I was first introduced to Detective Sergeant Cecil Cawley in the snug in Bowes 21 years ago. "Dunne", he said. "Ah yes, the sheep stealers". Announcing himself to be a bit of an amateur historian, D/S Cawley told me the Dunnes are descended from 50 of our clan who hid in the Slieve Bloom mountains after we had been proscribed by Queen Elizabeth I. She ordered Lord Mountjoy, on his way back from another engagement in Kinsale, to kill all the Dunnes in Co Laois, since our sheep stealing activities were on a scale to bother her loyal subjects in what was known as the Queen's County.
By and large, I was quite pleased with D/S Cawley's information. It wasn't that wonderful to be descended from sheep stealers, but at least we were successful sheep stealers, to the point of coming to the attention of the Queen of England.
Some time afterwards, an American Dunne cousin came to visit. Like most Americans, she was intensely interested in learning about where she came from. "Actually, it appears we're descended from sheep stealers", I said casually. She was aghast. She had married a Greek American who took unseemly pleasure in this revelation. People have accused the Greeks of doing unspeakable things to sheep, he said, and it was good to know that his wife's ancestors did not have an unblemished record in that area.
Racy Background
Now, sadly, a book on the Dunnes has been published which makes no reference whatever to this racy background. Instead, we are described by the author, Mr Joe Dunne, as the most distinguished family in the Duthaidh Riagain of Laois. We established a reputation as great fighters and were among the few Leinster chieftains who did not submit to King Henry II when he arrived in Waterford with a large army in October 1171.
A 14th century poem speaks of:
Over Ui Riagain of heavy routs
A vigorous tribe who conquer in battle
Is O Duinn, chief of demolition
Hero of the golden battle spears.
(President Mobutu, eat your heart out.)
Alas, this exemplary resistance to the invader was undermined by commercial considerations. One of the Dunne chieftains, faced with a choice of converting to Protestantism or losing his lands, chose to convert on the grounds that it was easier to re convert to Catholicism than to regain his lands once lost.
New Allegiance
General Edward Dunne took to his new allegiance with considerable enthusiasm. On May 29th 1798, approximately 325 United Irishmen were slaughtered on the Gibbet Rath on The Curragh by horsemen including the Black Horse under the command of General Dunne.
Colonel Edward was in charge of the garrison of Dublin during the insurrection of Robert Emmet. He was later promoted to general. He was known in Laois as "Shun Battle Ned" because of a rumour that he refused to go to Waterloo in 1815. It seems to me to have been an eminently sensible decision, though he may have faced a court martial afterwards.
Major General Francis Plunkett had a sort of Tallaght Strategy long before Alan Dukes thought of it. The Leinster Express reported that when he ran for office in the Houses of Parliament as the member for Portarlington, he resolutely refused to attack his political opponents. (Not surprisingly, he lost his seat in 1857).
Contribution to Religion
Rather too much of the Dunnes' contribution to religion pervades the book. Mother Amadeus Dunne, foundress of the Ursuline Missions of Montana and Alaska, gets two pages and a picture. Dom Frederic Dunne the first American Cistercian abbot (1935), gets a page and a picture. Mr Ben Dunne, of whom even non Dunnes might have liked to read more, gets a solitary mention.
Needless to say, the notorious Dunne criminal gang in Dublin is passed over in silence. I wonder, in passing, if they turned to their life of crime after having been told by D/S Cawley that they were descended from sheep stealers in Offaly?
There is one journalist Dunne. Finley Peter Dunne was editor of the Chicago Journal from 1887 to 1900. He became famous, the book tells us, as an "exponent of Irish American humorous satire". Unwisely, the author offers us "some examples of his wit". One will suffice. On Irishmen's reluctance to marry: "Dacey th'plumber, who'd niver'v married if he hadn't got into th'wrong build in' whin he wint to take out a licence fr his dog an' got a marridge licence instid."
D/S Cawley was once introduced to a friend of mine called Dempsey, also as it happens in the snug in Bowes. "Ah", he said, "Dempsey, the traitors." Now let some Dempsey write a book to set that record straight.