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once a place of considerable importance, and must have dominated the valley. No doubt it was originally a Kavanagh castle, for, in a lease of the Abbey of Doune, granted in 1567 to that strange adventurer Thomas Stuckeley (then Seneschal of the County Wexford), the lands are styled the "Lands of the Abbey of Doune, in the O'Morrow's Country." Consequently, Clonogan Castle must have been in the O'Morrow's Country also, as it was not far distant from the Abbey of Doune; and situated as it was in the midst of the Kavanagh strongholds, it would have been impossible for any sept but the Clan Kavanagh to have held. it. Yet the valley was not originally theirs-it was the patrimony of the O'Neils of Leinster. In "a Deveyse for the reformatyon of Laynster,"

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presented to the king in 1540, this castle is called "The Castell of Clonogan, the Kinge's Castell," so that it seems probable that the Crown obliged the Kavanaghs to give it up when taking from them the Castles of Clohamon and Clonmullen, which were made royal castles, although the latter castle-that of Clonmullen-remained practically in the Kavanaghs' hands, as they were appointed its hereditary constables.

Quiet and peaceful-looking as the valley is now, it was not always so, for at one time the northern pass into Wexford was through it. Poulmounty at one end of the Leinster range, and the valley of Clonegal at the other, formed the two passes from the north into the County

Wexford, and consequently in the convulsions that followed the Insurrection of 1641, it was the theatre of much military activity; and when Lord Ormond left Dublin, in 1642, at the head of an army of 2,500 foot and 800 horse, with "two brasse culverines and four brasse field pieces,” for the purpose of opposing the Confederates, he rested his troops at Clonegal, and doubtless felt more sure of a friendly reception there than he would elsewhere, as it was situated on the estate of Lord Esmond, the founder of Huntington Castle, an old and trusted military commander, who was as strong a supporter of the unfortunate King Charles I. as he was himself, and who was at that very time commanding the Royal troops at Duncannon Fort. This confidence seemed to have led to a certain amount of carelessness on the part of his following, who forgot that whoever might be the owner of Clonegal, they were in the immediate neighbourhood of a strong Confederate leader, Sir Morgan Kavanagh, of Clonmullen (also known as Sir Murragh MacMurragh), eighteenth in descent from Dermot MacMurrough, King of Leinster; and doubtless his scouts were in all the neighbouring woods, and when the head of Lord Ormond's medical staff, "Chiefe Chirurgeon Mr. Coddell," lagged behind, they pounced on him, and carried him off, carriage and horses, drugs, and all. Knowing as we do now the ideas then in existence as to medical treatment, we must say that they conferred an unintentional, benefit on the Royalist troops, and, perhaps, materially aided in bringing about the defeat of the Confederates; for certain it is, whether owing to the unwonted supply of drugs, or from some other cause, they were defeated, and Sir Morgan Kavanagh lost his life at the battle of Bailinvegga shortly afterwards. But a very different visit from the friendly one of Lord Ormond and his army was paid eight years after-in 1650— to the village of Clonegal. The military usurper, Cromwell, who, in order to reform the monarchy, cut off the king's head, and established a military despotism that recognised no authority but his own, and who, in order to reform the churches, turned out all the Protestant clergy; and, as an old writer quaintly says, "he beheaded the churches, and stripped them clean bare," was about to make himself felt there as he did to the remotest corners of the country. His troops, under Colonels Reynolds and Hewson, having taken Tullow Castle, which was then commanded by Colonel Butler, a detachment of them marched from that to Clonegal, into the very heart of the country held by the hill tribes, and there tradition tells us that these tribes made a last and desperate stand, a brave but fruitless effort to withstand the invader. Nothing seems to the writer of this sketch more remarkable than the feebleness of the opposition that was, as a general rule, offered to Cromwell. It can only be compared to that offered to King Henry II. when engaged in a similar enterprise; and in both instances, the ease with which the conquerors took possession of the country may be attributed to the same cause.

The inhabitants of Ireland were so deeply engaged in their never

ending quarrels with one another that they had no energies left to devote to repelling an invader, and numbers were longing for any strong hand which would have power enough to give peace to the land. Doubtless, also, many thought that Cromwell, like others, would have been satisfied with an empty conquest, and would have returned to England, leaving things to go on much as they did before. But, however the dwellers in the valleys may have failed to realise the situation, the Kavanaghs, the O'Byrnes, and the O'Tooles of the hills seemed to have foreseen what was coming, and determined to make, at all events, a stand, before the Cromwellian roller passed over them. For that purpose they mustered in force in Clonegal. Tradition does not tell us who commanded them, but, in all probability, it was Colonel Daniel, or Donnell, Kavanagh, the last of the chieftains of Clonmullen, who was called after his grandfather, the well-known Donnell Spaineach, and who himself, after the defeat, escaped to Spain, and died unmarried there. The traditional account of this forlorn hope of the hill tribes, which is still green in the memories of the older inhabitants, tells us that the Cromwellian troops marched from Tullow along the old road through Orchard (a place where one of the last of the Bards, "Fleming," once gathered his pupils around him, and the site of whose residence is still known as the "Schoolhouse Field"), and, passing from that over the hill of Monaughrim, they found the village of Clonegal lying at their feet. The mountain men lay in ambuscade behind the houses at either side of the street, hoping to take the Cromwellians by surprise, and to throw them into disorder; as soon as the advancing troops had passed into the street, they rushed upon them. The Cromwellians received them with perfect coolness, and instantly formed so as to present an unbroken front to the enemy as they poured in at either side of the street, and then opened on them, at close quarters, a deadly fire of musketry. The carnage was dreadful; and when the mountain men found that the surprise was a failure, they fled; discipline prevailed against courage, as it has often done before and since. The remains of one division attempted to cross the Derry, but the Cromwellian vanguard, which had previously passed over the bridge, lined the banks, and the Derry was soon "red with blood and choked with dead." The remains of another division fled to Kilcarry, which was then a little village adjoining Clonegal. It was immediately surrounded, and it is believed that not one escaped; and, doubtless, it was the feeling of bitterness caused by this attempted surprise that led the Cromwellians to treat with such severity the Clonmullen sept, and to so strongly garrison all the surrounding castles.

They placed a garrison at Clonegal, doubtless in the Castle of Clonogan, for we find, three years after the battle of Clonegal, in 1653, Dudley Colclough, Esq., petitioned the government for payment for the goods and provisions made use of by the garrison at Clonegal. They had also garrisons at Carnew and Clohamon, and "other places in the

counties of Wicklow and Wexford."

There can be little doubt that, if the lines of the Cromwellians had been broken, the mountain men would have exterminated them; but the long street of Clonegal was not a suitable place even for an attempted surprise. We must suppose that the width of the street was always much the same as it is at present, and it was too wide to make the attempt to throw the Cromwellians into confusion likely to be successful. There is room enough outside the houses for two pathways, two rows of trees, and for troops to form, so that unless they were panic-stricken, the attempt was likely to be a failure. Mr. Charles Topham Bowden, an English officer, who visited Clonegal one hundred years ago, has preserved in his "Tour," a mention of this local tradition, which is substantially the same as that already given; and he has also placed on record a stanza of an old Irish song descriptive of the battle, which was translated for him into English by the Rev. Mr. M'Daniel, who was at that time the Roman Catholic curate of the parish:

"The sun of thy glory for ever is set,

Ill-fated Hibernia, in darkness profound;
With the blood of thy heroes Kilcarry is wet;
Desolation and death roam at large all around.
The streams of old Derry, which silver were called
By the sweet bards of Orchard in happier days,
Are tainted with murders, and crimson'd with gore,

Choked up with carnage, and stopt in their ways."

You will observe that a hundred years ago it was necessary to translate into English a local song, as Irish was the language spoken; but in later years, not one word of Irish was understood in the valley. I will illustrate this by a story. My old coachman, who has been thirty years in my service, was born and reared in Clonegal. When the last census was taken, I asked Pat had he filled the paper, "Yes, sir," he said. "What language did you say you spoke," I asked? "Irish," he said. 'Why, man," said I, "you never heard a word of Irish spoken. What do you think they speak in England?" "If, sir," said he, "they speak like me, they speak Irish." This was said with such determination that I was obliged at once to give in, and let it pass as a fact that the whole English nation spoke Irish.

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"Desolation" was indeed a very fitting description to give to the patrimony of the Clonmullen sept, for Cromwell seems to have determined to take every precaution that they should give him no further trouble, and he transplanted the whole tribe, so that from Newtownbarry to the Nine Stones high up on the side of Mount Leinster, not one farmer of the name of Kavanagh remains to tell where once that warlike sept was located; the plough passes over the green field where once the strong castle of Clonmullen stood; and although the beautiful mountain

valleys that are to be found between Newtownbarry and the Nine Stones are now inhabited by hardy, thrifty, industrious farmers, the population is of comparatively modern growth, and the old men will tell you that their fathers and grandfathers told them, that when they settled there, the land had lain so long desolate, that the furze bushes had grown into forest trees, in which the magpies built their nests. When the military despotism of Cromwell had passed over, and the king got his own again, there was not one of the Clonmullen Kavanaghs who could claim the beautiful patrimony of their ancestors; for, as I have already mentioned, the last of the chieftains of Clonmullen died childless in a foreign land, and the estates of the family were granted to Arthur, Earl of Anglesey. I have called those estates a beautiful patrimony, because it would be difficult to find a much more picturesque and charming mountain-scene than that which can be enjoyed by those who drive from the well-built, thriving, and beautifully-situated little town of Newtownbarry to the Nine Stones. The contrast between the highly-cultivated valleys and the purple heath-covered mountains, on which the lights and shadows are ever playing, forms a lovely picture; and when visitors have arrived at the highest point to which they can drive, the whole county Carlow, and miles beyond, lie spread out in one vast panorama before them. Mr. Bowden, of a hundred years ago, was as much impressed with the beauty of his surroundings and the courtesy of the inhabitants as visitors are at the present day; and he seems, during his very short visit, to have thoroughly enjoyed himself. He stopped at the hotel of Leonard Brown, a large house in the village, which has been purchased within the last few years for a clergyman's residence. Mr. Bowden admired everything that his very short sojourn enabled him to see, particularly the residences, close to the village, of Mr. Durdin, of Huntington Castle, and Lieutenant Rowan, of Lower Kilcarry. He also admired the pretty thatched cottage called Upper Kilcarry, where, subsequently, Mr. Tighe (of the Woodstock family) and his wife, the gifted poetess, and author of "Psyche," lived.1

1 Authorities quoted :-The State Papers; Loca Patriciana," by the Rev. J. F. Shearman (Journal, 1874-5); Bowden's "Tour"; "Historical Collections," Dublin, 1758, &c.

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