It has often been asked by foreigners, why a country justly boasting of her poets and orators, has not produced an able historian, who can be classed with a Voltaire, a Gibbon, or a Robertson; and why the learning of an Usher, or the genius of a Swift, has left no historical monument to perpetuate the ancient glories of a nation, that in remote ages was styled, the “Isle of learning, and the school of the west?” We confess our inability to answer the question satisfactorily.

Perhaps the primary cause of the desideratum, in our ancient history, may be principally ascribed to the zeal of St. Pati’ick, who, to the eternal loss of Irish literature, caused more than 500 volumes of our records to be committed to the flames at Tara. McDermott, Lynch, and Flanagan, are of opinion that Ossian’s autographs blazed in the conflagration kindled by the Christian Missionary. Another cause of the scantiness of historical materials, may be fairly traced to the vile assiduity of Danish and English invaders, to annihilate all memorials of our ancient greatness, power, and grandeur.

Still it must be confessed, that the ancient chronology of all countries, as well as that of Ireland, is extremely erroneous and uncertain. What is the boasted alleged origin of the Greeks from, the gods, but the creation of poetical fancy, the chimerical mythology of Hesiod, Homer, and other Grecian fabulists?

Even in holy writ, there are the most irreconcilable anachronisms. The Septuagint and many of the fathers of the church, fix the period intervening the creation, and the vocation of Abraham, at 3513 years, whilst the Hebrews and many Christian ecclesiastics compute it but 2023! Varro, the Roman historian, finding it impossible to grope his way through the dark mazes of chronology, declared that the dates and epochs of all the events, said to have occurred before the first Olympiad, (i. e. the year after the creation, 3232,) were but the imaginary computations of fiction. We find that the Greeks began to reckon their historical eras by the Olympiads, and the Romans [iv] distinguished theirs by the period that elapsed from the foundation of the “ETERNAL CITY.” Hence we are not to wonder at the discrepancy in the chronological order of ancient Irish events, particularly those that took place before the coming of our Melesian ancestors. The authenticity of the events enumerated in our annals, is at least as well established as that of the history of England, and the united testimony of foreign and native writers has fortified our pretension to remote antiquity, with evidence and arguments that cannot be impeached or subverted. The historic pillars that support the proud edifice of our illustrious origin, like those of Hercules, cannot be destroyed; they, (thanks to our ancient Monks,) escaped the rage of the Danes, the fury of the Henries, and the Richards; the rapacity and perfidy of the myrmidons of the sanguinary Elizabeth, and the ruthless and diabolical fanaticism of Oliver Cromwell. Some English and Scottish writers, actuated by rancorous prejudice, regard the whole of our traditional, and even our written records of early times, with a fastidious degree of incredulity. This unwarrantable scepticism, with which these writers are so incurably infected, may be justly imputed to their ignorance of the Irish language, and the consequent derision with which they treat of our historical events and circumstances; and the impotent attempt, which they make to give them a fabulous aspect. But some of their own historians have denominated Ireland, “the venerable mother of Britain and Albany.” These sceptical writers seem to have adopted the maxim of Voltaire, in their opinions of Irish history — “that incredulity is the source of wisdom.” The philosophic Lord Bolingbroke has indeed asserted, that it is an egregious folly to endeavor to establish universal pyrrhonism, in matters of historical investigation, because there are no histories without a mixture of facts and fictions. We think, however, that there is more truth in the opinion of the splendid moralist, Dr. Johnson, who steadily maintained that all the coloring of history was imparted by the pencil of fancy. How, then, can it excite surprise, if there are defects in the chronological arrangements of Irish history, when even in the present age of literature and philosophic light, we cannot find any two accounts of the same event perfectly in accordance, in the detail of their minute circumstances and leading features? There is an anecdote related in the life of Sir Walter Raleigh, which throws a blaze of illustration on the subject. One morning, after his confinement in the Tower of London, by the order of the fanatic pedant, James I. while deeply engaged in reconciling the jarring and contrary accounts of various [v] historians, respecting some noted transactions that had occurred in the early ages of the world, he was annoyed and disturbed by a fray which happened in the courtyard exactly under his window. He was not able to see the transactions with his own eyes, so that he was anxious to obtain a narrative of it, from the first person that came into his apartment, who gave a circumstantial account of it, which he asserted to be correct, as he had seen, he said, the entire affair. In a few minutes after he had given his detail of the occurrence, another friend, Paul Pry-like, dropped in, who gave a different version of the disturbance, and just as his relation was finished, a third person entered, who asserted he was an eye-witness of the fracas, and his recital of it was as opposite and as contra-distinguished as light and darkness, from the narratives of the two preceding observers. Sir Walter, astonished at the amazing discrepancy in their stories, exclaimed,— “Good God! how is it possible I can pretend to arrive at certainty, respecting events which happened 3000 years ago, when I cannot obtain a correct account of what happened under my window, only three hours since.” — Every province in Ireland had its historian, who kept its records, and every chief had his laureate and antiquarian; for so late as the usurpation of Cromwell, we find that the famous Poet, McDairy, was the Bard of the Earl of Thomond. In a country where there was much competition among poets and historians, we must be so candid as to admit, that it is probable that, in order to swell the panegyric of their chieftains and patrons, they often decked their fame and exploits in the tinsel drapery of poetic imagination. “As a question becomes more complicated and involved,” says the discriminating Doctor Hawkesworth, “and extends to a greater number of relations, disagreement of opinion will always be multiplied, not because we are irrational, but because we are finite beings, furnished with different kinds of knowledge, exerting different degrees of attention.” But though a portion of fable has been infused into our early history, yet the credit that attaches to the events connected with the landing of the Milesian colony in A. M. 2736, and the transactions and circumstances of the subsequent ages, which intervened from that epoch, until the invasion of Henry II. are authenticated by historical evidence which cannot be impeached.*

* Vide Bede, Warner, Whitaker, Laing, Lloyde, Smith, Camden, Valiancy, &c. [vi]

The first materials of history must have been collected from national traditions, public inscriptions, and other authorities of a similar complexion; and though the accounts delivered through the [vi] medium of popular legends, should even escape the tinge and alloy of hyperbolical exaggeration, yet the person who first recorded them, flattered with the novelty of being the original historian of his country, is naturally induced to exalt their character by the embellishments of style, and the coloring of poetry, in order to cover the barren field of incident with the verdure of imagination, and people it with heroes and heroines that never had existence. Succeeding historians, finding it difficult to separate fiction from fact, or perhaps in some instances, rather obeying the impulse of their desires than the approbation of their judgment, recorded all the fabricated accounts which they received with historical fidelity.Though the ancient annals of Rome are replete with fiction, the Roman historians have drawn no line of distinction between the true and the fabulous part. Livy, the ablest and most candid of their historical writers, has admitted that it would be a kind of heresy against the dignity of a nation, to question the authenticity of its original records: he, therefore, omitted no fact, which he found sanctioned by antiquity. He seemed to be aware that truth was so blended and interwoven with invention, that it would be an endless, perhaps an insuperable task, to separate them: — but let us give his op’inion in his own words — “Quæ ante conditam condendamve urbem poeticis magisdecora fabulis, quam incorruptis rerum gestarum monumentis traduntur, ea nec affirmare nec resellere; in animo est.”* The Milesians commenced their own immediate history with Phaenius, their great progenitor, and continued it with wonderful accuracy and fidelity, through the ages that elapsed from his time, until his remote descendants, Heber and Heremon, after the expiration of twenty-three generations, invaded Ireland, A.M. 2736. But we are not, in this introduction, to elucidate the inaccuracies of our chronology, nor could we, if we were inclined, light a torch, like our great and gifted country-woman. Lady Morgan, to show the reader the remains of our ancient renown and glory, mouldering in the catacombs of the Irish annals. There is not now in existence, and we say it unhesitatingly, any person who could write a better history of that country, of which she is the pride and the ornament, than her Ladyship. The profundity of her research — the flowery luxuriance of her style — the fervour of her patriotism — the philosophy of her investigations — and, above all, the intimate acquaintance which she [vi] has with the language in which Ossian sung, and Brian Boroihme bade defiance to his foes, would enable her to reflect the concentrated rays of these brilliant combinations, on a History of Ireland, that would wither the laurel wreaths, with which the historic Muse entwined the brows of a Gibbon, a Hume, and a Henry.

* It is not my intention to maintain, nor yet to deny those accounts that have been transmitted to us, prior to the foundation and building of the city, as they may probably be vested in the drapery of poetic invention, rather than founded by truth on the basis of uncorrupted history, or arrayed in the modest garb of fact.

It must surely have excited surprise in the minds of the inquisitive readers, that while we have numberless histories of England and Scotland, adapted to popular use, no successful attempt has been made, since the days of the Irish Livy, O’Halloran, to familiarize the reading world with the events of Irish history, by presenting its records in a commodious and economical form. Yet it will not be denied, that the occurrences which took place in Ireland, during the last two centuries, and especially since the accession of George III. to the present time, demand the attention of the philosopher and the historian — furnishing, as they do, moral lessons, from which not only they, but the statesmen of the world, might derive wisdom, experience, and instruction; for to form a just and impartial estimate of her present character, they must know something of her past greatness, and present degradation; — her wrongs, persecutions, and injuries, which may be pronounced as flagitious, as ever the most wicked and tyrannic oppressors inflicted on a nation, to depress her spirit, sap her moral energies, and deteriorate her inherent and indigenous virtues. The picture presented by such mercenary Irish apostates, as Dr. Thomas Leland, the Rev. Mr. Gordon, Sir Richard Musgrave, Barlow, Taylor, and the late renegade. Dr. O’Connor,* (the degenerate grand-son of the celebrated and patriotic author of the Dissertations on Irish History,) who, like a parricide of his country’s fame, sold all the manuscripts of his venerable grandfather, to the Duke of Buckingham, in whose sepulchral library, at Stowe, “they rot in state,” is distorted in its outline by venality, and heightened in its coloring by exaggeration, so that it bears no resemblance to the original. While, however, Ave denounce these hired traducers of their native land, let us not withhold merited praise from the venerable Keating, the learned O’Halloran, the impartial Dr. Warner, (an Englishman) the acute O’Flaherty, the erudite Bishop Usher, the sympathetic and intelligent Curry, the eloquent Lawless, the zealous Taaffe, the accomplished McDermott, the classic Dalton, and “though last not least,” the elegant and efficient vindicator of the aspersed Irish, Mr. Plowden, whose history [viii] of Ireland, in all the great historical essentials, is superior to any similar production extant. All these historians have contributed materially to illuminate the antique darkness of our annals; but their works do not embrace those topics, which the ample materials in our hands will enable us to introduce in our History.

The American readers, who may honor this history with a perusal, will be astonished at the record of our discords and civil warfare in feudal times. But we must inform them that martial glory was the goal of the ancient Irish warrior’s ambition: — for him the sweets of peace and domestic happiness, had no charms or allurements. The inspiring songs of the bards, and the siren voice of anticipated military fame, hurried him to the field of combat, where distinction and renown could only be obtained, and the laurels of celebrity gathered. The chieftain was sure of being branded with degradation, who would loiter in the soft lap of luxury and inglorious pleasure. To be generously brave, is surely no proof of savage barbarity: and that such was the chivalric bravery of the Milesian Irish, will appear evident, when history assures us, that none of our monarchs ever survived the misfortune of a defeat in battle, except Malachy II. who fled from the glorious conflict of Clontarfe [sic]. Let us peruse the history of the Romans, and it will exhibit a scene of eternal warfare, in which dissension and civil broils are perpetually mingled with foreign conquests. The Grecian states carried the glory of arms to the highest pitch of ambition, at the same time that they termed all other nations barbarians. Athens and Sparta wasted their strength in destroying each other, and yet they were considered the most elegant and polished people in the Grecian Republics; nor was the soul-moving Demosthenes deemed a barbarian, when he, by his animating harangues, excited his countrymen to arms,

and with —

It is, therefore, evident, that wars and civil commotions are no proofs of a deficiency of refinement of manners, or enlightenment of civilization, and however derogatory they may be to the precepts of religion, and the injunctions of morality, they still exhibit a theatre where all the higher powers of the mind are called into action — where the victor is disarmed of his enmity, by the pleadings of compassion, and the fortunate conquerer laments over the fallen foe.

But perhaps we have already extended this introduction to prolixity; [ix] but we must of necessity carry it a little farther in order to define our plan. We are aware of the important task we have assigned ouiself, and of the difficulty that will attend the writing of a comprehensive History of Ireland. We have indeed an abundance of materials, which we hope by industry and assiduity, to arrange with historical skill, and to combine information and instruction in our work, which will furnish a succinct narrative of all the memorable events that occurred in Ireland from the arrival of Partholanus, down to the present year. Nothing shall be omitted that deserves to be remembered. In relating the merits and demerits of memorable actions, we shall endeavor to trace them to the motives from which they originated — to elevate such as were consecrated by laudable intention, to their just eminence of moral celebrity, and to stamp such as sprang from the source of turpitude, with the stigma of reprobation. We will bring the cotemporary authority of English and Scottish writers to our aid, in dissipating the mists of prejudice, in which some of their countrymen obscured our fair fame and character. We shall let Americans see what Erin once was, for what she is, alas! is known to the world. She has been the victim of English calumny, and it is generally in that deceitful mirror of misrepresentation, that she is even now reflected in America. We shall do all we can to subvert the baseless system of English and Scottish defamation — and to defend the ancient historic structure of Ireland, which we contemplate with the inalienable sympathies of hereditary affection, from the assaults of prejudice and incredulity.

We will give a fair, and we hope, an impartial history of Ireland; though candor obliges us to confess, that when we come to detail the wrongis and persecutions of our native land, we cannot help speaking with warmth; for he that would merit the title of quite an impartial historian, should, like Imlac’s Poet, divest himself of all the passions, feelings, and prejudices of his age and country.

In our history we shall give a luminous review of the literature, manners, and customs of the Irish people, embracing an inquiry into the merits of their genius, eloquence, valor, and characteristics, as well as specimens of the forensic and senatorial displays of Grattan, Curran, Burke, Sheridan, Burgh, Flood, O’Connell, Plunket, Sheil and Phillips.