Raymond de Perilleux and Lough Derg

Raymond de Perilleux and Lough Derg

Lough Derg--Antiquities--Guide--Commentary

A history of Lough Derg and its Antiquities. This extract comes from an 1836 story in the Dublin Penny Journal Count Raymond de Perilleaux's 1397 journey to the Purgatory.

James Stephens, 1882-1950

Illustrated handbook of the scenery and antiquities of Southwestern Donegal ... / [by Monsignor James Stephens] ; with notes of the road for tourists to the wild, pp. 93-7

McGlashan and Gill, Dublin

1872

Digitised by Google, sponsored by New York Public Library, archived on Hathi Trust digital library

Public domain

Handbook

English

Illustrated handbook

DD_0470

54.6083, -7.8714

Yes, and whilst the injunction remains, ‘unless you do penance, you will all likewise perish,’ Lough Derg, and these other holy shrines, shut out from the busy world, will always be made the resort of the pilgrim. Connected with the pilgrimage of Raymond, the Count de Perilleaux, to Lough Derg, there is a terrible tragedy recorded, where we find him murdered at the very altar in his cell whilst per forming his devotions :

By flood and field, by wood and fell,
In desert wild, or hermit's cell,
In camp or court, in hall or bower,
At day's broad noon, or midnight hour,
On mountain top, or flow'ry lea,
Or where in prayer he bends the knee ;
Aye, even before the holy shrine,
I'll claim him there, his blood is mine

The tradition goes on to say : — " It was a beautiful evening in the autumn of 1397, and the flood of rich yellow light from the setting, sun bathed the wooded shores of Lough Derg, tipping with gold the waves on its surface. At this time the naked hills which now surround the lake were covered with majestic woods of oak and beech, and fringed with a thick copse of brushwood to the water's edge.

"The little island on which was situated St. Patrick's Purgatory, lay about a mile from the shore, resembling some dark spot in the midst of flowing silver .

"The ferryman was reposing on a grassy knoll at the verge of the lake, waiting to ferry over the pilgrims as they made their appearance. While he thus lay, with his breadth (cap or bonnet) thrown over his eyes, to keep off the rays of the sun, a pilgrim, toiled and travel-stained, arrived at the bank, and stood beside the unconscious ferryman. He was a fine tall young fellow, clad in the usual garb of a religious wanderer of the period. His face was thin and pale, but full of life and animation. He was clad in the humble garments of a palmer, yet his mien and motion were those of one used to associate with the proud and noble. After a little the pilgrim pointed with his staff towards the island, as if indicating a wish to be ferryed over. On which the ferryman directed his attention to the setting sun, as an intimation that the hour had passed, and then pointed to the cottage at the end of the wood, plainly intimating to the pilgrim that he should be content with a share of the shelter and hospitality of his humble roof till morning.

"The stranger bowed in thankfulness, laying the forefinger of his right hand impressively on his lips, and raising the other towards the blue vault of heaven. He then crossed both with an expressive gesture on his breast, and hung down his head in silence.

" ' Ay, ay!' uttered the boatman in an undertone ; ' a vow to hold his peace, some terrible crime to be atoned for by the severity of the penance ; and in one so young, too.' And with a glance upwards of astonishment and thankfulness to heaven, he led the way to his cabin. The evening sun had gone down behind the western hills, and the gloom of coming night was darkening the deep brown woods. The song of the robin and the thrush was hushed, and the pilgrim was seated beside the cheerful hearth of the ferryman, silent and motionless, and wrapt up in the shadowy stillness of profound meditation.

" On a sudden, however, the ferryman was startled on hearing the notes of a bugle-horn, which came pealing from the woods. He started to his feet, for such sounds were seldom heard on the peaceful shores of the Lake of Penance; and on going out he observed a train of horsemen issuing from the woods.
" The person who rode in front, and who appeared to be the chief, was mounted on a beautiful charger of the true Arabian breed. He was dressed in black. A mantle of velvet, lined with silk, depended from his shoulders, under which he wore a doublet of fine cloth, braided with twisted cords of silk, and fitting closely to the body. He also wore a broad-brimmed hat, from which drooped a solitary black feather, shadowing features proud, stern, and repulsive in their expression. The rest of the attendants were clad in much the same fashion, except a few, who were fully equipped and armed. They appeared as if after a long journey. They were evidently men from a foreign land, for they used much gesture, and spoke in a strange tongue. Tents were immediately pitched on the shores of the lake, and fires lighted, and a hurry and bustle continued among the strangers till a late hour, and a strict guard was placed on the pavilion of him who appeared to be their chief.

" Shortly after the noble chieftain embarked for the island, and without an attendant; on reaching which he hurried for the cell at which Raymond de Perilleaux was making his devotions. He advanced with a rapid and quick movement, till he came within a few feet of the holy shrine, at which he found him. He then called out in a loud exclamation : —

“We have met here alone, and face to face at last, Raymond, Count of Perilleaux! can you pray to Heaven? you with the blood of innocence crying to that Heaven for vengeance against you. Can you ask for pardon, or hope for mercy, whose heart was closed against the pleading of the virtuous and the innocent? can you hope for peace, while my vow of revenge is unpaid? and the dagger yet unstained with thy blood? Raymond of Perilleaux, know you not that while I lived, my life was devoted to your destruction, now, say your last prayer," drawing his blood stained dagger —

"'Mercy! mercy! Ugolino’ uttered Raymond in a trembling and distressed voice. It was all soon over, he raised up the dagger, and buried it to the very hilt in the heart of the wretched count.
"The murdered victim never groaned, his lips were seen to move in prayer, he staggered forward a few paces, and fell heavily against the steps of the little altar where he expired."

iv, [3]-128 p., [10] leaves of plates : ill. ; 19 cm