The Wild Irish Girl: A National Tale

by Lady Morgan

  LETTER I.

  TO J. D. ESQ., M. P.

  _Dublin, March_, ----, 17----

  I remember, when I was a boy, meeting somewhere with the quaintlywritten travels of _Moryson_ through Ireland, and being particularlystruck with his assertion, that so late as the days of Elizabeth, anIrish chieftain and his family were frequently seen seated round theirdomestic fire in a state of perfect nudity. This singular anecdote (soillustrative of the barbarity of the Irish, at a period whencivilization had made such a wonderful progress even in its sistercountries,) fastened so strongly on my boyish imagination, that wheneverthe _Irish_ were mentioned in my presence, an _Esquimaux_ group circlinground the fire which was to dress a dinner, or broil an enemy, was theimage which presented itself to my mind; and in this trivial source, Ibelieve, originated that early formed opinion of Irish ferocity, whichhas since been nurtured into a _confirmed prejudice_. So true it is,that almost all the erroneous principles which influence our maturerbeing, are to be traced to some fatal association of ideas received andformed in early life. But whatever maybe the _cause_, I feel thestrongest objection to becoming a resident in the remote part of acountry which is still shaken by the convulsions of an anarchicalspirit; where for a series of ages the olive of peace has not beensuffered to shoot forth _one_ sweet blossom of national concord, whichthe sword of civil dissension has not cropt almost in the germ; and thenatural character of whose factious sons, as we are still taught tobelieve, is turbulent, faithless, intemperate, and cruel; formerlydestitute of arts, letters, or civilization, and still but slowlysubmitting to their salutary and ennobling influence.

  To confess the truth, I had so far suffered prejudice to get the startof unbiassed liberality, that I had almost assigned to these rudepeople scenes appropriately barbarous; and never was more pleasantlyastonished, than when the morning’s dawn gave to my view one of themost splendid spectacles in the scene of picturesque creation I had everbeheld, or indeed ever conceived--the bay of Dublin.

  A foreigner on board the packet compared the view to that which the bayof Naples affords: I cannot judge of the justness of the comparison,though I am told one very general and commonplace; but if the scenicbeauties of the Irish bay are exceeded by those of the Neapolitan, myfancy falls short in a just conception of its charms. The springing upof a contrary wind kept us for a considerable time beating about thisenchanting coast; the weather suddenly changed, the rain poured intorrents, a storm arose, and the beautiful prospect which had fascinatedour gaze, vanished in the mists of impenetrable obscurity.

  As we had the mail on board, a boat was sent out to receive it, theoars of which were plied by six men, whose statures, limbs, and featuresdeclared them the lingering progeny of the once formidable race of Irishgiants, Bare headed, they “bided the pelting of the pitiless storm,” with no other barrier to its fury, than what tattered check trousers,and shirts open at neck, and tucked above the elbows afforded; and whichthus disposed, betrayed the sinewy contexture of forms, which might haveindividually afforded a model to sculpture, for the colossal statue ofan Hercules, under all the different aspects of strength and exertion. *

  * This little marine sketch is by no means a fancy picture; it was actually copied from the life, in the summer of 1806.

  A few of the passengers proposing to venture in the boat, I listlesslyfollowed, and found myself seated by one of these sea monsters, who, inan accent that made me startle, addressed me in English at least as pureand correct as a Thames’ boatman would use; and with so much courtesy,cheerfulness, and respect, that I was at a loss to reconcile suchcivilization of manner to such ferocity of appearance; while hiscompanions as they stemmed the mountainous waves, or plied their heavyoars, displayed such a vein of low humour and quaint drollery, and ina language so curiously expressive and original, that no longer able tosuppress my surprise, I betrayed it to a gentleman who sat near me, andby whom I was assured that this species of colloquial wit was peculiarto the lower class of the Irish, who borrowed much of their curiousphraseology from the peculiar idiom of their own tongue, and thecheeriness of manner from the native exility of their temperament; “andas for their courteousness.” he continued, “you will find them on afurther intercourse, civil even to _adulation_, as long as you treatthem with apparent kindness, but an opposite conduct will prove theirmanner proportionably uncivilized.”

  “It is very excusable,” said I, “they are of a class in society to whichthe modification of the feelings are unknown, and to be sensibly aliveto _kindness or to unkindness_, is, in my opinion, a noble trait in thenational character of an unsophisticated people.”

  While we spoke, we landed, and for the something like pleasurableemotion, which the first on my list of Irish acquaintance produced in mymind, I distributed among these “sons of the waves,” more silver than Ibelieve they expected Had I bestowed a principality on an Englishmanof the same rank, he would have been less lavish of the _eloquence_of gratitude on his benefactor, though he might equally have felt the_sentiment_.--So much for my voyage _across the Channel!_

  This city is to London like a small temple of the Ionic order, whoseproportions are delicate, whose character is elegance, compared toa vast palace, whose Corinthian pillars at once denote strength andmagnificence.

  The wondrous extent of London excites our amazement; the compactuniformity of Dublin our admiration. But a dispersion is less within the_coup-d’oil_ of observance, than aggregation, the small, but harmoniousfeatures of Dublin sieze at once on the eye, while the scattered butsplendid traits of London, excite a less immediate and more progressiveadmiration, which is often lost in the intervals that occur betweenthose objects which are calculated to excite it.

  In London, the miserable shop of a gin seller, and the magnificentpalace of a Duke, alternately create disgust, or awaken approbation.

  In Dublin the buildings are not arranged upon such democraticprinciples. The plebian hut offers no foil to the patrician edifice,while their splendid and beautiful public structures are so closelyconnected, as with _some_ degree of policy to strike _at once_ upon theeye in the happiest combination. *

  * Although in one point of view, there may be a policy in this close association of splendid objects, yet it is a circumstance of general and just condemnation to all strangers who are not confined to a partial survey of the city.

  In other respects this city appears to me to be the miniature copy ofour imperial original, though minutely imitative in show andglare. Something less observant of life’s prime luxuries, order andcleanliness, there are a certain class of wretches who haunt the streetsof Dublin, so emblematic of vice, poverty, idleness, and filth, thatdisgust and pity frequently succeed in the minds of the stranger tosentiments of pleasure, surprise, and admiration. For the origin of thisevil, I must refer you to the supreme police of the city; but whatevermay be the cause, the effects (to an Englishman especially) are dreadfuland disgusting beyond all expression.

  Although my father has a large connexion here, yet he only gave me aletter to his banker, who has forced me to make his house my home forthe few days I shall remain in Dublin, and whose cordiality and kindnesssanctions all that has ever been circulated of Irish hospitality.

  In the present state of my feelings, however, a party on the banks ofthe _Ohio_, with a tribe of Indian hunters, would be more consonant tomy inclinations than the refined pleasures of the most polished circlesin the world. Yet these warm-hearted people, who find in the name ofstranger an irresistible lure to every kind attention, will force me tobe happy in despite of myself, and overwhelm me with invitations, someof which it is impossible to resist. My prejudices have received somemortal strokes, when I perceived that the natives of this barbarouscountry have got goal for goal with us, in every elegant refinement oflife and manners; the only difference I can perceive between a Londonand a Dublin _rout_ is, that here, amongst the first class, there is awarmth and cordiality of address, which, though perhaps not moresincere than the cold formality of British ceremony, is ce
rtainly morefascinating. *

  * “Every unprejudiced traveller who visits them [the Irish] will be as much pleased with their cheerfulness as obliged by their hospitality; and will find them a brave, polite, and liberal people.”--Philosophical Survey through Ireland by Mr. Young.

  It is not, however, in Dublin I shall expect to find the tone ofnational character and manner; in the first circles of all great cities(as in courts) the native features of national character are softenedinto general uniformity, and the genuine feelings of nature aresuppressed or exchanged for a political compliance with the reigningmodes and customs, which hold their tenure from the sanction andexample of the seat of government. Before I close this, I must makeone observation, which I think will speak more than volumes for therefinement of these people.

  During my short residence here, I have been forced, in true spirit ofIrish dissipation, into three parties of a night; and I have upon theseoccasions observed that the most courted objects of popular attention,were those whose talents alone endowed them with distinction. Besidesamateurs, I have met with many professional persons, whom I knew inLondon as public characters, and who are here incorporated in the firstand most brilliant circles, appearing to feel no other inequality, thanwhat their own superiority of genius confers.

  I leave Dublin to-morrow for M-------- house. It is situated in thecounty of ------------, on the northwest coast of Connaught, which Iam told is the classic ground of Ireland. The native Irish, pursued byreligious and political bigotry, made it the asylum of their sufferings,and were separated by a provincial barrier from an intercourse with therest of Ireland, until after the Restoration so I shall have a fairopportunity of beholding the Irish character in all its _primeval_ferocity.

  Direct your next to Bally--------, which I find is the nearest posttown to my _Kamskatkan palace_, where with no other society than thatof Black stone and Co. I shall lead such a life of animal existence, asPrior gives to his Contented Couple--

  “They ate, and drank, and slept--what then?

  Why, slept, and drank, and ate again.”--

  Adieu. H. M.