Part 3

These errors of Spenser have been already exposed by Dr Jeffry Keating, a man of learning and undoubted honesty, but of great simplicity, which is characteristic of the age in which he lived, also by Gratianus Lucius, and by the learned Roderic O’Flaherty, who has devoted a chapter of his Ogygia to prove that Spenser, though a distinguished poet, can have no claim to credit as a historian. Spenser’s purpose in fabricating this story about the Mac Mahons was to hold them up as objects of hatred to the Irish and English people, as being descended from the murderer of Thomas à Becket. He never succeeded, however, in convincing Ever Mac Cooley, or any other of the rebels of the Farney, that they were descended from the Beares of England! Spenser also asserts that _it was said_ that most of the surnames ending in _an_, though then considered Irish, were in reality English, such as Hernan, Shinan, Mungan, &c. I do not, however, believe a word of this latter assertion of the great English poet, but conclude, with the simple and honest Keating, that, “as being a poet, he gave himself, as was usual with the profession, licence to revel in poetic fictions, which he dressed in flowery language to decoy his reader.” For we know that there is not a single instance on record of any Anglo-Norman family having taken any Irish names except such as they formed from the names or titles of their own ancestors by prefixing Mac, which they considered equivalent to the Norman Fitz, as Mac Maurice, Mac Gibbon, Mac Gerald, Mac William, which are equivalent to Fitz-Maurice, Fitz-Gibbon, Fitz-Gerald, Fitz-William. In this manner, however, the great Anglo-Norman families of the south and west of Ireland, who were after all more French and Irish than they were English (their ancestors having dwelt scarcely a century in England), nearly all hibernicised their names. It seems rather curious that Spenser has not furnished any list of those Anglo-Norman families who really hibernicised their names, while he was so minute in naming those who were not English, but whom he wished to make appear as such, in order to be enabled to censure them the more harshly for their treasons and rebellions. He contents himself by stating that there were great English families in Ireland who, he regretted to say, had become Irish in name and feeling. The manner in which he states this fact is worthy of consideration, and I shall therefore insert his very words here as they appear in the Dublin edition:--“Other great houses there bee of the English in Ireland, which thorough licentious conversing with the Irish or marrying or fostering with them, or lacke of meet nurture [_i. e._ education or rearing], or such other unhappy occasions, have degendred from their auncient dignities, and are now growne ‘_as Irish as O’Hanlon’s breech_,’ as the proverbe there is.”

Sir Henry Piers of Tristernagh, in the county of Westmeath, complains of the same custom among the families of English descent, in about a century after Spenser’s period.

“In the next place, I rank the degeneracy of many English families as a great hindrance of the reducing this people to civility, occasioned not only by fostering, that is, having their children nursed and bred during their tender years by the Irish, but much more by marriages with them, by means whereof our English in too many great families became in a few generations one both in manners and interest with the Irish, insomuch as many of them have not doubted [_i. e._ hesitated] to assume even Irish names and appellations: instances whereof are but too many even to this day: thus a Bermingham is called by them Mac Yoris, Fitz-Simmons, Mac Kuddery [_recte_ Mac-Ruddery], Wesley [_i. e._ Wellesley], Mac Falrene, &c., and from men thus metamorphosed what could be expected?”--_Collectanea_, vol. I. p. 105.

On the other hand, the Irish families who lived within the English pale and in its vicinity gradually conformed to the English customs, and assumed English surnames; and their doing so was deemed to be of such political importance that it was thought worthy the consideration of parliament: accordingly it was enacted by the statute of 5 Edward IV (1465), that every Irishman dwelling within the English pale, then comprising the counties of Dublin, Meath, Louth, and Kildare, should take an English surname. This act is so curious as illustrating the history of Irish family names, that it demands insertion in this place.

“An act, that the Irish men dwelling in the counties of Dublin, Myeth, Uriell, and Kildare, shall goe apparelled like English men, and weare theire beards after the English maner, sweare allegeance, and take English surname.”--_Rot. Parl. ca. 16._

“At the request of the Commons it is ordeyned and established by authority of the said parliament, that every Irish man that dwells betwixt or amongst Englishmen in the county of Dublin, Myeth, Uriell, and Kildare, shall goe like to one Englishman in apparell, and shaveing off his beard above the mouth, and shal be within one yeare sworne the liege man of the king in the hands of the lieutenant or deputy, or such as he will assigne to receive this oath for the multitude that is to be sworne, and shall take to him an English surname of one towne, as Sutton, Chester, Trym, Skryne, Corke, Kinsale; or colour, as white, blacke, browne; or arte or science, as smith or carpenter; or office, as cooke, butler; and that he and his issue shall use this name under payne of forfeyting of his goods yearely till the premises be done, to be levied two times by the yeare to the king’s warres, according to the discretion of the lieutenant of the king or his deputy.”--5 _Edward_ IV. cap. 3.

“In obedience to this law,” observes Harris, in his additions to Ware, “the Shanachs took the name of Foxes, the Mac Gabhans of Smiths, Geals of Whites, the Branachs of Walshes, and many others; the said words being only literal translations from the Irish into the English language.” Harris, however, I may remark, is very much mistaken when he supposes that the Branachs (Breaṫnaiġ, _i. e._ _Britones_) of the English pale in Ireland are an Irish family, or that any ancient Irish family had borne that name before the Anglo-Norman and Welsh families settled in Ireland towards the latter end of the twelfth century; and he is also wrong in assuming that the Irish word for _Geal_, white, was by itself ever used as the name of any family in Ireland. In the other two instances he is correct; for the head of the O’Caharnys of Teffia, who was usually styled the Shinnagh, translated his name into Fox, and the Mac-an-Gowans and O’Gowans translated their name into Smith.

The importance thus attached by this act to the bearing of an English surname soon induced many of the less distinguished Irish families of the English pale and its vicinity to translate or disguise their Irish names, so as to make them appear English ones, as Mac Intire to Carpenter, Mac Spallane to Spenser, Mac Cogry to L’Estrange, &c.; but the more distinguished families of the pale and its vicinity, as Mac Murrogh, O’Brennan, O’Kayly, and others, retained with pride their original Irish names unaltered; for while they could look back with pride on a long line of ancestors, they could not bear the idea of being considered as the descendants of tradesmen and petty artizans, a feeling which prevails at the present day, and will prevail for ever; for though a man has himself sunk into poverty, he still feels a pride in believing that he is of respectable origin. It is certain, however, that the translation and assimilation of Irish surnames to English ones was carried to a great extent in the vicinity of Dublin and throughout Leinster; and hence it may at this day be safely concluded that many families bearing English surnames throughout the English pale are undoubtedly of Milesian or Danish origin.

It appears, however that this statute had not the intended effect; for, about a century after its having passed, we find Spenser recommending a renewal of it, inasmuch as the Irish had then become as Irish as ever. His words on this point are highly interesting, as throwing great light on the history of Irish surnames towards the close of the sixteenth century, and we shall therefore lay them before the reader:--

“Moreover, for the better breaking of these heads _and_ [of?] septs which (I told you) was one of the greatest strengthes of the Irish, methinkes it should be very well to renewe that ould statute which was made in the reigne of Edward the Fourth in Ireland, by which it was commanded, that whereas all men used to be called by the name of their septs, according to the severall nations, and had no surnames at all, that from henceforth each one should take upon himself a severall surname, either of his trade and faculty, or of some quality of his body or minde, or of the place where he dwels, so as every one should be distinguished from the other, or from the most part, whereby they shall not only not depend upon the head of their sept, as now they do, but also in time learne quite to forget his [their] Irish nation. And herewithal would I also wish all the O’s and the Mac’s which the heads of septs have taken to their names, to be utterly forbidden and extinguished. For, that the same being an ordinance (as some say) first made by O’Brien for the strengthening of the Irish, the abrogating thereof will as much enfeeble them.”

Towards the close of the next century we find Sir Henry Piers of Tristernagh, in his account of the county of Westmeath, rejoicing that the less distinguished Irish families were beginning to take English surnames:--

“These, I suppose, may be reckoned among the causes of the slow progress this nation hath made towards civility and accommodation to our English laws and customs; yet these notwithstanding, this people, especially in this and the adjoining counties, are in our days become more polite and civil [civilized] than in former ages, and some very forward to accommodate themselves to the English modes, particularly in their habit, language, and surnames, which _by all manner of ways they strive to make English or English like_; this I speak _of the inferior rank of them_. Thus you have Mac Gowan surname himself Smith; Mac Killy, Cock; Mac Spallane, Spenser; Mac Kegry, L’Estrange, &c., herein making small amends for our degenerate English before spoken of.”

But I have exceeded the space which the Journal allows for this article, and I must defer the remainder to a future number, promising the reader that I shall make every effort to bring the subject of Irish surnames to a conclusion in two additional articles.

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ARISTOCRATIC TRAVELLING.--Mr Theobald was at that instant speaking to Lord Bolsover. “Listen,” said the Earl of Rochdale to Arlington, “and you will hear some of the uses and advantages of travel.” Arlington accordingly directed his attention to the speakers. “I will just tell you what I did,” said Mr Theobald. “Brussels, Frankfort, Berlin, Vienna, Munich, Milan, Naples, and Paris, and all that in two months. No man has ever done it in less.” “That’s a fast thing; but I think I could have done it,” said Lord Bolsover, “with a good courier. I had a fellow once who could ride a hundred miles a-day for a fortnight.” “I came from Vienna to Calais,” said young Leighton, “in less time than the government courier. No other Englishman ever did that.” “Hem! I am not sure of that,” said Lord Bolsover. “But I’ll just tell you what I have done: from Rome to Naples in nineteen hours; a fact, upon my honour; and from Naples to Paris in six days.” “Partly by sea?” interrogated Leighton. “No! all by land,” replied Lord Bolsover, with a look of proud satisfaction. “I’ll just tell you what I did,” Mr Leighton chimed in again, “and I think it is a good plan--it shows what one _can_ do. I went straight on end, as fast as I could, to what was to be the end of my journey. This was Sicily. So straight away I went there at the devil’s own rate, and never stopped anywhere by the way; changed horses at Rome and all those places, and landed in safety in----I forget exactly how long from the time of starting, but I have got it down to an odd minute. As for the places I left behind, I saw them all on my way back, except the Rhine, and I steamed down that in the night-time.” “I have travelled a good deal by night,” said Theobald. “With a _dormeuse_ and travelling lamp I think it is pleasant, and a good plan of getting on.” “And you can honestly say, I suppose,” said Denbigh, “that you have slept successfully through as much fine country as any man living?” “Oh, I did see the country,” replied Theobald, “that is, all that was worth seeing. My courier knew all about that, and used to stop and waken me whenever we came to anything remarkable. Gad! I have reason to remember it, too, for I caught an infernal bad cold one night when I turned out by lamp-light to look at a waterfall. I never looked at another.” There was a pause in the conversation, and the group moved onwards to another room.--_Arlington, a Tale, by the Hon. Mr Lister._

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Truth will never be palatable to those who are determined not to relinquish error, but can never give offence to the honest and well-meaning; for the plain-dealing remonstrances of a friend differ as widely from the rancour of an enemy as the friendly probe of a physician from the dagger of an assassin.--_E. W. Montague._

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PARENTAL DUTIES.--Bring thy children up in learning and obedience, yet without outward austerity. Praise them openly, reprehend them secretly. Give them good countenance and convenient maintenance, otherwise thy life will seem their bondage, and what portion thou shalt leave them at thy death they will thank death for it, and not thee. And I am persuaded that the foolish cockering of some parents, and the overstern carriage of others, cause more men and women to take ill courses than their own vicious inclinations. Marry thy daughters in time, lest they marry themselves; and train not up thy sons in the wars, for he that sets up his rest to live by that profession can hardly be an honest man or a good Christian; besides, it is a science no longer in request than use, for soldiers in peace are like chimneys in summer.--_Lord Burleigh’s Maxims._

HALF AN HOUR IN IRELAND.

(_From Charles O’Malley._)

When the Bermuda transport sailed from Portsmouth for Lisbon, I happened to make one of some four hundred interesting individuals, who, before they became food for powder, were destined to try their constitutions on pickled pork. The second day after our sailing, the winds became adverse; it blew a hurricane from every corner of the compass but the one it ought; and the good ship, that should have been standing straight for the Bay of Biscay, was scudding away with a double-reefed topsail towards the coast of Labrador. For six days we experienced every sea-manœuvre that usually preludes a shipwreck; and at length, when, what from sea sickness and fear, we had become utterly indifferent to the result, the storm abated, the sea went down, and we found ourselves lying comfortably in the harbour of Cork, we had a strange suspicion on our minds that the frightful scenes of the past week had been nothing but a dream.

“Come, Mr Medlicot,” said the skipper to me, “we shall be here for a couple of days to refit; had you not better go ashore and see the country?”

I sprung to my legs with delight; visions of cowslips, larks, daisies, and mutton chops, floated before my excited imagination, and in ten minutes I found myself standing at that pleasant little inn at Cove, which, opposite Spike Island, rejoices in the name of the Goat and Garters.

“Breakfast, waiter,” said I; “a beefsteak--fresh beef, mark ye; fresh eggs, bread, milk, and butter, all fresh.” No more hard tack, thought I, no salt butter, but a genuine land breakfast.

“Up stairs, No. 4, sir,” said the waiter, as he flourished a dirty napkin, indicating the way.

Up stairs I went, and in due time the appetizing little _dejeune_ made its appearance. Never did a miser’s eye revel over his broad acres with more complacent enjoyment than did mine skim over the mutton and the muffin, the teapot, the trout, and the devilled kidney, so invitingly spread out before me. Yes, thought I, as I smacked my lips, this is the reward of virtue; pickled pork is a probationary state that admirably fits us for future enjoyments. I arranged my napkin upon my knee, I seized my knife and fork, and proceeded with most critical acumen to bisect a beefsteak. Scarcely, however, had I touched it, when with a loud crash the plate smashed beneath it, and the gravy ran piteously across the cloth. Before I had time to account for the phenomenon, the door opened hastily, and the waiter rushed into the room, his face redolent with smiles, while he rubbed his hands in an ecstacy of delight.

“It’s all over, sir;” said he, “glory be to God, it’s all done.”

“What’s over? what’s done?” said I with impatience.

“M’Mahon is satisfied,” replied he, “and so is the other gentleman.”

“Who and what the devil do you mean?”

“It’s over, sir, I say,” replied the waiter again; “he fired in the air.”

“Fired in the air,” said I. “Did they fight in the room below stairs?”

“Yes, sir,” said the waiter with a benign smile.

“That will do,” said I, as seizing my hat I rushed out of the house, and hurrying to the beach took a boat for the ship. Exactly half an hour had elapsed since my landing, but even those short thirty minutes had fully as many reasons, that although there may be few more amusing, there are some safer places to live in than the green island.

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All men are masked; the world is one universal disguise, each individual endeavouring to fathom his neighbour’s intentions, at the same time wishing to hide his own, and, above all, striving to secure a reputable character rather by words than deeds.

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Persons who are always innocently cheerful and good-humoured are very useful in the world; they maintain peace and happiness, and spread a thankful temper amongst all who live around them.--_Miss Talbot._

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