Transcriber’s Note
Hyphenations have been standardised.
Changes made are noted at the end of the book.
[Illustration: THE AUTHOR.]
The Truth About Ireland
OR
Through the Emerald Isle With
an Aeroplane.
BY
ALEXANDER CORKEY
AUTHOR OF
“The Victory of Allan Rutledge—A Tale of the Middle West.”
WITH AN INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER
SHOWING THE
BRIGHT FUTURE OF IRELAND
BY
HON. WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN.
Published by Shockley Bros. & Cook, Oskaloosa, Iowa.
Published in London, England, by Richard J. James, Publisher,
London House Yard, St. Paul’s, E. C.
DEDICATED
TO
MESSRS. WILBUR AND ORVILLE WRIGHT,
INVENTORS OF THE AEROPLANE AND CONQUERORS
OF THE AIR
COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY ALEXANDER CORKEY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Contents
CHAPTER PAGE
INTRODUCTORY BY HON. W. J. BRYAN 13
I. THE BEGINNING OF MY AEROPLANE TRIP
THROUGH IRELAND 18
II. FLYING OVER KILLARNEY IN AN AIRSHIP 26
III. OUR EXPERIENCES IN COUNTY KERRY 33
IV. A THRILLING VISIT IN CONNEMARA 39
V. ALMOST A DISASTER 45
VI. FROM WESTPOINT TO ENNISKILLEN 49
VII. A DAY IN ENNISKILLEN 55
VIII. CIRCLING OVER LONDONDERRY IN AN
AEROPLANE 60
IX. ALIGHTING AT THE GIANT’S CAUSEWAY 67
X. OUR REST ON THE ANTRIM COAST 73
XI. A FLIGHT IN AN AEROPLANE WITH AN
IRISH GIRL 80
XII. OVER AND AROUND BELFAST 87
XIII. ALIGHTING IN DROGHEDA 93
XIV. WITH FRIENDS IN DUBLIN 98
XV. GUESTS IN AN IRISH HOME 104
XVI. AROUND THE CAPITAL CITY OF IRELAND 111
XVII. WICKLOW, THE GARDEN OF IRELAND 115
XVIII. BACK AGAIN TO CORK 123
XIX. OUR LAST DAY IN IRELAND. SEEING TIPPERARY 127
List of Illustrations
FRONTISPIECE, _The Author_
THROUGH THE EMERALD ISLE WITH AN
AEROPLANE, Opposite Page 24
BLARNEY CASTLE, Opposite Page 32
AN IRISH CABIN, Opposite Page 40
LONDONDERRY, IRELAND, Opposite Page 60
GIANT’S CAUSEWAY, Opposite Page 74
DUNLUCE CASTLE, Opposite Page 82
AN IRISH JAUNTING CAR, Opposite Page 96
AN IRISH VILLAGE, Opposite Page 120
“BEGORRA, IT’S A FOINE BURD,” Opposite Page 132
Preface
The aeroplane is man’s latest invention. Through it man has become
lord of the air. The steamship and steam engine had already given him
victory over sea and land. Now he is complete master of the situation.
One of the most delightful uses of the aeroplane is in sightseeing.
Aerial tourist travel will soon become popular, as a bird’s-eye view of
a country is the most satisfactory of all.
For several reasons, however, many will be unable to enjoy this latest
luxury, traveling IN THE BODY, but WITH THE MIND everyone who desires
can enjoy in the following pages, an aeroplane trip through Ireland,
fairest of all lands.
This mental excursion in the aeroplane has obvious advantages over
a like physical experience, as every aeronaut will cheerfully
acknowledge. Future aerial travelers over Erin will be able to witness
to the truthfulness of this bird’s-eye view of Ireland, and I trust
the historical allusions will add to the interest of our survey of the
island’s lovely scenes. The visits to Irish homes, and the glimpses of
Irish character will also, I am sure, be enjoyed.
I wish to thank Hon. William Jennings Bryan for the Introductory
Chapter, in which, from the viewpoint of a practical statesman, he
shows the bright future of the Emerald Isle. The full account of this
famous visit of his to Ireland was published in the Commoner, which
owns the copyright.
THE AUTHOR.
Introductory Chapter
SHOWING THE BRIGHT FUTURE OF IRELAND
BY
HON. WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN
My visit to Ireland was too brief to enable me to look into the
condition of the tenants in the various parts of the island, but by
the courtesy of the Lord Mayor of Dublin, Mr. Timothy Harrington, and
Mr. John Dillon, both members of Parliament, I met a number of the
prominent representatives of Ireland in national politics.
It is true that home rule has not yet been secured, but the contest
for home rule has focused attention upon the industrial and political
condition of Erin, and a number of remedial measures have been adopted.
First, the tenant was given title to his improvements and then the
amount of the rent was judicially determined. More recently the
authorities have been building cottages for the rural laborers. Over
15,000 of these cottages have already been erected and arrangements are
being made for some 19,000 more. These are much more comfortable than
the former dwellings, and much safer from a sanitary point of view. The
recent Land Purchase Act, which went into effect on November first,
(1903), seems likely to exert a very great influence upon the condition
of the people. According to its terms the Government is to buy the land
from the landlord and sell it to the tenants.
As the Government can borrow money at a lower rate than the ordinary
borrower, it is able to give the tenant much better terms than he gets
from his present landlord, and at the same time purchase the land of
the landlord at a price that is equitable. The landlords are showing a
disposition to comply with the spirit of the law, although some of them
are attempting to get a larger price for their land than it was worth
prior to the passage of the law.
The purpose of the law is to remove from politics the landlord
question, which has been a delicate one to deal with. Most of the
larger estates were given to the ancestors of the present holders, and
many of the owners live in England and collect their rents through a
local agent. The new law makes the Government the landlord; and the
tenant, by paying a certain annual sum for 63 years, becomes the owner
of the fee. He has the privilege of paying all, or any part, at any
time, and can dispose of his interest.
The settlement which is now being effected not only removes the
friction which has existed between the tenant and the landlord, but
puts the tenant in a position where he can appeal to the Government
with reasonable certainty of redress in case unforeseen circumstances
make his lot harder than at present anticipated.
The assurance that he will become the owner of the fee will give to the
Irish farmer an ambition that has heretofore been wanting, for he will
be able to save without fear of an increase in the rent.
Not only is the land question in process of settlement, but there
has been at the same time other improvements which make for the
permanent progress of the people. There is a constant increase in
educational facilities, and a large number of co-operative banks have
been established. Agricultural societies have been formed for the
improvement of crops and stock, and the trend is distinctly upward. The
Irish leaders have not obtained all that they labored for—there is
much to be secured before their work is complete, but when the history
of Ireland is written, the leaders now living will be able to regard
with justifiable pride the results of their devotion and sacrifice
and their names will be added to the long list of Irish patriots and
statesmen.
In Dublin I paid my respects to Lord Dudley, Lieutenant Governor of
Ireland, whose residence, the Viceregal Lodge, is in Phoenix Park, and
found him so genial and affable a host that I am led to hope that in
his administration of the executive branch of the Government he will
make the same attempt at just treatment that parliament has made in the
enactment of the recent land measures.
Dublin is a very substantial looking city and much more ancient
in appearance than Belfast, the latter reminding one more of an
enterprising American city. We did not have a chance to visit any of
the industries of Dublin, and only a linen factory and a shipyard in
Belfast, but as the linen factory, The York Street Linen Mills, was
one of the largest in Ireland, and the shipyard, Harland and Wolff’s,
the largest in the world, they gave some idea of the industrial
possibilities of the island.
Queenstown, Ireland, the first town to greet the tourist when he
reaches Northern Europe and the last to bid him farewell when he
departs, is a quaint and interesting old place. Here the returning
traveller has a chance to spend any change which he has left, for
blackthorn canes and shillelaghs, “Robert Emmett” and “Harp of Erin”
handkerchiefs and lace collars are offered in abundance. At Queenstown
one can hear the Irish brogue in all its richness and, if he takes a
little jaunt about the town, he can enjoy the humor for which the Irish
are famed.
To one accustomed to the farms of the Mississippi and the Missouri
valleys, the little farms of Ireland seem contracted indeed, but what
they lack in size they make up in thoroughness of cultivation. The farm
houses are not large, but from the railroad train they looked neat and
well kept.
There is a general desire among the leaders of thought in Ireland
to check the emigration from that country. They feel that Ireland,
under fair conditions, can support a much larger population than
she now has. Ireland, they say, has been drained of many of its most
enterprising and vigorous sons and daughters. It is hardly probable
that the steps already taken will entirely check the movement towards
the United States, but there is no doubt that the inhabitants of
Ireland and their friends across the water contemplate the future _With
Brighter Hopes and Anticipations_ than they have for a century.
The Truth About Ireland
CHAPTER I
BEGINNING OF MY AEROPLANE TRIP THROUGH IRELAND
It all happened in this way. Early last summer I was travelling through
Ohio and came to the prosperous city of Dayton. While spending a few
days visiting in this enterprising city, a friend met me, and proposed
to call on the Wright Brothers, who had won wide fame as the men who
knew how to fly.
I was rather skeptical about a man contesting the atmosphere with the
fowls of the air. I had a private opinion that Mother Earth was meant
for man, and that the nearer he kept to it the better. I went to see
these aeronauts with a prejudice against the flying business.
We soon found the airship factory, and we were introduced to Mr.
Wilbur Wright. He greeted us very cordially, and even took us around
his factory, showing us an aeroplane and explaining its workings. I
was astonished at the simplicity of the airship and was impressed with
the enthusiasm of the successful young aeronaut. I began to thaw out.
I asked a lot of questions. Before half an hour had passed by I was a
convert to the flying business, and made up my mind that Mr. Wright was
a “bird.” He had discovered not only how to fly, but also, which is
more important, how to light.
That was the beginning of my interest in aeroplanes. I do not expect
that anything wonderful would have come out of my Dayton experience had
I not journeyed the next week to New York State to visit an old-time
friend, Mr. Mike Connor. Naturally, I began to display my new-found
knowledge about aeronautics on the first opportunity. To my great
surprise I found that Mr. Connor was also an enthusiastic aeroplanist.
I found he knew all about flying. When I expressed wonder at his
knowledge of this recent art of cleaving the heaven’s blue, he told me
he had been studying the matter for a long time. He said he could get
few of his friends to take any stock in this latest victory of man over
nature, and he was delighted to find me a sympathetic listener to his
descriptions of the coming uses of flying machines.
Looking carefully around the room, as if to see that no unfriendly ear
could hear, he finally confessed to me in a stage whisper:
“I have an aeroplane of my own. I bought it two months ago, and I can
now fly with it beautifully.”
“Good,” I cried, “let me see it.”
He at once took me out to the shed where he kept the “bird.” I looked
it over with intense interest, which pleased my good friend, Mike, (as
I must call him) very much. It was a Wright aeroplane, about the same
size as the one Mr. Wilbur Wright had shown me at Dayton. The two main
planes, like the top and bottom of a street car, were 40 feet long
and 7 feet wide. The distance between the upper and lower planes was 6
feet. These planes were covered with a stout cloth, like tent cloth.
There were two small horizontal planes in front, controlled by levers,
by which the aeroplane was raised or lowered at will when it was in
the air. At the rear there was also a double set of planes, vertically
placed, to assist in turning the airship, just as a helm turns a ship
in the water. Motion was generated by two large propellers, seven feet
long, made of spruce wood, which ran in opposite directions. Power was
furnished by a compact, 25-horse power motor, which Mike, whom I knew
to be an expert with gasoline engines, said was one of the best he ever
handled.
“Just as reliable as steam,” he assured me, when I spoke of the
unreliability of the ordinary motor.
Mike explained to me how to start, how to rise and descend, and how to
turn in the air.
I asked him why he had not let me know about this new treasure before,
and he told me his friends to whom he had spoken about it had treated
him so coldly, that he had ceased to mention the matter, but he had
quietly been practicing with his machine until now he was able to fly
anywhere. There was a large meadow back of his house, surrounded by
thick groves, and in this secluded spot he had spent weeks perfecting
himself in the art of flying.
As it was too late that day for a flight he promised to take me on my
first jaunt among the clouds next morning.
I had known Mike Connor since he was a boy. His father had left him a
lot of money, but he was not the usual wild kind of heir. He looked
after his estate closely, but, having a heap of time on his hands, he
was always ready for a diversion. When the bicycles first came out,
he had two or three of the finest makes. He was the very first in his
neighborhood to purchase an automobile, and he soon became an expert
with his motor car. Accordingly, I was not surprised to know that he
had so soon mastered the use of the aeroplane.
When we came back to the house he asked me suddenly:
“Jack, what are you going to do this summer?”
“I have been planning,” I replied, “to take a run across the fish pond
and visit old Ireland again.”
“Good,” he fairly shouted.
I looked at him a little curiously, wondering why he was so interested
in my visit to the Emerald Isle.
“Let us go together,” he continued enthusiastically, “and take the
aeroplane.”
This was certainly a novel proposition, and I laughed so heartily at
the idea of flying through Ireland that Mike got impatient.
“Don’t you think we can do it?” he asked.
“Let us wait till morning,” I answered evasively, “and we will see
about it.” Mike’s face fell, and I could see he thought I was not a
thorough convert to the aeroplane art.
There is something of the Scotchman about me, and I wanted to know a
little more about the “bird” business before I started on a vacation
trip with wings. An Irish bog would not be a bad place for an aeronaut
to alight in case he had to descend unceremoniously, but I didn’t want
to spoil a nice outing in Ireland by breaking my neck trying to fly.
The next morning we were up with the birds and soon had the aeroplane
all ready for a flight. The Wright aeroplane ascends from a “starting
rail,” which is merely a stout board turned up on end.
The meadow was an ideal place to fly. It was an immense level field,
about half a mile long, and quarter of a mile broad. I had all
confidence in Mike and had no reason to believe he meant to destroy me,
but I was just a little shaky as I climbed up into the second seat over
the motor.
Mike vaulted easily into his seat, started the motor, and in a few
seconds we were off. I can never describe the excitement of the
next ten minutes. We rose to the height of about 80 feet, and then
sailed rapidly round and round the field. The sensation of flying was
something entirely new. I was exhilarated, charmed, delighted. After I
became a little used to it I was able to observe the field below, which
glided under us with marvelous speed.
After ten minutes of this thrilling experience Mike decided to land,
as he did not wish to try my nerves too severely the first time. The
landing was perfect. Mike shut off the motor at a height of 70 feet,
and the aeroplane came gliding down like a big bird. I could not tell
just when we came to earth, so gently did the airship alight. It glided
along on its runners for a short distance and then came quietly to a
stop.
I stepped out on the grass like a man in a dream.
“How did you like it?” asked Mike.
For answer I fairly hugged him. He was pleased and asked at once about
a trip through Ireland.
“It would be grand,” I exclaimed, “let us go.”
We had several other flights together and we were both confident that
we could have a glorious time in the Emerald Isle with an airship.
We soon completed our arrangements. The aeroplane was taken to pieces
and carefully packed. Each box was marked “Queenstown.”
In three weeks’ time we were ready to start. We booked on the
Lusitania, and, as the boxes, in which our aeroplane was stored, were
taken on board as baggage, we landed in five days at Queenstown,
airship and all.
I had crossed the Atlantic several times before, but this voyage was
the most exciting of all. We sat on deck and talked of our plans when
we landed. Mike was sure of his ability to fly a day at a time, and so
we outlined a strenuous program. I was well acquainted with Ireland,
and I had marked our stopping places as we would fly through the island.
Sometimes fear of failure would take possession of my mind. The whole
thing was so novel. Such a thing as flying round a country on a
sightseeing trip had never been attempted. I was fearful I had been
rash.
A talk with Mike always sent these fears to the winds. He had no fears
whatever.
As Mike was to have the chief share in piloting our airship, I decided
to take generous notes and prepare a full account of the places we
visited and our most exciting experiences as we flew over the green
fields of Erin. From these notes I have prepared for the world the
account of our trip which is found in the following chapters.
We had not breathed a word about our plans to anyone on board during
our voyage across the Atlantic, and when we landed at Queenstown we
quietly sent on our “baggage” to Cork, and followed ourselves that
evening. We had planned to begin our flight from Cork. We expected
to fly around the island in a couple of days and then visit some
attractive places one by one. We were compelled to change this plan, as
we shall see.
After a good night’s rest at the Imperial Hotel in Cork, we
“assembled,” as aeronauts say, the various parts of our airship the
next morning on a level field just outside the city.
We avoided the public as much as possible, and the few people who came
around found us non-committal, and wondered what we were doing.
[Illustration: THROUGH THE EMERALD ISLE WITH AN AEROPLANE.]
In the evening when we were left alone, about nine o’clock, (it is
still quite light at this time in Ireland during July) we made a short
trial ascent. Our first flight beneath the kindly Irish skies was a
complete success. Everything was working beautifully.
Well satisfied with our first day’s work we returned to our hotel for
the night. Our plan was to fly the first day as far as the Giant’s
Causeway, going up the West side of the island. On the second day we
expected to return to Cork and make trips here and there after that.
We had another good night’s rest, and rose with the sun, or rather a
little before it. We found our aeroplane in the field as we left it,
and after carefully examining every part, Mike said:
“All right, Jack. Let us start.”
I climbed up on my seat. Mike started the motor. The machine began to
move along the starting rail, and rose like a bird. When we had gone
up to about the height of 200 feet we circled around over Cork. In the
dawning light we could see the strange tower of the Church of Saint
Mary Shandon, St. Patrick’s Street, and the beautiful Cathedral of St.
Finbar’s. I could also distinguish Queen’s College.
Turning in a northwestern direction, Mike said to me:
“Now we’re off.”
We were speeding through the air towards Killarney.