One Irish Summer

Part 1

Chapter 13,478 wordsPublic domain

Transcriber's Note

Certain typographical features, such as italic font, cannot be reproduced in this version of the text. Any italicized font is delimited with the underscore character as _italic_. Any "small cap" text is shifted to all uppercase. The occasional 'oe' ligature is given as separate characters. Fractions are formatted as, for example, "2-1/4".

Illustrations, of course, cannot be provided here, but their approximate positions in the text are indicated as:

Please consult the more detailed notes at the end of this text for the resolution of any other issues that were encountered.

ONE IRISH SUMMER

ONE IRISH SUMMER

BY

WILLIAM ELEROY CURTIS

AUTHOR OF

"_The Yankees of the East_," "_Between the Andes and the Ocean_" "_Modern India_," "_The Turk and his Lost Provinces_" "_To-day in Syria and Palestine_," _etc._

_ILLUSTRATED_

NEW YORK

_DUFFIELD & COMPANY_

1909

COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY WILLIAM E. CURTIS

COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY DUFFIELD & COMPANY

THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.

CONTENTS

PAGE

I. A SUMMER IN IRELAND 1

II. THE CATHEDRALS AND DEAN SWIFT 15

III. HOW IRELAND IS GOVERNED 34

IV. DUBLIN CASTLE 53

V. THE REDEMPTION OF IRELAND 60

VI. SACRED SPOTS IN DUBLIN 77

VII. THE OLD AND NEW UNIVERSITIES 97

VIII. ROUND ABOUT DUBLIN 115

IX. THE LANDLORDS AND THE LANDLESS 130

X. MAYNOOTH COLLEGE AND CARTON HOUSE 143

XI. DROGHEDA, AND THE VALLEY OF THE BOYNE 159

XII. TARA, THE ANCIENT CAPITAL OF IRELAND 174

XIII. SAINT PATRICK AND HIS SUCCESSOR 188

XIV. THE SINN FEIN MOVEMENT 202

XV. THE NORTH OF IRELAND 209

XVI. THE THRIVING CITY OF BELFAST 222

XVII. THE QUAINT OLD TOWN OF DERRY 237

XVIII. IRISH EMIGRATION AND COMMERCE 247

XIX. IRISH CHARACTERISTICS AND CUSTOMS 260

XX. WICKLOW AND WEXFORD 268

XXI. THE LAND OF RUINED CASTLES 283

XXII. THE IRISH HORSE AND HIS OWNER 300

XXIII. CORK AND BLARNEY CASTLE 312

XXIV. REMINISCENCES OF SIR WALTER RALEIGH 330

XXV. GLENGARIFF, THE LOVELIEST SPOT IN IRELAND 343

XXVI. THE LAKES OF KILLARNEY 366

XXVII. INTEMPERANCE, INSANITY, AND CRIME 391

XXVIII. THE EDUCATION OF IRISH FARMERS 404

XXIX. LIMERICK, ASKEATON, AND ADARE 417

XXX. COUNTY GALWAY AND RECENT LAND TROUBLES 432

XXXI. CONNEMARA AND THE NORTHWEST COAST 443

XXXII. WORK OF THE CONGESTED DISTRICTS BOARD 459

INDEX 475

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

An Ancient Celtic Cross at Glendalough _Frontispiece_

FACING PAGE

Queenstown 4

The Rock of Cashel, County Tipperary 8

Holycross Abbey, County Tipperary 10

St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin 16

The Tomb of Strongbow, Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin 32

The Earl of Aberdeen, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland in 1906-9 34

The Countess of Aberdeen 36

The Four Courts, Dublin 48

The Castle, Dublin; Official Residence of the Lord Lieutenant and Headquarters of the Government 54

The Customs House, Dublin 78

The Bank of Ireland, Old Parliament House, Dublin 80

St. Stephen's Green, Dublin 90

Quadrangle, Trinity College, Dublin 98

Main Entrance, Trinity College, Dublin 102

Sackville Street, Dublin, showing Nelson's Pillar 116

Lighthouse at Howth, Mouth of Dublin Bay 122

Portumna Castle, County Galway; the Seat of the Earl of Clanricarde 138

Maynooth College, County Kildare 144

Carton House, Maynooth, County Kildare; the Residence of the Duke of Leinster 152

A Celtic Cross at Monasterboice, County Louth 166

Ruins of Mellifont Abbey, near Drogheda, County Louth 168

Carrickfergus Castle 180

St. Patrick's Cathedral at Armagh, the Seat of Cardinal Logue, the Roman Catholic Primate of Ireland 194

Cathedral, Downpatrick, where St. Patrick lived, and in the Churchyard of which he was buried 196

The Village of Downpatrick 200

Rosstrevor House, near Belfast, the Residence of Sir John Ross, of Bladensburg 210

Shane's Castle, near Belfast, the Ancient Stronghold of the O'Neills, Kings of Ulster 216

Queen's College, Belfast 226

Albert Memorial, Belfast 228

The Giant's Causeway, Portrush, near Belfast 244

Bishop's Gate, Derry 246

Irish Market Women 260

An Ancient Bridge in County Wicklow 268

The Vale of Avoca, County Wicklow 272

The River Front at Waterford 290

Lismore Castle, Waterford County; Irish Seat of the Duke of Devonshire 292

An Irish Jaunting Car 308

Going to Market 310

Queen's College, Cork 314

Blarney Castle, County Cork 322

Kilkenny Castle; Residence of the Duke of Ormonde 326

The Ancient City of Youghal, County Cork; the Home of Sir Walter Raleigh 330

Myrtle Lodge; the Home of Sir Walter Raleigh 338

Lake Gougane-Barra, County Cork 348

Chapel erected by Mr. John R. Walsh of Chicago on the Island of Gougane-Barra 350

The Pass of Keimaneigh through the Mountains between Cork and Glengariff 352

Glengariff Bridge 356

Kenmare House, Killarney 372

Upper Lake, Killarney 376

Ross Castle, Killarney 380

Muckross Abbey, Killarney 384

A Window of Muckross Abbey, Killarney 388

Treaty Stone, Limerick 422

Adare Abbey, in the Private Grounds of the Earl of Dunraven, near Limerick 428

Fish Market, Galway 438

Salmon Weir, Galway 442

A Scene in Connemara 444

Clifden Castle, County Galway 448

A Scene in the West of Ireland; Lenane Harbor 450

Barnes Gap, County Donegal 460

An Irish Cabin in County Donegal 464

The Old: A Laborer's Sod Cabin; The New: Example of the Cottages built in Connemara by the Congested Districts Board 470

Interior and Exterior of One-Story Cottages erected by the Congested Districts Board 472

ONE IRISH SUMMER

I

A SUMMER IN IRELAND

For those who have never spent a summer in Ireland there remains a delightful experience, for no country is more attractive, unless it be Japan, and no people are more genial or charming or courteous in their reception of a stranger, or more cordial in their hospitality. The American tourist usually lands at Queenstown, runs up to Cork, rides out to Blarney Castle in a jaunting car, and across to Killarney with a crowd of other tourists on the top of a big coach, then rushes up to Dublin, spends a lot of money at the poplin and lace stores, takes a train for Belfast, glances at the Giant's Causeway, and then hurries across St. George's Channel for London and the Continent. Hundreds of Americans do this each year, and write home rhapsodies about the beauty of Ireland. But they have not seen Ireland. No one can see Ireland in less than three months, for some of the counties are as different as Massachusetts and Alabama. Six weeks is scarcely long enough to visit the most interesting places.

The railway accommodations, the coaches, the steamers, and other facilities for travel are as perfect as those of Switzerland. The hotels are not so good, and there will be a few discomforts here and there to those who are accustomed to the luxuries of London and Paris, but they can be endured without ruffling the temper, simply by thinking of the manifold enjoyments that no other country can produce.

And Ireland is particularly interesting just now because of the mighty forces that are engaged in the redemption of the people from the poverty and the wretchedness in which a large proportion of them have been submerged for generations. No government ever did so much for the material welfare of its subjects as Great Britain is now doing for Ireland, and the improvement in the condition of affairs during the last few years has been extraordinary.

In order to observe and describe this economic evolution, the author spent the summer of 1908 visiting various parts of the island and has endeavored to narrate truthfully what he saw and heard. This volume contains the greater part of a series of letters written for _The Chicago Record-Herald_ and also published in _The Evening Star_ of Washington, _The Times_ of St. Louis, and other American papers. By permission of Mr. Frank B. Noyes, editor and publisher of _The Chicago Record-Herald_, and to gratify many readers who have asked for them, they are herewith presented in permanent form.

About three hundred passengers landed with us at Queenstown. Most of them were young men and young women of Irish birth, returning after a few years' experience in the United States. Several had come home to be married, but most of them were on a visit to their parents and other relatives. Among those who disembarked were several older men and women who were born in Ireland, but had been taken to America in infancy or in childhood and were now looking upon the fair face of Erin for the first time.

There is an astonishing difference in the appearance and behavior of the steerage passengers who are sailing east from those who are sailing west. A few years, or even a few months, in America causes an extraordinary change in the dress and the manners of a European peasant. You can see it in the passengers that land at Genoa and Naples, and those that land at Hamburg and Trieste. But it is even more noticeable in the Americanized Irish who land at Queenstown by the thousand every summer from New York. The Italian, the Hungarian, or the Pole who goes aboard a steamer to America with his humble belongings and his quaint looking garments is a very different person from the man who sails from New York back to the fatherland a few years later. And the Irish boys and girls who went ashore with us just as the sun was waking up Ireland were as hearty, well dressed, and prosperous looking as you would wish to see. And every young woman had a big "Saratoga" in place of the "cotton trunk with the pin lock" that she carried away with her when she left the old country for America the first time. I don't know what was in those big trunks, although one can get a glimpse of their contents if he stands by while the customs officers are inspecting them, but you can see the names "Delia O'Connell, New York," "Katherine Burke, Chicago," and "Mary Murphy, Baltimore," marked in big black letters at either end. And what is most noticeable, the trunks are all new. They have never crossed the ocean before, but will be going back again to America in a few months. Their owners will not be contented with the discomforts they will find at their old homes. Ireland is more prosperous today than for generations, but conditions among the poorer classes are very different from those that exist in the new world.

The purser told me that he changed nearly $4,000 of American into English money the day before we landed, for third-class passengers alone. One man had $400; that was the maximum, but the rest of those who disembarked at Queenstown had from $50 up to $250 and thereabouts in cash, with their return tickets.

Queenstown makes a brave appearance from the deck of a ship in the bay, even before sunrise. It lies along a steep slope, with green fields and forests on either side, and the most conspicuous building is a beautiful gothic cathedral, with an unfinished tower, that was commenced in 1868 and has cost nearly a million dollars already. The hill is so steep that a heavy retaining wall has been built as a buttress to make the cathedral foundations secure, and the worshipers must climb a winding road or a sharp stairway to reach it. A little farther along the hillside is an imposing marine hospital and group of barracks, from which we could hear the bugles sounding "reveille" as we landed. There are compensations to those who are marooned at Queenstown before daylight, and one of them is the picturesque surroundings of the ancient homes of the O'Mahony's, who ruled this part of Ireland for many generations long ago.

The harbor is like an amphitheatre, entirely inclosed by hills, three hundred or four hundred feet high, that are covered with frowning battlements. Every hilltop is strongly fortified. The bay, which is four miles long and about two miles wide, contains several islands, upon which the government has built warehouses, repair shops, shipyards, and the other appurtenances of a naval station, guarded by Fort Carlisle, Fort Camden, and other modern fortresses. Upon Haulbowline Island is a depot for ammunition and other ordnance stores, and the pilot told me that on Rocky Island near by were two magazines--great chambers chiseled out of the living rock by Irish convicts who were formerly confined there--and that each of them contained twenty-five thousand barrels of powder belonging to the British navy.

Queenstown has many handsome estates overlooking the sea and the bay from the hills that inclose the harbor. There is an old ruined castle at Monkstown that was built in 1636 by Anastasia Gould, wife of John Archdecken, while her husband was at sea. She determined that she would surprise him when he returned home. So she hired a lot of men to build a castle with only the material they found on the estate, and made an agreement with them that they should buy the food and clothing necessary for their families from herself alone. It is the first record of a "company store" that I know of. When the castle was finished and the accounts were balanced it was found that the cost of the labor had been entirely paid for by the profits of this thrifty woman's mercantile transactions, with the sum of four pence as a balance to her credit. Her husband returned in due time and was so delighted with his new home that he never went to sea again. His estimable wife died in 1689, and was buried in the churchyard of Team-pulloen-Bryn, where this story is inscribed with her epitaph.

On Wood's Hill, overlooking the bay, is a handsome estate that once belonged to Curran, the famous lawyer and orator, whose daughter was the sweetheart of Robert Emmet, the Irish martyr. Her melancholy romance is related in Washington Irving's story called "The Broken Heart" and in one of Tom Moore's ballads.

It is 165 miles from Queenstown to Dublin, and the railroad passes through several of the counties whose names are most familiar to Americans, for they have furnished the greater portion of our Irish immigrants--Cork, Limerick, Tipperary, Queens, and Kildare. Most of the passengers who landed with us took the same train, and they were so many that they crowded the little railway station to overflowing and created a scene of lively confusion. Some of them had been met by brothers, fathers, sweethearts, and friends, who were waiting two hours before daylight, and the hearty greetings and enthusiasm they showed were contagious. The sweethearts were easy to identify. The demonstrations of affection left no doubt, but all the world loves a lover, and we rejoiced with them. In the long line that stood before the ticket seller's window at the railway station they chattered unconsciously like so many sparrows, their arms around each other, with an occasional embrace, a sly kiss and a slap to pay for it, tender caresses upon the shoulder or the head, and other expressions of a happiness that could not have been concealed. The home-bred young men gazed with wonder and admiration at the finery worn by their sweethearts from America, who, by the way, although they came third class, and were undoubtedly chambermaids or shop girls in our cities, were the best-looking and the best-dressed women we saw in Ireland. The pride of the parents at the appearance and the manners of their sons or daughters showed that they appreciated the accomplishments that American experience acquires.

One of the younger passengers, a boy of twenty years, perhaps, told me that he had come from Ohio to persuade his father to send his two younger brothers back with him. They live in Tipperary, where "there is no show for a young man now." Another young man had a tiny American flag pinned to the lapel of his coat, and when I said, "You show your colors," the lassie who clung to his arm turned at me with a determined expression on her face and remarked:

"I'll be takin' that off and pinnin' a piece of green in its place vera soon."

"No, you don't, darlin'; none o' that," he replied. "I'm an American citizen, and I don't care who knows it. If you don't want to be one yourself, I know another girl who does."

The country through which the railway to Dublin runs affords a beautiful example of Irish scenery. As far as Cork the track follows the bank of the River Lee, which is inclosed on either side by a high ridge crowned with stately mansions, glorious trees, and handsome gardens. Several of the places are historic, and the scenery has been frequently described in verse by the Irish poets.

Father Prout, a celebrated rhymemaker of Cork, has described one of the villages as follows:

"The town of Passage is both large and spacious, And situated upon the say; 'Tis nate and dacent and quite adjacent To Cork on a summer's day. There you may slip in and take a dippin' Foreninst the shippin' that at anchor ride, Or in a wherry you can cross the ferry To Carrigaloe on the other side."

We could not see much from the car window, but we saw enough on the journey to understand why it is called "The Emerald Isle" and why the Irish people are so enthusiastic over its landscapes. The river is walled in nearly all the distance to Cork, and there are many factories, storehouses, and docks on both sides. Quite a fleet of steamers ply between Queenstown and Cork, and trains on the railroad are running every hour. Small seagoing vessels can go up as far as Cork, but the larger ones discharge and receive their cargoes at Queenstown. We couldn't see much of the towns because the railway tracks are either elevated so that only the roofs and chimney pots are visible, or else they are buried between impenetrable walls or pass through tunnels on either side of the station. But when the train passed out into the open a succession of most attractive landscapes was spread before us as far as the horizon on either side, and the fields were alive with bushes of brilliant orange-colored gorse, or furze, as it is sometimes called. They lit up the atmosphere as the burning bush of Moses might have done. Very little of the ground is cultivated. Only here and there is a field of potatoes and cabbages, but the pastures are filled with fine looking cattle and sheep, for this is the grazing district of Ireland, from whence her famous dairy products and the best beef and mutton come.

Beyond Portarlington we got our first glimpses of the bogs, with which we are told one-sixth of the surface of Ireland is covered, an area of not less than 2,800,000 acres. Bogs were formerly supposed to be due to the depravity of the natives, who are too lazy to drain them and have allowed good land to run to waste and become covered with water and rotten vegetation, but this theory has been effectively disposed of by science. Everybody should know that the bogs of Ireland are not only due to the natural growth of a spongy moss called sphagnum, but furnish an inexhaustible fuel supply to the people and have a value much greater than that of the drier and higher land. The report of a "bogs commission" describes them as "the true gold mines of Ireland," and estimates them as "infinitely more valuable than an inexhaustible supply of the precious metal." The average Irish bog will produce 18,231 tons of peat per acre, which is equivalent to 1,823 tons of coal, thus making the total supply of peat equivalent to 5,104,000 tons of coal, capable of producing 300,000 horse power of energy daily for manufacturing purposes for a period of about four hundred and fifty years. With coal selling at $2 a ton in Ireland to-day, this makes the bogs of Ireland worth $10,000,000,000. The "bog trotter" is an individual to be cultivated, for when our coal deposits in the United States are exhausted we may have to send over and buy some of his peat for fuel. It is proposed to utilize these deposits and save transportation charges by erecting power-houses at the peat beds and furnish electricity over wires to the neighboring towns and cities for lighting, power, and other purposes, "for anybody having work to do from curling a lady's hair to running tramways and driving machinery." The writer refers to recent installations of electric works in Mysore, India, for working gold fields ninety miles distant, and quotes the late Lord Kelvin's opinion that the city of New York will soon be getting its power from Niagara, four hundred miles away. We saw them digging peat in the fields and piling it up like damp bricks to dry in the sun. Freshly dug peat contains about seventy per cent of moisture, but when cured the ratio is reduced to fifteen or twenty per cent.