Thady O'Quin of Adare

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The O’Quin’s of Inchiquin, in the county of Clare, chiefs of Muintir Iffernain, one of the clans of the Dalcassian race, so renowned in Irish history for their warlike propensities, were settled in very early times at Corofin, near the lake of Inchiquin, and from them the Barony of Inchiquin, or O’Quin’s Island, is derived. Among the vols. published by the Irish Archaeological Society, is one on the battle of Magh-Rath (pronounced Moira): this work contains a genealogical table compiled by the late Dr. O’Donovan; it is taken from those truly valuable repertories of Irish history and genealogy, the Books of Leccan and Mac Firbis, and the authentic Irish Annalists. This table shows the descent of the principal Munster tribes from Olioll Olum, who was king of that province towards the middle of the third century of our era. From his eldest son Eoghan-more, spring the leading tribes of Desmond, or South Munster, including the Mac Carthys, frequently kings of Desmond, the O’Callaghans, O’Donovans, &c.; while from Cormac Cas, the second son, descend the royal race of the O’Briens, hereditary kings of Thomond and alternate kings of Munster, the Mac Namaras, &c., &c., including the kindred septs of O’Dea and O’Quin.

The fifteenth in descent of the O’Quin’s from Cormac Cas was Ifernan, Anglicè Hell-hound; from him the clan name was taken. From the twentieth, Conn, the surname O’Cuinn (now spelt Quin) is derived. His son, Niall O’Cuinn, was slain in the great battle of Clontarf, A.D. 1014. The event is thus described in Mageoghegan’s translation of the “Annals of Clonmacnoise:” and of the other side were slain King Brian Borowe, then greatest monarch in these parts of Europe, then of the age of eighty-eight years; his nephew, Conyng Mac Doncwoane; Prince Murrough, his (Brian’s) son, then of the age of sixty-three years; Terence, the king’s grandchild, then about the age of fifteen years, who was found drowned near the fishing weare of Clontarfe, with both his hands fast bound in the hair of a Dane’s head, whom he pursued to the sea at the time of the flight of the Danes; Mothla Mac Donell, Mac Foylan, Prince of the Desies of Munster; Eochy Mac Downie, Neale O’Coyn, and Cowdoylye Mac Kynnedy, three noblemen of the king’s bed-chamber,” &c., &c., &c.

The account in the Annals of Innisfallen, translated by O’Flanagan, describes these three as “Brians, three companions or aide-de-camps,” and spells the name “Niall O’Cuinn.” In this justly celebrated battle three generations of the reigning house were slain; the heroic old monarch, the heir-apparent to the throne, and his son. Niall O’Quin’s grandson, Corc, was tutor to Muirchertach O’Brian, King or Prince of Thomond in 1142.

The Annals of Innisfallen, A.D. 1171, record the death of Dermot O’Quin, by Roderic O’Conor, King of Connaught.

In the Annals of the Four Masters, at the year 1188, it is recorded that “Edaoin, daughter of O’Quin, Queen of Munster, died on her pilgrimage at Derry, victorious over the world and the devil.” She appears to have been the widow of Murtogh O’Brien, who died without issue in 1168, and was succeeded by his brother, Donald More, the last king of all Munster.

In 1197 the Annals of Innisfallen have the following entry: Connor Roe, son of Donell More O’Brien, turned against his own brother Donogh Cairbreach, and brought the English with him into Thomond, and Cumea Mac Namara, Conor O’Quin, and a great many more were slain by them between the great family of De Clare, aided by a few of the O’Briens and other Dalcassians on one side, and the O’Briens and the principal tribes of Thomond on the other; which, after lasting about a century, terminated in the final overthrow of the De Clares and their allies. It seems to have been at that time, or perhaps rather later, that the O’Quins, O’Gradys, and other clans were driven out of Clare, and settled in Limerick, placing the broad waters of the Shannon between them and their ancient patrimonies.

The following extract from a letter dated January, 1850, which I received from my lamented friend, the late Professor O’Curry, contains an interesting, and, as coming from so high an authority, a valuable notice relative to the O’Quins:

Cas had thirteen sons, from whom the Dalcassian tribes descend. Of these sons, Aengus-Cenn-Nathrach (Aengus of the Serpent Hill or Head), and Aengus-Cenn-Aitinn (Aengus of the Furze Hill), were two. From the former descends O’Dea and other tribes of the now Barony of Inchiquin, (Insi-ui-Chuinn, or O’Quinn’s Island); and from the other descend the O’Cuinn (or O’Quin) and Inghean Baith (the daughter of Baith), who founded Kilnaboy, and was the patroness of the O’Quinn and his co-relatives.

Mac Firbis appears to think that Aengus of the Serpent Head, and Aengus of the Furze Head, were but one person. There is little doubt that the Serpent Head was remembered in the banners of the tribe in after times, and was not an invention of Dermod O’Conor’s, nor of Terry; and, excepting the Red Hand of Mac Enis, which the O’Neills usurp, it is perhaps the oldest and most historical coat of arms or clan emblem in Ireland. Motto,—Cenn Nathrach Aboo! The Serpent Hill was one of the royal residences of the kings of Munster. See the ‘Book of Rights.

The arms of the O’Quins and the O’Deas are registered in an old MS. authority in the Herald’s Office, Dublin, entitled, “Smith’s Ordinary of Arms, Ulster’s Office.

In the celebrated Irish topographical poems of O’Dugain and O’Heerin, translated and edited for the Archaeological Society in 1862, by Dr. O’Donovan, a short notice of O’Quin is to be found. This edition contains a most curious and valuable treatise on ancient Irish names, and their various transformations into their English equivalents. It was the last contribution to our early literature by one of the greatest topographical scholars that Ireland ever produced. These poems were written in the fourteenth century, and describe the localities of the different Irish tribes, clans, &c., at the time of the English invasion:

To O’Cuinn of the candid heart
Belongs the extensive Muintir-Ifearnain,
The fruitful land of the fine youth
Lies round the festive Cora-Finne.

The following letter from Dr. Petrie, written in 1841, is interesting in connection with the O’Quinsand signed 21, Great Charles-street, Dublin, September 28, 1841.

MY DEAR LORD,

The notice of the family sepulcher of the O’Quins of Inchiquin, in the old church of Kilnaboy, of which I was speaking to you is, as written on the spot, as follows:

“No part of this church (Kilnaboy) appears to be older than the fourteenth century, except the west gable, which appears to be as old as the eleventh century; and there is a tradition here that the whole of this church, excepting the west gable, was battered down by Cromwell’s soldiers, and subsequently rebuilt by the O’Briens of Inchiquin.

“There is a circular low archway of cut stone in the north wall (at the ground) near the east gable, which tradition says was the entrance to the family sepulchral vault of O’Quin, which vault was within the choir, but no vestiges of it now remain.

“If tradition be correct as to the owners of this family sepulcher, and there is no reason to doubt its truth, it would follow that the O’Quins must have been the builders or rebuilders of the church in the eleventh century, and very possibly the builders of the Round tower also, which it is most probable was erected at the same period.

“Of this tower only a fragment now remains. It is 13 ft. in height, and 52 ft. 6 in. in circumference at its base, and stands 52 ft. north of the centre of the north wall of the church. It is built very roughly of oblong squared stones laid in irregular courses; has no vestige of doorway or other aperture, and on its south side appears to have been battered by cannon, a circumstance very likely to have occurred during Ireton’s sojourn in Clare.

“Believe me always,
“My dear Lord, with true respect,
“Yours faithfully,

George Petrie

Dr. Petrie, some years ago, contributed to the “Irish Penny Journal” a paper containing a description of the lake of Inchiquin, and a curious legend connected with the expulsion or removal of the O’Quins from their ancient patrimony, from which the following extracts are taken. “The lake of Inchiquin is situated in the parish of Kilnaboy, barony of Inchiquin, and is about two miles and a-half in circumference. It is bounded on its western side by a range of hills rugged but richly wooded, and rising abruptly from its margin. One solitary island alone appears on its surface, unless that be ranked as one on which the ancient castle is situated, and which may originally have been insulated, though no longer so. The castle, which is situated at the northern side of the lake, though greatly dilapidated, is still a picturesque and interesting ruin, consisting of the remains of a barbican tower, keep, and old mansion-house attached to it; and its situation on a rocky island or peninsula standing out in the smooth water, with its grey walls relieved by the dark masses of the wooded hills behind, is eminently striking and imposing.

“It is from this island or peninsula that the barony takes its name; and from this also the chief of the O’Briens, the Marquis of Thomond, derives his more ancient title of Earl of Inchiquin. For a long period it was the principal residence of the chiefs of this great family, to one of whom it unquestionably owes its origin; but we have not been able to ascertain with certainty the name of its founder, or date of its erection. There is, however, every reason to ascribe its foundation to Tiege O’Brien, king or lord of Thomond, who died, according to the Annals of the Four Masters, in 1466, as he is the first of his name on record who made it his residence, and as its architectural features are most strictly characteristic of the style of the age in which he flourished.

“The locality, as its name indicates, and as history and tradition assures us, was the ancient residence of the O’Quins, a family of equal antiquity with the O’Briens, and of the same stock,—namely, the Dal Cas, or descendants of Cormac Cas, the son of Ollioll Oluim, who was monarch of Ireland in the beginning of the third century. The O’Quins were chiefs of the clan called Hy-Ifearan, and their possessions were bounded by those of the O’Deas on the east, the O’Loughlins and O’Connors (Corcomroe) on the west and north-west, the O’Hynes on the north, and the O’Hehirs on the south. At what period and from what circumstance the O’Quins lost their ancient patrimony, we have not been able to discover; but it would appear to have been about the middle or perhaps close of the fourteenth century, to which time their genealogy as chiefs is recorded in that invaluable repository of Irish family history, the book of Mac Firbis; and it would seem most probable that they were transplanted by the O’Briens about this period to the county of Limerick, in which they are subsequently found. Their removal is indeed differently accounted for in a popular legend still current in the barony, and which, according to our recollections of it, is to the following effect: “In the youth of the last O’Quin, of Inchiquin, he saw from his residence a number of swans of singular beauty frequenting the west side of the lake, and wandering along its shore. Wishing, if possible, to possess himself of one of them, he was in the habit of concealing himself among the rocks and woods in its vicinity, hoping that he might take them by surprise, and he was at length successful; one of them became his captive, and was secretly carried to his residence, when, to his amazement and delight, throwing off her downy covering, she assumed the form of a beautiful woman, and shortly after became his wife.

Previous to the marriage, however, she imposed certain conditions on her lover as the price of her consent, to which he willingly agreed. These were:—first, that their union should be kept secret; secondly, that he should not receive any visitors at his mansion, particularly these of the O’Briens; and lastly, that he should wholly abstain from gambling. For some years these conditions were strictly adhered to; they lived in happiness together, and two children blessed their union.

But it happened unfortunately at length that at the neighboring races of Cood he fell in with the O’Briens, by whom he was hospitably treated; and being induced to indulge in too much wine, he forgot his engagements to his wife, and invited them to his residence on a certain day to repay their kindness to him. His wife heard of this invitation with sadness, but proceeded without remonstrance to prepare the feast for his guests. But she did not grace it with her presence; and when the company had assembled, and were engaged in merriment, she withdrew to her own apartment, to which she called her children, and after embracing them in a paroxysm of grief, which they could not account for, she took her original feathery covering from a press in which it had been kept, arrayed herself in it, and assuming her pristine shape, plunged into the lake, and was never seen afterwards.

On the same night, O’Quin, again forgetful of the promises he had made her, engaged in play with Tiege-an-Cood O’Brien, the most distinguished of his guests, and lost the whole of his property.

“The reader is at liberty to believe as much or as little of this story as he pleases; but at all events the legend is valuable in a historical point of view, as indicating the period when the lands of Inchiquin passed into the hands of the O'Brien family; nor is it wholly improbable that under the guise of a wild legend may be concealed some indistinct tradition of such a real occurrence as that O’Quin made a union long kept hidden, with a person of inferior station, and that its discovery—as in case of Thomas, the sixth Earl of Desmond—drew upon his head the vengeance of his proud compeers, and led to their removal to another district of the chiefs of the clan Hy-Ifearnan.

“Be this, however, as it may, the ancient family of O’Quin—more fortunate than most other Irish families of noble origin—has never sunk into obscurity, or been without a representative of aristocratic rank; and it can at present boast of a representative among the nobility of the empire in the person of its justly presumed chief, the noble Earl of Dunraven, and Mount Earl.”

Another legend relating to the same event, written by a gentleman well versed in the legendary lore of these wild but strikingly picturesque districts, is taken from the Illustrated Dublin Journal. It is called “The Golden Butterfly:”After visiting the stupendous cliffs of Moher, the tourist who proceeds inland and climbs to the summit of a certain steep mountain in the parish of Kilnaboy, county Clare, will see shining beneath him in the summer sunlight the beautiful lake of Inchiquin, with its solitary island and its ruined castle.

“Like many another Irish lake, the waters of Inchiquin are said to roll over the domes and palaces of a submerged city. The solitary fisherman who rows his light skiff or curragh over its smooth expanse on a calm summer evening, still believes that he can see the round towers of other days
In the waves beneath him shining and will tell you a tale of a remote ancestor of the O’Quins, in which that hero is represented in the act of being overwhelmed by the raging waters, castle, town, and all, on account of some offense against one of the fairy potentates of the locality. Be this as it may, we will now come to the last O’Quin who ruled over the wild and romantic territory of Hy-Ifearnan, his ancient patrimony, and relate the cause of his expulsion from that region of mountain and moor, lake and tumbling river, together with his migration at the head of his broken clan across the Shannon, and his settlement in the county Limerick, where his descendants remain to the present day, still holding a considerable portion of the rich lands of which they originally took possession.

“In the castle of Inchiquin dwelt Donal, an aged chief, whose youth and manhood had been spent in battle and turmoil, but who now in his old age determined to throw aside targe and spear and iron glove, and spend the remainder of his days governing his broad lands in peace and equity. Of all Donal’s children none remained to cheer his heart as he trod the final stages of life’s troublous journey, save his youngest son, Rory the Black, a youth of whom the old chief was very proud, and who was already renowned for both his personal beauty and for his many knightly accomplishments. At the period to which we allude, young Rory the Black was just after leaving the ancient monastery of Kilfenora, in which he had been educated from his childhood, and from which he had never been allowed to come forth, save on such times as he was sent to the wars to learn the profession of arms, or during the great days of festival held by his clan in their merry principality of Hy-Ifearnan.

One day, after his departure from Kilfenora and final settlement in his father’s castle of Inchiquin, young Rory went out to hunt. Unattended by either headsman or horse-varlet, he crossed the rugged chain of mountains that overhung the lake, and rode down into a deep glen, through the bosom of which a murmuring brown stream rolled down sparkling in the sunlight. After traversing several miles of this glen with his four gray stag-hounds behind him, the green forest beneath which he rode gradually became more stunted, and at length disappeared altogether, when before him opened a wide, stern, and solitary valley, without a single shrub or tree to hide its grim rocks and barren hollows. On making the circuit round the base of a huge crag that towered over the turbulent stream, he looked up the valley and saw a huge red stag rushing down its eastern slope, with a man who ran with extraordinary swiftness in close pursuit behind him. This strange hunter was clad in the skins of beasts, and held a short bright spear in his hand, which he cast at the stag as the latter with a bound cleared the broad bed of the torrent. He missed his aim, however, and the spear stuck quivering deep in the green sward on the further bank, while the stag bounded swiftly up the other slope of the valley. And now the hunter, also with a single bound, cleared the stream, snatched up his weapon, and with chest bent forward and head erect darted up the hill at a speed that soon brought him within his original distance of the panting stag. But beyond that distance he seemed unable to advance as both swept up the hill, till at last they disappeared from the view of Rory the Black beyond its verge.

The young chief now rode farther up the valley, expecting to see no more of the hunter and the stag; but after a short time they appeared retracing their headlong course, and enacting over again what had occurred at the crossing of the torrent. Six times was all this repeated, during which Rory had great difficulty in preventing his hounds from darting forward and joining in the marvelous chase. At the seventh time, just as the hunter had thrown his spear, and was in the act of springing across the glen, his foot caught in a looped ivy stem that stretched along the edge, and he was thrown headlong into the deep pool of water beneath. Rory knew that such a hunter had but little to fear from the narrow pool of a mountain torrent, and seeing the stag rush up the hill, he found himself unable to resist the temptation any longer, so, throwing the bridle loose and touching his steed with the spur, he called merrily to his hounds and dashed in pursuit. The stag
had got a good start, and as Rory gained the ridge or spine of the hill, was half way down the slope at the other side. But now both steed and hounds went bravely downward, and began to gain upon the deer, till the latter, coming to the base of an immense wall of rock at the bottom,
turned upward in a circular course, and went back again in full career for the first valley, where, instead of directly crossing the stream as he did previously, he now rushed obliquely along the slopes and rocks towards the extreme end, and there turning, came down at a thundering pace on the opposite side, with Rory and his baying hounds still close upon his track. Another round of the immense valley, and again the stag came down, now on the very brink of the roaring stream. Just as he had gained the spot where his first pursuer fell, however, Bran, Rory’s best hound, seized him by the haunch, and after a violent struggle, during which the other dogs had come up, all rolled over the abrupt edge into the stream. Rory, on coming to the spot, dismounted and looked down. The huge stag was stretched dead beneath upon the sand, and the hounds were quietly lapping the cool water beside him. The strange hunter, however, was nowhere to be seen, till Rory, after descending the steep side of the glen and making a close search, at last found him lying upon a damp bank, apparently dead from the effects of his fall.

After a copious sprinkling of water from the stream, the stranger at length began to revive, and was soon able to stand and account for himself. Young future Chief of Inchiquin,’ he said, ‘thou hast done me a service, for which I will repay thee well. Who art thou?’ returned Rory; for I never saw a man in thy strange guise amid these mountains before. I am Merulan the Wizard, answered the stranger. Take thy stag, then,’ said Rory. ‘Wert thou another hunter I might claim him for myself, seeing that my hounds have killed him; but, by my knightly faith, it were pity to deprive hunter like thee of such spoil. Take him; — or, stay; come to my father’s house, and thou shalt have good cheer during many a merry moon. I cannot go,’ answered Merulan, ‘but I thank thee none the less. Thou and thine wert ever bountiful to the poor and friendless from generation to generation, since the day that the mighty Olliol Oluim put his sword in the scabbard, and made the wise laws for the sons of Inisfail. Why canst thou not come?’ said Rory, looking kindly on Merulan. ‘Thou hast nought to bind thee to one spot, so come with me, and we "shall have feasting and merry revel for many a day in the old halls of Inchiquin. It cannot be,’ returned Merulan. ‘I must spend a year and a day in the cave that lies beneath yonder crag. The stag the hounds have killed will give me food for a long time; and,’ continued he, with a smile of strange sweetness and benevolence, ‘when I want another, thou hast seen enough of me to-day to shew thee that I cannot die with hunger whilst a single deer bides within these mountains. However, for the service thou hast done me, take this,’ and putting his hand into his leathern pouch he drew therefrom the semblance of a butterfly, carved in flashing gold, and handed it to Rory. One of the legs of the glittering little image was pointed like the pin of a brooch. ‘Take this,’ continued he, ‘and place it as a clasp for thy plume. As yet thy heart is kind and full of equity, but when thou growest older, the world may change thee, as it changeth every mortal man. Wear this, however, above thy forehead, and as long as thou doest right it will continue to shine brightly as thou seest it now; but the moment the doing of a bad deed enters into thy heart, it will cease to shine, and become dull and dark as the damp sod beneath our feet.

Rory, after looking with delight on the strange gift, placed it as a clasp to the plume of his light-barred cap. Merulan, with another smile, bade him farewell, and then both left the glen, Rory riding across the ridge into another valley, and the wizard bearing the body of the stag towards his solitary cave.

When Rory had crossed the range of mountains, the mighty and rugged spurs of which shot out into a wide plain, a great forest extended itself before him, within the mazes of which he wound his horn merrily and hunted all day long, till the sun seemed resting beyond upon the far glittering waves of the boundless ocean. He then bethought himself of returning, but before he did so dismounted and sat down upon a green bank, in a flowery dell barred-cap, and looked again upon the golden butterfly. Its two minute eyes seemed of diamonds, and as the dark shadows gathered down faster and faster, and made a gloom upon all the forest around, the wonderful image emitted a light that seemed to fill the whole glade, and enabled him to distinguish the smallest leaf or blade of grass, even to a point far in between the trunks of the encircling trees. After gazing and wondering for some time, he again mounted his steed, and calling his hounds, proceeded through the forest homeward, the magic plume-clasp lighting his way through dark recesses and tangled paths with a brilliancy far transcending that of the brightest star or the yellow moon of autumn.

“On the farthest verge of the forest ran a broad, swift river, to which the turbulent stream of the desert valley was a tributary. As Rory came towards the bank of this river, he heard a wild and piteous scream, which seemed to proceed from some one struggling for life in the water. Down he rode to the bank, the magic butterfly still lighting his way, and looking out upon the stream, beheld in the midst the figure of a young girl as she floated helplessly with the tide, still, however, faintly endeavoring to keep herself upon the surface. In an instant Rory dashed his horse into the river, at a point below that where the girl was still struggling, and as she floated downward, caught her in his strong grasp, and carried her safe to the other shore. For a time she lay insensible on the bank, but she soon recovered and thanked her deliverer in a voice of exceeding sweetness. She said that she was the only daughter of a kern, or foot-soldier, who lived hard by, and who served the lord of Inchiquin, and that as she was crossing the ford, a little distance above, she had lost her footing and fallen into the river.

“Rory, by the light of the golden image, had time to examine the features and form of the young girl, as she stood up and prepared to depart for her father’s mortal, and invited him to partake of the hospitality of her father’s cot beside the river. This invitation Rory thankfully accepted, and when they arrived at the wood-kern’s cottage, the surprise of the young girl knew no bounds when she saw her father welcoming Rory as the son of the brave lord of Inchiquin.

The more Rory saw of the beautiful young girl, the more he admired her, and when he took his departure in the morning, it is not to be wondered at that he resolved to return frequently to the cottage. And he did return, and who will marvel when they hear that he was at last in love with the beautiful Enna, the daughter of the wood-kern, and that he swore, come what would, to make her his wife? All this, however, he kept secret from his father, for he knew that the latter, though just and wise, would sooner see him dead than the husband of a low-born maiden such as Enna.

And thus a year passed away, at the end of which the old lord of Inchiquin, finding his health failing, and wishing to see his affairs settled before his death, began to negotiate a match between his son and the daughter of O’Brien, lord of Thomond. It was now that Rory found himself sorely beset, between his duty to his father and his love for the young peasant girl. In those times the wishes of children were not consulted, particularly by their parents, and so after a few meetings between the lord of Thomond and his vassal chief, old Donal of Inchiquin, the match was made, and the day was appointed for the marriage of Rory the Black and the haughty Maud O’Brien.

The important day came, and Rory, who had secretly married the lovely Enna in the interim, refused of course the hand of the princess of Thomond, for which rebellious act, at the instigation of O’Brien, he was lodged in one of the strongest dungeons of Inchiquin by his incensed father.

Day after day the old chief visited Rory in his prison, expecting the latter to be brought to reason, and thus matters went on for nearly half-a-year, at the end of which time Rory grew tired of his confinement, and began to think in his misery of repudiating his low-born wife..."marrying the young princess of Thomond. The father, noticing the change, now worked upon his mind untiringly, until at length Rory gave his consent, though he knew that in the far-off cottage by the forest river, his rightful wife would die when she heard the woeful news. It was now all rejoicing in Inchiquin. Rory was liberated, and another day was appointed for the bridal that had caused so much trouble. The lord of Thomond’s castle was situated a considerable distance away from Inchiquin, beyond the mountains, and that they might reach it about noon, Rory and his father, and their gallant train, set out on their journey before the dawn of day. On they went, and now some glamour seemed to influence Rory, for never a thought came into his mind of the golden butterfly, and the kindly warning of Merulan, in connection with it.

At the crossing of a glen his horse stumbled, but there was now no light to guide his way—nothing but darkness before and around him. During the passage of a quagmire, again his horse stumbled, and almost fell forward into a treacherous pool of water; still he thought not of the golden gift of Merulan and now upon the plain smooth road, the horse for the third time stumbled and fell forward, bringing Rory down with him.

I would to heaven, exclaimed the young chief, as he extricated himself from his horse, and then helped the animal to rise—‘that it was on the road to the far-off forest I was, where dwells my loved and lawful wife!

At that moment the golden butterfly cast a faint glitter upon the dark road. She will die, poor thing,’ resumed Rory, when she hears of the base act I am about to do. I have half a mind to refuse once more, be the consequence what it may! The gleam from the golden image became brighter. Yes!’ exclaimed Rory as he now noticed the change suddenly, ‘come what will I will not advance a step further towards the consummation of this bad deed. I will return and proclaim my wife to my father’s vassals, and die if necessary to defend her! And now the light became like the rising sun, brightening all a-near. Rory sprang to his saddle, wheeled his horse around, and in a moment dashed away on the backward track, pursued by his father and the train of gallants who attended him. It was still dark, and the rays from the magic butterfly lit Rory’s path as he fled fast and far towards the cottage of his young wife. His father was soon left behind, and the pursuit at length entirely ceased.

Rory reached his wife before the hot noontide, and lived concealed in her little cot beside the river for a month. At the end of that time his father died, and he was proclaimed chief of Inchiquin. He then avowed his marriage, when a fierce war followed between himself and the prince of Thomond, who swore that he would never rest night or day, till the clan O’Quin was swept, root and branch, from the principality of Clare. And he kept his vow, for he never ceased till he had driven Rory the Black to such extremities, that the latter, with his young wife and his broken clan, was at length forced to bid farewell to his ancient patrimony of Inchiquin, and cross the Shannon into the county Limerick, where his line, as we have said, is still represented by the Earl of Dunraven.

One branch of the O’Quin’s remained in the neighborhood of Inchiquin: the autograph Visitation of Bishop Worth, the first Bishop after the Restoration, contains several notices connected with them, furnished to me by the late Professor O’Curry. “John O’Quin released” certain lands “about Kilnaboy, to the Bishop (Rider) in 1617.” Part of the Commons of Kilnaboy are set by the Bishop to Roger O’Quin (same date), &c. Some of the family can be traced in the neighborhood down to the present century, and there is a pedigree among the Adare papers, connected apparently with these O’Quin’s, which narrates some curious anecdotes, and seems to come down to the latter part of last century; but a portion is missing, and unfortunately that part which was probably explanatory of the whole, and might have furnished the means of connecting the different branches of the family. Having left the county of Clare, appears to have settled at Kilmallock, and to have rather sunk into obscurity. James Quin, of Kilmallock, had a brother John, a Dominican Friar, who was Bishop of Limerick, according to Ware, in the reign of Henry VIII., but being blind and infirm, he resigned in April, 1551.

James Quin’s great grandson, Donough, married the heiress of the O’Riordans, ‘who had possessed for five centuries an estate running for three or four miles along the banks of the Maigue.’ He appears to have been the first of the family who resided at Adare, but whether on the site of the present manor-house, cannot be ascertained. He died in 1671, and was buried in the Abbey (Franciscan) of Adare. His son, Mr. Thady (or Theodore) Quin, born in 1645, may justly be esteemed as the second founder or restorer of his family. A valuable and curious letter from him to Sir John Kirwan, of Castle Hackett, (ancestor of the present Lady Cloncurry,) written in 1714, is extant among the Adare papers, and contains many interesting particulars about the Quin's.

In the beginning of this letter Mr. Quin announces the marriage of his son John to Sir John Kirwan’s grandchild, daughter of Sir Walter Blake. He then goes on to mention that some malicious person, in order to prevent the match and breed discord, had endeavored to throw aspersions upon his family, which, however, Sir Walter Blake did not believe:

“The reflection is that my father was a piper, that my name and family was mean and obscure, that in my younger days I was a solicitor, and that I am not able to perform with Sir Walter Blake half what I promise; and not knowing but this might reach your ears and pass for truth with you, I think it proper to give in vindication of my credit, the same answer I gave Sir Walter.”

In his explanation Mr. Quin enters into a sketch of the history of his family, and points out the origin of the curious story of the piper, which he satisfactorily disposes of. He mentions that the O’Riordan property was much encumbered, and a great part of it ran in gavelkind, which explains his inheriting so small an estate. He goes on to give an account of his three marriages. The first was with the daughter and heiress of Mr. Andrew Rice, of Dingle, whose estate was forfeited, and in lieu Mr. Rice obtained five hundred acres in the county of Clare, which property was in possession of Valentine, Thady Quin’s eldest son, at the date of the letter. This must be the estate mentioned in King Charles’s grant to Mr. Quin, (vide Appendix D.) After describing his second and third marriages, he goes on to state that he was left by his father “a piece of freehold estate and a beneficial farm worth above £100 a-year, besides his stock of cows, sheep, and horses.” He then mentions the various branches of the O’Quin’s in Ireland, to show their importance in ancient times, and thus concludes:

“My father, designing to make me a lawyer, was advised I should by soliciting, as others did, first learn the practice part of the law. I did so, and studied hard Coke upon Littleton, and other books for three years, but it being reported Roman Catholic lawyers would be suspended, I betook to country affairs and to my industry, and £100 a-year, and the stock I had by my father’s death, and to my portions God gave that blessing that I am now like others envied.”

Mr. Quin appears to have resided at Beabush previous to his removal to Adare. He purchased the moiety of that town land, with the mill, in 1669. Of his house not a stone above ground remains, nor is there any tradition of the Quins having lived at Beabush. Recently the foundations of a house near the mill were discovered, which doubtless was Mr. Quin’s residence; it is said, by the old people in the neighborhood, to have belonged to the Keatings, into which family one of his daughters married. In 1674 and 1675, Mr. Quin made additional purchases in the neighborhood of Adare, and in 1678 he obtained a lease of 1,000 years of the forfeited lands about Adare, which had been granted to the Ormsbysᵈ; this included the Abbeys, Abbey lands, &c.: the lease contains a clause that Mr. Quin was to improve and reside on the premises.

In the same year he bought the family property about Croom, and in 1683 obtained a long lease from the Earl of Kildare of a portion of his estates at Adare, including the old castle, manor mills, markets, fairs, &c. Next year Mr. Quin procured a patent from Charles II. for all the lands he had purchased, including Clonlehard, a hilly property in the west of the county, containing about 5,000 acres, which was sold by his grandson, Mr. Windham Quin.