The Life Story of an Old Rebel

almost equals Killarney's beauty-but that, perhaps, is a Northman's prejudice-with the noble range of the Mourne mountain

n De Courcy's followers, who can be recognised by their names, and are still to be found, side by side, and intermingling with those of the original Celtic children of the soil in the barony of Lecale. It is astonishing, by the way, how you still find in Ireland, after centuries of successive confiscations, the old names in their old tribal l

uncle, Father Michael O'Loughlin, parish priest of Dromgoolan, County Down, who placed me in charge

eptor than "Priest Mick," as my mother used to call my uncle. I imagine that the term "Priest," which, in the North of Ireland, was formerly so much used as a pre

the "Tribe of Brian" (his father's name) and he made a point of visiting them all, down to the very la

respect. If the two men met in a very narrow "loanan "-what they call a "boreen" in other parts of Ireland-the other man, who was a bit of a wag, would put his ha

century, a considerable clearance of the Catholic population from the best land of this district, for I should say-judging from King James's Army List and other authorities-that the Magennises (who, with the MacCartans, were the chief territorial families of the old race in Down)

the North are the most pure-blooded Celts in Ireland. And even in the case of Lecale, the original Celtic population intermingled with the descendants of the Norman settlers, who, like the older native population have ever remained true to the ol

afterwards became Bishop of Down and Connor, Father O'Laverty says: "The Denvirs are a Norman race,

er's displeasure by criticising adversely (from what I had read in the "Nation") Dr. Denvir's support of what was called the "Bequest Bill." There were some strictures in the "Nation" on the favour shown to this B

le, Owen (or Oiney, as he was commonly called) Bannon, in

Ballymagenaghy. It is eminently typical of the kind of rocky and barren land to which the children of the soil w

der of what I heard the people calling "My lord's mountain." This was part of Lord Annesley's domain, and separated from Carraig and several small farms by a wall, which ran down to a sheet of water at the foot-Castlewellan Lough. I, as a student o

he fishing boats.(They used to sing a mournful lament around the turf fires of Ballymagenaghy of "The loss of the Mourne Fishermen" in a great storm off this coast). Further off you might see an occasional large sailing vessel or steamer, and, further still, in the dim distance, you could just di

d Roden, who held high rank among the Orange ascendancy faction, and, as will be seen later, may be sa

called by any other name. Indeed, some forty years afterwards-when I was organising for the Irish National League-I met a County Down man in Cumberland. He was, as I soon found, from "our own place," as they affectionately call it. He was trying to trace out what family I belonged to. At last he had it-"Oh" he said, "You would be a son of Margaret O'Loughlin?" I hesitated for moment, when Edward McConvey, the local organiser

wo brothers, Bernard and Michael, became priests, and always called and signed themselves "O

t they were not entirely dependent on the land they tilled, as several of the family were employed in weaving in a portion of the house, the looms being their own. I have often admired the beautiful damask table-cloths produ

the beautiful fabrics, for which our northern province is famous,

to help on the land, the father, Oiney, would occasionally go over to England as a travelling packman, and so increase the family store. I

ed them-they never called them beggars-who came to their doors. Indeed, it seemed to me that these had no occasion to ask for help, for more than once I have seen a "poor woman" coming in with her be

generally landed at the Clarence Dock, Liverpool, a wiry, hardy-looking lot, with frieze coats, corduroy breeches, clean white shirts with high collars, and blackthorn sticks. I have seen them filling

work, I joined with great enjoyment in the family group around the turf fire, and listened with rapt attention to songs and stories; my favou

ingly, this is what I gathered as to the origin, present existence, and future state of the "good people," as they called them. In "The Irish Fairy Legends," a number of my "Penny Irish Library," I find I have dealt with

further and fared worse," fell upon our earth, and into the air and water that surround it. These are the Fairies, who have their

how many ages it has been handed down to us. It is one of the fairy stories my mother and grandmother used to tell us as long ago as I can remember. I have a little grandson who, when smaller, used sometimes to insist when put to bed after he had said his "ly

grehan, who, after the day's work, enjoyed going "a cailey." I hope my Gaelic League friends will forgive me if I don't give

om the "Nation" a speech of the Liberator-the title his countrymen gave O'Connell after Catholic emancipation. I was a

about this time in the "Nation" from the pens of Thomas Davis, and the brilliant young men in O'Connell's movement known as the "Young Irelanders "-songs "racy of the

e choir-for there was no organ-at the little mountain chapel at Leitrim, where my uncle, Father Michael, officiated. The happy remembrances of those Sundays of my boyhood are always brought bac

right are the g

eaceful home

nd roads, and

ay mornin

zeal their tr

they knee

r old I

old Ir

, boys,

hese times before she died. My mother was born in 1799, and was the youngest daughter of her family, but her eldest sister, my Aunt Mary, wife of Oiny Bannon, was 12 or 14 y

d muster, to join the United Irish forces previous to the battles of Saintfield and Ballinahinch. At the time of my visit to my mother's birthplace, my grandfather's house was in t

tory as decisive as they had gained at Saintfield, when, by some untoward circumstance, the fortunes of the day turned, and, in the end, the United Men were defeated. Perhaps what my Aunt Mary told me may be some explanation of the turn in the tide of battle. She used to say that when it looke

ed. As a consequence of this you will find townlands and parishes and whole districts, where the soil is poorest, where the people are almost exclusively Catholic, and others where the non-Catholic population are in an overwhelming majority. In the United forces the men of each lo

down from one generation to another, not only in Ire

anner by a circumstance which has come to my knowledge only a fe

State of Colorado was called Denver City-had for his grandfather Patrick Denvir, who did a man's share

their name with an "e" in the last syllable, whereas we and all of the name in the County Down use an "i." The lady's letter was not only interesting but most welcome, as showing that they were not only of

tholic neighbours, amongst whom no name is more cherished in the County Down than that of the Protestant General Monroe, who, my Aunt Mary used to tell us, was hanged at his own do

de of manhood. They have seen him gradually obtaining a share in the making of the laws of the land, and, naturally, becoming the predominant political power in Ireland-the Catholics being the majority of the population. I may be wrong, but I have a theory that many of the Protestants of Ireland

leaders as William Smith O'Brien, Thomas Davis, John Mitchel, John Martin, Isaac Butt, and Charles Stewart Parnell. The sa

men who, whatever their race or creed, are now children of the one common soil. The Orangeman looked upon himself as part of a foreign garrison, holding the "Papishes" in subjection. He was arm

f a body I used to hear them speaking of when I was a boy in Ballymagenaghy, call

across somewhere in the North of England. The incident, as described by him, was both amusing and saddening. He addr

e Prodestans in thi

t answered. "We in

ave nothing t

reland. Dolly's Brae is a kind of rugged defile through which passes the road from the town of Castlewellan, which, running westward, divides the townlands of Ballymagenaghy and Ballymagrehan. It is an entirely Catholic district, and not at all on the ordinary route by whi

ing over "Papish" houses, as the processionists came towards Dolly's Brae. From the heights above they were seen-my mother being o

victory. They had got well into the defile, and were firing at their opponents, who were in sight before them at some distance on the road, and into the houses on each side, when

thodox description, and a strong physical force Irishwoman as well, the Dolly's Brae engagem

fought befo

ecame a ma

pushed the

of Luimnea?h

n of the Orangemen was turned into a complete rout, and they fled, lea

pear on the scene again. The Orange anniversary was celebrated at Tollymore Park, the seat of Lord Roden, who was a sort of Orange deity at the time. Tollymore Park is some four or

e constabulary and a detachment of soldiers. The ordinary Englishman, who knows the police as they are in his country as the guardians of the public peace, must not confound them with those in Ireland. The Irish constabulary are simply the perman

e the police and soldiers under his command the order to fire-which they did-upon the people and into their houses. Consequent

ding in the newspapers the names of the victims who had been murdered outright or wound

ly overlooked. But to the friends of those who had been legally murdered, and the innocent people whose houses had been wrecked, this was a cruel mockery. Had the criminals been Catholic peasants, they would have been put upon their trial for their lives, and, at the very least, sent into penal servitude. What confidence

the too common case of an eviction, for the Annesleys had the reputation of being tolerably good landlords. The land, as I have said, was very poor, in fact, if the people got it for nothing it would hardly repay cultivation. But it was

he Penal days, a Catholic was scarcely allowed to live, seems to have become a strong Nationalist centre for South Down. This was my mother's part of the country. I have seen similar paragraphs which proved to me that,