The Death-Flag

Front matter

/zh^<yjo '> THE DEATH-FLAG. BY MISS CBU3IPE, AUTHOR OF " GERALDINE OF DESMOND ; OR, IRELAND IN THE REIGN OF ELIZABETH," &c. &C &c. " Has Godlike Charles (such m&tchless glories past) Conquer'd so oft, to be subdued at last ? " Ode by a Scotch Officer in 1746. " A race of rugged Mariners are these ; Unpolishd men, and boist'rous as their seas ; The native Islanders alone their care, And hateful he that breathes a foreign air." — Pope. " I'll read you matter deep and dangerous ; As full of peril and advent'rous spirit, As to o'er walk a current, roaring loud, On the unsteadfast footing of a spear." — Shakspeare. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: WILLIAM SHOBERL, PUBLISHER 20, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1852. LONDON : Printed by Schulze and Co., 13, Poland Street. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD MONTEAGLE, &c. &c. &c. My dear Lord, The memories of by-gone days which justify past and present esteem, induce me to dedicate the following pages to your Lordship.

In a public point of view, I feel they are inscribed with peculiar propriety to one who doubtless is familiar with the Historical events they record, some of which being connected with Ireland may possess an especial interest for her Political Advocate, who, in your Lordship's person, combines the highest attainments of Literature, with tlie patriotism of an enlightened Statesman. I have the honour to remains My dear Lord Monteagle, Your Lordship's Faithful and Affectionate Friend, The Author, A

Preface

. The object of the work now presented to the public is to connect with the interest of Romance a measure of the instruction and utility of History. The truth of fact and the truthfulness of fic tion, when drawn with psychological and moral correctness from the phenomena of Man's nature and the course of human action, differ only in one respect ; essentially, and to a great extent effectively, they are the same. As the artist brings together from many individuals those physical developments in each which carry most of beauty, strength, or expres sion, in order to unite them in a single counte nance or form designed to represent ideal perfec tion in the human face or figure ; so does the elaborator of a work of fiction endeavour to weave into a uniform web of incident and cha racter the moral picture he designs to draw of the general workings of men's minds and hearts, of their sentiments and passions — tastes and judg ments — virtues and vices — deeds and struggles — contests and rivalries — sorrows and enjoyments, amid the endlessly-diversified exhibitions on the great stage of human life, adapting those select views which appear to approach nearest to the model of ideal perfection, or to its reverse. A

PREFACE.

. VI How far that purpose has been attained in the following pages, a discriminating public must de termine. I shall only add, that, having submitted the suc cessive portions of my work to the perusal and criticism of several of the most gifted minds among the literary characters of the day — two of whom, alas ! have since paid the debt of nature* — I was counselled to commit "The Death- Flag" to the tide of public opinion by expressed judgments so decided and gratifying, that to tran scribe them here would savour of self-laudation. I am, however, free to avow that my wish and aim have gone beyond a mere ministration to the amusement of an idle hour in a portraiture con fined to the frivolities of life. In the conduct of my narrative, as well as in the machinery — so to speak — -which I have employed, my guiding principles have been " to point a moral and adorn a tale," by depicting in broad lights the retributive justice attendant, even in this world, on colossal crimes, which, appalling though they be, have their moral use as portentous warnings when faithfully portrayed, not as the favourite, but as the darker bearings incidental to the subject of the historic pencil. * Professor Maovey Napier, the late Editor of the " Edin burgh Review " and of tho " Encyclopædia Britannica," and Horace Smith, Esq. PREFACE, VII Tbe crimes related in the following pages occurred about the middle of the last century.

There has been neither exaggeration nor mitiga tion as to their extent, nor have I materially departed from literal fact in their details. The curious social position of the Criminals, illustrating as it does the anomalous state of Irish manners about the year 1748, incredible as it may seem, is equally true; nor have the courage, audacity, successes, attainments, and intelligence, of the daring spirits of my narrative, as exhibited in the subtlest political intrigues of the period, both at home and abroad, been over-rated. The analysis of such characters, depressing as it is to the student of human nature, is yet full of absorbing though gloomy interest. I acknow ledge, however, that one result of their delinea tion I found occasionally adverse to my feelings as well as to my taste. I allude to the indispen sableness of preserving their vraisemblance by making them act and speak in character.

Yet surely an Author cannot with justice be con demned, far less held responsible, for the strong language or the free and false opinions which a consistent and vigorous portraiture of the reckless and reprehensible personages of his or her work necessitates. Were this principle once ad mitted into the Canons of Criticism, the ' Satan' of Milton, the ' Faust' of Goethe, and many other splendid creations of Genius, which are unani-

PREFACE.

. VIII mously admitted to be chefs-d'œuvres in Litera ture, would fall under the ban of public censure. When the subject is fairly and philosophically considered, it must, moreover, be allowed that the History of Mankind has ever been a deep, pro longed Tragedy upon the World's Theatre. From age to age the same crimes have been perpe trated, though under different modifications of garb and circumstance, and it would be incon sistent to the last degree to paint the actors in such scenes en couleur de .rose, or, as if their ordi nary discourse was under the happy influences of the fine morality of Truth, to which the whole scope of their deeds and thoughts stands out in awful contrast. As to the preponderance of Virtues or Vices exhibited en masse by the millions of human beings who have trod the arena of life and vanished, it is left for even-handed Justice to strike her balance on that point, while pro nouncing her award.

The grandest Poets of Antiquity have derived a pungent interest from drawing the portraiture of the great passions, however evinced in shapes of enormous guilt. Shakspeare, and many of the noblest dramatists of more modern times, have exhibited the same predilection, and, in doing so, have not only found their proper sphere, but have fulfilled their duty as instructors to Mankind. If this be granted, why should not tlie Historic PREFACE, IX Novelist follow their example ? It is freely ad mitted that this must be done with comparatively inferior talent; yet still it may be with equal be nefit to the cause of morality, if the evil of Sin, and the retribution that sooner or later it is sure to receive from the just Governor of the Universe, be fairly represented. The Spirit of the Past might thus be made to minister to the Wisdom of the Present, especially in our own day, when the genius of Scott, Bulwer, Dickens, James, and other writers has raised the Historic Novel almost to a level with the Epic, and this to such an extent as to throw the Drama into a partial eclipse.

What in point of fact was the Epopee of the Ancients but a sustained, continuous narration of grand and stirring events preserved in the Unities of time and place ? The Historic Romance of the Moderns should be regulated under the same laws, and ought to occupy to a certain extent the same position, and this with even greater advantage to the Public, because its modifications admit of more various forms, inasmuch as the shapes of Society at the present era are more manifold, while the advance of knowledge, and the consequent requirements of Mankind, are infinitely more diverse than those ef tbe Epopœists. But to return to the more immediate staple of my narrative.

PREFACE.

. X The whole range of imaginative and real his tory can scarcely serve as a parallel for the incon gruous composition, the wild and restless ele ments, which, at an epoch not so very distant from our own, pervaded every phase of society in the Sister Isle, affording the most striking incidents, powerfully characteristic of its national idiosyncrasy, and abounding with materials for the humorous, the picturesque, and the pathetic. The abduction of Miss Mullane (the Edith O'Moore of these volumes) is a verification of the adage that " Truth is often stranger than Fiction." The fact is mentioned in " Derrick's Letters," — a rare and curious book, which depicts the period of 1748 in a manner equally amusing and in structive. The public trial for the Abduction perpetrated by the younger O'Sullivan took place in the Court-house of Cork, under the presidency of Judges Caufurd and French ; and the tragic fate and punishment of his notorious Uncle, for the murder of Mr. Puxley, are also matters of History.

I confess, however, that amid the vast and heterogeneous mass of materials for the construc tion of my work, which equally fascinated my interest and tasked my research, the eventful life of Charles Edward especially after his defeat at Culloden, I found the most arresting and attractive. The victories and sufferings of the ill-

PREFACE.

. XI fated Prince previously to that memorable Battle are familiar to all my readers as "household words," but his subsequent adventures in various parts of Europe are comparatively unknown. I have found few, even among the most culti vated persons, who were fully acquainted with them, or aware of the audacious and successful system of piracy on the high seas practised by the natives of the south of Ireland at the period of my narrative ; still fewer have I met cognisant of the fact that a strong, though secret, party existed there in 1748 to effect the restoration of the exiled Stuart to the Throne of his ancestors. In treating this portion of my work, various incidental opportunities for carrying it out his torically came to my aid during my long residence at Rome, where I had permission to consult authorities in the Vatican upon the subject of the Royal Stuarts which are rarely accessible.

Mr. Lockhart, in his admirable Life of Sir Walter Scott, gives many interesting anecdotes which go far to prove that his celebrated father-in-law, during his sojourn in Italy, was as anxious to obtain information on the subject of his " favourite hero," Prince Charles Edward, as on any other ; and, to a great extent, I felt the same. In my analysis of the mixed and singular character of the Victor of Preston, after disap pointed aspirations for human greatness and the consequent re-action of bitterness had dimmed

PREFACE.

. XII its original lustre, it is possible, through invo luntary sympathy with his redeemable points and human sufferings, I may have fallen too much into what are called Jacobite principles ; but if this indeed be so (and the question is doubtful), let it be remembered that their public influ ence has long since passed away. In contemplating the series of events which created those feelings, and the ordinations of the supreme Disposer of the fate of Empires, be it also never forgotten, and acknowledged with gratitude to Divine Wisdom, that the Throne to which Charles Edward Stuart aspired is now filled by an illustrious Queen, in whose veins his regal blood flows, but whose character exhibits none of the defects, though adorned with most of the virtues, of her ill-fated progenitor. Under the gentle yet powerful sway of Victoria of England may national greatness and private virtue continue to flourish, thus making a moral to the Governments of the Earth, on too large a portion of which the struc tures of Royalty have been so deeply fractured by the fiery career of Revolution ! 21, PriHces Street, Hanover Square, London, November, 1851.

Chapter I

" Were honour to be scann'd by long descent, From ancestors illustrious he could vaunt A lineage of the greatest ; and recount Among his fathers, Names of ancient story, Himself an undeserver." — Roue. The Barony of Bear and Bantry forms the extreme south-west point of the county of Cork. The Rev. Horatio Townsend, in his truly valuable Statistical Survey of the district, observes " that a striking and remarkable contrast is exhibited here as well as in Great Britain between the east and west sides of the island, the latter of which contains an infinitely greater proportion of high, rocky, and mountainous surface." In proceeding from Imakilly westward, VOL. I. B continues Mr. Townsend, " the country gradually increases in altitude and ruggedness, until it attains the ne plus ultra of both in the Barony of Bear and Bantry.

The singular and excessive wildness of this district is however occasionally relieved by the fertility of some spots, and the grandeur and beauty of others. The bay of Bantry, from almost any point of view, exhibits one of the noblest prospects on a scale of romantic magnitude that imagination can well conceive. The extent of the great body of water, from the eastern extremity to the ocean, is about twenty-five miles — the breadth, including the islands, from six to eight. It contains, be sides some small, two very large islands, differing extremely from each other in quality and appearance, but perfectly suited to the respective purposes of their different situations. Bear Island is very high, rocky, and coarse, standing a little within the mouth of the bay, braves the fury of the western waves, and forms, by the shelter of its body, a most secure and spacious haven."

It is unnecessary to follow Mr. Townsend in his account of Whiddy, the other island mentioned by him, which is situated near the head of the bay, as the scene of our story lies chiefly at Beare-haven, and among the wild mountains in its immediate neighbourhood. The whole population of this district bore the name of Sullivan, for the use of the antecedent vowel was strictly confined to the head of the Clan.* In the present degenerate days, this distinction is completely lost. The O' is no longer the mark of high birth, but it was once a designation of lofty bearing and proud import, even so late as the middle of the last century, the time of which we are about to write. If by chance a Carty, a Leary, or a Driscol from the adjacent districts became a resident in The O'Sullivan's country, he soon dropped his "foreign" patronymic, and assumed that of the Clan among whom he had become a settler.

Thus every one in the district was * Oliol Ollum is stated by Irish Antiquaries to have been Sovereign of Munster in the second centmy : his successors were Kings of Bear and Bantry, of which regal race The O'Sullivan-Beare was a lineal descendant. b2 a Sullivan ; and, as the stock of favourite Christian names is not very extensive, it hap pened that, speaking in round numbers, a tract of ten miles could boast of no less than fifty Johns, forty Williams, and thirty Murty Sullivans. This state of affairs rendered some mode of distinguishing a particular John, William, and Murty necessary: they were therefore called, after the name of their resi dences, as Shane Cooleagh* — after the colour of their complexion, as William duve\ — from some peculiarity of character, as Murty Tongue arrigud. \ Again, if a William Sullivan happened to have been in Spain, he was called William Spaunaugh ; § or, if a Murty had killed his man — a circumstance of not uncommon occurrence — he at once was distinguished by the badge of baronetcy, and known as Murty Lauve Darrig, or "Murty of the Red Hand."

Some of their sobriquets were, indeed as they still remain, it may be said are, whimsical enough, which the instances * John of Cooleagh. t Black William. % Murty the Persuasive, literally the Silver-tongued. . Spanish William. related by the Rev. Cæsar Otway, in his amusing work "Sketches in Ireland," will serve to illustrate. That gentleman, when crossing the mountains which divide the counties of Cork and Kerry, met a poor man with whom he entered into conversa tion respecting the land held by him and the landlord to whom he paid his rent. "Who is your landlord ?" asked Mr. Otway. " Mr. Lieutenant " was the reply. " That's an odd name: is he a new settler here ?'' "Ohno, bless your honour; he's of the raal ould stock — the right O'Sullivan-Beare." "Why then call him Mr. Lieutenant?" "Why, is he not afther serving his Majesty in the militia ?"

On ano ther excursion, it was Mr. Otway 's fortune to meet a personage whose singular appear ance, which he so well describes, led him to inquire who that was? "That's O'Sullivan Dismal." — " Dismal enough, without ques tion; but is he thus called from his appear ance?" "Oh no! he's a worthy, good-humoured gentleman ; but he's called from his place out there yonder, the house on the bleak promontory — that's Mount Dismal." This discussion on names, the English reader will probably find of service in the progress of the following pages, as it Avill save the introduction of many explanations, which always, however necessary, injure the interest of a narrative. But, as the remedy is sometimes said to be worse than the disease, we shall no longer delay the commencement of our history by offering illustrations of certain portions of it.

About the middle of the last century, therefore, in the wild district of Beare-haven (which we have described in the words of a distinguished statistical writer), stood an old mansion called Ross Mac Owen. After what has been said, it may be almost unnecessary to inform the reader that "the Court," as it was styled, of Ross Mac Owen belonged to an O'Sullivan. Whether the name of " Court " was given to this mansion from the inclosed space in which it stood, or from the regal establishment which its Lord supported, we freely leave, for conjecture and discussion, to all curious persons who may feel an interest in the investigation of doubtful matters. If behind "The Court" towered the rugged and inhospitable " Mountain of Hungry Hill," the "Court" itself, not withstanding an accordance in outward appearance, presented within abundant proof that its huge kitchen merited a far different name.

Tiie " Manus Sullivanis" was the boast of every member of the family, and more doorways than one at Ross Mac Owen were decorated with a rudely-sculptured hand and the vaunting, yet really characteristic, legend, of '■' Xulla manus, Tam liberalis, Atque generalis, Atque universalis, Quani Sullivanis." The possessor of Ross Mac Owen had been christened, we believe, simply Murty Sul livan after his father, grandfather, great grandfather, and a host of cousins too numerous for particular mention. During his father's lifetime, he was distinguished as Murty Oge, which in English signifies Murty the younger, and which appellation he continued, like our late witty licenser of the drama, long after the decease of his worthy parent. Here, however, the similitude between our hero and Mr. Colman terminates, for few Old Bailey criminals had more aliases alter his name than Murty Oge O'Sullivan- Beare, as he proudly but improperly wrote himself, always taking particular care to flourish the 0' of six times greater size than the other letters, which his relative and name sake, Murty Tongue Arrigud, the schoolmaster at Kenmare, remarked, " made Murty Oge's signature look, for all the world, like a turkey's egg in a wren's nest !"

Murty, a name correctly written Muir cheartach, or Murcheardach, signifies, in that venerable and harmonious language, the Iberno Celtic, '■ expert at Sea;" but, as English ears were ignorant of its original meaning, and as English lips, moreover, found dif ficulty in giving it the correct emphasis, Murty Oge, when in England or in English society, exchanged his proper name for the more romantic,yet familiar sounding one of Mortimer. Having made frequent excursions to the Continent, he was, on his returns, spoken of among his clansmen as " Murty the Rover," and " Murty Spaunaugh" (the Spaniard) ; while on the coasts of France and Spain he was not merely known, but celebrated in song as " The Bold Captain Sullivan," and at the courts of those countries he assumed the style and dignity of the Earl of Bearhaven, and had been actually received as such.

We beg therefore to introduce the reader to Murty Oge, — alias Mr. Mortimer O'Sullivan, — alias Murty the Rover, — alias Murty Spau naugh. — alias the Bold Captain Sullivan, — alias the Earl of Bearhaven of Ross Mac Owen — a square-built little gentleman with a well-curled periwig and a three-cocked hat edged round with gold lace. In age, his Lord ship of Bearhaven appeared to be about fifty, having a red, jolly, weather-beaten face, seamed by three or four severe scars, which could not be said to disfigure, as they tended to give a marked expression to it. That expression, when assumed, spoke determi nation of purpose, and was preceded by the b fixedness of a remarkably large light blue eye (for Murty Oge had but one) and the energetic compression of the lips. But this was far from being the ordinary expression of The O'Sullivan — so we shall in future generally call him : on the contrary, there was a wandering, drunken leer in his look, and a good humoured grin displayed a mouthful of formidable tusks, rather than teeth.

To the establishment supported by The O'Sullivan at Ross Mac Owen, we have already applied the term regal, and perhaps not incorrectly, as it was little dissimilar to that of Erin's monarch in the days of old — " Ere her faithless sons betrayed her, When Malachi wore the collar of gold That he won from the proud invader." The O'Sullivan-Beare maintained a body guard of twelve stout followers, each of whom was provided with cutlass and pistols, and in appearance they resembled the sailors at present employed in what is termed the Coast Blockade service of Kent and Sussex. From a crowd of clansmen and retainers, to the amount of about forty, who were daily to be found in the spacious kitchen of Ross Mac Owen, we shall particularize Philip Sullivan, or " Piping Phil," as he was more commonly called, whose social qualities, united to some skill on the bagpipes, rendered him an universal favourite.

He had been blind from an early age, but so little did the loss of sight affect his animal spirits, that "Piping Phil " was notoriously the merriest fellow in the Barony. No wedding could take place within twenty, ay, we may say within forty miles of Ross Mac Owen without the aid of Phil's harmony. In short, mirth and music were with blind Philip Sullivan wherever he went.

Chapter II

« Thus Ambition grasps The empire of the soul." Akefsside. " Lisons, et voyons sa pensee." Racine, It is time to proceed more decisively with our history, as we perceive that all we have as yet told of it amounts to the scene — the wild district of Beare-baven — the period — about the middle of the last century — and the names of the principal actors — the O'Sullivans. We therefore, without further preface, introduce the reader to The O'Sullivan-Beare — with all his astounding list of aliases ! — comfortably seated at his breakfast-table on the 23rd day of October, a.d. 1748, at about five minutes be fore nine, a.m. Were it not that the hour satisfactorily proves the meal to be intended for breakfast, appearances would rather indicate the more substantial repast of dinner. Here is no tea, no coflee, no eggs, no toast, no muffins, even bread is wanting ; but in place thereof stands a huge, untempting-looking ham, of murky and bristly exterior — a pile of oysters of monstrous size — slices of delicious salmon broiled upon arbutus skewers which send forth a savoury odour — and a wooden bowl filled with smoking potatoes.

A black quart bottle " half full and half empty," as the Irish phrase is, with a horn goblet, were deposited beside the plate of the Chieftain, and on the floor near him was a large earthen pitcher of spring water. " This salmon is excellent," muttered The O'Sullivan ; " excellent indeed !" he repeated, after the disappearance of several slices; "from the richness of the curd it cannot have been above ten minutes out of the water. Holla!" he exclaimed, rising and going to the window, before which stood four or five of his followers : " Holla, boys ! where did you catch the little salmon this morning ?" " It was I that cotched him, plase your honour," said Daniel Connell, — or, as he was now called, Daniel Sullivan, — stepping up to the window with a smile and a kind of a bow ; " 'twas I surely that cotched the thief of the world clare an' clane out of the washer, as snug as the go widen salmon that's up on the top of Shandon steeple in Cork all the ways, an' 'tis often myse'f has looked up at that same."

" Where did you catch him, Dan ?" said The O'Sullivan. " Is it where I cotched the fellow ? Och ! thin if ever a salmon was foolish, 'tis that crather that your honour's afther ating was the fool entirely to come where he did ! Why thin did you ever hear, Sir, what the pinkeen said to the salmon ? Your honour knows what a pinkeen is, — a little bit of a fish not half the size of one's thumb — Oh, not half the size ! Well, a salmon was once upon a time pinned in a nit, and there was a little pinkeen in along wid him ; to be sure that has often happened before, an' will often happen agin widout any kind of doubt; but this salmon, you see, Sir, had been ever an' always talking at the poor little pinkeen, for his being so small entirely, an' he was always boasthing of his own grand size. Well, whin the pinkeen saw the nit was round about 'em both complately, he turns to the salmon, who niver saw a bit o' what was going on, nor was draaming of sich a thing— an' says he, 'Is it proud you are of your size this mornin', Mr. Salmon?' 'Surely I am,' says the salmon, ' an' 'tis a quare quistion, an' a mighty quare one too, for sich a little bit of a crather as yoursef to axe me.' ' Bather shin !'* says the pinkeen.

That was the very word, an' not another did he say, but out wid him through the nit, laving the salmon in quod. Well, plase your honour, whin I cotched the salmon a while ago 'twas the very same word I said ; Bather shin says I." " But where did you catch him, Dan 1" said The O'Sullivan, asking the question for the third time. This, however, was nothing extraordinary, for Dan — the masther's own Valley de Cham as he styled himself— never, * May be so. if he could possibly avoid it, gave a direct answer to any question whatsoever. "I cotched him in a mighty proper place, to be shure, Sir," said Dan ; " an' isn't it a wondher now that he wouldn't have known betther than to come there ?" " Where was it, Dan ?" said The O'Sullivan at last, with some impatience of manner. " Why, in the kitchen to be shure, your Honour," returned Dan, " where else ? quite convanient to one's hand, an' jist in proper time to broil for your Honour's breakfast."

Singular as this account may appear of the capture of the salmon by Daniel Connell — whom we will so call henceforward, for the sake of distinction, instead of by his assumed name of Sullivan — it was nevertheless per fectly correct. Through the kitchen of Murty Oge's house at Ross Mac Owen ran a considerable stream of water, which was guarded at one end by a strong iron grating ; and thus a desirable convenience was afforded for the important Irish culinary operations of washing fish and potatoes. This grating, when, by chance, a stray trout or salmon made its appearance in the stream, rendered the further progress of the fish impossible ; and, on the passage by which, according to Dan's notions, they so foolishly entered, being closed, their capture was certain. Hence " salmon and sea-trout were frequently taken as well as dressed in O'Sullivan's kitchen."* The Chieftain, who had proceeded to the breakfast-table, now returned to the window with the horn goblet in his hand, — like the bottle before described, " half full and half empty " of whiskey.

" Here, Dan," said he, after putting it to his own lips, " that salmon deserves a drink this morning." "Och thin, long life to your honour! an' long may you reign over us, an' good luck attind you wherever you go, night an' day; an' here's luck to us all, an' more luck too, an luck's mother for that matther !" returned Dan, and then, with voracious swallow, this "whiskey-devouring Irishman," as the song has it, tossed off at a breath the contents of the goblet : " 'Tis the right stuff, the raal * See Smith's History of Kerry. nat'ral kind," said he, " that jist tickles one's throat like a dhrop of oil on a feather ; may luck attind your honour," he added, placing the goblet on the window-sill, "I niver tasted the aqual of it ; betther can't be." " In faith, Dan," said The O'Sullivan with a smile, " I stand somewhat in need of your wishes for luck ; here is the 23rd of October, and no cutter is in the bay !