New book sheds some light on the dark side of Kilkenny

Throughout human history, and across all cultures and creeds, few crimes evoke as profound a sense of horror and condemnation as murder.

The act of taking another person’s life is seen as an affront to our shared sense of empathy, justice, and societal order.

On a recent visit to a bookshop in Kilkenny, local author and historian Donal Cadogan asked the staff about what sells well.

“True crime,” he was told. “People like to find out about murders.”

Looking around him, Cadogan examined the volumes of true crime books adorning the shelves, but couldn’t find any that focused specifically on Kilkenny.

A seed was planted that day, and Cadogan set off researching the darker side of the county’s storied past.

What resulted is his latest book: Kilkenny’s Deadly Years (Murder, Trials and Executions in Kilkenny 1823-1923).

An absolutely fascinating read, the book reveals a lot about the society, culture, politics and beliefs of Kilkenny during the period.

The chapters run in chronological order, and the first chapter is actually set in 1778, contrary to the book’s extended title, but certainly to its benefit.

It tells the story of an illicit relationship, treachery and scandal.

I will not spoil the story by going into too much detail, but the ultimate price is paid by a family man in a most cunning and devious way.

The next story is set in 1824, just one year after Daniel O'Connell established the Catholic Association to campaign for Catholic emancipation and equal rights.

Like many stories in the book, it illuminates the nuances of social politics at the time.

It tells of the murder of John Marum, ‘a hated man’ in Galmoy who ‘had been living under a threat of death for many years’.

Coincidentally, Marum was actually a Catholic landlord, and despite being a bigoted hater of Protestants, was equally comfortable profiting from his Catholic tenants.

As figures such as O’Connell were campaigning for more rights for Catholics, secret societies such as the Whiteboys and the Ribbonmen were taking matters into their own hands, violently.

The author uses this story to explore two features of society at this time that are often overlooked - informers and the intimidation of witnesses.

Six men would ultimately pay with their lives for the murder of John Marum, and they are remembered to this day with a monument that was erected in 1999 near Knockshinraw that declares that their ‘claims of innocence went unheeded’.

The fact that we, as local people, can visit the sites of where this history happened makes the book all the more fascinating.

I could recount numerous other stories in this publication, and I would be ever-willing to, but I would only be doing them an injustice.

I will say though, of all the stories, there is one in particular that stuck with me more than the others.

Set in 1856, it tells the tragic story of a sickly young boy, Pat Kearns, who met his end soon after his parents came to the conclusion that their child was being taken from them by fairies.

They were told that unless immediate action was taken, all that remained of their son would soon disappear, while the incubus of a ‘fairy child’ would replace him and remain with them for all of their lives.

Despite trying a number of herbal remedies and performing rituals recommended to them, the boy’s condition was not changing.

A conclusion was then reached - the fairy would have to be beaten out of him.

Perhaps needless to say, this story ends in the most tragic way, and illustrates just how powerful an influence folklore was over many local people during the period.

In writing this review, I’ve skipped over many more stories, but each and every one of the 34 recounted are worth reading in their own right.

Not least those of Mary Maher (Ireland’s youngest recorded serial killer), Edmund Hart (who murdered his mother and then proceeded to dine on her flesh) and Michael Walsh (who walked free on the day he was set to be executed).

Immense credit must be given to Donal Cadogan for his triumph in turning all of the primary sources he accessed into such compelling prose.

When you pick up this book you’ll learn a lot more about the history of Kilkenny, that’s a given, but you’ll also be further illuminated on the darkest aspects of human nature.

The bookshop agent certainly wasn’t telling fibs when they told Cadogan that people like to find out about murders.

In saying that, you now won’t find a better compilation of local tales on the topic than in Cadogan’s own ‘Kilkenny’s Deadly Years’, available now in Kilkenny bookshops.