Cathal
Crovederg or "Charles of the Red Hand
From
Wilde's Superstitions of Ireland.
The ruins
of Ballintober Castle are amongst the most magnificent in Connaught,
and are memorable as the last strong- hold of the O'Conors. The castle,
which stands on an elevated ridge by the road-side, above the little
village of Ballintober, four miles from the town of Castlebar, consists
of a quadrangular inclosure, 270 feet in length, and 230 feet in breadth,
with four flanking towers, and one upon each side of the great entrance,
the whole surrounded by a deep fosse, portions of which still retain
water. Mr. Weld has remarked upon the strong resemblance which the towers
of this castle bear to some of those in Wales. "No one tower, it
is true," he says, "is comparable to the Eagle Tower at Caernarvon.
Nevertheless, the south-west tower at Ballintober is a superb piece
of architecture, and, for its general effect, amongst the most imposing
remains of antiquity that I can call to recollection in Ireland."
There are two localities of this name in Connaught: Baile-an-tobhair-Phaidraig,
the town of the Well of St. Patrick, in Mayo, and Baile-an-tobhair-Brighde,
that of St. Bridget, now under consideration.
This place
is, among other things, memorable as the birth-place of the celebrated
Cathal Crovederg, or "Charles the Red-Handed," the illegitimate
son of Turlough-More O'Conor, the brother of Roderick, and last of the
Irish monarchs. About this prince, who was born in the latter end of
the twelfth century, - and who, says the Ulster Annals, was "the
best Irishman, from the time of Brien Boroma, for gentility and honour;
the upholder, mighty and puissant, of the country; keeper of peace;
rich and excellent," there are many romantic tales and superstitious
legends, still lingering with the people in the vicinity, which, were
they woven into a novel, would far surpass most modern works of fiction.
When we have a novelist not only acquainted with Irish history and antiquities,
but possessing the power of fusing the ancient legend with the drama
of modern life and impulse; making the feelings that influence the lover
or the hero subservient to the chronicle; picturing the part, through
the knowledge of the human heart at the present-then, and then only
will Irish history be known and appreciated.
Cathal
of the Red Hand was the son of a beautiful girl of very small stature,
named Gearrog Ny-Moran, of the Muhall territory. When the queen heard
what had occurred, she, like Sarah of old, commenced a bitter persecution
against the king's mistress, and had, as was customary at the time,
recourse to witchcraft and Sorcery to prolong the sufferings of the
unhappy maiden. Like Juno, before the birth of Hercules, she, with the
assistance of a noted witch, set a charm, consisting of a bundle of
elder rods, tied with a magic string, knotted with nine knots. This
she hung up in her chamber and watched with great care. Stratagem, however,
achieved what humanity could not induce. The queen, while walking on
the terrace, was accosted by a female (the midwife disguised), who entreated
alms for a poor women who had just been confined in the neighbouring
village. On hearing who it was, she was so enraged, that she instantly
rushed to her apartment, and cut the charm into pieces. The spell was
broken, and the bond-woman's child was born.
For several
years after, the people protected Gearrog and her son from the jealous
fury of the queen; and both were long harboured in the monasteries of
Connaught. As time wore on, however, the Church was insufficient against
the wrath of the offended queen, and Cathal was obliged to fly to a
distant province, where, in the garb of a peasant, he supported himself
by manual labour. At length the King of Connaught died; and the people
declared they would have no monarch but his son, Cathal Crovederg, if
he could be found. Heralds were sent forth, and proclamations issued,
according to the fashion of the times, yet still no tidings of the elected
king. One day, as harvest was drawing to its close, a Bollscaire, or
herald, from the Court of Ballintober, entered a field in Leinster,
where some of the peasantry were at work reaping rye, and told the oft-repeated
tale of the missing monarch of Connaught. Cathal, who was among the
reapers, heard the story, and stood for some minutes lost in reverie.
He then, removing the cover with which he always concealed the mark,
held up the red hand, and throwing down the reaping-hook, exclaimed-
"Slan leath a corrain anois do'n cloideam" -i.e., "Farewell,
sickle; now for the sword!" The Bollscaire recognizing him, both
he, and the men who were along with him in the field, prostrated themselves
before him, and proclaimed him King of Connaught. He was afterwards
crowned at Carnfree, near Tulsk, by the chieftains and the coorbs of
Sil-Murray, and "Cathal's Farewell to the Rye" is a proverb
and an air still well known in Roscommon and Galway.
