The country fairs of Ireland, though of the same genus, were of a different species; and there were great varieties among that species—according to the habits, customs, and manners of the several provinces, counties, or parishes, wherein they were held. The southern, eastern, and western fairs had considerable similitude to each other; but the northern, if I may apply exaggerated epithets, could boast more rogues, while at the former the preponderance was of madmen. The southerns certainly loved fighting vastly better, and after they had done were vastly less vindictive than the northern descendants of the Caledonians.[[30]]
[30]. I do not think that the southern and western Irish have, or ever will have, any ardent brotherly affection for their northern fellow-countrymen (exclusive of differences in religion). The former descended direct from the aboriginals of the land; the latter are deduced from Scotch colonists, and those not of the very best occupations or character either.
An anecdote told of Sir Hercules Langreish and Mr. Dundas is illustrative of this observation, and was one of our standing jokes, when Ireland existed as a nation.
Mr. Dundas, himself a keen sarcastic man, who loved his bottle nearly as well as Sir Hercules, invited the baronet to a grand dinner in London, where the wine circulated freely, and wit kept pace with it. Mr. Dundas, wishing to procure a laugh at Sir Hercules, said:—
“Why, Sir Hercules, is it true that we Scotch formerly transported all our criminals and felons to Ireland?”
“I dare say,” replied Sir Hercules; “but did you ever hear, Mr. Dundas, of any of your countrymen returning to Scotland from transportation?”
At country fairs, the feasting and drinking were still more boisterous—what they call obstropulous in Ireland; but being generally held in towns, there was less character exhibited, and consequently less food for observation to spectators. The fighting, too, was of a different nature, and far more serious than at Donnybrook. I will cite a fair that I seldom missed attending for several years, solely in order to see the fight which was sure to conclude it. It was called the fair of Dysart, held in a beautiful country in the valley below the green Timahoe hills, and close to one of the most interesting and beautiful of Irish ruins, the rock of Donnamase, where, in ancient times, sword-duels were fought, as I have heretofore mentioned. Cromwell battered it, and slaughtered the warders of the O’Moores, who held their hereditary fortress while they had an arm to defend it.
To this fair resorted sundry factions—as they were termed; a faction consisting of one of two parishes, baronies, or town-lands, that were very good friends in small parties or individually, but had a prescriptive deadly hatred to each other at all great meetings, fairs, returns from alehouses, &c. At races or hurlings, where gentlemen presided, no symptoms of animosity were apparent.