It is said the Kerry people are learned, but poor, and somewhat boorish in their manners; the Limerick people handsome and polite; and the Dublin people extremely complaisant and hospitable, and the most refined of all the Irish. ‘And what are the Cork people?’ inquired I of my travelling companion, who was giving me all this information at the Commercial Hotel, where we had alighted. ‘Rather sharp!’ replied he; ‘they like to make merry at other people's expense, and are distinguished from all the other natives of Ireland by their peculiar and witty mockery. They are quick at remarking the weak sides of others, and often mercilessly persecute them with delicate yet cutting sarcasms.’ ‘Have the Cork people themselves, then, no weak side?’ ‘Oh yes!’——But while my friend was meditating a suitable reply, there burst forth beneath our window one of those most frightful attempts at music which the temperance bands, who march through the streets of Cork in the evening, are in the habit of making; and as it was Saturday night, they were followed by so many persons, that I clearly perceived that one of the weak sides of the CorkCork people must be some where in the region of their ears, since, were it otherwise, their police would not suffer the ears of the entire public to be annoyed by sounds more detestable than even the catterwauling of cats.
The following day, on visiting the picture exhibition of this good city, I imagined that I had discovered another of the weak sides of the Cork people, in a neighbourhood not very remote from their eyes, since upon the various pieces of canvas which were here exposed to view, so many displeasing forms and colours were brought together, that their want of harmony annoyed me almost as much as the music of the evening before. As, however, I had come to this exhibition not to criticise the works of the Cork artists, nor to delight myself with perfect creations of art, but to
The painters of every country, especially at present, when tableaux de genre are so much the order of the day, represent in their pictures so much that is descriptive of their nation, of the geography and the climate of their country, and so much that is characteristic of the manners and habits of its people, that any one who has made these his study must every where use picture galleries as one of the chief sources from whence to draw his information, and should not despise even the most insignificant exhibitions. Thus, at the Cork exhibition were displayed the busts of the Mayor of Cork, of last year's Lord Mayor of Dublin, Daniel O'Connell, and of Father Mathew. Then there was an emigration scene, of poor Irish leaving their beloved Erin for America; besides various Irish fishermen, and several views of wild mountains and turf-bogs. The best thing a painter can do is to represent the scenes and incidents of his own country, for in them men of the slightest talent may be certain they have a subject they understand, and that they will produce a picture which, if it is at all tolerable, possesses the merit of being a copy of something, and therefore likely to be of some use to the world. Even the greatest genius can, perhaps, only produce a masterpiece when he remains within the horizon of his nationality, and can only attain extraordinary excellence by embodying in his pictures the national scenes or national habits characteristic of his country. The greatest painters, like the greatest poets, have ever been eminently patriotic, and their best creations have invariably sprung from the inmost depths of their own souls, and illustrate the life of their nation or the nature of their fatherland.
But the chief strength of Cork lies in other things than the fine arts. This city is well known as the principal port for the exportation of the raw produce of the whole south of Ireland. I therefore hastened to the store-houses of the town—to the slaughter-houses, packing-cellars, and to its butter weigh-house, salting establishments, &c., in order to acquire information respecting those particular branches of industry in which the greater part of the population is employed.
In the neighbourhood of Cork are some of the greatest dairies in Ireland. Kerry, and other cattle-grazing districts, are also not very distant; so that here the largest quantities of butter, bacon, hams, meat, and cattle are brought together. In the same manner, the principal export of Dublin is grain, the produce of the arable districts by which it is surrounded. Butter is one of the chief
At the cellars of the provision merchants are to be seen immense quantities of ‘life stores’. Masses of hams and sides of bacon are arranged in long rows, like octavo and folio volumes. In the suburbs are extensive slaughter-houses for pigs, in which thousands of the inmates of the Irish cabins and rent-payers yearly lay down their lives. I would like to know with what feelings hungry Paddy studies these folios of bacon! It is lamentable to think that the poor Irishman must hand over to others such vast quantities of what he himself so much stands in need. Ireland is to the English, in some measure, what Sicily was to the Romans, and is to the Neapolitans at the present day. That lovely island was always, in like manner, tyrannized over and plundered by Italy. Were Paddy only a little more industrious, he could, I am certain, keep a flitch in his own chimney for festive days. As it is, however, he must first become a soldier of her Majesty, and sail away thousands of miles after the bacon he has fattened in his cabin, and then, in the East or West Indies, he may perchance be allowed to partake of it, as large quantities of provisions are made up in Cork for troops on foreign service.
Very interesting in this town are the establishments of those merchants who deal in fresh provisions, which they know how to preserve in their original freshness by some peculiar process of their own. These merchants are called ‘preserved fresh provision merchants.’ This branch of trade has been established in Ireland within the last twenty years, and has lately been considerably extended. Things of this kind can only be seen in Great Britain, because it is the only country which has so great an interest in being able to send all kinds of provision to every
The perfection which this art has attained is best proved by the testimony which Captain Ross has presented to this establishment. He certifies that in the year 1824 he bought here various cases of vegetables for his north-western expedition. Many of these remained in the stranded ship Fury till August, 1833, nine years afterwards, when they were again found and opened; and although during this time they had been exposed to all the injurious influences of that northern climate—in winter to a cold 52 degrees below zero of Fahrenheit, and in summer to a heat 80 degrees above zero—yet all the cases were found uninjured, and their contents in a state of perfect preservation, and fit for use.
Every thing connected with this branch of trade is remarkably complete. Thus, for instance, a quantity of cases are in readiness, each of which contains as much cream as is requisite for twelve cups, and others for twenty-four or thirty-six cups. The captain of a ship who wishes to supply himself here, has therefore only to state the number of his officers or passengers, to be provided with cases containing exactly the portions required for his daily consumption. Thus he wastes nothing, and even more regular economy is practicable than if there were cows on board. In like manner, the portions of meat and vegetables in each case are suited for a certain number of persons; and there is this further advantage, that most of the articles are already cooked, and both trouble and fire are alike saved. Sauces and soups, of every possible kind, prepared after the best rules of cookery, are also packed up in the same way, so that it is only necessary to give the article to the nearest sailor to warm, and
The quays of Cork present much that is interesting in the shipping of all these varieties of merchandize, especially the embarkation of the live stock, pigs, oxen, cows, &c. The shipping of the pigs is the most amusing, and hundreds of the idle strollers of Cork stand looking on, delighted with the scene. It is an inexhaustible source of entertainment to behold this humorous Paddy, this ‘queer fellow’ as he calls himself, who makes so much noise in whatever occupation he may be engaged, and who, as a ‘ready-witted’ Cork lady said to me, ‘is always allowed to say every thing twice,’—this talking, shrieking, gesticulating Irishman, bidding farewell to his ‘rent-payers,’ and busied about them there for the last time, and at last hoisting them into the ship which is to waft them away from Erin's soil. One ship is being laden with firkins of butter for foreign lands, where Ireland must be thought one of the richest countries in the world, or she would not export these whole cargoes of fat. Another is receiving sacks of flour, and the poor porters are almost sinking beneath a load of bread-stuff, of which not a morsel will fall to their share. A third is being provided with ships' biscuits, which have been baked in the great ‘steam-mill bakeries’ of Cork, dried and prepared to keep for years. Strange it is that this poor hungry Ireland, in which so many actually die of hunger every year, and in whose bills of mortality and hospital books ‘starvation’ is as regular a heading as any other cause of death;—strange it is, I say, that this country should, above all things, be destined to feed so many strangers to her soil.
During my stroll about these quays, I saw lying at them three of the quickest of English steamboats—the Princess Royal, the Prince of Wales, and the Fire-King. The Princess Royal is generally allowed to be the swiftest of all the steamboats which ply between the British Isles. On an average, including good and bad weather, she proceeds at the rate of twelve miles and a half an hour. The Prince of Wales was once considered the quickest, but its speed is now exceeded by the Princess Royal by two minutes in six and thirty miles. I am here speaking of sea-boats only, for on the Thames there are steamboats which can make twenty miles an hour. The Princess Royal is a beautiful vessel, and her saloons and cabins are fitted up quite in rococo style. She has now taken her station in Cork, and aids in bringing Ireland into closer connexion with England. All the vessels in this trade must, above all things, be constructed for animal passengers, and accordingly this elegant Princess has on her deck peculiar arrangements for
One of my most interesting and instructive visits in Cork was to the county gaol built here some years ago, both for debtors and criminals. The governors of English prisons are liberally instructed at all times to give every information to strangers respecting their arrangements; and the promptitude with which they answer the inquiries of all foreigners is deserving of high praise: they appear to have no secrets whatsoever. To the visitor who is properly introduced, their books are opened; he is not only permitted, but invited, to put any questions he pleases to the prisoners; and he is supplied with books, documents, and papers, from which he can derive farther information more at his leisure. The most gratifying information I gained from the papers lent to me in Cork, in so friendly a manner, was the extraordinary decrease of crime in Ireland since the first year of the temperance movement; and as I think this great phenomenon cannot be too generally known, I will here state the facts which appear to prove it.
The total number of criminals of all kinds brought to trial in Ireland, was—
In 1839 there were 1300 criminals sentenced to transportation, and in 1841 only 900; but at the present day sentence of transportation is less frequently passed, and still less frequently is it carried into effect.
Even in Tipperary, which is the most turbulent and disturbed county in Ireland, crime has evidently diminished. The population of Tipperary is only one-eighteenth part of the whole of Ireland. Therefore, as the total number of cases of riot in all Ireland in 1839 was 3409, the relative proportion for Tipperary, if its population had not been more turbulent than that of the others, would have been 200, instead of which, there were in that year 685 riots, or nearly 3 1/2 times as much as the mean proportion. In the same year, 81 out of 286, or nearly one-third of all the murders in Ireland, were perpetrated in this remarkable county, whilst the correct proportion would have been 16 only. Hence it appears that the people in Tipperary are five times as murderous as the Irish in general.
I was informed by the governor of the prison that a still further improvement was perceptible in 1842, there being only 65 criminals brought to trial in Cork at the July assizes of that year, the smallest number ever known.
When the criminal statistics of England are compared with those of Ireland, the former appear to evident disadvantage, crime having increased in England, during the same period, in nearly the same proportion that it has decreased in Ireland. Thus, in England—
Still, notwithstanding this, the number of indictments is, in Ireland, undeniably greater than in England, in proportion to the population. In 1841, Ireland contained eight millions of inhabitants, of whom about 20,000 (or 1 in 400,) were indicted; whilst
The proportion of murders in England to those in Ireland is particularly remarkable. In England, the number of murders or attempts to murder were—
The most frightful feature in the criminal statistics of Great Britain is the great number of juvenile and neglected offenders which every where fill the prisons. In the last few years, out of 100 prisoners, there were always about eight under sixteen years old; and in 1839, in Ireland, seven were convicted of murder and manslaughter under sixteen years of age. It must also be remembered that the laws are more severe against young persons in England than in our country. It is, however, an exceedingly lamentable truth, that the number of youthful offenders in Ireland has by no means decreased in the same ratio as the total number of criminals; it has rather remained remarkably stationary; nay, in some branches it has even increased. For instance, the number of criminals in Ireland under sixteen years old, was—
This is easily reconcilable with my remarks respecting temperance, which would naturally have a less powerful effect on children,
An important act of parliament (7th George IV.), passed in 1824, has produced a reform of the gaols of the United Kingdom; and since that time a number of healthy and well-arranged prisons have been erected in various parts of England. Previous to this there were, of course, tolerable gaols in most of the large cities; but in the small towns, and in the interior of the country, they resembled dismal caverns, and were called by the people in general ‘black holes.’ A frightful description of those places of confinement was laid before the House of Lords in 1819, but all these are now swept away by ‘the prison act,’ as it is termed. In place of the black holes, in which offenders were kept in safe custody, previous to their removal to the county gaol, small prisons, called bridewells, in which the offenders remain until the county assizes are held, are now generally used. In the county of Cork no fewer than seventeen of these bridewells have been erected within the last
The Cork county Gaol is a large and handsome building, and is appropriated for debtors as well as for criminals. There are ‘master debtors,’ who support themselves, and ‘pauper debtors,’ who are supported at the public expense. In these enlightened modern times, it is strange that people have not yet learned better logic, than to compel the man whose only offence is that he cannot pay his debts, and who has nothing whatever in common with criminals, to become their companion. It is also an evident injustice to the poor debtor to thrust him through the same gate with malefactors, and into a place which entails upon him so much disgrace. Formerly the insane were also confined there; in fine, all who on any account were required to be kept in custody. As the necessity for a distinction between lunatics and criminals has at length become apparent, the debtors may probably hereafter be also separated.
A captain of the navy, who some years since was governor here, has introduced into this prison many improvements, which are deserving of notice, and may perhaps be thought worthy of imitation elsewhere. In the first place, instead of beds he introduced hammocks, as being that description of sleeping accommodation which unites the most perfect cleanliness with the greatest saving of room. He next invented dining-tables without legs, which are lowered from the ceiling by very simple machinery, and drawn up again when no longer required for use. Thus they completely disappear, and leave the dining-room quite unencumbered. For seats in those eating-rooms they have round, smooth blocks of wood, painted black. These seats are not unsightly; and whilst they are indestructible, they may also be piled up in a corner without ceremony, and without taking up much room.
The entire prison is built of iron and stone; and as Paddy's dwelling is usually constructed of earth or mud, it may be said, without exaggeration, that for the commission of a wicked crime an Irishman is removed from a hole to a palace. His diet is also, in general, very much improved; for while he remained at home, with unimpeached honour, he had only watery potatoes; but as an offender in prison, he receives daily two pounds of bread and an allowance of milk along with it. It would, indeed, be difficult
Another interesting institution in Cork is the fever hospital, which is one of the best in Ireland, and boasts that the mortality of its inmates is less than in any other similar establishment in the United Kingdom. No fewer than from 1500 to 2000 patients are annually received into this hospital. There is a fever hospital in the principal town of almost every Irish county, and sometimes one in the smaller towns also. Dublin, it is well known, has the largest and best in the world. Fever patients, who are so very numerous in Ireland, are by the rules alone admissible into those hospitals, yet other patients are also occasionally received. In 1839, out of 1970 patients in the Cork fever hospital, 1856 were fever cases, and the remainder people affected with other diseases. Fevers of all kinds, especially nervous, and above all that worst description of them, the typhus, are every where prevalent in Ireland. Typhus is so common here, that when fever simply is
Misery, want, bad food, scarcity of fuel, and the moist climate, are probably the original causes of this disease. The records of the Cork fever hospital inform us that the greatest number of patients is received in April and May, and in November and December. The former are the months in which the distress of the poor in Ireland is at its greatest height; and the latter months are those in which the greatest quantity of rain falls. It is also remarked that in years of extreme wetness or scarcity the typhus fever is most prevalent. The increased humidity of a year works not only directly on the constitution, but also increases disease indirectly, by preventing the preparation and drying of the turf, and increasing the price of this necessary article so much that it is unattainable by the poor. How often does it happen, in Ireland, that they are compelled to break up and burn their tables, bedsteads, and other furniture, to procure a little warmth!
The inhabitants of the little Irish island which forms the renowned Cape Clear, suffered so much from a scarcity of fuel in 1839, that they came together and cast lots, which first, and which second and third, should tear down his cabin in order to warm the dwellings of the others with its materials. But the fever-plague was only increased by this proceeding; for as they were all crowded together in narrow rooms, and admitted no fresh air into their houses, the infection spread with still greater violence. Besides, in wet and cold years the poor are often compelled to mend the roofs of their houses with the straw which they had destined for their beds; and on these occasions, instead of fresh straw, they have to sleep upon old, or most probably upon none at all. All the misery that a wet year thus produces in Ireland (and on account of the peculiar nature of the country, it produces more than with us,) tends to increase typhus, and to fill the fever hospitals. Whilst other lands always wish for rain, Ireland generally longs for dry weather: the ground retains so much moisture that a dry year is never injurious. The potatoes then turn out best, and the turf is most easily made; and turf and potatoes are here the foundation of all earthly happiness, and even of existence itself, the true ‘nervus omnium verum,’ as money is in other lands.
Cork, like most towns in Ireland, has its barracks, which stand on a hill in the suburbs of the city. These barracks are more interesting than usual, as Cork is one of those harbours in which troops are embarked and provisioned for the colonies, and where they also disembark on their return home. The usual period of foreign service is three years, after which, for ten years, the regiments are continually changing their quarters throughout the entire kingdom—Ireland, Scotland, and England—when they are again shipped for the colonies, where also they are frequently moved from one place to another. When it is considered how long, according to this system, the troops must be maintained and supported unprofitably on the wide waves of the ocean, it is evident that on this account alone the English army must be one of the most expensive in the world. Of every regiment sent to the colonies, a part (two companies, I believe,) remains behind in the mother country, to attend to the interests of the regiment, but principally to collect recruits, train them, and send them to the regiment on the foreign station. Those companies which remain behind are termed the depôt of the regiment. The periods of circulation for the artillery and infantry are different; and the troops destined for the East Indies have also their own peculiar regulations. The latter have no depots in Cork, being all equipped and embarked from English harbours.
One of my first walks in Cork was to these barracks. The great gate which leads to the inner court was placarded from top to bottom with advertisements, inviting young men to enter her Majesty's service. These English invitations are, in their composition, of a very characteristic nature; and we on the Continent, where every one is compelled to serve as a soldier in his turn, can form no idea of them. They are generally got up like attractive playbills: for instance, at the top of one is placed the representation of a dashing horseman galloping in full uniform, and underneath, in large letters, ‘GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!’ It then proceeds to say, that ‘twelve of the finest of her Majesty's regiments, of the greatest respectability, and of the most acknowledged gallantry, are now open to the free choice of the sons of Erin. Now is the very best time for active young men to enrol themselves in one of them for her Majesty's service, it is the most easy service,
My time would not permit me to copy these announcements verbatim; but many of them were of a much more alluring character, and offered still greater advantages than those I have mentioned. Recruiting parties from the various regimental depots, composed of the tallest and finest-looking men, are also sent into the surrounding towns and villages, where, their caps profusely decorated with bunches of many-coloured ribbons, and their sticks and sword-belts also ornamented with ribbons and flowers, they parade the streets and market-places, and visit the alehouses, in order to entrap the ‘spirited young men.’ It is surprising that so many healthy young Irishmen are able to resist all these allurements, and that, on the contrary, they do not all eagerly grasp at the prospect of exchanging their filthy rags and miserable cabins for good gay clothing and comfortable barracks. His native soil must have numberless attractions for an Irishman, that he so often prefers privations at home to plenty and abundance in the English colonies.
Cork barracks are said to be the largest and best in the kingdom; and as we wandered about in the sleeping-rooms and eating-rooms, the canteens, (as the sutlers' shops or alehouses in English barracks are called,) the officers' mess-rooms, and the extensive squares, we every where saw much to excite interest and attract our attention. The 10th hussars, returning from exercise, defiled before us. The regiment was composed of remarkably fine men, and the noblest horses in the world. The saddles were all ornamented with tiger skins, most of them genuine. The equipment of English soldiers is indeed the most costly in the world, for everything is of the best quality: thus the hussar-jackets worn by the officers in this regiment, alone cost about forty pounds each. Imitation gold, in epaulettes or lace, is unknown in the English army; and the cloth worn by the officers (rendered still more expensive on account of its red colour) costs about two pounds per yard. As the English troops have to visit extremely different climates, a relaxation of the strict regulations
It is said that the English have adopted the red colour for their soldiers, in order the better to conceal the blood from their wounds, so that the recruits, when first brought into action, may not be frightened by the sight of so much blood. But on the other hand, as there is so little in nature that is red, his dress makes the English soldier more easily distinguished, and thousands may have been slain by the enemy's bullet, who, in gray or green clothes, might not have been perceived. This red dress has doubtless rendered many English victories much more sanguinary and fatal to the troops, and it is inconceivable that no attempt should yet have been made to introduce a gradual change of colour. For the well-known colour of the uniform of the British navy a more plausible reason is assigned,—that indigo blue is the only colour which can withstand the destructive effects of salt water.
One of the officers informed me that the band-master of his regiment was a German. This is very frequently the case, in English as well as in Russian regiments. These band-masters are very well paid, receiving as much as twelve shillings a day, besides diet and clothing. Of all foreigners, Germans are most frequently found in the English service, especially in the navy; whilst Frenchmen are most rarely met with. It is said, however, that no Frenchman is permitted to enter the British navy. (Are there any Englishmen in the French service?) It is only in the cooking department that the exception to this rule, so unfavourable to the French, is apparent; for in the mess-room of the 45th regiment, which was about to be embarked for the Mediterranean, I found a cook of that nation. A German tailor, whom I also met here, and who was kind enough to direct my attention to many things worthy of notice, assured me that this was the only Frenchman he had ever known in the English army, and he must have seen a large portion of it, during his long residence in Cork, where he had assisted in clothing most of the regiments that are constantly passing through that city.
Germans are somewhat scarce in Cork. I could only hear of five, and three-fifths of these I saw, that is to say — the tailor above-mentioned, a teacher of music, and a young musician, — all
In the neighbourhood of Cork are two sights, one of which, although very celebrated, is scarcely worth the trouble of visiting; whilst the other is as beautiful as it is famous. The latter is the voyage down the river Lee to Cove; and the former is the ruins of Blarney Castle, so well known from the popular song of ‘The Groves of Blarney,’ and also by the legend that whoever kisses a certain projecting stone of the castle, is gifted by the fairies with a remarkable and irresistible amiability, especially in the eyes of the fair sex. This legend has called forth numerous ill-natured caricatures against poor O'Connell; amongst others, one in which he is represented sitting on the Blarney Stone and deriving his irresistible powers from this kind of kissing. All this, however, one may very easily imagine, without going to see it. But the voyage down the Lee to Cove must be made in person to be duly appreciated.
The south, or rather the south-eastern, coast of Ireland, from Cape Clear to Carnsore Point, forms a nearly straight line, 120 miles long. It contains a number of inlets, or arms of the sea, which, being less deep, broad, and long than those on the western coast, which are termed bays, are here simply called harbours. Such are the harbours of Baltimore, Glandore, Kinsale, Oysterhaven, Cork, Youghal, Dungarvon, Waterford, and Wexford; into most of which now small rivers, as the Bandon into Kinsale harbour, the Lee into Cork harbour, the Blackwater into Youghal harbour, and the Suir into Waterford harbour. All these rivers
Accompanied by one of my German fellow-countrymen, and a numerous crowd of Sunday travellers which filled the steamboat, I embarked on the beautiful stream. The city of Cork lies picturesquely beautiful on both sides of the river, which unfortunately is somewhat shallow near the town. To remedy this defect, a great ‘navigation wall’ has been built, by means of which the channel is narrowed and deepened. The sailors are benefited by this improvement; but not so many hundreds of the poor citizens who prefer living on dry ground, but whose houses, in consequence of this contraction of the river, are frequently inundated with water, and rendered uninhabitable during high floods.
The bay is full of islands, which seem to divide it into many arms. All these islands are richly cultivated, and many charming villas closely approach the water, or rather lie near it, in delightful succession, and surrounded by extensive parks. The water itself was every where alive with ships and boats; and here and there, where there is a little harbour, as at Passage, they lay in thick groups. The ships, the channel, the villas, the parks, their beautiful trees and meadows, and the little groves—all these, as they presented themselves on the voyage, formed a rapid succession of the most varied and delightful pictures.
At the extremity of the largest island, called the Great Island, lies the principal roadstead of Cork, the well-known Cove, with its slate-covered houses (like the houses in Elberfeld and Barmen,) rising one over the other, on the steep shore of the island, in the form of an amphitheatre. We climbed the ascent behind the town, to obtain from thence a view of the entire scene; and on our way thither met half the population of Cove, which streamed down from the church, situated high on the hill; so that at every step, along with the beauties of nature, we had also to admire the remarkably handsome appearance of the so-called better classes of the race inhabiting those districts.
From the hill one looks down on the deepest part of the bay, which is widest at Cove, and is studded with numerous small islands, some of which, as Spike Island, Haulbowline, &c., lie in it like great ships of the line. The latter is furnished with an extensive magazine of sea stores, in which the ships and expeditions which are here equipped find every thing they require. Before the bay joins the open sea it is again narrowed, and on each point of the peninsulas which form this strait a fort is erected to guard the entrance. Between these forts one looks out on the free ocean, and sees various dark-looking specks in the distance, which are known to be ships, looking out for the entrance, which is recognized by Roche's lighthouse—the first indication of Cork Harbour to be seen from the open sea. It is said, that on clear nights this light is visible twenty-five miles off at sea. Out of thirty-six lighthouses, there are only two which shine still farther over the sea, viz., Arran Island light in the west, visible twenty-nine miles distant, and that of Cape Clear at twenty-eight miles. Of these thirty-six, twenty-six are termed first-class lighthouses; ten have two lights, one has three, and seven are revolving lights: all the rest are fixed.
I could learn nothing certain respecting the great magazines I have mentioned as being on one of the islands in the middle of the bay. Whilst some affirmed that most of the stores were empty, others stated that these magazines were now almost entirely disused; but all thought it ridiculous that the three regiments lately sent to China, and which were ultimately furnished with provisions from Ireland, should not have been here supplied in the first instance, certainly at a much cheaper rate, and sent direct from Cork to their destination. Instead of this, however, they were first embarked here in steamers, and sent partly to Liverpool, and partly to Bristol; from whence they travelled by steam and railroads to London, and from thence again by steam to Chatham, where at last they embarked for China. This little preparatory journey alone cost upwards of £5000, all of which might have been saved at Cork.
I heard farther complaints here of the falling off of the fisheries, It is well known that fish, especially salmon, was formerly so abundant in all the mouths of English rivers, that, as in Bristol for instance, people were forbidden to give their servants salmon more than twice a week. The same story is told of some German towns; but the English salmon fisheries are now almost every where destroyed. This result may probably, in some degree, be attributed to the great increase of salmon-eaters; but is also in an equal degree referrible to the inordinate increase of manufactories,
The city of Cork carries on an important trade in timber, vast quantities of which are every where to be seen on the landing-places of the harbour, and even on the water. It was mostly American timber. Baltic timber is usually much preferred, but it is of course dearer than that brought from the British Colonies. It is said that American timber rots much quicker than the Baltic, probably because the young speculative colonists, who wish to make money, and room for themselves in the forests of America, do not take such care in its management as the land and forest-owners in the Baltic provinces. It is also said that it is particularly liable to dry rot; and some years ago there was a great outcry against it on this account. All the world joined in the clamour: long articles were written in the newspapers about dry rot, and all who had built houses of American timber were afraid that, before they were aware, their roofs would come tumbling about their ears. Many, in their alarm, even pulled down their houses, and had them rebuilt with Baltic timber. Numerous remedies were suggested for the prevention of this dry rot, and there was even an Antidry-rot Company established, which advised and proposed, I know not what, but at last came before parliament with a petition praying that the duty on Baltic timber might be abolished. This, in fact, was the sole object of the ‘dry-rot bubble;’ and the whole outcry was probably originated and promoted by jobbers
On my way to Cove I had observed on the shore a large building, which I was informed was a nunnery, and also a place of education for young ladies. Next day, provided with letters of introduction by some kind lady-patronesses at Cork, I visited this institution. It contains forty young ladies of the higher classes, who are here instructed in all the fine arts and sciences, and at the same time partake of the discipline of the cloister. The building is very spacious and elegant, and the teachers are nuns of the congregation of Paris. The principal of the institution, a lady of most polished manners, was so obliging as to conduct me over the entire building, and thus made me acquainted with an educational establishment which left nothing to be desired. I could scarcely have believed that Ireland, whose ancient renowned schools lie in ruins, now possessed such a seminary. Many Irish families send their daughters to France, to be educated in the convents there; and even in this institution the education was half French, the ladies preferring to converse in that language, and taking much pleasure in speaking of France. The French have also, on their side, an extreme partiality for the Irish, because they regard them as having been oppressed by their Germanic conquerors, as well on account of their Catholicism as of their Celtic origin. No French book appears respecting Ireland that does not laud O'Connell to the sky, that is not full of admiration for the Irish national character, and equally redolent of denunciations of the English and their tyranny, as well as of blindness to those benefits which, like roses among thorns, Ireland actually finds in her union with England.
As the Sclavonic and Germanic races are opposed to each other, so there is also a union of Celtic or Roman races,—(the two are and have ever been united)—the French, Italians, and Irish, against the Germanic races, the Germans, Dutch, and English. The Irish know this well, and are therefore much more friendly to the French than the English are. In general the Irish speak the French language with fluency, and have great politeness and affability of manner. The attention of France is always directed towards Ireland, with which she is constantly coquetting and intriguing,
There are more convents than monasteries in Ireland; but the number of both, especially of the latter, is extremely small. The city of Prague alone contains more of these religious establishments than are to be found in all Ireland—a fact which will, I think, excite the astonishment of my German readers. Knowing, as we do, how strongly the Irish are attached to the Catholic religion, and looking upon them as arch-Catholics, according to our modes of thinking, we in general picture to ourselves the whole land full of priests, nuns, monks, churches, and cloisters; and expect to find crucifixes, crosses, and images on all the roads; in a word, that Ireland has, in this respect, the same appearance as Bohemia and some parts of Austria. But how widely and remarkably different is the reality. The priests are seldom seen in the streets; and I never saw monks and nuns mixing with the people in the streets, as in Italian and Bohemian towns. No splendid churches have ever been built in the Irish cities—in the style, I mean, of those in Belgium, and also in some towns of France and Germany. No remarkable ecclesiastical buildings, like those ancient, picturesque, and venerable structures which stand in the streets of our Catholic towns in Germany, are to be found in Ireland. The cathedrals of Dublin and Armagh are the only ones of any celebrity; and the first of these, which I saw, presented so little that is deserving of notice, that I am inclined to mistrust the alleged beauty of the other.
In the Catholic countries of the Continent, the neighbourhoods of the churches are generally adorned with a multitude of little chapels; but these are either entirely wanting in Irish towns and villages, or are extremely few in number. Nowhere on the roads are there stone crosses, or statues of saints, before which travellers may kneel in prayer. The old churches, abbeys, and cloisters of the land, as well as the old stone crosses, lie in ruins, or are completely swept away.
If the Bohemians had a saint so famed and honoured as St. Patrick, they would have erected a thousand statues to his honour in all corners of the land, as they have done with their St. Nepomuck. In Ireland, on the other hand, there are scarcely two statues of St. Patrick. In short, the whole land seems as if
In no country has Protestantism tyrannized over Catholicism so completely as in Ireland. Until lately, the Catholics were not permitted to have high steeples, or large bells in their churches; and at one time, say the people, ‘the Protestants forbade us Catholics to eat with a knife and fork, a spoon only being allowed us, and what we could not catch with that we had to eat with our fingers.’ There was also the shameful law by which a younger son, who chose to leave the Catholic religion and turn Protestant, might claim the property of his elder brethren, who adhered to their ancient faith. In no other country have Protestants endeavoured to make proselytes by such laws as these; nor has any other nation, whilst preserving the outward form of the old Catholic church, retained also, as in Ireland, her tyrannical, exclusive, persecuting, heretic-branding, and proselytizing spirit. All those errors are much more natural and pardonable in the ancient mother church, than in its Protestant rival, which raised its banner in the name of freedom of conscience, and claimed a toleration in matters of faith which it was bound to grant to others in return. The Catholic church regards itself as the only true and universal church, to which all Christians shall and must belong; and tyranny and intolerance are, therefore, much more natural to it. But the exercise of similar tyranny by Protestantism, which protested against all tyranny in matters of religion, is just as disgraceful and unnatural as it would be to a liberal in politics.
The emancipation of the Irish Catholics has, indeed, greatly moderated and improved their condition. Not only are Catholics now admitted into Parliament, but every where throughout the country they enjoy a much greater equality—a result which cannot fail to be gratifying to every humane and right-minded Protestant. A Catholic, and a poor man, were formerly in Ireland almost synonymous terms. The Catholic, even if he did not belong to the lower orders, was ever obsequious and humble to the Protestant, who, on his part, was haughty and exclusive. Now, they
In following up the complete emancipation of the Catholics, and the reforming of their situation, it is to be hoped that the position of their priests may speedily be altered, so as to do away with the contemptible practices which still prevail in their churches. I allude more especially to the collections which are made at the doors of Catholic churches for the benefit of the priesthood. The small income of the Irish priests has compelled them to collect a tribute from church-goers, for the service of God, such as is not raised in a similar manner in any other Catholic country. I witnessed these collections in several places, among others in Cork. The tribute was gathered at two entrances—at the principal gate where the poor went into the churth, and were obliged to pay a penny each; and at a side door, where the rich entered, and payed as much more as they pleased. At the latter was posted up, in large letters, ‘A SILVER COLLECTION IS EXPECTED;’ that is to say, you are expected to pay at least sixpence. A priest attended in person to receive the money, and also, as I was told, to produce by his presence a still more effectual impression on the purses of the people. He returned thanks with a bow for every gift that was deposited on the plate. Before the principal door of the church, which was open, and on the steps leading to it, were crowded many poor people and beggars—too poor to pay the required tribute. They lay with folded hands and bended knees upon the stones, and listened for the far-off sounds that reached them from the interior of the church. ‘They are satisfied,’ said my companion, ‘if they but hear the little bell of the assistant of the priest who officiates at the altar; when they have heard that little bell from within, and
I, and many others, who were accustomed to the matter, looked on this scene without perceiving in it any thing very disgraceful; but if we examine it narrowly, clearly, and sharply with the torch which Christ has placed in our hands, can we find language too strong in which to reprobate a state of things, which forces the priest to resort to such measures in order to support his existence? It is said that the incomes of the Catholic priests in Ireland are chiefly derived from these collections, which are censured by the Protestants still more than by the Catholic laity, although the former are not called on to pay any thing, but are in reality those by whom this scandal was originated, since it was by the Protestants that the Irish Catholic church was deprived of its ancient revenues. The utterly destitute Irish are thus entirely excluded from the worship of God, except what pertains to the tinkling sound of the mass-bell; and were the inmost recesses of their hearts less deeply imbued with religious feeling, the result would be most unfavourable to their spiritual welfare.
Those who deem the ancient Irish language as their mother tongue, are still worse provided for. In the great city of Cork—around which Irish is still much spoken—two preachers only deliver sermons in that language; and yet it is very natural that the people should wish to hear what they hold most sacred in the language they love the best. A short time since, as I was informed by the chaplain himself, the prisoners in the Cork county gaol petitioned him occasionally to preach his sermon in Irish instead of English.
The Roman Catholic bishop of Cork has one of the most interesting collections of books I have anywhere seen. This learned and industrious man has turned his whole house into a library: not only has he converted his sitting-rooms and dining-rooms into book-rooms, but even in his bed-rooms every available space is filled with books: his attendants, even his maid-servants, sleep in little libraries; the staircases are lined with books along the walls; and the corridors which lead from room to room have full bookcases at their sides; every where books are literally piled up, even to the garrets. This is the largest private library in Ireland, and contains many interesting and costly works. I mention this, because I believe it is not generally known that there are still such men among the Roman Catholic clergy, who regard and collect every thing relating to literature with such extraordinary zeal. The time once was, indeed, when Ireland was better known in Europe than many other lands, and when more light streamed
But those times are now much changed. The island can no longer be styled, even by a poet, ‘Felix Hibernia!’ All the productions of Irish poets are somewhat melancholy; and Haydn, when an Irish melody was played before him, without his knowing from what country it came, said that such music must belong to an unhappy and enslaved people. The great and promising spirits which frequently arise in the island are speedily absorbed by England in the various services of the state. For study and literature, the Irish Catholics mostly resort to the Continent; but they have lately obtained a Roman Catholic seminary at Maynooth, in their fatherland. The worthy prelate of Cork informed me that he had received his education in France, which country is generally preferred by the Irish clergy for acquiring the knowledge requisite for their vocation; and in my wanderings through Ireland I twice met with poor old men who expressed a strong wish to save enough to enable them to send thither their sons, (who had devoted themselves to the priesthood,) when they reached the proper age.
In no country that I have visited is mourning so general as in the United Kingdom, and no where have I seen so many black craped, mourning gentlemen as in Cork. Mourning is not only usual in very many cases where it would not be thought of in Germany, but is also of longer duration. For near relations it continues an entire year; even for very distant relations, or
I have before remarked, that the Irish Catholics are now more powerful and wealthy, and the Protestants more liberal. This is undoubtedly true, inasmuch as the liberal and tolerant Protestant party was never so great as now; and never, since the times of Cromwell and William III., were the Catholics in so prosperous a state as at present. I had, however, frequent occasion to remark that they still sometimes stand in their old relative positions. I was once recommended not to take off my hat so often, as that was only done by the poor Catholics; and in Cork I lodged at an
Whilst recognising the beneficial influence of the temperance movement on the passions and violence of the people, we must not at the same time imagine that every thing is already accomplished. This will be clearly exemplified by the relation of a remarkable deed of violence, which was perpetrated in true Irish style, a very short time before my arrival in Cork. A trader, already engaged in business, had entered into partnership with another individual; but finding that they could not agree, a separation was decided upon. Each party was anxious to buy the other out, and retain possession of the shop. As, however, no satisfactory agreement could be made on the subject, (and the arrangement of such matters by process of law is very tedious in Ireland,) one of them collected a party of his friends, who, armed with shillelaghs, (the terrible Irish cudgel,) attacked and stormed his opponent in his shop. The latter was not altogether unprepared, and stoutly defended himself; but the attacking party was too powerful, and the shop fell into their possession. Only ONE man was killed in this affair! But such is the mode by which people in Ireland sometimes obtain possession, even at the present day.