THE
Cathedral Towns
AND INTERVENING PLACES OF
ENGLAND, IRELAND,
AND
SCOTLAND:
A DESCRIPTION OF CITIES, CATHEDRALS, LAKES, MOUNTAINS,
RUINS, AND WATERING-PLACES.
BY
THOMAS W. SILLOWAY
AND
LEE L. POWERS.
"A dwarf standing on the shoulders of a giant may see farther than
the giant himself."--DIDIMUS STELLA.
BOSTON:
CUPPLES AND HURD.
94 BOYLSTON STREET.
1887.
_Copyright, 1883_,
BY A. WILLIAMS AND COMPANY.
THIRD EDITION.
UNIVERSITY PRESS:
JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.
TO
LUTHER GARDNER ROBBINS,
THE GOOD COMPANION AND FRIEND OF ONE OF THE AUTHORS
FOR MORE THAN A QUARTER OF A CENTURY,
AND OF THE OTHER FOR SOME YEARS,
This Volume
IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED AS A SMALL TOKEN
OF REGARD AND ESTEEM.
INTRODUCTORY.
The Authors, having travelled somewhat leisurely over important parts
of Ireland and Scotland, and in a yet more deliberate and critical
manner over the principal parts of England,--observing not only salient
points in the life of each country, but at the same time passing in
review their history and work,--and believing that a synopsis of what
their New England eyes, ears, and minds saw, heard, and discovered,
would be acceptable to the public, one of them prepared a series of
articles which were published in one of the weekly papers of Boston.
The interest awakened, and a belief that these reminiscences should be
put into a more permanent form, have inclined the authors to amend the
articles as the case seemed to demand, and they are thus presented in
this volume.
When the original papers were prepared, a departure from the usual
custom of writers on travel was made. Instead of simply recording
personal observations, the labor was extended by the incorporation of
historic and biographic facts, the authors hoping that, while their
work would be valuable and interesting as a compend to those familiar
with the facts, it would also be entertaining and instructive to that
large class, in all communities, who are without the means of obtaining
such information. Care was therefore exercised to obtain data verified
by the testimony of various authors.
The articles having been published in narrative style, it has been
thought well to present them again in that form; and the authors wish
to say by way of apology, if one be needed, that the opinions and
criticisms expressed are such as impressed their own minds, and are not
reflections of the minds of others. With this explanation, and craving
the indulgence and patience of the reader, they send forth their
volume.
CONTENTS.
Ireland.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. NEW YORK TO QUEENSTOWN, CORK 3
II. BLARNEY, KILLARNEY, THE LAKES 18
III. MUCKROSS ABBEY, LIMERICK, DUBLIN 36
IV. WATERFORD, CARRICK-ON-SUIR, KILKENNY, DUBLIN
AGAIN 57
England.
V. LIVERPOOL, CHESTER, SHREWSBURY, WORCESTER,
HEREFORD 75
VI. GLOUCESTER, BRISTOL, BATH, SALISBURY, SARUM,
AMESBURY, STONEHENGE, WILTON 95
VII. BEMERTON, WINCHESTER, READING, NEWBURY 114
VIII. LONDON 129
IX. OXFORD 161
X. WARWICK, STRATFORD-ON-AVON, LEAMINGTON,
KENILWORTH, COVENTRY, BIRMINGHAM, LICHFIELD 167
XI. STOKE-UPON-TRENT, STAFFORDSHIRE, MANCHESTER,
LEEDS, CARLISLE 187
Scotland.
XII. GLASGOW, ROB-ROY COUNTRY, THE LAKES,
CALLENDER, STIRLING 199
XIII. STIRLING CASTLE, EDINBURGH 212
XIV. MELROSE, ABBOTSFORD 233
England.
XV. NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE, DURHAM 243
XVI. YORKSHIRE, YORK, SHEFFIELD, LINCOLN 253
XVII. BOSTON, PETERBORO, LYNN 270
XVIII. WELLS, NORWICH, ELY 282
XIX. CAMBRIDGE 295
XX. LONDON, WINDSOR, STOKE POGES 315
XXI. LONDON, HAMPTON COURT, ROCHESTER,
CHATHAM, CANTERBURY 328
XXII. DOVER, BRIGHTON, CALAIS 343
INDEX 357
IRELAND.
CATHEDRAL TOWNS.
CHAPTER I.
NEW YORK TO QUEENSTOWN--CORK.
On Saturday the 12th day of April, 1878, at half-past 3 P.
M., the good Inman steamer City of Richmond, with us on board,
loosed her cables, and the floating palace moved out into North River
majestically,--as only such vessels can move,--passed the forts, and
sailed on, till at dusk, yet before dark, the Highlands of Neversink--a
misnomer to us then--retired from view, and, Byron-like, we felt and
said,
"My native land, good-night."
Suppered, and enjoyed the look of that waste of sky and waters till ten
o'clock, and then consigned ourselves to the embrace of
"Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep."
The morrow was Sunday. We were up betimes, and on deck for new views,
fresh air, and to see how things compared with those of last night. All
was well,--comparatively smooth sea, and good breeze. We had sailed
224 miles, and so were that much from home. Breakfasted, and on deck
again,--this time to see nearly all our cabin passengers, about one
hundred complete. They appeared well, and we thought our lot had been
cast in a pleasant place; and so it proved. There were conspicuous
the essentials of comfort for the voyage,--among them inclined-back,
cane-finished lounging-chairs, and good blanket robes, brought by
providential people who had travelled before, or who had friends who
had journeyed and in whose advice they had confidence. No matter if it
be July or August, it is a good friend who effectually advises one to
carry a great coat, shawl, or blanket robe.
The sun shone bright, and the inhabitants of the City of Richmond
were happy. At 10 A. M. came the roll-call of sailors and
table-waiters, arranged in squads at special points. An officer and
the captain passed in front, the name of each was distinctly called,
the old, old response, _Here_, passed along the line, and the work
was done. Of course a large part of the passengers were near by,
inspecting, and they were presuming enough to think all was going on
right, and the work well done.
Next came an officer giving information that divine service was to be
held in the cabin at 11 A. M., and inviting singers to be at
a certain location. One of our party, having before tried the ship's
piano, was installed as pianist. At the hour appointed, nearly all on
board, including the sailors, had assembled, and it seemed very like
a church meeting. The pulpit was a desk placed on a common table,
covered with a cloth; a Bible and prayer-book were on it, and our
captain officiated,--a man of fine physique, apparently about sixty
years old, and, but for the absence of clerical robes, very bishop-like
in appearance. He went finely through the service of the Church of
England, employing about an hour, and concluded by saying: "I am now to
preach my usual sermon, which is to take up a collection for the widows
and orphans of sailors." A good charity,--and a befitting response was
made.
At one o'clock, dinner; next, various methods of using the time, the
principal of which was reading or lounging about decks.
Soon came a change in conditions. Wind breezed up and we had more
than a fifteen-mile power; and so sails were in order--our first
sight of operations of the kind. Next came white-capped waves; and at
5 P. M. had come those indescribably hateful movements of
the ship, that many a one has felt before,--down first at bow, and
next up at stern, and _vice versa_ continuing. "Confound," said they
of the physically weakening brigade, "the deliberation, yet fearful
determination and success with which these movements are made,"--as
though transforming us first into lead and then into feathers; and
soon follows an aggravating roll, playing with us as though we were
alternately puff-balls and cannon-shot. But neither waves nor ship
were to be _confounded_ to accommodate us. Instead, both ship and sea
appeared to be in league with the old-fashioned adversary. It seemed,
to the subjugated ones, as though his Satanic Majesty was down under
the propellers, with a mighty power straightening himself up, and
lifting as only he could do; and then, as aid, there appeared to be an
imp scarcely less powerful, pulling down at the bow, and in addition,
many a fellow of like nature under each side of the ship, lifting up
and letting go alternately. What masters of the art! How easily they
did it!
Disgusted with the company and their doings, one after the other of
our associates paid tribute to whom tribute was due; and what was left
of our disgusted organisms went below as best they could. And here the
curtain drops; for, though the spirit was willing, the flesh was weak.
It is 6 P. M., Sunday. We were told that the winds increased
to a gale; rain, snow-squalls and hail came into the fray. The vessel
staggered; the stanch bulwarks were but a partial barrier to that
fury-lashed sea; and the decks were often swept with the newest of new
brooms.
Next in our record is Friday P. M. Fair weather. Ship has come
out ahead. Imps and their master are defeated and gone; the decks, as
by talismanic transformation, are peopled again with the old brigade;
and then for hours is in order a statement of what each has done and
has not done. Well, the history of one lot of mortals, conditioned
thus, is that of all.
It is a question often arising with people who have never been to
sea, how passengers manage to occupy their time and break up the
monotony of the passage. On a long voyage, days and hours doubtless
move sluggishly, but on a simple passage to England this is not so.
A thousand things, that on land would be of no account, on shipboard
attract attention and please. "Men are but children of a larger
growth," and there are playthings in abundance. There's a discount
on reserve, and at sea a general freedom in conversation obtains;
aristocracy is at a discount, and democracy at a premium. Reading,
lolling around in a delightfully don't-care sort of a way, are done in
first-class manner; smoking, cards, and checkers occupy some, while
others are busy lookers-on. Talking things over,--politics, religion,
science, and a large amount of nothing in particular; promenading;
watching steamers and sailing vessels; observing schools of fish, or
single ones, ocean currents, peculiar clouds, and work the sailors
are doing; eating four meals, or eating none, but instead hating the
thought of increasing one's self,--these and like things fill the eight
or ten days. And so we were entertained and employed to the journey's
end,--greatly interested in the chart at the head of the companion-way,
which at noon daily had marked upon it a distinct line showing the
direction and extent of sea passed over the preceding twenty-four hours.
So our voyage continued till the next Sunday, at 6 P. M.,
when the monotony was broken by one of the officers confidentially
saying he thought he saw land. Of all intelligence to a tourist this
is most welcome. One of the passengers--nameless here--looked to the
left far ahead, and really saw what the officers did; but to his less
disciplined or sea-educated eyes it appeared to be a ship, and so
he declared; but in a half-hour more sounded from stem to stern the
intelligence of discovered land, and then the fancied ship had been
transformed into a dim-appearing, small mountain. It was the Skellig
Rocks, the first-seen land of Ireland, fifty miles from Cape Clear.
Passing on came to view Dursey Island, with its Bull, Cow, and Calf
rocks, and then--alas for us waiters and watchers!--night came and we
must forbear.
At 4 o'clock A. M. on that fine Easter Monday morning, April
21, a good company on deck saw plainly on the left, and not far away,
the veritable land. There lay in the distance the old mountains of
Munster, and Fastnet Rock, a pyramidal formation standing majestic in
the water five miles or so out from the high, dark, rocky coast. Next a
lighthouse came into view, desolate but surrounded by an indescribable
beauty.
Soon we pass into George's Channel. The land is treeless, but clothed
with elegant verdure. The surf beats wildly and unhindered against
its rocky ramparts. Here and there, nestling cosily on the hillsides,
are small Irish cabins, one-story high, built of stone, plastered and
whitewashed, having thatched roofs, a few small windows, and a single
door. Next appear a few Martello Towers of stone, some twenty-five feet
in diameter, and perhaps forty feet high,--designed as fortresses,
having formerly, if not at present, cannon on their level, and, it may
be, revolving tops. And now appear fresh evidences of civilization,
in the fishing-boats with tan-colored sails; and next we arrive at a
little hamlet, Crooked Haven, the seat of the telegraph to Queenstown.
We next pass Kinsale Head; in less than an hour more Daunt's Rock, with
its bell-buoy; and after that a sail of five miles carries us to the
opening into Queenstown Harbor, and we are at the end of the voyage.
It is now 5 o'clock A. M. Our ship for the first time in
eight days shuts off steam; her pace slackens; and--as though while
not tired, yet willing to rest--she floats leisurely. How majestic and
calm! The small "tender" steamer is alongside, and now what scenes
begin! How others retire before the hurry, the bustle, the good-nature
everywhere manifest. A veritable "Paradise Regained." No matter for
corns trodden upon, nor lack of respect for dignity or age. Every one
destined for a landing minds his own business. Never was work of the
kind done better. All the Queenstown passengers on board, the tender
starts for the desired haven.
The City of Richmond starts her machinery, and is soon lost to view on
her journey of eighteen hours to Liverpool; but we on board the small
steamer are full of admiration for the new sights and sounds. Have just
passed through the great opening two miles across, and one mile deep or
through, and so are inside the harbor lines. In passing, on our left
were high, verdant hills. On the right were higher hills, crowned with
a few chalk-white buildings,--the lighthouse and its keeper's dwelling,
the grounds enclosed with a wall, white like the buildings, resembling
fairy-work in that setting of emerald. And now has opened an expanse of
great extent and rare beauty. "No finer harbor in the world can there
be," think and ejaculate all, at that early day, when few if any of the
party have travelled; and "No finer in the world is there," say we now,
when we have gone a good part of the world over.
To the right, encircling and on a magnificent scale, stretch the green
hills on a curved line, half enclosing a basin five miles long and
three wide. As before named the hills are grandly verdant, and dotted
over here and there with single stone shanties, as white as snow.
Scattered about promiscuously in profusion is the Furze--a shrub from
two to six feet high, in general appearance not unlike our savin--in
full bloom, with a profusion of chrome-yellow blossoms, fragrant and
like the odor of a ripe peach. A few groves intermingle, and thus a
finished look is given, inclining the beholder to call all perfect and
needing no change. To the left is a scene more broken in outline and
less elevated and extended. There is a sublime repose and feminine
beauty to the right and around the shore to the town; but on the left
is a masculine effect, and a sort of vigorous business air obtains. In
the foreground of this side of the harbor, and not far from the shore,
are three islands, on which are the barracks, the penitentiary for
eight hundred convicts, and the naval storehouses, four or five stories
high. These are modern and appropriate-looking stone edifices, built,
as all such establishments are, "regardless of expense." In front of
the opening to the harbor, and two miles away, lies the town itself,
containing 10,039 inhabitants, and till 1849 called the Cove of Cork.
In that year, in commemoration of a visit of Queen Victoria, it took
the name of Queenstown.
We are for the first time inside a harbor of the land of the shamrock,
and beholding the soil of the Emerald Isle. Only one who has sailed and
waited and, Columbus-like, watched the approach to land, and has read
and thought well about the Old Country, can know the feelings that fill
the breast of one about to land. This pleasant anticipation is here,
for fancy resolves itself into reality and fact. He is about to "know
how it is himself," and as no one can know it for him.
The town lay stretched out in front, right and left, rising by abrupt
terraces or cross streets--parallel to the water--to a great height,
with a few streets leading upward. The wharves are of wood; and these,
which partake largely of the nature of a quay along the line of the
water, are old and more or less decayed in appearance, as are many of
the buildings in the vicinity. The houses to the right of our landing
and along the shore, and continuing up quite a distance on the hill,
are of the usual stone construction, being mostly one or two stories
high. The streets are very narrow, and far from being cleanly kept.
The rear yards of the houses, as they back up against the hill, are
very small; and as one walks through an elevated street, and looks down
into these contracted and filthy back-yards and on the roofs of the
houses, he is led to pity the occupants, for there is presented the
evidence of poverty and wretchedness. To the left of the landing, and
above this portion of the town, is a better population and condition.
The principal avenue and business portion of the place is at hand. A
wide, clean, and properly built thoroughfare, used more or less as a
market-place and stand for teams, stretches for a fourth of a mile,
with stores of fair capacity and good variety, and a few are of more
than average style. The buildings are nearly all of stone, light in
color, and three or four stories high.
From the nature of the land, and intermingled as the buildings above
the main street are with gardens and trees, a picturesque appearance
is presented; and the view of the great basin or harbor, from these
elevated streets is indescribably grand. The streets here, and
especially the continuing roads, are well macadamized and clean.
At the centre of the town a large and elegant Roman Catholic Cathedral,
built of dark limestone and in the decorated Gothic style of
architecture, is about finished.
One peculiarity of the place is a lack of fruit-trees in the gardens.
The common dark-leaved ivy abounds, and is found growing wild on
road-walls, and along the roadsides in profusion. As a front-yard
or lawn shrub, fuchsias, such as are raised in America in pots, are
common, and often in large clumps like our elder, six or eight feet
high.
Another peculiarity is an absence of clothes-lines. Instead, the
practice prevails of spreading newly washed clothes on the grass, with
small stones to keep them from being blown away.
Another thing of interest is the common and general use of diminutive
donkeys to draw small carts, used by boys and girls, from eight to
sixteen years old, for common porterage. They are also used for
milk-wagons. Each wagon has an oaken tank, holding about half a barrel;
straight-sided, larger at the bottom than at the top, having a cover
and padlock; the measure hanging on one side. There is straw behind,
and at the front end the boy or girl is driving. These donkeys are
usually of a cream-color or gray. All are cheap and coarse-looking,
and a majority of them are aged, with their hair two thirds worn off.
They are the very personification of good-nature, and do their work
well. So far as value is concerned they are "worth their weight in
gold," but they cost, when in best condition, not more than ten dollars
each. Witnessing their patience, the great services they render, and
the small amount of recompense they have while living, we incline to
the opinion that, as a result of the working of the laws of cause
and effect, there may be expected for them good conditions in their
Hereafter. They are angels in disguise, and we wish they were in use in
America as commonly as they are here.
Other objects that attracted attention were the public wells built in
especial parts of the town. They are enclosed springs of water, or
it may be reservoirs supplied by pipes; the places are from six to
ten feet square, and only a few feet deep, a descent to which is made
by stone steps into the small, stone-covered rooms. The people using
them for the most part carry the water to their houses in earthen jars
holding two or three gallons each. The water is carried by girls and
women, seldom by boys and men; at least we could see none engaged in
the service. As may be imagined, considering the filthy nature of some
of the people who thus obtain the water, it is necessary to have a
placard declaring the enforcement of law on any one who dips a dirty
or questionable article into one of the wells, or interferes with the
purity of the water.
Signs render a large service in the place, and some of them make queer
statements,--at least so they appear to Americans. For instance, one
reads:
HERE MARGARET AHEARN IS LICENSED TO SELL TOBACCO.
The street letter-boxes had this inscription:
CLEARED AT 8 A.M. AND 6 P.M., AND ON SUNDAYS
AT 5 P.M.
At 2 P. M. this same day with some reluctance we left what
was to us a place of interest, and took the nice little black-painted
steamer Erin, for a sail from this Lower Harbor of Cork, as it formerly
was called, to the city itself.
The journey, covering a distance of eleven miles, may be made by rail
or steamer. The wise, pleasure-seeking tourist goes by river. On board
the little steamer, having paid a shilling (twenty-four cents) for the
passage, valises at our side,--and that is all of our baggage, or as
we ought now, being in foreign lands, to term it, _luggage_,--we take
our last admiring look at this queen of harbors, and with inexpressible
reluctance bid adieu to its beautiful scenery, submitting to our fate
in anticipation of another visit, as the steamer that takes us to
America will be here for a day to receive the mails. We steam to the
left end of the basin, and, rounding to the right, pass into the lovely
River Lee,--an extremely picturesque stream averaging here perhaps a
quarter of a mile in width.
The weather is cool, but pleasant for the season. Vegetation in certain
respects is three or four weeks in advance of that about Boston. This
applies to grass, lilacs and shrubs of the kind, and spring flowers;
but garden vegetables, from planted seeds, are not at all in advance.
In fact, up to this time, April 22, little planting has been done. The
atmosphere of the southern parts of Ireland and of England being very
damp, and the entire winter mild, certain kinds of vegetation advance;
but cultivated work has no especial advantage over New England, where
the first fruits of the gardener's labor are gathered as early as in
those islands.
But to return from our digression, we proceed on our short voyage to
Cork, and are now on our passage up the River Lee. The scenery on the
right bank, on the Queenstown side, is somewhat hilly and of pleasing
aspect, though not especially striking or unusual; but that of the
opposite shore is elegant and picturesque in the extreme. About a mile
from the mouth of the river is the beautiful village of Monkstown, a
semi-watering-place, having tourists' hotels and a castle. Monkstown
Castle is in ruins, having been built in the year 1636. It is related
that Anastatia Goold, a woman of masculine qualities, during the
absence of her husband in Spain, conceived the idea of building this as
a family mansion, and to pay for it, hit upon the scheme of supplying
her workmen with their family stores. She purchased them at wholesale,
and retailed them at a profit which paid the entire cost of the castle,
with the exception of a single groat (eight cents of our money).
The river above this widens into a small lake, and is called Loch
Mahon. Three and a half miles farther up we arrive at the smart little
village of Glenbrook; and one and a half miles farther, we come to
another pretty town, called Passage.
Soon appears Blackrock, a small promontory, on which is a structure
suggesting an ancient castle, built on a tongue of land extending
into the clear water of the river. The mansion, however, is old only
in style and outline, for it is of modern construction. Blackrock
is supposed to be the place from which William Penn, the founder of
Pennsylvania, set sail, A. D. 1682, landing after a passage of
six weeks.
We were for the hour sumptuously entertained. Small castles, coves,
headlands, near and distant scenery, and a luxurious vegetation lent
a fascination and charm, which was but the beginning of a series of
similar entertainments, not to end till after the first of September.
CORK.
Arrived at the castle, not far in the distance is seen, through the
opening of the hills making the river banks, the shipping of the city
of Cork, which is practically the capital of South Ireland. We find it
a large commercial metropolis, built closely on both sides of the River
Lee. The latter is parted at the city, and thus the left side of Cork
stands mainly on an island, connected with the other side by nine stone
or iron bridges. It has in all a population of 97,887, and is the third
city of Ireland in importance and commerce, being excelled only by
Dublin and Belfast.
On one side of the river as we pass into the city, at our left hand,
are shipyards, repair and dry docks, and a vast amount of work of
the kind is done. It may be added, there is presented to view in
the harbor a forest of masts, and here may be seen the shipping
of all nations. Near these and just above them, up along farther
in the city and bordering the river, are fine Boulevards,--narrow
parks or promenades well graded, called the Mardyke, and set out
with shade-trees. The opposite side of the river, at the entrance of
the harbor proper, is occupied by elegant lawns, with shrubbery and
shade-trees in front of fine mansions and villas; and again, along the
river above these, begins the business part of the city.
A good quay extends half a mile on both sides of the river. These have
walls of cut, dark limestone, crowned by a substantial railing as a
protecting balustrade. The larger part of the place, so far as its
business portion is concerned, is built on level ground, and here the
streets are wide, well paved and clean, and with the buildings, all of
which are of brick or stone, a majority of the latter being painted in
light colors, present a pleasing and finished appearance. All things
seen are anything but what is imagined by a stranger when he hears one
speak of Irish Cork.
Here and there, as at Queenstown, may be seen some of the old Irish
male stock, with corduroys and long stockings, velvet coats, peculiar
felt hats, heavy shoes--strangers to Day and Martin's specialty;
but these are exceptions, about as much so as they are in the Irish
sections of New York or Boston. Generally speaking, the dress of the
people, male and female, of Irish cities is not peculiar, and aside
from these exceptional instances they do not vary from those of London
or Boston.
As regards a good civilization--everywhere in the business parts of the
city, manifested by large and well-filled stores and fine warehouses,
and by well dressed and industrious people--our impressions were very
favorable.
The city in this region, like all large places, has its quota of
men loafing about its bridges and wharves, waiting, Micawber like,
"for something to turn up." So has Atlantic Avenue, Boston. In these
respects Boston is Corkish, or Cork is like Boston. About the steamer
wharves and at the railway station (we don't now talk of _depots_, for
to be true to foreign dialect, we must say _station_) it is the same.
At these, and along the thoroughfare from it, are boys, Yankee-like,
ready to turn an honest penny or to earn one; and very demonstrative
they are, and the cabmen as well. Americans are often outdone by them.
One of these boys, at the moment of our landing from the steamer,
seized our valises and _would_ carry them. He _in_sisted and we
_re_sisted, and at length the American element in us--"the spirit of
'76"--was aroused, and in the ascendant; and to convince him that he
ought to let go his hold, down came a hand on his arm with a force, and
accompanied by a tone of voice and ejaculation, that meant business.
"Keep off! Let go!" was the order and advice, and he did both.
Here, as at Queenstown, the little donkeys were on hand, and rendering
a large and patient service. The public buildings are not very
important, but substantial and good of their kind. Conspicuous among
the new edifices is the Episcopal Cathedral now being erected. It is of
stone, very imposing, with three towers, and in the Romanesque style of
architecture. The Roman Catholic Cathedral, SS. Peter and Paul, also of
dark limestone, having cut or hammered dressing, is a Gothic structure
of considerable size, with a good tower at the centre of the front end,
crowned with four turrets, and having a neat but small lawn, surrounded
with an iron fence, about the cathedral's front. It was erected after
designs by the celebrated F. W. Pugin, and cost $150,000. The interior,
although not old, was dirty and presented a dingy appearance. We were
told by the verger (sexton) that times being hard, business dull, and
the people poor, accounted for the condition. We differed in opinion in
other respects than theologically, but made no mention of the fact, and
passed out.
Of course we must see, and soon at that, the church of St. Ann's,
Shandon, and so made for that. It ought before to have been said that
soon after crossing the river the land rises quite fast; so that as one
stands in the business part, and in the thoroughfare along the line
of the river,--and looks across the entire section of the city from
the river backwards, the distant parts are seen towering much above
the business portion. High up, along from the centre to the right,
appear shade-trees and good gardens, with other evidences of a better
civilization; but from these along to the left is presented a view
quite the opposite of the front, or harbor, view of Queenstown. There,
the low population is to the right and near the water; while here it
begins half-way up the hill at the centre, and extends a half-mile or
more to the left; and, as we leave the centre named, the buildings
on the hillside, and the group or lot widening till they reach from
the river to the top of the hill, are so arranged that, with houses
of several stories and of remarkably quaint design, the high roofs
appear in ranges one above the other, and the great hillside presents a
strange, antique, thoroughly European appearance. They are of stone,
built in the most substantial manner, and are unlike anything that can
be found in America.
But we resume our journey to St. Ann's, Shandon. As observed from the
river streets, it stands not far from the Catholic Cathedral, nor far
from the centre of the hillside, as regards extent right and left, or
elevation. The edifice was built in 1722. The tower was built of hewn
stone, taken from the Franciscan Abbey--where James II. heard mass--and
from the ruins of Lord Barry's castle. It is of dark limestone on the
three principal sides, and, like the body of the church, with red
sandstone on the rear side above the church roof. The edifice is made
celebrated by what are termed and somewhat well known as The Sweet
Bells of Shandon, made conspicuous by the poem of Father Prout:--
"Sweet Bells of Shandon,
That sound so grand on
The pleasant waters of the River Lee."
The church is Protestant Episcopal, and is of a debased Roman
architecture. It has a square tower rising a proper distance above
the roof, and this is crowned by a series of three square sections
of somewhat ill proportions as regards their low height; and the top
one is finished with a small dome surmounted by an immense fish as a
vane, the tower and steeple being perhaps one hundred and twenty feet
high. We did not hear the bells, save as they played a few notes at the
quarter-hours. The one on which the hours are struck is probably the
largest tenor bell, and weighs perhaps 2000 pounds. What we did hear
of them did not arouse enthusiasm. We simply thought them good average
bells, and made more than that, in song and story, simply by Father
Prout's poem. One thing about the tower struck us forcibly, and that
was the monstrous dials, full twelve feet in diameter, painted directly
on the stonework of the tower, with a rim of stone at the figure circle.
Next, a few words in relation to the population and condition of this
part of the city. It will be remembered that we are now in the centre
of the hillside, as seen from the business parts of the place, and at
an elevation of full sixty feet,--in the conspicuous, and what ought to
be aristocratic, quarter of the metropolis. But alas for what "might
have been." The street in front, and the passage along the side of this
building, are ill cared for and filthy in the extreme. A burial-ground
forms part of the premises on both sides of the edifice, and is as
neglected and disgraceful as one can well imagine. On the right is a
thoroughfare alongside of the church, leading through the cemetery to
some institution--perhaps a parish-school or hospital--in the rear of
the church, and fronting on this passage-way. Here are cast-off shoes,
broken crockery, stones thrown about by the boys, and unmentionable
filth in abundance. At the right are broken monuments, badly defaced
gravestones, and half-dilapidated tombs, all betokening a general lack
of care over the premises.
Walking from the front of the church to the narrow and filthy streets
that compose the neighborhood, we noticed such odors, sights, and
conditions as we had before erroneously associated with all of Cork. We
here saw a low Ireland at its best--or worst, as we may choose to term
it; for here abounded dirt, degradation, poverty, and general squalor,
up to the height of our early imagination. The houses are of stone,
plastered and whitewashed, most of them one or two stories high, with
roofs covered with very small and thick slates. We soon had enough of
this kind of "Erin go bragh." If we did not know all that was possible
to be known, imagination would, in spite of us, aggravatingly supply
what was lacking.
As we passed out of this "Paradise Lost," or at least the one not
regained, we could but feel that to make less display of service
within their churches, depend less for good fame on the Sweet Bells of
Shandon, and render a more reasonable and practical service, would be
more rational, Christian and right.
We are told that the ancient Pharisees made the outside clean, and the
inside was full of dead men's bones, and all manner of uncleanness.
These people have reversed this, and without visible improvement.
Next must be named a thing of interest, and that is the Bazaar. It
is a one-story building of immense size, and in appearance like a
railway freight-house. Built of stone, and centrally situated, it is
filled with every conceivable kind of second-hand goods. Separated,
market-like, into stalls, it is so arranged and confusing as to
make a labyrinth of avenues and divisions. Here are such things as
old hardware, boots and shoes,--some as poor and valueless as we
throw away, some better and newly blacked,--clothing for both sexes,
crockery,--and we might continue the list. The Bazaar is managed by
women, and the place and its commodities are as indescribable as the
nationality of the Man in the Moon.
As at Queenstown, we saw much drunkenness, and often met, singly or in
squads, the Red-coats, or English soldiers; but more concerning these
will be said in another place.
The space we devote to this city is perhaps more than its share, but
less can hardly be said, and our references to it are ended by a
quotation or two from its history.
It is said that Cromwell, during his short sojourn in Cork, caused the
church bells to be cast into cannon. On being remonstrated with against
the profanity, he replied that as a priest had been the inventor
of gunpowder, the best use of the bells would be to cast them into
_canons_.
It was here that William Penn, founder of our Pennsylvania, became a
convert to Quakerism. He visited the place to look after his father's
property, changed his religion under the preaching of Thomas Loe, and
on Sept. 3, 1667, was apprehended with others and taken before the
Mayor's Court, charged with "attending unlawful assemblies." Refusing
to give bonds for good behavior he was imprisoned, but wrote to the
Lord President of the council of Munster, who ordered his discharge.
He was identified with the Quakers from this time till his decease, at
Ruscombe, England, July 30, 1718, at the age of seventy-four.
Cork has an interesting ancient history. It was long the seat of a
Pagan temple, on the site of which St. Fionn Bar, the anchorite,
founded a monastery in the beginning of the seventh century. The Danes
in the ninth century overran the kingdom, and were probably the real
founders of the city, and they surrounded it with walls; though the
St. Fionn Bar monastery had continued through the centuries, and it is
recorded that, on the intrusion of the Danes, the seminary had full
seven hundred scholars "who had flocked there from all parts."
The inhabitants, under the Danes and their successors, frequently
devastated the entire vicinity, and were in turn punished by the
neighboring chiefs.
In 1493 Perkin Warbeck, the impostor king and pretender to the throne
of England in the reign of Henry VII., was received here with great
pomp and display. In consequence of participation in this act, the
mayor was hanged and beheaded, and the city lost its charter, which was
not restored till 1609.
An ancient historian, Ralph Holinshed, whose works were published in
1577, thus describes this city. "On the land side they are encumbered
with evil neighbors--the Irish outlaws, that they are fein to watch
their gates hourlie, to keep them shut at service time, and at meales,
from sun to sun, nor suffer anie stranger to enter the citie with his
weapon, but the same to leave at a lodge appointed. They walk out at
seasons for recreation with power of men furnished. They trust not the
country adjoining, but match in wedlock among themselves onlie, so that
the whole citie is well-nigh linked one to the other in affinite."
In the War of the Protectorate, Cork maintained its condition as a
loyal city till 1649, when it was surprised and taken by Cromwell,
whose acts and cruelties are well known the civilized world over.