Rebecca Harding Davis.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
IRISH SOCIETY IN THE LAST CENTURY.
Nations as well as individuals have the defects of their qualities, and the Irish race has its faults as well as its virtues; but it will be conceded on all sides that the humdrum is not one of its attributes. During the eighteenth century the social state of Ireland was peculiarly anomalous. The penal laws were in full force for the most of that time. The great families, Irish or Norman—the latter having long before become Hibernis ipsis Hiberniores—had either conformed to the ruling faith or had betaken themselves to more friendly shores, or, having lost their estates by confiscation or treachery, had become confounded with the oppressed and suffering multitude. The Irish nation was practically divided into a "Protestant garrison" and a pariah caste. It would have been strange, therefore, if the faults incident to their position had not been developed in each of these classes. And yet when the beautiful and accomplished Mrs. Pendarves visited the island in 1731 she found social life in the capital worthy of commendation. The generality of the people, she said, were much the same as in England—a mixture of good and bad. All she met behaved themselves very decently according to their rank. "Now and then," she adds, "an oddity breaks out, but none so extraordinary but that I could match them in England. There is a heartiness among them that is more like Cornwall than any I have known, and great sociableness." Cornwall, it must be remembered, is largely Celtic. She writes, again, that she has too much gratitude to find fault where she was treated kindly, even if there were room for it, but declares that she was never in a place that more deservedly claimed her good word than Ireland.
It was to the famous earl of Strafford that the viceregal court first owed its brilliancy. When he came to Dublin as lord deputy he found the Castle falling to ruins. He had it restored, and lived there in the manner described by a traveled eye-witness, who says that a most splendid court was kept there, and that he had seen nothing like it in Christendom except that of the viceroy of Naples. In one point of grandeur the lord deputy went beyond the Neapolitan, for he could confer honors and dub knights, which that viceroy could not do, or indeed any other he knew of. This splendor was interrupted by the civil wars, but burst forth anew under the viceroyalty of the great duke of Ormond. Matters seem then to have been somewhat irregularly managed. It was a time of great politico-religions excitement, and "Papists" were forbidden to have residences in Dublin. Nevertheless, complaints were made that several Catholic nobles and gentlemen, among whom were Colonel Talbot and the earl of Clancarty, not only took houses, but were received at the Castle, where they joined the duke and the earl of Arran at play, which was often continued till three o'clock in the morning. It was said that they then passed through the gates with their coaches, and drew upon the guard if they attempted to stop them. This good-fellowship did not serve to cement a very close friendship between the parties, for Colonel Talbot was afterward thrown into the Tower on the charge of attempting the duke's life. He was soon freed from captivity and loaded with favors by James II., who made him duke of Tyrconnel and lord lieutenant of Ireland.
When Mrs. Pendarves (née Mary Granville) paid her first visit to Ireland, all was at least outwardly quiet. The Revolution was long past, and the House of Hanover was firmly seated on the throne. The utmost magnificence was displayed by the court at Dublin, and the lady's letters are filled with descriptions of every kind of gayety. The witty dean of St. Patrick's, though nearing the melancholy close of his career, was still exciting by turns the wonder, the amusement and the gratitude of the Irish public. In spite of much that would now be deemed very inconsistent with his calling, Swift had a firm practical belief in the truths he was bound to teach, and was scrupulously careful in the discharge of his public duties. Mrs. Pendarves, who some years later became the wife of Swift's friend, Dr. Delany, a celebrated preacher and afterward dean of Down, was much attracted by the many virtues hidden under the apparent misanthropy of this wonderful man, and kept up a correspondence with him until his intellect failed. Her relative, Lord Carteret, had been the dean's great friend long before he was sent to Ireland as viceroy. A postscript which he added to one of his letters written in 1737 shows what he thought of Swift as a patriot. It ran thus: "When people ask me how I governed Ireland, I say that I pleased Dr. Swift. 'Quæsitam meritis sume superbiam.'" Nevertheless, Swift was too uncompromising to be trusted with power, even by Carteret. He wished very much to be made a trustee of the linen manufactory or a justice of the peace, and complained that he was refused because it was well known he would not job or suffer abuses to pass, though he might be of service to the public in both capacities; "but if he were a worthless member of Parliament or a bishop who would vote for the court and betray his country," then his request would be readily granted. Lord Carteret replied: "What you say is literally true, and therefore you must excuse me." When he asked the archbishop of Cashel and other trustees of the linen manufacture why they would not elect him, the archbishop answered that "he was too sharp a razor, and would cut them all."
Lord Carteret was a true courtier, and managed to keep fairly with both parties. He had much wit and readiness, and parried the attacks of Swift with such dexterity that on one occasion, the latter exclaimed, "What, in God's name! do you do here? Get back to your own country, and send us our boobies again." When we recollect that in London Swift enjoyed the society of the first literary characters of the day, we need not wonder that he looked on a residence in Ireland as a sort of banishment, and yet he did not fail to use every opportunity of doing good in private and in public. He gave half his annual income to decayed families, and kept five hundred pounds in hand for the sole service of the industrious poor, which he lent out in five pounds at a time, and took payment back by installments of two shillings—of course without interest. He was thus the means of helping them to help themselves, a species of charity which was not then so well understood as it is now in process of becoming. His indignation at the oppressive conduct of the English government in destroying Irish trade and manufactures vented itself in many ways. "Do not the corruptions and villainies of men eat your flesh and exhaust your spirits?" said he to his friend Dr. Delany; and in another burst of the same sæva indignatio he exclaimed, on hearing some one spoken of as a "fine old gentleman," "What! have you yet to learn that there is no such thing as a fine old gentleman? If the man you speak of had either a mind or a body worth a farthing, they would have worn him out long ago."
An incidental notice of the state of Irish trade at that date is afforded in a letter of Mrs. Delany's to a friend in England: "They make mighty good gloves here, but I shall not be able to send you any: they are prohibited." Mrs. Delany was herself much interested for the people, and brought Irish poplins into fashion at the viceregal court. She lost no opportunity of expressing her liking for the tone of Irish society. When herself residing in England she writes to her sister, Ann Granville, afterward Mrs. Dewes, expressing a wish that they could both be conveniently transported to Ireland for one year, that no place would suit her sister's taste so well, and that "the good-humor and conversableness of the people would please her extremely." This lady's descriptions of life in the country parts of Ireland are perhaps more interesting than even her experiences in the capital. At one time she describes her entertainment after a picnic in a thatched house which she calls a "cabin," and remarks that the people did not seem solicitous of having good dwellings or more furniture than was absolutely necessary—hardly so much—but they made it up in eating and drinking; adding that no people could be more hospitable or obliging, and that there was not only great abundance, but "great order and neatness." There is, unfortunately, a reverse to the medal. She remarks that they cut down all their trees instead of preserving them; that the poverty of the people as she passed through the country "made her heart ache," as she never saw a greater appearance of misery; and that they lived in great extremes, either profusely or wretchedly. The same testimony is borne by all who knew the state of Ireland at that time.