Kindle Edition
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Hellhounds and Hero Horses: Beasts of Myth and Legend
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Category:
Natural History
Publisher: Legendary Books
Type: Non-Fiction
Pages: 353
Copyright: 8 April 2020
Price: $5.99 (eBook)
245 stories from around the world
Urcos, púcas, the Simurgh, shape-shifters and shape-changers, the Moddey Dhoo, Black Shuck, speaking equine advisors, Bucephalus, Buraq, Babieca, the Phantom White Stallion of Skull Valley, demon cats, the Peruvian Chullachaqui and the Chilean Tue-Tue, fish-people, Laelaps, the Hedley Kow, kelpies, Irish rat-charmers, and many other tales to make you smile or shiver or simply marvel at the ultranatural activities of supposedly irrational animals as reported by presumably rational humans. Illustrated by 17 photos and drawings.
Excerpt
The Hanging Judge and the Black Dog
Ireland
John Toler (1745-1831) was Solicitor-General then Attorney General in charge of prosecuting rebels – or suspected rebels – after the 1798 Rebellion. When he was appointed Lord Chief Justice in 1800 as Lord Norbury, the Lord Chancellor was prompted to say, “For God’s sake make him a bishop or even an archbishop, but not a Chief Justice.” His contemporary, Daniel O’Connell, the leading advocate of his time, said, “He did not understand, nor was he capable of understanding, a single principle of law.” A modern historian has described him as “one of the most black-hearted and sadistic scoundrels who ever wore scarlet and ermine” (Hale). Even The Dictionary of National Biography saw fit to comment: “His indifference to human suffering … disgusted even those who thought the occasion called for firmness on the part of government.” A modern account echoes contemporary opinion: “His knowledge of law was negligible and his style of administration was ludicrous.” (Lysaght)
So it is not surprising that Lord Norbury, labelled The Hanging Judge, turns up in local legends. A Brendan Behan short story alerted me to one of them. A man is hired to collect and deliver a coffin. Between the collection and the delivery, he comes to a pub and decides to stop for refreshment. Several drinks later, he emerges to find his cart empty. The coffin: “And where was it, only gone, like Lord Norbury with the devil.” This is the tale behind that expression.
Lord Norbury owned a town house at Number 3 Great Denmark Street near Dublin’s city centre. His country home was a few miles away in Cabra. One night, he called on his coach driver to take him from town to Cabra. When the coach arrived in Cabra, the driver opened the door for his passenger, only to find the coach empty. He said later that about halfway through the journey the coach seemed unusually light, and he concluded that the devil had snatched Lord Norbury en route.
Norbury wrongfully convicted a man for sheep-stealing, and the victim’s widow on her deathbed cursed the judge that he would never have a peaceful night’s sleep. A widow’s curse is matched only by that of a priest or a poet for effectiveness, and it is known that Norbury was an insomniac for the rest of his life.
It is still told in the Cabra area that Norbury in the form of a large black dog dragging a chain was seen near his house until it was demolished in 1939. A block of flats was built on the site in 2003 to commemorate Norbury’s hanging of Robert Emmet, leader of a failed revolt, in 1803.
Some say that the ghost of the Hanging Judge still prowls the neighbourhood.
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