The night before his death, Dan went into convulsions and his wife asked him if she should get a priest. Dan agreed. The priest came and gave him the last rites. At one o’clock in the morning on Saturday 18 February 1820 Dan died in his weeping wife’s arms. According to Patrick Myler’s book Regency Rouge, Dan Donnelly his Life and Legends (O’Brien Press, 1976), Dan’s last words to his wife were: ‘I have been given so much and I have done so little’. He was only one month shy of his 32nd birthday when he died. Despite his self-depreciating last words, Dan Donnelly will always be remembered as a hero of the Irish people.
In 1979 a Blue Plaque was erected in Pill Lane, Dublin, commemorating the place of his death. In the Curragh of Kildare a stone obelisk was erected in 1888 in the centre of Donnelly’s Hollow with the immortal words ‘DAN DONNELLY BEAT COOPER ON THIS SPOT 13 DECEMBER 1815’ in relief text on the stone surface.
Dan was buried for a brief period in the ancient ‘Bully’s Acre’ cemetery in Kilmainham, Dublin, but his body was dug up by graverobbers and sold to an unscrupulous surgeon named Hall. The surgeon removed the corpse’s right arm and returned the rest of the body for reburial. Dan Donnelly was only one of many victims of the body-snatchers. Judging by a report published in The Lancet in 1830, Bully’s Acre was a playing field for the students of Dublin’s medical schools:
An abundant supply is obtained from the burial ground … there is no watch on this ground and the subjects are to be got with great facility.
Eventually the arm was preserved in red lead paint and sent to a medical college in Edinburgh, Scotland. Here it was used by students to study how the human arm operated. The arm then somehow ended up in a Victorian freakshow, travelling round Britain as part of a circus.
In the early twentieth century it finally got back to Ireland and it became the property of a Belfast bookmaker called Hugh ‘Texas’ McAleavy in 1904, who displayed it in his pub. McAleavy fell out of love with the macabre exhibition and had it put in his pub’s attic where he told his staff not to enter as Donnelly’s ghost was there. Eventually Dan’s arm got back to Kildare, to the town of Kilcullen, in the 1950s, where it remained on show for forty-three years in the Hideout pub, which belonged to Jim Byrne. He decided to recreate the fight between Donnelly and Cooper at the Hollow in the Curragh.
The arm then travelled to America, where it went on display and then ended up in the Ulster American Folk Museum in Omagh Northern Ireland. It then found its way to the GAA Museum in Croke Park, Dublin, before returning home again. The arm is a grisly shadow to what was once the larger-than-life character Sir Dan Donnelly. Legend has it that he had the longest arms of any boxer and his reach was colossal.
One thing we know for sure, despite Dan’s roguish and wayward sensibilities, he had the heart of a lion. When Ireland’s people were at their lowest and there seemed to be nothing left to raise their broken spirits, Dan Donnelly stood up and gave the country a sense of pride and integrity that was thought to have died out with the ancient warriors of Erin.
Crawley Common’s the place, and who chanced to be there,
Saw an Irishman all in his glory appear,
With his sprig of shillelagh and shamrock so green.
When in sweet Dublin city he first saw the light,
The midwife he kicked, put the nurse in a fright,
But said they, upon viewing him belly and back,
‘He’s the boy that will serve them all out with a whack,
From his sprig of shillelagh and shamrock to green’.
He thought about fighting before he could talk,
And instead of a go-cart, he first learned to walk,
With his sprig of shillelagh and shamrock so green,
George’s Quay was his school, the right place for good breeding,
Where the boys mind their stops, if they don’t mind their reading;
There Dan often studied from morning till dark,
And could write, but for shortness, like making his mark,
With his sprig of shillelagh and shamrock so green.
At his trade, as a chip, he was choice in his stuff,
None pleased him but what was hard, knotty and tough,
Like his sprig of shillelagh and shamrock so green,
Nor to strip for his work would he ever refuse,
And right hand and left he the mallet could use,
Length and distance could measure without line or rule,
And a flooring was famous without any tool
But his sprig of shillelagh and shamrock so green.
Whenever he arrogance happened to meet,
No matter in whom, he took out the conceit,
With his sprig of shillelagh and shamrock so green.
To the best of all nations that crossed Dublin bar,
Dan was ready at tipping a mill or a spar,
The hot-headed Welshmen served out by the lot
And cut up their leeks small enough for the pot,
With his sprig of shillelagh and shamrock so green.
Hall and Cooper went over with wonderful haste,
On the soil where it grew, they were longing to taste
Of the sprig of shillelagh and shamrock so green.
On the plains of Kildare ’twas proposed they should meet
And Donnelly wished to give both a good treat;
Yet so such things as Hall, gallant Dan never stooped,
But he took the stout Cooper, and Cooper well hooped,
With his sprig of shillelagh and shamrock so green.
And as Irishmen always politeness are taught,
He the visit returned, and to England he brought
His neat sprig of shillelagh and shamrock so green.
With the good-natured stranger the English seemed shy,
And Cooper no more fickle fortune would try;
But at last the game Oliver entered the field
And, though on his own soil, was soon forced to yield
To the sprig of shillelagh and shamrock so green.
With his kind English friends, he’ll again just to please them,
Soon meet, and if troubled with money, soon lose them,
With his sprig of shillelagh and shamrock so green,
But if John Bull is wise, he’ll from market hang back
And keep all the corn he has good in his sack,
As to him the next season no harvest will bring,
For, like hail, Dan will beat down the blossoms of spring,
With his sprig of shillelagh and shamrock so green.
2
THE WIZARD EARL OF KILDARE
When I was a young lad growing up in Kildare, I was always in and around Maynooth, a small village that is now a booming satellite town to Dublin city. Standing proudly and forlorn like a great ruined memory of a majestic past is Maynooth Castle. I was always fascinated by its grand and spectral structure. I remember one evening a long time ago now, when I and an old friend from Maynooth – who has passed away since then – were staring up at its mighty doorway and over the arch was a stone carved coat of arms, worn down by centuries of harsh Irish elements. We could not figure out what the two strange figures were holding up the coat of arms on either side. They were not human, but they were not the usual lions or unicorns one would expect. They resembled almost alien-like creatures. Their features were so worn away it was almost impossible to decipher them. Many years later I was to find out that those figures were a pair of monkeys. I enquired further and was to find out, much to my amazement and delight, that the castle once belonged to a mighty wizard. This is his story.
Gerald Fitzgerald (1525–1585), was the Eleventh Earl of Kildare. His family had owned Maynooth Castle for over 700 years. He was educated in Italy and when he returned to Kildare in 1552 he had developed an interest in medicine, astronomy and metallergy, much to the curiosity of his community. They spied him conjuring and making spells and so they referred to him as the ‘Wizard Earl’.
One Midsummer’s Eve, Earl Ge
rald got ready to gather fern seed. It is said that fern seeds can make you invisible but only if they are gathered on Midsummer’s Eve, just as the sun is going down, neither a minute before nor a minute after. And you must be very watchful when you are about to gather the seeds, for there are always bodies who will try to do you harm, and they surely will do it, if all your wits and mind are not on your purpose. For this reason you must be completely alone when you are gathering the fern seed.
The ferns grew at the top of the Hill of Allen and the earl made sure that he arrived there at the right minute on Midsummer’s Eve. He had all his wits and all his mind in harness and he was ready to say his spell:
Oh! fern seed
I hold on high
Let me go unseen
To mortal eyes.
Well now! It was then he saw heads popping up behind every stone and rock on the hillside. The country people had expected his arrival and were there to watch all he did.
The earl was furious and if he had had a sword with him he would have sliced off many heads. But you may not carry iron or steel with you on Midsummer’s Eve amongst the enchantments, for it is sure to break any spell. So the wizard carried no sword, but he changed into a mighty stag with high and wide antlers and stood menacing the people, sending them running and screaming in all directions.
But it was now too late for the earl to gather the fern seed. He changed back into himself again and went down the hillside, mounted his horse and made the long journey home to his castle.
When he got there he went into a secret chamber, where he sat and read by the light of a magic lamp. He was reading a book of deep magic that was propped up before his eyes, when there was a knock on his chamber door. He opened the door and there stood his young countess.
‘I wanted to see what your secret chamber is like, Gerald,’ said the countess.
The earl was reluctant to let her in as there were jars filled with things in the chamber that he did not want her to see – terrible things! ‘Yes my sweet love,’ replied the earl, ‘but I was just on my way out onto the tower to look at the night sky.’
‘Will you please take me up with you Gerald and tell me the names of all the stars,’ asked the countess.
‘Of course my sweet love,’ replied the earl.
They walked up the winding stairs and out onto the top of the tower. Behind them followed Colgan, the castle’s monkey. It was thought by the villagers that Colgan was there to assist the earl with his wizardries but this was not so. A monkey was kept at Maynooth Castle for the reason that a monkey had saved the life of an infant heir. The place had caught fire and the child was trapped in a burning room. The monkey grabbed the infant and jumped onto a tree outside, rescuing the child from the flaming room.
Ever since then there was always a monkey living at the castle – and there are two monkeys on the Fitzgerald coat of arms to this very day.
When the earl and his lady reached the top of the tower, they looked down and saw bonfires blazing on every side. There was shouting and clamouring coming from the country people who were driving their cattle through the fires to free themselves from the evil spirits that they felt sure were upon them after they had witnessed the earl change into a stag.
The earl laughed at their foolish, ignorant ways and he and his lady looked up from the fires and gazed at the sky that was dotted with beautiful, bright stars. The earl pointed out the constellations, the North Star, the planets and told his countess wondrous stories about the heavens.
As he spoke to her he remembered that he hadn’t given her much of his company since they were wedded, because his wizardries had taken up his days and nights. But now he would forget them for a while and devote his time to his beautiful wife.
His lover looked at him and told him that she would never really know him.
‘Why do you say such a thing?’ asked the earl.
‘Because you can change into so many shapes, as soon as I know you in one, you change into another!’
‘How do you know this my sweet love?’ asked the earl.
‘The country folk have seen you do it and I have heard it from the servants. You frighten the people terribly, you wicked-shape-shifter!’ she said playfully.
‘I should frighten them more. I wish I could leave them all speechless!’ roared the earl.
‘But how will I ever get to know you in all your shapes Gerald?’
‘You need know me only in one my love.’
She begged and pleaded with him to change shape. Then the earl spoke softly: ‘My love the people say that I can change into a thousand different shapes, but the truth is I can only change into three.’
‘Oh! Let me see them,’ she pleaded, and she swore she would never ask him again.
With a heavy heart the earl agreed. He looked at her in a way that he had never done before, which made her shiver. He told her that if anyone who loved him was ever made afraid by the change, he would disappear and no mortal soul would ever see him again.
‘Where would you disappear to?’ asked the countess.
‘I would have to go to the fairy mounds, where I would live for hundreds of years. Mortals would never see me again, except on Midsummer’s Eve. I am very much afraid that you will be afraid of the changes,’ he said to his wife.
‘You could never make me afraid. I would know it was you no matter what you changed into,’ replied the countess. She held his face in her hands and kissed him ever so gently. ‘Show me,’ she whispered.
The earl made her promise not to be frightened and he stood back from her.
She watched in awe as he muttered a spell that made his body twist, turn and shift in all directions as he changed into a great stag with lowered antlers.
‘I am not afraid,’ she said.
The stag moved away and then changed into the form of a fierce mountain cat with wild staring eyes. She said she was not afraid, but she was, just a little bit. Other accounts state that he turned into a giant serpent that coiled itself around the castle, but this would surely have scared the poor woman half to death.
Then the cat drew back very slowly and, as before, the earl changed back into his own true self.
‘And now for the final change! I know you will not be scared of this one,’ announced the earl.
He changed before her eyes into a tiny toddler just up to her knee. She was so enchanted by this shape that she cried out to him not to change back for a while. She thought to herself that she loved her husband even more now that he was so small and innocent, especially as she had not been blessed with any children of her own.
But then she screamed out, as the monkey Colgan, who had been hiding in the shadows, suddenly bound forward and lifted the child up into his arms. Hearing her scream he sprang up onto the parapet with the child.
She was terrified and her heart pounded in her breast as she watched the monkey leaping from the tower with the child in its grasp.
There was a terrible moaning sigh as if the night wind had passed over her, carrying with it the earl’s spirit.
When Colgan returned there was nothing in his arms. He jumped down from the parapet and crouched in a corner of the room.
The earl had disappeared! She ran to the stairway calling to the servants who came with torches and searched outside with her to see if the earl had fallen from the tower, but there was no trace of him. He had gone to the fairy mounds.
The young countess grew old and died, and to this day her ghost roams the plains of Kildare searching and calling out for her lost earl. What a cruel trick was played on this poor creature, whose ghost only rests on Midsummer’s Eve.
***
Other earls and other countesses lived, grew old and died at Maynooth Castle. But still Earl Gerald lived on in the fairy mounds with the heroes who were to help in the deliverance of the land and he continues to be their leader.
On Midsummer’s Eve he rides abroad with a train of horsemen whose steeds wear no shoes. Earl Gerald’s horse wears shoes, but t
hey are not of iron, being made of solid silver. And when those shoes are worn thin he will know that the people are ready to take help from him and his army and that it is time for him to come.
One Midsummer’s Eve, a man was crossing the Curragh of Kildare and he saw a single rider going towards where a company of riders awaited him. ‘Has the time come yet?’ they cried and the rider replied, ‘Not yet! Not yet!’ That was just before the earl’s descendant, Lord Edward Fitzgerald, was planning an uprising with his comrade Archibald Hamilton Rowan at Rathcoffey Castle.
The descendents of the same perfidious people who had disturbed the earl’s gathering of fern seed knew of the legend of the earl and warned the invaders not to strike against Lord Edward on Midsummer’s Eve. And it was these same descendants who warned cruel King Henry not to execute the earl’s half-brother, Silken Thomas, on Midsummer’s Eve for he might be saved by the Wizard Earl and his troop of riders.
***
One evening a tinker man and a blacksmith were walking through the Bog of Allen. They had been squabbling over who had the heavier pack and who should carry the lighter one, when all of a sudden they were startled by the sound of galloping hooves thundering towards them. They could see a huge team of horses being led by a magnificent-looking man on a great white charger with glittering hooves.
The majestic looking man raised an arm, causing the rest of his company to stand still. He dismounted his steed and asked the blacksmith to look at the shoes to see if they were worn thin. Sure enough, the shoes were made of pure solid silver and none of them were worn thin and the blacksmith confirmed this and he added he had never seen such a magnificent set of shoes in all his life as a blacksmith. The stranger replied: ‘Magnificent to you, but to me they are a terrible curse!’ He then asked the tinker man the same question and he could only confirm what his colleague had said.
Kildare Folk Tales Page 3