Chapter III: Part 3

This Satyr being Truth and Matter of Fact, how well it pleas’d the _Irish_ Collegians may be easily guess’d, however taking leave of my learned Company, I went out to look about me in the City, where I star’d and gap’d around, like our Country Hicks upon the Signs in _London_, the Monument, or Tombs in _Westminster-Abby_. _Ringsend_ Coaches, so call’d from a Place of that Name about a Mile or two out of the _Dublinian_ Suburbs, I saw were more numerous than Hackney or Gentlemen’s Coaches; and which being a sort of Carts made with a Seat before, wherein People may be jolted 3 or 4 Miles for 2 Pence, your topping City Cuckolds and their Wives very often ride out of Town in ’em, to make a Demolition of Cakes and Ale. Being mounted next upon _Lousie-Hill_, and asking whence the Place deriv’d its Name, some knowing People inform’d me, that an old Woman once dwelling there, to whom honest St. _Patrick_, a Swineherd, and tutelary Patron of that Kingdom promis’d to clear that Nation of Lice, she fell a weeping, and humbly besought the good old Man not to destroy them, because the Inhabitants had no other Diversion on _Sundays_, than to sit at home and louse themselves; whereupon her Request being granted, the _Irish_ enjoy the Company of their native Cattle to this Day, in Memory of which peculiar Favour this Street ever since bears the Name of _Lousie-Hill_. At last I rambled into _Smock-Alley_, where the _Irish_ Theatre is situated; Curiosity led me soon into it, when _Dryden_’s Opera, call’d King _Arthur_, was to be acted, which is a Play I lik’d well enough, excepting these two Lines in Act I. Scene I.

_On yon proud Towers, before the Day be done,
My glittering Banners shall be wav’d against the setting Sun._

For tho’ the _Greek_ and _Latin_ Poets, in their Compositions, made their _Hexameter_ or _Heroick_ Verse, compos’d of _Dactyls_ and _Spondees_, yet always observing to have each Line to end with an _Adonick_ likewise, it runs smoother than what our Language will with 15 or more Syllables, for we cannot exceed 10 Feet, or 12 at the most, without offending a delicate Ear.

Farther, let me observe, that the _Irish_ Stage is now as much cumber’d as the _English_ Stage, with Inventions not used in former Ages; I mean with _Opera_’s and _Farce_; the first stupifying the Audience in such a quivering Manner in their Songs, that the Words and Sense too are both lost in the Tune: And the other is a Representation of Things not natural, and is but one, or 3 Acts at most; contrary to the Rule of dramatick Poetry, which, _Horace_ says in his Book _de Arte Poetica_, must have no more or less than 5 Acts. As for _Comedy_, it is as much, nay more corrupted in _Ireland_, than in _England_, _France_ or _Italy_, in too much admitting the _Mimick_ in the _Drama_: And let me tell you (tho’ a Pilgrim) that since I am enter’d upon this Discourse, I must take Notice, that tho’ _Comedy_ is an Imitation of inferior People in Ridicule, yet ought not the Ridicule to be extravagant, but gracefully and slightly touch’d, as by _Terence_ in his Pieces. Again, altho _Comedy_ represents low Persons, yet are they not the meanest, since it brings eminent Citizens and Magistrates on the Stage; nay, _Plautus_ in his _Amphytrio_ introduces Gods and Kings, but nevertheless it is a true _Comedy_, because he hath turn’d the Subject of _Tragedy_ into Ridicule; and it looks beautiful enough, if the Actors have a Regard to their Pronunciation and Gesture, according to _Quintilian_’s Rule, in the 11th Chapter of his First Book which is this: _Debet etiam docere comœdus quomodo narrandum_, &c. That is, a _Comedian_ ought to teach how we should speak, with what Authority we should persuade, with what Emotion Anger should be rais’d, and with what Change of Voice we may excite Pity: I can’t blame those who spend some Time with the Masters of the palestrick Art; that is, those who form the Gestures and Motions, teach how to hold the Arms, and the Hands, that we seem not to be rustick, or ignorant, to have no unseemly Carriage, no unbecoming Posture of the Feet, and that the Head and Eyes don’t differ from the other Motions of the Body. But these Rules are no where strictly observ’d by Players: Moreover, as the Design of _Comedy_ is to rectify the Manners of Men and Women, nothing ought to be represented which may vitiate the Audience, for the People being generally the same, they obstinately retain the most licentious and obscene Things; especially when they are impiously joyn’d to Religion. Indeed _Ben Johnson_ is often guilty of this Fault in his _Volpone_, especially where he brings in Sir _Politick Would be_ talking thus prophanely to _Peregrine_.

_And then, for your Religion, profess none;
But wonder at the Diversity of all._ Act 4. Sc. 1.

Also _Ben Johnson_ in his _Alchymist_ so much dishonours his Maker, as to suffer the most tremendous Name of God to be made so vile and cheap, as to be us’d often as an expletive Particle to prevent a Chasme, or make up a Gap in a Sentence, that it may run more smoothly; as appears by some of his Persons thus speaking.

_God’s Will then, Queen of Fairies
On with your Tire; and, Doctor, with your Robes.
Let’s dispatch him for God’s sake._ Act 3. Sc. 3.

_Fore God,
She is a delicate Dab chick! I must have her._ Act 4. Scen. 2.

As for _Tragedies_, those are the most perfect ones in which there are _Peripeties_, that is, Revolutions, Changes of Fortune, and Remembrances, as in the _Oedipus_ of _Sophocles_, the first _Tragedy_ of all Antiquity, where in the 3d Scene of the 4th Act, the _Peripetie_, or Change of one Fortune into another, is contrary to what was expected, in the Man that comes from _Corinth_ to acquaint _Oedipus_ of the Death of King _Polybius_. I shall not take Notice of the Duration of the Representation of a _Play_, which ought not to exceed the Space of a natural Day; but observe, that the Sect of the _Peripateticks_ believing neither _Providence_ nor _fatal Necessity_, but imputes all Accidents to Chance, the antient tragick _Poets_ chose rather to follow the Opinion of the _Stoicks_, who acknowledge a _Providence_ and fatal Necessity; as very well perceiving, that that was the only Means to preserve the _Theatre_, those wonderful Surprizes, which are produc’d by Accidents that seem fortuitous, and yet nevertheless have Causes assign’d to them, which are certain. Again, it is to be noted, that the _Prologue_ should be plac’d before the Play; but _Plautus_ hath took the Liberty of the _Greeks_, in placing the Prologue in the Play, as particularly in the first Act of his _Miles gloriosus_, and after the first Act in _Cistellaria_; however, as I hint above, this Custom ought not to be follow’d by any prudent and regular Poet; and therefore _Terence_ hath took Care not to be guilty of so great a Fault. The _Catastrophe_ of a Play must be happy or fatal; but _Euripides_ has made his Pieces to have a miserable one, wherefore he appears to be the most tragical of all the _Poets_. Now the Use of Machines, which makes the Gods and Goddesses appear upon the Stage, is founded on the generally received Opinion of the _Ethnichs_, who suppose the Gods can see all things, and take Care of Men; for if there were none but _Epicureans_ in the World, the Machines would be ridiculous, or not suffer’d, because they would directly thwart their Opinion, in affirming the Gods lead a quiet Life, free from all Sorts of Care, and if _Nature_ sometimes doth those Things which seem miraculous, the Gods take no Notice of it, and don’t interrupt their Pleasure. By the Way also I must note, that the Imitation of Lightning and Thunder may be put into the Number of the Machines, and also that furious Storm, which makes the unravelling of the second _Oedipus_ in _Sophocles_; for altho’ _Jupiter_ doth not appear, yet ’tis he who sends that Tempest, during which _Oedipus_ is buried: And from hence I infer, that Machines may be employ’d, not only out of, but also in the Action of Tragedy, provided there be an absolute Necessity for them.

But many of our modern _Dramatists_ have not exactly observ’d the aforesaid Discourse, or kept themselves strictly to the Unity of Action, Time, and Place. For _Shakespear_ in his Tragedy of _Othello_, the _Moor_ of _Venice_, makes the Duration of what he represents to be above 3 Weeks or a Month; I think the Representation of his Play begins in _Italy_, whence his black General went to _Cyprus_, an Island on the Coast of _Syria_, and to which he could not well arrive under a Fortnight, according as the Storm he met with held longer or shorter. The Absurdities and Blunders of this illiterate _Poetaster_ being so many, that whatever he writ was not worth acting in _Bartholomew_ Fair, I shall only take Notice of the little Knowledge he had in _Astronomy_, when in Act 1. Scen. 2. he says,

_For do but stand upon the foaming Shore,
The chiding Billows seem to pelt the Clouds,
The Wind shake Surge, with high and monst’rous Main,
Seems to cast Water on the burning Bear,
And quench the Guards of the ever-fired Pole._

In these Lines I reckon he hath given a false _Epithet_ to the _Bear_, which ought to have been _lesser_ instead of _burning_, by talking of the _Guards_ presently after, which are the two foremost Stars in _Ursa minor_, whereof that which is in the Shoulder of this Constellation, hath Longitude 128 Degrees, 23 Minutes, and North Latitude 72 Degrees, 40 Minutes, insomuch that being nearest of all the Northern Constellations to the North Pole, I wonder how there can be any extraordinary Heat within the frigid Zone. Also in the same Play he supposes the Soul to be the Production of some mortal Substance, according to these Words of _Emilia_, Act 5. Scen. 1.

_If he say so, may his pernicious Soul
Rot half a Grain a-day._

But _Shakespear_ being no Scholar, I suppose he had so little Skill in _Rhetorick_, that by a _Synecdoche_ he did not put a _Whole_ for a Part, as _Virgil_ do’s _Anima_ for _Homo_, in describing the Funeral of _Polydorus_, in _Æneid. lib. 3_. The Faults of this same _Poetaster_ are not a few also in his _Tragedy_, call’d _Hamlet_, Prince of _Denmark_; in which he is mighty drolling, particularly where he tells an old Woman’s Story of the Cocks crowing always at _Christmas_, in Act 1. Scen. 1.

_It faded at the Crowing of the Cock.
Some say, that ever ’gainst that Season comes,
Wherein our Saviour’s Birth is Celebrated,
This Bird of dawning singeth all Night long,
And then, they say, no Spirit dares stir abroad,
The Nights are wholsome; then no Plannets strike,
No Fairy takes, no Witch hath Power to Charm,
So hallow’d and so gracious is that Time._

Truly Mr. _Lee_ was in my Opinion, the most exact of all our modern _Dramatists_ in his Plays; but yet he is not without his Irregularities and Foibles, especially in religious Matters, of which we shall only take notice of this in his _Tragedy_ call _Theodosius_, or the Force of Love, where, in Act 3. Scen. 1. he represents the Emperor _Theodosius_ a hopeful Convert, when at the sight of _Athenais_ he makes one of the Articles of the Christian Faith a _Simile_ for his Cod-piece Passion in these Words,

_What hinders now but in spite of Rules
I burst thro’ all the Bands of Death that hold me,
And fly with such a haste to that Appearance,
As bury’d Saints shall make at the last Summons._

In Mr. _Lee_’s Tragedy call’d the Rival Queens, or the Death of _Alexander_ the Great, in Act 1. Scen. I. he makes _Polyperchon_ give a Description of Hell after the _Christian_ Manner; for tho’ it was the _Theology_ of the _Grecians_ to believe a future State, yet it does not occur to my Memory that I ever read they allotted any Punishment to the Wicked by Fire, as he intimates in these Lines.

_Tho’ the Earth yawn so wide,
That all the Labours of the Deep were seen,
And ~Alexander~ stood on the other Side,
I’d leap the burning Ditch to give him Death,
Or sink my self for ever._

And in Act 4. Scen. I. he introduces _Cassander_ speaking so prophanely, that it must rather vitiate the Audience than make them virtuous.

_’Tis nobler far to be a King of Hell,
To Head infernal Legions, Chiefs below,
To let ’em loose for Earth, to call ’em in,
And take Account of what dark Deeds are done,
Than be a Subject God in Heav’n unblest,
And without Mischief have eternal Rest._

As for Mr. _Shadwell_, he hath mixt his Tragedy call’d the _Libertine_ with so much Comedy, that the Play is rather tragi-comical than tragical; tho’ there is Blood enough spilt in it which might, with good Husbandry, serve very well for two or three Tragedies: But to make Don _John_ the Libertine talk of a Soul in Act I. when an Atheist believes no such Thing existing in a Man, it is very absurd, as you may see in the following Lines, which plainly describe the Person’s Character.

_Let’s on, and live the nobler Life of Sense;
To all the Powers of Love and mighty Lust,
In spite of formal Fops I will be just.
What Ways soe’er conduce to my Delight,
My Sense instructs me, I must think ’em right.
On, on my Soul, and make no Stop in Pleasure,
They’re dull insipid Fools, who live by Measure._

Was I to criticise on all the Errors occurring in the _Greek_, _Latin_ and _English_ Dramatists, I should swell my Criticisms to a Bulk exceeding these swelling Expressions of _Seneca_, in the first Act of his _Hercules Oetæus_, whom he makes to speak in these bragging, bouncing, and ranting Strains.

_Vel si times ne terra concipiat feras,
Properet malum quodcunque dum terra Herculem
Habet, videtque.
Da, da tuendos Jupiter saltem deos:
Illa licebit fulmina parte auferas,
Ego quam tuebor: sive glacialem polum,
Seu me tueri fervidam partem jubes,
Hac esse superos parte securos puta._

By these Lines we plainly see how miserable _Jupiter_ must be, who cannot be safe from wild Beasts without an _Hercules_; and then again how little and weak the _Poet_ makes the Gods, in representing them to stand in Need of Human Help: But the tragick _Poets_ do very often err in this Manner, by extolling Things above Nature. Moreover, altho’ some Morality may be learnt by the Judicious either from tragick or comick Writers, yet there are none of the dramatick Poets but what have too much Immorality and Prophaness in their Writings; and hence it follows that either _Tragedy_ or _Comedy_, as being a Representation of Things, must be of a more pernicious Consequence than an _Epick_ Poem, which is only a Recitation. A dramatick _Poet_ must make the Person which he brings on the Stage to speak exactly to the Character which he or she represents: Thus whether the Person that represents another, is to act the Part of a Tyrant, Adulterer, Villain, Drunkard, or any other wicked profligate Wretch, as the Humour of such Persons must be represented always the same, without any Variety, the Representation of such notorious Crimes may be of an ill Consequence to green Heads; and especially in being Spectators of such Plays, which treat of those Subjects whose Stories are taken from, or belonging to Hell. Farthermore there is as much Buffoonry and Drollery acted on the _Irish_ Stage as on the _English_ Stage, as having _Harlequins_ shewing _Merry-Andrew_’s Tricks; _Scaramouches_ jumping into Barrels; Dame _Ragonda_ skipping about with 9 Brats at her Heels; or a brainless Fellow, who has more Grimace than Sense, riding upon an Ass, which (I’m sure) is false Heraldry to put Metal upon Metal.

But being as soon tir’d of _Dublin_, as a _Drury-Lane_ Strumpet is of Beetle and Punny in _Bridewell_, I left that lewd Town to visit the Country; accordingly I went to _Manooth_, a Town in the County of _Kildare_, where I saw nothing memorable, but an old Castle much ruinated by the famous Usurper _Oliver Cromwell_, of inglorious Memory. Hence I went to _Kilcock_, a Mile beyond which is a Stone-Mill, said to be built by the Devil; and truly by its strange Contrivance, I’m apt to believe it may be the Workmanship of some infernal Artist. Four Miles forward is _Clenard_, on the Skirts of which Town is a Bridge over the River _Boyn_; memorable for the entire Defeat King _William_ gave his Royal Competitor for the Diadem of three Kingdoms. Hence I went to _Mullingar_; and from thence to _Balimore_, otherwise call’d _Balimore-Lough-Sunderland_, or _Sivedelie_, in the County of _West-Meath_; but how improper the Derivation is in one Respect, as well as incredulous in another, I leave to your judicious Sense to determine; for _Bali_ signifies a Town in the _Bogtrotters Jargon_, and _More_, great; which _Epithet_ is not at all suitable to this Place, when there are scarce 40 Houses in it. But then again to name it _Sunderland_, or _Sivedelie_, which signifies a Beetle to beat wet Linnen, the Accident I am going to recite, methinks could not impose upon the Faith of any but a _Papist_, who makes Traditions an essential Part of his _Credo_; for as I was inform’d by some dwelling here, there goes a Story of a Maid, living in former Ages, when a Grove grew where this Lough now is, on the North Side of the Town, with a small Brook running thro’ it; and one Day washing in this solitary Place, and accidentally dropping her Beetle into the Water, the Trees in the Grove instantly vanished, and the Ground became a large Lough: Thus by giving too much Credulity to a Lie, this Town begot a Name as long as a _Spanish_ Nobleman’s. In the Church-Yard here I took Notice of a Grave-stone, on which was this insignificant Inscription: _Pray for the Soul of Major ~John Duneel~, who departed the 6th of ~November~, 1694; as also for his Wife ~Elizabeth Jones~; and his Sons ~Henry~, ~William~ and ~Richard~, who caused this Tomb to be made, ~Anno Domini~ 1696._ And under it carv’d _J. H. S._ the Initial Letters of, _Iesus Hominum Salvator_. Not far from this is another Grave stone over a Miller, with all the chief Tools of his thieving Occupation carv’d thereon: And this Mode I saw was pretty customary among Tradesmen in many Church-Yards in this Kingdom.

Next I went to _Athlone_, a Town not only situated in the two Provinces of _Leinster_ and _Connought_, but also in the two Counties of _West-Meath_ and _Roscommon_. The _Shannon_, the largest River in _Ireland_, running from North to South, divides it into two Parts; over which is a Stone Bridge, containing seven Arches, built by old Queen _Bess_; and on it is cut out a Man and Dog with this Inscription. _~Robarts Damport~ Was Overseer of this Workys._ Indeed, the Matter is not so material as to be worthy of communicating it to the Publick, but only to let my Readers see their antient way of Spelling, which is not much different from the modern _Orthography_ now in use among ’em; and to delineate the Arrogancy of this petty Officer, who, because _Alexander_ the Great respected his Horse _Bucephalus_, attempted to immortalize his _Irish_ Cur too. Hence I went to _Balidagon_, a little Village six Miles from _Athlone_; but whence this Place takes its Name I cant imagine, unless a Remnant of the cursed _Philistines_ made their Escape from the Slaughtering _Israelites_, by Swimming over the Sea; and settling in this bye Country, they dedicated these Receptacles of Poverty to their Monstrous God, _Dagon_. Proceeding onwards on my Pilgrimage, I went to _Balinasloe_; the People of which small Town are so Zealous, that rather than want a House of Devotion, they assemble in a little Cabbin, where a Bank is raised for the Bog-trotting Congregation to sit on; and such an awkward Pulpit, Desk, and Communion-Table is bestow’d on the poor _Levite_, that it would puzzle Ingenuity to fathom the Depth of humane Fancy for their true Description: However, taking some Pity and Compassion on these godly Wretches, before I left ’em I compil’d for them the following Stanza’s, call’d

The _Irish_ LITANY.

_From a Country full of Rebellion and Treason;
From a People not Honest, and void of all Reason;
From running of Goods, which is ne’er out of Season;
~Libera nos, Domine.~_

_From dry’d up Potatoes, without any Butter;
From unwholesome Water, which gives the wild Squtter;
From Priests, who in ~Latin~ to Blockheads do mutter;
~Libera nos, Domine.~_

_From Women whose Features wou’d frighten the Devil;
From Children whose Skin’s like an Orange of ~Sevil~;
And are bred from the Womb to all manner of Evil;
~Libera nos, Domine.~_

_From thick Bonny-clabber, a Med’cine for Witches;
From ~Usquebaugh~, loved by all drunken Bitches;
From Vermin, which makes ’em scratch where it Itches;
~Libera nos, Domine.~_

_From getting of Children, but nothing to keep ’em;
From Corn-Fields, where idle Lubbers won’t reap ’em;
From Fleas, where People by Bushels may weep ’em;
~Libera nos, Domine.~_

_From wretchedly living in our poor Condition;
From Beggars, whose Pride for great Places petition;
Or else from the Dunghil wou’d bear a Commission.
~Libera nos, Domine.~_

_From Mayors, full as foolish as guzling Churchwardens,
From ~Dublin~, full of Whores as the ~Spring-Gardens~;
From a ~Papist~, whose Heart against ~Protestants~ hardens;
~Libera nos, Domine.~_

_From running o’er Bogs, in all sorts of Weather,
From wearing flat Brogues, made of nasty hard Leather,
From wearing slight Trowsers, which scarce hang together;
~Libera nos, Domine.~_

_From going bare-foot, both Summer and Winter;
From wearing a Smock till it’s whiter than Tinder;
From ~Poets~, whose Parts will never reach ~Pindar~;
~Libera nos, Domine.~_

_From Knights of the Post against Innocents swearing,
From Doxies, whose Mouths for raw Flesh are staring;
And from their Presumption of Mens Breeches wearing;
~Libera nos, Domine.~_

_From Lice, Itch, and Scabs, the Plague of our Nation;
From Pimps, who claim rich Men for a Relation;
And from our blind Way of gaining Salvation;
~Libera nos, Domine.~_

_From Cook-Maids as nasty as any Gold finder;
From Pastors as blind as a Beetle and blinder;
From Strumpets, whom Money make never the kinder,
~Libera nos, Domine.~_

_From trading with ~France~, to get ourselves Riches;
From often cooling our Courage in Ditches;
T’asswage the rebellious Flesh in the Breeches;
~Libera nos, Domine.~_

_From Blind leading blind Folks, and Criples the Criple;
From going to Church without any Steeple;
From Ropes without Bells, to ring in the People;
~Libera nos, Domine.~_

_From Rapparees medling with Travellers Purses;
From Servants as base as damn’d Parish Nurses;
From Teaguelanders full of Damnation and Curses.
~Libera nos, Domine.~_

Bidding adieu to _Balinosloe_, I went to _Aghrim_, where the Number of Houses exceed not a Pair-Royal of Aces; however, the Place will be ever memorable in History, for the decisive Battle fought here, which reduced a whole Kingdom to the Obedience of the _Protestant_ King _William_. And all over the Plain here lie scatter’d Heaps of Mens Sculls to this Day; insomuch that it does not only represent _Golgotha_, but had also the Father of that _Grecian_ Hero dwelt here, who wept for more Worlds to add to his Conquests, he might have sav’d his Page the Labour of shewing him at Meals the ghastful Emblem of Mortality. Hence I proceeded to _Loghrea_, where is kept the chiefest Market in all the Province of _Connaught_; and from thence going to _Killilel_, I saw a small wooden Cross set tottering upon a Heap of Stones in the Road; about which some Priest, and his bigotted Tribe, had been mumbling a _Pater Noster_, and _Ave Maria_ to the Blessed Lady. At _Balihavely_ I took Notice of an old Castle metamorphosed into a Cow-House; and next I went to _Athenrea_, an ancient, but much ruinated Town, built by old King _John_ of merry Memory. Then I came to _Galway_, a large Seaport Town, situated on the River _Caarle_; when I first enter’d this Place, I really took it to be a general Goal for the whole Kingdom; for the Houses (which are some one, some two, and some three Stories high) are all strongly built of Stone, and most of the Windows thick barricadoed with thick Iron Bars, insomuch that there are not the like Buildings to be seen through the Country for Strength. In the Midst of this Town stands a Church, dedicated to honest St. _Nicholas_, whose Steeple hath a pretty good Set of Bells, and its Chimes are somewhat Musical, but not well approv’d by the _Fanaticks_, because they are set to the Tune of a _Psalm_. Moreover, in this Church are two Pulpits, one for the Doctor to preach in, and one for the Archbishop of _Tuam_, in case his Preferment makes him not above it.

The Women of this Country are generally so homely, that had the Mother of all Living been as ugly, when she took her ill-condition’d Being from one of Father _Adam_’s Ribs, her frightful Phisiognomy had forc’d the Godhead to act the sixth Day over again. Seeing the female Sex so ordinary, to comfort them under this Misfortune, I composed the following Lines, call’d the Picture of an _Irish_ Woman.

_Of all the Creatures I have ever found,
An ~Irish~ Woman is a strange Compound!
Unseemly Gestures wanton Sports betray,
Yet talk of Love, she knows not what to say.
Her chiefest Breeding lies in milking Cows,
Her Face is only fit to fright the Crows;
Her Breasts are large, her Belly somewhat hard,
And Modesty’s a Thing she’ll ne’er regard:
But yet to give the ~Teagueland~ Beast her Due,
Her Skin is really a ~Mulatto~’s Hue;
Ugly’s her Hand, yet Legs so little be,
That litler Mill-Posts you shall seldom see.
Her roving Eyes lascivious Looks betray,
And as the Night obscures a glorious Day,
So Ragged Mantles, or a Cloak do’s hide
Those Imperfections which we should deride.
Splavin’s her Foot, irregular her Nose,
Which always is uncleanly as her Cloaths;
Her Buttocks swell, like lustful Bull his Cod,
And Knees are never bended to her God:
For, when at Leisure, her Devotion’s most
Bestow’d on Priest, and consecrated Host.
Her Speech discovers a perfidious Heart,
The which on very easie Terms she’ll part;
And as for that strange Cup which Water keeps
With downward Mouth, awake, or when she sleeps,
Let her be honest Woman, Maid, or Whore,
Like Death and Hell ’tis gaping still for more._

But yet for all this Dearth of handsome Women, this Country in another Respect is far happier than _England_, as being less infected with _Lawyers_, that common Bane of all Mankind. The wild _Irish_, in all Courts of Judicature, are sworn upon a Scull; herein being more scrupulous of forswearing themselves, than by taking a false Oath on the _New-Testament_; as supposing the Ghost to whom that Scull once pertain’d would haunt them, in case they prov’d perjur’d. Assizes are held twice a Year for criminal Matters, and Cases of _Nisi prius_; and tho’ _Astræa_ left no Print of her Footsteps in this Nation when she fled to Heaven, yet so partial is blindfold Justice here betwixt Man and Beast, that the Stone Pounds for offending Cattle seem stronger built than Goals for Malefactors. Murderers are hang’d and quarter’d; and _Rapparees_ share the same Fate: Which last in former Times was the _Militia_ of the Country, but the mean Souls of the _Irish_ detesting now what is honourable and Praiseworthy, to follow Theft, this martial Denomination suffers the same hard Fate with those honest Names of _Tyrant_ and _Sophister_, which from Titles of Honour are degenerated into Terms of the greatest Disgrace and Infamy; for a _Rapparee_ now signifies no more than a Robber on the Highway. As for the great Commerce the People drives, that was plainly perceiv’d by meeting neither Waggon nor Pack-Horse 100 Miles an End. The wild Native _Irish_ observe more Days of Fasting and Abstinence than the Rubrick of their Church enjoyns them; because extream Poverty excludes them from the Use of Flesh and Fowl from one Year’s End to another. Their Lodging is in small Cabbins, without Chimneys, put up in the Highways; and in these the Man, his Wife and Children, Cocks, Hens, Chickens, Hogs, Pigs, Cows, Calves and Geese lie all together. If _Teague_ is so topping as to rent a small Potatoe-Garden for 5 Shillings _per Annum_, he thinks himself as well to pass as that _Italian_ Duke, who’s married Yearly to the _Adriatic_ Sea; however, his Tenement shall be no better furnish’d than the rest of his Neighbours; which is commonly set off with a Truss of Straw to lie on, a Grid-Iron, and Pot to boil _Potatoes_. These wild People wear neither Shoes nor Stockings, which makes me strongly to suspect that they are born without any, as Monsieur _Ragou_’s Bastard was without a Shirt; and as often as I behold their tatter’d Apparel, which scarce covers what Modesty ought to conceal, I imagine them to proceed from the Loyns of _Ham_, who discovering his Father’s Nakedness, the Curse of him and his Posterity lay in never being well cloath’d again.

Here are no Stage-Coaches; and instead of Carts they use only little Cars, with small Wheels without Spokes, so that they cannot carry above 3 or 400 Weight of Tallow, which is one of the chiefest Commodities of this Country. Sliding Carts are also very common, imitating much our Halliers in _Bristol_. Instead of Soap they use _Cackmacrel_, that is, the Excrements of Dogs whether thick or thin, which poor Women gather up in the Streets with as great Pains as they do Rags in _London_. In _England_ Women ride upon the left Side of a Horse, but here they ride upon the wrong Side; and very often astride. Most Things edible or potable are very cheap; but why is that? Because Money is scarce, which makes an _English_ Shillings go for 13 Pence, and a Guinea 1 Pound 3 Shillings, which is considerable above their intrinsick Value. The Inhabitants of this Kingdom greatly admire a Dish of Potatoes, to which they have such an Appetite, that I believe they long for ’em after they are dead; for in most Potatoe-Gardens many Souls, grinning strangely at this delicious Food, which is both Bread and Meat to an _Irishman_; but whether they get thither by Accident, or some sympathetical Vertue, whose strange Effect proceeding from as strange a Cause, the Relicks of their mortal Carcasses will insensibly creep (like the Sun’s Shadow on a Dial) to what they most affected in this Lite, is a Subject on which I shall not insist. For above 40 Miles together I could not see a Stack of Hay; and Beasts are very small here, excepting the Woman, who being great Breeders, stand hard and fast by that primary Command, _Increase and multiply_; but I suppose their Obedience to this Precept is more by natural Instinct, than acquir’d by any Knowledge of the Scriptures, to which they are as meer Strangers as the remotest Heathens. So boggy is most part of the Country, that if it is not _Lucifer_’s Backside, one may very reasonably impute it to be the grand Magazine of Nature’s Impurity. Popery is very predominant; for altho’ severe Acts are made against Jesuits, Monks, and Fryers, yet secular Priests, who own no Ecclesiastical Jurisdiction of the See of _Rome_, are tolerated to say Mass. Besides, several private Nunneries, the _Papists_ have public Chapels here; one about a Furlong or two without the West-Gate of _Galway_, dedicated to the Virgin _Mary_; and another a little without Abby-Gate, dedicated to St. _Francis_. Superstition has a great Ascendant over their Faith; for about half a Mile without _William_’s Gate are two Wells, dedicated to the blessed Lady and St. _Tavison_, round which every _Sunday_ Morning they walk bare-foot an Hour together, mumbling over their Beads, and then crossing themselves with the Water, which they hold to be good against several Infirmities, they return home as little sanctified as they went. The Pulpit-Prayers us’d by the _Protestant_ Clergy in _Ireland_, are scarce as long as the Lord’s Prayer and Doxology; for they are all as idle as our _English_ Parsons, who don’t preach, but read Sermons, excepting here and there one that scorns to teach his Congregation out of a Book.

From _Galway_ I went to _Carmorris_, on the left Hand whereof are several Houses paying Tribute to the Ruins of Fire and Sword. Next I went to _Balihove_, in the County of _Mayo_; and truly of all the _Irish_ Counties commend me to this for good Fellowship; for here they will kill one another to raise a Rundlet of _Aqua-vitæ_. As passing through this Country, I overtook a little Car loaded with this Liquor, which they prefer above their beloved _Usquebaugh_, drawing before a Corpse; and as soon as the senseless Clod was interr’d in an obscure Place among Bogs and Hills, they fell heartily to their strong Sippings, which they drew out into square wooden Cups, and thence took it out agen with Egg-shels, which serv’d instead of Tasters. For my part being a Stranger, they invited me to participate of their Liquor; accordingly I tarried with them, to see their Manners; ’till the Spirits flew so much into their Heads, that one Brother in a Quarrel kill’d another. Hereupon some were for carrying him to Justice, and others again for hiding the bloody Fact; thus whilst a long Controversie held concerning what to do in this tragical Matter, an old Man among ’em starts up, and addresses himself as follows.

“Loving Friends and Acquaintance, in taking our last Farewel of
a Neighbour here departed, the Funeral Meeting has unhappily
occasion’d the Loss of another. Now if we should deliver up
this Criminal to the Government, the Severity of their Justice
will deprive us of a third Friend; which Punishment will not
retrieve the Life of his unfortunate Brother. Wherefore, to
prevent the Survivor’s untimely End, we’ll presently send to
see what Goods and Chattles the Deceased owns; and raising
therewith another Rundlet of _Aqua-vitæ_, we’ll privately bury
our lately departed Brother, and drink his _Requiem_, without
taking any farther Notice of this Disaster to our heretical
Foes”.

These were his Words as near as I can remember, and his Advice being applauded by all the Auditors, another Rundlet of _Aqua Vitæ_ is fetc’d; but by that time it was near out, a fresh Quarrel arose, wherein a second Person was murder’d; which being likewise smother’d and a fresh Rundlet of _Aqua Vitæ_ procur’d, I took my leave of these kind Heats, for fear they should at last raise a drunken Collation out of me. So I made the best of my way for _Foxford_, a very large Town, with a Church in it, lying among very high Hills. Hence I went to _Lorras_, an excellent Harbour for Ships, situated in a Bay, twining among exceeding high Mountains. Thence I went to _Sligo_, which hath a strong Citadel, by a Bridge containing Eight Stone Arches. Hence I went to _Grange_; from thence to _Balishannon_, a Seaport Town; hence I went to _Donnegal_, a Town situated on a Hill, and was burnt by the Duke of _Berwick_, in the late _Irish_ Wars. Hence I went over _Barnsmoor_, a Mount Ten Miles in Length, in the Province of _Ulster_; but about a Mile before I came to the End of it, _Colcrockeda_ [or the Hangman’s] Wood begins; where a great many _Tories_ or _Rapparees_ have been hang’d, when they made their solitary Receptacles in this desolate and dangerous Place for robbing. Hence I went to _Rapho_, a Bishoprick, with a very little Church in it. And next I went to _London-Derry_, the People whereof have such good Stomachs as to eat Cats, Rats, Dogs and Horse-flesh in time of a Siege. The most remarkable Thing I saw hereabout was the Gallows, which stands about half a Mile out of Town, and is of a Triangular Form, like our Triple-Tree at _Hyde-Park_ Corner; but as yet has not honour’d the _Roman_ See with so many Saints and Martyrs as that in _England_.

From _London-Derry_ I went to _Colrain_, a Seaport Town divided by the _Byrne_ Water into Two Parts, so that it stands in the Counties of _Derry_ and _Antrim_, which last Shire is much haunted with Fairies, who are so mischievous as to fling Darts at People as they Travel in the Night. I saw one of ’em, which is a flat solid Stone, about Two Inches long, and in Shape like a Vamp or upper Leather of a Woman’s pecked Toe Shoe; one side white, t’other inclining to the same Colour, but speckled with red Spots; and is reckon’d very medicinal, if us’d according to Prescription, for the sore Teats of Cows. The _Irish_ People, I perceiv’d all the Way I Travell’d, are haughty of Heart, implacable in Enmity; light of Belief, and patient _per_ Force in Hunger and Cold. _Damage-fesant_ is seldom committed, because here are few or no Hedges; nor can Forrest Laws be in much Use, when I saw not one from one End of the Kingdom to the other. Brogues are more worn than Shoes by both Sexes; their Mouths supply the Use of Bellows; a Pail of Water serves ’em for a Looking-Glass; and Cleanliness is as much unknown to them, as the Discoveries of _Christopher Columbus_ to the Antients. The richer Sort of Women wear blue Cloth Cloaks, in all Weathers, as a Type or Symbol of their Desire of wearing the Breeches too; but their Husbands to mar their Intentions, generally wear Trowsers made of Frize, which is the staple Commodity of the Country. The midling Rank of Women wear Riding-Hoods; and the Poor ones clad themselves with course Mantles, thrown over their Kerchiefs, which are as black as their Bodies, and their Bodies as black as their Souls, but yet their Souls are blacker than either; if it was but for their Malice, contrary to the _11th_ Commandment, commanding, _That ye love one another_.

Tho’ the Women differ in their Habits, yet both Gentle and Simple count Decency in Dressing meer Idolatry; and that their Stockings may hang flatteringly about their Heels, they have utterly forsworn the Use of Garters. Those who are married are generally dull and sottish, so that when their Husbands come home, they look like so many Passion-Pictures, presenting ever Sadness and Melancholly; which makes the poor Cuckolds like _Spaniards_, who will leave their Saviour at any Time for a Maidenhead, look as dull. Yea, an _Irishman_ loves a Whore as well as a _Frenchman_; and tho’ the Superstition of former Times accounted a Woman of such Pollution, that the Council of _Eliberis_ would not suffer a Man to touch her three Days before his receiving the Sacrament, yet in Defiance of all Councils, they will forsake Sacraments, and all things else holy, rather than go without a Bit of old Hat: And this Practice of abstaining from Women at certain Times, was (I suppose) in Use among the antient Heathens, according to this Caution of _Tibullus_.

⸺ ⸺ _discedat ab aris,
Cui tulit hesterna gaudiis nocte Venus._ L. 2. Eleg. 1.

⸺ _From the Altars let him keep,
That in his Lady’s Arms last Night did sleep._

By this Question in the last Chapter of _Proverbs_, as I take it, _Who can find a virtuous Woman?_ One would be apt to surmise that _Solomon_ had travell’d into this Country; and to see the People eat Clover Grass, a Man might swear ’em all a-kin to grazing _Nebuchadnezzar_. The Genius of the _Irish_ is not a-whit admirable, for one Age here grows not wiser than another, like other Nations; which gives great Suspicion of a _Metempsischosis_, or _Pythagoras_’s Transmigration of the Soul to be true: Seeing, by the Conversation I had among the Bogtrotters, that the younger Folks only inherit the small Sense of their Progenitors; whose profound Knowledge was heretofore so great, as to tye Ploughs to their Horses Tails. Their Bogs are many, whence they have all their Fuel, for they burn nothing but Turf; Spiders are very plentiful, but not venomous; and the common Texture spun out of their Intrails, makes a Sort of Hangings, which the _Irish_ for Cheapness prefer much before good Tapestry. In some Parts they make their Bread with the Bark of Holly, from which tearing off the green Superfluities, they work it up round like a Football, and bake it in the Embers. Their Butter being mixt with Salt and Garlick, and put into the Skin which follows the Calf from the Cow, they bury in a Turf-Pit for 8 or 9 Months together, which does not only make it of a strong Taste, but likewise dies it with all the Colours in the Rainbow: And Briskins, or the Roots of wild Tansie, they love as well. Tho’ the Streets in every Town are very dirty, yet their Scavengers Carts are no bigger than Wheelbarrows; and the Use of Clogs or Pattins is an Abomination with most Women. The most epidemical Distemper among Strangers is the bloody Flux; for which, Eggs fry’d in Brandy is a good _Catholicon_. Few or no Patients happen among the lying-in Women; for (like the _Hebrews_, as their pious Midwives pretended) they are brought to Bed without any Help; wash and do all without Nurses; and in less than half a Week do not only go abroad, but also give Earnest for being with Child again. Their newborn Infants are as hardy, and will endure Cold as well as any _Laplander_; or the strongest Bear subject to the Czar of _Muscovy_. The _Irish_ Soil mimicks Nature like the vivifying Mud of _Nile_; for I have seen the Hairs which fall from Horses Tails into Puddles of Water on the Road, transubstantiated (if I may be so bold as to use that Word, without any Offence to his Unholiness the Pope) into Worms; wherefore it is no Wonder that Priests, by the Art of _Legerdemain_, can convert good Bread and Wine into real Flesh and Blood.

_Jack-Daws_ here are not black, but white and grey, like _Royston_ Crows; and _Sea-Gulls_ are all white, except their Wings, which are tipt at the End with a dark yellow; but the largest Birds in this Kingdom are _Whores-Birds_ and _Jay!-Birds_. Here is a sort of Vermin breeding near Bogs call’d _Man-creepers_; in Shape and Bigness like a _Lizard_, having 4 Legs, the two foremost of which bear the Resemblance of a Human Hand. This Creature’s Property is to creep into a Man’s Belly, if he finds him sleeping with his Mouth open, where he extreamly tortures him, ’till fetch’d out of his internal Habitation; which Operation is thus perform’d. The Patient being kept fasting, his Chyrurgeon baits a Hook with a Piece of Meat, and puts it down his Throat, at which the hungry Insect snapping, he pulls him out with a sudden Jerk, and kills it. Milk will not keep (do what they can) from turning sour in six Hours at any time of the Year; but why this Region can’t preserve this Sweetness longer, is somewhat paradoxical to me; unless the invisible _Effluvia_’s, which secretly dissipate themselves from the unwholsome Fogs, arising out of the Bogs, by the attractive Power of the Sun’s Beams, assume the Prerogative of forcing the Putrefaction, so common to the liquid Product of the Cow’s Teat. An _Ignis fatuus_ the silly People deem to be a Soul broke out of _Purgatory_; and on the Vigil of St. _John_ the _Baptist_’s Nativity they make Bonfires, and run along the Streets and Fields with Wisps of Straw blazing on long Poles to purify the Air, which they think infectious, by believing all the Devils, Spirits, Ghosts, and Hobgoblins fly abroad this Night to hurt Mankind. Farthermore, it is their dull _Theology_ to affirm, the Souls of all People leave their Bodies on the Eve of this Feast, and take a Ramble to that very Place where, by Land or Sea, a final Seperation shall divorce them for evermore in this World. As soon as Death brings his last Summons to any one, the wild _Irish_ (both Men, Women and Children) go before the Corpse, and from his or her House to the Church-yard set up a most hideous Holoo loo loo, which may be heard two or three Miles round the Country. Now when a Virgin (if here’s any such Thing after she’s in the Teens) dies, a Garland, made of all sorts of Flowers and sweet Herbs, is carried by a young Woman on her Head, before the Coffin, from which hang down two black Ribbons, signifying our mortal State; and two white, as an Emblem of Purity and Innocence; the Ends thereof are held by 4 young Maids, which are not so plenty here as _Thornbacks_, before whom a Basket full of Herbs and Flowers is supported by 2 other Maids, who strew them along the Streets to the Place of Burial: Then after the Deceased follow all her Relations, and Acquaintance. But the Priest being asham’d to walk without his _Pontificalibus_, he’s as invisible, ’till you come to the Grave, as if he had the Ring of _Gyges_ on his Finger.

Peas, Beans, and Artichoaks are very scarce; but what is worse, their Beef will not take Salt, without all the Fat melting away. The Inhabitants in general thinking Adultery and Fornication more laudable, than drawing the Picture of Posterity in the lawful State of Matrimony, the _Morbus gallicus_ is as fashionable all over the Country, as in any Court in _Europe_; nevertheless, it is no Miracle to see them look fair to the last, since they drink nothing but what Nature’s Liberality is pleas’d to bestow on ’em at Springs. Children that are troubled with Kibes are always in a sad Condition, because their poor Parents being great Strangers to any sort of salted Meat, they have no Brine to Cure them. When they use Phlebotomy they frequently bleed ill Blood, because it always runs in their Veins; and an _Apoplexy_ seldom kills them, because they are not much pamper’d with high Feeding. A _Dropsie_ does not much hurt an _Irishman_, by reason he naturally swells with his Rhodomontado’s, and bragging Lies: But a deep _Consumption_ always affects most their Pockets. Tho’ all their Actions are evil, yet are they not much afflicted with the _King’s-Evil_; nor are they much troubled with the _Gout_, because their Poverty does not qualifie them for it. I can’t tell what an _Imposthume_ may do, but a Lie will never choak them; nor do they seem to have the _Palsie_, but when a bad Conscience makes ’em quake and tremble like an Aspin Leaf: But indeed the People are all most grievously infected with the _Scurvy_ and _Spleen_ too. As for their Houses, the Rooms up one pair of Stairs, or higher, are cover’d with Earth 4 or 5 Inches thick; and the Tenent of the Joyces are not put into Mortises, but laid cross-wise into Notches over the Summet. An _Irishman_ and Fool are Correlatives; or at least synonimous Terms: And catch him without a Blunder, which makes him love Bulls, ’tis to be fear’d the World is near its Dissolution. They speak largely of their Antiquity, boasting as if they were a People before the Creation; but, in my Opinion, _Ireland_ could not well be _in esse_ so early, because e’er a powerful _Fiat_ produc’d all Things out of nothing, all Things lay in their original _Chaos_, so I can’t imagine of what the _Irish_ could exist, unless they derive their Descent from those _Atoms_, which by a casual Concourse (as the _Epicureans_ hold) jumping together, gave Being to the World. Neither could it be a Country at the first Dawn of Light, by reason when Omnipotency had finisht his stupendious Works, he said, _they were good_; and the sacred Approbation was glorified by _all the Sons of the Morning, who shouted together for Joy_. Truly, I should rather impute the Original of this Country to some Judgment, which stirring up the Ocean, to overwhelm some remoter Part of the Globe, whose aggravating Sins too much incensed divine Justice, it left its antient Current, to make room for a Place as wicked: for you may read in divers Authors of a Resurrection of Isles, peeping up in many Parts, where none were ever seen before.

Their Language they do not only reckon older, but also more copious than the _Hebrew_; however, the Copiousness of their Linguo is easily guess’d at, by not having a Word in their Speech to express Breeches; and many other appellative Words. Like the odious _French_ they put the _Substantive_ before the _Adjective_, and to embellish their Discourse, too often mixt with _Tautology_, they frequently use the Figure _Hysteron & Proteron_, that is, putting the Cart before the Horse. Their _Alphabet_ contains but these 17 Letters, _A_, _B_, _C_, _D_, _E_, _F_, _G_, _I_, _L_, _M_, _N_, _O_, _P_, _R_, _S_, _T_, _U_; but this literal Paucity (like the _Saxon_ Abecedary) is supply’d with some Abbreviations or Contractions. The Pronunciation of their Tongue being somewhat guttural, it is hard for the Vulgar to speak it; harder to speak it significantly; and hardest to write true. In the late King _James_’s Reign an _Irish_ Teaguish Priest mightily extolling this Bogland Jargon, he as mightily interceeded with his papistick Majesty to erect publick Schools in _Oxford_ and _Cambridge_, for professing this Tongue; but an _Irish_ Courtier, who had no great Veneration for this conceited Pedlar in holy Trinkets, requesting the King to command him to translate, _Black Ox eat raw Egg_, the Priest presently perform’d his Talk thus, _Daue dooue ecye ewe ouce_; at which inarticulate Sounds (for if you was to hear them rightly pronounc’d, they sound just like a Dog’s barking) his Majesty bursted out a laughing, and calling to his Dog _Towser_, said, _Here’s my Dog can speak your Language already_; whereupon the spiritual Jugler drew in his Horns, and sneak’d off like a small Cur that had lost his Tail. In their Discourse it is common for them to use two Negatives, which I’m sure make an Affirmative; unless, after the manner of the _Greeks_, they use them to make the Negation stronger. It has been a great Dispute among _Grammarians_, whether an _Irishman_ is a Noun _Substantive_, or a Noun _Adjective_; but it is carried in the latter, by reason he cannot stand by himself in Battle; for before the _Irish_ go abroad, you shall not find greater Cowards under the Copes of Heaven.

Why the Men and Women here should be so unmercifully big in the Legs, above any other People, I impute to their mean Food, making no solid _Chyle_; so what slender Diet they eat, descending into their lower Parts, it there settles in a dropsical sort of a Humour. For all this Climate is reckon’d wholesome, it is rare to see any of the Natives past the climacterical Year; and their Perfidiousness is commonly attended with more Curses, in one respect or another, than are read in the _Commination_ by our Clergy on _Ash Wednesday_. Such as have Pewter take great Delight to have it furbelow’d with Dust; and to wear clean Linnen they reckon as great a Crime as Loyalty. The People (like _Janus_) have not two Faces; but that they are double-hearted is confirm’d by the Votes of all moral Men: For thinking a sly deceiving their best Friends meritorious, is a general Rule they hold without any Exception. Here few Women die Martyrs for Love; but if they crave the Affections of a Man, wholly averse to their Inclination, their Endeavour to raise Enjoyment of him is by Art; and to this end they often use Philtres. Likewise, the Spark that’s resolv’d to sacrifice his Youth and Vigour on a Damsel, whose Coyness will not accept of his Love-Oblations; he threads a Needle with the Hair of her Head, and then running it thro’ the most fleshy Part of a dead Man, as the Brawn of the Arms, Thigh, or Calf of the Leg, the Charm has that Virtue in it, as to make her run mad for him whom she so lately slighted. Providence is very admirable in all its Dispensations, of strangely bringing surprising Accidents to pass; but more especially in _Ireland_, is her Gubernation of Chances wonderful, in preserving a People from starving, whose short Commons, in most Places, make a lively Representation of Famine. Their Skill in painting comes not near the rude Draughts of the boorish _Dutch_; whose Fancy is more grotesque than natural: And their Churches discover neither any Workmanship after the old _Gothick_ Fashion; nor shew the _Dorick_, _Corinthian_, or other Orders of modern Architecture. Also the Spaciousness of them may be soon guess’d at by their Cathedrals, the largest of which scarce exceeds _Oliver_’s Tabernacle, or _Calamy_’s _Presbyterian_ Meeting-House in _Long Ditch_ at _Westminster_.