The first face-to-face encounter I had with Halloween was back in the mid-1980's, when 2 young boys came knocking on our front door after dark, with the words "Trick or Treat?" My husband, who, despite his Irish heritage, knew nothing at all of the tradition, politely replied "no thank you" and closed the door. Whereupon the little brats smashed our letterbox as they departed!
Growing up in Australia in the 1960's & 70's, Halloween was not something that was celebrated or even much acknowledged. Our attention at that time of the year was focused on Guy Fawkes Night - November 5th.
To us, Halloween was an American tradition, and as it began to catch on in Australia when my own children were young, I resisted it fiercely as yet another over the top Americanization of our culture.
It wasn't until 2007, when I visited Ireland and spent the month of October there, that I really became aware of and understood the origins of the Celtic tradition of Samhain, now celebrated as Halloween. Samhain being the ancient festival which celebrated the end of the harvest and was the time when the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead was at its thinnest. Halloween, or Hallowe'en, meaning the eve of Hallows, is the day before All Hallows Day or All Saints Day, which is a Christian festival celebrating the lives of all the Saints. The interpretation of this varies between Christian denominations. In its efforts to convert the population, the early Christian church found it easier to appropriate the existing celebrations and assign a new Christian meaning to them, rather than attempting to stamp out centuries-old traditions.
So this year, following another visit to Ireland, Halloween has prompted me to write about the ghosts uncovered in my Irish family...... and there are a few!
The first is my 6x great grandfather, Robert Kean or O'Cahane, known as Robin of Ross (c1675-1756). Thomas Johnson Westropp (1860-1922) wrote in "A Folklore Survey of County Clare", about the spectre of a dog which haunted the road between Carrigaholt and Ross in the west of county Clare. It was believed to be the spirit of Robin of Ross. Why he would have taken that form and come back to haunt the area is not explained. Perhaps because he converted to the Protestant religion and was therefore able to keep his lands.
Robin of Ross's 2x great granddaughter, and my 3x great aunt, Charlotte Hickman Keane (c1812-1893) writes in her diary in 1831 about the family's visit to Carrigaholt, where they would stay at Rahona Lodge. On this visit in July of 1831, Charlotte writes that she has been given "the little back room inside the drawing room", known as the Dark Room by the servants, for the strange noises they heard coming out of it. Charlotte reports that no ghost intruded on her, but she envied "the happy little ghost who was able to visit that darling little dark room whenever it liked." It would be interesting to know if the current owners of Rahona Lodge have encountered that ghost of 180 years ago!
Charlotte's older brother Robert Keane, who became the owner of Rahona Lodge after the death of his father, died at his home in Dublin in December 1873. His grand-daughter, my great-aunt Molly wrote down her mother's reminiscences of her father's life. She records that on the evening before Robert Keane died, his daughter Annie "wept herself to sleep on a cushioned window seat in a room at the back of the house. She awoke to find the room dark and the impression that something had awakened her. Yes, there it was, a wild cry coming from the swamp land behind the house, and there she saw distinctly the form of a woman kneeling, with dark hair floating out behind her, and as she cried she wrung her hands. Again and again the wild wailing cry came. Then she disappeared, and Mother immediately thought - oh the Banshee is wailing for Father."
The banshee or bean-sidhe, is reported to mark the passing only of people whose names begin with 'O' or 'Mac'. The original spelling of the name Keane was O'Cahane, or in Irish, ó Catháin.
The banshee made another appearance for the Keane family, when Charlotte's older sister, Jane Rutherford died in Dublin on 14 April 1875. Her death was not unexpected, and her niece Amy Griffin writes of it in her 1875 diary. Amy at the time is away from her Dublin home, and staying in Ennis with her Keane and Pilkington cousins. She writes of the Keane family at Beechpark receiving a telegram advising them that "Aunt Jane" had passed away at 1 o'clock. Amy tells how "Aunt Louey" (Louisa, wife of Marcus Keane) reported wakening that morning in expectation of hearing that Jane had died, because she had heard the banshee wailing under her window at midnight. She described it as a strange sound which seemed to come from the air. When she heard the same sound that day at midday, she was told the banshee would not be heard during the day unless it was at the hour of death. The telegram confirmed the time of Jane's death as 1 o'clock.
Amy Griffin, my grandfather's 1st cousin, married at age 28 to the much older, 73 year old widower Dr. John Griffin of Kilkee. Three years later, he died and she became a widow herself. Amy's niece Dorothy Griffin has left some notes which record that Dr. Griffin had something wrong with a leg and consequently walked with a limp. Dorothy reports that after his death, he was supposed to haunt The Baths, a lodge he had owned. She writes that guests at the Baths often reported hearing someone with a lame leg thumping around the house at night. She states that she stayed there in 1938 with her young daughter and a nurse - "the nurse heard him, and she hadn't been told about Dr. Griffin or his leg, so couldn't have imagined it."
So there are the ghosts of my Irish family! or at least those who have been recorded. If nothing else, they make great tales to pass on.
Showing posts with label Ross. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ross. Show all posts
Saturday, 8 November 2014
Sunday, 7 September 2014
The last of Clare...
Loop head continued....
After such a beautiful walk with Laura of The Long Way Round Walking Company, it was time for some refreshment. Back in Kilbaha, I stopped at the Lighthouse Inn for a bowl of delicious chowder. The Lighthouse Inn is the pub which was originally run by Susan Pilkington Haier, my 2x great-aunt, back in the 1860's and remained in the Haier family until recent years. I hadn't visited it before, but it was one of the things I wanted to do. Due to its location right on the foreshore of Kilbaha Bay, the facade of the building had sustained some damage during the storms of the past winter. Repairs were in progress, both to the Inn and the surrounding areas.
In the pub, I happened to run into Pip, who had called in to speak to the owner. Good to see him again, as I hadn't expected to do so. Pip told me that another mutual cousin had just arrived in Kilbaha from England for a short stay at their family cottage. So off I went to introduce myself to Veronica, another 4th cousin on the Keane side. Good to make her acquaintance as well, and exchange email addresses for future reference.
I then went for a short walk around the Kiltrellig end (eastern side) of Kilbaha Bay, visited the memorial to the Grave of the Yellow Men, which was a new addition since my last visit 7 years previously. The story of the Yellow Men is one of those recorded in our family records, being memorialised in a poem written by Amy Griffin.
From here, I drove out to Ross and had a wander around the rocks there before driving along the coast road to Kilkee and back to Kilrush where I had hoped to catch up with Colin Keane again to see some old family papers he had brought down. Unfortunately, Colin had decided to go out to Kilbaha for a drive, so we probably passed on the road.
I did eventually catch up with Colin over dinner in Crotty's pub, with Paddy Waldron & Kay Clancy.
After keeping myself busy all day so that I wouldn't think about it, it was finally time for my presentation that evening to Kilrush & District Historical Society. KDHS meets once a month, with a guest speaker on a topic of interest, and Paddy Waldron has always included me on the invitation list each month via Facebook. Earlier in the year, when I had yet again declined the invitation (Kilrush being a bit far from Melbourne to allow it), I added the comment that I would definitely be there for the May meeting. Back came the reply from Paddy asking if I would like to be the presenter for that meeting! After a bit of consideration I agreed, although by the time this evening had come around I was wondering why I did! I had put together a powerpoint presentation which included some of the references and photos from our family collection, and traced the history of our branch of Pilkingtons (and Griffins) from their earliest records in Clare up to their settlement in South Gippsland. There is a quite indistinct recording of the presentation here - apparently I needed to inhale the microphone as I spoke. There was a good turnout for the presentation, and it seemed to be well received, although I did wonder why anyone else would be interested in our family!
I am so sorry that I wasn't able to have a couple of days in Clare following the presentation. In hindsight it was a big mistake, although doing so would have meant I wouldn't have had the time with Tom & Sally in London before coming home. There were several people present who I would have very much liked to follow up with on potential family connections. In particular, a man named ..... wait for it ..... Tom Pilkington, who lives in Ennis, and who is almost certainly a distant cousin of mine. Tom owns land at Gortmore which has been in his family for generations. Gortmore is an adjoining townland to Cragleigh. In the course of my research, I have found several similarities and parallels between his family and mine, which I would very much have liked to explore further with him.
Sadly, this evening was time to say goodbye to my Clare friends - Larry, Paddy, Kay in particular, but also everyone else who had made me so welcome during my visit. We retired back to Crotty's for a drink to unwind (well, for me to unwind), and then it was time to re-pack the bags, and toss some unnecessaries to meet to weight requirement for the flight to London.
After such a beautiful walk with Laura of The Long Way Round Walking Company, it was time for some refreshment. Back in Kilbaha, I stopped at the Lighthouse Inn for a bowl of delicious chowder. The Lighthouse Inn is the pub which was originally run by Susan Pilkington Haier, my 2x great-aunt, back in the 1860's and remained in the Haier family until recent years. I hadn't visited it before, but it was one of the things I wanted to do. Due to its location right on the foreshore of Kilbaha Bay, the facade of the building had sustained some damage during the storms of the past winter. Repairs were in progress, both to the Inn and the surrounding areas.
In the pub, I happened to run into Pip, who had called in to speak to the owner. Good to see him again, as I hadn't expected to do so. Pip told me that another mutual cousin had just arrived in Kilbaha from England for a short stay at their family cottage. So off I went to introduce myself to Veronica, another 4th cousin on the Keane side. Good to make her acquaintance as well, and exchange email addresses for future reference.
I then went for a short walk around the Kiltrellig end (eastern side) of Kilbaha Bay, visited the memorial to the Grave of the Yellow Men, which was a new addition since my last visit 7 years previously. The story of the Yellow Men is one of those recorded in our family records, being memorialised in a poem written by Amy Griffin.
The Grave of the Yellow Men
None knew from whither those drowned men came,
Swept in by the foaming tide.
So a grave was dug without a name,
Where they slumber side by side.
Their deeds are not spoken above the clay,
They perished we know not when.
Only a green mound marks today,
The Grave of the Yellow Men.
Even the wild wind sings their dirge,
While the sea birds in echo cry.
And eternally wet by the briny surge,
Is the spot where the strangers lie.
Benefiting for those whose lives are dark,
And whose death was full of pain,
But never recording stone doth mark,
The Grave of the Yellow Men.
Fond wives may have wept through the dreary night,
For the husbands they loved so well,
And at first faint dawn of welcome light,
Arisen, their beads to tell.
To hear the babes as the brightly wake,
Has father come home again?
Oh, hearts may have longed they might only break,
On the Grave of the Yellow Men.
We know they died on the raging deep,
But they lived we know not how.
Well their secret those slumberers keep,
None will ever tell it now.
But we know that the name of each lost one there,
Has been graved by his Maker’s pen.
Nor will He at last have forgotten where
To seek for The Yellow Men.
None knew from whither those drowned men came,
Swept in by the foaming tide.
So a grave was dug without a name,
Where they slumber side by side.
Their deeds are not spoken above the clay,
They perished we know not when.
Only a green mound marks today,
The Grave of the Yellow Men.
Even the wild wind sings their dirge,
While the sea birds in echo cry.
And eternally wet by the briny surge,
Is the spot where the strangers lie.
Benefiting for those whose lives are dark,
And whose death was full of pain,
But never recording stone doth mark,
The Grave of the Yellow Men.
Fond wives may have wept through the dreary night,
For the husbands they loved so well,
And at first faint dawn of welcome light,
Arisen, their beads to tell.
To hear the babes as the brightly wake,
Has father come home again?
Oh, hearts may have longed they might only break,
On the Grave of the Yellow Men.
We know they died on the raging deep,
But they lived we know not how.
Well their secret those slumberers keep,
None will ever tell it now.
But we know that the name of each lost one there,
Has been graved by his Maker’s pen.
Nor will He at last have forgotten where
To seek for The Yellow Men.
by Amy Griffin (1855-1910)
From here, I drove out to Ross and had a wander around the rocks there before driving along the coast road to Kilkee and back to Kilrush where I had hoped to catch up with Colin Keane again to see some old family papers he had brought down. Unfortunately, Colin had decided to go out to Kilbaha for a drive, so we probably passed on the road.
![]() |
| the beach at Ross |
I did eventually catch up with Colin over dinner in Crotty's pub, with Paddy Waldron & Kay Clancy.
After keeping myself busy all day so that I wouldn't think about it, it was finally time for my presentation that evening to Kilrush & District Historical Society. KDHS meets once a month, with a guest speaker on a topic of interest, and Paddy Waldron has always included me on the invitation list each month via Facebook. Earlier in the year, when I had yet again declined the invitation (Kilrush being a bit far from Melbourne to allow it), I added the comment that I would definitely be there for the May meeting. Back came the reply from Paddy asking if I would like to be the presenter for that meeting! After a bit of consideration I agreed, although by the time this evening had come around I was wondering why I did! I had put together a powerpoint presentation which included some of the references and photos from our family collection, and traced the history of our branch of Pilkingtons (and Griffins) from their earliest records in Clare up to their settlement in South Gippsland. There is a quite indistinct recording of the presentation here - apparently I needed to inhale the microphone as I spoke. There was a good turnout for the presentation, and it seemed to be well received, although I did wonder why anyone else would be interested in our family!
I am so sorry that I wasn't able to have a couple of days in Clare following the presentation. In hindsight it was a big mistake, although doing so would have meant I wouldn't have had the time with Tom & Sally in London before coming home. There were several people present who I would have very much liked to follow up with on potential family connections. In particular, a man named ..... wait for it ..... Tom Pilkington, who lives in Ennis, and who is almost certainly a distant cousin of mine. Tom owns land at Gortmore which has been in his family for generations. Gortmore is an adjoining townland to Cragleigh. In the course of my research, I have found several similarities and parallels between his family and mine, which I would very much have liked to explore further with him.
Sadly, this evening was time to say goodbye to my Clare friends - Larry, Paddy, Kay in particular, but also everyone else who had made me so welcome during my visit. We retired back to Crotty's for a drink to unwind (well, for me to unwind), and then it was time to re-pack the bags, and toss some unnecessaries to meet to weight requirement for the flight to London.
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