John and Betty's Irish history visit

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Book ..W (,7

Gopyiight N? JIo_

Foreword

For the benefit of those who first become acquainted with John and Betty and their friends during their “ Irish History Visit,’ ’ it may be well to explain how they came to make the trip in the way they did.

Several years earlier, John and Betty’s mother was puzzling over the most delightful plan for her children’s summer vacation. She then happened to remember certain tedious days when she herself had pored over school histories with their monotonous pages of facts and dates; she had always wished that she could travel in the countries where famous kings and peoples had lived, and fought their long succession of battles. To become familiar with backgrounds, even as they appear to-day, would surely make it vastly easier to remember the whys and wherefores of events.

Suddenly she wondered whether John and Betty would like to pass their summer in traveling, in visiting a country’s historic spots and thus getting its story fixed in their minds. John hailed her plan with shouts of approval, and Betty began that very evening to make lists of the places she particularly wanted to see.

FOREWORD

Thus it was that John and Betty spent their holidays in England. Their mother being unable to leave home, the children made the journey in charge of friends who saw them safely in care of Mrs. Pitt, a Scotch lady and an old friend, who had long lived in England. With her, and her son and daughter, Philip and Barbara, John and Betty saw London and its vicinity, the Shakespeare country, one or two lovely cathedral towns, Robin Hood’s Sherwood Forest, and a glimpse of southern Devonshire.

It was not surprising that they should want to see Scotland, and that another trip should be arranged with Mrs. Pitt, Philip, and Barbara. Mrs. Pitt, of course, enjoyed showing them her native Scotland, and she filled the days so full that another three months flew by. Edinburgh was explored, and other fine old towns; excursions were made through the lakes, along the Caledonian Canal, to castles and quaint towns, and far north to the wild Isle of Skye; they saw Walter Scott’s home and the scenes of many of his poems and Waverley novels.

Before the Scotch summer was over, Mrs. Pitt had promised to take her party to Ireland, adding an “ Irish History Visit ” to the “ English ” and the “ Scotch ” trips. Although familiar in many respects, they yet found Ireland

FOREWORD very individual. It is less familiar to tourists, and one feels a bit of an explorer in some distant hamlets of the west country. One hears wonderful tales of Ireland in the days when both England and Scotland were still barbaric ; of its good saints and cultured priests, its education, religion, and picturesque civilization. One listens to tales of strange happenings and of unearthly creatures, ghosts, banshees, spirits, and fairies. To the very day on which our party left Ireland, they hoped to spy a leprehaun, or fairy cobbler, mending a tiny shoe under a clump of shamrock. The children never saw him, but perhaps you may, if your eyes are very sharp and your attention never flags. For, in Ireland, a fairy is always just around the corner.

Margaret Williamson.

West Newton, Mass.,

XX. The First Day in Ireland

In Dublin ......

A Trip to ITowth

More About Dublin ....

Motoring to Drogheda and the

Boyne Valley

In County Wicklow ....

Between Two Imperial Hotels Seeing Cork and Blarney Castle . Seeing Youghal and the River

Blackwater

In the Showery South of Ireland .

Seeing Killarney

From Lonely Valentia to Busy

Limerick

A Trio of Castles

Athlone, “ The Deserted Village,”

and Galway

In the Far West

In the “ Gentle Country,” with “ The Good People ” .

Traveling Towards the North .

The Far North and Its Legends . In and Near Belfast ....

Getting Acquainted with St. Patrick

PAGE

ILLUSTRATIONS

“ I LIKE THE ROUND TOWERS BETTER THAN ANYTHING

else in Ireland ” (Page 84) . . . Frontispiece ^

FACING

PAGE

They took an outside-car back to the station . 18 v

V

“ Trinity College has always played a large part

in political affairs ” 26 v

“ They fought all along the route from Clontarf

AS FAR INTO THE PRESENT CITY AS SACKVILLE

Street” 36

The polite regions of Fitzwilliam and Merrion Squares, where at least the doorplates receive

A BRIGHTER POLISH 58

John found the fascinating clay-pipe factory . 66 ^

Under two ancient Saxon arches . . . . 80

“ Cashel was the home of the ancient kings of

Munster ” 94^

“ It’s convenient when it rains, but it is difficult

TO STAY IN, ESPECIALLY GOING UP HILL ” . . . 106

“ SHURE, V HEV YEZ NEVER HEARD A PERSON TALK,

ILLUSTRATIONS

FACING

PAGE

“ I WANTED TO SEE MYRTLE GROVE ALMOST MORE THAN

ANYTHING ELSE ”

122 ''

Dropped down in any little ravine, or overhanging A RUSHING STREAM, THESE THATCHED MUD HUTS

134 •

And, of course, they could not omit Muckross Abbey • •«•••••••

The platform at Farranfore station

Here was a village to creep into one’s heart .

“ The only moated grange in Ireland,” said Betty.

“ Doesn’t that sound like a book ? ” .

“ Leap has the ghosts, but we have the moat ” .

“It’s very dark and big, but it’s a real castle, isn’t it ? ”

And yet, the village had its great day when the King and Queen went up that quarry road .

Drumcliff, with its Celtic cross ....

Bishopsgate has curious insignia carved over the

DOORS, AND THE KEYSTONE OF THE ARCH IS A MAN’S

HEAD

Every one sits in this chair and silently makes

HIS WISH

The little town itself has great charms

256 ^

Betty found a clump of tiny shamrock in the very

shadow of St. Patrick’s tomb ....

Chapter One The First Day In Ireland

“When the glass is up to thirty,

Be sure the weather will be dirty.

When the glass is high, oh, very !

There’ll be rain in Cork and Kerry.

When the glass is low, 0 Lork !

There’ll be rain in Kerry and Cork ! 99

Of course every one expected that it would rain. The gray, chilly morning was no surprise. When the great ocean liner stopped just outside Queenstown Harbor, the sea was running so high as to tumble the tender about in an alarming manner ; and when the passengers stood upon its slippery deck, surrounded by piles of trunks, they could see little of Ireland. A heavy mist hung low over high bluffs topped by green-checkered fields and tiny white farmhouses.

John jerked his cap down over his eyes and Betty was holding on her hat with both hands.

“ I keep seeing something bright yellow, all 13 up and down the cliffs,’ ’ she said. “ What is it? Oh, perhaps it’s gorse! Do you think so?”

“ Yes, probably. I’ve heard it’s very beautiful in the early spring. See, what masses of it there are! ” exclaimed Betty’s mother.

They went into the stuffy cabin and peered through cloudy window-panes at Spanish Cove, an inner harbor into which Francis Drake ran one of his ships to evade the pursuing Armada.

“ Hello! Was that outfit over here, too? ” asked John.

They had scarcely time to realize that they were in huge Queenstown Harbor, “ capable of sheltering Great Britain’s entire navy,” when the pier was sighted with the steep town piled behind.

On the pier were women with dark shawls drawn protectingly over their heads and across their mouths; close by were shaggy donkeys hitched to dilapidated carts, and beyond, outside-cars, with their shouting, gesticulating drivers. Betty and her brother had all along been feeling their superior knowledge of foreign affairs, circumstances having kept their mother in America while they had visited both England and Scotland; but neither John nor Betty had ever seen a real jaunting-car, at least not on its native soil.

John wanted to ride on one as soon as they i5 and their luggage had escaped the custom official, but his mother gently insisted upon taking the waiting train for Cork.

“ You know we must push on to Dublin this afternoon,” she said; “Mrs. Pitt, Barbara, and Philip hope to find us there when they arrive from England to-night.”

It is only a half-hour’s ride to Cork, through pleasant farming country very much like England. The train often skirts the river Lee, near which are country houses, villas, and an occasional castle. Legend says that a lady built the castle at Monkstown at the cost of one groat, accomplishing this by supplying the workmen with food and other necessaries which she bought at wholesale. When she balanced her accounts her profit had paid all expenses except fourpence. Thus she pleased her absent lord, who loved economy.

“ Should think he’d have kept on going to war! ” chuckled John.

Another castle, called Blackrock, is quite modern, though the spot is claimed to be that from which William Penn set out for America.

Upon leaving the station at Cork they saw more shawled women, donkey-carts, and outside-cars; a few beggars followed them, and barefooted boys tried to sell them newspapers. Ignoring them all, they at last succeeded in pushing their way to a clanging tramcar.

The tram’s speed was by no means what might have been expected from the great noise of its gong. Cork is a city, but hardly in the American sense of the word. There no one hurries; all things move in leisurely fashion, except, perhaps, a jaunting-car, here and there, whose driver and passenger boisterously urge the horse to high speed because they love jolting over rough stones and lurching around corners. Every one seems to have time to loiter on the bridges and watch the boats ; to stroll along the quays by the Lee ; to shop in Patrick Street, or, at least, to examine the contents of its shop windows.

The morning’s mist had vanished and the sun shone upon Cork and the hills which encircle it — hills showing the first green of spring. Even the beggars appeared contented in their sunny corners. Everything seemed to smile upon John and Betty, and their mother, speaking those words of Irish welcome, Cead-milefdilte: a hundred thousand welcomes.

‘ 6 I wonder what places we go through on our way,” remarked Betty, as they were lunching at the Imperial Hotel.

“ I really don’t know,” her mother confessed, laughing. “ I’m like that person in Jane Barlow’s rhyme:

“‘“An’ there,” sez I to meself, “we’re goin’ wherever we go,

But where we’ll be whin we git there, it’s never a know I’ll know.” ’ ”

“ Except Dublin,” said John; “ you know we’ll be there at seven o’clock.”

“ Perhaps; but every one says that Irish trains are horribly uncertain ! ’ ’

They took an outside-car back to the station, John occupying one of the side seats while Betty and her mother had the other.

“ It’s so hard to get on! ” complained Betty’s mother, “ and even harder to stay on afterwards. J ohn, do tell him to drive slowly ! Goodness! the seat swings, doesn’t it? ”

Betty and her mother were frantically clinging to the low rail of the driver’s seat, but John’s bearing was altogether admirable. Scorning to steady himself, he sat bolt upright, with arms folded and an expression of vast satisfaction on his face.

“ Should think I’d done it all my life! ” he cried. “ Say, Mother, isn’t it bully? ”

“ I feel like curling my feet up under me for fear somebody’ll grab them,” exclaimed Betty.

When they reached the station, John and Betty jumped to the ground, and their mother, groping about for the step, finally managed to get her heel upon it, and so slide down. Thus their first jaunting-car drive ended without mishap.

The railroad from Cork to Dublin runs for many miles between high banks, disappointing travelers who want to see the country. The banks disappear sometimes, however, disclosing green fields, square potato patches, and overgrown hedges, behind which hide whitewashed cottages.

4 4 They’ve only one window and a door,” observed John, as the train hurried past two or three huddled cottages. 44 See, Betty, how the doors are cut in two. Folks leave the bottom part closed.”

44 Probably to keep out the livestock,” suggested their mother.

4 4 Do animals go in their houses ? ’ 9

44 I should say they did! Saw a pig and a lot of chickens walking out of one just a little way back! ” this from John.

44 That’s true enough. Shall I tell you children the German tourist’s exaggerated account of what he saw come out of a typical hut of the west country, between six and nine o’clock in the morning? It was something like this : three geese, eight goslings, six hens, fifteen chickens, two pigs, two cows, two barefooted girls, one man leading a horse, three small children with school bags, and one woman leading a donkey loaded with peat-baskets.”

44 Mother! I’m sure you made that up! ”

They took an outside-car back to the station. Page 17.

•9

“ No, indeed; but, of course, it never happens nowadays.’ ’

After stopping at two junctions, Maryborough and Portarlington, they came to Kildare, where they saw their first round tower among the trees.

“ Oh, I love it; it’s so tall and straight,” said Betty.

It is not known exactly what these towers were used for, because they were built so very long ago. Some people think the Druids used them in a religious way ; some believe they were lookouts, or places of refuge in times of war. The Irish have many stories about their being built in a single night by the fairies. There are many round towers in Ireland, and one or two have still the original pointed top, which the one at Kildare has lost.

Here John began to chant dramatically the following verse, found in the guide-book:

“‘“Who killed Kildare? who dared Kildare to kill?

I killed Kildare ; and dare kill whom I will .” 1 ”

“ Good for him, whoever he was ! ”

A gentleman in their compartment of the train told Betty about St. Brigit, one of Ireland’s many famous saints, who founded a nunnery at Kildare in 484.

4 1 She was a follower of the great St. Patrick, you know. Here her nuns started an 4 inextinguiskable fire/ which was kept burning for eight hundred years. You’ve heard that Ireland has many holy wells where people go to drink when they are sick? Some people think that good St. Brigit now lives in these wells, helping to cure people, and appearing as 4 a very civil little fish, very pleasant, wagging its tail ’! ”

“ Look out of the window, John!” interrupted his mother, hastily consulting her guide-book. “ This huge field here — it has 5000 acres — must be what they call the Curragh. It has seen military camps and battles, but now it’s a race-course, one of the finest in the whole Kingdom. My, what turf for the horses ! ’ ’

“ When do they race? Could we go? 99 demanded her son excitedly.

His mother did not know, but perhaps they could find out ; they would see.

Soon they began to collect their luggage, for they were nearing Dublin.

“ Well,” said Betty, walking down the platform, past a long line of outside-cars, 4 4 of course, I knew there were jaunting-cars — I’ve seen one at the Hippodrome in New York — but I didn’t think there were so many in Ireland,

or Oh, there’s Barbara! They got here

before we did ! ”

Chapter Two In Dublin

u The seat of this city is of all sides pleasant, comfortable, and wholesome: if you would traverse hills, they are not far off; if champaign ground, it lieth of all parts; if you be delighted with fresh water, the famous river called the Liffey runneth fast by; if you will take a view of the sea, it is at hand.”

The first days of their stay at the big house in Stephen’s Green were miserably cold and rainy. When Betty read the above passage in an old book, she was inclined to believe that too much was claimed for Dublin; and, especially, she wanted to know what “ champaign ” meant.

After John and his sister had seen their mother off for England and the Continent, where she was to join friends, there was little for them to do except unpack, chatter with Philip and Barbara, or read. Betty was glad of the opportunity to study some of the books in the library.

“ Come here, John,” she once called, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “ You must listen to some of these things I’ve found out.

4 First of all, let me tell you’, — that’s how Miss Hall always begins at school, you know — that Dublin has a Gaelic name, the name the real Irish people gave it. They used to spell it D-u-b-h-l-i-n-n, and it means 4 the black pool.’ That’s because this city is built over a great big peat bog, like those we saw on the Isle of Skye last summer, John; and peat makes water brown, you know. Perhaps if it’s very peaty, the water would be almost black. There was a ford over the Liffey River here, too, but it was so muddy that they threw down a lot of wicker hurdles (What are they? Sticks?); then they called it 4 the town of the hurdle ford. ’ There ’s another Gaelic name for that. See it? But this was all very, very long ago, John, even before St. Patrick came.”

Betty was turning to another page, marked by her finger, when John demanded, 44 Yes, but how long ago? Is Dublin old — awfully old — like London and Edinburgh? ”

44 I just guess it is! The book says it was here in 150 a. d., and this is how they know it. 4 Conn of the Hundred Battles ’ had been

beaten by some other king and ”

4 4 Gee ! a hundred ! ’ ’

Overlooking the interruption, Betty went triumphantly on. 4 4 4 King Conn of the Hundred Battles,’ ” she repeated, 44 had to share Ireland, so he drew a straight line from the Atlantic Ocean, over on the west, to the High Street, in Dublin; and that’s how we can tell there was a Dublin then.”

“ What happened next? Oh, let me see, Betty! You’ve had the book forever! ”

“ Brian Boru came next, didn’t he? ” inquired his sister, handing it over a bit unwillingly.

“ Not until those Danes had been here. They kept coming over and grabbing things everywhere, but Brian Boru finally whipped ’em somewhere — at a place called Clontarf, I think. You bet they never came again! They must have been the ones who tied matches to some swallows’ tails when they wanted to burn the thatched roofs at Dublin. Wonder how they caught enough ! ’ ’

“ John!” cried prim little Barbara, who had come into the room; “ what do you mean? Fancy! Matches weren’t invented then. Nobody ever used them till — well, just this minute I forget the date, but we ’ve had it in school. ’ ’ Betty snatched the book, her eyes snapping. “ It does say that some early invaders had them,” she retorted. “ English people never will admit that Ireland had anything before they did ! You aren’t fair at all, Barbara ! ” Their little disagreement was instantly forgotten, however, for Mrs. Pitt entered, wearing her hat and coat and pulling on her gloves.

“ It’s going to be a fine afternoon,” she announced jubilantly. “ Yes, we’ll go out immediately, before the sun has a chance to vanish again. Fetch me my umbrella, Philip. Hurry, Barbara; you’ll keep us waiting. ’ ’

The paths in Stephen’s Green Park were still wet, but the grass and trees showed a dainty, fresh green, babies were out with their nurses, and the ducks in the pretty pools were energetic and cheerful. They crossed the park by the diagonal path and entered Grafton Street, Dublin’s Regent Street, now packed with busy shoppers, outside-cars, private carriages and motor-cars. The long line of fashionable shops at last ends where Grafton Street merges into College Green, the starting place of many tram lines. Just opposite is stately Parliament House, a bank until Home Rule, the Irishman’s dream, shall restore it to its original use. To the right is Trinity College.

“ Now, where ’ve I bumped into him before? Sure I’ve knocked against a fellow with a forehead like that ! Teachers always tell you to be sure and notice his forehead ’specially. Who — ? Oh, I know! It’s ‘ old Noll,’ of course! Wrote ‘ The Deserted Village,’ — old guy back from the wars, and all the rest of the bunch! ” John doffed his cap, bowing low before the statue of Oliver Goldsmith, near the entrance of the college which is now so proud of him.

They went through a broad gateway under which are the familiar college notices and bulletins, and came into a large, graveled court, closed in by gray buildings. The place seemed almost deserted; a professor in a black gown mounted a distant flight of steps; over there rode a student on his bicycle ; here one caught sounds of voices from a classroom; in the distance was the rumble of the city streets.

“ Trinity College has always played a large part in political affairs/ ’ said Mrs. Pitt; 4 4 perhaps because it is situated in the midst of the city. It is altogether different from Oxford and Cambridge, with their quiet rivers and sheltered courts.

“ Before Trinity College was founded, a Franciscan monastery stood here,” Mrs. Pitt went on, as they walked towards the Examination Hall; “ so, you see, the place has long been famous for learning. It is said that when Queen Elizabeth desired to establish an Irish professorship at Trinity College, Lord Burleigh protested : ‘ What ! encourage a language more nearly allied to canine barking than to the articulation human! ’ Nevertheless, for a long time the Irish tongue was spoken in the classrooms. Queen Elizabeth wished Trinity to be merely the beginning of an Irish university, but no other colleges have been added from her day to ours.”

A solemn caretaker led them about the Examination Hall, with its portraits of college celebrities, Dean Swift, Edmund Burke, and Queen Elizabeth herself among them.

“ Yez may think it odd, mum,” he said, “ but them as sits near the picter o’ Queen Elizabeth there has never no success with the examinations at all.”

“ I do believe that pointed chin of hers, and the funny ruff, and those sharp little eyes would make me forget all I ever knew,” reflected Betty.

“ Oliver Goldsmith, as a poor boy, is said to have waited on table here,” said Mrs. Pitt, standing in the Dining Hall, with its ancient wainscoting, and its quaint wooden pulpit, which the boys call the 4 4 Egg Cup. ’ ’

“ What’s the ‘ Egg Cup ’ for? ”

“ One of the students always stands there to read a Latin grace before dinner, Betty.”

Of course, they saw the famous library, which is two hundred and forty feet long, containing three hundred thousand books, valuable manuscripts and autographs, and the busts of celebrated men.

“ There’s only one thing that you need to see,” said Mrs. Pitt — “ the Book of Kells, most

“Trinity College has always played a large part in political affairs.” — Page 25.

wonderful of all ancient illuminated books. Here it is.”

As they bent over the beautiful pages of the open book, one of which the authorities turn each day, she told them that the best of this illuminating was done by the monks who lived between the ninth and twelfth centuries. There were no other books then, for it was before the time of printing; books such as this were so costly that they were only to he found in the libraries of monasteries, of kings, or of great chiefs, and were sometimes even used as kings’ ransoms. The design, workmanship, and color of this Book of Kells are unsurpassed; it may have taken a monk several months to paint each one of its pages.

“ What’s it about! ” asked Betty, drawing the green cloth cover back over the glass case.

“ It’s the four Gospels, written in Latin,” replied Mrs. Pitt.

As they retraced their steps towards the gateway, John remarked that he had not noticed any dormitories or lecture-rooms.

‘ ‘ I knew a chap who lived down near Cork, ’ ’ said Philip ; ‘ ‘ met him two years ago when we went to Ostend, Mother. He said he did all his studying at home, and only came up to Dublin at examination times.”

“ Cinch! Don’t think I’d like it, though.

Bather be with the fellows! Can they do that, Mrs. Pitt, — on the level? ”

“ Yes, Trinity admits non-resident students who are not required to attend lectures ; this explains the presence of so few lecture-rooms and dormitories. Now I want my tea, and I remember a nice shop near here.”

While they rested and drank their tea, Mrs. Pitt told them stories of one of the former professors of Trinity, Doctor “ Jacky ” Barrett, a most curious old character.

“ He was a learned Hebrew scholar and so devoted to the College and to his duties there that, it is said, he seldom went outside the gates. On one famous occasion he saw some sheep in a field, and, upon being told what they were, was much excited at seeing ‘ live mutton . 9 But what I like best is his habit of prefacing all his remarks with the question, ‘ Do you see me now? 9 A certain Mr. LeFanu, who was a student here seventy-five years ago, gives some delightful anecdotes of Doctor Barrett in a book which I have with me. I’ll read you one little paragraph. This illustrates his miserly habits :

“ 1 He (Doctor Barrett) dined at Commons; his only other meal was his breakfast, consisting of a penny loaf and a halfpennyworth of milk. Every morning he handed a halfpenny to the old woman who looked after his rooms, and sent her out to buy the milk. One frosty morning she slipped, fell, and broke her leg. She was taken to a hospital, and for once Barrett ventured beyond the College precincts and went to see her. “ Well, Mary,” he said to her, “ do you see me now, I suppose the jug is broken, but where is the halfpenny? ” ’ ”

Amid the laughter which follower, Mrs. Pitt assured them that they should read that book.

“ Mr. LeFanu also describes the 4 Charleys/ or city watchmen, of those days,” she said. “ They wore long, gray coats with capes, lowcrowned hats, and were armed with sharppointed pikes; the < Charleys ’ were usually feeble and old, and the college boys delighted to play tricks on them, to rob them of the rattles they carried, or, when caught asleep, to turn them face to the ground in their sentryboxes. It was good sport. But we must go if we’re to see anything more this afternoon! ”

In the center of College Green stands an equestrian statue of King William III. Mrs. Pitt and the others dodged the trams and paused for a moment, looking up at it.

“ The Trinity boys tormented the poor king horribly,” observed Mrs. Pitt; “ he afforded them almost as much enjoyment as the old ‘ Charleys.’ The statue was made by Grinling Gibbons, who did so much wood-carving, you remember, and it was erected in 1701, when this king was in high favor with the political party just then in power. Once every year there was a parade around the statue ; muskets were fired, and there were grand celebrations. The J acobites, being still faithful to the cause of the Stuart kings, were obliged to retaliate by secret attacks, under cover of darkness. The Trinity

boys were most active; they My word!

That motor almost touched you, Barbara ! Take care ! ’ ’

“ What did the Trinity fellows do, Mrs. Pitt? ” persisted John, chuckling in anticipation.

“ Well, they pretended to be angry because the statue turns its back to their college. They occasionally daubed it all over with mud, or carried away its sword, or set a second man up behind King William, a man made of straw.”

John was immensely pleased by these stories, and reminded Mrs. Pitt of how the Harvard boys had painted red old John Harvard’s statue at Cambridge, Massachusetts.

“ I saw it! ” he cried, “ and it was corking! ” But Betty quite took the wind out of his sails by insisting that it had happened long before J ohn was born.

And so they went on, down a narrow street which led to the southern bank of the river. Little shipping is now seen in this part of the Liffey, and people only frequent the quays when they want a pleasant walk or when they have business at the dingy shops where secondhand books, prints, and curios are to be found. Both hanks of the river are lined with tall houses, often possessing beautiful doorways, which suggest their once aristocratic occupants ; the dark river is crossed by picturesque bridges, and the whole view is dominated by the huge dome of the Four Courts, where the King’s laws are enforced. To walk there at sunset is delightful.