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Seeing Europe with Famous Authors

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Above two centuries before this arrangement, however, as the diocese of
Dublin contained two cathedrals--St. Patrick's and Christ Church--an
agreement was made between the chapters of both, that each church should
be called Cathedral and Metropolitan, but that Christ Church should have
precedence, as being the elder church, and that the archbishops should
be buried alternately in the two cathedrals.

The sweeping censure of Sir Richard Colt Hoare, that "in point of good
architecture it has little to notice or commend," is not to be
questioned; ruins--and, in its present state, St. Patrick's approaches
very near to be classed among them--of far greater beauty abound in
Ireland. It is to its associations with the past that the cathedral is
mainly indebted for its interest. The choral music of St. Patrick's is
said to be "almost unrivalled for its combined powers of voice, organ,
and scientific skill."



LIMERICK [Footnote: From "Ireland: Its Scenery, Character, Etc."]

BY MR. AND MRS. S. C. HALL

Limerick is distinguished in history as "the city of the violated
treaty;" and the Shannon, on which it stands, has been aptly termed "the
King of Island Rivers." Few of the Irish counties possess so many
attractions for the antiquarian and the lover of the picturesque: and
with one exception, no city of Ireland has contributed so largely to
maintain the honor and glory of the country. The brave defenders of
Limerick and Londonderry have received--the former from the Protestant,
and the latter from the Catholic, historian--the praise that party
spirit failed to weaken; the heroic gallantry, the indomitable
perseverance, and the patient and resolute endurance under suffering, of
both, having deprived political partizans of their asperity--compelling
them, for once at least, to render justice to their opponents; all
having readily subscribed to the opinion that "Derry and Limerick will
ever grace the historic page, as rival companions and monuments of Irish
bravery, generosity, and integrity."

From a very early period Limerick has held rank among the cities of
Ireland, second only to that of the capital; and before its walls were
defeated, first, the Anglo-Norman chivalry; next, the sturdy Ironsides
of Cromwell; and last, the victorious array of William the Third. Like
most of the Irish sea-ports, it was, in the ninth and tenth centuries, a
settlement of the Danes, between whom and the native Irish many
encounters took place, until finally the race of the sea-kings was
expelled from the country.

It is certain that at this early period Limerick was a place of
considerable importance; for some time after, indeed until the conquest
by the English, it was the capital of the province, and the seat of the
kings of Thomond, or North Munster, who were hence called Kings of
Limerick. Upon the arrival of Strongbow, Donnell O'Brien swore fealty to
Henry the Second, but subsequently revolted; and Raymond Le Gros, the
bravest and noblest of all the followers of Strongbow, laid siege to his
city. Limerick was at that time "environed with a foule and deepe ditch
with running water, not to be passed over without boats, but by one
foord only;" the English soldiers were therefore discouraged, and would
have abandoned the attempt to take it, but that "a valiaunt knight,
Meyler Fitz-Henry, having found the foord, wyth a loud voyce cried 'St.
David, companions, let us corageouslie pass this foord.'" For some years
after the city was alternately in the possession of the English and the
Irish; on the death of Strongbow, it was surrendered to the keeping of
its native prince, who swore to govern it for the King of England; but
the British knights had scarcely passed the bridge, when he destroyed it
and set fire to the town.

After again repeatedly changing hands, it was finally settled by the
renowned William de Burgo, ancestor of the present Marquis of
Clanricarde, and remained an appanage to the English crown. At this
period, and for some time after, Limerick, was "next in consequence" to
Dublin. Richard the First, in the ninth year of his reign, granted it a
charter to elect a mayor--an honor which London did not then enjoy, and
which Dublin did not receive until a century later; and King John,
according to Stanihurst, was "so pleased with the agreeableness of the
city, that he caused a very fine castle and bridge to be built there."
The castle has endured for above six centuries; in all the "battles,
sieges, fortunes," that have since occurred, it has been the object most
coveted, perhaps in Ireland, by the contending parties; and it still
frowns, a dark mass, upon the waters of the mighty Shannon. The great
attraction of Limerick--altho by no means the only one--is, however, its
majestic, and beautiful river: "the king of island rivers,"--the
"principallest of all in Ireland," writes the quaint old naturalist, Dr.
Gerrard Boate. It takes its rise among the mountains of Leitrim--strange
to say, the precise spot has not been ascertained--and running for a few
miles as an inconsiderable stream, diffuses itself into a spacious lake,
called Lough Allyn. Issuing thence it pursues its course for several
miles, and forms another small lake, Lough Eike; again spreads itself
out into Lough Ree,--a lake fifteen miles in length and four in breadth;
and thence proceeds as a broad and rapid river, passing by Athlone; then
narrowing again until it reaches Shannon harbor; then widening into
far-famed Lough Derg, eighteen miles long and four broad; then
progressing until it arrives at Killaloe, where it ceases to be
navigable until it waters. Limerick city; from whence it flows in a
broad and majestic volume to the ocean for about sixty miles; running a
distance of upward of 200 miles from its source to its mouth--between
Loop Head and Kerry Head (the space between them being about eight
miles), watering ten counties in its progress, and affording facilities
for commerce and internal intercourse such as are unparalleled in any
other portion of the United Kingdom.

"The spacious Shenan spreading like a sea," thus answers to the
description of Spenser; for a long space its course is so gentle that
ancient writers supposed its name to have been derived from "Seen-awn,"
the slow river; and for many miles, between O'Brien's Bridge and
Limerick, it rolls so rapidly along as almost to be characterized as a
series of cataracts. At the falls of Killaloe, it descends twenty-one
feet in a mile; and above one hundred feet from Killaloe to Limerick....
Its banks too are, nearly all along its course, of surpassing beauty; as
it nears Limerick, the adjacent hills are crowned with villas; and upon
its sides are the ruins of many ancient castles. Castle Connell, a
village about six miles from the city, is perhaps unrivaled in the
kingdom for natural graces; and immediately below it are the Falls of
Doonas where the river rushes over huge mountain-rocks, affording a
passage which the more daring only will make; for the current--narrowed
to a boat's breadth--rushes along with such frightful rapidity, that the
deviation of a few inches would be inevitable destruction.

The immediate environs of Limerick are not picturesque; the city lies in
a spacious plain, the greater portion of which is scarcely above the
level of the water: at short distances, however, there are some of the
most interesting ruins in the kingdom, in the midst of scenery of
surpassing loveliness. Of these, the tourist should first visit
Carrig-o-gunnel, next Adare, and then Castle Connell, the most beautiful
of many beautiful places upon the banks of the noble Shannon.



FROM BELFAST TO DUBLIN [Footnote: From "Letters of a Traveler."]

BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT

We left Glasgow on the morning of the 22d, and taking the railway to
Ardrossan were soon at the beach. One of those iron steamers which
navigate the British waters, far inferior to our own in commodious and
comfortable arrangements, but strong and safe, received us on board, and
at ten o'clock we were on our way to Belfast.

The coast of Ayr, with the cliff near the birthplace of Burns, continued
long in sight; we passed near the mountains of Arran, high and bare
steeps swelling out of the sea, which had a look of almost complete
solitude; and at length Ailsa Craig began faintly to show itself, high
above the horizon, through the thick atmosphere.

We passed this lonely rock, about which flocks of sea-birds, the solan
goose, and the gannet, on long white wings with jetty tips, were
continually wheeling, and with a glass we could discern them sitting by
thousands on the shelves of the rock, where they breed. The upper part
of Ailsa, above the cliffs which reach more than half-way to the summit,
appears not to be destitute of soil, for it was tinged with a
faint verdure.

In about nine hours we had crossed the channel, over smooth water, and
were making our way, between green shores almost without a tree, up the
bay, at the bottom of which stands, or rather lies, for its site is low,
the town of Belfast. We had yet enough of daylight left to explore a
part at least of the city. "It looks like Albany," said my companion,
and really the place bears some resemblance to the streets of Albany
which are situated near the river, nor is it without an appearance of
commercial activity.

The people of Belfast, you know, are of Scotch origin, with some
infusion of the original race of Ireland. I heard English spoken with a
Scotch accent, but I was obliged to own that the severity of the Scotch
physiognomy had been softened by the migration and the mingling of
breed.... At an early hour the next day we were in our seats on the
outside of the mail-coach. We passed through a well-cultivated country,
interspersed with towns which had an appearance of activity and thrift.
The dwellings of the cottagers looked more comfortable than those of the
same class in Scotland, and we were struck with the good looks of the
people, men and women, whom we passed in great numbers going to
their work.

At length, having traversed the county of Down, we entered Louth....
Close on the confines of Armagh, perhaps partly within it, we traversed,
near the village of Jonesborough, a valley full of the habitations of
peat-diggers. Its aspect was most remarkable, the barren hills that
inclose it were dark with heath and gorse and with ledges of brown rock,
and their lower declivities, as well as the level of the valley, black
with peat, which had been cut from the ground and laid in rows.

The men were at work with spades cutting it from the soil, and the women
were pressing the water from the portions thus separated, and exposing
it to the air to dry.... It is the property of peat earth to absorb a
large quantity of water, and to part with it slowly. The springs,
therefore, in a region abounding with peat make no brooks; the water
passes into spongy soil and remains there, forming morasses even on the
slopes of the hills.

As we passed out of this black valley we entered a kind of glen, and the
guard, a man in a laced hat and scarlet coat, pointed to the left, and
said, "There is a pretty place." It was a beautiful park along a
hillside, groves and lawns, a broad domain, jealously inclosed by a
thick and high wall, beyond which we had, through the trees, a glimpse
of a stately mansion.

Our guard was a genuine Irishman, strongly resembling the late actor
Power in physiognomy, with the very brogue which Power sometimes gave to
his personages. He was a man of pithy speech, communicative, and
acquainted apparently with everybody of every class, whom we passed on
the road. Besides him we had for fellow-passengers three very
intelligent Irishmen, on their way to Dublin. One of them was a tall,
handsome gentleman, with dark hair and hazel eyes, and a rich
South-Irish brogue. He was fond of his joke, but next to him sat a
graver personage, in spectacles, equally tall, with fair hair and
light-blue eyes, speaking with a decided Scotch accent. By my side was a
square-built, fresh-colored personage, who had traveled in America, and
whose accent was almost English. I thought I could not be mistaken in
supposing them to be samples of the three different races by which
Ireland is peopled.

We now entered a fertile district, meadows heavy with grass, in which
the haymakers were at work, and fields of wheat and barley as fine as I
had ever seen.... One or two green mounds stood close to the road, and
we saw others at a distance.

"They are Danish forts," said the guard.

"Every thing we do not know the history of, we put upon the Danes,"
added the South of Ireland man.

These grassy mounds, which are from ten to twenty feet in height, are
now supposed to have been the burial places of the ancient Celts. The
peasantry can with difficulty be persuaded to open any of them, on
account of a prevalent superstition that it will bring bad luck.

A little before we arrived at Drogheda, I saw a tower to the right,
apparently a hundred feet in height, with a doorway at a great distance
from the ground, and a summit somewhat dilapidated.

"That is one of the round towers of Ireland, concerning which there is
so much discussion," said my English-looking fellow-traveler.

These round towers, as the Dublin antiquarians tell me, were probably
built by the early Christian missionaries from Italy, about the seventh
century, and were used as places of retreat and defense against
the pagans.

Not far from Drogheda, I saw at a distance a quiet-looking valley.

"That," said the English-looking passenger, "is the valley of the Boyne,
and in that spot was fought the famous battle of the Boyne."

"Which the Irish are fighting about yet, in America," added the South of
Ireland man.

They pointed out near the spot, a cluster of trees on an eminence, where
James beheld the defeat of his followers. We crossed the Boyne, entered
Drogheda, dismounted among a crowd of beggars, took our places in the
most elegant railway wagon we had ever seen, and in an hour were set
down in Dublin.... I have seen no loftier nor more spacious dwellings
than those which overlook St. Stephen's Green, a noble park, planted
with trees, under which this showery sky and mild temperature maintain a
verdure all the year, even in mid-winter. About Merrion square, another
park, the houses have scarcely a less stately appearance, and one of
these with a strong broad balcony, from which to address the people in
the street, is inhabited by O'Connell. The park of the University, in
the midst of the city, is of great extent, and the beautiful public
grounds called Phenix Park, have a circumference of eight miles.



THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY [Footnote: From "Views Afoot." Published by G. P.
Putnam's Sons.]

BY BAYARD TAYLOR

We passed the Giant's Causeway after dark, and about eleven o'clock
reached the harbor of Port Rush, where, after stumbling up a strange old
street in the dark, we found a little inn, and soon forgot the Irish
coast and everything else.

In the morning, when we arose, it was raining, with little prospect of
fair weather, but having expected nothing better, we set out on foot for
the Causeway. The rain, however, soon came down in torrents, and we were
obliged to take shelter in a cabin by the roadside. The whole house
consisted of one room with bare walls and roof and earthen floor, while
a window of three or four panes supplied the light. A fire of peat was
burning on the hearth, and their breakfast, of potatoes alone, stood on
the table. The occupants received us with rude but genuine hospitality,
giving us the only seats in the room to sit upon; except a rickety
bedstead that stood in one corner and a small table, there was no other
furniture in the house. The man appeared rather intelligent, and, altho
he complained of the hardness of their lot, had no sympathy with
O'Connell or the Repeal movement.

We left this miserable hut as soon as it ceased raining, and, tho there
were many cabins along the road, few were better than this. At length,
after passing the walls of an old church in the midst of older tombs, we
saw the roofless towers of Dunluce Castle on the seashore. It stands on
an isolated rock, rising perpendicularly two hundred feet above the sea,
and connected with the cliffs of the mainland by a narrow arch.

We left the road near Dunluce and walked along the smooth beach to the
cliffs that surround the Causeway. Here we obtained a guide, and
descended to one of the caves which can be entered from the shore.
Opposite the entrance a bare rock called Sea Gull Isle rises out of the
sea like a church-steeple. The roof at first was low, but we shortly
came to a branch that opened on the sea, where the arch was forty-six
feet in height. The breakers dashed far into the cave, and flocks of
sea-birds circled round its mouth. The sound of a gun was like a
deafening peal of thunder, crashing from arch to arch till it rolled out
of the cavern.

On the top of the hill a splendid hotel is erected for visitors to the
Causeway; after passing this we descended to the base of the cliffs,
which are here upward of four hundred feet high, and soon began to find
in the columnar formation of the rocks indications of our approach. The
guide pointed out some columns which appeared to have been melted and
run together, from which Sir Humphrey Davy attributed the formation of
the Causeway to the action of fire. Near this is the Giant's Well, a
spring of the purest water, the bottom formed by three perfect hexagons
and the sides of regular columns. One of us observing that no giant had
ever drunk from it, the old man answered. "Perhaps not, but it was made
by a giant--God Almighty!"

From the well the Causeway commences--a mass of columns from triangular
to octagonal, lying in compact forms and extending into the sea. I was
somewhat disappointed at first, having supposed the Causeway to be of
great height, but I found the Giant's Loom, which is the highest part of
it, to be but about fifty feet from the water. The singular appearance
of the columns and the many strange forms which they assume render it,
nevertheless, an object of the greatest interest. Walking out on the
rocks, we came to the Ladies' Chair, the seat, back sides and foot-stool
being all regularly formed by the broken columns. The guide said that
any lady who would take three drinks from the Giant's Well, then sit in
this chair and think of any gentleman for whom she had a preference,
would be married before a twelvemonth. I asked him if it would answer as
well for gentlemen, for by a wonderful coincidence we had each drank
three times at the well. He said it would, and thought he was confirming
his statement.

A cluster of columns about half-way up the cliff is called the Giant's
Organ from its very striking resemblance to that instrument, and a
single rock worn by the waves into the shape of a rude seat is his
chair. A mile or two farther along the coast two cliffs project from the
range, leaving a vast semicircular space between, which from its
resemblance to the old Roman theaters was appropriated for that purpose
by the giant. Halfway down the crags are two or three pinnacles of rock
called the Chimneys, and the stumps of several others can be seen,
which, it is said, were shot off by a vessel belonging to the Spanish
Armada in mistake for the towers of Dunluce Castle. The vessel was
afterward wrecked in the bay below, which has ever since been called
Spanish Bay, and in calm weather the wreck may be still seen. Many of
the columns of the Causeway have been carried off and sold as pillars
for mantels, and tho a notice is put up threatening any one with the
rigor of the law, depredations are occasionally made.

Returning, we left the road at Dunluce and took a path which led along
the summit of the cliffs. The twilight was gathering and the wind blew
with perfect fury, which, combined with the black and stormy sky, gave
the coast an air of extreme wildness. All at once, as we followed the
winding path, the crags, appeared to open before us, disclosing a
yawning chasm down which a large stream falling in an unbroken sheet was
lost in the gloom below. Witnessed in a calm day, there may perhaps be
nothing striking about it, but coming upon us at once through the gloom
of twilight, with the sea thundering below and a scowling sky above, it
was absolutely startling.

The path at last wound with many a steep and slippery bend down the
almost perpendicular crags to the shore at the foot of a giant isolated
rock having a natural arch through it, eighty feet in height. We
followed the narrow strip of beach, having the bare crags on one side
and a line of foaming breakers on the other. It soon grew dark; a
furious storm came up and swept like a hurricane along the shore. I then
understood what Horne means by "the lengthening javelins of the blast,"
for every drop seemed to strike with the force of an arrow, and our
clothes were soon pierced in every part.

Then we went up among the sand-hills and lost each other in the
darkness, when, after stumbling about among the gullies for half an hour
shouting for my companions, I found the road and heard my call answered;
but it happened to be two Irishmen, who came up and said, "And is it
another gintleman ye're callin' for? We heard some one cryin' and didn't
know but somebody might be kilt."

Finally, about eleven o'clock, we all arrived at the inn dripping with
rain, and before a warm fire concluded the adventures of our day
in Ireland.



CORK [Footnote: From "The Irish Sketch Book."]

BY WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.

One sees in this country many a grand and tall iron gate leading into a
very shabby field covered with thistles; and the simile of the gate will
in some degree apply to this famous city of Cork--which is certainly not
a city of palaces, but of which the outlets are magnificent. That toward
Killarney leads by the Lee, the old Avenue of Mardyke, and the rich
green pastures stretching down to the river; and as you pass by the
portico of the country jail, as fine and as glancing as a palace, you
see the wooded heights on the other side of the fair stream, crowded
with a thousand pretty villas and terraces, presenting every image of
comfort and prosperity.

Along the quays up to St. Patrick's Bridge there is a certain bustle.
Some forty ships may be lying at anchor along the walls of the quay;
and its pavements are covered with goods of various merchandise; here a
cargo of hides; yonder a company of soldiers, their kits, and their
dollies, who are taking leave of the redcoats at the steamer's side.
Then you shall see a fine, squeaking, shrieking drove of pigs embarking
by the same conveyance, and insinuated into the steamer by all sorts of
coaxing, threatening, and wheedling. Seamen are singing and yeehoing on
board; grimy colliers smoking at the liquor-shops along the quay; and as
for the bridge-there is a crowd of idlers on that, you may be sure,
sprawling over the balustrade for ever and ever, with long ragged coats,
steeple-hats, and stumpy doodeens.

At the other extremity of the town, if it be assize time, you will see
some five hundred persons squatting in the Court-house, or buzzing and
talking within; the rest of the respectable quarter of the city is
pretty free from anything like bustle. There is no more life in Patrick
Street than in Russell Square of a sunshiny day; and as for the Mall, it
is as lonely as the chief street of a German Residenz.... That the city
contains much wealth is evidenced by the number of handsome, villas
round about it, where the rich merchants dwell; but the warehouses of
the wealthy provision-merchants make no show to the stranger walking the
streets; and of the retail shops, if some are spacious and handsome,
most look as if too big for the business carried on within. The want of
ready money was quite curious. In three of the principal shops I
purchased articles, and tendered a pound in exchange--not one of them
had silver enough; and as for a five-pound note, which I presented at
one of the topping booksellers, his boy went round to various places in
vain, and finally set forth to the bank, where change was got. In
another small shop I offered half-a-crown to pay for a sixpenny
article--it was all the same.

Half a dozen of the public buildings I saw were spacious and shabby
beyond all cockney belief. Adjoining the Imperial Hotel is a great,
large, handsome, desolate reading-room, which was founded by a body of
Cork merchants and tradesmen, and is the very picture of decay. Not
Palmyra--not the Russell Institution in Great Coram Street--present more
melancholy appearances of faded greatness. Opposite this is another
institution, called the Cork Library, where there are plenty of books
and plenty of kindness to the stranger; but the shabbiness and faded
splendor of the place are quite painful.... I have said something in
praise of the manners of the Cork ladies; in regard of the gentlemen, a
stranger must remark the extraordinary degree of literary taste and
talent among them, and the wit and vivacity of their conversation. The
love for literature seems to an Englishman doubly curious. What,
generally speaking, do a company of grave gentlemen and ladies in Baker
Street know about it? Who ever reads books in the City, or how often
does one hear them talked about at a Club? The Cork citizens are the
most book-loving men I ever met. The town has sent to England a number
of literary men, of reputation too, and is not a little proud of their
fame. Everybody seemed to know what Maginn was doing, and that Father
Prout had a third volume ready, and what was Mr. Croker's last article
in the Quarterly. The clerks and shopmen seemed as much "au fait" as
their employers, and many is the conversation I heard about the merits
of this writer or that--Dickens, Ainsworth, Lover, Lever.

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