* Speaking of the people of Ireland, Lord Minto thusexpresses himself: “In these (the Irish) we have witnessedexertions of courage, activity, perseverance, and spirit, aswell as fidelity and honour in fulfilling the engagements oftheir connexion with us, and the Protection and defence oftheir own country, which challenges the thanks of GreatBritain, and the approbation of the world.”
“This has been strongly evinced by the attachment of the Irish to the House of Stuart, by whom they have always been so cruelly, so ungratefully treated. For what the coercive measures of four hundred years could not effect, the accession ofoneprince to the throne accomplished. Until that period, the unconquered Irish, harassing and harassed, struggled for that liberty which they at intervals obtained, but never were permitted to enjoy. Yet the moment a prince of the royal line of Milesius placed the British diadem on his brow, the sword of resistance was sheathed, and those principles which force could not vanquish, yielded to the mild empire of national and hereditary affection: the Irish ofEnglishorigin from natural tenderness, and those of thetrue old stock, from the conviction that they werethengoverned by aPrinceof their own blood. Nor is it now unknown to them, that in the veins of his present majesty, and his ancestors, from James the First, flows the royal blood of thethreekingdoms united.”
“I am delighted to find,” said I, “the lower ranks of a country, to which I am now so endeared, thus rescued from the obloquy thrown on them by prejudiced illiberality; and from what you have said, and indeed from what I have myself observed, I am convinced, that were endeavours for their improvement more strictly promoted, and their respective duties obviously made clear, their true interests fully represented by reason and common sense, and their unhappy situations ameliorated by justice and humanity, they would be a people as happy, contented and prosperous, in a political sense, as in a natural and a national one. They are brave, hospitable, liberal and ingenious.”
We now continued to proceed through a country rich in all the boundless extravagance of picturesque beauty, where Nature’s sublimest features everywhere present themselves, carelessly disposed in wild magnificence; unimproved, and indeed, almost unimproveable by art. The far-stretched ocean, mountains of Alpine magnitude, heaths of boundless desolation, vales of romantic loveliness, navigable rivers, and extensive lakes, alternately succeeding to each other, while the ruins of an ancient castle, or the mouldering remains of a desolated abbey, gave a moral interest to the pleasure derived from the contemplation of Nature in her happiest and most varied aspect.
“Is it not extraordinary,” said I, as we loitered over the ruins of an abbey, “that though your country was so long before the introduction of Christianity inhabited by a learned and ingenious people, yet, that among your Gothic ruins, no traces of a more ancient and splendid architecture are to be discovered. From the ideas I have formed of the primeval grandeur of Ireland, I should almost expect to see a Balbec or Palmyra arising amidst these stupendous mountains and picturesque scenes.”
“My dear sir,” he replied, “a country may be civilized, enlightened, and even learned and ingenious, without attaining to any considerable perfection in those arts, which give to posteritysensiblememorials of its past splendour. The ancient Irish, like the modern, had moresoul, more genius than worldly prudence, or cautious, calculating forethought. The feats of the hero engrossed them more than the exertions of the mechanist; works of imagination seduced them from pursuing works of utility. With an enthusiasm bordering on a species of mania, they were devoted to poetry and music; and to ‘Wake the soul of song’ was to them an object of more interesting importance, than to raise that edifice which would betray to posterity their ancient grandeur Besides, at that period to which you allude, the Irish were in that era of society, when the iron age was yet distant, and the artist confined his skill to the elegant workmanship of gold and brass, which is ascertained by the number of warlike implements and beautiful ornaments of dress of those metals, exquisitely worked, which are still frequently found in the bogs of Ireland.”
“If, however, (said I) there are no remnants of a Laurentinum, or Tusculum to be discovered, I perceive that at every ten or twelve miles, in the fattest of the land, the ruins of an abbey and its granaries are discernable.”
“Why, (returned the priest, laughing) you would not have the good father abbots advise the dying, but generous sinner, to leave the worst of his lands to God! that would be sacrilege—but besides the voluntary donation of estates from rich penitents, the regular monks of Ireland had landed properties attached to their convents. Sometimes they possessed immense tracts of a country, from which the officiating clergy seldom or never derived any benefit; and, I believe, that many, if notmostof the bishops’ leases now existing, are the confiscated revenues of these ruined abbeys.”
“So, (said I) after all, it is only a transfer of property from one opulent ecclesiastic to another; * and the great difference between the luxurious abbot of other times, and the rich church dignitary of the present, lies in a few speculative theories, which, whether they are or are not consonant to reason and common sense, have certainly no connexion withtruereligion ortruemorality. While the bishopricks now, like the abbeys of old, are estimated rather by the profit gained to the temporal, than the harvest reaped to the heavenly Lord. However, I suppose, they borrow a sanction from the perversion of scriptural authority, and quote the Jewish law, not intended for the benefit ofindividualsto the detriment of a whole body, but which extended to the whole tribe of Levi, and, doubtlessly, strengthen it by a sentiment of St. Paul: ‘If we sow unto you spiritual things, is it not just we reap your carnal?’ &c. It is, however, lucky for your country, that your abbots are not as numerous in the present day as formerly.”
* For instance, the Abbey of Raphoe was founded by St.Columkill, who was succeeded in it by St. Eanon. The firstBishop of Raphoe having converted the abbey into a cathedralsee. It is now a protestant bishoprick.
“Numerous, indeed, as you perceive (said the priest) by these ruins; for we are told in the Life of St. Ramoloi, that there were a greater number of monks and superb monasteries in Ireland than in any other part of Europe. St. Co-lumkill and his contemporaries alone erected in this kingdom upwards of two hundred abbeys, if their biographers are to be credited; and the luxury of their governors kept pace with their power and number.
“In the abbey of Enis, a sanctuary was provided for the cowls of the friars and the veils of the nuns, which were costly and beautifully wrought. We read that (knights excepted) the prelates only were allowed to have gold bridles and harness; and that among the rich presents bestowed by Bishop Snell, in 1146, on a cathedral, were gloves, pontificals, sandals, and silken robes, interwoven with golden spots, and adorned with precious stones.
“There is a monument of monkish luxury still remaining among the interesting ruins of Sligo abbey. This noble edifice stands in the midst of a rich and beautiful scenery, on the banks of a river, near which is a spot still shown, where, as tradition runs, a box or weir was placed, in which the fish casually entered, and which contained a spring, that communicated by a cord with a bell hung in the refectory. The weight of the fish pressed down the spring; the cord vibrated; the bell rung; and the unfortunate captive thus taken suffered martyrdom, by being placed on a fire alive.”
“And was served up,” said I, “I suppose on a fast day, to theabstemiousmonks, who would, however, have looked upon a morsel of flesh meat thrown in this way, as a lure to eternal perdition.”
Already weary of a conversation in which my heart took little interest, I now suffered it to die away; and while Father John began a parley with a traveller who socially joined us, I gave up my whole soul to love and to Glorvina.
In the course of the evening we arrived at the house of our destined host. Although it was late, the family had not yet gone to dinner, as the servant who took our horses informed us, that his master had but that moment returned from a fair. We had scarcely reached the hall, when, the report of our arrival having preceded our appearance, the whole family rushed out to receive us. What a group!—the father looked like the very Genius of Hospitality, the mother like the personified spirit of a cordial welcome; three laughing Hebe daughters; two fine young fellows supporting an aged grandsire, a very Silenus in appearance, and a pretty demure little governess, with a smile and a hand as ready as the others.
The priest, according to the good old Irish fashion, saluted the cheeks of the ladies, and had his hands nearly shaken off by the men; while I was received with all the cordiality that could be lavished on a friend, and all the politeness that could be paid to a stranger. A welcome shone in every eye; ten thousand welcomes echoed from every lip; and the arrival of the unexpected guests seemed a festival of the social feelings to the whole warm-hearted family. If this is a true specimen of the first rites of hospitality, among theindependent country gentlemen of Ireland, * it is to me the most captivating of all possible ceremonies.
* To those who have witnessed [as I so often have] thecelebration of these endearing rites, this picture willappear but a very cold and languid sketch.
When the first interchange of our courtesies had passed on both sides, we were conducted to the refreshing comforts of a dressing-room; but the domestics were not suffered to interfere, all were in fact our servants.
The plenteous dinner was composed of every luxury the season afforded; though only supplied by the demesne of our host and the neighbouring sea-coast, and though served up in a style of perfect elegance, was yet so abundant, so over plenteous, that, compared to the compact neatness, and simple sufficiency of English fare in the same rank of life, it might have been thought to have been “more than hospitably good.” But to my surprise, and indeed, not much to my satisfaction, during dinner the door was left open for the benefit of receiving the combined efforts of a very indifferent fiddler and a tolerable piper, who, however, seemed to hold the life and spirits of the family in their keeping. The ladies left us early after the cloth was removed; and though besides the family there were three strange gentlemen, and that the table was covered with excellent wines, yet conversation circulated with much more freedom than the bottle; every one did as he pleased, and the ease of the guest seemed the pleasure of the host.
For my part, I rose in less than an hour after the retreat of the ladies, and followed them to the drawing-room. I found them all employed; one at the piano, another at her needle-work, a third reading; mamma at her knitting, and the pretty little duenna copying out music.
They received me as an old acquaintance, and complimented me on my temperance in so soon retiring from the gentlemen, for which I assured them they had all the credit. It is certain that the frank and open ingenuousness of an Irishwoman’s manners, forms a strong contrast to that placid, but distant reserve which characterises the address of my own charming countrywomen. For my part, since I have Glorvina, I shall never again endure that perpetuity of air, look, and address, which those who mistake formality for good-breeding are apt to assume. Manners, like the graduated scale of the thermometer, should betray, by degrees, the expansion or contraction of the feeling, as they are warmed by emotion or chilled by indifference. They shouldbreathethe soul in order towinit.
Nothing could be more animated yet more modest than the manners of these charming girls, nor should I require any stronger proof of that pure and exquisite chastity of character which, from the earliest period, has distinguished the women of this country, than that ingenuous candour and enchanting frankness which accompanies their every look and word.
“The soul as sure to be admired as seen,
Boldly steps forth, nor keeps a thought within.
But, although the Miss O’D————s are very charming girls, although their mother seems a very rational and amiable being, and although their governess appears to be a young woman of distinguished education and considerable talent; yet I in vain sought in their conversation for that soul-seizing charm which, with a magic, undefinable influence breathes round the syrenPrincess of Inismore. O! it was requisite I should mingle, converse with other women to justly appreciate all I possess in the society of Glorvina; for surely she ismore, or every other woman islessthan mortal!
Before the men joined us in the drawing-room, I was quiteboudoirizedwith these unaffected and pleasing girls. One wound her working-silk off my hands, another would try my skill at battledore, and the youngest, a charming little being of thirteen, told me the history of a pet dove that was dying in her lap; while all in-treated I would talk to them of the Princess of Inismore.
“For my part,” said the youngest girl, “I always think of her as of the ‘Sleeping Beauty in the Wood,’ or some other princess in a fairy tale.”
“We know nothing of her, however,” said
Mrs. O’D————-, “but by report; we live at too great a distance to keep up any connexion with the Inismore family; besides, that it is generally understood to be Mr. O’Melville’s wish to live in retirement.”
This is the first time I ever heard my soi-disant Prince mentioned without his title; but I am sure I should never endure to hear my Glorvina called Miss O’Melville. For to me, too, does she appear more like the Roganda of a fairy tale, than “any mortal mixture of earth’s mould.”
The gentlemen now joined us, and as soon as tea was over, the piper struck up in the hall, and in a moment every one was on their feet. My long journey was received as a sufficient plea for my being a spectator only; but the priest refused the immunity, and led out the lady mother; the rest followed, and the idol amusement of the gay-hearted Irish, received its usual homage. But though the women danced with considerable grace and spirit, they did not, like Glorvina,
“Send the soul upon a jig to heaven.”
The dance was succeeded by a good supper; the supper by a cheerful song, and every one seemed unwilling to be the first to break up a social compact over which the spirit of harmony presided.
As the priest and I retired to our rooms, “You have now,” said he, “had a specimen of the mode of living of the Irish gentry of a certain rank in this country; the day is devoted to agricultural business, the evening to temperate festivity and innocent amusement; but neither the avocations of the morning nor the engagements of the evening suspend the rites of hospitality.”
Thus far I wrote before I retired that night to rest, and the next morning at an early hour we took our leave of these courteous and hospitable Milesians; having faithfully promised on the preceding night to repeat our visit on our return from the north.
We are now at a sorry little inn, within a mile or two of the nobleman’s seat to whom the priest is come, and on whom he waits to-morrow, having just learned that his lordship passed by here to-day on his way to a gentleman’s house in the neighbourhood where he dines. The little postboy at this moment rides up to the door; I shall drop this in his bag, and begin a new journal on a fresh sheet.
Adieu,
The priest is gone on his embassy. The rain which batters against the casement of my little hotel prevents me enjoying a ramble. I have nothing to read, and I must write or yawn myself to death.
Yesterday, as we passed the imaginary line which divides the province of Connaught from that of Ulster, the priest said, “As we now advance northward, we shall gradually lose sight of the genuine Irish character, and those ancient manners, modes, customs, and language with which it is inseparably connected. Not long after the chiefs of Ireland had declared James the First universal monarch of their country, a sham plot was pretended, consonant to the usual ingratitude of the House of Stuart, by which six entire counties of the north became forfeited, which James with a liberal hand bestowed on his favorites; * so that this part of Ireland may in some respects be considered as a Scottish colony; and in fact, Scotch dialect, Scotch manners, Scotch modes, and the Scotch character almost universally prevail. Here the ardour of the Irish constitution seems abated if not chilled. Here theceadmile faltaof Irish cordiality seldom lends its welcome home to a stranger’s heart. The bright beams which illumine the gay images of Milesian fancy are extinguished; the convivial pleasures, dear to the Milesian heart, scared at the prudential maxims of calculating interest, take flight to the warmer regions of the south; and the endearing socialities of the soul, lost and neglected amidst the cold concerns of the counting-house and thebleach-green, droop and expire in the deficiency of the nutritive warmth on which their tender existence depends.
* “The pretext of rebellion was devised as a speciousprelude to predetermined confiscations, and the inhabitantsof six counties, whose aversion to the yoke of England theshow of lenity might have disarmed, were compelled toencounter misery in deserts, and, what is perhaps still motemortifying to human pride, to behold the patrimony of theirancestors, which force had wrested from their hands,bestowed the prey of a more favoured people. The substantialview of providing for his indigent countrymen might havegratified the national partiality of James; the favouritepassion of the English was gratified by the triumph ofProtestantism, and the downfall of its antagonists: men whoprofessed to correct a system of peace did not hesitate topursue their purpose through a scene of iniquity whichhumanity shudders to relate; and by an action more criminal,because more deliberate, than the massacre of St.Bartholomew, two-thirds of an extensive province wereoffered up in one great hecatomb, on the altar of falsepolicy and theological prejudice. Here let us survey withwonder the mysterious operations of divine wisdom, which,from a measure base in its means, and atrocious in itsexecution, has derived a source of fame, freedom, andindustry to Ireland.”—Vide a Review of some interestingperiods of Irish History.
“So much for the shades of the picture, which, however, possesses its lights, and those of no dim lustre. The north of Ireland may be justly esteemed the palladium of Irish industry and Irish trade, where the staple commodity of the kingdom is reared and manufactured; and while the rest of Ireland is devoted to that species of agriculture, which, in lessening the necessity of human labour, deprives man of subsistence; while the wretched native of the southern provinces (where little labour is required, and consequently little hire given) either famishes in the midst of a helpless family, or begs his way to England, and offers those servicestherein harvest time, which his own country rejects. Here, both the labourer and his hire rise in the scale of political consideration; here more hands are called for than can be procured; and the peasant, stimulated to exertions by the reward it reaps for him, enjoys the fruits of his industry, and acquires a relish for the comforts and conveniences of life. Industry, and this taste for comparative luxury, mutually react; and the former, while it bestows themeans, enables them to gratify the suggestions of the latter; while their wants, nurtured by enjoyment, afford fresh allurement to continued exertion, In short, a mind not too deeply fascinated by the florid virtues, the warm overflowings of generous and ardent qualities, will find in the northerns of this island much to admire and more to esteem; but on the heart they make little claims, and from its affections they receive but little tribute.” *
* Belfast cannot be deemed the metropolis of Ulster, but mayalmost be said to be the Athens of Ireland. It is at leastthe cynosure of the province in which it stands; and thosebeams of genius which are there concentrated, send to theextremest point of the hemisphere in which they shine nofaint ray of lumination.
“Then, in the name of all that is warm and cordial,” said I, “let us hasten back to the province of Connaught.”
“That you may be sure we shall,” returned Father John: “for I know none of these sons of trade; and until we once more find ourselves within the pale of Milesian hospitality, we must put up at a sorry inn, near a tract of the sea-coast, called the Magilligans, and where onesolitary faneis raised to the once tutelar deity of Ireland; in plain English, where one of the last of the race ofIrish bardsshelters his white head beneath the fractured roof of a wretched hut. Although the evening sun was setting on the western wave when we reached the auberge, yet, while our fried eggs and bacon were preparing, I proposed to the priest that we should visit the old bard before we put up our horses. Father John readily consented, and we enquired his address.
“What, themon wi the twa heads?” said our host. I confessed my ignorance of this hydra epithet, which I learned was derived from an immense wen on the back of his head.
“Oh!” continued our host, “A wull be telling you weel to gang tull the auld Kearn, and one o’ our wains wull show ye the road. Ye need nae fear trusting yoursels to our wee Wully, for he is an uncommon canie chiel.” Such was the dialect of this Hibernian Scot, who assured me he had never been twenty miles from his “aine wee hame.”
We, however, dispensed with the guidance ofwee Wully, and easily found our way to the hut of the man “wi the twa heads.” It stood on the right hand by the road side. We entered it without ceremony, and as it is usual for strangers to visit this last of the “Sons of Song,” his family betrayed no signs of surprise at our appearance. His ancient dame announced us to her husband When we entered he was in bed; and when he arose to receive us (for he was dressed, and appeared only to have lain down from debility,) we perceived that his harp had been the companion of his repose, and was actually laid under the bed-clothes with him. We found the venerable bard cheerful * and communicative, and he seemed to enter even with an eager readiness on the circumstances of his past life, while his “soul seemed heightened by the song,” with which at intervals he interrupted his narrative. How strongly did those exquisitely beautiful lines of Ossian rush on my recollection: “But age is now on my tongue, and my mind has failed me; the sons of song are gone to rest; my voice remains like a blast that roars loudly on a sea-surrounded rock after the winds are laid, and the distant mariner sees the waving trees.”
So great was my veneration for this “Bard of other times,” that I felt as though it would have been an indelicacy to have offered him any pecuniary reward for the exertions of his tuneful talent; I therefore made my little offering to his wife, having previously, while he was reciting his “unvarnished tale,” taken a sketch of his most singularly interesting and striking figure, as a present for Glorvina on my return to Inismore.
While my heart a thousand times called on hers to participate in the sweet but melancholy pleasure it experienced, as I listened to and gazed on this venerable being.
The following account of the Bard of the Magilligans wastaken from his own lips, July 3, 1805, by the Rev. Mr.Sampson, of Magilligan, and forwarded to the author,(through the medium of Dr. Patterson of Derry,) previous toher visit to that part of the north, which took place a fewweeks after.Umbro, July 3, 1805.Magilligan.“I made the survey of the ‘man with the two heads,’according to your desire; but not till yesterday, onaccount of variousimpossibilities.“Here is my report.—“Dennis Hampson, or the ‘man with the two heads,’ is anative of Craigmore, near Garvah, county Derry; his father,Brian Dorrogher Hampson, held the whole town-land ofTyrcrevan; his mother’s relations were in possession of theWood-town (both considerable farms in Magilligan.) He losthis sight at the age of three years by the smallpox; attwelve years he began to learn the harp under BridgetO’Cahan: ‘For,’ he said, ‘in those times,womenas wellas men were taught the Irish harp in the best families; andevery old Irish family had harps in plenty.’“His next master was John C. Gairagher, a blind travellingharper, whom he followed to Buncranagh, where his masterused to play for Colonel Vaughan; he had afterwardsLaughlan Hanning and Patrick Connor in succession asmasters.“‘All these were from Connaught, which was,’ he added, ‘thebest part of the kingdom for Irish music and for harpers.’At eighteen years of age he began to play for himself, andwas taken into the house of Counseller Canning, at Garvah,for half a year; his host, with Squire Gage and DoctorBacon, bought him a harp. He travelled nine or ten yearsthrough Ireland and Scotland, and tells facetious stories ofgentlemen in both countries: among others, that in passingnear the place of Sir J. Campbell, at Aghanbrack, he learn-ed that this gentleman had spent a great deal, and wasliving on so much per week of allowance. Hampson throughdelicacy would not call, but some of the domestics were sentafter him; on coming into the castle, Sir J. asked him whyhe had not called, adding, ‘Sir, there was never a harperbut yourself that passed the door of my father’s house towhich Hampson answered that ‘he had heard in thenighbourhoodthat his honor was not often at home.’ withwhich delicate evasion Sir J. was satisfied. He adds, ‘thatthis was the highest bred and stateliest man he ever knew;if he were putting on a new pair of gloves, and one of themdropped on the floor, (though ever so clean) he would orderthe servant to bring him another pair.’ He says that in thattime he never met with but one laird that had a harp, andthat was a very small one, played on formerly by the laird’sfather; that when he had tuned it with new strings, thelaird and his lady both were so pleased with his music thatthey invited him back in these words: ‘Hampson, as soon asyou think this child of ours (a boy of three years of age)is fit to learn on his grandfather’s harp, come back toteach him, and you shall not repent it:’—but this he neveraccomplished.“He told me a story of the laird of Strone with a great dealof comic relish. When he was playing at the house, a messagecame that a large party of gentlemen were coming to grouse,and would spend some days withhim(the laird;) the ladybeing in great distress turned to her husband, saying ‘whatshall we do, my dear, for so many in the way of beds?’ ‘Giveyourself no vexation,’ replied the laird, ‘give us enough toeat, and I will supply the rest; and as to beds, believeme,every man shall find one for himself;’ (meaning thathis guests would fall under the table.) In his second tripto Scotland, in the year 1745, being at Edinburgh whenCharleythe Pretender, was there, he was called into thegreat hall to play; at first he was alone, afterwards fourfiddlers joined: the tune called for was, ‘The king shallenjoy his own again;’—he sung here part of the wordsfollowing:—=
‘I hope to see the day
When the whigs shall run away,
And the king shall enjoy his own again.’
“I asked him if he heard the Pretender speak; he replied—‘I only heard him ask, Is Sylvan there? on which some oneanswered, he is not here, please your royal highness, but heshall be sent for.’ ‘He meant to saySullivan,’ continuedHampson, ‘but that was the way he called the name.’ He saysthat Captain Mac Donnell, when in Ireland, came to see him,and that he told the captain that Charley’s cockade was inhis father’s house.“Hampson was brought into the Pretender’s presence byColonel Kelly, of Roscommon, and Sir Thomas Sheridan, andthat he, (Hampson) was then about fifty years old. He playedin many Irish houses, among others, those of Lord deCourcey, Mr. Fortesque, Sir P. Belew, Squire Roche, and inthe great towns, Dublin, Cork, &c., &c. Respecting all whichhe interspersed pleasant anecdotes with surprising gaietyand correctness; he mentioned many anecdotes of mygrandfather and grand-aunt, at whose houses he used to befrequently. In fact, in this identical harper, whom you sentme tosurvey, I recognized an acquaintance, who, as soonas he found me out, seemed exhilarated at having an oldfriend of (what he called) ‘the old stock,’ in his poorcabin. He even mentioned many anecdotes of my own boyhood,which, though by me long forgotten, were accurately true.These things show the surprising power of his recollectionat the age of one hundred and eight years. Since I saw himlast, which was in 1787, the wen on the back of his head isgreatly increased; it is now hanging over his neck andshoulders, nearly as large as his head, from whichcircumstance he derives his appellative, ‘the man with twoheads.’ General Hart, who is an admirer of music, sent alimner lately to take a drawing of him, which cannot fail tobe interesting, if it were only for the venerable expressionof his meagre, blind countenance, and the symmetry of histall, thin, but not debilitated person. I found him lying onhis back in bed near the fire of his cabin; his familyemployed in the usual way; his harp under the bed-clothes,by which his face was covered also. When he heard my name hestarted up (being already dressed) and seemed rejoiced tohear the sound of my voice, which, he said, he began torecollect. He asked for my children, whom I brought to seehim, and he felt them over and over;—then, with tones ofgreat affection, he blessedGodthat he hadseenfourgenerations of the name, and ended by giving the childrenhis blessing. He then tuned his old time-beaten harp, hissolace and bed-fellow, and played with astonishing justnessand good taste.“The tunes which he played were his favourites; and he,with an elegance of manner, said at the same time, ‘Iremember you have a fondness for music, and the tunes youused to ask for I have not forgotten, which were Cualin, TheDawning of the Day, Elleen-a-roon, Ceandubhdilis, &c.These, except the third, were the first tunes, which,according to regulation, he played at the famous meeting ofharpers at Belfast, under the patronage of some amateurs ofIrish music. Mr. Bunton, the celebrated musician of thattown, was here the year before, at Hampson’s, noting histunes and his manner of playing, which is in the best oldstyle. He said with the hottest feeling of self-love, ‘WhenI played the old tunes not another of the harpers would playafter me.’ He came to Magilligan many years ago, and at theage of eighty-six, married a woman of Innishowen, whom hefound living in the house of a friend. ‘I can’t tell,’ quothHampson, ‘if it was not the devil buckled us together; shebeing lame and I blind.’ By this wife he has one daughter,married to a cooper, who has several children, and maintainsthem all, though Hampson (in this alone seeming to doat)says that his son-in-law is a spendthrift and that hemaintains them; the family humour his whim, and the old manis quieted. He is pleased when they tell him, as he thinksis the case, that several people of character, for musicaltaste, send letters to invite him; and he, though incapablenow of leaving the house, is planning expeditions never tobe attempted, much less realized; these are the only tracesof mental debility; as to his body, he has no inconveniencebut that arising from a chronic disorder: his habits haveever been sober; his favourite drink, once beer, now milkand water; his diet chiefly potatoes. I asked him to teachmy daughter, but he declined: adding, however, that it wastoo hard for a young girl, but that nothing would give himgreater pleasure if he thought it could be done.“Lord Bristol, while lodging at the bathing house of MountSalut, near Magilligan, gave three guineas and ground rentfree, to build the house where Hampson now lives. At thehouse-warming, his lordship with his lady and family came,and the children danced to his harp; the bishop gave threecrowns to the family, and in thedearyear, his lordshipcalled in his coach and six, stopped at the door, and gave aguinea to buy meal.“Would it not be well to get up a subscription for poor oldHampson? It might be sent to various towns where he isknown.“Ever yours,“C. V. SAMPSON.”
ADDENDA.
“In the time of Noah I was green,
After his flood I have not been seen,
Until seventeen hundred and two. I was found
By Cormac Kelly, under ground;
Who raised me up to that degree;
Queen of music they call me.”
“The above lines were sculptured on the old harp, which ismade, the sides and front of white sally, the back of fir,patched with copper and iron plates, his daughter nowattending him is only thirty-three years old.“I have now given you an account of my visit, and even thankyou (though my fingers are tired) for the pleasure youprocured to me by this interesting commission.Once more ever yours,C. Y. S.In February, 1806, the author, being then but eighteen milesdistant from the residence of the bard, received a messagefrom him, intimating that as he heard she wished to purchasehis harp, he would dispose of it on very moderate terms. Hewas then in good health and spirits though in his hundredand ninth year.
Whenever there was a revel of the feelings, a joy of the imagination, or a delicate fruition of a refined and touching sentiment, how my soul misses her! I find it impossible to make even the amiable and intelligent priest enter into the nature of my feelings; but how naturally, in the overflowing of my heart, do I turn towards her, yet turn in vain, or find her image only in my enamoured soul, which is full of her. Oh! how much do I owe her. What a vigorous spring has she opened in the wintry waste of a desolated mind. It seems as though a seal had been fixed upon every bliss of the senses and the heart, which her breath alone could dissolve; that all was gloom and chaos until she said “let there be light.”
As we rode back to our auberge by the light of a cloudless but declining moon, after some conversation on the subject of the bard whom we had visited, the priest exclaimed, “Who would suppose that that wretched hut was the residence of one of that order once so revered among the Irish; whose persons and properties were held sacred and inviolable by the common consent of all parties, as well as by the laws of the nation, even in all the vicissitudes of warfare, and all the anarchy of intestine commotion; an order which held the second rank in the state; and whose members, in addition to the interesting duties of their profession, were the heralds of peace, and the donors of immortality? Clothed in white and flowing robes, the bards marched to battle at the head of the troops, and by the side of the chief; and while by their martial strains they awakened courage even to desperation in the heart of the warrior, borne away by the furor of their own enthusiasm, they not unfrequently rushed into the thick of the fight themselves, and by their maddening inspirations decided the fate of the battle; or when victory descended on the ensanguined plain, they hung over the warrior’s funeral pile, and chaunted to the strains of the national lyre the deeds of the valiant, and the prowess of the hero; while the brave and listening survivors envied and emulated the glory of the deceased, and believed that this tribute of inspired genius at the funeral rites was necessary to the repose of the departed soul.”
* The genuine history and records of Ireland abound withincidents singularly romantic, and of details exquisitelyinteresting. In the account of the death of the celebratedhero Conrigh, as given by Demetrius O’Connor, the followinginstance of fidelity and affection of a family bard isgiven. “When the beautiful but faithless Blanaid, whose handConrigh had obtained as the reward of his valour, armed afavourite lover against the life of her husband, and fledwith the murderer; Fierchiertne, the poet and bard ofConrigh, in the anguish of his heart for the loss of agenerous master, resolved upon sacrificing the criminalBlanaid to the manes of his murdered lord. He thereforesecretly pursued her from the palace in Kerry to the courtof Ulster, whither she had fled with her homicide paramour.On his arrival there, the first object that saluted his eyeswas the king of that province, walking on the the edge ofthe steep rocks of Rinchin Beara, surrounded by theprincipal nobility of his court; and in the splendid trainhe soon perceived the lovely, but guilty Blanaid and hertreacherous lover. The bard concealed himself until heobserved his mistress withdraw from the brilliant crowd, andstand at the edge of a steep cliff; then courteously andflatteringly addressing her, and clasping her firmly to hisbreast, threw himself headlong with his prey down theprecipice. They were both dashed to pieces.”
“And from what period,” said I, “may the decline of these once potent and revered members of the state be dated?”
“I would almost venture to say,” returned the priest, “so early as in the latter end of the sixth century; for we read in an Irish record, that aboutthatperiod theIrish monarchconvened the princes, nobles, and clergy of the kingdom, to the parliament ofDrumceat; and the chief motive alleged for summoning this vast assembly was to banish the Fileas or bards.”
“Which might be deemed then,” interrupted I, “a league of theDuncesagainstWitandGenius.”
“Not altogether,” returned the priest. “It was in some respects a necessary policy. For, strange to say, nearly the third part of Ireland had adopted a profession at once so revered, and privileged, so honoured and so caressed by all ranks of the state. Indeed, about this period, such was the influence they had obtained in the kingdom, that the inhabitants without distinction were obliged to receive and maintain them from November till May, if it were the pleasure of the bard to become their guest; nor were there any object on which their daring wishes rested that was not instantly put into their possession. And such was the ambition of one of their order, that he made a demand on the golden broach or clasp that braced the regal robe on the breast of royalty itself, which was unalienable with the crown, and descended with the empire from generation to generation.”
“Good God!” said I, “what an idea does this give of the omnipotence of music and poetry among those refined enthusiasts, who have ever borne with such impatience the oppressive chain of power, yet suffer themselves to be soothed into slavery by the melting strains of the national lyre.”
“It is certain,” replied the priest, “that no nation, not even the Greeks, were ever attached with more passionate enthusiasm to the divine arts of poesy and song, than the ancient Irish, until their fatal and boundless indulgence to their professors became a source of inquietude and oppression to the whole state. The celebrated St. Columkill, who was himself a poet, became a mediator between the monarch, already mentioned and the ‘tuneful throng;’ and by his intercession, the king changed his first intention of banishing the whole college of bards, to limiting their numbers; for it was an argument of the liberal saint that it became a great monarch to patronize the arts; to retain about his person an eminent bard and antiquary; and to allow to his tributary princes or chieftains, a poet capable of singing their exploits, and of registering the genealogy of their illustrious families. This liberal and necessary plan of reformation, suggested by the saint, was adopted by the monarch; and these salutary regulations became the prominent standard for many succeeding ages: and though the severity of those regulations against the bards, enforced in the tyrannic reign of Henry VIII, as proposed by Baron Finglas, considerably lessened their power; * yet until the reign of Elizabeth their characters were not stripped of that sacredstole, which the reverential love of their countrymen had flung over them. The high estimation in which the bard was held in the commencement of the empire of Ireland’s archenemy is thus attested by Sir Philip Sidney: