Read Ebook: The Irish Penny Journal Vol. 1 No. 49 June 5 1841 by Various

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THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL.

Our metropolitan readers, at least, and many others besides, are aware of the magnificent but not easily to be realised project, recently propounded, of erecting a town on the east side of Malpas's or Killiney Hill--a situation certainly of unrivalled beauty and grandeur. Plans, most satisfactory, and views prospective as well as perspective of this as yet non-existent Brighton or Clifton, have been laid before the public, with a view to obtain the necessary ways and means to give it a more substantial reality; but alas! for the uncertainty of human wishes! Queenstown, despite the popularity of our sovereign, is not likely, for some time at least, to present a rivalry, in any thing but its romantic and commanding site, to the busy, bustling, and not very symmetrically built town which has been erected in honour of Her august eldest uncle. The good people of Kingstown may therefore rejoice; their glory will not for some time at least be eclipsed; and the lovers of natural romantic scenery who have not money--they seldom have--to employ in promising speculations, may also rejoice, for the wild and precipitous cliffs of Killiney are likely to retain for some years longer a portion of their romantic beauty; the rocks will not be shaped into well-dressed forms of prim gentility; the purple heather and blossomy furze, "unprofitable gay," may give nature's brilliant colouring to the scenery, and the wild sea-birds may sport around: the time has not arrived when they will be destroyed or banished from their ancient haunt by the encroachment of man.

But however this may be, the first stone of the new town has been laid; nay, the first building--no less a building than "Victoria Castle"--has been actually erected; and, as a memorial of one of the gigantic projects of this speculating nineteenth century of ours, we have felt it incumbent on us to give its fair proportions a place in our immortal and universally read miscellany, in order to hand down its pristine form to posterity in ages when it shall have been shaped by time into a genuine antique ruin.

Nothing in nature can indeed surpass the beauty, variety, and extent of the prospects which may be enjoyed from this spot or its immediate vicinity, and we might fill a whole number of our Journal in describing their principal features. To most of our readers, however, they must be already familiar, and to those who have not had the pleasure of enjoying a sight of them, it will convey a sufficient general idea of what they must be, to acquaint them that Killiney Hill from the same point commands, towards the west, views of the far-famed Bay of Dublin, the city, and the richly-cultivated and villa-studded plains by which it is surrounded, towards the north, the bold, rugged promontory of Howth, with the islands of Dalkey, Ireland's eye, Lambay, and the peaked mountain-ranges of Down and Lowth in the extreme distance; and lastly, towards the east and south, the sea, and the lovely Bay of Killiney, with its shining yellow strand, curved into the form of a spacious and magnificent amphitheatre, from which, as in seats above each other, ascend the richly-wooded hills, backed by the mountains of Dublin and Wicklow, with all their exquisite variety of forms and fitful changes of colour. In short, it may truly be said of this delightful situation, that though other localities may possess some individual character of scenery of greater beauty or grandeur, there are few if any in the British empire that could fairly be compared with it for its variety and general interest.

Of the great interest of Killiney to the naturalist, and the geologist more particularly, we have already endeavoured to give our readers some notion in a paper, in a recent number, from the pen of our able and accomplished friend Dr Schouler; and Killiney is scarcely less interesting to the antiquary than to the man of science. Though till a recent period its now cultivated and thickly inhabited hills and shores presented the virgin appearance of a country nearly in the state which nature left it, the numerous monuments of antiquity scattered about them clearly evinced that man had been a wanderer if not an inhabitant here in the most remote times. Numerous kistvaens containing human skeletons have been found between the road and the sea, undoubtedly of pagan times; and we have ourselves seen in our young days six very large urns of baked clay, containing burned bones, which were discovered in sinking the foundations for a cottage, near the road between the Killiney and Rochestown hills. We have also seen several sepulchral stone circles, now no longer remaining; and there is yet to be seen of the same period, a fine cromleac, situated near Shanganagh, and that most remarkable and interesting pagan temple, near the Martello tower, with its judgment chair, and the figures of the sun and moon sculptured on one of the stones within its enclosure. Nor is Killiney without its monument of Christian piety of as early date as any to be found in Ireland. In the beautiful ivied ruin of its parish church, the antiquary may enjoy a sight of one of the most characteristic examples of the temples erected by the Irish immediately after their conversion to Christianity, and make himself intimate with a style of architecture not now to be found in other portions of the British empire.

THE CASTLE OF AUGHENTAIN, OR A LEGEND OF THE BROWN GOAT,

A TALE OF TOM GRASSIEY, THE SHANAHUS.

BY WILLIAM CARLETON.

When Tom had expressed an intention of relating an old story, the hum of general conversation gradually subsided into silence, and every face assumed an expression of curiosity and interest, with the exception of Jemsy Baccagh, who was rather deaf, and blind George M'Givor, so called because he wanted an eye; both of whom, in high and piercing tones, carried on an angry discussion touching a small law-suit that had gone against Jemsy in the Court Leet, of which George was a kind of rustic attorney. An outburst of impatient rebuke was immediately poured upon them from fifty voices. "Whisht with yez, ye pair of devils' limbs, an' Tom goin' to tell us a story. Jemsy, your sowl's as crooked as your lame leg, you sinner; an' as for blind George, if roguery would save a man, he'd escape the devil yet. Tarenation to yez, an' be quiet till we hear the story!"

"Ay," said Tom, "Scripthur says that when the blind leads the blind, both will fall into the ditch; but God help the lame that have blind George to lead them; we might aisily guess where he'd guide them to, especially such a poor innocent as Jemsy there." This banter, as it was not intended to give offence, so was it received by the parties to whom it was addressed with laughter and good humour.

"Silence, boys," said Tom; "I'll jist take a draw of the pipe till I put my mind in a proper state of transmigration for what I'm goin' to narrate."

He then smoked on for a few minutes, his eyes complacently but meditatively closed, and his whole face composed into the philosophic spirit of a man who knew and felt his own superiority, as well as what was expected from him. When he had sufficiently arranged the materials in his mind, he took the pipe out of his mouth, rubbed the shank-end of it against the cuff of his coat, then handed it to his next neighbour, and having given a short preparatory cough, thus commenced his legend:--

Balgruntie sang a psalm of thanksgivin' for bein' elected by his commander to sich a holy office, set out on his march, an' the next night he an' his choir slep in the mill of Aughentain, as I said. Now, Balgruntie had in this same congregation of his a long-legged Scotchman named Sandy Saveall, which name he got by way of etymology, for his charity; for it appears by the historical elucidations that Sandy was perpetually rantinizin' about sistherly affection an' brotherly love: an' what showed more taciturnity than any thing else was, that while this same Sandy had the persuasion to make every one believe that he thought of nothing else, he shot more people than any ten men in the squadron. He was indeed what they call a dead shot, for no one ever knew him to miss any thing he fired at. He had a musket that could throw point blank an English mile, an' if he only saw a man's nose at that distance, he used to say that with aid from above he could blow it for him with a leaden handkerchy, meaning that he could blow it off his face with a musket bullet; and so by all associations he could, for indeed the faits he performed were very insinivating an' problematical.

Now, it so happened that at this period there lived in the castle a fine wealthy ould royalist, named Graham or Grimes, as they are often denominated, who had but one child, a daughter, whose beauty an' perfections were mellifluous far an' near over the country, an' who had her health drunk, as the toast of Ireland, by the Lord Lieutenant in the Castle of Dublin, undher the sympathetic appellation of 'the Rose of Aughentain.' It was her son that afterwards ran through the estate, and was forced to part wid the castle; an' it's to him the proverb colludes, which mentions 'ould John Grame, that swallowed the castle of Aughentain.'

Howsomever, that bears no prodigality to the story I'm narratin'. So what would you have of it, but Balgruntie, who had heard of the father's wealth and the daughter's beauty, took a holy hankerin' afther both; an' havin' as usual said his prayers an' sung a psalm, he determined for to clap his thumb upon the father's money, thinkin' that the daughter would be the more aisily superinduced to folly it. In other words, he made up his mind to sack the castle, carry off the daughter and marry her righteously, rather, he said, through a sincere wish to bring her into a state of grace, by a union with a God-fearin' man, whose walk he trusted was Zionward, than from any cardinal detachment for her wealth or beauty. He accordingly sent up a file of the most pious men he had, picked fellows, with good psalm-singin' voices and strong noses, to request that John Graham would give them possession of the castle for a time, an' afterwards join them at prayers, as a proof that he was no royalist, but a friend to Crummle an' the Commonwealth. Now, you see, the best of it was, that the very man they demanded this from was commonly denominated by the people as 'Gunpowdher Jack,' in consequence of the great signification of his courage; an', besides, he was known to be a member of the Hell-fire Club, that no person could join that hadn't fought three duels, and killed at least one man; and in ordher to show that they regarded neither God nor hell, they were obligated to dip one hand in blood an' the other in fire, before they could be made members of the club. It's aisy to see, then, that Graham was not likely to quail before a handful of the very men he hated wid all the vociferation in his power, an' he accordingly put his head out of the windy, an' axed them their tergiversation for bein' there.

'Begone about your business,' he said; 'I owe you no regard. What brings you before the castle of a man who despises you? Don't think to determinate me, you cauting rascals, for you can't. My castle's well provided wid men, an' ammunition, an' food; an' if you don't be off, I'll make you sing a different tune from a psalm one.' Begad he did, plump to them, out of the windy.

When Crummle's men returned to Balgruntie in the mill, they related what had tuck place, an' he said that afther prayers he'd send a second message in writin', an' if it wasn't attended to, they'd put their trust in God an' storm the castle. The squadron he commanded was not a numerous one; an' as they had no artillery, an' were surrounded by enemies, the takin' of the castle, which was a strong one, might cost them some snufflication. At all events, Balgruntie was bent on makin' the attempt, especially afther he heard that the castle was well vittled, an' indeed he was meritoriously joined by his men, who piously licked their lips on hearin' of such glad tidings. Graham was a hot-headed man, without much ambidexterity or deliberation, otherwise he might have known that the bare mintion of the beef an' mutton in his castle was only fit to make such a hungry pack desperate. But be that as it may, in a short time Balgruntie wrote him a letter, demandin' of him, in the name of Nolly Rednose an' the Commonwealth, to surrendher the castle, or if not, that, ould as he was, he would make him as soople as a two-year-ould. Graham, afther readin' it, threw the letther back to the messengers wid a certain recommendation to Balgruntie regardin' it; but whether the same recommendation was followed up an' acted on so soon as he wished, historical retaliations do not inform.

On their return the military narrated to their commander the reception they resaved a second time from Graham, an' he then resolved to lay regular siege to the castle; but as he knew he could not readily take it by violence, he determined, as they say, to starve the garrison leisurely an' by degrees. But, first an' foremost, a thought struck him, an' he immediently called Sandy Saveall behind the mill-hopper, which he had now turned into a pulpit for the purpose of expoundin' the word, an' givin' exhortations to his men.

'Sandy,' said he, 'are you in a state of justification to-day?'

'Towards noon,' replied Sandy, 'I had some strong wristlings with the enemy; but I am able, undher praise, to say that I defated him in three attacks, and I consequently feel my righteousness much recruited. I had some wholesome communings with the miller's daughter, a comely lass, who may yet be recovered from the world, an' led out of the darkness of Aigyp, by a word in saison.'

'Well, Sandy,' replied the other, 'I lave her to your own instructions; there is another poor benighted maiden, who is also comely, up in the castle of that godless sinner, who belongeth to the Perdition Club; an', indeed, Sandy, until he is somehow removed, I think there is little hope of plucking her like a brand out of the burning.'

He serenaded Sandy in the face as he spoke, an' then cast an extemporary glance at the musket, which was as much as to say 'can you translate an insinivation?' Sandy concocted a smilin' reply; an' takin' up the gun, rubbed the barrel, an' pattin' it as a sportsman would pat the neck of his horse or dog, wid reverence for comparin' the villain to either one or the other.

'True,' said Sandy, 'but you lave the miller's daughter to me?'

'I said so.'

'Well, if his removal will give you any consolidation in the matther, you may say no more.'

'I could not, Sandy, justify it to myself to take him away by open violence, for you know that I bear a conscience if any thing too tendher and dissolute. Also I wish, Sandy, to presarve an ondeniable reputation for humanity; an', besides, the daughter might become as reprobate as the father if she suspected me to be personally concarned in it. I have heard a good deal about him, an' am sensibly informed that he has been shot at twice before, by the sons, it is thought, of an enemy that he himself killed rather significantly in a duel.'

'Very well,' replied Sandy; 'I would myself feel scruples; but as both our consciences is touched in the business, I think I am justified. Indeed, captain, it is very likely afther all that we are but the mere instruments in it, an' that it is through us that this ould unrighteous sinner is to be removed by a more transplendant judgment.'

Begad, neighbours, when a rascal is bent on wickedness, it is aisy to find cogitations enough to back him in his villany. And so was it with Sandy Saveall and Balgruntie.

That evenin' ould Graham was shot through the head standin' in the windy of his own castle, an' to extenuate the suspicion of sich an act from Crummle's men, Balgruntie himself went up the next day, beggin' very politely to have a friendly explanation with Squire Graham, sayin' that he had harsh ordhers, but that if the castle was peaceably delivered to him, he would, for the sake of the young lady, see that no injury should be offered either to her or her father.

The young lady, however, had the high drop in her, and becoorse the only answer he got was a flag of defiance. This nettled the villain, an' he found there was nothin' else for it but to plant a strong guard about the castle to keep all that was in, in--and all that was out, out.

In the mean time, the very appearance of the Crumwellians in the neighbourhood struck such terror into the people, that the country, which was then only very thinly inhabited, became quite desarted, an' for miles about the face of a human bein' could not be seen, barrin' their own, sich as they were. Crummle's track was always a bloody one, an' the people knew that they were wise in puttin' the hills an' mountain passes between him an' them. The miller an' his daughter bein' encouraged by Sandy, staid principally for the sake of Miss Graham; but except them, there was not a man or woman in the barony to bid good-morrow to or say Salvey Dominey. On the beginnin' of the third day, Balgruntie, who knew his officialities extremely well, an' had sent down a messenger to Dungannon to see whether matters were so bad as they had been reported, was delighted to hear that O'Neill had disappeared from the neighbourhood. He immediately informed Crummle of this, and tould him that he had laid siege to one of the leadin' passes of the north, an' that, by gettin' possession of the two castles of Aughentain and Augher, he could keep O'Neill in check, and command that part of the country. Nolly approved of this, an' ordhered him to proceed, but was sorry that he could send him no assistance at present; 'however,' said he, 'with a good cause, sharp swords, an' aid from above, there is no fear of us.'

Things were now in a very connubial state entirely. Balgruntie heard that relief was comin' to the castle, an' what to do he did not know; there was little time to be lost, however, an' something must be done. He praiched flowery discourses twice a-day from the mill-hopper, an' sang psalms for grace to be directed in his righteous intentions; but as yet he derived no particular predilection from either. Sandy appeared to have got a more bountiful modelum of grace than his captain, for he succeeded at last in bringin' the miller's daughter to sit undher the word at her father's hopper. Fool Paddy, as they called Maguire, had now become a great favourite wid the sogers, an' as he proved to be quite harmless and inoffensive, they let him run about the place widout opposition. The castle, to be sure, was still guarded, but Miss Graham kept her heart up in consequence of the note, for she hoped every day to get relief from her friends. Balgruntie, now seein' that the miller's daughter was becomin' more serious undher the taichin' of Saveall, formed a plan that he thought might enable him to penethrate the castle, an' bear off the lady an' the money. This was to strive wid very delicate meditation to prevail on the miller's daughter, through the renown that he thought Sandy had over her, to open a correspondency wid Miss Graham; for he knew that if one of the gates was unlocked, and the unsuspectin' girl let in, the whole squadron would soon be in afther her. Now, this plan was the more dangerous to Miss Graham, because the miller's daughter had intended to bring about the very same denouncement for a different purpose. Between her friend an' her enemies it was clear the poor lady had little chance; an' it was Balgruntie's intention, the moment he had sequestrated her and the money, to make his escape, an' lave the castle to whosomever might choose to take it. Things, however, were ordhered to take a different bereavement: the Hog of Cupar was to be trapped in the hydrostatics of his own hypocrisy, an' Saveall to be overmatched in his own premises. Well, the plot was mentioned to Sandy, who was promised a good sketch of the prog; an' as it was jist the very thing he dreamt about night an' day, he snapped at it as a hungry dog would at a sheep's trotter. That night the miller's daughter--whose name I may as well say was Nannie Duffy, the purtiest girl an' the sweetest singer that ever was in the counthry--was to go to the castle an' tell Miss Graham that the sogers wor all gone, Crummle killed, an' his whole army massacrayed to atoms. This was a different plan from poor Nannie's, who now saw clearly what they were at. But never heed a woman for bein' witty when hard pushed.

'Hut,' said Sandy, 'where's the use of such scruples in a good cause?--when we get the money, we'll fly. It is principally for the sake of waining you an' her from the darkness of idolatry that we do it. Indeed, my conscience would not rest well if I let a soul an' body like yours remain a prey to Sathan, my darlin'.'

'Well,' said she, 'doesn't the captain exhort this evenin'?'

'He does, my beloved, an' with a blessin' will expound a few verses from the Song of Solomon.'

'It's betther then,' said she, 'to sit under the word, an' perhaps some light may be given to us.'

This, however, by no manner of manes relieved poor Nannie from her difficulty, for Saveall, finding himself now first in command, determined not to lose a moment in tolerating his plan upon the castle.

'You see,' said he, 'that a way is opened for us that we didn't expect; an' let us not close our eyes to the light that has been given, lest it might be suddenly taken from us again. In this instance I suspect that fool Paddy has been made the chosen instrument; for it appears upon inquiry that he too has disappeared. However, heaven's will be done! we will have the more to ourselves, my beloved--ehem! It is now dark,' he proceeded, 'so I shall go an' take my usual smoke at the mill window, an' in about a quarther of an hour I'll be ready.'

'But I'm all in a tremor after sich a frightful accident,' replied Nannie: 'an' I want to get a few minutes' quiet before we engage upon our undhertakin.'

He could often have shot either Balgruntie or Saveall in daylight, but not without certain death to himself, as he knew that escape was impossible. Besides, time was not before so pressin' upon them, an' every day relief was expected. Now, however, that relief was so near--for Simpson with a party of royalists an' Maguire's men must be within a couple of hours' journey--it would be too intrinsic entirely to see the castle plundhered, and the lady carried off by such a long-legged skyhill as Saveall. Nannie consequentially, at great risk, took an opportunity of slipping his gun to Suil Gair, who was the best shot of the day in that or any other part of the country; and it was in consequence of this that he was called Suil Gair, or Sharp Eye. But, indeed, all the Maguires were famous shots; an' I'm tould there's one of them now in Dublin that could hit a pigeon's egg or a silver sixpence at the distance of a hundred yards. Suil Gair did not merely raise the sluice when he set the mill a-goin', but he whipped it out altogether an' threw it into the dam, so that the possibility of saving the Hog of Cupar was irretrievable. He made off, however, an' threw himself among the tall ragweeds that grew upon the common, till it got dark, when Saveall, as was his custom, should take his evenin' smoke at the windy. Here he sat for some period, thinkin' over many ruminations, before he lit his cutty pipe, as he called it.

Suil Gair desarved the name he got, for truer did never bullet go to the mark from Saveall's own aim than it did from his. There is now little more to be superadded to my story. Before daybreak the next mornin', Simpson came to the relief of his intended wife; Crummle's party war surprised, taken, an' cut to pieces; an' it so happened that from that day to this the face of a soger belongin' to him was never seen near the mill or castle of Aughentain, with one exception only, and that was this:--You all know that the mill is often heard to go at night when nobody sets her a-goin', an' that the most sevendable scrames of torture come out of the hopper, an' that when any one has the courage to look in, they're sure to see a man dressed like a soger, with a white mealy face, in the act, so to say, of havin' his legs ground off him. Many a guess was made about who the spirit could be, but all to no purpose. There, however, is the truth for yez; the spirit that shrieks in the hopper is Balgruntie's ghost, an' he's to be ground that way till the day of judgment.

Be coorse, Simpson and Miss Graham were married, as war Nannie Duffy an' Suil Gair; an' if they all lived long an' happy, I wish we may all live ten times longer an' happier; an' so we will, but in a betther world than this, plaise God."

"Well, but, Tom," said Gordon, "how does that account for my name, which you said you'd tell me?"

"An' do you mane to tell me," said Gordon, "that my name was never heard of until Oliver Crummle's time?"

"I do. Never in the wide an' subterraneous earth was sich a name known till afther the prognostication I tould you; an' it never would either, only for the goat, sure. I can prove it by the pathepathetics. Denny Mullin, will you give us another draw o' the pipe?"

Tom's authority in these matters was unquestionable, and, besides, there was no one present learned enough to contradict him, with any chance of success, before such an audience. The argument was consequently, without further discussion, decided in his favour, and Gordon was silenced touching the origin and etymology of his own name.

The celebrated Brian Maguire, the first shot of his day, was at this time living in Dublin.

THE HERRING.--SECOND ARTICLE.

THE FISHERY.

Having given in a former number some account of the natural history of this valuable little creature, we now proceed, in accordance with our promise, to give a description of the various modes of taking and curing it; and as the Dutch were the first to see the importance, and devote themselves to the improvement, of the herring fishery, we shall commence with them.

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