Limerick, Sept. 5, 117.

My Dear L.

This city contains from 80,000 to 90,000 inhabitants, and, situated on the noble Shannon, makes a fine appearance. The new part is extremely handsome, and well planned; but the old is formed of ill-shaped streets, and narrow lanes, crowded by a great and distressed population. It once owned the sway of the royal house of [337] O’Brien submitted to Henry the Second shortly after Cork, and received his garrison. The Danes long held a great force here; and, in general, I imagine that the presence of these foreigners facilitated .the success of the English, whether they themselves preferred them and their alliance to that of the Irish, or that the latter were glad to throw off the Danish yoke, as well as that of their own despots.

After Henry’s departure, when Limerick had revolted, it was taken in a very gallant manner by Raymond le Gros. His army making some hesitation on the banks of the Shannon near it, he spurred his horse, plunged in, and was followed by his soldiers: — an heroic action, too little noticed!

The city very quickly surrendered, though the English general was soon after constrained to abandon it, and to have the mortification of beholding the parts he had fortified fired by O’Brien andchis adherents. It shared many vicissitudes, and maintained a variable and rude indepeiidauce in common with Connaught and Munster, between which it was the great key and pass-port, for many centuries. Limerick fell under the power of the De Burghos in course of. time, and had various vicissitudes of temporary rulers and chieftains. At length it underwent final subjection by the arms of William, under General Ginkle.

[338]

In Ireland’s earliest times, of which history gives broken and irregular gleams, but no continued and perspicuous records, it is probable that Limerick was a seat of government for the South. The Shannon offered a great and easy inlet to adventurers from the Continents, whether of Europe, Asia, America, or Africa, long before the Milesian invasion. The original race or prior adventurers were extinct, when hardy and heroic bands, evidently of Celtic root, spreading over Munster and Connaught, colonized those parts with families whom nature taught a pastoral and agricultural life. Their music and harps, of the first antiquity in the world, and their language, are, to this present period, existing and sensible proofs of their Celtic ancestry. Their ancestors, perhaps, enjoyed some great empire, before those of Nineveh, Babylon, or Assyria were known. They soon filled the West and South; spread to the East, and penetrated to the North of Ireland; lived under patriarchal governments of tribes, and, cultivating the arts of peace, worshipped one Deity.

Such a picture, at least, agrees with the remarkable description by Diodorus Siculus, of this island; and which, by an eastern race, was naturally called Erin, or the Western Isle. They were disturbed, at length, by many northern invaders, and finally conquered by the Milesians, or Spaniards, five or six hundred years before [339] the Christian era, who established the pentarchal government. But many original traits of this early Celtic stock remained, and if these last invaders had not arrived, and by conquest introduced the most defective of all governments, a virtuous and happy republic, or limited monarchy, might have sprung up in this too long agitated and unhappy isle. The Milesians, infected with a rage for petty royalties, allowed it little repose.

The Danes, a commercial, military, and hardy race, profited fully by the divisions of the Milesian kings. The English, led by Henry the Second, gave them one supreme government, which promised universal peace; but, as we have seen, left for centuries, to Limerick, and the provinces we are now exploring, that rude exemption from the wholesome controul of government of which I spoke in commencing this letter. Munster, however, had the glory of producing a man, long previous to the English king’s arrival, who might have given freedom to Ireland, if she had beeii fit to receive and maintain it, — the renowned — justly renowned — Brian Borom, King of Munster, who resided in this city before he was called to the government of the whole island! He had undoubted talents as a warrior and statesman; but the defectiveness of the constitution, and rivalry of the petty kings, on his decease, instantly obliterated the fruits of his victories over [340 ] the Danes, and of his cares as monarch of Ireland. The sons of [Milesius] introduced a radical defect, which no internal power could cure!

After the death of Brian, the Danes recovered their power m Limerick; and the very strong works, of which remarkable vestiges, are still to be seen, were probably fortified by them. When you visit Limerick, you will not wonder that it betrayed me into fresh historical disquisition.

The situation of this city, on the finest river in Ireland, or the empire, dissecting by great divisions the central part of the island, as well as forming a great channel between Clare and Limerick to the sea, and in the midst of the richest lands of Munster and Connaught, is exceedingly striking, Nature has pointed if out to the most remote generations as an emporium for external and internal trade. That, majestic stream which flows before me, may. have borne on its glassy bosom the original colonizers of this fair and fertile island, and witnessed their debarkation in meadows, ever rich and verdant, through the bounteous disposition of nature! T-be sweet harp may. have recorded their bloodless triumph, and peaceful progress. Long may they have enjoyed these rural and unrivalled scenes, — the repose .under lofty trees,---the happy arts of agricultural life, — the varying charms of this king of rivers, the foaming and pellucid Shannon rolling his blue stream before their delighted [341] eyes, and calmly worshipping the God of their ancestors; — perhaps, even, my dear L., in such simple places of worship as we have so recently visited, till turbulent arid sanguinary invaders broke on the heavenly scene, and till the haughty Milesians, with conquering hands, imposed ielty thrones in every territory, and in their train came oppression, pride, avarice, baleful vanity, and murderous civil war!

Since I laid down my pen, we have made a very pleasing, though fatiguing excursion. Having learned that a part of the Shannon, called the Falls of Doonass, six or seven miles from the city, in an inland direction, was very beautiful, we resolved to see it. We had the additional motive of hoping to find the picture of Edmund Spencer at the house of Alderman Vincent, said to be near these Falls. We pursued our way, as directed, along the canal at Limerick, till we reached the bank of the Shannon, on which ran a level and handsome gravel-walk. The river, at the distance of a mile and a half above the town, is grand and majestic beyond any thing we had seen in Ireland, and scarcely, if at all, inferior to the Thames at Putney. Level and fine meadows, in which they were still making hay, spread every where to the margin of the water opposite to us on our left, whilst on the right appeared, surrounded by groves, rich agriculture, and numerous handsome country-seats. Above them [342] the ruins of Newcastle, a castle where King William stationed himself when besieging that city, whose misfortunes I have just related.

This beautiful walk along the Shannon cannot be surpassed, and, 1 think, scarcely paralleled anywhere. At length we crossed a ferry, three miles from Limerick, and entering the county of Clare, had, a long walk through a very flat country. In the neighbourhood of Doonass we found many poor cottages, in which fever was making uncontrouled ravages. The poor people came from their doors, and asked if we were physicians; and seemed in extreme misery, dreading the approach of winter; and sinking, unassisted, under sickness. They were tenants of Sir Hugh Massey, but he was abroad. We promised to mention their deplorable situation at some gentleman’s house, and, if possible, procure them medicine.

From these humble abodes of wretchedness, we pressed on, till we found ourselves again in the neighbourhood of the Shannon. Directed by the people (who were very obliging) to turn to the right, near some slated cottages of Sir Hugh Massey"s, and pursue our path along the river to Alderman Vincent’s, we suddenly opened on scenes to which it is impossible to do justice by painting or description. The Shannon spread his blue waters, sparkling in the sun, in the manner of a lake, encompassed by varying woods [343] and little lawns, and verdant hills; and as we walked the romantic path we bad discovered in Sir H. Massey’s delightful demesnes, this noble river foamed at our side, and covered the brown rocks and hanging shrubs with his spray.

As we advanced, Lord Massey’s house appeared on a gentle declivity, embowered in trees, and highly adorning the picture. The river, widening as we passed, delighted through the picturesque and woodefl way, every moment promised greater beauties, and always surpassed the promise, until reaching the foot of a ruined tower, the salmon-leap, composed of great ledges of rockj and the deservedly celebrated Falls of Doonass, surprized us, by a view far transcending expectation, fully rewarding the toil of the day, and presenting to our eyes such exquisite natural beauty as we had not before beheld. The Falls of Doonass are an interruption of the navigation of the Shannon, by ledges of rocks and shoal-water, on gravelly fiats. The current at the salmon-leap, and above it, is very strong, and the angry river seems gathering in his rage at the interposed delay, as he prepares to burst along. His waves dash in tumultuous conflict, and whiten in the sun’s rays; then hurry on, and sweeping through the scattered and opposing, rocks, hurries with him our affrighted senses, and hardly permits the anxious breath to [344] be drawn. In more tranquil sports the attentive anglers were casting their long lines.

On the opposite meadows, the peaceful sheep heeded not this princely river’s fury; and below the Falls small wooded-isles, or promontories, smiled on its exhausted powers, and dipt in its smooth surface the branches and many-tinted leaves of their trees 1 The ruined tower I mentioned commands the finest view in the world of picturesque beauty.

Following our path through this noble place of Sir Hugh Massey’s, we had a good view of a very fine mansion-house and beautiful grounds, where hay-making diversified and animated every spot. Continuing our way, the Shannon became quite tranquil, and flowed within its regular bounds. Its glassy bosom was smooth and unruffled. Villa after villa ornamented the opposite side, and our path, over-hung by magnificent trees, presented fresh charms, until Mr. Vincent’s delightful mansion, seated on a lawn gently sloping to the water-edge, met our sight. Although gratified to thje utmost degree by all we had just seen, we were happy to have a prospect of repose in so sweet a spot, as our fatigue had been very great, and the distance to Doonass far exceeded our calculation. In the elegant mansion of AldermanVincent we met him himself and family a most hospitable reception, [345] and gladly accepted an invitation to dinner. Mr. Vincent manifested all that genuine urbanity which distinguishes Irish gentlemen so highly, and very politely shewed us his choice collection of pictures; but we sought the bard of Kilcolman in vain. The collection is, however, rare, and well deserves inspection. They were brought from Germany, and came to Mr. V. in part liquidation of a debt due by a friend now no more. There are many good portraits — one, said to be of Oliver Cromwell; several scripture and historic pieces of merits and others of rural and domestic life, well delineated. An elegant repast, good wine, and Mr. Vincent’s cheerful and instructive conversation, made the termination of our walk very pleasing. The situation of Alderman V.’s house is perfectly beautiful. The Shannon flows past its lawn in great beauty! Castle Connel, a very pretty village, where there is a good spa, stands on the opposite side, and the whole country round resembles a fine garden interspersed with villas, farm-houses, and woods. Having recommended the poor cottagers ill of the fever to this benevolent family, who have assisted many around in such situations, we took our leave, as the declining sun warned us that we must resume our path. Again we winded along its meandering way, and passed Sir I. Mussey’s mansion: again the mighty torrent began to foam and shake; and, again, the Falls of

[Missing pages]

[348] toned through the distant air, seemed the call to war, and heroic deeds of a great and valorous people; or, assuming softer tones, invited to gay levelling, the merry dance, and the sportive joys of love! Who could fail to think he heard the venerable harp accompanying these evening hymns? Who could forbear to rush into the mists of antiquity to find the people who formed, who cultivated, who listened to such music? — How pleased, too, one is, to leave modern history for these fascinating visions of peace and joy, which will rise up in deeply considering of the remote times of Erin’s early sons! The kind delusion soothes the soul; and, far from inspiring envy, or discontent, one rejoices if numbers in former days have enjoyed so much happiness, and one hopes that genial conciliation and internal peace, gradually approaches to renew and realize other scenes of joy and peace! How I long to see the merry dance, and the rural groups of the redressed and happy Irish! — the light feet beating gaily responsive to their own lively planxties, and a government of strength and concord, needing no expensive armies, no unconstitutional bills, looking with pleased security on their happy subjects! Is it much to expect this from an enlightened senate, and ministers of elected and liberal minds? Is it not thus they will discover how to avert the foreigner, and render our empire immortal?

Newport, Sept. 7, 1817.

This day, by attendance on divine service, we had an opportunity of seeing the cathedral of Limerick. It is one of the finest old buildings in the island, and was erected in 1207, by Donald O’Brien, then King of Limerick. This gothic pile is in good preservation and highly worthy, the traveller’s inspection. 'The congregation of Protestants is small. There are numerous chapels of the Catholics in this, city, attended by a that population. The dissenters are not numerous. We saw a new Catholic chapel, just finished in a very handsome Gothic manner which ornaments the new city very much. There is considerable harmony between Catholics and Protestants here, as well as in Cork, though the corporate, and exclusive system, is certainly injurious. to it. Here too, as in that city, contested elections have been carried on with great animation, to open the representation.

We inspected, at our leisure, the handsome public-buildings — the custom-house, court-house, and jail; as also the spacious streets of the new city, crowded with genteel well-dressed people. We have viewed Thomond-bridge, with its fourteen arches, narrow, .but still strong, and built above six hundred years. The shipping on the quays makes a very pleasing appearance; but trade has suffered here as well as every place; [350] and the great projected improvements on them, and in the upper part of the new city, are greatly checked. The tide reachte above the bridge more Uian sixty miles from the sea. Female beauty has been much and deservedly celebrated in Limerick. On Sundays there is a great display of it, as well as consummate elegance and taste in the dress of the ladies. The great cities of Munster, which we have now seen — of Waterford, Cork, and Limerick, offer to the stranger’s eyes in this respect, a very fascinating picture. Indeed, so much of graceful and genteel appearance in both sexes, of all the better classes, as present itself in these cities, make the most favourable impression on the mind. Such appearance could not exist without a great deal of mental excellence and superiority. In fact, in this, as in several other respect, the Irish, in a great measure, resemble the French. They have more personal beauty, however, than the latter, and the men have more strength, with equal activity. No traveller can observe their great cities without admiring the striking natural endowments of a population so great and so vivacious t

The neighbourhood of Limerick is rendered beautiful by the Clare mountains terminating many fine landscapes, in which the Shannon, flowing through a fertile and ornamented country, forms the chief feature. This evening we saw [351] them to great advantage from those admired meadows of which I have been speaking. We concluded the day by visiting them after dinner. The sun was declining, but sufficiently high to spread his golden hues over them. Patches of cultivation distinctly marked their verdant and sloping sides. We saw the peasant’s mountain cots plainly; the quiet smoke, harbinger of humble joy, just newly rising from them stealing to the clouds. The Shannon was hid from our view by intervening banks; but the gliding and numerous sails, following in gentle succession, pointed plainly where our favotirite river pursued his way to the ocean; This scene was not, as recently, enlivened by the labourer’s evening-song, but its mild glories will not easily be eradicated from our memories. We left it not till the orb of day sunk in the distant wave, and the indistinct sails of boats and vessel faded from our sight.

Limerick, Sept. 8, 1817.

This morning, my dear L., I devoted to the peculiar purpose of paying homage to the castle where the magnanimous William chiefly resided whilst besieging this city, forty years after it had surrendered to General Ireton. When the .first rays of early dawn appeared I left Limerick, and very soon came in sight of Newcastle, which is almost a mile and a half from this city, and seated near the Dublin road. We had been [352] shewn a few days ago, by a gentleman of Limerick, the part of the Shannon where William crossed, and I seized the opportunity, before we left this, of hastening to this castle. It stands on a gently-declining, hill, commanding a fine view of the city and the Shannon. The shell of this venerable building is considerable and lofty. At the very same period of the year and month, King William inhabited these now ruined and lonely walls. I found a seat in one of the arched windows, and had full leisure for reflection. The cold September breeze brushed past the shrubs and weeds, and, on a neighbouring tree, the plaintive robin sung his mournful appeal to winter! Here many cares devoured the royal hero, who fought, not as the gloomy Ireton, for the advantage of a sanguinary party, — who contended, not aJs the despotic and implacable Rinuccini [sic, for Rinuccini], for the vindictive triumphs of foreign bigotry, — not, as the three Stuarts, for narrow and corrupt despotism, — not as the leader of any party, — but who was the father of his people and guardian of the constitution! — who here struggled for the empire; and, for public good, near this castle, risked life itself!

The tomb has long covered him, my dear L.; but such a man can never die I Happy for Limerick, had she rightly appreciated the hero’s value; and, by gracious and speedy surrender, conciliated his best affections! She might have

[353]

possessed, within her walls, the head of the whole empire, and obtained for herself and Ireland a compact, signed by his own hand, which would have tranquillized, and secured the country!

The feeble tyrant, James, had fled. “Pardon our errors, and be our king” were the words which policy, good sense, and religion, dictated! — Prom this castle, where now I ruminate on the afflicting past, the royal warrior would have replied, “Come to my arms; embrace me, my children.” But the armed satellites of Louis the Fourteenth were in the unfortunate city; of that foreign despot, whose great aim was to prevent concord in this great empire! In a fatal hour, and contrary to the general opinion in Limerick, the opinions of the French Commanders and of Sarsefield [sic for Sarsfield] prevailed.

The country which once introduces a foreign force, against a just and lawful government, obtains temporary masters, who will never make! a good capitulation for her interests. It was the interest of William, and of the Irish Catholics in Limerick, to make immediate and lasting peace. That of Prance was to keep alive a lingering war. William had hoped the French would have retired. His affairs in England, and on the Continent, called him away. But Louis dreaded the champion of freedom re-appearing in either! Delay was something to the wily king; and a

[354]

lucky ball, (more fortunate than that directed against him at the Boyne) . might remove his formidable adversary for ever! It was, therefore, the policy of the French king to dupe the Irish to the last. Thus William was detained in this venerable castle, (where I sit, and whence I write to you, my dear L.) as Henry the Second was in Leinster, anxious to make a general pacification, and to give a good constitution, and equal laws to all Ireland; and, like him, was at length hurried away by foreign and domestic affairs, whilst this island, in either case, was deprived of golden moments, and consigned to ruin.

I left the castle oppressed with painful feeling, and wandered on every spot around where I supposed the immortal hero had paused to view Limerick, before I took my leave of the place where this good and great man had sojourned. It was a pleasing change to visit the adjoining race-grounds and the turret above them. The extensive and admirable view from it was well-fitted to banish disagreeable thoughts. I have never seen any thing in England superior. I cannot say how much of Munster and Connaught is seen from this eminence; but a great portion of Clare, Tipperary, and Limerick, certainly are. The noble Shannon spreading, winding through, and fertilizing an immense tract of the richest country, displayed its stream to unspeakable advantage. A vast range of mountains, extending

[355]

to the counties of Galway and Tipperary:, swept around. Many noble mansions and fine woods enlivened this delightful panorama. The view is, indeed, transcendently beautiful. We arrived in time for breakfast at our inn. I am truly, Ac. &c.

Limerick, Sept. 10, ,1817.

My Dear L.

You are aware that the articles of Limerick were solemnly confirmed and ratified at West, minster, by the King and Queen of England. By the surrender of this city to General Oinkle, a great positive good was obtained for England: The designs of France were frustrated, her party extinguished, and the glorious revolution of 1688 then, and not till then, finally completed! Till that event took place, the crown was not firmly placed on the head of William; the theatre for foreigners, for mal-contents, (English, Irish, or Scotch) was kept open, and opportunity afforded for the renewed exertions of the heroic valour and extraordinary genius of this people! From this compact, England immediately received stipulated and expected benefits. The law of nations [356] cannot be weaker than the municipal and civil law, which requires, where the valuable consideration be given bona fide, that the terms of every contract shall be rigidly fulfilled. This principle is, in fact, at the same moment, the fundamental legislative points of all societies, and cannot be violated without injuring their stability. The surrender of Limerick, in 1691, wisely considered, was the consummation of all the toils of England to civilize Ireland. Henry the Second, surrounded by Irish princes and chieftains, a brave army, and himself one of the most powerful monarchs of Europe, could not have desired more. The pacification of Ireland permitted William to pursue his foreign wars, and to firmly establish himself in England: two points necessary for the completion of the revolution of 1688. The surrender of this noble city ensured them. Henry obtained but the obedience of a small province; William the full dominion of this island by his treaty. The consequence of the English crown was much augmented in Europe, by the success of either king in Ireland, but incomparably more by William’s final triumph there, than by the partial acquisition of the Second Henry. William, in the small principality of Holland, made a glorious stand against French despotism in Europe; but, at the head of all the British isles, where the surrender of Limerick placed him, his rank and power became [357] commanding and terrific; The boon the king gave was small. He granted to his Irish subjects what his Scotch had secured for themselves in the reign of Charles the First; and his English bad taken, in that of Henry the Eighth, liberty of conscience, with security of property!

Peace smiled on the whole empire within, and Europe looked awe-struck on these isles. A party, in England, blighted their fair and smiling promise of harvest, and debarred them of its plenteous fruits. Blind to the great truth, that without civil and religious immunities no colony, or allied nation, ever produces faithful subjects to the parent state; or, regardless of consequences to posterity, the ruling faction, influenced by its connections in Ireland, and by a narrow antipathy to Catholics, caused the flagitious and unprincipled violation of the articles of Limerick. They did not replace the Irish in their former position, but retained the valuable consideration, whilst they cancelled the agreement. Never did British honour suffer so much, and never was worse policy engrafted on a more faithless deed. The country party, which had introduced William, had founded their procedings [sic] on a hatred of arbitrary power; but, in this instance, exercised a purely despotic will; and, though themselves champions of liberty, emulated the cruel act of the revocation of the edict of Nantz by Louis the [358] Fourteenth. The patriot, or whig parties, of succeeding reigns, continued to aggravate the criminality of this memorable infraction, by enacting repeated laws against Catholics, through the temporary ministries and governments of the day, until the bowed spirits of the Irish had nothing left but God, and -the memory of the past, to console or sustain it! Nor did this much aggrieved race dare to raise their heads, till his present majesty, with a soul above all factions, — a freedom from prejudice, like the immortal William himself, — and a calm disdain of the enactments and oppressions of the patriot parties of preceding reigns, — recalled to mind the broken and violated treaty of Limerick; and, gathering its mouldering fragments, — resolved, in part, to redeem the honour of the crown, and pour balm on this ill-used and wretched land!

It has been truly pleasing, my dear L., to (jnd, in all our walks hitherto, the name of his majesty venerated, as the first great benefactor of Ireland since the times of Elizabeth. Is not this a grateful reward for the just king? — honorable to him, and to those who bestow it? — What gem sparkle, in the crown so bright ^s that of justice? — 'What office so glorious for the royal hand, as to raise the afflicted from the earth, to tear from his weak limbs the rusty chain, and, telling him to breathe his native air without farther [359] terrors, to place on his appraised forehead the stamp of freedom! — But there yet remains a great deal to.be done,

Happily the late revolutionary ruler of France had not the wily perseverance of Louis the Fourteenth, or understood, like him, the nature of its parties, and this vulnerable part of the empire, as he did: he knew not, like him, to fan here the sparks of discontent into dangerous flames; but, crude in his conceptions, and acrimonious and hasty in temper, often decided through ill-founded disgust, and mistook the dictum of his own ignorance for the voice of intuition, or of judgment. He despised the Irish, and would not risk an army, or officers here; and, to the circumstance of such a character reigning in France in the late war, it may be attributed, that Limerick was not again made the focus, of civil war, and the Shannon a channel for foreign troops. Had that person read history, and profited by it, — had he studied the records of the “Bureau des affaires étrangers” with care, and had as well appreciated the Irish character as the generals of Louis the Fourteenth, — strange scenes might have presented themselves, and many a statesman been not a little embarrassed in jour empire. But, like James the Second, the late French governor doubted the courage and firmness of Irishmen, and sent no St. Ruth to fortify the [360] western side of the Shannon, and seize on Limerick!

The capitulation of Limerick forms an era, from whence a century has flowed, full of real danger to the empire. A revolution in England, which established the laws and constitution so nobly, was, however, very imperfect as to the empire which left Ireland without the just benefits of either! Had William and his parliament, on the fall of Limerick, confirmed and improved the articles then granted, the whole fabric of the great edifice had been completed and strengthened. The Union of 1800 has not yet repaired these fatal errors. The great minister who formed it made a compact with the Protestant party of Ireland only, and left the question of the violated articles of this city, from whence I write, untouched. The difficulties of that Union seem to me to arise from attempting to mix the English and Irish constitutions together. The English parliament and government cannot admit Catholics, it is said, with propriety, and adherence to their fundamental laws; but.no objection of this kind could have been applied to an Irish parliament and ministry. At Limerick, in 1691, the Catholics asked or thought of no admission to the English parliament. Mr. Pitt, whose prodigious struggles latterly against French despotism I cannot sufficiently admire, proposed the intermingling of Irish with English gentle

[361]

men in parliament, at London, as a good way of softening party-fury on Irish questions, and with considerable reason. But he either contemplated the perpetual exclusion of Irish Catholic gentry, or he did not. If he did, he treated the Catholic body with cruelty and duplicity, — if he did not, it became him to shew how they might be admitted without infringing the constitution of 1688, in England. And, if he could not prove their admissibility, or meant their exclusion, it had been better to have formed no Union, rather than a very unsatisfactory one! But it is so unpleasing to censure a noble and departed character, that I rather impute to Mr. Pitt the hope that the prejudices of England would give way, if an Union gave her more ease in governing Ireland, than I do wrong designs or egregious mistake. That experiment, however, will not, I fear, unless much amended, be able to encounter the hazards another continental war nSay bring, as it is attended by many and dangerous inconveniences, as well as by great apparent good. Like the treaty at Limerick, it is but a covenant fulfilled only on one side. You will see, my dear L., how I have fallen into political remarks.

The history of this city is so important, and the last capitulation bears to this day so much upon the consideration of Ireland’s political constitution, [369] that I am naturally led into them. If the Union of 1800 seems to me a very feeble I mode of harmonizing Ireland, without thoroughly

repairing the national crime of violated faith in 1691, I, who have no minister or party to please, but have seen a great deal of Ireland, and have seriously observed the vast strength of her people, may venture to say so. The bulk of the Irish nation was omitted in Mr. Pitt’s treaty of 1800 with the parliament in Dublin, and in 1691 it was defrauded of its rights. The revolution of 1688 was not intended to give liberty to England, and take it altogether from Ireland. Artful and prejudiced men have perverted it to that purpose; but the spirit of those times went quite another way. William certainly came not as aa oppressor to Ireland. How. she is to be redressed is now a difficult question. Far from entering into a subject, chiefly fit for ministers and princes, I drop the pen ,but, doing so, add, that they will not be justified in remaining stationary, or waiting “till they can see their way,” least the storms and waves of time may arise, and, beating on the weak part of our great vessel, the plank may give way, and every pump be exerted in vain! To-morrow, I think, will be our last day in Limerick; and, small as the pedestrian’s preparations are, they now compel me to lay aside my paper.

363]

Limerick.

You will readily believe, my dear L., that I am no speculative reformer, forming visions out of unreal things, and fancying men fit for Utopian scenes. The orators and advocates of the Catholic cause, in and out of parliament, have argued too much in the wild fields of abstract right, and universal toleration, tx satisfy my understanding in regard to the state of this country. The sublime and eloquent Rousseau can well describe what man ought to be, or might be; but the pedestrian, who sees the community in its undress, and observes its various passions and prejudices, will be sure rather to take man as he is, and as he actually stands, in relation to others; he endeavours to find what, thus viewed, he wants, or is fit for, without the injury of others, or derangement of the state. In going so much among them, as we have done in the country, we find the people at large possessed of no fantastic ideas, or schemes of change, which too often are the children of revenge and disappointment. In all I write relative to Ireland, I have in view the just interests of the whole community, and wish for adjustment of its parts in a plain old-fashioned maimer, without partial preference erf any.

History is less a guide to declaimers than their own passions; but the one produces facts, the

[364]

other assertions. Since his majesty’s accession, the Protestant whi^-party raised up ideas of false grandeur in Ireland, gratifying to themselves, but injurious to England, yet without a word of the capitulation of Limerick. In more recent times, it has grown fashionable to defend the Catholics, but with palpable neglect of our more ancient history. The true ground to have taken, was the proffer of Henry the Second, viz. — British laws and liberties to Irish subjects.

In the reigns of Henry the Third, Edward the First, Edward the Third, and Richard the Second, the people of Ireland often and respectfully petitioned the throne for the fulfilment of the second Henry’s bond. The distractions of civil war suspended the claim. The sagacious Henry the Seventh admitted it. The despotic reigns of Henry the Eighth, Mary, Elizabeth, and of the Stuarts, created a. fearful anarchy in Ireland, which left little room for political adjustment. These monarchs wished to new-model Ireland, without regard to circumstances, — one set of them to make it Protestant, — another Catholic — bnt none acted on the good old plan of their great predecessor in Ireland, to receive all subjects under English protection, and equally imparted laws. William came as the great mediator between all the Irish subjects, and at the surrender of Limerick a balance among them was formed.

[365]

Unfortunately, we see that the friends of freedom in England, in 1691, were the advocates of slavery in Ireland, and it was overset. A temperate and respectful setting forth before parliament of the expediency and propriety of re-adjusting it, and giving this country, in all its parts, rational independence, such as Henry the Second, as Edward the First, and as the hero of Poictiers and Cressy meditated in periods of lei* sure to have bestowed, must, long ago, have done much to meliorate things between Ireland and England. But the pleading of the cause has been mismanaged, and the tribunal which was to decide has been irritated, insulted, and menaced, when it should have been informed, persuaded, and, if possible, convinced! If Irish Catholics be now discontented, they have their own parliamentary and other advocates to blame, rather than an august parliament, and a great and generous country; they have their own impetuosity to lament, and the vague and chimerical colouring put on their claims, to deplore: from an .illustrious prince they certainly had cause for hoping more speedy benevolent aid; but they ought not to despair of receiving it, though it come tardily.

The Catholics have more to do. They should convince the Protestants of Ireland of the sincerity and liberality of their affection, and disprove all wish fpr superiority and violent assumption of

[366]

power. In the counties, they should act on all these grounds, and cease to have the illusive form of a council in the metropolis, which, however composed of talent, learning, and genius, cannot stand in. lieu of the whole people, uttering to England the .simple unadulterated language of the heart, and imploring, on the tomb of Henry the Second, the privileges he intended tor all his subjects of Ireland. They may be heard, through counsel, at the bar of the Houses of Commons and Lords. Their petitions should be quite different from those of recent years, — founded on expediency, — historic matter well reasoned, and equally free from visionary ideas, or bombastic language. They ought to be persuaded they cannot advance by menace, and may alienate by avowed antipathy.

I write these free sentiments to you, my dear L. You like discussion. I shall never insult you as an Englishman oppressing this country, but rather endeavour to win your understanding, to pardon its numerous errors, through the immensity of its suffering, and the long delay of its relief. They are sentiments which no party or prince could purchase, but I hope, in some degree, they will be found worthy your truly enlightened and liberal mind. They spring from faithful observation of a whole people, and if they be erroneous, may at least lead others to something new and better. For, as I said in a late letter, [367] in allusion to the local peculiarities of Ireland, that things cannot go on as they are, so I may repeat of political and greater matters.

No theories of reform are wanting here; some plain, practical good, dispensed by your prince and parliament, now having leisure, in time of peace, will make this island very happy, and render her a steady ally to your throne in times of convulsion abroad, or amongst yourselves at home. But I sincerely hope that the royal personage at the head of affairs will feel that continual delay may be interpreted, with some plausibility, into desertion of the oppressed, and may hereafter cast a shade over his brightest glories; and that your minister, whose equanimity and powerful understanding all unprejudiced men must greatly admire, will reflect, that his noble termination of war will want half its merit, if he does not embody in his unclouded mind every petition of the Irish since the days of Henry the Third, and, expanding his views, become himself their advocate, and the accomplisher of general harmony at home. Difficulties should not deter him in the godlike cause, and the approbation of every good man in the empire will hail his steps. Such a man ought not to regard place or power, but as instrumental for public good. If he once clearly discern the latter to be inseparably united with grand, effectual, and speedy relief for Ireland, he will not hesitate [366].

As we are going to take our last walk near Limerick, and the day is extremely fine, I shall conclude, and dispatch this letter, which I fear you have already thought too long.

I am, &c. &c.

Limerick, Sept. 11, 1817.

My Dear L.

Our walk yesterday carried us into the county of Clare, and across Thomond -bridge, which gives some painful recollections of the brave fellows who perished on it at the great siege by General Ginkle. I am sorry to write that the distress of the country augments. We hear of fever everywhere around, and it is scarcely safe to go into or near any cottage.

As we were admiring a fine prospect of the country and the Shannon yesterday, a very pallid and weak man came out of a cottage near us, about twelve feet square. He was recovering from fever. He told us his story. “ Three or four years ago, he possessed, with some of his family, a good farm of fifty acres. Before the lease expired, it was taken over his head, at a rent of five or six pounds the acre, by a monied [369] land-jobber. He was compelled to leave it, and become a common labourer. Distress and poverty had since almost worn himself and little family from the earth. He had long been ill of the prevailing fever, but was now convalescent..”

What! a land-system everywhere? and how culpable were many landlords and great farmers to encourage it. But when we admit the leading feature of the age to be love of money, our wonder will instantly cease. The prevailing sentiment, we now almost daily hear, is, “No matter how it is, the poor must suffer;” but unmixed with acrimony; for the resignation of this people under want, and every species of misery, is admirable. They feel practically, if they do not understand historically, how long they have been held in mournful degradation; and they mean to convey to a person of genteel appearance, the touching remark, that their deliverance from long-enduring sorrow is still delayed. A deep and melancholy tone often accompanies the remark I mention, and which we have a thousand times heard . with but small variation.

We saw, on our last walk, the house of the person’s family who shewed King William the ford across the Shannon. It is solitary and old. The man obtained a grant of lands, which his family hold to this day, but the superstitious people think they have not thriven on the estate.

The Shannon looked extremely beautiful yesterday, [970] and we saw it to great advantage by?i, siting a charming small island which is in it, about two miles from Limerick inland. On this, Mr. Tuthill, who has contended for the honour of re, presenting Limerick in the Imperial Parliament, occasionally resides, in a most commodious and elegant villa, placed in the midst of a garden, washed by the Shannon’s lovely waves. This gentleman had the kindness to favour us with a view of his delightful residence. His unaffected politeness made us enjoy our little excursion very much. The view upwards, on the enchanting Shannon, cannot be excelled. His verdant banks, covered with cattle, and adorned by charming villas at intervals (whilst William’s ruined castle in the distance crowned the bewitching scene), filled us with admiration.

Mr. T. informed us an action had been fought OH this island, as bones were frequently discovered, and that a covered-way had formerly existed. I omitted to ask him if General Ginkle had crossed here, or in what part. The ford William crossed is in view of this island, which forms the most, pleasing retreat imaginable. Mr. T.’s gardens and green-houses are very elegant; genuine taste pervades them and the house. To complete the beauty of the Shannon here, a tree has grown about half a mile from Mr. T.’s island, in its centre, on a rocky, or hard spot, and has a singular and pleasing effect.

[371] We left this island, and its hospitable possessor, with regret. Never have I seen a residence more formed for happy repose and study. It invites, and almost compels the mind to reflection; and as its access is only by means of occasional cots, which are used by fishermen with singular dexterity in the rapid and often impetuously violent stream of the Shannon, there can belittle or no interruption to meditation or business here, or to the occasional enjoyment of select society. We returned to Limerick partly along the Shannon, and having now seen all its environs, and made the most interesting researches we could, propose to leave it early to-morrow morning.

I forgot to mention that I have seen the Bishop of Limerick, whose learnings benevolence, and suavity of manners, do honour to his station. His lordship stated to me, that the magnitude of the present distress, in and about Limerick, was beyond conception, and that every one-s private funds for charity were nearly exhausted. He appeared pleased with the idea of our tour, which proposed to combine utility with something of literature, and gave it the encouragement of a liberal mind, feeling well-disposed to any thing which mighty in a rational manner, tend to better the condition of Ireland. Nor did we omit visiting the Catholic prelate of this great city, a most amiable and respectable character [372] also. He corroborated all the statement of Dr. Warburton, as to the general suffering, and none can know it better than the Catholic clergy.

The fever-hospital begins to be crowded, and it b to be feared this populous city will afford it ioaumerable patients. Many of the inferior Catholic ecelesiastics hare fallen victims to the conscimtious discharge of their duty in visiting the dying.

Accounts have also reached Limerick of the lamented death of Judge Osborn, and of Mr. Ridgeway, a barrister, both most worthy and highly-endowed characters. The judge, on returning from circuity took his crier (who had grown ill) into his own carriage. Alas! by this act of humanity, he lost his life. He took the fever, and never recovered. But round the couch of this dying judge, eminent for his talents, benevolence, and pity, hovered applauding angels! and the hand of Heaven, which recalled him hence, smoothed the sufferer’s brow as he departed!

As this pestilence has ragged above three months, I could not forbear transmitting to the Irish government an account of the misery arising from it which we have already witnessed on our tour, and a plan for establishing fever-hospitals in remote or mountainous districts, where dispensary, hospital, nor apothecary, are to be seen. I am quite sure, my dear L., that all smaller considerations of roads or works should give way to [373] the promptest and most vigorous ideas of checking this fatal malady; nor is there any ground to suppose that government will not adopt every precaution, and use every exertion. Already they have done much in Dublin. I feel deeply for the sufferers in the country parts from fever; they may not, however, know the extent of it I fear we shall have further communications to make, as we are determined not to relax in any of the objects of our walk.

At this moment, when my mind’s eye runs over the vast population of this island, in villages, towns, and cities, — in vallies, and on mountain sides, — in gleiis, and on wild heath, and commons of nature, — 1 shudder at the varied and complicated scenes of wretchedness which may be now existing in them! At this period of the pestilence, the grasping hand of death may be in some measure stayed. What pure and lasting happiness shall I not feel, my dear L., if our pedestrian labours in the south and west of Ireland, humble as they are, shall in any way help to alleviate the sorrows of thousands! The govemnient, I know, feel deeply and rightly for this unfortunate country, under its present suffering from fever, and is composed of many persons of humanity, as well as great talents, and, I think, will not overlook information on the most interesting of all subjects touching the health and lives of so many fellow-creatures.

[374] In our rural walk, I want neither to intrude nor dictate, but, pursuing our laborious and diversified way, to perform to government and people a sacred duty, as far as lies in my power.

I shall now close this short letter. To-morrow we enter Gonnaught, according to the old dmsion by Queen Elizabeth (and indeed to that of nature), though by some freak of geography, iClare has been since given to Munster.

Believe me, &c. &c.

Nemarket, on Ferg, Co. of Clare, Sept. 12, 1817.

MY DEAR L.

This morning we left the memorable city of Limerick. Our last view from the end of Thomond-bridge was very fine. The walls and towers, venerably picturesque, and still very lofty, hang over the Shannon’s azure waves, as the city and distant shipping formed a noble picture to the right. The Shannon yields to none of the rivers of Ireland in the beauty of his colour. Today it looks as blue, and much grander than the Seine at Paris.

As we proceeded, the Clare mountains rose, ^nd spread with many charms before us; light [375] shadows, and yellow patches of grain, marked their green sides, as a graceful waving line terminated their summits. The road proved level and good, having these mountains on tlte right, and the Shannon at a distance on the left. Our way ran through fine meadows, spreading a great expanse of verdure, to the river; and as we began to ascend, a vast amphitheatre of mountains met the eye. The opposite banks of the prince of streams appeared, covered with rich woods, mansions, and here and there a towering and ruined castle. As we arrived at Crattogh-woods, we seemed lost in the picturesque of Wales, and a charming cottage nestling in them, completed the illusion. From a small chapel near, there is a prodigious fine view of the Shannon, enriched by surrounding scenery, on which the pleased eye dwells with rapture!

The day proved very fine, and the harvest went on merrily in every field. We saw many fine crops of wheat and oats. Reaping and haymaking employed every busy hand, and the joyous laugh, and jocund Irish song, frequently struck our ears. We did not perceive as much flax as we wished.

Carrick, a Gallian castle, makes a very noble object on the other side the Shannon in this walk, as well as the seats of Colonel Moncell, Mr. Irving, -and Mr. Cowper.

It is quite impossible to do justice, my dear L., [376] to the riches and grandeur of these landscapes by any description. Again floated through my busy mind, an early aboriginal period, when harvest, as now —

''Crown’d with the sickle, and the wheaten sheaf
Came nodding on,”

And the fervent prayer swelled in my breast, that other golden times may come for these poor people amongst whom we walk.

Directed to avoid the six-mile bridge-road, we turned to the left in our progress to Newmarket, and from an eminence beheld, at the end of a great plain, chiefly fine' meadow, Bunratty-castle, an ancient seat of the O’Briens. New and beautiful glimpses of the Shannon shone in the rays of the sun, and the venerable buildings once possessed by a royal house, gave high interest to the picture before u^. The Kerry and Limerick mountains rose in the far distant back-ground. Numerous and handsome seats continued to adorn the noble river which was winding his way to the ocean, increasing in grandeur and breadth, and accompanying us on this enchanting walk.

Bunratty-castle is an ancient pile, of much grandeur. Its front is enclosed between two high square towers, — wooded hills ascend behind. The kings of Munster once resided occasionally there; perhaps, top, the truly renowned and royal hero, Brian Borom.

[377] Hay-making proceeded on all sides, as we approached the castle, and caused a very cheerful appearance in its vicinity. We were very politely permitted, by Mr. Stoddert, who resides in it, to view the interior, which is exceedingly venerable. A great hall, or dining-room, arched with.stone, in a very perfect manner, is still quite entire.

The evening began to fall. We left Bunratty filled with respect foT an ancient pile, which, though shorn of royal splendour, was deserving attention, as the proud record of Ireland’s ancient times! Many of Munster’s kings were learned and illustrious men, and occasionally threw gleams of glory on ferocious ages.

We were obliged to make a rapid progress to Newmarket, continuing it through a fine country. The Shannon had far withdrawn, and his charming landscapes no more allured us on our way; but the wonderful beauty we had been surveying all day, dwelt in our remembrance.

We reached Newmarket on Ferg late, and a good deal fatigued; but this our first pleasing entrance into what we consider Connaught, had so very much gratified us, that we thought our labour well bestowed. From Limerick and its vicinity we perceived the tone of speaking to alter, and become a great deal less disagreeable than that of Munster, as also the manners of the people to grow milder.

At Newmarket we discovered an excellent [378] small inn, beautifully situated at the extremity of the village. We met at it good accommodation of every kind, and a respectable hostess and her daughter, who used every effort to render us comfortable, and to give and procure for us every possible information. As these are attentions pedestrians do not always receive at the head inns in Ireland, they, were the more agreeable to us.

Though the unrivalled beauties of the way had so much pleased us, a walk of sixteen or seventeen Irish miles did not fail to be felt, and made the reception we met with from Mrs. Serjeant, our worthy landlady, very welcome. To pedestrians, such a circumstance is often of great consequence, and contributes much to their progress the following day. A refreshing repose, in excellent beds, made us quite alert the succeeding morning. In dressing I perceived, for the first time, and at the stables of our inn, a kind of horse-police, facetiously called, by the Irish — Peelers, from the secretary’s name who has introduced them, in hope of tranquillizing a country which, alas! my dear 1^., is already but too much burthened by expensive establishments, and whose agriculture can scarcely bear two years more the rents and imposts it is loaded with! These police are paid by the baronies, or parishes, where they are quartered, in case of turbulence; and the expence, we are told, in some [379 places, amounts to eight or ten shillings the acre. They have been of considerable service, it is said, in several parts of this county, and if the objection as to laying another burthen on the land could be avoided, might for some time be a valuable and unexceptionable aid to the magistrates, 1 apprehend, such expensive establishments must go a great way to absorb revenue, and can no more restrain , a great population tharf the chains Xerxes ordered to be thrown into the sea could the Hellespont. The expence of one of these flying corps of Peelers is not less than £ 4,000 in a district annually.

The situation of our inn proved as beautiful in the morning as our reception the night before had been agreeable. Mrs. . — ,our landlady’s daughter, shewed us some prospects near the house, which were very fine. We again recognized the far-distant Shannon, winding through a continued landscape.. Newmarket on Ferg, (which beings prettily seated on an inlet of the Shannon, is so called) has suffered dreadfully from the fever. At this town, and in its neighbourhood, it has, until this last week, raged like' a plague. '' We knew not,'' said our pleasing and intelligent guide, Mrs. ——, “;in the morning, of what death we should hear; or, at night, who could be said to lie down in safety. Funerals were frequent, and mourning in every house. But when we were almost in despair, [380] he hand of God arrested this malady, and we are now tolerably free from it.”

The death of Miss Colpoys, a most amiable and benevolent young lady, residing near Newmarket, has been universally lamented. Siie caught this direful fever by ministering to the wants of the poor, and giving them food with her own hands. In a week she was no more! Young and charming, she fell an early victim to her humanity! The Catholic bishop, who is a most worthy and dignified character, near this, has just lost, by the same cruel disease, a beloved nephew, of high respectability, and the father of a young family. When such characters frdl, what must be the fate of the wretched inhabitants of the mud -walled cottages we have seen in Clare! and in and near this village! It is from such abodes of poverty that this pestilence emanates — it is in them it lurks, — and from their inmates is infection so often personally caught. I do not know if any more recent instance of plague occurs than that in 1690 and 91, (of which Iretoo died at Limerick) so general and fatal as the present disorder!

However pleased we are with this inn, and the fine country which smiles round it, you will not wonder that our feelings have been peculiarly saddened at Newmarket on Ferg. It is but lately that the horrors of famine pressed the poor people down, and nearly drove them to deeds of [381] desperation! Mrs. —— , told us a pleasant anecdote of their folly some months ago, when tumultuously assembling to procure food in' any manner they could. A worthy clergyman, who had a pretty villa near our inn, diverted himself by lighting up a summer-house and some surrounding palisades, in manner of fortifications, with gas-lights; and, on particular nights, discharging muskets and small cannon! A party of the starving people had resolved (on one of his state rejoicing-nights) to go to Dromoland, and seize all the provisions they could in Sir Edward O’Brien’s absence. They proceeded to the number of several hundreds; but seeing the gas-lights, and hearing some firing, they turned, fled, and dispersed! I am happy to add, that Sir Edward O’Brien soon after arrived at home, and, by generous and great relief to the poor, much lessened their disposition to outrage of this kind! We hasten on our way. Believe me ever your’s, &c. &c.

Crutheeuy Sept. IS, 1817.

My Dear L.

After viewing Mr. Palmer’s house and gardens, we took leave of the respectable family at [382] our inn, who, by their attentions, had made our pedestrian tour very agreeable to us in this part of the country. The weather was unpromising; but our time and the advanced season compelled us to proceed.

We very soon reached the beautiful lodge and entrance to Dromoland, the noble seat of Sir Edward O’Brien, a lineal descendant of the royal house of O’Brien. The lodge is one of the best taste and chastest execution we have seen, well-suiting the grandeur of Dromoland. From thence the avenue sweeps through extensive grounds and woods to the house. This venerable mansion stands on a gentle eminence, surrounded by noble trees, and overlooks a large and beautiful lake beneath the windows. The opposite hills rise gracefully above it, and form a lovely amphitheatre circling round, and blending with the groves and verdant meadows of Dromoland. From these hills are various views of the Shannon and country. The ancient appearance of the mansion-house, on which ivy had thrown here and there its leaves of glossy-green, was pleasing to us, as being far superior to that of many modern buildings. Sir Edward O’Brien received us with great politeness. The interior of the house is noble, and many good paintings very much gratified us. Those of Lord Clarendon, Queen Anne, Duchess of York, (wife of James the Second) and of Lord Clarendon’s two sons, are in [383] a small room adjoining the drawing-room. There was a connection in Queen Anne’s time between Lord Clarendon’s and the O’Brien family. The picture of the Duchess of York is a beautiful one. I believe there is a second of Queen Anne, but I do not exactly recollect. The pictures of the Queen and. of Lord Clarendon are good. This little selection is valuable, and highly interesting. On the stair-case a fine figure, painted as large as life, of the royal hero Brian Borom, an ancestor of the respected owner of Dromoland, met our view. It is very respectably execute, and has great animation! The king sits on horseback, and seems directing an army. Dublin an^l Ciontarfe appear in the distant ground. His countenance is animated by conscious rectitude, and the hope of liberating his country beams through it. Brian was called to the throne of Ireland, from that of Munster, at the age of seventy, and, at that of eighty-eight, fought the battle of Ciontarfe against the Danes and those Irish who encouraged them; for history informs us, that these foreigners were instigated to rise against the monarch of Ireland by mal-content Irish.

After former historic studies, it was certainly a high gratification to see, at Dromoland, this picture. It is equally wrong to raise history to a fabulous and incredible point of fictitious glory, as to degrade it by unfair and dishonour [384] able depreciation, or by ridicule of its briglitesi parts.

This King of Munster does not yield to an English Alfred in public or private virtues. — Their object was the same — tx free their country from piratic and ferocious Danes. Success crowned Alfred; and men generally attribute all merit to it. The Irish king had but too many of his own subjects to contend with! many of them encouraged the Danes to resist the patriotic plans of improving the constitution and government of Ireland. His enlarged views did not suit the haughtiness of rival houses, and the licentiousness of degenerate and turbulent factions. Envy raised her snakey heads, in every corner, against this patriot king and hero; and he fell at Clontarfe, happily for himself, in the bosom of glory, and spared the pangs of his old age being bowed down by a country’s ingratitude, or an enemy’s success.

The rival feuds of royal Irish houses, and the arrogance and renewed power of the Danes, ' which followed his decease, evince this clearly. It is not certain if this king was killed in his tent, or died at Kilmainham of his wounds. He refused the request of his son to abstain from the battle. He beautifully exemplified the saying, “Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.”

Brian had contemplated forming a fleet to protect Ireland; but it is quite evident, from the [385] radical vices of the constitution of your govern-, nient, and the strong footing the Danes had got, as well as from the vanity and insubordination of the Irish of those times, leading them to detest and embarrass a superior genius at home, that he must have failed in this, as in his other plans — worthy, indeed, of an Alfred! but incapable of succeeding through the causes I mention. But to the immortal hero himself may well be applied the great poet’s eulogium, that-^', His name and honour shall endure till time be no more!'*

The loss at the battle of Clontarfe was nearly equal on each side — about four thousand; It is not to be omitted, that one of the petty despots, a King of Meath, look no part on the occasion; but looked on with his troops, and retired after the action.

In the gallery above the stair-case, where this picture of the patriot king was, we saw several very good ones, and a remarkable fine portrait of some character unknown, done by Vandyke. There was, also, a Spanish table of curious workmanship and large size; extremely handsome, and in the antique style of fashionable furniture of those times. It had been cast on the shore of Ireland when the Spanish armada had been dispersed. That event caused the shipwreck of many Spanish vessels on these coasts, with troops, treasures, and stores on board. [386] Here were, also, a pair of elk’s horns, an animal long extinct in Ireland, and most parts of Europe.

Sir Edwamd O’Brien had the goodness to shew us these interesting pictures himself, adding highly to our gratification by the remarks of an enlightened mind, and by that generous politeness which eminently distinguishes, above most men, the true Irish gentleman.

From the drawing-room windows, the charming lake of Dromoland, on which the pladd swans moved about, appears very beautiful. Though the day was unfavourable, nothing could hide (though the misty atmosphere somewhat diminished) the beauties of the scene.

Sir Edward and Lady O’Brien treated us with an hospitality peculiarly pleasing to pedestrians, who find the occasional charms of refined conversation and manners the best refreshment on their toilsome and devious way. Sir Edward directed us himself to the best path through his fine demesnes, and we left Dromoland, pleased with every scene, and gratified by every moment wc had enjoyed there. Sir Edward O’Brien is a good agriculturist, without too much devoting himself to forming, and by his residence employs many. In the late famine, this family opened wide the stores of private bounty.

We hasten from this princely place on our way to Quin Abbey, a very few miles distant. Our [387] walk led us; by private r6ads, along the small river of Qtriti, to this ancient ruin. We were astonished at beholding it. Quin Abbey is one of the most perfect ruins in Ireland, and of wonderful beauty. Its tower, cloisters, and aisles, deserve great attention. There we saw an incredible quantity of bones and sculls, long blanched by time’s resistless hand — they were piled in great quantities in the abbey. What awful records, my dear L., of the past! How many busy and thinking beings were these whitened fragments of mortality once! . Some devoted to war, some to religion, some to commerce, or agriculture! — all now silent, and alike insensible to the howling blast and cold rains, or snows of winter, as to the sweet charms of a spring, or summer-day! The day proved wet; and as we strayed through the venerable and finely gothic aisles and cloisters of this abbey, we felt these melancholy truths, for we pedestrians were but humbly journeying on to close our short career, and be no more known! There is a church as well as monastery at Quin. There seems, and have been there, two parts of religious establishment at most of the ruins we meet. I apprehend that education and devout retirement occupied one, and the exercises of religious worship the other. From the introduction of Christianity, Ireland indubitably became distinguished for learning and piety in less than a century. These magnificent [388] remains remind us of it. 1 am not, as I have often told you, an antiquarian; and, indeed, we have scarcely time to spare from studying the present living hour, for all the minute and distant points of antiquity. Some ruins we , behold may have flourished before, — others after the coming of the English. That which I incline to call the monastic era in Ireland, commencing at the period I state, was certainly favourable to every thing noble and glorious in the human mind.

As late as the time of Henry the Second, we perceive the Irish clergy struggling for the liberty of the subject against the petty despots of the island. And at the monastic era, it is clear they were, as far as circumstances permitted them, the guardians of learnings freedom, and law! The Roman power had fallen, and a dark and double despotism was rising over continental Europe, in its emancipated kingdoms. Their kings and their clergy were favourable to the ignorance and superstition which gave despotic power to each; biit, in Ireland, Christianity breathed a far more benign influence! It very much softened and restrained the arbitrary power of its numerous little despotisms, and being unpolluted by the manners and vices of the Continent, had a more powerful and better effect, on a smaller space, than elsewhere could be found.

The Anglo-Saxon nobles and princes, and even [389] those from other parts, catne to Ireland in those times for instruction, or retirement; and Mrere hospitably and nobly received! Ireland then sent learned and pious men, as missionaries, to enlighten other parts of Europe; and the gleam of liberty and religion, which burst from her verdant island, is a high proof of the intellect and love of learning which, to this hour, distinguishes her inhabitants. Petty despots respected religion in Ireland, when nothing else over-awed them. And the monastic era, which endured till the coming of the Danes in the beginning of the eighth century, gave Ireland more repose and spread more civilization than the thousand preceding years. Then, truly, Christianity shone with unclouded lustre in one favoured spot; and the learned and pious men, who, devoid of all political and selfish purposes, administered the rights of its worship; cultivated, and communicated the light of ancient and modern learning, and raised a barrier between an enslaved people and haughty princes, — are entitled to lasting veneration!

The Abbey of Quin well merits every traveller’s observation. We could not leave it without 0, mournful sigh. We recollected Glendaloch. That, too, an asylum for learning; we could not but grieve, that the human mind in Ireland, through a thousand conflicting and unfortunate circumstances, had fallen into neglect, and that [390] the lustre of its powers bad been dimmed by unwise oppression, and the fatal endurance of a system, withering its buds and blossoms for so many centuries!

Let me not be thought to repeat such a reflection too often. Surely, if governments suppress learning and genius, they have no ground to censure the ignorance and barbarity which afterwards produce insubordination and violences!

The Danes disturbed the monastic era in Ireland by the most ferocious outrages. They directed their ravages against every learned and religious house, and were animated by a truly barbaric spirit. Glendaloch, that romantic, and almost sublime seat of the muses, and of piety, to which I introduced you in our first walk, fell a sacrifice to their brutal fury. Conquerors of a rude description war against the mind, its productions, and its classic retreats, with instinctive fury.

In modern days, the late ruler of France, it is said, had begun to cause the finest works of the ancient poets and historians to be maimed, and deprived of their noblest and most exalted passages. Such were some o( his improvements!

I cannot acquit, as much as I desire, the English from depressing and destroying the ancient learning of Ireland! We find very early statutes against her language — one of the most venerable and noble in the world; and the disappearance of [391] her poetry, her harps, her music, her religious and classic seminaries, speaks woefully, though not altogether against them in this point!

The Danes had done much/in three hundred years previous possession of great part of the ^und, and I much suspect that the petty despots themselves were poor encouragers of literature and genius. All combined, and acted in various ways to extinguish them; and the beautiful ruins we have just quitted are one among many silent testimonies of what Ireland was, and what she has suffered. I allude to her monastic era. Since its extinction, the lamp of science and poetry has but glimmered through the storm.

Elizabeth herself, a scholar of no ordinary merits and perhaps, (if she had not been destined to be the slave of party, and a queen) a star of brilliant light in higher regions than those of politics, used war and religious persecution against Ireland and her sanctuaries.

The Stuarts, who affected to patronize learning and the arts, but sought arbitrary power, by corrupt or cruel means, abandoned this land to adventurers, who were no great favourers of Irish learning or talent. Cromwell tried extermination and exile. William and Anne proscribed by statute. What result have we? An immense unimproved and. unhappy population, mouldering ruins, and a silent country, where the harp lumbers, poetry but murmurs a little, [392] and the vigorous pen of genius lies unused in the shade!

When you visit the Abbey of Quin you will not be surprized at these thoughts. It is really very grands and its aisles reminded us of Westminster Abbey. A new church is building near it, however, which will somewhat injure the lonely and grand picturesque of this most venerable scene. The village near the Abbey is wretched; the cabins very poor.

Leaving the Abbey of Quin, we proceeded along a wild road, and, as the day improved, saw many distant mountains. There is great poverty in Clare, and the miserable attempt to ^ell unlicensed spirits in their mud-cottages scarcely excites displeasure; in a country where there is no trade, where agriculture is overwhelmed, and the people too numerous, nature struggles to procure some livelihood, and labour and fatigue seeks some humble refreshment.

In our walks we repeatedly experience the inconvenience springing from the great poverty of a country which affords no ale for travellers; — is not permitted to sell or use the humble homemade whiskey; — and has no orchards to produce cyder!

In the evening we stopped at a village called Spancer Hill. There the houses are poor, but a few neatly thatched ones are respectable. We smiled to exchange the splendid scene of Dromoland, [393] in a few hours, for the very humble reception and fare of Spancer Hill. But the pedestrian is cheered by variety. He delays not long on his path, and, from the meanest views of human nature, enriches his stores.

Spancer Hill is encompassed by singular round hills, but the country wants wood, and the land is too dear to permit improvement. They commonly give six guineas per acre for their potatoe ground. On leaving this village, the evening sun broke out in full splendour, lighted every hill and small lake in this picturesque country, and, penetrating the humble cottage, beamed on the scanty furniture within. The Clare people are civil and friendly, and give every information or direction they could. The high rents afflict them in a considerable manner, and in their conversation we perceived a kind of despair, mingled with the hope that landlords and great farmers must yield the vain pretension of holding them up at war-rates. How happy for Ireland, my dear L., if all had brought them down promptly, and with a good grace, when the markets fell. What pains might have been saved! — What riots avoided! — What idle precautions been made unnecessary! I greatly incline to think agricultural produce must yet be left to find its own level. Perhaps (as they have it, by some old custom in Guernsey) landlords, by taking the rents in corn, will, in the end, find the [394] just price of their lands. Many landlords hate thought it a good expedient to take cattle, or any commodity tenants may have, in lieu of rent they cannot get. This must strip every farm of! stocky and ruin the tenant for the ensuing year. On our way the robin sung his. evening lay in the hedge, and the narrow rural road we followed became very pleasing. We passed Moriarty, a handsome wooded place of Major Macnamara’s, and had a distant view of Ennis. As the evening fast closed upon us we reached an irregular but beautiful lake, on a distant bank of which stood a small ruined castle. The rural toils of the day were endings and the cottagers everywhere bringing home cattle, or plying little household cares at their doors. Loughgullion spread its whispering waters along the road at our feet, and the coot murmured among the reeds. As we grew fatigued we saw, with pleasure, the small village of Crusheen, situated in Jnchieronan Lake. We were now entering Connaught (according to its last division), and began to perceive one of its peculiarities and great beauties — the picturesque and frequent lake scattered through it. We had seen several this day. We found an old ruined hous, converted into a tolerable inn, at Crusheen, and met great civility, an humble supper, and very clean good beds. The manners of the people have become very mild. We meet kindness and great readiness [395] to oblige in all parts. We ask ourselves, is this Connaught, represented to us as wild and impassable? But we shall know more presently. I now bid you adjeu, &c. &c.