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                        THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL.

      NUMBER 12.      SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 1840.      VOLUME I.

[Illustration: THE TOWN OF ANTRIM.]

Travellers whose only knowledge of our towns is that derived in passing
through the principal street or streets, will be very apt to form an
erroneous estimate of the amount of picturesque beauty which they often
possess, and which is rarely seen save by those who go out of their way
expressly to look for it. This is particularly the case in our smaller
towns, in which the principal thoroughfare has usually a stiff and formal
character, the entrance on either side being generally a range of mud
cabins, which, gradually improving in appearance, merge at length into
houses of a better description, with a public building or two towards
the centre of the town. In these characteristics the highway of one town
is only a repetition of that of another, and in such there is rarely any
combination of picturesque lines or striking features to create a present
interest in the mind, or leave a pleasurable impression on the memory.
Yet in most instances, if we visit the suburbs of these towns, and more
particularly if they happen, as is usually the case, to be placed upon
a river, and we get down to the river banks, we shall most probably be
surprised and gratified at the picturesque combinations of forms, and the
delightful variety of effects, presented to us in the varied outline of
their buildings, contrasted by intervening masses of dark foliage, and
the whole reflected on the tranquil surface of the water, broken only by
the enlivening effect of those silvery streaks of light produced by the
eddies and currents of the stream.

Our prefixed view of the town of Antrim may be taken as an illustration
of the preceding remarks. As seen by the passing traveller, the town
appears situated on a rich, open, but comparatively uninteresting plain,
terminating the well-cultivated vale of the Six-mile-water towards the
flat shore of Loch Neagh; and with the exception of its very handsome
church and castellated entrance into Lord Ferrard’s adjoining demesne,
has little or no attraction; but viewed in connection with its river,
Antrim appears eminently picturesque from several points as well as from
that selected for our view--the prospect of the town looking from the
deer-park of Lord Massarene.

In front, the Six-mile-water river flowing placidly over a broad gravelly
bed, makes a very imposing appearance, not much inferior to that of the
Liffey at Island-bridge. The expanse of water at this point, however,
forms a contrast to the general appearance of the stream, which, although
it brings down a considerable body of water, flows in many parts of its
course between banks of not more than twenty feet asunder. The vale
which it waters is one of the most productive districts of the county,
and towards Antrim is adorned by numerous handsome residences rising
among the enlivening scenery of bleach-greens, for which manufacture
it affords a copious water-power. Scenes of this description impart a
peculiar beauty to landscapes in the north of Ireland. The linen webs of
a snowy whiteness, spread on green closely-shaven lawns sloping to the
sun, and generally bounded by a sparkling outline of running water, have
a delightfully _fresh_ and cheerful effect, seen as they usually are with
their concomitants of well-built factories and handsome mansions; and in
scenery of this description the neighbourhood of Antrim is peculiarly
rich. The Six-mile-water has also its own attraction for the antiquary,
being the _Ollarbha_ of our ancient Irish poems and romances, and flowing
within a short distance of the ancient fortress of Rathmore of Moylinny,
a structure which boasts an antiquity of upwards of 1700 years.

In our view the river appears crossed by a bridge, which through the
upper limbs of its lofty arches affords a pretty prospect of the river
bank beyond. In building a bridge in the same place, a modern county
surveyor would probably erect a less picturesque but more economical
structure, for the arches here are so lofty, that the river, to occupy
the whole space they afford for its passage, must rise to a height that
would carry its waters into an entirely new channel.

But the principal feature in our prospect is the church, the tower and
steeple of which are on so respectable a scale, and of such excellent
proportions, as to render it a very pleasing object as seen from any
quarter or approach of the town. It would be difficult to say in what the
true proportions of a spire consist, whether in its obvious and practical
utility as a penthouse roofing the tower, or in its emblematic aptitude
aspiring to and pointing towards heaven. Still, every cultivated eye will
remark how much more dignified and imposing is the effect of a spire
which is only moderately lofty, as compared with the breadth of its base,
than that of one which is extremely slender. We would point out the spire
of St Patrick’s Cathedral, for example, or that before us, on a smaller
scale, as instances of the former sort. Any one acquainted with the
proportions of those attenuated pinnacles which we so often find perched
on the roofs of churches erected within the last ten years, cannot be
at a loss for examples of the latter. The church itself at Antrim is,
however, rather defective in point of size, as compared with its nobly
proportioned tower and spire.

The suburb of the town, on this side of the bridge, runs up to the
demesne wall of Lord Ferrard’s residence, Antrim Castle, an antique
castellated mansion, seated boldly over the river in a small park laid
out in the taste of Louis XIV., from the terraced walks and stately
avenues of which there are many beautiful views of the surrounding
scenery.

In point of historical interest, there are but two events connected with
Antrim worthy of any particular note--the defeat of the insurgents here
in the rebellion of 1798, on which occasion the late Earl O’Neill lost
his life; and a great battle between the English and native Irish, in the
reign of Edward III., hitherto little spoken of in history, but forming
one in a series of events which exercised a great influence over the
destinies of this country.

Very soon after the first invasion of Ulster by John de Courcy, the
English power was established not only throughout the counties of
Down and Antrim, but even over a large portion of the present county
of Londonderry, then called the county of Coleraine. We find sheriffs
regularly appointed for these counties, and the laws duly administered,
down to the time of Edward III. The native Irish, who had been pushed out
by the advance of this early tide of civilization, took up their abode
west of the Bann, and in the hilly county of Tyrone, from whence they
watched the proceedings of their invaders, and, as opportunities from
time to time presented themselves, crossed the intervening river and
“preyed” the English country. The district around Antrim was from its
situation the one chiefly exposed to these incursions, and the duty of
defending it mainly devolved on the powerful sept of the Savages, who at
that time had extensive possessions in the midland districts of Antrim,
as well as in Down.

The most formidable of these incursions was that which took place
immediately after the murder of William de Burgho, Earl of Ulster, who
was assassinated by some malcontent English at the fords of Belfast, A.
D. 1333. The earl had been a strenuous asserter of the English law, and
had rendered himself obnoxious to the turbulent nobles of the country by
the severity with which he prohibited their adoption of Irish customs,
which, strange to say, had always great charms for the feudal lords of
the English pale, arising probably from the greater facilities which
the Brehon law afforded for exacting exorbitant rents and services from
their tenants. The immediate object of the assassins of the earl was to
prevent him carrying the full rigour of the law into operation against
one of his own _hibernicised_ kinsmen; but the ultimate consequences of
their act were felt throughout all Ireland for two centuries after. For
the Irish, taking advantage of the consternation attendant on the death
of the chief officer of the crown in that province, crossed the Bann
in unexampled numbers, and after a protracted struggle, in which they
were joined by some of the degenerate English, succeeded at length in
recovering the whole of the territory conquered by De Courcy, with the
exception only of Carrickfergus in Antrim, and a portion of the county
of Down, which the Savages with difficulty succeeded in holding after
being expelled from their former possessions at the point of the sword.
It was during this struggle that the battle to which we have alluded was
fought at Antrim. The story is told at considerable length and with much
quaintness by Hollinshed; but want of space obliges us to present it to
our readers in the more concise though still very characteristic language
of Cox:--

“About this time lived Sir Robert Savage, a very considerable gentleman
in Ulster, who began to fortifie his house with strong walls and
bulwarks; but his son derided his father’s prudence and caution,
affirming that “a castle of _bones_ was better than a castle of
_stones_,” and thereupon the old gentleman put a stop to his building.
It happened that this brave man with his neighbours and followers were
to set out against a numerous rabble of Irish that had made incursions
into their territories, and he gave orders to provide plenty of good
cheer against his return; but one of the company reproved him for doing
so, alleging that he could not tell but the enemy might eat what he
should provide; to which the valiant old gentleman replied, that he hoped
better from their courage, but that if it should happen that his very
enemies should come to his house, ‘he should be ashamed if they should
find it void of good cheer.’ The event was suitable to the bravery of the
undertaking: old Savage had the killing of three thousand of the Irish
near Antrim, and returned home joyfully to supper.”

Sir Henry Savage’s “castles of bones” were found insufficient in the end
to resist the multitudes of the Irish; and the English colonists, as we
have mentioned, notwithstanding their victory at Antrim, were finally
obliged to cede the valley of the Six-mile-water to the victorious arms
of the Clan-Hugh-Buide, whose representative, the present Earl O’Neill,
still holds large possessions in the territory thus recovered by his
ancestors.

With respect to the origin of the place, there is little to be said
beyond the fact, that, like that of most of our provincial towns, it
was ecclesiastical. The only remnant of the ancient foundation is the
round tower, which still stands in excellent preservation about half a
mile north of the town. The name is properly “Aen-druim” signifying “the
single hill,” or “one mount.”




A CHAPTER ON CURS.


Without doubt I am a benevolent character: the grudge gratuitous to
my nature is unknown: I never take offence where no offence is given.
Hence, on most animals I look with complacency--for most animals never
intermeddle with my comfort--and on only a few with antipathy, for only
a few so behave as to excite it. High up on the list of the latter--I
was going to say at the very top, but that pestering, pertinacious fly
impudently alighting, through pure mischief alone, on the tickle-tortured
tip of--but he’s gone--no, he’s back--there now I have him under my hat
at last--tut! he’s out again under the rim--up with the window and away
with him! At the head, then, ay, at the very head--how my grievances come
crowding on my brain!--I unhesitatingly place that thrice-confounded
breed of curs, colleys, mongrels, or whatever else they may be called,
with which the rural regions of this therein much-afflicted country are
infested. The milk of my humanity--yea, I may say the cream, for such
it was with me--has in respect to them been changed to very gall--an
unmitigable hostility has possessed me, which--did not the scars of
the wofully-remembered salting, scrubbing, scarifying, and frying (to
say nothing of two months’ maintenance of an hospital establishment of
poultices and plasters), to which my better leg was twice submitted,
counsel me to mingle discretion with my ire--would absolutely make me
turn Don Quixote for their extirpation.

Let flighty philosophers frolic as they list with the flimsy phantasies
no optics save their own can spy--let political economists prate about
public problems, till other people’s pates are nearly as addled as their
own--let flaming patriots propound and placid placemen promise this,
that, and t’other, as grievous burdens or great concessions; but let men
of sense give heed to things of substance--let them exclaim with me,
“Out upon all abstract gammon--out upon all squabbling about what we can
only hear, but neither see nor feel, taste nor smell--bodily boons--real
redress--and first and foremost, ‘to the lamp-post’ with the curs!” I
have suffered more at their teeth, both in blood and broad-cloth, than
all the benefactions I have ever received at the hands of any government
would balance. The inviolable independence of British subjects, forsooth!
the parental guardianship of the constitution, the security for life
and person--faugh!--away with the big inanities, so long as a peaceful
pedestrian cannot take an airing along a highway, much less adventure
on a devious ramble, without exposing person and personalities to the
cruel mercies of a tribe of half-starved tykes issuing from every cabin,
scrambling over every half-door, and almost throttling themselves in
their emulous ambition to be the first to tatter the ill-starred wight
who has stumbled on their haunts. Let no one urge in their behalf
that they are faithful to the misguided men who own them: so much the
worse, since in their small system, fidelity to one must needs manifest
itself in malice, hatred, and uncharitableness to every creature else,
dead or alive. No, there is no redeeming trait--they are _curs_,
essentially biting, barking, cantankrous, crabbed, sneaking, snarling,
treacherous, bullying, cowardly _curs_, and nothing else. This, under all
circumstances, I undertake to maintain against all gainsayers, though
at the same time I am free to confess that I write under considerable
excitement, having just returned from the country (whither--besotted
mortal not to be content with the flag way of a street, and the scenery
of brick and mortar--I had repaired, forsooth, for air, exercise, and
rural sketching) with a couple of new coats, to say nothing of trousers,
curtailed beyond recovery, a bandaged shin smarting beyond description,
and a host of horrid hydrophobic forebodings consequent thereon. It
chanced that in an evil hour I made an engagement with an ailing friend,
whose house was situate in what I may emphatically term a most _canine_
locality, which constrained me to make several calls upon him. Unhappily
it was only approachable by one road, the sides of which were here and
there dotted with a clutch of cabins, in each of which was maintained a
standing force of the aforesaid pests. This ambushed defile, about three
m