The Kirwan Murder Case 1852

This book relates the story of the controversial trial, conviction and imprisonment of William Burke Kirwan, a Dublin artist, for the murder of his wife, Sarah, in 1852. His trial and the extensive and divisive social commentary it provoked provide a representation of the strata of society to which he belonged, the Protestant middle class of the mid-nineteenth century, allowing an examination of many of the attitudes and values that they subscribed to.

A tragic death, a murder trial and a 170-year-old mystery – but what really happened? Shortly after Maria Kirwan died in a lonely inlet on Ireland's Eye, it was decided that she had drowned accidentally during a day spent with her husband on the picturesque island. This inquest verdict appeared to conclude the melancholy events that consumed the fishing village of Howth, Co Dublin, in September 1852. But not long afterwards, suspicion fell upon Maria's husband, William Burke Kirwan, as whispers of unspeakable cruelty, an evil character and a secret life rattled through the streets of Dublin. Investigations led to William's arrest and trial for murder. The story swelled into one of the most bitterly divisive chapters in the dark annals of Irish criminal history. Yet questions remain: Does the evidence stand up? What role did the heavy hand of Victorian moral outrage play? Was William really guilty of murder, or did the ever-present 'moral facts' fill in gaps where hard proof was absent? Now, this compelling modern analysis revisits the key evidence, asking sober questions about the facts, half-facts and fantasies buried within the yellowed pages of the Ireland's Eye case files.

This book examines the relationship between Britain and Ireland, specifically the central role played by print and broadcast media in communicating political, cultural, and social differences and similarities between the two islands. The relationship between Ireland and Great Britain has a long and complex history. Given their geographical proximity and shared language one key dimension of this relationship has been the communication media – print and electronic – that have mediated this relationship. This book addresses this important, but relatively neglected, topic at a critical time in Anglo-Irish relations. Taking the long view, as well as looking in detail at specific episodes, the contributors map British-Irish interactions in print and broadcast media. This volume assesses the proprietorial and journalistic connections between various media institutions, the conditions under which media organisations operated and distribution channels employed. It considers media influences in terms of the role of media organs in constructing national identity and promoting social change. Furthermore, this book also considers news flows between the two islands, censorship in times of conflict, cross-border influences of television, and the relationship between cinema and television. The chapters in this book were originally published as a special issue of the journal Media History.

On a fine calm morning in September 1852, a strikingly handsome man and his beautiful wife stepped onto a hired boat in Howth Harbour, Dublin, to set out on a day trip. The destination was Ireland’s Eye, a small uninhabited island less than a mile to the north of the harbour. He was an artist, she a keen and adventurous swimmer. By sunset, when the boat returned to fetch them, she would be dead. Despite certain gruesome features, the inquest ruled that it was a drowning, and Maria Kirwan was laid to rest. Then a startling secret emerged about the private life of her husband, the artist William Burke Kirwan. After an exhumation, he was arrested for her murder. The case caused a sensation, the public fascinated by its extraordinary elements. Added to this and almost eclipsing the murder was the scandal: a sexual triangle that aroused the full force of Victorian moral outrage. The trial was destined to become steeped in controversy and a veil of mystery has hung over the death of Maria Kirwan for the last 160 years. But now, at last, a forgotten medical paper has thrown light on what really happened on that fateful day.

Craftsman or copyist? Genius or journeyman? Artist or artisan? Of these, what was Conan Doyle? Does anyone take Conan Doyle seriously? Who can explain the phenomenon which makes Sherlock Holmes the instantly recognizable stock figure, probably the only such stereotype and standby in late Victorian and early twentieth-century fiction? Small fanatic groups rally to the cause of other fictional heroes from Tarzan to James Bond - and scores of forgettable detectives moulder in forgettable detective stories, while durable dated Holmes, whose career is now a century old (and he himself better than a century and a quarter according to his supporters) is as crisply readable and as much read as ever. If this is not literature, it is certainly durable craftsmanship, such that while Conan Doyle's other works fade into that greyness explored only by the occasional match-striking literature student, new editions of Sherlock Holmes, and Holmeses who never knew Conan Doyle, roll steadily from the presses. Such durability demands explanation.