Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB
[merged small][merged small][merged small][graphic][merged small]

THERE are few things that afford us a higher pleasure than | to observe our metropolis and our provincial cities and towns, despite of adverse circumstances, increasing in the number and splendour of their public buildings, for they are sure evidences of the advance of civilization, with its attendant train of arts, amongst us, and that we are progressing to the rank and dignity of a great nation. Yet we confess we enjoy a still higher gratification when we see springing up around us great architectural works of another class-those erected by individuals of the aristocracy as residences for themselves and those who are to come after them. Such architectural works are not merely interesting from the gratifications they afford to the feeling of taste, and the epic dignity and beauty which they contribute to landscape scenery, but have a higher interest as pledges to the nation that those who have erected them have a filial attachment to the soil which gave them birth, and which supplies them, whether for good or evil, with the means of greatness; and that they are not disposed to play the part of unwise and ungrateful children. To us it little matters what the creed or party of such individuals may be; however they may err in opinions, their feelings are at heart as they should be. The aristocrat of large means, who is resident not from necessity but from choice, and who spends a

portion of his wealth in the adornment of his home, is rarely, if ever, a bad landlord. Desiring to see art and nature combine to produce the sentiment of beauty in the objects immediately about him, he cannot willingly allow it to be associated with the unsightly and discordant emblems of penury and sorrow. To be indifferent about the presence of such accompaniments would be an anomaly in human character, and only an excep.. tion proving the general rule. It is this class of men that we want-men who seek happiness in their legitimate homes, and the diffusion of blessings among those to whom it is their duty to be protectors-lovers of the arts of refined society, not the gross and generally illiterate pursuers of field sports, which, by hardening the heart towards the lower animals of creation, prepares it for reckless indifference to the wants and sufferings of our fellow men. Had we more of such patriotsmore of such domestic architectural buildings starting into existence, evidencing as well their refined tastes and habits as the sincerity of the love they bear their native land, we should soon see the face of our country changed, and peace and happiness smiling around us. We do not, however, indulge in any feelings of despondence for the future. Very many beautiful creations of the architectural art have recently been erected in Ireland, and we have little apprehension that they

will not increase in number till our island shall rival any other portion of the empire in the possession of such characteristic features of civilization and beauty. Cheered by such pleasing anticipations, we shall endeavour to the best of our ability to make our readers familiar with the architectural styles of the chief residences of our nobility and gentry, as well as with the general features of the scenery in which they are situated; and, as a commencement, we have selected the seat of the Vernons the recently re-erected Castle of Clontarf. The name of this locality, which is situated on the northern shore of the Bay of Dublin, and about two miles from the city, must at least be familiar to most of our readers, being memorable in history as the scene of the most national and best contested battle ever fought in Ireland, when in 1014 the monarch Brian Boru obtained a decisive victory over the united forces of the Danish and Norwegian invaders of the British islands, assisted by the Irish troops of a recreant King of Leinster. This name signifies in English the lawn or recess of the bull, being formed from two Celtic words, cluain, a lawn or pastoral plain, and tarbh, a bull; the latter appellation expressing its contiguity to one of the two great sandbanks of the bay, now called the North and South Bulls, from the similitude of the sounds produced by the breaking of the sea upon their shores, to the roar of animals of that denomi

nation.

As it is stated that a church or monastery was founded here as early as the year 550, it is probable that this name is of ecclesiastical origin, and that the site of that ancient church is still marked by the present parish one from which it was derived. But, however this may be, immediately after the settlement of the Anglo-Normans, the lands of Clontarf and Santry, constituting one knight's fee, were granted by Hugh de Lacy, Lord of Meath, to one of his followers, named Adam de Feipo, or as the name is now written, Phepoe, by whom, as is generally supposed, the Castle of Clontarf was erected, and its lands created a manor. This manor, as well as its castle, appears, however, to have passed very soon after into the possession of the Knights Templars, by whom a commandery of the Order, dependent upon their splendid establishment at Kilmainham, was placed here. Upon the suppression of the Templars, their manor of Clontarf was granted, in 1311, to Richard de Burgo, Earl of Ulster, the religious edifices upon it remaining in the king's hands as a royal house; and in 1326, Roger le Ken had a grant of the premises in Clontarf, which he had heretofore occupied at will, to hold henceforth to him and the heirs of his body. Towards the close of the same century, however, in obedience to the Pope's decree in reference to the lands of the Templars, the manor passed into the possession of the Knights Hospitallers of St John of Jerusalem, on which Clontarf became a preceptory of that Order, and a chief seat of the Grand Prior of Kilmainham. It seems somewhat probable, however, that the descendants of Roger le Ken still continued to hold the manor as lessees of the Hospitallers till the dissolution of the Order, as, immediately previous to that event, on an inquisition taken, the Prior of Kilmainham was found seised of the manor, rectory, tithes, and altarages of Clontarf, subject, however, to a lease made in the year 1538 to Matthew King (a corrupted form perhaps of the name Ken) of all the town and lordship, with the appurtenances, and also the pool of Clontarf, and the island lying to the west side thereof, and all the said rectory, tithes, &c. to endure for nine years. In this demise it was provided that the lessee should repair the manor-house and maintain a sufficient person to administer all sacraments to the parishioners at their proper charges. On the suppression of the monastic order in the thirty-second year of Henry the Eighth, Sir John Rawson, the Prior of Kilmainham-a very distinguished man, who had at various periods held the office of Treasurer of Ireland-having, with the consent of his Chapter under their common seal, surrendered the hospital with its dependencies into the King's hands, he was created Viscount of Clontarf in 1541, on a representation made to his majesty by the Lord Deputy, with a pension of five hundred marks, in right of which dignity he sat in the parliament of that year.

In the year 1600, the manor, territory, tithes, town, and lordships of Clontarf, as enjoyed by the Priors of Kilmainham, were granted by Queen Elizabeth to Sir Geoffry Fenton, who had filled the office of Secretary of State for Ireland; and on his death in 1608 these premises were further assured to his son Sir William, who had a confirmation of this manor in 1637, under the commission for the remedy of defective

titles. Yet it appears that very shortly afterwards, the manor, however acquired, was again in the possession of a member of the King family; for, on the breaking out of the rebellion of 1641, the town, manor-house, &c. of Clontarf, then the property of Mr George King, were burnt by Sir Charles Coote as a punishment for the supposed participation of that gentleman in a plunder made of a cargo from a vessel which lay there, by Luke Netterville and his adherents. King was shortly afterwards attainted, a reward of £400 offered for his head; and his estates, comprising this manor, Hollybrook, and the island of Clontarf, containing, as stated, 961 acres statute measure, were bestowed by Cromwell on Captain John Bakewell, who afterwards sold the estate to John Vernon, a scion of the noble Norman family of the De Vernons, and from whose brother the present proprietor descends.

In 1660, Colonel Edward Vernon, the son of John Vernon, passed patent for this manor in fee, together with all anchorages, fisheries, creeks, sands and sea-shores, wrecks of the sea, &c. ; which right was saved in subsequent acts of parlia ment, and still remains to his successors. And in 1675, the king further enlarged the jurisdictions, tenures, and courts of this manor, with a grant of royalties (royal mines excepted), power to empark three hundred acres, with free warren, privilege of holding two fairs, one on the 10th of April and the other on the 16th of October, with customs, &c. These fairs have, however, been long discontinued.

We have thus briefly traced the origin, and succession of proprietors of this castle and manor, as immediately connected with the subject of our prefixed illustration; but our limits will not allow us to touch on the general history of the locality on the present occasion.

Of the original castle erected here in the twelfth century, a square tower, connected with additions of the sixteenth and subsequent centuries, was preserved as a residence for the proprietors of the manor till the year 1835, when the present noble structure was commenced from the designs and under the superintendence of the late William Morrison, Esq., the most eminent and accomplished architect whom Ireland has possessed within the present century. With the good feeling as well as refined taste for which this admirable artist was so distinguished, his first desire in the re-edification of this castle was to preserve as far as possible the original buildings; and while he increased their extent in the necessary additions to them, to preserve and restore them as much as possible to what might be supposed to have been their original state. But it was found impracticable to do so. The foundations were found to have sunk, and a nearly total re-erection was therefore necessary; yet, in the new edifice, attending to the historical associations connected with a spot so interesting, he so designed it as to exhibit with historical accuracy what might be supposed to have been the forms and features of the ancient buildings, and thus make it a consistent commentary on and illustration of the past history of its locality.

With these remarks, which were necessary to insure a just appreciation of the intention of the architect in the diversified character which he has given to this architectural composition, we may describe it generally as a structure in its character partly military, partly domestic, and to a certain extent ecclesiastical. Its grand feature is a tower in the Norman style of the twelfth century, which ascends to the height of seventy feet, or with a smaller tower which is placed behind it, eighty feet: it has turrets at its angles, and its windows as well as its interior are enriched with decorations in harmony with its architectural style. Connected with this tower, and placed on its west side, is the principal portion of the domestic buildings, which present the purest specimen, perhaps, of Tudor architecture to be found in Ireland. The entrance to this range is placed beneath a small but lofty tower, beneath which a vestibule leads into a spacious and lofty hall, fiftyone feet by twenty, which presents much the appearance of a Gothic church, the walls being panelled, and painted to imitate dark oak. This hall is floored with Irish oak polished, and its roof is supported by principals springing from richly ornamented corbels, or pendants its beauty being much increased by gilded bosses with which it is studded, and which, sparkling among the dark tracery, have a singularly rich effect. The cornice is also richly ornamented, and presents at intervals similar gilded bosses. But the imposing feature of this great chamber is a magnificent staircase of oak, placed at its eastern end, which leads, by two return flights, to a gallery crossing the hall, and communicating with the principal bedchambers, and which would serve for an orchestra on occasions

CUTTING OLD FRIENDS.

of festivity. At the other end of the hall are doors leading into the drawing-room, dancing-room, and library; and in the centre of this end is placed a beautiful chimney-piece of black ONE of the most difficult things a person has to do, who is marble, surrounded by a canopy of carved oak, the enrich-getting ahead of the friends of his earlier and less prosperous ments of which are in that peculiar style which characterises years in the race of fortune, is to rid himself of these friends the ornaments of Tudor architecture, containing the single -to get quit of persons whose want of success in the world and double rose, stars, and other badges of that period. The renders them no longer fit associates. The thing is not hall is lighted by five stained glass windows of an ecclesi- easily done, for you have to maintain appearances. You have astical character, and level with the gallery; and on these to repel them gradually and gently, and in such a manner as windows are blazoned the arms of the families with whom the to be able to defy them to lay any particular act of rudeness, Vernons have intermarried, comprising some of the highest of any positive act of repulsion, to your charge. To manage the the English and Irish nobility. Of the external architecture thing adroitly, therefore, requires some genius and a good of this portion of the building some correct notion may be deal of tact. formed from our illustration, which exhibits the style of the gables and oriel or bay windows which are placed both on its southern and western sides; and we may justly apply to the whole of this range the description given by Chaucer in his imaginary palace of “pleasaunt regarde :"

"The chamberis and parlers of a sorte,

With bay windows goodlie as may be thought,
The galleries right wele y wrought,

The difficulty of accomplishing this great manœuvre in a prosperous career, is much increased by the circumstance that as you advance your ancient cronies throng the thicker and closer around you. They in fact cling and cluster about you like so many bees, and with impertinent looks of glee seek to express their satisfaction with your prosperity.

Now, it is a most desirable thing to get quit of these gentry-to have them brushed off. But it would be rude to do this with the fly-flap and the strong hand. You must get rid As for dauncinge and otherwise disporte." of them by more tact and management. And after you have Branching from the northern and eastern sides of the great got rid of them, that is, driven them from personal contact as tower, extensive ranges of building contain the servants' it were, you have to continue to keep them at a proper disapartments, and an extensive suite of inferior bed-rooms, and tance. No easy matter this, for somehow or other the obtuse the tower itself contains a study, and above it a nursery, over creatures, your poor former acquaintance, will not see, what which, again, a leaded platform with parapets commands most you see very distinctly, that you are now quite a superior sort extensive and diversified prospects of the surrounding country. of person to them, and that they are no longer fit to be ranked The preceding description will, we fear, convey but an im- amongst your friends. This the perverse, dull-witted fellows perfect idea of the plan of this interesting structure, nor will will not see. And, more provoking still, no degree of adour illustration, which only gives a representation of its south-vancement in the world on your part, no acquisition of wealth, ern front, give more than a general idea of the architectural will induce one of them, whatever you yourself may think to character of a building, the great merit of which, next to the the contrary, to contemplate you with a whit more respect beauty and chronological accuracy of its details, consists in than they did when you were one of themselves. They insist on the number of picturesque points of view which it affords, considering you merely as having been more fortunate than from the irregularity of its plan and the variety of its outlines. themselves—not a bit better or a bit cleverer. We shall only add a few words in respect to its locality. The Castle of Clontarf is situated in a district rich in pastoral beauty, and at the head or northern extremity of the village of the same name, which consists of a single but wide street composed of houses of a respectable class, and extending from it in a right line to the sea. It is surrounded by forest trees of great age and grandeur, through which by vistas are obtained views of the bay and the mountain scenery of the southern shore.

Upon the whole, we may truly say of this structure that its beauty is no less striking than its moderate size and pretension are in happy proportion to the rank and means of its owner; nor is it a lesser merit, that unlike too many of the lordly residences in Ireland-the close propinquity of its situation to the village of which he is lord, is characteristically expressive of the confidence and kindly familiarity which should ever exist between the proprietor and the community holding under him. Nor is it again a lesser merit, that unlike most of the mansion-houses to which we have alluded—it is not enclosed by churlish and prison-like walls of stone, excluding it from the public eye, and indicating but too truly the cold and heartless selfishness of their owners, which would not allow to the many even the passing enjoyment of a glimpse of the grandeur and beauty which they claim as their own.

P.

A WOODEN GLASS GOBLET.-The first night of the "Stratford Jubilee" in Dublin, Robert Mahon had to sing the song of the" Mulberry Tree," the music composed by C. Dibdin senior, the words of which begin with

“Behold, this fair goblet was carved from the tree Which, oh! my sweet Shakspeare, was planted by thee." He walked on, and began the song, holding out in his hand a fine cut-glass rummer. The other performers, who were also on, looked at him and his fair glass goblet “carved from a tree" with wonder. The audience took the absurdity, and much mirth and loud hissing followed. The play over, Mahon had the folly to insist upon it he was right: ""Tis true," he said, "the property-man did stand at the wing with a wooden cup in his hand, which he wanted to thrust into mine; but could I appear before the audience with such a rascally vulgar wooden mether?-no; I insisted he should that instant go and fetch me an elegant glass rummer, and here it is!"-O'Keefe's Recollections,

Let us remark here, that the successful in the world are there is no such a thing as luck; while the unsuccessful, again, stout deniers of the doctrine of chances. They maintain that are firm believers in the doctrine, and insist on it that not only is there such a thing as luck, but that luck is every thing. The successful man's vanity prompts him to attribute his prosperity solely to his talents and merit the unsuccessful man's self-love to deny that the want of these qualities has been his hindrance. Hence the conflicting opinions of the two on this curious subject. Then, where lies the truth? We suspect between.

From a good deal of experience in the science of "cutting" under the circumstances alluded to in this paper-we shall not say whether as cutters or cuttees we have flattered ourselves that we could throw out a few hints that might be found useful to gentlemen who are getting on in the world, and who are desirous of ridding themselves of their earlier and poorer friends. Under this supposition we offer the few following remarks :

For some time after you have started on the prosperous career on which you have luckily fallen, continue to smile and bow towards your old friends as formerly; and when you possibly can), shake hands with them as cordially as ever. meet them accidentally (let this be, however, as seldom as you You may even venture to remark, accompanying such remark with an expression of regret, that they are prodigious strangers now. But this is not quite safe ground, and we by no this way, your old friends will never suspect that there is almeans advise its general adoption. Conducting yourself in ready a change working at your heart-a secret operation as yet known only to yourself.

By and bye, throw the least, the very least thing of distance into your greeting: let your smile be apparently as cordial as formerly, but let there now be a slight expression of the slightest degree possible of coolness, of an indefinable something or other in your general manner of a repulsive character: take care, however, that it be indefinable that it be of a description that cannot be named.

This new feature in your bearing will probably startle the more shrewd and observant of your former friends: but never mind that-it is precisely the impression you desire to make. It is even possible that some of them may express by their manner towards you a feeling of irritation at your new mode of treating them. Meet it by an expression of surprise at their conduct, and by increased coolness. There is now good

but the

ground for a quarrel-not open hostility, of course, warfare of distant looks and haughty salutations. Improve it to the utmost, and wonder what the fellows mean.

Observe that the whole of this nice process of dissolving former associations is carried on without one angry or offensive word being said on either side-without the slightest approach to an overt act of hostility; you, particularly, being as bland as ever. The whole is effected by look and manner alone. To the gentleman who is rising in the world there are few things more offensive than the familiarity of old acquaintanceship when presented in the shape of notes and letters. Your old friends, still obstinately overlooking your advancement in the world, will in all probability continue to write to you when they have occasion to do so, in the free-and-easy way of former days. They will even sometimes so far forget themselves and you as to address you in a jocular strain. This must be instantly put down. Do it by brief and grave replies; take no notice of their jokes, and never attempt an approach to one in return. This in time will cure them: if not, you must have recourse to stronger measures. You must either not answer at all, or administer some decided dampers.

Should any of your former friends seek your patronage-a very probable case take an early opportunity, while doing him some trifling service, of letting him feel sensibly your relative positions, all the while, however, exhibiting towards him the most friendly dispositions. But let him ever and anon feel the bit gently-let him feel that he has got somebody on his back. Begin as soon as possible to lecture him in a gentle way-all for his own good of course. Your character of patron gives you a right to do this; and under this guise you can say the most cutting things to him without affording him the slightest ground for complaint. Under this guise you can address the most insulting language to him, and defy him to take it amiss. If he should, however, you can without any difficulty prove him to be one of the most ungrateful monsters that ever lived. You were doing all you could for him, and when you ventured to advise him having nothing but his own good at heart-he chose to take offence at you, and to resent the friendly advice you gave him. Such an ungrateful dog! As few men can stand such treatment as that above alluded to long, we can venture to promise you that by a steady course of proceeding in the way we have pointed out, you will soon clear your hands of your old friends. C.

THE DIVORCED,*

A TRANSLATION FROM THE MOLDAVIAN.

"Ah! what a fatal gift from Heaven is a too sensitive heart!"-ROUSSEAU.

What is that yonder shimmering so?

Can it be swans? Can it be snow?

If it were swans they would move, I trow,
If it were snow it had melted ere now.
No: it is Ibrahim Aga's tent-

There lies the warrior, wounded and spent.
Mother and sisters tend him there
Night and morn with busiest care;
His wife alone through shame or grief-
Stays away from the suffering Chief.
Wherefore, as soon as his illness was gone,
Wrote he thus to the Sensitive One-
"Go thy way from my house and hearth,
And bide with the mother that gave thee birth."
Sad was Ayoob at the sudden word!
It pierced her tender heart like a sword.
Hark! the sound of a charger's tramp-
Ibrahim, then, is come from the camp!
So she fancies, and, in her despair,
Thinks she will scale the turret-stair,
And dash herself down from the castle-wall,
When, lo! her two little daughters call-
"It isn't our father, mother dear!
This is our uncle, Djaffar-al-Meer."
Turning around, the weeping mother
Flings her arms about her brother_

"Oh, brother! that this black day should arrive!
Oh, how can I leave these helpless five?"

But, cold and wordless, as one who has yet
To study Compassion, or feel Remorse,
The brother draws forth, all shiningly set
In silk and gold, the Brief of Divorce,

• The incidents of this narrative are founded on fact.

And sternly he states the Law's command-
That again she return to her kindred and land,
Free once more to dispose of her hand.
The mother's heart felt breaking, for now
All hope was buried ;-she could not speak-
She kissed her two little boys on the brow,
And her two little girls she kissed on the cheek,
While the babe in the cradle-unconscious child!__
Held out its diminutive arms, and smiled!

The iron Djaffar would wait no more

His barb was pawing the earth at the door :

66

Up, woman!" he cried and they galloped away,

And reached their home by the close of day.

But there not long she pined alone,
For, barely a week was over and gone
When many a suitor came to sue;
Kapitans, Beys, and Agas too,
Came to see her and staid to woo.
And Djaffar saw that the richest of all
Was the noble Khadi of Nourjahaul.
Afresh for sorrow were hourly shed
The bitter tears of the mourner then :
"I pray thee, brother," she sadly said,
"Give me not in marriage agen!

66

My broken heart would cease to beat Should I and the children chance to meet." But Djaffar was ever the Man of SteelThe morrow, he vowed, should see her a wife! Then, hear me, brother !-thy sister's life Hangs upon this her last appeal! Write to the Khadi thus, I entreat'Health from Ayoob to her lordly lover! 'Send, she prays thee, a veil to cover 'Her sorrowful figure from head to feet,

[ocr errors]

Lest, while passing the Aga's door,

'Her children greet her as heretofore.""

The letter was sent, and the veil came home;

And by noon on the morrow the bride was arrayed; And a gorgeous train and cavalcade

Set out for the Khadi's palace-dome.

They journeyed till sunset purpled the sky,
And now, alas! her trial is nigh-

Her trial is nigh, her bosom is swelling;
They come within sight of Ibrahim's dwelling-
They near the gates-ah, well-a-day!

Her children cannot mistake their mother_
"Mamma! Mamma! ah, don't go away!"
They cry, and their voices drown one another.
That mother groaned in her wretchedness!
"Live long !" she said, "my Lord and Master!
Mayest thou ever defy Disaster!

May thy shadow never be less!
Bid, I implore thee, the cavalcade wait

A moment in front of the Aga's gate,
While I go into the house, and leave

Some gifts with my little ones, lest they grieve."
Silently then, like a ghost from the tombs,
She enters once more the remembered rooms,
Gives to her sons little gold-laced boots,
Gives to her daughters little kapoots,*

And leaves with the babe in the cradle-bed

Some toys and a basket of sugar-bread.

Now, the desolate father was standing apart,
And he marked that she neither spake nor sighed,

And Agony wrung his manly heart

"Come, come to me, hither, my children!" he cried,
For I see that your mother's bosom is grown
Colder and harder than marble stone.'

But, as soon as Ayoob heard Ibrahim speak,
And saw her children turning away,

She fell on the floor without a shriek,
And without a stir on the floor she lay ;
And the funeral-wailers of Islambol

Were chanting ere night the hymn for her soul.t

* Cloaks.

M.

The popular notion that the Mohammedans deny immortality to the souls of women is altogether a mistake, as will be apparent to any one who takes the trouble of looking through the Koran.

[ocr errors]

OROHOO, THE FAIRY MAN,

A REMINISCENCE OF CONNAUGHT.

WERE we to believe the chronicles of our grandmothers, Ireland at one period was held in fee-simple by witches, warlocks, white ladies, fairies, and leprahauns; the earth, the air, and the sky, were peopled by them; every crumbling and desolate cabin on the sterile moor or common was tenanted by a witch; while the margins of our beautiful loughs, the bosoms of our silent and sequestered glens, the recesses of our romantic mountain valleys, the echoing walls of every mouldering edifice, and the mystic circle of each rude hill-forth, were the chosen habitations of unearthly beings.

Nor was this belief held by the uneducated alone; many who moved in respectable situations in society were infected by it; and otherwise sensible and well-informed people on this head were deaf to the voice of reason and the dictates of common sense, and would as soon doubt the truth of Holy Writ as the existence of supernatural agency; and so interwoven was the superstition in the social system, that no event could happen poor mortality from the cradle to the grave, in which the good people were not implicated for good or evil. Did the head or a member of a leading family die, the wail of the banshee was sure to be heard in the twilight. Was a favourite child smitten with disease, the beautiful, the beloved one was believed to be changed for a squalling, ravenous, and decrepid starveling. Did your cattle pine, or was your dairy not productive, your cows were either elf-shot or bewitched. the wife of your bosom snatched away in her bloom, in the most interesting though dangerous moment of her existence, the fairies were whispered to be the authors of your misfortune to have spirited her off, and to have left in her stead a wooden substitute.

Was

Well do I remember the thrill of fear, mingled with a degree of pleasurable awe, with which I listened some forty years since to the narratives of a venerable aunt, who was lingering out the evening of her existence at my father's fireside her only occupation being, rocking the cradle and keeping the youngsters from mottling their shins. She was an experienced dame, and withal pious, but would as soon doubt her own identity as that of witches and fairies, and her memory was well stored with instances of their interference. These I then believed most implicitly, particularly as in many of them "the family" was concerned. She could relate how her grandfather one morning detected a hare in the act of milking one of his cows, which he fired at and wounded, and on tracking the blood, discovered it to flow from the thigh of an old crone who inhabited a neighbouring hovel. She also could tell how an elder brother had surprised a leprahaun in the act of making shoes for the gentle people--could describe his dress minutely, and how he had escaped captivity by making a feint with his awl at my uncle's eye, and causing him to wink when in the very act of seizing him, and thereby marred his fortune. She also knew a child which was taken from its mother's arms at night, but luckily was missed before he could be conveyed through the key-hole, and on the outcry of the bereaved parent, was dropped "with a whack" on the floor uninjured. It never occurred to her that probably the child had rolled out of the bed accidentally. There was another tale often related by her, which it would be worse than heresy to doubt, as she knew the parties intimately.

may the answer was responded, "I'm making a wife for Jack McKinstrey." "Faith," said Jack, "you'll make no wife for me, my man-I'll do very well with the one I have ;" and giving his good beast the spur, regardless of the neck, bones, or outcry of his freight, he never drew rein until he had his better half the crisis was over, and thus baulked the fairies. clasped in his arms, where he held her in a death's-grip until

Thus was the whole system of society pervaded by the idea of supernatural influence; and the consequence was an undefinable dread and fear, hanging like the sword of Damocles over the heads of all, and embittering existence. 'Tis true the evil was only imaginary, but not on that account the less hurtful; for, being a mental malady, it was the more difficult to be counteracted or eradicated, and often led to real anxiety and distress, as in the case of M'Kinstrey, whose ideas being full of witchcraft and fairy freaks, never reflected that the noise and voices he had heard might be a practical joke of some of his neighbours, and in consequence suffered all the suspense and trouble incident to real danger.

But the diffusion of useful knowledge and the dissemination of sound education among all classes, has latterly effected a mighty change in the intellectual powers of the people. Such reveries as those referred to, though sometimes used to "adorn a tale," are now unheeded; and there are few indeed who would harbour for a moment in sincerity the absurd idea of evil agency. There may be, 'tis true, some exceptions-a few old women may be still haunted by the sprites of other days, and in some remote districts a belief in witchcraft cerand kept alive by the practices of knaves, who profess to avert tainly prevails, ingrafted by early prejudices, and fostered the effects by counter-charms, and live, like many others, on the credulity of the public; but, generally speaking, the thing is defunct-gone to the moles and the bats.

But there is an exception. In several districts in Ireland, in Connaught especially, an idea is very prevalent that it is in the power of evil-disposed persons to deprive their neighbours of their milk or butter. This is said to be done in various ways, the most usual being the use of a corpse hand, which is kept shrivelled and dried to stir the milk and gather the butter. Another plan is to follow the cows on a May morning, and gather the soil which drops from between their cloots. Another, by collecting the froth which forms on a stream running through their pasture, and milking your own cow on it. Indeed, the means used are represented to be so simple, that the very absurdity of the matter is its own refutation.

Yet it is believed in, and that firmly; and in order to prove that such is the case, and also expose the trickery and legerdemain by which some knaves succeed in throwing dust in the eyes of the natives, I will relate an occurrence in which I was concerned; and to open the matter fully in all its ramifications, windings, and train of circumstantials, I trust I will be pardoned if I enter into a rather minute detail, the rather as I confess I was for a short time myself almost inclined to cre dit its existence-in short, believed myself the dupe of a fairy man.

66

Some time since I resided in the neighbourhood of the plains of Boyle,” a celebrated pasture country, and was the possessor of a cow whose milk and butter were plentiful in quantity and excellent in quality, and materially contributed to the comforts of my family. She was a beautiful and a gentle creature; and I flattered myself that in her I possessed the foundress of a numerous herd, and the germ of a profitable and extensive dairy.

As before observed, the idea was very prevalent there that it was in the power of evil-disposed persons to deprive you of your milk and butter, and I heard many complaints of the kind; the general voice fastened the imputation on a woman who lived in the vicinity, who was locally termed "the Hawk," and certainly the fire of her eye and the sharpness of her beak justified the appellation: she was a comely middle-aged person, in rather easy circumstances, her husband being a small farmer; but he lay under the suspicion of being concerned in a murder some time before. She was a reputed witch, and the entire family were disliked and avoided.

An honest man named John M'Kinstrey, who resided near Maheraveely, in the county Monaghan, was once compelled to leave his warm bed in "the witching time of night," on a certain pressing occasion, and ride post-haste for a worthy One morning in the month of January, I was informed that dame whose assistance was indispensable. While returning a woman had come into my kitchen, who occupied herself in with the "howdy" safely stowed on an ample pillion behind, watching the motions of the family, without stating her busihe heard the strokes of an axe reverberating through a neigh-ness. On going down, I found her well dressed and well bouring wood, and voices in conversation. Curiosity prompted looking, but with a very sinister cast of countenance. On him to draw up and listen, when he distinctly heard the ques- asking if she wanted me, she said she had heard I was in want tion asked, “What are you doing to-night?" and to his dis- ❘ of some geese, and that she had a few to dispose of. "How

« AnteriorContinuar »