Conor Murray, 125 years later, was tasked with a similarly sudden and surprising elevation last weekend, when quietly taken aside by Warren Gatland before the squad’s departure south.

Although he will represent the same storied team and arrived this week on the same soil as those pioneers of yore, he occupies a vastly different world, one shrunken by easy travel and remarkable communications.

Paid professionals, they will have slept on flat beds in first-class planes before being whisked to five-star hotels, their every whim catered for.

In the 19th century, tours took several months and just getting to one’s destination took several weeks by sea and land for the collection of gentlemen footballers. Often, they would go hungry.

The story goes that in the Boer War, Crean momentarily thought he had suffered a fatal wound in an attack before launching a counter-offensive bayonet charge.

His Lions, who won the series 3-1, had an easier time of it, aside from one tour game, a 0-0 draw, when his pre-match advice that they should drink no more than four tumblers of champagne was misinterpreted by some of his men. Crean is not officially recognised as one of the now 12 Irish touring captains but, to our minds, he should be.

And, though so much has changed in those 125 years, Murray will share the same ambition as his ground-breaking compatriot, to lead his squad to the ultimate sporting glory and join a select band of winning Irish captains.

From the greatest of them all, Willie John McBride’s leadership of the 1974 “Invincibles”, to the most recent ill-fated expedition of Peter O’Mahony, ignominiously dropped after leading his side to a first Test loss in New Zealand, history beckons in some shape or another for the Limerick man on his third tour of duty.

For him, the potential for posterity or peril lies in wait. Where the winning of a series may immortalise him in Lions folklore. But also, one hesitates to say, the losing of one too.

The first two official Irish captains also toured South Africa and, though both Tom Smyth (1910) and Sam Walker (1938) didn’t oversee triumphs, their leadership was much admired.

All three Lions tours of the ’50s were led by Irishmen: 1948 Grand Slam captain Karl Mullen in 1950, a reserved sort whose side lost to New Zealand but defeated Australia.

In 1955, Robin Thompson’s ascension was the first by an Irishman to be queried – England’s Don White appeared hard done by – but, even if a better player than captain, the 24-year-old lock’s energy and enthusiasm was vital in the 2-2 draw against the Boks in a superb tour.

The erudite hooker Ronnie Dawson, noted as a keen analyst, clinched a series win in Australia as the decade closed, though victory in New Zealand remained beyond the Lions.

“Ronnie did a superb job but you can’t expect one man to be bag man, captain, coach, after-dinner speaker and press officer,” Syd Millar said in the official ‘Behind the Lions’ historical tome.

His authority wasn’t absolute, nor absolutely adhered to; having told Terry Davies to kick for touch late on with his side leading 8-3, the Welshman opted to kick at goal; he missed and the All Blacks clinched the match and series lead through Don Clarke’s late try and conversion.

Tom Kiernan led the side to South Africa in 1968; a storied icon of Irish rugby, he would never win a Test match with the Lions but finished as top points scorer for the physically outmatched side.

Willie John McBride emerged on that stint as a hugely influential figure and, in 1974, he would copper-fasten that status by leading the “Invincibles” in the greatest tour of them all.

His fifth tour matched the 4-0 success enjoyed by Crean all those years before.

Not unlike 2021, this was also a journey loaded with foreboding which, akin to this era’s pandemic, was backdropped by compromising issues of morality, in this instance apartheid.

Despite doubts as to whether they should tour at all, when they returned to a once doubting government’s acclaim, they did so as sporting heroes. Victory, as always, skews all narrative.

It was no coincidence that another gilded Lion, Syd Millar, was McBride’s coach and the partnership which bloomed domestically now flourished.

The tour has been mythologised by the infamous ‘99’ call, an invitation to violent response to Bok aggression but legend has embellished this, like so many strands of history.

Fran Cotton’s encomium in ‘Behind the Lions’ sums up the greatest captain of them all: “He knew when to work and knuckle down and when to play.”

Murray’s Lions will not enjoy such a social outlet during Covid restrictions so maintaining that lifestyle balance will be devilishly difficult for Murray to forge.

Nine years later, Ciarán Fitzgerald, who had actually won silverware as an Irish captain, led a weak squad to New Zealand and his appointment was tainted by English indifference and, occasionally, hostility. A humbling 4-0 defeat seemed inevitable.

Now manager, McBride always felt that another huge personality, coach Jim Telfer, had suffocated the Connacht hooker on a miserable tour, whose presence repelled many who felt Peter Wheeler should not only have played, but captained, too.

Telfer’s Scottish colleague, Colin Deans, was also favoured by others and the squad split on predictable national lines, always a danger on discordant tours; Murray will know that only by being united can his men seize strength.

Surviving mentally is one thing; physically, quite another.

Brian O’Driscoll’s experience in 2005, when he was violently scratched within seconds of the opening first Test whistle by Kevin Mealamu and Tana Umaga, signposted that summer’s melancholy blackwash.

The subsequent fallout had led O’Driscoll to reflect that, although the victim, he might change his own personal response to the incident, which soon became submerged by the circus spinning of Alastair Campbell et al.

“Staying on was the biggest mistake of my life,” he said of a position that had represented the biggest honour of his life.

Four years later, the Lions had learned from their gargantuan 2005 folly and restored traditional values; under Paul O’Connell, much of the squad expressed the feeling that it was a far more enjoyable trek, even though the series was again lost.

For him, the responsibility was personally onerous – there had also been predictable criticism from England – even though Declan Kidney had told him to remain, as Murray has been counselled, true to himself.

Last time out, O’Mahony suffered the ignominy of being the fall guy for a re-adjusted game plan after defeat in the first Test and was ejected from the squad thereafter, with Gatland revealing he was less vocal than he expected.

A reminder that Murray must not only focus on his captaincy style, but on how his performances must complement the side, even amidst all the ancillary pressures surrounding his role. Captaincy does not guarantee selection.

There may, of course, be another Irish captain, as the non-Test squad will require a leader; though it may be unwise for Gatland to choose another from these shores.

It is a dubious honour; Donal Lenihan led the most famous midweek side – “Donal’s Donuts”, but confirmation that it virtually eliminates you from Test selection is a bitter pill.

Ronan O’Gara did manage to bench in 2009 after doing so; Donncha O’Callaghan was not so lucky that same year, so too Fergus Slattery (twice in ‘74), while Rory Best has managed the unique feat of doing so twice, but on successive tours.

From feeling his confidence was shattered in 2013, when he lost, he returned home with his head held high in 2013, when he won. It is all about winning.

Lessons from history will shadow Murray, and they could threaten to overwhelm him too. He must remain author of his own destiny.

“I have the utmost respect for all of them,” he says of his predecessors, “but it goes back to not changing what you do or who you are. It’s really important you remain true to yourself.

“When you’re back in your room and have a quiet moment, you might drift off and think what it would be like to win a series. And that’s the goal.”

Jamie George revealed this week that he was the first player to see Murray after Warren Gatland’s surprise call and the shock on Murray’s face revealed both the promise and the perils of the role, as past and present glories and failures swam around his head.

All that matters now is the future. “It’s a clean sheet so now it’s about the way I do it.”

Although surrounded by many now, Conor Murray will soon stand alone in either triumph or despair. History’s hand is on his shoulders now.