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                     THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL.

    NUMBER 23.      SATURDAY, DECEMBER 5, 1840.      VOLUME I.

[Illustration: TULLY CASTLE, COUNTY OF FERMANAGH, LOOKING OVER LOUGH
ERNE.]

We have chosen the prefixed view of the Castle of Tully as a subject
for illustration, less from any remarkable picturesqueness of character
or historical interest connected with the castle itself, than for
the opportunity which is thus afforded us of making a few remarks on
the beautiful lake--the Windermere of Ireland, as Mr Inglis happily
called it--on the bank of which it is situated. We cannot conceive any
circumstance that better illustrates the truth of the general principle
that, as Shakspeare expresses it, “what we have we prize not at its
worth,” than the fact that Lough Erne--the admiration and delight of
strangers, the most extensive and beautifully diversified sheet of water
in Ireland--is scarcely known as an object of interest and beauty to the
people of Ireland generally, and is rarely or never visited by them for
pleasure. It is true that the nobility and gentry who reside upon its
shores or in their vicinity, are not deficient in a feeling of pride in
their charming locality, and even boast its superiority of beauty to the
far-famed Lakes of Killarney; yet till very recently this admiration was
almost exclusively confined to themselves, and the beauties of Lough
Erne were as little known to the people of Ireland generally as those of
the lakes and highlands of Connemara, neither of which have ever yet
been included in the books concocted for the use of pleasure tourists in
Ireland.

But Lough Erne will not be thus neglected or unappreciated much longer.
Its beauties have been discovered and been eulogised by strangers, who
have taught us to set a juster value on the landscape beauties which
Providence has so bountifully given to our country; and it will soon be a
reproach to us to be unfamiliar with them.

It would be utterly impossible, within the limits necessarily assigned
to our topographical articles, to give any detailed account of a lake so
extensive as Lough Erne, and whose attractive features are so numerous;
but as these features shall from time to time be included among our
subjects for illustration, it will be proper at least to give our readers
a general idea of its extent, and the pervading character of its scenery,
on this our first introduction of it to their notice; and with this
view we shall commence with a description given of it by an author of a
History of the County of Fermanagh, written in the seventeenth century,
but not hitherto published.

“This lake is plentifully stocked with salmon, pike, bream, eel, trout,
&c.

Seven miles broad in the broadest part. Said to contain 365 islands,
the land of which is excellent. The largest of the islands is
Inismore, containing nine tates and a half of old plantation measure.
Bally-Mac-Manus, now called Bell-isle, containing two large tates much
improved by Sir Ralph Gore; Killygowan, Innis Granny, Blath-Ennis,
Ennis-Liag, Ennis M’Knock, Cluan-Ennis, Ennis-keen, Ennis-M’Saint, and
Babha.

These are the [islands] most notable, except the island of Devenish, of
which I’ll speak in its proper place; however, by the bye, in Devenish is
remembered the pious St Molaishe, who herein consecrated two churches and
_a large aspiring steeple_ [the round tower], and an abbey, which abbey
was rebuilt A. D. 1430 very magnificently by Bartholomew O’Flanagan,
son of a worthy baron of this county, and was one of the finest in the
kingdom. In this island there is a house built by the Saint, to what
use is not known, but it is as large as a small chapel-of-ease. It’s of
great strength and cunning workmanship that may seem to stand for ever,
having no wood in it; the inside lined and the outside covered with large
flat hewn stone, walls and roof alike. On the east of this island runs
an arm of the Lough called in Irish Cumhang-Devenish, which is of use to
the inhabitants, viz, if cattle infected with murrain, black-leg, &c.,
be driven through the same, they are exempted from the same that season,
as is often experienced. The said waters run northwards for twelve hours
daily, and back again the same course for twelve hours more, to the
admiration of the many.

Some authors write this Lough Erne to have been formerly a spring well,
and being informed by their Druids or philosophers that the well would
overflow the country to the North Sea, for the prevention of which they
caused the well to be inclosed in a strong wall, and covered with a door
having a lock and key, signifying no danger while the door was secured;
but an unfortunate woman (as by them came more mischief to mankind)
opening the door for water, heard her child cry, and running to its
relief, forgot to secure the well, and ere she could return, she with
her house and family were drowned, and many houses more betwixt that
and Ballyshannon, and so continues a Lough unto this day. But how far
this may pass for a reality, I am not to aver--however, it is in the
ancient histories of the Irish. If true, it must be of a long standing,
seeing this Lough is frequently mentioned in our chronicles amongst the
ancientest of Loughs. Fintan calls it _Samhir_.”

We shall not, any more than our old author, “aver for the reality” of
this legend, which by the way is related of many other Irish lakes; but
we may remark, in passing, that the story would have more appearance of
“reality” if it had been told of Lough Gawna--or the Lake of the Calf--in
the county of Longford, which is the true source of the river Erne, of
which Lough Erne is but an expansion. At Lough Gawna, however, they tell
a different story, viz, that it was formed by a calf, which, emerging
from a well in its immediate vicinity, still called Tobar-Gawna, or
the Well of the Calf, was chased by its water till he entered the sea
at Ballyshannon. The expansion of the Samhir or Erne thus miraculously
formed, is no less than forty miles in extent from its north-west to
its south-east extremities, being the length of the whole county of
Fermanagh, through which it forms a great natural canal. Lough Erne,
however, properly consists of two lakes connected by a deep and winding
strait, of which the northern or lower is more than twenty miles in
length, and seven and a half miles in its greatest breadth, and the
southern or upper is twelve miles long by four and a half broad. Both
lakes are richly studded with islands, mostly wooded, and in many places
so thickly clustered together as to present the appearance of a country
accidentally flooded; but these islands are not so numerous as they are
stated to be by the old writer we have above quoted, or as popularly
believed, as accurate investigation has ascertained that their number
is but one hundred and ninety-nine, of which one hundred and nine are
situated in the lower lake, and ninety in the upper. But these are
in truth quite sufficient for picturesqueness, and it may be easily
conceived that two sheets of water so enriched, and encircled by shores
finely undulating, to a great extent richly wooded, and backed on most
points by mountains of considerable elevation, must possess the elements
of beauty to a remarkable degree; and the fact appears to be, that though
the Killarney and other mountain lakes in Ireland possess more grandeur
and sublimity of character, Lough Erne is not surpassed, or perhaps
equalled, by any for exquisite pastoral beauty. Perhaps, indeed, we
might add, that if it were further improved by planting and agricultural
improvements, it might justly claim the rank assigned to it by Mr Inglis,
that of “the most beautiful lake in the three kingdoms.”

Long anterior to the arrival of the English in Ireland, the beautiful
district on each side of Lough Erne, now constituting the county of
Fermanagh, was chiefly possessed by the powerful family of Maguire, from
the senior branch of which the chiefs of the territory were elected. This
territory, which was anciently known as “Maguire’s country,” was made
shire ground in the 11th of Elizabeth, by the name which it still bears;
but the family of its ancient chiefs still remained in possession till
the plantation of Ulster by James I., when the lands were transferred
to the English and Scottish undertakers, as they were called, with the
exception of two thousand acres, left as a support to Brian Maguire,
chief representative of the family. It is not for us to express any
opinion on the justice or expediency of this great confiscation, but
we may venture to remark, that it was a measure that could hardly have
appeared proper to those who were so deprived of their patrimony, or
that would have led to any other feeling than one of revenge and desire
of retaliation, however reckless, if opportunity ever offered. Unhappily
such opportunity did offer, by the breaking out of the great rebellion
of 1641, a rebellion originating chiefly with the families of the
disinherited Irish lords of the confiscated northern counties, and having
for its paramount object the repossession of their estates.

Amongst the English and Scottish settlers in Fermanagh, the most largely
endowed with lands was Sir John Humes, or Hume, the founder of Tully
Castle, the subject of our prefixed wood-cut, and who was the second son
of Patrick, the fifth Baron of Polwarth, in Scotland. The property thus
obtained, consisting of four thousand five hundred acres, remained in the
possession of his male descendants till the death of Sir Gustavus Hume,
who dying without surviving male issue in 1731, it passed through the
female line into the possession of the Loftus family, in which it now
remains.

The Castle of Tully was for a time the principal residence of the Hume
family; and on the breaking out of the rebellion in October 1641, it
became the refuge of a considerable number of the English and Scottish
settlers in the country. The discontented Irish of the county having,
however, collected themselves together under the command of Rory, the
brother of the Lord Maguire, they proceeded to the castle on the 24th
of December, and having commanded the Lady Hume and the other persons
within it to surrender, it was given up to them on a promise of quarter
for their lives, protection for their goods, and free liberty and safe
conduct to proceed either to Monea or Enniskillen, as they might choose.
But what trust can be placed in the promises of men engaged in civil war,
and excited by the demoniac feelings of revenge? With the exception of
the Lady Hume, and the individuals immediately belonging to her family,
the whole of the persons who had so surrendered, amounting to fifteen
men, and, as it is said, sixty women and children, were on the following
day stripped and deprived of their goods, and inhumanly massacred, when
also the castle was pillaged, burnt, and left in ruins. Let us pray that
Ireland may never again witness such frightful scenes!

The Castle of Tully does not appear to have been afterwards re-edified,
or used as a residence. After the restoration of peace, the Hume
family erected a more magnificent mansion, called Castle Hume, nearer
Enniskillen, and which is now incorporated in the demesne of Ely lodge.

In its general character, as exhibited in its ruins, Tully Castle appears
to have been a fortified residence of the usual class erected by the
first Scottish settlers in the country--a keep or castle turreted at the
angles, and surrounded by a bawn or outer wall, enclosing a court-yard.
It is thus described by Pynnar in 1618:

“Sir John Humes hath two thousand acres called Carrynroe.

Upon this proportion there is a bawne of lime and stone, an hundred
feet square, fourteen feet high, having four flankers for the defence.
There is also a fair strong castle fifty feet long and twenty-one feet
broad. He hath made a village near unto the bawne, in which is dwelling
twenty-four families.”

The Castle of Tully is situated on the south-western shore of the lower
lake of Lough Erne, about nine miles north-west of Enniskillen.

                                                                       P.




THE AMERICA LETTER.


“Arrah, Judy!” quoth Biddy Finnegan, running to a neighbour’s door.

“Arrah, why?” answered the party summoned.

“Arrah, did you hear the news?”

“No, then, what is it?”

“Sure there’s an Amerikey letter in the post-office.”

“Whisht!”

“Sorra a word of lie in it. Mickeen Dunn brought word from the town this
morning; and he says more betoken that it’s from Dinny M’Daniel to his
ould mother.”

“Oh, then, troth I’ll be bound that’s a lie, e’er-a-way: the born
vagabond, there wasn’t that much good in him, egg or bird: the idle,
worthless ruffian, that was the ruination of every one he kem near: the,
the----”

“Softly, Judith, softly; don’t wrong the absent: it is from Dinny
M’Daniel to his ould mother, and contains money moreover;” and she then
proceeded to tell how the postmistress had desired the poor widow to
bring some responsible person that might guarantee her identity, before
such a weighty affair was given into her keeping, for who knew what
might be inside of it? though a still greater puzzle was to discover
by what means the much reprobated Dinny obtained even the price of the
letter-paper; and how old Sibby had borrowed a cloak from one, and a
“clane cap” from another, and the huxter had harnessed his ass and car
to bring her in style, and Corney King the contingent man,[1] that knows
all the quality, was going along with her to certify that she was the
veritable Mrs Sybilla M’Daniel of Tullybawn; and how she would have for
an escort every man, woman, and child in the village that could make a
holiday--compliments cheerfully accorded by each and all, to do honour to
the America letter, and the individual whose superscription it bore.

Dinny M’Daniel was the widow’s one son, born even in her widowhood, for
his father had been killed by the fall of a tree before he had been
six months married, and poor Sibby had nothing to lavish her fondness
upon but her curly-headed gossoon, who very naturally grew up to be
the greatest scapegrace in the parish. He had the most unlucky knack
of throwing stones ever possessed by any wight for his sins; not a day
passed over his head without a list of damages and disasters being
furnished to his poor mother, in the shape of fowls killed and maimed,
and children half murdered, or pitchers and occasionally windows made
smithereens of; but to do him justice, his breakage in this latter
article was not very considerable, there being but few opportunities for
practice in Tullybawn. To all these the poor widow had but one reply,
“Arrah, what would you have me do?--sorra a bit of harm in him; it’s all
element, and what ’ud be the good of batin’ him?” At last the neighbours,
utterly worn out by the pertinacity of his misdemeanours, hit upon an
expedient to render him harmless for at least half the day, and enjoy
that much of their lives in peace, with the ultimate chance of perhaps
converting the parish nuisance into a useful character. A quarterly
subscription of a penny for each house would just suffice to send Dinny
to school to a neighbouring pedagogue, wonderful in the sciences of
reading and writing, and, what was a much greater recommendation under
the present circumstances, the “divil entirely at the taws.” To him
accordingly Dinny was sent, and under his discipline spent some five
or six years of comparative harmlessness, during which he mastered the
Reading-made-Easy, the Seven Champions, Don Bellianis, and sundry other
of those pleasing narratives whereby the pugnacity and gallantry of the
Irish character used whilom to be formed, to which acquirement he added
in process of time that of writing, or at least making pothooks and
hangers, with a symmetry that delighted the heart of poor Sibby. The
neighbours began to think better of him; but the “masther” swore he was
a prodigy, and openly declared, that if he would but “turn the Vosther,”
he’d be fit company for any lady in the land. Thus encouraged, Dinny
attempted and succeeded, for he had some talent. But sure enough the
turning of the Foster finished him.

It was now high time for Master Dinny to begin to earn his bread, and
accordingly his mother sought and obtained for him a place in the garden
of a nobleman who resided near the village, and was its landlord: but the
dismay of the gossoon himself when this disparaging piece of good fortune
was announced to him, was unbounded. He was speechless, and some moments
elapsed before he could ejaculate,

“Fwhy, then, tare-an’-ages, mother, is that what you lay out for me, an’
me afther turnin’ the Vosther?”

Sibby expostulated, but in vain; his exploits in