THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY From the collection James Collins, Druracondra, Ireland. Purchased, 1918. 27 J -91 «• M.H GILL & SON. DUBLIN MARY AIKENHEAD: HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. GIVING A HISTORY OF THE FOUNDATION OF THE CONGREGATION OF THE IRISH SISTERS OF CHARITY. By S. A. “ Being loath to neglect the memory of Gods friends, more glorious to a Realme than all the victories and triumphs of the world.” —Campion’s " Historie of Ireland.” Wflj |§0r;trats. DUBLIN: M. H. GILL & SON, 50 UPPER SACKVILLE STREET. LONDON: BURNS & OATES ; AND SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, & CO. 1879. [.All rights reserved .J PRINTED BY M. II. GILL AND SON, 50 UPPER SACKVILLE-STREET, DUBLIN. HE reverend superioress of the Sisters of Charity having kindly entrusted to me the Annals of the Congregation and many original documents and letters, I have compiled the memoirs of Mrs. Aikenhead, and the notices of the institutions which she and her successor founded, principally from these materials. While I gratefully acknowledge my obligations to the Mother-general for these sources of information, and for the considerate liberty which she allowed me in using them—a liberty which saved a great deal of embarrassment to a secular pen—I wish also to express my indebtedness to more than one of her religious children who afforded me no less valuable aid, by procuring information otherwise inaccessible to me, and by drawing for my advantage from their own stores of memory. Under these circumstances the work, originally under¬ taken as a labour of love, did not, in its progress, lose that character. There was not, indeed, much to do save to tell the story in all straightforwardness. Comments on the 480049 IV PREFACE. writer’s part would have been superfluous, or worse ; for, to use the words of St. Augustine, which I find at hand, thus rendered into English :—“ Did I wish to praise this morality, this life, this Order, this institute, I am not able to do so worthily; and I fear I should seem to consider that the thing as simply stated could not by itself be pleasing, were I to think that the buskin of the panegyrist should be added to the simplicity of the narrator.” S. A. Dublin, April ^ o, 1879. CONTENTS. -»- INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. Ireland’s Penal Days ...... gxwk I. CHAPTER I. Mary Aikenhead’s Birth—Parentage—Childhood ..... CHAPTER II. Maternal Ancestry—Ninety-eight—Dr. Aikenhead dies—Mary’s Conversion— Catholicity in Cork—General Society ...... CHAPTER III. Mary Aikenhead’s Friends—Her Daily Life—Religious Vocation . CHAPTER IV. Dublin after the Union—Catholic Life—Old Chapels—Daniel Murray—St. Clare’s Convent ........... CHAPTER V. The New Archbishop—The Veto—Father Kenny—Sisters of Charity for Ireland . §ooh II. CHAPTER I. Novitiate at York—Dr. Murray in Rome—Restoration of the Society of Jesus CHAPTER II. Return to Ireland—First Convent of the Sisters of Charity . ~r CHAPTER III. The Congregation Canonically erected—Rahan Lodge—Father St. Leger . CHAPTER IV. Second Foundation—Visitors from York—First Members of the Congregation CHAPTER V. Cork revisited—Convent established—Gardiner-street Schools—Sandymount CHAPTER VI. Cholera in Dublin and Cork—Rev. Mother invalided—Correspondence—Constitu¬ tions Confirmed ......... $00h in. CHAPTER I. Planning and Preparing—Joseph Michael O’Ferrall—Sisters go to France—St. Vincent’s Hospital—Daniel O’Connell . ..... CHAPTER II. PAGE I 71 80 95 112 125 141 152 162 177 189 203 ooy The Head Superior 244 VI CONTENTS. CHAPTER III. Friends, Acquaintances, and Poets PAGE 254 CHAPTER IV. Meetings—Partings—Every-day Life and Lessons .... 266 CHAPTER V. Donnybrook Castle—Waterford—Christian’s Narrative 281 CHAPTER VI. Australian Mission—Preston—Father Kenny’s Farewell—Clarinbridge 293 CHAPTER VII. A Chapter of Troubles ....... 306 CHAPTER VIII. Friends of the Heart and true Disciples—Mistress and Novice • 318 §aah IV. CHAPTER I. Our Lady’s Mount—Tipperary—Ruling by the Pen 331 CHAPTER II. Family Affairs—Public Events—Progress in Cork .... 349 CHAPTER III. The Great Old Mother—Death of Archbishop Murray 3/0 « CHAPTER IV. Model Schools—A Life-long Friend—Mother Catherine’s Last Days 390 CHAPTER V. News from St. Vincent’s—War-notes—Shades of Evening . O O CHAPTER VI. Benada Abbey ........ 413 CHAPTER VII. Death of Mrs. Aikenhead . . . . • . ' 425 SUPPLEMENT. The Congregation after Mrs. Aikenhead’s death .... 43i gpxiiftk. Confirmatio Instituti Societatis Sororum Charitatis in Hibernia The Houses of the Institute ..... 497 499 ILLUSTRATIONS. Mother Mary Augustine Aikenhead ..... Mary Aikenhead ........ Mrs. O’Brien ........ To face title. „ 107 „ 267 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. Ireland’s Penal Days. I. “ Men ask what scope is left for hope To one who has known her story:— I trust her dead! Their graves are red ; But their souls are with God in glory.” Inis fail. —Aubrey de Vere. O country has ever had so many beautiful and mystic names as the island whose eastern coast “ doth face wilde Cambres cliffes,” and whose western shores—for all their rampart line of towering headlands and mountains in multitudinous array—are broken into wide estuaries by the long roll of the Atlantic surge, or worn into tranquil havens by the spent-wave’s rise and fall. In poetic language it is at one time invested with ancestral dignity, and called the Ancient Land; while, again, every epithet proper to vigorous and immortal youth is bestowed upon it in turn. Fancy long ago associated the Western Isle with the glory of the sun-god, whose chariot sinks into the main of waters, not so far beyond, but that, posted on a beetling crag, you might hear the hissing of the fiery wheels . 1 The early colonists, first sighting their new home as a dense forest rising out of the illimitable sea, called it the Woody Isle. Long before the sons of Milesius, with sails full of the southern breeze, had reached the object of their adventurous ex¬ pedition, it received the name of Inisfail, or the Isle of Destiny. 'Poem ofHadrianus Junius, quoted by Camden. INTRODUCTION. 2 It was the Ierna of the Greeks, the Juverna of the Romans, the Sacred Isle of Druidic countries. Successive generations styled it the Noble Isle; called it Erie, after a Danan queen ; and Scota, after a Milesian princess. In bardic times it was the Land of Song; and for centuries it was distinguished throughout Christendom as the Island of Saints and Scholars. As time w ? ore on, however, there ceased to be any further bestowal of beautiful names ; the old ones lost their significance, or were uttered only in sad undertones. Vexed with internal sanguinary strife, ravaged by the Danes, devastated by the Anglo-Normans, there was little nobleness left then in the land. The w r oods were destroyed in the wars, or cut down to deprive “ the thieves and rogues ” (that is to say, the plundered natives) of the only shelter that had remained to them. The peaceful abode of saints was converted into the arena where hosts of martyrs suffered. In fine, the Erie of the Gaels became the Ireland of the English ; a heritage of woe was all that remained to her ; nought survived for national pride to feed on, save memories bitter¬ sweet, and some few cherished names. But then, memories have often in this land done service for hopes, and names have had power in them to defy the mailed hand and the coercive law. Such danger to the foreign interest lurked in the slogans of the Irish chieftains that an Act of Parliament was passed prohibiting the use of the words Shanet-abo , Crom-abo , and other “ cryes which do greatly savour of the Scythian barbarism.” Adven¬ turers, sitting down on the estates of the outlawed owners, and cogitating schemes for reducing the “ Wilde Irishe ” to civility, urgently recommended that all the O’s and Mac’s which the heads of septs had taken to their names should be utterly forbidden and extinguished. The Irish were commanded to give up their own names, and assume instead the name of some town, trade, colour, or office. Among the reproaches incurred by the degenerate English settlers, who took up with “that brutish nation,” the native race, preferring the manners and customs of the Irishry to the civility of their own countrymen (the “ introducers of all good things in Ireland ”) was this, that they forgot their country, and had quite shaken off their own names. Gradually the pride which the Gaels of Ireland had taken in the beauty, the sanctity, the scholarly renown of their native land, gave place to another sentiment—a feeling more personal and more intense. Their exultation changed to pity, and their national sympathies became transfigured into a devotion vowed to constancy and sorrow. Per¬ sonified as a woman beautiful and sad, the wolf-dog crouching at her feet, and the silent harp beside her, their country became associated in their thoughts with all they held most sacred—with their religious faith and with their family affections. “The Irish delight,” says Augustin Thierry, “ in regarding their country as a being capable of PENAL DAYS. 3 inspiring affection and reciprocating attachment. They love to address her without pronouncing her name, and to mingle with the austere and perilous devotion, of which she is the object, whatever is tenderestand happiest in the heart’s affections. Veiled beneath these cherished illusions, they conceal from themselves the reality of the danger to which the patriot is exposed, and beguile their soul with pleasurable fancies while awaiting the onslaught of battle : like those Spartan warriors, who wreathed their brow with flowers ere they marched out to perish at Thermopylae.” 1 During two centuries the bards, long renowned for their “ sweet inventions and most wittie layes,” employed their gift of song in the composition of poems, which, without the key that history affords, might pass for love songs pure and simple. But the passionate devotion vowed by the minstrel is dedicated, not to the fair daughters of Erie, but to the mourning motherland, which, under names of hidden significance, is apostrophised in glowing Gaelic verse:— “All day long, in unrest, To and fro do I move. The very soul within my breast Is wasted for you, love! The heart—in my bosom faints To think of you, my Queen, My life of life, my saint of saints, My Dark Rosaleen! My own Rosaleen! My life, my love, my saint of saints, My Dark Rosaleen ! See. “Woe and pain, pain and woe, Are my lot, night and noon, To see your bright face clouded so, Like to the mournful moon. But yet—will I rear your throne Again in golden sheen ; ’Tis you shall reign, shall reign alone, My Dark Rosaleen! My own Rosaleen, &c. “ Over dews, over sands, Will I fly, for your weal: Your holy, delicate white hands Shall girdle me with steel. At home—in your emerald bowers, From morning’s dawn till e’en, You’ll pray forme, my flower of flowers, My Dark Rosaleen! My own Rosaleen, &c. ‘ ‘ Oh! the Erne shall run red With redundance ofblood, The earth shall rock beneath our tread, And flames wrap hill and wood, i “ Dix ans d’Etudes Historiques.” 4 INTRODUCTION. And gun-peal, and slogan cry, Wake many a glen serene, Ere you shall fade, ere you shall die, My Dark Rosaleen ! My own Rosaleen! The Judgment Hour must first be nigh, Ere you can fade, ere you can die, My Dark Rosaleen !” 1 Erin’s worst enemies have often found it dangerous to meet her in this guise face to face, and, whether they would or would not, have been constrained to pay her respect, and to exchange the accents of vituperation for tones of gentler address. So was it with Edward Spenser. “ I doe much pity that sweet land,” he says, “ to be subject to so many evills as I see more and more to be layde upon her, and doe half beginne to thinke that it is her fatall misfortune, above all other countreyes that I know, to be thus miserably tossed and turmoyled with these variable stormes of affliction.” Finally came the midnight hour, so dark and drear that men almost gave up the hope of another morning. To the horrors of the day had succeeded the despondence of the night: even Dark Rosaleen’s lover had ceased his song. Yet some there were who would not let the torpor of despair steal over them : who stood firmly rooted in a trust for which they had no earthly warrant, and sleeplessly watched what they could not defend. With unerring instinct they apprehended signs devoid of import to the crowd, and listened for the throb of a heart which was broken but not stilled. As there were guardians in the night, so were there watchers in the cold gray morning. And these, gazing at the desolate plains, and lifting their eyes to the holy hills, saw a verdant mantle enfolding the ruins; a green carpet spreading over the graves ; the scarred and blood-stained surface brightening with the promise of a seed-field planted in sorrow. Mourners and lovers, they saw in the indestructible fertility of the soil the prophecy of a resurgence wonderful and near. Accepting the omen, their hearts grew strong in hope; and embodying in one word their faith and their desire, they gave to the country a new name: they called it the Green Island . 3 ■ Translated from the Irish by James Clarence Mangan. 2 Dr. Drennan, the poet of the United Irishmen, was the first who gave Ireland the title of the Emerald Isle. In his famous poem, beginning, “ When Erin first rose from the dark-swelling flood, God blessed the green island,” &c., and which was written in 1795 , he apostrophises the sons of green Erin in verses quoted day after day in various climes from that date to this. The term Emerald, or Green, immediately became associated with the name of this country, and he jealously guarded his claim to the original use of the epithet which describes, as he says, the prime natural beauty of the land, and its in¬ estimable value. In ancient Erin, as we read in Connellan’s edition of the “ Annals of the Four Masters,” p. 512 , green banners were not more in favour than those of other colours. The favourite colour was red, whence the country got the title of Ireland of the Red Banners. The Sun-Burst, or flag on which were represented the sun and its rays, was also PENAL DAYS. 5 The study of Irish history generally proves an ungrateful task to those who write, as well as to those who read its pages. One author notes the sad sameness of the narrative, another its weltering con¬ fusion. “The pages of Irish history,” says a great Englishman of our own day, “ have been stained with tears and blood.” 1 “ It is a long agony,” writes another, “ of which the only interest lies in its long- deferred close.” 2 And, truth to say, as a record of events during seven hundred years, nothing could be more harrowing, for there is little variety, except in the nature and intensity of the calamity that overwhelmed the nation at successive periods. The real interest lies where the chronicler hardly seeks for it: in the private story, so to speak, of the native population which resisted, and successfully, all the efforts that were made to exterminate it out of the land, or to crush it into an indistinguishable characterless mass. Survival under such circumstances is in itself astonishing. But the wonder increases when we see, for generation after generation, the forlorn hope going out to die; and again, for generation after generation, the ranks closing in to defy annihilation by sheer force of endurance ; and when, more than this, the Irish people are seen coming forth at last from the fiery ordeal with the loss of but few of their best characteristics, and with so much original vigour still remaining as perceptibly to affect social and political currents in other Irelands beyond the seas . 3 A journey through the by-paths of Irish history oftentimes better repays the trouble than a march along its well-worn highways; and a study of individual life affords betimes a truer insight than a register of death-struggles in battle-fields or parliaments. Sad though the tale may be it does not fail in human interest, while here and there it affords a clue to laby¬ rinths hitherto untracked, and lights up lengths of dreary records with signal fires that flash along the line. Anyhow it is necessary to cast a retrospective glance across the two centuries that precede our own era, if we would understand the revolution through which Ireland has been passing in these latter days. The significance of the fresh verdure of the green isle escapes obser¬ ved by the warriors of the Gael. Richard II. of England, as Mr. Gilbert tells us in his “ History of the Viceroys of Ireland,” p. 269, wishing to conciliate the native chiefs, laid aside the hostile banners of England, quartered with leopards and fleur-de-lis, and “substi¬ tuted flags, bearing a golden cross, on an azure ground, surrounded by five silver birds, said to have been the arms of his patron saint, Edward the Confessor. The Irish are repre¬ sented to have held in reverence the memory of the ‘ Confessor,’ whose queen, Edith, was sister to Driella, wife ofDonagh O’Brien, King of Munster.” The first regularised corps that carried the green flag was, if we mistake not, the Irish Legion, organised by Napoleon in 1803, and which alone of the foreign regiments was entrusted with the eagle of France. The green banner borne by the Irish Legion had on it a representation of a harp without a crown. During the late American war the green banners of the Irish Brigades were borne with honour through many a sanguinary and historic day. 1 Mr. John Bright. 2 Mr. Goldwin Smith, late Professor of History at Oxford. 3 “A nation,” says Edmund Burke, “ is a moral essence, not a geographical description.” 6 INTRODUCTION. vation, unless the nature and previous condition of the soil are borne in mind. From the arrival of Henry II. to the reign of Elizabeth it has been truly said the country had not enjoyed seven years of tranquillity at any one period ; and for forty years of that queen’s reign a terrific war had been raging in Ireland. True, the war of the Desmonds had ended in the subjugation of Munster, and the fertile lands of the South had been confiscated to the Crown. The native population were systematically starved out, and when that process proved too slow, men, women, and children were driven into buildings, which were then set on fire, so that “ in a short space there were none almost left, and a most populous and plentifull countrey suddenly left voyde of man and beast.” Circular letters were addressed to families in every part of England, inviting younger sons to undertake the plantation of Desmond, and promising to the new settlers large grants of land, on condition that no Irish should be allowed to dwell within their bounds . 1 By-and-by Tyrone’s rebellion in the North assumed a still more formidable character ; the South was in commotion again ; and there was no peace in any corner of the land. War-tried generals at the head of the finest army in Europe were despatched to Ireland ; and sums of money, far exceeding the revenue of England at that time, and equal in value to about thirty millions sterling of our circulation, were expended in the effort to crush rebellion, root out the Catholic religion, and trample the Irishry into the dust. Hard was the task, and bitterly did the Earl of Essex, when charged with the conduct of the enter¬ prise, lament his “ banishment and prescription to the cursedest of all islands.” The rebels were “so many and so framed to be soldiers,” as he said, when writing to the queen, “ that the war of force would be great, costly, and long.” How dear the failure cost the favourite, history tells. Others succeeded better. When slaughtering in the field was not practicable, the governors of the queen’s strongholds issued forth, as opportunity served, to lay waste the adjoining lands, and burn the towns and castles in which the native population had taken refuge. At length the country was reduced to so dreadful a condition, that her majesty was assured that little was left for her to reign over in Ireland but carcasses and ashes. The queen stormed, and swore her royal father’s favourite oaths ; but Tyrone, that “ ungrateful viper,” would not submit ; the earl would not even ask for terms. Tired of a long and expensive contest, the statesmen of England desired to offer honourable conditions to the enemy; but Elizabeth was by this time as impracticable as O’Neill himself. “ Her majesty,” says one who knew the feeling of the court, “has a prejudice in her own thoughts that he would insult her 1 For an account of the Munster undertakers, and the grants they obtained, see D’Arcy M‘Gee’s “ History of Ireland,” vol. ii. PENAL DAYS. 7 when it came to the upshot, and so her opening herself by offer of a pardon would return unto her a double scorn.” The question was finally decided by the death of the queen, whose last days were spent raving of Essex and fuming over the Irish war. Orders were sent to the Lord Deputy to keep the event secret in Ireland, and make peace at once with the Earl of Tyrone. Advantageous and honourable con¬ ditions were proposed, and O’Neill, arriving at the castle of Mellifont, made submission to Lord Mountjoy, little suspecting that he bent his knee to the representative of a sovereign whom death had already discrowned, and summoned into the presence of the Eternal Judge. By one of the Articles of Mellifont, the free exercise of their religion was guaranteed to the Irish. No such liberty, however, was tasted by them, even experimentally. One of the first acts of James I. was to order a gaol delivery in Ireland,from which murderers and papists were specially excluded. The “ priests were banished, and severe penalties inflicted on such as should harbour or entertain them. All Catholics were obliged to assist at the Protestant church service every Sunday and holiday; and those who had been called ‘ imps of Anti¬ christ/ &c., for listening to a Latin Mass, which they did not under¬ stand, were now forced to listen to an English liturgy, which they, being Irish, understood quite as little.” 1 Those who had neglected to appear at church were condemned to pay a fine of one shilling on each occasion ; the collectors exacted ten shillings more under the head of fees, and the taxation of recusant papists became a source of considerable revenue to the extortionate officials. This attempt to hunt the poor Irish to church was followed by a more gigantic and successful essay to sweep them from off the land. James’s favourite scheme was to do for the northern province what had been done, only in an inferior degree, for Munster. Lie accom¬ plished what is generally called the Plantation of Ulster, d he ancient proprietors were dispossessed, and a new race of landowners was created. The Protestant Primate was endowed with 43,000 acres ; the Dublin University received a grant of 30,000 acres; the lord deputy, Sir Arthur Chichester, who planned and carried out the enter¬ prise, was rewarded with a chieftain’s patrimony ; a host of Scottish settlers obtained lots varying in extent from 1,000 to 2,000 acres; and the London companies—the guilds of skinners, tanners, and other trades—were constituted legal owners of close on 300,000 acres in the six northern counties. 2 Wholesale spoliation, however, was not 1 “ Memoirs of Captain Rock.” 2 The Rev. George Hill, the chronicler of this chapter of Irish history, sums up the sad narra¬ tive in the following words:—“ But the paradise of plenty if not of peace to which these stran¬ gers at times attained was only secured by a very heavy and dreadful sacrifice of the interests of Ireland as a nation ; for to this settlement in Ulster may be traced the awful scenes and events of the ten years’ civil war commencing in 1641, the horrors of the revolutionary struggle in 1690, and the re-awakening of these horrors in 1798. The dragon’s teeth, so plentifully 8 INTRODUCTION. confined to Ulster. In Wicklow, the ancient sept of the O’Byrnes were dispossessed under circumstances of exceptional atrocity; the O’Farrells were robbed of estates, including the county of Longford ; flaws in titles were discovered by professional experts, and choice portions of Wexford, of the King’s County, and of the Queen’s County were seized for the Crown. Imagination can hardly conceive the excess of misery thus entailed on a people so sensitive as the Irish to local associations, and so passionately attached to their homes. In a memorial presented to the Government of that day it is stated that many of the ejected landowners lost their reason in their inability to support so terrible a misfortune ; and that others, when they felt the approach of death, caused some of their friends to bring them out of their beds to have abroad the sight of the hills and fields they lost in the said plantation. 1 Many of the nobility and gentry whose lands had been taken from them got off to the Continent, and offered their swords to the Catholic sovereigns. The reputation of the Irish soldiers stood high in foreign states, the services of the exiles were willingly accepted, and some of the expatriated chiefs returned before long to Ireland to enlist a large force for the King of Spain, who was at that time forming an Irish legion. James, well pleased to clear the country of so many native swordsmen, granted leave for the levies to be made; while his Irish subjects, equally anxious to escape from the paternal rule, gladly enlisted in the army of his most Catholic majesty. On this occasion, as we are told, great terror was excited in the Pale by the assembling of bands of Irishmen, preparatory to their embarkation, under the sons of their ancient chieftains, then acknowledging allegiance to a foreign king. 2 Those who could not get away from a place which had, indeed, been made for them an island of evil destiny, were now decimated by a pestilence which succeeded the scarcity caused by the destruction of the crops in the late war. So that the multitude, to quote the words of the then Attorney-General, Sir John Davies, were '‘brayed, as it were, in a mortar with sword, famine, and pestilence together,” and it was looked on as impossible that the Irish could ever again rise up in rebellion. There still remained, however, a field for spoliation on an exten¬ sive scale in the province of Connaught, whose warlike population, led on by the descendants of the Milesian princes and the representa¬ tives of the old English settlers, had made a last desperate struggle sown in this Ulster Plantation, have, indeed sprung up at times with more than usually abundant growth, yielding their ghastly harvests of blood and death on almost every plain, and by almost every river-side, and in almost every glen of our northern province.—“His¬ torical Account of the Plantation of Ulster,’’ p. 590. 1 See Mr. Prendergast’s “Cromwellian Settlement of Ireland,” 2nd edition, p. 47. 1 2 See Mr. Haverty’s “ History of Ireland,” pp. 514, 515, in which original papers of great nterest in connexion with this subject are quoted. PENAL DAYS. 9 1 to preserve their religion and their independence, and were, in fact, only recently subdued. A fair beginning was accordingly made by James I., in planting west of the Shannon ; and some families were brought over from England and settled on choice domains which once had been abbeylands, the patrimony of native chiefs, or the estates of old English grantees. Death, however, put an end to the king’s progress in this work of predilection, and Connaught enjoyed a respite, until, in the succeeding reign, Lord Deputy Wentworth undertook to raise money in the West, and to found there “ a noble English plantation.” A commission was appointed to inquire into defective titles, with a view of establishing the right of King Charles I. to every estate in Connaught. Cases of inquiry were brought before a jury who had been duly informed of the decision they were to arrive at, and of the severe penalties that would be inflicted in the event of any hesitancy, or obscureness of judicial vision on their part. Under these circumstances, the king’s title to the whole of Mayo, Sligo, Ros¬ common, and Connaught generally, was satisfactorily established. The speculation turned out a lucrative one, for the proprietors paid large sums of money into the king’s exchequer for the privilege of holding their own lands under new patents from the Crown. Here and there jurors did hold out, and refused to lend their sanction to the spoliation. But this, too, was turned to profitable account under Lord Wentworth’s management. Some Galway gentlemen, having proved refractory as jurors, were summoned to the Castle of Dublin, and fined £4,000 each, while the High Sheriff of the county, being unable to pay the fine, was thrown into prison, and died in bonds. 1 Other means were resorted to for supplying the royal treasury from Ireland. No landowner in the country was allowed to feel his right secure. The Earl of Ormond was glad to compound for a portion of his estates. The Earl of Kildare was sent to prison for refusing a similar composition. The Earl of Cork was compelled to pay a heavy fine for his intrusion into lands originally granted to the Church. Not even the Ulster planters were safe ; the London com¬ panies paid no less than £70,000 for liberty to hold their Derry estates. 2 Cajoled into the belief that in the event of their supporting the king with liberal subsidies of men and money, liberty of worship and other favours would be granted to them, the Catholics voted supplies with such promptness and profusion that the lord deputy could not conceal his astonishment. Thousands of pounds were transferred to the exhausted exchequer, but the expected “ graces ” were never enjoyed by the subjects of the faithless king. 1 “ They (refractory jurors in general) were censured in the Castle chamber in great fines ; sometimes pilloried, with loss of ears, and bored through the tongue, and sometimes marked in the forehead with a hot iron, and other infamous punishments.”—“ Commons Journals” vol. i., p. 307. See also Lingard’s “ History of England,” vol. vii., ch. v. 2 D’Arcy M‘Gee’s “ History of Ireland,” vol. ii. IO INTRODUCTION. Notwithstanding the extraordinary efforts that had been made to bring about the pacification of Ireland, the country was not tranquil- lised. Neither the beggared gentry nor their children ever became reconciled to the new order of things ; nor were the rneaner people content to see aliens in race, language, and religion, take the place of their ancient chieftains. In 1641, broke out the great rebellion, and for eleven years the island was literally “ one great battle-field and scene of slaughter.” All the horrors of the Elizabethan wars were renewed. Together with arms and military stores, scythes and reap¬ ing-hooks were provided for the troops, that the soldiers might cut down the standing corn, and starve the Irish into submission. Towns, villages, and the peasants’ huts were given up to the flames, and Sir Charles Coote’s men had orders to slay the population indiscriminately, and to spare no infants above a span long. The tumultuous mustering of the ancient Irish, the old English, the new settlers, the confederates, the Duke of Ormond’s men ; and the ever-changing combinations and dissolutions of these several parties, together with the massacres and reprisals which were of everyday occurrence, form an historical phantasmagoria terrible and bewildering : into which a ghastly order was introduced by the appearance on the scene of Oliver Cromwell, Commander-in-Chief of the Parliamentary forces. Drogheda, Wexford, and Callan, having been made the scene of hideous massacres, and the whole country over-run and wasted, Cromwell, who was by that time Lord Protector, undertook the final settlement of Ireland, in accordance with a plan which, for compre¬ hensiveness and boldness, cast all previous schemes into the shade. Classed under general heads, the design was simple enough. The military men were to be cleared out of the country ; by killing or driving into exile all ecclesiastics, the Catholic religion was to be destroyed ; the remnant of the nobility and gentry, hunted into a wasted region enclosed between the Shannon and the sea, were to be reduced by poverty and hardship to the peasant class; as many of the young and vigorous Irish as could possibly be shipped off, were to be transported to the West India islands. And the country thus cleared was to be planted with the English adventurers who had advanced money to carry on the war, and the soldiers of the Commonwealth to whom large arrears of pay were owing. Cromwell, on the defeat of the Irish army, as we read in Mr. Prendergast’s “ Cromwellian Settlement,” had hoped to get the prin¬ cipal commanders delivered into his hands, and a price, varying from £200 to £500, was set on the head of every field officer, in the expec¬ tation that the common soldiers would seize so good an opportunity of enriching themselves. No one did so, however; the heads were not brought to the authorities; and, the attempt having failed, the out¬ standing corps were allowed to transport themselves to other countries PENAL DAYS. I 1 or to engage in the service of any state in amity with the Common¬ wealth. Agents of the foreign pow r ers — many of them Irish gentle¬ men holding high rank in the armies of the Catholic sovereigns— passed over into Ireland to enlist the disbanded troops, and found no difficulty in rallying the men around their standard. Early in 1653, as the historian of this period furthermore tells us, Don Ricardo White shipped off from the southern and western ports 7,000 men for the King of Spain ; and later in the same year, Colonel Christopher Mayo took away 3,000 more for the same service ; Lord Muskerry took 5,000 to the King of Poland ; Colonel Edward Dwyer went with 3,500 to serve under the Prince of Conde. 1 Many other levies were made, and the ports were crowded with these military exiles waiting for ships to bear them away from their country, their families, and their friends. The officers thought to take with them the wolf-dogs that followed at their heels, but the tide-waiters had orders to seize the dogs and send them to the public huntsman, for, since the desolation of the country, the wolves had greatly increased in number, and w r ere invading the precincts of the towns. 2 “ Thus, says Sir William Petty, “ the chiefest and eminentest of the nobility and many of the gentry have taken conditions from the King of Spain, and have transported 40,000 of the most active spirited men, most acquainted with the dangers and discipline of war.” Multitudes of women and children were, on the departure of the swordsmen, left without provision or protection. They were not, how¬ ever, long suffered to cumber their native soil. Slaves were wanted for the sugar plantations in the island of Barbadoes, which, after being wasted by the Spaniards, had fallen into the possession of the English. Contracts were entered into with the Bristol sugar merchants, who sent over agents to take into their charge prisoners of war, offenders in custody, women, orphans, and such as had no visible means of livelihood. Orders were issued to the local authorities to deliver up to these agents such persons as were thus specified ; and each batch, on being mustered, was driven down to the seaports to be put on board the vessels sent round from Bristol to take them off. One of these contracts was for the supply to an English company of 250 women of the Irish nation between the age of twelve and forty-five years, and of 300 men above twelve years of age and under fifty ; and the agents were officially informed that the required number would easily be got in the county of Cork alone. From Galway 1,000 boys and an equal number of girls were shipped in one batch to Jamaica; “ We could well spare them,” writes Henry Cromwell, Major-General of the Forces in Ireland, in a letter to his father, the Lord Protector, “ and who knows but it might be a means of making them Englishmen—I 1 “ Cromwellian Settlement,” p. 8". 3 Ibid., p. 309. 12 INTRODUCTION. mean Christians ?” Mr. Prendergast, in noticing these facts, states that 6,400 of the Irish youth were at that time deported to the sugar plantations. He does not give the total number of the transported, which other authorities variously state up to and even beyond 60,000. During four years the Bristol agents were let loose on Ireland, and the work might have been carried on for a still longer period had it not been discovered that the slave dealers, sometimes forgetting the tenor of the bond, kidnapped the children, and enticed or forced on board the women, of the new English colony. A vast number of the transported perished on the outward voyage, many survived but a short time after they were landed in the West India islands ; still there remained long years after, scattered among the slave population, the descendants of Cromwell’s deported victims, preserving the language, and even the music, of their forefathers’ native land. 1 The next step was to extirpate the Catholic religion by getting rid of the priests, who, notwithstanding the severity of the laws in force against them, were to be found in every part of Ireland. 2 All ecclesiastics were ordered to depart from the kingdom within twenty days. If any returned they should be hanged, drawn, and quartered. Masters of ships leaving Ireland were commanded to take on board such as should offer themselves. The swordsmen leaving for Spain got leave to take with them “ priests, Jesuits, and other persons in Popish ordersand instructions were given to the governors of gaols to deliver up to the officers on shipboard such ecclesiastics as were in their custody. Many thus got safely away, but a great number remained. Hid in the bogs, wandering in the moun¬ tains, concealed in cellars or under the tiles of houses, they were still within reach of the scattered flock who made their way to the knees of the hunted priests to be strengthened with the sacraments, taught, and consoled. Oftentimes assuming strange disguises, priests took up their abode in the very midst of their persecutors. Members of the religious orders were to be met with in the garb of shepherds or ploughmen. One of the Capuchins took a situation as gardener to the chief Protestant in Waterford and freely went about the city, some- 1 “ The first Irish people who found permanent homes in America were certain Catholic patriots banished by Oliver Cromwell to Barbadoes in 1649. ... In this island, as in the neighbouring Montserat, the Celtic language was commonly spoken in the last century, and, perhaps, it is attributable to this early Irish colonisation that Barbadoes became one of the most populous islands in the world. At the end of the seventeenth century it was reported to contain 20,000 white inhabitants.”—D’Arcy M'Gee’s “ Irish Settlers in America.” 2 What Spenser said of the priests of his day might with at least equal justice be said of their successors in Cromwell’s time. “ A great wonder to see the oddes which is between the zeale of the Popish priests and the ministers of the Gospell: for they spare not to come out of Spaine, from Rome, and from Remes, by long toyle, and dangerous travayling hither, where they knowe perillof death awayteth them, and no reward or richess is to be found only to draw the people into the Church of Rome.”—“ View of the State of Ireland.’ PENAL DAYS. *3 times acting as coalporter at the quay. Another priest used to pass the enemy's guards in the guise of a peasant carrying country pro¬ duce to market. Father Thomas Fitzgerald, a Dominican, dressed himself as a peasant and served the Catholics of Cork during the entire period of Cromwell’s usurpation. Father Ford, a Jesuit, took up his abode in a dry spot in the middle of a bog and taught school : his pupils dwelling near him in huts which they built on the little island, where they were as safe as if they were afloat in the ocean ; for nothing baffled the troopers so effectually as the bogs, into which the horsemen dared not venture, and through which the Irish could safely travel, treading lightly by ways known only to themselves. Seeing that the priests still lingered, and that the people would not give them up, the Government resolved to take further measures for their apprehension. It was, therefore, enacted that anyone who neglected to take a priest into custody should be flogged, have his ears cut off, and be cast into prison ; while any person who kept up a correspondence or friendship with a priest should suffer death. Five pounds reward was offered for lodging a priest in gaol. The latter provision was looked on as a godsend by the soldiers, who, since the termination of the war, had more time on their hands than they knew what to do with, and were straitened for money while awaiting the pay¬ ment of their arrears. Turning their attention, therefore, to the less warlike pursuit of priest-hunting, they soon filled the prisons with captives; and disbursements on account of the discovery and appre¬ hension of Popish priests became a heavy item of Government ex¬ penditure. Martial law being the only law in vogue, the troopers could enter private houses and go wheresoever they would. They hired spies to give them notice where a quarry might be run down, and they clubbed together to share the dangers of the chase and the profits of the capture. When they succeeded in arresting the har- bourer of a priest, as well as the minister of God himself, it was an additional piece of good luck ; for they could claim a share of the forfeited possessions of the owner of the house in which the seizure was made. Nor were the officers in any way reluctant to profit by the same opportunity. Mr. Prendergast, who has had under his eye the Treasury orders of that period, notices many instances : among others the case of a captain who claimed the 'reward for arresting a priest with all his appurtenances and having him brought to Dublin together with the man in whose house he was discovered ; and that of an officer who, with his soldiers, laid claim to the goods of five gentle¬ men who maintained against them a castle in the county of Meath in defence and rescue of a priest supposed to have repaired thither to say Mass. 1 The gaols being now filled to overflowing, it became 1 “ Cromwellian Settlement,” p. 322. 14 INTRODUCTION. necessary to thin the prison population. Some of the priests were publicly executed, others were privately butchered or left to starve in the cells : many, to use Cromwell’s own words, were u knocked in the head promiscuously.” But the greater number were ordered for re¬ moval to the seaports, to be shipped off for Barbadoes. In three years more than 300 ecclesiastics, three bishops among the number, suffered death by the sword or on the scaffold ; and more than 1,000, including all the surviving bishops but one (the bedridden bishop of Kilmore), were sent into exile. After a time, owing to remonstrances made by Catholic princes on the Continent, priests were no longer put to death in Ireland; and for some reason or another transportation to Barbadoes was not again resorted to in their case. Those who were arrested and delivered up to the authorities during the concluding years of the Commonwealth were carried out to islands off West Connaught prepared for their reception. Many of these sufferers had assigned to them as their prison the island of Boffin, lying off Ballinakill, in the county of Mayo, where still stood the ruins of a monastery founded, according to the Venerable Bede, by St. Colman in the seventh century. The island had surrendered to the Parliamentary forces, and was now strongly fortified, having a citadel on which large guns were mounted. Colonel John Honnor was appointed governor, and it was recom¬ mended u to exclude all ill-affected Irish out of that island,” and to send “ an able, pious, and orthodox minister of the Gospell to be settled at Bofin.” 1 Others were conveyed to the islands of Arran, thirty miles west of Galway ; and, dwelling in huts close by the cyclopean duns of pagan times, and in the midst of the primitive churches and bee-hive dwellings of the early Christian solitaries, were consigned to the mercy of the Puritan soldiers who garrisoned “ a citadell in the usurper Cromwell’s time erected.” The banished priests now took the place of the ancient hermits; and there was a fitness in this, that “Arran of the Saints”—where Columba had sojourned, and Enda had dwelt, and Fridian had studied, and Brendan had gone on pil¬ grimage—should be the prison of these confessors of the Faith. Great consolation was vouchsafed them, no doubt, in the remembrance of their holy predecessors ; they praised God in the ocean solitude, and made their prayer, undisturbed, save by the screaming of the sea¬ birds and the rush of the breakers thundering upon the cliffs. So much having been accomplished—the swordsmen exiled, the priests transported, young men and maidens sold into slavery—there still remained an important part of the general plan to be executed. This was the seizure of lands still remaining in the possession of the native race, and of the old English of Ireland, and the removal of the 1 Dr. Hardiman's notes to “ O’FIahertv’s West Connaught,” pp. 116, 294. PENAL DAYS. 15 owners to that part of the kingdom over which devastation had swept with most terrific violence. Some of the military chiefs, married men with families, had not gone abroad on the break-up of the Irish army, but remained at home tilling the fields as tenants which once they had owned as lords. Several families of English descent who had taken no part in the late rebellion, or who, perhaps, had signalised their attachment to the Government in a more direct way, still remained on their estates suspecting no danger. But now these too were doomed to suffer in the general overturn. Their estates and their farms were wanted to satisfy the claims of the adventurers and the soldiers, and it was resolved that their Popish principles should not be allovred to contaminate the air in the neighbourhood of the covenanting planters. It was of no avail to plead their English origin. Catholics they cer¬ tainly were; and the Lord Protector was determined to make them Irish too, by community of suffering with the ancient race. Without difficulty a law was passed to meet this exigency; and on the 16th September, 1653, a proclamation was issued commanding the Catholic inhabitants of the transplantable class (which was made to include nearly every soul above the peasant rank) to remove to Connaught with their wives, and children, and servants, and cattle, before the 1st May following ; after which date any such man, woman, or child found in any other part of the kingdom might be shot by those w T ho met them. The province destined for the grave of the Irish Catholics had been fitly prepared for them by the bloody passage of Sir Richard Bingham, and the havoc of the younger Sir Charles Coote. For the most part it w T as a wilderness of desert fields and roofless houses : the scant population having been reduced by war and famine to a condi¬ tion too horrible to be here described. Some parts that had escaped the general devastation were marked off for English families to plant on ; and the Clanricarde estate of 6,000 acres at Portumna was reserved for Lord Henry Cromwell. The towns were held exclu¬ sively for the Puritan settlers, and a belt, varying from one mile to four miles wide, along the sea-shore and the right bank of the Shannon, was apportioned to the soldiery ; forts and garrisons were •established on the borders ; so that the territory, surrounded as it was by w'ater, except for a line of about ten miles, formed the most secure and dreary penal colony that could well be imagined. Orders w r ere issued that fathers and heads of families should pro¬ ceed, before the 30th January, 1654, to Athlone or to Loughrea, where sat the Government Commissioners, 1 w r hose business it was to assign 1 “ The Government was administered in the name of the Parliament of England by Com¬ missioners, called “ Commissioners of the Parliament of England for the Affairs of Ireland,” formed into a Council Board consisting of the Lord Deputy and the other Commissioners with powers over the Irish almost unlimited. Their orders, declarations, and proclama¬ tions seem to have had the force of law. The Council Board sat ordinarily at Cork House, i6 INTRODUCTION. them lands competent to the stock possessed by them, and by the tenants and friends who were to transplant with them—care being taken that such lands should not be within five miles of any town. 1 “ They were to build huts against the arrival of their wives and families, who were to follow on the ist May. The Commissioners were to be guided by a statement, or particular, which each pro¬ prietor, before leaving home, was to present to the revenue officer of the precinct for his certificate. It set forth the abode, names, ages, stature, colour of the hair, and other marks of distinction of the transplanter and his family, and of all his tenants and friends who were to accompany him into Connaught, together with the number of their cattle, quantity and quality of tillage and other substance. From the gray-haired sire of seventy to the blue-eyed daughter of four years old, the family portraiture is given in these transplanters’ certi¬ ficates. Sometimes there is a long list of tenants and friends, and sheep and cattle, accompanying the chief proprietor of the district into exile, like the pictures of the descent of the Israelites into Egypt. In others a landlord, who, perhaps, had rendered himself distasteful to his tenants, had none to accompany him ; for tenants were not re¬ quired to adhere to their landlord; they might sit down in Connaught as tenants under the State.”” Thus, in Mr. Prendergast’s vivid pages we see sadly journeying to their exile in the West the Talbots of Malahide, Lord Trimleston of Meath, Walter Cheevers, the owner of a castle and large estate at Monkstown, Lord Dunboyne from Tipperary, Dame Katherine Morris of the same county, Lady Mary Hamerton of Roscrea, Lady Fitz¬ gerald from her castle on the Boyne, Viscount Ikerrin of Lismalin Park, Lord Roche of Fermoy, and a host of others. The immediate ancestors of some of the transplanted gentry had been conspicuous for their zeal in crushing the Irish in former rebellions. The father of one of the transplanted lords was described as “ an emblem of English fidelity;” and a certain William Spenser, now ordered as an Irish Papist to remove from Cork to Connaught, was the grandson of the Edmund Spenser who, a settler on the lands of the Earl of Desmond, or the Castle of Dublin, but made occasional tours, and sat more than once at Kilkenny and Athlone. . . . Besides the daily routine of every Government, the Commissioners had the regulation of the setting down of the soldiers as planters, and were required to arrange and settle the differences between the several regiments and companies in their disputes concerning lands, and those which arose between the soldiers and adventurers who were joint settlers with the soldiery. They had also to effect the transplantation of the Irish into Connaught, and to answer all the petitions of the Irish.”—“Tenth Report of the Deputy Keeper of the Public Records in Ireland,” p. 25. 1 All husbandmen and others of the inferior sort, not possessed of lands or goods ex¬ ceeding the value of £ 1 o, were to have a free pardon, on condition, also, of transporting themselves across the Shannon.— D’Arcy M'Gee’s “ History of Ireland,” vol. ii. 2 “ Cromwellian Settlement,” p. 104. PENAL DAYS. l 7 drew the inspiration for his Faery Queen from the lovely scenery round Kilcolman Castle, but felt so little for the unspeakable misery of the Irish, whose sufferings he witnessed, as to hope that by a hard restraint, the destruction of the crops, and so forth, they might be reduced to such a condition that "they would quickly consume and devour one another.” Resolutely though the Government was bent on carrying these orders into execution, transplanting was discovered to be a work of peculiar difficulty. Petitions poured in from all sides. An aged noble¬ man pleads that he is too weak to travel on foot to Connaught; women and children, ordered to proceed westward, as being the widows and orphans of transplantable persons, crave exemption ; the owner of Luttrelstown, who once had given proof of his strong attachment to the English interest, begs a respite up to a certain date, that he may occupy the stables of his own mansion, and till his own fields ; John Talbot asks leave to return to his castle at Malahide to dispose of his corn and other goods. So strict was the imprisonment in Connaught, that Lord Trimleston, and others who might have occasion to pass to the Leinster side of the Shannon, could not cross the bridge of Athlone without a special order. The difficulty, therefore, was not in keeping imprisoned those who were already within the cordon, but in driving westward the multitude who still lingered near their old homes. "The Irish choose death rather than remove from their former habitations,” says a cotemporary, "but the State is resolved to see it done.” To invoke the aid of heaven in this distressing crisis, Government ordered a general fast, and then proceeded to take vigorous measures for the discovery and arrest of transplantable persons. Courts-martial were appointed to try the laggards, some of whom were transported to the West Indies for not having taken their way to Connaught; and some were despatched to the other world for a similar offence. In Kilkenny, two men w r ere condemned for this crime, "which makes the rest to hasten” observes the chronicler. A court-martial, sitting in St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Dublin, sentenced a gentleman to be hanged with placards on his breast and back announcing that he forfeited his life "for not transplanting.” 1 Meanwhile, the state of things in Connaught was quite indescrib¬ able when the Irish from the other provinces had been driven into the wilderness, where the commissioners were holding their court and the Puritan soldiery mounting guard over the Romish idolators. " With famine and pestilence, despair seized upon the afflicted natives ; thou¬ sands died of starvation and disease ; others cast themselves from precipices, whilst the walking spectres that remained seemed to 1 These sad petitions, and still more moving incidents, are to be found in “The Crom¬ wellian Settlement.” 3 1 8 INTRODUCTION. indicate that the whole plantation was nothing more than a mighty •sepulchre.” 1 While the three favoured provinces were being cleared of the Irish gentry and husbandmen, the cities and towns were undergoing a course of purification by the banishment of their Catholic merchants, traders, and artizans. Most of the sufferers in this instance, also, were the descendants of the settlers who had oftentimes stoutly held those garrisons against the “ Irish enemy.’' They had now in their turn to depart; and to render their settling near the towns impossible, all dwellings within two miles of the walls were thrown down. So thoroughly was the clearance system carried out, that the new in¬ habitants found their town-quarters a lonesome and inconvenient residence. Hewers of wood and drawers of water were so badly wanted by the strangers, that Government was worried with petitions, praying that Irish artizans and labourers might be allowed to remain ; while at the same time many of the poor natives, glad to cling to the old neighbourhood, were hid away by the new comers, who had furthermore to beseech the authorities to permit the Irish doctors to remain undisturbed. In Galway no Catholics were left but the sick and bed-ridden, who, however, were ordered to follow the rest without much delay. There was only one Papist, it is said, left in Dublin in 1651, and he was described as “ a chirurgeon, a peaceable man.” Famine and the plague carried on a hideous clearance of their own throughout the country; numbers perished in the ditches ; and “the bodies of many wandering orphans, whose fathers had gone to Spain, and whose mothers had died of famine, were preyed upon by wolves.” “You might travel twenty or thirty miles,” says an eye-witness, “and not see a living creature.” It was computed that there perished or disappeared in those years by the sword, and by famine, hardship, and banishment, no fewer than 50,000 of the native race ; while the damage done to both parties was estimated by Sir William Petty at £37,000,000 sterling. Lord Clarendon was of opinion that the sufferings of the Irish from the Puritans had never been surpassed, except by those of the Jews in their destruction by Titus. The aspect of the country was a reflex of the desolation that afflicted its inhabitants. Owing to the demolition of the woods, not even enough firing was left in some parts. Boate, describing the face of the country in that day, says that in some parts you might travel whole days long without seeing any woods or trees, except a few about gentlemen’s houses. “The great woods,” he adds, “which the maps do represent to us upon the mountains between Dundalke and the Nurie, are quite vanished, their being nothing left of them these many yeares since but one only tree, standing close by the highway, at the very top of one of the mountains, so as it 1 Dr. Moran’s “Life of Archbishop Plunket.” Intro., p. 53. PENAL DAYS. 19 may be seen a great way off, and therefore serveth travellers for a mark.” 1 When, therefore, the adventurers and soldiers came to take pos¬ session of the lands allotted to them, they found a solitude, indeed, but no paradise. Cromwell’s troops, who had been unwilling from the first to serve in Ireland, now showed little inclination to plant in the land they had overrun. Many of them refused, even though bribed with a new suit of clothes and a month’s half-pay, to take possession of their Irish estates. Some sold their debentures before they knew where lay the lands that had fallen to their share ; some gambled away their fields in ignorance of their value ; others were cheated by their officers, who desired to add a soldier’s lot to their own domain. Nor were the officers themselves supremely happy when they had taken possession of the mansions and parks, whose rightful owners were starving and shivering in hurdle huts on the far side of the Shannon. Possibly, when they had turned their swords into ploughshares, they regarded rapine and slaughter in a different light, and began to be troubled with feelings of humanity. They could not help commiserating the remnant of the gentry who lingered in a beggared condition near their own ancestral domains ; they connived at the disobedience of the unhappy gentlemen, and concealed them when a search was made for transplantable persons. They were at a loss for labourers ; at a loss for the poor Irish who had been transported or transplanted, or who had fled to the bogs and mountains to be neighbourly only in a dangerous way. The State expected that Protestants of every nation would grate¬ fully accept an invitation to take up their abode in this Island of the Blest; and in the most liberal manner non-Catholics throughout the world were made as free of Ireland as were the natives of England. Exiled Bohemians, well-affected persons from the Low Countries, the Vaudois of Piedmont, were invited to settle in the land of the Gael; it was even imagined that the lately expatriated English would re-cross the Atlantic and sit down in Ireland with the Puritan planters. 2 How¬ ever, the invited did not come. Few besides the Lord Protector Cromwell looked with complacency on the new Ireland his genius had created. At the Restoration, the nobility and gentry hoped to get back their estates, and began to creep forth from Connaught and take farms in the neighbourhood of their ancient patrimony. Many of them had claims on the king, which it was not supposed he would disallow. The disappointment that ensued is a well-known chapter in Irish history. Some three or four families, who had influential friends at court, were reinstated in their possessions, but the Cromwellian settlers, as 1,1 Irelands Naturall History.” 2 See Lingard’s “ History of England,” vol. viii., ch. v.; and other authorities. 20 INTRODUCTION. a body, were not disturbed. They displayed surprising indifference about the change of dynasty; rigid principles conveniently gave way before attachment to the land ; they were, in a word, left on their plantations, as a trusty garrison to maintain the English interests in Ireland. In higher circles unprincipled men changed sides with amazing celerity ; made themselves useful in the new condition of the empire; and were handsomely rewarded at the expense of old and faithful adherents of the crown. Charles lids dislike to religious persecution was well known. Whenever his wishes were consulted, the laws against Catholics were suffered to fall into disuse. But as the persecuting statutes were not repealed, they were put in execution whenever it suited the temper of men in authority to enforce them. Much depended on the disposition of the lord deputy, for the time being, and on the governors of the provinces. Lord Berkeley, when acting as viceroy, allowed ecclesias¬ tics to exercise their functions, and had many Catholics in his court. His successor, the Earl of Essex, was described as “ a wise and prudent man, who does not willingly give annoyance to those who live in peace.” Lord Charlemont, in the North, protected the Catholics, and was a friend of the Primate, Dr. Oliver Plunket, whom he invited to ad¬ minister the sacrament of confirmation in the court of his official residence, instead of going out to the bogs to assemble there the scattered flock. But, on the other hand, the Earl of Kingstown, Governor of Connaught, expelled the clergy from Galway; and the Earl of Orrery, President of Munster, would not allow priests to say Mass in Cork or Limerick, and they were obliged to go out into the country to offer the holy Sacrifice. On the whole, the Catholics were left in peace for some years, and the Primate was able to say that “under the present king there is great tolerance and sufficient con¬ nivance.” 1 In the end, however, the bigotry excited by the Gun¬ powder Plot put an end to peace, and led to atrocious proceedings. All ecclesiastics were again ordered to quit the country ; bishops and priests fled to the Continent, or hid in the mountains ; the Primate was hanged at Tyburn. “ They say things are no way amended (as to Catholic natives) since the kings going home,” writes Dr. French, Bishop of Ferns, “that change having noe ways bettered theire fortunes, but that their calamities and miseries (soe it is written from many hands) are dayly increased, so as men beaten with scourges in Crumwelks tyme, cry out they are now beaten with scorpions.” 2 With regard to secular affairs generally, the state of Ireland was truly described by the Lord Deputy, the Earl of Essex, when he said : 1 For these particulars of the state of the Catholics in different parts of Ireland daring the reign of Charles II., see the Introduction to Dr. Moran’s “Life of Archbishop Plunket.” 2 Preface to “The Unkind Deserter.” (1676.) PENAL DAYS. 21 “This country has been perpetually rent and torn since his majesty’s restoration. I can compare it to nothing better than the flinging the reward, on the death of the deer, among the pack of hounds, where everyone pulls and tears where he can for himself.” 1 he only wonder is that, at the Revolution, when Ireland was chosen as the battle-field on which the crown of England was to be fought for, there were men forthcoming numerous and spirited enough to form even the semblance of an army for James II. But it must be remembered that a generation inured to hardships as severe as those of war, had grown to manhood since the Restoration, and that James had, on his accession to the throne, given to the Irish signal proofs of royal favour by appointing Catholics to high civil and military posts, and naming the Earl of Tyrconnell as viceroy of the kingdom. Under the new stimulus of gratitude the Irish became inspirited even to the heroic point, and rallied round the standard of the first King of England who had thus bound them to his cause. Some of the ancient nobility returned from the Continent, and, uniting with representatives of the Catholic gentry still remaining in the country, hastened to enlist troops. 1 Before long fifty regiments were enrolled. Men seemed to start out of the ground ; but food, clothing, and munitions of war were not so speedily forthcoming. The French officers, who came over with the king, were astonished at the destitution that every¬ where prevailed. There was no bread to be had ; the soldiers were living on horseflesh ; their pay was a penny a day. Half-armed with pikes and muskets unfit for use, sometimes bareheaded and bare¬ footed, equipped in ragged regimentals, they were ill-prepared to meet in the field the well-fed, well-armed troops of different nation¬ alities, brilliant in their new uniform, which were mustering in the North for service under William of Orange. 2 It was the forlorn hope marching out once more. Victory was impossible under such circum¬ stances, even to those “very great scorners of death,” who defended the bridge of Athlone, 3 and who, when cannon balls were served to them at Aughrim, where musket bullets were required, tore the 1 “ A more noble host has seldom been submitted to review. Six of the colonels were peers, as were five of the captains. The other officers were sons of peers, baronets, or heirs of the oldest families as long as they had anything to inherit.”—Preface to Dalton’s “ Illus¬ trations of King James’s Army List.” 2 “An unusually strong artillery train attended it (William’s army). In new scarlet coats, in breeches of every hue, horse, foot, and dragoons paraded gorgeously.”—Colonel Charles Townshend Wilson’s “James II. and the Duke of Berwick,” p. 292. 3 “ The barricades at the Irish end of the broken arch being burnt by the carcasses, some English grenadiers managed to throw beams across the chasm, and were about to plank them, when from the other side sprang a sergeant and ten soldiers clad in armour. They would destroy the handiwork, or die. Every man of them perished. But in a moment fresh volunteers fastened upon the skeleton platform, and at the cost of all their lives, save two, succeeded in ripping it up and flinging it into the river.”— Ibid., p. 295. no INTRODUCTION. buttons from their coats and fired them with the ramrods of their guns in the faces of their assailants. 1 Withdrawn behind the walls of Limerick, the Irish troops won by their gallant co-nduct the admiration of their enemies. That brave garrison could not restore to his throne the king whose sovereignty they acknowledged ; but in surrendering the city they obtained honour¬ able terms for themselves as military men, and religious liberty, secured by treaty, for their country. Then followed the scene, so often described, when Sarsfield and his men marched out of Limerick, with arms, ammunition, colours flying, and matches lighted; and crossing to the Clare side of the Shannon, withdrew towards the horse camp near the ruins of Quin Abbey, whence they could descry the French fleet of eighteen ships of war, six fire ships, and other vessels of great burden, under the command of M. Chateau Renault, sailing up the river two days late to save the city and the cause. By the military articles of the Treaty of Limerick, the Irish troops were free to return to their homes, to enter the English service, or to volunteer for France. General Ginkle’s agents arrived at the camp, offering great inducements to the soldiers to join the army of William of Orange ; while M. Tameron, on the part of the French Government, seconded by Sarsfield and the Irish clergy, urged them to adhere to their legitimate sovereign and to follow him to France. Ginkle used the utmost efforts to retain the King’s Guards, a noble corps of 1,400 men, for his master; but when they came to the place assigned for separating, the Guards, with the exception of seven men, marched for France. The same thing took place, in a greater or less proportion, in all the other corps, and not long afterwards 19,000 Irish soldiers sailed for the Continent. Of these a considerable part embarked on board M. Chateau Renault’s fleet; and English transports, according to stipulation, conveyed away the remainder, of whom 4,500 sailed with Sarsfield from Cork. “ Many of these exiles were accompanied by their families, but a great many of the women and children were also left behind, and reduced to a state of utter destitution ; the loud wailing at the parting scenes in Limerick and Cork, and on the shores of Kerry, smote the hearts even of their enemies.” 2 In Cork great kindness was shown by the Protestant inhabitants to the women and children who were left behind for want of room in the transports sent to take off the men. These helpless families were humanely supported by the citizens until the exiles found means to send for them and settle them in new homes. Thus the close, like the beginning and the middle of the century, was signalised by the departure for continental states of many thousands of the choice men of Ireland. Between the earlier and the later 1 See Mr. 0 ‘Callaghan’s “ Green Book.” 2 Mr. Haverty’s “ History of Ireland,” p. 672. PENAL DAYS. 2 3 periods there is also another point of resemblance—each was marked by the infraction of a solemn treaty, securing the religious liberty for which the nation had fought so desperately. Parliament paid no respect whatever to the Articles of Limerick, though they had been signed by the Lords Justices and the Commander-in-Chief, ratified by William and Mary, and enrolled in the Court of Chancery. Legisla¬ tion was now turned with concentrated force to the accomplishment of a work which the sword had been powerless to achieve. The seventeenth century drew to a close, with its butcheries, its confisca¬ tions, and its banishments ; and a new era began—an era less sanguinary, but more revolting to humanity—the era, namely, of the Penal Laws. II. Edmund Burke described “ the vicious perfection ” of the Penal Code, when he said : “ It was a complete system, well digested and well composed in all its parts. It was a machine of wise and elaborate contrivance; and as well fitted for the oppression, impoverishment, and degradation of a people, and the debasement, in them, of human nature itself, as ever proceeded from the perverted ingenuity of man.” Another writer remarked, that it required four or five reigns to elaborate it; and this was indeed the fact, for the persecuting statutes of William and Mary were supplemented by the “ ferocious Acts of Queen Anne A while these again were capped by the inhuman legis¬ lation of the First and Second Georges. “ The memory of this Code,” says Mr. Goldwin Smith, “ will still remain a reproach to human nature, and a terrible monument of the vileness into which nations may be led when their religion has been turned into hatred, and they have been taught to believe that the indulgence of the most malignant passions of man is an acceptable offering to God. For it was a code of degradation and proscription, not only religious and political, but social. It denied the persecuted sect the power of educating their children at home, and at the same time, with an almost maniacal cruelty, it prohibited them from seeking education abroad. It disabled them from acquiring freehold property; it subjected their estates to an exceptional rule of succession—a reproduction, in fact, of that very custom of gavelkind which had been abolished as barbarous, with a view to break them into fragments, and thus destroy the territorial power of the Catholic proprietors. It excluded them from the liberal and influential professions ; it took from them the guardianship of their own children ; it endeavoured to set child against parent, and parent against child, by the truly diabolical enactment, that the son of a Papist, on turning Protestant, should dispossess his father of the fee- simple of his estate ; the father’s estate, even in that which he had himself acquired, being reduced to a life-interest, while the reversion 24 INTRODUCTION. vested absolutely in the son, as a reward for his conversion to the true religion.” “It would seem,” continues the writer, “as though the persecutors had intended almost to exclude their victims from the pale of human society. For, in the case of alleged offences against certain of the Penal Laws, the first principles of criminal justice were deliberately and ostentatiously set aside, by removing the burden of proof from the accuser and casting it on the accused.” 1 Thus, the whole kingdom became for the Catholics a wider Crom¬ wellian Connaught. They were hemmed in on every side. The last sanctuary of peace—their home—was invaded, and the safeguards which the natural virtues had provided for the preservation of domestic order, were fatally endangered. Even to the grave they were pursued ; for, by an Act of William and Mary, it was forbidden to Catholics to bury their dead in any monastery, church, or abbey, not used for Protestant service. All the old laws against the clergy were mercilessly carried out in the early part of the last century. Ecclesiastics were commanded to leave the country ; they were declared guilty of high treason if they returned ; large bribes were offered to such as would apostatise; and rewards were given for the apprehension of those who would not depart. Magistrates and landlords, over zealous for religion and the law, acted the part of priest-hunters ; employed underlings, called “ priest-hounds ” by the populace, to dog the steps of God’s ministers, and seize them in “ the act of massing.” These outlaws for the faith, “ mostly the sons of reduced gentlemen, had tasted of ease and affluence in their younger years, and were accustomed to refinement of manners, and the graces of education ; they were now confined to the association of poverty and ignorance, were exposed to the merci¬ less pursuit of priest-catchers, and to the cold and damps and starva¬ tion of bogs and caverns.” 2 In pursuing their detestable trade, the priest-catchers became so odious, even to Protestants, that many of the latter gave sanctuary in their houses to the fugitives, protected them when brought before the tribunals, and assisted the Catholics in hunting the informers out of the country. 3 But though the priests might be left for intervals 1 “ Irish Histoiy and Irish Character.” 3 Matthew O’Conor’s “ Histoiy of the Irish Catholics,” p. 211. 3 The late DeanCogan, in his “ History of the Diocese of Meath,” gives several instances of kindness shown by Protestant families to the hunted priests. Father Clarke of Johns¬ town found good friends in the Ludlows of Ardsallagh Castle ; a boat was at all times at his disposal to ferry him across the Boyne to the castle, whither he was accustomed to fly for shelter when the hounds were on his track. Mr. Waller of Allenstown had Father Barnwell concealed for several weeks in his house; and when any of the people required the last sacraments, a messenger would proceed to Allenstown, pass round the house so as to attract Mr. Waller’s attention, and then tell the kind-hearted gentleman that a priest was wanted in such a place. Dr. Plunket, the Vicar-General of the diocese, was saved from a notorious priest-hunter by a gentleman who hid the fugitive in an upper room of his house, PENAL DAYS. 25 unmolested in their obscurity, they never were safe : the laws might be put in execution at any moment through the agency of private malignity, merciless bigotry, or the make-believe of political expe¬ diency. In 1715, they were dragged from the altars and banished the country ; in 1744, private houses were searched for them. Father O’Grady, who lived at Derrynane when O’Connell was a boy, had been tried in Tralee on a charge of being a Popish priest; 1 and a Father Malony, who had been informed against and convicted of a similar crime, would have died in gaol, if Lord Shelbourne and his colleagues had not released him at their own risk. 2 Mass was often said in those evil days in the houses of Catholic gentlemen, or in a retired part of their grounds. Great precautions were necessary, on these occasions, to prevent the intrusion of any person who was not well known to trusty members of the household; for there was a twofold risk in these cases—danger to the officiating minister from the priest-hunters, and danger to the master of the house, whose profession of the Catholic religion and implication in the offence of screening a “ Massing Priest,” left him at the mercy of any wretch who, by “ discovering,” might dispossess the proprietor and claim his goods. Vigilance itself was sometimes baffled. On one occasion a man in the guise of a mendicant got into a house where Mass was about to be offered. At first the intruder escaped observa¬ tion ; but the master noticed the stranger, became suspicious, instituted inquiries, and learned to his consternation that the “beggar” was a well-known discoverer. The gentleman lost no time in taking horse for the capital, where he arrived in time to forestall the informer. He saved his estate, but at a terrible cost. He took the oath of abjuration, and was registered as a Protestant. This system of “discovery” wrought mischief in every direction; for not only had men to guard their property against the arts of pro¬ fessional adepts, but they had to take good care lest they should themselves be compelled to make disclosures fatal to their friends. Flight was sometimes the only means whereby one’s own honour, and the rights of one’s neighbour could be preserved. Father Kirwan, a Galway Dominican, having been summoned to give evidence against some of his friends, whereby, under the Penal Laws, they would have been deprived of their property, went into voluntary exile, and died abroad in 1736. which could only be approached by a ladder, removable at pleasure. The aged vicar was so feeble that he could not ascend or descend the ladder without assistance, and yet, in the obscurity of night he would set out to attend sick-calls. Another priest of Meath was often sheltered by the noble family of Headfort, when there was a priest hunt through the country. 1 O’Neill Daunt’s “ Personal Recollections of O’Connell,” vol. i., p. 1 9 1 2 “Memoir of Richard Lovell Edgworth,” vol. ii., p. 46. 26 INTRODUCTION. Happily there were safer places than private houses where the Holy Sacrifice might be offered during the worst days of persecution. In sandpits, in caves by the sea-shore, on rocks overhanging a river, in a valley difficult of access, the Catholics set up their altar. The much abused bogs were as serviceable to the poor Irish in the eighteenth century as they had been in the seventeenth. The priest- catchers could not, any more than Cromwell’s Ironsides, follow them into the shelterless, dangerous, and seemingly trackless expanse. As the primitive Christians went down into the catacombs to worship God, so the Irish Catholics went out into these desert places to celebrate the holiest act of religion. On Sunday morning before daybreak, the priest, habited in the peasant’s frieze, and having a wallet slung across his shoulder, repaired to a well-known spot, and dressed an altar on the leeward side of a turf-clamp, or, in wild weather, within the shelter of a peat-roofed hut. Wintry days thinned the congregation to a score or two of hardy peasants, who thought little of the slanting showers, and only laughed at the careering winds ; but in fair weather there was a larger mustering- of the flock. The gentlefolk came from far and near, and, leaving their horses on the confines of terra firma, carefully threaded their way, closely following a scout of quick intelli¬ gence and light weight, who acted the part of guide ; while, disencum¬ bered of their brogues, the pious crowd of humbler degree ran fear¬ lessly forward, making short-cuts, and clearing the drains at a bound. There was something, no doubt, congenial to the hardy piety of these confessors of the faith in the free healthy air of the bogs, perfumed with a thymy fragrance. The wilderness itself had a charm for the fugitive flock hurrying to the Sunday Mass, when the gleams and shadows of early morn flitted over the bare brown stretches, the purple- clothed tracts, the dark motionless pools, and when the great silence was broken by the Latin of the sacred rite ascending to heaven, the Gaelic exhortation dropping into the hearts of the people, the whirr of the wild bird’s wing, the lark’s ecstatic song. Mountain districts had their altars in conspicuous but secure situations. A rocky ledge or a platform of loose stones was all that the priest required ; the congre¬ gation knelt around; while keen-eyed, shrill-voiced, nimble-footed youths stood sentinel at the outposts, to signal the approach of suspicious strangers. Dwellers on the neighbouring heights and in the adjacent valley knew when and where the holy Sacrifice was offered up between earth and heaven, though no bell tolled the message, and no vision could descry the distant altar. If they could not reach the “ mountain of the Mass,” they turned their eyes thither at the hour of oblation, and sent a prayer upon the passing breeze. When the penal rage had somewhat abated, the people were no longer obliged to perform their devotions in secret or well-nigh inaccessible places ; they could meet for that purpose in the open PENAL DAYS. 2 7 fields. “ The poorer sort of Irish natives/’ remarks an intelligent stranger, who travelled in Ireland, towards the middle of the eight¬ eenth century, “ are Roman Catholics, who make no scruple to assemble in the open fields. As we passed yesterday in a by-road, we saw a priest under a tree with a large assembly about him, cele¬ brating Mass in his proper habit, and though a great distance from him, we heard him distinctly.” “These sort of people,” the writer adds, “ are very solemn and sincere in their devotion.” 1 Tradition marks the site of these refuges in penal days ; and the memory cf the rites that sanctified them is imperishably preserved in the Gaelic names of the places thus consecrated, and still pointed out as the Friar’s Bog, the Hollow of the Mass, Chapel-field, the Priest’s Hill, and so on. 2 If the people were hunted and dared not worship in the sight of their rulers, so also was their Lord denied a tabernacle, and left to sojourn precariously in the tents of Israel. The whole island, north and south, east and west, was hallowed by this passage of the Lord. Notwithstanding the very complete clearing-out of the towns during the Puritan regime, Catholics formed a considerable part of the population of most of them before many years had elapsed. They crept back under one !pretence or another, and by their industry advanced their families from indigence and a servile position to a condition of ordinary comfort and monetary independence, which made them some amends for their deprivation of all political, municipal, and social rights, and for the insults and contumely they had daily to bear on account of their religion. But they enjoyed no security: they lived on the edge of a volcanic crater, and knew not at what moment an explosion might ensue. A glance through Hardiman’s “History of Galway” will show to what vicissitudes the inhabitants of an impor¬ tant town were exposed by the bigotry or the apprehensions of the executive. Galway, like most of the Irish ports remained a strong English colony for many centuries after the Anglo-Norman invasion, the garrison keeping up a defensive war against their troublesome Irish neighbours, and the civic authorities taking special care to permit “ neither O ne Mac to strutte ne swagger throughe the streets of Gall¬ way.” As a trading station this capital of the west held a high position, and there was a saying that in a foreign port it would be asked— “What part of Galway Ireland was situated in?” Lord Henry Cromwell, in describing the commercial advantages of that Western seaport, says, “that it lies open for trade with Spain, the Straits, the West Indies, and other places, and is second to no town in the three nations, London excepted.” But its former loyalty to the English 1 “A Tour in Ireland.” Ey two English Gentlemen (1746), p. 163. 2 See Dr. Joyce’s “ Irish Names of Places,” First Series; and Dean Cogan’s “ Diocese of Meath.” 28 INTRODUCTION. interest did not save it, as we have seen, from being cleared of its ancient inhabitants under the Cromwellian regime. They declined conversion to the new English religion, faced the consequences, and were confounded in the same calamity with the old Irish population. One way or another, however, Catholicity sprang up again in Galway, and was so much in the ascendant, with regard to numbers at least, in 1714, that one James French, a regular Popish clergyman, who had lain in gaol a long time committed for high treason, for returning from beyond seas after being transported, could not be tried for want of a Protestant jury of freeholders. Not long after this extraordinary dilemma had occurred, many of the Corporation commiserating the distressed condition of the Catholic inhabitants, admitted several persons not residing in the town, to the freedom and privileges of the Corporation. Thereupon very great contentions arose, and the advocates of the Protestant interest sent a petition to the Parliament of Ireland, calling for the interference of the government, and setting forth, in detail, the deplorable condition of affairs. This document declared that nunneries and other places of refuge for religious and secular priests, friars, and other offenders against the law, had been connived at, while a great number of Papists had, by the neglect of the magistrates, been permitted to inhabit the town. Popish priests, friars, and dignitaries of the Church of Rome (as the memorial stated), frequently landed from foreign parts, and, through the connivance of the justices of the peace, were sheltered from justice, and from thence dispersed themselves all over the kingdom. Parliament duly commended the zeal of these religious and loyal corporators ; their Lordships of the Upper House could not omit observing on the occa¬ sion that the insolence of the Papists throughout the nation was very great; and measures were taken to save the country from destruction. Some years later, namely, in 1731, there was another penal visitation of Galway, and the Mayor was ordered to apprehend all Popish archbishops, bishops, jesuits, and friars within the town and country, and to suppress all monasteries and nunneries. But these Irish Papists were so obstinate and irrepressible, there seemed to be hardly any use in turning them out. On each occasion the banished towns¬ people, the nuns as well as the rest, took refuge with their country cousins; and, quietly awaiting the course of events, returned to their wonted habitations on the first opportunity. Stratford Eyre being appointed governor of the town and port, and vice-admiral of the province in 1747, f° un d himself under the obligation of forwarding an unsatisfactory report to his government. There were no other, he said, than Popish merchants in the town though they were for¬ bidden by express laws from inhabiting therein, and had been formerly, every man, turned out. And, what was worse, several French officers, or French officers of Irish birth and extraction, were then in PENAL DAYS. 2 9 the town with their relations, recruiting for the Irish Brigades as was suspected. The governor being determined to put a restraint on all ill-designing men, ordered everyone coming into the town to be searched, and had the gates closed at four o’clock in the afternoon ; and when, a couple of years later on, he undertook to issue certain orders to the inhabitants, he threatened that if he were not instan¬ taneously obeyed, he would put the Popery laws into immediate execution. Meanwhile, the impoverished country gentry were harrassed by constantly recurring vexations, and the ever-present dread of all too real dangers. Many gentlemen, who had returned to their homes after the surrender of Limerick, endeavoured to get away to the Continent when they saw that the solemnly ratified Articles of the Treaty were shamelessly violated. But flight by that time had become exceedingly difficult. They were not allowed to go abroad ; they had to stay to bear all the weary yoke of the penal code, and possibly to suffer at the hands of demoralised relatives, or unprincipled neighbours, the loss of the few acres that had remained in their possession. Not even those who had got land in Connaught from the Parliamentary Commis¬ sioners were safe under the new legislation. The Staffords, for instance, who had been transplanted from Wexford, were afterwards dispossessed of the lands apportioned to them in the county of Ros¬ common, by a relative who, having conformed to the State religion, received, as his recompense, the property of his elder brother. 1 If a gentleman were not actually robbed in his own person of his property, he had no security at all that it would not eventually, by a process known to the penal law-givers, be made to strengthen the Protestant interest; for, should he die before his heir was of age, the Government would take the youth under its paternal care, and bring him up in the way it wished him to go. This happened in the ancient Irish family of the Kavanaghs of Borris. The two English travellers already quoted, visited in the course of their tour the noble seat of that family, and heard the people lamenting the recent death of the proprietor. “ The heir is a minor,” observes the writer of the tour, “ the house and town with a great estate belong to this young gentleman. There is a law in this kingdom that the minor of a Roman Catholic, left so by the death of his father, is accounted the heir of the Crown ; and the Lord Chancellor, for the time being, is appointed his guardian, in order to bring him up a Protestant, and this young gentleman is now in West¬ minster School for that purpose.” Later in the century, the Catholic faith was preserved in a noble family by the energy and self-devotion of Father Dixon, a member of the Society of Jesus, and parish priest of St. Michan’s in Dublin, who carried off Lord Gormanstown in his See Dr. Hardiman’s “Irish Minstrelsy,” p. no, note. 3° INTRODUCTION. nonage to France, superintended his education, and remained with him until the young man, having attained his majority, could return to Ireland and take possession of his estate, without renouncing his inheritance in heaven. It is related in Battersby’s “Jesuits in Dublin/’ that while they were in Paris the good priest was obliged to have a well-armed person with himself to take care of his charge, who, on more than one occasion, was about to be hoodwinked in the evening and carried away by force. Father Dixon, who was an educated and polished gentleman, happened to be a good swordsman also, and on these occasions “ had to do a little with an elegant cane-sword, which had been given him by one of the princes of the blood in France.” Many of the gentry, especially in Connaught, were reduced by the Williamite wars to the last stage of destitution. Relatives and friends, though hardly better off than they, supported them until the Govern¬ ment, recognising their distress, issued an order that “ all vagrants pretending to be Irish gentlemen ” should be transported. Several unfortunate persons were accordingly shipped to North America in the reign of Queen Anne. Some few of the victims of confiscation, who remained in Ireland, got back in one way or another, generally through the exertions of powerful friends, a moiety of their rightful possessions ; but they were oftentimes little the better of their nominal proprietor¬ ship. It was so with the antiquary Roderick O’Flaherty, who, though he obtained a Government title to some acres of his once extensive patrimony, found himself, nevertheless, in a condition of absolute poverty, owing to the depopulation of the country, and the widespread misery that prevailed. His “Ogygia” and other works of learned research and high historic value, were written in a dilapidated house on the sea-shore facing the islands of Arran ; and on a low rock, covered with a green mossy sward, the old man spent much of his time viewing the sublime prospect of the ocean, the historic islands, and the distant coast of Clare. “ I live,” he says “ a banished man within the bounds of my native soil ; a spectator of others enriched by my birthright ; an object of condoling to my relations and friends, and a condoler of their miseries.” Here in his ruined habitation he was visited by Edward Lhuyd, the author of the “Archaeologia Britanica,” who subse¬ quently, in referring to a book and letter forwarded to O’Flaherty, observed that the old Irish scholar would be “ scarce able to pay postage.” Thither, also, journeyed William Molyneux in 1709, hoping to see some old Irish manuscripts belonging to the antiquary; but in this the traveller was disappointed. O’Flaherty, then over eighty years of age, had not been able to retain such treasures; “ ill fortune had stripped him of these as well as his other goods.” 1 1 These and other notices of the author of “ Ogygia ” will be found in Dr. Hardiman’s edition of “ West Connaught,” and in the first volume of “ The Miscellany of the Irish Archaeological Society.” PENAL DAYS. 3 1 Among the more fortunate of the Catholic families were the O’Conors of Belanagar, in the county of Roscommon ; and yet their history in the eighteenth century shows what dangers encompassed the followers of the ancient faith, and how much they had to suffer for their principles. Denis O’Conor, the head of the family in the begin¬ ning of the century, had been dispossessed of his ancient inheritance, and cultivated with his own hands a farm at Knockmore, near Bally- farnon. He married Mary O’Rorke of Breffiny, a daughter of the Captain Tiernan O’Rorke who went to France after the surrender of Limerick, and was killed, in 1702, at the battle of Luzzara ; in which engagement also fell, fighting in the opposite ranks, O’Conor’s nephew, Francis MacDonnel, Major in the Imperial service. 1 In the humble home at Knockmore, the descendants of a princely stock, and the faithful adherents of the ancient creed, brought up their children, teaching them lessons of industry, Christian humility, and veneration for all that was truly great. O'Conor would often say to his sons : “ Boys, you must not be impudent to the poor : remember, though I am the son of a gentleman, ye are the children of a ploughman and his distinguished son, the venerable Charles O’Conor, long remembered how, when he was a child, his father would take him in his arms and say to him, with uncommon emotion, in Irish : “ My child, be always prepared for poverty, and then you will never become guilty to avoid it.” O’Conor’s great desire was to set back Belanagar, and be in a position to befriend his relatives and others who had lost their homes and property. Through the exertions of Counsellor Terence M‘Donagh of Creevagh—a great friend to the Catholic gentry in those days—the family residence and a part of the ancient property were recovered. Belanagar became thereupon the rendezvous of the unfortunate Jacobites, who were always welcome, especially when they could recount the scenes of distress they were condemned to travel through at home and abroad. The master of the hospitable mansion com¬ miserated all exiles from the island of the Gael, and invited his mother- in-law, who was lady-of-honour at the court of St. Germains, to come to Belanagar and live and die in her native country. The lady accepted the invitation and spent the remainder of her life at Belanagar, whither a small pension was annually remitted to her from France in con¬ sideration of the faithful and romantic attachment of her family to the house of Stuart. The first person who put a Latin grammar into the hands of young Charles O’Conor was a poor friar, of the Convent of Creevelea, who scarcely could speak a word of English, but knew how to teach his pupil to read and write Irish grammatically, and to pronounce it with the 1 Mr. O’Callaghan in his animated description of the surprise and rescue of Cremona, has much to say of Major MacDonnel, who on that occasion took Marshal Villeroy a prisoner.—See “ History of the Irish Brigades.” 32 INTRODUCTION. accuracy and accent of the ancients. The lad also received some in¬ struction from another clergyman. But had he not been well disposed to profit by the scant opportunities thus afforded for education, he would have grown up in absolute ignorance of letters ; for the proclamations issued were so severe, the priests seldom remained more than one night in any place ; and the gentry were afraid to let their children go much abroad, lest they should learn from wicked companions the power which the laws gave them over their own parents, or become acquainted with the provisions of the Gavel Act. Providence, however, sent young Charles a kind friend and a good preceptor in the person of his uncle, Dr. O’Rorke, Bishop of Killala, the son of the Captain O’Rorke already mentioned. This prelate had been chaplain and private secretary to Prince Eugene of Savoy, to whom he was introduced as the son of the Irish officer whose fate on the field of Luzzara the great commander had himself witnessed. Soon after he received this appointment Dr. O’Rorke was named Bishop of Killala. The prince, on taking leave of his chaplain, pre¬ sented him with a gold cross and a ring set in diamonds, and intro¬ duced him to the Emperor Leopold, who warmly recommended him to Queen Anne by private letters, and to all his allies by a passport written on parchment, signed by Leopold himself, and sealed with the great seal of the empire. Those marks of imperial favour procured him an audience and letters from the queen to some of the leading men in Ireland. But not even her Majesty’s protection could avail him in Ireland. On his arrival in his diocese he was doomed as a Popish spy ; obliged to change his name to that of Fitzgerald ; to skulk some years in the bogs of Joyce country ; and finally, to seek an asylum among his relatives in the house of Belanagar, from which he dated his letters to his clergy —Ex loco nostri Rcfugii. To this revered guest young O’Conor was indebted for sound, intellectual, and mental culture. The bishop obliged him to copy the most beautiful pages from the best English writers; to translate the classics into chaste English ; and to commit to memory passages from the great poets and the most admired writers of prose. Nor would he allow the young man to neglect the study of the Irish language. One day, when the pupil had succeeded very happily in describing to a friend in Vienna the miseries of the old Irish, a task pointed out to him by the bishop, he told his instructor that he would never more write in Irish, since he succeeded so well in English. “ No,” said Dr. O’Rorke, “ what you have once learned you must never forget, and you shall not go to rest until you have translated the psalm Miserere into Irish. The youth obeyed, and produced a translation which so much pleased the bishop, that he read it for the guests assembled that nioffit at Belanag-ar. Among the company was the bard O’Carolan, who, on hearing the Gaelic version read in a solemn, affecting voice, burst into a flood of PENAL DAYS. 33 tears, and taking his harp in a fit of rapturous affection for the family of Belanagar, swept along the strings his Donagha Cahill oig, singing extempore the fall of the Irish race, the hospitality of old Denis O’Conor, and his greatness of soul, who in the midst of crosses and calamities harboured that very night in his house a crowd of reduced gentlemen, and hired a number of harpers to strike up a solemn con¬ cert at Midnight Mass (for it was Christmas Eve), and a dancing master, a fencing master, and an Irish master, for the instruction and polite education of his children. Young O’Conor was taught music by O’Carolan, and learned to play on the harp. The bard was an honoured guest at Belanagar, as well as in the houses of the gentry throughout the country, whether Protestant or Catholic. He did not play for hire. He composed his pieces only when some mighty passion elevated his soul. “ I think,” he said one day, “that when I am among the O’Conors, the harp has the old sound in it.” “ No,” said the harper M‘Cabe, who was present, “ but your soul has the old madness in it.” Such were the studies of the young man, whose amusement it was to run with the dogs in the morning, and listen to the tales of ancient times at night. When about seventeen years of age he was sent to Dublin and placed with a priest, the Rev. Walter Skelton, under whose instruction he made great proficiency in mathematics and natural philosophy. In due course he returned to the country, and, devoting himself to agricultural and literary pursuits, resided on a farm given to him by his father. He married Miss O’Hogan of Tullyoge, in the county of Tyrone, the lady bringing him a considerable fortune. On the death of his father, in 1749, he removed to Belanagar, and kept up there the same hospitable house, to whose door the unfortunate were always welcome. Not alone was he a friend to the broken gentry : he was a benefactor to the people; providing for their children by getting them into foreign armies, or enabling them to enter the priest¬ hood • and receiving the small remittances sent to them from France, Spain, and Germany. The people loved him : for he joined in their sports, played their old music, was the writer of their pedigrees, and recounted to them the adventures of their fathers after the battle of Aughrim, adding a native grace to his Irish narratives, and knowing well how to captivate a people with whose genius and manners he was intimately acquainted. Convinced that in all systems the greatest number must be poor, he loved to inculcate in a thousand shapes such old maxims as helped to alleviate the calamities he was not able to remove. 1 1 This sketch of the O’Conors is taken almost word for word from the “ Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Charles O’Conor of Belanagar,” by the Rev. Charles O’Conor, D.D. The first volume, printed in 1796, was never published. A few copies were given to friends, and the remainder were destroyed by the author under the apprehension that its publication 4 34 INTRODUCTION. Such were the circumstances and such the people surrounding the youth and early manhood of the learned historian, the friend of Johnson and Burke, the venerable Charles O’Conor of Belanagar. But not even he was to be exempt in his own person from the out¬ rages which the penal system made it easy to perpetrate. In his old age, when, as we are told, his patriarchal appearance attracted the notice and commanded the respect and veneration of all who beheld him ; and when, notwithstanding the industry and economy he had practised in order that he might have wherewithal to be generous, his resources were embarrassed by the mercantile disappointments of one of his sons ; an unworthy younger brother read his recantation before the Archbishop of Dublin, and by filing a bill of discovery sought to possess himself of the property of Belanagar. 1 Temptations to apostasy often, unfortunately, proved too strong in those days for the virtue of men whose affections were centred in their worldly possessions, and who were ambitious to advance their children in life. Apostasy secured to a gentleman the possession of his own patrimony, enabled him to appropriate the goods of a relative or neighbour, and opened to his sons a career in the military, the legal, and the clerical professions. At one time it was not unusual for young men with an aptitude for the law to repair to the capital, attend service in the Protestant Church, and in the usual course be called to the bar. This done they returned to their country home, married into one of the Catholic families, brought up their children in the old religion, and perhaps retained one of the hunted priests as a chaplain. However, the guardians of the English interest were not slow to perceive the inefficacy of such conversions, and the dangers to Church and State likely to arise from the practice of introducing sheep in wolves’ clothing into the legal profession. Severe penalties might injure the family. The second volume, which Dr. O’Conor considered far more interesting, was not even printed. The MS. was burned, at his request, by the friend to whose care it had been entrusted.—“ Notes and Queries,” 3rd Series, vol. xi., p. 59. The surviving volume, full as it is of valuable and interesting matter, is out of the reach of general readers. It is not to be found in every gentleman’s library ; nor in every public library. The copy in Trinity College, Dublin, cost, we believe, ^21; that in the King’s Inns’ Library was disposed of at the sale of the Duke of Sussex Library in 1844. As a rule, books which treated of Irish affairs in a too national or too sympathetic a spirit, or entered into details of ancient genealogies, topography, &c., have hitherto been considered dangerous. In 1720, the Lord Justices prohibited the circulation of a reprint of Lord Clarendon’s “ History of the Rebellion and Civil Wars in Ireland,” considering the work of a seditious nature. In 1775, the Catholic bishops of the South publicly condemned the “Hibernia Dominicana,” as a work likely to disturb the public peace and tranquillity. “ Moore’s Irish Melodies ” were considered dangerous in the early part of the nineteenth century; and about thirty-eight years ago, the sudden dissolution of the topographical department of the Ordnance Survey was commonly understood to signify that the authorities thought it un¬ desirable to have attention drawn to old names, old boundaries, and old traditions. i See Wyse’s “History of the Catholic Association;” also “History and General Memoir of the O’Connors, Kings of Connaught, and their Descendants.” PENAL DAYS. 35 were therefore decreed against converts who neglected to bring up their children in the established religion ; and penal legislation in this branch was crowned by an Act of George II., which provided that any barrister or attorney who married a Catholic should be disbarred. Some gentlemen of Catholic birth were found ready to comply even with these hard conditions. Relinquishing whatever prepossession they might entertain in favour of a Catholic alliance, they married to please the State, imitated the Cromwellian gentry even in their Sunday church-going and their after-dinner toasts ; and nothing more was heard of their ancient creed until death, at length approaching, re¬ minded them that they should soon appear at the bar of a tribunal where not all the influence of the State and Church of England together could in aught avail them. What a sensation was created in a “ respectable” family of this description when the children heard their dying father imploring the aid of a priest! and what a chance there was of the prayer, which those nearest and dearest to him took for the wild ravings of a fevered brain, being complied with, unless some hanger-on in the kitchen or the stable learned the poor master’s distress and ran across the country to search in farm-houses or amidst the ruins of the ivied abbey for the anointed minister who might shrive the gasping sinner ! If the master still retained his senses he possibly would have to encounter once more the tempter in all his strength. The last assault would likely enough be in a reminder that his coming under the description of a “ lapsed Papist” would materially affect the disposition of his property and the future of his family. One of the last cases, we believe, which was brought into court under the penal laws was an action taken by a gentleman who sought to deprive his sisters of a property left to them by their father, on the plea that the testator being a lapsed Papist had no power to dispose of his property ; and it may be remembered that, in 1802, when the validity of Lord Dunboyne’s will was disputed, a learned serjeant stated, that by the laws then in force, a person relapsing to Popery from the Pro¬ testant religion, was deprived of the benefit of the laws made in favour of Roman Catholics, and was, of course, as under the old Popery laws, incapable of making a will of landed property. By a further strengthening of the Popery laws, it was enacted that converts should no longer be permitted to confine their profession of the reformed doctrines of Christianity to attendance at the Protestant Church services. They must in future take the oath of abjuration with solemn ceremonial, and receive the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper according to the established rite. This was the hardest condition of all for saving one’s property or improving one’s position. Still though it was sometimes complied with, the expected result was not invariably attained ; for there were found discoverers clever enough to detect flaws even in a certificate of conformity, and men unprincipled 36 INTRODUCTION. enough thus to enrich themselves at the expense of those “ kiln-dried Protestants.” In some instances the remnant of an estate was left in the posses¬ sion of its rightful owner : thanks to its remote or inaccessible situation. Where roads were bad or non-existent, and military stations few and far between, it was not worth anyone’s while to undertake a difficult expedition in search of what would probably not repay the trouble of discovery. Glencara, a small estate belonging to the O’Connells, was so happily hidden in the Kerry mountains that it escaped confiscation : a circumstance which so struck the Liberator’s fancy, that he said if ever he took a title it would be Earl of Glencara. 1 Obscurity proved in other ways, too, a great blessing to this family, as Dr. Smith learned when he visited their territory, on his journey through the mountain fastnesses in search of materials for his histories of Cork and Kerry. The Daniel O’Connell of that day hospitably entertained the learned traveller, and gave him a great deal of useful and interesting informa¬ tion. In return for the kindness he received, Dr. Smith intimated his intention of giving the O’Connells of Derrynane Abbey a prominent place in the forthcoming work. But O’Connell thought of his twenty- two children and the Penal Code, and he replied : “We have peace and comfort here, Dr. Smith ; we love the faith of our fathers; and amidst the seclusion of these glens enjoy a respite from persecution. If man is against us, God is for us. He gives us wherewithal to pay for the education of our children in foreign lands, and enough to assist their advancement in the Irish Brigade; but if you make mention of me or mine, the solitude of the sea-shore will no longer be our security —the sassenagh will scale the mountains of Derrynane, and we shall be driven upon the world without house or home.” 2 That many Catholics were able to live like gentlemen, or at any rate in decent comfort, in the more populous parts of the country, was owing to the kindness of their Protestant neighbours, who took leases and held properties in trust for them. This was an illegal proceeding, no doubt, for the Penal Code prohibited Protestants from acting as trustees to Catholics ; but the fidelity with which these engagements were discharged was creditable in the highest degree. “ There are instances upon record,” says Mr. O’Driscoll, in his “ Views of Ireland,” “ of the highest honour and most exalted generosity in the management of these important trusts. There were friendships that could not be broken, and hearts which could not be corrupted by the barbarity of the laws.” Nor was it to the wealthy alone that the un¬ fortunate Catholics were indebted for a helpful hand. A great portion 1 O’Neill Daunt’s “ Personal Recollections of the late Daniel O’Connell.” 2 See a paper—one of a series entitled “Ancestral Houses”—which appeared in the Weekly Register, 1864. PENAL DAYS. 37 of the estates of one of the largest counties in Ireland was conveyed to a Protestant barber ; and thus a poor man, whose whole possessions did not exceed a few pounds in value, had legally in his possession lands worth many thousands. But even in matters of secondary im¬ portance, the Catholics were dependent on the kindness of their Protestant neighbours and the fidelity of their Protestant servants. They were not allowed to have arms of any kind; and this, at a time when every gentleman wore a sword, and when, owing to the disturbed state of the country, it was necessary that houses remote from towns should be provided with means of defence. Moore, 1 in his striking way, notes the dilemma of the Irish gentleman of that day, who, if he were found with weapons, might be transported, and if without them, might be murdered. 2 But while a few of the Catholic families were fortunate enough to retain to some extent their due position, the great majority sank, externally at least, into the condition contemplated by the framers of the Penal Code. That they were not more speedily trampled into the very lowest grade was due, in the first place, to their pride of lineage, which supported them in their assumption of a position which their fortune was quite inadequate to support; and, in the second place, to the sympathy of the native population, whose love for the old stock was faithful through good and through evil report, and who never denied the fallen gentleman the respect which his ancestors enjoyed. The peasantry seemed almost to forget their own sorrows in their pity for those who had fallen from a higher estate ; they gave the decayed gentleman the title his ancestors had borne; and tilled for him the little plot of ground which, with a poor cabin, he was, perhaps, allowed rent free, or on a trifling acknowledgment to the owner. Our two English travellers were astonished, on a market-day at Callan, to see one of these poor gentry mounted on a little horse riding into the town, and receiving tokens of extraordinary respect from the native Irish who were assembled in the street. Neither his figure nor his dress seemed to entitle him to such distinction, and the strangers had the curiosity to ask what was meant by showing the man so much civility. The explanation was readily given ; and “ I own,” says the writer, “ that this account gave me a secret pleasure : it called to my memory an idea of many ages past; and when I observed this man I 1 “ Memoirs of Captain Rock." 2 “In 1733, Lord Gormanstown and Richard Barnwell were apprehended and arraigned at the Meath assizes for wearing swords when they went to pay their respects to the judges and gentlemen of the county at the assizes.”—Mr. Lecky’s “ History of England in the Eighteenth Century,” vol. ii., p. 285, note. In 1737, Mr. Nugent and Captain Maguire were indicted for wearing swords contrary to law.—“ Primate Boutler’s Letters,” vol. ii., p. 178. “ Lord Kenmare’s armorial bearings were effaced from his carriage in the vexy court. yard of Dublin Castle.”— London Quarterly Review, July, 1878. 38 INTRODUCTION. looked upon him as one of the ancient Milesian race, so much re¬ nowned for their wisdom and victories, even before Christianity had a being in the world.” 1 As long as these representatives of the ancient clans remained in being, the Cromwellian settlers had no chance of being regarded by the natives of the country as anything but upstarts and make-believe gentry. Even when the rightful heirs were away in foreign countries, and thought no more of their disallowed claims, the people remembered them and expected their return. “ The vene¬ ration of the people for the Milesian families, or even for those who can trace connection with them,” writes Dr. Hardiman, in his notes to the “ Irish Minstrelsy,” “ can hardly be conceived ; to this day they weep over the political downfall of the ancient gentry of the land ;” and on one occasion a poor man observed to the antiquary, in refer¬ ence to the condition of a certain property, “The heir is in France, but he has been expected as long as I can remember; but, alas! I am now old, and I fear he will never return.” Meanwhile, the descendants of the soldier settlers had been form¬ ing a new aristocracy, which did little credit to their English ancestry. They turned out a reckless, extravagant, domineering class, with the tyrannical habits of conquerors by the sword, and the insolent manners of slave-drivers. The descendants of the Cromwellian landowners became, says Mr. Goldwin Smith, probably the very worst upper class with which a country was every afflicted; their drunkenness, their blasphemy, their ferocious duelling, left the squires of England far behind; they had prisons in their houses for the punishment of the lower orders; and not a century has passed, he adds, since these ruffians and tyrants filled, in Ireland, the seat of justice . 2 The condi¬ tion of the country during the Penal times could hardly be con¬ ceived, if we had not on record the testimony of educated and thought¬ ful men who visited Ireland at that period and left in works of high authority singularly vivid descriptions of the scenes they witnessed. Arthur Young was filled with indignation when he considered the relations existing between the Protestant proprietors and their Catholic slaves. “A landlord in Ireland,” he says, “can scarcely invent an order which a servant, labourer, or cottar, dares to refuse to execute. Nothing satisfies him but unlimited submission ; disrespect, or any¬ thing tending towards sauciness, he may punish with his cane or his horsewhip, with the most perfect security ; a poor man would have 1 Old title deeds were treasured with jealous care by these inheritors of ancient names, and maps of ancestral possessions were laid by in the hope that others beside “the king ” should “ have their own again.” The Rev. Horatio Townshend remarks “ that the Danes at no very distant period, are reported to have had similar maps, and, on every marriage contract, to have settled an Irish portion on their children.—“ Statistical Survey of the county of Cork” (1810), p. 96. 2 “ Irish History and Irish Character.” PENAL DAYS. 39 his bones broken if he offered to lift his hand in his own defence ; knocking down is spoken of in the country in a manner that makes an"Englishman stare. It must strike the most careless traveller, to see whole strings of cars whipped into a ditch by a gentleman’s foot¬ man, to make way for his carriage; if they are overturned or broken in pieces, no matter, it is taken in patience; were they to complain, they would, perhaps, be horsewhipped. The execution of the laws lies very much in the hands of the justices of the peace, many of whom are drawn from the most illiberal class in the kingdom. If a poor man lodges his complaint against a gentleman, and the justice issues a summons for his appearance, it is a fixed affront, and he will infallibly be called out. Where manners are in conspiracy against law , to whom are the oppressed people to have recourse ?” 1 The isolated position in which most of these country gentry lived was a great hindrance to their reformation. Whatever chance there might be in towns or populous neighbourhoods of occasional approach to friendly relations between the domineering Protestants and the victimised Catholics, there was none whatever in the country parts, where no opportunity was afforded of kindly intercourse, and no public opinion existed that might hold the oppressor in check. Market towns were few, roads were almost impracticable, post-offices were perhaps thirty or forty miles away from a gentleman’s seat. What¬ ever was required by the family and its retainers should be produced on the land, or stored in large quantities on the premises. The estab¬ lishment was supported on a vast scale ; a multitude of servants were kept; troops of horses ran half wild through the fields ; rude profusion prevailed in every department. The Cromwellian settlers and their immediate descendants lived in the mansions from which the Catholic nobility and gentry had been expelled ; but after some time these tenements fell into ruin, and, whether from want of money, or through reckless indifference, the proprietors took little pains to house them¬ selves decently. Arthur Young says that, thirty years before he visited Ireland, there were hardly ten houses in the country fit for an English pig, but that lately a great number of houses had been begun on a grand scale, and that gardens of proportionate extent were being enclosed. We may suppose that after some five or ten or twenty Irish acres had been walled in to form a garden, there would not be much money left for stocking the horticultural domain. At any rate, the mansions so grandly designed were oftentimes ruined before they were roofed. The owners got into difficulties ; they were “ obliged to sell an estate to pay for a house ; or at best, they lived in debt, danger, and subterfuge the rest of their days, nominally possessors of a palace, but really in dread of a jail. Others ‘ mistook reverse of 1 “Agricultural Tour in Ireland,” 1776-1779. 4 ° INTRODUCTION. wrong for rightmarking these misfortunes, they determined never to build; so they lived on in wretched houses out of repair, with locks of doors out of order, the pulleys of windows without sash-line p in short, without what we are accustomed to consider as the common comforts and decencies of life. Others shunned these extremes ; but without keeping the safe middle course, they struck out a new half¬ way mode of going wrong ; these would neither build a palace nor live in a hovel; but they planned the palace, built offices to suit, then turned stable and coach-house into their dwelling-house, or provisional residence for the remainder of their days, leaving the rest to fate and to their sons.” 1 One of the most disastrous consequences of the Penal system was the barrier it set up between the new settlers and the ancient inhabi¬ tants, whether old English or native Irish. Antagonism of race was intensified by religious animosity ; power, honour, wealth, were the prerogative of the Protestant few who formed the garrison in the enemy’s country, looked upon Irish Papists as creatures of another species, and shunned social contact with them as if association with the degraded race entailed contamination. 11 Sure I am,” says Edmund Burke, “ that there have been thousands in Ireland who have never conversed with a Roman Catholic in their whole lives, unless they happened to talk to their gardener’s workmen, or to ask their way, when they had lost it, in their sports ; or at best, who had known them only as footmen or other domestics of the second or third order : and so averse were they, some time ago, to have them near their persons, that they would not employ even those who could never find their way beyond the stable.” 2 Had it not been for this atrocious code, the Cromwellian troopers and the Williamite settlers would have amalgamated with the old inhabitants ; or, at any rate, their immediate descendants would have been hardly distinguishable from the purely native growth around them. Even as it was the tendency to fraternise appeared so decided, that strong measures had to be taken at the outset to prevent the soldier settlers allying them¬ selves with their Irish neighbours; dragoons marrying Irishwomen were reduced to foot soldiers, and foot soldiers to pioneers ; and if after they had been disbanded they offended in this way, they were liable to have their “ idolatrous ” wives taken from them, or to march after them to Connaught. Ireton forbade his officers to marry Irish¬ women under pain of being cashiered : and yet, in spite of all this, Mr. Prendergast tells us, many of the children of Cromwell’s soldiers could not speak one word of English, and five years after their planting the settlers had Irish harpers in their houses. It was the 1 “ Memoir of Richard Lovell Edgworth,” vol. ii., pp. 6, 7. 2 Letter to Sir H. Langrishe, M.P. PENAL DAYS. 41 same with the families of King William’s soldiers who sat dowm in Ireland. Nothing, in short, but the “vicious perfection” of the Penal Code could have retarded the fusion of the tw r o races dwelling in the same land, and compelled them to maintain no other relations than those produced by hatred and contempt, misunderstanding and exasperation. So complete was the debasement of the Irish Catholics in the time of Dean Swift, that he did not hesitate to class Papists with women and children in the scale of political importance ; and the law, while relentlessly pursuing them into every department of social life, and every sanctuary of domestic peace, declined to acknowledge their existence. In 1754, the Lord Chancellor declared in public court that the law did not presume a Papist to exist in the kingdom, nor could he breathe without the connivance of the Government. But attempts to exterminate a nation are as senseless as were the efforts of Sydney Smith’s old woman to sweep out the ocean tide with a broom. No matter what was done, the Irish would not cease to be ; they were trampled into the dust—they and their religion—but they sprang up again, religion and all, like the grass and the shamrocks. Lord Deputy Chichester, as early as in 1607, was at his wit’s end about this Irish question, and avowed his belief that “the very soil was infected with Popery.” One hundred and fifty years later, after Cromwell and William and the Penal Laws had done their worst in Ireland, Dr. Campbell declared that “ no Englishman can conceive the virulence of Irish Popery.” 1 To such an extent did the Irish people multiply in the days of their affliction, that the guardians of the Protestant interest became seriously alarmed. At that rate of progression it was plain the Catholic population would be quadrupled in the course of a century. It was absolutely necessary to convert them, since they could not be destroyed; and by the introduction of the Charter School system, the proselytising fire w T as opened on the Catholics. But it was all labour in vain ; the Irish were as obstinate in this as in everything else : they could neither be cajoled nor dragooned into Protestantism. Nay more, with sublime irony they contrived to entice away many of the true English religion. “We are daily losing,” says Primate Boulter, “ several of our meaner people, who go off to Popery.” More steam was therefore got up, and new engines of conversion were put in motion : with, however, the usual result. The proselytes were so few that it was calculated it would take 4,000 years to convert the Irish. The great mass of the people showed all through a truly heroic spirit. They were inaccessible to bribery ; they were deaf to persua¬ sion ; nothing could induce them to give up the religion of their 1 “Philosophical Survey of the South of Ireland.” 42 INTRODUCTION. fathers, to forsake the Soggarth Aroon, to forfeit their heavenly inheri¬ tance. Their sufferings, in some respects, might be paralleled in degenerate empires where slavery existed without control; but in other respects, their condition could hardly be matched in any state of society, Pagan or Christian. While they were as truly bondsmen as the purchased negro, they were denied the care which the slave- master bestows on his human live-stock. They were poorly fed, scantily clothed, and miserably housed. Dr. Day, the eccentric philanthropist, who, like many in his time, had taken up Rousseau’s notions of the blessedness of man in a primitive state of society, found his prejudices in favour of savage life somewhat shaken on seeing the Irish peasant in his home. 1 Naturally enough, perhaps, those who had reduced the peasant to so deplorable a condition affected to regard him as the last of human kind, exaggerated his failings, reproached him with the vices their own conduct had generated, and made a laughing-stock of his distress. M. de Latocnaye, a French emigre, who made a journey in Ireland about the year 1796, noticed the prevalence of this unmanly disposi¬ tion. The people, whose misery he witnessed, were described to him as lazy, idle, indolent, and so on through the usual vocabulary ; but he discovered that their wages were sixpence a day, and that they received neither aid nor encouragement to better their condition. “ What,” he asks, “ would be the use of industry under such circum¬ stances ? Their misery is so great that all becomes indifferent to them. But, supply them with the means of raising themselves from this abject state, give them a taste for the comforts of life, and you will soon see what sort of men these are whom you now upbraid with laziness and indolence.” In strong language he denounces the hard¬ heartedness which finds in the spectacle of another’s wretchedness a fit subject of derision : “ Maudit soit l’homme cruel qui le premier osa se faire un jeu de la mis&re de son semblable : c’est une ruse effroyable de l’avarice, car aussitot que 1’on a ri du mal d’autrui, on se croit dispense de le secourir.” 2 1 In concluding his “Account of Ireland, Statistical and Political,” Mr. "Wakefield speaks as follows :—“ The reader will discover, throughout the preceding pages, such various gradations of misery as he could not have supposed possible to exist, even among the most barbarous nations. Man is exhibited to his view as oppressed and insulted ; he will perceive the hand of tyranny pressing on him, heavily and unsparingly, and find an accumulation of human beings, without any other use than for the accumulation of wretch¬ edness. He will find him hunted from the vale to the mountain top, to shelter in the rude caverns and rocks, from his brother Christian, the politically orthodox believer in the humble author of their common faith. Yet, amongst all these evils, he will still recognise the genius of the people like a bright star in a tempestuous and gloomy horizon,” &c. &c. Miss Edgeworth says that Arthur Young was the first who gave a faithful picture of the people of Ireland ; and it is acknowledged that Wakefield’s book is the best on the subject after Young’s. Both writers were Englishmen. 2 “Promenade d’un Fra^ais dans l’lrlande (1797).” PENAL DAYS. 43 Another dispassionate observer, writing at a later date, notes the cause of the servility and duplicity with which, in common with lazi¬ ness and idleness, the lower class of the Irish were reproached. “ They have long been in the habit,” says the Rev. Horatio Townsend “of paying submissive deference to their superiors; every person calling himself a gentleman not only expected immediate obedience to his mandate, but often for the most trifling offence, and sometimes for no offence at all, inflicted manual punishment without the smallest apprehension of resistance on the part of the sufferer. One conse¬ quence of this treatment ” he continues, “was the servility of mind, which abject dependence always inspires. He that cannot throw off his servitude must endeavour to soften it; he will flatter where he despises, and profess attachment where he feels abhorrence. Accus¬ tomed to disguise his sentiments, and speak the language of falsehood, adulation and insincerity will at length become a part of his character. Thus nature may be reproached for faults which were the offspring of situation and habit.” 1 2 The Irish are incurably turbulent—they are never content— complained the rack-renting landlords. But the author of the “ Philosophical Survey ” supplies the answer in a phrase : “ we make them poor and unhappy,” he says, “and then we wonder that they are so prone to tumult and disorder.” The Tories (descendants of men of substance who had fled into desert places to escape being butchered or transplanted), the Rapparees and Whiteboys (associa¬ tions of peasants driven mad by the injustice of the law and the tyranny of the landlords), disturbed now and then the peace of the law-protected gentry. The three kingdoms rang with the story of the crimes committed by these Irish outlaws. No proclamation reached the great world of the intolerable sufferings inflicted on the native population, save now and again in the unerring shot that laid the oppressor low, and in the lurid light his burning mansion flung across the moor.2 Thus, from the date of the infraction of the Treaty of Limerick 1 “ Statistical Survey of the county of Cork.” pp. 96, 97. 2 “With such characteristical dispositions as the Irish are proved to possess,’writes Bishop Milner, “ it is not in the nature of things that they should be, upon the whole an immoral people ; and yet I am prepared to meet with a great number of villains, and those of the most hardened class among them. First, experience shows that there are a great many wretches of this description in every nation under the sun, no advantage of disposition or education being at all times able to stem the tide of human passions. Secondly, the example which the Irish have seen amongst our countrymen for ages past, the treatment which they have experienced at their hands, and the laws to which they have been subjected by them, have all been calculated to eradicate every moral and humane feeling from their breasts, and cannot but have produced a bad effect upon a certain number of them.”—“Inquiry into certain vulgar opinions concerning the Catholic Inhabitants and the Antiquities of Ireland ”(1808), p. 65. 44 INTRODUCTION. down to a late period in the following century, the penal code held its sway unchecked : corrupting the integrity and stultifying the conscience of the privileged classes, and doing all that a barbarous legislation could do, to brutalise the lower population. To quote Edmund Burke once more : “ Where the laws were not bloody they were worse ; they were slow, cruel, and outrageous in their nature, and kept men alive only to insult in their persons every one of the rights and feelings of humanity.” III. Deprived though the Irish people were of political existence, and reduced in the social scale to a condition which made them the object of wanton insult and habitual contempt, they nevertheless preserved a marvellous vitality. Hidden away in their ignominous seclusion, they cherished vivifying qualities which saved them from extinction, and enabled them to spring again into life once the penal pressure was relaxed. That body and soul held together, despite the crushing calamities which overwhelmed the nation, is a strange fact in history. But the reasons are not far to seek. A great deal was due to the hardiness and elasticity of the Irish nature ; to the healthy conditions of family life ; to the tenacity with which the people clung to ancient usages and maintained their reverence for worthy ideals ; to the poetic temperament which mastered sorrow by giving it voice in language rigidly measured, yet intensely expressive; to the intellectual vivacity which disposed them to throw with ease their interest into remote concerns ; and to the spiritual cast of their mind which, when cus¬ tomary joys and earthly hopes had vanished, supplied an assuagement that would have had no power to comfort a grosser nature. Further¬ more, the courage of the people was sustained at high pressure by the consciousness that they suffered in a good cause—for their nation, and for their religion. And lastly, the constant intercourse they carried on with foreign countries—an intercourse rendered practicable by cir¬ cumstances over which, so to say, the penal code had no control— freshened the atmosphere in which they lived; kept them from losing self-respect in their daily relations with insolent oppressors ; and pro¬ vided for the Gaelic spirit an outlet which the law-makers hardly imagined to exist, and which they could no more close up than they could shut out the sky that spread its cloud-tracked dome above the island. In bodily habit the Irish were always remarkably strong, agile, and enduring. Their swiftness of foot astonished the Anglo-Normans, whose fleetest horsemen could not overtake them ; and in the Conti¬ nental wars, many centuries later, the enemy remarked the same PENAL DAYS. 45 quality, and wondered to see how the Irish soldiers ran.—“ But well- a-day,” as the song says, “ 'twas after them” they ran. An old his¬ torian, Stanihurst, remarks that of all men the Irish are the “ most patient in suffering, and rarely overcome by sufferings.” Spenser notes that they are “ great indurers of cold, labour, hunger, and all hardnesse.” “As for abstinence and fasting, which these days make so dangerous,” writes Campion, “ this is to them a familiar kind of chastisement;” and he adds that the same, that is, the Irish people, “ being virtuously brought up or reformed, are such mirrours of holi¬ ness and austeritie, that other nations retaine but a shewe or shadow of devotion in comparison to them.” And M. de Latocnaye, observ¬ ing the customs of the descendants of those “ mirrours of austeritie,” says that the way the fasts are kept in Ireland is really frightful. In fact the Irish, from remote times, were trained to hardiness. It was part of the moral and physical discipline all had to undergo. “ The severities of climate they conquered by habit,” writes Charles O'Conor in his “ Dissertations on the Ancient History of Ireland ;” “ and those of famine they encountered by an abstinence practised from infancy. These conquests over themselves entered into the manners of the nation.” 1 “In Ireland,” observes Mr. Wakefield, “man resembles not the dull and insensible Laplander, or the indolent and placid native of an eastern climate : he has a soul that kindles quickly, and a body that labour cannot destroy.” Such a people were not likely to sell their pearl of price for a mess of pottage, or to let their spirit sink utterly in the presence of temporal disaster. So stringent and searching were the laws against education, that it seemed impossible for the Catholics to elude the doom of ignorance to which the code condemned them. By an Act of William III., no Protestant in Ireland was allowed to instruct any Papist; and by an Act of Anne, no Papist was allowed to instruct any other Papist. Schoolmasters were hunted like the priests. 2 It was forbidden to go abroad for education ; and anyone who did so incurred a forfeiture of 1 Referring to the training given in early times to the governing classes of Erin, the writer has the following passage:—“They began with the education of youth in their early infancy, by taking them off from all habits of idleness, and training them to laborious exer¬ cises of body and mind; on the one side, shooting, running, wrestling, performing martial evolutions, sustaining fatigues, and sometimes the rigour of hunger and cold; on the other, they made them try their strength of genius in poetry, which took in all subjects ; initiated them in the mysteries of artful diction and powers of true eloquence. All or most of these things were absolutely necessary to young princes, to the candidates for magistracy, and to the Ollavain, who, although ever so well qualified by descent, were set aside from the dig¬ nities of government, and even of their particular families, unless they could prove their title H great talents, martial and literary.”—“Dissertations,” &c. First Edition (1753). 2 Anyone who wishes to have a true and vivid picture of Ireland in the penal days, and to verify instances of the hunting of priests and schoolmasters, should read the 2nd vol. of Mr. Lecky’s “ History of England in the Eighteenth Century.” Mr. Lecky’s authorities are, for the most part, taken from original documents lately rendered accessible in the Irish Record 4 6 INTRODUCTION. all right to property present or prospective, as also did the person who made any remittance of money or goods for the maintenance of any Irish child educated in a foreign country. But here the old love of learning stimulated the Irish, and made them fertile in resource. Gentlemen’s sons were sent to the sea-ports, provided with indentures of apprenticeship to friendly merchants, who took care of them, watched for a safe opportunity, and despatched them, ostensibly on commercial business, to a foreign port, whence they made their way to the college in which they were to receive their education. Or, they got down to the remote parts of the coast, and were taken off by the smugglers, who anchored under the shadow of the sea-washed headlands to exchange at their leisure a cargo of clarets and brandies for the wool which the Irish were prohibited from exporting to Eng¬ land, and forbidden to manufacture into saleable goods at home. Aspirants to the priesthood embarked with the “ wild geese ”—the re¬ cruits for the Irish Brigade—in a like hazardous fashion : or got away in fishing-boats frequenting these coasts ; and were satisfied if landed anywhere on the Continent, being fully prepared to trudge across mountain and plain with their faces turned towards Santiago or Sala¬ manca, Lisbon or Louvain. The return home was effected through the same friendly agency. Priests, friars, and the alumni of the secular colleges were smuggled into their native island with the rest of the contraband freight. Scholars of humbler rank, and others who could not reach the Continent, repaired to the hedge schools for instruction. It was the pursuit of knowledge under difficulties. Master and scholars assembled in the safest spot they could find: on the sheltered side of a hedge, in a dry ditch, or on the edge of a wood, and worked away at the three R.’s, the classics, and their native tongue, prepared in dangerous times to hide their books and disperse over the country at a moment’s notice. The hunted schoolmaster had one chance more than the hunted priest; for while the latter dared not fly from the altar, the pedagogue had only to throw his Horace into a thorn bush, walk away with his hands in his pockets, and devote his attention to farming operations in adjacent fields. This open-air school system was not felt as too great a hardship by people who were denied the shelter of a roof when they gathered round the altar of their God; and, besides, out-of-door studies had been the rule in the good old times : their great saints and great scholars, and the foreign youths who flocked to the classes of the famous teachers, had made their studies under the vault of heaven, only amid more peaceful surroundings. Dr. Newman, speaking in his “ Historical Sketches,” of the ancient Irish, says : “ It Office, and the Irish State Paper Office. In fact, he has done for this period of Irish history what the Rev. George Hill and Mr. Prendergast have respectively done for the eras of the Ulster Plantation and the Cromwellian settlement. PENAL DAYS. 47 is impossible not to admire and venerate a race which displayed such inextinguishable love of science and letters.” 1 Their descendants in the eighteenth century manifested the same noble ardour, and are entitled to the same esteem. And, what is worthy of remark, the peasantry imbibed the same taste as their social superiors, and became athirst for a kind of knowledge which it was almost impossible they ever could turn to practical account. The Munster people excelled all others in taste for learning, and Kerry was believed to have the best schools. Thither resorted students from other parts to share the advantages enjoyed by the young mountaineers. The “ ditches full of scholars,” which Arthur Young tells us he often saw in his travels through Ireland, had many lads among them, who, when they had got enough Latin, meant to sail away, and read their theology on the Con¬ tinent. Munster, in fact, was a sort of preparatory school for Sala¬ manca. In those days Latin was freely spoken, especially in Kerry. Boys were often met with on the lonely hill-sides conning their Homer, and runners and stable-boys in the service of the Protestant gentry could quote for you a verse of Horace, or season their remarks with a line from Virgil. Dr. Smith, in his “ History of Kerry,” observes that classical reading “ extends itself even to a fault among the lower orders in Ireland, many of whom have a greater knowledge in that way than some of the better sort in other places.” It was from the wild coasts of Cork and Kerry that the greater number of students were shipped off, and the largest migration of “wild geese” took place. The bays, stretching inland for miles, indented with safe creeks, guarded by precipitous mountains, and protected by outposts of islands, seemed to have been specially de¬ signed by nature for this service. It would have required an army to watch the approaches on the land side through morasses and intricate mountain-paths ; and the navy of England had other work to do than cruise in these western waters, give chase to swift smugglers, French corvettes, and Spanish privateers, and board the fleets of boats that dexterously combined fishing and smuggling. A sloop of war might ride in Bantry Bay or in the Kenmare river, but the tidy fishing smacks, with their freight of outlawed Papists and contraband goods, could meanwhile run safely up to Glengariff or hide in Adrigoole. Should a hostile vessel enter at one end of Valencia harbour, the foreign sail could instantly heave up the anchor and scud away by the off-side of the island, which forms a breakwater there for the rolling surge. Moreover, service on that coast was eminently dangerous to British mariners ; for lawless dwellers on the heights, looking out for suspicious sail, made no scruple to decoy them on the rocks, and were as expert, or nearly so, in this atrocious work as were the wreckers of Brittany, or Cornwall, or Northumberland. 1 Article on the Northmen and Normans in England and Ireland. 48 INTRODUCTION. By whatsoever way the recruiting officers—Irish gentlemen in the service of France—entered the kingdom, they usually contrived to reach their destination in the interior, where they were certain to meet with little difficulty in enlisting men for the Brigade. Irish lads gladly followed the officers whose name and family they held in respect, and were more than willing to “ serve the foe of Ireland’s foe,” on any battlefield in the world. The difficulty was to get them away in twos and threes, and muster them on the landward slope of one of those western mountains, preparatory to a march over the heights. But one way or another it was done. The “ wild geese ” flock to the rendezvous ; trusty guides lead the way along hardly perceptible tracks; by sundown they are safe from pursuit, and have only the difficulties of the slippery ascent to face. Onward they go, leaping over the torrents in the way, listening for the dash of the waterfall whose waving silver line is by day a landmark on the route, and skirting the fern-fringed lough in whose motionless depth shines the pale face of a belated star. With dawn the broad-winged sea¬ bird floats inland, the heron alights in the pool. By-and-by a fresh¬ ening breeze announces that the Atlantic is near, and presently, turning the shoulder of a mountain, the wayfarers behold spread out beneath them the bay on which the sun is pouring down a shower of golden rays, while the morning mists are rolling off to seaward. With strange emotion they descry, rocking in the shadow of the headland, the boat with flapping sails waiting to take them off to the trim vessel anchored in the roadstead. At evening watch they are leagues from shore ; silence follows the lively talk on deck, and a meditative mood succeeds. The exiles look out now beyond their comrades’ faces ; on the one hand they see the sun going down behind broad bars of purple and gold ; on the other lies a waste of water with an undulating line of blue upon the vanishing horizon. The Irish lads may yet see, many a time, the sun set gloriously, dropping in a sea of fire behind an Alpine ridge, or sinking in splendour beneath some featureless northern plain ; but the faint blue li ne —the holy hills of Ireland—they never again shall see, except in dreams. Regimented and officered according to their nationality, the Irish soldiers could not, even if they had been willing, forget their native land. The word of command was given in the dear old Gaelic ; their native music inspirited the troops; they marched into the field to decide the fate of battles to the tune of “ The White Cockade when their comrades fell around them, and their spirits sank in thinking of their loss, “St. Patrick’s Day,” struck up by the regimental band, gave them heart once more. 1 The Abbe MacGeoghegan had T “ They (the Irish soldiers) refused to march to the French tunes, and on all military occasions insisted on the use of their national airs—a gratification that was conceded to PENAL DAYS. 49 the Irish soldiers in his mind when he wrote his “ History of Ireland,” and he dedicated that work to the Brigade. Catechisms were supplied to them from the Irish printing-presses of the foreign convents, priests from the Irish colleges gave them missions ; and friars of their own nation accompanied them to the field, heedless of the balls that sometimes laid them low beside the wounded of the rank and file. Strange scenes relieved the tragic drama of the field when the Irish soldiers of the Brigade recognised countrymen of their own in the English regiments serving in the hostile armies. No unexpected meeting was this on the side of the poor fellows who shouldered the guns of the High Allies. Their sole object when, pretending to be Protestants, they enlisted in the British army was to get out to the Continent, and desert to the side which had all their sympathy on the first opportunity that should offer. No mere mercenaries were these soldiers of Louis of France or Philip of Spain. “Driven by iniqui¬ tous laws against their religion to take service under the banners of Catholic sovereigns, they reflected honour on their native land, and signalised themselves by bravery and fidelity which could not be excelled. Officered by the representatives of those chieftains who had forfeited everything, 4 save honour/ for their faith, the humblest soldier who marched in those battalions was animated by the same spirit that impelled the O’Neills and O’Donnells to forsake a country where they dared not worship God according to the custom of their fathers. In fact, their love of their religion gave them an indivi¬ duality that cannot be found in any other people. Unlike the hire¬ ling gladiators who fought for pay, irrespective of any other considera¬ tion, the soldiers of the Irish Brigades are invariably found under the banners of those sovereigns who not only professed their creed, but also provided colleges and altars for their persecuted and exiled priesthood. Follow them where you will—from Deventer to Fontenoy, from Louvain to Frankfort—the love of their religion is just as conspi¬ cuous as their gallantry is undoubted.” 1 Their bones were left to moulder in soldiers’ graves on the battlefields of Italy and Spain, in the trenches of French Flanders, and on the banks of the Danube and the Rhine. Surely it was a better fate for those military exiles to fall in the fierce onslaught, and rest with gallant comrades in distant “ unhereditary graveyards ” than to perish of famine or plague in Erin and swell the fevered sod round the desecrated abbeys of their own land. Probably no calculation has ever been made of the total them, though the same favour was denied to the Swiss. For this, however, there was a reason: the music of the Banz des Vaches awoke in the breast of the latter such a passionate longing for home, that it often led to desertion; whilst in the poor Irishman, whose home was lost to him, no such danger was to be feared.”—“ Life of Samuel Lover,” vol. ii., p. 11. i Preface to Matthew O’Conor’s “ Military Histoiy of the Irish Nation.” (Duffy’s edition.) 5 50 INTRODUCTION. number of Irishmen who died in the service of continental states during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, but the Abbe Mac Geoghegan states that, from calculations and researches made at the war office, it was ascertained that from the arrival of the Irish troops in France, in 1691 to 1745, the year of the battle of Fontenoy, more than 450,000 Irishmen died in the service of France. As for the native Irish nobility and gentry, they took full advan¬ tage of the honourable career opened to them in the service of conti¬ nental sovereigns. All the great Milesian families, and nearly all the families of the old English of Ireland, had relatives in the service of some European emperor or king. At one time, it is said, there were more than thirty Irishmen general officers in the Austrian service. There were Rothes, Lacys, Brownes, O’Dwyers, and O’Rourkes, in Russia ; MacCarthys in Portugal; O’Dowdas in Venice ; Os and Macs too numerous to mention in Spain and France. 1 “ There were, indeed Irish Roman Catholics of great ability, energy, and ambition,” writes Lord Macaulay, “but they were to be found everywhere except in Ireland : at Versailles, and at St. Ildefonso, in the armies of Frederick, and in the armies of Maria Teresa. One exile became a marshal of France, another became Prime Minister of Spain. If he had stayed in his native land he would have been regarded as an inferior by all the ignorant and worthless squireens who drank the glorious and immortal memory. In his palace at Madrid he had the pleasure of being assiduously courted by the ambassador of George II., and of bidding defiance to the ambassador of George III. Scattered over all Europe were to be found brave Irish generals, dexterous Irish diplomatists, Irish counts, Irish barons, Irish knights of St. Louis and of St. Leopold, of the White Eagle, and of the Golden Fleece, who, if they had remained in the house of bondage, could not have been ensigns of marching regiments, or freemen of petty corporations.” Many of the Irish officers married into families of distinction on the Continent, kept up friendly intercourse with their relatives in the old land, taught their children to cherish a lively affection for the island of the 1 Mr. Lecky devotes some pages of his recently published history to a review of the Irish element which was so conspicuous during the last century in the continental armies and at foreign courts. Thus he says: “Among Spanish generals the names of O’Mahony, O’Donnell, O’Gara, O’Reilly, and O’Neill, sufficiently attest their nationality, and an Irish Jacobite, named Cammock, was conspicuous among the admirals of Alberoni. Wall, who directed the government of Spain with singular ability from 1754 to 1762, was an Irishman, if not by birth, at least by parentage.The physician of Sobiesky, King of Poland, and the physician of Philip V. of Spain were both Irish, and an Irish naturalist, named Bowles, was active in reviving the mining industry of Spain in 1752. In the diplomacy of the Continent Irish names are not unknown. Tyrconnel was French ambas¬ sador at the court of Berlin. Wall, before he became chief minister of Spain, had repre¬ sented that country at the court of London. Lacy was Spanish ambassador at Stockholm, and O’Mahony at Vienna.”—“ History of England in the Eighteenth Century,” pp. 262-264. PENAL DAYS. 51 Gael, and stretched out a helpful hand to young men of the nation who might have to seek their fortune abroad. The Irish element thus introduced in foreign armies had a most important effect on the tide of battle and the issue of campaigns. It was said in the English House of Commons that more injury was done by those exiles to England and her allies than if all the Irish Catholics had been left in the possession of their estates in Ireland. The effect of all this on the Catholics gentle and simple at home can well be imagined. They had constant intelligence of what was going on in the great world, and took the liveliest interest in military affairs and the policy of states. In the dilapidated mansions of the impoverished gentry, in the cabins of the peasantry, among the delvers and ditchers in the fields, on board the hookers tossing on the weaves, you might hear the manoeuvres of warlike hosts and the fortunes of rival dynasties discussed. In their hearts the Irish acknowledged no allegiance except to the exiled Stuarts ; they talked of James II., “the descendant of the renowned Milesians,” as if they had known him personally; the Pretender was, in their parlance, “the son of the king,” and they had a fellow-feeling with the prince who would not give up his religion for the crown of the British isles. Maria d’Este was the object of a romantically loyal devotion, and one of the native poets composed a “ Lament for the Queen,” on the occasion of her death. The Irish poetry of the eighteenth century is full of the allusions to the interests and events of the time. The songs are about “the nobles of Spain,” as the recruiting officers w r ere called; about Louis and his stately ships sailing in pride o’er the sea ; about lovers who went to France and never would return ; about maidens who sell their rock, and sell their reel, and sell their only spinning-wheel, to buy their love a sword of steel. “ Whatever,” says Samuel Johnson, “ withdraws us from the power of the senses—whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future, predominate over the present—advances us in the dignity of human beings.” From this point of view, therefore, as well as from others, it was a blessing for the Irish that their foreign relations were, in those days, so extensive and of such absorbing interest. The author of the “ Historical Survey of the South of Ireland ” makes a curious remark in reference to the peasantry of Munster, whom he found, in spite of their poverty, quite divested of the sim¬ plicity of the shepherd state. “ These peasants,” he observes, “ have no sheepishness about them, are under no embarrassment w r hen you speak to them, seem never at a loss, and are blessed with an abrupt and sudden promptitude of reply.” He accounts for the contrast between the intelligence of these poor men and the “surly awkward¬ ness of our English clowns,” by supposing that the latter, being intent upon their own proper affairs, are not at the expense of thinking upon 52 INTRODUCTION. other subjects ; whereas these poor men, having neither labour nor trade to engage their attention, are more occupied with other people’s affairs than their own. Dr. Campbell appears never to have noticed the existence of the foreign element in the home life of the Irish Catholics. Nor does its influence appear to have been recognised by Mr. Trotter, who, travelling through Ireland at a much later period, and mixing much with the people, noticed their aptitude for discussing warlike subjects. “ The military genius of this surprising people,” he remarks, “is often seen breaking forth in the lowest classes,” whom he had heard analysing “ with contemptuous coolness and wonderful sagacity the exploits and violences committed against them.” “War,” he continues, “ is the darling theme of the Irishman—the difficulties of a siege, a daring enterprise, rapid expeditions through the country, and all the varieties of a campaign he relishes, understands, and shows he could well bear his part in them if opportunity occurred.” 1 France was regarded by the Irish in the eighteenth century with the same admiration and gratitude that Spain had attracted in earlier times. Not that Spain was loved the less ; but circumstances had made intercourse with France at that period more constant and more intimate. In each of those great kingdoms the Irish exile was made welcome. He became a naturalised subject of his Catholic majesty the moment he set his foot on the soil of Spain ; and, on landing in France, he enjoyed a like privilege, and was placed by the fact on the same equality with the king’s other subjects. The dream of the Irish in the last century was that deliverance would come to them through France. 2 Mr. Gladstone, referring on a recent occasion to the Ireland of the last century, observed that a state of things prevailed in the island a hundred years ago, which “ we all look back upon now with pain and shame,” and admit to have been intolerable; “and many of us,” he adds, “ would say that if there had been any tolerably clean-handed Power able to interfere, and able to right the wrongs of Ireland, that Power would have deserved the gratitude of mankind.” 3 Indeed, no one at the present day sees anything mysterious in the attraction which drew the Irish people towards the Catholic nations of Europe. They had had their foreign relations, and generally of a friendly kind, before their sufferings on account of religion properly speaking began ; but when persecution on a gigantic scale was inaugurated, these ties i John Bemai'd Trotter, private secretary to Charles James Fox, published his “Walks through Ireland in 1812, 1814, and 1817 a very interesting account of the scenery of the country and of the character of the people. ~ See a curious instance of this expectancy in the notes to “ Legend Lays of Ireland,” by Lageniensis, p. 113. 3 Speech of Mr. Gladstone before the National Conference on the Eastern Ouestion, Dec. 8, 1876. PENAL DAYS. 53 became more closely drawn. Foreigner was in their language a word only applied to the English; continental manners and continental speech were a passport to their favour. “ The Irish are fond of strangers,” writes M. de la Boullaye le Gouz, who was travelling in Ireland when the great rebellion broke out, “ and it costs little to travel amongst them. They love the Spaniards as their brothers, the French as their friends, the Italians as their allies, the Germans as their relatives.” And he had himself experience of their preposses¬ sions in favour of continental strangers. On one occasion he was surrounded in the open country by a detachment of Irish soldiers ; but as soon as they learned he was a Frankard, and neither Sassenach nor English, they immediately made him offers of service. His countryman, M. de Latocnaye, whose tour was made in more peaceful times, could bear the same testimony; for, on entering the house of a poor family in the country, he was received with such special marks of kindness that he concluded they took him for an escaped French prisoner, and considered him entitled to their heartiest sympathy. Meanwhile, the privileged or Protestant class, keeping the Catholics at arm’s length, and taking not the slightest interest in their concerns, remained in surprising ignorance of all that was going on outside of their own contracted circle. Their stupid exclusiveness hoodwinked them completely. Dr. Smith, at the very time that the liveliest inter¬ course was carried on between the native Irish and the Catholic nations, speaks of “ the great remoteness of Ireland from the Conti¬ nent of Europe; ” and the philosopher, Dr. Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne, who, as became a member of the English interest was gravely apprehensive on the subject of impending war with Spain, and was organising a little army of some thirty good Protestants of Cloyne for the security of 'peaceable people in those dangerous times, was extremely surprised to find that the Papists, who, as he himself acknow¬ ledged, were eight to one of the Protestants in the province of Munster, had earlier intelligence of what was passing than the loyal members of the establishment. “ By what means (they got the intelligence) I know not; but the fact is certainly true,” wrote the worthy bishop to one of his correspondents. Had our oft-quoted friends, the two English gentlemen, called at the palace of Cloyne after instead of before their visit to Kinsale, they might possibly have helped the philosopher to a solution of the problem; for those intelli¬ gent tourists met an adventure while in that port, and had, as they believed, a narrow escape from being carried away to the peninsula in a Spanish privateer commanded by an Irishman named Brian, and having Irish sailors among the crew. By-and-by the American war broke out, and afforded another sub¬ ject of intense interest to the Irish of Ireland. There was, indeed, no military migration to the shores of the western continent; but there 54 INTRODUCTION. were Irishmen and sons of Irishmen in thousands in the republican ranks fighti ng with the heartiest good-will against the enemies of the old land and the tyrants of the new. Four-fifths of the Pensylvania line, Washington’s surest troop, were Irish, six colonels of the first regiments raised in Pensylvania being of the same nation. The Irish contingent amounted to 16,000 men, included in the different corps of the republican army; and these were not all Catholic Irish of the old stock ; there was among them a strong force of Protestants whose fathers had been forced to emigrate from Ulster when the woollen O trade of Ireland was sacrificed to the commercial interests of England. The father and mother of the Sullivans, whose services were so con¬ spicuous in the war of independence, were natives of the south of Ireland. Commodore Barry, the " father of the American Navy,” and the first to hoist afloat the flag of the Union, was born in Wexford. General Moylan, commander of the gallant dragoons, was a native of Cork. Charles Thompson, secretary to the first Congress, came from Derry. The first daily paper published in America was issued by John Dunlap of Strabane, printer to the first Congress, and owner of the press which first set in type the " Declaration of Independence.” Colonel John Nixon, an Irishman, read for the first time to the people from the centre window of the hall in which Congress met, this momentous Declaration, among the signers of which were nine men of Irish origin. Some men of that race gave valuable assistance in fram¬ ing the Constitution, and others had seats in the first Congress. The first governor of Pensylvania, after the adoption of the Federal Con¬ stitution, was a native of Dublin, George Bryan, who was mainly instrumental in procuring the passage of a law for the gradual aboli¬ tion of slavery in his adopted State.1 Pensylvania was in all its deparments strongly Irish. " It is a fact,” wrote Benjamin Franklin, in 1784, "that the Irish emigrants and their children are now in possession of the government of Pensylvania, by their majority in the assembly, as well as a great part of the territory; and I remember well the first ship that brought any of them over.” But, in point of fact, the Irish were everywhere throughout the States, and in every department of civil and military life, labouring with might and main in the cause of liberty. "Whilst the Irish emigrant,” says a good authority, " was fighting the battles of America by sea and land, the Irish merchants, particularly at Charlestown, Baltimore, and Phila¬ delphia, laboured with indefatigable zeal, and at all hazards, to promote the spirit of enterprise, to increase the wealth, and maintain the credit ’We take the above examples of the services which Irishmen or their descendants ren¬ dered to the Republic in the day of its trial and struggle from D’Arcy M'Gee’s “Irish Settlers in America,” a work overflowing with interesting matter, and written with the author’s usual clearness and grace. PENAL DAYS. 55 of the country; their purses were always open, and their persons devoted to the common cause. On more than one imminent occasion Congress owed their existence, and America, possibly, her preservation, to the fidelity and firmness of the Irish.” 1 Washington and other chiefs of the Republic tendered their acknow¬ ledgments to the distinguished Irishmen who lent their aid in the great struggle, and to the gallant troops of the same nation who bore the burden of the day of conflict and victory. Congress sent an address to the Irish people in 1775, expressing gratitude for the friendly dis¬ position they had shown towards the Republic, and avowing the sym¬ pathy felt by Americans for the sufferings of Ireland. In the shock caused by the American revolution, parties at home with whom obtuse¬ ness had been a virtue improved by cultivation, suddenly awoke to the perception of the influence the Irish had exercised on recent events. It was acknowledged in 1780 that America was lost in Ireland ; and Mr. Gardiner, afterwards Lord Mountjoy, remarked in the Irish Parlia¬ ment that England had America detached from her by force of Irish emigrants. But whether parties or parliaments recognised such facts or shut their eyes to their existence, the native race at home knew well the influence of the Irish element abroad, and in the midst of their degra¬ dation drew consolation from the thought of what their kith and kin accomplished in another sphere. The Cromwellian squire or the Williamite lord, as he walked along the high-road, might plume his vanity on the success a son or brother had obtained in the scuffle for place and pension at the viceroy’s court; but the poor Catholic gentle¬ man who trod the way in humbler guise, felt, no doubt, a prouder heart-beat while thinking of the distinction some scion of his house had won in the camp or in the court of a greater world. Among the good influences at work during the penal days, a high place must be given to that exercised in social life by the clergy, who, owing to the necessities of the time, lived domesticated with the people. The secular priests returned from their foreign colleges to the scene of their apostolic labours, and lived, when the times were sufficiently peaceful to allow of their doing so, dispersed in the obscure quarters of cities and towns, and in farm-houses throughout the country; while the friars, after going through their noviciate in the Dominican houses at Lisbon, Toledo, or Rome, or in the Franciscan convents of Italy, Germany, and Flanders, made their way to the ruins of the monasteries of their order, took up their abode, two or three together, in a thatched corner of choir or aisle ; or, failing this, built cabins for themselves within sight at least of the roofless church and the silent 1 See note in vol. ii. of the Marquess de Chastellux’s “ Travels in North America,” by the translator of the Dublin editions (1787), an English gentleman who resided in America at the period of the War of Independence. 56 INTRODUCTION. belfry, and waited until better times enabled them to take a farm and live on it without apprehension, while perhaps doing parish duty in their district. The bishops were fortunate when they possessed a modest thatched dwelling of their own in a retired part of their diocese, or an obscure quarter of the episcopal city. Dr. O’Gallagher, while Bishop of Raphoe, was obliged to seek refuge in one of the small islands of Lough Erne, where, dressed in peasant costume “ he secured, amongst the humble but trusty clansmen of the Gallacher sept, a secure asylum.” In this retreat he “re-wrote and prepared for the press the fragmentary sermons which he had from time to time preached in Irish to the flock entrusted to his pastoral charge.” When translated, in 1737, to Kildare, he lived in a village in the bog of Allen, and ordained on a hill some young priests whom he sent to finish their studies to France, Spain, or Italy. 1 2 Members of the lordly house of Butler who filled the archiepiscopal See of Cashel in the last century were poorly housed in the Galtee mountains, in the vicinity of their ancestral estates. Dr. James Butler, who died in his eighty-third year, in 1774, was “in his old age permitted to dwell quietly in a humble thatched cabin, which occupied the site of the present archiepiscopal residence in Thurles. Hitherto, almost uninterruptedly the Archbishops of Cashel had no fixed place of residence ; their pastorals and letters are all dated from our place of refuge? Dr. O’Callaghan of Ferns, though he resided in his diocese, had to assume the name of Walker, in order to conceal himself and to save his life ; while his successor, Dr. Sweet- man, did not escape so well, but was taken up and confined in the Castle of Dublin on a malicious charge of high treason during the administration of the Duke of Portland, in 1752. The primate, Dr. O’Reilly, who died in 1758, resided in a farmhouse near Drogheda, thereby enjoying a better position than his predecessor, Dr. Mac Mahon, who occupied a still humbler tenement, and went by the name of Mr. Ennis. 3 Bishop de Burgo, author of the “ Hibernia Dominicana,” dwelt in a lowly cottage near the ruins of St. John’s Abbey in Kilkenny. In 1757, there met by stealth in the castle of Trimbleston seven of the Catholic bishops to confer on matters of importance ; and tradition says that these prelates were clad in frieze like farmers, in order to conceal their ecclesiastical dignity. 4 All through these troubled times the bishops and clergy of Ireland received constant and liberal remittances from the Sovereign Pontiffs. “ In truth,” observes Dr. Renehan, “ some provisions of the kind must 1 See the memoir prefixed by the Rev. Canon Ulick J. Bourke to his edition of Dr. O’Gallagher’s sermons, lv. lx. 2 See Dr. Renehan’s “ Collections on Irish Church History,” vol. i., pp. 322-323. 3 See Stuart’s “ Historical Memoirs of the City of Armagh,” pp. 399-406. 4 See the “ Diocese of Meath,” vol. ii., p. 165 ; vol. iii., p. 670. PENAL DAYS. 57 have been made by the Holy See for the ministers of religion in this country, or else, humanly speaking, they would have died out within a few years—the very object at which the Government aimed in all their legislation. 1 These pensions were forwarded regularly from Rome until Pope Pius VII. was driven into exile; and the bounty of the Holy Father was distributed so discreetly, that few except the Irish bishops themselves seem to have been aware that such subsidies were received. 2 The priests were of necessity constantly on foot, or in less severe times on horseback ; they could not gather their flock around them ; they were obliged to go to the houses of their parishioners. The friars were often out “ questing.” All were heartily welcomed and hospitably entertained, whether at gentlemen’s houses few and far between, or in the more frequent farmers’ cottages. It was a rule that the priest should give an instruction to the family in whose house he put up for the night, and examine the children in the cate¬ chism. To the junior members of the household this part of the even¬ ing routine was not always the most agreeable, especially as the lesson in the catechism was likely to be supplemented by a few ques¬ tions in grammar : an association of sacred and secular studies sug¬ gested by the catechisms then in use, which, printed in the Gaelic character on the Continent, 3 w’ere provided not unfrequently in the form of an appendix, with a popular treatise on the vernacular tongue. But it was a rare delight to all when, the labour of the day well over, and the circle widened by the dropping in of neighbours great and small, the priest of the parish or Father Francis from the abbey, as the case might be, poured out his treasures of historic and legendary lore; went back to his college days in distant lands, described the manners and customs of great nations where the Catholics held their heads high, and the king and queen and all the nobility went to Mass ; and recounted with kindling eye the exploits of the soldiers of the brigade, and the story of the field where they perished. And as the good priest talked on, the listeners saw in the blazing turf long pilgrim processions arriving wdthin sight of the city of St. James ; or, in the broken lights and shadows cast upon the rafters, descried the wooded hills of Galicia, St. Isidoro on the Roman height, the spires of Brabant, the gates and towers of Seville. Meanwhile, the pensive¬ eyed girls heard these words set, as it were, to their favourite airs— “ The Blackbird,” and “ Shule Aroon and the martial youths matured their plans for fighting Almanza next day in the stubble-field, and de¬ fending Saragossa in the rath upon the hill. 1 “Collections on Irish Church History,” p. 302. 2 Iiid., p. 373-j note. 3 An interesting account of the books printed for the Irish in the 17th and 18th centuries, at Antwerp, Louvain, Paris, and Rome, will be found in Anderson’s “Historical Sketches of the Native Irish” (1828) section i. 58 INTRODUCTION. It was thought by Burke and others that this intimate association of the priests with the people was detrimental to the clergy, who lost, as it was supposed, in familiar intercourse with the unlettered a good deal of the culture which they had acquired in the course of their foreign education. However this may have been, there can be no doubt that the people benefited largely by the close relations into which pastor and flock were brought by the necessity of the times. “The Irish peasant,” says Dean Cogan, “shared his frugal fare with the priest, gave him his humble bed, and staked his life and the welfare of his family for his protection. The priest, in return, gave spiritual instruction to the household, offered the Holy Sacrifice for his benefactors, administered the sacraments, blessed the peasant’s home, and made his residence the tabernacle in which the Blessed Eucharist and the Holy Oils were sheltered for the salvation of the people.” Other sojourners by the domestic hearth there were who helped to keep the atmosphere fresh and genial. These were the school¬ masters and the itinerant musicians. The former were always con¬ sidered entitled to free quarters ; and when their scholastic avocations in the fields had been brought to a conclusion for the day, they with¬ drew to one humble household or another to join the evening cheer, and to rest for the night. Of course the harpers of repute were to be met with only in the houses of the gentry ; they enjoyed a good position in right of their profession, and generally were gentle¬ men by birth and education. Among them were descendants of the O’Neills; excellent Greek and Latin scholars; proficients in Irish history and antiquities ; and travelled men who had played before the Pretender in Edinburgh or Rome, and charmed with their native music the king of Spain in his court at Madrid. The Protestant gentry were as anxious as their Catholic neighbours to have the musi¬ cians tarry with them ; but we are told that, “ the harpers frequented mostly the houses of the old Irish families who had lost their titles, or were reduced more or less in their estates. When these minstrels appeared it was the signal for festivity among the young and old.” 1 It is not difficult to imagine the delight of the audience that gathered in these country houses to hear the harpers perform the lively planx- ties, the inspiring marches, the pathetic strains of “ the mother of sweet singers,” as Pope styled Erin. The power of the instrument when an accomplished hand swept the strings can be inferred from the praises that have been bestowed on it. Dante had an Irish harp, and he admired its construction, and observed that its makers had been unrivalled in its use for ages. “ No harp hath a sound so melting and prolonged as the Irish harp,” says Lord Bacon. “Such 1 Quoted from Dr. MacDonnell of Belfast, in “Conran’s National Music of Ireland,” p. 259. PENAL DAYS. 59 music before or since did I never hear,” remarks Evelyn, after listen¬ ing to the performance of his old friend, Clerk, an incomparable player on the Irish harp ; and the diarest adds that, in his judgment, the said instrument, which is neglected for its extraordinary difficulty, is “ far superior to the lute itself, or whatever speaks with strings.” As for the musical compositions of the Irish, it is enough to note that Handel said he would rather have been the composer of “ Aileen Aroon ” than of the music that had made him famous; that Haydn made a collection of Irish airs and was about to reset them when death called him to join the heavenly choir; that Beethoven loved these melodies and had many of them hung round his room. Assuredly the attachment of the Irish to their national melodies and their native harpers did not lessen when they remembered that the music and the poetry of the old land had long been under a ban with themselves. By the Statute of Kilkenny it had been made penal for the English settlers to “ entertain the bards, who perverted the imagination by romantic tales.” Henry VIII., though he commanded the harp, the emblem of Ireland, to be quartered in the arms of England, showed great hostility to the music and poetry of the Gael. 1 Elizabeth, albeit showing a decided preference for the Irish tunes, as performed at court galas, ferociously pursued in Ireland the bards and rhymers, placing them in the same catagory as monks, friars, Jesuits, and such like: “a trayterous kind of people.” Cromwell’s soldiers boasted that they broke the harp wherever they found it. But the music of Erin could neither be murdered nor transplanted ; and in the eighteenth century, especially in Connaught and Munster, its strains were heard in every direction. The daughters, as well as the sons, of the gentry, were taught the harp, and we are told that “every old Irish family had harps in plenty.” In fact they carried out the ideas of their remote ancestors, who considered that, “ from the king down, all should be able to sweep the strings in a masterly manner, when the harp was sent round at their feasts.” And the people at large, though they could not entertain the distinguished professors of the art in their houses, had a great deal of musical enjoyment in their own way. Harpers of a humbler grade than the O’Carolans and the O’Neills, the Duigenans and the Hempsons ; and performers on the Irish bag-pipe, “which, to my uncultivated ear,” says Dr. Campbell, “ is not an instrument so unpleasant as the lovers of Italian music represent it,” were constantly • seen and heard in the cabins of the peasantry. The people knew very well how to turn a tune ; they were passionately fond of the old airs ; and they seasoned their occupations with songs, appropriate to every 1 “ Whilst the harp was honourably hung in the quarterings of England, the unhappy harpers were both hung and quartered in Ireland.”—“Life of Samuel Lover,” vol. ii., p. 7 * 6o INTRODUCTION. occasion. They had plough tunes and spinning tunes; boatmen’s songs, and miller’s and carter’s songs ; and lullabys or sleep-disposing melodies ; they had music specially appropriate to each season of the year. They preserved their treasure of song as they preserved their immemorial traditions and their living faith; and this they did so well that, when, after the penal days had passed away, and the gentry had completely neglected the cultivation of Irish music, it was among the peasantry that Bunting and Joyce, Petrie and O’Curry, found the exquisite airs they desired to preserve for future generations. Dr. Petrie speaks of the music of Ireland as having been the exclusive property of the peasantry—the descendants of the ancient inhabitants of the country. He observes that it is characteristic of their ardent and impassioned temperament, and expressive of the tone of feeling that has been for ages predominant. It was not to be found, he says, among the upper classes. “ They were insensible to its beauty, for it breathed not their feelings ; and they resigned it to those from whom they took everything else, because it was a jewel of whose worth they were ignorant.” 1 “ Pray go on collecting,” he writes to one of the friends who helped him in his search for the ancient melodies; “it is a noble work to be employed upon—the building up a glorious monument to the cultivated genius, and the exquisite nature of a people, whose fate, alas ! has not been a happy one.” 2 Hardly necessary is it to remark that the home life of the people was their dearest refuge—their impregnable stronghold. Not that iniquitous legislation had overlooked this sanctuary of divine faith and domestic virtue. The penal laws, as we have seen, sought to make the fourth commandment a dead letter by encouraging disobedience to parental authority, and rewarding rebellion with privilege and wealth. The code supplemented this attempt to set children against their parents, by endeavouring 10 disturb the relations between husband and wife; for, if the wife of a Catholic declared herself a Protestant, the law enabled her to compel her husband to give her a separate maintenance, and to transfer to her the custody and guardianship of all their children ; and, as if to bring injury and insult to a climax every Catholic was by A.ct of Parliament deprived of the power of settling a jointure on his Catholic wife, or charging his lands with any provision for his daughters. Disruption of the strong and tender bond that held the Irish household as a Christian family was not to be effected by royal proclamation or parliamentary decree: nevertheless the legis¬ lation that aimed at depriving the naturally dependent members of the family of manly protection and necessary provision was felt as a biting insult and an inhuman tyranny. In Irish households, high and low, the women throughout those 1 Dr. Stokes’s “ Life of Petrie,” p. 316. 2 Ibid., p. 352. PENAL DAYS. 6l troubled times kept well up to the Christian standard, cherishing the domestic virtues, accepting with patience their own share of suffering, defying the temptations held out by the enemies of the faith, refusing to barter the souls of the young, in the midst of calamity keeping the eternal reward in view, and daily exercising works of charity and zeal. As far as circumstances would allow, the people in their domestic life followed the traditional standard of their ancestors and preserved the customs of immemorial days. Women, from the earliest times, have ever been held in great respect in Ireland. The Brehon law, by which the inhabitants of the territories outside the Pale were governed from long before St. Patrick’s time, to the reign of James I., and according to whose provisions the people in many parts of the country continued, up to a comparatively recent period, to arrange their affairs and settle their disputes, secured to women the rights of property, and provided for their rational inde¬ pendence in a far more effectual way than was contemplated by other codes. In social life the spirit of the Brehon law was embodied, and transmitted to succeeding generations, in the customs and manners of the people. One cannot read the Annals of Ireland without observing how important was the position occupied by women in Erin. All, according to their degree, were expected to fill a part, both influential and honourable, in the constitution of the clan. A considerable share of the internal administration of the principality was intrusted to the wife of the chieftain or provincial king. The duties of hospitality— onerous and constant, and precisely defined by the Brehon law—were exercised by her. To her was entrusted the care of the poor and suffering. She was expected to be an encourager of learning, and a friend to the ollamhs or professors, a benefactor to the churches, and a generous helper of the religious orders. While the chieftain was out fighting or taking preys from his enemies, the chieftain’s wife kept everything in order in the little king¬ dom, and held herself ready, at a moment’s notice, to protect her people from robbers or defend her castle from invaders. The mother of Hugh O’Neill is described by the annalists as “ a woman who was the pillar of support, and maintenance of the indigent and the mighty, of the poets and exiled, of widows and orphans, of the clergy and men of science, of the poor and the needy ; a woman who was the head of counsel and advice to the gentlemen and chiefs of the province of Conor Mac Nessa; a demure, womanly, devout, charitable, meek, benignant woman, with pure piety and the love of God and her neighbours.” In the obituary notice of a certain great lady, the annalist tells us how she was “ a nurse of all guests and strangers, and of all the learned men in Ireland of another we read that “ she was the most distinguished woman in Munster in her time, in fame, hospitality, good sense, and piety.” The old writers, in summing up the noble 62 INTRODUCTION. qualities of an Irish chieftain’s wife, do not omit to mention that she was distinguished by her checking of plunder, her hatred of injustice, by her tranquil mind and her serene countenance. We get the portrait of a woman of this stamp, and a picture of the manners of the fifteenth century in Ireland, in the account of Margaret, the daughter of the king of Ely, and wife of Calvagh O’Carroll. This lady was accustomed to give a great feast twice in the year, bestow¬ ing “ meate and moneyes, with all other manner of gifts,” on all who assembled on these occasions. The guests took their places according as their names were entered in a roll kept for that purpose, while the chieftain and his wife devoted themselves entirely to their guests : Margaret “ clad in cloath of gold, her deerest friends about her, her clergy and judges too; Calvagh himself being on horseback, by the church’s outward side, to the end that all things might be done orderly, and each one served successively.” On one of those days of festivity Margaret gave two chalices of gold, as offerings on the altar to God Almighty, and “she also caused to nurse or foster two young orphans.” She was distinguished among the women of her time for preparing highways, and erecting bridges and churches, and doing “ all manner of things profitable to serve God and her soule.” Her days were shortened by a fatal cancer ; and the annalist concludes his notice with a beautiful prayer, and a pathetic malediction. “God’s blessing,” he exclaims, “the blessing of all saints, and every other blessing from Jerusalem to Inis Gluair be on her going to heaven, and blessed be he that will reade and heare this, for blessing her soule. Cursed be that sore in her breast that killed Margrett.” And should one of these fair women, who acted well her part in the chieftain’s household, renounce “ all worldly vanityes and terres- triall glorious pomps ” and betake herself to “ an austere devoute life,” in a monastery, the chronicler fails not to speed thither the blessings of guests and strangers, poor and rich, and poet-philosophers of Ireland, which he prays “may be on her in that life.” In recording the erection of churches, and the foundation of monasteries, the old historians constantly note that it is a joint work of the chief and his wife. Some¬ times, indeed, the wife seems to have been sole founder; and we are led to infer that she had at her disposal certain revenues, whether the property of the head of the clan, or the proceeds of her own dowry. We read that the wife of Stephen Lynch FitzDominick, while her husband was beyond seas in Spain, began, in the year 1500, to build a convent on an eminence over the sea at Galway. Church and steeple were finished before his return ; and on entering the bay, he was much surprised to behold so stately a building on the heights. Having learned on his landing that the edifice had been erected by his own wife in honour of St. Augustine, he knelt down on the sea-shore, and returned thanks to heaven for inspiring her with that pious resolution. PENAL DAYS. 6 3 Subsequently he took part in the good work, finished the monastery, and endowed it with rents and several lands. Another case in point may be noted in the story of the building of the famous Franciscan monastery of Donegal. If the women of Erin took their full share of the burdens and responsibilities of life in those bygone stirring times, they were not for that excluded from participation in the pleasures of life and in the advantages of whatever culture was then attainable. Like their hus- bands, they were fond of travelling abroad, and made pilgrimages to St. James of Compostella, to Rome “ the capital of the Christians,” and even to more distant shrines. But it does not appear to have been customary for the chief and the chieftainess to leave home together : the one or the other should stay to receive strangers, entertain guests, and carry on the government of the principality. In days when cer¬ tain important professions such as those of Brehon, poet, and historian, were hereditary in certain families, the women of those families received an education fitting them to take a part in the avocations of their male relatives. Thus, among the Brehons, who were the lawyers of the clans, there were women eminent as judges or expounders of the law ; and in the learned families there were women historians and poets. 1 The learned men of Erin, it is evident, enjoyed the sympathy and appreciation of the daughters of the land, and were not ungrateful for the encouragement.and hospitality they received. They inscribed the names of their lady friends on the tracts compiled for their use or at their desire. One of the very ancient Gaelic manuscripts still in existence is a tract entitled “ History of the Illustrious Women of Erin;” another valuable relic of the olden times is inscribed “Lives of the Mothers of the Irish Saints.” It is interesting to learn what impression the women of Ireland at a later period—the middle of the seventeenth century—made on strangers from the classic land of Italy. The Rev. C. P. Meehan has enriched the fifth edition of his “ Rise and Fall of the Irish Franciscan Monasteries, and Memoirs of the Hierarchy,” with the original account of the journey from Kenmare to Kilkenny of Rinuccini, Archbishop of Fermo, who was sent to this country as papal nunzio in 1641. Massari, dean of Fermo, accompanied the nunzio as secretary, and wrote the narrative which is given in the appendix to the work just cited. The dean speaks more than once with genuine delight of the elegant hospitality with which the distinguished visitors were enter¬ tained by the lords and ladies of Munster, and specially dwells on the reception they received from Lady Muskerry, whose husband was then from home, either with the army of the Confederates, or in Dublin, discussing Lord Ormond’s peace. “The women,” he says, “are 1 See Professor O’Currj’s “Manners and Customs of the Ancient Irish,” vol. i., pp. 50 52. 6 4 INTRODUCTION. exceedingly beautiful, and heighten their attractions by their matchless modesty and piety. They converse freely with everyone, and are devoid of suspicion and jealousy. Their style of dress differs from ours, and rather resembles the French ; all wear cloaks with long fringes ; they have also a hood sewn to the cloak, and they go abroad without any other covering for the head ; some wearing a kerchief, as the Greek women do, which being gracefully arranged, adds, if pos¬ sible, to their native comeliness.” 1 There may seem to have been but little relation between the posi¬ tion of a chieftainess in ancient times and that of the mistress of an Irish Catholic household in the eighteenth century; and yet, even during the penal days the spirit of the earlier time survived, the old ideal was not supplanted by anything less worthy. The houses of the reduced gentry were still the centre of a generous hospitality, and charity was dispensed from the gentleman’s door with a liberality wholly incommensurate with the revenues of a fallen estate. The careful mother, who could not grace her home with the presence of the learned, sent forth her sons to encounter the risks of a perilous voyage and the dangers of foreign travel, that so they might escape the dreaded doom of ignorance ; she lent her best efforts to the fos¬ tering of that magnanimous loyalty so requisite for the preservation of the ancient faith. The mother’s lessons proved a stay and con¬ science to her sons when, in afterlife, temptations rudely pressed upon them. The mother’s example taught her daughters how to unite a virile courage with womanly modesty and grace. Nor was it among the higher classes alone that these character- i The Dean of Fermo does equal justice to the men of Ireland, who are, he says, “ good- looking, incredibly strong, fleet runners, equal to any hardship, and indescribably patient. They are given to arms ; and those who apply themselves to learning become highly dis¬ tinguished in every domain of science.” Of the people in general he speaks in high terms. “ I have not words ” he continues, “ to describe to you the kindness and politeness which we experienced at the hands of this Irish people, whose devotion to the holy See is beyond all praise, and I assure you that I was often moved to tears when I saw them, wholly forgetful of self, kneeling in the very mire in order to kiss the nunzio’s robe and hands, as if they were holy relics. At almost every stage of our journey the nunzio was escorted by strong squadrons of horse to protect him from the enemy. We are in Ireland ! we are in Ireland! praise to God.” The scenery of the South does not pass unobserved. One part of the road is thus described : “ From Ardtully our route lay over the mountains of the county of Cork, through that boggy region which the Irish call ‘ Sliabruacha ’—blessed solitudes, indeed, where no sybarite chariot is to be seen, and where one is not stunned by that awful uproar which in Paris is incessant, and will not allow one to think of heaven or his soul.” In another place the traveller remarks : “ The county through which we passed, although mountainous, is picturesque, and everywhere covered with all sorts of cattle browsing in the rich pastures. Then we had very extensive valleys diversified by woods, not very dense indeed, and partak¬ ing less of the horrid than of the beautiful. Such was the general aspect of the scenery for several miles of our route. Once down from the mountains, we beheld an immense tract of lowland terminating in gentle hills and dales of surpassing loveliness, well tilled, abounding in herds, oxen, and sheep, from which fine wool is made.” PENAL DAYS. 65 istics remained distinctly marked during the days of the nation’s trial ; they were noticeable in the farmer’s cottage and the peasant’s hut. The poor man’s wife did not turn the weary and the hungry from her door; she received the poor scholar with a motherly welcome j 1 she accustomed her children to think nothing of a run of two or three miles to the hedge school. By precept and by example, she taught them fidelity to the faith, love for the old land, reverence for God’s ministers, and respect for learning. The high moral tone pervading the social life of the humbler classes in Ireland, was at once the cause and consequence of the important position which the women main¬ tained at the domestic hearth, and of the beneficial sway which they exercised among their neighbours of the same degree. The circum¬ stances of the time were favourable to the growth of this influence. As a rule the women did not work in the fields : their occupations were of an indoor character; and the habits of the people, both men and women, were domestic. The latter half of the eighteenth century being happily free from such famines which had laid waste the country during the previous two hundred years and were fated to reappear at a later period, there was plenty of food for the people. The staff of life—the potato—was then in its prime, as to quality and quantity. Each little holding produced a crop sufficient for the support of a numerous family, with a large surplus for the poultry that crowded round the door, and the pigs which even the poorest cotter reared ; while a paddock was reserved from tillage as pasture for the high¬ boned native cow which formed an important item of the live-stock. In the farmer’s families linen and woollen stuffs were spun, woven, knitted, bleached and dyed, and made into wearing apparel by the women. A spinning-wheel was as necessary a part of the furniture as a pot for cooking the stirabout. Public houses were few and far between, facilities for locomotion were not abundant, and the men did not range to any great distance from home. Their amusement was to sit by the fire in the winter evenings, or smoke their pipes at the door in summer, listening to the story-teller or the singer, while their wives and daughters knitted or spun : all, young and old, being ready to break out into a dance the moment a piper or fiddler appeared on the scene. Perhaps the greatest testimony borne to the genuine worth of the poor Irish Catholics was that afforded by the 1 “ In Ireland it is a custom, immemorially established, for those petty schoolmasters who teach in chapels, or temporary huts , freely to instruct such poor boys as come from remote places, and are unable to pay. The poor scholar, while he remains at the school, goes home, night and night about, with his schoolfellows, whose parents that can afford it occasionally supply him with a few old clothes, as well as food and lodging. This appears, to be a faint emanation of the ancient custom in Ireland, so celebrated by historians, of supplying, at the national expense, all foreign students with meat, drink, clothes, lodging, books, &c. &c.”_Dr. R. R. Madden’s “ History of Irish Periodical Literature,” voL ii. p. 153, note. 6 66 INTRODUCTION. custom which prevailed among the Protestant and respectable classes of sending their children to be nursed or fostered by the peasantry. Sons and heirs destined to fill prominent and honourable posts, and daughters born to grace luxurious homes, were in all trust committed to the care of peasant women, and grew from tender infancy to hardy childhood in the mountain cabins, sharing the homely fare and joining in the simple sports of their foster brothers and sisters. One thing was certain: the nurse’s fidelity and affection could be implicitly relied on, and the gentleman’s child would have no vice to unlearn when transferred from the peasant’s guardianship to the protection of the parental roof. Thus it was that the Irish —“ true to the kindred points of heaven and home;” sustained in spirit by their intercourse with kindred and friendly races ; beguiled in their sorrows by the poetry and music of their nation—passed through the penal days, and came forth in the end with a crushed and suffering body, truly, but with the living soul intact. 1 Though many a trial yet awaited the faithful nation, and sad chapters had still to be added to Erin’s tearful story, the darkest hour had passed when, an American revolution and a French reign of terror having taught governments discretion, the worst provisions of the detestable code were repealed. A sorry enough figure the poor Catholics made when their chains were loosened. Their great-hearted Protestant fellow-countrymen, who spoke for them when they dared not breathe—the Grattans, the Currans, the Avonmores—no doubt were half ashamed of the beggared, cowed, unsteady multitude wholly unaccustomed to corporate or political action, whom they strove to set on their feet as freemen. But the spirit which calamity had not vanquished soon worked from the inner to the outward sphere, and in another, and a no less eminent arena than the political, began the reconstruction of national life. In the restoration of Catholic society, and the building up of the material edifice of the church whose ruined monuments and institutions lay thickly scattered over the land, the people displayed an ardent energy and a self-denying generosity equal in their measure to the heroic endurance of the past. Political revolutions and legislative reforms swept away insuperable barriers : but it was the people themselves who wrought their own redemption. There were no millionaires to bestow princely gifts and offer munifi¬ cent endowments; but the straitened multitude dropped their freely- bestowed alms into the treasury, and when the sums were added up the total exceeded a king’s revenue. And not in money alone but in 1 His Holiness, Pope Leo XIII., on the occasion of receiving an address at the Vatican, May 2, 1878, from an Irish deputation headed by the Cardinal Archbishop of Dublin, observed that, “ There was no parallel in the story of the nations, to the fortitude of the Irish in maintaining the faith, in spite of sufferings and tribulations endured from one generation to another.” PENAL DAYS. 6 7 men also did every family in the land send its contingent. The ranks of the priesthood were kept up by home levies, and that under circum¬ stances which would in other countries have necessitated the introduc¬ tion of a foreign missionary staff. And the women of Ireland :—they, too, had their part in the work, and their share in the reward laid up for good and faithful servants. Like the daughters of Job : there were not found in all the earth women so beautiful , .... and their father gave them inheritance among their brethren. It was their vocation to be either the guardians and example of the faith in the households of the half-emancipated nation ; or in religious life the light of the igno¬ rant, the comfort of the sorrowing, the support of the poor. Thus, the steadfast generous multitude ; the devoted priesthood ; the faithful women with hearts enflamed with charity; performing each their allotted task, renovated the ruined structure, and fulfilled an enviable destiny. In the order of Providence it was decreed that in this wise should the nation with its church arise. And with the ordinance went forth the warning and the benediction : They shall be cursed that shall despise thee , and they shall be condemned that shall blaspheme thee ; and blessed are they that shall build thee up. MARY AIKENHEAD. MARY AIKENHEAD: HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. Derail I. 1 787—I 8 I 2. CHAPTER I. MARY AIKENHEAD’S BIRTH—PARENTAGE—CHILDHOOD. BOUT the middle of the eighteenth century, a Scottish gentleman, David Aikenhead 1 by name, and holding a | commission in the 26th Cameronian regiment, relinquished the military profession, married a Limerick lady, Miss Anne Wight, the daughter of Rice Wight, of the same family as that now represented by Lord Monteagle, and settled in Ireland, making the city of Cork his winter quarters, and having a house for summer residence at Kinsale. He did not long enjoy the ease of civil and domestic life, but died early, leaving two children, a ^‘Aikenhead, of that ilk, Scotland, an ancient northern family, of which was David Aikenhead, Provost of Edinburgh, distinguished for his loyalty and virtue.”—Burke’s “ Encyclopaedia of Heraldry.” For copies of a humorous poem, written on Provost Aikenhead, by Leighton, afterwards Archbishop of Glasgow, see “ Notes and Queries,” vol. xi. The poem, or more properly the epigram, was a poor composition, the humour consisting of a play on the Provost’s name: the Scottish word aichen signiying oaken. Two families of the name carried arms; oak leaves or acorns figuring in each case. “Adam Nisbitt, son of Sir Alexander Nisbitt, married Janet Aikenhead, grandchild of David Aikenhead, Provost of Edinburgh, and they were father and mother to Mr. Alexander Nisbitt, author of the “ System of Heraldry,” and the last male representative of the family of Nisbitt.”—Playfair’s “Family Antiquity,” vol, viii. (Scotland) Appendix, cccxxv. 72 ’ MARY AIKENHEAD : daughter, Anne, who afterwards married Dr. Galway of Cork, and a son, David, who, having studied medicine, established himself as a practising physician and chemist in Cork, a city distinguished, at that time, for the number of well-qualified and successful practitioners it had produced. Young David Aikenhead was not afraid to try his fortune, even on so well-occupied a field. His courage met with its reward, and before long he obtained the first much-coveted success, that of being pointed out as a rising man. He was remarkably handsome ; his manner was kindly and agreeable, without pride or pretension of any kind ; he had a thoroughly good heart; and while he secured the esteem of the wealthy and influential classes by his character and his skill, he earned the blessings of the poor by his charitable and humane dispo¬ sition. Neither his political nor his religious principles were cal¬ culated to stand in the way of his advancement. Born, so to speak, in the Hanoverian ranks, he fell in well with the corporation and constituency of a city which never lost an opportunity of testifying its attachment to the sacred person of whatsoever royal George hap¬ pened to occupy the throne, and which was never tired of ringing its bells in commemoration of victories won, whether by sea or land, over the French, Spanish, or Dutch enemies of the reigning dynasty. Strictly Protestant in his religious views, he found himself in sympathy with the vast majority of the country gentry, as well as with the magisterial magnates and the military and civil functionaries of the opulent southern city ; all of whom held it as an article of faith, which even the evidence of their senses could not disturb, that Romanists were by nature an inferior order of beings, and that to be “ Protes¬ tant ” meant to be “ respectable .” However, when it came to the question of choosing a wife, Dr. Aikenhead consulted neither his religious prepossessions nor his profes¬ sional interests. He had met “ a dangerous papist” in the person of gentle Mary Stacpole, the eldest daughter of a Catholic merchant of the city ; he asked her to become his wife; she liked the handsome young doctor too well to refuse his suit; her parents were satisfied, and, on the 22nd of October, 1785, the marriage took place in Christ Church, Cork. But, to ease his conscience, the husband made one stipulation. Though his wife should be free to practise her own religion, she must not make Catholics of her children. It was clearly announced, and fully understood, that whatever children heaven blessed them with should be brought up as members of the church by law established. On the 19th of January, 1787, their first-born—the future foundress of the Irish Sisters of Charity—came into the world. In due course, she was carried to the Protestant Church and baptised by the name of Mary. Soon after she was removed from the city, to be nursed on HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS 73 Eason’s Hill, a healthy suburb on the north side of the river, and was confided to the charge of a very model of an Irish nurse, a certain Mary Rorke, who, with her husband John, occupied a cottage in the above locality, at no great distance from Shandon church. Eason’s Hill was, in those days, a semi-rural site, commanding the Youghal road, and having houses and cottages on one side only of the way. The cottage in which little Mary Aikenhead’s cradle was rocked was, like Mary Rorke herself, a model in its way. It was thatched in a style that was the admiration of the hill-side; there was a garden in front, and there w T as a low broad bench beside the door ; and there were fine trees standing not too far off to guard and shelter its modest roof. So well did the foster-parents fulfil their part, and so thoroughly did the hill-side agree with their precious charge, that it was thought advisable not to bring her back to the city, after two or three years, but to prolong still further her stay in the healthy cottage home, which, after all, was so easy of access that she could be visited every other day. She was, therefore, left undisturbed, and reared literally among the homely denizens of Eason’s Hill. The only thing that troubled her parents was this, that she had completed her third year before she was able to speak. But, then, would she have a better chance of learning that necessary art among the witty, rapid-tongued citizens than among the simpler, and, perhaps, slower suburban resi¬ dents ? In point of fact, little Mary almost suddenly found the use of her tongue, and soon proved herself equal to any conversational demand made on her in the society of John and Mary Rorke and their friends. Simple good people they all were, such as they them¬ selves would describe as “ nice old neighbours : ” very superior to the townspeople in general, who sometimes drank too much, and were unruly. The doctor’s child was quite safe among them ; and, indeed, had she been a little Irish queen, they could not have been fonder and prouder than they were of the beautiful, light-limbed, dark-eyed child, so full of life and spirits, and graceful loving ways. Nurse Rorke soon noticed with delight how Miss Mary, though a little lady every inch of her, had no pride, but was good and affec¬ tionate and humane; and how, dressed in her pretty white frock, she played before the cottage door with the neighbours’ children, just as if she were one of themselves. Still, it sometimes did try Mary Rorke’s patience not a little to see her darling run to meet Shawn, the coal-porter, as he wended his way home from the town, seizing his brawny hand, twining her arms round his dusty sleeve, and fatally imperilling the whiteness of the dainty frock. No one knew better than the old man how to keep the exuberant young creature in a state of temporary quiescence, for her great delight was to stand by his knee and listen to his stories and songs. Though Shawn was her 7 74 MARY AIKENHEAD: special favourite among the old inhabitants, she had in the same ranks a great many other acquaintances of her own choosing, whose place in her esteem was only just not quite so high as his. As she never was ashamed of humble friends, her acknowledgment of her country connexions was sometimes rather amusing. “Well, my little girl, what news ?” said the doctor to her one day, when she had been having her rosy cheeks admired. “ What news, I say ?” “ Oh ! father,” immediately replied the child, in her eagerness to acknow¬ ledge and requite obligations, “ I got such a fine supper of sprats from Joanie Keating ; and now I want you to give me some medicine for her.” But if the doctor’s little daughter thus enjoyed the society of the natives, young and old, of Eason’s Hill, she also took her part in their devotions. In the evening, when the rosary was said in the cottage, she knelt down with her foster-parents, holding in her tiny hand the long beads with great depending crucifix, which, no doubt, seemed to her infantine eyes as much a part of her dear nurse as the many- frilled, gaily-bordered cap she wore. This certainly would seem to be anything rather than suitable training for a child of the Establish¬ ment. But Mary Rorke regarded her precious charge as no child of an Establishment, but as “ a blessed little angel ” belonging to the holy Roman Catholic Church. And for this opinion she had the best possible warrant: for had not she herself and Molly Mullane, a trusty servant of the family, long ago carried the darling infant to the priest of the parish, and got her properly baptised a Catholic ? Little Mary learned to behave to perfection, and to add her lisping treble to the deeper tones of praise and supplication that went up from the cottage hearth. She could distinguish the prayers said on the large beads from those said on the small ones, and she knew well that the object of certain very fervent petitions addressed to the Lord of all, and to the Queen of Angels, was no other than her own tiny body and soul. As a matter of course, the child went to Mass on Sundays with the entire population, great and small, of Eason’s Hill. Sometimes she toddled on half hid in the folds of mammy’s capacious cloak, and sometimes she was lifted in Daddy John’s strong arms high over the heads of the crowd who trudged along, gossiping and bandying jokes on the way to their Sabbath devotions. Her first impressions of public worship were acquired in these visits to the bishop’s chapel, as the church of the north parish was usually called. Large as the edifice was it did not suffice for the wants of the parish; the congregation filled up every corner, covered the outer steps, and overflowed into the yard, where the devout multitude knelt on the bare ground in front of the wide-open door, and listened for the rising of the crowd within at the first words of the Gospel, and for the tinkling of the altar-bell announcing the solemn moment of consecration. There HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 75 were the men on the one side with their hats laid beside them, and their hands clasped over their stout blackthorns ; and there were the women on the other, with their well-worn beads and well-kissed crosses, bending their hooded heads to the very ground. Whatever might happen to the rest of the devout assembly, John Rorke, no doubt, took care, by dint of judicious “ navigation ” and persistent elbowing, to get his own Mary and her charge an inside place, whence they could have a view of the altar and a chance of hearing the sermon. The slow dispersing of the congregation after Mass, the cordial greeting of the neighbours, the walking home in companies, the gathering round the cottage doors or the cottage fires, according to the season, were all a part of the routine of the day, which, at any rate to the dwellers on Eason’s Hill, was a day of innocent joy and holy rest. The principal events in little Mary Aikenhead’s life were her occasional visits to town, when she would make a number of new friends, and see many beautiful and strange sights in the streets and on the river. Sometimes on a Sunday, her father riding to Shandon, and meeting nurse and his little daughter on their road to Mass, •would stop the carriage and call out, “ Mary, come with me but the child, crying, “ No, no ; me won’t go to church with you ; me go to Mass w r ith mammy,” would cling all the closer to the big cloak ; and the doctor, amused with the scene, would only laugh, and say, “ Well, then, God bless you, child, go ! ” A walk on the Parade was one of the pleasures enjoyed in these visits to town, and one that gratified to the utmost nurse Rorke’s pride in her foster-child. The ladies and gentle¬ men on the promenade always stopped to ask whose child she was, and to admire her chestnut hair and her strangely beautiful eyes. The admiration she attracted was so general, and so freely expressed, that the little beauty soon learned to understand the meaning of it; “Take me down the Parade again,” she would say; “ me know me am a pretty child.” So quick and intelligent was the child, that it was thought well to send her every day to a school not far from the cottage, where she might be placed under early and gentle discipline. The lessons were not felt as a trouble, but the parting from mammy was a grief daily renewed. However, real sorrow touched little Mary but once, and that was when nurse became sick unto death ; and doctors came from the town to see her, and talked together, and shook their heads. One day it was feared that all would soon be over with Mary Rorke ; and the neighbours remarked that when Dr. Aikenhead came with his friend, Dr. Bullen, to the cottage, he did not himself go in, but stayed outside crying. “ He is that fond of the old woman, and that good- hearted,” said the neighbours, “ he cannot bear to see her dying.” Happily, Mary Rorke recovered, and great was the joy in the Aiken¬ head household, and on Eason’s Hill. 7 6 MARY AIKENHEAD : At length the time came when little Mary’s removal to her city home could no longer be postponed. She was six years of age, and the very picture of health and happiness. If the transplanting from the hill-side necessitated a separation from the foster-parents, it would have been a scene of anguish and tears. But no; the cottage only w r as left on the hill. Nurse Rorke was installed in the household to continue her care of Miss Mary, and to take charge of other tiny members who had made their appearance in due course in the family; and honest John was assigned a post in the doctor’s service on the understanding that he also was to help to rear the children. Dr- Aikenhead could afford to make this satisfactory arrangement. He was in high repute and full practice, and his desire was to share the blessings he enjoyed and to make all around him happy. His house, a large and commodious residence, in which also the chemist’s estab¬ lishment, trading under the title of Aikenhead and Dupont, was located, stood not far from the quaint old Exchange in that part of the Parade called—for some occult reason—“ the Square.” The situation was excellent for business, and advantageous in other respects also,, being one of the airiest and driest in the city. Many of the citizens, and some of the doctors in large practice, too, by all accounts, held it for certain that the best and rarest drugs were to be had only at Aikenhead and Dupont’s, which was, therefore, the place, by excel¬ lence, for having one’s medical prescriptions made up. The house had a high social as well as a good business reputation, and many a kindly eye would glance at its bold front and many windows as the citizens of note passed by on their errands of business or pleasure : for Dr. Aikenhead’s genially hospitable entertainments, especially his pleasant Sunday dinners, afforded much enjoyment, and left an agree¬ able flavour in the memory of the guests. Cork was at this time, as it had been for some generations, a wealthy, stirring, important port, with a very original air about it and some original ways. A bird’s-eye view would give one the impression of a cluster of houses huddled together in a picturesque swamp, and holding their ground for the bare life against a river, which, spread¬ ing out into wide arms, numerous lesser branches and stealthy canals, seemed to bend its course with no other view than to circum¬ vent the buildings. Through many of the streets water flowed in the style of Rotterdam; draw-bridges crossed the canals; and trees, taking advantage of the never-failing moisture from below, and the hardly less copious moisture from above, sprang up high and green wherever they got leave to root themselves. The river banks were quayed in, and light tall-masted vessels conveyed to the ware¬ house doors, and into the heart of the town, the goods which had been carried as far as Passage by the merchantmen of France, Spain, and the Indies. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 77 Out of this gay confusion of trees, bridges, ships, and the abodes of men, a considerable number of houses, and Shandon Church with its party-coloured steeple, appeared to have withdrawn to the high grounds on the north bank in search of a safe position. As if to make assurance doubly sure, these refugees, whenever it was practicable, climbed out of the way even of roads, and carried on communication with other streets by means of a stair-case. Citizens dwelling in the low grounds got accustomed to the peculiarities of the situation ; and when an unusual flood in the river, or a very high tide in conjunction with a very high wind sent the water up to the door-steps, their spirits nowise damped rose to the level of the occasion : they did their business in boats in the morning and rowed away to their dancing parties in the evening. Some of the more prudent merchants had the lower stories of their houses fitted with heavy doors to keep out the waters, or at any rate keep in the wares; but, among the not very pleasant items of the morning’s news would frequently be the announcement to the Cork traders that their merchandise, like their capital, was floating. Travelling through the city was particularly dangerous after night¬ fall ; for there were few lamps in the streets, and no parapets to the quays; and the bridges were kept, some of them, not in the best repair. Adventurous spirits scorning these dangers were likely to get a cooling in one or another of the channels of the pleasant waters of the river Lee, which stream, being no respecter of persons, was just as ready to wash away the Governor of Cork with his coach and horses, as to engulph any top-heavy townsman who might tumble over on his way home from a carouse. Such being the general state of things, the Grand Parade, which, until shortly before Mary Aikenhead’s birth, had gloried in its own particular canal and crazy bridges, was, now that the stream had been arched in and a fine roadway levelled over the rolling flood, looked upon as a model of engineering skill and civic enterprise, and the most desirable, healthy, and substantial site within the city boundaries. It had become the centre of every interesting and important move¬ ment. It was the ride, and it was the walk. The city guard exercised on its ample breadth of terra Jirma , and the pillory was set up in the midst. An equestrian statue of George II. stood at the further end. The ships alone were excluded from their place of ancient resort, and could not approach nearer than the Mall, in the middle of which they still displayed their tapering masts and rags of canvas. Mary Rorke and the little Aikenheads were soon one of the best known groups on the Parade. Margaret and Anne trotted along, tightly holding on to mammy’s skirts ; little St. John, the baby, had a nurse¬ maid devoted to his special service ; while Mary, as one more accus¬ tomed to general society, took a longer tether, and ran about inde- 7 8 MARY AIKENHEAD : pendently, receiving and returning the smiles and greetings of the passers-by. Possibly, with all its attractions, the promenade on the Parade was not so delightful as the excursions which nurse and her children would sometimes make into the busier parts of the town. What a treat it was to look in at the windows of the fine shops on the South Mall, to watch the boats coming up to the landing-places, and to see the men hauling up the bales and rolling the casks into the stores on the ground-floor of the merchants’ fine houses ! And what rare sport it was to look out on the river and hear how the “ busy idlers,” with their legs dangling over the quay wall, amused themselves carrying on a war of wit with the barge men going down with the tide and the fishermen landing their creels ! On market- days alone the party kept carefully within hail of the paternal man¬ sion : for what with droves of cattle blocking up the streets, and pigs running wildly under the horses’ feet, and cars rattling furiously over the rugged pavement, and an excitable hilarious crowd fighting, and laughing, and clinching bargains at every street corner, it would have been as much as one’s life was worth to venture with a troop of children within a mile of Patrick-street. And nurse had another good reason for keeping out of bustling thoroughfares, for Miss Mary, who, God bless her! was as wild as a deer, no sooner caught sight of Tommy the tin-man, or Biddy the hawker, or any of her old acquaintances, than away she flew, and you might just as well try to lay hold of the wind as expect to get sight of her again until she had shaken hands with all her cronies ! But to make up for this withdrawal from the busy haunts of men on market-days, the gay Sunday promenades might with perfect safety be frequented by nurse and the children. In the afternoon, Church service over, the flounced and feathered belles, the elderly gentlemen rigidly queued ; the ruffled, powdered beaux with all the strut and swagger of so many heirs-apparent; and the young men whose shoe-ties, and locks a la Brutus , bespoke their advanced prin¬ ciples, and strong tendencies towards liberty, equality, and fraternity, were all to be seen congregated on the South Mall; while, later in the day, the picturesque Red House walk presented a still more animated scene: for thither resorted the town and country folk of lower degree to have their holiday gossip, quaff their pints of Cork porter, and group themselves just as Ostade or Teniers would have suggested at little tables under the spreading trees. By-and-by, as Mary grew tall and got sense, she began to be less in the nursery and more with her mother in the parlour. The doctor, too, bethought him that it was high time that some of his family should be seen with him at church on a Sunday. It was not now so difficult to persuade the little girl that it would be a nice thing to ride to Shandon with her father. She readily listened to the proposal, and HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 79 quite enjoyed the idea of being thus promoted from the ranks of baby¬ hood. When, therefore, the bells of Shandon rang over the city and the Lee, and the carriage drew up at the door, little Mary Aikenhead, having undergone a very particular dressing and kissing, would trip down stairs and graciously allow herself to be lifted into the carriage and deposited on the seat opposite to her father; where she would probably remain in dignified state until, nearing the old familiar district, she found herself in the midst of the dear Catholic crowd wending their way to the bishop’s chapel. There were the grannies in their Sunday cloaks, with their faces nearly swallowed up in white borders; and there were the men in their gay waistcoats and ample cravats ; and there were the barefooted youngsters as neat and nice as soap and water and clean clothes could make them. And as the heedless crowd in those days invariably walked in the very middle of the road, and the doctor’s steady pair of horses were kept at a foot pace going up the hill, lest their'hoofs should come in contact with the heels of the populace, our little lady had full opportunity of recog¬ nising her dear friends, and nodding and kissing hands to them, and calling them by their names from the carriage window. “ And who, may I ask, is your friend Shawn ?” said her father one day, noticing her delighted exclamations at the sight of the old man. “ Oh ! father,” she replied, seizing the occasion of serving a friend, “ Shawn is the man you must buy coals from the next time you want to get any !” At Shandon, both within and without the church, everything was as different as could well be imagined from the bishop’s chapel and its precincts. Around the edifice, and under the shade of the ancient trees which then beautified theburial-ground, a congregation of footmen and chairmen assembled. The former wore their laced hats and said no prayers ; and if the latter were seen occasionally enveloped in wreaths of smoke, there certainly was no sacrificial odour about the incense. Military officers and civic dignitaries, the big wigs of the law and the top men of other professions, the mirrors of fashion of the fair sex, arrived in carriages and sedans, and took their places in comfortable capacious pews, wherein little ladies like Mary Aikenhead could sit secure without having their gay sashes disarranged or their blue shoes endangered by the pressure of a pious crowd. The service was as impressive as the best exertions of parson and clerk could make it; and the sermon, though sometimes high in tone, was on the other hand, so plain in terms that even a child could understand it. 4< Mammy, do you ever say any prayers for me now ?” asked Mary one day, after she had been for some time attending service at Shandon. “To be sure I do, Miss Mary,” was nurses reply. “Well, mammy,” continued her darling, “ don’t say any more prayers for me on the small beads ; say them only on the large ones.” “ Indeed and indeed, them’s the very prayers I’ll say for you, and no other,” persisted 8o MARY AIKENHEAD : Mrs. Rorke, who was not to be so easily persuaded that the grace of baptism was being preached out of her precious child. In other matters, too, the little girl learned a great deal from ob¬ servation and from the talk of the grown-up people who frequented her father’s house. She soon had her eyes opened to the fact that Catholics were looked on as nobodies ; that spiritually they were in the wrong, and socially they had no claim to respectability or considera¬ tion. One day, her grandmother, Mrs. Stacpole, offered her a pretty little rosary, remarking that it would help to adorn the doll’s house, in which she took such pleasure. But Mary, after a moment’s considera¬ tion, replied with the most dignified air imaginable, “ No, thank you, grandmamma ; all my dolls go to church except the kitchenmaid, and it is much too good for her!” CHAPTER II MATERNAL ANCESTRY—NINETY-EIGHT—DR. AIKENHEAD DIES— MARY’S CONVERSION—CATHOLICITY IN CORK— GENERAL SOCIETY. ITTLE Mary Aikenhead’s classification of the professors of the fashionable creed, and the children of the ancient faith, no doubt afforded considerable amusement in the Stacpole household, since she was herself through them closely related to the best stock of the Anglo-Irish who had sacrificed all for their religion, and to native families of such very blue blood as the MacMahons and the O'Bryens. The Stacpoles were of Strongbonian origin, and held good properties in Limerick and Clare. When the religious question came to the front, one branch conformed to Protestantism, and saved their estates ; while another branch kept the faith, and lost all else. From the latter descended Mary Aikenhead, on the maternal side. A page from the pedigree of the good old Roches, an important family in the South, originally English, but always Catholic, will show how the Stacpoles were con¬ nected with them and with other families of high repute in Munster. John Roche, in 1688, married Anne, daughter of Philip Stacpole, of Mountcashel, Ivilneen, and Kilconan, in Clare, who was son of James Stacpole, and Christina, daughter of Denis MacMahon of Clonagh, one of the most ancient families in the same county. Three of Philip Stacpole’s brothers fell at the battle of Aughrim, fighting for James II. He had himself served as High Sheriff for the city of Limerick in 1688, when the Catholics were for a moment in the HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 8l ascendent; and he died in 1716, aged seventy years. The present Earl of Limerick enjoys some of the estates of this family, acquired by the marriage of his ancestor with a co-heiress of the Stacpoles. In a chapel of the old cathedral of Limerick is a vault in which are buried the Catholic Roches and Stacpoles; the family of Lord Limerick are the only others laid there. John Roche’s son, Stephen, married, secondly, Sarah, daughter and co-heiress of John O’Bryen of Moyvaneen and Clonties, both in the county of Limerick, chief of the O’Bryens of Arran, lineal descendants of Brian Boruimhe. 1 This lady’s brother, Thady O’Brien, entered the service of the Empress Maria Theresa, and, holding a commission under the Austrian commander, Loudon, fought at the battle of Kiinersdorff, in April, 1757, when Frederick the Great was defeated and took to flight; the king was for a moment arrested in his flight by O’Bryen, who seized and held the royal fugitive’s horse until disabled by a pistol shot. 2 Another sister of this officer was married to Mary Aikenhead’s great-grandfather Stacpole ; and their son, Philip, her grandfather, married a Waterford lady, Mary Aylward by name. The Aylwards came to Ireland with King John, and held for generations a high position in Waterford. John Aylward was owner of the castle and estate of Fatlock when Cromwell sat down before the city. The Lord Protector entertained a kindly feeling towards the Catholic proprietor, and sent him a message to the effect that if he kept aloof and passed as a Protestant no harm should come to him. But the owner of Fatlock had the confessor’s spirit in him : he would not dissemble his faith even for a day. His castle was destroyed, and no property remained to the Aylwards save what some of the family preserved by conforming to the new religion. Such being the history of the Stacpoles and their alliances, it is easy to guess that, albeit sufferers still for the faith, they were disposed to hold their heads high in the company of the English by birth, and the English by blood, and the renegade Irish. Their claims were not only asserted by themselves, but were allowed even by those who affected to despise all professors of the Popish religion. No one looked down on the Stacpoles. Indeed, in more than one sense it would have been diffi¬ cult to do so, for they were remarkably tall of stature, as also were their « “In splendour of aristocratic descent, the O’Bryens can vie with any family in Britain. In 1542, the House of Inchiquin received the earl’s coronet, in exchange for the hereditary kingship of Thomond. This far-descended house is one of the few native families of the aboriginal aristocracy to be found among our aristocracy. It authentically traces its desqent to a line of princes, springing from Brian Borhoimhe. A history of the O’Bryens, including the branches settled on the Continent, would be most interesting and curious.”—D. Owen Madden’s “ Revelations of Ireland,” p. 292. (Original edition.) 2 See “ Critical and Miscellaneous Essays, by an Octogenarian,” vol. i., p. 74 > where a German historian’s account of the incident is given. The octogenarian, Mr. James Roche, was a nephew of the Austrian officer. 82 MARY AIKENHEAD : kinsmen in the county of Clare. An old gentleman of their acquaintance used to amuse himself, it was said, in calculating at an evening party how many feet of Stacpoles might be in the room. There were subjects of conversation which no one introduced except with caution in the company of the Roches and Stacpoles. One of these was the battle of Aughrim ; so many of their relatives had fallen on that field, that they could not bear an allusion to the disastrous day. Like their countrymen in general, they held their kinsfolk, whether living or dead, in fond recollection ; they lived much in the past, and talked of remote events as they might discuss the occurrences of yesterday. But for all that the Stacpoles were a lively and agreeable family. They were well educated, musical, and fond of society, and the atmosphere of their home was pleasant and good. Even children liked the house ; and Mary Aikenhead, when she was about nine or ten years of age, began to take great delight in visiting at her grandmother’s, where also lived two or three of her unmarried aunts ; and her uncle Philip, who, now that the father of the family had followed to the better land a kindred host of various tribes, was the master of the house and the representative of that well-mixed branch of the race of Stacpole. The piety of the family was worthy of their faith. They spent much money on the chapel of the south parish, which they partially rebuilt, and even ventured to give a prominent character to, in spite of the practice still enforced by precedent, if not by law, of having Catholic places of worship hid from the view of respectable people. In this chapel the Stacpoles had their pew, but this did not prevent their going to the other city chapels according as devotion might lead them. Mrs. Stacpole particularly liked the bishop’s chapel, and was in the habit of attending evening devotions there. Mary, whose ambition it now was to be always in her grandmother’s train, rapidly outgrew some of the prejudices she had acquired in her Sunday attendance at Shandon, gladly followed on to the holy place she had known so well in her infantine days, and soon learned to join with all her heart in the pious exercises of the very edifying congregation. She began to understand and to love the devotion of the rosary, and would thankfully have accepted a set of beads if anyone had thought of making her such a present. No one did so, however ; no one appeared to mind whether she counted the Ave Marias on her fingers, or whether she joined at all in the prayers; but she set her wits to work and invented a substitute for the beads, though of a kind she hardly could venture to use in the chapel : she tied knots on her garter, and with the aid of this contrivance went through her favourite devotion in private. After some time her widowed aunt, Mrs. Gorman, who had been absent from Ireland, and had meant, it was supposed, to fix her residence abroad, returned to Cork and settled down permanently with her relatives. Mrs. Gorman was a fervent Catholic, genial and social HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 83 withal. The bishop, Dr. Moylan, was an intimate friend of hers, and she had many friends in the Presentation and Ursuline convents in Douglas-street, whom she constantly visited and spoke much of. A strong attachment grew up between Mrs. Gorman and her bright, thoughtful, handsome niece. One day, when her aunt was on her way to Mass, Mary said that she also would go. After Mass on that parti¬ cular day there was Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament, and Mary, who never before had been present at that sacred rite, was deeply moved ; she asked her aunt for an explanation, and this having been given, she dwelt with the greatest interest on what she had heard and seen, and longed to know more about the Catholic religion. It was not difficult to acquire the information she sought, for Bishop Hay’s works, the favourite reading of the pious in those days, were to be found in every Catholic household. Eagerly she took up the books, and attentively she read them. Nothing gratified her more than when her aunt spoke to her on religious subjects, and took her to the convents to see the nuns. By-and-by she made one excuse or another for absenting herself on Sundays from church service at Shandon, and began to go alone to the chapel to hear Mass in the mornings. Mary Aikenhead’s private expeditions to Mass were more easily managed in Cork than probably they could have been in other places and in a differently constituted societyt A free-and-easy style charac¬ terised the life of all the citizens rich and poor, young and old. The children enjoyed almost as much liberty as the grown people. They went and came very much as they liked; made their way to school unattended by nurses or footmen ; and were free of the city, except on Wednesdays and Saturdays, when they might run the risk of being tripped up by the swinish multitude or tossed over a bridge by the horned cattle. If they missed their way, some good Christian—a soldier perhaps, or a countryman—brought them to the paternal dwelling ; and in the evening, when it was time to get the children to bed, the domestics, if they did not find the young people in the house went out to look for them in the neighbouring mansions. The children were perfectly safe; the town was not of such monstrous extent but that everyone knew the citizens’ boys and girls, and none were so busy or so indifferent as not to take notice of the juvenile members of the community when they came in the way. Hot-house rearing was not approved of for these olive branches, and truth to say, they flourished in their open air existence Not but that the little lads and lasses had betimes their high-class entertainments, a mimic of the pastime of their elders. Once or twice, perhaps, in the year they were dressed out as little ladies and gentlemen : the girls an exquisite reduction of Gainsborough’s pastoral maids, or Sir Joshua’s dames of high estate; the boys a mirror of court costume, powdered and pern- wigged, buckled and ruffled, with their embroidered waistcoats, silk 8 4 MARY AIKENHEAD : stockings, and silver snuff-boxes. Thus elaborately got up, the minia¬ ture madams and the lilliput sirs were conveyed in sedan chairs to the juvenile fancy balls, which afforded nearly as much amusement to the assembled fathers and mothers as to the youthful actors in the scene. Mary’s morning walks and early devotions did not, however, escape the notice of her aunt. Mrs. Gorman had become still more interested in the girl, whose vivacious, mirthful disposition was giving place as she grew older to a thoughtful mood, while her naturally quick intelligence sought food in serious studies and pursuits. In fact a struggle was going on in Mary’s mind between the anti-Catholic prejudices she had too readily imbibed and her instinctive faith in the holy but despised religion. Young though she was she could fully understand that no obstacle should be allowed to interfere with the profession of the known truth, and that one should be ready at what¬ soever cost to serve God in the way He appointed. But then, as usually happens in such circumstances, the difficulties in the way of open profession of the faith were exaggerated into formidable pro¬ portions. Mary’s growing seriousness possibly attracted little general notice, for just at that time the natural gaiety of the Cork population was sadly clouded. The older folk were suffering from the terrors and the perils of the time ; and even the young were affected by the gloom that enveloped the era of Ninety-eight. Many of the citizens of note were mourning the fate of relatives or friends implicated in the disturbances ; while the poor, constantly taken up on suspicion, were subjected to the infamous tortures of the period—the whippings, the pitch-caps, the half hangings. From the country parts unfortunate rebels, or supposed rebels, were driven into the town, expeditiously tried, hanged without delay, and put out of sight, all save their heads, which in ghastly rows were spiked on the gaol. Although no outbreak of rebellion took place in Cork, the United Irish Society had many influential adherents in the city. The Emmets were of Cork origin, and John and Henry Sheares were sons of the eminent banker of Patrick-street. Nightly meetings were held by the members of the society, and Lord Edward Fitzgerald, assuming a safe disguise, ventured to visit the neighbourhood. On the other hand, the Sheriff of that day, Dr. Harding, used the cat-o’-nine tails with merciless severity on every poor wretch suspected of disaffection, or denounced as a rebel; and Chief Justice Carleton, who tried and sentenced the brothers Sheares, was their fellow-citizen and the inti¬ mate friend of their parents. In Cork, as elsewhere, the leaders of the insurrectionary movement were almost to a man Protestants and Presbyterians. The Catholics of position either lacked the spirit to risk the moderate advantages they had already obtained, by engaging in a hazardous undertaking, or shrank from incurring the accusation HER LIFE , HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 85 of rebellion. Moreover, they were powerfully held in check by their bishop, Dr. Moylan, who in his private exhortations and his published pastorals anathematised the revolutionary spirit, and warned his flock to maintain a strictly loyal attitude in the midst of the perturbed con¬ ditions of the time. So much weight was attached to a pastoral letter issued by the bishop in December, 1796, that the Corporation of Cork presented Dr. Moylan with the freedom of the city in a silver box, “to perpetuate,” as they said, “ our grateful approbation of his pious exertions in promoting the peace and good order of his country at the moment of threatened invasion.” 1 Among the very last whom one would suppose likely to be affected by the enthusiasm of Ninety-eight was David Aikenhead. The son of a “settler,” nursed in an ultra loyal atmosphere, and brought up in a circle wholly out of sympathy with the native population, he had begun life in accordance with the traditionary principles of the ascendency. In course of time, however, that love for the people and the country which had beguiled many another stranger in the land, seized also on him. He entered into the plans of the society, shared their hopes, and, there can be no doubt, was himself “ united.” Among his apprentices were several young men who afterwards became eminent and prosperous in their profession. Some, at any rate, of these young men were far from sharing the doctor’s political opinions, but they knew his secret, and kept it. One Sunday afternoon as he was about to sit down to table with a number of guests, the butler came to tell him that a gentleman, a Quaker, asked to see him. The doctor desired the Friend to be shown up, and on the visitor’s introduction invited him to partake of dinner. None of the company remembered to have ever seen the new guest, a man of frank, gentlemanly address, middle height, and pleasant countenance, lighted up by a pair of eyes singularly dark and lustrous. The party were not long in conviviality when the house was surrounded by troops with the Sheriff at their head. A few hurried words from the doctor to the Friend, and the latter disappeared. Immediately a rigorous search for papers was made in every part of the dwelling. No opposition was given to the Sheriff and his men ; and the ap¬ prentices, at least, appeared to regard the scene as particularly amusing : for they took the opportunity of making a great racket in the shop, throwing orange peels at one another—carefully,however, keeping their backs to certain drawers in which papers of an explosive kind were concealed. The young men’s fun might not, perhaps, have proved so successful a game as they expected, only for the sudden departure of the Sheriff and his troops, who, having received some in- 1 “ The Council Book of the Corporation of the City of Cork.” Edited by Richard Caulfield, LL.D., p. 1115. 86 MARY AIKENHEAD : formation from without, gave up the search at Aikenhead and Dupont’s, and took with all expedition the road to Blackrock. Meanwhile, a gentleman walking on the Blackrock road was accosted by a stranger in the garb of a Quaker who asked him was there a ferry at that part of the river, adding that he had particular and urgent business at the opposite or Glanmire side. There was no ferry, the gentleman answered; and the Quaker pursued his way, until he came to the house of a friend opposite the present Ursuline convent, to which he had been directed by his late entertainer. There, after some parley with a fisherman—the price being of small importance provided the river was speedily crossed in the boat that lay alongside the bank—the oars were manned, and the craft steered to the Glanmire shore. From the middle of the stream the fugitive could descry the Sheriff and his military escort arriving at the spot whence he had embarked. The pursuers thus foiled, and doubting not that the boat pulling with haste across the river had on board the object of their search, returned with all expedition to Cork, crossed the bridge, and hurried back to Glanmire. But they were foiled once more. The fugitive—Lord Edward Fitzgerald—had reached Sunday’s Well, and was safely housed at Jemmapes, a cottage in a clump of trees, well known to the United Irishmen, with whom it was a favourite rendezvous. Dr. Aikenhead, who was now about fifty years of age, and had secured a good provision for his family, resolved to give up business. In 1798, the establishment of Aikenhead and Dupont passed into other hands, and Mary’s father found himself free to form another plan of life from that which he had followed with credit and success. What these ultimate plans were we cannot say. All we know is that he was left but a very few years to enjoy his life of greater ease. Towards the close of the year 1801 he became seriously ill, and by Christmastide there was no hope of his recovery. He was well aware of the dangerous nature of his malady, and he received the ministra¬ tions of a Protestant clergyman, who prayed with him and prepared him, in the way prescribed by the Church of England, for his approach¬ ing dissolution. But his mind was not at ease. Some word, which had escaped Mrs. Aikenhead in her anguish at the approach of “ an eternal separation,” impressed him with the reality and the supreme claims of the faith to which his wife had steadfastly adhered. He asked to have a Catholic priest brought to him, and after some serious conversation his doubts vanished and he expressed his desire to be received into the Catholic and Apostolic Church. He made his pro¬ fession of faith, and on the 28th of December, breathed his last amidst the tears and prayers of his family: the bishop and faithful Mary Rorke standing with the sorrowing group by his bedside. This happy death was a source of great consolation to his widow, HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 87 who held the tender husband and the good father in affectionate and faithful remembrance as long as she lived. It had, no doubt, its effect also on Mary, steadying her wavering mind, inclining her to read the lessons of life’s sorrows rather than to court the vanities of empty prejudice and idle opinion, and leading her to the conclusion that, since everything was uncertain in this world save death and tribulation, it was better to cast minor considerations to the winds, and follow the lead of conscience, cost what it might. At length, having heard Dr. Florence MacCarthy preach a sermon on the parable of Dives and Lazarus, she was so moved by the consideration of the rich man’s doom and the poor man’s sufferings and recompense, that she made up her mind to cast in her lot with the lowly and the despised whom Jesus loved and called to share his heavenly kingdom. This one thought now possessed her. Mrs. Gorman, who always watched her with affectionate interest, saw that a crisis was at hand. Calling Mary aside, she made her feel how much in sympathy she was with the struggling soul, and gained her fullest confidence. “ I shall never be happy until I am a Catholic,” cried Mary. “ And why not become one at once?” was her aunt’s reply. With the aid of this good friend Mary went through a course of careful instruction and devout preparation, and on the 6th of June, 1802, she was received into the Catholic Church. She made her first Communion of the 29th of the same month, the festival of SS. Peter and Paul; and on the 2nd of July, the feast of the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin, she received the Sacrament of Confirmation from the beloved and venerated Dr. Moylan. Mary Aikenhead was midway in her sixteenth year when these happy events took place. The dates were marked as red-letter days in her calendar, and each anniversary as it occurred was celebrated with gratitude and joy. She no sooner professed the faith than she became imbued with the essential spirit of Catholic life. She gloried in belonging to the nation of “ Irish Papists,” still politically and socially banned, whose heroic endurance and matchless fidelity in¬ spired the first noble enthusiasm of her ardent, steadfast nature. From the beginning of the religious troubles up to the partial re¬ laxation of the penal laws, the Catholics of Cork, as gallantly as any in the land, held on to the ancient faith : braving death and outlawry in the worst days, and enduring in less severe times, with a high spirit and a light heart, the long course of irritating oppression to which they were subjected by the ascendent party. When it was sought to in¬ troduce the reformed doctrines into Ireland, the citizens of Cork, partly descended from the Danish settlers and partly from the old English colonists, stoutly refused to admit any change. Strictly loyal they were, and for generations they had maintained the English interest against the circumjacent Irish, powerful through numbers and 88 MARY AIKENHEAD : audacity. But when loyalty to the English Sovereign meant a deser¬ tion of higher duty, the citizens of Cork knew how to choose. Queen Elizabeth showed great anxiety to convert them to her religious views and induce them to acknowledge the jurisdiction of a bishop of her own choosing, whom she appointed as the pastor of their souls. Her Majesty’s nominee, Dr. Lyon, who, besides being a Queen’s bishop was a member of the Commission for peopling Munster with new Ena-fish, did his utmost to ruin and exterminate the old inhabitants, and prevent the exercise of the Catholic religion ; but he was driven to despair by the obduracy of his contumelious flock. He wrote affecting letters on the subject of his difficulties to Lord Hundson, her Majesty’s near relative and Lord Chamberlain. In his quaint epistles he describes the people as “ ignorant of God and his truth,” and led by “ false teachers who draw them away from their obedience to her Majesty’s goodly lawes.” They even go so far, he has to admit, as with “palpable and damnable blyndnesse to obey her Majesty’s capital enemy, that Antichrist of Rome .” 1 Point blank they refuse to resort to divine service; not even women and children will hearken to sermons ; and if any will have his child baptised hardly can gossips be found “ but one poor man, that is, the clerk, his wife, and a poor minister, these being the common gossips.” Elizabeth’s bishop can, of course, prevent the Papists worshipping in public, but “in the city of Corck all is done in private houses by massing priests,” who reside within the walls and are “ maintayned and kept dayly by the aider- men and merchants,” and conveyed by them out of town when they “goe to say their masses in the countrey abroad.” The citizens and corporations are, in truth, the reverse of what could be desired : they “ grow wealthy, proud, stubborn, obstinate, disobedient, and re¬ bellious.” And what is worse than all and hardly to be credited, the Queen’s clergy in the country parts “ forsake their benefices to become massing priests, because they are so well entreated, and soe much * This reminds one of the account of the Reformation given in the “ Annals of the Four Masters” A.D. 1537. “A new heresy and error arose in England, through pride, vain¬ glory, avarice, sensuality, and many strange speculations, so that the people of England went into opposition to the Pope and to Rome. They at the same time embraced extraor¬ dinary opinions, and the old law of Moses in imitation of the Jewish people, and nominated the king during his own reign chief head of the Church of God. New laws and statutes were enacted by the king and council, according to their own will; they ruined the religious orders who were entitled to hold worldly possessions, namely, Monks, Canons, Nuns, Friars of the Cross, and the four poor orders, viz., the Minor Order, the Preachers, Carmelites, and Augustinians ; and the possessions and livings of all those were taken up for the king. They demolished the monasteries, sold their roofs and bells, and there was not a monastery, from Arran of the Saints to the Iccian Sea, that was not shattered and completely destroyed, except only a few in Ireland, which the English did not find out or discover.They made archbishops and sub-bishops for themselves, and though great was the persecution of the Roman emperors against the Church, it is doubtful if so great as this ever came from Rome; so that it would be impossible to relate or give a description of it, unless told by a person who saw it.”—Connellan’s translation. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 89 made of among the people.” These renegade clerics are as ill- mannered as they are ill-advised. “ The best name they can give unto the divine service appointed by her Majesty in the Church of England or Ireland is the Divell’s service, and the professors thereof Divels, and when they meet one of the profession, they will cross themselves after the Popish manner, and any that company with us, or receive any living of me or the like, being appointed by her Majesty, they excommunicate him or them, and will not suffer them to come in their company.” 1 No less incorrigible proved the next generation. In the reign of James I., Sarsfield, Mayor of Cork, was imprisoned and fined five hundred pounds for going to Mass. Strafford, in his turn, tried to bring the citizens to reason, but in vain ; all he could do was to plunder them. They subscribed liberally—Alderman Dominick Roche giving as his contribution two thousand pounds—to help the king to carry on the war with his parliament; but the freedom of worship promised to the loyal Catholics in consideration of their subsidy, was, it is needless to say, never granted. Having joined the confederates during the great rebellion, the inhabitants of Cork were overwhelmed in the subsequent general disaster. All the civic officers, together with the principal citizens, were turned out of their homes into the wasted country districts. After a time many of them got back to the city, but only to suffer worse things wffien Cromwell came to spend the Christmas of 1649 in “the beautiful cittie,” converted the church bells into battering cannon, carried on his operations against the neighbouring strongholds, and matured his plans for annihilating at one fell swoop the aboriginal inhabitants and the old Catholic settlers of Ireland. When the sword had done its bloody work, the Oath of Abjura¬ tion was employed to accomplish the reformation of the survivors. It w T as thought that wholesale conversions might be effected like wholesale massacres : but this was a miscalculation. A strange scene occurred one day in the year 1658, when the people of the surround¬ ing country, having been ordered to repair to the city for the purpose of having the oath administered to them by a bench of magistrates sitting in Christ’s Church, between five and six thousand Catholics entered the gates. “ All were arranged in processional order,” says a cotemporary narrative, “ that the oath might be more easily admin¬ istered to each of them. In the foremost ranks was a young man who entered the church with a light step, and whose looks beamed with joy. The clerk received immediate orders to administer to him for the first the oath, for the magistrates saw in his joyous counte- 1 See the Irish Ecclesiastical Record, vol. vii., in which Bishop Lyon’s extraordinary letters are given in full, printed for the first time from the originals in the State Paper Office, London. 8 9 o MARY AIKENHEAD : nance a readiness, as they imagined, to assent to their desires. The young man requested that the oath should be translated into Irish, for he feared lest some of those around him, not understanding the English language, might inadvertently take the oath ; a crier at once read it aloud in Irish, so that all within the church might hear. ‘ And what is the penalty/ he then asked, ‘ for those who refuse the oath ?’ ‘ The loss of two-thirds of their goods/ was the magistrate’s reply. 'Well, then,’ added he, smiling, ' all that I possess is six pounds, take four of them ; with the two that remain, and the blessing of God, my¬ self and my family will subsist. I reject your oath.’ An aged hus¬ bandman that stood by his side, filled with admiration, cried out aloud, ‘ Brave fellow, reject the oath.’ The words were caught up from rank to rank, till the church and the street without rang with the echo, ‘ reject the oath, the impious oat hi For half an hour these words and the exclamation, ‘ Oh, God, look down upon us ! ‘ Oh, Mary, Mother of God, assist us!’ could alone be heard. The magistrates, as though a thunder-clap had rent the heavens, were struck mute with terror; then rising from their seats, they commanded the assembled multitude to disperse, and every one of them, under pain of death, to depart from the city within an hour.” 1 During the reign of Charles II. the persecution continued. In order of time, King James arrived to take up his residence in the Dominican Convent of St. Mary of the Isle, while his fleet cast anchor in the harbour, and the troops of Louis XIV. quartered themselves in the town. James disappeared, not without having treated with un¬ generous severity the Protestant intruders. William’s fleet sailed in, and Cork surrendered to Churchill and the Duke of Wurtemberg. A few years of fitful hopes and blank despair succeeded, and Sarsfield, with his gallant soldiers, sped from these shores away to France. Then followed the penal regime, closing against the Catholics of the towns, every road to honour and independence, and filching from the country gentry the scant remnant of property which had previously escaped confiscation. It has been said that but three Catholic families in the county of Cork retained their estates, and these only by the protec¬ tion of their Protestant friends ; while the old city families of note had disappeared from every post of consideration or emolument, and were to be found—such of them as had made their way back after having being turned out of the lines of fortifications—located in obscure streets, engaged in petty trades, and confounded once and for ever in suffering and disgrace with the natives of Gaelic origin. But their ancient spirit was not extinguished. If the fathers were great in their endurance, the sons, as time went on, proved themselves no less admirable in their prudence, their enterprise, and their prompt- 1 Dr. Moran’s “ Memoirs of Arclibishop Plunket.”—(Introduction.) HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. gt ness in seizing every occasion to loosen the bonds that galled the Catholic body and retarded their own advancement. Entries in the Council Book of the Corporation of Cork enable us to understand what were the difficulties which the Catholics during the eighteenth century had to contend against. The new Protestant colony having been delivered, as they said, from “ the tyranny of their malicious, implacable enemies the papists,” were, nevertheless, in constant appre¬ hension of having their monoplies invaded by a resurgent Catholic body. In 1700, the Council resolved to extinguish the “ Irish shop¬ keepers,” by seizing all goods sold by retail by such as were not freemen, and disposing of them to the use of the Corporation. Four years later it was considered necessary to petition Parliament, “ setting forth the grievance the English lie under by the encroachments of the Irish into their respective trades, and also setting forth the great numbers of Irish flocking into the city to the great damage and danger of the Protestant inhabitants.” Notwithstanding all this, the unfortu¬ nate Irish held their ground, and, in 1707, certain “ Popish merchants,” who had abatement of their petty dues, were ordered to be “ sum¬ moned before the mayor and tendered the oath of abjuration, which, if they refuse to take, from thenceforth the privilege granted them be taken off.” Under the apprehension, no doubt, that the Papists might arise in the night to proclaim the Pretender, the mayor gave direc¬ tions, in 1715, that any Papist found out of his house at or after ten o’clock at night should be secured by the guard. 1 2 Interested agitators and silly pamphleteers outside the Council-room, blew the coals from time to time, and strove to get up an auto da fe at the expense of the Papists, who, in spite of all that was done to impoverish and crush them, 3 had attained to a condition of moderate comfort, fast progressing into opulence. Complaints were made of “their impudence, running openly into every branch of trade, talking big upon change, and importing the cargoes of priests who swarm about the city.” 3 But, truth to say, the Protestant citizens, though they jealously clutched their monopolies, and occasionally made anti-Popish demon¬ strations, were too good-natured, as individuals, to carry on a persistent course of petty personal persecutions. 4 As time went on they shut 1 See “The Council Book of the Corporation of Cork,” edited by Richard Caulfield, LL.D. 2 The Catholics were obliged to pay quarterage for permission to follow their trade or calling. 3 Quoted from a “rabid pamphleteer of the time,” in a “Lecture on the History of Cork,” by J. G. MacCarthy, M.P. 4 There was, in fact, room for all who had industry or enterprise. The trade of Cork was very great in the last century. About 80,000 beeves, and porkers too numerous to count, were slaughtered annually for exportation, and a quantity of fish was salted. The merchant service and the English navy were provisioned to a great extent by the Cork houses, and the French, in time of peace, were supplied with an inferior kind of salted beef. 92 MARY AIKENHEAD : their eyes to many things; while the Catholics, accepting connivance as a boon, made the best of their opportunities. They never were ashamed of their religion ; but with an approach to mirthful uncon¬ cern they not ungracefully wore the badges of degradation. Before the middle of the last century there were public Mass-houses in the city; and when Dr. Campbell visited Cork, in 1777, he found the Catholics had seven parish chapels and many houses of monks, “ in all of which they have,” he says, l< a succession of services on Sundays and holidays, from early in the morning till late at night, for the ac¬ commodation of their numerous votaries.” Before the door of one of their spacious Mass-houses the traveller saw several elegant car¬ riages standing on a Sunday morning, while a prodigious crowd of people filled the street, forming as motley an assemblage of human creatures as ever he had seen in his life. He gives as an instance of Popish audacity that when, on bidding a townsman, whom he had picked up as a guide, to conduct him to the bishop’s house, the fellow impertinently asked him “ which bishop ?” As for the country people, they were in no degree behind the citizens in their unblushing pro¬ fession of Romanism and their open practice of time-honoured de¬ votions. On patron days they made pilgrimages to the ruined shrines of local saints; the stones round the old crosses were worn with their knees ; they visited the holy wells, telling their beads, and taking no heed of the sneers of the self-righteous or the remonstrances, of the worldly-wise. Crowds poured into the towns on Sundays, and filled the chapel and the chapel-yard, within, perhaps, a stone’s throw of the Protestant church, in which the minister preached to a congre¬ gation composed of his family and domestics. With the era of the Volunteers a day of brighter hope seemed to dawn for the Catholics of Ireland, and a spirit was spread abroad which not all the illiberality of Henry Flood nor all the bigotry of Lord Charlemont could stamp out. The Volunteers of the first levies, Protestants to a man, soon awoke to a nobler ambition than that of vindicating the rights of a party. They admitted Catholics to their ranks, and were anxious to emancipate them. Cork was not insensible to this generous impulse. The corporation, which had hitherto dis¬ played so illiberal a spirit, relaxed its sectarian rigour, in so far at least as to inscribe with marks of honour on the roll of its free Tallow was exported to Bristol and Holland; hides were shipped to the latter state. Hearts and skirts were salted and shipped in bulk for Scotland. The round gut went to Venice for the skins of Bologna sausages, the bladders were sent to England, and the shank bones to Holland—a ship laden with the latter looking like a charnel-house. Great quan¬ tities of camlets were exported to Portugal: an illicit trade, but butter firkins and other kinds of packages eluded the vigilance of the Custom-house officers. It was given as an in¬ stance of the wealth of the Cork merchants that although they lost ^70,000 by the earth¬ quake of Lisbon, not one of them broke.—See Lord Chief Justice Willis’ “ Account of Cork,” 1857-62. Transcribed from a MS. in the British Museum by Richard Caulfield, LL.D. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 93 citizens such openly avowed friends of the Catholic cause as Edmund Burke and John Philpot Curran. The Catholics now began to take heart, and ventured to show, by the more dignified attitude they assumed, that they did not acquiesce in the policy that held them in degradation. An incident, which occurred in the summer of 1790, on the occasion of the visit of the Viceroy, Lord Westmoreland, to the south of Ireland, showed that the Catholics were beginning to indulge a certain liberty of speech, or perhaps we should say, to exercise the right of being silent when they would. On the arrival of the Lord Lieutenant in Cork, “ it was intimated to the Catholics there that an ■expression of their loyalty would be acceptable. Accordingly an address of that nature was prepared, which, however, concluded with a hope that their loyalty would entitle them to some relaxation of the present code. Before its being formally presented, it was submitted to his Excellency, and was returned to them to strike out the clause which expressed the hope. With a feeling rather natural to men not perfectly broken down by oppression, they refused to strike it out, and declined presenting any address at all.” 1 Indeed, had it not been for the early and fatal intrusion of the Orange faction on the scene, the growing courage of the Catholics and the increasing liberality of the Protestants would probably have resulted in establishing at Cork some¬ thing like a state of thorough good citizenship. But though the Protestant minority, with their jealously-guarded privileges, and the Catholic majority, with their vexatious disabilities, continued to form two distinct classes which only now and then entered into really cordial relations, society in Cork was, neverthe¬ less, pervaded with a general tone distinguishing it favourably from that of other places. As a whole, the citizens were a highly intelli¬ gent, humorous race, who understood the art of enjoying life as well as the art of enriching themselves by commercial enterprise. They were characterised by “ universal politeness and urbanity from the highest to the lowest,” and by a certain native wit which overflowed the market-places, rippled the surface of official life, and brightened the existence of high and low. Conversation was anything but dull. Men and women were expected to have always the ready word on the tongue, and to contribute something to the general stock whether in the shape of fun or information. Humour was not always confined to words; it sometimes broke out into action. Observant foreigners remarked that a great number of characters (gens d caractere ) were to be met with in Cork. 2 1 MacNevin’s “ Pieces of Irish History.” (First Essay.) 2 Et y a ici grand nombre de personnes qu’on appelle gens a caractere, et qui tous ont des fantaisies fort singulieres ; I'un ne se met jamais a table, erainte d’etre suffoque par l’odeur des viandes et mange tout seul dans le vestibule: l’autre depense son revenu en animaux favoris, ou pets comme ou les appelle: un troisieme (assez bon enfant chez lui) 94 MARY AIKENHEAD : Music the citizens cultivated in good earnest, following, though at a humble distance, the example set them in his day by Bishop Berkeley, who had an eminent Italian master domesticated in his palace at Cloyne, and used to call up his children at cock-crow to practise on different instruments, and go through their singing lessons in the golden dawn. Possibly the minute philosopher may have helped in the same way to encourage the taste for gardening which also prevailed; though certainly the amateur florists did not adopt all his theories, or place, as he would be sure to do, a ball of the in¬ comparable tar at the root of delicate shrubs. Anyhow, the mer¬ chants’ residences, situated on the slope of wooded hills washed by the sparkling river, and looking out on a landscape of rare sylvan beauty, were rendered still more picturesque by their setting of tasteful shrubberies and brilliant parterres, which expanded and glowed under the gently stimulating influence of an atmosphere permeated with heat and charged with moisture. Boating was another favourite recreation of the citizens. The rich merchants had yachts, or rather hookers, of their own—swift, safe, commodious vessels; the less opulent hired a sail for the day’s pleasure ; while the poorer class followed in the wake of their betters, and on holiday occasions rowed away to Passage in their own market wherry, or dropped down to Cove in a neighbour’s fishing smack. One way or another the Corkonians were constantly afloat; and the river between the city and the sea was a lively scene on summer evenings, and on the frequent occasions when public galas and private enter¬ tainments assumed the character of a water party. Theatrical amusements were in great vogue too. The Cork people had no mean opinion of their own critical judgment; nor were the Garricks, and Kembles, and Siddonses in the smallest degree in¬ different to their verdict. From the highest to the lowest the actors were particularly careful not to assume any airs while they were in Cork, nor to play any tricks on their audience. Performances, amusing or tragical as the case might be, took place from time to time on other stages besides the histrionic boards. The Court-house, for instance, was a place of singular attraction during the assizes : for the Cork circuit was first Curran’s and then O’Connell’s circuit; and the bar all through was brilliant in the extreme. In the speeches of counsel the Irish brogue was heard in perfection. Many of the most eminent men at the bar affected the brogue if they had not the gift by nature : “it made them favourites,” says an observer, “and sent their sarcasms apres vous avoir enchante par une belle voix et une musique charmante, finira par vous ioxer. II y en a unjqui court les rues au grand gallop avec un bonnet rouge et entre dans les boutiques a cheval, quand il a besoin de quelque chose, etc. etc.—“ Promenade d’un Fran^ais dans l’lrlande, p. 97. (Dublin Edition. 1797.) HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 95 with more force in irony.” 1 More questionable proceedings were those peculiar to a contested election—an affair which sometimes lasted two or three weeks. Each candidate for parliamentary honours strove to secure the services of eloquent barristers, but was still more anxious to have the professional aid of “ fighting counsel,” that is to say, of good shots, who were quite as ready to send a chal¬ lenge as to make a speech. These gentlemen got “ fighting price,” a much higher figure than “ talking price.” One of them is said to have fought fourteen duels at a contested election in Cork. 2 CHAPTER I I I. MARY AIKENHEAD’S FRIENDS—HER DAILY LIFE—RELIGIOUS VOCATION. AIKENHEAD’S worldly affairs had prospered so well hat he was able at his death to leave his family suffi¬ ciently provided for. The widow and her four children had their home in Rutland-street, a quarter of the city then inhabited by people of their station ; they enjoyed all the comforts and possessed many of the luxuries of life; there was little change in their style of living, and the carriage they had been accustomed to, and which comparatively few families in those days could keep, had not to be laid down. Mrs. Aikenhead, a gentle, amiable woman, who had made the domestic life one round of peace, felt the loss of a good manager, as well as of an affectionate husband, when the partner of her life was taken from her. The income of the family was derived from house property and other sources which required constant looking after, and Mrs. Aikenhead, who did not enjoy good health, was hardly able for a kind of work that was new to her and fatiguing. But her eldest daughter developed a remarkable capacity for business details, helped her to manage the property and bring up the children, and, after two or three years, was virtually the head and mainstay of the family. Mary had got a good education without losing the comforts, the joys, or the inestimable unstudied training of home life. She had been sent to a day-school when a little over ten years of age that she might learn to speak French. Good schools abounded in Cork at that time, and French was thoroughly taught in them by competent professors. Not to “ speak French like a native,” would have been considered disgraceful in Cork society, where one met at every turn the descendants of Huguenot settlers, 1 O’Keefe’s “Recollections,’’vol. i., p. 45. 3 “Ireland and Her Agitators,” p. 12. 96 MARY AIKENHEAD: who cultivated the tongue of their grandfathers, and had the French Service read every Sunday in a church of their own ; Catholic priests, to whom French was as familiar as English ; and gentlemen, who, having been educated abroad, took pains not to forget the language of the civilised world. Fond of reading, taking delight in all that was refined and elegant, intellectually quick, and wide in sympathy, Mary was well prepared to learn from observation of the world around her, and to profit by the opportunities she enjoyed in social intercourse. Her education did not end with her school-days; she learned something worth knowing every day of her life; and by the time she was eighteen or twenty years of age, she was a very interesting girl, and a most agreeable companion. Certainly there is this to be said, that she enjoyed advantages which all of her age and rank do not possess, for she had that early share in the responsibilities of life and that rational liberty of action which are essential to the moral and intellec¬ tual growth of every human creature. Her innocent gaiety of dispo¬ sition made her enter heartily into whatever was humorous and mirthful, and her love of nature provided joys for her in sunset glories and the loveliness of woodland scenes. After Dr. Aikenhead’s death there was no difficulty about sending Anne and Margaret to the Ursuline Convent to be educated with the Hennessys, whose mother was a sister of Mrs. Aikenhead. The children of the two families grew up together, and a pleasant, hopeful group they formed. The Stacpole household was still tolerably numerous and held well together, although Mrs. Stacpole, to the sur¬ prise of her friends, contracted a second marriage late in life, and became the wife of Mr. Bernard of Palass Anne, a member of Lord Bandon’s family. Mary’s aunts were very fond of society, and so was their brother Philip : the latter was a captain of the grenadier company of the Cork Legion ; he never married, but lived an easy¬ going sort of life, dressing and comporting himself very much in the fashion of a Frenchman of the old school, and qualifying himself in sundry ways to be classed with the gens a caractere of the town. But he was a good fellow withal, and to the last was Mary’s “ dear uncle Philip.” The outer world of extensive family connexions and troops of acquaintances came into close relationship with the Rutland-street household, who, truth to say, led neither a dull nor a lonely life. Among her father’s relatives and friends Mary met good Protes¬ tant society, and in the company of her mother’s relations she became acquainted with the best in Catholic circles. She felt more at home among the latter, as was natural ; but she also could not help thinking that, all things considered, the Catholic society was the most agreeable. Nor did her judgment mislead her in this. Undoubtedly there were compensations in the position of the Catholics, well kept HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 97 down though they were. Thrown back on the domestic hearth by their exclusion from the clubs, the men brought home each day’s treasure trove of new ideas, happy strokes of wit, and foreign news, to enliven their own dinner-table, and make good cheer when friends dropped in for a social talk. The style of living in those days suited a condition of society which combined the comfort of the family circle with the intellectual vivacity of reunions composed of men well edu¬ cated and highly intelligent, and of women, who, being accustomed to good conversation, were quite at their ease and knew how to acquit themselves creditably. Genial hospitality was the rule. Even the moderately well-to-do kept a good table, as indeed was not difficult, considering that the markets were stocked with fish, flesh, and fowl of the best quality ; vegetables and fruit, as excellent as Italy itself could show ; bread, superlatively good; and butter, fresh from sweet inland pastures. Moreover, the city cellars were well supplied with incomparable port, choice Bordeaux, and golden Spanish wines, which the merchants’ correspondents, their own exiled kindred, sent home from foreign stores. Thus, when the master of the house arrived at dinner¬ time in company with two or three merchant friends who had just landed with a cargo from distant lands, or a country cousin came up from the interior to sell a drove of fat oxen destined to provision British soldiers in the Peninsula, disarrangement of the domestic economy was not the consequence. The guests were made welcome and excellently entertained ; and they brought something agreeable with them, too—a breath of fragrance from southern shores, a whiff of mountain air from Kerry, some new element to heighten the zest of a conversation which seldom lacked the dash of Irish humour and the pungency of attic salt. Parties to which guests were regularly invited, were hardly more than a pleasant widening of the family circle, or rather a lengthening of the well-spread board. But the plenty which prevailed was not merely a rude profusion ; the viands were carefully cooked and served with taste, and it was not difficult to perceive that the host had lived for some time abroad and liked to keep up certain excellent foreign customs. Nearly all the Catholic heads of families, in Mary Aikenhead’s youth, had been educated in France, and several of the younger men had got more or less schooling on the Continent before the Revolution broke out and forced the Irish students to return to their native island. Many of the merchants having relatives on the Continent had seen foreign life in their company other than student-wise, and still kept up friendly intercourse with them. Not a few of humbler standing had also their foreign connexions, and though living in poor circum¬ stances received letters and presents from relatives in high stations abroad. Oftentimes the souvenirs sent home were a touching evi- 9 8 MARY AIKENHEAD : dence of the exiles’ undying recollection of the old land, and faithful love of kindred ; yet withal provoked a smile, so ludicrously out of character with the condition of the recipients were the exquisite pieces of art workmanship and the articles of court costume trans¬ mitted to the humble inheritors of once renowned names. Among those who had brought a great deal of pleasant life into the Aikenhead and Stacpole circles was George Hennessy, the hus¬ band of Mary’s aunt, Teresa; he was a handsome, agreeable man, a member of “ the ancient and honourable house of Hennessy of Bally- macmoy, in the county of Cork.” 1 One of his immediate ancestors, Richard Hennessy, married a cousin of Edmund Burke, and was an officer in the Irish Brigade in the era of Dettingen and Fontenoy. That gentleman’s son, James, was also for a time in the Brigade, but subsequently, with his father and another partner, established a dis¬ tillery at Cognac. Mary’s uncle, who was a wine merchant in Cork, kept up a communication with his relations in France, and often went on a voyage to Spain about his mercantile affairs. From his journeys he used to return with a goodly store of news, including pleasant talk of travelling adventures, and sadder tales of shipwreck and disaster. He was greatly liked, and his house was the scene of many an agree¬ able entertainment: as indeed were the houses of the wine merchants generally, for the most aristocratic society in the county willingly accepted invitations to a table at which wine went round of a vintage which could not be had elsewhere for love or money. George Hennessy, like his relatives, knew something of a soldier’s life ; he was captain of a yeomanry corps, and was often exposed to great hardship in the discharge of duties which devolved on the local troops during the disturbed state of the country after 1798. On one of these expeditions he caught a fever, of which he died ; 2 his widow, who was a widow indeed, all her life long, was left with two children, the little cousins already spoken of. Undoubtedly the best representative of the literary class among Mary Aikenhead’s friends was Mr. James Roche, a member of the good old family already spoken of—“the plentiful Roches who do not wrong.” 3 He was connected with the Stacpoles through his grand- 1 Mr. Peter Burke’s “ Public and Domestic Life of Edmund Burke,” ch. v. 2 O’Connell thus alludes to the death of George TIennessy, in a conversation with Mr. O’Neill Daunt:—“It was a dreadfully wet evening, when Grady and I crossed these moun¬ tains. My cousin, Captain Hennessy, commanded the company who had on that day es¬ corted the judges from Cork to Fermoy. On reaching Fermoy he was thoroughly drenched ; he pulled out the breast of his shirt and W'rung a pint of water from it on the floor. I im¬ plored him to change his dress. ‘ Oh, no,’ he answered, ‘ I shan’t mind it; ’ and in that state he sat down to dinner. The result of course was a fever, and in three or four days he was a corpse. How people will fling their lives away ! ”—“ Personal Recollections,” &c., vol. ii., p. 55. 3 Ancient Irish Poem. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 99 mother, Sarah O’Bryen, who was sister, as we have said, to Mary Aikenhead’s great grandmother, and the friendliest relations were kept up between the families. Mr. Roche came up to his young friend’s ideal of a man of taste and learning—a Catholic gentleman living in the world. Although a banker, and largely engaged in business, he found time for extensive reading and serious study. His residence, situated on the Glanmire hill and overlooking the winding river and its picturesque banks, was the very picture of a seat of studious repose; the library windows commanded a lovely view; its shelves were filled with good editions of the classic writers, and the best English and foreign literature ; and a greater treat could hardly be enjoyed than in spending an hour among its treasures, listening to their owner’s running commentaries on men and books. His conver¬ sation was particularly interesting from his knowledge of French affairs, and his acquaintance in earlier days with a variety of remark¬ able characters. Educated at the Catholic College of Saintes, he settled for a time in France ; he knew many of the officers of the Irish Brigade, was intimate with Count MacCarthy, at Toulouse, and acquainted with the Girondists at Bordeaux ; Tallien and his wife he often met in society. In Paris, during the Revolution, he was a sadly unwilling spectator of the tragic scenes of 1793, and did not escape the dangers of the time ; he was arrested and detained in prison until the death of Robespierre gave the signal for the release of many like himself confined on suspicion. Mr. Roche’s foreign education seemed only to have steadied his early imbibed religious principles ; at no time was he infected with the revolutionary spirit in politics, or touched by the free-thinking element in religion. 1 Dr. Bullen, another highly-valued friend of the Aikenheads, did not escape in this respect quite so well as Mr. Roche : for he caught, during the years he spent on the Continent, more or less of the preva- lant contagion, and though no propagandist of the views of the Encyclopaedists, was, to say the least, not remarkable for his orthodoxy. But he was a fine character : nature had endowed him with a good heart; and the manners of the ancient regime sat well on him. He was not only charitable, but he showed the greatest respect to the poor. Whenever he was called in his professional capacity to attend a person in reduced circumstances, it was remarked that he would be sure to go in his carriage as if to a prince. So far from taking a fee in such a case he would send the patient the nourishment he prescribed. When attending the affluent he was by no means so particular as to 1 Mr. Roche in later years was a contributor to the Gentleman's Magazine, the Dublin Review, Notes and Queries, &c. He printed a collection of these papers, in 1851, for private circulation. This work, entitled, “Essays, Critical and Miscellaneous, by an Octo¬ genarian,” 2 vols., is full of information and remarkably interesting. The author died in 1853, hi s 83rd year. 100 MARY AIKENHEAD : the style in which he made his professional visit. In society he showed the same chivalrous spirit; and if there happened to be in the company a lady who had known better days, Dr. Bullen would take her on his arm and lead her to a place of honour among the guests. He had been an apprentice of Dr. Aikenhead, and had a high regard for him and every member of his family. Mrs. Bullen was regarded, and with good reason, as a saint; her piety and her goodness in every relation of life were known to all. The children of this worthy couple grew up with the younger Aikenheads ; and from first to last a cordial intimacy subsisted between young and old of the respective households. Included in the circle that constantly met in Mary Aikenhead’s youth at the hospitable board of the Catholic citizens were the bishop, Dr. Moylan ; his coadjutor, Dr. Florence MacCarthy ; the pastors of the different parishes, and the friars attached to the religious houses. No way inferior to the laity in general information and conversational powers, the clerical guests enjoyed a good talk as well as the rest, contributed their quota to the general fund, and helped to keep the tone of the society at a high standard. 1 For an example of patriarchal dignity and sweetness there was no need to look beyond Dr. Moylan, whose still fresh complexion, and flowing white locks thrown back from the broad placid forehead, gave a peculiar attractiveness to his appearance. Fie was not only loved by his own flock, but highly esteemed by the Protestant party. The cotemporary and personal friend of Edmund Burke, he had lived through eventful times, when the rebellion of ’45, the American war, the French revolution, and the insurrection of ’98, were in turn the topics of the hour. Having been educated abroad, he returned home to enter, at his father’s desire, a mercantile career ; but a marked vocation drew him to the Church, and he went back to France to com¬ mence his theological studies at the University of Toulouse. After his ordination he was appointed by the Archbishop of Paris to the charge of a parish in the capital. However, a longing to return to Ireland and devote himself to a mission which stood in greater need of devoted priests than the France, as it was presumed, of that day, took possession of the Abbe ; he gave up the easy and honourable position he enjoyed and sailed for Cork to dedicate all his energy and zeal to the poor Catholics of the old land. He was not destined to labour in obscurity. He was named Bishop of Kerry; and, in 1787, 1 Wakefield, writing about this very time, says, that the priests with whom he became acquainted “ had aU received part of their education in a foreign country; by a long resi¬ dence abroad they spoke the French language with fluency, and had a very general know¬ ledge of the affairs of the Continent; with England they seemed to be little acquainted, few of them having ever been there.”—“ Account of Ireland ; Statistical and Political,” vol. 2, p. 554. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. IOI was promoted to the see of Cork, left vacant by the defection of Bishop Butler, Lord Dunboyne. Dr. Moylan was so impressed with the idea that Irish people should stay at home and help their own people, and was so persuasive in stating his views on this point, that he induced several persons to adopt his opinion and change their course after they had gone abroad to live, as they hoped, in a sort of pious enjoyment for the rest of their days. Among those whom he thus influenced was Mary Aikenhead’s aunt, the Mrs. Gorman already spoken of, who had set her heart on joining friends of hers who were nuns in the convent of the English Franciscans near Bruges. This hope she had been constrained to relinquish when the French revolu¬ tion drove the community from their home ; but it revived once more as soon as she learned that the Rev. John (afterwards Bishop) Milner had offered the refugees an asylum, received them with generous hos¬ pitality, and provided them with a residence near his own chapel at Winchester. Mrs. Gorman was actually in the last-named city arranging to fix her abode close to her religious friends, if not under the same roof with them, when Dr. Moylan, arriving on a visit to his friend, Mr. Milner, found his old acquaintance in the midst of her preparations. The bishop did not conceal his disapprobation. How, he asked, could she reconcile it to her conscience to live as she was doing, surrounded with every spiritual comfort, while so many of her nearest relatives were, in spiritual blindness, deprived of the light of faith ? The admonition was not unheeded. Mrs. Gorman sacrificed her cherished purpose, and returned to Ireland to be an apostle in her own home. A great friend of Dr. Moylan was the Abbe Edgeworth, whom he knew as a young ecclesiastical student at Toulouse and left after him in France. The Abbe’s noble and self-sacrificing character was well known in Ireland. It is said that before the Revolution he was offered a bishopric in his native country, but declined to quit his humble mission in Paris. When the first rumbling of the Revolutionary storm was heard, and while people still ventured to talk of the disturbances in Paris as “ a riot,” Dr. Moylan pressed his friend to come to him, and bring over to Cork his mother and sister, who also were friends of the bishop and of his family; but he would not leave his charge. Presently things grew worse ; the whirlwind tore up time-honoured institutions by the root; still, the priest would not forsake the little flock he had gathered round him—poor English and Irish exiles and friendless Savoyards—to whose service he devoted all his energies, and for whose sake he disregarded personal danger. His deliberate choice was to remain with the lowly and the desolate, and help them through the awful crisis. Dr. Moylan heard no more of his friend— the most unassuming yet most fascinating of men—until one day arrived the news that the French had led their king to the scaffold. 102 MARY AIKENHEAD : and that in the supreme hour, beside the discrowned monarch, there had stood, with serene majestic courage, the faithful priest whose dearest desire it was to minister to the sorest-tried and the most for¬ saken. 1 There was a certain atmosphere of family life about the bishop’s residence. One of his sisters kept house for him. Another sister, a specially dear friend of Mary Aikenhead, as we shall see by-and-by, was superior for a great number of years of the Ursulines in Cork. She had gone abroad with the intention of entering a convent on the Continent, but immediately after Dr. Moylan had “ smuggled over his contraband freight” of nuns who were to make the foundation in Cork, she returned home and joined the new institute. The bishop had several brothers. One was General Moylan, originally a merchant, some time aide-de-camp to Washington, and afterwards com¬ mander of the cavalry during the American war ; another, who had been a merchant at Cadiz, went likewise to the States, and became clothier-general to the army; a third was a lawyer in Philadelphia ; a fourth, settled at L’Orient, “ was singularly useful, in 1777, by managing a treaty between the American Commissioners and the Farmers General of France, for an annual supply of tobacco from America, which he concluded during Lord Stormont’s residence at the court of France, and many months previous to the open rup¬ ture with that court.” 2 Not much was said in Cork about the bishop’s foreign connexions—the family and friends showed no disposition to bring forward, in public at least, the citizen-brothers of the great Re¬ public. The bishop was ultra-loyal to the British crown ; and much 1 The Abbe Edgeworth’s mother was the granddaughter of the great Archbishop Ussher. His father, a cousin of Richard Lovell Edgeworth, was a clergyman, and held the living of Edgeworthstown. The future Abbe was born in the vicarage house, and baptised in the church of which the family were strenuous upholders. In the very teeth of the penal laws the minister gave up his preferment, became a Catholic, realised whatever property he possessed, and with his wife, who shared his convictions, and their young family, migrated to France and settled at Toulouse. After the death of Louis XVI. the Abbe Edgeworth rendered many important services to the exiled royal family. He was offered, it is said, a pension by the British Government, but declined it in polite and grateful terms, saying that he could not think of adding to the expenses which the Government had already incurred, in providing for such a number of French emigrants. He caught a fever while attending some French soldiers of Napoleon’s army who had been sent to Mittau, and after a few days’ illness he died. The daughter of Louis XVI. attended his death¬ bed, administered medicine to him with her own hand, and received his dying breath. The court of Louis XVIII. went into mourning for this more than friend. The king wrote his epitaph ; and the Duke and Duchess of Angouleme, the Archbishop of Rheims, and all the nobility of the court attended his funeral.—“Memoir of the Abbe Edgeworth.” By C. Sneyd Edgeworth. 2 See the account of the Moylans in the Marquis de Chastellux’s “Travels in North America.” The author describes in the most agreeable way the home and family) of Colonel Moylan (as he then was), and bears testimony to the many excellent qualities of that very gallant and intelligent man, for whom he conceived a great friendship. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 103 talk of “ Moylan’s Dragoons” would not have been prudent in those dangerous times. But if Dr. Moylan, who had known France before the hurri¬ cane had swept across the land, could describe the men and manners of the old regime, there were others in the priestly circle who all too well could conjure up a scene of the reign of terror. For instance, there was Father Donovan of “the Little Friary.” The good Capuchin was living with a noble family in Paris when the Revolution broke out. His friends fled away, and he, as having been concerned with aristocrats, was thrown into prison. One morning after he had spent the night preparing a number of his fellow-prisoners for death, he was suddenly called out with a batch of the condemned, and trundled off to the guillotine. Just as he was about to set his foot on the ladder, an officer of the French guard called out in Gaelic: “Are there any Irish among you?” “There are seven of us,” cried Father Donovan. “ Then have no fear,” said the officer, who, immediately using his influence with the officials, had his seven countrymen set aside. 1 Father Donovan ultimately returned to Ireland, and chose for his own special work ever afterwards the task of preparing for eternity poor prisoners sentenced to death. The Carthusian monk and emigre Abbe Gauthier was one of the o socially well-known regulars resident in Cork at this time. Father Callanan, a Capuchin educated at Louvain, was another. Of the secular clergy the youngest, yet on the whole the most remarkable, was the Rev. John England, a man of great ability, untiring energy, and resolute will. Fired with the patriot’s ardour, and bitterly re¬ membering the sufferings of his own fathers in the penal days, his eloquent tongue and powerful pen could hardly be restrained within the limits deemed prudent in those troubled days ; nor, indeed, did he breathe at ease, until, summoned to the new world and enthroned in the episcopal see of Charleston, he found himself among freemen, the citizen of a glorious Republic. A contrast to this impassioned son of the soil was the parish priest of St. Peter and St. Paul, the Rev. John Murphy ; a man of gentlemanly manners, a great lover of books, very zealous in providing for the due performance of Church ceremonial which had fallen into abeyance during the bad times, and devoted heart and soul to the service of the sick, the suffering, and the ignorant. He had grown up at the knees of Father O’Leary, who, a frequent guest at his father’s house, took much notice of the boy, encouraged and helped him in his studies, and oftentimes associated him in his charitable works. The youth was sent abroad at an early age, and having chosen the ecclesiastical state, studied in France and Portugal. Having finished his theological 1 See J. F. Maguire’s “ Life of Father Mathew.” io 4 MARY AIKENHEAD : course and received ordination he was pressed to accept a Professor’s chair in the Irish College at Lisbon. However, Dr. Moylan, whom he was destined to succeed in the bishopric, recalled him to his own country, and soon after his return appointed him to a parish in Cork. 1 Of still another type was the Rev. Jeremiah Collins, with his fine face, manly figure, dark flashing eye, and genial smile- Enthusiasti¬ cally labouring for the advancement of the Catholic flock, his great desire was to see schools established in every quarter; and while he gave utterance to his hopes in ardent words that seemed almost prophetic, his thoughts reverted to earlier days when he himself, Virgil in hand, and perched on the ditch-side, kept watch for the hedge- master and his scholars, lest some hound of a discoverer should scent the learned quarry and seize the informer’s prize. 2 Conversation could not be other than discursive and entertaining when the interlocutors were men of excellent wit, and found in their own experience and the history of their fathers material enough for copious table-talk and fireside narratives, full, now of pathetic and now of amusing incident. Stories, the opening scenes of which had been enacted some twenty or thirty years before, were still developing, as we should now say, in serial chapters. No one knew what might yet turn up in those life histories ; no one could forecast the end. There were o’er true tales of family life familiar to all, which outdid romance, and might have furnished the histrionic stage with situations of a powerfully dramatic character. Some illustrious men had recently passed off the stage of life whose memory was such a living presence in the thoughts and speech of a community fond and proud of them, that the younger members of that society, in their maturer years could hardly satisfy themselves that they had not once on a time seen in the flesh these well- beloved countrymen and lovers. Foremost among these was Edmund Burke, whose friends, relatives, and correspondents were to be met with in that circle. He was not a native of Cork city or county; but his mother, the daughter of a distinguished Catholic family, was born and reared on the banks of the Blackwater; and Edmund himself knew the neighbourhood and the people so well, talked so much about them, and graced his oratory with imagery so plainly suggested by the picturesque and storied scenery of the district in which years of his boyhood were spent, that an idea subsequently prevailed of his having been born in Cork. His Catholic fellow-countrymen could hardly mention the name of that greatest of contemporary orators, statesmen, and philosophers, that most kindly and estimable of men, save with a tender accent and a proud heart-beat : for he 1 See a biographical sketch of Bishop Murphy in Duffy’s Catholic Magazine, vol. i. 2 In the “Life of Father Mathew,” will be found very characteristic traits of Dean Collins. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 105 had helped them early and served them long, and the last public act of his life had been a generous effort once again to befriend them. Another good friend lately lost was “the great Romanist priest, Father O’Leary/’ who, on a memorable day in the history of Ireland, was received by the Volunteers with presented arms as he passed through the streets of Dublin; whose panegyric was pronounced by Grattan ; and whose influence was great enough to save the Religious Orders in moments of extraordinary peril. Though he had been absent from Cork during the latter years of his life, he left behind him so vivid a memory that people hardly realised the fact of his death when they heard he was no more; nor, indeed, would they have been greatly astonished if on a jovial evening a quick tap at the door were heard, and a slight, agile figure in a full-dress suit of brown stepped in, and the familiar face with its pleasant smile and high well-powdered wig appeared. They would have thought they had dreamt their peerless friend was dead ; and the accustomed chair would have been drawn, whereon, being enthroned, the incom¬ parable friar might drop his kindly words into their hearts and flash his witticisms around them. James Barry’s name was constantly mentioned just at that time. Not that his townsmen knew much of him personally, after he had studied in Italy and settled in London ; or cared much for the strange, rude man, great genius though he was. But his death was recent; faults of manner and temper were lightly touched on; his early days were remembered when, scudding before the wind on board his father’s coast¬ ing vessel, he fed his fancy on elemental sights and sounds, and chalked wild visions on the slanting deck. The accounts that had reached his native place of the great artist’s lonely death-bed, and of his magnificent obsequies in St. Paul’s, made a deep impression ; and the story of his life was related over and over again in the city on which he had conferred honour in no small measure. Everyday life was now and then agreeably varied by the arrival of inquiring strangers taking notes of men and manners in the south of Ireland, and by the visits of real though perhaps hitherto unknown friends. One of the most welcome of the latter was Bishop Milner. He came to Ireland to see with his own eyes a country concerning which there was avast amount of talk going on just then, both in and out of Parliament, and to make acquaintance with a people who had been described as a race of savages; the term “ wild Irish ” being, as he said, as familiar to his ears as the term “wild beast.” And he came all the more willingly to Cork, because his friend of friends was Dr. Moylan the bishop of that see. There was a great deal in the history and antiquities of the country to engage Bishop Milner’s philosophic mind, and the phase through which the Catholic body was passing attracted all his attention and sympathy ; he spared no pains 9 I0 6 MARY AIKENHEAD : in acquiring an accurate knowledge of the state of affairs in the country, and he certainly prepared himself to form an independent judgment. He made it a practice when driving through the remote districts to descend from his chaise and talk with the country people on the road ; and when he came to a school, he would go in and examine the classes. The swarms of handsome, healthy children at the cabin doors did not escape his attention ; nor did the increasing wealth of the Catholics of the towns who were beginning to purchase landed property. The number of barracks dotting the country, and the enormous military force kept as a garrison in Ireland, amazed him. The conclusions he drew from his survey were highly favourable to the Irish; the people had their faults, he plainly saw, but he had no hesitation in giving them a high place as a Christian and civilised people; and he was decidedly of opinion that in the matter of educa¬ tion the poor of Ireland were far in advance of his own countrymen of a corresponding class. Indeed, the extraordinary exertions made by the Catholics to educate the poor of the flock filled him with astonishment. 1 Dr. Milner’s stay in Cork was the occasion of much social festivity. The hospitable citizens delighted in doing honour to the worthy and distinguished guest of their own venerable bishop, did were gratified by his just appreciation of the scenery of the South. A water party was got up for his special amusement, and he was attended down to Cove and up the river again by a flotilla of twenty sail—a fair breeze swelling the canvas, and a band of music filling the air with melody. The social humour of his new friends he could not help enjoying, though it may now and then have been a degree too strong for a man who, as he himself said, so far from being able to make a pun, did not even understand one when it was made. 2 But if his entertainers surpassed him in intellectual frolic, he was more than a 1 Dr. Milner, in one of his letters from Ireland (1807), thus writes : “ I shall state to you a fact which I have lately learned from a military officer of equal honour and discernment. He said that, having raised a company of soldiers composed of nearly the same number of Englishmen and Irishmen, he found so many more of the latter had learned to read and write than of the former, that he was obliged to choose most of his sergeants from amongst them.If what is stated should be well-grounded, how much is the English public imposed upon by the incessant and loud complaints with which it is stunned on the subject of the alleged brutal ignorance of the Irish poor, and their total want of education, as if they were a race of savages, unacquainted with the use of letters, and utterly destitute of Christian and moral instruction! If this were true, the fault would not rest with them, but with their government, which, till late years, prohibited their having masters of their own religion. But it is not true ; for as to the use of letters, I really believe, conformably to the statement of my friend the officer, that a greater comparative number of them are acquainted with it, than of the poor cottagers in our own country; and with respect to Christian and moral information, I know and am sure that the former are learned compared with the latter.” 2 Provost Husenbeth’s “Life of Dr. Milner,” p. 545. MARY AIKENHEAD. From a Miniature supposed to have been taken when she was in her twentieth year. T. CRANFIELD AND CO., DUBLIN. s V. • 0 I . HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 107 match for them in width of view and deep philosophic thought; and they listened to his strongly-expressed and energetically-delivered opinions with the liveliest interest. This visit was, for many reasons, an event in the Catholic social circle, and an event, too, of the most pleasurable kind. Even the children had their share of enjoyment. It was a wonder to them to see a foreign bishop along with their own two bishops in a room of an evening; and as they had hitherto known only one type of the episcopal dignitary—their own Dr. Moylan and Dr. MacCarthy with whom they were as much at home as if they were their grandfathers—the youngsters scanned with close attention the right reverend stranger, whose florid colour, grizzled hair, animated expression, broad shoulders, and vigorous step, were characteristic of quite another sort of saint. But soon the heartiest friendship sprang up between the vicar-apostolic of the midland district and the youthful members of Cork society; for children were never overlooked by the great man, who excelled in story-telling and delighted in having a group of breathless listeners around him. Such were the people among whom Mary Aikenhead spent her life until she was about one-and-twenty years of age, and such was the spirit of the society that helped to develop her character and talents. She was herself no insignificant member of that society: being much observed and greatly liked. Well ordered in her own life, blessed with a cheerful temper, and genial in her ways, she was com¬ panionable and helpful to all. Her kindly generous disposition made it easy for her to recognise what was good in those she came in contact with, and to get on smoothly with them. Therefore, it was pleasant to meet her in the day's walk, and delightful to live under the same roof with her. She set about her business in the morning as if nothing suited her better than affairs of a prosaic order. Those with whom she had serious though commonplace transactions, possibly considered that she had more than a fair share of advantages ; at any rate, they thought it a pleasure to do a service to so very handsome and agreeable a young lady, and highly satisfactory also to have dealings with one so remarkably sensible and clear-headed. At the social dinners and in the evening conversations it was abundantly evident that she was fond of reading and was conversant, like those around her, with the best literature of the day. If she did not talk much herself, she could enjoy the talk of other intelligent people ; and whatever observations she made were not without sense or point. Pleasant evening parties, bringing young and old together to enjoy good music, and join in or look on at the lively dance, were a constant source of enjoyment in those days. The number of pretty girls dressed in white with coloured shoes and sashes ; the naval and military officers in their uniforms ; the civilian beaux in suits of green or blue or Spanish brown, made the scene a gay one. io8 MARY AIKENHEAD : Mary Aikenhead in her “ sweet Irish style of innocent gaiety,” 1 entered heartily into the pleasures of the hour. No young lady was more in request as a partner; she was a first-rate dancer, light of step and easy of carriage in the country-dance, but excelling in the minuet. Her figure, though well formed, was rather full at this time, and her friends thought her handsomer when a slight girl of fourteen or fifteen years of age. Her style of beauty would probably attract greater admiration in our day than it did in her own, for then litheness and an airy grace were thought more distinguished than an imposing presence. Mary Aikenhead, while very popular with the dancers, was an object of considerable interest to the older guests who were among the lookers-on. Those turbaned matrons, and those queued and powdered heads of families, made confidential comments to one another as they sipped their tea and tapped their silver snuff-boxes. They noticed how a natural vivacity and a certain youthful dignity were combined in her; they remarked her good-natured care of others, and the way in which she avoided ever becoming herself the centre of a circle. They made up their minds that there was a soul of no common order looking out of those eyes : expressive, changeful eyes, which some said were gray, and some believed to be bright hazel, and others pronounced the very next thing to jet black. Those handsome hands, they thought, would be likely to do well whatsoever work was set them ; and they should be greatly mistaken, indeed, if the girl who now so lightly yet so firmly stepped across the scene, did not on some future day tread with distinction a greater stage. Truth to say, Mary Aikenhead appeared to advantage in these gay parties, where amusement was not turned into a tiresome pursuit, nor easy intercourse crushed beneath the weight of stupidity and numbers. Sleep was not murdered by these reunions, which, indeed, generally terminated for the young people in a brisk walk home. Opera cloaks and Indian shawls were not then in requisition to muffle up young ladies and protect them from a blast on the three steps between the door and their carriage. When the dowagers had been comfortably seated in their sedans, the girls pinned up their fur- belowed skirts, tied on their strong shoes, drew the hood of their cloaks over their comely faces, and, escorted by their beaux and trusty domestics, trudged along under favour of the moonlight or the glim¬ mer of the chairmen’s lanterns, enlivening the road with snatches of song—echoes of the harmonious strains of an hour ago—until an opened shutter, revealing a reproachful-looking nightcap, reminded the young men and maidens that all the world were not as light¬ hearted and tuneful as themselves. Thomas De Quincey. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 109 Mary Aikenhead, however, had other occupations besides house¬ keeping and monetary affairs, other joys besides musical evenings and merry dances. She did not magnify her household cares into so stupendous a piece of work, or toil so excessively over the amusements of life as to leave herself no time to bestow on the poor, whom she had always loved. Accompanied by a young friend, Miss Cecilia Lynch, she made morning rounds of other than the fashionable quarters of the town, bringing relief to the indigent, comfort to the sorrowing, “ kind words, so short to speak, but whose echo is endless,” to all. And if with a free heart and a light conscience she relished the conversational feast of the dinner-table, and entered into the spirit of the gay drawing-room hours, may it not have been because she had earned her enjoyment ? Not that her work for the poor was a hard service : possibly it was the most grateful task of all. The poor regarded her as specially belonging to them ; she was their own Miss Mary. They loved to see her pass by ; and when she entered the narrow, miry lanes, they came to the door to admire her and to send blessings with her as she threaded her way. Clearly they were of opinion that there was not so noble-looking a young lady in all Munster : and that was saying a good deal. Moreover, they strongly suspected (and this was saying vastly more), that in the whole king¬ dom of Kerry there could not be found anyone so clever or so ‘know- ledgable , as the said Miss Mary. Those who had known her as a child toddling along by her nurse’s side, watched her all through with lively interest, and noted in words transmitted to their children and their children’s children, how she grew up “ good and humane, and humble, always going about among the poor, and never ashamed of them.” Many of her lowly friends remarked that, no matter at what hour of the night she returned from a party, she never was late for the ten o’clock Mass next morning; and some who had the oppor¬ tunity of observing her still more closely, confidentially informed their gossips that she used to burn down a whole mould candle while saying her prayers after she had been out at a dance ! Thus did God’s poor chronicle her daily deeds of piety and charity, keeping the record for heaven, and weaving her name into their prayers. Possibly Mary Aikenhead’s friends, whether rich or poor, had no other ambition for her than that she should make a good marriage, be the mistress of a happy and an affluent home, the adored wife of a worthy man, and the mother of a troop of children, clever, handsome, and virtuous, like herself. But her own previsions did not stray in that direction. Her early conversion, her keen sense of the deliverance she had had from the bonds of error and the tyranny of a worldly spirit, and her gratitude for God’s mercy had long ago disposed her for another career. Her affections, strong and deep in character, no MARY AIKENHEAD : centred in her family and a little group of well-beloved friends : she needed, she desired no closer ties. From girlhood her ideal of happi¬ ness was the privilege of devoting herself to the service of the sick and suffering poor, and of vowing herself to this work in religion. The union of outside charitable work with the religious life, at least in the Ireland of that day, seemed a utopian idea. There was no Order, nor had there ever been an Order in the country, whose rule it was to relieve the destitute in their homes, and to receive the sick into hospitals under the care of nuns. In two remarkable cases of com¬ paratively recent occurrence, hopes had been entertained that such an institute might be founded in Cork, but there were too many diffi¬ culties in the way, and the idea had to be given up. Still, Mary Aikenhead’s thoughts were busy with the subject; her heart glowed, and her eyes kindled, as she listened to Dr. Moylan’s account of the daughters of St. Vincent de Paul, whom he had known in France. If charity had not been, as it were, born with her, she would have caught the divine contagion from the coadjutor bishop, whose love of the poor and zeal for souls approached the measure bestowed on apostolic men. Dr. MacCarthy had been her great friend from the day when his touching discourse on Dives and Lazarus made so pro¬ found an impression on her : he was now her confessor. The example of his life of self-sacrifice impressed her as his eloquent words had done ; and she had the best opportunity for studying under so good a master, for he was personally and deeply interested in her, and did not grudge her a share of his precious time, or of that intimate con¬ versation from which the young will oftentimes learn more than from pulpit oratory or printed books. As time went on there appeared to be still less likelihood that her dream could ever be fulfilled, and she had only to decide whether she would give up the service of the suffering poor or renounce the idea of conventual life. To conclude in the latter sense was not possible, once she believed herself called to the religious state, and there appeared nothing more to be done than to enter a convent, as soon as she should feel herself at liberty to leave home. In Cork, at any rate, there was not much room for choice. There were only two convents in that part of the world: one the home of the Ursulines, and the other the mother-house of the Presentation order. Mary had relatives and dear friends among the daughters of St. Ursula. She knew well the interesting story of the foundation, and saw the noble work the nuns were doing in educating women so as to make them fi companions for intelligent men, and worthy to bring up Christian families. Fine types of womanhood wore the habit in that community: women who had lived in the world and who knew its needs ; and who, when their pupils were removed from their care, and had returned to their homes, did not cease to take an interest in their after-life, and HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 111 act, in their regard, the part of true friends and wise counsellors. That these Christian teachers did their work well she could not doubt, for several of the most estimable women of her acquaintance had been educated at the convent, and now were placing their own daughters under the same care. As a child, Mary had often gone with her aunt, Mrs. Gorman, to visit at the convent; and as a girl, she was in the habit of going to see her religious friends, either alone, or in company with former pupils who needed but a trifling excuse to bring them into the presence of their well-beloved nuns. A tender friendship subsisted from first to last between her and the superioress, Mother Louis Moylan. The latter had much of the simple sweetness that characterised her right reverend brother; while she had great experience, and possessed intellectual gifts of a high order. Another of Mary’s religious friends was Mother Borgia MacCarthy, the sister of the coadjutor bishop, and a fascinating woman, if ever there was one inside or outside the walls of a convent. The good Ursulines were not without a hope that their young friend would join them in their pious labours, and, indeed, at one time it seemed to Mary that she should do so. But, then, the poor always rose up before her mind; and as she stood at the window of the convent parlour, and her eyes rested on the plain pile of the Presentation buildings reared nigh hand, a feeling of self-reproach would steal upon her, and she would ask herself why she was not going there, where her life and services would be devoted exclusively to the poor. True, the Presentation nuns were bound to enclosure, and could not go abroad to aid the destitute and tend the suffering. Still, they were vowed to the poor, and their vocation was to rescue from the reproach and danger of ignorance the children of the lower orders, who flocked into their schools in multitudes. In all probability the final decision would have been in favour of the Order vowed to this humble but vitally important work, if it had not been for a promise made to her friend, Cecilia Lynch. This young lady was preparing to enter a convent of mitigated Poor Clares at Harold’s Cross, near Dublin ; and so pleased was she with all she knew of the institute, that she greatly desired to attach Mary Aikenhead to it also. A promise was therefore exacted that no decision should be come to until the convent of St. Clare had been visited. The journey from Cork to Dublin, which, little more than twenty years before, could not have been accomplished in less than five or six days, had been shortened to a run of twenty-two hours, through the enterprise of Mr. Anderson, a merchant and banker in Cork, who started between the two cities the first mail-coach that ever ran in Ireland. People were therefore in the habit of speaking of the trip as if it was a mere afternoon ride. But Mary Aikenhead had no friends in Dublin, and it did not seem quite easy to set out on such an expedition for the 112 MARY AIKENHEAD : mere purpose of seeing a convent. Soon, however, an opportunity was afforded her of visiting Dublin, seeing St. Clare’s, and becoming acquainted with an altogether different circle from that in which she had grown up in her native city. The profession of a young lady, Miss Cecilia Ball, took place at the Ursuline Convent, late in the year 1807 ; and among others there came from Dublin to be present at the religious ceremonial, the novice’s sisters, Mrs. John O’Brien and Miss Fanny Ball. It is not too mush to say that these ladies created a sensation on their arrival in the pleasant southern city. Mrs. O’Brien, then about twenty-two years of age, was strikingly handsome ; tall, slight in figure, and stately in carriage. She dressed with elegance, and the fashions of the day— the Spanish beaver hat and feathers, and the long pelisse of puce, maroon or carmelite velvet—suited her admirably. The young matron was the observed of all observers, without, however, casting into the shade her sister’s girlish grace and classic beauty. Mary Aikenhead soon made the acquaintance of the strangers : of whom, indeed, she had oftentimes heard her friend, Miss Lynch, speak in the highest terms. She knew already that Mrs. O'Brien held a distinguished place in Catholic society in Dublin, and devoted a great deal of her time to the care of the poor and afflicted ; but she could hardly have been pre¬ pared to see “ a Sister of Charity living in the world,” appearing thus in the guise of a woman of fashion: for such was the impression made at first sight by that lady’s majestic presence and exquisite attire. Possibly the surprise only heightened the interest of a meeting, which had in it the inexplicable prevision of a near and dear relationship, and was, in truth, the first beginning of a friendship which was quick in growth, serious in results, and life-long in duration. Before leaving Cork Mrs. O’Brien pressed Miss Aikenhead to spend some time with her in Dublin. The invitation was gladly accepted; and, in the course of the following year, Mary travelled to the capital, and remained for a considerable time the guest of her new friends, Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien, at their town residence in the lately-built Mountjoy-square. CHAPTER IV. DUBLIN AFTER THE UNION—CATHOLIC LIFE—OLD CHAPELS— DANIEL MURRAY—ST. CLARE’S CONVENT. RY AIKENHEAD’S visit to the Irish capital was more like a transplantation to a new climate than a removal from one province to another of the same land. Dublin was a contrast to gay, busy, self-satisfied Cork. The city had not recovered from the shock which the Union had given to its prosperity. The streets were deserted, most of the fine HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 113 houses were shut up, the silence of the once lively thoroughfare was uninterrupted, save by sullen mutterings and heart-broken complaints. The general depression which prevailed was rendered all the more intense by the mournful beauty of the city itself, whose buildings, with their fair colonnades of Portland stone and their sparkling granite fronts as yet unstained by time, looked like nothing but monuments of a prosperity untimely ruined, and of hopes sunk in an early grave. And, as if to add a stroke of irony to the injuries already inflicted, the plans which, some years before the Union, had been adopted for the still further improvement of the city, were only brought to a completion when there seemed to be no longer any need for opening up communi¬ cations and beautifying public places. Sackville-street, which origi¬ nally had extended only from Rutland-square to Abbey-street, was now opened up from the Rotundo to the new bridge; but there seemed no particular purpose served by its dreary elongation, except when a martial viceroy chose to order a review of troops to take place there, for the reassurance of the dispirited citizens. 1 The narrow streets and tortuous lanes which had filled up the space between the House of Lords and the river, had recently disappeared to give place to a handsome street, extending from College-street to the bridge, and perfecting the communication—a convenience hardly then appreciated —between the north and south sides of the city. College-green had lapsed into a silence almost as complete as that which oppressed the place when it was known as “ the village of Hoggin Green, near Dublin.” There was no stir thereabout, except in the evening, when strangers and idlers assembled to see the mail-coaches turn out from the yard of the old Post Office, and start for the different roads, north, south, and west: every coach provided with a double guard armed with blunderbus and pistols, and escorted by a dragoon on the right hand and the left, to see the convoy safe some two or three stages out of town. When the members of Parliament had been obliged to take the road to London, the Irish nobility broke up their Dublin establishments, and the gentry remained all the year in their country mansions, striving, though perhaps with only half a will, to retrieve the fortune which a succession of extravagant seasons in the capital had helped to ruin. Dublin sank to the position of a provincial town, and the pecuniary loss to the inhabitants was estimated as equal to the with- 1 Lord Cathcart (April, 1804,) reviewed the infantry of the garrison, about 5,000 men, in Sackville-street: the line extending from Carlisle Bridge into Blessington-street, beyond the Barley Fields (the site on which the foundations of St. George’s Church had recently been laid). During that and the following year—perhaps for longer—signs of the times were conspicuous on every house-front in Sackville-street, as well as in other quarters of the city. Householders were obliged to paste on their door a paper mentioning the names and occu¬ pation of all residing in the house. 114 MARY AIKENHEAD : drawal of one million annually of circulating cash. The grievance complained of by the citizens was therefore anything but a sentimental one. In fact it was only too evident now, that when the Imperial united standard was unfurled on Dublin Castle, and the bells of St. Patrick’s Cathedral rang a peal to commemorate the enactment of the Legislative Union, the flaunting banner was but the sign of irretriev¬ able disaster, and the bells smote the ear as the knell of civic pros¬ perity. 1 2 Protestants and Catholics alike suffered from the new state of things. The former, more accustomed to give free expression to their opinion on public questions, complained the loudest, and were in fact the first repealers. But, to the Catholics, though they spoke less openly on the subject, the Union was specially abhorrent: for the Act was, in their regard, only a fresh betrayal. They had been assured, on the faith of a minister of the British crown, that Emancipation was to follow the accomplishment of the Union. Archbishop Troy and some of the clergy and laity, believing that no price would be too great to pay for the liberation of the Catholic millions, lent their aid in dis¬ arming opposition to the measure. The Union was carried, the bells were rung; but the Catholics seemed as far as ever from the day of their deliverance. There had entered, however, a new grief into the life-history of the people, and the temper of the hour was a hectic alternation of sullen self-reproach and fierce exasperation. There were other reasons, too, for the sadness that brooded over the city and found voice in the homes of the people. The late insur¬ rections had left terrible traces in every direction. A multitude of families had lost relatives by a bloody or ignominious death; friends were in exile, some in France, some in America, some no one knew where ; from the country parts not a few had made their way to the 1 O'Connell heard the bells, and was maddened to think of “ a joyful peal ringing for Ireland’s degradation, as if it was a glorious national festival.” Twenty-seven years later the Catholics were emancipated; St. Patrick’s bells rang no peal, but the news was an¬ nounced in tongues of fire all over the land. “ I was a boy,” writes Mr. Aubrey de Yere, “when that great measure was passed, but I have not forgotten it; I can recollect standing upon the steps before my father’s house, and as I watched the fires of rejoicing which lit up their luminous cypher along the distants hills, growing numerous by degrees as the glow of a summer’s evening dissolved, some portion of that enthusiasm which is not denied to the hearts of the very young in a country however outworn kindled within me.”—“English Misrule and Irish Misdeeds,” 2nd edition, p. 96. 2 A strange light is thrown on this subject in the “ Memoirs of Colonel Miles Byrne,” who, having fought on the popular side in ’98, escaped to France, entered Buonaparte’s Irish Legion, and in course of time rose to a high rank in the army of France. When the legion was at Mayence, in 1806, 1,500 Poles who had been in the Prussian army, asked to enter the French ranks after the battle of Jena. They were incorporated into the Irish Legion, and with them came a great number of Irishmen. The latter, implicated in the rebellion of ’98 and taken prisoners, were, during their captivity in Ireland, sold by the English Government to the King of Prussia to work in the mines. When hostilities were about to commence with France, these miners, being very strong and intelligent men, were obliged to enter the Prussian ranks. Their delight was great, when subsequently they found HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. I *5 capital seeking the safety which is often found in a crowd, and hoping to make out subsistence in following very humble paths, oppressed with a grief for which there was no cure, and adding their own sorrow to the common stock. And yet, despite the troubles of the time, the Catholics of Dublin had kept a firm hold on whatever advantage they had painfully acquired : nay more, they were actually rising into importance. For some generations past the Catholics’ only opening to advancement had been through the trading ranks. This was so obvious, and the pressure of poverty had become so intolerable, that some of the old gentry sent their younger sons to Dublin to be brought up to mercan¬ tile pursuits. These young men in course of time grew into rich, middle-aged merchants, enjoying the luxuries if not the honours of life, and, proud of the success which enabled them to surround their family with comforts and elegancies, regarded with anything but envy the rights of primogeniture which secured to the heir of the family distinctions a sinecure title and a roofless castle. By-and-by opinion in this direction extended still further, and it came to be considered creditable to enlist in the industrial ranks rather than vegetate in gentlemanly idleness, or starve on pride alone. What had been respectable a generation or two earlier as typifying fidelity to principle was now looked upon as. nothing better than an absurd adhesion to antiquated conceits. Many of the Dublin merchants and traders had, their Catholicity notwithstanding, amassed considerable wealth, and attained a position socially high though politically unim¬ portant. Fortunately they were to a great extent engaged in branches of business hardly if at all affected by the Union, such as brewing, distilling, discounting, and provisioning the troops on service in the Peninsula, and therefore safely tided over the crisis that had proved the ruin of so many of their fellow-citizens. Mary Aikenhead, on coming to Dublin, found herself in the midst of this thoroughly Catholic, prosperous, but unemancipated circle. Mrs. O’Brien’s father, Mr. Ball, had in pre-union times amassed a consider¬ able fortune in the silk trade, which, introduced into Dublin by the themselves enrolled with their countrymen in the Irish Legion. Among them Miles Byrne recognised several (and he gives their names) who had been out with him in Wexford and Wicklow; and Captain Ware of the same corps found many who had fought by his side in Kildare. Mallowney, a man who had been wounded at Castlebar, and sentenced to trans¬ portation, attained to the rank of Sergeant-Major in the Prussian army. He got the same position in the Irish Legion, and in the campaign of 1813 was one of the most distinguished captains in the regiment. The rations, the pay, and the whole condition of the French army were so superior to those of the Prussian troops, that the Poles and the Irish were enchanted with the French service. Marshal Kellerman was greatly pleased with the appearance of the men when he reviewed the corps a few days later; he complimented the Irish, saying that their bravery was proverbial, and their attachment to France well-known ; he also told them that he had been, when a boy, a cadet in one of the regiments of the Irish Brigade.—“Memoires d’un Exile Irlandais.” Tome Premier, 431-32. 116 MARY AIKENHEAD : Huguenot refugees and fostered by their industry, had become a flourishing branch of manufacture. Mr. Ball’s house of business had been in Werburgh-street, his residence was in Eccles-street. Mrs. O’Brien’s only brother, destined to be the second Catholic raised to the judicial bench after emancipation, as Judge of the Common Pleas, was now going through college preparatory to being called to the bar. Among his friends and fellow-Catholics who were studying with the same view, and who succeeded like him in reaching a position hitherto unattained by “ Irish Papists,” were Michael O’Loghlen, in course of time the first Catholic Master of the Rolls in Ireland since the reign of James II.; Richard Lalor Sheil, the future orator, writer, minister at the court of Tuscany, and Vice-President of the Board of Trade; Stephen Woulfe, afterwards Chief Baron of the Exchequer; and Thomas Wyse, who died while British minister at the court of Athens. All these young men, with the exception of O’Loghlen, received their education, first at Stonyhurst, and secondly at the University of Dublin. 1 Mr. John O’Brien was a partner in a highly respectable mercantile house engaged in the foreign import trade, whence he derived a handsome income ; his brothers, his sisters, and his partners, were all in good circumstances ; the friends of the family were for the most part wealthy and in the same position ; all were alike remarkable for their charity to the poor and their liberality in supporting the clergy, the chapels, and the few institutions which it had been possible to establish in the difficult times not yet passed away. Mrs. O’Brien, universally admired as she was, had no more sincere sympathiser than her husband, who, approving her tastes and placing unbounded confidence in her judgment, allowed her full liberty of action and the command of a well-replenished purse. She had very decided notions concerning the duty of Catholics at that particular time; they should not any longer continue, she thought, to hide in back streets, to wear that cowering expression which distinguished them in public places from their Protestant fellow-countrymen, to allow themselves to be jostled off a path which they had as much right as any of their countrymen to tread. Mrs. O’Brien assuredly was no discredit to her party ; it would have been hard to find any shortcoming in her or her surroundings ; everything about her was in the very best taste ; her house was elegantly appointed, her carriages and horses were unex¬ ceptionable, her own presence was singularly imposing. Mary Aikenhead was not long in discovering the raison d'etre of all this care and expenditure ; nor was she long in finding out what interests 1 Interesting sketches of the Right Hon. Judge Ball, Sir Michael O’Loghlen, Bart., the Right Hon. Richard Lalor Sheil, and the Right Hon. Stephen Woulfe, will be found in Mr. O’Flanagan’s “Bar Life of O’Connell.” For Sir Thomas Wyse, K.C.B., see Mr. Webb’s “ Compendium of Irish Biography.” HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 117 were the dearest of all to her friend. These were the interests of the Catholic community, and everything connected with the poor, the helpless, the afflicted; the very subjects, in fact, which most engaged her own sympathies. In the morning the two friends were sure to be engaged in helping some work belonging to one or another of the chapels; in the afternoon they went about, still with some good in view ; in the evening their delight was to wrap themselves in their cloaks and take their way through miserable lanes and up crazy stairs, bringing to the sick and poor food for the body and comfort for the soul. The Catholic chapels of that day were invariably hid away in the meanest quarters of the city; a stranger would find it difficult to recognise their sacred character and distinguish the house of God from the stables, the hucksters’ stores, and the old furniture shops that closely pressed upon its walls. Unsightly structures were these old chapels, but sacred as the oratories of the Catacombs. They had sheltered the flock; the supplications of the faithful, sent up within the sombre walls, had filled the angels’ censers whose incense is the prayers of saints ; the voice of true shepherds had been heard from their pulpits, animating, strengthening, and consoling the stricken sheep. Each of these chapels had its traditions, its special character¬ istics—something or another which made it a place of pilgrimage as well as a house of prayer. The parish chapel of the Ball family was that of St. Michan, in Mary’s-lane, and was remarkable for having been successively served during a long course of years by members of the Society of Jesus, whose houses and schools had early been established in Ireland. Whenever it had been possible to do so the Jesuits lived in their residences and colleges ; when they dared not do so, they accepted shelter and hospitality in the houses of the Catholic gentry, or shared the duty of the secular clergy. At an early period they had a residence in the parish of St. Michan, and from that house sent out auxiliaries who had been trained in the colleges of the society in Italy, Portugal, Belgium, Germany, and France, to aid the parish priests in town and country. St. Michan’s had, after as well as before the suppression of the society, a succession of pastors who were sons of St. Ignatius. The devotions practised in the Jesuit churches throughout the world were kept up in Mary’s-lane chapel, which on that account was greatly frequented by the pious. The altar was attended to by ladies of the parish, among the number being Miss Fanny Ball, and everything was therefore kept in becoming order. In Rosemary-lane stood the parish chapel of St. Michael and St. John. The pastor was the venerable Jesuit, Dr. Betagh, who, bent with age and worn out with toil, was still to be seen in his chapel MARY AIKENHEAD : 118 during the morning hours, in the schools during the afternoon, and in a wretched cellar at night whither young men who had been at work in the day-time came for instruction when their toil was over. On Sundays he slowly ascended the pulpit and preached to a large congregation who read a touching homily in the very appearance of the venerable man. The people of Dublin held him in extraordi¬ nary veneration, and often wondered what would become of the Catholics of the city when Dr. Betagh should be called to his reward. In that lowly chapel the finest pulpit oratory had oftentimes been heard : Father Austin had preached there, and so had the former pastor, the eloquent Jesuit, Father John Murphy. Once on a time, too, the pulpit had been occupied by the now recently deceased Dean Kirwan—the humble Franciscan friar in his early days, the great preacher of the Protestant Church in his later life. Dr. Betagh, it was said, had not thought very highly of Father Kirwan as a priest, or of his style of oratory, which was, in his opinion, very theatrical and exciting, and quite out of place in the little old chapel of Rosemary- lane. 1 The chapel to which the O’Briens usually went was that of their parish, St. Mary’s, in Liffey-street. The archbishop, Dr. Troy, fre¬ quently officiated in this lowly edifice, which, not daring to show its front even in an obscure street, hid itself amongst a cluster of houses and could only be approached by a narrow passage leading from the pathway. The interior was not cheerful, for the windows, which were small and ranged on one side only of the building, admitted no more than a sort of twilight to play on the low ceiling, the gloomy galleries, and the one thing of beauty in the sacred edifice—a lovely Virgin and Child, copied after Raphael, and hung over the altar. The chapel was not half large enough for the congregation ; and on Sundays the little yard, the narrow passage, and the street itself, were filled with an eagerly pious crowd striving to get as near as possible even to the external wall. From shortly before noon until one o’clock, at which hours respectively the last Masses were said, the patter of footsteps on the rough pathway was silenced by the clatter of hoofs and the roll of wheels on the roadway, for according to the fashion of that day all who had carriages rode in state to chapel. It i See in Dr. W. J. Fitzpatrick’s “Ireland before the Union” a very interesting memoir of Dean Kirwan. In D. O. Madden’s “ Revelations of Ireland ” a curious incident is re¬ lated. At the consecration of the Catholic Bishop, Dr. Nihell, the sermon was preached by Walter Kirwan, afterwards Protestant Dean of Killala. The preacher chose for his topic Apostasy ! Dr. Butler, then Bishop of Cork, was present. The sermon was eloquent and striking; it pleased the assembled clergy. Three or four years later, the preacher himself conformed to the Established Church; and Dr. Butler, having inherited the title of Baron Dunboyne, renounced the priestly character, read his recantation, and married a cousin of his own. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS 119 was considered only right and becoming to have one’s best horses and liveries seen in the labyrinth of lanes surrounding the parochial and conventual chapels. The intrusion on the scene of cumbrous family coaches might have seemed in some respects anything rather than desirable ; but the pedestrian part of the congregation who were the sufferers, so far from taking umbrage at this arrangement gave it their highest approval. The going at mid-day and in high style to Mass was held equivalent to a profession of faith; and gentlemen who habitually preferred early devotions in undress subjected themselves to injurious comment. There was no better place, especially on a charity sermon day, for seeing the Catholics of Dublin than Liffey-street and its precincts. The supporters of the charity, the admirers of the preacher, Archbishop Troy’s particular friends, the Catholics of note throughout the city, mustered in full force on these occasions ; and a crowd of people, who, not having a pound or thirty-shilling note to lay down on the collector’s plate, would have thought it improper to enter the chapel and take up the place of a wealthier audience, remained outside and amused themselves with observing the families of the merchants and manufacturers as they arrived from the quays, or from Henry-street, or by the Smithfield side. Then, indeed, an inquiring stranger would have an excellent opportunity of hearing a popular account of the different families and learning all their genealogies. As the carriages of the Byrnes, the Mahons, the MacDonnells, and O’Briens ; the Sweetmans, the Balls, and the Murphys ; the D’Arcys, and Powers, and Molloys, and Keoghs, drove up, the bystanders freely made their remarks ; and an attentive listener would not be left long in igno¬ rance of the private worth, the commercial character, the presumed wealth of the portly gentlemen who descended with their wives in nodding plumes, their fair daughters in silk pelisses and laced flounces, their sons in suits of Spanish blue and olive green brilliant with gilt basket buttons, and proceeded to enter by the straight way and the narrow gate. There was a special attraction, however, for Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien in the Liffey-street chapel. One of the curates of the parish, a very dear friend of theirs, officiated and frequently preached in that chapel. There was something singularly pleasing in his appearance and edify¬ ing in his deportment: his eyes were clear and dark, a fine forehead indicated the benevolence of his character ; his hair, disembarrassed of powder and queue, fell loosely behind; his erect carriage, elastic step, and graceful movements gave him somewhat the air of a youthful abbe of the old school. When at the altar his devout recollection was so impressive that the pious liked to attend his Mass; while the earnest, well-delivered homilies he pronounced struck home to the hearts of his audience, who oftentimes felt that they derived greater 120 MARY AIKENHEAD : benefit from the curate’s simple words than from a more ornate and highly-lauded oratory. Mary Aikenhead had already met this clergyman, the Rev. Daniel Murray, at the house of her friend, Miss Lynch, in Cork ; but the pleasing impression which his conversation had then made on her Avas now more than confirmed in the friendly intercourse she had with him in the company of Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien. He was constantly at their house, and not unfrequently after his early Mass on week days, which they attended, walked with them to Mountjoy-square, where they breakfasted together. This social meal was greatly enjoyed by Mary Aikenhead, who found the conversation of the hour exceedingly interesting. A good deal of charitable business work Avas discussed and organised on these occasions. The Rev. Daniel Murray, though hardly yet forty years of age, had acquired considerable experience. He was Avell acquainted Avith the condition of the Catholic population—the difficulties and vexations which the wealthier classes met at every turn, and the countless forms of misery that pressed upon the poor, whose sufferings the Govern¬ ment took no trouble to alleviate, and Avhose destitution the plundered church Avas powerless to relieve. Born in 1768, near Arklow, in the county of WickloAV, his earliest ambition Avas to serve God at the altar and to minister to the poor and despised of his own nation. His family, considering the social state of the Catholics of their day, occupied a good position; for several generations past the Murrays 1 had been left in undisturbed possession of a good farm ; their character stood high ; it was not the landlord’s interest to lose such excellent tenants, and the respect in Avhich the family were held by all ranks, hedged them round in evil days, and saved them from plunder and dispersion. Young Daniel was sent to Dublin to make his preparatory studies in Dr. Betagh’s famous school, where his studious habits, gentle manners, and unobtrusive piety soon won for him the venerable Jesuit’s special regard. When sixteen years of age, he Avent to Sala¬ manca to make his theological studies in halls well filled with ardent youths—aspirants to the priesthood—from every province of dear old Ireland. Having been ordained in 1790, he returned to his native country, and after some time was appointed curate in the town of Arklow. While there he often had the happiness of offering up the Holy Sacrifice for his aged mother in the old home. By-and-by the events of 1798 spread desolation over the land and destroyed the peace of every household. ArkloAV was the scene of a terrible affray ; 1 Murray is a very ancient name in Ireland. One of the race was King of Connaught A.D. 696. The princely family of the O’Conors were of the Clan-Murray race. Roscom¬ mon was anciently called Siol-Murray, or the country of the Murrays ; a district in Wicklow also derived its name from them. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 121 the old parish priest was murdered in his bed ; and his curate escaped by a sort of miracle, for he was fired at as he crossed the river at Shelton Abbey. His only safety was in flight; and so, taking horse, he rode to Dublin by a route full of difficulties and danger. The archbishop appointed him as curate in St. Andrew’s parish, whence, after some time, he was removed to St. Mary’s, to labour in the midst of a multitudinous flock destitute of nearly all the common resources of a Catholic community. It was enough to make his heart sink within him to witness the misery accumulated in the crowded back streets and lanes of the metropolitan parish, and to look around in vain for any adequate means of relieving their temporal distress or ministering to their grievous spiritual needs. But Daniel Murray’s courage failed not ; his soul was enflamed with that zeal which obstacles serve only to intensify; and, well understanding that “ in this theatre of man’s life it is reserved only for God and angels to be lookers-on,” he devoted all the strength and energy of an ardent yet withal patient nature to the perfect fulfilment of the laborious every¬ day duties of the hard-worked city priest. But though his works were humble and his labours spent in obscure fields, the saintly character of his aspirations, his complete self-devotion, and his singular ability were not unrecognised. The clergy of the diocese—many of them venerable in years when compared with him—looked on the Liffey- street curate with more than ordinary respect; his great old master, Dr. Betagh, watched his course with the liveliest sympathy, sustaining him in hope and courage; and the archbishop marked him as one rarely gifted by grace and nature, and destined to do good service to the Church and the people. Meanwhile, Mary Aikenhead did not forget that the principal object of her visit to Dublin was to redeem the promise made to Miss Lynch, visit the convent of St. Clare at Harold’s-cross, and learn what was the spirit of that institute and what were the charitable works to which the community were devoted. Just at that moment the Poor Clares and their new convent were a subject of considerable interest to the Catholics of Dublin, who spoke much of the past history and future prospects of a sisterhood which, like the daughters of St. Dominic, had clung to the land throughout the evil times and suffered with the people. They seemed to have been endowed with inextin¬ guishable life; and the story of their sufferings and vicissitudes was more like a chapter of romance than the annals of a religious order. At one time they were forced to sail away to Spain, at another time they had to disperse over the country and hide among their relatives and friends. Now they were arrested and carried before the Lord Deputy; and again the Lords Justices issued orders for their appre¬ hension, and at four o’clock in the morning a band of soldiers sur¬ rounded the convent and carried the nuns before the court. On one io 122 MARY AIKENHEAD : occasion, when the soldiery attacked their convent, they had barely time to escape in boats across the lake, on whose shore they had fancied they might be suffered to dwell in peace. About the middle of the eighteenth century there was a community of Poor Clares in North King-street in Dublin. The nuns wore no particular habit only a black stuff gowm with plain linen ; were much visited by their friends and the pious Catholics to whom the convent chapel was like a glimpse of heaven itself; and went about very much as ladies living quietly in the world might do ; thankful for the pity or the forgetfulness that left them unmolested for an interval. 1 2 Later on some of the community removed to Dorset-street, and having a more convent-like building to dwell in were able to live in closer conformity with their original rule. The situation was not as secluded as might be desired, and their meditations were not a little interrupted by the performances of their next-door neighbours, Macklin the actor and his pupils, who, in a garden “separated only by a wall not very high” from the nuns’ enclosure, were wont to go through their exercises in sock and buskin, and train their voices for the stage.2 After a time the lease of the nunnery expired. The community being unable to pay the exorbitant sum demanded for its renewal, were in the utmost distress. Dissolution of the community was im¬ minent when heaven sent them unlooked-for aid. Mrs. O’Brien and some members of her family, together with a few charitable friends, were just then engaged in establishing an orphanage for the protec¬ tion and education of destitute girls. It was now proposed to the Poor Clares to take charge of this institution. On their consenting to do so the preliminary arrangements were completed, and there remained nothing more to do than to provide a suitable tenement for the nuns and their family of orphans. This however proved no easy matter. The prejudice against Popery and Romish religious persons was so great that landlords would not lease their houses to a community of nuns. The intrusion of a convent and its appurtenances into a re¬ spectable neighbourhood would have been counted highly detrimental to its interests and its character. A desirable house with sufficient 1 Mrs. Delany in one other amusing letters (January 19, 1751) tells of Miss Crilly, a nun and an old friend of her husband the Dean of Down, coming to dine with them at Delville. In this country, says Mrs. Delany, nuns have the liberty of going to see their relatives and particular friends. Miss Crilly had been ten years in France, and was extremely sprightly, civil and entertaining. After dinner Mrs. Delany carried her home to the convent in King- street, and having been invited to drink tea with the nuns, finished the evening in their company very agreeably. She saw their chapel and played on the organ, and admired their handsome reception-room, &c. &c. Writing at a later date Mrs. Delany says she does not see her nun Miss Crilly as often as she should like to do, ‘ ‘ as people are so offended here if those nuns are much taken notice of, that I should be thought disaffected ."—“Autobiography and Letters.” First Series, vol. iii. 2 See an entertaining account of these performances “ in full hearing of their religious next-door neighbours” in O’Keefe’s “Recollections,” vol. i., pp. 284-6. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 123 garden room was offered for sale at Harold’s-cross, and the nuns’ friends longed to see them become its owners. It was procured for them—so at any rate ran the story—by a good friend, a lawyer, who gave the original proprietor no further information than that it was wanted by a lady with a great many sisters ; and the mother-abbess and her community were in possession of the place before the inhabi¬ tants of the vicinity had any suspicion of the objectionable character of their new neighbours. When the truth burst on their indignant minds, expulsion was impossible ; all they could do was to hide the abode of the lady and her sisters as much as possible from public view; and this they proceeded to do by the erection of a very high wall. This proved to be about the best service that could have been rendered to the daughters of St. Clare, who were quite as anxious to exclude the great world from their view as the respectable people of the fashionable suburb were impatient to wall up the nuns. The archbishop was much interested in the institution, and on his solicita¬ tion a Rescript was given by the Holy See for such alterations and mitigations of the rule as were absolutely necessary for the new duties imposed on the community. However much Mary Aikenhead would have liked to join her friend Cecilia Lynch, she felt no attraction to the order of the Fran¬ ciscans. She saw at a glance that she could not find what she was in search of in the convent of St. Clare. In any case it would have been impossible for her to enter a convent just then. Home duties of a serious nature had devolved on her, and she felt that the claims of her family ought first to be satisfied. That there might remain no doubt in her mind on this point she resolved to consult the Rev. Mr. Murray on her spiritual affairs, for on his sanctity and judgment she felt she might implicitly rely. He entirely coincided in her view that she could not conscientiously take the step she desired as long as she was so much needed at home. Not the less firmly resolved to dedicate her life to the service of God in the poor, and not the less hopeful that a way would be opened to her at the right moment, she returned to Cork, and with the cheerful serenity that characterised her resumed the old routine with its real cares, its constant occupations, and its innocent relaxations. For the rest, works of piety and charity were undertaken and carried on with greater zeal than ever. If Mary Aikenhead did not as yet pass through miry lanes and ascend rickety stairs in the habit of a Sister of Charity, she was nevertheless a vision of delight, and a most sweet consoler to the poor whom she sought out in their obscurity, made much of in their abjection, and was busy about in deed and in thought from morning until night. The chapel which she at this time frequented was that of the south parish, in which the coadjutor bishop officiated. The Stacpoles, great benefactors of the chapel as we have already said, had their 124 MARY AIKENHEAD : pew on the right-hand side ; while on the left the Bullen family had theirs. Other families of note also had seats in that chapel. The catechism classes were conducted with the greatest care and regularity under Dr. MacCarthy’s supervision. Some gentlemen and ladies of the congregation remained after the last Mass to teach the children : among the most indefatigable in this duty being Mary Aikenhead. Dr. MacCarthy himself always took part in the examination of the classes, and he was accustomed to wind up by giving a short instruc¬ tion from the pulpit. On these occasions he adapted his language to the lowest capacity, while at the same time his discourse was extremely interesting and instructive to the educated part of his auditory. He made it a rule, as we are told by one who knew him well, to relate the history of some one of the remarkable characters recorded in the scriptures, impressing the minds of his hearers with such practical moral truths as happened to arise out of the subject. His words were not lost on Mary Aikenhead ; nor did the influence of his remarkable personal character lessen as long as she had the good fortune to continue within its spell. He was a fine type of the vigilant pastor, the accomplished gentleman, the man of heart and intellect. But most of all was he admirable in his charity: he was emphatically the friend and the apostle of the poor. 1 Before long an event occurred which brought sorrow into the home of the Aikenheads, and seemed to remove the realisation of Mary’s hopes to a still more remote future. Mrs. Aikenhead was suddenly attacked with illness, and after three days of suffering died, leaving to her eldest child the sole charge of the family. Although virtually more closely bound than ever, Mary after a time—her sisters having been placed as boarders at the Ursuline Convent— found herself to a certain extent personally free. Thus she was able towards the close of 1809 to visit again her Dublin friends. 1 Florence MacCarthy was born in Macroom, in 1761, and was a younger brother in a family of ancient lineage. His parents went to reside at Killarney, where dwelt Dr. Moylan, then Bishop of Kerry. The boy soon attracted the affectionate interest of the bishop, who appointed him, in 1777, to a place in the Irish College at Rome, where he remained fox- eight years. He obtained his degree as Doctor in Divinity before he was twenty-five years of age ; and was held in high estimation. One of the Cardinals, then Secretary of State, having determined to go on a tour through Italy and a part of France, made choice of Dr. MacCarthy as the companion of his journey, and sent to the Irish College an invitation to that effect. But the youthful Doctor of Divinity had already quitted Rome for his own country. He arrived in 1785, and became curate to Dr. Moylan at Killarney. When the Bishop of Kerry was promoted to the See of Cork, he made Dr. MacCarthy his Vicar- General, and placed him over the parish of St. Peter and St. Paul; whence some years later he was removed to the south parish, the Catholic population of which numbered more than 20,000 souls. In 1803, he was named Bishop of Antinoe and coadjutor to Dr. Moylan. He still continued to discharge the laborious duties of a missionary in common with the curates of his parish: his iron constitution enabling him to go through an immense amount of work in the pulpit, in the confessional, and among the poor .—Sermon preached at the Office for the repose of the soul of the Bishop of Antinoe, by the Rev. John Ryan. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. *25 CHAPTER V. THE NEW ARCHBISHOP—THE VETO—FATHER KENNY—SISTERS OF CHARITY FOR IRELAND. OME noteworthy events had taken place in the interval between Mary Aikenhead’s first and second visits to Dublin. But the event which most intimately concerned the circle of ardent Catholics, of which the O’Brien family were such conspicuous members, was the advancement of their cherished friend, the curate of Liffey-street, to the episcopal dignity. Daniel Murray was now Archbishop of Hierapolis, and coadjutor in the See of Dublin, having been consecrated on the 30th of November, 1809, in St. Mary’s chapel by the venerable Archbishop of Dublin : Dr. Betagh preaching the sermon appropriate to the occasion. 1 Mary Aikenhead entered fully into the delight of her friends at this happy change; yet it did not surprise her to hear that the announcement of his promotion to the mitre had been any¬ thing but a joy to the new archbishop, who was kept in total ignorance of his elevation until the mandate for his consecration arrived from Rome ; and that it required all Dr. Betagh’s authority and influence to prevent his refusal of the honour and the charge laid upon him. “Take care,” said his old master in a final appeal to the conscience of the reluctant son of the Church, “take care not to resist the grace of the Holy Ghost!” One day while Mary Aikenhead and Mrs. O’Brien were visiting at St. Clare’s, Sister Ignatius Lynch told her friend that Dr. Murray intended founding a congregation of Sisters of Charity, and that he had proposed to her to remain disengaged until the foundation could be made : “ but,” added the nun, “ not feeling up to the responsibility of a new order, I preferred remaining where I am.” “ Oh, Cecilia!” exclaimed Mary Aikenhead with uncommon earnestness, “ why did you not wait?” Mrs. O’Brien was struck with the feeling conveyed in these words and reported the expression to Dr. Murray, who treasured them as a good omen. About this time the bishop of Cork visited Dublin, and was informed of the project which Dr. Murray 1 Archbishop Troy writing, July 17, 1809, to Dr. Plunket, Bishop of Meath, says : “ Many important considerations have induced me to petition his Holiness for a coadjutor, cum titulo successionis. He has granted my request in the most gracious manner, and appointed Rev. Daniel Murray, of my chapel, whose character cannot be unknown to your lordship. I shall say nothing of it at present, but must add that the appointment has given general satisfaction to the clergy and laity.”—“Diocese of Meath,” voh iii., p. 385. 126 MARY AIKENHEAD : had at heart. As the two prelates on one occasion were speaking- of the projected foundation, Mary Aikenhead, who was present, kindling at the notion turned to her own bishop, fervently exclaiming: “ Oh ! my lord, when will you bring Sisters of Charity to Cork?” These simple words had the effect of strengthening Dr. Murray in his already formed opinion that she was herself the chosen instrument whom God would employ to carry out the work, and so fully was he convinced of this that he at once commissioned Mrs. O’Brien to endeavour to engage her friend’s consent and co-operation. Mary’s reply was that if an efficient superior and two or three members under¬ took the work, she should certainly think that in joining them she was doing what God required of her. Dr. Murray, greatly pleased with this answer, felt assured that a great heart and a sound head would not be wanting when the time came for commencing the work he was so anxious to inaugurate ; while Mary Aikenhead on her part thanked God for this manifest opening of the way, and for the great friend who had arisen to be her support and guide. On returning to the south she went on a visit to her relatives, Dr. and Mrs. Galhvey, then residing at Mallow. The friendship of this worthy pair Mary greatly valued. Mrs. Gallwey, Dr. Aikenhead’s only sister, was one of those earnest just-minded Protestants, who, never doubting the grounds of their own creed, allow to others the freedom of their convictions. Her niece had nothing to suffer in that household from the bad taste or unkindness of its members : but still as they were all Church-going people, the Catholic visitor found it no easy matter to attend to her religious duties. She could not reach the chapel for first Mass and then be home for the early meal; and when she desired to receive Holy Communion, a one o’clock breakfast was the consequence. Dr. Murray, who now kept up a correspondence with his young friend and well-beloved daughter in Christ, was far from approving a continuance of a practice such as this, which necessarily tended to injure health. He alludes to the subject in the following letter to her which bears the postmark of February 6, 1810, and is addressed in Mrs. O’Brien’s handwriting:— “ I know not, my dear friend, if you will attribute my present feelings to ill-nature; but I must own that I already anticipate, with some degree of merriment, your surprise and disappointment, at observing the difference between the present scroll, and the well-known writing of the address. I trust, however, that, after the first regrets of disappointed hope shall have passed away, you will set the matter down to an innocent trick, and after giving it still a little more reflection, some other reason will probably occur to you, which may more fully account for it. I would next proceed to apologise for my long and sullen silence, if apology to you, who know me so well, were not a mere waste of time. My wishes for your happiness have suffered no diminution, and if I did not express them to you more frequently, it is because I knew you did not deem it necessary, and that you would rest fully satisfied with hearing from me through our ever-valued friends. Even HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 127 now I would not, perhaps, break in on your present round of amusements, but for the anxiety you feel with regard to certain points materially affecting your happiness, and which anxiety I, perhaps, may be able to allay. The amiable person to whom you communicate your troubles feels too lively an interest in all that concerns you, to keep them secret from me. You besides gave her some encouragement to make them known, when you asked my sentiments regarding them, and I now give you those sentiments without reserve. “It is my decided opinion that you ought not to separate yourself permanently from your sisters, situated as they are at present. Indeed I don’t see how you could bring yourself to do so, without a very severe struggle of conscience. I could, I think, offer some very strong reasons in support of this opinion, but they seem to have already suggested themselves to your own mind, and they appear to me so obvious, that I cannot avoid expressing my surprise, that they have made no impression on your Cork Friend , unless perhaps he may be in possession of some information to which I am a stranger. No, my dear friend, be a protection to your sisters ; you are now the only parent they have to look to. Support them by your advice and example. To leave them at present would expose them to many dangers, and religion to much obloquy. If one of them were settled so as to be a protection to the other, or should any other circumstance arise which would leave them less in need of you, I would then by all means advise you to follow the inclinations which you have so long cherished, and which recent events have probably tended to confirm. Until there is a probability of your being soon able to carry your intentions into effect, I can see no reason for urging you to a decision, with regard to the particular spot which is to be the sphere of your duty. That, I think, you may with great safety, confine, for the present, within your own bosom. I never thought it right that you should finally commit yourself on that question, until all the obstacles to the accomplishment of your wishes should be removed. “My dear Mary, you will stand in more need than ever of all your strength of mind, and all the resources of grace to keep your heart disen¬ gaged from the world. Under every discouragement, attend to your religious duties, with all the fervour possible. Though I am not displeased to hear of your one o’clock breakfast, because it shows something of the spirit that I would wish to see in you, I must beg of you not to encounter a similar adventure while you remain at Mallow. During your continuance there, it will be enough for you to attend otherwise to your devotions in the best manner you can. You may, if you please, after your return, make yourself amends for the losses you may have sustained. Write to me soon, and make no apology for communicating your troubles to me, who can never learn them with indifference. You were too stiff in waiting for my reply to your last, before you would address another line to me. You see when I think I can be of any use to you, I do not grudge you a moment. Anna Maria will soon write to you. Adieu, “ Ever affectionately yours, “D. Murray.” The Anna Maria in the above is, of course, Mrs. O’Brien, who, early in the following summer, and while Mary Aikenbead was still with her relatives in Mallow, went there for the benefit of the waters. Mallow was at that time a place of fashionable as well as healthful resort. The spa enjoyed a high reputation, the air was balmy, the 128 MARY AIKENHEAD : scenery along the Blackwater most picturesque, and the pleasant company that assembled in the pretty town and tried the warm springs as much for amusement as from necessity, added considerably to the attraction of the place. The waters and the air, aided in their efforts no doubt by Mary Aikenhead’s pleasant company, soon produced a beneficial change in Mrs. O’Brien, and the cough which had caused her friends considerable uneasiness began to disappear. Before it was thought safe for her to return to town, however, her friend had to leave for Cork. Mary’s relatives, it would appear, were not pleased at finding her stay away from them so often and so long: they were, in fact, beginning to feel jealous of her Dublin friends ; and she thought it best to please them and return home. The following letter, written to her by Dr. Murray shortly after her return to Cork, touches on these subjects, and contains an interesting reference to his own connection and that of Dr. Everard with the lately founded Royal College of Maynooth. 1 “ Dublin , \th July, 1810. “ My dear Mary, “ I received your valued letter in due course, but knew you would not be much disappointed by my want of strict punctuality in answering it. I cannot, however, omit the opportunity which the return of your vener¬ able bishop affords me, of expressing the pleasure I felt at hearing of your safe arrival and kind reception by those friends, whose affections you were most anxious to retain. Surely the sacrifice you made, in separating your¬ self from our dear friend, at such an interesting moment, ought to be suffi¬ cient to set at rest all the jealousies which your absence had produced. I trust, however, that her health has not suffered. She speaks highly of Miss O’R.’skind and watchful attention ; but Miss O’R. can be but a poor substi¬ tute for the friend from whom she parted. She has, I suppose, informed 1 Dr. Everard was a fine-looking handsome man, with something of a princely air about him. Having been educated at Salamanca, he settled at Bordeaux, and remained there until driven out by the Revolution. He then fixed his residence at Ulverstone, in Lancashire, and kept a private school: his pupils being the sons of Catholic gentlemen of rank and fortune. Dr. Everard was held in great respect by all, and had many friends among the Protestant clergy; his school proved a lucrative undertaking, and he was happy in the life he led. When called to Ireland to give his aid to the struggling Church, he did not conceal how much he felt at leaving the home and society so congenial to his tastes. Nothing but an imperious sense of duty could have reconciled him to the change. Having been for some time President of Maynooth, he was named coadjutor of Dr. Bray, whom he eventually succeeded in the See of Cashel. His private fortune enabled him to live inde¬ pendent of support from the archdiocese. He died in March, 1821.—For some of these particulars, see a letter in the Freeman's Journal, April 13, 1821. The number of Salamanca students who attained distinction in the Irish Church is a remarkable fact. Dr. W. J. Fitzpatrick, in his “Life of Dr. Doyle” (p. 192), says : “ A high Spanish dignitary having visited the college in 1790, was particularly struck by the demeanour of the Irish students, and broke out in a fervent prediction as to their future distinction in the Church. The prophesy was fulfilled. From 1809 to 1816 the sees of Cashel, Dublin, Tuam, Ossory, Ardagh, and Clogher, were successively filled by the Rev. Messrs. Everard, Murray, Kelly, Marum, Magaurin, and Kernan. And last of all came, in 1819, the ‘Professor,’ Dr. Curtis himself.” HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 129 you how rapidly her strength is returning, and I see no reason to doubt it. Much as she may wish to avoid giving pain to her friends, she would not say roundly, ‘ my cough is gone, and I am quite myself again,’ if she did not experience a very material change for the better. May God in his mercy perfect her recovery, and preserve her to the many to whose happiness her valuable life is so essential. “ How delighted I am that your dear Margaret is becoming everything that you wish. I am sure you will have no very insuperable objection to allow her another year’s improvement where she is ; I hope, however, there is no danger that she will contract an unreasonable attachment to the place, or that all her perfections maybe exposed to be lost to the world, concealed from all but the holy daughters of St. Ursula. Believe me, Mary, that the charge which our friend omitted to mention, would not have been considered the most weighty. You give me much pleasure by telling me that you persevere in the discharge of your Christian duties. It is there, my dear child, that you will learn patience under all your trials, and unbounded confidence in that Being who has hitherto so mercifully watched over you. Let nothing separate you from Him. Cling to his altar as your best support, and your frequent and fervent union with Him who delights to strengthen the weak and console the afflicted will be a sure protection against all the efforts of your spiritual enemies. “ Tell me often how you are going on, and occupy no more of your paper with those idle apologies about teazing, etc. which may sound, indeed, very finely, but mean nothing. I must be now, for a few weeks, pretty much out of town, but not perhaps exactly for the purpose that you might be supposed to expect. My friend, Doctor Everard, is appointed to the presidentship of Maynooth; but as he cannot possibly make his arrangements so as to be able to leave England for a few weeks, and as the present President retires immediately, I was entreated by the Trustees of the College to take charge of that establishment, until Doctor E.’s arrival, which will be, I hope, some time before the end of next month. I resisted, you may be sure, as long as I could with any kind of propriety, but was at length compelled to submit. I shall, however, have my gig along with me, and can drive into town as often as I please. In consequence of this arrange¬ ment Doctor Troy proceeds on his visitation alone. “ Poor Helen has been greatly mortified at not being able to obtain leave to pay her visit to Cork, yet such is the young lady’s perfection that she would not even venture to express a wish to her mother on the subject, and all her brother Richard’s efforts in her favour were in vain. After scribbling over this, I think you can never again with justice accuse me of reluctance to read a long letter ; you may rest assured I shall feel none in reading yours. Celia is quite well ; I suppose she will not omit this opportunity of telling you so. She forgives the trick you played on her the day of her profession. Pray for me, dear Mary, and believe me always, “Your sincerely affectionate friend, “ D. Murray.” The gentle Helen mentioned above was one of the Simpson family, who were all great friends of Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien, and had early given Mary Aikenhead a place in their affectionate regard. Helen and her brothers, Richard, Thomas, and Stephen, proved zealous and life¬ long friends. Stephen, at the time we are now speaking of, had not arrived at man’s estate ; but he was most attentive and companionable, and often escorted Miss Aikenhead, as he had escorted Miss Lynch 130 MARY AIKENHEAD : some years earlier, in her walks through Dublin. His delight was to show the sights of the city to his young lady friends. Meanwhile a great sorrow visited Mary Aikenhead, and cast a gloom over the whole south of Ireland. Dr. MacCarthy, who had not reached his fiftieth year, fell a victim to one of those terrible fevers which constantly swept like a plague over the towns and rural districts of Ireland. His death was worthy of his life. Passing one day through a part of the city, not in his own district, but in which the fever was raging, he was asked to enter a house and see a patient who was at the point of death. A neighbour, knowing the virulence of the disease from which the poor creature suffered, begged of the bishop not to risk his life by going in. “I will go,” he answered, "and save that soul.” He did all that could be done for the dying man, took the contagion, and, after ten days’ illness, died on the igth June, 1810. In the following year Mary Aikenhead’s friends again induced her to spend some time with them in Dublin. The discussions on the projected foundation of a community of Sisters of Charity now took a more definite and serious form. How dear this undertaking was to Dr. Murrav’s heart was proved by the time and attention he devoted to the subject at a moment when the general affairs of the diocese would seem to demand all his thoughts, and while the state of public affairs kept the mind of all who .cared for the interests of the people and the safety of the Church in a state of constant tension and serious alarm. The Catholics of Dublin, who but a few years ago appeared to be hopelessly sunk in despondence, were now aroused to frenzy by the discussion of the Veto question. The instinct of the people, sharpened by experience and rendered sensitive by constant suffering, ■ was quick to scent the danger lurking in the specious overtures of the government, who sought, by once more holding out hopes of emanci¬ pation, to obtain a veto in the appointment of Catholic bishops. To the people the whole intricate question appeared resolvable into the simplest elements :—their rulers were making a desperate effort to bind in fetters the Church they could not destroy ; they had already duped the bishops, and were seeking to cajole the court of Rome ! Many of the bishops, it is true, in their anxiety to gain emancipation, had listened to the overtures of Pitt and Castlereagh ; and the court of Rome being under very great obligations to the British government, would have been willing to yield some minor points. Again, some of the Irish Catholics, and a considerable number of the English, were averse to the discussion of the question, and would have let the statesmen take their way, provided only that those Catholics who with difficulty were acquiring a position of comfort and respectability, were left undisturbed in their pursuit. But the bishops soon perceived the danger; and O’Connell, whose efforts to animate the people into HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 131 political vitality by agitating for emancipation had proved only partially successful, now carried all before him with the Veto for a rallying cry. “ I am against any arrangement that would compromise my religion ” cried the leader : “ if Emancipation be offered with the Veto, I would reject it with scorn !” And so also said the multitude. One thing was clear, namely, that Dr. Murray could not, even had he willed it, stand now aloof absorbed in diocesan affairs. For some years to come he had to hold himself ready, at short notice, to under¬ take journeys to Paris and to Rome, involving an absence of con¬ siderable duration from the centre of his dearest duties and interests. Among the clergy who were most strongly opposed to any com¬ promise of the Veto question was Dr. Betagh. While the agitation was at its height, the venerable Vicar-General, weighed down with years as with a load of honour, was called to his heavenly home. Who would have wished to prolong the days of one whose every nerve had been strained, and whose every faculty had been exerted in the service of the flock ? Well had he earned his rest and his reward. But the good Master whom he served had sent him a great joy, even while he toiled along the road fast narrowing to the grave. The Company of Jesus, in whose ranks he had enlisted in early manhood, and whose suppression had been regarded as a quite irretrievable calamity, were now mustering once more for the ceaseless warfare. That the formal restoration of the society would not be much longer delayed, he well knew ; and the re-establishment in Ireland of the sons of St. Ignatius at any early date, he believed, might confidently be expected. The first steps towards this re-establishment had in fact been taken. From among his own pupils young men had been selected for this under¬ taking, and they were finishing their studies and making their novitiate at Palermo. On one of these young men the aged father placed his dearest hopes ; and when he felt that his own days could not be much longer extended, he said to those around him, who in their sorrow believed that in losing him they were bereft of all : “ I have not long to be with you, but never fear, I am rearing a cock that will crow when I am gone, louder and sweeter for you than ever I did.” Dr. Betagh passed away on the 16th of February, 1811, and a few days later his remains were laid beside his brethren sleeping in the Jesuits’ vault in the graveyard adjoining the ancient and once Catholic church of St. Michan. Round the massive tower of St. Michan’s so vast an assemblage had never before been gathered. Many a mourner’s heart thrilled with emotion on that day, as he thought of all the precious relics St. Michan’s soil was keeping for “ the morning of the Resurrection of all, who, having greatly served the people or greatly suffered for them, were buried there in broad daylight in l 3 2 MARY AIKENHEAD : presence of a weeping crowd, or secretly carried thither at dead of night and laid in a nameless grave. 1 Before long the herald of the morning, whom the dying father had announced, made his appearance. Peter Kenny returned to Ireland from the south of Europe, and the people soon found that they had once more amongst them a great apostle. Aided by two of his brother Jesuits, he opened the mission again in St. Michan’s parish, and served the Mary’s-lane chapel. His preaching drew round the pulpit a crowd of delighted listeners who became ere long dis¬ ciples. His eloquence differed from that which had for some time prevailed among the orators of Ireland, whether sacred or forensic. It was neither sensational nor grandiloquent. It was calm, well reasoned, irresistible, persuasive. His words dropped right into the heart of the listeners, and they were remembered. Father Kenny’s coming to Ireland was always looked on by Dr. Murray as one of the greatest blessings heaven could have bestowed on him in the early days of his episcopacy. The archbishop and the Jesuit father were united by ties of the most intimate friendship, and together they worked, though sometimes in different paths, for the same objects— the advance of religion and the good of the flock. 2 1 The antiseptic quality of the soil prevents the decay of human remains in St. Michan’s vaults. Among the dead there interred are John and Henry Sheares, Oliver Bond, the Rev. William Jackson : all of ’98 celebrity; and it is still a matter of controversy whether this graveyard or that of old Glasnevin is the place where “cold and unhonoured ” lie the remains of Robert Emmet. The patriotic Dr. Lucas was buried here with public honours. It is the last resting-place of Archbishop Carpenter, the predecessor of Dr. Troy, in the See of Dublin. 2 Father Kenny’s Life has never been written, or at any rate has never been printed. Short notices ol his career are to be met with in books and newspapers; and persons still living can tell many interesting things about him. The following incident of his boyhood was told to us by a person whose father, a coach-builder by trade, had the account from Father Kenny himself. When quite a lad, he was bound as an apprentice to a coach-builder, and occupied in the factory all day. In the evening he attended one of Dr. Betagh’s schools. He was not unwilling to learn his lessons, but nothing attracted him so much as public speaking. The sermons he heard on Sundays he used to deliver after his own fashion to his fellow-apprentices on week days. One day as, mounted on a chair, he was preaching a sermon, the master entered the workshop and found him thus engaged with all the men around him. “ This will never do,” cried the master in a rage, “ idling the apprentices ! You’ll be sure to be at it again. Walk off, now ; and never show your face here again.” The men began to laugh; but Peter had to depart. He was ashamed to appear before Dr. Betagh, and for three weeks stayed away from school. He was missed. Dr. Betagh sent for him, and asked what had happened between him and his parents that caused him to remain away from the class. “ Nothing has happened,” said Peter, “ between me and my parents; but my master has turned me off;” and he then confessed that he had been trying to preach a sermon to the men. “ And what were you saying to them ?” asked the doctor. “ Get up on that chair and preach your sermon again.” The lad obeyed; and when Dr. Betagh had heard enough, he said: “Very well; that will do now. But take care you don’t stay away from school any more.” From that day forth Peter Kenny had a fast friend in Dr. Betagh. Monsignor Meagher in his “ Life of Archbishop Murray,” p. 91, has the following interesting passage : “ After preliminary studies, first at Carlow, and afterwards at Stony- HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. I 33 Meanwhile Mrs. O’Brien was not idly considering the course of public events, or waiting for the establishment of a new order to relieve the pressing wants of the destitute poor. Her work of predi¬ lection was the saving of the young from ignorance and danger ; and now that the community at Harold’s-cross had got safely sheltered under their roof a goodly number of orphan girls, she became all the more anxious to try and save some others from the snares of evil. She was supported in this undertaking by her sister Mrs. Sherlock, Mrs. Michael Sweetman, Mrs. Scully, Miss Dease, and other friends. A house was taken in Ash-street, near the Coombe, and a number of poor girls of good character and unprotected having been selected as the first inmates, the work of the Refuge began, under the patronage of Dr. Blake, afterwards Bishop of Dromore. Mrs. O’Brien was indefa¬ tigable in her care of the new institution ; and Mary Aikenhead, who often accompanied her to Ash-street, and helped in the work, entered heartily into every project and every detail connected with it. It was a settled matter that the Refuge should be given into the care of the Sisters of Charity as soon as the future community should be able to undertake its management. This gave an additional interest to the work; and the two friends had the pleasure of forecasting its future good fortune, while earnestly labouring to secure its present existence. All this time Dr. Murray was continually occupied about the hurst, he (Peter Kenny) repaired in company of his young associates to Sicily, and prose¬ cuted his college course with distinction in the convent of his order at Palermo. During his stay in that island, it was occupied by the friendly troops of Great Britain, who defended it for the king of Naples against the French, who had seized upon the continental posses¬ sions of that monarch, and obliged him to take refuge in his Sicilian capital. At the same time Pope Pius VII. was held by Buonaparte a captive at Rome. A bold attempt to liberate him was determined on, in which Father Kenny was selected to act an important part. The first intimation he received of the projected enterprise reached him in an order from his superiors, to be ready in an hour to sail in an English ship of war, which was to enter Civita Vecchia and receive the Pope, to whom Father Kenny was to act as interpreter, and accompany him in his voyage to Palermo. Of course he was but too proud to lend his aid to such a project. The undertaking, however, was suddenly abandoned.” This curious incident we may supplement with the following, which we have from private and reliable sources :—“ The frigate commanded by the then Captain (afterwards Admiral) Cockburn, lay off the Pontifical shore with Father Kenny, who remained on board while his companion, Padre Angiolino, went to Rome, saw Cardinal Pacca, and received from him the answer of Pius VII. expressive of his thanks to the British Government, which offered him an asylum in England; but at the same time stating his conviction that it was his duty under the existing circumstances not to abandon his flock, even though the loss of liberty or of life itself were to be the consequence. Captain Cockburn was charmed with both his Jesuit guests, as he afterwards repeatedly declared, bantering occasionally his brother officers by observing to them that he alone could boast of the honour of having received the orders of his Sovereign to hold himself and his ship at the orders of two Jesuits, and for the purpose of carrying off a Pope to England. It was said that it was the intention of the British Government to rent Burton Constable, in Holderness, for the residence of His Holiness while in England. The best account we have met with of Father Kenny is contained in a series of papers on the Jesuits in Ireland, contributed to the Limerick Reporter in 1868-9. 134 MARY AIKENHEAD : subject of the new foundation. That the work was to be begun, and before long, was a settled affair; but Mary could not help wondering how it was that the efficient superior, on whom so much would depend, had not yet appeared. At last one day, to her unspeakable amazement, she learned that it was she herself who was to head the undertaking. Naturally timid, extremely averse from putting herself forward in any way, and entertaining but a poor opinion of her own abilities, she at first could not believe that it had entered into anyone’s head to place her in such a position ; and when there could be no longer a doubt as to the intentions of Dr. Murray on this point, her courage failed and she was filled with consternation. She absolutely refused to lend her¬ self to such an arrangement, at least until she should have laid open, by a carefully prepared general confession, her whole soul to Dr. Murray. Possibly she had a strong hope that when the archbishop knew her better he would change his mind, or at any rate not insist on pressing such a grievous responsibility on her. This hope, if entertained, was destined to be disappointed. Dr. Murray calmed her fears, gave her much comfort, and assured her most solemnly that it was God’s will the foundation should be made, and that she was the instrument chosen by Providence for the work. Dr. Everard, now president of the College of Maynooth, who was deeply interested in the undertaking and urged its speedy commencement, likewise cheered and encouraged her. Finally, she gave an unreserved consent, and bound herself to make arrangements for leaving Cork the earliest moment she could do so without injustice to her family. She did not, however, cease to feel the trial of having to take the leadership, where she had hoped to follow a good guide. For a long time, indeed, it weighed heavily on her, and damped the natural cheerfulness of her disposition. The more she considered the gravity of the circumstances, the more uneasy did she become at the prospect of commencing such an undertaking without having previously been instructed in the spirit and trained to the duties of religious life. She therefore besought Dr. Murray to obtain for her the advantage of making a regular noviceship in an institute where the duties resembled, in some degree, those proposed to be carried out in the new foundation ; or, if this could not be done, she prayed that at least she might be thoroughly grounded in the theory and practice of religious life : the exterior occupation being a matter of secondary importance. The reasonableness of this request was fully allowed. After much considera¬ tion, and much earnest prayer, the convent of the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary, at Micklegate Bar, York, 1 was thought to come 1 “ The most ancient religious house founded, and always remaining in England, and long the only convent in the country, is the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary at York, which began in 1686.”—“ Troubles of our Catholic Forefathers.” First Series, p. 4. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. !35 nearer than any other to what was required, as the nuns made no vow of enclosure, and went out to visit the sick. An application was therefore made to Mrs. Coyney, the superior, from whom in due course Dr. Murray received a kind reply, not only acceding to his wishes, but promising a cordial welcome to Miss Aikenhead and the lady who should accompany her. The permission of the Right Rev. Dr. Wilson, Vicar-Apostolic of the Northern District, the ecclesiastical superior of the community was also obtained. Miss Catherine Cham¬ berlain of Leixlip, in the county of Dublin, was, according to the original arrangement, to accompany Mary Aikenhead to York, and go through the noviceship at the same time with her. But she became ill shortly before the date fixed for departure, and another lady, Miss Alicia Walsh was substituted in her place. Miss Walsh was about fourteen years older than her companion, having been born on the 25th June, 1773. Her father was a gentle¬ man of considerable property, and resided in the immediate vicinity of Naul, a village in the county of Dublin, situated on the borders of Meath in the midst of a remarkably picturesque country. Mr. Walsh was a man of high principle, and of a generous, hospitable disposition. His wife was niece to Mr. George Taaffe of Smarmore Castle. The Taaffes, in consequence of their fidelity to James II., were despoiled of their property in the Williamite wars ; but George Taaffe’s son, John, having married his cousin, Miss Taaffe of the county of Meath, a very rich heiress, purchased back Smarmore, the ancient residence of his ancestors. Mr. Walsh was also allied to the family of Caddell of Harbourstown, county of Meath. In the year 1798, Mr. Walsh, though he took no active part in the insurrectionary movement, suffered, nevertheless, like many other Catholics the destruction of his property, which was pillaged and burned by the Royalist soldiery. Mrs. Walsh had died a short time before these disasters, and her husband did not long survive them. At his death the family became dispersed, and its members were reduced to comparative obscurity. Alicia, the second daughter, was small in figure and handsome in face : her countenance was so expressive of amiability and intelligence that people found her charming even at first sight. She had a great taste for reading and indulged in it freely, so that being acquainted with works of standard excellence, as well as with the lighter literature of the day, her mind was richly stored and her conversation was most interesting. Her love of poetry and of the beautiful in nature, made her girlhood happy in the lovely glen of Naul, with its rocks and ruins, its winding rivulet and flashing cascades ; and her delight was to make her poetic meditations among the grass-grown graves of the churchyard, while listening to the wild music of an Aiolian harp which she had hung in the trees. In disposition she was warm and generous in the highest degree; her love of the poor was almost romantic in its 136 MARY AIKENHEAD : tenderness, and her patriotism was enthusiastic. During the rebellion of 1798, she went from prison to prison at much personal risk, to carry- messages from friends, or to console the inmates who were the objects of her deepest sympathy. Some of her nearest and dearest relatives suffered greatly, not only from the confiscation of their property and unjust oppression, but also from the barbarous bodily tortures which, at that period, were commonly inflicted at the will of a licentious soldiery. One of her friends, a young man of exemplary life, was stripped to the waist, tied to a cart, and dragged through the streets of Drogheda, his inhuman executioners flogging him all the way, until at last he fainted under their hands, and was consigned to a prison cell. The first intimation his mother received of the occurrence that had taken place was a demand for old linen to dress her son’s back, which was one hideous wound. In the family of a near neighbour at Naul, a circumstance occurred equally characteristic of the time. A young lady was engaged to be married to a gentleman, Avho, having been connected with the insur¬ gents in 1798, was obliged to fly from his home. He took refuge in the house of his intended brother-in-law, who had been forced to join a corps of Yeomanry. The fugitive’s track was discovered, the Yeo¬ manry were called out, and he, having again taken to flight, was overtaken at a village near Dublin, and hanged from a post in the street by the young man from whose house he had just escaped and who dared not shirk the duty. The poor rebel’s mother never learned the fate that had befallen her son. She was persuaded that he had gone abroad ; and up to her death she continued making shirts and knitting stockings, which were sent, as she supposed, in parcels to the refugee in a distant land. Events like these made so deep an impression on Alicia’s sensitive nature that she never could trust herself to speak of them; and if in the course of conversation any allusion was made to the horrors of that era, the speaker was immediately hushed. In her presence, at any rate, people were “afraid to speak of ninety-eight.” We cannot say when or how it was that Miss Walsh first heard of Dr. Murray’s project. All we know is that the idea of Sisters of Charity being established in Ireland excited her deepest interest, and that she offered herself to the archbishop to accompany Miss Aikenhead to York, go through the noviceship, and join the new congregation. All that remained now for Mary Aikenhead to do was the arrange¬ ment of family affairs in Cork. Her sisters Anne and Margaret had left the convent school. Though young in years they were gifted with good sense, and might be supposed able to take care of them¬ selves ; and as they were in the midst of a large family connexion, including very near relatives, Mary could have no scruple of conscience in leaving them in order to follow the voice that called her to new HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 137 duties in another sphere. But it was not in nature that the parting could be without a pang. Possibly she now for the first time realised how great was the sacrifice she made in leaving for ever those who were so dear to her, and who had hitherto been so dependent on her care. Nor could she pronounce without emotion a final farewell to the troop of friends who had surrounded her in the old home; to the poor whom she had loved and served ; to the scenes of peaceful beauty amidst which she had grown to womanhood—the sunny hills, the sheltering woods, the meadows skirted by the silver tide. The great unknown future lay before her; and, bidding adieu to the pleasant city by the Lee, she took the first step on the untravelled way, with a brave heart though with tearful eyes, on Trinity Sunday, the 24th of May, in the year 1812. END OF BOOK I. BOOK II. 1 00k II. CHAPTER I. NOVITIATE AT YORK—DR. MURRAY IN ROME—RESTORATION OF THE SOCIETY OF JESUS. J r jRCHBISHOP MURRAY was of too fatherly a nature to allow his dear friends and spiritual children to journey ™ alone into a strange country. He took them under his own special care, and went with them to York, where the travellers arrived on the 6th of June, 1812—the anniversary of the happy day on which Mary Aikenhead had been received into the Catholic Church. Having passed a few days in the ancient episcopal city, and given the postulants, in whom such hopes were centred, into the care of the good nuns at Micklegate Bar, he went to Ulverston to see his friend Dr. Everard, who, in consequence of ill health, had been obliged to discontinue for a while his duties at Maynooth. From Ulverston, Dr. Murray wrote the following pleasant and affectionate letter to his young friend :— “ Ulverston, 13 th June , 1812 . “ Ardently as I wish you to acquire an interior spirit, and a total disengagement from the world, you see, my dear Mary, that I am determined your solitude shall not remain quite undisturbed, nor your meditations uninterrupted. Perhaps, however, to glide gently into retirement would be preferable to an abrupt and rapid transition, and that occasional remem¬ brances of the world will, now that your views are fixed on more exalted scenes, only tend to impress you more deeply with the conviction of its insignificance. At all events, I can hardly think that you have yet had time to arrive at a holy state of total indifference for all whom you left behind you struggling in the world. I avail myself, therefore, of an interval of leisure to obtrude myself on your notice, and to tell you that I arrived here in perfect safety on Wednesday, after passing through some amusing scenes on the way. “On Monday, to be sure, I had some little difficulties to encounter. I was stuffed into a narrow carriage, with five huge natives of Yorkshire ; you may guess my situation was not quite a paradise. I had, however, 142 MARY AIKENHEAD : the comfort and edification of hearing all the excellences of good feeding and all the varieties of tasteful cookery discussed in the most elegant and classic language as we went along. One gentleman told us exultingly that he had, in company with another worthy compeer, eaten on one occasion twenty-three poached eggs, as much rashers as could be cut off a thirty pound ham, and two or three dishes of spinach ! But notwith¬ standing these advantages, I was rejoiced when 1 saw the smoke of Manchester. On the next day I was more at my ease; I had a roomy coach, no crowd, and more agreeable company. I did not, however, experience much Irish hospitality—for one lady, without ever considering the -wants of others, occasionally drew from her pocket a bottle (none of your small-sized ones either), which she most devoutly applied to her lips, and which, she said, contained rum and water, just made slender to render it agreeable, for that indeed nature required some support; but whether it was slender or otherwise we had no means of ascertaining further than the lady’s word could go for the purpose, for she never seemed to think of sending round the jorum. “ I was obliged to stop at Lancaster till a late hour the next day, in order to wait for the retiring of the tide, after which I proceeded to Ulverston, which I reached in the evening, and where, I need not tell you, I met with such a reception as the warmest friendship could suggest. I found Dr. Everard a good deal emaciated by illness, but now recovering gradually, though not, I think, in a sufficient degree to justify him in immediately resuming the government of Maynooth. I think it is better for him to remain quiet and nurse his constitution for a little while, after which, I trust, he will return to us with renewed vigour. He expects some advantage from the waters of Harrowgate, to which place he intends to go in a short time, in which case he will certainly pay you and Miss Walsh a visit. He desires me to assure you both of his most fervent wishes for your happiness, and for the success of the undertaking in which you are engaged, and which he has long had deeply at heart. I am getting a sketch drawn of his little chapel, which may possibly serve as a guide for the formation of ours. “ I am most anxious for news from Ireland, but hardly expect any until I return. I purpose leaving this before the end of next week. If you have heard anything from beyond the channel, let me know it by return of post, and possibly your letter may overtake me here. At all events, in about a week address to me to Ireland a detailed account of how you are going on, and of your present state of feeling. Disguise nothing. You know, my dear child, I am now more than ever interested for your happiness; a new link binds us together in more indissoluble friendship. Assure Miss Walsh of my perfect esteem, and convey to her my most earnest wishes for her temporal and eternal welfare. Say everything that is kind and respectful to Mrs. Coyney. Assure her again that there were particular circumstances which rendered it quite impossible to accede to her request on last Sunday. Give my best regards to the little Murrays, and my other acquaintances in your house, and believe me unalterably, “ Your sincere friend, “ D. M.” Mary Aikenhead’s mind was now turned with all its energy and all its faculties to the one subject—the study of the principles of the religious life and the practice of its duties. Every moment of her time was occupied in one way or another bearing on the special work in view. She copied spiritual papers, translated HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. T 43 books, and hoarded every document which seemed likely to aid her in her future station. Mother Mary Austin Chalmers, the mistress of novices, understood her fully, gave her every help, and won her lasting gratitude and affection. There could be but one opinion of the future foundress ; the pious community recognised in her a noble mind and a large generous heart; but during her stay in York she hardly recovered her natural elasticity, the sense of responsibility weighed on her spirits, and she was by no means so universal a favourite as her cheerful, light-hearted companion, Alicia Walsh. The aspirants so kindly received into the convent at York never assumed the dress of the institute, but wore the plain black gown, the cap and veil of the postulant. They took, however, with permission, the religious names which they bore till death, and were called, respectively, Sister Mary Augustine and Sister Mary Catherine: Mary Aikenhead choosing the name of the great Doctor of the Western Church, whose ardent character had a particular attraction for her, and whose writings were, even in those early days, the nourishment for soul and intellect in which she most delisfhted ; while Miss Walsh took the name of the Saint of Siena, to whom she had a special devotion, and whose charity for the sick and the afflicted, for poor prisoners, and sinners led astray, she always strove to imitate. 1 Dr. Everard paid his visit to the York Convent in due course, and he took that opportunity of introducing to Sister Augustine a French Jesuit named Fontaine, who had not returned to France after the suppression of the Society, and was experienced in the direction of religious communities. This religious had in his possession some manuscript documents collected by Father Strickland of the Society of Jesus, which were intended as regulations for a community to be established in London among the French refugees, under the title of “ Les Dames du Saint Esprit.” These he gave Sister Augustine to study. She read the papers carefully, but thought the rules fell far short of the York rule, her appreciation of which daily increased from finding the spiritual advantages its practice brought to her own soul. Moreover, she saw nothing in the rule she was following that could clash with the exterior duties of charity which she had in view for the new institute. After Dr. Murray’s return to Dublin, Sister Augustine wrote to him her opinion on the different matters he had recommended to her consi¬ deration. She did not conceal from him that she had special need of his support under the pressure of trial: for as time went on she felt more reluctant than ever to accept the heavy responsibility that was 1 Of the many St. Catherines, the Saint of Siena is considered the Irish St. Catherine. The prevalence of the name, with its variations, Kate, Kathleen, Kitty, &c., is remarkable in Ireland. After St. Brigid, the favourite female saints are St. Catherine and St. Teresa. 144 MARY AIKENHEAD : more than likely to devolve on her. Having freely expressed what she felt to her true father and friend, she received from him the fol¬ lowing reply:— “ Dublin , 26 th January, 1813. “ It gives me very particular pleasure to be enabled, before leaving town, to acknowledge my dear friend’s acceptable letter, which reached me three days ago at Maynooth. I share in all your anxieties, but my apprehensions are not as lively as yours. The work in which you are preparing to engage is the work of God, and He is able to make it prosper. It would certainly fail if it were to rest upon human resources. He delights to employ the feeblest instruments for the greatest purposes; that human wisdom may cease to glory, and that all may bow down before Him, as the sole author and bestower of every good. Distrust yourself, trust in Him ; and you cannot fail. He in whose hand the moistened clay could restore sight to the blind, can make his frail imperfect servant, if she be little in her own eyes, the powerful instrument of extending his glory. You say you expect no decided advice from me. In this you shall be disappointed. The time when it might have been prudent to withhold it is, I think, now past. My decided advice now is to fix your eyes and heart and confidence on God, and to proceed ; to rejoice in the hope that our dear Lord has prepared for you the incomparable blessing of associating you with Himself for the attainment of the salvation of his creatures ; to offer yourself to Him cheer¬ fully, and without reserve to receive whatever portion of His cross He chooses to impose on you in the execution of this divine work. He seems to have prepared the way for it by means beyond the reach of human foresight, and there does not seem to me to be any reasonable grounds for doubting that He wills the accomplishment of a work which He so evidently appears to have begun. “ I have not yet been able to procure a copy of your constitutions. Dr. Moylan’s papers were so tossed in their removal to the new house, that he has not yet been able to lay his hand on them; he will, however, continue the search, and hopes to find them. Lest he should not be able to procure them, I have applied for them elsewhere. Do not, however, be dis¬ couraged ; if they do not arrive as soon as we could wish, provisional rules, as much as possible in their spirit, shall, if necessary, be prepared. I do not despair of being able to open a communication with your Sisters in France, by means of Abb6 Le Grand of the Congregation of the Mission. Dr. Troy also has written to Rome to obtain the sanction of whatever authorities his Holiness has left there. “ The unexpected coldness which you say you experience from some branches of your family is, perhaps, wisely ordained by Divine Providence to wean you more perfectly from all that is in the world, and to enable you to give yourself with entire disengagement of heart to the work of God. In the latter verses of the ninth chapter of St. Luke you will find useful lessons on this subject. Fond and frequent intercourse with your worldly connections would be a great drawback on the perfection of your sacrifice; it would not indeed be compatible with the object you have in view. When I tell you that I am now reading the “ Life of St. Vincent de Paul,” you will not be surprised at my reminding you that your family in future are to be the poor of Jesus Christ. Whatever time can be spared from the duties which charity will claim for them, should be spent, if possible, in total seclusion from the world; in earnest, persevering endeavours to preserve uninterrupted that interior communication with heaven which will be necessary to sanctify your outward labours and to prevent the spirit of fervour from decaying and perishing. HER. LIFE, H2R WORK, AND HSR. FRIEND S. 145 “You seem to dread very much even the possible danger of being Superior. The appointment of a Superior is yet in the hands of God. I hope He will guide the choice. Allow me, however, to remark that there may be sometimes as much humility in accepting an office as in rejecting it. Wherever there is true humility there is no obstinate self-will. What¬ ever share of self-will you may still possess, must be left behind you in the world ; the moment you pass the threshold of religion you become the humble child of obedience. In this humble obedience you possess the certain means of accomplishing the will of God : without it you must certainly want the true spirit of religion. What I say to you I say to your dear companion and fellow-labourer, to whom I beg you will communicate the fervent wishes that I feel for her happiness. Have the goodness to inquire of her in my name, if she have met with any pecuniary disappoint¬ ment. I am grateful for Miss Heavy’s remembrance, and shall not forget her request; I hope she will repay me in a similar way. Say everything that is respectful for me to Rev. Mother and all her valued community. Their prayers will, I hope, draw down a blessing on our little work. Remember me also to the little nieces with whose improvement I am much gratified. I saw your dearest friend, Anna Maria, to-day, and Cecilia yester¬ day : they are both well. I had a letter from Dr. Everard a few days ago : his health is improving, but he does not yet speak of coming to Ireland. “ Whenever you find it convenient need I tell you to communicate with entire liberty your hopes and fears and anxieties to “Your sincere friend, “D. M. “ Since writing the within, I have been applied to by Mr. Corballis to solicit places in the Bar-school for two of his daughters, the elder about twelve years of age, the younger about eleven. I request you will have the goodness to transact the commission for me with Rev. Mother, and to inform me, as soon as convenient, of the success of our application. Mr. and Mrs. Corballis are extremely anxious to have the young ladies sent as soon as possible, and I must confess that I am interested for them. “ Anna Maria desires me to say that you need not puzzle yourself any more about the vestments, as they are to be home manufacture. The dread of being named Superior of the new congregation was not the only thought that disturbed Sister Mary Augustine during her noviceship. She was much troubled about her sisters, whom she had left, as she now feared, without sufficient protection considering their youth and inexperience, and was anxious about her brother, St. John. They were not, it appeared, managing money matters very well, and she began to fear they might find themselves in difficulties before long. This source of anxiety was also laid open to the wise counsellor and true friend in a letter written after the receipt of the communica¬ tion given above. The following is Dr. Murray’s kind and sympathetic answer :— “ Dublin , 10th April, 1813. “ Dear Mary, “ Though I am just going out of town, I must first snatch a moment to repeat my assurances (though such a repetition can be hardly necessary) of the large share I must ever have in all your anxieties. I think the present source of uneasiness has made a greater impression on your feelings than it should have done. With regard to the present deficiency in 146 MARY AIKENHEAD : money matters you need not make yourself at all unhappy as far as regards yourself: with regard to others, too, it may serve as a lesson of future economy. I would not, however, be understood to lean too heavily on the poor girls. This year has been most unfavourable for housekeeping, and I am not at all surprised at the result, when I reflect on the long family they have had to support. I always thought it imprudent to keep up that estab¬ lishment, and I believe if you were with them yourself, considering the advance which has taken place in the price of many necessary articles of consumption, you would find it expedient to alter your plan. Considering every circumstance, it would not, in my opinion, be advisable that they should attempt longer to keep up that expensive establishment. They might go to some respectable boarding-house either in Cork or Dublin, and whatever surplus should remain of their little income, might be applied, if they thought proper, to assist the other branches of the family. “ It would be rather hard that they should expect that you would sacrifice your future prospects in order to go and take care of them, at a time when they ought to be able to take care of themselves. I am far, however, from reprimanding the just anxiety you feel for their happiness, and I take this opportunity of informing you that what I said on a late occasion regarding your family, was in reality not intended for you, but was levelled against the excessive attachment which we thought was discoverable in your com¬ panion for some of her worldly connections. And if after all you should, on reflection, think your presence necessary at home, I beg, my dear child, that you will not by any step you have already taken, consider yourself pledged to proceed in your present undertaking. I do not by any means think that the difficulties which you mention ought to make you alter your determination if you be otherwise anxious to proceed : they were foreseen in a great measure from the beginning, and it is possible that even were you at home they might not be wholly avoided. “ I will leave room for our friend to add a line, and will only request you to present my best respects to reverend mother and all your valued com¬ munity. You will observe that I have been obliged to write this in haste. “ Yours most sincerely, “ D. Murray. “ P. S.—It would be a comfort to me to hear from you soon.” The last available page of the large, gilt-edged sheet on which the above was written, Mrs. O’Brien filled up with entreaties to her dearest Mary not to injure her health by her uneasiness with regard to what was going on in Cork ; suggesting that Anne and Margaret might come to live in Dublin, and reminding her that their staying in Cork would be of little use to St. John. Poor Sister Catherine, as we gather from the above letter, could not, any more than Sister Augustine, banish from her thoughts the friends she had left behind in Ireland, or the relatives who no doubt greatly missed the companionship of one so genial and so reliable. However she was free from one of the troubles her companion had to bear : her mind did not weary itself with forecasting the weight she might one day have to endure as the Superior of a house or a congre¬ gation. Possibly her greater experience of life stood her in good stead, for apprehension effects the young more vividly than the mature in years. And for the rest she was not threatened with an immediate call to head a difficult and untried enterprise. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. H7 When the year’s novitiate drew nearly to a close the sisters became extremely anxious to have their time of preparation prolonged, and besought Dr. Murray to grant them another twelve months’probation. The archbishop agreed to this ; and in the course of the second year he made a journey to York, bringing with him a young lady, a Miss Fitz¬ gerald of the county of Louth, who intended to join the future Sisters of Charity, but who, during her first retreat, changed her mind and decided on remaining at York. During this visit the several points suggested by the study of the two rules were fully discussed. Dr. Murray entirely coincided in the opinion the sisters had formed of the rule followed at York, which had been approved by Pope Clement XI., and called “The Rule of the English Virgins.” At his request Mrs. Coyney, the Superior, kindly allowed Sister Mary Augustine to make a copy of the rule, and also of the constitutions. The sisters continued their earnest studies, and their no less assiduous practice of the religious life, on the understanding that when the second year was ended they should return to Ireland. As that term drew near, Sister Mary Augustine felt more than ever convinced that she was not ready for the work before her. It would have seemed use¬ less to entreat for a longer extension of time ; but, like St. Scholastica, she turned to God in silent prayer, and obtained her desire. In the spring of 1814, the extraordinary events which changed the face of Europe produced an effect even in Ireland, and rendered it impossible for Dr. Murray to undertake just then the projected foundation. The question of the Veto was now more urgent than ever, and Dr. Murray was summoned to Rome to co-operate with Bishop Milner in the endeavour to obtain a satisfactory settlement of the difficulty. Mrs. Coyney offered to keep the Irish sisters until Dr. Murray should return, and it was hoped that when the Continent would be open, access might be had to the General of the Lazarites with a view of obtaining from him the constitutions of the Sisters of Charity founded by St. Vincent de Paul. Before setting out on his long journey Dr. Murray wrote the following letter to Mrs. Coyney:— “ Dublin , 13 th April, 1814. “ Dear Rev. Mother, “ Though I have reason to hope, from the present posture of affairs in France, that I shall soon be in the possession of a copy of the constitutions of the Sisters of Charity, I think it right in the meantime to transmit to you the preceding outline of their plan of life. Dr. Milner had the kindness to transcribe it with his own hand from Collet’s “ Life of St. Vincent de Paul,” and our dear friend, as you will perceive by the hand¬ writing, has saved me the trouble of copying it. Even general as it is we must, under our present circumstances, deem it an acquisition ; it will be a source of comfort and instruction to our pious sisters; and I trust that, with the addition of such of your rules and customs as you and Mother Austin would have the kindness to point out, it will be abundantly sufficient for the commencement of their proposed work. It would be most desirable that 148 MARY AIKENHEAD : they should have an exact plan of life, which should govern them from the first hour of their arrival in this country; and I am quite certain that any that would be formed under your inspection, would meet with the approba¬ tion of Dr. Troy and myself. The time being now near for the commence¬ ment of the work, it is natural that my anxiety should increase regarding the immediate preparations which shall be necessary for it, one of which is of course a regular plan of life. As, however, I am not immediately acquainted with the rules and customs under which the sisters live, and under which, as far as it is compatible with their object, they should endeavour to live always, I must deem myself very incompetent to form such a plan. I am consoled, however, by reflecting that they are still near the sources whence they have derived so many blessings, and that the charity in which they have shared so largely, instead of being exhausted, seems to increase in proportion to the demands which are made on it. “Fanny Ball has sanguine expectations that she will be able to accomplish her purpose. She means to write a letter to you offering herself as a candidate for your holy Institute, and hopes, though with great diffi¬ culty, to obtain her mother’s consent, unfettered by any restriction to set it off. I cannot give up the hope of seeing a house of your holy Institute established in this country, and I trust that this little treasure which we are sending you, may give us some colour of claim to that blessing, and eventually facilitate the means of accomplishing it. With ardent wishes for the happiness individually and collectively of your valued community, I remain, dear Rev. Mother, “ Your obt. servant in Christ, “D. Murray.” Miss Fanny Ball eventually succeeded in obtaining her desire. She entered the York Convent, and thus took the first step in a remarkable and eminent career which led on to the establishment in Ireland of the Institute generally known as the Loretto Order. Dr. Murray, having governed Maynooth for some time—Father Kenny being vice-president—resigned that office some months before he left for Rome, and was succeeded by Dr. Crotty, afterwards Bishop of Cloyne and Ross. His Holiness Pope Pius VII. had re-entered Rome, after his long captivity, on the 24th of May ; and about a month later Dr. Murray arrived to find his friend and brother-delegate, Bishop Milner, already established at his favourite quarters, the Convent of St. John and St. Paul on the Cselian Hill. The prelates were well received in Rome, and had many audiences of His Holiness. Hopes were entertained that the Veto question would be ere long set at rest for ever. But fears had their day as well as hopes, and after a stay of many months in the Eternal City, the delegates had not succeeded in accomplishing anything that could be considered highly satisfactory. Dr. Murray, however, had one great joy while in Rome. The Bull for the restoration of the Society of Jesus was published on the 7th of August, 1814; and at a splendid function in the Gesu—the Pope celebrating Mass at the altar of St. Ignatius in the presence of the Sacred College and of the Jesuit Fathers assembled from many lands HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 149 —the formal re-establishment of the society was proclaimed. Dr. Murray and Dr. Milner were the only strangers in the Gesu on that memorable occasion. The Irish Jesuits present were Fathers Esmond, St. Leger, Aylmer, Butler, and Farley : all of whom had, like Father Kenny, made their novitiate at Palermo in preparation for their life¬ long labours in Ireland. Father Kenny, whose connexion with May- nooth had ceased on Dr. Murray’s retirement from the presidental chair, was at this time anxiously engaged at home in establishing the Clongowes Wood College. Dr. Murray built, as already said, many a hope for the future of the diocese on Father Kenny and the labours of the Society to which that father belonged ; and this festival at the Gesu was a memorable day in his calendar as well as in the history of the Church. All this time he was far from forgetting his friends at York or the future foundation. He had many opportunities of consulting with his friend Dr. Milner on the subject; and he obtained from the authorities at Rome certain powers and privileges calculated to smooth the difficulties which were certain to attend the establishment of the pro¬ jected institute. In the month of December, being in Paris on his way home, he had an interview with the General of the Lazarites, and wrote the following account of it to Sister Mary Augustine and Sister Mary Catherine:— “ Paris. Hotel cP Orleans. “ Rue des Petits Augustins. No. 17. “ 31J/ Pec., 1814. “ Dear Daughters in Jesus Christ, “ My continued silence regarding your affairs, particularly for the last few weeks, must have appeared strange and unaccountable, and I fear that your charity has had a difficult task to save it from the imputation of unkindness. But how unfavourable soever appearances may stand against me, I can assure you with great truth that neither your own individual happiness, nor the great work for which you are preparing, was ever long absent from my thoughts; nor ever thought of without a lively interest. But I really could not bring myself to trifle with your feelings by mentioning a subject on which so large a portion of your happiness hinges, until I could state, with some degree of certainty, the means on which I could count for the due accomplishment of our object. On my arrival here I met with much unexpected delay. The Superior-General of St. Lazar was absent, and I could find no one who could supply his place. To the sisters, who by means of the late government were withdrawn from his jurisdiction, I did not wish to apply, as the Decree which I had obtained at Rome for our little establishment connects us with the Congregation in its original state, such as it was founded by St. Vincent de Paul. I therefore thought it better to wait for his return, particularly as I had not a prospect of being able to leave Paris immediately. I was at that time strongly inclined to your coming to Paris, that you might see how the work is conducted here. On conversing with the Superior-General, I found that that plan would be objectionable, or perhaps impracticable, and that our only plan was to take over French Sisters to form the establishment. On proposing to him a second time the practicability of your coming here, he said he would con- MARY AIKENHEAD: ISO suit with the sisters whom he designed for our foundation, and they had not yet arrived in town. After all due deliberation it was thought advisable to commence the establishment immediately in Ireland, for which purpose he offered three sisters, some of whom he had designed for confidential situations here. He has been really most kind, and shown himself most anxious to promote our object, about which he has taken a great deal of trouble. He has just handed me the accompanying sketch of an agreement which he proposes being entered into. I hasten to transmit it to you, and until I receive your answer, I will neither approve nor reject it. You per¬ ceive he seems to expect that the establishment will soon be multiplied and spread over the country. I objected particularly to the clause which required three French sisters to be always in Ireland : but this he said was by all means necessary for the preservation of unity throughout the whole family, for corresponding with the Superior-General, and guaranteeing the continu¬ ance of the discipline and spirit of St. Vincent in the Order. The same rule obtains in Russia, Poland, and Spain. Of Poland I am certain, but not so much so of the others. “ I now require of you as a matter of duty to give me your opinions on what is best to be done. Recommend it to God, communicate with each other and with the Rev. Mother, and anyone else you please, and then give me your sentiments either separately or together, as speedily as possible. If we agree that the machinery here proposed would be too cumbrous, it would be easy to apply to Rome to place the establishment (as some of them here are) under the entire jurisdiction of the bishop. If the rule, such as St. Vincent established it, be preferable, are we to accept these terms ? or are we to ask for others ? If these be accepted I will take the sisters with me and make York my way home. “A thousand remembrances and good wishes to all our dear friends, whose prayers I solicit. “D Murray.” On receiving the document referred to in the above letter and carefully studying its import, Sister Mary Augustine was greatly perplexed Some of the conditions proposed would, she perceived, be difficult of fulfilment, while others she believed to be quite imprac¬ ticable, considering the situation Ireland was placed in at that time. With regard to herself personally she felt a disappointment at finding that the happiness she had looked forward to of an entire and irrevoc¬ able consecration of herself to God, was after all to end in yearly vows; and she dreaded that in consequence of this arrangement the future would still be uncertain and insecure. She went at once to Mother Mary Austin Chalmers, the Mistress of Novices, on whose judgment she could thoroughly rely, and whose deep interest in the new foundation she was well aware of, and poured forth into the crood Mother’s bosom all her anxieties. Mother Austin and the o superior saw the matter entirely as she did, but for her greater trial and merit they did not give her the comfort of knowing that they coin¬ cided in her views. They could not help admiring the ardent piety and sound judgment of their novice, but they contented themselves with merely exhorting her to continue to implore the guidance of heaven, saying that the undertaking was so manifestly the work of God, that HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 151 she might surely rely on being led by Him, though for a time she might not quite see her way. Sister Mary Augustine’s great resource at all times was prayer, and now she begged that the community would join in an earnest appeal to heaven by the recital of a little prayer to which she had much devotion. Mother Austin assured her that any prayer she chose should, at whatsoever cost, be said during nine days. Sister Mary Augustine asked for the three last petitions of the Litany of Divine Providence ; her good mistress replied that the entire litany should be said ; and orders were given for its daily recital until the Irish sisters should leave York. The more earnestly she besought heaven for guidance the more clearly did Sister Mary Augustine perceive that the rules of the York institute were preferable to those which had lately been proposed to her consideration. She had little difficulty in expressing her opinion and her feelings on the subject to Dr. Murray, for she understood from the tone of his letter that he was not prepossessed in favour of the projet d'accord. Sister Mary Catherine’s views were identical with hers, and a joint letter forwarded to Paris, drew from Dr. Murray the following reply :— “ Sisters Mary Austin and Mary Catherine, “Dear Daughters in Jesus Christ, “Your most valued letter of the 7th ult. reached me in due course. The sentiments which it contains are those which I expected from you. The Project d'accord which I sent you had not my approbation: I merely presented it because I thought it due to your feelings to make you acquainted with the conditions which were proposed. In rejecting them you have entirely coincided with my opinion. Anxious as I am that this most valuable establishment should be formed amongst us, I could hardly consent to conditions which would most seriously embarrass its operation, and that too without any adequate advantage to compensate for the unavoid¬ able inconveniences which would thence arise. I will send you by the first opportunity the constitutions of the Sisters of Charity. I would wish most earnestly that you should spend a few months in one of the houses of the Sisters of Charity in Paris. This, however, I fear is not at this moment possible. In a short time I hope to have a final answer on this head. “ In the meantime, if dear Rev. Mother, whose advice I most earnestly desire you to solicit, should deem it advisable to commence the good work which we have in view, and if on mature deliberation we should agree that foreign aid is not necessary for the formation of the subjects who are to be engaged in it, I must inform you that we have from the See of Rome all the requisite powers for commencing the establishment. The time which you have passed at York is approved of as a novitiate for our intended institution. The period of five years’ probation required by our constitutions is limited to two years, until we shall have five professed sisters, and the Archbishop of Dublin is authorised to receive your vows. It is true that in the Decree there is a clause which says that this is to be ‘ without prejudice to the rights in any case belonging to the Priests of the Congre¬ gation of the Mission but there will be no difficulty whatever in having the clause expunged on the first application to Rome, if it be deemed expedient that we should form a society similar to that established by St. 152 MARY AIKENHEAD: Vincent, but not dependent on it. In the meantime, I have the authority of the Superior-General of the Congregation of the Mission for saying that such a society though not a part of the family of St. Vincent, should be united with it by the closest ties of charity, and should partake as much as possible of all the spiritual advantages of this holy communion. “You .know how much I prize the opinion of your dear and most estimable Rev. Mother as well as that of dear Mother Austin. Do, then, most humbly and earnestly solicit their advice on this most trying emergency. I will communicate the result to Dr. Everard, whom I hope shortly to meet in Dublin, and to such others as I may deem it prudent, and I trust that the spirit of God will guide our ultimate decision. “ I did hope to be able to pass through York, but I find that there will be confirmation in my own chapel on next Monday, and of course I must hasten to be present on the occasion. In the unavoidable hurry of this moment I can only request you to say everything that you think I would wish to Rev. Mother and my other friends in York, and recommend myself earnestly to your prayers and theirs. “ I remain, dear daughters in J. C., “ Your faithful friend and servant, “ D. Murray. “ London , 6 th February .” The idea of making a foundation according to the projet d'accord with the Sisters of St. Vincent de Paul was entirely abandoned, and all agreed that the work should be begun with the rule the sisters already followed, leaving other points to future arrangement. During the short time that now remained to them in York, the sisters assiduously continued the studies and practices of religious life; and Sister Mary Augustine transcribed all that she considered might be of help in preparing her for the important work that was before her. CHAPTER II. RETURN TO IRELAND—FIRST CONVENT OF THE SISTERS OF CHARITY. ^]R. MURRAY, on his return home in February, 1815, lost no time in making preparations for the reception of the sisters, on whose practical sense and ardent charity he based his cherished hopes for the comfort, the succour, and the enlightenment of the helpless poor of the flock. The house he destined for the convent was situated in William-street, an unimportant locality immediately adjoining Summer Hill, on the north side of the city, and had been built by the Trinitarian Confra¬ ternity for an orphanage. Mr. Christopher Elliot, the president of the society, offered to give up the establishment to the Sisters of Charity —in consideration of their taking charge of the orphans. Dr. Murray enlarged the house and built a pretty little chapel at a cost of about HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. ! 53 £2,000, the greater part of which sum was contributed by Miss Matilda Denis, a friend and fellow-worker of Mrs. O'Brien, and vividly interested in the success of the new foundation. Early .in the month of August the Irish sisters in York made the spiritual exercises in preparation for their return to their native land. Dr. Murray was resolved to go himself to England and to bring home with joy those dear daughters whom he had led forth in high hope more than three years and three months before. Leaving Dublin on the 13th August, he arrived in York on the 18th o' the same month ; and, the sisters being quite ready to start on the homeward journey, the travellers bade adieu that very day to their kind friends the good nuns of the Institute of the Blessed Virgin. On the 22nd of August they sailed into the bay of Dublin with a favourable wind, and stepped on shore exultingly ; for though the world was still before them with all its difficulties and all its uncertain issues, they felt that the work for which they had so longed and prayed was now virtually begun. But the cross awaited them at the entrance of the new path. On the very day after their arrival a great meeting of the Catholic prelates took place in Dublin : every bishop in Ireland, with one exception, being present. Dr. Murray gave the assembled dignitaries an account of his late mission, and conveyed to them the feelings of the authorities at Rome on the momentous question of the Veto. It was all too evident that the Papal court, being now under greater obligations than ever to the British Government, was disposed to make some concession to the wishes of the ministry : that in fact Pius VII., who owed the restoration of his dominions mainly to England, might be induced to grant a Veto to the king. The bishops unanimously pronounced the veto inadmissible. A remonstrance was voted to his Holiness, and an address to the Prince Regent; and Dr. Murray was requested to return at once to Rome and lay before the Sovereign Pontiff in express terms the sentiments of the Irish Church and people regarding a question which so vitally concerned their independence and their peace. Dr. Murray, who never shirked a duty, accepted the commission, grieved though he was to leave at this juncture the little family he had but just brought to their new home. With characteristic energy and decision he desired them to prepare at once, by a retreat of three days, for the first emission of their vows, so that there might be no feeling of uncertainty, no perturbation of mind on so momentous a point during his absence ; and that they might work with a conscious¬ ness of security, having plighted their faith to their heavenly spouse. Accordingly they were professed on the istof September, making their vows for one year, before the expiration of which time it was hoped that matters would be arranged on a more solid footing. Nor did he leave them without a wise and kindly guardian. He placed them 12 r 54 MARY AIKENHEAD : under the special care of Father Kenny. And then having appointed Father William Dinan of the Society of Jesus their confessor, he blessed the little chapel and named the Rev. Matthias Kelly their chaplain. On the day the Sisters of Charity made their vows Dr. Murray nominated Sister Mary Augustine Aikenhead Superior- General, and Sister Mary Catherine Walsh Mistress of Novices. On the 3rd of September he received the first postulant. Miss Catherine Lynch of Drogheda, and on the 7th he took his departure for Rome. Next day Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament was given in the convent chapel and the Most Holy deposited in the tabernacle. This journey of Dr. Murray to Rome, though a great trial at the time, was productive of good in many ways to the infant community. From Paris he wrote to the young Rev. Mother :— “Paris, z\th Sept., 1815. “My dear Child, “ I take up the pen merely to remind you that no distance can diminish the interest I feel for our little establishment. I have just come from visiting one of the houses served by Hospitaliers de St. Thomas de Villeneuve. It contains about 500 sick children between twelve and fifteen years of age. I have visited the Superieure-Generale, and obtained from her a copy of their constitutions, which I think admirable. The rule is that of St. Augustine. It does not appear either from those constitutions or from the conversation of the Superieure-Generale that they have received any other approbation than that of the bishops in whose diocese the houses of the institute are situated. The vows are such as you have already heard. The religious elect a Superieure-Generale for the superintendence of the discipline, &c., of the different houses in the manner stated in the paper which she gave me.The different houses are under the jurisdiction of the Ordinary. I should not be sorry if you were to live under your present rule instead of that of St. Austin, and to adopt very nearly the constitutions of the Ladies of St. Thomas. But then what should we call you ? I feel that there is some weight in what you say concerning the Rule of St. Austin. “ It would give me pleasure that you should write me your thoughts fully on the subject. Tell me how is dear Mother Catherine, and everything else you can about your little family. Has Anna Maria returned ? How and where is she ? I-am just preparing to set off to-morrow morning for Rome. I do not expect to reach my destination in less than a month, as I do not mean to distress myself. I am perfectly happy in my company, and better in my health than I have been for a considerable time. Address as below. Matilda, to whom I desire my regards, will take charge.of your letter. It must be post-paid, otherwise it would not be forwarded. May every blessing descend upon you and our little establishment. “Write soon, lest your letter should not overtake me. “ Yours in Jesus Christ, “ D. Murray.” When sending the constitutions of the Ladies of St. Thomas to the Rev. Mother, Dr. Murray desired her to study them attentively ; and also to make herself acquainted with those of the Ursulines, whose Institute requires them to teach the poor as well as the rich, and HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. ^55 those of the Visitation Nuns, who were originally founded to visit and attend the sick. All these follow the rule of St. Augustine, though their constitutions differ. Father Kenny was consulted on the matter, and after giving much consideration to the subject, agreed with the Rev. Mother that the York rule was the most desirable. This opinion was communicated without delay to Dr. Murray, who, previous to receiving the intelligence, had taken the first step towards consoli¬ dating the enterprise, by soliciting for the proposed Institute the approbation of the Holy See. There was great joy in the little convent when the following letter from Dr. Murray to “Mrs. Aiken- head, North William-street” arrived, bearing the post-mark Roma :— “Rome, 6 th Dec., 1815. “At length, my dear Child, I am enabled to write to you something decisive on a matter which has been to you, most justly for some time past, as it has been also to me, a subject of deep solicitude. When I received your most welcome lines of the 6th October, I was already taking steps to obtain the sanction of the Holy See for our little dear establishment of Summer Hill, very nearly in the manner which I find, by your letter, that you and Mr. Kenny approved of. I then proceeded with more courage. I have differed, however, a little from what you recommended. I recollect that you and Mother Catherine, as well as Mr. Kenny, seemed to approve highly of the Rules of York, which, as well as I remember (for I have sought in vain for a copy of them here) contained nothing but the general principles of a religious life. I recollected also that the constitutions of York have the sanction only of the Ordinary. It occurred to me, therefore, that the simplest and easiest way of proceeding would be to obtain for the Arch¬ bishop of Dublin a power from the Holy See to erect a congregation of Sisters of Charity, to live under his jurisdiction according to the Rules of the Convent of York, approved by Clement XI., with the addition of a fourth vow , binding the sisters to the peculiar duties of their state. This I have done. The sisters of the new congregation are to live under the Rules of the Convent of York, as far as those Rules are compatible with the fourth vow of devoting their lives to the service of the poor. The vows, you observe, are perpetual, and the fourth vow is conceived in general terms in the manner that we all agreed upon as the best to render the congregation extensively useful. The name of the congregation is not finally determined on ; but I should be very anxious that it should be under the immediate invocation of the Blessed Virgin, be the particular term what it may. The constitutions may be extracted from those of St. Thomas of Villa Nova, with such altera¬ tions as we may deem expedient, after my return, and for these I deem the sanction of the Ordinary to be quite sufficient for us, as it is in York. “ Please to communicate this to our good friend in Clongowes Wood, and tell him he is not to imagine we have yet done with him. I have also obtained for you the privilege of celebrating in your chapel the Feast of the Sacred Heart, with its proper Mass on the usual day. I take with me a copy of the Mass to be inserted in your missal. It is your own fault that you have not asked for more. It gives me great pleasure to learn that your little flock has grown into something like a community. I hope, however, my dear Child, that as your number shall increase, your discipline shall be, if possible, more exact. It gives me great consolation that you and Mother Catherine are so deeply impressed with the importance of the circumstances in which you are placed. Begin with the true religious spirit; infuse it, as much as possible, into those who in some measure place their lot in your MARY AIKENHEAD : 156 hands ; teach them a love of discipline, the great safeguard of piety, and the powerful instrument for advancing them to the perfection of their state, and you will have the comfort of seeing your little community thriving under the blessing of Providence, and in sure progress towards the fulfilment of the divine object which you have in view. You know how much depends upon the manner in which the good work is begun ; and I beg of you to have constantly before your eyes, not merely the responsibility which you incur with respect to the individuals who entrust themselves to your guidance, but also the much higher responsibility which you owe to God for the success of an establishment in which his honour is so much con¬ cerned. It will not, however, escape you that the feebler the instruments to be employed on such an occasion, the more God will be delighted to render them efficacious, that human wisdom may be humbled, and that all may be taught to exclaim : ‘ To the Immortal and Invisible King of Ages, the only God, be honour and glory for ever and ever.’ Give yourselves up into his hands, the willing but humble instruments of his goodness ; and poor and miserable and powerless as you are, He will be delighted to employ you for purposes worthy of Himself. “.... I beg you will communicate my most cordial regards to Mother Catherine and every member of your little community, and assure them that they have a constant place in my thoughts at the altar. Remember me also to any other of my friends who may fall in your way, especially those about whom you know I am particularly interested. About Christmas I hope once more to face towards home. My health has never been better ; Dr. Murphy and Mr. Blake are also well. “ May every blessing attend you; and believe me most sincerely your servant in Christ, “ D. Murray.” The mother of the little community now felt assured that all her hopes were about to be realised, and that a perfectly religious spirit would be infused into the rising congregation by its saintly founder. The Rescript alluded to in the above letter, and dated the 30th of November, 1815, reached the archbishop, Dr. Troy, on the 6th of January, 1816. The following is a translation of the documents in question :— Petition of the Most Rev. Doctor Troy, for obtaining from the Holy See the faculty of instituting in Dublin the Pious Congregation of the Sisters of Charity. “ Most Holy Father, “John Thomas Troy, Archbishop of Dublin, the most humble petitioner of your Holiness, ardently desiring to obtain for the sick members of the flock committed to his charge, the same offices of charity which the Daughters of Charity, instituted by St. Vincent de Paul, afford to the sick in France, presumes to lay with profound reverence before your Holiness his anxious solicitude, that a congregation of ladies who would be devoted to similar works of piety should be established in Dublin. As, however, ladies living according to the rules prescribed by the said St. Vincent de Paul, should be subject not only to the Mother-General of the Sisters of Charity, but also to the Superior-General of the Missionary priests who resides always in France, an arrangement which we could not adopt without the greatest inconvenience, on account of the difference of language, the distance of the places of residence, and other grave impediments, the said HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 157 archbishop, therefore, supplicates your Holiness to vouchsafe graciously to impart to him the faculty of erecting and instituting in the City of Dublin aforesaid, a pious congregation of ladies immediately subject to the juris¬ diction of the Archbishop of Dublin for the time being, according to the Rules of the nuns of York, whose Rules were confirmed by the predecessor of your Holiness, Pope Clement XI., in his constitution issued on the 13th July, 1703, which begins, ‘ Inscrutabile Divines Providentim ’—a fourth vow however, being added of devoting themselves perpetually to the service of the poor.” [The Answer .] From a?i Audience held on the 30 th day of November, 1815. “ The above petition having been inspected, and the reasons therein adduced having been considered, our Most Holy Father Pius VII., by Divine Providence Pope, on reference thereto being made by me, the undersigned Prefect of the Congregation de Propaganda Fide, has agreeably to the petition of the aforesaid Archbishop, graciously imparted to him the faculty of erecting and instituting in the City of Dublin a Pious Congregation or Conservatory of Ladies under the immediate jurisdiction of the Archbishop of Dublin for the time being, according to the Rules of the English Virgins approved by His Holiness Clement XI. of holy memory, in his Constitution, dated 13th July, 1703, which begins Inscrutabile. He granted, moreover, to the said Archbishop the faculty of adding to the other vows to be taken by the Virgins of the Congregation or Conservatory to be thus erected a fourth vow, to devote themselves perpetually to the service of the poor ; all things, however, which are prescribed by the said rules, and are compatible with the superadded fourth vow to continue in force; for which let the conscience of the Archbishop remain charged. “ Given at the Palace of the Sacred Congregation de Propaganda Fide, on the day and year above written. “ Gratis, without any payment whatsoever on any title. “ L. Cardl. Litta, Prefect During Dr. Murray’s absence the little community in William- street, increased by four or five new members, were busily engaged in putting their house in order ; attending to the orphans, of whom four¬ teen were lodged in the establishment; and teaching in the poor school, to which the children of the neighbourhood now resorted in great numbers. A constant correspondence was kept up with Mother Austin Chalmers of York, that good friend being applied to in minor difficulties, and giving every help in her power with undiminished zeal and kindness. The archbishop, Dr. Troy, showed a truly paternal interest in the new congregation. On the 27th of December, in the little convent chapel, his Grace ordained two priests, the Rev. John Cantwell (afterwards Bishop of Meath) and the Rev. Patrick Smith. In the month of March, 1816, Dr. Murray returned from Rome, and brought with him for the new convent a brief of affiliation to the Confraternity of the Sacred Heart, with permission for the enrolling of members, and the yearly celebration of the proper Mass. On the 20th of June, the Feast of the Sacred Heart, a solemn high Mass was celebrated in the chapel by Dr. Murray, who explained on the occasion 158 MARY AIKENHEAD : the nature of the devotion thus, for the first time, introduced into Ireland, taking the text of his homily from the Gospel of St. John, chap. xv. 9-16. So occupied was Dr. Murray with the affairs of the Irish Church that he could not for some months after his return carry out what the Holy See had empowered him to do in regard to the founding of the Congregation of the Sisters of Charity. However he wrote to Father Kenny to consult about the desirability of adopting the York Rule, and to ask his opinion as to which of the feasts of the Blessed Virgin Mary (under whose patronage he purposed placing the congregation) he would recommend for adoption as the special feast of the institute. Father Kenny'gladly complied with the request of his ever dear and esteemed friend ; carefully studied the York Rule, a copy of which had been sent to him for perusal; gave his attention to the ques¬ tion of special patronage ; and in due course returned the following answer:— “ Clongowes V/ood, 1 8 th July, 1816. “ My Lord, “ Mr. P. Farrell’s return to Dublin affords me the opportunity of returning with many thanks the Memoires which you were so good as to lend me. The work was so interesting that I took the liberty of allowing many others in the house to peruse it, which the soiled blue cover will attest, I hope without exciting your Grace’s disapprobation. “I have done little, but have thought a good deal on the subject which your Grace was pleased to submit to my consideration. It seems to me that ihe Rule ought to be immediately proposed to the observance of the community as the one given them by the Holy See. It is clear that the last clause in the last paragraph of the Rescript, ‘ firmis tamen omnibus in enuntiatis Regulis praescriptis et cum quarto adjecto voto compatibilibus,’ prevents any alteration in the York Rules, with I believe the single exception of the first rule, where the last line must be omitted, and some¬ thing like the following substituted after the words and salvation of our neighbour ‘ by consecrating our lives to the service of our indigent fellow- creatures, and more particularly to that of the sick-poor whom we are to consider as the grand object recommended to our charity by the Lord Jesus our heavenly spouse and the true Samaritan. These we are to assist under the direction of Obedience, with that tenderness, generosity, and constancy which our blessed Lord Himself proposed for our imitation in the Avords of the Gospel so strongly addressed to all Christians, but which Ave should consider as peculiarly directed to each of us: Go and do thou in like manner.’ {Luke, x. 37.) “ With some such declaration of the specific object of the institute, the Rule is perfected, and this alone is sufficient for the present, as it secures domestic discipline, the maxims and most of the functions of religious life. Only the Rule should first be put into the hands of the novices, and explained to them, and if necessary shown to strangers to whom the account of the institute might properly be given. The Rule in my mind also is all that should be done for some time, in order that, by its practice, that experience be obtained Avhich is necessary for the enactment of the Constitutions. This I believe is the constant practice in all Religious Orders. The Rule is established by the Bull of Confirmation, and on that. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 159 as on a firm basis, the competent authority erects the Constitutions which can only declare, explain, and apply the Rule to the object of the Institution. The alterations, then, which were made ad interim in the York Rule cannot be continued, as all the prescriptions of said Rule are perfectly compatible with the fourth Vow. “The only thing now necessary to be determined is the Name and Titular Patron of the Congregation. I think that all this [is] virtually done by the Rescript and the Rule. In the libello supplice and in the Rescript it is denominated Piam Congi'egationem Puellarum : now though this piarn may be rather a qualification than a denomination I should like to retain it. Thus we have authoritatively decided the first part of their title— Pia Congregatio Puellarum . Now the second Rule, or rather the second paragraph of the Rule, expressly constitutes the Blessed Virgin Mary Patroness of the Institute, and by designating her only by the title of Most Glorious Queen of Heaven, in my mind strongly indicates that the Feast of the Assumption should be the titular Feast of the Congregation. This enactment of the Rule cannot be changed, no more than any other compatible with the fourth Vow, with which it appears to me not only compatible, but appropriate to its object. “ 1st. Because it is the term and reward of her co-operation here below in the salvation of souls, an object that these Religious should ever have before them to console and support them in the labours of their co-opera¬ tion. “ 2nd. It is the mystery of her life or rather that happy liberation which put an end to all the sufferings of her mortal sojourn; it is then an appropriate object of devotion and invocation to those who labour to lessen the ills and solace the woes of mortality. “3rd. It is also the commemoration of her most happy death, whom the dying are to invoke with confidence ; the veneration then paid to the mystery will doubtless be a claim to that special protection necessary for those females labouring to prepare their fellow-creatures to die happily in the Lord. “ Finally, it is the commencement of her everlasting life and her exalta¬ tion above the choirs of angels, when those blessed spirits who minister to the Avants of expiring mortals were subjected in some measure to the power and influence which the Church seems to ascribe to the Virgin when she styles her Regina Angelorum, Regina Coeli; the veneration thus paid to this consummation of her glory and her joy, is an appropriate motive with this wonder of God’s creation to employ her mediation and power in behalf of the sick and dying whom these virgins attend, that they may obtain the grace that crowns good works with perseverance and secures their happy passage from this world. And if the glorious Queen of Heaven will thus assist the objects of their charity, will not the mystery of her Coronation, so frequently and devoutly meditated by those servants of the Virgin, secure to them the grace that will show to themselves the Blessed Fruit of her womb, and crown their charity with a share of her unfading glory ? “These considerations move me to believe that it was not sine numine that the choice of [the] York Institute is made by the Rescript the Titular Patroness of this Congregation. Though I do not know the fact, yet from the w r ords of the Rule, I must believe that the Assumption is regarded at York as the great Feast of the Institute ; but it would seem more appropriate to the new Institution than even to them. I would then have the full, formal, and distinctive title of the congregation so expressed that every word would be either formally or virtually sanctioned by apostolic authority, and run thus:— i6o MARY AIKENHEAD “PlA CONGREGATIO PUELLARUM (Quae vulgo sorores charitatis vocantur) Sub Patrocinio Gloriossimae Virginis in Coelum Assumptse Pro inserviendis pauperibus Auctoritate Apostolica in Civitate Dubliniensi, ERECT A. ‘‘This would be the Canonical Title by which in all communications with Rome I would have it designated. If they were in Latin called Sorores rather than Film , it would be still more distinctive, as St, Vincent’s Congregation is generally denominated by the latter term. I would then allow Sisters of Charity which has already gone abroad to be their vulgar or common name. It is shorter and equally expressive, if not more so, of their object than any other English term that could well be given them, and your Grace knows that it is quite common for the people to denominate in a short way a religious body by a name very different from its canonical title. The regular clergy of St. Camillus for the sick and dying were called Crociferi in Italy; and the Hospitaliers of Saint John of God were called Ben fratelli; the one from the insignia, the other from the object of the Institution. “ I would have no difficulty about the change in the form of the vows, if I had not seen mention of Institute and General Superior. The former was, I think, retained from a more strict than wise adherence to the form of our vows, where the promise of entering our Society meant something very different from what it could with the York ladies. The latter surprises me. Hitherto I conceived that it was universally the practice not to mention any Superior’s name in the form of simple vows. These being contracts between God and the person, not accepted by the Church, though sanctioned by her authority, it would seem that neither her minister nor the superior who acts in virtue of her authority should have any share in the act. The contrary was, and is ever the case in solemn vows where the General Superior of the Congregation was always mentioned as the person through whose ministry the Church accepted and ratified the solemn engagement. Agreeably to these notions, the correctness of which I cannot now ascertain (but which are strictly practised in the difference between our solemn and simple vows) I would make the change thus After the word obedience , I would immediately add ‘ and also to devote my life under the direction of this sacred obedience to the service of the poor, understanding all the vows conformably to the Rules of the Pious Congre¬ gation of the Most Glorious Queen of Heaven established by apostolic authority for the perpetual service of the poor. I therefore humbly ask, &c.’ “ With your Grace it must remain to determine whether the name of the Archbishop pro tejnpore should be introduced in lieu of this : ‘ to our General Superior,’ which is found in the York form and the promise of living in the Congregation, to both of which I fear objection might be made, though I cannot now more fully explain myself. These things then being sanctioned by Dr. Troy, in one form or other, I should advise :— “ ist. That the Rule be transcribed, or if the Latin original could be had, be again translated, to which should be prefixed a translation of the Rescript and an official act of the Archbishop annexed to the Rescript, by which he declares that in virtue of said Rescript, he does erect said Congre¬ gation in such house and place. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 16 l “ 2nd. I would have the two old religious make their vows on the 15th of next month, after a previous Retreat performed by them and the whole community. “ 3rd. I would have the Act of Erection dated from said day ; and as rumours have gone abroad that nothing is fixed in that house, I would have the vows publicly made at High Mass, sung, if possible, by the Archbishop, who, in my humble opinion, should thus as it were publicly announce the erection of a new congregation under his immediate jurisdiction, and your Grace after the Gospel or before the Mass should give a homily on the occasion. “ In the meantime Mrs. Aikenhead should send me the distribution of time now observed that I may make report to your Grace. “ I think that by next Assumption day all that is now absolutely requisite to settle the form and government of the congregation can thus be done. “ To the Rule and authenticated acts I would prefix this title :— “ RULES (or rather) THE RULE Of the Pious Congregation which is usually called of the Sisters of Charity, under the patronage of the Most Glorious Queen of Heaven, Instituted by Apostolic authority for the Perpetual Service of the Poor. 1S16. “ Mr. F.’s haste to be off has occasioned [me] to be hasty and of course inaccurate in penning what was before mente concepta. For all which negli¬ gence I ask indulgence, submitting all to your Grace’s meliore seniore judicio. “ Your Grace’s most obedient and devoted servant, “ Peter Kenny. “ 19th July." The Feast of the Assumption was now approaching, and it would have been desirable that the Titular Feast of the Congregation should on its first recurrence be celebrated with all possible solemnity. However, it was found so difficult to engage priests for a High Mass that the celebration was postponed to the octave day, which, as it was the anniversary of the arrival of the two first Sisters of Charity in Ireland, had an appropriateness of its own. Accordingly on the 22nd of August High Mass was celebrated and Benediction of the Most Holy Sacrament given in the convent chapel, to the great consolation of the little community, which now consisted of six members :—the two professed mothers and four novices, namely, Sister Mary Teresa (Catherine Lynch); Sister Mary de Sales (Catherine Clinch); Sister MaryAloysius (Alicia Clinch); and Sister Mary Magdalen (Catherine Chamberlain). The “old Religious” did not make their vows on that day as Father Kenny proposed that they should do. Dr. Murray differed from his friend on this point, and considered that matters were still too unsettled to make it prudent to draw public attention to the new institute. However, on the 1st of September, the anniversary of the day on which Mother Mary Augustine and Mother Mary Catherine had made their first vows, they renewed them at a private Mass celebrated by Dr. Murray. MARY AIKENHEAD : 162 On the 10th of September, the Feast of St. Nicholas of Tolentine, the Rev. Mother and Mother Catherine began the visitation of the sick-poor in their homes ; and for the first time in Ireland religious were seen engaged in this work of benediction. CHAPTER III. THE CONGREGATION CANONICALLY ERECTED—RAHAN LODGE— FATHER ST. LEGER. LTHOUGH the Archbishop of Dublin received the Rescript of Pope Pius VII. early in January, 1816, he had not leisure to devote to the gation until the year however, Mother Mary Augustine and Mother Catherine got notice to prepare to make their perpetual vows, and, joined by their novices, they went into retreat on the 29th of November. Father Kenny came from Clongowes Wood to give them the spiritual exercises ; and the instructions being in the chapel, a few lady friends were allowed to be present. Three days later Dr. Murray wrote the following note to the Rev. Mother :— “My dear Child and Friend, “Doctor Troy has not as yet drawn out the formal deed erecting your community into a congregation. I left the Rescript with him for that purpose, but his leisure has not yet allowed him to do so. This, however, is not essential, as he has given his entire sanction to the business from the very commencement, and this is of much more consequence than any written document to that effect. I send you the Rescript for any purpose for which it may be useful. If I cannot be with you time enough for first Mass (that is before your usual hour) on Tuesday, I hope at least to intrude myself a little after ten o’clock on that day. “ A thousand blessings attend you, and all who are along with you. “ Most faithfully yours in Christ, “ D. Murray. “ Sunday night, Deer. 1 st, ’16.” canonical erection of the congre- ipproached its close. At length, Dr. Troy having, not long after, sent to the convent the long- expected Act of Institution, Dr. Murray enclosed a copy of the vows with this note :— “ Dublin , Dec. %th, 1816. “ Dear Rev. Mother, “ Enclosed I send you the form of your vows. At the end of the form the following conclusion may be written :— “ In testimony whereof I hereunto sign my name. Done in the Convent of North William-street, Dublin, this gth day of December, in the year of our Lord , 1816. “ Sister Mary Austin, called in the world Mary Frances Aikenhead. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 163 “ I intend to use my Roman vestments to-morrow, as the occasion is one on which I feel much exultation. I would like that you should make your vows in presence of the Most Sacred Host, and immediately before your Communion. I have asked Mr. Armstrong and Miss Denis to be present. When you communicate the form of the vows to Mother Catherine tell her that I invoke a thousand blessings on her sacrifice, as I do also upon yours. I hope to see you both before Mass. Adieu till then. “ Faithfully yours in Xt. “ D. Murray.” Except for the presence of the two friends invited by Dr. Murray, namely, the Vicar-General, and Miss Denis, the kind benefactor who had enabled him to build the chapel, the ceremony of that day was perfectly private. At an early hour Dr. Murray offered the Holy Sacrifice, and received the vows of the two religious. It was a happy and a memorable day for him as well as for those who were now bound irrevocably to the service of God in the poor. But the Rev. Mother always regarded the 1st of September as her profession day, because on that day she bound herself to God and to religion, and was fully resolved that, even should the new foundation fail, she would enter some other Order in which, labouring for the poor, she should fulfil her sacred engagement. Early in 1817 Dr. Troy obtained from Rome a grant of special indulgences for the new congregation, and in the spring of the same year four postulants entered the convent:—Miss Judith Gernon of Drogheda, Miss Mary Cogan of Cork, Miss Bridget O’Reilly of the county of Longford, and Miss Martha Weldon of Dublin. Up to this time the sisters had not assumed any religious costume, but had worn a simple black dress and plain muslin cap. It was now necessary they should choose a dress at once simple, inexpensive, and suitable to their profession ; and accordingly the habit, since so well known as that of the Irish Sisters of Charity, was adopted. Though composed of plain black stuff it is not inelegant. The veil is ample and falls rather close to the face; the skirt, when not pinned up at working hours, falls behind in the manner of a half train, and the sleeves are wide. The guimpe is black, and no white is seen except in the folds of linen about the face and throat. One thing alone is brilliant—the solid broad brass cross, bearing the image of the crucified Saviour on one side, which is suspended at the breast and shines in sunlight or lamplight like a gem in a dusky setting. Suspended from the girdle are the Rosary beads, and the steel chains to which are attached scissors, keys, and other requisites for the sick-room or the work-room. In putting on the religious habit the Sisters of Charity did not relinquish their surnames. Outside the convent they were called Mrs. Aikenhead, Mrs. Walsh, and so on with the rest. In the community the foundress was never called “ Mother Augustine,” for, from first to last 164 MARY AIKENHEAD : she was invariably “ the Reverend Mother.” Mother Catherine, indeed, was only for a short time known to the world in general as “ Mrs. Walsh.” The poor, owing perhaps to the singular motherliness of her countenance and manner, caught at the title, and spoke of her, and addressed her, only as “ Mother Catherine.” In the end rich and poor alike called her by no other name ; and in common parlance it was curious enough to hear the associated names of “ Mrs. Aikenhead and Mother Catherine.” At the Feast of Pentecost all except the postulants who had lately entered, assumed the religious habit without any ceremony ; but in the month of September, when two of the candidates were judged fit to be admitted to the habit, Dr. Murray considered it advisable that the ceremony should be performed in the chapel and before a moderate number of witnesses. There were about sixty persons present, who, besides attending at an unusual and edifying ceremony, had the advantage of hearing the greatest pulpit orator of the day : for Dr. Murray had induced Father Kenny to preach on the occasion. Taking for his text the words of St. Paul (2 Cor. v. 14) Charitas Christi urget nos , the preacher explained the nature and object of the institute, deducing practical instructions on the manner in which the sisters should, in the humble pursuit of their labours, set at nought the opinion and opposition of the world, endeavouring that their every act should be under the influence of those animating words of the great apostle— “The Charity of Christ urgeth us and putting strongly before them the obligation they assumed of aiming at the high virtue which this public consecration of themselves involved. From that day forth the text of Father Kenny’s sermon became the motto of the congregation. Emblazoned in their chapels, engraved on their seals, and transfused into their daily deeds are to be found these words : Charitas Christi urget nos. Dr. Troy, assisted by his coadjutor, received the candidates. The ceremonial chosen for the first public clothing, as most applicable to the duties of the Sisters of Charity, was that of the Flospitalieres of St. Thomas of Villanova, Dr. Murray having brought a copy of the ceremonial from Paris, where he obtained it in 1815. The form is still used in the conore^ation as p e arranged it. In the month of December following the first public profession took place, when Sisters Mary Teresa Lynch and Mary de Sales Clinch pronounced their vows. The ceremonial was taken, as on the previous occasion, from that of the Flospitalieres of St. Thomas of Villanova. Two days later, Dr. Murray was once more called away to Paris. This year of satisfactory progress was succeeded by one which, with great blessings, brought also severe trials. In 1818, the little community lost by death two very edifying and useful members, and a dear young friend whose heart was set on being a Sister of Charity, HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 1^5 and who, in all human probability, would, if spared, have been a useful member of the congregation. Sister Mary Teresa Lynch, the first who had entered in the new convent, caught a fever, and in the third month after her profession became so ill as to leave no hope of her recovery. Father Kenny, who was at that time confessor to the sisters, and attached to the little chapel of the Jesuits in Hardwicke- street (formerly, before that street existed, the convent of the Poor Clares, with its entrance in Dorset-street), frequently visited the dying sister; the Rev. Walter Meyler, one of the parochial clergy, adminis¬ tered the last sacraments, and on the fourth Sunday in Lent she expired, while the community were praying around her. Next day her remains were taken to the little chapel, where High Mass was celebrated next morning. The office was numerously attended, for all who heard the circumstance were touched by the early call to her reward of one who had consecrated herself to the service of God and the poor. Her life in the world had been one of generous devotion to her family, the younger members of which she had watched over with a mother’s care, and worked for like a slave. In the convent she was edifying. She strenuously aimed at perfection, especially the perfection of obedience ; and the readiness with which she resigned her own will and undertook severe duties astonished those who knew that in her early youth, before her family met with reverses, she had been brought up in the very lap of ease. On the 4th of March she was laid in St. James’s churchyard, in a vault belonging to the Poor Clares of Harold’s cross, which community, in allowing the interment, rendered a kind service to the Sisters of Charity, who had not then a burial place of their own. 1 This first death, so like a sacrificial rite of solemn significance, made a profound impression on the little community. The Rev. Mother, when alluding to the circumstance thirty-three years later, said that the impression made on her was so awful, deep, and lasting, that she never attempted to describe what she felt. During Sister Mary Teresa’s illness, a new source of anxiety arose on the score of another sister who showed symptoms of consumption. This was Sister Mary Magdalen Chamberlain, the young lady who had been prevented by ill-healih from going with Miss Aikenhead to York. Summer brought no improvement of a lasting kind, and her 1 The graveyard of St. James’s Church, in the street of the same name, was a favourite place of interment with the Catholics in old times. O’Keefe, the dramatist, whose father was buried there in 1758, close to the tomb of Sir Toby Butler, whose effigy in stone with wig and gown lay all along the sepulchral monument, tells us that on St. James’s Day it was customary for the friends and relatives of those buried in the churchyard to come and dress up the graves with flowers, cut papers, Scripture phrases, chaplets, and a number of pretty and pious devices.—“Recollections,” vol. i., pp. 22, 47. Previous to the establish¬ ment of the cemeteries of Golden Bridge and Glasnevin, the burial fees paid by Catholics was a considerable source of income to the incumbent of St. James’s, amounting, it is said, to _£6oo per annum. i66 MARY AIKENHEAD : profession, which was to have taken place in July, was postponed. Next month,«however, all hope had to be relinquished. Her earnest desire was granted, and she was made happy by being allowed to pronounce her vows ; Dr. Murray administered to her the rites of the Church ; and on the 22nd of August, in the full possession of her senses, she sweetly passed away. The congregation lost in this sister a most promising member : one who was humble, recollected, and singularly mortified ; most obliging to all, and indefatigable in the service of the poor. She too was laid in the vault of the Poor Clares in St. James’s churchyard. The third death was that of Miss Martha Weldon, who shortly after her entrance, in 1817, was attacked with a nervous fever, and before the year had expired was obliged to return home, on the understanding, however, that she would be received again in case her health should be restored. This was not to be. She fell into decline, and in the winter of 1818 there was no longer any hope. By Dr. Murray’s desire Mrs. Aikenhead and Mother Catherine went to visit her. She had begged this favour, and it was a comfort to her to see them. Having borne the great disappointment of her life, and the painful tedium of her last days, with a sweet conformity which edified all around her, she died a happy, holy death on the 20th of December. At the request of her family, who knew how entirely her heart had been with the congre¬ gation, her remains were laid in the little convent chapel previous to interment; and thus she came in death to rest for a little space in the midst of those with whom it. had been her fond dream to dwell for life. Several Masses were offered for the eternal repose of her soul, and she was then carried from the convent precincts to the grave. It may here be mentioned that, about two years later, her sister Miss Eliza Weldon entered the novitiate of the Sisters of Charity. She took the name of Mary Francis, and made her profession after the usual term of probation; but in less than two months from that date symptoms of consumption set in, and she did not long survive. Indeed during her noviceship her health seemed so delicate that it was proposed to her to return home. This step she would not consent to take, nor would her father pain her by requiring her to do so. When Mrs. Aikenhead mentioned to Mr. Weldon her apprehensions regard¬ ing his daughter, she said at the same time that, knowing his circum¬ stances to be straitened, she would not allow him to pay the dower stipulated for. But this just man replied that, having given his child to God, he would not lessen the portion he should have given her if she were going to be settled in the world ; and accordingly he paid the full dower though it was evident she could not long survive. The loss of two highly promising sisters in the very early days of the institute was indeed a severe affliction. Mrs. Aikenhead would at any time have mourned over the loss of such ardent and devoted daughters HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 167 of the congregation ; but just at this crisis their removal seemed calamitous. The work was increasing on every side, while the hands were lessening. The strain, therefore, on the old members became extremely severe. For her own part the Rev. Mother met the emer¬ gency by doing the duty of several offices. She was Superior; and she was Novice Mistress in the place of Mother Catherine who had to be relieved. She went on the sick mission ; and when she returned after her round of the lanes she would take up the duty of an ailing or absent sister. Oftentimes she went to the kitchen and dressed the dinner for the community. This last avocation, unfortunately, did not always greatly task her skill; for even under the most careful manage¬ ment commons sometimes ran short, and there was a period when the dinner in the William-street convent consisted, on two days of the week, of nothing better than the oatmeal porridge commonly called “ stirabout.” One day when all the sisters were out the Rev. Mother thought the opportunity a good one for scouring the stairs. She was in the midst of the work with her sleeves turned up, her long skirt pinned back, and a capacious checked apron covering her habit, when a ring at the door summoned her from the pail. Descending forth¬ with to answer the call, she found that a Right Rev. prelate wished to know was the superioress of the Sisters of Charity at home. She at once ushered in the visitor and retired, saying that Rev. Mother would be with him presently. In two or three minutes the apron was removed, the train let down, and everything set right ; and Mrs. Aikenhead made her appearance to hold high converse with his lordship, who seemed not to have the least suspicion of the sudden transformation that had taken place from the hard-worked serving sister to the dignified and elegant Mother Superior. Mrs. Aikenhead was at this time of her life singularly preposses¬ sing in appearance. Her figure had lost nothing of its symmetry, nor was her step less elastic than of old. The religious habit suited her, as well if not better than a secular garb. A person who saw her for the first time, as she stepped across a yard on one of her charitable peregrinations, could not help asking: “Who is that noble-looking woman ?” There was less vivacity now in the habitual expression of her face, but its native mobility was not lost. When silent she often had a preoccupied, almost a severe look ; but when she spoke, it seemed as if the countenance conveyed more than the words, and registered with greater fidelity every change of feeling. Whether she spoke, or whether she was silent, the beautiful well-set eyes dominated the face. Her healthy mental constitution enabled her to bear the strain which was now inevitable, and to meet with more than equanimity the difficulties she had to encounter in every step of a hitherto MARY AIKENHEAD : 168 untrodden road. In Ireland precedent coulu not be cited in any case that came before her for consideration. Here, religious had never hitherto been brought into daily, almost hourly, communication with the world. But Mary Aikenhead’s former apprehensions had vanished ; her courage was now equal to every emergency, and her faith was so unshaken in the providence of God that the future was no mo e 1o her than a tabula rasa on which the divine mercy and goodness would assuredly trace the way in lines of light. However, her bodily strength, though considerable, was not equal to the exertions she had been groins: through. To her other laborious avocations she had added in the early part of 1818 a constant attendance on the sick sisters. During the illness of one of the natients she took only an occasional rest without undressing; and or a monfi previous to the death of Sister Mary Teresa Lynch sire . at up with her every night, allowing herself little or no rest even during the daytime. At length, her own health gave way. The physicians who were consulted found that her nerves had become much relaxed, that symptoms of water on the chest had appeared, and that the heart was not unaffected. They judged that complete rest and change of air were necessary for her restoration. Fortunately she, too, was under obedience; and the ecclesiastical Superior imperatively enforced her departure for Rahan Lodge, in the King’s County, a retired country seat of the O’Brien family. These good friends, though their names have not appeared for some time past in our narrative, were nevertheless unfading in their help to the new institution. At this time, as indeed at many a previous and many a subsequent period of our history, Mrs. O’Brien proved a devoted and powerful ally. Oftentimes in the early days of the William-street convent she put on the poked bonnet and the hooded cloak of a Sister of Charity, and accompanied one of the nuns on the visitation of the sick, thereby leaving another of the community free for a different duty. On other occasions she conveyed the sisters in her carriage to distant places which otherwise they should have had neither time nor strength to reach. Her generous donations and those of the O’Brien family in general, were of material help at this crisis, as well as in other circumstances of difficulty. Her sister-in- law Miss O'Brien was a liberal supporter of the new foundation, and that lady’s father, Mr. Denis O’Brien, gave to the congregation £100 a year during twelve years, beginning from the date of Mary Aikenhead’s departure for York. It was a happiness to Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien that their country house could now be made available in carrying out the doctors’ advice, and it can easily be imagined how enchanted these friends were to have their dear Mary with them once more. But one can also understand how severe a blow it was to her to be obliged at this early stage to leave her convent, and separate herself from the little family dwelling and working there. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 169 About seven o’clock on a fine morning in the month of July, 1818, Mrs. Aikenhead and her friends arrived at the Portobello harbour just outside the city boundaries on the Rathmines side, and took their places in the covered barge, or “ packet,” which was about to sail, or rather to glide away at a snail’s pace towards the middle regions of the Green Isle. This water-way was a favourite mode of travelling in those days. Two rival companies, the Grand Canal Company, and the Royal Canal Company, having with commendable enterprise and engineering skill, intersected the great plain extending from Dublin to the Shannon, the principal towns of the interior were rendered more conveniently accessible to travellers, and general traffic through the country was much extended. The shares went up and down like other speculations, and people talked of “ going into the canals,” as their descendants now do of venturing into railways, investing in American bonds, or trying their luck in the Lombardo Venetians. The only question was whether they would purchase into the “ Grand Canals” or speculate in the “ Royals.” Many travellers really did think the canal boat, with its “state cabin ” furnished with two rows of seats and a long table, and its Noah’s ark hulk flattened into a deck on the top, much preferable to the dusty, hot, top-heavy stage coach with its hampered “ six insides.” But indeed the advantages of this mode of locomotion were, if one believed the companies’ advertisements, numerous and surpassing :— The passengers were sure to have a great pleasure from the variety of beautiful views the country presented ; they were not delayed for dinner or breakfast; they were allowed the enjoyment of free air, exercise, and repose ; and lastly they were safe from robbers ! It might have been added that travelling by passage boat was soothing to the nerves, the motion being almost as imperceptible as the progress ; and that it was as enjoyable as a walk through the green fields, seeing that the canal meandered through meadows and pastures, touching only the outskirts of towns, while the larks sang in the heavens high over their nests on the banks. Accidents being out of the question, nothing could ever happen to frighten any of the passengers, except indeed the half-fares, that is to say the children, who with Noah’s story no doubt in their heads were in the habit of falling into an agony of terror whenever they perceived the cabin darkening, the boat sinking between the embankment of the locks, and the flood-gates opening behind. As a journey of thirty or forty miles consumed the whole day, the passengers had ample opportunity of observing one another if not of becoming intimately acquainted. The talk in the cabin, the walk on the deck, the breakfasting and the dining—the latter ceremony being of the simplest character, as the entertainment almost invariably consisted of a boiled leg of mutton and turnips cooked on board—were 13 170 MARY AIKENHEAD : the events of the day in which character, taste, good breeding or the contrary, were displayed. People often talked in after years of those who had attracted their attention, and whose names they had learned in just such a short stage as this of life’s journey; for here, in these old boats, various classes and fortunes met together: gentlefolks, farmers, traders, military men and tourists, priests and parsons. On that particular July day there was not only the Mother-General of the Irish Sisters of Charity among the group slowly traversing the plains of Kildare ; but there was also the Rector of a college lately established near Rahan, Father Robert St. Leger of the Society of Jesus. The good father was not so absorbed in his affairs as to allow his fellow-travellers to pass quite unregarded. Something in Mrs. Aikenhead’s manner or in her words attracted his attention ; he observed her closely ; and made up his mind that she was a woman of no ordinary stamp. Before nightfall the journey was happily accomplished, and next morning Mrs. Aikenhead could look around and see how peaceful, sweet, and pastoral was this Rahan or “ ferny place,” as the spot is named in Gaelic. But remote and unimportant as the place now looked, it neverthe¬ less had had its history. The ferns were rooted in a sacred soil, and if the immemorial rocks could speak strange tales might be revealed. There had been a cluster of churches and schools 1 there in days gone by, round which the native youth, and scholars from Britain and the Continent, encamped in wattle huts, and stirred the monastic silence as they volubly rehearsed their themes. During the penal times Mass was usually celebrated in secluded places of the neighbourhood on great blocks of stone, while guards were posted around to protect the 1 The monastery of Rahan was founded towards the end of the sixth century by St. Carthage or Mochuda, who became a bishop, resided there for forty years, and attracted a great community of disciples, not only from Ireland, but from foreign countries. Expelled by the jealousy of some of the clergy of the district, and the tyranny of the king, he departed with his whole community, numbering 847, exclusive of lay attendants and the children of his school. In the course of this emigration they were well received by saints and by kings, and Carthage was offered sites on which to establish his monastery. He refused all however until the chief of the Decies seeing he would not accept anything better, told him that a wild tract beyond the mountain, rich in forests and fish should be his for ever. Carthage and his followers travelled on towards this solitude by a way still called in Irish “The path of the Saints.” There on the banks of the Blackwater he founded a monastery, a college, and an asylum for lepers,/nany of whom he had brought with him from Rahan. And this was the beginning of the renowned and holy city of Lismore.—Rev. M. Kelly’s notes to the “Martyrology of Tallagh,” pp. 134-135. A distinguished foreigner, St. Constantine, succeeded St. Carthage at Rahan, and cleared a large tract of land near that place, which was called “ Constantine’s Plain.” In it were a town and church called Cell-Belaigh, which Rumaun, the poet, endowed with a third of his wealth, and such was the influx of foreigners to it, attracted probably by the fame of the monastery, that seven streets are said to have been exclusively inhabited by them. Rumaun is said to have been buried at Rahan in the same tomb with O’Suanaigh, the patron saint. The ruins are small but of great interest to antiquaries .—“ Diocese of Meath,” Yol. iii., p. 625. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. I 7 I minister of God and the congregation from the intrusion of the priest- hunters. In 1798, the Catholics suffered terribly from the Black Horse and the Orange Yeomanry. “For several Sundays,” as it is recorded, “ Mass was prevented, and the people were so terrified at the wanton cruelties perpetrated by the military, that they often remained in the fields all night, apprehensive lest their houses would be attacked and themselves put to death.” 1 Just at the time of Mrs. Aikenhead’s visit, silence and peace were the outward characteristics of the place; and yet the understanding heart, if not the eye of sense, could perceive that the place was instinct with life—and life of that intense character which recalled the earlier age of scholarship and sanctity. In the previous year the Presentation nuns had made a foundation at Rahan, and opened schools for the instruction of the poor children of the surrounding country; and during this very season Father Kenny and his brethren of the Society of Jesus were busily engaged in their newly-opened college at Tullabeg, in the same neighbourhood. Nor were the residents at Rahan Lodge without their share, even in these works ; they were as ever neighbourly and helpful; and Miss O’Brien had a special title to rank as a founder, for she had endowed the convent with three acres of land and maintenance for four nuns, and also had liberally assisted in establishing the new College of St. Stanislaus. Happily and speedily the enforced rest and fresh country air wrought a change in Mrs. Aikenhead’s health; nor was she sorry in the end to have this interval of disengagement from active work : for her mind was very seriously occupied, and leisure was absolutely necessary for the consideration of vitally important questions. The constitutions, on which the well-being and stability of the new congre¬ gation would mainly depend, had not yet been formed ; and although she could not without aid frame this code, there were many points which required that in their practical bearings they should be deeply meditated by her. Again it was clear that the training of the Novices would before long devolve entirely on her : for Mother Catherine felt that she was not qualified for that office, her attraction being for the sick-poor. The Rev. Mother was now seriously preoccupied by this subject: the more, as she felt that she who had been so lately a novice herself, was but indifferently prepared to undertake so respon¬ sible an office as that of forming religious for an altogether new institute. Father Kenny well knew how these matters were pressing on her mind, and gladly would have assisted her. But he found it impossible to command the time requisite for the work of organising the congre¬ gation. How could he indeed, while the demands on his attention 1 “Diocese of Meath,” vol. ii., p. 534. 172 MARY AIKENHEAD : and his time were so varied and so constant, that, as a matter of fact, he hardly got time to read his breviary ? However he took care that she should not suffer from his inability to come to her assistance at that moment. He introduced her to the Rector of St. Stanislaus, Father Robert St. Leeer—the same whose notice she had attracted on board the boat; and, commending the interests of the new congregation to his kindly care, was fully sensible that he had given to the Rev. Mother a truly helpful friend. To Father St. Leger, therefore, she laid open her whole mind, and confided her deep anxieties. “ He saw at once,” as we read in the Annals of the Congregation, “ the work before him, and threw his whole heart into it. His first efforts were directed to forming the Superior herself, knowing well of what main import it was that she should be well instructed in the whole arcanum of spiritual life, before she could with any degree of confidence undertake the instruc¬ tion of others. Hence he spared no labour in grounding her in all that he considered necessary, not only by oral instruction, but by a very valuable series of letters addressed to her after her return to Dublin.” This was in fact the beginning of an intimate association extending over six years between the zealous and devoted Jesuit and the superior of the new institute. Perhaps in this place may fitly be inserted an abstract of his labours ; and some extracts from his letters, which give an idea of the spirit of the congregation, and to a certain extent reveal the spring of the Rev. Mother’s own interior life. “On examining the Rules and Constitutions of the York Institute,” continue the Annals, “ he found that though the base was the Rule of St. Ignatius, to prevent its being recognised as such the Rules had been so transposed—the Rules of the Summary, which regard the practice of interior virtue, being confounded with the common rules, which refer principally to external observances—that it seemed to him shorter to remodel the whole than to try to correct the existing code. Accordingly, thinking it no violation of his own rules to give a correct version to those who already had them in substance, he gave Rev. Mother a copy of the Rules of the Summary, the common rules and the official rules, and desired her to try to model her conventual observances on them. He set himself to recon¬ struct the Constitutions, keeping as close as possible to those of St. Ignatius in the first nine chapters : the tenth, regarding the priests, should necessarily differ much. Meanwhile he gave Rev. Mother a copy of the General Examen which prefaces the Constitutions, desiring her to show it to those who applied for admission and wished to know something of the Institute ; and he suggested that an official letter containing an abridg¬ ment of the Constitutions should be sent to Propaganda. This document, called the ‘ Ten Articles,’ he also drew up for her, giving in it an indica¬ tion of points on which he intended to enlarge in the Constitutions. This was forwarded by His Grace to Rome, but Propaganda required that the Constitutions should be entirely completed before the question of confirm¬ ing them could be entertained. Father St. Leger devoted to them every spare moment he could command, and in about three years completed two HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 173 entire copies, one in Latin, the other in English. These our dear Rev. Mother copied. The Latin one was sent to Propaganda, the English copy received Dr. Murray’s approbation, to which he added that he enjoined them to be observed by all the Sisters of Charity within his jurisdiction : affixing his official seal. Besides the weighty and gratuitously assumed task of drawing up the Constitutions, Father St. Leger was indefatigable in the instruction of the communities, giving the Spiritual Exercises and Instruc¬ tions during the Triduum before renovation—also by a series of letters addressed to our dear Rev. Mother, full of wisdom and prudence, in which, as in his instructions, he took the greatest pains to bring down to our level all that might seem above it, by giving incidents and examples in the Society by which he made clear and practical what might otherwise have been obscure.” The importance which Father St. Leger attached to this work of framing the Constitutions may be inferred from the following passage in one of his letters to Mrs. Aikenhead:— “ I am hard at work for you, and hope when we next meet to show you the Latin copy completed. The Constitutions are rather long, but I am sure you will not consider them too long since they are to be perpetual, and cannot be retouched at a future day to supply deficiency. I shall only add that even if the Divine Lawgiver had not deigned to descend to minutiae in legislating for his chosen people, the example of all the holy founders who have appeared in the Church would move me to judge that regularity and religious government are materially aided by them.” And again, having as he thought reason to apprehend that the Rev. Mother had not taken sufficient pains to inspire into the younger members of the congregation a high notion of their Constitutions, he thus writes :— “ Believe me, a love and veneration for your Constitutions is the great thing to be inspired into each member : their obedience to them will be in exact proportion to their respect for them. This attachment to their Rule was what held up the Society at all times as an object of wonder, and made them respect themselves so much that they merited the respect of others. May you never know the curse of religious persons differing in their opinion from their Constitutions ! It is one of the points of manifestation; and it is directly and indirectly inculcated to the Mistress of Novices to teach her novices a love for their Institute, and respect for its precepts. We were taught that our Constitutions are the essence of wisdom, and the Gospel put into the shape in which God would wish us to practise it. Now I will confess a fear I have. It is, that you have laboured very little to give your novices a high notion of their Constitutions : and though they may think them very good, still in their eyes they are not the next book to the Scriptures for them.” The Constitutions, which cost so much time and thought and labour, received many years later a high eulogium from an ecclesiastic, who, writing on the subject to a friend said : “ As to the system of spiritual life propounded in them (the Constitutions), it is the system of St. Ignatius. You will find it to be high perfection and difficult, 174 MARY AIKENHEAD : but same time totally practical. The soul formed on it will be truly interior, and will have learned that death to self, by which alone it can begin to live to God, and love Him.'’ When at moments the Rev. Mother seemed discouraged by the difficulties that encompassed her, the wise and steady friend thus sustained her with animating words :— “ We are not,” he says, “ to give way to low spirits or sadness. Let not any interior trials affright you. Remember that you are not given up to be the sport of the enemy as he pleases to attack you, but that the. strength, measure, and duration are fixed by God, and cannot be increased at the will of our adversary. Ponder this and it will encourage as well as comfort you. Above all other things be not disheartened, it is not alarming to fall into trivial faults, but it is truly alarming to be dis¬ couraged by it. Remember I expect faults, and many of them. It would be unwise to imagine that such things will not, nay, must not occur: we should therefore make up our minds to rise speedily, and not commit ten faults because we have had the weakness to be guilty of one .... It is easy to be resigned when no cross rests on us ;—it is then easy to make generous offerings : but, one act of contentedness at what God appoints when the chalice is offered to our lips, is worth whole months of the other exercise.” Speaking of perseverance in prayer, he says :— “ The little prayer of St. Ignatius is a most useful one : my notion however is that it is difficult to make three or four of these acts in the day ‘ with a great heart and a willing mind,’ but that it is very easy to make one or two hundred. 1 Do not, for the love God, let disgust, or what may appear insincerity in making these acts be a motive for giving them up. Persevere, and God will not fail to impart a rich blessing of success on your exertions. Had F. de la Colombiere permitted similar feelings to deter him from eliciting such acts, he never would have reached the height of virtue which now challenges our admiration. You say it is now your turn to wait, you that have been so long waited for, and in this humble disposition of soul which must bring down the complacent eyes of God on you, you brave the pains, disgusts, and difficulties you meet in the way of virtue. I scarcely wish, hope I cannot, that you, or I, or any one can have things so much to our liking, or attended with so few disagreeable circumstances, as to falsify the divine words ‘ through many difficulties we must enter the kingdom of heaven,’ but I shall never feel solicitous at your having some¬ thing to suffer, at your experiencing discouragement, &c., when I see you make this suffering or discouragement a new incitement to union with and dependence on God. Read the 25th ch. 3rd book of the Imitation, and you will understand well my meaning. Do you not think that I and every one else feels at times these disgusts, depression of heart and tedium in the J The little prayer of St. Ignatius spoken of above is as follows :—“Take, O Lord, and receive my entire liberty—my memory, my understanding, my whole will. Whatever I have or possess Thou hast given me. Behold, O Lord, I restore all to Thee, and commit it wholly to the disposal of thy will. Give me but thy love and thy grace. With these I am rich enough. I ask nothing more of Thee.” Pere Jennesseaux says that take as well as receive is in the original prayer ; and that it has a special significance as expressing God’s right- Receive is added to express the creature’s voluntary offering. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 175 way of virtue ? But if we make even these a means of acquiring conformity, and in the spirit of sacrifice offer the heart for such feelings, what harm do they do our souls ? I shall add that the interior acts I have spoken of, frequently remove the sting of the feeling.” The following 1 extracts from another series of Father St. Lexer’s letters permit us to divine how great had been the progress of his pupil, and also show how experienced and yet how tender was the hand that guided the wayfarer into those narrow paths along the mountain steeps:— “ You have much reason to thank God for the serenity of mind He has been pleased to bestow on you. May He in his mercy, if such be his holy will, continue at least for a time the favour. This last wish is enough to show you that, though I enjoy the present good, it does not make me exclude the apprehension of future evil. No, the life of a Christian is an unremitting warfare, in which the hand of God may for a while ward off the blows of our adversary, yet his desire is that we often bear the brunt of the battle ourselves. Perhaps you have already experienced, at least occa¬ sionally, the truth of what I say, and had to contend with your former enemy. But do not lose courage, still make sacrifices to God, even though your heart belie your words, and you will feel your will to be strengthened in good, and peace return to your heart. “ I do not expect that your heart is so detached from things below, as that you can look with the same indifference on health or sickness, on comfort or dereliction, interior or exterior—life or death. But I see in you a spirit that will make you dear to Jesus Christ, and an object of compla¬ cency to the court of heaven ; a spirit that animates you to give your heart whatever it cost to God, to check it in its desires for his sake, and in the spirit of his holy servants, to offer up not only its comforts, but even its wishes to Him in the perfect spirit of sacrifice. Your health will not admit the pious austerities of the saints, but it will not impede the crucifixion of the yearnings of the heart. Crucify the wish of better health, of comforts you do not enjoy, of being freed from evils you suffer ; it would be infidelity to indulge them voluntarily, though it is impossible not to feel them : but they are sources of great merit. Believe me that the meeting every wish with a * Receive, O Lord,’ &c. &c., in the spirit of annihilation of heart, will be more than an heroic act for your poor heart, and will be loading it with a cross heavier than the fasts and watchings of the ancient anchorites. Oh, teach it to love God alone, to be attached tenderly to nothing else : whatever you love to offer yourself daily for the privation of it, whatever you enjoy, take it from Him with the same dependence. You have already had your purgatory, you have worn the crown of thorns, the crown of glory alone awaits you in a better world ; but it will daily cost you many a hard struggle. “ I promised you some time since the prayer of F. de la Colombiere ; I now send it to you. It was not the sacrifice of his relations that gave him most pain. ‘There is something, O my God !’ he said, ‘which costs me infinitely more : it is the sacrifice of my friends ; and behold, O Lord, I freely make it, though my heart bleeds as I pronounce the words,’ &c. When will your heart raise itself up in the fervorous sincerity of this prayer? I am sure you are learning to realise these happy dispositions in it. But do not imagine that I want you to exclude the comforts of friendship. No ; I only want to exclude that affection or attachment which is destructive of peace of mind, or perfect conformity to God’s will, and is entertained in MARY AIKENHEAD: I 76 the heart without being offered to God. Enjoy all the comforts of friend¬ ship, for they come from God ; but enjoy them in such a manner that you offer yourself to be deprived of them whenever it please God to withdraw them. What I say of this wish, I say of every other motion that may arise in it. So that my delight would be to behold you watching the pleasures and displeasures, the comforts and anxieties, the wishes and contradictions, in fine, every motion of your heart in order to offer it in the generous spirit of the little prayer of St. Ignatius. Ah ! how little earthly dross could reside in the soul if chastened hourly by the practice of this holy exercise ! And how little purgatory would await the soul tried by such mortification ! “ I see that you are endeavouring to make progress, and that you are succeeding in your efforts; and I perceive with delight that any little difficulty you meet with is not enough to discourage you. To go on sweetly when the grace of God supports us is but a trifling triumph over nature; but to persevere in the sacrifice of our hearts and wills, to curb every wish that may arise when the sensible comfort of grace is withdrawn, is no despicable act of mortification. And, I trust, that God in his mercy will strengthen and enable you to offer up hourly to the Lord, amidst desolation no less than con¬ solation, the grateful sacrifice of a heart that knows not what it is to form a wish except for Him and in Him. You say I did well to add a comment on the prayer of La Colombiere, and seem as if you thought I was smoothing down matters only in compliment to you. It is by no means the case. I allow you to seek, as your Saviour did, a portion of human comfort after first raising your heart to heaven, and to ask these little consolations to “stay with you an hour:” but it must be done in submission in the hour of trial; and, when the soul enjoys peace and quiet she must by many an act acquire a detachment from them : in fine the disposition contained in the 15th chap., 3rd book of the Imitation, w'hich you can read at your leisure. It will show you what I mean, and at the same time prove that I was not merely making concessions to your weakness. As I am very anxious that you should persevere in this holy and meritorious exercise of the holocaust of the heart, I shall suggest another manner of doing it in the spirit of poverty. You gave up w'orldly w'ealth, and for fear of attachment to it you now refuse yourself what is not necessary, and keep nothing without leave. Strip your heart in like manner of its wishes, its desires, its affec¬ tions, and keep none of them in it without leave of your Divine Spouse, Jesus Christ, who has taken the dominion of it. Do not say that this is an exercise of familiarity fit only for saints. Sursum corda, I say to you in the language of the Church ; raise up your heart with confidence to God ; seek without fear a devout converse and union with Him, and be assured He will not repulse you. One of your victories must be over that pusillanimity w r hich keeps you from seeking His conversation, and consequently from seeing that it has no bitterness or tedium in it, and which prevents you from reflecting that the heavenly words of the Redeemer w'ere addressed not only to his saints and apostles, but even to Samaritans, publicans, and sinners, w'ho enjoyed his sweet company and conversation, and were not driven away when they sought to be sharers in it.” During Mrs. Aikenhead’s visit Rahan Lodge was by no means a solitude. The Tullabeg College and the Presentation Convent excited much interest as new foundations of great promise, and attracted many visitors to the neighbourhood. Dr. Murray spent some time at the Lodge ; that fine specimen of an Irish gentleman of continental culture, Dr. Plunket, Bishop of Meath, had his head-quarters in the same hospitable house during his visitation of the western part of the HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 177 diocese ; and Dr. Curtis, lately president of the Irish College at Salamanca, and soon to be named to the primacy of Ireland, came there too. Miss O’Brien, 1 though now over fifty years of age, was making preparations to enter the convent she had helped to found; and Father St. Leger’s widowed mother and his young sister were about to take the same step. The remembrance of past times, the rich promise of the future, the vigorous work of the present hour vivified the atmosphere; and the intense Catholic life—so peaceful and unobtrusive in its operation—which permeated all, was congenial and invigorating in no small degree to the Superior of the Sisters of Charity, who knew that the best part of her work still lay before her. CHAPTER IV. SECOND FOUNDATION—VISITORS FROM YORK—FIRST MEMBERS OF THE CONGREGATION. |wj|FTER a sojourn of more than two months at Rahan, Mrs. ClHl Aikenhead returned to her convent, much restored in health, greatly strengthened by Father St. Leger’s spiri¬ tual instructions, and full of hope since he had promised his constant and utmost help in training the future mem¬ bers of the congregation. She now set herself to accomplish what her illness had delayed, namely, the separation of the novices from the professed sisters. Father Kenny had suggested this step, Father St. Leger urged its execution, and Dr. Murray fully coincided in their views. The very best opportunity that could be hoped for occurred when Mrs. O’Brien and the ladies who were associated with her in the care of the refuge, which in 1814 had been removed from Ash-street to Stanhope-street, pressed the Sisters of Charity to make a foundation at the latter place, and take charge of the Institution. The house indeed was small, but there was ground enough for building on. Dr. Murray undertook to raise funds for the erection of chapel and cells : a task that was rendered comparatively easy by the generosity of the friend who had supplied him with money for the additions he had made to the convent in North William-street. The greater part of a sum of ;£r,ooo, which was immediately placed at his 1 Miss O’Brien, in religion Sister Mary Clare, a truly kind and generous friend to the Sisters of Charity, died in the convent at Rahan in 1827. Father St. Leger in announcing her death, says: “ Her sufferings were unparalleled except by the heroic and truly religious patience with which they were borne. I never went to her of late without a mixture of awe and admiration. She was a martyr not only in suffering, but also in sanctity.” 178 MARY AIKENHEAD : disposal, was given by this worthy friend in need, Miss Denis. The additions were already in progress when Mrs. Aikenhead returned from Rahan in September, and the building was carried on vigorously during the succeeding two months. In November, Father Kenny gave the general retreat to the community in North William-street. The intructions, as on the two previous occasions, were in the chapel, and a few ladies, friends of the sisters and of the institution, were allowed to be present. Mother Catherine, who kept a quaint little diary at this period, remarks that these friends had never before heard such discourses as Father Kenny delivered during this retreat, nor had the community—except from the same person. Another constant friend to whom the community were singularly indebted at this time was Dr. Everard, Archbishop of Mytelene and coadjutor in the see of Cashel. The sisters held him in the very highest respect, ranked him among their best bene¬ factors, and prayed daily that Almighty God might fill him more and more with his own Spirit. On Sunday, the 17th of January, 1819, the professed sisters, four in number, renewed their vows at Mass, celebrated in the convent by Archbishop Everard ; a few days later Dr. Murray announced his intention of sending some of the community to the House of Refuge in Stanhope-street; and on the evening of the 29th the Rev. Mother and Sister Mary Joseph O’Reilly were conveyed there by Mrs. O’Brien. It was a cold, dreary evening ; everything had been upset by the building operations ; and the impression made on the new inmates was anything but cheerful. However, with the assistance of three young women who were in the House of Refuge as aids, order was so far established that on the 2nd of February, the Feast of the Purifica¬ tion, Dr. Murray celebrated the first Mass in the new chapel, and blessed the house. After the ceremony the Archbishop of Mytelene, the priests of the parish, and a few of the secular friends of the institution, breakfasted with Dr. Murray, to whom this day also was a day of exultation. In succeeding years it was his custom to say Mass for the sisters on that festival, regarding it as the foundation day of the house, which, from that date was called the Convent of the Purification. The three young women who had helped to arrange matters in the new establishment, were on that day received as postulants in the rank of domestic sisters. One of the number did not persevere, but the others lived and died edifying and useful members of the congregation. After the function in Stanhope-street, Dr. Murray went to North William-street, where he gave the habit to Sister Mary Paul O’Reilly. In a few days she and the other two novices, Sister Mary Peter Gernon, and Sister Mary Jerome Corbally, joined the Rev. Mother, who thus entered on her office of mistress of novices in the new foundation, with four novices first-class, and three HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 179 domestic postulants. Before the end of the year six young ladies entered the noviceship, of whom only two remained, Sister Mary John Cahill, and Sister Mary Ignatius Sweetman. In the convent at North William-street remained three professed sisters, namely, the rectress, Mother Catherine Walsh ; Sister Mary de Sales Clinch • Sister Mary Aloysius Clinch ; and one domestic candidate, Mary Whelan, afterwards Sister Mary Magdalen, a highly valued member of the congregation. All went on there during the year in a peaceful round of prayer and work. Dr. Murray sang High Mass in the little chapel on the Feast of the Sacred Heart, and Father Kenny preached there for the benefit of the orphans on the following Sunday. Mother Catherine notes that the sermon was worthy of the subject and the preacher ; “ and oh !” she exclaims, “ may the Lord in his mercy preserve this holy and matchless man !” Great was the regret of the whole community when they learned almost immediately after, that this “ matchless man,” who had been their confessor and friend for nearly three years, was to sail for America in a few days. He was succeeded as confessor by Father Esmonde of the Society of Jesus. As the house could now receive aid from the novices and postulants sent thither from Stanhope-street, it became possible to extend the sphere of usefulness. On the 11th of August, Mother Catherine and Sister Mary de Sales went for the first time to visit Jervis-street Hospital. In the little chronicle it is noted that Mrs. John O’Brien accompanied the nuns; “and here,” adds the writer, “ I will not omit mentioning the great advantages the Sisters of Charity have derived from the acquaintance of that admirable lady. She has been a benefactress and a model of edification to them.” The visitation of the hospital was continued without intermission until in after years the entire superintendence of the institution was under¬ taken by the Sisters of Mercy. About the same time the Rev. Mother and Sister Mary Paul O’Reilly went from Stanhope-street to the parochial schools in Abbey-street to open a Sunday-school. The sisters also undertook the religious instruction of the day-schools, which afterwards were removed to King’s Inns-street, placed under the Board of Education, and given into the charge of the Sisters of Charity. The next public or official invitation which the sisters received to extend their charitable work, was in the spring of 1821, when the governor of Kilmainham Gaol requested Dr. Murray to send the nuns to visit two young women, who, having been convicted of murder, were in prison under sentence of death. The Rev. Mother and Mother Catherine at once responded to this sad summons. They were accompanied on their first visit by the Rev. Andrew Ennis, and by Mrs. O’Brien ; afterwards they went alone. They were treated by i8o MARY AIKENHEAD : the governor and the officials, all Protestants as a matter of course in those days, with the greatest respect and consideration ; and were aided in their solemn task of preparing the condemned for death by the Rev. Andrew Lube, the parish priest of St. James’s, and his curate, the Rev. William Yore, whose frequent and consolatory visits soon brought to the desired state of mind the poor women who, penetrated with compunction for their crime, accepted the punishment they were to undergo in atonement for it. One of the unhappy young women had lived in Clarence-street, close to the convent in North William-street, and the nuns had often visited at her house. On the morning of the execution Mrs. Aikenhead and Mother Catherine attended, and conducted the poor women to the chapel where the doomed creatures and their consoling visitors remained from nine o’clock till two, the hour appointed for the execution. When the women were led out by the governor, the nuns remained in the chapel, and did not leave it until two hours after the execution. The parting scene had been very trying. The Rev. Mr. Yore went with the condemned to the place of execution —“ the drop at Kilmainham ” on the outer wall of the prison ; and remained with them to the last moment, sending his prayer with theirs up to the throne of mercy. The impression that scene made on the good priest’s mind was never effaced. Long years after he described the horrifying shock he experienced when, emerging from the prison enclosure into the broad light of the outer world, he beheld a sea of faces turned upwards, and thousands of eyes as it seemed fixed on the doomed women, and the priest who stood by their side. At the request of the governor the Sisters of Charity continued their visits to the gaol in favour of the other prisoners, and went regularly on Sundays, and oftener if there were dying cases in the infirmary, until on the introduction of the solitary system they got notice to discontinue their visits to Kilmainham. In the month of May of the same year (1821) Father Kenny returned to Ireland, having rendered highly important services to the American mission, whither he had been sent as visitor by the General of the Society of Jesus. His return was a joy to rich and poor, priests and people ; a great blessing to the Sisters of Charity; and a source of real consolation to the William-street community. He soon visited Mother Catherine, gave the convent a precious relic of the true Cross, and resumed his office of confessor. About this time Mrs. Aikenhead, at Dr. Murray’s desire, gave hospitality to three of the York nuns who were about to found a branch of their Order in Ireland. These were Mrs. Ball, the “ little treasure” alluded to in an already inserted letter from Dr. Murray to Mrs. Coyney, and now a professed nun ; Miss Arthur, and Miss Therry, both novices. The stay of the pious visitors was prolonged HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. l8l to some months, owing to delays in getting possession of the house they had fixed on for a convent. In the interval, however, the two novices were professed for their own institute, in the chapel of the Stanhope-street convent; and finally, when the delay seemed to threaten undue extension, Mrs. Ball and her companions engaged a temporary dwelling at Harold’s-cross, and, having removed thither, waited until the country seat of Mr. Grierson, the King’s printer, should be ready for its transformation from the scene of high living, which the poet Moore knew so well, into the cloistral retreat of Loretto Abbey. Dr. Murray, in a letter to Mrs. Aikenhead after the departure from Stanhope-street of these interesting and grateful guests, speaks of the kindness of the hospitality she showed them. The death of the venerable Archbishop of Dublin on the iith of May, 1823, called Dr. Murray to the archiepiscopal throne of that see. The Sisters of Charity, the congregation so dear to his heart, felt now more than ever assured that the favours and privileges so earnestly desired and so patiently waited for would be obtained from Rome. To the Rev. Walter Meyler, who went to the Eternal City in the month of February, 1824, the copy of the Constitutions drawn up for Propaganda was entrusted. But Rome is proverbially slow in advancing matters of weighty import; and all who were interested so deeply in the confirmation of the new institute had still to wait patiently for some years before their ardent desires were accomplished. From 1819 until 1826 Mrs. Aikenhead resided in Stanhope-street, and, leaving the convent in North William-street and all its works in the very efficient hands of Mother Catherine, devoted herself mainly to the task of training the younger members of the now steadily increasing congregation ; without, however, neglecting the visitation and relief of the poor in their homes, or any of the other extern duties of a Sister of Charity. The industrial branches of the Refuge continued for a few years to be carried on by a secular matron assisted by domestic sisters. Washing and needlework done by the young girls of the Refuge brought in some funds for their support. The ladies of the committee, Mrs. O’Brien and her friends, laboured with unabated zeal to support the establishment ; and when it became necessary to enlarge the house, these devoted friends went through the city and its environs and collected from the charitable the funds that were required. About this period the devotions of the month of May were performed in Stanhope-street, the beautiful exercises of that season in honour of the Blessed Virgin being thus inaugurated in Ireland. Long before any book of the devotions appeared in English, Mrs. Aikenhead had a translation made of an Italian work which treated of the subject, and wrote out with her own hand the directions for the proper observance of the devotions when performed in public. i 82 MARY AIKENHEAD : During this interval the Rev. Mother and some of her community- had an opportunity of enjoying a breath of pure country air. Sister Mary Ignatius Sweetman, who had been about five years in Stanhope- street, began to show signs of great delicacy, and the physicians judged that in entire change of air lay her only chance of recovery. Her father took a house for her at Porterstown, a pretty rural place about three miles from Dublin ; and Dr. Murray gave permission for her going there, with the express understanding that it should not be considered a precedent, since it was only granted in consequence of the congregation not having any house in the country. Another delicate sister went with the invalid, and the Rev. Mother frequently spent a day or two with them. The sojourners had many of the spiritual comforts of a convent. They had Mass in their little oratory every day, and Dr. Murray allowed them the privilege of having the Blessed Sacrament reserved there. After some months, however, all hope of restoration to health had to be given up. Sister M. Ignatius died on the feast of the Archangel Michael, September 29, 1824 ; and the congregation lost in her an edifying and efficient member. Some time before her illness, she had been placed in charge of the Refuge on the dismissal of the matron ; and already she had by dint of great devotion and great labour effected considerable improvements in the working of the institution. The generous spirit in which she went through the fatiguing, wearying routine of the office she filled, was the more admirable as she had been brought up in all the ease and luxury of a refined and affluent home. 1 All this time Mrs. Aikenhead enjoyed the greatest blessing which, in her position as novice mistress, she could have desired—the counsel and the help at every turn of wise and zealous friends. Dr. Murray’s visits were always, as he himself said, at her command whenever they were wanted. Nor did he wait to be sent for. He sometimes even made choice of the convent chapel for the performance of a solemn and interesting function; as for instance when in June, 1825, he conferred on three successive days sub-deacon’s, deacon’s, and priest’s orders on John, the specially beloved brother of Father Robert St. Leger. The last of these three days was the Feast of St. John Francis Regis, a day of particular devotion in the society to which the brothers St. Leger belonged. Father Kenny grudged neither time nor trouble when he had it in his power to render a service to the congregation, either in his own person, or through the instrumentality of those members of the society who were under his obedience. During several years the general •For an interesting account of the Sweetman family, of whom was John S. Sweetman of the United Irish Society, see the 4th Series of Dr. R. R. Madden’s “ United Irishmen.” They have for many generations been remarkable for commercial enterprise, good citizen¬ ship, and strong Catholic feeling. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 183 retreat and the triduum of the congregation were, with Father Kenny’s permission, conducted by Father St. Leger, and this at times when the absence from his college of the Rector of Tullabeg was, to say the least, an inconvenience. “It would be to me,” writes Father Kenny, in a letter to Mrs. Aikenhead, dated Clongowes, October 9, 1822, “ and I am sure to all of us, a subject of consolation to render any service in our power to your houses, which have on our ministry a strong claim for the assistance which you give it, and the dangers to which you are exposed in this most meritorious co-operation.” And in the same letter he refers in a special manner to a little service which the sisters had it then in their power to render the Fathers at their establishment in Hardwick-street. “ When,” he adds, “ you see good Mother Catherine and community say to her and them that I shall always recollect with gratitude her charitable attention to our little chapel; and hope that they will ever remember me and all concerns under my care.” Father Kenny was constantly employed in giving retreats to the secular clergy, to religious communities, and to colleges and confra¬ ternities. His meditations were highly valued, and those who benefitted by his labours oftentimes noted his line of thought and strove to preserve his words ; while some few who had seen the manuscript notes Father Kenny brought to Ireland from the Sicilian novitiate, made imperfect copies of them. These, again, being lent to others, underwent a second and a third transcription, with variations each time. The consequence was that Father Kenny’s meditations, so styled, could hardly be recognised by their author. Mrs. Aikenhead, however, possessed a transcript from notes taken by the sisters which she carefully treasured. Father Kenny said it was the most correct copy he had seen for a long time. In fact on one occasion he was very grateful for a loan of her version of his medita¬ tions ; and on returning the papers to the convent he took the opportunity of intimating that he might again have occasion to solicit the favour of seeing them. Father Kenny’s meditations, though not specially composed for different states of life, had such grace about them that all who followed them felt as if they wondrously met their own particular needs. Mrs. Aikenhead seems to have thought they were intended for religious ; but he does not leave her under that misapprehension. “ You will believe me, I am sure,” he says in a letter of the 26th July, 1826, “that the idea of compiling a retreat for nuns never once entered my head. Had I leisure I should not refuse to do so much for the benefit of coachmen or coalporters, but I would wait a very strong indication of the divine will, before I should choose such a favoured class of God’s servants as the objects of such labour.” But for all that he would sit down and spend an hour of his valuable time in giving the sisters a practical lesson on the way of 184 MARY AIKENHEAD : making their meditation. Mrs. Aikenhead, in referring at a later period to his instructions on this point, said, that the first time she ever heard of such a thing as St. Ignatius’s second method of prayer was, when Father Kenny spent an hour as it were making his prayer aloud, and explaining as he went on. Father St. Leger, anxiously engaged though he was at the head of the establishment at Tullabeg, not only found time to give, as already said, the spiritual exercises, and conduct the triduum at Stanhope-street, but managed to keep up the correspondence begun at Rahan ; and the Rev. Mother had the comfort of knowing that in all doubts, perplexities, and emergencies, she had in the Rector of St. Stanislaus the wisest and kindest of friends to apply to for counsel and help. There can be no doubt that if the younger members of the congregation were taught by an excellent novice mistress, the latter was at the same time under the training of a master spirit. Thus she acquired the knowledge, which so many others have gained that the very best way of succeeding as a teacher is by always continuing a learner oneself. Father Robert’s idea of the kind of young ladies who do not make good Sisters of Charity, may be gathered from a part of his correspondence referring to the proposed admission of a candidate who had the reputation of being a literary character, and who appears to have been a person of educated intelligence and of fascinating manners. Her literary reputation would in all probability have raised no difficulty, had there not been a certain assumption in the lady’s manner, and a high flavour of the pure-literature style in her letters. The Rev. Mother had her misgivings : Father St. Leger’s apprehensions were seriously aroused. “I read Miss -’s letter with pleasure,” he says, “for she writes extremely well. There is a spiritedness and playful buoyancy in her style that is very agreeable. I thought, however, that it was the letter of one who wanted wherewith to fill a sheet of paper. She seemed, I know not how, constrained. I hope you wrote very clearly in the same style as your last. Recommend her to learn how to knit stockings, and while doino- so to reflect on St. James’s doctrine of bridling the tongue. But in earnest I hope you spoke of the essential requisites of a Sister of Charity, and detailed at length what must be her future occupations; that is a series of deeds utterly incompatible with her former pursuits : a line of life that will entirely preclude the continuance of an intercourse, that she, I fear will find it hard to abandon. If Miss-be not a truly mortified religious I can promise you she will be very mortifying to those who are over her, and very injurious to the community at large and to individuals.” Again he writes on the same subject:— “ On Miss --I can only say that in the present stage of the business it is only left for you to tell her that you recommend a serious discussion (with herself) of her own feelings, inclinations, and capabilities. If they bear stamped on them the mark of a heavenly impress, fitting her for vour HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 185 vocation, and if at the same time her will be disposed to obey the divine decree, then your doors and your heart are open to admit her. But beg that she investigate these two matters until she feel a strong moral convic¬ tion of the existence of both in her; then, but not till then, recommend her to take [a] decisive step. I say this because one or two sentiments in her letter seem to require the present admonition.” Many more letters were written by the lady, who also had inter¬ views with Mrs. Aikenhead. But Father St. Leger’s unfavourable impressions were only confirmed by the additional information he received from the Rev. Mother, and by the opinions he heard other persons express who were acquainted with the lady’s intention of entering the congregation. “ Mr.D-he writes, “cannot bear the notion of her joining you. To tell the truth, I do not relish it either. Write, I entreat, in a w r ay to let her see that you would prize more domestic than literary accomplishments, that her most useful preparation for you would be to learn to sew and to knit, if she be not already a proficient in those feminine arts, and that without such accomplishments, literary excellence would be at best a useless incum¬ brance, nay, a mischievous qualification in your vocation. Remind her of your most glorious appellation, ‘ Servants of the poor of Christ,’ and the import of your vow to serve the poor. The arts which immediately tend to this are your proper business, those that do not directly tend to it are at best undesirable. I said directly, because in your present confined numbers all must be the active servants of the poor, immediately engaged in procuring them spiritual and temporal consolation : therefore authoresses, even of good books, can have no place now among you. Oh ! what I dread is, the change of sentiment she may introduce ; and that she may infuse the spirit of esteem for the persuasive words of human wisdom, and not the simple effusions of the heart uuited to God by prayer and mortification. Tell her you want sempstresses not writers. Do write clearly to her—for God’s sake do. If she consent she may be innocent among you ; I never expect much more from her.” Later on he returns to the subject:— “ I am uneasy about Miss-. God grant she may never import into the congregation the contemptible and mischievous vanity of being but indifferent to needlework, contemning the detail of economy, and affecting the high lady. I admired the Marchioness of Wellesley in the Viceregal Lodge measuring the altar for Mr. Glynn, and cutting the lengths with her own scissors for him; and I pitied Miss -- flourishing her fingers in Mrs. G-’s parlour, and affecting to deplore how much she regretted her want of cleverness in those feminine occupations. Write to her on the subject and put the business you have to do in a proper light.” But fearing he might be misunderstood, or supposed to set little value on ady-like refinement of manner and ideas, Father St. Leger takes another occasion to make his views quite clear:— “ I think it necessary,” he says, “ to make a remark on a word in my last letter. I spoke as if you "did not want ladies. By ladies I meant silly women who by way of being ladies would not know how to make a 14 MARY AIKENHEAD : 186 shift, except to tell a lie for the purpose of getting out of a humiliation or the like, and then they could make a very good one. But of all Orders in the Church you, I think, stand most in need of persons formed by education and habit as well as by virtue to the strictest delicacy of sentiment: and this alone can (of human means) prevent you from contracting a certain grossness of idea from the scenes you daily witness.” i Mrs. Aikenhead, who was fond of remarking that accomplishments were no burden, and who never lost her love for what was intrin¬ sically elegant and refined, knew well that certain downright practical qualities were essential in a Sister of Charity : who should have a capacity for business, or at any rate a real love for work. “ Persons,” she once said, “ who think nothing more is necessary for our vocation than being able to walk about and distribute alms, and talk, even well, in the way of instruction, are unfit for us. If I could, no one should be aggregated in future who has not a real spirit of labour ; and if not well endowed with capabilities for account-keeping, economy, and management of household concerns, who will be at least willing to spend herself in assisting to the best of her abilities such as are.” In fine, the union of constant, laborious, practical work with the highest spirituality and the strictest interior discipline was the Mother’s ideal of a Sister of Charity. Doubtless some may have thought that the strictness of the interior discipline would prove too severe a strain for women to bear; and that it was hardly wise to impose on the weaker sex at once the hard toil of active charity, and that subjection of spirit which would appear to come more within the scope of masculine strength of endurance, and to accord better with the spirit of certain religious orders of men. But Mrs. Aikenhead remained unshaken in her opinion that both could be united ; and in this was strongly supported by Father St. Leger, and also by the archbishop, who declared it to be his conviction that “ Sisters of Charity should be more interior than other religious.” The result soon showed that too much was not attempted. The training of the novitiate did not over-strain the delicate and sympa¬ thetic intellectual constitution of women ; but it supplied much of that mental strength and culture, which, it is so often said, a course of logic and rhetoric would develop in the gentler sex. Women of a naturally robust and vivacious intellectual fibre, developed into a noble and beautiful type of character under a system of training which aimed most of all at the quickening of the spiritual life; and women, who had seemed in the world ungifted and unimportant, often surprised their old friends by the capacities they displayed as Sisters 1 In 1834, Father St. Leger was sent on an important mission to India. He returned to Ireland after some years in very delicate health ; and died in 1857. He ranks foremost among the benefactors of the congregation, who will ever remember him as one to whom a deep debt of gratitude is owing. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 187 of Charity. Indeed, when the new congregation came before the world as it did ere long, under various and trying circumstances, many persons wondered how it was that so many very superior women happened to be congregated together. It was observed that the Sisters of Charity had the understanding of men, and were fit for any position in the world. Among those who entered the congregation in the first decade of its existence there was a considerable diversity of age and character. Various also were the circumstances of the previous life of those first Sisters of Charity. It was not unusual for members of the same family to hear the call to religious life and desire to wear the same habit. There were sisters in the community of the name of Lynch, Clynch, Chamberlain, Holmes, O’Reilly, and Aikenhead : for the Rev. Mother’s gentle sister Anne, after the marriage of their sister Margaret to Dr. Hickson of Killarney, forsook the world and entered the novitiate in Stanhope-street. A few were young, not over twenty years of age ; but most of the first members of the congregation had reached a much more mature age ; and some were widows. Among the latter was Mrs. Corbally, who on an occasion was lovingly described by one of the sisterhood as, “a great, genuine, good little soul; always gay and most devoted ; and who did great things for the House of Refuge.” Mrs. Coleman, also a widow, destined to hold for very many years an important position in the congregation, was one of the early band of Sisters of Charity. She was about thirty-two years of age when she entered, full of energy and intellect, and most agreeable in appearance and manner. She was born in the troubled times that preceded ’98. Her father, a gentleman-farmer in Meath or Louth, more patriotic than prudent, was suspected of disaffection to the government. On the very night that his little daughter was to come into the world, the house was surrounded by a troop of armed men, whose heavy footsteps, presently heard on the stairs, gave the alarm to the inmates, who hurried away “ the poor mistress ” under cover of the darkness to an uninhabited hut sometimes used by the herd. She gave up all for lost, and resigned herself to die, knowing well that no human assistance awaited her there in the hour of her utmost need. Her piety was sincere, her faith was strong, and she had an ardent devotion to the Blessed Virgin. As her husband forced open the door, and led her into the dark hut, she heard a voice distinctly .say: “ Do not fear, Mary, I will protect you and your child while at the same time a bright light filled the place. Then and there, under its influence the child was born. All appears to have gone well after that. The little girl grew up, and was married early to a gentle¬ man in good circumstances living in Drogheda. After a few years of married life he died. It was not long until religious life attracted the 188 MARY AIKENHEAD : widow. She and her great friend Miss Mary Ennis, then a fine young woman, handsome and gifted, felt the call of grace about the same time, and resolved to enter the newly-instituted congregation, of which they both became highly-valued members. They were destined to run their race for half a century together : not in the same place, but in a nearly similar career. Mrs. Coleman and Miss Ennis were not the only pair in the congregation, who, having been bosom friends in the world, became Sisters of Charity at this early period, and lived and died under the same obedience, if not actually under the same convent roof. Anne Aikenhead, for instance, had not been long in the convent when her dear friend and cousin, Mary Hennessy, followed her. This lady was a great acquisition to the new institute, and especially to its schools : for she was gifted with a clear understanding, a methodical mind, and an immense power of work. She had received an excellent education at the Ursuline convent ; and being fond of reading, and constantly with her relatives, Mr. James Roche and his family, she continued to lay in a store of information during the period that succeeded her school life. At the same time active charity had its attractions for her, and she loved to teach and help the poor. Once being in delicate health she was ordered for change of air to Cove (now Queenstown), which was then a mere hamlet principally inhabited by fishermen and their families. It was not long until she remarked that the mending of the nets caused much trouble and expense to the men ; and she saw at once that the work could very well be done by the girls of the village. Thereupon she made a great netting-needle herself, and taught some of the children to mend their fathers’ nets. She instructed others in the art of lace making, and had the satisfac¬ tion of knowing in after years that several of her pupils attained to great proficiency in this kind of work and were enabled to earn considerable sums by their tasteful industry. For a few years she went much into society with her sister Mrs- Coxon ; and often spent some time in London at the house of her uncle, Colonel Hennessy. Altogether her life was varied and she thoroughly enjoyed it. How it was that her thoughts first turned to religious life we cannot tell; but when she made up her mind to try her vocation in a convent, the resolve did not seem to cause her the painful struggle which, under similar circumstances, others have had to encounter. She had been staying on a visit with Mrs. O’Brien, and entered the noviceship from that lady’s house, in the highest spirits with herself and the world in general. From the very first she excelled in everything she was put to, and took extreme pains to improve herself. Even in what might be called her worldly days she had been accustomed to instruct catechism classes in the chapels ; but on entering religion she set about cultivating her talent for HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 189 teaching in right earnest, and soon reached a high proficiency in an art essentially useful in the congregation she had joined. We have mentioned but a few of the early members of Mrs. Aikenhead’s community, choosing those who may be considered types of different classes, and whose names are most likely to reappear in our history. CHAPTER V. CORK REVISITED—CONVENT ESTABLISHED—GARDINER-STREET SCHOOLS—SAND YMOUNT. EANWHILE Mary Aikenhead had not been forgotten in Cork, nor had its people ceased to inquire with vivid interest concerning the progress of the great work she was engaged in organising. She whs now about to be recalled to her native city to found there a convent of Sisters of Charity, and so to realise her own beautiful early dream. The going forth with tears had then been after all only the first step on the round-about road by which she was to return with joyfulness carrying her sheaves. During her stay at York, Mr. Timothy Mahony, a member of a highly respectable and eminently charitable family, died, leaving, among other bequests to the poor of Cork, a sum of money for the foundation of a convent of the Sisters of Charity in the city. According to his original idea this good man set aside a child's portion for the nuns ; that sum was subsequently increased by the falling in of a portion of the fortune of one of his children who had died ; and thus at the time of his decease, which occurred while Mrs. Aikenhead was at York, the sum total he bequeathed to her amounted t°^3,3 0 °. This was invested and left to accumulate until the time should come when the work could be commenced: the testator’s brother, Mr. Martin Mahony, kindly transacting whatever business arose in connection with the trust. Dr. Murphy, who had been appointed to the see of Cork soon after the death of Dr. Moylan, 1 was very anxious that the foundation should be made; but it was impossible to do so while the congregation was only in the beginning of its work, and still limited in number. However, in the year 1826, Dr. Murphy having urgently renewed his request that a community of sisters should be sent to Cork, the arch¬ bishop directed the necessary arrangements to be made : and in the 1 Dr. Moylan died on the 10th of February, 1815, aged eighty years. He was buried in the cathedral he had erected on the site of the old “ bishop’s chapelMr. James Roche wrote his epitaph ; and a handsome monument by the Italian artist, Turnerelli, was erected to his memory in the sacred edifice. 190 MARY AIKENHEAD : month of September of that year, Dr. Murphy came to Dublin for the purpose of accompanying to Cork Mrs. Aikenhead and Sister Mary Regis Teeling, who were to precede the regular colony and to reside in the bishop’s house until the tenement destined for the sisters should be ready for their reception. On the 25th of September, the travellers arrived at their destina¬ tion, and Mary Aikenhead in the still glow of an autumn evening saw again, as the carriage drove into the city, all the familiar features of her birthplace : the quays, the bridge, the glancing river, Shandon steeple upon the heights. She recognised the bright kindly faces, and heard, not without emotion, the soft southern Corkonian brogue. There were old friends among the rich and poor who longed to see her face again ; but John Rorke, in whose cottage her cradle had been rocked, resolved that none should get before him with their greeting. He was determined to have the first word with ‘'Miss Mary,” and he went to the bishop’s house, and stood in the hall ready to receive her. When the carriage drew up, and the hall-door opened, the first thing she saw on alighting was the face of her childhood’s friend. Time, and place, and the Rev. Motherhood were all forgotten in a moment. “ O Daddy John !” she cried; and throwing her arms round his neck she kissed her dear old foster father; while the bishop’s servant, who stood by, with his best manners on, and wholly unprepared for this scene, lifted up his hands in amazement to see the greeting which took place between Daddy John and the great “Mother Abbess” from Dublin. The bishop’s house had not much of the atmosphere of a convent about it, but it had a literary and learned air, which was the next best thing. It was not merely provided with a library : it was a library in itself from top to bottom. Mrs. Aikenhead, who had a kindly regard even for the outside of books, could not but enjoy the close companion¬ ship of the ancient folios piled on the lobbies; the regiments of calf and vellum-bound octavos marshalled on shelves in every available space; the Irish manuscripts stored in cases ; and the bibliographical riches that adorned the walls, and strewed the tables of every room in the mansion. 1 The house which was intended for the sisters’ habitation—no one can now tell why it was chosen—stood close by the cathedral, in the vicinity of the presbytery, and surrounded by lanes and the crowded dwellings of the poor. It was no easy matter to get the domicile into 1 The German traveller Kohl gives an amusing description of Dr. Murphy’s house. Not only, he says, are the bishop’s sitting-rooms and dining-rooms filled with books, but even in his bedrooms every spare place is similarly occupied. His attendants, and even his maid¬ servants sleep in little libraries. The walls of his stair-case and the corridors of his rooms, are filled with books up to the very garrets. His house contains the largest collection of books in Ireland, and is rich in costly and interesting works.—“ Travels in Ireland.” HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. igi order. It was of no particular style of architecture; but was high, narrow, crooked, with ladder-like stairs, a questionable roof, and walls which all the whitewash in the world could not coax into looking secure. There was no garden attached to this tenement, nor was there even a good yard. People looked at it in passing by and called it a gazebo, a rattle-trap, a castle-rack rent. The Sisters of Charity, not liking to give a hard name even to a tumble-down pile of this kind, called it, among themselves, “ Cork Castle." The Rev. Mother’s heart must have sunk at the thought of this beingr a convent. But she was never the first to see a lion in the way: it was well to make a beginning under any circumstances, and surely this was to be only a temporary settlement. While the preparations in the “ Castle ” were still going on, Mrs. Aikenhead and Mrs. Teeling did not travel much outside the precincts of the neighbouring lanes, unless when some kind friend came and took them in a carriage elsewhere. It was considered better not to begin the regular visitation of the sick until the work should be formally inaugurated on the arrival of the community from Dublin. But this did not prevent Mrs. Aikenhead going to see some of her dear old people, when she could do so without having to walk through the streets, where the sight of a nun would have caused no small astonishment. One day, passing along Pope’s-quay, she said to her companion, pointing to one of the houses : “ Do you know how I went to my last party in that house ?—In a boat, my dear !” Of course an early visit was paid to Mary Rorke, whose dwelling was now in Peacock-lane. Fifty years after this visit of the Rev. Mother to her nurse, the details were related in full by Mary Rorke’s granddaughter, who was a child when the event took place. The little girl had met with an accident, having been badly burned, and was at her grandmother’s ; when, suddenly one day she saw a carriage drive into the lane and stop at the door —“ and a lovely nun get out, accompanied by another nun and a priest; and the first nun went over to the granny and kissed her, and there was great joy : for it was Miss Mary come from Dublin ! And there was another old woman in the room at the time, and the granny said : “ Don’t you remember Mary Lyons, your own kitchen-maid ?” and Miss Mary put out her hand to her; but the old woman w r as not for shaking hands, because she was after dressing the wounds ; but Miss Mary insisted.” The child never afterwards forgot that scene, nor the beautiful-looking woman whom the granny called “ Miss Mary.” After six weeks had elapsed the convent was ready, and the com¬ munity who were to be established in it left Dublin for Cork. These were Sister Mary de Sales Clinch, Sister Mary Aloysius Clinch, Sister Mary Austin Quan, and Sister Mary Anne Ignatius Aikenhead. The travellers set out on the morning of the 3rd of November under the 192 MARY AIKENHEAD : escort of Father Charles Aylmer of the Society of Jesus, who was going to preach the Jubilee in Cork ; and on the evening of the second day’s journey, namely, the 4th of November, they arrived in the city, where the bishop had vehicles to meet them at the coach office, and convey them to his hospitable mansion. There they dined with his Lordship, in company with the clergyman of the parish who had been invited to meet them. In the evening the six nuns took possession of the new convent. Next morning, Sunday, the sisters, having assisted at the Bishop’s Mass at the cathedral, breakfasted with his Lordship, Dr. Murphy, and afterwards drove, accompanied by his Lordship and Father Aylmer, to Blackrock, where they spent the day with the Ursuline nuns. What a joy it was, this meeting of old friends ! what a pleasure to talk over past times, give thanks together for present blessings, and look forward to the realisation at a no distant future of long-cherished hopes ! It was delightful to Mrs. Aikenhead to find the dear Ursulines no longer in an obscure crowded part of the city, but in a handsome country seat on the banks of the Lee, with quiet surroundings for the nuns, and ample pleasure-grounds for the pupils of their largely-frequented school to roam through freely. The nuns had removed with their numerous charge some three or four years before to this desirable residence. The centre part of the group of convent buildings, a fine mansion, had once been the country-seat of the unfortunate Henry Sheares. Over the hall-door, some time after the nuns had taken possession, a date was discovered on the removal of a coat of paint or plaster, which strangely enough proved to be 1771, the very year in which the Ursulines—a contraband freight—were landed on the banks of the Lee from France. Mrs. Aikenhead found the pious friends of her youth twelve years older certainly, but still the sweet, bright, beautiful characters she had always known them. There was Mother Borgia MacCarthy, still exercising the same powerful unconscious fascination which had held so many in the right way and drawn so many to God. And there was Mother Louis Moylan, now superioress, as she had already often been. In all Mary Aikenhead’s twelve years’ experience of religious life she had met no more beautiful character than this venerable mother of the Ursulines, whose gentle maternal ways had attracted her childish affection ; whose quick and helpful sympathy had made her a friend in girlhood; and whose noble qualities of heart and soul now drew still closer to her the Sister of Charity’s maturer nature. 1 Many other valued friends still 1 The venerable and well-beloved Mother Louis Moylan survived till 1842, when she died at the age of ninety years, having spent seventy-two in religion. When Mrs. Aikenhead heard of her death she cried bitterly. A dear friend, a future Ursuline, seeing her grief, expressed some surprise. “Did you think,” said the Rev. Mother, “that I left my heart behind me when I put on the habit ?” On parting with the same friend she told her that next to the happiness of seeing her a Sister of Charity, was that of knowing she would be an Ursuline. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 193 survived in the community, and many younger members who had of late years joined the daughters of St. Ursula, were now to be intro¬ duced to the welcome and deeply interested visitors. 1 In truth this 2 Among the lately professed Ursulines was Sister Augustine (Eliza Anster), a fervent religious and a highly accomplished woman. These qualities were certainly far from singular in that edifying and gifted community, and our reason for mentioning her here is that her portrait has been sketched by a loving and masterly hand. Having been sent at an early age to the Ursuline school, she became greatly attached to the nuns, and looked forward to the happiness of entering the convent at some future day. This resolve was not approved of by her friends, and in company with her sister she was taken to France and confided to the care of an aunt, who, after some time, went with her daughter and her nieces to reside at the convent of Les Dames Anglaises in the rue des Fosses-Saint-Victor at Paris : an educational establishment of high repute in which were several English and Irish girls, and many of the daughters of the French noblesse. Among the French girls was Aurore Dupin—an enfant terrible by her own acknowledgment during the first year of her school life, but a more satisfactory pupil as time went on. Although inheriting a wild strain of character, with a passionate love of liberty, and manifesting much of the waywardness of genius, the little Aurore learned to love the nuns, looked on her convent home as an earthly paradise, and ended by cherishing a desire to become a religious in the house of the Dames Anglaises. Between her and Eliza Anster a strong friendship sprang up. Recalling some thirty years later those convent days, which she says were the happiest days of her whole life, Aurore described her friend’s incomparable beauty :—the exquisite Greek outline of her features, her fair complexion, sweet and penetrating eyes, beautiful chestnut hair; the noble expression of her countenance, her fine figure and dignified bearing. “From her earliest years,” continues Aurore, “ all the strength of her vigorous nature had been turned to devotion. She came to us holy, as I have always known her, firm in her resolve to become a religious, and cherishing in her heart one exclusive and absorbing affection—the remembrance of a nun in her Irish convent, Sister Mary Borgia de Chantal (Mrs. Mac Carthy ?), who had always encouraged her vocation, and whom she afterwards rejoined when she took the veil. The most precious token of friendship she ever bestowed on me was a little reliquary which I have always kept on my mantelpiece, and which had been given to her by this nun. I read even now on the reverse : M. de Chantal to E., 1816. She prized this gift so much that she made me promise never to part with it, and I have kept my word. It has followed me whithersoever I went. Once, on a journey, the glass was broken and the relic was lost, but the medallion remained intact, and the reliquary itself has become the relic for me. This beautiful Eliza was the first in every class, the best pianist in the convent, the one who did everything better than anyone else, because she brought to her studies in an equal proportion great natural talent and an indomitable will. She did all this with the intention of preparing herself for educating the young Irish girls who should one day be confided to her charge in Cork ; for she was as much bent on her Cork convent as I was on mine of the Dames Anglaises. She never conceived it possible that she could be a nun in any other house, and her vocation was none the less true, since she perse¬ vered in it with joy.I learned that Eliza had left the convent (Fosses-Saint-Victor), that she mixed much in the world, that she resigned herself to this life of ball going and amusement, but that she had never for a moment wavered in her resolution. She wrote to me that she accepted the trial which her family inflicted on her, but that she felt every day more and more certain of her vocation, and that perhaps she and I should one day meet in Cork as members of the same community, if the fact of my French birth should prove an insuperable bar to my entrance into the English convent at Paris.” Time sped on. Eliza reached her haven of rest. Aurore wandered into paths as divergent as could possibly be imagined. They never met again, but correspondence did not altogether cease between them. Aurore remembered her convent school-days with a tenderness that is supremely affecting ; while Sister Augustine never relinquished the hope that her old friend would at length return to the sheepfold she had forsaken, and find safety and happiness in the religion she had outraged in her conduct and denied in audacious words. Shortly before her death, which happened a few years ago, Mrs. Anster received a 194 MARY AIKENHEAD : was a memorable day for each community, and it was agreed that the recollection of it should be made perpetual by a devout union of prayers and good works. On the 13th of November, the Blessed Sacrament was deposited in the little oratory of the convent by the bishop. The founda¬ tion of the Cork house dates from that day, the festival of St. Stanislaus. The sisters received some very useful presents for their new establishment. Mrs. Moylan sent them from Blackrock a simple timber altar and a well-carved oak tabernacle : the first convent tabernacle brought to Ireland on the restoration of religious establish¬ ments ; Mrs. Waters of the Presentation Convent gave them an oil painting of the Blessed Virgin; Father Gavan of the Order of Preachers, who was appointed their confessor, presented a picture of the Virgin and Child for an altar-piece ; Mrs. Bullen sent a carpet for the oratory; Mr. Augustus MacSweeny a handsome pair of cruets for the altar ; Mr. Frank Hynes and Mr. and Mrs. Martin Mahony a variety of very useful articles. On the 19th November, the Feast of St. Elizabeth of Thuringia, the sisters commenced visiting the poor in the north parish, to whose abodes they were, for some days, conducted by the parochial clergy. Typhus fever raged in Cork at this time ; the visitation became there¬ fore extremely onerous; and the friends of the sisters were greatly concerned, seeing how difficult and dangerous was the duty which they were now called to fulfil. The officers of health often went to the abodes of the fever-stricken poor, and broke some panes of glass to give ventilation before the sisters arrived on their charitable rounds. Fever in Ireland, not only at that time but for many a year before and for many a year after, was more like a plague than anything else. The want of sufficient general sanitary regulation and of medical attendance; the horrible misery of the poor, and the indescribable wretchedness of their dwellings, rendered the obscure part of the towns a hot-bed of infection. The disease may not have been actually contagious, but under these lamentable conditions it was epidemic. There was no great difference except in terms ; attendance on fever cases was highly dangerous to doctors, priests, nuns, and all generally. The delight of the people may be imagined when the Sisters of Charity first went amongst them. They regarded them with wonder and letter from the friend of her youth, expressing the old affection, but ignoring the momentous questions on which her correspondent had sought to engage her. Passing strange it is, this silver thread running through, and now and then for an instant linking together, these two lives. Sister Augustine of the Ursulines followed from youth to age her heaven-directed path in blissful obscurity, leaving behind her no remembrance that the great world cares to cherish. The other— George Sand —filled the nations with her name, and “ for nearly half a century exercised an intellectual supremacy, such as no other woman has ever enjoyed.” But her labour served no good cause, and her fame can only make the angels weep. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 195 “ Walking admiration, and gave them various names such as the Nuns,” the “ Black Ladies,” the “ Daughters of God. In the evenings the sisters were engaged in directing tickets for soup, bread, and coals, which were given by the officers of health for the relief of convalescent patients. They were also entrusted with the distribution of a large sum which had been left by Mr. Timothy Mahony for procuring food, clothing, &c., for the destitute room- keepers of the north parish at Christmas, Easter, and Pentecost. This charity had hitherto been distributed by the clergy of the parish, who now kindly placed it at the disposal of the sisters : the latter of course engaging to adhere to the conditions specified by the benevolent donor. The instruction of the sick in the North Infirmary was committed to the sisters ; and at the bishop’s request they took charge of the religious instruction of the penitents in St. Mary Magdalen s Asylum. These engagements certainly afforded as much work as could well be accomplished by a small community at the beginning of their career. Mrs. Aikenhead having set the house in order and organised the work, returned early in 1827 to Dublin, leaving Mrs. Teeling as rectress, and the four other nuns who had come to Cork the previous November under her jurisdiction. But a sore trial awaited the young community. Sister Mary Aloysius Clinch was seized with, typhus fever and continued ill for twenty-one days before the crisis came. She was not convalescent when Sister Mary Ignatius Aikenhead caught the same disease, which caused a relapse to the first patient. The rectress, with the assistance of a nurse, attended the sick sisters, and the visitation of the poor devolved on the other two, who fre¬ quently after having been out all day, had to give up a part of their night’s rest to relieve the rectress and the nurse. During this season of distress and embarrassment the sisters received proofs innumerable of the kindness and affection of friends and neighbours. Dr. Bullen and his son, Dr. Denis Bullen, were untiring in their professional attend¬ ance. The younger doctor knowing that the sisters were strangers, and had not messengers at their command, often went himself to the chemists to get the medicines he had ordered for the patients, and would call at the market and order whatever had been prescribed as regimen. These excellent men seemed to think they could never do enough for their friend Mary Aikenhead and her community. Their attendance was gratuitous, and whatever they ordered as medicine or nourishment was left at the convent door free of cost to the nuns. Mrs. Bullen and Mrs. Martin Mahony sent wine and other requisites , and Miss Teresa MacSweeny supplied the convent wdth sheets, as the store of linen was not sufficient for such an emergency. When the sisters were recovering these ladies sent their vehicles that the invalids might drive out and take the air; and Mrs. Mahony’s garden was at 196 MARY AIKENHEAD : their service as soon as they could take walking exercise. These were no small acts of kindness at a time when fever was of so virulent a nature and people were so apprehensive of contagion. The first sister who got ill recovered, although she had had a relapse ; the second, Sister M. I. Aikenhead, fell into consumption, and having been recalled to Dublin, died in Stanhope-street about eighteen months later on. The community lost in her a very sweet and amiable member. Though she had lived in the world she imbibed none of its spirit. She was wonderfully innocent. About a year before this gentle Sister of Charity went to God, the congregation lost Sister Mary Stanislaus Mahony, a daughter of the founder of the Cork house, Mr. Timothy Mahony. She entered the noviceship in the 20th year of her age. Shortly after she had received the habit she fell into consumption, and died after six months, having by privilege made her vows. The work of the Cork community rapidly increased. In addition to the institutions on their list they had now to visit the South Infirmary and another hospital. They taught catechism in the cathedral, and opened an evening class for children preparing for first communion. Adults, too, were constantly sent to them by the clergy for instruction ; and as the cathedral was the church in which the soldiers of the garrison attended Mass and received the Sacraments, numbers of the brave fellows, found ignorant of the Christian doctrine, were, without more ado, sent next door to the nuns to be instructed in their religion and prepared for confession and communion. The men were quite pleased with their visits and their lessons. After a while some of their Protestant comrades came with them, and asked to be allowed to sit in the class with the Catholic men. The nuns made no objection ; and the result of this little military mission was that several non-Catholics were received into the Church, many of each class were confirmed, and some were married—the ceremony taking place in the oratory of the convent. The community was now increased by the arrival of Sister Mary de Chantal Coleman, and a lay-sister. Welcome as the auxiliaries were, their appearance in “ Cork Castle ” caused some little embarrass¬ ment, for the establishment was barely provided with necessaries for those who were already its inmates. Fortunately some blankets which had been purchased for the poor were not yet distributed, and these being doubled and laid on the floor supplied a bed for one; while a shake-down of some other kind was contrived for her companion. But this was a trifle. The Sisters of Charity were not too particular. They could put up with a great deal of inconvenience, even while going through an immense amount of anxious toil. Much good was done in Cork during the Jubilee, which was preached in the city in 1827. Father Aylmer and Father Esmonde, HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 197 both of the Society of Jesus, preached to overwhelming crowds. The confessionals were thronged each day from five o’clock in the morning; and the people seemed to think of nothing but of repenting, and stirring- up their faith. Father Esmonde said Mass daily at the convent and heard confessions in the oratory. From morning till night the sisters were kept busy preparing the people for the sacraments. In the month of July, 1828, Mrs. Aikenhead paid a short visit to Cork. She found the community working at high pressure, and with more calls on their ministrations than they could possibly respond to. Nor did she find them without difficulties to contend against, and inconveniences to put up with. The deficiencies of “ Cork Castle” were more seriously felt every day, and the nuns had not the spiritual advantages which would have compensated for their privations. They could not afford a chaplain, and consequently had Mass but rarely in the convent. This would not have involved much inconvenience as the cathedral was just opposite, had they been able to count on Mass at a regular hour, but it frequently happened that after waiting more than an hour in the sacred edifice it would be announced to them that there could be no Mass until 10 o’clock. This spiritual destitution lasted for nearly four years, at the end of which time the Rev. John Crowe, a young priest recently ordained, came to offer to give them daily Mass in their little oratory, until he should receive his appoint¬ ment. For nearly two years he was their self-appointed chaplain, attending gratuitously with the utmost regularity. Not only did the sisters feel seriously from time to time the difficulty of making the two ends meet in the administration of their own financial and domestic affairs, but the purse of the poor was sometimes left empty in their hands, and they were obliged to enter the abodes of misery without the means of giving even a meal to the starving. This was perhaps the hardest part of their duty, but they had been taught to perform it unflinchingly. Mrs. Aikenhead never expected that her children were to go about like Ladies Bountiful distributing freely from ample stores. They were to travel on their daily rounds, teaching and consoling the poor, and, when they had the means, relieving their temporal distress. They were to share abjection and privation where they were powerless to help. "Sisters of Charity,” she once said, " are not to gain heaven without suffering with, as well as for, the poor.” But even at the worst of times they were never left without striking evidences of the Providence that watched over them. On one occa¬ sion the superior and another sister set out on their visitation with only three-halfpence in their pocket. In downright anguish of mind they went to innumerable sick and destitute people, giving them nothing but kind words and promises and prayers. At length they reached a house where a family were sheltering who had been evicted MARY AIKENHEAD : 198 from their little holding. The father was lying sick unto death with his starving children around him. The little ones came peeping into the nuns’ baskets hoping for something. The superior gathered them round her and prayed, and told them she had come unprepared and had given away all she had, but that she would return in the morning and bring them food. She requested the poor father to have his family join in prayer that some source of relief might be opened for them and for many other sufferers in equal need. As she went out she told her companion with tears that this was the first time she felt her vow of poverty almost too heavy; but that she hoped in God. That night the poor family offered up the Rosary for the intention named, and in the morning help came in the form of a note for £10, enclosed in a letter with the superscription: “For the poor of Christ.” This proved to be but the first of a series of gifts from an anonymous donor, whose benefactions amounted to a regular annual income of £100 for thirty years. Again, in 1831, typhus fever of a very malignant kind visited the convent. Sister Mary Austin Quan was first attacked ; and while she was slowly recovering, Sister Margaret Joseph Segrave, who had lately come from Dublin, was seized. Kind friends and neighbours once more came to the assistance of the sorely-tried community, and hastened, by their constant and thoughtful attentions, the convalescence of the patients. This long illness left but two of the sisters free to carry on the visitation of the sick-poor during a severe winter season. In the spring of 1832, Mrs. Teeling was recalled to Dublin to assist in the novitiate ; but her health broke down before the end of the year, and she survived only a few years. Mrs. Coleman took the superior’s place in Cork, first as locum tenens ) and afterwards as rectress ; and from that date her name became indissolubly associated with the Cork community of the Sisters of Charity in all their trials and all their works of benediction. Mrs. Aikenhead on her return from Cork early in 1827, resumed her office of novice mistress, and with the exception of short occa¬ sional absences, remained in Stanhope-street until 1831. During that interval, however, some important changes took place. The arch¬ bishop had long been very anxious for the establishment of free schools on an extensive scale in the metropolitan parish, and Mrs. Aikenhead was likewise most desirous of undertaking this work. Already it had become evident that the house in North William-street was unsuitable for a convent of Sisters of Charity. The accommodation was not good, the situation was damp and unwholesome, and the schools w r ere so small that they scarcely afforded room for one hundred children. Moreover, the care of an orphanage interfered with the all-important duty of the sick mission. In 1827, a community of Carmelites offered HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 199 to take the place and the orphanage off Mrs. Aikenhead’s hands. The proposal was gladly accepted; for it was made at an opportune moment, just as the archbishop’s great wish and the Rev. Mother’s was about to be realised by the erection of a convent and schools in Upper Gardiner-street. The large sum of money required for this undertaking had been supplied in an unexpected way. The Archbishop of Cashel, Dr. Everard, dying in 1821, bequeathed to his dear friend Dr. Murray a sum of ^4,000 to be employed in the erection of poor-schools in his parish, but with the power of using the interest during his life if he so pleased. This sum, with the interest accruing on it, Dr. Murray was resolved to expend at once on the erection of a convent and schools for the Sisters of Charity, whose foundation the testator had from the beginning greatly aided by his advice and encouragement. Many difficulties had to be surmounted before a suitable site was obtained, and the building- was not commenced until 1827. 1 Before much progress had been made the Carmelites became anxious to have possession of the premises in North William-street; and Mrs. Aikenhead took a house on Summer-hill, where she located the sisters until their new home should be ready for their reception. About this time the archbishop received news which showed that the affairs of the congregation were not neglected in Rome. The welcome intelligence was communicated in a letter to his Grace, who sent the following extract from its pages to gladden the Rev. Mother’s heart:— “The Pope has appointed a select congress of Cardinals, four in number, with Monsgr. Caprano, to revise the Rules of the Sisters of Charity. I have now no further apprehension on that score. Many other matters of a very urgent nature, and of great moment, such as the ecclesiastical affairs of Belgium, may retard our affair for a couple of months longer, but the con¬ firmation so long wished for maybe reckoned upon as certain.” While the new buildings were being raised in Gardiner-street, the sisters destined for the schools were engaged in preparing for the task that lay before them. Sister Mary XaVier Hennessy, as might be expected, was appointed to an onerous post in the depart¬ ment of instruction. She was desired to visit all the female poor schools in the city and its neighbourhood, and discover if possible a well-organised system which might be adopted in the new institution. The tour of investigation was not very successful, but useful hints were obtained from olher people’s experience, and something like a system was developed in Sister Mary Xavier’s mind, and laid past for future application. The school which seemed to come the nearest to her 1 About two years later Father Kenny began to build on an adjoining plot of ground the Church of St. Francis Xavier. 200 MARY AIKENHEAD : requirements was one in Meath-street containing four hundred children, and kept by a member of the Society of Friends ; and it was agreed that when the Gardiner-street schools were opened, a teacher from the staff of the good Quakeress should be engaged for six months. At length the buildings were finished. On the feast of St. Bridget, February ist, 1830, the archbishop blessed the new convent under the title of Our Lady of the Assumption ; Mother Catherine and her com¬ munity removed thither from Summer-hill; and the Free Schools were opened. The Meath-street system got a fair trial, but it turned out to have only two points that could be considered faultless, namely, the classification of the children, and the needle-work regulations. Some of the evolutions that were practised in the school-room were simply absurd. For instance, while the class-monitresses were teach¬ ing, four others spent the entire day walking from corner to corner of the room, crossing each other like policemen on their beat. This marching corps were supposed to maintain order and to see that the teaching staff did their duty. So monotonous and distasteful was this service to the children, that when they met in their beat they relieved themselves by laughing and talking ; and the task of keeping them in order turned out more laborious than the management of the rest of the school. There were difficulties, too, arising from the previous circumstances of the children which would have made it hard, even under the best possible system, for the nuns to get a large school quickly into order. Owing to the want of Catholic schools some of the young people had been in the habit of frequenting sectarian institutions, to which their parents sent them with a permission to partake freely of the morning repast that was provided as an encouragement to punctual attend¬ ance ; but with a caution against the religious instruction : the former might be taken without scruple, the latter not without a grain of salt. This produced in the children’s minds a feeling of contempt for their teachers, or at any rate a general idea that schoolmistresses were to be distrusted. Not being able to distinguish their friends, the little mob no sooner made their appearance in the Gardiner-street schools than they reduced their principles to practice, and encouraged one another in noisy and disrespectful conduct. In fact Mrs. Hennessy’s first attempt at being a schoolmistress turned out, in spite of her laboured preparation, a total failure. The school-room became in a short time a scene of indescribable uproar and confusion, and she felt herself utterly powerless to control or to teach the children. Great was the perplexity of the nuns. They felt there was no help except in humble patience and in the trust that aid would be sent them from above. Kind Providence came to their assistance by HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 201 bringing them into acquaintance with the Brothers of the Christian Schools who had been recently introduced into Ireland by Mr. Edmund Rice of Waterford, and who were now conducting schools in Hanover- street, on the south side of the city. The sisters from Gardiner-street being in the habit of visiting the female wards of the Jervis-street Hospital, generally met there on Sundays the Christian Brothers who attended the male wards. Mrs. Hennessy determined on accosting Mr. Rice and begging him to help the Sisters of Charity in their difficulty. She did so on two occasions, but each time he turned from her appearing to suppose she must be jesting. At last, seeing she was in sober earnest, he listened to her story of the school troubles. “Well,” said he in reply, “ I’ll send you Brother Duggan.” “ Oh !” exclaimed Mrs. Hennessy, “ is it that little boy?” “Little boy!” rejoined Mr. Rice : “ I wish I had fifty such little boys” The next thing to be considered was when Brother Duggan could come ; for the well-filled schools in Hanover-street kept every hand busy; and Saturday, the only day on which there was no school, was needed to rest the teachers and prepare them for the labours of the following week. However, the much-needed rest was kindly relin¬ quished, and it was arranged that Saturdays should be devoted to the sisters’ schools, until they should be brought into something like order. On the following Saturday, therefore, Brother Duggan appeared in the midst of a crowded room full of unruly children. He had to shout and whistle before he could command silence. At first he took on himself the entire management of the school. By degrees he discontinued inflicting punishment himself, merely pointing out the guilty parties to the sisters and leaving them to deal with the delin¬ quents. By degrees also he forbore assuming any authority before the sisters, so as to leave the children entirely dependent on them. In the course of a few months perfect order reigned in the schools. Besides making these Saturday visits, Mr. Duggan came in the evenings to teach arithmetic to the sisters, whom he ranged round him like children and lectured on each rule until he found it was perfectly understood. “Our school system,” say the Annals of the congregation, “is the Bell and Lancastrian organised by the Christian Brothers, and modelled for female schools by our sisters. Our 'School Government Book ’ was compiled from that of the Christian Brothers by Sister Mary Xavier, to which she added the method of lecturing on reading, writing, and arithmetic, from recollection of Brother Duggan’s hints on the subject. Experience proves our system good, as the children are induced to love their lessons from the attractive manner in which they are given, and religion being the basis of every part of their education, the mind is formed to piety which stands to them in after life. The system has also the advantage of a well-organised arrange¬ ment for teaching needlework ; it is entirely Mrs. Lancaster’s.” 15 202 MARY AIKENHEAD : Mrs. Hennessy in truth only wanted to be set on the right road and to get a fair start. Once she had got a practical lesson, and learned how to conquer and govern and educate the children, there was no longer any serious difficulty in her way. For the rest of her life she was such a finished schoolmistress that one would have thought she had never been anything else. The schools in Gardiner-street were just getting into good working order when an application was made to the Rev. Mother by Mrs. Barbara Verscoyle for a small community to superintend a poor school which she had erected at Sandy mount with £500 bequeathed for that purpose by the late Earl of Fitzwilliam. Mrs. Verscoyle kindly under¬ took to build the convent, and to settle upon it about £1,200, the interest of which, as it was specially named for annual Masses, was to go towards the payment of the chaplain. On the 16th of August, 1831, Mrs. Aikenhead and four sisters took possession of the convent. The house was very small, and the school arrangements were incom¬ plete. The chapel was to be open to the public, yet no provision had been made in the way of choir for the nuns, and they had to hear Mass in the parlour which opened on the sanctuary. Notwithstanding these drawbacks, the getting of the house at that moment was a great blessing. Over exertion of body and mind had told on Mrs. Aikenhead’s health. For some time it had been visibly declining; at length it broke down and no hope of restoration remained except in perfect rest and removal into country air. Spinal inflammation brought on by the too severe strain of late years was the disease from which she now suffered ; but an affection which might have yielded to judicious treatment, became chronic owing to the unaccountable error of her physician, who misunderstood the case, and by ordering open air exercise at a time when she could hardly walk, and an unsparing use of mercury, hemlock, turpentine, and iodine, caused intense suffering, and in the end disabled her for the rest of her existence. In fact she was treated experimentally for internal cancer, a disease which she had not; and this proceeding would probably have proved fatal to life, but for the interference of the apothecary who came to the nuns and said: “ Ladies, you may get anyone you like to make up these medicines, I will have nothing to do with them : Rev. Mother is being poisoned.” This good man was a great admirer of Mrs. Aikenhead, who had, he said, “ a heart as big as the Rotundo, and a head to match.” He certainly did a good service by his vigorous protest. The doctor was changed, the real cause of her illness discovered, and a different line of treatment entered upon. The new doctor was Joseph Michael O’Ferrall, a young man who had already risen to some eminence in his profession. Nothing could exceed his skill and attention ; and the Sisters of Charity have always felt that to him, under God, they were indebted for the prolongation HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 2 03 of the Rev. Mother’s life during the twenty-seven years she survived. From that time forth, however, she was never able to follow the duties of community life; and though her system recovered in a partial degree it was not until years had been passed in confinement to her room and even to her bed. In Dr. O’Ferrall Providence sent her not only a skilful physician, but a devoted personal friend and a great ally. Through the co-operation of his energetic spirit—ardent where his cherished profession was concerned—she was enabled in the course of time to bring to a successful issue the most cherished object of her life. Not very long after the Rev. Mother, now a confirmed invalid, was carried to Sandymount and left as it were bound hand and feet there, a sadly memorable occasion arose in which forced inaction must have been a hard trial to one who like her would gladly be the first in danger as the first in labour. The Sisters of Charity who hitherto had been working in paths hidden from the great world’s ken, were now called forth to prove their virtue in the hour of trial and serve their country in a season of terrible calamity. CHAPTER VI. CHOLERA IN DUBLIN AND CORK—REV. MOTHER INVALIDED— CORRESPONDENCE—CONSTITUTIONS CONFIRMED. N the midst of the unusally early genial Spring of 1832, Asiatic Cholera, which had desolated the East and spread over the Continent of Europe, broke out in Ireland. Dublin was the first place attacked by the plague, and on the 22nd of March cases were reported. On its approach the public authorities took measures for lessening as far as possible the sufferings w r hich were certain to afflict a city whose sanitary condition had never been sufficiently attended to, and whose poorer quarters were crowded with a population sunk in indescribable misery. Archbishop Murray issued a pastoral exhorting the people to great temperance, since it was ascertained, as he said, beyond the possibility of doubt, that the great scourge, cholera, marks out a large proportion of its victims among the intemperate. He cautioned them against holding wakes, and exhorted all who found themselves attacked to go at once to the public hospital prepared for the occasion, assuring his flock that they should there find all that would tend towards their recovery, should such be God’s will; or all the spiritual aids to a happy death which the Church can supply: together with Christian burial—a cemetery having been consecrated within the hospital grounds. 204 MARY AIKENHEAD : “ But,” concludes the archbishop, “ while we neglect nothing that can tend to stop the progress of the disease, let us acknowledge with humility, that: ‘ Unless the Lord keep the city, he watches in vain that keepeth it.’ (Ps. cxxvi. i.) Let us then look with confidence to the Lord, and aspire above all things to his grace and friendship. Let us, I again and again entreat you, turn from those sins which would render heaven like a canopy of brass which our prayers could not penetrate ; let us go before the throne of grace with hearts purified by repentance in the blood of Christ; let us invoke the blessing of Him in whose hands are the issues of life and death, and then let us commit ourselves without reserve to his holy keeping, saying with the apostle, ‘ Whether we live, we live unto the Lord : or whether we die, we die unto the Lord. Therefore whether we live or whether we die we are the Lord’s.’ (Rom. xiv. 8.) May the blessing and the protection of the Almighty be extended over you, and may the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the charity of God, and the communication of the Holy Ghost, be with you all. Amen.” (2 Cor. xiii. 13.) The sisters, continuing as usual their visits to the sick-poor, endeavoured, though often with little success, to induce those who were attacked with cholera to go to the hospital. Soon, however, they had the consolation of hearing from the archbishop that the public authorities had requested that the Sisters of Charity should visit at the Penitentiary in Grangegorman-lane, which had been converted into a temporary hospital to receive the cholera cases. Immediately a certain number of the sisters, many of them only novices, who were residing in the Stanhope-street Convent, were named for the mission ; and Mother Catherine, with two of her com¬ munity removed thither from Gardiner-street to join the chosen band and to dwell near the scene of their labours : the temporary hospital being within a few hundred perches of the convent. As the circum¬ stances of this mission were peculiar, and out of the usual sphere of the duties of the Sisters of Charity, Mrs. Aikenhead thought it neces¬ sary to address to the sisters engaged in it the following letter of instructions :— * “ My very dear Sisters, “With heartfelt satisfaction I have just received directions from our venerated archbishop to make such arrangements as would enable ours to attend constantly at Grangegorman-lane Penitentiary during the continu¬ ance of the present awful visitation. Although I confidently trust, my dear sisters, that the study of your holy ‘ rules for those who visit the sick,’ has amply predisposed you for the efficient discharge of the duty you are now called on to fulfil, yet as this particular mission is of a somewhat different character from those you have been accustomed to, I think it my duty to call your attention to a few particulars. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 205 “ The peculiar intention of our revered prelate on this occasion, namely, that by our attendance in the hospital we should tranquillise minds suffering from the effects both of agonising disease and false terror, will be most effectually met by perfect composure both of countenance and manner while treating with the poor sufferers: and also by great simplicity in the manner of instruction. In the present case lengthened expositions or explanations of the Articles of Faith and detailed examinations of conscience should be entirely avoided. The sentiments you should be most careful to excite in the poor sufferers are implicit faith in all that our holy Mother the Church teaches, because God Himself has revealed it; unbounded confidence in the Divine Mercy; acts of divine love; perfect charity towards all mankind ; humble compunction for sin ; and unlimited resignation to the most just and holy will of God, especially with regard to the present infliction of his Providence and its ultimate result. The frequent repetition of the following little prayer in a gentle tone of voice, but repeated distinctly and solemnly, will excite in the dying the dispositions principally required :—‘ O my God ! I accept of death as a homage and adoration which I owe thy Sovereign Majesty; as a punishment justly due to my sins ; in union with the death of my dear Redeemer, and as the only means of coming to Thee, my begin¬ ning and my last end.’ This with a devout invocation of the Holy Mother of God and St. Joseph is form long enough considering the circumstances of the malady. The prayers of the Church for the agonising should be recited by all at home during the time of evening visit to the Blessed Sacrament. “ One word I have to urge regarding the public recitation of prayers in the hospital (and I do so most earnestly) is, that it be made more solemnly, and much more slowly than is the usual custom amongst ours. Believe me, my dear sisters, this is a point of no small importance for general edifica¬ tion. All who have ever heard our archbishop recite English prayers, have had the opportunity of copying from a perfect model. “ I need scarcely observe the necessity of peculiar attention to exterior deportment. This should be equally removed from any degree of forward¬ ness, and from any undue appearance of disinclination to hold such com¬ munications as the medical gentlemen or other officials may seem to desire. It will probably be appointed that you visit the hospital in your religious veils; if not, I request that all lay aside their crape veils before they enter the wards; let them be folded and put in the pocket. It is not according to the spirit of our institute that we should appear in any exercise of its functions with our faces veiled like Carmelite nuns. “ These are a few of the ideas which have struck me on the present occasion, and I communicate them to you, my dear sisters, in the pleasing conviction that they will be received with the same sentiments with which they have been penned. Earnestly entreating your prayers, I remain, my very dear sisters, “Your affectionate mother and sister in Jesus Christ, “ Sister Mary Austen Aikenhead. “ Convent of the Sisters of Charity , “ Sandy mount, 28th April, 1832.” Without delay, therefore, the visitation of the hospital began. The sisters went as soon as possible after eight o’clock in the morning. A room was appropriated to their use, where they took off their outdoor dress and put on their veils and aprons : for there had arisen no diffi¬ culty about their appearing thus in public in their religious habit. To this apartment each retired to make her mid-day examen of conscience at whatever time she could best be spared. They returned to the 2 o6 MARY AIKENHEAD : convent for dinner, and after a short interval resumed their attendance in the hospital until nightfall. Then, having washed in chlorate of lime and changed their clothes, they joined the community for awhile before retiring to rest. Every part of the penitentiary, which contained fourteen courts all built round, was fitted up with beds; even the long corridors had rows of beds placed along the walls, so as to leave only a narrow passage in the centre. In some of the wards were prison- beds ; and these were so high that such of the sisters as were low in stature had no chance of doing anything for the patients but by getting up on the side. The effluvia from the bags of hot salt in perpetual application to the patients made the atmosphere extremely over¬ powering. The sisters had much to suffer from being obliged to refuse drink to the patients, the prevalent idea being that it was injurious. They saw a poor creature, frantic with thirst, leap out of bed and run impe¬ tuously to a bucket of water, whence, before anyone could prevent him, he took a copious draught. Except when under the influence of temporary fits of insanity brought on by this refusal of the solace which nature seemed to demand, and which experience has since proved was really the fittest for them, the dying preserved conscious¬ ness to the very last, and many were the lessons of strong faith, piety, and resignation—even cheerful resignation—which they gave. They were consoled by the presence of the priest and the prayers and attendance of the nuns. The laborious zeal and untiring charity of the chaplain, the Rev. L. Parsley, caused his name to be ever afterwards held in benediction by the people. ’ So rapidly did death carry off its victims that little time was left for immediate preparation. The priest stood in the middle of a ward and read the prayers for Extreme Unction for all generally, the nuns pointed out particular cases here and there, and then he proceeded to anoint each dying person separately. The progress of the disease was so rapid, from the first cramps and the sinking of the voice to a husky murmur, on to the last convul¬ sive throes and final silence, that a sister counted eight different occupants of one bed in the course of twenty-four hours. Among the nurses the mortality was frightful. The poor women who acted in that capacity, many of them not the most sober or reputable characters in the city, came in at night to attend the sick, and before morning it frequently happened they were all carried out among the dead. If they had not lived unto edification, there is at any rate reason to hope that they died in charity and enjoy the reward of their heroism. Every morning a fresh list of the dead was posted at the hospital gates, and usually numbered from fifty to eighty names. Mother Catherine was in her true element all t|iis time. She would not allow herself a moment’s rest. As the hospital did not HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 207 provide certain little luxuries which she considered might contribute to the comfort of the convalescents, she set out every morning with a basket under her nun’s cloak laden with supplies. She also took with her large lawn handkerchiefs to wipe off the ice-cold perspiration which exuded from the faces and limbs of the agonising. In the evening she gathered these handkerchiefs, brought them home, washed them herself, so as to have them ready for the next day; nor would she allow anyone to do this for her, or to help her ; no, there was no use in offering, or entreating : Mother Catherine in this would have her way. Sister Mary Magdalen, likewise one of the Gardiner-street Community, was indefatigable in her exertions to relieve the poor cholera patients, and her devotion caused her a great deal of bodily suffering, for she was herself troubled by a very painful malady all the time that she was serving the poor patients, helping them to endure, or preparing them to meet their God. Where all in the little band were up to the high standard required for such an heroic service, it is unnecessary to single out instances; but perhaps the zeal and light-heartedness of the novices who thus early in their religious life were named for so trying and onerous a duty, made the greatest impression on those who witnessed their devotion. One only of the sisters took the contagion. She had been for some time attending at the hospital, when one morning the sad news reached her that her mother had just died of cholera. The sisters besought her not to go that day to the wards ; but she, thinking that a season of public calamity was not a time for the indulgence of personal sorrow, prevailed on the superior to allow her to go to her post as usual. By-and-by she was seized with the first symptoms of the disease, and strove, but of course vainly, to contend against the enemy. She was soon laid prostrate, and a sad procession was seen approaching the convent—three of the doctors bringing home their indefatigable ally, Sister Mary Francis. She got over the attack, and in a few days was in the hospital attending the patients as usual. During three months the pestilence raged furiously, and the Sisters of Charity held on to their mission unflinchingly. As soon as the contagion had abated Mother Catherine and her nuns returned to Gardiner-street, and the Stanhope-street sisters carried on the visi¬ tation of the hospital for some weeks longer. After a little they discontinued their daily visits and only called occasionally. One day, however, they were startled by finding a number of new cases, and in a few days the wards filled again. The first panic having passed, this visitation made little noise; it did not spread as on the earlier occasion; the raging virulence of the disease subsided, and by the end of 1832 the cholera had disappeared from Dublin. 1 1 On the south side of the city a cholera hospital was opened in Townsend-street, and the Sisters of Mercy, whose first convent had been established the previous year, went there 208 MARY AIKENHEAD : In 1833, however, the cholera returned to the city; and so many cases occurred in the neighbourhood of Sandymount and Ringsend, that Mrs. Aikenhead became anxious to have a temporary hospital opened, in which the patients could be attended by the little com¬ munity. In a letter written at this time she says: “We are in the midst of cholera. In Irishtown and Rinesend it is much worse than o last year. By the aid of Sister Francis Teresa’s brother, the member (More O’Ferrall), we got on Sunday ^20 from the Lord Lieutenant. I sent her and another to the fine house of the landlord’s agent (an English rich noble), and we have obtained a store in Ringsend. He also gave ^20 more ; and a few other subscriptions make ^50 ; and we, with God’s blessing, open our poor hospital this evening. You may judge how busy we all are ! We hope it will be thus less expen¬ sive than now paying women here and there to sit up. Certainly it will be less injurious to our sisters than going about from one dirty hovel to another. Pray for us.” In August she writes again : “ Here we are going on with cholera still: Sisters M. Jerome and Francis Teresa spending all their time in the poor little hospital. We hear that the great physicians say that there is no such thing as this disease existing. God help them if they should be taught to their cost.” Cholera broke out in Cork about a month later than in Dublin, and lasted a much longer time. The panic that accompanied the visitation was still more disastrous ; and the Sisters of Charity were called on to take a very prominent part in succouring the plague- stricken people, and helping to allay the unreasoning terror which the presence of public calamity evoked. Then indeed the “walking nuns ” proved themselves in the sight of the whole city to be truly the “daughters of God.” The bishop directed the sisters to visit the dwellings of the poor sufferers throughout the different parishes, and every morning they waited on him to give in their reports, and to receive from him the tickets for relief in food, firing, bed-clothes, &c., which they were to distribute. A hospital was immediately opened, but the number of deaths from cholera was so great that the people lost all confidence in the doctors, and refused to go to the hospital ; or if any did go they would not take the medicines prescribed. In this dilemma the doctors deputed Dr. Bullen, the only Catholic among them, to go to the rectress and beg of her to send the sisters at once to the hospital and have them remain there as much as possi¬ ble, since in their doing so lay the only hope of pacifying the patients. Dr. Bullen also requested that some of the sisters would go through the lanes and persuade those who were attacked by the disease to take advantage of the hospital aid. Mrs. Coleman and Mrs. Clinch were every morning and remained till late in the evening, nursing and consoling the sick, and preparing the dying for their passage into the presence of God. Their ministrations had the happiest effect on the patients and their friends. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 20g forthwith appointed to attend in the hospital—and better qualified sisters for the work before them it would not have been easy to find : Mrs. Coleman so full of intelligent energy and ardent charity, and Mrs. Clinch so laborious a servant of the poor, and so sweetly engaging in countenance and manner. They went to the hospital, which was near the convent, .at six o’clock in the morning, and did not leave, except for breakfast and dinner, until eight o’clock in the evening. They were exempted from their ordinary spiritual duties, such as medita¬ tion, and even from assisting as Mass, unless when they could do so at a convenient hour. Their presence worked wonders, and the doctors were amazed to see the patients taking, with the docility of children, whatever was offered them by the nuns. As soon as it became known that the Sisters of Charity were at the hospital, all difficulty about going to it ceased. But so did not the popular anti¬ pathy to the doctors. It was sometimes amusing to see the medical gentlemen screening themselves behind the sisters and clinging to their cloaks while passing through the excited crowd that surrounded the hospital. Sometimes the doctors were anxious to detain the bodies of the deceased for post mortem examination, and this occasioned violent disputes with the friends of the departed. One day the relatives of a young man who had just expired insisted on the remains being delivered to them at once. To this the doctors would not consent. A number of men then collected in a small yard behind the hospital, and threatened the utmost violence if the body of their friend were not delivered to them. One of the doctors called Mrs. Coleman and told her that these men should be appeased; and then opening a door into the yard he literally pushed her out and closed the door. The sight of the religious habit had the desired effect. The men became calm, though they firmly maintained their point for some time. At length they consented to disperse on Mrs. Coleman promising the brother of the deceased that the remains should be delivered to him at the expiration of an hour. But the young man was not satisfied until he had exacted a promise from the nun that she would pray for his brother’s soul as long as she lived. Short as was the occasional absence of the sisters, they sometimes found on their return to a ward that it had changed occupants in the interval. This hurrying to the grave was truly awful. A few minutes’ preparation for the sacraments was all that the violence of the malady and its rapidity allowed of. In Cork, as in Dublin, the Protestant ministers, with one solitary exception, declined to attend the cholera cases. The consequence was that the deserted patients of their flock oftentimes desired the assistance of the priests, whom they saw con¬ tinually administering spiritual aid to the dying Catholics. Many Protestants embraced the religion whose professors showed such 2 10 MARY AIKENHEAD : divine charity ; and were sent to heaven with the words of absolution in their ear, and in company with the poor Catholics who had been early called into the vineyard and had borne the burden and heat of the day. As it was of the utmost importance that interment should take place within a few hours after death, there arose another difficulty in persuading the friends of the deceased to suffer this unusually hasty burial. Horrible imaginations tortured the survivors, and a general idea prevailed that the dead were oftentimes buried alive. The sudden contortion in death, and the relaxation of the muscles which occa¬ sionally supervened, gave some grounds for this suspicion: One, at least, of the sisters may have been affected by the awful apprehen¬ sion which prevailed on this head. Anyhow she would often remain beside a dead body for a little while after the last breath had been drawn, lest it should be removed too soon. One day she had just seen a poor man expire ; and though she was quite sure that life was extinct she still lingered, praying by the bedside. Suddenly she saw the legs, which had been drawn up in collapse, move down and stretch till they passed over the foot of the bed. She was terrified for a moment; but the doctors told her the poor fellow was really dead, and that the movement was a quite natural re-loosing of the sinews or muscles after the collapse. Some months after the breaking out of the cholera a second hospital was opened. This also the sisters were enabled to attend, as their number had been increased by the arrival of two members from Dublin. Sister Mary Austin Quan, and Sister Mary Stanislaus Byrne were appointed to attend daily at this auxiliary establishment. There were now seven in community; two remained in the chief hospital, and two in the auxiliary; one stayed in the convent, and two only remained for the extern mission : a work as dangerous and as heart¬ rending as the other. These sisters had to go into the dwellings of the stricken people, to persuade the sick to go to the hospital, and to do what was possible for the family that remained behind. In the lanes the inhabitants collected in groups out of doors—pictures of terror and sorrow. Wherever the sisters appeared they were sur¬ rounded by afflicted creatures, some inquiring after their friends in the hospital, others relating their various woes. Constantly the sisters had to stop to administer consolation and encouragement as best they could. Around the hospital a crowd continually collected, whose wailings—renewed with almost frantic vehemence whenever the door opened to admit a new victim, or to return the remains of the dead—were heard at a great distance. How the sisters escaped during this terrible season from the contagion, or from death through overwork and exhaustion, no one could tell. Providence watched over them, and gave them super- HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 2 11 natural strength, and sent them devoted friends and zealous helpers in their overpowering work. There was an officer of health who greatly and kindly aided them in their laborious daily duties. He had been one of the wealthiest men in the city, had kept good company, and lived in good style. Reverses had come, however, and he was obliged to take the situation which now brought him into the very midst of danger. But nobly he did his part in the front ranks of the little army of the Lord. Perhaps he had never been so acceptable to God in all his life ; perhaps he never would be again were he to live for fifty years. At any rate the Master called him. He fell, and died on the scene of his labours. The sisters in passing out of the wards left him there well in health; on their return after some time they found him still in the ward, but stretched on the bed of the poor, and dying. Their next duty was to set out at once and tell his daughters that he was gone ! While the Catholic clergy of the city made themselves memorable at this terrible crisis by their untiring devotion and total disregard of personal danger, there was one among them who, as he lived nearly altogether in the cholera hospital and came more than others into communication with the sisters, was regarded by them as a special friend, as well as a bright example of charity. This was the Rev. Francis Mahony, a nephew of the founder of the convent, and a son of Mr. and Mrs. Martin Mahony, the dear friends and constant bene¬ factors of the community. “ Father Frank,” as he was familiarly called, had returned not very long before this date from Rome, where he had received priestly ordination. He came with a high reputation for learning and ability, and brought with him a choice library collected in Italy. Appointed Lecturer on the Sacred Scriptures at the cathedral, he distinguished himself as a vigorous and impressive preacher; he was considered a light in the confessional; but he excelled in charity, and would give “the very clothes off his back,” as the people said, to relieve the destitute. The cholera patients and their afflicted families had good reason to bless Father Frank, and so also had the sisters who knew how ardent was his charity and how innu¬ merable were its recipients . 1 1 Father Mahony’s style of oratory pleased the educated by the richness of its illustra¬ tions and the unostentatious art of its composition; and delighted the simpler folk by the earnestness and occasional passion of its delivery. The lectureship to which he was appointed on his return from Rome was an endowment of Lord Dunboyne, once bishop of the see, and was meant as a reparation for the scandal given by the donor. Only learned and gifted ecclesiastics were named for the post, the principal duty of which was the delivery of a discourse on a scriptural subject at the ten o’clock Mass on Sundays. The evening sermons at the cathedral drew great crowds when it was known that Father Frank was to preach. One evening, at an hour when callers were not expected at the convent, the Sisters of Charity heard a ring at the door, and on inquiry found that the visitor was old Mr. Mahony, who, wishing to hear his son preach and not being able to get inside the church, so great was the crowd, begged to be allowed to stand at one of the convent windows 2 12 MARY AIKENHEAD: Cholera continued to rage in Cork throughout the year 1832. During the following year it now and again seemed to pass away, and the hospital would be closed for a time, only to have its doors reopened on the reappearance of the scourge. The sisters continued their attendance, devoting more or less time to the sick laid up there according as circumstances required. It was not till 1834 that the cholera hospital was finally closed, and the fearful visitation was completely at an end. A convalescent hospital had been established while the contagion still prevailed, and this was likewise visited by the sisters who gave religious instruction to the patients. Extreme and wide-spread desti¬ tution was the natural consequence of the prolonged and fatal visita¬ tion of cholera. Great efforts were made to relieve the distress, and where the voice from the pulpit could reach his ear. After the cholera had disappeared, Father Frank directed his energies with more zeal than prudence to the building of a chapel of ease to the north parish. This led to a misunderstanding with the bishop and the young priest's withdrawal to London, where he associated himself in literary achievements with his talented fellow-citizen, Dr. Maginn; earned a high reputation as a scholar, journalist, and literateur; and merged the character of “ Father Frank ” in that of “ Father Prout.” The closing years of his life were passed in Paris, and his last days were comforted by the presence in his home of his widowed sister, and the constant visits of the Abbe Rogerson. His remains were brought to his native city for interment, and having rested for a night before the altar in the Church of St. Patrick—the building of which had been the beginning of his troubles—were carried to Shandon churchyard to be laid at rest in the family vault of the Mahonys, beneath the shadow of the tower. “ The bells of the different churches,” writes the Nation , “ tolled as the funeral passed by, but people asked : ‘What of the bells of Shandon ?’ As the bells of a Protestant Church there might be an objection to have them toll for the funeral of a priest. Yet, could the bells of Shandon keep silent when the relics of ‘ Father Prout ’ passed by? .... Moved by human hands, or under the impres¬ sion of their own feelings, thanks to the good taste of the owners, or to the extraordinary im¬ pressiveness of the occasion for themselves, directly ‘ Father Prout’s’ funeral came in sight, some solemnly, some sweetly, but all sadly, the ‘ bells ’ were heard 1 tolling old Shandon’s mole in,’ and never ceased till the last of their minstrel was laid to rest beside the tower.” After his death it was thought that a second series of the “ Reliques of Father Prout ” would be forthcoming. But though a volume appeared with a somewhat similar title, it contained hardly anything but literary rubbish. Father Prout spent the weeks preceding his death burning all the papers in his possession. The only piece of writing he had not the heart to destroy was a three-cornered note in a lady’s delicate hand, discoloured by time. He laid it on his desk, and there it was found when he was no more. The note was from his elder and highly-gifted sister, who having been the idol of the poor in Cork } entered the Presentation Convent, and died not many years after her profession; and its purport was to invite him to the religious ceremony of her profession. Here it is—the only relic that Father Prout himself cared to preserve : “ North P. Convent , Dec. 28 th, ’32. “My dear Brother, “ All things are ready, come to the Wedding. Thursday next is fixed for the immolation of the victim. Come and assist in offering it to the Lord. It is to be sure mean, and unworthy of the notice of man much less of his Creator, but the sincerity and unreservedness of the oblation may perhaps move Him to regard it. Come and add your entreaties to those of his other faithful servants, and who knows but for the sake of the petitioners the Lord may accept the offering. “ Believe me your fond sister, “Mary F. Xavier.” HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 213 help was given to the poor in grants from the Board of Health, and in other forms. The want of comfortable clothing was severely felt. Subscriptions were obtained to meet this pressing need, and a charitable committee was formed for the purpose of providing clothes for the patients discharged from the cholera hospitals. Mrs. Paul MacSweeny undertook to have the clothing made and sent to the convent, where it was distributed to all who required it, whether Catholic or Protestant. The distribution was committed to Mrs. Coleman, who accomplished the fatiguing and anxious charge in so judicious a manner as to give universal satisfaction. The committee also furnished remunerative work to the destitute convalescent women and to the poor widows of those who had fallen victims to the disease. To this branch of the good work the sisters were also requested to attend. They had consequently to inquire into the views and opportunities and capabilities of each applicant and apportion the sums necessary for the traffic undertaken by the several individuals. A large number were provided with baskets containing a variety of small wares whereby they purposed making an itinerant trade. In order to ensure that the money thus held by them in trust for the poor should be laid out to advantage the sisters went about to the shops and purchased the articles that were required. They also induced many of the poor people, thus placed in the way of earning a livelihood, to lay by a small weekly sum so as to form a reserve from which their little stock-in-trade miodit be renewed as o occasion required. By these means several of the itinerant vendors were enabled to persevere in their industrial pursuits for longer or shorter periods. One of the poor women thus established in business kept up her little stock by those weekly instalments for thirty years. In the end she became entirely blind, and was then taken care of by the Sisters of Charity. Although Ireland had been scourged by plagues of various sorts, and fevers had oftentimes decimated many parts of the country, the cholera left a memory of special ghastliness behind it. Such multitudes had been swept away with hardly an hour’s notice that the general impression was that a considerable decrease in the popula¬ tion must have been the consequence of the visitation. It was not so however. While cholera raged, fever and other epidemic diseases fell below the usual standard ; and the Report of the Census Commis¬ sioners states the fact that the years 1832 and 1833 do n °t present any great increase of the general mortality compared with other years. During her residence in Sandymount, from 1831 to 1835, Mrs. Aikenhead was a complete invalid. It was Dr. O’Ferrall’s opinion that she should remain for five or six years almost continually in a reclining position. His directions were to a great extent carried out. MARY AIKENHEAD: 214 However, he permitted her to rise occasionally, put on her habit, and go out in a little nondescript vehicle—available when the laundry horse was off duty—to visit the convents and other places that she was obliged to see : always provided that she went to bed on her return, and remained on her back for hours. This constant lying in the one position, united with excessive pain, was a continual martyr¬ dom to one of her active habits and energetic mind ; and though after a long period she was allowed to sit up, the acute suffering she endured in the spine, especially in the upper part near the head, obliged her to have frequent recourse to the relief of a small cushion or padding put in between the shoulders and the head to support the latter. Even in her improved condition she was rarely, if ever, free from suffering. “ I cannot stand,” she once wrote, “ without intense pain, nor move without suffering more than anyone can know: all this from the back; and when fatigued the head becomes badly affected. Otherwise I am considerably better.” The patience with which she bore the pain, the helplessness, and the inaction of her state, was the admiration of all who approached her. If she could not glorify God by works of active charity, she certainly taught many a lesson by the perfection of her patience, and the genuine cheerful¬ ness of her resignation. For her own part she asked for nothing but to do the will of God. When she saw it was His good pleasure that she should abandon her cherished work to others, and bear sickness as her cross, she was well content. God gave her abundant grace to bear her heavy trials ; and with the special aids to endurance bestowed in the season of heavy calamity, He also gave [her minor helps, precious little blessings for everyday use, which saved her from some of the worst consequences of constant illness, and kept her in that condition of mind which was essential to her safe passage through a trying crisis. These minor aids, which medical prescriptions could not supply, were her natural cheerfulness and her love of books. She inclined to take the best view of her own case, and often pronounced herself better when anyone else would have thought there were small grounds for congratulation. “ I am certainly so much better as to general health,” she writes to one of the sisters, “ as to be able for application of mind without any injury, and also I can enjoy all that goes on ; but above all I have to thank God for a temper naturally cheerful. My spirits are good, and even when unpleasant matters or difficulties occur, experience has taught me the necessity, but above all the comfort of following St. Ignatius’s great principle ‘ to do all as if there were no one but ourselves to act (that is to do our very best with fervour and perseverance) and to look for the result as entirely depending on God.’ ” And, on another occasion she says : “ I am quite fairly, and up for anything that can be done—lying down !” HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 2I 5 No one knew better how to enjoy ‘a bit of fun' than Mrs. Aikenhead She had a fine sense of humour as well as genuine good nature. She knew how to laugh innocently, and it was delightful to hear the clear, hearty ring of merriment that would follow the narration of an amusing incident or break out on the sudden suggestion of a humorous conceit. One of her hearty laughs did good to herself, and to those about her, who loved to see the mother’s eyes begin to twinkle, and the sunny smile steal over the serious, handsome face : sure signs that the good story or the witty sally was taking its effect. There were times, however, when none were near to cheer the sufferer, and she was left alone for long periods. She would not allow the precious time of the sisters, who often had more calls on their attention than they could respond to, to be taken up with attendance on her. At these times, when it was beyond all things necessary that her spirits should not fail, and that her mind should be relieved now and then from the weight of too real cares which her forced inactivity rendered the heavier, her beloved books lent their friendly aid, and afforded her that relaxation which could not other¬ wise have been procured. When about to be left almost alone in the convent at one period, she wrote : 11 Do not suppose this will be any trial to me. I can read all day, and all the long evenings of winter with the greatest ease ; and very few enjoy reading as I do.” Reli¬ gious works, histories, biographies—all were read with pleasure and profit; and in the intervals when she allowed herself real recreation, a good work of fiction was very acceptable. Like many another invalid, she had reason to bless those writers who can relieve the pressure of present pain or care by creating a strong and wholesome interest in what is distant or ideal. Sir Walter Scott was a favourite with the Rev. Mother; and her conversation and letters nowand then showed that she was quite familiar with the sayings and doings of the characters in the Waverley Novels. But although Mrs. Aikenhead could not see with her own eyes that all was going on well in the different houses, or take an active part in the good works of the sisterhood, she was none the less the governing power and guiding spirit of all. Wherever she might be there was the heart of the congregation. She now began to direct and govern by the pen. Long explicit letters, covering four and sometimes six pages of the large old-fashioned paper, were written on the sick-bed. Sometimes she wrote while lying down ; sometimes at great cost of pain and inconvenience she sat up and wrote on a little bed-table, such as invalids use when taking their food. In these letters written at Sandymount, which were the first of a long series con¬ tinued in other places and under different circumstances, she spared herself no trouble : now giving minute directions about domestic affairs, or charitable enterprises ; now entering into highly spiritual 216 MARY AIKENHEAD : subjects. In reading her letters, whether written at this time or subsequently, one would say that she must have had ample leisure and considerable strength to enable her to carry on such an onerous correspondence. She had, at least later on, neither the one nor the other; and the correspondence was, under these circumstances, a hard labour and a severe penance. In spite of difficulties the letters were written in a distinct hand which once had had a graceful freedom ; the punctuation was carefully attended to; and even though the lines might be somewhat irregular, the missive was still quite legible. She did not like very small writing ; and when a letter in minute caligraphy was laid before her, the first impulse was to put it aside : “ Seed pearl, my dear,” she would say, “I cannot read it.” The tone of her letters was particularly serious, as indeed befitted the subjects generally treated in them. Yet some¬ times when writing to a young superior at a distance, who naturally loneed to hear a little news from the mother-house and who might want to be cheered as well as advised, Mrs. Aikenhead would send a downright pleasant gossiping letter with something of her native humour in it. But whether serious as a spiritual lecture, or playful as a familiar epistle to an intimate friend, the letters were characteristic of the writer: they discovered the strong mind and the warm heart. At this time a constant correspondence was kept up between Sandy- mount and Cork. Mrs. Coleman, though so young in religion, held a very responsible post, for she filled the place of rectress during Mrs. Teeling’s prolonged absence in Dublin. The letters—postage being high in those days—were generally conveyed in a hamper that travelled up and down between the two convents with an exchange of provisions. Butter, eggs, fowls, and other articles of consumption, were much cheaper in Cork, while Dublin bacon was considered a treat in the south. The same opportunity was taken advantage of for conveying not only things ordered, but presents for feast days and such like substantial tokens of remembrance. Once or twice the Inisfail , the little steamer in which the hamper travelled, having made the coast of England her way to Dublin, the contents of the hamper were seriously jeopardised by the delay in the transit. “ The basket,” writes Mrs. Aikenhead, “which you kindly sent did not arrive till the day before yesterday. It was fortunate you did not send anything more than eggs ; and seven of these only arrived whole, and four or five yolkes in such a state as left them fit to use yesterday in a wee pudding. The letters after being well dried could be read.” How much the gifts and attentions from Cork were appreciated we can judge from a letter in which the Rev. Mother says : “You see we have a real treasure of a zealous, unmeddling, kind chaplain here, who hears the great big men’s confessions before and after break- HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 217 fast; so he is worth a good egg. • And I promised Dr. O’Ferrall’s very amiable, nice old mother that the Rev. Mother would keep her in egsrs for his breakfast. She loves him as her life. No wonder. So you see why I beg and steal!” Her letters of this date frequently mention orders for glass of the most expensive kind, to be supplied from Cork to her friends who wanted the articles either for their own table, or for presents they wished to make to others. It would appear, too, as if more than one very handsome article was destined as a present from the congrega¬ tion to some great benefactor. Mrs. Aikenhead, willing no doubt to encourage trade in her native city as well as to oblige her Dublin friends, gladly undertook these commissions. She observes that nothing so good in that way is to Joe had in Dublin. The glass fanciers must have been affluent folk, for silver mountings and armo¬ rial engravings are not spared. In this correspondence the Rev. Mother is faithful in sending her love to “ poor old mammy nurse.” The sisters in Cork took the greatest care of Mary Rorke, pensioned her in her declining years, and attended her in her last illness. Mrs. Aikenhead was most grateful to her children for this service. “Your account,” she says, “ of my nurse leads me to think she will not live long. Poor soul! Almighty Providence has been most merciful to her. It is a comfort to me to think of your kindness and care. Tell her with my true love that I pray for her, and hope she will offer her prayers for me and all the dear sisters.” And again : “ Tell my poor nurse that our Lord is leaving her a fine time to become a saint. She has also many bless¬ ings, and now at the last hour the Almighty goodness has sent her support and comfort through your hands. Much better for her that I became a Sister of Charity than if I had been married. My children are of the right sort!” The following letter was addressed to Mrs. Coleman during the trying period when the Cork community were in the midst of the horrors of the cholera visitation :— “ Kp Convent of the Sisters of Charity , “ Sandy mount, 3 rd fane, 1832. “My very dear Sister and Child in Jesus Christ, “ I am not quite sure whether I shall be able to write very much at present, but I cannot allow the opportunity to pass without thanking you for your letter and still more for your love of the duties of our dear congregation, and your efforts to be faithful in the share of labour which has been allotted to you. But my dear M. Chantal, it is our good God to whom both you and I should be grateful on this subject. And we have much to thank Him for, even for these little drawbacks on our comforts and conveniences especially experienced by our dear sisters in Cork. May all and each endeavour to deserve a continuation of his best blessings and of those special graces which are necessary for the attainment of that per¬ fection which He has called us to practise. Of little avail will be all our 16 2 l8 MARY AIKENHEAD : exertions in behalf of our suffering fellow-creatures if each act does not flow from the interior spirit of genuine charily: the indispensable charac¬ teristics of this you will learn from that portion of St._Paul’s Epistle which is read on Quinquagesima Sunday. This should often be the subject of con¬ sideration and interior examen with ours on retreat days ; for if we cannot prove to ourselves the existence of this charity within us by the practical exercise of those domestic virtues which are alone its infallible ?narks, we must apprehend that zeal for exterior duties is not that genuine zeal which con¬ stitutes solid virtue. We may exercise much of what will obtain the applause of human understanding, but with very much of this we should be like the foolish virgins with empty lamps. These are subjects of serious consideration, but we must have courage. ‘ He is faithful by whom we are called,’ and, my dear sister, how small are the deeds by which, if accompanied with purity of intention, perseverance, and fervour, the religious soul can amass treasures of merit before God. “I hope that each of us will, by prayer and self-examination during this holy time of Pentecost, invite the Holy Spirit to visit her heart and teach her what is faulty in her soul. We have very many helps to become interior and perfect religious, and if we do not avail ourselves of them, ourselves are blame-worthy. Our precious rules of the summary teach us the virtues which we are required to practise, and also assist us in gaining them. Let us remember the caution which his eminent experience in spiritual life urged St. Ignatius to give his followers—* in their spiritual duties to beware of the illusions of the enemy.’ One is assuredly that by frequent reading of the summary we get the letter of the rules impressed on our memory in a manner which leads certain dispositions to stop there, and to remain as unmortified in their own will and judgment, as if there was no 12th rule to help them to observe those of obedience; as irritable and reluctant to be laid aside or reprehended as if there was no nth rule to encourage them to a close imitation of Him who by his Incarnation came down on earth to teach poor corrupt nature the treasure of true humility. We read the rules, it is true, but alas ! with how little practical fruit. If we remembered the 13th of the summary, would superiors find so much difficulty in getting the less honourable duties of our religious servitude performed, or, if we were inflamed with the full spirit of the 19th should we not be more amiable, more useful domestics of the Household of the Faith ? It is very certain that we should constantly in prayer, and in the days of recollection we are allowed, study the full spirit of the Illuminative portion of the summary : it is only those who do so, that will be able to observe those regarding the vows, and those statutes of domestic discipline contained in the common rules. Industrious occupation, silence, conformity to God’s holy and just appointments in the trial of sickness and at the hour of death, will not be conspicuous in any others than in the interior, humble, and mortified religious. Do then, my dear sister, pray, and get all our dear sisters (to each of whom I beg my most sincerely affectionate remembrance) to pray that we may each and all aim steadily and fervently at this most desirable end. “All your kind attentions in the way of commissions have hitherto been very useful, and are always nicely executed. I judge that you will have other notes or letters, so shall not offer any apology for want of news in this. Tell the dear sisters who have written that I hope they will not feel me to be remiss if I take time to thank each personally. I am now better, but did suffer somewhat by all the exciting occupations of my mind during the last two months. You must all help Mother Rectress, whom I have commissioned to prevail on S. J. F. Regis to obtain a supply of good fervent novices. “Ever, my dear 31 . Chantal, “ Yours affectionately in Jesus Christ, “ Sister M. A. Aikenhead.” HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 2 IQ The Mother rectress just mentioned who was to ask St. John Francis Regis (whose name she bore in religion) to obtain good novices, was of course Mrs. Teeling. A letter, dated some months later, announces the safe arrival of the basket with general supplies, including a share for the good folk in Stanhope-street; and notifies the departure of the said basket on its return voyage with a miscel¬ laneous cargo, and a cake from the Mother rectress to her locum tenens , Sister M. Chantal. There are particular instructions in the letter about a pair of glass butter-coolers which are to have a crest engraved thereon; and a pair of water-jugs, which, as they are intended for a present, it would be well to have ornamented with the arms of the future owner. The Rev. Mother enters into particulars when giving her directions. “ I remarked,” she says, u that on the cruets for Dr. Murray the man engraved four very stiff clumsy-looking shamrocks, which besides were very much too large. Of course this was mighty Irish, but not in taste: therefore do not allow the same now.” And then the writer thus continues the epistle :— “ Tell Sister M. Austin with my love that I was very glad I had left it to her taste to put on the letters A. M. D. G. I quite liked the finish at the top. Tell her also that the quickness with which she executed the work pleased me much. I fear it will be like the man and his mats, and that whenever there is a profession she will be likely to be called on. They are now busy in the noviceship, as we hope that on the day of the profession we shall also have a clothing. The two candidates are the two domestic sisters, Mary Kelly, and Anne M‘Gowan. I suppose your dear little mother will tell you (but if she does not, keep my secret), that there is a prospect of two postulants for the first class. This is truly a consolation to me and to all. There is a difficulty about one, so pray hard—for most truly we want hands and heads. As to the latter they are so rarely met with, that we ought to be very fervent in petitioning for such subjects. You well know how necessary it is for our work, to have head, heart, and hands. Some per¬ sons seem to think that legs and feet are enough for us. But if we were obliged to go about like ‘Paddy in the Bowl’ (perhaps you never witnessed such an equipage, but I did), surely we could do much more for our neigh¬ bours than with mere walking limbs. To be sure our habitations should be all on the flat: no stairs; and then what should we do with Cork Castle!!! “ I must have done with my nonsense. I suppose you will shrewdly suspect that, now that my lower limbs are useless, I want to depreciate the merit or advantage of acquisitions of which I am deprived. Well my dear, I had once stout understanders, and in the day of their power they were not idle! Perhaps I shall be soon about, for now that steam carriages have arrived to so great perfection, why should we not invent a wheelbarrow which will move by steam, and convey me hither and thither ? All I shall wait for is until we arrive at the perfection of movement up and down stairs. I said I should stop nonsense, but you see how it gets possession of me! ” Somewhat later in the year we hear again of the basket, and the mishaps of the voyage, and find that other commissions requiring care and taste in their execution are entrusted to the sisters in Cork. It is 220 MARY AIKENHEAD : quite evident that a friend’s house is being elegantly furnished in Dublin ; and Mrs. Aikenhead cannot help saying that she often wishes that a dear young friend of hers, whom she names, was to be the mistress of the mansion fitted up in such good style, and the wife of one whose admirable qualities would make his suit very acceptable to the worthy parents of the young lady : — “But, my dear Chantal,” she continues, “don’t say a word, for you know we should not meddle in such affairs, and we cannot be fit to judge right in them. A good Christian, a super-excellent son, and an eminently talented professional man would, I think, be materials to please my old and ever dear friends. I hope the Dr. is getting on in good health. Dr. D-’s pamphlets on the cholera are said to contain more value and weight than any which have been written. I trust he will succeed in his profession, and continue to deserve God’s best blessing. We are in duty bound to pray our very best. “ I wish that I could tell you that dear Mother Rectress is well; but on the contrary she is very very delicate. Yet I think she has a better chance for the winter than would be the case in Cork. I am very grateful to our good God, and thank you, my dear child, for giving me news of your being happy, according to grace and good sense at least, in the midst of all the little additional privations and puzzlifications which the absence of your superior must occasion. Continue in His holy name to do your little best with con¬ fidence that He will not allow the truly humble of heart, who are diffident in themselves, and only confident in His assistance, to err or do what would be injurious to the public good. Be steady in regard to those quiet efforts of persons to gain their own point and to do their own will: if charity sometimes require of us to deny our own selves in order to gratify others, or to afford them perhaps a necessary help, it should never be at the expense of a rule, or of the real genuine spirit of the institute. You must give a most affectionate remembrance to each of our dear sisters for their letters (M. de Sales three or four short sentences, but don’t mind to remark anything of that). All must wait for my returns with a little effort of patience ; but you must tell all that I try to pray for them. I especially wish the Cork community a happy feast on S. Stanislaus’s. This time six years on that day the most Holy Sacrament was deposited in your little chapel. I remember Margaret Joseph; I hope she does M. Gonzaga, and that each and all remember the novitiate. M. Stanislaus should be almost a seraph these days, praying for us all. It will be the third feast of the holy little saint that I shall have kept in bed. Perhaps it may please God that three more shall pass in the same way—or, dear Chantal, neither of us may live to see another. Pray that we may prepare rightly for the result. Tell M. de Sales that I rejoice on her niece’s account, and hope sh» will persevere. “ I think the great basket is sailing to you, and taking a bit of Dublin bacon. The Cork turkey is a noble fellow and cheap : smaller will answer usually. This large turkey is quite in good time; it will keep, and be the better, until Sunday, the 13th instant, when we shall have two or three of our sisters to dine. We are to have confirmation in our chapel that day. Pray for those who prepare ; they are the adults who were instructed here : seventy men, and as many women, and some of the school children. “Ever, dear Chantal, “ Your affectionate mother in Jesus Christ, “ M. A. A. “ Love to uncle and nurse.” HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 22 I It is not difficult to fancy how welcome must have been the hamper that brought these pleasant letters to the Cork community. Not but that letters arrived by other conveyances than the Inisfail. Mrs. Aikenhead, when she knew that news from Dublin was anxiously looked for, posted her communications regardless of expense. “ I am so uneasy,” she says on one occasion, u about dear Sister M.’s suspense that I have determined to send this by post. Attention to the feelings of our sisters is quite an excuse to our holy mother poverty for more than eleven pence! Our poverty is holy , and where can holiness be if charity, the queen of virtues, does not preside ?” The instruction of adults, referred to in the above letter, was an important part of the work undertaken by the Sandymount com¬ munity. The poor population, consisting in a great measure of fisher¬ men and their families, had had few opportunities of learning or practising their religion, and were therefore ignorant and undis¬ ciplined, though far from ill-disposed. The cholera visitation had the good effect of recalling the poor souls to a sense of their obligations, and they willingly came to the convent to learn their catechism and to be prepared for the sacraments when they found that the Sisters of Charity would help them to be better Christians. Mrs. Aikenhead, referring to this branch of the work, says, in one of her letters, that the increase of missionary labour is almost overpowering; from thirty to forty women assemble at the convent every evening for instruction, and the same number of men : persons who were either very long absent from the sacraments, or had never been to confession ; most of the men, also, much given to drinking. One of the commu¬ nity, Sister Francis Teresa O’Ferrall, a most indefatigable nurse and consoler of the poor cholera patients, got charge of the adult instruc¬ tion. She was greatly respected and beloved by the poor; and every evening large numbers assembled in the school-room to receive instruction from her. Sunday evening she devoted entirely to the Irishtown sailors and fishermen, over whom she obtained great influ¬ ence, and whose bad habits she helped to correct by inducing them to adopt certain ingenious devices for noting their shortcomings. Swearing was one of their greatest sins, and the poor fellows, who certainly did not fail in good will, used when going out to sea to put a certain number of pebbles into their pockets, one of which they would drop over board every time they “ came out with a big oath;” and then in the evening they would count over the remaining pebbles, and thus arrive at a more or less accurate estimate of the number of their daily offences by the tongue. Their blending of theological and nautical terms was sometimes very amusing, as was also the originality of their expressions generally. One of them being asked where God the Son was in heaven ? in order to ascertain whether he understood the meaning of the words he had just pronounced in reciting the 222 MARY AIKENHEAD : Apostles’ Creed, answered in rather an offended tone: “Arrah, ain’t he alongside of his Father! ” Their appreciation of the Sisters of Charity was conveyed in the declaration that they were “ the best girls going.” On the 25th of January, 1833, the congregation made its fifth foundation by taking charge of the Penitents’ Asylum in Townsend- street. This institution owed its origin to the charitable exertions of two humble individuals engaged in domestic service, a man named Quarterman and Mrs. Bridget Burke, 1 who began their meritorious work by endeavouring to reclaim fallen women, inducing them to leave the habitations of sin, and procuring respectable lodgings for them. They organised a penny collection, and at length, after much exertion, found themselves in a position to hire a house for the stray sheep they had brought back to the fold. After a while a highly respectable lady, Mrs. Ryan, niece to the then Archbishop of Dublin, Dr. Troy, kindly undertook the superintendence of the institution. Mrs. Ryan, who was remarkably clever and energetic, employed the penitents in washing and needlework ; and under her management the asylum attained to a high reputation for first-class work in each department. For some time before Mrs. Ryan’s death, ill health had incapacitated her from continuing her active superintendence of the institution, and the general order, as well as the financial condition of the asylum, suffered deplorably. The Sisters of Charity had no easy task before them when they undertook the charge of the institution; but Sister Francis Magdalen MacCarthy, the superintendent of the House of Refuge, Stanhope-street, and one of the real “ heads ” of the congre¬ gation, was appointed to reorganise the Townsend-street establish¬ ment, and the work was speedily and satisfactorily accomplished. This year, 1833, is memorable in the Annals of the order from the circumstance of the long-desired confirmation of the constitutions having been granted. The good news was announced to Mrs. Aiken- head in the following note hastily written by the archbishop after a laborious confirmation day, and given into the charge of the Rev. Mr. Smithwick of Sandymount, a good friend of the community established in that parish :— “ Dear Rev. Mother, “ I was unavoidably prevented from paying you a visit yesterday, as it was my intention to do, in order to give you the comfort of reading the accompanying letter regarding your constitutions. Dr. Cullen had written to me on the 1st of August, holding out the hope that, within less than a month from that date, that tedious affair would be favourably settled. But hopes on that subject had been so often held out and so often disappointed, 1 An account of Bridget Burke will be found in “ Our Exemplars Rich and Poora collection of Biographical Sketches published in 1861, edited by Matthew Davenport Hill, Recorder of Birmingham, and having a preface by Lord Brougham. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 223 that I was reluctant to raise your expectations anew, until I should have something of a more solid foundation to rest them on. I think that such a foundation is now supplied, and that I may venture to offer my congratula¬ tions upon it. I shall not, however, remove all anxiety from my mind about it, until the confirmatory Brief shall be actually issued. Dr. Cullen very humbly attributes our present favourable position to the new secretary of Propaganda; I think it is very principally owing to his own [exertions.] “I was delighted to hear of your amendment; I hope you will be able to tell me that it continues progressive. I write these hurried lines here after Confirmation, with a view to give them in charge to Mr. Smithwick. “Yours, in haste, most truly, “ D. Murray. “ Porlobello, ^rd Sep. 1833.” Happily, the archbishop had not to bear anxiety much longer on the score of the confirmation of the constitutions of the congregation. In due course the Brief was issued, and one of the dearest wishes of Dr. Murray's heart was fully realised. END OF BOOK II. BOOK III. look III. i 83 3— 1 844. CHAPTER I. PLANNING AND PREPARING—JOSEPH MICHAEL O’FERRALL—SISTERS GO TO FRANCE—ST. VINCENT’S HOSPITAL—DANIEL O’CONNELL. |HILE the Sisters of Charity were engaged in their different centres of work:—attending the plague-stricken in the hospitals ; teaching men, women and children ; reforming the erring, and training the young; Mrs. Aikenhead in her suffering solitude at Sandymount found abundant occupation for her active mind in directing the undertakings she was not allowed to take an active part in carrying out, and planning great things for the future. Every work of charity as it presented itself was indeed embraced by her with ready zeal, but the work she had most set her heart on accomplishing—the establishment of a great hospital in which the sick-poor should receive all the aid that the physi¬ cian’s skill could provide, and all the comfort that the ministrations of Sisters of Charity could afford — had not yet been commenced. Nearly eighteen years from the foundation of the institute passed over before there appeared even a chance of her wishes being realised. However, not very long after she had been carried out to Sandymount to lie there invalided, her desires began to take the shape of a settled hope ; Providence seemed to be gradually preparing the means requisite for the starting of the enterprise ; and the time approached when a commencement might be made. The first aid towards the establishment of the hospital was in the substantial form of a sum of £3,000 given for the purchase of a suit¬ able house by Sister M. Teresa O’Ferrall. The second God-send was the introduction to the Rev. Mother of the able physician who 228 MARY AIKENHEAD : was destined to aid her in the foundation and conduct of an institu¬ tion which was soon to become a great school of medicine, as well as one of the noblest works of charity. Dr. O’Ferrall no sooner learned what Mrs. Aikenhead’s views were than he entered into the project with all the steady earnestness of a nature in which, under a some¬ what cold and unattractive exterior, were hidden a subdued enthu¬ siasm, unconquerable force of will, and unlimited personal devotion. In truth, stricken though she was in bodily health, her heart now rejoiced, and overflowed in thanksgiving to God, who had sent her at this crisis another great friend, another great helper. Like most Irish Catholics of their day, Dr. O’Ferrall and his parents had found life not quite easy sailing. His father, a Catholic by birth, was of humble rank. His mother was a member of a Protestant family of high position. Having lost her parents while still very young, she was brought up by an uncle and aunt who idolised her, and gave her all the advantages of a good education and intercourse with refined society. As a child she was much attached to an old Catholic servant, whom she prevailed on one day to take her to the chapel. This was a dangerous proceeding ; but the nurse’s great old-fashioned mantle served as a cloak for the enterprise, and hidden within its ample folds the little girl was stolen quietly out of the house and safely introduced into the chapel of the Carmelite Friars in Clarendon-street. The impressions she then received never were effaced, and as she grew up she often took stolen marches in the same direction. When she was older, and just in the bloom of early womanhood, she wandered into the same chapel one day, and a confessional in which sat an old priest, attracted her attention. She remained for a time watching the people going in and coming out, and then made up her mind to follow their example. She went in, and told the priest she would like to be a Catholic. The good father encouraged her, and bade her come to him again. She did so, and was instructed and prepared, and finally received into the Church. This made her very happy, but the difficulty of keeping her secret soon became more than embarrassing. Her uncle and aunt were Protestants of uncompromising character in regard to anything that might savour of Popery: from them she knew that no quarter could be expected if she were found out. It was now impossible for her to attend the Church of England service, and one excuse after another was devised as Sunday followed Sunday and her absence was remarked. At length suspicion was aroused, and as it was observed that she frequently went out alone, a friend of the family undertook to follow her steps and ascertain where the attraction lay. The convert was tracked on her lonely way to the chapel of the Carmelites. On her return home that evening she was summoned into the presence of her relatives and interrogated on the subject of religion. Having HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 229 confessed the faith unhesitatingly, she was asked whether she knew the consequences of persisting in her infatuation; whether she was aware that in the event of her doing so she could no longer remain under the roof that had hitherto sheltered her ? She replied that she knew the consequences, and was ready to meet her fate. That day, without pity and without provision for the future, beautiful and friend¬ less, the young girl was sent out into the world alone. She made her way at once to the old priest who had received her into the Church. He was not surprised to see her in this sad plight, which he had long foreseen would be the penalty of her adherence to her convictions. He went immediately in search of a lodging where she could be placed, and, having found what was suitable near the chapel, placed her under proper protection. He and his brother priests visited and supported her, and did what they could for the friendless girl, until after some time feeling that it was hardly suitable for them to have the charge of this young creature, they looked about for some way of providing for her. In those days there were no Catholic institutions that could be had recourse to in such an emergency; and there seemed no chance of procuring a home for her except by marriage. In the neighbourhood lived a young man named Farrell, well known to the priests, and highly thought of by them. He was in a humble position, being a barber by trade ; but under the circum¬ stances would it not be well for her to have a home, and the protection of a worthy Catholic husband ? The young man was introduced to her by her friends ; and him they proposed to her in marriage. She received the proposal humbly ; said it must be the will of God—that the Blessed Virgin had done the same thing ; and submitted to what her only friends on earth considered was for her good. The marriage was solemnized in the church of the Carmelites, about the year 1790. Young Farrell turned out a good husband. In due course a son was born who received the name of Joseph Michael; then came another son, and then a daughter ; and finally the father died, leaving his widow to bring up the children as best she could. Mrs. Farrell saw her aunt no more after the night of her banishment; and it was not until she was a widow that she again met her uncle. It happened accidentally. Turning suddenly from a bye-way into Grafton-street, she almost ran against a gentleman who was crossing in a different direction. She looked up and recognised her uncle. He stretched out his hand, and, looking at her widow’s garb, said they had both known sorrow since they last met. His wife too was in the grave. Some return of kindness followed this meeting. One way or another the poor mother struggled on, and contrived to give her children a good education. Joseph was sent to Samuel Whyte’s excellent school in Johnson’s-court, off Grafton-street, where 230 MARY AIKENHEAD : the Duke of Wellington and his brother, Richard Brinsley Sheridan, Thomas Moore, Robert Emmet, and other distinguished men had received their early education. Among his school-fellows was a lad named Whelan who subsequently joined the Carmelites in Clarendon- street, was appointed Bishop of Bombay, and finally returning to Ireland, ended his days in his native country, and was buried in the Church of the friary in which his early religious life had been passed. When Joseph Farrell was old enough to work for his own liveli¬ hood, and help his mother, he took a situation in the Blackpits distillery. The salary which he received as a clerk cannot have been very large, and yet he contrived to support himself, to help in procur¬ ing education for his brother and sister, and to save money where¬ with to pay the apprentice-fee, in those days considerable, when the time should come for commencing the study of the medical profession in which it was his ambition to be enrolled. Meanwhile he studied hard while entertaining his cherished dream. He thought no labour excessive, no privation beyond endurance, no efforts of patience too great, that helped him towards the attainment of his desires. His great aim was to raise the family fortunes, and place the mother whom he idolised in a position equal to that which she had renounced when she left all to follow the call of grace. He was twenty-five years of age when he commenced the study of medicine. Talent and industry marked him out for success. He became resident pupil in the Richmond Hospital, passed the College of Surgeons in 1821, and began a career which he pursued to a good old age with unabated ardour and ever increasing success. After a while he became known in society, not only as a rising young man, but also as a man of educa¬ tion and taste, and a perfect French scholar. His conversation and his manner were at that time not without a certain attraction : for he took some pains to be agreeable, and he wished to get on in fashion¬ able society as well as in the professional ranks. Dr. O’Ferrall 1 had arrived at this point of his career, and was about forty years of age, when, as already said, he was called in to attend Mrs. Aikenhead, who at once recognised the merit of her physician. His sincere religious feeling, his kindness to the poor, his conscientiousness in small as well as in great things, his ardent love for his profession, won her esteem ; and then began that firm friend¬ ship, and mutual exchange of good offices which terminated only with death. 1 The name underwent some intermediate changes before it settled into the original and ancient “ O’Ferrall.” The doctor incurred no small censure for this conceit as it was called. But he was not the only possessor of an ancient Catholic name who adopted the old spelling and resumed the prefix of O or Mac which had been dropped during the penal days. O’Connell said he regretted that he had not after Emancipation returned to the former style and spelled his name O’Conal. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 231 The physician and the purchase money having been provided, Mrs. Aikenhead began anxiously to consider how she might get some of her community trained so far as to enable them to undertake the management of the new hospital. In her letters she makes frequent mention of her hopes and intentions, and refers to a project she has on foot for sending sisters to Paris to study the manner of conducting hospitals under the system of the Hospitalieres of St. Thomas of Villanova. By-and-by she is in a position to speak to her corres¬ pondent in Cork of the departure of the archbishop for Paris to leave three of the Sisters of Charity to learn hospital work in one of the great institutions in that city. “ I judge that Mother Rectress has told you of the departure of our revered Archbishop —all on our business. Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien accom¬ panied him, and all go on to Paris to fix our dear Sisters at the “ Hospice de la Pitie,” to learn accomplishments becoming Irish Sisters of Charity. Pray much and strongly, you and all your little flock, to bring down blessings and graces in abundance on this matter. Dr. Murray wishes to thank the Superieure G6nerale in person for the handsome manner in which she consented to grant our petition. Mother Catherine and I are personally acquainted with two of the members.” Two of the nuns preceded the party, having some business in England. The third, whom we shall designate as Sister M. C., left Dublin for London with the archbishop and Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien, in the month of April, 1833. Sister M. C. has put on record a short account of the journey to Paris and of the sojourn in France ; and from that interesting sketch we take the following particulars almost word for word. On the way to London Mrs. O’Brien became ill, and her party were obliged to remain at Leamington for a week while awaiting her convalescence. By a strange coincidence three Benedictine nuns happened just then to be at the same hotel. They had come to the neighbourhood to purchase the ground on which their monastery of Princethorpe was afterwards erected. These nuns were Madame de Chatellet, the superior; Mrs. Norris, the assistant; and Mrs. Emily MacCarthy, the sister of one of the Irish congregation—Sister Francis Magdalen. Almost every evening Sister M. C. had the pleasure of spending some time in the society of these good nuns. The Benedictines had their chaplain with them, and they assisted at his Mass in the parish chapel at an early hour every morning. About an hour later Sister M. C. went with her chaplain the Archbishop of Dublin, having the honour of carrying his bag. At the chapel they were always met by a poor Irishman, a baker, who out of love for Old Ireland came to serve Dr. Murray’s Mass. As soon as Mrs. O’Brien was sufficiently recovered the party set out for London, travelling, as they had done from Holyhead, in Dr. Murray’s carriage with post 232 MARY AIKENHEAD : horses. Arriving in London Sister M. C. went to Lady Stanley’s house in Devonshire-place to join the two Sisters of Charity who had left Ireland some time before, and were now to proceed to Paris. Two days later the party went to Folkestone whence they crossed to Calais. As they arrived at Calais on Saturday they remained there the following day. His Grace said Mass in the cathedral. Before going into the church he provided the whole party with a number of small coins, desiring them to give one to whomsoever should ask them for money. This proceeding greatly puzzled the sisters, but it was not long until they saw the prudence of being prepared; for Mass had hardly begun when there was shaken at them a box into which they were expected to drop a coin, while all through the holy sacrifice they were constantly disturbed in their devotions by a succession of boxes or purses into which something should be dropped for the poor, or for the church, or for the souls in purgatory, or for some other good purpose. After breakfast they walked on the ramparts as there seemed to be nothing else worth seeing. Towards noon on Monday they set out for Paris. Posting all the way, they spent four days on the journey, stopping to see places of note lying on the route, such as the Cathedral of Amiens, and the pleasure grounds and stables at Chantilly. Having happily arrived at Paris, the archbishop like a good father delighting in giving a holiday to his children, kept the sisters a fortnight at a hotel that they might drive about the city and see the churches, palaces, public gardens and other places of interest. They also went to see the good nuns who were so kindly willing to receive the Irish sisters, and with whom the archbishop eventually left his children having waited to see them dressed in the costume of the nuns of St. Thomas of Villanova before he quitted the house. After spending a few days at the novitiate in the rue de Sevres they went to the great Hospital of la Pitie, which was under the care of the same good nuns, to begin their apprenticeship, each sister being assigned her ward and her mistress. Two of the sisters remained at la Pitie the entire year they were in Paris. The third, Sister M. C., remained only two months there in residence. During the other ten months she resided either at the novitiate, where four hours every morning were devoted to dressing the sores of all who presented themselves; or in the Children’s Hospital, which contained six hundred beds. However, she used to spend every Saturday and Sunday at la Pitie to continue her lessons there. Mrs. Aikenhead was of course kept au courant with the absent sisters’ progress in their studies, and with whatever concerned or interested them. She thus writes to one of her correspondents :— “The Sisters in Paris are going on quite to our satisfaction, and are very happy. They find truly affectionate mothers and sisters, whose piety and HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 233 laborious zeal are most edifying—so is their charity and attention to ours. That Congregation of St. Thomas (they are called Les Filles de St. Thomas) have forty houses throughout France—most of them attached to hospitals. In all the hospitals they are supported by the government or the magistracy of the place, and this most liberally. Poor Ireland !” In another letter on the same subject the Rev. Mother says “ Mary Ignatius told me when last she wrote that she had a poor Irish carpenter preparing to receive the last sacraments. She says he comforts and delights her. Alas ! they often witness dreadful deaths.” Indeed it is easy to imagine what strange characters found their way into the French hospitals. One of the sisters told of an old general officer whose reckless life brought on disease and poverty, and who was compelled to seek refuge in the hospital of the nuns of St. Thomas. He was dying in despair. No effort of theirs availed to induce him to turn to God for mercy. His despair was caused princi¬ pally by the recollection of one sin he had committed, which many would have thought venial in comparison with other transgressions. He had been the cause of a child dying without baptism ; and this he thought the good God never could forgive. The sisters were grievously troubled. The superior, a very fine woman of the noblest blood in France, was lame from sciatica; but she limped up the ward, and resting her arm on the foot of the bed, she stood looking at him with her beautiful face lighted up. “ What is all this about?” she said, kindly. The poor general went over the whole sad tale again, and ended as he had previously done. “ And do yon presume” she asked, “to measure the greatness of your crimes against the infinite goodness of Almighty God?” The words seemed to strike him as a new reve¬ lation and to take down his pride at once. He yielded, prepared to make his confession, and at last received the sacraments. When they were about to return home the sisters arranged to proceed to Havre, and spend a fortnight at the general hospital in that town, before they should cross to England. This establishment, likewise under the care of the nuns of St. Thomas, contained about one thousand beds, occupied by persons suffering from almost every ailment that can afflict humanity, and ranging through every period of life from helpless infancy to doating age. Here the sisters had also the advantage of seeing the pharmacy department, which was entirely worked by the nuns, and conducted so much to the satisfac¬ tion of the central administration in Paris that when a gentleman applied for the situation he was answered that no one should have it as long as Madame Riolet would keep it. After a short stay in London at the request of Lady Stanley, whose guests they again were, the Sisters of Charity returned home. They arrived in Dublin on the Feast of St. Aloysius, the 21st of June, 1834, and retired to their convents to await the progress of events. l 7 234 MARY AIKENHEAD : In the meantime Mrs. Aikenhead and her friends had been on the look out for a suitable house for the new hospital. After much search¬ ing, and much consideration, and much praying, she decided on pur¬ chasing the fine town-house of the Earl of Meath, which was offered for sale. Sister Francis Teresa’s gift sufficed for the purchase of the premises; the situation, in Stephen’s-green, 1 was all that could be desired; and the congregation after a short delay became the owners of one of the noble mansions left tenantless by the Union. Formal possession was taken on the 23rd of January, 1834, the Feast of the Espousals of the Blessed Virgin and St. Joseph, the archbishop offer¬ ing up the holy sacrifice of the Mass in the drawing-room of the lordly mansion. The house seemed large enough even for the big heart of the Rev. Mother, and it was in good repair. However, as the community were to inhabit the upper rooms, and these were not sufficiently lofty for constant residence, the archbishop required that the roof should be taken off, and the necessary height given to the apartments in that story. This was a tedious piece of work, and the whole house had to be left in the hands of the builder for some months. “ We have had our house, here, actually without its roof,” writes Mrs. Aikenhead in August, 1834, “ since the 12th of July. It is being raised, that is, so much as to make the garrets real rooms or cells. Now half the roof is on since Saturday.” As often happens when a long-cherished desire has been attained, disappointments followed the first success. Mrs. Aikenhead did not find people as sympathetic as she expected, and for a while she was left to plan and cogitate without much help from without. And yet, on the favour of the public she now had to depend ; for though she 1 Stephen’s-green, it so happened, was one of the most conspicuous situations that could have been chosen for the new hospital. The square had long been a favourite residence of the elite. Immediately before the Union, four earls, two viscounts, three barons; several honourables and baronets; eighteen or twenty members of parliament; the Protestant Primate, and the Archbishop of Armagh; the Bishops of Ossory, and of Killala and Achonry, had their town houses in Stephen’s-green. In the time of the Volunteers, the green sward, of some twenty acres, was a favourite place for reviewing the city and county corps. On the anniversary of the Battle of the Boyne, and on William III.’s birth-day, the volunteer army mustered there to fire salutes and parade in orange cockades. It was a favourite review ground of the yeomanry force at a later period, when horse races occasion¬ ally took place there on Sundays. The establishment of a hospital in the locality was not so startling an innovation as might be supposed. Within a few hundred yards from the Green, on the western side, there had stood in the olden time the Leper house of St. Stephen, with a chapel for the use of the patients. A pious lady named Blena Mocton founded this institution, and endowed it with certain tithes, and with three acres of meadows around the chapel. The house is mentioned as early as the year 1244. About five hundred years later Mrs. Mary Mercer built the hospital which bears her name, on the site of St. Stephen’s churchyard, for patients suffering under diseases of tedious and hazardous cure. (For these and other interesting particulars of the old St. Stephen’s hospital and chapel, and the modern Mercer’s hospital, see one of a series of valuable antiquarian papers on the churches and hospitals of Dublin, published during the last few years in the Freeman's Journal. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 235 possessed the house, she had not wherewithal to support an establish¬ ment. To her correspondent in Cork she discloses her little dis¬ couragements and disappointments :— “ Only this day I have been able to determine on a plan for the com¬ mencement of the hospital. To yourself alone I freely say that we have not, or seem not to have, anyone but the Almighty Himself to aid us in this great undertaking. Such coldness from all as would surprise you ! . . . . This was commenced on Monday, and I really had not time for you since. Indeed, my dear child, I can truly repeat the sentence with which I finished on that day. And this want of support, this falling away of every one is a trial to me. But all, all is far from proving that the good work is not His by whose assisting aid ‘ we can do all things.’ What I want is that you will pray.” And then, having spoken of the illness of some of the sisters, she thus continues :— “ In all this midst of disappointment and illness will you be surprised to hear that we have actually three patients in the house ? I really thought it better to commence, even although we should afterwards stop while the house repairs and the painting are going on. I hope the poor people will bring a blessing on the house.” In her next letter to Mrs. Coleman she says :— “ I am angry with myself for telling you of my feeling so much embarrassment, but it will induce you to pray the more earnestly. Since I wrote, I have submitted a prospectus to our venerated arch¬ bishop, which, approved of, we shall get printed and sent a-begging. On this score we should pray.Say a Hail Mary, St. Joseph’s Collect, and those of St. Vincent de Paul and St. Francis Regis for our aid in this collection. All the efforts of the ‘old fellow’ cannot have power if we deserve the Divine aid. So on we will go, trying to be very good. Teach those around you that it is by fidelity in our religious observances, by fervour towards God, fraternal charity among ourselves, and zeal in our exercises for the relief of the poor, that we can alone obtain what we seek. We have four patients in the house, but assuredly no great accommodation as far as appearance goes. We only took them in to bring the Divine blessing on us, but not for show ; so they have every comfort, and visitors pass by the room without knowing they are in it. Give my affectionate remembrance to all; and also to poor nurse.” After another interval, affairs took a satisfactory turn, and there was some good news to announce to Cork friends :— “ Report will perhaps tell you of our having received a legacy of £$,000 left to the hospital. I learn from our venerated archbishop that there is a prospect of £ 1,000. It is a great deal in fact, but you know how little in comparison to our wants. However, do you, as I hope we have done, thank our Lord for his favour.” And then, having said that she wishes her correspondent would get two Masses said “ for our benefactors,” she continues :— “I hope my debt to you will soon be the amount of Lord Ennismore’s 236 MARY AIKENHEAD : rent, that is^'25 less! Did I tell you last time that the Marchioness of Wellesley has subscribed £20 a year for the hospital ? Our prospectus is printing. As yet of course no names of subscribers can be added, as they are few, and no list could be made until we have applied. Our venerated archbishop has allowed us to name him as our founder, as you will see, and has given us a donation of/^o, and £5 a year; the O’Briens (Mr. and Mrs. John) /A05 ; Mr. Richard Simpson £$o. Mr. and Mrs. Ryan have sent £ 5, but desired their names not to be mentioned. Yesterday the archbishop sent me another £\o from anonymous. I tell you all this that you may praise our Lord—and assuredly it is in the spirit of our insti¬ tution.” The Rev. Mother’s spirits soon rose to their usual high level. Some friends gave her a few pounds to purchase linen for the new hospital, and she began to cut out and arrange the various articles that would be required. She thought herself grandly provided when she could count thirty pairs of sheets and an equal number of bolster and pillow slips as the beginning of the future wardrobe. The bolster and pillow slips she made with her own hands, as she reclined on her bed in Sandymount; while her thoughts no doubt kept time with the “stitch, stitch, stitch,” and visions rose up before her of all the weary aching heads destined to feel comfort, and find repose in the splendid mansion, which she considered not one whit too grand for the recep¬ tion, in the day of their sorest need, of the Lord’s own poor. About this date Dr. England, Bishop of Charleston, having revisited Europe, and spent awhile in Rome, was anxious to induce some Irish nuns to go with him to America and make a foundation in his diocese. Mrs. Aikenhead was asked to undertake the foreign mission, but it was not in her power to do so. “ I could have wished we were to labour in that vineyard,” she writes to one of her friends, “but to send any one of our present members out of Ireland would have been false zeal. We have not enough for the arduous duty we have already undertaken.” Finally the Ursuline nuns agreed to send out with the bishop four of their community—Mother Borgia MacCarthy, Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Molony as superior, and a young lady, a postulant, to found a convent in Charleston. They passed through Dublin on their way, and Mrs. Aikenhead had the pleasure of seeing once more her friends of former years, the older members of the missionary party. 1 She speaks of their visit in a letter, dated the 20th of October, 1834 “ I will commence with an account of the Ursuline missioneresses. As soon as I found that they were to be a few days in Dublin, and meant to see the convents, which our dear archbishop told me was the case, it occurred to me that we could so arrange as to have the ceremony of Miss r An interesting account of the Ursuline foundation in Charleston will be found in the Very Rev. Dr. Hutch’s “ Life of Nano Nagle.” After their mission in America had been accomplished, the Irish nuns returned to their convent home in Cork. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 237 M-’s clothing during their visit. So I wrote off to consult the parties concerned, that is to say, his Grace and our Rectress of the Novitiate. She was then in retreat, but on the 29th, St. Michael’s, she waited on the archbishop, and by his advice had one of her well-written notes to invite Mrs. Maloney and her party ready to be handed in on their arrival in Harcourt-street; and another to Bishop England. All occurred beautifully. They accepted the invitation, and were at the ceremony. (They never saw one performed, at least I think not , as it was, for truly our archbishop does shine on these occasions.) They dined at Stanhope-street that day. Mother Rectress of that house, and of this house (Sandymount), with Mother Catherine dined with them, in the community-room, and were served by our sisters Mary Xavier and Mary Stanislaus. After dinner the entire com¬ munity joined them, and they seemed delighted, especially with Mary Ignatius’s musical powers. On Sunday, after they had been at High Mass in the Metropolitan Church, they paid a visit at Gardiner-street, and then came down here, where we had dinner ready, on their way to Kingstown. I did not see much of them, and they were so fatigued that we pitied them. Our dear archbishop came down, and took share of the dinner. He was most kind to them. “ I am going on mending ; but necessary care requires that I sometimes remain in bed for days. So don’t think me worse when you hear this. I have been no less than sitting for my picture ! Some think it a very good likeness, but it worries me.” 9 / The alterations in the new hospital were now so far advanced that Mrs. Aikenhead and three of the sisters went to reside in the mansion for the purpose of overseeing the painting and internal arrangements. Three rooms only were in a habitable state; one of these was occupied by the still invalided Rev. Mother; the second was fitted up in the humblest possible style for an oratory, where the Blessed Sacrament reposed, and where the Holy Sacrifice was offered on Sundays and holidays ; the third, a spacious apartment, was a regular Noah’s ark. Here were the sisters’ three beds in spaces transformed into cells by means of horse-rugs suspended on rods. The rest of the room served for every other purpose, and was kitchen, scullery, larder,, refectory, and community room. In it was kept everything wanted for present use, or stored for future requirements, such as house linen, furniture, and so on. As the friends of the sisters thought they must be lonesome, and lost, and perhaps not too well provisioned in their encampment, delicate attentions were lavished on them, and little presents sent, of a kind not commonly found in convents. Everything of course was received into the ark, and it was not unusual to see a brace of wild fowl or a pine apple hanging from the bare rods of the iron bedsteads, alongside of some artificial flowers destined for the oratory. Sister Magdalen Whelan, a domestic sister of great piety, and no mean order of intellect, one day while walking up and down the room, and surveying the curious medley, was heard to say as if thinking aloud: u What a one, think you, will this child be! ” Soon after Mrs. Aikenhead had taken up her quarters in Stephen’s- 2 3 8 MARY AIKENHEAD: green, the Marquis of Wellesley came to Ireland as viceroy for the second time. The Marchioness, a Catholic, and of Irish descent, being a granddaughter of the great American citizen, Carroll of Carrolls- town, 1 had already shown herself well disposed to encourage charitable undertakings in Dublin. Mrs. Aikenhead now hoped that the Marchioness would take the new hospital under her patronage ; and in this she was not disappointed. Lady Wellesley, who was already, as we have seen, a subscriber, showed great interest in the work, took some trouble to advance its interests, and wished to obtain for it the patronage of Queen Adelaide. Royal favour was not, however, extended to the Sisters of Charity; and the prospectus, which the Marchioness had hoped would announce Her Majesty’s gracious coun¬ tenance of the undertaking, had to be printed without any such dis¬ tinction. This document, entitled : “ Prospectus of an Institution intended to be established in Stephen’s-green, Dublin, by the Sisters of Charity, with the concurrence of their founder, the Most Reverend Dr. Murray, Catholic Archbishop of Dublin,” ran as follows :— “ The institution now proposed to be established, was the chief object for which the Order of the Sisters of Charity was first introduced into Ireland. “The Hospitalieres and Sisters of Charity of France have for centuries continued to prove the utility of placing public hospitals under their imme¬ diate care. From the period of their foundation they have had the charge of all the hospitals under the various dynasties, which have successively held the reins of government in France, and every new administration has equally confided in their zeal and ability for promoting the public good. “The Sisters of Charity of Ireland, commenced their efforts in 1815. The many public charities, of which they have accepted the charge, have since occupied a great portion of their time ; but the experience which they have thus acquired of the characters, habits, and wants of the indigent sick of this country, has only strengthened their conviction of the necessity of completing their original design. “ They have been, in fact, for nineteen years, visiting a class of sick persons who will not go to common hospitals ; and they have constantly had the painful trial of witnessing their best exertions, though aided by occasional advice from medical gentlemen, defeated by the unpropitious circumstances of their patients, the want of wholesome air, and of those comforts and accommodations which are strangers to the abodes of the poor. “ The Sisters of Charity, therefore, propose to found an establishment, to which they could remove persons of better feelings, or habits, leaving to the common hospitals those who may be labouring under infectious com¬ plaints. With this view, a large airy house has been purchased, in which ’ “ Of those who attested that great document (the Declaration of Independence) some were Irish and many the sons of Irishmen. Among these Charles Carroll of Carlton was the most distinguished. His residence is added to his name. Why it should be so in this only instance is thus accounted for. There were several of the same name in the provinces. No man signed the Declaration except at the risk of life and fortune should the republican army be broken. When writing his name he was told he might have a chance to escape among a great number of namesakes, he added at once his residence to show how unwilling he was to avail himself of the circumstance.”—Doheny’s “ American Revolution.” HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 239 the plans and comforts of the hospitals in Paris, Notre Davie de la Pitie, VHopital des Enfans Malades, &c., &c., and of the great hospital of Havre de Grace, are intended to be introduced. Some of the Sisters of Charity of Ireland have been for the last year residing in the above-named hospitals, for the purpose of acquiring such additional information as shall enable them to conduct the establishment on the most useful and economical plan. “In this way it is expected that an institution will be formed, in which every friend of humanity will feel an interest, and the benefits of which will be so much the more widely extended, as its regulations will present to individuals of every sect and every creed, equal advantages and equal atten¬ tion. “ The Sisters of Charity feel certain that they incur no risk in thus fear¬ lessly commencing an undertaking naturally attended with considerable expense. They recollect that they have already been made ministers of the charity and benevolence of individuals to a very considerable amount, and they cannot think it presumptuous to hope that in their arduous endeavours to enlarge the sphere of their usefulness, they will be cheered on by a still more liberal share of public confidence and support. They cannot for a moment doubt that while they make a great and expensive effort to meet some of the most pressing claims of human misery, by opening a door to receive the poor wounded wayfarer, there will be many good Samaritans found, anxious to convey him to their care, and to supply them with the means of pouring oil into his wounds, and accomplishing his cure.” Thus did Mrs. Aikenhead express her desires and her hopes, and commend the cause to the great heart of the people. Copies of the prospectus were circulated in every direction, and it soon became extensively known that the Sisters of Charity had purchased one of the finest houses in the city, and were about to commence a work hitherto unattempted in the country. Some marvelled that religious should attempt an enterprise so difficult, and, as it was thought, so unsuited to their state ; others looked on the undertaking as impru¬ dent; but the majority gave their hearty sympathy, and regarded with admiration the great hearted woman who had the courage to carry out thus boldly her long cherished purpose. About the month of April, 1835, all the arrangements were com¬ pleted, and the institution, under the title of St. Vincent’s Hospital, was opened with twelve beds for female patients, although Mrs. Aikenhead could not at the time reckon with certainty on even £20 a year for their support. The beds were soon filled however ; and, finding the number of applications increase, the Rev. Mother opened another ward, and then another, and lastly a ward for children. Thus accommodation was provided for forty patients, and with this she had to be content for the first year. Dr. O’Ferrall, who was appointed first physician to St. Vincent’s Hospital, had no assistance during that period in his laborious and gratuitous attendance. The first operation in the hospital was on a poor little boy, who lay in the mother’s lap while it was being performed. During the early months of the following year preparations were made for opening a ward for men. The stables and hay loft in the 240 MARY AIKENHEAD: rere of the hospital were thrown down, and on the site thus obtained a building sixty feet long and twenty feet wide was erected, containing a suite of rooms in the basement, and a fine well-ventilated ward above, calculated to accommodate twenty beds. The rooms beneath gave a good extern hall, a consulting room, a bath room, and a post- morte7n room. A convenient pharmacy was also provided, having over it a room for the ward-maid and a little office for the sister in charge. To this important addition it is that Mrs. Aikenhead alludes in the following letter :— “ The three thousand pounds of which I told you we got the first payment of interest is a sum secured by legal deed in the bank, expressly for our hospital. This gift of Divine Providence is certainly an animating assu¬ rance of the special aid of Him, whose miracles do not cease to support the charities of this great city, although not in such abundance as to allow us to cease in our exertions or in our prayers. We must in gratitude praise the Almighty Mover of hearts, for many and unexpected little aids, as well as for the greater supports. “ We are, as I told you, preparing fora sermon on the feast of St. Patrick, and are also preparing to open our male ward under his patronage. The new ward will be called St. Patrick’s, and will hold eighteen beds. We shall then have fifty two beds ; but for all this we require great aid. Do not tell it to any one, but the really overpowering difficulty is, the want of persons calculated for our arduous indoor occupations. I have great comfort in some of our dear sisters, but we want as many more whose heads and hearts are right. “ I shall certainly make every effort to see Miss H. when she comes, and assuredly it will give me pleasure to have every in and out of our institutions seen by her. The more they are looked into the better. Is not that a bold assertion ? It is, however, very true. Of course we know that prejudicial persons see nothing right; but to any person really sincere, and of just con¬ science, we are anxious to expose all.” St. Patrick’s ward was opened on the 15th of August, 1836. The number of beds was finally brought up to sixty, and this point having been reached, there was a stand-still in the matter of building for five years. In fact all the ground was occupied, and there seemed no possibility of further enlargement. However, in the year 1841 Mrs. Aikenhead was agreeably surprised by learning that the house next to the hospital, and belonging to the Marquis of Westmeath, was for sale. Adjoining the house was a magnificent banqueting-room, the scene of many a revel in the latter days of the Irish Parliament; and this now deserted hall the Rev. Mother’s fond fancy immediately furnished with rows of curtained beds, and peopled with the most afflicted creatures that the city of Dublin could produce. A sum of money which had been placed at her disposal by Sister M. Lucy Clifford, and which she had destined for another purpose, was now sunk in the purchase of the noble mansion, and the concerns were put in the hands of an able architect that plans might be made for connecting the edifice with the Earl HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 241 of Meath’s house, or the hospital proper. Many difficulties arose in carrying this design into execution. The landings were at different levels; rooms should be sacrificed to make passages ; the principal stack of chimneys was found to be insecure. However, the plans were drawn out and the work was commenced. The builders had not proceeded far when about two o’clock one Sunday morning the sisters in the hospital were awakened by a terrific noise. Four distinct claps were heard, and they could think of nothing but that the entire four stories of the house next door had fallen. On looking they found that this was the case. The front house was in ruins ; while the banqueting-room, and the ball-room which had been connected with it only by a vestibule, remained secure. Notice was at once given to Mr. Beardwood the builder, who lost no time in sending labourers and carts to the scene of the devastation, so that by seven o’clock the rubbish was removed, the palisade which had been thrown down was replaced, and all looked as quiet and orderly as if no disaster had occurred. The Rev. Mother, who was at that time in Sandymount, did not hear what had happened until her other communities had been shocked by an exaggerated report that St. Vincent’s was in ruins. It was feared that she would take greatly to heart the loss that the congre¬ gation had sustained, and a deputation was sent out to break the intelligence to her. She listened to the account of the fall of the four stories, and then after a moment’s pause, with that set of the eye which was peculiar to her at critical junctures, she quietly said, “ Thank God.” The sisters were edified, supposing the expression to be one of gentle resignation. But the humorous gleam stole over the Mother’s face, and then she continued, “ My dears, I am greatly obliged to the Lord for taking down that house. It was really the right thing to do ; but / should have been considered deranged if I had done it. The connection of the two houses would have always been a botched affair. Now proper plans can be made, and all done as it should be.” Accordingly new plans were made, including a noble granite staircase; and though there were no funds in hand to begin with, subscriptions flowed in when the work was commenced ; nor did the supplies fail until all that had been undertaken was accomplished at a cost of £8,000. Mrs. Aikenhead speaks of the addition to the hospital premises in a letter to one of her children in a distant settlement. Having told her correspondent of the temporary sojourn at St. Vincent’s of five' sisters from other houses, she continues :— “ Where, you may inquire, had we room for five additional sisters ? Have I, or has any one told you that the old fabric next door. No. 57, is ours ? Well, then, we havehad a door of communication opened oppositetothe door of the 242 MARY AIKENHEAD : convent bath room.The upper rooms will be fine, gay, airy apartments, but alas! [are now] useless, as we should be in danger of breaking our legs, the boards are in such a state of utter decay. So our sisters occupy the bedroom floor of the storey over the drawing-room. Before any of us went to inhabit it we had our good chaplain to exorcise the premises. But he did not banish the fleas, which are in swarms, or were, for there has been washing and scouring to a great extent. You may imagine that this increase of premises will give me much anxiety and trouble. I wish I could engage good Father West to be our architect—but it would be better still if we could find a good purse ; for with plenty of cash three- quarters of our difficulties would vanish. Pray ! pray!” It is hardly necessary to observe that the money thus providentially supplied did not drop down in a golden shower on the roof. In the sweat of their brow the Rev. Mother and her community, and a few indefatigable friends, toiled at the work of collecting funds. Charity sermons were preached and bazaars were held in aid of the hospital, and on all these occasions the work of preparation, and the sending out of notices, were in themselves arduous undertakings. The periodical press was not so perfect an advertising engine as it has since become. Innumerable individuals had to be applied to personally who now would be appealed to in bulk as the great benevolent public. Mrs. O’Brien was an invaluable helper on these occasions, as indeed might be expected. “ Think,” writes the Rev. Mother, “ of our kind friend Mrs. O’Brien having actually directed every letter at her own house.” Mrs. Aikenhead’s share of the work on the same occasion may be inferred from a passage further on in the same letter :— “ I hoped to finish this yesterday that I might wish you all every happiness on the feast of our great Apostle; but from two o’clock till ten last night, I was receiving and answering notes, giving directions to the porter, sending off to the newspaper offices, &c., an account of the acquisition of the Italian singers having consented to perform before our sermon. Of course you will not perhaps have heard about such folk—nor indeed did I know anything of their being in town either, till Saturday, when I was directed to apply to them. We could not obtain the desired boon, and all directions were sent off to the papers and printers, when as I told you at two o’clock yesterday our friend O’Ferrall came to say he has succeeded in obtaining the favour, and all the directions had to be altered that it might be duly notified to the public, as it is considered a great advantage. Of course we must remember that man must earn his bread by the sweat of his brow, and we must prepare and be willing to labour for the poor in our vocation. Collecting funds in this great city is actually laborious, although assuredly the people are eminently charitable.” In another place Mrs. Aikenhead mentions that 4,000 petitions have just been sent out. Among the best friends of the Sisters of Charity in those days was Daniel O’Connell. He was greatly interested in St. Vincent’s, and took trouble in devising means whereby its funds might be increased. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 243 In July, 1840, he rendered the institution no small service by attending a meeting held at the hospital, and delivering an eloquent speech in which the noble work of the sisterhood was extolled and the support of the Irish people claimed in its behalf. It was surprising, he said, that the existence of that inimitable charity was so little known. It was an institution, he added, in which the most fastidious hostility could not trace the slightest appearance of sectarian partiality. The meeting was attended by many gentlemen of influence, and a great number of fashionable ladies. The Hon. Major Southwell occupied the chair; the Right Hon. A. R. Blake, the Chief Remembrancer, referred with great feeling to the piety and heavenly zeal of the Sisters of Charity during the awful visitation of the cholera; and a committee was appointed to consider what means should be taken to obtain a larger share of public support for the hospital. The report of this meeting had the desired effect of drawing more general attention to the work that was going on at St. Vincent’s ; and Mrs. Aikenhead received on the head of it visits from many interested strangers. She thus makes mention of one of these visitors :— “ I must tell you of an encouraging visit we had from one of those shreds of eternity who seem to be left on earth to show us that the Lord is omni¬ potent. This was an old gentleman who spoke of having wandered over the world (he is of the medical profession), and now resides in a lodging in Kingstown : nor can I make out any clue to who, or what he is ; but he went away in actual ecstasy with every point of our establishment (St. Vincent’s Hospital), to which he told me [the attention of] his friend, an old gentle¬ man (evidently his own old self) had been called by reading the report of O’Connell’s speech here ; and he produced an extract from a newspaper— our acknowledgment of Mr. Bennett’s legacy.” Mrs. Aikenhead was a sincere admirer of the Liberator—the great O’Connell—as she used to call him. In a letter dated October 25, 1843, she says :— “ Our extraordinary patriot is increasing in the admiration of all. His letters and speeches seem to have assumed a tone of dignity befitting the oratory of a patriarchal patriot. Man unaided could scarcely have run the wonderful course which we have witnessed. Quietness reigns ; and we must continue to pray our best.” Early in this year, 1843, ^ ie Holy See granted faculties to the Archbishop of Dublin empowering His Grace to appoint Mother Mary Augustine Aikenhead, to whom the Irish foundations of the Sisters of Charity owe their origin, Superior-General for life of the said Con¬ gregation. Thenceforth her official title was that of the Mother- General ; but among her own children she continued still to be com¬ monly designated as the Head Superior. 244 MARY AIKENHEAD : CHAPTER II. THE HEAD SUPERIOR. OR about ten years, or up to 1845, Mrs. Aikenhead gene¬ rally resided at St. Vincent’s Hospital. Under Dr. O’Ferrall’s care she so far recovered as to be able after some time to go through the wards, and occasionally descend to the reception room. What she was at this period of her life in character and manner may be gathered from the accounts of those who were then in close and constant intercourse with her. One of her dear friends and true disciples has kindly jotted down for the writer of this memoir her recollections of the great mother and model of the Sisters of Charity ; and though these notes begin somewhat earlier than the date we have now arrived at, they refer for the most part to the period when St. Vincent’s was Mrs. Aikenhead’s residence. We will not break the continuity of these graphic notes, save by interpolating occasionally a fact or a trait which serves to fill up Mother M. I-’s simply beautiful outlines. These added paragraphs are placed within brackets. “ One of my earliest recollections,” says Mother M. I-, “ is having been brought when a child of about five years of age to visit a relation who was a nun in one of the convents of the Sisters of Charity. Mrs. Aikenhead came to the parlour. She was an elegant looking woman, tall and slight, with dark gray eyes, almost black, and an aquiline nose. Her bearing was majestic, but there was great benignity in her countenance, and her smile was very sweet. Her manners were simple and playful, which gave her an attraction for children and gained their confidence. I at once got into chat with her ; and her manner and words were never forgotten by me ; for taking me up in her arms she said in a marked way: ‘When Margy is fifteen years old I shall tell her a secret which it much concerns her to hear.’ We were taken through the convent, and Mrs. Aikenhead turning to me said: ‘Would little Margy like this cell?’ ‘Oh, no!’ cried I, running out of it as fast as I could. Nevertheless the incident made an impression on me, and as I grew up I constantly asked myself: ‘ What could Mrs. Aikenhead mean by saying she had a secret to tell me?’ In fact the words remained so vividly on my mind I could not forget them. At the age of fifteen I actually did receive the first impressions of holy vocation to become a Sister of Charity ; which I did my utmost to treat as an illusion. My parents had a dislike to nuns, and from the time my aunt died, which was at HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 245 the early age of twenty-eight, I never had any communication with Mrs. Aikenhead or the Sisters of Charity. Yet in spite of all diffi¬ culties and opposition the call was responded to, and six years later Mother Mary Augustine Aikenhead received into her congregation her ‘wild Irish girl/ as she used to call me. “ As time went on I was very much with her, and had every opportunity of studying her character, testing her patience, and seeing her under the most trying circumstances. I was particularly struck by her greatness of soul and her perfect freedom of action, irrespective of worldly opinion ; the ease with which she referred every¬ thing to God; and her open, genial, good-natured manner of acting with everyone who came in contact with her. Her nobility of character was shown by her universal benevolence and generosity. She never did what is called a little or a small thing ; her smallest actions bore the stamp of greatness of soul. She was thought by the world to be exacting in respect to monetary affairs ; stiff and unbend¬ ing with regard to the dower of those she admitted as members of the Order. Nothing could be more false ; and many of her children now living can bear testimony to the off-handed manner in which she dealt with them about money matters, especially if she thought their families were straitened in circumstances. But when she was aware that means existed, she was inflexible—all the more as she thought the parties were trying to do God out of His right. I may mention one case among many of her disinterestedness. A young lady of ample fortune when seeking admission told the Rev. Mother that she was allowing an annuity to a married sister with a large family, saying at the same time that she was not at all bound : that it was a free gift. Mrs. Aikenhead made no remark, but admitted the young lady ; and when the time came for paying the annuity to her sister, she desired her to send the cheque, and continue to do so until she had taken her religious obligations. And when making the disposal of her property before her profession, the Rev. Mother allowed her to do what she had previously intended, which was to leave £1,000 to the two eldest daughters.’ 5 [Many were her acts of generosity even at times when the congregational funds were anything but abundant, and it was extraordinary what substantial service she contrived to render to the friends of the congregation. Doctors, lawyers, all whom she employed were regarded as friends by the fact. Not a few were rescued from obscurity by her means and placed in an honourable social position.] “Her integrity and justice made her loved and respected by all men in trade who had transactions of business with her. They would go any length to serve her. She always wished her houses to encourage the business people living about them, and she would say, ‘ we must benefit the poor trades-people of our neighbourhood with 246 MARY AIKENHEAD : our little dealings such as they are.’ She would be very much pained at any of ours cutting down what she called honest charges, or trying to get things too cheap—which she used to term huckstering. Her maxim was, £ choose respectable houses of business, and then trust them.’ Those who treated her justly she considered as her friends, and always met them in the most gracious manner. “ On engaging a man in any employment one of her first inquiries was to ascertain how many children he had and their ages. She used to say that it was one of our first duties to try and benefit the families of those who worked under us, as, if we wanted them to be faithful servants, we should make them happy and feel that they were cared for. One would really think she had nothing else to do, when a large family came thus under her notice, than to settle them in the world. She would talk of what trade she would put Joe and John and Bill to ; and the girls were always certain to be sent to St. Mary’s, Stanhope- street. She would often say there was no charity where there was no respect for the poor : for in them we serve Christ, as they bear the image of God.” [Few things gratified her more than to procure em¬ ployment for trades-people ; and many a time she was seen counting with pleasure the number of workmen she was employing, as if she were to get a premium for each, when in truth she was wholly depending on Divine Providence for the means of paying them.] “In despatching a messenger from one convent to another on business she would be sure to send a scrap of writing to the sister acting, telling her to take care the bearer was not sent back without her dinner. The impression thus made on me was a sense of the widespread family feeling of the congregation : that the belongings of one convent were as welcome and as well treated in another as if they were of the same household; and that the great heart of the head superior strove to infuse its own spirit into each and all. In fact, no matter what her hurry, or what the importance of her business, she never forgot the kind act. I have often known her, when a poor man came with a note on business, to send down word to have him brought to the fire and something given him to eat while she wrote the reply; and if she heard of a sister leaving a poor person for any considerable time in the hall, or sending an answer through a third person, she would send for the sister, who would be sure never again to be guilty of such a want of consideration.” [The portress at St. Vincent’s had strict injunctions never to allow anyone to leave the house discontented. If his or her request could not be complied with, at least let the matter be so explained and softened that no bitterness should remain on the mind. She could not bear that anyone should be put to inconvenience. If she heard a second ring at the hall door it would distress her. She would tell the sisters they had no right to try the patience of those who came to the house : they ought to HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 247 mortify themselves and save other people. One of them refused to take a bouquet of flowers from a poor man who came one night, after the door had been locked, with this token of his gratitude. The Rev. Mother was indignant at the wound to his generous impulse. Her heart would bleed for a thing of the kind. When she was so disabled that she could not go down stairs, large parcels which it was necessary for her to see had often to be carried to the top storey of the hospital. If the person who brought the parcel happened to be old, woe to the sister .who would allow him to bear his burden to the top. “ These old men,” she would say, “ often have disease of the heart, and other ailments which make such a journey very trying and even dangerous. Get the servants to bring the parcels up.”] “ It was a habit with her on wet days (when staying in a house to which a public laundry was attached) to ring her bell, and send word to the sister over the institution to see that the cartresses changed their wet clothes and got something hot to drink; and that the man who drove the cart should be properly refreshed ; and that after this had been done the poor horse should be well taken care of. This was as regularly done as the wet day came. She could not bear to see any¬ thing unkindly treated, and this extended even to the animal creation. She was as particular to inquire if the cat got milk as she would have been to ask had breakfast been served in the refectory. In fact she would be seriously displeased if she found any of the brute creation left without its regular meals. “ She had a great objection to have the children in any of the institutions punished, though of course it had to be done occasionally. Every ingenuity would be used in begging them off; and she would not hear of their being kept in disgrace when any of her own feasts were in question. I remember on one occasion when the cartress went up to her for messages she asked some question about the children. The girl said to her: ‘ Oh, Rev. Mother, they are to be punished to-morrow, and it will be your own feast!’ She made no remark to the girl on the subject, but by the next post a long letter was despatched to the rectress of the house, making no observation on the news she had received, but ordering a hot cake and a feast for the children next day. Her orders were of course carried out, to the great delight of the children, who shouted out long life to the Rev. Mother, and drank her health in a good cup of tea. “Mrs. Aikenhead was of a most industrious turn. She never lost a moment. Even while speaking to you she would be busy folding papers, or turning envelopes, or making little fancy boxes for the country houses as prizes for the poor. When I was applying for admission to the congregation I went to visit her at St. Vincent’s Hospital, which was then only in its beginning, and was shown into 248 MARY AIKENHEAD : her private room, where I found the Superior-General seated, with a quantity of spoons on the table before her. They were all of Britannia- metal, and she was employed engraving a cross on them with a pin, which was intended to mark them as belonging to the congregation. I was wonderstruck at finding her at this humble work. She at once saw by my countenance that I was astonished, and handing me one of the spoons to look at, she said : ‘ My child, it is very little matter what w T e are doing for God, provided we are doing it in the best possible way we can. And what would you say if I sent you to pick straws when you come to the congregation ?’ These few words gave me a high idea of the value of purity of intention, in the smallest and most indifferent actions, and a feeling that I cared not what I was employed in, if it were for God. And as she paid great attention to small things herself, she likewise required the same exactness in those under her. A lay sister who had charge of the halls and parlours had erroneous ideas of recollection, and thought it necessary to keep her eyes down. Rev. Mother met her one day in the hall when as usual her eyes were on the floor. 1 Biddy, I don’t like people who always look down,’ said she. ‘ Look up, child!’ she added, pointing with her finger to the ceiling, from which a large cobweb was hanging. Biddy looked up in utter amazement. ‘And now, my child,’ continued the Rev. Mother, ‘ if you looked up more to the heavens, you would do your work in a more perfect way for God.’ No doubt Biddy looked better after the cobwebs thenceforth.” [Mrs. Aikenhead was never tired inculcating the duty of being always employed, and the necessity of doing everything well, whether great or small. In a letter she says : “We must try to keep from being of the tribe of the Mesdames Do nothing , or even of the Mesdames Do little, for we have work enough on hands everywhere, and you know that ‘ Idlers ought not to have place in our Houses,’ which ought to be busy bee-hives. Yet you know full time is due to everything, down to the boiling of an egg.”] “ She had a natural tendency to see the ridiculous, and could give a most appropriate and humorous answer after her own fashion. For instance when a sister would begin to lament the perversity of the young flock entrusted to her charge and the difficulty of making them go the right way, she would look at her a long while, and then say archly: ‘ Thank God, my child; in all the bad things we ever did, we didn’t marry !’ Or, when the post would bring some not very . agreeable news from the different houses, she had a habit of*musing over the letters, till I would ask : ‘ Mother, what’s the matter now ?’ ‘ What’s the matter, my child ? Do you remember the old song ? Well, then, I’m just like the old woman that lived in a shoe : I have so many children I don’t know what to do !’ “ It was my duty for some time to go to the head superior in the HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 249 morning at a fixed hour, after she had made her meditation ; and on a certain morning not being summoned at the usual hour, I waited anxiously for a considerable time, and thought she must have got into an ecstasy, as my idea of her sanctity was very great. I determined to venture in, most anxious to behold some supernatural operation, and crept noiselessly by her bed, the curtains of which were drawn all round. I came to the foot of the bed and opened gently the curtain, expecting to see our dear mother raised in the air. When she pleased she had a most comical expression, and this she used to the full on the present occasion ; and knowing perfectly well what I was at, she raised herself in the bed, and said, laughingly: ‘ Good- morrow to your night-cap !—what did you expect to see ?’ And on hearing my simple expectations she burst into one of her heartiest fits of laughter. “ Her kindness of heart shone forth with great brilliancy in the correction of her religious children. She had a happy knack of making one feel one had done wrong, and healing a wounded heart when the fault was not deliberate. On a certain occasion when I was serving at table and not very well up to the business, I got a large dish, with a great leg of mutton and turnips, to carry from the kitchen to the refectory. I was fairly tired out when I got to the door. I could bear the load no longer, and let the dish and its contents fall in the middle of the refectory. When I saw what I had done I thought of course it was a crime of deep magnitude. I ran off to hide, leaving the community to do the best they could with the leg of mutton. It was not long until the story was carried to Rev. Mother, who imme¬ diately sent for the delinquent. I was found in some corner breaking my heart crying. I of course went to her room. She met me with open arms, saying: ‘ O my poor child ! what happened you ? They gave you such a large dish to carry! Are you hurt ?’ ‘ No, Rev. Mother, but I have broken the dish and thrown the mutton on the floor/ ‘ Well, my child ! what of that? If the mutton wouldn’t go to them, they could go to the mutton. Come now, you must sit down and take a glass of wine, and forget all about it.’ This reassured me at once, and I saw that I was not going to be turned out this time. “If any young or inexperienced superior made a mistake with regard to an over great outlay, she met their difficulty in the most liberal manner, provided the error was not intentional. I remember on one occasion being grossly taken in by a French marchand in the matter of church furniture. Neither myself nor my community had much experience in this line. The gentleman feigned not to under¬ stand English, and while we were making our remarks to one another in our native tongue as to the quantities we might probably require, he was all the time noting them down as orders. When we inquired what would be the cost of the moderate order we actually gave him, J 250 MARY AIKENHEAD : he said: ‘ O Madame, rien de tout. I shall send the leetle bill the next time I am coming, and you need not pay at all at present if you don’t like.’ We thought no more about him or the order, until two months later we received a notice from the custom-house to the effect that a large case had arrived from Monsieur M., Paris, for our convent, and the invoice to the amount of ^90. The consternation we were thrown into need not be expressed. We had not one farthing to meet this account, which we had not in the least expected. The fear of seeing the case arrive made me apply to my father and ask him what was to be done. His directions were not to receive the case. In the meantime I went over to Rev. Mother, broken-hearted, to tell her what had happened to me. She had previously heard something of the affair through another of our houses which had also been taken in, and she knew at once what I came about. When I arrived in her room she gave me one of her long looks; and then seeing that I was shrivelled into nothing with fright, she said: ‘Well peeny-weeny, what’s the matter now ?’ ‘ O Mother, something dreadful has hap¬ pened.’ ‘What is it child? come here and tell me.’ So then I began to relate the story of Monsieur, and how I had got the notice from the custom-house with the invoice. ‘And pray what is the amount?’ she inquired. And then on hearing it she took a hearty fit of laughter at my distress and utter consternation. ‘And what have you done?’ was her next inquiry. ‘ I got directions from my father not to admit the case.’ ‘ Your father, child ! what right had you to apply to your father? families must not be annoyed, or drawn into our business ; so you must never do that again.’ Then in the most maternal way she said : ‘ Well, my child, I shall pay your debt, because it is the result of your inexperience ; but not so Mrs. K.’s, or Mrs. IT.’s ; for they are old crabs, and ought to have known the difference.’ “ Her way of teaching a lesson was oftefl extremely simple, and yet most impressive. When at St. Vincent’s Hospital as a novice, I had a great horror of the dead, and could not bring myself to go near them, still less put them in their coffin. Rev. Mother was aware of this, and I was forbidden to go near a dead person, or force my feel¬ ings. However, Good Friday came, and a person actually died in the ward, which I looked on as a most blessed thing :— to die on such a day! Longing to make a sacrifice in honour of that day , I went to Rev. Mother to ask permission to go through the last services for the dead along with the sister acting. Rev. Mother looked at me earnestly, and said : ‘ Do you really wish to perform this act of charity ?’ ‘ I do, Rev. Mother, and feel I can do it.’ She then said: ‘Well, my child, go in His name, and remember that on this sacred day the holy Mother of God received the dead body of Jesus into her arms, embalmed it, and prepared it for burial. Let the Dolorous Mother of God be your model in this act, and consider yourself honoured in being allowed to HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 251 perform a sacred duty which likens you to her.’ I need not say that I felt no longer any repugnance, but rather flew to perform the act, and never afterwards had any difficulty. “ On one occasion a sister came to the Rev. Mother, lamenting over the difficulties of the office to which she was appointed, saying she had not qualifications for it, and begging to be removed. Rev. Mother listened for a while, and then said : ‘ Obedience, my child, implies many sacrifices especially the sacrifice of the will and judg¬ ment, and when practised in perfection it supplies our insufficiency, because we rest on the will of God, by whose authority we are entrusted with our several offices. Where is your faith, my child ? When am I to find in you St. Ignatius’s walking-stick, that I can pitch into the corner or take out of the corner? I am old and need such : so now go, and do your poor best, A. M. D. G/ “ One of her characteristics was that deep intense spirit of faith by which she seemed to see God present in the smallest event of life, and which she never ceased inculcating to all around her. I remember once going to consult her on a difficulty regarding a soul in danger. She looked at me intently for a while, as she was accustomed to do in serious matters, and then said : ‘ My child, God alone can direct you in this point. Go and make a visit before the Blessed Sacrament, and tell Him your difficulty. Whatever He directs you to do with regard to that soul is the proper thing/ This spirit of lively faith was carried out most strikingly in her perfect submission to whatever God ordained. She was never known to murmur, or betray the slightest want of conformity to the Divine Will in the trials of which she had no small share. On one occasion when a great trial befel the con¬ gregation, I happened to be with Rev. Mother, and I remember watching her closely whilst she was undergoing the painful ordeal. I could not detect the slightest word or act by which one could know what anguish she was enduring at the time. A word did not escape of censure or fault-finding towards the instrument of her suffering: but occasionally I could hear the words : ‘ O my God, not as I will, but as Thou wiliestor ‘Fiat! fiat! fiat! ’ Hers was a truly warm, generous, Irish heart, and this power of self-control struck me with awe on several occasions, when she was touched or wounded in the tenderest point. “ Reliance on Divine Providence was, as might be expected, another prominent feature in Rev. Mother’s character. She used to say: ‘We must do our little best to support the poor, but leave the result to God, depending on his sweet Providence.’ She was not at all uneasy about her institutions, even when the funds were low, and it was almost impossible, as sometimes happened, to support them. When she knew that any of our sisters were too anxious on such matters she would say: ‘ Why distrust the sweet Providence of God 252 MARY AIKENHEAD : by wanting to have more than we actually require for present use ?’ She was most industrious herself in trying to make funds for the support of the poor, and helping the superiors who were badly off for the means of relieving them, and she would be sure to replenish their empty purses with the first few pounds that came in her way. I have known her to correct a sister for being what she called: ‘too provident in laying by for future want/ and repeat the passage of the Gospel: ‘ see the lilies of the field ’—continuing the verse, and strongly emphasizing the words ‘ and not even Solomon m his glory was arrayed as one of these. I do not want provident nuns.’ At the same time she took every prudent care for the support of her institutions, and required all her superiors to do the same. She used to say that for the miracle of the loaves and fishes Our Lord required his apostles to produce the five loaves and the few fishes upon which to work the miracle, and that when they had obeyed, He multiplied beyond human calculation.” [Mrs. Aikenhead liked the sisters to be very prompt in action, and encouraged a certain ardour, but had an objection to fusses. A young sister was in a state of excitement one day about some symptoms she discovered in a patient in the hospital. “ My child,” said Rev. Mother, “ you would want to carry about a priest in one pocket and a doctor in the other.” However, when there was legitimate cause for anxiety no one was more ready than she to help the younger members in their difficulties.] “When I was employed in the visitation of the poor I took cases rather enthusiastically. On one occasion I got a call to a poor woman, whom I found in a cellar not easy to reach on account of the darkness of the passage leading down to it. She was apparently in a dying state, lying on a straw pallet with a dead child beside her, and other children playing on the flags near the bed. The poor mother was so ill and helpless she was unable to remove the dead child; nor did there appear to be any one to look after her or the children. It was Sunday, and none of the neighbours had come to the wretched abode. I was greatly struck by the state of destitution and helplessness I found the family in ; and so with my companion I tried to remove the little corpse, and make the poor sufferer more comfort¬ able by giving her some nourishment. All this took considerable time, and caused me to be beyond my appointed hour at the convent. On my return I went at once to Rev. Mother, who was staying at that house and not at the hospital. She smiled when she noticed my dis¬ tress and woe. ‘Well, my heart, what has happened?’ she asked. ‘ O Mother,’ I said, ‘ I came across such a distressing case, that I could not leave without doing something for the sufferer / and then I related to her what I had witnessed. She looked earnestly at me, and said: ‘My child, what would you wish to do for them?’ ‘O Mother, if the poor woman could be taken into St. Vincent’s Hospital HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 253 to save her life for her little family !’ ‘ By all means, my child/ she said ; ' go back and take a cab, and bring her yourself to St. Vincent’s. Tell Mother Rectress it is the Sunday of the Good Samaritan, and that I send her this poor creature in commemoration of the parable of the day.’ I did not lose much time in flying back to my poor woman and doing as I was desired. She was received into St. Vincent’s Hospital, and restored to her family. But the kind and genial manner in which the act was done was long remembered by me with gratitude. “In my young days I was much struck with the spirit of family, or union, encouraged and propagated in all our houses, especially in the convent where the Rev. Mother resided. All the members of the congregation felt themselves at home wherever she was ; for each she had a hearty welcome, and as she used to say, putting out her hand, Cead mille failthel All felt her truly the large-hearted mother, no matter what business they came on. I remember feeling this—our dear Rev. Mother’s hospitality—a great addition to my work as minis¬ tress; for I was constantly running about looking for beds for all those she would offer them to ; and as, of course, my own was the easiest got, I was constantly shifting from one shake-down to another. Some busy-body was kind enough to tell Rev. Mother this. So she sent for me one morning, and said : 'Pray, where did you sleep- last night?’ ' On such a sofa, Rev. Mother,’ I replied. 1 Why child, I hear you seldom sleep in your cell.’ 'Well, that’s true, Rev. Mother, for you are constantly offering beds to visitors when there are none to be had.’ She looked archly at me, and replied : ' Do you remember when you came to the convent you left Miss Margaret S. behind you at the gate, and that it is Mary Aikenhead you have the charge of (in your own person) ? Now, I would have you know, little woman, that I will not be thrown about from sofa to sofa every night; so that in future you’ll remember that you are not to disturb Mary Aikenhead out of her room without express permission, and that by no means are you to treat her to the worst of everything going.’ “ Her life was very suffering, but most uncomplaining. She never alluded to the torture she was enduring, except when some one of those immediately about her would say : ‘ Mother, are you in pain ?’ Then she would answer: ‘ Oh yes, child, in the greatest; but the good doctor will mend us up, and God will get another turn out of us.’ One morning, being ill, she was asked: 'How are you to-day, Mother ?’ In her own cheerful style she replied : ' Ah, how could I be, my dear child, but like a crock that you may have seen in the country tied up with cords, and kept together by careful handling. Only for the charity and attentive care of our dear sisters I should long since have come asunder. So now, that’s what your old mother is—a cracked vessel.' When she was unable to attend daily Mass from ill-health, I once asked her did she feel it a great privation. ‘ Oh yes, child, the 254 MARY AIKENHEAD : greatest; but I’ll tell you how I sanctify it, and occupy my thoughts during Holy Mass. First, I reflect how unworthy I am of being pre¬ sent at the great sacrifice of Calvary; therefore it is right He should call on me to make the greatest sacrifice I can offer Him. Then I solace myself by going in spirit to each of our convents, and uniting at each altar with the great Victim who offers Himself to his Eternal Father for us poor sinners. And I think with humility of the conde¬ scension of the great God, in making use of me, so weak an instrument, to procure his Divine Majesty so much glory. Oh, pray, child ; I ought to be a saint 1’ ” CHAPTER III. FRIENDS, ACQUAINTANCES, AND POETS. . VINCENT’S must indeed have very nearly come up to Mrs. Aikenhead’s ideal of a busy bee-hive. It was a scene of ever-varying life and movement. The doctors and their pupils going their rounds; the sisters attending to the spiritual and temporal concerns of the patients; men of business asking to see the Mother-General; distinguished strangers “doing” St. Vincent’s as one of the sights of the town; men of science inquiring how an hospital under the care of religious can work; friends coming with offers of assistance in one shape or another; and sisters arriving on various errands from the asylum or the refuge, the schools or the novitiate. As already observed, the drawing-rooms and the best bed-rooms were given up to the poor sick, while the Rev. Mother and her community inhabited the upper storey. When she was not able to leave her room, friends and visitors had of necessity to face the long ascent. Possibly strangers were not a little surprised when they reached the attic to find themselves in a spacious lightsome airy region. In the vestibule, which was floored with black and white tiles, stood a bookcase filled with choice volumes of English and French literature, fine old editions of religious works, and several productions of Irish genius and research ; while a statue of the Blessed Virgin, with pots of fuchsias or myrtles before it, occupied a prominent position at one side. A door from this vestibule opened into the Rev. Mother’s sitting-room, which, with the adjoining sleeping apartment, formed the boundary of her steps for days and weeks and even months together. There she suffered countless pains, and there she planned great things, and thence she ruled her numerous family and dependents. Whatever happened within or without, and bad news did travel up the stairs from time to time, she had one great joy as she retired to rest each night:—she knew that under the same roof HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 255 with herself were God’s afflicted creatures, and that of the sixty or eighty sick and hurt who were settled for the night in Lord Meath’s drawing-rooms there was not one who would not be the better in soul or body for the sojourn in St. Vincent’s. So many persons of every class and condition, and on every possible business, now came to visit Mrs. Aikenhead that the receiving of them was sometimes a wearisome part of the day’s duty. “I really think,” she writes, “ the new staircase must be very much easier than the old—so many folk make their way up to me; and little visits, although seemingly all on business, are a sad drawback to me—more¬ over a wearisome task by the time of dinner.” And the worst of it was, from this point of view, that the people who once made her acquaintance were generally anxious to see her again. All recognised in her a remarkable woman, and to most she was decidedly attractive. Indeed her conversation was at all times agreeable and elevating. Her early reading, and her experience in practical life, stood her now in good stead. Not alone had she lost nothing of what she gathered in youth, but she had greatly added to her intellectual store in every way. “ Her mind was well stored with useful knowledge,” says one who knew her well, “ not only in spiritual matters in which she excelled, having profited to the fullest extent by the valuable opportunities afforded her in early life of intercourse with many distinguished ecclesiastics, but also in secular learning, being well-versed in the literature of the day; so that it was a treat to converse with her. Her judgment was clear, and when after a few moments’ pause she gave an opinion it was seldom found to be erroneous. All her views were noble and generous, yet prudent, and when occasion required it vigilant and wary.” One of the first things that was sure to impress a stranger was her honesty of mind and straightforwardness of expression. She wor¬ shipped truth, and greatly admired “ beautiful simplicity and in candidates for admission to her congregation sincerity of mind was one of the first qualifications she required. “ A deep sense of truth, without quibbles,” she once wrote, “ we should be careful to ascertain in every candidate of both classes. Try that all of ours should discri¬ minate between artful and real simplicity. And, observe, that years will not give experience in any class.” Again, when some one had written a highly-coloured description of a scene or an event, Mrs. Aikenhead thus expresses herself a propos of the subject:— “ Poor M. N. wrote a flourish to her sister. I wish we could teach folk the importance of simplicity. Truth suffers always from any deviation from beautiful simplicity. That letter was in fact untrue. Embellishments are said to be natural to people from the south. Now, don’t say that I ought not to see faults in my own country—don’t tell Margaret—but, my dear, true patriotism wishes the real perfection and blessings for that country it loves. Bragging, and boasting, and egotism ought not to be allowed to grow I 256 MARY AIKENHEAD : in our gardens. Neither ought any one to be prejudiced or resentful of injuries. This poor sister owns that she is inclined to see no good in certain folk because they hate the Irish. It is not for the sin, but in as much as ego is concerned. May we learn to love the naked truth, and only hate sin, and pray for those we have reason to complain of!” Sisters of Charity are forbidden by their rule to meddle in, or hotly discuss, politics, but they are not forbidden to entertain the sentiment of patriotism. Mrs. Aikenhead’s love of country like all her affections was warm, steady, rational, and just. The Green Island which God had made so beautiful, and which the crimes of men had made a scene of desolation was the object of her enthusiastic admira¬ tion. She pitied the land as she commiserated the individual sufferers. The sorrows of the people were known to her in the pages of history, and in the hard trials of their daily existence. She grieved over them, and gave the services of a devoted life to their relief, enlisted others in the same service, and rejoiced to think that the work she had inaugurated would for generation after generation, and long after her bones had mouldered into dust, continue its beneficent course—blessing and blessed. She would excuse every failing in the poor people whose wrongs and sorrows she was so well aware of. She used to tell the sisters to make allowance for the shortcomings of those whose hardships were so great, and who were only just emerging from trials fatally calculated to bring down the standard of certain secondary virtues, even while those of a higher order might be preserved. There are lesser virtues not easily kept alive among an oppressed people, and the evils and degradation of slavery are inseparable from that state. But whatever way it might be, she taught her children to deal tenderly with the feelings and even the sins of the poor; to pity while they used every effort to amend them ; to heal and comfort the bruised and bleeding hearts that did the wrong. Yet for all that she would not allow her sympathies to be so concentrated in one object or one class as to weaken their charitable action in regard to another. Alive to every one’s trouble and ready to pour the wine and oil into every wound, she was always the Good Samaritan. Just and generous, she was ready to forgive and forget the injuries inflicted, and to soften the rancour of national animosity. Protestants she made welcome to her hospital as well as Catholics, and she did not refuse them the attendance of their own ministers, who were at liberty to visit the members of their flock, provided they confined their spiritual instruction to individuals, and did not preach to the ward. The second physician whom she appointed was Dr. Bellingham, a Protestant himself, and a member of a family at that time decidedly anti-Catholic. These facts, which in our day would hardly attract notice, were remarkable enough in her time when party animosity ran high ; when the Protestants, who were in HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 2 57 possession of most of the influential and honourable positions, were fighting every inch of the ground with the Catholics ; and when a Royal Society incorporated for the encouragement of Arts, Agricul¬ ture, and Industry in Ireland, had the effrontery to blackbean the Catholic Archbishop of Dublin when Dr. Murray was proposed for election as a member of the body. The characteristics we have just noticed sufficiently account for a certain charm which even strangers felt in Mrs. Aikenhead’s society. Her conversation was of necessity full of good sense, earnestness, cordiality, and variety. At one moment it had the breadth and power of a strong masculine understanding; at another it was full of humour and quaint expressions ; always it was to the purpose, and had the best effect on those she had intercourse with :—instinctively they came out in their best aspect when in her presence. It often happened that Mrs. Aikenhead had to receive her visitors at an early hour in the morning ; and when this was the case, breakfast would be served in her sitting-room for the friend who perhaps could get only at that time a few moments out of a busy day to talk over impor¬ tant matters. Sometimes it was a good priest who had come to say Mass in the hospital chapel, and then wanted a word with the Rev. Mother : perhaps an ecclesiastic of high standing who had grave questions to discuss ; or perhaps the chaplain of one of her institutions, a young priest fresh from college, who sought her help in some difficulty, or the strong word of counsel which she knew so well how to offer and to make acceptable. Dr. O’Ferrall himself often came thus in the morning to give her an account of the hospital affairs and talk over the cases: for in these from first to last she took the deepest interest. The afternoon visitors were of a varied character. Among them at one time was Dr. Pusey, who appears to have found a conversation with Mrs. Aikenhead more than commonly agreeable. One of his visits lasted for two hours. The Rev. Mother was intensely interested in the Oxford movement and well informed of its progress ; and was quite able to meet Dr. Pusey on his own ground. He expressed a wish to witness the ceremony of a religious profession, and Mrs. Aikenhead, who though she often invited Protestants to be present when a young lady received the habit, did not care to have such strangers present at the more solemn ceremony, willingly made an exception in his favour, and invited him to a profession in Stanhope- street, on which occasion his respectful demeanour and recollected manner much struck those who observed him. Dr., afterwards Cardinal Wiseman, who came to Dublin in 1839 to preach in the Church of St. Andrew on the day that sacred edifice was consecrated, had a long interview with Mrs. Aikenhead. The conversation was animated, and the interlocutors, it was 258 MARY AIKENHEAD : understood, thoroughly appreciated one another. Dr. Wiseman was then full of life and vigour. He astonished some of the sisters on this and subsequent occasions by the interest he took in details, and the knowledge he displayed in matters which might have been supposed outside the range of his studies or his observation. He was much attached to his cousin, Mrs. MacCarthy, who was at that time rectress of St. Vincent’s, and there was a striking likeness between them. Always welcome visitors to Mrs. Aikenhead were the Brothers of the Christian Schools. She had the highest opinion of the devoted brotherhood, and was grateful to them for the help they had kindly given in organising different schools of the Sisters of Charity, and for other acts by which they had befriended the congregation. It pleased her greatly whenever she heard that the Christian Brothers and the Sisters of Charity lent a hand to each other in their good works. Mr. Leonard and Mr. Rice used to visit her when they came to town, and often rejoiced her heart by letting her see how highly they thought of the sisters in Cork, and how willing the brethren were to assist that community in any difficulties which they might have to contend with. As the good fortune as well as the good works of others gratified her extremely, she was always delighted to hear that the brotherhood were enabled by the gifts of the benevolent to carry on their under¬ takings and extend their sphere. In a letter written in 1835 to the rectress in Cork, Mrs. Aikenhead says : “ Your news of good Dr. John Barry’s Will in favour of the worthy and pious Brothers of the Christian Schools raised my heart to love our good God, and to praise His holy name. My faith, my hope, my charity, have been increased, and I assure you that this circumstance, added to that of Mr. Rice having also been left a sum of seven or eight thousand pounds, has been a source of very great consolation to me.” A future Christian Brother, Gerald Griffin, made his appearance from time to time, coming to St. Vincent’s to visit his sister who was a novice in the congregation, and to pay his respects to Mrs. Aikenhead. The first time he saw the Rev. Mother his sister was all anxiety to know what he thought of the woman whom she loved and revered so much. But wayward Gerald was not in a communicative mood, and all he would say was, “She’ll do !” HoweveV, Sister M. Baptist, if she could not coax her brother into a panegyric, had the consolation on another occasion of hearing Mrs. Aikenhead’s superiority acknowledged by Mr. Rice, who was then novice master of the Christian Brothers, and who went with Gerald to visit at St. Vincent’s. “ She is such a woman,” said Mr. Rice, “ as God raises up once perchance in a hundred years, when there is a great work to be done.” Gerald did not dissent, and his sister had to be satisfied with this negative approval, and give up the hope of a burst of eloquence from the HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 259 author of “ The Collegians.” This dear sister, being of a timid nature and very humble in her own conceit, persuaded herself that she was indebted to Mrs. Aikenhead’s regard for her brother for the happiness of being received into the congregation and kept in it. Gerald Griffin’s opinion of the congregation was already made known to the world in his poem of “ The Sister of Charity.” One of the poet’s friends, having heard that he had joined the Christian Brothers, was under the apprehension that he would find it a great trial to be in constant intercourse with persons who, it was supposed, from not being of high rank or classically educated were in a great measure uneducated and unrefined. Sister M. Baptist men¬ tioned this one day to Gerald who was then a novice of the brother¬ hood. He declared he did not find it so at all. “ It is wonderful,” he said, “ how religion refines people.” The priesthood would not have satisfied his desire for self-abnegation. “ A priest in the world,” he once remarked to his sister, “ has as much of his own will as any layman.” He wanted to immolate his ’will as well as to sacrifice every energy of his body and mind to God. He found what he sought in the Brotherhood of the Christian Schools—a life of humble, useful labour, a life hidden in God. Mrs. Aikenhead did not see much of Gerald after he entered the noviceship, but she took a deep interest in all that concerned him, and his works had a place in her book-case. One day there came another poet to St. Vincent’s ; not indeed to pay his respects to Mrs. Aikenhead, but to seek rest and healing in her hospital with the poor and the ungifted. A pale, ghost-like creature, with snow-white hair tossed over his lordly forehead and falling lankly on either side of a face handsome in outline, bloodless, and wrinkled though not with age, James Clarence Mangan was carried up to St. Patrick’s ward and laid in a nice fresh bed. His weird blue eyes, distraught with the opium eater’s dreams, closed beneath their heavy lids, and his head fell back in sleep just as it is pictured fallen back in death by Frederick William Burton’s magic pencil. 1 The change from poor Mangan’s wretched garret to the comforts of the hospital ward was fully appreciated by the sufferer, who, however, did not pour forth his gratitude in a tide of song : “ Oh, the luxury of clean sheets !” he exclaimed. Nor, indeed, did the sisters recognise in their patient the charm of one who had drunk of Hippocrene. All they could discover of the poetic organisation in the strange, sad man, was the acutely sensitive and painfully restless temperament supposed to be a characteristic of genius. The author of the “ German and Irish Anthologies” was in truth a rather troublesome patient. One * In the National Gallery, Dublin, may be seen a drawing in crayons of the poet’s head, taken after death by his gifted countryman. 26 o MARY AIKENHEAD : of the sisters, willing to excuse his peculiarities, simply remarked: “ those poets have nerves at every pore/’ However, the poet of the Sisters of Charity was not Moore, though his heart was touched and his bright eyes were moistened as he went through St. Vincent’s wards ; nor Gerald Griffin, though he did sing well of their sacrifice and their labour ; nor Clarence Mangan, albeit tended by their careful hands, and nourished by their bounty. Their laureate was Richard Dalton Williams, whose truly religious mind was deeply affected by the example of the sisters of the hospital, whom he watched in their daily round of pious and laborious duties ; whose poetic insight recognised the beauty and the nobleness of their mission ; whose genius found its inspiration in the motive that spiritualised their every act; and whose best productions include a song in their praise, a poem inspired by an incident he witnessed in the wards, and hymns that he wrote or translated for their use. When the Sisters of Charity first became acquainted with their future laureate he was a medical student attending St. Vincent’s Hospital, and a pupil of Dr. Bellingham. He was noticeable only for his diligent attention, and his gentle, unobtrusive manner. Mrs. Aiken- head was at that time about to print a small book of hymns for her schools, and a manual of prayers for the use of the congregation. Her trusted child and friend, Sister M. C., received some charge connected with this undertaking, and found herself much at a loss in the matter of certain little poems which she thought needed revision by a competent hand. Some one told her that she need not look beyond the hospital for the assistance she needed ; for there was a poet among the students. Hearing this she repaired with the grateful intelligence to the Rev. Mother, who in her decisive, off-hand manner said to her : “Well, my heart, go and find him out.” Further inquiry led to the identification of the poet in the person of Richard Dalton Williams, a shy young man who spoke but little, and rarely lifted his eyes or even his spectacles in the presence of the Sisters of Charity ; but who had written some fiery war-songs and was known as “ Shamrock” of the Nation . Acting on her warrant, Sister M. C. watches her opportunity ; the poet-student is informed that one of the nuns wants to speak to him, and he is shown into the operation-room. Sister M. C. tells him she hears he is a poet; and he, blushing, owns the soft impeachment. She asks him would he have the kindness to look over a little poem, and see whether it might be sent to press? He answers that he will indeed do so with pleasure, and that he would be glad to write something for the Sisters of Charity, if anything special suggested itself. The little poem received the necessary amendment, and Sister M. C. encouraged by the poet’s amiability tells him in another interview that the Sisters of Charity are about to bring out a “ Manual of Prayers” for their own HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 261 use, and would like to have in it a new version of the Stabat Mater. Would Mr. Williams also do this for them? “Oh, impossible!” cries the poet: “ Clarence Mangan tried it the other day, and utterly failed.” “Nevermind Clarence Mangan,” urged the sister. “And, besides,” added the poet, “ one should be very holy to do that; a man should get himself into a particular frame of mind for that sort of work.” “ Exactly so ; but is not that just what we want you to do?” suggested Sister M. C. Mr. Williams overcame his objections and difficulties; the Stabat Mater , the Dies Irce ) the Adoro Te Devote were translated and inserted in the “ Manual;” and an original poem, “ Teach me, O God,” was written for the sisters, and first appeared in their little hymn book. About the same time he wrote his beautiful poem, “ The Dying Girl,” the inspiration of which he found in St. Vincent’s, whither they had brought “ an Ormond peasant daughter, with blue eyes and golden hair,” who, pining in the city for the pure and balmy air of her native vale, faded slowly, and could not, for all their tender care, be saved from death :— “ When I saw her first reclining, Her lips were moved in pray’r, And the setting sun was shining On her loosened golden hair. When our kindly glances met her, Deadly brilliant was her eye, And she said that she was better, While we knew that she must die.” She speaks of Munster valleys, and of the innocent joys of country life, the pattern, dance, and fair. They listen with quiet care to her breathing, and her eyes glisten with wonder as to what all that may mean :— “We said that we were trying, By the gushing other blood, And the time she took in sighing, To know if she were good.” She smiles and gaily talks; old tunes linger in her memory; she beats time with her wasted fingers, and bows her golden head:— “ At length the harp is broken, And the spirit in its strings, As the last decree is spoken, To its source exulting springs. Descending swiftly from the sides, Her guardian angel came, He struck God’s lightning from her eyes And bore Him back the flame.” While pursuing his medical studies the poet kept up his connexion 262 MARY AIKENHEAD : with the Nation , whose ardent politics and literary merit were highly attractive to “ Shamrock.” His contributions were not confined to songs of love and war; he composed a series of humorous poems entitled “ Misadventures of a Medical Student,” which described among other things the flights of the young gentleman with an imaginary Miss Jessy through the constellations: It was not to be expected that Sisters of Charity would admire lucubrations of this sort; but Sister M. C., talking one day to Mrs. Aikenhead about the poet-student, wound up her remarks by observing that she must be very much mistaken, indeed, if there was not a great deal of good in that young man. “ Get at it then, my dear ! ” said the Rev. Mother in her downright practical way. There were many talks, after that, on the lobbies and in the corridors, between Mr. Williams and his gentle mentor. From poetry and politics they advanced to Spiritual subjects. One day he came to tell her that he had thought over what she said to him, and had made up his mind to begin a new life by making a retreat. “ And where are you going to make your retreat?” asked Sister M. C. “ To Mount Melleray,” replied the poet. “You shall do no such thing,” said she. “We don’t want to make a monk of you, but a good Christian gentleman of the world : go to Clongowes.” It is recorded of Dalton Williams that “ he reverenced the Sisters of Charity more than he loved the Muses;” that he was “even more ready to visit the sick and dying than to join the not unfrequent simposia of his literary and political friends,” 1 and that he was known to leave for covering on the bed of a poor sick woman, whom he was called on to visit, the inner and outer coats he had brought with him, and to return home on a winter night in his shirt sleeves. 2 His reverence for his friends at St. Vincent’s is expressed in a pencilled memorandum, wherein, among the graces he received from God, and which he thought would probably have made anyone else a saint, he counted the constant sight of the Sisters of Charity . 3 However, he has left a more enduring memorial of his friends and exemplars, in his beautiful poem, “ The Sister of Charity,” which appeared in the Nation, August 22, 1846. Much praise has been bestowed on it; and yet it is doubtful if any words of appreciation touched the author as much as Mrs. Aikenhead’s would have done had he heard them. A collection of poems, including Mr. Williams’s “ Sister of Charity,” made its appearance, having, as it happened, a lilac cover. The Rev. Mother sends this book to one of her convents, and in an accom¬ panying letter says: “ Do not be disedified by the lilac book. I 1 Preface to the collected “ Poems of R. D. Williams.” 2 The Nation, December 23, 1876. (Supplement.) 3 The Irish Monthly, vol. v., p. 393. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 263 never meant that (Mr. Williams’s “Sister of Charity”) to be printed. However, it was done without consent asked or given. You must say to each dear sister that it is a very true picture of what we ought to be; and let each read it to rouse her to mend everything which can oppose our being perfect when she sees what is expected from us. No one not being really a proficient in virtue could or can ever exhibit such an exterior as would come up to this picture.” Although the poem is well known, we must give it—its place is fitly here :— “ Sister of Charity! gentle and dutiful, Loving as seraphim, tender and mild, In humbleness strong, and in purity beautiful, In spirit heroic, in manners a child ; Ever thy love, like an angel, reposes With hovering wings o’er the sufferer here, Till the arrows of death are half hidden in roses, And hope, speaking prophecy, smiles on the bier. When life like a vapour is slowly retiring, As clouds in the dawning to heaven uprolled, Thy prayer, like a herald, precedes him expiring, And the cross on thy bosom his last looks behold. And, oh! as the Spouse to thy words of love listens, What hundredfold blessings descend on thee then ! Thus the flower-absorbed dew in the bright iris glistens, And returns to the lilies more richly again. Sister of Charity ! child of the Holiest! Oh ! for thy loving soul, ardent as pure ! Mother of orphans, and friend of the lowliest! Stay of the wretched, the guilty, the poor ! The embrace of the Godhead so plainly enfolds thee, Sanctity’s halo so shrines thee around, Daring the eye that unshrinking beholds thee, Nor droops in thy presence abashed to the ground. Dim is the fire of the sunniest blushes Burning the breast of the maidenly rose, To the exquisite bloom that thy pale beauty flushes When the incense ascends and the sanctuary glows, And the music, that seems heaven’s language, is pealing— Adoration has bowed him in silence and sighs, And man, intermingled with angels, is feeling The passionless rapture that comes from the skies. Oh ! that this heart, whose unspeakable treasure Of love hath been wasted so vainly on clay, Like thine, unallured by the phantom of pleasure, Could rend every earthly affection away! And yet, in thy presence, the billows, subsiding, Obey the strong effort of reason and will; And my soul, in her pristine tranquillity gliding, Is calm as when God bade the ocean be still! Thy soothing, how gentle ! thy pity, how tender ! Choir-music thy voice is, thy step angel-grace, And thy union with Deity shrines in a splendour Subdued, but unearthly, thy spiritual face. 264 MARY AIKENHEAD : When the frail chains are broken a captive that bound thee Afar from thy home in the prison of clay, Bride of the Lamb! and Earth’s shadows around thee Disperse in the blaze of eternity’s day ; Still mindful, as now, of the sufferer’s story, Arresting the thunders of wrath e’er they roll, Intervene, as a cloud, between us and his glory, And shield from his lightnings the shuddering soul; And mild, as the moonbeams in autumn descending, That lightning, extinguished by mercy, shall fall, While He hears, with the wail of a penitent blending, Thy prayer, holy daughter of Vincent de Paul! Mr. Williams having become one of the registered proprietors of the Irish Tribune newspaper, was speedily implicated in the troubles of 1848. One day word was brought to the Sisters of Charity that the Tribune had been suppressed, and that the poet was in Newgate awaiting his trial for treason-felony. Sister M. C. wrote to him, trying to cheer him, and suggesting some literary work to soothe his troubled mind ; but he can do nothing, he tells her, in the midst of such a dreadful din. On the 2nd of November, he was brought up for trial, on the accusation of having compassed, imagined, or intended to depose and levy war against the Queen by the publication of certain articles in the Tribune. One of his counsel, a brother poet, Mr. Samuel Ferguson, found it necessary to defend the traverser from the charges of socialism and infidelity. This he did in an eloquent speech, in the course of which he referred to his client’s connection with “ one of the best and most useful charitable institutions existing in the cityand the employment of his pen “ in embodying the purest aspirations of religion in sublime and beautiful poetry.” He read in court “ The Sister of Charity.” The jury, though packed with great care, returned a verdict of not guilty, and the traverser was released. By this time whatever resources he once may have had were gone, and he was reduced almost to a state of starvation. His good friends the Sisters of Charity found means to assist him, kept up his spirits, and strongly recommended him to emigrate. He made up his mind to do so, and eventually sailed for the United States. Old friends at home were not forgotten. Letters, full of humorous touches, arrived at St. Vincent’s giving an account of his various experiences and adventures in the Western World. After many wanderings he married and settled in New Orleans, practising his profession, not neglecting literature, and cherishing a noble ambition which he was not spared long enough to achieve. What this was, may be inferred from the following passage 1 of a letter which breaks off suddenly at 1 Given in the last of a series of papers, entitled, “ Relics of Richard Dalton Williams,” in the Irish Monthly, vol. v., p. 398. HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 265 these words, and was never sent to the person to whom it was addressed : “ In a book recently published at London they have ranked me with the Catholic poets. I have no higher ambition than to deserve the title, for which as yet I have, alas! done little or nothing. But if heaven spare and bless me, and the duties of my state in life permit it, I hope to do some¬ thing to consecrate the harp to the same holy purpose as those of ‘ the Victors who stand on the sea of glass, having the harps of God.’ ( Apoc . xv.)” While the civil war was raging and the armies of the Federalists were overrunning the Southern States, Mr. Williams was seized with a haemorrhage of the lungs, and died alter a few days’ illness at Thibo¬ deaux, Louisiana, in the month of July, 1862. He was buried in the little cemetery of the town, and over his grave was placed a frail memorial bearing his name and the date of his death. Shortly after this some companies of the New Hampshire Volunteers, composed almost exclusively of Irishmen, lying encamped in the neighbourhood, heard of the death of “Shamrock ” of the Nation, learned the place of interment, and resolved to erect over the grave of their gifted countryman a more suitable monument. The soldiers subscribed liberally, and one of the captains having got leave of absence to visit New Orleans, procured there a stone of pure Carara marble with a pedestal of the same material. On the slab was cut in relief a sprig of shamrock, beneath which a suitable inscription was engraved. In the haste befitting a time of peril and uncertainty, the Irish soldiers’ loving work was done. “ A few days previous to its accomplishment they had been engaged in a desperate combat with some of the Confederate troops, and shortly after they were marched away to other fields of action. In the peaceful interval they had raised this beautiful and enduring monument to the memory of one of the sweetest singers of their native land.” 1 Thomas D’Arcy M'Gee has commemorated this touching incident in words destined to be more enduring even than that slab of pure Carara marble. In a poem of six verses he has pictured the scene as “ the lion-hearted brother-band ” knelt and prayed round the monument they made “ for him who sang the Fatherland.” Let us bid farewell to the Sisters’ laureate with four of these verses :— “ God bless the brave ! the brave alone Were worthy to have done the deed, A soldier’s hand has raised the stone, Another traced the lines men read ; Another set the guardian rail Above thy minstrel—Innisfail! *• * # * ‘ Preface to the “ Poems of Richard D. Williams.” 19 266 MARY AIKENHEAD : “ True have ye writ, ye fond and leal, And, if the lines would stand so long, Until the archangel’s trumpet peal Should wake the silent son of song, Broad on his breast he still might wear The praises ye have planted there ! “ Let it be told to old and young, At home, abroad, at fire, at fair ; Let it be written, spoken, sung, Let it be-sculptured, pictured fair, How the young braves stood, weeping, round Their exiled Poet’s ransom’d mound! * * * * “ Sing on, ye gifted ! never yet Has such a spirit sung in vain ; No change can teach us to forget The burden of that deathless strain. Be true like him, and to your graves Time yet shall lead his youthful braves!” CHAPTER IV. MEETINGS—PARTINGS—EVERY-DAY LIFE AND LESSONS. UT while dignitaries and doctors, poets and strangers, ascended the stairs leading to Mrs. Aikenhead’s apart¬ ment in high latitudes—would that the sun had photo¬ graphed them as they passed processionally upwards !— her own dear friends of earlier times were not missing o from the crowd. The O'Briens, and the Simpsons, and Miss Denis, for example, might constantly be seen ascending and descending the Jacob’s ladder between the hospital proper and the sisters’ domicile. Richard, the head of the Simpson family, a man of fine character and considerable mental power, w'as now the Rev. Mother’s law adviser; his brothers Stephen and Thomas, and his sister Helen, were constant visitors—sympathetic and helpful. With Mrs. O’Brien came beauty and fashion to St. Vincent’s. A stranger meeting her on an afternoon, as in elegant array she crossed the corridor, might naturally wonder what brought such a figure as hers into a hospital. But truth to say, she was sometimes to be seen plainly enough attired, and it was only when on her way to or from some place of fashionable resort, or when she called in the course of a round of visits, that she appeared in such splendour. It was by no means necessary for her to return home and change her dress before going to her dear Mary Aikenhead, who knew as well as anyone T. CRANFIELD AND CO , DUBLIN. % \ - * HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 267 what is due to one’s position in the world, who liked to see the bienseances attended to, and who could give the very best opinion as to what was tasteful, elegant, and appropriate in dress as well as in many other things. Mrs. O’Brien was regarded as a saint by those who knew her ; but her spirit of religion did not lead her to shut her¬ self up as a recluse. Her object in mixing in the world was to uphold the Catholic cause, and to prove that religion does not prevent people maintaining their social position. At the same time she was unflinch¬ ingly faithful to her obligations as a child of Holy Church. She was prominent in every charitable and religious work. The orphanages and other institutions founded at that time in the city of Dublin owed their being chiefly to Mrs. O’Brien’s exertions, personal labours, and generous contributions. She spent Sunday teaching the catechism to the poor children in the different chapels, and tried to induce other ladies to join her in this work. But, as we already know, the Stanhope-street House of Refuge was Mrs. O’Brien’s favourite institution. The saving of youth from the snares of vice was one of the first good works to which she devoted her time and energy, and experience only confirmed her in the belief that one of the most blessed of institutions was that in which unpro¬ tected girls were received and trained to religion and industry. One case especially made a vivid impression on her, and she referred to it in after years as a source of great joy to her through life. It hap¬ pened that in the Jervis-street hospital, which she visited regularly long before Catholic ladies were accustomed to attend the sick in such places, a poor woman was slowly dying. One day Mrs. O’Brien noticed the sufferer looking sadder than usual, and asked was there anything on her mind ? had she not seen the priest and received the last sacraments ? The poor creature said : “ O yes, my lady ; but my heart is breaking. I cannot reconcile myself to die when I think of my poor children.” Mrs. O’Brien said: “ What is it that distresses you? Can I do anything to make you die happy?” The woman looked fixedly at her visitor, and said : “ I fear not, my lady. I have three daughters living with an uncle who has by this time, I am sure, turned them out on the street. O God! if they be lost; how can I die happy !” Mrs. O’Brien asked where the children were to be beard of, and immediately went in search of them. She found matters just as the poor mother had stated ; the children had been turned out on the street, and were starving and perishing with cold. She carried them at once to Stanhope-street and settled them in a comfortable home there. Then she returned to the poor woman, who was in a state of great agitation, and approaching her she said: “ My poor woman, all is right. I have found your children. I have taken them to the House of Refuge in Stanhope-street, where they will be educated, instructed in the Faith, and taught to earn their bread 268 MARY AIKENHEAD: respectably.” The poor woman, in a transport of delight, fixed her eyes on Mrs. O’Brien, and said: “ May God bless you, and open heaven for youand then, with the sweetest expression passing over her countenance, she gave up her soul to God. In the management of the extern business of the Stanhope-street establishment, Mrs. O’Brien proved herself one of the most indefa¬ tigable fellow-workers of the Rev. Mother, who would receive her friend of early days even at times when no one else might be shown up to her room. They seemed to have the same thoughts, the same unbounded zeal for the salvation of souls, the same untiring spirit of labour, the same nobility of mind. Mrs. O’Brien had implicit trust in her friend’s affection and judgment, confided to her all her joys and sorrows, taking her advice in temporal matters and her direction in spiritual affairs. It was said by one who was intimately acquainted with both, that : “ It elevated one’s idea of the noble works of God to see these two great women together.” They had been considered in their earlier days to bear a striking resemblance to one another, and sometimes were taken for sisters. Mrs. Aikenhead, however, had more sweetness in countenance and manner: she might occasionally be somewhat impetuous ; Mrs. O’Brien could now and then be im¬ perious. There was a strange meeting of friends at St. Vincent’s in 1843, when Mrs. Lynch—Sister Ignatius—of St. Clare’s Convent, came to sojourn for a little while with the companion of her youth, and receive the benefit of Dr. O’Ferrall’s skill in the treatment of a painful and dangerous disease. The arrival of this unexpected guest is thus announced by Mrs. Aikenhead in a letter to the rectress of the Cork Convent:— “I cannot write long, yet I must tell you an unlooked-for circumstance : it is truly so in every sense. We have here with us Mrs. Lynch of Harold’s Cross, in hopes of averting cancer of the breast. Yet I fear it is over-late. I was not aware of the extremity of the symptoms until Tuesday last, and had a request from our venerated archbishop as soon as his grace was informed of the state of this long-tried and faithful servant of the poor, to hope we could manage to receive her and try what the success of the Divine blessing may effect by her treatment at St. Vincent’s. On Thursday his grace wrote an order to the Mother Abbess of St. Clare’s for the removal, and on Saturday it was effected. As I said, I fear too late, yet the tumour seems to be of a nature which might have been dispersed by timely treatment. We must leave all this in the great spirit of holy conformity. His grace came to visit our guest yesterday, and thanks to Almighty good¬ ness was as vigorous as I ever saw him. After having arranged all, he went down to Elm Green, our friend Mr. Simpson’s place ; and when Richard, our constant friend, found that his favourite charity, St. Vincent’s, could and did afford a resource to his old and beloved friend—for such is Mrs. Lynch—he requested Helen to bring me one of the prettiest notes I ever received, with an enclosure of twenty pounds, and a request that I would tell his dear friend that whilst St. Vincent’s was her habitation, he claimed to be her banker.” HER LIFE, HER WORK, AND HER FRIENDS. 269 As the fatal disease had not passed an early stage, Mrs. Lynch was not confined to bed, nor did she suffer much pain. The doctor did all that could possibly be done, and to Mrs. Aikenhead it was a comfort to tend for a while the patient sufferer, whose sojourn with the community was often referred to in after years by the sisters. It was about the strangest event that could have happened in the life of a. member of a strictly enclosed Order such as that of the Poor Clares. Mrs. Lynch had not seen the Mary Aikenhead of former days for possibly thirty years ; and now she found herself domesticated with the long-parted friend, saw her surrounded with a host of fellow- workers, with a multitude of the poor under her capacious roof, and having the great dream of her youth fully realised. Between the vivid memory of the past, and the solid reality of the present, Sister Ignatius was sometimes bewildered ; and when she observed the Rev. Mother’s commanding presence, and heard her orders given in the voice of authority, she would say in amazement: “ Can this be gentle Mary Aikenhead ?” Yet, during her stay at St. Vincent’s she had the sorrow of seeing how great a sufferer the Rev. Mother was. In addition to her now chronic infirmities Mrs. Aikenhead had at this time an attack of the lungs and a racking cough, such as, she said, she never had in all her life. In a letter dated the Eve of the Ascen¬ sion, several weeks after Mrs. Lynch’s arrival at St. Vincent’s, the Rev. Mother thus alludes to her own delicacy of health, and speaks of her guest:— “ I must avail myself of the first moment in which I could write to you. So, unless the holy feast has sent you direct to take your place in the heavenly mansions, I shall beg of you to unite poor heavy me in your ardent petitions, that we may prepare fitly for receiving a plenitude of those divine gifts which will not be denied to true religious, or true penitents, in the approaching great and holy Feast of Pentecost. We have need to pray, and to labour, and to suffer, for these are days of trial. As to my attack of influenza, it was not slight, and proved very tedious. Now I am in my usual way, with plenty to fill up more time than my infirmities allow me. If I be Only faithful in the space granted to me it will suffice. Of course we want prayers; but I am induced to ask for charitable aid for my old and truly edifying friend from St. Clare’s convent, who, I think you are aware, has been with us in the hope of averting the painful disease of cancer, if it be the Divine will to spare her longer, even in her present state of delicacy (for that very suffering malady is not by any means in an advanced state in her case). It seems to all informed on the subject, that her life being pro¬ longed is calculated to be of advantage to the community of which she has been an efficient member. Fiat voluntas Tua. Amen. It is the wish of our dear and venerated archbishop in accordance with the opinion of our physi¬ cian (Dr O’Ferrall) that she should remain a while longer at St. Vincent’s.” After a residence of some months at the hospital, where she received all the aid that medical skill and tender care could bestow, Mrs. Lynch returned to St. Clare’s convent, where she breathed her last on the 12th of March, 1846. MARY AIKENHEAD : 27O Although Mrs. Aikenhead was seldom able to visit the Novitiate in Stanhope-street, the rising generation of the Sisters of Charity were not personally unknown to her. Candidates for admission were, as a matter of course, seen by her many times previous to their entering the noviceship. Before profession, the young sisters were frequently sent to St. Vincent’s, where they were under the Rev. Mother’s eye, and had their disposition and capacity well tested in the employments they were put to. The novices, while at St. Vincent’s, wore the black veil of the professed sisters so as not to attract the special attention of patients and visitors. The cross and ring were the only insignia missing from their costume. The Rev. Mother naturally took the deepest interest in these young sisters, and spared no pains in training the heads and hearts and hands that were to be employed in God’s work. She would let nothing defective pass in them that she could amend. A sound reprehension would sometimes be administered with telling effect, but generally a quaint observation, or a striking illustration of the lesson to be enforced, or a serious word with a humorous turn, answered all the purposes of a lengthened lecture. Whether in the words themselves, or in the manner, there was something impressive; so that her expressions, though so simple, were remembered, and could be repeated twenty or thirty years after they were uttered. The sisters who were novices and in St. Vincent’s during the latter years of Mrs. Aikenhead’s residence there, retain the most vivid recollection of her words, and of herself personally. She was constantly telling them they should try to cultivate any good gift that God bestowed on them, since it was for His own glory and work He gave it. They should keep their wits about them. They should not walk through the streets with their eyes cast down, so as not to know where they were going ; on the contrary, they were to make it their business to know. In fine, she used to say, “we don’t want children here, we want young women who have sense, and know how to use it.” At their prayers, at least when said in church or in the presence of others, she liked them to kneel erect, and did not approve of bent heads, unless at the most solemn moments of the Mass, or Benediction. Those who did foolish or stupid things under the idea that they were cultivating piety she called “ holy pokers.” They were her special aversion. Her spirit of perfection was to do everything in its proper place, and to give each action its due com¬ pleteness, that each might be fit to appear before God. Consequently she would not have her nuns pray when they ought to work : they should unite the two sisters of Bethania so perfectly that one should not interfere with the other; nor would she have any spirit of recol¬ lection that would impede the performance of appointed duties.