Now, if they were intended as beacons or belfries, would it not be the most wasteful expenditure of time and wealth to erect two of them together on almost the same spot? And when I mention expenditure, perhaps I may be allowed, incidentally, to observe, that, of all species of architecture, this particular form, as it is the most durable, so is it also the most difficult and the most costly.
Need I name the sum of money which Nelson’s monument has cost in modern times? or that imperfect testimonial in the Phœnix Park which commemorates the glories of the hero of Waterloo. No; but I will mention what Herodotus tells us was the purport of an inscription upon one of the pyramids of Egypt, the form of some of which, be it known, was not very dissimilar to our Irish pyramids, while their intent and object were more congenial; viz. that no less a sum than 1600 talents of silver, or about £400,000 of our money, had been expended upon radishes, onions, and garlic alone, for 360,000 men, occupied for twenty years in bringing that stupendous fabric, that combined instrument of religion and science, to completion!
Our Round Towers, we may well conceive, must have been attended, at the early period of their erection, with comparatively similar expense: and assuredly, the motive which could suggest such an outlay must have been one of corresponding import, of the most vital, paramount, and absorbing consideration.
Would the receptacles for a bell be of such moment? And that, too, whilst the churches, to which, of course, they must have appertained, were thought worthy of no better materials than temporary hurdles, and so leave behind them no vestiges of their local site,—no evidence or trace of their ever having existed! And, indeed, how could they?—for existence they never had, except in the creative imagination of our hypothetical antiquaries.
Ruins, it is true, of chapels and dilapidated cathedrals are frequently found in the vicinity of our Round Towers; but these betray in their materials and architecture the stamp of a later age, having been founded by missionaries of the early Christian Church, and purposely thus collocated—contiguous to edifices long before hallowed by a religious use—to at once conciliate the prejudices of those whom they would fain persuade, and divert their adoration to a more purified worship.
And yet, upon this single circumstance of proximity to ecclesiastical dilapidations—coupled with the bas-relief of a crucifix which presents itself over the door of the Budhist temple of Donoghmore in Ireland, and that of Brechin in Scotland—have the deniers of the antiquity of those venerable memorials raised that superstructure of historical imposture, which, please God, I promise them, will soon crumble round their ears before the indignant effulgence of regenerated veracity.
It might be sufficient for this purpose, perhaps, to tell them that similar ruins of early Christian churches are to be met with abundantly in the neighbourhood of Cromleachs and Mithratic caves all through the island; and that they might as well, from this vicinity, infer that those two other vestiges of heathenish adoration were contrived by our early Christians as appendages to the chapels, as they would fain make out—by precisely the same mode of inference—that the Round Towers had been!
But this would not suit; they could find no ascription associated with Christianity which cave or cromleach could subserve; and thus have the poor missionaries escaped the cumbrous imputation of having those colossal pagan slabs and those astounding gentile excavations affiliated upon them.
Not so fortunate the Towers. After ransacking the whole catalogue of available applications appertaining to the order of monastic institutions with which to Siamise those temples, Montmorency has at last hit upon the noble and dignified department of a “dungeon-keep” or “lock-up!” as the sole use and intention of their original erection!
As I intend, however, to unravel this fallacy in its proper quarter, I shall resume, for the present, the thread of my discourse.