Corpus of Electronic Texts Edition
The Miseries and Beauties of Ireland (Author: Jonathan Binns)
Volume 1
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chapter 1
Kingston — Dublin — Botanic Gardens at Glasnevin — House of Industry — Rotunda Gardens — Rent of Shops in Dublin — Departure for the Country — Hay-making, and character of Irish labourers — The Scalp — Enniskerry — Powerscourt — Tinehinch — The Dargle — Bray — Cruelty to animals — Hill of Howth — Castle of Howth — Grace O'Malley — Hospitality of the Irish.
On the 3d of July, 1835, I embarked on board the Post Office packet, from Liverpool, at five in the afternoon. The weather was fine and mild; and at midnight, the moon shone so bright that many parts of the Welsh coast were clearly distinguishable. As the morning dawned, the floating sea-weed and polypi indicated our approach to land; but, unfortunately, the atmosphere was
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not sufficiently clear to permit us to enjoy in perfection the first sight of the magnificent Bay of Dublin, justly celebrated as one of the finest in the world. The noble piers of Kingston, constructed of granite abounding in mica, present a splendid appearance when glittering in the sun, and are well calculated to produce upon the mind of a stranger, at the very threshold of the country as it were, a favourable impression of the energy, spirit, and perseverance of the Irish people. The hills of Killiney, and the mountains of Wicklow, visible from the sea, are also of granite, which is used for buildings in the neighbourhood, and of which a large quantity is exported to Liverpool.
Having taken up my abode at Gresham's hotel, Sackville-street, I proceeded to the office of the Commissioners of the Irish Poor Inquiry, and received, from the proper authorities, particular directions in reference to my duties as one of the Assistant Agricultural Commissioners.
So much has been said of Dublin within the last thirty years — so many travellers have described
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it in so many different ways, and with such a variety of objects — that I run but little risk of incurring censure by passing it over with a very hasty and superficial notice. Dublin is indeed a fine city; but it is a city of lamentable contrasts. If the stranger be forcibly struck by the number and magnificence of the public buildings, and the general beauty of some of the streets, he is sure to be no less forcibly moved by the very different character of those parts which are termed "the Liberties." Here, narrow streets, houses without windows or doors, and several families crowded together beneath the same roof, present a picture of ruin, disease, poverty, filth, and wretchedness, of which they who have not witnessed it are unable to form a competent idea. Dublin, I have said, is a city of lamentable contrasts: so is London; but the contrasts of Dublin are brought more immediately together than those of the English metropolis. When Dublin presents a scene of the most enlivening gaiety, numbers of miserable beings may be seen lying half naked, and apparently half dead from cold
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and hunger, on the parapets and the steps of the houses, their nightly resting places; and the stranger, as he enters the hospitable abode which invites him to partake of the enjoyments and luxuries of life, is almost invariably saluted with the feeble cries and imploring accents of the wretched and the destitute.
The Botanic Gardens, at Glasnevin, about a mile from Dublin, have lately been much improved under the superintendence of Mr. Nevin, who has been trying a series of valuable experiments on the potato and various sorts of grasses, and has also introduced many tasteful decorations. They are well worth visiting. The ground they occupy, consisting of twenty-seven acres and twenty perches, was purchased by the Royal Dublin Society; the gardens, established in 1800, by the last act of the Irish Parliament, have been supported by the general funds of the Society, arising in part from private subscriptions, but principally from an annual parliamentary grant. The Society, instituted in 1731, was supported for eighteen years by private subscription.
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Glasnevin has other attractions besides its Botanic Gardens. It was here that Addison, Parnell, Steele, Tickell, Swift, and the celebrated Stella, at different periods resided. The "Drapiers' Letters" were printed in the demesne of Delville, and the author of "Cato," composed several of his choicest pieces here. The fine yew trees in Addison's walk are said to have been planted by the delightful essayist himself.
Dr. Litton, who had accompanied me round the gardens, afterwards conducted me to the House of Industry and the four general hospitals attached. The House of Industry is chiefly supported by parliamentary grants. Since its commencement, 421,148 paupers have been admitted. It was formerly opened for the indiscriminate admission of paupers, whether healthy or infirm, and from all parts of Ireland, but is now restricted to certain diseased and destitute objects from the county and city of Dublin: firstly, aged and infirm paupers; secondly, idiots and incurable lunatics. Such of this class as are inclined to work are encouraged to do so by small premiums;
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the males being employed in cultivating the garden, and making oakum, &c.; the females in spinning, washing, and knitting. The system of engaging them in this manner has been found of great utility; and in consequence of the advantage derived from it, several patients have been restored to their friends. The four general hospitals attached to the House of Industry are for fever, and chronic, and surgical patients. The Dispensary affords advice, medicine, flannel, &c, to the sick poor of the north-west district of the city of Dublin, who are not objects of hospital accommodation, and a physician and surgeon attend daily. Rutland Square, (or the Rotunda Gardens), a much frequented resort of pleasure, was opened by Dr. Mosse, the founder of the Lying-in Hospital, for the benefit of that establishment. The gardens, during summer, are made the scene of evening promenade. The interior, which is beautifully undulated and tastefully arranged, is, upon these occasions, illuminated; military bands are in attendance; and the performances of professional singers diversify the
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attractions of the place. Though the price of admission is only sixpence, the receipts have been known to amount to as much as £20 a night. The houses around this square are superior buildings, and include the residence of Lord Charlemont, whose father obtained and deserved the distinguished epithets of "great and good."
The rent of shops with houses attached in the best streets of Dublin, varies from one to two hundred pounds a year; some being from three hundred to a thousand pounds fine besides. The decrease of trade in Dublin may be principally attributed to the general change which took place upon the establishment of a steam communication between the Irish capital and this country. Before that event, nearly the whole of Ireland was supplied with English and foreign manufactures through the Dublin importers, who of course derived considerable advantages from the business. Now, however, the generality of the country shopkeepers go to England at a trifling expense, and purchase for themselves; but in a greater ratio, it may be observed, than the trade of Dublin
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has decreased from this cause, the country must have benefited.
I left Dublin for the interior on the 6th. The morning was fine, but the prognostications of an agreeable tour were anything but favourable. For a great part of the way, even where the road was so nearly level that it was a point of dispute whether we were ascending or not, Pat's horse declined, or rather was unable to go beyond a walk; for we were placed in that unpleasant dilemma so often experienced by travellers in Ireland, of being dragged by an animal almost entirely exhausted. Objecting to the merciless use of the whip, which in cases of necessity is applied to some lacerated part of the jaded beast, in the barbarous hope of quickening his speed — and yet seeing no prospect of an amended pace — I stepped off the carriage, and tried to soothe my impatience by walking a considerable distance in advance. As we proceeded we had an opportunity of observing a very lazy system of hay-making in use among the Irish. In one field we saw a gang or company of fifteen
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or sixteen men working, under charge of two overlookers, and pretending to throw about the swaths of mown grass with clumsy pitchforks. On our passing, they suspended their operations, nor did they resume them whilst we remained in sight. Half the number of women in England would have done the same work, and have done it in a much more efficient manner, than the whole of this company. It is the custom in Ireland for the labourers to be accompanied by an overlooker, with whom, by the way, they spend a great deal of time in idle gossip. From this fact the reader will probably conclude, as I did on first visiting the country, and particularly on this day's excursion, that the Irish are an indolent people; but after visiting nearly every part of the island, and having ascertained what was the real situation of the labourers, I found their want of energy to proceed from the bad system pursued by their employers — from the supply of labourers exceeding the demand — and from the work being always done by the day. All, without respect to the amount of labour actually performed, are
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paid alike; accordingly, the stimulus afforded by the expectation of being rewarded proportionably to industry and skill, is withheld. The spiritless inactivity of the Irish labourer may also be attributed to the very small wages he receives, as well as to the inevitable consequence of small wages, the miserable food on which he subsists: in many instances it is barely sufficient to support his wretched life.
Pat informed us that "the Scalp," about twelve miles from Dublin, was a remarkably "illecant place." We knew it possessed celebrity, and to an inhabitant of Lincolnshire or Cambridgeshire it might afford considerable interest; but one in the habit of traversing the wildest and most romantic glens and mountains of Cumberland, Westmoreland, and Lancashire, could find in it little to admire, being merely a passage of the road through an opening in the Wicklow Hills, with some broken rocks and loose stones on each side. On reaching this spot, I began to think that if these were the beauties of Ireland, they were not worth the seeking. We soon, however, arrived at Enniskerry,
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a pretty village on the Dargle river, where we left the car and proceeded on foot to Powerscourt. By the advice of a land-agent of the Powerscourt estate, who was accidentally passing by, we selected for our guide a ragged fellow with a black eye, who led us up the hill for three or four miles, to give us a view of Powerscourt. After crossing a pebbly stream, we entered the undulating and woody grounds of the Powerscourt Deer Park. We rambled over their grassy surface in search of the waterfall, till, like many other tourists in pursuit of nature's beauties, we were ready to despair, the distance seeming to lengthen as we proceeded; when, unexpectedly, the splendid cascade, and the romantic little vale into which it falls, suddenly met our view. The fall of the river Glenisloreane is over a precipice about three hundred feet high, with a beautiful combination of rock and wood on the sides of the stupendous mass over which the water flows. Its fall is partially interrupted by ledges of different inclinations, some of which vary considerably from the perpendicular. The grassy
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lawn below exhibits the beauty of unassisted nature, its irregular surface being varied with copsewood and enriched with wild fruit and flowers. Whilst enjoying a perfect feast of whortle berries, which, in some degree, compensated for the want of a more substantial repast, we saw other parties regaling themselves with good cheer from their baskets; some seated on rustic benches and others on the ground — their gay summer dresses enlivening the sequestered and beautiful glen, and the rich notes of the bugle mingling with the scarcely less rich melody of the waterfall. A rustic bridge, from which the cascade is seen to great advantage, crosses the torrent a little below the fall. From the deer park we turned to the left, our way lying among meadows and copsewood, along the side of the Dargle river, and on again entering the Powerscourt demesne we passed through fine woods with a stream pursuing a serpentine course, occasionally close to the road. In one of the glades of the wood we suddenly entered a field of fine old cherry trees, their branches bending with ripe
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fruit. Having every inducement, from the loneliness of the situation, the heat of the day, and our own increasing hunger and thirst, to share with the birds the enjoyment thus apparently within our reach, we were advancing with this intention, when we discovered, to our surprise, men seated with scales ready to sell the fruit — and we gladly availed ourselves of their services. At the gate leading to Tinehinch our guide abruptly left us, alleging that guides were not allowed to go with visitors through the grounds. On looking round, we observed a number of persons on the road, at a distance, waiting for a guide to the waterfall; having received his remuneration from us, he no doubt saw a prospect of additional profit, and joined another party accordingly. By missing our way to the Dargle, we got a near view of Tinehinch, and indeed approached close to the mansion. Tinehinch is delightfully situated, embosomed in wood, with the Glenisloreane flowing close by. This was the seat of the late Henry Grattan, whose memory is deservedly dear, not to his native country alone, but
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to the whole civilized world, as the advocate of political justice — the champion of that liberty of conscience and of those equal rights, civil and religious, which had been so long withheld.
On reaching the banks of the Dargle, we found a happy circle reposing on a knoll high above the river, which commanded views of a succession of wooded brows and slopes, with the winding stream at intervals opening to the view. We scrambled down the steep banks of the wood till obstructed by the ruggedness and abruptness of the impending cliffs which compelled us to retrace our steps. Soon afterwards we reached a huge granite rock which rises precipitously from a frightful depth below: this rock commands a rich view of the valley. The receding banks of the woody slopes are lost in aerial distance. After a long ramble we found the chief beauties of the Dargle, where the river is confined within a chasm of stupendous rocks, overhung with trees. Below this chasm the stream is deep and dark, reposing in a rocky basin,
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and reflecting the large granite crags and luxuriant foliage. A ledge of rock on one side of the basin, screened by the branches of trees, forms a cool and shady retreat. Paths and alcoves have been made in these romantic glens by the late proprietor, Lord Powerscourt, and the public have free access except on the Sabbath.
On arriving at the lower Dargle gate our driver was not to be found, and after a walk as far as Bray, in the vain hope of meeting with him, we mounted a car that was on the point of leaving. In addition to those seated before us, we made seven in number, and had to go fourteen miles on heavy roads with only one horse. The willing creature dragged us along for a considerable distance, at the rate of nine miles an hour, but this did not exempt him from the merciless and undeserved torture of the whip, which continued to be applied until the poor beast could trot no longer. This cruel treatment of animals which contribute so greatly to our comforts, is, I am sorry to say, far from uncommon, nor is it discouraged as it ought to be, by those who have
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the power, if they chose to exert it, of speedily suppressing the evil. The travellers who do not prevent this abuse are far more to blame than the drivers themselves, who are generally exceedingly ignorant and may plead the brutalizing influence of privation and misery in extenuation of their unfeeling practices. This class of men, as well as the horses committed to their care, suffer incomparably greater hardships in Ireland than they do in England.
The next morning a gentleman accompanied us to the Hill of Howth, which is in a northerly direction from Dublin. Our road lay along the shore of the Bay, which presented no inviting appearances to the botanist; but my friend, a man of science, informed me that it afforded about fifty varieties of shells.
The Hill of Howth is on a peninsula, and is six hundred feet above the level of the sea. The view of the sea from the hill was particularly fine; the extensive and noble Bay of Dublin lay before us; and Ireland's Eye, and other islands, were beautiful objects on the wide expanse of the
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Irish Sea, where we could just trace the various vessels hanging like shadows in the horizon. After seeing the lighthouse, we visited the harbours and piers, which are of granite and very substantial. The piers inclose fifty-two acres. These works, the cost of which was upwards of £300,000, are now of but little use, the sand having collected at the mouth of the river. They were intended for a packet station, but the packets now go to Kingston. The first stone was laid so late as 1807. When George the Fourth visited Ireland in 1821, he landed at Howth, and we were shown the stone which bears the footmark of the royal stranger engraved upon it.
The abbey is a venerable and interesting ruin. The Castle of Howth, situated in a flat and unattractive part of the peninsula, belongs to and is inhabited by Lord Howth. Parts of it display great antiquity; several implements of war and utensils of early times are exhibited in the spacious and baronial entrance hall. Lord Howth showed us every civility, and pointed out, among
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other things, the two-handed sword with which Sir Tristram, his ancestor, slew the Danes when he conquered them and took possession of the island: it was considered the greatest curiosity of the place. The day being the anniversary of Lord Howth's birth, crowds were assembled to enjoy races, wrestling, and various other amusements; among the rest, a tall smooth pole, well greased or soaped, was erected in the grounds, on the top of which was placed a hat, as a reward for the enterprising man who should reach it. Several battles at intervals added to the scene; and good cheer from the castle crowned the festivities. A story is current respecting a visit to the castle from Grace O'Malley, who, incensed at the gates being shut during the time of dinner, stole the infant son of the lord from a neighbouring cottage where he was at nurse, and only restored him on the condition that they should always be open at dinner time — a stipulation which is said to be faithfully observed to the present day. Many of the Irish consider it a religious duty to keep the door open when at meals, that the passing
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stranger may enter and partake. I am happy to add my testimony to that of other travellers in favour of the hospitality and kindness of the Irish in all parts of the country through which I have had an opportunity of travelling: but it is the most remarkable among the poor. In the hundreds of miserable cabins which I entered, a seat, if there was one, was always at my service, and if the inmates did not invite me to share the best they possessed, it was from diffidence alone, for they always seemed gratified if I took a potato from the bowl uninvited. Indeed, I invariably experienced the utmost civility, accompanied with a courtesy of manner which would have done honour to a higher rank of life. The proverbial shrewdness of reply is truly astonishing; and I may here mention, that I do not remember a single instance in which there occurred the slightest reservation in answering my questions, whatever the nature of them might be. On their part the greatest inquisitiveness prevailed. If we met a man in the fields or at his house, and entered into conversation by asking him the way,
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he would immediately inquire the nature of our business; how far we had come; where from; where we were going; where we lived; and whether we were going to do any thing for Ireland —
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