{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_55518/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_55518","id":"gutenberg_55518","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55518","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - Other","Category: Humour","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Ireland -- Periodicals"],"text":"THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL.\n\n        NUMBER 50.       SATURDAY, JUNE 12, 1841.       VOLUME I.\n\n[Illustration: THE IRISH PROPHECY MAN.]\n\nBY WILLIAM CARLETON.\n\nThe individual to whom the heading of this article is uniformly applied,\nstands, among the lower classes of his countrymen in a different light\nand position from any of those previous characters that we have already\ndescribed to our readers. The intercourse which _they_ maintain with the\npeople is one that simply involves the means of procuring subsistence for\nthemselves by the exercise of their professional skill, and their powers\nof contributing to the lighter enjoyments and more harmless amusements of\ntheir fellow-countrymen. All the collateral influences they possess, as\narising from the hold which the peculiar nature of this intercourse gives\nthem, generally affect individuals only on those minor points of feeling\nthat act upon the lighter phases of domestic life. They bring little to\nsociety beyond the mere accessories that are appended to the general\nmodes of life and manners, and consequently receive themselves as strong\nan impress from those with whom they mingle, as they communicate to them\nin return.\n\nNow, the Prophecy Man presents a character far different from all this.\nWith the ordinary habits of life he has little sympathy. The amusements\nof the people are to him little else than vanity, if not something worse.\nHe despises that class of men who live and think only for the present,\nwithout ever once performing their duties to posterity, by looking into\nthose great events that lie in the womb of futurity. Domestic joys or\ndistresses do not in the least affect him, because the man has not to\ndo with feelings or emotions, but with principles. The speculations in\nwhich he indulges, and by which his whole life and conduct are regulated,\nplace him far above the usual impulses of humanity. He cares not much\nwho has been married or who has died, for his mind is, in point of\ntime, communing with unborn generations upon affairs of high and solemn\nimport. The past, indeed, is to him something, the future every thing;\nbut the present, unless when marked by the prophetic symbols, little\nor nothing. The topics of his conversation are vast and mighty, being\nnothing less than the fate of kingdoms, the revolution of empires, the\nruin or establishment of creeds, the fall of monarchs, or the rise and\nprostration of principalities and powers. How can a mind thus engaged\ndescend to those petty subjects of ordinary life which engage the common\nattention? How could a man hard at work in evolving out of prophecy\nthe subjugation of some hostile state, care a farthing whether Loghlin\nRoe\u2019s daughter was married to Gusty Given\u2019s son, or not? The thing is\nimpossible. Like fame, the head of the Prophecy Man is always in the\nclouds, but so much higher up as to be utterly above the reach of any\nintelligence that does not affect the fate of nations. There is an old\nanecdote told of a very high and a very low man meeting. \u201cWhat news down\nthere?\u201d said the tall fellow. \u201cVery little,\u201d replied the other: \u201cwhat\nkind of weather have you above?\u201d Well indeed might the Prophecy Man ask\nwhat news there is below for his mind seldom leaves those a\u00ebrial heights\nfrom which it watches the fate of Europe and the shadowing forth of\nfuture changes.\n\nThe Prophecy Man--that is, he who solely devotes himself to an anxious\nobservation of those political occurrences which mark the signs of the\ntimes, as they bear upon the future, the principal business of whose life\nit is to associate them with his own prophetic theories--is now a rare\ncharacter in Ireland. He was, however, a very marked one. The Shanahus\nand other itinerant characters had, when compared with him, a very\nlimited beat indeed. Instead of being confined to a parish or a barony,\nthe bounds of the Prophecy Man\u2019s travels were those of the kingdom\nitself; and indeed some of them have been known to make excursions to the\nHighlands of Scotland, in order if possible to pick up old prophecies,\nand to make themselves, by cultivating an intimacy with the Scottish\nseers, capable of getting a clearer insight into futurity, and surer\nrules for developing the latent secrets of time.\n\nOne of the heaviest blows to the speculations of this class was the\ndownfall and death of Bonaparte, especially the latter. There are still\nliving, however, those who can get over this difficulty, and who will\nnot hesitate to assure you, with a look of much mystery, that the real\n\u201cBonyparty\u201d is alive and well, and will make his due appearance _when\nthe time comes_; he who surrendered himself to the English being but an\naccomplice of the true one.\n\nThe next fact, and which I have alluded to in treating of the Shanahus,\nis the failure of the old prophecy that a George the Fourth would never\nsit on the throne of England. His coronation and reign, however, puzzled\nour prophets sadly, and indeed sent adrift for ever the pretensions of\nthis prophecy to truth.\n\nBut that which has nearly overturned the system, and routed the whole\nprophetic host, is the failure of the speculations so confidently put\nforward by Dr Walmsey in his General History of the Christian Church,\nvulgarly called Pastorini\u2019s Prophecy, he having assumed the name\nPastorini as an _incognito_ or _nom de guerre_. The theory of Pastorini\nwas, that Protestantism and all descriptions of heresy would disappear\nabout the year eighteen hundred and twenty-five, an inference which he\ndrew with considerable ingenuity and learning from Scriptural prophecy,\ntaken in connexion with past events, and which he argued with all the\nzeal and enthusiasm of a theorist naturally anxious to see the truth\nof his own prognostications verified. The failure of this, which was\ntheir great modern standard, has nearly demolished the political seers\nas a class, or compelled them to fall back upon the more antiquated\nrevelations ascribed to St Columkill, St Bridget, and others.\n\nHaving thus, as is our usual custom, given what we conceive to be such\npreliminary observations as are necessary to make both the subject and\nthe person more easily understood, we shall proceed to give a short\nsketch of the only Prophecy Man we ever saw who deserved properly to\nbe called so, in the full and unrestricted sense of the term. This\nindividual\u2019s name was Barney M\u2019Haighery, but in what part of Ireland\nhe was born I am not able to inform the reader. All I know is, that he\nwas spoken of on every occasion as The Prophecy Man; and that, although\nhe could not himself read, he carried about with him, in a variety\nof pockets, several old books and manuscripts that treated upon his\nfavourite subject.\n\nBarney was a tall man, by no means meanly dressed; and it is necessary to\nsay that he came not within the character or condition of a mendicant.\nOn the contrary, he was considered as a person who must be received\nwith respect, for the people knew perfectly well that it was not with\nevery farmer in the neighbourhood he would condescend to sojourn. He had\nnothing of the ascetic and abstracted meagreness of the Prophet in his\nappearance. So far from that, he was inclined to corpulency; but, like\na certain class of fat men, his natural disposition was calm, but at\nthe same time not unmixed with something of the pensive. His habits of\nthinking, as might be expected, were quiet and meditative; his personal\nmotions slow and regular; and his transitions from one resting-place to\nanother never of such length during a single day as to exceed ten miles.\nAt this easy rate, however, he traversed the whole kingdom several times;\nnor was there probably a local prophecy of any importance in the country\nwith which he was not acquainted. He took much delight in the greater and\nlesser prophets of the Old Testament: but his heart and soul lay, as he\nexpressed it, \u201cin the Revelations of St John the Divine.\u201d\n\nHis usual practice was, when the family came home at night from their\nlabour, to stretch himself upon two chairs, his head resting upon the\nhob, with a boss for a pillow, his eyes closed, as a proof that his mind\nwas deeply engaged with the matter in hand. In this attitude he got some\none to read the particular prophecy upon which he wished to descant; and\na most curious and amusing entertainment it generally was to hear the\ntext, and his own singular and original commentaries upon it. That he\nmust have been often hoaxed by wags and wits, was quite evident from the\nstartling travesties of the text which had been put into his mouth, and\nwhich, having been once put there, his tenacious memory never forgot.\n\nThe fact of Barney\u2019s arrival in the neighbourhood soon went abroad, and\nthe natural consequence was, that the house in which he thought proper\nto reside for the time became crowded every night as soon as the hours\nof labour had passed, and the people got leisure to hear him. Having\nthus procured him an audience, it is full time that we should allow the\nfat old Prophet to speak for himself, and give us all an insight into\nfuturity.\n\n\u201cBarney, ahagur,\u201d the good man his host would say, \u201chere\u2019s a lot o\u2019 the\nneighbours come to hear a whirrangue from you on the Prophecies; and,\nsure, if you can\u2019t give it to them, who is there to be found that can?\u201d\n\n\u201cThroth, Paddy Traynor, although I say it that should not say it, there\u2019s\ntruth in that, at all evints. The same knowledge has cost me many a weary\nblisthur an\u2019 sore heel in huntin\u2019 it up an\u2019 down, through mountain an\u2019\nglen, in Ulsther, Munsther, Leinsther, an\u2019 Connaught--not forgettin\u2019 the\nHighlands of Scotland, where there\u2019s what they call the \u2018short prophecy,\u2019\nor second sight, but wherein there\u2019s afther all but little of the\nIrish or long prophecy, that regards what\u2019s to befall the winged woman\nthat flown into the wilderness. No, no--their second sight isn\u2019t thrue\nprophecy at all. If a man goes out to fish, or steal a cow, an\u2019 that he\nhappens to be drowned or shot, another man that has the second sight will\nsee this in his mind about or afther the time it happens. Why, that\u2019s\nlittle. Many a time our own Irish drames are aiqual to it; an\u2019 indeed I\nhave it from a knowledgeable man, that the gift they boast of has four\nparents--an empty stomach, thin air, a weak head, an\u2019 strong whisky,\nan\u2019 that a man must have all these, espishilly the last, before he can\nhave the second sight properly; an\u2019 it\u2019s my own opinion. Now, I have a\nlittle book (indeed I left my books with a friend down at Errigle) that\ncontains a prophecy of the milk-white hind an\u2019 the bloody panther, an\u2019 a\nforebodin\u2019 of the slaughter there\u2019s to be in the Valley of the Black Pig,\nas foretould by Beal Derg, or the prophet wid the red mouth, who never\nwas known to speak but when he prophesied, or to prophesy but when he\nspoke.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Lord bless an\u2019 keep us!--an\u2019 why was he called the Man wid the Red\nMouth, Barney?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll tell you that: first, bekase he always prophesied about the\nslaughter an\u2019 fightin\u2019 that was to take place in the time to come; an\u2019,\nsecondly, bekase, while he spoke, the red blood always trickled out of\nhis mouth, as a proof that what he foretould was true.\u201d\n\n\u201cGlory be to God! but that\u2019s wondherful all out. Well, well!\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, an\u2019 Beal Derg, or the Red Mouth, is still livin\u2019.\u201d\n\n\u201cLivin\u2019! why, is he a man of our own time?\u201d\n\n\u201cOur own time! The Lord help you! It\u2019s more than a thousand years since\nhe made the prophecy. The case you see is this: he an\u2019 the ten thousand\nwitnesses are lyin\u2019 in an enchanted sleep in one of the Montherlony\nmountains.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn\u2019 how is that known, Barney?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s known. Every night at a certain hour one of the witnesses--an\u2019\nthey\u2019re all sogers, by the way--must come out to look for the sign that\u2019s\nto come.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn\u2019 what is that, Barney?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s the fiery cross; an\u2019 when he sees one on aich of the four mountains\nof the north, he\u2019s to know that the same sign\u2019s abroad in all the other\nparts of the kingdom. Beal Derg an\u2019 his men are then to waken up, an\u2019 by\ntheir aid the Valley of the Black Pig is to be set free for ever.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn\u2019 what is the Black Pig, Barney?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Prospitarian church, that stretch from Enniskillen to Darry, an\u2019\nback again from Darry to Enniskillen.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, well, Barney, but prophecy is a strange thing to be sure! Only\nthink of men livin\u2019 a thousand years!\u201d\n\n\u201cEvery night one of Beal Derg\u2019s men must go to the mouth of the cave,\nwhich opens of itself, an\u2019 then look out for the sign that\u2019s expected.\nHe walks up to the top of the mountain, an\u2019 turns to the four corners\nof the heavens, to thry if he can see it; an\u2019 when he finds that he can\nnot, he goes back to Beal Derg, who, afther the other touches him, starts\nup, an\u2019 axis him, \u2018Is the time come?\u2019 He replies, \u2018No; the _man is_, but\nthe _hour_ is _not_!\u2019 an\u2019 that instant they\u2019re both asleep again. Now,\nyou see, while the soger is on the mountain top, the mouth of the cave\nis open, an\u2019 any one may go in that might happen to see it. One man it\nappears did, an\u2019 wishin\u2019 to know from curiosity whether the sogers were\ndead or livin\u2019, he touched one of them wid his hand, who started up an\u2019\naxed him the same question, \u2018Is the time come?\u2019 Very fortunately he said\n\u2018_No_;\u2019 that minute the soger was as sound in his trance as before.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn\u2019, Barney, what did the soger mane when he said, \u2018The man is, but the\nhour is not?\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat did he mane? I\u2019ll tell you that. The man is Bonyparty; which manes,\nwhen put into proper explanation, the _right side_; that is, the true\ncause. Larned men have found _that_ out.\u201d\n\n\u201cBarney, wasn\u2019t Columkill a great prophet?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe was a great man entirely at prophecy, and so was St Bridget. He\nprophesied \u2018that the cock wid the purple comb is to have both his wings\nclipped by one of his own breed before the struggle comes.\u2019 Before that\ntime, too, we\u2019re to have the Black Militia, an\u2019 afther that it is time\nfor every man to be prepared.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn\u2019, Barney, who is the cock wid the purple comb?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, the Orangemen to be sure. Isn\u2019t purple their colour, the dirty\nthieves?\u201d\n\n\u201cAn\u2019 the Black Militia, Barney, who are they?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have gone far an\u2019 near, through north an\u2019 through south, up an\u2019 down,\nby hill an\u2019 hollow, till my toes were corned an\u2019 my heels in griskins,\nbut could find no one able to resolve that, or bring it clear out o\u2019\nthe prophecy. They\u2019re to be sogers in black, an\u2019 all their arms an\u2019\n\u2019coutrements is to be the same colour; an\u2019 farther than that is not known\n_as yet_.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s a wondher _you_ don\u2019t know it, Barney, for there\u2019s little about\nprophecy that you haven\u2019t at your finger ends.\u201d\n\n\u201cThree birds is to meet (Barney proceeded in a kind of recitative\nenthusiasm) upon the saes--two ravens an\u2019 a dove--the two ravens is to\nattack the dove until she\u2019s at the point of death; but before they take\nher life, an eagle comes and tears the two ravens to pieces, an\u2019 the dove\nrecovers.\n\nThere\u2019s to be two cries in the kingdom; one of them is to rache from the\nGiants\u2019 Causeway to the centre house of the town of Sligo; the other is\nto rache from the Falls of Beleek to the Mill of Louth, which is to be\nturned three times with human blood; but this is not to happen until a\nman with two thumbs an\u2019 six fingers upon his right hand happens to be the\nmiller.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho\u2019s to give the sign of freedom to Ireland?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe little boy wid the red coat that\u2019s born a dwarf, lives a giant,\nand dies a dwarf again! He\u2019s lightest of foot, but leaves the heaviest\nfoot-mark behind him. An\u2019 it\u2019s he that is to give the sign of freedom to\nIreland!\u201d\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s a period to come when Antichrist is to be upon the earth,\nattended by his two body servants Gog and Magog. Who are they, Barney?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are the sons of Hegog an\u2019 Shegog, or in other words, of Death an\u2019\nDamnation, and cousin-jarmins to the Devil himself, which of coorse is\nthe raison why he promotes them.\u201d\n\n\u201cLord save us! But I hope that won\u2019t he in our time, Barney!\u201d\n\n\u201cAntichrist is to come from the land of Crame o\u2019 Tarthar (Crim Tartary,\naccording to Pastorini), which will account for himself an\u2019 his army\nbreathin\u2019 fire an\u2019 brimstone out of their mouths, according\u2019 to the\nglorious Revelation of St John the Divine, an\u2019 the great prophecy of\nPastorini, both of which beautifully compromise upon the subject.\n\nThe prophet of the Black Stone is to come, who was born never to\nprognosticate a lie. He is to be a mighty hunter, an\u2019 instead of riding\nto his fetlocks _in_ blood, he is to ride _upon_ it, to the admiration of\nhis times. It\u2019s of him it is said \u2018that he is to be the only prophet that\never went on horseback!\u2019\n\nThen there\u2019s Bardolphus, who, as there was a prophet wid the red mouth,\nis called \u2018the prophet wid the red nose.\u2019 Ireland was, it appears\nfrom ancient books, undher wather for many hundred years before her\ndiscovery; but bein\u2019 allowed to become visible one day in every year,\nthe enchantment was broken by a sword that was thrown upon the earth,\nan\u2019 from that out she remained dry, an\u2019 became inhabited. \u2018Woe, woe,\nwoe,\u2019 says Bardolphus, \u2018the time is to come when we\u2019ll have a second\ndeluge, an\u2019 Ireland is to be undher wather once more. A well is to open\nat Cork that will cover the whole island from the Giants\u2019 Causeway to\nCape Clear. In them days St Patrick will be despised, an\u2019 will stand\nover the pleasant houses wid his pasthoral crook in his hand, crying out\n_Cead mille failtha_ in vain! Woe, woe, woe,\u2019 says Bardolphus, \u2018for in\nthem days there will be a great confusion of colours among the people;\nthere will be neither red noses nor pale cheeks, an\u2019 the divine face\nof man, alas! will put forth blossoms no more. The heart of the times\nwill become changed; an\u2019 when they rise up in the morning, it will\ncome to pass that there will be no longer light heads or shaking hands\namong Irishmen! Woe, woe, woe, men, women, and children will then die,\nan\u2019 their only complaint, like all those who perished in the flood of\nould, will be wather on the brain--wather on the brain! Woe, woe, woe,\u2019\nsays Bardolphus, \u2018for the changes that is to come, an\u2019 the misfortunes\nthat\u2019s to befall the many for the noddification of the few! an\u2019 yet such\nthings must be, for I, in virtue of the red spirit that dwells in me,\nmust prophesy them. In those times men will be shod in liquid fire an\u2019\nnot be burned; their breeches shall be made of fire, an\u2019 will not burn\nthem; their bread shall be made of fire, an\u2019 will not burn them; their\nmeat shall be made of fire, an\u2019 will not burn them; an\u2019 why?--Oh, woe,\nwoe, wather shall so prevail that the coolness of their bodies will keep\nthem safe; yea, they shall even get fat, fair, an\u2019 be full of health\nan\u2019 strength, by wearing garments wrought out of liquid fire, by eating\nliquid fire, an\u2019 all because they do not drink liquid fire--an\u2019 this\ncalamity shall come to pass,\u2019 says Bardolphus, the prophet of the red\nnose.\n\nTwo widows shall be grinding at the Mill of Louth (so saith the\nprophecy); one shall be taken and the other left.\u201d\n\nThus would Barney proceed, repeating such ludicrous and heterogeneous\nmixtures of old traditionary prophecies and spurious quotations from\nScripture as were concocted for him by those who took delight in amusing\nthemselves and others at the expense of his inordinate love for prophecy.\n\n\u201cBut, Barney, touching the Mill o\u2019 Louth, of the two widows grindin\u2019\nthere, whether will the one that is taken or the one that is left be the\nbest off?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe prophecy doesn\u2019t say,\u201d replied Barney, \u201can\u2019 that\u2019s a matther that\nlarned men are very much divided about. My own opinion is, that the one\nthat is taken will be the best off; for St Bridget says \u2018that betune wars\nan\u2019 pestilences an\u2019 famine, the men are to be so scarce that several of\nthem are to be torn to pieces by the women in their struggles to see who\nwill get them for husbands.\u2019[1] That time they say is to come.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, Barney, isn\u2019t there many ould prophecies about particular families\nin Ireland?\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, several: an\u2019 I\u2019ll tell you one of them, about a family that\u2019s not\nfar from us this minute. You all know the hangin\u2019 wall of the ould Church\nof Ballynasaggart, in Errigle Keeran parish?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe do, to be sure; an\u2019 we know the prophecy too.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf coorse you do, bein\u2019 in the neighbourhood. Well, what is it in the\nmean time?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, that it\u2019s never to fall till it comes down upon an\u2019 takes the life\nof a M\u2019Mahon.\u201d\n\n\u201cRight enough; but do you know the raison of it?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe can\u2019t say that, Barney; but, however, we\u2019re at home when you\u2019re here.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I\u2019ll tell you. St Keeran was, may be, next to St Patrick himself,\none of the greatest saints in Ireland, but any rate we may put him\nnext to St Columkill. Now, you see, when he was building the church of\nBallynasaggart, it came to pass that there arose a great famine in the\nland, an\u2019 the saint found it hard to feed the workmen where there was no\nvittles. What to do, he knew not, an\u2019 by coorse he was at a sad amplush,\nno doubt of it. At length says he, \u2018Boys, we\u2019re all hard set at present,\nan\u2019 widout food bedad we can\u2019t work; but if you observe my directions,\nwe\u2019ll contrive to have a bit o\u2019 mate in the mean time, an\u2019, among\nourselves, it was seldom more wanted, for, to tell you the thruth, I\nnever thought my back an\u2019 belly would become so well acquainted. For the\nlast three days they haven\u2019t been asunder, an\u2019 I find they are perfectly\nwilling to part as soon as possible, an\u2019 would be glad of any thing that\n\u2019ud put betune them.\u2019\n\nNow, the fact was, that, for drawin\u2019 timber an\u2019 stones, an\u2019 all the\nnecessary matayrials for the church, they had but one bullock, an\u2019 him St\nKeeran resolved to kill in the evening, an\u2019 to give them a fog meal of\nhim. He accordingly slaughtered him with his own hands, \u2018but,\u2019 said he to\nthe workmen, \u2018mind what I say, boys: if any one of you breaks a single\nbone, even the smallest, or injures the hide in the laste, you\u2019ll destroy\nall; an\u2019 my sowl to glory but it\u2019ll be worse for you besides.\u2019\n\nHe then took all the flesh off the bones, but not till he had boiled\nthem, of coorse; afther which he sewed them up again in the skin, an\u2019\nput them in the shed, wid a good wisp o\u2019 straw before them; an\u2019 glory be\nto God, what do you think, but the next mornin\u2019 the bullock was alive,\nan\u2019 in as good condition as ever he was in during his life! Betther fed\nworkmen you couldn\u2019t see, an\u2019, bedad, the saint himself got so fat an\u2019\nrosy that you\u2019d scarcely know him to be the same man afther it. Now,\nthis went on for some time: whenever they wanted mate, the bullock was\nkilled, an\u2019 the bones an\u2019 skin kept safe as before. At last it happened\nthat a long-sided fellow among them named M\u2019Mahon, not satisfied wid his\nallowance of the mate, took a fancy to have a lick at the marrow, an\u2019\naccordingly, in spite of all the saint said, he broke one of the legs\nan\u2019 sucked the marrow out of it. But behold you!--the next day when they\nwent to yoke the bullock, they found that he was useless, for the leg was\nbroken an\u2019 he couldn\u2019t work. This, to be sure, was a sad misfortune to\nthem all, but it couldn\u2019t be helped, an\u2019 they had to wait till betther\ntimes came; for the truth is, that afther the marrow is broken, no power\nof man could make the leg as it was before until the cure is brought\nabout by time. However, the saint was very much vexed, an\u2019 good right\nhe had. \u2018Now, M\u2019Mahon,\u2019 says he to the guilty man, \u2018I ordher it, an\u2019\nprophesy that the church we\u2019re building will never fall till it falls\nupon the head of some one of your name, if it was to stand a thousand\nyears. Mark my words, for they must come to pass.\u2019\n\nAn\u2019 sure enough you know as well as I do that it\u2019s all down long ago wid\nthe exception of a piece of the wall, that\u2019s not standin\u2019 but hangin\u2019,\nwidout any visible support in life, an\u2019 only propped up by the prophecy.\nIt can\u2019t fall till a M\u2019Mahon comes undher it; but although there\u2019s plenty\nof the name in the neighbourhood, ten o\u2019 the strongest horses in the\nkingdom wouldn\u2019t drag one of them widin half a mile of it. There, now, is\nthe prophecy that belongs to the hangin\u2019 wall of Ballynasaggart church.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, Barney, didn\u2019t you say something about the winged woman that flewn\nto the wildherness?\u201d\n\n\u201cI did; that\u2019s a deep point, an\u2019 it\u2019s few that undherstands it. The baste\nwid seven heads an\u2019 ten horns is to come; an\u2019 when he was to make his\nappearance, it was said to be time for them that might be alive then to\ngo to their padareens.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat does the seven heads and ten horns mane, Barney?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, you see, as I am informed from good authority, the baste has come,\nan\u2019 it\u2019s clear from the _ten_ horns that he could be no other than Harry\nthe Eighth, who was married to _five_ wives, an\u2019 by all accounts they\nstrengthened an\u2019 ornamented him sore against his will. Now, set in case\nthat each o\u2019 them--five times two is ten--hut! the thing\u2019s as clear as\ncrystal. But I\u2019ll prove it betther. You see the woman wid the two wings\nis the church, an\u2019 she flew into the wildherness at the very time Harry\nthe Eighth wid his ten horns on him was in his greatest power.\u201d\n\n\u201cBedad that\u2019s puttin\u2019 the explanations to it in great style.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut the woman wid the wings is only to be in the wildherness for a time,\ntimes, an\u2019 half a time, that\u2019s exactly three hundred an\u2019 fifty years, an\u2019\nafther that there\u2019s to be no more Prodestans.\u201d\n\n\u201cFaith that\u2019s great!\u201d\n\n\u201cSure Columkill prophesied that until H E M E I A M should come, the\nchurch would be in no danger, but that afther that she must be undher a\ncloud for a time, times, an\u2019 half a time, jist in the same way.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, but how do you explain that, Barney?\u201d\n\n\u201cAn\u2019 St Bridget prophesied that when D O C is uppermost, the church will\nbe hard set in Ireland. But, indeed, there\u2019s no end to the prophecies\nthat there is concerning Ireland an\u2019 the church. However, neighbours, do\nyou know that I feel the heat o\u2019 the fire has made me rather drowsy, an\u2019\nif you have no objection, I\u2019ll take a bit of a nap. There\u2019s great things\nnear us, any how. An\u2019 talkin\u2019 about DOC brings to my mind another ould\nprophecy made up, they say, betune Columkill and St Bridget; an\u2019 it is\nthis, that the triumph of the counthry will never be at hand till the DOC\nflourishes in Ireland.\u201d\n\nSuch were the speculations upon which the harmless mind of Barney\nM\u2019Haighery ever dwelt. From house to house, from parish to parish, and\nfrom province to province, did he thus trudge, never in a hurry, but\nalways steady and constant in his motions. He might be not inaptly termed\nthe Old Mortality of traditionary prophecy, which he often chiselled\nanew, added to, and improved, in a manner that generally gratified\nhimself and his bearers. He was a harmless kind man, and never known to\nstand in need of either clothes or money. He paid little attention to\nthe silent business of ongoing life, and was consequently very nearly an\nabstraction. He was always on the alert, however, for the result of a\nbattle; and after having heard it, he would give no opinion whatsoever\nuntil he had first silently compared it with his own private theory\nin prophecy. If it agreed with this, he immediately published it in\nconnection with his established text; but if it did not, he never opened\nhis lips on the subject.\n\nHis class has nearly disappeared, and indeed it is so much the better,\nfor the minds of the people were thus filled with antiquated nonsense\nthat did them no good. Poor Barney, to his great mortification, lived to\nsee with his own eyes the failure of his most favourite prophecies, but\nhe was not to be disheartened even by this; though some might fail, all\ncould not; and his stock was too varied and extensive not to furnish him\nwith a sufficient number of others over which to cherish his imagination\nand expatiate during the remainder of his inoffensive life.\n\n[1] There certainly is such a prophecy.\n\n\n\n\nORIGIN AND MEANINGS OF IRISH FAMILY NAMES.\n\nBY JOHN O\u2019DONOVAN.\n\nFifth Article.\n\n\nAccording to Mabillon, hereditary surnames were first established in\nItaly in the tenth and eleventh centuries; but Muratori shows that this\nstatement cannot be correct, as in the MSS. of the tenth century in the\nAmbrosian Library of Milan, no trace can be found of surnames. In the\nninth and tenth centuries, to distinguish persons, their profession or\ncountry is added to the Christian name, as Johannes Scotus Erigena,\nDungallus Scotus, Johannes Presbyter, Johannes Clericus; the dignity is\nalso sometimes added, as Comes Marchio, without stating of what place.\nIn the tenth century, \u201cA, the son of B, the son of C,\u201d was another\nmode of designation. It is said that the Venetians in the beginning of\nthe eleventh century adopted hereditary surnames, a custom which they\nborrowed from the Greeks, with whom they carried on a great trade. The\nLombards adopted the same practice after the fashion of the Venetians,\nand accordingly the great family of Monticuli took that name from their\ncastle in Lombardy called Montecuculi, it being on the top of a hill. The\ngreat house of Colonna took its name from the town and castle of Columna\nabout the year 1156; and about the same time the noble family of Ursini\nderived its name from an ancestor nicknamed Ursus, or Orso, on account\nof his ferocity. Other noble families adopted names from the nickname\ngiven to an ancestor, as the illustrious family of Malaspina (the bad\nthorn) of Pavia, and the family of Malatesta (the bad head). The family\nof Frangipani, so formidable to the Popes, took that name in the twelfth\ncentury. The Rangones of Rome took their name from an estate of theirs\nin Germany. The Viscontes of Milan were so called from their title of\nViscount, which was borne by one of the family. These names appear for\nthe first time in the latter end of the twelfth century. I consider\nit but proper to observe, that for this information on the subject of\nItalian surnames we are indebted to the antiquary whose name I have\nalready mentioned, the accurate and laborious Muratori.\n\nTo resume the history of surnames in Ireland. We have seen in the\nlast article that in the year 1682 the inferior classes in Ireland,\nespecially in Westmeath and the adjoining counties, were very forward in\naccommodating themselves to the English usages, particularly in their\nsurnames, \u201cwhich by all manner of ways they strove to make English or\nEnglish-like.\u201d This was more particularly the case after the defeat\nof the Irish at the Boyne and Aughrim, when the Irish chieftains were\nconquered, and the pride of the Irish people was humbled. At this period,\nthe Irish people, finding that their ancient surnames sounded harshly in\nthe ears of their conquerors and new English masters, found it convenient\nto reduce them as much as possible to the level of English pronunciation:\nand they accordingly rejected in almost every instance the O\u2019 and Mac,\nand made various other changes in their names, so as to give them an\nEnglish appearance. Thus a gentleman of the O\u2019Neills in Tyrone changed\nhis old name of Felim O\u2019Neill to Felix Neele, as we learn from an epigram\nwritten in Latin on the subject by a witty scholar of the name of Conway\nor Mac Conwy, whose Irish feeling had not been blunted by the misfortunes\nof the times. The following translation of this epigram is perhaps worth\npreserving:--\n\n    All things has Felix changed, he has changed his name;\n    Yea, in himself he is no more the same.\n    Scorning to spend his days where he was reared,\n    To drag out life among the vulgar herd,\n    Or trudge his way through bogs in bracks and brogues,\n    He changed his creed and joined the Saxon rogues\n    By whom his sires were robbed; he laid aside\n    The arms they bore for centuries with pride,\n    The Ship, the Salmon, and the famed Red Hand,\n    And blushed when called O\u2019Neill in his own land!\n    Poor, paltry skulker from thy noble race,\n    _Infelix Felix_, weep for thy disgrace!\n\nMany others even of the most distinguished family names were anglicised\nin a similar manner, as O\u2019Conor to Conors and Coniers, O\u2019Brien to\nBrine, Mac Carthy to Carty, &c. The respectability of the O\u2019s and Macs,\nhowever, was kept up on the Continent by the warriors of the Irish\nBrigade, who preserved every mark that would prove them to be of Irish\norigin; the Irish having at this period become so illustrious for their\nmilitary skill, valour, and politeness, that they were sought after\nby all the powers on the Continent of Europe. Thus we find O\u2019Donnell\nmade Field Marshal, Chief General of Cavalry, Governor-General of\nTransylvania, and Grand Croix of the Military Order of St Theresa.\nThe O\u2019Flanigan of Tuaraah (John), in the county of Fermanagh, became\nColonel in the imperial service; and his brother James O\u2019Flanigan was\nLieutenant-General of Dillon\u2019s regiment in France. O\u2019Mahony became a\nCount and Lieutenant-General of his Catholic Majesty\u2019s forces, and his\nAmbassador Plenipotentiary at the Court of Vienna; Mac Gawley of the\ncounty of Cork became Colonel of a regiment in Spain; O\u2019Neny of Tyrone\nsettled at Brussels, and became Count of the Roman Empire, Councillor of\nState to her Imperial Majesty, and Chief President of the Privy Council\nat Brussels. A branch of the family of O\u2019Callaghan, who followed the\nfortunes of King James II, became Baron O\u2019Callaghan, and Grand Veneur\n(chasseur) to his Serene Highness the Prince Margrave of Baden-Baden. The\nhead of the O\u2019Mullallys, or O\u2019Lallys of Tulach na dala, two miles to the\nwest of Tuam, in the county of Galway, settled in France and became Count\nLally-Tollendal and a General in the French service. O\u2019Conor Roe became\nGovernor of Civita Vecchia, a sea-port of great trust in the Pope\u2019s\ndominions, &c., &c.\n\nThe lustre derived from the renown of these warriors kept up the\nrespectability of the O\u2019s and Macs on the Continent, and induced many\nof the Irish at home to resume these prefixes, especially the O\u2019. Thus\nin our own time the name O\u2019Conor Don was assumed by Owen O\u2019Conor, Esq.\nof Belanagare, whose line was seven generations removed from the last\nancestor who had borne the name; and the name of the O\u2019Grady has also\nbeen assumed by Mr O\u2019Grady of Kilballyowen, in our own time, though none\nof his ancestors had borne it since the removal of that family from\nTomgraney, in the county of Clare. Myles John O\u2019Reilly, late of the\nHeath House, Queen\u2019s County, was at one time disposed to style himself\nthe O\u2019Reilly, but I regret to say that his circumstances prevented him.\nDaniel O\u2019Connell, Esq. of Derrynane Abbey, prefixed the O\u2019 after it had\nbeen dropped for several generations; and I have heard it constantly\nasserted that he has no _title_ to the O\u2019, because his father, who did\nnot know his pedigree, never prefixed it; but such assertions have no\nweight with us, for we know that O\u2019Connell\u2019s father never mentioned his\nown name in the original Irish without prefixing O\u2019, because it would be\nimperfect without it. And whether O\u2019Connell can trace his pedigree with\ncertainty up to Conall, chief of the tribe in the tenth century, we know\nnot, but we know that he ought to be able to do so.\n\nIn like manner, Morgan William O\u2019Donovan, of Mountpelier, near Cork,\nhas not only re-assumed the O\u2019 which his ancestors had rejected for\neight generations, but also has styled himself the O\u2019Donovan, chief of\nhis name, being the next of kin to the last acknowledged head of that\nfamily, the late General Richard O\u2019Donovan of Bawnlahan, whose family\nbecame extinct in the year 1829. His example has been followed by Timothy\nO\u2019Donovan, of O\u2019Donovan\u2019s Cove, head of a respectable branch of the\nfamily. We like this Irish pride of ancestry, and we hope that it will\nbecome general before many years shall have passed.\n\nThere are other heads of families who retain their Irish names with\npride, as Sir Lucius O\u2019Brien of Dromoland, in Clare; Mac Dermot Roe of\nAlderford, in the county of Roscommon; Mac Dermot of Coolavin, who is\nthe lineal descendant of the chief of Moylurg, and whose pedigree is as\nwell known as that of any royal family in Europe; O\u2019Hara of Leyny, in the\ncounty of Sligo; O\u2019Dowda of Bunyconnellan, near Ballina, in the county\nof Mayo; O\u2019Loughlin of Burren, in the north of the county of Clare; Mac\nCarthy of Carrignavar, near Cork, who represents one of the noblest\nfamilies in Ireland; Mac Gillicuddy of the Reeks, in the county of Kerry,\na collateral branch of the same great family; O\u2019Kelly of Ticooly, in\nthe county of Galway; O\u2019Moore of Clough Castle, in the King\u2019s County;\nMore O\u2019Ferrall, M. P. O\u2019Fflahertie, of Lemonfield, in the same county;\nand John Augustus Mageoghegan O\u2019Neill, of Bunowen Castle, in the west\nof Connamara, in the same county. We are not aware that any of the old\nfamilies of Leinster have preserved their ancient names unadulterated.\nOf these, the Cavanaghs of Borris, in the county of Carlow, are the most\ndistinguished; and we indulge a hope that the rising generation will\nsoon resume the name of Mac Murrogh Cavanagh, a name celebrated in Irish\nhistory for great virtues as well as great vices.\n\nAmong the less distinguished families, however, the translation and\nanglicising of names have gone on to so great a degree as to leave no\ndoubt that in the course of half a century it will be difficult, if\nnot impossible, to distinguish many families of Irish name and origin\nfrom those of English name and origin, unless, indeed, inquirers shall\nbe enabled to do so by the assistance of history and physiognomical\ncharacteristics. The principal cause of the change of these names was\nthe difficulty which the magistrates and lawyers, who did not understand\nthe Irish language, found in pronouncing them, and in consequence their\nconstant habit of ridiculing them. This made the Irish feel ashamed of\nall such names as were difficult of pronunciation to English organs, and\nthey were thus led to change them by degrees, either by translating them\ninto what they conceived to be their meanings in English, by assimilating\nthem to local English surnames of respectable families, or by paring them\nin such a manner as to make them easy of pronunciation to English organs.\n\nThe families among the lower ranks who have translated, anglicised, or\ntotally changed their ancient surnames, are very numerous, and are daily\nbecoming more and more so. Besides the cause already mentioned, we can\nassign two reasons for this rage which prevails at present among the\nlower classes for the continued adoption of English surnames. First,\nthe English language is becoming that universally spoken among these\nclasses, and there are many Irish surnames which do not seem to sound\nvery euphoniously in that modern language; and, secondly, the names\ntranslated or totally changed are, with very few exceptions, of no\ncelebrity in Irish history; and when they do not sound well in English,\nthe bearers naturally wish to get rid of them, in order that they should\nnot be considered of Atticotic or plebeian Irish origin. As this change\nis going on rapidly in every part of Ireland, I shall here, for the\ninformation, if not for the amusement, of the reader, give some account\nof the Milesian or Scotic names that have thus become metamorphosed.\n\nAnd first, of names which have been translated correctly or incorrectly.\nIn the county of Sligo the ancient name of O\u2019Mulclohy has been\nmetamorphosed into Stone, from an idea that _clohy_, the latter part of\nit, signifies a _stone_, but it is a mere guess translation; so that\nin this instance this people may be said to have taken a new name. In\nthe county of Leitrim, the ancient and by no means obscure name of Mac\nConnava has been rendered Forde, from an erroneous notion that _ava_,\nthe last part of it, is a corruption of _atha_, _of a ford_. This is\nalso an instance of false translation, for we know that Mac Connava,\nchief of Munter Kenny, in the county of Leitrim, took his name from his\nancestor Cusnava, who flourished in the tenth century. In Thomond the\nancient name of O\u2019Knavin is now often anglicised Bowen, because Knavin\nsignifies a _small bone_. This change was first made by a butcher in\nDublin, who should perhaps be excused, as he conformed so well to the act\nof 5 Edward IV. In Tirconnell the ancient name of O\u2019Mulmoghery is now\nalways rendered Early, because _moch-eirghe_ signifies _early rising_.\nThis version, however, is excusable, though not altogether correct.\nIn Thomond, O\u2019Marcachain is translated Ryder by some, but anglicised\nMarkham by others; and in the same territory O\u2019Lahiff is made Guthrie,\nwhich is altogether incorrect. In Tyrone the ancient name of Mac Rory is\nnow invariably made Rogers, because Roger is assumed to be the English\nChristian name corresponding to the Irish Ruaidhri or Rory. In Connamara,\nin the west of the county of Galway, the ancient name of Mac Conry is now\nalways made King, because it is assumed that _ry_, the last syllable of\nit, is from _righ_, a king; but this is a gross error, for this family,\nwho are of Dalcassian origin, took their surname from their ancestor\nCuroi, a name which forms Conroi in the genitive case, and has nothing\nto do with _righ_, a king; and the Kings of Connamara would therefore do\nwell to drop their false name, a name to which they have no right, and\nre-assume their proper ancient and excellent name of Mac Conry, through\nwhich alone their pedigree and their history can be traced.\n\nThese examples, selected out of a long list of Irish surnames,\nerroneously translated, are sufficient to show the false process by which\nthe Irish are getting rid of their ancient surnames. I shall next exhibit\na few specimens of Irish surnames which have been assimilated to English\nor Scotch ones, from a fancied resemblance in the sounds of both.\n\nIn Ulster, Mac Mahon, the name of the celebrated chiefs of Oriel, a name\nwhich, as we have already seen, the poet Spenser attempted to prove to be\nan Irish form of Fitzursula, is now very frequently anglicised Matthews;\nand Mac Cawell, the name of the ancient chiefs of Kinel Ferady, is\nanglicised Camphill, Campbell, Howell, and even Cauldfield. In Thomond,\nthe name O\u2019Hiomhair is anglicised Howard among the peasantry, and Ivers\namong the gentry, which looks strange indeed! And in the same county, the\nancient Irish name of O\u2019Beirne is metamorphosed to Byron; while in the\noriginal locality of the name, in Tir-Briuin na Sinna, in the east of\nthe county of Roscommon, it is anglicised Bruin among the peasantry; but\namong the gentry, who know the historical respectability of the name, the\noriginal form O\u2019Beirne is retained. In the province of Connaught we have\nmet a family of the name of O\u2019Heraghty, who anglicised their old Scotic\nname to Harrington, an innovation which we consider almost unpardonable.\nIn the city of Limerick, the illustrious name of O\u2019Shaughnessy is\nmetamorphosed to Sandys, by a family who know their pedigree well; for no\nother reason, perhaps, than to disguise the Irish origin of the family;\nbut we are glad to find it retained by the Roman Catholic Dean of Ennis,\nand also by Mr O\u2019Shaughnessy of Galway, who, though now reduced to the\ncapacity of a barber in the town of Galway, is the chief of his name, and\nnow the senior representative of Guaire Aidhne, king of Connaught, who\nis celebrated in Irish history as the personification of hospitality.\nStrange turn of affairs! In the county of Londonderry, the celebrated\nold name O\u2019Brollaghan is made to look English by being transmuted to\nBradley, an English name of no lustre, at least in Ireland. In the county\nof Fermanagh, the O\u2019Creighans have changed their name to Creighton,\nfor no other reason than because a Colonel Creighton lives in their\nvicinity; and in the county of Leitrim, O\u2019Fergus, the descendant of the\nancient Erenachs of Rossinver, has, we are sorry to say, lately changed\nhis name to Ferguson. Throughout the province of Ulster generally, very\nextraordinary changes have been made in the names of the aborigines; as,\nMac Teige, to Montague; O\u2019Mulligan, to Molyneaux; Mac-Gillycuskly, to\nCosgrove; Mac Gillyglass, to Greene; O\u2019Tuathalain, to Toland and Thulis;\nO\u2019Hay, to Hughes; O\u2019Carellan, to Carleton, as, for instance, our own\nWilliam Carleton, the depicter of the manners, customs, and superstitions\nof the Irish, who is of the old Milesian race of the O\u2019Cairellans, the\nancient chiefs of Clandermot, in the present county of Londonderry;\nO\u2019Howen, to Owens; Mac Gillyfinen, to Leonard; Mac Shane, to Johnson,\nand even Johnston; O\u2019Gneeve, to Agnew; O\u2019Clery, to Clarke; Mac Lave, to\nHande; Mac Guiggin, to Goodwin; O\u2019Hir, to Hare; O\u2019Luane, to Lamb; Mac\nConin, to Canning; O\u2019Haughey, to Howe; O\u2019Conwy, to Conway; O\u2019Loingsy, to\nLynch; Mac Namee, to Meath, &c., &c.\n\nIn Connaught, O\u2019Greighan is changed to Graham; O\u2019Cluman, to Coalman;\nO\u2019Naghton, to Norton; Mac Rannal, to Reynolds; O\u2019Heosa, to Hussey; Mac\nFirbis, to Forbes; O\u2019Hargadon, to Hardiman (the learned author of the\nHistory of Galway, and compiler of the Irish Minstrelsy, is of this\nname, and not of English origin, as the present form of his name would\nseem to indicate); O\u2019Mulfover, to Milford; O\u2019Tiompain, to Tenpenny;\nO\u2019Conagan, to Conyngham; O\u2019Heyne, to Hindes and Hynes; O\u2019Mulvihil, to\nMelville; O\u2019Rourke, to Rooke; Mac Gillakilly, to Cox and Woods. In\nMunster, O\u2019Sesnan is changed to Sexton; O\u2019Shanahan, to Fox; O\u2019Turran, to\nTroy; O\u2019Mulligan, to Baldwin; O\u2019Hiskeen, to Hastings; O\u2019Nia, to Neville\n(in every instance!); O\u2019Corey, to Curry; O\u2019Sheedy, to Silke; O\u2019Mulfaver,\nto Palmer; O\u2019Trehy, to Foote; O\u2019Honeen, to Greene; O\u2019Connaing, to\nGunning; O\u2019Murgaly, to Morley; O\u2019Kinsellagh, to Kingsley and Tinsly; Mac\nGillymire, to Merryman; O\u2019Hehir, to Hare; O\u2019Faelchon, to Wolfe; O\u2019Barran,\nto Barrington; O\u2019Keatey, to Keating; O\u2019Connowe, to Conway; O\u2019Credan, to\nCreed; O\u2019Feehily, to Pickley; O\u2019Ahern, to Heron, &c., &c.\n\nScores of similar instances might be given, but the number exhibited is\nsufficient to show the manner in which the Irish are assimilating their\nnames with those of their conquerors.\n\n\n\n\nSCRAP FROM THE NORTHERN SCRIP.\n\nTranslated for the Irish Penny Journal, from the publications of the\nRoyal Society of Northern Antiquaries, Copenhagen.\n\nNO. II.--AN IRISH HERDSMAN\u2019S DOG.\n\n\nAfter King Olave had married his Irish spouse Gyda, he dwelt partly\nin England, partly in Ireland. While King Olave was in Ireland, it so\nhappened that he was engaged in a certain expedition attended by a great\nnaval force. When they were short of plunder, they went ashore, and drove\noff a great multitude of cattle. Then a certain peasant followed them,\nbegging that they would return him the cows which belonged to him in the\nherd they were driving away. King Olave answered, \u201cDrive off your cows,\nif you know them, and can separate them from the herd of oxen, so as not\nto delay our journey; but I believe that neither you nor any one else\ncan do this, from among so many hundreds of oxen as we are driving.\u201d The\npeasant had a large herdsman\u2019s dog, which he ordered to sort the herds\nof oxen that were collected. The dog ran about through all the herds of\noxen, and drove off as many oxen as the peasant had said he wanted; all\nthese oxen were marked in the same manner, from which they inferred that\nthe dog had rightly distinguished them. Then the king says, \u201cYour dog is\nvery sagacious, peasant! will you give me the dog?\u201d He answered, \u201cI will,\nwith pleasure.\u201d The king immediately gave him a large gold ring, and\npromised him his friendship. This dog was named Vigins, and he was of all\ndogs the most sagacious and the best; that dog was long in King Olave\u2019s\npossession.\n\n                                                                    G. D.\n\n\n\n\nANIMAL HEAT.\n\nFirst Article.\n\n\nA few years ago a conjuror made his appearance in London, whose\nperformances were so wonderful that his audience, instead of being\nconfined to the foolish and thoughtless people who usually encourage\nsuch exhibitions, included many of the most eminent philosophers and\nscientific men of the day. It may naturally be supposed that his feats\nmust have been more than usually ingenious, to attract persons of such\nconsequence; and indeed many of them were so wonderful, that, had he\nventured to exhibit them a century or two ago, they would inevitably\nhave led him to the stake or the scaffold, for having too intimate\nan acquaintance with a certain disreputable personage whom it is not\nnecessary to particularize by name. This great conjuror defied all the\nordinary laws of nature. He would not condescend to exhibit such vulgar\nmountebank tricks as crunching red-hot coals in his mouth, and dining\non tenpenny nails; but he struck the faculty with the greatest horror,\nby making poison of all kinds his common food; breakfasting on a strong\nsolution of arsenic, and taking a short drachm of prussic acid before\ndinner, as a whet for his appetite. More wonderful still was his manner\nof preparing this dinner: he used to have an oven heated intensely, every\nday, into which he walked, or crawled, with the greatest composure,\ntaking with him a raw beef-steak, which in the course of seven or eight\nminutes was well cooked by the intense heat of the place, whilst the only\neffect of its high temperature on him was to quicken his pulse a little,\nand produce a gentle perspiration. Fire, indeed, appeared his element,\nand so perfectly could he control and master it, that he received almost\nby acclamation the title of \u201cthe Fire King.\u201d\n\nHuman greatness, however is but transitory, and even the laurels of the\nFire King were wrested from him by the envious doctors of the metropolis,\nwho wished him to drink prussic acid of _their own manufacture_, an\ninvitation which he very politely and prudently declined. But though on\nthis account suspicion was cast on his pretensions as a poison-drinker,\nyet his reputation as a \u201cFire King\u201d remained untarnished. He could\ncontinue in an oven heated above the temperature at which water boils,\nand he did so daily. There was no trick in this performance, for he\nused to take raw eggs into the oven with him, and send them out to the\ncompany, well done by the heat of the place alone. It was thought no\nman could imitate his example. But however wonderful the feats of this\nconjuror may appear to persons unacquainted with science, and while it\nmust be confessed they were performed with an appearance of daring and\ntemerity which certainly entitled the exhibitor to some degree of praise,\nyet his performances were merely a striking illustration of the power\nwhich every individual possesses of regulating the temperature of his own\nbody; and there was scarcely one person of his audience but might himself\nhave been the exhibitor, with very little training and with very little\ncourage.\n\nOf all the functions of the human body one of the most wonderful is that\nby which it maintains in every climate, and in every variety of season,\nan almost equal temperature. It would appear to be necessary for the due\nperformance of the vital functions that this temperature should never\nsuffer any great degree of variation, and nature has accordingly provided\nthe means by which, when exposed to cold, the body can generate heat; and\nwhen exposed to heat, so reduce its temperature that no inconvenience\nshall result. Before considering the manner in which these very\ndifferent though equally necessary results are produced, it will not be\nuninteresting to notice a few examples of the power of endurance shown by\nhuman beings and the lower animals in regard to extremes of temperature.\nIn another paper we will endeavour to explain the cause.\n\nOne of the most striking and familiar of the laws of heat is what is\ntermed by philosophers \u201cits tendency to an equilibrium.\u201d For instance,\nif a heated iron ball is suspended nearly in contact with one quite\ncold, the former in a short time will have imparted so much of its heat\nto the latter that they will soon become almost of equal temperature.\nIf a penny piece is thrown into a kettle of boiling water it will soon\nbecome as hot as the boiling water itself. If a cup of water is exposed\nto a temperature below 32 degrees, it parts with so much of its natural\nheat, to come into a state of equilibrium with the medium in which it\nis placed, that it is converted into ice. These and many more familiar\ninstances might be mentioned as illustrating the law of heat above\nalluded to. In short, it may be received as one of the best established\nfacts in philosophy, that any substance, no matter what may be its\ntexture or natural qualities, provided it does not possess life, will\nsoon acquire and maintain the same temperature as that of the medium in\nwhich it is placed, so long as it continues in that medium. A piece of\nthe metal platinum in the furnace of a glass-house may be kept at a white\nheat for years; a similar piece of metal, in an ice-house, will remain\nbelow 32 degrees so long as it is kept there.\n\nIt would be unnecessary to notice so particularly these well-known facts,\nbut that they will tend to render more striking the power which living\nbodies possess of resisting the law to which all unorganized bodies are\nsubject. Any thing possessing life _can maintain a different temperature\nto the medium in which it lives_. The natural heat of fishes is two or\nthree degrees above that of the water in which they live; the natural\nheat of creatures which live within the bowels of the earth, like the\nearth-worm for example, is as much above the usual temperature of the\nearth; while man himself maintains the heat of his body, as shown by the\nthermometer placed under the tongue or armpits, at about 98 degrees,\nunder every variety of season, and in every climate under the sun. Were\na human being to be kept imprisoned in an ice-house, the heat of his\nbody could never sink to 32 degrees (the freezing point) while life\nremained. In these mighty reservoirs of ice and cold, the arctic regions,\nthe blood of the rude creatures who exist there is as warm as that of\nourselves; and at the torrid zone, where the heat of the sun is almost\ninsupportable, the animal heat of the human frame is only one or two\ndegrees higher than it is at the frozen poles.\n\nThe power of the superior animals, and especially of man, to resist\nhigh degrees of temperature, is very extraordinary. The account of\nthe performances of the \u201cFire King\u201d already noticed, is a sufficient\nproof of this. Dr Southwood Smith, in his excellent treatise on \u201cAnimal\nPhysiology,\u201d gives a far more interesting description, however, of the\naccidental discovery of this property of life, from which we quote the\nfollowing particulars:--\u201cIn the year 1760, at Rochefoucault, Messrs\nDu Hamel and Tillet, having occasion to use a large public oven on\nthe same day in which bread had been baked in it, wished to ascertain\nwith precision its degree of temperature. This they endeavoured to\naccomplish by introducing a thermometer into the oven at the end of a\nshovel. On being withdrawn, the thermometer indicated a degree of heat\nconsiderably above that of boiling water; but M. Tillet, convinced that\nthe thermometer had fallen several degrees on approaching the mouth of\nthe oven, and appearing to be at a loss how to rectify this error, a\ngirl, one of the attendants on the oven, offered to enter and mark with\na pencil the height at which the thermometer stood within the oven.\nThe girl smiled at M. Tillet\u2019s appearing to hesitate at this strange\nproposition, and entering the oven, marked with a pencil the thermometer\nas standing at 260 degrees of Fahrenheit\u2019s scale. M. Tillet began to\nexpress his anxiety for the welfare of his female assistant, and to\npress her return. This female salamander, however, assuring him that she\nfelt no inconvenience from her situation, remained there ten minutes\nlonger, when at length, the thermometer standing at that time at 288\ndegrees, or 76 degrees above that of boiling water, she came out of the\noven, her complexion indeed considerably heightened, but her respiration\nby no means quick or laborious. The publication of this transaction\nexciting a great degree of attention, several philosophers repeated\nsimilar experiments, amongst which the most accurate and decisive were\nthose performed by Doctors Fordyce and Blagden. The rooms in which these\ncelebrated experimenters conducted their researches were heated by flues\nin the floor. There was neither any chimney in them, nor any vent for\nthe air, excepting through the crevice at the door. Having taken off\nhis coat, waistcoat, and shirt, and being furnished with wooden shoes\ntied on with lint, Dr Blagden went into one of the rooms as soon as the\nthermometer indicated a degree of heat above that of boiling water.\nThe first impression of this heated air upon his body was exceedingly\ndisagreeable, but in a few minutes his uneasiness was removed by a\nprofuse perspiration. At the end of twelve minutes he left the room, very\nmuch fatigued, but no otherwise disordered. The thermometer had risen to\n220 degrees; the boiling point is 212 degrees. In other experiments it\nwas found that a heat even of 260 degrees could be borne with tolerable\nease. At these high temperatures every piece of metal about the body\nof the experimenters became intolerably hot; small quantities of water\nplaced in metallic vessels quickly boiled. Though the air of this room,\nwhich at one period indicated a heat of 264 degrees, could be breathed\nwith impunity, yet of course the finger could not be put into the boiling\nwater, which indicated only a heat of 212 degrees; nor could it bear the\ntouch of quicksilver heated only to 120 degrees, nor scarcely that of\nspirits of wine at 110 degrees. But in a physiological view, the most\ncurious and important point to be noticed is, that while the body was\nthus exposed to a temperature of 264 degrees, the heat of the body itself\nnever rose above 101 degrees, or at most 102 degrees. In one experiment,\nwhile the heat of the room was 202 degrees, the heat of the body was\nonly 99\u00bd degrees; its natural temperature in a state of health being 98\ndegrees.\u201d\n\nA similar power of withstanding extreme degrees of temperature is one\nof the peculiar properties of every thing possessing life. It is well\nknown that an egg containing the living principle possesses the power of\nself-preservation for several weeks, although exposed to a degree of heat\nwhich would occasion the putrifaction of dead animal matter. During the\nperiod of incubation (hatching) the egg is kept at a heat of 103 degrees,\nthe hen\u2019s egg for three, that of the duck for four weeks; yet when the\nchick is hatched, the entire yolk is found perfectly sweet, and that\npart of the white which has not been expended in the nourishment of the\nyoung bird is also quite fresh. It is found that if the living principle\nbe destroyed, as it may be instantaneously, by passing the electric\nfluid through the egg, it becomes putrid in the same time as other dead\nanimal matter. The power of the egg in resisting cold is proved to be\nequally great by several curious experiments of Hunter, the celebrated\nphysiologist, which were so managed as to show at the same time both\nthe power of the vital principle in resisting the physical agent, and\nthe influence of the physical agent in diminishing the energy of the\nvital principle. Thus he exposed an egg to the temperature of 17 degrees\nof Fahrenheit\u2019s thermometer, he found that it took about half an hour\nto freeze it. When thawed, and again exposed to a cold atmosphere, it\nwas frozen in one half the time, and when only at the temperature of 25\ndegrees. He then put a fresh egg, and one that had previously been frozen\nand again thawed, into a cold mixture at 15 degrees: the dead egg was\nfrozen twenty-five minutes sooner than the fresh one. It is obvious that\nin the one case the undiminished vitality of the fresh egg enabled it to\nresist the low temperature for so long a period; in the other case the\ndiminished or destroyed vitality of the frozen egg occasioned it speedily\nto yield to the influence of the physical agent.\n\nAnimals can withstand the effects of heat far better than the severity of\ncold. The human frame suffers comparatively little even in the burning\ndeserts of Arabia, compared with what it endures in those wastes of ice\nand snow which form the polar regions. Here the body is stunted in its\ngrowth; there is no energy of mind or character; and life itself is only\npreserved by extraordinary care and attention. When a person is exposed\nto intense cold, it produces partial imbecility; he neglects even those\nprecautions which may enable him to withstand its severity. He refuses\nto exercise his limbs, without which they become torpid; and, unable to\nresist the drowsiness that seizes on his frame, he resigns himself to its\ninfluence, becomes insensible, and dies. Even in our own climate this is\nnot an unfrequent occurrence; and we cannot conclude this paper better\nthan by quoting the expressive lines of Thomson, describing the death of\nan unhappy peasant from the severity of a winter storm:--\n\n    As thus the snows arise; and foul, and fierce,\n    All winter drives along the darkened air;\n    In his own loose revolving fields, the swain\n    Disaster\u2019d stands; sees other hills ascend,\n    Of unknown joyless brow; and other scenes,\n    Of horrid prospect, shag the trackless plain:\n    Nor finds the river nor the forest, hid\n    Beneath the formless wild; but wanders on\n    From hill to dale, still more and more astray,\n    Impatient flouncing through the drifted heaps,\n    Stung with the thoughts of home; the thoughts of home\n    Rush on his nerves, and call their vigour forth\n    In many a vain attempt. How sinks his soul!\n    What black despair, what horror fills his breast!\n    When for the dusky spot, which fancy feign\u2019d\n    His tufted cottage rising through the snow,\n    He meets the roughness of the middle waste\n    Far from the track and blest abode of man,\n    While round him might resistless closes fast,\n    And every tempest, howling o\u2019er his head,\n    Renders the savage wildness more wild.\n    Then throng the busy shapes into his mind,\n    Of covered pits unfathomably deep,\n    A dire descent! beyond the power of frost;\n    Of faithless bogs; Of precipices huge\n    Smoothed up with snow; and what is land, unknown,\n    What water of the still unfrozen spring,\n    In the loose marsh or solitary lake,\n    Where the fresh fountain from the bottom boils.\n    These check his fearful steps; and down he sinks\n    Beneath the shelter of the shapeless drift,\n    Thinking o\u2019er all the bitterness of death,\n    Mix\u2019d with the tender anguish nature shoots\n    Through the wrung bosom of the dying man--\n    His wife--his children--and his friends unseen.\n    In vain for him the officious wife prepares\n    The fire, fair, blazing, and the vestment warm.\n    In vain his little children, peeping out\n    Into the mingling storm, demand their sire\n    With tears of artless innocence. Alas!\n    Nor wife, nor children more shall he behold--\n    Nor friends, nor sacred home. On every nerve\n    The deadly winter seizes; shuts up sense,\n    And, o\u2019er his inmost vitals creeping cold,\n    Lays him along the snows, a stiffened corse,\n    Stretch\u2019d out, and bleaching in the northern blast.\n\n                                                       J. S. D.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nGRAVITY.--Gravity is an arrant scoundrel, and one of the most dangerous\nkind too, because a sly one; and we verily believe that more honest,\nwell-meaning people are bubbled out of their goods and money by it in one\ntwelvemonth, than by pocket-picking and shop-lifting in seven. The very\nessence of gravity is design, and consequently deceit; it is in fact a\ntaught trick to gain credit with the world for more sense and knowledge\nthan a man is really worth.\n\n\n\n\nWAR.\n\n\nWar, it is said, kindles patriotism; by fighting for our country we learn\nto love it. But the patriotism which is cherished by war, is ordinarily\nfalse and spurious, a vice and not a virtue, a scourge to the world, a\nnarrow unjust passion, which aims to exalt a particular state on the\nhumiliation and destruction of other nations. A genuine enlightened\npatriot discerns that the welfare of his own country is involved in the\ngeneral progress of society; and in the character of a patriot, as well\nas of a Christian, he rejoices in the liberty and prosperity of other\ncommunities, and is anxious to maintain with them the relations of peace\nand amity.\n\nIt is said that a military spirit is the defence of a country. But it\nmore frequently endangers the vital interests of a nation, by embroiling\nit with other states. This spirit, like every other passion, is impatient\nfor gratification, and often precipitates a country into unnecessary\nwar. A people have no need of a military spirit. Let them be attached to\ntheir government and institutions by habit, by early associations, and\nespecially by experimental conviction of their excellence, and they will\nnever want means or spirit to defend them.\n\nWar is recommended as a method of redressing national grievances. But\nunhappily the weapons of war, from their very nature, are often wielded\nmost successfully by the unprincipled. Justice and force have little\ncongeniality. Should not Christians everywhere strive to promote the\nreference of national as well as of individual disputes to an impartial\numpire? Is a project of this nature more extravagant than the idea of\nreducing savage hordes to a state of regular society? The last has been\naccomplished. Is the first to be abandoned in despair?\n\nIt is said that war sweeps off the idle, dissolute, and vicious members\nof the community. Monstrous argument! If a government may for this end\nplunge a nation into war, it may with equal justice consign to the\nexecutioner any number of its subjects whom it may deem a burden on the\nstate. The fact is, that war commonly generates as many profligates as\nit destroys. A disbanded army fills the community with at least as many\nabandoned members as at first it absorbed.\n\nIt is sometimes said that a military spirit favours liberty. But how is\nit, that nations, after fighting for ages, are so generally enslaved?\nThe truth is, that liberty has no foundation but in private and public\nvirtue; and virtue, as we have seen, is not the common growth of war.\n\nBut the great argument remains to be discussed. It is said that without\nwar to excite and invigorate the human mind, some of its noblest energies\nwill slumber, and its highest qualities, courage, magnanimity, fortitude,\nwill perish. To this I answer, that if war is to be encouraged among\nnations because it nourishes energy and heroism, on the same principle\nwar in our families, and war between neighbourhoods, villages, and\ncities, ought to be encouraged; for such contests would equally tend to\npromote heroic daring and contempt of death. Why shall not different\nprovinces of the same empire annually meet with the weapons of death, to\nkeep alive their courage? We shrink at this suggestion with horror; but\nwhy shall contests of nations, rather than of provinces or families, find\nshelter under this barbarous argument?\n\nI observe again: if war be a blessing, because it awakens energy and\ncourage, then the savage state is peculiarly privileged; for every savage\nis a soldier, and his whole modes of life tend to form him to invincible\nresolution. On the same principle, those early periods of society were\nhappy, when men were called to contend, not only with one another, but\nwith beasts of prey; for to these excitements we owe the heroism of\nHercules and Theseus. On the same principle, the feudal ages were more\nfavoured than the present; for then every baron was a military chief,\nevery castle frowned defiance, and every vassal was trained to arms. And\ndo we really wish that the earth should again be overrun with monsters,\nor abandoned to savage or feudal violence, in order that heroes may be\nmultiplied? If not, let us cease to vindicate war as affording excitement\nto energy and courage.--_Channing._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSuffer not your spirit to be subdued by misfortunes, but, on the\ncontrary, steer right onward, with a courage greater than your fate seems\nto allow.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n    Printed and published every Saturday by GUNN and CAMERON, at\n    the Office of the General Advertiser, No. 6, Church Lane,\n    College Green, Dublin.--Agents:--R. GROOMBRIDGE, Panyer Alley,\n    Paternoster Row, London; SIMMS and DINHAM, Exchange Street,\n    Manchester; C. DAVIES, North John Street, Liverpool; JOHN\n    MENZIES, Prince\u2019s Street, Edinburgh; and DAVID ROBERTSON,\n    Trongate, Glasgow.","title":"The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. 50, June 12, 1841","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":11953}