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Narrative of a residence in Ireland during the Summer of 1814, and that of 1815 (Author: Anne Plumptre)

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Second Departure for Ireland. — Warwick and its Castle. — Liverpool. — Remarks on the rapid Rise of that Town. — Its present Prosperity. — The Athenaeum. — The Lyceum. — The Botanic Garden. — Charitable Institutions. — The New Gothic Church at Everton. — The Theatre. — Disappointments in the Packet sailing. — Determination to go to Holyhead. — Passage-Boat up the Mersey. — The Blind Harper. — Conway Ferry. — Penman-Maur. — Holyhead. — Beautiful Setting-Sun. — Sea-Sickness.

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Far from being satisfied with what I had already seen of Ireland, my first visit only inspired in me an eager wish to become still more acquainted with the country and its inhabitants; and as the summer of 1815 approached, my thoughts were again directed towards it. Some doubts, however, unavoidably arose whether my wishes could be gratified or not; but the question was at length resolved in the affirmative; and having fixed upon Liverpool again as my place of embarkation, I did not, as before, take the route of Bath and Bristol, but went first to Warwick. Here I stopped a day and half with a very pleasant family to whom I was recommended, during that time seeing the noble castle, probably one of the most magnificent structures of the kind that the kingdom can boast; the beautiful seat of Mr. Greathead, at Guy's Cliff, about a mile from


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Warwick; and making a pilgrimage to the shrine of Shakespeare at Stratford-upon-Avon.

From Warwick I proceeded by Birmingham to Liverpool; and now accomplished the idea which had been abandoned the preceding year, — that of stopping awhile to see the town. Though I had never been there, excepting the one night previous to my embarkation the year before, it so happened that from various circumstances I had many acquaintance among the inhabitants, and I was most hospitably received by a son of the gentleman at whose house I had been entertained during my stay at Warwick. I had not purposed staying more than two days; but not finding a packet in equal readiness as the year before, my stay was extended to double that time. On inquiring about packets upon my arrival, I was informed that the Duke of Richmond was expected in from Dublin that day, and would sail again the day after her arrival. Of all the subjects of research which may occupy the human mind, none can be so curious, none can involve such deep interest, as to trace the rise and the downfall of states and of towns. To follow them from the original nothing, whence they spring up, through the gradual progression by which they rise to consequence, to wealth, to grandeur, till arrived at the highest apex allotted them in the great Book of Fate, they gradually, since nothing in this world can be stationary, decline and fade away, till at length they sink again to their original nothing. To those who see Liverpool such as it now is, it is not a little curious to reflect that not till the year 1699 was it a parish of itself, it was but a Hamlet, with a Chapel of Ease, to the parish of Walton. The population of the town was at that time computed at about five thousand souls. In 1710, the number of vessels belonging to it was estimated at not more than eighty-four, averaging only about seventy tons burthen each; the trade, however, was then in so increasing a state, that it was thought necessary to construct a dock, and this was the first constructed.

At present Liverpool contains sixteen churches, with twenty-four other places of worship, including those for Protestant sectaries of various persuasions, for Catholics and for Jews; the population of the town is estimated at a hundred thousand, and her quantity of shipping is computed at a twelfth part of the whole employed by Great Britain. What an extraordinary change in the space of very little more than a century!


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Would that in admiring this astonishing advance in wealth and prosperity, there were no alloy to throw a cloud over the contemplation! — but it must ever remain a painful reflection, that so much of this prosperity was acquired by that dreadful reproach to humanity the African slave-trade. Eternal praise and honour to the exertions of those unwearied philanthropists whose zeal was not to be shaken by opposition, who were not to be deterred by ill success on one occasion from recurring again and again to the charge, till importunity at length obtained what had been denied by justice; — eternal honour to these men! Liverpool is now no longer sullied with such a stain; in common with the rest of the nation, she is freed from it; while in being thus freed she has learnt that even greater wealth and prosperity may be derived from sources untainted with the blood and groans of her fellow-creatures. Let us hope that such of her merchants as had their hands thus soiled, now awakened to a sense of their guilt, look back upon the disgraceful period with shame and remorse, and join to bless those by whom their career was arrested, ere remorse was too late. Nor must it be supposed that there ever was a moment when all Liverpool was to be charged as sharing in this guilt; — if many, far, far too many were involved in it, yet many also, I believe I may say a majority of the inhabitants, even when the impious traffic was carried to its highest extent, not only preserved themselves free from contamination, but regarding it with the utmost detestation united strenuously in the efforts to accomplish its suppression. High on this list stand the revered names of Roscoe and of Rathbone.

The first coup-d'oeil of the town speaks it at once a place of modern growth, nothing like a vestige of antiquity meets the eye. The records of the town mention an ancient castle, but of that not a trace remains; on the site of it stands the principal church of the town, St. George's. Whole streets, consisting of entirely new houses, simple and neat, built without any attempt at grandeur or display of architecture, speak a great equality of condition among the inhabitants; nor do we any where see, as is the case in so many towns, one particular quarter which seems set apart as the receptacle of poverty, filth, and misery. The greatest objection I had to make to the town was, that the houses are mostly of red-brick, a material for building of which I have already in the course of this work expressed my extreme dislike. Some of the public buildings are very handsome, for instance the Town-Hall and Exchange.


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The Docks it is needless to mention; every one knows that they are some of the finest to be seen not only in Great Britain, but in any part of the world.

With the increased wealth of the town great taste for literature has arisen; there are two excellent literary societies, the Athenaeum, and the Lyceum. At the former a news-room below is well supplied with London and country newspapers, reviews, magazines, and other periodical publications. Above is a handsome library containing above eight thousand volumes, some of them rare and valuable books. To this there are five hundred subscribers paying an annual subscription of two guineas and a half each, which furnishes an ample fund for the support of the institution. Books cannot be taken out of the library; but the rooms are open the whole day to the subscribers, and any subscriber may introduce a friend not a resident in the town. The Lyceum is a much handsomer building in the exterior than the Athenaeum; and it ought to be, since it was built at the expense of eleven thousand pounds, whereas the Athenaeum cost only four thousand. It consists of a coffee-room furnished with English and foreign newspapers, magazines, reviews, &c., and a library containing about ten thousand volumes, which are circulated among the subscribers. Besides these there are several other news-rooms.

An Academical Institution for the promotion of Literature, and the Arts and Sciences, with professorships attached to it, has long been projected, and a large subscription raised for the purpose, which gives promise of its being carried into effect. But the Botanic Garden is one of the objects which of all others in Liverpool best deserves to be honourably mentioned. It stands about a quarter of a mile out of the town upon an eminence called Edge-Hill, and is really one of the most complete things of the kind I have seen; not by any means so extensive as that belonging to the Dublin Society, but excelling it in the construction of the conservatories, and in the collection of exotics by which they are occupied. Some of these were growing in such luxuriance, that the roof of the building was no longer of sufficient height for them. Among them are many very fine plants from the Cape of Good-Hope; and I had familiarized myself so much with the productions of that country, from translating Dr. Lichtenstein's Travels in Southern Africa, that I seemed as if among old acquaintance. Nor must the gardener Mr. Shepherd be passed over without a word of


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tribute; he is one of the most intelligent men that I ever met with in such a situation.

No place can abound more with charitable institutions, as the following list will evince. There is a General Infirmary; — An Hospital for Seamen; — A Dispensary for supplying the Sick Poor with Advice and Medicines at their own Houses; — An Asylum for the Blind; — A Blue-coat Hospital, or Freeschool for the Education of Boys and Girls; — A House of Industry; — A House of Recovery, or Fever Hospital; — An Institution for the Recovery of Drowned Persons; — A Lying-in Charity for Women, conducted by the Ladies of the Town; — A Welsh Charity-school; — A Catholic Charity-school; — A School of Industry for the Education of Girls; — A Magdalen Asylum; — A Society for the Relief of Debtors confined in the Borough Gaol; — A Society for bettering the Condition of the Poor; — A Bible Society; — several Alms-houses. — Lastly, though not least in merits, a Society called The Stranger's Friend Society. — It is an institution, as the name imports, for relieving objects in distress, strangers in the town, who cannot apply for parish relief: there can hardly be greater objects of charity and benevolence than people in such a situation. Everton is a small village just without the town, standing on a terrace above the Mersey, and having a number of villas belonging to citizens. Hither I was carried to see, as one of the lions of the place, a new church, not then quite finished, built in the Gothic style, the pillars and all the ornamental work being of cast-iron painted stone-colour. They are admirably executed, and have so much the appearance of carved stone, that they might very well pass for such if not known to be otherwise: what a facility is here opened for introducing all the grand effect of the Gothic architecture with a tithe of the labour!

The Theatre, with the dresses, decorations, and every thing belonging to it, is the handsomest I have seen in any country town; a very large audience may here be accommodated. Through the politeness of Mr. Knight, the proprietor, I had the advantage of a seat in his box every evening while I staid at Liverpool. Miss O'Neill was then playing there.

I had every day sent my inquiries down to the harbour for the expected Duke of Richmond packet; but everyday, and all day long, received the same answer, that she was expected that day, till I began to be rather weary of expectation. At length she did arrive, but I had then been four days in waiting; and my servant told me he was informed at the port, that, whatever might be said at the packet-office, he might be very sure they would not sail again for three or four days. Moreover, the wind being totally adverse for getting out of the river, if I got on board, I might be kept beating about, perhaps, for a day or two before the vessel could clear the harbour. Now, though I was passing my time very pleasantly among several old friends, and several more new ones, it was not reasonable to encroach too far upon them; still less did I like the idea of beating about perhaps for two or three days without making any progress. I therefore, as if fate had determined that I was never to embark from the first port to which my steps were directed, now determined on leaving his Grace the Duke of Richmond to pursue his course without me, and to go off to Holyhead; secure that from thence there would be no delay in embarking.

I accordingly set off at two o'clock on Saturday the 29th of July, by a passage-boat, which carries passengers about eight miles up the river, to a place where a coach is in waiting to go on to Chester, whence another coach goes to Holyhead. Unfortunately a heavy rain came on just as I got into the boat, which never ceased a moment for about twelve hours. Shut up, therefore, in a crowded cabin, nothing could be seen of the banks of the river, which I am informed are worth seeing. The désagrément of this confinement was however somewhat relieved by a blind harper, who regularly takes his station in the boat to entertain the passengers with his music, and endeavours to make it charm some little gratuity from their pockets into his own. I found that it had the desired effect; there were few who did not give him at least two or three halfpence.

What I disliked in this journey was, that so much of it was performed in the dark. It was nearly dusk when we set off from Chester, and day-light had just come on again when we arrived at Conway-ferry; I could therefore see, though I could not examine, the magnificent ruins of Conway-castle; and a very bright morning having succeeded to the wet night, they were beautifully illumined by the glowing tints which the rosy goddess Aurora threw over them. There was something altogether fine and striking in the scene. Early as it was, no creature was visible but ourselves and the Charons who were to row us


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over, while the water was still and smooth as glass; and since at such an hour scarcely is any one ever inclined to conversation, no sound, except the dashing of the oars, interrupted the solemn stillness which reigned around. An old gentleman only, an officer as I afterwards found, remarked when we arrived on the other side of the water, that since the melancholy catastrophe which had happened there two or three years before, of the ferry boat being overset and so many passengers lost, he could never feel easy till he found himself safe on shore again. Indeed, still as the water now was, it is not difficult to conceive that it may be rendered very dangerous by a strong wind blowing up the river between the rocks that form its entrance. Penman-maur, as is often the case with objects of which one hears too much, disappointed me. It is grand; but I had formed to myself an idea of vast crags hanging over the road, while the sea was dashing at a tremendous depth below. But instead of hanging over the road, I found the rocks sloping away from it, and its height above the sea scarcely more than half what I expected.

It was about twelve o'clock when we arrived at Holyhead; and the mail coming in half an hour after, preparations for embarking were to be made; at two we sailed. The wind, which had been invariably to the west for some time, this morning took a sudden turn round to the east, presenting a very favourable prospect for our voyage. The day was clear and beautiful, the wind just sufficient to carry us over pleasantly, without being boisterous, and by eleven at night we anchored in Dublin Bay, there to wait till morning, when the tide would serve for crossing the bar into the harbour. As evening was coming on, most of the passengers went down into the cabin; I alone remained upon deck; and here I enjoyed one of the most glorious spectacles imaginable. The Mourne mountains were then in sight. Above them rose a mass of dark cloud, the sun had just set behind them, and illuminated with the brightest golden tints the part of the heavens where it descended, throwing out the dark heads of the mountains with the finest contrast; and this glowing landscape was surmounted by the mass of dark cloud, forming as it were an arch through which it was seen; nothing could be imagined more beautiful; — even the bright sun of Provence could not have produced a happier effect.

As I stood admiring this, the Captain, whom I found a very pleasant,


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sensible man, entered into conversation with me, observing that I was a very good sailor, that I did not appear at all disposed to be sick. I replied that I never found myself so in fine weather when I could be upon deck, but that I had suffered very much in rough weather. "However," I said, "I never think about it, but always try to amuse myself, and I believe there is something in that." — "I believe," he replied, "you are perfectly in the right; I observed you reading, or walking and looking about, not appearing to think of sickness, and I said within myself, That lady will not be ill. I have," he continued, "been now nine years in this service, constantly going backwards and forwards between Dublin and Holyhead, and you may imagine that in that time I have had the opportunity of seeing and making my observations upon a great variety of passengers. Upon an average, I should think not more than one out of five escape entirely without sickness, but I believe of the four that are sick not more than one need be so. I think three-fourths at least of those that are, work themselves up to it from the belief that it must be so. The ladies in particular," he said, "if I may say it without offence, seem to have an idea that it would be a want of delicacy if they were not, and even become sick with apprehension lest such a want of delicacy should be evinced." I listened with attention; — my opportunities of observation had been as nothing in comparison with the Captain's, yet had the same idea more than once struck me. In very many instances the effect is beyond all doubt wholly unavoidable; as for instance, I met with a common sailor once, who said he had been forty years in the service, but whenever he had been on shore for any length of time, on going to sea again he was always ill for the first two or three days. In this man there could be nothing like affectation. In many instances, however, I have thought the sickness brought on in the way suggested by the Captain. One way of promoting it is, the invariable habit people have of making it the great theme of conversation the moment they go on board a vessel. But enough on this subject.

The night was passed at anchor in the bay; about five in the morning the anchor was weighed, and about six we disembarked at the Pigeon-house.


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