Longford Folk Tales E-Book

Philip Byrne

• Herausgeber: THP Ireland
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 275

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Longford Folk Tales is a treasure trove of wonderful stories of saints and deities, fairies and devils, kings and ghosts, shoemakers and other engaging characters. Read about The Blake Millions, butter stealing, the Wooing of Étaín, and 'The Walking Gallows', Hempenstall – all your favourite legends and many more. This selection of tales and stories from every corner of the county of Longford reflects the wisdom of the countryside and its people. Legends, folk customs and local lore from earliest times up to the county's more recent past are expertly told by storyteller Philip Byrne.

Leseprobe

Dedicated to the memory of my wife, Irene, who started the journey with me. To my lovely daughters, Joanne, Linda, Elaine and my buddy of a lifetime, Jack.

First published 2020

The History Press

The Mill, Brimscombe Port

Stroud, Gloucestershire, GL5 2QG

www.thehistorypress.co.uk

© Philip Byrne, 2020

The right of Philip Byrne to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the Publishers.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978 0 7509 9642 6

Typesetting and origination by Typo•glyphix, Burton-on-Trent

Printed and bound in Great Britain by TJ International Ltd

eBook converted by Geethik Technologies

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Introduction

About Longford

1 Corn Hill, St Patrick, the Calleach and Furbaide Ferbend

2 The Wooing of Étaín

3 Longford and the Titanic

4 Hudden and Dudden and Donal O’Neill

5 The Stories of Nora ‘Oney’ Power

6 The Blake Millions

7 Phely Reilly and the Fairy Fort

8 Co. Longford Wake Games

9 Co. Longford Ghosts

10 He Stoops to Conquer

11 Butter Stealing

12 The Sleeping Beauty of the Lake and Other Tales of Lough Gowna

13 The Gate House on the Fairy Mound

14 Stolen Children

15 The Pot of Gold

16 Best Foot Forward

17 Hempenstall – ‘The Walking Gallows’

18 Whatever You Say, Say Nothing

19 Poems and Songs of ‘Leo’

20 The Stories of Mrs Hagan

21 The Corlea Trackway

22 Morgan Finn

23 The Sheriff’s Seizures

24 The Grave Digger

25 The Rejected Cub of the Fairies

26 Land War in Drumlish, 1881

27 The Maid of Moyne

28 Fourpence or the Blessing of God

29 Jack the Thief

30 The Cannon Chains and Gunner Magee

31 The King Congal of Granard

32 A Raking Pot of Tea

33 The Little Red Bull

34 Penny Wise and Pound Foolish

35 Some Longford Characters

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Above all, I must thank the people of Longford. In researching this book, every door I knocked on was answered with a welcome and the offer of help. Thank you, Longford. Unfortunately, for every story included there were many more that had to be omitted. Co. Longford has enough folk tales to fill many volumes.”

Dr Críostóir Mac Cárthaigh, archivist at the National Folklore Collection at University College Dublin, and the other staff in the UCD Folklore Department couldn’t have been more helpful. The Main Manuscript Collection is huge and bewildering to a novice researcher. Their advice, help and guidance made the many visits to UCD a joy. Críostóir recognises that storytellers like to mould material to themselves. He prefers material to be left unchanged or changed as little as possible. I share his view. His support was a major contributing factor to this book.

Where appropriate, at the end of each story I have included references to the texts and material from the National Folklore Collection (NFC) as well as all other reference sources used.

The staff at History Press Ireland couldn’t have been more helpful and understanding. When I started this book, the world was bright, and a new challenge was there to be both conquered and enjoyed. Unfortunately, life got in the way. The untimely passing of my wife, Irene, and my own personal medical issues that required two operations with slow rehabilitation have resulted in this project taking far longer than was reasonable. At no time since Longford Folk Tales was commissioned has anyone at HPI put any pressure on me to speed up its completion. Thank you all for your compassion.

Wherever possible I have tried to contact the copyright holders of any material used. If I have failed in this at any point I apologise and will correct any omissions in subsequent editions.

In acknowledging any group of individuals, gaps are inevitable. I have tried to mention all who helped but there are so many in so many ways that I’m sure I’ve not got everybody. To all who helped, offered help, named or omitted, all I can say is mile buíochas.

Specifically, I would like to thank Jude Flynn, a folklore institution in his own right. A man who is known in every parish and townland throughout the county. Jude’s Fireside Tales is an annual publication that is eagerly awaited by all with an interest in Co. Longford and it’s people; Mary Carleton Reynolds, County Librarian, and Martin Morris, County Archivist, always made me welcome in Library Headquarters. It became my ‘base’ but also a rabbit hole that I often willingly fell into, such is the richness of material in the archive.

Michael Masterson of Moyne, a man with a great sense of the past as demonstrated by his lovingly restored cottage. Michael introduced me to Micksey Mulligan, who taught me about horses, Goldsmith, Homer and life – a real privilege; Annette Corkery, Ardagh, who gave me ‘The Wooing of Étain’; Hugh Farrell and all the members of Longford Historical Society, including the current Chairperson Camilla Kelly, for their network of contacts throughout the county; Noel Carberry at Corlea Trackway. Noel was the first person I spoke to when I started this journey; thanks Noel; Mattie Fox, Keenagh, who not only supplied me with his hospitality and local knowledge but with a tour of the whole area around Keenagh; John Casey, Lanesboro, for a view from the west of the county and much more besides; and James P. MacNerney, Dromard, for his kindness and a copy of From the Well of St Patrick.

Thank you, Joanne, for your meticulous correction of the final draft.

My thanks to fellow storyteller Steve Lally, who introduced me to the artist James Patrick Ryan, whose illustrations illuminate the text. James has a very distinctive style and a keen ability to find the kernel of each story on which to base his drawings. Having spent over a decade in China, his drawings have a Sino-Celtic style. Without James’ essential help I would have been lost. Many thanks, James.

INTRODUCTION

Who owns a folk tale? Almost by definition it belongs to the ‘everyman’. A story is never the same when told a second time, even by the same storyteller. That presents a problem when trying to attribute folk tales to their ‘owners’. That great seanchaí, the late Eamonn Kelly, was asked by a fellow storyteller if he could borrow some of Eamonn’s tales. Eamonn was very forthcoming in giving his permission but with one condition. The condition was that the storyteller would acknowledge from whom he had been given the story.

The provenance of a folk tale seems to me to be from whom it has been heard. The new ‘teller’ will make it their own anyway but in this way the roots of a story in the oral tradition can be passed on. In this book I have often used the Main Manuscript section of the National Folklore Collection. In all cases I have given as much information as I could find on the respondent (the storyteller) and where possible on how they came by the story. In this way it was possible to give the lineage of stories stretching back well in excess of a century and a half.

In some of the stories in this collection I have tried to get out of the way of the story and let it speak for itself. When the collectors for the National Folklore collection were out on the highways and byways collecting the treasure trove for the NFC, they would record the stories on wax drums using an Edison recording device. They would then transcribe their recordings verbatim – a challenging task to be sure.

In some of the stories here, I have, with the permission of Dr Mac Cárthaigh of UCD, used the same verbatim transcriptions. Sometimes this can make a story difficult to read but it allows the accent and dialect of the storyteller to come through. This is particularly true for example in the ‘Stories of “Oney” Power’. Her stories were recorded and transcribed by Thomas McGrainne, and when they are read it’s like listening to Oney herself across all those years. If you find them heavy going, stick with them, it will be worth it.

Folk tales are not history. However, real historical events give rise to folk tales that are passed down in the oral tradition. The resulting stories may add or change details (a good story never loses but gains as it is retold) but this does not matter. Real events, however distant, are the stuff of legends and if two versions differ, so what, they can both be enjoyed.

There is a lovely word used in North Co. Longford, céilí. This is not a dance as most people might interpret it but the visiting of neighbours for conversation, stories and craic. It is a word more associated with Ulster than with the other Provinces, ‘Where is Pat tonight?’ ‘Oh, he’s out on his céilí.’ In other parts of the country this would often be called ‘rambling’. In both cases it forms a very important part of storytelling and story gathering. It is the way stories are heard, enjoyed, perhaps modified and passed on to others.

Where I have referenced the Main Collection of the NFC, the references have been done by giving the volume number; page number(s); respondent’s name; respondent’s age; their address; the name of the collector and where possible the date collected. In some cases, the collector obtained further information about the provenance of the story. This I have included in the introduction to the story.

ABOUT LONGFORD

Co. Longford lies at the centre of Ireland. It is bounded to the north by Counties Cavan and Leitrim, to the east and south by Co. Westmeath and to the west by Co. Roscommon. It is the point where the three Provinces of Leinster, Ulster and Connaught meet. The original lands of the O’Farrell Clan were officially shired into the modern county in the late sixteenth century. The county of Longford is formed from the ancient lands of Annaly also known as ‘Teathbha’. The name ‘Longford’ is an Anglicisation of the Irish ‘Longphort’, meaning a stronghold or fortress. The town of Longford from which the county takes its name was a stronghold of the O’Farrell Clan. The county crest is of a greyhound over a twin-towered castle. The motto is ‘Daingean agus Dílis’, meaning ‘strong and loyal’. The castle is usually taken to represent the longphort of the O’Farrells.

Geographically the north of the county is hilly, being part of the drumlins that stretch across the north midlands. The southern parts are lower-lying raised bog land of better quality and more suited for tillage and grazing. Overall the county is low lying. The highest point is Cairn Hill (280m) near Drumlish, making the county the third-lowest in the country.

In the census of 1841, the county had a population of over 115,000. By 1886 that population had been decimated by famine and emigration to just over sixty thousand. Today the population has fallen further to approximately forty thousand. That makes it the second-least populated county in the country ahead of Co. Leitrim. A little-known fact relating to the emigration from the county relates to Edelmiro Julián Farrell, who was a former president of Argentina. He was born in 1887, the grandson of Matthew Farrell (1803–10), who had emigrated from Co. Longford. Edelmiro was linked to Juan Perón, who with his wife Eva succeeded Farrell to become president of Argentina in 1946.

Although Corn Hill, with a height of 280m, is the highest point of Co. Longford, it has the distinction of being the twelve hundredth highest mountain in Ireland. It is the third-lowest ‘county top’, with only Westmeath and Meath having lower high points.

Corn Hill is the modern popular name for the high point of Co. Longford. Despite its low summit, it was in the past possible to see nine counties from the top. Today, apart from a very unsightly television mast, the area is densely planted with Sitka spruce, which limit the view. Corn Hill is located between Drumlish and Ballinalee. The hill was also known as Cairn Hill or Sliabh Cairbré. In early mythological stories the hill is known as Sliabh Uillind.

St Patrick is very much associated with the hill. As is widely known, St Patrick travelled the length and breadth of Ireland, stopping at many places to preach the word of Christianity and to convert those he addressed. On his travels he came to the area of Corn Hill and stopped with a local chieftain. It was normal in such circumstances for the guest to be offered food and accommodation. Patrick was looking forward to a good meal as he was hungry from his travels. His meal was duly served. As soon as he tasted the meat, he realised that he had not been given lamb as he had been told but instead he was given dog meat.

The saint flew into the most terrible and unchristian-like rage because he realised that the meat he had been given was no accident but intended as an insult. It is dangerous to cross any saint, let alone St Patrick. According to the noted Irish scholar John O’Donovan, Patrick cursed all about him in no uncertain terms:

Accursed be Carbry’s barren mountains

On which this hound was drest for me

Accursed its heaths, its streams and fountains

As long as man and time shall be

Accursed its glens, may no kind showers

Descend upon them from the skies

May neither herbs, nor grass nor flowers

Be ever seen in them to rise

Accursed its people, now I strike them

With my red bolt and seal their doom

May all good men for e’er dislike them

May they sink in murkiest gloom.

There are two cairns on top of Corn Hill. Two piles of stones that are the distinctive feature of the hill. These are no ordinary piles of stones, they are stones that are steeped in folklore and legend. The Pattern Day or ‘climbing the hill’ used to take place on the first Sunday in June. When this tradition was at its strongest, hundreds of people from the parish of Killoe and surrounding parishes would make the ritual climb. The tradition was for each climber to carry with them a stone that they would place on one of the cairns. This would bring the bearer luck but if a stone were taken from the cairn the result would be bad luck for the culprit. Sadly, this long-standing tradition is no more.

One of the cairns was originally formed by the infamous Calleach, or the divine hag, who was also the weather goddess. She ruled every winter from Samhainn (1 November) until Bealtaine (1 May). As a deity she was possessed of many supernatural qualities. On one occasion she flew through the lands of Taffia, which Corn Hill divides. As she flew over the hill, she dropped a pile of stones from her apron. They landed on top of the hill and formed one of the cairns.

The second cairn has a more intriguing story. It is said to be the burial mound of Furbaide Ferbend. The story of Furbaide Ferbend comes from the Ulster Cycle of Irish Mythology. One of the central figures in this story is Queen Medb, Queen of Connaught and main protagonist in the Táin Bó Cúailnge.

Eochaid Feidlig became High King. He ruled for twelve years and died peacefully at Tara. Eochaid had three sons and three daughters. The daughters were Eithne, Medb and Clothru.

Eochaid married Medb to Conchobar Mac Nessa, King of Ulster. It was a bad marriage that didn’t last very long. Eochaid then gave Conchobar another of his daughters, Eithne. They married and Eithne became pregnant. As Eithne’s pregnancy developed she was warned by her wise man that there was a plan to kill her. She left and travelled west towards Cruachan, where she planned to have her baby.

As Eithne was now married to the Ulster king, Medb hated her as well. In her hatred and her wish to have revenge on Conchobar she arranged to have Eithne killed. Near Abbeyshrule, as Eithne was crossing the river rapids at Tenelick, she was confronted by Medb and one of her men. Eithne was drowned and as she died her baby was cut from her womb with the sword of the killer. It was a baby boy. This boy was Furbaide. Ever after this deed the river was named after Eithne – the River Inny.

At the age of seventeen, Furbaide fought in Conchobar’s army at the Battle of Gáirech and later at the Battle of Ilgáirech, which came towards the end of the Táin Bó Cúailnge. It was said that he was so beautiful looking and fair that none of his enemies could bring themselves to wound him. Furbaide didn’t have any such qualms about his enemies and slaughtered at least three hundred men in his opponent’s army at the Battle of Ilgáirech.

As he matured his hatred of Queen Medb, his aunt, grew and festered. He knew he would have to avenge his mother who had died on the banks of the Inny. As she grew older, Medb often stayed on Inchcleraun an island in Lough Ree near Knockcroghery. It was Medb’s habit to bathe at a certain well close to the shore of Inchcleraun. Furbaide learned that this was her habit anytime she was on the island. He hatched a plan to kill Medb and avenge his mother.

He took a rope and measured the distance from the well where Medb would bathe to the shore of Lough Ree. He returned to his home with the measuring rope and marked out the exact distance from shore to well. Having done this, he placed a stake into the ground at what would approximately be head height. On top of the stake he placed an apple. Day after day while his friends enjoyed life in feasting and play, Furbaide practised hitting the apple on the stake with a missile hurled from his sling. At first his efforts were very frustrating. Shots were either too high or too low, too far left or too far right. As the days of practice continued his misses became less. With each shot he was getting nearer and nearer the target. Eventually, he became so good in firing at that exact distance at a target at that exact height that he had to replace the apple with every shot. Now all he needed was opportunity.

As it happened, there was a great assembly called between the men of Connaught from the west and the men of Ulster from the north. The assembly was to be held around Lough Ree. One morning, as the Ulster men sat eating their breakfast, there was commotion among some of the men. Medb had retained her good looks as she aged.

‘Look at the beautiful woman bathing on the island,’ said one. ‘Who is it?’

‘That’s Queen Medb of Connaught,’ was the reply.

Furbaide scrambled to get his sling. This was the opportunity for which he had been waiting. While he had the sling, he had no ammunition. If he went to get a missile, Medb might be gone and the window of opportunity closed. He had been eating his breakfast and was holding a large lump of hard cheese. With necessity being the mother of invention, he loaded the sling with the cheese.

As he ran towards the shoreline, he began to swing the sling. Faster and faster it spun until by the time he reached the water’s edge the sling and the cheese were just a speeding blur. He had just reached the water’s edge when Medb on the island stood up and looked at what was happening. At this point she was at the exact height and exact distance that Furbaide had practised hitting for so many hours. He flung the hard cheese at Medb and hit her square on the temple. She fell to the ground, having been instantly killed by the blow.

Medb’s body was recovered and she was taken to Knocknarea in Co. Sligo and there buried. They say she was buried in a standing position facing towards Ulster and her enemies. Lugaid came to avenge the death of Medb. He found Furbaide on the slopes of Sliab Ullenn (Corn Hill) and there killed him. The Dindshenchas says, ‘A stone for every man that the axe clove – so was the cairn built: the king’s son died in revenge for a woman: that is the origin of the Cairn.’

REFERENCES

‘The Metrical Dindshenchas’, Poem 10, ceLtucc.ie

‘Corn Hill Cairns’, visitinglongford.ie

‘Slibh Chairbe’, Teathbha: Journal of the Longford Historical Society, Vol. 1, p.1, 1969.

Celtic Literature Collective, www.maryjones.us/ctexts/medb.html

‘The Tragic Death of Medb’, www.headofdonnbo.wordpress.com/2016/04/19the-tragic-death-of-medb

‘Memories of Derrycassin Wood’, Derek Fanning, Ireland’s Own, p.64.

A Brief Guide to Celtic Myths and Legends, Martyn Whittock, Constable & Robinson Ltd, 2013.

The Yellow Book of Lecan, written at the end of the fourteenth century, details the ‘Wooing of Étaín’ or ‘Tochmarc Étaíne’. The story of Étaín and Midhir comes from the early Mythological Cycle with stories of the first people to come to Ireland in a series of invasions and is Co. Longford’s greatest legend. This version was given to me by Sorcha Hegarty, who runs an annual Bard Summer School, and Annette Corkery of Ardagh.

Midhir was a king of the Tuatha de Dannan, proud, handsome and regal. His wife was called Fuamnach and was his equal in every way. She too was tall and proud, and she was herself the daughter of a king. She was a good wife to Midhir, she looked after him, their children and foster children well.

One of these foster children was Aengus Óg, the God of Love. He was a lovely child and their favourite. Through the years they fell ever more in love with him – as you would expect with a love god. When he grew up, and moved away to his own home, they were bereft. Midhir especially missed him terribly.

One day, Midhir announced to Fuamnach that he was going to pay Aengus Óg a visit. On his way he met a very beautiful young lady. He stopped and asked her name. She told him it was Étaín and the moment she looked into his eyes, he fell in love with her and she with him. He asked her to come with him, and she readily agreed. The two of them then spent a year and a day at Aengus Óg’s house at Brúgh na Boinne, living as husband and wife. Then Midhir decided that it was time for him to go home, but he could not bear to be parted from Étaín and so he brought her with him.

The moment Fuamnach saw Étaín she realised what had happened and she was furious. In secret she performed a magic spell on Étaín, transforming her into a pool of water. Then she conjured up a magic wind that dried up the water. The steam from the water condensed into a butterfly and only then was Fuamnach satisfied. However, the butterfly then flew to Midhir and wafted him with its wings. Beautiful music came up from the wings and a beautiful scent filled the air. Midhir recognised it was his love, Étaín. From then on everywhere he went the butterfly Étaín perched on his shoulder and the two of them were never seen apart.

Fuamnach was furious that her trick hadn’t worked. She turned once more to magic and conjured up a storm. The storm caught Étaín and dragged her away from Midhir. She was blown and buffeted by the winds for many years, until at last the storm blew itself out and she found herself at Brúgh na Boínne, near the house of Aengus Óg. Aengus was able to recognise her and built a room of glass especially for her where she would be safe from any ill winds. He filled it with flowers and made it the most comfortable home for a butterfly that he could. Étaín lived there for some time until one day she mistakenly fluttered outside. Fuamnach’s storm, which was always waiting, swept down and caught her up again.

The storm battered Étaín for seven long years and then it blew her in through the high window of a mortal king’s banqueting hall. She landed on a rafter high in the roof. The king and his wife had laid on a feast for all their subjects. Exhausted, Étaín the butterfly fell in a faint off the rafter and landed in the wine cup of the king’s wife. She drank back the butterfly and she turned to her husband and said, ‘I am with child.’ Nine months later she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl.

The king and his wife named the girl Étaín, and she grew up to be the loveliest young woman that anyone had ever seen, with no memory of her immortal life before.

Eochaid Airem, the High King of Ireland, was told by his advisors the time had come to find a wife. He heard rumours of this local king’s beautiful daughter, Étaín, and decided that she should be the one for him. He called for Étaín to meet him and she was well pleased with the match. They married and lived happily together.

After some time, King Eochaid Airem’s brother fell sick. On his sickbed, he called for Étaín, and when she came to him, he told her that he was lovesick because of the great love he had for her. He insisted that he would die if she would not agree to meet him in a love tryst the very next day. She agreed, and at once he felt better.

The next day, Étaín came to meet the king’s brother at the arranged place, but as soon as she saw him, he changed form. He grew taller and a glorious light shone out of him. She realised that this was not her husband’s brother. Indeed, it was Midhir, who told her the story of their love, and how he had been searching for her for three hundred years. Now that he had found her, after all the obstacles that they had overcome, he was never going to let her go again.

But Étaín was not convinced. She told him she knew none of this and had no memory of the things he was telling her, and besides all that, she was a married woman. Midhir called after her and said, ‘If I get your husband’s permission, will you come away with me?’

Étaín said, ‘Yes,’ thinking it unlikely.

The next day, Midhir turned up at the house of Eochaid Airem, and challenged him to a game of fidchell, a game not unlike chess. Eochaid Airem won the first game, and the second. He was so confident in his skills that he agreed to wager that the winner of the next game could claim any gift he asked from the loser. Midhir won and demanded that he be allowed to embrace and kiss the king’s wife, Étaín.

Eochaid Airem was annoyed at this request. He certainly did not want another man to embrace and kiss his own wife. He therefore asked Midhir for a month’s grace, and Midhir left, promising to come back and claim his prize.

Eochaid Airem readied all his army and spent the month training them and making sure they were fit, well-equipped and battle ready. On the day Midhir was to return, he ordered his army to the banqueting hall and to surround Étaín and prepared to repel any invader. But Midhir entered by magic and appeared inside the fort. He embraced Étaín and the moment he put his arms around her, she remembered everything. She remembered the storm. She remembered her immortal life. She remembered Midhir and their great love. She kissed him passionately, and as the king and all his men watched, Étaín began to shine with the light of the immortals. She and Midhir rose up from the ground and floated out of the window, never to be seen again. Eochaid Airem, broken-hearted, spent the rest of his life digging up every fairy fort he came across in search of his lost love.

REFERENCES

www.longfordtourism.ie/heritage/myths-and-legends/midhir-and-Étaín

www.celtic-twilight.com/ireland/wooing-of-Étaín/index.htm

Annette Corkery, Ardagh.

Eriu, Vol. 12, ed. O. Bergin & R.I. Best, 1938.

Ancient Irish Tales, T.P. Cross & C.H. Slover, 1936 (Republished Barnes & Noble 1996).

The Titanic, or more accurately the sinking of the Titanic, is perhaps the most famous story in all maritime history. There were over 2,200 people aboard RMS Titanic under the command of Captain Edward Smith when it sank shortly after 2 a.m. on Monday, 15 April 1912. The sinking claimed the lives of more than fifteen hundred people. On first examination there may seem to be little connection between that terrible disaster in mid-Atlantic and landlocked Co. Longford, but there is.

Emigration since the Famine years (1845–50) saw approximately 61,500 leave the county between 1851 and 1911. In 1912, 426 people left the county and of these, fourteen were passengers on the ill-fated Titanic. All fourteen from Co. Longford were single and under the age of thirty. Their stories form part of the folk tales of the county from the early years of the twentieth century.

All of those from Longford were third-class or steerage passengers. There are many tales of third-class passengers being kept below decks and crew members using violence to stop the inadequate supply of lifeboats being overloaded.

The passengers from Co. Longford were:

David Charters, Ballinalee

Ellen Corr, Moyne

James Farrell, Killoe

Kate Gilnagh, Killoe

John Kiernan, Fostra, Aughnacliffe

Philip Kiernan, (John’s brother)

Denis Lennon, Carrickedmond

Thomas McCormack, Ballinalee

Agnes McCoy, Ballinalee

Alice McCoy, (Agnes’ sister)

Bernard McCoy, (Brother of Agnes and Alice)

Katie Mullen, Killoe

Kate Murphy, Aughnacliffe

Margaret Murphy, (Kate’s sister)

Seven young men and seven young women setting off on the adventure of a lifetime. Ellen Corr, at sixteen years of age, was the youngest of the Longford passengers on the ship. So how did they fare? Did they die, or did they survive?

DAVID CHARTERS (21)

Before leaving home on his great adventure, David was telling his parents, William and Marianne, and his siblings about the huge size of the ship. He walked from his front door to a point up the field that was almost three hundred yards away. The entire family were incredulous that any ship that large and made of steel could float.

Sadly, David lost his life. His death was only the start of tragedies that beset the Charters family. One brother died as a child undergoing surgery. Another was killed in the First World War. A third brother was killed by the IRA in 1921 as they believed him to be an informer. Yet another brother died of a brain haemorrhage, while their sister Ann died while giving birth to her baby.

ELLEN CORR (16)

Ellen was emigrating to her two sisters, who were already established in New York or Jersey. Her father, who was a small farmer, at 65 years of age was very much older than his wife Bridget (44) when the sinking occurred. Ellen survived the tragedy. However, she never spoke of what she had experienced on the night of the disaster for the rest of her days.

She arrived safely in the United States and found work as a waitress. She later married an Irishman, Patrick Sweeney. They had no children and Ellen died on 9 March 1980. She was the last of the Longford survivors to pass away.

JAMES FARRELL (25)

James was one of the heroes of the disaster who failed to survive. His body was recovered still holding his rosary beads. He was buried at sea with little or no ceremony on 24 April. It was the policy aboard the ship searching for bodies in the days following the disaster not to recover bodies that were badly decomposed or crushed, especially if they ‘looked like Steerage passengers’. This was in sharp contrast to the treatment of the corpses of first- and second-class passengers, many of whom were stored in ice and placed in funeral caskets.

Three other Longford travellers – Katie Gilnagh, Kate Mullins and Kate Murphy – found their escape route blocked by a crewman at a closed barrier.