A Frenchman's Walk in Ireland by The Chevalier De Latocnaye

CHAPTER XV - Drogheda-Battle of the Boyne-Slane-Return to Dublin

To be in the middle of such disorder was very disagreeable to me, and I saw myself, with great pleasure, on the other side of the mountains. If I presented myself to a man in favour of the policy of the Government, the name of Frenchman was to him suspect; if I went to one of contrary opinions, he did not know, at first, on what footing to receive me, and when he had seen my passports he did me the honour to believe me an agent of the Government sent to inquire into the conduct of the discontented, and to terrify them afterwards. A certain man with whom I talked on the way gave me in a very confidential manner his opinions on Union, whereupon I advised him for his good to be very careful as to whom he talked before opening his mind in this way. I saw his eyes sparkle, and had I not quickly, by way of changing subject, called his attention to my umbrella invention, there might have been an unpleasant union of his cudgel and my ears. As it was, disunion was effected promptly, for he cleared off.
Dundalk is a rather good-looking little town situated in a charming plain on the margin of the sea, and near the foot of the Newry mountains. It was fair day, and patrols were in the market-place, but there did not seem to be much uneasiness. The idea that the farther I should get away from the country I had just travelled the less should I find of that air, terrified on one side, defiant on the other, made me set out immediately. I passed by Castlebellingham and did not stop until I came to Dunleer—twenty-five Irish miles—not a bad day's walk. Nothing special happened on the way; I went too quick for investigations, and really did not wish to investigate closely.
I remarked at Dunleer that it was not linen which was being bleached, but yarn. The cloth is not so white as what has passed through the mills in the north, but it ought to be more durable, for the beetling in the mills is very severe.
The inn where I put up was really good, nevertheless a big Englishman there was disgusted, and could find nothing to his taste. He stormed and swore and longed for the roast beef and plum pudding of Old England. His conduct made me think of a certain story well known in the island of St. Patrick, and which does honour to the subtle wit of one of its children.<49>
In spite of the rain I went on to Drogheda, and amongst the arid mountains which separate this town from Dunleer saw, at some distance, a round tower, which seemed to be very high and very well preserved. By the wayside a good, benevolent soul had placed the inscription 'THIS IS A SPRING OF WATER' over a well. The words are in large characters, and on a pole carrying a board just like the finger-posts at the partings of roads. If it had been a spring of whiskey, it would have been more uncommon I thought, and certainly more frequented.
Drogheda was formerly a place of great strength. At present it seems to have a fairly good trade. Its situation is most agreeable. I should certainly have stayed here for some time had the persons for whom I had letters of introduction been at home. As, unfortunately, they were absent, and I am not gifted, like my brethren the professional travellers, with the art of talking to stone walls, I thought it well to decamp.
I went up the Boyne which passes through the town.
As is well known, it was on the banks of this river that were finally determined the fortunes of King James. His partisans accuse him of losing this battle through the same weakness which cost him his throne—he ran away long before the issue was decided. Some days after his flight his generals gave battle for the second time, and succeeded in effecting a retreat to Limerick. It was with a sad kind of pleasure that I trod this soil, witness of such high deeds a century ago. A peasant pointed out to me the position occupied by the two armies, the place on a height from which King James watched the progress of events, and the place where King William crossed the river at the head of his troops and routed the opposing forces. An inspection of the ground makes it difficult to conceive how King James' army could have been forced to fight, and still less how its retreat could have been cut off. It is an indubitable fact that on its side were all the advantages of numbers and position. A high obelisk has been erected at a short distance from the spot where King Wiliiam crossed the river and where his general Marshal Schomberg was shot. It is situated on a rock which juts out into the river—the pedestal covered with inscriptions in English and Latin.
Whatever the issue, an obelisk on this spot was inevitable. Had King James won, what high-flown words in his honour would have been here for the traveller to read!
Success decides all; justifies all. A hundred years hence, if the republic maintains itself, monarchy will be abhorred by everybody. If, on the contrary, royalty is restored, the abhorrence will be of republicanism.
The peasant who showed me the different places in a routine way had not the least idea of the story of the battle. 'Why was this obelisk erected? 'I asked. 'Oh,' he replied, 'that's the place where the man was killed.' 'What man? 'I queried, and his reply was 'Why, to be sure, King William.'
Voltaire records an original epigram current in Paris on the subject of the piety of King James when he was at St. Germain. Here it is as I remember it, but it is eight years since I read it:
Quand je veux rimer à Guillaume,
Je trouve qu'il a conquis un royaume
Qu'il a su soumettre a ses lois.
Mais quand je veux rimer a Jacques,
J'ai beau rêver et me tordre les doigts,
Je trouve qu'il a fait ses Pâques.<50>
Leaving, at last, these places so famous in the history of Great Britain, and continuing my walk through the fertile valley of the Boyne, I arrived at Slane. To leave the sea coasts is to find oneself, immediately, among a people differing from those who inhabit them. It was not without pleasure that I found again the extraordinary customs and the singular monuments which had excited my interest and curiosity in the south and west of Ireland.
I met a funeral. It was preceded by a child carrying a white rod decorated with paper cuttings, and followed by a number of wailing women. The procedure, however, was not exactly like that of the South. More order was observed; the women paused in their cries, at intervals, and did not beat their breasts or tear their hair. The cries too were not the same, and instead of the pi lu lu or hu lu lu of the south, the sounds were more like Presbyterian psalm-singing.
I could distinguish Oh, Ah, Oh, Ah, Oh, Ah, and then followed an interval of silence as long as the time required to sing the melancholy notes, which at a little distance were not unmelodious. The cut papers carried by the child are placed at the head of the grave, with a handful of osiers, and if one of these take root I imagine that it is looked upon as a happy omen, for the tree is allowed to grow.
The town of Slane was built by Mr. Burton Conyngham. He had a park, and a superb house on the smiling banks of the Boyne. Here I was received by Lord and Lady Conyngham with the most kindly hospitality. My first act after arrival was to go and pay a solitary visit to the tomb of the honoured and honourable man who had befriended me, and whose loss to Ireland cannot easily be repaired.
On the summit of a hill near the little town there are extensive ruins of what was, anciently, a college.
From the top of the bell-tower, still in a tolerable state of preservation, is to be had an extensive view over the field of the Battle of the Boyne, and in sight are two of those round towers of which I have had so often occasion to speak. Near the seminary there is a rath or Danish fort with very high breastworks. I imagine that, on the south side, there has been a little Druids' altar, for two of the side supports are still standing, and the principal stone now covers a vault inside the ruins of the church. It is in this neighbourhood, at Newgrange, that is to be found the most extraordinary remains of the constructions of these ancient priests.<51>
But I wander too often, carried away by interest in a subject about which, in commencing my journey, I had not a single idea. It is time to get back to my journey and wind up its story.
* * * * * *
The Boyne is a charming river. It is well supplied with fish—the salmon are caught in basket boats such as are used at Carmarthen in Wales. Coming back from the monument I have been describing, I saw a fisherman who, seeing a storm approaching, landed and turned his boat over his head as an umbrella. In partnership with three others, Mr. Burton Conyngham had built on the river bank an immense flour-mill, which supplies the needs of Drogheda.
Inside the park of Slane is a fountain round which the inhabitants perform their devotions. Although the well has been filled up, and water is not to be seen within a considerable distance from it, the poor folk still come and go through their performances on their bare knees, circling the space where once was the well and hanging rags on a neighbouring tree afterwards. On the height, near the remains of the ancient college or seminary, is another well, its virtuous quality being the removal of the curse of sterility. The women here, it seems to me, have no need to use its waters. It is dedicated to St. Patrick, and this great saint, to whom the Irish owe so much, still assures to those who render homage here a numerous posterity. It is stated, however, that the well has lost credit to some extent in modern times. It would really appear that it was more efficacious before the destruction of the college.
I remarked that some of the children of the neighbourhood wore round their necks little linen bags hanging by woollen thread. A good countrywoman explained to me that these are Gospels, given by the priest of the parish for the prevention of many evils. There are countries where the priests excite the people to superstitious practices—there is one, evidently, where the people oblige the priest to lend himself to such doings.
I continued to follow the smiling banks of the Boyne, and saw, near Slane, a pillar of stone carved with strange figures and some Irish characters which I could not read or have explained to me, for here it is difficult to find an English-speaking person when the workers are at their employ. A mile from Navan I saw, at Donaghmore, the round tower I had seen from the heights near Slane; this one has something about it which makes it appear that it has been built since the introduction of Christianity. On the keystone of the doorway, here, as in others, fifteen or twenty feet above the level of the soil, is carved a crucifix, but I have been told since that the date of placing this stone on the curve is very well known. It is generally believed that these round towers existed long before the Christian era; their use is differently interpreted by antiquaries, some holding that they were the receptacles of the sacred fire, others that they were the abodes of hermits living in far retirement from worldly things, and the story of St. Simeon Stylites owes its origin to the fact that he lived in one of these towers. I have no carefully thought-out theory on the subject; I would observe, only, that among the peoples of the Levant there have been, from time immemorial, round towers, called minarets, near temples, mosques, and churches, and other large buildings, and that at the hour of prayer a Dervish mounts to the top of one such, and by instrument of some kind, or by voice, calls the people to their duty. I shall not be far wrong, I think, if I hazard the guess that the use of these was similar, let the time of their building be what it may.
The only difficulty persons may have in accepting my theory is, that the windows near the top are very small—the tower of Swords, near Dublin, is the only one I have seen with large windows at top, opening to the four points of the compass. It would seem that its construction is different from that of others, for its door is at the earth-level, and looking into the interior one can see holes cut in the wall, evidently with the intention that beams should be placed in them.
In the cemetery, in front of the stone on which is carved the crucifix, is a large boulder on which the people of the country have knelt so often that it is worn hollow. On a neighbouring tomb I saw the inscription:
'Here lies O'Connor who was gathered here at the age of 104 years.' 'Gathered' I thought rather good.
Navan is an entirely Irish town, and although that does not mean that it is either beautiful or clean, I must say that I like it better than many others. I wish the tastes and customs of the country could prevail in its buildings and other matters. Let them be bettered, certainly, but don't destroy to replace them. I believe sincerely that the course I indicate would be the best and shortest way to improvement, but here England is thought of in everything, and for everything, and I do not think this to be for good.
By means of a canal it is intended to carry the navigation of the Boyne to Trim, and afterwards to the Grand Canal of Ireland, which will cross the country from Dublin to Limerick.
Returning to the Boyne, I trod its picturesque banks for three or four miles to reach a bridge, by which I crossed to take the Dublin road. Indolence is figured for us in many ways—lying on a flower-covered bed for one example. I saw here, below the bridge, a sight which might have served as an entirely novel and hitherto unthought-of model. It was a worthy Irishman who had brought his horse, harnessed to a car, to the water, and who, while the animal drank, had fallen asleep. The poor beast having finished, and hearing no word from his master, rested tranquil and motionless in the middle of the river.
At a little distance I saw an immense rath called Rathlema —the only one I have seen of such size; it covered a considerable stretch of land, certainly the circumference of the circle must have measured a full mile.<52> Certain worthy folk told me that, here, in ancient times, was the dwelling-place of the King. It is not far from the castle of Fingal, near which the inhabitants, it is stated, belong to the ancient Irish race.
Not feeling very much fatigued at nine miles distance from Dublin, I thought of going farther, and inquired if there were any inn on the road. I was told 'Yes—at Clooney.' 'Clooney,' I said to myself, and certain remembrances made me accept the name as one of good augury, and I proceeded. But, alas! Clooney no longer existed, I found only a most miserable village. I went farther and found nothing—it seemed as if I should have to finish my journey just as I had commenced it, and pass the night in a cabin. I was not more than four miles from Dublin, but it was already eleven o'clock at night, and the remembrances of the martial strictness I had observed in the north made me fear an encounter with road patrols, which might prove rather disagreeable. The knowledge, too, which I had of the frightful number of mendicants in the capital was not reassuring, and I knew that I should hardly reach my destination before one o'clock, and then only to find all the inns closed, with the prospect of spending a night in the open. While I pondered, a chaise came along, travelling northward. I stopped it, bargained, and retraced my path.
Starting early next morning I made my way to the capital, crossing immense plains sparsely inhabited by a people who have absolutely no ordinary fuel, and are obliged for heat to burn the weeds they gather in the fields. I have seen a pot of potatoes boiling on a fire of hay.
Near ten o'clock I found myself in the pretty village of Finglas, and had just stepped into the shelter of a great door to avoid a rain-storm when a man came out of the house, pressed me to enter and to take breakfast. I do not believe that there is another town in Europe, especially among those of 300,000 inhabitants, where a traveller on foot could hope to experience a similar politeness.
I pushed on, and eastward, to Clontarf, to the field of the battle in which Brian Boru defeated the Danes on April 23, 1014. From here is a fine view of Dublin Bay and the Hill of Howth, which juts out into the sea, and has a certain resemblance to Gibraltar as we see it in picture. From here, too, the eye can follow the line of the immense embankment constructed to prevent accumulation of sand at the mouth of the river Liffey. Not far off is the charming park of Marino, and in it the temple built by Lord Charlemont, a gem of architecture in which I think the most critical eye will fail to discover any defects and negligences such as disfigure several of the public buildings of Dublin.<53>
And so I re-entered, from the north, this city from which a little more than a year earlier I had departed, travelling southwards. And there was this agreement of circumstance in my outgoing and incoming, that on the day of my arrival I was invited to dinner at the house I quitted on starting my journey, I took tea with the person I had seen on the eve of my departure, and was housed at night in exactly the same quarters which were mine at the beginning of my journey.
I shall think little of the fatigues of my journey if any expressed ideas of mine can be of service to the country of my exile; at same time one must think, at least a little, of personal matters, and unless the friend persuading and encouraging me to further travels of this kind will give me his word of honour not to die before the journey be completed, I shall not be found tramping the highways in like manner again.
The changes brought about by the critical state of circumstances seemed to me to be less marked in Ireland than in Great Britain. The inhabitants of standing had enrolled themselves as volunteers, and formed companies made up of members of various professions and trades. Thus, there were the Companies of Barristers and of Solicitors,<54> foot and horse, of Custom-House Officers,<55> of Merchants, of Students, &c., all of them commanded by principal men of their own calling. The students had for colonel one of their professors.
Among these companies were several which, on several accounts, must be considered as excellent. The cavalry especially, mounted on horses accustomed to the dangerous hunting of the country, deserve notice. More than once has the spectacle been presented of an entire squadron jumping hedges, ditches, and walls on the way to disperse gatherings. The formation of a Volunteer Corps here bore much resemblance to that of the émigrés at Coblenz. No one entered a company otherwise than by right of profession, that is to say, it was never attempted to increase the size of a company by drafting to it men not of the profession giving it a title. Society was therefore much less mixed than at Edinburgh, where the volunteers formed only a single corps. The city seemed to be perfectly peaceful, in spite of the severe measures which troubles in adjacent counties had obliged the authorities to take. Although Mr. Grattan and the other members of the Opposition exhibited much passion, and even left the House of Commons, their partisans were not nearly so hot-headed as those of Pitt and Fox. The opinions of persons in society seemed to approximate; one might have said, indeed, that the Ministerialists leaned to the Opposition side, and that the partisans of the Opposition favoured the Ministry. This rapprochement of opinion calmed passion—there was no such pronounced division as in Great Britain—and, consequently, the opposing parties treated each other with respect.
Charity sermons were still in fashion and produced large sums. There is perhaps no city which does more in the way of public charity than this, and as a consequence there is no city better supplied with beggars. The late troubles, and the continuation of the war, have left an immense number of poor workers without occupation—I have been assured that in the city of Dublin alone there are more than twenty thousand of them. A committee of well-known persons undertook the duty of distributing the funds collected for charity, and while the amount distributed reached a sum of about four hundred pounds per week, the number of applicants was so great that it was never possible to give more than fivepence at a time to any individual. Such a miserable pittance, however, was sufficient to attract to Dublin poor people from all parts of Ireland. The number of disgust-inspiring beggars seen daily is unimaginable.
Everybody speaks of the laziness of the common people in Ireland, but nobody tries to cure it. The charities, small though they may be, are sufficient to draw to the capital more miserable creatures than are to be found in the whole of the remainder of the kingdom—the great object of the administration ought to be to disperse them. It is not the need of the moment which should be considered, so much as the means by which recurring need can be prevented. Industry should be encouraged, not laziness.
The industrious class is certainly the one more worthy of public assistance. The spinners, for example, who, lately, have been selling their yarn for almost the price of the dressed flax out of which they spun it, deserve consideration, and should receive help in order to encourage them to continue at work. To sum up, although the almsgiving of Dublin is extremely creditable, and, in some part, necessary, I believe it would be better if it were spread over the country.
However, I must admit that it would be difficult to say too much in praise of the zeal and activity of the kind persons who have done their best for the suffering humanity of this city. The number of charitable institutions is inconceivable—it would take too much space to attempt to describe them. The one which, to me, seems best designed is that called the Sick Poor's Institution, to which anyone paying a guinea a year can send a poor sick person, who will receive medicine gratis, and visits at home from the doctor when these are necessary.
I revisited the House of Industry, finding it to be still carried on as I have described at the beginning of this volume. The changes and improvements recommended by Count Rumford have not been made—in great establishments like this it is difficult to persuade the governing body to change the methods to which they have been accustomed. As a matter of fact, the economical heater and hot pipes which the count constructed are suited only for a small building with twenty or thirty inmates. There are here over seventeen hundred.<56>
The drunkenness which prevails among the lower classes contributes much to their degradation, and to perpetuate poverty. There is nothing more disgusting than the spectacle of rag-covered women coming out of the public houses, carrying two or three nearly-naked children and begging for alms. At such too frequent sight the heart's door closes, pity and compassion disappear, leaving behind only feelings of disgust and horror, and a desire to fly from the unpleasant company. Some people have told me that, formerly, drunkenness was just as common in England, but that since 'The Gin Act,' which, by a heavy duty, has put strong liquors beyond the purchasing power of the people, they drink now only porter, or ale, healthy and strengthening drinks on which one could hardly manage to get drunk. A 'Whiskey Act' for Ireland would be a great benefit to the country, and would soon destroy this odious vice which kills the industry of the poor and keeps them in idleness, dirt, and the most abject poverty.
As I have spoken in the course of this work of manners and customs which seem to me to be different from those of England, I do not propose to recapitulate these. Every county, nearly, has its own peculiar customs, and this diversity makes a journey in Ireland much more amusing for the minute and careful observer. The traveller by coach cannot observe these peculiarities. Generally it may be said that all the reports which have occasioned English prejudice are either false or much exaggerated.
The infatuation for ancient descent exists certainly, but to much less extent than asserted. It is the adventurer who leaves his country who boasts himself of, and terrifies you with, the great names in 'Mac 'and 'O'. In the country itself no attention is paid to such things. It is quite true that the Irish still distinguish the old families from the new (so-called)—these latter being all who arrived in Ireland since the time of Strongbow, six hundred years or more ago—but this is more by way of remembrance of independent times than from pride. Here it is possible after such long lapse of time to see the peasants, in certain districts, pay ceremonious respect to the representative of their ancient prince. He who is perhaps the most extraordinary is Roderick O'Connor, descendant of the kings of Connaught and of the last great monarch of Ireland at the time of the English invasion in 1171. I have been told that his domestics serve him kneeling, and that no one may sit down in his presence without his permission. When he is addressed or written to one must say O'Connor, without any style or title whatever.
I am very sorry that I did not see him; I was not within forty Irish miles of his house. The crown of gold of the last monarch is said to be in possession of his family, although there are those who think it has been disposed of to a jeweller. I suppose I shall be considered very barbarous, yet I must avow that I find something touching and honourable in these ancient usages.
There are many persons of the name of O'Neill—the O'Neills were kings of Ulster—O'Briens, and MacDermotts, which are old royal names of Munster and Leinster, but I have not heard whether there be any living representative of these royal families; at any rate I have heard of none receiving homage such as I have described.
The changes which the moderation of the Government has brought about, of late years, in Ireland, permit the hope that, in the absence of violent crises, the whole of the inhabitants, no matter what may be their religion, will soon come to regard themselves as one people, and will cease to look on each other as conquerors on the one side, or vanquished on the other. The landlords who, until lately, feeling their position insecure, tried to draw the most they could out of their estates, without troubling about the misery of their compatriots, see, at last, the prejudices arising out of the manner in which their ancestors acquired the estates weakened and dying—they feel themselves real owners. On the other side the people have become accustomed to see them occupy the place of the ancient families. Out of this mutual desire for forgetfulness of the past, it results naturally that the rich, no longer looking on themselves as usurping proprietors, take an interest in the affairs of the country which furnishes their riches, and now, far from wishing to drain the wealth of an estate which they are certain of passing to their children, they strive to improve it and make life more easy and comfortable for the peasants who cultivate it.
Out of such happy change of the state of affairs we may expect prosperity to come to this land, and I have no doubt that, if such measures as have been adopted of late years are continued, and if the Government succeeds in extirpating the seeds of sedition and in preserving peace, Ireland will become a nation, happy and prosperous, and as much respected as in former times she has been despised and misjudged.