The Cathedral Towns and Intervening Places of England, Ireland and Scotland
by Thomas W. Silloway · English · Gutenberg #45909 · 866,045 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Cathedral Towns and Intervening Places of England, Ireland and Scotland
Author: Thomas W. Silloway
Lee L. Powers
Release date: June 7, 2014 [eBook #45909]
Most recently updated: October 24, 2024
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CATHEDRAL TOWNS AND INTERVENING PLACES OF ENGLAND, IRELAND AND SCOTLAND ***
THE
Cathedral Towns
AND INTERVENING PLACES OF
ENGLAND, IRELAND,
AND
SCOTLAND:
A DESCRIPTION OF CITIES, CATHEDRALS, LAKES, MOUNTAINS,
RUINS, AND WATERING-PLACES.
BY
THOMAS W. SILLOWAY
AND
LEE L. POWERS.
"A dwarf standing on the shoulders of a giant may see farther than
the giant himself."--DIDIMUS STELLA.
BOSTON:
CUPPLES AND HURD.
94 BOYLSTON STREET.
1887.
_Copyright, 1883_,
BY A. WILLIAMS AND COMPANY.
THIRD EDITION.
UNIVERSITY PRESS:
JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.
TO
LUTHER GARDNER ROBBINS,
THE GOOD COMPANION AND FRIEND OF ONE OF THE AUTHORS
FOR MORE THAN A QUARTER OF A CENTURY,
AND OF THE OTHER FOR SOME YEARS,
This Volume
IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED AS A SMALL TOKEN
OF REGARD AND ESTEEM.
INTRODUCTORY.
The Authors, having travelled somewhat leisurely over important parts
of Ireland and Scotland, and in a yet more deliberate and critical
manner over the principal parts of England,--observing not only salient
points in the life of each country, but at the same time passing in
review their history and work,--and believing that a synopsis of what
their New England eyes, ears, and minds saw, heard, and discovered,
would be acceptable to the public, one of them prepared a series of
articles which were published in one of the weekly papers of Boston.
The interest awakened, and a belief that these reminiscences should be
put into a more permanent form, have inclined the authors to amend the
articles as the case seemed to demand, and they are thus presented in
this volume.
When the original papers were prepared, a departure from the usual
custom of writers on travel was made. Instead of simply recording
personal observations, the labor was extended by the incorporation of
historic and biographic facts, the authors hoping that, while their
work would be valuable and interesting as a compend to those familiar
with the facts, it would also be entertaining and instructive to that
large class, in all communities, who are without the means of obtaining
such information. Care was therefore exercised to obtain data verified
by the testimony of various authors.
The articles having been published in narrative style, it has been
thought well to present them again in that form; and the authors wish
to say by way of apology, if one be needed, that the opinions and
criticisms expressed are such as impressed their own minds, and are not
reflections of the minds of others. With this explanation, and craving
the indulgence and patience of the reader, they send forth their
volume.
CONTENTS.
Ireland.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. NEW YORK TO QUEENSTOWN, CORK 3
II. BLARNEY, KILLARNEY, THE LAKES 18
III. MUCKROSS ABBEY, LIMERICK, DUBLIN 36
IV. WATERFORD, CARRICK-ON-SUIR, KILKENNY, DUBLIN
AGAIN 57
England.
V. LIVERPOOL, CHESTER, SHREWSBURY, WORCESTER,
HEREFORD 75
VI. GLOUCESTER, BRISTOL, BATH, SALISBURY, SARUM,
AMESBURY, STONEHENGE, WILTON 95
VII. BEMERTON, WINCHESTER, READING, NEWBURY 114
VIII. LONDON 129
IX. OXFORD 161
X. WARWICK, STRATFORD-ON-AVON, LEAMINGTON,
KENILWORTH, COVENTRY, BIRMINGHAM, LICHFIELD 167
XI. STOKE-UPON-TRENT, STAFFORDSHIRE, MANCHESTER,
LEEDS, CARLISLE 187
Scotland.
XII. GLASGOW, ROB-ROY COUNTRY, THE LAKES,
CALLENDER, STIRLING 199
XIII. STIRLING CASTLE, EDINBURGH 212
XIV. MELROSE, ABBOTSFORD 233
England.
XV. NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE, DURHAM 243
XVI. YORKSHIRE, YORK, SHEFFIELD, LINCOLN 253
XVII. BOSTON, PETERBORO, LYNN 270
XVIII. WELLS, NORWICH, ELY 282
XIX. CAMBRIDGE 295
XX. LONDON, WINDSOR, STOKE POGES 315
XXI. LONDON, HAMPTON COURT, ROCHESTER,
CHATHAM, CANTERBURY 328
XXII. DOVER, BRIGHTON, CALAIS 343
INDEX 357
IRELAND.
CATHEDRAL TOWNS.
CHAPTER I.
NEW YORK TO QUEENSTOWN--CORK.
On Saturday the 12th day of April, 1878, at half-past 3 P.
M., the good Inman steamer City of Richmond, with us on board,
loosed her cables, and the floating palace moved out into North River
majestically,--as only such vessels can move,--passed the forts, and
sailed on, till at dusk, yet before dark, the Highlands of Neversink--a
misnomer to us then--retired from view, and, Byron-like, we felt and
said,
"My native land, good-night."
Suppered, and enjoyed the look of that waste of sky and waters till ten
o'clock, and then consigned ourselves to the embrace of
"Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep."
The morrow was Sunday. We were up betimes, and on deck for new views,
fresh air, and to see how things compared with those of last night. All
was well,--comparatively smooth sea, and good breeze. We had sailed
224 miles, and so were that much from home. Breakfasted, and on deck
again,--this time to see nearly all our cabin passengers, about one
hundred complete. They appeared well, and we thought our lot had been
cast in a pleasant place; and so it proved. There were conspicuous
the essentials of comfort for the voyage,--among them inclined-back,
cane-finished lounging-chairs, and good blanket robes, brought by
providential people who had travelled before, or who had friends who
had journeyed and in whose advice they had confidence. No matter if it
be July or August, it is a good friend who effectually advises one to
carry a great coat, shawl, or blanket robe.
The sun shone bright, and the inhabitants of the City of Richmond
were happy. At 10 A. M. came the roll-call of sailors and
table-waiters, arranged in squads at special points. An officer and
the captain passed in front, the name of each was distinctly called,
the old, old response, _Here_, passed along the line, and the work
was done. Of course a large part of the passengers were near by,
inspecting, and they were presuming enough to think all was going on
right, and the work well done.
Next came an officer giving information that divine service was to be
held in the cabin at 11 A. M., and inviting singers to be at
a certain location. One of our party, having before tried the ship's
piano, was installed as pianist. At the hour appointed, nearly all on
board, including the sailors, had assembled, and it seemed very like
a church meeting. The pulpit was a desk placed on a common table,
covered with a cloth; a Bible and prayer-book were on it, and our
captain officiated,--a man of fine physique, apparently about sixty
years old, and, but for the absence of clerical robes, very bishop-like
in appearance. He went finely through the service of the Church of
England, employing about an hour, and concluded by saying: "I am now to
preach my usual sermon, which is to take up a collection for the widows
and orphans of sailors." A good charity,--and a befitting response was
made.
At one o'clock, dinner; next, various methods of using the time, the
principal of which was reading or lounging about decks.
Soon came a change in conditions. Wind breezed up and we had more
than a fifteen-mile power; and so sails were in order--our first
sight of operations of the kind. Next came white-capped waves; and at
5 P. M. had come those indescribably hateful movements of
the ship, that many a one has felt before,--down first at bow, and
next up at stern, and _vice versa_ continuing. "Confound," said they
of the physically weakening brigade, "the deliberation, yet fearful
determination and success with which these movements are made,"--as
though transforming us first into lead and then into feathers; and
soon follows an aggravating roll, playing with us as though we were
alternately puff-balls and cannon-shot. But neither waves nor ship
were to be _confounded_ to accommodate us. Instead, both ship and sea
appeared to be in league with the old-fashioned adversary. It seemed,
to the subjugated ones, as though his Satanic Majesty was down under
the propellers, with a mighty power straightening himself up, and
lifting as only he could do; and then, as aid, there appeared to be an
imp scarcely less powerful, pulling down at the bow, and in addition,
many a fellow of like nature under each side of the ship, lifting up
and letting go alternately. What masters of the art! How easily they
did it!
Disgusted with the company and their doings, one after the other of
our associates paid tribute to whom tribute was due; and what was left
of our disgusted organisms went below as best they could. And here the
curtain drops; for, though the spirit was willing, the flesh was weak.
It is 6 P. M., Sunday. We were told that the winds increased
to a gale; rain, snow-squalls and hail came into the fray. The vessel
staggered; the stanch bulwarks were but a partial barrier to that
fury-lashed sea; and the decks were often swept with the newest of new
brooms.
Next in our record is Friday P. M. Fair weather. Ship has come
out ahead. Imps and their master are defeated and gone; the decks, as
by talismanic transformation, are peopled again with the old brigade;
and then for hours is in order a statement of what each has done and
has not done. Well, the history of one lot of mortals, conditioned
thus, is that of all.
It is a question often arising with people who have never been to
sea, how passengers manage to occupy their time and break up the
monotony of the passage. On a long voyage, days and hours doubtless
move sluggishly, but on a simple passage to England this is not so.
A thousand things, that on land would be of no account, on shipboard
attract attention and please. "Men are but children of a larger
growth," and there are playthings in abundance. There's a discount
on reserve, and at sea a general freedom in conversation obtains;
aristocracy is at a discount, and democracy at a premium. Reading,
lolling around in a delightfully don't-care sort of a way, are done in
first-class manner; smoking, cards, and checkers occupy some, while
others are busy lookers-on. Talking things over,--politics, religion,
science, and a large amount of nothing in particular; promenading;
watching steamers and sailing vessels; observing schools of fish, or
single ones, ocean currents, peculiar clouds, and work the sailors
are doing; eating four meals, or eating none, but instead hating the
thought of increasing one's self,--these and like things fill the eight
or ten days. And so we were entertained and employed to the journey's
end,--greatly interested in the chart at the head of the companion-way,
which at noon daily had marked upon it a distinct line showing the
direction and extent of sea passed over the preceding twenty-four hours.
So our voyage continued till the next Sunday, at 6 P. M.,
when the monotony was broken by one of the officers confidentially
saying he thought he saw land. Of all intelligence to a tourist this
is most welcome. One of the passengers--nameless here--looked to the
left far ahead, and really saw what the officers did; but to his less
disciplined or sea-educated eyes it appeared to be a ship, and so
he declared; but in a half-hour more sounded from stem to stern the
intelligence of discovered land, and then the fancied ship had been
transformed into a dim-appearing, small mountain. It was the Skellig
Rocks, the first-seen land of Ireland, fifty miles from Cape Clear.
Passing on came to view Dursey Island, with its Bull, Cow, and Calf
rocks, and then--alas for us waiters and watchers!--night came and we
must forbear.
At 4 o'clock A. M. on that fine Easter Monday morning, April
21, a good company on deck saw plainly on the left, and not far away,
the veritable land. There lay in the distance the old mountains of
Munster, and Fastnet Rock, a pyramidal formation standing majestic in
the water five miles or so out from the high, dark, rocky coast. Next a
lighthouse came into view, desolate but surrounded by an indescribable
beauty.
Soon we pass into George's Channel. The land is treeless, but clothed
with elegant verdure. The surf beats wildly and unhindered against
its rocky ramparts. Here and there, nestling cosily on the hillsides,
are small Irish cabins, one-story high, built of stone, plastered and
whitewashed, having thatched roofs, a few small windows, and a single
door. Next appear a few Martello Towers of stone, some twenty-five feet
in diameter, and perhaps forty feet high,--designed as fortresses,
having formerly, if not at present, cannon on their level, and, it may
be, revolving tops. And now appear fresh evidences of civilization,
in the fishing-boats with tan-colored sails; and next we arrive at a
little hamlet, Crooked Haven, the seat of the telegraph to Queenstown.
We next pass Kinsale Head; in less than an hour more Daunt's Rock, with
its bell-buoy; and after that a sail of five miles carries us to the
opening into Queenstown Harbor, and we are at the end of the voyage.
It is now 5 o'clock A. M. Our ship for the first time in
eight days shuts off steam; her pace slackens; and--as though while
not tired, yet willing to rest--she floats leisurely. How majestic and
calm! The small "tender" steamer is alongside, and now what scenes
begin! How others retire before the hurry, the bustle, the good-nature
everywhere manifest. A veritable "Paradise Regained." No matter for
corns trodden upon, nor lack of respect for dignity or age. Every one
destined for a landing minds his own business. Never was work of the
kind done better. All the Queenstown passengers on board, the tender
starts for the desired haven.
The City of Richmond starts her machinery, and is soon lost to view on
her journey of eighteen hours to Liverpool; but we on board the small
steamer are full of admiration for the new sights and sounds. Have just
passed through the great opening two miles across, and one mile deep or
through, and so are inside the harbor lines. In passing, on our left
were high, verdant hills. On the right were higher hills, crowned with
a few chalk-white buildings,--the lighthouse and its keeper's dwelling,
the grounds enclosed with a wall, white like the buildings, resembling
fairy-work in that setting of emerald. And now has opened an expanse of
great extent and rare beauty. "No finer harbor in the world can there
be," think and ejaculate all, at that early day, when few if any of the
party have travelled; and "No finer in the world is there," say we now,
when we have gone a good part of the world over.
To the right, encircling and on a magnificent scale, stretch the green
hills on a curved line, half enclosing a basin five miles long and
three wide. As before named the hills are grandly verdant, and dotted
over here and there with single stone shanties, as white as snow.
Scattered about promiscuously in profusion is the Furze--a shrub from
two to six feet high, in general appearance not unlike our savin--in
full bloom, with a profusion of chrome-yellow blossoms, fragrant and
like the odor of a ripe peach. A few groves intermingle, and thus a
finished look is given, inclining the beholder to call all perfect and
needing no change. To the left is a scene more broken in outline and
less elevated and extended. There is a sublime repose and feminine
beauty to the right and around the shore to the town; but on the left
is a masculine effect, and a sort of vigorous business air obtains. In
the foreground of this side of the harbor, and not far from the shore,
are three islands, on which are the barracks, the penitentiary for
eight hundred convicts, and the naval storehouses, four or five stories
high. These are modern and appropriate-looking stone edifices, built,
as all such establishments are, "regardless of expense." In front of
the opening to the harbor, and two miles away, lies the town itself,
containing 10,039 inhabitants, and till 1849 called the Cove of Cork.
In that year, in commemoration of a visit of Queen Victoria, it took
the name of Queenstown.
We are for the first time inside a harbor of the land of the shamrock,
and beholding the soil of the Emerald Isle. Only one who has sailed and
waited and, Columbus-like, watched the approach to land, and has read
and thought well about the Old Country, can know the feelings that fill
the breast of one about to land. This pleasant anticipation is here,
for fancy resolves itself into reality and fact. He is about to "know
how it is himself," and as no one can know it for him.
The town lay stretched out in front, right and left, rising by abrupt
terraces or cross streets--parallel to the water--to a great height,
with a few streets leading upward. The wharves are of wood; and these,
which partake largely of the nature of a quay along the line of the
water, are old and more or less decayed in appearance, as are many of
the buildings in the vicinity. The houses to the right of our landing
and along the shore, and continuing up quite a distance on the hill,
are of the usual stone construction, being mostly one or two stories
high. The streets are very narrow, and far from being cleanly kept.
The rear yards of the houses, as they back up against the hill, are
very small; and as one walks through an elevated street, and looks down
into these contracted and filthy back-yards and on the roofs of the
houses, he is led to pity the occupants, for there is presented the
evidence of poverty and wretchedness. To the left of the landing, and
above this portion of the town, is a better population and condition.
The principal avenue and business portion of the place is at hand. A
wide, clean, and properly built thoroughfare, used more or less as a
market-place and stand for teams, stretches for a fourth of a mile,
with stores of fair capacity and good variety, and a few are of more
than average style. The buildings are nearly all of stone, light in
color, and three or four stories high.
From the nature of the land, and intermingled as the buildings above
the main street are with gardens and trees, a picturesque appearance
is presented; and the view of the great basin or harbor, from these
elevated streets is indescribably grand. The streets here, and
especially the continuing roads, are well macadamized and clean.
At the centre of the town a large and elegant Roman Catholic Cathedral,
built of dark limestone and in the decorated Gothic style of
architecture, is about finished.
One peculiarity of the place is a lack of fruit-trees in the gardens.
The common dark-leaved ivy abounds, and is found growing wild on
road-walls, and along the roadsides in profusion. As a front-yard
or lawn shrub, fuchsias, such as are raised in America in pots, are
common, and often in large clumps like our elder, six or eight feet
high.
Another peculiarity is an absence of clothes-lines. Instead, the
practice prevails of spreading newly washed clothes on the grass, with
small stones to keep them from being blown away.
Another thing of interest is the common and general use of diminutive
donkeys to draw small carts, used by boys and girls, from eight to
sixteen years old, for common porterage. They are also used for
milk-wagons. Each wagon has an oaken tank, holding about half a barrel;
straight-sided, larger at the bottom than at the top, having a cover
and padlock; the measure hanging on one side. There is straw behind,
and at the front end the boy or girl is driving. These donkeys are
usually of a cream-color or gray. All are cheap and coarse-looking,
and a majority of them are aged, with their hair two thirds worn off.
They are the very personification of good-nature, and do their work
well. So far as value is concerned they are "worth their weight in
gold," but they cost, when in best condition, not more than ten dollars
each. Witnessing their patience, the great services they render, and
the small amount of recompense they have while living, we incline to
the opinion that, as a result of the working of the laws of cause
and effect, there may be expected for them good conditions in their
Hereafter. They are angels in disguise, and we wish they were in use in
America as commonly as they are here.
Other objects that attracted attention were the public wells built in
especial parts of the town. They are enclosed springs of water, or
it may be reservoirs supplied by pipes; the places are from six to
ten feet square, and only a few feet deep, a descent to which is made
by stone steps into the small, stone-covered rooms. The people using
them for the most part carry the water to their houses in earthen jars
holding two or three gallons each. The water is carried by girls and
women, seldom by boys and men; at least we could see none engaged in
the service. As may be imagined, considering the filthy nature of some
of the people who thus obtain the water, it is necessary to have a
placard declaring the enforcement of law on any one who dips a dirty
or questionable article into one of the wells, or interferes with the
purity of the water.
Signs render a large service in the place, and some of them make queer
statements,--at least so they appear to Americans. For instance, one
reads:
HERE MARGARET AHEARN IS LICENSED TO SELL TOBACCO.
The street letter-boxes had this inscription:
CLEARED AT 8 A.M. AND 6 P.M., AND ON SUNDAYS
AT 5 P.M.
At 2 P. M. this same day with some reluctance we left what
was to us a place of interest, and took the nice little black-painted
steamer Erin, for a sail from this Lower Harbor of Cork, as it formerly
was called, to the city itself.
The journey, covering a distance of eleven miles, may be made by rail
or steamer. The wise, pleasure-seeking tourist goes by river. On board
the little steamer, having paid a shilling (twenty-four cents) for the
passage, valises at our side,--and that is all of our baggage, or as
we ought now, being in foreign lands, to term it, _luggage_,--we take
our last admiring look at this queen of harbors, and with inexpressible
reluctance bid adieu to its beautiful scenery, submitting to our fate
in anticipation of another visit, as the steamer that takes us to
America will be here for a day to receive the mails. We steam to the
left end of the basin, and, rounding to the right, pass into the lovely
River Lee,--an extremely picturesque stream averaging here perhaps a
quarter of a mile in width.
The weather is cool, but pleasant for the season. Vegetation in certain
respects is three or four weeks in advance of that about Boston. This
applies to grass, lilacs and shrubs of the kind, and spring flowers;
but garden vegetables, from planted seeds, are not at all in advance.
In fact, up to this time, April 22, little planting has been done. The
atmosphere of the southern parts of Ireland and of England being very
damp, and the entire winter mild, certain kinds of vegetation advance;
but cultivated work has no especial advantage over New England, where
the first fruits of the gardener's labor are gathered as early as in
those islands.
But to return from our digression, we proceed on our short voyage to
Cork, and are now on our passage up the River Lee. The scenery on the
right bank, on the Queenstown side, is somewhat hilly and of pleasing
aspect, though not especially striking or unusual; but that of the
opposite shore is elegant and picturesque in the extreme. About a mile
from the mouth of the river is the beautiful village of Monkstown, a
semi-watering-place, having tourists' hotels and a castle. Monkstown
Castle is in ruins, having been built in the year 1636. It is related
that Anastatia Goold, a woman of masculine qualities, during the
absence of her husband in Spain, conceived the idea of building this as
a family mansion, and to pay for it, hit upon the scheme of supplying
her workmen with their family stores. She purchased them at wholesale,
and retailed them at a profit which paid the entire cost of the castle,
with the exception of a single groat (eight cents of our money).
The river above this widens into a small lake, and is called Loch
Mahon. Three and a half miles farther up we arrive at the smart little
village of Glenbrook; and one and a half miles farther, we come to
another pretty town, called Passage.
Soon appears Blackrock, a small promontory, on which is a structure
suggesting an ancient castle, built on a tongue of land extending
into the clear water of the river. The mansion, however, is old only
in style and outline, for it is of modern construction. Blackrock
is supposed to be the place from which William Penn, the founder of
Pennsylvania, set sail, A. D. 1682, landing after a passage of
six weeks.
We were for the hour sumptuously entertained. Small castles, coves,
headlands, near and distant scenery, and a luxurious vegetation lent
a fascination and charm, which was but the beginning of a series of
similar entertainments, not to end till after the first of September.
CORK.
Arrived at the castle, not far in the distance is seen, through the
opening of the hills making the river banks, the shipping of the city
of Cork, which is practically the capital of South Ireland. We find it
a large commercial metropolis, built closely on both sides of the River
Lee. The latter is parted at the city, and thus the left side of Cork
stands mainly on an island, connected with the other side by nine stone
or iron bridges. It has in all a population of 97,887, and is the third
city of Ireland in importance and commerce, being excelled only by
Dublin and Belfast.
On one side of the river as we pass into the city, at our left hand,
are shipyards, repair and dry docks, and a vast amount of work of
the kind is done. It may be added, there is presented to view in
the harbor a forest of masts, and here may be seen the shipping
of all nations. Near these and just above them, up along farther
in the city and bordering the river, are fine Boulevards,--narrow
parks or promenades well graded, called the Mardyke, and set out
with shade-trees. The opposite side of the river, at the entrance of
the harbor proper, is occupied by elegant lawns, with shrubbery and
shade-trees in front of fine mansions and villas; and again, along the
river above these, begins the business part of the city.
A good quay extends half a mile on both sides of the river. These have
walls of cut, dark limestone, crowned by a substantial railing as a
protecting balustrade. The larger part of the place, so far as its
business portion is concerned, is built on level ground, and here the
streets are wide, well paved and clean, and with the buildings, all of
which are of brick or stone, a majority of the latter being painted in
light colors, present a pleasing and finished appearance. All things
seen are anything but what is imagined by a stranger when he hears one
speak of Irish Cork.
Here and there, as at Queenstown, may be seen some of the old Irish
male stock, with corduroys and long stockings, velvet coats, peculiar
felt hats, heavy shoes--strangers to Day and Martin's specialty;
but these are exceptions, about as much so as they are in the Irish
sections of New York or Boston. Generally speaking, the dress of the
people, male and female, of Irish cities is not peculiar, and aside
from these exceptional instances they do not vary from those of London
or Boston.
As regards a good civilization--everywhere in the business parts of the
city, manifested by large and well-filled stores and fine warehouses,
and by well dressed and industrious people--our impressions were very
favorable.
The city in this region, like all large places, has its quota of
men loafing about its bridges and wharves, waiting, Micawber like,
"for something to turn up." So has Atlantic Avenue, Boston. In these
respects Boston is Corkish, or Cork is like Boston. About the steamer
wharves and at the railway station (we don't now talk of _depots_, for
to be true to foreign dialect, we must say _station_) it is the same.
At these, and along the thoroughfare from it, are boys, Yankee-like,
ready to turn an honest penny or to earn one; and very demonstrative
they are, and the cabmen as well. Americans are often outdone by them.
One of these boys, at the moment of our landing from the steamer,
seized our valises and _would_ carry them. He _in_sisted and we
_re_sisted, and at length the American element in us--"the spirit of
'76"--was aroused, and in the ascendant; and to convince him that he
ought to let go his hold, down came a hand on his arm with a force, and
accompanied by a tone of voice and ejaculation, that meant business.
"Keep off! Let go!" was the order and advice, and he did both.
Here, as at Queenstown, the little donkeys were on hand, and rendering
a large and patient service. The public buildings are not very
important, but substantial and good of their kind. Conspicuous among
the new edifices is the Episcopal Cathedral now being erected. It is of
stone, very imposing, with three towers, and in the Romanesque style of
architecture. The Roman Catholic Cathedral, SS. Peter and Paul, also of
dark limestone, having cut or hammered dressing, is a Gothic structure
of considerable size, with a good tower at the centre of the front end,
crowned with four turrets, and having a neat but small lawn, surrounded
with an iron fence, about the cathedral's front. It was erected after
designs by the celebrated F. W. Pugin, and cost $150,000. The interior,
although not old, was dirty and presented a dingy appearance. We were
told by the verger (sexton) that times being hard, business dull, and
the people poor, accounted for the condition. We differed in opinion in
other respects than theologically, but made no mention of the fact, and
passed out.
Of course we must see, and soon at that, the church of St. Ann's,
Shandon, and so made for that. It ought before to have been said that
soon after crossing the river the land rises quite fast; so that as one
stands in the business part, and in the thoroughfare along the line
of the river,--and looks across the entire section of the city from
the river backwards, the distant parts are seen towering much above
the business portion. High up, along from the centre to the right,
appear shade-trees and good gardens, with other evidences of a better
civilization; but from these along to the left is presented a view
quite the opposite of the front, or harbor, view of Queenstown. There,
the low population is to the right and near the water; while here it
begins half-way up the hill at the centre, and extends a half-mile or
more to the left; and, as we leave the centre named, the buildings
on the hillside, and the group or lot widening till they reach from
the river to the top of the hill, are so arranged that, with houses
of several stories and of remarkably quaint design, the high roofs
appear in ranges one above the other, and the great hillside presents a
strange, antique, thoroughly European appearance. They are of stone,
built in the most substantial manner, and are unlike anything that can
be found in America.
But we resume our journey to St. Ann's, Shandon. As observed from the
river streets, it stands not far from the Catholic Cathedral, nor far
from the centre of the hillside, as regards extent right and left, or
elevation. The edifice was built in 1722. The tower was built of hewn
stone, taken from the Franciscan Abbey--where James II. heard mass--and
from the ruins of Lord Barry's castle. It is of dark limestone on the
three principal sides, and, like the body of the church, with red
sandstone on the rear side above the church roof. The edifice is made
celebrated by what are termed and somewhat well known as The Sweet
Bells of Shandon, made conspicuous by the poem of Father Prout:--
"Sweet Bells of Shandon,
That sound so grand on
The pleasant waters of the River Lee."
The church is Protestant Episcopal, and is of a debased Roman
architecture. It has a square tower rising a proper distance above
the roof, and this is crowned by a series of three square sections
of somewhat ill proportions as regards their low height; and the top
one is finished with a small dome surmounted by an immense fish as a
vane, the tower and steeple being perhaps one hundred and twenty feet
high. We did not hear the bells, save as they played a few notes at the
quarter-hours. The one on which the hours are struck is probably the
largest tenor bell, and weighs perhaps 2000 pounds. What we did hear
of them did not arouse enthusiasm. We simply thought them good average
bells, and made more than that, in song and story, simply by Father
Prout's poem. One thing about the tower struck us forcibly, and that
was the monstrous dials, full twelve feet in diameter, painted directly
on the stonework of the tower, with a rim of stone at the figure circle.
Next, a few words in relation to the population and condition of this
part of the city. It will be remembered that we are now in the centre
of the hillside, as seen from the business parts of the place, and at
an elevation of full sixty feet,--in the conspicuous, and what ought to
be aristocratic, quarter of the metropolis. But alas for what "might
have been." The street in front, and the passage along the side of this
building, are ill cared for and filthy in the extreme. A burial-ground
forms part of the premises on both sides of the edifice, and is as
neglected and disgraceful as one can well imagine. On the right is a
thoroughfare alongside of the church, leading through the cemetery to
some institution--perhaps a parish-school or hospital--in the rear of
the church, and fronting on this passage-way. Here are cast-off shoes,
broken crockery, stones thrown about by the boys, and unmentionable
filth in abundance. At the right are broken monuments, badly defaced
gravestones, and half-dilapidated tombs, all betokening a general lack
of care over the premises.
Walking from the front of the church to the narrow and filthy streets
that compose the neighborhood, we noticed such odors, sights, and
conditions as we had before erroneously associated with all of Cork. We
here saw a low Ireland at its best--or worst, as we may choose to term
it; for here abounded dirt, degradation, poverty, and general squalor,
up to the height of our early imagination. The houses are of stone,
plastered and whitewashed, most of them one or two stories high, with
roofs covered with very small and thick slates. We soon had enough of
this kind of "Erin go bragh." If we did not know all that was possible
to be known, imagination would, in spite of us, aggravatingly supply
what was lacking.
As we passed out of this "Paradise Lost," or at least the one not
regained, we could but feel that to make less display of service
within their churches, depend less for good fame on the Sweet Bells of
Shandon, and render a more reasonable and practical service, would be
more rational, Christian and right.
We are told that the ancient Pharisees made the outside clean, and the
inside was full of dead men's bones, and all manner of uncleanness.
These people have reversed this, and without visible improvement.
Next must be named a thing of interest, and that is the Bazaar. It
is a one-story building of immense size, and in appearance like a
railway freight-house. Built of stone, and centrally situated, it is
filled with every conceivable kind of second-hand goods. Separated,
market-like, into stalls, it is so arranged and confusing as to
make a labyrinth of avenues and divisions. Here are such things as
old hardware, boots and shoes,--some as poor and valueless as we
throw away, some better and newly blacked,--clothing for both sexes,
crockery,--and we might continue the list. The Bazaar is managed by
women, and the place and its commodities are as indescribable as the
nationality of the Man in the Moon.
As at Queenstown, we saw much drunkenness, and often met, singly or in
squads, the Red-coats, or English soldiers; but more concerning these
will be said in another place.
The space we devote to this city is perhaps more than its share, but
less can hardly be said, and our references to it are ended by a
quotation or two from its history.
It is said that Cromwell, during his short sojourn in Cork, caused the
church bells to be cast into cannon. On being remonstrated with against
the profanity, he replied that as a priest had been the inventor
of gunpowder, the best use of the bells would be to cast them into
_canons_.
It was here that William Penn, founder of our Pennsylvania, became a
convert to Quakerism. He visited the place to look after his father's
property, changed his religion under the preaching of Thomas Loe, and
on Sept. 3, 1667, was apprehended with others and taken before the
Mayor's Court, charged with "attending unlawful assemblies." Refusing
to give bonds for good behavior he was imprisoned, but wrote to the
Lord President of the council of Munster, who ordered his discharge.
He was identified with the Quakers from this time till his decease, at
Ruscombe, England, July 30, 1718, at the age of seventy-four.
Cork has an interesting ancient history. It was long the seat of a
Pagan temple, on the site of which St. Fionn Bar, the anchorite,
founded a monastery in the beginning of the seventh century. The Danes
in the ninth century overran the kingdom, and were probably the real
founders of the city, and they surrounded it with walls; though the
St. Fionn Bar monastery had continued through the centuries, and it is
recorded that, on the intrusion of the Danes, the seminary had full
seven hundred scholars "who had flocked there from all parts."
The inhabitants, under the Danes and their successors, frequently
devastated the entire vicinity, and were in turn punished by the
neighboring chiefs.
In 1493 Perkin Warbeck, the impostor king and pretender to the throne
of England in the reign of Henry VII., was received here with great
pomp and display. In consequence of participation in this act, the
mayor was hanged and beheaded, and the city lost its charter, which was
not restored till 1609.
An ancient historian, Ralph Holinshed, whose works were published in
1577, thus describes this city. "On the land side they are encumbered
with evil neighbors--the Irish outlaws, that they are fein to watch
their gates hourlie, to keep them shut at service time, and at meales,
from sun to sun, nor suffer anie stranger to enter the citie with his
weapon, but the same to leave at a lodge appointed. They walk out at
seasons for recreation with power of men furnished. They trust not the
country adjoining, but match in wedlock among themselves onlie, so that
the whole citie is well-nigh linked one to the other in affinite."
In the War of the Protectorate, Cork maintained its condition as a
loyal city till 1649, when it was surprised and taken by Cromwell,
whose acts and cruelties are well known the civilized world over.
CHAPTER II.
BLARNEY--KILLARNEY--THE LAKES.
At 9 A. M. Tuesday, April 23, we took a jaunting-car for
famed Blarney Castle. Before proceeding with our story we must speak
of our team, for it is the mode of conveyance for tourists over the
Emerald Isle, and Ireland would hardly seem like Ireland without the
jaunting-car. It is a vehicle with two wheels and a single horse. The
driver is mounted up, sulky-style, in front. There are two seats,
lengthwise and back-to-back, for a couple of adult persons, facing
outwards, and most of the time _holding on_, though a little practice
convinces one that the danger of falling is less than anticipated.
Large numbers of these teams are in the main streets of all the
principal Irish towns, waiting for employment. The usual price for a
jaunt is eight shillings, or about $2.00 of American money. The one
selected, whose driver was over anxious to carry the two Amirikins, as
he called us, offered to do the job for 7_s._ 6_d._ Yankee-like, having
made a good bargain,--and the driver, unyankee-like, having as at an
auction bid against himself,--we mounted, and were soon on our way to
the place so renowned in history. First, we will consider the roads.
The ride is exceedingly pleasant, and over one of the smooth and hard
roads which are everywhere to be found in Ireland. We go out of Cork
southwardly, and pass through a small and not over-nice settlement
called Black Pool, by no means inaptly named. The scenery is very
pleasing, and so is the road we travel. The view on the north side
of the river, though not wild or romantic, has beautiful landscapes,
made up of fine hills and valleys, streams and groves, with, now and
then, unlooked-for ruins of a monastery or small castle, or of distant
round-towers.
There are no long straight roads, but there is an ever varying aspect,
and the ways are clean to a fault. It is a characteristic of Ireland,
England, and nearly all European countries, to have well-built
faced-stone walls along the roadside, and an entire absence of the
random weeds and bushes which so commonly grow along the walls and
sides of the roads in America. It is a disgrace to our Young American
civilization that it should be an exception, where the sides of our
roads, and especially in the vicinity of farmhouses, are clean,
and in lawn-like condition, as is always the case abroad. We have
much to learn from Ireland,--a deal of our practice to unlearn, and
considerable to do,--before we can compare favorably with Europe in
this respect. A waste of acres exists in consequence of this neglect on
nearly all New England farms. In the aggregate there are hundreds of
thousands of acres which, if kept clean and cultivated for grass, would
be profitable. Even if done at the town's expense, the income would go
far towards paying the cost of keeping in repair the adjoining highway.
The State should pass a law making this neglect a finable offence; and
the sooner all States do this the better our civilization will be.
We continue on our way enjoying inexpressibly the exhilarating air
and sunny, May-like day, and entertained somewhat by the clack of the
driver, who, as best he can, tries to make his old story appear to us
as new as possible, but, in spite of our or his efforts, we get the
impression that he has told that story before.
We next get a good but distant view of Carrigrohan Castle, belonging to
one Mr. McSwiney--the name of both castle and owner Irish enough. It
is situated on a precipitous limestone-rock formation on the opposite
bank of the river. At length--one hour passed, and about four miles
traversed--we arrive at the old, dirty, low, dilapidated, Irish town
of Blarney, which, for situation and surroundings, is as beautiful as
every place in Ireland can't help being. Blarney has been immortalized
in song by Millikin, Croker, and old, peculiar Father Prout.
A ride of two miles, and we are at the grounds of the castle itself.
It was built in the fifteenth century by Cormac McCarthy, or possibly
by the Countess of Desmond, and became the home of the famous family
of McCarthys. It is now a magnificent old ruin, well situated near
a little lake, and surrounded by grand old trees. Admission to the
premises is readily gained, as the grounds are open to the public free,
such small, optional fee being given to the guide as the tourist may
incline to present.
The castle consists mainly of the massive Donjon Tower, about forty
feet square, and one hundred and ten feet high, and some ruined walls
of less height, once part of adjoining apartments. Much of the tower
and lower walls is completely covered with ivy, and most of the foliage
is from twelve to sixteen inches thick. There is a picturesqueness
about such a place that is indescribable. The grand and colossal scale
on which it is constructed; the rich greenness of the lawns; the
shade of portions of the immediately adjoining groves; the sombre hue
of the stonework, and the dark green of the mantling ivy; the gleam
of the little lake as discovered through the vistas; the age of the
edifice, so apparent; the consciousness that this is a veritable ruin,
and what is left of an unparalleled splendor of other days, now calm
as if resting fixed in its immortality,--these combine to resolve
imagination into reality, and produce sensations that are felt, but
never transferred from one mortal to another. Perhaps there enters into
emotion a suggestion of decline and decay still operating. "The vulgar
crowd," as old English expression would put it, are possessed not by
the finer æsthetic conditions, but by those more tangible and material.
The famed Blarney Stone is one of the coping-stones of the outside
projecting cornice, near the top of the tower, and resting on large,
but plain, stone corbels, or brackets. In appearance from the ground,
it is six feet long and eighteen inches thick, and projects two feet
or so. Many years ago it appeared to be insecure, and two iron bars
were put on the outside, securing it in its position. There are courses
of stone upon it, falling back from the front surface, and making a
parapet to the tower. It was over this parapet that persons, head
downwards, held and aided by others, performed the task of kissing
the stone. A stairway on the inside leads nearly to the top of the
tower; but now, for a more convenient and safe way of performing the
operation, another stone, bearing date 1703, is kept within the tower.
Its magic is as effectual, while it is reached with comparative safety.
It is indeed marvellous that a few lines of worse than doggerel
poetry have materially aided in giving this stone a notoriety that is
world-wide, and which, but for this aid, would hardly have been heard
of outside of its neighborhood. It was long a superstitious belief that
whoever kissed it would ever after be in possession of such sweet,
persuasive, and convincing eloquence as to put the listener entirely
under the control of the speaker. Rev. Father Prout's allusion to the
stone is in part as follows:--
There is a stone there that whoever kisses,
Oh! he never misses to grow eloquent;
'Tis he may clamber to a lady's chamber,
Or become a member of Parliament.
A clever spouter he'll sure turn out, or
An out and outer, to be let alone!
Don't hope to hinder him or to bewilder him,
Sure he's a pilgrim from the Blarney Stone.
The grounds by which the castle are surrounded were once adorned with
statues, bridges, grottos, but all are now gone, and Father Prout
deplores the condition as follows:--
The muses shed a tear,
When the cruel auctioneer,
With his hammer in his hand to sweet Blarney came.
Blarney Lake is a beautiful piece of water, set in a charming framework
of trees and natural shrubbery, and is about five minutes' walk from
the castle. Tradition, handed down through many generations, has it
that at certain seasons a herd of white cows come up from the centre
of the lake, look admiringly but with a melancholy pleasure on the
ruined castle, for a few moments' graze on the lawns near it, and then
with a soldierly march retire to their oblivion-like resting-place,
there to remain till the time comes next year for their weird and
fairy-like visit. Another legend is--and this country abounds with
them--that the Earl of Chantry having forfeited the castle, and having
had it confiscated and ruined at the Revolution, carried his plate
and deposited it in a particular part of the lake, and that three
McCarthys, and they only, are in possession of the secret of the place
where it was cast in. When either of the three dies, he communicates
the intelligence to some other member of the family, and thus the
secret is kept, never to be publicly revealed till a McCarthy is again
Lord of Blarney.
Within the castle grounds runs the small River Coman, and on its banks
is an old Cromlech, or druidical altar; and there are also a number
of pillar-stones, similar to those at Stonehenge, on which are worn
inscriptions of ancient Ogham characters.
Differing as the place did from anything yet seen by us, and our
anticipations more than fulfilled, we, after a two hours' sojourn,
reluctantly mounted the jaunting-car and took our way back to Cork.
After dining at the Victoria, at half-past three of this same day, we
took steam-cars for the town of Killarney; and here we must speak of
the railroads.
As this was our first experience in travelling on one of them, we may
with propriety say something of them once for all; for one statement
applies to railroads, not only in Ireland, England, and Scotland, but
in all those parts of Europe where we have travelled. Solid are the
roadbeds, not troubled by frosts as ours are. Stone or iron are the
bridges, and of the most durable kind, often with brick abutments and
arches. Of course, at times, there are the bridges for common roads
that pass over them. The substantial tunnels are sometimes miles long.
There are well-made grass enbankments, nicely kept. The stations are
quite good and cleanly, and there is invariably an exquisite neatness
about the outside, where flower-patches and borders are carefully
cultivated. The restaurants are poor and uninviting. Especially is this
description true of England. Large and strong engines, on which is an
absence of superfluous decorations of brass, or costly-to-keep-clean
finish, are universal. The cars, as we say, but _coaches_ as they term
them, are of three classes, first, second, and third. The best of them
are undesirable to Americans, but submitted to in the absence of those
with which they are familiar.
Prices for travel vary. That of first-class is slightly more per mile
than in ours. The second-class is something less, or, on an average,
two thirds the cost of ours. Two cents per mile is the usual tariff.
Perhaps one quarter of the people ride first-class, and the remainder
are about equally divided between the second and third. The first-class
are what we may describe as from four to six common mail-stages, built
together as one, but wide enough for five persons on each seat. There
is a door in the middle, opening on the platforms, and of course half
of the passengers must ride backward. This is true also of the other
classes, with slight exceptions in some of the cars of Switzerland;
and even these, at their best, make an American homesick, and sigh
for those of his native land. A light, or window, in the doors, and
a small one at the end of each seat, is the universal rule. Second
and third-class cars are nearly alike, save perhaps that there are
cushions in the former, while there are none in the latter; though by
no means does the purchase of a second-class ticket ensure cushions.
The cars of these classes are straight-sided, like our freight cars,
with side doors and small windows like those of the first-class. There
are no fires, poor lights for night travel; no toilet saloons, nor any
conveniences as in ours. Once in, the door is shut by an official, and
usually locked till we land at the next station. In the cars of the
first two classes the partitions extend from floor to roof, with seats
against both sides; but in a few of the third-class there is simply a
wide rail for resting the back, or a partition of the same height. When
we saw any of these, though having it may be a second-class ticket,
we would, to be as homelike as possible, avail ourselves of them. One
does not object to second-class passage; and even the third is far from
being as questionable as at first thought, to one unused to travelling,
it might seem. It is generally the intensely aristocratic class,
of the _noli-me-tangere_ kind, who ride first-class,--or Americans
inexperienced in travel.
Officials are at all stations in abundance. They are ready
cheerfully--but in their own way, to be sure--to give any information
a traveller may require. In all parts of the Continent over which we
journeyed, we had no special trouble in understanding them, or in
making them understand us. So many English and Americans travel that
the employees soon learn how to reply to the usual questions put to
them. A little knowledge, however, of German and of French--as much as
applies to common things, and as may with a little exertion be learned
from most of the guide-books--helps the tourist amazingly. As regards
the time made by these railroads, we rode on some of them faster than
on ours at home, and are justified in saying that their promptness
of arrival at stations is incredible. The roads with which we are
conversant are in advance of ours in this respect. In but one instance
did we find a train late; and waiting at junctions for other trains was
apparently unknown. The conductors are expected to run their trains on
time, and they do so unless prevented by accidents. We have been thus
minute in stating the facts, as they are sure to be of interest to
persons contemplating a journey.
And now we pursue our way, having left Cork at 3 o'clock P.
M., towards Killarney and its famed lakes, which to us have all
the charms of the best Castles in the Air; for who that has thought of
the famous Lakes of Killarney has not fancied something good enough
for a place in the neighborhood of Eden in its palmy days? Tickets
in first-class cars cost us $2.25 each. After a ride of two hours we
arrive at Mallow, and after three hours more, at Killarney. The first
look of the town indicates a village well shaded with trees, and one is
led to anticipate anything but the reality.
The houses are built in the usual Irish style,--that is, they are of
plastered and whitewashed stone, and the roofs are thatched. Generally
they are not over one story in height, and a low story at that. They
stand on crooked and narrow streets--or alleys, rather. There is an
absence of cleanliness, and little to sustain distant impressions. One
of the things that early attract the tourist's attention is the general
poverty of many of the inhabitants, their lack of employment and
visible means of support. Beggars are bold and used to their calling;
and both they and the swarm of would-be guides are annoying if treated
with common civility. There is an ancient look about buildings and
people, and we get the suggestion that we see things as they were a
century ago. Nothing is new and fresh but the foliage. Everything has
the old odor of an ancient place.
The town has a population of 5,187, exclusive of 400 inmates of the
almshouse--one to every thirteen of the population. Killarney is
situated about a mile and a half from the nearest of the three lakes.
There are two or three streets of some pretensions, on which are
buildings three or four stories high, used as stores and hotels. Our
hotel, the Innisfallen House, was kept, as all such small taverns are,
by a woman. It was a thoroughly antiquated Irish institution, and for
this reason we selected it. Experienced by long years of practice, our
hostess was the _man_ of the house, and had an eye to business that
would do honor to the manager of the Vendome or the Brunswick at Boston.
There are few public buildings. The newish Roman Catholic Cathedral is
a large structure of limestone, of good early English architecture,
built from designs by Pugin. It is hardly in keeping with the town as
it is, and only the eye of faith can see its harmony with the Killarney
of the future.
Here may be related an incident illustrating a custom which is
doubtless a relic of other days. After our visit to the cathedral,
at about 7 P. M., we were surprised by the sight of a peculiar crowd
of people coming up the street we had entered. It was a procession,
numbering some hundred or more, carrying a coffin to the cathedral.
The coffin was oaken, moulded at the top and bottom edges with
black, and having three ornamental, black, iron plates--eight inches
square, with rings in them--on each side. Black, round-headed nails
ornamented the ends. The coffin was not covered, and rested on the
shoulders of six men, three on each side. As by magic, three bearers
would occasionally step out, and others take their places. Back of
those who headed the procession were two rows of women, from fifty to
seventy years old, with black dresses, and shawls over their heads.
These were howling, two or more at a time keeping up the noise; and
thus, without break or intermission, there was a continued wailing,
in syllables of a slow but measured and distinct utterance, sounding
like "Ar-ter-_ow_-ow-_ow_-er." This was repeated till the perfection of
monotony was attained.
When near the cathedral the procession halted and the wailing ceased.
The crowd numbered, it may be, a hundred. Arriving at the side door
the coffin was carried in, and about twenty persons, probably the near
relatives, entered. The remainder, including the Americans,--who, now
"being in Turkey, were doing as the Turkeys do,"--remained outside, and
stood or knelt uncovered. In a few moments all was ended; the friends
came out of the cathedral, the crowd dispersed, and "rag, tag, and
bobtail" resumed their usual vocations, the dead man having been left
in the building, with the approved and requisite number of candles "to
light him to glory."
Turning into another street, another and similar crowd was encountered.
This time the coffin was covered with black cloth, but decorated like
the other, with mouldings, nails, and iron plates. In five minutes more
came another. We were told the bodies were to remain in the cathedral
till to-morrow, when mass could be held and they would be buried. This
is a custom of the place each evening, and has been continued from time
immemorial. It results from bad judgment as to what is a good use of
the present, or what is a befitting preparation for the hereafter. It
is a type of superstition gone to seed, and shows a love for sitting in
"the region and shadow of death."
Now we ramble over the town, and through some of the well-kept and
stone-walled roads. In spite of the condition of the most populous
parts, there is a delight and charm in these suburbs. In that pleasant
evening air, within sound of the vesper bells, enveloped in the general
stillness of that village atmosphere, there came good and vivid
impressions of the antiquity of the place. Without an effort came the
remembrance that, through the past centuries, thousands and tens of
thousands of sight-seers, poets, historians, and people of great and
of small renown, had walked these streets, meditated, used the time as
we were doing, and passed on,--their feet never to press this historic
soil again,--
Like the snow-fall in the river,
A moment white, then melts forever.
The next morning we took a jaunting-car, and began our tour of the
lakes. A most elegant day it was, like good old George Herbert's
Sunday--the "bridal of the earth and sky." Admirable in all respects
were the roads and their surroundings,--a perpetual reminder of
worse kept ones at home. We pass an elegant stone building, the
Union Workhouse and County Lunatic Asylum, on the right, leaving the
cathedral on our left, and ride on through that lovely scenery. It is
not wild or romantic, in the common signification of those words.
On our right, off in the fields and on elevated ground, are the ruins
of Aghadoe, overlooking an immense valley, where reposes--out of sight
to us at our left, Lough Leane, the lower and largest of the three
celebrated lakes.
Next, three miles out, are the ruins of Aghadoe castle and church.
All that remains are the fragments of a tower thirty or forty feet
in height. Of its history, or the date of its foundation, no records
are extant. The church is a fine ruin, and shows the remains of a
long low building, consisting of two chapels, joined at their rear
ends. The easterly chapel is in the Gothic style, bearing date A.
D. 1158, and is dedicated to the Holy Trinity. Full seven hundred
years are gone, more than a third of the Christian era, since that
stone pile was placed where it is. The other chapel is older yet, of
a rude, Romanesque architecture, and was built under the patronage
of St. Finian. The two are separated by a solid wall, through which
there was once a communication, closed up long before the vacating and
destruction of the building. The roof and woodwork being gone, nothing
but stone remains. The two chapels, extending to the east and west, are
eighty feet long and twenty feet wide.
Continuing our ride a mile farther, we turn to the left, and pass the
Aghadoe House,--a fine and well-kept estate, the residence of the
Dowager Lady Headley. Next, we turn sharp to the right, and are at the
estate of James O'Connell, Esq., brother of the late distinguished
agitator, Daniel O'Connell. Continuing, we pass the Killalee House, and
the ruins of its church. Six and a half miles now from Killarney, we
have on our left, the elegant estate of Beaufort House.
We cross the little River Laune, which is filled with surplus water
from the small, or upper lake, and here appears to view Dunloe Castle,
the seat of Daniel Mahoney, Esq. The building has a modern look, and
was originally the residence of the powerful and noted O'Sullivan Mor.
We must not fail to notice the Cave of Dunloe. It is situated in a
field some distance off, is of great antiquity, and was discovered in
1838. It contains peculiar stones, which are presumed to belong to an
ancient Irish library; and, strange to say, the books are the large
stones composing the roof. Their angles contain the writings, which
are simple, short, vertical lines, arranged, tally-like, above and
below a horizontal one. Special numbers or combinations of these lines
designate letters. It is the Ogham alphabet.
We are now near the cottage of the celebrated Kate Kearney, whom Moore
has immortalized in his "Sweet Innisfallen,"--
"Kate Kearney,
Who lives on the banks of Killarney."
The house is solitary, and stands on the left of the roadside, with
high hills about it. It is but one story high, and is some forty feet
long, and twenty wide. It is made of stone, plastered and whitewashed,
has a thatched roof, and is occupied by the reputed granddaughter of
the famous Kate, and of course she bears the same name. On our arrival,
she appeared at her door as usual--an old woman of sixty years, of
small stature. She wore a short dress, heavy shoes, the inevitable
kerchief, or miniature shawl, folded diamond-ways over her shoulders,
and a frilled white muslin cap on her head. She held a mug in one
hand, and a common wine bottle in the other, with glass tumbler to
match. She poured out the goat's milk, and then naïvely, with an almost
young-maidenly tone of voice, asked: "And will ye not have put into it
a drop of the mountain dew?" We must, though total abstinence men, run
a bit of risk now, to do all that curious tourists do, so we said Yes.
A drop or two mingled with the milk, when the thought instantly came
that at home the dew would have been so like whiskey that we couldn't
convince ourselves it was not, and so we cried "Hold! Enough!" She
held, and it _was_ enough. A shilling was presented; but no, she had
done business too long, and her distinguished grandmother before her,
to be outgeneralled by Yankees, and so came a demand for more, which
was refused. Her maiden-like demure condition changed, and we left,
thinking discretion and valor were synonymous terms; and she, probably
of the same opinion, retired to try her luck with the next comer that
way.
And now we enter the Gap of Dunloe, one of the notable places of
Ireland. It is a narrow, wild, and romantic mountain pass, between
highlands known as Macgillicuddy's Reeks on the right, and Purple
Mountain on the left. The length of the pass is about four miles, and
the road is circuitous and hilly. At the side, and at times crossing
it, is a narrow stream called the Loe, at as many places expanded
into five small lakes, or pools. The mountain-sides are rocky and
often precipitous, and the road is here and there little more than a
cart-path, winding right and left romantically between these hills,
from which echoes finely the sound of our voices, or the bugle blown or
the musket fired by peasants for the tourists' amusement. The journey
is one thrillingly interesting, and about the only one of the kind that
can be made on the island.
One of the five lakes, each of which has a name, is called Black Lough;
and it is in this--a basin some one hundred feet long and thirty feet
wide, with walls of stone, partially filled with a dark water--that St.
Patrick is said to have banished the last snake. The guides have the
story at their tongue's end, and glibly relate it in a schoolboy-like
fashion, never tripping, nor leading one to so much as surmise that
they have not told the story before.
The team takes us but a short distance into the gap, and we avail
ourselves of animals called horses, who are ever on hand for the
purpose. The guides owning them have followed us for a mile or more, in
spite of our protestations, acting as though they knew we should hire
their beasts, although we had with business-like earnestness told them
that we thought we would walk. These animals were of a doubtful nature,
that would confuse Darwin. They were either high-grade mules with
short ears, or low-grade horses with long ones. We finally agreed with
the owners, paying fifty cents each for the _what-is-its_, the guides
engaging to take the animals back when we were done with them.
Emerging from the gap we come out at the Black Valley stretching
away to our left, and hemmed in, amphitheatre-like, by the base of
the hills. The first view of this sombre moor reminds one of the
heath-pictures in "Macbeth." Kohl says of it: "Had there been at
the bottom, among the rugged masses of black rock, some smoke and
flame instead of water, we might have imagined we were looking into
the infernal regions." We ride down a winding road in the great
amphitheatre, and along to its extremity, and are at the end of our
journey with the horses; and now we are to walk a half-mile through a
footpath, over fields and through pleasant groves, to the once fine
garden and present ruins of Lord Brandon's Cottage. Here, we are at
the upper lake; and our boatmen, by arrangement of the hostess at
Innisfallen House, were there awaiting our arrival at 1 P. M.
They had, as usual, gone direct from Killarney to the lower lake, and
had rowed over that and the two others to this point, having made, in
reversed order, the tour over the lakes we are to take.
At 1.30 P. M., Thursday, April 25, we are in the row-boat
with our two oarsmen, starting from the shore of the upper lake which
is the smallest of the three,--a sheet of water two and a half miles
long, three fourths of a mile wide, and covering 430 acres, being about
two thirds as large as the middle lake, and only a little more than a
twelfth as large as the lower one. And here we must say, what of choice
we would not say, that in most instances, where the imagination has
free play, realities do not fulfil anticipations.
The fulsome and unqualified praises which have been bestowed on these
really beautiful and justly celebrated lakes incline one to expect
too much, and to overestimate their sublimity. This element, so ever
present on the lakes of Scotland, is here often lacking. There is,
however, a cleanliness in the remarkably irregular outline of their
shores, and a beautiful decoration made by varying tinted and luxuriant
vegetation, that largely compensates for a lack of vast boldness, and
of great and precipitous rocky walls; and enough mountain views are in
the near distance to give the scenery a majestic appearance, at times
even grand in general effect. The heavy woodlands, with here and there
a craggy cliff, as at the Eagle's Nest, combine to produce a charm not
found about ordinary lakes. Yet it must in justice be said that our
Lake George, and parts of Winnepiseogee, are their equals.
The upper lake, at its westerly end, contains twelve islands, which in
the aggregate cover six acres,--none of them, however, containing more
than one acre, and some of them less than a quarter of one. McCarthy's
is the one first reached. Arbutus is another, and the largest in the
lake. It takes its name from the shrub, _arbutus unendo_. The leaves
are a glossy green, and so arranged at the ends of the branches, that
the waxen, flesh-like blossoms, as they hang in graceful racemes, or
the later crimson fruit, seem embraced by a mantle of the richest
verdure. All the islands abound in ivy, and the rocks and trees are
often thoroughly bedecked with it. This lake is surely the finest of
the three, and is so mainly from the fact of its having these islands
and the great irregularity of the shore, embellished by the beautiful
accompanying foliage. Being more immediately in the vicinity of the
highlands, it has much of stern mountain effect and grandeur. From
some points of view this little sheet of water appears to be entirely
land-locked. Towards the lower end it becomes narrow, and is only a
strip of water half a mile long. This is called Newfoundland Bay. On
from this it is a yet narrower stream, varying from thirty to one
hundred feet wide, and two miles long, which is the connecting part
with the middle lake. To add a fascination, and intensify the interest
of the tourist, every rock of respectable dimensions, and every island
or cove, has its high-sounding name; for we pass Coleman's Eye, the Man
of War, the Four Friends. We now arrive at the Eagle's Nest, a craggy
formation 700 feet above the water, in the rugged clefts of which
the eagle builds its eyrie. The young birds are taken from the nest
between the middle of June and the first of July, and the rocks are so
precipitous that the nests are only reached by means of ropes let down
from above.
The echoes from this and the surrounding rocks are very fine, and we
hear them grandly repeated from hilltop to hilltop--ever continued, and
passed on with a clearly perceptible interval, till, weaker and weaker
by their long, rough travel, they grow fainter, and at last melt away
in some unknown cavern, or, as it were, infinitely distant glen, and
are lost in the great realm of nothingness from whence they came.
Continuing on, we reach a fairy-like place, the Meeting of Waters,
where our river, arriving at the middle lake, glides to the left
around the end of Dinish Island, which reaches from, and is bounded
by, this and the lower lake. Now we are at the Old Weir Bridge, very
antiquated,--consisting of two unequal arches, through which the water
rushes with great earnestness and force. The boatmen do nothing but
guide the boat, and it is a moment of intense interest to the novice,
as we dash under one of the arches. Soon we are in the middle, or, as
it is called, the Mucross, or Torc Lake.
This contains 680 acres, or forty more than a square mile. The
principal islands are the Dinish and the Brickeen, and these are in
fact the side and end walls, or the dividing barrier between it and the
lower lake. There are three passages between them. This lake is oblong
and narrow. In a line nearly straight we pass to the high, Gothic,
single-arched bridge connecting it with the lower lake. Brickeen
contains 19 acres, and is twenty or more feet up from the lake, and
well wooded. Dinish is also well wooded. It contains 34 acres, and is
a sort of watering-place. It has a small, rough, rustic stone wharf;
also a cottage-hotel with pleasure-grounds; and by making previous
arrangements dinner may be had.
Our provident hostess, having an eye to our comfort and another to her
income, had sent by the boatmen a basket of luncheon, and so we dined
on the lake itself, and not on the shore of it. Of the beauty of Torc
Lake much may be said. It has a charm peculiarly its own. Shut in with
a considerably uniform wall-work of islands, it is an immense pool of
clear water, in which the overhanging shrubbery is finely reflected.
Its air of repose and quiet beauty makes it of interest to persons of
a retiring nature, and those to whom the vastness of mountain scenery
does not so pleasantly appeal.
We now pass under the great Gothic arch of Brickeen Bridge, and are
in Lough Leane, or the lower lake. It has an area of five thousand
acres, being five miles long, and three wide, with a very irregular
shore, comprising, high and low lands, coves and inlets, a few mountain
recesses, and a great variety of pleasing scenery. Its islands are
thirty in number, few of which, however, measure more than an acre
in extent. The largest are Rabbit Island, of more than twelve acres,
and Innisfallen, of twenty-one acres. Many of them have a fancied
resemblance to particular things, and so are named Lamb, Elephant, Gun,
Horse, Crow, Heron, Stag. The chief beauties of this great sheet of
water are its generally placid surface, the mountains bordering it on
the south and west, and its unlikeness to either of the others, in its
low lands, and its estates stretching off to the north and east. It
abounds in quiet nooks, bays, and inlets, breaking its margin; and the
barren rocks on one side contrast finely with the verdure of the shore
on the other.
Sir Walter Scott has given a magic charm to Loch Katrine by reciting
its legends; but, had he been so disposed, he could have given a like
halo to these lakes, for legends of O'Donoghue and of the McCarthys
abound, and supply such romantic materials as few countries can boast.
As a sample we quote but one:--
Once in seven years, on a fine morning, before the sun's rays have
begun to disperse the mist from the bosom of the lake, O'Donoghue
comes riding over it on an elegant snowwhite horse, with fairies
hovering about him, and strewing his path with flowers. As he
approaches his ancient residence, everything resolves itself
into its original condition and magnificence; the castle itself,
banquet halls, library, his prison, and his pigeon house, are as
they were in the olden time. Any one who desires, and is courageous
enough to follow him over the lake, may cross even the deepest
parts dry-footed, and ride with him into the caves of the adjoining
mountains, where his treasures are deposited and concealed; and
the daring visitor will receive a liberal gift for his company and
venture, but before the sun has arisen, and in the early twilight,
O'Donoghue recrosses the water, and vanishes amid the ruins of the
castle, to be seen no more till the next seven years have expired.
The part of the lake first entered is called Glena Bay, and as the
opposite shore, some three miles away, is low, the distant surface of
the lake seems to melt into the horizon, producing an effect not made
by either of the other lakes. Here on the little bay's shore is the
picturesque cottage of Lady Kenmare; and in the woods and highlands,
which for a couple and more miles bound the western shore of the lake,
are red deer, and the place was once a famous hunting-ground.
We pursue our course, not stopping at O'Sullivan's Cascade, a waterfall
consisting of three sections, situated a short distance back in the
forest; nor do we go over to Innisfallen Island, distant but two miles
to our left and in full view, though it is remarkably interesting on
account of historical associations.
Of all the islands of the lakes it is the most picturesque and
beautiful. It contains glades and lawns, thickets of flowering shrubs
and evergreens, with an abundance of arbutus and hollies of great
size and beauty, and also oak and ash trees of magnificent foliage
and growth. Innisfallen contains about twenty-one acres, and commands
one of the most desirable and lovely views of the entire lake and
surrounding mountain scenery. The most interesting object on it,
however, is the grand ruin of the ancient abbey, founded in the year
600, by St. Finian.
In this celebrated place the strange and interesting "Annals of
Innisfallen" were composed. They contain fragments of the Old
Testament, and a compendious, though not very valuable, annual history
down to the time of St. Patrick, and one more perfect from the
fourth to the fourteenth century. The originals, written more than
five hundred years ago, are now in the Bodleian Library at Oxford. A
translation of this work has been repeatedly attempted, but has never
been far enough advanced to issue from the press. The Annals are a
special record of Munster, but are filled with a dry record of great
crimes and their punishment, wars, lists of princes and clergy, and
elaborate accounts of the disputes and violent deaths of the ancient
kings of Kerry. They record that in 1180, seven hundred years ago, the
abbey was the place of securest deposit for all the gold and silver,
and the rare and rich goods of the country; that it was plundered by
Mildwin, son of Daniel O'Donoghue, as was also the church of Ardfert;
and that many persons were slain in the cemetery of the McCarthys.
In parting, the temptation is resistless to quote the lines of Moore
relating to this renowned and beautiful place:--
Sweet Innisfallen, fare thee well,
May calm and sunshine long be thine;
How fair thou art, let others tell,
While but to _feel_ how fair be mine.
Sweet Innisfallen, long shall dwell
In memory's dream that sunny smile,
Which o'er thee, on that evening fell,
When first I saw thy fairy isle.
We next pass on towards our place of landing. Before us and not far
off is Ross Island, situated on the eastern shore of the lake. It is
not really an island, but a peninsula, which at times of high water,
however, is difficult to reach without crossing a bridge. The place
has a finished look, having good lawns and many well-kept avenues and
walks. In 1804 a copper mine was opened on it, and for a time afforded
a large quantity of rich ore. Croker asserts that during the four years
it was worked, $400,000 worth of ore was disposed of at Swansea, at
a valuation of $200 per ton, and he informs us that "several small
veins of oxide of copper split off the main lode and ran towards the
surface. The ore of these veins was much more valuable than the other,
and consequently the miners--who were paid for the quality as well as
quantity--opened the smaller veins so near the surface that water broke
through into the mine, in such an overwhelming degree that an engine
of thirty-horse power could make no impression on the inundation." The
work was then abandoned. No doubt exists that these mines had been
worked in times of antiquity, perhaps by the Danes; for while working
them in 1804, rude stone hammers were found, and other unequivocal
proofs of preoccupation at an early time.
Ross Castle is a commanding and conspicuous object, standing isolated
near the shore, on comparatively level land. It is visible from almost
every part of the lake. This castle is generally visited from the land,
and is less than two miles from the town of Killarney. Though now in
ruins, it has a massive square tower and appendages of considerable
size, and is of pleasing outline. The dark stone walls are in good
preservation, and well decorated with ivy, which gives the ruin a most
stately, yet romantic and picturesque effect.
The grounds are well kept, and are free to the public; though a small
optional fee is in order to the lass who comes out of her cottage near
by, unlocks the door of the great tower, and, with a tongue not very
glib, tells what little she knows of local history. The castle was
built by the O'Donoghues, and was long occupied by that celebrated
family. In 1652 it was well defended; at the Revolution it held out
long against the English invaders, and was the last one in Munster to
surrender. On the 26th of July of that year Lord Muskerry, then holding
a commission of colonel under the Irish, being hard pushed, occupied
the castle, and defended himself against Lord Ludlow; and it was not
until he brought vessels of war (in history called _ships_) by the
lake, that the surrender was made. An old legend existed,--and legends
are powerful for good or for ill,--that Ross Castle was impregnable
till ships of war attacked it. These were brought, it may be, to take
advantage of the superstition. When they were in view, the heart of the
inmates of the fortress failed; they were paralyzed with superstitious
fear, and could not be induced to strike another blow. Lord Ludlow, in
his Memoirs, thus tells the story:--
We had received our boats [these were probably the _ships_], each
of which was capable of containing one hundred and twenty men. I
ordered one of them to be rowed about the water, in order to find
out the most convenient place for landing upon the enemy, which they
perceiving, thought fit, by timely submission, to prevent the danger
threatened them.
After the surrender five thousand Munster men laid down their arms, and
Lord Broghill, who had accompanied Ludlow, received a grant of £1,000
($5,000) yearly out of the estate of Lord Muskerry, the defender of the
castle.
We have ended our tour over the lakes, and have visited these justly
celebrated ruins, and are now ready for a walk of three quarters of
an hour to our hotel at Killarney. To say that we enjoyed the day,
even beyond our most sanguine anticipations, would not overcolor the
picture. The drive of the morning through that sublime old scenery, to
us so new; the ever fresh and pleasing emotions continually awakened;
the romantic ride through the Gap of Dunloe, where the mountains are
so near us, and we so near them; Kate's cottage; the Inferno-like look
of the Black Valley; the walk to the upper lake, and the fairy-like
sail over its waters,--all these recollections are enough for one day.
At 6 P. M., as the sun declined, and the mellow tints of its
evening rays were thrown aslant the waters, we wended our way home. Yet
were we not entirely content, but must make one more tour, this time to
Muckross Abbey.
CHAPTER III.
MUCKROSS ABBEY--LIMERICK--DUBLIN.
The time for visiting Muckross Abbey is most auspicious, the sun being
still above the horizon; and the approaching tranquillity befits a trip
of the kind. The ruins we have before inspected have been castles,
or fort-like structures, designed as a home for some royal family,
yet sufficiently strong and impregnable to ward off the attacks of a
formidable enemy. What we are now to see is not a place designed for
ease, comfort, and defence against ill conditions in this life, but
rather to ensure pleasure and safety in the life to come.
The spot is about five miles from Killarney, and owned by Mr. Herbert,
a gentleman held in the highest esteem by rich and poor. There is a
neat gate-lodge, beyond which the visitor finds gratuitous admission at
any hour before 6 P. M.; after that, and properly enough, a
shilling is due to the gatekeeper. Our team left outside the gate, we
pass through a grand avenue, and soon opens to view one of the finest
and most enchanting mediæval ruins to be found in Ireland,--exquisitely
interesting in every part, and beyond the power of any one to
adequately describe. The ruins are on a large knoll, surrounded by
trees, conspicuous among which is the yew. These trees are formed
much like large cedars, and resemble them in general outline; but the
foliage is dark-green, so dark as at first sight to appear almost
black. The branches are very large, and spread out into flat or fanlike
masses, to near the ground.
The abbey was founded in 1140, and is now 742 years old. As we examine
it, and more especially an ancient yew-tree, surrounded by the
cloisters, known to have been there for more than 600 years, we are
deeply impressed with the thought that we are communing with things
relating to long past generations. It had its last repairs in 1602, was
soon after abandoned, and is now without a roof, but is otherwise in
good preservation. The ruins are very large and varied. They consist
of both an abbey and a church. The cloisters belong to the former, and
form a stone colonnade, some ten feet wide, connected by the arches
with the open-to-the-sky area, some seventy-five feet square, in the
centre of which stands the venerable yew already mentioned.
In the retirement and obscurity of these cloisters, walked and
meditated and prayed hundreds,--and in the large aggregate of years it
may be thousands,--to whom no other spot on the broad earth was, in
their judgment, so good and befitting for their pious purpose. Here
for centuries piety intensified, was transformed into superstition,
germinated, blossomed, and fruited.
The different rooms of the abbey are still in good preservation, the
entire structure being of masonry. The kitchen, with its immense
fireplace, appears as it was centuries ago; and a little room about
six feet square in one of the towers, and opening out of the kitchen,
was occupied for eleven years as a sleeping-room by the hermit, John
Drake, a hundred or more years ago. His patriarchal demeanor and solemn
yet cheerful aspect obtained for him a people's veneration, and his
piety and general seclusion excited general interest. To this day he
is spoken of with scarcely less esteem than would be one of the early
monks of the abbey itself. The floors of the rooms in the second story,
the building being roofless, are well overgrown with the finest lawn
grass. As one walks thoughtfully up the narrow, winding, stone stairs,
into the dormitory, hospital, lavatory and other apartments,--in all
but few in number,--the solid and venerable walls, the open sky above
him, and the green grass (emblematic of human life in its best estate)
beneath his feet,--under the influence of these, in spite of himself
he becomes absorbed in meditation, and holds communion with those who
lived and labored here centuries ago, and at length passed on to "the
house appointed for all the living."
Reluctantly we left the abbey, and walked through the antique
passage-ways and cramped stone stairway down into the church, where,
in the midst of singular beauty, were the unwelcome evidences of
inevitable decay. Here are the roofless walls of the nave, choir,
and transept; here are windows elegant in design, with their stone
traceries yet perfect. In places, the friendly, sombre ivy is spread,
like a kind mantle of charity, covering defects of broken wall, and
disguising the empty place of some fallen stone.
"How old all material is," we instinctively say; and yet how new the
results of labor,--the vine, the shrub, the tree. How velvety and
carpet-like is the grass on parts of this very floor, once pressed by
the toil-worn, blistered feet of pious penance-doers, and even now a
place of deposit for their mouldering bodies. Instead of desk or altar
or font, of kingly stall or peasant's seat, are ancient mural stones.
Here are monuments, the outward tokens of reverence and respect for the
blue blood of royalty, or the saintship of those who hundreds of years
ago--their work done, the checkered scenes of life over--went down to
the "silent mansions of the dead."
In the piscina, in the lavatory, in the place for sacred vessels,
the swallow unscared builds its nest; and along the altar-steps
the lizard crawls, or basks in the sunshine unalarmed. Here sleep
in their low, common--and yet _uncommon_--resting-places, they of
the old dispensation, side by side with men of the new. O'Sullivan,
O'Donohue, Mc'Carthy--nobles and kings of Munster, before whom the
multitude trembled and reverentially bowed--mingle their dust with
nineteenth-century leaders.
An incident, showing a notable instance of faithfulness in the
performance of an agreement, may be related. At the time of the
surrender of these ruins, it was stipulated that, in consideration
of the fact of their being the repository of dust so peculiar and
sacred, no Protestant should ever be buried within these walls; and
while it would otherwise have been the choice of the late owner of the
premises--Mr. Herbert the elder, Member of Parliament for Kerry and
Chief Secretary of Ireland--to be here buried, this was not done. On
elevated grounds outside the abbey precincts, a very large, ornamental,
mediæval, granite cross was erected by subscription of both Catholics
and Protestants as a mark of love and esteem for him whom they call
"One of the best of men."
Muckross Abbey Mansion, not far away, the seat of H. A. Herbert,
Esq., the present owner of the grounds, is a fine stone building, of
Elizabethan architecture. We knew of the Torc Cascade not far off;
but as darkness had imperceptibly come upon us, and we were informed
that little water was then passing over the fall, we did not go there,
but listened to a description from our guide, who told us that the
waters are precipitated in a sheet of splendid foam over a ledge of
rocks, breaking into mist and spray; that the volume of water then
resumes its hurried course through a deep ravine, narrow and irregular,
through groups of fir and pine trees, and at last crosses the beautiful
pleasure-grounds, till it falls into Muckross Lake.
At no time shall we probably have a more appropriate place to speak
of the mountains of Ireland; and, at the risk of being charged with
digression, we make the venture. Ireland is not a prairie-like country;
yet, though for the most parts hilly and undulatory, it cannot be
called mountainous. In this vicinity are the principal mountains of
the Emerald Isle. It was for a long time thought that Mangerton, of
the Macgillicuddy's Reeks, was the highest peak in Ireland, but a late
survey makes Carrantual, of the same range, the highest. They are
respectively 2,756 and 3,414 feet high. For the aid of those who may
not be able to judge heights readily, yet are familiar with our New
England mountains, we will say that the Grand Monadnock, at Jaffrey, N.
H., is 3,186 feet high, and the Wachusett, at Princeton, Mass., 2,018
feet. The distance from Muckross to the summit of Carrantual is not far
from five miles. The ascent is easy, and may be made with horses. Four
miles from Muckross is what is called the Devil's Punch Bowl, a tarn or
mountain lake, 2,206 feet above the level of the sea, and more than two
thousand feet above the surface of the lakes, they being not far from
two hundred feet above sea-level. It is an ovalish basin containing
about twenty-eight acres, being two thirds the size of Boston Common,
the latter having within its fence lines an area of a few feet over
forty-three and three fourths acres. On all sides of the tarn are
shelving cliffs. History has it that C. J. Fox swam entirely around it
in 1772. Purple Mountain, opposite Macgillicuddy's Reeks, with the Gap
of Dunloe between, is somewhat lower than these, but we have not the
figures of its elevation. After our visit to the abbey, we returned to
the hotel--in name only, Innisfallen--and remained over night. Having
breakfasted, valise in hand we wended our way back through the village
streets to the railroad station, and took passage to Limerick.
"And sure," says the reader, "that is another Irish city,
and no mistake," and you are right. Our ride was exceedingly
pleasant. The country was at its best, so far as vegetation was
concerned,--especially its grass, for cattle-raising is the general
farm occupation of the people. Here and there was a patch of potatoes,
but no fruit-trees, and few good vegetable gardens. There were no stone
walls or fences; if there were any land divisions they were hedges, and
few at that.
The more one travels in foreign countries, the more he is convinced
of the folly of so much fence-work as we have on New England farms.
It is a waste of labor and material, an abuse of the ground itself,
and a loss of the land, usually uncultivated, lying close against the
partitions; and, in addition, the shade is objectionable. Of course
some divisions are needed; but many of them exist, as a necessity, only
in the farmer's imagination. There are but few New England farms where
a large amount of labor and time are not worse than wasted in repairs
of cross walls, set up by our fathers and grandfathers, which would be
used to a much better purpose if employed in their demolition.
LIMERICK.
After a ride of five hours, having on the way passed back through
Mallow, we arrived in Limerick, where we took rooms at the Royal George
Hotel. Valises deposited, and the usual toilet operations gone through
with, we walk out to see this place, so like Cork and Dublin. Limerick
is the capital of the county of Limerick. It is on a narrow arm of the
sea, or mouth of the River Shannon, with a population of 49,670. It
consists of an English town, built on an island of the Shannon, and
also an Irish one; and it has a suburb called Newton Perry, on the left
bank of the river. These three portions are connected by five bridges,
one of which, the Wellesley Bridge, cost $425,000.
We were pleasantly surprised with the appearance of the place, with the
cleanness of the streets, and their good pavements, and the general
order and substantial condition of all we saw. We speak now of the
English portion, which is in fact the larger and principal division
of the place. The surface is level, and the buildings are mostly of
dark-colored brick. They are generally three or four stories high,
without decoration, save simple brick cornices and arched doorways to
the houses. There are solid and plainly finished fronts to the stores.
The streets are of strikingly uniform appearance, presenting only here
and there anything to attract notice. It has its slums like Cork; but
of these we need not speak now.
We next begin our walk to the cathedral, for this was the first of the
cathedrals we had reached. The greater part of the edifice, as it now
stands, was built during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and so
is six hundred years old. We readily found it, and came to one of the
iron gates leading to the burial-ground in front of it. The dark and
antiquated look of the old, massive structure impressed us favorably,
and touched the right chord. We had seen castles and abbeys in fine
ruin, but they belonged to a dead past. We were hungering for something
ancient in which the living present was playing its part, and nothing
feeds this hunger so well as a cathedral, especially those that, at the
Reformation, passed over from Catholicism to Protestantism, as this has
done.
After demonstrations at the iron gate the verger soon appeared,
coming from the cathedral tower some hundred or more feet away. This
burial-ground is the principal way of access to the cathedral, and
has good walks from the gates to the edifice. The entire ground,
perhaps a half-acre in extent, is neat and well kept, and has many
ancient-looking gravestones and low slab-monuments. Our verger was a
portly man of some sixty years, a master of the situation. An adept at
the business, he soon understood our case and our nationality, and we
thought we understood him. Both parties being in good humor and knowing
their business, we proceeded from point to point over the edifice, he
all the time trying to earn his fee of a shilling each, and we aiding
him as best we could, by seeming to pay respectful attention, yet doing
as much thinking outside of his thoughts as we chose, and in our own
way.
The cathedral is large and imposing to view from the outside, irregular
in outline, and antique-looking in the extreme. It is built of a
dark-dinged, brownish colored stone, and is of Gothic architecture. It
has a tower one hundred and twenty feet high, but no spire above it.
At the time of our visit the building was under process of extensive
restorations of the interior.
There are many ancient monuments in the various parts of the building,
some of them centuries old. It would be interesting to allude freely to
them, but our limits will not permit. One illustration must suffice,
and that is quoted for its simplicity and quaintness. It was read
off by our guide with a promptness and precision, both of words and
declamation, that suggested familiarity, and that we were by no means
the first who had heard it.
MEMENTO MORY
HERE LIETH LITTELL SAMVELL
BARINGTON THAT GREAT VNDER
TAKER OF FAMIOVS CITTIS
CLOCK AND CHIMS MAKER
HE MADE HIS ONE TIME GOE
ERLY AND LATTER BVT NOW
HE IS RETVRNED TO GOD HIS CREATOR
THE 19 OF NOVEMBER THEN HE
SCEST AND TO HIS MEMORY
THIS HERE IS PLEAST BY HIS
SON BEN 1693.
After a good examination of the venerable edifice and its appendages
below, we ascended the tower, our verger accompanying,--for which an
extra shilling each must be paid. From here we had an admirable view of
the city; but nothing seen from above, or inside the cathedral below,
interested us more than the chime of bells in the tower. Wherever the
English language is spoken, these bells receive honorable mention, for
it is these to which reference is made in that plaintive but sweet
poetry,--and who has not sympathized with its sentiment?--
"Those evening bells, those evening bells,
How many a tale their music tells."
There are eight of them, each hung with a wheel to aid its ringing.
Four of them are old, and the others comparatively new. The largest
weighs about three thousand pounds.
Having said something in regard to the business part of the city
and cathedral, we next take a look at other parts of the former,
and consider a few items of history. Newton Perry, the new section,
contains wide streets and promenades, and on these are fine residences
of wealthy inhabitants, many of whom are merchants doing business in
the city proper, which we will now speak of. George Street, a grand
thoroughfare, continues on one side through Richmond Place to the
Military Walk, and on the other along Patrick Street, through Rutland
Street, to Matthew Bridge--named in honor of Father Matthew, the
apostle of Temperance. Henry and Catherine streets are also important.
In Perry Square is a column surmounted by a statue to Lord Monteagle,
and in Richmond Place there is a bronze statue of Daniel O'Connell.
St. John's Cathedral, Roman Catholic, completed in 1860, is a Gothic
edifice, erected at a cost of $85,000.
The principal industries of the place are the manufacture of flax,
army-clothing, lace, and gloves. The city carries on an extensive
traffic, and, having hundreds of well-stocked stores, it is the
wholesale as well as retail market for towns of the vicinity. There is
at the border of the city the remains of a castle built in the time of
King John, a somewhat dilapidated, but still noble structure. It has
seven massive towers, which are connected by a wall of great thickness,
and affords an example of the best Norman strongholds of the country,
if not of the world, and inside the castle walls are buildings used as
barracks.
The castle is situated in the Irish part of the city. Here are narrow
and unclean streets, and a low grade of population, many of whom
live in destitution; though, so far as degradation is concerned, we
found less than in Cork. What struck us forcibly in this section
was the number of buildings--one or two, and even three stories
high--dilapidated, abandoned, and without roofs. They were the rule and
not the exception. There seemed to be a dislike on the part of owners
to take down an old house; but when, in the last extremity, it became
absolutely unfit for a day's more occupancy, they preferred to abandon
it, and let it tumble down piecemeal. On the floors, in holes in the
walls, about the chimneys, weeds were growing, and especially the not
inappropriately named snapdragon. Fine specimens of these, of all the
usual colors, were in full bloom and growing luxuriantly.
Having spoken of the Irish and English parts of Ireland, an explanation
may be in order. Soon after the union of the two countries at the
beginning of the present century, English people of wealth and
influence established themselves in the principal cities of Ireland.
They built stores and dwelling-houses, and it is safe to say that
now two thirds of each large city are occupied by English people,
the Irish inhabitants remaining in their old quarters. This large
preponderance of English influence and life gives to Ireland's large
cities an English look, and it is only when one enters the Irish part
that he feels he is not in an English town. This is notably true of
Cork, Limerick, Dublin, and other southern cities; while Belfast and
Londonderry, at the north, have had so much commerce and exchange of
thought with Scotland as well as England, as almost to transform their
citizens into English people.
In Limerick may be seen Norman walls and remains in abundance, some
of them a thousand years old. The harbor is sufficiently capacious to
accommodate a large amount of shipping, and extends a mile along the
river, which has a breadth of four hundred and fifty feet, with here
and there a semi-basin or dock.
Limerick was the last place of Ireland which surrendered to English
rule, and only submitted to the Parliamentarians, under Ireton in 1651,
after a determined resistance and gallant defence. During a siege in
1691 a large gun was planted on the top of the cathedral tower, and
rendered most effectual service. "Muscular Christianity" was then at a
premium. The old city has experienced and withstood many sieges, the
last of which were those under Cromwell and William III. After several
repulses, William, in 1691, offered advantageous terms to the besieged
which were accepted by the troops then under the command of Sarsfield,
Earl of Lucen, and the surrender was made to General De Ginkle. Part
of the treaty was signed here, on a stone now called the Treaty Stone
which, for safety and as a monument of interest, is now kept on a
pedestal at the end of Thomond Bridge. The treaty guaranteed to Roman
Catholics certain religious privileges and rights, and promised amnesty
to all who took the oath of allegiance; but it was afterwards, to the
disgrace of the victors, recklessly broken, especially in regard to the
points first named, and to this day the place is called "the city of
the broken treaty."
Limerick has from time immemorial been a military seat, and is now the
headquarters of the southwest military district. Anciently it was the
royal residence of the Irish kings.
There are within the limits of the city over twenty places of worship.
It has many charitable and educational institutions, and much
enterprise and business activity. Save the old and slummish portion,
which is not of very great extent, and is under comparatively good
control, it has a thoroughly English look, or, perhaps we may say,
an old American look. We greatly enjoyed our visit, and were happily
disappointed; for our minds were disabused of opinions we before
erroneously entertained, and supposed to be true, concerning this
famous city.
DUBLIN.
At 1.30 P. M., on Friday, April 26, we left for Dublin, and
after a ride of four hours reached that city. The landscape on the way
was interesting, though not presenting anything very picturesque or
romantic. We were, however, continually impressed with the fact that
Ireland is well named the Emerald Isle; for not a bare acre is to be
seen, and over hill and dale luxuriant vegetation is found.
We could but feel sorry that the laws of primogeniture and entailment
of property yet prevail, and that England thus deprives herself and
poor Ireland, her disconsolate child, of the rich blessings of an
interested and land-loving, as well as soil-working people. The land
is owned by a few lords. Estates must be kept entire, and so handed
down through the male heirs from generation to generation. No absolute
sale is possible, and a homestead can rarely be bought. The farm, be it
little or great, cannot be owned by the tiller, but is held by the lord
of the domain. An estate may not be divided among his descendants, but
must pass to each successive heir in its entirety. It cannot be sold to
those who would use it and improve its value. Without homesteads, with
no prospect of anything but unsatisfying labor, with scarce the surety
of earning a scanty subsistence,--there is, among the common people, a
lack of interest in agricultural efforts. Thousands of laborers leave
this land, the fairest on which God's impartial sun shines; few are
left to care for the soil; and so, as the shortest cut across this
field of deliberately created difficulty, nearly all the land is laid
down to grass. In our ride of more than one hundred miles, hardly one
fruit-tree was seen, or one nice garden. The country suffers for want
of skilled yeomanry, to whom anticipation of ownership of the soil is
"a cloud by day, and a pillar of fire by night," to pilot them out of
the bondage they are in. The laws of justice and divine compensation
are, however, at work, and change for the better is at hand; amendment
after amendment, even now foreshadowed, will come, for He who ruleth
over all will "turn and overturn," "till he whose right it is shall
reign."
But to return to the Queen City of Ireland,--its greatest place
socially and commercially speaking.
Dublin is finely situated at the head of Dublin Bay. It is built
solidly, on comparatively level land, on both sides of the River
Liffey, running from west to east. The city has a population of
242,722; including the adjoining suburb, 295,841. The river is
navigable to Carlisle Bridge at the centre of the city, and from the
mouth of the river up to the bridge it has good docks and wharves.
Its commerce is varied and extensive. Unfortunately there was at the
entrance of the harbor a sand-bar, on which, at low water, the depth
varied from nine to twenty-four feet. This is now no great source of
annoyance, as a portion of it has been removed, and large ships, taking
advantage of the tides, may come up to the wharves.
A great part of the city is regularly built, having wide and well-paved
streets, and magnificent stores and public buildings. They are of
splendid architecture, and of every style and kind, from the classic
Greek and Roman, to the elegant Renaissance, and from the Gothic of
antiquity to the most refined of our own day. The latter, however, in
its best estate,--save perhaps in its new grouping and combination
of the best of the old ideas, with a rejection of the questionable
features--is not much in advance of its original sources.
Like all large places, there is a slum where the people are poor and
low; but in these respects Dublin is not the equal of Cork and some
other parts of Southern Ireland.
As we go north towards Belfast and Londonderry we find an advance in
what constitutes a higher and better civilization. The influence of the
people of the North of England, and more especially of Scotland, has
modified it. It may be said that where inflexible Episcopacy, acting
on Catholicism, has prevailed, different results have come. While the
good but ignorant Catholic has no affinity for Presbyterianism, he
has a great respect for the industrious, well-appearing, just-dealing
Scotchman, and he entertains an active suspicion in regard to the more
formal Episcopalian, who has ruthlessly, as he thinks, appropriated the
grand old churches where rest the bones of revered saints, and where
his fathers worshipped for many generations. Some especial influence
certainly has modified Northern Ireland's action, nature, and life.
There is a deal more implied in the phrase North of Ireland, and in its
antithesis, Far-downer, than appears to the casual observer. There is
no city of Ireland where wealth and poverty are more contiguous, and
where aristocracy and democracy are nearer neighbors, than at Dublin.
Nine bridges, two of which are iron, cross the river, and a magnificent
avenue nine miles long, called the Circular Road, environs the city.
The Bank of Ireland, near the college, is a low but very large
building, and was once the House of Parliament. Trinity College
opposite--and both are in the very centre of the most crowded business
portion of the city--has fine stone buildings, with large and elegantly
kept lawns, one opening into the other. The institution was founded
by Pope John XXII., closed by Henry VIII., and reopened by Queen
Elizabeth, who incorporated it in 1592.
Of the many public buildings, such as hospitals, museums, libraries,
it is useless to speak. They are noble institutions, and worthy the
capital of even England itself. It has a very large pleasure-ground
called Phoenix Park, on the edge of the city. This park is well laid
out, and is for Dublin what Central Park is for New York, or Fairmount
for Philadelphia. There is in it one of the largest and most admirably
kept zoölogical gardens of the world. Glasnevin Cemetery, their Mount
Auburn or Greenwood, is an elegant city of the dead. Here repose the
remains of Daniel O'Connell, under a high, round tower visible from all
parts of the grounds. The profusion of sweet-scented lime-trees, and
the taste and beauty of the scenery and artificial work, enable it to
vie with any cemetery in Europe. In a city like Dublin, where there is
so much that is good and great, one is tempted to enlarge the range of
his thoughts, and is loth to leave the spot.
Before speaking of the Cathedral of St. Patrick, we will give a brief
history of cathedral service itself. Till the time of Constantine,
Christians were not allowed to erect temples. Early, churches meant
only assemblies, not buildings; and by cathedrals were meant their
consistories, or places of meeting. It was in 312 that this emperor
first granted absolute toleration to Christians. In 325 the Council of
Nice was convened, and made, under his sanction, an open declaration
that Christianity be thereafter the recognized official religion of the
land. The earliest record we have of a distinctive cathedral service is
near the end of the fourth century; although there are traces of it at
an earlier date, too indistinct to be reliable. St. Basil, at the close
of the fourth century says:--
The people flocked to the churches before daylight, first to pray on
bended knees, then rising to sing psalms, either in alternate chorus,
or one chanting, others following in an under-voice; and this was
done in all Egypt, Libya, Thebes, Palestine, Arabia, and Syria.
In seventy years the Christians had many church edifices, or _ecclesia
cathedralis_ (church meeting-places), and a pretty well developed
and organized prayer and singing service; but cathedral or church
service did not come to great perfection till the days of Gregory the
Great, who was born A. D. 540, and died in 604. Chanting
had its origin in the church of Antioch during the episcopate of
Lontius, A. D. 347-356. Theodoret informs us that Flavianus
and Diodorus divided the choir into two parts, and made them sing
the Psalms of David alternately, and that this method began first at
Antioch. At the Council of Laodicea, held between 360 and 370, it was
determined that there should be canonical singers, who should sing out
of written books. We may imagine something of the state of affairs
before the order passed; for Balsamon says that, prior to the convening
of this council, the laity would many times, and at their pleasure,
begin to sing such hymns and songs in the church as were crude and
unusual. To obviate this the canon was made, ordering that none should
begin to sing but those whose office it was to do so, the laity having
permission, however, to sing with them in the entire service; and so
was inaugurated our modern congregational singing, to be led, however,
by an appointed choir. Choir-singing was carried into Rome in 380,
under Pope Damasus; and in the time of Gregory the Great, about 620,
it was brought to great perfection. Gregory sent Austin to introduce
it into England. He found the clergy there unwilling to receive it,
and it is said that he caused twelve hundred of them to be slaughtered
at once. In 670 Theodore was sent by Vitalian to fill the See of
Canterbury, and he succeeded in introducing the cathedral service; and
he also has the credit of introducing organs into divine worship. The
year 679 is the earliest certain date of cathedral worship in Great
Britain.
In France Gregorian chant-work began about the year 787, and was
patronized by Charles the Great. In the reigns of Henry VIII. and
Edward VI. thirty-two commissioners were appointed to examine all
canons, constitutions, and ordinances, provincial and synodal, and they
declared against a cathedral service. The judicious and pious Hooker,
ceremony-loving, and jealous of the interests of the church, yet under
the ban and interdicted, could not suppress his thought, and he says:--
Cathedrals are as glasses, wherein the face and very countenance
of apostolical antiquity remaineth, even as yet to be seen,
notwithstanding the alterations which the hand of time and the course
of the world hath brought.
So the work continued till a final establishment of present customs,
and Seymour says of cathedrals and their service as at present carried
on:--
They serve as parish churches, only on a more elaborate scale; and
there can be no valid objection raised to their maintenance, except
by those who condemn an intoned service, and the introduction of a
highly cultivated musical choir. The canons preach in turn, and,
provided the preaching is orthodox and purely evangelical [a hit
this, undoubtedly, at Dean Stanley, Canon Farrar, and others of like
sentiment], and the old story of Christ's blood and righteousness and
substitution is set forth as enough for all the spiritual necessities
of mankind, there can be no just grounds of complaint against the
peculiar mode of our present cathedral worship.
St. Patrick's being the first cathedral in which we attend services,
the foregoing statement is made, preparatory to a consideration of this
and other cathedrals we are to visit. It should be remembered that in
all of them the service is intoned or sung, with the exception of the
sermon itself, that being a part of the service only on Sundays or
other important days. So strong is the force of habit, that the sermon
also is generally delivered in a drawling, monotonous tone. This was a
marked feature of the style of Dean Stanley in sermons delivered during
his visit to America. Very strange did his elocution sound to American
ears, and it was only tolerated because it came from a man so really
great and truly honored.
St. Patrick's Cathedral is one of the most interesting churches in
Ireland, and hours can be spent with pleasure and advantage in the
grand old structure. It is said that St. Patrick here erected a place
of worship, and baptized his converts with water taken from a well
in the floor of the present cathedral, which is still shown to the
visitor. As evidence of its antiquity as a place of worship, and of
the importance and character of the original building, we have it as a
well attested fact that in 890--almost a thousand years ago, and four
and a half centuries after the establishment of worship here by St.
Patrick, and the building of his church--Gregory of Scotland, with his
adherents, attended worship here.
The present edifice, the seat of the Bishop of Dublin, was begun by
Archbishop Comyn in 1190. It was doubled in its capacity by Archbishop
Minot, who held the See in 1370, repairs on the old cathedral, and the
extension, being necessitated by a fire which destroyed a large portion
of the building in 1362. The edifice is of dark or blackish stone. It
is irregular in outline, being cruciform in plan, with nave, choir,
transepts, lady-chapel and porch.
A number of monuments are scattered about the interior, among them a
tablet to the memory of the Duke of Schomberg, with an inscription by
Jonathan Swift, at one time Dean of the cathedral. In another part are
mural tablets, high up from the floor, to the memory of the Dean, who
died Oct. 19, 1745, and was here buried. Near by is the monument to
Mrs. Hester Johnson, the _Stella_ of his poetry. A monument of note
near the door commemorates Boyle, Earl of Cork, who died 1629. It is of
a peculiar design, and attractive by its quaint oddity. It is of black
marble, ornamented in parts by wood mouldings and carving, which were
painted in positive colors, but are now dull and somewhat obscured. It
represents the earl and his wife in recumbent positions, surrounded
by their sixteen children. These figures are of wood, and carved in a
grotesque style, barbaric enough to be pleasing examples of sculpture
to a "Heathen Chinee."
The exterior of the cathedral presents a very aged appearance, and the
two parts of the structure, erected by the two bishops in 1190 and
1370, are distinctly marked. The tower has plain buttresses at the
corners, each ending in embattled turrets. A low, stone spire above
this is attached to the section built by Bishop Comyn, and was erected
some time after the other parts of the cathedral. Each part is of
Gothic architecture, and is of the style prevailing at the period of
its erection. Elaborate decoration does not appear in any part, and
as the edifice fronts on a cramped, narrow street, and is near the
surrounding buildings, no extended view of it can be obtained.
In 1860 the late Sir B. L. Guinness,--the noted brewer of Dublin, whose
celebrated ales and porter are known the civilized world over,--at his
own expense, undertook a complete restoration of the cathedral; and
after years of continued labor, by a large body of workmen, the whole
was finished at a cost of $720,000. Changes were made in the interior
by the removal of modernish screens, and the exterior, while it has the
same antiquated look, is in perfect repair. The interior with its lofty
groined ceiling and arches, its stately columns, its rich oaken stalls,
its beautiful stained glass windows, the great organ at the left of the
communion table, the rich pulpit,--especially dedicated by Mr. Guinness
to the late Dean Peckham as a memorial,--these combine to make the
venerable structure rank well with many of the cathedrals of England.
We hardly need to say that it is under the administration of the Church
of England.
This was our first Sunday on land, April 28, and we decided that we
would attend worship here in the forenoon. The Bishop of Dublin, and
his canons, curates, and robed adult choir, were in attendance, and the
cathedral was about one third filled. The service, as we afterwards
found to be the universal custom in England, was intoned instead
of read. It was disturbed, too, by the constant echoes; and, being
unfamiliar with an intoned service, we were but poorly interested, and
hoped for better things in the sermon, which was by one of the canons.
It proved to be a weak statement of common things, a labored effort to
prove what all admitted at the start. We would, however, speak lightly
of no religious work, and were thankful for the treat we had enjoyed
of seeing this time-honored sanctuary in use, and that we had listened
to its grand music, and also to even a poor rendition of its beautiful
service.
At 2 P. M. we are out again for a ramble, this time to visit
the fine grounds and buildings of the Royal Hospital, built by the
celebrated architect of St. Paul's Cathedral at London, Sir Christopher
Wren, in 1669. The building is large, though but two stories in height,
and has ample grounds, and two-hundred-year-old avenues, well shaded by
large trees. The institution is now used as a military station. We were
freely admitted to the principal parts, were delighted with the old and
good portraits in the ancient dining-hall,--and inexpressibly so with
the chapel, for here are to be seen transcripts of the mind of Wren.
He appears to best advantage as a designer, when he undertook to make
pulpits and altar-pieces; and here, about the large circular-headed
altar-window, he has almost excelled himself. This, like all the stall
work, is finished in oak, and is as elaborate and as perfect as though
of modern construction, though it is more than two hundred years old.
Reluctantly we left these hallowed premises for a walk in the great
Phoenix Park near by, and in the Zoölogical Garden. On our walk
home to the hotel, we made it in our way to pass the companion church
of St. Patrick, the other cathedral; for, incredible as it may seem,
Dublin has another Protestant Episcopal cathedral-church, one scarcely
inferior to St. Patrick's in renown. It is the venerable Church of
the Holy Trinity, more commonly known by the name of Christ Church
Cathedral. As is well known, a cathedral is so called because it is
the seat of a bishop. Of course Dublin has but one bishop, and he is
at St. Patrick's. The edifice we are to describe has, in turn with St.
Patrick's, been the bishop's church, and from that circumstance the
name has obtained its present use.
This edifice is of great interest and antiquity. According to the
"Black Book of Christ's Church," a very ancient record, its vaults, or
what is now the crypt, were built by the Danes before the first visit
of St. Patrick to Dublin in the fifth century, but who is erroneously
reported to have celebrated mass in them. The present edifice, in
comparison with these vaults, is quite modern, for it was not built
till five hundred years after; but enough of antiquity remains to
excite our admiration, for this building was begun in the year
1038,--845 years ago, 152 years before the building of St. Patrick's,
and about half-way between the date of the birth of Christ and our own
day.
The statement that St. Patrick said mass in the crypt of this cathedral
is simply a legend, for he had ended his ministry early in the fifth
century. A sort of tavern was kept for centuries in this crypt; while
services were being performed above, the votaries of Bacchus were
adoring their god beneath. It was no uncommon thing in that age for
churches to provide accommodation for the tramps and bummers of the
time. As late as the close of the sixteenth century, the benches at the
door of Old St. Paul's, London, were used by beggars and drunkards to
sleep on, and the place was surrendered to idlers of all descriptions.
Christ Church Cathedral was greatly enlarged by Lawrence O'Tool, who,
in 1163, changed the canons, originally secular, into the regular
canons of Arras, as they were termed. Next, Strongbow, the Earl of
Pembroke, and Fitzstephen, both Norman adventurers, made repairs and
additions about the year 1170; and again Raymond le Gros, at a yet
later day, added the steeple, choir, and two small chapels. In 1190,
but twenty years after, it was practically rebuilt by John Comyn, who
at the same time was building St. Patrick's; and about the year 1360
John de St. Paul erected the chancel. With occasional repairs the
edifice remained as it was, 523 years ago, till a few years since, when
great dilapidation had taken place, and extensive restorations were
needed. Not to be outdone by Mr. Guinness at St. Patrick's, Henry Roe,
Esq., the well-known distiller of Dublin, emulating the example of
his friend, ordered, at his own expense, complete repairs on both the
exterior and interior, costing a full million of dollars. The work was
done under the architectural supervision of G. A. Street, and paid for
by Mr. Roe as the work proceeded. At the time of our second visit, May
2, although not entirely finished, the building had been reopened, and
an assemblage of the most distinguished prelates of the Episcopalian
order held a four days' service, largely musical, at the grand opening,
of which we speak hereafter.
The building, though very massive and suggestive of strength, is not
beautiful in proportions or decoration. It has a clumsy look, but is
consistent in design throughout. The interior has the same appearance.
While it is finished in the highest style of workmanship, and in the
best possible imitation of the original plan, it is mainly pleasing
in variety of design, its thoroughness of work, and in the faithful
representation it probably gives of the cathedral as it was centuries
ago. When one looks at the nicely cut stone and fine finish, he can but
believe that it is a vast improvement in workmanship on its original
self. It has many ancient monuments of the quaintest sort, often with
rude and grotesque designs.
Conspicuous among these is one of the Earl of Pembroke, or, as he is
more commonly called, Strongbow, the Norman invader, who died in 1166.
It represents the renowned warrior in a recumbent posture, clothed in
mail armor, with his wife Eva by his side. Reasonable doubts exist of
the authenticity of the monument. Its honors are divided between him
and the Earl of Desmond, the Lord Chief Justice, who was looked upon
with suspicion and jealousy on account of his kindness to the Irish
people, and in consequence of this jealousy was beheaded at Drogheda in
1497. This monument was removed from its original location, by order of
Sir Henry Sidney, in 1569.
This cathedral is a place of resort for those who are interested in
the elaborate service performed every Sunday forenoon. It has a lawn
on one side of it, somewhat larger than any at St. Patrick's. This is
well fenced in from the side street, and parallel with the side of the
cathedral; but the rear end and side are in close contiguity to common
buildings, and the neighborhood is entirely made up of ordinary houses
of brick or stone, which are filled with tenants, often having families
on each floor. The streets are narrow, and while not remarkably dirty,
they are anything but tidy in appearance. This portion of the city,
and St. Patrick's neighborhood--which is not more than a five minutes'
walk away--are probably the oldest settled parts of the city; a low
population having taken possession still retain their foothold, as they
do about the great churches at Cork and Limerick.
There are many interesting facts shown on the ancient records of this
cathedral. In 1434 the mayor and some distinguished citizens of Dublin
did penance, by walking barefoot through the streets to the cathedral,
for having committed manslaughter; for taking the Earl of Ormonde
prisoner "in a hostile manner;" for breaking open the doors of St.
Mary's Abbey, dragging out the abbot, "and carrying him forth like
a corpse, some bearing him by the feet, and others by the arms and
shoulders."
In 1450 a parliament was held in the cathedral by Henry VI.; another
was held in 1493. In 1497 liberty from arrests, and all other
molestations, was granted, by the city of Dublin, to those who should
come to visit any shrine or relic of this edifice. In 1528 the prior
of this cathedral, with the priors of St. John of Jerusalem and of All
Saints, caused two plays to be acted, on a stage erected by Hoggin
Green, representing the Passion of the Saviour, and the several deaths
the apostles suffered. This was a sort of Irish Oberammergau play.
Seven years later, in 1535, a great change in public sentiment had
come; for in this year George Brown, an Augustin friar who had been
consecrated bishop, removed all images and relics from this and the
other churches of the diocese, and in their stead placed the Creed, the
Lord's Prayer, and the Ten Commandments in gilded frames. In 1538 the
_Baculus Jesu_, or holy staff, said to have belonged to St. Patrick,
and deposited here in 1180, was publicly burned. In 1554 Bishop
Brown, who was the first Protestant prelate of Dublin, was deprived
of his office by Queen Mary. Four years later another reaction had
taken place. In 1559 Parliament was held in the cathedral; the Act of
Uniformity was passed; the Litany was sung in English, for the first
time in Ireland, before the Earl of Sussex, the Lord Lieutenant; and a
large English Bible was chained in the middle of the choir, free for
the people to read. By order of Queen Elizabeth, Thomas Lockwood, the
dean, removed all Popish relics and images, that had been restored in
the days of Queen Mary in 1570. Penance was performed here by Richard
Dixon, Bishop of Cork, who was also deprived of his See for gross
immoralities. In 1633 the Lord-deputy sent an urgent letter to the
Archbishop of Canterbury, asking him to prevent a longer use of the
vaults under the cathedral as ale and tobacco shops.
In 1738 a peal of bells was cast by Abel Rudhall of Gloucester,
England, and placed in the tower. He had cast the Sweet Bells of
Shandon at St. Ann's, Cork. He was also the maker of the bells at
Christ Church, Boston, which were cast but six years later, in 1744.
There were at the cathedral originally but eight bells. Five have
recently been added. In 1821 George IV., and in 1868 the Prince and
Princess of Wales, attended service in the cathedral.
All cathedrals have a similar history. A cathedral's history is but a
record of humanity's march through the centuries, through superstition,
blood, and contest, onward and upward to advanced and yet advancing
conditions, till finally--if there be truth in divine writ or the
aspirations of humanity--"the kingdoms of this world shall become the
kingdoms of our Lord, and of his Christ."
Sackville Street is a splendid business avenue leading from Carlisle
Bridge. It is full one hundred feet wide, and filled with a hurrying,
Broadway or Washington Street-like population. On the left stands the
classical portico of the post-office, composed of six large Ionic
columns, and their entablature and pediment. It is surmounted by
figures of Hibernia, Mercury, and Fidelity. In front, at the centre
of the street, is Nelson's monument, a splendid column 112 feet
high,--exclusive of the crowning statue of the hero of Trafalgar, which
is in itself 13 feet in height. This is a fine piece of sculpture, and
is from the studio of a native sculptor, Thomas Kirk. The monument was
erected by public subscription and cost over $34,000. In consequence
of the general levelness of the city of Dublin, from the top of this
column, though not of very great height, may be seen almost the entire
surrounding country, from the Mourne Mountains in the county of Down
on the north, around to the Wicklow Mountains on the south. Spread out
before the observer are the plains of Meath and Kildare, extending far
westward, and parted by the hills of Dublin and its bay; and to the
eastward appears the Irish Sea.
The Custom House and the Four Courts of Dublin are immense structures,
of classical architecture, and well decorated with statuary. On
the former are statues representing Navigation, Wealth, Commerce,
Industry, Europe, Asia, America, and Africa. Other parts have the arms
of Ireland. There is a fine allegorical representation of Britannia
and Hibernia in a great marine shell, with a group of merchantmen
approaching, and Neptune driving away Famine and Despair.
The Court House has on the upper angle of its great portico pediment a
statue of Moses, and at the lower ends statues of Mercy and Justice.
On other parts are Wisdom and Authority. The great entrance hall is
64 feet in diameter; at the centre stands a colossal statue of Truth,
bearing in her upraised hand a torch, from which issue gas jets for
illuminating the rotunda.
We attended a court session. The rooms were cramped in size, and
dark from the few smoked and unwashed windows. A peculiar impression
was made, reminding us of a by-gone custom and age, when we saw the
lawyers,--or barristers as they are called,--old and young, arrayed in
loose black alpaca robes, open in front and flying as they walk, and
wearing gray wigs of scrupulously curled hair. These are for sale in
especial stores, and their use is imperative when one addresses the
judge of any save the lowest common police court.
Previous anticipations of what was to be seen in Ireland's great
metropolis were in the main realized. We expected, however, to see
more Irish and less English elements. The city is quite American
in appearance. Except for a more durable and classical look to its
buildings, and the cut-stone embankments on both sides of the river;
excepting also its heavier horse-cars and their roads,--_tramways_,
as they are called,--little is seen that may not recall our large
cities, especially Buffalo and Cincinnati. In fact, we were strongly
reminded of these by the stores, houses, and streets, the quantity of
business doing, and the average appearance of the people. Sunday was
observed, much as it is in Boston or New York, by a general suspension
of business, the streets being filled with well-dressed, orderly
people. Bells often saluted the ear, horse-cars and omnibuses were well
patronized, and the parks were visited by thousands, all in a state of
sobriety that we are not sure of seeing in a large American city. We
now for a time leave the city, but in another chapter shall speak of it
again.
CHAPTER IV.
WATERFORD--CARRICK-ON-SUIR--KILKENNY--DUBLIN AGAIN.
Business now called us back to the lower part of Ireland, and we will
here take a look at Waterford and other places.
Waterford is one of the most noted places of Southern Ireland, and
has for centuries played an important part in history and commerce.
We arrived here at 6.30 P. M., after a ride of five and a half hours
from Dublin. The city is situated on the right bank of the River Suir,
nine miles from its entrance into Waterford Harbor. It has an extensive
suburb, with a pleasant settlement called Ferrybank, on the other side
of the river, opposite a part of the city. The population of Waterford
proper is 23,349. The quay is the finest in Ireland. It is 120 feet
wide, extends for three quarters of a mile along the river, and is
well built of stone. Bordering this, on the land side, are stores of
various kinds. It looks like an old commercial place, and the general
dingy look of everything suggests great dampness of atmosphere. There
are not many buildings of importance. Few of the streets are wide, but
most of them are narrow and crooked, and lanes and alleys abound. We
were impressed with the aspect of poverty. The shore opposite is bold,
rocky, and precipitous, and, at the lower end, about the bridge and
railway station, is romantic and picturesque.
The old, long bridge is a structure of stone, and of considerable
consequence. It was erected in Ireland's memorable year, 1798, and near
this place one of her most important battles was fought, which ended to
her disadvantage, and resulted, in 1801, in the surrender of her power,
and the establishment of English rule. It is too much to expect that
England, who so long ago established its authority in India, and in our
time in Cyprus, thousands of miles away, should resist the temptation
of subjugating a land so indefensible as Ireland, which lay at her very
door. The bridge having been built in her last great battle year, a
stone slab in the parapet records the fact.
Here are the inevitable barracks. They are of stone, three stories
high, and very extensive. There were evidences of military rule in
every place yet visited. The soldiers are all young. None are over
thirty years of age, and many not more than eighteen. All are stout
and robust, and each is a picked man. The uniform coats are red, with
gilt buttons, the pants are a dark plaid; they look dandyish. These
men are the best physique of the nation, and, as a whole, put to a bad
use. They are always to be found on the street, either singly, by twos,
or in squads, each with a switch-cane, said to be furnished by the
government.
The police are English, for no Irish person is trusted, and they are
finely dressed in dark clothes. They are very civil and gentlemanly,
and, like the soldiers, are picked men. Save on a single occasion in
Dublin, we saw no disturbance of any kind, nor any service rendered by
the police.
What interested us most was an old tower on this main thoroughfare,
situated at the extreme end of the quay on the land side, and just
out to the sidewalk line, in close contiguity with the surrounding
buildings. It is fifty feet high, and about thirty-five feet in
diameter, and is built of irregular ledge stone, of a dark gray or
brownish color; is very plain, as far as a projection near the top, of
a few inches; above this it is continued up plain some two or three
feet higher, having a conical roof which comes down apparently inside
of the stone work. There is a single door in the first story. Just
above this, to the left, is a stone tablet, about two and a half feet
wide and five feet high, with pilasters and pediment top,--the whole
much like a dormer window. The inscription is as follows:--
IN THE YEAR 1003
THIS TOWER WAS ERECTED
BY REGINALD THE DANE.
IN 1171 IT WAS HELD AS A FORTRESS
BY STRONGBOLD, EARL OF PEMBROKE.
IN 1463 BY STATUTE 3D, EDWARD IV,
A MINT WAS ESTABLISHED HERE.
IN 1819 IT WAS REEDIFIED IN ITS
ORIGINAL FORM AND APPROPRIATED TO
THE POLICE ESTABLISHMENT
BY THE CORPORATION BODY OF
THE CITY OF WATERFORD.
RT. HON. SIR JOHN NEWPORT, BT., M. P., MAYOR,
HENRY ALCOCK, ESQ.,}
WILLIAM WEEKS, ESQ.} SHERIFFS.
The city is very old, and was founded about the year 850, or more than
one thousand years ago, at which time Sithric the Dane made it his
capital. In 1171 Strongbow and Raymond le Gros took the place, and put
to death most of the Danish inhabitants. King John gave it its first
charter, and resided here for some time. The place was unsuccessfully
besieged by Cromwell, but was afterwards captured by the intrepid
Ireton. There are remains of old fortifications and monasteries.
Curraghmore, the seat of the Marquis of Waterford, containing four
thousand acres, is near the city. After a stay till 9 P. M. of
this day, we took train for the town of
CARRICK-ON-SUIR,
where we arrived at 9.45, and took room at Madame Phalan's Hotel.
It is a very comfortable place, and thoroughly Irish, but of a good
sort,--a little old inn of the first water; and, as usual, a woman
sixty years old was the "man of the house." A good night's rest, and,
next morning a tramp over the town, and the business for which we had
come was attended to. The place was very clean and neat, the buildings
being of stone, with slate roofs. Many were plastered on the outside,
painted in tints of cream-color or gray, and blocked off to represent
stone. They are generally two or three stories high. We have spoken
of the slate roofs. Some were new and clean, like the best in Boston.
Others were ancient, and made of thick slates, little better than thin
stones of small size, and often mortared up so as to give a very clumsy
appearance. On many of them were large patches of thick, green, velvety
moss, and not unfrequently growing in it, and in the roof-gutters, were
specimens of snapdragon in full bloom. The people refrain from removing
these excrescences, unless for repairs which compel them to do so.
We were delighted with the old market-place, and with the thoroughly
Irish houses, one story high, built of stone, plastered and
whitewashed, and situated in narrow lanes, which were paved with
round cobble-stones, and kept remarkably clean. The place shows
cultivation and a good civilization. It is a market-town, and a parish
of Tipperary, and is situated on the pretty River Suir, crossed by a
bridge built over five hundred years ago. It has a population of 8,520.
It was formerly enclosed by walls, and has a parish church of great
antiquity. A fine Roman Catholic Church has lately been built, and a
large school is connected with it, having an elegant building of gray
limestone. There is a castle of some repute, formerly belonging to the
celebrated Ormonde family. The town also has a prison, a hospital, and
barracks.
Improvements in the river, made in 1850, rendered it navigable for
vessels of considerable capacity, which can now come up to the town,
which has quite a trade in cotton, corn, and general produce. Monthly
fairs are held in the market-place. There are some shade-trees, and the
town in many parts has a rural look. But few very Irish-looking people
are seen. While the town is unmistakably Irish, it is of a high grade;
and, notwithstanding many of its buildings are quaint and old, for the
most part it is modern, though not of course like New England. The
place has two banks, and a number of good stores. We had seen no place
quite like Carrick, but, as we aftewards found, it anticipated Kilkenny.
The good wine was, however, kept till the last, for we had an exquisite
suburban trip. At 1.30 P. M. we took a team, standing in the
street for hire, for our journey to Pilltown. We didn't care to inquire
where the village got its name, and doubt of success had we made the
attempt. A half-mile out, and we were in love with the scenery. There
presented itself every kind of view imaginable,--hills, fields, groves,
and mountains in the distance. We thought then, and we think now, that
little section is the garden of Ireland. How fine the landscapes! how
balmy and clear the atmosphere! what good vegetation, and what sleek
horses, beautiful healthy cows, and splendid sheep! and how very civil
they were, and how confiding, when we strangers came near them! We
were so full of satisfaction that we had but little real ability to
appreciate what we saw next,--a street as wide and clean as can be
desired, some of the neatest possible one-story stone houses, with
appropriate front-yards with flowers in them; and nowhere to be found,
in either street or yard or house, so far as we could see, a thing to
amend or alter. Well, we almost knew there was an especial cause for
all this. No lot of mortals, fallen from the assumed high plane of
Adam and Eve, ever existed,--at all events that we have heard of,--who
would of themselves get into this Eden-like condition. We inquired
the cause, and soon the mystery was at an end, for we were told that
Lord Bestborough,--we hope that name is given right,--a much beloved
landholder, owned all, and gave annual prizes for the best kept houses
and grounds. A committee of ladies and gentlemen have the matter in
charge; they make two especial visits, and award five prizes in all,
the largest being two pounds, or ten dollars.
We rode on, and were soon at the original Purcell estate, which has
for some hundreds of years been occupied by the family of that name,
from which one of the writers came in the course of human progress.
In talking of our own company, we are not inclined to say _descent_,
and especially in these days of Darwinism; so we draw it mild when we
refrain from saying _ascent_, and are contented with suggesting that we
have advanced or progressed.
We may have been prejudiced, but very delightful was the scenery in
this region. The river took a grand quarter-circle sweep just back of
the old farm, and was here a quarter of a mile wide, with remarkably
fine English grass-meadows, half a mile wide, bordering it. The distant
hills were irregular and well wooded, and over them was a fine haze,
like that of our Blue Hills at Milton. The great ravines had dark
places of interest, and made all very picturesque. Not more than two or
three scattered farmhouses were in view. No noise was heard save that
of the small birds; but conspicuous was the song of the Irish Thrush.
Two coal-vessels were at anchor in the river, and these added a strange
element to the scene. We hallooed to one vessel and beckoned, and a
boat was put out to ferry us over. In making for Purcell's we had
mistaken the road, and so had walked a mile or more out of the way, and
were on the wrong side of the river. It wouldn't be Yankeeish to go
back, but rather to go ahead, especially when, Davy Crockett-like, we
were sure we were right,--for, to use an Irishism, we were right when
we were wrong. The boat came, and we, like the two kings of ancient
Munster--Strongbow and Raymond le Gros--stepped in and were rowed over.
We gave a shilling to the boatman, and landed, and were now all right.
It would not be becoming to tell all that we saw, said, and did. We had
never seen one of that family, nor they us; nor had they seen any other
Yankees; and if any mortals were surprised, they were. Photographs of
some kindred were, however, in that very house. The whole matter of
relationship was thoroughly talked over, and in the room where the
great-grandfather died, we took tea. We stood in front of the large
kitchen fireplace, where for almost a century he used to sit, and were
delighted with a sight of old New-Englandish pots, kettles, trammels,
hooks, and large high andirons, about which the burning furze crackled.
Keats has it, "A thing of beauty is a joy forever." This is a joy
forever,--that old fireplace; but the beauty is nowhere, not even,
thought we, in the "mind's eye Horatio." To leave a cathedral or a
fine old ruin, a picture gallery or museum, caused less trouble than
our parting with this good old Irish homestead; but the spell must be
broken.
As we walked through the long, winding lane, each side well hedged,
we were delighted anew. In what profusion were the modest daisies
in the pathway; how many, many snails, their houses on their backs,
were on the bushes; and then, those exquisite primroses, in such vast
numbers,--of the most delicate, refined straw-tint imaginable. The
entire vegetation was so clean! And then the stillness--nothing but
sweet-singing birds to make a noise. Half a mile off, on a rise of land
to our right, was a little village of perhaps twenty houses,--and the
church, the mother building of them all. Here, once a Purcell was the
priest. He built the house we had visited, and was a brother of the
great-grandfather. _Advanced_ as we are, and removed from Romanism,
yet there was a charm about that old spot. Though dead a century, that
venerable priestly ancestor yet speaketh.
We wended our way to Fiddown Station. How refinedly Irish that name
is, and also that of the village Polroon; but alas, the euphony had
become exhausted before we went in imagination a half-mile back from
Polroon, and over to Purcell's Village, for that has the æsthetic name
of Moincoin. Our walk from this place was three miles, but the distance
was short enough amidst such air and scenery.
A ride in the steam-cars, of an hour from Fiddown, and at 9 P.
M. we were back, not in Carrick-on-Suir, but in Waterford, at the
Imperial Hotel, near the old Strongbold Tower before described. Not
much of Irish about the hotel! Next morning breakfast was ordered at 6
A. M. Then we went out and copied the tower inscription before
given. At 7.15 took cars for Kilkenny, where we arrived at 8.30.
The general look of the landscape between the places, and in fact all
the way down from Dublin, was very like that of New England along
shore. Trees and woods are in about the same proportion as with us,
and, excepting the houses, we saw nothing that we might not have seen
in a similar ride at home.
KILKENNY.
"Kilkenny is sure another of the Irish places," says the reader; and
it is hardly less so by reputation than Sligo, Dundalk, and Drogheda.
It is the shire town of the county of Kilkenny, and a county of
itself, situated on the River Nore, 63 miles from Dublin, and 30 miles
from Waterford, having a population of 12,664. It is divided by the
river into an Irish and an English town, the former in the vicinity
of the cathedral, and the latter near the castle. In ancient times
the place figured largely as a seat of parliaments, and was often
the scene of stirring events. As viewed from the railway, which is
one of the best points of observation, Kilkenny is one of the most
picturesque rural places that can be imagined. On the left of the
centre, and on low ground, is the castle. The original was built by
Earl Strongbow in 1172, and, destroyed by Donald O'Brien soon after.
The present structure was built in 1195. In 1319 James Butler, third
Earl of Ormonde, purchased the estate of the Pembroke (or Strongbold)
family, and with his descendants it has since remained. It is in
perfect condition, and occupied by the Marquis of Ormonde. It is a very
large edifice, of an old granite appearance, is situated on a slight
elevation, and the river runs rapidly by its base. The location is at
the centre of population, the main avenues adjoining the grounds. The
general effect reminds us of Warwick Castle. Richard II. spent two
weeks here on a visit to the Earl in 1399. In March, 1650, Cromwell,
having invested the place, opened a cannonade on the castle and made
a breach in its walls; but the attackers were twice repulsed, and the
breach quickly repaired, Cromwell was traitorously admitted by the
mayor and a few of his townsmen; and as he was in company with Ireton,
Sir Walter Butler, who was in charge of the place, deemed it expedient
to capitulate, and did so on honorable terms. He and his officers were
highly complimented by Cromwell, who informed them that he had lost
more men in storming the town than he did in taking Drogheda, and that
but for treachery he should have retired from the siege.
To the right of the centre and on very high ground we see the Cathedral
of St. Canice, one of the most interesting ecclesiastical structures of
Ireland. It was begun in 1180 by Felix O'Dullany, who transferred the
See of Sagir from Aghabo to Kilkenny. So extensive was the design of
the building that its projectors, never expecting to see it finished,
contentedly covered in the choir and consecrated it, leaving to others
the task of consummating the work. It is cruciform in plan, 226 feet
long, and 123 feet wide at the transepts. It has a low and long look,
and the tower, which is also low, gives the structure a depressed
appearance. The interior, however, is grand and imposing. The pillars
are of plain black marble, surmounted by high Gothic arches. The
arches under the tower, which is at the intersection of nave, choir,
and transepts, rest on four massive marble columns. The great western
window is triplicated, and a large cross and two Gothic finials crown
the centre, angles, and apex of the great gable. The exterior is in
tolerable repair, and the interior is in perfect condition, having been
fully restored by Dean Vignolles.
The monumental remains are numerous and interesting. Among them is
that of Peter Butler, the eighth Earl of Ormonde, and his Amazonian
Countess, known by the Irish as Morgyrhead Ghearhodh. Irish enough the
name is, and for that reason we quote it. They died in the sixteenth
century. The Countess was of the family of Fitzgerald, and did not
dishonor her blood, for she was masculine in organization, and as
warlike as any of her race. History says of her that "she was always
attended by numerous vassals, richly clothed and accoutred, the whole
forming a gay pageant and formidable army;" and it was more than
whispered, by the gossips of her day, that, like Rob Roy, she levied
blackmail on her less powerful neighbors.
Near the cathedral is one of the finest monumental round-towers of
Ireland, 108 feet in height and in perfect preservation; though like
all these solitary towers, its use is yet enveloped in mystery. No
place of Ireland presents a better opportunity of research for the
lover of antiquities than the county of Kilkenny, for it is not too
much to say that here ruins abound. A writer in "Hall's Hibernia"
says:--
So numerous are church ruins in this region, that on our way we were
guided through numerous alleys and by-lanes, to examine relics of the
olden time. We found wretched hovels propped up by carved pillars;
and in several instances discovered Gothic doorways converted into
pigstyes.
This was not quite our experience. Our impressions were that the town,
in the English part, was business-like and attractive, the streets
clean and well paved, and the inhabitants well dressed. In the Irish
portion there was the usual quota of one-story houses, and a poor
population.
The Roman Catholic Church, recently built, is an elegant structure,
with lofty towers and spires above them, and stands, as viewed from the
railroad, at about the centre of the place.
Kilkenny is celebrated as the seat of witchcraft trials. One of the
most remarkable was that of Lady Alice Kettel in 1325. There were,
however, but three executions. It should in justice to Ireland be said
that, with all its superstitions, it had comparatively few inhabitants
who were barbarous enough to force presumed witches to trial. New
England was more than her equal. Aside from these three at Kilkenny,
there was but one such execution in all Ireland; and that was at
Antrim, in 1699, seven years after the first appearance of the delusion
in New England, which occurred at the house of Rev. Mr. Parris, in
Salem, in 1692. The Antrim trial was the last, and was told as a story
in pamphlet form, entitled, "The Bewitching of a Child in Ireland."
It had a large circulation, and was foolishly copied by Professor
Sinclair into his work entitled "Satan's Invisible World Discovered;"
and is frequently referred to by Sir Walter Scott, in his "Letters
on Demonology." While speaking of Sir Walter, we are reminded of the
fact that Kilkenny, as well as Melrose had its Sir Walter. His name
was John Banim. He wielded a facile pen, had a peculiar temperament,
and represented the character of his country and its people with more
fidelity and interest, if not romantic effect, than any other Irish
novelist.
We are admonished that we must here end our talk about this lovely
Kilkenny; and, as we turn once more for a final view as our train moves
away from the station, it is not without feelings allied to those which
Longfellow describes in his own sweet way:--
A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
We are fully aware that we have not often spoken of Roman Catholic
churches, cathedrals, nunneries, and schools; and at first sight it
would appear that in this Catholic country more attention should have
been paid to these things; but recognizing the narrow space that could
with propriety be devoted to any one place, we have reluctantly had
to forego the pleasure of describing many points of interest. The
reader may rest assured that it would have given us unalloyed pleasure
to speak of hospitals, charity-schools, asylums, almshouses, and a
thousand charitable institutions we saw and heard of. All these abound.
That kind-heartedness, so characteristic of the Irish nature; that
hospitality which is part of their being, making their houses, large
or small, in Ireland or America, hospitals, asylums, or hotels,--these
qualities show themselves, in constant and varying forms, in buildings
designed as comfortable retreats for the unfortunate.
Descriptions have been given only of such buildings as are of
remarkable antiquity, and possessed of more than ordinary interest.
At best, these chapters can only be a brief and meagre synopsis of
an inexhaustible store; but perhaps they will tempt the reader to
consult the more elaborate thought of others, as found in histories and
gazetteers. No more comfortable road up the hill of general knowledge
exists, than that which one travels while reading such works. In
the former, and measurably in the latter, he finds truth stranger
than fiction, and romance supported by an obscured reality, at once
enchanting and almost incredible.
In passing over the roads from place to place there is one continual
panorama of interesting objects, each of which is out of the usual
line of observation of such travellers as ourselves,--Americans,
Yankees, with New England lineage and descent through a line of more
than a hundred years. These scenes are so interesting that hundreds
of chapters might be written about them; and when the work ended,
description proper would be just begun.
What novel can be more interesting, or what entertainment more
enchanting, than to read about Galbally, where a monastery was founded,
as early as 1204, for the Grayfriars, by a member of the celebrated
family of O'Brien. It justly boasts of its beautiful Glen Aherlow,
eight miles long and two wide, which truthful descriptions say, is
not surpassed in interest by anything in the country. It has also a
Druidical Temple, consisting of three circles of stone, the principal
one of which is 150 feet in diameter, consisting of forty stones, of
which the largest is 13 feet long, 6 feet wide, and 4 feet thick!
The Rock of Cashel, but twelve miles from Limerick,--a large lone rock,
rising boldly out of a plain,--is of world-wide celebrity, by reason of
its association with one of the most interesting ruins in the kingdom,
which still repose on its summit,--those of a grand castle, held by the
chiefs of the family Hy Dunnamoi, now called O'Donohue. They consist
chiefly of a round-tower, ninety feet high; a small church in the
Norman style, with a stone roof; a cathedral church, in Gothic style;
and a castle and monastery; and yet in addition, are the fine ruins of
Hore Abbey at the base of the rock. Let the intelligent reader know of
these, and he has at hand strange and enchanting romances in no way
inferior to "Kenilworth," or "The Lady of the Lake."
We shall be pardoned for seeming egotism when we name Loughmore
Castle,--a fine old building in ruins, showing yet a massive
castellated front, with strong square towers at each end, the one at
the right being of great antiquity, the remainder having been built in
the sixteenth century. On the opposite side are the church and chapel
of Loughmore. The estate was long the seat of the Purcells, from whom,
in a maternal line, has probably descended one of the authors of this
volume.
Let our investigator continue his research, and he will be informed of
the remarkable ruins of Kildare, thirty miles out from Dublin, among
which is the Chapel of St. Brigid, called the Firehouse, it being the
locality of the perennial fire which the nuns maintained day and night,
during a thousand years, for the benefit of strangers and the poor. A
thousand years of never extinguished charity-fire! How incomprehensible
the fact and story!
Ireland is indeed a land of romance, which is merged in the obscurities
of a time which the records of man do not reach or measure.
Superstition and general ignorance long prevailed, but the temperament
and organism of the race have made a history peculiar to itself.
There's a deal of strength and nationality in the blood. Dilute it,
generation after generation, and its idiosyncracies are still there.
Where can romance inhere, if not in conditions like these? What, if not
legends of fairies, visions, miracles, could result from the operations
of this religious turn of mind, and its accompanying superstitious
beliefs? Castle, church, monastery, abbey, tower, must come into being;
and their convictions were so influential that these people "builded
better than they knew."
We arrive at Maryboro at 7.30 P. M., and here we meet with
our first and last experience of a tardy train, which is an hour and
a half late at a junction. We remained over night at Borland's Hotel,
paying for supper, lodging, and breakfast, $1.50 apiece. At 8.40 A.
M. next day, May 2, took train for Dublin again, arriving at 11
_A. M._ This was to be our last day in Erin, and so we went directly to
the steamer Longford and engaged "passage out of Ireland," paying for
the passage to Liverpool $2.37 each. And now for one more tramp over
the Irish metropolis.
We had been informed of the completion of Christ Church Cathedral,
and that on this day the great public opening was to take place. We
soon discovered that we were unfortunate in not being one of the
dignitaries, as they only had tickets of admission. But no Yankee of
good blood would be three thousand miles from home, and lose a sight
on which a million dollars had been expended; and so, with as much
faith that we should gain admission to their building, as most of the
prelates perhaps had of one day entering "the house not made with
hands," we made our demand, and were of course repulsed. Remembering
the daring of Strongbow, whose bones were reposing inside the
cathedral, and that _we_ were of Irish extraction, we were emboldened,
and bethought ourselves of who we were; for, like one of old, we were
citizens "of no mean country," and were ready to fight spiritually with
the beasts of Ephesus. We made an effort, and came off conquerors.
"Americans," said we. That was the charm which held the attention of
the official, robed and consequential, with whom we talked, and who
was moved by that talismanic word. Although he had refused, and with
righteous indignation declared he could not--and perhaps felt that he
would not--let us in; yet, as soon as he knew who we were, he came down
from his lofty position and the cathedral door swung open. His whole
being was filled with a consciousness of the good of which he was the
happy author. We complacently bowed our compliments, as all triumphing
Americans should do; then we went in and surveyed everything, and in
due time were out and taking our last look of the city.
At 6 P. M. we were on board our steamer; and soon she steamed
out of the harbor and into the bay and channel, and we were once more
on the briny deep. A pleasant sail, and a comparatively quiet one,
landed us at 7 A. M., on Saturday, May 3, on the soil of Old
England.
We have with comparative thoroughness--that is, for a tourist's
statement--given an account of Old Ireland; and now, before we begin
our similar account of Old England, we think it well to add a page
or two more, and give a few leading points in regard to Ireland as a
whole; for in these chapters, be it anew remembered, we are to try
and give such incidental information as will be useful as well as
entertaining to the general reader, so that he will know more of the
country than he would learn from mere statements about a few things we
chanced to see.
As is well known, the Emerald Isle--so called from the luxuriance of
vegetation induced by a mild and moist climate--is one of the four
divisions of Great Britain, England, Wales, and Scotland being the
others. It is separated from England by the Irish Sea and St. George's
Channel, and contains an area of 32,531 square miles. This is not far
from the size of the State of Maine, which contains 35,000. Ireland is
divided into four provinces, Leinster, Munster, Ulster, and Connaught,
and these comprise thirty-two counties. Its greatest population was in
1841, when it amounted to 8,199,853. During the next ten years, owing
to famine and emigration, it decreased 1,600,000, that is to 6,599,853;
and this was about 200,000 less than in 1821, when the first census was
taken. The number of inhabited houses in 1861 was 995,156; in ten years
they decreased to 960,352. The average number of persons to a house was
seven, giving for 1871 a population of 6,722,464. This is not far from
the present population, which is more than ten times that of the State
of Maine, 626,915, and twice that of all New England, 3,487,924. As New
England has 68,460 miles of surface, and Ireland 32,531, it follows
that the latter has about four times as many persons to the square mile
as the former.
Ireland has ninety-two harbors and sixty-two lighthouses. There are in
all 2,830,000 acres of bog land that is available for fuel, or about
one seventh of all the island. At Dublin the mean temperature for the
year is fifty degrees, which is seven degrees warmer than the average
of Boston; and there is an average of but three degrees of difference
between the extreme northern and southern parts. There is a perpetual
moisture, which induces vegetation and maintains unfailing pasturage.
This is due to the prevalence of westerly winds, which bring with them
the warm moist atmosphere of the Gulf Stream. The average rainfall is
thirty-six inches, or about six inches less than at Boston.
Ireland boasts of great antiquity. We will, however, speak of it only
from the time of St. Patrick, who was sent here by Germanus of Rome,
to convert the people to Christianity. He arrived about the middle
of the fifth century, and died in 493, leaving the island nominally
Christian. Schools and monasteries were established; and so noted did
the country become for the learning and piety of its ecclesiastics,
that it was called _Insula Sanctorum_, Isle of Saints. In the year 646
many Anglo Saxons settled on the island, and in 684 it had become of
sufficient importance to be invaded by Egfrid, king of Northumberland,
who destroyed churches and monasteries. From this time invasions were
common. In 1002 Brian Boru, who was king of the province of Munster,
was powerful enough to expel the Danes who had come in, and was crowned
at Tara, "King of all Ireland." Hence Moore's poem, "The Harp that once
through Tara's Halls."
Brian Boru wrought great reforms, for he founded churches and schools,
opened roads, built bridges, and fitted out fleets. He introduced
surnames, heretofore not in use, and made the marriage contract
permanent. The Danes again invaded Ireland in 1014; and on Good
Friday--April 23, of that year--Brian, an old man of eighty years, was
killed in his tent, although his party had triumphed.
Internal dissensions and civil wars followed. The island soon fell
into a state of degeneracy, and lost its good character as the Isle of
Saints. St. Bernard called the attention of the Church authorities of
Rome to its condition, and Pope Eugenius III. sent Cardinal Papiron to
restore discipline. In March, 1152, a synod was held at Kells, when
the supremacy of Rome was acknowledged, and the archbishoprics of
Dublin and of Tuam were established. In 1155 a bull is said to have
been issued by Pope Adrian IV. conferring the sovereignty of Ireland
on Henry II. of England. Next came invasions by two bands of Normans,
one under Robert Fitzstephen in 1169, and another under Earl Pembroke
(Strongbow) in the same year. Henry II. issued a proclamation recalling
Strongbow, and all Englishmen, under pain of outlawry. Then there was
a series of interesting battles, sometimes one party being successful,
and sometimes the other.
In 1341 Edward III. ordered that all offices held by Irishmen, or by
Englishmen who had estates or wives in Ireland, should be vacated, and
filled by Englishmen who had no personal interest whatever in the Green
Isle. Great resistance and trouble followed, and the English triumphed.
A parliament was held in Dublin in 1537, when the Act of Supremacy was
passed, declaring Henry VIII. supreme head of the Church, prohibiting
intercourse with the court of Rome, and making it treason to refuse
the oath of supremacy. Then began a new series of wars and troubles.
Each subsequent page of history is stained with blood. Insurrections
and resistance were oft repeated. Finally, in 1798, new battles were
fought, the English being in the end victorious. The next year a bill
of amnesty was passed, and the country settled down into comparative
quiet. Jan. 1, 1801, Articles of Union were agreed upon, and from then
till now, with occasional outbreaks and riots, England has maintained
her hold. Much of the work done by Henry VIII. has been good in its
results; but much has proved to be wrong in the extreme. The principle
of entailing landed estates tends to impoverish the people, drive them
to emigration, and so depopulate the country. These are the seeds of
decay for not only Ireland, but for England herself. It is a wrong "so
rank it smells to heaven," and deliverance is sure to come. And now, we
bid adieu to Ireland, where we have enjoyed so much, and for whose good
time coming we watch and wait in sympathy with her sons.
ENGLAND.
CHAPTER V.
LIVERPOOL--CHESTER--SHREWSBURY--WORCESTER--HEREFORD.
Steamers leave Dublin every week-night for Liverpool, as they do Fall
River for New York, and the distance is about the same. It involves a
trip of a few miles out of Dublin harbor and bay, across St. George's
channel, and four miles up the River Mersey at the other end. It is an
English custom to put the name of the river last, while Americans put
it first. It would sound very odd to an American to hear the remark
River Ohio or River Mississippi; and so it would to an Englishman, to
hear the expression Thames River.
Every wise tourist, on visiting New York for the first time, is on deck
early to see the approaches to the harbor, and the scenery below the
city. One visiting Liverpool will do likewise; for this is to be his
first view of the Mother Country. We were on our steamer's deck at 5
o'clock A. M., on Friday morning, May 3. In the distance, on
our right, towered up, though somewhat obscurely, the bold headland
of Holyhead, a part of Wales. As we approach it we discover the
great gorge in the rock, and the bridge over it, and also the white
lighthouse and long, substantial breakwater for the defence of the
harbor. Sweeping in a curved course to the southeastward we see the
Welsh high uplands, with their thrifty farms and many windmills. Behind
these, as a splendid background, the Welsh mountains loom up, and the
peaks of Snowden and other highlands show themselves.
We now pass an interesting object,--an assemblage of rocks called the
Skerries, three miles or so distant from the Welsh shore. They are
very dangerous, and are lighted, being directly in the way of passage
to the River Mersey. Next we arrive at Point Lynas, the pilot-station
for Liverpool. Near it is Orme's Head, a rough promontory on which is
a lighthouse, having a Fresnel light, one of the most powerful in the
world. To add to the picturesqueness of the scenery, here and there are
little Welsh villages, cosily situated, and nestling at the base of
the hills. Among them is Llandudno and the watering-places; and so we
anticipate a higher type of civilization, signs of which are on every
hand.
Not far from the mouth of the Mersey, fresh evidences of commercial
life present themselves. Steamers, pilot-boats, and tugs thicken,
and we know we are nearing a port of no ordinary importance. We pass
the Northwest Lightship, and soon after hear the bell-buoy on the
bar sending out its plaintive warning as it pitches and rolls. Like
faithful sentinels are Formby and Crosby lightships; and at the right
is Rock Light, at New Brighton.
This place is the end of the peninsula, which for five miles stretches
down the river, and is the shore opposite Liverpool and its suburbs.
It is a pleasant and cheap watering-place, and one much sought by the
common people. Steamboats from Liverpool run half-hourly between the
places. New Brighton has a good beach, and there are many restaurants
along the upper side. An old stone fort is one of the objects of
interest, and free to visitors. On any fair day may be seen thousands
of people promenading over the beach, or riding in teams or on Irish
donkeys, which are at various stations ready for hire, most of them
owned by aged men and women, and let for a single ride or by the hour.
Here are stands for the sale of round clams (_quahaugs_, as we call
them), muscles, periwinkles, and, it may be, a few poor oysters. There
are also cheap refreshment tables, and facilities for the entertainment
of children, such as Punch and Judy, swings, revolving horses. From
this place, along the right bank of the river, the landscape is
diversified with low hills, clean fields, woods, and groves, with
here and there a little settlement. Opposite the city proper lies
Birkenhead, a busy place, with docks and shipping, of its own, and a
population of 65,980. In 1818 Birkenhead had but fifty inhabitants, but
they have trebled since 1851, a rapidity seldom witnessed in the Old
World.
Up the Mersey on the left side, the landscape is picturesque and rural.
Along the river, on comparatively level land, with a slight rise at the
rear, and some especially elevated points at the extreme upper end,
lies the substantial and sombre city of Liverpool. It has literally
forests of masts. There are no wharves extending into the river, but
at stated intervals are openings into the famous docks. These are
controlled by oaken gates, of which there are eight in all, some of
them a hundred feet wide. They are opened and closed twice daily, at
turns of the tide. The docks are built of hewn stone, the oldest of a
perishable sandstone, but the newer of granite. They are built somewhat
in the rear of the outer or river docks, and open into each other.
The spaces between them are used like our wharves, as sites for large
warehouses and sheds of deposit. These docks and landing-places extend
five miles on the Liverpool side of the river, and two miles on the
Birkenhead side. In the aggregate, the docks cover 404 acres, or about
two thirds of a square mile. The aggregate length of the wharf space is
sixteen miles on the Liverpool side, and ten miles at Birkenhead. The
cost was $50,000,000, $35,000,000 of which was expended at Liverpool.
The Landing Stage, as it is called, where passage is taken to the
steamers, is an enormous floating platform, supported on iron tanks,
and is along the business centre of the city, outside of the main
street or sea-wall, which is five miles long, eleven feet thick, and
forty feet in average height from its foundations.
At the beginning of the eighteenth century Liverpool had but one dock;
but between 1830 and 1860, over twenty-five new ones were opened.
The place is of considerable antiquity, and is first spoken of, in any
authentic record, in a charter of Henry II., bearing date 1173, by
which document the privileges of a seaport were secured; and in 1207
King John granted it a municipal charter. Henry III. constituted it a
free borough in 1229. It made but little progress for centuries, and
was a scene of sanguinary conflict in 1644, for during the contest
between Charles I. and his Parliament, this place resisted the King.
After a month's determined opposition, it was taken by Prince Rupert,
and was soon afterwards largely reduced in population by pestilence and
famine. In 1699 it had not more than five thousand inhabitants.
There is no other foreign city so influenced by the United States. Its
condition, advancement, and progress have been in proportion to our
advancement; for upon the fluctuations of trade it has, for a third of
a century, been somewhat dependent. The general look of the city is
like that of the older parts of New York or Boston, which it resembles
more than it does any place in Europe.
Its streets are generally wide, clean, and are always well paved.
Its buildings are very substantial. They are of brick or stone; but
from the large amount of smoke from the bituminous coal, and the
damp, and--in winter--foggy atmosphere, they have an old and dingy
appearance. Particularly is this true of most of the churches, with
their square towers. The city proper has few very good church edifices;
but it has many old ones, some of them surrounded by burial-grounds, in
the very heart of the city. These churchyards are not only treeless,
but they are without shrubs, or even grass. An acre is sometimes
covered with slabs of stone, level with the ground. They are about
three feet wide and six long, set close together, with hardly a
crevice, and on them are cut the epitaphs.
St. George's Hall, a colossal and superb structure, has one of the
largest organs in the world, and exhibitions of it are given two or
three times a week for the small admission fee of a sixpence (twelve
cents). At the time of our visit, there were full one thousand people
present. It has a good art-gallery, in which are many fine paintings by
the Masters.
Drunkenness abounds. In no other place did we see so much drunkenness
or so many rum shops. A visit to the police court, and a stay of
a couple of hours there, exhibited more inebriation, poverty, and
destitution than we could imagine as existing as we walked through
the streets of the city. We were informed by the judge that he had on
his book one hundred and ninety-four cases for drunkenness alone, or
crimes growing immediately out of it; and that in some way all must
be disposed of that day, as to-morrow was likely to bring as many or
more. Some offenders had been before his court over sixty times. Such
victims were released, as would be so many wild animals or lepers, the
kind-hearted judge simply lecturing them, and expressing his sorrow
for what in these years he had been compelled to witness daily. He was
humane in all his considerations. We could but tell him that he was
a remarkable man, to be able for years to be in the presence of this
mass of evil and degradation, and not become hardened in feeling, but
retain a sympathetic yet judicious determination and manhood. Never did
a case occur where with more propriety the old remark might be justly
made, "the right man in the right place." We went away somewhat sad,
as we thought of the upright judge's remark, made so innocently, that
we intelligent Americans prohibited this evil and governed it better
than did the people of England. Said he: "Close up the rum shops as
your people do, and my occupation would end." Alas! Would that we
did thus close them, for so would most of our judges' occupations be
gone. But no! In enlightened Boston there are churches, schoolhouses,
and asylums,--and thousands of vile rum-holes sandwiched between,
making void the good done by the former, and furnishing inmates for
station-house and prison.
The suburbs of Liverpool are very fine, and in appearance much like
those of Boston. Horse-cars and omnibuses constantly ply between the
city and these places. Sefton Park is inexpressibly fine in itself, and
in its distant rural scenery; and Toxton (Brookline, we might consider
it) is of great rural beauty. The distant view of the old red church
tower, cathedral-like and grand, situated on elevated ground, peering
up out of shade-trees that obscured other parts of the building, and
even the larger portion of the village itself; small lakes gleaming
in the sun; the evidence of high civilization,--made us long to see
more of Old England,--of these "sweet Auburns," lovely villages of the
plain; and we were soon gratified, for at 2.20 o'clock P. M.,
Saturday, we took cars for the city of
CHESTER.
Who that travels would risk his reputation as a person of taste, and
not go to Chester? A fare of $1.50 each brought us to this Mecca; for
as the Jews of old must go to Mt. Zion, so must the England-visiting
American go to Chester. First, a few words about the city itself; and
here the brain acts sluggishly, and the pen rebels at the thought of
describing what has been described so many times before. We arrived
after an hour and forty minutes' ride from Liverpool.
Chester is the capital of Cheshire, and is situated on the River Dee,
with a population of 35,701. It was a Roman station known as Deva
Castra. It is nearly surrounded by the river, and the original portion
of the city is encompassed with an ancient wall having low towers at
special points. This wall is in perfect condition, and is the best
specimen of its kind in all England. The foundations are Roman, and
part of this work is visible, and is an item of much interest. The
upper portions, resting on the Roman base, date from the time of Edward
I., who was born at Westminster in 1239, and died 1307; and so the wall
is nearly six hundred years old. It is about eight feet thick at the
top, and varies in thickness at the bottom according to its height,
which, of course, is determined by the irregular surface of the land.
The space enclosed is a parallelogram, planned like all Roman camps,
with a gate or entrance in the middle of each of the four sides, the
main streets intersecting at the centre of the town.
There are at stated intervals stone stairs, leading up to the walk at
the top of the wall, and this is a common promenade for the public, and
more especially for strangers, as from this elevation, a large portion
of the entire city is seen, and the view of the outside scenery is most
enchanting.
There are streets, and a busy population of dwellers on both sides
of the walls. Here, too, is a noble field called Grosvenor Park,
many acres in extent, used as pleasure-grounds for the public, or
as a parade for soldiers, whose barracks are near. As a background,
bordering it, half a mile away, are the grounds of fine mansions,
half embowered with trees. As we pass around to the left, we see the
muddy banks and meadow-like borders of the River Dee. Opposite this,
making the other shore, is a dirty fishing-town, with its principal
street extending up from the river. This is called Sty Lane,--at least
by some people. Here we saw from the walls, where we were walking, a
Hogarthlike nest of dilapidated buildings and destitution. There were
the sights and sounds of a veritable Saturday-night row, in which men,
women, and children were promiscuously mingled. It was a good specimen
of a bad original. After a sight like this, we were inclined to give
Hogarth less credit as an inventor than we had before done; for he had
sights worthy his pencil at hand, without an effort of his imagination.
Continuing our walk along to where the river runs sluggishly beside the
walls, we extend our delightful tramp. Encircling the old town thus,
occupies us nearly an hour. On our way, just inside the walls, are
ruins of small lodges, antique and ivy-clad; and on the top of the wall
itself is a little tower, on which is an inscription, cut in a stone
tablet, telling that from its floor King Charles I. beheld the defeat
of Rowton Moor, in 1645. These walls are built of a dark-reddish stone,
well laid in white mortar, and have a very antiquated appearance.
There is a breastwork, or parapet, three feet high on each side for
protection, and capped with long, rough-cut stones. Having finished
our circuit we, much against our inclination, go down one of the
stairways, and into the street within the walls, where we continue our
explorations, confessing that our early dislike of the task of writing
up this city has about vanished. So marked was the early impression
of peculiar interest and novelty, and so fully satisfying to our
anticipations, that when we finally left the city we could not help
feeling as did one of old when he said, with the change of but one
word,--"If I ever forget thee O Chester, may my right hand forget her
cunning." We were not the first Americans who have thought and felt
thus; no one who has ever seen Chester will or can forget her. The cry
once was, "Great is Diana of the Ephesians." We ejaculate "Great is
Chester of the Britons."
The queer old streets are interesting in the extreme. Narrow and
short, but clean, they are said to be at right-angles with each other;
and perhaps they are. The buildings are quaint, antique, and of all
designs, the second story often projecting beyond the first, and the
third beyond the second, and the gable end out over that. Their general
appearance so attracts attention that nothing in particular is noted,
so far as relates to the arrangement of the city itself. The Rows,
as they are called, that is, the covered sidewalks in the older and
business streets, are built in under the second stories, and are paved.
The different store-sections are out of level, each with its neighbor,
though tolerably level through the length of the entire streets. Often
the ceilings of these walks are low enough to touch with the hand;
generally the floor, or pavement, is raised from two to four feet above
the grade of the street. Of course the shops are back of these. The
idea is not a bad one. In times of foul weather or of strong sun, the
Rows are protections. The entire width between the buildings being
given to teams, renders it much safer for pedestrians.
The majority of the buildings are built with their ends to the street,
showing gables with the high roof or attic ends, with elaborate
decorations, and these afford a fine opportunity for a display of
quaint finish. Many of these buildings have a framework of oak, more or
less carved, with brickwork fitted into the frame, and plastered and
painted, generally with subdued tints. The people are to be commended
for the good taste and judgment displayed in their rebuilding; for when
a new edifice takes the place of one removed, the new design, while it
may increase the height of the stories, and add other real improvements
and conveniences, yet preserves the old style. Chester is a lively,
bustling, and enterprising business place--a gem in its way.
Of course the cathedral comes in for early attention. So long as
Charles Kingsley--Canon Kingsley, for here he was made canon in
1869--is remembered, so long will the cathedral be of interest.
It is situated in the very centre of the city. Jammed in among
other buildings, with no quiet grass and aged trees about it, the
pavements lead up to its very doors. It is irregular in outline,
dark-reddish-brown in color, aged in appearance, with a massive low
tower, but no spire above it. The transept, choir, and nave windows
are of monstrous size, not much higher than wide, filled with elegant
perpendicular Gothic tracery, and divided into many compartments. The
interior is in good repair,--_restored_, as it is termed. Here, as in
all cathedrals, there is a stone floor, and hundreds of inscriptions
that tell of those who are quietly resting beneath.
"Their labors done, securely laid
In this, their last retreat,
Unheeded o'er their silent dust
The storms of life shall beat."
The building was originally the abbey of St. Werburgh, built for
the Benedictines,--begun in 1095 by Hugh Lupus, assisted by St.
Anselm,--and retains its original design.
The next object of interest, and one truly remarkable, is the church
of St. John, once the cathedral. It is situated about five minutes'
walk away from the cathedral proper, and, unlike that, stands in a
large green, or close, for centuries used as a burial-ground. The red
tower is very high, yet without a spire, and partly in ruins. It stands
almost alone in solitary beauty, with picturesque ivy-clad cloisters
and arches, presenting a striking and wonderful group, which tells of
the remote past. The old tower, colossal and grand, but in such decay
as to make it dangerous to ring the bells (and fallen since we saw it),
is connected with what was formerly the nave of the church; and this
is now, with slight additions for a chancel, all that is used, a new
end having years ago been put on at the line of transepts. St. John's
is of early English architecture in some parts, and late Norman in
others, having large, plain, round columns that carry the arches of the
clerestory. These columns lean outward from the perpendicular, making
the nave wider at the top, and the widening was thought to have been
caused by a settling of the old stone groining. On making repairs a few
years since, the height of the clerestory walls was foolishly reduced
some four feet, and a lower wood ceiling put in to lessen the weight
on the columns; but it was at length discovered that the original was
built for effect,--whether for good or for ill, we will not decide. In
picturesqueness never excelled, St. John's Church, with its grounds and
accompanying ruins, not only divides the honors with the cathedral, but
by many would be named first.
Chester is the seat of rare monuments of the past. The castle, built by
Lupus, Earl of Chester, seven hundred and more years ago, while it has
been largely re-constructed, is used as the shire hall, and contains
many portraits of noted men who have been distinguished in the city's
history. Near the castle is a fine old stone bridge crossing the Dee,
with a single arch of two hundred feet. There is, in the suburbs, a
curious manorhouse, once belonging to the abbey of St. Werburgh; Eaton
Hall, the seat of the Marquis of Westminster; and a ground where famous
races are held. Cheese fairs occur once a month, promiscuous fairs
three times a year, and markets twice a week; and the city gives the
title of Earl to the Prince of Wales.
At 10 A. M. we visited the military barracks, and in the
parade-ground, with thousands of other spectators, witnessed the usual
Sunday drill, and also the military evolutions, such as striking tents
and stacking arms. Some five hundred soldiers were engaged in these
operations on this Christian Sunday, made especially sacred by its
associations with the Prince of Peace. At this hour, amid the sound
of innumerable chimes of from three to five bells each, were the
intermingling sound of trumpets and the clamor of war,--so confused
yet each so prominent as to make one doubt which had the inside track,
church or army, God or Satan.
In the afternoon we were at the cathedral, and, the service being
intoned, the echoes made confusion worse confounded. We finally saw
more clearly than ever before the force of the remark of one of old,
when he said: "In the church I had rather speak five words with my
understanding, that by my voice I might teach others also, than ten
thousand words in an unknown tongue." We have thought, while enveloped
in this confusion, that it would be well for the managers of cathedral
services everywhere, to be thoughtful as St. Paul was, and say:
"Whether pipe or harp, except they give a distinction in the sounds,
how shall it be known what is piped or harped?"
There is one especial object of American interest. In the chapter-house
there hang over the doors two flags that were carried by the Cheshire
Regiment--the 22d--at the Battle of Bunker Hill in our American
Revolution; and they were also carried by General Wolfe at the taking
of Quebec in 1759, sixteen years before. It will thus be seen that
soldiers from this county were at Charlestown, June 17, 1775.
There are some very ancient houses of particular note. They are of the
old timbered and panel-plastered fashion, with very fine specimens of
profuse and sometimes grotesque carving. Among them is God's Providence
House. Its three stories and gable project over each other as before
described. The historical fact is that, when the plague prevailed,
there were deaths in every house on the street save this one, and after
all was over, the owner put this inscription upon it, which remains to
this day:
GOD'S PROVIDENCE IS MY SALVATION.
Of bold and high decoration, by carving of the wooden parts, is Stanley
House, with its three gables. This is one of the best specimens of
ancient timber and plaster-work to be found in England.
On Bridge Street there is an ancient Roman bath that well repays a
visit, for we are there permitted to look upon work a thousand years
old. Do we realize or comprehend the fact? No; but the impression, with
a photographic fidelity, has been made on the mind, and will never be
effaced. Let what will happen, so long as memory acts and intelligence
remains, the good influence of these impressions will endure. The mind
is truly, as the poet has expressed it,--
Like the vase in which roses have once been distilled,
You may break, you may ruin the vase, if you will,
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.
In closing our description of grand old Chester, we will name the fact
that in Trinity Church are the tombs of the poet Thomas Parnell, who
was born at Dublin, 1679, and died at Chester in July, 1717; and of
the eminent commentator, Matthew Henry, born at Broad Oak, Flintshire,
1662, and died at Nantwich, June 22, 1714. He became pastor of a church
in Chester--perhaps Trinity--in 1687, and remained till 1702, a period
of twenty-five years. The Commentary was the result of his lectures in
exposition of the Bible, the whole of which is said to have been thus
passed in critical review during his ministry at Chester. He continued
the lectures at Hackney, to which place he removed in 1712. The first
collected edition was published at London, in five volumes, in 1710,
but to Chester really belongs the honor of being the place where this
work, so well known the Protestant world over, had its birth.
It would be pleasant to linger in this venerable place. We had enjoyed
so much antiquity at Chester that we could hardly endure the shock of
being suddenly dropped into some modern spot; and so the place set
down in our programme as next in order was the one, of all others,
admirably in keeping with our purpose. This was the good old domestic
town of
SHREWSBURY,
of well-known Cake notoriety. We took passage at 5.10 P. M.
this same Sunday evening; and while the sun was high above the horizon,
at 7 o'clock, we were safely landed at Station Hotel. Soon after
supper, as English people call it, we were out for a tramp. There's
always an indescribable impatience in the tourist to see the place.
There's a great deal of the can't-comfortably-wait condition, and
it generally has soon to be gratified. We were early in love with
the town. How comfortably we had been let down from Chester, and how
unharmed we felt! The quaintness discovered in the narrow streets and
the ancient buildings made it a second Chester; but we thought we saw
in the mansions more of stateliness, costliness, and evidences of a
substantial English aristocracy. The better class of houses were like
the first-class three-story brick mansions at Salem and Newburyport,
making one feel at home. Here and there were newer buildings of modern
style, which made a worthy connecting link between the old dispensation
and the new; for there were buildings as modern as are anywhere built,
and some as ancient as are to be found anywhere, almost equalling
those so justly adored at Chester. Shrewsbury is the shire town of
Shropshire, and has a population of 23,406. It has the remains of an
ancient castle, and some of the old walls of the city are yet standing.
The River Severn, a sluggish and muddy stream, some three hundred feet
wide, divides the town. The older portion is connected by two bridges,
and also by a cheap rope-ferry, with the other side, on which are rural
residences and public-entertainment grounds.
When we speak of the River Severn our interest is intensified by the
thought of a great historic fact. In 1428, by order of Clement VIII.,
the body of Wycliffe, which since 1415 had been buried in a dunghill,
to which it had been consigned by order of the Council of Constance,
was exhumed and burned to ashes, and these were thrown into the little
River Swift, a tributary of the Avon. This gave birth to the fine old
verse:--
The Avon to the Severn runs,
The Severn to the sea;
And Wycliffe's dust shall spread abroad
Wide as the waters be.
The river curves, and partly encircles the city; and on its banks we
found the public park, and near it St. Chad's circular stone church,
with its large square tower above a portico, crowned with a belfry,
under which are great clock dials. The park is simply an ordinarily
well-kept grass ground, of perhaps one third the size of Boston Common.
It has three or four superb avenues of old lime-trees, and Quarry Walk
is one of the finest in Europe. Tradition has it that all of these
linden-trees were set out by one man, more than a century and a half
ago. The ruins of Battlefield Church, now little appreciated, roofless
and dilapidated, are four miles away. This is famous as being the place
where _Sir John Falstaff_ "fought an hour by Shrewsbury Clock."
The town was an important one as early as the twelfth century, and
prominent at times as being the place of royal residence. Parliaments
were held here in 1283 and in 1398. In 1403--ninety years before the
discovery of America by Columbus--the famous Battle of Hotspur was
fought near here, in which that distinguished soldier was killed. In
1277 it was the temporary residence of Edward I., and to this place
he removed the King's Bench and Court of Exchequer during the Wars of
the Roses. The inhabitants took part with the House of York, and it
was the asylum of the queen of Edward IV. after having given birth
to the princes Edward and Richard, the two children who are supposed
to have been murdered in the Tower of London by Richard III. As will
be seen, the place is intimately connected with historic facts.
Remembrance of this contributes a charm not well expressed in words. As
we walked over these streets, through which distinguished personages
have walked, and by houses which intelligent people have occupied for
a thousand years,--as we thought of many generations who here lived,
labored, and died, their dust now mingling with the soil of its ancient
burial-grounds, or resting in the tombs of its venerable churches,
within sound of the same vesper bells to which we were listening at
the close of this pleasant Sunday evening,--as these reflections took
possession of our minds, the quiet sanctity of the Puritan New England
Sunday was about us, and we felt that we were in a befitting place to
end a day so well and interestingly begun at Chester.
Sunday night is passed, and Monday, May 5, is at hand. As usual we are
impatient for more experiences. Our thoughts are mingled with regrets,
tinted with righteous indignation, that American tourists so neglect
these places, and hurry to others of more metropolitan renown, but of
less real interest to any one who would see England in her best estate.
Their loss--a great one--is nobody's gain. A fine walk this of to-day,
through street after street of good business activity.
Now was the time to attend to another duty. In passing a store we saw
a notice, high up on a building, that here were made the original
Shrewsbury cakes. We found that the recipe had been in use for over one
hundred years, dating from 1760; that for as long a time the cakes had
been there manufactured, and were now enjoying an enviable reputation
the world over; and also that it was not an uncommon occurrence to send
them b
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