The country which extends westward from Ennis and Edenvale is the dark side of the county of Clare—the wildest, poorest, and most unfruitful part of it. Two reasons induced me to travel through this wretched country. First, I had heard that the celebrated Father Mathew was expected at Kilrush, which is the most easterly town on the Shannon; and, secondly, in the neighbourhood of this town is one of the most beautiful of the ‘Round Towers’ of Ireland, and the ruins of the ‘Seven Churches,’ which I was anxious to see. The distance from Edenvale to Kilrush is about sixteen English miles; yet along this whole district,
The fields adjoining the cabins are in the most disorderly state, and evidently tilled in the most negligent manner; they are usually without any fences, so that the desolate turf-bog mixes with them, or they are only surrounded by walls, the stones of which have all tumbled down one over another. I remember that I once pitied the poor Lettes, in Livonia, because they possess dwellings formed merely of round tree-stumps, with the interstices stuffed with moss. I pitied them especially on account of their low doors, and their small windows, and glad would I have been to see their chimneys better constructed. How many melancholy reflections arose in my mind when I beheld their scanty, rude, and wretched household! Now, may Heaven forgive me for my ignorance! I might have spared myself all this, had I known, as I now do, that it has pleased God to lay far greater privations on another people. Since I have seen Ireland, I find that even the poorest of the Lettes, Esthonians, and Finlanders dwell and live very respectably; and that, in ninety cases out of a hundred, Paddy would think himself as well off as a king, if he were dressed, lodged, and fed like these people. To him who has seen Ireland, no mode of life, in any other part of Europe, however wretched, will seem
A log hut carefully stuffed with moss—what comfort! Paddy's house is usually built only of clay; and how? Why, one shovelful of earth heaped upon another, with some field stones mixed up in it, till the walls are sufficiently high. A house regularly roofed with straw or bark—how delightful! But Paddy covers his cabin only with sods taken from his bogs. Small windows in the walls, neatly fitted with glass panes, or even half-transparent bladder, or talc, as here and there in Wallachia, and in some parts of Russia—bladders, good heavens, what a luxury! Paddy has houses enough in which there is not even the semblance of a window, and only one single square hole in the front, which serves at once for window, chimney, house-door, and stable-door, since light, smoke, men, pigs, all pass in and out through this hole.
An intelligent French writer, De Beaumont, who has been in Ireland, and also among the North American Indians, assures us that the wants of these wild barbarians are in general better supplied than those of the poor Irish; and truly one might almost believe, that greater physical privations are endured by the Irish, than by the people of any other country, not only in Europe, but throughout the whole world. Indeed, look in whatever direction we may for a comparison, the Irishman stands alone, and his misery is without an equal. This can never be placed in too strong a light: for if it is true, that the misery of the Irishman is unique on this globe, every friend of humanity must feel himself called upon to devote his thoughts and his exertions to provide a remedy for the evil.
The Russian, it is true, is often the bondsman of a harder master than the Irishman; but his food and lodging are as good as he would wish, and there is no trace of Irish beggary about him. He feels happy in his bondage too, and is not, like the Irishman in his yearnings for freedom, continually biting his chains, or vainly attempting to break them. The Hungarians, also, do not belong to the nations which are most delicately lodged; but what good white bread does not the very lowest of them eat, and what wine does he not drink? Would the Hungarian for a moment believe that there are people enough in a Christian land who can afford to eat nothing but potatoes, day after day? The Servians and the Bosnians are reckoned among the poorest and most pitiable people of Europe, and the appearance of their villages is certainly not very inviting. But how well dressed these people are! If Paddy could only peep into a Servian dwelling, and see a Servian woman sitting there in her gala dress, and the men
The African negroes are naked, but they have a hot sun. The Irish are not only without clothes, but they have also a wet and cool climate, if not a cold one. The American Indians live sometimes wretchedly enough, but they know not a better state of existence; and then, as they are hunters, they obtain many a good joint of roast meat, and make themselves many a feast day in the year. Christmas-day is the Irishman's only festival throughout the whole year, for on every other day he eats nothing but potatoes. This is not living like a human being, to whom nature has given an appetite and a stomach for various kinds of food; but rather resembles those inferior animals which are appointed to be fed exclusively on one root, or one species of berry or plant.
As there are nations who go naked, but who have also a hot sun to keep them warm, so there are others who are slaves, but to whom this slavery has been necessary for their existence; others who are poor, but who wish for nothing else, since they know nothing better; and others, again, whom a famine sometimes
The estates indeed are by no means so extensive as in England. The largest are those of the Duke of Leinster and some other wealthy individuals, whose yearly income is from £50,000 to £70,000; the latter is the highest amount in Ireland; and we may assume the former as more common. Now if we take the wages of an Irish labourer to be, as at present, sixpence a day, and suppose that his wife earns in addition fourpence daily, and that upon this pittance they and their family can exist, we have, for the year of three hundred working-days, a total product of three thousand pence, or £12, as the income upon which a labourer's family must support life. A single individual, worth £50,000 a year, therefore consumes as much as four thousand poor families, who have constant work and feed themselves in the Irish manner. But if we calculate the days, many-numbered, of anxiety and care, on which no work is to be had—if we take these into account, the income of the poor Irishman, whose labour is his only means of support, must be still considerably lessened; and the proportion of four thousand to one, which poverty bears to wealth, will be much increased.
It is most discouraging to travel through one of these melancholy rocky, boggy districts, abounding only in ruins; whilst, whether you look to the past or the future, a more beautiful prospect or a more cheerful retrospect nowhere opens on the view. There is no trace that a better system of cultivation, a happier race, or a higher social condition of the population, has ever existed here. Every thing wears the aspect of a misery old as the world itself; and it causes an oppressive feeling to find that here nothing has ever been produced but rags from rags, rocks upon rocks, ruins upon ruins, morass upon morass, and beggars from beggars. One cannot even look into the future with pleasure. There was more
In the temperance movement, in Catholic emancipation, and in many other things, may be perceived some rays of light and some progress, which have already, here and there, produced a good effect on the poor man in his cabin; but so inconsiderable a portion of these beams has as yet penetrated through the murky atmosphere of the county of Clare, and into the melancholy hovels of its inhabitants, that I almost imagined this dawn did not yet exist for Ireland.
The walls of the little inns at which we stopped to change horses were generally placarded with numerous government proclamations, offering rewards for the discovery of criminals. Fifty pounds were offered for the discovery of the persons who attacked and murdered Farmer So-and-so, on the 15th of May; thirty pounds for information concerning the persons who burned a mill
In passing a field I saw what I imagined to be a figure, such as in Germany is dressed up and placed in the gardens, or beanfields, &c., to scare away the birds. The rags and shreds were fluttering in the wind; the tattered hat was set on the spot where the head should be; I fancied I saw the sticks which were to represent the legs, and the entire object was standing stiff in the field. All at once, however, it began to move, and came towards us begging for alms. I now perceived that a head was really there, and that the sticks were real legs; and I immediately thought of the celebrated apparition, which was once exhibited in England under the name of the Living Skeleton, and which was literally composed of nothing but skin, sinews, and bones, the muscles and all trace of fat having entirely vanished. This Living Skeleton also came from Ireland; and perhaps the eternal hunger and distress of this people more frequently produce such morbid phenomena.
We carried with us the letter-bags for those villages and seats which lay adjacent to our line of road. At every stage a similar pitiable scarecrow presented himself with a letter-bag, which he strove at times to protect from the wet, by so arranging the rags which danced about him, that a portion of them covered the bag. What a contrast to the fellows who, in Saxony and Prussia, are entrusted with the not unimportant business of forwarding the letters of the public from village to village!
During the entire journey of sixteen miles our carriage was the only one I saw, except an innumerable multitude of two-wheeled cars, drawn by donkeys, which slowly crept along the road, taking home the winter's supply of fuel, accompanied by Paddies in a continually changing rag-metamorphosis. Although, probably, not one in a hundred of those who look like beggars actually beg, yet abundance of those who make a trade of mendicancy are every where to be seen. In these wild and poor western regions, how ever, they are perhaps somewhat less numerous than elsewhere,
A very frequent spectacle on the road is a little moveable box upon wheels, in which dwells some miserably poor involuntary Diogenes, with a glowing, smoking piece of turf usually lying near him. The hucksters and market women have always a similar bit of burning turf beside them on the pavement, at which they occasionally warm their fingers and light their pipes, and sometimes share it with others in a neighbourly manner.
A couple of very small lakes formed the only feature of variety in our journey. These were covered with a species of wild duck, called ‘Puffins’ by the Irish. It was formerly very difficult to shoot these ducks, on account of their rapid disappearance beneath the water; but the introduction of percussion guns has rendered the feat more easy of accomplishment, and the birds are consequently now becoming scarcer.11
To a mere pleasure-hunting traveller in this desert, I can readily imagine that a couple of hours would appear like a hundred years, or exactly the reverse of Paddy's stories of the fairy country, in which a hundred years seem but two hours. The Irish, in common with all depressed nations, have their dreams of a fairy-land of wonderful beauty, and the man who drove me the last stage to Kilrush was full of them. Whilst we were rolling down the hills in the twilight, and drawing nigh the little town, he told me of a king who was carried by a fairy lady into that charming land, where he led a splendid and delightful life, till one day he wished himself back on the earth, among men. The fairies then gave him a magic horse, at the same time warning him, as he valued his eternal youth, not to touch the ground with his foot, although he might gallop about the earth on the horse as long as he pleased. He had already spent two hundred years among the fairies, by whose enchantment his youth and strength had been preserved; but on touching the earth this spell would be instantly broken. The king rode forth on the earth, and was greatly rejoiced at again saluting this dear old mother of all mankind. Approaching his own palace, where he had once been used to command, and riding up the court-yard, he saw there another king, ordering arrangements which were not pleasing to him; whereupon he forgot himself for an instant, and, with a
I am convinced that a diligent collector could find matter enough in Ireland for more than a thousand-and-one nights, and that an Irish Scheherazade could by her tales preserve her life as long as the Arabian did with hers. It is surprising that so little is known throughout Europe of the treasures of Irish popular poetry. Don Quixote and Gil Blas have acquired universal celebrity as tales of Spanish adventurers and enthusiasts; and it is inconceivable why similar tales of Irish adventurers and enthusiasts have not been produced, since there are so many of them actually to be found in Ireland; and as Paddy, as an English colonist or emigrant, often wanders over the whole world, the subject would seem to be inexhaustible.
As O'Connell has always his tail of followers about him in Ireland, so likewise is the traveller in that country attended by a similar tail, wherever he goes. Should he visit any thing remarkable, twelve Ciceroni accompany his steps instead of one. Does he roll along the high road in a carriage, he is followed by a tail of children and beggars. And when he enters a village, this tail is farther increased by the innkeepers and their servants. In short, in Ireland all stars are magnified into comets. As I entered Kilrush, at least twenty adults and twice as many children ran after our car—some to beg, others to recommend particular inns, and others from curiosity, but still more for the mere sport of the thing. Some even obtrusively seated themselves on the car; and with this little triumphal procession I entered Kilrush.
Kilrush is a little seaport town, and, like all Irish seaports, has fewer ruins, and a more fresh and agreeable aspect, than the towns of the interior. It enjoys some trade on the Shannon. Having quartered myself with an old sailor who had fought under Lord Nelson, and who keeps the only tolerable inn here, I hastened to the place prepared for the reception of Father Mathew.
In every town in Ireland, the temperance societies have
The cause of temperance has no where more adherents than in Ireland; nay, it has actually originated here, and here also it has its strong-hold. Almost every Irishman wears the temperance medal, and no less than five millions (this number I have from his own mouth,) are said to have taken the pledge from Father Mathew. The Apostle of Temperance has given to this society its peculiar sanctity and dignity, and hence the Irish themselves acknowledge no other. ‘Our temperance society is the only genuine one,’ said my guide: ‘elsewhere, in America for instance, there were temperance societies previous to ours, but they are not of the right sort. They hav'n't generally adopted total abstinence, and they break the pledge very often. With us it is quite the contrary. When Father Mathew has once laid his hands on a man's head, and blessed him, and hung the medal around his neck, he is dedicated to temperance for his entire life: from that moment he hates all intoxicating liquors, and can no longer endure those who are given to drinking. So great is the effect of the blessing of our Apostle of Temperance.’
The Roman Catholic priesthood of Ireland, though, at first, they beheld with jealousy the movement originated by the exertions of a simple monk, have allowed themselves to be borne along by the stream; nay, have even partially placed themselves at its head; and the entire matter has thus assumed a catholic-religious character. Every mighty movement in a nation, and every widely-branching
Garlands and wreaths of flowers encircled the banners and the hall. A large table, in the form of a horseshoe, stood in the middle of the room; and long boards, laid on blocks of wood and barrels, served as seats. At the top of the horseshoe two arm-chairs were placed—one for Father Mathew, and the other for the principal Catholic priest of the town, who was to preside at the meeting. Behind these arm-chairs, on the wall, was suspended a gigantic cornucopia, from which a number of shamrocks were represented as falling,—another allusion to Irish nationality. On side tables stood vast numbers of teacups, and large piles of bread and butter; for at all the festive meetings of the temperance men, tea is the only drink, and bread and butter their only food. In London, the temperance tea-houses are very numerous; and in many of the towns and villages of England and Ireland, where a beer-jug or a whisky bottle was once displayed, a teapot and a few cups and saucers are now to be seen in the window.
My friend having still many arrangements to complete, I returned to the street. The night was pitchy dark, and two dim tallow candles, fixed upon the door-posts, threw a weak flickering gleam upon the crowd that was assembled outside the hall. The people were shouting one to another; and I heard some say that Father Mathew had already arrived; that a deputation of the principal temperance men had gone to meet him with music, and conducted him in; that he had alighted at the priest's, to refresh himself a little after his journey, and would shortly make his appearance. The contemplation of this scene produced something like a religious effect on my mind, and I thought of those scenes in the history of the Apostles, in which they describe their journeys, and the little towns they visited.
Father Mathew founded the Irish Temperance Society on the 10th of April, 1838, since which time he has been constantly
Suddenly arose the cry, ‘He comes! he comes!’ and I heard at the other end of the street a burst of that most horrible—(this term I ought not to use, since the instruments were blown in so estimable a cause)—music, with which the temperance men open all their public meetings and processions. All the temperance associations have taken music into their especial service, and at their own expense have formed bands, which accompany their processions and enliven their soirées. At times they go in procession through the towns and their environs, and on these occasions, which generally occupy the whole day, all the adherents of the cause are invited. These excursions, for which in London steam-boats are frequently hired, are undertaken partly to promote suitable and beneficial temperance pleasures, and partly to show themselves to the public, for all which purposes the temperance bands may be requisite. In the Irish towns, however, it is also usual for these bands to promenade the streets on Sunday evenings. This is probably done to denote their existence, as well as to advance the cause, and stimulate the zeal of their adherents. But I must confess that my ear was not so attuned as to find any soothing harmony in their music; and were all their trumpets, clarionets, cornets-à-piston, and drums, blown and beat at random, I do not believe the discord could be much greater. It is a pity that better taste is not united with such a cause.
At the cry of ‘He comes! he comes!’ I betook myself to my place, and seated myself at the end of a bench near my teacup, which had been kindly placed exactly opposite Father Mathew. All the other friends of temperance, young men, old men, women, and girls, also took their places. Young persons composed the majority of our assemblage.
He came—the great man, the Apostle of Temperance, who, after O'Connell, may be deemed the most prominent character in Ireland, since the great phenomenon of five millions of people joining hands in a noble cause is to be looked upon as entirely his work. As O'Connell rules the entire repeal association, and stands at the head of all repealers like a dictator, so the temperance cause almost entirely depends upon Father Mathew, who guides the whole vast association, and exercises a controlling influence
In the year 1838, some Quakers, struck by the misery produced among the lower classes by drunkenness, resolved to found a temperance society in Cork; but their efforts proving unsuccessful, they begged Father Mathew to devote his talents and his powers
It may be doubted whether history furnishes an example of so great a moral revolution, accomplished in so short a time, and whether any man ever so quickly obtained so great and bright a name as Father Mathew. In point of fact, there is something altogether unparalleled in the Irish Temperance Society. We have, indeed, often beheld old, decayed political fabrics tumbled down in a short time; we have even sometimes seen religious systems and principles of belief quickly vanish; but not till they had been previously undermined and warred against for centuries. Such sudden revolutions and rapid reformations were in these cases merely the visible and manifested effects of causes which had been long at work, although their operation was silent and unseen. But where is to be found a similar example of a people, wholly without preparation, without previous instruction, rising unanimously at the call of a single individual, in the very plenitude of their vices, (for the Irish were the greatest and most habitual drunkards in the world,)12 contending against itself, against its own passions, (not against the privileged classes, or its powerful priesthood,) tearing up sweet old habits by the roots, and confining itself to strict and rigorous abstinence! Here is an entire people doing what, in the middle ages, but a few pious monks were able to accomplish! How hard it is to fulfil that saying of Christ, that we should put off the old man and put on the new! Yet here we see the wonderful phenomenon of five millions of men fulfilling this command in one particular. They have put off an old man, worn out with diseases which have hitherto resisted the medicine of every physician, and have suddenly put on a new, vigorous, abstinent, and sober man.
In all reforms and revolutions there have ever been thousands of men who derived some accession of wealth or territory by the change. In Luther's reformation many princes took a willing
All classes seemed thus to be interested in opposing the progress of temperance, and the cause had to struggle against the strong
As to the means by which the temperance movement was created and kept in motion, they were nearly similar to those by which all theories, principles, and parties are promulgated and extended in Great Britain. I have already mentioned that the teetotallers, like the Chartists and other political societies, have their public demonstrations, their great processions, their numerous meetings, and festive parties. On these occasions speeches are listened to, frequently interspersed with noise, tumult, and tasteless music; and it has often occurred to me, that the intemperate zeal with which the British people advocate the principles which they have once adopted, (not excepting even temperance
Nor are the motives by which individuals are induced to enter the temperance societies all alike pure and disinterested. I have already mentioned that the Irish beggars sometimes adorn themselves with the medal, because they know that it gives them a better chance of receiving alms. Many of the upper classes are said to have taken the pledge merely to set an example to their inferiors, and in the hope that sober tenants will be better able to pay their rents than drunkards. Many have also joined the societies as an excuse for their niggardliness and avarice; for many niggards think themselves extremely fortunate in having found in temperance an excellent and praiseworthy pretext to conceal their avarice and spare their guineas. These now give their families and guests water instead of wine, and tea instead of punch; and since temperance has become the order of the day in Ireland, nobody dares to grumble at the substitution. Others have been led, as I before
All these things are, I repeat, extremely natural and not to be avoided; for not only are they based in the nature of man, and would therefore show themselves any where, but they are also a portion of the Irish character, and unavoidable in Ireland; whilst in other countries they either display themselves in a different manner, or not at all. In Germany, the temperance cause would take quite a different course, and very different means would be made use of for its advancement. There, teetotalism could hardly succeed: it would not be taken up with the same religious, almost fanatical, enthusiasm; few would be found to hang the medal round their necks; and the tumultuous meetings and soirées would not take the same shape. In a word, German temperance would assume a completely different physiognomy. So much is connected with the diffusion of temperance, that one may almost safely predict from its adoption a complete reform of the whole social condition of the Irish, since it chiefly aims at the infusing into the people a taste for a description of pleasure and enjoyments widely differing from those they formerly enjoyed in the whisky-shops.
As temperance tea-parties, such as that which I attended, are now almost daily given in all places in England and Ireland, it may be interesting to my readers to learn how it was conducted. The chairman opened the meeting by congratulating himself and this little town on its being deemed worthy of a visit from the great Apostle of Temperance. As often as he mentioned Father Mathew he bowed reverentially to him, designating him as ‘the great Apostle of Temperance,’ ‘the great god-gifted man,’ and by other equally high-flown titles. I thought of Christ, who, when his disciples praised him, said that no one was good but God in heaven; and I fancied that Father Mathew, who repudiates the miracles which the people ascribe to him, should likewise have disclaimed the gross flatteries which the orator uttered in his presence. Such a course would unquestionably add greatly to his other merits. But pompous and exaggerated expressions are so generally characteristic of the Irish, that incense of this nature, sprinkled upon him by his friends, may perhaps be necessary to maintain his reputation and influence with the people. (I forgot to mention that on his entering the room the band struck up the
Father Mathew then rose, and expressed his joy at finding himself again in Kilrush, and at seeing assembled around him so many of those who on his first visit had taken the pledge, and were still faithful to their vow. He then detailed (amid the continual cheers of the meeting, and ceaseless cries of ‘hear! hear!’) the most recent results of their great cause. In particular he gave an account of his last journey across the Channel to Glasgow, where, he said, no fewer than 80,000 persons of all religious persuasions assembled to meet him, and where he had shaken hands with thousands upon thousands: and though he was but a powerless straw on the great stream of temperance, he was received in Glasgow as if he were an angel come down from heaven (ipsissima verba). There are in Glasgow alone 50,000 Irish, and to these his visit must indeed have been particularly acceptable.
Father Mathew's eloquence is one of those endowments for which he is particularly admired. In point of fact, he possesses a sonorous voice, and, what is much more important, a glowing enthusiasm, and a firm conviction of the success of the cause. He occasionally hesitates, and even stammers. After he has been speaking for some time quite fluently and rapidly, he seems all at once unable to find some suitable word, or to express an idea sufficiently quick. His speech stops short, his tongue no longer obeys him, the construction of his sentences becomes entangled, his thoughts grow confused, he stops for a moment, he grows red, his regularly beautiful countenance becomes even distorted, he begins to make some convulsive efforts, and to help out his meaning with some movements of his hands, till at length the knot is suddenly unloosed, the thoughts again begin to flow, the new idea is born, the tongue again recovers its volubility, and the speech rushes along, sonorous and copious as before. I believe that this stopping and hesitation, which might seem to be a defect in an orator, often increases the interest with which Father Mathew is listened to. It is said that Alexander the Great, though a handsome man, had a stiff wry neck; and this, as Plutarch informs us, all his courtiers imitated, because in him they found it particularly interesting. When the figure or the language is generally beautiful, sundry little defects and irregularities only render this beauty still more interesting; and this, I believe, is the case with the occasional hesitation of Father Mathew. At first I imagined he was a little affected in this respect but I afterwards found it was a natural defect.
Father Mathew has a very pretty and delicate hand, and dresses well, almost elegantly. He usually wears a fine black great-coat, and his linen is dazzlingly white. There is something particularly distinguished and gentlemanlike in his entire person and appearance, which is the more remarkable, as he has ever been a man, of the people, has laboured and spoken for the humble and poor alone, and is beloved by them especially. Men of the people not unfrequently endeavour to increase their popularity by an affectation of cynicism, of which O'Connell is an instance, there being nothing elegant or gentlemanlike either in his person or appearance.
Father Mathew concluded his address amid universal and long-continued applause, the noise being equally as great as when he first entered the room. The people clapped their hands, stamped their feet, shouted, whistled, and the tumult was still farther swelled by the noise of the trumpets. A corpulent old man, one of the leading personages of the society, from whose brow the tea he had drunk was rolling down in big drops of perspiration, (Theeschweißtropfen,) continually waved his handkerchief, exclaiming, ‘Again! again!’ at the same time looking at Father Mathew with a sort of triumphant air, in order to read in his countenance an expression of joy and satisfaction. All this seems to be an indispensable appendage to temperance in Ireland.
In the intervals between the speeches the band in the gallery played Irish or English national melodies, but without the least regard to time, although the leader kept beating it most diligently. In the meantime we emptied cup after cup, and conversation became general around the table. On each of the cups and plates there was a portrait of Father Mathew, in the act of giving his blessing and the medal to the people—another addition to my list of overstrained Irish flatteries.
I asked Father Mathew whether he had any intention of extending his labours beyond Ireland and Scotland. He replied that he had long thought of visiting some parts of Germany in particular, but had hitherto been deterred by his ignorance of the language, which he feared would prove the greatest obstacle to his success. As an inspired apostle of temperance, he would be of use in almost every country, especially if he took the field against all kinds of intemperance. But to qualify him for this, the gift of tongues must descend upon him, as it did upon the Apostles of the New Testament; and I do not think it probable that he will ever extend his mission beyond his own island, and those towns of England in which his countrymen are most numerous. He will always find ample employment at home in keeping alive and regulating
In some of the intervals old Irish melodies were sung by the young people. Many of these were very beautiful; for although, in the early ages, Ireland was but little esteemed among the other nations of Europe, she has received from those remote periods, melodies more enchanting and exquisite than are to be found any where else in the world. At this meeting, as in all British festivities, there was no lack of toasts, prefaced by long speeches. The toast proposed with the most elaborate speech, though by no means received with the greatest enthusiasm, was ‘The Irish Clergy.’
At the commencement of the proceedings, Father Mathew had cautioned the speakers to refrain from all political allusions. ‘The only question which occupied them,’ he said, ‘was the cause of temperance, and the slightest allusions to religious and political differences (which they, as temperance men, ought to consider as not existing at all,) should be totally avoided.’ This admonition, however, was disregarded by one of the speakers, who alluded to O'Connell and his exertions in a manner that could not fail to be displeasing to every one who was not a partisan of this tribune of the people. ‘Order! order!’ exclaimed Father Mathew to this individual, with a commanding voice. This was, properly speaking, the duty of the chairman; but as he neglected it, Father Mathew immediately grasped the reins; and the quick and zealous manner in which he did so, and the promptness with
Towards midnight, after innumerable speeches and replies, toasts and counter-toasts, Father Mathew left the meeting. The tables and teapots were now removed, and a merry dance commenced, which must have continued some hours, as it was morning when I heard the temperance band playing their melodies through the street as they returned home.
At nine o'clock on the following morning, Father Mathew was again at his post. This time, however, the scene of his labours was the church, where he read mass, and then distributed temperance medals to some hundreds of persons who presented themselves for that purpose. This medal is a round piece of pewter, about the size of a five-franc piece. Upon it are stamped the words of the pledge, which are to the effect, that the holder will abstain from all intoxicating liquors, and do all in his power to dissuade others from using them. Some persons, as I have said, wear them constantly as a kind of amulet. They frequently hang them round the necks of their children, who are admitted into the society long before they know any thing of intoxicating liquors, evidently for the same reason that the Russians and other nations cause the sacrament to be administered to their children, before they know any thing of its signification. The wealthy have silver medals, which they wear on festive occasions. Along with this medal each person receives a paper, a sort of diploma, or certificate of admission into the society. In Ireland this medal is called ‘the pledge,’ and to ‘take the pledge’ means the same as to become a member of the society. On the other hand, ‘to break the pledge’ means to break the vow, and again return to intemperance. This of course is frequently the case, and it is not unusual to hear expressions of regret that so many have broken the pledge. Nor is this surprising. On the contrary, it is a wonder that so many millions conscientiously and faithfully confine themselves within the narrow bounds to which the temperance pledge confines them. It often happens that individuals come to Father Mathew with repentant confessions, return him their broken pledge, and entreat him to administer it once more. This he usually does, after inflicting on them some slight ecclesiastical punishment for breaking their vow. Frequently, too, people give him back the pledge, and entreat him entirely to release them from their vow, which circumstances make it impossible for them to keep. Thus, some
There are numbers, also, who have manifold ways of evading their vow. Many, I was informed, allege that they only pledged themselves not to drink intoxicating liquors in any wine, beer, or whisky shop, but that they may fill their glass in the house and drink it in the street. Such cases may occur, but they are, I have little doubt, extremely rare. Father Mathew himself related to me a strange case of an old colonel, who was much tormented by the gout. He had not personally taken the pledge, but two of his sons were teetotallers. He sometimes used to resolve, probably when he was suffering from his disorder, to devote himself to temperance. At such times he would borrow a medal from one of his sons, and wear it as an amulet to counteract his wish for intoxicating liquors. But no sooner had the gout disappeared, than his love for the bottle again returned, and the medal was forthwith restored to his son. As long, however, as he wore it, he strictly refrained from drinking a single drop; and his conduct in the matter may be regarded as not a little characteristic of the manner in which the Irish frequently appreciate both the medal and the pledge.
A circumstance which I will now mention ought not to be passed over in silence. For every medal which Father Mathew distributes he receives thirteen pence. This is confessedly more than the actual cost of the medal, which is probably obtained for a very small part of that sum. But assuming that it costs one-half, and that Father Mathew (as, according to his own account, is the case,) has distributed five millions of medals, these have produced him a clear gain of 2,500,000 shillings, or more than £100,000. It is, however, universally asserted that the motives by which Father Mathew is influenced, are too noble and elevated to permit him to apply to his own private use any portion of the vast sums which he has thus received, and that the whole amount is devoted to purposes of general utility. He makes frequent gifts of £50, £60, or £80 to charitable institutions, and every where privately assists the poor. He is also building a handsome and costly church in Cork for which, it is true, he makes special collections, but on
The chief object of the Irish Temperance Society may be expressed in two words, ‘total abstinence’—perfect, unlimited, and unconditional renunciation of all intoxicating liquors. There are some temperance societies which only require abstinence from whisky, and permit the use of other less pernicious liquors, as beer, wine, &c., and only forbid excess and intoxication. The Irish, especially Father Mathew, contend that this degree of abstinence is insufficient, at least for Ireland; since, if any avenue to the bottle were left, the whole broad path to intoxication would again be speedily opened, and a relapse to drunkenness the all too frequent consequence. They therefore devote themselves to ‘total abstinence,’ or, as they designate it in one word, to ‘teetotalism,’ and call themselves ‘teetotallers,’ in contradistinction to other temperance people. At first I imagined that this strange title had something to do with tea, and meant nothing but tea. ‘Teetotal’ is, however, an old Irish word in general use, which signifies entirely, as, ‘he is teetotally ruined.’
Rejoicing in the good fortune which had given me an opportunity of seeing so closely the great Apostle of Teetotalism, ‘the gifted divine,’ ‘the God-gifted,’ as he is also called, and with silent wishes for his future success, and a long life, I left the little town of Kilrush. Whether this reformation, so victoriously commenced, will continue and prosper, may perhaps be doubted; but
On the other hand, if we consider the temperance cause itself, there is no doubt that at this moment it restrains the greatest part of the nation within salutary bounds, and has kept it there for four years. This space of time is long enough to make the people feel and acknowledge the many advantages of their altered mode of
The leisure hours which the drunkard passed in a state of brutal insensibility, the temperance man spends in reading. Since he thus gains time and taste for the cultivation of his mind, he will pay more attention to the education of his children, and thus the civilization of the people will be improved. The drunkard is the most helpless being in the world, and always dependant upon others. Hence it is quite usual for those who wish to make others their dependants, to accustom them to the use of intoxicating liquors. The sober man alone is capable of governing himself, and a feeling of independence will arise among the hitherto deeply subjected Irish. They will be raised in their own esteem, and consequently in that of others. Intelligence and knowledge, which are also power, and the acquisition of property, which produces greater independence, will increase that desire for freedom which is inseparable from a manly character, and ultimately produce a freer political constitution. Much of what O'Connell, at the head of his Helots, now fiercely and vainly demands, mast be granted to a sober, intelligent, thriving, and freedom-loving people.
Still greater than any kind of knowledge, and still stronger than all good or bad resolves, is the power of habit. Should Father Mathew survive, and retain his activity and his influence, until the Irish are led by temperance to adopt other manners and habits, and consequently to change their national character, the battle will then be gained, and success secured for ever. The body can so accustom itself to water as no longer to be able to do without it, and no longer wish to touch intoxicating liquors. Five millions of people are at this moment employed (by suddenly interrupting the progress of their old customs, and adopting those which are entirely new,) in thoroughly changing their inclinations and dispositions, in making themselves quite new beings. They are becoming acquainted with feelings of the existence of which they had before no idea; they have invented new pleasures and social joys, which did not, for them, previously exist; in a word, the threads of better and improved habits have been spun, and the
It is curious that Christianity also spread through Ireland with a rapidity similar to that which has marked the progress of temperance. It burst forth, says Thomas Moore, on receiving the first beam of the apostolic light, and, with the sudden maturity of a northern summer, at once covered the entire land with fruits and blossoms. The foundation of this phenomenon Moore finds in the versatility which is peculiar to the Irishman, in the ease with which he submits to new impulses and influences, and which form so prominent a feature in his character. Christianity, notwithstanding the rapidity of its adoption, has now existed fourteen hundred years in Ireland. This, then, is a good omen for temperance. The former, however, had this advantage, that heathenism was exterminated in all the countries around, and that the Irish retained their Christianity in common with the entire world. But the vineyards, distilleries, and breweries will not be rooted out of the neighbouring countries in a similar manner.
Figures speak a very simple language. I shall therefore conclude this subject by allowing figures to speak for the cause of Father Mathew; as these clearly prove how much the consumption of spirituous liquors has decreased in Ireland since he made his appearance. In 1833, the quantity of malt used for making beer, whisky, &c., was 1,970,000 bushels. From this year there was a constant increase till 1836, when it amounted to 2,511,000 bushels. Since 1836 there has been a constant decrease, till, in 1840, it was only 1,600,000 bushels, or little more than half the quantity of 1836. The spirit duty amounted
Compare with this the following sums for England and Scotland:—
| Year | England | Scotland | |
|---|---|---|---|
| Duty on British Spirits | 1838 | £2,520,000 | £1,437,428 |
| ditto | 1839 | £2,552,628 | £1,488,000 |
| ditto | 1840 | £2,628,200 | £1,541,300 |
| Import Duty on Wine | 1838 | £1,590,000 | £121,004 |
| ditto | 1839 | £1,612,000 | £121,713 |
| ditto | 1840 | £1,580,000 | £130,126 |
Scotland affords the most remarkable, and at the same time the most melancholy example, of increased intemperance. In that country the consumption of malt has increased, in thirty years, from 784,000 to 4,309,000 bushels, or six-fold. In Ireland, during the same period, the consumption diminished from 3,033,000 bushels in 1810, to 1,604,000 in 1840; and even in England, the increase was only from 23,541,000 bushels in 1810, to 34,000,000 in 1840—a quantity which does not exhibit any great increase of intemperance, since the increase of population must have been in nearly the same ratio. If we compare this consumption of malt with the population of the three kingdoms, it appears that, in 1840,