One Irish Summer

by William Eleroy Curtis

XXIX
LIMERICK, ASKEATON, AND ADARE

Limerick looks like a medieval city, and it is one of the oldest in Ireland. There is an old tower that was built seven centuries ago, and portions of walls forty feet high and thirty-six feet thick which date back to the time of King John in the twelfth century. The castle is one of the finest Norman fortresses yet remaining in the kingdom and overlooks the River Shannon in a most formidable manner. The ancient gate is carefully retained and there is a bridge across the river approaching it that might have been built by the Romans. The Shannon is a good deal of a river, and has been walled in with cut stone and wide quays that are equipped with modern machinery for loading and unloading vessels, although there isn’t much commerce. Occasionally a steamer loaded with coal arrives, but there is no regular traffic, and we saw a big four-masted bark discharging a cargo of wheat that was brought all the way around Cape Horn from California and will be ground up in the mills of Limerick, because it is cheaper to bring it that distance than to raise wheat on the farms in that vicinity. It seems incredible, because there is so much land given up to pastures that might be plowed and sowed with grain. We rode about Limerick County in an automobile for several days and didn’t see a wheat field,—not one,—although there are several flour mills in the immediate neighborhood. In two grocery stores where I inquired they told me that they handled American flour or flour from American wheat almost exclusively, and that they were selling a good deal of bacon from the Chicago packing-houses, which also seems strange, because Limerick bacon is supposed to be the best in the world, and three big establishments, employing several hundred men, do nothing but cure bacon and hams. Each slaughters about ten thousand hogs a week, which doesn’t seem a very large business in comparison with that of the packing-houses of Chicago, Omaha, and Kansas City, but there it is something to brag about. Limerick bacon brings the highest price in the London market and sells at three or four cents a pound more than that which is imported from Chicago. In order to realize the difference the people of the city are willing to ship their bacon to England and eat the Chicago product.

Limerick is also the center of a large butter trade and has the biggest condensed milk factory in the kingdom, using the milk of ten thousand cows daily, which is gathered morning and evening by enormous motors that go thundering around the roads like Juggernauts. They look like steam-rollers, and are built the same way with four wheels that have tires more than a foot wide, and they serve a double purpose by rolling the roads daily while they are hauling in the milk. Each of these ponderous vehicles carries a large tank that will hold a hundred gallons of milk and hauls a trailer that carries two tanks of similar size, thus making about three hundred gallons to the load, but it makes noise enough for ten thousand gallons. The big tanks are painted white and the machines are polished like the knockers on the front doors of the Limerick houses. There are three of these machines, which start out at daylight in the morning, and each goes in a different direction, picking up the milk that is left in cans by the farmers at convenient cross-road stations. When the tanks are all filled the Juggernaut comes rumbling into town, making more noise than the railroad train, discharges its load at the condensed milk factory, and then starts out in another direction.

Limerick has a population of about forty thousand, which has been reduced from fifty thousand during the last ten or twelve years by emigration to America; and, as we find it the case everywhere, all the young men who can get money enough to pay their steamship fares are emigrating. Many young women go also, and “the best blood of the country is lost to us,” one of the priests remarked. The city has not increased in numbers for centuries. It has merely held its own, and some historians contend that it had more population five hundred years ago than it has now. It was founded before the beginning of history.

In 1168 lived and reigned Donald O’Brien, the last king of Limerick. He was fifth in descent from Brian Boru, and was among the first to swear allegiance to the Norman invader, King Henry of England, when the latter arrived, permitting an English governor to be placed in possession of the city. But after King Henry returned to England, Donald O’Brien lost no time in renouncing allegiance and declaring his independence. And from that time he fought the English with great energy until his death in 1194, after a reign of twenty-six years of almost continuous conflict. However, King Donald found time and money during the intervals of his wars to erect a splendid old church that still stands and is called St. Mary’s, the Protestant Cathedral of the Church of Ireland. He erected several other churches and monasteries in Limerick County which bear witness to the religious zeal of Donald O’Brien. The ruins at Cashel, which are the most extensive in all Ireland, are reminders of his piety, energy, and generosity in the Christian propaganda. He is supposed to have been buried in St. Mary’s Cathedral, and the most ancient and noteworthy monument in that venerable temple is a brown-stone slab covered with a Celtic cross and inscription that is supposed to be the lid of his coffin. This monument originally stood on the grounds outside the church and was moved inside in 1860.

On the other side of the chapel in which this precious relic is preserved is a monument erected to the memory of the soldiers of the Eighty-fifth Regiment of the King’s Light Infantry who have died in battle. And above it hang the flags which that regiment has carried during the last two hundred years, including the Crimean war, the South African, the war in Spain, the war against Napoleon, and the war for independence in the United States. Upon one of these flags is inscribed the name “Bladensburg,” the battle, or rather skirmish, that was fought a few miles from Washington in 1813, and it was this regiment which entered the city and burned the capitol, then unfinished, the White House, and the navy yard. Gen. Frederick Maunsell, who commanded the regiment at that time, is buried near by.

The old church was restored very carefully between 1879 and 1892 under the direction of the dean, Very Rev. Thomas Bunbury, D.D. The work has been admirably done at an expense of about $50,000, which was contributed by members of the parish and natives of Limerick, who are interested in preserving its antiquities. The present dean is Very Rev. Lucius Henry O’Brien, a son of that famous Irish patriot, William Smith O’Brien, who was sentenced to be hanged, drawn, and quartered for treason in the revolution of 1848, but fortunately escaped that barbarous penalty.

An interesting volume has been written concerning St. Mary’s Cathedral and its history and the curious tombs that are found under its roof. Some of the epitaphs are unique. Here is one:

“Johne Stretche, Aldermane, third son too Bartholomewe

This monument made in Febrarye most true,