packed assemblage convened for the purpose of att~inting Eustace, lord Baltinglas, and enacting statutes. niaking estates tail forfeitable for treason. The Four Masters thought that Fiagh O'Byrne represented Wicklow on this occasion ; but in this they were mistaken, for the members returned for that .county were Edward Brabazon anq Sir Henry Harrington, . both of. whom had an eye to forfeitures in that quarter. As for the O'Tooles, it is almost superfluous to observe that none of them received a writ of summons. Whatever may be said in favour of Perrott's govern1nent of Ireland, it must be admitted that he had recourse to expedients which were un­ worthy of his exalted position. His treacherous capture of young O'Donnell, and other distinguished Irish nobles, is too well known to require more than passing notice here; but it THE O'TOOLES.

, n1ay mterest the reader to know that on his retirement (1588) he left thirty-one of the chief Celtic nobility in the prison of Dublin Castle, as pledges for the peace of their several countries. Among those were Hugh O'Toole, and Kedogh, of sa1ne name. O'Don­ nell, with son1e of his fellow-captives, effected his first escape during the deputyship of Fitzwillia1n (1590), and, in the dark­ ness of a winter night, made his way to Fassaroe, whence he sent a messenger to Felin1 O'Toole, then head of his sept, and residing at Powerscourt, praying support and concealment against the deputy's pursuivants, who were on his track. Feliin, however, was too politic to house such a prison-breaker; and, despite the ren10nstrances of his sister Rosa, wife of Feagh O'Byrne, who, with the tenderness of a true woman, besought him to shelter the fugitive fro1n injustice, placed him once 1nore in the gripe of Fitzwilliam. Two more weary years had O'Don­ nell to dree in that cruel dungeon-which, compared to our present prison system, was a sort of paradise-till he n1ade his last escape in 1592. On his wa,y to Glenmalure, he re­ traced his steps over Fassaroe, but cautiously avoi

PART VI. FITZWILLIAMS held the Deputyship, since his 1ast appo1.ntmertt, six years, during whiqh he amassed a large fortune by bribes and cruel extortions. Being recalled, he wassucceeded by Sir vVillia1n Russell, youngest son to the earl of Bsdford, who was sworn in Christ Church towards the close of August, 1594. Russell came to Ireland accompanied by a very brilliant retinue, a1nong the n1ost distinguished of whom was Richard "\Vingfi eld, a scion of that ancient house which had given a priest to the Catholic altar in 1480, and an ambassador to Leo X. in the days of Cardinal Wolsey. The Queen's instructions to her new Deputy charged him to have special care to retain those whom she ca,lled her Irish sub­ jects in their duty to God according to the religion established there by law, and to restrain others from a,dhering to the Pope. Russell was also commanded to confer with Fitzwilliams before the latter left Ireland, and to learn of him how the island migh~ be re(luced to "civility" and religious confor1nity with the lea.st possible charge to her l\'.Ia,jesty's exchequ{II'. In compliance with this order Fitzwilliams drew up for his successor a brief account of the state of the realm as it tlilen stood in the several provinces; fr01n which we collect that Wick­ low, at that ti~e, was regarded as a region far from being con­ quered:- "InLeinster," says the Summary, "Feagh J\IacHugh (O'Byrne) doth still give proof of his former bad intentions, by st::incling aloof and re­ fusing to come in totheState; by adhering to Walter Reagh (,i.e., Walter Fitzgerald, surnamed the brown-haired), his son-in-law, with whom he doth take part, and between whom both they do receive into his c<,untry loose and bad men from all parts of the realm ; by making extraordinary provision of victual:-1, mustering the forces of his country, making pre­ paration of arms and weapon ; and, as it hath been a,d vertised, they both entertain intelligence with the rebels in the North. Therefore we think the said Feagh and "\V,~lter Heagh are traitorously bent. and when opportunity shall serve, will not fail to show themselves." This, indeed, was a wise forecasting; but, as we shall see, the Deputy thought he should be beforehand with O'Byrne and his THE O'TOOLES. 49 followers. Russell being a bookish man, kept a Diary, in which he nofod down current events, with the day and date of hfa movements hither and thither through the country, commencing in June, 1594, and ending May 27, 150'7. This most valuable document enables us to follow him, as it were, step by step in his various progresses through "\:Vick.low, till he co1npassed the death of the great chief of Clan-Ra,nelagh. Under date "Dublin, November 3, 1594:," he writes:-

1' Little done, save some letters written to Feagh MacHugh for some truce upon his desire of going or sending into England." Feagh, however, did not go to England ; for, on the 16th J a nuary (1595), the Diary states :- ,, lVIy lord took a hunting journey to Ballinacor (in Glenmalure) and d_rove Feagh MacHt~gh out of his house into the glen, and placed a gar­ rison there of Captam Street's company." This; indeed, was a noble quarry for a deputy's hunting; but Feagh and his fa1nily escaped by a postern, and saved them­ selves fro1n th@ human hounds that were on their track. Next day Feagh, his wife Rosa O'Toole, Walter Reagh and followers were proclaimed traitors ; and, this clone, Russell proceeded to Newcastle, whereherestedwithSirHenryHa,rrington till the 18th, when he returned to Dublin. On the 19th Street sent in(to Dublin) five of the traitors' heads ; and seven days afterwards Felimy O'Toole was presented by the sheriff of the county Dublin to the constable of the Castle prison, where he was joined by Feagh's porter, or chief warder. But Fen.gh was not umnindfnl of the n1erciless raid on his house in Dallinacor ; for on the night of the 30th, Garret Fitz­ garald ('Valter's brother), with s01ne eighty O'Tooles and O'Byrnes, all eommanded by Feagh in person, swooped down on Orumlin, gave that suburb to the fla,1nes, and carried off the leaden roof of the church there, to run it into bullets in Glenmalure. '1,he light of the conflagration was visible in the city; and "'my '' lord went oiit into Thom,as-street, a·nd cciused the gates to be "opened, and sent horsemen to overtake (but they did not) the "mownta,ineers." Next day there was a privy council, _and Russell determined to n1ake another excursion with a strong 5C THE o'TOOLES, corce to Ballinacor. On the 1st of February he halted with Harrington at Newcastle and the 4th saw him at Ballinacor, where, after throwing up some earthworks, he licensed Har­ rington to parley with Feagh and Walter. '' Harrington met them with horse and foot between two great hills, two miles from the camp." But nothing came of the parley, for the deputy continued fortifying Ba.llinacor fro1n the 6th the 22nd. "On the 7th Russell's foragers 'took a girl who had warned six kernesto eqcape by her cries,' and on searching a house they found a man with a bag of bullets newly molten for the enemy. He was executed. " 9th-Sunday. ~rhe camp continued at Ballinacor, where Mr. Wheeler preached in the forenoon. "10th-Lord Ormond came to the camp-. " 1:1th-:IYiy lord ,went t0 see a pass cut, near the c~mp anc1 a prisoner executed. Certain soldiers ha,ving been belated, took a house [tllU barn to defend themselves, but the enemy fired the house and killed three of our soldiers and two boys. "17th-l\fy lord rode up to Dromkitt, the pass being cut, as his lordship pa~sed ; the strength of the place being reported very great; but my lord thought otherwise. "lSth-1\fy lord rode to Kilcomen to see the pass* cut there, and was met by Lord Ormond. "21st-News from Wyllis and Street that they had driven Walter Reagh from his house at Ballenehorna, and that Gerald, Reagh's brother, Daniel Reerton, one of their chief shot, and another we1·e slain, thei1· heads being b1·ought in. Ormond dined with my lord, after which they 'rode to Ballinaco1· to view the fort.

" 23rd, Sunday-..ll.f1·. 1Vheeler p1·eached, and the canip rose to 1retu'i'n to Dublin, which they reached late on the-following day." Thus ended the second raid on Ballinacor, and thus did Feagh 1naintn,in himself against all the force tlrn,t this truculent Russell was able to bring ag11inst him. Safely lodged in Dublin Castle, "my Lord" re-opens his Diary, and notes down the fol­ lowing incidents :- " March 15 {1595)-.llfr. Phepo's servants bmught in the head of Leo­ na1'd, a follower of Feagh. '":March 25-The heads of Shanellfac DeJ'mot and John Kelly, followers of Fcagh, were brought in. April 5-" My lord and Sir Henry Harrington laid a plot for taking Walter Reagh, and two days afterwards Mr. Montague comes with news that '\Valter was captured. On the 8th he is brought to the Castle. Next day he is exmninell by the Deputy and Council, and sentenced to be hanged in chains." On the 10th he is executed in the Castle court-yard, which at

* Since called "Deputy's Pass." THE O'TOOLES. 51 this time must have looked like the residence of a Turkish Pasha. A sorrowful interest surrounds Walter's capture and death. After being driven out of his house atBallynahorna, his thigh was fractured by stroke of a hammer in an encounter with some of lord Ormond's followers. He was then concealed in a cave in some sequestered place, and consigned to the care of two attendants, who delivered him to Sir Henry Harrington for a consideration. The wretches who did this deed of shame were one Kedogh O'Toole and his brother Dermot. But swift retribution overtook them a few months afterwards ; for they both were murdered by Captain Lee-one of their employers-who got a brief im­ prisonn1ent for the misdemeanour. The executive thought it no crhne to be rid of such execrable villains, whom it flung away after having done its bloody work. The day after Fitzgerald's execution, my Lord, accompanied by Sir H. H:1rrington, lord Howth, and a strong force, set out for Shilelagh, where he pitched his camp (at Money) on the 18th. Here news reached hhn that one of his best lieutenants was slain in rescuing cows at Ballinacor fro1n the Irish enemy; and that Feagh, with his sons and followers, had made an unsuccess­ ful attempt on the fort there. Next day (19th) Willis writes to n1y Lord:- . '' That he had the day before the enemy in cnase from Ballinacor through the glen ; but night falling, could not overtake them, yet forced them to lay their mantles, swords, and targets in the way behind. On the 25th my Lord rode to view Walter's late habitation, when Mr. l~utler brought in the heads of Tirlogh MacCahir O'Toole, Rory Mac• ICeo6h, and others.,, But far· more estimable than dead men's heads was the cap• ture which Harrington n1ade on the 28th, when he brought to the camp Rosa, Feagh's wife, and her sister, who, being ex• a1nined, were sent prisoners to Dublin Castle. Next day the head of Feag~1's piper waa presented to this blood-boltered Russell. The can1p broke up on the 13th l\Iay, and on the 14th my Lord on his march to Dublin halted at Baltinglass to ,vitness the execution of two brothers of the O'Tooles. On the 26th Feagh's 52 I'HE o'TOOLES. wife was arraigned in Dublin Castle and found guilty of high treason. Next day she was sentenced to be burned; but Russell stayed execution. June 18, Russell led a strong army into the North, where he thought he would be able to crush O'Neill and O'Donnell, then in arms. He deceived himself, however ; for, after a very profitless march to· Armagh, he returned to Dublin in the course of a month. In the September following he set out on another expedition of the same sort, but did not go beyond Drogheda, where he tells us he was entertai~1ed by the n1ayor, and had the taking of one Piers Cullen, a priest, whom he sent to prison. Meanwhile, Feagh and his allies, the O'Tooles, ga.ve ample employment to the forces under Street in the fort of Balli­ nacor ; so 111uch so that Sir Henry Harrington was once more empowered to treat with the chieftain for " pardon and pro­ tection." Russell, indeed, was only too anxious to entertain the matter ; for at that juncture, owing to the success of O'Neill's arms, '' Ireland never stood in greater danger of being lost­ " O'Neill being able to march to Dublin gates and no force to re­ " sist him: in no men10ry, either of the living or the dead, was "the state in so great peril~ "-(Sir R. Lane to Lord Burghley.) The negociator for Feagh's surrender was his foster-sister ; and Sir H. Harrington writes that she was authorised by Feagh to promise that he would deliver his eldest son, Tirlogh, to the Deputy, to be hanged, drawn, and quartered, provided his own life was spared. This, however, was not the case ; for O'Sulli­ van, in his '' Historia Ocitholica," gives the true version of the 1natter thus :-" Rosa being a prisoner in Dublin Castle, was ". artfully informed that her stepson, Tirlogh, was about to "betray his father to the executive. She thereon contrived to " warnFeagh, who, believing what he was told, addressed Tirlogh " after this fashion :-~ A father's feelings forbid me to take '''your life ; but I will deliver yon to those to whom you meant " 'to betray me. You shall thus have opportunity to contrast a " 'parent's pity with an enemy's humanity."' Tirlogh, says O'Sullivan, cleared himself of the calumny, died true to his 'l'HE 0 1TOOLES. 53 taith, by abjuring which he might have saved himself, and was bitterly lamented by his deluded father. We are not able to say whether the execution occurred before or after Feagh's surrender; but the Diary states that the latter was received to pardon, November 9 (1595); ancl that on the following day, Richard Wingfield was knighted in Christ Church by his uncle, who comn1ended his services against O'Neill, in an action with whom his elbow was shattered by a bullet. Nine months after the events we have been relating, that is to say on the 10th August (1596), Lieutenant Gream, who was left in charge of the fort at Ballinacor, wrote to Russell that Ifeagh had re·ceived letters from O'Neill, "and that he himself feared to be bnrnt every night.'' Indeed, he had good reason to be apprehensive, for the terms which the government had made with Feagh were shamelessly violated, and the garrison in that accursed fort were night and day plundering and murder­ ing the Irish. Foiled in all his attempts to beat O'Neill in the field or to procure his assassination-for which he engaged the se_rvices of one Fleming of the Catholic house of Slane­ Russell now bethought him that he n1ight make some character for himself by " itnkennelling the old fox of the m,oiintains," as Feagh is styled in the correspondence of the period. He there­ fore on the 9th Septe1nber sent Lieutenant Beeston and some sq uad.rons of horse, with amn1unition for the fort at Ballina­ cor. On reaching the ford at Rathdrum, hard by the spot where the JVIessrs. Oomerfords' mills now stand, the convoy was attacked by a detachment of Feagh's people, who slew divers of the EngFsh and compelled the survivors to save them­ selYes ancl the amn1unition by flight. " Capt::tiu Tncher," says the Deputy, "having sent some of his men to meet the munition, li'eagh, in their absence, ass:1Ulted the fort, took Tucher prisoner, and razed the fort to the ground." On hearing this n1y lord "sent Sergeant-ma~or (Chichester) " with 200 foot and 40 horse to Ballinacor, but at Newcastle, '' hearing that the fort was lost they returned." Connected with the taking of the fort there is an incident which we may not on1it, since it does honour to the n1emory of the gallant Feagh. 54 THE O'TOOLES.

"The place," says Chichester,· "was surrendered after an obstinate defence on promi~e of quarter, and rrucher being brought before Feagh, the latter laid his hand upon his sword, but said he promised his life and would keep his promise." Would Tucher or Russell have acted thus had they got Feagh into their merciless gripe 1 Another incident which occurred at this time shows how uneasy " my lord" and his household felt about their personal safety. " On the 12th Septen1ber," says the Diary, '' the night being windy and dark, between eleven " and twelve of the clock, some cows of Kilmainha1n breaking " out of a bawn, one of the town raised the cry, "':hereat " n1y lord and the household rose, and armed ourselves, sup­ " posing s01ne treachery.'' On the 18th, however, Russell re­ covered fro1n his.- scare, and began his journey to Rathdrum. After halting at Old Court, _near Bray, where he was joined by Sir Edward Yorke, Wingfield, and others, he reached Newrath on the 19th. Next day he was at Rathdrum, where he begari to fortify the church, intending to make it his head quarters. "In the A.N. my lord rode to,vards the woods, and pulled "downsoniehouses fortimber to fortify with, but the rebels lying " close in the ~ood, gave us a volley of shot. Captain Montague " and Garrett Fleming parleyed with Feagh J'.\'.'.[acHugh." Fleming was the villain who had failed to assassinate O'Neill,· and was now employed to try his hand on Feagh. What an associate for a Lord Deputy ! On the 22nd, Russell c:1,nsed rrucher's sergeant to be executed near the en.mp, for yielding th8 fort at Ballinacor, and same day t.\VO soldiers were hanged in Dublin for sa1ne. · " 21th. -About one of the clock in the morning, my lord sent Lee ·with his compa,nies to lodge as far beyond the enemy as he could. J\'.Iy lord rose by break of day with 200 foot and 50 horse, and march~d towards Ba,llinacor. Drawing near the ford, the rebels raised the cry, and made show on the hill by J3a,1linacor, about J 00 strong, besides 60 and upwards of thefr best Rhot, and drew down to the ford to meet us at the bridge. N ot·withstanding they played upon us, our soldiers behaved themselves so well that we drove them from their stand, and passed over the ford with small loss and some hurt. My lord now sent Lee and Street another way into the glen ; and coming to a town of Feagh's, named Farreneeran, they burned it, and returning thence, the rebels skirmished with them about an hour, whilst my lord with his horse stood upon the mountain." Surely we must admire the chivalry of the chief who at THE O'TOOLES . 55

• such long odds set this cruel, pe.culating Russell at defiance, and maintained himself in his fastness against the superior force with which he had to contend. Russell, who merci­ lessly executed eve:ry prisoner that fell into his hands, now di2covered that the army he com1nanded, all its superior equip­ ments notwithstanding, could not crush the O'Byrnes and the O'Tooles, and he accordingly summoned to his aid Lord Ormond, who, October 3, came to the camp with 100 horse and 200 foot, which took up their quarters two miles distant:- " A.bout midnight," says the journal, " my lord sent ou·t John Chi chester and Captain Lee with our foot two separn.te ways into the glen, and by daybreak of the 4th he himself, with fifty horse, rode through part of the glen up the mountains six miles,. where we met Chichester and his company, who had been discovered by the rebels ; and, drawing together on the mountain side, we descried about 100 of the enemy, which showed themselves at the glen side. :My lord, knowing that there would be no service performed without great disadvantage, commanded Chichester to draw .back ; and in returning towards the camp, we saw Captain Lee on the mountain by Ballinacor, with a prey of 300 cows, and stayed there till my lord drew down to the ford to assist him." Having spent a fortnight between Rathdrum and Glenmalure, doing little else but seizing cattle and e-xecuting martial-law, letters fron1 Dublin informed Russell that his presence wt s , insta.ntly required there. He accordingly departed, (8th Oc­ tober), leaving the camp at Rathdrum under the command of the Sergeant-Major (Chichester), who went on with the fortifica­ tion. A 1neeting of the Privy Council was held on Russell's arrival, and it was then proposed that Feagh should be protected and the Deputy restrained. This done, the country 1night be saved : but if not Feagh "would ruin the whole pale, which had been burned to the Boyne." Another and n1ore cogent reason for con1ing to terms with Feagh was a declaration lately made by O'Neill, "that he will keep no peace unless Feagh be pardoned," and-worst of all-" that he (O'Neill) was about to send 600 1nen " under one of the O'I-Iagans by sea to Arklow, whence they "could easily enter Glenmalure." Russell, however, and his immediate dependents gave deaf ear to such arguments, for he and they were opposed to any settlement by which their personal profit n1ight be lessened if not wholly destroyed. The knaves

'[ 56 THE o'TOOLES. who urged Russell to continue the mountain war were influenced by selfish motives, for their constant prayer was that the Irish might be wholly extirpated, and their lands given to "civilised'' Englishmen. "The 16th (October), the Deputy returned to the camp at Rathdrum, where a few clays afterwards he was joined by Sir John North and Sir· John Bowles, with th()ir foot con1panies, each 100 strong. This reinforcement was all the more welcome since Russell was apprehensive of the appearances of the Ulster­ men under O'Hagan. On the 23rd, Captain Lee, returning to the camp with a prey of 80 cows, was fought with by the rebels at the ford of Ballinacor, but was saved by the timely presence of my lord. 11;- this action Lee and the Deputy sustained co1 • siderable loss. On the night of the 30th, Chichester _and Lee were sent out, and on Sunday, the 31st, by break of day my lord went with his company of horse, and 1net them returning with 300 cows, and had the killing of 8 of the rebels, the chief -of whom was Oahir Glasse O'Toole." · "November 2nd.-Sir Henry Bagnall can1e to the camp, and same day Phelim Mac Feagh's foster-brother was brought in prisoner. Next day he was executed.''· "13th. -The fort at Rathdrum was reinfo1·ced by other com• panies, and next day the camp moved fro111 Rathdrum to Boylie­ Boy, the entry into the mciin g lynnes." "15th.-Ohichester and Lee entered the glen before day. By daylight his lordship drew to the north side of Glen-1\Ialure with his company of horse, and some shot which he thrust into the Glynnes, and returned to the camp.'' "16th.-In consequence of heavy rains the ca111p was raised; and we 111arched over the bridge of Ballinacor, and through two ·_ bad passes to Rasthane,* near Glan Lurken, where mv lord executed a base son and follower of Feagh's." " 17th.-My lord marched to Hacketstown, and thence ·to · Naas, where he was joined on the 29th by the Earl of Kildare, with whom he rode to Dublin." Thus terminated Russell's third invasion of the country of the *Now Rasahane ; the burial place of the O' Byrnes of Ballymanus. THE O'TOOLES.

O'Byrnes, whose grand old chief (for he had then reached hi8 seventieth ·year) was; as yet, unsubdued, notwithstanding open .. warfare in the field, and the many attempts made by the Deputy to con1pass his assassination. Among the most trusted of his confederates was Barnaby O'Toole, son of Luke, who stood by him in all his vicissitudes, and by his staunch fidelity and bravery wiped out the stain accidenta,lly cast on hh sept by two traitors who, as we have seen, got the reward which was due to their infa,n1ous services.

PART VII. TWELVE days after my lord's arrival in the metropolis, letters from Captain Montague, whom he lefli at Ballinacor, announced '' That Captain Thomas Lee, in coming from Wicklow with provisions for the fort at Rathdrum, was s-.:t upon at a ford a mile from the fort by ]fea·ih ]Ylac Hugh, but with the help of some horsemen killed thirty of the rebels, among whom were Morris Dubh, Feagh's nephew and Secre­ tary, and Edmond :Mac Shane, his uncle. Next day," says the Diary, " Captain Lee sent in seventeen traitors' heads." This constant procuring of Irish heads induces one to suppose that my lord 1nust have had special taste for the study of crani­ ology. If he had, there were skulls enough in Dublin Castle to enlarge his knowledge in this department. There was, however, one for which he woulcl have bestowed n10re than knighthood on any inhuman scoundrel who was lucky enough to hack it off. But long for it as he 1ni.ght, this insatible ogre was doomed to experience a dis,1ppointment which we may suppose was s01newhat mitigated when he learnt tlrnt Barnaby O'Toole, of Castle-Kevin, had given up the ghost quietly in Feagh's camp, on the 17th January, 1597. The death of this faithful ally was a sore blow to Foagh, and calculated to dis­ courage hiin, if his heart had not been nf that stern, unyielding type which, cfospite injustice, envy, 1nalice, and all the other developments of vulgar n1inds, is conscious of a self-sustaining power that even in death enables it to l-ive down the worst efforts of tyranny.

N 58 1:HE o'TOOLES.

At this period Russell had fallen into disgrace with Elizabeth, for she could not forgive him for not having long since crushed the northern earls and stamped out their ''rebellion." But what pained her most of all was that he had been wasting the re­ sources of England in a petty war with a mountain chief, who presun1ed to defy her power, ana, up to the present, had baffied , 2ome of her most tried captains in the field, and all attempts n1ade by paid hirelings to assassinate him. Russell, moreover, was thwarted by so1ne of his ablest officials, who were constantly deprecating his conduct, and labouring to persuade Cecil, then Prime Minister, that he was unfit for the place he held, and very likely to jeopardise English rule in Ireland. He himself, it appears, was at this juncture anxious for his recall, and probably would have urged it, if he and the parasites which crop up in luxuriance about people in high station, had not been in­ tent '' on a co11,rse of ga,,in," that they hoped to secure by bribes, extortions, and robberies. Then, even 1nore than now, land was the question; and as for religion, it was nothing more than a "cry" employed by knaves and hypocrites for personal aggran­ dizernent. Russell, however, bethought him that he should make some show of work for his salary, and we will let the Diary tell what he did. "February 19, (15D7).-My lord began his journey to Car­ "Iow, which he reached on the 20th. He lay with Mr. Har­ ,' poole at the Castle there, and next day had the taking of a "seminary priest for saying Jviass at Leighlin-bridge. On the '' 22nd Lee came from Rathdrum, and certified that he had "taken 200 cows and fifty horses from Feagh MacHugh. '' We need hardly suggest that this '' taking " is a euphuism for robbing. A few days afterwards rny lord marches to Tullow, and thence to H acketstown. rrhe 3rd Ma,rch finds him making an excursion " Over the mountains to Fa.rreneeran, and thence over the briclge at B:1llh 1,cor. On the 4th • he proceedi, (from B·1,llin:10or) into the deepest bottom of the Glynne -with carria,ges, where his lordship dined.' . Ifere, the Diary informs us, '' his lordship was shown the place where Sir Peter Carew was slain in Lord Grev's time." and THE O'TOOLES. 59 here, with the 1nemory of that defeat before him, "he knighted John Chichester," little thinking that Sir John within less than a year was to have his head hacked off by Ja1nes M'Donnell (afterwards Earl of Antrim) near Carrickfergus.* The pleasant dinner party over, '' my lord returned another way through the " GJynne, up a mighty rock t and bad pass, which, God be '' thanked, with n1uch ado we £afely passed to our camp at Far­ " reneeran. " After this flying visit to Glenmalure, Russell returned to Car­ low on the 5th, and while there had the satisfaction of receiving '' the head of Cahir Glasse O'Byrne, of Feagh's sept," brought in by those indefatigable collectors, Captains l\!Iontague and Richard Greemes. On the 13th news came from Dublin that 140 barrels of gunpowder lying at the crane had exploded, blow­ ing up 1nany houses, and killing many people. "My lord " reached the capital on the 15th ; and the day following Felim '' O'Toole brought in one head and took Tirlogh O'Ryrne, one "of Feagh's followers, prisoners." Who was this Felim ? Was it he of Powerscourt 1 There is strong reason for supposing th:tt it was no other. His refusal to shelter young O'Donnell when he escaped from the Castle, seven years before, and the alacrity with which he detained the poor fugitive for the Governn1ent, make us· think that we have not mistaken his identity. Then, again, the Diary does not state that Russell ever visited Powerscourt, as he certainly would have done, had Felim been "in rebellion, or leagued with O'Byrne. Need we add that the Inquisitions would not have suppressed the fact had Felim served with his brother Barnaby 1 Finally, is it not lamentably true that there never yet was an Irfah revolt which did not present two or n1ore members of the

* "Many years afterwards, in .J atnes' time," says Lodge, "MacDonnell going one day to view the Chichester monument in St. Nicholas' Church, Carrickfergus, .and seeing Sir John's statue thereon, asked I How the de'll he cam to get his head again, for he was sure he had ance ta'en it frae him.' " +Th~ hu()'e rock that excited the Deputy's astonishment is· called in Irish Ca1·r~-ig-u1'tna, i.e., the rock •Of the winding path. It stands on the left of l\!Ir. If ogarty's excellent hotel, close by the pass of Bally­ boy, mentioned in the Diary. 60 THE O'TOOLES.

same sept ready and willing to cut some kinsman's throat for the enemy's good 1 It is idle to throw the entire blame on the latter, since Irish1nen accepted their bribes and did their work vicariously to their own undoing.

" Ever when a chieftain rallied, Shunned him half his selfish peers ; Ever when high truth was si,oken, Prudent traders stopped their ears." A short time after Felim 0'Toole had given such energetic proof of his loyalty, Mr. Masterson, the Diary tells us, brought in the heads of twelve of Feagh's followers, and committed to Wexford jail seven of his adherents. This occurred about the middle of April, when Russell was engaged plotting how he might come at Feagh's head. But why, it will be asked, was Feagh inactive when Russell paid that flying visit to Glenmalure. Sin1ply because O'Neill had appointed a conference with Sir John Norris, to be held on the last day of May, when he was to make terms for Feagh which would have caused the English troops to be withdrawn from Rathdrum, and given to the chieftain ample securities for the quiet possession of his country. 0 'Neill, as we have already said, would ac­ cept no peace that did not guarantee the personal safety and respect the rights of the then most formidable of the Leinster chieftains. '' Send," wrote O'Neill to the latter, upon the 17th April, " your wife Rose, or any '' other messenger to the meeting to be held with the lord Ge­ " neral (Norris) to settle a peace for you." But Russell thought as he was about to resign the gover1iment to lord Burgh, that it would be impolitic not to cut off '' such a cankered traitor'' as Feagh; and he doubtless persuaded hiinself that he 1night, as it were, break his own fall from power by compassing the murder of one of O'N eill's ablest allies. Then again, 1night he notregain Elizabeth's favour by sending her Feagh's head before he himseif appeared in London? Her Majesty was a strong­ minded won1an, and rather liked such ghastly trophies. There was, however, only one way oi getting it, and Russell lit on it by bribing one of Feagh's followers who was thoroughly ac- THE o'TOOLES. 61

quainted with the chieftain's "lurking places.'' In the techni­ cal language of the time, this suborning one Irishman to betray another was styled '' securing a draught;" but the name of the individual employed by Russell is carefully suppressed in his ac­ count of this bloody business. "May 6, (1597)," says the Diary, "my lord sat in the Castle chamber, where Captain Norris's cause was heard, who was adjudged (for speak­ ingmost heinous speeches against her Majesty's person) to be brought to the pillory with a paper on his head declaring his offence. and there to ' lose both his ears, to pay £500 Irish for a fine, and to endure perpetual imprisonment. At the same sitting widow Hope wa8 fined £200 Irish and imprisoned for the escape of the Nugents from Mullingar Jail." Having given the captain this goodly lesson on the manage­ ment of the tongue and taught the widow that the name she bore is often the synonyn1e of bitter disappointment, my lord " Set out on his last journey towards the glynnes, in prosecution of Fea.gh, and rode to Rathdrum, where the foot companies met him on the night of the 7th." '' 8th Sunday-'' Early in the morning"-(Doubtless before the inde­ fa,tigable Mr. Wheeler had preached)--" our foot entered the glen, and fell into that quarter where Feagh lay; and coming several ways nn him, it pleased God to deliver him into our hands, being so hardly followed as that he was run out of breath, and forced to take a cave where one Milbourne, sergeant to Captain Lee, first lighted on him, and the fury of our soldiers was sogreat as he could not be brought away alive; there­ upon the said sergeant cut off Feagh's head with his own sword and pre­ sented his head to my lord, which with his carcass was brought to Dublin, to the great comfort and joy of all that province. Many of his followers were slain, and 200 cows were taken with great pillage, which was divided among the soldiers. My lord returned to Rathdrum, and there before the fort knighted Sir Calisthenes Brooke and Sir Thomas Maria Wingfield." . Such is the account Russell's journal gives of the capture and slaughter· of Feagh, who, there can be no doubt, was taken by surprise, and at. a time when he was living in a state of armed neutrality. But as every incident associated with this atrocity must interest those who visit Glenmalure, and may yet be of use to some one able to produce a historical novel on the subject, we subjoin a few extracts from letters written by Russell and one of his officers almost im1nediately after Feagh's death. The Deputy rode to Dublin on the 9th, and four days after­ wards penned the following despatch to the Privy Council :- " At length it pleased God, though not so soon as I wished or ex­ pected, to deliver into my hands the old traitor Feagh. • . So happily 62 THE cl.rooLES. hath it succeeded, as plotting my course here for the cutting of him off, I lately drew in person to the glens for effecting the same, and there in the place of his greatest hopes, he wrs lighted upon and slain to the uni• versal rejoicing of all. My desire was great to compass him alive, but the fury of the soldiers prevented me." The day before this despatch was written Sir W. Stanley, an eye-witness of the transaction, sent his version of it to Cecil:- " The Deputy having secured a draught upon Feagh by one of his own followers, marched from Rathdrum, and upon Sunday morning the guide played his part so well, that some of the soldiers were presently brought upon him in his cabin, where he was hidden with three or four sworn men, who were all slain with himself. This was the end of an enemy more dangerous and hurtful to the Pale than all the rebels in Ireland; but whatever the cause is, I know not, the people have their hearts so hardened towards us, that none rejoiceth at any good service done. Therefore, in my judgment, the State is in no small danger, and out of the 7,000 men the Queen has here, 4,000 are Irish! How dangerous it is to train them up in the use of arms, when they may turn the p~ints of their swords into our bosoms." Feagh's head, after being impaled at Dublin Cttstle, was sent to London to be exhibited to the Queen, but her Majesty, instead of being· gratified by this evidence of Russell's zeal, signified "her high displeasure at such a present, sent with so n1uch of vain parade." As for the carcass, Russell, it is said, had it hung by the heels, and then cut in quarters and spiked. In this condition it was seen by M 'l{eogh, one of Feagh's bards, whose pathetic dirge, still preserved in the Leabhcir B·rana.ch, or '' Book of the O'Byrnes," we will turn into English when these papers shall have been collected in a volume. "lVIay 15 (continues the Diary)-HThe Lord Burgh landed and came to Dublin, where he was invited to supper at the 1\'Iayor's after which his lordship went to his lodging, at St. ldary's Abbey, then Sir George Bourchier's house.* '' 16th-Five heads of Feagh's followers were sent in, and that night my lord removed from the Castle to lie at Mr. Usher's house, at the bridge-foot, whereby the Castle might be made ready for the Lord ~~ . " 19th-Sir John Chichester sent in the heads of one Conor O'Kennedy and f:ieven others of Feagh's followers. "22nd-The Lord Chancellor (Archbishop Loftus) preached, and

-i<· This Cistercian Con vent, founded 948, like many others, was, after the dissolution, preserved for public assemblages and residence for the Deputies. A portion of its beautiful cloister, still existing, is now used as a corn-store. · TIIE o'To )LES. 63

after. the sermon my lo!d del~vere~l the sword to Lord Burgh in St. Patrwk's Church, and clmecl with him at St. 1\ifary's Abbey. _ "26th-lVIy lord departed from DulJEu, and the day following landed at Ormshead, in '\Vales." Thus ter1ninated the g0vernment of one of the worst De­ puties this country has ever seen. He returned to England with a well-filled purse made by bribes, pillage, and every species of extortion; £or from the outset of his deputyship he was "bent on a course of gain." His c1utUng off O'Byrne was not so much his work as that of the villain whose services he employed; but, as we shall see, neither of them achieved n1ore than a temporary triumph over that sept. His, indeed, was an inglorious warfare ; and for many an age after he had passed away, the dwellers in the glen had good reason to heap maledictions on his name. Reader, if this very in1perfect sketch of Russell's doings should prompt you to· visit the sublime scenery of Glenmalure (not half as well known as it deserves to be), you will bear in n1ind that Lord Grey was de­ feated thel'e by Feagh O'Byrne, August 25, 1580 ; that it afforded shelter to the chivalrous Hugh O'Donnell and his friend O'IIagan in 1592; and that Lord Willian1 Russell and his cut-throats fired its homesteads and assassinated its chief in 1597. The stern physiognomy of the region is little changed since Russell's clay. The gigantic rock that excited his wonder- .., ment still frowns on the passer ; the waterfa,ll has not ceased to pour its silvery volume down the deep, dark gully; the once fishf ul river still flows on its peaceful course ; the everlasting hills-Nature's lords, scathed by lightning and tempest-still answer to their Celtic titles; and the trunks of mighty oaks often turn up to show that they once flourished there in con­ genial soil. It is, indeed, a spot worthy a long pilgrin1age ; but what would all its grand features be if we could not asso­ ciate with them memorable facts and inciL1ents of n10re than romantic interest 1 On his return to London Russell was forbidden the Court be­ Jause he did not arrest O'Neill when that personage presGnted himself in Dublin . a few days after the former had been sworn 1n. This however, was but a pretext, for the true cause of the 64 THE O'TOOLES. royal displeasure was· Russell's incapacity and the failure of all his attempts to break the power of the northern "rebels." The '' cutting off" Feagh O'Byrne was at best an ignoble exploit, for his two sons, Felim and Reymond, had sworn to avenge their father's murder, and betaken them to O'Neill, who promised to send 1,000 of his followers into the glens of Wicklow. There Cahir, or Charles O'Toole, son of Barnaby, deceased, still kept the hills with a remnant of Feagh's sept, despite the effor:ts of Capt~in Lee, who was commissioned to reduce the who:a country, and, if_possible, obliterate the very name of O'Byrne. This, however, was more easily said than done ; for before the summer had closed Feagh's sons with their Ulster allies re­ appeared in the' glens and repossessed themselves of their old territory. This was a sore blow to Lord Burgh, who was then preparing for his northern campaign and had written to the English cabinet, "I will, God willing, stick to Tyrone, "and, if need be, will lie on the ground and d1rink water ten '' weeks, unless sooner blessings fall on my labours." This, as the sequel proved, was an idle boast, for Burgh was not destined to live half the time he meant to devote to total abstinence from wine and usquebagh. Having mustered his army about the 1niddle of July in Drogheda, where he was joined by Henry earl of I(ildare and many other Irish maintainers of the Queen's Govern1nent, he marched rapidly into Tyrone, razed a fort that O'Neill had erected on the Blackwater, and then proceeded to meet the "arch-traitor," who had taken up a position at Drum-Fluich, in the vicinity of Benburb. Here the two armies met, and after a brisk combat, which O'Neill himself tells us was nothing but a skirmish, Lord Burgh was unhorsed and sorely wounded. His kinsman, captain Vaughan, who had distinguished himself ~.mong the pillagers of Glenma­ lure, was killed on the field, and the Earl of Kildare being dis­ mounted owed his escape to the O'Hickeys, his foster-brothers, who lost their lives in saving his. The vaunting Deputy was utterly discomfited and died of his bruises and vexation in Newry on the 13th August ; and the Earl of I(ildare gave up the ghost in Drogheda about the sa·ne tiine, his death being caused, we THE O'TOOLES. 6/l

are told, by excessive grief for his faithful foster-brothers. Burgh's deputyship was very brief and his career eminently dis­ astrous to the prestige of the English power in Ireland. On his decease Sir Thomas Norris, Con1missioner for hearing Causes in Chancery, was sworn Deputy, August 30, 1597. Norris had hardly been installed when the Privy Council sitting in Dublin Castle began to consider how the O'Dyrnes and the O'Tooles might be made amenable to justice. This grave m1itter being referred to Captain Lee, he reported that he was ,Yilling, if en­ couraged or in other words promised a share of the O'Byrne country, to attempt the " cutting off" Feagh's sons. Being an expert in matters of this sort, the executive entertained his pro­ posal, andflatteredhishopes. Feagh's widow, respited by Russell, after being some time at large was now re-arrested, and com-

1 mitted prisoner to Dublin Castle by Lee, who thought that he would be able to use her for his bloody purposes. The unfor­ tunate woman, it appears, was detested by her own children for the false information which consigned her stepson, Tirlogh, to the gallows ; and if we can believe Lee, she hated Felim and Reymond immeasurably. '' Great means," he writes, October, 1597, "are now offered, as Feagh's wife is again a prisoner, and "she has offered, if she had her liberty, and afterwards pardon, " to draw such a draught upon Feagh's sons and followers that "I shall have the killing of them all. The Deputy has stayed "her execution, at 1ny request, for a thne, which I hope will '' be to good purpose, otherwise I wish not her life." There is no record of blacker villany than this, which equals anything we read of lVIedea ; but it 1nust be remen1bered that the man who tempted the unhappy prisoner with hope of pardon and liberty, provided she helped him to slay her own children, was one of those who came to Ireland to diffuse Gospel-light, and reclaim idolatrous Papists to true religion. The project, ho,v­ ever, did n9t prosper, nor have we been able to ascertain how or where Rosa ended her miserable days. In the glen wherEfshe once kept the state of an Irish princess her 1nemory has entirely faded out; and the only one who preserved even a hazy tradition of her, was an aged wonu111 who, many years 6G THE o'TOOLES.

ago, told the writer that there once lived there a powerful lady named Rossha, who had only to put on her red mantle to fill the whole district with fire and blood. Pretern1itting further notice of this miscreant, Lee, who could murder so stealthily and with safe conscience, we will now let Sir Thomas Norris and his council tell us something of Feagh's sons and their doings, as detailed in a Report made for the English Privy Council, 5th November, 1597: - " In Leinster and the English Pale the garboils are greater than ever. , It. was thought that by the cutting off Feagh they would have collie to an end, but the quarrels have been renewed by his two sons. They have been with Tyrone all the last summer, and have wrought him to send forces with them into Leinster under the conduct of sundry chief lords to the number of 600 and· upwards, divided and sorted into shot and pikes. These have of late committed sundry burnings in Leix, Offaly, and in some part near Dublin where they have done several hurts upon the subjects, and especially upon the English, whom they sought principally to expel out of their dwellings in Leinster as the other rebels in Ulster and Connaught have done. . . . . Whereby it is apparent that this great rebellion in Ireland is a mere Irish war, followed upon the English of purpose to root them out. To these are adherent sundry of these Irish families in Leinster, as the O'Mores, Cavanaghs, the Birnes, and some of the O'Tooles." · It would be superfluous to offer any comment on t11e monstrous lies which this Report sought to ventila,te. The Irish, whether in Ulster or in the Wicklow glens, were simply bent on 1naintaining their own, in a word, struggling for the land whjch had belonged to their fathers for immemorial years· To drive the1n out was the t,bject of the rapacious adventurers who volunteered their services in Ireland, and whose begging letters invariably wound up with a hope that the day was not far off when the savage natives shonld be extirpated and replaced by honest and civil·ised snbjects, such as Lee, and others, whose virtues entitled thein to the Queen's gracious favours.

PART VIII.

UPON the death of Lord Burgh, Sir Thomas Norris was elected Lord Justice (October 29, 1597), but discharged from that office ~n the following month, when the govern1nent devolved on Loftus, schismatic archbishop of Du'@lin, and Sir Robert Gardiner. The latter being a lawyer, and the former, by reason of his office, a man of peace, who ought not meddle with the THE O'TOOLES. 67

"carnal weapon," Thon1as earl of Ormond was appointed their coadjutor, as Lieutenant-General and ·captain of the arrn.y. Meanwhile the success of ·O'N eill's arms was such that the English cabinet instructed Ormond to treat with the '' arch rebel," and make such concessions as might incline him to peace. O'Neill was not averse to any fair accommodation, but the terms on which he consented to sheath the sword must have greatly astonished archbishop Loftus. On the 21st December h.e signified to Ormond -that there was no chance of agreen1ent unless "all the inhabitants of Ireland may ·have free liberty of "conscience, and that her Tuiajesty withdraw her garrisons "from Tyrone, and all other parts of the Irishry." The day after Ormond received this communication, he proposed to O'Neill articles of an eight weeks' truce, which stipulated that the latter " should call out of Leinster all such of Ulster as were ·' sent thither by his direction, and suffer none of them to re­ " main there or in the English pale during the truce." To this O'Neill assented, but with a proviso, '' that if any of "them do stay with them of Leinster, contrary to my corn­ '' mandment, they be used no otherwise than as they be with '' whom they ren1ain ; and that none now depending on my truce " be received or entertained by the Lieutenant-General or the ",State during this truce without my consent." We need hardly remark that Ormond would not have begged the with­ drawal of the Ulster allies of the O'Byrnes had he himself been able to expel them from the glens of Wicklow; nor is it neces sary to observe that O'Neill required for Felim and Rey111ond a full and unqualified participatioR in all the benefits that might accrue to himself from the suspension of arms. A single act of hostility to them would be resented as though committed against hirnself ; and as those who tarried with the O'Byrnes were to be used no otherwise than themselves, it is very clear that instead of sanctioning their retiremeDt he rather discountenanced it, for reasons then known to none but himself. This clever diplomacy left the O'Byrnes and the O'Tooles in possession of their lands, but did not n1ake the1n forget all they had suffered during Russell's bloody raids. Rath- 68 THE o'TOOLES. drum was relieved of the English garrison, and as for Ballina• cor, no blue-coated* soldier of my Lord Ormond's troops was tc be seen there. The Queen, indeed, was well pleased with he1 Lieutenant's conduct ; and instead of urging him to prosecutE the chief tribe of Wicklow, suggested that he should see they were not molested in their persons or estates. Her letter tc Ormond on this subject, although written in defiance of delicat€ sentiment and expression, shows that she was constrained to ap­ prove his policy, and pretend a manifestation of graciousness to those whom a short time previously she strove to extirpate. Writing to Ormond, December 29, she says-'' Where we do "find that the offals left of Feagh MacH1tgh and other rebels " [ the O'Tooles] near the Pale do dci-ily infest gvod subjects and '' distract those forces which should be otherwise employed ; we '' are content and do hereby give yo11, aiithority to take all siwh "into ou,r mercy and, to give them our pardon." With what haughty scorn must Feagh's sons have read such a 1nessage as this which Ormond, doubtless, communicated to them ! Pardon !-and for what 1 for having endeavoured to save their father from assassins paid by the Queen's De­ puty, their lands from spoliation, their independent rights, and even their personal existence, from extinction. None knew better than they did that the Queen was cajoling them, and that they were now in a position to dictate tern1s to her Lieutenant-General. Little cared they for the Queen or her hollow offers of conciliation ; their entire dependence was now on O'Neill, and at his word they were ready to carry fire and sword across the English border. On the expiration of the eight weeks' truce, Ormond was authorised by the Queen to grant her pardon to O'Neill pro­ vided he complied with the following conditions :- " 1. That he make his personal submission to you in public. 2. That he renounce all confederacy with the Irish. 3. 'rhat he renounce the name of O'Neill. 4. That he dispose all his forces, and send out of the

* After Lord Grey's defeat in Glenmalure, where the red coats of the soldiers made them an easy mark for the '' rebels," blue cloth was worn by the English army serving in Ireland.-See " Hamilton's Calendar of the S. P., Ireland," 1574-1585. rHE o'TOOLES. 69 realm all Scots and oth'?.r hired strangers. 5. That he have nothing to do with our uriaghts' (subordinate lords). 6. That he deliver to you the sons of Shane O'Neill, to be sent to the Castle of Dublin, from whence they escaped. 7. Tha,t he contribute to the rebuilding of the fort .,,,,1 bridge of the Blackwater, that our garrison 1::e continued there without danger. 8. That he tell you t:culy how tar he ha,th proceeded with tatj Spaniards, and that he renounce all such dealings. 9. That he suffer a. sheriff in 'l,yrone. 10. Th1it he put in his eldest son for a pledge, and resort, as other lords of Ireland used to do, to the Council at Dublin." To these were addecl some other articles which her Majesty was ready to waive, provided O'Neill accepted the for1ner. But he refused to subscribe any of then1, conscious as he was then of the weakness of English power in Ireland, and the discredit that must for ever attach to his name if he were to betray his confederates, or break with the friendly Spaniard who sent him arms and ammunition, and provided Irish ecclesiastics with book and board when they were proscribed in their own coun­ try. In vain did Ormond urge him to accept the '' gracious pardon;" and in vain did he pron1ise, on her Majesty's behalf, that the Irish should have all Ulster, north fron1 Dunclalk, without sheriffs, tribute, or hostages. The docun1ent that held out this liberal concession was dated April, 1598, when O'Neill was preparing to blockade the English fort (Potn1or), on the Blackwater. Two months afterwards messengers from O'Neill arrived in Glenmalure, and commanded Felim and Reymond O'Byrne, with the O'Tooles, to fall upon the Pale, ancl assist the O'Moores, who w~re besieging the English garrison in Marybo­ rough. They pron1ptly obeyed the summons, and, after wasting the country to the gates of Dublin, proceeded to join the O'Moores, with whom they routed the Lieutenant-General, in an action which cost him the loss of a large force, and the life of his own nephew. Bewildered by this unexpected reverse, Ormond fled to Kilkenny and fortified himself there. In July, O'Neill failed to take Portmor owing to his want of a seige-train; but he in­ vested the place in the hope of starving the garrison into a surrender. Ormond now applied to the English cabinet for ' a fresh supply of troops, as the contingent at his disposal barely sufficed to save Dublin from falling into the hands of the moun- THE o'TOOLES. tain septs, who threatened it north and south of the Liffey. The all but utter hopelessness of English rule in Ireland at this crisis is best de~cribed in Orn1ond's own words :-

" The times," he says, " are more miserable than ever before. If our wants be not speedily supplied, the whole kingdom will be overthrown. The garrisons at this moment are ready to starve : the soldiers run away daily, though I have hanged many of them in the maritime townf:." At length tlie desired reinforcements arrived, and it was decided that one body of the1n should proceed to the Wick­ low mountains, while the other marched against O'Neill. Ormond, it was hoped, would take command against the latter ; but the Council thought that the fittest person for that post was Henry Bagnal, because he bore a deadly hatred to O'Neill, who had 1narried his sister. '\Vhile Bagnal was on his march northwards, th0 O'Byrnes, O'Tooles, and Cavanaghs gave ample employment to the detach­ ments sent against them; but the latter. were speedily re­ called to protect Ormond, then shut up in Kilkenny. Mean­ while, O'Neill had utterly routed Bagnal's army at the Yellow Ford on the 14th August, and achieved the most signal victory ever won by Irish arms on Irish soil :-

" Since the English," writes Camden, " first set foot in Ireland they never received a greater overthrow, thirteen stout captains being slain, :i.nd 1,500 of the common soldiers, who being scattered by a shameful flight all the fields over, were slain and vanquished by the enemy. This was a glorious victory for the 'rebels,' and of special ad­ vantage, for hereby they got both arms and provisions, and Tiroen's name was cried up all over Ireland as the author of their liberty."

The announcement of Bagnal's defeat, which reached Dublin next day, gave Loftus' archiepiscopal nerves a shock, the like of which he had never before experienced ; and as for Gardiner, his colleague, nothing could exceed his vexation .. The former thought that O'Neill would once more '' bring 1n Pope and Popery ;'' and as for the latter, it occurred to him that he must vacate his post of Chief Justice for some of O'Neill's judges, mayhap an O'Hagan, then Justiciary of Tyrone and deeply learned in Brehon law. It was a terrible crisis for both, THE o'TOOLES. as will be seen by a few passages from their joint-despatch of the 17th:- " The Leinster rebels [the O'Byrnes and O'Tooles] being exceedingly increased, are daily burning and spoyling the country, having possessed themselves of all the Queen's county called Leix, the rabble of them being now, by this disastre, so encouraged that they do now, without con­ trolment, what they list. A great part of the county Kildare they have spoyled and burnt ; and daily advertisements we have of their entrance into the county of Dublin and of their purpose to make head even to this city ; to which God knoweth they may make an easy approach. . . . We have no means left us to help ourselves, and the remnant of her ifa­ jesty's poor subjects here: only this, we beseech the Almighty God so to stir up the heart of our gracious sovereign as at length she will behold onr miseries with the eyes of compassion." Such was the condition of Dublin at this momentous period, when, had O'Neill been so disposed, he n1ight have seized it by sending word to the O'Byrnes and the O'Toole~ · to try their pikes on the 700 paunchy burghers comn1issioned by the Lords Justices '' to stay the mountaineers." And, indeed, _it would have been an easy victory f0r the latter, since the "citizen soldiers," levied for the occasion, preserved bitter traditions of Cullen's-wood and had less heart than midriff. O'Neill, how­ ever, for reasons assigned in '' The Flight of the Earls," spared the 1netropolis, and thus balked the 1nountaineers, who were only too anxious to sack it and, perhaps, lay violent hands on Loftus, whose burning of O'Hurly, archbishop of Cashel, was still fresh in their me1nories. Meanwhile the O'Byrnes and O'Tooles had to look after their harvests, and repair the damage their country sustained from the frequent raids of the English troops. This gave them an1ple employment during the re­ mainder of the su1nmer, but did not prevent them making pre- 1 paration to act in concert with O'Neill whenever he n1ight call for their aicl. A strong army, n1ustered in England, was to be landed on the Irish shores, and the Queen determined that the command should be given to her prime favourite, Robert, Earl of Essex, who was sworn Lord Deputy, April 15, 1599. The In­ structions given by the Queen charged him to end the '' re­ bellion" speedily, for she burned to retrieve the disaster of the Yellow-Ford, and get rid of O'Neill with the least possible delay, either byciitting kirn offor forcing him to come in on terms. 72 THE o'TOOLES

The ar1ny with which Essex was to effect this, says the docu­ ment we have quoted, "was paid, furnished, and provided in other sort than any king of this land hath done before;" and with such a powerful force at his disposal there could be little doubt that "his diligence, faith, and wisdom," would realise the Sovereign's hopes. The ar1ny and people, continue the in­ structions- " Are to be instructerl and contained in the true exercise and service of God. The great infection of Popery is so spread over the kingdom, as it is most true that even in time of peace (and within the Enidish Pale) multitudes of parishes have had neither incumbents nor te.:tchers, and in the very g-ood towns of assembly not only recusancy allowed but massings and idolatry winked at and tolerated. Call the bishops and ecclesiastical ministers to account for it." Then again he was charged to keep a sharp eye on the Irish, who enlisted in the English ranks, and after a course of training deserted .to the "rebels," rather than slay their own blood and kindred. " Our bands have been continually filled up with Irishry in such sort as commonly the third person in any one band hath not been English, and the Irish have run away with their arms to the traitor. The Irish have thus been enablP.rl to wit.l1strtnd our forces, and even to beseige and take from us our castles and for~s." Touching O'Neill, Essex was authorised to grant him the royal pardon '' 1u,pon his simple submission;" but if he refused, that "I-Ie was to be taken in upon such conditions as should be found good and necessary for our honour and safety of that kingdom." Immediately after his arrival Essex drew up a Report on the state of Ireland, which informs us that in the county of Dublin the mountain rebels, with other Irish septs, were in actual re• . hellion : their strength 500, whereof 200 horse ; and that Ulster was all in revolt, while little or no reliance could be placed on the Irish septs of :Munster. But the army sent to quell the four provinces consisted of 16,000 foot and 2,000 horse, all choice troops, that had seen service in the Spanish Netherlands. With a division of this force, '7,000 foot and 900 horse, Essex proceeded southwards, and was set upon by Oweny 0'1\1:oor, one of O'Neill's Leinster Lieutenants, near Croshy Du.ff hill, THE O'TOOLES. 73 where he lost five hundred men, with captains Boswell and Gardiner. Thenceforth that· narrow gap has been called " Barnagletty," i.e., the pass of Feathers, because the Queen's horsemen were shorn of their finest plumes there. After be­ sieging Cahir, Essex marched to Limerick, and thence to Askeaton, till.. he reached the neighbourhood of Waterford, 21st June, 1599. This ostentatious parade through the south, contrary to the orders he had received, cost Essex very considerable loss; for when he re-appeared in Dublin, Camden tells us, '' The soldiers were wearied, sickly, and their number n1ore than "a man could believe diminished, whereby the Queen was " very ill satisfied and much troubled at this expedition." But there was something more to ruffle her Majesty's temper when she received despatches informing her that Sir I-Ienry Harrington, had been shan1efully beaten and put to flight by the united septs of the O'Byrnes and O'Tooles in the neigh­ bourhood of Rathdrum, and that he hin1self had to fly for his life to the castle of Wicklow-whose blackened ruins still hang picturesquely over the sea-and thence to N ewcc1,stle, the seat of his senescalship. Essex's Journal, which suppresses all mention of his many encounters with the Irish in the south, barely alludes to this defeat ; but a diligent investigator of the State Papers-Mr. MacCarthy, author of the "Life of Florence MacCarthy Mor"-has brought to light all the origiEal documents relating to one of the most memorable episodes in the history of the O'Tooles and O'Byrnes. The ac­ count of this signal victory is best given by the lords of the Irish Council, and in the reports of some of the officers who had to bear the lnuniliation of defeat. But before sub1nitting the1n to the reader we 1nust premise that O'Neill, soon after Essex had commenced his '' progress" to the south, sent word to Felim and Reymond, Feagh's sons, to waste the country down the valley of the Liffey as far as Dublin, as he himself was about to 111ove towards the northern frontier of the Pale. This done, they were to -return to their own country ancl there wait his future instructions. About this time, May, 1599, Har-

0 74 THE o'TOOLES. rington was quartered in Wicklow castle with over 1,000 men officered by Loftus, the archbishop's son, Montague, and others who had a hand in the murder of Feagh. That had already been pretty well avenged ; but the united septs longed for op­ portunity to encounter on their own hills those who were mainly instrumentalin compassing one of the foulest enormities re­ corded in Irish history, written as it has been with the sword's point dipped in blood. Itwas cause of sore grief to Harrington that the sons of the '' old cankered traitor," and their allies, should have been left in possession of their glens, and, what was worse, that they were able to assist the O'Moores of Leix, nay, and harry the b1.wns of "the English civil subjects," from Liffey-head to the gates of. Dublin. Then, again, might not this valiant captain, entitle himself to so pleasant a location as Glen-­ malure, and the sunny uplands of Griana11, (now written Greenane ), by cutting off in son1e notable encounter the sons of the chieftain who, a short time before, lorded it there as the O'Byrne 1 \-Vas it not worth risk of limb, nay, life, to make the experiment and win Essex's com mendations by achieving a feat which her Majesty would reward with broad acres, and perhaps titles of honour 1 A volume of poems in praise of her Highness would not be half so ac­ ceptable as the utter outrooting of those 111ountain "savages," whose fierce inroads had so frequently scared the inhabitants of her Irish metropolis. Harrington, indeed, knew that many of O'Neill's Ulstermen were then in the glens; but what were they compared with the well-equipped disciplined force which Essex placed at his disposal ? We have not been able to discover whether Harrington received the Deputy's orders to attack the O'Byrnes ; but it is certain that he marched on lVIonday, 28th lVIay, 1599, from his garrison of ,vicklow with 500 foot and 60 horse to Rathdrum, near which he established a camp on that evening. His object was to force the passes into Glenmalure, but next day Felim and his brother, with their followers, crossed his path, routed him with con­ siderable loss, and pursued his flying columns to within a few THE O'TOOLES. 75 miles of Wicklow. This was a sore blow to the soldier's day-dreams, and all his fine visions were rudely dissipated in an instant. The news of this affair reached the Lords of the Council speedily, and on the 2nd June they notified it to the English Privy Council thus :-

B Sir Henry Harrington being encamped near Ranelagh (the ancient name of the country including and about Glenmalure), on the 28th of last month the rebel Felim Mac Feagh having drawn to ahead a great force of his own and other traitors at that instant, the 29th, set upon Sir Henry with all their forces, and broke them with a lamentable slaughter of the most part of the companies of foot, as will appear by his own letter, a double of which we send to your lordships." But '' the double" must tell its own tale : " Sir Henry Harrington to the Lord Chancellor : - " MY GOOD LORD-I cannot but with grief write to you of this unfor­ tunate day. Coming from our camp within a mile and a-half of the great water (the Avcnmore), returning to our garrison place, we were hotly pursued by the traitors, whose forces were far stronger than ours. Marching on our way we skirmished ; but in the end they joyned battle with ours within a mile and a-half of Wicklow, where most part of our men were lost, many of our horsemen sore hurt, and through the coward­ liness of our armed men that never would once couch their pikes, or offer to strike one stroke for their lives, do what their leaders could. No captain lost but Wardman ; Loftus hurt in the leg : no men could serve better than his while one rn,a,n was able to stand. ~Iy nephew, Montague, broke through the head of them (the rebels), in which himself was struck in the side with a pike and received two blows of a sword, so that he got our main body breathing time; yet they would not stand, but dispersed ; and then with his horsemen went up to the colours, being ready to be possessed by the enemy, and brought them away-From Newcastle, this 29th of May, 1559." To this letter Sir Geoffrey Fenton added the following post­ script:- " Captain Loftus is dead since this letter, of hurts received in the overthrow." Ah, Sir Henry, you had a long ride from the Ranelagh to Newcastle ; but although the fleetness of your good charger saved you from the pikes of the O'Byrnes, it could not shield you from the Deputy's indignation. · But before touching that matter we would fain present the reader with another account of the defeat, written by one who took part in the action :-. " The Declaration of Piers Walsh, touching Sir Henry Harrington going to the Great Water. "Upon Monday, the 28th of May, Sir Henry Harrington, with the forces of horse and foot under his command, being 500 foot and 50 horse, did set forward towards the great water, near Rathdrum, to view the 76 THE o'TOOLES. sconces made by the rebels to stop the passage of that river, and drawing near the river he encamped with the forces at a waste village, called Bal­ lysha, * within a mile to the river. And after the watch was set the rebels played upon the camp, at what time Sir Henry caused some of the forces to put the rebels shot from their standing ; that night the rebel Phelim Mac Feagh sent a messenger! of his own, being a rhymer, to pray Sir Henry to forbear doing of any hurt to him, and that he wou1d submit himself to the Lord Lieutenant. And the next morning, Sir Henry, upon intelligence received that the rebels were gathering into a head too strong for him, be dislodged and caused his carria-ges to march to­ wards Wicklow, and himself with the forces followed, and immediately upon his remove another messenger came to him from the said traitor with some message which the said Walsh knoweth not, but as he verily thinketh it was to feed Sir Henry with fair words until their forces were ready to set upon him, as might be well gathered by the sequel, for, with:n a small time· after the rebels w1th their battle and loose wings came in and began to skirmish with the forces, whereupon Captain A.dam Loftus, with his foot company answered the sl irmish in the rere of the battle, and fought very valiantly for the space of three miles, the rest of the companies of foot yielding small help, but only marching forward; the rebels perceiving that, did draw near with their main battle. at what time Captain A.dam Loftus, having then taken a horse with Captain Montague, and the horse troop charged the head of the battle and did pass through the same. In which charge Captain A.dam Loftus was thrust into the leg with a pike, whereof and of some other hurt afterwards received he died ; immediately whereupon the rebels' battle joined with ours, and by reason our armed men could not be drawn to turn back, or to make a stand, and to fight ; a great part of the forces were slain ; and as the said Lieutenant doth gather at the least the one half did miscarry, among which company Captain vVard­ man is lost, and many officers. The rebels continued this killing till they came within half a mile to Wicklow, at1d such of the forces as escaped got away disordered by footmanship, leaving their arms behind them. All the Ca,ptains' colours were brought away by the horsemen, and Cap­ tain Loftus's colours, and drum were brought away by the said Lieu­ tenant Walshe. What number of the soldiers that came off, and were not slain, he knoweth not certain, for that they took divers ways for their safety.'= Essex was at Enniscorthy when the news of Harrington's de­ feat reached him, and, deeming it wise to hasten to Duqlin be­ fore the rebels could gather to a head and obstruct his march, he dislodged and proceeded along the coast to Arklow, on the 1st of July. In this neighbourhood his worn-out troops were attacked by Felim Mac Feagh, the O'Tooles, and some of the O'Moores of Leix, who cut off many of the stragglers. His main force, however, owed their safety to Lord Southampton's horse, an arm in which the Irish seem to_ have been deficient.

* Now Ballyshane. THE O'TOOLES. 77

At the close of one of these encounters, Essex informs us that Felim Mac Feagh proffered to parley with him, provided he (Feagh) got his lordship's word for his safe return. To this Essex replied "that, if he sent to Arklow for a passport only to '' come as a repentant rebel to tender his absolute submission, he '' should have a safe conduct ; biit if he sent in any other form '' Essex would execute the messenger." Need we say that Felim did not send 1 .Essex, continuing his march, halted " within " three miles of Wicklow, right against the place where Sir '' Henry Harrington was overthrown." About the 3rd of July Essex was in Dublin Castle, but so sick in body and mind that after a n1eeting of the Council '' he had to deliver himself to the physicians for three days." And indeed no wonder; for he had lost time, men, and money in his disastrous southern expedition, and, what was more vexatious, Jiscov~red that all the force at· his command was not able to seize the chief of the "Wicklow rebels.'' But how did he act with poor Harrington and the survivors of the ignominious '' baffle" near Rathdrum 1 We will let himself answer :- " On 1\1:onday last I called a martial court upon the captains and offi• cers who wereuncler Sir H. Harrington when our troops, having advan• .t'1~e of number and no disadvantage of ground, were put in rout, and ma1.y cut in pieces without striking a blow. In this court ·vValsh, lieu­ t!-mant to Captain Adam Loftus, for giving the first example of cowar• d~ce and dismaying to the troops, was condemned to die, and after­ wards accordingly executed. The other captains and the officers, though they forsook not their places, but were forsaken by their soldiers, yet be­ C'.tuse they did not something very extraordinary to encourage the sol­ diers, were a11 eashiered, and are still kept in prison. The soldiers, being before condemned all to die, were by me most of them pardoned, and for example's sake every te:ath man only executed. Sir H. Harring­ ton, because he is a Privy Councillor in this kingdom, I forbear to bring to trial till I know her Majesty's pleasure." That however, was soon ascertained, for her Highness spared his life, 1nuch, we may suppose, to the regret of the O'Byrnes ttnd O'Tooles, who would have been better pleased at hearing that Sir Henry had got a dozen bullets through his body in the ~ourtyard of Dublin Castle. 78 THE o'TOOLES.

PART IX.

NEVER was Lord Lieutenant so weary of Ireland as Essex, and, indeed, with good reason. The highly disciplined and excel­ lently equipped army that accompanied him in his southern tour, on its arrival in Dublin was utterly dispirited, and, owing to the guerilla warfare it encountered, hardly fit to take the field in the North. '' The poor men," wrote Essex, '' that " marched with me eight weeks together, be very weary and '' unfit for a new journey, and the horsemen so divided that I "cannot draw 300 to our aid.'' Withal, O'Neill must bA met and defeated. Such were her Majesty's peremptory commands, and Essex, plucking up heart, continues-''Yet as fast as I can '' call the troops together, I will go look on yonder proud rebel. '' And if I find him on hard ground and in an open country, " though I should find him in horse and foot three for one, " yet will I, by God's grace, dislodge him, or put the Council '' here to the trouble of choosing a Lord Justice." Fine phrases these, but on reflection, clashed with melancholy, for Essex knew that he had incurred the Queen's displeasure, that " the " army looked with pity on him and itself in an action which " was likely to prove comfortless ; and, worst of all, that 'the " rebels' would think it time to hew upon a withering tree "whose leaves they see beaten down, and the branches in " part cut off. 0 miserable employment and more miserable " destiny of mine, that makes it impossible for me to please "and serve her Majesty at once!'' Little, indeed, was her Majesty affected by his sentimentality, for she wrote to him- " That his two months' journey hath brought in no rebel against whom it had been worthy to have adventured 1,000 men; that Norris, President of Munster, ·with a comparatively small force, could have done more ; and that O'Neill had been pleased to see the royal army employed against base rogues, who were not strengthened by foreign armies, but only by his own offal. Little do you know how he hath blazed in foreign parts, the defeats of regi_ments, the death of captains, and loss of men of quality in every corner!" But was Essex to venture into the North with such an army THE O'TOOLES. 79 as he then commanded 1 The Irish Privy Council 1naintained that he ought not, and, on hearing this, the Queen gives them a piece of her mind on the subject :- " Your letter doth rather d3serve reproof th1,n much answer ; you dissuade that which must be done. You (the Lieutennnt) are following the examples of the late Deputies Russell and Fitzwilliams. You of that Oouncil have been the cause of that corruption in religion, by favouring Popery ; and it w,1s you who persuaded our Lieutenant on his landing to make so long a journey into ·rvrunster; now you frame new arguments to keep our army out of the North, and thus to increase tlu. rebel's pride. Do you forget tlrnt within these seven days you made a fresh demand of 2,000 men for tliis action, and now Rend us tidings that this huge charge must leave Tyrone untouched? "\Vhat would you have us believe, if we did not. think you loyal, but either some of you cannot forget your old good wills to that traitor, or else are insensible to all things save your own particulars?" A few days after Essex received the royal letter he n1arched fron1 Dublin to Ardbrackan, where he lod ;ed in the bishop of Meath's house on the 28th August (1599). Three days after­ wards his army rendezvoused on the hill of Clythe, a short dis­ tance fron1 Kells ; and there, after debating whether it was fit to place a garrison in Breffny- " It was concluded that no garrison could be placed in any part oi Cavan, because of the difficulty of victualling such garrison, but chiefly because O'Neill was then with his forces in Farney, and prepared to enter the Pale, and burn and spoil to the gates of Dublin as soon as the Lord Lieutenant had gone as high up as Cavan." September 2nd found Essex enca1nped between Robertstown and N ewca,stle, and on the 3rd he 1noanted the hill of Ardolfe to get a view of O'Neill's army, then lodged a mile and a-half off, but a river and· a wood between him and them. Five hundred foot and some horse being sent to escort fuel-gatherers in the valley towards O'N eill's quarter, the latter sent s01ne of his to "impeach thein and offer skir1nish, but after gave the1n order not to pass the ford." Next day Essex 1narched to the 1nill of Louth, and encamped beyond the river towards Farney, while O'Neill marQhed through the woods, and lodged in the next. wood, keeping his scouts in sight of the Lord Lieutenant. Here itwas consulted what was to be done upon O'Neill, and how his fastness might be entered, but it w,1,:; concluded that the English were not strong enough to attea1pt the Irish trenches, 80 THE o'TOOLES.

and that it was better to have a strong garrison in Louth or some castle thereabout, to offend the bordering rebels. Essex, however, seeing that no fuel could be had in that neighbour­ hood, would not adopt the suggestion. On the 5th, O'Neill sent Henry O'Hagan, Constable of Dungannon, and a man highly favoured and trusted by him, to invite the Lord Lieu­ tenant to a parley with his chief. This his Excellency refused, but told O'Hagan he would, next n10rning, be on the hill be­ tween both camps, and if he chose to speak to him then, he would be found at the head of his troops. Next morning Essex drew out 2,000 foot and 300 horse on the ~rst great hill that gave him a sight of O'Neill, and tlrnn marched towards another hill, on which O'N eill's guard of horse stood, which they quitted as the English approached. It was now about three o'clock in 1 the afternoon, and a slight skirmish occurred between the light horse of the opposing forces, in which a French gentleman of the Lord Lieutenant's.· troops and ~n Englislunan of South­ ampton's met some hurt. After this rencontre a horseman of O'Neill's delivered this message-that his lord would neither fight nor draw forth, but desired to speak with his Excellency, but not between the two armies. The latter then lodged 500 foot and 50 horse at Niselrathy, half a mile from the hill of Louth, where there was a square castle. This garrison was commanded by Sir Chris­ topher St. Lawrence. Next morning (the 7th) Essex set out for Drumconrath, but before he had marched a mile, Henry O'Hagan can1e and told him that O'Neill desired to speak with his Excellency ; which if his lordship agreed to he would gallop about and meet him at the ford of Bellaclithe (Anaghclart, on the Lagan), on the right of the road to Drumconrath. Essex then sent two gentlemen with O'Hagan to view the ford, and they found O'Neill there, but the water so far out as they told him they thought it no fit place to speak in. "\Vhereupon he grew i1npatient and said, " Then shall I despair ever to speak with him;" and at last (knowing the ford) found a place where he, standing up to his horse's belly, might be near enough to be heard by Essex, though he kept to the hard THE O'TOOLES. 81 ground. His Excellency then drew a troop of horse to the hill above the ford, and seeing O'Neill there alone his lordship went down alone ; at whose coming O'Neill saluted the Lord Lieutenant, and they talked about half an hour together, and then returned to their respective companies 011 the hills. After this there was a second conference at which six principal men from both armies were present-O'Neill and all his company standing almost to their horses' bellies in water ; Essex with his 011 hard ground. It was then concluded that there should be a meeting of commissioners next morning at a ford near Garret ],leming's Qastle. And so they parted, Essex going to Drumconrath and O'Neill returning to his camp. Next morning Essex sent Sir Warham St. Leger, Sir W. Con­ stable, Sir W. Warren, and his Secretary, Sir Henry Wotton, to the place of meeting. O'Neill came himself to the parley, after sending into Fleming's castle four gentlemen, as pledges for the safety of the English Commissioners. It was then agreed that there should be a cessation of arms for six weeks, to be continued fr01n six weeks till May Day, or to be broken upon fourteen days' warning. This being concluded September 8, on the 9th Essex dispersed his army, went to Drogheda, and O'Neill, with his army, proceeded into the heart of his o-wn country. On the 17th the Queen wrote to Essex that she was highly displeased at his conduct, and rebuked hi1n for having conversed with "the traitor half an hour alone ;' for, quoth her Highness, '' to trust such a one upon his oath is to trust a devil upon his religion." Driven to desperation by other passages in the sa1ne letter, Essex resolved to repair to the Queen without licence. On the 24th he swore in archbishop Loftus and Sir George Carew as Lords Justices; appointed Or- 1nond to command the army, embarked, and reached London on the 28th. Two days afterwards he was committed to the custody of the Lord_ Keeper. His after fate is too well known to be told here ; but we may remark that he was treated by Elizabeth with a cruelty that he did not deserve. Yet it was not his mis­ conduct in Ireland that cost him the loss of Elizabeth's favour and his life but some opprobrious words reported by Sir Walter 82 THE O'TOOLES.

Raleigh to have been spoken by him: "The late Earl Essex,' says he, "told Queen Elizabeth that her conditions were as "crooked as her carcase, put it cost him his head, which his in­ " surrection had not cost him but for that speech." So true it is that a woman never pardons anyone who tells her she is ugly ! On the 24th February, 1599, Mountjoy was sworn Lord De­ puty, and continued the war against O'Neill till 1603, when the latter voluntarily submitted. On the accession of James I., the Irish Catholics foolishly flattered themselves that the son of the unfortunate Mary Stuart would respect their religion and estates ; and, indeed, the first acts of his reign wer~ calculated to encourage this illusion; for pardons were granted to most of the Irish septs that had been "in rebellion" in his predecessor's time, and many of them, after submitting themselves, had grants of their estates by letters patent from the crown. Thus, on the 26th March, 1604, Felim O'Byrne had granted to him, pursuant to Privy Seal of 15th September, 1603- " The towns and lands of Corballie, Ballyknockin, Grenane, a moiety of Bally-Eustace, &c., &c., producing a rent of £100 old English money, payable by the free tenants of said territory of Ranelagh, in money counted, or in cattle, at the E>lection of said tenants, in manner follow­ ing :-A good ox, at 15s ; a mutton, 2s; and a hog, at 4s, English, in lieu of divers Irish customs, cuttings, and casualties, to the late Feagh MacHugh O'Byrne belonging within said territory ; all which were the possessions of said Feagh, late of Ballinacor, slain in rebellion, and under the King's hands, in right of his crown." As for Reymond (Felim's brother), he, too, had an ample grant of part of the ancient territory, " to hold to him, his '' heirs, and assigns, for ever, in capite, by the 20th part of "a knight's fee, and a rent of 26s 8d, provided that neither he "nor his heirs levied dues or customs according to the old " Brehon usage, under a penalty of double the value of the " thing so exacted, or £20, at the election of the Crown." It niay be supposed that the brothers thus repossessed of the patrimony of Clan Ranelagh were well satisfied to forego all old rights excepted in the grant, provided they were allowed to till their paternal acres and enjoy the territory which had been so long a scene of desolation and bloodshed. 0£ :fighting, and what the world calls glory, they had had enough, and we may THE o'TOOLES. 83

presume thattheylongedforrepose; and, trustingthe signmanual of James I., looked forward to the time when their children's chil­ dren would hold their inheritances nnderthe safeguard of the crown for ever. And, indeed, it must be acknowledged that they were not disturbed during the reign of James, for although he was an unscrupulous confiscator, the spoliation of Feagh's sons did not take place till two years after he had been laid in his grave. There is not on record a more flagitious transaction than the eviction of the O'Byrnes, begun in 1625, and consummated in 162'7, by · the joint agency of the renegcide lord Esmond and Sir William Parsons, who empl0yed the wickedest devices the devil himself could inspire to effect their purpose. The official document relating this ·transaction, which shall be given in the Appendix to these pctpers, will show that the extermi­ nators of our day are angels of mercy compared to the two villains we have named. _A memoir of the O'Byrnes must be written by a hand more competent than mine ; and whoever undertakes it will find ample material in the State Papers, the records of Continental armies, Mr. O'Callag­ han's-" Irish Brigades'' especially-and the history of the Irish civil wars, to show that the descendents of Feagh Mac Hugh proved themselves, at hon10 and ab~oad, worthy inheritors of the fame and chivalry of their ancestors. It is not my business to say who represents the old chieftain line now, but it consoles me to reflect that I could not throw a stick in fair or market from Rathdrum to Aughrim, without hitting a score or more stal­ wart and comely descendents of those who swept the English Pale in the days of Feagh, baffled Sir Henry Harrington in the delightful valley of the Avonmore-now spanned by the Rath­ drum viaduct-and sent my Lord Essex back to Dublin Castle

1 with aching head and· heart sore-sick. But the O'Tooles were far less fortunate than their old allies when King James ascended the throne, for an Inqui:::;ition, taken, 00t. 27, 1603, sets forth that to Richard Wingfield. Marshal of the King's Forces, were demised-

" The manor of Powerscourt, containin7 a 1·iiinon.,; ca8tle, and all other lands and possessions in the towns and fields of Powerscourt. Kil- 84 THE o'TOOLES. peter, Kilcoolyn, Beanag-hbeg, Beanaghmore, Oenag-h, Ballicoolie, Templebeacan, Cookestown, Kiltagaran, Anacreve, Kilmollin, Ballin· browe, Kiltegar,'the lVIonaster, and all other lands in the whole country of Feracualan, containing in itself five miles in length and four in breadth, for the most part mountain and stony, all which is :now, by occasion of war, waste, and the natural infertility of the soil of said country, very barren -late the possessions of Brian and Felim O'Toole, of Powerscourt, deceased; and come unto the crown, as well by escheat, as forfeited by the said Brian and Felim and their heirs-to hold for twenty-one years, at a rent of £6 Irish, &c." A lucky man in sooth was Sir Richard Wingfield, knight ; but before saying n1ore of him I would recall what I stated anent }Pelim O'Toole of Powerscourt. Spirit of my illustriom ancestor, forgive and accept my an1endment ! Not you, bui some miscreant who disgraced your name, brought in the O'Byrnes' heads to lord deputy Russell. Had you play~t! the traitor you would not have figured in the bill of forfeiture which made your posterity aliens in the land that otherwise might have been theirs. Suffer me to add that I often and often bla1ned you for shutting your door against the brave O'Donnell that hard winter night, when, flying from injiisticc, he craved hospitality and protection at your hands. In this you acted unwisely, churlishly ; but I would fain hope that he pardoned you, nay, and besought our own Saint Lorchan tha.t heaven's gate should not be barred against you. Now, touching Sir R. "\Vingfield already mentioned in these pages, we may acld that Elizabeth appointed him marshal of her forces in Ireland (1600); that he was present at the siege of Kinsale next year, when he signed the articles of capitulation between lord Mountjoy and D'Aquila, general of the Spanish expedition. On I{ing J ames's accession he was re-appointed marshal ; in 1608 he assisted in suppressing O'Doherty's rebel .. lion ; and in 1609, as reward of signal services, the king granted him and his heirs for ever the whole province of Feracualan. In 1610 he had a further grant of the castle and lands of Benburb, in county Tyrone, containing 2,000 acres, at the rent of £16 per annum fr01n Easter, 1614; and in the plantati.on of Wexford many lands, erected into the manor of Wingfield, were granted to him, with 800 acres for a demesne. In 1618 he was raised to the dignityofViscountPowerscourt, anddyingwithoutissue, 1634, the THE O'TOOLES. 85 title became extinct, and the estate devolved to his cousin, Sir Edward Wingfield. In 1665 the Viscountywas revived in favour of Folliott Wingfield, at whose death, 1717, the peerage expired till 1743, when Richard Wingfield of Powerscourt was elevated to that dignity by the title of Baron Wingfield and Viscount Powerscourt. The present noble proprietor of Feracualan descends from the second son of said Richard. Of the O'Tooles of Fertire and Imale who were involved in the confiscations of James I., and shared the fate of Bryan and Felim of Powerscourt, I can only speak incidentally, for their viscissitudes would occupy more space than the limits of these papers can allow. Their names, however, and those of their posterity will be found numerously in. the Inquisitions taken in the reign of James I., Charles I., and Cha.rles II., as tenants under the new proprietary that got possession of their estates. On Mountjoy's retirement. (1603) the Deputyship was con­ ferred on Sir Arthur Chichester, a fanatical bigot, who came to Ireland a convicted thief and pauper, but left it with a huge for­ tune amassed by every species of legal fraud that his Attorney­ General, Sir John Davies, could invent or suggest. This heartless miscreant affected great zeal for religion, treated the Irish Catho­ lics with contempt, rifled their poor altars, laid whole districts in the North waste with sword and fire, and in reward thereof was created lord Donegal, and had a grant from the Crown of the peninsula of Inishowen, with thousands of acres elsewhere. In our times a Parliamentary thanks, or a modest pension from the Crown, is deemed ample reward for a successful soldier ; but in Chichester's clays the suppression of "an Irish outbreak," or the capture of a" poor Popish bishop," was requited withhalf a province, and license to treat the natives like brute beasts. But all this was for propping up the Establishment and thwarting the Pope ! Remembering this, I ~1n forcibly· reminded of Sir C. J. Napier's reflection on the bishop's dinner-'' Oh ! the riches "of -the Church! He who has lived a life of ease has £8,000 " or £10,000 a-year and a palacb ; I who have lived a life of "hardship, wounds, and banishments, have one thousand." Chichester boasts of having reduced certain countries into shire 86 THE o'TOOLES. ground, among the rest the countries of the O'Byrnes, which, in 1604, he "put into one entire county." Thenceforth the-power of the O'Tooles and O'Byrnes ceased to scare the citizens of Dublin, and the old imaginary line between them and the Pale vanished. I need hardly add that Chichester was mainly instrumental in bringing about that most dismal and interesting episode of our history-the flight of the once potent Northern Earls, by which six counties of Ulster were escheated to James I., and given to that beastly monarch's favourites. During the long interval of twenty-six years since Chichester's departure, till the Irish Rising in 1641, there was a series of Deputies and Lords Justices ( what a misnomer !), each and all of wh01n harassed the Irish Catholics beyond all endurance. Falkland, Sir A. Loftus, Sir R. Boyle, afterwards earl of Cork, and the infamous Strafford, plundered, cheated, and swindled as none but they could do under various pretexts, the most pro­ minent of which was the propagation of trne religion. In the midst of such miseries where was the Irish Catholic gentleman to look for a career, since every avenue to fame or fortune was closed against him at home 1 Now here but in the armies of Continental sovereigns who, as we have already said, opened seminaries for the Irish priesthood, and were ready to reward the bravery of such Irishmen as took service under their ban­ ners. In Belgium, Henry O'Neill, son of the expatriated earl of that name, commanded a regiment of Irish in the service of the Archdukes, Albert and Isabella, and invited every kindred spirit of his nation to enlist under the same ban­ ners. Here O'Byrnes and O'Tooles could find employment, and. here they might advance themselves in the congenial profession of arms, while watching and yearning for any lucky imbroglio of European politics, that might enable them to return to their own country, ancl perhaps repossess themselves of their patri­ monies. And indeed, the Rising of 1641 seemed to pro­ mise a realisation of this hope, for Luke O'Byrne, one of the old clan, with his own followers and the O'Tooles be­ seiged Carnew Castle twelve weeks, and took it with many other forts in the counties of Wexford and Wicklow, invariably

--l THE O'TOOLES. 87 giving quarter for life to the garrisons, and compelling the old renegade, lord Esmond, to shut himself up in Duncannon. At the beginning of those troubles Richard Wingfield, Esq., was appointed a captain to assist in suppressing the "rebel­ lion," with a warrant to raise 60 men, and another to receive from the government stores 38 muskets and 20 pikes. " By this rebellion," says Lodge, "he was a great sufferer, having "his house of Powerscou.rt burnt, his goods and stock destroyed, '' and his life lost in the service of the crown." It was·not, however, till July, 1642, when Owen Roe O'Neill landed at Castle Doe, in the North, that the rising exhibited really formidable proportions. That able leader brought with hiin considerable supplies of arms and amn1unition, and, what was more needed, Irish officers who had seen service in the Spanish Netherlands, in field and fort, from the walls of Lou­ vain to the citadel of Arras. Each of these was able to " set a squadron on the field," for they all had learnt the 1nilitary art as a profession, whereby to live or die as became soldiers. A rare manuscript history of the time states that among the best of the Confederate officers none were n1ore distinguished than Hugh Mac Felim O'Byrne and Colonel Luke O'Toole-the former, son 1 of Es1nond's victim ; and the latter, son of the evicted lord of Castle ICevin. O'Byrne's conduct during the protracted war is beyond all praise, £or his bravery and fidelity to religion and · country merited the conunendations of Owen Roe, who had per~ sornil experience of his soldierly bearing at home and abroad. When Preston, General of the Leinster forces, temporised, and by his defection to lord Ormond (the enemy of his race and creed), frustrated the Confederate attempt on Dublin, Hugh Mac Felim resigned the commission he held under that scion of the house of Gormanstown, and took service with Owen Roe's Ulstermen. This is not the place to enumerate the n1any actions in which he figured, and it 1nust suffice to say that he distinguished hin1self in each of them, clung to his chief with unwavering fidelity, assisted a.t his death-bed in Cloughouter; and, when the fortunes of the Confederates seen1ecl desperate, led his regiment to Rathdrum, and kept the national flag flying even 88 THE o'TOOLES. after Cromwell had massacred the people of Wexford. No whining, crouching slave was Hugh Mac Felim, but every inch a man, proud of the blood that cour.:;ed in his veins, proud of the memories which his native h~lls awakened, and ready, had Heaven so willed, to sacrifice himself in a generous effort to sweep out Elizabeth's and James's rabble settlers fro1n the pleasant glens and fields of Ranelagh. And of the same noble type was his kinsman, Luke O'Toole, who had his share of alJ the "hard blows" during that momentous epoch when the Irish Catholics occupied a vantage ground such as they never held before or since; and from which they were obliged to descend into the depths of social grovelling, not indeed by extraneous constraint, but rather by pressure of their own feuds [l,lld factionism. Colonel Luke O'Toole served some time under P.reston, recruited his regiment ainong the hills of Imale and Feracualan, and with O'Byrne (says the ]US. already cited), " Made a fort of earth in the meare of the two counties, Dublin and Wicklow, where he annoyed the city, being ten miles only distant, waited still his opportunity when any army did issue thence, would show himself now and then upon St. gtephen's-Green, using some acts of hostility, did burn some of the suburbs other times, so that several times he recalled home those armies to defend their proper doors." Luke was son of Barnaby, Feagh MacHugh's unflinching friend, and, when only eighteen years of age, lost his estate of Castle Kevin, which King James granted to John Wakeman, who, by deed dated 5th December, 1609, enfeoffed Luke of same, which he held eleven years previous to April, 1636. The follow­ ing commission attests the high respect in which he was held by the Catholic prelates assembled in Cavan :- " To Colonel Luke O'Toole, greeting. in our Lord everfasting: "SIR-The pressing cala,mity of this Kingdom, wherewith the holy. Catholic, Apostolic, and Roma,n religion, his Sacred .Majesty's right, and ~he just liberties of us his loyal subjects, are like to be trod under foot by a, company of profane rebels-instruments of God's wrath to punish our sins--together with the confidence we have in your zeal, worth, and wisdom, to redeem those so dear pledges, invites us to call to your assistance, giving you hereby full power and authority to levy, lead, and command a regiment of foot, and a troop of horse, praying you to cont:i.in the said regiment and troop, as much as may be, from incurring God's just anger, especially from OlJpressing the: poor. swearing, and st~aling; giving you · to understand we are hereunto authorised by his Ex~ellency (Ormond), as appeareth by his letter dated at Loughreagh, April 1. \Ve t1ilso pr,i.y TH.E 0 7TOOLES you, with consent of the gentry there, to choose among yourselves in these parts a commander-in-chief, and that each .colonel may choose his own officers. We will not cease to pray his divine :Majesty to encourage you to fight in his quarrel and bless your designs. Farewell.-Given at Cavan, 2nd May, 1650." This commission is signed by Hugh O'Reilly, archbishop of Armagh, Thomas Fleming, archbishop of Dublin, Eugene Kilmore, and others of whom there is ample notice in the "Irish Hierarchy of the 17th Century," by Rev C. P Meehan. At the close of 1650, Colonel Luke was en­ camped in. Glenmalure; and at the termination of the Con­ federate War, the Cromwellians committed him to Dublin Castle, with whose dungeons many of his ancestors were but toe well acquainted. Dying there at the age of seventy-five, he left foursons-Barnaby,_Donough, ~ lieutenant-colonel, Christopher, a major in the sa1ne confederate service, and Tirlogh. It does not come within my scope to relate how the heads of the old Irish septs were- treated in those dreary days when the whole island was in the gripe of the Cromwellian freebooters, who hanged, robbed, and transported as they pleased. The history of that period has been written faithfully and lucidly by J. P. Prendergast, Esq.; and indeed, without an attentive perusal of "The Cromwellian Settlement of Ireland," no one can form an adequate notion of the 1niseries and injustice which Irish Catholics had to endure for their loyalty tu Charles I. and his worthless son and successor. Colonel Luke's advanced age reminds n1e that the O'Tooles generally are, and have been, a long-lived race. Before n1e hangs the portrait of Arthur O'Toole, who died in London late in the reign of Charles II., after completing his eightieth year. Even at the risk of a digi'ession, I may not pass this per­ sonage in silence ; because the reflections of the glClss, in which at one period I 1nade more than was good for soul or body ; and of late, those of the 1nirror, where ladies mostly make thews, con­ vince me that his physiognomy bears a striking" resein blance to my own. Well, he is a handsome old n1an, with high forehead, clear blue eyes, aquiline nose, and mouth. whose curve wuuld make you believe that he must have been a, sort of Apollo Bel-

p 90 THE O'TOOLES.

videre in his youth. The snow-white h~.ir, anrl flowing beard, of which Aaron himself might have been .vain, give a virile beauty to his features, and 1nake me regret that he did not adopt the profession of St. Lorchan. I have seen Eastern patriarchs iil St. Peter's; but to my observation there never was head better formed for mitre than yours, 0 Arthur, if you had not r,referred the rnorion ! The entire figure is cased in burnished armour, and his hand grasps a long wand ornmnented . I 1 with more than a dozen coronets, indicating, no doubt, the many cantreds of land to which he was entitled, if every man had his own. This picture is engraved in Grainger's illustrated biographical work, where w~read :- " Captain O'Toole was a· man of inordinate aspirations. He took every occasion of boasting his precipitate valour. He served as a volun­ teer in various nations, and was as notorious in other parts of Eur,>tJe as he was in his own country. He was son and heir of Brian O''l1oole. lord of Powerscourt and Farre-Cullen. The Mars and Mercury, the Agamemnon and Ulysses, for wisdom and valour-,-Thersites, Amadis de Gaul, Don Quixote-Westminster his residence.'' Much as I revere the old heads of our sept, I will not gain­ say a word said to his disparagement ; for I am very sure that if he had been true to the traditions and aspirations of his forefathers, not Westminster, but London Tower would have been his biding place. May Heaven assoil hiin and forgive me if I do wrong in quoting the verses made by Taylor, con1monly called the Water-poet, anent this Arthur ! " Great Mogul's landlord, of both Indi~s king, Whose self-admiring fame doth loudly ring, Writes four-score yearR, more kingdoms he hath right to, The st:1rs says so, and for them he will fight, too ; And though this worthfoss age will not believe him, But clatter, spatter, slander, scoff, to grieve him, Yet he and all the world in this agree, ':rhat such another Toole will never be." Nevertheless, ont upon Sassenach biographer and ballad­ n1onger ! a hundred of the Olan O'Toole have long since wiped away the blur that Arthur cast on their escutcheon; aye, and had there been no other to do so, ecce eao adsmn aui feci-. I have done it ! THE O'TOOLES. 91

(CONCLUSION.) IN 1653 the Parliamentary or Cromwellian faction declared that " the rebellion," for so they called the Confederate war, was at an end. In the preceding year Sir Felim O'Neill and many other distinguished Irish Catholics were executed in Dublin ; and six years afterwards Cromwell himself departed this life. On his decease his son Henry was 1nade lord-lieutenant (1658), and was succeeded next year by three sanguinary ruffians, Tom­ linson, Corbet, and Berry, whom the Parliament sent to rule Ireland. In 1660 the restoration of Cha~les II. was aqcom­ plished. It is not my purpose to describe what the Irish Ca­ tholics had to endure under each and all of those who held the government .during the Cromwellian period and that of the second Charles, who, instead of requiting their loyalty to his father and himself, treated them withingratitude and contempt. Cromwell's troopers were allowed to hold the estates from which the old Celtic nobility and gentry had been extruded; and although the restored king erected a Court of Claiins in Dublin, very, very few of the dispossessed got even a seµiblance of , justice from the Commissioners. Son as he was of a CatholiG mother, the profligate Charles II. had no respect for the pro­ fessors of that faith, although they constituted the majority of the population; but, on the contrary, treated their prelates and subordinate clergy with neglect and contempt, Five years after the restoration, Edmund O'Reilly, archbishop of Armagh, was sent prisoner to London ; in 1678, Peter Talbot de Malahide, archbishop of Dublin, was imprisoned in the Castle ; and in October of that year a proclamation was issued commanding archbishops, bishops, and clergy e4ercising ecclesiastical ju­ risdiction under the Pope to depart the kingdom by the 20th November. Another proclamation published that same day forbade Papists to come into the Castle of Dublin, the n1arkets of Drogheda, Cork, Waterford, Limerick, Wexford, Youghal, and Galway. Pleasing reminiscences these for the" Papists'' of our day~ when common sense and retributive justice are sap-_ ping the foundations of that effete establishment for whose per.. 92 THE O'TOOLES.

\ petuation such laws and ordinances were enacted ! But the culmination of this sensual monarch's infamy w~s the execution of Oliver Plunket, archbishop of Armagh, who was hangc)d a.t Tyburn, July 1, 1631, on th1 evidence of perjured witnes30s, and by a jury who thought it a meritorious act to s1ay a digni­ tary of his position. Three years afterwards, Charles IL died and was succeeded by his brother James II., who was duly pro­ claimed in Dublin, February 2, 1684. This much maligned king, feeling for his co-religionists, sent over as his deputy, Richard Talbot, created earl of Tyrconnell, who with the assis- . tance of Chief Baron Rice, like himself a Catholic, insisted that '' Papists" should be admitted to freedoms and offices in the

metropolis and' corporate towns throughout Ireland. This 1 simple act of justice to the Irish Catholics stimulated the bigotry \ and intolerance of the monarch's enemies, and proved one of the many causes which induced the disloyal party to make a tender of the crown to the prince and princess of Orange. On Chistmas morning, 1688, the ill-fated J anies landed in France, and on the very day he sailed from the shores of his kingdom William ascended the English throne. Thenceforth James rested all his hopes upon. the Irish Catho]ics, and especially Tyrconnell, his deputy; and set about preparing for a descent on the Irish shore, with aids from K.ing Louis and about 1,200 British subjects, among who1n were the duke of Berwick, the earls of Dover, Abercorn, l\'.Ielfort, and some French officers. James landed at Kinsale, (1689), and reached Dublin on Palm Sunday of that year. His entry into the me­ tropolis was very magnificent. From J a1nes' Gate to the Castle the· streets were lined with soldiers (of w horn Tyrconnell had raised 30, 000 foot and 8,000 horse) ; the balconies of the houses exhibited their finest tapestry and cloth of Arras ; and when the monarch himself appeared, mounted on a fine charger, accompanied by lords Granard, Powis, Berwick, Mel­ forb, and other devoted loyalists, the multitude pealed out a song composed for the occasion, the refrain of which was "James our true King !"* Having established himself in the * See Appendix. 'rHE O'TOOLES. 93

Castle, James caused an 'altar to be erected in Christ Church (now in very ruinous condition, if we may believe Mr. Street, and about four tinies too large for the congregation that fre­ quents it), where he assisted at l\fass celebrated by Father Alexius Stafford, and heard sermons preached by Father Hall and the celebrated Michael Moor, of whom there is an account in Mr. Gilbert's history of the venerable edifice-the best that has ever been published-and also in Mr. O'Callaghan's '' Green Book." The monarch soon after his arrival issued five procla­ mations~ The first commanded all his Irish subjects who had quitted the kingdon1 to return by a specified time on pain of outlawry; the second thanked his true subjects for their loyalty ; the third invited the people to supply his army, but forbade the troops to take anything without pay­ ment. The fourth raised the value of the currency, and the fifth summoned a parliament to meet in Dublin in the en­ suing May.. Accordingly, on the 7th of that month, the last really national parliament assembled in the King's Inns, and was attended by 46 peers and 228 commoners. Among the former were five Protestant bishops, two others acting by proxy ; but no Catholic prelates were summoned. Among the commoners, who represented the best blood of Ireland, I find the name of captain Charles O'Toole, and I need hardly say that he re­ corded his vote for freedom of conscience ; the right of the Catholic clergy to receive tithes from members of their own religion ; the independence of the Irish Parliament and the repeal of the Act of Settlement, which would have reinstated the rightful heirs in those lands of which they had been dispossessed by James I. and the Cromwellian plunderers. The acts of this Parliament have been vituperated by English writers, whohaveneverceased ~o heapobloquyonKingJames; but blinded by party bias, they never reflect that it was his bounden duty to make restitution to the lineal representatives of those whom his grandfather had arbitrarily ousted, and in whose faces Charles II. had slammed the doors of the Court of Claims, rather than be pestered by the importunity of '' Papists," who lost everything but life and honour in aiding nis restoration. 94 THE O'TOOLES.

,Vhile that Parlianient sat, the sons and grandsons of O'N eills, O'Donnell's, O'Byrnes, Maguires, and other such high names, came from abroad to serve their king in the field ; nor are we to wonder that an O'Toole was anxious to regain the terri­ tory of his forefathers either by voice or by sword. But his hopes, like those of many others, were doomed to be dis a p­ pointed on that fatal first of July, when William's army, 36,000 strong, mostly Germans, Danes, and other foreign mercenaries, with an immense park of well-served artillery, forced the fords of the Boyne, in spite of the half-disciplined and badly-armed Irish levies, with their six miserable field pieces. We are never done hearing the braggadoci9 of ignorant declaimers who boast that J a.rµes's army was routed by the valour of Irish Protestants, and that the victory of the Boyne-if it deserve the name-was won by then1. Nothing can be falser ; for it is notorious that they did not make more than one-eighth of William's army, and that the best of them-the Enniskilleners­ w.ere repulsed by the Irish cavalry. Not by them, but, as we have already said, by French Huguenots, Danes, Finlanders, and Dutchmen, was that field won.· Need we add that the most highly distinguished of the successful party were also foreigners-Ginkell, Solmes, prince George of Hesse-Darmstadt, and Duke Charles Frederic of Wurtemberg ? Poor' claim in­ deed have the Irish Protestants to the victory. If it could have been won by them, we may well ask why did William bring an army of foreigners to our shores 1 Ah! but, associated with that fight on the Boyne there is a remembrance that should quicken the heart of every man bearing the ancient and honoured name of O'Toole. On the morning of that day, the Dutch Guards, Enniskilleners, and French Huguenots, led by Cailli­ motte and Duke Schomberg, dashed into the ford hard by Grove Island, and were met by the Irish, who caused them to waver and fall back. In the conflict Caillimotte, Walker of Derry, and old Schomberg, were slain; the latter receiving his death­ blow, if we may credit King James's account of the affair, from Sir Charles O'Toole, an exen1pt of the Guards. This, doubtless, .was th€ san1e who sat in the Irish parliament, and gave his THE O'TOOLES. 95

1nng such unmista.keable proof of devoted lealty. In the absence of anything to the contrary, we may assume tha.t Sir Charles- marched with the Irish down the line of the Shannon, and was present when the national army made its last glorious st[;tnd in Limerick, and surrendered, after signing an honourable capitu1ation, every article of which was .shamefully violated by the vVillia1nite govern­ ment. Thenceforth we must seek the chiefs of our ancient sept in the muster-rolls of Continental armies, where they in~ variably distinguished themselves as became nien of their high and heroic lineage. Sir Charles O'Toole followed the fortunes of the exiled king, and was attached tp his body-guard at St. Germain's, near Paris, where he died, as became a true Catholic sovereign, 16th September, 1'701, in the sixty-eighth year of his age. Right well, indeed, have the O'Toole~ maintained the moral of the motto blazoned on their armorial bearings--Virtnte et FideLitate, "courageous in adversity, and true to the faith of our fathers !" Regard them as we may, either as soldiers or as ecclesiastics-the two m0st strongly contrasted professions-none have won higher honours in 'both than men of our race. On some priest equal to the task devolves the duty of recording what they have done for religion at home and abroad, and I will there£ ore confine n1yself to a brief notice of their secular career, even at the risk of anticipating O'Callaghan's forth- . con1ing History of the Irish Brigades, which will tell how the O'Tooles and O'Byrnes figured on every battle-field '' from '' Dunkirk to Belgrade." But they were more than chi­ valrous-they were gallant, and might have added to their device, "Honneiir et les Dames," as the following historic fact will prove :- In 1'718 James Francis Edward Stuart, son of Ja1nes the Second, wishing to marry, devolved the choice of his future consort on the brave and accomplished Charles (subsequently Si1· Charles) Wogan, of Rathcoffy, county l(il­ dare, then in the prince's suite. After visiting nearly all the Continental courts, Wogan persuaded himself that there was none so suited to mate with his royal master as the THE O'T·JOLES.

I ,~ b }autiful princess Clementina Sobieski, da.ughter of prirce James Sobieski, whose father defeated the Turks before Vienna, in 1633. Prince James accepted Wogm1's choice, and was duly affianced. The matter, meanwhile, having been taken out of W ogan's hancls by a Scotch intrigue in James's court, and the Elector of Hanover, George I. @f England, becoming aware of it, spared no pains· to prevent a union which was likely to advance the interests of his exiled competitor for the English crown. George, in a word, prevailed on the emperor CharJcs

1, VI. of_Germany, who depended on British aid for the preserva­ ( tion of his Southern Italian dominions against the Spaniards, to J. seize the princess and her mother, and shut them both up in I the castle of Inspruck, in the Tyrol. Here was a fix, and how l was the prince to get possession of his betrothed? Wogan was 1 the only man fit to undertake the work, and Francis Edward )· left it entirely in his hands. vVogan thereon called to his aid three companions in arms, who had figured in n-1any a siege and battle-Major Gaydon, Captains Luke O'Toole and John Missett, all of the Irish Brigade. O'Toole stood over six feet high in his vamps, and, it would appear, was no novice in affairs of this sort. ·Having provided a carriage drawn by six horses, the adventurers, accompanied by M,tdam Missett and her tire-women, set out fron1 Strasbourg for Inspruck, where one of the latter got access to Clementina, who was then sick and in bed. On learning that arrangements had been made for her liberation, she got up, disguised herself in the tire-woman's clothes, and contrived to baffle the vigilance of the· sentinels. Wogan thon placed her in the carriage, and left O'Toole behind to intercept the courier who was sure to be sent in pursuit. This he did effectually, and then hastened to rejoin his companions,· whose remotest ancestors had never lifted so fair " a prey" as the lovely Clementina. On they sped, day and night, seldom halting till they reached Monte­ fiascone, in the Papal States, where the marriage of the · prince and princess was solemnized with great magni- · ficence in 1719. vVe need hardly state that of this august couplQ were born Prince Charles of 1745-6 celebrity, and Car- THE O'TOOLES •. 97

dinal York. Clement ·XL-a true friend to the expa.triated Irish-was so struck by this romantic adventure that he called O'Toole into his presence, congratulated him warmly, and nrnde him a Knight of the Golden Spnr. And, indeed, he deserved it, for his Holiness was the Princess's god-father. ,vhile in R01ne, O?Toole was honoured with a fete on the Ca­ pitoline Hill, where a Yast assemblage gathered to hear a lau­ datory oration pronounced on Clementina, himself, and his chi­ valrous companions. Never since the days of Saint Lorchan was an O'Toole so honoured. in the metropolis of Christend01n. It is hard to say what post of dignity he might not have at­ t,1ined, or 'Yhat patr~cian's daughter he 1night · not have wooed and won, had he remained there; but quiet life was stagna­ tion to a mind like his ; and as there was then plenty of e1n­ pl oyrnent for him in the fighting line, he left the· city of the Cresars, rejoined his regin1ent, and was killed in action agaiust the Germans. Peace to his brave soul, for which I have no doubt the fair princess, the defeated of Culloden, and even Cardinal York often prayed in that beautiful villa of Frascati, where there is a tomb to his Eminence and the young Pretender. Of the other O'Tooles who won laurels abroad, I may mention Nicholas, born in 1707, who received ten wounds at the battle of Dettingen, in 1'743; William, born in.1'745, who was a lieu­ thnant-colonel in 1791, and a Knight of St. Louis. In 1 '792-3 ~ "\Villiam O'Toole was lieutenant-colonel of the 92nd Regiment of ( the Line, then quartered in St. Domingo. Laurence O'Toole of Fairfield, county Wexford, born 1'722 and deceased 1794, served in the lrisli Brigades, and had five sons, of whom Colonel Count John O''roole was considered the handsomest man in France before the Revolution. He mar­ ried the Lady Annesley, and died about 1823. His two brothers, Matthew and Brian, left the French for the English service, and distinguished themselves in the Peninsular war. In 1838, Fran~ois ·O'Toole was a Captain of the '73rd Regiment of the Line in France. Even to this day the name is well represented by an O'Toole, who holds a distinguished place under the Imperial ·Government in the Ile Bourbon. I 98 THE O'TOOLES.

have only to add that Count John OToole, surnamed tlie handsome, (a designatio.n often bestowed on myself in Paris, where I was called "le bea111, Irlandais,") had a son Lorenzo, . who married Miss Hall of Hollybush, Derbyshire, an heiress, and had a son, Lorenzo, who succeeded to his n1other's fortune (£20,000 per annum), and adopted her name. The clan, how­ ever, can well afford this abandonment of an ancient conse­ crated name ; for, thank Heaven, it still abounds, and hand­ some as this Lorenzo may have been, I will not hesitate to assert that we have as handsome, if not handsomer, lads and · lasses in Cill-Mochonoc, Ballyrea, and throughout all Feracu­ alan at this present writing. It will be perceived that I have des:.gm.d'y abstai'led from touching the events which occurred in the county of vVicklow during the insurrection of 1798. I say designedly, for, like Beranger with Waterloo, I resolved to not name it lest the memories it awakens should darken pages which I trust will afford agreeable information, instead of recollections that are calculated to exasperate. The victors and victims of that dis­ astrous epoch have long since gone to their account, and were I to write about them, what could I narrate· but deeds of blood and crime perpetrated by cowardly yeomen, known as " gun­ beggars" and ruffians imported from Hesse and other parts of Germany, who enjoyed a fiendish delight in burning and shoot­ ing down, often in cold blood, a peasantry lashed into resistance by the infamous government of Castlereagh 1 No, I will not attempt even a passing notice of that calamitous year-'' Son nom n'attristera mes page's." So let it sink into oblivion, or, if we ever recall it, let us do so to contrast the happiness we en­ joy with the miseries our fathers had to endure. The grovel­ ling mind may cherish hatred and vindictiveness, but the generous and noble soul will despise and forget injustice and all its accompaniments. A retrospect of quite different character should, to my thinking, close these papers, and show how the children of the O'Byrnes and the O'Tooles clun~ to the ancient faith in days . of persecution, and how, when these had terminated, THE O'TOOLES. 99 they gave out of impoverished means, but hearts rich in charity, pounds and pence, nay, and sweat of brow, to raise churches to the God of their fathers. It is not my business to dwell on those times when a shieling on the hill-side furnished the chapel-when half a dozen keen-eyed mountaineers were told off to whistle the alarm on the priest-catcher's approach; nor shall I do more than allude to that period when, the pressure of penal laws being a little relaxed, the priest himself had to doff his hat to some spawn of a Cron1wellian or Wil­ liamite settler, and with bated breath implore hi1n to ac­ cept security for his "good behaviour." Oh, that I were able to write as I would wish of those venerable priests who, after graduating in Rome, Salamanca, and Louvain, returned to Ire­ land, and an1id perils of every sort k_ept the lamp of faith alive during that long. dark night of sorrow and bondage ! I have known very aged men who Ii ved in those days and witnessed some of the incidents at which l have only glanced, and indeed, were I disposed to record what I gathered from their recollec­ tions, the honest statements I could make would be rejected as exa.ggerations, if not impossibilities, in a country calling itself civilized. But why should~ not rather confine myself to my own ex­ periences of the county of Wicklow, which range over a period of more than thirty years 1 In that interval what changes for the better as far as the religion of the people is concerned ! It is my intention to treat this subject more diffusely in the preface to these poor papers, and for the present my reflections must be narrowed to Enniskerry, whose Celtic etymon signifies the " rocky or stony ford." That beautifully situated viliage owes its origin to the noble house of Wingfield, for I find no niention of it i11 the Inquisitions or in the grant to Sir Richard, the first Viscount of that name. My acquaintance with the locality dates from a very wet winter Sunday some twenty-five years ago, when _on my way to Roundwood I l1alted there and asked a peasant to show me where I 1night hear Mass. "Chapel, sir," he replied, "we have none, but if you cross the wooden-bridge, '' and go to Mrs. Dixon's barn you will find the priest robing 100 THE O'TOOLES.

" I am going there myself." Following my guide I soon found myself in the midst of a crowd gathered in what might be called a bawn, right under a projecting embankment down whose sides the rain-water was channelling several miniature cascades. To reach the interior of the barn was quite out of my power, for it was :filled with women and children, and as I was debating with myself how I could hear Mass without being drenched to the skin, a friend touched me on the shoulder and told me that I could do so by going into Mrs. Dixon's parlour, where an aperture splayed in. the wall afforded a view of the aitar. I accepted the offer, but before turning out of the bawn I could not help admiring the earnest faith and piety of the crowd of men and growing lads kneeling and standing there, with heads reverent and bare despite the down-pour. Ah, thought I to myself, "many waters cannot quencl_i charity," and I doubt that Italy or Spain could exhibit anything like the de­ Totion of these hardy mountaineers. Kneeling at the aperture, I had an unbroken view of the interior of th~ barn, the tem­ porary altar, and the venerable white-haired priest who officiated. The lighted candles enabled me to see the ooze percolating through the thatch, the blackened rafters and the rusted iron hooks, from which the horse-gear had been removed for the 1 Sunday's solemnity. But oh, the devotion of the women and old men who knelt there defies all attempts at description. Never, never can I forget the emotions, so simple, so natural, so religious, which they one and all manifested when the tinkle of the bell announced the consecration. In an instant the murmur of prayer so usual in congregations of the Irish peasantry ceased, upliftedarmswereoutspreadandevery head bowed down to the rut­ ted clay floor, from which they were not lifted again till the cele­ brant striking his breast pronounced in a subdued tremulous tone '' nobis qnoque peccatoribus !i' Never, never, can I forget that Snndayinthe barn of Enniskerry-the hoary old priest, the fer­ vour of the worshippers, th~ plashing of the rain on the thatch, and the roar of the swollen river rushing over its rocky bed. Having engaged an intelligent driver in the village, I resumed my journey, and while toiling up Kiltagaran hill I silently re• THE O'TOOLES. · 1-Jl called every incident I had witnessed in the barn. Well, said I to myself, "were it possible to carry off from St. Peter's one '' of its many chapels, it were well bestowed upon that congrega­ '' tion !" But after all, was there not something poetic, striking, and suggestive in the poverty of that altar and its surroundings ? It lacked, it is true, artistic adornment, but what genius of painter, sculptor, or worker in gold could excel the real decora­ tion: the white-haired, venerable pastor, the faith and piety of the crowd kneeling before it ? Does not the luxury of Christianity consist in its works, and living, •active infl.uP.nces 1 This is true enough ; but why should not such a people have a church, and then again, what is a church ? The material church is called God's House, because God Himself is there pre­ sent with IIis graces to the faithful who make Him a comn1on offering of faith, hope,. and charity.. . Aye, but it is something 1nore-a permanent and palpab1e expression of the internal worship of those who assemble within its precincts ; and since that worship is not individual, but social, it should possess artistic forms in harmony with the time in which that society exists. In short, a church. should be a sensible personifica- · tion of the mystic body of the faithful, and, as far as possible, a type or representation of what they are to be in heaven, with the least possible allusion to their transitory ~ondition here on earth. 'Nell, in that wretched barn w ha,t was there except the altar to elevate the souls of the worshippers, or to awaken thoughts of heaven, where humanity must reach the goal of its pilgrin1age ·1 Pa.inting, sculpture, psaln1ody, and the like, were not there ; and as my reflections traverse the centuries, the only place I can rest on like that out of which I ha.ve just come, is the stable of Bethlehem, squalid, cheerless, and divested of anything that could induce one to pause an instant beneath its roof, save the presence of the Divine Infant, IIis n1aiclen­ n10ther, and holy reputed-father. Are the people of Ennis­ kerry and its neighbonr~10od dead to sentiments such as these, or is it possiule tha.t the numerous descendents of a clan that may justly boast of having one of their own blood raised to the honours of the Christian altar, refuse to erect an edifice 102 THE O'TOOLES.

somewhat suited for the august sacrifice 1 After indulging this reverie till we reached the top of that wearisome hill, I asked · the driver, "Why don't the Catholics of Enniskerry build a decent church?" "Is it a chapel you mean, sir?" was the reply. " Well, yes, a chapel if you like, although I must tell you that "that is a term misused, and often used contemptuously to '' designate our poor churches by ignorant bigots, who either do "not know or for get that there is not a granEl. old place of worship "from St. Patrick's in Dublin to the Rock of Cashel that was '' not built by Catholics. I remember hearing a purse-proud, '' bigoted bosthoon saying, in Rome, that St. Peter's was the "finest Roman Catholic chapel he ever saw. But why don't y0u ''build a church'and call it by its proper name, even at the risk '' of astonishing your dissenting neighbours ?" '' Bedad, sir, we'd_ '' do so if we could, and right willingly would we give all we '' could scrape together, and a day's work from time to time "if we could get a site. But the priest applied for it '' and was refused by---, who said that he thought '' one chapel in Ireland one to much." '' That is strange," I re­ marked, '' for I remember having seen that personage in Rome "in St. Peter's and in the Pope's private chapel-the Sistina­ '' where every deference was paid to his rank. Surely after "haYing seen such sights, and experienced such marked civilities ,; from the representative of the oldest and most august monarchy "in tlile world, - will not deny those who _swell his rent-roll a '' few perches of ground whereon to raise a church-surely he '' will not condemn them to worship in that reeking barn." '' " There's no use, sir, in pressing the matter now," continued "1ny c@mpanion, everything that could be done has been tried, " and we must only wait for better times. If they come, you "n1ay rest as.3ured that the people will do their duty ; 'if not, we '' can only trust that God will be pleased to hear our prayers "even in the 1niserable barn." "Who," I inquired, "is Mrs. " Dixon-for the name is not a Catholic one-is she of our '' religion 1" '' Indeed she is, sir, and a good one ; may the '' Lord prolong her life ! She settled in Enniskerry more " than forty years ago, made money, was liberal and generous THE O'TOOLES. 103

"to every priest in the parish, and when the old place where "Mass used to be said lower down on the river-bank was "found to be too small, she gave the parish priest and '' people the use of the barn, and had all the carts tilted outside " on Saturday night, to make room for the congregation on " Sunday. She is a very old woman now, though she doesn't "look it, and has a very fine memory. Many a queer story "she could tell you if you'd like to listen to her. Her- " self and Granny Toole are the two oldest women in the '' parish ; but l\frs. Dixon, Lord prosper her ! is a better " and civiller spoken woman than Granny, who could discourse "you about the breed, seed, andgeneration of everyman, woman, "and child, from the Scalp to the brakes of Ballinascorney. "Granny, sir, is never done boasting that she's one of the ; "real old stock." Granny, thought I, might, perhaps, be in- : teresting if I required to know anything about the O'Tooles, I . but that widow, so charitable, so uncompro1nising, interests me I more. The little I have heard re111inds me of her of Sarephta, [ I who in evil times shared her n1eal with the prophet-the fore- runner of the priest. May Elias's · blessing accompany her­ may she never see the poli of meal waste, nor the cruse of oil diminish! And should IIeaven perinit, when I return to Ire­ land, I'll deem it a sacred duty to visit her, if happily she should be still in the land of the living. That night I took leave of poor Bott at 1\1 urphy's Hotel, Roundwood, but before parting I told him that if I ever re­ turned to Ireland, after a protracted sojourn on the Continent, I would certainly revisit Enniskerry, to see if the present generation of the O'Tooles were what he represented them. Next n1orning, after kneeling a moment or two on the shattered flag-stone that marked the burial-place of the princes of the O'Tooles in Glen-da-loch, I hurried on to Glenmalure, to bid adieu to some valued friends there, and on the evening of that clay I crossed the Channel for the Continent. In the interval I witnessed n1any extraordinary events and acted my part in life's drama as I ought. I visited Arras, • memorable for the bravery of the Irish, commanded by Owen 1 104 THE o'TOO~E~ I· ______

I Roe O'Neill (1642); Fontenoy, where O'Tooles of the :Drigade · helped to beat the English; Cremona, where they signalised themselves under O'Brien and O']Iahony, and many another victor-field where Irish blood maintained the honour of the old land. My touring was not like that of many who waste time and money inspecting the shop-fronts of Conthiental ! cities, and begniling listlessness in theatres and coffee-house5. I The national r:eligious festivities of Belgium had especial attrac- . tion for me, and I assisted at most of them in Brussels, Louvain, and the magnificent cathedral of Antwerp, where the genius of Rubens would almost make you believe that you were living more than eighteen centuries back, and looking at the Ta~ing down fr01n the Cross. Grand beyond all power of describing were those magnificent solemnities-ineffably sublime when a thousand voices commingling with the brass instruments of military bands and the rolling diapason of the organ, filled the sacred edifices with harmony, and sounded, as some one has properly remarked, like the regular flux and reflux of billows

1 poured out from the heart, and booming on the shore of Eternity and the ears of God. But· amid them all-in marble temples and before altars rich in all wherewith wealth or art could adorn them-I never for an instant forgot the barn of Enniskerry, and the devout congregation that I saw within and without its walls, that memorable winter Sunday. Back once more in the land of n1y birth, I resolved to see with my own eyes if all I heard about Euniskerry was true, and with this intent I waited on a reverend friend, a part of whme life-course ran for a while close with my own-a n1an rich] y dowered with genius, without a trace of selfishness in his na­ ture, frank and hospitable-and asked hiin to accompany me to the residence of Mrs. Dixon. He complied with n1y request, and on entering the village of Enniskerry whispered in n1y ear, "we must not approach the widow empty-handed, for she. has '' had sore trials and is now very poor." While he was purchas­ ing some tea and sugar for her, I could not help asking 1ny­ self has my prayer been unheard-has the meal wasted, and the oil~cruse diminished 1 but a moment's reflection satisfied me T1IE 0 1TOOLES. 105

that such could not be the case, and the charity of my friend left no doubt that my apprehension was unfounded. Pass­ ing through the village I uoticed no change since my first flying visit; the same non-I:,.-ish names were on the sign-boards; no, · new houses had sprung up; the same listless idlers, though now grown older, lounged at the door of the hotel, and pipe in · mouth gazed at the clock as if endeavouring to resolve that difficult question, " what is time 1" It seemed in short. the same do-nothing, sleepy hollow that I ieft it years ago. We had not, however, gone many paces· when I ob­ served that the old wooden bridge had disappeared for a grace­ ful arch of stone, and that the hill on n1y left was. crowned by a handsome church and a handsome residence for the priest. _ "There," said he, "look at that evidence of a. people's devotion, "and let us hasten to Mrs. Dixon. I will leave you with her, as. '' I have duties to discharge; you can gossip with her as long as '' you like, and I am sure you will find her an interesting chro­ ,, nicler.'' My kind friend then handed the poor woman what he had bought for her com.fort,. took.his leave, and.left us alone. A single glance at the apartment convinced me that want had overtaken the widow in her extreme old age, and tha.t her eyes were failing her. She assured me that she had passed her ninetieth year, and had seen five lords of Powerscourt in her time. As for the change in her fortunes, it was not of her own making, and she resigned herself to it as the dispensation of the ~11-wise God. "But," I asked, "what has become of the barn?" "It is still standing" she replied, ''but empty." "How long was it used for sacred purposes 1" "Over sixty years-ever since I settled in Enniskerry, till the new church was built." "In what year were you born?" ''In 1770, at the White House of Kilgo b bin. '' I was married in 1800, by Father Flood of Sandyford, and "with my husband came to reside in Enniskerry two years " afterwards.,, "You ha.ve seen a numerous succession of priests. in Enniske-rry in your day.'' "Oh, aye, a great many; but they "are all dead and gone. · Father Callaghan, Father Doyle,, "Father Roche, and others whose names I forget, used to say "Mass in the barn, and I often thank God for having had

Q 106 THE o'TOOLES.

'' such a blessing; go into the barn and look at it, for the window " in the parlour where the quality used to kneel is bricked up-. '' it ought to be a holy place, for it once sheltered the altar from " the rain and storm in the bit~er bad days. I am very feeble, '' kind sir, and you will excuse me if I cannot talk much. Some "other time, if you pass this way, I'd like to see you and the ''good Father--, who has just left." " I trust you have some "kind friends who look after you and see that you don't want 1" "Ah, sir, I have a son who is njgh seventy, and I am grateful " to God for the one or two friends who now and again cross my " threshold." " Do you remember Henry Grattan ?" " Is it '' Grattan of Tinahinch 7 Indeed I do, and well. He was a kind " man, and· up to a short time ago I had a letterwhich he wrote " me fro1n London, with a cheque for five pounds to buy c~rn "for the poor birds that were dying in the hard, hard winter. " Ah, sir, he could feel for every sort of suffering ; but "next time you come perhaps I n1ay be able to find the letter.'' Unwilling to tease the poor creature with further questions, I gazed intently on her wasted.features, and thought to myself what a crowd of memories lies dormant in that aged brain ! May not this old woman resemble the celebrated Countess of Des- 111011d, who is said to have lived over one hundred·and twenty years 1 Above all, has she not been an instrument in God's hands to afford priests and people facilities for per£ orming the most sacred duties of religion 1 and now . Taking leave of her, [ made my way to the en1pty barn, and knelt on the spot where the poor altar once stood. Pausing on the bridge, I contemplated the new church on the hill, and then, looking to the right, could not help thinking that down there was the de profnndis of the Catholics of Enniskerry in the olden time. Yonder, to the left, is the Tabor, where a transfiguration has been wrought, the possibility of which no one would have dreamt of fifty years ago. An able writer has said that Saint Peter's rose to give the he sternly and magnificently to those who asserted that Ca­ tholicity was dead. vVill not this church of Enniskerry repeat the same proud denial, nay, and stand as an adaman- THE o'TOOLES. 107 tine contradiction to those who would gainsay the devotedness of the O'Tooles to the faith of their fathers 1 It cannot be doubted that in penal times the Wingfields did what cannot be done again ; but no matter how they acted, t4,e shadow cast by that new church suffices to cover the chronicle of misdeeds and prajudices, which should be sought for in the moon, where lost things are said to be deposited. And, indeed, it is only just to state that the present noble owner of the honours of Powers­ court has_ entitled· himself to the love and respect of his numerous tenantry in Wicklow as well as Tyrone, for in both places he has proved himself a model landlord, tolerant, im­ proving, and ready to sympathise with the humblest day­ labourer on his estates. His solicitude for their education and material comforts is well known, and makes me regret that we have not a hundred more like him and his good agent, Mr. Posnet, to deal with a people who can appreciate kindness and reciprocate it warmly and with interest. Touching the new church, I will merely state that its first stone was blessed in 1858 by the most reverend Paul, now cardinal-archbishop of Dublin, and successor of Saint Lorchan, who, unlike the wretched schismatic Browne, has no reason to be afraid. of the O'Tooles. The dedication was duly performed on Sunday, October 2, 1859, when the most reverend the arch­ bishop of Cashel pronounced a sermon whose inspiration was derived fron1 the general history of Catholicity in Ireland, and its vicissitudes in the ancient territory of Feracualan. His Grace's oration, which I have read with pleasure and instruc­ tion, paid -a deserved tribute of praise to Lord Powerscourt's 111other, and attested the liberality of her noble son, who on coming of age made the Catholics of this portion of his domai:p.s a free grant for ever of the site now occupied by St. Mary's. From a newspaper detailing the events of th~t day, ·I learn that many distinguished Protestants-among others Lord Monck and ·sir George Hodson-were 1nunifi.cent contributors to the building ; and that of the distinguished Catholic pa­ rishioners none acted more generously than the Right Ho­ nourable J\'.Ir. Justice Keogh and family, whose kindness to the 108 THE· O'TOOLES clergy has at all times been proverbial. Now, by way of ~olophon to these papers, let me be permitted to express a 1,iope that some one better able-.some one, in a word, with genius ~or' the work---,,,.will take up, the subject, over which I have barely f;lkimmed,. and supplement my shortcomings, for they are many.. ~et me also be permitted to, deplore that. death carried off poor Bott, the driver, before I had opportunity to congratulate him on the just estimate, he formed of the O'Tooles, who aided -the. building not only with their· purse, -but with the willing· ~apourof their hands. May the day soon come when its, bell­ ~ower shall rise. high and graceful above th~ surrounding· ~oveliness of a scene so richly blessed •by nature ; and may the en.tire structure remain for ever· a monument to the piety and ~al of a people, unsurpassed for devotedness to the ancient Qi;e~d of their fathers. !. APPENDIX.

CASE OF THE BYRNES FROM CARTE'S* ORMOND. One case in truth was very extraordinary, and contains in it such a 1:1cene of iniquity and cruelty, that considered in all its circum:. stances, is scarce to be paralleled in the history of any age or any country. . Pheagh M~c Rugh Byrne, lord of the Byrne's country, now called Ranelagh in the county of \Vick.low, being killed in arms towards the.later end of the reign of Elizabeth, she by her letters to Loftus and Gardiner then lords justices, directed letters patent to be made out for Phelim M'Pheagh his eldest son, to have to him and his heirs the country and lands of which his father Pheagh M.ae Hugh died seized. King James coming to the crown not long after, did in the begin;. ning of his reign, give the like directions for passing the said in-: heritance to Phelim. This Sir· Richard Graham, an old officer of · the army, endeavoured to obstruct and in order thereto, sued out a commission directed to- sir William Parsons and others, to,:inquire into the said lands ; and upon the inquisition they were found to be the inheritance of Pheagh M 'Hugh Byrne father of Phelim, and were then in Phelim M. 'Pheagh's possession. King James thereupon by a second letter, directed that Ranelagh and all the lands whereof Phelim M'Pheagh and Bryan his son and heir were then seized, should be passed to them and their heirs by letters patent. In consequence whereof another office was taken on which the lands were found as in the former. The first office however was not as yet filled, sir Richard Graham having e,pposed it, an(l by his interest and the credit of a general book which he produced, got possession of part of Phelim's lands, in virtue of a warrant from the lord deputy. Sir James Fitz-Piers-Fitz-Gerald attempted likewise to get another part of them passed to him upon the like authority ; but Bryan the son, in whose possession they were, complaining of it at the council table, Sir J ames's patent was stayed. Encouraged by this success Bryan applied himself next to the king for redress against Sir Richard Graham, complaining that contrary to his majesty's letters, part of his lands had been passed-to the said Sir Richard. King James directed the cause to be heard in the council board in Ireland, and certificate to be made of the truth. At the hearing Sir Richard alleged that the lands were the inheri­ tance of certain freeholders, and not of Phelim and his ancestors : and ~a commission was ordered for examining witnesses upon this

* Carte was a distinguished divine of the English Protestant church~ He published, in 1735-6, his celebrated Life of the Duke of Ormond. 110 APPENDIX.

fact. The council certified the king of their proceedings, and Sir Richard Graham or an agent duly authorized by him were required to repair into England; Sir Richard sent his son vVilliam, who thought to get Bryan's appeal dismissed by the help of the duke 0£ Buckingham, and preferred a petition to the king, which the duke seconded. But the duke of Richmond being present, and knowing the case, acquainted his majesty with the true state of the matter. The King thereupon referred the hearing and determinating of it, to the two dukes, who appointed Sir Dudly Norton, Sir J?rancis Annesley, Sir Henry Bourchier, and Mr. Richard Hardress, one of the king's learned council for the affairs of Ireland, to hear the matter and certify the fact. vVhen the cause was· heard before these commissioners, Sir William Parsons produced before them a book of his own writing, calculated to prove the lands in question to be the inheritance of freeholders, contrary to the office which had been found before Sir William himself, and the other which had been taken (as is said above) in virtue of King James's second letter. But the commissioners giving more credit to those offices than to his book, · Sir William and Mr. Graham seeing the matter were likely to go in favour of Phelim, started an objection, which effectuallyprevented a final determination of that suit. It was a fetch indeed that could not fail of success; for they un­ dertook, with the assistance of lord Esmond and Redmond M 'Pheagh, to entitle the king to the lands, or the greatest part of them, and to prove that they were really vested in the crown. This immedia­ tely 'stepped the proceedings of the commissioners, who would give no sentence in a case, where the crown was concerned, the right whereof they had no authority to determine. Propositions for the· benefit and service of the prince are always favourably received, and a commission was easily obtained empower­ ing Sir William Parsons and others to inquire of the said lands. Bryan acquainting the duke of Richmond with this, his grace wrote himself to the lord deputy, and engaged the king and council of Bngland to send directions to him to stay the commission. Not­ withstanding which, the commissioners went on with it, and an office was found that all the said lands were the inheritance of Pheagh Mac Hugh {Phelim's father) who died in rebellion. But as queen Elizabeth had afterwards granted them to Phelim and his heirs, and the king had confirmed the same by his letters, this office need not have hindered the passing of them to Phelim and Bryan, who were by those letters, entitled to Pheagh's whole inheritance. This however, could not be obtained, the lands being intended to pass into other hands. Bryan acquainted the .king with these proceedings and intentions, and got his majesty's letter to the lord deputy and lord chancellor of Ireland, directing that none of the said lands should pass by letters patent, lease or otherwise, till the matter was heard at the council table in England. It hap­ oened, unluckily for Bryan, that the .duke of Buckingham went APPENDIX. 111

for Spain before Sir Dudley Norton ancl the other commissioners had made their report, and was so taken up after his return, that he could not meet the duke Qf Richmond to settle and de­ cide the affair; but he had a much greater misfortune in the · sudden death of the latter, which happened soon after, and left Phelim and Bryan without a patron in the court of England. Their enemies soon mar1e an adv,mt,1,_ge of it, and Sir VVilliam Parsons got the lord deputy's warrant to the sheriff of VVicklow, to put him in possession of part of their lands. The sheriff accordingly gitve Sir William possession of that part which Phelim enjoyed; but B:·yan still kept the other part which was in his own hands. Lord .. E:imond tp.ereupon sent for him, and would have persuaded him to refer the matter to his decision, which Bryan declined, knowing that his lordship was a confederate with his adversary, as appeared after­ wards, when that lord and Sir William Parsons shared thP- lands between them. This refusal lord Esmond resented, and Sir William Parsons afterwards sued Bryan, in the exchequer for the lands, of which he still retained the possession; but his bill was dismissed. Lord Esmond however, persisted in troubling him for those ver>' lands ; but Bryan maintaining his right, he and his brother Torlogh were, by their adversaries' practices, committed close prisoners to Dnblin castle, on March 13th, 1625, upon the information of Thomas Archer, Dermot J\1 'Griffin, Cahir, lVIac Edmond, Mac Art, and Torlogh Duffe, all three of the name of Cavanagh. This last had. formerly plundered one of Phelim's tenant's houses, and carried off the man's wife and cows. Phelim being a justice of peace and of the Quorum, upon his tenant's complaint, issued a warrant to apprehend Torlogh Dnffe, who fled first into the county of Carlow, and from thence into that of Kilkenny, where he was apprehended, and then by way of revenge, and to s:we his Jife, accused Bryan and his brother Torlogh. Archer did not so readily submit to be an evidence. He was first miserably tortured, put naked on a burning grid-iron, then on a brand-iron, and burnt with gunpowder under his buttocks and flanks, and at last suffered the strappado, till he was forced to accuse the two brothers, and then he obtained his pardon. Dermot .Mac Griffin, and Cahir l\iac Art, were afterwards executed at Kil~ kenny, declaring at the hour of death, that they had accused Bryan · and Torlogh Byrne fal$lely. Such were the witnesses that deposecl acrainst them : Yet on their information, two bills were preferrerl against them, and two several grand jnries in the county of Carlow, not finding the bills, were prosecuteLl in the Star cham­ ber, and fined. The two brothers however were still kept close prisoners, till the 20th of August following, when Torlogh was ei1largell upon bail to appear on ten days wa.rning, and Bryan wac; allowed the liberty or the house. This still disabling him from taking care of his affairs, he petitioned the council, who referring the matter to Lord Aungier and the lord chief justiee, Bryan was set at liberty on Christmas­ eve, but bound to appear in court the first day of the next term. I 112 .APPENDIX,

He appeared accordingly, and nothing was alleged against him ; yet the lord chief justice was for binding him over to the term following. Bryan opposed this, urging that it was the motion of his adversaries, and intended only to keep him from following his business; and

James M'Elife brother in law to Murrogh and Brian Cavanagh were made use· of for the same purpose ; one Notter a notorious thief had been prosecuted so hard by Phelim for stealing seven cows and five garrons from his tenants, that he was forced to fly the county of vVick.low, where two indictments for those thefts were found against him, and being afterwards condemned for a robbery in the North, he was sent back to Dublin to purchase his life, by accusing Phelim and his sons, for which he likewise was rewarded with apparel and other necessaries. Gerald McForderough, brother-in-law to Shane Bane, (who being in rebellion, was apprehended by Phelim's son Hugh, and executed) had been at the lent assizes prosecuted by PheJim for robbing his house, and being put in irons in the castle of Dublin for another crime which he confessed, w~s yet to•join in the accusation. Edmond Duffe had been prosecuted by Mrs. W olver­ stone, Phelim's daughter, and condemned for burglary. He was afterwards carried to the gallows, and being ready to be turned off, promised to accuse Phelim, and was saved from execution. Lisagh Duff Mac Lochlin, a common thief, had at the Wicklow assizes upon the prosecution of Luke Byrne, Phelim's nephew, for stealing an hol'se been condemned, but was on his accusing Phelim set at liberty. Such were the witnesses made use of in this affair, none of whom were produced in person; and yet it was resolved to find a bill against Phelim, and his five sons at Wicklow assizes; upon the bare reading of those, or some of these fellow's examinations, which (as the men could speak only Irish) were most of them taken by sir Henry Belling's and Mr. Graham's interpretations. The lord chief justice upon most of the evidence expressed a doubt, whether the jury could credit it. Upon which Mr. Henry Belling pressed him to sign the bill, and said he would undertake that the jury should find it. Proper means indeed were taken for it, and lord .Esmond had got Piers Sexton, who had married his niece, and was a tenant to sir \Villiam Parsons, to be made high sheriff for the job, though he had no such freehold as would by statute qualify him for serving that office. A grand jury was impannelled. Sir James Fitz-Piers Fit.z-Gera'.d, a mortal enemy of Phelim and his family, and who had a promise of part of Phelim's estate, or an equivalent in lieu thereof, was the foreman, though he had no land in the county. Sir Henry Belling, who hall actually got possession of part of the said estate, was the second; most of the rest were not freeholders, and all of them were allied to or dependents on lord Esmond, sir William Parsons and others who had interest in Phelim's estate. 'Tis no wonder that such a jury. found the bill, which was followed two days after by the death of Phelim's wife, who expired of grief to see her husband's and children's lives and fortunes put into such hands, and exposed to such imminent danger. She was buried in \Vicklow, and her body dug up three weeks afterw_ards. Though the grand jury had thus found the bill, yet other witnesses were necessary for the tryal of the parties. Sir Henry Belling (who never stuck at any practice 114 APPENDIX. nowever execrable to carry his point) and Mr. William (son of sir Richard Graham) who had got into possession of part of Phelim's estate of Gosha, undertook the finding of them. · · They were both of them provost marshals, and exerted all the power of their posts for that purpose. 'Tis almost incredible what a number of persons they took up, and detained in prison for weeks and months together, soliciting them all the while with promises of reward, and threats of hardship, eve:p. c,f ·death itself, to accuse the gentlemen whose inheritance they wanted to seize. Some they put to the racks, others were tried a.nd condemned by martial law, at a time when· the courts of justice were sitting. Some of the latter who were executed in Dublin, as Shane O'Toole, Lachlin O'Clary, Cahir Glass and his brother declartd at their death, in the hearing of thousands, that they were executed, because they could not accuse Phelim anJ. his sons ; and the like declarations were made by others who suffered in the country. Some friends of th~ persecuted gentlemen learning by how infamous and detestable methods their lives and estates were attacke,l, ma

THE LAMENT FOR FEA.GH J'.\1:AC HUGH O'BYRNE. In the Library of Trinity College, Dublin, is preservecl an ancient Gaelic volume, known as "The Book of the O'Byrnes," in whic:h are contained many metrical compositions relating to that family and clan, by their hereditary bards, the McKeoghs. One of the most touching and beautiful of these is, the Lamentation of Daniel :Mc.Keogh for the death of Feagh, of which we have been fur- APPENDIX. 115

n1sned with a literal translation, by the distinguished Irish · scholar, W. M. Hennessy, M.R.I.A., and which we rendered into English as follows, preserving, as well as we could, the spirit of the original:- W oe is me ! ah, woe is me ! and endless is my grief, Because I've seen the severed head of my beloved chief ; Not mine alone the bitter dole ; full well may Ireland mourn The traitor's blow that laid thee low, brave Feagh Mac Hugh O'Byrne ! I wish my eyes were blind before I saw""that ghastly face, I wish the limbs had withered up that bore me to the place; I wish that I had never l'isen when fever struck me down, Ere I beheld that gory head in hateful Dublin town ! Woe is me ! oh, woe is me ! that I had ears to hear The bitter news that Feagh was slain like wild beast in his lair ; I felt the words go through my heart, I felt my blood run cold, And like one dead I fell to earth ere half the tale was told. My curse be on him night and day, God's curse be on him too, The heartless wretch whose words betrayed the generous son of Hugh; · Our clans will miss his sheltering arm, the Church a bounteous hand, And strangers now unchecked will rob and ravage through the land. They've borne his head across the sea, a butt for gibe and sporh, To England's fierce and bloody queen and all her· cruel court. Oh God! 'tis hard that this should be, and we to do no more Than keen him on the echoing hills, and weep him on the shore. God rest his soul, my chief, my prince, our land is low to day .. We have no ships to sail the sea, no troops in proud array, Yet have we men in pass and glen who yet shall make -return }for that base blow that laid thee low. bra.vP. Feagh MacHugh O'Byrne.

The following song was sung when the unfortunate King James entered Dublin, before the battle of the Boyne:-

I. "Play, piper-play, piper ; Come lasses dance and sing, And old harpers strike up, To harp for the king ! He is come-he is come, Let us make Ireland ring 116 .APPENDIX,

With a loud shout of welcome­ May God save the king·!

II. Bring ye flow'rs-bring ye flow'rs, The fresh flow,rs of spring, To strew in the pathway Of James, our true king ! And, better than flow'rs, May our good wishes bring A long life of glory To James, our true king!

III. Huzza, then-huzza, then, The news on the wing! · Triumphant he comes Amid shouts for the king! All blessings attend him, May_ ev'ry good thing Be show'red on the brave head Of James, our true king !"

BILLY BYRNE OF BALLYMANUS. [From MacCabe's '' Reoollections" MS. penes _me J. O'T.] Uome, all you loyal heroes, I pray yo1.1'll lend an ear, And listen to those verses I am going to declare, Concerning Billy Byrne, of fame and high renown, \Vho was tried and hanged in vVicklow as a traitor to the crown. In the year of '98, brave boys, we got reason to complain, We lost our chief commander, Billy Byrne was his name, In Dublin he was taken and brought to Wicklow gaol, And to our great misfortune for him they'd take no bail. \Vhen he was taken prisoner the traitors all came in, There was Dixon, Doyle, Toole, Davis, and likewise Bid Dolin, r hey thought it little scruple his precious blood to spill, And deprive the county \Vicklow of the flower of Pleasant-hill. Now that they had him taken, they home against him swore, That he upon Mount Pleasant a captain's title bore, And the king's grand army before his men he did review, And with one piece of cannon marched on to Carrigrue. It would melt your heart with pity how the traitors all agreed, That at his father's table so frequently did feed .APPENDIX. 117

And in his brother's kitchen where many did him see, Sure the Byrnes were well rewarded for their hospitality. It would make your heart to bleed how the traitor did expl~in, He swore Byrne worked the cannon on Arklow,s blooclr pla11:1,­ He swore he worked the cannon, that the pikemen he did drill, And on his retreat to Gorey three loyalists did kill. My curse on you Mat Davis, I will not curse your soul, It was at the bench of Wicklow you swore without control, You thought it little scruple his precious blood to spill, That never r0bbed, nor burned, nor any man did kill. Where are the odious traitors-why onward don't they come, To prosecute those prisoners that now are in Rathdrum? The devil has them fast in chains repenting for their sins, In lakes of fire and brimstone, and sulphur to their chins. Wh~n the devil saw them coming he s~ng a pleasant song, . Saymg,you're welcome, Matthew Davis, ah! what kept you so long? Where is the traitor Dixon, to the crown so loyal and true? Sure I have a warm corner for cursed Bid Dolin too. Success to Billy Byrne, may his fame for ever shine, Through Holland, France, and Flanders, and all along the Rhme, May the Lord have mercy on him, and all such men as he, That stand upright for Ireland's cause, and die for liberty.

POSTSCRIPT.

ANXIOUSNESS to preser~e the ipsissima verba-the very words­ of n1y revered preceptor, Father F--, has caused me to com-:­ n1it a mistake by stating that '\Volf Tone was born in the vi­ cinity of Boclenstown_. Dublin was his birth-place; but his ancestors came from the county of Kildare. This, doubtless, will account for Father F--'s n1isconception. " To err," says Cicero, " is human, hut to persevere in error is the action of a bosthoon." J. O'T.

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ERRATA. (Preface), P. iii., for "Yase," read "verse.'' P. xix., for '' guarnering," read '' guarnerius." P. xxxi., twelve lines from . bottom of page, the word '' home" omitted. P. cxx., for " astrologist," read "astrologer.'' P. vxii. (Note, O'Tooles), St. Mary's Abbey, Dublin, was or1g1• nally founded (says vYare) for the Benedictines, A.n., 948, but re­ formed to Cistercians 1189.

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