It would be tedious to repeat the reasoning by which Hamilton, following in the steps of the French geologists, Desmarest and Faujas de St. Fond, establishes the volcanic origin of the basalt. It is true, he assumes the position of an impartial narrator, and brings forward at considerable length the objections which had been urged against this theory, but only to show that each one of them admits of a full and complete answer. Thus he states that the absence of volcanic cones does not embarrass the advocates of the system: "According to them, the basaltes has been formed under the earth itself and within the bowels of those very mountains where it could never have been exposed to view until, by length of time or some violent shock of nature, the incumbent mass must have undergone a very considerable alteration, such as should go near to destroy every exterior volcanic feature. In support of this, it may be observed that the promontories of Antrim do yet bear very evident marks of some violent convulsion, which has left them standing in their present abrupt situation, and that the Island of Raghery and some of the western isles of Scotland do really appear like the surviving fragments of a country, great part of which might have been buried in the ocean."[115]
We thus see that Hamilton clearly perceived that great changes, sufficient to sweep away lofty mountains, had taken place since those old lava streams had flowed over the land. It is true that science has advanced since his day with gigantic strides. Some things which he regarded as doubtful have become certain, and others which he regarded as certain have become doubtful, yet I trust that the preceding extracts will show that his account of the basaltic rocks of Antrim may still be read with interest and profit.
As an antiquarian, Hamilton touches on the evidences of early culture in Ireland. He mentions the large number of exquisitely wrought gold ornaments found in the bogs, and translates for us a poem of St. Donatus, which, although doubtless a fancy sketch, shows the reputation enjoyed by the island in the ninth century.
"Far westward lies an isle of ancient fame
By nature bless'd, and Scotia is her name,
An island rich—exhaustless is her store
Of veiny silver and of golden ore;
Her fruitful soil for ever teems with wealth,
With gems her waters, and her air with health.
Her verdant fields with milk and honey flow,
Her woolly fleeces vie with virgin snow;
Her waving furrows float with bearded corn,
And arms and arts her envy'd sons adorn.
No savage bear with lawless fury roves,
No rav'ning lion thro' her sacred groves;
No poison there infects, no scaly snake
Creeps through the grass, nor frog annoys the lake.
An island worthy of its pious race,
In war triumphant, and unmatch'd in peace."[116]
In referring to the doctrines and practices of the ancient Irish Church, Hamilton enters on the field of controversy. It shows how widely his book was known when we find the Giornale Ecclesiastico of Rome taking exception to some of his views. This criticism led to the insertion in the second edition of the work, of a letter[117] dealing more fully with ecclesiastical matters. The reasoning, even when supported by the high authority of Archbishop Ussher, may possibly fail to convince us of the identity of the Church of St. Patrick and St. Columba with the Church of the Reformation; but we shall find abundant proof of the vigour and independence which characterized not only the early monks, but the Irish schoolmen of the Middle Ages.
Before this letter was published, Hamilton had accepted the living of Clondevaddock in Donegal, and had taken up his abode amid the wild but beautiful scenery surrounding Mulroy Bay. Here he expected to spend a tranquil life, watching over the education of his large family, and combining with his clerical duties the pursuit of science and literature. In a favourable situation for observing variations of temperature and the action of rain, wind, and tide, he pursued the investigation of a subject which had already engaged his attention before leaving Dublin. In a memoir[118] published after his death he suggests that the cutting down of the forests may have affected a sensible change in the climate of Ireland, and gives several instances of the encroachment of the sea sand on fertile and inhabited land. Perhaps the most striking is that of the town of Bannow in Wexford. It was a flourishing borough in the early part of the seventeenth century, while in his day the site was marked only by a few ruins, appearing above heaps of barren sand, and where at the time of an election a fallen chimney was used as the council table of that ancient and loyal corporation.
When we read the closing pages of this paper it is difficult to believe that troubled times were so near at hand; and even when he wrote his "Letters on the French Revolution," Hamilton could not have foreseen that he was soon to fall before the same spirit of wild vengeance, which claimed so many noble victims on the banks of the Seine and the Loire.
He acted as magistrate as well as clergyman, and during nearly seven years he was treated with respect and confidence by the people among whom he lived. No doubt the majority of them did not regard him as their pastor, but they appreciated his efforts for their temporal welfare; we are told that the country was advancing in industry and prosperity, and remained tranquil when other parts of Ulster were greatly disturbed. At last, however, the revolutionary wave reached this remote district, and a trivial incident inflamed the minds of the inhabitants against Dr. Hamilton.
On Christmas night, 1796, while the memorable storm which in the south drove the French fleet from Bantry Bay was at its height, a brig, laden with wine from Oporto, was shipwrecked on the coast of Fanet, not far from Dr. Hamilton's dwelling. In those days the peasantry regarded whatever was brought to them by the sea as lawful booty, and were little disposed to brook the interference of magistrate or clergyman. We are told "that Dr. Hamilton's active exertions on this melancholy occasion gave rise to feelings of animosity on the part of some of his parishioners." This animosity was fomented by popular agitators. A stormy period ensued. One evening a band of insurgents surrounded the parsonage demanding the release of some prisoners, and for more than twenty-four hours the house was closely besieged. Two of the servants made their way with difficulty to the beach, hoping to escape by sea and bring succour from Derry, but they found holes had been bored in the boats, which rendered them unserviceable. Dr. Hamilton acted with much courage and coolness. He refused to accede to the demands of his assailants, saying he was not to be intimidated by men acting in open violation of the laws; at the same time, by repressing the ardour of the guard of soldiers, he showed his anxiety to prevent bloodshed. In company with a naval officer, he undertook the perilous task of passing in disguise through the rebel cordon, and returned with a body of militia. On seeing this reinforcement, the peasantry lost courage, and, throwing away their arms, dispersed quickly to their homes, so that the victory was achieved without loss of life.
The country now became apparently more tranquil, and in early spring Dr. Hamilton paid a visit to the Bishop of the diocese at Raphoe. He was returning to his parish, when the roughness of the weather delayed his crossing Lough Swilly, and he turned aside to see a brother clergyman near Fahan. He was easily prevailed upon to pass the night in the hospitable rectory of Sharon, and no doubt the visit of an old college friend was hailed with delight by the crippled Dr. Waller, whose infirmities obliged him to lead a secluded life. Probably the conversation turned on the state of the country; Dr. Waller, his wife, and her niece would inquire about the perils from which their guest had recently escaped. Perhaps they would congratulate themselves on the security of their neighbourhood compared with the wilder parts of Donegal. Suddenly the tramp of a band of men was heard. It is said that Dr. Hamilton's quick ear first caught the sound, and knew it to be his death-knell; but he was not the only victim—his hostess fell before him. Let us hear the story of that terrible tragedy as it was reported to the Irish House of Commons. Speaking on March 6, 1797, four days after the event, Dr. Brown said: