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ONE IRISH SUMMER

An Ancient Celtic Cross at Glendalough

ONE IRISH SUMMER

BY
WILLIAM ELEROY CURTIS
AUTHOR OF
“The Yankees of the East,” “Between the Andes and the Ocean”
“Modern India,” “The Turk and his Lost Provinces”
“To-day in Syria and Palestine,” etc.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK
DUFFIELD & COMPANY
1909

Copyright, 1908,
By William E. Curtis

Copyright, 1909,
By Duffield & Company

THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

ONE IRISH SUMMER

I
A SUMMER IN IRELAND

For those who have never spent a summer in Ireland there remains a delightful experience, for no country is more attractive, unless it be Japan, and no people are more genial or charming or courteous in their reception of a stranger, or more cordial in their hospitality. The American tourist usually lands at Queenstown, runs up to Cork, rides out to Blarney Castle in a jaunting car, and across to Killarney with a crowd of other tourists on the top of a big coach, then rushes up to Dublin, spends a lot of money at the poplin and lace stores, takes a train for Belfast, glances at the Giant’s Causeway, and then hurries across St. George’s Channel for London and the Continent. Hundreds of Americans do this each year, and write home rhapsodies about the beauty of Ireland. But they have not seen Ireland. No one can see Ireland in less than three months, for some of the counties are as different as Massachusetts and Alabama. Six weeks is scarcely long enough to visit the most interesting places.

The railway accommodations, the coaches, the steamers, and other facilities for travel are as perfect as those of Switzerland. The hotels are not so good, and there will be a few discomforts here and there to those who are accustomed to the luxuries of London and Paris, but they can be endured without ruffling the temper, simply by thinking of the manifold enjoyments that no other country can produce.

And Ireland is particularly interesting just now because of the mighty forces that are engaged in the redemption of the people from the poverty and the wretchedness in which a large proportion of them have been submerged for generations. No government ever did so much for the material welfare of its subjects as Great Britain is now doing for Ireland, and the improvement in the condition of affairs during the last few years has been extraordinary.

In order to observe and describe this economic evolution, the author spent the summer of 1908 visiting various parts of the island and has endeavored to narrate truthfully what he saw and heard. This volume contains the greater part of a series of letters written for The Chicago Record-Herald and also published in The Evening Star of Washington, The Times of St. Louis, and other American papers. By permission of Mr. Frank B. Noyes, editor and publisher of The Chicago Record-Herald, and to gratify many readers who have asked for them, they are herewith presented in permanent form.

About three hundred passengers landed with us at Queenstown. Most of them were young men and young women of Irish birth, returning after a few years’ experience in the United States. Several had come home to be married, but most of them were on a visit to their parents and other relatives. Among those who disembarked were several older men and women who were born in Ireland, but had been taken to America in infancy or in childhood and were now looking upon the fair face of Erin for the first time.

There is an astonishing difference in the appearance and behavior of the steerage passengers who are sailing east from those who are sailing west. A few years, or even a few months, in America causes an extraordinary change in the dress and the manners of a European peasant. You can see it in the passengers that land at Genoa and Naples, and those that land at Hamburg and Trieste. But it is even more noticeable in the Americanized Irish who land at Queenstown by the thousand every summer from New York. The Italian, the Hungarian, or the Pole who goes aboard a steamer to America with his humble belongings and his quaint looking garments is a very different person from the man who sails from New York back to the fatherland a few years later. And the Irish boys and girls who went ashore with us just as the sun was waking up Ireland were as hearty, well dressed, and prosperous looking as you would wish to see. And every young woman had a big “Saratoga” in place of the “cotton trunk with the pin lock” that she carried away with her when she left the old country for America the first time. I don’t know what was in those big trunks, although one can get a glimpse of their contents if he stands by while the customs officers are inspecting them, but you can see the names “Delia O’Connell, New York,” “Katherine Burke, Chicago,” and “Mary Murphy, Baltimore,” marked in big black letters at either end. And what is most noticeable, the trunks are all new. They have never crossed the ocean before, but will be going back again to America in a few months. Their owners will not be contented with the discomforts they will find at their old homes. Ireland is more prosperous today than for generations, but conditions among the poorer classes are very different from those that exist in the new world.

The purser told me that he changed nearly $4,000 of American into English money the day before we landed, for third-class passengers alone. One man had $400; that was the maximum, but the rest of those who disembarked at Queenstown had from $50 up to $250 and thereabouts in cash, with their return tickets.

Queenstown makes a brave appearance from the deck of a ship in the bay, even before sunrise. It lies along a steep slope, with green fields and forests on either side, and the most conspicuous building is a beautiful gothic cathedral, with an unfinished tower, that was commenced in 1868 and has cost nearly a million dollars already. The hill is so steep that a heavy retaining wall has been built as a buttress to make the cathedral foundations secure, and the worshipers must climb a winding road or a sharp stairway to reach it. A little farther along the hillside is an imposing marine hospital and group of barracks, from which we could hear the bugles sounding “reveille” as we landed. There are compensations to those who are marooned at Queenstown before daylight, and one of them is the picturesque surroundings of the ancient homes of the O’Mahony’s, who ruled this part of Ireland for many generations long ago.

The harbor is like an amphitheatre, entirely inclosed by hills, three hundred or four hundred feet high, that are covered with frowning battlements. Every hilltop is strongly fortified. The bay, which is four miles long and about two miles wide, contains several islands, upon which the government has built warehouses, repair shops, shipyards, and the other appurtenances of a naval station, guarded by Fort Carlisle, Fort Camden, and other modern fortresses. Upon Haulbowline Island is a depot for ammunition and other ordnance stores, and the pilot told me that on Rocky Island near by were two magazines—great chambers chiseled out of the living rock by Irish convicts who were formerly confined there—and that each of them contained twenty-five thousand barrels of powder belonging to the British navy.

Queenstown has many handsome estates overlooking the sea and the bay from the hills that inclose the harbor. There is an old ruined castle at Monkstown that was built in 1636 by Anastasia Gould, wife of John Archdecken, while her husband was at sea. She determined that she would surprise him when he returned home. So she hired a lot of men to build a castle with only the material they found on the estate, and made an agreement with them that they should buy the food and clothing necessary for their families from herself alone. It is the first record of a “company store” that I know of. When the castle was finished and the accounts were balanced it was found that the cost of the labor had been entirely paid for by the profits of this thrifty woman’s mercantile transactions, with the sum of four pence as a balance to her credit. Her husband returned in due time and was so delighted with his new home that he never went to sea again. His estimable wife died in 1689, and was buried in the churchyard of Team-*pulloen-Bryn, where this story is inscribed with her epitaph.

On Wood’s Hill, overlooking the bay, is a handsome estate that once belonged to Curran, the famous lawyer and orator, whose daughter was the sweetheart of Robert Emmet, the Irish martyr. Her melancholy romance is related in Washington Irving’s story called “The Broken Heart” and in one of Tom Moore’s ballads.

Queenstown

It is 165 miles from Queenstown to Dublin, and the railroad passes through several of the counties whose names are most familiar to Americans, for they have furnished the greater portion of our Irish immigrants—Cork, Limerick, Tipperary, Queens, and Kildare. Most of the passengers who landed with us took the same train, and they were so many that they crowded the little railway station to overflowing and created a scene of lively confusion. Some of them had been met by brothers, fathers, sweethearts, and friends, who were waiting two hours before daylight, and the hearty greetings and enthusiasm they showed were contagious. The sweethearts were easy to identify. The demonstrations of affection left no doubt, but all the world loves a lover, and we rejoiced with them. In the long line that stood before the ticket seller’s window at the railway station they chattered unconsciously like so many sparrows, their arms around each other, with an occasional embrace, a sly kiss and a slap to pay for it, tender caresses upon the shoulder or the head, and other expressions of a happiness that could not have been concealed. The home-bred young men gazed with wonder and admiration at the finery worn by their sweethearts from America, who, by the way, although they came third class, and were undoubtedly chambermaids or shop girls in our cities, were the best-looking and the best-dressed women we saw in Ireland. The pride of the parents at the appearance and the manners of their sons or daughters showed that they appreciated the accomplishments that American experience acquires.

One of the younger passengers, a boy of twenty years, perhaps, told me that he had come from Ohio to persuade his father to send his two younger brothers back with him. They live in Tipperary, where “there is no show for a young man now.” Another young man had a tiny American flag pinned to the lapel of his coat, and when I said, “You show your colors,” the lassie who clung to his arm turned at me with a determined expression on her face and remarked:

“I’ll be takin’ that off and pinnin’ a piece of green in its place vera soon.”

“No, you don’t, darlin’; none o’ that,” he replied. “I’m an American citizen, and I don’t care who knows it. If you don’t want to be one yourself, I know another girl who does.”

The country through which the railway to Dublin runs affords a beautiful example of Irish scenery. As far as Cork the track follows the bank of the River Lee, which is inclosed on either side by a high ridge crowned with stately mansions, glorious trees, and handsome gardens. Several of the places are historic, and the scenery has been frequently described in verse by the Irish poets.

Father Prout, a celebrated rhymemaker of Cork, has described one of the villages as follows:

“The town of Passage is both large and spacious,

And situated upon the say;

’Tis nate and dacent and quite adjacent

To Cork on a summer’s day.

There you may slip in and take a dippin’

Foreninst the shippin’ that at anchor ride,

Or in a wherry you can cross the ferry

To Carrigaloe on the other side.”

We could not see much from the car window, but we saw enough on the journey to understand why it is called “The Emerald Isle” and why the Irish people are so enthusiastic over its landscapes. The river is walled in nearly all the distance to Cork, and there are many factories, storehouses, and docks on both sides. Quite a fleet of steamers ply between Queenstown and Cork, and trains on the railroad are running every hour. Small seagoing vessels can go up as far as Cork, but the larger ones discharge and receive their cargoes at Queenstown. We couldn’t see much of the towns because the railway tracks are either elevated so that only the roofs and chimney pots are visible, or else they are buried between impenetrable walls or pass through tunnels on either side of the station. But when the train passed out into the open a succession of most attractive landscapes was spread before us as far as the horizon on either side, and the fields were alive with bushes of brilliant orange-colored gorse, or furze, as it is sometimes called. They lit up the atmosphere as the burning bush of Moses might have done. Very little of the ground is cultivated. Only here and there is a field of potatoes and cabbages, but the pastures are filled with fine looking cattle and sheep, for this is the grazing district of Ireland, from whence her famous dairy products and the best beef and mutton come.

Beyond Portarlington we got our first glimpses of the bogs, with which we are told one-sixth of the surface of Ireland is covered, an area of not less than 2,800,000 acres. Bogs were formerly supposed to be due to the depravity of the natives, who are too lazy to drain them and have allowed good land to run to waste and become covered with water and rotten vegetation, but this theory has been effectively disposed of by science. Everybody should know that the bogs of Ireland are not only due to the natural growth of a spongy moss called sphagnum, but furnish an inexhaustible fuel supply to the people and have a value much greater than that of the drier and higher land. The report of a “bogs commission” describes them as “the true gold mines of Ireland,” and estimates them as “infinitely more valuable than an inexhaustible supply of the precious metal.” The average Irish bog will produce 18,231 tons of peat per acre, which is equivalent to 1,823 tons of coal, thus making the total supply of peat equivalent to 5,104,000 tons of coal, capable of producing 300,000 horse power of energy daily for manufacturing purposes for a period of about four hundred and fifty years. With coal selling at $2 a ton in Ireland to-day, this makes the bogs of Ireland worth $10,000,000,000. The “bog trotter” is an individual to be cultivated, for when our coal deposits in the United States are exhausted we may have to send over and buy some of his peat for fuel. It is proposed to utilize these deposits and save transportation charges by erecting power-houses at the peat beds and furnish electricity over wires to the neighboring towns and cities for lighting, power, and other purposes, “for anybody having work to do from curling a lady’s hair to running tramways and driving machinery.” The writer refers to recent installations of electric works in Mysore, India, for working gold fields ninety miles distant, and quotes the late Lord Kelvin’s opinion that the city of New York will soon be getting its power from Niagara, four hundred miles away. We saw them digging peat in the fields and piling it up like damp bricks to dry in the sun. Freshly dug peat contains about seventy per cent of moisture, but when cured the ratio is reduced to fifteen or twenty per cent.

A peat bog is not always in a hollow, but often on a hillside, and sometimes at considerable height, which contradicts the theory that bogs are due to defective drainage. Science long ago determined that Irish peat was the accumulation of a peculiar kind of moss which grows like a coral bank in the damp soil, and continues to pile up in layers year after year, century after century, until it forms a solid mass, several feet thick, seventy per cent moisture and thirty per cent fibre, which burns slowly and furnishes a high degree of heat. We see bogs on all sides of us where the peat is three and four feet thick, and with a long straight spade that is as sharp as a knife, it is cut into blocks about eight or ten inches long and about four inches square. A sharp spade will slice it just as a knife would cut cheese or butter, and after the blocks have lain on the ground a while they are stacked up on end in little piles to dry. Then, when they have been exposed to the weather for three or four weeks, they are stacked in larger piles, from which they are carted away and sold or used as they are needed.

The Rock of Cashel, County Tipperary

Four tons of peat are equal in caloric energy to one ton of coal. I noticed in the papers that a bill is pending before the House of Commons to grant a charter to a company to erect a station in a bog near Robertson, Kings County, twenty-five miles from Dublin, for generating electricity from peat, the power to be transmitted to Dublin and the suburban towns for lighting, transportation, and manufacturing purposes. Several other projects of a similar sort have been suggested for utilizing the peat at the bog instead of carting it into town.

Beyond the peat beds rises a chain of low mountains with a curious profile that runs west of the town of Templemore. Like every other freak of nature in Ireland, they are the scenes of many interesting legends. The highest peak is called “The Devil’s Bit,” and the queer shape is accounted for by the fact that the Prince of Darkness in a fit of hunger and fatigue once took a bite out of the mountain, and, not finding it to his taste, spat it out again some miles to the eastward, where it is now famous as the Rock of Cashel.

Cashel, at present a miserable, deserted village, was once the rich and proud capital of Munster. Adjoining the ruins of the cathedral is the ancient and weather-worn “Cross of Cashel,” which was raised upon a rude pedestal, where the kings of Munster were formerly crowned. The ruins are more extensive than anywhere else in Ireland, for Cashel at one time was the ecclesiastical capital of Ireland and its greatest educational centre. Here the Pope’s legates resided and here Henry II., in 1172, received the homage of the Irish kings. But what gives the place its greatest sanctity is the fact that St. Patrick spent much time there and held there the first synod that ever assembled in Ireland, about the middle of the fifth century. That is supposed to have been the reason for the erection of so many sacred edifices and monasteries in early days. St. Declan lived there, too, and commemorated his conversion to Christianity by the erection of one of the churches. Donald O’Brien, King of Limerick, erected another, and his son Donough founded an abbey in 1182. Holy Cross, beautifully situated in a thick grove on the banks of the River Suir, was built in 1182 for the Cistercian order of monks. It derived its name because a piece of the true cross, set with precious stones and presented to a grandson of Brian Boru by Pope Pascal II., was kept there for centuries, and made the abbey the object of pilgrimages of the faithful from all parts of Ireland. This precious relic is now in the Ursuline convent at Cork.

Cashel was destroyed during the civil wars. The famous Gerald Fitzgerald, the great Earl of Kildare, had a grudge against Archbishop Cragh and burned the cathedral and the bishop’s palace. He excused the act before the king on the ground that he “believed the archbishop was in it.”

A little beyond Templemore, at Ballybrophy Junction, a branch of the main line of the railway leads to the town of Birr, which is famous as the seat of the late Earl of Rosse, whose father erected an observatory there many years ago, with one of the largest and finest telescopes in the world. It is twenty-seven feet long, with a lens three feet in diameter. Some of the most important discoveries of modern astronomy have been made there, and Birr has been the object of pilgrimages for scientific men for more than half a century. The old Birr castle has been much enlarged and modernized by the late earl, who died in September, 1908, and is surrounded by an estate of thirty-six thousand acres, upon which is one of the best built and well kept towns in Ireland. He was a scholar and scientist of reputation, president of the Royal Irish Academy and the Royal Dublin Society, and interested in important manufactories and enterprises. He was especially active in developing the steam turbine.

All of that section of Ireland covered by the journey between Dublin and Cork is associated with heroic struggles. It has been fought over time and again by the clans and the factions that have struggled to rule the state. Every town and every castle has its tragic and romantic history. Almost every valley is associated with a legend or an important event. The woods and the hills are still peopled with fairies, and local traditions among the humble folks are the themes of fascinating tales and songs. But the natives one sees at the railway stations do not look at all romantic. A sentimental person is compelled to endure many severe shocks when he comes in contact with the present generation of Irish peasants.

Holycross Abbey, County Tipperary

The people of Ireland are more prosperous to-day (July, 1908) than they have been for generations. Their financial condition is better than it ever has been, and is improving every year. The bank deposits, the deposits in postal savings banks, the government returns of the taxable property, have advanced steadily every year for the last ten years, and in Ireland, during the last ten years, there has been a gradual and healthful improvement in every branch of trade and industry. The people are more prosperous than in England or Scotland, except in certain sections where poverty is chronic because of climatic reasons and the barrenness of the soil. Nevertheless, they are not so prosperous as they ought to be under the circumstances, and it would require a book, and a large book, to repeat the many theories that are offered to explain the situation. It is a question upon which very few people agree, and they probably never will agree. There are almost as many theories as there are people. Therefore a discussion is not only disagreeable but it would lead immediately into politics. It is safe to say, however, that every Irishman who is willing to take a farm and cultivate it with intelligence and industry will prosper if he will let politics and whisky alone. Idleness, neglect, intemperance, and other vices produce the same results in Ireland as elsewhere, and under present conditions industry and thrift will make any honest farmer prosperous.

The moral and intellectual regeneration of the country is keeping step with the material regeneration. All religious qualifications and disqualifications have been removed; the church has been divorced from the state, and each religious denomination stands upon an equality in every respect.

The penal laws have been repealed and the tithe system has been abolished.

Local representative government prevails everywhere.

Nearly every official in Ireland is a native except the lord-lieutenant, the treasury remembrancer, and several agricultural experts who are employed as instructors for the farmers and fishermen by the Agricultural Department, and the Congested Districts Board.

The primary schools of Ireland are now free; free technical schools have been established at convenient locations for the training of mechanics, machinists, electricians, engineers, and members of the other trades.

Two new universities have been authorized,—one in the north and the other in the south of Ireland,—for the higher education of young men and women.

Temperance reforms are being gradually accomplished by the church and secular temperance societies, which are working in harmony; the license law has been amended so as to reduce the number of saloons, and three-fourths of the saloons are closed on Sunday throughout the island. The Father Mathew societies are gaining in numbers; the use of liquor at wakes and on St. Patrick’s Day has been prohibited by the Roman Catholic bishops, and the number of persons arrested for drunkenness and disorderly conduct is decreasing annually.

Every tenant that has been evicted in Ireland during the last thirty years has been restored to his old home, and the arrears of rent charged against him have been canceled.

The land courts have adjusted the rentals of 360,135 farms, and have reduced them more than $7,500,000 a year.

More than one hundred and twenty-six thousand families have been enabled to purchase farms with money advanced by the government to be repaid in sixty-eight years at nominal interest.

Several thousand families have been removed at government expense from unproductive farms to more fertile lands purchased for them with government money to be repaid in sixty-eight years.

Thousands of cottages, stables, barns, and other farm buildings have been built and repaired by the government for the farmers, and many millions of dollars have been advanced them for the purchase of cattle, implements, and other equipment through agents of the Agricultural Department.

More than twenty-three thousand comfortable cottages have been erected for the laborers of Ireland with money advanced by the government to be repaid in small instalments at nominal interest.

The landlord system of Ireland is being rapidly abolished; the great estates are being divided into small farms and sold to the men who till them. The agricultural lands of Ireland will soon be occupied by a population of independent farm owners instead of rent-paying tenants.

The Agricultural Department is furnishing practical instructors to teach the farmers how to make the most profitable use of their land and labor, how to improve their stock, and how to produce better butter, pork, and poultry.

The Agricultural Department furnishes seeds and fertilizers to farmers and instructs them how they should be used to the best advantage.

The Irish Agricultural Organization Society has instructed thousands of farmers in the science of agriculture and has established thousands of co-operative dairies and supply stores to assist the farmers in getting higher prices for their products and lower prices for their supplies.

The Congested Districts Board has expended seventy million dollars to improve the condition of the peasants in the west of Ireland; to provide them better homes and to place them where they can get better returns for their labor.

Thousands of fishermen have been furnished with boats, nets, and other tackle; they have been supplied with salt for curing their fish; casks and barrels for packing them; have been provided with wharves for landing places and warehouses for the storage of their implements and supplies; and government agents have secured a market for their fish and have supervised the shipments and sales.

Thousands of weavers have been furnished with looms in their cottages at government expense, so that they can increase their incomes by manufacturing home-made stuffs.

Schools have been established at many convenient points in the west of Ireland, where peasant women and girls may learn lace-making. The government furnishes the instruction free, supplies the materials used, and provides for the sale of the articles made.

Work has been furnished with good wages for thousands of unemployed men in the construction of roads and other public improvements.

District nurses have been stationed at convenient points along the west coast, where there are no physicians, to attend the sick and aged and relieve the distress among the peasant families, and hospitals have been established for the treatment of the ill and injured at government expense.

II
THE CATHEDRALS AND DEAN SWIFT

St. Patrick’s Cathedral is, perhaps, the most notable building in Ireland, and one of the oldest. During the religious wars and the clashes of the clans in the early history of Ireland it was the scene and the cause of much contention and violence. Its sacred walls were originally arranged as fortifications to defend it against the savage tribes and to protect the dignitaries of the church, who resided behind embattled gates for centuries. At one time St. Patrick’s was used as a barrack for soldiers, and the verger will show you an enormous baptismal font, from which he says the dragoons used to water their horses, and the interior was fitted up for courts of law. Henry VIII. confiscated the property and revenues because the members of its chapter refused to accept the new doctrines, and nearly all of them were banished from Ireland. He abolished a small university that was attached to the cathedral by the pope in 1320 for the education of priests. For five hundred years there was a continuous quarrel between St. Patrick’s and Christ Church Cathedral, which stands only two blocks away, because of rivalries over ecclesiastical privileges, powers, and revenues. Finally a compromise was reached, under which there has since been peace between the two great churches and relations similar to those of Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s in London. Christ Church is the headquarters of the episcopal see of Dublin, and St. Patrick’s is regarded as a national church. The chief reason why St. Patrick’s has such a hold upon the affections and reverence of the people is because it stands upon the site of a small wooden church erected by St. Patrick himself in the year 450 and within a few feet of a sacred spring or well at which he baptized thousands of pagans during his ministry. The exact site of the well was identified in 1901 by the discovery of an ancient Celtic cross buried in the earth a few feet from the tower of the cathedral. The cross is now exhibited in the north aisle. The floor of the church is only seven feet above the waters of a subterranean brook called the Poddle, and during the spring floods is often inundated, but in the minds of the founders the sanctity of the spot compensated for the insecure foundations.

St. Patrick’s little wooden building, which is supposed to be the first Christian sanctuary erected in Ireland, was replaced in 1191 by the present lofty cruciform edifice, three hundred feet long and one hundred and fifty-seven feet across the transepts. It was designed and erected by Comyn, the Anglo-Norman archbishop of Dublin, is supposed to have been completed in 1198, and was raised to the rank of a cathedral in 1219. There were frequent alterations and repairs during the first seven centuries of its existence, until 1864-68, when it was perfectly restored by Sir Benjamin Guinness, the great brewer, who also purchased several blocks of dilapidated slums that surrounded it, tore down the buildings, and turned the land into a park which not only affords an opportunity to see the beauties of the cathedral, but gives the poor people who dwell in that locality a playground and fresh air. Sir Benjamin purchased several of the adjoining blocks and erected upon them a series of model tenement-houses, the best in Dublin, and rents them at nominal rates to his employees and others. On the other side of the cathedral are several blocks of the most miserable tenements in the city, and sometime they also will be cleared away. A bronze statue has been erected in the churchyard as a reminder of his generosity.

St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Dublin

Benjamin Guinness was the great brewer of Dublin. In 1756 one of his ancestors started a little brewing establishment down on the bank of the Liffey River in the center of the city, which has been extended from time to time until the buildings now cover an area of more than forty acres. The property and good will were transferred by the Guinness family to a stock company for $30,000,000 in 1886, and since then the plant has been enlarged until it now exceeds in extent all other breweries in the world, represents an investment of $50,000,000, and turns out an average of two thousand one hundred barrels of beer a day.

Sir Benjamin’s son, Edward Cecil Guinness, was elevated to the peerage as Lord Iveagh and is the richest man in Ireland to-day. He is highly respected, has married into the nobility, is a great favorite with the king, is generous and philanthropic, encourages and patronizes both science and athletic sports, and is said to be “altogether a very good fellow.” Another son is Lord Ardilaun, who is equally rich and popular, and owns several of the finest estates in the kingdom.

Sir Benjamin expended $1,200,000 in restoring St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and Lord Iveagh, his son, added $350,000 more. The driver of the jaunting car that carried us there told me how many billion of glasses of beer those gifts represented, and made some funny remarks about all the profit being in the froth. But if all men were to make such good use of their money there would be no reason to complain.

St. Patrick’s Cathedral is the official seat of the Knights of St. Patrick, and their banners, helmets, and swords hang over the choir stalls, while in one of the chapels is an ancient table and a set of ancient chairs formerly used at their gatherings. Since 1869 they have met at Dublin castle. Many tattered and bullet-riddled battle flags carried by Irish regiments hang in other parts of the cathedral, and if they could tell the stories of the many brave Irishmen who have fought and perished under their silken folds, it would be more thrilling than fiction. Ireland has furnished the best fighting men in the British Army, both generals and privates, since the invasion of the Normans. The king’s bodyguard of Highlanders is now almost exclusively composed of Irish lads. In the north transept is a flag that was carried by an Irish regiment at the skirmish at Lexington at the beginning of our Revolution and at the attack on Bunker Hill. They brought it away with them to hang it here with the trophies of Irish valor of a thousand years.

St. Patrick’s is the Westminster Abbey of Ireland, and many of her most famous men are either buried within its walls or have tablets erected to their memory. John Philpott Curran, the great advocate and orator, and Samuel Lover, the song writer and novelist, whose “Handy Andy” and “Widow Machree,” are perhaps the best examples of Irish humor in literature, are honored with tablets; and Carolan, the last of the bards for whom Ireland was once so celebrated. He died in 1788. M.W. Balfe, author of that pretty little opera, “The Bohemian Girl,” and many beautiful ballads, including “I Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble Halls,” has a tablet inscribed with these words:

“The most celebrated, genial and beloved of Irish musicians, commendatore of Carlos III. of Spain, Chevalier of the Legion of Honor. Born in Dublin, 15 May, 1808, died 20th of Oct., 1870.”

Balfe was born in a small house on Pitt Street, Dublin, which bears a tablet announcing the fact.

The man who wrote that stirring poem, “The Burial of Sir John Moore,” which begins,

“Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,

As his corse to the rampart we hurried,”—

lies in St. Patrick’s. His name was Charles Wolfe, and he was once the dean of the cathedral.

In the right-hand corner of the east transept is a monument to the memory of a certain dame of the time of Elizabeth, named Mrs. St. Leger. She was thirty-seven years old at the time of her death, and, her epitaph tells us, had “a strange, eventful history,” with four husbands and eight children, all of whom she made comfortable and happy.

On the other side is a tablet to commemorate the fact that Sir Edward Fitten, who died in 1579, was married at the age of twelve years and became the father of fifteen children,—nine sons and six daughters.

The famous Archbishop Whately, the gentleman who wrote the rhetoric we studied in college, and who once presided over this diocese, is buried in a stately tomb, and his effigy, beautifully carved in marble, lies upon it.

The most imposing monument of all, and one which is associated with much history and tragedy, was erected in honor of his own family by Richard Boyle, the first Earl of Cork, who was a great man in his day. So pretentious was the monument that Archbishop Laud ordered it removed from the cathedral. This was done by Thomas Wentworth, afterward Earl of Strafford, who was sent over by King Charles with an armed force to govern Ireland. Boyle, who had himself designed and expended a great deal of money upon “the famous, sumptuous, and glorious tomb,” which was to immortalize him and sixteen members of his family, was so indignant that he never forgave Strafford, and afterward caused the latter to be betrayed to a shameful death at the hands of his enemies.

The most interesting historic relic in the cathedral is an ancient oaken door with a large hole cut in the center of it. It bears an explanatory inscription as follows:

“In the year 1492 an angry conference was held at St. Patrick, his church, between the rival nobles, James Butler, Earl of Ormonde, and Gerald Fitzgerald, Earl of Kildare, the said deputies, and their armed retainers. Ormonde, in fear of his life, fled for refuge to the Chapiter House, and Kildare, pressing Ormonde to the Chapiter House door, undertooke on his honor that he should receive no villanie. Whereupon the recluse, craving his lordship’s hand to assure him his life, there was a clift in the Chapiter House door pearced at trice to the end that both Earls should shake hands and be reconciled. But Ormonde surmising that the clift was intended for further treacherie refused to stretch out his hand—” and the inscription goes on to relate that Kildare, having no such nervousness, thrust his hand through the hole and without the slightest hesitation. Ormonde shook it heartily and peace was made.

For centuries it was said that whoever might be Viceroy of Ireland it was the Earl of Kildare who governed the country. A long line of Kildares succeeded each other, and their living successor, better known as the Duke of Leinster, is now the premier of the Irish nobility, although he is still a boy, just twenty-one. Both the Kildares and the Earls of Desmond were descended from Gerald Fitzgerald, who in the thirteenth century founded that powerful clan known as the Geraldines. In the fifteenth, and at the beginning of the sixteenth, century they exercised absolute control in Ireland, and Garrett, or Gerald Fitzgerald, the eighth Earl of Kildare, known as “The Great Earl,” had greater authority than any other Irishman has ever displayed in his native island since the days of Brian Boru. At one time his daughter, wife of the Earl of Clanricarde, appealed to her father from a quarrel with her husband. The old gentleman took her part, ordered out his army, and met his son-in-law in the battle of Knockdoe, where it is said eight thousand men were slain.

Near the entrance to St. Patrick’s Cathedral is a long, narrow, brass tablet upon which are inscribed the names of the fifty-seven deans who have had ecclesiastical jurisdiction there from 1219 to 1902. The most famous in the list is that of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, D.D., author of “Gulliver’s Travels,” “The Tale of a Tub,” and other equally well-known works. He presided here for more than thirty years, and was undoubtedly the most brilliant as well as the most remarkable clergyman in the history of the diocese of Dublin. He was the greatest of all satirists, one of the most brilliant of all wits, and an all-around genius, but was entirely without moral consciousness, altogether selfish, inordinately vain, and one of the most eccentric characters in the history of literature. He was born in Dublin Nov. 30, 1667; educated at Trinity College, where he distinguished himself only by his eccentricities; was curate of two churches, and dean of St. Patrick’s Cathedral for more than thirty years, although neither his manners nor his morals conformed to the standards that are fixed for clergymen in these days. He was more famous for his wit than his wisdom; for his piquancy than for piety. He spent most of his life in Dublin, died there, was buried in St. Patrick’s Cathedral by the side of a woman whose life he wrecked, and left his money to found an insane asylum which is still in existence.

The house in which Jonathan Swift was born can still be seen in Hoey’s Court, which once was a popular place of residence for well-to-do people, and has several mansions of architectural pretensions, but has degenerated into a slum, one of the many that may be found in the very center of the business section of the city. He came of a good Yorkshire family; his mother had aristocratic connections and was one of those women who seem to have been born to suffer from the failings of men. His father was a shiftless adventurer, following several professions and occupations in turn without even ordinary success in any. Jonathan went to the parish schools in Kilkenny for a time when his father happened to be living in that locality, and when he was seventeen years old passed the entrance examinations to Trinity College, Dublin. He was a willful, independent, eccentric person, of a lonely and sour disposition, and refused to be bound by the rules of the university. He would not study mathematics or physics, but delighted in classical literature, and furnished many witty contributions to college literature which gave promise of genius. He wrote a play that was performed by the college students with great success. His degree was reluctantly conferred by the faculty through the influence of Sir William Temple, a famous statesman of those days, whose wife was a distant relative of Swift’s mother.

Shortly after graduation he became private secretary to Sir William Temple and attended him in London during several sessions of parliament. While there, under some influence that has never been explained in a satisfactory manner, Swift decided to enter the ministry, and took a course of theology at Oxford. After his ordination in 1695 Sir William Temple got him a living in a quiet, secluded village called Laracor, in central Ireland, near Tara, the ancient capital, in a church that long ago crumbled to ruins and has been replaced by a modern building. It was a small parish consisting of not more than ten or twelve aristocratic families, among them the ancestors of the great Duke of Wellington. The young curate’s congregation was not very regular in its attendance, and you will remember, perhaps, an amusing story, how the Rev. Mr. Swift, when he came from the vestry one Sabbath morning, found no one but the sexton, Roger Morris, in the pews. He read the service, as usual, however, and with that quaint sense of humor which cropped out in everything he did, began solemnly:

“Dearly beloved Roger, the Scripture moveth us in sundry places,” etc.

Coming to the conclusion that he was not fitted for parish work, Swift obtained the position of private secretary to Earl Berkeley, one of the lord justices of Ireland, but, after a while, got another church, and tried preaching again. But he spent more of his time in writing political satires than in prayer or sermonizing. He edited Sir William Temple’s speeches and wrote his biography, and went to London, where he became a member of an interesting group of politicians and pamphleteers, who supported Lord Bolingbroke. He contributed to The Tattler, The Spectator, and other publications of the time, and soon became recognized as one of the most brilliant and savage satirists and influential political writers of the day. Through political influence, and not because of his piety, he was appointed dean of St. Patrick’s, the most prominent and famous church in Dublin. He had not been in his new position long before he created a tremendous sensation and set all Ireland aflame by writing a political pamphlet signed “M.B. Drapier.”

In 1723 Walpole’s government gave to the Duchess of Kendall, the mistress of George I., a concession to supply an unlimited amount of copper coinage to Ireland, and she took William Wood, an iron manufacturer of Birmingham, into partnership. There was no mint in Dublin and no limitation in the contract, so the firm of Kendall & Wood flooded the island with new copper pence and half-pence upon which they made a profit of 40 per cent. The coins became so abundant that they lost their value. Naturally the contract created not only scandal, but an intense indignation. Many pamphlets were published and speeches were made denouncing the transaction. The most telling attack came from what purported to be an unpretentious Dublin dry goods merchant, who told in simple language the story of the coinage contract and related anecdotes of Dublin women going from shop to shop followed by carloads of copper coins from the factory of the Duchess of Kendall. He mentioned a workingman who gave a pound of depreciated pennies for a mug of ale, and declared that they were so worthless that even the beggars would not accept them.

The money was not really so much depreciated as Swift represented, but the merchants of Dublin followed the advice of the simple draper and refused to accept it any longer in trade. The government authorities made a great fuss and arrested many of the repudiators, but the grand juries refused to indict them, and on the contrary threatened to indict merchants who accepted the shameful money. The printer of the pamphlet was arrested, but never punished. The authorship became an open secret, but the authorities dared not arrest the dean, whose popularity was so great and who exercised such an extraordinary influence over the common people that they accepted whatever he said as inspired and paid him the greatest respect possible. His influence is illustrated by a story that is related about a crowd which blocked the street around St. Patrick’s Cathedral one night to watch for an eclipse of the moon, and obstructed traffic, but promptly dispersed when he sent one of his servants to tell them that the eclipse had been postponed by his orders. He wrote “Gulliver’s Travels” about this period of his life in the deanery of St. Patrick’s, which was a part of what is now the barracks of the Dublin police force. The present deanery, a modern building near by, contains portraits of Swift and other of the fifty-seven clergymen who have served as deans of St. Patrick’s.

About the same time he wrote another masterpiece of satire upon the useless and impractical measures of charity for the poor adopted by the government. It was entitled:

A MODEST PROPOSAL
FOR PREVENTING THE CHILDREN OF
POOR PEOPLE IN IRELAND
FROM BEING A BURDEN TO
THEIR PARENTS BY
FATTENING AND EATING THEM.

He wrote several bitter satires on ecclesiastical matters, which would have caused his separation from the deanery under ordinary circumstances, but the archbishop as well as the civil authorities was afraid of his caustic pen. In discussing the bishops of the Church of Ireland at one time he declared that they were all impostors. He asserted that the government always sent English clergymen of character and piety to Ireland, but they were always murdered on their way by the highwaymen of Hounslow Heath and other brigands, who put on their robes, traveled to Dublin, presented their credentials, and were installed in their places over the several dioceses of Ireland.

In 1729 the parliament of Ireland was installed in the imposing structure that stands in the center of the city of Dublin opposite the main buildings of Trinity College. Although the people had been demanding home rule and a legislature of their own for years, the new parliament soon lost its popularity. Its action provoked the hostility of the fickle people and it was attacked on all sides for everything it did. Swift took his customary part in the criticisms and christened the parliament “The Goose Pie” because, as he said, the chamber had a crust in the form of a dome-shaped roof and it was not remarkable for the intellect or knowledge of its members.

One of his lampoons, directed at parliament under the name of “The Legion Club,” begins as follows:

“As I stroll the city, oft I

See a building large and lofty,

Not a bow-shot from the college,

Half the globe from sense and knowledge.

Tell us what the pile contains?

Many a head that holds no brains.

Such assemblies you might swear

Meet when butchers bait a bear.

Such a noise and such haranguing

When a brother thief is hanging.”

This does not sound very dignified for the dean of a cathedral, but it was characteristic of Swift.

He became a physical and mental wreck in 1742 and died an imbecile from softening of the brain Oct. 9, 1745. His will, written before his mind gave way, was itself a satire, and appropriately left his slender fortune to found an insane asylum. The original copy may be seen in the public records office in a beautiful great building known as the Four Courts, the seat of the judiciary of Ireland, where the archives of the government are kept. The insane asylum is still used for that purpose and is known as St. Patrick’s Hospital for Lunatics. It stands near the enormous brewery of the Guinness company. It was the first of the kind in Ireland, and was built when the insane were restrained by shackles, handcuffs, and iron bars, but more humane modern methods of treatment were introduced long ago and it is considered a model institution. The corridors are three hundred and forty-five feet long by fourteen feet wide, with little cells or bedrooms opening upon them. Swift’s writing desk is preserved in the institution.

His whimsicalities are illustrated in the cathedral more than anywhere else and among them is the “Schomberg epitaph,” found in the north aisle to the left of the choir, chiseled in large letters upon a slab of marble. Duke Schomberg, who commanded the Protestant army of King William of Orange at the Battle of the Boyne, and was killed toward the end of that engagement, July, 1690, was buried in St. Patrick’s at the time of his death, but his grave remained unmarked. His bones were discovered, however, in 1736, during some repairs, while Swift was dean of the cathedral. In order that their ancestor’s character and achievements might be properly recognized and called to the attention of posterity, Swift applied to the head of the Schomberg family for fifty pounds to pay the expense of a memorial, which they declined to contribute. Then Swift, whose indignation was excited, paid for the slab himself and punished them by recording upon it in Latin that the cathedral authorities, having entreated to no purpose the heirs of the great marshal to set up an appropriate memorial, this tablet had been erected that posterity might know where the great Schomberg lies.

“The fame of his valor,” he adds, “is much more appreciated by strangers than by his kinsmen.”

Upon the other farther side of the church, between the tombs of the Right Honorable Lady Elizabeth, Viscountess Donneraile, and Archbishop Whately, the gentleman who wrote the rhetoric we studied at college, is buried the body of an humble Irishman, who was Dean Swift’s body servant for a generation. He was eccentric but loyal, and as witty as his master. One morning the dean, getting ready for a horseback ride, discovered that his boots had not been cleaned, and called to Sandy:

“Why didn’t you clean these boots?”

“It hardly pays to do so, sir,” responded Sandy, “they get muddy so soon again.”

“Put on your hat and coat and come with me to ride,” said the dean.

“I haven’t had my breakfast,” said Sandy.

“There’s no use in eating; you’ll be hungry so soon again,” retorted the dean, and Sandy had to follow him in a mad gallop into the suburbs of Dublin without a mouthful.

When they were three or four miles away they met an old friend who asked them where they were going so early. Before the dean could answer, Sandy replied:

“We’re going to heaven, sir; the dean’s praying and meself is fasting; both of us for our sins.”

The epitaph of Sandy in St. Patrick’s Cathedral reads as follows:

HERE LIES THE BODY OF
ALEXANDER MAGEE,
SERVANT TO DR. SWIFT, DEAN
OF ST. PATRICK’S CATHEDRAL,
DUBLIN.

His Grateful Master Caused This Monument to Be Erected in Memory of His Discretion, Fidelity and Diligence in That Humble Station.

That long-suffering woman known as Stella, whose relations with Dean Swift have been discussed for a century and a half, and are still more or less of a mystery, was Mrs. Hester (sometimes spelled Esther) Johnson, a relative of Sir William Temple, whose private secretary Jonathan Swift, her inconstant and selfish lover, was for several years. Swift called her “Stella” because her name, “Hester,” is the Persian for “star,” and first met her while he was curate of a little village church at Laracor, where she lived with a Mrs. Dingley, a companion or chaperon, who seemed to be always by her side, whether she was in Dublin or London. From the beginning of their acquaintance she shared the inner life of Swift and exercised an extraordinary influence over him. When he left Laracor for London to become the private secretary of Sir William Temple their remarkable correspondence commenced, and he wrote her a daily record of his life, his thoughts, his whims, and his fancies. Those letters have been published under the title of “Swift’s Journal to Stella,” and the book has been described as “a giant’s playfulness, written for one person’s private pleasure, which has had indestructible attractiveness for every one since.”

She followed him to London and, when he became dean of St. Patrick’s, returned with him to Dublin and lived near the deanery with Mrs. Dingley as her chaperon until her death. But Swift was not true to her. This eminent author and satirist, this merciless critic of the shortcomings of others, this doctor of divinity, this dean of the most prominent cathedral in Ireland, had numerous flirtations with other women, and Stella must have known of them, although there is no evidence that her loyal heart ever wavered in its devotion.

In 1694 he fell desperately in love with a Miss Varing, but seems to have escaped without any damage to himself or his reputation, although we do not know what happened to her. A few years later he became involved in an entanglement with a Miss Van Homrigh, which ruined her life and effectually destroyed his peace of mind. The character of their acquaintance is shown by a series of poems which passed between them as her passion developed, and he allowed it to drift on uninterrupted from day to day, evidently giving her encouragement by tongue as well as pen. His poetical communications to her were signed “Cadenus,” the Latin word for dean, and hers were signed “Vanessa,” a combination of her Christian and surname.

It was not a very dignified situation for the dean of St. Patrick’s, and the flirtation caused a decided scandal in Dublin. It appears that Vanessa expected Swift to marry her and he undoubtedly gave her good reasons, while Mrs. Johnson was regarded as his mistress to the day of her death and bore the odium with uncomplaining resignation. Long after both of them were buried under the tiles of St. Patrick’s Cathedral it was discovered that they had been secretly married in 1716, but why she consented to keep that fact a secret has never been explained except upon the theory that she was afraid of what Vanessa Van Homrigh might do. The latter, however, having lost her patience and becoming hysterical with jealousy, wrote to Stella, inquiring as to the real nature of her relations with Swift and demanding that she should relinquish her claims upon him. Stella replied promptly by sending Vanessa indisputable evidence that they had been married seven years before. Vanessa, who lived at Marley Abbey, Celbridge (now Hazelhatch Station), ten miles from Dublin, on the railway to Cork, sent Stella’s letter to Swift and retired to the house of a friend in the country, where she died a few months later of a broken heart. Swift never replied; he never saw her or communicated with her after that day, and seems to have dismissed the affair with the same indifference that he always showed concerning the interests of other people.

Five years later Stella died and was buried in the cathedral at midnight by Swift’s orders, but he did not attend the funeral. She lived in the neighborhood of the deanery, and from one of its windows he witnessed the passage of the casket to the tomb. “This is the night of the funeral,” he writes in his diary, “and I moved into another apartment that I may not see the light in the church, which is just over against the window of my bed chamber.” He then sat down at his desk and described her devotion and her love for himself and her virtues in language of incomparable beauty. His tribute, written at that moment, is one of the most beautiful passages in English literature. He preserved a lock of her hair upon which he inscribed the words:

“Only a woman’s hair!”

“Only a woman’s hair!” comments Thackeray. “Only love, fidelity, purity, innocence, beauty; only the tenderest heart in the world, stricken and wounded, and pushed away out of the reach of joy with the pangs of hope deferred. Love insulted and pitiless desertion. Only that lock of hair left, and memory, and remorse for the guilty, lonely, selfish wretch, shuddering over the grave of his victim.”

Swift’s extraordinary vanity is illustrated in the inscription he placed over Hester Johnson’s grave and his selfishness by his neglect to vindicate her reputation by announcing their marriage. The mistress of a dean is not usually buried in a cathedral over which he presides, but no one has ever questioned the right of Stella’s dust to be there. Her epitaph, which was written by his own pen, runs:

“Underneath is interred the mortal remains of Mrs. Hester Johnson, better known to the world by the name of Stella, under which she was celebrated in the writings of Dr. Jonathan Swift, dean of this cathedral.

“She was a person of extraordinary endowments and accomplishments in body, mind, and behavior; justly admired and respected by all who knew her on account of her many eminent virtues, as well as for her great natural and acquired perfections.

“She died Jan. 27, 1727, in the forty-sixth year of her age, and by her will bequeathed £1,000 toward the support of the hospital founded in this city by Dr. Steevens.”

Although Swift did his best work after Stella’s death, he was never himself again. He became sour, morose, and misanthropic. His soul burned itself out with remorse. The last four years of his life were inexpressibly sad, and the retribution he deserved came from inward rather than outward causes. He was harassed by periodical attacks of acute dementia, to which his wonderful brain gradually yielded, and before his death he became an utter imbecile. He seemed to anticipate and prepare himself for such a fate, because among his papers was found his will, in which he bequeathed his entire estate to found an asylum for just such creatures as he himself became. He prepared his own epitaph, which reads as follows:

“Hic Depositum est Corpus.

Jonathan Swift, S.T.P.

Hujus, ecclesiae cathedrae decani ubi saeva

Indignatio ulterius cor lacerare nequit.

Abi viator, et imitare, si poteris,

Strenuum pro virili libertatis vindiceim.”

A liberal translation reads: “Here is deposited the body of Jonathan Swift, dean of this cathedral, where cruel indignation can no longer lacerate the heart. Go, stranger, and imitate, if you can, his strenuous endeavors in defense of liberty.”

The vault in which the two bodies rest has been twice disturbed during repairs of the cathedral, in 1835, when casts of their skulls were taken, and in 1882, when a new floor was laid. It is now marked by a modest tablet of tiles near the south entrance to the cathedral. Upon a bracket near by is a bust of Swift contributed by Mr. Faulkner, the nephew and successor of his original publisher.

Many anecdotes are told of Swift’s peculiarities. He must have filled a large place in the life of Dublin during the thirty years that he was the dean of the cathedral. He was prominent in political, social, and ecclesiastical affairs during all that period and always welcome as a guest at the houses of the aristocracy in this neighborhood. In the suburb of Glasnevin was an estate called Hildeville, belonging to a generous but pretentious patron of the arts and sciences, named Dr. Delany, where the brilliant minds of that day used to gather for a good time. Swift is closely associated with the place and was one of Dr. Delany’s most frequent and regular visitors. He called it “Hell-Devil,” and chose for its motto “Fastigia Despicet Urbis,” in which the verb is used in a double sense.

Many of his most stinging satires were written there, including his ferocious libel on the Irish parliament. A reward was offered for the discovery of the author, and although a hundred members of the commons knew that it was from Swift’s pen, no attempt was ever made to punish him and he was never even denounced publicly. And he wasn’t above ridiculing his host, for here is an extract from an ode addressed to Dr. Delany of “Hell-Devil,” when he was the latter’s guest:

“A razor, though to say ’t I’m loath,

Might shave you and your meadow both,

A little rivulet seems to steal

Along a thing you call a vale,

Like tears adown a wrinkled cheek,

Like rain along a blade of leek—

And this you call your sweet meander,

Which might be sucked up by a gander,

Could he but force his rustling bill

To scoop the channel of the rill.

In short, in all your boasted seat,

There’s nothing but yourself is—great.”

“Is it singin’ yees want?” said the verger of Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin, when we entered that ancient sanctuary shortly before the hour for worship on a gloomy, drizzly Sabbath morning. “Then yees have come to the roight place. The choir of Christ Church is the finest in all Ireland, and mebbe in the whole wurrld, I dunno. Thay’s twinty-four b’ys and min, and every mother’s son iv thim is from the first families of Dooblin. The lads has been singin’ frum their cradles, and they make the swatest music that ears ever heard; blessed be the Lord! Not as if they had no mischief in thim, for b’ys will be b’ys, singin’ or no singin’; and thim that has the medals hangin’ on their chists is the best behaved and the least mischaveous.”

We remained after the service to look about, and when the verger asked what I thought of the sermon I told him.

“It’s not of much consequence!” observed the cynic. And when I told him that the singing wasn’t much better than the preaching, and that the boys sang out of tune, he replied apologetically:

“I hope your honor won’t think the liss of thim for that; they’re all honest, well-meaning lads, an’ what harm is it at all, at all, if they do sing out of chune betimes?”

Christ Church is one of the oldest structures in Ireland, was originally erected in 1038 by the Danish king Sigtryg, “Of the Silken Beard,” and in 1152 was made the seat of the archbishop of Dublin. In 1172 Strongbow, the Welch Earl of Pembroke, leader of the Norman invasion, swept away the original building to make room for the present edifice, which was fifty years in building. The present nave, transepts, and crypt are those that Strongbow erected, having been thoroughly repaired and restored by Henry Roe, a wealthy distiller, at a cost of £220,000, between 1870 and 1878. In 1178 Strongbow died of a malignant ulcer of the foot, which his enemies attributed to the vengeance of the early Irish saints whose shrines he had violated, and he is buried within the church he built. His black marble tomb is on the south side, with a recumbent effigy in chain armor lying upon the sarcophagus. A smaller effigy in black marble, representing the upper half of a human form, lies beside him and is said to mark the tomb of Strongbow’s son, whom his father literally cut in half with his mighty sword for showing cowardice in battle. Sir Henry Sidney, who discussed the question at length in 1571, declares that there is no doubt that the remains of Strongbow were deposited here, but there is another tomb, with a similar effigy of one-half of his son lying beside it, in an ancient church at Waterford, where Strongbow dwelt in a castle and made his headquarters. The claims of the Waterford tomb are considered much stronger than those of Christ Church in Dublin, because that was where he died and where his wife and family lived after him.

The interior of the church has many points of beauty, especially the splendid stone work of the nave and aisles and the graceful arches which, although very massive, are chiseled with such delicacy that their heaviness does not appear. The floor is covered with modern tiles which are exact copies of the originals, and in the restoration of the building the architect has shown similar conscientiousness in all his work. The great age of the stone gives it a rich and mellow tone, and although here and there one may come across evidences of decay or damage, it is in better condition than most of the modern churches of Ireland.

Across the street and connected by a bridge with the cathedral is the Synod Hall, the headquarters of the general synod, which has control of the affairs of the Episcopal Church of Ireland since it was separated from the Church of England and made independent of the state by an act of parliament July 26, 1869. This was called “The Disestablishment”—a long and awkward word—but such words are common in English and Irish official literature. It is often difficult for an American to understand the meaning of the terms used in acts of parliament and reports of the officials of the government.

The Tomb of Strongbow, Christ Church, Dublin

III
HOW IRELAND IS GOVERNED

Ireland is nominally governed by a lord lieutenant or viceroy of the king, who, since December, 1905, and at present, is John Campbell Gordon, Earl of Aberdeen. He occupied the same position in the ’90’s, and has since been governor-general of Canada. Both Lord and Lady Aberdeen are well known in the United States, where Lady Aberdeen has taken an active interest in the work of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union and many benevolent enterprises and social reforms. She will be particularly remembered as the promoter of the Irish village at the Chicago Exposition in 1893, and for her successful endeavors to introduce Irish homespun, lace, linen, and other products, and to make them fashionable among the American people. She is a woman of great energy, executive ability, and determination, and has been applying those qualities very effectively in Ireland in local reforms. She has organized societies of women throughout the island to encourage the virtues and restrain the vices of the people, to relieve their distress and advance their welfare, physically, mentally, and morally, by a dozen different movements of which she is the leader and director. She started a crusade against the great white plague, brought Dr. Arthur Green from New York as an organizer, while Nathan Straus of New York has been co-operating with her in setting up establishments for the sterilization of the milk sold in Irish cities. She is president of almost everything, has a dozen secretaries and agents carrying out her orders, and is altogether the busiest woman in the United Kingdom.

The Earl of Aberdeen, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland in 1906–8

The Lord Lieutenant of Ireland has very little to do except to open fairs, lay corner stones, preside at public meetings, give dinners, and look pleasant. He is nominally the head of everything as the representative of his sovereign, the king, and is supposed to rule Ireland in his majesty’s name, but, like the Governor-General of Canada, the office is a sinecure. Its incumbent is allowed a salary of $100,000, a castle in the city, and a country lodge in Phœnix Park, a liberal allowance to maintain them and to expend in hospitality, a staff of secretaries and aids-de-camp, a full outfit of servants, and various other perquisites which would be appreciated by our President and all others in authority. And all this without any responsibilities, except to be tactful, amiable, and diplomatic, and to make friends with the people.

The actual ruler of Ireland is the Chief Secretary to the lord lieutenant, who is a member of the cabinet of the king, and spends most of his time in London, where he devises and directs the political policy of the government toward that distracted but improving portion of his majesty’s empire, looks after legislation in parliament, and attends to whatever is necessary for the good of the island. He is the Right Hon. Augustine Birrell, who is carrying out the lines of policy inaugurated by Mr. Bryce at the incoming of the present liberal government. The chief secretary is expected to spend a portion of each year in Ireland, so that he can keep in touch with affairs and get his cues from public opinion. He has a salary of $35,000 and a residence, fully equipped and appointed, near that of the lord lieutenant in Phœnix Park.

The man on the ground, the general manager of the government, and the de facto head of the executive administration, is known as the Under Secretary, who also has a handsome residence in Phœnix Park and all worldly comforts provided for him. He presides at the ancient castle in the center of the city of Dublin, surrounded by a staff of subordinates and clerks, and supervises the work of the several executive departments, most of them being scattered in rented quarters in different parts of the city. The government has long ago outgrown the castle and has appointed many officials and boards of commissioners and organized new executive departments without erecting buildings to accommodate them. Sir Antony Patrick MacDonnell, who resigned the office of under secretary, and was elevated to the peerage as Lord MacDonnell upon his retirement, is an Irishman who has spent his entire life in the service of his king, the greater part of it in India, where he was governor of four different provinces in succession and showed remarkable administrative ability. Retiring voluntarily, he came home to Ireland and was soon appointed to fill a vacancy in the office of under secretary, where he was very active, very positive in his convictions, and very determined in his methods. He made numerous recommendations that have not been adopted, and attempted to carry out a policy that was not acceptable to the politicians of Ireland, who rejected his plans for self-government and refused his overtures.

The Countess of Aberdeen

Sir Antony MacDonnell was the author of what is called the “devolution policy.” That’s a big word and has little meaning in America, but in Ireland it is in common use and full of significance; first being applied to a certain political project in Ireland by Lord Dunraven in 1904. If you will look in the dictionary you will see that “devolution” means “the act of devolving, transferring, or handing over; transmission from one person to another; a passing or falling to a successor, as of office, authority, or real estate.” In its application to the Irish situation devolution means the devolving upon the Irish people of purely local affairs, to transfer their management from the British government with a string tied to them, and that is what the Irish political leaders will not consent to. Their motto is aut home rule, aut nullus. With the co-operation of the Earl of Dunraven and others, Sir Antony MacDonnell prepared a plan of limited home rule in 1907. It gave the government of Ireland entirely into the hands of the people with the exception of the police, the courts, and the lawmaking power, which were retained under British control. The proposition was discussed by the largest convention ever held in the country and was unanimously rejected on the theory that it did not go far enough. The Irish people will never be satisfied until they are permitted to make their own laws. There were many grounds of objection from the Roman Catholic ecclesiastical authorities and others, who declare that Sir Antony’s plan of government, which was based upon his experience in India, could not be applied successfully to conditions in Ireland. Sir Antony is a very positive man, and when his solution of the Irish problem, to which he had given years of thought and study, was rejected, he concluded that he was not the man to rule that country and sent in his resignation, which was accepted with great reluctance by the government and with sincere regret by a majority of the people, who admire his ability and have confidence in his integrity and intentions.

His successor is Sir John Dougherty, his chief assistant, who has been in the office of the under secretary in Dublin Castle all his life, and has been promoted grade after grade from an ordinary clerkship to his present position because of his ability and his sterling qualities. Although he is not a man of marked individuality and initiative, like Sir Antony MacDonnell, he is considered a safe, conservative, and judicious administrator.

The next in importance, who, perhaps, should be ranked first of all, is a mysterious and autocratic official, known as the Treasury Remembrancer. He was described to me as “a lord over all, and the best hated man in Ireland. Nobody knows him or cares to know him. His fellow officials seldom hear or speak his name. He is a spy and a spotter and has arbitrary authority to disallow accounts, withhold allowances, and lock up the money chest whenever he likes. There is no statute authorizing his appointment, and there is no law or regulation defining his duties or limiting his authority, which he receives from the chancellor of the exchequer in London and to whom alone he reports.” The office pays $7,500 a year without any known perquisites, although the remembrancer is supposed to have mysterious sources of revenue that have never been found out. He cannot, however, spend the money of the crown. His authority is limited to preventing expenditures. He is “the watchdog of the treasury” in Ireland, and combines in one the duties and powers which are intrusted to the comptroller and auditors of the treasury in the United States. He interprets appropriation bills, customs laws, and decides how much money can be expended for this purpose and that. He audits all accounts, rejects many, disallows overcharges, and makes everybody who has to do with government finances a great deal of trouble. Hence his unpopularity and his habitual reserve.

In addition to these chief officials there are numerous secretaries and assistant secretaries, commissioners and boards of various jurisdictions, and executive departments, with corps of clerks similar to those in Washington. Each has its functions over some branch of the administration and all are subject to the supervision of the under secretary and the chief secretary in London. Their commissions are signed by the lord lieutenant, who knows nothing about them, has no authority over them, and acts only in a formal capacity, as the representative of the king. There is a great deal of complaint as to the excessive number of “civil servants,” as they call them over there, although such a term would be resented by the employees of the civil service in the United States. All railway officials are called “servants” in Great Britain. Every salaried person comes within that designation. Any one who will look over the printed register of government employees in Ireland will conclude that home rule has already been adopted, because the treasury remembrancer is said to be the only Englishman on the pay roll, except the lord lieutenant, several of his secretaries, and the military officers at the garrison, and several Scotch experts in the employ of the Agricultural Department and Congested Districts Board. But what spoils it all to the people of Ireland is that these officials receive their appointments from what they consider an alien authority. The touch of the English giver poisons the gift. They will never be satisfied until their commissions are signed by an Irish name. Nobody in the employ of the government is loyal. Every man hates and loathes England, and doesn’t hesitate to say so in public and in private, on all occasions, although he draws his rations from the British government. And when you remind him of that he answers promptly that the money comes from the pockets of the Irish rate-payers and England grabs £3,000,000 of it for herself.

Ireland contributes an annual average of £10,500,000 in taxes to the imperial treasury and £7,500,000 of it is expended in maintaining her government and constructing her public works. The remaining three millions is her contribution toward the support of the British empire, the wages of the king, the expenses of parliament, the support of the army and navy, and the interest upon the public debt, which is not kept separately for Ireland, and for various other purposes.

Ireland has twenty-three peers in the House of Lords and one hundred and two representatives in the House of Commons, of whom eighty-two are nationalists or home rulers. The remaining twenty are conservatives, unionists, and anti-home rulers, who believe in maintaining the present system of government and the existing relations between Great Britain and Ireland. The Irish members of parliament have been a thorn in the flesh of John Bull for many years, ever since Daniel O’Connell was admitted to the imperial legislature in 1829. They have fought fiercely for concessions term after term, have built fires in the rear of the government and have attacked it upon all sides until they have accomplished a great many reforms and are near to the point of achieving final success. If the liberal party wins at the next election every patriotic Irishman expects political emancipation, because its leaders are pledged to complete home rule on the same basis that Mr. Gladstone proposed several years ago, when he was prime minister.

The Irish peerage, like that of Scotland, are not entitled to all the rights and prerogatives enjoyed by the British peerage, and have only twenty-eight seats in the House of Lords. The total peerage of Ireland consists of two dukes, ten marquises, sixty-three earls, thirty-six viscounts, and sixty-four barons, a total of one hundred and seventy-five nobles, of whom seventeen also have titles in the English peerage, nearly all by inheritance.

The Irish peerage are represented in the House of Lords by twenty-eight of their members who are elected for life. As soon as one of these representative peers dies two or more of his colleagues notify the lord high chancellor of England of the vacancy. The latter thereupon issues a writ in the name of the king under the great seal proclaiming an election. Copies of this writ are served upon every Irish peer through the clerk of the crown at Dublin naming a date for an election. Each of the one hundred and seventy-five Irish peers has a vote, but they never assemble. They merely write to the clerk of the crown at Dublin, naming their choice, and forward a duplicate of the letter to the clerk of the House of Lords at London.

Scotland has only sixteen representative peers, who are elected by an assemblage at Holyrood Palace at Edinburgh when notified of a vacancy. There is considerable formality in the proceedings, and every peer is required to present himself to answer the roll call before he is allowed to vote. There is a good deal of preliminary canvassing in both Scotland and Ireland, and that was particularly the case of Lord Curzon of Kedleston, who was elected to the House of Lords as an Irish peer after his return from India. The candidates for the vacancy usually visit their fellow peers personally and solicit their support. Social influences go a great way. Lord Curzon was handicapped in many respects, but was elected by a large majority because of the high esteem in which he is held.

When the ballots are all in the clerk of the crown at Dublin makes up a tabulated statement which he sends with his report to the clerk of the House of Lords. The latter checks it off from his own records and announces the result to the lord high chancellor and to each of the Irish peers in person.

The representative peers at present are the Earls of Annesley, Bandon, Belmore, Darnley, Drogheda, Kilmory, Lucan, Mayo, Rosse, and Westmeath, Viscounts Bangor and Templeton, and Barons Bellew, Castlemaine, Clonbrock, Crofton, Curzon, Dunalley, Dunboine, Headley, Inchiquin, Kilmaine, Langford, Massey, Musckerry, Oranmore, Rathdonnell, and Ventry.

The premier of the Irish peerage is Maurice Fitzgerald, who is the Duke of Leinster and also is Marquis of Kildare, and represents the most distinguished and celebrated family in Ireland. His dukedom dates back to 1766. The second in rank is the Duke of Abercorn, James Hamilton, who is also Marquis of Hamilton. The third is James Edward William Theobold, twenty-seventh Marquis of Ormonde, and the fourth is Rudolph Robert Basil Aloysius Augustine Fielding, Earl of Desmond, who is also Earl of Denbigh.

The oldest titles in the Irish peerage are the following:

• Baron Kinsale, created 1223.
• Lord Dunsany, created 1439.
• Lord Timlestown, created 1461.
• Viscount Gormanston, created 1478.
• Baron Louth, created 1541.
• Lord Dumboine, created 1541.
• Baron Inchiquin, created 1543.
• Viscount Montgarrett, created 1550.
• The Earl of Fingal, created 1620.
• Viscount Grandison, created 1620.
• Earl of Cork, created 1620.
• Baron Digby, created 1620.
• Earl of Westmeath, created 1621.
• Earl of Desmond, created 1622.
• Lord Dillon, created 1622.
• Viscount Valentia, created 1622.
• Earl of Meath, created 1627.
• Baron Sherard, created 1627.
• Viscount Lumley, created 1628.
• Viscount Taffe, created 1628.

All the remaining peerages of Ireland were created later than the year 1700.

The people as a rule are respectful towards the nobility, and treat them with a consideration which is not always deserved. The bitterness of politics is more intense in Ireland than in any other country, and, as Sydney Brooks in his recent book on “Ireland in the Twentieth Century” says, “Class distinctions are not mitigated by political agreement. Differences of creed are not assuaged by harmony of economic interests. The cleavages of racial temperament are not, as in other countries, bridged over by a sense of national unity. On the contrary, all the bitterness of caste and creed, of political and material antipathies and contrast, instead of losing half their viciousness in a multiplicity of cross-currents, are gathered and rigidly compressed in Ireland into two incongruous channels. Throughout the country you can infer a man’s religion from his social position; his social position from his religion, and his views on all Irish questions from both; and nine times out of ten you infer rightly.”

That is strictly true. Nowhere in the world is a man’s politics so influenced by his religion and his social position as in Ireland. Although you will find home rulers in all classes of the English population, you will never find them outside one class in Ireland. If you are told what business he is engaged in or what church he belongs to in Ireland, it is not necessary for you to ask his politics.

While the ancient nobility of Ireland is gradually becoming extinct and their estates are being divided up among the farmers who till them, a new aristocracy is developing. The sons of what is called the middle class are invading the sacred haunts of the ancient aristocracy and are taking the places of the dukes and earls as the latter retire. Every peer that has been created in Ireland of late years has been a son of a manufacturer, a tradesman, or a country gentleman of the middle class, and at the present rate the descendants of earls and marquises will be compelled to stand back and give the sons of brewers, distillers, and other manufacturers their places at the front of the stage.

A century or even half a century ago no Irish trader or contractor, lawyer or doctor, unless he could produce the proper sort of pedigree, could enter the social world or the best clubs of Dublin and other Irish cities or participate in the sports of the gentry and aristocracy. But to-day their grandsons have the entrée to that gilded gate which hangs upon broken hinges and will soon be entirely removed. This is the result of the decadence of one class and the advance of another. A brewer or a distiller who can obtain a seat in the House of Lords must necessarily be eligible to the clubs where his colleagues meet. Nearly all of the twenty-three peers created by the present government in England have sprung from families of humble origin and are sons of men who made their money in manufacturing and trade. And there is room for more of them in the peerage. You hear irreverent people talking about “breeding up the peerage of Great Britain,” just as they talk about improving their cattle, horses, and swine, and in the clubs of London this subject is revived every time the son of a decaying family of the nobility marries the daughter of a wealthy tradesman, or the daughter of an earl weds the son of a wealthy commoner.

In Ireland the shopkeeper now educates his son for a profession. The sons of contractors become architects and civil engineers. The sons of lawyers and doctors enter the army and navy and diplomatic service. Among the large families of the middle class you will find one son a lawyer, another a doctor, and the other two in the army and navy. In order to keep pace with them and be able to appear properly in the society which their brothers enter, and in order that they may be considered suitable wives for the sons of similar families who are on the upward grade, the daughters of the middle classes of Ireland are sent to the best schools and colleges and spend their winters in Paris.

For these reasons very little is said about pedigree in Ireland these days. The army that is advancing does not look back. The decaying nobility dare not question nor criticise lest they may be trampled upon. The only people who talk about their ancestors are the peasants, who trace their descent from the Irish kings.

Mrs. O’Leary met Mrs. O’Donahue one day and in the course of conversation asked if she had ever looked up her pedigree.

“Phwat’s that?” inquired Mrs. O’Donahue.

“The people you sprang from,” was the reply.

“I’d have you know that the O’Donahues never sprang from anybody,” was the indignant retort. “They sprang at ’em.”

Every influential leader of the liberal party is a home ruler. The Earl of Aberdeen, the present lieutenant governor, Earl Dudley, his predecessor, who is now governor-general of Australia, James Bryce, recently chief secretary for Ireland and now British ambassador at Washington, and many other influential men in high places, are earnest in supporting the Irish claims for self-government, and the national party, which, after the death of Charles S. Parnell, became demoralized and split into factions under the leadership of John Redmond, John Dillon, and others, has been a unit since 1900 and is working harmoniously. The liberal leaders have promised to make home rule the leading issue at the next parliamentary election, which will probably occur in two years or so. In the meantime the Irish party in parliament will continue to pursue the policy that has already been so successful in securing concessions for the relief of the people and the promotion of the welfare and prosperity of Ireland.

The city government of Dublin is very much like that of London. The lord mayor is second in official rank to the lord lieutenant, and within the precincts of the city takes precedence of everybody except that official (who is the personal representative of the king), the royal family, and foreign ambassadors. He precedes the Archbishop of Canterbury, who is the primate of England, the two archbishops of Armagh, the primates of all Ireland, the Archbishop of Dublin, the chief secretary for Ireland, and even the prime minister of England, while the lady mayoress has the right to walk before every duchess, marchioness, and woman of title in the kingdom except the royal family. The salary of the lord mayor is $15,000 a year, and he has a beautiful old house to live in—one of the most attractive in Dublin. It is situated on Dawson Street near Stephen’s Green and is surrounded by a picturesque garden. Here in olden times the lord mayor used to entertain like a prince. It was a matter of pride that the Mansion House should never be outdone by the castle in the magnificence of its hospitality. But of late years the civic entertainments, as they were called, have been abandoned and the lady mayoress has not attempted to shine in society.

The Right Honorable Gerald O’Reilly was Lord Mayor of Dublin when I was there in 1908, and he managed to look after his private business as grocer and liquor dealer at Towns End in connection with his official duties. He was elected to office by the nationalists and the labor element, who control the politics not only of Dublin but of all Ireland, and have elected his predecessors for many years. And they have been men of the people without exception. No aristocrat, no landlord, no member of the nobility could ever hope to become Lord Mayor of Dublin.

Mr. O’Reilly was born, reared, and educated in County Carlow, where his father was a groceryman and liquor dealer like himself. When he became of age he came up to Dublin, went into business on his own account and prospered. He is not a rich man, but well to do, with a good patronage, a good reputation, and a large influence in politics. For twenty years he has served as a member of the common council and the board of aldermen, where he has proved his usefulness and his right to promotion. Mr. O’Reilly’s predecessor was an actual workingman, G.P. Nanetti, a son of an Italian artist who came to Ireland fifty years ago to engage in his profession as a decorator. Mr. Nanetti was born in Dublin, educated in the national schools, learned his trade as printer in the office of that ancient and well-known paper, the Freeman’s Journal, and was advanced from grade to grade until he became the foreman of the composing-room. In the meantime he went into politics, became a leader among the workingmen, was elected to the common council and then to the board of aldermen, and, after serving two terms as lord mayor, was elected to parliament as the representative of the business district of Dublin, which surrounds the Bank of Ireland and Trinity College. Before him Timothy Harrington was lord mayor for three terms, a longer period than any of his predecessors since the creation of the title by King Charles I. on the twenty-ninth day of July, 1641. He, too, was a great success in the office and was sent to parliament for the district which includes the docks.

The Mansion House is well adapted for entertainment. The main room is a large circular chamber, adorned with statuary, which was built especially for the reception of George IV. when he visited Ireland. The Oak Room is entirely sheathed, floor, ceiling, and walls, with a rich reddish brown oak, delicately carved. Over the fireplace is a rack for the reception of the mace and sword which are the symbols of office, and formerly, when the lord mayor went about on official occasions, they were carried before him, but Mr. O’Reilly and his recent predecessors have abolished many of those interesting old ceremonies.

There are some fine pictures in the Mansion House, portraits of Charles II. by Sir Peter Lely, George IV. by Sir Thomas Lawrence, the Earl of Northumberland by Sir Joshua Reynolds, and the Earl of Westmorland by Romney. In the entrance hall are preserved the mace and sword carried by the lord mayor who fought for James II. at the battle of the Boyne. When he fled with the rest of James’s forces he dropped the heavy insignia, which fell into the hands of the Williamites and were retained by them until a duplicate set had been furnished, many years after.

Many famous men have been entertained at the Mansion House, including General Grant, who visited Dublin during the holidays of 1878; Capt. Edward E. Potter, commander of the United States man-of-war Constellation, which brought a cargo of food to the starving people of Ireland in 1880; the Hon. Patrick A. Collins, while he was Mayor of Boston, who, by the way, is recorded as a senator from Massachusetts, a distinction he never attained. The Hon. Richard Croker, formerly of New York, received the freedom of the city of Dublin several years ago, and has been a frequent guest at the Mansion House, although he moves about very modestly and puts on no airs.

The Lord Mayor of Dublin is elected annually on the 23d of December by the aldermen and councilmen and must be one of their number. He has a deputy who exercises authority during his illness or absence. There are fifteen aldermen and forty-five members of the council, whose authority and powers are very much the same as in our cities at home.

The headquarters of the mayor are in the City Hall, which was formerly the Royal Exchange, where merchants met daily to make bargains and sign contracts. It was used as a prison during the rebellion of ’98, and has had other experiences. As you enter the building through the vestibule you pass into a large circular room, with a dome sustained by many columns, which was formerly the trading place, but is now the anteroom to the mayor’s office and is usually filled with politicians and place hunters, which are quite as numerous in Ireland as they are anywhere else.

The name of the capital of Ireland is a compound of two Gaelic words, Dubh-Linn, which signify “the black pool,” and was bestowed upon it more than two thousand years ago. There is a complete history of the city since the year 150 A.D., when a warlike king called “Conn of a Hundred Battles,” who had long been the overlord of all Ireland, was defeated by his rival, “Mogh of Munster,” and compelled to consent to a division of territory, the line being drawn from High Street, Dublin, across to the Atlantic Ocean near Galway. Three centuries later St. Patrick stopped on his way from Wicklow to his home at Armagh. The people complained to him of the bad quality of the water they were obliged to drink and he relieved them by causing a miraculous fountain to spring up near the site of the present cathedral that bears his name. In 1152 Dublin became the seat of an archbishopric by a decree of the pope and, shortly after the landing of Henry II., became the seat of the English government. In 1210 King John visited Ireland again and conferred many privileges upon the city. In 1394 King Richard came over with an army of thirty-four thousand and lived in great splendor in Dublin. All of the Irish chieftains submitted to his conciliatory policy. The great O’Neill, King of Ulster; MacMurrough, King of Leinster; O’Brien of Munster, and O’Connor of Connaught, the four kings of Ireland, were knighted and promised allegiance, but no sooner had Richard returned to England than the country was again in confusion.

In 1409 the “pale” (or inclosure) of Ireland was established, with the city of Dublin as its capital, a narrow strip of land thirty miles long by twenty wide, which alone was under English control and whose inhabitants alone in all Ireland could be relied upon to respect the royal commands. Dublin has been besieged, invaded by pirates, has been swept with plague and pestilence, and has been fought over by rival princes, but has kept growing, and in Queen Elizabeth’s time reached such commercial importance that it was necessary to erect a custom-house and a lighthouse to show the channel to those who went down to the sea in ships. The people were famous for their wealth and fashion. An official band of musicians played three times a week through the chief streets, there was a city physician, a fire department, an attempt at sanitation and waterworks were introduced, each citizen being allowed as much water daily as would flow through a quill.

In 1661 the people of Dublin spent $150,000, which was an enormous sum in those days, to celebrate the restoration, with banquets, fireworks, a pageant, and various other evidences of rejoicing. And the king, as an acknowledgment, sent the mayor a gold chain and conferred upon him the title of “The Right Honorable, the Lord Mayor of Dublin.” Under the administration of Ormonde, Dublin expanded on all sides, and has since been growing, although from time to time there have been periods of distress and disorder.

The Four Courts, Dublin

Gradually, however, matters settled down into civilization and order. Courts were established, and an imposing building called “The Four Courts” was erected to accommodate the four divisions of the judiciary,—chancery, king’s bench, exchequer, and common pleas. In early times each term of court was opened by a religious service, when the choir of Christ Church would sing an anthem and the dean would offer prayer. One of the boundaries of the Four Courts was a dark, narrow passage, which a wit, struck with its gloom, nicknamed “Hell,” and carried out his idea by erecting at the entrance a fantastic figure supposed to represent the evil one. A Dublin newspaper of that date contains an advertisement reading as follows:

“Lodgings to let in Hell, suitable for a lawyer.”

You will remember Burns’s line: “As sure ’s the deil ’s in hell, or Dublin city.”

Dublin now has 300,000 population, and, although it is not so enterprising as Belfast, is one of the few cities in Ireland that shows growth. The population is divided as follows: Roman Catholic, 237,645; Church of Ireland, Episcopal, 41,663; Presbyterian, 4,074; Methodist, 2,342.

The means of grace are greater than the hope of glory. Promises of salvation are offered from fully eighty churches, as follows:

The “disestablishment” of the Church of Ireland, by which is meant the separation of the Protestant Episcopal denomination from the government, occurred in 1869 under the leadership of Mr. Gladstone as the price of peace and the termination of the rebellion in Ireland. It was demanded by the Roman Catholic bishops, who saw the injustice of compelling people of all denominations, without discrimination, to pay taxes to support an official church and the propaganda of a faith which they did not profess. So that branch of the Established Church of England which was found across St. George’s Channel was forcibly divorced and given alimony amounting to £8,080,000, or about $39,000,000 in American money. This represented a commutation in advance of the stipends to which the clergy of that church were entitled under the ecclesiastical laws for a term of fourteen years, as well as a vast amount of real estate and other property which belonged to the Established Church and was transferred to the new organization represented by a commission appointed for that purpose. At the same time the Presbyterian church of Ireland received £750,000, the Roman Catholic College of St. Patrick at Maynooth, £3,372,331, the board of intermediate education for school purposes, £1,000,000, the pension fund for teachers in Ireland, £1,127,150 and the Congested Districts Board, £1,500,000. Since that time these funds have increased in value considerably, and the incomes from them are devoted to the purposes named. They were paid in lieu of the annual contributions from the Established Church which had been enjoyed for many years and were capitalized on the basis of fourteen years’ income; that is, the government in order to satisfy everybody advanced in lump sums what it would have given in annual installments for the next fourteen years if the “disestablishment act” had not been passed.

The general synod which controls the affairs of the Episcopal Church of Ireland is composed of the two archbishops, the bishops, the deans, and canons of cathedrals, and archdeacons of diocese. The property of the church has advanced in value until it is now estimated at more than £12,000,000, or $60,000,000, and the income is now more than $2,000,000 a year, which is very large in proportion to its numbers.

These are the figures furnished by the different church organizations, but you will notice they exceed the total population by the latest census and therefore are only approximately correct.

At the time of the disestablishment in 1889 the adherents of the Church of Ireland numbered 693,347, which is a decrease of 112,258 since that time. This corresponds very accurately with the general decrease of the population of the island.

There are now 1,628 churches and chapels belonging to the Church of Ireland, which is an average of one for every 350 people, and from my short experience I should say that the members of the church were very negligent in attending worship.

The Roman Catholic church is the largest, the most prosperous, the most energetic, and has greater vitality than any other denomination, and is involved in all the politics and secular affairs as well as the ecclesiastical administration of the country, which is perfectly natural, because 74 per cent of the entire population belong to that denomination, and the number as reported—3,308,661—are divided among 1,084 parishes with 2,350 houses of worship, churches, and chapels.

The constant stream of emigration which flows from Ireland to the United States, Canada, Australia, and other more progressive and prosperous countries comes chiefly from the Roman Catholic church, which lost 238,646 members, or 6.7 per cent of its numbers, between the last two official censuses of the country. The Church of Ireland lost 3.2 per cent from a total of 13 per cent, the Presbyterians 0.4, while the Methodists increased 11.7 per cent, the Jews increased 119 per cent, and other religious persuasions 9.1 per cent.

But it is strange to say that the numbers of priests and monks and nuns are increasing every year, while the number of parishioners is falling off. In 1851, when the island had twice its present population, there were 2,291 priests in Ireland; in 1901 there were 3,157, of whom 4 were archbishops, 27 bishops, 392 monks, and the remainder parish priests, including chaplains and professors in educational institutions. The total of priests increased 307 during the last ten years. There are many monasteries, nunneries, and other monastic and educational houses in Ireland—93 for men and 242 for women.

The Presbyterians are third in numerical strength, wealth, and influence, and are found mostly in the northern part of the country. The membership represents the manufacturing, mercantile, and commercial classes, while the Church of Ireland represents the landowners, the government officials, the aristocracy, nobility, and the gentry. The Presbyterians have a higher average of wealth than any other denomination. Their contributions to benevolent purposes in 1907 were $1,040,000, which is very large for a population of 443,494 and 106,000 communicants. There were 96,000 children on the roll of the Presbyterian Sunday schools in 567 churches, which are distributed among 36 presbyteries and 5 synods. The minutes of the recent general assembly show 650 clergymen of that faith.

The Methodists are active and energetic, and ever since John Wesley appeared in Ireland in August, 1747, they have been strong in the faith. They are mostly in the cities among the middle classes, and the latest returns show 250 churches, 248 ministers and evangelists, 358 Sunday schools, and 26,000 scholars, for a total population of 61,255.

There are several other denominational organizations. Friends’ meeting-houses are found in several of the cities of Ireland, and the members of that faith have been here for centuries. Macroom Castle, in which William Penn was born, is still standing, and the Castle of Blackrock, the place where he embarked for America, is now a popular Sunday resort for the working people of that city.

IV
DUBLIN CASTLE

Dublin Castle does not correspond with the conventional idea of what a castle should be. It looks more like the dormitory of an ancient university or a hospital or military barracks, although there are two ancient towers in which many men have been imprisoned and in which several patriots have died, and the south side of the pile, which overlooks a beautiful lawn in the very center of Dublin, has quite the appearance of a fortress. It has been the scene of much bloody history, much treachery and cruelty, and many deeds of valor have been done in the two courtyards. One of the viceroys of the sixteenth century, in a letter to the King of England describing its partial destruction by fire, wrote that he had “lost nothing but a few barrels of powder and the worst castle in the worst situation in Christendom”.

A certain portion of the building is reserved for the official residence of the lord lieutenant, and there are long suites of quaint old rooms with antique furniture, usually disguised with its summer wrapping of pink-flowered chintz, in which kings and queens and dukes and earls have been entertained for centuries. In olden times it was the habit of the lord lieutenant to permit his guests to go to the wine cellar with glasses in their hands and drink from whatever hogshead they pleased, and it is recorded that some gentlemen who were imbibing longer than usual sent the cellarer to the Duke of Ormonde, who then occupied the office, to provide them with chairs. With that true wit that distinguishes the Irish race, high and low, the duke replied that he did not encourage his guests to drink any longer than they could stand. This custom was abandoned by the Earl of Halifax, owing to the carelessness of certain bewildered gentlemen who left the wine running out of the spigot and lost him many gallons of precious Madeira.

The present lord lieutenant, Lord Aberdeen, spends as little time in the castle as possible, because the viceregal lodge, his country residence, which is only half an hour’s drive distant in Phœnix Park, is so much more comfortable and homelike, but all state ceremonies must take place at the castle, and their excellencies and the household usually bring in their court costumes early in February, for the season commences on the second Tuesday with a levee, a drawing-room on Wednesday, a reception on Thursday, and on Friday a banquet. During the ensuing week a state ball is given, and twice a week thereafter entertainments until the 17th of March, when the season is finished with St. Patrick’s ball. The presentation of guests may be arranged for at the levees or the drawing-room, and everybody who has been presented can go to the ball. The inauguration of a new viceroy takes place in the throne-room, where also a farewell reception is held when he retires.

The castle dates back to the days when it was necessary to have some stronghold, as the king said, “to curb the city as well as to defend it,” and to provide a safe place for the custody of the royal treasure. It was located in the center of the present city of Dublin, but at the time was outside the original walls of the town, upon what is called Cork Hill, because Richard Boyle, the Earl of Cork, had his castle upon the slight elevation it now occupies. Meiller Fitzhenry, an illegitimate son of Henry II., designed and began the building. It was finished in 1213, and from that period has been the center of Irish history. Very little of the original structure remains—only a portion of the walls. The towers have been cut down and modernized. One of them is now used for a supper-room for social occasions, and a kitchen is on the lower floor. The other, which was originally a prison, and is the most complete surviving fragment of the ancient fortress, is a repository for historical documents and the records of the government for the last four or five centuries. There are three circular rooms, one above the other; the walls are nineteen feet thick in places, and four or five long, narrow cells are built into them like recesses and lighted only by a narrow strip at the far end. One of these cells has a secret chamber hidden in the wall, and accessible only by a revolving door, which is difficult to distinguish from the rest of the stone.

The Castle, Dublin; Official Residence of the Lord Lieutenant and Headquarters of the Government

The tower has not been used as a prison since 1798 and 1803, the rebellions of Emmet and Lord Edward Fitzgerald, and the documents relating to their conspiracy are preserved there in the very cells where the men who were convicted by them lay awaiting trial and execution. The late Mr. Lecky, the historian, searched them thoroughly, and gave a surprising account of the character of the private papers that were seized with the effects of the patriots in those days. Love letters, poems, reflections on various subjects, rules of conduct, maxims of the sages, drafts of speeches, and proclamations in soaring language, and many attempts at literary work are mixed up with the reports of spies, informers, detectives, and officials,—some of them from comrades whose treachery was never suspected and which Mr. Lecky was not permitted to publish even at this late day. Some people think these malicious and incriminating documents should be destroyed lest they may sometime come to light and ruin the reputation of men who are highly esteemed by their fellow countrymen. But no one seems willing to give the instructions.

In 1583 a “trial by combat” took place in the courtyard of the castle between Connor MacCormack O’Connor and Teague Kilpatrick O’Connor to settle the responsibility for the murder of a clansman. The weapons were sword and shield. The lord justices and the councillors, the governor-general, the sheriffs, and other officials were present to witness the trial. As was the custom and usage in trials by combat, each man was made to take an oath that he believed his quarrel just, and was ready to maintain it to the death. After a fierce struggle Teague cut off the head of his cousin and presented it on the point of his sword to the lord justices. For many generations the Irish parliament used to assemble at the castle. The first was called in 1328, another in 1585, another in 1639, and the accounts of the expenses of the lord lieutenant show that during the two weeks that parliament was in session the viceregal household consumed ten bullocks, forty sheep, sixteen hogsheads of beer, and various other refreshments to a similar extent.

Oliver Cromwell, when in Dublin, resided at the castle, and in 1654 his youngest son was born there. While Henry Cromwell was viceroy he was driven from the castle and went to live at the viceregal lodge. In 1689, after the battle of the Boyne, in which William of Orange defeated James Stuart, the latter took possession of the castle, but slept there only one night.

The court of Dublin has been insignificant but lively, and has reflected the characteristics of the Irish nobility, who were as fond of a frolic as they were of a fight, and never allowed their sense of decorum or the laws of etiquette to interfere with their pleasure. A hundred years ago ladies, upon being presented for the first time, were solemnly kissed by the viceroy, which was more or less agreeable to him, according to the age and attractions of his guests. One of them who was noted for his wit remarked that he got his kisses as a spendthrift borrows from a usurer, “part in old wine, part in dubious paintings, and part in bright gold and silver.” With all its wit and brilliancy the court has at times been noted for a low state of morality, and at one period that portion of the castle which contains the state apartments was nicknamed “hell’s half-acre” by a satirist.

A figure of Justice which adorns the pediment of the main gate has been the object of much wit and satire for two centuries. Dean Swift once declared that she sat with her face to the viceroy and her back to the people. There are a few good portraits and other pictures in the residence portion of the building, including some pretty medallions in the wall of the throne-room, which are credited to Angelica Kauffman, but nobody knows when or how she happened to paint them.

The mantel of one of the rooms is of black Spanish oak taken from the cabin of the flagship of the Spanish Armada which was wrecked on the Irish coast after the great sea battle of 1588.

The finest of all the rooms is St. Patrick’s Hall, which was designed by the great Lord Chesterfield when he was lord lieutenant of Ireland, and has always been much admired by architects because of its proportions and its lofty painted ceilings representing events in Irish history. The banners of the twenty-four knights of St. Patrick are suspended from either side, and the crimson draperies and upholstering of Irish poplin give the apartment an attractive color. Duplicates of these banners hang in the choir of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, where the knights used to meet before 1869, but they have always had their headquarters in the castle, and the Ulster king of arms, the executive officer of the order, is the master of ceremonies at the castle, senior officer in the household of the lord lieutenant, the highest authority on rank and precedent in Ireland, and his seal is necessary to give legal value to patents of Irish peerages. He decides all questions of etiquette, nominates the persons who are presented at the viceregal drawing-room, arranges for all ceremonies, and in processions of state he rides or walks immediately in front of the lord lieutenant, carrying the sword of state as the emblem of the authority of the king.

The office has been in existence since the Middle Ages. Its incumbent was formerly the custodian of the arms, the chief of the heralds, and the keeper of the royal jewels. He has an office in what is known as Bedford Tower, immediately facing the principal entrance to the viceroy’s residence, with a large suite of rooms for his own use, and two or three clerks to look after his business. Otherwise the office carries no compensation except £20 a year and such few fees as are paid for searching the records of the Irish peerage and furnishing certificates of pedigree and title similar to those that are sought at the College of Heralds in London.

The office was held for many years by Sir Bernard Burke, the most eminent of modern genealogists, the originator and author of “Burke’s Peerage,” which is authority on all questions affecting the nobility. His successor was Sir Arthur Vicar, son of the late Colonel Vicar, who commanded the Sixty-first Irish Fusiliers, and is a cousin of half the nobility of Ireland. Sir Arthur is a bachelor, a member of the principal clubs of London and Dublin, president of the Kildare Archæological Society and of the “Ex-Libris Society,” whose members follow the fad of collecting book plates. He is the highest authority on questions affecting the Irish nobility since the death of Sir Bernard Burke, and is the editor of “Lodge’s Peerage,” a volume which relates exclusively to them. Sir Arthur has been a great favorite with everybody. He is an amiable, gentle, witty man, with winning manner, a charming conversationalist, has a keen sense of humor, and has been the confidant of half the peers of Ireland in their sorrows and their difficulties.

In October, 1907, when preparations were being made to invest Lord Castledown as a knight of St. Patrick, it was discovered that the regalia of that order was missing, and no trace has ever been found of it, nor have the detectives obtained a single clew to the mystery. The jewels have an intrinsic value of quarter of a million dollars, but the historical and sentimental value of the articles stolen cannot be estimated. They were kept in a safe in the office of Sir Arthur Vicar as master at arms at the right of the entrance to his private quarters, and the room was usually occupied in the daytime by two clerks and carefully locked at night. This valuable property had been kept in that place for more than two hundred years, and nobody ever dreamed that it might be stolen. The discovery, which was kept secret for several months at the request of the police, caused a postponement of the ceremony, and the chief secretary for Ireland called for the resignation of Sir Arthur as master at arms on the ground that he failed to take proper precautions for the safety of the valuables in question. He was not accused or even suspected of having participated in the robbery, or having any knowledge of it, but there cannot be the slightest doubt that the theft was committed by some person familiar with affairs in the castle, and hence all the employees, everybody, from Lord Aberdeen down, has shared in the humiliation. Sir Arthur Vicar refused to resign, demanded a court of inquiry, and selected Timothy Healy, a member of parliament of the nationalist party from Dublin, as his counsel, and has ever since been appealing for vindication.

V.
THE REDEMPTION OF IRELAND

While the circumstances of the agricultural class in Ireland are by no means ideal, a great deal has been done to improve them. At the present rate of progress, however, it will take from twenty to twenty-five years, if not much longer, to accomplish the results intended by the Wyndham Land Act of 1903, which was expected to bring about the Irish millennium. That act provides that an owner of a large estate may sell to his tenants the holdings they occupy, and his untenanted land to any one who desires to buy it, in such tracts and at such prices as may be agreed upon, corresponding to the income now derived from that particular property. No landlord can sell a few acres here and there of good land under this act, although, of course, he is at liberty to dispose of any part of his estate at any time at any price that he may consider proper. But the terms and privileges of the Wyndham Act can only be enjoyed by a community of tenants in the purchase of the whole or a considerable portion of an estate. A board of commissioners which sits in the old-fashioned mansion in which the Duke of Wellington was born, on Merrion Street, Dublin, is authorized to use its discretion in the application of the law and in granting its privileges to those for whose benefit it is intended. Nothing can be done without their approval. The landlord and the tenants may arrange their own bargains to their own satisfaction, but they must be submitted to the board before they are carried out.

When such agreements are reached and approved by the commission,—including the area sold, the price, and other terms,—the government is expected to furnish the purchase money from the public treasury. The landlord is entitled to receive the cash in full, and the tenant, who pays nothing, gives a mortgage, as we would call it, upon the property to the government for sixty-eight years or less, and agrees to pay an annual installment of 3¼ per cent of the purchase price, of which 2¾ per cent is interest and ½ per cent goes into a sinking fund to cover the purchase money at the end of sixty-eight years. A purchaser may pay off the mortgage at any time he pleases, and receive a clear title to the land; or he may sell it whenever he chooses, subject to the mortgage, which follows the land and not the person. If he is unable to pay his annuities, the government can turn him out and dispose of the land, subject to the same terms and conditions, to another person. It can make no allowance for crop failures or cattle diseases. It cannot extend or modify its credits.

Nearly all of the landlords are willing to sell their estates; many are glad to get rid of them, because the average tenantry in Ireland are a very determined class, and are always making trouble. There have been almost continuous disturbances over land questions of one form or another in Ireland since the beginning of time. The rents are low compared with the American standard, but have been difficult to collect, and when there is a failure of crops they cannot be collected at all. The landlords complain that all the laws that have been enacted of late years are entirely in the interest of the tenants; that the landlord has no show at all. And perhaps that is true, because public sympathy is invariably with the tenants, and they cast many votes, while the landlord has only one, even if he tries to vote at all.

Since 1881 the land courts have adjusted the rents of 360,135 farmer tenants, involving 10,731,804 acres of land. The total rents paid for these lands annually before adjustment was £7,206,079. They were reduced by judicial order to a total of £5,715,158, a difference of about $7,500,000 a year in American money, in favor of the tenants.

Therefore it is perfectly natural that landowners—and especially those who have had a good deal of trouble with their tenants—are anxious to dispose of their estates for cash, which they can invest to much better advantage. The Duke of Leinster, for example, who is a minor, has realized more than £800,000 in cash, which his trustees have invested in brewery stocks, railway bonds, and other securities which pay regular dividends and give him no anxiety.

Mr. Bailey, one of the commissioners, told me that the good estates have been disposed of without difficulty. The disposition of the poor land has been more difficult, because the tenants are not as eager to get it, the owner is not always satisfied with the price, and the commission is not willing to make advances upon small bits of land among the bogs and rocks and other tracts of unfertile soil that would not be considered good security by anybody. The commissioners have treated these transactions very much as they would have done if they were mortgage bankers. They have refused to make advances on land that a banker would not have considered good security. They have not been willing to make advances on farms that cannot be made to pay. There have been complications in certain cases that have perplexed them, but, as a rule, the law has been working out in a most satisfactory and gratifying manner. The chief object of the commission and the purpose of the law has been to break up the great estates of Ireland so far as possible in farms of not more than one hundred acres, and sell them to the occupants, so as to create a nation of peasant proprietors, and that, he says, is being accomplished more rapidly than any one had reason to expect. Of course Mr. Bailey does not pretend that everybody is satisfied. That would be impossible. The millennium has not yet come, and the Wyndham Act has not brought it, although it has undoubtedly done more than any previous legislation to promote peace in this distracted country, and offers promises of future prosperity and contentment.

Naturally some of the landowners have not been willing to sell their property, and their tenants have been trying to force them to do so. That accounts for the “cattle driving” and similar disturbances that you read about in the newspaper cablegrams from Ireland. It is to be regretted that the tendency of the newspapers is to publish sensational occurrences and unfortunate events. If a man commits a great crime it is advertised from one end of the world to the other. If he does a good deed very little is said about it, and a false impression concerning conditions in Ireland has been created by the widespread publication of every little outrage or disturbance that occurs over there, while the enormous usefulness and the satisfactory application of the Wyndham Land Act has been almost entirely neglected by newspaper writers.

There have, however, been a good many little disturbances occasioned by the efforts of the tenants of certain estates, particularly those that are now devoted to cattle-breeding, to force their landlords to divide up the pastures and sell them. At present there is more money in the cattle and sheep business than in any other kind of farming in Ireland, and, as you drive out into the interior, you can see the loveliest pastures in the world filled with fat, sleek animals feeding upon the luscious grass. I do not believe there are richer or more beautiful pastures in any land, and Irish beef and mutton command a premium because of their flavor and tenderness. Hence prosperous cattle-breeders cannot be blamed for refusing to sell their pastures and go out of business, and there is no law to compel them to do so. But the rough and reckless elements in the villages, and in many cases among their own tenantry, often try to persecute them by cattle and sheep “driving,” as it is called, until they are willing to cry quits. The popular method is to break down the gates or the hedges,—they do not have fences in Ireland,—turn the cattle and sheep into the road, and run them as far as possible away from their proper pastures, scattering them over the country. This is done in the night, and the next morning the owner is compelled to take such measures to recover as many of the strays as he can. Various means are adopted to prevent such outrages. Armed guards are employed who defend their cattle, sometimes at the cost of life and bloodshed, which, of course, provokes bad feeling and greater trouble. Hundreds of men have been arrested and punished by long terms of imprisonment, but “cattle-driving” still goes on in various parts of the country with some serious results. But it is comparatively insignificant when compared with the great good that is being accomplished by the breaking up of the big estates whose owners are willing to dispose of them.

Thus far the Wyndham Act has been carried out without much friction; the chief difficulty having arisen from the eagerness of the landlords to dispose of their estates, which is so much greater than anticipated, that the funds provided have not been sufficient, and the landlords who have sold their property have been compelled to wait for their pay. In November, 1908, Mr. Augustine Birrell, chief secretary for Ireland in the British cabinet, introduced into the House of Commons a bill for the appropriation of more than $760,000,000, to be raised by an issue of bonds to pay for the estates that have already been sold and for those that may be sold in the future. That amount of money he asserted would be necessary to carry out the plans of the government under the Land Act of 1903.

This proposition of Mr. Birrell is without doubt the most stupendous munificence ever offered by any government to its subjects. The money thus appropriated does not pay for any service performed. It is a direct appropriation from the public treasury to the people of Ireland for the simple purpose of relieving their poverty and placing them in circumstances which will permit them to enjoy life without the hardships and sufferings and fruitless labor which they and their forefathers have for generations endured.

The advances of the British government to the Irish peasants, if this bill becomes a law, will reach nearly $1,000,000,000, but it is to be repaid by them in small installments. Mr. Birrell, in his explanation of the purpose of the bill to the House of Commons, stated that up to the 31st of October £25,000,000 in round numbers (which amounts to about $125,000,000 in our money) had already been expended by the estates commissioners in purchasing farms from the large landholders in Ireland for the benefit of the tenants who occupy them, and that £52,000,000 (which is the equivalent of about $260,000,000) is due to other landowners who have sold their estates under the Act of 1903. These transactions have been completed with the exception of payment of the price.

The transactions concluded under the Land Act of 1903 up to Oct. 31, 1908, provide farms for about 126,000 Irish families, at a cost of $385,000,000 to the British treasury, which is to be refunded by the owners of the farms in sixty-eight years, with interest at 3¼ per cent. Three-fourths of 1 per cent of this annual interest, to be paid by the man who owns the farm, goes into a sinking fund to meet the principal of bonds which have been issued to provide the purchase money. The remaining 2½ per cent is paid by the farmer in lieu of rent, and is used to meet the annual interest upon the bonds. Thus the farmer gets his land in perpetuity by the payment of sixty-eight annual installments of an amount equal to 3¼ per cent of its present value. The average cost of the 126,000 farms thus far purchased is $1,790.

The British government advances the money and becomes responsible for the payment of the interest and principal. The annual interest is only a trifle. In some cases it is only a shilling a week, and it runs up to as high as a pound or two a week in special cases, the average being estimated at $59 a year for the 126,000 farms, or $5 a month for the purchase of a farm, and whatever improvements may happen to be upon the land. If these improvements are not adequate, if the house is not comfortable, and if barns, stables, fences, and other permanent improvements are needed, the government advances the money to provide for them upon the same terms,—sixty-eight annual payments of 3¼ per cent of the cost.